#<- TERRIFYING. WHY DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT

[beigebeignett]

I do love angst but I'm also a sucker for happy endings and re-incarnation, so here's my take on what happens (decades/centuries) after:

The sphinx and her lover: reimagined

Imagine that the sphinx ends up dying, as all living creatures do, and ends up reincarnated as a very smart yet terrifying young scientist. 

Her passion in her fields equals her distaste for other people; especially men who try to undermine her knowledge and talent at dates. So, she sets up a strategy to determine who is worthy of her time.

If you want to get a date with me, solve my riddles, wrong answers will get you blocked. 

There, done, she thinks. If that doesn't make men stop bombarding her with messages, she doesn't know what will (well, she can think of a few others, but she'd rather not spend more time and energy than she's already spending on such a silly matter). 

And so, she starts getting less messages, with only some men and women being brave (or foolish) enough to try and chat with her. 

The ones that try to answer her riddles don't usually last long; getting the second or third wrong. Some don't even last the first one; those are usually the most bothersome, acting as if she has no right to choose her partner, as if she's being too ruthless (when she'd been honest since the beginning). 

Weeks pass before she gets another message. And so, she does as she always does. This time though, something's different. He keeps getting her riddles right, over, and over, and over. 

How curious, she thinks. How curious indeed, when he asks her if he could try asking her a riddle. She scoffs at her phone, partially amused, and agrees. 

She gets the answer right, of course, so he keeps asking riddle after riddle and she does the same, as if they were playing a game of pass the ball. The riddles get increasingly difficult, and the time those three dots stay floating on the chat grows longer as well; but she doesn't mind. She can wait a bit more for this one. Plus, while she waits, she can get lab reports done instead of worrying about finding new questions to ask that man. 

Sometimes days go by without her seeing any new riddles for him; sometimes a week passes before he gets asked another one. 

She must be busy, he thinks. He must have other things to do, she assumes. 

Between riddles, they start to talk about more mundane things: his job, her career, his essay on ancient Greek marriage practices; her paper on nuclear magnetic resonance in chemical engineering… He sends her pictures of his cat napping on top of his dictionaries and encyclopaedias, basking in the sun; and in turn she sends him pictures of boards filled with equations and pictures of filled excel tables.

Soon, they start chatting more, asking riddles occasionally when they’re both tired of talking about themselves. 

She learns that he’s an Archaeology major, and he finds out that she’s already getting her doctorate; something about chemical engineering, she explains. He’s fascinated by the topic, asking her a million questions about what it’s like, her doctorate subject, how did she choose her career path… And in turn she asks him about archaeology; why did he choose to spend his life studying the past, what is it that he enjoys the most about his field of work… 

They agree to meet up at the local library two days later. 

Almost a foot taller than him; that’s how tall she is. She’s waiting for him sitting near the entrance, browsing through architecture magazines when he finds her. He smiles and warmly waves at her, formally introducing himself, and extends his hand for her to shake; so she stands up as well to take it and introduce herself as well. That’s when they notice.

Even though he’s not short himself (considering the standards) at 5'9", at almost 7 feet tall she towers over him. Their aesthetics seem to clash a bit as well: his outfit is quite simple: some basic jeans and a nice cream wool jumper paired up with some sneakers, and hers consists of a pleated red skirt and a shirt paired with black knee-high boots to combat the cold. Out of the chat, and now face to face, their conversation flows easily; they exchange book recommendations, and of course they ask each other some riddles to pass the time. 

Overall, their first date goes well. Better than she expected, honestly, which is why when he asks her for a second date, she agrees.

To be continued...?

[ashwhowrites]

omg yay requests are open! Could you do smth with the concept of Eddie with a reader that is very affectionate with everyone but him, and when he finally confronts her about it, confused, and honestly a bit hurt, she’s forced to reveal her crush on him?

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting ❤️

Why am I different?

Eddie was used to being treated differently. It happened all his life and he doesn't think it'll ever stop. He found a good group of friends who treated him like a human.

A new friend was introduced to the gang and Eddie couldn't get a good read on her. She didn't seem shy, very affectionate with everyone. Well everyone except Eddie.

Whenever she arrives somewhere, she greets everyone with a hug. Eddie only got a wave and a small smile. She sat close to others during movie nights, but whenever Eddie sat next to her she had so much space between them.

He was positive she didn't like him or that his rough exterior deserved judgment in her eyes. He was fine if she didn't like him, but he wasn't fine with being ignored and treated differently when he did nothing wrong.

He didn't know that it was the complete opposite. She saw him for the first time and swore she had never seen a man that beautiful. His skin looked soft and his face was flawless. He made her nervous and she wasn't sure how to react around him. So she tended to freeze around him, hoping if she didn't move a muscle he wouldn't notice the crush she had on him.

She would love to give him a hug, but then she's worried she wouldn't ever want to let go. To feel his chest against hers and arms wrapped around her, she'd probably stop breathing. She couldn't give him a kiss on the cheek like the others, she'd lose control and want to kiss his pink lips. She couldn't sit next to him without craving to crawl in his lap and feel his body heat for hours. She tried her best to talk to him but even then she could only get out a few words.

~~~

"Sorry, I'm late," Eddie apologized as he welcomed himself into Steve's place.

"No worries, it hasn't started yet," Steve said as commercials played on the television. Eddie scanned the room and sighed to himself when the only open spot was next to Y/N. He gave her a small smile and took the open spot. Her body tensing up didn't go unnoticed.

Y/N chewed on her lip nervously as Eddie's scent filled the room. Her mind was racing as she tried to distract her body from the fact that Eddie was only inches away from her.

She made sure she was as far to the one side of the couch as she could. Afraid if she touched him electricity would spark.

Eddie felt a small sting as he felt her body scoot away but he kept his eyes on the screen.

~~~

Y/N greeted the older gang with a hug and kisses on the cheek, working through the group. Eddie stood off by himself, watching as she embraced everyone but him.

"Hi Eddie," she said with a small smile, a nod in his direction.

"Hi," he said flatly. His tone caused her eyes to fall away instantly, but he didn't feel bad.

"Let's get this show on the road!" Robin called as she threw herself in Steve's passenger seat. Today, Robin, Steve, Nancy, Eddie, and Y/N planned a trip to the beach, and Y/N felt terrified. Not only would she have to be in a swimsuit in front of Eddie but he'd be shirtless in front of her. She made sure to pack sunglasses so if she found herself staring, it wouldn't be noticeable.

Eddie and Nancy slid in the car, leaving Y/N. She gulped as she noticed the middle seat was the only free spot.

"You don't mind sitting in the middle right?" Nancy asked, a smirk on her face. She knew all about the crush on Eddie and she enjoyed making Y/N's life hell.

"Oh... uh," her eyes looked over at Eddie, "yeah that's fine."

Eddie scoffed as he got out of the car, allowing her to move past him. Once she was squeezed in the middle, she let out a deep breath, glaring at Nancy. Eddie noticed the glare, his feelings a little hurt as he looked out the window.

The entire car ride Y/N was squeezed into Nancy's side, practically on her lap. Eddie wished it didn't bother him, but he thought Y/N was attractive, and he liked the personality she showed with her friends. He wished she would be like that with him, he wished she would give him a chance.

Once they arrived, Eddie fled from the car, stepping aside to smoke a much-needed cigarette.

"I think it bothers him that you ignore him," Nancy said as she watched him stand to the side.

"I don't know how to be normal around him!" Y/N whined, "he makes me nervous."

"Let's just try, small steps."

~

Y/N was soaking in the sun, keeping her eyes shut so she didn't constantly look at Eddie. Luckily, he was busy with Steve, so she had time to settle her thoughts.

She groaned when the sun went behind a cloud, ruining her tan. She opened her eyes, startled to see Eddie standing over her. She gulped as his frizzy hair shines in the sun, and how his sunglasses fit his nose perfectly. He stood shirtless, the sun beginning to soak into his pasty skin.

"We need to talk," he said, not letting her answer as he took a seat right next to her in the sand. His elbows dug into the hot sand as he held his body up, then his head turned to her.

Y/N was frozen, staring ahead as the waves brushed the shore.

"Look at me," he hissed, "and I won't tell you again."

She bit her lip as she ignored how hot her body was getting from his words. She turned her head, locking eyes with him through their sunglasses.

"Do you have a problem with me?"

Y/N shook her head immediately, "no" her voice was soft and shy.

"Then what's your deal?"

"Nothing," Y/N said, "I promise."

"Then why do you treat me differently? I get that we might be very two different people but you are judging me without getting to know me. And that bothers me."

Y/N had to give him credit for calling her out. He dealt with it for a while. She took a deep breath, fighting off the wave of nausea.

"I'm not judging you, and I never judged you. I have a crush on you," she admitted embarrassed, "you make me very nervous and I was scared. I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings." She watched his face for a reaction, holding her breath.

Then he began to smile. "You have a crush on me?"

She rolled her eyes at his cheeky smile and teasing tone. "Don't be an ass."

Eddie apologized, scooting closer. He pushed his sunglasses up into his hair, looking at her. She matched him, taking off her glasses as she nervously looked into his eyes.

"I think you're pretty and I'd love to get to know you better," his words made her heart race. "How about a date?"

She couldn't believe it. Eddie Munson asked her on a date.

"I'd love that."

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxthx @ineedmentalhelp123 @emxxblog

[linoxpudding]

Panic Attack- Han Jisung

summary: you have a panic attack but your boyfriend doesn't take it seriously

pairing: han jisung x fem!reader, bsf!lee know x reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

fic type: written + text

warnings: panic attack, hospital setting, IV drip mentioned

a/n: I combined this request and this request for this fic—please ignore any medical inaccuracies, as this was based on online research

Masterlist

~°~

Jisung sprinted through the hospital hallways, his lungs burning from the run, but he didn’t care. His mind was spinning, heart pounding, as he searched for Room 306. He felt sick. The last thing he had said to you was that he was busy.

And now you were here.

When he finally spotted Minho standing outside the room, arms crossed, expression unreadable, he rushed toward him, nearly stumbling in his panic.

“Where is she?” Jisung gasped. “Is she okay?”

Minho barely looked at him. “She’s stable.”

Jisung exhaled, relief washing over him for a split second before the weight of guilt crashed back down. “Why does she have to stay overnight?”

Minho’s jaw tightened. He sighed, running a hand through his hair before answering.

“She was hyperventilating for too long. It messed with her oxygen levels, her hands went numb, and she collapsed before the ambulance even got there.” His voice was sharp, clipped, but Jisung could hear the exhaustion beneath it. “She was severely dehydrated, too. They put her on an IV and gave her oxygen. They need to monitor her heart rate overnight to make sure she’s completely stable.”

Jisung felt like he couldn’t breathe. His chest ached with the weight of it. “She—she collapsed?”

Minho’s gaze finally met his, cold and sharp. “Yeah. She collapsed. And do you know what the worst part is?”

Jisung swallowed hard, barely able to force out the words. “What?”

Minho scoffed, shaking his head. “She didn’t even want my help. Because you refused it.” His voice was laced with anger now, eyes burning with something deeper than frustration—disappointment. “I had to convince her to let me call for help. She was begging me not to.”

Jisung felt like he was going to throw up.

“She didn’t want help because I—” His voice cracked.

“Because you made her feel like a burden,” Minho finished for him. “She was terrified, Han. And the one person she trusted to be there wasn’t.”

Jisung’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. His whole body trembled. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

“Then what the hell were you thinking?” Minho snapped.

Jisung sucked in a sharp breath. “I was busy! I was working on a song with 3RACHA, I—”

Minho let out a cold, humorless laugh. “Oh, you were busy?” His expression turned ice cold. “Chan and Changbin care about her too. You could’ve left.”

Jisung opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“You chose not to,” Minho continued. “And because of that, I was the one holding her while she begged me not to call for help. I was the one watching her struggle to breathe. I was the one who had to see her collapse.” His voice lowered, but the weight of his words crushed Jisung completely. “That should’ve been you.”

Jisung’s heart shattered.

“Minho hyung, I swear, I—I didn’t know it was this bad,” he choked out.

Minho exhaled harshly, crossing his arms again. “She told you it was bad.” His voice was quieter now, but somehow, that made it worse. “She begged you.”

Jisung’s eyes burned. He wanted to run into that room, fall to his knees, and beg for forgiveness. But as he glanced toward the door, a lump formed in his throat.

“…Can I see her?” he asked weakly.

Minho studied him for a moment before shaking his head. “She doesn’t want to see you.”

The words hit harder than any punch could.

Jisung staggered back slightly, his breath hitching. “Hyung, please,” he whispered. “Let me talk to her.”

Minho’s eyes softened for the briefest second before his expression hardened again. “You don’t get to make this about you, Han.”

Jisung dropped his gaze to the floor, his entire body trembling.

Minho sighed, voice lower now. “The only thing you can do now is wait and hope she forgives you.” He turned toward the door but paused. “Because right now? I wouldn’t.”

And with that, he stepped inside, leaving Jisung standing alone in the hallway, drowning in the weight of his own regret.

He hesitates before stubbornly decides to enter the room. But what if you didn’t want to see him? What if you told him to leave?

Would he even blame you?

Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside.

The sight of you hit him like a gut punch. You were lying in the hospital bed, looking exhausted—eyes heavy, face pale, body small beneath the thick hospital blanket. An IV was hooked to your arm. The sight alone made his stomach turn with guilt.

Minho was sitting on a chair beside your bed, arms crossed, his gaze burning into Jisung the moment he walked in. It wasn’t just anger in his expression. It was disappointment.

"Hey," Jisung croaked out. His voice felt foreign, like it didn’t belong to him.

You barely reacted. You glanced at him for half a second before looking away, as if he wasn’t even worth the energy.

That hurt more than if you had screamed at him.

“I—I didn’t know it was this bad,” he said, stepping closer. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. “I should’ve listened. I should’ve been there.”

No response.

“I don’t have an excuse.”

Silence.

Jisung felt like he was drowning. You always had something to say to him. Even when you both fought, even when you were annoyed—you never ignored him like this.

“Please say something,” he pleaded. “Anything.”

You let out a breath. When you finally spoke, your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“Why did you come?”

It felt like a slap.

Jisung’s throat tightened. “Because I care about you. Because I was stupid and I hurt you.” His voice cracked, but he didn’t care. “I should’ve dropped everything the second you needed me. And now you’re here because I didn’t.”

You sighed, your gaze still focused on the blanket, fingers playing with the fabric.

“I needed you,” you murmured. “And you weren’t there.”

Hisvheart shattered. He didn’t even know how to breathe past the guilt in his chest.

“I know,” he whispered. “And I don’t know how to fix it, but I want to.” He took a cautious step closer. “Please let me.”

Slowly, finally, you looked at him. Jisung wished you hadn’t because the hurt in your eyes physically pained him. It was so much worse than anger.

“I don’t know if I can trust you to be there when I need you anymore.”

Jisung’s breath hitched.

He had no idea what to say. The weight of your words settled in his chest like a stone, suffocating, immovable.

He had never felt this helpless before.

“Y/N…” His voice was barely above a whisper, his throat dry.

But you were already looking away again, your gaze unfocused, your fingers still gripping the blanket as if it was the only thing keeping you together.

Minho sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I told you she didn’t want to see you.” His voice was sharper now, edged with irritation. “You should go.”

Jisung's stomach twisted. He had never wanted to fight with Minho, never wanted to be on the receiving end of that cold disappointment. But more than that, he had never wanted to hurt you like this.

“I can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “Not like this.” He turned his attention back to you. “Please, Y/N, just tell me how I can fix this.”

You let out a hollow laugh, but there was no humor in it. Just exhaustion.

“You can’t.”

Jisung took another step closer, gripping the rail at the foot of the bed like it was the only thing keeping him standing.

“I can. I will.” His voice was desperate now. “Tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it. Anything.”

Your eyes flickered to him then. He could see the hurt, the anger, the exhaustion—all emotions that were directed at him.

“You ignored me,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “I was having a breakdown, and you told me you were busy.”

Jisung flinched.

You let out a slow breath.“I kept telling myself you’d text back. That maybe you just didn’t see my message right away. But then the hours passed, and I realized you did see it. You just didn’t care enough to respond.”

Jisung’s grip tightened on the railing. “That’s not true,” he whispered.

“Isn’t it?” Your eyes met his again, this time sharper. “Because it sure felt like it.”

Minho exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You really fucked up, Han.”

Han shut his eyes, swallowing down the lump in his throat. He knew that. He didn’t need Minho to tell him.

“I wasn’t thinking,” he admitted. His voice was strained, like it physically hurt to speak. “I thought… I don’t know, I thought it wasn’t that serious.” He shook his head. “I didn’t know it would get this bad, Y/N.”

“I told you,” you murmured. “You just didn’t listen.”

Han looked at you, searching for something—some opening, some way to make this right. But all he saw was the space he had created between them.

“I don’t know how to make this up to you,” he whispered, his voice raw. “But I need you to know that I never wanted to hurt you. I’d never forgive myself if…” He swallowed hard. “If something worse had happened.”

You didn’t say anything.

Minho stood up, placing a hand on your head before turning to Jisung. “You should leave.”

Jisung’s heart clenched. “Hyung—”

“Just for now,” Minho added, his voice softer but still firm. “She needs to rest. You being here is only making her more exhausted.”

He hesitated. Every instinct screamed at him to stay, to do something. But the way you looked at him—the emptiness in your expression—told him he had already done enough damage for one night.

“…Okay,” he finally whispered. “I’ll go.”

He turned to leave, his footsteps slow, heavy. But just as he reached the door, he glanced back.

You still weren't looking at him.

His stomach twisted as he feared he might have already lost you.

**************

Jisung didn’t leave the hospital that night.

Minho told him to go home, but he couldn’t. Instead, he sat outside your hospital room, back against the cold hallway wall, staring at the door as if sheer willpower alone could make everything right again.

But it wasn’t that simple.

He had messed up. Deeply. And now, the one person who meant the most to him didn’t trust him anymore.

That thought alone made it impossible to leave.

---

Morning came, and Jisung’s body ached from sleeping in the hallway. He wasn’t sure if Minho had let him stay out of pity or just given up trying to make him leave, but either way, he was still here.

And when the door finally creaked open, revealing you in a hospital gown, looking as exhausted as ever, his heart stuttered.

You blinked at him, clearly surprised. “…You’re still here?”

He scrambled to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah.” His voice came out rough, hoarse from a lack of sleep. “I—uh, I couldn’t leave. Not when things are like this.”

You sighed, stepping back into the room and letting the door stay open. An invitation, even if it wasn’t direct. He hesitated for only a second before following you inside.

You climbed back into bed carefully, wincing as you adjusted the blanket over your lap. Jisung watched you, guilt creeping back up his throat.

“Y/N…” He took a deep breath. “I meant what I said last night. I don’t know how to fix this, but I’ll do anything.”

You stared at your hands, fingers tracing the hem of the blanket. “Han… I don’t know if I can just forget this.”

“I don’t want you to forget,” Han said quickly, stepping closer. “I just—I want you to let me prove that I won’t let this happen again. That I’ll be better.”

You looked up at him then, searching his face. “…How?”

Jisung let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll listen. Even when I think it’s not a big deal, even when I don’t understand—I’ll listen. I’ll be there. No more excuses, no more brushing things off. You’re the most important person in my life, Y/N. I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t rely on me again.”

You bit your lip, eyes flickering with uncertainty.

For a moment, silence filled the room. He could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, waiting—hoping.

Then, you sighed. “You really hurt me, you know.”

He swallowed hard. “I know.”

You stared at him for another moment before finally, finally, patting the empty space beside you on the hospital bed. “Sit.”

His breath caught.

Without hesitation, he moved to sit beside you, careful not to hurt you. You leaned back against the pillows, looking tired but… softer. Less distant.

“I don’t know if I forgive you yet,” you admitted.

He nodded. “That’s okay.”

“…But you can start making it up to me by shutting up and letting me sleep.”

A small, breathless chuckle escaped him. He nodded again. “Deal.”

And as he sat there, watching over you as you closed your eyes, he silently promised himself—

He would never let you feel alone again.

[slightly-knot-insane]

Gentleman's Cage (part 1)

Monstertober 2024 - day 29 [ Caged Beast ] by @/ozzgin

[ m!werewolf x fem!reader ]

a/n: some regency smut, my first one so please be gentle! i was greatly inspired by @regency-monster-love and they were so kind to help me out too! thank you, dear! content: slightly nsfw

He can’t calm down. He knows you will be there, and he is getting very impatient to see you. Especially since you told him you find his courting very pleasing. It took him a while to reveal that he is a werewolf. But instead of running away screaming, you smiled and touched his hand. You even looked excited.

Just reminiscing about those few minutes put a smile on his face, his sharp canines showing underneath his lips. But thinking about you too much is also dangerous. His body - his lower body, to be more precise - reacts to the mere idea of you as if you're right next to him. Naked.

He groans, feeling his erection pushing against the fabric of his finest trousers. Being born with werewolf blood is both a blessing and a curse. He is aware that people will notice; anyone with eyes will notice the hardness alongside his inner thigh. That's why he hopes his little metal tool will help him. Or else, the scandal will follow him wherever he goes.

***

The fancy gathering is as lovely as he expects. People dance, eat and drink, and converse on various topics that barely interest him. He is looking for you with every sense he has - but they find nothing. He wants to ask someone, but even a mere question would raise suspicion. He doesn’t want anyone to know, not yet, that he fancies you rather intensely.

But he shouldn't think about you too much! He shifts his legs a little bit to position the metal contraption between his legs in a more comfortable way. Cock cage, they called it. Even while flaccid, it was hard to push his manhood inside. But he managed to lock his desire in - physically, at least. Mentally - not so much.

Finally, he catches a whiff of your sweat. You aren’t just fashionably late, you are very late so you were probably rushing down the path and up the stairs. Perhaps you were frustrated and nervous about some mishap, furiously fanning yourself in your carriage. And perhaps - only perhaps - you were thinking of him. Thinking about his eyes and teeth and tall frame. Perhaps you held your knuckle between your lush lips while the fingers of your other hand secretly wandered underneath your skirt and—

The painful jolt underneath his belt wakes him up from his daydreaming. Stop it, you fool! He curses internally and immediately turns toward the window, pretending to observe the night sky. He forces himself to think about what to eat for breakfast and what letters need answering, and then - just as his erection is starting to deflate - he hears your voice:

"Hello, Mr. Werewolf! Lovely evening, isn't it?"

And there is another strong pulse between his legs. While he would love to jump through the window and run, it would be improper and rude not to greet you. With a disturbing mental image of his grandfather bathing in his mind to cool him down, he turns to greet you: "Indeed, and you are..."

