#i think of him as my other half and he is my fav person in the world i would die for him

[guubiiz]

heartslabyul would be named my favorite dorm if i didn’t despise riddle.

[sunrizef1]

imgonnagetyouback

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!singer!reader

Warnings: Cursing

Authors note: I guess I lied about the Lando thing… this songs just so Lando I can’t explain it and I’m actually obsessed with this song rn. You probably have to at least know the premise of the song to understand the second half of this.

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

📍New York, New York

liked by maxfewtrell taylorswift and 13,998,887 others

yourusername hello, New York!

tagged: taylorswift

Load comments…

user1 my fav

user2 love her

user3 so pretty 🤩

taylorswift 🩵

yourusername 🤭💋

user4 welcome to New York, so real

user5 I miss Lando

user6 hi queen!!!

user7 new music when

user8 “I love NY not you” lmao Lando get up

user9 now why in the world did max like this

user10 and now Lando will post an Instagram story of him partying with some random girl to prove he’s having more fun than y/n is, we know how this goes

user11 you can not tell me they don’t miss each other

sabrinacarpenter pretty 🤩 🤩 🤩

yourusername no u 💋

user12 I just need a video of her English ass trying to navigate new York please and thx

maxfewtrell hey bestie!

yourusername oh my god get out of here

user13 wtf is max doing 😭😭

gracieabrams I ❤️ u

yourusername 🥰

oscarpiastri hi

yourusername hi?

———————————————

landonorris added to their story

user14

Now wtf

user15

user10 was right

user16

Alright ig

oscarpiastri

oh okay

MESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

yourusername added to their story

oscarpiastri

Still can't believe you convinced me to do that

yourusername

You'll be fine, ill get you concert tickets

can't even tell its you either

oscarpiastri

fine

they better be vip

yourusername

Dw they will be

—————-

maxfewtrell

???

yourusername

Dw its just Oscar

maxfewtrell

Jesus i cant believe you

yourusername

He started it. This is the first time I've included a guy in my posts, landos been doing it for months

maxfewtrell

you're gonna be the death of me

yourusername

💋💋💋💋

maxfewtrell

take care of yourself though y/n

yourusername

I am

Thx tho max 🫶

maxfewtrell

Yeah yeah 🙄

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yourusername

📍Paris, France

liked by charles_leclerc oscarpiastri and 21,008,771 others

yourusername I can tell when somebody still wants me

load comments…

user17 oh yay they're gonna sneak diss in their Insta captions again

user18 I miss dad ☹️

user19 she's so pretty omg

maxfewtrell oh wonderful we’re doing this now

yourusername leave

user20 lando its your turn

user21 IM IN LOVE WITH HER

charles_leclerc I'm amused

yourusername congrats

user22 they're so messy I love them

oscarpiastri great he's about to drag me into doing something stupid because of this

yourusername that is not my problem

user23 I sense new music coming along

user24 I do genuinely think he still wants her lowk

user25 they want eachother, don't lie. Its defo mutual

user26 😍😍😍

taylorswift 🤩

yourusername 🥰

jackantonoff 🤪

liker by yourusername

user27 why is jack here???? New music???

————————————————

landonorris

liked by maxfewtrell martingarrix and 12,008,998 others

landonorris I have what I want

load comments…

user28 oh… yay

user29 🤩🤩🤩

user30 say what you want about their shitty personalities but they sure do know how to make an aesthetic post

user31 the shade is immense

maxfewtrell im nauseous

landonorris 👍

user32 they’re so into each other it’s actually insane

user33 OH MY GOD WE GET IT YOU MISS EACHOTHER

user34 🤩🤩🤩

user35 he’s so fine

user35 LANDO-

user36 now what’s y/n gonna do

user37 how long until they both apologize and get back together… these are not the posts of people who have healthily moved on from their previous relationship

user38 fine as hell lowk

oscarpiastri this is 100% the most healthy way to handle this

landonorris I didn’t ask

user39 all of their friends are so annoyed and it’s so funny

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yourusername added to their story

maxfewtrell

Is this a song where you admit you’re still in love with Lando so you both can finally get over your emotional immaturity???

yourusername

kinda

maxfewtrell

Oh fr?

I thought you’d just be mean to him for the whole song

yourusername

Uhhh-

——————————————

yourusername

liked by sabrinacarpenter taylorswift and 21,000,111 others

yourusername imgonnagetyouback out now 🩶

Load comments…

user40 IM GONNA GET YOU BACK

user41 oh my god it’s so good

user42 LANDO GET UP

user43 THE CAPTION FROM PARIS WAS A SONG LYRICCCCC

user44 oh so she’s still in love with him

user45 “you were never not mine” 💀

user46 I CAN FEEL IT COMING HUMMIN IN THE WAY YOU MOVE

user47 PUSH THE RESET BUTTON WERE BECOMING SOMETHING NEW

user48 SAY YOU GOT SOMEBODY ILL SAY IVE GOT SOMEONE TOO

user49 EVEN IF ITS HANDCUFFED IM LEAVING HERE WITH YOU

user50 “I’m an Aston Martin” okay lance strollll

oscarpiastri “I’ve got someone too” no you do not 💀

yourusername oh my god shut up

user51 she’s still in love with him dhmu

maxfewtrell when I asked if this was going to be emotionally healthy and not a diss I can now see why you were conflicted…. Bit of both tbh

yourusername 🫶

maxfewtrell 👎

user52 told my friends I hate you but I love you just the same 😭

user53 SO GOOD

user54 WHETHER IM GONNA BE YOUR WIFE????

——————————————

landonorris added to their story

maxfewtrell

…

what does this achieve

landonorris

What do you want

maxfewtrell

Mate come on

you’re still obviously in love with her

and the song litteraly shows she’s still in love with you

all you’ve done is post a thirst trap of yourself with song lyrics on top

landonorris

It’s not a thirst trap

maxfewtrell

I hate both of you

text her mate

you’re happier together

And I’m tired of both of you annoying the shit out of me

landonorris

Fine

Maybe I will

maxfewtrell

Thank god

It’d be the first time you listened to me

—————————————

MESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

yourusername added to their story

maxfewtrell

That better be Lando or so help me god

yourusername

Calm your tits

It is

maxfewtrell

YEAHHHH

Finally

I can stop playing matchmaker

yourusername

😒😒😒😒

————————————————

oscarpiastri

Oh so this means you’ll both stop dragging me into your dumb shit

yourusername

🖕🖕🖕🖕

oscarpiastri

🫶

———————————————

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

landonorris

liked by yourusername maxfewtrell and 13,001,881 others

landonorris told my friends I hate you but I love you just the same

load comments…

user55 YEAHHHHHHH

user56 Y/N LIKED WE’RE SO BACK

user57 my favs

user58 my parents are back together 😭

user59 unlike your real ones

user58 woah???

user59 🤷‍♀️ it’s the truth

user60 I missed them so much 😭😭😭

user61 admitted you love your ex-gf on main, this is self-improvement

yourusername pick your poison, babe

landonorris I’m poison either way

user62 I appreciate the repeating lyrics at each other because it is cute but those are not the kindest lyrics to be repeating 😭

user63 who knew that shit-talking your ex in a song could get him to re-admit his love for you

maxfewtrell took you long enough

landonorris legitimately who asked you

maxfewtrell I’m the reason this even happened in the first place. Watch your tone.

landonorris thanks i guess

maxfewtrell “I guess” @/yourusername this is how happy he is to have you back

yourusername landoooo

landonorris sorry. Thank you so much max, I’m so grateful you brought the loml back to me.

maxfewtrell you’re welcome ☺️

—————————————

yourusername

liked by landonorris maxfewtrell and 20,887,991 others

yourusername got you back

load comments…

user64 she got him back 🥹

user65 YEAHHHHH LFG

user66 awwwww

user67 I love them so much

user68 sleeping on the highway tonight 🫶

oscarpiastri 🥳🥳🥳

liked by yourusername

user69 these pictures are so cute oh my god 😭

user70 IM GONNA GET YOU BACK

landonorris you decided wether you’re gonna be my wife or smash up my bike yet?

yourusername still not sure… maybe both 🤔

user71 BOTH?????

user72 YEAH YEAH THATS FUNNY AND ALL BUT SHE JUST SAID SHE’D MARRY HIM

maxfewtrell congratulations nerds

yourusername thanks mate

user73 I’m in love with both of them

user74 they’re both so much happier together I really hope they stick this time

user75 and when she releases a love album then what

landonorris ily 🫶

yourusername ily2 🫶

user76 Jesus Christ they’re such teenagers 😭 USE FULL WORDS 😭😭😭

user77 no I get them. I wouldn’t post full love confessions in an Instagram comment section either lmao

user78 they got each other back 🫶

———————————————

Taglist: @casperlikej @evie-119

[femboyhooters-cooters]

guys how do i tell someone i wanna be in a qpr with them? like i think theyve never heard of this term before (more info in tags)

[husbandhoshi]

title: eat. play. love.

pairing: seungcheol x f!reader

wc: 19.4k

summary: being one of new york's top food critics comes with a lot of perks: free dinners, nice awards, and a linkedin profile your parents could be proud of. that doesn't stop you from wanting a lofty promotion to editor, and the only person standing in your way is choi seungcheol. just one problem: his romance column has half of new york under his grimy little thumb. that, and you hate him.

in which your love language is food. seungcheol doesn't have one.

notes: romcom with mild angst, coworkers!au, slow burn enemies to lovers, playboy!cheol, suggestive (one moment in particular) + mentions of sex (otherwise sfw), swearing, lots of alcohol, also you will probably get hungry reading this. extra special thanks a million times over to my fav person @wuahae for bearing with me through literally all 20k words of this. i love you:')

It's underneath a layer of paper-thin egg yolk pasta where you think you see god.

Spoon meets whipped ricotta, white truffle, sage oil. A sip of 1979 cabernet, punishing and oaky. Rinse and repeat.

None of these words are in the Bible, yet you are having nothing short of a religious experience.

"Well, this seems like good news for the place," Jeonghan says. "Wine's tasty. Three stars?"

At this point, you're fairly sure Jeonghan has tuned the explanation of your elaborate rating process out (he's there for the wine, anyway), so instead you top him up and help yourself to a generous portion of his pappardelle.

"Four, then?" He leans forward on his elbows. "Or critic's choice?"

Candied lemon, pecorino, garlic. Derivative, but it's a good bite.

"You're distracting me." You point your fork at him. "You're like 80% alcohol, anyway. Bad opinions."

"Sue me," he laughs. "I would take a client here, is all I'm saying."

You pass on the opportunity to bring up that Jeonghan once brought a client to a Bubba Gump because he was craving coconut shrimp. But Jeonghan isn't a food critic—he's a business analyst and your best friend from college, back when all you cared about was Friday's house party and writing pizza joint reviews for the university paper.

It's a good arrangement. You appreciate his company, and he's never one to turn down a free meal. The both of you keep a small circle—such is the price of discernment.

There aren't many things that can come between you and a delicious meal. But, you have notifications turned on for just three things (all work-related) and you both watch the linen tablecloth light up under your face-down phone in true horror-movie fashion.

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. "Popular on a Saturday night," he jokes. "Copy on your ass again?"

"Nothing's in production," you reply, letting the evil claws of your terrible work-life balance encircle you once again as you open your email.

URGENT: LIFESTYLE EDITOR TRANSITIONAL PLANS, it reads. It's from Wonwoo, your editor in chief, who has sent it with priority, as if the caps lock wasn't scary enough.

"So Joshua decided to quit. Just like you said," Jeonghan says, but it's like he's speaking to you through a wet paper bag because it takes every working brain cell of yours to read the email.

As you may know, Joshua has decided to step down from his position as our current Lifestyle editor.

Not a surprise, given his wife is having a kid. You had called it six months ago over the paper's Christmas dinner at Eleven Madison Park, when Joshua spent half of it outside on a phone call and the other half browsing the Baby Gap website.

I have decided to hire internally to fill his position. I and upper management believe you would be a good fit for the position. Please plan for a meeting 9 AM Monday to discuss transitional plans.

It's that part that you have to read over three times. And then you read it over a fourth, just for good measure.

"You're starting to scare me." Jeonghan puts down his glass, which is something akin to a baby separating from their bottle.

Sometimes you need a dictionary to understand Wonwoo, but the email seems clear as day to you. Good fit. Transitional plans. Suddenly you wish Jeonghan hadn't had so much of the wine because you're in desperate need of a drink.

"I-I think…I think I'm getting promoted."

How funny to think your lifelong dream would be realized over a 40 dollar plate of pasta. You want to cry and hug the maître d' and eat the entire complimentary bread basket.

"It's about time." The glass finds his relieved hand again. "You breathe journalism. I'm afraid one day you'll text me in AP style."

You read over all of it again, trying to memorialize the words that undoubtedly will launch your wonderful and long career in the upper echelons of media.

Looking forward to talking with the two of you.

Wait—two?

Then the proverbial cherry on top, the laughably convenient other thing your eyes had glazed over before.

CC: Choi Seungcheol.

"Choi Seungcheol?!"

Nothing is ever that easy and it then dawns on you that this is a competition type thing because never in the history of the printing press has there been two editors for a section.

Jeonghan stares at you blankly. It would be funny if you didn't feel like you were being double deep-fried like terrible fair food, all the thrill and elation of the moment boiled down to lead in your chest.

"I—he," you stammer.

Jeonghan mouths check to the poor waiter assigned to watch your table. God bless him.

"Words," he tells you. "You went to journalism school."

You take a syrupy breath that sits in your lungs unhappily. Your food is cold. This is a disaster.

"Well, actually, I'm not getting promoted."

Jeonghan's eyes soften, just enough without making you pity yourself more.

"There's this guy," you start. "He's the love and relationships columnist, the one I complain about all the time." Jeonghan makes a small ahh sound, your predicament finally dawning on him. "I guess we're both under consideration for the position. I didn't-I didn't even think of him. I—"

You slump into your seat, the arancini your only solace despite your complaint that the breading was too salty earlier.

"So? I bet you're a way better fit than him. It'll be a shoe-in. Easy decision."

Jeonghan's confidence in you makes you want to cry.

The problem is that Seungcheol is the human equivalent of Cosmopolitan Magazine. You can't recall the last time he walked into the office with a fully buttoned up shirt. You also can't recall the last time one of his advice columns wasn't in the end of quarter recap for popularity.

It's not in you to explain this debacle to Jeonghan. This whole situation is so cosmically awful that all you can do is ask for dessert in a takeout box and watch Jeonghan calculate tip without a calculator because that's all you learn in business school.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Jeonghan asks when you're both in the Uber.

"Yeah." You have a headache. You also can't decide whether or not to give the restaurant three or four stars, and you always know by the time you're out the door. "It's fine."

The tiramisu is cold in your lap. Jeonghan squeezes your shoulder. You refresh your email.

Choi Seungcheol's name stares back at you.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

The meeting goes exactly how you would expect.

Wonwoo, in his lanky taupe sweater vest, says that Joshua is leaving and you and Seungcheol are standing toe-to-toe in the space left behind.

"I'm sure you two are well-acquainted," he begins.

You stifle a laugh, but Seungcheol's cat-like grimace says more than enough. Neither of you have the heart to tell Wonwoo that your very first impression of Seungcheol was that he tried to hit on you at the new recruit party, or that Joshua probably deserves reparations for how often he mediated fights between the two of you during weekly meetings. (Maybe not reparations, but at least an Edible Arrangements.)

For better or for worse, Wonwoo's genius does not extend to social cues, and he follows with a blithe, "Therefore, I hope you two will treat this as a friendly competition between equals."

You almost laugh again, but this time it's because you need the promotion more than you need air, and you cannot allow some Buzzfeed reject with the face of a model take that from you. And you don't doubt Seungcheol wants it as bad as you do, considering how often you've seen him try to schmooze his way up the ranks.

He may have become a columnist by rubbing elbows with the right people, but you'll never forget the late nights you spent sifting through hours of interview transcripts, on the grueling climb up the totem pole to earn your position.

"We'll evaluate an article of your own submission at the end of the month before we decide. Best of luck."

At least Wonwoo knows to quit while he's ahead—he closes the meeting with a succinct nod before returning to his seemingly infinite unread emails.

"Exciting," Seungcheol says. He claps his hands together, Rolex gaudy under the office lights, and sends a nauseating smile your way. "May the best writer win."

He offers you a handshake. You think he has real life cooties, so instead you close your planner and shoot him a very pointed look.

"There's only one writer here. Thrilled to read your next thinkpiece on how men should spend more time on Tinder and not therapy."

That earns you a chuckle from Wonwoo, but Seungcheol is not easily fazed.

Instead he rushes to hold the door open for you on your way out, likely his favorite piece of advice to give his poor, indolent readers.

"I'll book a table for us at Avra next month," Seungcheol gloats. "Consider it a gift from your future boss."

"They don't have a kids menu, you know."

"No problem. I'll have my darling food critic order for me." He places a wicked hand over his polyester covered heart. "Ending misogyny in one fell swoop, huh?"

You wait for the door to Wonwoo's office to close before looking at him right in his wet, cow eyes with the most malice you can possibly muster. You feel it collect in your bones, enough to feel like you can physically hack it up and hurl it at him.

"You have no clue what you're talking about, huh? Do you actually attract women with that attitude? Or are you just a really good liar?"

You are so close to him, you could kiss him if you wanted—luckily for the both of you, you would rather die a thousand fiery, terrible deaths, and then die all over again. Instead, you watch his pout unravel into a grin from hell, and he leans in closer, the scent of Old Spice and break room coffee heavy on him. This morning's matcha latte churns in your stomach, and you wonder if you should have gotten oatmilk instead of dairy.

Up close, he's worse. His hair reminds you of the sad, tired swoop of the washed-up lead of a daytime soap opera. And he has no pores, which is deeply upsetting because he looks like the type to wash his face with Palmolive and a prayer.

"You know what?"

His breath hits your lips and your skin prickles like you have an allergy.

"What?"

"You just gave me the winning idea for my next column." No way, you think. Mind games. Classy. "See you at dinner, sweetheart. Looking forward to it."

The pet name makes you seethe. There are a million things you want to say, all colorful and none workplace appropriate.

"I'd rather starve."

"Better not let Wonwoo hear you with that bad attitude. I'm sure management loves a team player." His cheshire grin somehow gets bigger, all white teeth and pink lip. "Try to smile a little, huh? Have fun writing about snails and black garlic and cwa-ssants, or whatever it is that you do."

you watch all the laminated syllables of croissant go through his paper shredder smile and you think you black out.

He spins on his heel triumphantly, almost bowling over Minghao from Arts & Entertainment, who is undoubtedly wondering if you did, in fact, kiss.

Seungcheol laughs as he walks away, linebacker shoulders rippling under his one size too small shirt.

The metal-red knot of anger swells in your gut as you watch his perfect silhouette and his tiny little waist disappear into the staff room. Then you realize what you've been looking at and let yourself get mad all over again.

He does have a nice ass, though. You'll give him that.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

"You'll never guess what I have."

"Is it better than this lox bagel?" You answer, mouth unattractively full.

Seungkwan's answer is the sound of a straw hitting the bottom of an empty cup and the grating jostle of ice. Phone calls with him are like ASMR because he's always doing a million things at once, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Infinitely," he finally says, after procuring the last milliliter of what's likely his second coffee of the day. "Besides, we all know pesto is way better."

"Wrong, but okay," you reply. "What is it?"

"You're not gonna thank me for being the best friend in the world? Me, an editor, keeping nepotism alive for you? A mere columnist?"

"Senior columnist," you laugh between bites. "You need me. Who else would you text during content meetings?"

"Whatever." His eye roll is audible. "I guess I won't tell you."

He shakes his cup again, all ice and no patience.

"Fine! I owe you. My career and my life."

"And a seat at Momofuku."

"And that."

You take another greedy bite, letting the everything on an everything bagel get all over your chin. You love dressing up and going to restaurants that cost more than both of your kidneys, but there's something sacred about eating a $10 bagel behind the shield of your computer screen at a cafe where no one knows you.

There's someone laughing really loudly somewhere, and if you weren't otherwise preoccupied, you would look for the offender and give them a hard glare. You don't know what could possibly be that funny at 9 AM, but, then again, you never were a morning person.

"So, I have intel. About Seungcheol." You can picture the glint in Seungkwan's eyes, glittery and caramel. Unfortunately, the news that it's related to your worst enemy makes you sit up a little straighter. "At today's content meeting, Joshua said that he's working on some kind of challenge to go on as many dates as possible. He might make it a series."

"How tacky," you say, but the information clanks around in your brain like shoes in a washing machine. The indulgent, clickbaity headline just falls together perfectly—I Went On 50 First Dates So You Don't Have To. Exactly the kind of article your mom sees on Facebook and sends to you.

