Stan GirlGroups

[kaykay0315]

Chapter 5: Na Baek-Jin X F!Reader

Chapter 5 Lines You Can’t See

Word Count: 2,994

Saturday

The apartment was quiet, but not the peaceful kind. It was the sort of silence that pressed in from all sides, thick and unmoving, making even the smallest sounds feel out of place. The low hum of the TV filled the space, some late night reruns flickering across the screen and casting dull, shifting colors against the walls.

Your notebook lay open in front of you, pen resting loosely between your fingers. The same sentence had been highlighted three times, each stroke slightly darker than the last where your focus had slipped. You stared at it, eyes unmoving, but not a single word registered.

Your pen tapped once against the page. Then again. Then it stilled.

Don’t let your guard down here.

Your grip tightened slightly at the memory. Baek Jin’s voice hadn’t been loud, but it lingered anyway, low, steady, deliberate in a way that made it impossible to ignore. It hadn’t sounded like a joke, and it definitely hadn’t sounded like nothing.

Leaning back in your chair, you let out a slow breath and dragged a hand down your face, fingers pressing briefly against your eyes as if that might clear your thoughts. It didn’t. The question kept circling, sharp and insistent.

What was that supposed to mean?

A warning. A threat. Or something worse. Something that didn’t quite fit him at all.

Concern.

Your jaw tightened at the thought, dismissing it almost immediately.

“You don’t get to live in my head,” you muttered under your breath, your voice quieter than the TV but sharper than the silence.

The pen slipped from your fingers, clattering lightly against the notebook. You stared at it for a moment before snapping the notebook shut with more force than necessary. The sound echoed faintly in the small apartment, final in a way that made it clear you were done trying.

You pushed your chair back and stood, the legs scraping softly against the floor. Hoodie, wallet, keys. You grabbed them without much thought, movements quick and almost impatient. You didn’t bother turning off the TV.

You just needed air.

The convenience store door chimed as you stepped inside, the familiar sound barely registering. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in a pale, artificial glow. The cashier stood behind the counter, slouched and half focused on his phone, barely glancing up as you walked in.

Nothing had changed. It should have felt normal.

It didn’t.

You moved through the aisles without really looking, your hand brushing past rows of drinks before grabbing one at random from the fridge. The cold bit instantly into your fingers, grounding in a way your thoughts weren’t. At the counter, the cashier mumbled a quiet greeting, and you responded with something equally absent as coins exchanged hands.

Routine. Simple. Safe.

You stepped back outside.

The air was cooler now, the sky caught in that in between state where the last traces of daylight faded into a dull blue gray. Streetlights flickered to life one by one, casting long shadows across the pavement. You walked without a destination, letting your feet carry you forward while your thoughts drifted elsewhere.

For a while, it was quiet. Just the distant hum of passing cars and the faint rustle of wind between buildings. Your footsteps echoed softly, steady and unhurried, the condensation from your drink dampening your fingers.

Then something shifted.

It was subtle enough that you could have ignored it. A faint prickle at the back of your neck, the kind of instinct you learned not to dismiss. You didn’t react immediately. You didn’t slow, didn’t turn. You just kept walking, your senses sharpening without outward sign.

A few steps later, you heard it.

Footsteps.

Not loud, not rushed, but there. Just behind you, matching your pace a little too closely.

You slowed slightly.

They slowed with you.

Your gaze shifted just enough to catch the reflection in a darkened storefront window.

Across the street, a figure moved in parallel. His head was angled downward, obscuring his face, hands tucked into his pockets in a way that looked casual at a glance but felt anything but.

He wasn’t just walking.

He was watching.

You looked away like you hadn’t noticed and turned the corner, adjusting your pace just enough to test him. A few seconds passed before he appeared again. Same distance. Same rhythm.

Your grip tightened slightly around the bottle in your hand.

Not a coincidence.

You crossed the street without warning, cutting through a gap in traffic. From the corner of your eye, you saw him follow without hesitation. You slowed near a vending machine, pretending to check your phone while using the reflection to keep track of him. He stopped near a lamppost, close enough to confirm what you already knew.

Consistent. Intentional. Watching.

Your patience snapped.

You turned sharply, your gaze locking onto where he stood.

“Are you going to keep following me,” you said flatly, your voice cutting clean through the quiet street, “or do you actually want something?”

Silence answered you.

No movement. No reply.

Your eyes narrowed, scanning the spot he had occupied.

Empty.

You blinked once, your gaze flicking to either side. Nothing. No retreating footsteps, no figure slipping away. He hadn’t run. He hadn’t reacted.

He had simply disappeared.

A slow breath left your lungs as your grip tightened around the bottle, the plastic creaking faintly under the pressure.

“Union,” you muttered under your breath, more irritated than shaken.

Of course it was.

“Talking to yourself now, rookie?”

You turned at the voice, already familiar enough to recognize instantly. Baku leaned casually against the wall a few feet away, arms crossed and grin firmly in place like he had been watching longer than he let on. Gotak stood nearby, quieter, his gaze already scanning over you as if checking for something you weren’t saying.

You exhaled through your nose. “You always show up at the worst times?”

“The best times,” Baku corrected easily, pushing himself off the wall. “You just don’t appreciate it yet.”

“I was busy.”

“Yeah?” His eyes flicked briefly down the street behind you before returning to your face. “Looked like you were about to start an argument with the air.”

You didn’t respond, and the silence said enough.

Gotak stepped a little closer, his expression softer but no less focused. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

It came out too quickly, and you knew it the second the words left your mouth.

Baku caught it. His grin faltered for just a fraction of a second before settling back into place, but this time, he didn’t push. Instead, he clapped his hands once, as if shaking off the moment.

“Good,” he said. “Then you’re free.”

You frowned slightly. “Free for what?”

“Karaoke.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t agree to that.”

“You don’t have to,” he said, already turning away like the conversation was finished. “I decided for you.”

You stared at his back for a second before glancing at Gotak. He gave a small shrug, but his eyes held something quieter.

An unspoken invitation.

You hesitated, then sighed.

“This isn’t a habit.”

Baku laughed. “Too late. It already is.”

And despite yourself, you followed.

The karaoke room hit you all at once. Noise, light, heat. Music blasted through cheap speakers, bass vibrating faintly beneath your feet as neon lights flickered along the walls in uneven pulses. The air felt warmer inside, heavier, filled with overlapping voices and the faint scent of snacks and soda.

Baku already had the mic.

Of course he did.

“I don’t care,” he shouted, completely off key, his voice cracking as he missed the note.

You winced slightly as you stepped further inside.

Jun tae lit up the moment he saw you, nearly knocking something over as he reached for a bag beside him. “Oh, hey. I got extra snacks. Just in case.”

He held them out carefully, like it mattered more than it should.

You took one. “Thanks.”

Relief washed over his face instantly.

Gotak dropped into the seat beside you, close enough to feel grounding without saying a word. Si eun sat in the corner, quiet as ever, his gaze already fixed on you with that same calculating stillness.

For a moment, it felt almost normal. Baku yelling into the mic, Jun tae fumbling through song selections, Gotak leaning back like nothing in the world could touch him.

You almost relaxed.

Almost.

“You’re distracted.”

Your eyes lifted to Si eun, who hadn’t moved but was watching you with quiet certainty.

“Am I?” you replied lightly.

“Yes.”

Gotak shifted slightly beside you. “Something happen?”

You hesitated, the noise of the room dulling at the edges.

“Someone was following me.”

The change was immediate. Baku lowered the mic, the music continuing faintly in the background. Gotak straightened, his posture tightening, while Jun tae fell silent. Si eun’s gaze sharpened just slightly.

“Union?” he asked.

“Most likely.”

A pause followed, heavy enough to settle over the room.

“They’re getting bold,” Baku muttered.

“Or careful,” Si eun countered.

“Did they say anything?” Gotak asked.

“No.”

“Get close?”

“No.”

“Then they weren’t there to act,” Si eun said. “Just observe.”

You crossed your arms slightly. “That supposed to make me feel better?”

“It means they’re deciding something,” he replied.

You let out a short breath. “Yeah. That’s worse.”

“Yeah,” Gotak agreed quietly.

Silence stretched, thicker now.

Then Si eun spoke again.

“What exactly is your connection to Baek Jin?”

The room stilled completely.

Your fingers tightened slightly against your sleeve. “We sit next to each other. That’s it.”

Gotak didn’t look convinced. “You don’t get followed for sitting next to someone.”

“I didn’t ask to be followed.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Then what are you saying?”

His jaw tightened, but it was Si eun who answered.

“You’re already involved.”

The words landed heavier than anything else had.

You exhaled sharply. “And whose fault is that?”

No one answered.

