#Does this sentences even make sense...???

[phoenixrisingastro]

Saturn in the Houses: "Discipline, Depravity & the Chains You’ll Never Escape"

Saturn is not soft.

Saturn does not seduce.

Saturn binds. Saturn controls. Saturn twists the knife and makes you beg for mercy.

And in your natal chart, Saturn is where you will suffer the most.

Not just suffer—but be humiliated, punished, and made to crawl through broken glass until you learn the lesson.

Saturn is the Master. You are the Servant.

But if you learn to bow to it?

One day, you might just become the Master yourself.

And if you don’t?

You will remain Saturn’s plaything forever.

Saturn in the 1st House: The Cold Beauty, The Untouchable Force

You were born with a weight on your shoulders. A heaviness that others sense before they even meet you.

There is something forbidding about you. Something that makes people nervous.

You command respect—or you command fear.

You had to grow up too soon. You were not allowed to be weak.

You are hard on yourself—nothing is ever enough, least of all you.

You are unapproachable, untouchable, and impossible to read.

And deep down? You love it.

You love the way they hunger for your approval.

You love the way they can’t get close to you.

Because Saturn in the 1st House means no one owns you.

You are your own Master.

And you will die before you let anyone else take control.

Saturn in the 2nd House: The Slave to Desire, The One Who Will Never Have Enough

No matter how much you earn, you never feel secure.

No matter how much you take, you never feel full.

Saturn in the 2nd House means you were born hungry.

Hungry for wealth, for stability, for something that feels real.

You have known deprivation. You have known loss.

You do not trust that anything will last—because it never has before.

You fight for security with a desperation only the starving can understand.

And here’s the cruel joke:

Even when you have it, you won’t feel safe.

Because Saturn in the 2nd House means the fear never leaves.

You will chase, conquer, and hoard—

But you will never stop feeling like the beggar in the street.

Saturn in the 3rd House: The Silent Observer, The Mastermind

Words are power.

And Saturn has made you master them—or fear them.

Maybe you were the quiet child. The one who watched, listened, and learned.

Maybe you were the one who was never heard, never understood, never believed.

But one day, something changed.

You realized words can build—and words can destroy.

And now?

You do not speak lightly. Every word you say is calculated, deliberate, lethal.

Your silence is a weapon, and when you finally choose to speak? It is a death sentence.

People underestimate you. They think they can outsmart you. They always regret it.

Saturn in the 3rd House makes you dangerous.

Because while they were talking?

You were learning how to manipulate them all.

Saturn in the 4th House: The Haunted, The Child That Was Never Loved

Your childhood was not soft.

Your home was not safe.

Saturn in the 4th House means you grew up knowing that love is conditional, that warmth can be taken away, that security is a lie.

And so now?

You build walls so high no one will ever climb them.

You have learned to never need, never ask, never rely.

You crave love but you do not trust it.

Because Saturn in the 4th House taught you that love is a trap.

So now you let them in just enough to taste you—

And then you leave them starving.

Because you will never need anyone again.

Saturn in the 5th House: The Star That Burned Too Soon, The Pleasure That Comes With Pain

You were meant to shine. But Saturn dimmed your light.

Maybe you were a child prodigy—who was never allowed to just be a child.

Maybe you were creative—but never given the space to explore it.

Maybe you wanted love—but learned that love comes with rules, expectations, punishments.

Now?

You crave adoration, attention, the spotlight—but you do not trust it.

You withhold pleasure from yourself. You make yourself earn every scrap of happiness.

You are afraid of love, because love has always felt like a test you would never pass.

Saturn in the 5th House means you were born to seduce, to create, to captivate.

But first, you have to stop punishing yourself for wanting to be seen.

Saturn in the 6th House: The Body as a Battlefield, The One Who Works Until They Break

You do not stop.

You do not rest.

You do not allow weakness.

Saturn in the 6th House means you are your own oppressor.

You work until exhaustion, demand perfection, push yourself until something snaps.

Your body remembers every slight, every wound, every trauma.

Your mind is a machine that never shuts down.

You believe that if you stop, you will fall apart.

And maybe you will.

Because Saturn in the 6th House means you never learned how to just exist.

You only know how to prove, achieve, and punish yourself for never being enough.

Saturn in the 7th House: The Lover That Was Never Meant to Be Touched

Love was never easy for you.

Because Saturn in the 7th House means love has always been a war.

You attract partners who test you, challenge you, restrict you.

You feel like love is something you have to earn.

You push people away—or they push you away first.

And yet?

You crave devotion.

You want something deep, lasting, unshakable.

But Saturn in the 7th House means love comes at a cost.

And sometimes, the price is your own heart.

Saturn in the 8th House: The One Who Has Known Death & Still Kept Walking

You have lost things most people could never survive.

Saturn in the 8th House means you have stared into the abyss.

And it has stared back.

You have suffered. But you have learned how to use your pain as power.

You have been destroyed. But you have risen again.

You have died a thousand times. But you will never die for good.

Because Saturn in the 8th House means you are a survivor.

A monster, a god, a legend.

And no one—

Not even Saturn itself—

Can take that away from you.

And that is what they will never understand.

Saturn tried to break you.

And you let it.

But it forgot one thing:

You were always meant to be unbreakable.

Saturn in the 9th House: The Seeker That Will Never Arrive

You were born asking too many questions.

You were told to sit down, be quiet, follow the rules.

But you never obeyed.

Because Saturn in the 9th House means you were born to wander—

But you were shackled to a world that was too small for you.

Maybe you had teachers who doubted you, restricted you, mocked your mind.

Maybe your family tried to break your spirit, your dreams, your need for more.

Maybe the world itself has felt like a prison—one you cannot seem to escape.

But here’s the truth Saturn doesn’t want you to know:

You are not meant to stay in one place.

Not physically, not mentally, not spiritually.

Saturn does not want you to leave the tower.

But if you can break its chains, you will see the entire kingdom.

Saturn in the 10th House: The King Without a Crown, The One Who Must Rule or Be Ruled

You were born to be something.

Something powerful, something lasting, something that will be remembered.

But Saturn in the 10th House means you will suffer for it first.

You were not handed success. You had to crawl, fight, and bleed for every inch of it.

You feel like you are never enough, never respected, never seen.

You are your own worst critic—because Saturn has made you believe that if you are not perfect, you are nothing.

And so you push.

And you climb.

And you break yourself against the weight of your own expectations.

Because Saturn in the 10th House does not give power freely.

You must take it.

And one day?

You will.

But only if you can learn to stop punishing yourself for wanting more..

Saturn in the 11th House: The Outsider, The Puppet Master, The One Who Watches From the Shadows

You have always been different.

And the world has always reminded you of it.

Saturn in the 11th House means you do not belong.

Not in groups, not in friendships, not even in the places you once called home.

You are always on the outside looking in.

You do not trust easily—because you have been burned before.

You crave connection, but you refuse to be vulnerable.

And yet?

You understand people better than they understand themselves.

Because Saturn has forced you to watch, learn, and study them from afar.

And now?

You are the one who holds the strings.

You do not belong to the world—

The world belongs to you.

Saturn in the 12th House: The Cursed, The One Who Will Never Be Free

You carry the weight of a thousand past lives.

A thousand regrets.

A thousand ghosts whispering in your ear.

Saturn in the 12th House means your suffering is ancient.

It does not come from this life alone.

It comes from every life before this one.

You feel haunted, isolated, lost in a world that does not understand you.

You have known betrayal, sacrifice, and the kind of pain that cannot be spoken.

You are drowning in a past you cannot remember—but it remembers you.

