#i refuse to call that a neo

[splatoonusna]

Me when NA translations are still going to make the in game name for the Splatana be Neo Splatana Stamper:

[serfuzzypushover]

hm.

[technovillain]

I think it's cute how so many art movements are simply called "new art" to differentiate "not like the old stuff". Contemporary dance. New wave fashion. Pop (literally popular) music. Art Nouveau. Modernism. Postmodernism. Even terms starting with neo- (neo-classicism, neo-expressionism) all are just saying NEW ART. And yet all of these things are now distinctive styles of the past. It's kind of beautiful how humanity never stops outgrowing itself. Art is a state of matter that refuses to sit still, old as soon as it is new, original upon its thousandth performance, new forever so long as there is someone who has not yet seen it, and old the second the artist picks up their instrument again.

[liberalsarecool]

I owe my Trump-supporting friends an apology. I’ve been critical of the Trump presidency and am still exhausted from the experience.

But to be fair, President Trump wasn’t that bad, other than:

• when he incited an insurrection against the government,

• mismanaged a pandemic that killed over a million Americans

• separated children from their families

• lost those children in the bureaucracy

• tear-gassed peaceful protesters on Lafayette Square so he could hold a photo op holding a Bible in front of a church

• tried to block all Muslims from entering the country

• got impeached

• got impeached again

• had the worst jobs record of any president in modern history

• pressured Ukraine to dig dirt on Joe Biden

• fired the FBI director for investigating his ties to Russia

• bragged about firing the FBI director on TV

• took Vladimir Putin’s word over the US intelligence community

• diverted military funding to build his wall

• caused the longest government shutdown in US history

• called Black Lives Matter a “symbol of hate”

• lied nearly 40,000 times

• banned transgender people from serving in the military

• ejected reporters from the White House briefing room who asked tough questions

• vetoed the defense funding bill because it renamed military bases named for Confederate soldiers

• refused to release his tax returns

• increased the national debt by nearly $8 trillion

• had three of the highest annual trade deficits in U.S. history

• called veterans and soldiers who died in combat losers and suckers

• coddled the leader of Saudi Arabia after he ordered the execution and dismembering of a US-based journalist

• refused to concede the 2020 election

• hired his unqualified daughter and son-in-law to work in the White House

• walked out of an interview with Lesley Stahl

• called neo-Nazis “very fine people”

• suggested that people should inject bleach into their bodies to fight COVID

• abandoned our allies the Kurds to Turkey

• pushed through massive tax cuts for the wealthiest but balked at helping working Americans

• incited anti-lockdown protestors in several states at the height of the pandemic

• withdrew the US from the Paris climate accords

• withdrew the US from the Iranian nuclear deal

• withdrew the US from the Trans Pacific Partnership which was designed to block China’s advances

• insulted his own Cabinet members on Twitter

• pushed the leader of Montenegro out of the way during a photo op

• failed to reiterate US commitment to defending NATO allies

• called Haiti and African nations “shithole” countries

• called the city of Baltimore the “worst in the nation”

• claimed that he single-handedly brought back the phrase “Merry Christmas” even though it hadn’t gone anywhere

• forced his Cabinet members to praise him publicly like some cult leader

• believed he should be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize

• berated and belittled his hand-picked Attorney General when he recused himself from the Russia probe

• suggested the US should buy Greenland

• colluded with Mitch McConnell to push through federal judges and two Supreme Court justices after supporting efforts to prevent his predecessor from appointing judges

• repeatedly called the media “enemies of the people”

• claimed that if we tested fewer people for COVID we’d have fewer cases

• violated the emoluments clause

• thought that Nambia was a country

• told Bob Woodward in private that the coronavirus was a big deal but then downplayed it in public

• called his exceedingly faithful vice president a “p---y” for following the Constitution

• nearly got us into a war with Iran after threatening them by tweet

• nominated a corrupt head of the EPA

• nominated a corrupt head of HHS

• nominated a corrupt head of the Interior Department

• nominated a corrupt head of the USDA

• praised dictators and authoritarians around the world while criticizing allies

• refused to allow the presidential transition to begin

• insulted war hero John McCain – even after his death

• spent an obscene amount of time playing golf after criticizing Barack Obama for playing (far less) golf while president

• falsely claimed that he won the 2016 popular vote

• called the Muslim mayor of London a “stone cold loser”

• falsely claimed that he turned down being Time’s Man of the Year

• considered firing special counsel Robert Mueller on several occasions

• mocked wearing face masks to guard against transmitting COVID

• locked Congress out of its constitutional duty to confirm Cabinet officials by hiring acting ones

• used a racist dog whistle by calling COVID the “China virus”

• hired and associated with numerous shady figures that were eventually convicted of federal offenses including his campaign manager and national security adviser

• pardoned several of his shady associates

• gave the Presidential Medal of Freedom to two congressman who amplified his batshit crazy conspiracy theories

• got into telephone fight with the leader of Australia(!)

• had a Secretary of State who called him a moron

• forced his press secretary to claim without merit that his was the largest inauguration crowd in history

• botched the COVID vaccine rollout

• tweeted so much dangerous propaganda that Twitter eventually banned him

• charged the Secret Service jacked-up rates at his properties

• constantly interrupted Joe Biden in their first presidential debate

• claimed that COVID would “magically” disappear

• called a U.S. Senator “Pocahontas”

• used his Twitter account to blast Nordstrom when it stopped selling Ivanka’s merchandise

• opened up millions of pristine federal lands to development and drilling

• got into a losing tariff war with China that forced US taxpayers to bail out farmers

• claimed that his losing tariff war was a win for the US

• ignored or didn’t even take part in daily intelligence briefings

• blew off honoring American war dead in France because it was raining

• redesigned Air Force One to look like the Trump Shuttle

• got played by Kim Jung Un and his “love letters”

• threatened to go after social media companies in clear violation of the Constitution

• botched the response to Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico

• threw paper towels at Puerto Ricans when he finally visited them

• pressured the governor and secretary of state of Georgia to “find” him votes

• thought that the Virgin islands had a President

• drew on a map with a Sharpie to justify his inaccurate tweet that Alabama was threatened by a hurricane

• allowed White House staff to use personal email accounts for official businesses after blasting Hillary Clinton for doing the same thing

• rolled back regulations that protected the public from mercury and asbestos

• pushed regulators to waste time studying snake-oil remedies for COVID

• rolled back regulations that stopped coal companies from dumping waste into rivers

• held blatant campaign rallies at the White House

• tried to take away millions of Americans’ health insurance because the law was named for a Black man

• refused to attend his successors’ inauguration

• nominated the worst Education Secretary in history

• threatened judges who didn’t do what he wanted

• attacked Dr. Anthony Fauci

• promised that Mexico would pay for the wall (it didn’t)

• allowed political hacks to overrule government scientists on major reports on climate change and other issues

• struggled navigating a ramp after claiming his opponent was feeble

• called an African-American Congresswoman “low IQ”

• threatened to withhold federal aid from states and cities with Democratic leaders

• went ahead with rallies filled with maskless supporters in the middle of a pandemic

• claimed that legitimate investigations of his wrongdoing were “witch hunts,”

• seemed to demonstrate a belief that there were airports during the American Revolution

• demanded “total loyalty” from the FBI director

• praised a conspiracy theory that Democrats are Satanic pedophiles

• completely gutted the Voice of America

• placed a political hack in charge of the Postal Service

• claimed without evidence that the Obama administration bugged Trump Tower

• suggested that the US should allow more people from places like Norway into the country

• suggested that COVID wasn’t that bad because he recovered with the help of top government doctors and treatments not available to the public

• overturned energy conservation standards that even industry supported

• reduced the number of refugees the US accepts

• insulted various members of Congress and the media with infantile nicknames

• gave Rush Limbaugh a Presidential medal of Freedom at the State of the Union address

• named as head of federal personnel a 29-year old who’d previously been fired from the White House for allegations of financial improprieties

• eliminated the White House office of pandemic response

• used soldiers as campaign props

• fired any advisor who made the mistake of disagreeing with him

• demanded the Pentagon throw him a Soviet-style military parade

• hired a shit ton of white nationalists

• politicized the civil service

• did absolutely nothing after Russia hacked the U.S. government

• falsely said the Boy Scouts called him to say his bizarre Jamboree speech was the best speech ever given to the Scouts

• claimed that Black people would overrun the suburbs if Biden won

• insulted reporters of color

• insulted women reporters

• insulted women reporters of color

• suggested he was fine with China’s oppression of the Uighurs

• attacked the Supreme Court when it ruled against him

• summoned Pennsylvania state legislative leaders to the White House to pressure them to overturn the election

• spent countless hours every day watching Fox News

• refused to allow his administration to comply with Congressional subpoenas

• hired Rudy Giuliani as his lawyer

• tried to punish Amazon because the Jeff Bezos-owned Washington Post wrote negative stories about him

• acted as if the Attorney General of the United States was his personal attorney

• attempted to get the federal government to defend him in a libel lawsuit from a women who accused him of sexual assault

• held private meetings with Vladimir Putin without staff present

• didn’t disclose his private meetings with Vladimir Putin so that the US had to find out via Russian media

• stopped holding press briefings for months at a time

• “ordered” US companies to leave China even though he has no such power

• led a political party that couldn’t even be bothered to draft a policy platform

• claimed preposterously that Article II of the Constitution gave him absolute powers

• tried to pressure the U.K. to hold the British Open at his golf course

• suggested that the government nuke hurricanes

• suggested that wind turbines cause cancer

• said that he had a special aptitude for science

• fired the head of election cyber security after he said that the 2020 election was secure

• blurted out classified information to Russian officials

• tried to force the G7 to hold their meeting at his failing golf resort in Florida

• fired the acting attorney general when she refused to go along with his unconstitutional Muslim travel ban

• hired Stephen Miller

• openly discussed national security issues in the dining room at Mar-a-Lago where everyone could hear them

• interfered with plans to relocate the FBI because a new development there might compete with his hotel

• abandoned Iraqi refugees who’d helped the U.S. during the war

• tried to get Russia back into the G7

• held a COVID super spreader event in the Rose Garden

• seemed to believe that Frederick Douglass is still alive

• lost 60 election fraud cases in court including before judges he had nominated

• falsely claimed that factories were reopening when they weren’t

• shamelessly exploited terror attacks in Europe to justify his anti-immigrant policies

• still hasn’t come up with a healthcare plan

• still hasn’t come up with an infrastructure plan despite repeated “Infrastructure Weeks"

• forced Secret Service agents to drive him around Walter Reed while contagious with COVID

• told the Proud Boys to “stand back and stand by”

• fucked up the Census

• withdrew the U.S. from the World Health Organization in the middle of a pandemic

• did so few of his duties that his press staff were forced to state on his daily schedule “President Trump will work from early in the morning until late in the evening. He will make many calls and have many meetings,” allowed his staff to repeatedly violate the Hatch Act

• seemed not to know that Abraham Lincoln was a Republican

• stood before sacred CIA wall of heroes and bragged about his election win

• constantly claimed he was treated worse than any president which presumably includes four that were assassinated and his predecessor whose legitimacy and birthplace were challenged by a racist reality TV show star named Donald Trump

• claimed Andrew Jackson could’ve stopped the Civil War even though he died 16 years before it happened

• said that any opinion poll showing him behind was fake

• claimed that other countries laughed at us before he became president when several world leaders were literally laughing at him

• claimed that the military was out of ammunition before he became President

• created a commission to whitewash American history

• retweeted anti-Islam videos from one of the most racist people in Britain

• claimed ludicrously that the Pulse nightclub shooting wouldn’t have happened if someone there had a gun even though there was an armed security guard there

• hired a senior staffer who cited the non-existent Bowling Green Massacre as a reason to ban Muslims

• had a press secretary who claimed that Nazi Germany never used chemical weapons even though every sane human being knows they used gas to kill millions of Jews and others

• bilked the Secret Service for higher than market rates when they had to stay at Trump properties

• apparently sold pardons on his way out of the White House

• stripped protective status from 59,000 Haitians

• falsely claimed Biden wanted to defund the police

• said that the head of the CDC didn’t know what he was talking about

• tried to rescind protection from DREAMers

• gave himself an A+ for his handling of the pandemic

• tried to start a boycott of Goodyear tires due to an Internet hoax

• said U.S. rates of COVID would be lower if you didn’t count blue states

• deported U.S. veterans who served their country but were undocumented

• claimed he did more for African Americans than any president since Lincoln

• touted a “super-duper” secret “hydrosonic” missile which may or may not be a new “hypersonic” missile or may not exist at all

• retweeted a gif calling Biden a pedophile

• forced through security clearances for his family

• suggested that police officers should rough up suspects

• suggested that Biden was on performance-enhancing drugs

• tried to stop transgender students from being able to use school bathrooms in line with their gender

• suggested the US not accept COVID patients from a cruise ship because it would make US numbers look higher

• nominated a climate change skeptic to chair the committee advising the White House on environmental policy

• retweeted a video doctored to look like Biden had played a song called “Fuck tha Police” at a campaign event

• hugged a disturbingly large number of U.S. flags

• accused Democrats of “treason” for not applauding his State of the Union address

• claimed that the FBI failed to capture the Parkland school shooter because they were “spending too much time” on Russia

• mocked the testimony of Dr Christine Blasey Ford when she accused Brett Kavanaugh of sexual assault

• obsessed over low-flow toilets

• ordered the re-release of more COVID vaccines when there weren’t any to release

• called for the construction of a bizarre garden of heroes with statutes of famous dead Americans as well as at least one Canadian (Alex Trebek)

• hijacked Washington’s July 4th celebrations to give a partisan speech

• took advice from the MyPillow guy

• claimed that migrants seeking a better life in the US were dangerous caravans of drug dealers and rapists

• said nothing when Vladimir Putin poisoned a leading opposition figure

• never seemed to heed the advice of his wife’s “Be Best” campaign

• falsely claimed that mail-in voting is fraudulent

• announced a precipitous withdrawal of troops from Syria which not only handed Russia and ISIS a win but also prompted his defense secretary to resign in protest

• insulted the leader of Canada

• insulted the leader of France

• insulted the leader of Britain

• insulted the leader of Germany

• insulted the leader of Sweden (Sweden!!)

• falsely claimed credit for getting NATO members to increase their share of dues

• blew off two Asia summits even though they were held virtually

• continued lying about spending lots of time at Ground Zero with 9/11 responders,

• said that the Japanese would sit back and watch their “Sony televisions” if the US were ever attacked

• left a NATO summit early in a huff

• stared directly into an eclipse even though everyone over the age of five knows not to do that

• called himself a very stable genius despite significant evidence to the contrary

• refused to commit to a peaceful transfer of power and kept his promise

And a whole bunch of other things I can’t remember .

[luvbinnies]

i made a promise, to distance myself

A boy who kept his feelings locked away and someone who wore their heart on their sleeve. When he walked away, it was without warning, without reason. And they refused to wait for an explanation. Now few months later, forced to work together on a project neither can escape, old wounds resurface. Silence turns into stolen glances, resentments bleeds into something dangerously familiar, and the past refuses to stay buried.

Genre: fluff, angst, exs to lovers, el oh el.

warnings: swearing, isaac newton mentioned, could be sad ig (?), i can't think of anything else

a/n: im back from the dead, recently fell under a moving car and got dumped el oh el, some parts in here are inspo by like my actual life, i have a list of all the similarities if anyone is curiosu at the end of the story. basically wake up from a dream where me and my ex got back together and wrote this.

wc: 9.6k (longest fic ever el oh el)

Jumping off a flight of stairs was probably not the best idea, but it was the only thing you could think of at the moment.

Reluctantly moving down the stairs and following the loud clunk sounds of your stupid bright neon green water bottle. Books and papers of drawings and blueprints that won't fit into your messenger bag without getting damaged. Maybe you should’ve listened to when people said getting a regular backpack was much more convenient than the bag you had now, but it was much more fashionable. 

Landing at the bottom of the staircase, take a moment to breathe and prepare yourself for having to go back up five flights of stairs to get to class. Because even though the school is one of the prestigious in the country, they refuse to have any sort of elevators to ruin their “dark academic” aesthetic of the building. 

Eyes traveling on the old cobbled stoned flooring, trying to locate a neo-coded water bottle, your mother insisted on getting since she read somewhere green is this year's lucky colour. Probably found in some ridiculous article, really got to get her off social media. 

Bright neon green slipped through your peripheral vision, turning to face the still rolling bottle and walking towards it before it makes you late for your next class. It stops in front of a pair of solid black shoes, one that looks all too familiar. The figure stops at the feeling of the ratchet bottle that wants to ruin your day even more than it already has. 

A recognizable pale hand, with a silver ring on the index,  hesitantly drops down to pick up the bottle that led you down a path to the literal pits of hell for you. Eyes not dare looking up from the ground, taking your somewhat free hand and extending out your pinky to the now stranger you have a bitter taste in your mouth everytime you come near. Once the feeling of your pinky is weighted down by the feeling of the water bottle’s hook, you take off up the stairs with energy that you didn’t think you had anymore left of, as it’s your third time climbing these stairs in the past ten minutes. 

Not a care in the world if a stranger walks by and deem you as a rude bastard who can’t even say thank you, because you can;t even say a word to the “nice stranger” who handed you your water bottle. All you can do around him now is just run and avoid. That’s what you continue to do until you reach your class, probably looking a little weird as you were also cursing at your bottle and gravity, mainly isaac newton, he’s usually the bane of all your problems lately, besides the man you used to call yours. 

—

His friends would sometimes joke to him that the world is too fast for him at times, usually when he doesn’t get a joke right away or for him zoning out, especially as it has been worse in these past few months. 

But that happened so fast, he has no idea what to do, or how to react but just to stare at your figure rushing up the stairs. Sunghoon’s jaw tightens as you fade away up the many flights of stairs. Acting like he is some contagious virus, even afraid to touch him, much less look at him. 

He would remember when their friend group was still intact and when they would all hang out, how sometimes the gang would get too overwhelming, even from the other side of the room you would catch his eye and always give him a comforting smile. And the simple eye contact with one another, while the world moves along around them. 

But he had lost that with you and it’s all his fault. 

—

Taking a little break from the assignment in front of you to angrily tap on your phone so the ads on your music app stop, knowing you aren’t really actually doing anything to get rid of them unless you become one of the apps victims and pay for music. But your stubbornness and being broke, so aggressively hitting your phone is your next best solution. 

The little silence after the ad is finally done and the next song is about to start, you can hear a mechanical pencil roll off of a desk. A quiet clatter could barely be noticed in the slight hum of the library. You didn’t hear it at first, the angry high you had because of the ad made you lock out of concentrating from your work— until you noticed the hand reaching for it making you pause.

Long pale fingers. A silver ring on the index.

You know those hands, it's your second time seeing them in… you weren’t too sure the last time you saw those hands when they were wrapped around your water bottle. All you knew was that you were seeing those hands much sooner than you needed to. 

Those hands, you remember the weight of those hands in yours, the way they used to hold your face and caress your cheek, the way they tug at your sleeves on your sweater absentmindedly. 

And you recognize the pencil.

It’s yours.

Not exactly, but you did buy that pencil. 

Something in you starts feeling nauseous, or light-headed, you couldn’t really figure out in the moment because without thinking, you reach out and yank that pencil right out of his grip. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have done that, because now that gross boy opened his mouth, but you didn’t care. 

Sunghoon blinks. “Hey did you just—”

Whenever you were bored in class you would always do fun pencil tricks and even taught him how to do some with this said pencil in your hands. 

Spinning the pencil around, inspecting it with feigned interest, not caring about the boy next to you with his mouth open like a fish staring at you. “Huh. I forgot how nice this pencil was.”

Now his mouth is close as he clenches his jaw, his  stare sharpening. “You can’t be serious.”

Finally turning your head to look at him, trying to maintain the emotions on your face. Instead of saying something you might end up regretting, in the fear of sounding cringe, you just shrug. 

“Give it back.”

“Why?” Resting your chin on your hand. “It’s mine.”

He exhales sharply, the kind of exasperated breath he used to let out when you teased for taking things too seriously. Except now there’s a little bit of an edge to everything. 

“You gave it to me.”

You tilt your head “Did I?”

You weren’t sure if he could clench his jaw any harder, but somehow he does. “Yeah. You did.”

Your grip on the pencil tightens. You can’t say you remember everything that was said the night of the break up, but you remember the way you felt, the way he left without explanation— like he couldn’t bear to stay with you any second longer. As if he couldn’t stand to hold on to something that was already slipping away. 

He didn’t even let you have a say, you didn’t get the chance to do anything, not even fight for what was yours then. 

So now you hold on to that damn pencil. 

“Well,” you say, voice light, “technically, it was mine first.”

Sunghoon lets out a humorless laugh, one you don’t recognize in this fever dream daze of nostalgia. Leaning against the table, he’s close now, closer than you could've prepared for. You hate the way your heart stumbles over itself at the lack of distance, at the way he still smells the same— like something clean and sharp, a little cologne you had bought him about a year ago for his birthday. 

His voice drops an octave. “You’re seriously pulling this shit?”

Shrugging again, simply just pulling a stare you hope doesn’t reveal how fast your heart is beating stupidly like it used to. 

He watches you for a long second, his brown eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to figure out what type of game you were playing. But then, not arguing, instead of pushing back, he just exhales softly. 

“Fine,” he mutters, “Keep it.”

And then, right before he turns away— so quiet you almost think you had imagined it—

“It suits you better anyways.”

You blink.

Before you could say anything, maybe asking what the fuck he meant by what he said, he’s already walking off. Leaving you with a mechanical pencil in your hands and this time you watching him as he walks away, with a taste of words you don’t quite understand.

—

Two year ago

Rain pitter patters against the windows, a dull hum in the background in the near-empty classroom. It’s late— too late for anyone to be here— you didn’t care, you were too stubborn. Chewing on your nail, brows furrowed in concentration as you glare at your notebook, completely oblivious to the fact that Sunghoon hasn’t turned a page in the last ten minutes. 

He should be focusing. He should be running through formulas in his head, thinking about the test tomorrow, or at the very least be pretending to be studying. Instead, he’s watching you— watching the way you puff out your cheeks when you stop understanding what you were just doing, the way you spin the pencil in your hand absentmindedly, the way you whisper to yourself while doing each exercise when you think no one’s listening.

You’re always like this– loud without meaning to be, pulling attention without even trying. 

He should’ve known sooner. That you were dangerous in the kind of way that crept up on him, slipping past his defenses before he had the chance to stop it. 

“Sunghoon.”

Your voice snaps him back to reality, he straightens, forcing his face into something neutral. “What?”

Pushing your notebook towards him, sighing dramatically. “Did you do this one yet? I don’t know if I did it correctly.”

He glances at your notebook, eyes widening a little, as to the most he could see on the page was a bunch of scribbles and some incoherent formulas and calculation. Having a hard time reading it , before shifting his chair closer. You don’t think twice about it when your shoulders brush. You never do. 

But he does.

He always does. 

“Is this your answer, at the corner?” he asks, taking your pencil without thinking, to circle the little number at the bottom of the page. Your fingers graze for a second, and he wonders if you feel the static the way he does. Probably not. You’d pull away if you did.

He attempted to go over your work, commenting on what you have written in a voice that’s much steadier than he feels. You nod along, resting your chin on your hand, eye flickering between his face and page. 

“I hate Isaac Newton and that stupid apple.” you grumble.

Sunghoon huffs a quiet laugh shaking his head. “You just overthink everything.”

You groan. “I wish that apple killed that stupid white man.” 

He watches as you bury your head in your arms on the table, tapping your forehead lightly with the end of the pencil before setting it back down. “Just stop overthinking and wishing death upon an already dead man.”

Lifting your head, you blink at him, lips parting like you want to argue, but for a brief moment, something passes between the two of you— something neither of you have a name for yet.

And then you roll your eyes, reaching for your notebook. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever, idiot.”

Sunghoon watches as you turn your pages to start a new question, completely unaware of the way his fingers twitch against his knee, resisting the urge to brush a stray strand of hair from your face.

Yeah.

He’s in trouble. 

—

A few months ago

The night air is cold, but not as cold as the space between you.

