#completely stuck on pic 3

[silver-samurai]

⸺ Control.

[snailsaresnails]

Hello I’m insane

Closer up

Oh also bonus <3 @yourlocalangelkin

(Rambling and context in tags :3)

[ssa-dado]

30 Seconds

triathlon!Aaron Hotchner x fleabag!reader Genre: SMUT, pre-relationship mutual pining and just a touch of ♫ LOATHING, UNADULTERATED LOATHING ♫ Summary: You text the hot swim dad for legal help. He shows up in khakis. You try to behave. You fail. He's accidentally jealous of your date, you accidentally grind on his lap, he finishes in his pants, and somehow it’s the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to you. Warnings: SMUT MDNI (heavy makeout, dry humping and *sighs* Aaron creams his pants for just that... the title is descriptive enough), age gap, cuss words, hint of the vile act of female masturbation *pearl clutch*, objectification of the Hotchner body Word Count: 4.9k (damn gurl) Dado's Corner: Based on this request! And... um... full disclosure... I added the glasses part solely because of the cat pic sent by @hotchology, who said this ginger furball is how they imagine Hotch in glasses (LOOK HOW CUUUTE)

masterlist(s)

Everything showers.

A sacred rite of modern womanhood.

Takes minimum two geological eras to complete, consumes half the planet’s fresh water, and must be repeated often to remain an eligible mating partner.

Because that’s the whole point of being a woman, isn’t it? To be clean, hairless, glowing, and vaguely vanilla-scented - just fuckable enough for men who think 3-in-1 shampoo counts as skincare.

The concept of an everything shower is… layered. Part hygiene. Part penance. Part psychological rebirth. A full-body cleanse for the sins you haven’t committed yet.

You’ve done them before first dates. Before almost-dates. Before parties, dick appointments, emotional breakdowns, and that one Tuesday when you just needed to check in on her-

(Her. Down there.)

Once, you even did one before visiting your mother. (Unclear whether that was for survival or atonement. Maybe both.)

But never - not even in your darkest, most masochistic imagination - did you think you’d be doing one because of an eviction notice.

Not until today.

Because Aaron Hotchner - a man who should be both physically and emotionally unavailable due to his very, very, veeeery important job saving the world - is apparently not unavailable.

Not when it matters.

Not when it’s least convenient for your nervous system.

…The irony.

All it took was one stupid text. A momentary lapse in dignity. Something he’d probably refer to as “compromised judgment.”

do you happen to know a very cheap lawyer asking for a friend

And instead of his usual three-to-five-business-days reply time, he hits you with:

aaron hotchner (work, no nudes): Are you at home now? – A.H.

And now you’re just a bit overthinking… because how does he know that?

Did the FBI install a secret camera in your pothos plant? Does he have access to some satellite heat map of your apartment? Has he been watching your window? A camera in the air vent?

(Has he seen you trying out that new clear dildo in front of the mirror for “science”?)

(The one time you tried doing yoga and got stuck in child's pose for 40 minutes?)

You don’t know. You don’t want to know.

All you do know is that you are currently fully naked, shaving for a man who:

Has no idea he’s being shaved for, while you’re on speakerphone with him, as he gets closer and closer to your building block because he invited himself into your private space and-

Would absolutely turn around and disappear if he ever caught even a hint of cucumber-scented shaving cream (you borrowed from your roommate) and realized you'd… prepared for him.

Because your “just in case” implies premeditation. And premeditation implies intention. And intention? Intention is basically foreplay.

And foreplay is strictly prohibited outside the sanctity of marriage, a psychological clearance form, and at least three signed affidavits from HR.

He would enter WITSEC on the spot. Change his name. Grow a beard.

(Hot.)

“What’s happening? Are you alright?”

He concernedly asks over the phone - totally unaware (definitely unaware) that every time he checks in on you, he’s poking your very well-buried, very latent daddy issues with a stick.

(Or maybe he keeps asking because he’s the one with daddy issues. Very obvious ones. That classic parented-child energy. Raised himself on black coffee, moral obligation and emotional regret.)

What a match, really. You get off on being cared for, and he gets off on taking care of people he’ll never emotionally open up to.

Soulmates.

Anyway-

“So… my landlord is an asshole and I really hope he gets some very painful hemor-”

Mr. FBI has the audacity to call you by your full legal name before cutting you off with, “This call is being recorded. I’d appreciate it if you refrained from making…” he even pauses, searching for the most delicate phrasing. Because God forbid he doesn’t sound like a morally burdened Disney princess. “explicit threats.”

Oh, you’d appreciate a few things too. Like having his actual number and not the one issued by the United States Government - so you wouldn’t have to worry about scandalizing some poor technical analyst who’ll be forced to transcribe this call word-for-word the second they find his body in a ditch and trace it back to you.

(“Exhibit B: She said, quote, ‘I hope he gets some very painful hemor.’”)

…But you’re not as childish as him to complain about that.

“My bad.”

“It’s alright.” (Can he please stop talking like this?)

“Yeah… I-” Your voice trips. Your face is hot. Your entire body is hotter. “The thing is-”

“I’m listening.” Oh, fuck him. (Please.)

“In short: the building’s falling apart. We’ve been emailing the guy for weeks, complaining, begging, threatening – nicely - and either he forgets to reply or says he’ll fix it and then doesn’t. It’s been an eternity and he still hasn’t done a single fuc-”

Recorded line. Recorded line. God forbid the man has a seizure because of you. “-thing.”

You hear a chuckle on the other end.

You hate phone calls.

You’d choke him if he weren’t safely boxed inside a moving vehicle.

“I said threats. You can curse. I’m not ten.” Oh, he’s smiling. You can hear it. The smug bastard.

“Oh, that I noticed.”

You love phone calls.

If he were here, he would've already hit you with one of those signature stares - intended to intimidate, but really just making you want to lick the corner of his mouth out of pure spite.

But look at you. Free. Untouchable. Doing amazing.

“The thing is, I didn’t pay rent this month. Because they’re still ignoring the repairs. And now they’re threatening to evict me if I don’t pay.”

“That’s retaliatory. It’s illegal.”

“Wait… you’re telling me I’m not screwed?”

“No, they are. You withheld payment due to unaddressed health and safety violations. That’s protected under landlord-tenant statutes,” he says, suddenly shifting into full legalese, something-something code 572, subsection blah-blah, tenant rights, lease clauses-

You don’t hear any of it. Actually, the very second he started speaking fluent Law Daddy, , your brain slammed the emergency brake to focus on the real crisis:

What the fuck are you going to wear.

“Document everything-“

Lace? Bold choice, but post-shave? Masochism. Granny cotton briefs? He’ll never look at you again.

“Photos.”

Tight top, no bra? Risky.

What if he hugs you and feels how obnoxiously hard your nipples are?

(He’s not a hugger. He doesn’t seem like a hugger. Right?)

(Right??)

(But what if he is today?)

(What if he walks in, sees you - top clinging, no heating - and suddenly decides: You know what? Now’s the time. Now’s the moment I become a hugger. Just for her. Just this once. Just to pull her in close, pretend it’s chaste, press his palm between her shoulder blades and - oh fuck - realize it’s not.)

(What if he hugs you and feels it?)

(What if he hugs you and keeps hugging you?)

(What if he grips tighter, his hand slides just a little lower, and his voice does too, right by your ear - “You’re not wearing a bra.”)

(“Neither are you, sir.”)

(And what if that hug turns into a grind, into his thigh between your legs, into lift me onto the kitchen counter and show me what else you know about tenancy law.)

“Emails.”

Loose top, skimpy bottoms? Slutty. Strategic. Respectable slutty. He’d stare at your legs all night.

(He wouldn’t. But you’d know. Which is worse.)

You should lather in coconut oil, just in case.

You should lather in coconut oil anyway – hydration is important to avoid ingrowns (and yes, to smell edible too.)

“Timestamps.”

Tight top, no bra, skimpy bottoms? Too much? Too “I can’t pay the plumber, but maybe I can offer something else...”

(Not that you’ve watched those. Obviously. You’re just… aware of the trope.)

(Not because you spent 30 minutes the other night trying to find the perfect one. And then another 10 skipping the plot because it was too unrealistic, there’s no way the plumber just happens to have lube.)

(Not that you wouldn’t do it for him. But you’re also not going to lower yourself to being a badly lit, lazily scripted fantasy for the male gaze.)

“…If you haven’t already, I’d recommend drafting a written complaint.”

“…Aaron, I don’t even know where to start,” you mutter. “That’s why I asked if you knew a very cheap lawyer.”

“I’m the very cheap lawyer.” For some reason he chuckles, probably it’s because of his own joke, “Don’t worry, we’ll do it together, I’ll be there in fifteen.”

He is not there in fifteen.

He’s “there” after fourty-eight minutes - flustered, apologizing, muttering something about I-395 and a jackknifed delivery truck, which is just adorable, really, coming from a man who’s clearly never taken the bus in heels while bleeding through his jeans, juggling three leaking Trader Joe’s bags, and re-evaluating every life decision since birth.

He’s grumbling about “infrastructure,” all furrowed brows and moral outrage. How sweet.

You, meanwhile, are Frenching the entire Department of Transportation.

You are giving gridlock the kind of wet, eye-contact blowjob that wins awards - because, for once in your adult life, the universe delayed a man just long enough for you to become a person.

Thirty-eight glorious minutes to shave, moisturize, hide the evidence of your emotional instability, light a candle, panic about the candle (too much?), blow it out, light it again (fuck it), rearrange your throw pillows, Febreze your loveseat, and clean your floors so well you briefly consider serving dinner off them - or yourself.

(Also enough time to change outfits four times, reject each one violently, and land on something that screams “Oh, this? Just threw it on,” while whispering: “I shaved everything.”)

You’ve never been more grateful for civic failure.

You look good. Your apartment looks good. You know it smells amazing in here. You know it. You can feel the Pine-Sol particles sparkling off the hardwood.

Any second now, he’s going to say something about it.

He’s going to inhale – deeply - and ask what detergent you use. Compliment your lavender baseboards.

You can feel it coming. You’re ready. You smile. You bask.

Aaron sets down his bag. Unclips it. Opens it. Looks up.

“I printed out the tenancy statutes,” he says, already pulling out an aggressively highlighted stack of documents from the briefcase.

And this would be impressive - should be impressive - if he weren’t wearing a plain black T-shirt that is doing things to his arms. And the khakis. Fucking khakis.

The most indecently decent pants in the entire male wardrobe.

They whisper "suburban dad," but scream "accidental bulge in soft daylight."

Speaking of which, unfortunately, your apartment lighting has never worked harder - midday golden-hour haze bouncing off every freshly scrubbed surface, casting soft shadows and sensual gleam until finally it settles on The Situation.

…Shit.

(Do not look at it.)

(Do not acknowledge it.)

(Do not mentally calculate whether that’s just the way his pants fold or if that’s his dick pressed against the zipper like it also has a clause to deliver.)

(Do notice, however, that he still hasn’t said a single word about how nice your apartment looks. Rude.)

“I flagged the key violations and I added notes on a recent amendment that strengthens your case - you can reference it in your response letter.” His eyes scan the room clearing it for hostiles - except all he really sees is your loveseat. Small. Soft. Close.

And you, in a tank top.

He clears his throat. Adjusts the folder. His gaze flicks back to you – quick, sharp, and immediately redirected to something safer, like the floor.

“Where… should we get set up?” he asks, like he hasn’t already mentally measured the loveseat twice, logged its exact dimensions in his brain, and is currently laser-eyeing the very cushion he’s dying – dreading - to sit on.

“Oh, I don’t know… wherever you’re comfortable.”

He nods - just a touch too seriously - then hesitates. Again. Checks one more time, with those painfully polite eyes: Can I...? Is it alright if...?

(…As if you might suddenly revoke loveseat privileges.)

Then, slowly, he lowers himself onto the cushion. Perches. Occupies the absolute minimum amount of space humanly possible.

If he still had the joint mobility of his youth, you’re convinced he’d just origami himself into a respectful little one-inch cube and tuck into the far corner.

You glance at his shoulders - very broad, deliciously broad, yes - tense, but more at how hard he’s trying not to brush them against yours. What a funny man.

Especially funny because while he's typing up your official letter - like a good little lawyer - he's also letting the conversation drift into a completely unrelated side street.

Unrelated except for the fact that it's all about you.

Like how he “casually” mentions he hasn’t seen you at the pool lately.

The one where he trains and you sit in a cracked plastic cafeteria chair pretending to wait for your friend’s aquatic therapy - when really, you’re mourning every second you’re not legally tethered to the hot dad at swim practice. The hot dad who doesn’t even know he’s the hot dad. (Him. Obviously.)

You go for your friend. Technically.

Spoiler: she’s got two weeks left.

Which means once her sessions are over, you and Aaron will have absolutely no logical reason to ever speak again. No built-in excuse. No default setting.

And now there’s a looming, mutual thing neither of you are acknowledging.

You’re sure there’s a term for this. Something about large mammals afraid of mice and metaphor.

“Yeah, I was in the lane next to your friend’s the other day…” he starts.

“Really?” You pretend you didn’t get fourteen missed calls from said friend, who - when you finally called her back - didn’t even say hi. Just launched straight into: “Burgundy swim cap guy looked up at your seat three times. Three. He looked so sad you weren’t there I had to explain where you were so he wouldn’t drown in longing.”

“Yes… we talked for a bit. She seems very nice…”

Ah.

Interesting choice of words, considering she told you – verbatim - “I can’t believe someone built like a brick shithouse could be that pathetic.”

(She has yet to understand that that is the whole appeal. Him. And that exact contradiction. Him and that-)

“So… how did… your date go?” he asks, pretending to be casual. He’s polishing his glasses against the hem of his shirt, even though they’re already spotless. (You weren’t even aware he needed glasses. Probably neither is the rest of the planet.)

He keeps at it. Rubs one lens. Then the other. Then back again.

You wonder if he’s trying to distract himself. From the question. From the answer.

Your date.

The one that made you miss your friend's call. The one you actually went on. The one that-

“It went well, actually.” It did. Way too well. And that’s the problem.

Because you keep chasing Aaron.

Despite the very obvious fact that nothing will ever happen between you. Because he’s… well, him. And you’re…

A little too young. A little too broke. A little too you.

(And technically if you do the math, you’re closer to his son’s age than his. Just by a few years, sure, but still. Still enough to justify it to yourself out loud, then say it again. And again. Until it starts sounding like a fact.)

It’s just a harmless crush. A stupid little thing. A flicker. A fantasy. A hobby, really.

You have so many of those - men. Smart, emotionally unavailable, vaguely haunted. You collect them like parking tickets: Useless. Repetitive. Always showing up when you least need them. But you keep them. Stack them in a drawer somewhere in your head.

Just in case.

Still, there’s something about this one.

About him.

Aaron.

Aaron in wireframe glasses, almost making you believe in the higher powers he believes in too. (Hopefully not the United States government.)

Aaron with that voice, that jaw, that posture.

Aaron, who says things like “landlord-tenant statute” and somehow makes it sound better than the poetry in those overpriced, niche little books you only buy for the cover, the ones where the author hits enter every four words so it tricks you into thinking they mean something.

And maybe – deep, deep down – it’s because you want to be proven wrong. That someone like him could find goodness in parts of you you’ve already declared a lost cause. That he could look at all the rot and still see something worth saving. Or maybe it’s just easier. Easier to chase something you’ll never catch than turn around and face the things already standing still, arms open, waiting to love you back.

“I’m glad to hear that,” says Deliciously Four-Eyed Aaron, just a little too tight. Tighter than his khakis, which shift and pull every time he readjusts to keep from getting a flat ass on your loveseat.

(What’s wrong, Agent Hotchner? Not expecting it to actually go well? God, you hope that’s why his jaw looks like it’s about to file for divorce from the rest of his face.)

“I don’t know him well,” he adds, clinically. “But… he seems like a nice guy. He’s good at his job.”

Right. Which is rich, coming from the man who literally handed you the guy’s number. And now he’s playing coy?

So what was that, then? A random act of kindness? A stroke of pity? Was it projection? Was it a fever dream?

Did he just reach into the FBI rolodex and go: “Hmm. You’re not under disciplinary review, you own slacks, and your blood pressure is normal. Here, date this emotionally volatile woman I know and I think you might like - she has opinions and abandonment issues, enjoy!

Because Aaron doesn’t do spontaneous. Aaron does strategic. Aaron does 48-hour surveillance and triple-signed documents.

He’s not the guy who improvises. He’s the guy who rehearses his improvisation.

So forgive you if you’re just a little confused by Mr. Times New Roman over here, trying to mentally trace the logic that gets you from “I barely know him” to “you should definitely let him finger you. Only after marriage, though.”

It’s weird. And yet, somehow, that’s not even the most annoying part.

“Good at his job?” you echo, with a laugh that sounds way too close to a cry for help. (Of course. Of course that’s Special Supervising Whatever-the-Fuck Hotchner’s metric for male compatibility. Not empathy. Not emotional availability. Not even basic social literacy. No, job performance. What a catch.) “What are you going to say next, that he’s a good person because he clocks in early and doesn’t steal breakroom coffee?”

“Well,” he says, adjusting his glasses that did not need adjusting, “I can’t vouch for the coffee. But I do see him arrive on time. From my office. If that’s what’s concerning you.”

…Oh. So that’s what this is. We’re flexing now.

Mr. I Have A Window. Mr. I Oversee The Peasants. Mr. Private Office While Everyone Else Plays Hot-Desk Musical Chairs. Mr. Title, Tenure, and a Chair That Supports Both His Spine and His Reluctance to Feel. Mr. I Deserve This Square Footage Because I Ruined My Marriage for the Federal Government.

(You could go on. And on. And on. You won’t. But you could.)

And it’s not even clear who he’s trying to one-up here. The guy he set you up with? Or… you? Both?

Like, “Yes, he’s punctual. Yes, he’s nice. Yes, he’s good at his job. But I define what good is. I’m his boss. Be impressed by me instead. Please. I beg you.”

Okay. Breathe. Relax.

No one invited him to a pissing contest and yet here he is, unzipping his intellectual fly right in the middle of your living room. (Not the fly you wanted unzipped, unfortunately.)

You squint at him. “So what, you show up before everyone else just to watch your little ducklings waddle in behind you? Mother Goose clocking in before sunrise to lead by example and assert dominance?”

He turns toward you. Tilts his head. Makes that face. The one you’ve been craving since the second he walked in.

Eyebrows drawn, mouth slightly open - just enough to spot that one crooked tooth, bless it - an expression that says concerned, confused, and disappointed in your tone, all in one.

“It’s none of that,” he’s dead serious, even if he’s visibly smiling… marvelous. “It’s just respectful to be on time.”

Sure, Agent Hotchner. Tell yourself that while polishing your Employee of the Decade plaque.

“I barely even see my boss at the café. Twice a week, tops. And only after we open.”

Aaron lifts his eyebrows. Shrugs. “I’m not an asshole.”

Then he goes back to typing, pretending he’s not biting the inside of his cheek like the whole thing didn’t get to him.

Like he’s completely unbothered by the idea of some man buying you coffee and making you laugh for two full hours.

Like his knuckles aren’t just a little too tight around that trackpad.

“You know, for someone who just said he’s not an asshole, you sure spend a lot of time trying to prove how much better you are than other men.”

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” he says, softly. Too softly. Like he knows volume would give him away.

And fuck, those eyes.

You can’t look at them too long. You bounce between his face and anything else - your coffee table, the printout, his lap (unfortunately) - because those glasses are giving him four eyes now, and all of them are aimed at your skull, dissecting every micro-expression.

He's a bit suffocating.

“I think what really bothers you,” he says, measured, "is that you’re used to being misread."

You scoff. “Excuse me?” (Bitch.)

"You act like you want to be chased, but only if it feels reluctant. If it's earned. You push people to see if they’ll push back. You turn it into a game because it’s safer that way. If it’s a game, you can pretend you were never serious when they walk away."

Well. Okay. First of all: Rude.

Second of all: Accurate. Horribly accurate.

But also: How dare he.

"And if they don't... if they try to meet you where you are... you push them away first. Just to prove you were right to be afraid" he says - and the bastard even smiles. (Fuck his dimples. Really. Pretentious as hell.) "You punish them for it… and you punish the ones who don’t play, too. Because deep down, you still don’t know which would hurt more."

"Wow," you never thought you'd actually be speechless, and yet - here you are, scrambling for a comeback. Great. "Good thing you said you weren’t trying to prove anything. Otherwise I might’ve gotten confused and assumed you were just showing off." (Good enough. You’ll take it.)

Smarty-pants chuckles under his breath then leans back against your very professional, very structurally unsound loveseat. His knee brushes yours.

You pretend not to notice. He pretends he doesn’t notice you noticing.

"Not showing off, just telling you what you already know."

"Oh, right, because you’re such an expert on me."

"I’m just observant."

"And arrogant." And a fucking hypocrite too.