But here is your choice:

Will you break the cycle?

Or will you become the ghost that haunts another lifetime?

Because Saturn in the 12th House means your suffering is not a punishment—

It is a test.

And if you can pass it?

You will finally be free..

Saturn is the Master.

But you?

You are the one who gets to decide if you will be its prisoner—

Or its god.

© PhoenixRisingAstro, 2025. All rights reserved

[prythiansprincess]

best friend's brother! tom finally gets you alone

NAVIGATION // home. tag. moodboard. more.

author's note: the demons...they're getting loud again. i'm actually so feral for possessive and obsessive tom. I fear I might make this my whole personality now.

obsession. 

tom riddle was, in every sense of the word, obsessive. the fixation and compulsion he poured into the things he loved had always been a marker of his character. tom was not the type of person to casually partake in something; for the eldest riddle brother, the best things in life were worth being consumed by. 

and he was. 

utterly and irrevocably consumed by you. 

y/n, mattheo’s sweet and innocent best friend. the one whose pretty eyes and lovely smile haunted his every waking moment. the one whose honeyed voice played in his head like a melody and enticed him like a siren’s song. the one whose gentle touch sent his heart racing until he felt as though the damned thing was going to burst out of his bloody chest. 

you had no idea what you did to him, but you would soon enough because tom had a plan. for weeks, he had been plotting and scheming. trying to find the right time to finally get you all to himself. 

fortunately for him, the opportunity arose one fateful evening when mattheo left his phone unattended in the living room. it was so easy, almost too easy, to guess his brother’s password and open up his most recent text thread with you. 

mattheo: come over tonight? 

tom watched as three dots appeared on the screen, indicating that you were currently typing a response. 

y/n: will tom be there?

now that was interesting. perhaps you were asking because you wanted him to be there. wanted him as much as he wanted you. 

mattheo: yes. why do you ask?

y/n: I just don't want to be a bother. I know tom likes to study on tuesdays and me coming over would probably disrupt that.

tom couldn’t help but smile. such a thoughtful, caring girl. he couldn’t wait to ruin you. 

mattheo: tom will be fine. so, are you in or not?  i'll grab your favorite snacks. 

y/n: you had me at snacks.

half an hour later, you were standing in the doorway of the riddle home, dressed in one of those pretty little dresses that tom had imagined ripping off of your body a million times. as the door swung open, those innocent eyes widened at the sight of him. you flushed when tom met your gaze, a light pink hue dusting your cheeks. 

"oh. hi, tom. um, is mattheo here? he asked me to come over." 

tom casually leaned against the frame, giving you a once over that only deepened your flush. "my brother just stepped out, but he should be back soon." 

"o—okay. he's probably out getting snacks." 

tom watched as you lingered in the doorway, anxiously fidgeting with the hem of your dress. he thought it was adorable that you were still nervous around him after all this time. biting back a smile, tom opened the door to his home a little wider. 

"are you coming in?" 

“hm?” you asked absentmindedly. “oh. yeah. yes, i’m coming. not like that. I mean, obviously. shit. ignore me please.” 

tom raised a brow, but said nothing as he barely gave you enough of a gap to squeeze through the door. he smirked to himself as you maneuvered your way inside, perky breasts brushing against his solid chest. tom could smell the sweet scent of your strawberry shampoo as you passed through. he wanted to drown himself in it. you timidly avoided his gaze, choosing instead to follow him into the kitchen in silence.

“would you like something to drink?” 

you nodded. “yes, please, i’ll take a —”

before you could finish your sentence, tom handed you a cold can of vanilla cherry soda. your favorite. you thanked him with a shy smile before following him upstairs. instinctively, you turned in the direction of mattheo’s room, but tom gripped your wrist and kept you in place. 

“you can wait in my room if you’d like. mattheo might be a while. he reeked of weed when he left."

you chuckled. “it does take matty forever to pick out snacks when he’s high.” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other before glancing up at tom through your lashes. “are you sure you don’t mind? I wouldn’t want to impose.” 

“i’m sure,” tom confirmed. “I could use the company.” 

with that, you followed tom into his room. unlike mattheo’s, tom’s room was neat and organized. everything was perfect and pristine, much like the man standing before you. tom busied himself by putting away the books and notes on his desk while you fiddled with your fingers, not quite knowing what to do with yourself. 

“sit on the bed,” tom commanded. “make yourself comfortable.” 

“okay.” you replied in a small, breathy voice. 

carefully, you settled at the edge of his bed and crossed your legs. you drummed your fingers against your thigh, pondering how strange this situation was. in all your years of knowing tom, you had never once set foot in his room. at most, you caught glimpses of it when you passed by on your way to mattheo’s room. 

everything was so foreign and interesting. that was the desk where tom does all his studying. that was the closet where he keeps all of his clothes. that was the night stand where he places his glasses on before he goes to sleep. 

that was the bed that he laid in every night. your mind started to wander through all the things that tom had done in this bed. maybe by himself. maybe with someone else. the intrusive thoughts fired off one by one, leaving you flustered. does he soak the sheets when he gets himself off? does he tie his partners to the bed post when he eats them out? does he push their faces into the pillows as he rails them from behind? 

you were so engrossed in your dirty and filthy fantasies that you nearly jumped out of your skin when tom rested a hand on your thigh. 

“hm,” tom hummed. “you’re so jumpy, love.” 

you held your breath as he leaned closer, his face mere inches away from yours. the tension between you ebbed before he carefully took the soda can in your hand and placed it neatly on his nightstand. tom smirked when he noticed the hitch in your breath at his close proximity.

“do I make you nervous, doll?” 

“yes,” you answered truthfully. there was no point in lying. it was written all over your face. “you’re just so…intimidating.” 

“am I?” tom drawled as he slid in beside you, scooting in closer until his thigh was pressed against yours. even through his neatly pressed trousers, you could still feel the heat of his skin on yours. “maybe we just need to get to know each other better.” 

you bit your lip. “i’d like that, tom.” 

“good,” tom drawled. “let’s start with why you think you’d be a bother to me. mattheo told me you were hesitant to come over earlier.” 

you flushed as you stared at your shoes, the curtain of your hair shielding you from tom’s intense gaze. “I know you like your peace and quiet, which mattheo and I probably constantly interrupt. i’m sorry if we’re ever being annoying.” 

“you don’t have to worry about that. you could never bother me,” tom stated in a silky, flirty voice. “the only thing I find annoying is that you’re always with my brother. I just can’t seem to get you alone, can I?” 

you shivered as tom’s gaze flickered down to your lips. “well, we’re alone now.” 

“indeed we are.” you held your breath as tom leaned in closer, the bed dipping under his weight. “you have no idea how long i’ve waited for this. just you and me, without my brother to interrupt. I think about it all the time.” 

tom watched your pupils dilate, reacting to his admission. “what do you think about?” 

“I think about all the things I’d do to you. I think about the way you’d feel, the way you’d sound. if you’d scream or moan or whimper for me.” you shuddered at the sinful confession, rubbing your thighs together as heat rushed to your core. tom’s green gaze felt like a brand against your skin as a predatory look flashed through his handsome face. “I suppose there’s only one way to find out.” 

before you could react, tom’s mouth was on yours. the kiss was neither soft nor gentle, but instead hungry and possessive. the magnitude of his desire took you by surprise. you had always thought that tom viewed you as nothing more than mattheo’s pesky friend, the one that came over unannounced and wreaked havoc in his life, but apparently you couldn’t have been more wrong. 

tom kissed you like a man starved. he poured all of himself into the action, tangling his fingers through your hair, yanking your head backwards so he could kiss you deeper. you could barely keep up with the way he was devouring you, his tongue dominating yours while you moaned softly into his mouth. 

a gasp escaped your lips as tom picked you up and placed you on his lap. you were dizzy with desire as you straddled him, whimpering when tom bucked his hips against yours which caused his erection to rub against your soaked core. never in a million years would you have imagined tom to be this dirty and filthy as he grabbed and groped and gorged himself on you. 

your breathy moans filled the room as tom slid his right hand underneath your dress and squeezed your thigh before palming you through your panties. you melted into his touch, moaning his name softly while he growled in response. as he slid the lace aside, tom kissed your neck and teased your slit with his fingers. 