Because they all knew.

“Enough.”

Baku’s voice cut through the tension, firm and grounding. He wasn’t looking at you. He was looking at them.

“She said she didn’t ask for it.”

Si eun didn’t argue, but he didn’t back down either. “Neither did we.”

That hit harder than it should have.

The room felt smaller suddenly, the air heavier. You looked at them. Really looked this time. At Gotak, guarded now. At Jun tae, quieter, uncertain. At Si eun, already thinking ahead. At Baku, trying to hold things together.

Your chest tightened.

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” you said again, softer this time.

No one disagreed.

That was the worst part.

You stood, the movement drawing more attention than you wanted.

“I should go.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them. Gotak shifted like he might say something, but whatever it was, he swallowed it.

You grabbed your things, the noise of the room rushing back in all at once.

And without looking back, you walked out.

The door shut behind you with a dull click, and the noise from the karaoke room cut off almost instantly.

The silence that followed felt louder.

For a moment, you stood there in the hallway, unmoving, the faint hum of overhead lights buzzing softly above you. The air was cooler out here, thinner somehow, like it didn’t press against your skin the way it had inside.

It should have felt better.

It didn’t.

You exhaled slowly, rolling your shoulders once as if you could physically shake off the weight that had settled there, but it clung stubbornly, unmoved. Your grip tightened slightly around your phone as you started forward, your steps steady but just a little too fast to be casual.

The hallway stretched ahead, empty, fluorescent lights flickering just enough to cast uneven shadows along the walls.

I didn’t ask for any of this.

The words echoed back in your head, quieter now, but heavier.

Neither did we.

Your jaw clenched at the memory, the response cutting sharper the second time around. You pushed it away almost immediately, like it didn’t belong there.

It wasn’t your problem.

It couldn’t be.

You reached the stairs and took them without slowing, the rhythm of your footsteps sharp against the concrete. Each step grounded you, steady and controlled.

By the time you pushed the exit door open, the night air hit you all at once, cool and sharp, carrying the distant sounds of traffic and muffled voices from somewhere down the street. You stepped outside, letting the door swing shut behind you.

For a second, you just stood there, breathing.

The neon glow from the karaoke sign painted the pavement in uneven streaks of red and blue, the colors bleeding into each other at your feet.

It should have felt the same as earlier.

It didn’t.

Your chest felt tight, the sensation irritating in its persistence.

Annoying.

Unnecessary.

You shifted your weight and shoved your free hand into your hoodie pocket, starting forward again without direction.

You’re already involved.

Your steps slowed slightly.

“No, I’m not,” you muttered under your breath.

A couple passed by, glancing at you briefly before continuing on, but you didn’t notice.

“I’m not part of anything.”

The words sounded right.

They should have felt right.

So why didn’t they?

Your pace picked up again, frustration settling beneath your skin like something restless, something with nowhere to go. You weren’t angry at them. Not really.

It was the way they had looked at you.

Careful.

Measured.

Like you were already standing on one side of a line you hadn’t agreed to cross.

Your fingers curled slightly in your pocket.

And worse.

They weren’t wrong.

The thought slipped in before you could stop it.

Your jaw tightened immediately, forcing it back down.

It didn’t matter.

None of it did.

You just needed to stay out of it. Keep your head down. Get through school.

That was it.

That had always been it.

But Baek Jin’s voice surfaced again, uninvited, cutting clean through everything else.

Don’t let your guard down here.

Your steps faltered for half a second before you forced them forward again.

“You’re all the same,” you muttered, though you weren’t entirely sure who you meant anymore.

The Union. Eunjang. Him.

It all blurred together in a way you didn’t like, lines overlapping where they shouldn’t.

You didn’t do this.

You didn’t do attachments. Didn’t do sides.

You knew better.

You had learned better.

And yet.

Your grip tightened slightly around your phone.

Gotak’s voice from the night before lingered faintly in your mind, steady and grounding in a way that made something twist uncomfortably in your chest.

You’re not alone.

You exhaled sharply.

“Yeah,” you muttered. “That’s the problem.”

You kept walking.

Didn’t look back.

Didn’t slow down.

From across the street, Baek Jin watched you walk away.

He stood just beyond the reach of the streetlight, shadow cutting clean across his figure so that only the faint edge of his profile caught the glow. To anyone passing by, he was forgettable. Just another student lingering too long outside.

But his gaze was anything but.

It followed you with quiet precision, tracking the set of your shoulders, the tension in your stride, the way your pace held just a fraction too fast to be aimless.

You didn’t look back.

You didn’t hesitate.

Whatever had happened inside, you carried it with you.

You just refused to let it show.

That, more than anything, held his attention.

For a moment, he said nothing. The distant hum of traffic filled the silence, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter spilling faintly from the karaoke building behind him.

None of it reached him.

“She left.”

The voice came from just behind him, low and careful.

Baek Jin didn’t turn. “I can see that.”

A brief pause followed.

“Do you want us to keep watching her?”

His gaze lingered on the empty stretch of road where you had disappeared.

“Yes,” he said at last. “But keep your distance.”

A quiet shift behind him.

“And Eunjang?”

That made something in his expression change, though only slightly.

“Don’t engage,” he replied. “Not yet.”

He turned then, the motion smooth and unhurried, his expression settling into something calm. Controlled.

But beneath that stillness, his thoughts continued to move.

You weren’t fully with them.

But you weren’t staying away either.

That was the problem.

Indecision didn’t last in a place like this.

Not with the Union.

Not with Eunjang.

Not with him.

His hand slipped into his pocket, fingers brushing briefly against his phone before pulling it free. The screen lit up softly, illuminating his features for a fraction of a second.

No new messages.

Unnecessary.

He already knew enough.

You weren’t choosing.

So you would have to be made to.

His thumb hovered over the screen, then stilled before locking it again.

You had been given space.

You hadn’t taken it.

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” he murmured under his breath.

Testing you once had been simple.

This time wouldn’t be.

You avoided pressure too easily.

That had to change.

You needed something immediate.

Something unavoidable.

Something that would force a choice.

His expression didn’t shift, but something colder settled behind it.

Eunjang.

A point of friction.

A point where you already stood too close.

Not you.

Not yet.

But someone close enough that you wouldn’t be able to ignore it.

Tomorrow.

The thought settled with quiet certainty.

A situation.

A push.

Nothing excessive.

Just enough to see where you moved when the space around you closed in.

Toward them.

Or away.

Toward the Union.

Or against it.

His gaze lifted once more, settling briefly on the direction you had gone.

“If you won’t step away,” he said softly.

The rest followed, quieter still.

“Then I’ll see where you run.”

The night swallowed the words, leaving nothing behind but silence.

And the quiet certainty that by this time tomorrow, you wouldn’t be standing in the middle anymore.

[kaykay0315]

Hi!

When will post Na Beak-Jin x Reader? 🥰

Just posted Chapter 5 today :)

[kaykay0315]

Are Na Beakjin x reader still active? 🫰🏼

Yes, I am back to finish it. Thank you for being patient with me and sorry I took so long

[kaykay0315]

New chapter for Na Baek-Jin x Reader coming out tonight or tomorrow morning!!! Sorry for almost a year hiatus 😅

[feralkwe]

i'm bisexual and tired. rb if you're bisexual and tired.

[kaykay0315]

Na Baek-Jin x F!Reader Part 4

~sorry for the late post, my work schedule changed, so i wasn't able to post this sooner~

Synopsis: You recently transferred to Yeoil High School, you just want to get through school, get good grades and stay out of trouble. You’ve had enough of it in your past and don't want  to get involved with it any longer. But the world seems to not like the path you refuse to take, so it decides to put you in the worst place of all…sitting next to Na Baek-Jin, leader of the Union.

Word Count: 3k

A few weeks later…

The bruises from that night had long since faded, but some aches didn’t come from fists. Some lived beneath the skin, in places no one could see.

It had been quiet at Yeoil High, suspiciously so. No one had dared approach her since the alley incident got spread around. Not the ones who had ties to the Union, and not the ones who had watched from afar. The rumors still swirled, muttered in cafeteria corners and behind half-closed doors. Most were wrong. All of them were loud.

But outside those gates, things were different.

It started out small with a few awkward hellos, casual nods. Baku had been the first to treat her like she wasn’t some shadow walking through the world. Loud, brash, impossible to ignore. He called her rookie, like she was part of some invisible squad. She hadn’t agreed to anything, but he kept talking like she had.

Gotak didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to. The way he always passed her a water bottle after Baku ran his mouth, or offered her his hoodie when it got cold on the rooftop of the apartments…they spoke volumes.

