#i had to pause bc i got overwhelmed

[engagemythrusters]

FINALLY watching Tatooine Rhapsody and

hes so cute what the heck

[sincerecinnamon]

I'm really enjoying a show, and some ways I can tell if I'm enjoying a piece of fiction is if I:

A. Have to take breaks while consuming it (in this case, pausing it a lot, but when I was in 4th grade, I periodically shut the book for a minute to really take in and dwell on everything I was watching)

B. Laugh, not only at the jokes, but also from the cleverness of the writing

C. Find myself getting emotional over the characters and situations and really connecting with it

And, for bonus points, D. Found it because of another (potentially related) hyperfixation

[caimitos]

thinking abt quitting my job 🤗

[oldbaton]

I am! In very bad shape lately.

[meganegatari]

before you read ▪︎ loose continuation to THIS

ultra loser!ellie x teasing(slightly sadistic tbh)!reader. reads fine as a standalone!! no fr sex, but still nsfw!!! loads of teasing, ellie's shy and flustered (also gave her glasses and piercings muahahah AND HAPPY TRAIL MENTION YAYYY), reader's a little insistent (but it's ok), mentions of masturbation, discussion of sex, REALLY horny making out at the end lol, heavy petting, they almost do it, tiny abby cameo, buildup AS PER USUAL YALL KNOW THE DRILL, kinda cliffhanger ending (its on purpose HAHA), different layout bc i cheated n looked at the poll oops...NGL TS HAD ME SWEATINGGG WRITING IT LMFAO don't think i have ever written something more horny....ok enjoy! + 2.2k wc

apparently both of you missed the professor's class cancellation email on this fateful day… other students showed up too, but they left quickly after seeing it was empty. ellie stayed to catch up on some work, enjoying the silence and typing away on her laptop, which looked like one of those beefy gaming computers.

covered in stickers and the keys changing color, you thought it was interesting she'd lug that thing around campus with her, instead of opting for something light and sleek. and now that leaves you. you had no other plans for the day, and had already mentally prepared yourself for this class, totally unaware it was canceled.

you realized it wasn't a bad idea to copy ellie, and catch up on some of your own work. however you were more intrigued by her, to be totally honest with yourself.

watching her from a distance, she captivated you. she never seemed to notice your stares, too absorbed in her thoughts. you watched her type, efficiently and quickly, pausing only to push her glasses further up her nose with her slim fingers.

the truth is, she's hot. but no one was hearing you out on that, unfortunately. they'd say to you, “what a loser! i don't think i've ever heard her talk.”

you felt overwhelmed by the urge to strike up a real conversation with her—more that simple greetings or coursework questions— and it was the perfect opportunity to do just that. so you got up, sat yourself down in the empty spot right next to her, and put on the most charming grin you could muster up. she abruptly snapped out of her focus, almost flinching at your presence.

“hey! you're ellie, right? whatcha working on?” you got close to her to see, being met with a bunch of hieroglyphic-looking strings of symbols on the screen. woah, smarty-pants. “um, it's just…some project, i dunno. how d’you know my name?”

she finally looked at you, her eyes round, wider than the ufo saucer stickers on the back of her computer. they were so green, the hazel ring reminded you of a polished agate stone. the scattered freckles on her face were so pretty too, you'd never been close enough to her to really take notice. she nervously scanned your features, blotches of pink blush decorating the apples of her plump cheeks.

she was so cute, and noticing her evident shyness flipped a switch inside you, what if you messed with her a little?

you shrugged at her, “just seen you around. you're so mysterious.” you lilt, manipulating your tone to make it smoother on the ears, even containing hints of seduction if you dared.

she blushed a deeper raspberry shade and looked down at her hands, fidgeting with her rings. she was somehow getting more attractive by the second, your heart felt like it was about to burst.

“am i? never thought of it that way, you're funny.” she mumbles, her antsiness obvious. but you didn't wish to let up so soon, you were having a lot more fun flustering her than you'd ever care to admit, even wanting to see just how far you could push her.

“ooh, i love your rings. where did you get em?” “just…places. why are you asking me so many questions?” you sighed and rolled your eyes, “well, ellie. we both don't have anything else to do, gotta pass the time somehow. i wanna talk with you, is that okay?” she took a deep breath and nodded, visibly relaxing. she stretched out her arm to get rid of the tabs on her computer, close it, and put it in her bag, which is when you got a look at her forearm tattoo.

“also i'm obsessed with your tattoo, you have no idea how cool you are, how are girls not all over you?” you question, taking her wrist in your hands and examining the tattoo's intricate line work, tracing your fingertips over the pigment in her skin.

you heard her breathing change in tempo, quickening ever so slightly. but she didn't move her arm away, and let you continue. she took a second to respond. “um. thanks, i guess. i don't really know what you mean.” her voice cracked when she said the last part, igniting a flame inside you, one that you didn't know existed.

your mind wandered, you began wondering what she sounds like when she whimpers. was she really so starved of human contact you could mold her like putty, just with your fingers and tongue? you wanted to find out so badly, wanted to hear how she'd cry your name out if you fucked her into oblivion. was she a squirter or a creamer? you hoped to the heavens above you'd get to find out someday. maybe it was too much to fantasize like this, considering you formally met just now, but you weren't hurting anyone if it all never left the confines of your mind.

you were lucky you hid your own arousal well, nothing out of the ordinary showed on your face whatsoever. ellie wasn't so lucky—to her dismay, but to your delight—everything played out on her delicate features so clearly, it was nothing short of delectable. 

your eyes bore into hers, the intensity of the eye contact making her shiver, and attempt to break it. “ellie, ellie, ellie, may i call you els?” you didn't wait for an answer, and continued, “do you have a girlfriend?” you pouted your lips at her, feigning sadness as if her response was something you didn't already infer.

she was stuttering now, stumbling over her words, making less and less sense as the conversation went on. she was anxiously bouncing her leg, you could see her chest rising and falling, and her face had turned a lovely crimson color, it was so strong, the flush had spread down her neck and reached her ears, making her piercings stand out. good lord. 

“ahem- no, i don't have a girlfriend. actually never have, shocking i know.” she chuckles at her self-deprecating joke, and while her smile was enough to light up a room, you wanted to slap the doubt out of her. or rather, fuck it out of her. 

you exhaled loudly, “hahh, well isn't that a shame. you're so pretty, i'll just have to snatch you up for myself then.” she swallowed audibly, greatly taken aback. “sorry, what?” “oh, don't you know how much people love losers like you? tsk tsk tsk, you're so much hotter than you realize, i mean it, els. look at you! you've got these piercings, this tattoo, you're smarter than this whole class combined, seriously.” 

she just gaped at you, unable to process what she was hearing. no one had ever talked to her like this, it was only something she read about. and coming from you? this ethereal person who starred in all of her most intimate fantasies? she rubbed her eyes roughly, convinced she was hallucinating. her mouth opened and closed dumbly, her voice box failing to produce any sound. but you were affecting her so much, especially because she lusted after you to an extent she could only take to the grave.

flashes of her midnight escapades flickered in her mind, of her shoving her hand down her pants like an animal in heat, orgasming so intensely she'd black out, abusing her hole with nothing but images of you playing in her mind, and your name on her tongue. her cheeks burned with the embarrassment of her wild actions, and she shook her head to clear the thoughts away. 

you groaned and leaned back in your own seat, exclaiming, “god i'm so bored. and pent up, fuck. it's been so long since i had sex…” that was true. in any other situation you'd never say something like that aloud, but because you were alone with the clueless idiot you wanted so carnally, you let it slip. 

“...maybe you should take care of that.” you heard her cough out, her voice coming out strangled. “i could. but that's boring.” you opened your eyes again and smirked devilishly her way, poor girl looked like she was about to go on a trip with the ferryman. 

you grabbed her hand, examining it some more, commenting, “you play guitar, don't you? guitarists are very good with their hands, i will say.” you played with her hand, pressing it into a fist, then extending her middle and ring finger. gosh, what's gotten into you? “i bet you're sooo good.” 

you've never seen a person look more flustered than she did right now in this moment. her voice was impossibly quiet, barely above a whisper, “cut it out.” “okay, fine.”

some beats of silence passed, but a thought crossed your mind. if she really hated this interaction that much, she could have got up and left eons ago, yet she stayed here and endured it all. hmm. you blurted out, “els, have you kissed anyone before?” 

and again she stayed silent, even after you waited patiently for an answer. she kept looking away, her jaw tense. 

you decided to quit the teasing just for a moment, and speak to her gently, genuinely. you shifted to sit a little closer to her and asked, “do you want to?” her gaze locked onto your mouth, she licked her lips, then muttered, “if you're really offering and not just fucking with me, sure-” 

your patience broke and you didn't wait for her to finish her sentence before swiftly leaning forward and connecting your lips with hers, relishing the tiny gasp she made as soon as you did it. she tasted like a dream.

after a split second she kissed you back, it was inexperienced and clumsy, fueled by adrenaline, but she got into a rhythm soon enough. you took the lead and deepened the kiss, absent-mindedly tugging on her bottom lip with your teeth, coaxing eager whimpers out of her, pure music to your ears.

you succumbed to the sensations and increased the pace, your tongue dancing against hers. you felt her hands fumble by your waist, and she pulled you closer to her. your hands clawed at her chest, the beautiful symphony of panting, the wet smacking of your lips colliding, and her uncontrolled moans filled the empty room.

she gripped your waist so tightly, fingertips surely leaving small marks in their wake, you couldn't wait to find them later, and you shamelessly felt up her chest, your thumbs finding her nipples—perky, hard, and poking out through her thin shirt. you caressed and rubbed and squeezed, feeling her jolt under your magical touch.

she was fully whining now. spilling needy, high-pitched sounds, this was better than you could've ever imagined. neither one of you breaking the kiss for even a second, your hand trailed lower and landed on her stomach, slipping under the bottom of her shirt. you felt her defined abs tensing, and the whisper of a happy trail—now it was your turn to moan.

she got even louder and her kisses got sloppier, and you were about to venture inside her waistband before a sudden sound startled you both. 

your phone vibrated aggressively, and with great effort you separated yourself from ellie, long strings of spit connecting you to her still.

she whimpered from the loss of contact, chasing your lips, then huffing and quietly groaning while you took out your phone, her hands not letting go of your waist. when you checked it, it was a message from your friend, abby, just saying: URGENT. COME HERE NOW. ASAP.

fuck her. fuck her and her timing, was all you could think. really, now? you wanted to kill her.

trying to slow your breathing and racing heart, you explained apologetically, “ugh, it's urgent. im so, so sorry ellie, i gotta go.” she stared at you, speechless, but nodded meekly, reluctantly retracting her arms. you didn't want to leave, and stayed gazing at her for a little longer, and brushed a loose strand of soft hair out of her face. what a cutie, she looked all disheveled and dazed. you were about to look for a paper to scribble down your number to keep in touch, until your phone buzzed again, and started ringing with abby's repeated attempts to get ahold of you. couldn't she wait a minute?

you gave ellie one last devastated look, getting up and rushing out of the classroom before abby called you another seventeen times. 

ellie was left in the classroom, reeling from the encounter and what it had turned into. she was utterly bewildered at the events that transpired, her blood rushing in her ears, mind spinning, lips still puffy, glasses fogged over, hands trembling, and of course a sticky, uncomfortable damp spot in her boxers. she leaned forward to rest her head on the desk in front of her on top of crossed arms, to take a moment to cool down before escaping back to her place. 

“holy shit.” 

im horny🧍‍♂️just like ellie after that. as soon as she got home, u best believe she came so hard she saw literal angels and deities LMFAOO (this is my favorite thing ive ever written gawdDAYUM)

yall who wanted more, hope this suffices as a continuation! @stonerzdaze420692 @womenlvrrr

[banzonism]

WE FOUND LOVE (In a Hopeless Place)

one-shot

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: romance, fluff, drama, comedy

tags: ceo jk! rich jk! fashion model reader! cute jk! jjk x jjk crossover! slight enemies to lover! friends to lovers!

synopsis: In a string of chance encounters, two people from wildly different worlds, find themselves inexplicably drawn to one another. Maybe the universe has been orchestrating something all along. In a swirl of laughter, longing, and love, they begin to wonder if they have finally found what they didn’t even know they were searching for. The beauty of emerging from brokenness, love blossoming in the least expected circumstances, proving that sometimes, even in the most hopeless places, love has a way of finding you.

words count: 8.6k

notes: this is my first one shot jjk ff ahhh i've been thinking about this plot for a while bc of that one jungkook pic above hehe anyway enjoy reading <3

Las Vegas.

Being a fashion model is a balancing act. It’s not just about walking runways or posing for editorial spreads. It’s late nights rehearsing a flawless walk, early mornings enduring hours of hair and makeup, and constant flights between fashion capitals. You are not a household name like some models, you have made your mark. Campaigns for high-end brands, covers on major fashion magazines, and being a regular on exclusive runways have earned you recognition. Your career is steady—not overwhelming but enough to keep you in rooms where champagne flows freely and the conversation sparkles.

Tonight was one of those nights.

You had been invited by Jung Hoseok, a longtime friend and one of the most talented designers you know, to celebrate his latest collection's success. The show had been a triumph, and you were one of the faces of his collection, walking the Vegas runway in his stunning designs. His exclusive afterparty was being held at a swanky bar one of those places where entry was practically currency itself.

You smoothed the fabric of your dress, a slinky black piece by Versace, clinging to you in all the right places. Its thigh-high slit revealed just enough leg to make heads turn without screaming trying too hard. Your hair fell effortlessly in soft waves, and your Louboutin heels clicked against the pavement as you arrived.

The air was electric when you walked in. Crystal chandeliers hung like jewels from the ceiling, the bar gleamed under dim lights, and the room buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses. Hoseok, in his signature vibrant suit, caught sight of you and immediately waved you over.

“Y/N!” he beamed, pulling you into a hug. “You look stunning as always.”

“Thank you! And congratulations, Hobi. The show was incredible,” you said genuinely. “Every single piece was a masterpiece. You have outdone yourself.”

His grin widened. “You’re too kind, but coming from you, it means the world.”

You settled into easy conversation, sipping on champagne as the night unfolded. Hoseok glowed with pride—not just from the success of his show, but also from something more personal. You raised an eyebrow when he let slip he had been in a healthy relationship.

“Six months, huh?” you teased. “That’s practically married in fashion industry terms!”

He laughed, his grin wide. “I know, right? But she’s amazing. Keeps me grounded, calls me out when I’m being too extra—which is all the time, obviously.”

You smirked, leaning back in your chair. “That’s got to be the longest relationship you have ever had, right? Should we celebrate that too?”

Hoseok gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like you had just wounded him. “Excuse me! I’ll have you know I have had plenty of long relationships!”

“Oh, really? Name one.” you raised an eyebrow, thoroughly enjoying his flustered expression.

“Well…” He paused, clearly scrambling. “There was… uh…”

“That’s what I thought.” you laughed, shaking your head. “It’s okay, Hobi. We’re all proud of you for finally breaking your three-month streak.”

“You’re impossible,” he grumbled, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. “Maybe I should start giving you relationship advice now, since I’m apparently the expert.”

“Oh, please,” you snorted. “You’re one more text away from being whipped, and we both know it.”

“Fine, fine,” he conceded, holding his hands up. “When are you going to get yourself a man? I’m going to find you someone tonight.”

“Good luck with that,” you muttered, taking another sip of champagne.

“No, I’m serious!” Hoseok leaned in conspiratorially. “You’re gorgeous, successful, and you have taste. What’s the holdup?”

“It’s not that simple,” you replied, sipping your champagne.

“Then let’s make it simple. Tonight’s mission: find Y/N a man,” he declared, clapping his hands together.

“Absolutely not,” you said, laughing.

“Too late. It’s happening.”

He scanned the crowd dramatically, his finger wagging like a radar. “Alright, what about him?”

You followed his gaze to a tall guy nursing a whiskey at the bar. “Probably taken.”

Hoseok squinted. “How can you possibly tell?”

“Look at his hand,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

His eyes zeroed in, and then he groaned. “Oh a ring? Seriously? Why do the good ones always come pre-owned?”

Shaking your head. “Because they’ve been snatched up by people who don’t need their friend matchmaking at parties.”

“Rude,” Hoseok shot back, feigning offense. “I’m doing God’s work here.”

“That guy in the navy suit?”

“Too old.”

“Alright, what about tall and brooding over there?”

“Not my type.”

Hoseok sighed theatrically. “You’re impossible.”

Before you could retort, a shift in the room’s energy caught your attention. The chatter quieted for a moment, heads turned, and the air thickened with a sense of presence. That’s when you saw him.

He stood at the entrance, effortlessly commanding attention in a tailored black suit that hugged his frame perfectly. His dark hair was slicked back, a single strand rebelliously falling onto his forehead. His sharp jawline and piercing gaze were enough to make anyone look twice or three times.

“Wow,” Hoseok whispered beside you, fanning himself. “Now that’s a head-turner.”

You couldn’t disagree. The man was magnetic in a way few people were.

“Oh, you’re blushing,” Hoseok teased, nudging you.

“I am not!” you protested, though your cheeks betrayed you.

“You are. And you know what this means,” he said, grinning mischievously.

“What?”

“You’re going to talk to him.”

You laughed nervously. “Absolutely not.”

“Y/N, come on! Look at him. This is fate handing you a golden opportunity,” Hoseok insisted.

“I don’t even know him!”

“That’s the point. Go introduce yourself. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You hesitated, and Hoseok seized his chance. “I bet you can’t do it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re betting on this now?”

“Absolutely. If you don’t talk to him, I’m telling everyone here that you chickened out.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Life isn’t fair, darling. Now, go,” he said, practically pushing you out of your seat.

You took a deep breath, heart pounding as you glanced at the man again. His gaze swept the room, sharp and assessing, before landing briefly on you. Both of your eyes met, and you feel a spark of something unspoken passed between the both of you.

Fine. You could do this. For the sake of your pride—and to shut Hoseok up, you adjusted your dress, squared your shoulders, and took a step forward.

You took a deep breath as you made your way to him. He was seated near the bar, his profile sharp under the dim lighting, exuding an aura that screamed untouchable. His drink sat touched on the counter, his focus distant, like he was counting down the seconds until he could leave.

Alright, Y/N, you got this. Just be charming. Flirty. Casual. How hard can it be?

Clearing your throat softly, you slid onto the barstool beside him. “You know,” you started with a smirk, “it’s dangerous sitting here all alone. Someone might think you’re waiting for company.”

He slowly turned his head to look at you, his brow arching in what could only be described as mild annoyance. “Excuse me?”

You faltered but quickly recovered. “I mean, you’re sitting here like you own the place, but you don’t really strike me as the social butterfly type.”

His eyes narrowed. “And you don’t strike me as someone who knows how to mind their own business.”

You mouth opened and closed like a fish. “I—what? I was just trying to make conversation!”

“By assuming I’m some antisocial loner?” His tone was flat, but the words stung.

“That’s not—” you sputtered, now feeling defensive. “Okay, you know what? Never mind. Clearly, I misread the vibe. Enjoy your night, asshole.”

You turned on your heel, heart racing with a mix of embarrassment and fury as you stormed back to Hoseok.

“You’re back already?” he asked, smirking as he handed you a fresh glass of champagne. “What happened?”

“Oh, nothing,” you said sarcastically, collapsing onto the couch beside him. “Just got verbally smacked by the guy you insisted I talk to.”

Hoseok burst out laughing. “What did he say?”

“That I don’t know how to mind my own business!”

Hoseok clutched his stomach, tears forming in his eyes. “Oh, my God, Y/N, what did you say to him?”

“Nothing bad! I was just trying to be friendly. He’s the one with the stick up his—”

Before you could finish, you noticed the man leaving the bar. He walked toward the exit with the same quiet, commanding air he had when he entered. No goodbyes, no lingering. Just a clean getaway.

“Whatever,” you muttered. “He’s clearly not a fan of parties—or people.”

“Fair,” Hoseok said, still chuckling as two familiar faces joined you. Jihyo and Sana, fellow models and the unofficial queens of industry gossip, flopped onto the couch with the kind of grace only models could manage.

“What’s so funny?” Sana asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder as if she were still mid-photo shoot.

“Y/N just got spectacularly shut down by the Jeon Jungkook,” Hoseok declared, barely containing his laughter.

You turned to him sharply. “Wait, you know him?”

Jihyo’s jaw dropped, her eyes darting between Hoseok and you. “Hold on, that Jungkook? CEO of Resorts International?”

“Oh, that’s his name,” you muttered, sinking further into your seat. “Explains a lot. The guy’s got all the charm of a brick wall.”

“More like a brick wall covered in barbed wire,” Sana quipped, her brows raising dramatically. “I’ve heard he’s impossible to approach—unless you’re an accountant or a cocktail waitress.”

Sana chimed in, leaning forward like she was about to spill state secrets. “You’ve heard the rumors, right? Cold-hearted, doesn’t talk to anyone unless he has to, and supposedly—” she lowered her voice dramatically, “—he’s got a different girl in his bed every week.”

Jihyo nodded sagely. “I’ve heard the same. He’s all business, no warmth. Probably because he grew up as an only child with more money than he knew what to do with.”

Hoseok snorted. “To be fair, you did call him a loner to his face.”

“I didn’t call him a loner! I implied it,” you defended. “Big difference.”

The three of them burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but join in despite your bruised ego.

“Well,” you sighed dramatically, raising your glass, “here’s to tonight. Not exactly my lucky night in the romance department.”

“Hey, it’s Vegas,” Hoseok said, clinking his glass against to yours. “Plenty of fish in the sea. Just… maybe avoid the sharks next time.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you took a sip. If nothing else, at least you had good company to cushion your failed attempts at flirting.

Jeon Jungkook had lived his entire life under a spotlight, but it wasn’t the kind that most people would envy. As the only son of the founder of Resorts International, one of the world’s leading gaming and hospitality empires, he was groomed for success before he could even spell the word. He had grown up surrounded by glitzy hotel openings, exclusive business meetings, and lavish galas where every handshake could seal a deal worth millions.

When his father announced his retirement three months ago, handing over the CEO reins to Jungkook, the world collectively held its breath. The media speculated endlessly: Would the golden boy live up to his father’s legacy? Was he ready for the challenge?

Jungkook had proven them all wrong. In just three months, he already started modernizing the company’s operations, implementing eco-friendly initiatives, and streamlining inefficiencies. But despite his achievements, his reputation among those outside the boardroom was less favorable.

“Cold-hearted.”

“Unapproachable.”

“Stone-faced heir.”

The whispers followed him everywhere, branding him as someone impossible to know, let alone love. In reality, Jungkook wasn’t cold—just guarded. Growing up without siblings or close confidants had shaped him into someone who found comfort in solitude. His reserved nature wasn’t a symptom of arrogance, but rather a quiet reflection of how overwhelming his life had become.

Beneath the sharp suits and calculated demeanor was a man who loved simple pleasures: sketching in his notebook, playing the piano, or indulging in late-night gaming sessions. But no one saw that side of him not his colleagues, not the socialites clamoring for his attention, and certainly not the father who believed his son’s life wasn’t complete without a wife.

Jungkook’s friend Kim Taehyung, the eccentric owner of one of the hottest luxury fashion brands, had practically dragged him to this afterparty. Taehyung had a knack for throwing events that were equal parts exclusive and chaotic, and tonight was no exception.