“you’re soaked, doll.” tom said with a dark chuckle. “do I make you wet, hm?” 

“yes,” you breathed, eyes rolling back as tom spread your slick ever so slowly. 

he seemed to take this as encouragement, taking his time teasing you, rubbing your clit and spreading your folds until you were reduced to nothing but a whimpering mess. 

“tom, please…”

“so needy,” tom murmured. “what is it that you want, love?” 

“I want…” you bit your lip as tom stroked your pussy. “I want your fingers. I want them inside of me. please, tom.” 

“aw, doll, you sound so pretty when you beg,” tom cooed. “don’t worry, I couldn't resist you even if I tried.” 

without warning, tom plunged his fingers into your pussy. you groaned at the stretch, face heating from how vulgar the scene unfolding before you truly was. tom watched with rapt attention as you squirmed and panted, drinking in every little moan and whimper like a fine wine. his fingers felt like magic as they curled and scissored and flicked inside your walls. the other hand that wasn’t playing with your pussy rested on your hip, gripping tightly as you grinded against tom. 

“that’s it, doll. ride my fingers just like that.” 

tom was mesmerized at the sight of you using him to get yourself off. mattheo’s sweet and innocent best friend was no longer sweet and innocent as tom fingered and ruined you like the perfect little slut that you were. his perfect little slut.

“are you going to be a good girl and cum for me?” 

tears streamed down your cheeks as you rode tom’s fingers like your life depended on it. your mascara and lipstick were both smeared, but you didn’t care as you chased after your orgasm. you gave tom a weak nod, half out of your mind with pleasure. 

tom gripped your chin and forced you to look at him. “answer me, doll.” 

“y — yes. i’m going to…oh god, tom!” you writhed as tom rubbed your clit with the heel of his palm, pushing you over the edge. 

the glimmer in your eyes right before you came unleashed something within tom. the flushed cheeks and fluttering lashes; the parted lips and strained scream, it was enough to drive him insane. he wanted to see you make that face over and over again. 

“you look so pretty when you cum, doll.” tom murmured as he bit down on your neck, staking his claim on your skin. “you’re fucking exquisite.” 

amusement danced in his gaze as you shied away from the attention, cheeks flushed from the praise. tom locked eyes with you before sticking his fingers in his mouth and licking them clean in the most obscene and erotic way you had ever witnessed. 

“don’t get all shy now, love. it’s your cum i’m licking off my fingers and i’ll be damned if you ever feel nervous around me again.” 

you chuckled in disbelief. the tom riddle in your head was supposed to be prim and proper, but the real tom was salacious and vulgar; a version of him that was better than what you could have ever imagined. still, despite the heated exchange, tom was surprisingly tender as he helped clean you up. you blushed furiously as he pulled your dress down and kissed your cheek. 

the timing couldn’t have been more perfect because soon after you were situated, the two of you heard footsteps in the hall. you barely had time to compose yourself before mattheo came barging into the room. 

“tom, have you seen my phone?” mattheo paused in surprise when he found you staring back at him. “oh, hi y/n. what are you doing here?” 

“you asked me to come over and hang out, remember?” 

“did I?” mattheo wondered aloud. “I was pretty baked earlier. guess I must have texted you then. well, i’m free now if you want to watch a movie.” 

tom smirked as you shot a bewildered glance at him. “oh, yeah sure.” 

“by the way, what are you doing in tom’s room? is he boring you to death about his coin collection again?” 

you blushed furiously. “no, uh, we were just…tom and I were…” 

“we were discussing the finer points of human anatomy,” tom lied smoothly. his smirk was still perfectly in place as he glanced over at you. “it was a rather…stimulating conversation. was it not, doll?” 

the tips of your ears were bright red as you nodded in place of a response, because you couldn’t trust yourself to speak at the moment.

mattheo rolled his eyes. “well, if you’re done being a weirdo, y/n and I will be in the basement.” 

you fiddled with the hem of your dress, not quite able to meet tom’s eyes. “um, well, I guess I’ll see you later?” 

tom winked behind his brother’s back. “you know where to find me, doll.” 

[noxiatoxia]

Komaeda Nagito, and His Tendency to Use Filler Words

I've talked about this here and there, but I want to make an in-depth post with examples.

So, something that's always bothered me about the Eng release of SDR2 is the fact that Komaeda...does not use filler words as much as he should.

Let me explain.

I'm sure you know words such as "uh" "um" "ah" "er" and suchlike. When you don't know something or are thinking, you tend to say something like, "Um...yeah, so..." or "My, um, appointment is tomorrow."

These words add no "value" to the sentence, and are only placed involuntarily while speaking because you are trying to think as you speak.

Japanese has plenty of these, too. Words like えーと(etto), あの (ano), ううん (uun), ええ (ee), and so forth.

But there's other "filler" words out there. Like our earlier sentence, "Um...yeah, so..." "Um" is not the only filler word. "Yeah, so" is also a filler word, as it adds nothing to the overall sentence. It can be removed.

Really, any word can become a filler word. "You know" and "like" have real applications, but if you, like, start, like, talking like this, it's, you know, kind of repetitive, you know?

I think the vast majority of people on Earth are guilty of speaking like this in their day-to-day lives. It's just easy to do. But when it comes to media, you'll notice characters rarely stutter or repeat words. When they do, even if it's a small amount, it's noticeable because the surrounding context is that nobody else is doing it.

With all this information in mind, let's talk about Komaeda Nagito's dialogue.

実はさ、ボクは入学前に、ネットでみんなの情報を調べてきてるんだよね。

さ(sa), is a normal sentence particle in Japanese. It's used for a myriad of purposes, although many people seem to liken it to the American "Valley Girl" accent when overused, especially with another conversation particle, ね (ne).

It is a misconception that sa is "masculine". It used to be masculine way back, but nowadays it's more or less gender neutral.

This will be the topic of the post. Komaeda tends to use sa and ne in a way that is seen as "filler". These particles can be likened to "you know?" and "like" in the sense that they are real words that serve purposes, but can be repetitive.

In the sentence above, I would say the ne is not being used in a filler-like way. Sa, however, is.

"So, to be honest, before I arrived at this school, I, um, did a little research about everyone on the internet."

In this way, sa, ne, or any other particle when overused (な na is another big one, and I see Souda using it a lot) can be any filler word. Some would argue that the sentence should maybe look more like...

"So, you see, to be honest, before I arrived at this school, I did a little research about everyone on the internet."

And this is equally as correct. It's more in-line with how sa as a particle is normally used, but when translating it as how it's being used here - as a filler word - "um" may sound more appropriate in English. Neither is incorrect however, and there's a myriad of other ways you could go about writing this.

"So, you know, to be honest..."

"So, like, to be honest..."

"...I kind of did a little research..."

"...I, well, did a little research..."

etc.

ううん、いいんだよ。複雑なのはボク自身もそうだからさ。

Here, I wouldn't describe sa as being a filler word...necessarily. It adds emphasis, but it's still completely optional. Thus, I wouldn't translate it as a word imperative to the sentence's meaning.

