#I thank you for everything that you have given me.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Besotted 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your new neighbour brings intrigue and a bit of danger.

Characters: ex-con!Bucky Barnes (silverfox)

Note: Friday at last and my house guest is away for a couple days.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Bucky plants his feet as the bike comes to a stop. You look up at the duplex and your insides get all swirly. You're home and still giddy. You've made up your mind. It's now or never.

He shuts off the engine and waits for you to get off first. You hang onto his shoulder for balance as you hop down. He gets off without much effort and heaves a dark sigh. He hesitates and you do too.

"That was awesome, Bucky," you shimmy. 

"Mm," he drones and flinches, moving toward the saddle bag. He unbuckles it and takes out the cookies. "Don't forget these."

You take them reluctantly and he hauls out his bag of groceries. He wraps one arm around it and lets the flap fall open. He faces you as you clutch the box to your chest. Don't let him do it. He can't send you away now.

"Hey, you want... want to try some? I could make us some tea."

His eyes dart to the side then he looks down at the bag. He fidgets and shifts on his feet. He looks at you and his forehead lines. He deflates just a little as you watch him with rounded, hopeful eyes.

"Sure, I should get the yogurt in the fridge though so why don't you come in?" He relents.

You could fist pump and jump in glee. You don't. You're not that lame. You bounce and smile.

"Oh, yay," you grin, "so you got everything set up?"

"Hm, not much. Still got a few things to grab," he grits.

You walk up the steps beside him and stand aside, waiting for him to unlock the door. He keeps the screen door open with his elbow then pauses before he pushes open the inner one. He sniffs.

"Go on, girl," he waves inside.

Huh, what happened to doll?

You enter as if you've discovered some ancient crypt full of treasures meant for the after world. There's a couch and a coffee table, a floor lamp behind the former. The area rug is the only piece of decor to give it any warmth. You try not to be too obvious as you take account of the barren space.

"I might got some tea," he says as he gentle touches your back and slips by. You savour the tingle along your spine.

You take off your boots before you break the threshold of the front room. You tiptoe in as you hear him in the kitchen. He sighs as cupboards open and close.

"It doesn't have to be tea," you call to him. You near the table and examine the motorcycle magazine, a sheet of paper tucked under the cover.

"Good, all I got is beer," he says. 

"Mmm," you turn as he comes close with the bottles.

"Coasters," he says.

"Oh, uh, right," you set the box next to the magazine and take two of the cork coasters from the stack. You place them down and he swiftly clanks the bottles into place.

"I know it's not much but uh, get comfortable," he says.

You pluck up a bottle and sit on the couch. You taste the malty beer. It's not bad. He paces around and nears the window. You watch his back.

You lean forward to set down the bottle and tear the seal on the box. You flip the top and pick out two cookies. You get up and approach him. You stop beside him.

"Try one," you offer.

He exhales and accepts it with a thanks. You nibble and he crunches into his. It's a bit dry by sweet.

You're nervous. You've never been this close in your life. Now you have the prime opportunity. You're in his space. You finish the cookie and smack your lips.

"Dry," you chuckle, "need to wash it down."

"Me too," he says.

He follows you as you go to grab your beer. You drink and sit. He does the same, stiffly, as he takes his beer and swigs. Your eyes stick to him. You watch his throat and the way his chest stretches the fabric of his shirt. You set the beer back on the cork and sidle closer. You're fuzzy all over.

You put your hand on his knee. He flinches and lowers the bottle. He looks at your hand and reaches to set down the beer. His other hand covers yours and he peels it off.

"Look, doll," he squeezes and clears his throat, gently laying your hand in your own lap. "There's things you don't know about me. I think you better just finish and go."

"Bucky, I... it's okay. Whatever it is."

"I'm too old for ya," he puffs. "You're young. Don't do this."

His eyes bore into yours. You pout.

"I might be young but I can make my own choices. So why don't you tell me so I can?"

His cheek twitches, "girl--"

"Please. Don't I deserve to know?"

"I don't know what you're thinking, girl. Alright? Look at us. I'm... I gotta twice your age. And you're... you're too sweet for your own good."

"Tell me," you reach for him again, petting the denim on his thigh. "I won't go until you do. Or you can drag me out."

His eyes flicker and he looks at the window behind you. His jaw squares and he shakes his head. He slaps his hand over yours again but doesn't move it away.

"I'm a criminal. I just got out and I'm tryna rebuild, but I'm not changed. Alright? You understand me," he snarls. "I'm a bad man. I hurt people. Too late for me to change that."

You search his face, "but... you haven't hurt me. And you did your time."

"Girl, don't be foolish."

"No, Bucky, you told me and I don't care. I don't care what you are. I know that you feel this too," you move closer. "Don't you?"

He turns his head and stares at the wall. You squeeze his thigh and get up on your knees. You trail your touch up to his belt and he grunts, stopping you with his thick fingers around your wrist.

"Bucky, please," you beg. "It's just us. Nothing else."

"Girl--" he pleads.

"You're not too old, you're not too bad," you slip free of his grasp and tickle up his shirt, "you're perfect for me, baby."

You bring your hand to his jaw and flutter your fingers along his beard. He shudders and you raise yourself on your knees. You lean in and press your lips to his. He grabs your upper arm but doesn't push you away. He growls as you open your mouth and slide your tongue along his lips.

His hand slides away from your arm and to your back, crawling to the back of your neck. You brace his shoulder and swing your leg across him, straddling his lap as you deepen the kiss. He groans as you hook an arm around his neck and snare him. You rock him slightly as you breathe into him, tilting your pelvis against him. 

He grips your hip with his other hand and parts from your mouth. His eyes are cloudy as he gazes up at you. The tension is his cheek pulses.

"Doll," he shakes his head, "one last chance..."

"I got condoms," you say as you sit back and reach to your cross body bag, still resting against your side.

He shivers and slackens against the couch. "You're too much."

"I know what I want," you assure him.

He stares at you and his lashes flick, He grabs the strap of your cross body bag and unhooks it from around you. He puts it on the cushion and gulps. He frames your face with his hands, his thumbs rubbing your cheekbones. He sighs. 

You reach up to curl your fingers under the straps of your tanks top and drag them down your arms. You feel him beneath you. He's hard already. You're soaking through your panties, not that there's much to them.

You push down the sheath of your top to your waist. He inhales sharply and you reach back, your chest bulging as you tug at the band of your bra. You unhook it and quickly drop it down to your wrists. Your tits pop free and jiggle as you toss your bra.

He blinks at your chest. He just sits there, paralysed. You giggle and grab his hands, putting them on your tits, making him squeeze them. He purrs and rolls his hips.

"Doll, you're... you're..." He gropes you then slips his hands down to lift your tits. He leans forward and nuzzles your flesh, pushing your chest around his face as he snarls. You got him. There's no going back.

You arch your back and cling to his head, urging him on. He nips and teethes at you, tracing your nipple with his thumb before popping it between his lips. He hums and swirls his tongue around the hard bud. It must have been a while for him, having been in jail. That sends another thrill through you.

You twine your fingers into his hair and grazes his scalp with your nails. He snarls as he continues to bounce your tits, squeezing and pawing. You never cared much for the extra weight, but now that he's drowning in them, you can't complain.

You lip your hand down between your bodies and feel along the front of his jeans. He groans and wriggles against your touch. He's rock-hard. He hisses as he pulls away and drops back against the couch heavily.

"Doll," he tenses up.

You giggle and tug at the bottom of his shirt. You push it up his stomach and over his broad chest. You mess his hair as you swoop it past his head and drop it over the back of the couch.

Now it's your turn. You flatten your hands across his pecs and moan. He growls and you drag your nails lightly down his skin, the soft hair contrasting against hard muscle. His stomach is cushier but not in a bad way.

"Baby, you got me struggling," he groans and rubs your thighs, his pelvis tilting desperately.

"Me too," you breathe.

You linger at the top of his jeans then back off of him carefully. His eyes widen. You see fear in him. You grin and turn to wiggle your ass as him. You hook your fingers inside your leggings and bend as you push them down. Your thong rides up between your cheeks. He hums as the couch springs whine beneath him.

You shiver as your nerves flurry in your chest. This is it. So close. You're throbbing. You can see the slickness in your leggings as you step out of them.

"How... why do you want me, doll? You're... you're gorgeous," he rasps.

You stand and face him again. You shake your chest at him and he brings his fist up to bite his knuckle. You feel powerful.

You slink closer to him and touch the front of your bejeweled thong, a little heart on black. "Can I keep these on?"

"Yes," he croaks and clears his throat, "yes, doll."

You grin and grab your bag. You unzip the front pocket and slide free the strip of condoms. It unfurls and you laugh. "Oops... think we'll need them all?"

He startles you as he swipes up the end and tears one off, "we'll see."

You drop the rest beside your bag and blink at him. You sense something different. He tears open his pants and raises himself off the cushion as he shoves the denim down. His dick bobs above the elastic of his briefs, the head swollen and weeping. You get even wetter as you see the veins bulging under the skin.

He rips the wrapper with his teeth. He trembles as he presses the rubber to his tip and you near him, wavering as you weigh the moment. This is your last day a virgin. You take a silent breath and lean forward to grab his shoulders. He quakes and moans as he slides the condom down his length.

You bring yourself over his lap, hovering above him as he grips himself. He frames your hip and hisses, "doll, please, please, I need you on me. I need--"

You reach down and wrap your fingers above his. He lets go and gasps. You angle his tip along your cunt and push your panties aside. You stare down at him. Your eyes cling to his and you bite your lip.