But he trails off. You've never looked as beautiful, so elegant. The cut on your dress is so deep he can enjoy your every curve and birthmark. He hopes he will be able to memorize all of them, like constellations. And your skin is so flushed and glowy he can barely stop himself from touching your cheeks, shoulders, or... He swallows hard.

You notice his terrified expression and can't help but giggle a bit. He, on the other hand, is not entertained even the slightest. "I apologize, my lady, I must... get a breath of fresh air!" And he hastily leaves you.

You hide your smile behind your fan and follow his trail carefully.

***

He has to do something! The cage... It's too tight! As he hides inside the hedge maze, he runs to the fountain that was standing just around the corner, hoping that the rush of water will hide his torture. He unbuttons his trousers and is not surprised to see his manhood swollen and pulsating between the metal sheets. The pain is mixed with a strange dose of pleasure edged with anticipation. Even though some other time he might've enjoyed exploring this sensation, now is definitely not a good moment. He needs to get rid of this self-imposed prison before he hurts himself more, but... he left the key... at home.

An exasperated sigh is all he can do right now. And thinking about dead puppies to somehow reduce the painful swelling. 

Just as his mental torture is starting to work, he smells something. Something sweet, potent, and familiar. So familiar. His erection re-emerges. Desperately, he turns around, attempting to hide his shame, and pushes himself (and the cage) into the hedges. He must look absolutely ridiculous.

"Oh my, you're here. Are you well?"

It is you. You followed him here. He takes a deep breath and smiles over his shoulder. "Y-yes, perfectly fine. I just needed some fresh air."

You approach his long tail, admiring his broad back and inhuman muscles. He is very tense - and you think you know why. "I'm sure the air will smell a lot fresher outside those hedges."

The tension struck his spine like lightning - he stands upright, not breathing. He knows he can't keep hiding. Hoping - praying - his shame is not so obvious.

He turns toward you, with a stiff and awkward smile, holding one of his huge hands over his crotch, trying to look relaxed. "Indeed... It's a lot f-fresher."

You can't actually look down since your curiosity would be too obvious then. Luckily, he is towering over you so his abdomen is leveled with your face, and it takes only a deep curtsy to see what you have been curious about since the day you met him. Only to not see what you expected. But you're sure his hand is hiding something scandalous? And delicious.

"Did your claws grow?" you ask him innocently.

The naïve werewolf lifts his hands to check them, uncovering his crotch. There is definitely an interesting and twitching bulge there.

"I don't think so. Are you... worried?" His yellow eyes grow in worry. "I would never lay a finger on you!"

You hum as if you are terribly bored. "Oh. That's a shame."

The beast in front of you looks entirely confused, the poor thing. "Shame?"

You approach him slowly, like you're dancing, and his eyes don't leave your figure. "I would love a bit more than a finger on me. Perhaps an entire hand." You cup his heavy, hairy hand. You feel exceptionally bold - there won't be many opportunities like this in your future. Only a boring life awaits you - if you allow that. "All over me, in fact."

[ part 2 ]

[skylar36]

I did have a time in high school where I felt like I “wasn’t me” anymore on my meds. I felt empty inside every time I took it and at some point something happened that scared me off then entirely. I’m usually very quick to smile and laugh and one day I got to school and was having breakfast with my friends and they were talking around me. I wanted to join in, but didn’t really feel like my heart was in it. And then someone said something I know for a fact I would usually find funny. I wanted to laugh. All I could manage was a fake smile. And then I realized that I couldn’t make myself smile.

This was so scary for me because I am not like that. I am a joyful person. I’m an optimist by nature. And to have my joy stripped from me was so terrifying that I started only taking my meds to help me focus during tests.

I forgot that it was an option to talk to my mom and my doctor to say hey these meds don’t work for me. I forgot that there were other meds to try. I had been on these meds for so long and I guess that discussion about them was so long ago that I just forgot that the pill everyone associates with my diagnosis is not the only one out there.

I told my mom about it during a fight a few months later and she was like “wtf why didn’t you tell me, let’s just take you to the doctor and try a different dose or medication” and I was like “I can do that?” And she was genuinely bewildered that I didn’t know that was an option.

Anyway I’m now on something that works much better for me to work, but I still struggle to do anything at home and I don’t know how much of that is me needing to change my own habits and how much of that is that my pill wears off when I get home and I have no motivations again. I’ll figure it out eventually.

Moral of the story for me kids, remember that you have options. The pill that you take first is the start of a journey of trial and error. Your journey could be very short, or it could be very long. You could keep going in a straight line with the same pill for a very long time before you find yourself twisting in a new direction. Or you could find yourself picking a new path at every fork in the road.

All of that is okay. Take your time on your journey. You will find your peace. It may come with a pill, it may come with a therapy, it may come with newfound connections or deepening old ones. You will be okay.

90s movies: Psychopharmacology is as good as a lobotomy. If you take pills to treat your mental illness it will literally murder your imaginary friends and you will become a boring, lotus-eating conformist drone.

Me after taking my meds: drives the scenic route home to see if there are any geese on the pond and does a little dance in line at the grocery store and comes home to throw everything​ in my fridge into a stew pot because I can finally taste food again while singing songs at my birds in which I replace all the instances of "she" with "Cheese" and doing a Dolly Parton impression on the phone to my sister

[brawberryz]

touch me i scream

Batfam Yan! × Elizabeth Afton!Reader

《Platonic》

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error / I don't know if this could be considered "neglected" reader since the negligence is only on Bruce's part, so maybe)? / FNAF AU!

Tw: child neglect, abuse, child murder, murder, maltreatment, yandere behaviors , self-harm, brief mention of suicide, isolation, knife use, toxic relationships, domestic violence, brief mention of drugs, psychological abuse, manipulation, dark themes

Weird

That's how you could consider your life, it was quite strange and boring, you always spent your time at home

Summer vacation had started and all you could do was stay home

You didn't have any friends, you only had your brothers

Your life was quite lonely, the only one you trusted too much was Damian

But these last few months he was behaving in a strange way, he had dark circles under his eyes and he never slept

The only times he did was for a short time, he seemed scared most of the time

Every time you got up in the early morning to drink water you found him crying on the floor of his room

He said he saw monsters, terrifying versions of the animatronics your father built

Those nights you used to accompany him so he could sleep but even so his paranoia didn't stop

A lot of blame was also because of Jason, he kept scaring Damian with that stupid foxy mask

You had tried to defend him but still Jason never he stopped

He always found a way to scare Damian

Richard had been the only one who managed to stop Jason's pranks

He was the older brother, he was hardly ever home before because he spent his time with his friends or at university

But since your mother disappeared he had to take care of all of you, he had to be a mother and father at the same time

Because he knew that Bruce didn't care about any of his children, sometimes you wished you could get away from here

Escape far away from this stupid "home", it stopped being considered home years ago

Your "father" who didn't even deserve to be called that, was an idiot and violent

At night you could hear your mother crying, she always fought with Bruce

It was normal for them to fight, and your father didn't mind hitting or insulting your mother

Richard tried many times to defend your mother from Bruce But the only thing he earned was a hit

You didn't understand why your mother She never fought back, she just accepted the blows and insults

But one night, you couldn't sleep because of the screams in the kitchen, they were fighting again

You slowly got out of bed to go spy, you wanted to know what was going on

It was a little weird that your parents were fighting at this time of night, you got a little closer to the door

Not enough, but you could barely see anything

The last thing you could hear was your mother screaming as she begged Bruce not to do it

You ran scared to your room, you could barely process what you saw

Your mother's screams and pleas were still in your head since that day

You hated yourself for never being able to tell what you saw

But your fear of ending up the same way as your mother prevented you from doing so

That day you realized what kind of monster your father was

You hated him so much, too much

You hated having to Seeing his face every day, you hated him touching you or just giving you a hug

You felt like gagging just thinking about him, he was the most reprehensible human being ever

And you hated him more for what he had done to Tim

Tim was your father's assistant, he used to work at the pizzeria with him

He also used to be a security guard at night

You could consider him a friend Even though he was much older than you

Sometimes you used to accompany your father to work and those days you took the opportunity to go talk to him

When you went back to accompany your father to work you looked for Tim all over the pizzeria, then your father told you that Tim had decided to quit

You frowned, you knew he was lying

He always lied, you just nodded pretending that you understood

Until one time your father asked you to take out the trash at the pizzeria, he said it would be good if you were useful for something

You just accepted it, a little offended by his comment. As you walked out the back door and put the trash in the bin, you saw something strange in a bag.

A little disgusted, you put your hand inside the trash and pulled out an identification plate.

But it wasn't just any old one, it was Tim's.

It had some dried blood stains, the blood didn't look old, it still had that red color.

You swallowed nervously and you felt like gagging. You fell to the rough ground and small tears fell from your eyes.

Someone you cared about had disappeared again and you couldn't do anything, absolutely nothing.

After that day, the streets of your neighborhood were full of "wanted" posters with Tim's face.

His parents were devastated by the disappearance of their son. He was so young and had a secure future.

Your father gave his condolences to Tim's parents.

What a hypocrite.

That was the only thing your head could think. Maybe you were just a little girl. but you understood much more than others would think

I hate you, Bruce Wayne

_

You officially hated this family

From one day to the next your brothers started acting weird, a few days ago you met a boy

They were the same age and he was your first friend in a long time

But as soon as they found out you made a friend they went crazy

Richard didn't let you go out alone anymore, and he sent Jason to keep a close eye on you

You could barely get close to your new friend without Jason giving you a murderous look

And because of that you had lost a friend, he was the first one you had

And he was gone, then you had a talk with Richard

He tried to justify himself saying that that boy wasn't a good influence

Why do you need friends when you have your brothers? They are much better than anyone you could ever meet

Also Damian had been clinging to you too much, his paranoia was multiplied by a thousand

You thought that this paranoia was because of those "pills" that your father gave him

You knew that they were not sleeping pills, those pills made him hallucinate

Bruce wanted to destroy each one of his children, and then he was going to rebuild them the way he wanted

Who would think that you would be his next victim, too bad things didn't go as well as he thought

_

Your father's new pizzeria had opened to the public, "Sister location"

This time he opened the pizzeria without Clark's help, the two of them used to be best friends

Bruce and Clark opened the first pizzeria together, but since the death of Jon his son everything had changed for him

He had fallen into great guilt and depression

The death of his son and the unexpected divorce with his wife had left him in a bad state

He had decided to withdraw from the project

Leaving Bruce alone, and it was something that didn't bother him either

He had gotten what he wanted, he had already gotten Clark and his stupid morals out of his way

Your plan was almost complete, he had justice on his side

He had made sure that not a single policeman suspected him, you could say that he was about to commit a perfect crime

_

You found yourself crying on the floor, your cheek hurt from your father's blow

You had decided to enter your father's study without permission and spilled coffee on his plans

Bruce had become furious, you tried to apologize but it only made his anger grow

"Can't you do something right!?"

You could only look down as more tears fell from your eyes

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do it, it was an accident..."

Bruce sighed angrily before forcibly lifting you off the ground and telling you to get out of his studio

You just nodded scared, running out the metal door

You hated this, sometimes you just wished you could die

You didn't want to be here, you wanted this to be over once and for all

_

You walked through the aisles of the pizzeria, your cheek still hurt

Your tears had dried but your hate and sadness were still there

Your body stopped as soon as you saw Baby

The animatronic that your father had made for you, one day you gave him a drawing and he used that as inspiration

That day you were so happy, for the first time you had felt your father's love

Too bad this was a trap disguised as a gift

You entered the shameless room where the animatronic was

It seemed strange to you that it was separated from the other animatronics

As soon as the animatronic detected you, its eyes sparkled

"Baby..."

The animatronic's name came out of your lips, your eyes sparkled with happiness

After a long time you could finally see it

The animatronic's stomach opened surprising you

A small ice cream came out of it, it was your favorite flavor

You thought that your father had made it just for you

You approached slowly, your arm getting close to the ice cream

You could barely react when the claw pierced you and threw you towards the animatronic

A scream of pain was heard throughout the room, you felt your ribs breaking and your organs being crushed by the claw

The last thing you felt was your bones being destroyed as you completely entered the stomach of the animatronic

The animatronic barely caught your body inside its stomach when it turned off, her task had been completed

The only thing left in this bloody scene was the blood on the floor and the stomach of the animatronic

That day the innocence of another child had been snatched away by Bruce Wayne's claws

And this time the victim was his daughter

A small tinkling in the eyes of the animatronic illuminated the empty and dark room, they had changed color

The same color as your eyes

_

Bruce had gone to He checked the animatronics, he thought they had completed their mission

He was very surprised when he found your body crushed between the wires of baby

At that moment something changed inside him, you weren't supposed to end up like this

If one of your brothers had ended up like this he wouldn't care much, but you?

Yes, he was a horrible father but there was a part of him that cared about you

But he also discovered something, remnant

Your body had produced that

Also your soul had merged with the animatronic, it was something he realized when he saw baby's eyes

That day he had fallen further into imminent madness

But everything has its end

_

Richard sighed tiredly as he parked his car in front of the "Sister location" store

It had been a year since everything happened

Too bad your death wasn't the only incident that happened in the family

Since your death Richard began to neglect his other brothers, guilt consumed him and he had no one to vent to

Also the jokes had increased on Jason's part, and he had begun to take it out on Damian

And his jokes began to become more dangerous

until one day on Damian's birthday Jason decided to play one last joke on him

He decided to put him inside the mouth of one of the animatronics, too bad not everything went well

The animatronic's jaw ended up crushing Damian's skull while he asked Jason to get him out of there

That had marked Jason forever, he had fallen into a deep depression

Your death and Damian's death filled him with guilt, he had killed one of his

He was a murderer

After a time of depression and self-harm Richard found him hanging in his room

Richard's mental state began to worsen, it seemed as if the world was against him

His life was full of misfortunes

The only thing that kept him afloat was a little voice in his head that told him not to give up

It sounded just like you

Then Bruce decided to disappear by moving somewhere and only leaving a farewell note

From time to time he sent Richard money but he had to work so as not to end up on the street

Because Bruce cared very little about his safety

Until one day Bruce called him, told him to go to sister location

He was going to refuse until Bruce confessed everything to Richard

You were there, or well

Your body was there, he told him that you died because of an animatronic and that your soul and body were there

And the only way to Freeing you was going back there, that was the only thing Bruce needed to tell Richard before he grabbed all his things to go to that abandoned pizzeria

He sighed nervously as he approached the pizzeria, he had lost you years ago

And the guilt continued to eat away at him

But this time he had another chance and he had to do whatever it took to free you from that hell

But it was just a trap, a trap disguised as hope and sweet lies

Your soul had been corrupted and the only thing left was hate and resentment

Resentment for the hate of the man who did this to you, the purple man

I hate you Bruce Wayne

But this time I will have my revenge, we will have our revenge

I am not afraid of you anymore, not anymore

reuploaded because for some reason tumblr deleted it lol

[telephoniii]

WHY WOULD A FELLOW WANT A GIRL LIKE HER?

☆彡 in which malleus and leona fight for your affections

leona kingscholar x gn!reader & malleus draconia x gn!reader

word counter: 4K

warnings: reader is prefect, cursing, love triangle, possible ooc

a/n: based off of the song “stepsister’s lament” from cinderella the musical— hence the title. one of my favorite works!! I had fun writing this!! both mal and leona are capital p PETTY and I'm living for it. i hope you enjoy :>

No matter how much he claims he doesn't care, Leona finds himself hissing at the sight of you and Malleus together. He wants to deny it so badly— but deep down he knows. 

He knows as he glares at you, sitting on a bench beside the fae, giggling and having a jolly old time. He’s well aware of what he’s feeling as he scoffs, telling the greedy hyena beside him that he’s returning to the dorm.

And he’s fully conscious as he lays in bed, staring at the ceiling; unable to get the image of you and that spiny horned reptile out of his head. 

He’s jealous. Envious. And any damn variation of the sort.

Out of all the people you could choose to spend your time with, you pick that slimy lizard?! 

Your taste is questionable—who’s he kidding? Absolutely awful. Really, going for the guy who doesn’t age? Ever think about how awkward it’s going to be when you’re getting hip pains and he still looks like a teenager? Hell, he’s not one for settling down but wouldn’t you at least want someone with the capacity of growing old together?!

What does that scaley little scumbag do for you anyway?

Sure, Malleus does gift you little trinkets you’ve mentioned in passing. Leona isn’t blind; he can see the way you light up at these gifts. He distinctly remembers seeing a dorky gargoyle keychain on your bag. It stank of that fae freak. 

Yet you seemed to adore the tiny statue, so much so that you went on a small rant about the history. To Leona’s surprise, he listened to every single word you had to say about it. Gargoyles are always way more interesting when it’s you talking about it. 

Though, everything involving you is more interesting nowadays… He had to resist the urge to sand that stupid little toy right then and there.

And he’s well aware of the ‘secret’ walks the two of you have at unholy times of the night, talking about whatever that overgrown lizard is interested in. The way you speak of it like nobody knows is irritating. Only an idiot wouldn’t pick up on it. 

Too bad NRC is full of idiots.

It’s not like it matters too much anyway. He doubts Malleus has the charisma to charm you. The guy isn’t invited to a whole lot of events for a reason. While Leona knows he can come off as a prick, he’s still a prince nonetheless. He was taught how to flatter and flirt— he remembers being surrounded by a bunch of bootlickers as a cub. 

He isn’t intimidated by Malleus’s magic all too much either. Although he’s more than sure you wouldn’t fall for a person solely based on their strength, Leona believes he could take on Malleus. The lizard is painfully predictable after all. 

Not to mention most of his ‘shows of power’ are akin to temper tantrums. If dueling wasn’t banned, that pathetic excuse of a dragon would be dragged in the mud by him.

Everything Malleus does for you, he could do better. He’s sure of it. 

Beneath the surface, is he scared of coming second place to yet another person? Terrified that he’ll always be the second-best choice? That all the time spent with you would never be more than that? Maybe. 

But those night terrors are lessened when he sees you approach— knowing he was the sole reason you were there. 

Leona feels his heart race as you sit beside him, casually talking about your day and whatever hijinks you got into. He worries you might hear just how fast it beats for you when you nap with him, laying your head on his chest. 

As he hears you mumble his name in your sleep, he feels reassured that he’s your one. 

I mean— why would someone as great as you ever want a flimsy, little lizard? Especially when he’s right here, ready to be your pillow in hard and happy times. 

~

A green thunderbolt struck through the sky. Coincidentally, you happened to be napping on Leona outside when this happened— shaking the both of you awake.

Did Malleus do this on purpose?… Of course not. He’s not immature enough to do that, unlike a certain lion he knows.

It’s not his fault that you two were cuddling outside when he was ‘testing’ out something with his thunder.

That doesn’t mean he was any less satisfied watching you get up and walk back to your dorm, leaving that mangy cat by himself.

He never understood what value you gained from hanging around someone as…unusual as Kingscholar. A ‘prince’ who lays around, sleeping the day away? What a joke! Wouldn’t you rather have a prince— better yet a ruler— who’s proactive in his kingdom?

That flappy street cat is better suited to accompany Grim rather than yourself. 

He doubts Kingscholar would hold open the door for you like he does! 

Malleus has heard it’s a human custom to do so; ever since then, he’s now perfected the art of swiftly rushing over to a door and slamming it open for you. It delights him when you giggle at his antics. He bets that idiotic lion would never be able to do that— Kingscholar barely moves anyway. It’s like he’s glued to that bed of his.

Kingscholar seems as though he’d let the door slam in your face. That alone just shows how superior Malleus is to him. 

Although, Kingscholar’s words of advice indeed seemed to matter to you quite a lot. Every time you had attracted chaos, you commonly turned to the lazy loaf and asked for his perspective. And each time, without fail, Mal had watched you take the prince’s suggestion in stride and use it.

It pains him to admit it, sometimes Kingscholar can be rather clever. Malleus is somewhat glad that said lion uses his intelligence to keep you safe.

He doesn’t know what, but something about Kingscholar’s mere existence seems to relax you. Malleus has seen you look at ease in a way he’s never witnessed before when you simply just lay beside the other student. He watches with envy as Kingscholar’s tail protectively wraps around your thigh. 

As long as you’re safe… Malleus supposes he can bear through you hanging out with the lion.

That won’t stop him from interrupting the two of you whenever he feels the time is right. Sudden bolts of thunder, random objects falling from the sky and hitting Kingscholar on the head, out-of-the-blue power outages…

It’s all fair play to him. You still get to hang out with that lazy excuse of a prince anyway.

It doesn’t matter too much to him— at least that’s what he tells himself. It’s not as though you’d leave him to hang out with Kingscholar; no, you’d never. 

You’ll stay, won’t you?

He’s sure of it as you walk beside him in the dead of night. Nobody else knows, nor do they need to as you two stroll along the campus. Seeing your enthusiastic smile next to him as you talk about your dreams fills him with unexplainable joy. Malleus fights the urge to hold your hand, interlocking your fingers with his.

You seemed to have read his mind— you always do understand him like no other— as you glanced down at your hands. A small giggle leaves your lips before you inch your hand closer to his.

“Can we…?” You hum with hopeful and amused eyes.

Wordlessly, Malleus indulges now with your consent. The warmth of your hand compared to the polarizing coldness of his made him feel dizzy. In a good way. 

You’ll never leave him. At least not when you're hand in hand together like this.

~

“Man I’m starving— Hurry it up, henchman!” A familiar, squeaky voice demanded as Grim pushed on your shoulder. 

“Patience, patience. This is very important. It can determine my mood for the rest of the day.” You murmured, standing strong despite Grim’s efforts. Narrowing your eyes, you stared at the different lunch options. 

What were you going to eat today?

“Prefect has a point. Your nutrition affects the way you function.” Jack shrugs behind Grim, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“You say that like they’re going to eat something healthy.” Ace yawns, stretching out his arm and lightly hitting Deuce. “Hurry it up, Prefect! Clock’s ticking!”

“Fine! Fine!” Quickly, you grabbed the same thing you’ve gotten for the past week. A series of groans emerged from behind you.

“All that time just to get that?” Ace crossed his arms, giving you an unamused look. 

“Okay, I’ll get something else then—“

“—Nononononono!” Practically everyone behind you yelled in a panic.

“Just go sit down ‘n secure us a table already!” Epel huffs, to which you happily comply.

You scout out the area, looking for a free table to sit at. Geez, was the cafeteria always this packed?

A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you spot a familiar, robotic Shroud waving to you from a table.

“Prefect!” Ortho chirps, his voice synthesizer going a pitch up. Just as you were about to walk over, you felt your blazer being pulled on from the back. Suddenly, you were yanked away.

