dissimuler
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"Holy shit, you're a lot hotter in person," Jisung said, staring at Minho in shock.
Jeongin sighed and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. Jisung looked mortified at the sound of his own words.
"You saw me in person yesterday," said Minho, patience thin as the freezing air.
"Your face was kind of melting then," Jisung defended.
(or: Minho has a cabin in the woods. Jisung knocks on the door.)
Bookmarked by dissimuler
01 Jan 2026
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At 2 AM on a freezing December night, Han Jisung's world ends with a single email. Three years of sacrifice, of sleepless nights and abandoned friendships, all for a scholarship rejection delivered in cold, automated text. He doesn't mean to blast melancholic music through paper-thin apartment walls. He doesn't mean to fall apart so spectacularly that his neighbor storms in ready to fight.
What he definitely doesn't expect is for that same neighbor—sharp-tongued, perpetually scowling Lee Minho, to take one look at the disaster of tissues and tears and... help him.
One phone number becomes a lifeline. A coffee shop job becomes survival. And somehow, the man who showed up to complain about noise keeps showing up, period. Same order, same table, same inexplicable concern wrapped in sarcasm and single-word text responses.Jisung tells himself they're just neighbors. Just friends. Just two people whose lives accidentally collided at rock bottom. But every shared walk home through snow-covered streets, every dry comment that somehow feels like care, every moment Minho looks at him like he's worth more than a rejection letter, it's building into something Jisung isn't sure he's brave enough to name.
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Bookmarked by dissimuler
29 Dec 2025
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“How is it different?” Minho asks, and he knows he shouldn’t push this, knows he’s treading dangerous ground, but seven years of restraint is crumbling. “When he says it versus when I say it?”
Jisung stares at him for a long moment. There’s something in his eyes—confusion, maybe realization, maybe fear. His fingers start shredding the napkin in front of him, tearing it into smaller and smaller pieces. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft. Careful. “Well. That’s different.”
Minho feels something crack in his chest. “Different how?”
Jisung’s eyes meet his, and there’s an apology there that Minho doesn’t want to see. “Because we’re best friends.”
Minho watches his best friend fall for someone else.
Bookmarked by dissimuler
26 Dec 2025
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Minho would’ve chuckled at the big, black fuzzy caterpillar of a hat on the guy onstage if he hadn’t gotten stuck on his bright, round eyes. Or his soft pink-tinted cheeks. Or the awkward, but cute way his feet nervously turned inward as he adjusted the strap of his guitar. Or the gentle twinge of brunette slipping over his forehead.
Maybe the array of buttons on his jacket was part of it too.
“Hi, I’m-” Mic feedback screeched and the poor guy winced as he scrunched his face. “Sorry…I’m HAN. Han Jisung is my real name, but you know, needed a stage name.” He bit his lip and slid his fingers over the fret of his red electric guitar. “It’s bingo night? That’s cool.”
He was so awkward that Minho wanted to eat him. In an endearing way, not like a cannibal or something. Though his clipboard was meant for taking bingo attendance, Minho couldn’t help but pencil in “Han Jisung” above the margins, just so he wouldn’t forget.
Bookmarked by dissimuler
26 Dec 2025
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let me be ('cause i've been at it for so long) by linothighbiter
Fandoms: Stray Kids (Band)
09 Dec 2025
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Jisung unbuttoned his coat that was digging into his throat. He could almost feel it cutting through the thin, useless skin of his neck, tearing through arteries and veins to reach their destination of covering his every breath, blocking his airway. He couldn’t breathe.
He couldn’t breathe-he couldn’t breathe-he couldn’t breathe-
No. No, no, no, no, nononon-not again. Not again. Please. Please.
Jisung is doing good. Until he isn't.
Bookmarked by dissimuler
23 Dec 2025