“You need to loosen up,” Taehyung had said earlier, handing Jungkook a glass of champagne. “You’ve been running that empire of yours like a man possessed. It’s a party, not a shareholders’ meeting.”

“I’m not really in the mood, Tae,” Jungkook replied, scanning the room full of strangers.

“Of course, you’re not,” Taehyung said with a knowing smirk. “But you’re staying. Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone interesting tonight.”

Jungkook sighed. Taehyung was relentless.

The truth was, he wasn’t just tired from work. His father had been on his case again earlier that day, pressing him to start dating.

“You’re the face of this company now, Jungkook. People look up to you. It’s time you settled down.”

“Dad, I’ve been CEO for three months. I’m focusing on stabilizing the company,” Jungkook had argued.

“Excuses. You’re hiding behind work because you’re afraid of commitment,” his father shot back.

The argument had left a sour taste in Jungkook’s mouth. Relationships weren’t on his radar right now. He wasn’t against the idea entirely, but the thought of being with someone when he could barely keep his own life in order felt irresponsible.

Jungkook slipped away from the main floor and into the restroom, taking a moment to breathe. The thrum of the party dulled behind the heavy door, and for a few minutes, he could pretend he wasn’t Jungkook Jeon, CEO of Resorts International.

He leaned against the counter, staring at his reflection. You don’t have to stay long. Just make an appearance, then leave. It’s fine.

When he returned to the party, Taehyung intercepted him immediately.

“Where were you hiding?” Taehyung teased, clinking his glass against Jungkook’s.

“Just needed a break,” Jungkook replied. “I was actually about to head out.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Taehyung’s grin widened mischievously. “You can’t leave without at least trying to have some fun. Find someone to talk to. Flirt, even. You’re single, man. Enjoy it!”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Guilty as charged. Now, promise me you’ll stay for at least thirty more minutes.”

“Fine. Thirty minutes,” Jungkook muttered, already regretting it.

He found himself at the bar, sipping whiskey and counting down the seconds until he could make his escape. That’s when you appeared.

“You know,” you said, sliding onto the stool beside him, “it’s dangerous sitting here all alone. Someone might think you’re waiting for company.”

Your tone was playful, your smile confident, but Jungkook could only muster a blank stare. Who starts a conversation like that?

“Excuse me?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

“I mean, you’re sitting here like you own the place, but you don’t really strike me as the social butterfly type,” you continued.

The comment rubbed him the wrong way—not because it was offensive, but because it hit too close to home.

“And you don’t strike me as someone who knows how to mind their own business,” he replied flatly.

Your expression faltered, but only for a moment. “I—what? I was just trying to make conversation!”

“By assuming I’m some antisocial loner?” he shot back.

You stood abruptly, cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “You know what? Never mind. Enjoy your night, asshole.”

As you walked away, Jungkook felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t meant to come off so harsh. He was just… out of his depth.

Deciding he’d had enough, Jungkook downed the rest of his whiskey and left the bar. As he walked through the crowd, he couldn’t help but glance back at you. You were sitting with a group of friends, laughing animatedly despite their earlier exchange.

For a brief moment, Jungkook wondered if he’d made a mistake. But then, the weight of his father’s words pressed down on him again. And yet, as he walked away, your voice lingered in his mind.

The warm, familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee hit you as you stepped into your favorite café, the one you always visit whenever you're in Vegas. Normally, this place feels like a sanctuary a calm start to your day with a comforting latte in hand. But not today. Today, the universe seemed to have woken up and decided to toy with you.

First, you received some ridiculous news about your upcoming campaign shoot being delayed, throwing your entire schedule into chaos. Then, in you rush to storm out of the hotel, you had forgotten your purse. Great.

Still, you weren't about to let that stop you from grabbing your usual coffee. A caffeine fix was non-negotiable.

“Medium latte, please,” you said to the barista, already picturing the soothing warmth of the cup in your hands.

“That will be $5.50, ma'am,” he replied.

You instinctively reached into your pocket, only to come up empty. Your stomach dropped. “Uh…” you glanced up sheepishly. “Okay, so funny thing—I left my wallet at my hotel. But I am a regular here. Can I just—”

“Sorry, ma’am,” the barista interrupted, his tone clipped. “We can’t process an order without payment. Policy.”

You blinked, thrown by his sharpness. “I’m not asking for free coffee. I’ll come back and pay, I swear. You can even ask the manager—I’m here all the time.”

“I really can’t do that,” he said, looking uncomfortable but firm. “We’ve had issues before with people trying to…”

You froze. “Are you accusing me of being a scammer?”

“No, no! That’s not what I meant,” he stammered, his face flushing. “It’s just…we have to be careful—”

“Careful about what?” your voice rose as irritation crept in. “About someone who forgot their wallet? I’m not exactly trying to rob you!”

The barista looked ready to melt into the floor when a low, calm voice broke through.

“I’ll pay for it.”

You turned to the source of the voice, and your breath caught.

Standing a few feet away was none other than him—Jungkook. The same man who had practically shut you down a week ago at Hoseok’s party. He looked just as composed and intimidating as before, dressed in a sleek black coat over a crisp white turtleneck, his hair perfectly tousled like he had just stepped out of a photoshoot.

He slid a bill onto the counter without a second glance in your direction. “For her latte,” he said to the barista, who nodded nervously and rushed to complete the order.

You stood there, dumbfounded.

“Wait—what are you doing?” you finally managed to ask as Jungkook turned and headed for the door.

“Paying for your coffee,” he said over his shoulder, his voice casual, like it was no big deal.

“Why?” you demanded, hurrying after him.

He paused at the entrance, looking at you with an expression that was equal parts bored and amused. “Because you looked like you needed it.”

You blinked, caught between annoyance and gratitude. “You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t have to,” he replied simply.

You crossed your arms, planting myself in his path. “Okay, but why? What’s the catch? Last time we talked, you made it pretty clear you don’t exactly like strangers.”

He raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, you thought he was going to ignore you. Instead, he said, “And last time we talked, you called me a loner. So maybe I’m just returning the favor.”

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. “Wow, you really have a way with people, don’t you?”

He shrugged, his lips twitching into the faintest smile. “Look, if it bothers you that much, don’t think of it as charity. Think of it as me doing something nice.”

“Nicer than calling me pitiful,” you muttered under your breath, but he caught it.

His ears turned pink. “You looked like you were having a bad day,” he mumbled, suddenly avoiding your gaze.

For a moment, you just stared at him. There was something unexpectedly, endearing about how awkward he seemed. Like he wasn’t used to small talk or acts of kindness but was trying anyway.

“Well, I don’t like owing people,” you said finally. “So the next time we meet, I’ll treat you. Deal?”

Jungkook looked at you, his dark eyes unreadable. Then, to your surprise, the corners of his mouth lifted into a barely-there smile.

“Sure. If we would meet again.”

He slipped out the door before you could respond, leaving you standing there with your coffee and a strange flutter in your chest.

As you took a sip of your latte, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe he wasn’t the cold, untouchable man everyone made him out to be. Maybe… he was just a little awkward. And kind of sweet.

A rare break from your job was the perfect excuse to finally try something new and for some reason, the idea of working out seemed appealing. Maybe it was the influencers you had been scrolling past on Instagram with their perfectly toned abs, or maybe you just needed a distraction. Either way, you grabbed your phone and searched for gyms nearby.

After a few minutes of scrolling, you found a fancy spot that looked promising. The problem? You didn’t have a car. Public transportation in Vegas wasn’t exactly convenient, and walking there in this heat wasn’t an option either.

Then it hit you—You had the solution. You immediately dialed your rich friend, Park Jimin.

Jimin picked up on the second ring, his voice as cheerful as ever. “Y/N! What’s up?”

“Hey, Jimin,” you said, getting straight to the point. “Can I borrow one of your cars? I found this gym I want to check out, but, you know…”

“Oh, absolutely,” he replied without missing a beat. “Which one? The Lamborghini, the Porsche, or—”

“Something normal, please,” you cut in, laughing. “I just need to get there, not cause a scene.”

“Normal? What does that even mean?” Jimin teased. “Alright, I’ll send one over. Consider it done.”

You chatted for a bit longer, mostly about his upcoming projects and his love for the Vegas nightlife, until the conversation took a surprising turn.

“By the way,” Jimin said casually, like he was talking about ordering coffee, “I’m throwing a yacht party this weekend for my birthday. You have to come.”

You blinked. “A yacht party? Like... on an actual yacht?”

“Yes, Y/N,” he said, laughing. “A boat, water, champagne, music—the whole deal. Don’t tell me you’re thinking of skipping it.”

“I mean... no,” you admitted, feeling a little overwhelmed. “It’s just... I don’t think that’s really my scene. You know I’m not exactly—”

“Not exactly what?” he pressed, his tone growing curious.

You hesitated, then sighed. “Well... out of your league?”

“Out of your league?” Jimin repeated, his voice turning sharp, almost offended. “Don’t be ridiculous. I invited you because you’re one of my closest friends. You and Hoseok.”

Jung Hoseok the reason you had met Jimin in the first place. Back when you started in the fashion industry, Hoseok had introduced you to his best friend, and Jimin had been an instant ally: warm, funny, and, despite his wealth, incredibly down-to-earth.

“You’re sure I won’t be awkwardly out of place?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

Jimin snorted. “Awkward? You? This is coming from someone who had zero shame asking to borrow one of my cars five minutes ago.”

You burst out laughing. “Okay, you got me there.”

“Exactly,” he said, his tone softening now. “Listen, I only invited people I trust people I actually like. You’ll have Hoseok there too. It’s going to be fun, I promise.”

And just like that, you could feel the tension melting away. “Alright,” you said, smiling. “Count me in. But if I trip and fall into the ocean, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

Jimin’s laughter rang out like a promise. “Deal. But I’m making you wear a life jacket just in case. The car should be pulling up any minute.”

As if on cue, you heard the unmistakable sound of a sleek engine pulling into the driveway. You peeked out the window and shook your head, smiling. Jimin’s idea of “normal” turned out to be a shiny black Tesla.

“Your chariot awaits,” Jimin said playfully before hanging up.

Grabbing my bag, you headed out the door and slid into the luxurious interior. You had to admit, the excitement was starting to build not just for the workout but for the yacht party. Maybe this was exactly the kind of escape you needed. After all, life had a way of surprising you when you least expected it.

The gym was buzzing with energy as you powered through your workout routine. The rhythmic thud of weights dropping and faint music filled the air, and you were in the zone completely focused. By the time as you finished and moved to cool down, your muscles felt like jelly, but the satisfying kind.

You reached for your water bottle and lowered the volume of your earbuds, the background hum of the gym suddenly sharper. That’s when you heard it—a loud, frustrated, “Shit, what the hell just happened?”

Intrigued, you glanced over. There was a broad-shouldered, standing by a bench, holding a phone that looked like it had lost a fight with a sledgehammer.

It took you a second to process, but when you did, the recognition hit.

“Oh, it’s you again!” you blurted out, your mouth moving faster than your brain.

He looked up, his expression a mix of disbelief and resignation. “Yeah, it’s me again,” he said flatly, as if the universe was playing a cruel joke by orchestrating our third meeting.

“What happened?” you asked, biting back a grin as you nodded toward the carnage in his hand. “I heard something break.”

He sighed, holding up the mangled device. “My phone. It fell while I was working out, and I didn’t see it. Then the dumbbell… well, the dumbbell saw it.”

That was all it took for you to lose it. You laughed, clutching your stomach as his expression shifted from annoyed to downright offended.

“Why are you laughing?” he asked sharply, narrowing his eyes.

“Sorry, sorry!” you managed to say between giggles. “But how do you not notice your phone on the floor? Were you that focused?”

“It was an accident!” he shot back, crossing his arms. “I wasn’t exactly planning to obliterate my phone today.”

“Alright, alright,” you said, holding up your hands in surrender, though the grin stayed firmly in place. “What’s your plan now? Or are you stuck in this gym forever?”

He looked at his watch. “I’ll figure it out. I can call my secretary through this,” he said, tapping the screen.

“Wait,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “I’ll help you out.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback. “You’ll what?”

“I’ll drive you,” you offered, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I still owe you one from the café incident, remember?”

For a moment, he looked skeptical. “You? Drive me?”

“Yes, me. I’m perfectly capable of driving, thank you very much,” you shot back, dramatically rolling your eyes. “Unless, of course, you would d rather sit here like a helpless damsel waiting for your secretary to swoop in and save you.”

He let out a reluctant sigh, finally both of you stepping toward the black Tesla.

“Nice ride,” he remarked casually. You snorted. If only he knew.

As you unlocked the doors, your eyes betrayed you for a moment, flickering toward him. He was the epitome of effortless cool—lean but undeniably sculpted, the kind of build that spoke of hours at the gym but never looked overdone. His plain black tank top clung to his shoulders, revealing toned arms and just a teasing glimpse of a tattoo curling around his bicep. The joggers he wore hung low on his hips, paired with sneakers that looked both practical and trendy. His hair was tousled in that perfect I woke up like this way, and the faint glint of a lip piercing added an edge that shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was.

“You know, if you’re going to stare, at least make it subtle,” his voice broke through your thoughts, his lips tugging into an amused smirk.

You blinked, heat creeping up your neck. “I wasn’t—” I started, but his raised eyebrow silenced me.

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly enjoying himself. “So, do I pass your inspection?”

“Inspection?” you scoffed, regaining your composure. “Please. Don’t flatter yourself.”

He chuckled as he slid into the passenger seat, leaving you muttering under your breath as you got behind the wheel. Why did he have to be so infuriatingly smug and good-looking?

Desperate to change the subject, you asked, “Anyway, do you want breakfast? My treat.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback. “Breakfast? With you?”

“Relax,” you said with a laugh. “I’m not proposing or anything. It’s just food. You eat, don’t you?”

He hesitated, his expression a mix of skepticism and mild intrigue. Finally, he nodded. “Fine. But only because I don’t have a better option.”

By the time you pulled up to the restaurant, he still seemed wary, like he couldn’t quite figure out if you were serious or setting him up for something. But as you both stepped inside, you noticed him sneaking a glance at you, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t as bad as he would thought it would be.

The restaurant was warm and inviting, with a soft golden glow from the lights and a gentle hum of chatter in the background. You both sat across from each other, separated by what felt like an ocean of awkward silence. You buried your nose in the menu, pretending to deliberate over your choices, but really just trying to distract yourself from his presence, which seemed to take up way more space than it should.

Once the waiter took our orders, the quiet felt unbearable. You swirled the straw in your glass like it was the most fascinating thing in the world and finally broke the silence. “So… are you, like, the CEO of your company or something?”

He raised an eyebrow, a sly smirk forming on his lips. “Yeah, I am. Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” you said a little too quickly, feeling my cheeks heat. “Just making conversation.”

He let out a soft laugh, the kind that’s almost more of an exhale. “Not very subtle, are you?”

Both of you started eating then he suddenly leaned forward, eyes narrowing at your phone case. “Wait a minute… is that Gojo?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah, why?”

He tilted his head, feigning deep thought. “You watch that anime?

“Do I not look like someone who would watch anime?”

“Well, you don’t exactly give off weeb vibes.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Excuse me, I’m a proud fan of Gojo Satoru. Who wouldn’t be?”

His face lit up. “No way. Gojo’s my favorite too.”

“Of course, he’s everyone’s favorite,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “But don’t even start about his… you know…”

“Death?” he finished, wincing. “Yeah, that wrecked me. Don’t remind me.”

You spent a solid ten minutes geeking out over our shared love for the character, bouncing theories off each other like you both known each other for years. It was so ridiculous, but for once, the awkward tension melted away.

“See?” you said, grinning. “I’m not that bad.”

He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “I never said you were bad. Just… unexpected.”

“Unexpected? Like when I tried to flirt with you that night?” you teased him. “And you took it the wrong way?”

His eyes widened, caught off guard. For a moment, it felt like the air between shifted, but before you could process it, he cleared his throat.

“Hey, about that night…” His tone softened, and his gaze dropped to the table. “I wanted to apologize. I wasn’t exactly… polite.”

You blinked. “Wait, you’re apologizing? Like, a real apology?”

He shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “Yeah, I was having a bad day.”

Curiosity got the better of you. “What kind of bad day makes you snap at random strangers?”

He hesitated, fidgeting with his fork.

Sensing his discomfort, you leaned back, trying to ease the tension. “You don’t have to answer. I mean, we’re not exactly close or anything.”

For a moment, you thought he might dodge the question, but then he sighed. “My dad’s been pressuring me to settle down. You know, get serious, date someone, think about marriage.”

That threw you for a loop. “Wait, what? You’re Jungkook—the Jeon Jungkook. Aren’t you supposed to be, like, the king of eligible bachelors or something? I mean… don’t you have a line of people falling at your feet?”

He laughed, a low, self-deprecating sound. “You think, so? But the truth is, I do… mess around, sure, but nothing serious. It’s not exactly what my dad wants to hear.”

"You're bluffing," you stared at him, genuinely surprised. “So… you’re telling me all those rumors about you sleeping around are true?”

“Somewhat true,” he admitted, a small smile playing on his lips. “But they’re exaggerated. Not that it matters, though. My dad doesn’t care about the details—he just wants results.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. “Wow. And here I was thinking you were out there breaking hearts left and right. Turns out, you’re just another guy dealing with family drama.”

“Guess we all have our struggles,” he said.

You leaned back in your chair, letting out a small sigh. “You know, I get it. All my friends are pairing up, getting engaged, or having babies, and here I am... still single. Sometimes, it makes me wonder if there’s something wrong with me.”

He tilted his head, his expression softening in a way that made my heart skip just a little. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said, his voice steady and sincere. “You’re just waiting for the right person. Life isn’t a race, you know? Everyone’s clock is different.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his tone. “Wow, that’s... surprisingly profound coming from you.”

He smirked, raising an eyebrow. “I have layers, you know. Like an onion.”

You snorted. “Well, thanks. But really, I appreciate it.”

“I think you’re doing just fine. No one has it all figured out—not even me.”

“Oh, trust me, that part was obvious,” you teased, earning a laugh from him.

You swirled your nearly-empty glass of water, feeling a bit more comfortable now.

“You know, I think we might have potentially be friends if our first impressions of each other weren’t so... well, awful.”

He tilted his head, pretending to consider it. “Yeah, maybe. But then again, where’s the fun in starting off on good terms?”

“Touché,” you said, rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile.

You didn’t realize how much time had passed until the waiter cleared his throat, his third time checking in on us.

“Oh wow,” you said, glancing at the time. “We’ve been here for over an hour. That’s, uh, new.”

He looked just as surprised. “Guess we’re better at this talking thing than I thought.”

As both of you left the restaurant, the crisp morning air hit you, and he glanced at his watch. “My secretary’s on the way. Thanks for the ride and breakfast, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it,” you said, waving it off. “Consider it payback for the café incident, you know”

As his car pulled up, he paused and glanced back at you. “This was... nice. Surprisingly nice, actually.”

“Agreed,” you said with a grin. “You’re not as big of a jerk as I thought.”

“And you’re not as... well, annoying as I first assumed,” he shot back, his lips curling into a teasing smile.

“Oh, I’m absolutely annoying. Just not to you. Yet.”

He chuckled, opening the car door. “See you when I see you.”

“Or see you never,” you teased, crossing your arms.

He smirked before stepping inside. You watched as his car disappeared down the street, feeling an odd mix of amusement and curiosity swirling in your chest. Whatever this was, it wasn’t what you expected—but something told you it wouldn’t be the last time your paths crossed.

It was the weekend, and Jimin’s birthday had finally arrived. You had spent all morning preparing, carefully selecting the perfect dress a chic yet comfortable outfit that struck just the right balance between effortless and elegant. Jimin had assured you that one of his drivers would pick you up, so you didn’t have to worry about transportation. Classic Jimin, always taking care of everything.

The car pulled up to the dock where you were all supposed to gather before boarding the yacht. The venue was buzzing with an understated elegance soft lights twinkling above, the gentle murmur of waves against the pier, and a cluster of well-dressed guests milling about. Among them, you spotted Hoseok chatting animatedly with his girlfriend. As always, Hoseok radiated charm, while his girlfriend was effortlessly stunning, perfectly complementing his energy.

You also noticed Taehyung, one of Jimin’s close friends. You weren’t exactly close, but you had met a few times at events. With his striking features and magnetic aura, Taehyung always managed to make his presence known without even trying.

You decided to find Jimin to wish him a happy birthday. However, as you approached, you noticed him pacing near the edge of the dock, phone pressed to his ear, his expression a mix of frustration and exasperation. His voice carried easily over the sound of the water.

"Dude, where are you? You’re the only one not here!” Jimin said, his tone sharp but laced with concern. There was a pause, presumably while the person on the other end responded, and then Jimin huffed.

“I swear, I’m gonna tell your mom about this, and she’ll whoop your ass for bailing on my party,” he threatened, though there was an amused edge to his voice. “You’re such a workaholic. Dude, you need to relax for once in your life.”

With that, he ended the call, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair before noticing you standing nearby.

“Oh, hey! Happy birthday Jimin!” you greeted, you stepped closer to hug him. His frustration melted away into his signature warm smile.

“Just an old friend giving me little trouble, something like that,” he said with a sigh, before flashing a grin. “But enough about that. You look amazing. Thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” you replied. “Now, you better enjoy your night—it’s your birthday, after all.”

“Working on it,” he said with a laugh before you parted ways.

You wandered back toward Hoseok and his girlfriend, joining their lively conversation about the upcoming festivities. Taehyung had drifted into another group, his dry wit adding a humorous edge to the chatter. The minutes passed quickly, and before you knew it, the yacht began to move. The gentle rocking of the boat, paired with the sparkling city lights fading into the distance, set the perfect tone for what promised to be an unforgettable night.

Jungkook leaned back in his office chair, running a hand through his already-messy hair. His desk was cluttered with files, reports, and his laptop—remnants of a day that seemed to stretch forever. He felt a pang of guilt knowing he would be late to Jimin’s party. Jimin wasn’t just any friend; their bond went way back to childhood, forged through their parents’ business ties and countless summers spent together. Yet here he was, always caught up in work, unable to prioritize his personal life. His mother’s nagging voice echoed in his head: "You should spend more time with your friends. Life isn’t all about work, Jungkook."

The guilt doubled when Jimin called earlier, threatening to tattle to his mom if he didn’t show up. Jungkook could almost hear the smirk in Jimin’s voice. With a resigned sigh, Jungkook finally wrapped up his work and rummaged through his closet. He settled on a crisp white shirt, black slacks, and a sleek blazer that gave off an effortless yet polished vibe. After all, he couldn’t turn up to a yacht party looking like he just crawled out of a spreadsheet.

Thirty minutes later, Jungkook arrived at the dock just as the yacht began to drift away. The warm glow of lights from the boat reflected off the water, and the sound of laughter and music carried across the night air. He stepped on board, quickly spotting Jimin near the bar.

“Finally!” Jimin exclaimed, pulling Jungkook into a brief hug. “I was about to call your mom again.”

“Don’t start,” Jungkook replied, smirking. “Work ran late.”

Jimin rolled his eyes but grinned. “Well, you’re here now. That’s what matters. Come on, let's have fun.”

The two talked for a while, catching up on life and sharing stories. Despite Jimin’s attempts to nudge him toward mingling, Jungkook remained firmly rooted in the comfort of familiarity, sticking close to Jimin and occasionally chatting with Taehyung.