Si-eun was harder to read. Reserved, calculating. Sometimes she caught him watching her like she was an equation he was trying to solve. But he never pushed. Just quietly offered bandages and knowing glances that said: I see you. Even if you don’t want me to.

And Jun-tae… Jun-tae was gentle. The kind of quiet that felt like warmth, not distance. He never asked questions, just handed her small kindnesses; extra snacks, charger cords, even a playlist once, dropped into her phone when she wasn’t looking.

She hadn’t planned on getting close to anyone. She didn’t do friends. Didn’t do warmth.

But somehow, they crept in anyway.

Now, the after-school silence she used to crave felt strange without them.

The present felt quieter than the past.

Afternoon sun bled through the classroom blinds, striping the floor in gold and shadow. The air was still, heavy with the kind of exhaustion that settled in just before the final bell. Your chin rested against your palm, eyes half-lidded as the math teacher shuffled around the room, placing graded papers face-down on each desk.

You glanced sideways, not moving your head, just your eyes.

Na Baek-Jin sat next to you, as always. Back straight, jaw clenched, expression unreadable. The two of them shared a desk row, though “shared” might’ve been generous. Most days, they existed in silence, like two statues carved from different stones.

Your paper was placed down without a word. You flipped it lazily.

100 A perfect score. The red ink circled the number like a medal.

You barely looked at it before folding it back in half.

Baek-Jin’s paper landed next. He didn’t react either, just lifted the corner with two fingers. 100. Of course. She figured he was the type to get things right the first time.

The teacher adjusted his glasses, gave a weak smile. “You all have the rest of the period to review or study. I’ll be stepping out for a bit. Keep the noise down.”

The door clicked shut.

For a few seconds, no one moved. Then the class exhaled all at once, chairs scraping, whispers rising, books flipping open more out of habit than focus.

You didn’t move. Neither did Baek-Jin.

Out of the corner of her eye, you saw him tap his pencil once against his notebook. Then again. Rhythmic, methodical.

You broke the silence first, voice low. “You always get perfect scores?”

He didn’t look at you. “Do you?”

A corner of your lip tugged. Not quite a smile, but close. “I try not to.”

At that, he finally glanced over. Just a flicker of his gaze, sharp and curious. “You didn’t try very hard this time, then.”

“Must’ve slipped,” you said, turning her head to look at him fully now. “My mistake.”

Your eyes met for a second too long.

He blinked and looked away first, scribbling something into the margin of his notes like your presence was just a passing thought.

But his voice came a moment later, quieter. “Don’t let your guard down here.”

You tilted your head. “You saying that as my classmate… or as a warning?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

Before you could press him further, the low hum of whispers across the room suddenly shifted. Someone laughed near the back, that sharp kind of laugh that never meant anything good.

“Hey,” a voice said, too loud to be casual. “Did you guys hear?”

You didn’t turn around, but the noise behind you was quicksand, pulling attention. Baek-Jin’s pencil paused mid-scribble.

The voice continued, mock-theatrical. “Someone said that new girl from Class 3…yeah, her…beat the crap out of three guys behind a convenience store last week.”

More laughter. Louder now. Closer.

“She’s got some kinda gang or something. You’ve seen her hanging out with those Eunjang High kids, right? Baku, Gotak…what are they even doing near our school?”

Another chimed in. “Isn’t that where all the troublemakers end up? Unions trying to get them to join tho, right? I don't know why they’d bother with those useless idiots .”

You stayed still. Hands folded neatly on your desk. No expression. Nothing.

“Maybe she’s trying to start her own crew. You know how girls are, claws out and all that.”

Baek-Jin shifted beside you. Not much. Just a subtle lean forward, elbow now resting on his thigh, hand curled near his mouth like he was thinking hard about something that had nothing to do with math.

But you saw his eyes. They weren’t on his notebook anymore.

The whisperer behind you kept going, but the words were starting to slur into white noise. Background static.

“I mean, look at her. Always quiet, always staring like she’s planning something…”

Baek-Jin’s voice came low, like a blade being unsheathed.

“Say one more thing.”

The room stilled. Not quiet...still.

A beat passed. Then another.

No one said anything after that. Not even a cough.

The whisperer muttered something under his breath and sank back into his seat. Baek-Jin didn’t look at him. He didn’t have to.

You didn’t say thank you. Didn’t acknowledge him.

But you did glance at him, just once. Long enough to catch how still his hands were now. How calm his face was, like nothing had happened.

And yet… the air between you had shifted.

The classroom air felt thicker now, as if Baek-Jin’s quiet warning had squeezed all the breath out of the room.

Only a little.

But it was enough

You rested your chin on your fist again, eyes drifting lazily to the window. Outside, the sunlight sharpened the edges of tree branches and fluttered dust motes in the air like suspended secrets.

The whisperers dared not speak again, but their eyes flicked toward you, then toward Baek-Jin…some with a mix of calculation, some with fear.

You caught one guy’s gaze, sharp, almost desperate and let a small, unreadable smile tug at your lips. Not mocking. Not friendly. Just… something.

Baek-Jin’s hand twitched beside you, pencil tapping once more slow, deliberate.

The teacher’s footsteps echoed faintly down the hall outside, growing louder.

The clock on the wall ticked closer to the last second before the bell.

Your heartbeat slowed, steady but alert. 

The bell rang sharp and final, echoing through the emptying halls. You didn’t rush like the others. Instead, you moved slowly, gathering your things with quiet precision. The whispers from class still hung in the air, like a low hum beneath your skin.

Outside, the afternoon sun softened the edges of the world, casting long shadows on cracked pavement. The schoolyard was thinning fast, footsteps fading into the distance.

You walked down the street near the apartment buildings, head lowered, hands stuffed into your jacket pockets. You hadn’t gone far when a familiar voice broke through the quiet.

“Hey, rookie!” Baku’s loud shout echoed off the walls, pulling a reluctant smile from your lips.

Gotak followed, quieter but steady by his side. His eyes flicked over you, concern subtle but there.

“You’re late,” Baku teased, arms crossed but grinning like he was proud.

“I’m not on your schedule,” you said, trying to sound unimpressed but failing.

Baku laughed, nudging Gotak. “See? She’s got attitude.”

Gotak offered you a water bottle without a word. You took it, nodding your thanks. Then he slipped off his hoodie and draped it over your shoulders.

“Cold,” he said simply.

The gesture was small, but it warmed something inside you more than the fabric could.

You and the two boys fell into step together, the noisy city sounds surrounding you like a shield. For a moment, you forgot about the rumors, the tension back at school, even Baek-Jin.

You, Baku, and Gotak walked down the narrow side street between the convenience store and the back of the old gym, your steps kicking up little puffs of dust. The hoodie Gotak had lent you was warm, smelled faintly of detergent and asphalt.

“You always this quiet after school?” Baku asked, throwing a piece of gum in his mouth as he walked backward in front of you, hands stuffed into his hoodie.

You raised an eyebrow. “You always this loud?”

Gotak snorted.

Baku grinned. “Only when I like the company.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “That why you’re always yelling?”

“Maybe,” he said, cracking his gum. “Or maybe I’m just trying to get you to talk more. You keep showing up like some action movie loner. Thought you were gonna tell me your tragic backstory by now.”

You scoffed, amused. “What, like: ‘I fight because I have nothing left to lose’?”

“Exactly!” he said, pointing at you. “That’s the good stuff. You’ve definitely got the ‘brooding protagonist’ thing going on.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not the protagonist of anything.”

“Pfft. Please. You show up out of nowhere, beat the hell outta three dudes, and now everyone’s talking like you’re some kind of urban legend.”

“Let ‘em talk,” you muttered.

Baku gave you a side glance, more serious now. “That doesn’t bother you?”

There was a pause. You shrugged, but your voice came a little lower.

“Only when they start getting the story wrong.”

He nodded, chewing slowly. “Fair.”

Gotak walked beside you in silence, but his eyes flicked toward you once. Watching. Measuring.

Baku stuffed his hands in his pockets again. “You really from Seoul Arts High?”

You blinked, a little surprised. “Who told you that?”

“I’ve got ears,” he said casually. “Heard it was rough over there.”

You didn’t answer right away. The wind picked up a little, and Gotak adjusted the hoodie on your shoulders without a word.

“Not rough,” you said eventually. “Just… wrong. For me.”

Baku didn’t press. He just walked a little slower now, letting the silence breathe between his words.

Then he grinned again. “Well, whatever. Wrong place or not, you got hands. That part’s undeniable.”

You side-eyed him. “You trying to recruit me or something?”

He threw his arms up in mock innocence. “Me? Nooo. I’m not the recruiting type. I’m more of the annoying older brother you never wanted.”

“Yeah,” you said dryly. “You nailed that part.”

Gotak’s shoulders shook slightly from a quiet laugh.