"And you still looked at my mouth twice." What a who-

Somewhere between your brain screaming full bitch slap, full bitch slap and your hand almost twitching to deliver it… you miscalculate.

You lean in. And instead of bruising his cheekbone, you crash your mouth against his.

Pride - and the stack of feminist books judging you from the bookshelf - insist it’s you who moves first. You believe them. You have to.

Even though his hands are already there - rough and steady, drowning your face in their grip - before you even finish breathing in your half-ounce of courage. Before you really even choose anything at all.

(But sure. Go ahead. Call it empowerment. You’re totally running the show. Girlboss shit.)

You want to bite him. Sink your teeth into that smug, diagnosing mouth. Split his lip. Make him bleed all over the living room he still hasn’t bothered to compliment the smell of. (You’re not petty about it… it’s just an observation.)

But it’s slower instead.

You taste his nerve first, his fear right after.

He’s already halfway to pulling back even as he keeps kissing you - trying to have it both ways - and for a second, you do break apart.

Both pretending you could still undo this. (And also undo all the bullshit he said earlier, profiling you so hard he didn’t even realize he was accidentally outing himself too.)

It doesn’t last.

You crash back into him, sloppier, mouths dragging, missing, gasping, half-kissing, half-clawing at each other as you’re both a little too desperate to land properly.

For a split second, the kiss turns... almost sweet. Tender. Romantic, even.

You could say he’s a good kisser.

You could say he’s a great kisser.

You could say he’s the only man alive who could kiss you stupid and still find a way to remind you to breathe through your nose.

(Like when he notices you getting lightheaded and somehow fixes it without even pulling away... which, not gonna lie, is a little humbling.)

But there’s no time for critical analysis. You’re already shoving him flat onto the loveseat, pinning him down, while he blinks up at you - wide-eyed, flushed, so beautiful it makes your chest hurt.

(And he looks so... concerned. As if he’s realizing just now that there’s absolutely no dignified way to get out of this alive.)

(Good. He shouldn’t.)

There’s tongue.

There’s teeth.

There’s his hands – everywhere - gripping your waist, sliding under your shirt, squeezing the backs of your thighs, pushing your leg higher over him until you can feel - Oh. Oh, he’s hard. He’s so fucking hard.

There’s a muffled noise from the back of his throat that sounds suspiciously like please and you are not thinking about that right now.

And it’s-

God.

It’s filthy. It’s great.

You grind down hard, whimpering shamelessly into his mouth, and he bucks up into you, meeting you halfway with both hands locked around your ass, squeezing so rough you’ll be wearing fingerprints by tomorrow.

(You hope so.)

(You really fucking hope so.)

He helps you move –

Up.

Down.

Slower.

Harder.

Guiding your hips with just enough pressure to make it feel like it’s your idea, finding the rhythm you didn’t know you needed until he gives it to you, forcing you to ride the thick, hard shape straining against his pants-

Just the right angle. Just the right friction.

So perfect it catches your clit every single time, knocks a gasp right out of your throat, straight into his mouth.

You’re soaking through your panties. You’re shaking with it. And it clearly gets to him - God, it wrecks him.

You can feel it - the way he tenses under you, the way his hands clutch harder at your ass, the way his cock throbs against you through the fabric like he’s just barely holding on.

He bites down on your bottom lip, rougher than you expect. Too rough for a man who apologizes when he says fuck.

He holds it between his teeth, sucks it – hard - humming low and filthy against your mouth, so obscene it makes your hips stutter.

Drop.

Just enough to let your soaked cunt drag across the swollen head of his cock.

And when you grind back, slower, tracing right along the thick ridge straining against his zipper, he chokes on a breath.

“God, fuck-”

It tears out of him, raw, as if he’s almost embarrassed by how much pleasure is tangled in it, by how stupidly sincere it comes out of his mouth.

(Also, thank God he didn’t reverse it. If he’d said “fuck, God,” instead, you’re pretty sure he would’ve stopped everything, dropped to his knees, and asked you to drive him to a confessional. Not even a metaphor - actual church. Actual guilt. Actual “forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”)

He tilts his head back, groaning, neck arching against the pillow - exposed, gorgeous - and you completely lose it.

Your tongue drags over his throat, chasing the pulse hammering under his skin, tracing your way back up to his mouth.

He’s so hot. He’s so good. He’s-

…terrified.

"I'm so sorry," he breathes, suddenly sitting up on his elbows. “I-” 

He fumbles. He panics. He stands. Backs away from the couch. From you. Visibly blushing. Visibly mortified.

“I didn’t mean-“

He doesn’t finish the sentence...

…Because he finished in his pants instead.

Poor thing.

You should be a little cruel about it - he was an asshole earlier, after all - but you’re not quite mean enough to kick a wounded 6’2” puppy when he’s already limping. (No pun intended… or maybe-)

"Hey," you murmur, reaching out, curling your fingers around his wrist so he can’t backpedal any further. He flinches. (Not much. Just enough to make you want to kiss him again. Harder this time. Until he flinches worse.)

"It’s okay. It’s-" You almost say sweet - catch yourself just in time, because you’re not trying to get murdered tonight.

"It’s normal," you settle on instead. "It’s flattering. Honestly.” (Also kind of hot. But you’ll take that particular confession to your grave.) “You didn’t... ruin anything."

He still doesn’t look convinced. At all. In fact, he looks like he might apologize again, maybe even draft a formal statement and notarize it.

You scramble. “It’s not a big deal, seriously. Who cares if it was-” (You hesitate for half a second, fatal mistake.) "-like, 30 seconds? Could've been 29, right?!”

…Right.

taglist: @beata1108 ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @goorgeousz ; @hayleym1234 ; @ignoreeeeeee ; @justyourusualash ; @khxna ; @kyrathekiller ; @littlemisskavities ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mmmunson ; @mxblobby ; @nikt-wazny-y ; @oxforce ; @percysley ; @person-005 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @softtdaisy ; @softestqueeen ; @thatkidofwarandpeace ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24 ; @who-needs-to-sleep

(I might've missed someone this time, pls tell me in the comments if your name got lost AAAA sorry in advance)

Little reminder that the requests for fleabag!reader are open!! Ok.. I'll go now. Bye.

[bear-yawns]

　𝗣𝗢𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗘 𝗖𝗔𝗧, 𝗦𝗟𝗘𝗘𝗣𝗬 𝗖𝗔𝗧.　oscar piastri · #81

　　　your boyfriend loves to take naps, and occasionally, you decide to join him.

genres : fluff ... established relationship.　word count : 0.7k.　warnings : none.　 note : my first official f1 fic!! super excited but also nervous to be posting this :') it's the start of a new era <3　　　( masterlist )　( taglist )

Oscar took the chance to nap whenever he could. The constant jetlag messed up his sleep schedule throughout the entire season, so when his body felt tired and there was even 5 minutes to spare, he would take the chance. Lando, not missing any opportunity to tease him about something, said it was because he was still going through growth spurts at twenty-three. 

Given your boyfriend’s habit and love for sleep, you often arrived to see him completely knocked out, whether in the garage, hotel room, or at home. It was endearing, and you had your own way of finding enjoyment in his habit. For instance, your camera roll was overflowing with sleepy Oscar pics; excellent blackmail material if you ever needed it, but most often, you just looked at them whenever you missed him. But your favourite part of it all was waking him up.

Tousling his hair, poking his cheek, booping his nose, kissing his forehead or lips— your methods were practically endless. A lovesick smile was permanently stuck on your face whenever you heard the groggy mumbles he let out as he woke up or saw his scrunched up face at the feeling of your touch. There was a certain charm to all his clumsy, loserish habits, contrasting so starkly with his confidence on track. There were many sides to Oscar, and you had fallen in love with all of them over the years.

It was around 2PM when you opened the door to your apartment, grocery bags in hand. It had been a day full of miscellaneous errands that you had kept putting off, one of which was stocking up on Oscar’s favourite snacks. Now that the 2024 season was finished and he was back home with you— yours for the next four months— you wanted to cook him some of his favourite meals. You had expected to see Oscar in the kitchen or living room, as he usually was. But the house was unusually quiet as you put away food in the fridge. Though, one look into your bedroom told you where he had been hiding.

After knowing Oscar since you were teenagers, it was unsurprising to you when you found him fast asleep on your bed, hugging your pillow to his chest. You smiled at the sight, figuring he must still be struggling to adjust back to the timezone. With you gone first thing in the morning, there wasn’t anything to keep him awake, either. It was no secret that Oscar was the clingier of you two (quite a problem when it came to races conflicting with your schedule), and for all the hoodies and shirts of his that you stole, he liked your pillows. 

The mere sight of your boyfriend comfortably cosied under the blankets on the bed had you starting to feel drowsy yourself. You hesitated for a second about whether to wake him up, join him, or leave him entirely and drink another cup of coffee to get through the day. But you realized quickly that more than anything, you missed his touch the last couple days. Cuddles to sleep was all you craved for. So with all hesitation gone, you climbed up on the bed, easily slipping your arms around Oscar’s waist, hugging his back. The movement was enough to wake him, and he blinked, slightly dazed as he turned around in your arms. 

“You’re back,” he mumbled, words barely above a whisper before he closed his eyes again like a cat squinting in the sun. You giggled, adjusting the pillows as Oscar nuzzled closer to you. “You smell nice… did you get a new perfume?” 

You smiled, closing your eyes as well as Oscar wrapped his arms around your waist and your hands found their way to his hair. “I did. It’s peach. You like it?” He hummed in confirmation. “Still jet lagged?”

A gentle squeeze from Oscar was all the answer you got, but it was all you needed to understand. With the scent of your perfume, your hands threading through his hair, and a soft kiss pressed to his lips, he was already falling back into his dreamland. You soon followed, wrapped in his arms; close, content, and comfortable.

[maxverstappendefender]

ain't no love in oklahoma // op81 smau

description: twisters actress!reader x op81 but lando is convinced oscar is lying (from request)

a/n: sorry for being completely inactive. life happened and it didn't happen in a good way! i have a huge exam coming up soon so i will most likely still be inactive besides maybe a few short things here and there. anyways first oscar fic so enjoy! all pics found on pinterest, i don't own any

a/n pt2: might do something fun for each day in october but im not sure what so send me some ideas. also might do some more headcannons/blurbs soon here!

requests: closed but feel free to send me some messages since i love talking to you guys

masterlist

liked by oscarpiastri, glenpowell, and 2,927,641 others

youruser: go see twisters!! if you don’t, you suck and you better hope you don’t get stuck in a tornado because there’s useful information in our movie

tagged: glenpowell

view all comments

oscarpiastri: proud of you!!

↳ youruser: 🧡

glenpowell: caption is so real of you

user1: doesn’t yn have a boyfriend? why is she so close to glen?

↳ user2: yes but probably because there’s limited space. yn isn’t like that

↳ oscarpiastri: exactly what user2 said

landonorris: cute!

↳ user3: what are you doing here??

↳ user4: lando in the comments?

user5: such a good movie

user6: yn + glen = power duo

liked by youruser, landonorris, and 3,951,750 others

oscarpiastri: proud boyfriend award goes to me 🏆 thx for all the bts selfies

tagged: youruser, glenpowell

view all comments

landonorris: i just laughed out loud

landonorris: “boyfriend” lmaooo

↳ user7: i cant tell if he’s joking or serious

user8: cutest couple ever

glenpowell: aww so glad you remembered the time you took me to the aquarium, what a romantic!

↳ youruser: get your own boyfriend capybara

↳ user9: yn CLOCKED him

// lando’s phone//

//

liked by mclaren, oscarpiastri, and 4,027,835 others

landonorris: POLE BABYYYY!!! everyone ignore my teammates instagram posts, i have told him to stop. i think he took a hit to the head or something

view all comments

oscarpiastri: do you want to go to the farm or not?

↳ landonorris: you already said i could go so no take backs

↳ user10: lando is going to yn's farm??

↳ user11: LANDO'S MEETING YN?!

↳ user12: oh i know he's going to fangirl so hard

user13: get me someone who looks at me the way oscar looks at lando

↳ user14: are we sure that they aren't the ones dating?

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 3,017,426 others

youruser: back home finally! pic 1: yeehaw. pic 2: my cat cora had her babies!!! pic 3: dinner date :)

tagged: oscarpiastri

view all comments

user15: CORA HAD HER KITTIES

↳ youruser: i am officially a grandma. i feel the gray hairs coming in now

user16: oscar and yn are endgame

oscarpiastri: the best company

↳ landonorris: STOP, idk how you got her in on this joke either

↳ user16: i can't tell if lando knows they are actually dating and is joking or if he truly does not believe oscar

user17: boyfriend is back on the feed!

↳ user18: farmer yn is back on the feed!

glenpowell: miss you lady

↳ youruser: you miss my animals more

↳ glenpowell: and what about it.

liked by youruser, oscarpiastri, and 4,209,384 others

landonorris: OMG HE WASN'T LYING i got to feed so many animals, got to channel my inner cowboy, AND get drunk with the yn? i can die a happy man

tagged: youruser

view all comments

oscarpiastri: believe me now?

↳ landonorris: never doubted you

↳ user19: lando seriously didn't believe oscar lol

↳ user20: i fully thought he was joking the entire time

user21: how hard did you fangirl to meet yn, lando?

↳ landonorris: surprised i didn't pass out honestly. i facetimed GLEN POWELL

youruser: so glad you had a fun time!!

liked by youruser, landonorris, and 3,298,361 others

oscarpiastri: everyone clear that this is my girlfriend?

tagged: youruser

view all comments

user22: sassy oscar

↳ user23: channeling his inner lando

landonorris: yes sir 🫡

↳ oscarpiastri: stop being weird ?

youruser: MY MANNNNN

↳ user24: oh she's in deep

user25: there is one thing oscar doesn't play about in life: yn

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 4,208,763 others

youruser: didn't even know there was confusion that this was my boyfriend lol

tagged: oscarpiastri

view all comments

landonorris: how was i meant to know?!

↳ user26: literally how everyone else knew, instagram.

glenpowell: yn stop posting pics of me and my boyfriend and acting like he's yours

↳ youruser: i dont like this joke.

↳ oscarpiastri: bromance or whatever

↳ user27: they're in a throuple

↳ youruser: ew

↳ glenpowell: disgusting

↳ oscarpiastri: huhhh

user28: couple goals forever and ever

user29: if they don't get married... love isn't real

[scarletwinterxx]

magnets - choi seungcheol imagine 2/2

hellooooo ~ and here we are. thank you to all those who waited and loved the first part. tight hugs to all of you! may we all find love like this irl🤍

tbh the longest story I HAVE EVER WRITTEN. i hope you enjoy it🤍for part 1, click here

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)

The days that followed were… different.

Not in a dramatic, world-altering way, but in small, quiet shifts that felt almost imperceptible if you weren’t paying attention.

For one, Seungcheol didn’t push. He didn’t bombard you with texts, didn’t corner you into a conversation you weren’t ready for. He gave you space but remained present in the ways that mattered. And somehow, it was worse than outright confrontation.

Because this wasn’t the Seungcheol you’d prepared yourself for. This wasn’t the pushy, arrogant, untouchable man people whispered about.

This was someone who was willing to wait.

Of course it was Jeonghan who finally called you out on it.

“You’re sulking,” he said flatly one night, stretched out on your couch with a bowl of popcorn. “And don’t say you’re not because I’ve known you too long for that lie to work.”

You glared at him from your spot on the floor, cross-legged and stubborn. “I’m not sulking.”

Jeonghan popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth. “Right. And I’m a morning person.”

There was a beat of silence before Jeonghan sighed and sat up properly, setting his bowl aside. “Okay, let’s try this another way. Why are you still running?”

You scowled. “I’m not—”

He shot you a look. “Don’t lie to me.”

You pressed your lips together, feeling cornered. “I’m not running. I just…” You exhaled sharply, struggling to find the words. “I don’t know how to trust this.”

Jeonghan softened slightly. “Trust what?”

“That it’s real.”

He studied you for a long moment before speaking again. “I get it,” he said, and somehow, that was worse than him arguing. “After everything, I get why it’s hard to believe someone when they say they won’t leave.”

“But, you know,” he continued, “there’s a difference between being careful and shutting people out completely.”

You scoffed. “This coming from you?”

Jeonghan smirked. “What can I say? I’m evolving.”

"Okay Charizard" you rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. After a pause, Jeonghan’s voice turned quieter. “He’s not your past, you know.”

You swallowed, throat suddenly tight. “I know.”

“Do you?” You didn’t answer.

The days that followed you found yourself stuck in a loop of indecision.

You weren’t actively avoiding Seungcheol anymore, you told yourself it was because you were busy—work had picked up, your schedule was packed, and frankly, you weren’t in the mood to deal with whatever emotional battlefield is going on inside your head.

But Jeonghan’s words had burrowed deep. "He’s not your past."

It should have been easy to accept. Seungcheol wasn’t them. He hadn’t walked away, hadn’t dismissed your feelings, hadn’t made you feel like you were too much or not enough at the same time.

Still, knowing that and believing it were two different things. You're aware that the only person making it complicated at this point is, because for him, liking you is as easy as 1 2 3.

One random day he texted,

Seungcheol: Are you free Friday? Seungcheol: If you’re not, it’s okay.

You stared at the messages longer than necessary, fingers hovering over the keyboard. And then, before you could think too hard about it—before you could talk yourself out of it—you typed out a reply.

You: where are we going?

Friday night, you found yourself standing outside a tiny, quiet restaurant tucked into a side street, arms crossed as you waited.

You weren’t sure what to expect. The last time you’d properly talked, you’d been pushing him away. Now, he was here again, proving that no matter how much distance you tried to put between you, he wasn’t going to let you disappear so easily.

“Nice choice,” he said, glancing at the restaurant. “You trying to make sure I can’t impress you with an expensive dinner?”

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t impress me in general.”

He chuckled. “Sure.”

You turned toward the entrance, pretending you weren’t affected by how effortlessly charming he was. “Come on.”

Dinner started off… civil. You talked about safe topics—work, Jeonghan’s latest antics, Mingyu’s questionable life choices. It was easy, familiar, almost like nothing had happened between you.

But of course, that was never going to last.

“You’re still shutting me out,” Seungcheol said suddenly, mid-conversation.

You froze, fingers tightening around your glass. “I’m not.”

“You are,” he countered. “You’ve been doing it since the beginning.” Seungcheol leaned back, watching you with that unreadable expression that made you want to both slap and kiss him. “What are you so scared of?”

You scoffed. “I’m not scared.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You know what’s funny? You keep saying you don’t care, but you do. And it’s killing you trying to pretend otherwise.”

Your fingers curled into fists. “If I do, will you leave?”

Seungcheol’s expression didn’t change. “No.”

No hesitation. No doubt. Just a simple, steady refusal.

You hated how much that made your chest ache. And just like that, the walls you had built so carefully started to crack.

You exhaled sharply, pressing your fingers against your temple. “I’m being difficult.”

Seungcheol leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I know.”

You glared at him. “You’re supposed to argue.”

“Why? You already know it’s true. Atleast now you can admit it”

You clicked your tongue, looking away. The restaurant was cozy, dimly lit, a quiet contrast to the storm brewing inside your head. “I don’t know why you’re still here.”

He tilted his head, studying you. “Because I want to be.”

You scoffed. “Yeah? Even when I keep pushing you away?”

“Yes.”

You stared at him, waiting for the usual signs of frustration, the ones you were so used to seeing from people when you made things difficult. But there was nothing. No irritation, no exasperation. Just Seungcheol, calm and steady, like he had all the time in the world.

After dinner Seungcheol walked beside you, hands tucked in his coat pockets, the cool night air making his breath visible in the dim streetlights. it was quiet. Comfortable.

Then, out of nowhere, he smirked and nudged you lightly with his elbow. "What happened to the girl who walked up to me at the bar all confident?"

You raised an eyebrow at him. "What about her?"

He shrugged, feigning innocence. "Just wondering where she went. Thought she had me all figured out that night."

You exhaled a laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah, well… turns out, I bit off more than I could chew."

Seungcheol chuckled at that, glancing at you with something unreadable in his eyes. "Regretting it?"

You hesitated for half a second. "No." It was quiet again for a few beats, your footsteps echoing against the pavement.

Then, softer this time, he asked, "So what now?"

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you looked up at the sky, at the way the city lights drowned out the stars.

"Good question," you muttered.

Seungcheol stopped walking, causing you to take a few more steps before realizing and turning back to face him. His hands were still in his pockets, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes were locked onto yours, steady and unwavering.

"You keep running from me," he said, voice quieter now, but firm. "You keep pushing me away, shutting me out, making me prove myself over and over again. And I’ll keep doing it if that’s what it takes."

"I know you're scared," he continued. "I know you think this is going to end the way it always does. But I’m not them. I’m not going to leave just because things get complicated. I’m not going to get tired of you just because you have bad days. And I’m sure as hell not going to stop wanting you just because you're difficult."

Your throat felt tight. You hated how much those words affected you. How much you needed to hear them.

"You don’t have to let me in all at once," he said. "But stop pretending you don’t care when you do. Stop acting like this doesn't mean something to you when it does."

He stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him despite the chilly air. "You can tell me, let me know if I’m waiting for nothing. Then I'll go"

Your heart was pounding now, an erratic rhythm you couldn't control.

"You’re not," you admitted quietly.

Something flickered in his eyes, relief mixed with something deeper, something warmer.

"Good," he murmured. 

At first, it was small things.

A text here and there—nothing too much, nothing that would make you feel like you were giving in too quickly. You didn’t realize when it started shifting, when you stopped bracing for him to leave and started expecting him to stay.

One night, it was you who called first.

"You busy?" you asked, voice softer than you meant it to be.

Seungcheol chuckled on the other end of the line. "No. Missing me already?"

You rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see. "Forget it."

"Wait, wait," he said, laughter still in his voice. "Tell me."

You hesitated. "I just... felt like calling"

You didn't need to say it, he knew what it meant in your dictionary or atleast from what he learned so far. You wanted to talk, you're reaching out to him first and that made him smile.

There was a brief pause, then, "Stay where you are. I’m coming over."

And just like that, it became normal.

Some nights, he’d show up with takeout, and the two of you would eat in comfortable silence. Other times, you'd find yourself leaning into him when he sat next to you, your head against his shoulder without thinking. He never commented on it, never teased. He just let you.

One afternoon, after a long day, you called him again.

"Are you home?"

"Yeah," he said immediately. "You okay?"

"I don't know."

He was quiet for a moment. "Come over."

It wasn’t some grand confession, wasn’t some dramatic shift. It was just that—getting used to him. Letting yourself reach for him the way he had always reached for you. The moment Seungcheol opened the door, he took one look at you and sighed.

“You look like hell.” he says when you got to his apartment, holding the door open for you

“Wow, thanks,” you muttered, brushing past him

He didn’t argue, just closed the door behind you and followed you inside. His place was warm, dimly lit, the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. You stood there for a second, suddenly unsure why you even came.

“Did you eat?” he asked, already heading toward the kitchen

You shook your head.

“Didn’t think so,” he muttered, grabbing something from the fridge. You heard him moving around, the quiet clink of plates and the sound of water running.

You sat on the couch, letting your head fall back against the cushions. The weight of the week settled on you, exhaustion creeping in, but you fought it. Seungcheol came back minutes later, setting a plate of food and a glass of water in front of you.

“Eat first,” he said, sitting beside you.

You frowned. “I didn’t come here for food.”

“No, but you need it,” he countered. “And you need sleep, too. Don’t try to deny it.”

You glared at him, but it was weak. You were too tired to argue. “You really think I came here just to crash on your couch?”

“No,” he said, watching you carefully. “I think you came here because you didn’t want to be alone.”

Your fingers tightened around the glass of water. He wasn’t wrong.

When you were done, he took the plate without a word, disappearing into the kitchen. You let yourself sink deeper into the couch, your eyelids growing heavier. By the time he came back, you were barely awake, your body losing the fight against exhaustion.

“Told you,” he murmured, sitting next to you again.

You mumbled something incoherent, your head tilting to the side—against him. You didn’t mean to. But you were too tired to move, too tired to think. And he was warm, solid, steady.

Seungcheol didn’t say anything, just shifted slightly so you were more comfortable. And for the first time in days, you finally felt like you could rest.

Seungcheol didn’t move for a while. He just sat there, watching as your breathing evened out, your face finally softening from the tension you’d been carrying all week.

You came to him.

Not to fight. Not to push him away.

You came to him because you were tired, because you didn’t want to be alone, because—even if you wouldn’t say it out loud—you trusted him enough to just… be here.

That meant something.

His hand twitched like he wanted to reach out, to brush the hair out of your face, but he held himself back. You were already asleep, and he wasn’t about to wake you up now.

Instead, he just sighed, shifting slightly so you were more comfortable against him.

“Stubborn as hell,” he muttered under his breath, though there was no real bite to it.

If someone had told him back then, on the night you first met, that the confident, sharp-tongued person who strutted up to him in a bar would be the same one sleeping against his shoulder now, he would’ve laughed.

But here you were.

And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like he had to fight to keep you close.

You were slipping. your head tilting lower, the weight of exhaustion making you lean into him without a second thought. Before you could slip too far, he moved, instinct guiding him as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you in until your head rested against his chest.

And you didn’t even stir. Didn’t tense up. Didn’t fight it. Just stayed there, completely at ease against him. He let out a slow breath, his hand resting lightly against your back, fingers twitching slightly like he wasn’t sure if he should move or not.

This was new.

You letting him hold you. Trusting him enough to fall asleep on him.

Seungcheol leaned his head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling for a moment before glancing down at you again.

The first thing you register when you wake up is warmth.

The second thing is the steady rise and fall beneath your cheek. Your eyes snap open, and the moment you realize you’re still on Seungcheol, still curled into his side, your entire body goes rigid.

“Oh my god—” You practically throw yourself off of him, scrambling upright so fast that you almost trip over your own feet.

Seungcheol groans, his hand moving to his neck, rolling it slightly like he’s trying to work out a knot. “Good morning to you too.”

“I—” Your heart is racing. “I didn’t mean to—I wasn’t—”

He watches you, amused, as you struggle for words, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Didn’t mean to what? Fall asleep?”

You stare at him, still half in shock, like you’re just now registering that you slept on him all night.

“Exactly! I didn’t mean to do that!” Your voice is slightly panicked. “I just—oh my god, I used you as a pillow.”

Seungcheol stretches, the corners of his lips twitching like he’s holding back a grin. “I noticed.”

You groan, pressing your hands to your face. “I’m so sorry. You probably have a neck cramp—”

“Oh, I definitely do.” He cracks his neck for emphasis.

You wince. “Ugh, I’m really, really sorry.”

He just looks at you, amusement laced in his voice as he leans back against the couch. “You gonna keep apologizing all morning?”

“Maybe.”

A few days later when you were out getting food, Jeonghan texted he was dropping by. When you return to your apartment, takeout bags in hand, you expected Jeonghan to be there waiting. What you didn't expect was Seungcheol sitting across from him. 

The tension in the air is palpable, and Jeonghan looks far too smug for your liking, while Seungcheol looks—annoyed? Amused? It’s hard to tell.

You blink at them. “Uh… what is happening?”

Jeonghan leans back against the couch, arms crossed. “Your boyfriend came to visit.”

You scowl. “He’s not my— Never mind. Why are you here, Cheol?”

Seungcheol stands, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I wanted to see you.”

Before you can respond, Jeonghan cuts in. “He was just telling me about the night you fell asleep at his place.”

Your stomach drops. “Oh my god.”

Jeonghan smirks. “Did you know he was shocked that you actually slept well?”

Your eyes snap to Seungcheol, who is watching you carefully. “You—” You pause, shifting awkwardly. “I mean, it wasn’t a big deal.”

“It was a big deal.” Jeonghan hums. “Because she usually doesn’t sleep well.” He looks at you.

“You never told me you had it that bad.” Seungcheol is still looking at you, his gaze softer now.

You roll your shoulders, avoiding his gaze. “It’s not that bad.”

He sighs, stepping closer. “He said you only get four hours of interrupted sleep, if that.”

You groan. “Can you both stop?”

But Jeonghan is looking at Seungcheol with something like understanding now. “And yet, she slept well with you?”

Seungcheol nods. “Didn’t even wake up once.”

Jeonghan lets out a low chuckle. “Damn.” He glances at you. “Looks like you’re screwed.”

You glare. “How?”

Jeonghan gestures lazily between you and Seungcheol. “Because you like him. And your subconscious trusts him.” He grins. “And knowing Cheol? He’s not letting that go.”

You groan again, pressing your forehead against the door. “I should’ve stayed outside.”

Seungcheol chuckles, stepping even closer, voice softer now. “I don’t mind.”

You peek at him, hesitant. “Don’t mind what?”

He shrugs. “Being the person you can actually rest with.”

And that—that’s the moment you realize you’re in deeper than you ever planned to be. You don’t say anything for a moment, just stare at Seungcheol, feeling your heartbeat pick up. Then you turn sharply to Jeonghan, who is looking way too pleased with himself.

"Get out."

Jeonghan snorts. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." You point to the door. "Get. Out."

Jeonghan laughs, standing up. "Wow. I help you realize your feelings, and this is the thanks I get?"

"You’re not helping."

"Sure I am," he says, already grabbing his things and the take out bag. He turns to Seungcheol with an exaggerated pat on his shoulder. "Take care of our girl, yeah?"

Seungcheol smirks. "I plan to."

You shove Jeonghan toward the door. "Out!"

He barely dodges your foot as you fake a kick at him. "Alright, alright, I’m going! No need to get violent." He winks. "You two have fun." You slam the door in his face, exhaling hard before turning back to Seungcheol, who is now watching you with his usual unreadable expression.

"Sorry about him," you mutter, rubbing your temples.

Seungcheol just shrugs. "I don’t mind." Of course, he doesn’t.

You cross your arms, still feeling the remnants of irritation from Jeonghan’s meddling. “So? Why’d you drop by?”

Seungcheol leans back against your couch like he has all the time in the world. “You weren’t answering my texts.”

You blink. “That’s it?”

His lips twitch slightly, like he’s amused. “You usually text back, even if it’s just to tell me to go away.”

You look away, suddenly feeling warm. “I was busy. And you didn’t just come all the way here because of a few missed texts, Seungcheol.”

He shrugs. “Maybe I did.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You have a company to run. You don’t have time for things like this.”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You don’t think you’re worth my time?”

You freeze. That wasn’t what you meant, but now, hearing it like that… You shift awkwardly. “That’s not—”

“Because you are,” he says, completely serious now. “And I don’t mind making time for you.”

Your throat feels suddenly tight, so you break eye contact, looking anywhere but at him. “…You’re annoying.”

He chuckles. “You say that a lot.”

You huff, turning toward the kitchen. “Whatever. I’m getting something to drink.”

As you walk away, you don’t see his smile soften, but you do hear him say, “I’ll take a coffee if you’re offering.”

As you set down a cup of coffee in front of him, Seungcheol watches you closely. His voice, quieter now, carries none of the teasing from earlier.

“Is it true?”

“What?”

He tilts his head, studying you. “What Jeonghan said. That you don’t sleep well.”

Your fingers tighten slightly around your own cup. You shouldn’t be surprised—of course Jeonghan would tell him. But something about hearing it from Seungcheol, hearing him ask so gently, makes your stomach twist.

You exhale, feigning nonchalance. “It’s not a big deal.”

“That’s not an answer.”

You sigh, setting your cup down. “It’s true. I’ve had trouble sleeping for a long time. Four hours on a good night, but it’s usually not restful.” You try to sound casual, but admitting it out loud feels weirdly vulnerable.

Seungcheol’s jaw tightens, like he’s holding something back. “And the other night? When you fell asleep on me?”

You hesitate, then force yourself to shrug. “I guess I was just really tired.”

He hums, swirling his coffee absently. “Or maybe you finally felt safe enough to sleep properly.”

His words make you freeze. Seungcheol watches you carefully, then speaks again, even softer. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You scoff lightly, trying to cover the sudden, unsteady feeling creeping in. “It’s not exactly first-date conversation.”

He smirks, but there’s no real amusement in it. “We skipped that part anyway.”

You roll your eyes, but he doesn’t let it go. “I mean it,” he says. “If it’s something you struggle with… I want to know. I want to help.” Your heart clenches. You’re not used to this—someone caring this much. 

You exhale, looking away. “It’s just how it’s always been. I got used to it.”

Seungcheol watches you for a moment, then leans back, stretching an arm along the back of your couch. “That doesn’t mean you have to deal with it alone.” A strange warmth settles in your chest. You don’t respond right away, but for the first time in a long time, you think maybe—just maybe—you don’t have to.

Seungcheol is naturally thoughtful, in his own way. The way he takes up space in your life has always been subtle yet persistent. But then, you start noticing more.

It’s little things at first. A new set of blackout curtains showing up at your place with a casual, “Figured they might help,” when he drops by. A bottle of melatonin on your kitchen counter that wasn’t there before, though he never mentions it. One night, when you’re at his place, you find a weighted blanket neatly folded at the end of his couch. You give him a suspicious look, but he just shrugs. “Jeonghan said it helps,” is all he says.

And then there are the nights.

You don’t even realize it at first, but he starts staying later. It’s not obvious—he doesn’t make a big deal out of it. Some nights, when you’re curled up on his couch, watching some random movie, you doze off without meaning to and he doesn’t wake you up.

It only clicks when, one night, you stir awake just enough to register the warmth at your side, the solid presence of Seungcheol beside you. His arm is draped loosely over the back of the couch, but his fingers are grazing your shoulder lightly, like he’s debating moving you or just staying still.

Then, carefully you feel him shift just enough to pull a blanket over you. His fingers brush against your arm for a second before he stills completely.

The next morning, when you wake up in your own bed, you realize—he must’ve carried you there before leaving. For the first time in a long time, you’re sleeping better. And you know it’s because of him.

Another night, something unexpected happened. Your fingers are barely grasping the hem of his shirt, like even in your half-asleep state, you don’t want to let go.

He looks down at you—your face relaxed in sleep, your breathing even. It’s rare to see you like this, vulnerable and unguarded. He knows how much you struggle to sleep, how restless your nights usually are. And yet, tonight, you’re not just asleep—you’re at peace.

And you want him to stay.

He swallows, hesitating. His instinct is to leave, to give you space, to not push. But then, your grip tightens just slightly.

“Stay,” you murmur, voice barely audible.

His chest tightens.

He exhales softly before finally relenting. He carefully shifts, settling back onto the couch beside you. You naturally gravitate toward him, your head resting against his shoulder. He doesn’t dare move, doesn’t want to break the moment.

Minutes pass, and then, without thinking, he reaches for the blanket draped over the back of the couch and pulls it over the both of you.

You sigh, a content little sound that makes his heart clench.

Seungcheol stares at the ceiling for a long time, completely still. He was supposed to leave. But instead, he stays.

The morning light filters softly through your curtains, casting a golden hue over the room. You blink groggily, your body warm and comfortable in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. You’re in your room now, that’s when you notice him.

Seungcheol is still asleep beside you. For a moment, you just stare. His breathing is slow and steady, his face completely relaxed. The sight is… nice. Too nice.

The second he sees you awake, his lips curl into a lazy smile. “Morning,” he murmurs, voice still thick with sleep. 

Then, before you can stop yourself, you mumble, “I like your dimples.”

It’s soft, barely above a whisper, but he hears it. Seungcheol’s smile widens, and just like that,  his dimples deepen. You immediately bury your face into the pillow, realizing what you just said.

He chuckles, his voice still husky. “You like my dimples?”

You groan. “Forget it.”

“Nope,” he says, his amusement clear. “Too late. You said it.”

You peek at him from the pillow, your cheeks warm. He’s still smiling, still looking at you with that soft, fond expression. It makes your heart stutter.

You don’t talk about that night—not really—but you feel it lingering in the air, in the way he looks at you a second too long, in the way your body leans just a little closer to his without thinking.

He still checks in on you, still sends those random texts that somehow always come right when you need them. He still helps you sleep—whether it’s subtle things like sending you links to calming music or, on the nights you really struggle, staying until you doze off.

And then there’s you.

You find yourself texting him first sometimes. You don’t push him away when he’s close. You even catch yourself looking at him a little too long, memorizing the curve of his smile, the shape of his eyes, the way he somehow always smells really, really nice.

You don’t know when it happened, when he became someone you reach for instead of push away but it’s happening.

It’s a slow, quiet weekend. The kind where you don’t feel like doing much, so instead of going out, you’re at his place.

Seungcheol is on the couch, arm draped lazily along the backrest while you sit beside him, legs tucked under you. Your mind drifts, thinking about something, debating whether or not to ask.

You hesitate. You open your mouth, then close it. And of course, he catches it.

“What?” he asks, turning his head slightly toward you.

“Nothing,” you mumble, shaking your head.

But Seungcheol isn’t the type to let things go so easily. His hand finds your waist, tugging you just a little closer. “No, come on. What is it?”

You fidget, suddenly feeling ridiculous for even thinking about it. “It’s stupid.”

He scoffs. “You do realize I put up with your so-called ‘stupidity’ on a daily basis, right?”

You roll your eyes. “Great way to convince me to talk, Cheol.”

He chuckles, squeezing your waist lightly in encouragement. “Okay, okay. I’m serious. What is it?”

You hesitate again, fingers fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “I just… I wanted to know your favorites.”

“My favorites?”

“Yeah. Like… your favorite color, favorite food, drink—just… everything.” You shift, feeling a little embarrassed now. “But I didn’t want to sound annoying.”

Seungcheol stares at you for a moment, and then he groans. Like you just physically pained him. Like you just did something devastating.

You blink. “What?”

He grabs your face, thumb brushing over your cheek. “Do you even realize how cute you are right now?”

You push at his chest, groaning. “Oh my god, Cheol.”

“No, seriously.” He pulls you closer, practically caging you in. “You’re pouting. You’re actually pouting. Do you even know what you’re doing to me right now?”

“I was trying to be serious!”

“I am serious.” He presses a quick kiss to your forehead, grinning. “You’re adorable. And for the record, you could never be annoying.”

The action felt so natural you didn't even register what he did. You just let yourself relax against him. “So, tell me then.”

He hums, pretending to think. “Well, my favorite color is black.”

“Figures.”

“My favorite food…” He pauses, then smirks. “Lately, anything you make.”

You scoff. “Liar.”

“I’m dead serious. Even when you mess up, it’s good.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t fight the warmth spreading through your chest. “Okay, what about your favorite drink?”

“Hm. Coffee, obviously.”

You nod, committing each answer to memory. You keep going, asking about little things—his favorite season, his favorite scent, even his favorite childhood memory. And he answers every single one. Somewhere in the middle of it, you rest your head against his shoulder, and he lets you.

Eventually, he asks, “Why the sudden curiosity?”

“Just wanted to know more about you.”

He chuckles, resting his chin atop your head. “Then ask me anything, anytime. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Just the faint hum of the TV and the steady rhythm of his breathing beside you. Your head is still resting on his shoulder, and his fingers are tracing mindless patterns along your sleeve.

And then, so softly, you whisper, "Why do you like me?"

You don’t know why you ask. Maybe it’s been lingering in your mind for too long, sitting in the back of your thoughts, waiting for a moment like this to slip out. Maybe you’ve been too scared to say it until now.

Seungcheol doesn’t answer right away. You feel him shift slightly, his head tilting down toward you. His fingers stop their slow tracing. Then, slowly, his arms tighten around you, pulling you in closer, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

And finally, he smiles.

“Because it’s you.” Simple. Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like it was never even a question to begin with.

Your heart stumbles.

He keeps going, voice quieter now, like he’s letting you in on a secret. “You don’t even realize it, do you? The way you pull people in without even trying. The way you act all guarded, but deep down, you care so much it hurts. You pretend to be tough, but you—” He exhales a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You’re probably the softest person I know.”

You swallow, suddenly unable to breathe properly.

“You make people want to stay,” he says, gaze warm, unwavering. “You make me want to stay.”

Your chest feels too tight, your throat closing up. It’s overwhelming, too much and not enough at the same time so you don’t say anything.

You just press your face into his shoulder, gripping onto his sleeve like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. He doesn’t push. He just holds you a little tighter. He doesn’t say anything for a while, just lets you bury yourself against him. His fingers move again, slow and steady along your back, tracing something soothing.

And then, in the quiet, he asks—

"What about you?"

His voice is soft, careful. Like he’s giving you a choice. Like he knows you could still push him away if you wanted to. You stay still, trying to ignore the way your heart is suddenly racing.

Seungcheol waits.

You don’t look at him when you mumble, “What do you mean?” 

“You asked me why I like you," he says. "So now I want to know—" He leans in just slightly, enough for his breath to brush against your hair. "Why do you like me?"

You tense. He must feel it, because his arms stay firm around you, like he’s telling you it’s okay. That he’s not going anywhere. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

Because what are you supposed to say? That you like the way he makes you feel safe, even when you’re scared? That you like the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the room? That you like how, even when you try to push him away, he stays?

"I don't know."

Seungcheol hums, but he doesn’t sound disappointed.

"You do," he says, amused. "You're just not ready to say it to me yet but that's okay" he bumps the tip of your nose with his finger

That makes your stomach flip. You finally look up at him, and he's already watching you. Not expectantly, not impatiently. Just there. Waiting. And somehow, that makes you want to say it more.

So you whisper, "I like you because..." You trail off, then exhale, pressing your forehead against his chest.

He chuckles. "Because what?"

You groan again. "I don’t know. Because you’re you.”

Seungcheol stills then you feel him smile against your hair, arms pulling you in tighter. He understood what that meant for he said the same thing, but in his mind it meant more and maybe that's how you felt too. But he doesn't push instead he presses his lips against your hair

"Okay," he says, voice full of something you can’t quite place. "I’ll take that."

You don’t know why you do it.

