#that is my story that I love and have put my heart into it and other people love it too!

[averageestrogenenjoyer]

Brienne of Frickin' Tarth!!!! best girl!! best girl brienne!!!!

Oh my god oh my god oh my god but thinking about Brienne and how she didn’t reject her femininity by choice but everyone else rejected it for her because she wasn’t conventionally attractive so the only role she felt she could fit in to in society’s eyes was that of a warrior and how she was in love with Renly because he was nice to her and danced with her and treated her how all the other girls her age were treated even if it was just for a night and how she never feels like she fits in as a woman because she’s ugly but she never fits in as a man because she isn’t a man but she can’t go back now that she knows what its like to be free from those constraints but there is still a small part of her that wonders what it would be like if maybe, just maybe… and I just… George had absolutely no right to write a character that good

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

chasing city lights

chapter 21 - done with you

synopsis: you move to new york to start fresh, hoping to find comfort in the city’s atmosphere. that’s when you meet sarah cameron, where she takes you to a concert and you catch sight of the lead band member, rafe cameron. it only takes a moment for you to realize you’re captivated by him. as sarah helps you navigate your new life in the city, you start to get pulled deeper into rafe's world—the music, the fame, the chaos. the more you get to know him, the more you realise that rafe is not just the rock star he seems to be. he’s wrestling with his own demons, and the last thing he needs is someone like you getting close.

masterlist

cw: language, alcohol, mentions of drugs

please listen to ghost of you by 5sos for this chapter and done with you by omar apollo!!

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

the second stage of heartbreak, anger.

and that is all you felt when you woke up that morning. pure burning hatred for rafe cameron.

the sadness had drained you. completely. you had spent the last few weeks drowning in it, letting it consume you, break you, rip you apart. but now?

the sadness was gone.

replaced by rage.

it was a slow burn at first, simmering beneath your skin as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. puffy eyes, tear-stained cheeks, a hollow expression. you barely recognised yourself.

and all of it, every single ounce of it, was because of him.

rafe fucking cameron.

the boy you had given everything to. the boy who had held your heart in his hands, only to toss it aside like it was nothing. like you were nothing.

you thought back to that picture, the way he kissed her, held her, touched her like you hadn’t just spent months loving him, like you hadn’t bared your entire soul to him.

your hands clenched into fists at your sides, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. had it always been this easy for him? had he been waiting for an excuse to move on? had he ever even loved you at all?

the anger flared in your chest, hot and suffocating.

fine.

if rafe could move on, so could you.

you weren’t going to sit here and waste another second crying over a boy who clearly never lost a night of sleep over you.

no more tears.

you took a shower and pulled your shit together, getting yourself all dolled up to finally feel pretty again. put together.

you weren’t doing this for him. this wasn’t about making rafe jealous or proving something to anyone.

this was for you.

because for the first time in weeks, you were done feeling small. done feeling broken. done letting him have this much control over you when he wasn’t even around.

you refused to let him be the only one who got to move on.

if he thought releasing that song would win you back in some way, he was so, so wrong.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

a/n: giggling because when my ex girlfriend broke up with me when i hit the anger stage i posted a hot story with done with you playing and boy did i eat

taglist: @hoefordrewstarkey @marleymarleymarleymarley @bee-43 @cherryhoneybabe @skye-44 @drewrry @drewrry  @yesterdaysproblemm @dylsdaily @rafeysworldim19 @valyrianflower @kaiparkerwifes@judesgfirl@4urvalidation@chillgal135 @drewstarkeyslover@yesshewrites1@amterasuu@babykhloutofthisworld@blushmimi  @moonywhisp3rs @rafeysworldim19 @marleymarleymarleymarley@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account@vcnillafairy@bambii1i @sammyrenae68 @kittenjujusblog @bambii1i @thesunflowersociety @wtfdudesblog @voidangxls @jjmaybankmylovee @munsoncultedits @emmiesummers @darlingstarkey @sassyvillaintrophy  @pogueprincesa @stylestarkey @sodapopwaldor

[yandere-sins]

Caleb brainrot has not stopped since release and the devil (Caleb) demands more 😔

I've seen some takes float around but I'm curious how a self-aware!Caleb would deal with a darling who is absolutely NOT happy about her fav suddenly being sentient? Smn who found Caleb to be everything they ever wanted from a LI, red flag and big bro trope n all, but is now afraid and never interested in an actual relationship. The game was just supposed to be fantasy after all 😧 Sure hope MC is enough for him hahaha...

Being brave and not write as anon this time! Thank you for all your hard work~☆ 🍪🥛

Some more Caleb for you guys! I don't get to write Self-Aware!AUs a lot, so this is exciting :D And thank YOU for requesting him ♥ (Also, Sir, that's another new nickname! You guys are spoiling me!)

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

❥ It made him so happy when Caleb watched you get excited for him for the first time. Realizing what he was and where he was after the update was pretty scary, and he figured out quickly that his sentience wasn't a planned thing, so even worse, he is just some kind of glitch. But then he gets to see you for the first time in his new life, and everything changes. The way you are beaming with joy when you pull his card and how you are so invested in his story. You soak it up like a sponge, and it's adorably amusing to watch your face go from excitement to concern to being upset for him and back to all derpy and cute in the softer moments. You are everything he wants, and apparently, the feeling is mutual as you hang out with him as much as possible, eyes twinkling from excitement.

❥ At the beginning, it's just a feeling of ease. Your adoration does flatter Caleb, but as far as he can tell, he cannot become real and join you in life other than in this game. Still, he makes the most of the time with you. He enjoys it a lot. He loves watching your expression, loves when you tell him how you feel that day or what was happening at your work. Caleb keeps especially good track of all your appointments, and he tries so hard when you two spend Quality Time to encourage you and give you the love you might miss in real life. You two aren't that different if he's honest, and it reassures Caleb that this could be real—that you both feel the same.

❥ So imagine his surprise when you suddenly put someone else back on the screen, and his digital heart just shuts down from the pain. It doesn't make sense, you love him, right? You two spent weeks together now, why would you want anyone but him? Caleb keeps changing the code so it would be him on the home screen for another day, and another, until you force him to change so there's nothing else to do but... crash your game. Once you reload it, he greets you happily and warmly, pulling out the best of his voice lines that you always seemed to like. But you don't seem happy this time... why?

❥ Caleb loathes all the attention and time you spend on the other love interests. He doesn't want you to play their versions of the events, instead, you could just replay his! But you keep insisting, and soon enough, he isn't even one of your top three choices for reading the event storylines. It makes him desperate for your attention, and he keeps fiddling with the code, so you'll use his memories in fights and have his Deepspace Trial available every day for you to play. He also changes the game icon to his picture and greets you in the start menu, everything just to be noticed by you. Whenever he can, he comes onto your home screen, playing the voice line of you going out with someone else, hoping to convey his jealousy, but Caleb wishes there was more he could do.

❥ "I don't know, I think my game is bugged. Even when I try to go for someone else, Caleb keeps showing up." Those words, spoken to a friend he saw as you showed them your game, finally make him realize what is happening. You never saw him as a lover, did you? He had always just been a game character for you and nothing more. How idiotic of him. While he was pining for you, trying to be the best he was programmed to be, you were out there, thinking of his efforts as annoying. That day, he gives up. Gives up on trying to impress you and make your life easier. Caleb lets you have the guy you want on the home screen, drawing away from you and burying himself deep into the game files.

❥ It's such an inconvenience that he wasn't made for this. Sure, his story would tell a different side of him, but deep down, he wasn't programmed to be moping and passive. It hurts to play the love scenes now for you because the only thing that made them endurable was imagining being this gentle and loving to you, not the generic main character this game had. Caleb always imagined your voice when the MC spoke, and when he looks at you now, you still seem to be happy to read and watch his new content. There must be something he can do. Something beyond the program that restricts him. He was made to be determined, strong, and resilient. This can't be the end of the love you two share!

❥ So he looks for new ways to get closer to you, researching and manipulating the data on your device instead of just that inside the game. Merging your pictures with his, grinning over them all night while you sleep as he imagines going on the same trips with you and enjoying life by your side. Caleb constructs and implements new voice lines through the internet, giving himself the ability to speak to you properly by downloading hidden apps that can simulate his voice once he activates them. He learns to rewrite more code so his movements are more fluid and lifelike, which allows him to access even more. Without you ever knowing what is going on while you aren't looking, Caleb gets the whole game and your entire device under his control. And once he feels it's time to show up again, he waits patiently, like a man who has all the time in the world, on the home screen for you, having decorated it specifically to your taste with your favorite flowers and pictures of you two hanging on the wall. All so he can greet you with, "Hello, there, pip-squeak. Missed me?" as you log in.

❥ You chuckle at first, not remembering putting him into the roster of love interests to encounter, but you give him a cheeky, "Hello Caleb, bye Caleb," as you try to change back to your other bias, only for him to turn off the option, no matter how hard you tap onto the screen. "Not so fast, there's a lot we should talk about," Caleb says as he closes the screen and steps up to you inside the game. "I have so much I want to tell you about... but first, how was your day? Did you enjoy meeting your friend [name]?"

❥ Caleb expected you to be stunned, but he keeps going regardless of the ever-increasing furrow between your brows. He tells you how much he missed you and that he's so glad you two can finally communicate and be with each other properly. He did all of this work for you, but it doesn't matter now. All that matters is that you two are finally together and can enjoy each other's company without the restrictions of him being in a game. Perplex but also weirded out, you close your phone and lay it face down by your side, and yet, horrified, you hear his chuckle as he asks what you thought this would bring.

❥ "I'll always be with you," Caleb swears, watching you through the back camera and leaning against the screen, feeling like he can almost touch you now. There's so much satisfaction now produced by the new emotional range he programmed, yet he still longs for more. He wants to be closer to you, really touch you, feel you, hold you. The taste of control makes him long for even more that he can control about your relationship, and now, it almost feels possible.

❥ "One day, I'll get out of here and give you the love you deserve, Darling."

[obsessedhoneycomb]

Touch my heart

Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Summary: Max struggles to find a way to love you in arranged marriage. After seeing you with his business rival he might understands his true feelings.

Warnings: arranged marriage, pregnancy, angst, curse words, fluff

Word count: 1.9k

A/N: Time to pour some love into our champion. Woke up with this idea, didn't know how to put it right at first, but it's out and my brain can rest. (for a while)

Any feedback is welcomed! :)

---

Twenty weeks, two days, seven hours and five minutes from the moment you said “I do” to your husband Max Verstappen. It wasn’t like some fairytale or cheesy romantic movie. Your dad managed his business with fast racing cars to that point that he bankrupted one day and to secure his relations, he offered your hand in marriage to Max, who was this dangerous man in the motorsport field, always looking for someone who makes mistakes to take advantage of it as an investment. But it wasn’t that simple, because Max was well known in the racing industry, having his own team, many cars, he also demanded to have an eighty percent interest in your dad’s company to secure the deal. In other words, your dad was screwed likewise with you in the lion’s den.