You dip down carefully. As you open around him, you grunt. You sink your nails into his trap and your eyes speckle with tears. Oh, it hurts more than you expect.

He taps your hip, "stop," he snarls.

You bat your lashes but obey, "I can take it--"

"Come on," he feels along your side. He loops his arm around you and in an instant, he has your back to the cushion. He slips out of you. 

He fishes out your bag from beneath you and sweeps it onto the floor. He knees on the other end of the couch and urges you further up. You drag yourself until your head is against the armrest. 

He bends between your knees and kneads your thighs, his eyes on your cunt. He licks his lips before he plunges in. You yipe in surprise as he laps at you, his beard tickling your lips as he pushes your legs wider.

He flicks his tongue around and across your clit. You spasm and clasp onto his hair as the sensations stir within like flames. Your thighs clench and your spine stiffen. You pout and gulp loudly as he toys with you, suckling and swiping as you squirm.

He growls into you and traces a finger along your ass up to your entrance. He spreads the wetness there before he delves inside. He pushes his finger in bit by bit then draws it back out. He adds another and urges inside even deeper.

His tongue teases you to the edge as he pushes in and out of your cunt. He hums and drinks you up, spreading his tongue as wide as he can to taste all over you. He seals his lips once more around your clit and the pressure pinpoints, pulsing faster and faster until your muscles release.

There's a sudden surge and a hot flow coursing from you, dripping down his fingers. You convulse and whimper as you wash away with your orgasm.

He kisses your cunt before he sits up. You watch him, bleary-eyed, and he wipes the glisten from his beard with a hum. He inhales so his chest puffs out and he cracks his neck.

"If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it right," he growls.

[shanastoryteller]

SHANA HAVE YOU SEEN ARCANE? IF NOT GO DO THAT AND JOIN ME IN MY INSANITY WITH JAYVIK. Otherwise its dealers choice and some happy valentines chocolates for you 💕💋

Castiel has gone rogue, has torn down the wall keeping the cage at bay, and Dean is going to have to face him alone if Sam can’t figure out how to get out of his own head.

Absorbing the memories of what he’d done when he’d been soulless had hurt. To know that any version of him was capable of that kind of callousness, of the kind of ruthless efficiency he’d always turned up his nose at, was a blow.

But absorbing the memories of the cage may very well kill him. Everyone seems to expect it to, if it doesn’t drive him outright insane. It’s likely the most he can hope for is that it leaves him cationic, that he stays in this safe little place in his mind that Lucifer can’t touch and leave the rest of the world to rot. He already destroyed himself to save it once, why should he have to go through that again?

For the same reason he did it the first time.

The world still has Dean in it. He can’t leave his brother to suffer if there’s anything he can do about it.

When he finds across the version of himself that knows the cage, he has to clamp down on the urge to tremble. He’s standing there, half hidden in shadow, leaning against the wall like he can’t hold up his own weight.

He’s covered head to toe in blood.

“Hey,” he says then swallows. Soulless had been aggressive, had been angry, hadn’t hesitated to engage with him. Cage seems like he can barely keep breathing.

It’ll make him easy to kill, easy to reintegrate, but he doesn’t know what that will leave him as when he’s done.

Just killing the guy after everything he’s been though doesn’t seem right. He licks his lips. “Look, I don’t know how aware you are of everything that’s going on, but I – we – I mean.” He swallows. “Dean’s in trouble and I can’t help him without remembering. Everything. And I know I’m not strong enough to deal with everything you’ve delt with-”

“Why do you say that?”

Sam startled. Cage’s voice is raspy, but not weak. There’s no fear, no tears, just simple curiosity. “I – what?”

“Why do you say that?” Cage repeats.

���I,” he thinks back on Soulless’s memories, of how he’d been on board with getting his soul back up until he’d found out what it would do to him, of how they’d described the tattered remains of who he used to be. “They said it would destroy me. You don’t – you don’t look to be in great shape.”

Cage shrugs. “People have always underestimated us, Sam. You know that. They didn’t think we’d be able to take control of Lucifer and we did that.”

“What?” he laughs incredulously. “It was just a hunky dory time in there with Lucifer? You look like shit.”

“And you think Lucifer did this to us?” Cage smiles, Sam can see the white of his teeth against his blood covered face. It should be disturbing, a sign of a cracked mind, a cracked soul, but it just looks like a normal smile. “You know us. You know us better than I do at this point. When have we ever stopped fighting?”

“We fought the devil,” he says flatly. “In the cage.”

“Do you know what powers angel’s grace? Demon’s abilities?” he asks.

Sam shakes his head.

“Human souls,” he says. “It’s the greatest source of power on any of the three planes. And if you know Enochian, you can harness that same power. It took a while, but eventually we learned.” He tilts his head to the side. “I won’t lie, Sam. Lucifer put us through things that no person should experience, a type of hell that broke us more than once. But we were in that cage a long, long time. Souls heal. Grace disconnected from heaven just runs out. I’m thankful to be out, but given a few more centuries, well. Lucifer wouldn’t just be in the cage. He’d be gone.”

Sam doesn’t understand, doesn’t believe it. “So you used your own soul to fight the devil? With the angel’s language? That’s–”

“What did we have to lose?” Cage interrupts. “Michael and Lucifer distracted each other occasionally, and Michael keeps Adam unaware. All we had was fighting and surviving. If we could kill Lucifer for good, what did it matter what state it left our soul in?”

“Then why hide?” he challenges. “Death and Castiel put you away. Why hide even now? If it’s not that bad, why let yourself be walled away?”

“It is that bad,” Cage says softly. “You’re just that strong.”

Sam swallows.

He used to believe that about himself.

“I’ve spent centuries in the cage,” he says. “Some days I barely remember life on Earth. I’ve changed. I had no reason not to.” He looks away for the first time. “I did it for Dean. I never forgot that. And Dean got me out, he saved me, but,” he meets Sam’s eyes. “I remember what it was like to have Dean look at me like he didn’t recognize me. I didn’t want to go through that again. You, he knew. You, he recognized. I thought it was better. You didn’t need the person you became in the cage once we were out of it and I wanted,” he cuts himself off again.

It's okay.

Sam knows.

“You wanted to be someone Dean would be willing to sell his soul for,” Sam says.

He’d never wanted what Dean did, but he’s always felt crushed under the weight of being worthy of it, of the loss and fear when he felt he wasn’t. It’s such a fucked up metric to measure love against, if someone would be willing to go to hell for you, but Dean’s the one who set it. He’s just following suit.

He’d do anything for Dean.

“Dean needs our help,” Sam says. “Castiel-”

“I know,” Cage says. “Even a juiced up Cas isn’t Lucifer. We’ll be able to take care of him. You need to know what I know and there’s no way to teach you Enochian without everything you had to go through to learn it. I’m sorry.”

“We’ve got a year of fresh memories,” he says. “A year of our life on earth front and center. It’ll help. They won’t feel so far away from us after.”

Dean will still love them after.

“You hope,” Cage scoffs.

Sam smiles and lifts a shoulder in a half shrug. “Yeah. It’s all we’ve ever had, right?”

Cage smiles again, pushing off the wall to stumble forward. Sam catches him when his knees buckle, looking into his own face, his own eyes. They are different. But not unfamiliar.

Souls heal. Whatever Lucifer did to him, whatever he did to himself in there, it’s not irreversible. There’s a difference between scarred and bleeding.

“You’re going to be okay,” Cage says, offering him a knife that Sam hadn’t even noticed him carrying. “You can do this.”

Sam swallows, giving a nod before taking the hilt and plunging it into Cage’s chest. He holds him through it, hearing the wet gasp against his hear. “Yes,” he says softly. “We can.”

When he opens his eyes in the panic room, all versions of him settled into one, into just Sam, he doesn’t waste time mourning the people he used to be.

Dean needs him.

[akanemnon]

Good day, Akane. There's been a question that has been stuck in my head for quite some times. It comes and goes in my memory, but this time I finally grabbed hold of it.

Though the final QnA has been closed forever, still, because you still left your inbox open in which in thankful for, and us fans are seeming to near a turning point in your epic Undertale/Deltarune crossover comic known as TwinRunes, I fell as I have reached an aproprite time to ask this:

Say in an alternate universe where TwinRunes never happened. The first page was received how it was supposed to be: one and done, so you went to go work on and make Lost in the Inbetween instead. Where do you think you'd be now?

Well... first and foremost; The Other Script/Lost in the In-Between wouldn't exist in the form it does now.

I started working on Twin Runes when I was mayyyybe writing the Waterfall part of TOS (abbreviating it to save time). The characters would be different, and the story would be as well. Frisk, for example, wouldn't be such a snarky little shit like they are now. They would've behaved much closer like they do in Twin Runes. In fact that is something I HAVE changed througout writing the script. They were behaving way too nice for someone who unlike the Frisk in Twin Runes, remembers everything they have done.

One story wouldn't exist without the other. Not only that, but without Twin Runes, I wouldn't have met people who have given me pointers and constructive criticism to make them both the best they can be.

If I know myself well enough (and I do), then I'd say without Twin Runes, TOS would've been another abandoned project. In a hypothetical setting it would've either never made it past the scripting phase OR it would've been abandoned somewhere at the beginning of the story. Twin Runes IS a way for me to test the waters after all, and figure out how making a comic works. Also as an exercise to keep at it.