Meanwhile, you found yourself in a different dilemma. After spending most of the evening with Hoseok and his girlfriend, the couple’s dynamic started to feel a bit suffocating. As much as you adored Hoseok, third-wheeling wasn’t exactly your idea of fun. Deciding you needed some air, you excused yourself and wandered toward the deck, the cool breeze a welcome escape from the noise and chatter.

The yacht had stopped, its anchor dropped in a calm, picturesque spot surrounded by glittering city lights on the horizon. The music from inside was still audible but muffled, creating an oddly serene atmosphere.

As you leaned against the railing, staring out at the water, you heard footsteps approaching. You turned your head slightly and froze.

There he was—Jungkook.

The man who had somehow become a recurring character in your life. His presence was almost magnetic, his sharp features softened by the moonlight. He caught sight of you and hesitated for a moment before walking closer.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, his voice low but carrying easily over the quiet.

You raised an eyebrow. “I could say the same about you. Late to the party?”

He let out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, work. As usual.”

You nodded, not entirely surprised. “Let me guess—you’re one of Jimin’s childhood friends?”

“Guilty,” he admitted, leaning on the railing beside you. “And you? How do you know him?”

“Hoseok introduced us,” you replied. “He’s the reason I’m here tonight. Well, that and Jimin being very convincing.”

He smirked. “Sounds about right. Jimin’s good at getting what he wants.”

A comfortable silence settled between you for a moment, the distant hum of music blending with the gentle lapping of waves. The two of you weren’t exactly friends, but there was something strangely natural about standing there together.

He turned his head, his gaze meeting yours. “You’re not exactly blending into the crowd yourself. What are you doing out here?”

You hesitated, then smiled sheepishly. “Third-wheeling gets old fast. Thought I would escape for a bit.”

“Fair enough,” he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Guess we’re both out of place here.”

The night air was cool and crisp as you both leaned against the railings on the quieter side of the yacht. The party was still in full swing on the other side, music and laughter drifting faintly in the background, but here, it felt like you had the world to yourselves. The stars above shimmered in the dark sky, reflected perfectly in the calm water below.

“I just realized,” you said, breaking the peaceful silence, “this is the fourth time we’ve bumped into each other. Is the universe trying to tell us something?”

Jungkook glanced at you, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “Like what?”

You grinned, the words tumbling out before you could stop yourself. “That maybe I’m the girl you’ve been waiting for.”

His eyes widened slightly, clearly caught off guard. “Wow, you don’t hold back, do you?”

You shrugged, laughing softly. “Why should I? Life’s too short for games.” You hesitated for a moment, then confessed, “Besides, I’ve been thinking about you. A lot more than I probably should.”

Jungkook blinked, clearly trying to process what you’d just said. “You’re… straightforward.”

You smirked, playfully nudging his arm. “And you’re stating the obvious. Look, all I’m saying is, I don’t mind hanging out with you. You’re nice to be around.”

What you didn’t know was that Jungkook’s mind was a swirl of thoughts. He wasn’t going to admit it outright, but you’d been on his mind too. Something about you had stayed with him—the way you spoke your mind, the easy banter, and the way you didn’t seem fazed by who he was.

But before he could respond, you straightened up abruptly, suddenly aware of how vulnerable you had just been. “Okay, wow, that was a lot. I’m blaming the alcohol I had earlier,” you muttered, your cheeks warm with embarrassment.

You took a step back, trying to shake off the awkwardness, but the slight sway of the yacht threw you off balance. Your foot slipped, and for a heart-stopping moment, you teetered on the edge.

“Whoa!” Jungkook reacted instantly, grabbing your arm and pulling you back just in time.

“Thanks,” you managed, breathless and slightly shaken.

But before either of you could regain your footing, the yacht gave a sudden, unexpected lurch. It all happened in slow motion.

One moment, you were staring at him, his hand still gripping your arm; the next, both of you were tumbling over the railing. The cold water hit like a slap, stealing the breath from your lungs as you splashed into the dark ocean.

The cold, salty water surrounded you as you struggled to catch your breath, disoriented from the fall. But before panic could fully set in, you felt a strong, reassuring presence beside you. Jungkook's hand reached out, and his voice was calm but urgent.

"Are you okay?" His eyes searched yours, his face just inches from yours, his brows furrowed in concern.

You blinked, feeling a sudden rush of warmth in your chest despite the chill of the water. "I-uh, I am not really a good swimmer," you confessed, your voice shaky.

Jungkook didn't miss a beat. His hand gripped your arm, his touch firm but gentle. "It's okay. Just stay calm. Hold on to me," he instructed, his tone steady, like he had done this a hundred times before. You felt safe.

And for the first time, you were so close to him- closer than you ever thought possible. His face was so... beautiful. The rainwater trickled down his sharp jawline, the moonlight making his features look even more defined. His dark hair, now wet and tousled, framed his face perfectly.

You couldn't help but stare, the way his piercing glinted in the dim light making him look even more striking. How could someone look so perfect, so effortlessly attractive? With a body that was both strong and lean, and that face-it was hard to believe he was actually single. You couldn't stop yourself from admiring how impossibly hot he looked, even with water dripping from his face.

You found yourself almost mesmerized by his lips- those full, kissable lips. Your thoughts started to wander, and before you could stop yourself, you asked the question that had been swirling in your mind.

"Can I kiss you?"

There was a brief pause, a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he gave you a small, playful smile. But before you could process it, his lips were on yours. The kiss was gentle at first, testing the waters, so to speak. But then, something shifted. The chemistry that had been building between you two since the first moment you met exploded in an instant.

The kiss deepened, and neither of you hesitated. The sound of the waves lapping against the yacht, the cool water surrounding you, all faded into the background. All that mattered was the heat of his lips against yours, the way he pulled you closer, your bodies pressed together in the water.

And it wasn't just you who had been thinking about this. He had been wanting this, too. The way you smiled at him, the way you weren't afraid to speak your mind-it had kept him awake at night, wondering what it would be like to kiss you.

Now that you were here, tangled in the water, neither of you wanted to pull away. Time seemed to stand still as you kissed him, the connection between you both undeniable, magnetic. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt completely in sync.

It was messy, it was raw, but it was perfect. Just the two of you, lost in the moment.

He pulled back slightly, both of you still floating in the water. His eyes held a certain intensity, the kind of look that could make your heart race.

"You know," he began, his voice surprisingly soft despite the wild rush of emotions, "I've been thinking about you a lot too. More than I care to admit."

Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart fluttering. The confession was unexpected, yet somehow not. Maybe you’d both been feeling this pull, this magnetic force drawing you closer, even without saying it out loud.

"So, what now?" You smirked, the water now lapping against your skin as you held onto him. "I'm waiting."

He blinked, his brows furrowing slightly. "Waiting for what?" he asked, a playful glint dancing in his eyes.

"Duh," you laughed softly, your voice teasing. "Waiting for you to ask me out."

Jungkook’s lips curved into a smirk, his laughter warm and unguarded. “I don’t even know your full name,” he shot back, tilting his head slightly.

"You don’t need to know my entire life story to ask me out, Mr. Jeon," you quipped, your tone light but daring. “For the record, I’m Y/N L/N.”

He let out a low chuckle, the kind that sent warmth rushing through you despite the chilly water. “Oh, is that how it works?” he said, his voice dipping, playful yet sincere. “Alright then, Ms. Y/N L/N—can I take you out?”

Your heart stuttered, though you covered it with a grin, you said with exaggerated relief. "Yes, you can.”

You both chuckled, the sound echoing into the night air. It felt so natural, this banter, this undeniable chemistry between you.

“I can’t believe this. Of all the things that could happen…”

“You had to save me, and then we both fell into the ocean,” you finished, chuckling despite yourself.

“Well, if the universe really is giving us signs, it’s not being subtle,” he teased, his dark eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

“Yeah, no kidding,” you said, grinning.

Before the moment could stretch any further, you both heard a loud shout from above.

"Y/N! Jungkook! Are you two alright?!"

It was Jimin's voice, and it snapped you both back to reality. Jungkook rolled his eyes but chuckled under his breath.

"Looks like we’ve got an audience," he muttered, before holding onto you tighter.

"Come on, let's get out of here."

As the yacht crew rushed to rescue you, the gravity of the moment settled in.

You had no idea where this unexpected connection might take you, but for the first time in what felt like forever, it seemed like you would stumbled upon something genuine. Something real. Maybe—just maybe—it was love. Against all odds, in the unlikeliest of circumstances, you both found love in a hopeless place.

end.

[liberalk1tsch]

Drabble where Peeta isn’t hijacked when Katniss is shot in Mockingjay, and we see his reaction to it and he takes care of her and everything?

well this is gonna hurt. and just cos i prefer it, here’s it on ao3 too bc i 🫶🏻 pain

The screen goes black, but the shot continues ringing in my ears long after the cameras shut off.

Shot.

She’s been shot.

I feel Haymitch’s hand on my shoulder, leading me away. I feel numb as he pulls me around a few corners, down a set of stairs, and pushes me into some sort of room full of warm, whirring machines. I quickly recognize the room as one where I’ve previously stumbled upon Katniss hiding out in when she gets overwhelmed with her duties as the Mockingjay.

“What’s happening?” I ask frantically. “Is she okay?”

“Shut up, boy,” scowls Haymitch. “I’m trying to hear what they’re saying.” He’s still got the radio headset on that he was using to communicate with her only moments ago. I’m not sure if he’s switched to a different channel and is trying to listen in on the medics’ coms now, or if he’s simply trying to make out what they’re saying through Katniss’ microphone, but either way, whatever he’s hearing has left him with a furrowed brow and ashen face.

A few minutes of baited breath later, we have an update: the bullet didn’t penetrate her suit, thanks to Cinna’s design. She’s being transported to District 2’s clinic under suspicion of a ruptured spleen and broken ribs.

“Why isn’t she in the hospital?” I ask.

“Just ‘cause 2 is better off than 12 doesn’t mean they’ve got everything. She’s lucky they have a clinic for the peacekeepers. She’ll probably need emergency surgery for that spleen.”

“I need to go, I need to be with her,” I say. It’s not a question.

“You can’t —”

“If this is about my safety —”

“It’s got nothing to do with you, kid, and everything to do with her. She’ll probably already be on a hovercraft being transferred back here by the time you get there,” says Haymitch.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” I say helplessly, burying my face in my hands.

Haymitch sounds genuinely sorry for me when he says, “I don't know.”

I pause for a moment. “Haymitch, what if she doesn’t make it?”

“She will. She’s a fighter.” He stops, as if contemplating his next words. “She’ll come back to you in this world.”

There's something devastating about the way he’s phrased it. As if he knows what it is to lose the love of his life in this world, as if he’s holding out hope to find them again in the next. But it’s that very devastation that’s oddly comforting in a way that Haymitch so rarely is. He and I don't see eye-to-eye on most things, but — funnily enough — he’s the only one who seems to understand how I feel about Katniss.

I wonder if love’s a big enough word for my feelings for her.

When my dad was around, he understood the crush I had on her, but Haymitch knows what it’s become. Maybe even more than I do — or at least am willing to admit — sometimes. I never thought of him as a romantic guy, but he continues to surprise me, even now.

We don’t sleep, my mentor and I. And while it’s not the first sleepless night I've spent thinking about Katniss, it’s by far the worst. Nothing else can compare.

Not when I awoke to her lying in a pool of her own blood, and spent the next 36 hours making sure she didn’t die in my arms. Not when we were separated in the Quell, and I hacked my way through the forest, through mutts, through Brutus, following her screaming my name.

Not even the countless nights I’d spent in the Capitol with only Annie’s sobs and Johanna’s screams for company, holding on to a memory of her in an attempt to hold on to the remnants of myself.

I’d gotten used to abuse from an early age. Growing up in my mother’s household will do that to you. I knew how to retreat to the corners of my mind, to block out the pain. To react just right — not too strongly where it would invite her to prey upon my weakness, but not stoically enough to invite a harder blow either. I’d despised my mother my whole life for the way she treated us, Dad included. I never thought she’d be the only reason I’d survive Snow’s torture.

Well, not the only reason.

When I’d withdraw from reality to hide in my head, it was Katniss’ arms that I’d flee to. I could never tell her, she’d probably freak out too much if I did, but she brings me a comfort like none I’ve ever known. Even when I was laying on the concrete floor of my cell, doubled over in pain with my nose bleeding, my body and bones bruised everywhere that wouldn’t show on camera. Broken toes. Burns lacing my arms. Welts on my back from caning (I’d almost smiled when they brought out a proper, old-fashioned cane — didn’t they know a wooden spoon could do just as much damage?). And through it all, I’d just go back to that place. To her. To our last good day, on the rooftop of the very place they held me prisoner. Where I’d spent the afternoon with her head in my lap, my fingers in her raven hair. She pretended not to stare up at me, and I pretended not to notice. I told her I wanted to freeze that moment and live in it forever.

So that’s what I did.

Maybe not forever, but I lived in it whenever I could. Whenever I needed. Which turned out to be a lot more than I ever thought it would be.

I hide there now, the sun warming my face, watching as her nimble fingers expertly fashion the flowers in her hands into a crown.

Desperately trying to ignore the pit in my stomach at the idea that I might never see her again.

She'll return to me in this world, I remind myself.

Haymitch jerks his head up suddenly, eyes bloodshot, but alert. “She’s here.”

I move to stand, but Haymitch grabs my arm to pull me back down.

“She’s not in good shape, kid,” he says gruffly.

“I don’t care,” I say, wrenching my arm from his grasp.

He sighs. “Didn’t think you did, I just had to make sure you knew.”

I make a beeline for the hospital, Haymitch on my heels. I quickly realize I have no idea which room she’s in, but it’s no matter because as soon as we near the entrance, the doors burst open, revealing Boggs and a few other unknown faces from 13 pushing along an empty gurney, flanked on either side by medics, one of which I immediately recognize as Prim.

“Where is she?” I ask her, eyeing the empty gurney anxiously.

Prim stops, letting the others continue on without her. “She’s stable, Peeta. She’s all right.”

“I have to see her,” I say.

Even though I’m four years her senior, I feel like a child as Prim takes my hand and leads me and Haymitch through a maze of hallways to Katniss’ room.

Katniss lays in her hospital bed, but in spite of a few scary-looking tubes sprouting from her arms and alarmingly large bandages banded across her torso, visible through her paper thin gown, she looks extraordinarily normal. Paler than I’ve ever seen her, but her nonetheless. Alive, and so so beautiful.

I take the first deep breath I’ve had in hours as I sidle up to her bedside. “Prim, what can I do?”

She’s in that haze she goes into whenever she’s healing someone. I know it well, it’s the same one I go into whenever I’m painting. I know her first instinct is to tell me to buzz off, but something about my presence has cracked the glazed look in her eyes, and I know she’s speaking to me as a sister — not a medic — when she places my hand in Katniss’ and says, “Stay with her. Please.”

“Always,” I mumble, my words barely audible as I take a seat in the chair beside her bed.

I’ve given this answer before. To Katniss, as she drifted off into the clutches of sleep syrup. I wonder if she remembers it. She probably doesn’t. There’s a lot she doesn’t remember. A lot she doesn’t know. Like how I had stayed until dawn, until Prim relieved me of my vigil.

Prim exchanges a look with Haymitch before giving my arm a friendly squeeze and leaving us alone with our girl.

I cup her face in my free hand, brushing my thumb over her cheek, causing her to stir lightly, her fingers twitching infinitesimally. “I’m right here, Katniss.”

Haymitch takes up the seat opposite mine, giving me a wary once-over. “You okay, kid?”

“I will be when she wakes up,” I say honestly. “I just . . .” I hate being vulnerable with Haymitch, and I’m sure he hates it just as much as I do, but it doesn’t do any good to lie to him about how I feel about Katniss; he has a way of cutting straight to the truth with me, and always has — ever since the first day we met. “I really do love her, Haymitch. I always will. In any way that she’ll have me. And this is terrifying.”

Haymitch gains a distant look in his eyes, as if he’s looking through me instead of at me. “You love her like all-fire, huh?”

All-fire? “Something like that,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck bashfully. All-fire. I hadn’t heard anyone use that word in years. The last time I’d heard it had probably been from Katniss’ dad. I’d never really understood what it meant either, but now that Haymitch has said it, it feels fitting.

Haymitch continues to stare through me for a moment before finally breaking away his stare. He pushes his chair into the corner and snags a hospital blanket from the foot of Katniss’ bed. I shoot him a look, but he just shrugs. “What? It’s not like she’s gonna notice.”

He turns out the harsh fluorescent lights before curling up in his chair, tucking the blanket up to his chin and closing his eyes, leaving only a single candle burning on her nightstand.

I’m getting pretty tired myself, but I can’t bring myself to sleep.

All-fire.

I hold Katniss’ hand in both of mine. Her hand’s still warm.

Still her.

Still here.

All-fire.

I think maybe it’s the kind that blooms brighter in the dark, when there’s no one left to watch us, to scrutinize our every move.

So I sit in the quiet glow, and I wait for her to come back to me.

[scarletwinterxx]

bend the brake - choi seungcheol imagine

istg i would have posted this days ago BUT I HAD TO RE-EDIT SO MANY TIMES bcs it wont fit here. so finally finalllyyy here you go🫠🤣

you can follow me on x, my un there niniramyeonie 😊🌻

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(photos not mine, credits to rightful owner)

The fluorescent glow of the convenience store flickers slightly as you step outside, a bag of snacks in one hand, a cold drink in the other. The streets are quiet, the late hour settling over the city like a thick blanket. You should probably be at home, curled up in bed, but the craving for something sweet had been too strong to resist.

You flip the snack over in your hands, eyes scanning the label, not really paying attention to where you're going.

And then the deafening screech of tires rips through the silence.

Your head snaps up just in time to see headlights cutting through the night, blinding and too close. Your breath catches in your throat, your body freezing in place—

The car stops mere inches from you, the force of its abrupt halt vibrating through the pavement.

For a moment, nothing moves then, the driver’s side door swings open with a sharp click.

A man steps out.

Dressed in black, broad shoulders tense under the dim streetlight. His dark hair falls slightly over his forehead, framing sharp, striking features. Even in the low light, his presence is overwhelming, like a force of nature. His gaze locks onto you—dark, intense, and filled with irritation.

“What the hell were you doing?” His voice is low, edged with frustration.

You blink, your breath still uneven. “I—I wasn’t—”

“Looking?” He scoffs, running a hand through his hair before exhaling sharply. “You were too busy staring at whatever’s in your hand to notice you almost walked into a moving car.”

You shrink back slightly, gripping the plastic bag tighter. “I didn’t mean to…”

His jaw clenches, and for a second, it looks like he’s debating whether to say something else. But instead, he just shakes his head. “Be more careful.”

He turns on his heel, already reaching for his car door.

You should just let him leave. This is already embarrassing enough. But before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, “Um—thank you for stopping.”

He pauses. Just for a second. Then, without a word, he gets into the car, the engine roaring to life. You stand there, heart still pounding, staring after him.

Who was that?

You push open the door to your apartment, still slightly dazed from what just happened. The faint scent of the vanilla candle Jihyo always insists on lighting.

Jihyo is sprawled on the couch, her legs tucked under a blanket, a half-eaten bowl of popcorn resting on her lap. She barely glances up from her drama before doing a double take.

“Why do you look like that?” she asks, eyes narrowing.

You blink. “Like what?”

She points a finger at you. “Like you just saw a ghost. Or like you committed a crime. Did you commit a crime?”

“No! What—why would that be your first guess?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know, you do look suspicious. And you’re clutching that bag like it’s your last meal.”

Only then do you realize how tightly you’re holding onto your convenience store snacks. You exhale, finally setting them on the counter before collapsing onto the couch beside her.

“I almost got run over,” you mumble.

Jihyo gasps, sitting up so fast the blanket slides off her shoulders. “WHAT?”

You wince. “Okay, maybe not that dramatic. But this really fancy car came out of nowhere, and I wasn’t looking, and he had to brake really hard.”

She stares at you, horrified. “Are you okay?! Did he yell at you? Wait—was he hot?”

You sigh, sinking further into the couch. “He looked scary.”

Jihyo raises a brow. “Scary how? Like, actually scary or hot scary?”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “Why are those the only two options?”

“Because that’s how the universe works.”

You groan again. “Jihyo.”

“What? I’m just saying.” She waves a hand. “Did he at least make sure you were okay?”

You pause, remembering the way he had sighed before telling you to be more careful. The brief hesitation before he drove off.

“…Kind of?”

“Did you get his name?”

“No.”

Jihyo pouts. “Ugh, tragic.” Then, after a beat, her expression brightens mischievously. “But don’t worry! If fate wants you to meet your mysterious scary-hot man again, it’ll happen.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the tiny smile on your lips as you retreat to your room.

Fate? Well, hopefully, fate lets you not embarrass yourself next time.

Turns out fate is not on your side at all. Either that or you have a knack at embarrassing yourself.

Balancing a stack of art supplies and teaching materials while pushing open the café door is not your smartest idea. But your kids needed these for their next activity, and you were too stubborn to make two trips.

You shift the weight in your arms, carefully maneuvering your way inside and walk straight into someone.

“Whoa—careful.”

The deep voice sends an odd shiver down your spine, familiar in a way you can’t place right away. You look up, breath catching slightly as you meet dark eyes framed by sharp features and messy black hair.

It takes him half a second to recognize you.

“You.”

Your eyes widen. “M-me?”

His gaze flickers over you, and something shifts in his expression—mild surprise, a trace of amusement. “Yeah. You almost walked into my car the other night.”

Your stomach twists in a mix of embarrassment and disbelief. Of course, fate just had to throw you into his path again.

“I—uh—” You flounder for words, cheeks burning. “I was distracted.”

“Yeah. I noticed.”

You glance down, pretending to readjust your grip on the supplies. “Thanks for catching that.”

“You should really work on watching where you’re going.”

You scowl, but it lacks any real bite. “I do watch where I’m going.”

He tilts his head slightly, clearly unimpressed. “You sure about that?”

You huff, adjusting your things. “I was just in a rush.”

He eyes the stack in your arms, then sighs before reaching out and effortlessly taking half of it from you.

Your mouth falls open. “What—wait—you don’t have to—”

“Just tell me where you’re going,” he says, already turning toward the counter. “Unless you want to drop everything in the middle of the café.” You stare at him, completely thrown off by the unexpected gesture.

Who is he?

You follow him toward the counter, still slightly dazed by how effortlessly he took half of your things.

“I—I can carry it myself,” you mumble, though the words come out weaker than intended.

He doesn’t even glance back. “You were barely holding onto them a second ago.”

You press your lips together, feeling your face heat up. The café is comfortably warm, but somehow, standing next to him makes it feel ten degrees hotter. As you reach an empty table, he sets your things down with ease. 

A beat of silence stretches between you before you clear your throat.

“Um… about that night,” you start hesitantly, shifting on your feet. “I—I never really got to say it properly, but… I’m really sorry. For, you know, almost getting run over.”

He leans against the chair, arms crossing over his chest as he looks at you. His dark eyes hold something unreadable, something that makes you feel even smaller under his gaze.

Then, to your surprise, his lips twitch slightly. “At least you admit it this time.”

You duck your head, flustered. “I admitted it before…”

“Mm. Not really.”

You peek up at him, only to find that he’s watching you with mild amusement, as if he finds your reaction entertaining.

