#like have a laugh and don’t be too serious about it

[arislore]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚જ⁀➴ NSFW Alphabet

Pairing: Inexperienced!Spencer Reid x Profiler!Reader

Summary: A fun little list of NSFW headcanons organized by the first letter of each topic. Enjoy!

Tags: established relationship, spencer was a virgin when y’all got together, oral (f & mentions of m receiving), slight medical play, sexy use of statistics, male masturbation, mentions of anal

Warnings: Most of these are paragraphs but there are a couple of letters that i kind of gave up on.

Word Count: 1.9k

A: Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s exhausted, but he manages to stay awake long enough to clean you up and talk to you until you fall asleep. He’ll rub little soothing circles into your skin and hold your head on his chest, letting you count his heartbeats.

B: Body Part (their favorite body part, both on their own body and their partner’s)

His favorite body part on himself has to be his hands, because he loves watching you fall apart on them. His favorite body part of yours is definitely your eyes. He loves to see how they squint when you’re confused, how they crinkle when you’re happy, and how they gloss over when you get needy for his touch. He also loves when he makes you feel so good that you start to cry, just from how overwhelmed you are.

C: Cum (anything to do with cum)

As we all know, Spencer is a germaphobe, so when you first had sex with him, he cringed when he felt his cum flood the condom. After you explained that you were on the pill, he was ecstatic that he didn’t have to use one again. He doesn’t mind dirtying you, though–one of his favorite things to do is cum inside of you when you don’t have time to clean up, and you’re forced to walk around with it in your underwear. You almost wrung his neck when he did this on a case.

D: Dirty Secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

He secretly really likes being called “Doctor” during sex, and when you figure this out, you don’t let him go a single day without rubbing it in his face. In the bullpen, you’ll move in front of him, brushing your ass against his crotch with a quiet, “Excuse me, Dr. Reid,” just to hear his breath get caught in his throat. When you bring him his coffee (no cream, but ten tablespoons of sugar), you’ll set it down in front of him, placing a hand on his bicep, all sultry, saying, “Here you go, Doctor.” It doesn’t hurt that he looks incredibly sexy wearing his crime scene gloves.

E: Experience (how experienced are they?)

He was a virgin when he met you. He’d kissed Lila in the pool nearly a decade prior, and he had a long-distance relationship with Maeve, but he had never actually gotten further than a single make-out session. When you touched him for the first time, he was so sure he had died and gone to heaven. He couldn’t fathom a world where someone as beautiful as you could love someone like him.

F: Favorite Position (goes without saying)

He loves any position where he gets to see your face. He loves watching you react to each little touch, watching your mouth contort in pleasure as you beg him for more. He prefers missionary, but he’s more than happy to have you on top when he’s too tired to do the work. But if he can’t see your face, it’s just not as good for him.

G: Goofy (how serious are they in the moment?)

He’s serious, but sometimes, when he’s nervous, he’ll start rattling off statistics about sex, which made you laugh at first, but now it just turns you on even more. When you taught him how to eat pussy, he responded with, “Right, because only eighteen percent of women can reach orgasm from penetration alone.”, which left you speechless. The first time you guys used toys, you were a little embarrassed that you needed it in the first place, and he said, “You know, eighty-two percent of women use sex toys. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

H: Hair (how well groomed are they? does the curtain match the drapes?)

His pubic hair is tinted red, although he doesn’t have much of it. You didn’t mind at first that he didn’t trim it, but when you started going down on him more, it bothered you, and he immediately started manscaping each time he showered.

I: Intimacy (how romantic are they in the moment?)

To Spencer, sex is all about you. He doesn’t even care if he gets off, although it’s an added bonus. He’s always holding your hand, or rubbing soothing circles into your hip as you get overwhelmed. For him, foreplay is the best part. He loves to tease you for as long as you can stand it. Kissing, biting, licking all over your body, leaving little marks and bruises. He just wants you to know how loved you are.

J: Jack Off (masturbation headcanons)

He rarely touched himself before he met you. Even though it took years for either of you to work up the courage to admit your feelings to one another, he noticed nearly everything about you, from the way you pouted when you didn’t get your way (and god, he wanted to see your lips wrapped around his cock), to the way you chest heaved when you were out of breath (why couldn’t he be the one to get to you react that way?). All he could think about around you was sex, and he needed to have an outlet for that somewhere.

K: Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He loves when you sit on his face. At first, you were nervous–you didn’t want to hurt him, and you had a friend who broke her neck because her girlfriend sat on it too hard. He joked that if he were to die, he'd die a happy man, but that didn’t help. After enough coaxing, you eventually did it, and realized that you were kind of stupid for not doing it before, and he was stupid good with his tongue.

L: Location (favorite place to have sex)

He prefers a bed above all else, but he won’t say no if you pull him into a storage closet because you just can’t keep your hands off of him any longer. Honestly, he’d do it anywhere you asked–even a car, although he doesn’t fit that well and it hurts his back. Out of the two of you, you’re definitely the more adventurous one, but he doesn’t mind–it’s just a new experience for him to try.

M: Motivation (what turns them on?)

If you asked him, he’d say that you breathing turns him on, which is true, but what really gets him going is when you absentmindedly play with him, whether it’s his hands, his sleeve, or his collar, it’s like all the blood rushes to his cock and he’s so lightheaded he might pass out. He knows it’s wrong, but sometimes when you yelp in pain, he has to do breathing exercises to calm down.

N: No (something they wouldn’t do / turn offs)

He can’t bring himself to do anal. Not just because it hurts you, but also because it’s kind of gross.

O: Oral (do they prefer giving or receiving? what’s their skill level?)

He loves to give head. If he’s honest, he’d be happy if you never went down on him again, as long as he gets to eat your pretty pussy for the rest of his life. He wasn’t very good at it at first, but he’s a quick learner, and by the end of the first time, he made you see stars you didn’t know existed.

P: Pace (how fast or slow are they?)

If you’re both frustrated, he’ll fuck you hard and fast, but typically, he likes to be slow and gentle. He wants you to feel each inch as he fills you, each drag of his cock inside of you. Rationally, he knows the two of you could have sex whenever you want, but irrationally, he never wants it to end. The longer he keeps you cumming, the longer he gets to have with you.

Q: Quickies (their opinion on quickies)

He doesn’t like them very often, but if you have a couple cases back to back like you did after the pig farm, he’s ecstatic when you pull him aside for a quick fumble in the dark.

R: Risk (do they like to experiment?)

Everything is an experiment for this man, since he’s never really done anything before you. He’s happy with it though, and he’d do anything you asked him to, as long as you really wanted it. If you told him to hop on one foot naked on a balcony he thinks he would do it. You would never ask that, though, which he’s grateful for.

S: Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long can they last?)

The first time he fucked you, he lasted a total of five seconds. He was super embarrassed, of course, but with time, his stamina grew and he can fuck you for nearly a half an hour now, maybe even longer if he takes breaks. He knows the average time it takes for a man to orgasm is seven minutes, so he’s grateful he finally beat that statistic.

T: Toys (do they use toys? how?)

He doesn’t use toys on himself, but he loves to use them on you. He loves to see you writhe when he uses a vibrator on your clit, drinking in your high-pitched moans when he changes the position or setting. He doesn’t use dildos on you often, but every once and a while, it’s nice to watch you get fucked and actually be able to pay attention to something other than holy shit you’re so wet oh my god, because usually, he can’t.

U: Unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

He’ll tease you for days if he has the chance, leaving you a pathetic, wet mess until he finally gives in and touches you exactly how you need.

V: Volume (how loud are they?)

Spencer Reid is nothing if not vocal. He’s always babbling about how good you’re doing, how good you feel, how badly and how long he’s wanted this. He can’t help but whine and moan pathetically when you touch him, and he’s not too shy to beg for what he wants.

W: Wildcard (a random headcanon)

He’ll never admit it to anyone, not even himself, but he thinks it’s hot when you cry, as long as you aren’t upset. He loves to kiss and wipe away your tears, and he hates how his cock twitches when your eyes get all glossy. You actually noticed before he did, but you never said anything because you don’t want to embarrass him.

X: X-Ray (what’s going on under those clothes?)

He’s tall and slender, with a very low body fat content. He doesn’t work out very often, which leads him to still be soft on his stomach and chest. He’s got hair, but it’s very light and you can barely see it, outside of the tuft in his pants. His cock is long, thick, and cut, with a shiny red tip when he’s hard.

Y: Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Before he met you, he didn’t think he’d ever have sex, but then he laid eyes on you, and he’s been eternally horny ever since.

Z: Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s tired, but he can stay up until you fall asleep–just know, he’s not that far behind you.

[yuons]

IN EQUILIBRIUM, 一目ぼれ

──── in between loving and longing

缘分。 sim jaeyun x f!r .. ╱ 15OO+ o — angst fluff。 cau ! tion profanity jealousy toxicity guilt tripping jake is a douche non-est rs orbit

sinossi. jake didn’t think stringing you along would have consequences— until he sees you with someone else. he told himself it wouldn’t matter, that your attention wasn’t something he needed to begin with. so why is he chasing after you now? so desperate to pull you back, losing you was never part of the plan, but he needed you back into his orbit.

REBLOGS ◜◡◝ FEEDBACKS

jake’s jaw tightens, his fingers curling around the glass in his hand.

he doesn’t know what it is — why it bothers him so much — but watching you stand there, laughing with him, sends something sharp and bitter through his chest. it’s like an itch just beneath his skin, something he can’t reach, can’t soothe.

it’s not like you’re his.

he was the one stringing you along, keeping you at arm’s length, refusing to let things get too serious. but god, seeing you smile at someone else like that? like he’s the only one in the room? it makes his stomach twist in a way he doesn’t want to analyze.

he hates it— no, he despises it. despises the way that guy stands too close, how effortlessly he pulls your laughter from you, laughs that should only be his to hear. he wants to walk over, wrap an arm around your waist, and remind you exactly where you belong. wants to watch the light in that guy’s eyes flicker out as he realizes he never stood a chance.

he wants to scare that guy away, make sure he never even thinks about you again. wants to back you against a wall, kiss you until your mind goes blank. until he’s the only name you can remember, the only one you want to remember.

but all he can do is stand there, jaw clenched, watching from a distance. jake’s grip tightens around his drink, knuckles turning white before he forces himself to take a slow sip, the bitterness of the alcohol nowhere near as suffocating as the simmering hatred clawing at his ribs.

jay says something, some meaningless conversation jake barely registers. he nods along absently, eyes still locked on you. it’s only when jay goes quiet that the words finally break through.

“ah,” jay hums, tilting his head towards you. “your girl found a new guy?”

jake finally looks away, exhaling sharply, “don’t know what you’re talking about”

jay lets out a laugh, shaking his head, “come on, man. we all know this ‘she’s just a friend’ bullshit is a lie” he leans in, voice dropping just enough to twist the knife, “you’re fucking in love with her.”

jake’s jaw clenches, a muscle ticking as he fights to keep his expression neutral, “i’m not.”

he’s not.

“right,” jay drawls, unconvinced. then he shrugs, taking a slow sip of his own drink, watching, “so him doing that to her doesn’t bother you, huh?”

jake barely hears the words before his head snaps back to you. and then he sees it.

sees him.

that guy. his hand creeping lower, fingers inching dangerously close to your ass.

that finally ticked him off.

the glass in his hand slams onto the bar, the sound sharp, final. his body moves before his mind can catch up, legs carrying him across the room, hands flexing unconsciously in the pocket of his jacket.

in a few strides, jake’s hand lands on the guy’s shoulder. not hard, not rough. just firm enough to make a point. almost friendly. almost.

the guy turns, brows furrowing slightly, confused by the sudden contact.

“hey,” jake says smoothly, voice light, almost casual. “nice to meet you. name’s jake.”

your head snaps up at the sound of his voice, but he doesn’t look at you, doesn’t acknowledge you. his attention is locked on the guy in front of him, his grip tightening just enough to make the other man shift uncomfortably.

the guy blinks, clearly caught off guard, “oh, it’s-”

jake doesn’t let him finish.

“never seen you before,” he cuts in, tilting his head slightly, “how’d you get in? this party’s invite-only” his tone is different now, still smooth, but sharper. each word laced with something edged. “did you sneak in?”

the guy’s expression twists, offense flashing across his face, “what? no, i didn’t—”

jake hums, unconvinced, and then — before the guy can even process it — his hand leaves his shoulder and finds your waist, fingers curling around you, possessive, unyielding.

“well, if you were invited, you would’ve already known this is my girlfriend.” his voice drops lower, a rough undertone creeping into it. his jaw clenches, his fingers press into your side as his eyes lock onto the guy’s, “and i don’t like people putting their hands on what’s mine.”

the guy exhales sharply, stepping back instinctively, his gaze flicking between you and jake.

jake doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. he just watches, silent... daring him to make the wrong move.

the guy swallows hard, hands lifting in surrender, “i’m so sorry. i didn’t know- i should just- i’m going now,” his voice stumbles over itself, his feet following soon after as he disappears into the crowd without a second glance.

and just like that, he’s gone.

your hands are on jake in an instant, pushing him away, and only then does he finally look at you.

you’re pouting.

fuck.

he wants to kiss it away. grab your face, press his lips to yours until you forget why you’re mad. but he knows better. knows that spark in your eyes, the way your breath comes just a little sharper, the way your arms cross tightly over your chest.

you look adorable when you’re mad.

and hot.

you always look hot.

“what the hell was that?” your voice is sharp, cutting through the pulsing music around you.

jake shrugs, mouth set in a tight line, “he was about to borderline assault you.”

“i’m not talking about that, jake.”

his eyebrows draw together, “then what?”

you scoff, looking away. is he seriously that dumb?

“i told you last week i wanted to distance myself from you. what part of that don’t you understand?”

jake pressed his lips in a tight line, irritation creeping into his features, “it’s not like i followed you here.”

“i’m not saying you did,” you snap. “i’m saying, why can’t you let me talk to other guys?”

his jaw locks, “because.”

your brows lift, “because what?”

a muscle in his jaw ticks, “because all those guys are terrible.”

a dry, humorless laugh leaves your lips, “oh, and you’re not?”

jake stiffens, but before he can even attempt to answer, you press on.

“i mean, let’s think about it,” you say, voice dropping into something mocking, “you did make out with my enemy in front of the entire school— but, oh, you said sorry, so i guess now we’re even, right?”

your words land like a punch, sharp and unforgiving.

jake exhales slowly through his nose, his fingers fidgeting at his sides. he doesn’t have a comeback for that.

not one that would fix anything.

not one that would make you stay.

“that’s what i thought.” your voice is sharp. but underneath it, below all the anger, there’s something emotional, something that longs for all his actions to be untrue.

jake doesn’t say a word, just stares. his silence feels heavier than anything he could’ve said.

and it pisses you off.

“you know what?” you let out a breathless laugh, “just go date her. i don’t fucking care anymore. clearly, you value her over our—” you pause, the word thick in your throat before you spit it out like it disgusts you. “our nothing.”

jake flinches.

good.

the same word he threw at you a week ago. the same word that took everything you ever were to him and reduced it to dust. nothing.

you take a step back, maybe to ground yourself, maybe to put some distance between you.

“now, if you’ll excuse me, i’m gonna go find that guy again, because at least he’s nice. and at least he doesn’t” you pause, glaring at jake, “at least he doesn’t make me feel like this.”

jake suddenly moves forward, desperate, like his body acts before his mind can catch up, "don't go."

it’s barely above a whisper, maybe you imagined it.

you wish you did.

you act like you did.

but you hesitate.

and jake catches it. the way your breath catches, the way your fingers curl into your palms like you’re trying to hold yourself together.

“please.”

that one word, the way his voice breaks on it, makes something inside you stutter.

“i” his hands twitch at his sides, like he wants to reach for you but knows he shouldn’t, “i’m so sorry. i didn’t know what came over me when she kissed me, and i haven’t slept since, and knowing you hate me and it’s fucking killing me, i don’t know what to do—”

his voice cracks again, and your chest tightens.

“you have every right to hate me,” he whispers, “but please. please don’t leave me.”

you squeeze your eyes shut.

you shouldn’t turn around, you should just walk away, you should make him feel every ounce of pain you’ve felt for the past week.

but you do turn around.

and you wish you didn’t.

because hell.

jake looks wrecked. his eyes are red, tears slipping down his face, jaw clenched like he’s physically trying to stop himself from breaking down completely.

you hate him.

you told yourself you despise and loathe him.

so why are your hands reaching for him?

jake’s breath stutters when your fingers brush against his skin, cupping his face, your thumbs swiping away his tears. his eyes flutter shut, like he’s afraid that if he moves, you’ll pull away.

and maybe it was because of how cold his skin is compared to yours, or the tears that keep falling, you know that you don’t want to let go.

𝗷𝘂𝗻𝗶 : this is one of my experimental pieces so i hope it will be given as much love as the others 💌 this is for anna because she really liked it !

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[oopsiedaisydeer]

ʟᴇᴛ ɪᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ

…𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘣𝘰𝘺!𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦

phone sex, angst, loneliness, mental health struggles, sub!chris?, longing, vulnerability, intimacy, anonymous relationship

word count - 1.9k

The lecture hall hummed with the usual mid-morning buzz. She sat in her usual spot up the back, the dim lighting above her making the world feel like it was happening just a little too far out of reach. Her pen danced across the notebook as the professor spoke, but her thoughts kept wandering. She let her gaze wander too, getting distracted by a group a couple rows in front of her, talking amongst themselves, laughing. One guy in particular stood out, the messy brown hair, the posture and his laugh. It was almost familiar. The boy turned slightly, and she caught a glimpse of his face. Too many emotions hit her all at once as she recognised him.

Chris Sturniolo. 

She hadn’t expected to see him at university. He had only been a year ahead of her, part of a different crowd back in their small town. They weren’t exactly close back then, but she noticed him. Too much, probably. He was handsome, loved by all, a star athlete, and someone she had quietly admired from afar back. She remembered how often she would find herself stealing glances at him in the hallways, her heart fluttering whenever he passed by.

She almost told him once. That one moment, standing at the edge of the bleachers after the final game of his senior season, watching him laugh with his friends. She’d almost spoken up. Almost told him everything. How she felt. But then, she chickened out. The moment passed, and she convinced herself that it was better left unsaid.

And here he was, sitting just a few rows ahead in this university lecture hall, surrounded by friends, completely unaware of the secret she’d carried all those years. She couldn’t stop staring, even if she was doing everything she could to pretend she wasn’t.

She quickly looked down at her notebook, heart pounding in her chest. No way he remembers me, she thought. He probably doesn’t even know I exist.

Later that night, Chris sat in his dimly lit dorm room.

The weight of the day had settled over him like a heavy fog. The typical distractions weren’t helping. Parties? He wasn’t interested. Chasing some girl? Didn’t feel right. He hadn’t felt truly good in a while, not with anything, with anyone. The last few months at university had been lonely, despite being surrounded by people.

He didn’t really know how to be close to anyone anymore, so overwhelmed by the difference between suburban and city life. He found himself longing for stuff but lacking the conviction to make it happen. There were nights where his own hands weren’t enough. Porn lost its appeal months ago.

That’s when he stumbled across it. A hotline. Anonymous, safe, and just what he needed. He wasn’t looking for a relationship or something serious. He just wanted to feel close to someone, even if only for a few minutes. To have a connection without having to expose himself in the ways he wasn’t ready to.

He hesitated, but figured he didn’t have much to lose. With a few quick taps, he dialed the number.

“Hello, this is Daisy,” came the soft voice on the other end, smooth and soothing. Something about it made his pulse pick up.

Chris hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Uh… I don’t really know what I’m doing. I just… needed someone to talk to.”

“That’s okay,” Daisy’s voice was calm, welcoming. “I’m here to listen. Whatever you need.”

Chris swallowed, the easy familiarity of her tone loosening something inside him. “I don’t know… I just feel so... empty, you know? Like there’s something missing.”

There was a brief silence. Chris wasn’t sure if she was just being polite or if she actually understood. But then her voice came back, gentle yet firm.

“Loneliness is tough to carry. But you don’t have to do it alone, not tonight.”

Chris exhaled sharply. She was saying exactly what he needed to hear, and the calm in her voice made him feel like he could let his guard down a little. He felt the weight of his words as they left his mouth.

“Yeah... I don’t know. I just feel like I can’t really... be with anyone. Like I can’t get close. But I need it. I need to feel something.”

“You deserve to feel close to someone. It’s okay to want that, baby.”

The words, followed by the pet name, hit him harder than he expected. Something inside him cracked open, and before he knew it, he was saying things he hadn’t intended. 

“I just... I want to feel like I’m... wanted. Like someone’s here with me. Not just... in the usual way, but like I’m actually... seen. You know?”

Her voice was soft but firm. It was like she could sense the vulnerability behind his words, even though they were both hidden behind the veil of anonymity. 

“I see you. And I can make you feel seen, if you’ll let me.”

Something about that promise stirred something deep inside Chris. It wasn’t just the loneliness anymore; it was the pull of wanting her, wanting to connect in a way that felt both comforting and thrilling at the same time. It stirred something deep in him, and before he knew it, his body was reacting, an instinctual response he couldn’t control.

“Please.” he found himself whining, a bulge already forming. 

“Are you hard, baby?” Daisy’s voice was quieter now, almost teasing.

Chris let out a strained breath. “Mhm.”

“Good.” She let the word hang there, a subtle promise in her voice. “I want you to trace your pretty cock with your fingers. Just the outline of it, on top of your boxers. Lightly, softly. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah.” Chris murmured, following her instructions. His pulse quickened, and he hesitated for a moment before doing as she asked, the action feeling foreign yet somehow natural in the moment.

“Now, take it out.” Chris groans at Daisy’s words, the soft, teasing lilt to her voice. 

“Just like that,” Daisy’s voice continued, cool and soft. “Lightly, just enough to feel it. I want to hear from you.”

She noticed the way his breaths were picking up, and there was something different in her voice now. The usual professionalism slipped a little, the edge of something more... real, slipping through.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” she said, her words softer. “Say it. Let me take care of you.”

She tried to keep herself focused, tried to not to let the rush of unexpected arousal cloud her thoughts. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to feel this, not for a stranger, not over the phone, and especially not when it was just another job.

She could hear Chris’s breaths, sharp and uneven. He was close, she could tell by the way his words faltered.

“Are you still with me, baby?” Daisy asked softly, the pet name slipping out almost automatically.

Chris’s voice crackled back. “Yeah… just... god, it feels so good.”

Her pulse quickened. It was supposed to be just a call, just a transaction. But his words, the way his voice wavered with need, felt different. Too real. She couldn’t deny the heat creeping up her neck as her mind raced. She had never let herself get this affected before. But there was something about him that stirred her. Something about the rawness in his voice made her wonder what it would be like to have this kind of closeness, not for money, not for a role.

“Good boy,” she whispered again. “Now, keep going. Touch yourself for me. Just like that. I want to hear from you. Let me know how it feels.”

Chris let out a ragged breath, the sound of him following her direction ringing in Daisy’s ears. She pressed her lips together, willing herself to stay professional, to keep the distance that was usually so easy for her when other lonely men called.

But tonight, tonight was different. Her chest tightened with the strange, unfamiliar emotion twisting in her stomach. Maybe it was her loneliness, maybe it was the isolation of the job, or maybe it was just him. His voice, so lost in his own desire, so vulnerable in ways he didn’t realise. 

She bit her lip, suppressing a sigh that threatened to slip out. This was supposed to be about the money.

She had to remind herself of that.

“Tell me what you want,” she said, her voice dipping into something more commanding. It was easier to stay detached when she was in control, when the power was hers. But her pulse raced against her will. “Say it. Let me hear what you need.”

Chris’s breath hitched. “I. God, I just want to feel you. I want to...”

His words trailed off into a groan, and Daisy's breath faltered. She pushed herself to maintain control, to keep the rhythm of the moment. Her fingers tightened around the phone, but she felt the heat in her own body building, her hand edging closer to where she felt the need the most. Unexpected, unwelcome, but undeniable.

Her pulse quickened, but she tried to keep it in check. “You’re close, aren’t you? Let go for me, baby. Let it happen. You’ve earned it, sweet boy.”

Chris let out a groan, his hand moving faster as she encouraged him. He was almost there, and in that moment, it felt like everything in the world was narrowing down to just this. Her voice, his need, the warmth of the call.

When he finally reached his release, it wasn’t just the physical relief. There was something else, something deeper that he didn’t know he was craving. He could hear her breath, soft and steady, as she guided him through it.

Chris’s response came in a guttural groan, and the sound of his release sent a jolt of heat through Daisy’s chest. She instructed him to slow down, to catch his breath, her own chest tightening as she focused on keeping everything in check. She reminded herself that this was just her job, just another call.

But, as she released a breath of her own, something stirred inside her that shouldn’t have. Something warm and soft. She quickly shut it down. She wasn’t supposed to want this. She wasn’t supposed to want him. She had been called by dozens of men, heard dozens of voices, and she’d never felt this way.

“Good boy,” she murmured, not even realizing how tender her voice had become. “You did so well.”

There was a quiet pause as Chris caught his breath on the other end of the line. He didn’t know that Daisy, in some strange way, felt just as affected as he did. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, not knowing if he was thanking her for the physical release or for something else. But Daisy didn’t reply right away. There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.