Maybe it’s the warmth of his arms around you, the way he looks at you like you’re something precious. Maybe it’s the way your heart has been hammering against your ribs since he asked but before you can think, before you can stop yourself, you lean in.

A quick press of your lips against his.

Soft. Barely there. You pull away almost immediately, heart pounding, and Seungcheol just blinks at you. Like you’ve stunned him. Like he wasn’t expecting it at all.

And maybe that should make you panic, but instead, you just breathe

"Because you make me feel safe."

Seungcheol’s eyes widen. You don’t stop.

"Because you always stay, even when I push you away. Because you don’t make me feel stupid for being scared." Your voice is quieter now, almost shaky. "Because I sleep better when you’re around."

Seungcheol exhales sharply, jaw tightening. His hands flex against your waist, like he’s holding himself back.

But you’re not done.

"And because—” You swallow, forcing yourself to look at him, to really look at him. “—because I think I like you more than I’m ready to admit."

Something shifts in his expression. And then he moves. His hand lifts, fingers threading gently through your hair, tilting your face up.

"Can I kiss you?" His voice is rough, barely a whisper. You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nod. And then his lips are on yours, slow and deep and warm.

And this time, you don’t pull away. You don’t know how long you stay like that. kissing him, feeling the warmth of his hands steady on your waist, his breath mingling with yours.

It’s slow, unrushed, like he has all the time in the world for you. When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless. He presses his forehead against yours, his hands still holding you close. His eyes are closed, like he’s savoring this moment, like he’s trying to commit every second to memory.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this," he murmurs.

Your fingers tighten around his hoodie. "Have you?"

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his gaze soft but serious. "Yeah. Since the first night I met you."

You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head. "Liar."

"I’m not lying." His thumb brushes over your cheek, his touch unbearably gentle. "You walked up to me, all confident, all fire. And I knew I was in trouble."

You roll your eyes, but your heart is thudding painfully in your chest.

"I’m serious," he says, tilting his head. "You think you’re the only one who got caught up in something bigger than they expected?"

You don’t know how to respond to that. So you just stay there, pressed against him, his warmth seeping into you.

Eventually, he sighs, pulling you even closer, until your head rests against his chest.

"Are you going to run away again?" he asks, voice quieter now.

You hesitate. Then, with a small shake of your head, you mumble against his hoodie, "Not this time."

Seungcheol chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Good," he whispers. "Because I’m not letting you go."

A few days passed since then.

You’re mid-story, animatedly recounting something that happened at work. something about a ridiculous customer complaint and how Jihyo nearly lost her mind handling it. You’re laughing, shaking your head as you lean back against the passenger seat

“So then, Jihyo turns to me and goes, ‘Do you think your boyfriend would cover bail if I strangled this guy?’ And I was like—”

You don’t notice the slip.

But he does.

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything at first, but his grip tightens just slightly on the steering wheel. His lips twitch like he’s holding back a smirk. You keep talking, unaware, until the silence stretches just a little too long, and you finally glance at him.

“What?” You frown at his expression, at the barely concealed amusement in his eyes.

He hums, tilting his head slightly. “Nothing.”

You narrow your eyes. “No, what?”

He shrugs, but that damn smirk is there now, full and knowing. “Just thinking about what you just said.”

Your brows furrow, replaying the conversation in your head—until it clicks. Your eyes widen slightly.

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he repeats, mockingly

Your face heats up instantly, and you groan, covering it with your hands. “Forget it. I misspoke.”

“Mmm,” he hums, clearly unconvinced. “I don’t know. Boyfriend, huh?”

You glare at him from behind your fingers. “You heard nothing.”

He chuckles, so pleased with himself. “I definitely did.”

You groan louder, sinking into the seat, but he just reaches over, lacing his fingers through yours as he drives.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand. “I like the sound of it.”

You grumble under your breath, something about him not even asking you. Seungcheol hears it, of course. He always hears everything.

“What was that?” he asks, tilting his head slightly.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, looking out the window.

He scoffs, giving your hand another squeeze. “No, no, I definitely heard you.”

You sigh, shifting in your seat. “Just saying... You didn’t even ask me.”

He chuckles, amused. “Didn’t think I had to. Thought it was obvious.”

You turn to him, raising a brow. “Oh? And what exactly is obvious?”

“That you’re mine,” he says smoothly, like it’s the simplest truth in the world.

“Cocky.”

He smirks, glancing at you as he slows at a red light. “So? Are you saying I should ask?”

You cross your arms, pretending to think. “Maybe. It’s the proper thing to do, you know. Can’t just go around assuming.”

He hums, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “Alright then.” He turns to you fully, eyes soft yet unwavering. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

You blink. You weren’t actually expecting him to ask—at least not now. A beat of silence passes. And you just reach for his hand, he smiles looking down at your intertwined hands.

Dating Seungcheol is both a blessing and a menace. Most days, he’s a teasing little shit, poking fun at you, making sly comments just to see you get flustered. But then there are moments—fleeting but potent—where you do something that makes him completely malfunction.

Like now.

It’s like the universe is testing Seungcheol. You don’t even notice. Just plop onto his couch, tugging your knees up, he’s across from you, jaw clenched so tightly it might snap, fingers curled into a fist against his thigh.

“You okay?” you ask, tilting your head.

He exhales through his nose. “Peachy.”

Then there’s the way you touch him so casually, so carelessly. Like now, when you’re leaning over to grab the remote from beside him, palm resting on his thigh for balance. You don’t even think about it. But he does. Oh, he does.

“Sweetheart.” His voice is low, strained.

You pause, remote in hand, blinking at him. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face, trying to focus on anything that isn’t you.

But the universe isn’t done torturing him yet.

Because then there’s the time you’re at his place late at night, exhausted from work, and you decide to shower there  And he’s fine. He really is, until you step out of the bathroom, steam rolling behind you, skin still damp, wearing one of his shirts.

And it’s too much.

You’re rubbing your towel over your hair, completely unaware of the way his gaze darkens. Your legs are bare, your collarbone peeking from where the fabric slips off your shoulder, and when you look up at him and pout because your hair won’t dry properly, he damn near blacks out.

“Come here.” His voice is hoarse.

You step between his legs as he grabs the towel from your hands, gently drying your hair. You close your eyes at the feeling, sighing in content, and something inside him snaps. The towel drops. His fingers card through your damp strands, then skim over your jaw, tilting your face up until your noses are almost touching.

“Why do you do this to me?” he murmurs.

You blink, confused. “Do what?” He exhales sharply, pressing his forehead against yours, trying to steady himself. You’re too close, too soft, too fucking tempting, and you have no idea what you do to him.

He can’t kiss you. He won’t. Not now. Because if he does, he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop. You look at him, genuinely clueless, which makes it so much harder for him.

“No, tell me,” you insist, voice soft but stubborn. You throw your arms around his shoulders, pressing yourself against him like you belong there. Like you have any idea what you’re doing to him.

Seungcheol swallows hard. His hands hover over your waist, unsure whether to pull you closer or push you away before he loses all control. He exhales sharply, eyes flickering between yours and your lips, and fuck you’re looking at him like that, all wide-eyed and waiting, completely oblivious to the war raging inside him.

His fingers tighten around your waist. “Sweetheart,” he warns.

“What?” 

“You,” he murmurs, voice low and thick with restraint. “You drive me insane.”

You blink. “Me?”

He scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “Yes, you.”

You tilt your head, lips pursing in thought. Then, with a teasing smile, you press even closer, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Like… in a good way?”

He groans, dropping his head onto your shoulder, body tense under your touch. “You’re killing me.”

You grin, clearly enjoying this now. “Oh.” You hum, pretending to think. “Should I stop?”

Seungcheol lifts his head, eyes dark as they lock onto yours. “No,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Don’t.”

Instead, you shift, adjusting your position, and in doing so, you press even closer, your breath warm against his jaw. His fingers twitch against your waist. His breathing is uneven now, ragged. You’re playing with fire and you don’t even know it.

You pout. “Why won’t you just tell me?”

He exhales sharply. “Because if I do, I’ll do something reckless.”

Your brows knit together, still oblivious. “Like what?”

One second, you’re tangled in him, his lips hot against yours, his grip firm and possessive. Next, you’re suddenly weightless.

“What the—Cheol!” you yelp as he lifts you effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, your arms clinging to his shoulders. He doesn’t give you a chance to react, he strides towards his bedroom like a man on a mission. Before you can even fully process it, he tosses you onto the bed.

You bounce slightly, gasping, and before you can sit up, a blanket is thrown over you, covering you completely.

Then, his voice, rough and absolutely wrecked— “I’m taking a cold shower.”

The bathroom door slams shut. For a moment, you just lie there, wrapped up in the blanket, in shock. Then, the realization of what just happened hits you.

You burst out laughing.

Seungcheol, the ever-composed, ever-in-control man, just physically removed himself from the situation because of you.

After his cold shower, you watch as Seungcheol grabs a pillow—no, two pillows—and shoves them between you, effectively creating a makeshift wall. His jaw is tight, his ears red, and he mutters under his breath, “I’m not taking another cold shower because of you.”

You blink at him, amused. “You make it sound like I’m the problem here.”

He scoffs, pulling the blanket over you properly, tucking you in like you’re some misbehaving child. “Oh, you are the problem.”

You grin, burrowing into the warmth of the bed. “Wouldn’t be a problem if you just—”

“Sleep.” His voice is firm, though the way he fluffs your pillow for you before lying back down betrays his exasperated fondness.

“Really? You think this will stop me?”

Seungcheol groans, throwing an arm over his face. “For the love of God, just close your eyes and go to sleep.”

You smirk in the dark, fingers lightly tapping against the pillow barrier. Then, just to mess with him, you whisper, "Seungcheol." You hear him exhale sharply, like he's really holding on to his patience. 

"Baby, please." His voice is strained, almost desperate.

You giggle, completely unbothered, and finally, finally let yourself relax. “Okay, okay. Good night, Cheol.”

He doesn’t respond right away, just sighs heavily. Then, softer this time, “Good night.”

And with that, you finally fall asleep—while Seungcheol spends the next half hour staring at the ceiling, trying to get his heart to calm the hell down.

Things are going good, great even. But of course it's like your mind can't let you have a moment of peace.

The thought hit you out of nowhere, settling like an annoying weight in your chest.

You were out with the girls, sitting in your usual corner of the café, but your mind was far from the conversation. The last few nights replayed in your head—every time you teased Seungcheol, every time he pulled away, walked off.

It made you wonder… What if he doesn’t want you like that?

What if you’d misread everything? What if he was just tolerating you, indulging you even, but deep down, he didn’t actually—

"Okay, what’s up with you?" Jihyo’s voice snapped you back to reality. You blinked, realizing everyone at the table was now looking at you

"Huh?"

Irene smirked. "You’ve been spacing out. Something on your mind?"

You hesitated. You weren’t about to pour your heart out in the middle of a brunch spot, but at the same time, the thought was eating at you.

"It’s just…" You chewed on your lip. "Do you think it’s possible for someone to really like you but…not want you like that?"

Jihyo raised an eyebrow. "You’re talking about Seungcheol, aren’t you?"

You avoided their stares, but your silence was enough of an answer.

Irene sighed, setting her cup down. "He’s a grown man, babe. If he didn’t want you like that, he’d say so. Trust me, men are not subtle when they’re not interested."

"Yeah, but what if it’s not that?" you pressed. "What if he just doesn’t see me that way?"

Jihyo scoffed. "Oh my god, you’re actually dumb."

"Excuse me?"

She leaned forward, eyes sharp. "That man looks at you like you hung the damn moon. He gets all flustered because he’s trying so hard to be good for you. He’s literally suffering, and you’re sitting here thinking he doesn’t want you?"

Irene nodded. "You don’t see the way he looks at you, do you?"

You swallowed, suddenly feeling even more ridiculous. "I just— I don’t know," you admitted. "Every time things get…close, he walks away. And now I can’t stop wondering if maybe—"

"Okay, I’m stopping you right there," Jihyo cut in. "Because if we let you spiral, we’ll be here all day. This is you, the same woman who walked up to him that night all confident and emerged victorious after getting THE Choi Seungcheol's number. Babe, don't doubt what you do to that man"

"Then what do I do?" you asked, exasperated.

She smirked. "You stop overthinking and talk to him, obviously."

And that's what you do. When Seungcheol opened the door, the first thing he saw was your pout. His brows furrowed instantly. "What's wrong?"

You just walked past him, kicking your shoes off, before flopping onto his couch with a dramatic sigh.

"You don’t want me, do you?"

Seungcheol blinked. "What?"

You sat up, arms crossed. "I mean, you like me, but you don’t want me like that."

It took him a full three seconds to process your words. Then, he let out a sharp laugh like the kind you make when you’re so caught off guard you don’t know how else to react.

"Wait, are you serious?"

You narrowed your eyes. "Don’t laugh! I’m being serious."

He ran a hand down his face, inhaling deeply before crouching in front of you. His hands came to rest on your knees, fingers warm against your skin.

"Baby," he said slowly, as if trying to make sure you really heard him. "I want you so badly it’s a problem."

Your face heated. "Then why do you always stop?"

His jaw clenched, and he exhaled through his nose, like he was trying to rein himself in. "Because you’re not just some girl I want to mess around with. You matter to me. And if I’m gonna have you like that, I want to make sure you’re really ready."

You frowned. "I'm a grown woman I can make decsions you know"

"I know"

"And what if I am?" you ask, peering down at him

His fingers flexed against your knees, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. "Then you need to stop looking at me like that," he muttered, voice lower now.

"Like what?" you challenged, tilting your head

His grip on you tightened slightly. "Like you want me to lose every bit of self-control I have."

You held his gaze, feeling your own heartbeat pick up. 

"And if I do?"

His jaw locked. For a moment, he just stared at you, like he was weighing every possible option. Then, in one smooth motion, he pushed himself up, towering over you.

"Get up," he murmured.

Your breath caught. "Why?" but you follow his words. Now you’re standing in front of him, look of frustration and something else in his eyes

“The next time you feel like I don’t want you, you have my full permission to hit me on the face”

“Cheol, I’m being serious” you mumble

“So am I, I want you. Always. In ways I didn’t even know I can ever want someone. That’s why I want to do this the right way. So tell your pretty little mind how crazy I am about you, because I will never get tired proving it to you. I want and I will kiss all those worries away, get rid of all those doubts in your head until all you can think about is me.”

The way he’s looking at you tells you everything you needed to know, and his words just proved to you that this man means everything. 

The following days, that conversation floated inside Seungcheol's head. Even though you came to him full of worries, which he shut down quite fast, atleast now instead of running away from him you came straight to him for answers.

And to you, that's a big deal. A huge step for you, a big win for him. He's so proud of how far you've come.

That's exactly why now he's staring at his computer screen, but he wasn’t actually reading anything. His mind was elsewhere, circling the same thought over and over.

"Hey."

Joshua’s voice snapped him out of it. He looked up to see his friend leaning against the doorway of his office, arms crossed, a knowing look on his face

"You’ve been spacing out for the past ten minutes," Joshua said, stepping inside. "What’s up?"

Seungcheol exhaled, rubbing his temple. "Nothing."

Joshua raised an eyebrow. "You? Lost in thought like this? Yeah, that’s not ‘nothing.’"

Seungcheol rolled his chair back slightly, leaning against it. His jaw tightened before he finally admitted, "How do you know if it’s too soon to say something?"

Joshua frowned slightly. "Say what?"

Seungcheol hesitated, then shook his head. "Doesn’t matter."

Joshua scoffed, dragging a chair over and sitting down across from him. "Oh, it definitely matters."

Seungcheol let out a slow breath. He wasn’t the type to get caught up in things like this. He had always been rational, controlled. But now?

Now, he was thinking about you. How you felt curled up against him. How you whispered things when you’re half-asleep. How one pout from you and it’s messing with his head without even realizing it.

Joshua watched him closely. "You know you’re terrible at being vague, right?"

Seungcheol let out a humorless chuckle. "Shut up."

Joshua smirked. "It’s about her, isn’t it?"

Seungcheol didn’t respond, which was response enough.

Joshua leaned back, thoughtful. "You’re wondering if it’s too soon to tell her how you feel."

Seungcheol’s fingers tapped against his desk. "It’s... complicated."

Joshua tilted his head. "Is it? Or are you just scared?"

"I’m not scared."

Joshua just smirked, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh."

Seungcheol shot him a glare. "I’m not." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. "I know how I feel."

That was the problem. He wasn’t second-guessing himself. He wasn’t unsure. He knew exactly what he wanted, exactly how much he cared about you. That wasn’t the issue.

The issue was what if he said it and you freaked out? What if you weren’t ready to hear it? What if he messed this up when things were finally good between you two?

He had worked so damn hard to get here, to get past your walls, to get you to trust him. If he said the words too soon, would you take a step back? Would you run?

Joshua was watching him, a knowing look in his eyes. "So... what are you going to do?"

Seungcheol exhaled. "I don’t know."

Joshua nodded slowly. "Well, you better figure it out. Because from what I can see? You’re already in deep."

Seungcheol had been acting different.

It wasn’t anything obvious, nothing anyone else would notice, but you did. He was still the same—still teasing, still touching you when he could, still looking at you in that way that made your stomach flip. But there was something underneath it all, a tension in his shoulders, a weight behind his eyes, like he was carrying something he wasn’t saying.

And you hated that.

You hated when people acted like they wanted to say something but didn’t. It made you anxious, made your mind wander to all the worst possible reasons. Was he mad at you? Annoyed? Regretting something?

You tried to ignore it at first. You didn’t want to overthink things, didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing. But it had been days, and it was still there.

Like now.

You were at his place, curled up on his couch, your legs resting over his lap as he scrolled through something on his phone. It should’ve been a normal moment but you weren’t relaxed. Not when you could feel it—his energy, the stiffness in his posture, the way he wasn’t fully present.

You narrowed your eyes. "Okay, what’s up with you?"

Seungcheol looked at you, brow raised. "What?"

"Don’t what me," you shot back, sitting up a little. "You’ve been weird. Tense. You keep looking like you wanna say something but then don’t, and I don’t like it."

His mouth parted slightly, but he didn’t say anything. And that just pissed you off more.

You swung your legs off him and sat up properly, arms crossing. "Seriously? You’re still not gonna say anything?"

"There’s nothing to say," he finally answered, running a hand through his hair.

"Bullshit."

His head snapped toward you, startled by the change in your tone

"You think I can’t tell? You think I don’t notice?" You shook your head, jaw clenched. "I hate when people do this. When they keep things to themselves like I’m too fragile to handle it. So either say whatever it is, or stop acting like you’re carrying the weight of the world."

Seungcheol exhaled sharply, leaning back against the couch. "It’s not that simple."

"Why not?"

"Because," he said, voice low, "I don’t wanna mess this up."

That gave you pause.

Your frustration flickered with something else, something softer, something unsure. "Mess what up?"

His eyes met yours then—dark and unreadable, but heavy with meaning. And suddenly, you felt tense. Seungcheol watched as you pushed off the couch, your jaw tight, your movements sharp. You didn’t even look at him as you grabbed your phone and hoodie from the coffee table.

"What are you doing?" he asked, voice low

"Leaving," you said shortly. That one word had something hot and annoyed burning in his chest.

"You’re really gonna walk out just because I don’t want to talk about something right now?"

You let out a humorless laugh. "I don’t wanna say anything else that’s gonna piss me off even more, so yeah, I’m leaving."

Seungcheol stood then, stepping toward you. "You’re mad."

"No shit," you bit out, finally meeting his eyes.

He could see it—the way your hands gripped your hoodie tighter, the way your expression was carefully set, like you were forcing yourself to hold back.

He took another step closer, his voice softer. "Hey."

You didn’t move away, but you didn’t soften either. "Fine," you said, shaking your head. "Don’t say it. Keep whatever it is to yourself. But don’t act like I’m imagining this."

Then you turned toward the door. And for a second, he let you but the moment your fingers touched the handle, something in him snapped.

"Wait."

You paused, but you didn’t turn around. Seungcheol exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He could let you go. He could pretend this tension between you wasn’t suffocating him, that he wasn’t overthinking every second he spent with you now.

But he couldn’t.

"Wait," he said again, softer this time.

You still didn’t turn around, but you didn’t move either.

"I—" He hesitated, clenching his jaw. He had to say something, or he was going to lose you to this stupid misunderstanding.

"I don’t want to keep anything from you," he admitted. "But I’m trying to figure out how to say it so I don’t fuck this up."

At that, you finally turned, your eyes narrowing. "Fuck what up?"

He let out a frustrated laugh, rubbing his face. "Us, obviously."

Your lips parted slightly, and for the first time, he saw the flicker of doubt in your eyes. "Why would you think that?"

"Because I feel something, and I don’t know if it’s too soon to say it. I don’t know if you’re ready to hear it."

Your breath caught, and he saw your fingers twitch by your side.

"But the way you’ve been looking at me," you whispered, voice quieter now. "It’s been messing with my head. I don’t like not knowing."

