#but I’ve reached a really good point where i think the narration is there ! the plot is there ! the reader is fleshed out

[wttcsms]

i’ve finally had a breakthrough on my nanami fic that i’ve literally been holding so close to my heart for the past two years. I’ve been struggling on making any actual headway and all i knew is that i wanted it to be well done, and to like every aspect of it, and im so so happy to be able to say we might actually be able to view it together (finally!!!) before this year is over <3

[physalian]

What No One Tells You About Writing #5

Part 4

Part 3

Part 2

Shorter list this time, but longer points. I expect this one to be more divisive, but it is what it is, and this is what ‘no one tells you’ about writing, after all. This one’s all about feedback and how to take it, and give it.

1. Not everyone will like your book, no matter how good it is

I’ve said this before, granted, but sometimes you can have very arbitrary reasons for not liking an otherwise great story. For example: I refuse to watch Hamilton. Why? Because everyone I knew and their dog was trying to cram it down my throat when it came out and I still don’t really like musicals, and didn’t appreciate the bombardment of insisting I’ll like it simply because everyone else does. I’m sure it’s great! I’m just not watching it until I want to watch it.

It can be other reasons, too. I won’t read fanfic that’s written in first person, doesn’t matter how good it is. Someone might not watch a TV show because the primary cast is white or not-white. Someone might not watch a movie because an actor they despise is in it, even if the role is fantastic. Someone might not watch or read a story that’s too heavy on the romance, or not enough, or too explicit. I went looking for beta readers and came across one who wouldn’t touch a book where the romance came secondary in a sci-fi or fantasy novel. Kept on scrolling.

Someone can just think your side character is unfunny and doesn’t hear the same music as everyone else. Someone can just not like your writing style with either too much or not enough fluff, or too much personality in the main narrator. Or they have triggers that prevent them from enjoying it the way you intend.

How someone expresses that refusal is not your job to manage. You cannot force someone to like your work and pushing too hard will just make it worse. Some people just won’t like it, end of story.

2. Criticism takes a very long time to take well

Some people are just naturally better at taking constructive criticism, some have a thick skin, some just have a natural confidence that beats back whatever jabs the average reader or professional editor can give. If you’re like me, you might’ve physically struggled at first to actually read the feedback and insisted that your beta readers color-coded the positive from the negative.

It can be a very steep climb up the mountain until you reach a point where you know you’re good enough, and fully appreciate that it is actually “constructive” and anything that isn’t, isn’t worth your time.

The biggest hurdle I had to climb was this: A criticism of my work is not a criticism of me as a person.

Yes, my characters are built with pieces of my personality and worldview and dreams and ideals, but the people giving you feedback should be people who either already know you as a person and are just trying to help, or are people you pay to be unbiased and only focus on what’s on the page.

Some decisions, like a concerning moral of your story, is inadvertently a criticism of your own beliefs—like when I left feedback that anxiety can’t just be loved away and believing so is a flawed philosophy. I did that with intent to help, not because I thought the writer incompetent or that they wrote it in bad faith.

I’m sure it wasn’t a fun experience reading what I had to say, either. It’s not fun when I get told a character I love and lost sleep over getting right isn’t getting the same reception with my betas. But they’re all doing it (or at least they all should be doing it) from a place of just wanting to help, not to insult your writing ability. Even if your writing objectively sucks, you’re still doing a lot more just by putting words on paper than so many people who can’t bring themselves to even try.

As with all mediums subjects to critique, one need not be an author to still give valuable feedback. I’m not a screenwriter, but from an audience’s standpoint, I can tell you what I think works. Non-authors giving you pointers on the writing process? You can probably ignore that. Non-authors giving you pointers on how your character lands? Then, yeah, they might have an opinion worth considering.

3. Parsing out the “constructive” from the criticism isn’t easy

This goes for people giving it as well. Saying things like “this book sucks” is an obviously useless one. Saying “I didn’t like this story because it was confusing and uncompelling” is better. “I think this story was confusing and uncompelling because of X, and I have some suggestions here that I think can make it better.”

Now we’re talking.

Everyone’s writing style is different. Some writers like a lot of fluff and poetic prose to immerse you in the details and the setting, well beyond what you need to understand the scene or the plot. Their goal is to make this world come alive and help you picture the scene exactly the way they see it in their minds.

There’s writers who are very light on the sensory fluff and poetry, trying to give you the impression of what the scene should look and feel like and letting you fill in the missing pieces with your own vision.

Or there’s stories that take a long time to get anywhere, spending many pages on the small otherwise insignificant slice-of-life details as opposed to laser-precision on the plot, and those who trim off all the fat for a fast-paced rollercoaster.

None of these are inherently bad or wrong, but audiences do have their preferences.

The keyword in “constructive criticism” is “construct”. As in, your advice is useless if you can’t explain why you think an element needs work. “It’s just bad” isn’t helpful to anyone.

When trying to decide if feedback has merit, try to look at whatever the critic gives you and explain what they said to yourself in your own words. If you think changing the piece in question will enhance your story or better convey what you’re trying to say, it’s probably solid advice.

Sometimes you just have to throw the whole character out, or the whole scene, whole plot line and side quest. Figuring out what you can salvage just takes time, and practice.

4. Just when you think you’re done, there’s more

There’s a quote out there that may or may not belong to Da Vinci that goes “art is never finished, only abandoned.” Even when you think your book is as good as it can be, you can still sleep on it and second-guess yourself and wonder if something about it could have been done better or differently.

There is such a thing as too much editing.

But it also takes a long time to get there. Only 10-15% of writing is actually penning the story. The rest is editing, agonizing over editing, re-editing, and staring at the same few lines of dialogue that just aren't working to the point that you dream about your characters.

It can get demoralizing fast when you think you’ve fixed a scene, get the stamp of approval from one reader, only for the next one to come back with valid feedback neither of you considered before. So you fix it again. And then there’s another problem you didn’t consider. And then you’re juggling all these scene bits and moments you thought were perfect, only for it to keep collapsing.

It will get there. You will have a manuscript you’re proud of, even if it’s not the one you thought you were going to write. My newest book isn’t what I set out to write, but if I stuck to that original idea, I never would have let it become the work that it is.

5. “[Writing advice] is more like guidelines than actual rules.”

Personally, I think there’s very few universal, blanket pieces of writing advice that fit every book, no exceptions, no conditions, no questions asked. Aside from: Don’t sacrifice a clear story for what you think is cool, but horribly confusing.

For example, I’m American, but I like watching foreign films from time to time. The pacing and story structure of European films can break so many American rules it’s astonishing. Pacing? What pacing? It’s ~fancy~. It wants to hang on a shot of a random wall for fifteen seconds with no music and no point because it’s ~artsy~. Or there is no actual plot, or arc, it’s just following these characters around for 90 minutes while they do a thing. The entire movie is basically filler. Or the ending is deeply unsatisfying because the hoity-toity filmmaker believes in suffering for art or… something.

That doesn’t fly with mainstream American audiences. We live, breathe, and die on the Hero’s Journey and expect a three-act-structure with few novel exceptions.

That does not mean your totally unique or subversive plot structure is wrong. So much writing advice I’ve found is solid advice, sure, but it doesn’t often help me with the story I’m writing. I don’t write romance like the typical romance you’d expect (especially when it comes to monster allegories). There’s some character archetypes I just can’t write and refuse to include–like the sad, abusive, angsty, 8-pack abs love interest, or the comedic relief.

Beyond making sure your audience can actually understand what you’re trying to say, both because you want your message to be received, and you don’t want your readers to quit reading, there is an audience for everything, and exceptions to nearly every rule, even when it comes to writing foundations like grammar and syntax.

You don’t even have to put dialogue in quotes. (Be advised, though, that the more ~unique~ your story is, the more likely you are to only find success in a niche audience).

Lots of writing advice is useful. Lots of it is contradictory. Lots of it is outdated because audience expectations are changing constantly. There is a balance between what you *should* do as said by other writers, and what you think is right for your story, regardless of what anyone else says.

Just don’t make it confusing.

—

I just dropped my cover art and summary for my debut novel. Go check it out and let me know what you think!

[bluerosesonata]

I played and finished Slay the Princess last night while I was puppy sitting. I had such a great time. She’s my scary wife now.

Spoilers + more detailed thoughts below the cut, but without spoilers:

[points at devs] haha horror podcast fans

I’ve always loved Nicole Goodnight from her first appearances on Nosleep. she did so excellent as the Princess.

Very impressive scope, even with the very definitive ending I got, I came away from the game feeling like there were still paths I hadn’t seen.

Just as a general tone setter, I love the opening card/disclaimer that ends with “This Is A Love Story.”

GREAT visual style and art. I’ll get into this in my breakdown below, but with my amateur eye I love how they took a non-traditional approach to way the images/characters are displayed in a renpy game

INCREDIBLE music.

Hard to avoid Disco Elysium comparisons with the aspects of the Self mechanic, which I’m sure is either a received as a high compliment or is a source of annoyance for the devs, lol

Highly recommend it for OELVN fans, horror fans, and lesbians.

First and foremost, I’m genuinely very impressed at the amount of variety to the paths.

On my first playthrough, I got on a loop where I kept the princess locked up, and then she came upstairs and killed me. The next loop, The Paranoid showed up, and when we went into the basement, it was all spooky and distorted. In this one, we had some great banter with The Princess before I ultimately decided to slay her, and trapped me in the basement by warping reality and removing the stairs, forcing me to kill myself to escape that loop. The Cold showed up in chapter 3, and I think that was when I tried to leave the woods.

In subsequent loops, even when choosing all the choices I made to the best of my memory, I couldn’t recreate that first loop at all. It really speaks to the scope of the game in an impressive way.

The first vessel I managed to provide was The Tower. (It was the outcome of being mauled on your first encounter with her, then perceiving her as a dominating, inevitable force.) After discovering my new objective, the endings I saw were The Prisoner (It’s the ending where you just wait for the cell to rot away around you), The Razor (GOATED route, I will be calling her ‘Knife Wife,’), The Damsel, and ended with The Adversary (devil horns), before reaching Awakening.