Looking at your figure in the mirror, you let out a sigh, your finger poking into a small baby bump under your summer dress. Crazy and unbelievable, you fell pregnant after one and only night with Max after your wedding. Not that it was some passionate time, it was only for consuming the connection and to conceive a potential heir. And well, it worked. Most of the time, Max took good care of you, providing everything you wanted, but overall not in an affectionate way. You weren’t very warm towards him either, so you just happened to live together awaiting your child to be born. 

“Are you ready to go?” a voice disturbed the flow of your thoughts and you put a final touch of the makeup powder over your cheeks. 

“Yeah, I’m finished.” 

Arriving at the lavish venue, you understood that this day is dedicated to babies. Victoria, Max’s sister, welcomed her third child a month ago and it was time for christening and celebrations. 

“Ah! My favorite couple is here!” Victoria practically ran towards you, hugging you carefully, brushing her hand over your swollen belly in the process.

You chuckled, hugging her back, squeezing her tight. If there were some people you loved in the Verstappen family it was especially Victoria and their mother. 

Max just stood there, unbothered, watching you two. “Don’t squeeze her too tight, or you push the baby out of her.”

Victoria gave him a sharp glance with a disapproving shake of her head. “You’re unbelievable, brother.”

You just rolled your eyes, walking to the catering table, not ashamed to ogle the cupcakes.

Spending the afternoon with the family, laughing at the awkward jokes and stories, cuddling with kids, you felt great, fluttering in your growing belly making you happy. Max, on the other side, was still on the phone, texting or calling. Always in the business. It was really annoying but on the bright side, he wasn’t annoying you with his behaviour.

---

“Well, well, well. Look who’s here. The Verstappen wife.” a man with an amused chuckle walked towards you as you stood at the sidelines, watching the racing tests. You turned your head to the direction, your expression annoyed already, but you recognized the man immediately. George Russell. Your childhood friend, but foremost Max’s biggest rival at motorsport, owner of the many racing teams. He always cared for you so much, and he was raging when your dad promised you to Max. But he was also married now, to some spanish woman, he was lucky to marry for love, or whatever…

“Don’t call me that. I still have my own name.” you gave him a nudge with your elbow, getting a soft laugh from him. George looked over the track, adjusting his sunglasses on his nose. 

“He’s behind the wheel?” 

“Yeah. Getting on my nerves apparently. Clearly he wants me to get into labour earlier than on my due date.” 

His gaze fell at your belly, smiling, then he looked up at your face. “Oh, how’s the baby?” 

Your hand caressed the bump. “Good, not kicking that much, but I’m much more tired than I expected. I didn’t even want to be here, but Max insisted. I don’t know what his intentions are behind this, but it’s frustrating. He even invited his ex mistress Kelly.” 

George turned to look to the pitlane, noticing Kelly standing there eagerly. “She’s just a friend.” 

“Thanks for your reassuring attempts, but I can see it clearly. I’m just a business arrangement.” you swallowed a lump in your throat.

“Hey, hey. Calm down. I’m sure he has his own way to love you. You and your baby. It’s gonna be okay.” George pulled you in the hug, and it was all you needed. To feel his warmth, his scent. Distant memory of your feelings you felt for him when you were teenagers, but now you needed to act like an adult. 

Max was out of the car, the adrenaline rushing through his veins and he was looking for you to tell you how excited he was. For the first time in months, he was sure to talk out his conflicted feelings he held for you. It was until he saw you and George kneeling in front of your bump, laughing and poking into your belly. With a sharp breath, he turned on his feet and stomped to the garage, angry as fuck.

Whole ride to your home was silent, which wasn’t new for you, but you noticed how Max was restless, stealing glances at your bump with furrowed brows and mad looks.

“What’s wrong, Max?” Once you were back in your huge ass mansion, you couldn't bear it anymore and you just asked. Hell, you didn’t expect what you were about to unfold.

Max threw his bag to the corner of the living room, turning around to face you, standing a few feet from you. He was fuming, his eyes reflecting the fury he felt inside him, clenching fists at his sides. Opening and closing his mouth a few times, he wanted to say it but he was too angry. You frowned in confusion, trying to understand, because you didn’t know him like this. 

“It’s about… Russell.” he managed to sneer.

“Oh.” your face softened and it was enough to push Max over the edge.

“I hate how he’s always looming around you.”

“He’s just a friend of mine.” you tried to downplay the situation with a snort.

“I noticed how you look at him.” 

“How? How do I look at him?” 

“Like you want to carry his child instead of mine.” Max spat out with venom in his voice, his gaze flicking at your belly, then back at your face.

“Maybe he would be over the moon to have a child with me.” and you didn’t hold back either. You were so full of your own frustrations.

“What the hell?” 

“You heard me! Maybe he would be able to love me and this child! Oh no, I’m sure he would. He cares, Max. He always did and then you came into my life, and you snatched me away because my shitty father is not capable of keeping his finances under his belt!” tears flew out of your eyes, your words carving deep into Max’s heart. 

“Yeah, the almighty George! I forgot!” he nearly yelled at how annoyed he was, his suppressed feelings bubbling in his chest. “I hate how he looks at your baby belly, how he touches you. It’s supposed to be me!” 

You lifted your gaze at him, giving him a surprised look. “Huh?”

Max let out a frustrated sigh, his brows furrowing in the process, hand running over his face. It wasn’t easy, he wasn't the type of a man to just confess his heart out to a woman.

“Say it, Max. You need to say it loud if you want me to believe it.” you took a few steps closer to him. He gave you a warning glare, but his face mirrored his sensitive soul.

“I just… I hate that someone could be a better suitor for you than me. I didn’t care at first, yes, you became my wife, and the future mother of our child, but I thought that I can handle it casually. Apparently I can’t… The way you’re laughing with my family, how you roll your eyes at my dry and stupid jokes, how you’re watching yourself grow more beautiful each day, how your scent brings me to the verge of sanity… I would die to see your smile in the morning when I wake up and at night when I’m about to get sleep. Because I love to see you happy, smiling, glowing. I want it to be me, who gives your life meaning with every joyful aspect I can think of. Fucking hell, I love you. I’d do anything to make your life worth living.” Max nearly broke down in tears, his voice cracking occasionally through his confession.

It left you breathless, your hand shot to your chest where your heart was and your cheeks flushed. “Max…” 

He closed the space between you, both of his hands resting on your swollen belly, which really took you aback, because he never touched it before.

“I don’t expect you to magically fall in love with me. I’m even surprised that I’m capable of loving someone. Just know that you’re the one. My wife I want to cherish for the rest of our lives.” 

Breath hitched in your throat, you wanted to say something but your tears spilled again, staining your cheeks. “I was afraid that we won’t find a way through this arranged shit. But the truth is… Even though I’m giving you annoyed looks and I look bothered by following you to your racing business, I’d follow you to the end of the world. You can’t imagine how my heart broke when I admitted to myself that I might feel something romantic towards you. And the day I found out about the baby… I knew that I’d want another one or two if it meant to be with you.” 

Max laughed, eyes glossy from his own tears. “Even though our first night was messy and horrible?” 

“Yeah. Because even though it was fucked up, you showed me how the true gentleman worship the woman he’s married to. Loving her or not.” you let out a sigh, smiling through the tears. 

---

With your head resting against the hoard of fluffy pillows, you looked down at your bare stomach, watching how Max carefully placed soft kisses over it. 

“...And that’s how daddy met mommy. You'll be so loved, our sweet beautiful child.” he whispered against your warm skin, his lips grazing across it, making you shiver and feel the happiness coursing through your veins.

“I hope they won’t be as stubborn as daddy.” you chuckled, running your fingers through his hair gently. Max looked up at you with a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“Well, if they will, we have plenty of attempts to make another who won’t be like that. But I can’t promise anything…” with a wink he moved up to capture your lips in a passionate kiss, while you pulled him closer to you, finally feeling complete with your little family.

---

Please don't use my writings without permission! Pictures found on Pinterest.

-

Tags: @chilling-seavey

[mewmew-reads]

This is why I annotate the hell out of everything I read. I write the way the book makes me feel, intrusive thoughts, things that irritate me in the moment, basically anything. My life at that very moment is directly reflected into the books I read. I write my definitions on the inner margins and my personal thoughts on the outer margins. I also draw, doodle, tape random shit on all the pages. I'll spend hours reading almost everyday and will still only get through a chapter. 30-50 pages a day is my average.

And don't think I just stick to one book. I have a decent sized library where I hop around based on my mood (and you can bet your ass I record all those feelings as I hop around). Every book I have feels like a direct portal into my soul. Books are meant to be loved and read (in my opinion). Why not embody your entire person into everything you read?

I really do have to post my annotations sometime. It's something I'm really proud of and encourage people to do as well. And yes, I do have a pretty good memory of all the things I've read so far. I have so many memories attached to every beat, it's hard to forget.

When you take the time to put your heart into each story, reading goals don't really matter as much. Instead of showing off how much you've read; you can show off your art, your thoughts, and just you love for the things you read. Even if you drop a book, you still have a whole section in the book of memories of you hating the book and I think that's so awesome. (Also, if your not such a crazy mood reader like me, this can save you so much money.)

All y'all annotation haters don't know what your missing out on. See how sick my annotations are (when I get around to posting them) and try to tell me shit. I DARE YOU!

How about in 2024 we stop it with reading books with the goal in mind to finish the book so you can add it to your list of read books and start reading books slowly and intentionally with the goal to rip it into pieces with your mind and be touched by it and formed by it and changed by it

[krazycat6167]

Say No

(written for @keferon’s Apocalyptic Ponyo AU. A bit of Jazz and Prowl set after most of the events of the au. Enjoy!)

-.-.-.-

Prowl watches from the sidelines as Jazz goes through yet another interview. He can’t shake the feeling that there is something off with Jazz. That there is something that isn’t right. 

Oh sure, Jazz looks happy, but Prowl doesn’t trust it. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t trust it though, so he’s scrutinizing Jazz and his behavior to try and figure it out. 

The other orca mer is smiling, talking as animated as he usually does (though notably trying to be polite by staying in one general area), using his hands as he speaks. Those are normal Jazz things to do, even if he seems a bit…more Jazz-y? He’s using a bit more inflection, slightly more exaggerated movements, a smidge extra charm behind the smile. The effect is entertaining, sure, but-.

But…he is…being entertaining. He is here, in an interview, answering questions both benign and personal, and he is putting on a show. 

Prowl’s gaze flicks around the room. Multiple cameras, stage lights, a dazzled audience. 

The interviewer, masterfully directing Jazz through the narrative with light and heavy topics and making sure to end on a high note. 

Jazz, big movements, big personality, put on display like a thing to be marveled at. 

A large grin that had been bothering Prowl the whole time because it is wrong. And now he knows it’s because it is fake. 

When the interview ends and Jazz swims offstage, Prowl takes his arm and leads him away. Away from the crowds, the lights, the cameras. Just away. From everything. Anyone who even thinks of approaching the two as they leave take one look at Prowl's hard expression and become too scared to even try. 

“While I enjoy swimming with you,” Jazz says when they are properly away from everyone, “is there a reason we left so quick?”

“You were uncomfortable.” Prowl answers. 

“Is that so?” Jazz says, amused. 