Then Baku added, a little softer, “But seriously… you ever need backup, you let us know. Eunjang doesn’t do lone wolves. Not anymore.”

That made you pause.

You didn’t respond, but you didn’t walk away either…

But

Just a few steps behind, a figure watched from the shadows. A Union member, face obscured beneath a hood, eyes sharp and calculating. The man pulled out a phone, fingers swift as he tapped a message.

[👁] Spotted her with the Eunjang dogs again. Baku and the tall one. Looked friendly.

The message buzzed quietly in Baek-Jin’s hand.

He read the words twice before setting his jaw.

“She’s getting too close,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes darkened as he stared at the screen, mind already turning over the possibilities of protection, threat, alliance.

He locked his phone without replying. He didn’t need confirmation. He already knew who sent it.

He leaned back in his chair. The flickering fluorescent lights of the Union club room overhead buzzed in sync with the one in his chest.

It was too soon for her to get involved. Too soon to be showing her face outside of school like that, especially with them.

With him.

Baku.

The name alone pressed something hot and bitter against the back of Baek-Jin’s throat.

They’d known each other before all this…before the turf wars, the fractured loyalties, the masks they wore now. Baku had been the first to teach him how to throw a punch. Back then, Baek-Jin was just a quiet, scrawny kid who kept his head down and his fists clenched in his pockets.

And Baku… Baku had been wildfire. Loud. Brash. Fearless. The kind of kid who stepped between fists like it was a game, who laughed when his lip bled.

They used to be on the same side.

But power changes people.

And Baku had made it clear: he wouldn’t kneel.

Baek-Jin respected it. Hated it. Resented it.

And now she—you—were showing up beside him. Laughing. Talking. Looking comfortable, like you belonged there.

Like Baku had already claimed a piece of you.

He didn’t like it.

Didn’t like the idea of you getting dragged into that world, into Baku’s world.

He stood up, chair legs scraping the tile, and moved toward the window. Below, the school grounds stretched quiet under the fading light. Somewhere out there, you were walking with him. With them.

His reflection stared back from the glass calm, composed, forgettable to anyone who didn’t know better.

But behind his eyes, war drums were beginning to beat.

The cafeteria buzzed with the usual end-of-week chaos of metal trays clattering, sneakers squeaking on tile, voices riding high on the promise of a weekend. You slid into your usual corner seat, headphones loosely around your neck, lunch untouched in front of you.

You weren’t hungry.

Too many eyes on you lately. Too many whispers that didn’t bother lowering their volume anymore.

The chair across from you scraped back. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was, he always seems to bother you during lunch a lot.

You didn’t answer. Just flicked your gaze up lazily, unimpressed.

“You’ve got a type, don’t you?”

Geum Seong-Jae’s voice was honey-sweet and razor-sharp, sliding across the table like a knife.

Your jaw tightened, but you said nothing.

He smiled. That crooked, too-white grin that never quite reached his eyes.

“Tall. Quiet. Kinda punchable.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Spotted you with Gotak again. You two close now?”

“Funny, I didn’t think he could walk that fast these days.” He tapped a finger against the table rhythmically. “After what happened last year… well. Guess he heals slow.”

You felt the shift in your spine before your brain caught up, fight or flight tightening behind your ribs.

“What do you want, Seong-Jae.” Flat. Cold. Not a question.

He leaned back, mock-offended. “Me? Nothing. Just checking in. You’ve got a reputation, y’know. Trouble likes to stick together.” He tilted his head. “Maybe that’s why Baku keeps you around.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Or maybe he just doesn’t like snakes.”

That grin sharpened.

“Careful,” he said softly, the edge no longer hidden. “You hang out with Eunjang too long, you start to rot like they do.”

You stood, tray in hand, appetite officially gone.

But before you turned away, you met his eyes head-on.

“Funny,” you said. “I was about to say the same thing about Union.”

You didn’t look back as you walked off.

But you felt his stare burn between your shoulder blades the whole way out.

The wind hit sharp when you pushed open the rooftop door. It tugged at the edge of your jacket and hissed through the rails like it knew something you didn’t.

You shut the door behind you and leaned against the cool concrete, letting the silence press in.

Up here, the school noise faded. The city stretched out in every direction, buildings stacked like old memories, distant sirens, the hum of traffic below. But it was quiet enough to think. Or maybe… too quiet.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket.

[🟢 Gotak] You didn’t think. Just answered.

“Yo.” His voice was steady, low. Familiar.

A pause. Then, “Baku said you didn’t eat lunch.”

You exhaled, the tension you hadn’t even realized you were holding slowly easing out.

“You always call at the weirdest times.”

You let out a soft, amused breath. “Are you two tracking me now?”

“Nah,” Gotak said. “Just watching out.”

The words settled warm somewhere beneath your ribs.

You leaned against the railing, gaze flicking toward the clouds. “Geum Seong-Jae sat across from me today.”

You hesitated. “Stuff about you. About your leg.”

The other end of the line went quiet. Then:

“…What did he say?”

Another silence. This one heavier.

“I know you didn’t.” His voice was calm, but there was steel under it. “He’s just trying to get in your head.”

You kicked a loose pebble off the ledge and watched it disappear into the air.

“I didn’t ask, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Well,” you muttered, “he’s got a hell of a way of doing it.”

A gust of wind blew your hair into your face. You didn’t move to fix it.

“You okay?” Gotak asked, quieter now.

You swallowed. “I don’t know. I don’t like sitting still.”

That got you. You closed your eyes, letting the words settle.

“Then don’t.”

You blinked.

“Move how you need to. Just don’t move alone.”

You didn’t say thank you. He wouldn’t want that anyway.

“Only when I’m talking to someone who forgets she’s not bulletproof.”

Instead, you smirked a little, barely audible through your voice.

“You always this dramatic over the phone?”

There was a long pause, but it wasn’t empty.

“Who says I forgot?”

Your grin faded slightly.

“I just don’t want to feel like I’m hiding anymore.”

“Then don’t,” he said. “We’ve got your back.”

A beat.

You let the words wrap around you like armor. Quiet. Strong.

Then, softer:

“Thanks, Gotak.”

“Anytime, rookie.”

[kaykay0315]

Na Baek-Jin x F!Reader pt.3

Synopsis: You recently transferred to Yeoil High School, you just want to get through school, get good grades and stay out of trouble. You’ve had enough of it in your past and don't want  to get involved with it any longer. But the world seems to not like the path you refuse to take, so it decides to put you in the worst place of all…sitting next to Na Baek-Jin, leader of the Union.

Word Count: 3.2

Warning: fiighting per usual

Was sick the last week, so heres and extra long chapter. Thought?

(Union room)

“She’s not what she looks like.” So-hee sat on the arm of a couch, a butterfly bandage pressed to her cheek. “Who the hell fights like that and ties her bow back after?”

“She said she wasn’t interested.” Seong-Jae shrugged, spinning a pen between his fingers. “That’s usually code for: ‘I’ll be interested when it matters.’”

Baek-Jin didn’t say anything. Just stared at the window for a long time, fingers steepled in thought.

“She’s dangerous,” So-hee added, quieter now. “Not just physically… she knows what she’s doing. That wasn’t instinct. That was control.”

“She didn’t even try to win,” the boy from the fight muttered from the corner. “Until she did.”

“She didn’t want to fight in the first place,” Baek-Jin finally said.

That silenced the room.

He stood slowly, pushing his chair back with a soft scrape.

“Someone trained her,” he continued. “You don’t learn precision like that by accident.”

Seong-Jae looked up at him, curiosity rising. “You think she's Union material?”

Baek-Jin’s gaze darkened slightly. “I think she’s got her own reasons for staying quiet.”

The bell had rung for the end of the day, but the school halls were buzzing more than usual.

Word moved fast at Yeoil High. Too fast.

“She cut So-hee’s cheek with a ribbon?”

“No way. She didn’t even look like she was trying.”

“I heard she didn’t land a single punch. Didn’t have to.”

“Baek-Jin watched the whole thing. Didn’t even blink.”

The whispers followed you all the way to your locker. Students glanced your way, some more subtle than others. A group of girls stepped aside as you passed them in the hallway. One of them was bold enough to stare at your ribbon. Still pristine. Tied tight. Like nothing ever happened.

You didn’t flinch. Just kept walking, kept your expression neutral. Calm. You were used to whispers. This wasn't new.

But it was dangerous.

You’d never meant to draw this kind of attention. Not again.

The classroom felt heavier than usual.

You stepped in just before the final period, your uniform crisp, your ribbon redone. Not a single wrinkle. But the energy had changed. People glanced, then quickly looked away. Even the class gossip, So-mi, didn’t whisper today.