Your arms are crossed. His hands are shoved into his pockets.

A street light flickers overhead. A car passes in the distance. 

Sunghoon exhales, steadying himself.

Then. before he can stop it— before he can think too hard about what he’s about to lose—

“I think we should break up.”

Silence.

The kind that swallows everything whole.

Your lips part, but no words come out. 

Your lips part, but no words come out.

The look in your eyes— confusion, disbelief, then something else, something that burns— 

“What-Why?”

He doesn’t answer. Or maybe he does, but it’s not the right thing.

It’s never the right thing.

The air is heavy, thick with things neither of you are saying.

Then, finally— your voice, quieter this time.

“Okay.”

A single step back. Then another.

And then—

Nothing. 

—

The classroom hums with chatter, students moving around and the teacher speaking about some project, but you were barely listening. Your attention is elsewhere— on your notebook, on the scratches of pen against paper, literally anything but him.

He was two rows ahead, resting his chin on his hand, half-focused on his laptop. Almost similar to you right now. Too similar. 

You don’t look at him. You don’t let yourself.

But then—

“For the project, you’ll be working in pairs.”

There is a ripple of movement through the room, students glancing around already choosing their partners. 

“I’ve assigned them to you.”

Your stomach twists. 

You sit a little straighter. Your fingers tighten around your pen. 

 The professor starts listing off names. One by one, students find their partner. You’re holding your breath, waiting for—

And then—

Your name.

And then, immediately after—

His. 

You freeze.

The room suddenly feels too small, the air too thick. 

Someone nudges your arm, murmuring something about how lucky you are since you get to work with the “hottest guy on campus”, but their voice is distant, muffled by the sound of blood rushing in your ears.

Slowly, hesitantly, you lift your gaze. 

Sunghoon had turned in his seat. 

For the first time in months, you’re looking at each other. 

And the worst part? He doesn’t even look surprised. 

—

Sunghoon doesn’t hear from you for the rest of the day. 

Not a text, not a call— nothing.

And the, at exactly 11:51 pm., an email lands in his inbox.

Subject: Project Task

From: yn@beliftuniversity.com

To: parksunghoon@beliftuniversity.com 

Attached is the project outline. I’ve divided the tasks. I’ll handle the structural analysis and concept sketches. You can do the mechanical components. Tell me when you are done. 

Sent from my phone

That’s it. No greeting. No unnecessary words. Not  even your name.

Sunghoon exhales through his nose, clicking open the file. You’ve already set up everything— titles, labels, even deadlines. You’ve practically built a wall of professionalism between you, as if you were never anything but classmates. 

And it pisses him off.

Fine. two can play this game. 

He types a reply, short and to the point.

Subject: Re: Project Tasks

Got it. 

He doesn’t hit send. 

His fingers hover over the keyboard. His jaw clenches.

Then, in a moment of stubborn impulse, he types—

You can’t avoid me forever.

And hits send before he can take it back.

—

“You know, he’s right.”

You shoot a glare over at Sunoo. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, kicking his feet up on the bench. “You can’t ignore him forever.”

“I can, actually.” you sip your matcha pointedly. “It’s called email.”

He snorts. “You sound like a middle-aged professor.”

“Good. Maybe he’ll leave me alone then.”

Sunoo raises an eyebrow. “He literally told you, ‘You can’t avoid me forever.’”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, and? I don’t care.”

The words are barely out of your mouth when Sunoo suddenly stiffens, eyes darting over your shoulder. 

“Uh—”

You don’t even have to ask. You just know.

There’s a familiar shift to the air, an awareness pressing down on your skin. 

And then, just to confirm it—

“Shit,” Sunoo mutters. “He’s down the hall.”

You don’t think. You just move.

Your hands shoot out, gripping his sleeve as you drag them down the corridor. 

“Are you serious?!” he hiss between stumbling steps.

“Shut up, shut up , shut up—”

“Please can we stop running, I don’t think he would be chasing us down for sport.”

You don’t care. You don’t turn around because you know if you do, you’ll see Sunghoon standing there, staring after you, that unreadable look on his face. 

And you are not giving him that satisfaction.

Not today. 

—

Staring at your laptop screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, the flashing cursor blinking back at you in defiance. You’ve been avoiding this email for days— every time you think about it your stomach churns, and you mind races with excuses. 

You don’t want to deal with him. Not now. Not ever again.

The project, the meeting, the unavoidable tension. You had hoped, foolishly, that you could really just avoid Sunghoon completely— keep everything strictly professional, send email, handle the assignment without having to face him in person. But that plan was crushed the moment the email landed in your inbox, his name in bold. 

“Let’s meet in person tomorrow to go over the project. I’ll bring the drafts.”

Of course, Sunghoon had to take the initiative. You had a suspicion he’d never let you hide behind your screen forever. He was stubborn, too, in a way that always seemed to get under your skin. 

You arrived at the library, dragging your feet, already feeling the weight of the situation settle in your chest. The project was an assignment, but the real challenge was having to sit across from him, pretending that nothing had happened, pretending that the last year— no, the last months— hadn’t been a whirlwind of frustration and heartache.

But here you were, faced with reality. You walked into the library, hoping to avoid eye contact, but you couldn’t escape the familiar sight of him sitting at a table with all his papers neatly organized, a slight form on his face as he scanned the documents. 

His eyes flicked up when he saw you enter, and for a second, your heart skipped a beat. But you force yourself to remain calm. He was just a classmate now, just another part of your academic routine. Nothing more. 

You set your things down at the table across from him, pulling your laptop out with the practiced motions of someone who had done this a thousand times before. You weren;t going to make this more personal than it had to be. No small talk. No catching up. Just the project. 

“Hey,” Sunghoon greeted, his voice neutral but carrying the weight of something unsaid. He glanced at the papers in front of you and then back to you. “Are you okay with everything so far? I made some revisions to the outline.”

You didn;t look at him. Instead, you glanced at the project papers and began sorting through them, avoiding his gaze entirely. “I’ll read them over later. Just… let’s focus on getting it done.”

You felt his eyes on you, the tension palpable in the air, but you refused to acknowledge it. You had your own part to do, your own work to focus on. Nothing else mattered right now. The project was the only thing that mattered. 

—

Sunghoon sighed, and you could hear the edge of frustration creeping into his voice. “Look, I know this isn;t easy for either of us, but we’re stuck with each other for this project. We might as well get it done right.”

“I’m not here to talk,” you snapped back, the words sharp and defensive. “Just focus on your part. I’ll handle mine.”

His expression hardened , but he didn’t push it any further. He opened up his own laptop and began typing, the sound of the keyboard tapping filling the silence between the both of you. 

For a while, it was quiet— just the sound of typing, rustling of papers. But no matter how hard you tried to focus, you couldn;’t shake the nagging feeling that he was watching you. His presence was like a shadow that followed your every move you made, and you hated how it made your chest tighten. You shouldn’t feel like this. You had no reason to. This wasn’t supposed to be personal. It was just a project. 

But then, suddenly, Sunghoon spoke again, his voice quieter, almost reluctant.

“You know,” he said, voice low but insistent, “we used to work well together. Back in high school. Why are you making this harder than it has to be?”

You froze, your fingers still on the keyboard. You could feel the old pain creep up your throat, but you swallowed it down, shoving it away. No. Don’t go there.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, your voice steady but with a hint of something you don’t want to put a name to. And then, with a sigh, he turned his attention back to his laptop, typing in silence for a long time. 

—

Two year ago

 It had been a late night at the library, the kind where the air felt thick with concentration and the promise of deadlines hanging over every student in the building. You were sitting at the same table as Sunghoon, both of you buried in textbooks, trying to get ahead before the weekend.

It was supposed to be just another study session, but something felt different. Maybe it was the way the soft overhead lights cast shadows over his features or how the silence between you two wasn’t awkward but comfortable. You couldn’t help it— his face was so focused, his lips slightly pursed in concentration, and for some reason, the sight of him studying like that made your heart skip. 

“Is there something on my face?” he asked, his voice teasing but gentle.

You blinked and quickly looked away, flustered. “No … it’s just, you look… nice when you study.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. He leaned forward slightly, his voice lower than usual. “Nice, huh? That’s a first.”

You wanted to curl up and die from embarrassment, but instead you found yourself smiling despite the heat in your cheeks. Something about being with him felt so easy, so natural.

And then, before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out. “You look… pretty. When you study.”

There was a long pause, and then Sunghoon chuckled, his smile widening. “Pretty, huh? Well, that’s new.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed too, the awkwardness melting away in the warmth of his gaze. That moment— when you both realized that maybe there was something more there— was when it all started. 

—

The silence in the library stretches again. You go back to your laptop, trying to focus on the work in front of you. But the memory of that moment, of those words you’d said so long ago, hangs in the air like a ghost.

Sunghoon’s presence is undeniable now. Every time his shoulder brushes against yours as he reaches for his drink, it feels like a jolt of electricity. You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to keep working, to ignore the way his proximity makes your heart race. 

“You know, if we just worked together instead of pretending we’re strangers, this would be a lot easier,” Sunghoon says again, his voice a little more insistent now, but still carrying that gentle tone. 

You refuse to look up, clenching your jaw. “Just finish your part. I’ll finish mine.”

“I’ve always liked how stubborn you are,” he mutters, but there’s a soft fondness behind the words. “But you’re going to make this harder than it has to be, aren’t you?”

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to snap back. But the reality is that he’s right. You are making this harder. You’re making everything harder by refusing to acknowledge how much you still feel for him.

But you can’t admit that, not now, not when the walls between you two are so high, so insurmountable. 

—

It’s late—too late for anyone to be at the library anymore. The harsh overhead lights flicker in the empty room, casting long shadows on the tables where students usually sat, buried in their books. But not you. You’re still here, alone, a stack of textbooks and papers spread out before you. The hum of the fluorescent lights fills the air, broken only by the soft tapping of your fingers on the keyboard.

You’ve been here for hours, the deadline looming closer with every passing second. Your mind is tired, but you won’t leave until you finish. It’s like a race against time. A way to distract yourself from everything else.

But then, you feel it. A presence.

You look up, and there’s Sunghoon, standing by the entrance, his gaze scanning the room. You immediately look away, pretending you hadn’t seen him. Why is he here? You weren’t supposed to see him, not tonight.

He walks toward you slowly, his footsteps soft but deliberate. You keep your eyes down, focused on the papers in front of you, but you can feel him getting closer.

“You’re still here?” Sunghoon says, his voice low, like he’s not sure what to make of the situation.

You sigh, unwilling to make this a conversation. “I’m working. Is that a problem?”

“No,” he answers quickly, but there’s a softness to his tone now. Something gentler. “Just... thought you’d left by now.”

You don’t look up, but you hear him pull out the chair opposite you. He sits down, but doesn’t speak immediately. You don’t say anything either. It’s awkward. You try to focus on the work in front of you, trying to ignore the feeling of his presence, so close but still so far away.

You keep your head down, but the longer you stay in the silence, the more you feel the walls you’ve built start to crumble, piece by piece. He doesn’t push you. Doesn’t force a conversation. He just... stays.

You try not to think too much about it. It’s just Sunghoon. Just a classmate.

But then, hours later, you’re blinking, your head feeling heavy as you try to focus on the screen in front of you. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until your eyelids started to flutter. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the exhaustion catches up with you.

You don’t even realize you’ve nodded off until you’re suddenly jerked awake, your head jerking up from the desk. The library is quiet, almost too quiet, and the light from the desk lamp casts a soft glow around the room. That’s when you notice it.

A jacket—dark, heavy, and familiar—draped over your shoulders.

You blink, still groggy from sleep, and turn to see that Sunghoon is gone, his chair empty. You try to shake the fogginess from your mind, but there’s no denying it: He left his jacket with you.

You didn’t hear him come back. Didn’t feel him approaching. But somehow, he’d slipped it onto you while you were asleep, without a sound.

You sit there for a moment, the jacket still warm against your skin. His scent clings to it, and you find yourself unable to take it off. It feels wrong to just leave it behind, but you’re not sure why it feels so important to keep it on.

You look down at your own hands, your fingers grazing the sleeve, feeling the weight of the jacket, both literally and emotionally. You’re not sure if it’s the jacket that’s weighing on you or the memories that come with it. But it’s there. And so is he.

You stay there for a few more minutes, just sitting in the quiet, knowing that it would be impossible to get anything more done tonight. You pack up your things, but you don’t take off the jacket. Instead, you walk out of the library with it on, your heart a little heavier than when you came in.

—

It was dark outside, and the bus was filled with the soft chatter of your classmates. You and Sunghoon were sitting in the same seat, your shoulders brushing as you both leaned against the window, tired from the day’s activities.

You’d always been close, never quite aware of how it felt to have someone just be there with you. But that day, there was something different about it. It was like you both had settled into this quiet rhythm—comfortable, easy.

You leaned your head against the window, gazing out at the passing lights. The bus was warm, and your eyes were starting to grow heavy from the day’s exhaustion. Without realizing it, you drifted off, your head slipping onto Sunghoon’s shoulder.

He didn’t immediately pull away, didn’t complain. He just let you sleep, his body slightly tensing at the sudden closeness, but not enough to push you away.

And when you woke up, it wasn’t awkward. You just rubbed your eyes, looked up at him, and smiled.

“You’re comfy,” you murmured.

Sunghoon chuckled softly. “You really just fell asleep on me, huh?”

You laughed, feeling a warmth in your chest. “It’s not like I did it on purpose. I didn’t even realize.”

And even though it had only been a few seconds, you both lingered in that moment, your eyes meeting briefly before he gave you a smile that made your heart flutter.

You’d brushed it off as nothing—just a friendly gesture.

—

You’re still sitting in your room, the jacket still on your shoulders. It feels like a weight, not because it’s heavy, but because of the memories it brings. The warmth lingers on your skin, but so does the uncertainty. You can’t figure out why this is bothering you so much.

Your phone buzzes on the table, pulling you from your thoughts. A new email. You don’t need to look at it to know it’s from him. Sunghoon.

The message is simple: “Still need help with the project. Let me know if you want to meet up.”

You close your eyes and let out a slow breath. You want to ignore it. Pretend you didn’t see it. But you can’t. Because part of you wants him to be there. Part of you wants him to still be the one to help you, even if you don’t want to admit it.

You stand up, pacing around the room, the jacket slipping slightly off your shoulders as you move. You pull it tighter around you, almost subconsciously.

You know you’ll have to face him again. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe sooner. Hopefully later. But right now, with his jacket still draped over you, you’re not sure if you're ready.

But for some reason, you know you’re going to have to take it off.

—

You walk into the classroom, clutching the jacket in your hands. It’s been a couple of days since you woke up to find it draped over your shoulders, Sunghoon’s jacket—a silent gesture that spoke more than words ever could. He hadn’t said anything when you first found it. It had simply been there. At first, you thought it was an accident, but the longer you held onto it, the more it felt like something else. You hadn’t returned it immediately, unsure why you kept it. But now, with the fact the two of you share a class together, it felt like the right time.

You spot him sitting by the window, alone, lost in whatever thoughts occupy his mind. He doesn’t notice you as you approach, and the moment feels strangely... intimate, even though you're still far from the comfort you once shared.

You stand in front of him, holding out the jacket, but he doesn’t immediately take it. His eyes flicker up, and for a split second, something unreadable passes between you. He reaches for the jacket, but as his fingers brush yours, it’s more of a reflex than any real desire to touch.

Before you can pull away, a voice from behind you cuts through the moment.

"Are you two... together or just friends?"

You glance over to find a couple of classmates watching you both curiously. It’s a casual question, but the curiosity in their eyes is unmistakable. Sunghoon’s hand freezes mid-motion, his fingers still hovering over the jacket. He looks back at them briefly, his gaze faltering, not quite meeting yours.

For a moment, you’re not sure what to say. You notice how Sunghoon looks at the ground, avoiding any real response. His lips press together, his hand still unsure of whether to take the jacket back or not. He’s hesitant, as always.

You, on the other hand, feel the weight of the question, but you don’t shy away from it. Not this time. You stand tall, glancing over at your classmates and meeting their gaze.

“We’re just friends,” you say, your voice steady and clear. “Nothing more.”

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything. He just takes the jacket from your hand, his fingers brushing yours again, but this time it’s almost mechanical. You turn away quickly, the moment lingering behind you like an unspoken tension.

Your classmates exchange glances, their curiosity piqued, but they don’t push further. They turn their attention to the front of the room as class starts, but the question still lingers in the air.

You sit down at your desk, feeling the eyes of your classmates on you for a moment longer than usual. You force yourself to focus, pretending it doesn’t matter, but the thought of that brief interaction, the way Sunghoon avoided the question, settles heavily in your chest.

The class continues, but your mind drifts, back to that jacket and the weight of unspoken words. You can’t help but wonder what he might’ve said if you hadn’t answered for both of you.

No, that’s what he should’ve said because you guys were not dating, he broke up with you, and now the two of you were simply forced to work together. That’s it. 

—

The autumn air was crisp, carrying the scent of fallen leaves as the two of you walked side by side down the quiet street. The school festival had just ended, and the distant hum of laughter and music still echoed behind you. Groups of students were lingering back at the event, but somehow, the two of you ended up here, together, away from it all. 

It wasn’t planned. It never was with him. It was just how things always seemed to happen.

You hugged your arms around yourself because of the cold, cursing at yourself for not bringing a bigger jacket knowing the weather but wanting to look good for the event. He walked a little ahead, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jackets, his head tilted slightly towards you as if he was waiting for you to say something. 

You had always been the talker between the both of you. The one who made friends easily, the one who never hesitated. But right now, the words sat heavy on your tongue, unspoken. 

He let out a small sigh, looking up at the sky. “It’s late.”

“You should’ve left earlier then.”

He huffed, a tiny, almost-smile tugging at his lips before he looked back ahead. “You didn’t have to leave, you know.”

You shrugged. “Didn’t feel like staying.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. The festival had been fine, fun even. But then you’d seen him standing by himself, lingering near the edges of the crowd, not quite a part of it. And suddenly, the excitement of it all had dimmed. 

He kicked a small rock with the tip of his shoe, watching it tumble along the pavement. “Didn’t think you were the type to leave a party early.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

A breeze picked up, and instinctively, you crossed your arms tighter over yourself. Without a word, Sunghoon shrugged off his jacket and held it out to you.

You blinked at him. “What are you doing?”

“You’re cold.”

You scoffed. “I’m not cold.”

He didn’t say anything, just kept holding the jacket out with that blank expression of his— the one that meant he wasn;t going to argue. You hesitated for a second too long, and then, as if deciding for you, he draped it over your shoulders himself. 

You looked up at him, a retort on the tip of your tongue, but then you caught the way his fingers lingered just a second longer against your shoulder, the way he swallowed, like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. 

It was nothing.

It was everything.

Your heart did something stranger in your chest, a quiet stutter. But then he pulled away, shoving his hands back into his pockets, eyes flickering elsewhere like it was no big deal.

Like he didn’t just leave you standing there in the middle of the empty street, drowning in the scent of his cologne, trying not to overthink what had just happened. 

“Let’s go.” he said, his voice calm, steady. Like always. 

You didn’t move right away. You just watched him, this boy who always seemed out of reach.

Then you exhaled and started walking again, side by side, your steps falling in sync.

And if your hands brushed once— just once— neither of you said a word about it. 

—

After class, you head out of the room, your mind still lingering on the awkward exchange. As you walk down the hallway, you notice Sunghoon a few paces behind you, his expression neutral. You don’t turn around, but you can feel his presence. It;s the same as always, but somehow it’s different.

The hallway stretches ahead of you both, and you find yourself wondering if it’s the same for him, if he’s feeling the same weight of the unsaid words hanging in the air between you. But then you push the thought away. You can’t keep thinking about it. Not now. Not like this.

The day continues, but it doesn’t feel the same. Something has shifted again. Not a big thing, just the subtle change in the air whenever Sunghoon is around. But for now, you focus on the present. The project. The work. There’s no room for anything else. At least not yet. 

—

Sunghoon hated studying in public places. He hated the noise, the crowded spaces, the way it was impossible to concentrate. But for some reason, he was here.

With you.

The library was dimly lit, the only sounds coming from the occasional turning of pages and the soft clicking of keyboards. It was nearly empty at this hour, just the two of you tucked away in a corner, buried under textbooks and notes.

You sighed dramatically, stretching your arms over your head before slumping onto the desk. “I’m going to die here.”

Sunghoon didn’t look up from his notes. “You say that every time we study.”

“Yeah, and one day it’ll be true. And when that day comes, I hope you feel bad about it.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Dramatic.”

You turned your head to look at him, resting your cheek against your arm. The lamplight softened his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the curve of his nose, the way his lashes cast faint shadows on his skin. 

He was so pretty.

Unfairly so.

You frowned, furrowing your brows. “Do you know you’re pretty?”

That finally made him look up. He blinked at you, pen pausing mid-air. “What?”

“What?”

There was a flicker of something in his expression— surprise, amusement, something unreadable. He tilted his head slightly. “I don’t think about that kind of stuff.”

You scoff. “Oh shut up.”

Sunghoon shook his head, turning back to his notes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Because it’s a weird question.”

“It’s not weird.” You sighed, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. “I just think it’s unfair that some people get to be smart and pretty.”

His lips twitched, like he was trying not to smile. “You’re calling me smart too?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

You hadn’t meant anything by it. It was just a passing thought, casual observation. But for some reason. Sunghoon kept stealing glances at you for the rest of the night, his fingers tapping idly against his notebook, like he was trying to figure something out. 

—

The library is quieter than usual tonight. The steady hum of air conditioning fills the space, and the dim, golden glow of the desk lamps casts long shadows on the wooden tables. It’s late— too late to still be working— but neither of you have left.

At first, you barely acknowledged each other. The project was the only thing keeping you here and even then, you refused to speak unless absolutely necessary. You typed your sections. He worked on his. Simple.

But at some point, between the furious clicking of keys and the scratching of his pen against paper, something shifted. 

The silence wasn’t as sharpe anymore. The air between you wasn’t quite so cold.

You were still stubborn, still keeping your distance, but Sunghoon had started to slip through the cracks. 

It was in the way he quietly slid your match closer when he noticed you reaching for it absentmindedly. In the way his eyes lingered a second longer than necessary whenever you furrowed your brows at the screen, lost in thought. In the way he wordlessly handed you a new pen when yours ran out of ink, his fingers brushing yours just for a second.

Little things.

Things you didn’t want to acknowledge.

Things that made it harder to pretend that you hadn’t missed this— missed him.

You force yourself to focus on the words in front of you, but your mind is elsewhere. On him. On the past. 

—

It had been a long night.

You weren’t supposed to stay out this late, but somehow, time slipped away. It was just the two of you, walking home after an evening study session, the sky stretched out in a blanket of deep navy blue. The air was crisp, autumn settling in with a quiet chill, and your footsteps echoed against the empty sidewalk.

“I can’t feel my fingers,” you muttered, shoving your hands into your hoodie pockets.

Sunghoon glanced at you, amused. “Then why didn’t you bring gloves?”

“Because I didn’t know it’d be this cold.”

“You say that every year.”

You huffed, nudging him with your shoulder. “And every year, I am caught off guard.”

He rolled his eyes but reached for your sleeve, tugging your arm towards him. Before you could react, he took one of your hands in his, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket along with his own.

The warmth of his palm against yours sent a shiver up your spine— not from the cold, but from something else. 

Something you hadn’t quite named yet.

Neither of you said anything about it. You just kept walkin, the streelights casting soft golden halos around you.

You reached your doorstep too soon. 

Sunghoon stood there, shifting on his feet, his fingers still loosely curled around yours.

You should’ve pulled away. You should’ve said goodnight. But instead, you just stood there staring at him.

The light from the porch illuminated the sharp angles of his face, the way his dark eyes softened when they met yours. His gaze flickered down— just for a second— before he quickly looked away.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were. “Are you gonna keep standing there, or—”

“Shut up,” he muttered.

And then—-

He kissed you. 

It was hesitant, barely a whisper of contact. But it sent your heart into a frenzy, your breath hitching, fingers tightening around him without thinking. 