The realization makes you even more shy, and you quickly look away, fiddling with your sleeves. “W-well, I mean it. I’ll be more careful next time.”

He hums, seemingly satisfied with that answer. “Good.”

Another brief silence. You wonder if you should say something else, but before you can, a voice calls from behind him.

“Cheol, let’s go!”

You blink as a familiar figure strolls toward your table. Your eyes widen slightly. They know each other?

Seungcheol—Cheol?—glances over his shoulder before turning back to you. “You good with your stuff now?”

You nod quickly. “Y-yeah! Thank you.”

He gives you one last look, then, without another word, he turns and walks off, leaving you standing there, still flustered, still trying to process everything.

As Seungcheol and his friend head toward the exit, you finally let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. But then you notice it. The way the café has gotten quieter. The way people are looking at you.

“…That was Choi Seungcheol, right?”

“Yeah! And Jeonghan was with him…”

“What’s a racer like him doing here?”

You blink, confusion washing over you. Racer?

Your gaze follows theirs, staring at the door as it swings shut behind the two men. The image of Seungcheol’s sharp features, the way he carried himself, the confidence in his stride—it all clicks into place.

He wasn’t just some random guy you almost walked into that night. He was someone. Someone famous. And you, completely oblivious, had apologized to him like he was just any other stranger.

The moment you step into your apartment, exhausted from the day’s events, Jihyo barely gives you a chance to breathe before she’s dragging you onto the couch.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, again” she says, eyeing you suspiciously. “What happened now?”

You sigh, dropping your bag onto the floor. “You remember the guy I almost walked into the other night?”

Her expression sharpens. “Scary-hot guy? Yeah, obviously.”

“Well…” You shift uncomfortably. “I ran into him again today. At the café.”

“And?”

“And then I found out who he actually is.”

Jihyo narrows her eyes. “What do you mean?”

You bite your lip. “He’s—um. He’s kind of famous?” 

You tell her everything, from that night to meeting him again at the cafe to the stares of everyone there. She blinks. Once. Twice. Then, when realization dawns, she screams.

“YOU DIDN’T TELL ME IT WAS CHOI SEUNGCHEOL? YOU ALMOST DIED UNDER CHOI SEUNGCHEOL’S CAR?!”

You groan, flopping onto the couch. “I did not almost die!”

Jihyo looks absolutely betrayed. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Do you know who he is?”

“I do now!”

“He’s not just famous!” She grips your shoulders. “He’s the Choi Seungcheol! The biggest name in racing right now! Literally the best in the circuit! People would sell their souls just to meet him!”

You blink. “Oh.”

Jihyo groans, grabbing a pillow and squeezing it like it personally offended her. “This is so unfair. People dream about meeting Seungcheol and you—you almost became a headline without even realizing it!”

You groan again, covering your face. “Can you not say it like that?”

She huffs, shaking her head. “Unbelievable. You, the one person in this city who doesn’t know anything about racing, are somehow fated to cross paths with Choi Seungcheol.”

You peek at her between your fingers. “I don’t think fate is the one messing with me. I think it’s you.”

=

It’s the weekend. Your first free day in what feels like forever. 

Your plan? Stay in bed, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, and maybe only move to grab snacks. A perfect, peaceful day of doing absolutely nothing. That is until your bedroom door slams open.

“Get up!” Jihyo’s voice pierces through your sleepy haze.

You groan, barely peeking out from your covers. “Go away.” She does not go away. Instead, she marches over, grabs your arm, and starts pulling.

“Jihyo—what the—”

“You’re coming with me,” she declares, already rifling through your closet. “There’s a party. We’re going.”

You blink, still half-asleep. “Party?”

The bar is already alive with music and laughter by the time you and Jihyo step inside. You barely have a chance to get your bearings before Jihyo is leading the way, greeting people left and right like she owns the place.

“Jihyo!” Someone waves her over, and soon, you’re being pulled into a group of her friends.

As you settle in, ordering a drink and chatting with the group, you remain completely unaware of the set of eyes that have landed on you from across the room.

At a booth near the back, a group of men sits comfortably, drinks in hand, their presence naturally commanding attention. Jeonghan, leaned back with a lazy smirk, is the first to notice.

“Well, well.” He nudges Seungcheol, nodding toward the bar. “Look who it is.”

Seungcheol follows his gaze, and his eyes land on you. You, standing with your friends, laughing at something someone just said, unaware of the attention you’re drawing.

Minghao, sitting beside Jeonghan, raises a brow. “Who?”

“That,” Jeonghan hums, “is our little crosswalk girl.”

Vernon, who’s been sipping his drink quietly, looks over too. “The one from the café?”

“The very one.”

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything, his gaze unreadable. He watches as you take a sip of your drink, eyes bright as you talk with your friends, completely oblivious to the fact that you’ve somehow, unknowingly, wandered into his world again.

The conversation flows easily, laughter spilling into the air as the music hums in the background. But eventually, your drink runs low, and you excuse yourself, weaving through the crowd toward the bar.

You squeeze into a spot near the counter, waiting for the bartender’s attention, when a voice speaks beside you.

“Didn’t expect to see someone like you here.”

You blink, turning to find a man leaning casually against the bar, there’s nothing immediately alarming about him, but something about his approach makes you instinctively straighten your posture.

You offer a polite smile. “Someone like me?”

He chuckles. “You don’t really look like the bar-hopping type.” His eyes flick over you, assessing. “First time here?”

You hesitate, choosing your words carefully. “Something like that.”

“You should let me buy your next drink, then,” he offers smoothly, setting his glass down. “I can show you around.”

Unbeknownst to you, Seungcheol has already risen from his seat.

“I appreciate the offer,” you say carefully, shifting slightly in place. “But I’m good, thanks.”

He tilts his head, a small smirk playing at his lips. “Come on, just one drink. No harm in that, right?”

The bartender finally makes his way over, and you take the opportunity to place your order, hoping the stranger will take the hint and leave it at that. But he doesn’t. Instead, he leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if he’s telling you some grand secret.

“You look a little lost,” he muses. “Let me keep you company.”

Your polite smile tightens. “I’m really not—”

A presence shifts behind you and suddenly, the atmosphere changes.

It’s subtle at first just a flicker in the air, the feeling of something shifting before you can put a name to it. Then, before you even realize what’s happening, a hand lands on the bar beside you. Close, but not touching.

The stranger’s eyes flicker up, his smirk faltering slightly. You don’t have to turn around to know someone is standing there.

And then

“I think you’re the one lost, man”

A voice. Low. Smooth. Amused, but with an edge sharp enough to cut.

You freeze.

Slowly, you turn your head aand meet Seungcheol’s gaze. He’s standing behind you, close enough that his presence is unmistakable but not intrusive.  The man studies Seungcheol for a moment, then exhales through his nose, clearly weighing his options.

“Didn’t know she had company,” he says, raising his hands slightly. “Just making conversation.”

Seungcheol doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. “She’s good.”

It’s not a threat. Not outright. But it doesn’t have to be. The stranger seems to understand that.

Only then do you fully turn to Seungcheol. For a second, neither of you speak. The music thrums around you, the dim bar lights casting sharp shadows across his features.

You clear your throat. “Thanks for… scaring him off, I guess.”

His lips twitch slightly. “I didn’t scare him.”

You give him a look. “You definitely scared him.”

Seungcheol shrugs, taking a slow sip of his drink. “Didn’t like how he was talking to you.”

You blink. It’s a simple statement, but something about it makes warmth creep up your neck.

“…Yeah,” you murmur, glancing down. “I wasn’t a fan either.”

A beat of silence passes before you glance at him again.

“So…” you start, tilting your head. “Do you just happen to be everywhere I go, or…?”

His eyes flicker with amusement. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I don’t even go anywhere.”

He smirks. “And yet, here you are.”

You huff, rolling your eyes. “Against my will, for the record.”

“You should stick with your friends.”

You blink, caught off guard by the shift in conversation. “Huh?”

He nods toward where Jihyo and the others are, still laughing and drinking, completely unaware of your interaction.

“If you don’t like dealing with guys like that,” Seungcheol says evenly, “don’t wander off alone.”

You frown. “I wasn’t wandering—”

He gives you a pointed look.

You hesitate, then sigh. “…Fine. Noted.”

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything else, just takes another slow sip of his drink. For some reason, you can’t help but smile. A strange guy, a rescue, a drink, and an oddly protective professional racer.

Your night just got a lot more interesting.

As Seungcheol steps away from the bar, making his way back to their table, he can already feel the stares. Sure enough, when he reaches the booth, Jeonghan is the first to speak, leaning forward with a knowing smirk.

Seungcheol doesn’t react, just takes a slow sip, gaze flicking toward the bar where you’ve rejoined Jihyo and your friends, seemingly unaware of the conversation happening across the room.

Jeonghan hums, following his gaze. “She’s cute.”

Seungcheol shoots him a look. “Don’t start.”

Jeonghan grins. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to.”

Minghao leans back, watching him curiously. “What’s the deal with her?”

Seungcheol exhales through his nose, setting his glass down. “Nothing. Just a familiar face.”

Jeonghan snorts. “A familiar face you’ve run into three times now.”

Vernon glances at Seungcheol. “Fate?”

“Coincidence,” Seungcheol corrects.

Jeonghan nudges Minghao. “He’s in denial.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes, leaning back in his seat. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Jeonghan just smirks, eyes flickering back to you across the room. “Maybe.” He tilts his head. “Or maybe we’re just paying attention.”

Jeonghan barely leans forward, a teasing glint in his eyes, before he starts, “But she’s really cute, so if you’re not interested—”

Seungcheol’s gaze snaps to him. Sharp. Instant. Jeonghan doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before Seungcheol’s stare shuts him down. Minghao raises an eyebrow, glancing between them.

Jeonghan, ever the troublemaker, tilts his head slightly. “Oh?”

Seungcheol doesn’t answer. Just holds his gaze. For a second, the tension lingers.

Then Jeonghan chuckles, leaning back, hands raised in mock surrender. “Alright, alright.”

Seungcheol doesn’t respond this time, just shifts his gaze back to the bar where you’re still standing, laughing at something Jihyo said, completely unaware of the conversation that just took place across the room.

The cool night air is a relief after the warmth of the bar, the buzz of conversation and music fading into the background as you stand on the sidewalk with Jihyo.

She leans against you slightly, humming to herself. She’s not completely out of it, just tipsy enough to be giggly, swaying lightly as she scrolls through her phone.

“You good?” you ask, steadying her when she wobbles.

She grins up at you. “Perfect.”

You roll your eyes, adjusting your grip on her arm. “Uh-huh. Sure you are.”

Your group had started heading home one by one, slipping out with quick goodbyes, and now it’s just the two of you waiting for a cab. 

Jihyo hums again, tapping at her phone. “Ugh, the wait time’s so long.”

“We’ll just have to be patient,” you sigh, rubbing your arms against the slight chill.

You don’t notice the familiar figures stepping out of the bar behind you.

Jihyo sighs dramatically, resting her full weight against you. “You’re so warm. You should let me borrow your body heat.”

“Or, and hear me out, you could stand on your own two feet.”

“No fun,” she whines, wrapping an arm around you in a lazy hug. “This is why you need a boyfriend. Someone to carry you when you’re drunk.”

You scoff. “I’m not the one who’s drunk.”

She ignores you. “You’d be so cute with a boyfriend. Someone big and strong.” She giggles. “Like one of those K-drama leads who act all tough but secretly—”

A throat clears behind you.

You both freeze.

Slowly, you turn your head. And there, standing a few feet away, is a group of some familiar and unfamiliar men. Seungcheol. Jeonghan. And two you’ve never met before but you’re assuming are their friends.

You blink.

Jihyo blinks.

Then

“Oh, shit,” she gasps, a little too loud.

You immediately slap a hand over her mouth. “Jihyo—”

She pries your hand away, eyes wide as she leans in close, whispering (badly), “Why didn’t you tell me they were right behind us?!”

“How was I supposed to know?!” you hiss back, mortified.

Meanwhile, the guys just stare, the silence between both groups growing increasingly awkward. Jeonghan, of course, is the first to break it.

“This is entertaining,” he muses, crossing his arms. “Don’t stop on our account.”

You groan, wanting the sidewalk to swallow you whole. “We’re done talking.”

“Oh, no, no—please, continue,” Jeonghan grins. “Something about K-drama boyfriends? Big and strong?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “I hate this.”

Jihyo, suddenly regaining her confidence, narrows her eyes at them. “Wait, why are you guys here?”

Vernon shrugs. “Same reason you are. Leaving.”

“You followed us,” she accuses.

Minghao snorts. “You were standing in the middle of the sidewalk. We walked out and saw you.”

“…Oh.” Jihyo deflates.

Seungcheol, who’s been quiet this whole time, finally exhales. “You two waiting for a cab?”

Jihyo nods. “Yeah, but the wait times suck.”

He glances at his car parked nearby, then back at you. “We could drive you.”

Jihyo perks up instantly. “Really?” You shoot her a look. “No, that’s okay—”

She elbows you. “We should say yes.”

“Jihyo,” you grit out, horrified.

“Think about it,” she whispers. “Free ride. Faster than waiting.”

Then Jeonghan, because he’s the worst, leans in slightly. “Unless you don’t trust Seungcheol’s driving?” Your eyes dart to Seungcheol. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for your answer.

You purse your lips. “I never said that.”

“So you do trust him?” Jeonghan smirks.

You scowl. “I didn’t say that either.”

Jihyo groans, gripping your shoulders. “Oh my god, just say yes so we can go home!”

Jihyo grabs your arm in a vice grip, pulling you slightly away from the guys, though her balance is… questionable at best. She leans in, eyes wide, and whisper-shouts, “He’s a good driver! He’s very famous and hot! SAY YES!”

You freeze. She thinks she’s whispering. She’s absolutely not.

The silence behind you is deafening. You close your eyes, inhale sharply, then turn your head only to find all four men staring at you. You want to die.

Jihyo, still blissfully unaware, gives you another shake. “Why are you not saying yes?! He’s right there! He knows how to drive! He’s a racer! Do you know how many girls would kill to be in this position?!”

You force a strained smile. “Jihyo.”

“What?!”

“They can hear you.”

A beat of silence. Then—she smiles, nods, and says, “Good.”

And then she turns back to you, whisper-shouting, “So now that he knows, say yes.”

Seungcheol sighs. “Get in the car.”

Jihyo beams. “See? Told you.” You shoot her a glare but begrudgingly follow Seungcheol toward his car.

You hesitate for a second, eyeing the car. Maybe if you move fast enough, you can slip into the backseat next to Jihyo and avoid—

Click.

The sound of a door opening. You turn your head and—of course—it’s Jeonghan, holding open the front passenger door with a perfectly innocent smile.

“After you,” he says smoothly.

You narrow your eyes. “I was going to sit in the back.”

He tilts his head. “But that doesn’t make sense, does it? You’re the guest, you should take the best seat.”

“I don’t—”

Jihyo, behind you, shoves your back. “Just get in!”

You shoot her a glare before reluctantly sliding into the passenger seat, cheeks burning. Jeonghan shuts the door behind you with an annoyingly satisfied look before moving to take his own seat.

Jihyo plops into the back, sighing in content. “This is nice. I could get used to this.”

You swear you hear Seungcheol let out the faintest chuckle. And then, without another word, he starts the engine—trapping you in a car with him, your tipsy best friend, and the most annoying man alive.

in the backseat, Jihyo is completely at ease. She hums along to the radio, legs crossed, looking like she’s being chauffeured. Next to her, Jeonghan has that smug little smirk the one that says he’s enjoying this way too much.

And then there’s him. Seungcheol, eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel, jaw set in quiet focus. 

You shift awkwardly, clearing your throat. “Uh… thanks. For, you know… driving us.”

He nods slightly. “It’s fine.”

You nod too, staring straight ahead. “Cool. Yeah. Fine.”

Another pause and then Jihyo ruins everything. She leans forward between the seats, squinting at the dashboard. “Wow. This car is nice.”

Seungcheol hums. “Thanks.”

“What’s the top speed?” she asks, poking at random buttons.

You slap her hand away. “Stop touching things!”

“I just wanna know!” she pouts. “What’s the fastest you’ve ever driven?”

“Not answering that,” Seungcheol replies flatly.

“Why?”

“Because you don’t need to know.”

Jihyo huffs, slumping back. “Boring.”

You sigh in relief, thinking that’s the end of it but of course, Jeonghan isn’t done. He props his chin on his hand, looking over at you. “You still don’t know who he is, do you?”

“I—uh.” You fumble. “I mean. Jihyo kind of told me?”

Jihyo snorts. “I did not ‘kind of’ tell you. I screamed it at you.”

Jeonghan grins. “So? What do you think?”

You blink. “What do I think about what?”

Seungcheol exhales quietly. “Jeonghan.”

But Jeonghan ignores him, still watching you expectantly. “About him. Y’know. The Choi Seungcheol.”

You hesitate, suddenly feeling like you’re walking into a trap. “Uh… cool?”

Jeonghan leans closer. “That’s it?”

“What else do you want me to say?!” you exclaim, flustered.

Jihyo, still tipsy but ever the enabler, chimes in: “You could mention that he’s hot.”

You whip around. “Jihyo!”

“What? It’s true!”

You slap a hand over your face, groaning. “I hate you.”

The car rolls to a smooth stop outside your apartment complex, and you exhale, relieved to finally escape this nightmare.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say quickly, reaching for the door handle before anyone can make this worse—

But, of course, Jihyo beats you to it.

She dramatically stretches in the backseat. “Ahhh, that was nice. Good company, smooth ride—” she winks at Seungcheol through the rearview mirror, “—great driver.”

You slap her thigh. “Get out.”

She laughs but obliges, pushing the door open and stepping out. You scramble out too, making your way onto the sidewalk, fully prepared to run but then Jeonghan’s window rolls down.

“Hey,” he calls out. “Try not to get hit by any cars this time, yeah?”

You glare at Jeonghan. “I hope you stub your toe when you get home.”

He grins, completely unbothered. “You’re cute when you’re mad.” And with that, the car pulls away, leaving you standing there, cheeks burning, as your best friend drags you toward your building laughing all the way.

As soon as the car pulls away, Jeonghan casually switches seats, sliding into the passenger seat with a content sigh. Seungcheol, jaw tight, doesn’t even look at him.

“…Are you mad I called her cute?”

Seungcheol’s grip tightens on the wheel. “Jeonghan.”

“What?” Jeonghan grins, turning to face him. “It’s an honest question.”

Seungcheol exhales sharply through his nose. “Drop it.”

Jeonghan tilts his head, eyes twinkling with amusement. “So that’s a yes.” Seungcheol doesn’t respond, gaze fixed on the road.

Jeonghan, delighted, leans closer. “You are mad.”

“I’m not mad,” Seungcheol says flatly.

Jeonghan hums, unconvinced. “Hmm. Sure. Not mad. Just gripping the wheel like you wanna break it.”

Seungcheol ignores him.

Jeonghan watches him for a second longer, then smirks, leaning back in his seat. “You know,” he muses, “she is really cute.”

Seungcheol exhales, long and slow, like he’s summoning every ounce of patience in his body.

Jeonghan grins. “Relax, man. It’s not like you’re jealous or anything.”

Seungcheol’s jaw clenches. “I said—”

“Uh-huh.” Jeonghan props his chin on his hand, looking way too pleased with himself. “Don’t worry. I’ll be nice.”

=

You’re comfortably settled at your desk, working on some lesson plans for your class when Jihyo bursts into your room, nearly giving you a heart attack. Before you can even react, she shoves her phone into your face.

You blink, leaning back. “What—”

She jabs at the screen. “This!”

You squint at the display, confused until you realize what you’re looking at. Choi Seungcheol’s Instagram profile.

Jihyo crosses her arms, looking at you like she just caught you. “So this is what you’re denying yourself?? Explain to me why you are not all over this man.”

Your brain bluescreens. You quickly shove her phone away, face burning. “Shut up!”

She sighs dramatically. “Babe, if it were me who bumped into him that night, best believe I would not have come home.”

You groan, covering your face. “Jihyo—”

“I mean—” She swipes to another photo, this time of him in his racing suit, looking stupidly good. “Look at him. He’s got that whole broody, ‘I’ll ruin your life but in the best way’ vibe.”

She shakes her head in awe. “That jawline should be illegal.”

She grins. “Admit it. You think he’s hot.”

You make a strangled noise. “I’m going to bed.”

Jihyo cackles, watching as you dive under your blanket in pure defeat. “Oh, babe,” she sing-songs. “You’re so done for.”

Despite Jihyo’s endless teasing and your absolute denial, the days pass and nothing happens. No accidental run-ins. No mysterious black car pulling up at the right moment. No smug Jeonghan popping out of nowhere to torment you.

You’re just at the convenience store, minding your business, waiting in line with a basket full of snacks, when you hear it

“Yeah, Seungcheol’s overseas for the big race.” Your ears perk up.

“Oh, right,” another guy says, grabbing a drink from the fridge. “Dude’s been training like crazy for this one. He’s got a good shot at winning.”

You stare blankly at the row of gum in front of you. He’s not even in Korea?

One of the guys chuckles. “I saw a clip of the press conference. He looked so serious, man. Like, no distractions, all business.”

“Hah, that’s Choi Seungcheol for you.”

You shift on your feet, suddenly feeling very silly because here you were, half-expecting some dramatic encounter, maybe another near-death experience (not that you wanted one), or at the very least, something. You pay for your things, walk out of the store, and absolutely do not check your phone for race updates.

It starts with a simple search. Just one harmless search. You’re curled up in bed, snacks within reach, telling yourself it’s just curiosity. And yet the moment you hit enter, you realize you’ve made a grave mistake.

Because there he is.

Choi Seungcheol.

Not just one picture, but thousands. Articles, interviews, highlights from races, candid photos at events. He’s everywhere.

You stare, entranced.

This is the same guy who caught you almost getting run over. The same guy who watched you squint at a menu like an old lady. The same guy who bought your coffee without a word.

You’re still deep in your self-inflicted spiral, scrolling through every article and picture you can find. And then you see it.

The latest update.

Choi Seungcheol Wins International Grand Prix!

You find yourself smiling a little. You don’t even know this guy properly, but still… it’s nice to see.

Then you scroll down. And stop.

Because there’s a picture of him not with his team, but with a girl. She’s standing close to him, a hand on his arm, smiling up at him while he looks at her.

Oh.

You stare at the image, a weird, sinking feeling settling in your chest. She’s stunning. The kind of gorgeous that makes you feel like you should sit up straighter, fix your hair, do something. 

You quickly exit out of the tab, tossing your phone onto the bed like it burned you. What did you expect? Of course someone like him would have a girlfriend.

A few days passed. Not that you’re sulking. You’ve decided to move on. You’ve accepted reality. Choi Seungcheol is just a passing encounter in your life. 

It’s fine. What’s not fine is this stupid bag of snacks that won’t open.

You frown, wrestling with the plastic as you step out of the convenience store, fully focused on your struggle. You huff, gripping it tighter, about to really go for it when

A loud honk blasts through the air.

You freeze.

The next second, the sound of tires screeching fills your ears. A bright flash of headlights and then a strong hand grabs you, pulling you back just as a sleek black car zooms by. Your breath catches. Heart hammering, you slowly lift your gaze to the person who just saved you

And your brain short-circuits.

Because standing there, gripping your wrist, looking at you like you’re the single biggest headache in his life is Choi Seungcheol.