When she spoke again, her voice was back to its professional calm. “Of course, baby. Take care of yourself tonight.”

But as he hung up, a strange ache settled in her chest. The kind that hadn’t been there before. She couldn’t help it. Maybe it was his voice. Maybe it was the vulnerability he had let slip. Or maybe it was just her own insecurities creeping in. 

As their conversation ended, Chris felt lighter, more peaceful than he had in months. He drifted off to sleep thinking of her, Daisy, the girl that had made him feel so good.

creds to rose @bernardsbendystraws for the dividers !!! <3

a/n: gahhhh i made this too long but whatever! hope u enjoy!

taglist: @applecidersturniolo @throatgoat4u @sturnslutz @desreads @courta13 @kier-with-a-k @bluestriips @sturns-mermaid @ishasturnz @sweetshuga @snoopychris comment to be added/removed from this au's taglist !!

till next time!

[scarletwinterxx]

magnets - choi seungcheol imagine 1/2

buckle up bcs this is going to be a long one, i tried i really did i tried my best writing as much angst as i can. i'm not the best in that genre but i think i like how it turned out... i tried my best to put into words the scenes I had in my head. i needed to make this in 2 parts since it won't let me post all at once😅 so yes THERE WILL BE A SECOND HALF

tbh out of all the stories i wrote here, this one has the most 'me' in it. sad if you realize why i say that but yea😅 in my mind, cheol is the type of man whose love isn't consuming, it just makes everything better, easier, a little less terrifying bcs no matter what you can count on him to be there with you. i guess that's what make me love this story even more. hope you do too!

for my other svt fics, check them here

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

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You’ve heard it all before. You're too picky. Your standards are unrealistic. Men aren’t that bad.

Lies. All of it.

Men are that bad. They lack common sense, can’t read between the lines, and somehow think saying "you’re not like other girls" is a compliment. You’ve dodged so many disastrous setups that your friends have given up entirely, dubbing you "The Man Hater." 

Until a certain someone crossed paths with you. 

It happens on a regular Friday night. Your group is at some bar Mingyu insisted on checking out, and you're barely listening to Jeonghan talk about his latest situationship when you see him.

Seungcheol walks in like he owns the place. Broad shoulders, sharp jawline, and a presence that makes women glance up instinctively. He doesn’t seem to notice. He’s in a plain black tee, jeans that fit just right, and a watch that looks like it costs more than your rent. The kicker? He doesn’t even try to look hot. He just is.

"Who is that?" you ask, cutting off Jeonghan mid-sentence.

Your friends freeze "Did you just…" Jeonghan starts.

"Who," you repeat, your voice dangerously close to sounding interested, "is that?"

Mingyu, still coughing, thumps his chest. "Choi Seungcheol," he wheezes. "Why?"

"He’s hot," you declare, because there’s no point in denying the undeniable.

"You hate men," Irene reminds you, like you’ve somehow forgotten

"I hate most men," you correct. "That one? I want him."

Jeonghan bursts into laughter. "This is the best night of my life."

You ignore them because Seungcheol is making his way to the bar, completely unaware of the chaos he’s caused. You watch, entranced, as he leans against the counter. When the bartender hands him a drink, he nods in thanks. Polite, effortless. Not once does he scan the crowd for attention like most men do. He knows he has it.

Mingyu, having finally recovered, shakes his head. "No way. Seungcheol turns down everyone."

"Not for long," you murmur, already formulating a plan.

Jihyo narrows her eyes. "Oh my God. You’re serious. You’re actually serious."

"I am."

Irene stares at you, then at Seungcheol. "I give you five minutes before he shuts you down."

"Three," Mingyu corrects.

"Ten," Jeonghan bets

"Have some faith," you scoff, already standing up. "Watch and learn, peasants."

You stride towards the bar, heart hammering, but determination stronger. It’s been years since you’ve been genuinely interested in someone. You’ll be damned if you let this moment pass.

Seungcheol notices you as you approach, and when your eyes meet, he tilts his head slightly curious but unreadable. Up close, he’s even better. You swallow.

Then, with all the confidence in the world, you slide onto the stool next to him before speaking

"So, do we skip the small talk, or do I have to pretend I don’t already want you?"

Seungcheol blinks. Then, he laughs. low, rich, interested and just like that, the game begins. He turns fully to face you, one elbow resting on the bar, drink held loosely in his hand. His gaze flickers over you—assessing, but not in that sleazy way men do when they think they have the upper hand. No, this is different. 

He’s curious.

"That’s a bold opener," he muses, taking a sip of his drink.

You smirk. "I don’t do weak ones."

He hums, seemingly unfazed, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrays him. "And what exactly do you already want from me?"

Your fingers drum against the bar as you lean in slightly, "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

For a second, he doesn’t say anything. He just watches you, then he sets his drink down with a quiet clink and exhales a small chuckle. "You’re not like the others."

"God, please tell me that’s not your usual line," you tease.

His grin widens. "No. Usually, I don’t even entertain conversations."

"Tragic," you say dryly. "You’ve been missing out."

His tongue runs along the inside of his cheek, and you swear you see a flicker of actual interest settle in his expression. Then, suddenly, he shifts gears.

"You came over here with a plan," he states, amusement laced in his voice. "Go ahead. Impress me."

Oh, he’s fun. You tilt your head, feigning thoughtfulness. "Alright. First, we exchange names not because I don’t already know yours, but because manners are important."

Seungcheol chuckles, but he plays along. "Choi Seungcheol."

You extend a hand. "Nice to meet you, Seungcheol" you say his name, telling him yours also

"I know who you are." That throws you off for exactly half a second, and you hate how much you like hearing him say your name. 

"Oh? And how exactly did you hear about me?"

"I have ears," he shrugs. "And friends who talk too much." he looks behind you. You glance back at your table, where your friends are openly staring.

"They bet against you, didn’t they?"

"Obviously." you scowl then turn to look at him again

"And yet, here we are."

"Here we are," you echo, matching his smirk.

He looks at you for a moment longer, as if weighing his next move. Then, he leans in slightly, voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"Alright. You’ve got my attention. Now what?"

You don’t get flustered easily. You’ve shut down men with nothing but a raised brow and a well-placed bless your heart more times than you can count. But there’s something about the way Seungcheol leans in, watching you with that amused little smirk, that makes your pulse trip over itself.

"That depends. Are you going to buy me a drink, or am I going to have to suffer through this conversation sober?"

His smirk turns into a full grin, slow and devastating. "So demanding."

"I don’t waste time," you quip

He chuckles, a deep, satisfied sound, before signaling to the bartender. "Get her whatever she wants," he tells them, then glances back at you. "And if you say something ridiculous, I’m judging you."

"Wow," you scoff, placing a hand over your heart. "You don’t even know my order, and you’re already prepared to be disappointed? You really are different."

Seungcheol snorts. "Just don’t tell me it’s some overly complicated drink with eight different ingredients."

You hum, making a show of considering his words before turning to the bartender. "A whiskey sour."

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Not bad."

"Did you think I was going to order an appletini?"

"Honestly? I wouldn’t put it past you."

You laugh, shaking your head as the bartender hands you your drink. You take a sip, enjoying the slight tang, then tilt the glass in his direction. "See? No judgment necessary."

"I’ll admit, I’m a little relieved," he teases, taking a sip of his own drink.

You narrow your eyes playfully. "So, is this your thing?"

"My thing?"

"Buying girls drinks, making them feel special, then walking away like a mysterious, unattainable dream?"

Seungcheol huffs out a quiet laugh. "Not really. Like I said, I usually don’t entertain conversations."

"But you’re entertaining this one."

He tilts his glass toward you in a silent toast. "I am."

You clink your glass against his, a slow smirk creeping onto your lips. "I must be special, then."

Seungcheol watches you over the rim of his glass, his gaze just a little darker now. "You must be."

You linger at the bar with Seungcheol for a few more moments, exchanging teasing remarks and sidelong glances, but eventually, you decide to leave while you're ahead.

"Well, this has been fun," you say, setting your now-empty glass on the counter.

Seungcheol tilts his head. "Leaving already?"

"What, you want me to stay?"

He huffs a quiet laugh. "I wouldn’t mind."

You pretend to consider it, tapping your chin thoughtfully. "Tempting… but I like to keep things interesting."

Before he can respond, you slide your arm across the bar toward him, palm up. His brows raise slightly, but he doesn’t hesitate. He picks up a pen left behind by the bartender and, with deliberate strokes, scrawls his number across your forearm.

When he finishes, he caps the pen, meeting your gaze with a knowing smirk. "Your move."

You glance at the numbers, then back at him. "We’ll see." Then, without another word, you turn on your heel and walk back to your table.

As expected, your friends are staring. The moment you reach the table, Jihyo blurts, "What happened?!"

You take your seat, completely unbothered, and casually extend your arm, showing off the ink on your skin. Silence.

Then

"WHAT THE—?!" Mingyu practically screeches, nearly knocking over his drink in the process. “Wait, wait. So, you—the man hater—just casually waltzed over there, flirted with Choi Seungcheol, and now you have his number?"

"Looks like it." You examine your arm with a smug smile.

Jihyo grips your wrist, eyes darting over the digits. "So? Are you texting him? Calling? When’s the wedding?"

You shrug, retracting your arm. "I’m not texting him."

Jihyo looks betrayed. "Why the hell not?!"

"Where’s the fun in that?" You take a slow sip of your drink. "Let’s see if he texts first."

Jeonghan looks at you before the evil smile shows on his face, “You didn’t give him your number, didn’t you?”

“Nope”

Jeonghan leans forward. "Oh, you’re evil."

You don’t text him that night. Or the next. His number, which you took time to save on your phone, remains stagnant on your contact list. 

You’re lounging on your couch, half-listening to a true crime documentary, when your phone buzzes with a call from an unknown number. You stare at it for a second, debating whether to answer, before sighing and picking up.

"Hello?"

Silence. Then—

"Was this your plan all along?"

You freeze. That voice is unmistakable. Leaning back against the cushions, you fight the smirk threatening to form. "Choi Seungcheol."

"You remember my name. Good to know," he deadpans.

You hum, inspecting your nails. "You sound a little… frustrated."

"I had to track down your friends just to get your number," he says, and you can hear the irritation laced with amusement. "Do you know how annoying that was?"

You bite back a laugh. "Who caved?"

"Mingyu. He held out for, like, ten seconds."

You laugh, imagining the exact moment Seungcheol probably cornered Mingyu, all intimidating and brooding, while your friend fumbled immediately.

"So," Seungcheol continues, "tell me, was this some elaborate game? Give me your number, wait for me to text, then just ghost me?"

"I didn’t ghost you. I just never texted in the first place."

"Exactly."

You grin, stretching out lazily. "Maybe I just wanted to see if you’d chase."

A pause. Then, in a tone far too smug for your liking "So you like being chased?"

Your stomach does a stupid little flip, but you refuse to let him know that. "I like seeing who puts in effort," you reply smoothly.

"And? Impressed yet?"

"You’re getting there," you tease.

Seungcheol chuckles, a low, satisfied sound. "Good. Then meet me for dinner."

You blink. "What?"

"Dinner," he repeats, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "You know, a meal? Where two people sit down, talk, and eat?"

"I know what dinner is," you snort. "I just wasn’t expecting you to be so forward."

"You made me hunt you down," he says. "You don’t get to act surprised." Okay. Fair.

"Alright, then," you say, biting your lip to contain your grin. "Pick me up at eight."

And just like that, Choi Seungcheol is taking you to dinner. And at exactly 7:59, your phone buzzes.

Seungcheol: I’m outside.

You glance at the time and snort. Of course, he’s punctual.

Grabbing your purse, you take one last look in the mirror before heading out. As soon as you step outside, you spot Seungcheol leaning casually against his car. A sleek, black beauty that looks just as effortlessly expensive as he does.

His eyes sweep over you as you approach, and he smirks. "You clean up nice."

You arch a brow. "I always look nice."

"Cocky."

Once he’s in the driver’s seat, he glances at you. "Comfortable?"

You hum, running a hand over the buttery leather seats. "Not bad. I guess your car is alright."

Seungcheol scoffs. "You guess? This car is a masterpiece."

You grin. "I’m sure it’s great at making up for other shortcomings."

He barks out a laugh, shaking his head as he pulls onto the road. "You just can’t help yourself, can you?"

"It’s a gift," you say sweetly.

He glances at you, amusement dancing in his eyes. "You really made me work for this date."

"You chased," you remind him.

"And you liked it."

You pretend to consider. "A little."

He huffs a quiet laugh. "Good. Because I don’t plan on stopping."

You meet his gaze, and for once, you don’t have a witty comeback. Seungcheol pulls up to a sleek high-rise, handing his keys off to the valet like it’s second nature. You step out, glancing up at the towering building, the city lights reflecting off the glass.

You give him a sideways look. “Fancy.”

He smirks. The elevator ride is smooth and silent, except for the way Seungcheol occasionally glances at you. When the doors open, you step into a dimly lit, impossibly exclusive restaurant. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the glittering skyline, the city sprawling below like something out of a movie.

A host greets you by name before leading you to a table near the window. You raise an eyebrow. “How did you even get a reservation here?”

Seungcheol just shrugs, sliding into his seat. “I have my ways.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He leans back, studying you with that same amused smirk. “You like it?”

It’s stunning, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction just yet. “It’s alright.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

The waiter arrives, and Seungcheol orders without even glancing at the menu. You squint at him. “You come here often?”

“Not really. Just know what’s good.”

“So, what, you bring all your dates here?”

Seungcheol sets down his glass, eyes locked onto yours. “No.”

You tilt your head. “No?”

He shakes his head. “You’re the first.”

Your stomach does something stupid and traitorous, but you keep your expression cool. “Guess I should feel special.”

His lips quirk up. “You should.”

And damn it, for once, you do. As the waiter leaves, Seungcheol leans forward, swirling the dark liquid in his glass before giving you an all-too-amused look.

“So, I heard something interesting from Mingyu.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s never a good sign.” 

“Apparently, you have a reputation.”

You take a slow sip of your drink. “Do I?”

Seungcheol smirks. “Something about being a ‘man hater,’ quote-unquote.”

You nearly choke. “Oh, for the love of—” You set your glass down with a little more force than necessary. “I am not a man hater.”

He rests his chin on his hand, clearly entertained. “Mingyu made it sound pretty serious.”

You roll your eyes. “Mingyu is dramatic. I just—” You gesture vaguely. “—don’t waste my time with idiots.”

“So, most men are idiots?”

You sigh, giving him a pointed look. “Look, I just have high standards. That doesn’t make me a man hater.” You pick up your drink, muttering, “Mingyu talks too much.”

Seungcheol just laughs, looking way too pleased with himself. You lean back in your chair, twirling the stem of your wine glass between your fingers, watching him with a knowing smirk.

"You know," you start casually, "I heard something about you too."

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

You nod. "Apparently, you’re the guy who turns down women without a second thought."

He hums, taking a sip of his drink before setting it down. "Mingyu, again?"

"Maybe."

He smirks. "He really needs a hobby."

"Don’t change the subject," you tease, tilting your head. "So, is it true?"

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he watches you for a moment, like he’s deciding how much to say. "Depends," he finally says.

"On what?"

"On what you think ‘true’ means."

You narrow your eyes. "That sounds like something a guy who’s absolutely guilty would say."

Seungcheol chuckles, shaking his head. "Look, I’m not some heartless bastard. I just don’t waste time on something I know won’t go anywhere."

You cross your arms. "And what exactly makes you so sure it won’t go anywhere?"

He shrugs, voice even. "You can tell when someone only wants you for the wrong reasons."

Something about the way he says it makes you pause. It’s not cocky. It’s just… matter-of-fact.

You watch him carefully. "So, what, they just like the idea of you?"

He meets your gaze, unreadable. "Something like that."

You hold his stare, and for a moment, the teasing dies down, replaced by something heavier. Something real. Then, because you refuse to let things get too serious too quickly, you click your tongue.

"Damn," you say, shaking your head. "And here I was thinking you were just playing hard to get."

Seungcheol laughs, the tension breaking. "And yet, you still showed up."

You grin. "Guess I like a challenge, too."

He lifts his glass toward you in a silent toast.

"Good," he murmurs, eyes dark with amusement. "I’d be disappointed if you didn’t."

The food was amazing, company even better. He’s funny without trying, you don’t think you laughed that much in a while. And a guy being the reason? A miracle truly. 

He’s driving you back home leaning back in the passenger seat, comfortably full from dinner, when his voice cuts through the quiet.

"So." His fingers drum lazily against the wheel. "Why didn’t you text me?"

You glance at him, feigning innocence. "Text you?"

He gives you a look. "You know. After that first night."

You smirk, tilting your head. "Ohhh, you mean when you wrote your number on my arm like some overconfident frat boy?"

Seungcheol scoffs, but his lips twitch. "I was being resourceful."

"Sure." You shrug. "Guess I just wasn’t in a rush."

He raises an eyebrow. "Weren’t interested?"

"I didn’t say that."

"Didn’t not say it either."

You chuckle. "Alright, fine. Maybe I just wanted to see how serious you were."

Seungcheol hums. "So, making me track down your friends and practically interrogate Mingyu was a test?"

You flash him a grin. "And you passed."

He glances at you, amusement glinting in his eyes. "I knew you were trouble."

"You knew," you agree, smirking. "And yet, here you are."

Seungcheol shakes his head, but there’s no hiding the way his lips curl up. "Yeah," he murmurs, like it’s more to himself than to you. "Here I am."

You don’t tell anyone about the dinner. Not because you’re trying to be secretive, but because there’s nothing to tell. At least, that’s what you tell yourself but the others notice something.

"You’re in a good mood," Jihyo says one afternoon, squinting at you suspiciously over her coffee.

You blink. "Am I not allowed to be?"

"You are," she says slowly. "It’s just unusual."

Mingyu chimes in from across the table. "Yeah, you haven’t made fun of me once today. It’s kinda weirding me out."

You roll your eyes. "You want me to insult you?"

"Lowkey, yeah."

Jeonghan, who’s been scrolling through his phone this whole time, suddenly looks up. "Wait. You are acting different."

Irene nods, narrowing her eyes. "Yeah. You’re… less murdery. "You know." She gestures vaguely. "Less I’ll kill a man if he looks at me the wrong way."

You groan. "You guys are so dramatic."

"Okay, so what happened?" Jihyo presses.

"Nothing."

Jeonghan smirks. "That means something." Four pairs of eyes immediately narrow at you.

"Who is it?" Jeonghan adds, grinning like a wolf. "Oh, wait—" His eyes gleam with mischief. "Who’s the poor bastard?"

You roll your eyes. "There is no bastard. Poor or otherwise."

"She’s deflecting," Jihyo announces.

Mingyu leans forward. "It’s Seungcheol, isn’t it?"

You don’t react. Not visibly but the millisecond of silence is enough. Jeonghan’s grin explodes.

"Ohhhh, no way." Mingyu screeches.

You groan, dropping your head into your hands. You should’ve known. You deny, deny, deny until they finally give up, though not without a lot of suspicious side-eyes and unnecessary winks from Jeonghan.

By the time they stop prying, you think you’re in the clear.

That is, until Friday night.

It’s just supposed to be a normal night out—drinks, chaos, and Mingyu probably embarrassing himself at some point. The usual.

But then you see him.

Seungcheol.

And he’s not alone. You clock him the moment you step into the bar, leaning against the counter with a drink in hand, looking ridiculously good in a black button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He’s mid-laugh, talking to someone. Looks like a close friend. 

You don’t react, keeping your expression neutral, but Jeonghan notices immediately.

"Why do you look like you just saw a ghost?" he asks, following your gaze.

And because the universe is cruel, that’s the exact moment Seungcheol glances over and meets your eyes. A slow, knowing smirk spreads across his lips.

Jeonghan watches it all happen. His eyes widen before he turns to you, grinning like the menace he is. "Oh. My. God."

Mingyu, of course, is oblivious. "Drinks first!" he announces, leading the group toward an open spot by the bar.

Irene and Jihyo follow easily, already deep in conversation, but you feel Jeonghan at your side. His eyes are glinting. You just know he’s about to be a problem.

"You know," he says casually, "for someone who ‘definitely did not go on a date with Seungcheol,’ you two sure looked like you have history."

You don’t even blink. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Jeonghan snickers. "Right. And I’m a law-abiding citizen." You ignore him, signaling the bartender for a drink.

Everything is fine or at least it was until Seungcheol and his friend start making their way over. You don’t react. But you know Jeonghan notices the way you straighten up, the way your fingers tap once against the bar before going still.

His friend gets there first, smiling easily at the group. "Hey," he greets. "Didn’t know you guys were coming out tonight."

Mingyu perks up. "Joshua Hong! What’s up?" He claps Joshua's shoulder, immediately pulling him into conversation.

And that’s when he speaks.

"Small world, huh?"

You refuse to turn your head too fast, refuse to let your body react. Instead, you sip your drink first, then glance to the side. Seungcheol is looking at you like he knows something..

You raise an eyebrow. "Not really. Bars exist."

Mingyu, bless him, is still too caught up in talking to Joshua to notice the undercurrent of whatever is happening here. Irene and Jihyo are watching, though. They’re pretending to be casual, but you can feel their curiosity.

Seungcheol doesn’t drop it. He leans slightly closer, just enough for his voice to drop between the two of you. "You avoiding me?"

"Why would I do that?"

He tilts his head, pretending to think. "Maybe because someone went on a date with me and then acted like it never happened."

Jeonghan is eating this up. He’s watching like it’s his favorite drama, sipping his drink with barely concealed glee.

You sip your drink again, unfazed. "Must not have been that memorable then."

Seungcheol laughs like, full-on laughs and somehow that’s worse than if he had been annoyed.

"Oh, this is fun," he murmurs, shaking his head.

"You need better hobbies," you reply dryly.

"You’re right. I should pick up dating mysterious, difficult women who don’t text back."

You glance at him. "So you’re saying I’m a challenge?"

He smirks. "I’m saying I like challenges."

Your lips curve, but you don’t let the smile take over. You turn back to your drink instead and just like that, the moment passes. Instead, he just slides into conversation with the rest of the group like nothing happened. Like he’s not already thinking about the next time he’ll get you alone.

The night goes on as if nothing happened. As if Seungcheol didn’t just throw you off balance with his ridiculous smirk and infuriatingly charming presence. But then, when Seungcheol and Joshua drift off to another part of the bar, Jihyo pounces.

"Okay, explain."

You feign ignorance, sipping your drink. "Explain what?"

Irene scoffs. "Don’t play dumb. You were literally just flirting with him."

You roll your eyes. "I was not."

"That was the most obvious non-flirting flirting I’ve ever seen," Jihyo insists. "And I’ve known Jeonghan for years."

Jeonghan smirks. "She’s right, you know."

Mingyu, now finally catching up, furrows his brows. "Wait. Are we talking about Seungcheol?"

"No, we’re talking about your ability to be dense," Irene says, exasperated

Jihyo leans in. "I thought you wanted him."

You groan, rubbing your temples. "I do."

She blinks. "Then what’s the problem?"

You sigh. "That’s the problem."

Mingyu looks confused. "Wait, I’m lost."

Irene pats his arm. "Sweetie, this is grown-up business." This makes Mingyu glare at him, jokingly pushing her sideways

Mingyu scowls. "I am grown!"

"You’re a puppy," Jeonghan corrects.

Meanwhile, Jihyo is still staring at you like you’ve lost your mind. "So you want him, but that’s the problem."

"Yes."

She stares harder. "You’re gonna have to give me more than that."

You huff, crossing your arms. "Look, it’s one thing to think a guy is hot. It’s another to actually want to do something about it. And it’s another thing entirely when that guy is Seungcheol."

Jeonghan hums. "Because he’s…?"

"Because he’s Seungcheol." You gesture vaguely. "Effortlessly hot. Stupidly charming. A literal menace who just gets whatever he wants without even trying."

Jihyo raises an eyebrow. "And that’s… bad?"

You exhale. "It’s bad because I don’t lose. And I will lose against him."

There’s a beat of silence. Then Jeonghan bursts out laughing.

"Oh, my God," he wheezes, clutching his stomach. "This is amazing."

Mingyu blinks. "I still don’t get it."

Irene sighs, shaking her head. "She’s afraid he’s gonna wreck her life."

Mingyu tilts his head. "That’s dramatic."

Jihyo just smirks. "So what’s your plan?"

You sigh. "I don’t have one." And that? That’s the real problem.

It happens when you least expect it. One second, you’re at the bar with Jihyo, fending off yet another round of questioning. The next Seungcheol is there.

"Can I borrow her for a second?" he asks smoothly, voice just low enough that only you can hear the real intent behind it.

Jihyo raises a brow, eyes flickering between the two of you. You can practically hear her thoughts. But before she can say anything, Seungcheol’s hand finds yours then he’s pulling you away.

You follow, weaving through the crowd until he tugs you into a small corner of the bar. A photobooth. You barely register it before he pulls the curtain shut behind you. The space is tiny. Cramped. You can feel the heat of him, too close, too intoxicating.

"You could’ve just asked to talk," you say, leaning against the side of the booth like you’re not at all affected.

Seungcheol smirks, eyes flickering down to your lips for just a second. "Where’s the fun in that?"

Your pulse jumps. "You like making things difficult, don’t you?"

"I could say the same about you."

You roll your eyes, but the way he’s looking at you—steady, knowing, amused as hell—makes it hard to breathe.