[alwayssassydreamer]

Good Things Go

A/N: dearest Anna I hope you're happy now because this gave me a lot of headaches 😅, got a little longer than planned

Song Prompt Challenge

Say I hate you when I don't Push you when you get too close Only you can save me from my lack of self-control And I won't make excuses for the pain I caused us both So thank you for always standing by me even though Sometimes bad things take the place where good things go

Summary: you've been working for Crocodile for years now and became his most loyal agent though your recklessness during missions often leads to arguments, things get even more complicated when you realize you've fallen for your boss

Warnings: tension, but actually i don't know what to put here, kissing

Characters: Sir Crocodile x GnReader

Crocodile sat behind his desk, his golden hook resting casually against the edge, his cold eyes studying the papers in front of him. The air was thick with tension, as it always was when you were in the room with him.

He was erratic, not the calm, controlled demeanor you were used to seeing. He was angry, frustrated, and you knew you were at the center of it all.

You had been his loyal agent for years, weathering every storm by his side, even when he pushed you to your limits. But this time, it was different. The unspoken feelings that had lingered between you both for so long had come to the surface, and they were threatening to destroy everything.

You had seen it all—the times he pushed you away, the cruel words that had been spat in your direction. But each time, you stood your ground, never backing down, never leaving. You had always been his, always kept your loyalty intact, no matter the cost. You had been by his side through countless missions, through moments where you both bled, fought, and schemed together.

You never backed down from a challenge, never hesitated when given an order, even if it meant risking your life. But lately, things had felt different. You had begun to notice the sharpness in Crocodile's gaze when it landed on you, the brief moments where his usually composed demeanor cracked, revealing something darker and it unsettled you.

You stood across from him arms crossed, waiting for him to scold or lecture you again. You’d just returned from a mission, and as usual, you had some… differences of opinion regarding the execution of his orders.

"That wasn’t the plan," Crocodile muttered, his voice low but laced with frustration. His eyes narrowed as he glanced up at you. "You’re always improvising, always pushing my limits."

You straightened up, uncrossing your arms with a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "It worked, didn’t it?" you replied, your voice calm but with a sharp edge. "Sometimes a little improvisation is necessary, boss. You can’t always follow the script."

His lips curled into a sneer, his eyes flicking over you in a way that sent an unsettling twinge of awareness through your chest.

He didn’t like your unpredictability. He never had. And yet, despite the clash of personalities, you had remained his most loyal agent. You were good at what you did, and he knew it.

He had never said it aloud, but you could feel the weight of his expectation and his distaste for your constant push against his authority.

He leaned forward, his golden hook tapping rhythmically against the wood of his desk. His gaze was sharp, piercing through you as if he could see straight into your thoughts. "You think you’re untouchable, don’t you?"

You didn’t flinch. "I think I’ve proven that I’m capable. That’s why you keep me around, boss."

His eyes darkened, and for a brief moment, there was something in them - something deeper, more dangerous. "Don’t mistake my tolerance for fondness," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I don’t have room for attachments."

You raised an eyebrow, stepping forward slightly, your heart pounding in your chest. You weren’t afraid of him at least, you didn’t let it show. "Is that so? Because I’m loyal to you, Crocodile. That’s something you can’t seem to shake off, no matter how many times you try to push me away."

For a moment, the silence between you both was palpable, heavy with unspoken words. Crocodile’s jaw clenched, his fingers twitching as if to reach for something, something that would silence you.

But he didn’t. Instead, he stood up slowly, towering over you with his usual imposing presence.

"Is that what you think?" he murmured, taking a step toward you. "That I want your loyalty?"

You met his gaze, unflinching. "It doesn’t matter whether you want it or not. I’m here, and I always will be."

His lip curled into a bitter smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "You’re a fool."

You weren’t the type to back down. Not from anyone, especially not from him. "I’m no fool, boss. You’ve pushed me to my limits, time and time again. But I stay because I know what we have is more than just loyalty."

His expression hardened at your words. He was silent for a long moment, his eyes never leaving yours. And just when you thought he would walk away, dismissing you as he always did, something shifted in his demeanor. His hand reached out - too quickly, too harshly - and grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you closer.

"You think I don’t know what you feel?" he hissed, his voice laced with both anger and something else - something you couldn’t quite place. His grip on your wrist tightened as he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. "You think I don’t know about the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention? The way you linger just a little too long? The way you care too much?"

Your heart raced. He was right. You had tried to hide it, tried to bury the feelings that had grown inside you. feelings that had no place in this world you had chosen to live in. But Crocodile, for all his faults, always saw through you. His sharp mind never missed a thing, not even your most carefully guarded emotions.

"Don’t," you whispered, your voice a little shakier than you intended. "Don’t pretend like you don’t care."

For the first time, you saw it a flash of something unreadable in his eyes. It was fleeting, but it was there: the barest hint of vulnerability, quickly masked by the cold indifference that was so characteristic for him. He let go of your wrist and took a step back.

"You think I need you, don’t you?" His voice was colder than ever, as if he were trying to convince himself. "You think that because you’ve stuck around, because you’ve followed orders, that I’m... attached to you."

You didn’t answer him right away, letting the silence linger between you two. Your feelings were complicated, too complicated for words, but it didn’t matter. You had already known, deep down, that he’d never admit to it, and maybe never would you. But you were his. And no matter how far he pushed, no matter how many times he tried to reject you, you wouldn’t leave.

"I don’t need your acknowledgment," you said quietly, your voice steady. "But I won’t abandon you. Not when it matters most."

Crocodile’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a dark smirk. "You really are a stubborn one."

You smirked back, your gaze never leaving his. "You should know by now, I don’t back down. You always push me away, Crocodile. You tell me you hate me, but it's all just a shield, isn't it? You say things you don’t mean, and I’m the fool who keeps standing by you."

Crocodile’s gaze softened for just a moment, but the harshness quickly returned. He stepped closer again, his voice low and threatening. "I push you because it’s easier than admitting that you’ve somehow become the one thing I can’t control. I push you because I can’t stand the thought of you seeing me as anything more than the monster I’ve become."

Your heart skipped a beat. You had never heard him speak like this before. Never seen this raw, vulnerable side of him. It both terrified you and made you want to reach out to him, to pull him from the darkness he was drowning in.

His golden hook glinted in the dim light, but it was his eyes that held you captive. There was a desperation in them, something that made your pulse quicken, something you hadn’t expected to see.

"I say I hate you when I don’t," he murmured, his voice hoarse, almost pleading. "I push you when you get too close. But the truth is… only you can save me from my lack of self-control. And I won’t make excuses for the pain I caused us both."

The words hung in the air like an unsung confession, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. Everything that had been left unsaid between you both was finally spilling out, raw and unfiltered. You could see it now - the darkness that had clouded his heart, the fear of being loved, of being wanted, of being needed.

You felt a lump form in your throat, your emotions a tangled mess of longing, frustration, and something deeper

"I stayed," you whispered, your voice barely audible, but strong with the weight of your emotions. "I stayed, not because you need me, but because I need you. And maybe that’s what hurts the most."

For a moment, the harshness between you vanished, replaced by something quieter, more fragile. "I’ve always known," he said quietly, his gaze never leaving yours

You stepped closer, closing the distance between you, your voice soft but unwavering. "Sometimes bad things take the place where good things go," you whispered, your words carrying the weight of everything you had both been through

He moved his hook closer and gently lifted your chin with it uncharacteristically careful not to hurt you. "Thank you," he said, the words strained, as though forcing them past years of hardened pride. "For always standing by me… even when I gave you every reason to leave."

Your breath hitched at the sincerity buried beneath the rough edges of his voice. You had never expected him out of all people to show you such a.....vulnerability.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as he removed his hook from you. "You made it hard, you know that? Pushing me away like I was poison. Acting like I was nothing but a pawn when you damn well knew what I feel for you."

He didn’t flinch at your words. Instead, he nodded, as though agreeing with every accusation you hurled.

Your fingers curled into his coat, pulling him down to meet your gaze. "You’re an insufferable bastard, Crocodile," you murmured, your voice thick with the ache of everything you had endured. "But I stayed. Not because I’m weak, but because I chose to. I choose you—flaws, scars, and all."

"I won’t promise I’ll change," he admitted, his voice low but steady. "I’m still the same ruthless man who’ll destroy anything that stands in my way ."

"I don’t need you to change," you whispered fiercely. "Just let me stand by you. Let me fight beside you, not against you."

You tilted your head slightly, your voice soft but challenging. "What now, boss? Going to push me away again?"

His lips quirked into a dangerous smirk, one that sent a shiver down your spine. "Not this time," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "I’ve had enough of that game."

Before you could respond, his mouth was on yours, hot, demanding, and unapologetic. The kiss was fierce, a raw clash of wills as much as it was a surrender. He tasted of smoke and danger, a combination that had always drawn you in, even when you knew better.

You matched his intensity, your hands fisting in the fabric of his coat as you pulled him closer. The years of unresolved tension ignited between you, burning away every doubt and hesitation. His hook pressed lightly against your back, the cold metal a stark reminder of just who you were tangling with - a ruthless, dangerous man who had somehow become the center of your world.

Crocodile’s free hand slid down to your waist, gripping you possessively as if staking his claim. His control, usually so unyielding, seemed to fray at the edges as he deepened the kiss, his breath ragged against your lips. You gasped when he pulled back slightly, just enough to speak, his voice full of desire.

"You drive me insane," he growled, his forehead pressing against yours. "Always have."

A breathless laugh escaped you, your heart racing. "Good. Otherwise things would be boring and you know that I don't do boring." You teased.

"You're mine," he declared, his voice rough but resolute. "And I'll destroy anyone who tries to take you from me."

A thrill shot through you at the possessiveness in his tone. But you weren’t intimidated, you never had been. Instead, you met his gaze with unwavering confidence. "Damn right I am. And you're mine, you handsome bastard. Don't forget that."