“Ay! Watch it—!” You grab the hand that was pulling on you, turning around to come face to face with a smug Ruggie.

“Leona’s callin’ you.”

You rolled your eyes.

“He didn’t want to send a text or call? He just had to send a goon to come and get me?” 

Ruggie nodded with a cheeky grin.

“Yep.”

Groaning, you turn towards Ortho and wave him goodbye, signaling that you are going to leave. “Lead the way, hyena.”

And with that, you found yourself walking through the hallways on your way to Savanaclaw. You hope Ortho told the others about you leaving. It kinda slipped your mind to tell them.

You snapped out of your thoughts as you heard munching coming from Ruggie— “Wait, that's my lunch you’re eating! How’d you even…!? When did you…?!”

It also slipped your mind that Ruggie is both a great thief and greedy when it comes to food.

“Shishishishi… you left yourself open, Prefect! I’m sure Leona will get you something else to eat. He always does.”

“Always is a stretch.” You grumble, watching Ruggie eat your food. “Is it?” You didn’t want to ponder his question. 

Instead, you turn your gaze ahead of you and focus on walking… At least that’s what you would be doing if you didn’t walk face-first into somebody. 

“Gah! I’m so sorry—“ “Child of man.” 

Only one person used that nickname for you. Looking up, you were met with Malleus’s amused smile. 

“Impeccable timing,” The fae seemed happy to see you. You could see his fangs the way he was smiling. Ruggie was unsettled but thankful that Malleus was ignoring his presence. “Would you accompany me for lunch? Lilia, Sebek, and Silver will be there too, of course.” 

You were about to accept right away before you felt a light hit to your side. Ruggie sneakily elbowed you. Before you could curse at him, he gave you a look and— Oh, right. You were going with him to spend lunch with Leona already. A small frown made its way on your lips as you turned back to Malleus.

Great sevens, it was hard to turn him down. Especially when he was all cheery like this. 

Fortunately— or unfortunately, you didn’t have to. A roaring voice from behind you did it for you.

“Herbivore’s coming with me. They agreed to it already.” Leona huffed, a scowl clear on his face as he approached. Ruggie seemed surprised.

“Leona?! What’re you—“ “Did they now? I didn’t exactly hear them say no to my proposal though.” Malleus interrupted Ruggie, whose ears went flat against his head. 

“They don’t need to. They’ve already got plans.” The lion growled, narrowing his eyes at the other third year. 

Malleus stepped forward, the fae’s irritation growing. “Why do you insist on speaking for them so vigorously? My dear child of man, don’t let him dictate your choices—“

“I’m not doing shit. Just stating what they already agreed to.” Leona also stepped forward, refusing to back down. 

You were starting to get worried and turned your head to murmur something to Ruggie. Except Ruggie wasn’t there. The hyena snuck off already. Bastard. A voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Well, Prefect? Who would you rather accompany? Kingscholar— who’ll likely laze around the whole lunch— or I?”

“Damn lizard…” Leona grumbled under his breath before shaking his head and facing you. “Well? The choice is yours. I wouldn’t force you to do anything.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, your gaze flickering between the two. “Well… I—“

Before you could finish, you were interrupted by a loud ring.

The lunch bell had rung. It was time to head back to class.

~

“Are you doing okay?” You ask, shifting closer to Leona. He lets out a small grunt in response, his eyes closed as he sprawled out in his usual spot inside the Botanical Garden. 

For as tough as Leona was, he was unusually soft when tired. He carried this relaxing air around him. That no matter what happens, you’ll be okay with him around. The thought makes you smile as you tilt your head at him.

He was also kinda cute when he laid there like that—

“Quit staring.”

Leona abruptly huffed out. Blinking in surprise, you soon realize that one of his eyes was cracked open. A tiny blush finds its way on your cheeks while he stutters out an apology. The lion’s lips soon form a smug grin.

“You were looking at me pretty attentively, herbivore…” His words are slow and agonizing. Leona’s tail swishes up and down as he leans in closer. Your eyes widen as he comes mere inches away from your face; from your lips.

“…Got something you want to tell me?” You feel your breath hitched at the sudden, feather-light touch of Leona’s hand against yours. Just as you were about to respond—

“Roi du Lions!” 

The romantic atmosphere Leona so carefully built went down the drain, along with his motivation. A groan left his lips.

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to interrupt.” Trey soon appears behind Rook, an apologetic expression on his face. You shake your head, standing up. 

“You’re good! What’re you two up to?” 

Leona had an annoyed look on his face as you engaged with the other students. He tried to ignore and drown out everyone’s voices. At least he was, till Rook caught his attention.

“During an exploration for new ingredients that we could bring to our club, Roi de Dragons made a magical appearance.“ You raised a brow while Leona’s ear flicked.

Trey let out a small chuckle at Rook’s dramatic storytelling.

“Malleus just asked us to find something for him in the Botanical Garden.” 

Leona’s scowl deepened. That damn lizard.

“Maybe we could help! What’re you looking for?” You offered.

Trey soon fiddled with his pocket, searching for something. Shortly after, he pulls out a piece of paper. “A… toy? It looks like this. Malleus said he last had it here.”

You made an “O” shape with your mouth. “His virtual pet! Gao-Gao!” Trey lets you hold the paper, letting you get a closer look at the drawing that resembled Malleus’s Tamogachi. 

“I know what it looks like, I’ve got no idea where he could’ve left it though…” Soon enough, you, Trey, and Rook are scouring the Botanical Gardens for this little toy. Leona finds this stupid. 

Slightly bitter about his ruined moment, he lays back down to take a nap.

That’s when his ear flinched after hitting something hard. Turning around with a displeased look, Leona’s eyes narrowed.

There, in his favorite sleeping spot was Malleus’s dumb toy —which wasn’t there literally minutes ago might he add. Picking it up, Leona contemplated crushing the small electronic. However, as he held it, the lion was quick to notice a bit of ink getting on his fingers. 

He turned the Tamogachi around. Written on the back with a blue pen was “Kingscholar :)”

Oh, that fucking Draconia did this on purpose.

~

Sitting up from your bed, you rub your eyes. With an annoyed groan, you get up and go to the door— trying not to wake Grim in the process. You could feel the ghost watching with curiosity. Not that you blamed them. Hell, you were curious too!

Who was knocking at 2 in the morning!?

The sun wasn’t even up. Ramshackle probably looked horrid, inside and outside, at this time.

You weren’t looking too great either: bags beneath your eyes, saggy pajamas, slouched posture… Vil would die on the spot if he saw you. Internally, you prayed it was anybody but him. And thank the Sevens that your prayer was answered.

You titled your head in confusion at the one in front of you.

“Malleus?” He smiled back at you. As though his appearance on your doorstep at the crack ass of dawn was the most normal thing ever.

“Greetings.”

You shook your head, still waking up and trying to make sense of the situation. “Do… Do you need something?”

Now he looked confused. Which only heightened your confusion.  The fae furrowed his brows. “Did you not want to talk, child of man?” 

“I like talking with you! Just, preferably not this early in the morning— Look, why are you here? Did you just want to hang out, Tsunotarou?” You tried being as polite as possible, but damn you were tired. 

Malleus looked just as lost as you.

“…Perhaps you’ve forgotten about the letter you sent me?” You look to the side, slightly scrunching your nose as you try to remember what ‘letter’ he was referring to. 

“Uhh— When did I send this letter?” You give him an apologetic smile. It wasn’t too far-fetched; the idea of you giving him an invitation to Ramshackle. 

However, you feel as though you would’ve remembered if you had actually done it. And you would’ve hoped that past you would be smart enough to set your invitation time to anytime BUT 2 AM. 

“I recall receiving this letter yesterday, in the library,” Malleus explained, his hand reaching into his pocket to find said paper. “You slipped it to me when you walked by—“

The fae grabbed his invitation, only for him to be met with sand that trickled down his hand.

“—with Kingscholar…” He fell silent as he stared at the tiny particles in his hand. You seemed to catch on quickly, giving him a sympathetic look as your eyes flickered between the sand and him.

“Tsunotarou, did you see me give you this letter?” 

The way he averted his eyes to the side, his pale cheeks faintly turning pink from embarrassment, already gave you the answer you needed. It’d be cute if not for the circumstances. As expected, Malleus shook his head.

“My apologies… I assumed it was you since I had acquired it right after you had waved at me and it was an invitation to Ramshackle.”

You let out a small chuckle before brushing off the sand that still dirtied his hand. “Don’t sweat it. It’s not your fault that Leona is… well Leona and he does stuff like this.” Offering Malleus a smile, your hand soon intertwined with his. The blush on his cheeks subtly brightened.

“Well, you did come all this way just to hang out. It’d be a shame to turn you away now. Here, come.” You kick the door to open it wider and pull the fae inside Ramshackle. Leading him to the couch, you could gauge that Malleus was amused by your antics. Practically dragging one of the top mages in the world by the arm into your dorm…

“Let me just freshen up first! Wait here— I’ll be right back. Then we could watch some movies or whatever.” You shrugged with a grin before running upstairs to wash up. Malleus gave you a polite and happy wave as you exited.

Once you left, he let out a sigh and leaned back on the couch. His hands balled into fists as he felt more sand pooling in his pockets. A green bolt of lightning struck from the sky.

That measly fucking lion.

~

You let out an aggravated sigh. Did they not think you realized what both of them were doing to each other? Between the Tamagotchi incident and the whole letter debacle a few nights ago, they were being so obvious.

Jeez, you get that they had a rivalry going on and whatnot, but why did they have to involve you? Fed up and rambling, you look to your side at Grim to get his thoughts on the matter. He sat next to you in the kitchen, munching away on a can of tuna.

“They’re getting really annoying! Stealing my henchmen’s time like that…” A chuckle left your lips at Grim’s bitterness, causing you to pet him on the head. 

“Mhm. I just want them to quit it— at least around me. I’m good friends with both and care a lot about them… Also, don’t talk with a mouthful.” You lightheartedly huff, getting up from your seat to grab Grim another can of tuna as he was beginning to finish his first. He usually ate two to three cans before bedtime.

“Why don’t ya just tell 'em?” The cat curiously asked with a tilt of the head, staring at you. You let out a snort. “Yeah, just tell two extremely powerful mages with an intense hatred for one another to stop. Like that’ll work.”

Grim let out an annoyed groan at your sarcasm. You opened a new can of tuna and slid it to him. His frown quickly disappeared as he began to dig in.

“Eh— sounds like Leona and Malleus could use some quality time together.” Grim offhandedly comments, chewing away on his food. 

“What did I say about talking with a mouthful, man?” You roll your eyes before falling silent, pondering his words. Quality time… Leona… Malleus…

“Grim! You’re a genius!”

~

“Herbivore, what the hell.” Leona’s tone was unamused, giving you a deadpan look.

“I thought it’d be nice if we hung out all together! As a group?” 

The two men stared daggers at each other across the small, dusty table in Ramshackle. With a nervous chuckle, your eyes flickered between the two as you slowly passed out cards for some random board game that Idia lent you.

Leona and Malleus didn’t take their eyes off one another. It was at this moment you were starting to think that Grim, in fact, was not a genius.

These two were definitely going to kill each other.

[cringywhitedragon]

”They said it would destroy us all if it got loose. And they were right.”

A once thriving colony.

“98% of Otania has been infested by an alien lifeform we call the Dredge. Anything it infects is converted into one of its drones.”

“The Federation has set up a blockade around the planet. Nothing can get in or out.”

Fighting for survival.

“It’s only a matter of time before one of those creatures finds a way to breach the wall. And when they do, the fleet above us have orders to bombard the planet until nothing remains alive. Including any survivors.”

Their only hope lies in

”My father was always a busy man. But on those rare days off, he would do all he could to spend as much time as he could with mom and I.”

“He never spoke much about his work offworld. Not until now.”

“What are these?”

“Notes. Notes that might be our only chance at saving this place.”

One just like the enemy

“Salutations, I am the Artificial Replicating Unit. You may call me ARU.”

“A self replicating artificial intelligence? I thought the Federation outlawed those years ago after that incident on the Cyclon?”

“I can promise you that I have no intention of going rogue. If anything, the thought of seeing myself as a God terrifies me…”

“O Connell, I think you’re scaring them.”

A scientist and a reluctant smuggler must journey offworld.

“You’re looking to get off this planet then, you’re looking right at him. Captain Daniel O Connell at your service.”

“Ranolnt? The 4th planet in this system!? There’s no way in hell. The federation patrols that place more than a swarm of Hydralian Sandshulkers do their nest.”

“Just trust me on this.”

A twist on the old tales of rogue AIs and a love letter to the genre of sci fi

“Just like you, I am capable of expressing what humans call emotions. Like now! SECURITY DRONE AHEAD!”

“ARU!”

“I am ok. The rover might be damaged beyond usability but this drones works even better.”

“I never thought I would be saying this but ARU acts so… Human. I don’t know what your father did when designing them but he sure did a damn good job at it.”

A tale of hope, love, and secrets.

“I don’t know what you two found that was so important but it better be worth it!”

“This has to be one of the craziest journeys of my life. And I just want to say thank you.”

“Thank you for being here.”

Activating self destruct sequence in t minus 5 minutes

“No! You can do this to him!”

And just what it means for something to truly be considered “Human”

“He never treated it like a machine. He treated them like one of his own children.”

“I may be made of metal but that doesn’t mean I cannot show love.”

Man of Machine

”Why…. You are a Myraid like us. Why would you defend them?”

“Because they created me- and that’s enough for my gratitude.”

Coming Summer 2026

"Why? You are myriad like us... Why would you defend them?" the powerful hive mind asks the united army it's fighting, speaking through a million bodies, but still understood. "Because they created me—and that's enough for my gratitude," the machines respond in unison.

[holyblonded]

the putellas test | birds of a feather

pairings: hopkins!paige bueckers x black!oc, alexia putellas x platonic!reader, alba putellas x platonic!reader

summary: alexia plans a series of test to see if paige is worthy enough to date her niece

warnings: none(?)

notes: i’m finding my grove back for this series 👻

Paige had barely stepped foot inside the Putellas household when she realized two things:

1. Alba was definitely the fun, carefree aunt.

2. Alexia Putellas was about to ruin her life.

It wasn’t that Paige had expected smooth sailing. She had heard plenty of stories about La Reina from Cecilia. The unwavering discipline. The intensity on and off the pitch. The death stares. Cecilia always said it with love, of course, but that didn’t make it less terrifying.

And now here Paige was, standing in the middle of the Putellas living room, completely at the mercy of one of the greatest footballers in history.

“Ah, so this is Paige Bueckers,” Alexia said, arms crossed, her voice void of any warmth. Paige blinked at the intensity in her gaze.

She had met Geno Auriemma, a man who practically yelled for a living, and he still didn’t intimidate her half as much as Alexia Putellas did in that moment.

“Uh, yeah. Hi?” Paige offered, throwing in a small wave for good measure.

Cecilia, her own girlfriend, stood off to the side, looking way too amused for someone who was supposed to love her.

“She’s real, Ale,” Alba teased from the couch, sipping her coffee like she was about to enjoy a show. “Not a hologram.”

“Yet to be determined,” Alexia muttered, her eyes narrowing slightly. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she straightened up and gave Paige a once-over, scanning her like a book.

Paige had never felt so judged in her life.

“Do you have a problem?” she blurted before she could stop herself.

Alba choked on her coffee.

Cecilia’s eyes widened. “Paige why—”

Alexia raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

Again, Paige had two options: backtrack immediately and pray for survival or commit to it.

She sighed. “You’re staring at me like I just walked into a courtroom without a lawyer.”

Alba burst into laughter breaking the silence, actually wheezing as she clutched her stomach.

“Oh, I like her,” Alba grinned, wiping a tear from her eye. “You picked a good one, neboda (niece).”

Alexia, however, remained stone-faced. Paige swallowed.

Cecilia, still looking a little worried, decided to step in. “Ale, don’t scare her off. I’ve had this one since kindergarten.”

Alexia exhaled loudly and finally uncrossed her arms. “Fine,” she said. “Let’s see if she survives the test first.”

Paige froze. “The what?”

Alba whistled. “Oh, this is gonna be fun. She did these with my partners too.”

“How well do you know Cecilia?” Alexia demanded, hands on her hips.

Paige blinked. “Uh… really well?”

“We’ll see about that.” Alexia pulled out a notebook and flipped to a page clearly labeled “Paige Test.”

Alba snorted. “Oh, she’s been planning this.”

Paige’s heart started racing. “Is this a joke?”

Alexia stared at her like she had just said she preferred orange juice over apple juice.

“First question,” Alexia said, ignoring Paige’s mild panic. “What’s Cecilia’s go-to comfort meal?”

“Easy,” Paige smirked. “Cocas.”

Cecilia grinned. “Correct.”

Alexia frowned, flipping the page. “Butchered the pronunciation, but, fine. What was Cecilia’s favorite toy as a kid?”

Paige didn’t even hesitate. “Her stuffed koala, Coco.”

Alba gasped. “Wait, Coco still exists?”

Cecilia groaned. “Yes, and now I regret telling Paige she’s still around.”

Paige beamed. Alexia narrowed her eyes.

“Alright, last one,” Alexia muttered. “What was the name of Cecilia’s first pet?”

Paige hesitated, then said, “She never had a pet.”

Cecilia gave her a proud nod. “Correct.”

Alba whistled. “Damn, I was hoping you’d get that one wrong. Just cause.”

Alexia huffed, clearly annoyed that Paige passed the first round. “Fine. But that was just the warm-up.”

Paige suddenly had a bad feeling.

“Why are we at a field?” Paige whispered, standing stiffly on the pristine turf pitch as if she’d accidentally wandered into a gladiator arena.

Alexia smirked, casually tossing a ball between her hands like a villain in a sports movie. “If you’re going to date my niece, you need to prove you’re worthy.”

Paige crossed her arms. “I feel like I should’ve signed a waiver for this.”

“Beat me in a 1v1.”

Paige blinked. “What.”

On the sidelines, Cecilia was already cackling, her phone out to document the unfolding disaster. “Amor, I love you, but you’re so screwed.”

Alba, who had settled comfortably into a lawn chair with an iced coffee, nearly choked on her drink. “Oh, this is going to be hilarious.”

Paige turned back to Alexia. “You’re playing like it’s a Champions League final, aren’t you?”

Alexia raised a brow. “Of course.”

Paige exhaled. “Cool. Just wanted to mentally prepare myself before I get sent into early retirement.”

The game started, and within ten seconds, Paige knew she was doomed. Alexia moved like she was playing an intense game, which, unfortunately for Paige, meant she had not a single ounce of mercy in her bones. The second Paige even thought about trying to defend, Alexia nutmegged her so smoothly that Alba screamed from the sidelines, falling out of her chair in laughter.

“Oh my god—SHE COOKED YOU,” Alba howled, kicking her feet on the ground.

Cecilia wasn’t much better, barely holding the camera steady as she gasped through laughter. “Amor, bend your knees, stay low—oh, never mind. She got you again.”

Paige was starting to sweat. She knew she wasn’t a football player, but this was getting embarrassing. She tried again, this time using her basketball instincts to anticipate Alexia’s movement. It almost worked until Alexia spun around her like she was an orange traffic cone and easily slotted the ball into the mini goal.

Paige groaned. “Did you have to add the spin move? That was excessive.”

Alexia smirked. “I was holding back.”

“Holding back?” Paige echoed, hands on her knees. “I think my soul left my body on that last turn.”

Alba clapped her hands like a delighted spectator. “Ale, you should’ve been a bullfighter. The way you let her charge and then just moved out of the way? Beautiful.”

Paige shot Alba a betrayed look. “You’re supposed to be the fun aunt.”

“I am,” Alba grinned. “That’s why I’m enjoying this so much.”

Fifteen minutes later, Paige lay face-down on the grass, sweaty, breathless, and questioning every decision in her life.

Alexia stood over her like a victorious warrior. “That was embarrassing.”

Paige groaned, her voice muffled against the grass. “You slide tackled me.”

“This is Spain,” Alexia shrugged. “We don’t take it easy.”

Cecilia jogged over, shaking her head. “Ale, you’re literally the most overprotective person in the world when it comes to family, but you just sent my girlfriend flying across the field.”

Alexia crossed her arms. “If she wants to date you, she needs to be strong enough to protect you.”

“From what? A rogue defender? A pigeon in Plaça Catalunya?” Cecilia shot back. “Besides, she’s a basketball player!”

“You never know,” Alexia muttered ominously.

Paige groaned louder, still sprawled on the ground. “Is this the last test?”

Alexia smirked. “One more.”

Paige dared to glance up. “Oh god.”

Alba grinned. “Good luck. This one’s psychological.”

Paige sat slumped on the couch, exhausted, while Alexia paced in front of her like an overzealous teacher preparing for a final.

Cecilia sat cross-legged next to her, munching on a snack with the carefree air of someone who had zero stress in life, unlike Paige, who had just been subjected to a day of physical and psychological warfare.

Alba was leaned up against the kitchen counter, watching the whole ordeal like it was a reality show.

Alexia finally stopped pacing, turning to face Paige with the gravity of a judge about to deliver a verdict.

“Final question.” Her voice was calm, but there was something undeniably intense about it.

Paige, despite being wiped from the impromptu 1v1 and whatever else Alexia had put her through, sat up a little straighter, her exhaustion fading under the weight of the moment.

Alexia took a step closer, studying her with sharp, discerning eyes. “Do you love Cari?”

Paige didn’t hesitate. “With everything in me.”

Cecilia, who had just been about to take another bite of her snack, paused, her expression softening.

Alba let out a quiet “Awww” from the kitchen.

For a moment, the room was silent. Alexia simply stared at Paige, as if searching for any cracks in her answer. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she gave a slow, approving nod. “Good.”

Paige exhaled, feeling relief flood her body. Maybe, finally, she had passed the test—

Then, with absolutely no warning, Alexia leaned in close, her voice dropping to an ominous whisper.

“Because if you ever hurt her,” she murmured, “I know people.”

Paige froze. Her brain went blank for a solid five seconds before she blinked rapidly.

“Did you just threaten me?”

From the kitchen, Alba howled with laughter, nearly knocking over her drink. “Ale, you can’t just say that to her!”

Alexia shrugged, completely unfazed. “I’m just saying.”

Paige turned to Cecilia, still slightly shaken. “Does she actually know people?”

Cecilia sighed like someone who had pondered this question too many times. “Honestly? I don’t even know.”

Alexia remained dead serious for a moment longer, letting the weight of her words linger. Then, finally, she cracked a smile, the first genuine one she’d shown all day.