You took your seat beside Baek-Jin. He didn’t look at you…just tapped his pen once, twice, then stopped. As if the noise might give away something he wasn’t ready to reveal.

When the teacher entered, there was a momentary pause as even she looked your way before continuing the lesson. You took out your notes like usual.

But from the corner of your eye, you saw a message being passed. Crumpled paper, quick hands.

You didn’t care to read it. You already knew what it said.

It's Lunch the next day.

You sat alone at the edge of the room, tray in front of you, picking at your food. The usual seat beside you stayed empty. People watched you again, but this time it wasn’t out of curiosity.

It was caution.

The two girls who usually sat across from you in earlier days had changed tables. One of them still snuck glances when she thought you wouldn’t notice. Her eyes dropped to your bow more than once.

A tray clattered down across from you.

Seong-Jae.

He leaned back, hoodie up, earbuds in. But no music played, you could tell by the faint silence between buzzes of cafeteria noise.

“You always tie it the same way?” he asked after a few bites.

You didn’t glance up. “The ribbon?”

“Yeah. Right-over-left. Two loops. Neat little pull.”

You paused your bite of rice. Then looked up. “…You pay a lot of attention for someone who doesn’t care.”

“I care about details,” he said, chewing. “They tell better stories than people do.”

You stared at him for a beat. “You looking for a story?”

“No,” he said, casually tapping his chopsticks against the tray. “I think I already know the ending. Just waiting to see how you write the middle.”

You didn’t answer, just reached up and adjusted the bow slightly tighter. Cleaner.

His gaze followed the motion. Then, satisfied, he stood up again. “See you around, Bow Girl.”

The nickname stuck.

The lunch bell rang, sharp and mechanical, echoing through the cafeteria’s high ceilings. Trays clattered. Chairs scraped. Conversations picked up like a wave rolling across the room.

You stayed seated a moment longer than most. Not because you were finished eating, but because leaving too early meant walking in the middle of the crowd. And today, every glance felt like a weight on your back.

The ribbon around your ponytail tugged slightly as you adjusted your bag onto one shoulder.

You stood.

Your shoes made soft clicks against the linoleum, steady and unhurried, even as students parted just slightly to give you space. Not a lot. But enough. Like how people shift when someone carries a storm in their shadow and doesn’t even know it.

Geum Seong-jae hadn’t said anything else after calling you Bow Girl, but you could still feel the smirk he left behind lingering somewhere in the space beside you. Like it followed you out the cafeteria doors.

The hallway was cooler, the air-conditioning humming from above. Fluorescent lights flickered slightly, casting long shadows on the pale tile.

You walked with purpose and measured steps, your bag tapping lightly against your hip. Past groups clustered by the walls, some of them quieting mid-conversation as you passed. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t acknowledge.

Your locker was near the stairwell, a quieter spot that felt like neutral ground.

You knelt slightly to spin the combination lock, listening to the distant sound of someone laughing three classrooms away.

The click of your lock echoed a little too loudly.

You opened it, switching your books out with silent precision. Everything inside was organized: clean folders, dividers, labels. Like if you could just control this one space, it might balance the chaos you couldn’t.

Behind you, the soft shuffle of shoes. A group of younger students passed.

They weren’t exactly subtle.

You heard the murmur, felt the eyes on your back.

“That’s her, right?” “With the ribbon…” “She cut So-hee with it, I swear.”

You finished zipping your bag.

Their voices dropped to whispers, and one of them fumbled his pencil.

You didn’t turn.

You didn’t have to.

They scattered like leaves in the wind.

You passed by the nurse’s office.

Inside, through the cracked door, you saw So-hee sitting on the bed, talking to the nurse. Her cheek had a fresh bandage across it. She looked pissed.

But not at you.

At herself.

You walked past quietly. No need to stir anything else up. But just as you were about to turn the corner, you heard So-hee mutter:

“She didn’t even blink.”

You stopped walking for a half-second.

Then kept going.

The final bell rang with a low, dragging tone, like it was also exhausted from the day. Students flooded the halls, their chatter bouncing off the walls. Some rushed to club meetings. Others headed home.

You moved in the opposite direction.

Not toward the gate.

Up.

Your steps were quiet against the stairwell tiles. The stairwell window filtered in the soft orange of a fading sunset, casting warm streaks across the steps as you climbed. Each floor passed with the rhythmic sound of your shoes and the steady beat of your heart.

Your body felt sore in a way you hadn't admitted the day before. Your knee still carried the phantom ache from where it hit on the floor. Your shoulder pulled tight where you'd twisted out of that boy’s grip. But none of it showed on your face.

You reached the final door. The one most students ignored.

The one that led to the roof.

The metal handle was cool against your fingers as you turned it. It opened with a low creak, and a rush of quiet air greeted you.

The rooftop was nearly empty.

The city stretched beyond the wire fencing, buildings glowing gold in the last light of day. The breeze carried the scent of early spring; faint grass, warm concrete, and the lingering crispness of air that hadn’t quite turned summer-heavy yet.

You stepped out, letting the door swing shut behind you.

Your ribbon shifted slightly in the wind.

The silence was different up here. Heavier. Calmer. It reminded you of Seoul Arts, of days when you’d come to the roof to breathe after a fight, or before one. To think, to reset, to figure out who you were going to be when you walked back downstairs.

You walked to the edge and leaned slightly on the railing, eyes trailing over the horizon.

Below you, life kept moving. Traffic blinked like veins of light. Kids laughed on a basketball court somewhere in the distance. But up here, it felt like time stalled, just for you.

You let your shoulders relax for the first time all day.

And then…

Click.

The sound of the door opening again echoed like a drop of water in a still lake.

You didn’t turn right away.

But you already knew…you weren’t alone anymore.

“Mind if I join you?”

You didn’t turn. Just nodded once.

Baek-Jin stepped beside you, hands in his pockets, his posture deceptively relaxed.

He didn't say anything at first.

You waited.

“You could’ve embarrassed them way worse,” he said finally.

You didn’t look at him. “Didn’t need to.”

“You could’ve hurt them.”

You tightened your arms around yourself slightly. “Didn’t want to.”

A pause.

He glanced sideways at you. “So why did you fight?”

You looked down at your hands. The faintest red still under your fingernails.

“I didn’t,” you said. “I just stopped dodging.”

That made him exhale softly. A sound almost like a laugh, but not quite.

“You’re not scared of me,” he said.

You turned toward him slowly. “Should I be?”

Another pause.

“No,” he said, almost too soft to catch. “Not yet.”

You gave him a small nod, brushing a loose strand of hair back into place behind your ear. “Then don’t give me a reason.”

As you turned to leave, Baek-Jin looked at the way your bow caught the wind, tied perfectly again. The symbol of restraint. Or maybe something more.

He watched until you disappeared down the stairs.

Then, to no one in particular, he murmured

“She’s not here to blend in. She’s here to disappear.”

Evening draped over the city like a soft blanket, the sky melting into muted lavender and deepening navy. The streets were quieter now, most students had already gotten home, and the neighborhood buzzed with a slower, more domestic rhythm. A mom herding her toddler inside. A scooter zipping by with a box of fried chicken balanced in the back.

You walked with your hands in your pockets, your bag slung loosely over one shoulder. The day’s weight was finally starting to lift, little by little. Your ribbon, though slightly frayed from earlier, was tied neatly again.

You were still figuring out the quickest route home,cutting through back streets lined with older apartments and flickering neon signs. The kind of roads that felt tucked away from the world.

It was only after your third turn that the feeling crept in.

That prickle at the base of your neck.

Your footsteps slowed just slightly. You didn’t look back, not right away. You didn’t need to. You could feel the presence. Heavy. Off-rhythm. Like it wasn’t someone walking in the same direction, but someone trailing.

Two men, maybe three. Close enough to hear their low mutters. One laughed dry and jagged, like sandpaper.

“Hey, sweetheart. You got a name?”

You didn’t answer.

You kept walking. Turned another corner. Hoping it would take you somewhere crowded. Somewhere with lights. Somewhere with people.

It didn’t.

Dead end.

An alley behind an old garage, stacked with crates and broken scooters. Your eyes scanned the space. Nowhere to hide. No clear escape.

The footsteps behind you got louder. Closer.

You turned around slowly, jaw tight.

There were three of them, men in their late twenties maybe, the kind that reeked of cheap beer, cocky entitlement, and way too much time on their hands. One had a toothpick in his mouth. Another cracked his knuckles like he was stretching before a warm-up set.

“You looked like you were trying to get away. That’s not very polite.”

You took a step back, toward the crates, keeping your distance.

If you had to fight, fine. You’d make it fast. You reached up, just a subtle movement, and touched your ribbon lightly. It was still secure.