"You have to admit it's a decent idea. Not as good as yours, but it'll get engagement," is Seungkwan's reply, but you can barely hear it over the swell of another sitcom-esque laugh, this time, from a woman. "The other editors are very invested in this whole thing, by the way. Of course, I'm betting on you."

You're about to very openly stress about people gambling on your success when your eyes wander to the backside of the Sports Illustrated model getting napkins at the counter. Not bad at all, you think. It may be too early for the comedy club, but appreciating the male figure has no schedule.

And then he turns around, and you're able to see past the curly hair, muscle tee, beauty pageant smile—it's none other than Choi Seungcheol, fully outfitted with the audacity to trespass on your bagel place. You have never been more disgusted by your heterosexuality.

You hide behind your computer screen.

"Helloooo?" comes Seungkwan on the line. "Are you making out with your breakfast or something?"

"Seungkwan, I gotta go," you hiss. Your eyes follow Seungcheol as he makes his way back to his table. "There's a…situation."

You watch him sit across from a beautiful girl in a sundress and Prada sunglasses, and her lips tumble into a brilliant red smile.

It would be really fucking funny if he was on a date, you think, but then you see him make the kind of eyes you last saw in the deepest, stickiest recesses of a frat house on thirsty Thursday. Then you realize he is on a date, that he's been on a date, and it's his laugh that is equally annoying as it is loud.

Seungkwan works hard, but the devil always works harder.

"Ok, talk to you later. Bye!" You can hear the beginning of one of Seungkwan's protests, but you hang up before he's able to properly complain. Maybe you'll have to do a little better than Momofuku—that's a problem for later.

Over the rim of your laptop, you catch glimpses of their conversation. You notice Seungcheol talks a lot with his hands, and you wonder if that's another one of his tips or if that's just him. Him and those big clown hands, illustrating a story that you're unfortunately too far away to hear.

But you can hear her laugh again, and you try to guess what he's talking about. His childhood dog. The insurmountable burden of being prom king and captain of the football team. This little not-competition and this little not-rivalry between the two of you. How the PB&J bagel is the best thing on the menu (it's not, but you see the berry compote all over his fingers and you know that's the hill he's dying on).

No matter how you spin it, it's a hard pill to swallow. Choi Seungcheol is good at what he does, and there's nothing you can do to stop it.

You hear the careening lilt of what seems to be Seungcheol whining, and there's a brief flash of something like endearment in your stomach before the repulsion sets in.

Nothing you can do to stop him, huh?

The question, sinister and burning, writhes in your brain as you chew on the ice from your coffee and stare at a blank Word document, the cursor blinking like a heartbeat.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Beware the wrath of a woman scorned.

It's number 3 on Seungcheol's article titled Revenge and Other Stories. Unsurprisingly, he must not practice what he preaches, because you currently have all nine circles of Dante's Inferno inside you right now.

Play nice, Jeonghan had told you. Looks better to upper management.

And you did, until one of your photo requests mysteriously got deleted. Then Joshua told you to cut 500 words from this week's column because Seungcheol's just "happened" to be a little longer this time.

The knockout punch was yesterday when Seungcheol told you he was using your January critic's choice pick to take Wonwoo out for a friendly dinner, his treat. If you had known, you would've called ahead and told them to poison the hamachi. (No matter. Any foodie worth their salt knows Thursday is the worst day for sushi).

Now you sit on the C train, dressed to the nines, because you have a date with destiny at Nai. Sometimes destiny is a big pan of paella for one, but this time, it's Seungcheol and his next victim on date night.

Getting him there was so easy, it was almost criminal. An obnoxiously loud elevator phone call in which you name dropped the executive chef, a friend of yours, at least four times. Seungkwan very strategically asking you if a press pass can bypass reservations for a booked-out restaurant. Gossip in the break room with the intentional use of "intimate," "sangria drunk," and "affordable."

Affordable was a lie, but you're learning quickly that a hungry fish will take any bait. And seeing Seungcheol's face is never a joy, but you're not opposed to watching him open the menu for the first time.

"I have a killer Spanish accent," Seungcheol told you on the way out today.

Hook, line, and sinker.

The subway car rumbles under you. You're almost in East Village. You don't normally spend your Friday nights crashing dates—you actually don't really spend them outside your apartment at all, but Seungcheol is the exception to the rule and you're making a lot of them for him. A small price to pay for the glory of dethroning Casanova.

The plan is to "accidentally" run into Seungcheol and his Friday night exploit, and then to casually, non-bitterly mention a, that she is about to become a statistic, b, that his idea of chivalry was birthed in the basement of the Alpha Omega house, and c, that you're surprised he's still single because you always happen to catch him on dates. Something like that.

This is admittedly the best you could come up with. Like you said, you don't really crash dates. You don't really sabotage people either, but Seungcheol declared war the minute his Folgers breath hit your face outside Wonwoo's office.

Then you think of all the ways things can absolutely backfire. Seungcheol's warm, carefree whirl of laughter when he explains you're office rivals, or worse, lies and says you're nothing but a jilted, jealous ex. Or this whole thing could simply be immortalized in his winning article as a jaunty sentence about making the most out of a bad situation, yada yada yada.

You picture watching another girl, spellbound, as you dig into your table-for-one paella.

In your mind's eye, she laughs, floaty like his date at the bagel place, and for a moment you understand what it might feel like to want Choi Seungcheol.

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Friday night at Nai is red and glittering and heady with saffron.

You remember when you first ate here, two weekends after the soft open, early in your career at the paper. After a three hour conversation over wine and octopus with the owner, you wrote the restaurant a glowing review that, to your surprise, helped land it several ritzy awards. Now the dining room is never empty, but they always find space for you.

That was the first time you learned that all of this work meant something. Yeah, you loved an excuse to stuff your face and get paid for it, but what was even better was the chance to tell the stories of a working father's hand-pulled noodles, the drunk, midnight origins of a tasting menu, the caramel-greedy fingers of a well-loved childhood.

This is the long way of explaining how you bypass the two hour standby wait time, and how you walk in on a first name basis with the manager.

You're fully prepared to see Seungcheol mid-churro, perhaps four pick-up lines deep and wondering if he still has a condom in his wallet.

That's why you almost miss him on your way to your table. His is empty, other than a lonely, watered down martini on the rocks and two menus.

"Seungcheol?"

He looks up at you, and something like genuine surprise melts into relief, then intrigue.

"Look at who crawled out of her dungeon," he chuckles. "You clean up good."

Whatever pity you may have felt for him vaporizes instantly. Although, when he beckons for you to sit in the empty seat across from him, you do take the bait—you're not about to pass up a good opportunity to humble your least formidable foe.

"Refreshing to see that our love guru isn't above dining solo," you reply. "I have to admit, your acting is impressive. What an elaborate ruse to get another poor, single diner to pity you enough to sit with you."

"It worked, didn't it?" He takes a sip of his cocktail, which is almost a brand new drink because it's 90% water, 10% martini by now.

"I'm no expert, but pretending to get stood up is not a tip I would give the general public."

"Who said I was pretending?"

No fucking way. Your jaw drops. It's too unreal to believe. Even if the slutty cut of Seungcheol's shirt wasn't persuasive enough, surely the prospect of enjoying a free Michelin star dinner would warrant an appearance, even for you. Breaking News: New York's Hottest Bachelor Ghosted at Top Restaurant. If only that were as wonderful to the average reader as it is to you.

Because waiters are trained to enter conversations at the best possible time, you're forced to pause and order a wine for the table and some tapas. (No paella for one? Seungcheol asks, and you try to reconcile your annoyance with the fact that one, he's read your review of this place, and two, that he looks mildly turned on that you can pronounce all the menu items. You tell the waiter to add a paella.)

"You got stood up?" You cross your arms over your chest. "You may think I'm dumb, but I'm not that dumb."

"You have no idea how flattering your reaction is." He laughs, and the air shifts around him, drawing you further into his eyes, inky under the lowlight. "I understand you think I'm irresistible, but, alas, not everyone shares your opinion."

"I never said that."

You hate how easy it is for him to push your buttons. You hate how in control he is, and you hate how he's looking at you like you're on the menu.

The waiter returns with the wine, and you decide you're feeling equally as terrible.

"Truly, you can't be that irresistible. After all this time writing about relationships, you would think you'd actually be in one."

Touché, you think. Normally, it would be too low a blow, even for you, except that his column-related debauchery is one of the four thrilling conversation topics he subjects you to at the office. And who are you to bury the lede?

"Coaches don't play," Seungcheol says, leaning back and popping the martini olive in his mouth offensively, as if he's not at a restaurant that takes months to get a good table at.

"Bullshit." You lean forward and chase his gaze. He doesn't shy away; rather, he meets you with an appraising raise of an eyebrow. "Coaches should at least know how to throw the ball."

"What do you think we're doing right now?"

"Oh, please." Your wrist twitches as you fight the urge to down your entire glass of merlot in a single gulp. You picture the title of his next article: Top 10 Ways To Get A Woman Drunk. And then the oh so charming punchline: 1. Be so insufferable she cannot last a conversation without her real life partner, wine.

"See? I've already got you laughing." He notices the generous sip missing from your glass and tops you up.

"No, you do not get to make this about me."

Somehow, you are laughing, but you chalk it up to the spiteful little man in your brain writing headlines for Seungcheol's column.

How To Antagonize Your Date In 5 Easy Steps.

"Need I remind you I'm only here because your actual date stood you up? Too soon?"

"I prefer you anyway," he answers, his expression half-challenge, half-something else that you don't really want to think about.

"Crazy, because I'd rather be literally anywhere else."

Signs You Are In A Hostage Situation, Not A Date.

"You should stick to food. You're a bad liar." He cocks his head to the empty table next to him. "It's still open if you want it."

"I'm no quitter."

Maybe The Male Gaze Isn't So Bad: A Thinkpiece.

Definitely not that one.

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"So, before I try anything," Seungcheol says, leaning across the table. "Teach me how to be a food critic."

"Why, so you can steal my job?"

"You can keep it," he laughs. "I'm gonna be your boss, not your replacement."

You notice he'll linger on the tail end of his sentences, betting on the response you haven't even come up with yet. He's picking apart the furrow of your brow, the marrow of your brain. It's like one drawn out interview, but you suppose that's all dating really is. Maybe your journalism degree wasn't a waste of money after all.

You won't give him the satisfaction of a fight (plus, you don't want the food to get cold), so you change the subject.

"Well, I take pictures first," you say, waving away his overeager fork.

"Genius. They really scammed you out of your Pulitzer, huh?"

You ignore him in lieu of repositioning the chorizo. Unfortunately, Seungcheol is unrelenting. You hear the snap of his phone camera, clearly taking a photo of you and not the meal—clever, but you won't bite.

"Wanna be in my story? I can tag you."

In your periphery hovers his wry, wanting smile.

"Sure. So the world can know I'm a charity worker too."

He whistles, clutching his heart. If he weren't so annoying, you would find him a little cute. Just a little. You blame the kitchen for whatever aphrodisiac is in the food today.

"Live update: date with food critic going about as well as an episode of Hell's Kitchen."

He says this leaning forward, elbows on the table, so close to you that your knees might touch. You tense at the thought.

"Any date of mine would be on better behavior."

"So you're admitting this is a date?"

"This," you wave your hand over the table. "This is not a date. This is me regretting ever pitying you."

"Well, pity looks good on you."

And there it is again, that accursed, perfect smile. This time, it works, and you fight the losing battle of the wine flush undoubtedly all over your face. It bothers you that there's a little part of you that enjoys this, but that's a confession you plan on taking to the grave.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, because you're not getting any again."

"Fine. I'm still waiting for your grand secret," he says, now biting the tines of his fork like an untrained dog. No rest for the weary, you suppose. "Food is food. Prove me wrong."

Despite the betrayal of your basal human instincts, you're determined to make this a bad encounter. Maybe you hadn't anticipated the full force of Seungcheol's overgrown fratboy persona, but you came here for a reason and you do plan to see it through.

"There is no secret." You split apart an empanada, the guts steaming and fragrant. "You eat."

"Like this?" He crams an entire piece in his mouth, and you watch him recoil and huff the heat out. "Mmm, 's pretty good, though."

Your eyes almost roll back far enough to see the wrinkles of your brain. Of course he wouldn't get it, but you don't know what you were expecting from a guy who thinks Hot Pockets are fine dining.

You put on your most pretentious food critic face. "Eating is about respect. Storytelling. He's retelling the first time someone made him this dish. The ingredients—they're words on a page. An autobiography." Your hand finds your chest and you sigh, a final touch to your Oscar winning melodrama that would certainly annoy anyone with even half a brain.

"Huh. Poetic," he says. He's still fanning his (very full) mouth, but he chews a little more slowly. "I'm respecting. I'm taking it in."

You don't know if he's actually doing any of that, but, when he takes his next bite he asks about what's in it (tomato, raisin, egg) and if someone really made the chef an empanada when he was younger (yes, on the flour-printed counter, every Sunday morning).

You press on. It shouldn't take much to bore him, but with every question, food-related factoid, and snide comment you have, he matches you with genuine curiosity. Either he's an excellent actor or he's secretly culinary school-bound, because you can't actually imagine anyone putting up with any of that, nonetheless I like dick jokes and football Choi Seungcheol.

You spend the rest of the evening like this, spoon to heart to cherry mouth. The wine is abundant, and Seungcheol spends more time listening than talking, which he admits is a first for him.

"You really know a lot about food," he says, likely fighting the urge to use his finger to get the last of the chocolate sauce off the churro plate. "I like that."

It's a cheap compliment in a game of low blows, but it sits warm and content in your chest. You have to force yourself back to the night you met him, when he was all cognac and one-liners and he gave you his spare hotel room key. A good reminder of his true nature, you think, despite the fact that he just listened to you talk about all the different grains of rice, ad nauseum.

"It's my job," is your reply, adequately distant for your liking.

"Fair. You gonna ask me about mine?"

"What more is there to know?" You hold up the check. "You're paying, right? Chivalry and all that?"

You're waiting for him to mention the company card, the only one allocated to your section that Seungcheol couldn't possibly have because it's sitting snug in your purse. The one you'll say you conveniently forgot so you get to see a grown man squirm at paying the bill.

"Already did. Gave the host my card when I got here. You're holding the customer copy." His chuckle disappears under the lip of his wine glass. "Bet you were excited to use the company card, huh?"

If shame were a physical object, you feel like your own personal Atlas. Your only option is to stare at the wasteland of empty plates before you and wonder how deep Seungcheol's pockets really are.

"Hardly. More excited that I burned a hole in your wallet." You click your tongue, out of options on how to ruin Seungcheol's night. You would spill wine on him but there's none left. "Anyway, I'm heading out."

"Running away?"

"Bored," you lie.

He calls you a taxi, and you walk out together, night heavy with the rhinestone glare of Friday night traffic.

"I actually had a nice time tonight," Seungcheol says, emphasis on the actually.

"Unfortunate."

"How do you think I feel?"

The taxi pulls to the curb, and he sighs, weighty with exaggerated relief. You can't even take it seriously because he's looking right at you and badly failing to push down the smile at the corners of his mouth.

It's only now that you notice his eyes are really brown, like he's from a cartoon or something. Worse, you'd daresay they're nice, less menacing, when they're tempered by a good meal and semi-public humiliation.

"Text me when you get back to your villain lair."

"If I were a real villain, you would have a lot more to worry about."

Seungcheol opens the cab door for you, and you catch a whiff of the cologne he undoubtedly smeared on in the toothpaste-streaked mirror of his five by five studio bathroom. Pine, leather, and citrus, which is the most pedestrian combination of smells to exist and yet you doubt it hasn't done him any favors.

"I'm terrified. Shaking." You clamber into the backseat, and he smiles at you again, as if you've forgotten what all his other ones looked like. "By the way—"

You have half a mind to shut the door in his face, but you can't find it within you—maybe it's the wine, or perhaps pure defeat. Probably the former.

"This job. It's—" He clicks his tongue and looks at the tops of his leather shoes. He's actually thinking, and you don't like it. "Never mind. See you Monday."

And then the words are gone. He shuts the cab door, and they're left in a plume of exhaust and Seungcheol's tiny waving figure in the rearview mirror.

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"So you're telling me you went on a date with your worst enemy."

It's 8 AM, and Jeonghan isn't pulling punches. Even through the phone, you can see his lazy grin, the pen he's flipping in his hand, the green ribbon of the Dow Jones on his desktop.

The newsroom is refreshingly near empty, except for Joshua, who hovers around the water cooler like a fly on the wall, if flies wore Armani ties and cigarette jeans.

"It wasn't a date, and I wanted to ruin it so he would have nothing to write about."

"No one goes on a date to ruin it. You could have just left."

"Clearly you haven't seen How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days."

"Are you serious." Jeonghan laughs, crackly and bright. "Care to tell me how that movie ends?"

"Except he isn't Matthew Mcconaughey. He says spaghetti like pah-scetti and doesn't use Oxford commas."

Mid-laugh, you endure another beat of extended eye contact with your editor until he beckons you over. He'd likely been waiting for the perfect time to interrupt the conversation he was so subtly eavesdropping on—oh, how you love a newsroom with an "open floor plan" to "facilitate communication." Sometimes you think the reason Joshua's stuck around this long is because reporters can't stay away from drama, especially if they're not the ones reporting it.

"I gotta go," you tell Jeonghan, whose version of a goodbye is a triumphant cackle.

You find Joshua putzing around, plastic water cup incriminatingly full.

"I take it you had an enjoyable weekend?" he asks, eyes sequined with all the secrets they hold.

"Yup. Just working on that Dining Through The Years article." Not entirely a lie—you are hedging your bets on this story, one where you revisit the restaurants you wrote about when you first got your start at the paper (Nai included, although admittedly yesterday's food was the least of your concerns). "You needed me?"

"Glad to see New York's finest chefs are well-versed in Kate Hudson's filmography," he says, grinning something beastly. If he weren't your boss, you'd knock that little water cup clean out of his hand. "Anyway, if your interview is over, I need you to go on a field trip."

"Field trip?"

Surely you're better than a task for the interns. You wonder if they're off fighting their own demons, seeing as you missed the circus in the elevator this morning, the usual juggle of hazelnut lattes and lemon poppyseed muffins for the higher-ups.

"Wonwoo needs you to help pick out catering for the corporate event later next week." Joshua tips his head back at Wonwoo's glass-plated office, where you see him redoing his tie in the reflection of his computer monitor. "My guess is that Yerim is going to be there, and he wants to make a good impression. Like an 'I consulted a food expert' impression."

Classic gossip queen Hong Joshua, always with the unnecessary but incredibly cogent commentary on office politics. You think you're actually going to miss the bastard.

"Flattered," you remark dryly. "Catering from where?"

"That's the thing. It's from this Thai place like two hours out from the city."

Two hours: code for an all day endeavor. He wasn't kidding when he said field trip.

You graciously resist the urge to groan out loud. No one told you taking the high road is one big slog through the mud, but here you are. You tell yourself this will help your campaign to be editor—the stinky, dirt-smeared silver lining.

"Before you ask—yes, I know you cannot take the subway there." You blink at him, wondering why this all feels like the set-up to a terrible joke. "Luckily, as you probably know, Seungcheol drives here every day and has offered to help."

Ah. There it is. You look for the blinking applause sign hanging above your head and the chorus of riotous Seungcheols making up your own personal laugh track.

"Only back to the office, though—" Joshua adds, as if that provides you any solace. "There's a one-way bus going up there at noon."

"N-not both ways?" you croak.

"Something about funds," he replies, shrugging. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger."

"You're not the one I'm thinking of shooting."

"Who knows? Maybe he is Matthew McConaughey." And when your glare turns sharp as the edge of a santoku knife, he holds his hands up like he's getting arrested. "I'm just saying. As your friend, not your editor."

Whatever.

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You have to admit, Wonwoo does have impeccable taste in Thai food.

Three noodle dishes, two curries, and the best mango sticky rice you've ever had: that's what it took for you to finally say "not all men." Certainly not Wonwoo, who's in deep enough to send his goons cross-state for a girl he's tried to woo for almost a whole year now.

A tamarind sunset blankets the countryside in milk and honey. You're sitting on a bench, ridiculously full with leftovers to spare, waiting for your chauffeur from hell.

Two years and you still don't know what car Seungcheol drives. Your last memory of it is it being flashy, impractical, and loud, much like him.

You know this, and yet you are still surprised when a gnat of a BMW rips into the curb in front of you. The passenger window crawls down, and Seungcheol has the gall to whistle at you.

For someone so predictable, he sure does manage to find new ways to piss you off. Unfortunately, on brand— according to him, Consistency Is Key (number 2 on Keeping the Spark Alive, August 2022 issue). You've done your reading.