When he pulled away, his ears were red, and he wouldn’t meet your eyes. “I— I wasn’t planning to do that.”

You blinked at him, mind still catching up. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeated, this time smiling.

Sunghoon exhaled, sometimes easing his shoulders.

“You;re still holding my hand.” you pointed out. 

He let go immediately, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Shut up.”

But you could see the way the corners of his lips twitched upwards. 

—

You stare at the screen in front of you, but the words are a blur. The memory lingers, making your chest feel tight.

Sunghoon shifts besides you stretching out his arms. His sleeves push up slightly, revealing the faint outline of veins along his forearms. You look away quickly, annoyed with yourself. 

This is ridiculous.

You don’t care. You don’t.

“Take a break,” he says, voice low.

You exhale, rubbing at your temples. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

You shoot him a glare, but he’s already looking back at his screen, unaffected. Typical. 

Silence settles between you again, but it’s different now. He’s too close, the air between you too charged. 

And then—

“Do you still hate me?”

Your breath catches. The question is quiet, but it feels deafening.

You turn to him, meeting his gaze for the first time in what feels like hours. His eyes are steady, but there’s something else there— something raw, something careful. 

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

He swallows. “ you won’t even look at me.”

You force yourself to scoff, to roll your eyes. “I look at you all the time.”

“Not like before.”

That makes you freeze.

Because he’s right. 

Before— before everything— you had looked at him like he held the universe in his hands. And maybe, in some ways, he had.

But that was then.

And now—

Now you don’t know what to do with this version of him, this version of you.

The air is thick with something you don’t want to name. 

And before you can think better of it, before you can stop yourself—

You kiss him. 

It's reckless, desperate, a collision of past and present, of things left unsaid and things you don’t want to admit.

His lips part slightly in surprise, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans in, his fingers grazing your jaw, like he’s afraid to break the moment.

And maybe you are too. 

But then—

Reality crashed back in.

Your eyes widen, and you pull away abruptly, breathless, heart hammering.

Sunghoon blinks, still processing, “Wait—”

But you’re already pushing away from the table, standing up too quickly, your chair scraping against the floor.

“I have to go,” you say, voice unsteady.

And before he can stop you, before he can say anything else—

You turn and walk away.

Leaving him sitting there, watching you go.

Again. 

—

Avoidance has always been your best defense.

You mastered it after the breakup, convincing yourself that if you could just stay out of Sunghoon’s orbit, then none of it— none of the pain, none of the unanswered questions, none of him— could touch you.

But ever since that kiss, it’s been impossible to keep up the act.

You stop sitting in your usual spots in the library. You change your walking routes between classes. You leave early to avoid any chance of running into him. Your emails about the project become even shorter, even more detached.

And still— it doesn’t feel like enough

Because the problem isn’t just him.

It’s you.

It’s the way your mind keeps replaying that night in the library, the way your lips still burn with the memory of his, the way your chest aches everytime you think about how you didn’t pull away immediately.

You shouldn’t have let it happen.

You shouldn’t have wanted it to.

But worst of all— you shouldn’t still want it now.

You tell yourself this over and over again. But nine of it matters when you turn the corner one evening, only to find yourself face-to-face with the one person you’ve been trying so hard to avoid. 

Sunghoon.

Waiting for you.

Like he knew.

“You’re avoiding me again,” he says, his voice eerily calm.

You grip your bag tighter and look away. “I’m busy.”

“Liar.”

The word lands heavier than it should.

You take a step back, but he matches it, blocking your way. His eyes search yours, and you can feel how tired he is— tired of the silence, of the pretending, of whatever this is. 

“Do you hate me that much?” His voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it, something sharp and desperate. 

You exhale hardly. “Sunghoon—”

“Just answer me,” he pressed, jaw clenched. “Do you hate me?”

The words catch in your throat. 

You should say yes. You should give him the finality he seems to be looking for. 

But you can’t. 

And maybe he sees it— maybe he sees the way you falter, the way your fingers tighten around the strap of your bag— because his expression shifts.

And then—

The door beside you suddenly swings open. A group of students spills out, laughing and chatting, shoving past both of you. 

You barely register it before someone crashes into you from behind, sending you stumbling backwards—

Right into the supply closet.

And of course— because the universe must hate you— the force of it slams Sunghoon into the tiny space as well. 

And before either of you can react— click.

The door locks

Silence.

Then—

“You have got to be kidding me,” you hiss. 

Sunghoon tries the handle, but it doesn’t budge. He exhales sharply, resting his forehead against the door for a second before turning back to you. 

“Great.”

You let out a bitter laugh, crossing your arms. “What, you think I planned this?”

“No, but it’s convenient, isn’t it?” He glares at you, frustration bleeding into every word. “You’re always running away, and now you can’t.”

Your pulse spikes. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he mutters. “You left the night. You’ve been avoiding me ever since. You won’t even talk to me—”

“Because there’s nothing to say!” you snap.

“Bullshit!” His voice rises, his patience unraveling. “Don’t act like you don’t care. You kissed me, and then you ran away like it meant nothing.”

You freeze.

Because he’s right.

It wasn’t nothing.

But admitting that? Giving him that satisfaction? You can’t.

So you do what you do best. 

You push back

“You don’t get to act like you’re the victim here, Sunghoon,” you say, voice colder now. “Not when you broke up with me.”

Something flickers across his face.

“And not just that,” you continue, the weight of everything you’ve bottled up finally breaking through. “You left me without any warning. You didn’t talk to me about what was wrong. You didn’t even try. You just decided one day that it was over and that was it.”

—

It had been an ordinary afternoon. You remember it oo well— how he wouldn’t look at you, how his hands trembled slightly as he shoved them into his pockets.

And then—

“I think we should break up.”

The words hit you like a slap.

You laughed at first, thinking it was some sort of joke. But then you saw the way he avoided your gaze. The way his fingers curled into fists.

“Why?” Your voice had cracked. “What happened? Did I do something?”

He had only shaken his head. “It’s just…. I don’t think this is going to work.”

“What—”

“I am not sure I am what you really need.”

It was the last thing you expected to hear.

But it was the only explanation he ever gave you.

That's what started it, why you just started running away from him. 

—

“You thought it wouldn’t work?” you glare at him now, eye burning. “What the hell does that even mean?”

Sunghoon pressed his lips together, like he regretted saying it. But it’s too late.

“You didn’t even give us a chance,” you continue, voice rising. “You just decided that it wasn’t going to work out for the both of us.” 

“I wasn’t sure if I was what you really needed.”

Your breath catches. “Sunghoon—”

“You’re always surrounded by people. You make friends so easily. I wasn’t like that, I am not like that.” His voice is quiet now. “I feel like I was always holding you back.”

You shake your head, feeling something sharp and painful twist in your chest. “That’s what you thought?” You let out another bitter laugh. “You know, I thought that’s what brought us together. That we were so different. That worked because of that.”

Sunghoon looks at you then, something unreadable in his expression. 

“There were two people in our relationship, you and me. You made that decision that we don’t work well, for the both of us.” you say, voice shaking. “And now you think it’s going to work now just because you want it to?”

He doesn’t answer. 

And you hate how much that silence still hurts.

You exhale shakily, turning away. “I don’t trust you., Sunghoon.”

His jaw clenches. “I know.”

“And I don’t trust myself to let this happen again. Because if you could leave that easily once, what makes you think I believe you won’t do it again?”

This time, he doesn’t try to deny it. 

Because he knows.

Because he did leave. 

And you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forgive him for that. You hated yourself for never being able to hate him at all. 

The only sound in the tiny space is the faint buzz of the overhead light—

And the deafening weight of everything left unsaid. 

The supply closet is cold, but the tension in the air is suffocating. When the door finally swings open, neither of you move right away. Sunghoon steps back first, his jaw clenched, like he’s holding back something he’ll never say. You follow a second later, not looking at him as you walk away.

After that, things are different.

You don’t avoid him anymore. Not really. You still exchange emails about the project, still sit across from each other in the library, still in the same space without outright hostility. But the sharpness between you dulls— replaced by something softer, something sadder. 

One night, long after the library should’ve closed, you look up from your notes to see Sunghoon staring at you. He doesn’t look away this time. Neither do you. For a moment, the world stills. 

Then you blink, and the moment is gone.

—

The project ends.

So does your reason to stay in each other’s orbits.

You expect things to go back to normal, whether normal is supposed to be. You expect distance to creep back in, the silence to settle. 

But somehow, Sunghoon lingers. 

He doesn’t force conversation, doesn’t push. But you catch him in the corners of your vision— watching, waiting, hesitation. As if he’s waiting for you to decide what happens next.

—

Then one evening, you run into him.

It’s late. The air is cold, thick with the scent of winter. Sunghoon is standing outside the campus gates, hands shoved into his pockets, the street lights casting long shadows around him. He notices you before you can turn away.

“Hey,” he says, voice quiet.

You hesitate. Then, “Hey.”

There’s so much unsaid between you, so much left unfinished. 

A part of you wonders— is this it? The last conversation before you both fade from each other’s lives completely?

Sunghoon opens his mouth, like he wants to say something more, but you shake your head, stopping him. 

“It’s okay.” you say. “You don’t have to.”

His throat bobs as he swallows. He nods.

The streetlamps flicker above you. A car passes, its headlights flashing between you like a border, a final dividing line. 

You should say something else. You should tell him you’ll see him around, that you’ll stay in touch, that you’ll find your way back to him someday.

But you don’t.

Instead you step back, offering a small, almost imperceptible smile.

“Take care, okay?”

For a second, you think he won’t respond. But then, finally— softly— he nods.

“You too.”

You turn around first. You don’t look back.

Sunghoon watches you walk away, his hands still in his pockets, his lips parts like he wants to stop you— but he never does.

The night swallows the both of you whole.

And just like that, it’s over. 

—

The city hums in silence in the distance, but here, on the rooftop, it’s quiet/ the two of you sit side by side, legs dangling over the edge, the skyline stretching endlessly before you. The night is warm, the stars barely visible through the glow of streetlights. 

“You’re gonna fall,” Sunghoon murmurs, eyeing the way you lean forwards slightly, hands bracing against the ledge. 

You grin, tilting your head towards him. “You’d catch me.”

He doesn’t answer, but the corner of his mouth twitches, like he wants to smile but won’t let himself.

A soft breeze ruffles his hair. You reach out before you can stop yourself, fingers brushing through the strand, smoothing them down. Sunghoon stills at the touch, but he doesn’t pull away. 

“You do that a lot,” he says after a moment.

“What?” 

“Touch my hair.”

You blink, your hand dropping back to your lap. “Does it bother you?”

He exhales, looking away, down at the glittering streets below. “No.”

That’s all he says. But in the way his fingers clench slightly against his knee, in the way his shoulders stay tense even as the night air cools his skin— you realize something.

Sunghoon likes it.

He likes being close to you.

The thought makes your chest feel warm, something soft and fluttering settling behind your ribs. You don’t say anything about it, don’t tease or push. Instead, you lean back on your palms staring up at the sky. 

“Feels like we could stay here forever,” you murmur.

Sunghoon glances at you, his expression unreadable.

Then, so quietly you almost don’t hear it—

“Yeah.” 

-

author's note: basically everything in here thats inpso from irl with my actaully ex. the water bottle incident but it was in a classroom. us actually having fucking class with each other the next semester. me running away constantly every time i see him now. me buying him a pencil as a present and him still using it (i really want to steal it back). him asking me if i hate him cuz i keep running away and even dragged a friend as i run away from him. him saying "i dont think it's going to work out" and thinking becuase im very outgoing and him being a big introvert was something that would lead to us breaking up, haha but it was just him and him not communicating with me about his feelings. el oh el.

[neeeooon]

Hey neo!Literally ran to ur requests as I found out!I wanted to ask specifically if u can do a fif for nagi or Rin or both about them having a girlbest friend they absolutely adore!!!💕

i swear i read reo and got like two paragraphs in before realizing im blinder than yuki 🙃 hope you enjoy!

a goth, a slob, and a ray of sunshine

nagi seishiro & fem!reader, itoshi rin & fem!reader. platonic, crack, fluff. reader is nagi and rin’s best friend but nagi and rin are constantly competing for her affection

“i’m taking y/n to watch the minecraft movie in theaters tonight.”

“think again. you took her to wendy’s last night. it’s my turn to hang out with her.”

your head flicked from nagi to rin as they went back and forth, arguing about your schedule as you stood there with a smile. “why don’t we all go to the movies together?” you suggested, drawing their attention.

neither looked happy to have to share you, their best friend, but they also hated seeing you upset. nagi was the first to speak after shrugging. “‘m not paying for his ticket.”

“i didn’t ask you to,” rin snapped back with a glare. you stepped forward and took one of their hands in each of your own. “tonight will be fun!”

you should have known better than to force your two best friends to sit through a nearly two hour film peacefully, but you managed to keep your eye from twitching as rin and nagi pulled your arms like you were a tug-of-war rope.

the theater was great at distracting you from your friends, as it was full of lively movie-goers, but even they couldn’t save you fully.

“y/n,” rin whispered into your ear. “do you want any snacks?”

you smiled at him and shook your head. a moment later, there was a tap on your other shoulder, and you turned to see nagi staring at you before leaning it. “thirsty?”

shaking your head again, you fell back against your seat. big mistake, as in doing so, your head stopped acting as a block between nagi and rin. they glared at each other, and you sighed when neither refused to get comfortable.

thankfully, the movie came to a quick end. you jumped up on your own, ignoring both boys when they offered you their hands, and left the theater without the normal skip in your step.

“slow down,” rin called from behind you, quickly followed by nagi’s “‘m tired.”

you waited until you were outside of the building before spinning around to face them, your smile back but tight. “yes?”

rin blinked. then he shuffled uncomfortable and tugged at his sleeve, avoiding your eyes. “i’m sorry.”

both you and nagi stared at him, your lips parted in shock as nagi rolled his eyes.

“it’s okay,” you replied, mouth twisting into a real smile as rin tried his best to mimic the look. nagi practically waddled forward and let his head fall against your shoulder. “‘m sorry, too.”

you chuckled when his words tickled your neck and playfully ruffled his white hair. “it’s okay, too. i appreciate you both for joining me. maybe next time we’ll have more fun!”

nagi and rin internally cooed at your adorable excitement. nagi lifted his head from your shoulder just enough to shoot a silent glare at rin, who quickly returned the look.

“one day, maybe the three of us will be best friends!” you exclaimed.

“never.”

“not on his life.”

you expected that. instead of letting it put a damper on the rest of your evening, you reached both hands out—one for rin and one for nagi. neither hesitated long before accepting, and you swung their hands in yours as the three of you finally left the theater.

[chuthulhu-plays]

I generally watch LPs of horror games bc I'm too anxious to actually play them but a lot of them have FANTASTIC stories, so sometimes I just binge-watch KrinxTV for background noise. Been watching a lot of playthroughs of Still Wakes The Deep because it's such a delight to hear Scottish voice actors get work and I thought I'd address some questions I keep seeing Let's Players ask:

--Adair is a member of the National Front as you can find out from posters in his cabin, a Neo-Fascist British political party that’s been going since the sixties. While it often preaches British ethnic unity, in practice that often means “everybody in the UK should be exactly like East End Londerners” and features plentiful disdain for Scottish, Irish, and Welsh folk, alongside those perceived as “not British”. No wonder the wanker eats alone in the canteen.

--Neeps and Tatties=turnips and potatoes, mashed, drenched in butter or sauce. Fills your belly, keeps you warm, probably makes you sink like a stone because it’s so heavy.

--Cranachan=a dessert made of raspberries, honey, cream and oats, absolutely delicious

--Rennick calls Caz a “wee ned prick”. Ned is apocryphally said to stand for “non-educated delinquent” and is basically just a way of calling someone an uneducated, lower-class criminal

--A lot of things said by and about Roy indicate that he’s a teetotaller who went through AA and specifically became Catholic and is making an effort at converting Caz.

--I think it’s entertaining how Scottish nicknames often follow a pattern of shortening/rejiggering that I also see a lot with Australian nicknames—Cameron becomes Caz, Rafferty becomes Raffs, etc. Trots is an unusual one but is almost certainly a reference to him being a communist, presumably a Trotskyist. Gibbo is also an unusual one in that it’s just very silly. There’s a kind of indignity implied in being killed by a guy called Gibbo.

--A few times on the radio you hear the Shipping Forecast, a type of weather report aimed at specifically reporting weather conditions out on the ocean, and is also famous for the report being read in such a calm, soothing tone that some folk use it as a sleep aid.

--All the yellow paint for interactable things is very video gamey, yes, but is also in line with old British health and safety standards, and yellow paint on things like emergency ladders or on the edges of stairs that are trip hazards is a thing ou can still see in some older buildings.

--Caz keeps saying he’s “good with the leccy”; leccy=electricity. Caz is implied to be quite a wee guy who can get through a lot of tight spaces, and my uncle swears blind that electricians used to refuse to take on apprentices over a certain size because they only wanted to train wee guys who could get up into the tight spaces that a lot of older buildings are full of. On that note, “wee man” is a term of endearment, generally, and isn’t exclusively applied to short guys.

--Finlay saying of Gibbo that “he’s no right” is INCREDIBLY OMINOUS. It sounds mild but “he’s no right, that boy” is what older folk say about a child who’s been found disembowelling cats for fun or someone they strongly suspect is a pedophile. It’s not something you’d say about a friend who’s just acting a bit unusually.

– “Great minds united over a Buckie”--Buckfast, or Buckie, is a caffienated tonic wine that’s cheap, widely accessible, and is a bit like rocket fuel for bad decisions.

– “Ya roaster” tbh I don’t really know where it comes from, calling someone a roaster, but I’ve always felt like it has a vibe of telling them they’re huffing their own farts.

--Scunnert/scunnered--buggered, screwed, utterly fucked, etc

– “You’re the jammiest bastart on this rig” Someone who is jammy is someone who has incredible luck that is implied to be related to their sheer confidence or willingness to engage in risky behaviour. Walking along the street and finding a pound coin isn’t jammy; crossing the road confident that the cars won’t hit you and stopping in the middle to pick up a pound coin before making it unscathed to the other side is jammy as all hell.

--Barlinnie is the biggest prison in Scotland, and largely hosts violent offenders—it’s where Caz would definitely go for hospitalizing a man.

--Weans are children (contraction of wee yins/wee ones). I thought this one was contextually obvious but apparently not.

SPOILERS BELOW

--”One spark and the whole thing’ll go up”—this is referring to the wee spark of flame in the lighter used to blow up the rig, but is also kind of a pun because electricians are often called sparks or sparkies, and in the end it’s Caz who blows up the rig.

[honeyhonest]

Trein and Vargas fucker here.

Ok, I'm also the one from the ghost nsfw fanfic (still in progress) and I've sent a lot of Crowley and Fellow asks. Considering the amount of stuff I've sent you I guess I'll sign my asks now.

Anyway, I have one request for now.

So, if reader was mad at Crowley to the point that they ignores him or locks themself in their room to avoid seeing him, what would he do to get their forgiveness back?

-Neo

YAYAYAYA HI TREIN ANON! I liked writing this I love this silly fuck

warnings: afab reader, barely any nsfw but there's cunnilingus right at the end

Does the punishment fit the crime? That is to say, what did he do now? Knowing the old crow, it was probably something annoying and insensitive (ignore your requests for more ramshackle repairs? avoid you all week? dump a new problem on you to fix? all three?) and deserved. Nonetheless, the moment he figures out that something is amiss, he's wounded. "What did I do wrong???" he whines, standing outside your door and knocking for hours (he at least has the decency not to pick the lock, or magic himself in) but it gets to the point where even Grim is begging you to open the door and put him out of his misery. The next day, you walk right past him on campus, and he looks so sad that even the self-absorbed students stop and stare at the pathetic display. A disgruntled Crewel comes to his office that afternoon with a message from you, which only worsens things (how humiliating is it that he must speak with you through Crewel? who, to make matters worse, takes your side!) and it's only about the dorm He goes through the five stages of grief outside your door Denial: "You're not really mad, you're only having a long week!" Anger: "I am your Headmage and you will answer me at once!" Bargaining: "Please... Prefect, if you answer me, I'll get you anything you want! I'll repair the leak in the attic, I'll personally tutor you, I'll get Grim all the tuna his little direbeast stomach could hold!" Depression: "You are killing me, did you know that?" Acceptance: "Very well... I'll be back tomorrow, my dear," By day three, he's made it everyone's problem. He won't do any work. He calls a staff meeting and then bursts into wails when Crewel asks if he's apologized to you yet. He calls an assembly and just talks nonsense for almost two hours. Leona actually considers just killing him to put him out of his misery Finally, when he can't take it anymore (it's been three and a half days) he says sorry for every single thing he's ever done to you. Putting you in Ramshackle, making you deal with the students, not looking for your home as much as he really should be, every single overblot and accident, each scratch that could have been caused by him, and- Grim throws open the door and tells both of you to just SHUT UP ABOUT EACH OTHER ALREADY! Whatever sick marital issues you're having, he doesn't want to hear another WORD OF IT! Crowley doesn't leave your side for days. Fussing over you, complimenting you, offering to do everything for you. It doesn't last forever, but at least he's. trying...? He insists on eating you out every night, which is something he doesn't often do (it's hard with the mask), and he's not half-bad at it, either (better than he is at sex, though that's not a high bar). That mouth can do more than talk about stupid shit is all I'm saying. He gets really into it, talons digging into your thighs, face truly buried between them, the beak of his mask pressing into your stomach, pushed up ever so slightly from the angle of it all... He humbly refuses to let you touch him, saying that pleasing you is enough... and then twenty minutes later he gives up the noble facade and asks to cum inside because he's hard and it huuurts </3

[leejenowrld]

ghostin' (one)

pairing na jaemin x y/n (fem)

word count 14.4k

genre smut, fluff, angst, situationship vibes, college au

synopsis after being brutally dumped by your ex hyunjin, you’re living a broken life, lost in the consumption of getting high and heartbreak. then you meet na jaemin, a one-night stand transforms into a bond. he becomes the catalyst for your healing. but can you genuinely break free from the attachment to your toxic ex? between newfound connection and lingering attachments, will you move on or hold on?

one | two | three | four

chapter warnings very broken, fragile, weak, intoxicated mc (not so much in the 1st chapter just wait lmao) cute friendship moments, girl moments, appearances from other '00 liners, explicit language, swearing, mention of drugs, smoking and alcohol, getting high, under the influence, unprotected sex, breeding kink, oral (f receiving) overuse of ‘baby,’ ass slapping, daddy kink, size kink and training, dirty talk, big cock jaemin, soft dom jaemin, groping, fingering, nipple sucking, a moment (the girls playing matchmaker) which teases all the other fics in the series which you can see about here, introverted, chill, emotionally intelligent, laid back, mysterious jaemin, jaemin with a darker side, a very sexy jaemin, black haired jaemin, jaemin who has no flaws

author note haerin is the protagonist (y/n) in my one shot mfal, which can be read here. she’s a side character in this so i wanted to give her a name so avoid confusion for myself lmao. but you can still imagine haerin as mfal!y/n. also there’s a lot of jeno and haerin in this chapter, a lot of friend moments, girl moments, jaemin only makes an appearance at the end. please stay patient and trust me!! the wait is worth it. he comes in at the perfect time :) i wanted to make this more friendship group based and explore the side characters compared to mfal, so :))) enjoy. also hana is heejin now from mfal! i changed her name, sorry about my bad planning, this is the second story that i’ve ever written (mfal my first) so i’m still learning and making mistakes. hana is an og so i didn’t wanna give her a popular idols name!! still need to change her name in mfal lol

part of neo heartbreaker series, same universe as mfal but can be read as a standalone. comment to be added to the tag list for future parts!! this is a 4 part series

“i know that it breaks your heart when i cry again, over him, i know that it breaks your heart when i cry again, instead of ghostin’ him”

playlist ariana grande ghostin, prettymuch phases, ghosting txt,

♥♥♥♥

“Jeno told me to show you this.”