Fresh off his international win. Back in Korea. And very much here. “Seriously?”

You blink up at him, mind racing, struggling to process the fact that he’s here. Right in front of you. 

"Seriously?" he asks again. Before you can even think of a response, another voice speaks behind Seungcheol, and you turn just in time to see Jeonghan

“Oh my god,” he lets out a laugh, looking between you and Seungcheol. “Again?”

“I—” you start, but Jeonghan just shakes his head, looking at Seungcheol. “Be honest. Is she actually in danger all the time, or do you just have some weird sixth sense for when she’s about to get hit by something?”

Seungcheol scoffs, finally letting go of your wrist. “I don’t have a sixth sense.”

Jeonghan tilts his head. “I don’t know, man. That’s twice now. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were her personal bodyguard.”

“I—I wasn’t paying attention,” you mumble, gripping your stupid snack bag tighter.

Seungcheol pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, no kidding.”

“I was distracted—”

“With what?” he snaps. “Your life flashing before your eyes?”

You scowl, shoving the bag toward him. “This wouldn’t open!”

Seungcheol stares at it. Then at you. Jeonghan bursts out laughing.

“Oh my god,” he wheezes, doubling over. “You almost died over potato chips?”

“I wasn’t going to die—”

“You weren’t even looking,” Seungcheol cuts in, eyes narrowing. You freeze, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. 

You swallow, suddenly feeling small. “I—I didn’t mean to…”

His jaw tightens, but he exhales, shaking his head like he’s trying to let it go. “Just—be more careful.”

You nod, looking down at your feet. Jeonghan, sensing the shift in mood, clears his throat. “Anyway,” he drawls, clapping a hand on Seungcheol’s shoulder. “Before you fully commit to your new job as her official savior, can we go? I’m running on fumes, man”

Jeonghan grins. “We can drop you off”

Seungcheol glares at him. “Jeonghan.”

“What?” Jeonghan shrugs

You hold up a hand, shaking your head frantically. “I—no, it’s okay! I was just—”

Jeonghan grins wider. “See? She didn’t say no.”

Seungcheol sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “I hate you.”

Jeonghan slaps his back. “That’s fair. Now, come on, mystery girl. Let’s get you home in one piece”

And before you fully process what’s happening, you find yourself being pulled toward the car—toward another unexpected run-in with Choi Seungcheol.

Fate, it seems, isn’t quite done playing with you yet.

You don’t know how this happened. One second, you were nearly flattened by a car (again), and the next, you were being dragged by Jeonghan who apparently has no concept of personal space or asking for permission.

Now, you’re in the backseat of Choi Seungcheol’s car, clutching your still-unopened bag of chips like it’s your last lifeline.

“So, really, where were you looking?” he asks, turning slightly to glance at you. “Because if I was about to get hit, I’d at least want to see it coming.”

You glare at him. “I told you. The bag wouldn’t open.”

Jeonghan laughs. “I still can’t believe that’s what almost took you out. You know they put little notches for easy tearing, right?”

“...Not all of them work.”

Jeonghan sighs, shaking his head. “Natural selection is really out here working overtime.”

Seungcheol, who’s been silent this whole time, suddenly exhales sharply. “Jeonghan.”

“What?” Jeonghan grins. “I’m just saying, it’s a miracle she’s still alive.”

You sneak a glance at the rearview mirror, catching his reflection. He looks… tense. One hand on the wheel, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the road.

You wonder if he regrets stopping for you. Your stomach twists. It’s stupid, but you still feel a little weird about it. And now, sitting here, in his car, after all that unnecessary sulking? You feel… even weirder.

You shift uncomfortably, fingers fidgeting with the chip bag. You barely know these guys. One of them is a literal international racing champion, and the other is his unreasonably charming best friend. Meanwhile, you’re just… you. A kindergarten teacher who almost got flattened over snacks

The contrast is almost laughable.

“…You good back there?” Jeonghan’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

You blink, realizing you’ve been sulking again. “What? Yeah. Totally fine.”

Jeonghan smirks. “Uh-huh. You definitely look fine. Real picture of peace and happiness.”

You scowl, but before you can respond, Seungcheol speaks up his voice calm but firm.

“Jeonghan. Shut up.”

Jeonghan grins. “Ohhh. He’s using his serious voice.”

Seungcheol sighs, gripping the wheel tighter. “I should’ve left you on the sidewalk.”

“And yet,” Jeonghan says smugly, “you didn’t.”

Seungcheol glares at him. You feel like you’re witnessing a very old, very repetitive argument.

“Anyway,” Jeonghan continues, ignoring the daggers being stared into his skull, “since you’re so fine, tell me—how do you feel knowing you’re currently in a very expensive car, sitting behind a very famous race car driver?”

You hesitate. Then—

“…I feel like I should’ve taken the bus.”

Jeonghan bursts out laughing. Even Seungcheol’s lips twitch slightly, though he hides it well.

“Alright,” Jeonghan chuckles, shaking his head. “I like you.”

You don’t know why, but your face warms a little at that. You ignore it, focusing instead on the bag in your hands. Your stupid, unopened bag of chips. The red light feels like it’s taking forever to change.

With a sigh, you look at Seungcheol. “Can you open this?”

For the first time since you got in the car, he fully turns his head to look at you. His expression is blank.

“Seriously?”

You pout. “It won’t open.”

Seungcheol stares for another second before muttering something under his breath. Then, with one hand still on the wheel, he takes the bag from you and effortlessly tears it open with zero struggle.

You stare. He hands it back without a word, eyes back on the road.

Jeonghan looks between the two of you, then shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “Ohhh, this is gonna be fun.”

You hesitate for a second, fingers tightening around your newly opened bag of chips, before finally mumbling, “Congratulations, by the way.”

It’s so quiet that you’re not even sure he hears it

“…Thanks,” Seungcheol says after a beat, voice softer than before.

“Cute girlfriend, by the way.” It just slips out.

Jeonghan, who had just taken a sip of his drink, makes a sudden choking sound. “Oh—oh my god.”

Seungcheol’s fingers twitch. You freeze, realizing what you just said, how you just said it, and immediately regret everything. You look up only to find Seungcheol’s eyes in the rearview mirror, dark and unreadable.

“…What?” His voice is flat

You clear your throat, trying to play it off. “The girl. In that picture. Looked… cute.”

Jeonghan, recovering from his near-death experience, turns fully in his seat to look at you, a wicked grin stretching across his face. “Oh wow. This is amazing.”

You glare at him. “What?”

“So, you did look him up.”

Your soul leaves your body. Seungcheol is still silent. 

“I—no—I just—” You scramble for a response, but Jeonghan is already grinning like the devil himself.

“You did.” He laughs, clapping his hands together. “Oh, this is good. This is so good.”

“Shut up,” you hiss, face burning.

“I mean,” Jeonghan continues, completely ignoring him, “I knew you weren’t completely oblivious, but this confirms everything—”

“Jeonghan.” This time, there’s a warning in Seungcheol’s tone. Jeonghan raises his hands in surrender, but his smirk remains.  You, meanwhile, are trying very, very hard to disappear into the seat.

Seungcheol finally glances at you again, eyes unreadable. “It’s not what you think.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“The picture.” His fingers drum against the wheel. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Your breath catches slightly, but you quickly school your expression into something neutral. “Oh. I mean—I didn’t—” You clear your throat. “I wasn’t assuming anything.” Lies.

Jeonghan is watching the exchange very closely, eyes flicking between the two of you with amusement.

“Right,” he drawls. “And you totally weren’t sulking when you saw it, huh?”

Your soul leaves your body for the second time in five minutes. Seungcheol sighs, shaking his head. You, meanwhile, are seriously considering rolling out of the moving vehicle.

=

It’s Friday afternoon, and you’re in the middle of prepping lesson plans when your phone buzzes. You glance at the screen.

Seungcheol: Do you have plans this weekend?

Your heart does a little skip. Which is dumb. You ignore that.

You: Why?

Seungcheol: Race this weekend. Sending you a pass if you want to come.

You: Can Jihyo come?

Seungcheol: ...Do I have a choice?

You snort. Nope. He sends an exasperated-looking emoji. Then: Fine. I’ll send two.

You grin, typing back. Thanks, Cheol :)

Seungcheol leans against his car, phone in hand, watching as the dots appear and disappear on his screen. When your reply finally comes through, he stares at it for a second.

Thanks, Cheol :)

His grip tightens on the phone. The hell was that?

His brows furrow. He wasn’t expecting a nickname. Or the stupid little smiley face. He exhales, running a hand through his hair. 

“You look stressed.”

Seungcheol clenches his jaw as Jeonghan appears beside him, sipping an iced coffee like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Jeonghan peeks at his phone screen, then grins. “Oh? You invited her?”

“Mind your business.”

Jeonghan just laughs, patting his shoulder. “Can’t wait to see her. She’s cute.”

Come the day of the race. You clutch the pass in your hand, eyes wide as you stare at the sectioned-off area in front of you.

Jihyo whistles lowly beside you. "Damn. You got connections."

You elbow her. "I do not."

She smirks. "Oh, but you do—VIP passes, babe. Not just regular seats. VIP."

You’re still trying to process it. You thought maybe some decent seats but no. This is practically in the pit area, near the teams, where you can see the racers up close.

You fidget with the hem of your sundress, trying to keep it down as the wind playfully tugs at the fabric. Jihyo had insisted you wear it, claiming it was perfect for today. And sure, it’s cute, but you’re not used to wearing something like this.

Your eyes follow the cars as they weave and speed around the track, and even though you can’t see his face, you somehow know which one is Seungcheol. He drives with such control, such confidence it’s ridiculous. It’s nerve-wracking, but thrilling at the same time. When the checkered flag waves, signaling the end, the crowd erupts in cheers.

Seungcheol won.

Then someone is standing beside your seat. He glances at a clipboard, then at you. "Mr. Choi asked me to bring you down to the pit."

"Wh—" You blink. "Me?"

The guy nods. "Yeah, you."

She gasps dramatically. "Oh my God, you’re getting the main character treatment."

You glare at her. "Shut up—"

"Come on." The team member jerks his head toward the entrance leading down to the pit area. "He’s waiting."

Jihyo shoves you forward. "GO, OH MY GOD."

You stumble, gripping your dress, and follow behind the guy as he leads you down. The pit area is loud. 

"Hey." You turn at the sound of his voice. Seungcheol is standing a few feet away, unzipping the top half of his racing suit, revealing a black sleeveless undershirt. His hair is messy from the helmet, and he looks like he just stepped out of an action movie.

Your brain empties.

"Hi."

One of the other racers whistles. "Cheol, why didn’t you tell us you had a good luck charm?"

Seungcheol glares at the guy, and he immediately shuts up. He turns his attention back to you, eyes scanning your expression. "You okay?"

You nod way too quickly. "Yes."

His lips twitch, like he’s holding back a smile. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Y-Yeah!" You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to compose yourself. "It was… really cool. Kind of scary, but mostly cool."

A beat passes. He watches you for a moment before he shifts slightly closer. "You sure?"

You swallow hard. "Yeah." 

Before you can say anything else, someone calls his name from across the pit. He sighs, glancing toward them, then back at you.

"Good."

Just as Seungcheol turns to leave, one of his team members hands him a jacket—a sleek black one with his name embroidered on the front. 

The wind picks up right at that moment, making your dress flutter. Seungcheol exhales, a small shake of his head, then without warning he moves closer. He holds out his jacket.

"Here."

"W-What?"

He lifts a brow. "You keep fidgeting."

"But—"

"Just take it." His voice is firm, leaving no room for argument.

You hesitate, your fingers twitching at your sides. "But won’t you need it?"

"I’m fine," he says simply. "You, on the other hand, are obviously cold."

The sleeves are way too long, and the jacket itself is so oversized that it practically swallows you. But the moment you wrap it around yourself, a wave of warmth washes over you—both from the fabric and the fact that it’s his.

Seungcheol watches you pull it tighter around yourself, then nods in satisfaction. "Better?"

You nod frantically, voice barely above a whisper. "Y-Yeah."

He smirks slightly. "Good."

Then, before you can even process what just happened, he turns around and walks away leaving you standing there in the middle of the pit, drowning in his jacket, and burning with embarrassment.

By the time dinner ends, it’s late, the streets quieter as most of the city starts winding down for the night. One by one, the group starts heading out. Vernon and Minghao take off first, and Jeonghan lingers only long enough to throw one last smirk your way before disappearing too.

Then it’s just you, Jihyo, and Seungcheol standing outside the restaurant.

Jihyo stretches, humming in satisfaction. "Alright, how are we getting home?"

Seungcheol pulls out his keys. "I’ll drive you."

Jihyo, ever the social butterfly, starts the trip off chatting about the food, the restaurant, Jeonghan’s nonsense but after a few minutes, she slowly starts dozing off. By the time you reach the highway, she’s out cold, head slumped against the window, completely knocked out.

So now, it’s just you and Seungcheol. And the silence.

You shift in your seat, sneaking a glance at him. He’s focused on the road, one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily against the gear shift.

You clear your throat. "Thanks for the ride."

"Did you have fun?"

"Huh?"

He keeps his eyes ahead. "The race. The dinner. The whole thing."

You hesitate. Then, feeling a little shy, you nod. "Yeah. It was fun."

A ghost of a smile tugs at his lips. "Good."

The rest of the drive was quiet. You're lost in thought when suddenly you hear him,

"We’re here."

You blink and sure enough, the car is parked right in front of your apartment complex. You don’t even think. You just unbuckle your seatbelt, practically launch yourself out of the car

"Thanksfortheridegoodnight!" Then you shut the door behind you, making your escape.

Seungcheol watches, one hand on the wheel, the other resting against his chin. His lips twitch.

From the passenger seat, Jihyo stirs, barely cracking an eye open. "She’s so down bad," she mumbles sleepily.

Seungcheol huffs out a quiet laugh.

=

The week had been brutal.

You loved your job but spending all day surrounded by energetic little humans could be exhausting.  And now, finally, finally, you had a moment to yourself. Which was why you were out again, wandering the quiet streets, enjoying the cool air.

And before you even realized it—

You were calling Seungcheol.

He picked up on the second ring.

"Where are you?" His voice was low, direct.

You blinked. "What?"

"You don’t usually call," he said. "Where are you?"

"Oh, um." You rubbed your arm, glancing around. "I’m just out on a walk."

"Alone?"

You frowned. "…Yeah?"

Seungcheol sighed. You could practically hear him shaking his head. "Of course you are."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Stay there. I’m coming to get you."

Your eyes widened. "Wait, what—"

Click. He hung up. You stared at your phone. "…Did he just—"

Before you could even process it, headlights approached from down the street.And there he was. You blinked. Then blinked again.

"How did you—"

Seungcheol gave you a look as he rolled down the window. "You take the same route every time."

You blinked again, your brain still catching up. "I—what?"

"That’s dangerous, by the way, Someone could easily figure that out."

You stared at him. "You just did."

"Exactly. Get in the car."

You huffed, rubbing your temples. "I was just taking a walk."

"And now you’re taking a ride," he countered smoothly. "C’mon, before I get out and make you."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "You wouldn’t."

Seungcheol unbuckled his seatbelt.

Your eyes widened. "Okay! Okay!"

You hurried to the passenger side, pulling open the door and climbing in. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic," he deadpanned, putting the car back in drive. You sat there, hands tucked into your lap, the hum of the car filling the silence. 

You swallowed. "So, uh… now what?"

Seungcheol flicked his turn signal on, eyes still on the road. "Dunno. You tell me. You’re the one who called."

You bit your lip. "Right. About that."

He glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

You hesitated, suddenly regretting all your life choices. "It was an accident."

Seungcheol scoffed, amused. "That’s a lie."

You groaned, throwing your head back against the seat. "Okay, fine! I just—" You sighed, watching the streetlights blur past. "I guess I just wanted to talk to someone?"

"Rough day?"

"More like a rough week," you muttered, rubbing your eyes. "The kids have been so hyper lately, and I’ve just been so tired. But it’s not even a bad tired, you know? It’s just a lot sometimes."

Seungcheol hummed, a small nod. "Yeah. I get it."

"You do?"

"Mhm." His grip on the wheel tightened slightly. "Racing’s fun. I love it. But there’s always a pressure to be on top, to perform well. Sometimes it gets overwhelming."

Seungcheol sighed, stretching out one hand before gripping the wheel again. "I go on night drives when I need to clear my head."

You stared at him, something clicking into place. "That’s why you knew my route."

He smirked slightly. "Guilty."

"I take walks, you take drives. Same thing, different speeds."

"Guess so." A comfortable silence settled between you. You glanced out the window, watching the city lights glow in the dark.

"Hey, Cheol?"

"Hm?"

"…Thanks."

You glanced at him again, blinking. He was focused on the road, but his grip on the wheel had tightened just slightly. 

"For your information, I survived just fine before, you know. And i take different routes like the convenient store"

Seungcheol scoffed, barely sparing you a glance. "You almost got ran over because you were too busy sulking over a picture of me with a girl and almost died"

You choked. "I— What—"

He smirked. "What? Cat got your tongue?"

"I was not sulking!"

"Right. Totally explains why you looked like you were mourning when we saw you"

You groaned, peeking at him through your fingers. "Okay, but seriously. Who was she?"

"Told you already. A model for the brand we were promoting."

You pursed your lips. "And you just let people think she was your girlfriend?"

"Why would I care?"

You blinked at him. "Because rumors like that spread?"

"And?"

You stared at him like he’d grown a second head. "And they can cause misunderstandings!"

"Only if you believe them. You believed them?"

Your face heated again. "N-no!"

He smirked. "So you were sulking for no reason."

"Oh my god, I’m jumping out of this car."

Seungcheol laughed, shaking his head. "You’re so easy to mess with."

You scowled at him, but your heart was doing that weird thing again. You ignored it, sinking into your seat with a grumble.

"Whatever," you muttered. "I survived just fine without you, anyway."

Seungcheol didn’t say anything to that, just tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. A few seconds passed before he muttered, almost too quiet for you to hear

"Yeah. But I still worry"

=

It was just another normal day or at least, that was what you thought.

You were on your way back from grabbing lunch when you passed by a group of girls near the coffee shop. You weren’t intentionally eavesdropping, but the name Choi Seungcheol caught your attention.

"Did you see the pictures?" one of them gushed, holding up her phone. "He looks so good."

"I know, right?" another sighed dreamily. "And the model is there again. I swear, they have to be dating."

Your step faltered.

"She literally flew out just for the event," one of them continued. "If that doesn’t say girlfriend, I don’t know what does."

"They look so good together."

"I bet they’re just keeping it private."

You stared down at your drink, suddenly losing your appetite. Of course the rumors were back. Of course. You weren’t even sure why it bothered you so much. It wasn’t like Seungcheol owed you an explanation. He could date whoever he wanted.

You shook your head, scolding yourself. It doesn’t matter. It’s not your business. And yet, as you walked away, you couldn’t help but feel like a rock had settled in your stomach.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, snapping you out of your thoughts. You pulled it out, glancing at the screen.

Seungcheol.

You debated ignoring it. You weren’t in the mood. But your thumb betrayed you, swiping to answer.

"What."

There was silence on the other end. You never greeted him like that. Usually, it was your usual bright, shy "Hello?" or a nervous "Hi." But this? This was new.

"...Are you okay?" he finally asked, voice slower than usual, as if testing the waters.

You sighed, pushing open the door to your workplace. "Yeah, I’m fine. Why?"

"You sound—" he hesitated. "Different."

"I’m busy," you muttered, balancing your drink in one hand as you fumbled with your things. "What do you need?"

Seungcheol didn’t reply immediately. You could feel him trying to figure you out, and for some reason, that made you more annoyed.

"I was just calling to check on you," he finally said.

That caught you off guard. Your grip tightened around your phone.

You huffed. "I’m good. Enjoy your event."

You weren’t sure what this feeling was, but damn, it felt good to be glaring at everything.

The printer that took forever? Glare. The kid who knocked over their juice box? Squint. Your coworker asking if you were okay? Tight-lipped smile that was anything but a smile.

Maybe it was childish. Maybe you were overreacting. But at this point, you didn’t care. You didn’t even know why you felt so off. It wasn’t like you and Seungcheol were anything.

Meanwhile, across town, Seungcheol was still staring at his phone, completely thrown off. He wasn’t used to hearing you like that. You were always soft-spoken, shy, a little hesitant—but never cold. Never distant.

“What the hell was that?” he muttered to himself.

"That," came Jeonghan’s amused voice beside him, "was a very pissed-off woman."

Seungcheol shot him a look. "She said she was fine."

Jeonghan snorted. "And you believed her?" He leaned in, glancing at the phone. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," Seungcheol bit out, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah? Well, she clearly thinks otherwise," Jeonghan mused, nodding toward the crowd of cameras flashing in the distance. "Think it’s the rumors?"

Seungcheol’s jaw tightened. The articles, the fan speculation, the model that everyone kept trying to link him with. He never paid them much attention before.

But you… you might have.

"She knows it’s not like that," he muttered.

"Does she?"

You had just clocked out of work, exhausted, ready to take the bus home and forget about the ridiculous thoughts swirling in your head. But then you saw it. A familiar black car parked near the bus stop.

Hard to miss. And even harder to miss was the very famous racer leaning casually against it, hands in his pockets, watching you like he was waiting for you.

Then, the annoyance you’d been holding in all day came rushing back. You stomped over, stopping right in front of him, arms crossed tight against your chest.

"What do you think you’re doing?" you demanded, eyes narrowing.

Seungcheol barely blinked, like he had expected this reaction. "Picking you up."

"Why?"

"Because you hung up on me," he said simply, pushing off the car. "And you sounded mad."

"I'm not mad," you scoffed, which was a total lie, and he knew it.

"You’re always bad at lying, but that was just embarrassing." The confidence. The nerve. You wanted to stomp your foot like a child. You glare at him, arms still crossed, feet planted firmly on the ground. 

Seungcheol watches you, then takes a slow breath, like he’s surrendering. The cocky smirk fades just a little, his posture shifts, and this time, when he speaks, his voice is softer.

"Let me take you home." Not a demand. Not an assumption. A request.

Your glare wavers, just a little.

It’s annoying, really, how easily he throws you off. Just a second ago, you were ready to fight him in the middle of this parking lot, but now? Now your heart is doing that stupid thing again, beating way too fast just because he asked instead of told.

You purse your lips. "You didn’t have to come all the way here."

"I know."

"You’re busy."

"Not right now."

You shift on your feet, fingers gripping your bag strap. You know you should just say no, get on the bus, and pretend none of this is affecting you. But Seungcheol is still standing there, watching you with something unreadable in his expression.

"...Fine," you mumble, looking away.

He opens the passenger door for you, and for some reason, that makes your face heat up more than it should. For a while, he doesn’t say anything neither do you.

You keep your eyes trained on the window, stubbornly refusing to look at him. The tension sits heavy between you, thick enough to choke on.

Eventually, you sigh. "Just drop me off."

Seungcheol exhales sharply through his nose. "You’re mad."

You scoff. "I’m not mad."

You huff, annoyed at his calmness, annoyed at how he isn’t even trying to argue with you, and most of all, annoyed at how that bothers you more than it should.

After a few minutes, Seungcheol speaks again, voice low and even.

"Are you gonna tell me why you’re mad, or do I have to guess?"

You scoff. "I already told you, I’m not mad."

He hums like he doesn’t believe you. "Right. And I’m a kindergarten teacher."