"You're welcome," is the first thing Seungcheol says to you after cranking down the volume of the radio and watching you fumble with the seatbelt.

"You really didn't have to." You look at the array of gas station snacks bubbling out of the cupholders—Sour Patch Kids, a Big Gulp, and Flamin’ Hot Fritos. You didn't even know they sold Sour Patch Kids to full grown adults.

Still, you do feel a little bad. You can count on one hand the amount of people you would do this for and still have one or two cheese-dusted fingers left.

"But, thank you."

"Joshua made me," he says, and what happened this morning starts to make a lot more sense. "Plus, I was a little jealous. I would kill for a day frolicking in the sun, eating delicious food, far, far away from the big city. Not trapped like me in the newsroom, exhausted, toiling away on my magnum opus."

The sigh that crawls from his chapped lips practically shakes the car.

"I'm retracting my thank you."

"I'm devastated. Really."

You choose to watch the strip of shitty New York highway unravel through the greasy passenger window. No point in picking a fight when you're in a leather quilted jail cell for the foreseeable future.

It's at the thirty minute mark where Seungcheol casts the first stone of terrible, stilted small talk.

"Why'd you get sent all the way out here anyway?"

The red taillight flush of rush hour floods the car, an unpleasant reminder of the real sunset left far behind you.

"Thought you knew it was Wonwoo."

"Yeah, but why?"

Why does it matter? Is your first thought, but you realize he's attempting to actually have a genuine conversation with you, which you suppose is better than him flinging around another rude remark. Either that, or he's falling asleep, and you'd rather not have the last moments of your life be in Seungcheol's chick magnet car.

"Joshua thinks it's because he wants to impress Yerim at the corporate meeting this week. I guess she likes Thai."

Traffic is slow enough for him to turn to look at you, really look at you.

"Come on, he can't like her that much."

"Yes, he can." you try to read his expression, neon-glossy. "This isn't even that much effort."

"Nah," he shrugs. "There's gotta be some kind of ulterior motive. Maybe he wants to move into corporate."

"Hot take for a romantic." You frown. "Not everything people do is a career move, you know."

You omit the unlike you that sits heavy in the back of your throat, although, his cavalier approach to relationships is starting to make a little more sense. You wonder if this whole thing—the dates, the watch, the Invisalign smiles—is just a long, drawn-out joke to him.

"Seems like a lot of effort to go through for an office crush." His gaze drifts back to the road. "The extravagant birthday present. Always having her favorite flowers in the office. That one cringe voicemail we all heard him re-record ten times. No one likes anyone that much. Come on. Her dad is the CEO of the company."

Suddenly his winning smile doesn't seem so triumphant. It almost feels like a betrayal, but you don't know why.

"Maybe he just likes her," you reply. "I dunno. I choose to believe that. I think it's sweet."

"Maybe you're the romantic." The words come out like an accusation; Seungcheol laughs, but all the joy's been sucked out of it.

"Who hurt you?"

"No one did. I'm just being honest."

You would laugh at the irony if it didn't feel like there was a vine wrapped round your throat. Life is funny, but never so funny as to curse New York's favorite romance writer with cynicism and a lying streak.

"Controversial, but I actually want to do nice things for the person I like."

"And when was the last time that happened?" He's deflecting, which is predictably on brand for him. His grin, now playful, is propped up by a pair of frustratingly well-formed dimples.

You can't even find it within you to protest because he's right—you haven't dated in a long time. Joshua stopped asking if you were bringing a plus one to office parties ages ago.

But it's not that you can't—in fact, the last time you did, you think it broke you a little inside. It's certainly not a story Seungcheol's privy to, though. You already feel strange, cut-open, trying to convince him that people are capable of meaningful relationships.

Childishly, there's also a part of you chasing the truth about him because it takes him further and further away from you. So you do what you do best and deflect again. Two can play at that game.

"Not taking criticism from a guy who's dated half of the city and has nothing to show for it."

"I wouldn't say nothing."

He opens his mouth then closes it again, as if he's revising the words on his tongue. Journalist behavior, which you didn't even know he could still exhibit.

Now you're really thinking. Who hurt him, and how? The development that Seungcheol is more than the playboy slime haunting page 3 intrigues you more than you'd care to admit.

Before you can pry, Seungcheol's stomach growls, almost offensively loud.

"Sorry," he says. "Who would've thunk that corn chips aren't a balanced meal?"

You stare at the takeout boxes snug in your lap. There is a cosmic message being sent right now.

Seungcheol's sad, Frito-filled belly. Fresh noodle that won't keep well in the fridge. Tax and tip for a four hour car ride back to the city. Expanding your repertoire of blackmail so that you can claim your rightful helm at the paper.

These are all the reasons you give yourself for what you ask next.

"You in a rush?"

"How could I be—do you see the blinding speed we're driving at?" He laughs at his own incredibly unfunny attempt at a joke. "No, I'm not."

"I may or may not have an actual balanced meal for you."

That’s how you end up in the parking lot of a random 7/11 off the freeway. In any other circumstances, it would be a cruel and unusual punishment, but you've already been whittled down enough to actually care about Seungcheol, even if just a little.

That's what you tell yourself, anyway, as you watch him finish the last of the takeout.

"So I'm bad at food, and you're bad at love. Why the fuck did Wonwoo even think of promoting either of us?" Seungcheol kicks his shoes off and props his feet up on the dashboard. You notice his socks have dogs on them, little linty brown ones, and you feel a little worse about openly bullying him about his fashion taste in front of the entirety of copy staff.

"I may be bad at love, but you're worse. Especially for someone who does it for a living," you retort. "Don't think I forgot our earlier conversation."

You try to read the tiny text on a receipt he's got stashed in the center console, among his graveyard of snack wrappers. (2) CHEESY GORDITA CRUNCH…8.78. (1) M MT DEW BAJA BLAST…1.00.

Definitely bad at food, you muse to yourself.

"You think I'm not kicking myself right now? That I have a beautiful girl in my car right now, and all we do is argue?"

Now that—nothing could have prepared you for that.

It gets awfully quiet. The noise of the freeway seems to screech to a fever pitch, all horns and the thrum of the asphalt. You wish anything but John Mayer was playing on the radio.

You will the headlines man in your head to make you laugh. Instead, your brain presses the word beautiful into your neurons and you feel all the heat in your body float to your face, traitorously, dizzyingly. John Mayer croons, your body is a wonderland and your stomach knots into itself over and over again.

"Stop that."

"What?" Seungcheol's head lolls to his shoulder so he can look at you from the corner of his eye. " 's not a big deal. Never been called beautiful?"

A grin plays on his lips, expression dancing on something grim, like he's spoken his final words.

"I'm serious! Stop trying to get me to like you." You huff and cross your arms over your chest, like it'll somehow make you feel more normal. "I'm not some experiment for your column."

"Is it working?"

You don't answer. How can you? There's a yes resting on the roof of your mouth, surely the product of the handful of real, actual moments you've now had with him—far too many for your liking. This whole charade has been a balancing act on the razor edge between rivals and something else, and now you're feeling the sting.

"For the record, I have been called beautiful before."

"And for the record, you're not an experiment for my column. You never were."

There's a relief that pulses through your chest, a breathless, wonderful kind of dizziness. You grab hold of it as soon as it's reared its ugly head. You're flying way too close to the sun, chasing cheap validation from the same guy who ate your lunch out of the fridge last week.

He's no better—he looks like the vulnerability cracked him open a little, and you're the one holding the hammer. It makes for a grubby, unflattering portrait of two emotionally inept people trying to play feelings.

However, much like all other things Seungcheol, any glimpse of something real is gone before you know it. He takes a loud, noisy pull of Diet Coke, and the spell is broken.

"Want any?" And when you shake your head, grateful to swallow the words pressed to your tongue, he says, "Should we wait out traffic here?"

This is an easier yes. You tell yourself you're getting sick of brake lights and reading the license plates on the back of other people's cars. Certainly that makes Seungcheol's gaze, lingering and moonlight-warmed, a little more tolerable.

For once, you don't talk about Wonwoo or your job. You don't talk about love, either.

Maybe this is the reason the next few hours slip through your fingers. Three folded takeout pagodas and a secret—somehow this is all it takes for you to hate Seungcheol just a little less.

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Usually, a good eggs benedict can solve the majority of your problems. Today seems to be the exception. The hollandaise is broken, Jeonghan is already laughing at you, and nothing will ever erase the fact that Seungcheol drove you home last night and now he knows where you live. If you wake up one morning and see a sniper laser pointed at your forehead, you have no one to blame but yourself.

"You look exhausted." An eighth of a buckwheat pancake disappears into Jeonghan's mouth. "You literally eat for a living. There is no reason for them to keep you late."

Jeonghan has a funny way of caring about you, but he's right. You did get home at 2 AM yesterday, but that was on you, not Wonwoo.

"I'm not going to let a corporate slug tell me what is and isn't a real job," you sigh, taking a swig of your half-flat mimosa and reminding yourself to figure out which staff writer gave this place 4 stars in last week's paper.

"Says the girl who needs the company card to afford bottomless brunch," Jeonghan replies.

"At least I'm not a slave to my career."

"What do you call this whole thing with your coworker then, huh? It's all you text me about." The smirk on Jeonghan's face is miserably, tragically righteous, and you can't even be mad about it.

"Seungcheol is my enemy, remember?"

"You sent me a five minute voice memo the other day ranting about how he went on a date with another girl." And just like the little shit he is, he even pulls up your mile-long text history, just to rub it in your face a little harder.

"Am I not allowed to wish for his demise? Since when were you the mature one?"

"I wouldn't call keeping track of his whereabouts wishing for his demise." Jeonghan takes a well-timed bite of your hashbrowns. "Something tells me you're wishing for something a little different."

You almost choke on a blueberry.

"Absolutely not."

You watch Jeonghan power down another mimosa, half-fascinated, half-appalled he would even dream of suggesting something so vile.

The memory of Seungcheol, leant back in the driver’s seat, lowering greasy spools of rice noodles into his mouth, crosses your mind. He had laughed until he cried when he asked you if a pineapple had really fried this rice. That was the kind of man you were dealing with. You can't believe you laughed with him.

"I think it'll be good for you to get back into dating again. Mingyu was, what, three years ago?"

And that's the chocolate chip studded, syrup-covered nail in your coffin. Of course all roads had to lead back to you and your relationship trauma Jeonghan considered unresolved.

You had dated Mingyu when you were younger, softer. It was a love of firsts, of sun-washed mornings and farmer's market Sundays, of raw, black currant midnights and whatever long-winded conversation you had spent all day on.

Mingyu was a chef. His hands, his lips, his eyes—that's how you fell in love with food. Strawberry kisses into fresh pasta into the first time someone had ever cooked for you. What a wonderful, terrible thing to see all your history on a plate, the I could never eat peas, the once I ate mangos till I was sick, the guilty spoon in the vanilla ice cream after a bad day and the dark chocolate you keep in your purse. He remembered that you like your noodles just a little bit overcooked, and you don't even think you told him that.

Food, like some shitty piece of home decor would say in that swirling, curly font, really is some window to the soul. It didn't fully hit you until, one day, you were at the grocery store alone, and somehow you knew exactly what brand of everything Mingyu liked.

You opened a restaurant together after you graduated from college. Then it closed, and you lost Mingyu to Naples or New Orleans or Seoul—somewhere, anywhere to escape the corner of 5th and 40th, the December-pleated memory of his hands in yours and a promise you could never keep.

You're sure you're over it by now, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't look for him in a bowl of his favorite ramyun, the one you could never replicate even though he insisted he just added hot water (Food tastes best when it's a gift, he'd say. You never understood until now.).

Jeonghan doesn't believe you because every time you try explaining this to him, you end up sounding like the most chronically lonely person on planet Earth.

"That is the wrong guy to suggest then," you instead reply, feeling all the food dry up in your mouth.

"I'm running out of options."

"Don't you have a hot coworker or something?"

You shut your eyes, pushing Mingyu back to recall literally any face from one of the many swanky corporate parties Jeonghan bullied you into attending. The only person coming to mind is Lee Chan, and even more than his face, you remember the fat platinum band around his ring finger (Better luck next time, Jeonghan had said, mid-cheese cube).

Worse, amidst all the fuzz, a grainy recollection of Seungcheol's wet cow eyes washes up against your eyelids, and it's not going away this time.

"I thought we were all corporate slugs," Jeonghan replies, enjoying the way you glower at him over your fork. "I was kidding, anyway. Relax."

Your entire body heaves with the sigh that escapes you.

You thank god that Jeonghan is never serious, because otherwise you'd have to consider the fact that he really thought you should date Seungcheol. Jeonghan, who knows the pizza column you, the Mingyu you, and now the you that works late because there's nothing else left to do, really might have thought you should date grifter by day, con artist by night Seungcheol.

The fluorescent glaze of the gas station lights. Seungcheol's hand on the gear stick. His voice, warm and gauzy. It's like there's a flash drive of last night plugged into your head, and you can't take it out.

The stem of the champagne glass finds your hand, and you down the whole thing.

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Monday is uneventful. So is Tuesday, and you wonder what good deed you'd done to deserve such a blessing.

Wednesday, you realize you're just three interviews away from what could possibly be the best article of your life. Unfortunately, two of those won't pick up the phone and the third keeps rescheduling on you.

That's fine—Rome wasn't built in a day, and the same hopefully applies to your future noodle empire.

You're using your lunch break to write an email to number two when you notice Seungcheol hovering around your desk, a plastic straw in his mouth and evil in his eyes.

He's taken to publicly annoying you at work more than usual—Progress, Joshua had told you in the elevator this morning. Towards what? you had asked. He shrugged, letting his crafty, knowing look do all the talking.

"Me, you, and date number two?" is today's opening line. Before you can peel yourself away from your computer and give him a good lashing for whatever the fuck he just said to you, he continues with, "How's that for a follow-up text to my speakeasy date?"

"Lame," you reply, hackles still raised but now re-reading your email for typos.

"Wrong. You were supposed to say incredibly romantic, extremely witty, and unfairly charming." He perches his baseball player ass on the corner of your desk, waiting to be humbled. This is the usual order of things, which has shockingly become more of a familiarity than anything else.

"Do you even have a romantic bone in your body?"

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. "Just one, but it's the only one that matters."

"Ew. Gross." You wrinkle your nose and attempt to soothe your temper with a sip of the terrible protein shake you got for lunch. "No wonder your column sucks."

"If mine sucks, I'd hate to see what people are saying about yours." And when your reply is a tired, hungry swig of your sad drink, he says, "No lunch today? Even I had something better."

"Lucky you."

The bigger truth is that that the deadline for your article, looming before you, is getting to you more than you'd care to admit. Seungcheol isn't helping, not with his bottomless magic hat of date stories that seems to only grow deeper by the day. Now you're forgetting to pack a lunch, and the highlight of your day has been reduced to punching numbers into a vending machine.

Things are bad, but you'll never say that aloud, especially not to the guy who'll spend the next five years dunking on you if you keep this up.

You stare down the lip of your bottle at the faux-chocolate dregs streaking the bottom.

The month before Mingyu opened his restaurant, you were so preoccupied with making sure everything was just right that you also forgot to eat. One day, leftovers from his work started magically appearing in your fridge. Chow fun (miss you!), salt and pepper shrimp (don't forget to drink water!), a gargantuan vat of hot and sour soup (love you most!).

It was a perfect coincidence until you realized there was no way Chinese takeout was coming out of a very French restaurant, and it was then you learned that love is never really a coincidence.

Now you have no coincidences, mapo tofu, or romance. Just muscle milk and a front row view of the struggling inseam of a man who must shrink his pants in the dryer.

He's peeling a tangerine. Your worst confession to date is that it's easy on the eyes. For once, his hands, always made busy with some scheme, now still over the rind, steady, practiced. Plus, it looks like a marble in his huge hands, which is unfortunately both funny and a little hot.

"Stare any longer, and I'm gonna forget how to peel this."

"Don’t flatter yourself. Just hungry," you half-lie.

Hungry, Stressed, And Delusional—The New Holy Trinity.

It's a catchy headline, but not a great look for you. Never in your life did you think you'd be ogling a man peeling an orange. He even takes all the pith off, and you don't have the heart to tell him that's where all the nutrients are.

"Exactly," he replies. Then he plops the naked, shiny fruit right on your bare desk. "Here. Eat."

You’re so taken aback, all you can do is stare. First at the orange, then at Seungcheol, who suddenly cannot make eye contact with you. Instead, he stacks the peel in his hands, dimpled piece over piece.

"Payback for the, uh, Thai," he says, and although you wouldn't equate a tangerine to James Beard awarded pad kee mao, all you can think of is an lime green sticky note in your fridge and a smile.

A gift. A pithless, wrinkly one.

The idea that Seungcheol was capable of being genuinely nice to anyone, nonetheless, you—probably the most undeserving person of it in the world—makes you feel something close to guilt.

You push through the feeling, instead taking the fruit in your hand and splitting it between your thumbs. The flesh caves so easily, and it's then you remember that food, unlike people, doesn't have to be complicated.

You can feel a better person somewhere inside you, someone easier to care for and with less of a bad attitude. You're not there yet, but there's a dark, satisfying comfort in not being good enough for the indulgence of that kind of intimacy. An arm's length was never too far away for you, except now there's someone sitting on your desk and they gave you lunch. Worst of all, you don't think you mind.

You hold out the half—sticky, guilty fingers and all.

Seungcheol wordlessly accepts it. There's no surprise or confusion—he smiles, you say cheers, and you both take a bite.

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On weekends, the Korean place down the street from your college apartment sold corn dogs until 3 AM. That was when words came easy and love came easier.

It was with sugar all over your nose, eyes pressed to the once forgiving half-moon, where you told Mingyu you would become a writer.

The thing about youth is that it can float anything, no matter how holey, desperate it was. So you sailed through college, that gasping hope wound tight in your fist. Then you started freelancing, just in time for Mingyu’s soft open. You wanted to write, but more importantly, you wanted some way, any way to be useful to the person who had given you so much.

In retrospect, there was no way your crude attempts at actual journalism could ever generate real publicity for him. Not in the heart of New York, where a new restaurant opened every two days and someone wanted to get published every three.

So you eventually sank, and so did Mingyu, leaving you with all this creased, no good love in your chest to shrivel up with nowhere to go.

All of that landed you here. A degree, a dream job, and a laundry list of accolades, but the fruit of that love still hangs heavy and joy-rot on the vine, as you wait for it to be good enough for the taking.

Ironically, it reminded you of cooking. No one ever teaches you when to stop, and now every other joint has dry-aged steak and some version of a three-day demi glacé. But at least demi glacé tastes good—you don't even know what the fuck you're doing some days, and the feeling's never been worse than now, waiting on a call you were supposed to get two days ago.

The phone rings, just in time to distract you from the top button of Seungcheol's fitted shirt, which looks like it's holding on for dear life. He's currently deep in conversation with Mina from design, but every so often, he'll glance your way to see if you're just free enough to be bothered.

The unspoken perils of working late—less people around to pester on Wonwoo's dime.

Mina stuffs her laptop in her bag and checks her watch. Strike three for Seungcheol.

Working Hard Or Hardly Working: A Guide To Office Romances. You're surprised he hasn't written that one yet. Maybe Joshua shot it down.

"Hello?" The dial tone breaks into the warm, risen-bread voice of the woman you know to be the owner of one of your favorite hole-in-the-wall noodle spots. The Friday night after your review was published, there was a line out the door. It honestly felt like a no-brainer to you, and you had no hesitation telling the owner that you were sure her place would become a local mainstay. You watched her crow-footed eyes go moony and you couldn't help but picture the day your yellowed newspaper would be posted up on the wall, framed and prophetic.

You're ready to profusely apologize for not stopping by—truthfully, no bone broth has come close to hers. Instead, she apologizes to you, which you aren't sure is flattering or a sign something terrible has happened.

You hope it's the former, but you should have known that hoping has never been enough.

She tells you that she closed the doors to her restaurant yesterday. It all comes spilling out, one gut punch after the other, the bills and the empty tables and how things just weren't the same the year after your review was published. She thanks you for your time, your writing, and your belief, and then she hangs up.

Not a thing in your body feels capable of moving. All the phone static passes right through you until the week's canned up dread balls up in your throat and some darker-than-black feeling swallows you whole.

The fluorescent ceiling lights sear into you. You think you're going to cry, and that's the last thing you want.

To anyone else, it wouldn't be that serious. Restaurants close all the time, and you know an entry in your silly little column is a far cry from a Hail Mary. But all you can think of is Mingyu’s neon sign on 5th and 40th and the two pairs of hands that had to take it down. You think your fingerprints are still on it, right over the blue shock of the I and the N.

One more dream taking on water, and once again, you're at the sad, cruel center of it.