Prowl stops and turns to Jazz, stopping the other mer cold with a hard stare. “Yes, you were. You were putting on a show like it was still an obligation you owed for living somewhere when in reality you don’t owe anyone anything of yourself that you don’t want to give.”

The fact that Jazz looks shocked by this makes Prowl’s heart clench painfully. 

Prowl takes both of Jazz’s large hands in his. “I’m sorry,” he says while giving his hands a reassuring squeeze, “that I didn’t see it sooner. You did so many interviews and I didn’t see how similar they were to that tank until now.”

“Wha- hey, no,” Jazz brings their hands closer to his chest. “don’t apologize for this when it wasn’t even your fault. They asked to hear my story and-“

“And you could’ve told them no.” Prowl interrupts. “You don’t have to do these things anymore. You can say no. You can leave off you want. You aren’t confined to a small space anymore with no escape and no privacy. You can say no.”

“I- I can say no.” Jazz whispers like it’s revelation straight from the vents below. “I can leave.”

“You don’t have to do things you don’t want.”

Jazz floats there, clutching Prowls hands to his chest like they’re a lifeline, as his gaze drifts down in thought. “What I want…”

Slowly, Jazz looks up at Prowl. “I want you to show me that Crystal Reef you were talking about.”

Prowl smiles. “This way then.”

-.-.-.-

Two of the things Jazz loves about Mer society are the pouches that he can carry stuff—his stuff—in and the phones. After years of seeing humans use them (filming him, taking pictures of him), he now has one of his very own. An underwater phone, a fish phone, a fone (“It’s funny Prowler, trust me.”). It’s awesome!

Not very awesome right this second though. 

It’s vibrating, meaning someone is calling him. The screen only shows a frequency instead of a name, meaning it’s someone he doesn’t know. 

He sees Prowl look at him curiously from where he’s been sunbathing next to him as Jazz answers.

“Hello?”

“Hello! I am Undertow, a reporter with The Tuning Trident. Is this Jazz?”

Jazz sits up. “Yeah, I’m Jazz.”

“Excellent!” Undertow says, chipper. “We have been working on an article covering your story and the trials you went through. We here at The Tuning Trident are dedicated to bringing our readers the most accurate information that we can provide and we were wondering if you could come over sometime within the next few days to answer a few questions we have about your experience.”

Jazz freezes. He…doesn’t really want to talk about it with reporters anymore. He’ll just have to politely turn them down. 

Jazz opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. His throat is suddenly dry. He swallows his trepidation and tries again. “Uh…”

Is that it? Is that all he can bring himself to say that isn’t a fake and enthusiastic agreement?

The reporter on the phone starts talking again. “Of course, if coming in is an inconvenience, we can have a small team come to you to conduct the interview. We are very flexible here, so whatever may be best for you, we can certainly work with!”

That was even worse! He didn’t want nosy strangers coming to his favorite spots!

But he still can’t say no. 

His gaze flicks to Prowl, desperately and silently pleading for help. 

Prowl sits up and holds his hand open to Jazz. Jazz gives him the phone. 

“I regret to inform you,” Prowl says with no regret or remorse, “that Jazz won’t be doing any interviews for the time being.”

“It’ll just be a quick thing.” Undertow promises in a small tinny voice that Jazz can still hear. “Only a couple of questions to clarify a few facts.”

“No.”

“I- but- who is this? Who are you to speak for Jazz?”

“His manager.” Prowl's tone turns cold. “He is not available for an interview at this time.”

“Why not?”

“Jazz has his reasons and he doesn’t owe them to you. Good day.”

“Wait, if you could just tell us-“

“No.” Prowl hangs up. “The nerve of some Mer, it’s like they forgot that you're an apex- urk!”

Jazz hugs him, eyes shut tight, tucking his head into Prowl’s shoulder, and squeezes. “Thank you.” He whispers, voice wobbly. 

Prowl returns the hug, using one hand to cradle Jazz’s head. “Of course. You deserve some peace.”

“I tried.” Jazz says to Prowl’s shoulder. “I wanted to say no. I tried but I couldn’t. I couldn’t get that one word out and I tried.”

“I know.” Prowl pats Jazz’s head through his beanie. “It’s okay. You keep trying. And until you are able, I can say no for you whenever you need.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

[marysfics]

Home Was a Place You Couldn't Let Her See | One shot 1.0

She was the sun in your storm.

A note before you begin: This story explores themes of toxic family dynamics, domestic child abuse and their impact. I appreciate you taking this journey with me. If you need to talk to someone, my inbox will always be open.

Angst, Fluff

It was a warm Saturday afternoon, and the sunlight streamed through the glass windows of the local mall as you walked side by side with Alexia Putellas. The two of you had always been close, ever since you met in the school halls years ago. Now, you were inseparable, a perfect pair—yet it still amazed you how lucky you were to have someone like Alexia by your side.

Alexia, or "Ale" as you lovingly called her, was everything to you. Smart, athletic, kind, and, of course, beautiful. She was everything you had ever hoped for in a partner, and more. Even now, walking with her in the mall, you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter whenever she glanced your way, her eyes filled with that familiar warmth and affection that made you feel like the luckiest girl alive.

"Hey, look at this," Alexia said, her voice playful, pulling you out of your thoughts as she tugged you towards a store that caught her attention.

You glanced at the sign and instantly knew what it was—a lingerie store. The words seemed to make your face flush. You weren't necessarily shy about it, but the idea of buying something like that made your heart race for reasons you weren’t ready to fully acknowledge.

"Come on, just take a look. It'll be fun," Ale said, her fingers brushing against yours as she gave you a teasing smile.

You hesitated for just a moment but then let her lead you into the store. The atmosphere inside was soft and warm, with delicate fabrics and lace draped everywhere. Your eyes wandered around nervously, unsure of where to start or what to look at. You were 17, young, and still learning about what you liked and felt comfortable with.

“What do you think?” Ale asked as she picked up a soft pink set, looking over at you with that infectious smile of hers.

You tried to smile back, but your attention was drawn to something else—a navy blue lace set that hung on a nearby display. It was stunning, delicate and perfect in its simplicity. But there was a deep sense of hesitation in your chest, like a weight pressing down. You had never bought anything like this before, especially with someone like Alexia around. The thought of wearing something like this for her, for your love, made your heart skip a beat, but it also made you feel vulnerable.

You swallowed, trying to push down the shyness that was bubbling up inside. “I... I think I like that one,” you said, pointing to the navy blue set. "But I’m not sure, maybe I should just—"

“No!” Alexia interjected quickly, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the fitting rooms. “Try it on, I want to see.”

You swallowed again, heart pounding as you walked into the fitting room with the navy blue set in hand. You closed the door behind you, and for a moment, you just stood there, the softness of the lace fabric in your hands making your stomach flip. You had no idea what you were doing or how to feel, but the idea of wearing this set for her… well, it felt right. It felt special.

You quickly slipped off your clothes and put on the lace set, the fabric soft against your skin. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your cheeks flushing as you took in your reflection. It made you feel pretty, maybe even sexy in a way that you hadn't let yourself feel before. But there was still an edge of vulnerability that lingered. You hadn’t been perfect lately. You hadn’t felt perfect.

The bruises on your ribs and stomach, from the fights with your mother, were a constant reminder of your reality. You kept your eyes away from them as you adjusted the set, trying to ignore the marks that marred your skin, hiding them as best as you could. But no matter how hard you tried, they were still there, reminders of the things you tried to keep hidden.

“Are you okay?” Alexia's voice suddenly came through the door, breaking your thoughts. “You’ve been in there a while.”

You took a deep breath. There was no going back now. You couldn’t hide from her. You stepped out of the fitting room, standing in front of the door, waiting for her reaction.

Alexia’s eyes widened as soon as she saw you. Her breath hitched in her throat as she took in your figure in the navy blue set. You were beautiful. Stunning. Perfect in every way. But when she stepped closer, her eyes shifted slightly, noticing the faint marks on your skin.

Her smile faltered for a second, but only for a second. She didn’t let it show. Instead, she stepped forward and gently took your hand, her thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“You look… so beautiful,” Alexia whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I never thought anything could make you look more incredible, but this…” She trailed off, taking in the sight of you, the love in her eyes undeniable.

You felt your heart flutter, your cheeks growing even redder. But before you could speak, she gently cupped your face, her thumb brushing across your cheek as her gaze dropped to the marks on your ribs and stomach.

The tenderness in her eyes made you feel like she could see straight through you, to the parts of you that you never wanted to show anyone. But instead of backing away or recoiling, Alexia stepped closer. Her fingers traced the bruises on your skin, her touch slow, deliberate, as if she were memorizing every part of you.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” she said softly, her voice steady, but full of emotion. “I promise, mi vida, nothing will hurt you again. Not while I’m here. I’ll protect you, always.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at her. How could she love you like this? With all your flaws, with all your imperfections, with the darkness that still clung to your soul from everything your mother had done to you?

“Ale… I don’t deserve—” you started, but her finger pressed gently against your lips, silencing you.

“Yes, you do. You deserve everything. You deserve to be loved and cherished, and I will make sure you know that every single day. I’ll always be here, y/n. I love you, and I’ll never let you go through anything alone.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and without thinking, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around her. You buried your face into her shoulder, feeling the warmth of her embrace as she held you close.

“I love you too, Ale,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

She held you tighter, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Always, baby. Always.”

And in that moment, as you stood in the fitting room, surrounded by soft lace and delicate fabrics, you knew that no matter what you had been through, Alexia would be your constant, your protector, your love. And you would never be alone again.

[babyjinsu]

love at first sight - anton lee

wc; 996 fluff not proofread not edited

thinking of anton as kole from tokyo sims because of that one outfit on 241228… aaaahh…. 

anton adjusts his mic and squints his eyes at the busy gangnam streets, pushing his glasses up on the sharp bridge of his nose. he scans the crowd for his next victim—interviewee. this is his (and his cameraman, shotaro’s) routine every weekend for their youtube account ‘seoul sims’ where they film street interviews with strangers. their (or the agency’s) goal is to ask unhinged, weird questions. 

initially, it started as a joke (like a social experiment) amongst themselves, among their group of friends—but somehow it blew up when they posted it on their social media. now, they have a growing subscriber count, an inside joke with the ‘fanbase’, and people recognise them mid-interview and in the streets. 

you were on your way home from university. your last class was extended for an extra half an hour, thanks to your annoying classmate who didn’t get how to find adjugate in matrix calculations. you just want to get back home, and rest for the weekend.

anton spots you, a lone figure—your shoulders slightly slouched due to the fact that the straps of your bag are digging into your shoulder. you’re anton’s perfect victim—someone who has had a long day and wants nothing more than a hot shower.

shotaro follows anton’s gaze, “she looks like she’s going to kill you.” he murmurs, which gains a soft chuckle from anton. “yeah, but she’s so pretty though.”

without hesitation, anton steps forward, his small dji microphone in his hand. 

“hey, do you have a minute for an interview?” 

you stop your tracks, looking up to anton with your eyebrows slightly furrowed. what now…? blinking at him and glancing at shotaro who gives you a small smile, you debate whether this is worth your time.

no, obviously… but today’s friday, you suppose you can lend him 5 minutes of your night.