You point your phone in Haerin’s face, eyes closed as she grips the device in her hands, mouth watering as she lets out a sigh, fighting her urges but she gives in, whining about Jeno’s ‘monster cock’ and how much she loved and missed it, how she wanted to fuck herself dumb with it… something like that. You chose to drown her words out. Hana let’s out a sound of realisation from beside you, understanding why your eyes were closed. It’s because you didn’t want to see Jeno’s cock.

“Why is he sending you that photo?” Hana asks, eyes puzzled.

“It’s because Haerin is ignoring all his texts and calls so he told me he’d make me my favourite dinner for a week if I shoved the photo of his cock in her face.” You explain, Hana giving you a knowing nod. Who would refuse that offer? Lee Jeno belonged on master chef.

“Well you can tell him he can shove his cock in his own mouth.” Haerin shakes her head furiously, words high pitched and spoken with anger. She sneaks a final glance and lets out one last whimper before handing you your phone back.

You nod, fingers typing away.

you - she basically said fuck you and that you can shove your own cock in your own mouth

jeno - bet my baby was moaning at the photo though. i know what she’s like

jeno - needy slut tries to act like she doesn’t want me when she’s mad at me

jeno - when she wants me even more

you - seems like something you should text her!

jeno - bitch that’s the point she’s ignoring me

“I'm gonna kill Jeno." You look up from your phone, your gaze shifting to Hana as you share amused glances, spotting a very annoyed and pissed-off Haerin sitting opposite you both in the canteen. It's been a long day of back-to-back lectures, and Haerin has been frustrated throughout them all. Uncharacteristically, she hasn't been paying attention in class, even though she's easily the top student and smarter than every single one of her peers.

She swirls her noodles around with her chopsticks, more focused on her irritation than her meal. "Why did he leave so early this morning?" You question.

"You tell me." Haerin exclaims, her voice raising a few octaves as she shakes her head in frustration.

"Wait, why are you pissed off at him again?" Hana asks in confusion.

"It's Jeno."

“Yeah I know, I asked why –”

"He was about to go down on me, but then he got an 'important' phone call, said sorry and left." Haerin explains with a huff. "I say 'about,' but he was already inside of me! He had just put his cock into me and then left before he started fucking me!!!!" Anger seeps through Haerin as she recalls the incident.

You and Heejin share a look, raising your eyebrows and holding back a laugh. Haerin and her boyfriend, Jeno, have a lot of sex. They're intimate every day, and he practically lives with you three girls. You admire the fact that they're deeply in love, evident to everyone around (and sometimes heard), but you're also put off by how frequently they engage in sexual activities. You and your roommate Heejin have become too accustomed to walking into any room in the house and seeing Haerin getting her back blown out.

“I need him so fucking bad that I’m genuinely kill the next person I see if they’re not him. I’m so fucking stressed right now and getting my back blown out by him is the only solution. I just need him to slap my pussy and my ass and spit in my mouth. I need him to choke me and I need his cum in my mouth or in me!!! Fuck I need his babies. I just need his cock shoved down my throat, I need him to wipe the drool from my cheeks after I’ve sucked him off, I need him to fuck my throat, I need him to tie my hair up for me and move the strands that get stuck in his mouth when I’m sucking his cock.”

Hana lets out a loud laugh at how the chatter on the tables surrounding the three of you had silenced completely, obviously in reaction to Haerin’s loud and incredibly sexual words. She usually had no filter when it came to the desires she shared with her boyfriend.

Haerin cries out, scrolling through photos on her camera roll and you wish you wouldn’t have glanced her way but you’re pretty sure you see Jeno’s cock grace her phone screen, (you also wish you didn’t know what it looked like.) Your eyes widen in shock as she lets out the loudest and horniest moan you’ve ever heard, she wasn’t even trying to conceal it, clearly not caring about who hears. Her mouth waters at the photos she has of him saved on her phone.

Haerin continues complaining, staring down at her noodles with a scowl, gaze moving to her phone once again and rapidly scrolling through the photos. "We haven't had sex since like… last night!"

You huff, contemplating how Haerin, if in your shoes, would likely struggle. The memory of your last intimate encounter, five months ago, casts a shadow, and a momentary sadness clouds your features. Shaking off those feelings, you ignore Hana’s observant gaze – she notices everything. How is she so observant? You disregard the look she's giving you, hoping she won't give it any more attention.

A sigh of relief escapes when Haerin continues to complain, Hana’s attention shifting.

"I'm going crazy.” Haerin breathes heavily, her eyes widening. "I keep crossing my legs, but nothing feels like him."

Her voice and expression turn darker. "I wanted to cut his dick off, especially when he kissed me and said he'd make it up to me."

Your eyebrows raise. "That's quite sweet, though?" You've seen the way Jeno kisses Haerin. If you were ever kissed like that, you'd melt. You'd complain about nothing. The heavy feeling overtakes your heart once more when you remember that once upon a time, you were kissed like that.

"Isn't this the third time this week it's happened?" Hana questions.

Haerin nods immediately. "He keeps saying sorry, telling me he can't tell me where he goes off to, but I know where he's going and who he's seeing. He doesn't need to tell me to know."

"And I know you guys already have an idea. If you think about it, it's not difficult to figure out."

The three of you say "Jaemin" unanimously.

"I swear you said that the only time he'll leave you mid-sex is for one reason... it's Jaemin.” Hana mumbles. Her attention is more focused on taking Haerin's chopsticks from her hand, swirling around her noodles, and then feeding her. Irritation almost overtakes her at the sight of Haerin staring down at a plate of empty food.

"Has he fallen off the face of the earth?" You question, thinking about the last time you saw him. You didn't know Jaemin that well. All you knew was that he was the best friend of your best friend's boyfriend, and he occasionally hung out with the group. But you don't think you've heard him mutter more than three words, ever. He was quiet and didn’t like speaking, there was nothing wrong with that, you was like that too..

When you don't get an answer, you return to reality and find a choking Haerin, obviously struggling to eat her noodles. Hana swiftly hits her back and offers water to ease the situation. Once the scene simmers down, Haerin, with a few chesty coughs, explains, "Jeno's not telling me everything because he has this sworn secrecy not to air out his best friend's personal life and problems to his girlfriend. But from the small things I've seen and heard around, I hear that Yeeun dumped him –"

"I heard that Yeeun cheated on him and he's literally on his death bed, depressed and getting high all the time," Hana whispers.

"I heard that she left the country and he tried to follow her." Haerin whispers back. The two of them go back and forth on rumors and speculations, which you observe, choosing not to get involved. Instead, you lean back and watch with a grin. You were never too interested in partaking in gossiping and bitching; it wasn't your thing, but you don't deny that hearing it was always good.

The gossiping comes to an end when they realize they're getting nowhere. You and Hana both turn to Haerin with a sigh. "Why can't you just ask Jeno? He obviously knows."

Lee Jeno, the one who harasses you with cock photos, Haerin's boyfriend, Jaemin's other half, they’ve been connected and attached since they were kids. The bestest of friends. Brothers. If Jeno isn't with Haerin, he's with Jaemin. It's a bromance that's heartwarming and sweet – two guys who are platonic soulmates. He obviously knows what's happened with Jaemin.

Haerin shakes her head. "He's not telling me. He's told me little bits, but he's being so vague. I've asked so many times."

"I even did my really cute 'no no' and puppy eyes smiling look, but he didn't budge. You know how I can make him do anything once I call him 'no no,' but it didn't work this time, so whatever happened is pretty serious."

You look at her astonished. "Why? I thought you told each other everything."

"Yeah, we do. If it's concerning him, he'll never keep it a secret from me. But he's told me it's unfair to air out his best friend's business like that. Jaemin's obviously told him the entire Yeeun situation with secrecy, and I'm sure he'll be hurt if Jeno just tells his girlfriend everything he trusted him with. It sucks to open up and become vulnerable only for everything you've said in trusted privacy to be shared."

You both still look confused. Doesn't having a boyfriend mean the 'don't tell anyone' rule doesn't apply to him?

Even though Haerin is admittedly annoyed at Jeno, she'll always defend him. "Look, I see where he's coming from. Something's happened with Jaemin, and it's clearly Yeeun. I'm worried for him, and obviously Jeno is. That's why Jeno is always going over to him, even when he’s about to put his dick inside of me." She rolls her eyes, accepting the fact that Jeno would drop anything for his best friend.

“Hey! You three come over right now!”

You and Hana turn around at Haerin's call, scanning the surroundings to spot Yangyang, Shotaro, and Xiaojun. The scared looks on their faces are evident even from a distance, a clear response to Haerin's tone and directness.

"We don't know anything." Yangyang quickly states as he takes a seat opposite you, anticipating Haerin's impending interrogation.

"You don't even know what Haerin's gonna ask you." Hana chuckles, playfully teasing the boys.

"I know we're about to get an interrogation.” Shotaro responds, the corners of his lips lifting as he grins sweetly at Hana, who ruffles his hair. Eric has now joined the table, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, and sits with you guys without a word. Come to think of it, that's what Eric was—someone who just appeared from nowhere.

You watch with a laugh as he leans his head toward Hana, silently pleading for her to do the same to him and ruffle his hair. However, she just shakes her head and focuses her attention on Shotaro. You smirk, well aware of Eric's crush on Hana, a fact not hidden from anyone at the table.

Turning to your side, you find Xiaojun taking a seat beside you, his knees knocking against yours. He offers a soft smile and a greeting, followed with a series of caring questions. "Are you okay? Have you eaten? Did you sleep well?" His genuine concern warms your heart.

"I did. I'm doing okay, Xiaojun, really." You reassure him, hoping he believes your words. You glance briefly at Hana, who gives you a knowing look and wiggles her eyebrows, hinting at something you try to downplay. You roll your eyes nonetheless, dropping your head to his shoulder, yawning and letting your eyes flutter shut but the loudness will make it impossible to nap.

Haerin cuts through the air, your attention shifting to her. "If you guys know where Jeno is and you're not telling me, then I'm seriously gonna cut and boil each and every one of your dicks. Starting with my boyfriend."

The threat hangs in the air, but Shotaro, ever charming, sweetly questions. "Shouldn't you know where your boyfriend is?" Shotaro asks sweetly, his dimples on full display. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he adjusted the beanie on his head, the thick layer of sleepiness evident in his voice. His charming smile and undeniable cuteness make you coo, prompting you to pinch his cheeks gently. Confusion flickers in his eyes as he wonders why everyone always showers him with affection when he feels he hasn't done much. However, the collective looks of endearment directed at him from all corners of the table convey the unspoken truth—he's effortlessly lovable, no effort required.

"We all fucking know where he is. He's with Jaemin, and he has been with him ever since Yeeun did her shit and fucked him over like the heartless and selfish bitch that — anyways — Why the fuck are you acting like you don’t know where Jeno is, Haerin, don’t you guys tell each other everything?” Yangyang asserts, frustration evident in your words.

Hana’s eyes light up. "You boys know! You know what's happened with Jaemin."

"Yes, we do, and we're not telling you. It's no one's business. Plus, you guys clearly already know; Jeno told Haerin, which means she told you.” Yangyang responds.

"Jeno hasn't told me!!!! Oh my god, how many times do I need to tell you guys?" Haerin exclaims, her voice raising and whining due to reaching full frustration.

"I'd be kinda worried if I was in a relationship and he didn't tell me everything—"

Haerin is a testament to defending her boyfriend even when she wants to cut his dick off. “He tells me everything that I need to know, everything that concerns me and him. There's no secrets with that stuff. He just doesn't air out other people's business to me. My boyfriend is honest and fair. Plus, I'd never tell him anything personal about you guys. There have been so many times you guys have confided in me about something personal and private and promised me not to tell anyone, and I haven't. And I would never. Telling my boyfriend my close friends personal life isn't something I'd be proud about; it's disrespectful and crossing boundaries. We both have a mutual agreement to that. There are standards and expectations in our relationship."

Xiaojun nods, laughing out loud. “If you know why he's not telling you, then why are you bothering us and trying to get the information from us?"

"Because I'm not perfect and I'm a nosy bitch, okay? Happy???? Plus, if I heard it from you guys rather than Jeno than he’d have nothing to feel guilty about and it would satisfy my craving to know everyone’s shit.” Haerin exclaims dramatically, truthfully revealing her nosy intentions. Suddenly, she groans and loudly slams her head on the table, shedding real tears when she realizes one of her nails from her set has broken off.

♥♥♥♥

Later that night, the comfort of your own house embraces you after a long day of classes. You and the girls gather on the sofa, indulging in your favorite rom-coms, creating an overall cozy evening.

Haerin, as usual, is talking about Jeno. You can't find it in you to get annoyed; she loves him, and sharing her happiness is second nature. She excitedly recounts the details of one of the many expensive getaways he took her on.

"We went skinny dipping," she begins, "He fucked me in every corner of the cabin we were staying in. The kitchen, the lake, on a blanket outside by the lake, against the wall of our room – we actually broke the bed and had to pay extra for it."

"Oh, and we did it in the bathroom and the shower a lot. I remember he was balls deep inside of me, he had made me cum for the sixth time in a row, and we were both close to falling down and fainting. He was fucking my cum back into me then he told me he wanted to marry me be the father to my children. We didn’t use protection for that entire day and he kept trying to fuck a baby into me. Thank God I didn’t get pregnant. He was quite high at that time and although I wasn’t, I was on my 6th orgasm. We were literally ready to be parents at that time… that’s what good sex does to you.”

You and Hana widen your eyes at Haerin. She always shares stories about their very intense and loving sex life, sometimes she even shows you videos and photos, you never look at them the same way after hearing it all – especially Jeno. He's a freak

“You guys are… on another level.” Hana laughs.

"You guys are the cutest." You smile for Haerin, masking the twinge of loneliness and heartache you feel. It's selfish, but seeing your best friend so happily loved up hurts, even if you're genuinely happy for her.

Haerin notices your silence and sends a sweet smile your way, patting your head and asking if you're okay. You can tell she feels a twinge of guilt, especially when she offers her way of making you feel happier.

"Let's get you with someone!" she claps her hands excitedly, trying to play matchmaker.

"Nooo," your hands make a crossing motion, but she won't listen. Once her mind is set on something, it's set.

"Yes!" Hana claps happily, and you huff when you realize you're outnumbered.

Haerin starts listing potential bachelors. "First of all, there's Donghyuck – hot and he knows it. A bit of a lost cause, but he's fearless and obviously good in bed! You're the opposite of him – more sensible and mindful, you can guide him in the right direction, like me and Jeno!"

You shake your head at that idea immediately. "He's high 95% of the time. He isn't serious. Plus, I heard he's got his eyes on that girl. What's her name again? She's the older sister of Jieun, used to be popular but now she’s the typical rebel. She's kinda rude.”

Hana offers her batch of men. "Okay, then... Yangyang! He's cute, he's –"

"He's gay," You laugh as you watch her realise it. “He’s gay and I don’t know if he knows it yet.”

Haerin's eyes light up when she thinks she's found the man. "Mark's cute! Smart, nerdy, apparently has a big cock and is really good in bed. Plus, he's sweet, emotionally mature, and just recently broke up with his girlfriend –"

"He's in love with his best friend.” You mutter. Mark and his best friend have been attached to the hip since birth, and they're also in love. They're both just oblivious idiots, but somehow everyone around them knows.

“There’s Xiaojun, he’s boyfriend material and he definitely wants to fuck you.” Hana nods to you, rolling her eyes when you shake your head at her amazing idea.

“He’s sweet but he’s such a fuckboy… he wants to fuck everyone.” You respond, truly not wanting to get involved with a player. You stray far away. He was one of your closest friends and you did trust him with your life but that was emotionally. You knew his sexual side was another side to him that you quite simply didn’t want to get involved with. It was unexpected how much he rolled around in the sheets. Plus, he was one of your best friends!

Hana scratches her neck and whispers to Haerin, "This is hard."

Haerin grits her teeth in pure frustration. "There are so many guys at ‘Neo Culture Technology’ but at the same time, they're all either gross or unavailable."

"Who's left?" Heejin questions.

"There's Shotaro – but apparently, he's got a thing for that really hot Wonbin guy. There's Eric – but he's in love with Hana. There's Sunwoo – but he's in love with me. And I can't think of anyone else. There's Jeno, but if you touch him, I'll kill you," Haerin starts giving the rebuttals herself.

"Eric is not in love with me.” Hana tuts, shaking her head in denial.

“Yeah and Jeno’s not in love with me.” Haerin rolls her eyes dramatically, speaking in a sarcastic tone, trying to emphasise how naive and oblivious Hana was.

"Also, Sunwoo's stopped trying to chase after you. Jeno scared him away forever." Hana laughs, but you widen your eyes in slight fear, remembering the night when Jeno put an end to Sunwoo's dreams of having Haerin permanently.

Haerin however dreamily closes her eyes at the memory. "My man."

"Wait, there is someone else. Jeno gave me this idea, and I didn't get it then, but I do now. It's Jae –"

Speaking of the devil, the atmosphere shifts as Jeno casually strolls in, exuding a magnetic presence. His confident gait and tousled hair give him an effortlessly cool appearance. His eyes, a warm and inviting shade, immediately soften as he reaches Haerin.

Greeting everyone with a charming smile, he seamlessly moves toward Haerin. The room becomes a canvas of love as he leans in to kiss her softly. Arms looped around each other, they share endearing whispers, lost to the outside world.

A bittersweet feeling washes over you as you witness their intimacy. Yet, the mood takes an unexpected turn as Haerin gasps, extricating herself from Jeno's embrace, adopting a dramatic stance.

"I'm supposed to be mad at you! You dick!!!!! Leave me again during sex and see what happens. You will have no dick." Haerin warns, forcefully putting on a pissed off voice and expression. You know this was her acting and being dramatic, She found it easier to melt into his arms rather than hold a grudge against him, you understood it. I mean, have you looked at Jeno?

You and Hana share an amused expression as the scene unfolds. Jeno's playful silence only serves to annoy Haerin more. She huffs at his smirking demeanor, her words stumbling initially but gaining clarity. "Can you tell this man that he can sleep outside tonight?" Her arms crossed, a satisfied smile playing on her lips as she faces you.

Nodding, you face Jeno. "Haerin said that you're not allowed to sleep with her tonight."

Jeno tuts, responding with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Can you tell Haerin that if that happens, then she'll come to me in the middle of the night and beg to ride my –"

Haerin cuts him off, shaking her head and narrowing her eyes. "Can you ask him why he's in my house?"

“Haerin asked why are you –”

“Y/N, shut up.” Jeno says seriously, warning you not to speak.

“Hae, I’m in your house because you gave me a key for our anniversary." He explains, his eyes soft as he reaches for Haerin's hand, attempting to make her melt into him but he widens his mouth when she doesn’t take his hand like he expected her to.

"Baby." He whispers, his voice a soft and tender melody, likely to make her heart flutter. Despite the softness in his tone, she remains resolute, dodging his attempts to kiss her.

"Why are you mad?" He questions, shaking his head in confusion. Haerin persists with the silent treatment, prompting him to turn to you and Hana with a light-hearted chuckle.

"It's because she wanted you to shove your dick in her throat, but you left." You inform him with a nonchalant tone.

Jeno, with a determined look, works his magic on her. He gently takes Haerin's hand, and this time, she doesn't pull away. His smile, radiant and affectionate, speaks volumes, a sight capable of soothing any emotional ache. His eyes, dreamy and captivating, have the power to make anyone melt.

His voice drops to a low whisper as he utters sweet promises into her ear. "I'll make it up to you, all night long.” He vows, kissing the sides of her cheeks. A low moan escapes Haerin's lips, catching you by surprise. Was she that horny?

You and Hana turn to each other with wide eyes when you hear intense smooching noises and passionate sighs and moans. You take that as your cue to leave.

You walk back in 2 hours later, and they’re still making love on the sofa. You turn to Hana with a playful smirk, congratulating yourself internally when she pays up. You bet that it would take Haerin less than a day to let go of her grudge, and it did.

“I didn’t think she’d give in so easily.” Hana sighs, defeated, giving you the money with a frown.

“She always does with him.” You respond.

“I would too.” Hana smiles. The two of you turn to each other with a playful smirk. “I mean, have you seen the way he manhandles her? Have you seen his cock?”

“Unfortunately.” You mumble.

“It wasn’t unfortunate for me.” Hana bites her lips and sighs dreamily.

♥♥♥♥

The morning air is filled with the tantalizing aroma of Jeno's pancakes, a comforting scent that wafts through the entire house. Sighing in relief, you're grateful that it's Jeno preparing breakfast, saving you from the potential culinary disasters that Haerin or Hana might unleash.

The lively chatter in the kitchen reaches your ears before you step in. "I will put the two of you on a sex ban!" Hana warns, yawning as she has another night of insomnia to add to her list.

Chuckling, you enter unnoticed, preferring to remain a subtle presence in the background. You stroll in with a laugh, savoring the fact that they're oblivious to your entrance. Being the subtle presence in the background suits you well – there’s no need to draw attention to yourself; it's just the way you like it.

Jeno, however, breaks the pattern and spots you immediately. You smile when you see Haerin attached to his back, arms around him as he cooks up.

He turns around, flashing a grin and offering a nod. "Good morning, princess. Finally got up?" His tone drips with playful mockery for no apparent reason.

You respond casually, "I've actually been up all night, thanks to two particular people rolling around in the sheets."

“It was actually against the wall, on the floor, in the shower, in my car, on the sofa, on her chair and against her desk. I had her arched against the kitchen countertop too. We did it in the bed the least.” Jeno sighs, nonchalantly reminiscing about his night of passion with his girl, leaning down and kissing her on the head, slapping her ass and keeping his hands there, squeezing every now and then.

“Fucking hell. All that in one night?” Hana questions, wondering how that’s even possible.

“As if that’s the most they’ve done.” You laugh.

Haerin passionately complains, "You guys are complaining, but I didn’t get any sleep either! He had to carry me downstairs and I can barely feel my thighs, I don’t know how I’m standing up right now. I’ve woken up with a hundred bruises on my body because of this man–

"Babe." Jeno swiftly interrupts, shaking his head at how it sounds.

"We get it. He's a rough lover.” Hana responds, pleading with her hands and begging Haerin not to share more of her intimate stories with him.

Jeno prods his tongue against his cheek. "Loving and passionate is how I like to say it.” He corrects Hana with an affectionate smile.

You smile at the heartwarming scene unfolding before you. In moments like this, the pain in your heart doesn’t attack you so brutally. Jeno’s in the kitchen, whipping up breakfast for everyone, and, as per usual, Haerin is attached by his side.

Meanwhile, Hana and Jeno engage in a playful bicker about the correct way to make pancakes (though you’d never admit it to Hana, you secretly prefer Jeno’s pancakes by far). Jeno then presents you with a plate stacked high with beautiful pancakes, adorned with your favorite syrups and fruits.

“Just the way you like it.” He says, and your mouth waters at the enticing sight.

“You better finish every last bite or else.” Jeno playfully warns, adopting a protective brotherly tone. It’s a side of him that has emerged over time. He was there when Hyunjin dumped you, he saw the state you was in, he saw how detrimental your health became, how you were neglecting meals. He witnessed he toll it took on your well-being. His increased care and protection over you hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Now, you’re surrounded by people who genuinely care about you, you’ve come a long way from those difficult days. Despite the strides you've made, the battle persists. The grip of your drinking habits remains firm, and solitary hours in the dark persist. Yet, amidst the struggle, there's a genuine improvement. You compel yourself to believe in the progress, even though the vulnerability still lingers. The fear persists; one trigger, one misstep, and the possibility of crumbling back to the depths looms.

They flash warm smiles your way while you savor your meal. Surprisingly, they haven't even started on their own food.

"You're all weird." you quip, narrowing your eyes as you playfully lock gazes with them, your cold expression meeting their endearing ones.

♥♥♥♥

Jeno is casually perched on the countertop, methodically dipping his sushi into a pool of spicy mayo before guiding the chopsticks to his lips. The furrow of his brow reveals his deep focus on the phone in his hand, typing away with practiced ease. Just as he's about to indulge in a bite, he abruptly halts, raising an eyebrow as his gaze shifts to you three girls.