“Welcome to the family, Paige.”

Paige exhaled deeply, her entire body sagging into the couch.

“Jesus Christ.”

Alba, still grinning, raised her glass in Paige’s direction. “You survived, Bueckers. I honestly wasn’t sure if you would.”

Paige groaned. “Neither was I.”

Cecilia leaned into Paige’s side, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You did good, amor.”

Paige huffed. “I better have. I think I aged five years.”

Alexia smirked, arms crossed. “That was nothing. You should’ve seen what I did to Alba’s first girlfriend.”

Paige paled and her throat grew dry.

Alba threw her head back and cackled. “Ale, stop terrifying her!”

Alexia just smiled. “No promises.”

[themultifanshipper]

Can you write another Jenson smut with a age-gap reader? Please. It’s so hard to find good Jenson stories.

Jenson had desperately needed a replacement teammate for the 24 hours of Le Mans after one of them had fallen ill. 

He was starting to regret choosing you for the job. 

Warnings: Smut, tension, fingering, massage, age gap, I have limited knowledge of how the 24hrs of Le Mans works so forgive me if there are inaccuracies, I decided to put Fernando as the 3rd teammate because why not, reader is basically 2000s Jenson, tiny plot twist at the end. 

wc: 5.7k

Not because you were incompetent or anything, you were very competent. 

Almost too competent. 

He was perfectly confident in your ability to help him get that damn trophy, but your youth and energy made Jenson feel old. 

He didn't know whether it was coffee, or redbull, or fucking cocaine that made you into a nervous ball of energy, but it was unnerving the way you would run literal circles around him all day. 

The other problem though, and honestly the main reason he felt old, was that if he'd been a decade younger, he would have definitely fancied himself a chance with you. 

You were beautiful, funny, witty… and Jenson hated to admit, very much his type. He had trouble not thinking about you, and about how much you reminded him of himself when he was younger. 

His only salvation, he thought, was that you'd never be in the car together, and when neither of you were driving, one of you would definitely be sleeping. 

 

Jenson managed to put the car on pole. Which took a huge weight off your shoulders, and he decided he should be the one to start the race. 

Fernando was going to replace him for the second stint, and then you would come in after him. Eight rotations of 3 hours each, you only doing 2 stints because you were the rookie.  

It was a foolproof plan. And hopefully Jenson would come out of it without doing anything stupid. 

So for the first few hours all you could do was wait. You watched videos on your phone, checked the livestream, got impromptu engineering lessons at the back of the garage, anything you could think of to keep yourself calm while you waited.  

This was your first endurance race, and you were in a team with two literal legends… which made you so nervous you felt like you could throw up at any given moment at the thought of disappointing them. 

The first driver swap went perfectly, Fernando jumped in and Jenson made his way over to you. 

You heart rate sped up when you spotted him. 

The reason you were so nervous around him was because he was your idol, and you were terrified of fucking up in front of him. 

Also you had a big fat crush on him, but that was just a detail. And right now he was drenched in sweat. It was hot. 

I mean it was hot in Le Mans. You know, because it was summer and stuff… 

 

He smiled at you as he made his way over. 

“You nervous?” he asked, eyeing the cup of coffee you were holding. 

“Yeah” you exhaled shakily “I am terrified of accidentally falling asleep or something”  

Jenson laughed. “That's why it's a good idea to sleep while you're not in the car. I for example am going to go take a shower, and a nap” 

Your eyes widened in panic. 

“But what if there's a problem?! What if we need to do an emergency driver swap! Fernando-“ 

He slapped his hand over your mouth to stop your rambling. 

“That is why you are here.” He tried to reassure you. “And given the size of that coffee, and the fact that you are still in the garage, I'm guessing you have no plans to go to sleep yet. So there's nothing to worry about!” he smiled tiredly, not realising his sweaty palm was still against your skin, partially obscuring the huge blush that was spreading across your face at the contact. 

“So chill out, watch a movie, and try to go easy on the coffee, if you start drinking too much now, you won't get to the end, trust me” 

He offered you a reassuring smile before retracting his hand and shuffling away, covered in sweat and eager to get back to his room. 

You stood there, a blushing mess while the engineer who had been explaining cooling systems to you smirked knowingly. 

“Don't say a fucking word” you muttered. 

He threw his hands up in surrender, but his smirk stayed firmly in place while he watched you slink away in embarrassment. 

Jenson had lied. 

Well, partially. His shower was great, but he was way too hopped up on adrenaline to go to sleep. 

He just didn't want to stick around the garage while you were there. He was already cringing at himself whenever he replayed the moment his sweaty, greasy palm made contact with your skin. 

Why the fuck had he done that?  

He set the stream up on his tablet so that he could keep informed on what was going on, and decided to scroll through instagram to pass the time.  

Within seconds he ended up on your profile, scrolling through the already too familiar photos. 

He clicked on your story to see the video (that he'd already seen 100 times that day) of you filming him and Fernando. 

The camera panned to Fernando first and your voice crackled through the phone speakers. 

“Fernando Alonso! How are you feeling about todays race?! Nervous? Excited?!” 

Fernando's laughter echoed in the room. 

“Me and Jenson have done this several times, we are used to it. I should be asking you the question!” 

The camera turned back to catch your face as you rolled your eyes. “Riiiight I forgot I was racing with a pair of old men!” 

“Hey!” Jenson heard his own voice shout, and your face lighting up while you turned the camera towards him. 

“Is that… 2009 Formula One world Champion Jenson Button?! I think it is!”  you laughed at his failure to keep a straight face at your antics. 

“Jenson Button! Huge fan! Could you sign something for me?!”  

Video Jenson rolled his eyes at you. 

“I'll tell you what, help me win that trophy and I'll see what I can do” 

You gasped, turning to the camera with an evil grin. 

“You heard it here first folks! If I win Le Mans, Jenson Button is going to sign my ass!” 

“That is NOT WHAT I SAI-“ 

The last few seconds of the video were Jenson and you grappling for the phone while a blurry Fernando facepalmed in the background. 

 

For Fernando to be the adult of the team was… unexpected. 

But you just brought out that side in Jenson, and he almost felt like he was back in F1 again, young and fun and- 

Well, sadly the time of being able to fuck his teammates was over. 

He was brought out of his thoughts when your name was said on the livestream. 

His head whipped up and there you were. 

“She hasn't left the garage. Jenson and Fernando's fellow driver, a rookie, is seemingly too excited to sleep and seems to have joined what looks like a human pyramid with some of the engineers…” 

Jenson's jaw dropped. 

Someone was giving you a lift up so that you could climb to the top of a pile of engineers. 

“She seems to be a breath of fresh air around the paddock, I will admit. I'm sure everyone has seen her story on instagram by now, where she teases poor Jenson. You just don't really see drivers having that sort of fun anymore do you?” 

Jenson watched in horror as you jumped off the top and into the arms of a waiting engineer. 

You then spotted the cameraman that was filming you and ran over to kiss the lense and smile evilly.  

A shiver ran up Jenson's spine. 

“Speaking of Jenson, I wonder why he isn't in the garage with her. In any case she reminds me a lot of him when he was in Formula One. They have that same fire and hunger that drives their wild child nature.” 

Jenson had seen enough. He put on some clothes and wandered back to the track. 

 That way he could be there for you during your stint and Fernando could have a nap before replacing you again. Or that's what he told himself, really he just wanted to be with you and have a bit of fun. 

As soon as you saw him step into the garage you grinned mischievously at him and waved. 

You’d just started a game of scrabble on a table in the back with a couple of the engineers. 

“I saw that, you know” he was hitting the dad pose next to you as he eyed the board. 

“Saw what?” you smiled, putting down the word ‘cat’ for 5 points. 

“The human pyramid. Can you imagine how much shit we would be in if you'd fallen and hurt yourself?” 

“But I didn't fall, so… we're all good” you smiled up at him. 

Jenson spotted the coffee cup next to you. 

“How many of those have you had since I left?” 

“Just the one, dad” you rolled your eyes at him. 

“It should have been none. Mark my words you will be exhausted if you can't sleep before your second stint.” 

“Oh is Mark here? I didn't see him!” you looked around the garage sarcastically while the other two chuckled. 

Jenson did not laugh. At least not on the outside. 

Your cheeky grin had a way of piercing through his defences and his resolve crumbled. 

“I hate you” 

“You won't feel that way when I get you that trophy and you're forced to sign my butt”  

“I will not be doing that” he grumbled, the idea of going anywhere near your ass was enough to make him tense. 

You took a sip of your coffee, peering at him over the rim of the cup.  

“We'll see…” 

It was time, Fernando was about to come in and you were going to hop into his seat and speed off into the night. 

It was impossible to tell who was more nervous, you or Jenson. 

“You'll do fine” 

“What if I crash?” 

“Then we'll lose. So don't crash” 

Your leg was bouncing nervously. 

Fernando's headlights appeared at the end of the pitlane and your heart skipped a beat. 

Jenson slapped your helmet playfully and as the car screeched to a halt, you wrenched the door open and swapped places with Fernando. 

With new tyres and a body full of nerves and caffeine, you drove off as fast as you could (within the speed limit of course) and rejoined the track. 

Jenson watched you go and didn't even register Fernando sniggering at the look on his face. 

“She will be fine, Jenson. She knows what she's doing. The adrenaline will eventually wear off and she will fall asleep as soon as she gets out of the car” 

Jenson sure hoped so. 

Fernando went to take a nap, because he was going in again after you. 

Jenson couldn't sleep though. He watched your onboards nervously while devouring a chicken sandwich. 

You were doing well. The track was cold, but dry so as long as you didn't get your lines wrong you weren't at a risk of slipping. 

But he could tell all that coffee was getting to you. 

Firstly because 45 minutes in you told your race engineer you needed a piss. Which was answered with a laugh and a comment about not being allowed to pee in the car. 

Secondly because he knew your body language, and you were always a bit hyper for sure, but the way your fingers kept tapping at the wheel and how much you were fidgeting definitely wasn't normal. 

Then your voice came over the radio. 

“Is Jenson still in the garage?” 

Your race engineer sighed and answered that yes, he was. 

“Jenson if you can hear me, you should go to bed, old man” 

Jenson scoffed at the nickname and then his heart rate picked up at the fact that you were thinking about him in the car. 

He tried to tell himself it didn't mean anything. After all, when you spend 3 hours alone in a car, your mind will go anywhere to keep itself occupied. 

But he couldn't help the butterflies in his stomach. 

By the end of your 3 hours, you had mentioned Jenson a total of seven times, and each one had gotten more laughs throughout the garage than the last. 

Fernando was ready to swap when you came careening into the pitlane, and off he went with new tyres and a good luck slap on the back from you. 

You immediately jumped into Jenson's arms and he was surprised that you were still this full of energy. 

Either you had the slowest metabolism on earth or you really were just that excited. 

“I did it! I survived!” you laughed excitedly and Jenson could feel his heart pumping in his chest when he realised how nice it was having you so close to him. 

“You sure did, now I recommend you have a shower and a big long nap before your second stint” 

You pulled your helmet off and sighed with relief. 

“A shower sounds nice, but there's no way I am going to be able to sleep” 

He chuckled. ‘Yeah, right’ he thought as he watched you practically sprint away. 

You were right. After your shower you went straight back to the garage, where Jenson was watching Fernando's onboard. 

He did a double take when he saw you. 

“Absolutely not, go and sleep. You have 6 hours until you need to be in the car” 

You looked at him guiltily.  

“I can't. I'm too excited to sleep” 

Jenson sighed, rubbing his face in frustration. 

“Come with me” 

You followed him out, and he lead you to his drivers room. 

It was quite cozy. He'd brought lots of pillows and blankets which were strewn all over the bed. 

You stepped inside nervously, not knowing what he was planning. 

“Lie down” 

You hesitated.  

“On the bed?” 

He gave you an unimpressed look. 

“No, on the floor. Of course on the bloody bed” 

You scoffed and did as you were told, watching Jenson warily as he unfolded a blanket and draped it over you. 

“You are not allowed out of this room until you've had a nap, understood? I don't care how you do it. Put some white noise on, count sheep, have a wank, whatever but I want you asleep within the hour” 

You couldn’t help the way your stomach fluttered at his words and his forceful tone.  

“You… want me to have a wank… on your bed?” 

“Whatever works for you” and with that he turned on his heel and stormed out the door. 

You were speechless, that was an insane interaction. 

You lay down, and stared at the ceiling, trying to slow your heart rate down. 

Jenson had to be joking. There's no way he actually thought you would do that, right? 

A shiver ran down your spine. You were contemplating it, after all you knew he was right about you needing to sleep. 

But you knew that wasn't going to happen. Not just because of the coffee and excitement, but because now your head was swimming with Jenson's words and dominant display. There isn't much you wouldn’t do to hear him order you around like that again. 

You decided to take his advice. 

It didn't work.  

Try as you might to get off, it only made you more antsy and you felt bad thinking about Jenson while you touched yourself. 

You thought about him, his hands, the way he was drenched after his first stint, the way he dragged you out of the garage. 

You felt hot all over, but your fingers weren't doing much to satisfy the need between your legs. 

You looked at the time.  

00:57 

You'd been tossing and turning for close to an hour now, and still you were no closer to getting off, or getting to sleep. 

You decided to send Jenson a text. 

“It's not working” 

Jenson groaned in frustration, rubbing his eyes after reading that. 

He'd spent the better part of the hour trying to forget the fact that you may, or may not, be getting off in his bed. 

He had no way of knowing and it made his skin crawl. 

‘Shrodinger's orgasm?’ he thought unhelpfully while his fingers typed out a response. 

“You mean…?” 

“Yeah… I just cant do it, Jenson. I'm too wired up” 

“Ok…I have an idea” 

He glanced at the clock.  

01:03  

He had just under two hours until he needed to be in the car. 

He barged into the room unceremoniously, making you jump. 

“On your stomach, top off, I'm going to give you a massage. It's the only thing I can think of to relax you”  

Your eyes widened in surprise and he waved a hand dismissively. 

“Don't worry I won't… look. Just trust me, you need to sleep. If you don't you're putting yourself in danger, and the team.” 

You took your shirt off and did as you were told while he grabbed a bottle of oil from his bag. 

“And you just happened to have that with you?” 

He glared at you and made his way over to the bed. 

“Shut up and close your eyes.” 

‘Yes sir’ you thought. Your heart was beating out of your chest. Jenson was about to give you a massage.  

It felt like you were dreaming, the object of your affections was climbing on top of you to straddle your hips and put his hands on you. His wondeful, big, strong hands. He was going to touch you. Jenson Button was going to make you feel good.  

Your cheeks heated at the thought. 

You were so in your head that you didn't notice his hands on your skin until he spoke up. 

“Relax… you’re so tense. Close your eyes and take a breath. Concentrate on my voice” 

You took a deep breath in and let it out slowly as you felt his fingers dig into your shoulders. 

He spread oil all over your back, pressing his thumbs in circles up and down the sides of your spine. 

It was a surprisingly quick process, you felt yourself relaxing into his touch the longer he pressed into your back. 

Then he pressed down on a knot. 

You'd been successful so far at hiding your noises, but the sudden mix of pain and pleasure was so intense you let a shaky moan slip out. 

Jenson's hands froze on your back. 

“Don't stop” you gasped “It feels good” 

You were desperate, the heat between your legs was only getting worse and you felt like you would die if Jenson stopped touching you. 

Jenson had to bite back a groan at your pathetic whimper. 

He was in over his head. This was a terrible idea, what had he been thinking? This was wildly inappropriate, you were his teammate for god's sake, not to mention how young you were and he was clearly taking advantage of you while you- 

“Jenson, please” 

“What do you need?” he rasped, resolve quickly slipping and he could feel his body reacting. 

“Touch me” you gasped “Please” 

Those words sent a fire throughout his body and satisfaction purred in his chest. His hands trailed over your sides teasingly, roaming over your bare skin and you arched your back at the touch. 

“That's not what I mean and you know it” you whined. 

He just chuckled and leaned over you to growl in your ear. 

“Then be a good girl and tell me what you want” 

“I want you to touch me” you whispered, feeling his weight shifting on top of you “I need you. Inside me, please”  

Jenson felt like he'd been punched in 5he gut. His lips travelled over the skin of your upper back and you could feel the smirk on them. 

“Need me, hmm? Need me to tire you out? Maybe a couple of orgasms'll do the trick…” 

You nodded desperately, lifting your hips so that he could reach under you and help you out of your pants. 

“Please, I need you so bad.” 

He gazed at your body in awe as you spread your legs and arched into him when you felt a finger dip into your wetness. 

“Is this where you need me, love?” he teased, pushing the finger in to the knuckle “So wet for me, all from a massage?” 

“Don't flatter yourself” you bit back “I spent an hour before this trying to get off” 

He hummed, slipping a second finger inside you. 

“Tell me, what were you thinking about that got you this wet, hmm?” he asked, and he pressed the pads of his fingers against your g-spot insistently while his thumb went to rub harsh circles on your sensitive clit. 

You let out a low moan and cursed as you felt the familiar tingling in your gut. 

“Fuck - I'm close, don't stop!” 

“I'm not letting you come unless you tell me what you were thinking about, darling” he smirked. 

The idea of being denied after being riled up for so long made you cry out in desperation 

“You! Fuck! You, Jenson” you cried out as you felt the first wave of your orgasm approach. 

“Really?” he couldn't deny the twitch of his cock in his shorts at the mental image of you picturing him to get off. “What about me, specifically?” 

“Your hands!” You panted, “Your hand are… fuck- they're so fucking…” 

Jenson grinned, speeding up his movements. 

“You mean the hands that are making you feel good right now? The hands that are about to make you come like a good girl?” 

You choked back a sob and your thighs twitched as you came in waves on his talented fingers. 

Once you went limp he helped you turn over and spread your legs, licking his lips at the mess between them. 

He didn't let you recover, and instead dived in, lapping up your juices like he'd wanted to do pretty much since he met you. 

He had to hold you down because you were squirming away from the onslaught of his mouth in overstimulation. 

He pressed his fingers back inside you and hooked them upwards. 

Your back arched at the overwhelming sensation. He was making you feel incredible, and you threaded your fingers through his hair, not sure whether you wanted to push him away or pull him closer. 

“Oh fuck, Jenson” your head was thrown back in ecstasy while he worked his magic. 

Your thighs clamped around his head, and it wasn't long before you were babbling nonsense as a fresh wave of arousal coursed through you. 

The constant pressure of his fingers inside you was making your body vibrate with pleasure and a new kind of feeling crept up your spine. 

It was much more intense than before, a sharp sensation curling in your gut before it unravelled, and before you knew it you were soaking Jenson's hand as you gushed all over him.  

He couldn't believe it, but he eagerly lapped up all that he could while he coaxed you through your orgasm. 

You lay there trying to catch your breath while he pulled the duvet off the bed and fetched a new one, careful not to disturb you too much while you recovered. 

You felt utterly boneless, and you didn't even realise your eyes were closing of their own volition. before you passed out. 

Jenson chuckled, happy that the endorphins had overridden whatever amount of coffee you'd drank. He shuffled around the room, putting the bottle of oil back in his bag, and making sure you had an alarm set on your phone just in case. 

You were supposed to get back in the car at six o'clock, and it was currently just after two. 

That left you enough time to have a good long nap before your stint, and Jenson had time to go and freshen up (and take care of the throbbing problem in his pants) before he needed to replace Fernando. 

The swap went fine, not that you'd know, you were completely out for three whole hours, and Jenson could have some time to reflect on what had happened in his drivers room. 

He really didn't know what had come over him. If someone had told him something like this would happen he would have smacked them across the face. 

He'd promised himself he wouldn't try anything. There were two decades between you two, and the more he thought about it the guiltier he felt. 

To the point where his race engineer asked him if he was okay because he was uncharacteristically quiet. 

You woke up in a cold sweat.  

You had no idea how long you were out for, and the thought of somehow missing the race filled you with panic. 

But when you glanced at your phone, which was ringing incessantly with your alarm, you saw that it was half five in the morning. 

You sighed and got up, fishing around for your clothes. It was only when you went to grab a race suit from the cabinet that it hit you. 

Those suits were way too big for you, this was not your room, and… 

Oh yeah, Jenson had fingered you to sleep. 

There wasn't really any other way of putting it, really. 

Fucking hell. Jumping in the car after Jenson was going to be awkward as fuck, not to mention you were going to have to speak to him like a normal human being after all this. 

As if Jenson fucking Button hadn't just… Jesus. 

A knock at the door interrupted your train of thought. 

Fernando's head peeked in and he eyed the room suspiciously. 

“You okay in… here?” 

You nodded,  and assured him you'd be out in a minute. 

You rushed to your own driver’s room and put your suit on, feeling your limbs lagging behind. 

You needed coffee. Or a redbull or something, you couldn't drive in this state. 

You ran back to the garage and looked at the time. 

05:41 

You had time for a cup of coffee and for it to kick in before the swap. 

Fernando appeared next to you while you sat at the scrabble table, gazing at where a dozen engineers were sleeping on little camp beds and mats in a corner. 

“So… were you so tired after your stint that you accidentally fell into the wrong bed?” 

You blushed behind your cup. 

“Something like that” you muttered and he smirked. 

You watched the stream, getting up to date with the places. Your team were still ahead, and by quite a margin.  

You could tell Fernando was excited about the prospect of having a fully dominant race, but it was much too early to call. The race was only halfway done. 

You got ready to jump in the car, and by the time Jenson came into the pits, you felt re-energised and ready to go. 

During your time out on track, your mind wandered back to Jenson's room. 

You were going to have to talk to him about it at some point. You couldn't avoid him forever, and his friendship meant a lot to you. 

Jenson was exhausted. He hadn't slept at all yet, and he was doing another stint in 3 hours, so as soon as he got out he made a beeline to his room and completely passed out.  

 

Your stint went fine, and the following swap from you to Jenson went fine, despite how tired he was. Everything was going according to plan. 

Fernando had slept all through your stint, and most of Jenson's.  

His hair was sticking up in different directions and the seam of his pillow was imprinted onto his cheek, but he looked incredibly happy that Jenson was still firmly in the lead. 

When Jenson came into the pits for the final driver swap, you and Fernando were all but buzzing with excitement.  

This was it. If Fernando managed to stay in front, you would win the race. 

You were going to be a 24 of Le Mans winner. As a rookie, as a replacement driver, and more importantly as a woman, you were going to prove to everyone you were worthy. 

Jenson needed help getting his helmet off. 

He slumped against the wall and you had to help him to his drivers room. 

You lay him down, unzipping his suit just enough to cool him down a bit and got him a glass of fresh cold water. 