"So," he says, voice softer now, more serious, "why didn’t you text me?"

You exhale, meeting his gaze. "Because I knew you’d find a way to track me down anyway."

"You think you have me figured out?"

You tilt your head, letting the silence stretch before you answer. "I think you don’t like losing."

Seungcheol watches you for a beat. Then he laughs. It’s soft at first, then full and deep, shaking his shoulders as he shakes his head. "God," he mutters, "I should’ve found you sooner."

Your chest tightens. The photobooth timer starts blinking.

3…

His gaze dips—

2…

You don’t move away

1.

The camera clicks.So does something else between you.

The next day at work, you’re in a mood. You glare at your computer. You glare at your coffee. You glare at the innocent potted plant on your desk. And your friends notice.

Jeonghan doesn’t ask immediately. He waits until you’re both in line at the café, you’re scrolling through your phone, pretending you don’t notice him watching you.

"So," he says casually, "when are you seeing him again?"

You freeze. Your finger hovers over your screen. You don’t look at him, but you can feel his smirk. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Jeonghan hums. "Sure you don’t."

You take a deep breath. "Nothing happened."

"See, I know that’s a lie," he says, stepping forward as the line moves. "Because if nothing happened, you wouldn’t be acting like a walking existential crisis."

You scowl. "I am not—"

"—a walking existential crisis?" Jeonghan interrupts, raising a brow. "Oh, please. You’ve been glitching all morning."

You roll your eyes, finally looking at him. "You’re being dramatic."

"Am I?" He crosses his arms. "Because if I recall correctly, you’re the one who wanted him at first sight."

You click your tongue, shifting your weight. "And that’s the problem."

Jeonghan leans in slightly, intrigued. "Because?"

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. "Because I’m hot and cold about this, okay? One second, I want to see where this goes. The next, I’m ready to vanish into the void."

He blinks. "So you like him."

You hesitate. "I—"

Jeonghan’s smirk returns. "Oh, you so like him."

You glare. "I barely know him."

"But you want to," he points out.

You exhale, dragging a hand down your face. "That’s exactly the problem. I don’t get like this."

Jeonghan nods slowly, as if considering. "So what I’m hearing is… Seungcheol has you shook."

You groan, stepping forward as the line moves again. "I hate you."

"You love me."

"Debatable."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Look, you can keep overthinking this, or you can just let yourself have some fun." He tilts his head. "Unless you’re scared?"

You bristle. "I’m not scared."

His smile widens. "Maybe. Or maybe you’ve just met your match." You stare at him, but before you can argue, the barista calls your order.

Jeonghan winks. "Think about it."

"This," you say flatly, "is why I hate most men."

Jeonghan snickers. "Oh, so you admit you don’t hate all men?"

You glare at him over the rim of your cup. "Unfortunately, some of you have managed to slip through the cracks."

He hums thoughtfully. "And would you say Seungcheol is one of those ‘slip through the cracks’ cases?"

You almost choke on your drink. "Jeonghan," you say warningly.

"Just saying," he muses, blowing on his coffee

You scoff. "Oh, please."

But then you hesitate because, damn it, he has a point. You liked Seungcheol immediately. One look, and you wanted him. And that never happens. It’s annoying. It’s unnerving. And the worst part? Seungcheol knows it.

It’s been a long day. You step out of the building, already thinking about what to make for dinner when you see him.

Seungcheol leaning against his car like he’s posing for a magazine, arms crossed, watching you with an amused tilt of his head. You stop in your tracks.

He smirks.

"Busy?" he asks, pushing off the car as you approach.

You narrow your eyes. "How did you know I was here?"

“Mingyu” you mutter under your breath how you’re going to kill the 6 foot tall man tomorrow. 

Seungcheol chuckles. "Be nice. I was gonna find you eventually."

You glare. "That’s not the point."

He tilts his head. "Then what is?"

You open your mouth then close it. Because, honestly? You’re not sure. Why does he keep coming back? And why the hell do you feel kind of excited that he’s here?

Seungcheol watches you wrestle with your thoughts, then grins. "You gonna invite me up?"

"To my apartment?"

"Where else?"

You fold your arms. "That’s bold."

He steps closer, just enough that you catch the faintest whiff of his cologne. "I don’t like wasting time."

Your heart skips. You should tell him to leave. You should ignore how good he looks in that damn suit. Instead you sigh. "Fine. But if you track me down again because of Mingyu, I’m sending both of you to hell."

Seungcheol grins. "Deal."

The entire drive back to your place is infuriating.

Seungcheol is smiling, smirking, even, like he just won some kind of game. Meanwhile, you’re glaring out the window, arms crossed, regretting every decision that led to this moment. When he finally pulls up to your building, you let out a deep breath, like you’ve just survived something mentally exhausting.

"You always this grumpy?" Seungcheol teases as he steps out of the car.

You shoot him a look. "You always this persistent?"

He just grins. You roll your eyes, leading him up to your apartment. The moment you step inside, you toe off your shoes, toss your bag onto the couch, and grab your phone.

"I’m ordering food," you announce, already scrolling through your go-to delivery app. Seungcheol follows you in, looking around like he’s taking mental notes.

"Nice place," he comments, settling onto your couch like he’s been here before.

You glance at him. "You say that like you weren’t planning to judge it."

And before you can stop yourself, you ask, "Why are you doing this?"

Seungcheol looks at you, head tilting slightly. "Doing what?"

You sigh, turning to fully face him. "This." You motion between the two of you. "Showing up. Finding my number. Tracking me down." For a second, he just watches you. Like he’s figuring something out. Then, he leans back, resting an arm over the couch.

"So this is why they call you the man hater."

You blink. "Excuse me?"

“You’re suspicious of a guy just because he likes you?"

You stare at him, trying to come up with a solid counterargument, something to wipe that smug look off his face.

"Weren’t you the one who approached me first?" Seungcheol asks, raising a brow.

You freeze because technically, yes. You were. That night at the bar, it was you who walked up to him. You who spoke first. You who, despite your reputation of never being impressed by men, took one look at him and wanted him.

And Seungcheol, the same man who apparently turns down women without a second thought, didn’t turn you away. And now? He’s here. Sitting on your couch. Acting like this is just the natural order of things.

"You’re twisting my words," you argue, folding your arms.

"Am I?"

You narrow your eyes. "I approached you because I was curious."

He tilts his head. "And now?"

Every interaction with him has been throwing you off your game. You’re used to being in control but with Seungcheol, it’s like every move he makes is intentional, and he’s too good at getting under your skin.

"You’re annoying," you finally say.

He smirks. "And yet, here I am."

You let out a slow exhale, rolling your eyes. "I should’ve ignored your number that night."

Seungcheol watches your expression shift, and something about it amuses him. "You always like this?"

"Like what?"

He leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "Fighting yourself."

You stare at him. "I don’t—"

"You do," he interrupts, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "You’re hot and cold with me, and I think it’s because you don’t like how much you want this."

You hate that he’s right.

"You are so—"

"Annoying?" He grins. "You’ve said."

"Why are you even interested?"

“I like you."

Your heart skips but you refuse to let him see that. So instead, you exhale, shaking your head as you tap at your phone. "You’re ridiculous."

"And you like that," he counters. You pretend you don’t hear him as you place the order.

The food arrives, and you both settle in to eat. Seungcheol sits across from you, comfortably digging into his meal like he belongs here. Like he hasn’t been pushing your buttons all night.

You, on the other hand? You’re still glaring.

He looks up mid-bite, noticing your expression, and smirks. "You always eat like you’re plotting a murder?"

You stab at your food with a little more force than necessary. "Just considering my options."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "You should really work on your intimidation tactics."

You huff. "They work on everyone else."

"Ah," he nods, chewing thoughtfully. "So I’m special."

You pause. Damn it. "That’s not what I—"

He holds up a hand, cutting you off. "Don’t worry, I get it. I’m persistent, irritatingly charming, and you don’t know what to do with that."

You scowl. "I know exactly what to do with that."

He raises a brow. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You gesture to the door. "Kick you out." Seungcheol laughs. Full-bodied, genuine, like you’re the most entertaining thing he’s come across in a long time. You hate how nice it sounds.

"Okay," he says, still grinning. "I’ll leave—after we finish eating."

You squint. "You act like you’re doing me a favor."

He smirks. "Aren’t I?"

You refuse to dignify that with a response. Instead, you focus on your food, pointedly ignoring how Seungcheol watches you with that infuriatingly amused expression, like he already knows he’ll see you again.

After dinner you walk him to the door, arms crossed, your glare still very much in place. Seungcheol, in contrast, looks ridiculously satisfied, like he’s had the best night of his life just bothering you.

You stop at the door, unlocking it before turning to him with a deadpan expression.

"I changed my mind," you announce.

His brows lift slightly. "About what?"

"I don’t like you anymore."

Seungcheol grins. Like full-on, dimple-showing, teeth-flashing grin.

"That so?" he hums, stepping just a little closer, enough that you have to tilt your head to keep eye contact.

Your jaw tightens. "Yes."

He tilts his head slightly, watching you with the same entertained look he’s had all night.

"That’s a shame," he murmurs.

You cross your arms tighter. "Why?"

"Because," he leans in, voice dropping just enough to make your breath catch, "I still like you." He pulls back, opens the door himself, and steps out. 

"Goodnight," he says, like this is just routine now. Leaving you standing there, your heart beating entirely too fast, absolutely furious that he got the last word.

The next morning, you stomp out of your building and slide into Jeonghan’s car with more force than necessary.

Jeonghan barely glances at you before pulling out onto the street. "Good morning to you too."

You cross your arms, scowling at the window. "I hate him."

"Who?"

You don’t answer right away, mostly because admitting it feels like a loss. But then, under your breath "Seungcheol."

Jeonghan laughs. "You know, for someone who supposedly hates men, you’re really bad at resisting this one."

"I’m not—" You pause. "He’s just—annoying."

"And yet," Jeonghan drawls, "here you are, grumbling his name first thing in the morning."

You shoot him a glare. "Drive the damn car, Jeonghan."

He grins wider, turning up the radio. "Whatever you say, lovergirl."

You get to your desk, ready to start your day with the same level of annoyance you’ve carried since last night and then you see them. A bouquet. Right there. Sitting in the middle of your desk. Jeonghan, who’s still walking behind you, lets out a low whistle. "Oh, would you look at that?"

You drop your bag, snatch up the little card attached, and read it twice just to be sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you.

Try again. I think you still like me. —S.C.

Your eye twitches. Jeonghan, blatantly reading over your shoulder, bursts out laughing.

"Oh, this is amazing," he says, delighted. "I’ve never seen someone get under your skin this fast."

You slam the card down, glaring at the flowers like they’re the true enemy. "I hate him."

"You’ve mentioned." Jeonghan plucks one of the flowers from the bouquet, twirling it between his fingers. "So what are you gonna do?"

You grab the bouquet with way too much force, march over to Mingyu’s desk, and shove it onto his table. Mingyu, who was minding his own damn business, blinks in confusion. "Uh—?"

"They’re yours now," you say, turning away.

"But—"

"You’re welcome!" you call over your shoulder, marching back to your desk. Jeonghan watches the entire thing with an evil smirk.

"You really think that’s gonna stop him?" he muses.

You drop into your chair, arms crossed. "I don’t care."

Meanwhile, across town Seungcheol leans back in his chair, arms crossed, watching Joshua with a smirk.

"She gave them to Mingyu?"

Joshua, who had just finished relaying the entire story from Mingyu’s frantic texts, sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She didn’t even hesitate."

Seungcheol chuckles, clearly not deterred. "Figures."

Joshua gives him a look. "You sound way too happy about that."

"Because I am," Seungcheol says simply.

Joshua stares. "You just got rejected via floral delivery, and you’re smiling."

Seungcheol shrugs, completely unbothered. "She reacted."

Joshua raises a brow. "That’s your takeaway?"

"Of course," Seungcheol leans forward, tapping his fingers against his desk. "If she really didn’t care, she would’ve ignored them. But instead, she marched across the office, gave them to Mingyu, and made sure I’d hear about it."

Joshua squints. "That’s…a reach."

Seungcheol just grins. "Is it?"

Joshua sighs, already exhausted. "Okay, so what’s the plan now, lover boy?"

Seungcheol picks up his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he lands on the one he had personally gotten from Mingyu last week. Your phone buzzes on your desk, and you glance at it once. Then you freeze because there, bright as day, Seungcheol.

Your fingers twitch. You shouldn’t pick up. In fact, you should do the responsible thing and ignore him completely but then the call keeps ringing, like he knows you’re staring at it, like he’s waiting for you to break.

You almost ignore it..Almost. With an annoyed huff, you snatch up the phone and answer.

"What."

A low chuckle greets you from the other end. "That’s no way to greet your boyfriend."

Your entire body jerks. "Excuse me?"

"Ah," Seungcheol hums, clearly amused. "Too soon?"

"Way too soon," you deadpan. "And completely delusional."

"And yet, here you are, answering my call."

Your eye twitches. "Do you want something, or are you just here to waste my time?"

"Both," he admits easily.

You resist the urge to throw your phone. "Seungcheol."

"Fine, fine," he laughs. "Just wanted to check if my flowers got delivered."

You glare at nothing. "Oh, they did."

"And?"

"And they now belong to Mingyu." There’s a beat of silence then he’s laughing. And you hate it, you hate how good it sounded. 

“You’re so cute when you’re difficult."

You hang up immediately and then proceed to glare at your phone like it’s personally betrayed you. Across the room, Jeonghan watches your entire reaction unfold, smirk growing wider by the second.

"So," he drawls, "how’s your boyfriend?"

You launch a stress ball at his head.

Later that night, Jeonghan is sprawled out on your couch, one arm slung over his face as he lazily kicks at the air.

"You got any more of those fancy chips?" he asks.

You barely glance up from your phone. "Pantry."

"Ugh. Too far."

"You have legs."

He groans dramatically, but he doesn’t move. You roll your eyes and keep scrolling, ignoring him—until his voice turns serious.

"Alright," he says, sitting up. "All jokes aside—what’s going on?"

You pause, side-eyeing him. "What?"

Jeonghan leans forward, elbows on his knees, studying you in a way that makes you shift uncomfortably.

"You said it yourself that you wanted him," he says, voice softer now. "So why are you acting like this?"

Because you’ve been here before. Because the last time you really liked someone, you got your hopes up, and it all went to shit. Because you’ve learned the hard way that people say one thing and do another, that words mean nothing without action.

Jeonghan knows this. He’s been there through it all—through the flings, the almost-relationships, the guys who were great until they weren’t. He was there when you decided you were done trying, when you shrugged off love like it was an optional extra, not something you needed.

Now, he’s watching you like he’s seeing through you.

"You’re scared," he says simply.

You scoff. "I am not—"

"You are," he cuts in. "And I get it. But you can’t keep pushing people away just because they might disappoint you."

You bite your lip, looking away.

"Seungcheol isn’t them," Jeonghan continues. "And I don’t think he’s gonna give up just because you’re being difficult."

"...Maybe he should."

Jeonghan chuckles, but it’s not mocking. "Too bad for you, I don’t think he will."

You scoff, crossing your arms. "He will."

Jeonghan raises a brow, amused. "You sure about that?"

"Yes," you say firmly. "He’s rich, good-looking, and clearly used to getting what he wants. Guys like him don’t chase for long. The second I make it too much work, he’ll move on."

Jeonghan just smirks, shaking his head. "That’s cute. You think you’re hard to want."

You glare. "Don’t analyze me. I am not dealing with another guy who’s all interest at first and then disappears the moment things get real."

Jeonghan hums, watching you for a moment. Then, with a knowing glint in his eyes, he asks, "So if he doesn’t disappear?"

You blink.

"If he doesn’t give up," Jeonghan says, leaning closer. "If he keeps showing up, keeps proving you wrong—then what?"

You press your lips together, refusing to answer. Because you don’t know.

Jeonghan’s words replay in your head for the next couple of days. You try to brush them off, but they stick. if he doesn’t give up, then what?

But then, Seungcheol stops contacting you.No texts. No calls. No annoying flower deliveries. And in your mind, you’re like, See? I was right.

You told Jeonghan exactly how this would go. Guys like Seungcheol don’t chase for long. They get bored, they move on, they—

Knock, knock.

Your head snaps toward the door, heart inexplicably jumping. It’s late. You’re already in pajamas, wrapped in a blanket on your couch, halfway through a show you weren’t even paying attention to. The knocking comes again.

Slowly, you get up and pull open the door and there he is.

Seungcheol stands in front of you, looking annoyingly good despite the slight exhaustion in his eyes. He’s wearing a dark coat over a fitted sweater, and there’s an expensive-looking suitcase at his feet.

And in his hand a snow globe.

You blink. "What…?"

"Hey," he says, Just got back from a business trip."

You stare at him. "A business trip."

"Yeah." He lifts the snow globe slightly. "Paris.".

"You brought me a souvenir?"

Seungcheol smirks. "What, you think I’d go all the way to Paris and not bring you something?"

"I—" You pause, suddenly feeling very warm despite the cold draft from the open door. "I just—"

"You thought I gave up," he says simply.

Your stomach flips. You cross your arms, standing a little straighter. "Maybe."

For a second, neither of you say anything. Then, before your brain can catch up, you reach out slow, hesitant and take the snow globe from his hand.

"...Thanks," you mumble.

Seungcheol grins. "You’re welcome."

You step aside, wordlessly letting him in. Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate, walking past you like he belongs there. 

"Why do you always look like you want to fight me?" he asks, amused.

"I don’t," you say flatly.

"You do," he counters, dropping onto your couch like it’s his. "You’ve been glaring at me since the day we met."

You cross your arms. "Maybe it’s just my face."

"It’s cute."

You narrow your eyes. "Don’t start."

Seungcheol laughs, stretching out comfortably. "You gonna offer me a drink or just keep staring at me?"

You inhale sharply, fighting the urge to throw him out. Instead, you turn and march into the kitchen, grabbing two glasses of water. When you return, he’s still lounging on your couch, completely at home.

You set his glass down with a little too much force. "Here."

Seungcheol picks it up, giving you a slow, knowing look. "You’re really bad at this," he says.

"At what?"

"Letting yourself like me." You almost choke on your own water. And Seungcheol? He just smiles.

He takes a slow sip of his water, watching you over the rim of the glass like he’s studying you. Then, like he can read your mind, he says, "Before you start spiraling—I didn’t text because I was busy. Meetings from morning to night, different time zones, clients to entertain. I barely slept, let alone had time to talk."

You blink. "I didn’t ask," you say, defensive.

He smirks. "Then don’t overthink."

You open your mouth to argue because you were not overthinking, thank you very much—but he just keeps going.

"I was in Paris for four days. Mostly business, but I had a few hours to walk around. Thought about you when I saw that snow globe."

Your stomach flips against your will. You grip your glass tighter. "You—what?"

"I thought you’d like it," he says simply. "Or maybe you'd just glare at it. Either way, it reminded me of you."

You stare at him, lips parting slightly because what the hell is he even saying? Because he says it like it’s not a big deal. Like it’s normal to have you on his mind while he’s halfway across the world. So, naturally, you do what you do best—deflect.

"You just showed up at my place," you say, voice carefully flat. "What if I wasn’t home?"

Seungcheol grins. "Then I’d have waited."

"Like a stalker?"

"Like a guy who wants to see you."

Your brain short-circuits.You scramble for something anything to say, but he beats you to it.

"You really don’t get it, do you?"

You frown. "Get what?"

He leans forward, setting his glass down on the coffee table, and your whole body tenses when he holds your gaze. "I don’t do things halfway," he says. "I wanted you from the start. That hasn’t changed."

And suddenly, you’re overthinking again. You fold your arms across your chest, keeping your expression carefully neutral. "You're just saying that because you like the chase."

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. "And you're saying that because you want me to think you're still a man hater."

"Excuse me?" you say, narrowing your eyes.

He shrugs, completely unfazed. "You keep acting like you don’t care, like you’re waiting for me to mess up so you can say ‘See? I told you so.’ But you’re just trying to protect yourself."

He’s too damn perceptive. Too calm, too confident in the way he calls you out.

"You don’t know what you’re talking about," you mutter, looking away.

Seungcheol scoffs. "I do, actually."

He leans forward again, resting his elbows on his knees. "You liked me the second you saw me," he says, voice lower now, smoother. "And that scared the hell out of you."

Your breath catches because he’s right. You hate that he’s right. And the worst part? He sees it. You don’t answer. That's when Seungcheol does something you don’t expect. He stands up. And just like that, the whole atmosphere shifts. The teasing glint in his eyes is gone, replaced with something steadier. Something serious.

"If you don’t want me here, say the word and I’ll leave."

You swallow hard. Your fingers tighten around the edge of your sweater. Because this is it. The out you’ve been waiting for. The chance to end this before you get in too deep.

Your voice is quieter than you intend when you say, "If I do, will you leave?"

Seungcheol watches you, his gaze unwavering. "Yes." You know he’s telling the truth. He’s not the kind of guy to stick around where he isn’t wanted.

"You won’t fight for it?" you ask, hating how vulnerable the words sound.

A small, knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "I already am."

Your breath catches because damn him. Damn him for saying things like that. Damn him for not pushing, not forcing, just waiting. 

So instead, you exhale, looking away. "Sit down, you’re making me nervous."

Seungcheol smiles and just like that, the tension cracks.

"Yes, ma’am," he teases, sinking back onto the couch like he owns the place.

You roll your eyes, but the corner of your lips betrays you—a slight, reluctant twitch. He sees it, of course. And you don’t miss the satisfied look on his face when he does.

A few days later, Mingyu ruins everything.

“We should go out for drinks,” he says, like it’s just a casual suggestion and not a trap. And like idiots, you all agree. You don’t think anything of it until "By the way," Mingyu adds, far too casually, "I invited Seungcheol."

You freeze.

Mingyu grins, oblivious to the murderous intent in your eyes. "You don’t mind, right?"

Jeonghan snickers. Irene and Jihyo exchange looks.

"Why would she mind?" Irene asks, ever the instigator.

"You’re all insufferable," you mutter, grabbing your drink and pretending you’re unaffected.

You’re going to ignore him. You’re going to sit with your friends, drink, and not think about him. It’s a solid plan.

Then he walks in.

And suddenly, your plan evaporates.

Seungcheol is unfair. Black button-up, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, looking effortlessly good in the worst possible way. He steps into the bar with Joshua beside him, scanning the room and then his eyes land on you.

You should play it cool. Pretend to be mad at him. Hold onto your last shred of self-respect but the moment you see him, you walk straight up to him, ignoring the way your friends watch with poorly concealed amusement.

Seungcheol’s lips twitch, like he was expecting this. "Hi."

You scowl. "I hate you."

He grins. "You said that last time. Didn’t sound very convincing then either."

You open your mouth to argue—but you don’t. Because damn it, you don’t hate him at all. So you stare at him, arms crossed, and say, “What, you’re too busy now?”

His smirk deepens. “Didn’t know you’d miss me so much.”

You scoff. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you implied it.”

Your eyes narrow. “You’re deflecting.”

He shrugs, completely unbothered. “I’ve been busy.”

“Oh, so you admit it?”

Seungcheol tilts his head, amused. “Didn’t I text you?”

Your lips press together. Okay, fair point. He did text. A few times.

A "How was your day?"A "Don’t overthink too much." 

Still, you lift your chin. “Texts aren’t the same.”

His brow arches. “So you’re saying you wanted to see me?”

 “That is absolutely not what I said.”

Seungcheol just laughs. “But it’s what you meant.”

“Oh my god, I hate you.”

His grin is downright infuriating. “You keep saying that, but I don’t think you mean it.”

You spin on your heel. “I’m leaving.”

Seungcheol just laughs, completely unbothered, like he already knows you don’t mean it. He slides into the seat beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

“I was busy because of work,” he murmurs, voice smooth, almost apologetic—but not quite. “Wanted to come see you, but I figured you’d be tired after work, too.”

Your eyes narrow. “That’s your excuse?”

He tilts his head, smirking. “It’s the truth.”

You glare harder, hoping it’ll somehow make him squirm. It doesn’t. He just watches you, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s fighting back a laugh.

“So considerate of you,” you say dryly.

He hums. “I try.” Seungcheol, of course, takes that as his cue to get comfortable. He leans back, stretching his arm along the back of the booth—not quite touching you, but close enough.

“You’re still mad,” he observes, sounding entirely too entertained.

“No,” you deadpan. “I’m thrilled.”

Seungcheol laughs under his breath. “You’re cute when you sulk.”

Your head snaps toward him, eyes burning with fresh irritation. “I am not sulking.”

He just grins. “Whatever you say.”

You step out onto the balcony, the night air cool against your skin as you take a deep breath. You just need a moment, one single moment to yourself. Of course, that’s impossible when Seungcheol is involved.

The door clicks shut behind you, and you don’t even have to turn around to know it’s him. You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Don’t mind me. I’ll sulk on my own.”

Seungcheol hums as he leans against the railing beside you. “Nah, can’t let that happen.”

You throw him a glare. “And why not?”

He shrugs, watching the city lights with an infuriatingly calm expression. “I’d feel bad.”

You scoff. “Oh, now you feel bad?”

“I’ve always felt bad.”

“You don’t look like you do.”

He tilts his head toward you, smiling slightly. “Alright, what do you want, then?”