The widening of his eyes is evident as you initiate a circling formation, you’re a trio of inquisitive troublemakers, with a determination to unearth the mystery about Jaemin that he's hiding. Despite Jeno's clear reluctance to spill about Jaemin and his ex, you girls, fueled by curiosity, launch an attempt to pry the information loose. Hey, nobody's perfect. You’re all nosy!

A palpable sense of fear colors Jeno's demeanor as the three of you unite your efforts. Questions barrage him, but he remains resolute, shaking his head with a firm "no" and countering every inquiry with a blunt and direct response. "All of you, stop it. If I said I'm not telling you what happened, that means exactly that."

In the face of Jeno's unwavering stance, Haerin's frown deepens, and yet, Jeno's expression softens, he swiftly pulls her onto his lap with one arm and feeding her the sushi on his chopsticks, kissing her cheek softly. "Look, it's not my place to tell you personal things regarding Jae. It's not my story or my heartbreak. As much as I'd love to spill the tea about what a selfish and heartless bitch that Yeeun is—"

“Yeeun is so sweet, though.” You cut him off, a hint of disbelief in your voice as you register the language he’s using. His expression shifts abruptly, turning hard and cold almost instantly.

“You’d think.” He laughs, but the disdain in his face tells a different story. He despises her, a revelation that catches you off guard, considering she was his best friend’s girlfriend for the longest time.

Jang Yeeun, a girl in the year above, is a vision of beauty that triggers a twinge of envy within you. Whenever you catch sight of her on campus, it’s as if she belongs in a magazine. Her smile, breathtaking and radiant, could light up any room. Her blonde hair, so luminous and silky, seems to catch the sunlight in a way that leaves you in awe. It’s no wonder she’s popular – sweet and undeniably attractive. She’s always smiling and she radiates such a brightness.

Jeno's annoyance intensifies, a scowl etching across his face. His cheeks flush with frustration, and his eyes darken with a mixture of irritation and discomfort. The tension is palpable as he digs his nails into his palm, a physical manifestation of his inward turmoil.

Observing Jeno's visible agitation, Haerin, perceptive and caring, notices the telltale signs. She reaches out, gently rubbing his cheek with her thumb, and in a gesture filled with intimacy, she plants a soft kiss on his lips. Concerned, she mumbles. “You okay, my love?”

He responds with a whispered assurance that he's fine, urging her not to worry. His lips find their way to her forehead in a tender kiss, a silent expression of gratitude for her understanding. “I love you.” He whispers against her forehead.

"I just don't wanna talk about Yeeun.” He mutters, the words escaping in a low murmur that carries the weight of unspoken emotions. The intimacy of the moment contrasts with the underlying frustration, creating a complex interplay of feelings within the scene.

Jeno, quick to change the subject, does anything to help the anger in his heart pass. "Anyways, you three are invited to my party. I'm throwing it for Jaemin."

Immediate reactions unveil the distinct personality differences among you and your friends. Hana nods enthusiastically, fully on board with the party vibe – much like Jeno, she loves getting high and wasted, finding joy in nights where memories are non-existent.

Haerin, on the other hand, frowns, turning to face her boyfriend and shaking her head. "Another party?" She questions, her preference leaning towards cozy movie nights, cuddling Jeno, and ordering takeaway. The contrast between her and Jeno is striking, making you ponder how these opposites found each other.

Your reaction remains impartial, but confusion is quick to find a voice. "Huh?" You question, expressing your bewilderment at his idea. "Isn’t he currently heartbroken and struggling to get through each day? You think a party is the solution?" Your words hang in the air, a reflection of your practical and contemplative nature compared to the contrasting preferences of your friends.

"Shut up.” Jeno shoots his eyes in your direction, a clear signal for your voice to be silenced.

Haerin’s eyes widen and she sucks in a breath. Seriously? She’s turned on right now?

"My man needs some pussy.” The crude statement hangs in the air, and you huff as you realize the reasoning for the party. Of course, people always hook up at Jeno's parties, and it gives him immense pride – he loves being the matchmaker and now he wants his best friend to have rebound sex.

"That's really not—" You begin, only to be shushed by Jeno.

"You're throwing the party for that?" You inquire, a mix of disbelief and amusement coloring your voice. “Can’t you just set him on a blind date or something?”

"Yeah.” Jeno responds simply, a sly smirk playing on his face as he crosses his arms defensively. His eyes light up with humour as he senses your scepticism. He laughs. “Jaemin and blind date? Do you even know him? He’ll never show up to that shit.”

"He's gonna hate the party.” You laugh, anticipating Jaemin's reaction. “If he won’t turn up to a date then you think he’ll turn up to a party?”

Jeno, however, gets defensive, a sly smirk still playing on his face as he challenges you. "Suddenly, you know him better than me?" His voice carries an edge, a playful challenge.

When you don't respond, the tension deepens. "Oh, I get it." he continues, his tone implying that whatever he says next won't be pleasant. "You're jealous. You don't think there's any point in throwing him a party because you're here?"

The accusation hangs in the air as he pushes further, daring to ask, "You want him? You wanna fuck him?"

"Fuck off, Jeno." You assert, shaking your head in frustration at his relentless words. He was a pain in the ass.

He continues, pushing his blunt perspective. "It makes sense. Hyunjin dumped you, and then Yeeun tore Jaemin's heart out of his chest with her tacky and disgusting spider fingers and then stepped on it—anyways, you both need good rebound sex. It's better than moping around, crying in the sheets all day when you could be getting your bones jumped in the sheets."

You cut Jeno off, your voice raised in defensiveness. "You don't know what I need." You mutter, defensive goosebumps rising on your arms at the harsh yet uncomfortably true nature of his words.

He shrugs. "Just trying to help. Maybe you should fuck Jaemin; he's really good in bed."

"Maybe you should fuck off, Jeno." You retort, rolling your eyes at his audacity.

Haerin begins scolding Jeno for his behavior as if you weren't there. "Don't talk to her about him. She's still dealing with the heartbreak. How will she fuck Jaemin so easily if all she wants is Hyunjin?" Their words sting, leaving you feeling unsettled. Is this how your friends see you – as weak and fragile?

However, Jeno's honest words bring slight comfort. "He's a fucking idiot, and I want to talk about it. There's no point not talking about what happened, bottling it up and not communicating will just fuck everyone's heads even more. He's not some sacred God whose name shouldn't be spoken; he's the opposite, he's a fucking dickhead. If I see him again, I'll punch him like I did that one time when he was making out with that girl in front of you. He's a cunt, and I'll help you kill him."

"Thanks, Jen." You say, a genuine smile breaking through. Gratitude washes over you – at least someone gets it. He returns your gratitude with an understanding smile, providing a flicker of solace in the midst of emotional turmoil.

Jeno, the master of redirection, skillfully changes the subject. You sigh in relief when the conversation finally shifts away from your heartbreak. He turns to Haerin, locking eyes with hers. "You're coming to the party, and I don't want to hear no."

Haerin huffs, her face dropping – she's not a fan of parties, a sentiment she doesn't hesitate to show.

Without giving a direct response, Haerin's silence prompts Jeno to poke further. "If you don't come, then no sex for a week. He threatens, adding a playful edge to his attempt to convince her.

“You think you’re the one who proposes sex band in this relationship?” She questions, eyes a siren as her voice deepens. It was true, she had Jeno wrapped around her little finger.

"Why do you want me to come so bad?" She asks, curious about his motives.

"Because don't I deserve to get laid like Jae?" Jeno says with a smirk. "I'll only have fun if you're there." You can't help but roll your eyes at his cheeky remark, fully aware of his regular romantic encounters towards her.

You observe as Jeno leans in, whispering sweet words into Haerin's ear. Whatever he says seems to work like a charm. "Fineeee. I'll come but only for you," Haerin relents, a playful smile crossing her lips as she succumbs to Jeno's persuasive tactics.

You observe them closely, a genuine smile gracing your face as they share a sweet and joy-filled kiss. Their cute smiles and the affectionate atmosphere only contribute to the happiness you feel while witnessing the scene. “He’s probably gonna fill the tables with your favourite wine.” Hana playfully predicts.

Later that night, in a hushed tone, Jeno whispers to you, revisiting the topic from earlier, "You know I was joking around earlier, but I do really think it's a good idea if you move on and fuck Jaem."

"I don't want that or need it." You mumble in frustration. "Sex isn't the solution to every problem."

"Yeah, it is." Jeno interjects with a confident nod and a smirk.

You roll your eyes. "You're just obsessed with getting your dick wet. You think fucking solves every problem."

“In Haerin’s pussy, to be exact. I’m obsessed with getting my dick wet in her pussy.”

Haerin, who has been silently observing the conversation, tuts and playfully hits Jeno on the head. "Stop acting like that. You know when we argue, first of all, we talk about it, explain ourselves, and communicate our emotions, and then we have the best sex of our lives." She scolds him.

Jeno only smiles, not responding to Haerin. Instead, he turns to you with a smirk. "You should think about what I said though. It's a good idea."

"It's so random. I mean, I've never spoken to Jaemin once." You express, noting the mystery and introverted nature of Jaemin, someone you've only exchanged nods and smiles with.

He was a complete stranger to you, shrouded in an air of mystery and introversion. Your interactions had likely been limited to nods and smiles. He didn't go out of his way to engage with people, preferring to keep his circle small and interactions to a minimum, only when necessary. However, you couldn't help but wonder why a connection never formed between the two of you. He seemed to be on good terms with everyone else in the group—Jeno, Haerin, Hana, Eric, Mark, Yangyang, Xiaojun. It left you questioning the unspoken distance between you and him.

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when Jeno turns serious, looking at you with empathy. He shares a revelation that sends a shock through you, "It's not really that random. Apparently, Hyunjin's sleeping with Yeeun." He whispers, offering a sweet smile while Haerin rubs your back, looking at you with caution.

Your throat dries, and your vision blurs at the news. You force the words out, "Oh—how—how did you find out?" The stutter in your voice betrays your attempt to sound unaffected.

He doesn't answer directly, a regretful expression crossing his face. You're grateful he shared the information, knowing it's better to be aware than blindsided by the painful truth later.

"Y/N—" Haerin begins, concerned, but you cut her off, pretending not to care.

"I'm fine." You mumble, excusing yourself to the bathroom. Once there, the façade crumbles. The scene unfolds with you crying, water splashing on your face, your hands feeling foreign. Your heart falters, dizziness and sickness overwhelming you. Your head shakes violently as you hope for an end to this torment. As long as your heart beats for Hyunjin, someone who betrayed you, you fear being broken forever.

♥♥♥♥

You girls got ready in preparation for the party ahead. The bond you and your girls shared made getting ready together a cherished ritual, a source of laughter, and a confidence boost when you needed it the most.

Haerin took charge of your hair, her skilled hands transforming it into a sleek, silky cascade. The soft hum of the straightener filled the room as she worked her magic, creating a look that exuded confidence. Hana couldn't help but gush about the result.

The encouragement from your girls always provided a much-needed confidence boost, especially in those moments when it mattered most. "You look so beautiful and hot!!! If you’re not in someone’s bed tonight then I’m gonna get you in mine.” Hana exclaimed, her words laced with genuine admiration.

“Let’s do it.” You turn around and wink at her, giggling when she leans down to kiss your cheek.

With your hair done, the focus shifted to Hana, and you eagerly joined in to help with her makeup. You concentrated as you applied eyeshadow to her eyes, a black smokey shadow look that complemented her features flawlessly. You paired it with a red lip. She looked hot. She beamed at the mirror, hugging you tightly and smooching your head once again, clearly satisfied with the look, you can’t find it in you to be mad at the lipstick that stains your hair.

You then turn your attention to Haerin's outfit choice. You couldn’t believe how slutty yet elegant her wardrobe was, it was truly a mix of the extremes. She had the tiniest of skirts that barely covered her ass cheeks but then she also had elegant and pretty long dresses, you guess she wore whatever she felt like on the day.

After a moment of contemplation, Hana and you helped her decide on a pretty pink mini dress that will catch everyone's eye. You tie her necklace around her neck, giving her an array of bracelets and rings to accentuate the look. As Haerin slipped into the dress, a hint of uncertainty crossed her face.

"Can you see my ass cheeks through it?" Haerin whispered, turning around and tilting her head towards the mirror, attempting to gauge the view.

"Yeah.” You chuckled, admiring the hot pink lace thong peeking through the thin seams of the tight dress, "but you look incredibly sexy, Haerin."

Haerin's face lit up with a shy smirk at the compliment. "I'm not gonna change it. Jeno loves this thong so much.” She shared mischievously, "It’s my way of getting him to take me home as early as possible and to get out of this party."

You watch with a laugh when she tries to take a mirror selfie with her ass in the camera lense, Hana silently takes her phone from her hands and assists her, not being able to watch as she struggles, the two of you sharing an amused look when Haerin starts texting away on the phone, blushing when she shows you the texts.

haerin - [photo attachment of her ass cheeks]

haerin - what i’m wearing tonight baby :)

jeno - it’s see through?

jeno - you know my hands will be on your ass the entire night?

haerin - i’ll be disappointed if they weren’t :(

jeno - you know i’m just gonna rip that off you?

haerin - that’s why i’m wearing it

jeno - you just wanna get out of the party as soon as possible, don’t you?

jeno - funny of you to think that i’ll take you someplace private to fuck you when you know that i’m more likely to let the whole party hear you moaning my name

jeno - anyways do you need me to pick you up beautiful

haerin - no baby hana’s taking us

haerin - see u soon <3

Moments later, the trio of you made your way to Jeno's house. The house exterior exudes sophistication, with sleek lines and expansive windows that hinted at the luxury within. Upon entering, the richness of the house enveloped you.

Immediately, an electric atmosphere pulsated through the air. The party was in full swing, as expected from the notorious extravert and party thrower. The space was alive with a sea of people – some familiar faces from campus, others unknown.

The place was packed, almost bursting at the seams with laughter, chatter, and the rhythmic beats of thumping music that reverberated through the walls. It was a sensory overload The air was thick with the lingering fragrance of smoke and other substances.

Amidst the crowd, Jeno navigated his way through effortlessly, exchanging smiles, nods, and handshakes with friends and acquaintances alike. It was clear – everyone knew Jeno, and Jeno knew everyone.

Jeno quickly spots you, his already dilated pupils widening further. Haerin immediately becomes the focus of his attention and they share a greeting that evolves into an affectionate embrace. He lifts her up, her legs wrapping his waist and his hands find her ass cheeks immediately, his grip tight and firm. As sucking face noises fill the air, leaving you to awkwardly glance around.

Sensing your discomfort, Hana finds you, squeezing your hand to guide you away. However, you unexpectedly bump into familiar faces, and your face lights up with genuine joy. "Yeonjun!!" and "Soobin!!" escape your lips as you greet them, hugging both with grins that reflect the warmth of your reunion. The genuine happiness in their eyes mirrors your own, and you've genuinely missed having them around. They seem happier than ever, forming a couple that could rival Haerin and Jeno.

In the past, Yeonjun was your fourth roommate, and Soobin was always a constant presence. Now, you feel proud seeing them take the next step in their relationship, having moved in together. Their new flat stands as a beautiful testament to their love. Yeonjun is about to drag you somewhere; however, your escape is interrupted by the arrival of the troublesome trio—Renjun, Xiaojun, and Yangyang. They greet you with hugs, but mischievous glints in their eyes make you prepare yourself. They’re a pain in your ass before they even speak up

“There’s no fucking way you actually came.” Renjun exclaims, speaking louder than he needs to, each word marked by his intoxication.

Xiaojun was your sweetheart. “You look beautiful.” He kissed your cheek, his sweet words causing flutters in your heart as you smiled up at him with gratitude . You wrap your arms tightly around him as he whispers in your ear. “Missed you.”

“Never thought I’d see the day where you stopped moping around, crying in bed, and actually got off your ass to have some fun!!” Yangyang adds, he’s the only one who’ll be honest and upfront with you, his tone blunt which can come across as mean.

You force a smile, concealing the sadness that lingers within. Despite understanding that he intended for his words to be harmless, there's a lingering ache that suggests your friends might still perceive you as fragile. So what if you weren't in the mood for a wild party? You didn't find solace in the bottom of a bottle or in the haze of substances to cope with heartbreak. And yet, here you are, navigating the sea of unfamiliar faces and the thumping beats that echo the sentiment of your own muted heart.

A tender ache fills your heart. Haerin is like you, shy and reserved, yet the difference lies in the way her vulnerability seems to be guarded by an unspoken shield. You've noticed the whispers that never reach her, the kindness that eludes her gaze, and you can't help but feel a twinge of envy.

In the soft glow of the room, Haerin rests in the secure embrace of Jeno. Their eyes lock, unspoken words passing between them. Their smiles radiate a genuine warmth, an intimacy only for them. In this moment, you realise the unspoken truth – no one targets Haerin. She carries an invisible shield, woven from the threads of love and protection that Jeno provides.

A melancholic frown plays on your lips as you question silently: will you ever find an embrace like theirs again? One where vulnerability is met with understanding, and the world's harshness is softened by the warmth of love. It's a yearning that echoes in the quiet spaces of your soul, a desire for a connection that feels as secure and enveloping as the one you witness.

Parties are overwhelming for you, with their throbbing beats and lively chatter; however, the free alcohol makes it worth it. The liquid courage momentarily hushes the heartbreak and pain, providing an illusion of security in a world that often feels too tumultuous to navigate.

Amidst the pulsating music and vibrant chaos of the party, you find solace in the repetitive ritual of downing drink after drink. The fiery liquid drowns down your throat, leaving a burning trail that momentarily numbs out the whirlwind of emotions within. In the midst of the swirling lights and distant laughter, the free-flowing alcohol becomes the singular silver lining, the only solace you seek in the crowded abyss.

With each sip, you sink into the familiar embrace of intoxication, a sanctuary where vulnerability is masked. The glass in your hand transforms into a shield, shielding you from the prying eyes and unwelcome questions that linger in the shadows. It's a ritual, a coping mechanism that had recently become ingrained in the fabric of your existence, a way to drown out the dissonance of emotions echoing within.

The sensation of getting high and drunk becomes a substitute for the unspoken emotions that remain buried deep within. It's a fleeting escape, a momentary reprieve, where the clinking of glasses and the hum of the crowd momentarily drowns out the echoes of your own struggles. In this sea of temporary numbness, the allure of the next drink beckons, promising a brief sanctuary from the storm within.

You settle onto Xiaojun's lap, feeling the warmth and comfort of the familiar position, both legs on either side. A giddy smile plays on your lips, thinking nothing of it – you always do this was him, it was just another moment of closeness between you two. You were both always touchy and you thought nothing too much of it, it was natural, you assume he thought the same.

Little do you know, your presence on his lap subtly transforms his entire demeanour, leaving him momentarily speechless. You tut and shake your head when you feel his hardness prod against your thigh, a teasing comment escaping your lips. "Really?"

He’s shrugs. "Not the first time you’ve made me hard and not the last." He murmurs, his eyes dark as he rubs his clothed cock against you and you jab his arm. His eyes turn soft as he looks at you. Unbeknownst to you.

You find sanctuary on Xiaojun’s lap, observing the party unfold around you. Mark and his best friend catch your eye, seeming unusually close as they dance with whispered words and foreheads pressed together. Your eyes widen in surprise when you witness Yangyang, Soobin, and Yeonjun engaged in a three-way kiss. Maybe Yangyang has embraced his sexuality, or perhaps he always knew. Your gaze shifts to Haerin and Jeno, on the sofa, trying to conceal that she’s riding his cock but they’re not fooling you. They’re entwined in each other's arms, lost in their own world of affection. Then Donghyuck, looking incredibly close with someone you didn’t realise and you wonder, has he finally found the girl that’s grounded the wildness inside? You lean back against him with a grin, the familiar ritual of the hot alcohol burning down your throat as you observe everyone.

He lets out a weary sigh as you down another drink, the overpowering scent of alcohol swirling around him, momentarily drowning his senses in an intoxicating haze. "Instead of drinking, you can always just talk to me.” He suggests, concern etched in his voice. "I always tell you, I'm here for you." Xiaojun leans in to kiss your forehead, his gaze holding a mix of care and understanding.

Feeling a twinge of guilt, you shake your head, eager to change the topic. "Let's dance!" You exclaim, trying to lighten the mood. Xiaojun sighs, having just become comfortable with his hands gripping your thighs. He enjoys being in your presence, away from the busyness and loudness, and reluctantly agrees to join you on the dance floor.

You tossed expectations aside, party you did. You cheer at the top of your lungs, dancing close to Shotaro and Eric, the whole group surrendering to the music. Your arms flung up, and you let loose in the wild rhythm of the night.

The beats were relentless, matching the reckless abandon as you downed drink after drink, head held high in the haze of the party. You don’t realise how hot you look when you allow yourself to have fun. Drunk on both the music and the drugs, you remained blissfully unaware of eyes following you like a shadow – he wants you.

The lightheadedness sets in, and you can already sense the impending headache that will haunt you tomorrow. Later in the evening, you find yourself inches away from Xiaojun's lips, dancing with closeness, Let loose. Jeno's words echo in your mind – maybe he was right, and you do need a rebound.

Let loose. You glance over to see Eric and Hana taking their passion to the sofa, dry humping in the midst of an intense makeout session. Their uninhibited display stirs a desire in you to embrace the same level of outgoing freedom. Hana finally gave in to Eric’s want of her.

Let loose. You trust Xiaojun, one of your closest friends, you know he won't push it further; you're not ready for that, and he's aware. He knows that you’re only looking to rebound and have a good time. you know he knows. At first you was sceptical, he’s a fuckboy but that means he’s not serious and isn’t looking for any commitment, just what you need.

Your emotions are fucked, Hyunjin still has a control on you. You miss him, you want to see him, you want to forget about him, all you want is him. Longing to forget, you desperately wish the grip he has on your heart would release. Xiaojun, smiling and wasted, nods. You’re both on the brink of closing your eyes, ready to lean in but he's like a magnet, drawing your gaze into the distance. You see Hyunjin, the truth unfolds before you. The man who still holds your heart with his tongue shoved down someone else's throat.

Everything comes crashing down, the raw reality hitting you like a tidal wave. The reckless escape you sought in the party, the dance, the drinks – it all pales in comparison to the harsh truth that pierces through the night. The man you once shared an intimate connection with is now lost in someone else's embrace, and the weight of that realisation hangs heavy in the tumult of emotions.

Jeno was right— the lucky girl was Yeeun, Jaemin's ex. As you caught sight of her, envy gnawed at you like a persistent ache. Yeeun, with her radiant blonde hair, possessed a beauty that felt enchanting, almost ethereal. Her presence seemed to cast a captivating spell, leaving you mesmerised yet resentful.

Her blonde locks framed a face that radiated an undeniable allure, making every movement she made seem effortless and captivating. The air around her seemed to shimmer with a certain grace, intensifying the envy that gripped you. In her presence, you couldn't help but feel like an observer to a scene where she effortlessly stole the spotlight.

Time halts, and you find yourself frozen in the moment. Desperation takes hold as you bite your tongue with a force that rivals the pain in your heart, attempting to stifle the sobs threatening to escape. Despite your efforts, tears stream down uncontrollably. Suddenly you’re sober again; the drinks no longer provide an escape, instead it works to intensify the emotions, making everything a hundred times more poignant.

In an abrupt decision, you make a swift exit. Xiaojun, sensing your drop in happiness, attempts to follow, but you halt him with a silent plea. You’re grateful that he’s not sober or else he’d follow you.

The feeling of invisibility intensifies – no one pays attention to your breakdown. It's not a plea for attention, but in these moments, it seems like you're navigating this emotional storm alone. Hyunjin remains oblivious.

Navigating through the crowd, you find solace in an empty room. As the door closes behind you, a switch flips within. The facade crumbles, and you break down in a way you haven't allowed yourself to before.

Take a moment to collect yourself, leaving the room with the unsettling realization that going home might be the best option. The desire to avoid running into anyone on your way out is fueled by a doubt that anyone would even notice your departure. You don’t stand out. No one notices when you’re not there.

As you move through the hallway, your eyebrows rise at the unmistakable sounds echoing through the seemingly thin walls – loud moans, skin slapping against skin, the headboard banging, and the unmistakable noises of passion emanating from not one but two rooms.