You roll your eyes, ignoring the way your lips almost twitch at his sarcasm. "I’m just tired."

"Tired of what?"

"Everything."

The silence stretches again, filled only by the occasional honk of a passing car and the low music playing from his stereo. The red light ahead slows him down, and when the car comes to a stop, he finally turns his head, fully looking at you.

"You heard something, didn’t you?"

Your fingers tighten around your bag strap. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Seungcheol exhales sharply, like he’s trying to be patient. "You’ve been acting weird since this afternoon. And now you won’t even look at me."

You swallow, feeling trapped. He isn’t wrong. You had heard something—those girls talking, mentioning the rumors, the event, the model. And even though it shouldn’t have affected you, it did but there was no way in hell you were about to admit that.

"It’s nothing," you mutter. "Can we just drop it?"

Seungcheol studies you for a long moment, then makes a sound in the back of his throat—something between frustration and resignation.

"How can I make it better if you won’t tell me?"

You shift in your seat, unsure how to respond. "What?"

"You heard me," he says, sparing a quick glance at you. "If something’s bothering you, tell me. I’m not a mind reader."

"It’s not—" You start, but the words tangle in your throat.

Seungcheol sighs, running a hand through his hair before resting it back on the wheel. "Look, I don’t know what people said, but if it’s about that event, the model, or whatever rumor’s floating around, just ask me."

"Why does it matter?"

"What?"

"Why does it matter if I believe the rumors or not?" You glance away. "It’s not like we—" You stop yourself before you can finish.

The air shifts. Seungcheol doesn’t immediately respond, and when you glance back at him, his expression is unreadable. You regret speaking at all.

"It matters," he finally says, voice quieter. "Because it’s you."

Your breath catches. The words settle deep in your chest, making your heart stutter. You don’t know what to say. And he doesn’t push you to.

Later, you’re just getting your lunch ready for tomorrow to bring to work when Jihyo comes stumbling out of her room

"YOU NEED TO SEE THIS!"

"Jihyo, what—"

"Just look!" she insists, shoving the screen toward your face.

You blink, squinting as your eyes adjust to the brightness. It’s an Instagram story.

Seungcheol’s Instagram story. It’s just a simple black background with white text:

Don’t believe everything you hear. The rumors aren’t true.

That’s it. No explanation. No clarification. No dramatic reveal. Just a straight-to-the-point denial.

Jihyo, however, is losing her mind. "OUT OF CHARACTER BEHAVIOR! THE CHOI SEUNGCHEOL, POSTING ON HIS MAIN?!?"

"What—" You’re still processing.

"WHAT?!?" Jihyo gapes at you like you’ve just declared the sky isn’t blue. "BABE, THIS MAN NEVER POSTS. EVER."

"Maybe he just wanted to clear things up—" you start, but Jihyo flails.

"CLEAR THINGS UP?!?" She throws her arms up. "HE COULD’VE LET HIS AGENCY DO THAT! HE NEVER ADDRESSES RUMORS. EVER."

You chew on your bottom lip, scrolling back to look at the post again. It’s true—most celebrities would ignore baseless gossip, or let their team handle it. But Seungcheol? He chose to say something himself.

Before you go to sleep, your inner demons won and dialed his number.

The phone barely rings twice before he picks up. "You’re not mad anymore?"

"What—"

"You called me, figured that means I’m out of the woods."

You hesitate, picking at the hem of your sweater. "I wasn’t really mad…"

"No?"

"I mean—" You huff, flopping back against your pillows. "I don’t know. It was annoying, hearing people talk. Seeing things that weren’t true. It just felt… I don’t know. Weird."

Seungcheol, of all people, probably knows what it’s like to have strangers talk about him like they know every detail of his life. To have people assume things, spread stories that aren’t real. It makes your irritation feel almost… silly in comparison.

"I saw your post," you mumble after a moment. "You didn’t have to do that."

"I know."

You frown at your ceiling. "Then why?"

"Because I didn’t want you to deal with it."

Your breath catches. It’s such a simple statement, said so casually, like it wasn’t a big deal. Like he wasn’t just Seungcheol, famous racer, untouchable to the world—but someone who noticed when you were uncomfortable. Someone who actually cared.

"…Oh."

"You’re really easy to fluster."

Your face burns. "I— That’s not—*"

"Are you blushing right now?"

"I am not blushing—*"

"You totally are."

"I—" You groan, rolling onto your side. "I should hang up on you."

There’s a grin in his voice when he adds, "Goodnight, trouble."

You hang up. And then promptly shove your face into your pillow, because what the hell is he doing to you?

He laughs under his breath when you hang up. Not because he’s teasing you but mostly because he can hear how flustered you were. How you probably rolled onto your side, buried your face in your hands, maybe even kicked your legs a little in frustration.

And it’s adorable.

It’s been a long time since someone reacted to him like that. Since someone called him without any agenda, just because they wanted to talk to him. Since someone didn’t treat him like Choi Seungcheol, the racer, but just… Seungcheol.

He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling. His phone is still in his hand, your name staring up at him from the call log. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

=

You don’t know how you ended up here again.

One moment, you were just going about your usual routine, and the next, you were somehow standing in the middle of a VIP section at one of Seungcheol’s races.

This time, it’s just you. No Jihyo. No buffer. The area is packed with celebrities. All of them seem so effortlessly put together, exuding a confidence you can’t even begin to fake.

And then, suddenly a strong arm wraps around your waist. Before you even have a chance to react, you’re pulled against a firm chest, warmth pressing against your side. You don’t need to turn your head to know who it is.

Choi Seungcheol.

“W- Wait, wait… where are we going?” You struggle slightly, but he doesn’t let go.

“Somewhere else,” is all he says.

You don’t know what’s more overwhelming the way Seungcheol is leading you away, the weight of his arm still firm around your waist, or the fact that people are definitely watching. The moment he starts walking, it’s like the entire event slows down just to focus on the two of you. 

“Seungcheol,” you hiss, trying to tug yourself free, but his grip doesn’t budge.

“Just keep walking,” 

Your heart is pounding. “People are staring.”

“So?” He finally stops once you reach the edge of the track, right where his car is waiting, gleaming under the floodlights.

His expression is unreadable. “You don’t want to be seen here or something?”

Your throat dries. “I wasn’t—”

He tilts his head. Just slightly. “Why?”

You shift on your feet, feeling unbearably seen. “I don’t know.”

“You really don’t know?” The weight of his stare has your pulse stuttering. 

“I just...” you start, then hesitate, voice soft, “I don’t know how I fit in this world of yours.”

Something in his gaze shifts. His fingers flex at his side. Then, just loud enough for only you to hear, he says,

“You don’t have to. I’ll fit my world into you” 

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything else. Just looks at you for a second longer before his hands find your waist again, then he gives a light squeeze, almost reassuring. Almost like a promise. 

Before you can process it, he’s already shrugging off his racing jacket and casually throwing it around your shoulders.  He lifts a hand, already signaling to someone.  Within seconds, a staff member appears, all professional smiles. 

“I’ll take you somewhere more private to watch the race, Miss.”

Miss. Oh. You’re that girl now.

It’s the final lap when you step outside again.  

The roar of the crowd is deafening, a mix of cheers, camera flashes, and the hum of engines still cooling down. You barely register what’s happening before Seungcheol is out of the car, helmet off, hair a sweaty mess but he doesn’t even care. The moment he spots you, he reaches for you without hesitation.

A startled yelp escapes your lips as he twirls you around effortlessly, his laughter vibrates against you, chest rising and falling as he catches his breath.

"You did it," He grins, eyes gleaming under the bright pit lights.

"Of course I did. Had something good to race for."

Jeonghan, standing a few steps behind, clicks his tongue. "If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you just won more than a race, Choi"

Seungcheol only smirks, throwing an arm around your shoulders for a brief second before finally walking toward his team. And even as the celebrations begin around you, you can’t shake the feeling that, somehow, everything has changed.

You just got home after the race, staring at the ceiling trying to take everything in when suddenly

“OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!”

You whip around to see her clutching her phone like it holds the secrets of the universe. She looks at you, then back at the screen, then at you again. “Babe. You need to see this.”

“What now?”

Wordlessly, she shoves her phone toward you, and your breath catches. It’s Seungcheol’s latest Instagram post. The first picture isn’t of his trophy. It’s not of his car. It’s not even just him.

It’s you and him.

A candid shot. His arm still slung around you from earlier. The caption is simple:

"A good day."

The second photo is of his team, the third of his car, and the fourth—finally—is of him actually holding his trophy. But it’s too late. Everyone has already seen the first picture.

Jihyo is vibrating. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT THIS MEANS?!”

Seungcheol posted you. Not a soft-launch, not a story that disappears after 24 hours—an actual post. A permanent, undeniable statement.

You clutch the phone, heat creeping up your neck. “He—he’s actually insane.”

=

Weeks passed and things settled in just right, He calls or drives you around when he’s not busy. Often he finds himself taking slow walks with you. 

Meanwhile you usually text after work or just before you go to sleep. None of it feels forced, or too much too fast. Just you and him, on your own pace. 

Today Seungcheol has another race, and while the crowd is as hyped as ever, something feels slightly off.

Maybe it’s the fact that you’re not there. The race went well. Another win under his belt but as soon as the post-race interviews start, he can already tell where this is going.

“Seungcheol, congratulations on another victory! You’ve been on an amazing streak lately. How do you feel?”

He adjusts the cap on his head, exhaling slightly before offering the standard answer. “Thank you. The team’s been working hard, and I couldn’t have done it without them.”

“And, of course, I have to ask… Fans have been buzzing about your recent post. The picture from your last race—it wasn’t just of you and your car, but someone else as well. A mystery girl. Care to comment?”

Seungcheol doesn’t react immediately. He just tilts his head slightly, thinking. He could shut this down in an instant. Give them a short, clipped answer, move on.

But he doesn’t really want to.

He glances to the side, as if considering his words. “She’s someone important to me.” His tone is relaxed but firm, leaving no room for doubt.

The interviewer leans in slightly. “So, are you confirming the dating rumors?”

“I’m saying I posted what I wanted to post. People can take that however they want.”

The interviewer raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “So you’re not hiding her.”

Seungcheol gives a small smirk. “Never said I was.”

The response is vague—intentionally so—but it’s enough to send the media into a frenzy. Tthe thing is he doesn’t need to explain it to anyone else. He knows who you are to him.

Seungcheol steps off the interview platform, pulling his cap lower over his face as he walks through the paddock. The post-race adrenaline is still buzzing in his veins, but his mind is already shifting elsewhere.

Then he sees you.

For a second, he thinks he’s imagining it. You weren’t supposed to be here. You had work, a full schedule, a whole list of reasons why you couldn’t make it today.  And yet, there you are, standing just past the pit lane, scanning the crowd.

He slows his steps, blinking, wondering if maybe the exhaustion is making him see things.

But then you spot him. And suddenly, you’re moving. When you got closer, he reaches out his hand finds the curve of your waist instinctively, his grip firm, steady, as if making sure you’re actually real.

“What are you doing here?”

You hesitate for a second, slightly breathless from hurrying over. “I—”

And that’s when he notices you’re still in your work clothes. Something in his chest tightens.

“I couldn’t just not come,” you finally say, voice quieter now

Seungcheol watches you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with zero hesitation, he pulls you closer not caring who’s looking.

“You should’ve told me you were coming,” he murmurs, his hand pressing against the small of your back.

You laugh softly, like you can’t believe him. “Would you have let me surprise you if I did?”

He huffs, amused, forehead almost touching yours now. “Probably not.”

Then, just loud enough for only you to hear

“But I’m glad you did.” His grip on your waist tightens just slightly before he leans in, slow and deliberate, giving you more than enough time to pull away. But you didn’t. 

So he closes the distance. The warmth of his lips grazes your cheek but then, at the last second, he shifts ever so slightly. The corner of your lips.

The touch is featherlight, barely there, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. Enough to send a shock of awareness through your body. 

“Oops,” he murmurs, voice amused, but there’s a teasing glint in his eyes when he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze.

Your face is burning. “Oops?” you echo, scandalized, voice barely above a whisper.

Seungcheol grins, all too pleased with himself, before he tugs his cap lower over his eyes and casually tucks you further into his side.

“Too late now,” he muses, leading you away as more cameras flash in the distance. “Might as well give them a show, right?”

You have a feeling this isn’t the last time he’s going to pull something like this. You can’t help but glance over your shoulder, the flashes still going off, the murmurs growing louder.

“Cheol,” you hiss, tugging lightly at his hold. “You do realize what you just did, right?”

He doesn’t even slow down. If anything, his grip tightens slightly, like he’s making sure you don’t slip away. “Yeah,” he says, entirely unfazed. “What about it?”

You gawk at him. “You kissed me.”

He laughs. A real, genuine laugh, not the teasing one he usually gives you. He tugs his cap lower again before guiding you around a corner, finally stepping out of the media’s direct line of sight.

“You’re acting like it’s a bad thing,” he muses.

You scowl. “I’m acting like someone who wasn’t expecting that in front of hundreds of people.”

His steps slow, his teasing smirk softening into something unreadable. “Would it have been different if we were alone?”

Your breath catches. He doesn’t let you answer right away, though, because suddenly, the door to the team’s private area swings open, revealing Jeonghan leaning lazily against the frame, arms crossed.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls, eyes flicking between you and Seungcheol. “The internet is about to explode, you know that?”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. Seungcheol, however, just sighs, like he knew this was coming.

=

It had been a few days since The Kiss—as Jihyo so dramatically called it—and the media was still buzzing. Your social media (which you barely used) had gained a suspicious number of new followers, and even your coworkers had started looking at you differently.

But the strangest part? Even the kids were catching on.

“What are you doing here?” you mumble the moment you see him in the lobby of your work

“Bringing lunch.”

You stared at the containers. “For… me?”

“For everyone,” he corrected, smirking. “Figured your kids might like a treat. And you’ve been too busy to eat properly, haven’t you?”

Your coworker let out a dramatic sigh. “Where do I sign up for a man like this?”

You ignored them, still trying to process the fact that Choi Seungcheol, famous race car driver, was standing in your workplace like this was a totally normal thing to do.

Meanwhile, one of the kids had wandered in, stopping short when they saw Seungcheol. Their mouth fell open.

“OH MY GOSH,” they shrieked, running back out. “GUYS, HE’S REALLY HERE!”

Within seconds, a stampede of tiny humans came rushing in, swarming around Seungcheol with wide eyes and excited whispers. Seungcheol crouched down, meeting them at eye level. “You must be her students,” he said with a grin.

The kids giggled. One particularly bold little girl tugged at his sleeve. “Are you her boyfriend?”

Seungcheol just laughed, ruffling the nearest kid’s hair before handing you one of the food containers. “Eat,” he said, his voice softer. “You’ll need the energy for all the explaining you’re about to do.”

Later you sighed as you slid into the passenger seat, tossing your bag onto your lap. Seungcheol was already watching you, a smug little grin playing on his lips as he leaned against the steering wheel. He was waiting.

“…Not a word,” you muttered, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Oh? Nothing to say? Not even a thank you for the food?”

You exhaled through your nose, arms crossed. “Thank you. Now drive.”

He didn’t move, still looking way too pleased with himself. “So… ‘Are you her boyfriend?’” he mimicked in a high-pitched voice, clearly enjoying himself. “That was a good one.”

You, on the other hand, seethed in silence. Then, before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out.

“You didn’t answer though.”

“Hm?”

“When they asked if you were my boyfriend,” you clarified, staring out the window. “You didn’t really answer.”

“Does it bother you?”

You hesitated. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

You felt his gaze shift to you for a split second before turning back to the road. He was so annoyingly calm, like he wasn’t the least bit fazed. Meanwhile, you were seconds away from combusting.

“It’s just—” You struggled to find the right words. “You could’ve denied it outright.”

Seungcheol made a soft hum, like he was thinking.

“Could’ve,” he admitted. “Didn’t feel like it.”

You turned to him, eyebrows furrowed. “And why not?”

This time, he did glance at you, his expression unreadable. “What if I didn’t want to?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “You’re cute when you’re worked up.”

“Choi Seungcheol.”

At that, he sighed, but there was amusement in his eyes when he glanced at you. “I just meant exactly what I said.”

“That you didn’t want to deny it?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s—” You fumbled for words. “That’s not an answer.”

He let go of the wheel with one hand to shift gears as he smoothly changed lanes. “It’s an answer.”

“No, it’s not. It’s cryptic and vague and you’re doing it on purpose.”

He chuckled again, but this time, when he spoke, his voice was softer. “You really don’t get it?”

You hesitated, the way he was looking at you making you squirm. “Get what?”

Seungcheol was quiet for a moment, eyes focused on the road. Then, after a beat, he exhaled sharply.

“I like you.”

Your brain short-circuited.

“Wait—” Your head snapped to him, eyes wide. “You—what?”

He was still looking ahead, but you could see the small smirk on his lips. “Did I stutter?”

You were reeling. “But—you never—”

“I thought it was obvious.”

“It was not.”

“I kissed you infront of hundreds of viewers, you’re the first face they see the moment they look up my profile and I’m not being obvious?” he chuckles 

You stared at him, absolutely at a loss for words. He liked you? Seungcheol—the ridiculously famous racer, the one who was so effortlessly confident, the one who had somehow made a place in your life before you even realized—he liked you?

“Wha—how—why??”

Seungcheol let out a small laugh, glancing at you before turning back to the road “Are you asking me how feelings work?”

“Yes! No! I don’t know!” You were spiraling. “You’re—you’re you! And I’m just me—how does that even make sense?”

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow. “You think it doesn’t make sense?”

You groaned, sinking into your seat. “I mean, you’re a famous racer, Cheol. You could have anyone.”

“Could doesn’t mean want,” he said simply. “I want you.”

You were malfunctioning.

Seungcheol glanced at you again, smirking at your stunned expression. “That enough of an answer for you?”

You stared at him, mouth opening and closing uselessly.

Seungcheol wanted you.

There was no teasing in his voice this time, no cryptic answers or vague implications. Just a clear, straightforward confession that had your brain struggling to keep up.

“I—” Your voice cracked, and you immediately shut your mouth.

Seungcheol chuckled. “That’s a first. You’re speechless.”

“I hate you,” you muttered, pressing your hands over your face.

He laughed, clearly thoroughly entertained by your reaction. “No, you don’t.”

=

On weekdays, you were just you. Going to work, wrangling kids, taking your usual walks at night. But on weekends? That was a whole different story.

It was like you were living a double life. One moment, you were worrying about snack schedules and nap times, and the next, you were standing in the middle of a race pit, surrounded by roaring engines and a team that now knew you by name.

Like today.

“Here comes our good luck charm,” one of the team members called out when they spotted you walking in.

“I don’t know where you guys got that idea from.”

Jeonghan, who had been leaning against the car with his arms crossed, smirked. “Maybe because every race he’s had since meeting you, he’s won?”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your face warmed. “Pretty sure that’s because he’s good at what he does, not because I’m standing here.”

Seungcheol appeared then, casually throwing an arm over your shoulders as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Don’t be modest. You are my good luck charm.”

And just like that, your heart did an embarrassing little flip. Seungcheol’s hand is warm in yours as he leads you through the bustling pit lane, it all fades into nothing when he turns to look at you.

That boyish, handsome smile of his appears, the one that makes your heart stumble over itself. “Stay here, okay?” he says, squeezing your fingers gently.

You nod, swallowing. “Yeah, okay.”

His gaze lingers, scanning your face like he’s committing every detail to memory before a race. “You good?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” He grins, lifting your joined hands just slightly before finally letting go, heading toward his car. And even as he walks away, helmet in hand, you can still feel the warmth of his touch lingering against your skin.

“Cute,” Jeonghan drawls, suddenly appearing beside you like he always does

You nearly jump out of your skin. “God, can you not?”

He smirks, arms crossed as he watches Seungcheol get into his car. “I could, but where’s the fun in that?”

Jeonghan hums, tilting his head. “You know, I’ve never seen him like this before.”

You glance at him. “Like what?”

“You didn’t see him before you got here—he was all serious, barely speaking. But then he saw you, and suddenly, bam, he’s smiling like an idiot and holding your hand in front of the whole team.”

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he adds, “I give it two more races before he fully caves.”

You frown. “Caves?”

“Into admitting he’s in love with you.”

Seungcheol, who had been adjusting his gloves and getting ready to step into his car, catches your gaze just before ducking inside. And then—he winks.

Jeonghan lets out a low whistle beside you. “Oh, never mind. I take it back. I said two races, but at this rate?” He gestures vaguely toward Seungcheol, who is now in his car, looking entirely too smug. 

“I’d give him until later.”

After the race, which he won again, he still insisted to drive you home despite saying you can just catch the bus since he must be tired. 

He parked the car but you notice the street is a little farther from your building. You step out a little confused but taking his hand anyway. His palm is warm against yours, steady and sure, and you let him guide you down the quiet street.

“Where are we going?”

Seungcheol doesn’t answer right away, just keeps walking, his fingers absentmindedly squeezing yours like he’s grounding himself. Then he stops, looking around.

It takes you a second to realize where you are. The dim glow of a streetlamp flickers slightly, casting long shadows over the pavement. It looks different now—quieter, less chaotic—but you recognize it immediately.

“This is where—”

“Where I almost ran you over,” Seungcheol finishes, turning to you with a small smile. “Yeah.”

“Why… are we here?”

His gaze flickers to the ground before meeting yours again. “I don’t know, I just—after the race, I kept thinking about how everything started. And I ended up driving here.”

“You almost hit me with your car,” you point out, trying to lighten the mood, even though something about the moment feels heavier than that.

Seungcheol huffs a small laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. Not exactly the best first impression.”

“And yet here I am, getting into your car willingly.”

“Here you are.”

A beat of silence passes between you, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air. You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, you’re stepping closer. The streetlamp flickers again, casting a warm glow over his face. His eyes search yours, as if waiting for something. 

And then, in the place where you first met, where he almost ran you over, Seungcheol lifts a hand to your cheek, his touch hesitant but deliberate. His fingers brush against your jaw, his touch featherlight, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He leans in slow, giving you every chance to pull away. But you don’t.

And then, finally, finally, his lips meet yours.

It’s soft at first, tentative, like he’s testing the waters. But when you don’t push him away, when you let out a quiet breath against his mouth, he presses in a little more. It’s warm, gentle.

He kisses you like he’s been waiting. Like he’s been wanting to for a while now. Your hands grip his jacket instinctively, grounding yourself as your knees feel dangerously weak. 

When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours. His thumb strokes your cheek, and he exhales a soft laugh.Seungcheol chuckles, tilting his head slightly so he can press a quick kiss to the corner of your lips, then another, as if he can’t help himself.

“Were you mad at me when we first met?” you ask him jokingly

“No”

“Liar,” you tell him

Seungcheol laughs, the deep, rich sound vibrating through his chest. His arms are still loosely wrapped around you, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your waist.

“Annoyed?” he repeats, tilting his head slightly. “Maybe a little.”

You scoff, pushing at his chest lightly, but he doesn’t budge. “See! I knew it.”

He smirks, eyes glinting under the streetlights. “But I was mostly surprised. You just walked off without a care in the world after almost getting run over.”

“What was I supposed to do? Stand there and cry?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “No, but maybe at least look back? Maybe acknowledge the handsome guy who almost ended your life?”

You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch. “Handsome is subjective.”