You exhale, glancing away. The truth sits heavy on your tongue, but you don’t say it. You’re still you, after all. Instead, you mutter, “For you to stop being annoying.”

A breeze drifts between you, carrying the sounds of laughter from inside. For a second, neither of you speak. Then Seungcheol nudges your arm lightly. “You’re really not gonna admit you missed me, huh?”

You don’t say anything.

His smirk softens into something else. Something dangerous. “I can wait.” He exhales, watching you carefully. The smirk fades, replaced by something quieter. something real.

Then he says it.

“I missed you.”

The words slip out so casually, so effortlessly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Your fingers tighten around the railing. Your brain stalls. Your heart does this stupid little flip in your chest. You finally turn to face him, none of the usual teasing or frustration in your expression is just seriousness.

“If it’s going to be like this,” you say, voice steady, “you disappear for days, then coming back like nothing happened then it’s not going to work.”

Seungcheol’s smirk fades completely. He studies you, really looks at you, and you can tell he understands that you’re not just saying this to pick a fight.

He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?” You cross your arms. “You come and then go, then you just show up out of nowhere. Do you expect me to just—” You shake your head. “I don’t play games, Seungcheol.”

“I know,” he says immediately. “I know you don’t.”

You sigh. “Then what are we doing?”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then, carefully, “I didn’t think you’d want me to check in like that.”

You blink. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He hesitates. “Because you act like you don’t care half the time.” That stings. Not because he’s wrong, but because he’s right.

You inhale sharply. “That’s just how I am.”

“I know,” he says again, softer this time. “But if I’m going to try with you, I don’t want to be another person you expect to leave.”

Seungcheol holds your gaze, unwavering. “So tell me what you want. What you really want.”

For the first time since this started, you don’t have a comeback. You suddenly feel the urge to leave.

Seungcheol’s words sit heavy in your chest—you act like you don’t care half the time. It stung more than you wanted to admit, and now the whole night feels ruined.

“I’m heading out,” you say abruptly, turning on your heel.

You return inside, Seungcheol following behind you. Jeonghan, ever the observant one, catches on immediately. “Let’s go home yea?” he says, grabbing his coat. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t press. Just sticks by your side, because he knows you.

Mingyu frowns. “Already? But we just—”

“Let her go,” Seungcheol says. His voice is unreadable. You don’t look back. Jeonghan walks you out, calls a ride, and when you’re finally inside the car, he leans back with a sigh.

“You gonna tell me what happened?”

You stare out the window. “No.”

He hums, not pushing further. Instead, when you get home, he stays. Puts on a random movie, hands you a blanket, and lets you sit in silence.

Because Jeonghan knows you’ll talk when you’re ready. He doesn’t look at you right away. He stays focused on the movie, lthen he hears it.

A sniffle.

It’s quiet, barely there, but Jeonghan notices everything.

He doesn’t immediately react, doesn’t turn his head or ask if you’re okay, because he knows you. Knows that if he does, you’ll shut down completely.

“I think I’m screwing it up.”

Jeonghan doesn’t even blink. “With Seungcheol?”

You nod.

“Yeah,” he says, blowing on his own tea. “I figured.”

You furrow your brows. “How?”

He snorts. “Because you’re you.” You glare at him again, but he just drives. Eyes still on the road

“I’m serious,”

“So am I,” he says easily. “You’re panicking because this is probably the first time in a long time that you actually like someone. And instead of dealing with it like a normal person, you’re, well—”

“Ruining it?”

Jeonghan shrugs. “Self-sabotaging. But close enough.”

“Great.”

Jeonghan watches you for a moment. Then, softer this time “What did he say to make you leave?”

You hesitate. Then, voice barely above a whisper “That I act like I don’t care.”

“Well, he’s not wrong.”

You snap your head toward him, eyes wide. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

You scowl, ready to argue, but then the truth of it hits you.

And maybe that’s why it hurt so much. Because Seungcheol wasn’t wrong. Because you do act like you don’t care, even when you do. Because this whole time, you’ve been pushing and pulling, running hot and cold, and yet

Yet, he’s still here. Still choosing you. The realization makes your chest feel uncomfortably tight.

So you do what you always do when it gets too much. You don’t reach out.

Not the next day. Not the day after that. You tell yourself it’s for the best. That it’s easier this way. That Seungcheol will eventually get the hint and move on.

But then why do you feel like absolute shit?

You go through the motions—work, home, repeat—but there’s this persistent weight in your chest that refuses to go away.

It’s easy to avoid Seungcheol, at least. He works across town, and it’s not like you run in the same circles outside of Mingyu dragging him along. Still. You hate how aware you are of his absence. It’s ridiculous, really. You’ve only known him for a few months, but somehow, he’s already made himself at home in your thoughts.

You wonder if he’s given up on you yet. If he’s decided you’re not worth the effort. The thought makes you feel worse.

You almost walk right past him.

Almost.

“Hey.”

Your steps falter. You take a slow breath before turning to him. He’s standing by the entrance of your building, hands in his pockets, looking at you like he’s been waiting.

You scoff. “Oh. Now you know me?”

Seungcheol exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Don’t do that.”

You don’t even know what exactly you’re doing, but you’re already annoyed. “Do what?”

He gives you a flat look. “Push me away.”

You cross your arms. “Maybe you should take the hint, then.”

Seungcheol steps forward. “You don’t want that.”

You step back. “I don’t?”

“You don’t.” You hate that he’s right. That he can see it. That it’s written all over your face no matter how hard you try to deny it and it frustrates you. More than it should.

“Look, Seungcheol,” you sigh, voice heavy with exhaustion. “You can’t just disappear for days and then show up like—”

“Like what?” he interrupts. “Like I actually give a damn about you?” You flinch. It’s not even what he said. It’s how he said it. The sincerity in his voice. The quiet frustration.

You look away. “I didn’t ask you to.”

He laughs under his breath. “Yeah. That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

You hate the way he’s looking at you. Like he knows. Like he’s waiting for you to stop fighting him. You shake your head. “You should go.”

But Seungcheol doesn’t move. Instead, he tilts his head, studying you.  “Do you want me to?”

The answer is no but you don’t say it. You can’t stand the way he looks at you, like he’s already figured you out. Like he knows every excuse, every defense mechanism, every wall you put up before you even have the chance to throw them at him.

So you do what you do best. You push.

"Let’s just go back to thinking I don’t care." The words taste bitter, but you swallow them down, turning on your heel before he can say anything else.

You walk away.

One step.

Two.

Three.

You expect him to stop you. To grab your wrist. To call your name again. To say something but he doesn’t.

The air is heavy with everything unsaid, with everything you’re choosing to leave behind. And yet the farther you get, the harder it is to breathe. Your own words echo in your head, louder and louder, until you almost want to take them back.

Almost.

But you don’t.

Because that would mean admitting that he’s right. That you don’t actually want him to leave. That you’ve just been pushing him away because it’s easier than facing what’s really scaring you.

Because if you admit that you care—really, really care—then that means he has the power to hurt you.

And you’re not sure if you can survive that again.

And Seungcheol?

He lets you go.

The next day Jeonghan doesn’t even need to say anything. The moment he sees you step out of your apartment building, he knows. Your eyes are puffy, your hair is a mess, and you look like you barely got any sleep. Like hell, basically.

"So, rough night?" he asks, starting the car. You grunt in response, which tells him enough.

"You wanna talk about it, or should I just let you wallow in silence until you eventually explode?"

"Silence."

"Got it."

The drive is quiet, but Jeonghan sneaks glances at you every now and then. He’s been with you long enough to recognize when you’re doing it again. The overthinking. The self-sabotaging. The pushing away before you can get hurt.

He knows you want Seungcheol. He knows you care. And he knows that you’re terrified of letting yourself have something good.

So when he finally pulls into the parking lot and parks the car, he doesn’t unlock the doors right away. Instead, he turns to you, voice softer this time.

"You look miserable."

"Wow, thanks."

"I mean it. You look like you barely slept. You’re doing that thing where you overthink yourself into a corner and decide for yourself that you’re better off alone before anyone can prove you wrong."

You hate how accurate that is. "I don’t wanna talk about it, Hannie."

"Fine." He unlocks the doors. "But at some point, you’re gonna have to."

You sigh and grab your bag, stepping out of the car. But as you walk toward the building, Jeonghan calls after you.

"Just answer me one thing—if he calls, are you gonna pick up?"

You pause. The fact that you even hesitate tells him everything. Jeonghan watches you, waiting. Maybe hoping. But when you finally speak, your voice is so quiet.

“No.”

It’s not stubborn. It’s not defensive. It’s not even angry. It’s just… defeated. Like every last bit of fight has already drained out of you.

And that is what makes Jeonghan shut up. 

So, even though it kills him to see you like this, he sighs and just says, “Alright. Dropped.”

But Jeonghan doesn’t move right away. He just sits there in the driver’s seat, watching you disappear through the doors. And for the first time in a long time, he wonders if this time—with Seungcheol—maybe you’re making a mistake.

Jeonghan, Jihyo, Mingyu, and Irene are already a few drinks in when Mingyu suddenly stiffens, his eyes narrowing toward the entrance of the bar.

“Oh, shit.”

Jihyo follows his gaze and lets out a low whistle. “Well, well, well. Look who it is.”

Jeonghan doesn’t even need to look. He already knows. Joshua Hong walks in first, smiling as he exchanges greetings with someone at the bar.

And right behind him? Choi Seungcheol.

It’s been 2 weeks and Seungcheol looks… the same. Maybe a little tired, but still him. The group watches as he follows Joshua toward a table, not even glancing their way.

“Are we going to talk to them?” Irene asks, swirling her drink.

“Should we?” Mingyu hesitates.

Jeonghan sighs, rubbing his temples. He’s been waiting for something like this to happen. Because of course it would. The universe wouldn’t let things be that easy.

Jeonghan exhales, slow and measured, before tossing back the rest of his drink.

“I’ll go.”

Jihyo raises an eyebrow. “You sure?”

Jeonghan shrugs as he pushes back his chair. “Someone has to.”

Mingyu shifts in his seat. “Want me to—”

“No,” Jeonghan cuts him off, shaking his head. “If it’s just me, he won’t feel cornered.”

They don’t argue. They know Jeonghan well enough to trust him with this. So, with one last glance at the others, Jeonghan straightens his shirt and makes his way across the bar.

“Joshua.”

Joshua turns first, eyebrows lifting in surprise before his lips pull into a smile. “Jeonghan! What a coincidence.”

Seungcheol looks up then, mid-sip of his drink, and his expression flickers—just for a second—before smoothing out. Jeonghan pulls out a chair and sits without asking.

Joshua leans forward, propping his chin on his hand. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you tonight. The others here too?”

Jeonghan ignores the question and turns to Seungcheol instead. “You doing alright?”

Seungcheol stares at him, unreadable. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Jeonghan hums, tapping his fingers against the table. “Dunno. Just seems like you haven’t been around much lately.”

Joshua looks between them, lips twitching, but he wisely keeps quiet.

Seungcheol finally exhales, setting his drink down. “Is this about—”

“Of course it’s about her.” Jeonghan doesn’t even let him finish. “You think we wouldn’t notice?”

Seungcheol presses his lips into a thin line.

Jeonghan tilts his head. “She’s been avoiding everything that even remotely reminds her of you. And she’s stubborn as hell, but I know her. She’s not okay.”

Seungcheol’s grip tightens on his glass.

Joshua sighs, leaning back in his chair. “This is why I told you to just talk to her already.”

Seungcheol runs a hand down his face, clearly frustrated. “And say what?”

Jeonghan narrows his eyes. “Say you’re sorry. Say you care. Say literally anything, because she’s convinced herself you don’t.”

Seungcheol exhales sharply. “That’s not—” He stops himself, shaking his head. “She told me to leave.”

“She tells everyone to leave,” Jeonghan deadpans. “And she’s always surprised when they actually do.”

Seungcheol goes quiet. Jeonghan leans forward, voice steady but firm. “If you don’t care, then stay away. But if you do? Do something. Because right now, all you’re doing is proving her right.”

Seungcheol stares down at his drink. Jeonghan watches him, waiting.

And then, after a long moment Seungcheol stands.

Joshua blinks. “Oh? We’re going now?” Seungcheol ignores him, pulling his wallet out and throwing some cash on the table. Then, finally, he turns to Jeonghan.

“Where is she?”

Jeonghan tried calling again. Straight to voicemail.

He frowned. “She’s not answering.”

Seungcheol’s jaw clenched. “Is she home?”

“I don’t know,” Jeonghan muttered, already pulling up your shared location—but of course, it was off.

Joshua exhaled through his nose. “Maybe she’s asleep?”

Jeonghan shook his head. “She always leaves her phone on, even if she’s mad. If she’s not answering, it means she either doesn’t want to be found or—” He stops himself, lips pressing into a thin line. Seungcheol didn’t need him to finish the sentence. His hands curled into fists.

“Where would she go?” he asked, voice tight.

Jeonghan exchanged a look with Mingyu, who had come over after noticing their conversation.

Mingyu sighed. “There’s a place. She used to go there when she needed to clear her head.”

Seungcheol didn’t waste time asking more. “Where?”

Mingyu hesitated, just for a second. Then, seeing the way Seungcheol was barely holding himself together, he pulled out his phone and sent the location.

“Don’t mess this up,” Mingyu muttered.

Seungcheol was already heading for the door. He wasn’t sure what he expected when he got there, but an old bookstore tucked into a quiet street wasn’t it. The lights inside were dim and warm, casting a soft glow through the large windows. He pushed the door open, the bell above jingling softly. 

An old woman, sitting behind the counter, looked up. She peered at him through her glasses, eyes sharp despite her gentle smile.

“You must be the one,” she said simply.

Seungcheol blinked. “Excuse me?”

The old woman hummed, nodding toward the back. “She’s here. Been here all day.”

He followed her gaze and, sure enough, there you were—curled up in one of the armchairs near the back, a book resting on your lap, though you weren’t reading it. Instead, you were staring out the window, lost in thought.

You felt his presence before you saw him. Maybe it was the way the air shifted, or maybe you had been waiting for him all along, but when he stopped in front of you, you weren’t surprised.

“You’re a hard person to find,” he said quietly.

You closed the book in your lap, fingers tracing the edges of the cover. “Didn’t realize I was supposed to be found.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell anyone where you were?”

You shrugged. “Didn’t feel like talking.”

Seungcheol crouched down so he was eye level with you. “Are you okay?”

You looked at him then, really looked at him. His eyes were searching, his face unreadable. And for some reason, that made something in your chest tighten.

“I don’t know,” you admitted.

He exhaled softly. “Can I sit?”

You didn’t answer, but you moved your legs so there was space on the other armchair beside you. He took the silent invitation, settling in.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The quiet hum of the bookstore surrounded you.

Finally, Seungcheol broke the silence. “Why did you run?”

You frowned. “I didn’t run.”

He gave you a look. “You disappeared. No one could reach you. That’s running.”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the chair. “I just needed time.”

“To do what?”

“To think,” you muttered.

Seungcheol tilted his head, watching you closely. “And?”

You hesitated, fingers tightening around the book. “And I don’t know what to do with you.”

He let out a small chuckle. “I get that a lot.”

“I’m serious.”

His expression softened. “So am I.”

You sighed, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you. “I don’t know how to do this, Seungcheol. I don’t know how to trust that this won’t end up like before.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, he said, “I’m not whoever hurt you.”

You swallowed. “I know that.”

“Do you?” His voice was gentle, but firm. “Because it seems like you’re punishing me for something I didn’t do.”

Your chest ached. “It’s not that simple.”

“I know,” he said. “But I need you to at least give me a chance.” You stared at him, searching for any hint of dishonesty. But all you found was sincerity.

The lump in your throat grew. “And if I can’t?”

“Then I’ll wait.”

You closed your eyes, exhaling shakily. “You make it sound so easy.”

He smiled, though there was something sad in it. “It’s not. But I think you’re worth it.”

Your heart stumbled over itself. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t know what to say.

The old lady approached with slow, deliberate steps, her sharp gaze flicking between you and Seungcheol. She had seen you come in and out of this bookstore too many times, always with a heavy heart.

“So,” she said, arms crossing over her chest. “Is this the boy that’s been making you cry?”

You inhaled deeply, forcing a small smile as you shook your head. “All of them do.”

She clicked her tongue, giving Seungcheol a pointed look before patting your shoulder. “Men,” she muttered before walking off, leaving the two of you in tense silence. Seungcheol didn’t speak for a long moment. You knew he was looking at you, but you refused to meet his eyes.

Then, finally, in a quiet voice, he asked, “Did I really make you cry?”

You swallowed, keeping your gaze on the book in your lap. “Why do you care?”

His jaw tensed. “Because I didn’t want to.”

A bitter chuckle slipped out. “That’s funny,” you said, glancing at him now. “Because I remember you saying that I don’t care.”

Seungcheol exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I was angry.”

You nodded slowly, lips pressing together. “So what do you want from me?”

His brows furrowed. “What?”

You turned fully toward him now, frustration bubbling up again. “What do you want, Seungcheol? You say you’ll wait, but for what? You keep coming back even when I push you away. What are you waiting for?”

He stared at you, something flickering behind his eyes. “You.”

You let out a hollow laugh. “You don’t even know me.”

“Yes, I do,” he shot back. “I know you act like you don’t care because you’re afraid. I know you run before anyone gets the chance to hurt you. And I know you like me.”

Your breath hitched.

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping lower. “That’s why you’re trying so hard to convince yourself that I’ll leave.”

You clenched your jaw. “You will.”

Seungcheol exhaled, shaking his head. “I won’t.”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but before you could, another voice interrupted.

“There you are.” You both turned to see Jeonghan standing by the entrance of the bookstore, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face. “I was looking for you.”

Jeonghan’s gaze softened as he looked at you. “Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s go.”

You hesitated, glancing at Seungcheol, whose jaw was now clenched.

Jeonghan sighed, looking between the two of you. “You need space,” he said simply. Then, to Seungcheol, he added, “Give it to her.” Seungcheol didn’t respond immediately. His gaze stayed locked on you, searching, waiting but you didn’t say anything.

Finally, he exhaled and stood. “I’ll wait.”

You hated that those words made your chest tighten. Without another glance, you followed Jeonghan out of the bookstore, leaving Seungcheol behind.

The moment you stepped out of the bookstore, Jeonghan let out a heavy sigh.

“Don’t,” you muttered, already knowing what was coming.

“I didn’t say anything yet,” he shot back, but the look he gave you was enough.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Oh, don’t thank me,” he said, crossing his arms. “Because now I am going to lecture you.”

You groaned. “Jeonghan—”

“No, listen to me.” His tone was sharper than usual, firm in a way that made you stop walking. “You keep doing this thing where you push people away the second they get too close. And I get it, I do. You don’t want to get hurt. But you are the one hurting yourself.”

Your breath caught, but you said nothing.

Jeonghan huffed. “You like him,” he stated, like it was a fact. “And I know you like him because you’re acting like this.”

You scoffed. “That makes no sense.”

He gave you a pointed look. “It does when it’s you.”

You exhaled slowly, looking away. “He’ll leave.”

“And what if he doesn’t?” Jeonghan challenged. “Are you really going to throw this away just because you think he might leave?”

You pressed your lips together. “You don’t understand.”

Jeonghan let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, I do. Because I’ve watched you do this over and over again. And I didn’t say anything before because, honestly? Most of those guys weren’t worth it.”

You frowned. “And you think he is?”

Jeonghan tilted his head. “Don’t you? Look, if you really don’t want him, then fine. Walk away. But if you do want him—even just a little—then stop making it so hard for yourself.”

You swallowed, your throat suddenly tight.

Jeonghan softened, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Just think about it, alright?”

You didn’t respond. You weren’t sure if you could so you just nodded, and Jeonghan let it go. For now.

Come morning the next day. Seungcheol sat across from Jeonghan, arms crossed as he studied him. He had been skeptical from the start—why Jeonghan always knew exactly what to say to you, why you let him in when you pushed everyone else away.

“You know a lot about her,” Seungcheol said, voice laced with suspicion. “More than just a friend would.”

Jeonghan smirked, stirring his coffee lazily. “That’s because we’re not just friends.”

Seungcheol’s grip on his cup tightened slightly. He wasn’t sure why that statement irritated him so much, but it did. “Then what are you?”

Jeonghan glanced up at him, watching his reaction carefully before finally saying it.

“She’s my stepsister.”

“What?”

Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, sighing like this conversation was long overdue. “Her dad left when she was a kid. It was ugly—messed her up. My dad married her mom when we were in our teens, and suddenly, we were family.”

It made sense now. Why you and Jeonghan were inseparable, why he always seemed to understand you in a way no one else did.

“She doesn’t talk about it,” Jeonghan continued, voice quieter now. “Not to anyone. She pretends it doesn’t affect her, but it does. It’s why she is the way she is. Why she pushes people away before they get too close.”

Seungcheol exhaled, leaning back in his seat. “And you’re telling me this because…?”

Jeonghan met his gaze, all traces of amusement gone. “Because if you’re serious about her, you need to know what you’re up against.”

Now, he understood just how much he had to fight for you. Seungcheol stayed quiet, his mind replaying every interaction he’d had with you. The push and pull, the way you shut him out just when he thought he was getting close. Now, it all made sense.

Jeonghan sighed, watching him carefully before speaking again.

“It’s hard to love her less once you get to know her more.”

Seungcheol’s gaze snapped up, meeting Jeonghan’s knowing eyes.

“That’s why she keeps people at arm’s length,” Jeonghan continued. “Because she knows it too. She’s terrified of people staying just long enough to leave.”

Seungcheol exhaled sharply. “And you think I’m just like everyone else?”

Jeonghan smirked, but there was something softer behind it. “I think you’re different. That’s why she’s this scared.”

Seungcheol didn’t sleep much that night.

Jeonghan’s words stayed with him, looping in his mind until he couldn’t ignore them anymore. You weren’t just pushing him away because you wanted to—you were pushing him away because you were scared. Because you expected him to leave.

And if there was one thing Seungcheol hated, it was being predictable.

The next day, he found himself outside your office again, leaning against his car with his arms crossed. He knew your schedule well enough by now, and when he saw you stepping out, he straightened.

You stopped in your tracks the moment you saw him. 

“What are you doing here?” Your voice was flat, but Seungcheol could hear the exhaustion underneath it.

He pushed himself off the car, hands slipping into his pockets. “I needed to see you.”

You exhaled through your nose, already tired of this conversation. “Cheol—”

“No,” he interrupted gently. “This time, just listen.”

Your eyes narrowed, but you didn’t walk away. That was enough for him.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between you. “You asked me what I wanted from you. I didn’t answer then, so I’ll answer now.” His voice was steady, unwavering. “I want you. I want every version of you—the one who glares at me, the one who shuts me out, the one who lets her guard down when she thinks no one’s looking.”

“And then what?”

Seungcheol tilted his head slightly. “Then I keep wanting you. Even when you push me away. Even when you tell yourself you don’t care.”

Your jaw tightened, your emotions warring against your better judgment. “I don’t need saving, Seungcheol.”

“I know,” he said easily. “You never did. But you do need someone who stays.”

Silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words. Seungcheol could see the way your fingers twitched, 

So he softened, just enough. “Jeonghan told me.”

Your breath hitched, and for the first time, Seungcheol saw something other than defiance in your eyes. It was vulnerability, raw and unguarded.

“I don’t pity you,” he said before you could say anything. “I don’t think you’re broken. I just wish you’d let me in.”

You let out a breath, but it wasn’t exasperation this time. It sounded tired. Resigned. “I don’t know how,” you admitted.

Seungcheol gave you a small smile, tilting his head toward his car. “Then let’s figure it out.”

You stared at him for a long moment, trying to convince yourself this was a bad idea. That you should walk away like you always did.

But for the first time in a long time, you didn’t.

Instead, you exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “You’re so fucking annoying.”

Seungcheol grinned. “And yet, here you are.”

He opened the car door for you, waiting. And after another beat, you got in.

As Seungcheol got into the driver’s seat, you folded your arms and eyed him suspiciously.

“So?” you prompted.

He glanced at you. “So, what?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What exactly did Jeonghan tell you?”

Seungcheol tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, as if debating how much to say. “Enough.”

You scoffed. “Right. That’s not vague at all.” He smirked but didn’t answer immediately, which only irritated you more.

You shifted in your seat, arms tightening around yourself. “He probably just told you my sob story to make you feel bad.”

He exhaled. “Yeah, he told me about your parents, about how things weren’t easy. But he didn’t say it so I’d pity you.” His voice softened. “He said it so I’d understand you.”

You stared at him, lips parting slightly before you shut them again.

“Jeonghan’s known you for years,” Seungcheol continued. “And he made it pretty damn clear that if I wanted to keep you in my life, I had to stop being an idiot and actually see you.”

You swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “And what do you see?”

Seungcheol’s gaze held yours, steady and unyielding. “Someone who pretends not to care because it’s safer. Someone who pushes people away before they get the chance to leave.”

“But also,” he went on, “someone who cares way more than she lets on. Someone who makes it impossible for people to love her less once they’ve gotten to know her.”

Your head snapped back to him. That was Jeonghan’s exact wording.

Seungcheol’s lips twitched. “Yeah, he said that too.”

You huffed, leaning your head against the window. “He talks too much.”