These are the only routes I can talk about, but I’m certain there were at least 2 I missed/didn’t get to see. It’s an EXTREMELY impressive scope, and fully voiced, to boot, so my hat is off to the devs on that front.

(The next few paragraphs are about the voice acting, if you want my story thoughts, I made a small heading for that bc my VA thoughts got a bit out of hand lol)

Voice Acting

While I’m on the subject of the game being fully voiced: Nicole’s voice acting really shines here, and it’s absolutely essential to making this game what it was. I think a version of this game without it would be very Good, but not nearly as Haunting. The sheer variety of reads on certain lines based on how you first approach the princess is incredibly impressive, as well. (Again— scope!!!)

As far as the narrator VO goes, i can’t deny that Jonathan did a great job, and with his history of being the main narrator for The Magnus Archives, he was a good fit for the tone and audience of the game. I would even posit that, even if there were other people who were considered in the early phases of development, the cross-promotional potential of drawing in even a small section of an audience already primed for cosmic, reality-altering horror via TMA was a very smart business decision, and I applaud them for it. That being said, I think one unintended side effect of his casting may be that people familiar with his TMA character (a…semi-reliable narrator) might immediately come in primed with doubts about the Narrator. They seem to have anticipated this, though, and included skeptical and suspicious dialogue choices with him right off the bat in the first chapter, which is fun.

(A brief aside: If it seems like I am being very measured with my thoughts on the Narrator, it is not because I have anything negative to say about his performance. I am being measured simply because the narrative devices the game employs makes it impossible to not draw comparisons to Big Hitters like The Stanley Parable and Disco Elysium— both incredible games that I personally would be both delighted and terrified to be brought up when discussing a game I created or a role I was playing.

These games did not Create the idea of “a narrator you interact with and who is sometimes rude to you” or “multiple voices with distinct Traits butting in on your current predicament,” but both games are incredibly prolific in how implemented those devices and the vocal performances involved….so it is not a fair comparison.)

Story Thoughts

The subtitle for this section could also be “Faron ranks how hot they find all of the versions of The Princess.” jk.

I am not going to do summaries here I’m just going to assume most people reading this have played the game.

But let’s start again with the sentence at the beginning of the game: “This is a love story.”

Not long ago, there was a big discussion on tumblr about the statement that horror is “about love”, (it might have even been spurred on by TMA, lol) and that lead to a lot of justified (but not always kind) posts from my fellow horror fans being annoyed by that take. I’ll spare you a rehash of all of that. But it is exactly Because of that discourse (and my general gothic preferences) that I like the choice to open with this a whole lot. The phrase “This is a love story,” written in bold, at the end of a disclaimer saying ‘there are no wrong choices, just different paths,’ has an immense power to it. It is a mic drop way to open up a story, as a way to prime the audience to be open to the Princess as more than a monster, and creates the anticipation for a greater relationship to be uncovered between the protagonist and the princess.

It could also be that the phrase hit my brain in a weird way because of Fata Morgana. I don’t think The House in Fata Morgana had a similar line in the actual game— but my roommate who handed me Fata Morgana very specifically told me, “it is a horror game, and it is a tragedy, but at its core, It Is a Love Story.” And that’s always stuck with me. (I digress.)

A Brief Address to Loops and the Popularity of the Looping Narrative

I could sit here all day and talk to you guys about looping metanarrative structure and the different approaches to it, but you’ve probably all played a VN with that before. (If you haven’t, and this is your first time encountering something like this and it blew your mind…Go play Zero Escape: 999. Run, don’t walk.)

I believe very strongly that reviews should be about what a game Is, and how well it accomplished what it aims to be, not about what you wish the game was. But it is an even stronger opinion of mine that loop narratives, especially in visual novels, can sometimes get too bogged down in the details of “why am i in a time loop.”

I am extremely glad that this game (mostly) avoided this, bc it offers an opportunity to say something about the subgenre as a whole.

At the end of the day, looping narratives mainly exist as a metanarrative device in VNs to acknowledge and offer a reason why your character’s behavior (and/or your choices) change. It’s an easy way to create ludonarrative harmony, and to inject some extra drama with little extra effort.

But BECAUSE it’s easy, it can also feel Extremely Overused, and starts to become an expectation.

I won’t go on a soapbox about it, especially because I feel like this game handled it very well, and the looping, metanarrative aspect is suited to the themes and character subject matter of Beings Who Are Concepts, even if they Why doesn’t really satisfy. At the end of the day, this is a love story, and the why matters less than the feelings involved.

Specific Path Thoughts

All versions of the Princess are incredibly strong concepts, and the game is structured in a way that I very much would enjoy seeing how different people’s first loops influence their opinions on her. It’s got IMMENSE “streamability” in that regard.

Someone that encountered The Damsel version of the princess first would have an INCREDIBLY different experience than someone who encountered the Adversary first, which ties very neatly into the subject of the greater love story and can also generate some great post-play discussion.

I think, undoubtedly, the Aspects of the princess that made the biggest impressions on me were The Adversary (demon wife) and The Razor (Knife Wife). Part of this is due to the sheer length of their paths, as both of them take 3+ loops (correct me if I’m wrong) to reach the conclusion of their sections, whereas The Damsel, The Tower, and The Prisoner all only took 2. (See the next section for more on that). Thinking about it, every path was similar in the amount of sheer resources created for them (illustrations, animation), but these two create the illusion of having more than the others simply due to being the longest action sequences and loops in the game.

The Razor has an OUTSTANDING design, and the sequence to slay her would have been an incredible finale in its own right, as we get introduced to EVERY Aspect of ourselves as we die over and over again, even shoving the narrator out of the way so we can just jump to the cabin and fight her again, and the PC reasoning that “if there’s enough of Me, I might be able to overcome her”. For this reason, and because of the big knife skeleton body, I think that the Razor path is more Fun than the Adversary’s.

Flavor-wise, however, I feel like The Adversary is a much stronger character and narrative thread. A princess who doesn’t want to escape— she just wants a good fight. She wants you at your best, and she won’t have any less. That’s exactly the sort of character dynamic that really gets me going. I love single-minded women, and I love a main character who meets them on their level of crazy.

Both of these paths involve the Aspects of Self “The Hunted” and “The Stubborn,” and they are the aspects of the PC that by FAR have the most color to them (besides the lover, who is more of a buffoon.) I think they were my favorites.

That being said, I adored how exhausted the Narrator got during the Damsel path, and I thought there was a very quiet, profound power in the Prisoner version of the Princess. She had an austere, quiet pride to her, tinged with an undeniable sorrow.

I really do appreciate the variety of ways they provide for one to approach your dialogues with the Shifting Mound after every loop. They really create a lot of space for the player to decide how they feel about her. Even if it sort of bothered me that every time there was a choice to tell her you would slay her once it was all over, I appreciate the option being there. (And, again- the sheer amount of dialogue!! Sheesh!)

Lastly, the finale. It was incredible, going through all of the forms, reliving all of the choices you made. But this is the part that the amount of options started to detract from my experience.

Again- I love that they left a lot of space for people to decide how they feel. I like the amount of responses provided, and I get the impression they don’t change the final choice in any way, just the dialogue she says to get to it.

But it bothered me that there was an option to just…opt out of seeing every vessel, either by submitting to her or by killing her. I can’t see a world where anyone playing a finale like this would WANT to cut the big final movement short. It seems silly.

The payoff was worth it, though. It was a beautiful end and one that definitely will stick with me.

(And Obviously I decided to take her hand and remain endless with her! How could I not!)

Mechanical Musings

Note: I am a dabbler in Ren’Py, but I have been a dabbler for over a decade, and I went to college for game design. (You’re allowed to laugh) I’m not GOOD at programming, and I forget the class names for basically everything unless I’m looking at it.

All of this is all to say I am PURELY speculating on how certain parts of the game were accomplished.

UI/Display/Visuals

The choice to omit a typical text box was an objectively correct one for this game, in no small part to how they decided to do the visuals on this game. It kept the game looking clean and drew the eye to the stunning visuals. The right aligned prompt box similarly aided in that respect, and I think that being forced to scroll down to resist during certain tense sequences was a great touch. Makes me wonder if there’s a timed element on those responses.

The choice to eschew using typical talk sprites (outside of The Long Quiet scenes, the sequence with The Damsel, i thiiiiink the confrontation in the basement maze, and the finale) in favor of using scenes/displayed images really aided in the storybook vibes, and the animated loops they had on those images gave the pencil work an amazing kinetic energy for the scenes where the princess is just standing or sitting still. (For the uninitiated- It’s incredibly simple to program animation loops using static images in RPY, but I’m not clear if that the most memory-efficient way to do so; I’m going to assume they did this though)

The menu Ui is what gives it away as Renpy to me, but you know, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, lol.

I’m sort of surprised there wasn’t anything like a scene viewer or gallery that unlocked at the end, but I guess that might sort of be immersion breaking.

Gameplay

Just from my hobbyist eye, I can tell there’s a looooott of dialogue flags in this one, where they track previous things you’ve said in the scene. There is absolutely a variable for “Princess hostility,” just based on the fact there’s several like reads of her answering the questions you can ask in chapter one, but since I only did a single run where I didn’t pick up the knife in chapter 1, I can’t be sure if it’s points based or binary “has knife = true.”

My guessssss about how the Aspects are inherited is that it might be a point based system combined with a flag indicating how you died; this would explain how I inherited “the paranoid” in ch2 my first run, but never after that.

I can say with almost complete certainty from the way it completely locked me out of deciding to leave the princess locked up after my choice to leave the woods that there is a true/false variable tracker for each path that stores if you’ve reached the Long Quiet or not, bc no matter what I did I could NOT do that again. Either that or there’s a flag where the narrator will lock you downstairs after seeing that screen once.

