A collection of Seventeen one shots Requests are open

Choi Seungcheol has it all, generational wealth, a high-ranking title, a nice house with a great view. He has everything but love. Love was the one thing that slipped away from him, blowing away in the wind along with his youth. Just as he's about ready to give in to his mother's wishes of blind dates and arranged marriages, a surprise shows up at his doorstep. The surprise is five years old and has eyes that Seungcheol could never forget. Now, Seungcheol's life is full of toys, tears, the intricacies of kindergarten and another chance for love with the handsome kindergarten teacher.

Junhui wasn't exactly 100% sure he could go 70 days without sex [ thanks for 437K ❤ ️]

BOOK #1 "I'm not just a pretty face, Seungcheol. Underestimate me at your own risk." Jeonghan glared at Seungcheol, stepping into his personal space. "You might be a model, but you've just walked into a whole new kind of runway - my world." Seungcheol husked out as he grabbed Jeonghan's jaw, tilting his head up and connecting their lips. One year, without a single slip-up. That's all Seungcheol needs - a marriage of convenience to divert media attention and stabilize his company. But what he didn't anticipate were the distractions Jeonghan would bring into his meticulously controlled life. The real catch? Convincing Jeonghan, the boy he once rejected in high school, to agree to this arrangement. Can they survive a year of this delicate dance, or will old wounds and new sparks complicate their plan?

[on hold] The lives and struggles of thirteen first responders in a small town.

Small bits of Wonwoo, Seokmin, and Seungcheol through their relationship. posted as a series on ao3 some mature themes and language. some chapters include smut. includes explicit chapters

Seungkwan wants to befriend the talented artist he saw dancing, but it seems the other wants nothing to do with him.

Dirty Air They're supposed to hate each other. The grid expects it. The media feeds it. And honestly? They've never been good at disappointing anyone. Seokmin drives like winter-sharp, controlled, ice in his veins. Mingyu drives like a storm-reckless, electric, impossible to ignore. Put them in the same room and the temperature either plummets or explodes. There is no in-between. Every press conference is a duel. Every overtake is a threat. Every accidental touch feels like a warning they both pretend not to hear. The world calls it rivalry. The grid calls it tension. But under the roar of engines and the burn of floodlights, it tastes like something darker-inevitable, forbidden, fatal. In Formula 1, dirty air is turbulence. Unstable. Dangerous. A force that drags you off the line and into the crash. And in their world, it isn't just the cars that collide.