Seungcheol chuckled, but then his voice dropped, quieter now. “Look, I’m not here because of what Jeonghan told me. I’m here because I don’t want to be just another person you expect to leave.”

You didn’t answer right away. Because you didn’t know how. Instead, you just muttered, “You’re annoying,” under your breath.

Seungcheol smirked. “You’ve mentioned.”

The ride was quiet, but not uncomfortable. He didn’t push you to say anything more, and you weren’t ready to give him any more than you already had.

When he pulled up in front of your building, he put the car in park and turned to you. “So what now?”

You shrugged, gripping the door handle. “I don’t know.”

Seungcheol leaned back against his seat, watching you carefully. “Are you gonna keep avoiding me?”

You hesitated, fingers tightening around the handle. “…No.”

That seemed to amuse him. “That didn’t sound very convincing.”

You sighed, turning to face him properly. “I don’t know how to do this, Seungcheol.”

His expression softened. “Then let’s figure it out together.”

You stared at him, searching for something—any sign that this was some kind of game. But all you found was patience, quiet and unwavering.

You exhaled and looked away. “I should go.”

He nodded, but before you could push the door open, he spoke again. “You never answered my question.”

You frowned. “What question?”

Seungcheol tilted his head, as if debating whether to repeat himself. Then, in a voice much softer than before, he said, “What do you want?”

Your breath hitched because wasn’t that the question you’d been running from this whole time?

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, your heart hammering in your chest. “I don’t know,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Seungcheol studied you for a long moment, then simply nodded. “Okay.”

You blinked. “Okay?”

He smiled slightly. “Okay. You don’t have to know yet.”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “That easy, huh?”

His smile grew. “Not everything has to be a fight, you know.”

“Tell that to my brain.”

Seungcheol chuckled. “I’ll work on it.”

You bit your lip, stealing one last glance at him before finally opening the door. “Good night, Seungcheol.”

“Good night,” he said.

PART TWO COMING SOON

[ayumigotabittoolonely]

Gojo Satoru x older reader (7 age gap) headcanons

Synopsis - as a.normal adult that lived a stressful life , who thought she'll get a reason to live, pushing all the stress aside.

Warnings ⚠️ - f!reader , older reader. Reader is 28 and he is 21! A university student.

© not canon this is just a work of fiction, fuck off if you are pissed.

♡ Younger gojo - You first meet Satoru at a café near his university, where you often stop by after work. He’s loud, effortlessly charming, and annoyingly persistent when he notices you.

♡ Younger gojo - He overhears your conversation with a friend about work stress and, in typical Gojo fashion, inserts himself into the conversation with a teasing remark.

♡ Younger gojo- He starts showing up at the café more often, making playful comments about how it must be fate that you always run into each other.

♡ Younger gojo - He shamelessly flirts with you, dropping cheesy pick-up lines like, "So, how does it feel to be my ideal type?" or "You're a whole seven years older? Damn, you’re basically my cool, sexy senpai."

♡ Younger gojo - He teases you about your ‘serious adult job,’ acting mock-impressed whenever you talk about work responsibilities.

♡ Younger gojo-Despite his playful nature, you notice he actually listens when you vent about work. He remembers little details,your annoying coworker’s name, your favorite way to destress,and brings them up later in thoughtful ways.

♡ Younger gojo -You hesitate at first because of the age gap. Seven years may not be huge, but you still see him as a reckless, flirtatious university student.

♡ Younger gojo You remind him, "Aren't you too young for me?" only for him to smirk and reply, "Nah, you're just too perfect for me to ignore."

♡ Younger gojo - He works hard to prove he’s not just some immature kid. He’s persistent, but not in an overwhelming way he gives you space while making it clear he’s serious.

♡ Younger gojo - He loves calling you "Ms. [Last Name]" just to see your reaction. You roll your eyes, but he sees the small smirk you try to hide.

♡ Younger gojo-He lives to fluster you, whispering teasing things in public just to see you struggle to keep your composure.

♡ Younger gojo-He insists on paying for dates even though you earn more than him. If you tease him about it, he pouts dramatically: "Let me be a gentleman, okay?"

♡ Younger gojo-He loves stealing your work shirts or sweaters, claiming they ‘smell like you.’ It’s his comfort when he’s drowning in university assignments.

♡ Younger gojo-You’re more level-headed, but he has a way of making life exciting. He drags you out of your routine, making you loosen up and have fun.

♡ Younger gojo-He’s surprisingly good at giving emotional support. If you ever feel overwhelmed by work, he makes you take breaks and does something stupid just to make you laugh.

♡ Younger gojo-But he’s still Gojoz,immature at times. He complains dramatically when you act too much like an ‘adult’ “Babe, stop being so responsible and come play with meee.”

♡ Younger gojo-You find yourself being the one reminding him to study, eat properly, and sleep on time. You joke about babysitting him, but deep down, you don’t really mind.

♡ Younger gojo - He casually talks about the future with you, dropping comments like "When I graduate, we should move somewhere nice."

♡ Younger gojo - You worry about how people might view your relationship, but he never lets it get to him. "Who cares what they think? I have the coolest girlfriend ever, i mean mommy-" you smacked him.

To the ones Asking me if gojo was my favourite NO he is not ☹️ my suguru bby is, why do I create so much fics about him then?

Alright so Cannonically I m similar to gojo YES I m , like seriously. When I first saw gojo , I was like , he is me , I m him. So it's like , i know myself better than anyone else, that's why I make gojo fics more often, some fics are based on real life incidents 🫦

[holyblonded]

always sunny in australia

pairings: tillies x teen!reader

summary: your first debut for the tillies

warnings: mentions of anxiety

notes: this is such a switch from estrella i love it. also apologies because it’s a bit short but i am getting to writing a character like this so give me grace 🙏🏾

you guys can also request stories for this too!

You anxiously chew on your lip as you sit in your cubby, watching your teammates move around the locker room, pulling on their socks, tying their cleats, shaking out their limbs. The energy in the room is electric— excitement, determination, focus. But all you can feel is the nervous pit growing in your stomach.

Your fingers tremble as you retie your laces for what feels like the tenth time, your knee bouncing up and down in a restless rhythm. The fluorescent lights hum above you, their sterile glow making everything feel too bright, too sharp. The sound of studs scraping against the floor, the murmur of pre-game rituals, the distant echo of the stadium crowd, it all blurs together in a disorienting buzz.

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until a voice snaps you out of it.

“You nervous?”

You jolt slightly, looking up to see your captain standing over you, arms crossed, an amused yet knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“No,” you blurt out, shaking your head a little too fast. Your voice comes out higher than usual, unconvincing even to your own ears. Sam raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.

Ellie, tying her cleats a few cubbies over, snorts. “Please, we all saw you nearly pass out in the warm-up, kid.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “That was one time.”

Steph walks by, ruffling your hair. “Sure, kid. One time. And yesterday. And the day before that.”

Caitlin grins as she leans against the locker. “It’s kinda cute, honestly.”

“Yeah, in a baby bird who might pass out kind of way,” Ellie adds.

You let out a dramatic sigh, slumping forward. “This is bullying.”

Mini laughs, patting your back. “Nah, this is love.”

Sam, still beside you, finally takes mercy. She plops down and throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into her side. It’s grounding, the solid warmth of her presence, the steady rise and fall of her breathing.

“Listen, Kiddie,” she says, her voice softer now, reassuring. “I was your age when I debuted, and I nearly shit my pants. No joke.”

That earns a small laugh from you, but Sam continues, her tone serious despite the grin playing on her lips.

“But here’s the thing, you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t ready. If you didn’t have pure talent and skill, they wouldn’t have called you up. You belong here, and you’ve got all of us behind you. You have nothing to worry about.”

You take a shaky breath, nodding, letting her words sink in. Maybe she’s right. No. She is right.

“Thanks, Sammy,” you murmur, and she smiles before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

“Anytime, Kiddie.”

Before you can respond, the coach’s voice booms through the locker room.

“Game time!”

The room erupts into motion. Your heart pounds, but this time, there’s something else mixed in with the nerves, excitement. You take one last deep breath, stand up, and follow your team out onto the field.

The stadium lights bear down on you, illuminating the field in a way that makes everything feel surreal. The roar of the crowd is deafening, a mix of Australian and American fans creating a constant buzz that fills your chest with nerves.

You blink. For a second, the lights seem too bright, the world almost dreamlike.

You shake your head quickly, grounding yourself back in the moment. Focus.

Sam is hyping everyone up, her voice loud and confident. Caitlin gives you a nod, her usual calm demeanor somehow reassuring.

“Ready, kid?” Alanna nudges you with her elbow.

You take a deep breath and nod. You don’t know if it’s entirely true, but you want it to be.

“Good,” she grins. “Let’s give ’em hell.”

Ellie cracks her knuckles beside you. “Try not to faint, alright?”

Before you can reply, Mini elbows her. “Leave the kid alone, she’s already stressing.”

“I’m not stressing,” you protest weakly.

Mini raises an eyebrow. “Right, and I’m a six-foot striker.”

Steph smirks. “Hey, that’d be terrifying.”

Ellie grins. “I’d score a hat trick every game.”

“Against an open goal, maybe,” Caitlin mutters.

Before Ellie can argue, the ref’s whistle cuts through the noise.

The U.S. comes out aggressive, pressing hard and fast, making it difficult for your team to settle. You track back defensively, trying to hold your own against their left-back, who isn’t giving you an inch of space. The pace is relentless, and your lungs burn, but you push through it.

Then, in the 23rd minute, the U.S. strikes first. A sharp cross, a towering header, and just like that, you’re down 1-0.

Macca picks the ball out of the net, shaking her head but clapping her hands. “We go again!”

Sam shouts, “Heads up, we’re still in this!”

And she’s right. Because ten minutes later, you get your first real moment.

Mini finds you out wide with a pinpoint pass. You take a quick touch, feel the defender closing in, and then you burst forward. A sharp cut inside, a feint, and you slip past her. The space opens up just enough. You whip in a cross, and there’s Mary, perfectly positioned. One touch, back of the net.

1-1.

The celebration is instant. Mary grins at you, offering a fist bump as the team huddles together. Steph ruffles your hair, and Ellie slaps your back.

“That’s more like it! Goal in your first debut!” Alanna shouts.

“See, baby bird can fly,” Caitlin teases.

For the first time all game, you let yourself breathe. You’re doing it. You’re here.

The U.S. regains the lead early in the second half with a rocket from distance. Macca dives, fingertips grazing the ball, but it’s not enough.

2-1.

You jog back to your position, frustration bubbling under your skin. You glance up into the stands, and for a split second, your breath catches.

A little girl with an Australian flag painted on her face. She has an old Tillies jersey, but it’s her sign that caught your attention. It had your name on it obviously in her hand writing.

“Stay in it,” Sam mouths, bringing you back.

And you do. Minute 78. Your moment comes.

Mini wins the ball in midfield and immediately looks for you. The second you see her foot swing, you’re already moving. The ball zips toward you, perfect weight, perfect angle. You take one touch, just enough to set yourself up, and then, you strike.

It’s clean. Pure. The ball curls, spinning past the keeper’s outstretched hands. The net ripples.

For a second, everything is silent in your head. And then, chaos.

Ellie practically jumps on your back. Caitlin grabs your shoulders, shaking you with excitement. Alanna and Steph clap you on the back, and Mini, beaming, yells, “THAT’S MY GIRL!”

But it’s Sam’s voice that cuts through the noise.

“THAT’S MY KID!”

The match ends shortly after. 2-2. A draw against the U.S., and considering the way your team is celebrating, it feels like a win.

As the final whistle blows, you exchange handshakes, feeling the adrenaline finally start to fade. Your legs are heavy, exhaustion creeping in. You quietly peel away from the group, heading toward the tunnel, wanting to slip away unnoticed. But before you can disappear, an arm wraps around your shoulders.

“Where are you going, Kiddie?”

Sam’s voice is light, teasing, as she gently redirects you.

“The locker room?” you answer hesitantly, furrowing your brows.

She chuckles. “Nope. I have someone you need to meet.”

She steers you toward the center of the field, where a blonde U.S. player is waiting with an easy smirk.

“Sunny, this is Kristie,” Sam says, grinning. “My better half.”

Ellie leans in from behind you. “The actual boss of Sam Kerr.”

Kristie extends a hand, her smirk softening into a warm smile. “Nice goal, kid. You gave us trouble out there.”

You shake her hand, still feeling a little starstruck. “Uh, thanks.”

Sam squeezes your shoulder. “She’s shy, but don’t worry, she’ll warm up.”

Kristie laughs. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

Ellie gasps dramatically. “You mean Sam wasn’t born screaming orders at people?”

Caitlin grins. “Shocking, I know.”

You glance between the two of them as they exchange knowing looks. The nerves that had been weighing you down all night start to fade, replaced by something warmer, acceptance.

[serenityluvz]

𝗘𝗻𝗵𝘆𝗽𝗲𝗻 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: 𝗔𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗠𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝗗𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗻’𝘁 𝗟𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗬𝗼𝘂

⋆𐙚₊˚ˢᵉʳᵉⁿⁱᵗʸᴸᵘᵛᶻ

Heeseung – "If they can��t respect you, they don’t respect me."

Heeseung doesn’t take drama lightly. If another member is being cold toward you, he notices immediately. He won’t cause a scene, but he will absolutely have a private conversation about it. You try to brush it off, pretending you don’t notice the way one of the members keeps giving you the cold shoulder. But Heeseung notices. He watches quietly, jaw clenching every time they dismiss you or make side comments. That night, after everyone leaves, he leans in, brushing his fingers against your cheek. "Tell me the truth," he murmurs. "Are they making you uncomfortable?" If you admit that it bothers you, he won’t let it slide. Heeseung will pull the member aside and make it clear—they don’t have to like you, but they will respect you.

Jay – "I don’t care what they think—I care about you."

Jay is mature about it. If another member doesn’t like you, he’s not going to fight over it—but that doesn’t mean he’ll tolerate any disrespect. "Jay, it’s fine," you mumble, avoiding his gaze. "Not everyone has to like me." His hand tightens around yours. "No, but they do have to respect you." Jay doesn’t let it fester. He pulls the member aside and talks it out, making it clear that he won’t stand for anyone making you feel unwelcome. And if the problem continues? He distances himself from them—because you come first.

Jake – "I just want everyone to get along…"

Jake hates conflict. He doesn’t understand why another member wouldn’t like you, and he spends way too much time trying to fix things. "Maybe if you guys just spent more time together, you’d get along!" he says optimistically. You sigh, shaking your head. "Jake, not everything can be fixed that easily." His smile falters, and for once, he looks serious. "Okay," he says softly. "Then if they can’t respect you, I’ll just keep my distance from them." Jake wants peace, but if he has to choose between them and you? You win, every time.

Sunghoon – "That’s their problem, not yours."

Sunghoon acts like he doesn’t care, but deep down? He’s fuming. He won’t start a fight, but he will start being colder toward the member who disrespects you. "Sunghoon, I don’t want to cause problems between you guys," you whisper. He scoffs, pulling you onto his lap. "They’re the ones causing problems, not you," he mutters, pressing a kiss to your temple. "If they don’t like you, that’s their loss." From that moment on, Sunghoon makes it very clear whose side he’s on. If that member is around, he keeps his arm around you, always making subtle digs to remind them exactly who you belong to.

Sunoo – "Do they think I care?"

Sunoo is petty. If a member doesn’t like you, he doesn’t like them either. He won’t even hide it—he’ll throw shade, make sarcastic comments, and be extra affectionate with you just to piss them off. You hesitate before telling Sunoo about the tension, not wanting to start drama. But the moment you do? He laughs. "Oh, they don’t like you?" he says, smirking. "Guess what? I don’t like them." From then on, Sunoo is extra clingy in front of them, making sure they know exactly where he stands. And if they dare make a rude comment? Oh, he’s firing back, no hesitation.

Jungwon – "I’ll handle it."

Jungwon is mature about it, but intimidating when necessary. He won’t let it turn into drama, but if a member is making you uncomfortable? He will deal with it. He listens carefully as you explain the situation, his expression unreadable. "I’ll talk to them," he says simply. And he does. The next time they see each other, Jungwon takes them aside and speaks in a low, firm voice. You don’t know what he says, but after that? The member suddenly starts treating you with a lot more respect.

Ni-ki – "Tch. Like I care."

Ni-ki is young, but he’s also incredibly loyal. If another member doesn’t like you, he immediately dislikes them. "They don’t like you?" he scoffs, pulling you closer. "Whatever. I don’t need their approval." Ni-ki won’t go out of his way to start problems, but he will go out of his way to ignore them completely. If they try to talk to him, he just stares. If they joke around, he doesn’t laugh. And if they ever try to disrespect you again? Oh, they’re done.

[gdinthehouseee]

I Belong To You: KWON JI-YONG x READER

summary: after years of being separated, and a night of stolen glances and unspoken feelings, your ex-boyfriend, ji-yong, invites you to his penthouse.

word count: 4024

tags: angst to fluff; exes to lovers, jealousy, slightly spicy towards the end

ao3 link

Ji-yong swirls the amber liquid in his glass, watching the way it catches the light, pretending he doesn’t notice the way cameras keep panning to you. But he does. How could he not notice the way you’re dressed in something stunning, the way you continue to command attention without lifting a finger, the way you’re pretending not to notice him too. He knows you a little too well for your liking—he always has.

Briefly pulling him out of his own head, the audience erupts into polite applause as the host rattles on about the next category, but the words barely register in his mind. He knows the drill—clap, nod, look engaged. He’s done this a million times. But tonight, it’s different. Not because you’re here. No. The two of you have been pretending not to see each other sitting so close yet so far from each other for a few years now.

Tonight is different because this time you’re not alone.

The artist you recently collaborated with is sitting beside you, leaning in too close, whispering something in your ear that makes you laugh. Ji-yong doesn’t have to check his phone to know what’s already happening. The cameras have caught it, the fans have seen it, and the internet is losing its mind. There will be clips, slowed-down edits, overanalyzed expressions. People will pick apart every second, searching for something—anything—to confirm their theories. Some will say you’ve finally moved on. Others will refuse to believe it, insisting you’re just trying to make him jealous. And maybe, in some twisted way, they’re right. Because the longer Ji-yong watches, the more certain he becomes that you know exactly what you’re doing. And it’s working.

The whispers had been there for months. Quiet speculations, half-serious comments under posts.

"Why haven’t they been seen together lately?""Ji-yong didn’t like her last three posts… something feels off.""She used to wear his jewelry all the time. When’s the last time we saw it?"

But nothing set the internet on fire like the day you released that song. It wasn’t an outright breakup anthem—no names, no obvious details. But it was melancholic. Raw. The kind of song that settled under the skin, playing in the back of people's minds long after it ended. And the lyrics…

You weren’t angry. You weren’t bitter. You were heartbroken. It didn’t take long before the theories started rolling in.

"Wait. Wait. WAIT. Is this a breakup song??"“Please tell me she just felt like making a break-up song…” "If they’re still together, why would she write this??""IS THIS ABOUT GD???”

Some refused to believe it, digging for loopholes, convincing themselves it was just a song. But the more they analyzed the lyrics, the deeper they spiraled. Someone found an old interview where you had casually mentioned, "I write best from experience." And that’s when the internet really lost its mind.

Breakup edits flooded timelines. Your old moments together—laughing, whispering, looking at each other like no one else in the world existed—now repurposed under the saddest soundtracks imaginable. Fan accounts were in shambles. Some mourned. Others coped through denial. But one tweet said it best:

"If this song is really about Ji-yong, I don’t think I’ll ever recover."

Ji-yong saw that tweet. And he hasn’t recovered either.

He should have known tonight wouldn’t have been any easier than the last few award shows. From the moment you walked into the venue, the cameras couldn’t get enough of you. The fans couldn’t stop screaming your name. And now, as you stand on stage beside him, accepting the award for Best Collaboration, Ji-yong feels a familiar, sinking weight in his chest.

You thank your team, your fans, everyone who made this happen. Your collaborator smiles beside you, the two of you standing close—too close—and Ji-yong knows the internet is already eating this up.

The lights shift. The first notes of your song together play. 

Ji-yong leans back in his seat, jaw tight, as you and your collaborator exchange a glance before stepping into position. The performance is effortless—smooth, intimate, rehearsed. Every look, every touch, every perfectly timed harmony makes it clear why the song was a hit. The chemistry is there, and Ji-yong isn’t the only one who notices. Fans are already screaming. Social media is probably on fire.

And then—just when Ji-yong thinks he can finally breathe—the lights don’t turn up again, in fact, they dim even lower. There’s a pause. Murmurs ripple through the venue.

Then, a single spotlight. It lands on you, and the opening chords of that song begin to play.

Ji-yong stiffens. He hears the collective gasp from the audience, feels the energy shift. Because this—this wasn’t publicly announced. This wasn’t planned. And yet, here you are, standing alone in the center of the stage, staring straight into the camera as you sing the first words.

"I don’t blame you, I just miss you."

The same line that had sent the internet spiraling. The song is stripped down—just a piano, raw vocals, and heartbreak woven into every note. Ji-yong doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe. The entire venue is silent, hanging onto every word. Because this is the moment. The confirmation. The truth. No one can deny it anymore. This is the breakup song. This is the proof. This is what the fans had been speculating about for years.

The camera pans through the audience, catching dropped jaws, wide eyes, people clinging to their seats. Some fans are already in tears. Others are recording with shaking hands.

And Ji-yong? He’s gripping his phone so tightly his knuckles turn white. Because the way you sing it—soft, emotional, your voice cracking just enough on the high notes—he knows it’s real. He knows it’s about him. 

When you reach the bridge—the part that had wrecked him the first time he heard it—your voice softens, turning almost fragile. The lyrics cut through the silence like a confession, every word laced with something raw, something unspoken. He feels it in his chest, the weight of your voice pressing down on him like gravity. The way you linger on certain lines, how your lips part just slightly before the next note—it’s all too familiar. Because he knows this song. He was the one who used to hear those words before anyone else. He was the one who knew what they truly meant.

Then, for the briefest second, your eyes flicker across the room.

And when they finally land on him—just for a moment, just long enough to steal the air from his lungs—Ji-yong forgets everything else.

It’s barely noticeable, but he catches it. The slightest hesitation, the way your breath hitches before the next lyric, the flicker of something deep in your gaze before you force yourself to look away. But he saw it. And it’s enough. Because no matter how much time has passed, no matter how many headlines or rumors or new collaborations have tried to fill the space between you—this moment tells him everything.

You still feel it, too.

Ji-yong exhales, shaking his head, running his tongue over his teeth before looking down at his phone. Without a second thought, he opens the contact that never blocked him. The contact that maybe should have blocked him all those years ago. The contact that shut the door, yet never locked it.

Your heart is still racing as you make your way back to your seat. The applause is deafening, a mix of cheers and shocked murmurs rippling through the venue. You don’t need to check social media to know it’s already in flames—fan theories igniting, clips of your performance circulating within seconds. But none of it matters. Not right now.

Because the only thing on your mind is him.

Sliding into your seat, you smooth your dress over your legs, trying to steady your breathing. Your collaborator leans over, whispering something about how insane that moment was, how the internet is probably imploding, but his voice barely registers.

Your phone vibrates in your palm.

“Come over once this is done.”

You stare at the words, fingers tightening around your phone. The weight of his message settles over you, heavy and intoxicating all at once. He’s not even pretending. No casual “Congratulations.” No vague “We should catch up.” Just this. Direct. Certain. Exactly like him, painfully so.

Your thumb hovers over the keyboard for a moment before you start typing. “Yours or mine?”

The reply comes almost instantly.

“Don’t make me wait.”

A slow exhale leaves your lips. The meaning is clear.

You lock your phone, not even bothering to reply, pulse thrumming against your skin. The award show continues around you—more speeches, more performances, more things you should probably be paying attention to. But the only thing you can think about is the fact that in just a little while, you’ll be face to face with Ji-yong again. Something tells you neither of you will be walking away unscathed. You can’t help but think of the last time you were in his penthouse.

Maybe it was the rain that made everything feel heavier that night, or maybe it was the way Ji-yong wouldn’t look at you when he said it. “Maybe we should stop this.”  You had known, deep down, that he was already halfway out the door, that the fights weren’t really fights anymore but drawn-out endings neither of you wanted to name. “Would you have ever let me go?”  He had asked, voice quiet, almost pleading. And you hadn’t answered—because the truth was, you never would have. So he did it for you. And now, after standing under those stage lights, singing the words that had lived in your chest ever since—I don’t blame you. I just miss you.—you knew he was out there, listening. You knew he understood. He has always known you a little too well, and he always will. 

The city pulsed beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, neon signs flickering in and out of focus, their glow reflecting off the sleek marble floors. Inside, it was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that felt deliberate, heavy with the things neither of you had said in too long.

You stepped further in, the soft click of your heels the only sound between you. The air smelled like him—something warm, familiar, laced with the faintest trace of smoke. Ji-yong stood by the window, back turned, a cigarette burning between his fingers, untouched. He wasn’t smoking it. Just holding it, watching the city below like it might have answers.

"You came," he murmured, not turning around. His voice was lower than you remembered, a little rough around the edges.

"You told me to."

He finally turned then, his gaze sweeping over you, lingering. His lips curled into something unreadable—half a smirk, half something else, something more cautious. Like he hadn’t actually expected you to show. Like he wasn’t sure whether he wanted you to.