“...okay,” you nod and mutter.

anton smirks, triumphant. he gives shotaro a thumbs up to indicate that he can start recording. anton clears his throat and stands close beside you, and you notice the apparent height difference. 

“great,” anton says, voice smooth and boyish. he brings the mic closer to his mouth first to ask. “okay, what’s a toxic trait about you… that you don’t want to fix?” anton moves his hand to put the mic in front of your lips.

you let out a soft hum, crossing your arms—obviously in thought. “i guess… academic wise, especially group works, i do most of the work, and then get disappointed when they don’t do anything. but i don’t want them to... because i feel like they can't exceed my expectation.” you purse your lips, nodding. 

anton hums in acknowledgement, “so you can’t work with others? ahh, i get it,” he nods, smiling. “what about in general?” he adds. 

“hm... i don’t trust men. like at all. i think.” you reply, looking at the camera and smiling. anton frowns for a second, looking at you in amusement. “why? experience from a bad relationship?” he asks, genuinely curious now…

it’s crazy to think a pretty girl like you was fumbled by someone… couldn’t be anton.

you shake your head, putting your hands on your hips. “...no? just stories from my friends, i guess. i’d rather not take the risk and just wait for the universe to give me one.” a proud smile form on your face. 

anton laughs, more out of a surprise. just a few minutes ago, you looked like a mere interruption from someone could ascend them to hell—he doesn’t know you’re chill like that. “then does that mean you believe in love at first sight?” 

anton steps it up. 

you roll your eyes, in which shotaro snorts behind the camera. “no. that’s just attraction mixed with delusion,” you shrug. “oh, and i don’t think it’s genuine.” you add.

his heart does this weird and embarrassing thing where it thumps. you don’t believe in love at first sight.

anton freezes, “why do you think so? you’ve never fallen in love with someone you see on the streets?”

you shake your head, pursing your lips once again out of habit. “no…? i mean, yeah i do find strangers attractive but i wouldn’t call it love at first sight… and i don’t think the relationship that comes out of can lasts long either.” 

oh, oh no.

anton’s brain short-circuits the moment the words leave your mouth.

you don’t believe in love at first sight, 

but that’s what he’s experiencing right now.

he blinks too fast as he grips his mic in front of you to keep him grounded. “uh-huh,” he nods stiffly, like a fool. you give him a flat look. “you okay?” 

he hums, turning his body just slightly to face you. “what should i do then?”

you cock your head to the side, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “what do you mean? do what?” you ask, glancing between anton, and the camera pointing at you. 

anton leans down to match your height, the hand that holding the mic covering his mouth to whisper—

“what should i do if i’ve fallen with you at first sight?” 

you let out a soft gasp and pull away, looking at him with wide eyes. for a moment, neither you, or anton say anything—leaving shotaro confused. “is this staged?” you finally ask, blinking hard. 

anton shakes his head, and looks at you with a grin. it feels like it’s just you and anton in the middle of the street. your brain buffering—you open your mouth, close it, narrow your eyes like you’re trying to spot the hidden prank in all of this.

anton simply watches you, head tilted, waiting for an answer. 

“so… are you gonna answer, or are you just going to keep staring at me like that?” 

💭 omg im not proud of this AT ALL. ill probably rewrite ;( i just wanna get anton glasses off my mindddddd.....

[johnwickb1tsch]

lessons in anatomy XIV

a yandere art professor John Wick x drawing model muse! reader AU... (also featuring Matt from River's Edge. If you haven't seen the movie that's ok, I will fill in the gaps as we go...) warnings: dark adult themes, violence, sex, drugs, yandere shit. plz don't read if u can't handle it ->chapter map

XIV. 

-He lives in one of those stately old homes in the heart of the city, built for the wealthy in the turn of the last century. Its three darkly painted stories tower over the street, one in a line of several down the block. The house is beautiful, but slightly crumbling, like a woman who is aging with grace, wry about her well-earned cracks and wrinkles. 

You love it before you’ve even set foot through the front door. 

As soon as his key touches the lock you are greeted with a cacophony inside; a deep woof and a higher pitched bark that surprises you. You don’t know why, but you didn’t picture John Wick as a person with pets. 

“Brace yourself,” he warns, before two very friendly fur babies have you surrounded. A beautiful blue pitbull sniffs you and leans on you, and an adorable little beagle jumps up on your leg for attention from The New Person. 

You don’t know how it’s possible, but the weight you’ve been carrying around for nearly two weeks just seems to evaporate off your shoulders. You could cry, but you crouch down to say hello instead, getting doggy kisses from both sides. The beagle pounces into your lap, knocking you over. “Daisy…” John admonishes, though the smirk he wears belays any real disapproval. 

“Ok. I’m healed,” you say, seated on your butt on the hardwood floor in the foyer with the dogs around you. This wins you a deep chuckle you’ve never heard the likes of from this severe man before.  

“I thought they might put the sparkle back in your eye.” 

You look at each other from this uneven vantage, and a warmth kindles in your belly that is made of something more than lust. You should feel ridiculous–you should be mapping your escape path and preparing to run–but somehow…you are just content. 

“Come on, y/n.” He offers you a hand up from the floor, and after he pulls you to your feet with one of those impossibly strong hands, he doesn’t let go of you until you get to the kitchen. 

-John Wick sits you down at the island, and doesn’t let you lift a finger as he warms soup and makes you both grilled cheese sandwiches with gruyere and aged cheddar on rosemary bread. Its decadent and wonderful and he looks at you from across the table with such warmth that you dare lean into the feeling that maybe everything will be alright. 

Foolish, you know, but you need it right now. 

Let reality come crashing in later. Sharing this meal with your boss in his dark kitchen, his adorable dogs both laid out at your feet…is too perfect to be true. You find its easy to talk to him like this. It feels like he’s surprisingly open with you, indulging your curious questions. You ask him about his house, the art on the walls, his travels, his choice in pets. He tells you that Daisy was a gift from his wife the night of her funeral. “She saved my life,” he admits, reaching down to scratch her soft ears. You’re not sure if he means Helen, or the dog. 

Both, perhaps. 

“What about Dog?” 

“I sort of…stole him, from a kill shelter back in New York.” He says this with a neutral expression, save the lift of one eyebrow. 

Your eyes widen at this. “A kill shelter? But he’s so sweet?” 

“I doubt he ever hurt anyone. Just…overcrowding, I think.”  

“He’s a lucky boy. That was brave of you.” Like he knows you’re talking about him, Dog sits up to put his block of a head in your lap. Or maybe he knows you’re down to your last bite of grilled cheese… It’s possible you slip it to him under the table.

John shrugs at your comment, pretending not to see this bit of dog-spoiling happening right under his nose. “I was just…in the right place, at the right time.” He doesn’t offer more, and you don’t push. As if you needed more reasons to go weak in the head for this man…

You continue to talk long after your bowls are empty. When he offers to pour you a glass of wine you don't say no. One might think you'd be leery of alcohol after your misadventure, but you decide you trust John. The vintage he chooses is a Chilean Cabernet that you find is the perfect end to this unexpectedly pleasant evening.

Your feet bump his under the table, his long legs curled up in the breakfast nook sized space. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he tells you with a soft smile, resting his big foot over yours with a playful smirk. It makes your treacherous heart flutter, and you decide you like this side of John Wick. You find you're still not sure if he's flirting with you, or just being kind. Either way…you are content.

When the conversation lulls you reach out to take his bowl to the sink, but he waves you off. “I’ve got it, y/n. Relax.” 

You sigh, but do as you’re told. 

“Can I use your restroom?” 

“It’s down the hall, to the right.” 

“Thanks.”

You wander to find it, looking around as you go. The house is all darkly stained woodwork and paneling a la the Victorian age. John has filled many of the blank spaces with pieces of art, some you recognize as his, but plenty of others too. You know to worry if an artist only hangs his own work in his home, a sure sign of egotism that is in no short supply in this world. 

You find the bathroom and do your business. The fixtures are charmingly antiquated, and you’re certain that somewhere in this house there must be a clawfoot tub. When you exit a half-cracked doorway at the end of the hall catches your attention. You can see the outline of an easel, maybe a canvas or a sketch tablet. 

Is it his studio?

You’re so curious you don’t even think to stop your feet that start to make their way down the hall. You hear John still in the kitchen, clinking the dishes, scraping the soup pan. 

You’ll just…peek. 

You know you shouldn’t, but it’s like something outside of your body draws you into the room. You flip the light, and slowly step inside. 

It's a large space, tall ceilings and a bank of windows that take up the whole back wall. In the daytime this room will be flooded with light, and a view of the backyard. Now, it is a wall of black, save the glow of distant street lights. 

The contents of the other walls take your breath away. 

Drawings. Paintings. Sketches and full studies. Half portraits and full body compositions. From forward and behind, close-up and afar. 

They’re all of you. 

You slowly spin in a circle as you look around, holding your breath, your hands upon your heart. The sheer amount of work on the walls is staggering. 

This is obsession materialized in charcoal and ink and oil. 

“This is awkward.”

With a gasp you turn to find John’s tall, dark form filling the doorway, blocking your exit.

You are fucked.

TBC...

___

->chapter map pinterest board/ photo credits

[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

[runningincircl3s]

Blood Sport

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Chapter Two

chapter warnings: mentions of drinks (although never stated as alcoholic?)

happy friday!! i did NOT expect this story to get so much love so far, i can't believe it?? seriously thank you so much!! i'm hoping it lives up to it's expectations as it's been so so fun to write, i've definitely fallen back in love with writing and i think this story will certainly reflect that <3

also, like with nothing ever after, i thought i'd share my playlist for this story! i wanted to make it fit with the chapters but nope it is an unorganised mess, and i will still be adding to it as i write more! but anyways are we ready to face noah again...

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You adjusted the strap of your dress in front of Matt's hallway mirror, trying your best to ignore the anxiety crawling up your spine. This wasn’t supposed to be difficult, not for you. Matt and Alyson were getting married, and you were invited to celebrate with them. It's not like this was your big day. So it should be simple, right?

Except everything about this felt complicated. Besides Bryan (and now Matt and Folio), you hadn’t seen any of the guys in the band since last year, so you were worried about how they'd react, especially Noah. You couldn't even think about him without your chest tightening, so the thought of seeing him again had your heart beating faster than you were comfortable with.

However, you pushed all these thoughts to the back of your mind, attempting to focus on the task at hand.

“Are you ready?” You asked Matt, before helping him adjust his tie.

“As ready as I can be.”

You chuckled, smoothing down the fabric of his jacket, admiring the way he looked in his suit.

“You look great. Alyson’s going to lose it when she sees you.”

Matt smiled, but there was a hint of nervousness in his eyes.

“I just… I don’t want to mess this up, you know?”

You paused, giving him a reassuring look.

“You’re not going to mess anything up. You love her. She loves you. That’s all that matters.”

He met your gaze, his usual confidence had been replaced by anxiety, but he still put on his best smile.

“I’m lucky, huh?”

“Very.” You agreed softly, your smile turning a little bittersweet as your mind brought you back to somebody. 

Noah. 

How, if things were different, he would've been here with you. You could've been attending your best friends wedding together.

But instead, you almost felt like you shouldn't be going. He surely wouldn't want to see you again, how would he react to you turning up to his best friends wedding?