You were going to leave him to it, but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to sit on the edge of the bed. 

You gave him a questioning look and he sighed. 

“We need to talk”  

Your gaze travelled around the room. 

"Yeah… Do we have to do it right now though?” 

“We've got three hours to kill, might as well…” 

It was your turn to sigh. 

“I suppose…” 

You scooted closer to him on the bed and he took your hands in his. 

“First of all, I shouldn’t have done what I did earlier. It was selfish of me to take advantage of you like that…” 

Your mouth hung open, utterly bewildered. 

“Take advantage? Jenson I asked you to… I wanted it just as much as you did.” 

He blinked at you. 

“But… still… it wasn't appropriate.” 

“Do you regret it?” you asked, suddenly self-conscious. 

He melted and stroked your thigh soothingly.  

“No! No of course not, but-” 

“Neither do I” you interrupted “So there's nothing for you to feel bad about. I want you, Jenson” 

You gently slid a hand in his fireproofs, feeling the firm muscle underneath, and the hot dampness from his sweat.  

“You're all sweaty” you remarked, hand travelling lower. 

His eyes were fixed on yours, pupils expanding quickly the lower your hand went. 

“Yeah… I need a shower” he rasped. 

“Well… we’re both going to get dirty anyway getting sprayed with champagne on the podium later” you murmured, leaning down so your face was hovering over his. “So we could wait until after, and then scrub each other clean…”  

Your lips barely brushed his but he groaned, partly at the image of your body soaking wet and naked. He didn't have a preference whether it was from champagne or soapy water. 

“Sounds good to me” he whispered, going cross eyed when he glanced down at your lips. 

“It's a date, then” you smiled. “In the meantime… why don't I thank you for helping me get to sleep ”  

You grinned into the kiss, hands roaming under his fireproofs.  

You both somehow managed to get all of your layers off without separating and once you were both naked, he carried you over to a wall and held you up against it. 

“This is gross, we're both disgusting.” He moaned as you pulled on his hair roughly. 

“I don't care. I need you to fuck me Jenson” 

He let out a shaky breath at that, and lined himself up with where you were dripping against his lower abdomen. 

“God are you just… always this wet?” he looked down in awe at his tip sliding into you. 

“Only when you're around” you smirked. 

Something about that sentence made something dark settle in his stomach, and without further ado he slid into you. 

His cock stretched you out perfectly and you scratched at the wall for purchase as he started fucking into you with fervour. 

He pressed his body against yours, mouthing at your neck while he snapped his hips. It was like he was in some kind of trance, all previous exhaustion forgotten as he buried himself inside you repeatedly. 

Soon enough your neck was covered in marks and you could feel your flesh bruising where his fingers dug into it to hold you up.  

He didn't tease you this time, he let you come and fucked you through it with determination. Not stopping until you were a shaking, begging mess in his arms. 

He dropped you back on the bed and instructed you to hold your legs open for him. 

He had a dark look in his eyes as he fisted his cock with intent, aiming for your leaking cunt and the backs off your thighs. 

He almost lost balance with how  hard he came at the sight of you all pliant under him.  

Satisfaction purred in his chest as he gazed at you, covered in his streaks of cum. It made him slightly feral if he was honest. 

The two of you cleaned up with a wet towel and curled up under the blankets for a while. There was still a couple of hours left. 

“So tell me” you started, fingers swirling through the thin patch of hair on his chest. “How many of your teammates have you slept with?” 

He chuckled, amused by your question. “Including you?” 

“Yeah” 

He quickly glanced towards his tablet, where Fernando's onboard was playing.  

“Three.” He said. 

___

 

“So the race is soon coming to a close, and the Hertz team are looking to have been completely dominant this time around. Yet Jenson and his dear rookie teammate aren't in the garage during this closing stage… I can only hope they’re sleeping.” 

“Together, perhaps?” 

“I wouldn't care to speculate… but…..”

___

 

“What do you mean three? How is that even possible..."

Your voice died in your throat as you glanced back towards the stream in disbelief. 

“No! You fucked Fernando?”  you couldn't help a small smirk of amazement creeping onto your face.

“Well actually he fucked me but y-” 

“WHAT?!” 

___ 

The champagne tasted like shit, as usual.  

But the pure joy of being soaked in it after an impressive win was truly something else. 

You were excited for a shower that was for sure. You couldn't wait to get the sticky feeling off of your skin.  

Fernando and Jenson had you on their shoulders while the engineers generously sprayed the three of you. 

Jenson was so happy he did in fact grab a marker to sign your ass over your race suit, which got whoops and cheers from everyone around.

And of course the fact that you were going to have not one, but two hot older men to help you get the tricky spots… was a definite bonus. 

Yes, two. Because after all, poor Fernando didn't have anyone to shower with, and you didn't want him to feel left out of the celebrations. 

[plethorawrites]

How would the vampire Batboys react if their GN human partner/reader offers them their blood? Maybe reader offers because the boys aren’t lookin’ good/aren’t drinking enough as they should, or maybe reader offers as a way to show them their trust, or build intimacy? :3c

Yes!! I did something similar with Dick previously, but I can totally see this concept with the others as well. (TW: Mention of blood)

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---

Bruce: Deep down, I think he'd always imagined feeding from you one day. Maybe as some fantasy or maybe a part of him just knew you well enough to know you'd offer. It wouldn't phase him much, but he'd be elated internally. Still tender, though. He'd make sure you had a glass of wine or tea or something beforehand and sit you in his lap, having you lean your head against his shoulder to expose your neck and he'd definitely hold it firmly the entire time, even when you started to squirm in pain.

Dick: Like in a previous post, I think he'd limit his use of drinking from his partner because he's worried about losing control/getting addicted. It's a treat or a desperate measure and he has to really focus on your heartbeat and how hard you're gripping his arm to make sure you're not starting to panic or lose too much blood. Afterwards, it would just be continuous praise, thanking you over and over and muttering how much he loves you and how he promises to never take too much from you.

Jason: Is terrified when you suggest it. He's spent his whole life being viewed as a monster, even in his own eyes and once finding someone who doesn't immediately fear him, he doesn't want to ever risk making you change your mind. But he's lethargic, out of blood bags in the fridge, and too tired to go find a fresh source. You're right there; of course it makes sense. He's still apprehensive the entire time, physically in pain when he keeps himself from indulging but refuses to let himself. Instead, every single sharp inhale or slight whimper of pain makes him stop, even if it hurts, to check on you.

Tim: Has to do a double take, making sure he'd heard you correctly. But when you nod a second time, his open jaw closes, turning into a grin. He wouldn't pounce right away, not wanting to seem too eager, even if he was. But a few days later, when you're over, cuddling in his bed, he'd be tracing your neck like he often did, imagining how it would taste. His breath would be warm when he whispers in your ear, asking you if you would let him have a snack. Of course you would nod. And of course he would take your hand, letting you squeeze it as tightly as you needed to when he sunk his fangs into your neck, humming in content, just leaving them there for a moment. He adored the puncture marks that lingered for a week.

Damian: Would be confused, at first. He'd stop in the middle of whatever he was doing— training, getting ready for bed, etc. and just stare. You were his partner, not his blood bag. Why would he put you in a position where he could hurt you when he was meant to protect you? It takes some explaining from you, telling him how you want to know what it feels like and for him to know you trust him, that he even entertains the thought. He's still hesitant, but at your request and his own hunger, he tries. He has to pause when you make a sound of pain, but doesn't stop until he's satisfied and you're dizzy. Then, he just wraps his arms around you, kissing the puncture marks to erase the remaining blood.

[rana-temporaria]

Yes!!!!! You get it!!!!!! I'm thinking so much about third age middle earth now!!!!!

A living land!!!!! Living steams!!! Oh, I'm going absolutely insane, there's just something so so so interesting about a land that Wants

Ruins taking people is such a good idea, i honestly love it so much! And lonely places!! I'm thinking so much about places that aren't malicious but are alive and lonely and just want you to stay with them...

Cultures and peoples from Beleriand survive and make it middle earth and the horror follows them!! (Though different)

Oh how absolutely terrifying it must be to be a traveler in middle earth, some places are violent, angry, and cruel; They hold the power of the Enemy

Some places hate you; Some love you, both are very dangerous for the traveler

Some trees are friends, they care for you (Their roots tangle around you; You cannot leave. It is dangerous outside. You will be safe with them)

Rivers that don't understand that you cannot breathe water; They just want you to stay with them (They will hold your bones; you will never be properly buried)

Trails that want you to stay just a little longer (A journey that should have taken hours takes days, weeks, months, years)

You try to move away from your small home in a forest; the trees will not let you, every path leads straight back (Why would you want to leave? The forest loves you, it keeps you safe! Do want more? It can give you more)

The forest sees the huntsman taking his kills home, to feed his family; The man is happy! (Dead animals pile up outside the huntsman's house, it starts small, rabbits, squirrels, cats, dogs, deer, wolves, a man... The forest wants to make him happy again!)

And then the places that hate...

Mountains shift the trail you are supposed to follow, they lead you to the peak, you fall; They want to see the terror in your eyes, as you know this was intentional

A marsh that remembers the Enemy's evil, that serves him (It grabs you, it drowns you, it sheds you body and uses it as a scarecrow; It holds onto your spirit and torments you till lady Galadriel comes through)

Wights that miss the first age; That want to test Angband's torture on new victims

I'm so normal about this (Lie)

I absolutely love love love the horror of late stage beleriand

Like at this point Morgoth has taken over literally everywhere except the haven of Sirion and the isle of Balar

The fruit is poisoned, rotten, or full of viscera

Animals are unnaturally aggressive and sauron''s wolves prowl through the land

Small ponds through beleriand are clear enough and look safe, even if you boil it you will die if you drink from these ponds

The land itself has been corrupted by Morgoth's evil, maybe beleriand itself is a thrall

Held captive and used against the very people it used to shelter

Nargothrond which was once a home for elves and dwarves now lies under a dragon's curse

Doriath that was safe in Melian's veil and the last place free of Morgoth's evil is now populated by fell spirits, Menegroth's once beautiful halls are now empty except for invasive plants and the glowing eyes of wraiths

Gondolin the secret city that hid away from war and bloodshed is burned

Himring which defended the frozen north is used as a fortress for the Enemy

The pools of ivrin once protected by ulmo now lie defiled by glaurung

The plants once foraged for healing now cause painful deaths and sickness

Beleriand itself is captured and controlled

[scarletwinterxx]

magnets - choi seungcheol imagine 1/2

buckle up bcs this is going to be a long one, i tried i really did i tried my best writing as much angst as i can. i'm not the best in that genre but i think i like how it turned out... i tried my best to put into words the scenes I had in my head. i needed to make this in 2 parts since it won't let me post all at once😅 so yes THERE WILL BE A SECOND HALF

tbh out of all the stories i wrote here, this one has the most 'me' in it. sad if you realize why i say that but yea😅 in my mind, cheol is the type of man whose love isn't consuming, it just makes everything better, easier, a little less terrifying bcs no matter what you can count on him to be there with you. i guess that's what make me love this story even more. hope you do too!

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You’ve heard it all before. You're too picky. Your standards are unrealistic. Men aren’t that bad.

Lies. All of it.

Men are that bad. They lack common sense, can’t read between the lines, and somehow think saying "you’re not like other girls" is a compliment. You’ve dodged so many disastrous setups that your friends have given up entirely, dubbing you "The Man Hater." 

Until a certain someone crossed paths with you. 

It happens on a regular Friday night. Your group is at some bar Mingyu insisted on checking out, and you're barely listening to Jeonghan talk about his latest situationship when you see him.

Seungcheol walks in like he owns the place. Broad shoulders, sharp jawline, and a presence that makes women glance up instinctively. He doesn’t seem to notice. He’s in a plain black tee, jeans that fit just right, and a watch that looks like it costs more than your rent. The kicker? He doesn’t even try to look hot. He just is.

"Who is that?" you ask, cutting off Jeonghan mid-sentence.

Your friends freeze "Did you just…" Jeonghan starts.

"Who," you repeat, your voice dangerously close to sounding interested, "is that?"

Mingyu, still coughing, thumps his chest. "Choi Seungcheol," he wheezes. "Why?"

"He’s hot," you declare, because there’s no point in denying the undeniable.

"You hate men," Irene reminds you, like you’ve somehow forgotten

"I hate most men," you correct. "That one? I want him."

Jeonghan bursts into laughter. "This is the best night of my life."

You ignore them because Seungcheol is making his way to the bar, completely unaware of the chaos he’s caused. You watch, entranced, as he leans against the counter. When the bartender hands him a drink, he nods in thanks. Polite, effortless. Not once does he scan the crowd for attention like most men do. He knows he has it.

Mingyu, having finally recovered, shakes his head. "No way. Seungcheol turns down everyone."

"Not for long," you murmur, already formulating a plan.

Jihyo narrows her eyes. "Oh my God. You’re serious. You’re actually serious."

"I am."

Irene stares at you, then at Seungcheol. "I give you five minutes before he shuts you down."

"Three," Mingyu corrects.

"Ten," Jeonghan bets

"Have some faith," you scoff, already standing up. "Watch and learn, peasants."

You stride towards the bar, heart hammering, but determination stronger. It’s been years since you’ve been genuinely interested in someone. You’ll be damned if you let this moment pass.

Seungcheol notices you as you approach, and when your eyes meet, he tilts his head slightly curious but unreadable. Up close, he’s even better. You swallow.

Then, with all the confidence in the world, you slide onto the stool next to him before speaking

"So, do we skip the small talk, or do I have to pretend I don’t already want you?"

Seungcheol blinks. Then, he laughs. low, rich, interested and just like that, the game begins. He turns fully to face you, one elbow resting on the bar, drink held loosely in his hand. His gaze flickers over you—assessing, but not in that sleazy way men do when they think they have the upper hand. No, this is different. 

He’s curious.

"That’s a bold opener," he muses, taking a sip of his drink.

You smirk. "I don’t do weak ones."

He hums, seemingly unfazed, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrays him. "And what exactly do you already want from me?"

Your fingers drum against the bar as you lean in slightly, "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

For a second, he doesn’t say anything. He just watches you, then he sets his drink down with a quiet clink and exhales a small chuckle. "You’re not like the others."

"God, please tell me that’s not your usual line," you tease.

His grin widens. "No. Usually, I don’t even entertain conversations."

"Tragic," you say dryly. "You’ve been missing out."

His tongue runs along the inside of his cheek, and you swear you see a flicker of actual interest settle in his expression. Then, suddenly, he shifts gears.

"You came over here with a plan," he states, amusement laced in his voice. "Go ahead. Impress me."

Oh, he’s fun. You tilt your head, feigning thoughtfulness. "Alright. First, we exchange names not because I don’t already know yours, but because manners are important."

Seungcheol chuckles, but he plays along. "Choi Seungcheol."

You extend a hand. "Nice to meet you, Seungcheol" you say his name, telling him yours also

"I know who you are." That throws you off for exactly half a second, and you hate how much you like hearing him say your name. 

"Oh? And how exactly did you hear about me?"

"I have ears," he shrugs. "And friends who talk too much." he looks behind you. You glance back at your table, where your friends are openly staring.

"They bet against you, didn’t they?"

"Obviously." you scowl then turn to look at him again

"And yet, here we are."

"Here we are," you echo, matching his smirk.

He looks at you for a moment longer, as if weighing his next move. Then, he leans in slightly, voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"Alright. You’ve got my attention. Now what?"

You don’t get flustered easily. You’ve shut down men with nothing but a raised brow and a well-placed bless your heart more times than you can count. But there’s something about the way Seungcheol leans in, watching you with that amused little smirk, that makes your pulse trip over itself.

"That depends. Are you going to buy me a drink, or am I going to have to suffer through this conversation sober?"

His smirk turns into a full grin, slow and devastating. "So demanding."

"I don’t waste time," you quip

He chuckles, a deep, satisfied sound, before signaling to the bartender. "Get her whatever she wants," he tells them, then glances back at you. "And if you say something ridiculous, I’m judging you."

"Wow," you scoff, placing a hand over your heart. "You don’t even know my order, and you’re already prepared to be disappointed? You really are different."

Seungcheol snorts. "Just don’t tell me it’s some overly complicated drink with eight different ingredients."

You hum, making a show of considering his words before turning to the bartender. "A whiskey sour."

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Not bad."

"Did you think I was going to order an appletini?"

"Honestly? I wouldn’t put it past you."

You laugh, shaking your head as the bartender hands you your drink. You take a sip, enjoying the slight tang, then tilt the glass in his direction. "See? No judgment necessary."

"I’ll admit, I’m a little relieved," he teases, taking a sip of his own drink.

You narrow your eyes playfully. "So, is this your thing?"

"My thing?"

"Buying girls drinks, making them feel special, then walking away like a mysterious, unattainable dream?"

Seungcheol huffs out a quiet laugh. "Not really. Like I said, I usually don’t entertain conversations."

"But you’re entertaining this one."

He tilts his glass toward you in a silent toast. "I am."

You clink your glass against his, a slow smirk creeping onto your lips. "I must be special, then."

Seungcheol watches you over the rim of his glass, his gaze just a little darker now. "You must be."

You linger at the bar with Seungcheol for a few more moments, exchanging teasing remarks and sidelong glances, but eventually, you decide to leave while you're ahead.

"Well, this has been fun," you say, setting your now-empty glass on the counter.

Seungcheol tilts his head. "Leaving already?"

"What, you want me to stay?"

He huffs a quiet laugh. "I wouldn’t mind."

You pretend to consider it, tapping your chin thoughtfully. "Tempting… but I like to keep things interesting."

Before he can respond, you slide your arm across the bar toward him, palm up. His brows raise slightly, but he doesn’t hesitate. He picks up a pen left behind by the bartender and, with deliberate strokes, scrawls his number across your forearm.

When he finishes, he caps the pen, meeting your gaze with a knowing smirk. "Your move."

You glance at the numbers, then back at him. "We’ll see." Then, without another word, you turn on your heel and walk back to your table.

As expected, your friends are staring. The moment you reach the table, Jihyo blurts, "What happened?!"

You take your seat, completely unbothered, and casually extend your arm, showing off the ink on your skin. Silence.

Then

"WHAT THE—?!" Mingyu practically screeches, nearly knocking over his drink in the process. “Wait, wait. So, you—the man hater—just casually waltzed over there, flirted with Choi Seungcheol, and now you have his number?"

"Looks like it." You examine your arm with a smug smile.

Jihyo grips your wrist, eyes darting over the digits. "So? Are you texting him? Calling? When’s the wedding?"

You shrug, retracting your arm. "I’m not texting him."

Jihyo looks betrayed. "Why the hell not?!"

"Where’s the fun in that?" You take a slow sip of your drink. "Let’s see if he texts first."

Jeonghan looks at you before the evil smile shows on his face, “You didn’t give him your number, didn’t you?”

“Nope”

Jeonghan leans forward. "Oh, you’re evil."

You don’t text him that night. Or the next. His number, which you took time to save on your phone, remains stagnant on your contact list. 

You’re lounging on your couch, half-listening to a true crime documentary, when your phone buzzes with a call from an unknown number. You stare at it for a second, debating whether to answer, before sighing and picking up.

"Hello?"

Silence. Then—

"Was this your plan all along?"

You freeze. That voice is unmistakable. Leaning back against the cushions, you fight the smirk threatening to form. "Choi Seungcheol."

"You remember my name. Good to know," he deadpans.

You hum, inspecting your nails. "You sound a little… frustrated."

"I had to track down your friends just to get your number," he says, and you can hear the irritation laced with amusement. "Do you know how annoying that was?"

You bite back a laugh. "Who caved?"

"Mingyu. He held out for, like, ten seconds."

You laugh, imagining the exact moment Seungcheol probably cornered Mingyu, all intimidating and brooding, while your friend fumbled immediately.

"So," Seungcheol continues, "tell me, was this some elaborate game? Give me your number, wait for me to text, then just ghost me?"

"I didn’t ghost you. I just never texted in the first place."

"Exactly."

You grin, stretching out lazily. "Maybe I just wanted to see if you’d chase."

A pause. Then, in a tone far too smug for your liking "So you like being chased?"

Your stomach does a stupid little flip, but you refuse to let him know that. "I like seeing who puts in effort," you reply smoothly.

"And? Impressed yet?"

"You’re getting there," you tease.

Seungcheol chuckles, a low, satisfied sound. "Good. Then meet me for dinner."

You blink. "What?"

"Dinner," he repeats, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "You know, a meal? Where two people sit down, talk, and eat?"

"I know what dinner is," you snort. "I just wasn’t expecting you to be so forward."

"You made me hunt you down," he says. "You don’t get to act surprised." Okay. Fair.

"Alright, then," you say, biting your lip to contain your grin. "Pick me up at eight."

And just like that, Choi Seungcheol is taking you to dinner. And at exactly 7:59, your phone buzzes.

Seungcheol: I’m outside.

You glance at the time and snort. Of course, he’s punctual.

Grabbing your purse, you take one last look in the mirror before heading out. As soon as you step outside, you spot Seungcheol leaning casually against his car. A sleek, black beauty that looks just as effortlessly expensive as he does.

His eyes sweep over you as you approach, and he smirks. "You clean up nice."

You arch a brow. "I always look nice."

"Cocky."

Once he’s in the driver’s seat, he glances at you. "Comfortable?"

You hum, running a hand over the buttery leather seats. "Not bad. I guess your car is alright."

Seungcheol scoffs. "You guess? This car is a masterpiece."

You grin. "I’m sure it’s great at making up for other shortcomings."

He barks out a laugh, shaking his head as he pulls onto the road. "You just can’t help yourself, can you?"

"It’s a gift," you say sweetly.

He glances at you, amusement dancing in his eyes. "You really made me work for this date."

"You chased," you remind him.

"And you liked it."

You pretend to consider. "A little."

He huffs a quiet laugh. "Good. Because I don’t plan on stopping."

You meet his gaze, and for once, you don’t have a witty comeback. Seungcheol pulls up to a sleek high-rise, handing his keys off to the valet like it’s second nature. You step out, glancing up at the towering building, the city lights reflecting off the glass.

You give him a sideways look. “Fancy.”

He smirks. The elevator ride is smooth and silent, except for the way Seungcheol occasionally glances at you. When the doors open, you step into a dimly lit, impossibly exclusive restaurant. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the glittering skyline, the city sprawling below like something out of a movie.

A host greets you by name before leading you to a table near the window. You raise an eyebrow. “How did you even get a reservation here?”

Seungcheol just shrugs, sliding into his seat. “I have my ways.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He leans back, studying you with that same amused smirk. “You like it?”