You try to imagine the gumpaste walls, bumpy and water-stained. Maybe a pale square where your review used to hang.

No, you're definitely going to cry.

Fuck this, fuck work, fuck the article. And fuck Seungcheol, who's packing up his annoying, jingly messenger bag and is the only thing standing between you and an empty office to lose your shit in.

You squeeze your eyes shut and try to remember if you're wearing waterproof mascara today. Unfortunately, the cowbell of Seungcheol's bag sounds like it's catching up to you, and, like it or not, you are two shaky breaths away from breaking down in front of the last person in the world you want to see.

"Final touches on another titillating piece about pineapple on pizza?"

You have no stomach for yelling at him. You can't even look at him. Instead, you bury your head in your hands and tell him to never use the word titillating again.

"A little too soon to play editor, in my humble opinion."

You don't reply. You're trying to scare him off without really scaring him off because god knows you've done that with enough people. Either way, he's calling you a crazy bitch at the next holiday party. You can just hear it.

But you should've known Seungcheol, of all people, doesn't flinch at a little silence. You still feel him hovering behind you, probably wondering if it's the half-full vanilla protein shake on your desk that's turned you sour. Or if you'll really make good on your threat to shank him with the plastic knife you keep in your top drawer.

Just walk away, you think. Go the fuck home.

Seungcheol, who gets paid to play cupid like it's fantasy football, would never understand that bite of the dial tone. Not like that. Half an orange is a hell of a toll to pay for your unfortunate work-related trauma.

You count the seconds till he walks away.

One. Two. Three.

Four is cut short because instead of doing what he should have done and left, he places a hesitant hand at the base of your neck, between your shoulder blades.

"Hey, you ok?"

Easy, noncommittal words, but something in you cracks. You don't know what it is—maybe it's because it's late and you're running on nothing, maybe it's because you can't remember the last time a hand was so warm.

And so, against your better judgment, you lift your streaky, raccoon-eyed face (definitely didn't use waterproof today) from your hands to look at the same eyes you looked at not more than a month ago and swore at.

You're glad you have no idea what you look like, because it's bad enough that all the corners of Seungcheol's face fall.

"Whoa," he breathes.

Now he'll know when to leave me alone, you think, but then that hand slides to your shoulder and his expression becomes impossibly soft and what you thought was confusion, pity even, dips into affection, stinging and raw.

"Listen, I—," he clears his throat nervously. Perhaps he's running through his repertoire of Wikihow phrases to say to a sad person, but you, inexplicably, don't believe that. "I don't know what's going on, but if you, you know, ever needed to talk…" Then he points to himself because that's probably the longest he's gone without attempting to tell a joke.

You're two and a half shaky breaths into this conversation, and the likelihood you will start crying has not changed. If anything, the odds have gotten much worse because the stubbornness of Seungcheol's expression is fooling you into thinking he actually cares. The illusion is comforting—after all the fighting and sabotage and inconveniences, he's still made space for you. That, or he's keeping his enemies close.

Then his thumb rubs over the plane of your collarbone, and all the little walls and hurdles and dams and shields in you drop.

Close friends, closer enemies, and the infinitesimal space between you and Seungcheol.

You'll blame your sorry state of mind for what you're about to do because you can't really cope with any other explanation. That's a tomorrow problem.

Today, you trust Seungcheol. Today, you tell him not everything, but enough.

"Forgive yourself," he says. And before you protest and tell him, through the waves of tears and snot and lightheadedness, that your heart has yet to catch up to the rest of you, he interrupts you before you even start. "I get it. Just try."

You’re all too familiar with his sugar-floss, candy-coated platitudes that make everything seem so simple, but he looks you in the eye, or somewhere even deeper than that, with so much belief, it's contagious.

The words are ripped out from under you. All you can do is what you wanted to do in the first place. So you cry, and when Seungcheol takes you into his arms, at first tentatively and then all at once, you cry even harder.

"Is this ok?" he asks, so quietly, you almost don't hear him.

"Yeah, I-I think so."

You let him hold you, and all the noise and the heat and the static fades into a hum. His chin finds the top of your head and you let him do that too.

Neither of you say anything more. You don't need to.

All that matters is the welcome sound of someone else's heartbeat, a kind hand in your hair, and Seungcheol, with none of the charms and boasts and failed, half-baked insults he hides behind.

Just him, and you decide you like this version best.

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The emotional hangover you wake up with rivals that of every vodka-flavored morning you had when you were in college, plus another two shots.

There is nothing worse than the aftermath of a particularly bad episode of oversharing. There's a reason you don't talk about your personal life at all, but something about Seungcheol makes every single thing claw its way back up your throat.

A need to prove yourself. A tiny, whispering hope that if you give a little, you'll get a little in return. Or your pride, the familiar knife you keep wedged into your side. A million excuses rattle around in your head, but nothing will ever take away the fact that it felt good.

Shields down, heart bleeding—never did you think that's how you would find yourself in a state where you actually liked Seungcheol. It felt good to be taken seriously, to say that all the talk about foie gras and peppercorns and microgreens was just tableside service for a great love and an even greater apology. And you'd like to think somewhere between the tears and the linen of his shirt, you were finally understood.

Just try. The words, sun-warmed stones, float in the hollow of your chest. It felt a little more possible, coming out of Seungcheol's mouth, with that dumb, resolute expression of his.

You don't even know if you would do the same for him. If he came to you, rosy-eyed and breakdown-adjacent, would you drop everything and listen to him? Clearly his problems ran deeper than a pretty girl not calling him back, but you had never really cared to listen.

And that's something you'll give Seungcheol credit for—he puts up with you, with everything, really, albeit with clumsy hands and the mask of reluctance.

You roll onto your side to reach for your phone. There's a text from Jeonghan asking if you're still up for grabbing drinks this evening. (Always). You have your final interview at 2. (Thank god).

And no text from Seungcheol. (Damn.)

Somehow this is disappointing, which makes your day that much worse. Maybe the runny mascara wasn't as flattering as you thought.

8 Totally Normal Texts To Send When You're Overthinking.

Not a good headline for a worse situation. Honestly, you shouldn't care, but now you're here, staring at your phone and undecided on if you even want Monday to come or not.

You'll order one (or three) margaritas tonight. You'll ask Jeonghan about his upcoming trip to Seoul. You'll make your favorite overnight oats and you'll go to sleep and Sunday will pass just the same.

You won't think about Seungcheol's arms around you or his head on top of yours or the way he insisted he would drive you to the subway so you didn't have to walk. You almost brushed against his hand on the gear stick and the nearness made you want to throw up.

But you're not thinking about it. You can't. Not without falling in love just a little.

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"Here. Drink."

You set two cups on the table before sitting face-to-face with Seungcheol, who decided to roll up to a coffee date in a somehow flattering polo and slacks.

But it's not a date—you're just talking. It's a meet-up. Not a hangout, which sounds too familiar, and definitely not a date.

Yesterday did not go as planned. Margarita-buzzed and under Jeonghan's terrible influence, you texted Seungcheol. Just to clear up some stuff, you told yourself. Friday night's like a scab, and you just can't help coming back to it.

"So, you're a coffee connoisseur too, huh?" Seungcheol says, tipping his head to the side.

"Not nearly," you reply. "Just wanted to pay for something for once. I'm pretty sure I owe you at least fifty of these."

"I'll hold you to it." He's doing that thing where it's like he stares past you. It's the most impressive eye contact on the planet, and it's making you nervous.

Then the silence, once welcome, becomes awkward—the air turns stiff, clinging to all the things you haven't said yet.

You play chicken with the idea of being an emotionally intelligent person and just talking about what most certainly is on everyone's mind right now. The cup between your hands is burning your palms. Seungcheol smiles.

"I'm—" The exact moment you start, the words crinkle up on your tongue and all the walls come back up again. It's a terrible, inevitable instinct. "I'm sorry. For Friday."

"For…what?" Seungcheol pauses mid-sip to say this. "Also, this coffee is really good."

Arabica, orange, and honey, you want to say. But you can't deflect this time. Somehow Seungcheol has cornered you into this tiny cafe chair with that disarming grin and an overabundance of patience.

"Everything, I guess. You were just trying to leave."

"No, I wasn't." And he laughs, which makes your stomach fold over trying to figure out what there possibly is to laugh at. "I actually liked getting to know you. You…care a lot. And I didn't expect that."

Seungcheol's sincerity staggers you. You could ask what the hell he just meant by all of that, but you decide to take him for his word. You think you've experienced the most honesty from him in the past three days than you have in the entire span of time you've known him, and it almost feels like a privilege.

"Thanks…?"

"Don’t let it go to your head, though," he adds, as if to erase what he just said. "Can't have you walking around the office with a bigger stick in your ass."

"Poetic." You sigh. Once again, the illusion is shattered. You wonder if his kindness has a time limit. "How's your article coming along?"

"Nice try," he replies. "I'm not that easy."

"You're literally the definition of easy."

"Is that a compliment?" There's that challenge in his eyes again, that same look that he gave you outside Wonwoo's office. "You did ask me out on a date, despite saying that you'd rather eat glass. So I guess either there's a half-eaten plate in your trash or you've finally come to your senses."

"This is not a date. Dream on."

"You're right. This isn't a date." He leans forward on his elbows. "Just like our dinner date wasn't a date."

"It wasn't."

"Of course. If it was, I'd be asking stuff like…Where you're from. But I already know—h, e, double hockey—"

"Chicago."

"Same difference."

Your conversation continues as such.

Not a date, but where'd you go to college? Not a date, but do you have a pet? Not a date, but can I walk you home?

You realize your talk in his car two weeks ago involved everything but your pasts, but you suppose neither of you are the type to unwrap old wounds. Sometimes the bandaid is better on, but, in your case, there's really nothing left to tell.

You divulge that you went to Northwestern for journalism. You have a family tabby, and no, you wouldn't mind being walked home.

You also realize before today, you knew less about Seungcheol than you thought, but there's some give to his secrecy. He went to USC because his parents wanted him to. Played football for half of it until he tore his ACL and got adopted by the sports section of the school paper. He even captained the advice column for three semesters—something he wants to return to, but you're happy to tell him you wouldn't trust his advice as far as you could throw him. (What was your alias? Samuel. Sounds kinda like Seungcheol, huh? You say no. He laughs.)

After circling the same park three times, you reach the doorstep of your apartment building. You cycle through some one-liners to end on a high note, but none of them seem quite right.

It's not a date, but you've noticed Seungcheol keeps glancing at your lips, and it almost seems like one.

It's not a date, but Seungcheol asks some stupid question about if coffee could be considered tea, which you start to answer before you are rudely interrupted.

First, the bump of his nose against yours, then his lips, slow, insistent, dizzying. Your heart jumps all the way to your throat and you think there's so much heat in your cheeks that he can feel it.

It's not a date, but Seungcheol just kissed you and you liked it.

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The next time you see Seungcheol is in the elevator to the newsroom on Monday.

He sticks his dumb, big arm out of the cabin to hold the door open for you, and his smile bruises your overripe heart.

"Hi," he says, sneaking a glance like a guilty child.

"Hi."

The floor indicators flicker like fireflies, one by one. He sidesteps toward you so that your shoulders touch. You watch the 4 crawl to 5. The air in the cabin is sticky, electric.

And as if taking a great big dive, you kiss him, a fleeting, tender thing that you rolled around in your head for a good thirty minutes earlier this morning—and you never thought the fruit of overthinking could be so sweet.

The elevator dings.

Before the doors open to your floor, Seungcheol slams the close button, takes your face in his hands, and kisses you again.

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You have three reasons to get drunk.

1. It's Friday.

2. You finished your article.

3. You and Seungcheol are no longer mortal enemies, but now you don't know what you are.

(The other day, you both worked late, and he ordered takeout to the office. You sat crosslegged on his desk as he tried to explain what a touchdown was and why he was obsessed with the Steelers. Normally a two hour long conversation about football would be a punishable offense, but that night he made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt the next day.)

After Wonwoo's dinner with corporate, he went to the market across the street and picked up a few handles of soju and the fattest bottle of cheap vodka you've ever seen.

You're all getting a raise—you guess the Thai must have worked out well, although Wonwoo must have struck out with Yerim since he's spending his Friday night drinking with you guys instead.

So you get drunk.

Drunk enough to tune out of Jihyo from Sports giving Wonwoo dating advice—riveting, if not for your near double vision—and follow Seungcheol to the staff bathroom.

"Anyone—," you manage. His lips are hot on your neck, and every dizzy neuron in your body seems to be reaching, grasping for him. "Anyone ever tell you that your forearms look really good when you roll up your sleeves?"

"All the time," he replies, and he swallows the laugh right off of your tongue.

"You are so annoying." Your palm finds his heartbeat, and you revel in how it leaps towards your skin every hurried beat. You don't want to think about how many girls came before you, leant back against the bathroom counter just like this, but having a body against yours never felt so good. You guess that's what a three year hiatus will do to you. "Bet you hear that one a lot too, huh?"

"You got that right."

Another kiss, just a nudge of his nose and you're leaning up to him; your lips feel swollen and warm and somehow they still crave the feeling.

"How is it that we still bump noses," you ask, half words, half air. Seungcheol's hands, skin-greedy, skim over the back of your thighs like they're water and find the swell of your ass.

"You make me impatient." Cheshire grin across heart lips and you're toast. "Anyone tell you that you have a great ass?"

"All the time," you squeak out. It's a lie and a half but who cares. His fingers drag under the seam of your underwear and you've never been so thankful you forgot to wear shorts under your dress.

"Need you," he says, lips flush to the skin behind your ear, and your lower half would give out if you weren't propped against the sink.

The idea of Seungcheol on his knees, your thigh hiked over his shoulder, crosses your mind. He'd probably be really good at head, and that makes you dizzier than any ungodly combination of alcohol would. Or would he press you against the mirror, want your skirt pushed to your waist so he could fuck you from behind?

Anticipation tumbles into anxiety into some primordial, horrible shyness because you haven't had sex in years. You feel hot and damp and sweaty and you can't remember if you shaved or not. Plus, you're already seizing in his arms and he hasn't even touched you for real yet.

"H-home," you breathe. "Let's go home."

"Hm?" His hand slows in the dip between your thighs. "You wanna stop? We can stop."

"No, I just…I just thought it would be better if we went home. To…you know."

"Yours or mine?"

"Mine’s closer," you answer after a considerable amount of mental gymnastics trying to figure out if you're both drunk enough to not mind the mess.

You know your apartment and you know your bed and you know where the bathroom is in case you have to pee. There's a box of condoms under the sink. You have an extra toothbrush for him. Less variables to worry about because nothing else has really gone to plan. You watch Seungcheol misbutton the top two buttons on his shirt and all the fondness in your heart feels like a welcome stranger in your body.

How To Ruin The Moment In One Easy Step!

You feel incredibly horny and guilty all at once, but Seungcheol kisses your cheek on the way out and it's like you're able to breathe again.

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It seems that the car ride to your place sucks all the sobriety back into the both of you.

You're lying stomach-down on your bed, Seungcheol against the headboard with his shirt undone. You're in your bra and your still sticky underwear, and somehow, despite being ready to break your three-year spell, you like this much better.

"Imagine if someone needed to piss," Seungcheol groans. "I think we would have gotten fired. Lifestyle would have no editor."

"I honestly think that's why Seungkwan was standing outside for so long."

Upon hearing this, Seungcheol's eyes shoot open. If your phone wasn't charging, you would take a picture. He fell asleep on your shoulder in the car, and now, even with all the affection you can muster, you can only describe his hair as broom-adjacent. Einstein-core. How far you've fallen from grace.

"Don't worry, he won't say anything." And as you watch the color return to his face, you add, "Also, it's not that I didn't want to have sex, I just…" you trail off, hoping he'll get it even though you're making no sense.

"No, it was the right call. I wanna do it when we're both sober."

It smooths your frayed-out nerves knowing that none of this was a performance or a test, just two shy, touch-starved people stumbling in the dark.

"Lemme guess—this is just a typical Friday night for you."

"Flattering but no," Seungcheol replies, grinning something stupid. "Do you always spend this much time wondering what I'm doing?"

"No!" His hands, once busy with scrunching up the fabric of your bedsheets, now find yours, and he runs a careful thumb over your knuckles. You notice he has the care-worn hands of a line chef, or maybe even a baker, which is funny because you don't even think the man knows how to turn on an oven. "I dunno. You just seem so experienced. What about all of those other girls?"

He flips your hand over, tracing the creases of your palm.

"Just dates. Nothing serious."

You want to ask—What about us? Are we serious? But you swallow it all down. You watch Seungcheol's eyes, midnight-weary, fall back upon you, and it feels like he's trusted you with something important.

"Don’t get it twisted, though," he adds, before yawning big and wide without covering his mouth. "I'm a loser, not a virgin. Definitely not."

You bite back a laugh. Killer journalist bio, but that's something to pitch next content meeting.

"Definitely a loser. I think you make me a loser by association."

"Good. So we're both losers. I like that." He smiles at you with so much warmth, it makes your heart physically hurt. Then he clamps down another yawn. "God, I'm exhausted. I think if we fucked in the bathroom, I'd have passed out. Or pulled my back."

"Then sleep," you chide, shucking a pillow at him. "Also take your shirt off. I don't like outside clothes on the bed."

"Say less," Seungcheol says. "I’ll blow your back out another day. Save the date." Between your almost audible gulp and his unfortunately attractive physique, you almost forget the place you're in-between.

Did everyone fit into his arms? Did he lift a hand for just anyone? Two silhouettes in the lamplight—was that how every day with him ended? Or just you, the only other person competing with him for his dream job? The convenient reality scares you.

The thought never seems to cross Seungcheol's mind. His head hits the pillow, and he's out like a light. But not without a not-so-subtle scoot to your side of the bed, near enough that the heat of his skin plays off yours.

You lean into it, liking how your skin buzzes with the closeness.

You're lulled by the sway of Seungcheol's breathing behind you—probably the most quiet he'll ever be. The moonlight oozes into the room; sleep comes over you like water, a slow, gentle wash.

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You can't remember the last time you cooked for two.

You open your fridge, and the hollow insides stare back at you. Rows of condiments and two water bottles. You have finally reached K-drama CEO status.

"Is this the part where I get kicked out?" Seungcheol says, shrugging his shirt back on as he walks out of the bedroom.

"This is the part where I cook breakfast for you."

"Really? You don't have to." He sounds genuinely surprised, which tips your heart a little off-axis.

"I want to," you reply, double checking the fridge as if opening it a second time would repopulate it. "That's what people do when they care about each other."

"Or if they're trying to poison you."

"Will you just let me do something nice for you?" You yank your head out to glare at him, and he looks stung.

"Thanks." He says it after so much pause that you wonder if this is the first time someone has done this for him. You wish you had a better offering, but surely the man with the worst palate in the world could spare his judgment for one meal. "No really, 'cause I am starving."

You let him bask in the rare glory of the unobstructed refrigerator light while you rummage through the pantry for a plan B.

"Holy shit. You live like this?"

"Not always. It's been…a week." All you have is the ramyun Mingyu likes, which feels like a weird, culinary betrayal. But you're hungry, and Seungcheol is eyeing a strange bag in the freezer that you don't even remember putting there. "You good with ramyun?"

"Honestly, I'll eat anything," he whines, gnawing on the ice straight from the freezer drawer.

At least he's self-aware. But he makes all the spaces Mingyu left behind seem a little less empty, and you can't find it in you to be mad at that.

You wait for the water to boil and Seungcheol finds a seat at your tiny dinner table, a misaligned, wobbly product of Mingyu’s inability to read an Ikea manual.

"I'm hoping your week got better?" Seungcheol asks, referring to your capital W week.

You tentatively nod before dropping the noodles in.

"Of course it did—you woke up to me in your bed. Can't get better than that."

"Actually, it's because I finished my article yesterday."

Seungcheol pauses before laughing to himself. "Congrats," he replies, now wiggling the table on its bad leg. "Can't say the same for myself."

you watch the starch-foam wash over the mouth of the pot, precariously close to the edge. You overfilled it, which mildly surprises you until you consider that you're cooking double the food.

There's a stretchy, anxious tumble in your stomach. It's not like you were expecting him to cheer or anything, but it just reminds you that you are, still in fact, competitors. When all of this is said and done, one of you is losing, and from every angle, it seems like quite the death knell for whatever you've got going on now.

It's a pity because you actually kind of like this arrangement. If Seungcheol was in your banged-up flea market chair next Saturday morning, you wouldn't be mad. Maybe you would even make him waffles. From scratch, even.

"What, too many dates to cover?"

He laughs again, somehow to no one in particular. "Something like that."