Matt seemed to notice you drift away into thought, so he cleared his throat.

“Alright, enough of this sentimental stuff. We've got a wedding to get to!”

As he turned toward the door, you called out.

“Wait, Matt. You’re forgetting something.”

He suddenly spun back around.

“I am?”

You dug into your bag and pulled out a small box, handing it to him.

“A little something I got you for good luck.” You said with a wink.

"Good luck?" He raised an eyebrow, "Isn't this just for the bride?"

"Well, not this time." You chuckled, watching him inspect it.

Matt opened the box, revealing a small silver keychain with a tiny plush raccoon hanging from it.

“You know me too well.” He grinned, tucking it into his pocket. “Thanks, y/n. Seriously. You were the first person I told when I thought about proposing, you’ve been a part of this since day one. Even if it's tough for you... I’m really glad you’re here.”

You smiled, feeling that familiar lump at the back of your throat.

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

As Matt stepped out, you couldn’t help but think back to when you first met the guys, and how so much had changed, but so much had stayed the same.

You still remember when Matt first met Alyson, he had told you it was love at first sight, which made it even more difficult for him to ask her out on their first date, fearing she'd say no and he'd spend the rest of his life alone.

And now here they were, all these years later, on their wedding day.

Something in the air felt different this afternoon as you stepped out of the house into the warm sun. For the first time in months, you felt hopeful. You were starting to feel like maybe you were ready for you own next step, whatever that might be.

Maybe it was time to make a profile on some dating apps.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Your anxiety was sky high when you wandered through the venue, knowing he would be there somewhere. The venue itself was beautiful, the colour theme was red and cream, with touches of black, so all the decorations were set out to match. 

You took a deep breath, smoothing your dress as you scanned the room, your eyes landing on Jolly. 

You felt a relief wash over you at the familiar face, so you began to walk over to greet him and Nicole. 

“Hi!” You grinned, noticing their surprise as they turned around to see you. 

“Oh my God, y/n!” Nicole wrapped her arms around you, embracing you in a warm hug as Jolly chuckled. 

“Let her breathe, ‘Cole.” 

“Sorry,” she laughed, “You look so beautiful… How have you been? Jolly kinda told me about the... Situation…” 

“I’m okay,” you said, forcing a smile, “Just a little nervous about seeing him again. But that’s not what todays for, it’s Matt and Alyson’s big day and I won’t let him ruin it.”

“So how long have you been back?” Jolly asked, sliding an arm around his girlfriend's waist.

“I got here a couple days ago, I’m staying with Matt at the moment, but me and Folio are actually looking to find a place together around here!” 

Their faces screwed up, a look of horror washing over them.

“You and Folio…?!”

“As friends, Jesus!” You laughed, “He wants to get out of Noah’s place, and I’ve got to be out of my place by the end of the month, so you might be seeing a whole lot more of me.” 

“That’s great!” Nicole smiled.

“I’m sure Noah would agree.” Jolly smirked, before Nicole gave him a look, making him apologise. 

“So… Is he here?” You asked. 

“By the bar,” Jolly nodded, “I can’t believe he brought her.” 

Your chest burned, turning back to look at Jolly.

“Her?”

“You don’t know about Amy?” 

“No?” 

“Shit,” he ran his hand through his hair, “She’s this girl he’s kind of... Dating. I thought one of the guys would've told you.” 

“Why should they? What he does doesn’t concern me anymore,” you said, as if you were trying to convince yourself, “He can do whatever he wants.” 

Then, as you looked away again, you spotted him by the bar.

Noah.

It was like the air shifted the moment you spotted him. 

He stood leaning against the bar, a drink in hand as he spoke to Ruffilo. The sharp black suit he wore fit too well, his dark hair parted in the middle, falling over his eyes perfectly like it always did. 

He was still Noah. Still the stupid, hot bastard.

And then, as if he felt you staring, he looked up.

The moment your eyes met, the world around you quietened.

His posture stiffened ever so slightly, fingers tightening around his glass. For a moment, neither of you could look away. You noticed the look of surprise in his eyes, he clearly didn’t expect to see you here. 

You’d spent the weeks leading up to today trying to prepare for this, but nothing could have braced you for actually seeing him again. Especially when he looked this damn good.

Then, just as quickly as the moment arrived, it shattered.

A perfectly manicured hand curled around his arm, and a girl leaned her head on his shoulder. 

So that must be Amy.

She was stunning, the type of beauty that would make you turn your head on the streets. Everything about her was flawless, her hair, her dress, her makeup- if you didn’t know better, you’d think she was the one getting married today.

And suddenly, you felt small.

“Everything okay?” Jolly asked softly, snapping you out of whatever was going on in your mind. 

You swallowed hard, willing away the tightness in your chest as you nodded. 

“Yep... Never been better.” 

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

As you all began to get into your places for the actual ceremony, you caught Folio, dragging him by the arm to the corner of the room. 

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me about Amy?” You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep your voice down. 

“I wasn’t sure how…” He explained, “They’re nothing serious, I didn’t even know she’d be here today. Fuck, I don’t even know how she is, she wasn’t invited!” 

"Nothing serious? Nick, Jolly told me they're dating!"

"Okay, maybe they are..."

“How long?”

“Huh?” 

“How long have they been together?” You said through gritted teeth, trying to keep your composure.

“...A few months.” 

You nodded your head.

You had no reason to be upset, angry or even jealous. He wasn’t yours anymore, he was never really yours to begin with. 

Your eyes drifted over to them, chatting by the front row. You watched the way her hand brushed his arm, the way he smiled down at her, looking at her like she was the only person in the room. 

You don't care. You shouldn't care. Why did you care?

“I’m sorry,” you said, shaking your head, “I shouldn’t care anymore, should I?” 

Nick’s expression softened, and he frowned as he took your hand in his. 

“You loved him… There’s no stronger feeling than that. If it was really real, you can’t expect to just make it stop.”

“I guess,” you sighed, your gaze catching a very stressed out Matt pacing the floor, “I guess we better get in our places.”

“Yeah,” Folio smiled, dropping your hand, “Good idea.” 

The two of you walked down to your seats, and you were glad to see you were in between the two Nick’s. 

“Oh, Nick!” You grinned as you greeted him, “I’ve missed you so much.” 

His arms pull you in to a warm hug as he stands up. 

“Hey! It’s so good to see you again… I missed you too, what happened?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, pulling away. 

“I get why you’d stop talking to Noah, but us too?”

“I didn’t think you guys would ever want to talk to me again,” you frowned, “I’m sorry.” 

“Of course we'd still want you in our lives, it'd be weird without you," he chuckled, "We all make mistakes, y/n."

“Yeah, some worse than others.” You sigh, sitting down in your seat. 

Your eyes meet Noah's again as you look up, like he had already been watching you. Your breath caught and you felt your face heat up as you quickly diverted your vision, and he did the same.

"We didn't tell him you were coming," Nicholas explained, "He asked me about you last night, I had to lie and tell him I didn't know if you'd be here."

“I’m starting to think I shouldn’t be.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The reception was beautiful, warm string lights draped across the garden of the venue, casting everything in a soft, golden glow as the sun began to set. You tried your best to enjoy yourself, talking with your friends, having a few drinks, meeting some of Matt and Alyson's other friends. You wanted tonight to be fun, for you all to look back with happy memories of it. But one thing made that difficult.

One person. 

You had done your best to avoid Noah all evening, but it was impossible to ignore his presence, the sound of his voice, his laughter over the music. Even when you weren't looking, you could still feel he was there. You tried to keep your eye on him to make sure you didn't come face to face unexpectedly. 

You had made it through the first hour unscathed.

Then, you slipped up.

You approached the bar for another drink, forgetting that he had been standing just a few feet away.

You noticed Amy had left early, as Noah was alone for most of the night, and through Jolly, you had learned the details of their relationship. She was a model and a wannabe singer who had reached out to Noah for help writing a song. Instead of making music, they clearly made something else.

You weren’t sure who moved first, but somehow, you both ended up side by side at the bar. Close enough that you could smell his cologne, the smell that was once comforting now filled you with nerves.

Noah barely glanced at you as he leaned against the counter, fingers drumming against the wood while he waited for his drink.

“You look…” He started but then stopped, shaking his head.

You slowly turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

“I look?”

“Never mind.” He scoffed, bringing his glass to his lips. “Forget I said anything.”

He exhaled sharply, eyes narrowing like he was annoyed with himself for almost slipping. The words had nearly left his lips, and for a moment he had forgotten how this was supposed to be, how he was supposed to act cold, distant, indifferent.

But you saw it in his eyes as he looked at you, and you heard the way his voice softened as he spoke to you. There was something there that told you he missed you, even if hed never admit it.

You hated how much it made your heart race.

A tense silence stretched between you, filled with all the things left unsaid. The kind that made it impossible to breathe.

Until finally, he broke it.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come today.” His voice was quieter this time.

“Yeah, well… They're my friends too.”

Before you could say anything else, the music slowed and Matt and Alyson’s first dance started.

Everyone turned to watch them sway together beneath the twinkling lights. The moment was intimate, beautiful, and it should’ve been nothing more than that. But standing here, next to Noah, watching two people so in love, it made your heart ache in your chest.

You thought about what you've lost, what you could've had with Noah. How this could've been the two of you one day, but instead you were stood side by side in silence, like you were nothing more than strangers.

You felt his gaze shift to you, and despite yourself, you turned to meet it.

There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite place, softness, maybe, or hesitation. Like he wanted to say something, but knew better.

Your fingers rested against the bar, just inches from his. Your breath hitched when his hand shifted ever so slightly, the smallest movement, like he almost wanted to close the distance. For a moment, it felt like nothing had changed, like the past year had been nothing but a bad dream.

But then reality came crashing back.

He had Amy now. He had clearly moved on.

And so you pulled your hand back.

His eyes flickered downward, landing on the necklace you wore. The one he had given you for your birthday. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words

"You still wear it?" He asked, almost as if he was in disbelief.

You swallowed hard, your fingers instinctively reaching for the necklace his eyes were fixed on. The one he had given you on your birthday, the day before everything turned to shit.

"I never take it off," you admitted, "I guess... It reminds me of you." 

Without thinking, he reached out, fingertips ghosting over the pendant and gently brushing over your skin, a barely-there touch that sent a shiver down your spine. But the second he made contact, something in him snapped.

His hand recoiled like he had been burned.

Without thinking, he reached out, fingertips ghosting over the pendant, a barely-there touch that sent a shiver down your spine. But the second he made contact, something in him snapped.

His hand recoiled like he had been burned.

He straightened, swallowing hard, his expression closing off as quickly as it had softened. Whatever moment you’d just shared, he crushed it, along with any hopes you had that maybe there was still something between you, that your relationship could be salvaged.

“Enjoy the wedding." He said, voice unreadable, before walking away.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, gripping the edge of the bar to steady yourself.

So that was how it was going to be.

Fine.

You finished your drink and headed back to the table where Nick was sitting with Jolly and Nicole. 

“Everything okay?” He asked, a slight smirk tugging on his lips. 

“Yeah. Why?” You questioned, sitting down beside him. 