There’s also probably some variables tied to your appearance changing in the mirror, but i would need to double check achievements to be sure that text isn’t just set to appear after X vessels being provided.

There’s also a distinct possibility there are different “pools” for the princess’ aspects to be pulled from after each “level” of ascension; this would set it up so that it’s impossible for you to end with an event that is only 1 loop long, and it would be easier to assure story pacing that way.

(Ex: “If Vessels < 2, use Event_Pool_A, Else use Event_Pool_B”, where pool A contains vessels that use less than 2 loops to complete)

All in all, if I ever got the chance to crack the hood open on this, I would. I highly recommend it.

[bettsfic]

Hi Betts, welcome back!! Sorry to hear about your residency :(

I really enjoyed your recent ask about what makes a good writer. It came at the perfect time for me because in my first draft my writing looks pretty similar to the second example, and I knew something wasn’t clicking but couldn’t quite figure out what.

I’ve been worrying a lot about being explicit about bodily directions, item placement, and other irrelevant information because I can see the scene clearly in my mind, like a movie, and I feel the need to describe exactly what I’m seeing! But I don’t like it. I know I could do better. I much prefer when I write like in the first example, where the narrator’s personality infuses into the prose and you can “hear” them telling the story.

The trouble is, I’m unsure just how to get to that point. How do I know what information is irrelevant? Is there a way I can write closer to the first example from the get go? It would improve my writing confidence significantly. Is it an inspiration thing? When I’m really inspired I write like in the first example on my first attempt. Could it be how familiar I am with the POV character? I’m currently writing a character who doesn’t have a lot of canon screen time, so I’m worried my interpretation of him and how I explore his character may come off as OOC to readers.

Sorry for the length! :”0 I really look up to you and you writing prowess.

if in your drafting process, if writing those movements comes naturally to you, then you should continue to write them. sometimes you need to write your character crossing a room in order to reach something on the other side, because that's how you see it in your head. the character needs to make that movement to get across the room, and you need that movement to know what's across the room and why it might be important. and later, when the whole thing is done and you're revising it or even just proofing it, you can return to that sentence and ask yourself if it's beautiful enough or meaningful enough to stay. but you can usually only know that once the whole story has been told.

it took a lot of practice for me to let go of my own internal filmmaking in my writing. i was so dedicated to my teal formica tables. i wanted the reader to see what i saw while writing it.

but you can't really control what your reader sees in their mind's eye. you can only control what details they attend to (and why they attend to them). and when you think of it like that, what you want your reader to pay attention to, then relevance becomes easier to discern. if the teal formica table has a crack in the corner, and that crack has a story of how it came to be that would lend context or insight into a character, then by all means, the teal formica table becomes relevant. but otherwise, it goes.

deciding what stays and what goes is always going to be a challenge, though. relevance is never objective. what matters to you may not matter to one reader, and another reader may find it important but interpret its meaning differently. so much of revision is just having a wider frame of reference of your own work so you can assess as many options as you can and choose the right path for your story. and here, "right path" means a final draft that you feel confident about and proud of.

i appreciate the kind words, and best of luck on your fic!

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

God, I'm sorry for asking about snippets all the time, but they are so good that I can't get them out of my head at all 😅 Could you post a longer fragment, no matter from which chapter?

Lol thank you! Honestly the flashback scenes are way less precious to me since it’s just an expansion on what’s already happened (and I plan on just posting all of them on here at some point) so enjoy the longest flashback I’ve written (so far).

******************************************************************************

Spider’s throat was killing him. He’d spent the majority of the day screaming at Quaritch as he tried and failed to feed him. Thrashed against his restraints and snapped at the man’s hands when he’d attempted to clean smeared food from his face. The effort had exhausted him, his empty stomach growling painfully. But it was worth it to see the frustration in Quaritch’s eyes as he fought to keep the calm facade of a patient parent. After three failed attempts at trying to get Spider to eat, each lasting hours longer than the last, his father had finally given up, leaving Spider in peace.

He stared out his open window, the crisp night breeze caressing his face, the sounds of a forest teeming with life lulling him into a doze. Alone, he could pretend he was on a camping trip with the Sully’s, laying on a blanket between Kiri and Lo’ak, gazing up into an expanse of billions of bright stars. A rare smile graced his face of its own accord as he pictured it, so vividly he could almost hear his friends breathing beside him. “What’cha thinkin’ ‘bout tiger.” Though his voice sounded gentille and incredibly tired, Spider startled his limbs spasming against the restraints.

“Fuck! Can’t you make a noise or something!”

“Sorry kiddo,” Quaritch reached out a hand to cup Spider’s face. Spider tried to maul Quaritch’s hand like an angry guard dog. Quaritch sighed, “you looked so happy there for a second. Made me happy just seein’ y’a smile like that. I was just curious what was goin’ through your head.”

“None of your business! Why are you even here anyway? I thought we were done for the day? Did you sneak in just to stare at me like the fucking creep you are?”

Quaritch hung his tired head, shaking it no, “I have something I wanted to show y’a. I look at it when I’m havin’ a bad day and well…this was a bad day.”

“Wasn’t so great for me either,” Spider said, rattling his chains.

Quaritch ignored him, instead holding up a brown leather book for Spider to see, “This is our family photo album,” Spider’s eyes widened, some of his anger being replaced by the longing he buried deep inside, to see the faces of his biological family. Especially his mother. He instantly wanted to see every last page of the book. But it was in Quaritch’s hold. And he was powerless to look through it himself. “Here,” Quaritch opened it to its first page. Spider looked away. Despite how badly he wanted to see the pictures he would not accept this offering from his tormentor. “These are your grandparents,” Quaritch narrated, “Your mama only had this one picture of her parents. They died when she was young. She bounced around a lot after that.” Spider’s heart bled for his mama. He’d never know how similar their upbringings had been. She was probably watching over him completely devastated.

“These are my folks right here,” Quaritch said, leaning in to try and get Spider to look. “Yeah. My old man there was a mean son of bitch, that’s for sure.”

“Is that where you get it from,” Spider said venomously.

“I’d be a lot nicer if you behaved,” Quaritch shot back, his fatigue getting the better of him. Checking his anger he took a deep breath, moving on, “my mama right here, was the coldest woman you could imagine. I really don’t think she wanted a kid but it was expected of her back then. Drank most days. Yelled a lot. I joined the marines when I turned eighteen and never looked back. I only got these pictures because I was sent their stuff when they finally died. I wanted to throw it all out. But I was seein’ your mama at the time. She convinced me to hold on to at least some of the photos. To not “completely erase them. Even though they were terrible.” That’s what she said.” Out of the corner of his eye Spider could just see the fond little smile on Quaritch’s face as he talked about his late wife, his eyes far away.

Spider squeezed his eyes shut not wanting to see that much love on such a cruel person's face. He heard the rustling of a page being turned. Quaritch continued, a little huff of a chuckle escaping his lips as he took it it, “this was when mama and I started seein’ each other. We couldn’t say we were really datin’. I never took her out or bought her flowers or anything like that. But she’d hang out in my office and take pictures of the two of us when I wasn’t lookin’. I think she did that for blackmail honestly but they’re funny pictures now.” Spider wanted to look, he really did. But he couldn’t. It felt like he’d lose if he did.

“And this here is our wedding picture. The ceremony itself wasn’t much but god did your mama look beautiful…” He wanted to see it. “…This was when we were painting your room. Mama has paint all over her but she’s smilin’ like crazy…” It hurt how bad he wanted to look. “…And this is the day you were born. Happiest day of my life.”

Spider couldn’t stand it. “I don’t want to look at your stupid pictures!” He lied. “Just go away already!” A heavy silence fell between them. For a moment Quaritch just sat there. Spider continued to look away. He heard the soft thud of the book being placed on the bedside table. The creaking of the chair as his father stood from his seat. And then his hands were on him lifting him up into a seated position. Spider groaned, all too used to this now but still incredibly annoyed. “Get the fuck off me!” He screamed and thrashed against his captors' hold, knowing perfectly well by now that it was no use but unwilling to give up fighting. Quaritch sat behind him, wrapping his arms tightly around Spider to restrain him.

“Jesus Miles, calm your ass down already! You're tired. I’m tired. Can’t we just relax and enjoy some family time together.” Spider growled at him. To his surprise Quaritch growled back, holding him even tighter. Something about it made Spider feel small, his struggles momentarily ceasing. His father tucked him under his chin then reached for the photo album, picking up where he left off. “This is the day you were born…”

Spider looked away, closing his eyes tight. Quaritch sighed, bringing his legs up to use as a book stand. He then grabbed Spider by the chin forcing him to turn his head. “Miles…” he said in that now familiar parental tone, “….Open your eyes.”

“Or what? You gonna tape my eyelids open.”

Quaritch sighed, “son what’s the point of keeping up the fight like this? Can’t y’a just let yourself enjoy some time with your old man.”

“Can’t you just get the fuck off me and go away.”

“You know you could benefit from being held more,” Spider snarled, “keep provin’ my point son….”

“Uuuggghhh…what’ll it take to get you to go away!”

“Just look at a few god damn pictures would y’a.” It was Spider’s turn to sigh. It seemed Quaritch’s full proof way of getting Spider to do what he wanted was to dangle the promises of solitude over Spider’s head. And it worked every time. Reluctantly he opened his eyes. There were a few different photographs on the page. His mom holding her little bundle of joy for the first time, her face covered in sweat and looking so incredibly tired and yet her eyes were bright with joy, a large grin of absolute amazement on her lips. Then there was one of his father, his smile more subdued but still, you could see him falling in love with the newborn cradled in his arms. And then there was the picture of all three of them, his mama in bed holding him, his father leaning protective over them both.

Spider said nothing as he took it all in. His father tucked his hair behind his ears then hugged him closer. Spider didn’t make a move to fight him on it, or say a single unkind word, too transfixed by the images of the love he was born into. His father turned the page to dozens of pictures of Spider as a newborn, so small, red and wrinkly. The teens' noses crinkled in disgust, “I was an ugly baby.”