"I know," he said, stepping closer. "And I don’t want to make you feel like that."

You held his gaze, searching his expression for something, anything that would make this all make sense. "Then just say it, Seungcheol," you murmured. "Whatever it is."

Seungcheol took a deep breath, his fingers twitching like he was holding himself back. Then, with a quiet chuckle—one that sounded more like surrender than amusement—he finally said it.

"I love you."

The words hung between you, heavy and charged.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you just stared at him, like your brain needed time to process what he'd just said. "You—"

"I love you," he repeated, firmer this time. "And I know it’s fast, but it doesn’t change the fact that I do."

You were silent, and his heart pounded in his chest. He wasn’t scared of how he felt—he never was—but this was the first time he was terrified of what you’d do with it.

When you finally spoke, your voice was small. "You weren’t going to tell me?"

"I wanted to," he admitted. "But I didn’t want to push you before you were ready."

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. "You idiot."

His brows lifted. "What?"

Before he could say anything else, you stepped forward and grabbed his face, pulling him down into a kiss. It wasn’t gentle, wasn’t careful—it was desperate, like you were making up for every second you spent doubting him.

He groaned into your mouth, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you impossibly close. When you finally broke apart, you stayed there, forehead resting against his, breath uneven.

"You love me," you whispered, like you were still trying to believe it.

"Yeah," he murmured, his thumb stroking the side of your face. "I do."

You swallowed hard. "Then say it again."

He huffed out a soft laugh, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips before whispering against them, "I love you."

You just hug him, burying your face into his chest, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist. You don't say it back—not yet—but you don’t freak out either.

"You're an idiot," you mumble against his shirt.

Seungcheol lets out a soft laugh, his hands running up and down your back. "I figured that much"

You pull back slightly, just enough to look up at him. "You're an absolute idiot for thinking I’d run away now."

Something in his expression softens, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. His fingers tighten slightly where they rest on your waist.

"So... you're not mad anymore?" he asks, a bit cautious, a bit hopeful.

You roll your eyes, but there's no real bite to it. "Maybe at myself. The world, I don't know," you sigh, shaking your head before leaning back into his chest. "But I’m not running away, so you better deal with it."

Seungcheol chuckles, holding you even closer, his chin resting on top of your head. "Oh, I’ll deal with it just fine." he doesn’t let go. If anything, he holds you even tighter, like he's afraid that if he loosens his grip even a little, you might change your mind.

"You know," he murmurs, his voice warm against your hair, "I really wasn’t trying to keep anything from you. I just… I didn’t want to mess this up."

You sigh, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "You almost did."

He chuckles, but it’s breathy, like he knows how close he came. "Yeah. Noted."

You tilt your head back, looking up at him. His eyes are searching yours, and you can tell he’s still a little hesitant, still waiting for you to process everything.

But you stay there, in his arms, with him. No running away, no deflecting, no hiding away. Then you smile, kissing him softly like you know he'll know what you wanted to say.

And he does.

It's the end of another long workday, the only redeeming part of it is when your boyfriend texted you letting you know he'll come and pick you up. Though for Seungcheol it's the norm, he just likes updating you.

He barely has time to react before you're already right in front of him, practically bouncing on your feet. His eyes widen slightly at your enthusiasm, and then—he smirks.

"What’s with the happy energy?" he teases, arms already opening for you.

You don’t even answer, just throw your arms around his neck, hugging him tight. "I just missed you," you mumble against his shoulder.

He chuckles, wrapping his arms securely around your waist. "Yeah?" he murmurs, voice warm. "That much?"

You nod, still clinging to him. "Mhm. And my day was annoying, so fix it."

He huffs a small laugh and pulls back slightly to look at you. "Fix it, huh? And how am I supposed to do that?"

You dramatically sigh. "I don’t know. Be my boyfriend or something."

Seungcheol grins, tilting his head. "Oh? Thought I already was."

You roll your eyes but can’t hide your smile. "You are. I’m just reminding you."

He chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before opening the car door for you. "Well then, let me take my girlfriend home."

You pretend to think. "Hmm… ice cream first?"

His eyes narrow playfully. "So that’s why you missed me." He laughs, shaking his head, before pulling you into another hug. "Alright, ice cream first. Then home."

Seungcheol glances at you from the driver’s seat, watching as you hum along to the song playing on the radio, fingers drumming idly against your thigh. There’s something light about you now, something warm and unguarded.

He never thought he’d get to see you like this. Not after how hard you pushed him away in the beginning. But now, here you are—grinning at him like he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

"What?" you ask, catching his stare.

He shakes his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "Nothing. Just… I like seeing you like this."

You blink. "Like what?"

"Happy," he says simply.

Your smile falters just a little, eyes searching his like you’re trying to understand him. You still have those moments, where doubt creeps in, where you hesitate—but they’re fewer now. And even when they do come, Seungcheol just holds on tighter.

"I am happy," you finally say, quieter now.

His hand reaches for yours, fingers intertwining effortlessly. "Good."

For a while, neither of you say anything. You just hold his hand, tracing little shapes against his skin absentmindedly. He doesn’t miss the way you squeeze his fingers, like you’re reassuring yourself that he’s really there.

It hits him all at once—how much he loves you.

How every part of you, even the difficult parts, even the stubborn parts, only makes him love you more. 

That night, you’re at his place again, curled up on the couch with him. The TV is on, but neither of you are really watching. You’re leaning against his side, playing with his fingers, and Seungcheol just watches you—completely, utterly taken by you.

"You’re staring again," you mumble without looking up.

"Told you, can’t help it," he says, voice warm with amusement. You roll your eyes but don’t pull away. Instead, you let out a little sigh and shift closer, practically molding yourself against him.

"Comfy?" he teases.

You nod against his chest. "Mhm. You’re warm."

Seungcheol chuckles, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close. These are the moments he treasures the most—the quiet ones, when you let yourself just be with him without hesitation.

"You’re staying over, right?" he asks after a while.

You hum, considering it. "Do you want me to?"

He scoffs. "Obviously."

A small smile tugs at your lips. "Okay."

Seungcheol grins, satisfied. But then you shift again, resting your chin on his chest, looking up at him with that thoughtful expression he knows too well.

"What?" he asks.

You hesitate, like you’re deciding whether or not to say what’s on your mind. But then, after a beat, you ask, "What did you think of me when we first met?"

Seungcheol raises a brow. "You mean when you walked up to me all confident like you owned the place?"

You groan, burying your face in his shirt. "Forget it."

He laughs, pulling you even closer. "No, no. I liked it. I thought you were interesting. A little reckless, but definitely interesting."

You peek up at him. "And now?"

Seungcheol’s gaze softens, thumb brushing gently over your cheek. "Now I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me."

You stare at him for a moment, and Seungcheol swears he sees a million thoughts flicker across your face. But in the end, you don’t say anything—you just smile, a little shy, and nuzzle back into his chest.

He holds you tighter, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Yeah, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

It happens so naturally that neither of you realize it at first.

It’s a lazy weekend morning, the kind where neither of you are in a rush to do anything. You spent the night at his place again, and now you’re curled up under the covers, half-awake, watching Seungcheol pull on a hoodie as he gets ready to leave for the gym.

"I’ll be back soon," he says, fixing his hair in the mirror

You nod sleepily, your voice still thick with drowsiness. "Okay. Bye, I love you."

Seungcheol freezes.

You don’t even notice—you just turn over, snuggling deeper into the blankets, eyes already fluttering shut again.

It takes him a full five seconds to process what just happened.

You said it. I love you. Just like that, so effortlessly, so naturally, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

His heart is pounding.

Does he wake you up? Does he say it back right now? Should he pretend he didn’t hear it and bring it up later? What is he supposed to do with this information?

Seungcheol lets out a breath, running a hand through his hair. He glances back at you—you’re already asleep again, completely unaware of the internal crisis you just threw him into.

With a small, almost incredulous smile, he leans down, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead.

"I love you too," he murmurs, even though you’re not awake to hear it.

And with that, he leaves, a stupid grin on his face the entire way to the gym.

Later when he comes back from his workout, he's practically bouncing on his feet. Seungcheol walks through the door with an energy that’s almost suspicious. He’s humming—actually humming—as he tosses his gym bag aside and heads straight for the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

You, curled up on the couch with your phone, raise an eyebrow at him. "Why are you so jolly?"

He grins, twisting the cap off his water bottle. "Can’t a guy just be in a good mood?"

"No, not you. You, specifically, are annoyingly smug right now," you counter, narrowing your eyes. "What happened at the gym? Did you beat Joshua at something?"

Seungcheol lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. "No, nothing like that." He takes a sip of water, still smiling

You watch him for a second, suspicious. "You're acting weird."

"Am I?" he teases, walking over to you. Before you can protest, he flops onto the couch beside you, pulling you into his arms with ease. "Maybe I’m just happy to see my girlfriend."

You squint at him. "Okay, now I know something’s up."

Seungcheol just chuckles, squeezing you tighter as he buries his face into your shoulder. "You’re overthinking, baby."

You poke his cheek, trying to get a read on him. He’s still grinning, a little too happy, but whatever it is, he’s clearly not going to tell you. You sigh, deciding to drop it—for now.

Instead, you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He kisses the top of your head, and even though you don’t know why he’s in such a ridiculously good mood, you find yourself smiling anyway.

Seungcheol holds you close, his chin resting lightly atop your head. His voice is quieter now, softer, just for you. "I love you."

It’s not the first time he’s said it, and he never expects you to say it back—not until you’re ready.

But today, it feels different.

Today, he heard it from you first, even if you didn’t realize it. You shift slightly in his arms, letting out a sleepy hum, but you don’t react beyond that. You’re still completely unaware of what you said before he left earlier.

Seungcheol doesn’t mind, though. The words are still lingering in his chest, making everything feel a little bit lighter, a little bit warmer. He tightens his hold on you, just a little. He’ll wait until you’re fully aware of it, until you choose to say it again—because he knows you will.

For now, though, he just lets himself enjoy the moment.

What he doesn’t know is that you've been thinking about it too.

You didn’t realize how much space the thought was taking up in your head until recently. how much you wanted to say it, how much it sat at the tip of your tongue every time he smiled at you, every time he pulled you closer without a second thought.

You've always been cautious with your feelings, but with Seungcheol, it feels different. It is different.

"You're thinking too hard," he finally says, pulling you from your thoughts.

You blink, turning to him. "What?"

His eyes crinkle with a teasing grin. "You're staring at the TV, but you haven’t reacted to anything in the last twenty minutes. Either you’re really bad at watching dramas, or something’s on your mind."

You open your mouth, then close it again, hesitating. If only you knew that he was fighting the same battle—wondering when you'd say it, waiting to hear it again, completely unaware that it had already slipped past your lips once before.

You exhale, shaking your head. "It’s nothing."

Seungcheol just hums, reaching over to tug you into his side. He doesn’t press, doesn’t push. Neither of you knows that you’re both waiting for the same thing.

You feel the warmth of his palm as he rubs gentle circles on your back. His voice is soft, comforting, steady—just like him.

"You know you can tell me, right?" he murmurs, his eyes searching yours. "Anything. I’ll be here. But take your time."

Your fingers tighten slightly around the fabric of his hoodie. You want to say it. You really do. The words feel heavy on your tongue, but there’s still something in you that holds back—maybe fear, maybe habit.

Seungcheol doesn’t push. He never does. He just stays close, waiting, patient as ever.

You nod, resting your forehead against his shoulder. "I know."

And he just smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Good."

Little does he know, the next time you say it, you’ll be wide awake and it happened in the middle of a completely ridiculous argument.

“You’re doing it wrong,” you insist, arms crossed as you watch him attempt to assemble the shelf you bought.

He scoffs, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “I’m doing it wrong? I literally followed the instructions!”

“You’re not supposed to tighten that part first! It’s going to make the other side uneven.”

“That makes no sense.” He stares at you, completely baffled. “How does that even—?”

“Cheol, baby, I love you, but you’re being so stubborn right now.”

Silence.

Your own words register a second too late, and your eyes widen in horror. Seungcheol, on the other hand, freezes mid-motion, screwdriver in hand, looking at you like you just knocked the wind out of him.

You both just… stare at each other.

Then he slowly puts the screwdriver down, standing up to his full height, taking a step toward you. “What did you just say?”

You immediately backtrack. “I said you’re stubborn—”

“No, no, before that.” His lips are curving into a slow smile now, eyes practically glowing with amusement.

Your face burns. “I—nothing, it’s nothing—”

He traps you against the counter in a second, hands braced on either side of you. “Say it again.”

Your heart is pounding. “Cheol—”

“Sweetheart—” he drawls, voice teasing.

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “I hate you.”

He chuckles, effortlessly prying your hands away. “That’s not what you said.”

“I am never speaking again.”

His grin softens as he leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. “Too bad, ‘cause I love hearing you say it.”

And just like that, he kisses you, completely ruining your ability to argue back. Seungcheol pulls back just enough to look at you, his lips still curved into that teasing grin. “Say it again.”

You groan, trying to push him away, but he doesn’t budge. “Cheol—”

“Come on, just once more.” His voice is soft, coaxing, as if he’s trying to savor the moment.

You purse your lips, pretending to think. “Hmm. No.”

His grip on your waist tightens as he buries his face against your shoulder, groaning dramatically. “Baby, please.”

You laugh at how genuinely desperate he sounds. “I already said it once—”

“You accidentally said it. I need to hear it properly.” He pulls back again, looking at you with those warm brown eyes, filled with so much adoration it makes your stomach flip. “Please?”

You bite your lip, trying to hold back your smile, but it’s impossible. “I love you,” you finally mumble, cheeks warm. A full-blown grin takes over his face, and before you can react, he lifts you off the ground, spinning you around. 

“I knew it! I knew you loved me!”

You yelp, holding onto him for dear life. “Cheol—put me down!”

“Never,” he declares dramatically, but he does set you back on your feet only to pepper your face with kisses, making you giggle.

He pulls back just slightly, his hands cradling your face. “Say it one more time?”

You roll your eyes, but the way he’s looking at you makes your heart melt. So you cup his face in return, smiling softly as you whisper, “I love you, Seungcheol.”

He kisses you like he’s been waiting forever to hear that. And honestly, you think you could get used to this.

You never thought you’d be here. Wrapped up in Seungcheol’s arms on a lazy Sunday morning, his even breathing against your hair, your legs tangled together like there wasn’t a time you used to push him away.

It still amazes you sometimes. How this happened. How he happened.

Seungcheol shifts, arms tightening around you as he mumbles something incoherent. He’s warm, comfortable, and you let yourself sink into him for a little longer before peeking up at his face.

“Hmm?”

“I said,” he repeats, voice raspy from sleep, “you should get up and make breakfast today.”

You snort. “No thanks.”

He groans dramatically. “You’re lucky I love you.”

That makes you pause, thinking back to how long it took you to get here—to be able to hear those words and not flinch, to not shut him out at the first sign of something real.

When you first met him, you were all sharp edges and walls built so high even you weren’t sure how to break them down. You’d walked into his life all confidence and bravado, pretending like you could handle him, only to realize you’d bitten off more than you could chew.

And still, he stayed.

Through every time you tried to push him away, through every moment of doubt, through every scar you never wanted to talk about—he stayed. He waited.

“You okay?” he murmurs now, pulling back to look at you. His eyes are soft, filled with something so deep it makes your chest ache.

You nod, smiling a little. “Yeah.”

“Hmm.” His gaze lingers like he knows you’re thinking about something, but he doesn’t push. He never does. He just looks at you with love you thought you'll never feel again, arms feeling like a home you thought you'd never find.

So, naturally, you decide to ruin the moment.

“Though, if we’re talking about luck,” you muse, dragging a finger down his chest, “you are the lucky one here.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yes.” You hum, barely biting back a grin. “Because who else would deal with your ridiculous gym obsession, your clinginess, and—oh! The way you steal the blankets every night?”

Seungcheol gasps, scandalized. “I steal the blankets?”

“Yes.”

“Baby, you are the thief here. I wake up freezing at least twice a week because you bundle yourself up like a burrito—”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

He huffs before suddenly rolling over, pinning you beneath him. “You’re lucky I’m patient.”

You grin up at him. “You’re lucky I let you love me.”

"Baby, give credit where it's due. I worked hard to be here" he jokingly says, cuddling you even more. And he really did, he is exactly the man he said he is. He didn't leave, he stayed when it mattered. He never let you go when you wanted to disappear.

To him, you will always be worth all that wait. It wasn't luck. It was him being sure of you from that very first night. It was luck when you saw him that night at the bar.

But the rest, that's all him and you. It's hardwork but with the person, with you, it's easy.

And that’s why, despite all the teasing and the banter, you lift a hand to cup his cheek and whisper, “Thank you for waiting for me.”

That makes something flicker in his eyes, something real and tender, because you both know how hard it was for you to accept love—to accept him.

His face softens, and he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Always.”

And really, this is how life with Seungcheol is—full of laughter, playful teasing, and more love than you ever thought possible. You never expected to let someone in so completely, but here he is, and you wouldn’t change a thing.

[musemeadow]

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what inevitable change awaits you?

please choose what pulls you in and remember, nothing in life is permanent. trust in yourself and your judgement before all else ౨ৎ

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂☆

pile 1;

on the surface, everything may seem to continue as normal, but deep down, you’ll know it isn’t the same at all. someone in your circle is worried about the path you’re moving towards–for better or for worse. there is no maliciousness in their concern. still, if you continue, this relationship will surely fall. as it falls, you will come to a grand realization about yourself and your path moving forward. it is up to you to decide between the comfort of this relationship, or your growth as an individual. here, there are no incorrect answers, only choices.

# natural change. belonging, lucid dreams, water, childhood toys

song; love, my world is full - rio ┆ colors; bistre, terracotta, baby pink

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂☆

pile 2;

you are stuck in limbo–a state neither here nor there. the feeling won’t go away as long as you keep doing what you’re told. once in a while, there might be a voice calling to you from beyond the horizon and it’s longing for a response. listen to it, if you wish, but stay cautious. they only want what's best for you, but at the end of the day, they too want your agency for themselves. you won’t find what you’re looking for externally. looking inwards, there are things in your life that feel completely unsolvable. it’ll take years to ultimately find it in your heart to leave limbo for good. rest assured, it’ll be worth it. there will be more voices like the others. which are worth listening to depends on your will.

# personal change. identity, lukewarm yet flavorful tea, air, mammatus clouds.

song; ww - other nothing ┆ colors; cream, linen, grey.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂☆

pile 3;

change isn’t something you’d pursue naturally. you’re content with the routine you’ve set for yourself, the people you know, and the life that you lead. change will not happen to you–it will happen around you. as time passes, your relationships may not be as tight knit as they might have been. it’ll fare well to keep an eye on this delicate balance of closeness or run the risk of feeling more disconnected than ever before. your favorite people notice your distance and it upsets them. don’t worry, they will take good care of your fragile heart, as long as you let them.

#  passage of time. sincerity, out of tune piano, earth, cracked sidewalks

song; grown up - leith ross ┆ colors; claret, sepia, honey

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

Sources for images: |Ace| |Kid| |Zoro| |Law| |Sanji|

This is a series focused on five different love interests. Here's how it works: there's five introductory chapters where we get to know the female reader's background and, in each chapter, she meets one of the love interests. Just a first meet-cute.

Then, I will write a different love story for each, as if they're different timelines, continuing from the last chapter of the introductory chapters!