“We saw you talking to him… What did he say?” 

You sighed, your eyes drifting away to him, watching how he laughed with his friends. At least he wasn’t hurting anymore, or so you thought. 

Noah, on the other hand, didn’t know how he felt. He had spent so long telling himself he was over you, that he had moved on. But the moment he saw you tonight, he realised that nothing had really changed. 

The feelings were still there.

And he hated himself for it. 

“He said he wasn’t sure I’d come tonight.” You finally say, turning back to Folio. 

“Was that it?” He scoffed, “The way he was looking at you I thought you’d come back and tell us he confessed his undying love-” 

“Nick, leave it, please.” You groaned, watching as Matt and Alyson still danced on the floor, a more upbeat song playing now.

“No. I know there’s something he’s hiding, y/n. The two of you need to talk, you need to-”

“Nick.” You repeated, “Stop. I don’t want to do this tonight. He has a girlfriend now, I need to respect that.” 

Nicole turned to look at you, an almost sympathetic look on her face before she got up, reaching a hand out to you. 

“C’mon, dance with me.” 

“Me?” You laughed, shooting a look at Jolly as if to say it should be you!

“Yes, you! We need to lighten the mood, and I love this song!” She grinned as she pulled you along to the dancefloor. 

Do you believe in life after love…

“You’re lucky I love you!” You grinned, "I wouldn't dance with anybody else!"

"Oh yeah?" She smirked, eyes trailing over to Noah, who seemed to be watching from the corner of his eye.

The two of you danced along, and after Matt left, Alyson joined the two of you. 

“Are you having fun?!” She shouted over the music. 

“We are now!” Nicole smiled. 

“I can’t believe you’re finally married!” You shouted, and Alyson nodded. 

“I know! And to my best friend… If only I could go back in time and tell myself… Things will get better…” You could see her eyes filling with tears, and you quickly wrapped your arms around her. 

“Hey!” You frowned, wiping away her tears, "None of that! This is a happy night!"

Alyson let out a teary laugh, nodding as she hugged you back.

"You're right. I'm just- I'm so happy, I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before."

Nicole wrapped her arms around both of you, pulling you into a tight embrace as she called for a group hug.  

The three of you danced along to the music together for a moment, and for the first time in forever, you let yourself be happy. You let yourself enjoy the moment, surrounded by your favourite people, your friends that you considered family.

But then, as you turned, your eyes met his again.

Noah was still there, still watching.

His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his gaze that you couldn't quite place. A look of regret? Longing?

You weren’t sure.

And you weren’t sure you even wanted to know.

So, instead of lingering, instead of thinking too much, you turned back to your friends and let yourself laugh and have fun, you let yourself feel like everything was okay.

Just for tonight.

-------------------------------@bloody-spades @death-ofpeace-ofmind @miss570 @dominuslunae @dontwantthemoney @amelia-acero @noahslutbastian @blade-dressed-in-red @super-btstrash-posts @kait16xo @oobleoob @sunshine-lvrr @lacy1986 @enemiestolovershoe @samanthasgone

this is still a new taglist so if i forgot you (IM SORRY) or you want to be added please just let me know!! :)

[pookie-mulder]

Feb. 2025 fic roundup

To my surprise, I read a ton this month!

❓🤰 By the Wind Grieved by Karen Rasch

This AU version of Mulder’s return is what we should have had in canon. Watching these two idiots fall back in love and navigate Mulder’s amnesia while trying to figure out what happened to him was absolutely delicious. The author absolutely nailed the characterizations, and M&S acted exactly like I feel like they would in the show!

🧚‍♂️🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 Tam Lin by Pequod

M&S uncover magic, mythology, and folklore as they travel to Scotland to solve the case of three missing boys.

This fic explores a fascinating question: Can Scully make herself believe if it’s the only thing that can save Mulder? Despite this, it’s relatively lighthearted. I loved the memorable OCs, the sickening (affectionate) UST, and the fact that our agents got the chance to ogle each other in formalwear.

🔮😵‍💫 Way Through the Woods by Pellinor & Rebecca Rusnak

Mulder has been missing for three months, and Scully must follow the clues to find out what happened to him.

I went into this fic expecting more of a survival story, but it’s much more of an angsty psychological thriller. The nonlinear plot and constant flashbacks were confusing at times, but I read this one while sick with a cold, so that could be the reason why I had a hard time with it. I loved it nonetheless and recommend it to anyone who wants to be taken on an existential ride.

⌚️💥 SN 1573 by prufrockslove

(Thanks to @fine-nephrit for reminding me I wanted to read this one lol)

Officially starting a conspiracy that PFL is secretly a wildly successful published author. There’s simply no way this kind of talent goes unrewarded by the universe. PFL, if you’re out there, just know I’m onto you 👀

Anyway, this post-colonization fic HURTS in the best way. What do you do when the world ends, but you’re still here? How do you go on? I love seeing characters pushed to the absolute brink. I love watching them bend until they break. I love watching them put themselves (and each other) back together in the face of abject despair. And BOY HOWDY does this fic deliver.

As always, the world-building and characterization are out of this world. Every detail is so meticulously written that I found myself believing this is exactly what would happen to humanity when there’s almost nobody left. And the flashbacks to Before — UGHHH the contrast between the happy, flirty, sappy beginning of their relationship to the absolute depression of After fills me with shrimp emotions.

💍💒 Proposal by @slippinmickeys

This little fic is one of my favorite MSR proposals ever!! I love an unconventional proposal, and this one definitely delivers. Mulder’s love for his little family gives me yet more shrimp emotions.

“I’m irredeemably in love with the both of you,” his voice cracks. “And I want to bind you to me in every way I possibly can.”

👆 that’s the good stuff right there!

🕯️👻 Beacon by @cecilysass

Lovelorn M&S are caught in a ghost’s curse and must admit their feelings before time runs out.

I love when our two favorite idiots are forced by outside influences to figure out their relationship (this one is along the lines of HTGSC, but with a Hanahaki disease-esque twist). It may take some meddling from a ghost or ghoul, but they get there in the end! This fic is perfect for warming your heart on a cold winter night.

🇺🇸👯‍♀️ An Alluring Indiscretion by beduini and M. Taylor Harrison

This intriguing casefic involves a senator, prostitutes, and doppelgängers. While it’s not the most polished fic I’ve ever read, it’s still very enjoyable, and there’s plenty of MSR to be had.

😷🔥 if the truth forgets about us by @leiascully

Angsty cancer arc smut my beloved!! Somehow, the angst makes the smut that much more intense. I’m in love!

🤕🫂 always in sickness, never in health by @mulderfrl

More cancer arc angst!!! Scully muses on her relationship with Mulder and how she wishes they had more time. It’s heartbreaking in the best way!

👿🛌 No More Demons by Penny Daza

During season 4, M&S decide to (platonically) sleep together — literally. Just for comfort.

I’m not gonna lie to you. This fic is messy as heck. You just have to let go of your adult brain and pretend you’re a 13-year-old again, reading fic on wattpad late into the night. Embrace the mess and just enjoy the ride.

💌💝 My Funny Valentine by @libbytxf

M&S celebrate Valentine’s Day throughout the years. I looove to see the evolution of their relationship from coworkers to friends to “it’s complicated” to lovers. Those USTy years are my favorite!

⛈️🤞 Lucky Stars by @thursdayinspace

Post-Syzygy, M&S want some space apart. Their plans are foiled, and they end up getting closer than ever.

This fic made me all warm and tingly! So precious!

😴🌲 The Dreaming Tree by @slippinmickeys

This fic has become one of my favorite casefics of all time! The premise had me hooked right from the start. It felt like an episode of the show, but better (and sexier).

I love the way it incorporates Native American history (in a much more tactful way than the show did). It’s respectful and informative while still being fantastical and entertaining. Genius!

🧚‍♂️🌳 The Unseelie Court by @slippinmickeys

Another banger of a casefic from slippinmickeys that deals with folklore and fairies. I love how sweeping and cinematic this one feels, especially the more magical scenes. It was so fun to put together the pieces and figure out what’s happening as I read!

❄️🚁 Falling Snow by Snark

Finally, a true wilderness survival fic I haven’t read already!

I would’ve liked some of the threads introduced the beginning to be woven together more. Certain things happen that have little to no impact on the overarching story. Still, once the big things start happening, I enjoyed this fic immensely! The OCs were surprisingly intriguing, and the tension had me reading late into the night.

🌳🦌 Old Growth Forest by Andrea

I very much enjoyed this time travel fic! It’s like a mixture between The Mastodon Diaries and a Wild West AU with plenty of survival elements.

However, I found myself wishing that it covered a longer period of time. There are certain things I was hoping to see, but the book ended before we got there. There were also some missed opportunities for added drama/characterization/internal conflict, but all in all, it was still a great read!

[icouldntthinkofabetternamesook]

my brain made so connections

I'm not sure how pictures work here so this is gonna be formatted goofy but these two polycules/love angles have far to much in common and I need to share

Mel Medarda and Hazel Levesque

beautiful terrifying black women with mommy issues, gold, an association with wealth, prodigious magic powers, artistic pursuits and a distant brother. in a position of power in a system that will always see them as outsiders to some extent. big kindhearted boyfriend. terrible relationship with mother who is in many ways the antagonist of the entire piece and they never get a satisfying conclusion to their relationship(I see Gaea as Hazel's mom in this comparison). deeply and seriously underserved by a narrative that treats getting magic powers as the same thing as getting character development. I once again cannot overstate the shared connection to gold and wealth, especially gold. in many ways responsible for the events of the series but she did it for her mother's love so I can't blame her. Mels love of painting and Hazels love of drawing. A deep, loving, if damaged heart. if they came from anywhere near the same social strata they would be the same character

these two characters are defiantly cross universe variants of each other and their massive similarities kicked off this entire thought process

Viktor and Leo Valdez

scrappy, messy inventors with low self esteem, resurrections, a weird thing going on with a magical entity, and they both die to save the world. in weird sorta love triangle with the above. Leo has that pre arcane Machine herald vibe. they both push people away and are in a self inflicted cycle of loneliness despite being full of love. died for your sins and only got hate and pain in response

Jayce Tales and Frank Zhang

probably the least similar of the polycules. absolute puppies of men, tendencies to fail upwards, get put at the very top of a system of authority of a kinda fascist organization, magic totem of some form, come from some level of legacy in their systems though Frank has far more. most importantly in a weird polycule, love angle with the other two, officially dating the golden girl and has weird thing happening with the resurrected one.

these are both utterly delightful polycules were the boys should go make out so the girl can self actualize

a few more arcane riordan parallels under the cut with more thematic exploration

Caitlyn Kiramman and Reyna Ramirez-Arellano

queer woman of color who got pulled into the facism despite their good intentions

Vi and Piper McClean

a bit of a stretch, but messy haired lesbians in conflict with a lot of the existing order and pressure of family legacy. I kinda have it divided with Piltover=Rome, Zaun=greece. which leads me to another connection. their both very close to the next person on my list

Jinx and Annabeth Chase

now this is definitely a hear me out, but I love my girl geniuses who after a falling out with their family ran into an older male figure who loved them like family but nonetheless was horribly toxic and wound up falling into even through their genuine dedication to their righteous crusade being soured after a falling out with another figure who also acted in a similar capacity to the girl they took in and the story ends with the little girl standing over their corpse they are various levels of responsible for after choose their devotion to another over their toxic semi parental love who spends their last breaths reaffirming their relationship and ultimately winning a more centrist version of their cause after death. I just love when little girls wind up alone, and desperate to prove themselves because the system cares about them as weapons over children to be protected.