He gasps dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “That hurts.”

You laugh, shaking your head, and Seungcheol watches you, his smile softer now. His fingers brush against yours before he intertwines them together, his grip warm and steady.

“I wasn’t annoyed at you,” he says after a moment, his voice quieter, more thoughtful. “But you did leave an impression.”

“Oh?”

He nods, a teasing smile playing at his lips. “Yeah. I don’t normally go around remembering people who almost get hit by my car.”

“Well,” you say, squeezing his hand. “Thanks for not running me over, I guess.”

“Anytime.”

Seungcheol presses a lingering kiss to the top of your head before simply continuing to walk, your hand still firmly in his. He doesn’t say much, but he doesn’t need to. His grip on your hand is enough. 

The way he slows his pace to match yours, the way he swings your hands slightly between you casual, effortless, like this has been a habit for years.

You glance up at him. “You do this often?”

He hums, tilting his head toward you. “Do what?”

“Take late-night walks,” you say. “You seem… natural at this.”

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Not really. Usually too exhausted after training or races.”

“So why are you doing it now?”

He squeezes your hand lightly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Because you like them.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. You don’t know how to respond to that. 

How do you respond when someone like Seungcheol, who has an entire world waiting on him, cheering for him, chasing after him, chooses to slow down just to walk with you?

You tug on his hand, making him stop mid-step. He blinks at you, a little confused but patient, his thumb still brushing against your skin.

“What?” 

“You’re…” You hesitate, suddenly shy. “You’re really unfair.”

His brows furrow. “Huh?”

You huff, letting go of his hand to cross your arms instead. “You just—” You motion vaguely toward him. “You do these things, say these things, and then expect me to just… hust be normal about it?”

You groan, turning your face away, but he just leans in, amused.

“You’re blushing,” he teases, voice low, warm.

“Shut up,” you mumble. You bite your lip to stop the smile threatening to form, but Seungcheol sees it anyway.

“This,” he murmurs, voice quieter now. “This is worth more than any trophy.” 

He remembers the first night. The near collision, the way you glared at him, completely unafraid. The way he should have just driven off but instead found himself watching you walk away, something inexplicable settling in his chest.

Then came the second meeting. The bar, the stranger who had gotten a little too close, and the way he stood up without thinking. He hadn’t even known why he did it then.

And then, the countless moments after. The dinner where you sat across from him, red-faced and shy but undeniably present in a way no one else was. The quiet phone calls, the late-night walks. The race where he had looked up into the stands and seen you there, fidgeting in your sundress, not quite used to this world of his but still showing up.

He remembers the moment it hit him. 

The night he couldn’t stop thinking about you. When he realized it wasn’t just amusement. It was something deeper, something he couldn’t quite name but felt all the same. 

And fate, as if conspiring against him, kept bringing you back.  

Again and again, until there was no denying it.

“You were never supposed to happen to me. I didn’t think I had time for this. For… you. But somehow, no matter what I did, I kept finding you.”

Your breath catches, lips parting in surprise. You don’t know what to say, but maybe you don’t have to because Seungcheol is already stepping closer, already looking at you like you’re the finish line he’s been chasing all along.

Seungcheol has spent his entire life making calculated moves. On the track, in his career, in the way he approaches every decision with precision and control. He’s built his success on strategy, on knowing exactly when to push forward and when to hold back.

And yet, here he is, standing on the very street where fate first threw you into his path, admitting defeat not in the way he ever expected, but in the way that matters most.

Because for all his careful planning, he never planned for you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever let anything just… happen to me before,”

“And now?”

His lips curve, not quite a smirk, not quite a smile—something softer, something unguarded. “Now, I think I want to see where this takes me.”

The weight of his words settles between you, heavy with meaning. He, a man who has always dictated his own path, is choosing to let fate take the wheel.

And as he pulls you closer, the city moving around you, the distant hum of life filling the air, you realize—maybe this was always where you were meant to end up.

[revelboo]

Heyo!

I just binge-read all 77 chapters of Everything Is Alright on AO3 (PHENOMENAL WRITING BTW!!) and while looking for more Starscream/reader here on Tumblr, I found your blog with the master post linking to the Tumblr version of the same fic. However, when I checked it out, I noticed there was some stuff in the first chapter here that wasn't in the first chapter on AO3.

I also noticed that the last update on AO3 was around the same time as the first full chapter post on Tumblr.

So I'm curious: is the Tumblr version of Everything Is Alright a more fleshed out continuity of the AO3 version?

I will 100% be devouring it if that's the case bc I genuinely think it's my favorite Starscream/reader I've read.

I’m more active over here and I tend to forget the AO3, honestly. It mostly serves as my backup

Everything Is Alright Pt 140

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Watching Starscream flare his wings aggressively when Soundwave tries to reach for you, and the way you frown up at the Seeker, Megatron vents tiredly. Still unsure how exactly he got roped into whatever this nonsense is. Why he hadn’t been able to just watch you die in his hands. True, he enjoys your quick temper and indignation that seems reserved for only him. Your fire and that you feel comfortable enough to argue with him when most of his followers simply agree with him, never bothering to question him to his face. Well, except for Starscream’s muttered snark when the Seeker thinks he can’t hear him.

• Servos flexing, Soundwave grabs Starscream by the wrist, fully aware of the Seeker’s petty intention to keep you away from him just because he’s frustrated that you’re sparked and it’s not his. “No,” he growls, field flaring aggressively and the Seeker hesitates. And you shudder like you can feel it brushing against you, too. Giving him pause before he reaches out with his other hand to brush a servo against your cheek. Searching and finding your own weak field. How had he not noticed it before? Or is it because of the spark bond? The spark itself?

• Aware of them both, it’s like you can feel Starscream and Soundwave’s annoyance crackling over you, making your skin prickle. Making you uneasy. And Soundwave’s head tips, watching as you lay a hand on his servo. He knows you can feel whatever this is. You’re sure of it. Have no idea what this new alien weirdness is, but it’s making you oddly anxious and then just like that, Soundwave is calm and it’s not so bad. No longer overwhelmed by them. “What is that?”

• “EM field,” Soundwave murmurs and Starscream stiffens. Hadn’t realized you could pick up on that and he grimaces realizing you can definitely feel his hostility toward Soundwave if you can. Forcing it down, he vents softly and you look up at him, offering him a little smile. “Possibly from the excess bonds or the new spark,” Soundwave adds, servo sliding lazily against your cheek. Because they’re in uncharted territory, figuring things out by trial and error. Wings flaring out slightly when Megatron wanders closer to study you, your shoulders hunch as his field becomes anxious at the warlord’s nearness to you.

• Smiling lazily down at you as your expression becomes wary, Megatron reaches to pick you up and both of your other mates stiffen. Starscream hissing at him, but not making a move to try and take you back, probably afraid of accidentally hurting you. “Now that I’m sure I can’t accidentally spark you, I think I should claim what’s mine,” he growls, enjoying the way the Seeker bares his denta. “After all, you’re my mate, too.” Turning and letting himself out of the habsuite to head toward his own, he rumbles a laugh as you scowl up at him. ‘You just can’t help tormenting him, can you?’ You ask meaning Starscream and he rubs a servo against your jaw. “Trust me, pet. He deserves much worse.”

Previous

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[lebbys-world]

Secrets, Soba, & Smiles

Todoroki x gn!reader; teenagers in love, fluff, reader gets caught off guard a bit

notes: thanks for all the love on my last post :) im glad that so many people enjoyed my writing !! the kitchen scene is very artem from tot coded, which makes sense bc ive been obsessed with that game recently. anyways, hope you enjoy !! <3

You peered down the hall, checking to make sure it was clear, before walking towards the elevator.

The soft hum of the door opening led you to walk inside, pressing the button for the fifth floor.

You looked down at your phone to check the time, quickly noticing you’d received a follow up text from your boyfriend.

Before leaving your dorm, you had sent him a message letting him know you were about to be on your way up. 

You smiled to yourself as the elevator made its way up the floors, shooting him back a quick reply.

More often than not, you found yourselves having these late-night dorm dates as a means to compensate for the lack of public relationship.

Throughout the school day, you two were just seen as close friends, allowing any suspicions to just be laughed off. After all, there was no sense in blatantly lying about your relationship to your friends.

But if you both feigned ignorance, it managed to keep their suspicions at bay. 

With all earnest, you weren't necessarily trying keeping your relationship with the icy-hot boy a secret from your peers.

You never had concern for them finding out - albeit the barrage of questions and attention may be a bit overwhelming.

If anything, the concern you had was for the general public finding out that two rising heroes had feelings for one another.

You feared the worst case scenario: a villain using your adoration for each other as a weapon.

Maybe you were overreacting, but the nightmare situation it was, you wanted to prevent it in any way you could. So, as a safeguard, the both of you had agreed to just keep things to yourself.

This agreement worked well anyways, as you and Todoroki settled into the awkward ins-and-outs of first time teenage love.

So, yes, for now, things were okay being a sort of ‘secret’.

It was a secret for you two to share.

You were his, and he was yours.

The elevator door opened once more as you reached the fifth floor, stepping out into a familiar, yet different, hallway.

You made your way to your boyfriend’s room, before giving a gentle knock on the door.

Soon enough, the doorknob turned, the door creaked open, and heterochronic eyes met your own. 

You laughed to yourself before commenting, “well, I made it here in one piece.”

He gave you a soft smile back, “yeah, you did.”

That was the smile that always managed to killed you.

A smile that you never saw him quite show to anyone but you.

The way his lips turned in adoration, a genuine love and joy meeting his face. His eyes would crease with that smile, and, every time, without fault, you’d melt at that smile.

It was a smile that felt like it was only for you.

Interrupting your star-struck daze, Todoroki tilted his head.

“I meant to tell you before you got here, but I still wanted to grab some snacks from the common room.”

You stood up straight, pulling yourself back together.

“Oh, I could’ve just picked them up on the way.”

“It’s not a problem; I’ll just go now. You can set your stuff down. I'll be back shortly."

He started walking past you to begin his quick mission, when you followed on his heels. 

“I’ll come with you! Two people are better than one!”

He paused, gave a nod of appreciation, and the two of you carried on towards the main floor.

The short trip there was spent debating what snacks would be best for this late night excursion, with you insisting that your favorite food was the only way to go.

By the time you'd made it to the kitchen, Todoroki had been pleading his case for soba - per usual.

“Look,” he said, now pointing to a something sat on the shelf of the pantry. “They still have some left over. We could probably make two servings.”

He met your eyes with diligence, looking like a young child begging for a toy at the store.

As much as your favorite snack was calling your name, you thought to yourself that maybe some cold soba would be nice as well. 

“Fine, but I’m making the sauce.” You sighed, accepting his pleas. I mean, how could you not when he had given you such a cute look?

He smiled, his invisible tail practically wagging as he pulled out a pot and began to fill it with water. 

Nearby, you opened up the fridge and pulled out a few ingredients to start making into a light sauce.

You swiftly put on an apron, and started mixing things together before feeling complete with your makeshift recipe.

You took a spoon and dipped it in, giving it a taste. Having it meet your own liking, you called your boyfriend over, making sure it would suit his taste as well.

Continuing to stir, you thought to yourself how something about this unplanned cooking trip had just felt so right

It was almost as if you two were a married couple, working on making dinner together after a long day of work.

The idea made you blush.

Deep inside, these calm nights were the kind you hoped the future would bring many more of.

You were about to turn around and call to him again when you were suddenly met with two arms wrapped around your waist.

You let out a small gasp of surprise as Todoroki took the spoon from your hand, following through on your request and trying the dipping sauce you had made.

He hummed a tone of satisfaction and let his head rest atop your shoulder. 

“It’s really good, Y/N. Thank you, for your help.”

At that moment, you thanked God that your boyfriend couldn't see your overwhelmingly red face.

You doubt you would’ve even been flustered if Todoroki wouldn’t have pulled that hugging-you-from-behind cliché.

I mean, heck, he probably didn't even realize he was doing something that even could catch you so off guard.

Your boyfriend probably just thought he was hugging you, sharing his adoration for your cooking and determination.

And here you were, heart going overdrive all over his simple motions.

Having felt your heart rate spike, he let go after a moment, returning back to the care of draining the pot of soba. 

You took a moment and collected yourself a bit, finally giving a delayed reply:

“Yeah, anytime, Sho. It’s what I’m here for.”

He looked at you again, turning his gaze away from the sink, and gave you that melting smile of his.

That smile that makes you feel like everything in the world is okay, even if just in this moment.

Somehow that smile managed to calm your panicked heart, reminding you to take this all one step at a time.

You returned his smile with your own. A smile of your own that you hoped he admired just as much as you did his.

“…”

“...SHOTO, THE SOBA-”

all fictional works are for entertainment purposes only. all rights to characters, media, references, and other third party materials belong to their respective owners. do not repurpose, modify, copy, or repost my work to other sites without permission. ©lebbys-world 2024.

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[tojjist]

♯♯ birthday special - t. fushiguro

a/n: i didn't do anything for the holiday season bc i barely had time :( but i still wanted to do summ for his birthday soo.

warnings: like one cuss. completely fulff. not proof read! sunshine x grumpy

toji fushiguro hates you. toji fushiguro despises you for all you are; kind, loving, sweet, and damn perfect.

it’s almost insulting to him, really. the way you mock him with your soft little smile, patronizing him with your kindness.

he hated how complicated you are. he could never understand your motives. why would you treat him like that? knowing where he came from and what his past looked like. why do you stick around when he offers next to nothing? he couldn’t find any proof of an ulterior motive yet he couldn’t accept the simple reality of you actually wanting to be around him.

but toji hated one thing above all; how you make him feel. he doesn’t get the way his chest clouds and breath tightens whenever your skin comes in contact with his. his tongue goes paralyzed when you smile his way, eyes unmoving from your face when you scoff a small chuckle at whatever dumb shit he said. he can’t even remember what made you laugh but he gets this overwhelming urge to do it again.

he grows vulnerable, craving your touch when you’re not around. he’s soon hyper aware of his attachment to you. but toji is a smart man, and he knows he can’t do anything about the situation he found himself entangled in.

when he’s away, a single hour could feel like a whole eternity. and he can’t wait to be back home. home where you’re waiting. home where he belongs.

it doesn’t take long for him to grow accustomed to the physical proximity of you. the feel of you becomes a soothing balm, gently brushing away all his worries even if only temporarily.

toji fushiguro hates you. he hates how his heart skips a beat whenever his nose picks up on your sweet scent. he hates how the sound of your voice downright puts his entire world on pause, stopping to hear every little word that leaves your lips. from mumbles when you’re half-asleep to your little rants about your day or the new show you’ve been watching.

toji fushiguro hates how he’s capable of so little. he can’t give you the world. he can’t give you the dream life. he can’t give you a luxurious house. he can’t give you fancy dates or decent holiday getaways. heck, sometimes he can’t give you even time.

that’s why he makes sure to spend every minute he could with you, basking in the haven you created for him.

he tells himself he’s doing it all for himself. he says he needs a rest and just keeps you around because it’s easier than ‘looking for another girl’. toji tries to convince himself that it’s temporary, that you’re just willing to stick around and that he’d leave sooner than later. he says he’s selfish and doing it all for himself.

but it’s clear as day when his arms cling to you first thing in the morning, searching for your warmth despite the duvet he had pushed away. it’s obvious in the way he caresses your hair while you pretend to be asleep. occasionally he’d let his lips find the crown of your head, greeting your hair with soft kisses.

toji fushiguro hates you. he hates when you told him that you loved him, in his car on some tuesday night when he took you out for a ride late at night even though he needed to sleep.

toji fushiguro hates how your face lit up when he brought some flowers home with him,mumbling something along the lines of “the vase been empty for too fucking long”. but there was no vase. and he only realized when he got up at night to get some water, spotting the pretty flowers set in a plastic water jug.

toji fushiguro hates his new life. he hates how different he’s become. the hostile menace has become a quiet man, following behind you everywhere you go as if he were your personal gorilla. toji fushiguro hates how much life mattered now. toji fushiguro hates the responsibility he feels.

he says it’s restricting, suffocating even. he clicks his tongue in annoyance when he sees the time. it’s past dinner time and he needs to be home to not keep you waiting. he’s frustrated at himself when he finds you plopped on the couch, face peaceful while you presumably have fallen asleep as you awaited his return. he feels guilt gnawing at him when he sees the food you’ve made, having not eaten so he wouldn’t have dinner alone.

you’re too much for him. and while he’d felt like he owes you at some point, sick of your little favors and stupid sweet words, toji soon realizes this life is his. it was by choice that he let you into his life, slowly rearranging the blocks of his reality. you broke and rebuild, fixing a man who believed he was long beyond repair.

toji fushiguro hates you. toji fushiguro despises you for all you are, kind, loving, sweet, and painfully his.

somewhere along the way toji has accepted all that he feels. falling in love isn’t shameful. he’s become a fool but he thinks it’s worth it long as you’ve the one who’s molded him into this shape.

[r4cc0on-in-tr4shcan]

Caseoh x reader (platonic maybe romantic????) I thought of instead of sleeping

context: you are another popular streamer thats good friends with Case, but recently you got into some "beef" with Case that was just a joke, which chat tells you all types of insults about you and even telling you to kys and Case has to interveine (i dont think I spelled that right. Keepin' it gender neutral. maybe a bit of romance at the end if you squint and tilt your head. MAY OR MAY BE CRINGE. DID NOT PROOF READ)

It was really stupid but it started when you made a comment while playing a game on horror game on stream and the monster was... odd looking, to say the least. You jokingly said: "Chat, look! It's Case!" You say looking at a very divided chat. One part of chat is laughing about it, another part is saying that it's not funny and defending Case, and the rest of chat just start saying hella mean and rude comments about you. You try to ignore the hateful comments for now but that was hard to do when that was the majority of the chat. You then say, after a few minutes "I'm joking, I'm joking." You genuinly meant it, but chat was not buying it. The chat became more hateful, some people even saying to kill yourself. You didn't know what to do. You couldn't end stream because people will think your trying to run from the situation and the hate, you just know that you have to stop the "drama" as soon as possible. "Chat, I was joking. Me and Case joke like that all the time, even when we stream together! Me or him would say a joke like that and we'd both laugh, we've both said that we're fine with the jokes." You say a little bit before ending stream. You just wanted to cry. You hated shit like this, everyone just swarming you, not letting you breathe. You felt overwhelmed. Case started streaming an hour and a half after you ended stream. You heard the discord notification from his dicord server saying he was live. You open up his stream, to distract yourself from just having a meltdown, and he starts with his usual "WHAT'S GOOD CHAT?!" making a little smile appear on your face until it immediately drops when you see 3/4 of the chat starts asking about the "drama" and what you said about him. Case obviously saw those messages so he had to respond. "Oh here we go... Chat, imma be real with yall, it ain't even drama, yall was being dramatic." He pauses, reading chat for a second before continuing, "Yall was being dramatic over nun'." Like magic, his whole chat was saying "RIGHT", "FR", "W" as if someone those people typing those things weren't the same exact people that told you those things about your appearance and to kill yourself. Case continues, "Nah, chat, there's probably some people in this stream right now that said all'at stuff to them." His mom even pinned a message in chat saying "Even if it was something worse no one should tell anyone those things!!" which Case responds with a, "Yeah. It was just a joke and yall had to do all'at. They ain't even done nun', they made a joke and yall overreacted." As you watched you couldn't help but tear up from the words. The feeling of having someone actually care about your mental health and well being, it overwhelmed you with happiness and he didn't make it a big deal, he just talked about it and left the topic. You texted him saying "Thanks Case that was really nice of you, I owe you one" Case then checks his phone "OO someone textin' me!" and when he reads it he has a huge, stupid grin on his face as he texts back "No problem, anything for you" (DID NOT PROOF-READ. Not sure if it's accurate but I tried! 👻 not sure how to feel about this one buttttt yeah👍I was just bored.) (ALSO PLEASE ASK BC I GOT DONT GOT NUN TO DO AND I WANNA WRITE)

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

"obstinate, headstrong girl" part 2 - aaron hotchner x fem!reader

read part 1 here

wc: 3000

cw: mentions of food and alcohol! enemies to lovers! poorly researched medical information lmao i am a liberal arts girly i just need it for the plot. typical bau meddling, reader is lowkey a bully but dw bc hotch is still a little bitch, part 3 to come c: 

a/n big fat thank you to my bestie @cerisereids for all her help workshopping / brainstorming with me! i also got the BEAUTIFUL dividers from the immensely talented @saradika-graphics

You. 

With your red dress and your attitude, throwing back amaretto sours like they’re tequila shots - who gets drunk on amaretto sours? They’re basically safe to drink while pregnant. To be fair, you didn’t get sloppy, or even really that drunk. By the end of the night, your eyes appeared just a bit heavy, like someone had tied miniature weights to your eyelashes. 

Your eyelashes. Aaron had never found eyelashes, of all things, to be attractive, but here he is, in the middle of a work day with a report half-finished (and half-assed, at that), and he’s thinking about your eyelashes. 

He’s thought of basically every part of you already today. Your knees, your dress, what’s underneath it. You have been sucking him into a black hole all day long, and he’s to the point where he’s halfway wishing for a serial killer so he can focus on something else. 

He plows his hand through his dark hair, shaking off the overwhelming thoughts of you. He checks the silver Rolex on his wrist. It’s nearly time to leave. Aaron doesn’t usually do this, but he decides to leave this report for tomorrow, when he can look at the letters on the page and not see your face, hear your voice. 

Just as he starts packing up, there’s a knock on his open office door. Aaron’s dark eyes flicker up to see Garcia standing in the doorway, Morgan’s tall frame looming behind her. “Hotch, you got anything going on tonight?” 

Aaron shakes his head. For once, he actually doesn’t. “Jack’s at a sleepover,” he says. “What’s up?” 

“We’re taking Spence and Jacqueline to this nighttime vendor market thingy,” Penelope says, scrunching her nose up with a smile. “You remember Jacqueline?” 

It’s been a week since Derek’s birthday, when Jacqueline and Spencer were introduced. More relevantly, since Aaron laid eyes on you. “I remember.” 

“You wanna come with us?” Penelope asks with bright eyes. Aaron opens his mouth the decline almost immediately, but Penelope beats him to it. “Y/N’s not coming.” 

Aaron arches a brow. “What makes you think I care if Y/N’s coming or not?” he asks. 

“Oh, c’mon, Hotch,” Derek puts all his weight on the doorjamb. “We saw you staring at her at my birthday. It’s about time you moved on from Haley, any-”

“If I say I’ll come out, will you stop talking?” Aaron cuts him off, grabbing his briefcase. 

Derek ponders this for a second, even looks to Penelope as if to ask permission. He shrugs his shoulders in what Aaron suspects will be the first little white lie of the evening. “Yeah.” 

How anyone was able to sprain their ankle while shopping for books is beyond you. Leave it to Jacqueline, the wide-eyed, quirkily clumsy ingénue of her very own romantic comedy, to trip over a curb while gazing starry-eyed at the oh-so dreamy Dr. Reid. She called you from the emergency room with a shrill panic lining her voice, and you immediately leapt up from the couch. You didn’t even bother pausing your show on the TV, just slid some shoes on, grabbed your bag, and bolted out the door. 