Summary: You had your life in Grand Line City all figured out. A wonderful job, a fiancé and a shared apartment. Until you found out he was cheating. Your father, Shanks, had a horse riding accident and you decided that this was just the right time to return home. You were expecting a peaceful, uneventful life back in the Calm Belt, but, fate had other plans. Think of all the rom/coms that make you feel good because you know the couple will end together. This is it. Enjoy!

|Chapter 1 - Ace| |Chapter 2 - Kid| |Chapter 3 - Zoro| |Chapter 4 - Law| |Chapter 5 - Sanji|

Firestarter - Ace's Story (Complete! 53+k words)

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You intended to have some alone time, to reflect and heal, but your childhood friend's older brother, Ace, seems to be there just to upset that fragile peace you're striving for. He's a flirt and a womaniser. But why does he also have to be so handsome and perfect? And how long can you resist his charms?

|Chapter 1| |Chapter 2| |Chapter 3| |Chapter 4| |Chapter 5| |Chapter 6| |Chapter 7| |Chapter 7.5🔞| |Chapter 8🔞| |Chapter 9| |Chapter 10| |Epilogue|

The Great Pretender - Law's Story (Complete 83+k words)

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

|Chapter 1| |Chapter 2| |Chapter 3| |Chapter 4| |Chapter 5 🔞| |Chapter 6🔞| |Chapter 7| |Chapter 8| |Chapter 9| |Chapter 10🔞| |Chapter 11| |Chapter 12🔞| |Chapter 13🔞| |Chapter 14🔞| |Chapter 15| |Chapter 16| |Chapter 17| |Epilogue|

Trouble - Zoro's Story (Complete 76k+ words)

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

|Chapter 1| |Chapter 2| |Chapter 3| |Chapter 4| |Chapter 5| |Chapter 6| |Chapter 7| |Chapter 8| |Chapter 9| |Chapter 10| |Chapter 11🔞| |Chapter 12| |Chapter 13🔞| |Chapter 14| |Epilogue🔞|

Check out this beautiful Zoro fanart for the story Trouble by @laidenbreecatchall

Source for pic

Imperfect - Kid's Story (ongoing)

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. Then there's Kid, the gruff, hot-headed mechanic, who gets under your skin in more ways than one. The chemistry between you is undeniable and you can't keep your hands to yourselves. Until he starts to push you away. Each time you think he's let you in, he just shoves you further, it's such a maddening, dizzying push and pull that you don't know how much more your heart can take before it crumbles.

|Chapter 1| |Chapter 2| |Chapter 3 🔞| |Chapter 4🔞| |Chapter 5🔞| |Chapter 6| |Chapter 7| |Chapter 8| |Chapter 9| |Chapter 10🔞| |Chapter 11🔞| |Chapter 12| |Chapter 13|

Check out these beautiful fanarts by @igiulss for the story Imperfect: Here, here, here and here

Bonus - Lament - A Meet-Cute Spoiler

|Drabble|

[weebsinstash]

I know the show isn't out yet but Stayed Gone is stuck in my head and I'm chugging my yandere Vox juice so hard right now. I think he has the capacity to be absolutely insufferable

---for starters THE SPYING POTENTIAL WITH THIS MAN. You're telling me he can directly plug himself in to the city power grid and see through all televisions, potentially even phones and computers too? Could he put himself on your phone and start going through your texts? Could he even just put himself on your phone real quick while you're sleeping to check in on you? You couldn't even have privacy in your own home because of whatever screens are around he could potentially shoot himself to or watch you through. Imagine just being in your apartment completely alone and he's suddenly on your tv. Like what if you had just been sitting there topless or with your dick out or something or 👀 I mean. He could see so much, really...

---God honestly like. You know I keep mentioning the Instagram without ever attaching pics or anything because I'm on mobile and I'd have to use the hazbin Instagram archive blogs here on tumblr to go find them back like, you know Val would openly post the meanest shit, would literally post Vox's face being busted up because he woke Val up from a nap or i think it was he literally just brought him the wrong soda (which to be fair was taken from Velvet and was half empty), and then you go over to Vox's account and his pic was taping his pieces back on while being really frustrated and kinda lowkey looking like he would cry

Like Val's out here "women are stupid also men are stupid too" and talking about how he adopted a dog and killed it within like 48 hours and here's Vox celebrating his pet's birthday with cake and a party like. Why are these men together. Why. Why. Don't get me wrong I love to be the involuntary third in a toxic codependency but--

look all I'm saying is... do any of you get really really upset when you see someone being mistreated, especially more so a friend of yours?

READER JUST LOSING THEIR SHIT GETTING FERAL ANGRY SHOUTING AND SCREAMING AT VAL BECAUSE HE PULLS SOME SHIT and like that's IT for you because 1. Valentino might like actually backhand you one as well, do you think he wears rings so it hurts, 2. Vox sees you defending him and like, it's based on your own preferences really but if he wasn't already gaga this CEMENTS it and 3. especially if he watches you have to take a blow for trying to stick up for him. Like what if you cry. I have a low pain threshold, I'd be sniveling and crying at the least. Valentino storms off and Vox is helping peel you off the floor cause you curled up into a ball or some shit and he's sitting there thinking "wow they suck at this but they still did it for me 🥺"

---during his song with Alastor, it's a little confusing because they show an actual camera crew when he's turning the TVs on, but i think it's pretty clear that he can control whatever the screens show visually, thus his little zany sketches and being able to talk to himself and at one point, showed the visual of himself blocking the radio Alastor was projecting on right next door. I can just see him using this to kind of.... fuck with you, really! Or do whatever he wants? He's trying to suck up to you and he's surrounded by roses, or you're his co-host/guest host and he thinks your joke was funny and gives a little audience laughter as a treat

Or you know... you're running from him down the street, passing all these different screens and displays as they power on and show things like, him "jumping in front of you" while demanding you stop or, trying to show some kind of blackmail publicly, or just, begging you to just ACCEPT HIM and showing you all the fun things he could do with you, "cmon, I said I was sorry, stop freaking the fuck out! We can- we can do that thing you've always wanted to do, what about that?!" as he tries to project you two doing something fun, but most importantly, doing it TOGETHER. You're running from him terrified and he's showing you images of like you two smiling and happy or, it becomes scarier as he's more desperate

"Don't-don't make me do something fucked up!! I'm serious, STOP RUNNING" and he's like freaking out, showing shit of trying to hold you down, tying you up, and/or shoving you into a locked room

Sudden thoughts of "what if the more emotional and unstable he becomes, the less he can control his intrusive thoughts and shows his more impulsive darker desires". He's tweeking and the screen glitches and you briefly think you see yourself completely restrained, blindfolded, gagged--

---he's just like OBVIOUSLY so prideful but also immature and whiny ("who gives a shit about alastor?" Well you, mr hes just quietly minding his own business and I'LL start beef because i feel threatened and STILL LOSE, like awww my poor little pogchamp got publicly humiliated in an argument HE started out of nowhere, he's my little sad wet baby lmaoooo) and we already know his relationship with Val can become physically abusive, so, you pair him staying in that kind of relationship, being codependent, with this personality of his, and I can just see.... ACTUALLY FUCKING TRIGGERED LIKE LITERALLY CRYING UPSET VOX BECAUSE YOU REJECTED HIM like he's pissed he's hurt he's lonely he's heartbroken and HELL NO IS HE GONNA ACCEPT THIS

Vox would be over here proudly claiming on his TV show that NO HE REJECTED Y O U, not the other way around! He's not upset! He's totally fine! Meanwhile everyone watching can tell this man is manic and visibly hotboxing copium, "I didn't even really like you anyways!!.... no, I mean, shit, fuck, COMMERCIAL BREAK--" *cut to technical difficulties screen because the man is CRYINGGG*

-- Valentino and Reader bonding over teasing Vox and making him flustered and of course, obviously, the inverse. I still kinda like the idea of "they both think you're cute but like nothing exciting until one night they bump into you unplanned and you're all dressed up". Like Val is from the 70s or 80s so they go to a roller rink disco whatever kinda place because I'm sure the coke game there is INSANE and you're just like, swaying your hips spinning around to Let It Whip or September or something dressed in some shorts that make your ass look just right 🤌

You're sneaking back into the studio after a night out and they're both lounging somewhere and Val's like "uhhhh who is THIS coming in without saying hi to Daddy?" and you pull your sunglasses down like "SIR??? 😳" And now HE'S flustered because he didn't know that was you and Vox is feeling some new kinda way because he's used to seeing you in like, your work uniform or casual wear

Val who then makes your work uniform really slutty and you have to serve him and Vox wearing it 😩❤️

---I have this thought of like lmao imagine walking down the sidewalk with Angel and seeing Vox on TV and Angel is like "ya know he can see everything outta dese things when he's plugged in" and you're like "bullshit, he couldn't possibly process that many screens at once, it'd overload his brain, he wouldnt be able to concentrate" and you're like "here I'll prove it, hey Vox, check it out you fucking dweeb" and flash him your bare titties or you MOON HIM

scenario A would be that he INSTANTLY barks out laughing, "hey Val, that dumb slut who brings you drinks just flashed me!" And he just totally shows it on the air, maybe partially censored, maybe not at all, your phone is ringing IMMEDIATELY, of COURSE it's Val, and Vox is broadcasting your mortified embarrassed expression, "our big story tonight: drunk bimbo fucks around and finds out! More updates after this word from our sponsor!" and the man will noooootttttttt stop bullying the fuck out of you afterwards, because he's got a crush on you and you're like someone weaker than him his insecure ass can punch down on

Scenario B is that he instantly turns pink and about 5 seconds later he blue screens and the entire city experiences a blackout and when he comes back on the air he's like stammering and, glancing at, it FEELS like he keeps glancing at you, but, is he really?

------

I dunno... like I'm sure Valentino is gonna wind up being unstable in his own way but I guess there's a certain, ALLURE to Vox being a little bratty and whiny while also having these very VERY handy, actually quite scary abilities and resources 👀 like boy show me what that screen do 😫💦

[sgiandubh]

2023 or last week

That's not really matters', what is interesting is that Caitríona has a very high level of privacy in her movements or travels

She has a private life that is completely away from notice and attention, no press, no ordinary people, no fan who meets her by chance

Wow.. as if she had the invisibility power since 2019.

Dear Privacy Level Anon,

We're going to do things a bit differently, this time, with an audio answer. Nice to meet you, by the way:

For those who need a transcript, here goes:

'Your charade has very simple answers:

No Press? The Press would have to actually care or be sold a juicy tip/story, about that elusive B-lister who is such a compelling Claire Fraser (huh?) from Outlander ('wait a minute, that nice, secksay series around 2016, right?'). Press interest is, however, likely to immediately jump up, the minute she lands a better PR team and/or a part in a really relevant cinema project. Let's see what those two next movies bring, Anon.

No Ordinary People? Imagine you're Jane Doe (aka, an Ordinary Person), traveling from 🛫 London to 🛬Bangkok. Upon arrival at 🏯Suvarnabhumi Airport , while waiting in line for the notoriously looooong passport control (full profile pic included), you spot C (or S, or C and S, or C and S and Boos 1, 2, 3... 554). They vaguely remind you of someone. That someone could be anyone from a) your cousin Matilda's co-worker you have been briefly introduced to, three years ago; b) someone who looks like your homeland's host of 'Who Wants To Be a Millionaire' TV show (totally random example, here); c) someone who looks like that actress you once saw in that TV series which name you can't really remember. Ultimately, the fact that you are unable to put a name on that face really irritates you. Your feet hurt, you are sleepy, grumpy and you need to go to the bathroom ASAP (🚨🚨🚨🚨). Meanwhile, S and C kiss, Boo #456 is as unhappy as you and wants his blankie. Did I mention you need to use the 🚻 (somewhere far away from 🛃) ASAP? S and C 💋💋💋💋 some more. YOU NEED TO USE THAT TOILET AND YOU'RE STUCK IN THAT STUPID LINE. Boo #433 wants their mommy's attention NOW (🥹🍼🤦‍♀️), so you sympathize a bit ('what a cute 👶, just like his/her parents') but you are really focused on your 🧻problem. By the time you dragged your 🧳to the 🚕 area, in the thick, humid heat at Arrivals, you'd have forgotten everything about it, but remember every single second of your Passport Control Ordeal.

No Fan? Outside of these Tumblr/X/Instagram jihadist pockets, no casual 🪭 would probably ask for a pic, provided they remember the name of the series (it is really poor taste to go for it and candidly tell her/them something like ' oooh, I remember you from The Last Kingdom, such a wonderful series'). Out of those who still go for it, I bet the farm:

85% keep The Nice Pic tucked in their iPhones and just randomly share at the next school bake sale/corporate teambuilding/ Rotary Club meeting with random people saying random things like 'oooh, she's nice, wait a minute, wasn't she in The Last Kingdom'?

10% foolishly post on X or Instagram, to be immediately greeted by The Fandom Vigilantes, courtesy of alerts installed on their own iPhones: 'where was it/ when was it/was she alone/yes? why?/no? why and with whom/ what did she say/ did she say anything/ why didn't she say anything'. If, by a very probable misfortune, what you have to dish out does not click with the Greeting Committee's agenda, expect to be: a) treated like a 5 year old idiot or a tortured POW ('was she alone...? was she alone...? are you sure she wasn't alone...? ARE YOU SURE SHE WASN'T ALONE? ANSWER ME, WAS SHE ALONE?'); b) Caitsplained she is married to someone else and what you saw is an optical illusion; c) perhaps even forced to adjust your own narrative (maybe that 6′ 3" Viking was Tony McGill, after all? 😵). You immediately regret posting it on your public Social Media accounts, erase the pic and go private. By the time you do it (12 hours from posting), it would have been dutifully screencapped, in a middle of a full blown Fandom Skirmish.

5% know what Tumblr actually is (at a minimum) and/or are actively involved in its Fandom Subset. The minute they post is the start of just another Nagasaki episode. The DM inbox will explode with a rich array of pleas/insults/more Caitsplaining. Comments will range from the ecstatic to the revoltingly vulgar. And remember (LOL for weeks):

The Fandom will eventually never forgive you for sharing.'

[sageispunk]

Might Be (18+)

author's note: okay this is my first time doing headcannons ngl just freestyling, don't judge me pls <3 (pic from pinterest)

🍃 Dealer Richie Jerimovich x reader HC (?)

warnings: 18+ minors dni!!! talk of drugs (🍃), paraphernalia, age gap (reader is around 22-24, richie is in 40s), richie is kind of a shitty texter but its ok, reader is said to be about a foot shorter than richie (i see him as like 6'5 tbh), nervous richie, sort of shy reader, allusion to smoking, dirty dream/dirty talk from dream richie, petnames 'mama' and 'baby' are used, proofread a couple times but prob not enough (sorry for any errors), there will probably be more of these!, title is based on the Anderson paak song :)

You met Richie shortly after you moved to Chicago to complete your masters

You stole his number from a native fling who’d bought from Richie plenty of times

When you first texted, he thought you were a narc

is this richie?

--read 9:17pm

30 minutes later… hello?

Whos asking

friend of tyler amato? he said you were his guy

Wat do u need

just 🍃

Send ur address

(mind you, minimum wait time for a richie text response is 10-15min)

He waited for you outside your apartment, expecting a guy and half expecting it to be a rat

When you came out, he was still looking at his phone, but you walked over, his name falling from your lips much softer than he expected

You’d never met Richie when Tyler picked up, but he always said he was a tall guy--you weren’t expecting him to be a whole foot taller than you though

“Tyler’s friend?” You nodded, trying not to stare too hard at his icy blue eyes as they scanned across your body, more observational than sexual

Normally, you would've tried to hide some part of yourself when you noticed you’re being looked at so closely, but you felt oddly comfortable

That, plus you were just wearing a hoodie and a pair a leggings with some fuzzy slippers so there wasn't much to hide

You observed him too, his lanky form and how it towered over your own, and the way his eyebrows seemed to be stuck in a state of confusion–furrowed and wrinkled– and the way he only wore a matching black adidas tracksuit in the 40 degree weather

You quickly swapped the cash and paraphernalia, shaking your head ‘no’ when he asked if you needed any wraps

“Nope, ‘ve got my piece upstairs”

You said a quick thanks, trying not to be too awkward (you’ve never really had to buy your own stuff before)

“Hey! Um, never got your name before..”

He sounded nervous, it made you smirk a little

You told him your name and he nodded, repeating it back to you as you stood there, mid-turn and eye contact strong

It seemed like he had something else to say, so you lingered for half a second, and then his phone began to ring

“Gotta..” He held the phone up for a quick second

“See ya.” You cut him off, nodding and turning back around into your building

That night, you got really h1gh with your roomie, giggling about the hot older guys on your favorite drama show

Later on, you dreamt about the one you just met earlier that night, his pretty blue eyes on yours as he spoke, talking you through it

“Just like that, mama…. c’mon baby give it t’me..”

[youremyheaven]

Moon Dominance & Manipulation pt 3

I just keep finding more examples and I couldn't not share. They will vary in terms of the severity of abuse and manipulation. Some are quite silly but some are pretty fcked up. Salty Moon dominants who cannot stand being criticized, stay mad boo 😘you will never stop me from speaking my truth<3

One thing I have noticed about Moon dominant individuals is that they completely seem to believe the lies they tell others. They don't think they're being manipulative at the slightest because they fully believe everything they say, no matter how absurd or outlandish it is. This means that Moon dominants are easily influenced and can be manipulated easily even if they are also capable of blatantly manipulating and deceiving others. I see Moon dominants stuck in unhealthy relationships simply because they'll just play mind games with their partner until the day they die instead of just choosing peace.

Katrina Kaif, Hasta Moon

Katrina has lied about being half-Indian and half-white her entire career to be more "relatable" to Indians. no one knows who her father is or how exactly she grew up and how a British woman like her ended up modelling and acting in India at the age of 17. She's now one of the biggest stars in the country and to this day no one knows much about her background.

She is one of 8 siblings, all of whom are extremely white looking

it is possible that Katrina is mixed while her siblings are not but it's also possible that she just inherited a more olive complexion compared to her siblings??

this is a picture of Kat and some of her siblings as kids, this man vaguely looks like he could be POC but there are plenty of spicy white men who have darker features/hair & eye color?

if this is the father in question, his name is Ronald Turcotte (Katrina's birth name is Kate Turcotte, she "Indianized" her name to be Katrina Kaif when she made her debut 20+yrs ago) and this is a pic of him with his current wife:

He literally just looks like a regular white guy with some Italian ancestry or something.

Katrina has not only lied about being "half-Indian" but also said her father's name is Mohammad Kaif and that he was a Kashmiri businessman lmao

The producer of her first film who introduced her to Bollywood said:

 "We created an identity for her. She was this pretty young English girl, and we gave her the Kashmiri father and thought of calling her Katrina Kazi. We thought we'd give her some kind of Indian ancestry, to connect with the audience ... But then we thought that Kazi sounded too ... religious? ... Mohammad Kaif was at the top, and so we said, Katrina Kaif sounds really great" (for context, Mohammad Kaif is the name of a well known cricketer)

She once said:

 “Probably it may sound very stupid. You know you must have seen enough and your friends, how you have dark children who grew up to be fair. I was a very dark child so there was no way that you would look at me and say this is a Caucasian child. I was always viewed upon as oh how exotic or how ethnic."

Even Emily Ratajkowski is very non-white looking for a white woman, imagine if she started claiming that she "feels" ethnic as she "looks" ethnic.

Here are some excerpts from a 2011 interview:

The complicated politics of a tan skin white woman feeling validated by being comparatively light skinned in a deeply colorist country like India and lying about being half-Indian is just ..... 🤢🤮🤢

Bella Hadid- Hasta Sun

Bella, her brother and mother all suffer from a condition called "chronic Lyme disease". Gigi, the only person who does not have Lyme, has Hashimoto's disease.

Lets get a few things out of the way. Lyme disease is a real, entirely treatable and completely curable illness. All you have to do is take antibiotics and you'll make a full recovery in about 2 weeks.

Chronic Lyme disease is a different condition and widely debunked by the medical community for not being a real condition.

Wikipedia defines Chronic Lyme as:

"Chronic Lyme disease is the name used by some people with non-specific symptoms, such as fatigue, muscle pain, and cognitive dysfunction to refer to their condition, even if there is no evidence that they had Lyme disease."

That said, Bella and her mom have been talking about their struggles with Lyme disease for over a decade now. Medical professionals all deny the existence of this condition and both Bella and Yolanda (her mom) are treated by various quack, pseudoscientific "alternative" medicine practitioners who are more or less ill qualified and not real doctors.

When Bella was 16yrs old, she was arrested for driving under the influence and this was literally addressed on The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, the show that her mother starred in. Yolanda used to write a blog for Bravo in which she expressed her thoughts about this incident and she also mentioned writing a long letter to Bella.

Yolanda's dad died in a car accident when she was 7 and she was very frightened by Bella's accident but also relieved that neither she nor anybody else was injured.

That letter she wrote was somehow leaked and is available on the internet. Here it goes:

Interestingly enough, Bella was diagnosed with "chronic lyme" 👀in the same year. Bella once mentioned that she started smoking cigarettes at 14yrs old and clearly by 16 she was drunk driving with a cocktail of substances stashed in her car. Bella's old tumblr blog that has been widely circulated also reveals that she struggled with an eating disorder at this time and perhaps depression as well.

I mention all this because I have always suspected Bella of using "chronic lyme" as a cover up for her struggles with substance abuse and her eating disorder. Even all the symptoms for chronic lyme are so vague that pretty much anybody could experience them, but their occurrence is greatly exacerbated if one suffers from stress/anxiety/is abusing drugs etc (more on this in a minute).

In an interview, Bell said of her DUI:

"I stopped driving because I kept crashing, because my brain just stopped working.’ She had an accident — ‘It was when I first got sick. It was a dark time’ — which was reported in the press as a DUI. ‘I was exhausted all the time. It affected my memory so I suddenly wouldn’t remember how to drive to Santa Monica from Malibu where I lived. I couldn’t ride. I was just too sick. And I had to sell my horse because I couldn’t take care of it.’ It was an emotional blow on top of the physical."

Now the thing is, Yolanda mentioned in her own blog post that Bella went to AA (Alcoholics Anonymous) meetings as mandated by the court:

"I decided to take her phone away, make her pay for her own lawyer bills from her savings, and we sold her car. The court suspended her license for one year, she received six months probation, and was required to conduct 25 hours of community service and 20 hours of AA meetings."