Quaritch shrugged, “everyone is. Babies don’t get cute until around six months. Here….” He flipped forward to show Spider himself at six months old. His father was right. With a little time to grow Spider or “baby Miles” had become an adorable infant, huge sunny smiles in every picture, big curious brown eyes, and the wispy beginnings of platinum blond curls. “….see. You were cute.”

Every picture felt like a punch to the gut but now that he had started he couldn’t stop staring. He just looked so happy. Happier than he could ever remember being, aside from his time with the Sully’s. His parents doted on him in almost every picture looking like they were holding the most precious thing in the world. He guessed to them they were.

After being still for so long his father saw his chance to kiss his son on the temple. Spider felt tears in his eyes but didn’t pull away, slumping further into his fathers hold.

[strangefellows]

I’ve been shouting about it on Twitter for the past two days, so I’m going to put it here too:

CANTO IV PART 3 SPOILERS! Or, why the Yi Sang and Ayin parallels in this chapter got me extremely fucked up.

Like. Dear sweet absolute FUCK, I was getting the parallels already from the basics and the fact that both Fourth Match Flame Yi Sang (the outfit) and Spicebush Yi Sang (the eyes) make him look incredibly similar to Ayin, more than he already does with the exhaustion and similar dark hair. But then the dungeon came out and hit me like a warp train.

Like. Okay. There’s a lab. A group of people with like minds that came together to better the city and make people happy, even if it’s just in small ways, under the leadership of someone they all looked up to. Little by little, it begins to crack and crumble apart...and then it is betrayed, raided by City officials. Some people die. Some kill themselves. Some give up and let themselves be caught. Some flee. Some fight back tooth and nail til the very end. But in the end, two people are left alive...one of them completely, utterly broken; the one who had always had trouble expressing themselves and their feelings towards others, but who cared deeply for them.

That broken person ends up in a room, trapped there by their own misery, working on their project, their dream, given in part to them by the person they looked up to-- to the point they’re wasting away little by little, drowning in despair and depression, wishing for the people they loved and the place they felt they belonged. There is a person, the other survivor, who had only ever been there for their sake in the first place, that wants to keep them there forever. There is their other self, who at turns seems to want to help them and seems to want to take advantage of their pain.

Who am I talking about?

Then there is the script-- the scripts Yi Sang left for the others to read, to play out what happened.

Then there is the fact that the dungeon backgrounds are an exaggerated, overlarge tableau of the lab-office in Yi Sang’s memories, similar in no small part to the Keter Suppression’s office background -- and how that white room looks very similar to the white room of the final day in Lobcorp.

Then there is the finale of the fight with Dongrang (who spoke to Carmen by name and whose mechanic, though this is reaching, involves seeds) -- where he has one final conversation with that other self, who encourages him and comforts him and who guides him to the beautiful finale of self-realization: wings made of shimmering light. This reminded me so much of Day 50 in Lobcorp that I almost cried just thinking about it again today.

Then there is the last little bit, that final narration, the last letter from Yi Sang, where he says of the Sinners, paraphrased “I would like to consider them my friends, even if I don’t know how they feel about me”. Maybe a bit of a reach, again, but I feel as if it mirrors how Ayin feels about the Sephirah, though it might be conjecture here.

I’d even venture to point out how this whole canto has Yi Sang’s narration take forefront even over Dante’s in some places, similar to Ayin narrating his own flashbacks. 

There’s just so much there that it’s impossible not to notice after a point. I really appreciate all of it among the insane lore drops about the City and the wonderful character development of the other Sinners beyond Yi Sang, who the chapter stands on its own for without thinking about the parallels and who is now firmly one of my favorite characters in the game. 

(Not to mention the hints about Dante, which considering all of this just solidifies my theory that they’re Ayin, but that’s a whole other post.)

Nonetheless, whether or not my theory is true, this is so good, and what I feel like is just the start of them giving Ayin’s character more room to breathe and context for Lobcorp he never got before.

[whatthebodygraspsnot]

ray baby, do you have any tips for writing really good bdsm/kink stuff? i really want to write something centered on subspace but i’ve never done it before, and you’re the first person i think of when it comes to “really good bdsm/kink stuff” so i figured i’d ask 🥰

oh shit, well thank you! im honored and also wanna point you in @metalheadmickey's direction (who im sure you're already familiar with) because jessie is stupid-amazing at this topic - subspace especially 💙 anyway! tips under the cut 😌

so honestly and frankly, i think one of the biggest mistakes out there is getting too overloaded with action descriptions. what they're physically doing. do you know what i mean? like a step by step "ian picks mickey up. he walks them over to the bed. he tosses mickey down onto it." etc. yes, it's good to know what's happening, but in my experience, it's more about the feeling that comes out of it - the reaction. if you're sticking in the POV of the character receiving the attention, then the reader is going to be "feeling" what that character feels, pleasure-wise.

SO THAT BEING SAID, what works for me personally is focusing on the reactions. the horny swoops. the tingles up their spine. the heat pooling in their lap. and sometimes you don't even have to describe that - if it's an extra potent pleasure, sometimes all you need is an 'oh fuck' or something like that. (ex: Ian gets Mickey's legs spread and dips down and oh fuck... Yeah. More of that...) (pls note this is successful if we're sticking in only one POV. and usually if it's very heavily narrated in the character's voice.)

and since you're talking about subspace, i think it's important to note that eventually things will be drifting into this reaction-heavy narration anyway, as the receiver starts to slip more and more into the headspace. they're probably not grounded enough to be noting every little move being done to them anyway. it's vibes based lmao. and also im sure you know this already, but subspace can take a while to reach, so just making sure the pacing is reasonable is a good idea :)

some things i like to focus on when they reach this point:

- the weight of their limbs/body on the mattress - the emotions being stirred up from this attention (affection, physical neediness, etc) - what's their speech doing? are they still using full sentences? can they express needs? is their partner seeing this and checking in on them?

since it's gallavich, i think there's a HUGE emotional/affection component that needs tending to. i know im a sap, but it just doesn't feel right if it's set in a stage where they're reasonably in love with each other and that doesn't happen. (aus are trickier - i understand.) they don't have to be falling all over each other, but the sex just hits better when they're able to show some emotion, you know?

okay what else... this is long...

🗣️🔊AFTERCARE!

honestly i would say just go for it. let your freak flag fly and don't worry about it being perfect right off the bat. think about things that feel good for you under those circumstances (if that's your thing) and just trust yourself. the fandom will eat it up regardless <3

okay love you, i can't wait to read <3

[just-jordie-things]

your writing is so so good do u have any tips? hope u have a great day! ^^

i’ve never been asked this before! i had to think about it!

a biggie take your time finding your style- as you can see on my masterlist i have a looot of shit on there from years of writing fanfic and experimenting. getting out of my comfort zone can be kinda hard for me personally, but with writing it was so worth it bc you can really see a metamorphosis there of when i was writing just to write and when i was writing with a drive.

don’t be afraid to ignore the rules of grammar. run on sentences are beautiful. i’ve found that especially so when the plot is driven by someone’s stream of consciousness as though they’re narrating it. thoughts are messy, they’re long and sometimes awkward and there’s no such thing as grammar in your mind !! of course spelling and punctuation are important and i’d recommend editing tho (idk her 😳) but get creative with it!!

thesaurus.com is my bestie 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 i often find myself using a lot of the same words and i don’t want to bore readers with repetitiveness! and also it’s just an easy way to expand my vocabulary too. (in person i stammer and have the reach of a fourth grader lmfao so i always want my writing to be concise and make the reader feel exactly what i want them to with my language)

also something i’ve started doing recently !! when i’m away from my wip and daydream about it, i write it down right away! in my notes app or on sticky notes or even my hand hehe. sure if it’s a significant enough plot point i’ll probably remember… but there’s no time like the present!! i want A to look at B a little differently in that one quick scene? i want to make them eat something different for foreshadowing? little details like that can be huge in your writing !! something a reader might gloss over but then realize later it was all a part of a greater scheme?? yes. so take note of those thoughts and daydreams you have !! even if you don’t end up adding it to your work, it’s better than having a profound, fic changing idea that you forget before you get the chance to write it!

this one is simple but a biggie- think about what you would want to read. i’ve been trying to keep this in mind as of late, especially when writing longer pieces where i want to make y’all suffer. find new ways to build the tension in your plot. give us different points of view, give us an untrustworthy narrator that thinks they’ve got it all figured out. throw in extra conflict. fanfiction is the melting pot of whatever the fuck you want !! so go stupid go crazy and make it something you love, and you should be good to go!! not to be cheesy but as long as you love it then you’re solid. doing something you love over and over will naturally lead you through growth and finding your style. don’t be wrapped up in notes right away (yes it can be a bit of an issue on this app- but none of has have control over how people enjoy your work- so you might as well focus on enjoying it for yourself) because as long as you’re doing something you’re passionate about and sharing it with us, more people will soon flock to enjoy it with you <3

lastly i just enjoy making mini playlists for whatever i’m currently working on. they don’t have to correlate completely with your plot. sometimes the sound of a beat is good enough for me to throw it on. if it gets me excited and planning out scenes i haven’t gotten to yet then it’s good enough for me!! i will listen to the same song on repeat in the name of ✨vibes✨ even if the words themselves have nothing to do with the plot i’m writing. that’s probably lazy basic advice but it works well for me and i love listening to music so !!

i hope this helps, and i wish you all kinds of luck as you explore this hobby for yourself !! it can be so freeing to get lost in your own work, and tbh sometimes i feel a little cringe about writing fanfiction but… i just adore it. it’s my favorite thing to do and when i think like that i stomp it down bc i’m proud of my work! i’m proud of how far i’ve come and i’m eager to see what i can push myself towards next!!!

happy writing, happy reading, and if you ever need more help i’m happy to do the best i can for ya! this goes for anyone, please always feel free to reach out even if you just want to talk brainrot. making friends thru this hobby is amazing bc like-interests are 💞🩷

xoxo ~ jordie

[writtenonreceipts]

Hi friend! How are you today?