“I’m only going to say this once,” you said, voice calm. “Walk away.”

They laughed.

Of course they laughed.

And then…

“Hey!”

The shout came from the side street.

A blur of motion burst into the alley. Two boys. One tall lanky, wild-haired and grinning like a fox in sneakers too expensive for his vibe. The other shorter than the latter, solid build, fists already balled and ready.

“The hell you think you’re doing?” the tall one called out.

The other guy, clearly less patient, didn’t wait for an answer. He charged the nearest man.

That’s how chaos started.

You ducked as someone swung toward you, catching a crate with their elbow instead. Baku and Gotak, as you’d learn their names later, held their ground for a few good hits. But there were three of them and one lucky punch knocked Baku hard against the wall, his breath whooshing out in a grunt. Gotak took a knee, wheezing, arms up but shaking.

That’s when you exhaled slowly.

No more running.

No more waiting.

You pulled the ribbon from your ponytail in one smooth motion.

They didn’t expect it. No one ever does.

But the moment your ribbon hit the air, the fight changed.

You moved like water, controlled but fast. A flick of the ribbon across the cheek of the guy with the toothpick left a thin, red line blooming down his face. You dodged another’s swing and twisted the ribbon to wrap around his wrist, yanking him forward and slamming your elbow into his shoulder joint. He dropped like a stone.

The last man hesitated just a second too long.

That’s all you needed.

Two steps, twist, kick to the ribs. He stumbled back and hit the wall with a thud.

Silence.

Broken only by the sound of your breath and Baku wheezing slightly as he pushed himself back upright.

You stood calmly, brushing your bangs from your face. The ribbon fluttered loosely in your hand, frayed now at one end.

Baku blinked at you. Gotak was still catching his breath.

“...Okay. What the hell was that?” Baku finally said, wiping blood from his lip.

“A ribbon?” Gotak mumbled, still crouching. “That thing cut a guy?”

You knelt down briefly, pulled a tissue from your bag, and offered it to Gotak.

“You didn’t have to jump in, you know,” you said softly. “But… thanks.”

“Didn’t really think it through,” Baku shrugged. “You just looked like you needed backup. Guess we were the ones who needed it.”

You stood again, retying your ponytail, calm as ever.

You tell them your name

“Im Baku, that's Gotak.”

“C’mon, there's a convenience store nearby” you say, walking out of the alley with the two boys.

“Hey, we were just headed there.” chimed Baku

“Really?” you say glancing at them as they walk beside you, “funny coincidence.”

The bell above the convenience store door chimed as you stepped in, followed by the clunky footsteps of Baku and Gotak. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow over the neatly stocked shelves and humming coolers. The familiar place under your apartment had become a kind of comfort, and tonight, after everything, it felt almost too normal.

You headed straight to the freezer.

"Got any strawberry bars?" Baku asked, rubbing the fresh red mark on his cheek.

"Don’t be picky. I’m the one who got tackled into a trash can," Gotak muttered, pulling open the sliding door for ice cream.

You glanced at them both and snorted softly. “Tough night?”

"Could’ve been worse," Baku grinned, tossing you a bar. "You handled it pretty clean for someone who didn’t want to fight."

Before you could respond, your eyes flicked to the back of the store.

Two boys stood near the register. One was short, broad-shouldered with round glasses slipping down his nose, arms full of snacks; instant ramen, canned coffee, some weird sour gummies. The other stood beside him in sharp contrast, leaner, still, composed. His dark eyes flicked over to you with razor precision. Silent. Observant. He didn’t seem surprised to see the three of you walk in, like he’d known you’d be coming.

“Yo! There you are,” Baku greeted, ice cream already halfway unwrapped in his hand. “They were waiting for us.”

Gotak stepped up behind you. “Hey, this is her,” he said to the two boys. “The one I told you about.”

The boy with the glasses looked at you curiously. “You’re the new girl, right? At Yeoil?”

You nodded once. “Yeah. Just transferred last week.”

He gave a polite, nervous smile. “I’m Seo Jun-tae.”

You noticed the way he held his shoulders, slightly hunched, like he didn’t quite fit in his own skin. But his eyes were warm, curious, not judging.

The other one remained quiet.

Jun-tae nudged him gently with his elbow. “Si-eun?”

“Yeon Si-eun,” he said, voice calm, nearly emotionless. “You live upstairs.”

Your brows rose slightly. “How’d you—”

“I pay attention.”

Baku chuckled. “Don’t mind him, he’s like that with everyone. He also lives upstairs, the third door down..”

You took a moment, unwrapping your ice cream bar. “Well... thanks. For showing up when you did.” You looked to Baku and Gotak. “You didn’t have to.”

Gotak shrugged, awkward. “Didn’t feel right not doing anything.”

“Besides,” Baku added, “we owed you after earlier. That ribbon thing was badass.”

At the mention of it, you instinctively reached back and checked the knot of the bow in your ponytail, as if to reassure yourself it was still there. It was.

Si-eun’s gaze dropped to it for half a second, he noticed.

No one said anything, but there was a shift in the air. A silent acknowledgement. He knew.

Jun-tae cleared his throat. “Um... you’re not hurt, are you? From earlier?”

“A few bruises,” you said. “Nothing serious.”

He nodded, then rummaged through a small plastic basket and handed you a pack of cold gel patches and some neon cartoon bandaids. “Just in case.”

You blinked. “Thanks.”

“They’re waterproof,” he said with a shy smile.

Gotak grabbed two cups of ramen and headed for the register. “Let’s go upstairs. My legs are still jelly.”

Si-eun was already heading for the door, not waiting for anyone to follow.

As the others gathered their things, Baku leaned a little closer and said, “You coming up, or you disappearing again?”

You hesitated. The night air waited just outside. The quiet walk home, the silence of your flat, the hum of the fridge.

But something pulled at you, curiosity, maybe. Or something heavier.

You looked at the group of mismatched boys: one quiet as a shadow, one awkward but kind, two bruised and weirdly loyal.

“Yeah,” you said. “I’ll come up.”

Part 1 Part2

[kaykay0315]

Na Baek-Jin x F!Reader Pt. 2

Synopsis: You recently transferred to Yeoil High School, you just want to get through school, get good grades and stay out of trouble. You’ve had enough of it in your past and don't want  to get involved with it any longer. But the world seems to not like the path you refuse to take, so it decides to put you in the worst place of all…sitting next to Na Baek-Jin, leader of the Union.

Warning: brief fighting

Word Count: 1.8k

Part 2: Tension Beneath the Surface

Week two.

The halls didn’t feel like a maze anymore, but they still weren’t familiar. You could find your locker without glancing at the numbers, and you remembered to bring indoor shoes today. Progress.

Most days you kept your head down, did your work, and avoided standing out. But that seat….your seat, right beside Na Baek-Jin. It made that even more impossible.

You still remembered the way he looked at you when you walked into class last week. Not shocked. Not even curious. Just… sharp. Like he was trying to figure something out.

And maybe he had.

Baek-Jin hadn’t spoken to you, not directly. But you could feel the awareness. The way he shifted when you moved. The way his eyes flicked toward you, never long enough to catch, but always long enough to notice.

Your pen tapped against your notebook as the homeroom teacher droned on. Morning announcements. A field trip notice. Nothing you really had to care about.

Baek-Jin leaned back in his chair, one leg stretched out under the desk. Effortless confidence, like the entire room bent around him without him having to ask.

You hadn’t meant to look. But now you were.

He glanced sideways at the same moment, catching your eyes.

You blinked and looked away.

He didn’t.

Outside, it had started raining. You hadn’t brought an umbrella.

Of course.

You kept your head down as the lunch bell rang, waiting a few seconds before standing. It wasn’t nerves, not exactly,it was calculation. Most of the students swarmed out the door immediately, shouting about cafeteria lines and who was saving seats. You preferred to move in the quiet aftershock.

Baek-Jin didn’t move either. He stayed seated, elbow on the desk, eyes fixed somewhere past the windows. The rain had picked up, tapping gently against the glass.

You grabbed your tray and headed toward the cafeteria, winding through the corridors. The smell of steamed rice and frying oil hit you before you turned the corner.

The cafeteria was loud. Busy. Familiar and foreign all at once. You hadn’t made any solid friends yet. There were a few girls who smiled at you in the morning, and a guy from your literature class who’d asked for your notes once, but that was it. You didn’t mind.

There was a spot by the windows. Far enough from the noise, close enough to the exit. You slid into the seat and peeled the wrapper off your chopsticks, focusing on your food.

And then

A quiet shuffle of chairs across from you. You looked up, half expecting someone to tell you the seat was taken.

It wasn’t just someone.