It’s stunning, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction just yet. “It’s alright.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

The waiter arrives, and Seungcheol orders without even glancing at the menu. You squint at him. “You come here often?”

“Not really. Just know what’s good.”

“So, what, you bring all your dates here?”

Seungcheol sets down his glass, eyes locked onto yours. “No.”

You tilt your head. “No?”

He shakes his head. “You’re the first.”

Your stomach does something stupid and traitorous, but you keep your expression cool. “Guess I should feel special.”

His lips quirk up. “You should.”

And damn it, for once, you do. As the waiter leaves, Seungcheol leans forward, swirling the dark liquid in his glass before giving you an all-too-amused look.

“So, I heard something interesting from Mingyu.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s never a good sign.” 

“Apparently, you have a reputation.”

You take a slow sip of your drink. “Do I?”

Seungcheol smirks. “Something about being a ‘man hater,’ quote-unquote.”

You nearly choke. “Oh, for the love of—” You set your glass down with a little more force than necessary. “I am not a man hater.”

He rests his chin on his hand, clearly entertained. “Mingyu made it sound pretty serious.”

You roll your eyes. “Mingyu is dramatic. I just—” You gesture vaguely. “—don’t waste my time with idiots.”

“So, most men are idiots?”

You sigh, giving him a pointed look. “Look, I just have high standards. That doesn’t make me a man hater.” You pick up your drink, muttering, “Mingyu talks too much.”

Seungcheol just laughs, looking way too pleased with himself. You lean back in your chair, twirling the stem of your wine glass between your fingers, watching him with a knowing smirk.

"You know," you start casually, "I heard something about you too."

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

You nod. "Apparently, you’re the guy who turns down women without a second thought."

He hums, taking a sip of his drink before setting it down. "Mingyu, again?"

"Maybe."

He smirks. "He really needs a hobby."

"Don’t change the subject," you tease, tilting your head. "So, is it true?"

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he watches you for a moment, like he’s deciding how much to say. "Depends," he finally says.

"On what?"

"On what you think ‘true’ means."

You narrow your eyes. "That sounds like something a guy who’s absolutely guilty would say."

Seungcheol chuckles, shaking his head. "Look, I’m not some heartless bastard. I just don’t waste time on something I know won’t go anywhere."

You cross your arms. "And what exactly makes you so sure it won’t go anywhere?"

He shrugs, voice even. "You can tell when someone only wants you for the wrong reasons."

Something about the way he says it makes you pause. It’s not cocky. It’s just… matter-of-fact.

You watch him carefully. "So, what, they just like the idea of you?"

He meets your gaze, unreadable. "Something like that."

You hold his stare, and for a moment, the teasing dies down, replaced by something heavier. Something real. Then, because you refuse to let things get too serious too quickly, you click your tongue.

"Damn," you say, shaking your head. "And here I was thinking you were just playing hard to get."

Seungcheol laughs, the tension breaking. "And yet, you still showed up."

You grin. "Guess I like a challenge, too."

He lifts his glass toward you in a silent toast.

"Good," he murmurs, eyes dark with amusement. "I’d be disappointed if you didn’t."

The food was amazing, company even better. He’s funny without trying, you don’t think you laughed that much in a while. And a guy being the reason? A miracle truly. 

He’s driving you back home leaning back in the passenger seat, comfortably full from dinner, when his voice cuts through the quiet.

"So." His fingers drum lazily against the wheel. "Why didn’t you text me?"

You glance at him, feigning innocence. "Text you?"

He gives you a look. "You know. After that first night."

You smirk, tilting your head. "Ohhh, you mean when you wrote your number on my arm like some overconfident frat boy?"

Seungcheol scoffs, but his lips twitch. "I was being resourceful."

"Sure." You shrug. "Guess I just wasn’t in a rush."

He raises an eyebrow. "Weren’t interested?"

"I didn’t say that."

"Didn’t not say it either."

You chuckle. "Alright, fine. Maybe I just wanted to see how serious you were."

Seungcheol hums. "So, making me track down your friends and practically interrogate Mingyu was a test?"

You flash him a grin. "And you passed."

He glances at you, amusement glinting in his eyes. "I knew you were trouble."

"You knew," you agree, smirking. "And yet, here you are."

Seungcheol shakes his head, but there’s no hiding the way his lips curl up. "Yeah," he murmurs, like it’s more to himself than to you. "Here I am."

You don’t tell anyone about the dinner. Not because you’re trying to be secretive, but because there’s nothing to tell. At least, that’s what you tell yourself but the others notice something.

"You’re in a good mood," Jihyo says one afternoon, squinting at you suspiciously over her coffee.

You blink. "Am I not allowed to be?"

"You are," she says slowly. "It’s just unusual."

Mingyu chimes in from across the table. "Yeah, you haven’t made fun of me once today. It’s kinda weirding me out."

You roll your eyes. "You want me to insult you?"

"Lowkey, yeah."

Jeonghan, who’s been scrolling through his phone this whole time, suddenly looks up. "Wait. You are acting different."

Irene nods, narrowing her eyes. "Yeah. You’re… less murdery. "You know." She gestures vaguely. "Less I’ll kill a man if he looks at me the wrong way."

You groan. "You guys are so dramatic."

"Okay, so what happened?" Jihyo presses.

"Nothing."

Jeonghan smirks. "That means something." Four pairs of eyes immediately narrow at you.

"Who is it?" Jeonghan adds, grinning like a wolf. "Oh, wait—" His eyes gleam with mischief. "Who’s the poor bastard?"

You roll your eyes. "There is no bastard. Poor or otherwise."

"She’s deflecting," Jihyo announces.

Mingyu leans forward. "It’s Seungcheol, isn’t it?"

You don’t react. Not visibly but the millisecond of silence is enough. Jeonghan’s grin explodes.

"Ohhhh, no way." Mingyu screeches.

You groan, dropping your head into your hands. You should’ve known. You deny, deny, deny until they finally give up, though not without a lot of suspicious side-eyes and unnecessary winks from Jeonghan.

By the time they stop prying, you think you’re in the clear.

That is, until Friday night.

It’s just supposed to be a normal night out—drinks, chaos, and Mingyu probably embarrassing himself at some point. The usual.

But then you see him.

Seungcheol.

And he’s not alone. You clock him the moment you step into the bar, leaning against the counter with a drink in hand, looking ridiculously good in a black button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He’s mid-laugh, talking to someone. Looks like a close friend. 

You don’t react, keeping your expression neutral, but Jeonghan notices immediately.

"Why do you look like you just saw a ghost?" he asks, following your gaze.

And because the universe is cruel, that’s the exact moment Seungcheol glances over and meets your eyes. A slow, knowing smirk spreads across his lips.

Jeonghan watches it all happen. His eyes widen before he turns to you, grinning like the menace he is. "Oh. My. God."

Mingyu, of course, is oblivious. "Drinks first!" he announces, leading the group toward an open spot by the bar.

Irene and Jihyo follow easily, already deep in conversation, but you feel Jeonghan at your side. His eyes are glinting. You just know he’s about to be a problem.

"You know," he says casually, "for someone who ‘definitely did not go on a date with Seungcheol,’ you two sure looked like you have history."

You don’t even blink. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Jeonghan snickers. "Right. And I’m a law-abiding citizen." You ignore him, signaling the bartender for a drink.

Everything is fine or at least it was until Seungcheol and his friend start making their way over. You don’t react. But you know Jeonghan notices the way you straighten up, the way your fingers tap once against the bar before going still.

His friend gets there first, smiling easily at the group. "Hey," he greets. "Didn’t know you guys were coming out tonight."

Mingyu perks up. "Joshua Hong! What’s up?" He claps Joshua's shoulder, immediately pulling him into conversation.

And that’s when he speaks.

"Small world, huh?"

You refuse to turn your head too fast, refuse to let your body react. Instead, you sip your drink first, then glance to the side. Seungcheol is looking at you like he knows something..

You raise an eyebrow. "Not really. Bars exist."

Mingyu, bless him, is still too caught up in talking to Joshua to notice the undercurrent of whatever is happening here. Irene and Jihyo are watching, though. They’re pretending to be casual, but you can feel their curiosity.

Seungcheol doesn’t drop it. He leans slightly closer, just enough for his voice to drop between the two of you. "You avoiding me?"

"Why would I do that?"

He tilts his head, pretending to think. "Maybe because someone went on a date with me and then acted like it never happened."

Jeonghan is eating this up. He’s watching like it’s his favorite drama, sipping his drink with barely concealed glee.

You sip your drink again, unfazed. "Must not have been that memorable then."

Seungcheol laughs like, full-on laughs and somehow that’s worse than if he had been annoyed.

"Oh, this is fun," he murmurs, shaking his head.

"You need better hobbies," you reply dryly.

"You’re right. I should pick up dating mysterious, difficult women who don’t text back."

You glance at him. "So you’re saying I’m a challenge?"

He smirks. "I’m saying I like challenges."

Your lips curve, but you don’t let the smile take over. You turn back to your drink instead and just like that, the moment passes. Instead, he just slides into conversation with the rest of the group like nothing happened. Like he’s not already thinking about the next time he’ll get you alone.

The night goes on as if nothing happened. As if Seungcheol didn’t just throw you off balance with his ridiculous smirk and infuriatingly charming presence. But then, when Seungcheol and Joshua drift off to another part of the bar, Jihyo pounces.

"Okay, explain."

You feign ignorance, sipping your drink. "Explain what?"

Irene scoffs. "Don’t play dumb. You were literally just flirting with him."

You roll your eyes. "I was not."

"That was the most obvious non-flirting flirting I’ve ever seen," Jihyo insists. "And I’ve known Jeonghan for years."

Jeonghan smirks. "She’s right, you know."

Mingyu, now finally catching up, furrows his brows. "Wait. Are we talking about Seungcheol?"

"No, we’re talking about your ability to be dense," Irene says, exasperated

Jihyo leans in. "I thought you wanted him."

You groan, rubbing your temples. "I do."

She blinks. "Then what’s the problem?"

You sigh. "That’s the problem."

Mingyu looks confused. "Wait, I’m lost."

Irene pats his arm. "Sweetie, this is grown-up business." This makes Mingyu glare at him, jokingly pushing her sideways

Mingyu scowls. "I am grown!"

"You’re a puppy," Jeonghan corrects.

Meanwhile, Jihyo is still staring at you like you’ve lost your mind. "So you want him, but that’s the problem."

"Yes."

She stares harder. "You’re gonna have to give me more than that."

You huff, crossing your arms. "Look, it’s one thing to think a guy is hot. It’s another to actually want to do something about it. And it’s another thing entirely when that guy is Seungcheol."

Jeonghan hums. "Because he’s…?"

"Because he’s Seungcheol." You gesture vaguely. "Effortlessly hot. Stupidly charming. A literal menace who just gets whatever he wants without even trying."

Jihyo raises an eyebrow. "And that’s… bad?"

You exhale. "It’s bad because I don’t lose. And I will lose against him."

There’s a beat of silence. Then Jeonghan bursts out laughing.

"Oh, my God," he wheezes, clutching his stomach. "This is amazing."

Mingyu blinks. "I still don’t get it."

Irene sighs, shaking her head. "She’s afraid he’s gonna wreck her life."

Mingyu tilts his head. "That’s dramatic."

Jihyo just smirks. "So what’s your plan?"

You sigh. "I don’t have one." And that? That’s the real problem.

It happens when you least expect it. One second, you’re at the bar with Jihyo, fending off yet another round of questioning. The next Seungcheol is there.

"Can I borrow her for a second?" he asks smoothly, voice just low enough that only you can hear the real intent behind it.

Jihyo raises a brow, eyes flickering between the two of you. You can practically hear her thoughts. But before she can say anything, Seungcheol’s hand finds yours then he’s pulling you away.

You follow, weaving through the crowd until he tugs you into a small corner of the bar. A photobooth. You barely register it before he pulls the curtain shut behind you. The space is tiny. Cramped. You can feel the heat of him, too close, too intoxicating.

"You could’ve just asked to talk," you say, leaning against the side of the booth like you’re not at all affected.

Seungcheol smirks, eyes flickering down to your lips for just a second. "Where’s the fun in that?"

Your pulse jumps. "You like making things difficult, don’t you?"

"I could say the same about you."

You roll your eyes, but the way he’s looking at you—steady, knowing, amused as hell—makes it hard to breathe.

"So," he says, voice softer now, more serious, "why didn’t you text me?"

You exhale, meeting his gaze. "Because I knew you’d find a way to track me down anyway."

"You think you have me figured out?"

You tilt your head, letting the silence stretch before you answer. "I think you don’t like losing."

Seungcheol watches you for a beat. Then he laughs. It’s soft at first, then full and deep, shaking his shoulders as he shakes his head. "God," he mutters, "I should’ve found you sooner."

Your chest tightens. The photobooth timer starts blinking.

3…

His gaze dips—

2…

You don’t move away

1.

The camera clicks.So does something else between you.

The next day at work, you’re in a mood. You glare at your computer. You glare at your coffee. You glare at the innocent potted plant on your desk. And your friends notice.

Jeonghan doesn’t ask immediately. He waits until you’re both in line at the café, you’re scrolling through your phone, pretending you don’t notice him watching you.

"So," he says casually, "when are you seeing him again?"

You freeze. Your finger hovers over your screen. You don’t look at him, but you can feel his smirk. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Jeonghan hums. "Sure you don’t."

You take a deep breath. "Nothing happened."

"See, I know that’s a lie," he says, stepping forward as the line moves. "Because if nothing happened, you wouldn’t be acting like a walking existential crisis."

You scowl. "I am not—"

"—a walking existential crisis?" Jeonghan interrupts, raising a brow. "Oh, please. You’ve been glitching all morning."

You roll your eyes, finally looking at him. "You’re being dramatic."

"Am I?" He crosses his arms. "Because if I recall correctly, you’re the one who wanted him at first sight."

You click your tongue, shifting your weight. "And that’s the problem."

Jeonghan leans in slightly, intrigued. "Because?"

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. "Because I’m hot and cold about this, okay? One second, I want to see where this goes. The next, I’m ready to vanish into the void."

He blinks. "So you like him."

You hesitate. "I—"

Jeonghan’s smirk returns. "Oh, you so like him."

You glare. "I barely know him."

"But you want to," he points out.

You exhale, dragging a hand down your face. "That’s exactly the problem. I don’t get like this."

Jeonghan nods slowly, as if considering. "So what I’m hearing is… Seungcheol has you shook."

You groan, stepping forward as the line moves again. "I hate you."

"You love me."

"Debatable."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Look, you can keep overthinking this, or you can just let yourself have some fun." He tilts his head. "Unless you’re scared?"

You bristle. "I’m not scared."

His smile widens. "Maybe. Or maybe you’ve just met your match." You stare at him, but before you can argue, the barista calls your order.

Jeonghan winks. "Think about it."

"This," you say flatly, "is why I hate most men."

Jeonghan snickers. "Oh, so you admit you don’t hate all men?"

You glare at him over the rim of your cup. "Unfortunately, some of you have managed to slip through the cracks."

He hums thoughtfully. "And would you say Seungcheol is one of those ‘slip through the cracks’ cases?"

You almost choke on your drink. "Jeonghan," you say warningly.

"Just saying," he muses, blowing on his coffee

You scoff. "Oh, please."

But then you hesitate because, damn it, he has a point. You liked Seungcheol immediately. One look, and you wanted him. And that never happens. It’s annoying. It’s unnerving. And the worst part? Seungcheol knows it.

It’s been a long day. You step out of the building, already thinking about what to make for dinner when you see him.

Seungcheol leaning against his car like he’s posing for a magazine, arms crossed, watching you with an amused tilt of his head. You stop in your tracks.

He smirks.

"Busy?" he asks, pushing off the car as you approach.

You narrow your eyes. "How did you know I was here?"

“Mingyu” you mutter under your breath how you’re going to kill the 6 foot tall man tomorrow. 

Seungcheol chuckles. "Be nice. I was gonna find you eventually."

You glare. "That’s not the point."

He tilts his head. "Then what is?"

You open your mouth then close it. Because, honestly? You’re not sure. Why does he keep coming back? And why the hell do you feel kind of excited that he’s here?

Seungcheol watches you wrestle with your thoughts, then grins. "You gonna invite me up?"

"To my apartment?"

"Where else?"

You fold your arms. "That’s bold."

He steps closer, just enough that you catch the faintest whiff of his cologne. "I don’t like wasting time."

Your heart skips. You should tell him to leave. You should ignore how good he looks in that damn suit. Instead you sigh. "Fine. But if you track me down again because of Mingyu, I’m sending both of you to hell."

Seungcheol grins. "Deal."

The entire drive back to your place is infuriating.

Seungcheol is smiling, smirking, even, like he just won some kind of game. Meanwhile, you’re glaring out the window, arms crossed, regretting every decision that led to this moment. When he finally pulls up to your building, you let out a deep breath, like you’ve just survived something mentally exhausting.

"You always this grumpy?" Seungcheol teases as he steps out of the car.

You shoot him a look. "You always this persistent?"

He just grins. You roll your eyes, leading him up to your apartment. The moment you step inside, you toe off your shoes, toss your bag onto the couch, and grab your phone.

"I’m ordering food," you announce, already scrolling through your go-to delivery app. Seungcheol follows you in, looking around like he’s taking mental notes.

"Nice place," he comments, settling onto your couch like he’s been here before.

You glance at him. "You say that like you weren’t planning to judge it."

And before you can stop yourself, you ask, "Why are you doing this?"

Seungcheol looks at you, head tilting slightly. "Doing what?"

You sigh, turning to fully face him. "This." You motion between the two of you. "Showing up. Finding my number. Tracking me down." For a second, he just watches you. Like he’s figuring something out. Then, he leans back, resting an arm over the couch.

"So this is why they call you the man hater."

You blink. "Excuse me?"

“You’re suspicious of a guy just because he likes you?"

You stare at him, trying to come up with a solid counterargument, something to wipe that smug look off his face.

"Weren’t you the one who approached me first?" Seungcheol asks, raising a brow.

You freeze because technically, yes. You were. That night at the bar, it was you who walked up to him. You who spoke first. You who, despite your reputation of never being impressed by men, took one look at him and wanted him.

And Seungcheol, the same man who apparently turns down women without a second thought, didn’t turn you away. And now? He’s here. Sitting on your couch. Acting like this is just the natural order of things.

"You’re twisting my words," you argue, folding your arms.

"Am I?"

You narrow your eyes. "I approached you because I was curious."

He tilts his head. "And now?"

Every interaction with him has been throwing you off your game. You’re used to being in control but with Seungcheol, it’s like every move he makes is intentional, and he’s too good at getting under your skin.

"You’re annoying," you finally say.

He smirks. "And yet, here I am."

You let out a slow exhale, rolling your eyes. "I should’ve ignored your number that night."

Seungcheol watches your expression shift, and something about it amuses him. "You always like this?"

"Like what?"

He leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "Fighting yourself."

You stare at him. "I don’t—"

"You do," he interrupts, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "You’re hot and cold with me, and I think it’s because you don’t like how much you want this."

You hate that he’s right.

"You are so—"

"Annoying?" He grins. "You’ve said."

"Why are you even interested?"

“I like you."

Your heart skips but you refuse to let him see that. So instead, you exhale, shaking your head as you tap at your phone. "You’re ridiculous."

"And you like that," he counters. You pretend you don’t hear him as you place the order.

The food arrives, and you both settle in to eat. Seungcheol sits across from you, comfortably digging into his meal like he belongs here. Like he hasn’t been pushing your buttons all night.

You, on the other hand? You’re still glaring.

He looks up mid-bite, noticing your expression, and smirks. "You always eat like you’re plotting a murder?"

You stab at your food with a little more force than necessary. "Just considering my options."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "You should really work on your intimidation tactics."

You huff. "They work on everyone else."

"Ah," he nods, chewing thoughtfully. "So I’m special."

You pause. Damn it. "That’s not what I—"

He holds up a hand, cutting you off. "Don’t worry, I get it. I’m persistent, irritatingly charming, and you don’t know what to do with that."

You scowl. "I know exactly what to do with that."

He raises a brow. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You gesture to the door. "Kick you out." Seungcheol laughs. Full-bodied, genuine, like you’re the most entertaining thing he’s come across in a long time. You hate how nice it sounds.

"Okay," he says, still grinning. "I’ll leave—after we finish eating."

You squint. "You act like you’re doing me a favor."

He smirks. "Aren’t I?"

You refuse to dignify that with a response. Instead, you focus on your food, pointedly ignoring how Seungcheol watches you with that infuriatingly amused expression, like he already knows he’ll see you again.

After dinner you walk him to the door, arms crossed, your glare still very much in place. Seungcheol, in contrast, looks ridiculously satisfied, like he’s had the best night of his life just bothering you.

You stop at the door, unlocking it before turning to him with a deadpan expression.

"I changed my mind," you announce.

His brows lift slightly. "About what?"

"I don’t like you anymore."

Seungcheol grins. Like full-on, dimple-showing, teeth-flashing grin.

"That so?" he hums, stepping just a little closer, enough that you have to tilt your head to keep eye contact.

Your jaw tightens. "Yes."

He tilts his head slightly, watching you with the same entertained look he’s had all night.

"That’s a shame," he murmurs.

You cross your arms tighter. "Why?"

"Because," he leans in, voice dropping just enough to make your breath catch, "I still like you." He pulls back, opens the door himself, and steps out. 

"Goodnight," he says, like this is just routine now. Leaving you standing there, your heart beating entirely too fast, absolutely furious that he got the last word.

The next morning, you stomp out of your building and slide into Jeonghan’s car with more force than necessary.

Jeonghan barely glances at you before pulling out onto the street. "Good morning to you too."

You cross your arms, scowling at the window. "I hate him."

"Who?"

You don’t answer right away, mostly because admitting it feels like a loss. But then, under your breath "Seungcheol."

Jeonghan laughs. "You know, for someone who supposedly hates men, you’re really bad at resisting this one."

"I’m not—" You pause. "He’s just—annoying."

"And yet," Jeonghan drawls, "here you are, grumbling his name first thing in the morning."

You shoot him a glare. "Drive the damn car, Jeonghan."

He grins wider, turning up the radio. "Whatever you say, lovergirl."

You get to your desk, ready to start your day with the same level of annoyance you’ve carried since last night and then you see them. A bouquet. Right there. Sitting in the middle of your desk. Jeonghan, who’s still walking behind you, lets out a low whistle. "Oh, would you look at that?"

You drop your bag, snatch up the little card attached, and read it twice just to be sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you.

Try again. I think you still like me. —S.C.

Your eye twitches. Jeonghan, blatantly reading over your shoulder, bursts out laughing.