"Hell of a performance tonight," he said, voice deceptively light.

You swallowed, tilting your head. "Which part?"

"You know which part."

Of course you did. It had been impossible to miss—how the audience lost their minds when the first chords of your solo rang out, how the camera panned to him the second your voice wrapped around the lyrics. The ones you had written with him still lingering in the back of your mind. The ones he recognized the moment you sang them.

You shifted, arms crossing over your chest, suddenly too aware of the weight in the air. "Did you mean it?" you asked, voice quieter than you intended.

His jaw tightened. "Did you?"

It wasn’t an answer. But maybe neither of you had one. Not yet. The silence between you stretched, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. Outside, the city still pulsed, but here—here, it was just you and him, standing in the aftermath of something neither of you had figured out how to name.

Ji-yong finally moved, stepping away from the window, snuffing out his cigarette in a crystal ashtray on the table. "Sit," he said, nodding toward the couch.

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to—but because you knew what this was. You knew the pattern, the pull, the way the air always seemed to shift when you were in the same room. It didn’t matter how much time had passed, how many miles had stretched between you. The moment you let yourself be near him, the distance never seemed to matter at all. Still, you sat.

Ji-yong watched you for a moment before settling into the armchair across from you, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. His gaze flickered over your face, like he was searching for something—like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to find it.

"How long are we gonna do this?" His voice was quieter now, less teasing, more careful.

"Do what?" You knew what he meant, but you weren’t ready to give him that. Not yet.

He huffed out something like a laugh, shaking his head. "You know what. The stolen glances. The bullshit small talk when we run into each other. The way half the internet still thinks we’re secretly together."

You tilted your head, letting the words hang between you for a moment before saying, "Depends on what your definition of ‘stopping’ was."

His lips parted slightly, and you saw the moment the words hit—like an echo of that night, when he’d stood in this very room and told you that whatever this was… wasn’t working. That the two of you should stop seeing each other. When you hadn’t answered, because you hadn’t wanted to stop at all.

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. "You know why I texted you."

You leaned back against the couch, exhaling slowly. "Do I?"

"I saw you up there." His voice was lower now, quieter, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say it out loud. "Singing that song. Looking at me."

"It’s a song, Ji-yong." Your fingers curled slightly against your lap.

"Don’t do that." He ran a hand through his hair, eyes flashing. "Don’t act like that was just a song. Like you weren’t—" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You meant it. I know you did."

Your stomach twisted. Because he was right. The song wasn’t a lie. It was the closest thing to the truth you could bring yourself to say, wrapped in melody and lyrics and the weight of everything left behind. You had known the moment you performed it that he’d hear every unspoken word between the lines. And yet, a part of you had still been surprised by how much it seemed to hit him.

Ji-yong leaned forward again, his elbows braced on his knees. "Did you write it because you were angry?"

You blinked. "What?"

"The song." His gaze burned into you. "Was it because you were angry at me?"

You let out a breath of something close to a laugh, shaking your head. "No, Ji-yong."

"Then why?"

"Because I missed you."

The words hung between you, heavier than anything else in the room. Ji-yong’s lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, his fingers tugging at the strands in frustration. "So what, you missed me, but you moved on?" His voice was lower now, rough around the edges, like he was forcing himself to stay calm. But you knew him too well—knew the tension in his shoulders, the way his leg bounced slightly, the heat in his gaze.

You frowned. "What?"

"Him." He tilted his chin toward the muted TV, where clips of your performance still played, his eyes dark and unreadable. "You and him." His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and his jaw flexed. "That’s real, isn’t it?"

"Ji-yong—"

"Just say it." His voice was firmer now, raw with something that almost sounded like desperation. "Tell me you’re with him."

Your breath caught in your throat. "I’m not."

Something flickered in his expression—relief, maybe—but it was gone in a second, buried under something heavier. "But you could be, right?" He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You look good together. The internet thinks so, anyway. Maybe that’s what you needed—someone who wasn’t afraid to have you by his side, out in the open."

You flinched at the accusation in his tone. "That’s not fair."

"Isn’t it?" He leaned in, his eyes burning into yours. "You think I don’t see the way people talk? How they say you’re happier now? How they beg you to move on from me?" His voice dropped even lower, like he was choking on the words. "Maybe you already have."

Your chest tightened. "Ji-yong, it was just a song. Just a performance."

"Doesn’t look like that’s all it was."

"And whose fault is that?" The words snapped from your lips before you could stop them, and Ji-yong stilled, his breath hitching.

Silence stretched between you yet again. Your heart pounded, but you didn’t look away. "You were the one who said we should stop, remember?" Your voice wavered, but it didn’t break. "You walked away first. And now you’re angry because someone else was willing to stand next to me?"

Ji-yong’s throat bobbed, his fists clenching against his knees. "I—"

"You don’t get to be mad about this."

"Like hell I don’t." His voice was rough now, sharp with emotion as he sat forward, his hands gripping his knees so tightly his knuckles turned white. "You think I wanted to walk away? You think I don’t regret it every fucking day?" His jaw clenched, his eyes blazing. "Do you know what it does to me, seeing you with him? Seeing the way you smiled up at him tonight, the way he had his hands on you like he had the right?"

Your breath caught, your stomach twisting. "Ji-yong—"

"It makes me sick," he rasped, his voice nearly breaking. "Because it should be me."

The room felt impossibly small, the air thick with everything unspoken, everything left behind. You could feel your pulse in your throat, your fingers trembling against your lap.

And then, softer this time, almost like he hated himself for admitting it—

"It should’ve always been me."

The weight of his words settled between you, heavy and suffocating. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension in the space closing in, crackling like a live wire. His eyes searched yours, dark and desperate, and something in you snapped.

Before you could second-guess it—before reason could talk you out of it—you surged forward, gripping the front of his shirt and pulling him in.

Ji-yong barely had time to inhale before your lips crashed into his. A sharp inhale, a shuddered exhale—then he was kissing you back with just as much fire, his hands flying to your waist, pulling you flush against him. The moment his fingers dug into your skin, a quiet, broken sound slipped from your throat, and that was all it took for him to completely unravel. His hands slid up, one tangling into your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. His lips were frantic, almost desperate, molding against yours in a way that felt both familiar and like something entirely new. You gasped against his mouth as his teeth grazed your bottom lip, and he took the opportunity to press even closer, his grip tightening like he was terrified you’d slip away again.

The taste of him—faint traces of champagne and something unmistakably him—sent a shiver down your spine. Your fingers fisted in his shirt, as if holding onto him could stop the past from swallowing you both whole. It was intoxicating. Overwhelming. And so, so dangerous.

When the two of you finally needed to breathe, your breaths tangled in the space between you, uneven and desperate, his forehead pressed against yours like he couldn’t bear to let go. His grip on your waist was firm, his fingers still curled into the fabric of your outfit, as if releasing you meant losing you all over again. His name was on the tip of your tongue, but the weight of everything—the past, the pain, the longing—held it back. Instead, you exhaled softly, your fingers loosening their hold on his shirt just enough to smooth over the wrinkles you had left behind.

"It always has been you."

Ji-yong tensed. His breath caught, and for a second, he didn’t move. Like the words had struck him too deeply, like he wasn’t sure he had heard them right.

And then, slowly, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching, desperate for something—reassurance, confirmation, maybe even permission. "Say it again," he murmured, his voice rough.

Your hand slid up, resting against his cheek, your thumb brushing just below the dark smudge of eyeliner that had started to smudge from the heat between you. "It always has been you, Ji-yong."

Something in him broke.

With a sharp inhale, he crashed his lips against yours again, this time with even more urgency, like he had something to prove. Like he needed to remind you, remind himself, of everything you had once been. His hands roamed, gripping, pulling, desperate to keep you as close as possible. You gasped against his mouth, and he swallowed the sound with a groan, deepening the kiss until the rest of the world blurred into nothing.

His hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your back, fingers threading through your hair as he tilted your head just the way he liked. The kiss deepened, his lips pressing into yours with a hunger that bordered on desperation, like he was trying to erase the time you had spent apart. Like he needed to remind you exactly who he was, who he had always been to you.

"You don’t know what you do to me," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, his breath warm as his mouth trailed lower. His lips ghosted over your jaw, down the column of your throat, lingering at the spot just below your ear. "I tried, baby." He exhaled shakily, his grip tightening at your waist. "I really fucking tried to move on."

Your fingers curled into his shirt, needing something to ground yourself as his teeth grazed your skin, his lips pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down your neck that had your breath hitching. "Ji-yong..."

With a growl, he grabbed your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the nearest surface—a sleek, marble counter, cool against your overheated skin. His hands spread your legs, stepping between them as he pulled you in, molding himself to you like he belonged there. And he did. The two of you belong to each other.

Your lips met again in a mess of teeth and tongues and unspoken words, the air between you thick with everything you had left unsaid. His fingers trailed up your thighs, his grip firm, possessive, like he was reminding himself that you were really here. That he could touch you again.

"Tell me you still feel this," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with want. "Tell me I’m not the only one losing my mind."

You didn’t answer—not with words. Instead, you tugged him closer, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, "I never stopped."

Ji-yong cursed under his breath before crashing his lips to yours again, this time deeper, hungrier, as if those words had undone something inside him. His hands slid to your waist, gripping tight as he lifted you off the counter effortlessly, carrying you through the familiar space like he’d done a hundred times before.

Your back hit the couch, his body covering yours in an instant. His mouth never left your skin, trailing fire wherever he touched. "You’re mine," he murmured against your collarbone, his hands sliding down, gripping your thighs to pull you even closer. "And I’m yours."

taglist: @thanosscrossmain @maskedcrawford @mirahyun @riddlerloveb0t @onyxmango @sherrayyyyy @seunghyunwifey @mattsturniolosbabymama @redhoodedtoad @bettelaboure @petersasteria @allthoughtsmindfull

[miss-lesbian16]

A secret love

Warning: a little bit of groping and injury.

Who would have thought that the daughter of Councilman Kiramman and Sevika, a criminal since she is Silco's right hand, would have an impossible love?

I’m at home, sitting in front of the mirror, dressed in a long silk nightgown while I brush my hair. Today I received a letter saying that Sevika would come to see me. Just then, I heard something tap against my window. I turn and quickly get up to open it; I see Sevika as she steps inside my room.

—"Sevi," —I say excitedly as I move closer to her to hug her—. "I've missed you and worried at the same time. Sevika, I thought something had happened to you; it’s been two weeks since you last came" —I say, lifting my head to meet Sevika's gaze, a deep look, calm yet filled with profound love.

—"I know, babe. It's just that Silco had too much work, and as you know, I'm always the one who handles the dirty work," —she says while her hand gently caresses my head and with her other metallic hand she holds my waist, squeezing it lightly—. "You don’t have to miss me anymore, and worrying about me is unnecessary; nothing is going to happen to me, babe" —she says with a proud smile, as she is the most fearsome and strong woman in Zaun.

—"Yes, I know. My mother never stops talking about you," —I say while laughing. I stop hugging her to guide her to my canopied bed.

Sevika has spent so much time here at night that it’s no longer necessary to insist on sitting down; so Sevika sits comfortably, pulls out a cigar, and starts smoking.

—"It must be good things about me, right?" —she says with more pride and a playful smile. She grabs my hip and pulls me onto her lap with her human hand firmly around my waist.

—"Yes, like how you kill and beat up the enforcers who suspect that their illegal shimmer passes through Piltover," —I say in a tone that’s both serious and playful at the same time.

—But let's stop talking about that and rather tell me, did no one notice when you arrived? —I say curiously, my hands resting on her neck as I look deeply into her eyes.

—Why do you ask? —she says, puzzled, pulling away a little and tightening her grip around my waist—. Does someone already know about us?

—No, no one. Just that some guards informed my mother that someone left through my window in the early morning —I say sarcastically while looking away—. I don't want them to know about us —I say worriedly, my hands moving to her shoulders.

—Are you embarrassed about our relationship? —she says in a serious and natural tone while looking straight into my eyes.

I feel her gaze, even though I’m not looking at her. It’s like... but when she said she was embarrassed about our relationship, I quickly turned to face her.

—No, Sevika, I’m not embarrassed about our relationship. You are the most beautiful thing that has ever happened to me. What I'm afraid of is that they will find out and send me to another nation, separating me from you, and I don’t want that —I say while hugging her. My words came out too fast and a bit desperate—. I love you with all my heart, Sevi —I say with fear but in a loving tone.

—It's okay, I understand. Calm down —she says as she moves her hand from my waist to my head, pulling me back a bit—. Although I know I don’t say it very often, you are also the most beautiful thing I've ever known —she says calmly and then gives me a kiss on the forehead.

I push her so that she lies down on the bed, getting on top of her to then, without warning, start a slow kiss. Sevika lets herself go, placing her metal hand on my back and the other slowly caressing my skin as the kiss becomes more demanding and desperate to the point where Sevika tries to take off my robe.

—Sevika —I say between kisses—. I love you —I say in a moan between kisses.

—I love you too, babe —she says as she lightly bites my lower lip.

My hands start to caress her abdomen under her shirt, but I feel something wet and suddenly pull away from the kiss, sitting on her thighs. I pull out my hand and see blood.

—Sevika! What happened to you? You're hurt! —I say worriedly as I look into her eyes.

Without waiting for her to respond, I lift her shirt and see a bandage already stained with blood.

—It's nothing. I just had a fight and the jerk used a knife and hurt me. But it's nothing to worry about; I just washed the wound and put on a bandage —she says calmly as if it were something natural that happens to her.

—No! Sevika, let me take care of you —I say worriedly—. And how is it not concerning? Sevika! You have a wound on your abdomen! —I say in an angry tone but with more concern.

I get off her while going to the bathroom for alcohol, bandages, cotton balls, towels, and water; everything on a tray. When I come back out, she is sitting in an armchair next to a fireplace but without a shirt on, wearing only her bra.

—Sevi, it wasn't necessary for you to take off your shirt —I say shyly and blushing as I approach her to tend to her wound.

—I see nothing wrong with being like this; besides, I feel more comfortable like this —she says with a calm and mischievous smile.

I sit next to her while Sevika watches all the movements I'm making. I grab the towel and wet it to wring it out and start cleaning the wound; around it, her abdomen moves slightly due to the pain. I leave the towel on the tray; grab the cotton ball and moisten it with alcohol. Gently, I pass the cotton over the wound to disinfect it; Sevika grunts a little.

—Am I hurting you, Sevika? —I ask worriedly but calmly; lifting my gaze.

—No, keep going. Don’t worry —she says with a vulnerable yet serene tone.

—Alright, Sevika; I'll continue —I say worried but somewhat calm.

After a few minutes of treating her wound, once disinfected I take a bandage and gently place it over her injury.

—Done; I'm finished Sevi —I say while grabbing the leftover bandage and leaving it on the tray.

—Babe, it's time for me to go; I have work to do —she says seriously as she stands up and goes to grab her shirt from the bed to put it back on.

—Why so soon? I thought you'd stay to sleep with me —I say surprised; walking towards her stopping her by hugging her from behind before she leaves through the window.

In one swift motion she turns around facing me and starts kissing me passionately and desperately inserting her tongue into my mouth; starting a somewhat messy kiss while her metal hand grabs my butt and the other is on my back. After a few seconds we pull away from the kiss due to lack of air seeing how a string of saliva connected us.

—I’ll be back tomorrow okay? —she says smiling and gasping slightly.

—Alright Sevi; I'll be waiting for you —I say moaning slightly because of the kiss.

Before Sevika pulls away from me she gives me a hard slap on my butt causing me to moan again and unable to say anything she jumps out through the window leaving me alone in my room.

Thanks for reading and I hope you support me. Have a nice morning/day/night

[melanchoire]

ot4 aespa x freeuse reader PLZZZ

so many requests about g!p aespa so HERE WE GO

cw: blowjob, breeding, creampie, degradation, double penetration, handjob, humiliation, mommy kink, riding, sex tape??

being the only member without a dick in a group where all your groupmates have one was a difficult task for you 😣 at first you weren’t aware that they had this... characteristic. but when you found out about it, there was a certain tension whenever you were around them, and you always tried to do everything possible to make sure it wasn’t an awkward moment! buuut there were times when tension and desires won…

unnie karina who always has most of the work; solo activities, special collaborations in music festivals, projects as a model or ambassador. besides being the leader of the group, you already know how that role involves a lot of work and time in the life of an idol and how much maturity and seriousness she has to put in sometimes. she has no time for anything!

so karina returns to the dorms tired after a week full of solo and group activities, flights to other countries and long hours of filming for upcoming campaigns with brands where she is an ambassador or muse. seeing the pout and tired expression on her face as she walks through the door to your room is all you need to know that today you will be the one helping your leader and take care of her as she usually takes care of her members

riding her cock while she can only flatter you and moan beneath you 😵‍💫 karina has no strength today to degrade you or try to dominate you, so she just lies on her back, resting her hands on your hips and enjoying how you’re making her feel good by riding her and helping her take some stress off her exhausted body :( looking up at you with bright puppy eyes, begging “please love. keep going, don’t stop. please.” and you wouldn’t stop even if she begged you! karina always works sooo hard and is usually a punching bag when it comes to criticism, being in the eye of the storm and under the judging gaze of the public 💔 and the best thing you can do is let your dear unnie use your body to forget about the world out there for a bit

ohhh and if you play with her tits while riding her cock 😵‍💫 super whiny and needy when your thumbs rub her nipples, writhing under your body as she thrusts her hips up to bury her cock deeper inside you as if it wasn’t deep enough already!

giselle being the talented writer and producer of songs or mixtapes that were never officially released due to company decisions, but it was no problem at all! she loved working on music as a hobby, enjoying writing songs and making new sounds or trying out other rhythms that caught her attention or were fun. giselle also loved inviting you to her bedroom! recording songs with meaningless but catchy lyrics, playing with voice effects and making instrumentals that were catchy and quite danceable

but giselle sometimes also wants to work on making music seriously, making songs for future projects or opportunities that may arise at some point in the future throughout her career with her group or as a solo artist. but she includes you in her plans too?? she states that she would like the two of you to do a collaboration in case she ever starts a solo career, or in any case, be a sub–unit outside the group or in some song for a group album in the future

she would say, “i would like to try something like ‘call me mommy, mommy.’ or something spicy and naughty like that.” and you would laugh in her face because you thought she was joking! until she arches an eyebrow and you realize that giselle was being completely serious about this…

lying on your stomach on her bed, a pillow under your stomach to lift your hips up so giselle can fuck your pussy from behind while you moan and whine into the microphone connected to her laptop 🥰 of course she could use a sample or be the one to record the moans for this track, but why would she do that when she has a bandmate willing to help her with her musical projects??

whining “mommy” after every time giselle’s voice sings the line “call me mommy, mommy.” and sounding so vulnerable and fragile that giselle begins to question whether she wants to release that song in the future because you sound so beautiful moaning her name that she wants to be the only person who can hear you in that position…

ALSO giselle opening her computer camera and recording or taking photos while she fucks you cruelly from behind 😣 pulling your hair and forcing you to lift your face from the pillows, making you look at your own reflection in the front camera, clicking the mouse and taking a photo at the exact moment her cock kisses your cervix in a thrust that makes you roll your eyes and open your mouth in a silent moan 🫠 but giselle won’t post that photo on her instagram! she would if she could 👀 she prefers to upload it to her private account where she only has the members of the group and her closest friends, showing off to the world the fun she has during the recordings of her songs

winter and ningning, the cute maknaes of the group who are obsessed and perverted when it comes to their beloved unnie 🥺 winter shamelessly staring at your ass while ningning has her gaze fixed on your tits, both exchanging a knowing look and talking mentally to decide if what they have is a good idea or not…

getting on your knees and jerking off both of their cocks at the same time, enjoying how sensitive and loud your sweet members get from having this kind of attention on them 😵‍💫 winter grabbing her cock with one hand, guiding the head against your lips and moaning as you take her entire length into your mouth without even choking or gagging 😳 of course ningning takes advantage of this to guide both of your hands to her cock, giving you a needy look and begging you to give her the same treatment you’re giving winter :( and of course you do! sucking winter’s cock at the same time as your hands go up and down as you jerk off ningning, both of them moving their hips towards you in search of more

and they’re so messy when cumming 😣 winter pulling out of your mouth, jerking off her cock in her fist at the same speed you were doing with ningning’s cock, trying to match your movements but whining and crying because it was a very fast speed and she was so overstimulated and sensitive that she could barely take it without giving in right there :( but winter is grateful when she feels your hand wrap around her cock and replace her own, now jerking off both girls at the same time and encouraging them to cum on your face, and they do! their cocks twitching in your hands, shooting heavy loads of cum straight into your mouth, looking at you in amazement when you swallow everything because those two always make a mess and cum in torrents!

being penetrated with both at the same time, riding ningning’s cock while winter is kneeling behind you and fucking your ass, enjoying the way your ass bounces every time her hips hits against it 🥴 hissing as she places her hands on your hips and fucks her cock into your ass at an even faster speed making you drip even more on ningning’s cock, earning a moan from her and making ningning finally start moving her hips up to fuck you from below

and both are two subs so whiny and needy 🥺 whimpering and babbling pleas or incoherent things, moaning “unnie” in every sentence that came out of their lips, and you loved that! always having a thing for the way they said “unnie”, maybe it was because of how soft and sweet their voices were and how that word sounded so adorable coming from them

both cumming inside you, desperate to fill you with their seed 😣 they would make you open your own cheeks for them, enjoying how the cum of both drips from your holes and runs down your thighs slowly, feeling their cocks start to harden again…

[madebysae]

Work Out | K. Saebyeok pt. 1

♡ pairing: 𝘴𝘢𝘦𝘣𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘬 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

♡ genre: 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

♡ warning(s): 𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨

♡ summary: 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘺𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘮, 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘢 𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘵. 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴…

You stepped into the gym, taking in the crowd before walking over to your side of the court. You set your bag down and adjusted your knee pads, then took one last sip of water.

Minjee, one of your closest friends and the best setter on the team, jogged over with a grin. “Finally! I was beginning to think you’d never show up.”

“Me? Not show up to a home game?” you laughed, nudging her shoulder as the other third of your trio, Yoona, ran over.

“Let’s just hope we don’t get absolutely demolished in the first set,” Yoona sighed, “Last game was a disaster.”

Minjee snickered as she reached for a volleyball, tossing it between her hands. “We all know that the only reason we lost was because Y/N decided to get sick the literal day before the game. But we have her now, so we’ll be just fine and dandy! We should probably warm up now though, before Coach gets on our ass about it.”

The three of you joked around and laughed together as you did the usual drills. The nervousness that had been consuming all of you just minutes before were nowhere to be found now, and you let yourself just enjoy the moment without worrying about the game too much.

Then, of course, Eunji had to come over.

“Oh wow. Y/N actually decided to show up? I must be dreaming.” she crossed her arms and gave you an overly exaggerated once-over.

Minjee looked at her incredulously, “You cannot be fucking serious right now. It was one game!! One! Game! Why the hell are you acting like she ditched half the season? She was sick you dumb shit. What, you wanted her to puke all over your shoes?”

Yoona tried in vain to cover up her laugh with a cough, and Eunji rolled her eyes as she walked back to her friends.

You shook your head. “She’s exhausting.”

“Tell me about it,” Minjee huffed. “Last game, literally got, like, 30 seconds max of playing time and she still thinks she’s all that.”

Yoona laughed, “Yeah, she isn’t exaggerating. She literally got subbed out right after the first point and never got subbed back in.”

Just then, you heard your coach calling everyone in for a quick pre-game meeting. All conversation died down as you listened to her last-minute words of encouragement.

The score was currently tied at match point, and the crowd was on the edge of their seat as the ball soared above the net into your team’s court.

You set your stance, never taking your eyes off the ball. Minjee’s fingers barely grazed the ball as she flicked it into the perfect position, just where you needed it. Without hesitation, you leaped and hit the ball with every last bit of energy you had left.

It sailed at a breakneck speed through the air, and everything seemed to go in slow motion. Their libero dove for the ball, desperate to save it. But it was no use. The ball slammed into the floor just a few inches from her fingertips and bounced off into the sidelines.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, the gym simultaneously erupted into a mixture of cheers and defeated groans.

You turned just in time to see Minjee charging at you full-speed, then she tackled you into a tight hug.

“Y/N! You did it!” she shrieked loudly, letting go of you almost as quick as she’d grabbed you.

Yoona took your hands in hers, jumping up and down. “That was insane! Best spike of the season!”

You high-fived everyone, the adrenaline still pumping through your veins.

Finally, there was enough room for you to walk towards your coach, who was grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Congratulations, Y/N! You played your heart out tonight,” she said. “That was some of the best I’ve seen from you all season.”

You could still barely catch your breath, but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips.

“You sure impressed the hell outta me…” a sly, knowing smile flashed across her face, “…and that scout over there, too.”

“Wait, what?” You blinked. A scout? No one told you there was gonna be a scout. “There’s a scout here?”

Your coach pointed towards one of the bleachers. You followed her gaze and froze.

It was obvious she was a scout.

Black hat. Clipboard. Jacket with some team logo you couldn’t quite make out from where you were standing.

Then, you blinked in recognition.

No way.