She likely stopped driving because Yolanda got on her ass and sold her car lol?? As Yolanda herself said??? Yolanda never said one word about Lyme and she's pretty much the self-appointed spokesperson for Lyme so the fact that in her own blog post literally right after the accident, she addresses the issue for what it is makes Bella's later remarks of her being tOo siCk tO drIvE sound like a lie 🤥

This is an easy example of how Moon dominants manipulate the truth to suit their narrative and make themselves look better. Bella made her debut later that year and it would look bad if everyone saw Bella as a spoilt bratty nepo baby who was also a teenage alcoholic riding her sister's coattails into modelling. Also you have to remember, Bella was the less popular sister back then and she only became an icon and it girl by like 2019ish.

It suited Bella and later Yolanda to keep pushing the chronic lyme agenda to win sympathy.

Also just btw, I think Yolanda is super fucked up and this letter offers an interesting look into her mind. She is Uttarashada Sun and Jyeshta Moon and I think its sooo bizarre how her daughter almost died in a car crash and all she can talk about is how dirty and messy the car is??? Why isn't she talking about Bella being drunk out of her mind or about her alcohol habit in general??? Why is she not pointing out her actual concerning lifestyle instead of "oh my god youre soooo messy and im soooo sad" ??? anywayyys

Ever since then, chronic lyme has been Bella's go to to describe everything about herself. Symptoms that could easily be from stress, anxiety, depression, addiction, starving herself etc are all blamed on a non-existent condition. When actual doctors say the condition does not exist and you and your mom claim it does, I think it says something 😬

Also, Yolanda was sick during the filming of her reality show and it was found out that her breast implants had ruptured and the silicon was leaking into her bloodstream and making her sick. She later said it was Chronic Lyme instead lmfaooo. So there is plenty of proof that both mom and daughter are just making this shit up.

one thing I cannot stand about Moon dominants is how they constantly seek validation for everything they do and love to win sympathy. Meghan Markle, Hasta Moon is another example. Sympathy capitalist, Selena Gomez (Cancer stellium) is another example.

What exactly was Bella trying to prove by posting pictures of her looking very out of it?? To prove to people that she is indeed sick?? There are many celebs out there who struggle with chronic illnesses, are they posting pics from their treatment??? Overall, it feels very "🥺🥺poor me, im so grateful despite everything, im so strong, look at how much i suffer and struggle!!!" as if she's trying to downplay any privilege bashing she may get by counteracting it with a "im extremely sick" narrative bc no one can hate on someone who is ill even if that is a fictional illness.

There were rumours all of last year that she took a break from modelling to go to rehab and she had also broken up with her then bf.

look at those symptoms and tell me you haven't experienced those at some point lmao. I used to struggle with severe anxiety many years ago and an eating disorder several years ago and I experienced pretty much all of those symptoms. I say this because those symptoms by itself are really vague and not specific to any one illness.

another really sus issue is why Bella felt the need to post pics of her medical history??? like she's a model not running for President lmao,,,, its obvious that she really wants to be perceived as struggling with chronic lyme. Most people with a health issue stay quiet about it (their issues are also actual illnesses but oh well)

This is a screenshot of a lab test she posted:

A clinical lab scientist who performs tests on infectious diseases (like Lyme) said:

First off, having this amount and varied pathogens within your body at once is not impossible but is highly unusual. Even one of these pathogens would make a patient extraordinarily ill. If I were performing PCR and got that many positives, I would 100% not release results until a consult with an infectious disease MD.

In that list, there are bloodborne bacteria and viruses, intestinal parasites, many of which have nothing to do with Lyme disease.

That last page is important. The source states "urine". There are virtually no PCR tests performed on urine currently because pathogens are not usually shed through urine and often urine is contaminated by urogenital flora. This is the ARUP tickborne PCR panel which details out which pathogens would be tested for and the type of sample they would need (blood). ARUP is a large reference lab in the US and performs some rare tests. Again, it's extremely unlikely to see that many pathogens positive in one sample.

All of this is to say, Miss ma'am Bella Hadid faked her hospital records by paying some quack guy for it and put it on IG for sympathy 😬💀💀

I have nothing against Bella, I think she's iconic but her spreading literal medical misinformation to millions of impressionable people who eat up her every word is absolutely dangerous, unprofessional and awful and I sincerely hope she's called out/exposed for it.

first of all, none of these words mean absolutely anything.

"energy is in proper balance" ??? "alkaline tissue pH"? ?? just say you dont have a medical degree and goooo

On this document it says the test was conducted by 'Manhattan Advanced Medicine'.

Here is an excerpt from Manhattan Advanced Medicine's LinkedIn page:

Do they sound like legitimate doctors to you?? They're just one of those scammy New Age-y alternate medicine places that rich people with money to blow, go to, so they feel better about themselves.

I sincerely hope Bella gets actual treatment for her real struggles with mental health/ED/potential substance issues etc and I hope she has the strength to admit to herself that she's using a fictional narrative to gain sympathy from others and as a coping mechanism to avoid dealing with her real problems. Bella grew up as the middle child and felt neglected by Yolanda pretty much, some say that the whole "chronic Lyme" has probably become the only bonding activity for the two of them and the only time Bella felt like she was loved by her mom (which is so sad) which is why she's been going on with it for 10yrs now. Whatever it may be, I hope they all get better.

Elizabeth Holmes- Shravana Sun

Many of you are probably already familiar with scammer Liz Holmes

She was founder and CEO of Theranos, a blood-testing company.

Prosecutors accused Holmes of intentionally misleading investors and patients. Out of the more than 200 blood tests advertised, the in-house “Edison” machines could perform a very small number themselves and could not provide accurate results. Holmes is also alleged to have lied about the scale of the company's profits. 

Two of the most striking examples of the Theranos machines’ faulty test results were two female patients. One of the women was diagnosed as HIV positive but the finding was refuted by further blood tests. A second woman who had suffered several miscarriages received test results from Theranos during her pregnancy which indicated that she had lost her baby once again. The test was faulty and she later gave birth to a healthy baby. Internal emails, however, revealed that the start-up concealed the erroneous results from investors and business partners by using a modified demo device or by partially hiding test results from them. 

The prosecution also presented a 55-page report in which Theranos officials added the logos of pharmaceutical companies GlaxoSmithKline, Pfizer and Schering-Plough to give the impression that they had approved the technology. However, a scientist employed by Pfizer testified that he found the start-up’s claims to be implausible and advised Pfizer not to collaborate. The prosecutors were able to show that Theranos had nevertheless sent the report with the subsequently inserted logos to investors and business partners. 

The interesting thing about Moon dominants and their manipulation is that unlike Saturn which is direct and in your face with how awful it is, Moon natives deceive and pretend. You will never realise the truth until you learn to look for it. With a Saturnian, you can always tell because they dont know how to hide it.

Moon does not have any light of its own. Moon also does not have a fixed form. Its waxing one day, waning the next. So it makes sense as to why these natives "manipulate" or "distort" the truth, since its kind of in their nature, to do so?

This brought me to an interesting observation of how Moon dominants seem to completely fall for pseudoscientific stuff. Bella, whom I already mentioned is one example but there are many more.

So, in Hinduism, the Moon God is named 'Soma' but the word 'Soma' is also used to refer to an intoxicating drink.

In the Vedas, the word Soma was actually primarily used for an intoxicating and energizing/healing plant drink and the deity could have received his name from the drink potentially?👀

The Hindu texts state that the Moon is lit and nourished by the Sun, and that it is Moon where the divine nectar of immortality resides.

In some Indian texts, Soma is the name of an apsara; alternatively it is the name of any medicinal concoction, or rice-water gruel, or heaven and sky, as well as the name of certain places of pilgrimage.

Whilst this connotation can explain their dizzying relationship with presenting the truth and how absolutely convinced they are of their own lies (Moon dominants manipulate others but are also easily manipulated tbh, they are both predator and prey). I think mythological backdrop also explains why so many Moon dominants are always kind of on the hunt for the elixir of life by adopting all kinds of New Age-y, holistic, spiritual 'alternative' medicine/lifestyle/treatment etc.

The thing is, there is truth to herbal remedies and holistic living but Moon dominants seldom pursue the truth of these practices, they always pick the weirdest, strangest stuff that absolutely helps no one and is most definitely a scam.

Gwyneth Paltrow- Hasta Sun & Mercury, Rohini Moon, Venus in Ashlesha atmakaraka

Lady Goop is a classic example of how Moon dominants can be very deluded with their "alternate" therapies/lifestyle. Moon dominants are easily confused and the path of wellness and spirituality is paved with many distractions to weed out the unworthy. Many get lost in this completely and mistake this Maya for the truth. Miss Gwyneth is one of them.

I have beef with this bc some of Goop's stuff is stupid but harmless (vagina candles, anyone?) but other times, she literally spreads dangerous medical advice to a very large audience (just like Bella).

On her website, she has an article about how to treat 'Candida' (a real condition which she has approached in a very pseudoscientific way). The symptoms, like Bella's, are vague, and include bloating, dandruff, sugar cravings, a bad memory and fatigue. Diagnosis includes something called a urine organix dysbiosis test (Bella's diagnosis also included a liver dysbiosis lmao) , while treatment involves limiting yourself to one piece of fruit a day and “overpowering the yeast” with anti-fungal supplements.

In 2017, Paltrow suggested women should insert a $66 egg shaped jade or rose quartz stone into their vagina to help “increase vaginal muscle tone, hormonal balance, and feminine energy in general.” Users were encouraged to thread dental floss through a purpose-built hole to help with releasing the egg. After facing backlash from gynaecologists over its dubious health claims and potential harmful results including toxic shock syndrome, Goop settled a $145,000 lawsuit for “unsubstantiated” marketing claims.

In Daoist sexual teachings, this is actually a legit practice but a white woman appropriating it and then selling it does not sit right with me :// and also its to be used along with a strict spiritual practice and has to be performed according to proper techniques. Obviously eastern spirituality is suuuper commercialized in the west and its reduced to sticking jade eggs up inside you and misses the very important context and tradition its rooted in and also sticking factory produced and probably chemically treated anything INSIDE U, is not a good idea??

A 2018 detox guide recommended an at-home coffee enema kit to stimulate users’ intestines from the comfort of their own home. A couple of years later, while hooked up to a vitamin drip on The Art of Being Well podcast, Paltrow revealed she had also “used ozone therapy, rectally,” a procedure which involves pumping oxygen via catheter into the colon. Scientists immediately dismissed Paltrow’s health claims.

In 2017, Goop suggested that anyone who wanted to “rebalance the energy frequency in our bodies” should try placing Body Vibes stickers on their arms or near their heart. The site claimed the stickers ($120 for a pack of 24) were “made with the same conductive carbon material Nasa uses to line space suits so they can monitor an astronaut’s vitals”. A fact that was quickly debunked when Nasa confirmed that they “do not have any conductive carbon material lining the spacesuits.”

There's a lot more but I'll stop here for now. Gwyneth is convinced of the validity of her claims and does not see anything wrong with it. This is how Moon dominants are and thats what makes their manipulation so damaging.

Andrew Huberman- Rohini Moon

He is a neuroscientist and wellness podcaster called "Goop for bros".

His protocols for good living involve things like taking enormous amounts of expensive supplements, ensuring you view early morning sunlight for 10-30 minutes after waking, carefully timing when you drink coffee and plunging yourself in ice baths. (probiotics and supplements are a complete scam, there are studies proving they do absolutely nothing for u)

He has covered everything from creativity to hair loss and despite having no professional expertise on all the things he covers, he acts like he does lmao

Huberman was exposed for taking steroids to achieve his body while he was promoting "wellness" and telling people to take cold showers and work out and eat clean etc lmao. He also reportedly earned millions from running adverts for dietary products and wellness supplements.

He went from science expert to guru. He used to have discussions of how the brain and body respond to certain stimuli but later extended that to broad prescriptions for lifestyle and dietary modification which he is not qualified to do??

Last month he was exposed for having 5 different girlfriends who all thought they were in an exclusive relationship with him.

Sarah, says she was in a relationship with Huberman for around three years, and had been undergoing IVF treatment to have a child with him when she found he had been having unprotected sex with at least five other women at the same time.

Her suspicions were aroused when she contracted a high-risk form of HPV, a sexually transmitted infection linked to cervical cancer, despite having been tested for ten years.

Along with Sarah, others known only as Eve, Mary, Alex, and an unknown fifth and potentially sixth, were all romantically associated with him - some having been led to believe they were exclusive for years. All believed that other exes in Huberman’s life had been “stalkers, alcoholics, and compulsive liars” according to the report. (Moon dominants manipulating the truth to suit them)

“I’m at the stage of life where I truly want to build a family,” he told Eve while he was reportedly involved with several others. “That’s a resounding theme for me.”

Yet, despite the reassuring words he appeared to be chronically unreliable disappearing for extended periods of time with no indication of his whereabouts.

For a man interested in promoting personal growth, he also appeared to be unapologetic about deceiving his therapists, of which he has had several over the years.

“We were at dinner once and he told me something personal, and I suggested he talk to his therapist,” shared Eve. “He laughed it off like that wasn’t ever going to happen, so I asked him if he lied to his therapist. He told me he did all the time.”

Despite his dismissal of therapy, the podcaster appears to have maximised the use of “therapy-speak” to familiarise himself with the internal experiences of many women.

“I hear you are saying you are angry and hurt,” he texted Sarah as she discovered journal entries about his infidelity. “I will hear you as much and as long as needed for us.”

“Your feelings matter,” he told Eve on a day when he had injected his girlfriend Sarah with hCG as part of their IVF treatment. “I’m actually very much a caretaker.”

Discussing sex addiction with another woman, Huberman denied he was a sex addict instead referring to himself as a “love addict”.

On one day in March, the women realised that Huberman had flown Mary thousands of miles from Texas to LA to stay with him in Topanga, California, some six-hour drive from where Sarah stayed in Berkeley. On that same day, he left Mary at home with his dog as he drove to a coffee shop to meet Eve to have a serious conversation about their relationship.

Anywayyys, thats enough about him. He's a cheating, conniving, manipulative asshole.

Oprah Winfrey- Shravana Sun

Oprah has used her platform to air dangerous pseudoscience for decades.

In 2007, The Oprah Winfrey Show, the no. 1 talk show for 23 consecutive seasons, welcomed former Playboy model and MTV host Jenny McCarthy. 

The program gave McCarthy carte blanche to share a theory: that her son’s autism resulted from vaccines laced with hazardous chemicals. Despite a lack of concrete scientific evidence, McCarthy was lauded for her “warrior spirit” to speak up for other concerned moms. The lasting damage this has done to the country is concerning bc now it seems there are more antivaxxers than ever before.

The longest-reigning queen of daytime television promoted New Age scams, pushed unsustainable fad diets, and anointed problematic faith healers like John of God (now imprisoned) or pseudoscientific doctors like Dr. Oz. She sold us on magical thinking. 

Indeed, before the “Goop-ification of wellness,” there was the “Oprah-fication of medicine.”

In the ‘80s, Oprah helped fuel the satanic ritual abuse / repressed memories panic by interviewing folks like the author of the later-debunked memoir Michelle Remembers. In the ‘90s, she had “women’s health expert” Christiane Northrup—a quack physician who spewed nonsense like thyroid dysfunction stems from women not speaking up enough (an “energy blockage”), that love can heal AIDS, and mammograms aren’t safe—on her show 12 times. In the early aughts, she promoted the feel-good gibberish that is The Secret, insinuating positive thoughts were all that separated you from success, riches, and yes, even medical recoveries.

And remember when Oprah notoriously hosted Suzanne Somers in 2009? The actress touted injecting hormones directly into one’s vagina to stave off aging and menopausal hot flashes, along with downing 40 supplements daily.

Like Gwyneth and Huberman, Oprah sold pseudoscience to millions of people who didnt know any better to make hugeeee profits. I am pretty sure Bella will follow suit and also set up a vitamin supplement business in the near future and it will probably also be her downfall.

Song JiA- Shravana Moon

She became extremely popular after her appearance on the show Single's Inferno and there are hundreds of videos trying to analyse why all the men on that show went ape for her lol

But she was exposed for wearing fake designer stuff lmao?? Koreans be wilding

Her career came to a standstill after that and she hasn't done much since.

Agatha Christie, Hasta Moon & Mercury, Jupiter in Shravana in 1h

aside from the fact that she wrote murder mystery books that were known for misleading the reader (a more fun manifestation of Moon's tendency to manipulate?) she also had some other tendencies:

On the evening of Friday 3 December 1926, Agatha Christie left her home in Sunningdale, Berkshire, got into her car and disappeared into the night. Her disappearance sparked a manhunt involving the police, members of the public and famous figures and was lapped up by the tabloid press.

In the aftermath of Agatha’s disappearance both Archie Christie (her husband) and his mistress Nancy Neale were under suspicion and a huge manhunt was undertaken by thousands of policemen and eager volunteers. A local lake known as the Silent Pool was also dredged in case life had imitated art and Agatha had met the same fate of one of her unfortunate characters. Famous faces also waded in to the mystery with the then Home Secretary William Joynson-Hicks putting pressure on police to find the writer, and fellow mystery writer Sir Arthur Conan Doyle seeking the help of a clairvoyant to find Agatha using one of her gloves as a guide.

She was found living at a hotel under the name Theresa Neale (yeah she used the mistresses' last name). She apparently did not recognise her husband when he went to see her at the hotel and they divorced not long after?

The nature of the Moon is ever shifting, watery , always projecting and I think its interesting how Agatha, who found out about the affair pulled that stunt to cope perhaps. I have noticed this with many Moon dominants, if they learn of something depressing, they will immediately distract themselves with something else and pretend that issue is more concerning??? Or they will pull a stunt and redirect everybody's attention there. They are veryyy image conscious, so this could be bc of that. After all, being remembered for her strange disappearance is better than being perceived as the woman he cheated on and left, I guess.

St Vincent- Hasta Sun & Mercury, Shravana Moon

This is kinda innocuous but she lied about being a Kate Bush fan lol??

What I mean by this is that she said two different things on Kate Bush and on how she was introduced. In 2007 she was interviewed with Pitchfork and said "this may sound really silly-- but I just discovered Kate Bush, probably six months ago, and I think she's so great. I know I'm very late to the party here [ laughs ], I know this is old news, but I got a Kate Bush record, and I forget-- I think "The Dreaming" is on it, though I'm spacing on the name of the record. [The Dreaming --Ed.] It has Kate Bush in this totally miraculous ascot, too, on the back [ laughs ]. She just went for it. It's so great. She totally went for it." (http://pitchfork.com/features/guest-lists/6680-st-vincent/)

Now that doesn't sound so bad on it's own, but in 2014 during the Kate Bush documentary she said a completely different story on how she got introduced to Kate Bush around 46:47 and said "I still remember going to the CD World and buying The Sensual World when I was sixteen. And the cover, there’s a rose in front of her mouth that has bloomed, she’s got big wide eyes. And I remember, you know, putting it in the shitty car stereo on the way home, and you know, my life was forever changed.” (https://youtu.be/c4sLwt8mhZs?t=46m49s)

Its the detailll thats giving Moon dominant manipulation lmao

Alfred Nobel- Shravana Moon

 He is known for inventing dynamite as well as having bequeathed his fortune to establish the Nobel Prize. So now no one remembers him for being the horrible man he was lol.

He made millions selling explosives and then decided to manipulate his legacy as that of a philanthropist.

Mahatma Gandhi- Hasta Sun, Ashlesha Moon

In 1903, when Gandhi was in South Africa, he wrote that white people there should be "the predominating race." He also said black people "are troublesome, very dirty and live like animals."

Gandhi championed women in politics. But he was also obsessed with his own celibacy. In his late 70s, before he died at 78, he slept naked with his grandniece when she was in her late teens. He said he wanted to test his willpower to abstain from sex.

Gandhi denied life saving treatment to his wife. She was in bed, extremely sick from pneumonia and he refused to let the doctors administer her with penicillin.

Instead of giving her the medicine, Gandhi decided to fill the room with followers who sang devotional songs, as per the book. The next day, on 22nd February 1944, Kasturba Gandhi died. He said, “’How God has tested my faith! ‘If I had allowed you to give her penicillin, it could not have saved her. But it would have meant bankruptcy of faith on my part… And she passed away in my lap! Could it be better? I am happy beyond measure.”

Going by the rigidness of Gandhi against modern medicine, one may think he had observed the same for himself and other associates. But the case was different. Interestingly, records show that he had undergone repeated medical tests and surgery throughout his life though Kasturba was denied penicillin.

Manu was Gandhi’s grandniece and was used by him as one of the participants in his so-called ‘experiments with celibacy’ where he used to sleep naked with girls and had naked girls bathe him. She was often seen with Gandhi, who used her and Abha, another grandniece, as support while walking.

Manuben’s diaries revealed that Gandhi used to control almost every aspect of her life, including food, education, sleeping, rest schedule, and even the clothes she wore. She even used to sleep in the same bed with him.

Moon dominants twist the truth as and when it suits them. They can be controlling, manipulative liars who parade around as virtuous, kind hearted and generous people. Most people on this list have a good reputation. This is the danger of Moon influence; very few people see the darkness that truly lurks within them.