"Oh, this is amazing," he says, delighted. "I’ve never seen someone get under your skin this fast."

You slam the card down, glaring at the flowers like they’re the true enemy. "I hate him."

"You’ve mentioned." Jeonghan plucks one of the flowers from the bouquet, twirling it between his fingers. "So what are you gonna do?"

You grab the bouquet with way too much force, march over to Mingyu’s desk, and shove it onto his table. Mingyu, who was minding his own damn business, blinks in confusion. "Uh—?"

"They’re yours now," you say, turning away.

"But—"

"You’re welcome!" you call over your shoulder, marching back to your desk. Jeonghan watches the entire thing with an evil smirk.

"You really think that’s gonna stop him?" he muses.

You drop into your chair, arms crossed. "I don’t care."

Meanwhile, across town Seungcheol leans back in his chair, arms crossed, watching Joshua with a smirk.

"She gave them to Mingyu?"

Joshua, who had just finished relaying the entire story from Mingyu’s frantic texts, sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She didn’t even hesitate."

Seungcheol chuckles, clearly not deterred. "Figures."

Joshua gives him a look. "You sound way too happy about that."

"Because I am," Seungcheol says simply.

Joshua stares. "You just got rejected via floral delivery, and you’re smiling."

Seungcheol shrugs, completely unbothered. "She reacted."

Joshua raises a brow. "That’s your takeaway?"

"Of course," Seungcheol leans forward, tapping his fingers against his desk. "If she really didn’t care, she would’ve ignored them. But instead, she marched across the office, gave them to Mingyu, and made sure I’d hear about it."

Joshua squints. "That’s…a reach."

Seungcheol just grins. "Is it?"

Joshua sighs, already exhausted. "Okay, so what’s the plan now, lover boy?"

Seungcheol picks up his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he lands on the one he had personally gotten from Mingyu last week. Your phone buzzes on your desk, and you glance at it once. Then you freeze because there, bright as day, Seungcheol.

Your fingers twitch. You shouldn’t pick up. In fact, you should do the responsible thing and ignore him completely but then the call keeps ringing, like he knows you’re staring at it, like he’s waiting for you to break.

You almost ignore it..Almost. With an annoyed huff, you snatch up the phone and answer.

"What."

A low chuckle greets you from the other end. "That’s no way to greet your boyfriend."

Your entire body jerks. "Excuse me?"

"Ah," Seungcheol hums, clearly amused. "Too soon?"

"Way too soon," you deadpan. "And completely delusional."

"And yet, here you are, answering my call."

Your eye twitches. "Do you want something, or are you just here to waste my time?"

"Both," he admits easily.

You resist the urge to throw your phone. "Seungcheol."

"Fine, fine," he laughs. "Just wanted to check if my flowers got delivered."

You glare at nothing. "Oh, they did."

"And?"

"And they now belong to Mingyu." There’s a beat of silence then he’s laughing. And you hate it, you hate how good it sounded. 

“You’re so cute when you’re difficult."

You hang up immediately and then proceed to glare at your phone like it’s personally betrayed you. Across the room, Jeonghan watches your entire reaction unfold, smirk growing wider by the second.

"So," he drawls, "how’s your boyfriend?"

You launch a stress ball at his head.

Later that night, Jeonghan is sprawled out on your couch, one arm slung over his face as he lazily kicks at the air.

"You got any more of those fancy chips?" he asks.

You barely glance up from your phone. "Pantry."

"Ugh. Too far."

"You have legs."

He groans dramatically, but he doesn’t move. You roll your eyes and keep scrolling, ignoring him—until his voice turns serious.

"Alright," he says, sitting up. "All jokes aside—what’s going on?"

You pause, side-eyeing him. "What?"

Jeonghan leans forward, elbows on his knees, studying you in a way that makes you shift uncomfortably.

"You said it yourself that you wanted him," he says, voice softer now. "So why are you acting like this?"

Because you’ve been here before. Because the last time you really liked someone, you got your hopes up, and it all went to shit. Because you’ve learned the hard way that people say one thing and do another, that words mean nothing without action.

Jeonghan knows this. He’s been there through it all—through the flings, the almost-relationships, the guys who were great until they weren’t. He was there when you decided you were done trying, when you shrugged off love like it was an optional extra, not something you needed.

Now, he’s watching you like he’s seeing through you.

"You’re scared," he says simply.

You scoff. "I am not—"

"You are," he cuts in. "And I get it. But you can’t keep pushing people away just because they might disappoint you."

You bite your lip, looking away.

"Seungcheol isn’t them," Jeonghan continues. "And I don’t think he’s gonna give up just because you’re being difficult."

"...Maybe he should."

Jeonghan chuckles, but it’s not mocking. "Too bad for you, I don’t think he will."

You scoff, crossing your arms. "He will."

Jeonghan raises a brow, amused. "You sure about that?"

"Yes," you say firmly. "He’s rich, good-looking, and clearly used to getting what he wants. Guys like him don’t chase for long. The second I make it too much work, he’ll move on."

Jeonghan just smirks, shaking his head. "That’s cute. You think you’re hard to want."

You glare. "Don’t analyze me. I am not dealing with another guy who’s all interest at first and then disappears the moment things get real."

Jeonghan hums, watching you for a moment. Then, with a knowing glint in his eyes, he asks, "So if he doesn’t disappear?"

You blink.

"If he doesn’t give up," Jeonghan says, leaning closer. "If he keeps showing up, keeps proving you wrong—then what?"

You press your lips together, refusing to answer. Because you don’t know.

Jeonghan’s words replay in your head for the next couple of days. You try to brush them off, but they stick. if he doesn’t give up, then what?

But then, Seungcheol stops contacting you.No texts. No calls. No annoying flower deliveries. And in your mind, you’re like, See? I was right.

You told Jeonghan exactly how this would go. Guys like Seungcheol don’t chase for long. They get bored, they move on, they—

Knock, knock.

Your head snaps toward the door, heart inexplicably jumping. It’s late. You’re already in pajamas, wrapped in a blanket on your couch, halfway through a show you weren’t even paying attention to. The knocking comes again.

Slowly, you get up and pull open the door and there he is.

Seungcheol stands in front of you, looking annoyingly good despite the slight exhaustion in his eyes. He’s wearing a dark coat over a fitted sweater, and there’s an expensive-looking suitcase at his feet.

And in his hand a snow globe.

You blink. "What…?"

"Hey," he says, Just got back from a business trip."

You stare at him. "A business trip."

"Yeah." He lifts the snow globe slightly. "Paris.".

"You brought me a souvenir?"

Seungcheol smirks. "What, you think I’d go all the way to Paris and not bring you something?"

"I—" You pause, suddenly feeling very warm despite the cold draft from the open door. "I just—"

"You thought I gave up," he says simply.

Your stomach flips. You cross your arms, standing a little straighter. "Maybe."

For a second, neither of you say anything. Then, before your brain can catch up, you reach out slow, hesitant and take the snow globe from his hand.

"...Thanks," you mumble.

Seungcheol grins. "You’re welcome."

You step aside, wordlessly letting him in. Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate, walking past you like he belongs there. 

"Why do you always look like you want to fight me?" he asks, amused.

"I don’t," you say flatly.

"You do," he counters, dropping onto your couch like it’s his. "You’ve been glaring at me since the day we met."

You cross your arms. "Maybe it’s just my face."

"It’s cute."

You narrow your eyes. "Don’t start."

Seungcheol laughs, stretching out comfortably. "You gonna offer me a drink or just keep staring at me?"

You inhale sharply, fighting the urge to throw him out. Instead, you turn and march into the kitchen, grabbing two glasses of water. When you return, he’s still lounging on your couch, completely at home.

You set his glass down with a little too much force. "Here."

Seungcheol picks it up, giving you a slow, knowing look. "You’re really bad at this," he says.

"At what?"

"Letting yourself like me." You almost choke on your own water. And Seungcheol? He just smiles.

He takes a slow sip of his water, watching you over the rim of the glass like he’s studying you. Then, like he can read your mind, he says, "Before you start spiraling—I didn’t text because I was busy. Meetings from morning to night, different time zones, clients to entertain. I barely slept, let alone had time to talk."

You blink. "I didn’t ask," you say, defensive.

He smirks. "Then don’t overthink."

You open your mouth to argue because you were not overthinking, thank you very much—but he just keeps going.

"I was in Paris for four days. Mostly business, but I had a few hours to walk around. Thought about you when I saw that snow globe."

Your stomach flips against your will. You grip your glass tighter. "You—what?"

"I thought you’d like it," he says simply. "Or maybe you'd just glare at it. Either way, it reminded me of you."

You stare at him, lips parting slightly because what the hell is he even saying? Because he says it like it’s not a big deal. Like it’s normal to have you on his mind while he’s halfway across the world. So, naturally, you do what you do best—deflect.

"You just showed up at my place," you say, voice carefully flat. "What if I wasn’t home?"

Seungcheol grins. "Then I’d have waited."

"Like a stalker?"

"Like a guy who wants to see you."

Your brain short-circuits.You scramble for something anything to say, but he beats you to it.

"You really don’t get it, do you?"

You frown. "Get what?"

He leans forward, setting his glass down on the coffee table, and your whole body tenses when he holds your gaze. "I don’t do things halfway," he says. "I wanted you from the start. That hasn’t changed."

And suddenly, you’re overthinking again. You fold your arms across your chest, keeping your expression carefully neutral. "You're just saying that because you like the chase."

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. "And you're saying that because you want me to think you're still a man hater."

"Excuse me?" you say, narrowing your eyes.

He shrugs, completely unfazed. "You keep acting like you don’t care, like you’re waiting for me to mess up so you can say ‘See? I told you so.’ But you’re just trying to protect yourself."

He’s too damn perceptive. Too calm, too confident in the way he calls you out.

"You don’t know what you’re talking about," you mutter, looking away.

Seungcheol scoffs. "I do, actually."

He leans forward again, resting his elbows on his knees. "You liked me the second you saw me," he says, voice lower now, smoother. "And that scared the hell out of you."

Your breath catches because he’s right. You hate that he’s right. And the worst part? He sees it. You don’t answer. That's when Seungcheol does something you don’t expect. He stands up. And just like that, the whole atmosphere shifts. The teasing glint in his eyes is gone, replaced with something steadier. Something serious.

"If you don’t want me here, say the word and I’ll leave."

You swallow hard. Your fingers tighten around the edge of your sweater. Because this is it. The out you’ve been waiting for. The chance to end this before you get in too deep.

Your voice is quieter than you intend when you say, "If I do, will you leave?"

Seungcheol watches you, his gaze unwavering. "Yes." You know he’s telling the truth. He’s not the kind of guy to stick around where he isn’t wanted.

"You won’t fight for it?" you ask, hating how vulnerable the words sound.

A small, knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "I already am."

Your breath catches because damn him. Damn him for saying things like that. Damn him for not pushing, not forcing, just waiting. 

So instead, you exhale, looking away. "Sit down, you’re making me nervous."

Seungcheol smiles and just like that, the tension cracks.

"Yes, ma’am," he teases, sinking back onto the couch like he owns the place.

You roll your eyes, but the corner of your lips betrays you—a slight, reluctant twitch. He sees it, of course. And you don’t miss the satisfied look on his face when he does.

A few days later, Mingyu ruins everything.

“We should go out for drinks,” he says, like it’s just a casual suggestion and not a trap. And like idiots, you all agree. You don’t think anything of it until "By the way," Mingyu adds, far too casually, "I invited Seungcheol."

You freeze.

Mingyu grins, oblivious to the murderous intent in your eyes. "You don’t mind, right?"

Jeonghan snickers. Irene and Jihyo exchange looks.

"Why would she mind?" Irene asks, ever the instigator.

"You’re all insufferable," you mutter, grabbing your drink and pretending you’re unaffected.

You’re going to ignore him. You’re going to sit with your friends, drink, and not think about him. It’s a solid plan.

Then he walks in.

And suddenly, your plan evaporates.

Seungcheol is unfair. Black button-up, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, looking effortlessly good in the worst possible way. He steps into the bar with Joshua beside him, scanning the room and then his eyes land on you.

You should play it cool. Pretend to be mad at him. Hold onto your last shred of self-respect but the moment you see him, you walk straight up to him, ignoring the way your friends watch with poorly concealed amusement.

Seungcheol’s lips twitch, like he was expecting this. "Hi."

You scowl. "I hate you."

He grins. "You said that last time. Didn’t sound very convincing then either."

You open your mouth to argue—but you don’t. Because damn it, you don’t hate him at all. So you stare at him, arms crossed, and say, “What, you’re too busy now?”

His smirk deepens. “Didn’t know you’d miss me so much.”

You scoff. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you implied it.”

Your eyes narrow. “You’re deflecting.”

He shrugs, completely unbothered. “I’ve been busy.”

“Oh, so you admit it?”

Seungcheol tilts his head, amused. “Didn’t I text you?”

Your lips press together. Okay, fair point. He did text. A few times.

A "How was your day?"A "Don’t overthink too much." 

Still, you lift your chin. “Texts aren’t the same.”

His brow arches. “So you’re saying you wanted to see me?”

 “That is absolutely not what I said.”

Seungcheol just laughs. “But it’s what you meant.”

“Oh my god, I hate you.”

His grin is downright infuriating. “You keep saying that, but I don’t think you mean it.”

You spin on your heel. “I’m leaving.”

Seungcheol just laughs, completely unbothered, like he already knows you don’t mean it. He slides into the seat beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

“I was busy because of work,” he murmurs, voice smooth, almost apologetic—but not quite. “Wanted to come see you, but I figured you’d be tired after work, too.”

Your eyes narrow. “That’s your excuse?”

He tilts his head, smirking. “It’s the truth.”

You glare harder, hoping it’ll somehow make him squirm. It doesn’t. He just watches you, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s fighting back a laugh.

“So considerate of you,” you say dryly.

He hums. “I try.” Seungcheol, of course, takes that as his cue to get comfortable. He leans back, stretching his arm along the back of the booth—not quite touching you, but close enough.

“You’re still mad,” he observes, sounding entirely too entertained.

“No,” you deadpan. “I’m thrilled.”

Seungcheol laughs under his breath. “You’re cute when you sulk.”

Your head snaps toward him, eyes burning with fresh irritation. “I am not sulking.”

He just grins. “Whatever you say.”

You step out onto the balcony, the night air cool against your skin as you take a deep breath. You just need a moment, one single moment to yourself. Of course, that’s impossible when Seungcheol is involved.

The door clicks shut behind you, and you don’t even have to turn around to know it’s him. You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Don’t mind me. I’ll sulk on my own.”

Seungcheol hums as he leans against the railing beside you. “Nah, can’t let that happen.”

You throw him a glare. “And why not?”

He shrugs, watching the city lights with an infuriatingly calm expression. “I’d feel bad.”

You scoff. “Oh, now you feel bad?”

“I’ve always felt bad.”

“You don’t look like you do.”

He tilts his head toward you, smiling slightly. “Alright, what do you want, then?”

You exhale, glancing away. The truth sits heavy on your tongue, but you don’t say it. You’re still you, after all. Instead, you mutter, “For you to stop being annoying.”

A breeze drifts between you, carrying the sounds of laughter from inside. For a second, neither of you speak. Then Seungcheol nudges your arm lightly. “You’re really not gonna admit you missed me, huh?”

You don’t say anything.

His smirk softens into something else. Something dangerous. “I can wait.” He exhales, watching you carefully. The smirk fades, replaced by something quieter. something real.

Then he says it.

“I missed you.”

The words slip out so casually, so effortlessly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Your fingers tighten around the railing. Your brain stalls. Your heart does this stupid little flip in your chest. You finally turn to face him, none of the usual teasing or frustration in your expression is just seriousness.

“If it’s going to be like this,” you say, voice steady, “you disappear for days, then coming back like nothing happened then it’s not going to work.”

Seungcheol’s smirk fades completely. He studies you, really looks at you, and you can tell he understands that you’re not just saying this to pick a fight.

He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?” You cross your arms. “You come and then go, then you just show up out of nowhere. Do you expect me to just—” You shake your head. “I don’t play games, Seungcheol.”

“I know,” he says immediately. “I know you don’t.”

You sigh. “Then what are we doing?”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then, carefully, “I didn’t think you’d want me to check in like that.”

You blink. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He hesitates. “Because you act like you don’t care half the time.” That stings. Not because he’s wrong, but because he’s right.

You inhale sharply. “That’s just how I am.”

“I know,” he says again, softer this time. “But if I’m going to try with you, I don’t want to be another person you expect to leave.”

Seungcheol holds your gaze, unwavering. “So tell me what you want. What you really want.”

For the first time since this started, you don’t have a comeback. You suddenly feel the urge to leave.

Seungcheol’s words sit heavy in your chest—you act like you don’t care half the time. It stung more than you wanted to admit, and now the whole night feels ruined.

“I’m heading out,” you say abruptly, turning on your heel.

You return inside, Seungcheol following behind you. Jeonghan, ever the observant one, catches on immediately. “Let’s go home yea?” he says, grabbing his coat. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t press. Just sticks by your side, because he knows you.

Mingyu frowns. “Already? But we just—”

“Let her go,” Seungcheol says. His voice is unreadable. You don’t look back. Jeonghan walks you out, calls a ride, and when you’re finally inside the car, he leans back with a sigh.

“You gonna tell me what happened?”

You stare out the window. “No.”

He hums, not pushing further. Instead, when you get home, he stays. Puts on a random movie, hands you a blanket, and lets you sit in silence.

Because Jeonghan knows you’ll talk when you’re ready. He doesn’t look at you right away. He stays focused on the movie, lthen he hears it.

A sniffle.

It’s quiet, barely there, but Jeonghan notices everything.

He doesn’t immediately react, doesn’t turn his head or ask if you’re okay, because he knows you. Knows that if he does, you’ll shut down completely.

“I think I’m screwing it up.”

Jeonghan doesn’t even blink. “With Seungcheol?”

You nod.

“Yeah,” he says, blowing on his own tea. “I figured.”

You furrow your brows. “How?”

He snorts. “Because you’re you.” You glare at him again, but he just drives. Eyes still on the road

“I’m serious,”

“So am I,” he says easily. “You’re panicking because this is probably the first time in a long time that you actually like someone. And instead of dealing with it like a normal person, you’re, well—”

“Ruining it?”

Jeonghan shrugs. “Self-sabotaging. But close enough.”

“Great.”

Jeonghan watches you for a moment. Then, softer this time “What did he say to make you leave?”

You hesitate. Then, voice barely above a whisper “That I act like I don’t care.”

“Well, he’s not wrong.”

You snap your head toward him, eyes wide. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

You scowl, ready to argue, but then the truth of it hits you.

And maybe that’s why it hurt so much. Because Seungcheol wasn’t wrong. Because you do act like you don’t care, even when you do. Because this whole time, you’ve been pushing and pulling, running hot and cold, and yet

Yet, he’s still here. Still choosing you. The realization makes your chest feel uncomfortably tight.

So you do what you always do when it gets too much. You don’t reach out.

Not the next day. Not the day after that. You tell yourself it’s for the best. That it’s easier this way. That Seungcheol will eventually get the hint and move on.

But then why do you feel like absolute shit?

You go through the motions—work, home, repeat—but there’s this persistent weight in your chest that refuses to go away.

It’s easy to avoid Seungcheol, at least. He works across town, and it’s not like you run in the same circles outside of Mingyu dragging him along. Still. You hate how aware you are of his absence. It’s ridiculous, really. You’ve only known him for a few months, but somehow, he’s already made himself at home in your thoughts.

You wonder if he’s given up on you yet. If he’s decided you’re not worth the effort. The thought makes you feel worse.

You almost walk right past him.

Almost.

“Hey.”

Your steps falter. You take a slow breath before turning to him. He’s standing by the entrance of your building, hands in his pockets, looking at you like he’s been waiting.

You scoff. “Oh. Now you know me?”

Seungcheol exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Don’t do that.”

You don’t even know what exactly you’re doing, but you’re already annoyed. “Do what?”

He gives you a flat look. “Push me away.”

You cross your arms. “Maybe you should take the hint, then.”

Seungcheol steps forward. “You don’t want that.”

You step back. “I don’t?”

“You don’t.” You hate that he’s right. That he can see it. That it’s written all over your face no matter how hard you try to deny it and it frustrates you. More than it should.

“Look, Seungcheol,” you sigh, voice heavy with exhaustion. “You can’t just disappear for days and then show up like—”

“Like what?” he interrupts. “Like I actually give a damn about you?” You flinch. It’s not even what he said. It’s how he said it. The sincerity in his voice. The quiet frustration.

You look away. “I didn’t ask you to.”

He laughs under his breath. “Yeah. That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

You hate the way he’s looking at you. Like he knows. Like he’s waiting for you to stop fighting him. You shake your head. “You should go.”

But Seungcheol doesn’t move. Instead, he tilts his head, studying you.  “Do you want me to?”

The answer is no but you don’t say it. You can’t stand the way he looks at you, like he’s already figured you out. Like he knows every excuse, every defense mechanism, every wall you put up before you even have the chance to throw them at him.

So you do what you do best. You push.

"Let’s just go back to thinking I don’t care." The words taste bitter, but you swallow them down, turning on your heel before he can say anything else.

You walk away.

One step.

Two.

Three.

You expect him to stop you. To grab your wrist. To call your name again. To say something but he doesn’t.

The air is heavy with everything unsaid, with everything you’re choosing to leave behind. And yet the farther you get, the harder it is to breathe. Your own words echo in your head, louder and louder, until you almost want to take them back.

Almost.

But you don’t.

Because that would mean admitting that he’s right. That you don’t actually want him to leave. That you’ve just been pushing him away because it’s easier than facing what’s really scaring you.

Because if you admit that you care—really, really care—then that means he has the power to hurt you.

And you’re not sure if you can survive that again.

And Seungcheol?

He lets you go.

The next day Jeonghan doesn’t even need to say anything. The moment he sees you step out of your apartment building, he knows. Your eyes are puffy, your hair is a mess, and you look like you barely got any sleep. Like hell, basically.

"So, rough night?" he asks, starting the car. You grunt in response, which tells him enough.

"You wanna talk about it, or should I just let you wallow in silence until you eventually explode?"

"Silence."

"Got it."

The drive is quiet, but Jeonghan sneaks glances at you every now and then. He’s been with you long enough to recognize when you’re doing it again. The overthinking. The self-sabotaging. The pushing away before you can get hurt.

He knows you want Seungcheol. He knows you care. And he knows that you’re terrified of letting yourself have something good.

So when he finally pulls into the parking lot and parks the car, he doesn’t unlock the doors right away. Instead, he turns to you, voice softer this time.