Past the bruising swell of his smile is the much sharper, more unforgiving edge of an unspoken hurt that you're neither trusted with nor owed, and yet you refuse to drop it. What about me? It feels like you're almost there, wrapped around something bigger, a scoop you can't pull your stubborn teeth out of.

"Is there a reason none of those were serious? Come on."

"What's so wrong with that?" And when you don't say anything, he says, "Trust me, it is never that serious."

His voice ticks up at the end like a teenager trying to play cool and the noodle water boils up around your chopsticks as you try to get your portion cooked through.

You won't—can't—turn to face him. You committed to the line, and now you must see it through, no matter how bad an idea it may be.

"That's not true," you finally squeeze out, finding the right footing for your voice. "It was serious for me. I'm sorry it wasn’t for you."

The table stops rocking.

"I'm glad. Really." He claps his hands together like a cruel punctuation mark, and it's then you remember that the only person as ill-tempered as you happens to be sitting two feet away.

Like an injured animal, your heart wants to cower back into your chest. You knew this was a mistake—this being everything—but an open wound can't help but bleed and your pride can't do without seeing the knife.

"Look, I don't know what your problem is." The pot hisses, astringent and pleading, beneath your fist. "I don't know what happened with your love life, but don't take it out on me."

"You asked."

"Yeah? Well, what is this?" You turn to face him, feeling the air between you tense, pulled like a rubber band. "You can't sit in my kitchen and tell me you don't care about whatever this is."

After all of the terse meetings, elevator spats, and foul-mouthed encounters in the parking lot, you can now recognize the fresh twist of Seungcheol's mouth and the livewire of a temper you've become so familiar with.

"Who said I didn't care? I'm just tired of you trying to lecture me about my life. I—"

"I'm not lecturing you, I just know you can't really believe what you're saying." Every word stumbles out, trembling and doe-legged, barely audible over his attempts to interrupt you. "There's nothing wrong with admitting you were in love with someone. And if you can't, I just feel really fucking sorry for you."

There’s an incredulous look in Seungcheol's eyes. But it's the worse part of you, ruthless and hungry for acceptance, that makes you say, "Maybe the fact that nothing lasts is your fault."

"Oh, really?" Seungcheol's voice, half-laugh with none of the warmth, rips through you. "You're really gonna act like you're better than me? As if you don't write in your pretentious little column every week, just waiting for your ex to read it and decide he wants you back again?"

There’s a red hot flash behind your eyes and everything inside you feels like it breaks at once.

"You know, at least I had someone who cared about me. Can't say the same about your miserable, sorry ass. Now get the fuck out of my apartment."

"Wh—"

he stands up, table croaking underneath his fists, and you realize you've crossed a bridge that can never be uncrossed.

"Get. Out."

It feels like a stitch in you has come undone. The water has long boiled over the pot and there's no joy to be found in watching Seungcheol stumble over his pant legs on the way to the door.

"I didn't want Mingyu. I wanted you."

it's not an apology, nor is it an indictment. You don't know why you say it, and you guess Seungcheol doesn't either. The door slams behind him, and all you're left with is a bloated pot of ramyun you never really wanted anyway.

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Celery. Red wine. Short rib.

If you had one day left on earth, you think you would go grocery shopping. It was like a prayer to you—you could close your eyes and know exactly what aisle had the beef broth, or feel the stone weight of a can of San Marzano tomato paste.

That's one thing you can thank Mingyu for—it's true that you don't love him like you used to, but you refuse to believe that any love worth having is also worth leaving behind.

Fingerling potatoes, the red ones. A Vidalia onion.

You recite your shopping list, slowly, quietly, a rosary.

Baguette is the next item, with a question mark next to it because sometimes your local bakery sells out after 3.

You pass by, expecting to see the shop window cleared out. Instead you see a familiar crown of cowlicked black hair and a horribly well-worn grin that only looks good because it's on Choi Seungcheol's face.

He's paying for a pretty girl's sourdough, and thyme, rosemary gets washed out by a dizzying riptide of heartache.

It was never personal, you tell yourself. Just another date. That's the angle.

You think it hurts a little less, knowing that it all was a business transaction. A long interview.

The thyme is next to the dill. The rosemary is next to the chives, at the end of the shelf.

You watch Seungcheol lean over the tiny cafe table to take a sip of his date's Americano. Did he always laugh like that? Were you really any different?

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Monday feels tilted.

There's the usual gust of cinnamon sugar and cold brew—today's offering from the interns, who have begun to master the art of pressing the elevator buttons with full hands. Wonwoo is wearing his Monday outfit, a wrinkled cream button up under a navy blue sweater vest. Your cubicle is empty, just the way you like it, save for the ass-shaped spot cleared off on the desk edge.

You like days like this, except today you don't and you know exactly why.

"Today's the day," Joshua says, nose buried in a bakery-style muffin, the top pillowing out of the wrapper.

He stares over your shoulder at your article, locked and loaded for submission to copy.

You are not exaggerating when you say you would die for these four thousand words. You ate and cried and argued for them in what you can only describe as the worst literary coliseum of your life, and now their (and your) fate rests in Joshua’s massive Mickey Mouse hands and Wonwoo's bespectacled whimsy.

"Well, don't let me stop you." He laughs and then totters away, sucking a crumb off a finger. Just another Monday.

Your cursor hovers over the SUBMIT button. You've always been a little scared of it—unsurprising, since you're also the type to triple read an email before sending it—but there's a new kind of fear boxed in those little pixels.

Last night, you emptied out your freezer. Stuck on the back wall was a neon green sticky note, behind all the bags. See you when you get home, it said. You laughed and then you cried and then you ripped it up because that's probably what Seungcheol was looking at the morning you chewed him out.

All of that heartache must have been good for something. To say you wasted it on a no-love situationship wouldn't do any of it justice, not when all that's left is most definitely a crude shoutout on Seungcheol's next listicle. If you weren't already getting one earlier, you sure are now.

You wonder what you'll be:

10 Signs She Is Clinically Insane.

It's Not You, It's Them!

Help! My Friend With Benefits Isn't A Friend Or A Benefit!

At least that one is funny, although if it's the winning line, you don't think you can ever show your face in the office again.

The beginning and the end and the muddy in-between. Entrenched in all of it was this article and this job, and you'll be damned if you let your misplaced faith get co-opted by a sweaty-palmed Casanova.

(8:19 AM; the smell of summer and dried-down cologne. A hand on your ribcage, just beneath your heart. Good morning, Seungcheol says, as if emerging from a long, wonderful dream.)

You picture the byline with editor tacked next to your name. To run your finger over the ink spackled serif of a paper hot off the press, as if somehow it would radiate the misery you had to endure.

(11:41 PM; jajangmyeon and a pack of rice crackers. Seungcheol had given you his chopsticks because you dropped yours. The hum of the broken light outside Wonwoo's office sings in the silence of an empty newsroom. Your eyes meet, and you don't look away.)

There's a sinking feeling in your chest. You close your eyes and hit submit.

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Ask Samuel!

It's 6 PM on a Thursday and if you weren't already on your last thread, you are now. The angry red of the Daily Trojan website glares back at you from your phone as you step into the elevator with none other than your editor-in-chief.

You've resorted to reading Seungcheol's old advice columns. Not because you miss him, but because you want to know if he was ever a competent writer capable of talking about something other than how to score on a second date.

That's the only way he's beating you.

(There's also no way you miss him. The thought would make you laugh out loud if you weren't standing next to your boss).

One column became four became ten. After thirteen you concluded Seungcheol must have sustained a head injury some time before starting his job here—you can find no other explanation for how someone so generous and intuitive could've gotten lost in the chaff of articles with more pictures than words.

"Congrats," Wonwoo says, seemingly speaking into the void.

"Pardon?" You close out a particularly riveting query about estranged childhood friends to look up at him.

"Congrats."

"F-for what?" You get that head rush again, the same one you got a month ago at the Italian restaurant with Jeonghan.

"The job. You got the position." Wonwoo clears his throat calmly, as if he's not delivering the most important news of your life. "I wanted to let you know in person before we sent out Monday’s email."

For once, you have no words. In a wonderful instant, they are all zapped out of your brain. You feel hot and clammy and anxious all at once and you half expect to close your eyes and see either god or the flare of a hospital light, waking you up from an impossible coma.

"Holy shit," the primordial ooze inside you says instead. "T-thank you."

"No need."

"What about Seungcheol? Does he know?"

"I haven't told him yet, but he should be aware." Wonwoo pauses. "He didn't submit anything."

"What?!"

There are only so many surprises your body can handle. You feel like you are being held together by a fast-unraveling string on a poorly made sweater. Your stomach is somewhere in your feet and you don't even know where your heart is. Part of you is waiting for the elevator to stop so the entire office can jump out of the walls and laugh at you.

"I too was surprised," Wonwoo says, now checking his smartwatch for messages. "He must have changed his mind. No matter—I'm confident you will be an excellent fit."

The elevator jerks to a stop at the first floor. You feel boneless, like a can of cranberry sauce.

"Forgive me, I have a dinner appointment." Wonwoo ends the conversation the best way he can—with his trademark parentheses smile and a nod of the head—and leaves you in the elevator cabin alone.

All the times you've dreamed of this moment, you're tear-dizzy, joyous, fumbling with your phone to call your parents.

Instead you stand motionless, waiting, emptied.

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To make croissants, you fold a slab of butter into a square of yeasted dough. You roll it out thin and then fold it into itself before leaving it to rest in the fridge. Then you take it out again, roll it, and fold it. You do this until you've forgotten how many times you folded it and you no longer crave croissants.

When you were five, you pressed your nose to the window of your favorite patisserie and decided this is how your mind works.

You've had ample time now to flatten out Saturday morning, to watch all the little layers of doubt and loathing form, and now you're sick of it. It's not often you're star witness to your own unhappiness, but, as if you were called to the stand, you can easily play back the moment you lit the match and then watched everything explode.

You're not sure what either of you were expecting. A playboy and you, who loves so insistently, almost as if out of spite—there is truly no reality in which it makes sense. The fact that you fought over a literal pot of ramyun only proves this.

And now he's saddled you with the final blow. The position of your dreams with none of the glory because he gave up.

He gave up.

None of this should matter to you.

You're standing outside the office, waiting for your ride to your celebratory dinner (this time, on Jeonghan). The little headline man in your brain is silent for once. Instead, you try to enjoy the breeze, honeyed with late June, and not dwell on the horrible twist in your stomach every time you think about your new position. It's been 24 hours since you found out but it is no less raw.

It's then that you catch Seungcheol, creeping out the double doors of the office like some sort of criminal. You're not sure if it's the plod of his Sasquatch feet or that bag you hate so dearly, but you could recognize that walk from anywhere.

His pace quickens when you turn to face him—he's running away. You won't grant him the satisfaction. Not when he's fucked up what little you had left, and then some.

"You're an idiot, Seungcheol."

That does the trick.

"Funny way of saying hi," he responds, bracing himself on the sidewalk as if you're about to hit him.

"Why didn't you submit anything? What the fuck were you thinking?"

"What does it matter to you? You got the position."

"Look, I—" You shut your eyes, feeling the frenetic ice-cream churn of your brain try to put together a million broken up words. "I'm sorry for Saturday. But I never wanted to scare you off from the job. You deserve it as much as I do, and, as much as I hate to say it, I care about you too fucking much to watch you throw away your shot."

Saying the words is like cutting something loose from your chest, a million strings coming undone.

Seungcheol takes a deep, unsteady breath. You watch the crest and fall of his shoulders and the inescapable tar pits he calls eyes get big and shiny.

"No, I—" He pulls himself from your gaze. "I'm sorry. I should have never said that to you. And I should have never treated you like that."

The silence between you ripples, as if after a long rain.

"I was scared. A long time ago, I threw myself into a relationship. I thought we had something really, really good, and then I found out she was also seeing someone else."

Being right never felt so bad. It's even worse that something you would look forward to—the I told you so, the jokes really write themselves—no longer holds any satisfaction, only a sense of loss and a terrible urge to make it right again.

"And it's not right, but I decided that it was a mistake to take chances like that again. And it was fine, fun even, going on all of these casual dates and getting paid for it. Then you just had to mess it up."

"H-how?"

"You were so dead-set on convincing me otherwise. You wouldn't let it go, not with your weird sayings and the way you talked about your ex and when you told me you were making me breakfast. I started believing you, and it really fucking scared me."

There's a sharp pain in your head. It feels like, at once, you were skinned like a fruit. Like the interlude between dream and waking, all the sheets of sleep yanked from your person.

"What…what about the article?" you ask, scrambling. You don't really want to contend with what he just told you. You don't think you can.

"You deserved it more. And you really love what you do. I used to think it was all bullshit, but I was wrong."

You take a hard swallow. The image of Seungcheol, head bowed, a nervous hand on the back of his neck, swims in front of your eyes.

"Whatever. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore," he laughs, mirthless.

"No, wait," you say. "I-I also…never took you seriously, not even when I should've. You know, I read your advice columns. Crazy, I know."

"I do have to say that is one of your more insane claims."

"No, I thought, they were actually, you know…really good." You watch him blink, mouth already twisting up as he fights a smile. "What I'm trying to say is that I think we messed up. In a lot of ways. But I want to be friends again. Or at least not enemies."

Seungcheol takes a long pause before he sticks his hand out.

"Choi Seungcheol. Writer. It's nice to meet you."

Some force, as if you had always been connected, pulls your skin to his. You shake his hand for the very first time, and starting over never felt so good.

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"You're booking Eleven Madison for the office dinner again, right?"

Wonwoo pops his head into your office, his Monday uniform now festive with a holiday tie. Today, it's snowmen with glasses.

"Naturally," you reply. "Unless you have plans on that Friday."

You're referring to last week, when Wonwoo took a call in the middle of a staff meeting and revealed that yes, he would most definitely be available for drinks with Yerim that evening. He ended the meeting thirty short seconds later, and you think you saw him skip to the elevator.

He laughs, deep and caramel. "Not this time. Also—don't forget to review those job applications. Sent them to your email."

Before you can tease him again, he leaves, and you are forced to look at your teeming inbox, the only unfortunate side effect of your new position. But you've never been happier, and a hundred new unread emails never seemed so wonderful. The first time Jeonghan saw you in your new office, you were so giddy he thought you were coming down with something.

You take a hefty sip of today's coffee (ginger, molasses, cinnamon). On the side of the cup, the one you keep facing away from the door, reads SEUNGCHEOL and OAT, in loopy marker letters.

After you shook hands in the parking lot, you agreed to take it slow. You thought bringing everything to a simmer would cure you of your affection, but it wasn't even a month before Seungcheol was back in that same seat in your kitchen, eating the blueberry waffles you promised him.

But if slow meant long phone calls and the nervous twine of your hands after an ice cream date, then you think you like slow. You could do slow for a while.

He's taken to bringing you coffee in the morning. He claims it's your editorial right, but you think he just likes having an excuse to barge into your office. (And close the door behind him. And kiss you. But that's aside the point.)

Plus, Seungcheol's had plenty of legitimate reasons to be in your office. The newest one is the launch of Ask Sunny! , which you think is the best idea he's had since deciding to get you coffee every day. He spent the last few days campaigning to reuse his old alias, but you're pretty sure he was just looking for reasons to argue with you.

"Afternoon, boss."

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. You always seem to learn the hard way with Seungcheol.

He swaggers in, ear-to-ear smile on his face, before taking a seat at the designated corner of your table.

"I think I like this desk better," he says, folding at the waist so he can lean close to you. Instead of reminding him it's the same desk, you just choose to make space for him, you let him press his nose to yours.

"Friendly reminder we're at work."

"Everyone's at lunch, genius."

He interrupts you with just a touch of his lips, which should be considered no less than a war crime by now.

"You are the worst."

"Not what you said last night. Not even close." He places another wet kiss on your nose before sliding off the table edge to his feet. There's a horrible warmth in his eyes as he watches you very clearly remember what exactly he's referring to. (A wandering hand. A cherry. Dark hair, wound through your fingers). "Anyway, I've got serious problems to solve. Or should I say Sunny? I still think we should have gone with Samuel."

"Executive decision," you tease. "Now if you don't need anything, scram. Out of my office."

"Just wanted to remind you I made reservations for us at Avra today," Seungcheol says, lingering in the doorframe with the shit-eating grin he tends to sport nowadays. "I'll even let you order."

There's no fighting the familiar bloom of laughter in your chest. It boils up, sparkling and citrusy, as you roll your eyes and watch Seungcheol return to his desk no less starry-eyed than how he walked in.

If cooking is a language, then love is the words, and you finally think you're learning to speak them.

You open the email at the top of your inbox: Seungcheol's last draft of the article he never published. You urged him to let you consider it for the next issue, and he finally caved (although you're learning that he really doesn't take much convincing when it comes to you).

Eat, Play, Love: A Guide.

Maybe you'd put it through. Maybe.

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[ilycosy]

subby season one rafe has my heart omg please share ur thoughts on the cokehead when he's high lmao

subby rafe is my fav type of rafe !!! i wna take care of him n mother him sm 😕

warnings: rafe is high (technically dubcon) , mommy kink n issues , dry humping !!

you both knew this wasn't okay in any way, other than personality differences and the fact that you're his dealers best friend— you're a pogue. rafe couldn't think of anything worse that he could be attracted to, but whenever he's in need of a fix he finds himself at your doorstep.

you hadn't really meant for this to become a thing, but rafe was cute. he was still baby faced and jittery every time you brushed him, pouting his pretty lips whenever you told him no more.

he hadn't come for a fix this time, rather showing up already high. his pupils dilated, and his brain moving faster than his mouth could speak. he barely got out the word 'mommy' before his lips were on yours. it hadn't been the first time you and rafe had slept together (don't tell his friends), but it's definitely the first that he's been so.. needy.

his slick lips had moved from yours down to your neck, shoving you through the door as you tried to grasp what was even going on. your hands found their way to his hips before you fully registered that they were even moving, pushing him back.

when you pushed him back, you could see the traces of his coke under his nose. his breathing was heavy, his hands trying to paw at you and bring you closer. whimpering for you, pleading that you pay attention to him.

you ignore the ache in your heart and focus on the ache between your legs, pulling him closer so you can properly kiss him. your hands run up his shirt, teasing his cold clammy skin.

he pushes back, trying to get your hands on him more. "fuck," he whines, his voice throaty and high. "please, mommy." you can hear your heart beating in your ears as he pleads, bringing your hands up to his chest manually.

your fingers find his nipples, just to tease him, not expecting to pull a whine from his throat so easily. his voice raising in volume as he tries to pull away when you pinch them, "fucking– stop!" he grunts, not like that'll stop you.

your hands slip out from under his shirt to rest on his throat, his dilated pupils hazily looking at you as he easily lets you push him to your broken couch. he can feel something sharp digging into his back but he doesn't mention it, not when you climb onto his lap.

"rafe," you tease, dragging your nails from his neck down his chest, resting at his v-line. "i always knew you were just looking for attention."

he thinks he rolls his eyes, whether he actually did is unknown to him. he doesn't argue with you, half because you're right and half because he's liking everything you do. a certain weight is lifted off him when your weight comes down on him, grinding onto the bulge in his shorts.

you bite back a giggle when rafe's head drops to your tits, his hands finding the back of your shirt to untie it. his shaking hands undo the knot of your shirt and tug it completely off, almost ripping it when it gets caught on your shoulders. so needy to have access to your chest.

his breathing hitches as he tunes into all his senses at once, the feeling of your cunt dragging up and down on his clothed cock, the smell of your coconut shampoo and your vanilla bodywash, but especially the soft muffled noises you make.

you watch him with hooded eyes, looking down at him as he drools on your tits— leaving warm spit to cool every time he pulls away slightly to look down and watch you grind. you can tell he's cumming before he even notices, his whines becoming louder and his hips bucking up.

he doesn't notice that he's cum until he feels the prickling pain of overstimulation rush through him when you keep moving, then he feels the uncomfortable wetness in his boxers— then comes the embarrassment. he came, in his pants, before you!

he almost apologizes, maybe begs for you to listen and not be mad but he's cut off by you. "there's mommy's boy," you coo at him, bordering teasing and loving. "did you cum for mommy?"

he swears his heart soars as he nods, a heavy blush spreading across his face as he looks up from your tits. peeking out from them innocently, like he didn't just do lines of coke with barry and cum in his pants.

"sweetheart," you whisper, running your fingers through his greasy hair, noting that he needs a shower after. "can you please make mommy feel good now? it's unfair that you've came n' i haven't.."

he almost gives himself whiplash with how fast he starts nodding, moving to get up and shove you onto the couch.