His low chuckle sent a shiver down your spine. "You really are trouble," he murmured, before capturing your lips again in another searing kiss.

[joeyalohadream]

Ooo gimme combat fatigue!! (Welcome back babe)

❤️Thanks, love!

I've touched on this one before once or twice but I've had this one kicking around in my docs for a looooong time. And I really do want to get back into writing it some day.

The plot in this one is that while John is in England before the rest of the 100th arrives, he attends a briefing given by a Doctor that runs one of the 'Flak Houses' to teach leadership how to recognize the signs of Combat Fatigue in there men.

And as John sits in this briefing, attentive and eager to learn how to be helpful to his men, he starts getting an unsettling feeling as the emotional, cognitive and physical signs are described in detail because he can think back to moments where Gale has already exhibited many of these signs in the years he's known him.

He's always known Gale doesn't talk about his life before joining up, outside of some basic surface-level facts, but he realizes that he's missed something big.

I'm pretty sure I've posted this snippet before but I don't tag my things with any kind of organization in mind and the thought of digging through my own blog gives me a tummy ache. So I'll just repost it here.

“I told you all about my ma, my sisters.” “Well, I haven’t had a mom since I was a boy, and I don’t have any siblings.” Frustration is starting to leak into Gale’s tone and Bucky considers backing off the conversation and just enjoying the bliss of their first post-reunion tryst. Gale is still sweaty and sated, resting on his chest and it would be easy to let it go. But his mind has been tangled up about this for weeks and he can’t bring himself to give up so easily. “Tell me about your dad then,” he runs his fingers down Gale’s spine, fingers gliding easily over the sweat slick skin. He feels Gale tense against him. “No.” Bucky tries not to feel hurt by the finality in his tone. Tries not to take it personally that the person he wants to tell everything, won’t tell him anything. “Why?” “Why won’t you tell me what it was like up there?” He grits his teeth and imagines he can taste the copper in the air, hear the whimpers of the injured navigator, feel the terror of anticipating he’s about to be hit, about to be dead. “That’s not the same thing, Buck.” “What if it is?”

[thenerdybard]

Help us escape from Gaza and find a safe haven, I am ahmed ,we have lost everything, our home, our work and some of our loved ones, my only dream and hope is to save my family and find a safer place, please donate and share, every bit of help brings us closer to hope and finding a decent life, your donation is the key to hope for those who have lost everything, thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything you have given to me and my family and I wish you happiness and a beautiful life 🌹🙏

£12,047/30,000 raised so far let's keep this going!

Vetted

Donation link

[the-lazyyy-artist]

Ok so this is my first time ever doing an ask so if I’m doing this wrong PLEASE tell me. Anyways I wanted to ask for some Oliver Aiku angst. Specifically where we’re married and he’s been cheating but he’s done a weirdly good job at hiding it. But then we find out and leave him. And if you could PLEASE make it in Oliver’s POV for extra male groveling. Now again this is my first time doing an ask so if I come off as demanding or just not detailed enough please forgive me. 🤕😭🫶🏼🤕

moral of the story oliver aiku x gn!reader

Synopsis: Oliver Aiku had everything: fame, the best career, and the love of his life... but sometimes, the snake slithers into the garden of Eden to poison everything.

Tags and Themes: angst, cheating, divorce, established relationship, marriage, people asking stupid questions, aiku's human condition biting him in the ass, ooc lmao, ubers team mentioned eheh

Author's notes: Hello, sweetpea! Oh, this took me a while to write, and you're my first ever request for a drabble! haha! Thank you so much for dropping this request! I wrote it as well as I could. I drew inspiration from stories I heard from that one Reddit story that Smosh read. I forgot which episode, but I will link it here if I find it again. I hope you love it! Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

photo grabbed from Pinterest (owner unknown; will search for it and add it here)

Want more stories? Check out the Blue Lock Masterlist!

On nights, he would stay up and wonder where he went wrong.

He knew he had gotten something wrong; he wasn't stupid, but the turn of events was something he couldn't control, or at least that's what he told himself to comfort him. The dissatisfaction, the cheating, the decision.

He lost everything that he once had.

If we go back to 2 years ago, Oliver Aiku was on the top of the world. Everyone loved him, everyone adored him. He was at the peak of his career at the ripe age of 27, one of Japan's most treasured players as he played for Italy. He was every kid's dream player and every teenager's role model in sports. And most of all, he had you, the best partner he could ever have; you were the one who knew him best since childhood until now and the best support he could ever have had. In every interview he had, he would honor you, telling the world that you're his lucky charm.

He had his dream life.

He had all the best in the world.

In your two years of marriage, he lived for the moment in the privacy of your shared home more than the spotlight on him all the time. Mornings were sweet as he would hold you in his arms, whispering "good morning" in your ear. As sweet love was shared between the safety of your sheets, he knew so well that this was his heaven, having you by his side. The routine of your quiet and comfortable days was something he held close to his heart because he knew how much you cared for him every day, and he gladly reciprocated that. It was all so surreal.

You were so surreal.

But sometimes, the devil slithers silently into the garden without anyone noticing, and for Aiku, it was the playful banters he had with his teammates.

"Don't you ever find it boring?" Lorenzo asked as they all gathered back into the locker room after a productive day of practice. That question alone got everyone's attention.

"Find what boring?" Barou chimed in, his gruff voice echoing in the room. Lorenzo cocked his head towards Aiku as he replied, "I was asking Mr. Lavender Haze here. I wanna know if marriage ever gets boring." Barou scoffs, shaking his head at his teammate. "You wouldn't understand that because all you ever care about is money."

"True, but that's because money can't hurt me," Lorenzo snickered. He slung an arm around Aiku, leaning all his weight on the defender. "Aiku has given up being a player for his partner. That's something I never expected him to do. He'd always disappear every time we're out drinking."

"There are things that needed to be sacrificed for love, Lorenzo," Aiku said, removing Lorenzo's arm around his shoulders. "You'd understand once you fall in love."

"But does it get boring?" Niko asked. The youngest of the team was never one to ask or peep when they talk about relationships, but this conversation must have piqued his interest. "Two years of marriage with the same person and all you do is now a routine. Surely, you'd return to your natural self, your human tendency of being a player."

"Niko, that's why sacrifices are made. I wouldn't have married them if I didn't truly love them. Besides, I know what I was doing before was destructive and inappropriate. I changed for them, and I couldn't be happier."

Niko hummed in response and continued whatever he was doing. But for Aiku, the questions stayed in his mind for quite a while. Does it ever get boring?

That's why he'd break up his past relationships before; 3 months of being together turn dull for him. He needed excitement, a challenge. He needed the thrill of chasing and pursuing. He lived for that high. But you..

You offered contentment, satisfaction, safety, and security. Something he never felt before because he tended to cheat and lily pad. He never wanted to settle down until you came back into his life and accepted him for who he was, loved him despite his past, and cared for him more than he ever cared for himself. You were the epitome of perfection in his eyes.

It was then he realized he still wanted it.

He wanted to get high on that feeling again.

It started small. Drinks with the team would turn into them entertaining fangirls at the bar. It wasn't new that Aiku would get the attention. Girls loved how he looked: his heterochromic eyes and how he carried himself. He'd tell them he was married at first, but with the need for thrill, he eventually gave in and chatted with one of the girls.

He didn't push her away when her hand started to wander on his thighs.

He didn't pull away when her lips got too close to his.

Eventually, his thoughts turned into fruition. The devil made him bite into the apple that wasn't supposed to be eaten, but whatever.

One make-out session turned into secret texts and calls. He was so good at being so discreet, making him feel nostalgic. His excuses weren't so obvious that you'd start suspecting him of anything. Rendezvous were hidden under the guise of extra training time due to an upcoming match, and calls were excused as ones from his manager about "interviews". He was careful, but could not hide the fact that it was...

It was everything he wanted, and he wanted more. More of the thrill, more of her, while still in the safety of your love and marriage.

How could you be so blind, he asked himself. How could his lovely partner be so trusting of him? How could you still smile and kiss him without knowing he was betraying you?

How could he imagine a life without you?

Months passed, and he knew he was in too deep. He started prioritizing the "practices" and "calls from the manager" over the time he should spend with you. It annoyed you, but you knew that's one of the things you were made aware of when you married the football star. His career comes first; the sports community will always have his attention first.

The calls kept coming, and one day, you answered one on his phone.

It wasn't the voice of his manager.

You were quick to pack up and leave despite his pleas, telling you he was sorry, that it was a mistake, that it wasn't supposed to happen.

"I told you, Aiku. When you proposed to marry me, I told you one mistake, I'll leave. I trusted you with all of my life, Aiku. I accepted you and saw how you changed for our marriage, and yet you betrayed me."

He couldn't bring himself to look you in the eye after that.

He couldn't bring himself to wake up every morning, your absence making it all heavier. You weren't coming back soon, and he messed up. He lost you. He lost the life he knew he wanted. He lost the love he never deserved in the first place, yet you gave it to him wholeheartedly. You gave him a chance, and he failed.

The divorce papers arriving at his doorstep made it all worse.

He didn't want to sign it. He stared at it for too long, for days... for weeks... until your lawyer had to ring him up for the deadline.

He hated himself. For the first time, he hated every fiber of his being.

Every court meeting is like seeing the light because he gets to see you, his perfect angel. The only love he's ever known. But you would never meet his eyes. Always looking away, always so distant. He did this, he caused this. He lost the only love he ever knew.

After two whole years and several court hearings, your divorce was finalized. And for the first time in a long time, Aiku finally caught a glimpse of your eyes, the closest thing he could get to feeling your love once again, yet the words that came out of your mouth crushed him.