"No, no, I totally get it. I have pretty mixed feelings about this, too."

最初はね…恐れ多いって断ったんだよ。でも、どうしてもって言われてさ。

Here is an example of him using ne in a filler-like way. You've probably caught on that particles which stand-in as filler are used usually at the beginning of a sentence before a comma or ellipses.

Komaeda actually uses ne in this manner fairly often. One of his default voice lines is "boku wa ne..." - I am unsure how this was recorded in the English dub. Probably just "I..." but personally I'd go with "Well, I..." or "I, uh..."

And unlike earlier, I would say the sa here at the ending is indeed more filler-like (not entirely still, though. Akin to the usage above).

"Um, honestly, at first…I was humbled, but I refused. But, well, they wouldn't stop insisting on it…"

By the way, Komaeda is not putting himself down in this scene. Japanese culture emphasizes being polite in a way Western spaces do not. "I don't deserve it" is a very direct translation, but in English, it makes more sense to read it as "I humbly declined".

And all these examples are just in the first conversation you have with him! You can imagine how many more there are through the whole game.

Now, here's a big question I'm sure you're thinking: "Why was this left out?"

I don't know to be honest, because...they did it with other characters.

Such as Koizumi in the same game:

だってさ、なんだか変なヤツばっかりじゃん。天才だか超高校級だか知らないけどさ…

Although Koizumi suffers from some of the same translation choices made with Komaeda, hers appears to be more consistent.

Finally, we need to talk about Naegi Makoto. He and Komaeda share beyond a voice actor - they talk the same, too. They both use the same self pronoun and you pronoun, use the same script, and also have a habit of using ne and sa in excess...though Naegi maybe does it slightly less.

Also confusing, this sometimes gets translated, like here:

そうそう、こんな危険な学校だしさ、何があるかわからないでしょ？ だから…念の為にさ。

The only reason I can think it only happens sometimes or, in Komaeda's case, not at all, is some translators on the team either didn't feel it was important to include/didn't think about it, while other translators did. Game translation typically has more than one person at the helm. A lack of good management can lead to weird discrepancies like this.

Anyways, that's all I got for now. I hope you find it interesting, because it's one of my absolute favorite character quirks of Komaeda and I am so sad it doesn't get any love in English...

[aziemniak]

For those who somehow missed this gem, yes the polish written Z spam is true and yes "Grzegorz Brzęczyszczykiewicz" still has a fuckton of consonants even if you account for the fact that all of its Z's and the consonants before them are treated as a single phonetic sound, and it does pass as a normal Polish name but the funniest part is. It is actually a fictional name made up by a fictional character specifically to fuck with the nazis (and after the transcriber finally gets that bs down he gets a "Chrząszczyżewoszyce powiat Łękołody" for a place of residence)

But ya'll better strap in 'cause I don't wanna talk about the Z's, their double-consonants or how we eat all those consonants like they're snacks. Those at least are simple, consistent and easy to memorize. You know what's convoluted, makes no sense, and will take you a decade of on-hands experience if you didn't have the luck of being raised with the language? Fucking declensions. Like I get that Polish is neither the exception nor the champion of convoluted grammatical cases but I'm just Very Normal about grammatical cases and how they are nearly absent from English. So, picture this: you've managed to learn the world "woman" and want to use it in a sentence! Is: 1. the woman executing the verb in the sentence? 2. it about the woman in the sentence? 3. the woman subjected to the actions in the sentence? 4. it about the woman in the sentence because for some fucking reason you can have two different cases for most nouns depending on the verb used even though this case's function is so similar to No.2 I can't come up with a better example right now? 5. the verb executed with the woman? 6. the action about the woman? 7. Or are you simply trying to call out to or adress her? And while this is an exhaustive list of cases it is by no means an exhaustive list of supplementary questions (tbf the questions I supplied are pretty ass because analyzing linguistics funtions is hard). Good luck memorizing which verb calls for which declension. Oh and the general declension suffixes change depending on the grammatical gender and whether or not the noun's non-animate, animate or personified. Good luck with that too. You're still not done yet because a lot of nouns just like having exceptions to either the general declension suffix or the word's core. Once again, good. Luck. You have to do this for all nouns, pronouns, adjectives and numbers, by the way. And yes, the natives can all tell if you mess up a single one but they're not gonna bother correcting you because they'd have to interrupt your every other sentence and that's rude (and we like to hear people struggle I guess). And you'd think it's just one of those language quirks that is stupidly convoluted for no reason but no. All of this actually does serve One Particular Function I can think of off the top of my head. All of this is just what it takes for a language to have sentences capable of leaving their grammatical subject at the gas station while also having a word order made of liquid that are perfectly understable and sound entirely natural about 80% of the time.

tumblr: on languages

[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

[torillatavataan]

That's often how it is taught to beginner Finnish learners: kiitos = please

I personally don't think teaching it like this is a good idea, because ultimately kiitos (thank you) is not please even though it functions like please when making a request. I've come across people using kiitos like please incorrectly, too, because they assume it functions the same. Probably because they were just told please in Finnish is kiitos.

No, please, don't do this..! Ei, kiitos, älä tee tätä..!

This is incorrect. Using kiitos here makes absolutely no sense at all. You cannot beg or plead with the word kiitos. (side note: in this kind of sentence we'd probably be more like to use that (sitä) instead of this (tätä) because this (tätä) sounds more like it's referring to something the speaker is doing themselves)

To express please when pleading or begging, we would typically use ole kiltti (be kind).

Ei, ole kiltti, älä tee sitä..! No, be kind, don't do that..!

Please, don't! (Ole) kiltti, älä! (Be) kind, dont!

You can omit ole (be) if you want to and it's clear from the context who is/are being spoken to. This sentence changes depending on who is being addressed.

Ole kiltti, älä! Be kind, don't! (one person)

Olkaa kiltti, älkää! Be kind, don't! (one person, polite form)

Olkaa kilttejä, älkää! Be kind, don't! (multiple people)

Teaching just that kiitos equals please also ignores that using the conditional form is, in my mind at least, more important in making a polite request than kiitos is. Kiitos is just extra unless it's used with a direct command.

Come here, please. Tule tänne, kiitos. Come here, thank you.

Please, be quiet. Ole hiljaa, kiitos. Be quiet, thank you.

Despite these examples including kiitos, they can sound a little stand-offish to me. They are definitely commands, not requests. They don't sound like they'd come off as polite in most contexts. You can fix this by adding a suffix (either -pas or -han) to soften the meaning, thus making them more polite. You would also often add words like kiltti (kind), jooko (yes? right?), nyt (now) to soften them even more.

Come here. Tulepas/tulehan tänne. (Tulepas nyt tänne jooko. Tulehan jooko tänne. Tulepas kiltti tänne.)

Be quiet. Olepas/olehan hiljaa. (Olehan hiljaa nyt. Olepas nyt kiltti hiljaa. Olehan jooko hiljaa nyt.)

Now the English version sounds less polite, lacking the please, but the Finnish versions sound much less harsh, because they are no longer direct commands. Adding kiitos to these examples is unnecessary and adding it can even make them sound sarcastic or aggressive, or make them sound more like direct commands again. A lot depends on the tone of voice of course, but if I saw it just written with kiitos at the end, it would make it sound more like a command or snideness masked as a request to me.

I'm not saying go into the details with beginners, but I think it would be beneficial for even beginners to understand that kiitos and please are not just the same word in different languages, and that please does not exist in Finnish like it does in English (and many other similar languages). The same idea is expressed in other ways, kiitos being a part of it. Like in my original examples ordering coffee above, you don't have to use kiitos at all for the sentence to still be polite. It just adds to the politeness.