[ladcedes]

two wheels

george russell x biker!reader, social media!au

summary george's new girlfriend seems way too cool for him and the fans just cannot believe it

notes bit of a longer one here (what is a plot) but i just wanted to do something fun since it's the winter break. and i love poking a bit of fun at my favs

yourusername

tagged: yourbestfriend and 6 others

Liked by lilymhe, georgerusselll63, and 29,412 others

yourusername that's my party people! 🍾

10 December 2023

view 116 comments

yourbestfriend for the record, everything that happened after 9pm is completely yn's fault

⤷ yourusername sooo r u still up for next week?

⤷ yourbestfriend @/yourusername 100%

⤷ yourfriend1 yn is the reason why you shouldn't drink and drive 😭

nadissodone HOLDDDDD IT 🚨🚨 george liked this post

⤷ 44formula but he wasn't tagged soo??

⤷ goatmilton what is a polar bear doing in arlington texas 💀💀💀

champagneshower no way 4th slide is george tho

liked by yourusername

⤷ jadedtrack it does kinda look like him tbf

4strobaby yn ma'am could you please confirm whether or not you have a boyfriend

liked by yourusername

⤷ 4strobaby GUYS SHE LIKED THE COMMENT THIS MIGHT MEAN SOMETHING

⤷ unevilincorporated OMG WAIT @/yourusername does that boyfriend happen to be f1 driver george russell???

liked by yourusername and georgerussell63

⤷ unevilincorporated BOTH HER AND GEORGE LIKED THAT ONE???? IT DEFINITELY MEANS SOMETHING

⤷ maroon.jpg @unevilincorporated yall are crazy why are we playing ouija board with comment likes 😭😭

georgerussell63

Liked by pierregasly, yourusername, and 127,384 others

georgerussell63 Pretty good start to winter break ❄️

p.s. thanks danielricciardo for the wine

18 December 2023

view 316 comments

danielricciardo Hope you guys enjoyed the wine!

⤷ yourusername the wine was a banger, will 100% be getting more

⤷ tracklimited @/yourusername oh yeah she basically just confirmed that they're together 💀

oceanblvd im almost positive that's yn's helmet theyre really not trying to hide it anymore

yourusername • 3hrs ago | georgerussell63 • 2hrs ago / 20 December 2023

you replied to georgerussell63's story:

i'm taking u out on another one tmr and u can't say no babe

georgerussell63:

what if i do say no?

you:

u can't. i'll kidnap u and throw u on my bike

georgerussell63:

i could run away

and i think mercedes will have something to say about that

you:

don't worry, i won't keep you for too long

besides, the team loves me

they'll let me off the hook

georgerussell63:

i don't like how i can't argue with that

yourusername

tagged: georgerussell63 and 7 others

Liked by francisca.cgomes and 211,220 others

yourusername i should be playing in the winter snow, but imma be under the mistletoe (with youuu)

25 December 2023

view 213 comments

lilymhe nobody tell her it wasn’t snowing in london last night

⤷ yourusername i wouldn’t have known anyway tbh

⤷ pierregasly @/yourusername too busy?

⤷ georgerussell63 @/pierregasly we can’t disclose that i’m afraid.. the nda and all that 😂😂

⤷ brockenclocks @/pierregasly why is pierre always at the scene of the crime 😭😭

⤷ certifiedlvrgrrl @/georgerussell63 george wtf do u mean by the nda

mercedesamgf1 Merry Christmas from the team!

liked by yourusername

yourusername • 2hrs ago / 28 December 2023

yourusername

tagged: georgerussell63 and 4 others

Liked by lissiemackintosh, georgerussell63, and 52,220 others

yourusername starting the year off in the beautiful south of france 💋

📸 1&2: georgerussell63

4 January 2024

view 224 comments

georgerussell63 i think i should get credits for the 4th pic too since it was taken on my phone

⤷ yourusername georgie please just let it go 😭

⤷ georgerussell63 @ yourusername you took 50 pictures before letting me leave the bathroom and i was only in half of them.

⤷ yourusername @ georgerussell63 they're for ur personal collection 😘

⤷ moonriver @ yourusername PERSONAL COLLECTION????

⤷ sativaur @ yourusername "personal collection" yn im going insane

fonedance yn you're so fine please break up with ur bf i can treat you better than he ever will

⤷ cuntlonso realest thing i've read all day 😭😭😭

georgerussell63

Liked by pierregasly, logansargeant, and 216,993 others

georgerussell63 A refreshing little getaway to start the year

📸 2: yourusername

4 January 2024

view 431 comments

jadedfc the way his arm wraps around her in their pics im sosoo sick

⤷ rollemodel he lowkey shut down all the haters with it too

⤷ sunburnns that should be me pls

yourusername

tagged: georgerussell63

Liked by georgerussell63, lilymhe and 39.238 others

yourusername trying out a couple extra wheels...

16 January 2024

view 146 comments

yourbestfriend coolest girl itw ⚡️

lilymhe so the final verdict on 2 vs 4 wheels is...?

⤷ georgerussell63 4 wins

⤷ yourusername @/georgerussell63 hell no it's obviously 2 🙄

⤷ georgerussell63 @/yourusername think that's because you lost by an entire lap?

⤷ yourusername @/georgerussell63 as if you didn't almost fall off the bike!! u're also biased

⤷ georgerussell63 @/yourusername why don't we just agree to disagree?

⤷ yourusername @/georgerussell63 you just don't wanna admit i'm right

⤷ motogp @/georgerussell63 @/yourusername🍿🍿🍿

⤷ lilymhe @/motogp pass me some, too

⤷ alex_albon @/motogp me 3

gr63stan their arguing is so adorable 😭😭

mercrarri yep i still think she's way too cool for him

⤷ landoshelmet ikr she's such a badass and he's... there

⤷ pastrydish literal she's everything and he's just ken

⤷ 4lbons she already said leave the man alone damn 😭😭

maiadrsh george russell has to be the luckiest man alive

⤷ yourusername more like sexiest man alive

⤷ alex_albon @/yourusername i did NOT need to see you say that today 🤢

⤷ georgerussell63 @alex_albon you'd better believe it 😎

⤷ alex_albon @/georgerussell63 not today, not for a single one of the past 15 years we've known each other, and not ever

⤷ yourusername @alex_albon sincerely, even i doubt that second part

⤷ silverstoned what is yn insinuating in these comments 🤨

an: i feel like every time i post a new smau i level up and introduce new formatting. also comment tags r weird bcs i wna avoid tagging real users and it irks me

bonus:

yourusername • 12hrs ago

seen by georgerussell63, francisca.cgomes, and 153,329 others

georgerussell63 replied to your story | 16:44

"but you love me more"

"right?"

you | 16:45

"hmmmm i gotta think about it"

"i'll tell you tomorrow?"

georgerussell63 | 16:46

"..."

"i can't believe i might lose to a bike 😐"

you | 16:46

"jokes 😭"

"would you pick your car over me, though?"

georgerussell63 | 16:48

"no comment"

you | 16:49

"george."

georgerussell63 | 16:51

"i love you"

you | 16:52

"i'm coming over"

[garagepaperback]

What are your favorite drarry fics?

oh. ooooooooooooh oh oh.

here are my staples:

draco, the magic dragon - libbydrew a fic i first read on livejournal (showing off the varnish of my casket here) that i thought about regularly for the almost two decades i fell out of fandom. canon to me tbh. libby invented my draco rubric: proud lil showboat even when everything around him has gone to rancid shit, sarcastic and aloof personality as a poor facade to distract from the big ol' gaping well of hurt.

Potter took a great breath, then let it out slowly – a low whistle between his teeth. "Malfoy, I had no idea. I thought—" "Why are you here?" Draco cut him off before the idiot embarrassed them both. Their shared past was water under the bridge – even if Draco had drowned in it.

nightingale - michi_the_killer

another back-in-my-day fav, even though i can only stand to read half of it. actually even thinking about it is making me stare off in a distance for upwards of three minutes. this one i would hand off wrapped in about a million miles of caution tape. + also a huge fan of michi's gory veela fic.

It was better than fighting, Harry thought, although sometimes he still wanted to rip into Malfoy, to hurt him. Other days, he thought, it was better than anything.

rookie moves - peu_a_peu

what can i say that hasn't already been said - peu is a MASTER. if you somehow know who i am but haven't read this, reassess your life choices through professional means but not until after you dive in.

“Feels kinda big,” Malfoy said, smirking. “For a guy your height.” “My height is average,” Harry said, although he was undeniably glaring upward at Malfoy’s face when they stood so close together. “And it is kinda big.”

stately homes of wiltshire - waspabi another one that crept into my heart and made a home. hard to choose between this and waspabi's other drarry fic, but there's something about the decrepit manor that just does it for me. a perfect harry and draco, perfect soft reaching towards each other.

Draco smiled and dragged Potter from the shop before he could charm any more elderly ladies with his unkept, take-care-of-me-I’m-confused-and-have-nice-shoulders aesthetic. Once outside in the drizzle, he realised he still had his hand around Potter’s forearm. He yanked his hand back immediately.

i wake up falling - warmfoothills

warmfoothills :,) just reading this moniker makes me vision go soft around the edges. their writing has made me out loud, quietly say "oh," multiple times. the prose is darling, this story is such a brief, aching glance. it was also really hard to pick just one (flashback, warm nights i also go in for).

“I love you,” he says, unable to stop himself. Draco blinks, a barely-there flinch, like Harry’s taken a swing at him. “I know,” he says, still oblivious to the reference, oblivious to the way his words scoop right into the meat of Harry’s stupid, hopeful heart. “It’s not enough, is it?” Draco shakes his head. Above, the stars watch unfeelingly on.

the pure and simple truth - lettered no one does dialogue with the mastery lettered does. my GOD. my god. i feel like this fic is drarry perfectly distilled.

“What’s he going to be?” Blaise raised a brow. “Pardon?” “You said he says Hermione should be Minister, and all those other things. What does Malfoy think he should be?” There was something much like pity in Blaise’s eyes. “He thinks he should never, ever be forgiven for the things he’s done.” Harry felt ill. “That’s not fair.” “When has Draco ever been fair?” “I meant―” Harry swallowed hard. “That’s not right.” Blaise looked more pitying still. “When has Draco ever been right?”

far from the tree - aideomai

the writer i avoid talking about the most bc once i start i cannot physically restrain myself from going on about their beauty forever. i sat for forty-five solid minutes frowning, trying to choose between this one and in the hand. and dwelling. okay anyway. i keep a doc of quotes from fics that resonate and it's 50% aideomai.

Draco wondered what Potter thought of this day, in the future the twins came from. If he had told Ginny about it. If he had forgotten it. He couldn’t forget it, could he? It felt burned into Draco’s body already, a final point that he had been moving toward for years without knowing.

i could go on but i think seven is a nice solid number tyvm for this ask!

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Dick Grayson is my favorite lil guy

And my favorite way of consuming content of my favorite lil guy is the core 5 titans

There is also about 5 billion pieces of media where these 5 interact and some of it sucks so here I am scrapbooking canon together with glue and scissors so I can talk about how I view Dicks relationship with the other OG titans and how different these relationships are from one another while all still being boiled down to found family love

Dick & Donna: Listen. To. Me. These two aren't besties, or fav teammates or siblings. These two are the sun and earth revolving around each other except they each think the other one is the Sun. Dick Grayson and Donna Troy are the blueprint for platonic soulmates. Dick and Donna make everyone around them believe in ancient story by plato "humans once had 4 arms and legs and 2 faces and the God Zeus split them in half for their hubris and now they are destined to roam the earth forever looking for their other half". If y'all think Dick wasn't doing well after Jason died?? Donna Troys death fundamentally changed who Dick Grayson was and how he was written in teams for years. Donna Troy and Dick Grayson absolutely have debated getting platonically married (not canon but it is in my heart) and the only reason they haven't is BC if they do, Donna will kidnap Dick and never let him within 1000 feet of Bruce Wayne and Gotham.

Dick & Roy: remember how I said Dick was fucked up post Troias death in the comics? yeah? Roy Harper is the only reason he made it out of that period of his life alive. These two are like fire and Gasoline, they're quick and angry and always inexplicably near each other. They are VICIOUS with one another in a way they almost never are with anyone else. They try so hard to ruin their relationship bc implicitly they know (unless its the new 52 which I ignore for my own mental wellbeing-hey I did say this was a scrap book of canons) they'll always be there for each other. Roy Harper never misses, Dick Grayson cannot fall and yet Dick is there to hold Roy when his hand trembles and Roy is there to catch Dick when he loses his Grip.

Dick Grayson is the first person Roy calls to get Lian

Roy Harper is the designated keep Dick Grayson alive even if he has to tie the bastard up-

Dick (and wally depending on the run) help Roy with his addiction)

these two are each others roman empires

Dick & Wally: to cut back on the pretentious seriousness of this post. Every time these two are drawn together be it 80s road trips or being the most likeable part of tom Taylors run. Wally west always reads like he's about to invite Dick to swing with him and his wife. If you see them as platonic, romantic (right person wrong time is my favourite Fanon flavour but canonically I like em besties) or somewhere in between Wally West is always Dick Graysons best friend. There is something so wholesome about the fact that Wally canonically stalks checks up on Dick Grayson as much as he does his wife and twins and Dick who is a bat, notorious for expressing their love via breaking into your house and doing your casework for you. Is getting stalked checked up on by someone who loves him without it triggering his "see obviously you're not good enough they're literally babysitting you" paranoia. its like meeting your partners love language needs but its for deeply messed up individuals. They canonically call themselves best friends, and while Dick will always love Roy he always Likes being around Wally (as well as love him but that's a given)

(sidetone are you even besties if people don't think you're dating when they meet you?)

Dick & Garth: The amount of trust, love and respect that tempest holds for Nightwing melts my damn heart (but then again everything garth does melts my damn heart, baby Garth you will always be famous) they are such an underrated pairing and I love the fact that no matter the media, whether they're rivals like in the cartoons or Garth deferring to Dick as leader to the point where he disobeys aquaman (rebirth) Bc yeah THATS how much my purple eyed perfect boy trusts wing. There is always this really sweet understanding that Garth can go to Dick for advice (he asks for Donna advice in titans and advice on his relationship with Dolphin in the comics). And him and Dicks reunion post RIC? I love them sm. Its just... There was also a period of time where Garth was the only titan with sense and tbh sometimes its refreshing to see that when the rest of them (except donna she was dead at the time we never say a bad word about donna in this household) are being fucking insane

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

Heyyy so I was thinking of how cool masquerade masks looks- and oh would you look at that a post

The Lady Of The Mask 

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

In a black and gold bedroom with a victorian style room was a boy in front of a black vanity putting on blush with a black and gold mask that is on a stand on the vanity the boy has long black hair with ice blue eyes

As he finished putting on blush and picked up the mask he started to think about how he got here and got the title of

•The Lady Of The Mask•

———————————————————

His parents turned him into the G.I.W hands after they found out they wanted them to “Fix” him and what good that did all he has from that place is scars and the memories after one of them was trying transport him to a different room when they thought he was out for the count, news flash he wasn’t he broke free of his restraints with a wail he had left and fled and kept flying until he found a natural portal and as he went through he closed it from the other side

As he looks around he noticed that instead of the random floating islands and green sky he was expecting he saw a large room with large mirrors that took up the wall and when he looked up he saw a picture of a part of space no living thing has ever been [and probably never will be]

That’s when he realized that wasn’t a natural portal when he comes to the realization he hears foot steps behind him as he turns he comes face to face with a tall woman wearing a long black rob over her body but the parts that were visible were a sickly green where her vines should be

She explains that she is The Lady of the mask and someone needs to take her place so when she saw him she chose him to take her place and take care of everything and gives him a black box with gold accents on it

And than she just leaves.

As Danny opens the box he sees a Gold mask with black accents with a note explaining what his new role is and what he has to do, he has to

Make sure deals are up held

Take care of the Manner

He can do that but at the end of the note he sees a single sentence

“Keep the Mask safe if you do it will keep you safe”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Now onto the DC part of this thing!

Constantine needed to make a deal with the one person he really didn’t want too, the JL idiots messed with something they shouldn’t have had messed with now all of them have to fix this and for the person he doesn’t want to make a deal with is

The Lady of The Mask

The Lady as many call them is known to make sure that all deals made with them are up held and if not while no one really knows as no one has come back from whatever they did to them

Yet here he was making the summing circle for them all he can do to try to up hold his end of the deal

But at what cost?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Now onto my fav part the details!

For Danny I’m thinking something like this

With this as a second outfit if he’s not wearing this or fighting ( because he’s a badass bitch like that )

And for hair ( most of the time hidin under his hat) is this

And just cause here is what the manner looks like and the ballroom

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

And that’s about it for this one, I had a hard time with this one I had to redo the plot like three times lol and if anyone wants to use this or add on feel free to I kinda half-assed it at the end due to being tired

But I hope you all like it see you gremlins later byeeee

[n6ptunova]

can u do chris bf headcanons

boyfriend headcanons • chris sturniolo

a/n: ofc pookie!! thank you for the request🫶

warnings: none

- chris would try to act a bit more “chill” and “nonchalant” before you guys date, but once it’s official he turns into the sweetest boy ever. he becomes almost soft spoken when it comes to you and you only.

- he goes to you for fashion advice since he can’t really match clothes. you take him shopping and dress him up in a way that he’s comfortable with but also looks so fine. he might even make one of those tiktoks “my style before and after my gf.” he also loves matching with you for sure.

- speaking of clothes, he LOVESSS when you wear his shirts and hoodies. it doesn’t matter if they’re baggy, tight, or well-fitted on you, he just thinks you look so beautiful in his clothes and he thinks it’s cute how giggly you get and how you burry your face in them admiring his lingering scent. he’ll let you keep your fav hoodie of his too.

- he cannot go to sleep without you. we all know how he’s always sleeping in nick and matt’s rooms, but ever since you got together, he only sleeps in his bed, yours, or the couch but you HAVE to be there or else what else is he gonna cuddle??

- his favourite is when he’s the small spoon laying on top of you and resting his head on your chest (not for that reason but it’s def a bonus) and you playing with his hair till he falls asleep. if he wakes up and you’re separated he’ll whine and cuddle closer to you.

- i think it’s a given that he likes when you play with his hair, it’s his weakness fr. but sometimes when you’re bored you start braiding his hair or trying different hairstyles on him like man bun, piggy tails, space buns or your personal favourite half up half down with some strands falling out. he acts like he’s annoyed when you do this but he melts at the feeling of your fingers in his hair.

- he’ll just be looking up with heart eyes at you focusing so hard to perfect the hair style for him and secretly smiling every time you get excited at how cute he looks and the little kisses you cover his face with. he’s so whipped it’s crazy.

- he’s a part of the sassy men apocalypse idc. being in a relationship with chris is mostly joking around and poking fun at each other. so when he’s in a goofy mood and you shrug him off bc you’re busy or not focused he’ll go “oh so you don’t love me anymore?? i see.”

- “babe literally what’s more important than me rn this is insanity.” you always call each other bro but when hes feeling sassy and you call him bro he’ll say, “are you bro/friend zoning me rn. what the fuck.” and sometimes he doesn’t even respond and just crosses his arms dramatically looking away until you say his name or “babe/baby”

- he takes pictures of things he noted you like before eg. the sky, sunsets, flowers, cats, etc. and sends them to you bc it reminds him of you and he knows how excited you get over them.

- he’s a mama’s boy i stand by that, so it’s important for him that you get along with mary lou, which you do! mary lou loves you so much he starts to get jealous of both of you because you’re “stealing” his mom and you’re spending more time with her that chris starts to miss you.

- i feel like in general chris is a bit touch deprived, like in vids he’s always reaching for his brothers’ hands or resting on them, hugging them, leaning on them when laughing etc. now that he has you, you get all these little touches, playing with your fingers subconsciously, tracing circles on your thighs occasionally squeezing it, rests his arms on your shoulder when you’re standing somewhere, always hugging and kissing you on the cheek, forhead, corner of your lips, and even boops your nose sometimes 😭.

- he definitely is always looking at you with loving heart eyes all the time that fans start to make edits of “the way he looks at you” and you both eat them up.

- when he’s sick he turns into a literal child, you have to baby him or else you’ll never hear the end of his whining and complaining. but it’s okay bc when you’re sick he does the same.

- overall that man is just whipped for you fr and his brothers tease him for it sometimes but he doesn’t care (he literally punches their arm almost every time and tells them to shut up but we move!)

[ramblinscramblin]

Got a request/suggestion for you if you like. As headcannons or whatever strikes your fancy.

The team has a new recruit! They are one of the most genuine, patient, friendly, sweetest people one could ever meet. They make everyone breakfast in the mornings, they listen to people's problems, they volunteer at a puppy orphanage, talk down muggers in the street, essentially a bottle of sunshine as a person.

On the battlefield however, they are most certainly one of the scariest people alive. They are incredibly strong and durable, no need for weapons when they can tear people apart with their bears hands and teeth. They are brutal, carnage incarnate, and have absolutely no fear whatsoever.