I have an idea for a multichapter fanfic but I've never written one before and usually my fics are are more or less 1.5k words long and oneshots. I wrote a oneshot of around 3k once, but that's it. I don't know if it is because English isn't my first language and because I've been told once that I tend to focus too much on descriptions instead of narration, but it looks like to me that I have some sort of "summarizing style" 🥲 also, I write with fear of commitment to long-term fics, as I tend to loose focus and feel drained by the idea of writing so much. Even if I enjoy sitting with my laptop and write a lot (it's satisfying reducing the zoom on Word and watch how many pages I've completed 🙈)

Please, do you have any tips about not fearing a project? How did you stay focused writing FTLOTG and any other multichapter fic you have? And which is the minimum word count for a chapter, in your opinion?

Thank you for reading my ask!

Hey friend! I’m doing well, kept thinking today was Monday when in fact, it is not, haha! So I kept being pleasantly surprised tomorrow is Thursday, thus almost the weekend…any ways

Thanks for reaching out!  As usual once I start talking I don’t shut up.  Made worse that this is written and no one is here to physically restrain me from continuing…take what I say as it works best for you!

First and foremost, all the encouragement and excitement I could possibly rain down on you, I am right now.  Multi-chapters are so much fun, but it is a bit terrifying to take the plunge with.  I think the most important thing to remember is making your style your own and using that to your advantage.  There’s no right or wrong way to tell a story and finding what works best for YOU is the most important part.

Admission time—I am always terrified.  I have been writing for a long time now—not just fic.  I’ve written a few OG novels in between fic and such and really?  It is scary!  Especially when it’s a longer project that you are excited about and really want to share but worry about how well you’ve written or if anyone will like it or if you’ve just wasted time.  (Spoiler: I don’t believe you’re ever wasting time when you’re creating/writing.)

The more I’ve written the more I’ve come to the unfortunate conclusion that plotting is actually really good for your story.  I usually love starting with my random idea (Aelin is a journalist and has to put up with Rowan being a jerk and the tension that flares between them) and just going for it.  FTLOTG mostly came around by me flying by the seat of my pants, only planning when I had to.  When I knew how it was going to end, that’s what gave me a little better direction on the in between.  But if I had taken more time to actually plan that story and work on expanding the plot and characters, I think I would have been more satisfied.

Plotting and outlining also are great ways for you to stay excited and see where the story comes together.

SWAK is one that I’ve plotted out a bit and I can see where different development points have to come in.  Feyre and Rhysand bridging the gap of hating each other?  A hurt comfort scene of Feyre having a nightmare can help with that and open up more ways for them to be vulnerable together.  So now I know how to make the next few chapters a bit more interesting while working with the main plot of the stalker.

Finding these side plots and development features can be a lot of fun and add to the main story so much!  I love the little scenes that at first don’t seem that important but in the end really show off a character’s development.  Like in FTLOTG, Aelin taking Rowan to Malakai’s shop for the first time, how vulnerable that made her but left room for the two to grow together in that moment.

I don’t think there’s any proper word count limit for a chapter, really.  Each chapter can serve as a mini story arc and when the arc is done, it’s done.  I usually tend to aim for 3k words though.  For stories like WWB WWG when I’m trying to get a lot more in (and trying to move plot along a little quicker) I extend that to 5 or 6k words.  But really?  It’s what feels right to you.  I would suggest not cutting off without giving a certain lead in to a fade to black.  Unless it’s a cliffhanger…if that makes sense.  Sometimes abrupt endings just leave a sour taste when there’s nothing BIG happening.  Make sure things are cohesive and work together within the chapter, you could almost consider a chapter a mini-oneshot.  If a chapter feels complete at 1k, that’s it.  If you need to expand some scenes and it gets a little longer, great!  Generally I would say no less then 1k, thought.

But really, and I cannot emphasize this enough, do what works for you! 

Again, sorry, I probably just dumped so much on you that you don’t even care about…I just like talking about writing, haha.  Anyways.  You are going to do great!  The most important thing is to have fun and write for yourself.  If you are proud of the story your telling, that’s all that matters.  Also, your English is great <3

[possiblyaworldbuilder]

Now it is Tavàr (hehe) to talk more about:

Music!

Buckle up cause this is going to be a long ride

So I’ve talked a little about this already. There are these spirit like kinda beings that connect so to say to the souls of living creatures. The name I’m currently using for them is ‘singers’ (I’m probably gonna change it at some point.) Together they make music and sing.

Which looks like this circling above everyone's head. Little more on this later.

Now it will probably become more unclear from here but I'll try my best to make it comprehensible.

Let's start with what the music is about. This is different for everyone and it is about a lot of different things, always changing and growing through life. The music and song are about the life of the person primarily and is both unique to them in lyrics and sound. This means the song sings about things that person has done or experienced in their life. In normal everyday situations this might just be almost narrating in song what they are doing at that moment. Other times it might sing about things that had a bigger impact on their lives, from single experiences like getting into a fight to longer periods of time like being around someone you like a lot. Really anything that is important to the person will be reflected in their song. Other people are very common to be reflected into someones song. When this happens it's common that for example that the other persons rhythm and/or melody shows up in their song. If this person is very important that it could become a standard part of the first persons song.

Now the music will also reflect emotions. Not only in the words that are sung, but also in the sounds or instruments, the rhythm, the melody and the volume of the song. If a person is happy, their song will sound happy. If they are really happy, their song will also become louder!

"But then everyone can hear me being very sad!" You cry (maybe idk) Well yes, but actually no. See, your song by default is only audible to you. (Yes you do basically always hear it but if you live in Yídràl you're used to it). But only if your emotions are strong, or if you purposefully make it louder will others be able to hear it.

Wait that's still an issue then if you want to be very sad without people knowing! (This, btw, is less common on Yídràl though reaching out is a lot more common there for most people in part due to the music.) Well good news! most people have enough control over their singers that they can keep them quiet if they must. This is not really that different from just hiding your emotions normally, just with an extra factor to keep in mind. The stronger the emotion, the harder it becomes, though. Outbursts in music do happen and they get very loud.

Hey. Still with me?

All that was just music from an individual perspective. But on Yídràl, music is a social thing! How do singers act in these social situations?

So as I said in another post, people sing and make music together all the time. Their singers will join in with the fun and add to the music being made. For example at a job with a lot of physical labour, different types shanties are very popular, and while the people themselves might be singing, their singers will add the sound of various instruments or extra background vocals. In a situation like this, singers often don't circle above their own persons head anymore but circle freely together through the group of people. When the workers from the example are done and going home, the singers will return to their own individual.

Usually this is pretty harmoniously, where everyone sings together and amplify each other. However, sometimes you have people who think they are better than others, and one way they try to express this through music. See it is possible (albeit difficult) to get other peoples singers to amplify your music similarly to singing in groups but without the others wanting to participate. This is also often done by nobility, high ranking military and rulers to show their power. Often with people with high status people don't resist and just sing along with them. In cases where people don't necessarily have higher status but just want to assert themselves people sometimes don't resist and pretend to willingly join them in the song. When people do this it is because they don't want to be embarrassed for not being able to resist, or just to avoid conflict. When people do try to resist it becomes a bit of a fight for 'dominance'. In Tèràl cultures this is a more toxic side of society that is seen as a good thing. Showing dominance that way is encouraged even. It should be noticed that this is not a gender specific thing, the Tèràl don't care that much about gender. People of any gender 'battle' like that if they want to establish dominance and this toxic ideal affects everyone.

Now this post is getting looooong so I'll spare you a little and split it up in two parts again. Needless to say I have a lot to tell about music. Kinda like it's a big thing in my world huh? Well I hope it's as interesting to you as it is to me! Thanks for reading and I'll be back with the rest soon!

Havéja!

[mengyao]

4 and 16!! :)

4: Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

from the letter to nmj in the last chapter of foowd:

I hope you would wish me well. I want to believe that you do, even if what I’ve become is unintelligible to you. All I can hope is that I will succeed in making myself unintelligible for reasons besides doing things that appall you. I still have some good qualities. Some of which you used to bully me about lacking! I’m certainly wiser than I was. More patient, too. I have developed somewhat of a sense of responsibility, and am much more independent and capable. But all of that has been true for years. The newer things… let’s just say that there are fields inside of myself I thought I salted, where things have taken root nonetheless.

this letter was some of the earliest stuff i wrote in the fic, because it was grafted from a scene cut from an earlier (canon era) fic, but it wasn't in letter format then, and it of course shifted a lot to fit this specific story. this paragraph was written much later.

even though this isn't how story structure works, i kind of consider that fic as having three "climaxes"... one being the flop proposal/sangcheng breakup, one being the eleventh-hour sangcheng makeup, but in between them is the part where nhs writes the letters... this one feels like the real climax of the fic in some ways. not in terms of tension but like. emotional weightiness rating????? nhs just could not have gone on to say "fuck it, i want to be with the person i love even if it means i can't fake my death and go into the self-imposed exile for the rest of my days that is the only way i've been able to conceptualize/justify quitting my job and taking the L permanently on the person i was supposed to be," if she hadn't come to some degree of peace with the fact that she'll never know what nmj would have made of these choices. if it feels like a betrayal of family/sect/etc, that all gets symbolically fixed into grief and guilt about specifically nmj, and that's the real barrier here--not anyone else in the world at large, really. but it felt like a very delicate needle to thread because i emphatically didn't want nhs' arc re: her family/nmj to come across like "realizing that your family sucks and having a victorious fuck-you-guys-i'm-out moment," because that would be severely out of character and also the nies' problem is not Bad People but intergenerational dysfunction and reverberating tragedy. so "i love you and always wanted to make you proud and am having to accept the risk that i wouldn't, because i have to believe that you loved me and wanted me to be happy more than you wanted me to be the person i should have been"--not specific to gender but everything else, of course--was the point i needed nhs to reach. which ig i decided was going to happen when she woke up at 5am to write some emotionally raw lettermail a few hours after breaking up with the guy she's actively in love with and then having a total meltdown about it.

the story having an epistolary motif was partly because i'd early on thought that the idea of sangcheng doing ye olde racy texting was funny and charming, but also i knew that the fic was not going to work unless there were opportunities for huaisang's real thoughts and feelings to occasionally surface through the tides of bullshit, and that was easier to do through in-universe writing than either dialogue or pov narration. and i couldn't come up with a less clunky way to get some overt closure/finality over the nmj stuff, but needed to, because it was like such a looming but intangible part of the story.

so anyway. um i made myself cry typing up this blurb about my own fanfiction which goes to show why i'm so proud of this bit in particular... because regardless of whether it worked for anyone else, it has consistently gotten me very emotional to think about/work on so i'm getting what EYE wanted out of it!!!!