This is Jeno's house, a place you've visited before. You can easily discern that one of the passionate pairs comprises Jeno and Haerin, obviously now in the comfort of closed walls. Unfortunately, you're all too familiar with the unique way they express themselves when they fuck, given Jeno's frequent nights spent at your house.

You hear Haerin's unrestrained cries of ‘daddy’ at the top of her lungs, audible every minute. Your eyes widen, she’s genuinely calls him that more than his actual name ‘Jeno.’ The absence of any attempt to mask the sounds with music speaks volumes about their boldness. To your surprise, the door is left slightly open, revealing an audacious lack of secrecy, these freaks want people to watch and hear. Your didn’t want to look but you glanced before you even thought about it. You nearly choke at the way he has her body bent under him. How the fuck can a human body move in that way?

The sounds from the other room trigger a quick realisation – it has to be Na Jaemin. After all, this is his house too; he shares it with Jeno. Recalling that the party was intended for Jaemin to find rebound sex and move on, you acknowledge Jeno's fair play in orchestrating a night where Jaemin seems to be thoroughly enjoying his time.

The stark difference in the way both couples fuck becomes unmistakable. Haerin and Jeno, unapologetically basking in their love, make no effort to conceal themselves, fucking openly for anyone to see and hear. On the other hand, Jaemin and his mystery girl attempt to be more calculated, trying to mask their moans with loud music but it doesn’t work. It seems like you’re witnessing an unintended competition of who can emit louder moans (it’s Jeno).

Before you spot Jaemin, his voice reaches your ears, introducing you to a side of him you never expected. This is not the same introverted, quiet guy who usually utters no more than three words in a conversation or lingers silently in the background, fading into all the buzz. His words, unexpectedly crude and filthy, pierce through the air.

"Scream my name then, go on."

"You didn't say please?"

"Such a tight cunt."

"So wet for me."

His voice, low and deep, transforms his entire persona, a sultry air that causes a rush of heat surges to your cheeks, and you find yourself blushing uncontrollably. You squeeze your thighs together, an action that doesn’t make sense but also makes so much sense. It's a revelation, leaving you grappling with the realization that this is the same guy you thought you had figured out – a quiet introvert who has now revealed a whole different side of himself in the throes of passion.

As you prepare to leave, shaking your head at how distracted you became, your steps halt when Jaemin's bedroom door swings open right in front of you. The initial sight that catches your attention is how he’s practically naked, the only thing he has on is tight boxers and you’re wondering, why are you unable to tear you gaze from the sight? You also notice the multitude of hickies adorning his skin, he has cum all over his body.

His heavy breathing and a glazed look in his eyes suggest he's not fully present, as if dwelling in another realm. There's a palpable sense of disorientation, a dizziness that separates him from the pulsating beat within his own chest. Jaemin appears not just physically spent but emotionally detached, lost in a world beyond the immediate surroundings.

His features strike a harmonious balance between softness and sharpness, creating a visage that is both captivating and alluring. His dark, tousled hair adds a touch of casual charm to the overall allure.

Yet, what intrigues you most are his eyes—deep and penetrating, yet tinged with an emptiness. Despite recent intimate engagements, the light seems to have eluded his gaze, introducing a layer of complexity that adds to the enigma surrounding him.

This is a side of him you never expected to see—it’s almost like it’s not him. The eyes you're looking at reveal a detached and broken person, so out of it that he doesn’t even see or notice you at first.

As your gaze shifts downward, his toned chest, sculpted abs, and peaks make your mouth water. His physique is undeniably attractive and hot, creating a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil reflected in his eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing?" His voice crashes into the moment, causing you to snap back to reality. The sudden sharpness catches you off guard; his tone is darker, more blunt than you ever expected.

"The party's downstairs. I swear to God, I told Jeno not to let anyone come upstairs—"

You attempt to respond, but your throat feels dry and stuck, leaving you momentarily speechless. Before you can collect your thoughts, Jaemin takes the lead.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" His voice softens instantly, concern washing over his face as he furrows his brows, carefully assessing your expression.

"I—yeah, I'm fine," you lie, the words escaping through gritted teeth.

Jaemin shakes his head, skepticism evident. "Obviously not true."

He shakes his head slowly, his expression a mix of concern and disappointment. "How much have you had to drink? You look a mess.” He admits with blunt honesty, his perceptive eyes seeing through the facade you try to maintain. He studies your flushed cheeks, the slight unsteadiness in your movements, the glaze over your eyes. the rosy tint of your complexion and the way your words occasionally stumble.

A gulp is your only response as you glance at your reflection in one of the mirrors against the wall. The sight is a disheveled mess—smudged makeup, tears still streaming down your cheeks. The emotional toll and crying have become so familiar that they seem like your default state. You only now realize that you're still crying.

"I—I'm sorry.” You mumble, the words coming out pathetically, struggling to find your voice.

Jaemin's eyes soften, and he offers you a sweet smile, twisting something inside you. You can't help but wonder why he's being so kind.

"What are you sorry for?" He chuckles.

"Is it Hyunjin?" He asks, his voice low and whispered, a hint of caution present as if he's mindful about uttering that name around you.

Jaemin stands there, visibly awkward, scratching his neck and desperately searching for a lifeline to rescue him from the situation. His eyes dart around, unsure of how to navigate the emotional turbulence around you. He subtly rolls his eyes in the direction of Jeno’s room, they were still fucking.

In a fumbling attempt to offer some comfort, Jaemin starts a motion, perhaps to retrieve a tissue from his pocket. Then, the realization hits him—here he is, practically standing naked in front of you adorned with hickies and remnants of cum. His eyes widen in a mix of surprise and embarrassment, but you shake your head reassuringly. "It's not a big deal."

Your gentle voice acts as a balm, stirring something within him. His eyes lock onto yours, and in that unspoken exchange, there's a shared understanding. Jaemin's thumb delicately grazes underneath your eyes, wiping away the tears from your delicate skin.

"Fuck Hyunjin.” He whispers, his voice soft and tender yet carrying a sharp edge of hurt and anger on your behalf. You nod in response, a genuine smile naturally forming on your lips. In that moment, as Jaemin expresses both solidarity and indignation, you feel an unexpected sense of settlement.

What is it about Na Jaemin? You’re left pondering, did he even know your name? This is someone who you never expected to be so kind and respectful to you, you’ve heard endless stories about how he’s quiet and doesn’t talk but you’re seeing a whole different side.

He continues wiping away your tears, and you can't believe you're still crying. The weight of vulnerability starts to lift, making room for a mix of bitterness and a twinge of sadness in your voice as you mumble, "Our exes are fucking."

You wonder if Jaemin already knew, as he doesn't react with sadness or shock. Instead, his facial expression remains void and unchanged. You can't help but envy how he maintains such control over his emotions. All the times you’ve seen him, he’s had one expression on his face, nonchalant and unbothered.

“How are you not reacting?” You cry out more than you wanted to, perplexed as to how he has such a tight control on his emotions. You envy it, you wish you could be like him.

“Come with me.” A surprised gaze lingers in your eyes as his suggestion hangs in the air. He nods towards his room, and you can't help but feel a flush of red creep onto your cheeks. The first thought that leaps into your mind raises questions – does he want to sleep with you? It seems plausible, given the fact he had just been fucking and that this party was thrown to help him find a rebound. What if he sees you as another opportunity?

"I don’t wanna fuck you.” You whisper back, the words leaving your lips with a mix of uncertainty and anticipation.

Jaemin shakes his head, a subtle smirk playing on his lips as he contemplates the notion that you believed he was suggesting something more explicit. "I didn’t say that was going to happen. Do you want that to happen?" He teases, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he tilts his head, awaiting your reaction. However, you evade giving him a response, breaking eye contact.

"I should be getting home anyway.” You mention, attempting to steer the conversation away.

"How are you gonna get there?" he probes further.

"Hana said she’ll take us, if not then Jeno –" you begin, but he cuts you off with a knowing smirk.

"Hana is shit-faced high downstairs and fucking Eric on the sofa and we can still hear Haerin screaming 'daddy,' so obviously Jeno's busy." He interjects.

"Then I’ll just walk home." You assert.

"It’s 1 am." He points out. “Do you know how dangerous the street are at this time?”

"It’s 10 minutes away.” You counter.

“Just come into my room.” He suggests with a confident assurance, the conversation steering in a way you didn’t expect. The straightforwardness catches you off guard.

"Just trust me.” He murmurs, his words something you're willing to trust. Weakness washes over you, you don’t have anything else to lean on. The prospect of going home in isolation, with only your broken heart and the lingering drink in your hand as companions, feels unbearable.

Without much contemplation, you nod, surrendering to the solace he seems to offer in the unknown. “Ok.” You mumble, your response sealed with a hint of anticipation.

Jaemin's room is painted in a rich midnight blue, creating a calming atmosphere. The walls are adorned with posters of indie bands and artistic prints, showcasing his eclectic taste. Muted gray decor complements the deep blue, and lights strung along the walls provide a soft, ambient glow. A well-organized desk sits against one wall, littered with notebooks, a laptop, and scattered pens. The minimalist furniture, including a sleek bed with monochrome bedding, adds a touch of simplicity to the room. Various trinkets and souvenirs line the shelves, hinting at Jaemin's interests and experiences.

Numerous photographs cover one section of Jaemin's room, creating a nostalgic collage on the wall. The alcohol in your system blurs the faces, but the emotions captured in each snapshot are vivid. Smiles, laughter, and shared moments freeze in time. Your vision may be hazy, but the warmth of those memories makes you smile.

Your heart pounds when you realise there’s an unexpected sight—a half-naked girl perched at the end of his bed. Shock and embarrassment wash over you, she’s the girl you heard him fucking earlier.

“Get out.” Jaemin's stands with crossed arms, watching her exit with impatience. You recognize her as Karina, a girl from your year. Her eyes meet yours, and she smirks, offering a thumbs up with a mischievous giggle. In a hushed whisper, she says. “You’re gonna have so much fun, he does this thing with his tongue…”

Her words leave you blushing and flustered. Before you can make it clear that you were not here to fuck, Jaemin swiftly escorts her out, locking the door firmly behind her.

In an awkward atmosphere, Jaemin proceeds to put on a simple top and jeans. The tension is palpable as you fumble through your reasons for being in his room. Confusion clouds your gaze when he extends his black leather jacket towards you, and you silently drape it over your shoulders, catching a scent reminiscent of midnight rain and cinnamon.

"I'm gonna go home.” You mumble.

Jaemin shakes his head in response, "I already said that it's too dark and dangerous –"

"I'll just –"

"Either I'm gonna take you home or you're staying with me," he says sternly. "I can't leave you alone like this… wasted and clearly upset. Plus, Haerin is staying over, so I want some sleep tonight. I know her and Jeno will be fucking all night long.“

You nod, the two of you sharing a silent understanding as your eyes meet in the moonlit room. In that moment, your gaze holds a mix of darkness and glistening emotions. "Take me home.” You softly request.

“My house is gonna empty. You can stay over.” You whisper, heavy breaths taking over your voices.

♥♥♥♥

The air is charged with anticipation as his bulge pressed firmly against your thighs, the sensation sending shivers through your body. You can feel the warmth between you, he’s so hard that his length is digging into your skin.

Jaemin’s staring down at you, body pressed against yours as you fall onto the bed, him following. You can’t believe how sexy he looks. His gaze met yours with an intensity charged with an electric current of unspoken words. The moonlight played across his features, highlighting the depth of his dark eyes and accentuating the sharp contours of his face.

He hovers over you, his fingers delicately caress your face. They trace the contours underneath the hollow of your cheek, along your sleek jawline, and over your fluttering eyelashes. His voice was a low murmur, a tone that revealed a depth to him you hadn’t noticed before. “So fucking pretty.” He whispered, and you felt your pussy throb and ache for him.

The room seemed to pulse with anticipation, a magnetic tension pulling you closer in the dimly lit space. There was a certain warmth in your closeness, an unspoken connection that seemed to bridge the gap between you two effortlessly.

The moment you stepped into the sanctuary of your empty house, your lips found each other in an instant, pressing fervently, lost in a mutual hunger. It was unclear who made the first move; it seemed to be a shared impulse. All you were aware of was the rapid beat of your heart as you found yourself breathlessly kissing and biting his inviting lips, your legs wrapped around his waist in an embrace of longing.

As he carried you upstairs, a whirlwind of desire and impatience in his every step, he threw you down on what was, unknown to him, Haerin’s bed. The room, adorned with countless photos of her with Jeno and her friends, went unnoticed in the dim light, its significance lost in the intensity of the moment.

He had mistaken this room for yours but you can’t be bothered to correct him. In that instant, the only truth that mattered was the closeness between you two. Besides, a part of you relished the thought of fucking him in her bed - this was a subtle payback for all those times Haerin had fucked Jeno on your bed.

Jaemin’s voice, low and teasing, broke the charged silence. “Are you just gonna stare at me all day?” He teased, his voice a low whisper that caressed your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Tell me what you want, I’ll give you everything, darling…” His hot breath against your ear, followed by a gentle bite on your earlobe, intensified the moment.

You continued to gaze into his eyes, finding yourself at a loss for words. His presence was overwhelming — a side of him you hadn’t seen before. There was a captivating darkness in his demeanor that left you both stunned and deeply attracted.

His finger traced your lips, gently pulling them down. A smirk played on his lips as his gaze dropped to your legs, wrapped tightly around his waist. Your movements were restless, you keep shuffling, desperate to feel something between your thighs to which Jaemin let out a soft, playful tut too.

“Just fuck me.” You moan out, the words laced with desperation.

He smirks, the embodiment of a tease. “Are you sure?” His whisper is a mix of sweetness and seduction, his eyes soft yet resolute as he looks down at you. His breath fans over your skin, a contrast to the intensity in his gaze.

You nod, trying to attach your lips to his but he dodged, a playful glint in his eyes. “Tell me exactly.”

A moment of silence hangs heavy in the air, filled with unspoken longing.

“Tell me you want me.” He presses, his voice a gentle command.

“I’m sure.” You reply, your voice barely a whisper.

He tuts softly, a sound that sends a thrill through you. Shaking his head, it still wasn’t enough.

“I want you. I want you to touch me, I want you cock in my pussy. I want you to fuck me.”

The air knocks from your lungs when his lips suddenly meet yours in an explosion of sensation. His lips are a perfect mix of softness and firmness, molding against yours with an intensity that sends waves of heat through your body. The taste of him is intoxicating, a hint of sweetness that lingers and beckons for more.

It’s a collision of longing and emotion, intense and all-consuming. Your mouth opens against his, and the moan that escapes you vibrates against his lips, a raw sound of pleasure that deepens the kiss. His tongue meets yours in a dance of shared passion, exploring and responding with equal fervor.

Each brush of his lips sending shivers down your spine. The world around you fades into a blur, leaving only the exquisite feel of his kiss, the taste of him, and the shared breath that seems to connect you on a level beyond words.

His mouth found the sensitive area of your neck, his mouth moving with a mix of tenderness and urgency that made your breath hitch in surprise, having not been touched like this in so long the air has already been sucked out of you. The warmth of his breath against your skin, mingled with the softness of his lips, created an intoxicating sensation, stirring a deep craving within you.

He then trailed a path of fervent kisses up your jawline, each one imbued with a burning intensity, his lips moving against the contours of your face, each kiss a declaration of desire. His movements were both deliberate and instinctual, as if each kiss was guided by a deep, primal need.

With a deep breath, he reached for the hem of your top, fingers brushing against the fabric in a gentle, almost reverent touch. The material was soft and lights

He slowly lifted the top and there was a moment of quiet, a hush that seemed to fill the space with anticipation. The fabric whispered against your skin as it rose and cascaded down your body prettily, the sound as soft as a breeze through autumn leaves.

Jaemin’s eyes found yours, and in them, you saw a whirlwind of emotions. His gaze was intense. The air between you two crackled. His eyes, dark and expressive, spoke volumes more than words ever could. There was a hunger in them.

He lowered his mouth to your chest and immediately brought your nipples to his lips, his first touch was a slow and thoughtful lick, savouring your taste. He took his time, lavishing your nipple with light swirls of his tongue and gentle kisses, which elicited moans of pleasure to spill from your lips.

He gently bit on the sensitive bud of skin, his teeth releasing with a ‘pop,’ followed by a contented smile as you moan his name. His attention to making you feel good was thorough, a mixture of playful bites, long licks, and occasional sucking.

Slowly, he continued with small, delicate kisses, down your body, from your boobs to your upper thigh, the soft press of his lips against your skin made you whine, pulling on his hair and begging him for where you wanted his touch the most. You slowly grind your clothes pussy against his face, he looks up at you with a smirk. “You wanna feel me here?” He whispers, voice filled with breath as his soft fingertips tread along your lower stomach, his lower lip captured between his teeth.

You nod eagerly, a mixture of anticipation and nerves filling you as you hadn’t had sex in 5 months and you didn’t expect to be doing it right now, with Na Jaemin, of all people. It intensifies your emotions but you surprisingly feel ready, you never expected to be so settled in such an intimate embrace with a complete stranger but there was something about Na Jaemin that made you horny.

He presses his lips against yours intensely as his hands gently tease the edge of your mini skirt, eventually slipping beneath the fabric. You break the just for a second, maintaining strong eye contact with him as you pull your mini skirt down your legs, his hands gripping your thighs tightly, caressing it with his soft fingers before eagerly pushing your lace thong down your thighs, lips smashing against yours once again as he tosses both your skirt and thong to the side, trailing kisses up your legs, his fingers beginning to delve into your pussy.

“You’re so fucking wet.” He hisses against your ear, cold fingers making circles against your folds, the hard metals of his rings touching your burning skin as he rubs on your clit.

His fingers push deeper and deeper into your cunt as your head hits the pillow and you let out a loud moan of his name. He drops open mouthed kisses to your neck as he thrusts his fingers in and out your pussy, grunts leaving his lips at how your slick coats his fingers completely, the feeling of you clenching around his fingers and growing wet making his head dizzy.

“Do you see how fucking wet you are?” He whispers, suddenly shoving his fingers in your tiny mouth, making you gag but you suck nonetheless. He brings his fingers to his own mouth, licking your cum and moaning. “Just wanna fucking taste you.”

His eyes close as he delves into your pussy. He starts off slow, soft licks and nips of your already wet clit, you curl your toes, your vision becoming blurry due to the tears of pleasure but you can feel how fucking good he’s eating you out. His tongue laps at your clit, you whine and push his face closer, desperate for him to eat you out like it’s his last meal.

He kisses your folds, giving the delicate and wet skin a loud smooch before moving his lips and tongue at a pace that already has you crying out for him. He’s moaning into you, the sensation causing a vibration within your folds. “So fucking tasty.” He growls, the words muffled against your skin.

His nose presses against your pussy, you wrap your legs around his shoulders and he grips onto your ass, squeezing the flesh and giving it one compact spank before gripping onto your thighs, his grip so tight that you’re caged against him. His nails dig in and you’re sure he’s leaving harsh marks and your grip on his hair is so tight but neither of you care.

Your eyes roll back in pleasure and you the prettiest noises spill from your mouth when your climax hits, you squirt and drip all over your folds and he has every last bit of it, his lips lapping up your sticky wetness as if it’s a treat.

He leans back momentarily to appreciate the sight. Your hot cum leaking out of your tiny and tight hole, before he moves his tongue to lap up every last drop. It goes everywhere, all over his face, down his chin and neck but he’s grunting so loudly, begging you for more. “Taste so fucking good.”

“Jaemin.” You moan out, thrusting your pussy against him and reaching for his hard cock, desperate to feel him where you want him most. “Come on!!!!” You cry out.

He tuts at your impatience, eyes soft as he looks into your teary ones. “Yeah, yeah. Just be patient, baby.” His mouth pops, a sweet smile as you whimper at the use of the pet name, a sweet word said in such a mysterious and sensual way.

A realisation comes to you, have you even introduced yourself to him? Your mouth opens with a heavy moan when Jaemin’s eyes, dark and intense, locked with yours. You could hear the sound of his heavy breathing, a rhythmic echo that matched the quickening pace of your own heart.

You found yourself reacting instinctively. You bucked up slightly as Jaemin’s fingers deftly worked to loosen the belt around his jeans. Sliding it down his legs and tossing it far away.

He’s so hard. You hold his massive cock in your hands, eyes wide and mouth watering at the sheer size of it. You can feel the firmness beneath your fingertips. As you roughly rub his cock, he groans and drops his head to your shoulder, allowing you to touch away. Your fingers glide over the length, he removes your hands and replaces his own, dropping down and aligning his cock with your tight hole. His mouth pressing against yours with an open mouthed kiss.

“I’m Y/N by the way.” You gulp, voice barely audible due to the fucked state that you’re in.

“I know.” He whispers back.

You hum. “I know your name.” He groans louder. “Can I call you baby?” He asks with a smirk, you don’t know if he’s forgotten that he already has but his low and deep voice already has you weak in your knees so you nod enthusiastically.

“Please.” You whimper, feeling so incredibly turned on right now.

He distracts you with sweet kisses to your cheeks, when his cock finally enters your pussy but you’re instantly crying out from overstimulation and sensitivity. He’s so fucking big. You cry out when you realise he’s too big for you. You look down and the feeling of sadness intensifies when you realise only his tip has entered.

He coos in your ear, wiping your tears, holding your hand tightly in his and making the slightest of movements inside of you but you shake your head, a feeling that you can’t describe overtaking you. “You’re too big, it won’t fit. I can’t take it.” You say with an adamance.

“It will fit, baby.” He says simply, giving you a sweet smile and you get lost in his eyes, you find yourself instantly trusting him and it has you questioning yourself, you never trust this easily.

He kisses your temple softly, a tenderness that makes you whine and cry at the same time. You wrap your legs around his waist, craving the closeness. You nod, your doe eyes gazing into his as he makes you promises. “It will all fit, I know I’m big but I’ll make sure of it. I promise I’ll make you feel good, I’ll won’t hurt. I’ll go as slow as you want me to, ok?” His voice is filled with so much genuineness and by kindness that you find it impossible not to melt, your trust growing for him intensely.

He thrusts into you at a slow and sensual pace and before you know it, more and more of his length fills you up until you tighten around him, smiling at how fucking good and cosy it felt. “I told you baby, just trust me.” He smiles, looking down and cooing at the beautiful sight, your walls sucking him in and you tightening around him.

“You’re such a good girl, baby.” He purrs into your ear as he fucks into you at a pace that made your head spin. It was suddenly so fast, the headboard banging, skin slapping against skin, his hands slapping your ass, heavy breathing, passionate moans concealed even though they didn’t need to be, you had the house to yourself, however the two of you found comfort in smashing your lips against each other and moaning into each others mouths.

He fucks his cock deep into you hole, hitting your pleasure spot over and over again, your back arches, your toes curl and your pleasure pool deepens with every thrust. He wipes away your tears gently with his fingers, whispering words of praises that make you whine. The way he’s looking at you fucks your mind up and makes your head spin. His eyes are so soft and so piercing, you feel as though you don’t deserve to be looked at with this tenderness.

However when you try to cover your eyes with your hands, he takes your arms and cages them above your head, shaking his head firmly and giving you a serious look, enough to tell you that he wants to look at you as he fucks you.

Your pussy tightens around him and he groans, your walls continuously clenching around his cock and sucking him in deeper. Your thighs shake around his waist and his hand that’s slapping your ass becomes sloppier and slower. The noises of his cock fucking your wet and creamy cunt turns him on, the need to cum inside you deepening. His moans are more needy and the volume increases, his eyes darken in ways you didn’t expect. He’s pounding into you at an incoherent pace when he feels your high is near.

“Cum in me.” You beg into his ear, panting heavily and he lets out a growl at your needy side.

“Fuck, baby. Are you on the pill?”

You cry out, shaking your head when you remember he’s not even using protection, you were two horny sluts who forgot.

“Fuck. I forgot to wear a condom.” He says in an apologetic voice.

“I don’t care. Cum in me.” The words spill from your mouth so easily, you question whether you want to take it back but you take a look at him. His hair, a dark cascade, fell just above his dark and intense eyes and he hasn’t broken eye contact with you, not once. His smile, so boyish and warm.

