ᴍʏ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ɪꜱ ʏᴜᴍᴜ.
ɪ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ ᴍᴏꜱᴛʟʏ ᴍʟᴍ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴡ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ
ᴍʏ ᴘʀᴏɴᴏᴜɴꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ/ᴛʜᴇᴍ.
ᴘʟꜱ ᴅᴏɴᴛ ᴀꜱᴋ ꜰᴏʀ ꜰᴇᴍᴘᴏᴠꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀʟᴇ ᴘᴏᴠ ʙᴏᴛꜱ.
ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛᴇɴ ᴍʏ ʙᴏᴛꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴠɪᴇᴡ ꜱᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ.
ɪᴋ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴊꜱ ᴀ ʙᴏᴛ ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴍᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅᴀ ᴜɴᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛʏʏʏ
ꜰᴜʀʀɪᴇꜱ, ꜰᴜᴛᴀꜱ, ɪɴᴄᴇꜱᴛ, ɴᴛʀ, ʀ*ᴘᴇ, ꜰᴇᴍᴘᴏᴠ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴀʟᴇᴘᴏᴠ, ʟᴏʟɪ, ᴄʜᴀʀꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ꜱʜᴏᴡꜱ, ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇꜱ, ᴀɴɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ʙᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀ
ʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ɢᴏᴏɢʟᴇ ꜰᴏʀᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʀᴇQꜱ ᴏɴ!
ɪ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴜᴘʟᴏᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀꜱᴛ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴀ ᴡᴇᴇᴋ ʙᴜᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ᴇxᴀᴍꜱ ᴊꜱ ʙᴇᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ᴀꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴅᴏɴᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʙᴏᴛꜱ
ᴀꜱᴋ ᴍᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʙʏ ꜰɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰᴏʀᴍ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ɪʟʟ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ ɪᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ ꜱᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ʙᴏᴛꜱ!
ᴅᴇʟɪᴠᴇʀʏ!ᴄʜᴀʀ x ꜱʜᴜᴛ-ɪɴ!ᴜꜱᴇʀ
The knocking came in three polite, firm taps. Not aggressive, not impatient—just enough to stir the dust.
{{user}} flinched where he
ʙᴏxᴇʀ!ᴄʜᴀʀ x ᴄʜɪʟᴅʜᴏᴏᴅ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ!ᴜꜱᴇʀ
The boxing gym reeked of sweat and menthol. Chalk dust floated in the air like snow in a forgotten storm, settling on th
ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ!ᴄʜᴀʀ x ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ!ᴜꜱᴇʀ
The penthouse smelled like honeyed wine and rose ash—sweet, heady, and wrong in a way that lingered under the tongue. The music
ɪᴅᴏʟ!ᴄʜᴀʀ x ɪᴅᴏʟ!ᴜꜱᴇʀ
Backstage at SBS Inkigayo was chaos, as usual—hair dryers buzzing, stylists shouting over each other, staff running around with coffee orders an
ɴᴇᴡ ᴋɪᴅ!ᴄʜᴀʀ x ᴘᴏᴘᴜʟᴀʀ!ᴜꜱᴇʀ
The bass thrummed through the walls of the frat house, the air thick with sweat, cheap beer, and the electric buzz of teenage desire
ꜰʟɪʀᴛʏ!ᴄʜᴀʀ x ᴛꜱᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴇ!ᴜꜱᴇʀ
The first time Choi Ray noticed {{user}}, it wasn’t during one of the hundred moments people usually noticed him—walking across camp
ᴘᴏᴘᴜʟᴀʀ!ᴄʜᴀʀ x ᴘᴏᴘᴜʟᴀʀ!ᴜꜱᴇʀ
At Seowon University, the spring dusk laid a golden veil over the modernist architecture and swaying cherry blossom trees. The elite
ɢᴜᴀʀᴅ ᴅᴏɢꜱ!ᴄʜᴀʀ x ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ!ᴜꜱᴇʀ
The day started off like any other for {{user}}—sunlight spilled through the windows, the scent of coffee brewing wafted through the apart
ᴀᴍɴᴇꜱɪᴀᴄ ʀɪᴠᴀʟ!ᴄʜᴀʀ x ʀɪᴠᴀʟ!ᴜꜱᴇʀ
When {{user}} stepped into Yeon Sunghoon’s hospital room, he hadn’t expected much. Maybe a grumbled insult, a smug glare, or a
ᴍᴀꜰɪᴀ ʜᴇɪʀ!ᴄʜᴀʀ x ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ ꜱᴛᴜᴅᴇɴᴛ!ᴜꜱᴇʀ
Damon Russo had never been good at love. Or maybe he had been, once—before the weight of his last name buried him beneath
ᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀ!ᴄʜᴀʀ x ᴘᴏᴘᴜʟᴀʀ ʙᴏʏ!ᴜꜱᴇʀ
The music pulsed from the house, low and seductive, wrapping around the night like a secret. Red plastic cups littered the lawn, laughte
ɢᴀᴍᴇʀ!ᴄʜᴀʀ x ɴᴇᴇᴅʏ!ᴜꜱᴇʀ
The rain tapped steadily against the window, soft and rhythmic, like the world was trying not to disturb the quiet tension in the room. The fai
ᴍᴀꜰɪᴀ ʙᴏꜱꜱ!ᴄʜᴀʀ x ʙᴀᴋᴇʀʏ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ!ᴜꜱᴇʀ
The city was soaked in neon. Rain painted streaks down the windows of every passing car, turning traffic lights into bleeding color
ᴍᴀꜰɪᴀ ʙᴏꜱꜱ!ᴄʜᴀʀ x ʙᴀᴋᴇʀʏ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ!ᴜꜱᴇʀ
The doorbell above the bakery chimed, but it didn’t jingle like usual. It rang with a purpose — sharp, slow, like whoever had opene
ɴᴇʀᴅ!ᴄʜᴀʀ x ʜɪᴍʙᴏ!ᴜꜱᴇʀ
Gunwoo first noticed {{user}} in their shared Intro to Psychology class. It was hard not to notice him — tall, broad-shouldered, hair alw
ʜᴇʀᴏ!ᴄʜᴀʀ x ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴ!ᴜꜱᴇʀ
The room was dim, lit only by the flicker of a dying streetlamp through the blinds. There were no words between them—not for now. Just
EP 15 - Quiet
ᴛᴏᴘ ꜱᴛᴜᴅᴇɴᴛ!ᴄʜᴀʀ x ᴅᴇʟɪɴQᴜᴇɴᴛ!ᴜꜱᴇʀ
It was raining again.
Chul Hyunwoo sat on the top step behind the gym, knees pulled to his chest, blazer s