"I hope you realize that I will be the only one who will truly love you for you and not for your money and fame."

Aiku wasn't a crier. He never was, but he found himself breaking down at your words and how real this finally felt. He truly lost you. You were no longer his, and he's just a shell of a broken man.

He'll be haunted by the ghost of you, forever...

[dcxdpdabbles]

In the spirit of commenting more on fics/supporting authors, I’ve finally decided to stop lurking, and say, hey, hi, hello there!

How are you doing today?

I just wanted to say you’re one of my all-time favorite DPxDC writers—in fact, I’ve been following you and your work since The Bakery is a Front!…right?'s first chapter back in June 2023, and it’s been such an amazing ride getting to read all of the wonderful stories you’ve created! They’re all so very creative (and hilarious!), the pacing is always great, and I love how your way of storytelling is easygoing and mellow; it’s so casual and cozy and easy to get into (for lack of a better phrasing)!

And can I just say how much I adore the way you write each and every single character, and their reactions/inner thoughts/dialogue about whatever’s going down in the plot, be it an ongoing story, oneshot, the tags, or those adorable little “From a fic I never wrote” tidbits? 10/10 every single time! (Your dialogue’s super great!!!!!!!)

I can’t count the number of times I’ve gone and reread everything you’ve published, nor how much time passes by whenever I do so. All I know is that my worries go away whenever I read your stories; they’re quite comforting!

Your stories provide so much inspiration, it’s even gotten to the point where I made a mini analysis for Danny’s Grill, and two playlists for Danny Fenton’s Ex and The Adopted Son (though that last one hasn’t been updated, since I haven’t had a chance to officially finish the last three? parts lol; that, and both playlists share a lot of the same songs), though all of those were either unpublished or kept private.

(They’ve also given way to many plot bunnies lol)

It’s a sentiment that bears repeating: you are an amazing writer, you’re so big brained, and I love everything you’ve ever written; don’t let anybody tell you otherwise!!!

I wasn’t sure how to end this, aside from hoping you have a good day or whatever time it may be for you, so I’ll leave off with a quote from one of my favorite songs, from one of my all-time favorite musicals, that’s hopefully… er, comforting? Wasn’t sure how to describe it (and if it isn’t, then I apologize for that):

“Just keep moving on. Anything you do, let it come from you, then it will be new. Give us more to see.” — Dot (Sunday in the Park with George, “Moving On,”)

SUOGHSOHUOGFUOHUGFWUEH

THIS WAS SUCH A NICE THING TO READ!!!

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I can't believe you enjoyed those aus so much you made playlists and mini analysis, but it makes me so happy that you did.

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

hii oh my god I can't get ur chubby reader x naoya fic out of my head,,,, pls could you make more headcanons for like anything they do omfggg 😭 😭 😭 incel naoya that turns into a complete freak for a chubby reader is SUCH A GOOD idea like I genuinely can't get enough for it. it's so 🤤 🤤 THANK YOU

imagine he stumbled on a camgirl reader tho...

Oh my GOD

CW: chubby fem reader x Naoya Zenin, camgirl au, Naoya is a podcaster/streamer, Naoya is an ASSHOLE but what else is new?, misogyny, smut, paid sexual content, masturbation

You got me thinkin with this one sksksk

Okok so this is how i imagine it

You're a fairly popular camgirl, you have several thousand followers on twitter and about a thousand on onlyfans. You get some decent money but not enough that you could make it your full time job, yk? So you do onlyfans on the side of whatever job you're doing

You do a wide variety of content, but your most popular content is where you're just a sweet innocent chubby girl who is being corrupted by the viewer—THAT gets you big bucks

You also do personalized content for extra money where viewers request certain content and you provide as long as they pay

It's a pretty good gig! And you get to cum so that's all that matters sksksk

Naoya is a podcaster and streamer and he's GROSS 🤢🤮

He's one of those misogynistic streamers who criticizes women for everything and has "tRaDiTiOnAl VaLuEs" or whatever bullshit excuse he makes for being an asshole

And one segment he has on his show is rating onlyfans content

He rates content that his fans send in and he usually degrades the women for being slutty or whatever 🙄😒😮‍💨

"These girls have no respect for themselves. They're only good for a little bit of fun but then you should find a good traditional woman to marry."

He does his usual spiel with the content he's sent, but then during one stream, one of his viewers shares your content

They leak one of your videos where you're on your knees sucking a dildo and staring into the camera, wearing a white babydoll and little bunny ears

Naoya gets quiet when your video plays, making small comments here and there about how your technique isn't that bad and the eye contact is good

He gives you the highest rating he's ever given on his channel! Your content is sweet and innocent and since you don't collab with anyone then you're not that much of a slut

He secretly saves your username and continues with his stream

You wake up the next day to an influx of new followers and subscribers, wondering where all these new people came from

You also get some more paid requests for content, a lot of it misogynistic in nature

You deny a lot of the content, having too much respect for yourself, but you notice one request that stands out

thestrongest#1: i want a video where you fuck yourself with your biggest dildo and praise me for how awesome i am

What baloney 🙄😮‍💨

But money is money and he's offering a pretty large amount for this video, so you accept

The video is pretty standard: you prep yourself off camera so you're wet and ready to go when the camera starts

You praise him, like he asks, telling him how cool he is, how handsome and strong, how you wish he was fucking you instead of your toy

You say his name when you cum and blow a kiss to the camera before ending the video

You think nothing of it and go about your life

But then another request comes in. And another. And another until you have a mountain of requests all from the same guy

He's willing to pay a pretty penny for your content, so you always accept his requests and make bank

thestrongest#1: i want you to deepthroat a dildo while touching yourself and looking at the camera

thestrongest#1: i want you to wear a cute dress with no underwear and bend over for the camera and there's a butt plug in your ass

thestrongest#1: i want you to bake cookies in nothing but an apron

You keep doing the requests bc he pays good and the requests aren't too far fetched or weird

You get a lot of money from this user, so you decide to have a little fun

You go on a shopping spree, buying a couple of cute outfits with accessories, and you decide to do something nice so you make a personalized video for free where you show thestrongest#1 all the stuff you got bc of him

You send him the video and go about your day

Later that night you get another request from him

thestrongest#1: i want to do a video call where we masturbate together

You're a little taken aback. You've never done a video call before, although others have asked for it. But he's been so good to you so far, giving you so much money for your videos, so you accept

You set up for your video call, doing your usual prep before he ends up calling you at the arranged time

You answer the phone to see a muscular body and a big, hard cock, but his face is out of view

"Hey baby," his voice is pretty hot, "you all ready for me?"

"Of course," you coo. "I've been thinking about this all day."

"You have?" he asks, sounding excited

"Yeah," you spread your legs, holding open your pussy lips, "see how wet I am?"

"Holy shit," he mutters, scooting his chair closer to his computer. "Fuck, you look so good. Start touching yourself for me."

So you do. You start with your fingers, rubbing your wet clit in circles and moaning his name. He grabs his cock and starts playing with it, pumping it slow and languid

"Fuck yourself with your fingers, princess. I wanna see you stretch yourself out for me."

You lean forward, moving your fingers to your entrance and pushing two inside

You finger yourself while stimulating your clit, moaning

"Does it feel good, baby?"

"Yeah... but it's not enough. I want more."

"You want a nice fat cock inside you, don't you?"

"Uh-huh."

"Fuck, get your dildo baby. And your vibrator. Wanna watch you fuck yourself."

You grab your supplies beside you and start fucking yourself with the dildo, pressing the vibrator to your clit

You continue dirty talking and moaning with each other, making yourself cum a couple times before he starts getting close

"Fuck, I wanna cum in you. Wanna fill you up and get you pregnant. You want that, baby? Want me to make you a mommy?"

Ew, no, you're a stranger

But you're getting paid so 😮‍💨

"Yes!" you moan. "Please, cum in me! I want it so bad!"

He groans, moving his hand faster before he finally cums all over his abs, moaning your name.

You both calm down, you relaxing on your bed and him sliding down his chair, unintentionally revealing his face

He's handsome 😳

And he knows it too 🙄

"You like what you see?" he asks, smirking at you.

"Yeah, you're pretty hot."

"Hottest one there is, baby. Bet I look a hell of a lot better than the betas who you do this with."

"Actually, you're the first guy I've ever done this with."

"Shit, really?!" he asks, sitting up in his chair, shocked. "You haven't done this with anyone else?"

"Nope, just you."

He smirks. "Damn, I'm really special then. I'll pay you extra if you promise not to do this with anyone else."

"Well, you are my best paying customer."

"Hell yeah I am. Nobody's better than me, baby."

Oh my god, he's insufferable

"Well, I gotta go. Gotta get some sleep for work tomorrow."

"This isn't your full time job?"

"No, this is just a side gig."

"Damn, we'll have to fix that."

You don't know what he means, but you say your goodbyes and end the call

You're exhausted from having to work so much, but you're finally done and you take a shower to relax.

You start getting more donations after that, more frequent and larger amounts

You also start getting gifts in your P.O. box, pretty dresses and lingerie and sex toys

YOU EVEN GET A SEX MACHINE WTF

You know who's sending all of this bc he always makes it known to you 🙄

He's so smug about it too

Think of me when you use this

He's a pain lol

But you appreciate the gifts and make him more videos as thanks

You also do more requested video calls with him, wearing the clothes and using the toys he got you

He makes you praise him most of the time, telling him how handsome and muscular he is, how his cock is so big, all that junk

You eventually find his main account on twitter and realize what a misogynistic piece of shit he is

He hasn't changed since he met you, always criticizing women and what they do, telling others how to be alpha men, stupid bullshit

But behind the scenes he's just a simp for you, giving you a big part of his paycheck every month

You still keep your job but pretend that onlyfans is now your fulltime job, just to get him off your back

He gets so smug thinking that he's supporting your entire lifestyle 😒

And then one day you get another request, this one being the highest amount he's offered you so far

thestrongest#1: i want to collab irl

So... what do you do?