Now, their sweetness is genuine, they are not faking anything. Outside of battle they are one of the most pleasant, stable people on the team. If ever asked, the best reply they can ever give is "This is a war with no true death. (Thanks to the respawn machine) When you can play a game with no consequences, why not have a little fun? ~"

What do the mercs think about their new teammate? How did they react to seeing their first time on the battlefield? How scary is the game with a player who doesn't care?

Sorry about the length, I got all excited. Romantic or platonic is good, and pick whichever mercs you like to focus on.

→Sweetheart Reader who has a Bloodlust!

Genre: Silliness, general

Characters: Scout, Medic, Pyro, Sniper

Content warning: canon typical violence

Thanks so much for this request! This is such a fun idea! I decided to just pick a few of my favs, also relationship is left fairly ambiguous hope that’s all good! Enjoyyyy ٩( ᐛ )و

Scout

Scout enjoys your sweet side, Scout tends to lean towards supportive types since he doesn’t see much of that from the other mercs.

The two of you get along quickly.

We know he secretly loves being babied so he likes that you make breakfast and do all the cleaning.

He’ll probably make fun of you, calling you the teams maid. You let it slide though, maybe playfully teasing him back.

But ultimately he enjoys having someone around who isn’t totally nihilistic and hasn’t already half given up on being happy, it’s a nice change of pace for him.

All that being said, he doesn’t think you’re going to last a second on the battlefield.

Sure, being all starry eyed and happy go lucky is all good and fine around the base, but that’s the type of stuff that breaks you on the battlefield, respawns or not.

Genuinely tries to talk you out of it the first time you’re set to go out.

“Are you sure you really thought this through? Nobody’d be mad if ya skipped out on us, maybe Pauling has another type-a job for you.”

“Scout, it’s sweet you care so much, but I assure you I have it under control.”

He’s unconvinced so he goes into it feeling the need to protect you.

After he is literally doused in BLU teams blood, it’s pretty glaringly obvious you don’t need him.

Is in genuine awe, hardly fights the whole match, just watches you in… terror? Amazement? Surprise? He’s not exactly sure what he’s feeling, but there is a lot of it.

He’s definitely more wary from that point forward of making any sort of jokes about you.

Medic

Medic is wholly distrusting of your whole “good guy” act.

It might seem nice, and maybe you are but nobody gets into your position by being all smiles all the time he knows that.

Once he does a bit of inspecting on your character and a whole lot of judging, finding out that you are seriously just that golden hearted is a serious surprise to him.

You may point out to him that’s it’s pretty unfair of him of all people to be suspicious, the guy who smiles while doing open heart surgery, which he concedes.

He’s much more receptive to your niceness from then on.

Doesn’t fear so much for your safety on the battlefield, your kindness was not a good enough scale for how you would perform in battle, at least in Medics eyes.

Feels much more drawn to you after seeing your insane side.

Once seeing you on the battlefield he feels he finally has the full picture of who you are, and enjoys your company much more.

Your attitudes of being fairly frivolous on the battlefield have earned the two of you a rather unnerving reputation, but neither of you care, content to be menaces on the ground.

Sniper

Likewise, Sniper is a little suspicious about your behavior.

A puppy shelter? The sweet conversations? Helping at soup kitchens? It’s all a little on the nose for his tastes.

The kicker for him was when you somehow turned a violent drunk man on the street into a weeping mess, talking him through his childhood trauma. You really were just that tooth rottingly sweet.

Gets used to it, keeps his distance, but gets used to it.

After seeing you in battle he is even more put off. Of course, he respects your play, just the same way that he has some base level of respect for his teammates but it never goes beyond that.

He has strict codes he sticks to on the battlefield, and seeing you so lax about respect just sort of rubs him the wrong way.

You two probably don’t end up seeing eye to eye all too often, and may butt heads fairly often because of this.

But at the end of the day, you’re both teammates, and everyone else on the team loves you so much that it makes Mick feel like an asshole for having any negative feelings towards you.

Pyro

Wow! You guys get along so great!

Pyro is the exact same way, relatively beloved due to kindness off the battlefield but feared during the fight.

Pyro adores how kind and compassionate you are, wants to do all your helping stuff with you. Even if they don’t really know how to properly help anyone without starting a fire.

They will “help” with cooking and cleaning, just enjoying trying to be helpful.

You show up in a lot of their pyro land drawings, and they do enjoy spending a lot of time with you, and you them!

Pyro also loves helping out with you on the battlefield! Spreading peace and love is that much easier when you’re by their side.

Or at least… that’s Pyros version of events.

Sorry for the wait, having the worst burnout, but I am pressing on for u guys (￣^￣)ゞ hope you enjoyed!

[the-s1lly-corner]

What its like kissing the creepypasta characters

excluding the characters that im not comfy writing romantic for, for obvious reasons similar to the hugging post this is more so a rating thing instead of actual scenarios! honestly in love with these kinds of posts so im formally asking you guys to give me ideas in this vein because i love making hcs in this format/for general stuff eheheheh

SLENDERMAN:

if youve been on this blog for a while, you would know that i love when characters who dont have mouths/have nontraditional mouths nuzzle and press their face into yours. and i still love the idea, especially with slenderman ! the first time he 'kisses' you its probably the first time hes kissed ANYONE so the movement itself is probably a little... clunky... doesnt press too hard, actually i think he would struggle with the opposite. theyre gentle and fleeting, almost as if his inhuman strength and size would crush you if he let himself truly lean into it. i mean think about it, he hardly ever interacts with humans and when he does its for 'food', he has always only seen them as vulnerable and fragile. and whether malicious or not, he treats you as if youre made of glass. likes kissing the back of your hands too. 7/10, he gets bonus points since hes my fav + its the thought that counts

SPLENDORMAN:

very eager about showing you any level of affection, probably early in the relationship that he gets bold enough to kiss you. first kiss is probably more of a "in the moment" thing than "i planned this out and im going to ask" thing if that makes sense... similar to slenderman in regards that he presses his mouth to you, as i personally headcannon that his smile isnt exactly.. a real mouth, more so a false one. think like a layer of 'skin' covering his real one that he can rip out at any moment (same case for slenderman btw. same also apply to splendors eyes, more so markings than actual eyes). going back to his energy, hes very eager about it, might even lightly push you back with how much hes putting into it; he doesnt mean to, hes just so excited! likes cheek kisses and nuzzling your noses together 8/10

EYELESS JACK:

very wary about kissing you outside of those little pecks, for multiple factors. for one, his teeth. sharp teeth, he can accidentally cut you. other reason thats much darker, given that admin personally hcs that he goes into "frenzies" when hes hungry and reacts to blood like the sharks in finding nemo, if he accidentally cuts you when hes not.. well fed.. for lack of a better term... theres a risk there. REFUSES to kiss when he needs to go 'hunt' soon, not because he doesnt want you or your affection, but he doesnt want to take any risks. outside of that, he doesnt often seek out affection, so youre probably going to have to initiate it, unless hes feeling particularly clingy that day or jealous... hes very cold, please cup your hands on his face and warm him up. likes kissing your lips 6/10

LAUGHING JACK:

has to lean in at an angle in order to not poke you with his nose. has probably accidentally lightly scratched you with it when he got too excited. likes giving you forehead kisses for this reason because you can just angle your head down and he can go to town like that... sometimes leave lipstick marks on you.. if you personally hc that he can take off his makeup then please offer to fix it! hes going to be absolutely over the moon! likes wrapping his arms around you when he kisses you. does lots of kisses in quick succession rather than singular longer ones. probably wakes you up with kisses and greets you with kisses when you come home 8/10 i love him

MASKY/TIM:

nope, sorry. for masky hes not going to be taking off the mask around you at all. so if you want a kiss youre going to have to kiss the mask. though on rare occasions when youre alseep/half awake he will lift up his mask just enough to reveal his mouth and give you a kiss on your face. no particular place that he prefers to kiss you. though as said, its rare when he does this. in fact its not common for masky to seek out affection unless he feels more possessive of you than usual, be it because hes jealous or you are stress or you were just in a dangerous situation. 5/10, not much action but there is still care behind it

now as for tim... i think he would be more willing to give you kisses. probably gives you a quick one before you leave for work or something else, and greets you with one when you return home. thats a sweet thought, i think. more likely to give kisses during cuddle session, tends to kiss your cheek and neck (non sexually) while hes holding you to his chest. ponders. will give you a look if you mess with his sideburns and start giggling 6.5/10 love this man

HOODIE/BRIAN:

hoodie is a little more willing to lift up his mask around you, but only really up to the bottom of his nose. also has no preferred place to kiss you, but he seems to kiss your lips more than the other parts of you. sometimes his facial hair scratches against your skin and tickles. between him and brian i think hoodie is a little more blunt and serious about kissing. not to say hes not a little playful, love me some vaguely playful s/o hoodie hcs. probably picks you up off the ground too to 'trap' you, especially if youre fairly shorter than him (personally hc brian/hoodie is 6'') 7/10 love him

very similar to hoodie but i think he would be even more playful when it comes to you. leans into it when his facial hair starts tickling you, in fact i think it would devolve into him just tickling your sides. funny man. put him in the corner/j. like lj, he likes wrapping his arms around you when kissing you, this man is very into physical touch. will touch you any chance he gets; hand holding, cuddling, hugs, ect ect ect... sometimes starts smiling when you guys kiss so you have to give him a minute because he just has this huge grin on his face 8/10

PUPPETEER:

so you know how i said in the hugging post hes kind of a little shit? you know, literally basking in the fact that youre giving your time and self to him? i think that still applies here, maybe even more so since this is explicitly romantic. likes teasing you if you get flustered during your make out sessions, sometimes bombards you with kisses just to see your face redden... has probably leaned down and tapped his cheek as a silent yet teasing gesture, as if taunting you, letting you be the one to kiss him this once. also very cold, like physically. what being a spirit does to a mf. VERY tall, can easily evade any retaliation you throw his way (ie returning the favor of bombarding him with kisses), though im not sure how long he'd be able to resist.. 6/10

[90ekz]

JJK MENS’ FAVORITE SEX THINGS x1

- feat… satoru, toji, todo, higuruma.

- cont… nsfw, very poor dirty talk (someone teach me how to write ts PLEASE), black!fem!reader, typical dom/sub dynamics, sassy men, established relationships, ts nastyyyyy.

- an… ik this is a kinda random bunch, but i wanted to include some underrated men in here !! pt 2 will be up soon with the favs, don’t worry ;)

GOJO SATORU & FINGERING

this man right here… menace to society.

something about massaging your swollen clit with his thumb while he abuses your g-spot with his three fingers of choice is his favorite thing in the world !!!

using his hands during sex in general is a go-to, he knows exactly what it does to you too mmhm.

something about the way you seem to fall apart so much quicker when he uses his hands, watching so intently as he uses his other to press down on your stomach cs it overstims you :(( hes mean i fear

“mm, yeah? that’s that spot right there baby?”

and GOD FORBID you start complaining about how it’s too much, his lil dumbass is smirking and massaging even deeper while tears start to flow down your warm cheeks. asshole vibes 🙄

“awww you cryin’? such a big girl, i know you can give me one more..”

AOI TODO & TIT-FUCKING

to clarify, he didn’t even know you could do this LMFAO

he’d been eyeing your plush chest all night, the top of your dark areolas peaking above your lounging tank. you being you, you were very aware of this fact, and you indulged him. hugging him from behind, “dropping something down your shirt” and asking him to check for it, all the cliches. that man was blushing bhaddd.

eventually he got so needy and asked you to fuck him like a loser :((

so imagine his surprise when you wet his cock with saliva and begin to massage it between your tits, all the while asking him to tell you how it feels. you pushed your boobs together to tighten around him, not at all missing how his breath stuttered in his chest. that man was starstruck and had to hold back his nut fr :/

“ouuu shit—make that dick cum mama…”

now everytime you wear those low cut shirts around your apartment, hes pulling himself out half mast and slapping it on your plush skin, silently demanding.

TOJI FUSHIGURO & BACKSHOTS

do not get me starteddddd.

he adores watching you come back and grind against his dick, meeting him in the middle. the jiggle of your ass is enough to make him drool with a maniacal smile set on his face.

he’s constantly spilling a mix of praise and degradation, how you’re “such a good slut,” and such. he’ll even let you suck on his fingers if he’s gracious.

he’ll yank up any hairstyle you have at the moment and pound into you even deeper. one hand in your hair, another pressing your arch down to his satisfaction. sometimes if he’s feeling sadistic, he’ll won’t move at all and just admire your rhythm against his cock.

“that’s it, there’s my girl… work for that nut.”

as much as you love toji, your hairstylist does not admire him as much as you do. her personal beef has gone on for the entire 2 year length of your relationship that he’s been fuckin’ up lace glue, pulling out braids, unraveling locs, and frizzing up twists, and she has to be the one to fix ‘em… poor girl :/

HIRUMI HIGURUMA & FACE-SITTING

#1 munch award goes to:

you were being very wary about this, considering it isn’t exactly the safest thing to put all of your weight on top of someone’s face and neck but… he hates breathing apparently ??

you feel his rare smile against your sopping wet hole, and his nose bumping against your clit as you grind rhythmically. his nails print crescents into your thighs and he keeps you in place, and he thinks he could die happy right here.

your slick is dripping down his chin, and his dick is so, so stiff. it’s uncanny how committed he is to this, almost like it’s a job—a duty—to please you.

it’s only when you pull away to let him breathe (a notion that he already established that he didn’t need to do) is his smile replaced with a slight scowl, and he’s mumbling into your thighs for you to keep going.

“get back up here, ‘m not done.”

like ok you suicidal freak ??

[duachai]

MR. CORAZÓN - L.TM

I need you to hold it 'til you can't, I'll reward you

PAIRNG : Lee Taemin X Male Reader

SYNOPSIS : M/n, a BPM trainee gets handpicked personally by his idol to be his backup dancer for an upcoming tour. As the two get closer, M/n learns the importance of taking care of his body, and so does Taemin.

CONTENT WARNING : This is just an excerpt of my writings just to get the fingers typing. The full thing will be posted on my Wattpad, but look out for some full writings over here too !

AUTHOR'S NOTE : I'm a part-time college student and writing is my complete life. I will be taking requests here and there, but it is so totally appreciated if you were able to donate to my Kofi and help support me. If you can't that's totally fine and supporting me here and Wattpad is just as appreciated, cheers!

LINKS : Wattpad | Kofi

Training under BPM Entertainment wasn’t the easiest career M/n could have chosen. There were so many other options for him. His parents wanted him to be a doctor or lawyer, his school friends were working at restaurants and fast food chains around the city, and others his age aimed for content creators or influencers. But M/n wanted to dance.

Dancing was his calling. His life’s purpose, he would say.

For him, dancing was his stress reliever, something that would make him happy no matter what. That’s why when he found out his biggest inspiration and honestly, his celebrity crush, Lee Taemin, would be signing with his company, he nearly fell out.

“Dude, you know Taemin is coming in today? He’s going to lead our dance class, and oh my God, do you think it’s lame if I ask him to make a TikTok with me?”

M/n chuckled, “You’re so easily impressed, Chanwoo. He’s not even here yet.”

Today, was Taemin’s first day he had free with the new company, and he chose to specifically work with the trainees. And on top of that, it was a rumor some trainees would get promoted to work with him for his re-debut EP.

M/n leaned against the mirror after putting his dance bag off to the side. Nest to him, Chanwoo stretched his arms to prepare himself for class. “This is the opportunity of a lifetime, M/n. We could get closer to our favs even faster than it would take for us to debut!”

“It’s just the fast route if you ask me. And it’s probably not permanent,” M/n whined, but even though his words came out nonchalant, he still had a bit of hope in the back of his mind. Maybe this was his break, a chance to get his face out there.

The next hour, the normal dance teacher began proper stretch instruction. For the next half an hour, the talk of Taemin coming dwindled as the end of the class came near. 

“I can’t believe he didn’t come. I put my blood, sweat, and tears into that choreo.” Chanwoo whined, stomping his feet and he dragged his body in defeat.

M/n followed behind dragging his feet as he rolled his neck and worked the kinks out of his neck. He wasn’t as nearly disappointed as his friend, but a part of him wished that maybe Taemin would come and check him out, as selfish as it sounded.

“Anyways, where should we go eat today? My mom brought some kimchi this morning, but I’m sick of it.”

“You should be thankful you have a mom to bring you kimchi, Woo.” M/n sulked, head still draped down as he kicked his feet.

“Uh, you might want to pause those lunch plans,” A voice said. M/n looked up and another trainee awkwardly tugged at his hair, “M/n, you’re being summoned.”

Being summoned was one of the nerve-racking things any trainee went through. It only meant a few things. Best case scenario, you were being picked to debut early. Worst was… you were going home.

M/n was in limbo about the reason for his summon as he stood in the elevator alone. Everything he did over the last few weeks was analyzed in his mind. Did he mess up a choreo? Does his body need to be more fit? Was he lagging behind?

His whole head spun and he started to get dizzy. How was he supposed to go back to his parents and explain he got dropped from what they called, “A silly dream.” At the sound of the elevator’s ding, it was time to face his worst fear. Or so he thought.

The hallway to the director’s office seemed longer than any other hallway in the building. M/n rubbed his moist hands on his sweatpants, adjusting his hoodie to seem more neat.

As he stepped to the director’s door, he could see in the glass panel door there were multiple people inside. Then he realized, this wasn’t a demotion party, this was a meeting of some sort.

“M/n?” His name was called out by a familiar voice. His dance teacher.

“Oh, uh, hi,” M/n bowed respectfully, still so very confused.

“What are you doing standing out here, go in!” The teacher rushed a smile on his lips. Either this was a super encouraging way to tell someone they were getting sent home or something bigger was around the corner for M/n.

M/n pushed the door to the room open, now he could see a clear view of the people inside. The director of course at the head of the table, then his wife who was his co-director, a few managers M/n had never met, the dance teacher taking a seat closest to the door, the trainee advisor, and well… Taemin.

M/n froze up, are all these people here to see him? This meeting seemed way too elite for him to even step foot inside.

“Shin M/n, right? Go ahead and sit down,” the director pointed at a seat down the front of the table. A seat right across from the star legend.

M/n spent a few minutes staring at the wooden glossed-over table, a few papers passing down his way. A couple of times he looked up, locked eyes with Taemin then looked away like a startled puppy.

“Okay, so before we get started, how about I let our trainee introduce himself. M/n, go ahead and stand so everyone can see you.”

M/n reluctantly stood up, feeling so small in a room where everyone was looking intently. “Um, Hi, my name is Shin M/n. I’m from the US. And I’ve been a train for about a year and a half now.”

“Ok and, tell us why you want to be a K-pop idol, M/n.”

Hearing this question M/n drew in a sharp breath. He’d answered this question about a hundred times, but now it was all something cringe and mush in his head in a room full of people where it mattered.

But then he realized, he mattered too.

—

“Okay! Run the song back, M/n.”

Hustling toward the Bluetooth speaker to restart the song the fifth time that night, M/n quickly reset the song and then ran back to his starting point. The song started, Taemin’s voice coming in smooth and sultry as the sensual and iconic beat, “Move” filled M/n and his partner’s ears.

They had been practicing the duo choreography for hours now, but the more they attempted the more frustrated his partner, Misun, got at him.

“Fuck it!” Misun let go of M/n and stomped towards the practice room door with his bag, “I don’t care if you don’t get it right, I’ll switch partners. You won’t embarrass me in front of the whole world.”

M/n took in a deep breath, as he pulled his hair. He was frustrated too. Misun had quit on him a thousand times during their time together. But now, their deadline was coming in close and the tour was not far away. The whole thing was just stressful.

Just as he was about to pack up, he heard a knock at the door. Taemin popped his head around the door frame with a smile, “Knock knock.”

“O-Oh, I didn’t know you were here!” M/n said, startled and embarrassed.

Taemin stepped closer to the dancer, “I saw Misun storm out while I was passing by, and wanted to check on you. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine.” M/n lied, thinking that knew that one of his dancers was lacking this skill and was dancing with two left feet after being picked solely for his dancing, he would be upset.

“No, no, you’re lying.” Taemin said with a pout, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

M/n sighed as he took a seat on the floor next to his bags against the mirror, Taemin sitting right next to him.

“Misun and I… just don’t seem like good partners. I know we’re meant to get what we get and don’t throw a fit like the director said, but working with her is like working with an untrained house cat. One day she’s encouraging, the next she’s clawing at me and everything I do.”

Taemin chuckled, “It’s like that. Working with others can be a lottery. But it’s nothing a little resilience can’t handle,” Taemin reached over and covered his hand with M/n’s resting on his knee, “You're a great performer, you hold yourself up better than most. You just have to believe in yourself. Because I already know I do.”