16: Tried anything new with your writing lately? (style, POV, genre, fandom?)

lots of things, actually…

it's not that "writing an unreliable narrator/POV character" is new to me but something i'm messing around with on beefleaf #2 aka The Big One is shi qingxuan (who is the POV character) like… being a very active presence in the story As A Story. you know this post?

like that.

who's the audience? shi wudu? he xuan? both/neither? us? who knows!!!!! we'll see if that sensibility makes it into the final product but i'm enjoying playing around with it for now. it compels me because sqx, unlike most characters people think of as "unreliable narrators," is not manipulative in a meaningful way. they're not TRYING to lie to you. it's just... you know. hard to look things in the face sometimes, right?

the other thing that sticks out is that i've got not one but two wips at the moment that deal with sexual violence in some way, which i've shied away from in the past because of worrying that people would be weird about it, but i feel strongly that these are at least, like, the kernels of good ideas? we'll see how they fare in my execution lol. but also, like, xie lian's character arc is, among other things, About Sexual Autonomy And Violence in a blatant and textual manner so this doesn't feel particularly outre in comparison (they're both beefleaf but you know. operating in the same ballpark. shi qingxuan and he xuan both have certain obvious parallelismssnhdsm with xie lian so it's all In Conversation imo.)

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I just re-listened to Daniel Kitson’s It’s the Fireworks Talking, and then wrote a post about it. In the process of writing that post, I Googled some stuff, and I found this thing that I don’t know how I’d never come across before. It’s the sort of thing I should have come across. It’s Alice Fraser on a podcast that seems to be about screenwriting, in an episode dedicated to discussing stand-up comedy. This episode also discusses Hannah Gadby’s Nannette, Bo Burnham’s Inside, Alice Fraser’s Savage, and Ali Wong’s Baby Cobra. I’ve seen all of those except the Ali Wong one, and I’ve been meaning to watch that Ali Wong show for ages because I’ve heard it’s very good. I know all those other shows I’ve just listed are very good, so I will, at some point soon, listen to that whole podcast episode. I’m sure they say fascinating things in the rest of it.

For tonight, however, I didn’t listen to the whole episode. I just listened to these 27-ish minutes, in which they discuss Daniel Kitson’s It’s the Fireworks Talking. It feels like an absolute privilege to hear a comedian as talented and intelligent and insightful as Alice Fraser break down what Daniel Kitson does. It also renders everything I’ve done entirely pointless, and make me feel genuinely a bit embarrassed to have written an entire post with my shallow thoughts about this thing, while having no idea that Alice Fraser already has it covered. At no point does the world ever need to hear my thoughts on an issue, if Alice Fraser has covered it already. I am not going to have anything useful to add. No one should read my post about that one, just listen to the actual Daniel Kitson show, and then listen to Alice Fraser talk about it.

It’s really, really cool to hear her on this. Obviously she had a bunch of good observations, my favourite of which is:

He’s using very specific and precise language. Where, in vernacular speech, you might use an approximation or a more common word, just to be more comfortable, or because you can’t reach for the word in the moment, he is using the exact right word. You know, he won’t say, ‘a screwdriver’. He would say exactly which screwdriver it was – it’s a Phillips head or it’s a… it’s microscopic in terms of what he’s doing. It’s a very close focus on the specifics of each scene that make it seem – if you’re thinking in filmic terms, it’s hyper-realized. It’s hyper-focused. It’s almost slow motion. It’s very intense, that specificity of language, and the rapidity with which he delivers it, the smoothness with which he delivers it, gives you this feeling of intensity, and hyper-reality. It’s a very arresting way of using words.

Yep. That’s exactly what Daniel Kitson does, put into much better words than I’ve ever heard anyone use to describe him. No one gets Kitson right, the way reviewers or other people talk about him is always so weird and kind of pointless. No one has the guts to try to actual break down how he does things, because he’s so good that no one who isn’t also brilliant can understand why it works so well (which is why, again, I’m really hit by the absolute pointlessness of me having ever said anything about it). But Alice Fraser can do it.

She also had some really interesting comments about the shifting perspective he takes, between a character in the story, a narrator, and an observer. And what type of character he appears to be. The way he plays with his own perceived status level while on stage. His absolutely excellent audience control, and the way he can make anything that happens play into it. His ability to be in control of an audience is so ridiculously strong that it’s difficult to describe in a way that captures its scope, but Alice Fraser describes it perfectly.

She talked about Kitson in terms that are just as reverent as the weird sycophantic reviews he gets, but she actually knows what she’s talking about and can be precise about why it’s so special. I’d never actually heard her talk about him before, though I’m not surprised she’s a fan. In fact, I’d be very shocked if I learned she weren’t a fan. Alice Fraser’s stand-up shows are the only things I’ve ever seen get compared to Daniel Kitson, in which the comparison has made me think, “Yeah, that makes sense.” She’s very, very good, like Kitson, but there are also enough stylistic similarities so I think it’s actually justified, rather than just reflexively comparing everything good to Daniel Kitson. I didn’t need to hear Alice Fraser say that Kitson’s been an influence on her, to know that Kitson’s been an influence on her. I can hear that in her work. But it’s really cool to hear her actually talk about it, and understand it so well.

I’m just really impressed, having listened tonight to such a brilliant show and then to another brilliant person say insightful things about it. It’s cool that there are such brilliant people in the world right now.

[alfgifu]

Fic analysis 29. The safe path

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50830963

Word count: 3,482

Chapters: 1

First posted: 14th October 2023 

Summary: 

Conju watched warily as Cliopher demonstrated the correct approach to cleaning and preparing a fish. He had not anticipated the exercise, when he agreed to accompany the Hands of the Emperor on this excursion into the Liaau.

How and why this came about

The prompt challenge theme for 14 October 2023 was ‘dreams and nightmares’ and I wanted to write something that drew on The Game of Courts, which Victoria Goddard had released the day before.

That meant Conju pov, and I wanted to do something that dwelt on his relationship with Cliopher, which is the focus of the last part of GoC. I had always assumed, and had held in the background while writing the Embers fics, that Conju found Cliopher attractive and Cliopher entirely missed his flirtations. GoC made that dynamic canon.

Across HotE and ATFOTS Cliopher seems to think of himself as a man who is only attracted to women, but he shows us a significantly greater focus on and appreciation of male physicality. He describes the best features of his male friends in loving and occasionally thirsty detail and seldom mentions anything at all about the appearance of his female friends or lovers. Between that and the way his sexuality works in canon - unstirred until someone directly propositions him or unless the Moon is groping his boss - it seems entirely plausible that he would take a male lover under the same conditions he has taken female lovers: casual (since his devotion is reserved for his Radiancy), springing from a close friendship, if directly asked.

Conju is high aristocracy and would make overtures that Cliopher is likely to miss twice over - for their subtlety and for being cast in the idiom of Shaian court culture. So I needed to get Conju into a position where he was startled enough to be blunt. Waking after a nightmare, in need of comfort, seemed like the perfect opportunity.

Fortunately, Conju’s life is richly furnished with nightmare fuel, so there was plenty of material to work with.

What worked and what didn’t

Conju’s snippy inner narration is ridiculously fun to write. Conju, on a camping holiday, is pure joy. He’s so prickly about it! But also absolutely determined to do this thing well, because if Cliopher can then so can he. He’s not going to be shown up by any bumpkin.

The part that worked best though was the nightmare. I cheated of course and mixed in elements of nightmares I’ve had myself that left an impression. The imagery of dead gardens and encroaching jungle, and Conju’s history of trauma and addiction, all came together really neatly with how disconcerted he might be to be in a tent near so many trees. And that casts all his earlier prickliness in a new light - he’s not just out of his comfort zone and gritting his teeth, he’s directly confronting some of his worst memories.

I stopped at the point when they’d reached an understanding, mostly because of time constraints - the prompt challenge fics were revealed at (UK time) 8pm each evening and I didn’t have time to think through and write the actual sex or for that matter the moment they’re both back in the Imperial Apartments again and HR casts a doubtful glance between them and tries to figure out if something changed.

On the whole I think it works better to stop here though, it keeps this story focused on Conju and on that moment where he and Cliopher break through their mutual misunderstanding and think - yeah, maybe, this is good.

What I learned from writing it

This was the inaugural Conju/Kip AO3 tag fic which I was honestly surprised by at the time. But I think that’s partly because the canon Conjubook came out so close to the character I’d sketched in Embers. I’d always thought there was an interesting possibility there between him and Cliopher (and I know I’m not the only one) but of course that took on a whole new life after Game of Courts.

I was quietly pleased with myself for having a fic ready to go the day after the book was released - though there were a few factors that made that easier, like the book being a novella, the timing aligning with a day when I had some writing space, and the dynamic being one I’d chewed over before it became canon.

It’s hard to say what I specifically learned from this fic. More about these characters, definitely. More practice in tightening up my prose (through all these prompt challenge fics). A more deliberate structure. But no big eureka moments - I wrote it, was pleased with it, and moved on.