I just saw an article like, Finnish people are so rude you’ll recognize one by the fact they never say “please”

I’m sorry, the word “please” doesn’t exist in the Finnish language, we just never got the instinct to use it, we’re not trying to be rude 😭

[i-am-literally-deranged]

I can't stop thinking about Chuuya's fucking room in the Stormbringer manga. It was NOT described as this fucked up in the novel.

This?!?

Is an INSANE evil room.

In the book, it's described as mostly empty, sparesely decorated. There's only a sentence or two dedicated to it. It leaves no impression. But in the MANGA?? We spend several pages in Chuuya's room, and the more I think about it, the worse it gets. I've become completely obsessed with this fucking nightmare chamber Chuuya apparently lives in. Whoever designed this space is a staunch believer in feng shui and also hates Chuuya and wants him to DIE.

First of all, I measured the room using the bed as a ruler, and it's about 18 x 7 feet. That's. That's a hallway. 18 feet long and seven feet wide, that's a fucking hallway. This room is built like a fucking hallway. It also appears to be constructed almost entirely out of some kind of narrow paneling that goes straight from the floor and up the walls seamlessly.

Then the bed facing AWAY from the door?!?? Just floating in the dead center of the room, touching zero walls, head to the door?! That is the most evil room design imaginable. Imagining trying to sleep in Chuuya's evil demon bed is making my skin crawl. No fucking wonder he's having nightmares in this scene.

Secondly

That lamp is not plugged in. It has a cord, so we know it's not wireless or something, but scroll back up to that first image, there is NO CORD coming away from that table. Which it is, by the way. That's a table. Not a desk. There's no storage space, no drawers, no NOTHING. He doesn't even have any loose pens on his desk. There are no pens to be found here, so I guess he's just reading those papers on his table, because he sure isn't working on them. The table is so far away from the wall that if he DID plug in his lamp, it would be stretched out straight and become a tripping hazard. I cannot imagine where he charges his phone, because it's not sitting on the floor next to an outlet anywhere. I just have to assume that he keeps it in the bathroom or something.

These next two shots show us that some uncertain number of the walls in here are MIRRORED. Full body mirrors. I can't even fully process where in the room these are. It looks like he's walking towards either the head or foot of the bed in that first panel, so this IS in the same room. We can also see the narrow vertical paneling on the wall again from the first page, as well as what looks like more ofnthese big full body mirror panels like you'd find in a dance studio.

So not only is Chuuya in an uncomfortable room shaped like a hallway, bed facing away from the door, but he is doing so in a room at least partially WALLED IN MIRRORS. I cannot overstate how fucked that would feel. This is the kind of room I would build in the sims when trying to drive them insane. I'm imagining trying to lay down in this bed in the dark trying to sleep, bed floating in the center of the room, door behind your head, mirrors on any number of the walls around you. What the fuck. What the fuck???

They have so successfully crafted a room that conveys that Chuuya has no idea how to be a person, because what the fuck is this???? Dazai's shipping container is at least arranged in a way that makes sense. That's essentially just a shitty dorm room. Chuuya's room has forced me to ask questions like "Where does he keep his socks and underwear???" And "Does he own a pen?" "Does Chuuya wash his singular cup in the bathroom sink???" The more I look at it, the more questions I have. Is this some kind of.... punishment? Did they put him in this fucked up mirror hell room because they don't like him? Did Chuuya himself design this awful room? I mean, this is the first time he's been in control of his own space so it makes sense that he didn't know what to do with it, but. Fuck. Why did he land on all furniture in the exact center of the room surrounded in mirrors?!?? Did they give him this room minimally furnished, just set the desk and bed in the middle with the idea that he would arrange it how he likes, and he just didn't kniw that that was an option and has been living in it exactly as it was?? This is horrible. I am haunted. I don't think he has any windows. I can't figure out where the vertical strips of light are coming from besides maybe through those weird narrow slats on the wall?? I CANNOT stop overthinking these three pages. He has a mirrored shoe closet AND a mirrored suit closet and nothing else. The suit closet looks like it's the door at the front of the room, but that makes mo sense because then where is the door in and out of the room itself? I can't tell how much of the wall is actually mirrored and how much just looks exactly the same as the other side of the room. Where is his bathroom actually located??? I have been thinking about this fucking room since this manga dropped like two months ago. It haunts me.

[decepti-thots]

☕ i vaguely remember a meta post of yours mentioning that point one percenters were a useless concept and that it also messes up megs' narrative, i'd love to read the full version of that take!

You are remembering this post, which covers the basic reasons I feel like IDW Megatron specifically does not work as a point one percenter!

More broadly, I have two big problems with the concept existing in a general sense. The first one is that it's simply ill-defined in a way where it simultaneously is not clear what it even means and yet that ambiguity is not taken advantage of for storytelling purposes the way that, say, the nebulous idea of what an outlier is gets used. Outliers don't have a clear definition, in the story- but the basic concept of 'some of these robots can do weird superpower shit outside the norm, and they are recognised as being a kind of weird group everyone sort of side-eyes suspiciously' is easy to understand as a reader and by keeping it vague, it can be used to explain quite a wide variety of character abilities without running into too much nitpicky 'hey, but that ability doesn't really match what we know about outliers, so...' stuff. It's also presented pretty value neutrally a lot of the time; Skywarp and Thundercracker aren't like, Special Chosen Ones because they can do a couple weird tricks other characters can't, they're just sort of anomalies with a couple useful abilities up their metaphorical sleeves, yknow.

Compare that to a 'point one percenter'. What is the one-sentence elevator pitch for this concept? That their sparks are... stronger, somehow. (Higher energy? More resilient? Harder to snuff out?) Okay, and what does that mean for the characters, what does that do? Well. Maybe it's why Megatron is Just That Strong, apparently. MTMTE also says this, not being an outlier, is why Minimus can wear external armour without issue- but also it's not like every point one percenter can necessarily do this, so I guess it's different depending on the mech? Or maybe they can all do it and just don't. Who Knows. I guess it's why Overlord survived becoming a phase sixer- but it's not what makes him Just That Strong. But also I guess Megatron could beat him in hand to hand combat at some point. Magnus can't though, and he's ostensibly a point one percenter? Basically, there's never really even that very broad line drawn around what the hell it means or why anyone cares someone has an extra-radioactive green spark.

And I think the point there is that like... most of the fandom just assumes Minimus' ability is being an outlier, right? And for a good reason: a ton of the stuff point one percenters can potentially do is better explained by them simply being outliers! And there we hav a problem. Having these two unrelated groups of mechs that are nebulously Different And Special to explain certain things they can do that other characters can't is just confusing when really, one would realistically do, and the reason I think it's the point one percent concept that ought to go and not the outlier concept is that the latter just raises a lot less questions.

Questions like, you know, hey, why the entire hell does this comic need an objectively measurable way to tell if someone's soul is somehow just inherently kind of "superior by" some metric. That's such a bizarre fucking thing to introduce into a narrative trying to do what MTMTE is doing; if the forged/cold construct divide brings a lot of baggage into MTMTE's themes, the point one percent stuff is just a total albatross around its neck, IMO. All point one percenters have forged souls (even Megatron, that being the twist of EC), and point one percenters are all these big important genuinely Just Plain Better characters like Megatron and Optimus and so on where the reader is clearly supposed to have this feeling of like, 'oh of course those guys are the special ones'.