—

Taemin’s words rang in M/n’s head every second. It made him smile maniacally in the middle of conversations. After their talk, Taemin started monitoring M/n and Misun’s practices, making notes, and helping fix some mistakes. After Misun would leave, Taemin and M/n would go out and get food or drinks.

Their relationship grew closer and closer to the point where M/n had to ask himself, was he falling in love with his idol?

The deadline was due. It was the day everyone learned if they were going on tour with Taemin or being left behind. It was yet another nerve-racking day at the studio where everyone gathered to hear the results.

But when the director came in, everyone’s heart was crushed into tiny little pieces.

“Unfortunately, the tour has been canceled,” He announced, everyone’s shoulders slumping as questions started to form in everyone’s mouths. “I know, I know. But it’s impossible to continue on. Taemin was in an accident that sprained his ankle, so he’ll be taking a rest for a few weeks. He might even need a month to get back to his healthy self.”

As everyone whined about the loss of their gig, M/n’s lips pursed at the thought of Taemin being in an accident to cause him this much pain. The whole rest of the day M/n was anxious about Taemin, thinking of ways he could make sure he was alright.

But as he was sulking outside, a manager approached him. “M/n, M/n! Hey, I’ve got a super emergency, but I need to get this food and meds to Taemin. Could you possibly take it to someone else to give it to him?”

It was more like a request because before M/n could respond the bags were in his hand and the manger was off to his car. M/n stood there stumped for a second before smiling, this was his opportunity to go see Taemin.

It took about an hour to convince a staff to let him go see Taemin personally, he made up some bullshit about him being asked specifically to do this task, and if they didn’t help they’d have to answer to the director. It was stupid, but it worked.

M/n’s legs felt like complete jelly as he walked to Taemin’s apartment door. Traveling in Korea was nothing like the US, and even though he spent so much time there already it never felt to humble him as he got winded every time.

While catching his breath he might have accidentally walked into the door because a few moments later, Taemin opened the door slightly to see a hunched-over M/n clutching his chest.

“M/n? Are you okay?”

“Huh?” M/n said instantly lifting and straightening himself up, “What, oh yeah, I’m totally fine! H-Here… medicine.” M/n exclaimed, awkwardly handing Taeming the bags of convenience store foods and painkillers.

Confused, but concerned about M/n, Taemin opened the door more and stepped to the side, “Come in, you look like you could use some AC and water.”

Resting on the couch together, M/n watched as Taemin devoured his meal as if he hadn’t eaten for days. M/n giggled at the food filling in Taemin’s mouth, stuffing his cheeks like a tiny squirrel.

“You’ve got something there,” M/n chuckled, extending his arm over to Taemin’s face as a bit of rice stuck to the corner of his mouth. M/n’s thumb swiped over Taemin’s lips to catch the rice. Stunned, Taemin froze as M/n lifted his hand to his own mouth, parted his lips, and sucked the flavor off it.

There was something so sensual about that movement, in Taemin’s mind everything was in slo-mo, M/n eyes gazing right into his almost like a seductive taunt. An invite.

Tempted, Taemin’s arm snaked up to M/n’s wrist and he pushed himself atop of M/n, hands now above him, “Is this what you want?” A shiver ran down M/n’s spine, his question burning his skin up. Is cozying up close with your idol really the move? But at this point, Taemin was more than just a celebrity. He was a muse, a sexy muse. But was this a mistake?

“I want to, I do. I just-”

“Thinking about if people will find out?” Taemin said, cutting out M/n’s concerns for display like he was inside his brain. But Taemin reassured M/n with a kiss on the forehead and a sentence that would change their relationship forever.

“Follow your body, it knows you want my touch.”

It didn’t take long for the two to be stumbling into the bedroom in each other’s arms, sloppy kisses and clothes parting with skin onto the floor.

As Taemin sat M/n down on the bed, his tongue worked around in his mouth as one of his hands lightly tilted the dancer’s chin up, the other wrapped around his neck gently squeezing.

“Look at me, baby,” Taemin sang pulling back away from M/n who whined slightly at the loss of the heat on his lips.

“I got you tonight.”

[okchijt]

Can you do romantic yandere Adam x reader hazbin hotel alphabet? :)))

Author's Note: YES, I ABSOLUTELY CAN!!! Sorry not sorry but he's my fav so this request single-handedly cured my writer's block lmao. The amount of love I have for this sexist narcissistic man is unreal, which I know sounds bad... BUT I DON'T CARE HE'S THE BEST! And lastly, go ahead and check out my masterlist if you like what you just read and if you want to request anything yourself, thank you, and enjoy!🩷

Possible Trigger Warnings: Some minimal NSFW that is only mostly mentioned a few times with no explicit detail.

Adam -> Yandere Alphabet

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

You're the only person he's affectionate with and genuinely so. It's not just about sex or a quick fling with you like some other angels/winners he was seeing before you. He holds a much deeper type of feeling for you, something he didn't even have with Lilith or Eve, and unlike with them, Adam isn't planning on letting you go no matter what, even if you're willing in the relationship or not. For that reason alone, I feel like he'd be pretty intense with it: heated make-out sessions, ''inappropriate'' grabbing, be that your ass or thighs, and just possessive holding on the waist or around the shoulder in general. He puts on this act in public so the others won't catch on to how low he has fallen with the way he feels about you, he doesn't want his ''cool guy'' image to be tarnished just because he's soft for you. But in private he's more gentle, considerate, and even pathetic with how he treats you, always asking for permission or where you would like to be touched.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Not at all. You're obviously up in Heaven with him and it's not like Adam has any interest in making Heaven his personal blood bath, so he's pretty chill. If you were an Exterminator like him though, he would get pretty messy, wanting to impress you with how gruesomely and fast he finishes the enemy. He wants to show just how powerful he is and that he's the only one you should depend on. But if you're just a regular angel or winner, then you obviously don't know anything about his "work-life", so like I said at the beginning, he's pretty chill...mostly

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Only if you'd tick him off, by which I mean disobeying him or acting out. He'd be like: "Oh, boohoo, stop your fucking whining and get over it! You're fucking mine now, bitch!" Or anything along those lines. He'd basically refer to you like you're inferior to him and say that you should be grateful that the Adam graces you with his time and presence. Which is funny because no matter how much Adam likes to pretend you're below him, he secretly worships you and thinks you're his God. So even though Adam has his occasional slip-up of being way too aggressive and mean to you than he intends to be, he always tries to make it up to you later in some way. Even though he won't admit to it, he always feels guilty for treating you horribly, so don't be surprised when you hear a very half-assed apology from him or a present of some kind to indicate he is sorry, because he genuinely does feel guilty even if his words or actions don't portray that in the best of ways.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Yes, that being quality time together and affection. If you're well-behaved, you'd be allowed to walk around Heaven "freely" with him. But only on the condition that all of your time and attention is on him, you're not allowed to go anywhere alone without him. You wanna go bawling? Eat somewhere? Just hang out outside? That's fine, as long Adam is right next to you. So basically no privacy. Adam does not hold back on affection, whether in private or in public his arm/hand is either always on you or around you. He may be super clingy, but he's considerate enough to stop touching you in any inappropriate way out in public if you tell him to. Which he gets super bummed over and will beg you relentlessly to let him be bolder with his affection for you, no matter the answer he will respect it, apprehensively, but he will.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Adam, vulnerable? Never. Even though you are the only person he would ever wanna be or feel so exposed with, he's just too prideful and insecure to let himself do that. He feels like he shouldn't feel anything but good about himself and to always act like the top dog no matter how he truly feels. You'd really have to try hard to get him to open up to you like that, but no matter how close you get you'll just be faced with a greatly angered Adam. Bearing his heart to you comes off as easier for him though. He's super confident about it, even though his wording sounds extremely awkward, showing just how new he is to actually loving someone in the way he loves you. You can always tell he's forcing himself to sound more considerate or romantic, he means everything he says of course, it just sounds fake because it comes out of his mouth so it feels uncanny even for him.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Just a bunch of irritated and confused cursing as he tries to calm you down. He doesn't necessarily curse at you, he just does as he struggles to come up with anything that won't be him just screaming at you and calling you names. But to answer the question directly, he doesn't like it, mostly. There is a tiny bit of him that does enjoy it because he finds you hot when you're angry, but he'll still much rather you not try to kick and bite him just to escape you're shared home. Adam would try to restrain you as fast and gently as possible, pinning you down and holding you're wrists behind your back before pushing you to a secluded room and locking you in there till you calm down.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Adam is certainly amused by your attempts of trying to get away, but it doesn't mean he endorses it or doesn't get bored of it quickly. If you do it frequently then he'd just become more and more irritated, struggling to keep himself composed and not accidentally hurt you or your feelings. Not to mention, at some point, he'd realized how fucked he'd be if you did escape and anyone would find out that he kidnapped you so he gets more stressed and forceful with keeping you in instead of out. So it's a no for the most part.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Hard to say... I think it depends on what kind of person you are and how much are you willing to tolerate when in regards to your kidnapper. Adam is loud, clingy, possessive, narcissistic, insecure, prideful, arrogant, disrespectful, immature, ignorant, selfish, etc. I could go all day honestly. Point is, if you're someone who could not handle one or more of his traits on the daily, then I'd say every day with Adam is like a nightmare to you probably.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Nothing too crazy, just you finally accepting that you belong with him and reciprocate his feelings. Adam just wants you to want him in the same way he wants you, living a normal and loving domestic life together, is that too much to ask?

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Adam is the jealous type! He thinks that everyone, even Lute is in some way trying to steal you away from him. He lashes out at those he deems as a threat, never outwardly blaming you for others getting in the way. Adam is immensely paranoid about you leaving or someone stealing you away, he won't let anyone steal his love away a third time. Lilith and Eve abandoning him, really left a huge scar on Adam, therefore him letting you form any sort of friendship is under his watch only. No ifs or buts, his insecure self is the one deciding who is "trustworthy" enough to spend time with you without them stealing you away. Not like he'll ever leave you alone with the person anyway.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

I've already touched on it, but Adam views you the same way he views God, someone who should be worshipped and treated as such. The only problem is that Adam is far too insecure and prideful to treat you the way he wants to openly. He has a "reputation" to uphold in the eyes of his fellow angels so out in the open he's pretty much the same as ever, except with a little hint of softness and consideration that is only ever reserved for you. He'd try to be more gentle with you, not curse so much around you or at you, not be so loud around you, basically not be the usual ass he is. Though him being better for you is a struggle and he does slip up more often than he'd like to admit, he still won't stop trying. Anything to gain your approval and affection.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Courting? What is that? This is "Dickmaster" we're talking about! He should be able to get you without even trying! It always worked before so why shouldn't he expect you to fall right into his arms like everyone else? But low and behold the shock he gets from you doing the opposite. You mean, he actually has to try this time??? Well, you're in luck! Cause if this was anyone else, Adam would have given up right then and there, but this is you we're talking about and he hasn't felt this way about anyone since... Ever really. So he'd approach you like he does everyone else but with a hint of anxiety to it and a very subtle change in his demeanor where he's surprisingly sweet and gentle with you.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Not really, no. Already said it a few times before, but the way he treats you is the same as he does with everyone else with a subtle difference here and there. Adam doesn't even acknowledge half the time when his dickish humor and loud yelling suddenly shifts into soft pleading and gentle touches when he's alone with you.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

We already know Adam is sadistic and cruel just from the way he views the Exterminations as entertainment and the way he treats the sinners as trash to throw around without any regard, making the contrast drastic when it comes to you. Whether you're aware of Exterminations or not, it's surprising how this man won't even dream of putting his hands on you in any way with an intent to harm you. He basically punishes you as if you were a child: time out, no TV, no ice cream/snacks, being locked in your room, etc. It sounds degrading and it would feel that way if it weren't for the fact he sounds absolutely clueless and guilty as he enforces his punishments on you, because in reality, he has no idea what he's doing. It's laughable really with how hard he's trying to discipline you while failing at the same type because of how childish his methods are.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Just the ability to be anywhere or do anything without him. Okay, maybe not that extreme, but it depends. Like, going outside without him is a big no-no that will not be tolerated without him being with you, it will immediately result in one of his punishments back at home. The same goes with spending time or even talking with others, he has to be next to you to monitor the situation, he's not happy about letting you talk to others, but he'll put up with it if it means you warming up to him for it. That's pretty much it, you're free to roam and do whatever inside the house. It's just outside of it does Adam step in and dictates what you can or can't do.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Adam is not a patient man by any means. With you, however? He struggles but tries to be as patient with you as he can. If you don't disobey him or fight back in any way then he acts like his usual clingy self around you. He's surprisingly patient with you slowly letting him in, sure he still forces his affections onto you, but he'll back away the moment you tell him to. Adam more than anything wants you to finally submit yourself to him so he can go as far with you as he desires, so he'll be patient with you as long as you need. After all, he's not only with you so you can please him, if it were about that he wouldn't have you locked up in his home with him, would he?

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

No, never. That would break him. His first and second wife left him for the most hated being in all of creation and the sole reason evil even exists in the world. And now you, someone who at some point he realized you outshine both Lilith and Eve in every aspect, his perfect little angle/winner. Adam would go through Hell and back just to have you back with him, destroying everything and anyone in his path who dares to keep you two apart. Death is not an option and escaping/leaving is hardly a possibility with how glued to you he is 24/7. But if you did manage to somehow get out while you can, there would never be a time of day when you wouldn't have to look over your shoulder in fear he won't eventually find you. Because he will. He will always find you.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

No, and no. Such a thought won't ever even cross his mind! You should feel honored that out of everyone he picked you! You belong together, and Adam knows you'll someday feel the same about him. He's never willingly letting you go, that's for sure.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

His last two serious relationships left a huge psychological scar on Adam, one that he pretends doesn't exist by being a huge ass. Since his last wife left him, he hasn't fallen in love with anyone until he met you, or at least not in such an odd way. He hasn't been this happy since his time in the Garden of Eden! You sparked him back to life in such a way his previous relationships could never achieve, and he intends to keep it that way.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Instant internal panic. He hates seeing you like this, seeing you at your lowest really bothers him. You really bring out the humane part of him with how bad and guilty he feels seeing you in such a state. Which only makes the situation worse cause he has no idea what to do or how to help you. He'll do just about anything to get you to stop crying/screaming, put on a show for you, give you gifts, get your favorite snacks, try to gently calm you down, and even hug you if you let him. If you're isolating though, surprisingly he will give you some space for a bit, hoping you'll deal with whatever it is you're dealing with eventually. But if hours run by and you're still sulking in the corner, he's right by your side trying anything to cheer you up, and again, try to wrap his arms around you as he whispers sweet reassuring words into your ear and kisses your cheek. Adam at no point knows what he's doing or how to help you exactly, never been forced into a position of comforting someone, he just knows he hates seeing you like this and has to find a way to help you before he starts to get annoyed and potentially lash out at you, and lord knows he doesn't want that to happen.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

He doesn't kill his ''competition''. You're both up in Heaven and he can't exactly harm or kill one of his fellow angels or winners just because he's jealous, it would only risk you two becoming fallen or worse, you being taken away from him. None of these options would ever happen, but if they did somehow come true, you better know Adam is fighting tooth and nail to get you back, even if it results in his own downfall.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Pretending to finally have fallen for him. While a little suspicious at first, if you play your cards right, you can easily fool him into believing you reciprocate his feelings. Adam is instantly over the moon the minute you say you finally love him, he has his arms wrapped around you in a second before kissing you all over. He feels like he's smitten for you all over again, instantly bending to your every call and whim. You can easily exploit him into letting you do whatever you want, like easily returning to whatever life you had before meeting Adam and pretending like you being kidnapped and forced to love him never happened. The only downside is that he's more clingy and affectionate than ever, never leaving you alone for long, and if you want to be able to have your old life back then be prepared to pretend to love him for the rest of your eternal days! Because once Adam catches on that you've been lying, your relationship is instantly brought back to how it used to be, except it's worse because whatever freedom you once had before this whole fiasco is gone. It feels like his past is back to haunt him, reliving does same scars both of his wives left him, instantly becoming colder and meaner toward you for some time, it will take a long time for Adam to forgive you and trust you again, if ever.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

No, absolutely not. Surprising isn't it? But with how highly he views you without you even realizing, he'd rather have the Exterminations be completely disbanded altogether if it means him never purposefully harming you. Sure, he may be a little too forceful with you sometimes or accidentally go too far but he never means to, he even immediately jumps away from you like a scared cat if he even hears you let out a pained sound from the way he's holding you. Adam sucks at apologizing or feeling empathy in general, but with you, it's a whole different story. His apologies still come off as somewhat forced or like he doesn't mean them, but he truly does and will do and say just about anything if it means you forgiving him and letting him hold you again.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

You are his sole purpose and the only thing he cares and thinks about 24/7. Of course, he worships you! Well, not openly at least. He's just scared that if anyone else catches on to how he really feels about you his reputation would go down the drain and he can't let that happen! That's why you'll only see this worshipping side of him in private, only then will you experience Adam sitting on his knees in front of you, begging for you to finally let him in and let him love you, showering you with endless praise while doing so. He'll do and say just about anything to finally win you over. He's a closeted simp is what I'm getting at.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

A week at most before he decides he should just steal you away to have you all to himself. I say this cause at the beginning Adam does try to court you like he did his previous dates before deciding you're different and matter so much more to him than anyone ever could or did. He can't even comprehend not living without you and letting you slip away so might as well just speed up the process of you living in his home with him like the happy couple you are! Not.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Depending on your tolerance of his general bullshit self, maybe??? I'm more inclined to say no though. Adam would never strive to break you on purpose, heck the more you refuse his love the faster he'll be the one to break in the relationship. But seriously, I don't think it's possible to break being with Adam, at most you're always annoyed with him and hate life but that's about it.

[pomefioredove]

new fav twst fic author just dropped lmao I love you sm 😂 💕

btw can I ask for an angsty fic abt reader being scared of falling in love w someone? yk like instead of butterflies in their stomach, it feels bad, demeaning and gross? like, in the end they don't realize they're in love bc of how afraid it makes the reader, but ends up sucking it up bc of a valuable friendship? yk, like love it-hate it?

but pick whichever character u want, feel like this would work out w a few of them 👀

thank you!! and OHHH I love this genre of angst... I'm very like this as a person. my immediate reaction was vil but I've done a similar prompt with him in the past so I'm branching out

summary: all is fair in love and war type of post: short fic characters: lilia additional info: ambiguously romantic, angsty, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu but kinda is?

Love and hate are emotions too close for comfort.

It's times likes these that remind you of why Aphrodite and Ares were always tangled in affair, why the hands of love and war fit so nicely together.

Red is the color of both romance and blood.

The heart doesn't distinguish between the heat of passion and the heat of battle, and there's really nothing quite pleasant about that feeling: it's sticky, uncomfortable, warm and wet, making a home in every divot of your skin. It dries on you like blood.

Sometimes, you wonder if being stabbed would be easier.

After all, physical pain, perhaps, is preferable to the dizzying sensation of a beating heart, so noticeable that you can almost taste it from the back of your throat.

...This unwelcome, intrusive feeling, a thief in the night, a sudden loud noise, something that no amount of deep breathing and waiting can seem to quell.

It's not so much longing as it is torture.

You resent yourself for feeling this way. For the way your stomach turns, as if sick, every time you see him.

For the way you can't seem to stop thinking about it, about him, about every little thing he does, about every little question he leaves you with. It's a form of obsession, though one you struggle to resist.

Some days you fantasize about interrogating him until he explains all that he is, so that you might understand why it's him, of all people, him.

But that would never work.

Lilia Vanrouge enjoys keeping the fine print to himself, always leaving you guessing, always leaving you hungry for more. He does it on purpose, he knows, but he enjoys playing this game of cat and mouse far too much to ever finish the kill.

...At first, you did see it as a sort of game. Now, it feels more like a trap, and one that you so eagerly and stupidly walked into.

And yet, still, you can't find it within yourself to resent him. You can't find a way to accuse him of sorcery, of bewitching you, because you know, deep down, that this is your own doing.

You were the one who set the trap. Who started the war.

It was you, you, who blindly ran into battle, armed with nothing but your wits and the pit in your stomach. You were destined to lose from the beginning.

This... feeling. The one that makes your stomach turn, that makes you dizzy, that poisons your mind and senses and turns you stupid and hungry and obsessive, it's your own doing.

And you could just as likely kill it off, swing your blade of reason down on its sickly, thin neck and just be over with it.

But you won't.

And that's the other half of the battle.

For as much as it haunts you, as it tortures you, as it makes you toss and turn at night fantasizing about answers and wars and traps, you want to lose. You want to play this game with him.

Now, it's simply a question of who will strike the final blow.