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

Hi ! This blog has one year. I don’t think this is gonna be very interesting for someone else, but I still wanted to make a recap post.

You’re more than 100, which is a number that lots of writing blogs can pull out in a month a lot more than zero, which is crazy.

The tragic backstory of this blog is that I’ve made it because I was incredibly burned out. Check the first post if you like. This was written by a guy who couldn’t take a deep breath without a long nap after. My first objective is not to ruin my health and take it as slow as possible, through gritted teeth.

I had a writer’s block, too. But if I am to believe the file where I put all my blog snippets...

Yeah. That took care of that. (For now, anyway.)

the typos the typos the typos so many typos aaaaaaaaaaah I’m so sorry - I really hope my English got better, but…

I love writing in English though. Perfectionists, try to write your story in your second language. Not only it’s cool – it’s the equivalent of saying “I’m not left-handed” in a duel – but you’re forced to go straight to the point. It helps !

It’s my playground. I don’t write to make good snippets, I try to make fun snippets. Viewing things that way helped a lot. If it doesn't have to be good, I’m free to experiment more.

Of all the things I’ve written here, ““Muahaha”, they said in a polite effort to keep the conversation alive�� might be one of my favorite sentences. (From here)

Tags might be the greatest thing on this website. I cherish them. Obviously, I love reading yours, but I love writing mine too, giving you behind-the-scene comments and/or bullshit jokes. Sometimes it’s the first thing I write.

The first time I’ve ever tried to write second-person narration was on this blog. Apparently people don’t like it very much, but I think it’s pretty fun.

I am hilariously bad at guessing what you’ll like. I’m dead wrong almost every time.

Fun fact, These two dorks nearly never existed. I hated the first post featuring them, I thought it was awfully written and was ashamed of it. When I decided to finally post it, dozens of readers tugged my sleeve to say “we like this”. And I was baffled, but...sure. I kept on. I still don’t like this post, but I’m fond of the series now.

Chairs are the bane of my existence, so when I read lots and lots of snippets where people are forced to kneel because it’s submissive and stuff, my eyebrow lifts very high. Cue this snippet. Cue more than a hundred of readers tugging my sleeve to say “we like this”. S...sure ? Vampire Hero jumped into action.

Basically dear readers, though I’ve obviously done the work, without your support the reoccurring characters here would never have existed. Thank you.

Unfortunately it goes the other way, too. I’ve deleted a couple of things I was fond of but weren’t read (that’s one of the reasons why reblogging is important btw). I’m very fond of detectives and I wanted to write a series featuring a detective/thief, but since I’ve only had a bunch of notes for these snippets, I’ve set aside the project. Maybe one day ?

Tumblr is allergic to names, but most of the recurring characters actually have one.

My fantasy snippets are not read much, but they’re still fun to make. I’m not going to stop them. I’m grateful for the H/V community but it’s never gonna be 100% what I make.

Have I told you how much I love notes and tags and comments ? People who interacted in any way, people who liked dozens of snippets in one go, people who reblogged and even took the time and effort to write tags or a comment, people who left asks, you are noticed and appreciated.

Lurkers, I don’t begrudge you. I was one of you for years and years and years. I’d love to hear from you one day, but if not it’s okay. I know how hard and overwhelming it can be to reach out.

I know, I’m a hypocrite. I don’t reblog enough myself – or interact altogether. It’s not you, it’s the lack of spoons. Truth is, since I had this blog, I read much less because my energy is taken elsewhere. Either I write either I read, it’s hard to do both.

I don’t follow you because I fucking hate the dashboard. I avoid looking at it as much as I can. It’s an overwhelming sea of information with 90% irrelevant posts and 10% that disappear when you want to find them again and it gives me a headache every time. Sorry! Again, it's not you! I should change that, but it’s gonna take some time.

Readers, I can’t thank you enough. This silly blog helped me so much. It helped with my writing and creative process in general, it helped me go through some pretty bad days. It’s such a comfort to know that real actual people around the world are willingly reading the stuff I’ve made. It’s an incredible feeling and I’m still not over this.

The first six months were great. I loved it. These six months, less. This site seems to get progressively worse. Maybe I should find a second Internet place (all suggestions are welcome. I know nothing about this kind of stuff.)

I don’t intent to go, though. I want to try many, many things. I can't tell you more in case I have another block or something, but there are projects, so- stay tuned?

[nonnonblog]

The Ridiculous Umbrella of Mr. Lerin

Hello there! I’m sorry, I’m a bit late, but I wasn’t certain what I wanted to post today. This story is one I’ve had on the back burner for a while, as when I first wrote it I wasn’t sure if it was what I wanted it to be. Now, after rereading it and editing it a few months later, I think it is ready. Its different in tone than what I normally write, but it still has the same style. I hope you all enjoy… The Ridiculous Umbrella of Mr. Lerin!

The Ridiculous Umbrella of Mr. Lerin

The lights flickered overhead, as the man slouched in order to avoid coming in contact with the ceiling. Erin looked up at this… creature of a humanoid, as it finally reached him. All light from the electric chandelier disappeared from the ridiculous size of this man and his pointed umbrella. It was a ridiculous umbrella. It was long enough that the man could use it as a cane. Erin wondered how much of the sun was swallowed when it expanded.

“H—hi, Mr. Lerin! W—welcome, we, ah, we…”

Mr. Lerin crouched down, so that perhaps he could mimic a normal height. But Erin was a child, so the kindness just felt patronizing.

“Where is your mother,” Mr. Lerin asked without really posing any question.

Erin pointed. It was easier than trying to overcome the whole talking thing.

The light returned, as Mr. Lerin left the room. It was flickering unsteadily, though it always had done that. At least it was there!

“You all good, sonny?” a cracking, pitched voice asked from one of several shadows the room had to offer. This voice was dwarfed by the one that had come before it, the one that still lingered in the room like the stench of wet wool.

“Y-y-yes, yes I am,” Erin told the ghost. There were a lot of those in this house. He didn’t know all of their names, though this one was named Asper.

“Excellent, that is good to hear.”

So yes, there were ghosts here. Two kinds, in fact. You’ve met both.

Let’s call them G1 and G2.

G2, or Asper, as Erin called it, was one of those idiots that only hid in shadows. Who didn’t accept the fact they were only sort of dead, who hoped to move on so much that they never fully took advantage of the fact they had a second chance. I recognize that definition is unfair of Asper, as Asper is almost a G1 at this point, but that is just a display of Geoffrey’s Theory. A G2 will become a G1 with time. An idiot can’t be an idiot forever, eventually they have to act.

Okay. As you might have guessed, Erin is not the narrator. I wish he was. No, I’m Arnollo Lerin, sadly. And yes, I have confidence in that my umbrella is ridiculous in nature, just as my height is ridiculous. There should be a limit to a man’s height, as eventually you’re just challenging the mountains, and I am terribly confident that I am not as good looking as those big rocks.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Lerin! Welcome, welcome. I’m sorry if Erin was caught off guard by your appearance, he isn’t used to your type of visitor,” Angelica announced as my back bent further to get under the doorframe.

“He was caught off guard, but I wouldn’t blame him.” I looked around the room, spinning in a slow, messy circle. The place was filled with bronze gears and silver keys. “I see your work is coming along nicely.”

“Hopefully, hopefully.” Angelica smiled, and shook her head, “Anyways, dear Lerin, do you have what I requested of you?”

“I do not, actually,” I shrugged, a movement emphasized by the length of my arms, “hopefully it wasn’t important.”

“Mr. Lerin!” Angelica stepped forwards, towards me. She had a woodcarver’s knife, which was not a terrifying tool, but in the hands of this specific individual it was foreboding. It felt longer than it was, closer to my neck than it was. “You of all people know that is just not the case!”

I nodded, careful of the motion so that I did not crack my skull against the ceiling. I did have an uncertain alliance with ceilings, which I did not wish to disturb. “I do know. But I also know that, as of this moment, I quit.”

“Quit!” Angelica laughed, twirling her knife in a lackadaisical arc from one hand to the next, “fancy yourself an independent, do we now?”

“No,” I brought up my umbrella, so that it was between myself and this hollow woodcarver, “just dependent on something else.”

 “Mm.” Angelica nodded, “I suppose, though you’d be wrong. I have contacts, Lerin. I know how the world works. You don’t.”

I nodded, “I know.”

“No, you don’t, dear. If you did, you would stay in your place. You already failed this game called life once, you really shouldn’t attempt it again.”

I nodded again. “You’re right about that. But that is why I’m a G2. I’m too stupid to figure out where I’m supposed to go next. Right?”

Angelica raised an eyebrow. “Geoffrey’s Theory?”

“Yes.”

Angelica opened her mouth again, but I was done losing this conversation so I stabbed forwards with my umbrella. It hit my former boss in the neck, and her neck collapsed in on itself as I poked a hole right through it. Angelica stumbled back, touching the spot I had just made, and glared at me. Her lips moved, but no voice came out.

“You know, if you were truly hollow you wouldn’t have a voice box anyways,” I pointed out.

Angelica thrust her knife to the side, and I saw a glimmer of silver to my left. Already close to my neck. I reacted as calmly as I could in such a scenario, and opened my umbrella. The resulting blast of air pushed Angelica back, her shoulders cracking along the wall. Her strike halted, hopefully. Hopefully.

I could still breath, so yes, it had. But that was a temporary solution. I couldn’t see her now. There was a giant umbrella very much in the way.

I struggled to get the umbrella closed, before Angelica could get another strike ready. 

    But it was too long a struggle. 

        Yet the strike never came. 

The hollow woodcarver was actually defeated. Well, this version of her, at least. Huh. What in the heavens do I do now?

I barely registered myself as I opened the door to the closet, letting the table stuffed in there crawl on out. It bumped into my leg in thanks. I moved to walk on out of the house, but stopped halfway. For there was a child in the way.

“What was that noise?” the child asked, for once not afraid.