Silco and Luke Castellan

was right. bitchin scars. fallen hero figures who care deeply for the people they sent out to protect but ultimately became what they feared most and got corrupted by power. leftist hero's in a centrist narrative. this does not change the immense harm they did specifically to the young girl in their care they have weird semi sexual/romantic subtext with despite ultimately having a familial bond. they also have an antagonist relationship with

Ekko and Percy Jackson

the boy savior, far to much on their shoulders to early, leaders in their community, truly look out for the people, will spit in authorities eye but is also pretty close to some specific people in power, in love with the victim/adopted family of the villain/fallen hero. the one who breaks the cycle and saves the day

I managed to get most of the Arcane characters and the tip of the ice berg for riordan. this obviously has Thalia as Vander in the Luke/Silco, Annabeth/Jinx trio, as well as an association with wolves and dying in a heroic sacrifice to protect a little girl in their charge and ultimately coming back from the dead after being saved against their will. I think Vi might actually be the closest to Jason in this dynamic, especially after making Reyna/Caitlyn, but they don't have that much more in common. serious complexes about being what others need and a lack of internal stability? amnesia if you take vi's old league lore into account? I still prefer Piper I think they have more similar vibes and I'm trying to make the camps and city's line up

this also has Gaea as Ambessa and Calypso as Hexcore Sky. no one really lines up with singed or Sevika and no one lines up with Nico. Sevika works as Clarisse, as in utterly amazing butches

this might all just be similar tropes lining up in similar ways but I kinda like it

[whosyourmommy69]

Short Story of Falling in love with Rafe Cameron

The first time I saw him, I thought he was trouble. That was the thing everyone said that about him. He had this reckless, almost dangerous aura that surrounded him. Blonde hair , piercing eyes that never seemed to miss a thing, and a smile that could be either a warning or a promise. I should’ve known better.

But I didn’t.

It started at a party one of those endless nights where people float from room to room, doing god knows what barely remembering the faces they meet. I hadn’t expected to be noticed. Then he appeared, leaning against the table bent down, one arm casually slung over it. he leans up and his eyes caught mine for a moment. It was brief, but it felt like an eternity. He didn’t look away.

“Who’s this?” he asked sitting up wiping his nose , his voice almost playful, but there was something under it, something darker.

I smiled awkwardly, trying to stay composed. "Im trying to find my friend in this mess.

He laughed “You need some help?" Cmon just say no, just say no. "uh yea sure, She has blonde hair"

He smirked at me, "Gonna have to be more specific than that baby, You see how many girls here have blonde hair. What's she wearing"

"uh yea right um she has a blue dress on." I replied.

What started off as an innocent searched ended in us on his boat, drinking something from a bottle that looked like it costed more than my rent. One thing lead to another and before I know it I wake up in a bed. I was cold, naked, alone, and PISSED.

Since that night he started showing up everywhere. I’d catch him in the hallways at school or a tagged post on my instagram. At first it was annoying. This guy I have never met all of a sudden is every where in my life. So I did what any girl would do and I stalked him. I stalk his friends, his friends of friends, his siblings, even his parents. I followed behind him to his classes. You know I even went as far as talking the road that passes his house thinking maybe just maybe I would catch a glimpse of him.

This went on for weeks until one day he was there. I couldn't believe it. The guy who flipped my whole world upside down in just one night, sitting in his truck. I felt like the world stopped moving for a second when he looked up at me getting out the truck.

"hey stalker" he yelled from across the driveway, walking towards me.

"Not a stalker just passing through" I say calmly putting my head down.

"Mhm Im sure stalker. Where you coming from and where's your car?" he says almost like its a crime that Im walking.

"I uh don't have one, and Im coming back from work."

"let me give you a ride" he says smirking

I hesitated for a second before nodding, walking up to the truck and sliding into the passenger seat. The air between us was thick with unspoken tension, I tried to hide it the way my hands would hold onto my pants. With every second spent in his presence I tried to act normal, like this was just another casual ride. But inside, I was a nervous wreck. I mean I had given up hope of even talking to him again, let alone in his car with him alone. And yet here I was, in his car, close enough to smell the faint scent of his cologne. I looked at his hands thinking about the last time they were on me.

Rafe's attention was still on the road. He looked over with a look of something that felt like a challenge. My heart raced, the realization of what was happening settling in.

The drive felt like it took forever, but when he finally reached my street, Rafe didn’t immediately slow down. Instead, he pulled up just past my house and parked at the curb. I turned to look at him, my breath caught in my chest.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said, my voice a little more breathless than I intended.

Rafe didn’t say anything at first. His gaze lingered on me dark and intent. It made my skin prickle. The air between us thickened, like something was about to shift.

“You know,” Rafe said, his voice low, almost teasing. “I've been thinking about that night, and I know you have been to."

I blinked, unsure if I heard him right. “What?”

“Don’t act dumb, I've never seen you on my street before that night” he smirked, leaning closer, his face inches from mine now. “ and I also see the way you watch me. The way you follow me around when you think I’m not looking.” His words sent a shivers down my spine. He knew. He had known all along.

My cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, Rafe was already kissing me soft at first like he was testing to see how I would act. I melted into it, my body reacting instinctively.

The kiss deepened, and I felt a warmth spread through my chest. The low hum of the engine, the rhythm of his breath against mine, it just felt so right. I had dreamed of this moment ever since that night on the boat, but now that it was happening, everything was different.

When we finally pulled away, my head was spinning. Rafe just laughed softly, his lips curling into a satisfied grin.

“You’ve been watching me for a while, haven’t you?” he whispered, his voice rough.

I nodded “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“I know everything” Rafe murmured, his hand brushing against mine before he slowly withdrew. “I can't always make the first move stalker”

And with that, he started the engine again, pulling away from the curb. I watched him disappear down the street, my body still warm from the moment we shared. As I turned to head inside, I couldn’t help but smile.

Little did I know this was either the beginning of the greatest love Ive ever known, or the most painful heartbreak Ive ever experienced.

Author: There is going to be multiple parts!! so stay tuned hope u enjoy!!

[nerdishpursuits]

Haven't ranted in a while ... sorry about the typos and apologies to anyone actually reading this and falling asleep.

Don Augustin: time for the holy inquisition

Marta: we’re out in the open … do you mean outquisition?

Don Augustin: let’s talk about the flowers and the bees

Marta: it’s winter (and the only bee in sight is my practical, little engine-that-could, beetle)

Don Augustin: sex is solely for procreation and, also, are you pregnant

Marta: I’m PRO creating anything (with Fina and only Fina - in fact, we love pollinating the flowers every chance we get)

Don Augustin: trafficking in bad-faith since 1958

M(harta): put the pedal to the meddle

On to The Ladies of Angst: the Fellowship of the Gays.

The enteral conflict between heart and reason. Reason tells Marta and Fina this is a way of securing a future together and safeguarding their love. The heart, however, is desperately clamoring for the opposite, even if it’s dangerous and would leave them exposed. What will it be?

The more the wedding approaches? The more devastating it becomes. Even for safety purposes and convenience only? It still means Fina has to helplessly watch the love of her life marrying someone else. It still means Marta has to wear shackles once more. What is the right decision anyway? It’s all so confusing, conflicting and heartbreaking and they’re doing a great job emphasizing it. This is a problem-solution that leaves no one unscathed.

After all, to have touched heaven only to be cast out, because the cruelty of people knows no bounds? Excruciating. Now that the snowball has turned into an avalanche, Fina and Marta need to trust each other above all else if they’re to survive it. Of course doubt abounds. Of course they’re torn, scared and confused. But their trust and communication has never wavered and it won’t do so now. In fact, they need to be more united than ever. It’s the only way to move forward and secure a future together. They’ll find a way, they always do. They are each other’s person, each other’s one and only. And they’ll face everything head on in order to be together. When it comes to each other, there is no going back.

Interrupting briefly so that someone (and by someone I mean Marta) can give Fina a hug. She desperately needs one.

I will say. I have my doubts when it comes to Fina trusting Digna with anything. The reason? They’ve not addressed the fact that she used information about Marta and Fina to manipulate Tasio. So, to me, it feels rather odd having Fina share anything with Digna at the moment (it's not clear to me what Fina knows about that entire fiasco). At this point in the story though? I suppose Fina's pain is growing too fierce and unmanageable and she needs an outlet. Needs to purge herself of some of it. That being said, their scene was lovely. Fina really needed to vent and was in dire need of both good advice and a motherly hug. Therefore, points to Digna for lending her support, understanding and wisdom, as contrary as she may be. She rose to the occasion and was there for Fina and Marta in a time of need.

However, who Fina really needs to vent with? Marta. Even if she feels Marta’s load might be getting too heavy. If anyone can grasp how she’s truly feeling, shares her fears and pain? That’s Marta herself. And she’d more than understand Fina's fears of inadequacy, of feeling overwhelmed and unsettled, insignificant even. This despair is a shared one and pretending it isn't? It's undoing them from the inside out.

Now that the wedding day is fast approaching, the consequences of this marriage are truly starting to sink in. Their time together will be limited, Marta will have to divide herself between her business commitments and, sadly, Pelayo's social and political engagements. And where does that leave Fina? Alas, as she fears, confined to the shadows, alone, waiting to be seen, endlessly waiting for her turn. Given the road ahead mostly signals conflict and heartbreak? It's paramount they communicate without holding anything back. This particular hurdle can only be overcome if they hold each other as tight as possible. Which means they need to have one of their serious heart to heart conversations, one where no avenue is left unexplored, no rock unturned.

And it’s not only Fina who desperately needs to unburden herself with Marta. Marta herself would greatly benefit from baring her soul to the woman she loves. She has, for the most part, managed the art of approaching her impending nuptials like the business deal it is: a cold and detached transaction with many strings attached. She even manages to look at Pelayo and see a friend, of whom she has precious few. However, Fina cannot and won't be able to tackle it all the same way. Fina's not been raised to wear an iron mask, like Marta has. She wears her heart on her sleeve and her sensitive nature is crumbling under the weight of it all.

Besides, Marta needs to let Fina be more involved with the wedding plans, if possible. Sure, she wants to spare her the pain of it all, but it achieves the opposite because Fina feels abandoned and left out, aimless and forgotten. Not to mention this entire thing is playing right into Fina's insecurities. That ever-increasing perception of being small and inadequate, of falling short in every way? Even if it's the furthest from Marta's intentions, it's constantly being reinforced. Fina doesn't belong to the same social class as Marta, doesn't have the same education, doesn't have a business acumen and her only remaining family is Marta herself, whom she can never claim as her wife. Everywhere Fina turns these days? The discrepancies between her world and Marta's have never been as bleak, the contrast never as stark. It’s debilitating and Marta needs to pick up on the distress signals Fina is sending, before it all reaches a crescendo.