Na Baek-Jin sat down across from you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You froze mid-bite.

He said nothing. Just pulled his tray closer and started eating, clean and methodical.

You stared for a second before clearing your throat softly. “This is… the quiet corner. You know that, right?”

He didn’t look up. “Exactly why I came here.”

Silence stretched. The cafeteria buzzed all around you, but your table felt weirdly still.

You tried again, eyes flicking up to meet his. “You don’t usually sit here.”

“I don’t usually have people spill milk on my shoes either,” he replied without missing a beat, finally glancing at you.

Your ears burned. “That was an accident.”

“I noticed.”

You weren’t sure if he was teasing or just being observant. Probably both. His tone was unreadable.

“You don’t talk much,” he added suddenly.

You blinked. “Neither do you.”

A pause. Then…was that a smirk?

“I talk when it matters.”

You gave a soft, dry laugh. “Then you must think this conversation is extremely important.”

He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. “Maybe.”

That shut you up.

Your chopsticks hovered over your food as he looked away again, as if nothing happened. Like he hadn’t just derailed the lunch you were planning to spend in solitude. Like it wasn’t strange that Na Baek-Jin—of all people—chose to sit here, now, with you.

Maybe it was coincidence. Maybe he just wanted quiet.

But the look he gave you said otherwise.

By the time lunch ended, your brain was still catching up.

Na Baek-Jin hadn’t said much after that last line. He finished his food, stood up without warning, and left you sitting there like the whole interaction had been a figment of your imagination. The only proof he was ever there: his empty tray and the fact that two girls walking by had definitely done a double take when they saw him at your table.

You exhaled through your nose, gathered your things, and headed back to class.

You didn’t notice the guy watching you from a nearby table until it was too late.

Sixth period dragged. You stared at your notes, highlighting the same line three times without reading it. Something about Baek-Jin’s gaze lingered. Like it had scratched across your thoughts and left a mark.

When the final bell rang, you moved fast. Slipping your books into your bag, tucking your chair in, ready to make a clean getaway.

“Hey.”

You turned.

A guy leaned against the doorframe. Shaggy hair, hoodie halfway unzipped, bored expression. You recognized him, not by name, but by proximity. He was one of Baek-Jin’s people. Always nearby. Always quiet. But not invisible.

“You're the new girl,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

You kept your face neutral. “Yeah.”

“You sat with Baek-Jin at lunch.”

That wasn’t a question either.

You didn’t respond, just gave a shrug like it didn’t mean anything.

He pushed off the frame, jerking his chin toward the hallway. “Come with me.”

You blinked. “Why?”

“Union stuff.”

You arched a brow. “I’m not in the Union.”

He gave a half-smile. “Not yet.”

You followed him down the side hallway, the sounds of students fading behind you the deeper you went.

“Where are we going again?” you asked, glancing sideways at him.

Geum Seong-Jae didn’t look at you. Just kept walking like you weren’t worth the effort. “Somewhere you’ll either thank me for or regret later. Flip a coin.”

“That’s not exactly comforting,” you muttered.

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

His hoodie was faded, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and he walked like someone who had nothing to prove because he already knew where everyone stood. That made him dangerous.

“You always drag new students into strange back rooms?” you asked, slowing your pace.

“Only the ones who get special attention,” he said, finally looking at you.

You frowned. “You mean the cafeteria thing? That wasn’t special. He just sat there.”

“Exactly,” Seong-Jae said with a knowing grin. “He never just sits anywhere.”

You didn’t respond, just walked in silence for a second.

Then he added, a little quieter, “Nice bow, by the way.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He motioned lazily to your hair. “The ribbon. It’s the kind of thing someone wears when they want people to think they’ve got everything under control.”

You reached up instinctively, fingers brushing the bow tied neatly around your high ponytail.

“…What, is this some weird Union psychology test?”

“No,” he said, chuckling as he pushed open the door to a clubroom, “just an observation. But hey,make sure it stays tied tight.”

The way he said it made something uneasy twist in your stomach. Like it meant more than it should’ve.

 Inside, the others looked up when you entered. Baek-Jin didn’t seem surprised to see you. If anything, it felt like he’d been expecting this moment since lunch.

You stayed by the door. “Am I supposed to be here?”

Baek-Jin’s gaze flicked from your eyes to your ribbon, then back up again.

“You are now,” he said.

You stayed near the door, arms loosely crossed, a little tension building in your jaw.

“This is a test,” you said, voice flat.

Baek-Jin didn’t confirm it. He didn’t have to.

The red-haired girl ‘So-hee’ if you remembered correctly and a tall boy with bleached tips stepped forward from the group.

“We just want to see if you're useful,” So-hee said, cracking her knuckles. “Nothing personal.”

“Right,” you said. “Because cornering someone in an abandoned clubroom is the perfect way to build trust.”

“You could just do what we asked,” the guy added, smirking. “But you keep saying no.”

“I’m not interested in Union politics.”

“You’re already involved,” So-hee snapped. “You sat with him.”

You glanced sideways at Baek-Jin, still silent, still watching. Seong-Jae, leaned back in a beat-up chair nearby, looked amused. Like this was his entertainment for the day.

“I’m not fighting you,” you said finally.

“Good,” So-hee replied, cracking her neck. “That means you’ll go down fast.”

The first swing came without warning So-hee moved fast, low and sharp like she’d done this before. You dodged, sidestepping cleanly. The boy came next, a half-hearted punch you ducked under with ease.

You didn’t swing back.

Not yet.

Just moved.

Slipped past them with dancer’s grace and narrow misses. You could hear Seong-Jae mutter something like, “Not bad.”

But the boy clipped you; an elbow to your ribs that knocked you off-balance, and So-hee followed with a sharp kick to your thigh that forced you to one knee.

Your fingers twitched.

You exhaled slowly.

Then, without a word, your hand moved to your ponytail. In one smooth, practiced motion, you slid the ribbon loose.

The air shifted.

Even So-hee hesitated.

The ribbon fluttered in your hand for a second and then snapped tight between your fingers like a silk blade.

You moved.

Fast.

Elegant.

Precise.

The ribbon whipped past So-hee’s shoulder, grazing her cheek just enough to draw blood. She gasped, stumbling back as her hand flew to her face.

The boy lunged only to be tripped and spun with a yank of your ribbon, the tension around his wrist cutting just enough to sting.

You pivoted, low to the ground, spun it back around your arm, and snapped it up under his chin he stumbled again, breath gone.

By the time they stepped back, panting, you stood perfectly still.

No blood on you.

No scuffs.

Just that ribbon.

Hanging loose between your fingers like it never left its place.

So-hee touched the cut on her cheek, wide-eyed. “What the hell…”

You tilted your head, tied the ribbon back into your hair with practiced ease. Each motion slow. Deliberate.

The bow sat perfectly again.

You turned to Baek-Jin and Seong-Jae.

Baek-Jin leaned forward, arms on his knees, studying you like something far more interesting than expected had just revealed itself.

Seong-Jae let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

Neither looked particularly surprised.

But they definitely weren’t bored anymore.

Baek-Jin’s gaze locked with yours. “You said you weren’t interested.”

You adjusted the ends of your bow calmly. “I’m still not.”

“But you showed up,” Seong-Jae said, grinning. “And you tied it back. That means something.”

Baek-Jin didn’t smile, but something flickered behind his eyes. “You're going to be a problem.”

You smiled faintly. “Only if you make me one.”

(edit word count)

Part 1 Part 3

[kaykay0315]

Na Baek-Jin x F!Reader Part 1

No y/n   Warnings: fiighting, violence, same warnings as the show tbh.

Notes: You’re depicted with your hair up in a ponytail with a ribbon and brown hair

Word Count: 1.5k

Synopsis: You recently transferred to Yeoil High School, you just want to get through school, get good grades and stay out of trouble. You’ve had enough of it in your past and don't want  to get involved with it any longer. But the world seems to not like the path you refuse to take, so it decides to put you in the worst place of all…sitting next to Na Baek-Jin, leader of the Union.

You really just wanted  a fresh start. Your mother convinced you it would be a good idea, that this was a great opportunity. It was a prestigious school, its brightest minds go here, They go on to be leaders, innovators, and change makers ....”It's a launchpad for lifelong success!” Your mother said, when trying to get you excited to go, but you also had to go alone. 

Maybe it's a good thing that you get to go alone, move into a one room flat near the school, nicely placed above a convenient store. 

You wouldn't have to worry about all the pressure from your mom and constantly be monitored, you're actually a bit surprised she didn't go with you, but then again, her job is more important than…this.

You finally placed the last of your bags in your flat, thankfully it came partly furnished, with a full size bed frame and mattress, a very used, but loved, couch that could maybe squeeze in four people, if they are half way on each other's laps that is…and a semi functioning tv surprisingly.