This wasn’t just any scout. This was Kang Saebyeok, one of the most well-known scouts for the national volleyball team. Everyone who knew anything about college volleyball knew her. She was known for being insanely picky, only considering the absolute best of the best of the best of the best. Of the best. And, as the rumor went, it was practically impossible to impress her. Even Kim Soyoung, who graduated last year with 4 MVP awards under her belt, failed to catch her eye.

Your pulse quickened as she approached you. You could feel your palms getting sweaty, and tried to discreetly wipe them on your shorts.

“Nice work,” Saebyeok said, her voice low and husky. She didn’t seem overly impressed, but she didn’t seem uninterested or disappointed in your performance, just… neutral. But she still made your heart race.

“I—Thank you,” you stammered, blinking rapidly as your mind tried to catch up with reality.

“You’ve got a good foundation. I’ll give you that.” she replied matter-of-factly.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. This can’t be real. This can’t be real. This can’t-

“You’ve got some potential,” Saebyeok continued, “But you’re going to need months of one-on-one training if you even want to be considered for the national team.”

You couldn’t believe it. Before you could form a coherent sentence, she added, “I’d like to see more of what you can do. I’ll be looking forward to your next game.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. Oh. My. Gosh. She actually might be considering me for the national team. But then, the anxiety began to creep in—What if I mess up next game? What if she comes and watches me on one of my bad days??

“Keep working hard,” Saebyeok said, interrupting your thoughts. “Don’t let this conversation get to your head.” Then, she turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Your mind spun, the reality of the moment barely sinking in when Minjee grabbed your shoulders, shaking you with giddy excitement.

“Oh my gosh, Y/N! Was that really her? You just got noticed by the Kang Saebyeok!”

“I think… I think she might be considering me for the national team,” you murmured, still stunned.

“Heck yeah!” Yoona cheered. “We’re gonna have one of our very own players on the national team! Make sure you remember me when you get all rich and famous!”

Minjee and Yoona pulled you into a group hug, and you sighed in awestruck disbelief.

𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 <𝟯

@saebyeokbliss @we1rdth0ughts

(𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙙!)

[cherubcameron]

Igual Que Un Angel

Chapter Six

Synopsis: Sofia is pregnant, and the last thing she needs is for Rafe to find out. It’s her dirty secret, it’s not like he’s barging down her door to speak to her. He looks as if he’s done with her for good. Will outside forces, force Sofia to confront the situation at hand. Or will she be able to keep this secret up? Not like, her belly isn’t growing everyday or anything.

MASTERLIST

Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

Two Weeks Later

“¿Entonces no salió bien?”(So it didn’t go well?) Lupita asks, Sofia puffed out a breath.

“No, fue terrible.” (No, it went terribly) Lupita tsks, Sofia sets her camera up on her pillow. She has a bowl of ice cream, she digs her spoon into it. Plopping some into her mouth. She meets her cousin eyes through the screen.

“Con tu mamá y tu papá? O con Rafe?” Lupita says, she begins to set her phone down too. It looks like to Sofia she’s doing her makeup.

“Los dos. ¿Estás maquillándote?” (The both of them. Are you doing your makeup?)

“Si, voy a salir.” (Yes, I’m going out.)

“Te ves linda.” Sofia smiles, admiring the way her cousin is applying her makeup. She has pink blush on her cheeks, her skin through the screen looks radiant.

“Gracias, prima.” Lupita scrunches up her face together as she smiles. Sofia letting out a little laugh. Eating more of her ice cream.

For a few minutes, silence overtakes them. But it isn’t awkward. Nor there is no need to break it. It’s a comfortable silence, she’d often had with her cousin.

“Tengo miedo, no conoces a Rafe, él puede enfadarse.” (Im scared, you don’t know Rafe. He can get angry.) Sofia finally says, her eyes going from her ice cream back to her cousin.

Lupita pursed her lips, she looked as if her mind was elsewhere. “He didn’t, hurt you right?” She asks hesitantly. Sofia quickly shakes her head.

“No, no, nothing like that.” Sofia pauses, “Well, not physically. It was some things he said. In the past. It’s a long story. Essentially he made it seem like we weren’t serious.” Sofia rubs her belly, noticing how slightly bigger her stomach has gotten since the last time she’d spoken to Lupe.

“Oh shit, so you broke up with him?” Lupita eyes are wide, Sofia regards her with a sheepish smile.

“He broke up with me.” Sofia says awkwardly, Lupita continues to do her brows, Sofia isn’t sure what she’s going to say. But she can gradually feel her cheeks grow warmer.

“I’m sorry Sofia.” Her cousin attentionis finally fully on her. “It can’t be easy, especially with the baby on the way.”

“That’s why I don’t know if I should tell him. What if it just makes him hate me even more?” Sofia scratches her head, her eyes staring at her cousins through the screen. Willing her to have a solution for her problem.

“You can’t exactly hide it forever. I know I’ve said that a thousand of times. But Sofia, you’re about to be four months pregnant. You need to make a decision quickly. And honestly Sof, you’re showing a lot more than you were.”

Sarah rubbed her belly, she was due very soon. Her body almost slumped onto the couch. Rafe stared at her, his nose crinkling.

“You look uncomfortable.”

“You would be too. If you had a baby in you who’s pressing onto your bladder.”

“Uh, right, that kind of reminds me.” Rafe gets up, leaving the room briefly. He re-enters with a pretty big box. Sarah raises an eyebrow in question and Rafe gives her a tight lip smile.

“It’s a pregnancy pillow.”

Sarah blinks in surprise, Rafe lays it down next to her. “Don’t—”

Sarah eyes begin to tear up, “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever done for me.” Rafe rolls his eyes, Sarah wipes away at her eyes. “I mean it Rafe. Thank you, you didn’t have to give John B and I a place to stay. And you did.”

Rafe rubbed his brow, “Uh yeah, don’t mention it.” Sarah gets up slowly, her hand still on her round belly. She reaches out and pulls Rafe into a hug.

“Umph—” Rafe eyes widen, his hands spread out but not hugging her back yet. He stood there awkwardly, his body tensed. Until, he finally loosened up, hugging her back.

“Still not used to this, huh?” Sarah laughs, she pulls away. “You’re not always an asshole, ya know.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He pats her gently on the back, shaking his head.

“Weird thing to ask but; John B has work until six. And I have no one to come with me to my ultrasound at four.”

“And you need someone to go with you?” He says, rubbing his eyebrow once more.

“I mean Wheezie hates waiting rooms. Plus we still have that whole custody battle with Rose.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll go. Just don’t expect me to enjoy myself. Okay.”

Sofia observed the fluorescent lights, tapping her leg as she waited her turn at the doctors.. Another one of the ultrasounds she had to do. She already had finished the check up, she’d arrived around 1, usually the doctor took long. So she’d been here for over an hour after the check up. She finally leveled her head back to the rest of the room. As a woman and a man, sat together, the man rubbing her belly as he smiled at her. They spoke amicably to themselves, almost in a world of their own. Sofia felt a pang in her chest, she looked away quickly. What she would give to not be so alone in this.

Her eyes move towards another couple, two women. One of them had their head on the others shoulder. One of them very pregnant.

“Sofia Jimenez!” One of the nurses, in pink scrubs calls out. She has a clipboard in her hands, a small gentle smile on her face. Sofia raises to her feet, heading towards the door the nurse was holding open with her leg.

“That’s me.” Sofia says softly, the nurse smiles at her, motioning for Sofia to follow her. Sofia does, they head down a wide hallway, filled with rooms. Some empty and still not in use. Others have the door shut closed. The nurse finally stops at a room at the end of the hall. Letting Sofia walk in first.

“The doctor will be right with you.”

Rafe held out his arm, helping Sarah out of his bmw. “You got it?”

“Yeah I got it.” Sarah says, holding his hand as she steps out of his car. She sighs, “Thanks.”

“No worries, come on. This starts at like… four, right?”

“Yeah, at four. But I like to get here early. They do check ups first and it can take hours before the actual doctor sees you.” Rafe helps Sarah as she walks alongside him. He nods as he listens, he looks out towards the clinic.

“You and John B have— everything you need right?” Rafe says it, almost hesitantly. He wasn’t the type to pry in Sarah’s life. Well, before it started involving him with the gold and the cross. Before that, he didn’t care much about involving himself.

“Yeah we’re good. I mean with the money we’ve have from the blue crown. And the fact that we have the Royal Merchant gold. We’re set, it’s just John B and I. I think we just realize we want a simple life.”

Rafe purses his lips, somehow, he’s surprised to realize that resonates with him more than he’d ever thought. All this chasing for gold, it was what his dad wanted. His whole life, he wanted to do what made him proud.

And now… he wasn’t sure if he wanted the same things his old man did.

Sofia sat on the examination bed, lying down slowly. The doctor Dr. Reynolds greets her warmly. Her heart quickens, today she finds out the gender of her baby. She’s not sure what to feel, it feels foreign. But nevertheless, she’s happy. Happy that she finally gets to see her little baby.

“Hey, it’s me. Your mom. I hope you’re doing okay in there. Please don’t give me a scare.” She says softly to her baby in her stomach. She rubs her belly gently.

Someone knocks on the door, Sofia attention is reverted away from her belly bump towards who’s at the door.

“Hi Sofia,” The doctor pauses to look at her clipboard, scanning the information on it, “Sofia Jimenez, right?”

“Yes, thats me.” Dr. Reynolds smiles warmly, shutting the door behind her.

“Good, good.” She heads over to the monitor. “Well, it’s good to see you. It looks like from your chart that you’re in good health. Which is amazing. We’re going to check the baby, hear their heartbeat. And finally, find out the gender of the baby.”

Sarah plops herself back down next to Rafe; as she comes back from the check up.

“I’m all healthy.”

“Really?” Rafe feigns shock, “Because the 17 bags of lays you make John B buy; says otherwise.” Sarah playfully slaps his arm. He lets out a chuckle.

Rafe scratches his head, looking around at the other patients in the waiting room. His eyes landing on a woman by herself. She looks anxious, constantly biting her lip. Her leg tapping rapidly against the linoleum floor. Rafe couldn’t help but feel bad for her. He couldn’t imagine going through something like this alone. How scary it must feel. He wonders where the father of the baby is. The girl looked so—

“Pass me my bag. I recently got into reading and—” Sarah pauses. “Nevermind, you wouldn’t care.”

Rafe passes Sarah her bag, “Come on, Sar. Just tell me.”

“Oh, uh I just bought myself a kindle. That’s all.” Sarah says, her cheeks red, her gaze averted from him. She began to fidget with her kindle, tapping against the screen.

“You don’t have to make it so—”

“Sarah Cameron!” Sarah turns in surprise but gets up nevertheless. Rafe helps her, getting up with her.

“You want me to come or—”

“Yeah, I don’t mind. You’ll get to see your nephew.” Rafe follows behind Sarah as the nurse leads her into the examination room. Their lead to the left wing of the office, his eyes move towards the right. His brows furrow but he continues walking. He continues to follow Sarah and the nurse, they speak amicably among themselves.

Rafe puffs out his lips, turning his head back. He has this gnawing feeling but he ignores it. He was never the kind of person to like being at the doctors. But..

“Right in here, the doctor will be with you shortly.”

The doctor places the cool gel onto Sofias stomach, she laughs at the way it feels on her belly. Even after a few of these sessions, she still can’t get over the cold feeling.

Dr. Reynolds smiles at her, moving the transducer across Sofias stomach. Then she heard it. Her babies heart beat. No matter how many times she’s heard it, it’s a sound that could never get old for her.

“Everything is looking good. No issues. We already checked the size of the baby. They seem pretty good from head to toe.” Dr.Reynolds smiles, continuing moving the transducer across Sofias belly. “The heart beat sounds normal. The level of amniotic fluid is normal as well. Not too much and not too little. Do you want to know the gender of the baby? Or would you rather wait until they’re born.”

Sofia nods, “I’ll like to know. Thank you.” Dr. Reynolds moves the transducer lower on her stomach. Pressing enough for the computer to pick up the baby.

“Hmm.” Dr. Reynolds looked deep in thought, Sofia couldn’t help but feel her heartbeat race. A part of her wanted to wait until she gave birth to know the gender of the baby. But the more anxious side of her; wanted to know immediately. She let out a deep breath, staring at the computer.

“So when the baby is a girl, we look for what we like to call the hamburger sign. The labia lips tend to look like a hamburger bun. For the boy, we would consider this to be the turtle sign. Since it peeks out. We also look for the sagittal sign. There’s a nub on the end of the spine. That’s also another way we can indicate if it’s a boy or if it’s a girl. We call it the caudal notch. When it’s a boy, it’s upwards. And when it’s a girl it’s downturned.” Sofia nods, taking all the information in.

“The hamburger sign is present here. And the caudal notch is downturned.”

Sofia can’t help the tears that prick her eyes. Her heart clenches, “It’s a baby girl?”

Dr. Reynolds regards Sofia with a warm smile. “Yes it’s a girl.”

Sarah smiles as Rafe sees his baby nephew in real time. His eyes are glassy. He can’t help but feel almost proud. No, he is proud. He never realized how big the baby was now. The doctor Dr.Thompson, moves the transducer with ease. Pressing down, as he does so.

“A very healthy baby boy. This is your second to last check up. How are you feeling, Ms. Cameron.”

Sarah turns her eyes towards Dr. Thompson, “I can’t wait to see him. I’ve been waiting so long now.”

Dr. Thompson nods, the baby’s heartbeat in the background.

“Very strong heart, by the way. Strongest I’ve heard.” Sarah turns to smile brightly at Rafe, he can’t help but return it. His eyes returning to the computer, his mind briefly wanders. He knows Sarah would be an amazing mother. Seen her caretaking ways—but he—he’s not sure if he’ll ever be a good father. Maybe it was too late. Maybe he was already too messed up.

“Everything seems to be good. I’ll be back with the paperwork so you can be discharged.”

Sofia signed the papers the nurse handed her, she clicked the pen closed. Handing it back, the nurse smiles. “I’ll see what appointments Dr. Reynolds has opened. Give me a second.” As the nurse clicks away at the computer, Sofias mind wanders. Her eyes scanning the room. Would it be so bad if Rafe knew he was going to be a father?

“Okay, I have Sunday in the afternoon. Around 3pm. Or Monday morning at 12. This is for next month. The beginning of November.” She looks up at Sofia expectantly.

“Uh, let me check.” Sofia takes out her phone, looking at her calendar. She knew she was going to go on maternity leave soon enough. She’d spoken to Phil, he’d cleared it for her. Sundays were usually the days she spend with her mom, sisters and grandma.

“Monday works.” Sofia smiles. The nurse smiles, putting that into the system. Then handing Sofia an appointment card.

“If you need anything, you find some kind of trouble. You can always come earlier than that. But for now, November 3rd is your day of appointment.”

“Thank you so much.” The nurse nods, smiling.

“Have a lovely day.”

“You too.” Sofia walks away, heading towards the elevator. Pressing the button.

Rafe helps Sarah up as they make their exit. They walk back down the wide hallway, Sarah’s hand over her belly.

“We’re naming the baby JJ.” She says it, softly. Rafe continues to walk alongside of her.

“I bet JJ would have really loved that.” Sarah looks at him, her eyes pricking with tears. Rafe and JJ had always hated each other. There was never a time Rafe would have thought, he wouldn’t have had animosity against him. But now, now that he’s gone. He can’t hate him anymore. He just understands.

“Thank you.” Sarah croaks. “I know—I know you hated him. But—you don’t know what that means to me. So thank you.” She grabs his hand, squeezing it. “And—thank you for trying. Trying to be better. I promise, Wheez and I can see a difference.”

The elevator chimes, Sofia steps in. Pressing the number 1 so she can head home. She looks down at her phone, she was so excited to take pictures later with the sonograms that the doctor had given her.

Sarah opens the door to the waiting room once more. The elevator doors closing shut as she steps out. She heads towards the nurse at the counter. “Booking your last appointment Ms. Cameron?” Rafe stands awkwardly to the side, his hands in his pockets.

“Yes, last one before I pop.” She lets out a chuckle as the nurse chuckles alongside her.

Sofia enters her car, she was still allowed to drive. She looks down once more at her belly.

“Hey baby girl. Mommy is so happy to know you’re a girl. No matter what though, boy or girl. I’ll still love you all the same.” She lets her car heat up a bit before peeling out of the parking lot.

The sliding doors of the doctors opens, Rafe and Sarah walk towards his car. He helps her back into the passenger seat.

“So, any more errands?” He asks, but he doesn’t sound annoyed. He realizes in the past, he would have been. If they lived in a world, where Ward Cameron was still alive. He wasn’t sure he would be doing this. Nor, he knows they’re would be a baby in Sarah’s stomach.

“No, we’re good. Unless you have any errands to run.”

“Nah.”

“Okay, let’s head home. I’m tired.” Sarah puts her seatbelt back on. Rafe heads towards the driver seat, plopping himself inside, putting his own seatbelt on.

“Home it is.”

[fandomtherapy44]

Work Rivals Gojo Satoru x Fem! reader

Paring: Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader

Warnings: SMUT, language

Reblog Banner and 18+ Banner

and divider

cafekitsune

CW: 1,815

Summary: Y/n and Gojo have always been in competition fighting for who's the best. So what happens when an elevator breaks down and they are forced to face their real feelings?

Satoru Gojo, how do you describe someone who is a giant pain in my ass! My whole life I have been in consistent competition with him our whole life. It started in high school, where in each class and each test I felt like if he was just one point above me he would be laughing about it to everyone. I mean, I wouldn't know, I haven't really met him, but I knew if I was not on top, my family would think I was a failure. We both come from super old families that always expected that we were the best in everything from classes to who had the best lunch. I’m serious about the lunch thing in elementary school, our parents would send chefs to school and would make whatever we wanted.

And somehow he would always beat me, always one point ahead of me. It made me infuriated, also my parents breathing down my neck did not help. So when we finally got out of high school, I thought I could breathe and focus on myself, I was very wrong. First day Gojo had my job too. Every day got worse and worse to this little competition. Also, it wasn't great that my friend thought he was hot and would constantly talk about him.

“Y/n!” She ran after me as we went for coffee. “Did you see Gojo this morning, like oh my gosh, can he get even more perfect like I’m pretty sure he was wearing a Gucci shirt.” She sighed dreamily.

“Kai, what does it matter if it’s Gucchi or not?” I muttered while stirring my coffee in my cup. Trying to hold back my disdain.

“Um, how about the fact he’s rich too Y/n!” She shoved my shoulder in disbelief. 

“He’s not that great!” I raised my voice without meaning to everyone who looked at me.

“You talk about him like he’s the devil reincarnated but you've barely spoken to him.” Kai studied me with suspicion.

“Wait? Don’t tell me you guys used to date!?” My eyes widened at that.

“No! God No! It’s just that we went to school together.” I mumbled again.

“WHAT!” I spring up and cover her mouth and drag her into another room.

“Don’t scream that!” I swatted at her.

“Girl how could you keep that from me! That you went to school with Gojo Satoru!” 

“It’s not like we're friends we actually were in more of a rivalry then anything.” I crossed my arms looking down.

“Is that why you pretty much hate him?”

“I don’t hate him… It just annoys me how perfect he is.”

“Gotcha… well if that was me I would have hopped on that white-haired train a long time ago.” She moves her eyebrows up and down in a suggestive way.

“I know everyone would if they could.” Another thing that annoys me. 

Our elevator sucks we've told our boss like twenty times to get it fixed so you know we don’t die, but it’s still broken. I enter it sighing thinking about all the work I had to do and then I hear a voice yelling to hold the door.

“Wait, hold the door!” It was a smooth, low voice, the kind that would make any person pass out. And of course, it has to belong to fucking Gojo Satoru.

“Close close come on close!” I slammed on the button but the thing is broken so it’s slow as all hell.

“Thanks L/n.” He has a little pep in his step getting in the elevator. I roll my eyes and step to the side. I have to say he looks handsome today. A white button-up and black tailored pants. A silver Rolex on his wrist, pointing attention to his veiny-toned forearms. When he shifts, you can see his muscles bulge through the white fabric, making you want to see more. His leather briefcase scented with a light pine mixed with his cologne which was a Seawood and cinnamon musk. I hated how he could just be that handsome without even trying.

“So how is your project going?” He asks me to try to past the grueling three minutes.

“It’s fine Gojo,” I stated flatly.

“What you're not going to ask back?” 

“Why would I? I’m sure it’s going great for Gojo Satoru.” I scartiscally say huffing out my chest. 

“What’s with the attitude L/n?”

“I don’t know, Gojo, maybe it’s the fact that you don’t even have to try.”

“You don’t think I have to try!” He angrily expressed.

“Really you're playing the dumb card. Fine play it that way.” I couldn't believe him acting like he didn't know what I was talking about.

“I really don’t know what you're talking about!” He threw back. It seemed all my emotions of the last years had piled up and were being released like pompi.

“What about the fact that you have always won every competition, every test and now even at my job!” He lets the words sink in.

“You mean those stupid competitions that our parents put us in when we were kids!?”

“They were never stupid to me!” I’m practically in his face now. The anger in my veins pushing me forward.

“Oh my gosh L/n! Is that why you've always been so pissy towards me just because I've won all those things! When it’s not even my fault!” When he puts it like that, I look at my actions.

“Well, if you did-” I have to stop because the elevator stops abruptly, making me almost slam into Gojo, making him catch me.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure someone will come soon.” He tries to reassure me.

The small canvan of the elevator is now encased in a blue emergency light barely letting us each other. But I can’t even open my eyes, being terrified, if I did open them we would throw down the shaft. He notices my fear and grabs my hand.

“Hey Y/n we’re going to be okay.” With those words, I opened my eyes and did something that surprised both of us. I kiss him. I don’t know compled me do so the fear coursing through my body or maybe it was years of pent up sexual frustotion in one kiss. As soon as I realized I did I let go.

“Gojo, I’m so sorry. I-” I didn't get to finish before he pulled me right back and slammed his lips on mine. Our lips had found a groove that we didn't know we were missing. This second kiss was desperate, messy, unrealting as he lead me to hit the back mirror. Our hands clawing at each other’s bodies. When we finally let go in the blue hue I could see his lips puffy and red and mine were left with a sweet sting. In that moment, his hands go around my waist and his lips go for my neck this time.

“I've always wanted to do this with you,” he whispers in my ear, making shivers go down my spine.

BELOW

“Oh you little-” I’m shut up by him biting down on my neck. “Fuck Gojo!” I moaned out.

“That’s what I like to hear~” He purred out. Gojo licks over my hickie and makes a mess, he suckles at my neck. His tongue licks all over the sore spot. He keeps on nipping and tugging on the spot making my body junt out looking for some more relief. He lets go and my neck is left feeling the cold, I then feel his bulge through his pants on my knee. I pull him by the tie.

“Does pleasuring women turn you on, Gojo?” I tell him as I nip and lick his ear shell. He nods his head. “Then let me show you my appreciation.” I pull at his ear again and get down on my knees. I slowly pull down his pants zipper. 

“You don’t have to Y/n.” He breathed out.

“But I want to Gojo.” I can see through his briefs that his cock was already leaking pre cum. And his bulge was taking up a lot of space of the outline. I reach up and pull his briefs down his cock pop’s up. It is the biggest I have ever seen, it’s about seven inches and his head is red and puffy, ready to be squeezed. I lick my hand and start pumping it. As I touch it, it instantly gets harder.

“You're so big Gojo don’t know how I’m going to fit this.” At that I put my mouth around it. 

“Ahh shit Y/n you feel so good.” he throw his hand to the wall to steady himself. His cock pusles around my tongue. My tongue makes rings around it. I can feel veins and his taste is delicious, it was sweet and salty. Like a chocolate crossient that would melt on your tongue. I start to deep throat and he can barely stand it. It doesn’t fully fit in my mouth so I have to use my hand to ring the rest. He then grabs my hair and starts to fuck in. He starts to go faster and faster. “I’m going to cum!” He let’s go. His cock flops out. “That was… fucking amazing Y/n.” That sent confidene all through my body.

“Thank you now are you going to fuck me with that monster or not.” He smirks and lifts me up my legs wrap his waist. 

“Of course I will I got to fuck the attiude out of you don’t I?” There’s the cocky asshole I like. HE goes to kiss me again. Our teeth mashing together. His hand travels down under my pencil skirt and rips my fishnet tights at my crotch. I am soaked.

“All this is for me huh?” He slid my panties to the side and line’s uo his cock. “I’m going to go in okay?” I nod and he steadily sinks in. Just at that I felt so full. “You feel so tight, Y/n so good let me know when I can move in.” I barely hear anything because I am so distracted by this feeling.

“You can move kay.” I get out somehow and he starts slowly thrusting up. I put my arms around his neck. His cock get’s comfortablpe and thicker. His hip’s mett mine with each thrust. His balls slapping against my pussy. It goes in circles, drawing more and more out of me. 

“How is it, Sweetness?” 

“So good toru~” I moan out. He then add’s a finger to my clit to really drive it home. “FUck!” My wetness is now gushing like a waterfall.

“That’s my girl almost there right?” 

“Yes!” He pumps a couple more time’s and my pussy squzze’s and we an sexual explosion we cum together. I guess Gojo Satoru isn’t too bad.