If there was some attempt to explore how like, being a point one percenter just meant you could lift real good or whatever and wasn't actually meaningful in any other way but became unfairly treated as a sign of greater "superiority" nonetheless, I might see a clearer goal to the concept being introduced; you could maybe do something with "this thing that is actually very small and arbitrary is fluffed up by the powers that be as way more than it actually is". But like... all the named point one percenters we ever see outside a couple cons Megatron made bigshots in the army are genuinely these people who outside just being physically very strong, are on a narrative level understood to be the sorts of characters one might call 'destined for inherent greatness', or something. Right? There's no random nobody never-did-anything-special Lost Light background character who turns out to be a point one percenter who's just Some Guy, or anything. They're all iconic named high command type characters with Epic Fates and shit, lmao.

(Minimus could have been that character, even as a protagonist, because of the conceit of his arc in MTMTE- but they really never manage it with him either, tbh. And again, it really feels like that was much more in line with the outlier concept, and fits better there anyway.)

There's just a lot of 'have your cake and eat it too' with this whole barely-touched plotline in MTMTE, for basically no payoff that couldn't be achieved another way. Where Roberts falters with character writing is IMO when he's writing characters he is kind of precious about due to being a longterm, hardcore fan with nostalgia- you see a lot of that sentimentality at points when he's writing these characters from his childhood like Optimus or Megatron. A sort of elevation of these characters due to their metatextual status as iconic and narratively important that other characters (including, notably, Rodimus) benefit from not being subject to. And the point one percenter idea is, ultimately, a way to try and make that an objective fact in universe, it feels to me. Some of these characters just are better in a special, vague, you-know-why way. But like. MTMTE is a story that wants to talk about how presenting certain kinds of people as Just Better is wrong and cruel, too- and that tension doesn't wind up being used for anything productive. So if there's one single piece of worldbuilding I would fully remove wholesale from the comic, it would probably be this one. More than just being largely narratively irrelevant, it's also genuinely something of a problem for the comic's attempted themes.

[hitlikehammers]

WIP Weekend Wednesday

I was tagged by @hbyrde36, who I have to thank first for the tag, second for the patience in my response, and third for tagging me back into the tag-circle in general. I’ve missed doing this!

MAKE ME WRITE!!!

Rules: Send me an emoji in an ask, and I'll write 3 sentences from that WIP!

💎 Wearing Only This

☀️(not your average) Morning After

🌱 Vague Persephone/Hades Steddie Flangst

🍆Dildo!Husbands Side-Drabble

🍑 Show Your Fucking Feelings Productively, [REDACTED]

🔥 Pocketful of [REDACTED]

😬 Soulmate Words AU (those are their LAST words)

✨ Made of Light—Consneual-Soulmate AU aka FUCK GOOGLE SIDEWAYS WITHOUT LUBE YES STILL

🍿Opposites Attract Complement

🍐 [REDACTED]

🥃Steve’s No Good Very Bad Future-Life

👾 Cozy Monsterfucking

⚡️Steve Gets Stuck Upside Down

🦇 Kas(ish)!Eddie AU (or IdiotSavesIdiotSaveIdiot)

🎸Rockstar Eddie Comes Back to His Stevie (sequel to this)

☕️ Bridgerton AU

❤️‍🩹Kill For You, Die For You, Live For You?

🏒 Hockey AU Selfcare

🎲 Pre-S4 Steddie Soulmates

🪩 Steddie in the Gay Club (sequel to this)

This isn’t even all of them fuck my LIFE

SNIPPET FROM ‘☕️☕️☕️’

Three things occur before everything begins to fall apart.

These three things are not the only things, of course, but they are notable, and easy to isolate and discern where all else lies in a monstrous cacophony of failures and confusions, misconstruation and misstepping, words spoken and swallowed before they could reach the air on all sides with few capable of piercing the ceaseless drum of Eddie’s pulse, his heart sore and tired for more reasons than he could name even if he were keen to try, brave enough to own it in its wholeness, his shameful ruination of all he’d worked and hoped for, of all his dear sister so deserved: all for his own weaknesses.

All for his own lacking.

If there is any sense to what comes in its entirety—Eddie truly doubts the existence of such a sensible through-line at all—but in theory, if it exists, Eddie would not know it, could not hear it.

His pulse does not even see fit to calm in the dark, and give him peace to sleep: thunders on, and on, and on, and—

Three things happen, that he can grasp and name between the rest that swirls relentless like that beat beneath his ribs. Three things.

And they’re each of them marked specifically by the hawk-shrewd eye of one Lady Sinclair.

———

The first, of course, revolves around the ball.

Eddie chafes at the attire demanded by such affairs, but he will not pretend to possess so little vanity as to care nothing for the figure he cuts.

He will very much pretend he is not watching from the corner of his eye for any hint of attention to his aforementioned figure, by one pair of eye in particular.

Said pretending is something he clings to determinedly when those eyes spare him not even a glance as they approach, focused solely at Eddie’s side:

“Miss Christine, might I have your first dance?”

And of course Chrissy is the picture of demurity, reaching her gloved hand for the viscount’s where it’s stretched, offered across Eddie where he stands as if he’s furniture, mere window dressing.

As it should be, he reminds himself. As it should be.

“Certainly, my lord,” she nods and follows and…Eddie cannot deny that they cut a handsome figure. Together.

It is harder to pretend away the manner in which his stomach twists for the sight.

“Have you been enjoying your time alone with the viscount?” Lady Sinclair sidles up to him once Chrissy is on the floor, in the arms of the viscount, as Eddie’s eyes follow them unblinking—

To ensure the well-keeping of his sister. Of course.

He forces himself to turn to Lady Sinclair, to raise a quizzical brow; she can’t…she cannot possibly suspect what he himself will not full acknowledge or fit to a name; she certainly can have no inkling of the morning in the garden, nor the evening the library, she—

“Yesterday’s hunt.”

And now it’s Lady Sinclair raising a brow his direction, as if his hesitation has created its own suspicions.

Gods be damned.

“Oh,” Eddie says, dumbly as possible, sod it all to hell; “yes, it was,” he tries to collect himself, alongside his emotions—tries to fit something genuine into the words, into how he answers, with:

“The sights are most impressive, indeed.”

He surprises himself with just how genuine it comes out; he shakes himself for the probable reasons, in truth, that underpin his honesty.

He’s proud that, at the very least, he doesn’t not feel himself flush for it—no warmer than the room itself, if nothing else.

“Hmm,” Lady Sinclair narrows her gaze at him, a little too curious, a little too shrewd, for more than just a little too long as he feels a prickling sensation beneath his collar, the oddest inkling that he’s being dissected somehow—before she huffs and takes her leave, keeping him in the corner of her eye until someone else catches her attention and Eddie can breathe again, Jesus Christ.

He blesses the breath he’s able to take, if less-than-halfheartedly, given he’s only afforded less than a handful of them at all before a sudden swirl of skirts invades his space accompanied by a familiar giggle and a hand clutched to his arm.

“Lord Harrington has gone to get me a lemonade,” Chrissy flitters to Eddie’s side in haste, leaning in near-conspiratorially, as a song’s final notes echo before the next begins, her presence beside him almost vibratory.

“How thoughtful,” and Eddie does smile, because it is thoughtful, and she looks radiant like this. She was always a diamond, but he suspects this is the real glimmer that caught the royal eye.

“We’ve just finished our second dance,” Chrissy goes on, leaning in and grabbing Eddie’s hands in her excitement as she murmurs lower:

“I’m quite certain he’d not have asked for two without…intentions.”