Yeah. You’re definitely sure you want his cum in you.

His thrusts become slower and more messy but it still feels fucking good. He kisses you passionately when he cums, moaning against your mouth when you beg for his cum once again.

He fucks you through your high, you moan out his name as your hot cum leaks out of you but he fucks it back into you, his own cum coating your arousal, drops falling down your thighs and leaving a sticky mess. You look down and the sight is beautiful, you don’t know where you start or where he ends.

He paints your walls as he sighs at the feeling. As Jaemin’s lips met yours, there was an immediate rush of warmth and desperation, a culmination of longing transformed into a single, fervent kiss. His lips moved against yours with a passion that spoke volumes, tender yet insistent, The kiss deepened, and you could feel the gentle pressure of his mouth, the soft brush of his breath against your skin.

“Good girl.” He whispers, pressing a soft kiss against your temple.

You fall asleep like that, in his strong arms and grip, his cock buried deep inside of you, thighs still sticky with cum and you know you needed to be cleaned up but as you lay on top of him, head resting against his chest, the lullaby of his heartbeat sends you to immediate sleep.

liked it??? send me an ask please <333 give feedback and share your thoughts it would mean the world to me

comment to be added to the tag list for part 2!! (will be a 4 part series)

taglist - @sexygrass @tywritesstuff @666-aiko @leep0ems @kyuuniversee @daegalfangirl @side-effects @kgneptun @thecaffeinatedfangirl @i6renj @hcaeh @buns-inhiding @pinknjm @nominsgirl @liliansun

[joons-cinnamon-bun]

The Case of Us.

Summary: You and Namjoon are an unlikely pair, clashing from the start. He’s a seasoned detective, used to working alone and running on instinct. You, a rookie, fresh off acing your detective exam, ready to prove yourself. At first, you butt heads—your sharp, hardheaded approach grating against his calm, measured demeanor. But there's an undeniable pull between the two of you, an unspoken understanding that begins to form as you both tackle case after case. Through the chaos of the job, you rely on each other more and more. And though you're still figuring out the balance between the stubborn rookie and the seasoned detective, you both know one thing for certain—you're a hell of a team. A/N: Oh Hey everyone... So, I did it again—I got overwhelmed by life and felt the need to write... And you know the drill. (I ended up re-reading Chapter 4 of Holiday Pretense so many times that I couldn’t tell what was repeating and what was just my brain spiraling. And i guess I rage-quit for the day) So instead, I ended up writing something completely different. But this time, it's really random and far "into the story". Also, that pancake dialogue is loosely inspired by a conversation from "Castle"-oldish detective serries i love to this day. Call it a teaser if you will? (I wanna know if anyone would be interested in something like this.) (besides those 5 wips i have already lol. i need professional help 😓🥲) (thank you always @callmenoona25 for proofreading. love you) Pairing: Namjoon x f.reader Genre: detective/ thriller. neo noir(?) Rating: explicit. Minors do not interact. Warnings: Guns. Mentions of serial killers and bodies. Crimes. Corpses. police/detective lingo. Detective Yoongi and Jungkook being the best duo. (Also, if you know me. I tend to keep it light- not very gore. But i do have a genuine obsession with true crime/detective stories/criminology. So this might turn off some readers. proceed at your own discretion) tag list: @uniquetravelerone @sexytholland @codeinebelle @annyeongbitch7 @rpwprpwprpwprw @goldietigers294 @amarawayne @oneshallsmile

The dead of night. The scent of rain still clung stubbornly to the damp, heavy air, even hours after the downpour had stopped. Your tv was on, though it was on mute.

Then you heard it.

A sound—a shuffle by the doorway.

Instinct took over. The lights went dark in an instant, your hand moving with practiced ease to the gun at your hip. You gripped it tight, steady, breath held as you listened.

The sounds didn’t stop. The lock turned. The knob twisted.

Before the intruder could take a step inside, you struck—slamming your full weight against him, pinning him to the doorframe, gun pressed firm against his throat.

“Holy shit-!”

A familiar voice. Your grip tightened for just a second before recognition set in.

“Namjoon?”  you didn’t lower the gun.

“Who else would it be?” his tone was maddeningly casual, one hand gripping your wrist, pushing the barrel down to his chest, right above his heart. “Just— don’t shoot the face.”

Your pulse was still hammering in your ears, the rush of the adrenaline refusing to fade. You let out a slow breath, easing the gun off his chest but not fully lowering it.

Namjoon let out a short chuckle- half amused, half exasperation. “Nice to see you too,” he muttered, rolling his shoulder as if shaking off the impact.

“You could’ve called.” you shot back, eyes still sharp, scanning his face in the dim light. he looked tired, damp hair falling messily over his forehead, his clothes wrinkled like he’d been running all night.

“And argue with you over the phone?” he asked, rubbing at his throat where the gun had pressed, “I think it worked out better this way.”

Your gaze flicked to the door, still slightly ajar. “You picked the lock?!”

He shrugged. “Old habits.”

You exhaled through your nose, finally lowering the gun all the way. “What the hell are you doing here, Namjoon?”

His smirk faltered slightly. For the first time, you noticed the tension in his jaw, the way is fingers curled slightly over the damp paper bags he was carrying.

“I-” he took a breath, like the confession hurt, “I’m worried about you.”

You huff, incredulous, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it.

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can. Clearly.” he gestured vaguely towards the gun in your hand. “Doesn’t change the fact that as your supervisor and partner, I worry about you.” He moved with ease, setting the bags on your kitchen table, leaving a trail of wet footsteps all across your tile floor.

“Namjoon, I’m not a rookie anymore.”

Namjoon let out a quiet sigh, rubbing a hand over his face before leaning against the counter. “I never said you were.”

You crossed your arms, watching him. “Then stop treating me like one.”

His eyes flicked to yours—sharp, unreadable. “If you want me to stop, then quit making it so damn easy to worry.”

That shut you up for a second.

The weight of his words lingered in the space between you, thick as the humidity still clinging to the air. You glanced at the paper bags on the table, the edges crumpled from his grip. “What’s this?”

“Dinner.” He peeled one open, pulling out a takeout container. “Figured you haven’t eaten.”

You frowned, but your stomach betrayed you with a quiet growl. Namjoon heard it—of course he did—and the smirk that tugged at his lips made you want to shoot him just on principle.

“I was going to eat.”

“Yeah?” He arched a brow, flipping open the container. “What, exactly? Stale instant noodles? Maybe those grotesque granola bars you like to keep in your purse and only eat after they expire?”

You huffed but didn’t deny it.

Namjoon grabbed a pair of chopsticks and held them out. “Sit. Eat.”

“Is this standard procedure with all your trainees?” The sarcasm was thick in your voice, but you still took a seat across from him.

“Just the ones that get themselves targeted by serial killers.”

Your grip on the chopsticks faltered for just a second.

Then you scoffed. “That supposed to be a joke?”

Namjoon didn’t laugh. Didn’t even blink.

Your stomach twisted.

“I’m serious.” His voice had dropped, low and steady, the kind that sent a chill down your spine. “We need to talk.”

You eyed him warily, then set the container down. “About what?”

Namjoon exhaled, rubbing at his temple like he already regretted this conversation. “There was another one.”

Your fingers curled instinctively around the edge of the table. “Where?”

“Downtown. Two blocks from our last case.”

You didn’t need him to elaborate. Your mind was already connecting the dots, pulling up images you didn’t want to see.

Same M.O.? You almost asked, but you already knew the answer.

Namjoon watched you carefully, like he was waiting for the realization to hit.

It did.

“That’s why you’re here.” The words tasted bitter. “You think I’m next.”

His jaw tightened. “And you clearly agree. Why else would you sleep with your gun strapped to your hip?”

“I think you guys are overreacting.”

“Is that why you called the protection detail off? You were supposed to have uniforms watching you right now.”

“The captain is being absurd.” You take a bite of rice “Much like you are right now.” You argue between mouthfuls.

“You’re impossible.” He watched you with that usual superior look of his, that challenging glare that made your blood boil.

“So, what? You decided to break in and deliver takeout because you think I have a target on my back?”

Namjoon’s expression didn’t shift. If anything, his silence spoke louder than any answer he could’ve given.

Your stomach churned—not from the food, but from the implications hanging between you.

He wasn’t here just because he thought you were in danger.

He was here because he knew you were.

“I’m staying the night.”

You snapped. “Oh, like hell you are!”

Namjoon didn’t flinch. He just set down his chopsticks and looked you dead in the eye, his gaze unwavering.

“I’m staying the night,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You shot him a look that could cut glass, but his expression didn’t change. There was something in his eyes—something you couldn't quite place.

“Not a chance, Namjoon,” you snapped, pushing yourself away from the table. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“No, you need to not get killed.”

The words snapped like a gunshot between you, sharp and final.

Neither of you spoke.

Outside, the rain threatened to start again, fat droplets tapping against the glass.

You held his stare, your jaw clenched and shoulders squared, the air between you so tense it felt like either of you might snap.

“Fine.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “But you sleep on the couch.”

Namjoon’s lips twitched into a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Deal,” he said, nodding in silent agreement as he slowly backed away from the table. He didn’t argue further—there was nothing left to say once the terms were set. “I also got us a bottle of wine to celebrate you finally taking an order from me.”

“You’re impossible,” you counter, using his earlier line.

You resumed eating, though the rice had lost its appeal. Each bite felt heavy, burdened by the tension between you. Every clink of chopsticks and scrape of ceramic against the table punctuated the silence like a metronome counting down the moments until something else would shatter the uneasy calm.

Namjoon didn’t respond immediately, his gaze drifting toward the kitchen counter, where the bottle of wine sat like a silent witness to the strange turn of events. He seemed content to let the silence stretch between you, his presence still an unspoken weight in the room.

The tension was thick, almost suffocating, but you didn’t care to break it. Not yet. The thoughts swirling in your head—the things you hadn’t said out loud—kept you rooted in place. The noise of the rain outside, once soothing, now only added to the discomfort that crawled under your skin.

Namjoon poured two glasses of wine, his movements slow and deliberate. When he placed one in front of you, you took it without a word. He watched you for a beat, his eyes searching, trying to gauge what was really going on beneath the surface.

You took a sip, the warmth of the wine doing little to ease the cold unease that wrapped around you. The day, the case, everything was starting to feel too close, too personal. And Namjoon’s silent presence wasn’t helping, no matter how much it was meant to comfort.

After a few minutes, Namjoon cleared his throat softly, watching you look down into your glass. “I don’t suppose you’d mind if I set up my gear in the living room?” he asked, voice low. “Just in case we need to move fast.”

You frowned, glancing toward the door where the muted TV light played over the wall. “It’s your turn to be my backup tonight,” you muttered, half teasing, half warning.

He raised an eyebrow. “You know I never leave your side—even if I’m on the couch,” he replied, a trace of amusement in his tone that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You shot him a sidelong look, then set your glass down. “Get your things, Namjoon. And for the record, I’d prefer not to have a detective rummaging through my living room,” you added, attempting to lighten your tone despite the unease creeping in.

He smirked. “I’ll try to behave,” he said with a wink that belied the seriousness behind his words.

Moments later, the quiet hum of preparation filled the apartment. Namjoon unpacked his duffel bag with the methodical precision of someone who’d been in high-stakes situations far too many times. You found yourself glancing repeatedly at the window, where the rain began to fall again in earnest, drumming against the glass like a ragged heartbeat.

“I’ll fetch you some blankets.”

“A few pillows too.”

You chuckle, “Do you want a facemask too?”

Namjoon looked up from his bag, a playful glint in his eyes despite the tension hanging in the air. “Only if it comes with a side of earplugs,” he teased, the corner of his lips twitching upward.

You rolled your eyes, standing up from the table and moving toward the closet “Yeah, baby boy needs his beauty sleep.”

You tossed the blanket and pillows onto the couch, but as you straightened up, the sound of the rain outside seemed to deepen, becoming almost repetitive in its heaviness. For a moment, neither of you spoke—just the low hum of the apartment and the soft drum of water against glass.

Namjoon broke the silence with a more serious note. “Try and get some rest. You’ve had a long week.”

You paused, turning to face him, your gaze met his, and for a moment, the usual banter was gone, replaced by something more sincere—something that tugged at the edges of your own quiet worry. You opened your mouth, but the words didn’t come right away, and you debated if you even wanted to let them out.

“Thank you.”

Namjoon’s gaze softened, the seriousness in his face fading into something just slightly softer.

He nodded slowly, as if accepting your gratitude, though his lips didn’t curve into a smile. There was something grounding about the way he held your gaze, like he understood more than you were saying.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he murmured, his voice low, but the words carried weight. “It’s what we do.”

You exhaled quietly, finally giving in to the tension in your shoulders. “Yeah, well... it’s still nice to hear.” You couldn’t stop yourself from adding, the soft edge to your tone. “Thank you for being here. And for dinner.”

“It’s no problem,” he said quietly, his voice steady but gentle. “You know I’ve got your back.”

“Yeah.” You still sigh despite yourself, pushing towards the bedroom “Goodnight Joon.”

Namjoon watched you as you moved toward the bedroom, his eyes soft, but there was a hint of something unreadable in them. He remained silent for a moment, just watching you before speaking in that calm, reassuring tone of his.

“Goodnight,” he said quietly, though his voice lingered in the space between you, grounding you in the moment.