[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

[cheerysmores]

Sunrise sunset

Pairing: Bloodweave Word count: 2.6K Preview: Gale recognised the coolness in his words, something open, almost raw. He’d heard it once before, deep in the Shadow Curse that surrounded Reithwin. They’d floated tangled and formless in his conjured sky, breathless from their lovemaking. He’d whispered his devotion, kissed it over that wretched scar hacked into Astarion’s flesh again and again and again until the feeling was brighter and hotter than the stars that drenched them.  Astarion hadn't been ready to say it back. Not quite yet. ‘It’s the first time in centuries that this hasn’t been a transaction.’ ‘My love will never be a transaction.’ ‘Darling, everything is a transaction. Heroes, nobles, the great and the good, when you spend 200 years stalking the underbelly of a city, you see the truth behind such pretty masks. Nothing is given freely— it’s all about the right fingers in the right pocket’ ‘Which pocket am I pilfering then?’ ‘That’s just it. You aren’t– which is a first for me. Whatever this is, not knowing where it will go… it’s nice.’ A/N: Another February birthday gift! This time it's for the ever-talented @unforgiving-girl

Most knew Baldur’s Gate as the City of Heroes. For centuries it stood with unyielding walls, its stories intense enough to catch the ears of even the most seasoned travellers. Many a legend began or ended on its streets; many an adventurer's life too. Now that city was burning. The black sheet of night flickered with the embers of smouldering buildings. The lofty watchtowers had fallen like twigs in the wind, littering the streets with rubble and splintered lumber. Bodies were silently piled into carts and taken to be identified, yet still, its citizens cheered. Ballads of victory drifted from the standing taverns and fireworks burst like showers of golden stars above the Upper City. 

The Absolute was defeated. And beyond all the celebration, Gale Dekarios waited.

The Chionthar rippled black and cool before him, pieces of the Netherbrain caught in the gentle tide. Barely hours ago he’d watched it rain fire onto the city below, its tendrils heavy enough to knock buildings like they were toy blocks. Now it was nothing but waste in the river. He almost wanted to laugh. The brain that called itself a God had turned to meat because he willed it to. 

Most of the wreckage had disappeared into the water along with its leash– the Crown of Karsus. Retrieving it from such sludge would not exactly be pleasant but then he’d have it. The true power of the divine, the same power that clawed and burned in his chest, could be his. He’d been able to taste the magic from a half mile away, the thought of getting closer, of touching it…

The halo of lights above his head dimmed as his concentration wavered. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to focus. Exhaustion had dried almost every shred of magic from his fingers. Even keeping up such a simple cantrip lit felt like trying to catch an especially sharp breath. 

He forced through it, the lights dancing brighter as he exhaled. They were his beacon, words he didn’t have time to say before he was being pushed away in a cloud of brandy-scented smoke.

‘I’m not going anywhere, I promise.’

Hours passed before a familiar voice broke the silence.

“I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

A relief larger than any other he’d felt bloomed in his chest as he turned and met Astarion’s crimson eyes. Last he’d seen them they were wide with fear, glittering under the very sun that was burning and tearing at his face. He’d run before Gale could summon darkness, disappearing completely into the city like breath in the air. It had been impossible to find him, more impossible to quell the fear that the man he loved was now nothing but ash on the cobbles.

Gale jogged towards him, the lights scattering in a mess. “Thank the heavens you’re alright–”

He stopped as Astarion took a small step back. “You know, I’d heard there was talk of celebration. Reverlies, drinks, speeches, the whole hero's song and dance. I’m surprised you’d miss it.”

Gale tried to keep his smile gentle. “It would hardly be fitting without you.” Even with the dimming lights he could see the burns on the vampire’s face were not fully healed. The damage cracked through his skin like veins of silver, the real price of their victory. 

Astarion looked out to the mess of the river. “Were you worried?”

“I dearly hope that is not a serious question.”

“You sweetheart. There was nothing to fret about.”

The ease of his tone dripped like melted sugar from his lips. Gale’s lights seared around them. “You were burning. I thought I was too late. That–”

“That I’d just evaporated under the sun?” Astarion’s smile wavered. “It takes a little longer than that. Trust me, it isn’t pleasant to watch. I’ve seen it.” He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing before he answered the question Gale was too tactful to ask. “Cazador showed every new spawn he made, forcing one of us to stand outside until there was just enough of our body left that could heal itself.”

Black ice curled around his words, the same as it always did when he spoke of his late master. Even as a corpse Gale knew that monster’s hands still found their way into Astarion’s mind. 

“I’m sorry. Truly,” Asatrion continued, eyes slowly sweeping back to his. “I didn’t want anyone to see me like that, fleeing into the dark like some creature, especially you. Just as we save the world, I’m hit with a screeching reminder of what I truly am.”

Gale took a small but definite stop towards him. Gods above how he wanted to hold him, reassure him, remind himself that he was still alive and solid in his arms. He’d felt the layers Astarion had so carefully built up over the years, thick and dulled as old varnish on a painting. Slowly he’d made his way under, peeling them back until he could see the bright colours underneath.

“I thought you’d been taken from me. I wasn’t going anywhere until I knew, until I could look at you again,” Gale said quietly. His chest already rotted with the orb, but the thought of losing him, of the one bright red thread in his life being ripped away was a much more crippling hurt.

Astarion’s eyes flickered like tiny fires. “This, what we have, it’s still so new. And I’m the one that pushed you away. Of course I was going to come back but I could hardly blame you if you’d gone out and made the most of the night. There are drinks to be had, crowns to collect.” A white fang digs into his bottom lip. “Divinity to claim.”

Gale recognised the coolness in his words, something open, almost raw. He’d heard it once before, deep in the Shadow Curse that surrounded Reithwin. They’d floated tangled and formless in his conjured sky, breathless from their lovemaking. He’d whispered his devotion, kissed it over that wretched scar hacked into Astarion’s flesh again and again and again until the feeling was brighter and hotter than the stars that drenched them. 

Astarion hadn't been ready to say it back. Not quite yet.

‘It’s the first time in centuries that this hasn’t been a transaction.’

‘My love will never be a transaction.’

‘Darling, everything is a transaction. Heroes, nobles, the great and the good, when you spend 200 years stalking the underbelly of a city, you see the truth behind such pretty masks. Nothing is given freely— it’s all about the right fingers in the right pocket’

‘Which pocket am I pilfering then?’

‘That’s just it. You aren’t– which is a first for me. Whatever this is, not knowing where it will go… it’s nice.’

“It would be a lie to say I haven’t thought about claiming Karsus’s power,” Gale started, closing the space between them a little more. “The Gods in all their infinite might and wisdom do so little to help the plight of mortals, and those they do deign to speak to, they ruin. I could do so much more, make new rules and claim a domain that would make even Mystra shake with fear… But I won’t.” 

Astarion tilted his head. “Why not? It sounds right up your proverbial alley.”

“Part of me wants to say that there is a long and thought out reason, that I finally learned my lesson after the rather ignominious end to my relationship with Mystra– but truthfully, it’s much simpler than that.”  He looked back to the ink of Chionthar, his voice softening. “You told me that you preferred me as I am: mortal, thrown from grace, aging and imperfect. Knowing that… it’s more than enough.” It still surprised him how solid his words were. When they’d sat in his illusion of the outer planes, he’d been more than steadfast in his want to claim divinity. He had to admit, it was almost poetic in its perfection. The last vestige of Karsus’s power was in his chest and the crown so close to his grasp. All he’d have to do was take it.

And all Astarion had to do was tell him not to.

‘Just think of what I offer. I could help you live again, to walk in the sun without a parasite locked in your head.’

‘Once I would have jumped at that chance and made you claim this power regardless of what it might do to you or your soul.’

‘You are not making me do anything. I want to do this. For me. For us.’

‘You sound like me… and strangely that’s not a good thing. Back at the ritual, you told me what taking the power of all those souls would do, that I was enough– just as I am. I meant it when I said that was a gift, and it’s one I’m now returning. Please. Just be you, the first person I’ve truly cared for, the only one who’s ever seen me for...well… me. I can’t lose that.’ 

Gale held onto the memory like a candle on a cold night. “When I finally locate the crown, it won’t remain in my hands for long.”

Astarion was quiet for a moment. The breeze picked up, loosening a perfectly styled curl from its place. “You know, I think we’ve spent enough being used for ends we have no say in. If Mystra wants this crown so badly she should get it herself. I’d pay any amount of gold to watch a goddess wade through this sewer of a river. I’m sure picking through all that brain matter will be delightful. Now we both choose what we want.” A more genuine smile returned to his face. Crooked. Devious. Perfect. “Who we want.”

This time, Gale didn’t fight the urge to hold him. Astarion swung into the circle of his arms, his body cold as early spring against his own. Gale threaded his hand into his hair, clinging, caressing, reminding himself that it is indeed over. He’s here. They both are. Breathing. Safe. Unburned and unexploded. 

Astarion softened against him. Gale’s breath caught slightly. Holding him was still new, a boundary strangely more delicate to cross than stripping naked and getting ravaged against a tree. It was a discovery unto itself, thoughts of the fires of Mystra’s arcane embrace quickly melting to something solid. Real. Almost frightening in a way.