You’re taking extra long strides, your flip-flops smacking obnoxiously against the linoleum tiles of the hospital floor. When you spot Jacqueline sitting up in the bed, still in her own clothes, you feel instant relief. At least she’s not panicking anymore. Spencer sits diligently by her side, fidgeting with the edges of the sheets. Jacqueline’s right leg is elevated atop several pillows, with a meek smile on her face once her eyes meet yours. 

“Spencer, you’re supposed to keep an eye on her at all times,” you joke with a weak laugh, sighing as you plop down in the empty chair beside Spencer’s. 

“She saw something shiny and wandered off,” Spencer shrugs, and Jacqueline glares at the both of you. 

“This whole talking about me like I’m not here, thing? Not my favorite,” she deadpans. There’s the Jacqueline you know and love. In crowded social settings, she can be reclusive and difficult to open up. But with only a few people around - especially people she’s comfortable around - Jacqueline is a completely different person. 

You’re glad she feels comfortable around Spencer after just a week of knowing him. They’re not even officially dating, per se, but tonight they went out with Penelope and Derek to test the waters. You think it’s cute - like two fifth-graders on a chaperoned outing to the movies, with their parents sitting a row behind them. 

You were invited to tag along, but you didn’t want to be the fifth wheel. You also were having a really long, insufferable week, and you simply needed some recharge time. So you politely declined. 

“Oh, shush, you’ve got bigger fish to fry,” you tell Jacqueline playfully, eyes darting down to her elevated foot. “So, what’s the damage?” 

“Sprained ankle, possibly fractured,” Spencer rattles off. “Usually an x-ray isn’t required, but since Jacqueline’s having pain in her malleolar zone - that is, the top part of the ankle that connects to the tibia - the doctor ordered one. We’re waiting on the results to come back, but I think they’ll just put her in a brace for a few weeks. Statistically speaking, only about 15% of sprained ankles result in significant bone fractures.” 

You release an awkward little chuckle, very nearly overwhelmed by the amount of information Spencer just dumped on you. Jacqueline shrugs her shoulders a little, like this is just how he is, and I love it. 

You blink a few times as you absorb all of Spencer’s ramblings. “So.. she’s gonna be fine?” 

“Yeah, she’ll be fine,” Spencer cracks a smile, and his thumb brushes affectionately over the top of Jacqueline’s hand. Your friend blushes furiously, ever-so-clearly under the fluorescent lighting. 

“So what exactly happened?” You ask. 

Before either of them get to answer, imposing footsteps grow louder, and you hear a familiar voice say, “Okay, coffee acquired.”

Smooth like the neat whiskey he was throwing back the night you met him, Aaron’s voice drags down your spine. Your belly does acrobatic flips. You visibly tense up for a second before turning around to see Aaron with a cardboard drink carrier in his hand containing three to-go cups of coffee. 

“Oh, hi, Y/N. When did you get here?” Aaron’s voice goes flat, and he meets your eyes civilly. 

“While you were getting coffee, I presume,” you deadpan, and you swear you see one of those imposing brown eyes twitch. 

“Right,” Aaron hands Jacqueline her coffee, and then has to lean over you so he can give Spencer his. You catch whiffs of pine and espresso and dark leather. His chest is basically in your face for a solid three seconds. God, he’s broad. He’s also in a suit, save for the jacket and tie, and your eyes catch the crinkly lines in his white dress shirt, no longer crisp from being worn all day. They look like rivers on a map. “Well, I guess I’ll be going. Glad you’re okay, Jacqueline, that was quite the fall.” 

“Oh, no, Aaron, you don’t have to go!” Jacqueline pipes up, holding her coffee with two hands. “I mean, only if you need to, but, we’re still waiting for my X-ray to come back, and I know I’d love the company.” 

You look at Jacqueline with a bewildered expression. “I mean, I’d love the company of all of you,” Jacqueline corrects, her cheeks pinkening. 

You cross your ankles, suddenly aware that you’re in your loungewear - beige linen shorts and a blue Georgetown sweatshirt - and your hair sits in a haphazard knot on top of your head. You have to remind yourself that you don’t care. That Aaron Hotchner’s opinion of you does not matter. 

Aaron seems momentarily frozen in place, standing at the foot of Jacqueline’s bed. His eyes dart to you as if to silently ask permission to stay, and you give a subtle, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it shrug and tilt of your head. He inhales and you see his nostrils flare. He clears his throat and says, “Let me find a chair, then.” 

There’s something humorous about a man as tall and imposing and draconian as Aaron Hotchner looking for a chair in the emergency room bay of a hospital. Shoulders hunched so he doesn’t inconvenience anyone. You hope he feels embarrassed and humbled by the experience. A muted smirk rests upon your lips as you watch him most unhelpfully, not even bothering to move from your seat. 

Eventually he finds a free chair in the corner and drags it to the other side of Jacqueline’s bed, keeping a respectful distance. He looks across the bed at Spencer, who sits beside you. “Did you tell her that Garcia basically pushed Jacqueline over the curb?” 

Fluorescent lighting had never been so flattering before. Under its clarifying spotlight, Aaron gets to see details of you he’d missed at the bar where you first met. The texture of your skin, an extra little sliver of thigh from those linen shorts he wasn’t privy to before. 

And when he leaned over you to give Reid his coffee? He caught your intoxicating scent and now he fears it will either be stuck in his nostrils forever, or it will fade too quickly, before he can commit it to memory. 

“Penelope did what?” You’re asking, looking at Reid, then Jacqueline, brows creasing in the middle. 

Aaron folds his left leg atop his right, then nods with an amused smile. It’s clear you still don’t like him - might even hate him for how cold he was to you at the bar the other night. He can tell by the way you refuse to look at him unless absolutely necessary, how your jaw visibly tenses every time he addresses you directly. 

“I have no solid proof,” Aaron begins, offering the information as an olive branch. Your eyes snap to his and he’s jarred for a second, then he continues, the corners of his lips ticking up into an amused smile. “But one second, I see Garcia and Morgan at least three feet behind where Jacqueline’s walking, and the next thing I know, she’s on the ground and Garcia’s apologizing profusely.” 

“Why isn’t she here?” You laugh softly, and Aaron’s chest thrums. He can’t diagnose his reaction to it, but your laugh, no matter how strained and merely polite it might be at this moment, could be the thing that kills him. 

“Something about feeding JJ and Emily’s cat while they’re on vacation,” Jacqueline chimes in. Aaron clocks the younger woman’s eyes and how glued they are on Reid. She’s been so closed off every time Aaron’s around, so this tidbit of information coming from her surprises him. Aaron’s wondered this whole time if she truly likes Reid or if she’s just being kind. 

You nod in understanding and lean back in your chair. Little wisps of your hair fall into your eyes and you brush them back delicately with your index finger. 

Jacqueline pipes up again, her voice still timid and maybe a little tired. “Would you mind maybe getting me a snack?” She asks you. 

Aaron watches the softening of your expression as you look at Jacqueline fondly. You would do anything for her, and he can tell. “Of course,” you squeeze Jacqueline’s uninjured leg as you rise from your seat. 

“And maybe Aaron can go with you? Since Spence is pretty hungry, too, right, Spence?” Jacqueline proposes. 

Your soft expression twists into one of slight irritance. 

Aaron knows exactly what Jacqueline is up to, but it takes Reid a lingering moment to catch on. “What - oh, yeah, I’m starving,” the good doctor adds, even going to far as to pat his stomach, as if to say it’s hollow in there. 

Your eyes shrink in annoyance, and you seem to plaster a sickly sweet smile onto your lips, one that would make demons shake in their boots. You lock eyes with Aaron, as if to say, well? What’s it gonna be? 

Aaron asks Jacqueline and Reid what they want, then leads the way out of the ER and towards the cafeteria. The hospital’s signage is fairly easy to follow, and Aaron slows his usually long strides so you don’t have to struggle to keep up.

He gestures to your Georgetown sweatshirt. “You graduated from Georgetown?” He asks. 

“No, I just like to wear merchandise for schools I didn’t attend,” you deadpan, and there’s that goddamn attitude again. 

Aaron considers laying it all out - right here, right now. You’re not even thirty yet, from what Garcia’s told him. He shouldn’t be attracted to you, but he is, and god, is it killing him. Instead, he just furrows his brows and doesn’t say anything. 

“Yeah,” you soften a little, shoving your hands in the pockets of the sweatshirt. You seem to be cutting Aaron a little bit of slack, for whatever reason. “Yeah, I went to Georgetown.” 

Aaron holds the door open for you when you reach the cafeteria. You feel a little bad for your snarky comment in the hallway. You were not raised to be outwardly rude. You were raised to hoard your resentment like a precious flower, nursing it so it grows big and strong. 

“Jacqueline made it really sound like an emergency, huh?” Aaron asks, following you to the line. You shoot him a quizzical brow, and he gestures to your ensemble. 

“Oh, excuse me for not wearing an Armani suit to the hospital,” you roll your eyes, but they linger on the wrinkles in his dress shirt. “You just went out right after work, then? In your fancy suit?” 

Aaron smooths his fingertips over the white cotton. The color reminds you of freshly cleaned bedsheets. “Yeah, and it’s not Armani, for your information.” 

“Sorry, Mr. FBI. What is it, then, Dolce & Gabbana? Ralph Lauren?” 

“Tom Ford.” 

“Like that’s any less pretentious,” you scoff. 

“Hey, I can spend my money however I choose,” Aaron says, and you know he’s right. That doesn’t mean you’re not going to give him shit for it. 

“Must be nice to just burn cash,” you say dryly. “I’m sure your wife loves that.” 

“I don’t have a wife.” You look at him over your shoulder and his eye twitches a little when he says this. 

You’re not sure why you mention a wife anyway. Maybe you’re merely curious, but then again, you’ve already clocked that he’s not wearing a wedding ring. “Girlfriend, then,” you correct. “Do men your age call them girlfriends, or do you prefer the term mistress?” 

“Men my age?” Aaron laughs bitterly. “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he says. His voice is stringent, right on the line of annoyance. You smirk to yourself and grab a tray so you can carry the food. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t call her my mistress, because I don’t have a wife to cheat on with her.” 

“Bachelors in the 1800s called their girlfriends mistresses,” you point out, though your facts are coming from Bridgerton, so you’re not sure if they’re entirely accurate. “I don’t know how old-fashioned you are.” 

“I’m not,” Aaron says simply as you load an individual-size veggie pizza on your tray for Jacqueline, then grab a bag of chips and a soda for yourself. Aaron grabs the sandwich Spencer requested, and you lead the way to the checkout. 

The cafeteria worker punches in your items, and then Aaron’s. “Oh, we’re not together,” you correct politely. 

“It’s fine,” Aaron insists, pulling a silver AmEx out of his wallet. You reach for your own wallet to try and beat him, but he’s already swiped by the time you even get it out. 

You thank the cafeteria worker before gathering everything in your hands. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say as you and Aaron head out of the cafeteria. He holds the door open for you, again. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Aaron says as you walk through the open door. “Chivalry is still alive, as far as I’m concerned.” 

“Not old-fashioned, huh?” You smirk as you look up at him, feeling your cheeks redden a bit. Wait, when did this become playful jesting rather than straight-up bullying? 

“Maybe a little old-fashioned.” Aaron’s lips hint at a smile, and you feel your mouth go dry. 

“Shocking that you’re still on the market,” you say, admittedly because you’re curious about what Penelope said the other night at the bar. Something about Aaron going through a hard time. 

“My job requires a lot of my time,” Aaron explains. Your footsteps slow a little and he matches your pace. “Even if I found someone worth all the trouble, I don’t think I’d have the time to dedicate to a relationship.” 

“Worth all the trouble?” You repeat, a scoff lining your voice like a thousand tiny needles. Aaron resists the urge to visibly wince at your reaction. 

Why you’re prompting all this relationship discussion is beyond him. He’s a profiler, for Christ’s sake, but he can’t pin you down, for some reason. He lays the brickwork down and builds his walls up again. For a moment, back in the cafeteria, he was starting to let you in. 

But, no, it doesn’t matter how god-forsakenly adorable you are when you scrunch your nose or call him out on his bullshit. Aaron’s not ready for this kind of thing yet, so iciness is necessary. It protects him, it protects Jack, but - and, maybe most importantly - it protects you. 

You’re young and you’re willful. You’re a goddamn hurricane, a force to be reckoned with, but your stubbornness is a house of cards. Aaron Hotchner knows that if he hurts you, the cards will fall. And he could never forgive himself for something like that. 

So when you look at him for some kind of explanation, throwing him an arched brow and the opportunity to explain himself, he doesn’t take it. Instead, he watches as you pick up your pace and walk ahead of him, leaving a hell of a view and a frustrated, fully-grown man in your wake.

[emmyrosee]

Only write this if u want to and with whoever u want.

But y/n has been depresso expresso these past few weeks she can’t get out of bed, she’s not been answering calls or texts and whenever she does she’s declining requests to hang out or come over….and her boyfriend had been missing her. So he just shows up spontaneously and rings the doorbell and she opens the door and she stares at him and then BURSTS into tears. BC GUESS WHAT ur grieving ur broke ur periods here u have assignments due next week that u haven’t even started and ur just so overwhelmed…. But Ofc u didn’t want ur boyfriend to see u like this u look messy right now. BUTTT Ofc ur boyfriend couldn’t care less and takes care of u anyway and brings u outside for fresh air and takes u for some ice cream at the 24 hr convince store nearby even though he doesn’t even like Ice cream that much but u have been craving something sweet and cold so why wouldn’t he 🥹

SO ANYWAY THANKS DOR READING LOVE U SO MUCH HAVE A GREAT NIGHT, EVENING OR DAY ❤️

-Anon🥢

The gentle knocking against your door has your brow raising and your show pausing. You’re not used to having guests at this hour, much less guests at all, and you wrap yourself in a blanket to get up and greet the person at the door.

You check the peephole. Osamu stands outside, playing on his phone.

Your heart sinks at the idea of him seeing you like this, seeing you so drained and so tired, but you can’t ignore him or send him away, either. You shrug the blanket higher on your shoulders and you open the door, trying to ignore the way his face lights up as you open it. “Hey,” you murmur.

“Hey,” he whispers, hands digging around the plastic bag in his hand, pulling out a bag of gummy bears. “I brought gummy bears.”

You don’t know why- Honest!- but your eyes water and your lip wobbles and you absolutely throw yourself into his chest, his arms expertly catching you and cradling you while you absolutely wail. You fist his shirt as your sobs wrack your soul. He doesn’t say anything, merely pressing kisses to your head and rocking you both gently. “I’m sorry,” you heave.

He shushes you softly, “don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”

“I missed you so much,” you sob, and he hums in agreement. “Osamu, I’m so tired, I can’t bring myself to do anything, what’s wrong?”

“You’re in your head,” he says quietly, pulling back to wipe a tear that falls from your eye. “And that’s okay. You’ve been working so hard, it’s totally normal to be a bit burnt out, baby. You’ve got a lot going on.” He smiles softly at you, “but this is your sign to be pampered for a little bit, okay? You trust me?”

You sniffle a few more times before nodding, curling back into his chest to feel the tightness of his embrace circle you once again. He says nothing, he does nothing, merely letting you cry it out in his arms, with the occasional kiss to the crown of your head. Once you’ve tuckered yourself out, you pull back to look at him once again, only to laugh at the imprint of your crying face on his shirt. “Sorry,” you manage between sniffly laughter.

“It’s fine,” he snorts. “It’ll dry. Now-“ he nudges his head towards the door, “go lock up, and we can run to 7/11 for some ice cream.”

The mere idea makes your heart sing, but you pout up at him, “you don’t like ice cream though?”

“I’ll get chips. I know you’re going to steal some anyways, so I don’t mind,” he chuckles. For the first time in weeks, you feel yourself perk up, the idea of something sweet and cold tingling your tastebuds in ways you haven’t felt since losing your appetite. You move quicker than you have in days, turning off the tv and locking your door, only for osamu to catch you and wrap you in his big arms. You giggle as he catches under your knees and spins you into a bridal carry, and you wrap your arms around him instinctively.

He places you gingerly in the passenger seat, careful of your head and legs before closing the door and making his way to the drivers side. You smirk and lean over to honk the horn to scare him, cackling as he leaps a foot in the air, his face curling into one of mischief as he shakes his head. He gets in the car, “I’m getting you back for that.”

“Try me,” you tease.

The ride to 7/11 is just as fun, with his hand on your thigh and the windows down while music plays through the speakers. The sun is setting, casting a hue of pink over the horizon and objects on it, and it’s almost amusing how the 7/11 looks ethereal carved in pink.

Four bags of chips, a bag of m’n’m’s and three ice creams later, you check out of the store and make your way back to the car, each of you indulging in your ice creams before they melt into goo.

You sigh and look up at him, “are we going home?”

“Do you want to?”

He looks over at you warmly, laying his tongue flat to slurp up a lap of ice cream. You snicker and shrug, “not… not really. I mean… I haven’t been outside in weeks, and it feels so good.”

“Then we don’t go home,” he says simply, taking a bite of his cone. “I think the moon is full tonight, so we can go watch the sunset finish, look for the moon?”

You beam up at him, “I’d love that.”

He nods, “I thought you might.”

It takes only 5 minutes to find a park suitable to situate at, your fingers now dug into a bag of Doritos as he parks the car and nudges his head, “come on. We can set up in the trunk.”

“Trunk?”

“Yeah,” he encourages, and you merely shrug and follow his example of getting out of the car. He pops the trunk and plops himself down, patting the seat next to him. “I don’t have a blanket we can lay down on, so this will have to do.”

“Why don’t you lay on the dirt and I’ll lay on you?” You ask, and he rolls his eyes while you laugh. “I thought you were chivalrous, Osamu.”

“I’m not getting a tick because you’re too fancy to sit in a trunk,” he teases, and you shake your head playfully before sitting in the trunk next to him. You rest your head on his shoulders, and he reaches in the bag for a dorito, his head laying down to rest on yours.

And it’s quiet. Comfortably quiet, with a warm hand resting on your knee with his thumb rolling over the bone lovingly, a bag of crumpled Doritos tossed somewhere behind you. The sun has set half an hour ago, but you’re both too entranced by the bright moon hanging low in the sky to move. Bugs come to life as they chirp, and streetlights pop on around the park.

It’s bliss.

It’s amazing how much the fresh air has brought you back, how much Osamu brought you back, and you don’t know what you’d do without him.

“‘Samu?”

“Yeah baby?”

“I love you.”

He kisses your head, “I love you too, baby.” Then he sighs, and you feel the arm wrapped lowly around you trail up your side, and your lip twitches. “Now, about the whole honking at me thing-“

“No!” You squeal as five fingers dig into your side, holding you close as you squirm at the tickling, your laughter ringing in the air of night that envelops you both like a hug.

[delicatereader]

blind faith

Anakin x reader

warnings: angry couple, smut

a/n: I need requests guys! (btw I didn't fully finish this bc I lost motivation at the end but oh well)

➽────────────────────────────❥

Your in the kitchen pouring some wine for yourself and Anakin. You grab the glasses and make your way to the window where Anakin's sat frowning.

"I got some wine for you..." you say

He doesn't look back or even acknowledge you

"Oh stop being a fucking child!" you mutter annoyed

There were lies, truths and secrets. It was both of your fault. You thought every obstacle of your relationship was easy, done with. You just have to have faith in it. Oh but you were wrong. This is something else. This time it's different, it feels like there's an ocean between you.

He staring out the glass window like a fucking child put in time out or whatever. He refuses to talk it out.

"I can't talk to you when you're like this" you say taking a step towards him

He turns his head to look at you, revealing his gorgeous side profile. He's always been the good looking one of the relationship.

"What? do you want me to go or something?" he speaks up

"What?"

"You're acting like you want me to leave!" he snaps

"I never said that! You're the one acting like it! I got you some wine and your saying I want you leave?!" you raise your voice stepping closer

He's always been like this, everytime you fight he thinks it's the end of the world. Like you're going to leave him or you're with someone else. So you try not to argue too much, but it is unavoidable.

He gets up from his fixed position after a long pause. This time his expressions completely changed. His eyes are not angry but desperate (for you).

He towers over you, breathing heavily. His lips trembled a bit, and started searching your eyes with his own beautiful ones

You roll your eyes and turn away from him, trying to leave the scend. As you turn you feel him pulling on your waist, slamming his your body against his.

"Hey..." he whispers softly

You've never been so confused. You tilt your head lost. Before you could pick up your thoughts, he kisses you.

He runs his hands over your back before landing it on your ass. He grabs your thighs and wraps them around his hips effortlessly. You let out a slight moan as he slides his tongue in your mouth. He carries you over to the edge of the bed.

"Lay back" he commands

You crawl backwards till your head meets the headboard. He's still stood at the edge of the bed, he takes his shirt off revealing his perfect abs. He crawls to you, with a look on his face. Something that said "you have no idea what's about to come".

Anakin's on top of you now. Slipping his hands under your shorts and feeling every inch of your skin.

He pulls his hands back out and covers your cheeks with it, kissing you passionately.

"Have faith, my love" he says kissing your forehead.

What a way to end a fight! you think

He moves his kisses leave a trail your shorts. He slides two fingers inside the strap of your shorts and pulls it down.

"Oh my-" he moans against your thighs

You had no underwear, giving him a clear view of your pussy. He rubs his tongue against your clit getting a gasp out of you. His hands on you were overwhelming enough, but this felt like heaven.

"Oh Ani!" you yell

As he slips two fingers inside you, your legs numbed and tried to get tangled in the sheets for control. Every movement, every thrust, every kiss drew out a loud moan from you.

"Calm down baby" he says pulling your levitating hips back to the bed, keeping a firm hold on them

He was worshipping you with kisses and his pretty tongue. The only faith you need are his lips, for him yours.

[cultkinkcoven]

oh, Lucifer

so funny story. I was buying of stuff online (new binder, neck massager etc) and I saw this cheap little Lucifer ring for like $4, and I was like hey I still can’t find my nice devotee ring because I LOST it like a goof so why not get this shitty little ring as a replacement for now.

Well I was doing the preparations for a ritual and blood offering to Lucifer and my packages arrived. Yippee. So I pause and go get my shit and show Lucifer the ring. It IMMEDIATELY breaks, like disintegrates in my hands within like 5 seconds of me holding it. And i’m like “well that’s a rejection if I’ve ever seen one” and Lucifer gives me the overwhelming feeling that he agrees. The cheapness of the ring is actually an insult to him. So I’m like yeah, sorry, you’re right. I just miss my actual ring so much.

So I continue with the ritual, offer blood, and he’s very satisfied and honoured. But I’m still bummed out because no ring. and he’s like “you know the ring isn’t the thing that makes our relationship, you just gave me your blood and all these gifts, we are forever bound to each other” and Im like I KNOW BUT MY RRRRIIIINGGGGG

likeWHYYYY what lesson are you trying to teach me this is CRUEL i didn’t even DO anything wrong I look EVERYWHERRE WWWHYYY

And he said something about it being somewhere I wouldn’t able to find anyways. So great thanks Lucifer

Well almost immediately afterwards, I’m hanging out in the living room and my roommate is like “hey is this yours?” and SHE HAS MY RING and I’m like YES!!! Turns out she found it in the couch and had it on her for a couple days bc she forgot to give it to me.

So I immediately rush to my altar like !!!! loookkk!!!! 😇 my ring!!! :)) 💖

and I get the strong bold message of “crybaby” from Lucifer but I don’t care. Heeheee I got my ring back 😉 Im never taking it off again

💖❤️💕💞💓💖💘