And Eddie is ever-so-grateful for his warmup lap with Lady Sinclair, because he can speak the next words that come with his whole heart, and section off any other feelings—no matter how much space they’re coming to take, whatever they are—and keep them cordoned away from tainting his joy for his sister.

He does not dwell upon that joy being less than he would like in the first place; less than she deserves.

“I am most pleased to hear it.”

“You must dance with him.”

🫖🫖🫖🫖🫖🫖🫖🫖🫖🫖🫖🫖🫖

No-Pressure Tags: @hbyrde36 @pearynice @madigoround @penny00dreadful @wynnyfryd @oh-stars @thefreakandthehair @sidekick-hero @henderdads @hairstevington

aaaannnd @WhoeverWantsToPlay!

[pain-is-forever]

Theo's known something is wrong for quite some time now. He could almost feel it, the despair, the helplessness, the resignation and pitiful — unwilling, uncomfortable and miserable — acceptance, in the air. He could sense it somewhere, he just had no clue where. That's when he heard a scream in his head.

A scream, Argo's scream. In his head, a terrifying, painful, horrible scream. And it was Argo's voice. Of course it was. Why wouldn't it be? Why would he ever want to receive help from someone in a situation like that? He's so fucking stupid, he should've just let Theo help figure it out- whatever it would take.

No, don't think about Argo like that. He had reasons, you're sure he did. Right, Theo? You know he only wanted to keep you safe. But the method he chose for that is so fucking dumb- stop it. Stop thinking like that. You can scold him for not seeking help after you save him, alright?

He runs through whatever he has to to reach Argo. He can finally pinpoint a location, a glowing red dot in his vision. He's going to do this, and no one will stop him. Nobody, not even Zeus himself can stop Theo from getting to Argo right now. Not Eris, either. There is not a force in the world that can keep him from his brother.

He arrives at the cell, and stops. Horrified. Utterly horrified about Argo's state. His face softens from rage and panic to pure worry. Why didn't Argo want help? He could've helped. Why is Theo always so helpless? He hates it. He hates himself for it.

He wants to speak, to say something. Ask something. Do anything. But his body is frozen in shock and fear. Fear for his brother. What if he loses him? What if this really is the end? Why him? Why does it always have to be him?

Theo starts hitting his leg repeatedly, as if out of instinct. He's not thinking right at the moment, his mind can't formulate a sentence, a word even. The ghosts are silent as well, something that doesn't happen often if at all. He doesn't remember the last time his mind was quiet. It feels... strange. Like he's been floating in an ocean of worries and the voices being absent made him fall off his raft and lose it, so now he's drowning in everything.

The voices were the one constant thing in his life. They helped him cope, even if they weren't very nice... well, aside from Andrea. Obviously they had to leave him to fend for himself in the worst possible moment. In the one instance he needs them the most. He doesn't stop hitting his leg the entire time, it's definitely going to bruise.

He starts sweating, a green tint appearing on his body, eating through his pants where he hits himself. This isn't happening. It can't be. Why is he always the guy who can't keep any relationship stable? Why is he always the one who can't help his friends, who can't keep them safe and happy? Why is the the one to stand idly even when he doesn't want to, why can't he move?

Finally, something snaps within him. Looking at Argo like that, it... makes him furious. Pure unfiltered rage fills his entire being, his face hardening once more. He stops hitting himself, Death Mist already gathering around him. He does nothing to stop it or get it away from him.

He's not angry at Argo, he could never. He's angry at the thing that DARES do this to his brother. And he knows damn well who it is. He's well aware of it, actually. And he's made up his mind about hurting her a long, long time ago. But now? Now he's decided he's going to slaughter her like a pig. Treat her the exact same way she's treated Argo. Give her a taste of her own medicine.

Call it his weird, fucked up definition of justice, he doesn't care. All he knows is that he's going to torture and momentarily kill a goddess. And then he's going to do it again. And again. Until his gods damned death, hell, he's going to haunt her from beyond the grave. He's going to find her in the underworld and find a way to torture her for the rest of eternity for what she's done.

For the first time since they became friends, Argo's safety isn't Theo's main priority. What is it, then? Simple. Hurting the people who hurt his brother. Killing them slowly, making them feel every second of the pain they've caused Argo to feel. See how they like it. He doesn't care if it fucking kills him, he will do it.

He truly is his father's son. Whether it be Commodus or Mr. Kyler Hopens, he doesn't care. All he knows right now is rage. His mortal father was a man quick to anger, and the way he behaved was similar to how Theo feels right now, though he was much quicker to act than Theo is. Commodus on the other hand is... well, not much different, actually. He just doesn't take it out on children.

Theo slowly walks up to the cell's bars, all that's lett of him is a tiny glint of recognition behind his eyes. He won't hurt Argo, no. At least, not on purpose. He feels like he could murder someone right now. He would, if it were anyone other than Argo.

He puts his hands on one of the bars, letting the poison spread across is and eat away at it. He'll melt it and go through there, thanks to his slim build. He'll get in there and end this once and for all. Like he should've long ago.

Once the bar is melted enough for him to just grab at it and toss it to the side, he does exactly that. And he walks into the cell. He doesn't even spare Argo a glance, his eyes fixed on the strings — and the control panel above. That's his main focus. He won't rest until he fixes this situation.

He looks at the wires, and knows what he has to do. He knows exactly what he has to do. He unsheathes his sword and, in swift movements, cuts the strings, as many as he can get with one swing. He manages to get them all with three. Then, he looks up at the ends of them connecting with the control panel.

He puts his sword back into its sheath and grabs the wires, like a rope. He pulls himself up, climbing it, not caring if they'd hurt him or not. If he can't touch them because of them being made out of shadows, he surrounds his body in the Death Mist to help himself interact with them.

°•□Open Starter □•°

I Live Inside You Forever, With Satan Himself By My Side

ANYONE CAN INTERACT

>TW: Unwilling transformation, derealization, loss of bodily autonomy, body mutilization (possibly other things) <

Argo had locked himself in one of the prison cells the moment he felt it start. His wings had somehow.. absorbed back into his body? Making it all the more painful when they burst out again.

Argo lets out a bloodcurdling scream- like millions of souls worth of agony are being channeled through Argo right now.

Argo is wearing a weird outfit; like something an old puppet would wear. Bows. Everywhere. A bow tie, bows on their gloves, and bows on their little socks- and on every individual set of wings.

It would be cute, but the bows sprout into string; tying tightly around their respective areas. Wrists, wings, ankles, neck- and they lead back to an invisible control panel.. somewhere above Argo.

His wings are pure white- but tied back by razored, barbed, wire. So are his facial wings- and the smaller pair of facial wings that sprouted out with the large; actually functional wings.

They make Argo look almost.. angelic- in a biblical way.

Argo looks up, repressing another scream. Their voice already hurts.

They see a person and their face goes deadly pale.

You notice they're missing all their facial scars; like they're wearing a perfect porcelain mask.

The 'mask' which seems to now just be Argo's skin cracks; right where their jawline scar used to be.

Argo tries to move back- but their razor wire restraints prevent that. He almost objects; almost vocalizes- but a stitch comes undone from their neck and that shuts him up really damn quick.

Argo looks like a perfect little angel puppet.

So, what do you do?

taglist (ask to be added or deleted): @orion-the-hunterpt2 @lilacnightshade @pain-is-forever @reyno-solis-real @faceless-bugger @unlicensed-field-medic @the-great-emperor-commodus @the-eclipsed-sun @sophia-hunter-of-artemis @daughter-of-thanatoss

[purple--queen]

What is it with marvel always let their characters falling to their dead???