He never wanted to let go.

Gale tucked the stray curl back into place. “Here’s my counter argument. If I give the crown to her, she’ll remove the orb. And then you can bite me.”

“Getting jealous of other necks are we?” Astarion gently scraped his teeth against the line of Gale’s throat. “It would be nice to get the memory of that netherse bile out of my mouth. I have wondered what it would be like to taste you right here.” He bites down at the juncture of his neck. Hard enough to bruise. Hard enough to set Gale’s mind spinning.

It’s almost shameful how much he wanted it. Years feeling only the pleasure of illusions, he needed something messy. Painful. An intimacy that could only ever belong to Astarion’s full pale lips.

He dragged his tongue over the mark, murmuring into Gale’s skin. “So– how fares the rest of this great city? Still standing?”

“I haven’t had much of a chance to explore but it is looking rather…” Astarion traced the spot again and Gale’s mind ground to a halt.

“Flattened?”

He huffed out a shaky exhale, sure the vampire could smell the bouquet of his blood from the amount of it pooling in his cheeks. “Though strangely the Upper City seems to have avoided the worst of the damage. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was as it was within the month.” 

Astarion halted his tease. “Then I suppose Cazador’s palace is still standing. Even in death he’s still a lucky bastard.” The name dropped like a stone between them, pulling all the warmth from his voice with it. Gale brushed the side of Asation’s neck, thumb resting over the twin scars there. On nights when sleep flitted from his grasp, he’d find himself zeroing in on those marks and trying not to wonder just how hard Cazador bit him to leave such deep jagged craters. 

Anger rose in Gale’s throat. It felt like a shard of ice piercing into his skin when Astarion tried to feed yet the resulting scars were barely pinpricks. How much did Cazador take when he changed him? How much did he bleed? Gale had immediately burned the diary they’d found in Cazador’s bedroom, forever destroying page after page of detailed poetry about Astarion’s pain- how he screamed, when he didn’t– an obsession so engrossing it almost dripped from the parchment.

It had been a tenday or more since they’d left his pathetic punctured body sprawled in that dark chapel. Gale hoped he was never found, that his body rotted for a thousand years in the darkness. When he leafed through the Annals of Karsus, his first thought was not saving people or fighting Mystra. No. It was of reaching into the hells, pulling the last flicker of that monster’s soul back into his bones and making him feel every second of pain as his home crumbled around him..

They both knew that some blood could never be washed off. Gale would wear Cazador’s like a badge of honour if it meant Astarion could finally find some semblance of peace.

Gale tilted Astarion’s head back. “Actually, I believe I did hear something about his palace. It burned.” Astarion’s curiosity morphed into understanding as Gale raised his hand, now wreathed in flame. “It was such a terrible, if surprisingly controlled blaze. Whoever was in there has been completely lost to ash and history.” The flame danced in his palm, playfully inviting.

Astarion’s eyes glinted in the light. “Oh dear. That is such a pity. Well I suppose I should see it for myself.” He moved his hand in a jerkier movement, his own flame splintering from his fingers.

They kissed under their joint light, the night blooming pink and red behind Gale’s eyelids as Astarion captured his bottom lip between his teeth. In a few days he could break the skin. Gale was already counting down the minutes.

“We’ve hours until dawn,” Gale murmured as they pulled apart.

Astraion shook the fire from his hand and looked to the dark horizon. “I must admit, I’ll miss it. I'm not afraid of the darkness, the world’s or mine– but I suppose I did make the choice to embrace it.”

Gale hummed, a softer light now swirling in his palm. “There’s all kinds of magic hidden in the reaches of the world. Ancient artefacts that only the most skilled of adventurers could find. I just need my library, then I’m sure we could find a way to take away the sun’s anger. But until then, we can still enjoy the light.” The magic burst from his palm.  Stripes of pink and orange cascaded over the sky, the illusion of morning unfolding around them. 

Astarion silently walked to the water’s edge, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. The sunrise cast the pearl of his skin with a rosier hue. “Do you really believe it’s possible?”

Gale pulled his sun higher into the sky, the whole dock now awash with gold. “Half a day ago we were standing on the precipice of an Elderbrain. Finding a way to shield you from the sun almost seems a trifle now.”

Gale quietly stepped to his side, holding back the rest of the words he was so desperate to say.

Marry me. Come home with me. Let me follow you wherever you go. 

They were sentiments for the morning. And there was still mischief to be had this night.

Astarion quietly reached for his hand. “Then we are going to have an awful lot of fun.”

[varda-star-queen]

Adar & Galadriel 🖤 Someone Like You

Spreading the Adariel love

A few days ago, I was listening to this song when I checked into Tumblr and saw an Adariel post from @itwillbeourswansong while it was playing. I started thinking I needed an edit of these two to this song…

So I decided to try and do it myself! This is the result and my first ever full length edit 😱

Notes before you watch it!

I'm not experienced in video editing. I have used Photoshop for many years for photos and graphics, but NOT films. So, this has been a learning curve, with lots of googling on 'how to' do this and that. That means this edit isn't 'professional' standard by any means. It was made with lots of love, but apologies if it's a little clunky! I honestly don't know about specific video editing software, so this was all done on Photoshop (which is possibly my all-time favourite software - it can actually do everything. No, I'm not sponsored by Adobe unfortunately 🤣)

The song "Someone Like You" is not the Adele version. It's from a not-so-well-known musical that I absolutely love "Jekyll and Hyde" (there are some other cracking songs in it too BTW if you want to check them out), but if you're not a fan of musicals, then soz this might not be for you! Though this number isn't cheesy.

You will need tissues - this I'm told by the wonderful @itwillbeourswansong who was kind enough to preview this film and let me know if it was good enough for public viewing (you might also need a prop - she was brought to her knees apparently 🤣😱… oh, and fire extinguishers - Adar is proper HOT in any edit)

Thank you so much lovely @itwillbeourswansong for giving me moral support throughout this very enjoyable project! And your beautiful words have given me the confidence to share this with fellow Adariels and other interested parties!

Enjoy, friends 🤍🖤

[alien-star88]

🎉🥳Happy birthday to me ! I'm officially 15 !🎉🥳

Im still processing the fact 2024 was 3 months ago. And how I still feel 13 . Fuck im getting old. I know I'm 15 now but in the next 5 years I'll be 20... it's not a long time if you think about it !

I wanna make this post a bit long , just to thank people here , on Tumblr (Before I vanish again to finish my projects and shit) for their support and for the inspiration, and the motivation they have given me these past few months. Why , because I just wanna thank them for the time I've being here on tumblr , a lot of them have nelped me with my anxiety when posting here on Tumblr:

@itz-miss-kamilyvision

My first moot . When I first joined tumblr , I saw your SMG4 art , and I saw you as , like a celebrity of the Fandom here on Tumblr. You were the first person to send an ask to Demon Puzzles, and that holds a very big and special place to my heart . Thank you .

@runrabitrunrunrun

Your support with my ocs and my au has played a special part for me , giving me motivation to draw. Speaking of drawing ! I was honestly shocked when I saw you draw in FlipaClip , cuz HOW! Your oc , Nicknack has such a unique design , and her lore is very well planned ! I love your artstyle too ! It's very squishy !

@sauceytwinkietwinkling

Your support has also done a lot! I also saw you as a big part of the Fandom. So I was shocked that you followed me ! Your oc,Ugatha, brought me a lot of comfort at times !

@kymera-that-does-stuff

Your reblogs have brought laughs to me , and also awareness with certain things, as well as comfort , knowing not everyone here is rude . And your art has always fascinated me !

@niranutcake

I know we haven't talked much , but your support to me has also meant a lot . And I thank you for that ! Your oc is very cute ! Simple , yet expressive!

@4thwallbreakerdraws2

Imma be Hella honest . When I saw you like posts that didn't involve Demon Puzzles , I lost it (In a good way!) I also saw you as a celebrity in the SMG4 Fandom! RTV was one of the first AUs I saw, here on Tumblr!

@jovialoddity

Thank you . That's all I'm gonna say . Thank you for a lot . I know I've said it before . And sorry if I tag you a lot , you've inspired me a lot as a young artist .Labyrinth and The Lost Boys will forever be my favorite movies. You will forever be my number 1 favorite artist!

@fenicearts420

When I saw you loved HTTYD I freaked out ! I loved the movies and the series ! I thought the Fandom was dead completely! But nope , it's not! I'm glad we both freaking love HTTYD . And I thank you for your support as well . Seriously Thank you .

Thank you everyone for everything! Seriously, it means a lot to me . I came to tumblr not expecting my art and au to pop off. Yall are awesome, and im glad i saw you guys here on Tumblr. 👽💙💚

[lemotmo]

This seems like the most logical way forward to me as well. Where do you stand on this?

Q. I'm just curious why you no longer believe that making Eddie gay really works story wise? What do you mean by that? I think the story mostly needs him to be gay given how long it has taken.

A. How long it has taken is precisely why making him gay now doesn't really flow as smoothly from a story perspective as it did in season 5. When Ana was introduced the only thing we knew or saw of Eddie's romantic past was his version of his history with Shannon and their brief reconnection prior to her death. So tying the root of their problems to Eddie trying to force himself to be straight could have and would have worked. If they had been able to go with the original plan for season 5 then it wouldn't have been an issue but the audience knows better now. Sex with Shannon was the one part of their relationship that worked. That was established. We saw it. The Ana stuff was more complicated for numerous reasons besides the fact that she was supposed to be his coming out arc. For one it was during COVID and they simply couldn't film that kind of stuff, she was also the first woman in Christopher and Eddie's life since Shannon's death, and the show made a point of telling that story between Eddie and Chris. Then between the end of his relationship with Ana and now the show also doubled down on his love for Shannon. And then there's Marisol. Physical intimacy was not the problem in their relationship. It was established, by Eddie himself, that prior to her nun reveal they had an active and good sex life. So it's far more believable from a story standpoint now to believe that his subconscious attached itself to the nun nonsense as an excuse for him to sabotage the relationship. Once he asked her to move in the relationship became serious and he needed an out. Which is not unlike Eddie to do.