I also have another Gojo smut fic if you like! Valentine's Day

[mossangelll]

is that hyperpigmentation?

arcane characters x reader

basically what the title says, you draw the arcane characters à la hyperpigmentation 😍 i needed smth silly to work on to get me out of my writing rut, hope you enjoy :p

content: gn!reader, reader is their partner (could be seen as platonic/child reader but i think most of, if not all, the hcs allude or explicitly call reader their partner - sorry!)

Jinx

she LOVES it

as an artist, engineer, overall creator she can really appreciate the more wacky expressions of art

she does a whole art critique (barely a critique tbh) and pretends to be some stuffy piltie talking about the genius and emotion behind the artwork

“ya know, toots, i’m reaaallyyyy enjoying what ya did with that…um, splodge? on my face there. yeah!”

she draws her own version but this time it’s a portrait of you

you swap them and have a cute little date where you colour the pictures in together and add details in the background

by the end, jinx’s workshop is covered in glue and glitter and paint and powder and also for some reason silly string

jinx even makes frames from scratch so they can be hung up - they’re probably the most nicely presentee decoration she has in her place

Ekko

you slide the portrait of him over to his side of the table in silence

he looks down absently and has to do a double take

“this is…me?” he asks hesitantly with his eyes widened like a deer in headlights; a look you rarely ever see from him - you nod and confirm his fears

“we have one tree down here. paper’s expensive. remember that.”

walks away and goes about his duties helping the firelights and though you suspect he might be upset, he did take the picture with him

feels so guilty about his reaction he almost sacks himself into a wall as he rides his hover board

later that night he apologises and makes a show of sticking the picture on his bedroom wall (in the corner he can barely see of course)

Vi

she’s been in prison and seen some interesting tattoos but this takes the cake

spends a good ten minutes staring at it whilst rubbing her chin as if that’s gonna make it look better

asks you if this was the rough draft

she’s smooth though so she basically tells you she hates it but in a way that you don’t even realise - you’re too busy being seduced to notice

“i love how wild your imagination is babe 😍”

vi keeps the picture and shows jinx; needless to say, this portrait becomes famous

kids all through the lanes have a challenge where they find all the weird faces jinx spray painted everywhere

vi pretends to act dumb as if she doesn’t know how jinx got ahold of them but you both know what happened LMAO

Caitlyn

she laughs in your face

she probably just had an argument with her mum over being an enforcer so she really needed this to lighten her spirits

teases you over it but accepts it gracefully because she’s a kiramman and those manners have been engrained into her

keeps it in her room as a joke and everything’s seemingly ok

except she can’t stop looking at it

and then looking at her reflection in the mirror

starts to question reality because she knows there’s no way she looks like that but if so, why would you draw it in the first place 😭

then she enters the mad stage and she confronts you about this thing called negging she discovered

it’s a loooooong night but don’t worry it ends in lots of laughter and giggles

she understands it wasn’t serious and was just projecting her stress onto the picture

but then this starts a new tradition where you two draw daily doodles of each other; sometimes with stupid faces, other times as animals, whatever you two are feeling really

Mel

the woman was too stunned to speak

no, she’s literally speechless for a good minute or two as you hold it out for her

she eventually takes the portrait from your hands but does it in a way where you’d think it was going to explode the second she touches it

she tries her best to smile and be graceful about it, years of etiquette training being tested but even this is a bit excessive

she finds a way to dodge actually having to tell you it looks bad but also dodges telling you that it looks good too - she’s a lot of things but she’s not a liar 😭

she’s incredibly diplomatic

the very next day she’s introducing you to an absolutely fabulous painter who just happened to make an impromptu visit but has just enough time to run a session (or multiple) with you!

how serendipitous is this!

never again will she receive a portrait from you like hyperpigmentation

Jayce

“oh wow this is for me?”

you handed this to him in the busy academy building in front of SOOO many people and now his face is red

his teeth are gritted, hand rubbing the back of his neck and if you look closely there’s even beads of sweat dripping down his forehead

you’ve got this man stressed out

takes like 20 minutes trying to tell you that he’s not too sure if this is exactly his style

internally he’s crying for help because he just wants to get out of this situation

he loves you don’t get it wrong but this has never happened to him before and it’s not like they’ve got a guidebook on this stuff

eventually admits defeat and accepts the portrait

it’s probably in the break room and although he isn’t particularly fond of it, he won’t stand for anyone saying mean things about what you made

that is until you tell him it was all a joke in the first place and you never thought he would actually accept it considering how shitty it was

yeah, he allowed everyone a ten minute free for all where they could slander the picture after that

he is gonna give you silent treatment for all of an hour before he can’t stand it anymore and he asks you not to pull pranks like that on him again with tears in his eyes 😭

Viktor

viktor is chronically ill AND chronically overworked

gonna be real, he sees the portrait and doesn’t even think anything of it

like, he’s so sleep deprived that he’s constantly squinting and so to him, it low-key looks like him

you even got his beauty mark right too! most people forget that detail!

it’s only after a good few weeks of having the picture on his bedside table and actually, finally, getting eight hours of sleep that he properly looks at the picture and

who the fuck is that

but at this point it’s too late, it’s already in a frame next to the bed you two share and there’s no way he can discretely get rid of it without you noticing

stages an accident where his cane “accidentally” happens to slip and somehow punt the picture frame right out the window with surprising accuracy

he gives you those puppy dog eyes and tells you how sad he is but that he’ll survive so don’t worry!

can’t even feel guilty about the situation because the moment the portrait is gone he stops having nightmares

Silco

another one who is speechless

if you were anyone else, he would’ve berated you so badly you would want to quit by the end of it

unfortunately you’re someone he loves so he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place

the thing is, he really does appreciate that you went through the effort of drawing a picture of him since it reminds him that perhaps his love isn’t as one-sided as he fears

so he really does want to have it framed and put up on his desk so he can stare at it whenever he misses you

the problem is that even though one of his eyes is fucked up he can still see how butt ugly the drawing is

plus the fact that if he has meetings his business associates are gonna see it and that’s gonna be a tough one to explain

rather not lose out of business because his partner decided to be picasso for a day

silco ends up compromising by having you draw a teeny tiny version he keeps in his wallet instead :3

the bigger version stays in a locked compartment of his desk drawer, he doesn’t want to risk sevika seeing it

Vander

vander does NOT care what it looks like, he loves it

you could literally scribble on a page, say “that’s you” and he’s tearing up at your thoughtfulness

it’s going on the fridge asap and it’s staying there too

he’s gonna show it to everyone with such pride in his voice

sure, he doesn’t know exactly what he’s looking at and maybe you drew his body hair a bit liberally but you made it so that’s good enough for him!

when he shows it off, most people say aww what a cute werewolf and ask how old his kid is

the light leaves their eyes when he tells them, chest puffed out, that his fully grown adult partner did it and that it’s actually a portrait of him

whether you made it as a joke or not, expect all of your friends, your friend’s friends, those friend’s friend’s friends…everyone to have seen it

Sevika

sevika tells you it’s ugly straight away <\3

rolls her eyes as she listens to you explain all the reasons why she should like the drawing

she does nawt care

wants to act unbothered but deep down she’s a bit insulted

however she doesn’t like sein you upset so she kisses you to distract you from the fact she hates the drawing

sevika is an incredibly considerate partner so now she knows you like art, she takes it upon herself to buy colouring books and art journals that you two can fill out together

this is how you find out she’s a god at drawing and you find it sweet how she takes you under her wing

if something’s bad she’ll tell you but it will always be constructive criticism and before you know it your portraits actually look decent

she’s smug knowing she helped you get to that point

little do you know she kept your abhorrent portrait of her and she looks at it every so often to see how far you’ve come

she’s a softie deep down

AU!mylo

he says he likes it but that’s just because he wants to hit

also is a bit pretentious so you could hand him a really bad painting and he’ll try and act like he “gets it” even if there’s nothing to get 😭

this WILL make him doubt his looks constantly

he’s confident for sure, more than he should be at times, but now he’s got that image in the back of his head

aura down and now he’s even WORSE at flirting god save this man

will go around asking random people if he looks like the guy in the portrait because he’s not going down without a fight

he needs to beat the allegations one way or another‼️

AU!claggor

genuinely too nice to decline it or say it looks bad

doesn’t know what exactly it’s meant to be even though you already said it’s a portrait of him

too focused on his plants to worry about it too much, it’s just something that makes him chuckle every now and then

he will conduct a mini interview on why you made it look the way it did

he looks all serious as he nods at your answers

deep down he just wants to understand how your brain works

masterlist

[bouncypickle]

here's a Roach drabble AU where he joins tf 141

Cockroaches are basically indestructible. They can eat anything, live through some serious radiation, and even survive getting their heads chopped off! Cockroaches are cool even if some people think they’re pests.

Gary doesn’t mind being Roach. His team gave him that moniker after surviving a grenade being thrown at his helmet. It bounced off and blew up the building he was in which then collapsed on top of him. Gary came crawling out of the rubble like a cockroach, alive and unharmed. He’d had a few close calls before so the guys in his squad coined him Roach–an indestructible little fucker, they’d said.

Sometimes, Gary wonders if that’s the only reason his squad decided on that name. Gary is the perpetual weird one, the freak, the guy who always says too much. So he feels like a pest sometimes too.

Ever since he was a kid, Gary has learned to stay quiet and keep to himself. He wears his helmet and balaclava and goggles–to keep his expressive face hidden–and lets himself be a mystery to his squadmates. They don’t ever care about him enough to ask Gary about himself though. So maybe Gary is less of a mystery and more of a background character.

It doesn’t matter anyway because Gary gets passed from team to team, completing missions with one team only to be transferred to a different team in need of more bodies. Gary is basically target practice for the enemy, an extra hand to hold a gun, another nameless G.I. Joe to be killed for his country.

Then Gary is transferred to Task Force 141 to serve under Captain John Price. The squad he’s to join is small with a focus on infiltration. Not usually Gary’s type of assignment. More often than not, Gary is put in front of a bunch of people with guns and told to shoot. This new team might be a refreshing change, honestly.

Gary is surprised to be greeted upon landing on the new base. His welcoming party actually looks welcoming. Usually, Gary is greeted by a grunt or two who bitterly show him the mess, the dorms, the gym and then leave him alone. This evening, two men who are clearly not recruits are waiting for him.

Gary has to do a double take, making sure some admiral isn’t landing instead of him. But the men approach and greet him with kindness.

“Sergeant Gary Sanderson, welcome. I’m Sergeant Kyle Garrick but you can call me Gaz.”

Gaz extends a hand in greeting and Gary shakes it eagerly. Then the other man reaches out and Gary shakes his hand too.

“Aye, welcome. Yer a bit shorter than I was expecting. Ghost made ya sound like a bleedin’ tank but that's alright. We short kings stick together, aye? Name's John MacTavish, call sign Soap.”

Gary has no idea what Soap is talking about but he nods anyway. Better to just agree than ask all the annoying questions on his mind. Like: Who is Ghost? Why are you two greeting me instead of some recruit? Don't you know to call me Roach? Do you like bugs?

Gary frowns at himself under his balaclava. Of course they don't like bugs; no one in their right mind likes bugs.

“Ghost really did talk you up though, mate. We're expecting to see some moves out of you.”

Gary just nods again.

Soap folds his arms, frowning, “Not much of a talker are ye? No wonder Ghost likes ye so much.”

Gaz elbows Soap playfully, “Jealousy is a bad look on you, mate.”

“Roach,” Gary pipes in, unsure whether or not he should interrupt but wanting to get his introduction out of the way, “That's what everyone calls me.”

“Cause of yer helmet?” Soap asks, flicking one of the radio antennas on Gary's helmet.

Gary ducks away from the teasing a bit.

“I'm an indestructible little fucker.”

The other two men burst out laughing. Gary hopes they're laughing with him, not at him. Well, he's not laughing. Anyway, he tries not to read into it too much. People laugh all the time, Gary doesn't always have to get the joke.

“Oh, Simon was right about you,” Soap tells him and suddenly Gary knows who Ghost is.

Only Gary didn't know him as Ghost, he knew him as Simon Riley. Si, actually. Si was his only friend back in the day. He liked Gary, actually listened when he talked about annoying shit like bugs.

What do you call an anxious bug?

A nervous tick.

Si used to make jokes like that over the radio. Then one day Si went MIA and Gary was transferred to another squad and he never heard from or about the man again. He knows this Ghost must be Simon Riley because no one else is weird enough to actually enjoy Gary's company.

[omiomi]

Master list

Part 6

Code Red: Unfinished Sutures (Part 7)

Baek Kang-Hyuk x Fem!Reader

The first thing Y/N felt was warmth. A slow, steady heat pressed against her skin, traveling through her veins like a quiet reminder that she was still alive.

The second thing she felt was pain. Dull and heavy, curling in her chest with every breath she took.

The third was him.

Baek Kang-Hyuk was slumped forward in a chair beside her, head bowed, his hand wrapped around hers like a lifeline. His grip was strong—almost too tight—but she didn’t mind. It grounded her.

She tried to speak, but her throat was too dry. She swallowed and tried again. “Malak…”

His head shot up so fast she thought he might have hurt himself. Bloodshot eyes met hers, filled with exhaustion, relief, and something deeper—something raw and unguarded.

“Y/N,” he breathed. His voice cracked.

She managed a weak smile. “Did you… cry?”

Baek exhaled sharply, a sound caught between a laugh and a scoff. He rubbed a hand over his face. “You almost died, and that’s the first thing you say?”

Her fingers twitched in his grasp. “Did I?”

His jaw tightened. “You were gone for a moment. You lost so much blood—” He stopped himself, exhaling shakily. “I had to transfuse mine while operating. If you had—”

He broke off.

Y/N’s chest ached, but not from her injuries. She had seen Baek serious before, even afraid, but never like this. Never like he was standing on the edge of something he couldn’t bear to lose.

“You saved me,” she murmured.

Baek let out a breath, slow and unsteady. “I couldn’t let you die. Not after everything. Not after waiting so damn long for you to be ready.”

Y/N frowned. “Ready?”

“For us.” His fingers tightened around hers. “For you to find your own reason to live. Your own identity outside of this place. So that when you chose to come with me, it would be because you wanted to, not because I asked you to.”

Her heart clenched. “Kang-Hyuk…”

He shook his head. “I never wanted to take you away from Black Wings if you weren’t ready. I never wanted you to follow me just because of what we have. But damn it, Y/N—” His voice broke. “I can’t lose you. I won’t.”

Y/N stared at him, her breath shallow.

It was always unspoken between them. A love tangled between stitches, between lives saved and lost, between the battlefield and the quiet moments in between. They had never needed to say it.

But now, with the weight of near-death between them, silence wasn’t enough.

She reached up with trembling fingers and cupped his cheek. His breath hitched, eyes dark and searching.

“Then take me with you,” she whispered.

His whole body went still.

She let out a small, shaky laugh. “I don’t know how to live outside of this place. But if you’ll have me, I’ll learn. I want to learn.”

Baek inhaled sharply, as if trying to hold himself together. But then, in the next moment, he was leaning in—so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her lips.

“Say it again,” he murmured.

Her heart pounded. “Take me with you.”

Baek Kang-Hyuk closed the space between them.

The kiss was everything and nothing like she imagined. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was steady, certain. A vow sealed between them, whispered through lips that had seen too much war and too little peace.

She melted into him, fingers curling into his shirt, and Baek held her like he never intended to let go.

And for once, he wouldn’t have to.

Because this time, she was choosing him, too.

—

Y/N hated feeling weak.

She had spent years training her body, sharpening her skills, surviving war zones most people wouldn’t last a day in. But now, she was stuck in a hospital bed, her body stitched together by Baek’s hands and sheer luck.

She let out a slow breath, shifting slightly against the pillows. Even that small movement sent a dull ache rippling through her body.

“Don’t even think about moving,” Baek’s voice came from the doorway.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. He had been hovering ever since she woke up, and though she’d never admit it, a part of her found it… comforting.

Baek walked into the room, carrying a tray. “Brought you food,” he said, setting it down on the table beside her. “You need to eat.”

She eyed the tray suspiciously. “Did you make it?”

Baek scoffed. “You think I have time to cook?”

“Then I might actually eat it.”

Baek gave her a dry look but didn’t argue. Instead, he adjusted the blankets around her—fussily, she noted—and sat down on the chair beside her bed.

Y/N studied him for a moment. His face was sharper than usual, dark circles under his eyes, his usual cocky smirk replaced by something quieter.

“How long have you been here?” she asked.

Baek shrugged. “Since we got back.”

She frowned. “That was—”

“Two weeks ago.”

She blinked. Two weeks?

“You haven’t left?”

Baek leaned back, crossing his arms. “Where the hell else would I be?”

Before she could respond, a sudden knock interrupted them.

Baek sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “That’s them.”

“Them?”

Before he could explain, the door swung open, revealing three unfamiliar faces.

“Finally!” Jae-Won stepped inside, arms crossed. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake up, you know.”

Beside him, Jang-Mi with neatly tied hair and a clipboard tucked under her arm sighed. “Dr. Baek has been an absolute menace these past two weeks. You’ve caused us so much trouble.”

Gyeong-Won nodded quickly. “We had to drag him out of here just to make sure he didn’t pass out.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, glancing at Baek. “They sound like they know you well.”

Baek pinched the bridge of his nose. “Unfortunately.”

Y/N blinked at them, then turned to Baek. “So these are the people keeping you in check?”

Baek exhaled. “Barely.”

Jae-won grinned. “He’s been a pain in the ass ever since he got back. Snapping at everyone, refusing to leave this room—”

“I was not snapping—”

“—and scaring the interns half to death,” Jang-Mi finished.

Y/N smirked. “Sounds about right.”

Baek shot her an unimpressed look.

Jae-won nudged her foot lightly, careful not to touch any of her injuries. “But seriously. He’s been out of his mind worried about you.”

Y/N glanced at Baek, who was suddenly very interested in the floor.

She softened.

“Well,” she said, meeting Baek’s gaze. “I’m still here.”

Baek exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he murmured. “You are.”

And for the first time since waking up, she let herself breathe.

—

The hospital rooftop was quiet, the city lights stretching endlessly beyond the railing. A cool breeze carried the scent of rain, the sky painted in hues of deep blue and fading gold.

Y/N stood at the edge, leaning against the railing, the wind playing with the loose strands of her hair. She inhaled deeply, letting the crisp air fill her lungs.

She was alive.

The thought had settled into her bones over the past few weeks, but it still felt… surreal. Black Wings was behind her now. The life she had known—the one that had once defined her—was gone. And yet, here she was. Still standing.

“You shouldn’t be up here.”

She didn’t need to turn around to know it was Baek.

“You say that every time,” she said, glancing over her shoulder.

Baek stood a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his white coat, watching her with that same unreadable expression he always wore when he was thinking too much.

Y/N smirked. “Shouldn’t you be working, Dr. Baek?”

“I should be.” He stepped closer. “But you’re more important.”

Something in her chest tightened.

He stopped beside her, resting his arms on the railing as he looked out over the city. For a while, neither of them spoke.

Then—

“What now?”

Baek’s voice was quiet, but there was something beneath it. A careful question.

Y/N let out a breath. “I don’t know.”

Baek hummed. “Liar.”

She turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

His gaze flickered to her. “You’ve already decided, haven’t you?”

She hesitated, then exhaled. “I’ll stay.”

Baek didn’t react at first. Then, slowly, a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“I knew you’d come around.”

Y/N scoffed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

Baek chuckled, shaking his head. But there was something warm in his expression, something that made her feel steady, like she wasn’t just floating in uncertainty anymore.

Like she belonged.

After a moment, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a hospital ID. He held it up between them, the dim light reflecting off the plastic.

Her name was printed on it.

Y/N stared. “You—”

“I pulled some strings,” Baek said casually. “Figured you’d need a place to start.”

Y/N took the ID slowly, running her fingers over the letters. Dr. Y/N.

Her throat tightened.

She looked up at Baek, finding him already watching her.

“Welcome to the team, Malaika,” he said softly.

Y/N swallowed.

Then, before she could second-guess herself, she reached for his hand.

Baek blinked, caught off guard, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers curled around hers, warm and steady.

For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t afraid of the future.

Because this time, she wasn’t facing it alone.

—

The fluorescent lights of the convenience store hummed softly overhead, casting a sterile glow over the aisles lined with instant meals, snacks, and drinks. It was a quiet night, the streets outside empty save for a few distant headlights, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Baek Kang-Hyuk had nothing to do but stand beside Y/N as she debated which ramyeon to buy.

She tapped her chin in exaggerated thought. “Should I get spicy or extra spicy?”

Baek gave her a flat look. “You cried last time you had extra spicy.”

Y/N gasped, clutching her chest as if personally wounded. “I did not!”

Baek smirked. “You did. You downed three bottles of milk after, and then you swore you were ‘never eating again.’”

She huffed, turning back to the shelf. “Maybe I was just being dramatic.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Maybe?”

Y/N swatted his arm. “Fine. I’ll get the regular spicy.” Then she turned to him with a teasing glint in her eyes. “And you, Dr. Baek? Still going for the mild one?”

Rolling his eyes, he grabbed a cup of spicy ramyeon and tossed it into the basket. “I can handle spice.”

“Sure you can, Malak,” she said, smirking as she walked to the register.

Baek followed her, shaking his head but smiling.

As they reached the counter, the elderly cashier glanced up at them, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Newlyweds?” she asked, ringing up their items.

Baek choked on air.

Y/N, however, just grinned, tilting her head playfully. “Something like that.”

And just like that, the warmth in Baek’s chest grew a little stronger.

—

The world outside their window was slowly waking up—birds chirping, the occasional car passing by—but inside their small apartment, everything was still and quiet.

Baek stirred first, his body instinctively attuned to early mornings, but the weight against his chest made him hesitate before moving.

Y/N was curled up against him, her face buried in his shirt, her breathing slow and even. One of her arms was draped over his stomach, her fingers loosely curled against his side as if she had fallen asleep mid-thought.

Baek sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He had never been the type to stay in bed longer than necessary, but this—having her warm and safe in his arms—made the idea of moving seem absurd.

A soft mumble escaped Y/N’s lips.

Baek glanced down. “Did you just call me ‘Malak’ in your sleep?”

She groaned, shifting but not pulling away. “Shut up.”

He smirked. “Never.”

Y/N buried her face deeper into his chest. “Five more minutes.”

Baek exhaled, shaking his head. “Hopeless.”

But he tightened his hold around her and closed his eyes again. Maybe, just this once, he could stay.

—

The soft strumming of a song played from Y/N’s phone, filling their small living room with a gentle melody. She swayed lightly to the rhythm, barefoot, the fading sunset casting golden light over her figure.

Baek sat on the couch, arms crossed, watching her with an amused expression.

“You know I don’t dance,” he said.

Y/N turned to him, hands on her hips. “You stitch people up like it’s nothing, but this scares you?”

He frowned. “It’s different.”

She grabbed his hands, pulling him to his feet. “It’s not. You just follow my lead.”

Baek hesitated, then let out a resigned sigh. He let her place his hands on her waist as she rested hers lightly on his shoulders.

“Just sway,” she murmured, guiding him in slow, simple movements.

At first, he was stiff, too focused on getting it right, but Y/N smiled up at him—so effortlessly, so freely—and something in him melted.

He exhaled, relaxing into the rhythm.

Then, without thinking, he twirled her.

She let out a surprised laugh, her joy infectious. “Look at you, Dr. Baek. Who knew you had moves?”

He smirked. “Don’t get used to it.”

Y/N rested her forehead against his, her voice softer now. “Too late.”

And as they swayed in the quiet of their home, Baek realized that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t mind dancing as much as he thought.

—

Baek had always been the type to focus intensely when studying, while Y/N had a habit of making notes… and then promptly falling asleep in the middle of them.

Tonight was no different.

He looked up from his textbook to find her slumped over the table, her head resting on her folded arms, soft breaths escaping her lips. Highlighters and open medical journals were scattered around her, her pen still loosely gripped in her fingers.

Baek sighed, shaking his head. “Hopeless,” he muttered under his breath.

Carefully, he pushed back a few strands of hair that had fallen over her face, tucking them behind her ear. He let his fingers linger for just a moment, tracing the soft curve of her cheek before exhaling.

Then, without waking her, he scooped her up in his arms.

Y/N stirred slightly, her head lolling against his shoulder. “Where we going…?” she murmured sleepily.

“To bed,” he said softly.

“Mmm… ‘kay,” she mumbled, curling into his warmth.

Baek chuckled. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Even half-asleep, she smirked. “You love me.”

And damn it, she was right.

Baek exhaled softly, tightening his hold on her as if to ground himself in the reality that she was still here—warm, breathing, alive.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice rough with quiet conviction. “I do.”

Y/N made a sleepy sound of acknowledgment, her fingers curling weakly into his shirt, as if she knew, as if she had always known.

Baek carried her through the dimly lit hall, each step feeling heavier with the weight of everything they had been through. The fear of almost losing her, the years of waiting for her to be ready, the desperate, selfish need to keep her in his life.

But now, for the first time, he wasn’t just holding onto a memory or a fleeting moment. He was holding her—his future, his reason to keep going.

And this time, she was holding on just as tightly.

End

Taglist: @study-with-reine234 @redhoodedtoad @celestialstar111 @ryujinxzyy @urfictional

Thank you for accompanying me throughout Malak and Malaika’s journey! i hope we all find someone like Malak who would wait for us, and someone like Malaika who is worth waiting for. fear not, we’ll certainly see more of them in side stories and one shots!