You didn’t turn back, but his presence, quiet and constant, felt like a weight lifted, even just for tonight. The quiet murmur of the rain outside seemed softer, less oppressive as you closed the door behind you.

~~~

The smell of pancakes felt foreign in your apartment. The rich, buttery scent filled the air, its warmth cutting through the cool, damp atmosphere of the morning. You blinked a few times, trying to shake off the grogginess, your mind still hazy from sleep. It took a few seconds for you to process what was happening.

Namjoon.

You could hear the faint sound of him humming, the clink of utensils, the quiet sizzle of batter on the griddle. The peacefulness of it felt almost surreal after the tension of the night before.

Rubbing your eyes, you stepped out of the bedroom, the coolness of the floor beneath your feet grounding you back in reality. You walked toward the kitchen, where Namjoon was flipping pancakes like he’d done this a hundred times in your kitchen—like he belonged there.

He glanced up when you appeared, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but it was the kind of smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. The weight of last night still hung in the air between you.

“Morning,” he greeted softly, the scent of coffee following the pancakes.

You blinked at the scene, still a little dazed. “Did you... make this?” You gestured toward the stack of golden pancakes, the syrup bottle, and the neatly placed plates.

“I wanted to make eggs. But they expired last year, and your bacon had something growing on it.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. We need to go to the precinct.”

“Will you relax? Just sit down and eat.”

You shot him a look, but he was already plating another pancake, as if he were completely unfazed by the chaos that had defined your life for the last few days.

“I’m serious, Namjoon. We don’t have time for breakfast. The precinct is waiting, and you’ve got a duty.” You gestured vaguely to the mess of plates and syrup bottles, your voice tightening slightly despite the absurdity of the moment.

He turned to you with an almost exasperated expression, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “You need food. We both do. The precinct will be there when we're ready. In the meantime, we sit. We eat. You get a few minutes to breathe.”

You huffed in frustration but couldn't deny the logic behind his words. He was right, you were barely functioning on caffeine and adrenaline, and you needed a break—even if just for a few minutes.

“Fine,” you muttered, sitting down at the table. “But as soon as we're done, we're out the door. No more distractions.”

Namjoon gave you a nod, his tone still light. “Oh, I forgot the newspaper.” He turned off the stove and did his little half-jog to the door.

But as soon as he twisted the doorknob, the door slammed open against the weight of the body propped against it. A sickening thud reverberating through the apartment. Your heart skipped a beat as the sight of the corpse registered in an instant—its pale, lifeless face staring up at you, eyes vacant and unseeing. The air in the room felt like it had thickened, the weight of the situation crashing down on you.

Namjoon froze for a moment, his hand still on the doorknob. Then, without a word, he stepped back, his body moving with precision as he grabbed his cell and tossed it to you.

“Call the precinct.” He instructed, fetching his gun in an instant “And stay back.”

Your fingers trembled as you caught the phone, the shock still running through your veins. You barely registered the coldness of the device against your palm, too focused on the scene in front of you. The body. The blood that had pooled around it, seeping into the carpet like it was part of the apartment itself.

You fumbled with the phone, dialling the precinct, your breath hitching in your throat. The line rang once, twice, before someone picked up, their voice professional, unaware of the horror unfolding in your living room.

“112, what’s your emergency?”

“This is Detective Hwang, badge number 1209. There’s a body on my front door.”

The voice on the other end of the line shifted instantly, now alert. “Detective Hwang, stay on the line. Is the scene secure? Do you need assistance?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice tight as you tried to steady your breathing. “We have a body. It's… propped against the door. Get someone here immediately.”

“Understood, Detective. Stay where you are. Officers are on their way. Do not engage with the scene further.”

You glanced over at Namjoon, who was crouched by the body now, his gun trained at the door as he assessed the situation. He didn't flinch or pause, moving with the practiced calm that had always been his trademark.

It took less than 8 minutes for your apartment to be crawling with uniforms, CSU, and of course, Detective Yoongi and Jungkook.

“So,” Jungkook was talking to Namjoon, merely a few steps away from where you sat at the kitchen table across from Yoongi. “Wine glasses.”

“Yeah, Namjoon brought dinner and wine.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and Namjoon with a smirk. “Dinner and wine, huh? Cozy night in?”

Namjoon shot him a deadpan look. “It was supposed to be breakfast, too, until we were rudely interrupted by a corpse.”

Jungkook let out a low whistle, shaking his head “Pancakes?”

You glanced over at him, confused.

“So, nothing else happened?” Jungkook continued undeterred.

“Jungkook what are you on about?”

“Well, you know what they say about pancakes.” Yoongi replied, though his eyes were still glued to his notepad.

You narrowed your eyes, glancing between Yoongi and Jungkook. “Okay, I’ll bite. What do they say about pancakes?”

Jungkook grinned like he’d been waiting for you to ask. “Pancakes are the best way to say ‘Hey, thanks for that amazing sex last night.’”

You choked on absolutely nothing, spluttering as Namjoon let out the world’s longest sigh beside you.

“Oh my God,” Namjoon muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we not do this right now?”

Yoongi finally glanced up from his notepad, entirely unbothered. “It’s a well-documented theory.”

Jungkook nodded, very seriously. “Classic post-hookup breakfast. Means it was so good that one of you felt compelled to whip up something warm and sweet the next morning.”

Your mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again. “It was just breakfast, Jungkook.”

“Was it?” Jungkook teased, crossing his arms. “Because the way I see it, there are two wine glasses on the counter, Namjoon sleeping over, and pancakes on the table.”

Namjoon made a noise somewhere between a groan and a death rattle. “I hate all of you.”

You threw up your hands. “For the last time, nothing happened!”

Yoongi huffed, and Jungkook shook his head as he jotted down on his notepad “witness refuses to cooperate.”

You gawked at him. “Are you seriously writing that down?”

Jungkook nodded, scribbling dramatically. “Refuses to acknowledge the overwhelming evidence of post-coital carbohydrates-”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, dragging a hand down your face.

Namjoon, looking moments away from actual homicide, turned to Yoongi. “Please arrest him for obstruction.”

Yoongi barely held back a smirk. “Tempting.”

[trulyradicalactivist]

My name is Act. I use She/They/It/Neo pronouns. I have been a radqueer since the original coming, and a part of the pro-para and proship communities before that. This is not a usual pinned post. This is a letter to my community. This blog is designed to support, uplift, and announce all forms of activism for our community and encourage each one of you to begin the revolution. For our identities, for our pride, and for our loved ones.

My call to action is under the cut. I ask you to take the time to read it. Thank you.

For too long, we’ve lived in the shadows of a world that dismisses, marginalizes, and oppresses us. Many wouldn't say oppression. Many downplay what we go through, saying that we’re just trolls taking up minimal space in the digital era. But we have been oppressed. In our own spaces, we’ve had civil wars, fighting over one thing or another, specifically designed to divide us! In spaces beyond our community, we’ve faced not only hostility, but outright discrimination. Told to kill ourselves by cowards who hide behind anonymity, many people who simply desired to be themselves, driven to suicide. Are you not angry? Are you not driven to the brink by what these people have done to us, justified by hatred and misinformation? I'm angry!

We’ve carried the weight of a world that refuses to see us for who we are, and we’ve endured the pain of invisibility and injustice. I refuse to accept that the identities in this community will endure that pain any longer. No more.

This is a call to every single one of you. Whether you’ve been part of this community for years or you’re just now finding your voice, know this: you are not alone. Our strength lies in our connection, our shared experiences, and our collective will to change the minds of people who hate us, to educate, to bring a new era of peace where radqueer is the norm. Everyone thinks the future is radqueer, and I agree, but to make it that way, it takes a community willing to change the present.

We need community and we need action. Not later, not tomorrow, not yesterday, the time hasn't passed and it isn't coming towards us. The time is now.

In the digital age, our voices can and do echo across the world. Activism is not just a tool; it’s a lifeline. It’s where we educate, organize, and amplify. Share your stories, challenge injustice, and build networks of solidarity. Every post, every comment, every shared resource matters. Together, we can flood people’s minds with truth and resistance. We can make a new tomorrow.

But I also recognize the power of individual action, even in isolation. Real life protest does not always mean marching in the streets; it can mean standing firm in your truth, no matter where you are. Writing “radqueer is the future” on a desk, on a bathroom wall. Scattering posters, flyers, stickers in the streets, putting them on benches in parks or sticking them into lamp posts.

Resistance is not a singular act—it’s a lifestyle. It’s choosing, every day, to reject the narratives that tell us we’re less than. It’s refusing to be silent in the face of oppression. It’s demanding change, even when the odds seem insurmountable, and believe me, they certainly seem impossible, but I promise you. They aren't. We have done this before, we will do it again, and again, and again, until we need not fight anymore.

Let’s not forget why we fight. We fight for the right to exist as we are. We fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. We fight for future generations, so they won’t have to endure what we have. And most importantly, we fight because we believe in a world where justice and equality are not ideals but realities.

So, here’s what I ask of you. A few actions, if nothing else.

Be loud. Use your platform, no matter how small, to speak out. Share resources or even create them, talk about your stories, and call others to action. Scream from the rooftops who you are, what you live for, what you fight for.

Be relentless. Don’t let apathy or exhaustion silence you. Take breaks when you need them, but never lose sight of the goal. I know. I know people who hate us break you down, try to make you tired, ruin your mental health. Take breaks. Always take that time for yourself. But a fight waits for nobody, so feel in your heart, even while you aren't fighting, we are. We’re fighting for you.

Be united. This community has shown itself to be a magnet for division, but do you expect to fight while shooting at those fighting with you? Differences in belief aside, differences in opinion on the future, what should be, what shouldn't be, who shouldn't and who should, put them away. We can come back to discuss those when the future isn't against us, when the enemy has laid to rest and we have made a life with them, where they do not want us dead or wish harm upon us. But for now, they do. Together, we are stronger than any force that seeks to divide us, so put away your issues with the person beside you and find that two make a better fight than one ever could.

Be bold. Challenge the status quo, whether it’s online, in your workplace, or in your personal relationships. Change starts with discomfort, and progress begins when we confront what’s wrong. A picrew says radqueer’s aren't allowed to use it? Use it. Make it your profile picture. Do it with flags. Identities. Terms. Pictures. Anything that says you, because of your identity and your beliefs, aren't allowed to use it. Anything that wants to oppress you. Do not accept it.

This is our moment. This is our fight. And we will not stop until the world hears us, sees us, and respects us. I will fight. I will fight for you, for this community, for all of us with identities we cannot share for fear of our income, our lives, our safety.

Justice is what I fight for. What do you fight for? Your family, your friends, the people you love? The right and ability to be yourself? To express yourself the way you desire to? To have the right to change your race, age, gender, species, anything at all, in the court of law? Do you fight for anarchy, for revolution, to tear down the status quo? Then fight.

The revolution begins with us—and it begins now.

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Brendan O'Neill

The lawyers have submitted a 106-page legal application to the home secretary. It wails about how unfair it is that Britain brands Hamas a terror group. Yes, how dare we use the word terrorist to describe a movement that sent thousands of armed hysterics to slit the throats of Jews on 7 October 2023? Hamas is a ‘resistance movement’, the application says, whose aim is to ‘liberate Palestine’. The trouble is, Hamas, that those of us still in possession of a moral compass know what this means: you want to ‘liberate’ the Middle East of its Jews. You want to banish, with savage violence, the Jews from their homeland. And that’s terrorism. Actually, it’s worse: it’s the dream of genocide wrapped in the lie of ‘resistance’.

Hamas’s military wing, the Al-Qassam Brigades, was proscribed in 2001. Its political wing was proscribed in 2021, when the then Tory government decided that the distinction between the two was ‘artificial’. The proscription means it’s a criminal offence for anyone here to be a member of Hamas or to drum up support for it. Waving the Hamas flag and wearing pro-Hamas clothing is a crime, too. Hamas – brace yourselves for this – is now citing the European Convention on Human Rights against the UK government. Your proscription of our lovely resistance movement is an assault on our British supporters’ ‘freedom of speech’, it says.

Look, I am such a free-speech fundamentalist that I even think people should be free to say they like Hamas. Join it? Absolutely not. Fundraise for it? No way. But spout bollocks about it being a ‘resistance movement’? Yes. Such speech is surely better dealt with in the free and rowdy public sphere than in the courts. My preference would be for Cable Street-style fightbacks against Britain’s witless armies of bourgeois and Islamist sympathisers with Hamas’s neo-fascism. Instead of us phoning the police, they should be phoning ambulances – as Mosley found out, that’s the risk you take when you hit our streets and sing the praises of Jew-killers.

Yet this case – of course – is not a plea for free speech. It’s a demand that we buy into Hamas’s vile lie about being a ‘liberation and resistance movement’ that just wants to ‘confront the Zionist project’. It’s a call not for liberty but for submission – the submission of the British government, and by extension British citizens, to Hamas’s frothing hatred for the Jewish nation that it perfidiously disguises as a political challenge to Zionism. This case is of a piece with the punishingly illiberal ideology of ‘Islamophobia’, in that it seeks to ringfence Islamist extremism from our moral judgement. In this case, our moral judgement that Hamas is a terrorist group and that its war on Israel is anti-Semitic barbarism.

Here’s the thing, though: it isn’t only Hamas and its weird lawyers who think the t-word should not be applied to this murderous movement. Polite society is packed with people who refuse to call these terrorists terrorists. Remember when the BBC published that smug, pious explanation for why it doesn’t call Hamas ‘terrorists’? It’s because it’s a ‘loaded word’, it said, and it isn’t our job ‘to tell people who to support and who to condemn’. Who do they think they’re kidding? The Brexit-bashing, Trump-hating BBC has suddenly discovered impartiality? It published that piece just four days after Hamas raped and butchered the Jews of southern Israel. Reith spins in his grave.

[jigeuminunbich]

cherie amour | han dongmin (taesan)

synopsis — in which dongmin finds himself falling head over heels for the regular that comes into his job (at a vintage record shop) every afternoon.

genre — college!au, fem!reader, s2ls (strangers to lovers), and fluff

content — halfway proofread ngl, kinda has a princess & the pauper vibe (reader is quite privileged & goes to an elite college), quite a few awkward pauses and bashful stares, and dongmin can’t flirt for the life of him

word count — 2k

author’s note — first work out of the neo realm, hope you all enjoy!

playing — my cherie amour by stevie wonder, can i call you rose? by thee sacred souls, and all i do is think of you by the jackson 5

A bead of sweat trickled down the side of Dongmin’s face. The rickety fan his boss had found from storage was doing absolutely nothing to shield him from the wrath of the summer heat— and the fact he refused to turn on the air conditioning wasn’t helping him in the slightest either.

Despite feeling like he had been transported to the sixth circle of hell, Dongmin didn’t mind his job, it had actually been a juvenile dream of his to work in a place much like this. Somewhere with artifacts filled with history, antique furniture and decor, a devoted community of customers— and surely, that’s what he got following being hired for this position.

But he definitely wasn’t expecting to be overworked as one of the few underlings for his incompetent boss who had inherited the place and having to endure the smell of what could only be described as vintage.

The continuous buzzing of the fan that whirred beside Dongmin’s propped, beat-up sneakers was muffled for a brief moment as in came one of the meager reasons he decided to put up with his job— only, even.

You.

Following the chime on the door, a wave of heat entered the record shop but you graciously came with it, so Dongmin couldn’t really complain. You greeted him with a smile as he hurriedly straightened in his seat and adjusted his posture stiffly. The smile was returned to the best of his abilities, but he’s sure it came off wonky and jarring.

Silently, you waltzed around the shop. It wasn’t very big, and he’s positive you’ve walked each aisle at least a few dozen times but it still had you coming back every other afternoon.

It was ritualistic for you to stumble into the small-scale record shop nestled between an antique boutique and a genuine crystal shop— Dongmin had become hip to this months ago when he had first began working here. Though, it was obvious to him that you had been doing this a lot longer than his time, judging by the way you interacted with veteran staff and even that dense boss of his.

You were around his age, clear from the cardigan you wore that was proudly embroidered in fancy cursive of what he discovered was your home school— the elite college that rivaled his. It had been an initial thought of his that maybe you were an alum and just liked the comfort that the sweater offered but after miraculously seeing you at a rival game between your two schools’ football teams— he knew for sure that you were close in age.

Unfortunately for him, those were the only details he had found on you. Alleged things about you floated around between his coworkers and to his own ears but he ignored them for solid truth. The truth was, you were clearly a devout music lover from a realm he didn’t know of, a school he could only dream of attending, and a lifestyle he had absolutely no experience in.

“Anything new that you recommend?” At the arriose sound of your voice, Dongmin came to a realization that he had been staring at you for far too long.

Under your curious gaze, he stilled. Nearly forgetting to breathe over the fact you were speaking to him. Another fact he had come to realize, is that you enjoyed your solitude. It wasn’t often that you spoke to him outside of your purchase of a vinyl or the rare CD. But when you did, Dongmin always fell into the same trap as if it was happening for the first time again.

“I—uh— what’s your genre?” He knew this already. You had an affinity for 60s music— he came to conclude from the dozen of vinyls he had previously rung up for you.

You hummed, glancing to the spotty ceiling as you contemplated. “I always go for oldies. Anything recent that you like?” As you asked this, you drew closer to the counter where Dongmin was quickly breaking out into a cold sweat over the fact you were verily nearing closer to him.

Your eyes didn’t waver from him, it was clear that you were genuinely interested in his own opinion.

“Well, I don’t listen to too much recent stuff myself, actually.” He managed to respond, not having the capacity to filter his honesty.

Now opposite of him by the counter, you giggled. Dongmin swore his heart skipped a beat, or two for that matter.

“Well, I guess you’re no help then?” Your voice lilted with humor, your head tilting.

“Heh. No, I guess not…” To Dongmin, he was sure your bout of conversation would end here. You would choose something along the lines of your usual, get rung up with some sort of small talk, and go on about your day while he finished out his shift wallowing about how he wished he could’ve said more to you.

“What’s your genre, then,” you squinted momentarily to double-check his nametag. “Dongmin?”

For a moment, Dongmin had forgotten his name was his own. You watched him blink at you for a few beats before visibly collecting himself.

“Me? Well, I like rock— like Nirvana and My Chemical Romance. But I like easy listening stuff too…”

You nodded, “I assumed just as much.”

Dongmin’s eyebrows shot up into his fringe, eyes wide with surprise. “Really?”

An endeared smile etched onto your lips instantly. “Yeah, every time you’re here they’re always playing over the speakers. But I hear the Carpenters every now and then, too. You have good taste.”

Dongmin fought the flattered expression that attempted to spread across his features, clearing his throat in an effort to swallow his excitement. “Thanks.”

You nodded, a silence floating in the air as you two both seemed to wait for the other to carry on the conversation. With the atmosphere starting to feel cramped, you open your mouth to ease the awkwardness but Dongmin thankfully beats you to it.

“We—uhm— actually just get in some new vinyls that I think you might like…”

You visibly perk up at this. “Did you?”

Dongmin nods, his tone coming off a bit hesitant. “Well, you get a rotation of the same artists, I noticed…”

Your laughter eases the weight on his shoulders, he finds himself smiling fondly as you nod your head in agreement. “No, yeah, I do. I guess I’m quite predictable,”

Dongmin shrugs. “There’s nothing wrong with that. I think your music taste is good too.”

You find yourself smoothing a hand over your jacket, flattered. “Thank you,”

“No problem.”

You both lock eyes for a beat longer than expected, your own being the ones to flit elsewhere as could feel the flutter of butterflies swarm in the base of your belly. Dongmin’s gaze on you is only interrupted when you clear your throat before speaking again.

“Did you want to show them to me?”

“Oh! Yeah, sorry,” As if he had been split from a trance, Dongmin lurches back into reality to begin leading you towards a dusty corner of the shop.

A giggle leaves you as you follow close behind. “No worries.”

It’s safe to say Dongmin did not fabricate that the new selections would be to your liking. You find yourself rifling through the crate carefully, multiple familiar artists’ cover arts calling your name. Dongmin can’t help but admire you as you work your way through the vinyls with pure amazement in your eyes.

“Anything catch your eye?” He gestures toward the basket that you were leisurely searching through.

Your gaze shifts upwards to where Dongmin is standing, sheepishly remembering that he was there. “A lot. I’m supposed to be on a budget for stuff like this but— Oh my god! I’ve been looking for this,” you excitedly pull out a yellowed Lesley Gore vinyl.

Dongmin’s amused laughter catches your attention and you roll your eyes at him before shaking your head. “Damn, why’d you have to know me so well?”

“Heh. I can get you a discount, if you’re interested?” Dongmin approaches you, delivering his sentence carefully to test your reaction.

You jerk away in surprise, shocked that Dongmin would even offer to do that for you. But you can tell he’s genuine as he watches you intently awaiting your response. “No, no. I just need to practice some self-control…”

“You sure? I can’t promise that old guy won’t buy up all the Marvin Gaye in here…” You follow his hands as they skim the top of the distressed and begrimed vinyls, almost like a hypnosis.

A huff leaves you, the memories of your elder competition that most likely had no idea was your competition coming to mind. “Shit— you’re right. Okay, fine. I’ll indulge myself just this once.”

You decide to humor Dongmin and yourself, picking through the crate again to remove several LPs that caught your attention. Dongmin nods, finding confidence in being able to bond with you. After you make your final decision, you both head back over to the counter to finalize your transaction.

“You didn’t have to do this, y’know. I’m sure this is actually against the rules…”

“Nah. It’s fine my boss does it all the time for customers he likes too—“ Dongmin realizes his slip of tongue a little too late, his expression reminding you of a deer in the headlights.

“Really now?” You muse.

“Uh—yeah,” Dongmin coughs. “That’s your total…”

Your eyebrows jump instinctively at the outcome, gladly digging around in your bag for your card. “Damn. I’m glad you like me because inflation is killing me right now, here,”

Dongmin accepts your payment and you don’t miss the way he avoids your eyes bashfully. When everything is squared away, your hefty bag in hand, he decides he’s capable of addressing you head on.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around then?” He visibly forces out, internally hoping it comes across as natural (he doesn’t).

You nod automatically but have a sudden train of thought that you decide to take a chance and verbalize. “Actually… do you get off any time soon?”

The boy across from you is clearly stunned at the inquiry, blinking at you a couple times before answering. “Uh— in about an hour, actually…”

“Cool. I’ll be at the café across the street, if you don’t have anything to do that is… I feel like it’s only right that I repay you…” The last of your sentence trails off as you feel you’re rambling on, but Dongmin couldn’t have looked more interested in you.

“No! I mean, I don’t have anything to do— I’m free, yeah.” Dongmin shuffles, setting himself in a pose that he hoped conveyed how nonchalant he wanted to be but was clearly failing to do so.

You find yourself amused with his antics— a bit flattered as well. “Alright then, see you in an hour?” He nods intently while he watches you back away from the till.

“An hour it is.” He affirms, returning the wave you spare him before the shop’s door chimes again. Promptly, your warmth leaves him to the humidity of the shop. But he holds his pose knowing he’ll be engulfed in it once more.

© jigueminunbich ‘24

[thequeeranachronism]

I hate hate hate how cold and sharp I’ve become after October 7th seeing people I liked and respected posting malicious disinformation after disinformation saying that they can’t possibly be antisemitic while basically spouting the protocols of the elders of Zion.

Seeing how little they actually care about misinformation because they refuse to fact check what they post or if they do fact check and see it’s wrong refuse to believe that and make up conspiracies.

The fucking call outs and harassment campaigns of any Jew who won’t parrot the right lines. Labeling Jews who aren’t Zionists as sneaky crypto-Zionists for talking about leftist antisemitism. Refusing to acknowledge leftist Jews who are Zionists and working towards peace and Palestinian liberation because they don’t fit with goyim’s definition of Zionism.

That this movement has manipulated Jews into hating other Jews. That leftists refuse to see the violence brewing towards Jews. That they can talk to neo Nazis without realizing it for hours and then going oops how silly was I not realizing what they were right away?

That there have already been attacks against Jews by leftists! That we’re constantly being gaslit about how noooo there isn’t any antisemitism in leftist movements and if there is you’re actually wrong and it isn’t antisemitism.

And it’s going to get more violent towards Jews unless leftists actually start taking antisemitism in their movement more seriously. But it doesn’t matter that Jews are being targeted because of what’s going on in Gaza so how dare we be worried. How dare we be afraid.

I’m done I’m so tired and I’m afraid for my family my tribe. Im done arguing with goyim who want to flat out call me a genocide supporter because I know my heart I know I don’t support it and you can’t gaslight me into believe that I do.

[4dkellysworld]

After deciding 'it is done'

This is more of a manifestation themed post (it's a draft from March when I spontaneously felt like writing it but didn't post it) because I felt like it but I'd appreciate if I didn't get any asks about manifestation* (unless I change my mind later) cos I'll share what I can and there's a lot of material available already! You can see my past post on this topic here. For more posts on it, see @4dbarbie-archive and realisophie's posts here and here and there's also some over at @ndjournal in the experience sharing tag.

*Also because I don't want to send mixed messages to the readers of this blog. I see conscious manifestation as a way to challenge & break limitations and concepts from the mind, not to get things in the world (kinda like Neo learning to bend the spoon in the Matrix if you get me lol). The latter will only pull you deeper into ego and the world, which isn't conducive to self-realization (if that's your goal) if you're focused on satisfying ego and the worldly life. If that makes sense and you resonate and agree with that, then we are on the same page but not everyone is and that's okay too, just do what feels right to you. Just sharing my reasoning :)

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

I've been reading this book called Parallel Universes of Self because I read the author Frederick Dodson had an interesting reality shifting experience. I didn't expect to read info on manifestation but they are pretty much the same. I have a few books of his that I'm skimming through out of curiosity and there's some interesting stuff (I might share some other things later, he doesn't just talk about manifestation, but also consciousness, reality and even non-duality).

I thought I'd share the below excerpt because it's explained really well and might help some others. It's also a nice succinct summary of what Ada and Soph talked about for materialization/manifestation as well. I can remember pretty much 95% of the things I've ever "manifested" were from when I acted the way he described after I had decided "it is done". It's easier to do this for things you don't care about because you just end up forgetting about it entirely and then it shows up and you're like 'oh yeah!! nice'.

In the hours, days and weeks after simply rest in the new viewpoint, rest in the fulfilled reality. This means that you don’t try to “make it happen” because you have already claimed it as real. You don’t affirm, visualize, repeat or wait for it. You don’t hope for it to come in some future. Because you have claimed it as already real you don’t even think about it much either. You don’t ask when, how, where it will show up. Instead you simply do what offers itself to you throughout the day, and this will involve commonplace activities. Daily life continues in a natural manner without neediness or lack. Once in awhile you may want to re-feel the body sense of the chosen reality, and enjoy what you have claimed as true, but often not even that is necessary. Furthermore you needn’t be “acting as if” the desired reality is manifest, for that still implies separation. Simply cease to behave in a way that presupposes that it is not already so. You may refuse to ascribe relevance or importance to any events that seem to contradict your newly chosen reality. From the new viewpoint such events may still exist and come up but they are no longer relevant enough to be reacted to and interacted with. They may be the way things are at the moment, but they are no longer the way you are. The corresponding physical manifestation will appear when you stop needing it, chasing after it, looking for it but are instead willingly and lovingly identified with it…not for the sake of “making it manifest” *, but for the sake of experiencing its joy in the here, now and today. *Because trying to make it happen/manifest reinforces the idea/belief that it isn't

This is the same as what 4dbarbie said about getting ego out of the way or as Lester Levenson said, let go and let God. Just let it happen and stop trying to control the process because the more you try, the more you reinforce the fact that it isn't already so. Basically stop putting in effort once you know it is true, just continue knowing with calm and ease that it is the way you want it. Ada also said here:

If you have thoughts like "I need to say my affirmations", "I need to check my state", you're not living in the end but still desiring. When you're able to look at the thing you desire as being something that was once a dream, but now only a memory - you've entered the state of the wish fulfilled. When desire turns into identity, you know you've succeeded in fulfilling yourself.

Yes we're conditioned to think we need to work hard and put effort to earn things in the world but when it comes to manifesting, this sort of mentality will only sabotage and hinder your success. You can literally just decide you have it and then never look back. This sort of mindset can take a bit of time and practice to get used to because it is not something we're used to but the more you practice, the easier it gets.

Here is an excerpt from an astral projection book (I think it's from The Illusion of Method?) I thought was really apt at describing this too. He's talking about AP but you can apply it to manifesting or pretty much anything as well.

Unless you are masochistic, I ask you to reconsider the painful idea of obsessing about time. Bear in mind that results will come whenever they have to, and counting the minutes won't make the outcome arrive faster. It's best if you just forget about it, and accept that it is something that you can't control. You must be patient—most of the time the desired results arrive immediately after giving up control of time. If you are frustrated and/or are afraid of failure, then it means you believe you are in control—and this translates into the feeling that you are responsible for both positive and negative results. Well then, stop thinking that way! Exempting yourself from responsibility is the best course of action there is. As seen in the previous chapter, those who project on command are the ones who couldn’t care less about AP. But the more you obfuscate yourself, the lesser your chances of success —and trust me, you won’t want to get trapped in that vicious cycle. Astral projection works when you stop worrying about failure because you trust that it will happen, whether you “do” something or not.

It’s the same thing: just in the same way that being hasty for sleep to occur keeps us wakeful and alert, being expectant over the OBE will keep us caged in the physical body. If the mind is constantly thinking about the goal, it can easily enter a state of expectancy* and impatience. In such state, the mind is no longer relaxed because expectancy is a state of unrest. This form of tension is what hinders the outcome—thus, the key to being relaxed (i.e., essentially lacking mental tension) is to forget about the goal entirely. If you don’t have the goal in mind you don’t enter a state of expectancy, and therefore you are free from mental tension. *expectancy is the same energy as trying to make something happen.. reinforcing the idea/belief that it isn't so

So, exempt yourself from responsibility means there's nothing more to do because ego is not in control and can do nothing.

[slowcatsworld]

Noel Noa would let his spouse do his eyeliner for him sometimes

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(It’s so canon that he wears eyeliner, I don’t care none of that ‘oh it’s natural’ bs my man is a cat-eye winged baddie)

I doubt he wore it when he was in the slums of France. He probably started using eyeliner regularly when he got recruited to a smaller team, his first real opportunity to change his life. Maybe he wears it because he likes the feeling of empowerment and belonging the dramatic flare the eyeliner brings to him. Maybe he wears it as a safety precaution, something to hide the flaws only he sees, and doesn’t realize it yet. Maybe he wanted to be remembered, to stand out. Not to be identified as the poor, improper, uneducated boy with potential, to be a beast of a football player that stands next to no one. A man that was worth more than the dirty slums. If they wouldn’t remember his name or his abilities, they would remember the cold, (desperate) hungry gleam in his amber eyes encased in a cut of harsh black liner.

Whatever the case, the eyeliner has stuck with him for years. Even you, his spouse that shares a home with him, hardly see Noel without it. Due to his profession, his training and competition often ensured that Noel would rise out of bed before you and sink back into bed after you. You don’t mind though, treasuring your time with Noel comes in small but rewarding moments.

Like this morning.

Noel was to be at the airport in a few hours to fly to Japan from Germany with his team, Bastard Munchen. Apparently their presence is required for the next phase of the ‘Blue Lock’ program. You heard of it, having one foot in the football world at all times because of Noel; however no one in the world would have expected the upset that was the U-20 game held in Japan a couple weeks ago.

You weren’t too fond of the idea of Noel staying at the Blue Lock facility for the foreseeable future, and you could tell by his attitude neither was he. This ‘Neo Egoist League’ he mentioned sounded like one big round robin experiment to find players for the U-20 World Cup. Something only weeks away. The whole thing was like a dream, you just couldn’t tell if it would be a good one or a bad one. Seems as though the whole world will have to figure out together as very few are privy to know what is happening inside Blue Lock as of now.

Despite his protests in favor of you sleeping in, you decided to accompany and see Noel off.

“Noel, I’m not able to come with you. This will be the last morning I get to spend with you for weeks.” You stress to the figure washing his face in your shared bathroom.

“You still have to go to work later today, you need to sleep. No one wants to deal with an employer that can’t keep their eyes open for five minutes.” Noel calls.

“I’ll be fine, I’m a grown woman who can handle a little sleepiness,” You groan and stride to the bathroom. “You’re one to talk on the matter in fact, I can see your eye bags from here.”

The two of you lock eyes and enter a silent competition. Noel refuses to admit his sleep has been plagued with thoughts about the Blue Lock situation and wishes for you to return to bed. You are unrelenting in your efforts of spending this time with him and do not want to lay in a bed getting colder by the minute.

Noel sighs. Victory. You 1, Noel 0.

“Perhaps then you should do my eyeliner today, to lessen the appearance of my eye bags to your satisfactory.” He mumbles and holds his hand out with the marker in tow. An olive branch. A gleaming smile breaks upon your face.

There was something very private, very intimate for Noel when he allowed for you to do his eyeliner. Him leaning against the counter facing you, you between his legs holding his face. It was about trust. It was about vulnerability. Even if Noel wouldn’t admit it to you, he was giving you access to that little boy covered in dirt and bruises all those years ago. You knew it too, the way his face would lean into the skin of your palm as you held him steady. The way his shoulders would relax and his posture would slack. The way his eyes would close and twitch ever so slightly when they felt the ink from the marker. You knew you were holding the boy right now, not the man.

You’ve seen the boy a good handful of times. In the crux of the night when Noel would hold your body closer to him. In the evening husk when you would massage his body and play with his thick tufts of white hair. In the middle of the day; when you could hear the smile in his voice even if it wasn’t present in his face as he called you on your lunch break. And in the morning, when you did his eyeliner.

And you were oh so fragile with him. He appreciated it greatly, the warm feeling that flowed through his veins. It complimented the confidence the eyeliner gave him perfectly.

Once you finished you pressed a chaste kiss to his nose, then one on his lips. He sighed slightly at the feeling of your lips touching. The momentary solace building his energy that the night had sapped away from him instead of rejuvenating home with. You rubbed your thumbs through his wispy white eyebrow hairs and waited. Noel slowly opened his eyes, and looked at the small smile adorning your face.

His eye bags were still present, he still carried that essence of tiredness. But there was more life in his eyes. They glowed brighter, more whimsical than before. It was the perfect blend of boy and man.

“Thank you, Y/N.” The man said. For everything. The boy thought.

He couldn’t verbalize it, not now. His emotions would over take him, and he can’t afford that at this moment. Not when he’s about to part from you for so long. He had to be the man.

You understood though, you always do.

“Always, my love.”

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AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

I HOPE WHOEVER READS THIS EATS THIS UP BC I PUT MY WHOLE SOUL INTO COOKING THIS

Mwah 😽

8.02.24