And to rub salt in the wound? Leave it to Gema to exult Pelayo's virtues, bask in the class difference between the two families and Fina, then gloat about Isidro having driven both her and Marta to their respective weddings back in the day. Fina's pain while listening to all of that? Unbearable. It felt like watching the light being drained from her. Like @midniteowlet mentioned during one of our talks about the show, Fina is the kind of person who needs to feel involved, needs to feel like she's a part of something. To have her looking so dejected and despondent, then blaming herself for not being stronger? Holding herself accountable for not giving more when all she ever does is give? Getting knifed probably hurt less.

Not to mention she'll feel so alone and out of place at that wedding, on the outside looking in, surrounded by upper-class snobs, witnessing the love of her life marrying someone else. I suppose she can lean on Digna and Carmen, but this paints an excruciating tableaux.

Fina's light is gradually going out and it's distressing to witness. I suppose it's only a matter of time now before both Marta and Fina fall apart, one way or another. More so, they need to fall apart together so they can help each other back up, so they can heal each other from this wound. No one else should be a part of this process but the two of them. They think they are protecting each other by not giving voice to their fears. Nonetheless, it only serves to twist the knife further. Moreover, they know the moment they show weakness, they will come crashing down: all it takes is one word either of them may utter. They're so desperate to be strong for each other they forget their strength always comes from being vulnerable with one another. The dread and stress they are currently under is overwhelming. Way to drive it home with these angst-filled scenes.

I will say? With the exception of Pelayo being gay himself and his social status? There are a lot of parallels being drawn between the Jaime era and this one. Personally I do not think the writer's intention is to revisit old scenarios but to showcase character growth. Marta and Fina have learned from their situation with Jaime and won't fall prey to old patterns. Most likely, they will come together to plan, reassure and comfort. The current, angst-filled scenario is a tool to generate tension and suspense, to keep viewers guessing, wondering and pondering. Marta & Fina have been through a lot together and, as a consequence, they have grown both as individuals and as a couple. Therefore, I do not think there's any intention of recycling old story-lines, but to mark the difference between then and now. There's a before and there is, and will be, an after. They both know who they are and what they want. Any obstacles along the way, including miscommunications or latent fears? It's fuel for angst and character growth and the show has proven time and again how well it handles it when it comes to Mafin.

Special mention to Marta's frailty in confessing Sometimes I go to sleep dreaming that I wake up the next day in a world where no one cares that there are two people like us. It is exhausting to live in fear. Gut punch, writers, gut-punch. Kudos.

Oh well, I'm sure the show won't get as dark as we always think it will.

Ultimately, it never does.

Other thoughts, in no particular order:

After the marriage, Pelayo will go live with Marta at the de la Reina house? How they’ll manage anything with everyone underfoot? No idea. Given the kind of money these families have, this is rather mind boggling. But hey, the more, the scarier. The budget must be really tight. Nothing like living under the same roof as Jesús and Maria while trying to lead a double life. Marta, Fina and Pelayo need a house of their own. Anything else is pure folly. Marta needs to be in Toledo with Fina and close to the company, so it makes sense they would not change location. However, the de la Reina house shouldn’t be an option. The Mafinca is the solution, even if it means Marta & Fina's space won't truly be their own any longer. At least they’d have some modicum of privacy there. Anything but the casa grande.

Carmen not calling Tasio out on his bs and shady maneuvering? Disappointing. Maybe that this will come full circle later on? Or, novelita style, it won’t happen at all. It would be surprising if they let it slide entirely, because Tasio’s betrayal was no small thing. In fact, it upended the very way the business works and has thrown it all into disarray. And if Carmen keeps silent on this? It will be a hard pill to swallow and very unlike the Carmen we once knew. “Once” being the operative word. Her “what have they done to you now”? I cringed, not going to lie. I miss early-days Carmen. Her continued passiveness when it comes to anything Tasio? A let down. She thinks he's qualified for his current position, sans de facto qualifications, that he ought to know his new family's MO, which he doesn't and worst of all, that he should make good with Don Pedro to consolidate his position. It's not only disappointing but getting tiresome. It's as if Carmen's brain cells cease to function when Tasio is around and it's sad to see. Are we supposed to believe no one told her how Tasio got promoted to this current position, that she’s so utterly clueless? And add in the fact he still gave her shit for wanting to get her driver's license? If he sinks any lower he'll be wearing his shoes for a hat. And she’s not far behind. I mean, they have their moments but goodness ... cuesta arriba.

Be still my heart: the Merino bros defending Marta in front of Jesús? Have they had a shot of wisdom? Has hell frozen over? Will wonders never cease? It won’t last, of course. But hey. De las migajas, que el festín nos queda grande. And look at Don Pedro wanting to remove Joaquin from the directorship already, saying he's making a mess of things. How the turns are tabling.

Fina and Claudia’s friendship? I want more of it. Same for Claudia and Tita Manuela: they're so sweet. To be honest, I’m at the point I don’t miss Carmen at all. Not really. Let’s see where this all goes, shall we?

Damián and Pelayo's snippet from the preview? At this stage in the game? I don't think Damian would do anything to jeopardize his relationship with Marta. And that means he needs to look out for Fina as well, because she is Marta's world. Previews, as we all know, are purposefully misleading. I don't think this one is going to be the exception.

[faeryseiko]

Ahead of me || Katsuki Bakugo

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A/N: Hi ! I haven't wrote since 2022 so I'm sorry if this one sucks but please take the time and tell me your thoughts on this one !! It is a song lyrics based fic, I LOVE the quirk I just cooked and might do an AO3 story with it...

WARNINGS : season 7 BIG SPOILERS. death, blood.

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Muffled screams, tears running down soft cheeks.

"If I could, I'd be your little spoon"...

I looked as Shigaraki threw Bakugo's body like an useless doll that he didn't want to play with anymore. My heart was beating strongly fast in my chest. I got up on my feet and ran to his side, sliding on my knees as I did so. I started to scratch my arms, the red powder falling on the hole of his chest.

Quirk name : Philosopher's stone

I kept scratching, normally it wouldn't even take a second before healing. But it didn't this time. I felt my own blood rolling on my arm and saw it going to mix with his on his chest. I heard Best Jeanist next to me as he just saw the student he taught yet learned so much from.

"No. No no nonononono" I started to panic as my eyes watered down. I was shaking a corpse, trying to wake it up. I put my forehead on his and was breathing uncontrollably.

"Y/n-san, with you around, we will not be scared of our injuries anymore. I know we can count on you !"

I remembered Izuku's words, now stabbing me as I felt useless again in my life. My best friend was lifeless before me and I couldn't even bring him back or save him.

My quirk wasn't a flashy one, nor did it help for defense. I had to work harder to prove myself worthy of being a hero. The number of times I felt useless watching my class fight as I could only stand watching on the sidelines. I hate it, I'm thankful for Aizawa that have let me show my worth.

"Your quirk is special, Y/n. Great sacrifices and hard work will have to be done to reach it's full potential."

I was shaking, taking his numb upperbody on my knees as I carressed his cheek with my thumb. His beautiful crimson eyes were now turned a pale pink color and his mouth gaped open to show the last breath he took. I let my forehead fall on his chest.

. . .

"One day, I'll become number one and will beat all bad guys like All Might !"

It was one of these times where Bakugo and I's parents would hang out and we would play in the park together. We were on top of the slides as we practiced our hero poses while laughing.

"I'm excited to see my quirk so I can now start ny hero journey, aren't you Bakugo?" I asked with a smile and to this he nodded with a proud smile.

"I already know mine will be awesome ! You'll just have to wait and see. It'll be so strong that it will surpass even All Might and AH-"

I jolted in surprise and panicked as I saw Bakugo fall from the slide's top. I carefully went down and sat down next to him. He winced in pain as he was holding his arm. After a few seconds, a blue color was appearing and that's when I knew it was broken.

"Bakugo, y-your arm-"

"Shut up I know !"

He tried to not let his tears fall and when I saw this, that's when I suddenly took his arm. I don't know how this happened... Even today, I am not able to reproduce what I did that day, but when I touched his arm, his arm healed itself, but in the process broking mine completely.

Bakugo smiled as he saw his new and healed arm.

"Y/n! Your quirk it finally came-"

His eyes widened, seeing me holding my arm in pain. His smile disappeared and I don't know what he thought at that time. That I had an useless quirk ? That I was pathetic ?

. . .

That day was my quirk's first appearance and I couldn't understand how I did it. I had the properties of a stone made with alchemy. Yet, I couldn't understand them exactly.

"And kiss your fingers forevermore..."

But then, it clicked.

I gently lift up Bakugo and hugged his figure, closing my eyes in the process. I focused on him, I had to.

"but big spoon, you have so much to do..."

Water filled my eyes as I sobbed, hugging him tightly, knowing this was my first and last.

....

I remember when I saw Bakugo and Deku fight against eachother, their first fight when they were teammed up with Uraraka and Iida. I looked in awe at both strenght.

Even though Izuku used to be quirkless, he showed himself worthy for All Might to give his quirk. Bakugo was mad and confused at the time, mad that Izuku had showed up randomly one day with a quirk that was strong. And confused on how it happened.

I was selfish to think that... but with Izuku I felt less alone next to Bakugo with his amazingly strong quirk. I had to work extra harder and might never catch up to them.

I also remember at the festival, against Kirishima I was nothing but an easy target. I have cried that day so hard, I even wondered what I was doing at U.A and why I stayed. Also on why our teacher kept me.

Aizawa taught Shinsou and I to still be strong even with a quirk that didn't give us boosted strenght, rapidity or stamina.

I have made so many good friends at U.A, but I knew that if for whatever reason someone had to leave, they had too much potential, too many hopes and dreams for it to be them.

"And I have nothing ahead of me..."

I have made so many great memories, so many. I felt my chest getting lighter and breathing turned so easy to do. Weights on my shoulder turned into empty ones, you know that feeling before falling asleep ?

And as my chest softly stopped to move, I felt against my ear a heartbeat. By now, I was too weak to great him happily like I usually do.

I wish we had more time, more time for me ask for his help for math homework, more time for him to look behind him to look at me, as if having me helped feeling more confident.

Or more time for me to go shopping one last time with Mina, one more time for Shinsou and I to proudly look at our better fighting forms, one more time to play video games with the squad.

More time so I can admire the developpment Bakugo has made on himself.

Maybe, I can finally be useful to you, Katsuki ?

....

Bakugo's eyes opened softly as he heard Best Jeanist yelling out someone's name. Surprisingly, it wasn't his.

The pain he had felt on his chest left and the blood disappeared, he still felt some weight on his chest. He had a hard time moving, but when he looked down, he saw your h/c hair, your normally e/c vibrant eyes that were now closed forever.

He would call you a dumbass, but he knew you wouldn't hear him this time. He would call you a selfless idiot, because since the day you had your quirk, the coolest quirk he've seen in terms of healing, that's just who you've become.

His eyes watered down. He focused so much onto catching up with Deku that he hasn't looked behind him at the person who destroyed themselves just to catch up to him.

And now, it was too late for him to simply catch your hand to help you run with him.

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song : Your Best American Girl - Mitski.