"You look miserable."

"Wow, thanks."

"I mean it. You look like you barely slept. You’re doing that thing where you overthink yourself into a corner and decide for yourself that you’re better off alone before anyone can prove you wrong."

You hate how accurate that is. "I don’t wanna talk about it, Hannie."

"Fine." He unlocks the doors. "But at some point, you’re gonna have to."

You sigh and grab your bag, stepping out of the car. But as you walk toward the building, Jeonghan calls after you.

"Just answer me one thing—if he calls, are you gonna pick up?"

You pause. The fact that you even hesitate tells him everything. Jeonghan watches you, waiting. Maybe hoping. But when you finally speak, your voice is so quiet.

“No.”

It’s not stubborn. It’s not defensive. It’s not even angry. It’s just… defeated. Like every last bit of fight has already drained out of you.

And that is what makes Jeonghan shut up. 

So, even though it kills him to see you like this, he sighs and just says, “Alright. Dropped.”

But Jeonghan doesn’t move right away. He just sits there in the driver’s seat, watching you disappear through the doors. And for the first time in a long time, he wonders if this time—with Seungcheol—maybe you’re making a mistake.

Jeonghan, Jihyo, Mingyu, and Irene are already a few drinks in when Mingyu suddenly stiffens, his eyes narrowing toward the entrance of the bar.

“Oh, shit.”

Jihyo follows his gaze and lets out a low whistle. “Well, well, well. Look who it is.”

Jeonghan doesn’t even need to look. He already knows. Joshua Hong walks in first, smiling as he exchanges greetings with someone at the bar.

And right behind him? Choi Seungcheol.

It’s been 2 weeks and Seungcheol looks… the same. Maybe a little tired, but still him. The group watches as he follows Joshua toward a table, not even glancing their way.

“Are we going to talk to them?” Irene asks, swirling her drink.

“Should we?” Mingyu hesitates.

Jeonghan sighs, rubbing his temples. He’s been waiting for something like this to happen. Because of course it would. The universe wouldn’t let things be that easy.

Jeonghan exhales, slow and measured, before tossing back the rest of his drink.

“I’ll go.”

Jihyo raises an eyebrow. “You sure?”

Jeonghan shrugs as he pushes back his chair. “Someone has to.”

Mingyu shifts in his seat. “Want me to—”

“No,” Jeonghan cuts him off, shaking his head. “If it’s just me, he won’t feel cornered.”

They don’t argue. They know Jeonghan well enough to trust him with this. So, with one last glance at the others, Jeonghan straightens his shirt and makes his way across the bar.

“Joshua.”

Joshua turns first, eyebrows lifting in surprise before his lips pull into a smile. “Jeonghan! What a coincidence.”

Seungcheol looks up then, mid-sip of his drink, and his expression flickers—just for a second—before smoothing out. Jeonghan pulls out a chair and sits without asking.

Joshua leans forward, propping his chin on his hand. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you tonight. The others here too?”

Jeonghan ignores the question and turns to Seungcheol instead. “You doing alright?”

Seungcheol stares at him, unreadable. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Jeonghan hums, tapping his fingers against the table. “Dunno. Just seems like you haven’t been around much lately.”

Joshua looks between them, lips twitching, but he wisely keeps quiet.

Seungcheol finally exhales, setting his drink down. “Is this about—”

“Of course it’s about her.” Jeonghan doesn’t even let him finish. “You think we wouldn’t notice?”

Seungcheol presses his lips into a thin line.

Jeonghan tilts his head. “She’s been avoiding everything that even remotely reminds her of you. And she’s stubborn as hell, but I know her. She’s not okay.”

Seungcheol’s grip tightens on his glass.

Joshua sighs, leaning back in his chair. “This is why I told you to just talk to her already.”

Seungcheol runs a hand down his face, clearly frustrated. “And say what?”

Jeonghan narrows his eyes. “Say you’re sorry. Say you care. Say literally anything, because she’s convinced herself you don’t.”

Seungcheol exhales sharply. “That’s not—” He stops himself, shaking his head. “She told me to leave.”

“She tells everyone to leave,” Jeonghan deadpans. “And she’s always surprised when they actually do.”

Seungcheol goes quiet. Jeonghan leans forward, voice steady but firm. “If you don’t care, then stay away. But if you do? Do something. Because right now, all you’re doing is proving her right.”

Seungcheol stares down at his drink. Jeonghan watches him, waiting.

And then, after a long moment Seungcheol stands.

Joshua blinks. “Oh? We’re going now?” Seungcheol ignores him, pulling his wallet out and throwing some cash on the table. Then, finally, he turns to Jeonghan.

“Where is she?”

Jeonghan tried calling again. Straight to voicemail.

He frowned. “She’s not answering.”

Seungcheol’s jaw clenched. “Is she home?”

“I don’t know,” Jeonghan muttered, already pulling up your shared location—but of course, it was off.

Joshua exhaled through his nose. “Maybe she’s asleep?”

Jeonghan shook his head. “She always leaves her phone on, even if she’s mad. If she’s not answering, it means she either doesn’t want to be found or—” He stops himself, lips pressing into a thin line. Seungcheol didn’t need him to finish the sentence. His hands curled into fists.

“Where would she go?” he asked, voice tight.

Jeonghan exchanged a look with Mingyu, who had come over after noticing their conversation.

Mingyu sighed. “There’s a place. She used to go there when she needed to clear her head.”

Seungcheol didn’t waste time asking more. “Where?”

Mingyu hesitated, just for a second. Then, seeing the way Seungcheol was barely holding himself together, he pulled out his phone and sent the location.

“Don’t mess this up,” Mingyu muttered.

Seungcheol was already heading for the door. He wasn’t sure what he expected when he got there, but an old bookstore tucked into a quiet street wasn’t it. The lights inside were dim and warm, casting a soft glow through the large windows. He pushed the door open, the bell above jingling softly. 

An old woman, sitting behind the counter, looked up. She peered at him through her glasses, eyes sharp despite her gentle smile.

“You must be the one,” she said simply.

Seungcheol blinked. “Excuse me?”

The old woman hummed, nodding toward the back. “She’s here. Been here all day.”

He followed her gaze and, sure enough, there you were—curled up in one of the armchairs near the back, a book resting on your lap, though you weren’t reading it. Instead, you were staring out the window, lost in thought.

You felt his presence before you saw him. Maybe it was the way the air shifted, or maybe you had been waiting for him all along, but when he stopped in front of you, you weren’t surprised.

“You’re a hard person to find,” he said quietly.

You closed the book in your lap, fingers tracing the edges of the cover. “Didn’t realize I was supposed to be found.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell anyone where you were?”

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

Seungcheol crouched down so he was eye level with you. “Are you okay?”

You looked at him then, really looked at him. His eyes were searching, his face unreadable. And for some reason, that made something in your chest tighten.

“I don’t know,” you admitted.

He exhaled softly. “Can I sit?”

You didn’t answer, but you moved your legs so there was space on the other armchair beside you. He took the silent invitation, settling in.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The quiet hum of the bookstore surrounded you.

Finally, Seungcheol broke the silence. “Why did you run?”

You frowned. “I didn’t run.”

He gave you a look. “You disappeared. No one could reach you. That’s running.”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the chair. “I just needed time.”

“To do what?”

“To think,” you muttered.

Seungcheol tilted his head, watching you closely. “And?”

You hesitated, fingers tightening around the book. “And I don’t know what to do with you.”

He let out a small chuckle. “I get that a lot.”

“I’m serious.”

His expression softened. “So am I.”

You sighed, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you. “I don’t know how to do this, Seungcheol. I don’t know how to trust that this won’t end up like before.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, he said, “I’m not whoever hurt you.”

You swallowed. “I know that.”

“Do you?” His voice was gentle, but firm. “Because it seems like you’re punishing me for something I didn’t do.”

Your chest ached. “It’s not that simple.”

“I know,” he said. “But I need you to at least give me a chance.�� You stared at him, searching for any hint of dishonesty. But all you found was sincerity.

The lump in your throat grew. “And if I can’t?”

“Then I’ll wait.”

You closed your eyes, exhaling shakily. “You make it sound so easy.”

He smiled, though there was something sad in it. “It’s not. But I think you’re worth it.”

Your heart stumbled over itself. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t know what to say.

The old lady approached with slow, deliberate steps, her sharp gaze flicking between you and Seungcheol. She had seen you come in and out of this bookstore too many times, always with a heavy heart.

“So,” she said, arms crossing over her chest. “Is this the boy that’s been making you cry?”

You inhaled deeply, forcing a small smile as you shook your head. “All of them do.”

She clicked her tongue, giving Seungcheol a pointed look before patting your shoulder. “Men,” she muttered before walking off, leaving the two of you in tense silence. Seungcheol didn’t speak for a long moment. You knew he was looking at you, but you refused to meet his eyes.

Then, finally, in a quiet voice, he asked, “Did I really make you cry?”

You swallowed, keeping your gaze on the book in your lap. “Why do you care?”

His jaw tensed. “Because I didn’t want to.”

A bitter chuckle slipped out. “That’s funny,” you said, glancing at him now. “Because I remember you saying that I don’t care.”

Seungcheol exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I was angry.”

You nodded slowly, lips pressing together. “So what do you want from me?”

His brows furrowed. “What?”

You turned fully toward him now, frustration bubbling up again. “What do you want, Seungcheol? You say you’ll wait, but for what? You keep coming back even when I push you away. What are you waiting for?”

He stared at you, something flickering behind his eyes. “You.”

You let out a hollow laugh. “You don’t even know me.”

“Yes, I do,” he shot back. “I know you act like you don’t care because you’re afraid. I know you run before anyone gets the chance to hurt you. And I know you like me.”

Your breath hitched.

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping lower. “That’s why you’re trying so hard to convince yourself that I’ll leave.”

You clenched your jaw. “You will.”

Seungcheol exhaled, shaking his head. “I won’t.”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but before you could, another voice interrupted.

“There you are.” You both turned to see Jeonghan standing by the entrance of the bookstore, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face. “I was looking for you.”

Jeonghan’s gaze softened as he looked at you. “Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s go.”

You hesitated, glancing at Seungcheol, whose jaw was now clenched.

Jeonghan sighed, looking between the two of you. “You need space,” he said simply. Then, to Seungcheol, he added, “Give it to her.” Seungcheol didn’t respond immediately. His gaze stayed locked on you, searching, waiting but you didn’t say anything.

Finally, he exhaled and stood. “I’ll wait.”

You hated that those words made your chest tighten. Without another glance, you followed Jeonghan out of the bookstore, leaving Seungcheol behind.

The moment you stepped out of the bookstore, Jeonghan let out a heavy sigh.

“Don’t,” you muttered, already knowing what was coming.

“I didn’t say anything yet,” he shot back, but the look he gave you was enough.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Oh, don’t thank me,” he said, crossing his arms. “Because now I am going to lecture you.”

You groaned. “Jeonghan—”

“No, listen to me.” His tone was sharper than usual, firm in a way that made you stop walking. “You keep doing this thing where you push people away the second they get too close. And I get it, I do. You don’t want to get hurt. But you are the one hurting yourself.”

Your breath caught, but you said nothing.

Jeonghan huffed. “You like him,” he stated, like it was a fact. “And I know you like him because you’re acting like this.”

You scoffed. “That makes no sense.”

He gave you a pointed look. “It does when it’s you.”

You exhaled slowly, looking away. “He’ll leave.”

“And what if he doesn’t?” Jeonghan challenged. “Are you really going to throw this away just because you think he might leave?”

You pressed your lips together. “You don’t understand.”

Jeonghan let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, I do. Because I’ve watched you do this over and over again. And I didn’t say anything before because, honestly? Most of those guys weren’t worth it.”

You frowned. “And you think he is?”

Jeonghan tilted his head. “Don’t you? Look, if you really don’t want him, then fine. Walk away. But if you do want him—even just a little—then stop making it so hard for yourself.”

You swallowed, your throat suddenly tight.

Jeonghan softened, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Just think about it, alright?”

You didn’t respond. You weren’t sure if you could so you just nodded, and Jeonghan let it go. For now.

Come morning the next day. Seungcheol sat across from Jeonghan, arms crossed as he studied him. He had been skeptical from the start—why Jeonghan always knew exactly what to say to you, why you let him in when you pushed everyone else away.

“You know a lot about her,” Seungcheol said, voice laced with suspicion. “More than just a friend would.”

Jeonghan smirked, stirring his coffee lazily. “That’s because we’re not just friends.”

Seungcheol’s grip on his cup tightened slightly. He wasn’t sure why that statement irritated him so much, but it did. “Then what are you?”

Jeonghan glanced up at him, watching his reaction carefully before finally saying it.

“She’s my stepsister.”

“What?”

Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, sighing like this conversation was long overdue. “Her dad left when she was a kid. It was ugly—messed her up. My dad married her mom when we were in our teens, and suddenly, we were family.”

It made sense now. Why you and Jeonghan were inseparable, why he always seemed to understand you in a way no one else did.

“She doesn’t talk about it,” Jeonghan continued, voice quieter now. “Not to anyone. She pretends it doesn’t affect her, but it does. It’s why she is the way she is. Why she pushes people away before they get too close.”

Seungcheol exhaled, leaning back in his seat. “And you’re telling me this because…?”

Jeonghan met his gaze, all traces of amusement gone. “Because if you’re serious about her, you need to know what you’re up against.”

Now, he understood just how much he had to fight for you. Seungcheol stayed quiet, his mind replaying every interaction he’d had with you. The push and pull, the way you shut him out just when he thought he was getting close. Now, it all made sense.

Jeonghan sighed, watching him carefully before speaking again.

“It’s hard to love her less once you get to know her more.”

Seungcheol’s gaze snapped up, meeting Jeonghan’s knowing eyes.

“That’s why she keeps people at arm’s length,” Jeonghan continued. “Because she knows it too. She’s terrified of people staying just long enough to leave.”

Seungcheol exhaled sharply. “And you think I’m just like everyone else?”

Jeonghan smirked, but there was something softer behind it. “I think you’re different. That’s why she’s this scared.”

Seungcheol didn’t sleep much that night.

Jeonghan’s words stayed with him, looping in his mind until he couldn’t ignore them anymore. You weren’t just pushing him away because you wanted to—you were pushing him away because you were scared. Because you expected him to leave.

And if there was one thing Seungcheol hated, it was being predictable.

The next day, he found himself outside your office again, leaning against his car with his arms crossed. He knew your schedule well enough by now, and when he saw you stepping out, he straightened.

You stopped in your tracks the moment you saw him. 

“What are you doing here?” Your voice was flat, but Seungcheol could hear the exhaustion underneath it.

He pushed himself off the car, hands slipping into his pockets. “I needed to see you.”

You exhaled through your nose, already tired of this conversation. “Cheol—”

“No,” he interrupted gently. “This time, just listen.”

Your eyes narrowed, but you didn’t walk away. That was enough for him.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between you. “You asked me what I wanted from you. I didn’t answer then, so I’ll answer now.” His voice was steady, unwavering. “I want you. I want every version of you—the one who glares at me, the one who shuts me out, the one who lets her guard down when she thinks no one’s looking.”

“And then what?”

Seungcheol tilted his head slightly. “Then I keep wanting you. Even when you push me away. Even when you tell yourself you don’t care.”

Your jaw tightened, your emotions warring against your better judgment. “I don’t need saving, Seungcheol.”

“I know,” he said easily. “You never did. But you do need someone who stays.”

Silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words. Seungcheol could see the way your fingers twitched, 

So he softened, just enough. “Jeonghan told me.”

Your breath hitched, and for the first time, Seungcheol saw something other than defiance in your eyes. It was vulnerability, raw and unguarded.

“I don’t pity you,” he said before you could say anything. “I don’t think you’re broken. I just wish you’d let me in.”

You let out a breath, but it wasn’t exasperation this time. It sounded tired. Resigned. “I don’t know how,” you admitted.

Seungcheol gave you a small smile, tilting his head toward his car. “Then let’s figure it out.”

You stared at him for a long moment, trying to convince yourself this was a bad idea. That you should walk away like you always did.

But for the first time in a long time, you didn’t.

Instead, you exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

Seungcheol grinned. “And yet, here you are.”

He opened the car door for you, waiting. And after another beat, you got in.

As Seungcheol got into the driver’s seat, you folded your arms and eyed him suspiciously.

“So?” you prompted.

He glanced at you. “So, what?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What exactly did Jeonghan tell you?”

Seungcheol tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, as if debating how much to say. “Enough.”

You scoffed. “Right. That’s not vague at all.” He smirked but didn’t answer immediately, which only irritated you more.

You shifted in your seat, arms tightening around yourself. “He probably just told you my sob story to make you feel bad.”

He exhaled. “Yeah, he told me about your parents, about how things weren’t easy. But he didn’t say it so I’d pity you.” His voice softened. “He said it so I’d understand you.”

You stared at him, lips parting slightly before you shut them again.

“Jeonghan’s known you for years,” Seungcheol continued. “And he made it pretty damn clear that if I wanted to keep you in my life, I had to stop being an idiot and actually see you.”

You swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “And what do you see?”

Seungcheol’s gaze held yours, steady and unyielding. “Someone who pretends not to care because it’s safer. Someone who pushes people away before they get the chance to leave.”

“But also,” he went on, “someone who cares way more than she lets on. Someone who makes it impossible for people to love her less once they’ve gotten to know her.”

Your head snapped back to him. That was Jeonghan’s exact wording.

Seungcheol’s lips twitched. “Yeah, he said that too.”

You huffed, leaning your head against the window. “He talks too much.”

Seungcheol chuckled, but then his voice dropped, quieter now. “Look, I’m not here because of what Jeonghan told me. I’m here because I don’t want to be just another person you expect to leave.”

You didn’t answer right away. Because you didn’t know how. Instead, you just muttered, “You’re annoying,” under your breath.

Seungcheol smirked. “You’ve mentioned.”

The ride was quiet, but not uncomfortable. He didn’t push you to say anything more, and you weren’t ready to give him any more than you already had.

When he pulled up in front of your building, he put the car in park and turned to you. “So what now?”

You shrugged, gripping the door handle. “I don’t know.”

Seungcheol leaned back against his seat, watching you carefully. “Are you gonna keep avoiding me?”

You hesitated, fingers tightening around the handle. “…No.”

That seemed to amuse him. “That didn’t sound very convincing.”

You sighed, turning to face him properly. “I don’t know how to do this, Seungcheol.”

His expression softened. “Then let’s figure it out together.”

You stared at him, searching for something—any sign that this was some kind of game. But all you found was patience, quiet and unwavering.

You exhaled and looked away. “I should go.”

He nodded, but before you could push the door open, he spoke again. “You never answered my question.”

You frowned. “What question?”

Seungcheol tilted his head, as if debating whether to repeat himself. Then, in a voice much softer than before, he said, “What do you want?”

Your breath hitched because wasn’t that the question you’d been running from this whole time?

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, your heart hammering in your chest. “I don’t know,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Seungcheol studied you for a long moment, then simply nodded. “Okay.”

You blinked. “Okay?”

He smiled slightly. “Okay. You don’t have to know yet.”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “That easy, huh?”

His smile grew. “Not everything has to be a fight, you know.”

“Tell that to my brain.”

Seungcheol chuckled. “I’ll work on it.”

You bit your lip, stealing one last glance at him before finally opening the door. “Good night, Seungcheol.”

“Good night,” he said.

PART TWO COMING SOON

[spread-the-influence]

uh i apologize if this was already asked, i clearly missed it if so but like, how does it work when t.i. infects the other cast members like, pomni described it as like, a good feeling.. is it the same for the others or could it be a bit more painful for each individual person? in what ways did it infect them by like, what feeling?

do you know that strange feeling you get when you are about to fall asleep ? where it feels kind of floaty , or for some people , feels like you're falling ? whatever feeling you get , it is a state between waking and dreaming .

basically , they're not driven to feel something specific per se . it's more they're infected by their feelings being Suppressed , which could be euphoric for some and terrifying for others . they're all being shoved into a pit either way .

why would you want to crawl out , though ? it's warmer in the pit . keep your eyes closed . do not listen to the voice at the back of your head screaming for help . it's okay . you're okay .

[yeyinde]

i love the way you write simon because it’s so realistic and dark. Like yes actually on the inside he’s still a starving scared boy terrified of snakes. Yes he doesn’t know who he is when he looks in the mirror. Yes he’s a machine but he’s also a dog who’s been taught to bite and a long time ago he wished he could stop but now the rabies and the sharpness are integral to him and losing those would mean losing himself 🔥🙏🏻

godddd, you nailed it perfectly. i think he spent so much time wandering around as a hollow, empty shell—filling himself with violence and brutality—that he's not really sure what to do when you pop into his life. all his grief is probs now just stone cold fury. has very little pity to spare.

i really like when big, strong characters secretly hate the "weaker" people they are forced to protect, and that's def Ghost to me. which is why i write the dynamic between him and reader as if he kindaaaa hates you. despises your existence. what you make him feel. what you could do to him. and not in the angsty enemies to lovers thing, but as a "this man still sometimes looms over you and genuinely contemplates what he'll tell Price when he's finished with you" kinda way. but he's not gonna do anything about it because he's selfish and hungry and you feed that emptiness inside of him better than anything else he's ever tried. so. you're stuck with him.

[mental-illness-bingo]

This this this this this 1000x this

The anxiety of making them seem like robots with programmed tasks to perform made me terrified of alter roles at all and I dissociated and shut down when I thought about them - losing me all the benefits of understanding them.

It’s validating to understand why your alters are here and how they can help you, it can even increase communication (that’s how we got to a very high level of communication before we even remembered we knew what DID was - though without the names of the roles - and we can go into that if anyone wants to know) but only use it to the point it is helping you. If that means you avoid roles entirely, okay!! If that means you put high value on knowing them, that’s okay too!! Just do not let it burn you out or make you spiral trying to understand.

And for the record, alters with “no apparent role” or who “do not seem to have a function” absolutely still have a place and are valid. They are doing something, even if it’s completely subconscious or unknown to you.

i wish more of you would understand that alter roles are just common archetypes of ways that alters can present, and not definitive boxes that all of your parts MUST fit into. not every system comes with a set host, persecutor, protector, gatekeeper, etc. and the roles of host, persecutor, protector, gatekeeper, etc. (ie how they operate within your system and what they do) will look different for every system, too.

and, you don't have to know every alter's role. you don't have to immediately understand the exact intricacies over why all of your parts exist and what they're doing to be valid. trying to force your parts to fit into boxes of how they should be instead of trying to understand them as they are does way more harm than good. just saying.