[mossytrashcan]

is it considered “new” art if I just repost the gideon update that no one liked the first time

[begled]

Ok so yes of course gemma casey haunts the narrative because shes the entire reason it exists in the first place. shes not only in all of outie mark's actions but in everything mark s does as well because without her there is no mark s......... her absence created him. ok yes the viewer is also choking on her ghost there is nothing we can see through mark's eyes that doesnt have a gemma coloured filter Or Whatever Idonteven care its not even it doesnt matter to me affirmations

[noxiatoxia]

i love komaeda tidbits!!! his valley girl dialect adds so much ahhh... do you recall any particularly funny/notable instances of him speaking like that, or times where other characters comment on it?

I wouldn't go as far as to say it is a valley girl-type accent. 1, because that is just the closest approximate to English (obviously the exact same thing doesn't exist in Japanese) and 2, Komaeda does not use sa and ne nearly enough for it to be those levels...well, in my opinion. I'm sure other people could weigh in on what they think.

Either way he's still stumbling over his words a lot, and I do think that's very charming.

I guess you could make the argument that he does have a valley girl accent by proxy of the fact most other characters don't over-use filler particles as much...like I said in the post, people do it all the time in real life, but in media, characters rarely ever stutter or use filler words (unless it's, like, a super tense situation). So the casual usage, even if it is small, stands out. I guess in that way, you can argue Komaeda has a "noticeable" accent in that regard...but that's very much a topic up for debate.

I'm getting side-tricked, lol.

Anyways, while not related to ne or sa, there is another thing I love that's overlooked, and that's how he uses ってば (tte ba)!

Again, this is a very cute detail. It does not happen often, but I can recall 2 instances where he uses it.

Firstly, let me explain. tte ba in the case I'm talking about is a sentence ender used to express frustration, annoyance, urgency, etc. It can kind of sound like whining, but it's the verbal equivalent of stomping your foot.

What's fun is that this word is predominantly used by women. Men use it too of course, but overwhelmingly it just seems to be a word that girls use.

But Komaeda uses it too!

First instance is in the prologue, where he says it to Hanamura.

ちょっと！花村クンってば！

The English translation is perfectly fine. But to go more in depth, as you recall, earlier in the prologue Komaeda told Hanamura to stop pestering Sonia with sexual advances. Here, Hanamura does it again. So, naturally, Komaeda responds...

Come on, Hanamura-kun! I told you to quit it already!

The tte ba added at the end makes Komaeda sound like he's scolding Hanamura and is very exasperated.

Also, while the sentence literally is just "Hey, Hanamura-kun!" with an irritated edge, using prior context and knowing what tte ba means (kind of serving to be like "I already told you this!" sort of thing) we can make the sentence sound better in English.

Next is in chapter 2.

おーい、日向クンってばー！

This one is extra funny, because おーい (usually just おい, oi) is neutral-leaning-male, while as we've said, tte ba is neutral-leaning-female. That's what I love about Komaeda's dialogue: he mixes together "traditionally" male speech patterns and female speech patterns. While, again, not uncommon in real life, anime is so much different. Scripts and word choice are used to tell you about a character's personality. As such, you usually get characters who speak hyper-masculine or hyper-feminine or deliberately ambiguous. I'd say a character who speaks a clean mix of feminine and masculine is very rare. Although, to be more precise, Komaeda speaks masculine and neutral-leaning-feminine...if that makes sense (I will explain later).

Anyways, again, the English translation is good. Komaeda does sound pretty whiny in this scene.

Heeeey! C'mon, Hinata-kuuun!

Now, for the opposite. Something that gets overlooked is an interesting scene in 2.5.

The subtitles has Komaeda as saying "I've heard enough!" but I disagree with this. Komaeda says 黙れよ！in the dub. This is a very masculine turn of phrase because of the imperative nature of it - something Komaeda, to my knowledge, never uses. Very masculine characters do use it often - like Hinata or Oowada or Kuzuryuu - but not Komaeda.

2.5 is complex enough, but this adds a whole new layer to it...Komaeda has never spoke so roughly before. I think it shows just how emotional he truly was in this scene.

I'd translate this line as:

Just shut the fuck up!

And finally...while not canon per se, it is voiced by Megumi Ogata and is very in-character for Komaeda, so I count it. This cute little voice line she recorded for the Danganronpa x Crash Fever on Halloween. It let's me segue into something.

トリック・オア・トリート！お菓子をくれなきゃイタズラしちゃうぞ...なんてね。

Earlier I said Komaeda speaks masculine + neutral-leaning-feminine, and this probably sounds like gibberish to a lot of people because...what does that even mean?

(Keep in mind I'm speaking for the perspective of anime, where these grammar rules carry exaggerated connotations compared to real life! I am also speaking from the perspective of Tokyo dialect aka standard Japanese.)

Komaeda typically uses these particles: sa, ne, yo.

All of these particles are gender-neutral, but ne can be more feminine depending on the context. For example, Saonji uses ne constantly, and so does Mioda. But characters like Hinata and Souda still use ne because again it's context dependent.

There are feminine particles, such as wa, which Komaeda does not use. It is used by characters like Sonia and Celestia and even Kirigiri, which is surprising considering her stoic image (it's very cute).

Then, there's masculine particles, like zo, ze and na. Characters who use zo are Kuzuryuu, Souda, Hinata, and Owari to name a few. Despite Owari being female, she talks very masculine, which adds to her rough image. Ze is also used by all of those characters, as is na.

Komaeda's choice of pronoun is also mild-mannered. Boku is a polite masculine pronoun. It makes sense for him to use it when speaking casually which he is always seen doing. If he used Watashi - also gender neutral (to a point) - while speaking casually, it would make him seem feminine or like a girl.

However, the vast majority of male characters when speaking casually will use Ore, which is a hyper-masculine pronoun. I have lost count of the amount of characters who use this. Only characters I can remember who use Boku (besides Komaeda and Naegi) are Yamada, Hanamura, and Ishimaru.

And for those three, I think it makes sense - they all have this level of acting polite/wanting to be polite or seen as proper.

Which is why the fact Komaeda/Naegi uses it stands out a little bit with the rest of the cast. Makes them appear more mild. opting to use gender-neutral particles only and a mild-mannered male pronoun for your male character tells you a lot about them, especially when almost every other guy in the same series is talking super masculine.

Okay, back to that video. What's cute about it is how Komaeda switches from talking masculine to feminine on purpose.

Trick or Treat! If you don't gimmie some candy...I'mma pull a trick on ya! ...Joking!

I'm unsure how to word this in a way that sounds "masculine" or "feminine" as that doesn't really exist in English I don't think...but the first half of his sentence, Komaeda uses zo at the end to sound threatening/rough, then the last part, nante-ne, sounds feminine when pitched up at the end there. It definitely makes him sound playful.

I also want to point out...though I use masculine/feminine (as what I've talked about are usually employed by men, hence masculine, or women, hence feminine) it is not a matter of being absolute...for example, dresses are seen as being feminine, but that does not mean a man can't wear a dress and still be a man.

Wow, this post got long...I sure do talk. I hope this answers something at least haha. Thank you for the ask!

[fifthseraph]

There is never a moment where part of my mind is not Here

[meowsticmarvels]

the dehumanization and infantilization of the players in squid game makes me insane. they're all assigned numbers and only referred to by staff as that. they aren't people, just numbers. gi-hun says that they treat the players like horses to bet on (and they do!). the trackers in their skin. the way all the games are inspired by games for children; all of the competitors are grown adults. the tracksuits that look like school sportswear. even simple, accidental, human mistakes are punished. they aren't meant to be seen as human. they're just players of a game, in the eyes of the creators.