Obviously this only applies to unevolved Lunar people<3

[princessbrunette]

the readers bedrooms ♡

puppy!reader

her bedroom looks something like this. very girly in the delicate way where you can tell she hasn’t really done much redecoration from when she was a little girl. a little bit less neat than these pictures, and always has crumbs in her bed that john b has to dust off before he gets in— muttering something along the lines of “how do these even get in here, pup?”

has a lot of random stuff that doesn’t go with the aesthetic of her room just from finding them at yard sales / thrift stores and was unable to part with them like ratty teddy bears and lava lamps that she sometimes sits infront of and stares at for ages and loses track of time completely. lots and lots of polaroids of her with her loved ones hung up. pics of her w the pogues, fav family members, john b, a random polaroid of rafe with his thumbs up and no one even knows when she took it or why or why rafe looks so friendly it’s honestly a mystery

kitty!reader

always a little on the messier side. bed is haphazardly made for when jj comes over (as if he cares) and she has a clothing rail that’s always overflowing with outfit choices and shoes. lots of posters and random trinkets. definitely has a knife or something stuck in the wall from a fit of rage and now uses it to hang up underwear or jewellery. a pair of handcuffs on her wall just for decoration.

her bed has to be veryyy soft and comfortable because she is so sleepy and will sleep all day if you let her. this being said, she spends a lot of time on the floor too. whether jj is finding her curled up napping on the carpet when he comes over, or she’s wanting to play fight with him on the rug and eventually end up holding him close and riding him when the bed is right there.

bunny!reader

very very organised for all her fashion / self care related items. she may be ditsy but she has a very specific way she likes all her girly stuff to be organised so she knows exactly where to find it when she’s getting ready. the only times she really gets cross with rafe and starts thumping her foot about is when he comes over and curiously starts looking through her stuff and ruining her whole system.

her bedroom is literally a pink princess palace, honestly took rafe a while to get used to all the pink — and he can never hide where he is in pictures etc because everyone knows your iconic bedroom from your instagram!

deer!reader

getting her own post because there’s a lot of stuff to her bedroom and i want to go through it all <3

[shrimpswritingblog]

Lol hii :3 i saw your post and you seem cute 🩷

I wanted to req hcs for reader being Daisuke's older or younger sibling please? Whatever one you think fits best is okay!

Thank youuu and have a nice day ❣️

۶ৎ Daisuke & Younger Sibling!GN!Reader HCs

《 A/N: First things first—haii!! Thank you sm for the sweet message (You seem awesome as well :D) and omg YES absolutely!! I love this request and ended up writng a lot (this was so fun??) so thank youuuuu for requesting and have a great day!! (Not proofread and probs OOC so 🙏🙏) 》

───────────── ۶ৎ ──────────────

"My baby sibling is, like, a genius!! Could probably fix the whole ship on their own if they wanted to!"

───────────── ۶ৎ ──────────────

🔧 Okay, so TWO nepo babies are on the Tulpar!

🔧 JKJK, it's lowkey true but whatevs

🔧You and Daisuke are COMPLETE opposites, like two sides of a coin

🔧You are academically intelligent and socially reserved—the complete opposite of your brother!

🔧 While Daisuke played junior basketball, you were busy entering science fairs, winning olympiads and networking.

🔧 You were on the verge of being burnt out before you even turned 20!

🔧 After doing well in highschool and getting various certifications, you'd gotten multiple job offers in fields that...you just realized you didn't even like...?

🔧 But, (un)fortunately for you, you had found about Pony Express.

🔧 It was perfect, an internship! Finally a break from your overbearing parents—you could figure your life out in the meanwhile, gain mentorship, actually socialize and GO TO SPACE?? It was perfect, it was everything you needed, it—

🔧 "—would perfect for Daisuke to come along with you sweetie!" Your mother beamed.

🔧 Wait...what?

🔧 “H-huh?” you stammered, heart sinking as your eyes darted from your mother’s too-sweet smile to your father’s enthusiastic nod. A lump rose in your throat.

You barely registered your mom’s voice as your heart thudded in your chest—she was saying something about how Daisuke was such a slacker, how you were their golden child, their saving grace, and how maybe this trip would motivate him.

🔧 So, a 382-day space trip with the brother you haven't even had a real conversation with in...who knows how long.

🔧 Just your luck.

🔧 But you couldn’t back out—not now. You’d already turned down all those job offers, and if you bailed, your parents would kill you! Besides, they needed you to babysit him, apparently. You just wanted what you always wanted as a kid...their approval.

🔧And so, you board the Tulpar.

🔧Immediately, the crew members mistake you for the older sibling. Doesn't matter if you're shorter than him, based on your...contrasting personalities, they assume you're the older one.

🔧 And the realization dawns on you that you're practically stuck with five four strangers!

🔧 Despite your differences, you were always admired Daisuke's social ease and ability to make friends anywhere.

🔧 However, the ship forces helps you socialize, especially since you work with the same mentor as your brother majority of the week.

🔧 Swansea respects your technical knowledge but is slightly unnerved by how different you are from Daisuke.

🔧Swansea sometimes asks you to explain concepts to Daisuke, knowing you’ve got more patience and a better knack for breaking things down in a way that actually clicks with him.

🔧 You look up to Swansea's practical expertise, often seeking mentorship in areas your academic knowledge doesn't cover

🔧 But, your true hero is the blonde captain of the Tulpar, you guessed it, Curly!

🔧 He's the top of the ship's command chain—so you definitely geek out, which shocks majority of the crew because you've been so quiet in the first couple of weeks and it pisses Jimmy the fuck off.

🔧 You question him about how he got to his position, what were his extracurriculars, everything!

🔧 "What's it like being Captain?? I'm having a lot of trouble rethinking my entire life–I mean, I only did it for my parent's love and acceptance—how do you picked the right career path—how did you know that becoming captain is all you ever wanted to be?—"

The final question catches Curly off guard. He freezes mid-motion, a flicker of discomfort flashing across his face before he quickly masks it with a smile.

His gaze darts around the room, searching for a distraction, anything to avoid your eyes. But eventually, his blue eyes return to yours—eyes that are too bright, almost painfully so, filled with barely contained hope. His own eyes flicker with pity. In that moment, he...sees himself in you.

“I… just...had a calling.” he says, lying through his teeth.

"Wow!" You squeal. "You must be so responsible, how do you take such responsibility?"

T̶͓͝A̷̙͑K̴̘͐E̵͚̔ ̴͔͑R̸̼͋E̴̙̎S̸̻̎Ṗ̵̩Ô̷̩N̶̯̕S̸̹̍Ȉ̶̦B̷̙̽Ȉ̷̪L̶͍͝Ị̵͆T̵̨̄Y̶̵͓̘͛̓Ţ̷͠A̸͎̓K̶̖͐E̶̦̋ ̸̡̈Ŕ̵̗E̶͎̚S̷̨̈́P̴̙̍Ŏ̸̭N̵̨̿S̷̰͛I̶̻͋B̵̩͝Ḭ̶̓L̴̛̯Ỉ̷̠T̶̥̈Y̵̴̻͍͂͝Ț̶̆A̸͒ͅK̸̻̾E̷͗͜ ̸̱̕R̶̩̄E̸̒ͅS̶̼͊P̵̱͝O̵̱̅N̶̻͌S̸̝͊I̸͎̐B̷̠͗I̴̩̿L̵̢͑I̶̺͌T̵͖̆Ỳ̴̴̭̱͛T̵̼͛Ȃ̷̖K̴͍̆Ȅ̸͖ ̸̡̓Ṟ̶́E̴̘͑Ś̸̱P̸̨̿O̷̟̍N̸̰̽Ś̶̥İ̸̖B̴̭̒Ì̶ͅĹ̶̼I̵̦̓T̸͖̀Y̴̷̮͇̾̃T̴̥̓À̶̮K̷̖̈́E̸̩̎ ̴̥̓R̴̩̂Ë̸̮́S̴̠͠P̶̾ͅÔ̴̯N̸͎̓S̷̤̔Ị̶̃B̴̛̝Ỉ̶͉L̵͖̈́I̴̬͌T̶̥͝Ỳ̴̦ T̶͓͝A̷̙͑K̴̘͐E̵͚̔ ̴͔͑R̸̼͋E̴̙̎S̸̻̎Ṗ̵̩Ô̷̩N̶̯̕S̸̹̍Ȉ̶̦B̷̙̽Ȉ̷̪L̶͍͝Ị̵͆T̵̨̄Y̶̵͓̘͛̓Ţ̷͠A̸͎̓K̶̖͐E̶̦̋ ̸̡̈Ŕ̵̗E̶͎̚S̷̨̈́P̴̙̍Ŏ̸̭N̵̨̿S̷̰͛I̶̻͋B̵̩͝Ḭ̶̓L̴̛̯Ỉ̷̠T̶̥̈Y̵̴̻͍͂͝Ț̶̆A̸͒ͅK̸̻̾E̷͗͜ ̸̱̕R̶̩̄E̸̒ͅS̶̼͊P̵̱͝O̵̱̅N̶̻͌S̸̝͊I̸͎̐B̷̠͗I̴̩̿L̵̢͑I̶̺͌T̵͖̆Ỳ̴̴̭̱͛T̵̼͛Ȃ̷̖K̴͍̆Ȅ̸͖ ̸̡̓Ṟ̶́E̴̘͑Ś̸̱P̸̨̿O̷̟̍N̸̰̽Ś̶̥İ̸̖B̴̭̒Ì̶ͅĹ̶̼I̵̦̓T̸͖̀Y̴̷̮͇̾̃T̴̥̓À̶̮K̷̖̈́E̸̩̎ ̴̥̓R̴̩̂Ë̸̮́S̴̠͠P̶̾ͅÔ̴̯N̸͎̓S̷̤̔Ị̶̃B̴̛̝Ỉ̶͉L̵͖̈́I̴̬͌T̶̥͝Ỳ̴̦ T̶͓͝A̷̙͑K̴̘͐E̵͚̔ ̴͔͑R̸̼͋E̴̙̎S̸̻̎Ṗ̵̩Ô̷̩N̶̯̕S̸̹̍Ȉ̶̦B̷̙̽Ȉ̷̪L̶͍͝Ị̵͆T̵̨̄Y̶̵͓̘͛̓Ţ̷͠A̸͎̓K̶̖͐E̶̦̋ ̸̡̈Ŕ̵̗E̶͎̚S̷̨̈́P̴̙̍Ŏ̸̭N̵̨̿S̷̰͛I̶̻͋B̵̩͝Ḭ̶̓L̴̛̯Ỉ̷̠T̶̥̈Y̵̴̻͍͂͝Ț̶̆A̸͒ͅK̸̻̾E̷͗͜ ̸̱̕R̶̩̄E̸̒ͅS̶̼͊P̵̱͝O̵̱̅N̶̻͌S̸̝͊I̸͎̐B̷̠͗I̴̩̿L̵̢͑I̶̺͌T̵͖̆Ỳ̴̴̭̱͛T̵̼͛Ȃ̷̖K̴͍̆Ȅ̸͖ ̸̡̓Ṟ̶́E̴̘͑Ś̸̱P̸̨̿O̷̟̍N̸̰̽Ś̶̥İ̸̖B̴̭̒Ì̶ͅĹ̶̼I̵̦̓T̸͖̀Y̴̷̮͇̾̃T̴̥̓À̶̮K̷̖̈́E̸̩̎ ̴̥̓R̴̩̂Ë̸̮́S̴̠͠P̶̾ͅÔ̴̯N̸͎̓S̷̤̔Ị̶̃B̴̛̝Ỉ̶͉L̵͖̈́I̴̬͌T̶̥͝Ỳ̴̦ T̶͓͝A̷̙͑K̴̘͐E̵͚̔ ̴͔͑R̸̼͋E̴̙̎S̸̻̎Ṗ̵̩Ô̷̩N̶̯̕S̸̹̍Ȉ̶̦B̷̙̽Ȉ̷̪L̶͍͝Ị̵͆T̵̨̄Y̶̵͓̘͛̓Ţ̷͠A̸͎̓K̶̖͐E̶̦̋ ̸̡̈Ŕ̵̗E̶͎̚S̷̨̈́P̴̙̍Ŏ̸̭N̵̨̿S̷̰͛I̶̻͋B̵̩͝Ḭ̶̓L̴̛̯Ỉ̷̠T̶̥̈Y̵̴̻͍͂͝Ț̶̆A̸͒ͅK̸̻̾E̷͗͜ ̸̱̕R̶̩̄E̸̒ͅS̶̼͊P̵̱͝O̵̱̅N̶̻͌S̸̝͊I̸͎̐B̷̠͗I̴̩̿L̵̢͑I̶̺͌T̵͖̆Ỳ̴̴̭̱͛T̵̼͛Ȃ̷̖K̴͍̆Ȅ̸͖ ̸̡̓Ṟ̶́E̴̘͑Ś̸̱P̸̨̿O̷̟̍N̸̰̽Ś̶̥İ̸̖B̴̭̒Ì̶ͅĹ̶̼I̵̦̓T̸͖̀Y̴̷̮͇̾̃T̴̥̓À̶̮K̷̖̈́E̸̩̎ ̴̥̓R̴̩̂Ë̸̮́S̴̠͠P̶̾ͅÔ̴̯N̸͎̓S̷̤̔Ị̶̃B̴̛̝Ỉ̶͉L̵͖̈́I̴̬͌T̶̥͝Ỳ̴̦

🔧 Now, onto Anya! You first went to her for help with a repetitive strain injury in your wrists, caused by all your journaling and gadget tinkering you did outside of your mentoring sessions with Swansea.

🔧 Anya appreciates having another quieter person on the ship and often seeks you out during breaks.

🔧 You usually hang out the most when you, Anya and Daisuke play board games together.

🔧You've offered to help organize the medical inventory system which gives you a reason to check on Anya regularly and...also see Curly post-crash.

🔧 Which leads you to having your first convo with...ugh, Jimmy.

🔧In the midst of reshelving a few psychology books, the doors to the medicine room hiss open, and Jimmy steps through.

🔧His brown eyes scan the room for a moment before they land on you and he explains gruffly that he came into the medicine room to give Curly his meds.

🔧Knowing him, he'd groan under his breath saying something about how reorganizing the bookshelves were pointless and you should make yourself 'useful'.

🔧Prior to this you hadn't even spoken to the jackass! What the hell?!

🔧 He would absolutely make jabs at you for your age and 'attitude'. (it's literally your resting face stfu)

🔧 You never trusted Jimmy one BIT, despite being awful at social cues...he was off.

🔧 Jimmy initially tried to manipulate you the same way he does Daisuke but quickly realized you see through his tactics and don't trust him in the slightest—even after he becomes 'Captain' of the ship.

🔧 He secretly wants you to compliment and harrass him with so many questions like you did with Curly to fuel his ego but it's never happening.

🔧 Despite having such few interactions in the following months, you've caught Jimmy in so many lies, it's not even funny.

🔧Finally, onto your older brother, Daisuke!

🔧If there's one good thing about the trip is that it repaired your relationship with your brother!

🔧You always felt protective of Daisuke despite being younger, often covering for his mistakes at home when you could and now on the ship.

🔧You keep an emergency stash of Daisuke's favorite snacks hidden in their quarters for when he's having a rough day.

🔧Even though you and Daisuke are very different, you have the exact same laugh. It surprises the crew whenever they hear you laugh (which doesn't happen often).

🔧You can recite pi to 314 digits, something Daisuke likes to show off to others: "Tell them the pi thing!"

🔧When you finally connect, things start looking up for you.

🔧 Even though you put up a front, you always have an will look up to Daisuke.

🔧 And as such, he would always give you high-fives, hugs and fist-bumps!

🔧You usually chat at night when everyone else is asleep (because you both got sugar rushes after snacking on some rations) and admire the glowing moon and deep blues that accompany it on the big screen and end up talking about life.

🔧The two of you cover a lot: how he struggles to find meaning in life, how he often feels useless.

🔧When you admit you’ve been dealing with the same thing, his reaction is instant.

“W-What?! You, Y/N?!” His eyebrows knit together, eyes wide as he throws his hands in the air like you just confessed to robbing a bank. “I mean, our parents love—no, worship you!”

🔧 You both talk about going back to the arcade you guys used to visit when you were younger, getting interviewed in the press, finding your dream jobs and maybe hitting a thrift store once help finally arrives.

🔧 If only.

[friend-of-giants]

○○ WIP Wednesday/Wednesday Wrensday ○○

Tagged so far by @theoneandonlysemla @skyrim-forever and @labskeever! Thank ye kindly <3

I'll tag @vervayyn @sheirukitriesfandom @heavy-metal-dick @lucien-lachance @umbracirrus @pocket-vvardvark @juniperberries-canisroot and YOU, yes you reading this!

Sharing a snip of writing this week, since I haven't had time to draw. I do have a Brynjolf planned from my post last week where I asked for different NPCs to tackle, but all I have so far are a few ref pics 😅 It's been a busy few days, but I hope to get some art and writing done in the near future!

Context, Wren just heard about a nearby dragon attack that ruined Shor's Stone, and she's been summoned to go kill it. But first, dinner. PS: Hofgrir Horse-Crusher has dogs because I said so.

All afternoon [Wren] had been looking forward to dinner, but now, as she pulled their steaks from the cooking grate and saw the charred, sizzling meat, her stomach began to churn.  She'd be seeing more of that in the near future, and it wouldn't be edible. 

At the table, Teldryn picked at his food, managing to eat half of his steak and two bites of potato.  Her own potato was gone completely, and her steak remained whole, save for a single piece of meat stuck on the end of her fork.  She couldn't bring herself to put it in her mouth.  

“Food's good,” he said, gesturing to her plate with his knife.  “Aren't you going to finish it?”

“Tough talk for someone who can't even finish his own,” she muttered.  “And no, I can't.  I've lost my appetite.”  

Memories of Helgen flashed in her mind; the stench of death and dragonfire, the bodies littering the roads, the thick clouds of flies swarming the dead.  It was the first time she'd witnessed what a dragon was capable of, how easily one could take so many innocent lives with so little effort.  To know that she held that same power, to render living beings to…

She looked back down to her steak, the crispy edges and the juices pooling on the plate, and suppressed a gag before shoving it away.  

“I have trouble eating when I'm nervous, too,” Teldryn admitted.  “Makes me feel like heaving my guts.”

Nervous wasn't how she would describe the sheer disgust she felt, but thought better of correcting him.  “Aye, me too.  Might go see if Hofgrir's dogs want my leftovers, then go see what the Jarl wants.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

🍜 Chomp Chomp with Myishu: Valentine’s Day Feast!

Yo, food friends!

Me back again, and this time? ROMANCE TIME. ❤️❤️❤️ Me hear humans do special love-food on Valentine's Day, so me say YES YES, GOOD IDEA! Love and food? Same thing!

Me make two fancy, yummy, extra-wow recipes for you and your heart-person (or just for YOU, because self-love is best love too).

🍝 Rassilon's Rich & Lovely Rose Pasta

What you need:

2 big cups of fettuccine pasta from Earth

½ cup of Gallifreyan sun-dried rose petals (or dried tomatoes if no petals near)

3 cloves of space garlic (Earth garlic okay too, but less sparkly)

½ cup of black olives (or normal green ones if scared)

½ cup of golden goat cheese (or Parmesan from Earth cows)

2 spoons of heartfruit oil (or good olive oil)

½ cup of sweet pink fizz (or white wine if no fizz)

How to make:

🔥 Boil pasta until soft like Time Lord robes.

🔪 Chop garlic, olives, and rose petals—not too small! Must still see!

🫕 Heat heartfruit oil in pan, then cook garlic and olives for 2 minutes.

🌹 Add rose petals and pink fizz—let them dance in the pan!

🍝 Mix in pasta, toss toss!

🧀 Sprinkle golden cheese on top. Serve warm, serve fancy, eat happy.

Me promise—this one makes hearts go boom-boom! 💘

🍫 Twin Hearts Chocolate Fondue

What you need:

1 big bar of Gallifreyan chocolate (or dark chocolate, if stuck on Earth)

½ cup of smooth moon-milk (or heavy cream)

Tiny pinch of star-pepper spice (Earth cinnamon also nice)

Fruits for dipping! Strawberries, marshmallows, biscuits, ALL GOOD.

1 teaspoon of honey from a Time Bee (Earth honey fine, but less dramatic)

How to make:

🔥 Melt chocolate and moon-milk together in small pot—stir slow, no panic!

✨ Add tiny pinch of star-pepper for oooh spicy! feeling.

🍯 Drizzle honey on top for extra love-magic.

🍓 Dip fruits, biscuits, anything you like!

Me say double hearts = double chocolate = double happiness. ❤️❤️

TRY THEM! CHOMP CHOMP!

Make for love-person, make for best friend, make for just YOU! Send pics of your cooking—messy or neat, all good fun!

CHOMP CHOMP, YAY! 💕

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