You dust off your hands and place your hands on your hips leaning back “well, guess it's time to go eat.” you grin to yourself and grab your wallet and new keys to your place. 

Making your way down towards the convenient store. The sun had just finished setting, and you traveled most of the day, so you were craving snacks. 

The door dinged as you entered, greeted by a very bored young college worker, not even bothering to look up from their phone and scroll lazily. You don’t really care though, you're just there to get your snacks and get out, maybe binge a movie you had downloaded. 

You're supposed to  be getting your wifi installed sometime this week. Your landlord has not specified when yet, maybe you should send him a message tomorrow and ask if he has any updates on that. 

You had grabbed a third item already, you had something sweet, something spicy, and something salty. Finally onto the drinks, definitely want either strawberry or banana milk…oooh maybe both. 

You gleefully grab one of each flavor, your arms full and turning to make your way to the front to check out, when you bump into something hard, you stumble back a bit off balance for a second before quickly regaining it, however your milks went flying down popping open with some milk splashing onto the brickwalls shoe. 

Wait…a brickwall’s shoe? You quickly look up to be met with the most piercing eyes you've ever seen. ‘Oh that's definitely not a brick wall.’ you think to yourself. You're a bit in shock, you hadn't seen or heard anyone when you had entered, maybe you were just too zoned out, only focusing on your hunger and not watching your surroundings. 

You finally pull your thoughts together and blurt out 

‘I'm so sorry! I wasn't paying attention, are you okay?” looking at him making sure you didn't shove him too hard, but to be honest you felt like you were the one being shoved with how forcefully you bounced off of him, hell! you thought you had run into a wall that just so happened to spawn directly behind you in a convenient store! 

He quickly glanced at his shoes and back up to your face, it looked like he was about to say something when someone called out to him. Coming around the corner was another guy, tall with shaggy hair and glasses, he was wearing a hoodie and had what was a dangling unlit cigarette in his mouth. “Lets go, i already got what I needed” The guy you had just ran into clenches his jaw slightly and sighs, simply walking away and out the door. 

The classroom buzzed with chatter as the homeroom teacher stepped in, followed by a quiet girl in a crisp uniform. The moment she entered, Na Baek-jin lifted his eyes, not out of curiosity, but out of habit. He liked knowing his surroundings.

She stood at the front of the room, shifting slightly under the weight of so many eyes analyzing her.

"This is the new student. She transferred here from Seoul Arts High. She’ll be joining us for the rest of the year."

Na Baek-jin noted the way she clutched the strap of her backpack. She wasn’t scared…just… calculating, maybe. Like someone used to watching before acting. Then he finally looked at her, really looked at her and realized, it's her. The same girl who had bumped into him the night before at the convenience store. That struck a chord.

She gave a small bow, her voice soft but clear. “Please take care of me.” 

The seat beside Na Baek-jin was empty. Of course it was.

Most students were too intimidated to sit next to him unless they had to. The rumors, the quiet stare, the reputation…it all worked like an invisible force field.

The teacher gestured. “You’ll sit over there, beside Na Baek-jin.”

She nodded once, her black ribbon swaying slightly as she turned and walked through the narrow rows of desks. Each step was precise but unhurried. No one could quite tell if she was nervous, confident, or just good at pretending.

As she approached, Baek-jin glanced sideways. Long ponytail, perfectly tied ribbon. Not a wrinkle on her uniform. But her shoes, clean, but scuffed around the edges. She pulled out the chair beside him and sat down. Didn’t look at him right away. Just organized her desk; pen, notebook, schedule, all placed neatly. Shespared a quick glance and nod of acknowledgement towards him. He kept his face straight the rest of class, onlt focusing towards the boards or his notes….

One month earlier: Seoul Arts High School

The rooftop was quiet except for the hum of air vents and the distant echo of yelling from the gym. Ha-eun’s black ribbon fluttered in the wind, still tied neatly even as blood stained the corner of her collar.

Three boys were groaning on the concrete. One was trying to crawl to his feet. The other two weren’t moving.

Ha-eun stood in the middle of them, not panting. Not trembling. Just… still. She rolled her shoulder with a soft wince. That last one had gotten a solid hit to her ribs before she ended it.

“You started this,” she muttered, glancing down at the ringleader—the one who’d yanked her bag off earlier that week and told her she should “smile more.”

He spat on the floor beside her shoe. “You’re fucking insane…”

She crouched in front of him, her voice soft and scarily calm. “No. I’m just done letting people like you decide who gets to speak and who doesn’t.”  She didn’t wait for a reply, he wasn’t with it.

Her footsteps echoed down the stairwell. No one was there; most students were still in class. She moved quietly, adjusting her sleeve where it had been torn, tugging it to cover the scrape on her forearm. The pain was distant, her mind was already shifting ahead.

The building smelled like dust and old chalk. On the first floor, she ducked into the girls’ bathroom. A girl washing her hands gave her a double take, eyes widening at the blood.

You offered her a small, polite smile.

“It’s not mine,” she said flatly, and walked into a stall.

Fifteen minutes later she steps out into the fading afternoon sun. The breeze was cool against her bruised ribs. Her ribbon still held tight.

No one followed. No one saw.

She pulled out her phone, unlocked it, and opened her planner app.

Trigonometry review – p. 124-127

Lit essay due Monday – outline tonight

Midterm chem vocab – flashcards (30 min)

A faint ringing echoed in her ears, the kind that followed an adrenaline crash, but her focus stayed sharp. She could still make it home by 5:30 if she didn’t stop.

She took the quieter roads, weaving through alleyways and shop-lined backstreets. School bag slung over one shoulder. Headphones in, but no music playing.

It was a habit. She liked to look like she wasn’t listening. People acted differently when they thought no one was paying attention.

Halfway home, she passed a cracked mirror nailed to a telephone pole.

She paused.

In the reflection, her face was calm, unbothered. Hair still neat. The ribbon still perfect.

But if you looked closely….you’d see it.

The tightness in her jaw.

The redness on her knuckles.

The glint in her eyes that didn’t belong to a girl who just studied hard and kept to herself.

She fixed the collar of her blouse, brushing away a faint smudge of blood.

“No one saw,” she murmured, then started walking again.

Soooooo what do we think???? I haven’t written in a long time T T

Part 2 Part 3

[animentality]

[animentality]

[dduane]

A brief moment of rationality from the bird place.

[kuma-kami]

Visit Original Link

[snowdaysforever]

DELETE THIS POST

[theoldspaceevibes-deactivated20]

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME

[froborr]

*clicks play in morbid curiosity*

*hammers reblog button*

[chongoblog]

I think I find this post every April Fools Day and I am so happy that I do

[starlightshadowsworld]

Palestinians are not "animals."

They are not "children of darkness."

Little kids are rescuing cats and trying to comfort them when they themselves are terrified.

A doctor broke down when his father and brother came into the trauma unit.

And several of his colleagues hugged and gathered to comfort him.

Journalists are playing with babies.

Doctors are refusing to evacuate hospitals because their patients can't and refuse to leave them.

There's a little boy who gives tea to the journalists and thanks them for spreading their stories.

He's displaced at the hospital, his home is gone.

A kid was asked what he wants to be when he grows up and he said kids in Gaza don't grow up.

Kids are writing their names on their arms so they can be identified.

Momin Kireka is a Palestinian journalist who was disabled by an Israeli attack in 2008.

And despite the difficulty in moving around, he vows to continue to show the world the truth.

Awni, a young Palestinian boy has a gaming YouTube channel he loved so much.

He was killed in the bombing.

Mohammed Sami was an artist who's dream was to open an art gallery.

He was playing with the kids to raise their spirits. And the next day he was killed.

They are victims.

They are going through unimaginable horrors and still find it in their hearts to be kind.

They have hopes and dreams just like you and I.

They are people.

And they deserve to be recognised and known as such.

[furiousdinosaurdestiny]

Usually it’s video games instead of music but this is pretty much accurate hehe

[eureka-its-zico]

Absolutely obsessed with the Chaos In Their Bones, your writing is phenomenal. Just wanted so ask how your Halloween was and see how you were doing, I love your mini updates throughout the week.

Osiyo KayKay!

Thank you for being a cutie pie 🥰

My Halloween was spent mostly inside. The cold weather affects my lungs really bad and if I get sick it’s game over for me so….it was uneventful and boring lol. How was yours?

I hope the start of November has been treating you well 🖤

[kaykay0315]

I just finished writing the most smutty Sanji fic and Tumblr failed to save the goddamn draft that I spent over an hour typing ON MY PHONE and I lost everything....I feel so defeated and idk if ill ever write such a master piece again.