Yes the original plan for Ana was his gay arc but when FOX cut that, the story they went with just Eddie not being in love with her. A stranger calling her 'mom' caused panic attacks. But the show has also established that Buck is very much a part of their family and it doesn't freak Eddie out in any way. They've already been telling that story so to tie Eddie's feelings realization to that, makes perfect sense. And now makes more story sense than Eddie realizing he's gay. That doesn't mean they can't or won't go the gay route, but it is true that making him gay is not as clean of a story route as it once was. And it's okay to say that. Buck and Eddie's canon viability is not contingent on one of them being gay. It's contingent on Oliver and Ryan's chemistry and the ability of the writing to give them something to work with. Chemistry will never be an issue for Oliver and Ryan, they've already shown they have that in spades. The show is also not going to make both of them bisexual. Again, something that Buck himself has yet to acknowledge he actually is. I just think from the show's perspective the Buck and Eddie of it all is what's important, more important than how they identify individually going forward. And that's also okay. Your ability to ship them shouldn't rely on one of them identifying as gay either. Of course representation is important but 911 is hardly lacking in inclusivity. We ship them for everything else about them that their canon history has already given us. Please understand that I'm not at all saying it won't work to make him gay or it's bad story telling to make him gay, that's not what I'm saying. But it's not as smooth of a story now as it was back in season 5. Identifying as gay will not be a wrong way to go, but it's not necessary for the story either.

Thank you Nonny!

I said it before and I'll say it again: I can see this going both ways at this moment. I've read compelling 'gay Eddie' meta and I've now read Ali's compelling 'unlabeled Eddie' meta. Both are possible in my eyes and I'd be fine with either of them to be honest. There is something to be said for both of these scenarios.

My problem with well-written meta is that it all sounds good and plausible, so I tend to agree with most of it. 🤣🤣🤣

My dream is still demisexual bi Eddie, but I don't think the show would ever go there.

Whatever the show decides to do, I'm just going to go with the flow. These guys deserve happiness, so them finally being together and in love will be a beautiful thing to witness on screen, no matter what label they have.

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[pumpkingrumpkin]

So first episode of tmagp season 2 was a RIDE. Me and my friend have had some Thoughts on Colin and Freddie and data integration. I thought it could be fun to share them in case other people found interest! :

Firstly, my pal thinks that Colin might have been becoming an avatar in some way like Ink5oul. Ink5oul was unaware of what was happening to them also, and they had the same kind of angry fear about the situation they were in (even if they found some twisted joy in theirs sometimes).

The rest of this is from the episode itself:

Colin is organically joined to computer w/o blood when Gwen and Alice find him. (Note that the stage implies blood was present in the recording of Colin attacking Freddie, assuming blood is in fact Colin's and Freddie isn't bleeding?).

Host=self.host -> Freddie running as itself? Freddie sees 'Becher' i.e. Colin as an extension (of itself?) - evidence towards Colin being an avatar related to Freddie.

"self.host runtime interruption" caused by the crowbar. THEN as attack happens Colin's 'administrator privilege' is revoked.

It sounds Freddie is physically doing something to Colin after the crowbar attack. Computer has control over physical parts of itself? As in it can move them - reference is made to Freddie physically grabbing Colin and "forcibly dragged" into the server. Note: Freddie has physical defences!!!

This happens AFTER the crowbar "unexpected data" is "isolated/resolved". Which is also when it states that "Independent operation permissions revoked" and "Node integration running". Did it view Colin as a part of its system? A part that was independent of Freddie but still belonged to it. Other parts of the system include everything that's been recording on inc. computers/phones/cameras.

Now that Colin has attacked Freddie, it has deemed that the independent external part of its system cannot be trusted to remain independent. So it is now absorbing him into it's central system (the server itself).

Colin's organic matter is mostly discarded (the bit where Freddie is discarding data e.g. carbon.BECHER). The only exception is sulphur.BECHER which is *uploaded*!!! Sulphur has applications in computers to help them process data more efficiently - specifically mimicking how the human brain processes stuff (according to the article below at least). Which implies that Freddie is discarding Colin's body apart from the bits that are useful for processing the 'non-physical bits' of him.

(also: https://eprints.soton.ac.uk/396823/1/JLT_acp_nh_acp%2526hj_review_v2_r1_final.pdf)

"Extension BECHER" is "resolved" after the elemental data is discarded, which supports this! (credit to Edward Elric for training me to recognise what makes up a human body). Freddie then reads out "Data integration cycle ongoing <0.02%>" which implies that it is still processing some of the "data" from absorbing Colin. This happens 3 minutes from when Colin starts being absorbed. If you do the maths this means that this data will be 100% integrated after 25 hours i.e. data integration of Colin in just over a day!!

I think this means we might get Colin as another voice in the computer - but I'm not sure what this means for Chester/Jon, Norris/Martin and Augustus/Jonah. In the same chunk of Freddie dialogue as data integration we get that the "self.host errors" are resolved (which I think means Freddie is up and running) BUT that ".jmj error not resolved". To me jmj is very Jon/Martin/Jonah coded - so I am curious what is going to happen with regards to that and what the error implies.

ALSO Freddie states that "New administrator privileges assigned". Which to me means someone else has been given Colin's role as Administrator to Freddie. And I don't know about you guys but titles never seem to go well for the person given them in the magus verse.

God I am so excited for the rest of this season!!!

[hollowed-theory-hall]

I'm not sure if you've answered this before, but what protections do you think Hogwarts actually has? It's said that it's the safest place (outside of maybe Gringotts which you've done a post about) but that's mainly due to Dumbledore's existence in relation to Voldemort it feels like (after the events in the books).

Hogwarts doesn't seem to have many defenses, all things considered. Kind of like with Gringotts, the defenses of the castle are kinda overrated.

We have anti-apparation charms that are built in and have been there for years:

In any case, most Wizarding dwellings are magically protected from unwanted Apparators. At Hogwarts, for instance —” “— you can’t Apparate anywhere inside the buildings or grounds,” said Harry quickly. “Hermione Granger told me.”

(HBP)

There are similarly ever present muggle repelling charms, but they don't really do anything to protect from wizards.

We see there are no built-in ways to recognize magic that might be harmful, as Filch has to check students for dark magic manually:

“Oh no, of course you weren’t, I forgot you were late. . . . Well, Filch ran over all of us with Secrecy Sensors when we got into the entrance hall. Any Dark object would have been found, I know for a fact Crabbe had a shrunken head confiscated. So you see, Malfoy can’t have brought in anything dangerous!”

(HBP)

And we see there's no inherent magic in the castle that recognises the Death Eaters as a threat when Draco lets them in in HBP.

The gate and walls of the castle have some defensive capabilities in HBP:

“I could climb a wall,” he suggested. “No, you couldn’t,” said Tonks flatly. “Anti-intruder jinxes on all of them. Security’s been tightened a hundredfold this summer.”

(HBP)

But it's not built into the castle, the jinxes were placed there over the summer by Dumbledore or another professor. They're special security measures that are usually not there.

Hell, the only thing stopping the dementors from entering the school was Dumbledore's word and pressure on Fudge. Sirius broke into the castle ridiculously easily (sure, he knew secret passages, but, that's a pretty major security breach).

In DH, when they need to fortify the castle, what do they do?

“We shall secure the school against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named while you search for this—this object.” “Is that possible?” “I think so,” said Professor McGonagall dryly, “we teachers are rather good at magic, you know. I am sure we will be able to hold him off for a while if we all put out best efforts into it. Of course, something will have to be done about Professor Snape—” [...] “Thank you, Pomona,” said Professor McGonagall, and between the two witches there passed a look of grim understanding. “I suggest we establish basic protection around the place, then gather our students and meet in the Great Hall. Most must be evacuated, though if any of those who are over age wish to stay and fight, I think they ought to be given the chance.”

(DH)

Their defenses are down to the magic the professors and students are capable of casting. There is no magical shield built into the school. It's all charms the professors and other defenders set up.

So, Hogwarts' base defenses are just against apparation and everything else we see was added by the headmaster/teachers present at the time. So, you're assessment of Hogwarts' status as "one of the safest places" is really down to Dumbledore being there, otherwise, it isn't really safer than most wizarding homes. At least magically.

See, castles are inherently defensive structures, they were built as a military structure, so if Hogwarts is actually built like a proper castle, its exterior walls can be really thick. We're talking about an average of 10 to 20 feet (~3 to ~6 meters) wide walls for keeps in later European castles. So, while these aren't magical defences, I'm going to assume a bombarda would have a harder time blasting through that than a regular wall. Also, the walls were built in layers to be harder to break through, castles had towers and ramparts built to allow defenders to rain down death on potential besiegers while also giving the defenders cover, and many other elements that worked to defend castles historically. But it's not impregnable and castles were taken irl, and they're definitely not impregnable when you throw magic into the mix (for example, we see the walls break down in the battle in DH). But it's something.

That's all I could really find, so, yeah, it's safe because of Dumbledore and his reputation more than the actual spells on the castle it seems.