“Me killing your mother,” I said. It was blunt, but I don’t think there was a better way to say that. “I thought it was necessary?”

The child just stared, not comprehending. A ghost, the Asper fellow, moved in between me and Erin.

“Good choice,” I said, smiling slightly, “protect the child. Congratulations! You’re now a G1. Anyways, I will leave you both alone. Just don’t chase me down and kill me in vengeance, and we’ll be on good terms.”

I moved a solid arc away, going around the edge of the room. The table— the one from the closet— was still following me. Not sure why. I left the house, and it was raining. I wasn’t going to use that umbrella of mine, because I didn’t enjoy fighting things that didn’t really affect me. The street was long, lit by a rhythmic series of slumped lanterns. Forward bound I was, I guess. With my new table.

It was always an experience, seeing a G2 gain the confidence to become a G1. Someday I will get that title as well. But for now, I’ll just stick to my own. Ridiculous height, ridiculous umbrella, as some wise woman once told me. A dead wise woman I’m leaving behind, but a wise woman nonetheless.

The End

If you are interested in reading any more of my other pieces, please consider checking out my website, the Non-Non-Blog, through the link below!

[cheolkanojo]

inhales. exhales. okay, i have SO MUCH TO TALK ABT SO LET’S GO (had to put the read more just bcs)

okay before i start this is actually kinda stupid but you did say to go all out on screaming abt this fic so I DID. INITIALLY. ON THE TAGS. AND THEN TUMBLR DECIDED TO GIVE ME THE “YOU REACHED 30 TAGS!” POPUP. WHICH WAS ANNOYING BCS I STILL HAD SO MANY THINGS I WANTED TO TALK ABT. so here we are.

secondly, pls do forgive me for not having replied to your reply(?) on my comment the other day (i’ve read it but haven’t got the time to reply back </3 but ur so sweet i hope you always get nice comments ily) BUT I AM BACK TO SCREAM ABT THIS MASTERPIECE

okay that’s enough rambling from me, LET ME START.

I ALRD SCREAMED FROM THE BEGINNING LIKE WHAT WAS “AND SEUNGCHEOL LIKES RED”??? HUH???? FUCK OFFFFF GURL YOU ARE WHIPPED (and so am i) IM LOVINGN THIS DEVELOPMENT

and god fuckign dammit THEY ARE HOLDING HAAAAANDDDKSHRKSHFSJDJ NO WAY THIS IS WAYyyYyYY TOO CUTE!!!1!1! and the whole dinner part with team svt (and dae and yejun <3) is so, so sweet. i love team svt. i love their friendship sm. I LOVE HOW CHEOL JUST SITS BACK AND ENJOYS THE ATMOSPHERE. IM ACTUALLY CRYING THIS IS SO CANON HE LOVES THEM SM

THIS PART THOUGH “you wonder if he’ll ever look at you like that in the future” MY GOD. AAAAAAKADHSKFHEKFJSKD I CANNOT. I CANT. AAAAAHNANDSJDJS 🥹🥹🥹🥹

also this is a must mention: SUGAR DADDY CHEOL. HE IS SO DAMN HOT??????? GOD DAMMIT. i think i literally just MELTED AT THIS PART. FUCKKKKK daddy pls pay for my food and bills too i am broke

now to the part where you just GAVE ME A FULL EXPERIENCE OF AN EMOTIONAL ROLLER COASTER RIDE. AAARHENDHSSKFHD THIS HURTS SO MUCH… BUT ALSO I CAN FEEL SO MUCH LOVE FROM SEUNGCHEOL… he’s so sweet… i cant do this anymore… /pos

(also i rly rly want to point this out, but the way you narrate how they hold hands in the car… it’s rly sweet. got me crying. i love these two sm)

ah yes. THE PART WHERE CHERRY (it’s almost awkward writing my own name but it also got me squealing every time cheol calls her “cherry” bcs it’s technically MY INTERNET PSEUDONYM) THINKS ABT ALL THOSE ✨DOMESTIC THINGS✨ WITH CHEOL. IT’S SO GODDAMN CUUUUUTEEEEEEEEE 😭😭😭😭 (I HOPE WE GET TO THE PART WHERE THEY ACTUALLY DO DOMESTIC THINGS TOGETHER INSTEAD OF JUST DREAMING ABT IT ASAP) (or not. i love slowburn) she’s so adorable with cheol. I LOVE HER I LOVE THIS DEVELOPMENT (99)

(also can i just say… “my pretty girl” ahaha… “my” ahahah… “MY pretty girl”… “my PRETTY girl”… FUCK OFFFF /POS)

her relationship development with seoah is also super, super sweet (im sry rip vocabulary i only know the words sweet hot cute and “i love them sm”) and i love how seungcheol has some sort of an impact there… 🥹🥹 i rly cant wait to see more of her and seoah!! (and dae!! i miss her)

ALSO WHEN SHE GOT THE UPPER HAND ON CHEOLLLLLLLLL OH YESSSSS WE LOVE THE DEVELOPMENT HERE (937493)

ALSO(2) ASSERTIVE!CHEOL MAKES AN APPEARANCE HELLO????? AND CHERRY’S JUST SO OBEDIENT EXCUSE YOUUUUU THIS IS TOO MUCH FOR MY HEART AND SOUL (every time cheol has his hands somewhere on cherry’s body and every time they hold eye contact esp when cheol holds her chin just got me 🫠🫠🫠 melting into a puddle 🫠🫠🫠🫠 this is it im beyond saving)

also!!! (3) i just wanna say i really, REALLY love the reader’s character here. have i said that? idk, but i will say it again and again. I ADORE HER SO MUCH 😭😭💞💞💞 (and cheol. your writing of cheol is without question, RLY RLY GOOD. i love u)

in conclusion: this chapter was AMAZING. a huge emotional roller coaster ride, but i loved every second of it 🥺✨ soft!cheol made LOTS of appearances here, and he rly made me melt and cry and screaming into the pillow. i love him. i love the way you write him. i love their relationship. (and i just wanna say i adore the way you write in general?? your narration is SOOOO GOOD. definitely gonna read all of your other fics when i have time!! ♥️)

anyways. yeah. uh. this is a lot. i hope you don’t mind all of my screamings and random side comments here and there 😭💦

thank you so so much for writing this fic, for putting your effort into each and every word. i hope you have a great day (or night) and once again, cheol loves you 🫶🏻💞✨

pretty please (stay with me) || c.sc | 3

“After being assigned a fashion show for your big senior project, you set off to find volunteers to make it successful. However, when you meet Choi Seungcheol and his unfriendly clique through your volunteers, you realize they’re an unwanted package deal you can’t escape from. Can you handle Seungcheol’s obnoxious friends, and can he handle your brash behavior?”

🍒 Pairing: businessMajor!Seungcheol x fashionMajor!Reader (afab)

🍒 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Slice of life (!!!), slow burn, drama, fluff, angst; Unrequited enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, college au

🍒 Warnings: General tws + mention of death, mention of divorce, sugar daddy seungcheol (we love to see it)

🍒 WC: 12.6k

🍒 Betas: Sarah, Indi, Kelly, Freya 💖

🍒 Author’s Note: Already halfway through the series! Thank you for all the support I've gotten so far! (no I won't stop saying thanks bc I'm grateful for you all!). I'm really relieved people like it since I enjoyed writing it a lot ♥️

also read here: AO3 | Wattpad

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

previous chapter \\ pretty please masterpost // next chapter

You sit on the edge of your bed, legs bouncing with anticipation.

He will be here any minute, and like before, you’re suddenly self-conscious of your outfit. You didn’t change it as many times as you did last time, but you still thought hard about it. You end up donning a black faux fur tube top, high-waisted black pants, and black heels. 

Your red pumps are an option, but you think they’re too much—a little too dressed up for a simple dinner… But then again you are wearing a top that resembles a fuzzy rug, so the outfit is already borderline “too much.”

And Seungcheol likes red.

Your eyes dart to the discarded shoes in the corner. Does it matter that he likes red—on you, to be more specific? If you wear those, will he think you wore them for him? Do you want to wear them for him?

As the questions tumble into your mind, you barely register your door opening.

“Honey?” your father asks gently.

Your head pops up to see him entering your room. “Yeah?”

“How late are you going to stay out?” he wonders.

You give him a quizzical look. He rarely questions you on your outings, let alone the duration.

“I’m not sure. I can bring home some food for you and Seoah,” you offer, thinking he needs you to bring back dinner since you will be gone.

“No need. I’m going to take her out once you go,” he replies.

You’re never good at hiding your reactions. Your eyes widen slightly before narrowing. This is odd coming from your dad.

“What’s the special occasion?” you wonder. You can’t recall the last time he took you both for food or just out in general.

“There’s none,” he says. You stare at him in silence as you take in his appearance. His usual eye bags are still present, but he looks more freshened up than you’ve seen in a while. It also looks like he put some effort into his outfit.

“Are you dying?” you ask, thinking he is trying to leave a positive impression before he leaves this earth.

Your dad’s eyes enlarge. “No, no, I’m healthy. I just,” he sighs. “Seeing your mother again made me realize I haven’t been very attentive to you and your sister.”

“This isn’t the first time she’s come back though,” you reply, confused as to why this time is different.

“I know. I can’t really explain it right now,” he says. “Are you going out with Dae?”

“Yeah—” a buzz from your phone “—she’s here.”

You stand up from your bed. “We can talk later, if you have time.”

“I’ll find some time,” he says. You aren’t sure if that is really going to happen, but you don’t want to ponder on that now. “Come back safe.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. Talking to a caring dad has your mind-boggling. You want to feel like your father is actually going to be in your life, but he’s been out of it for years, so it’s hard to imagine that changing.

Your father nods and makes his way out of your room. 

A knock at your door startles you from your daze. Before you can overthink the decision, you hastily kick off your heels and replace them with the red pumps. You apply a layer of matching lipstick, then toss the stick in your purse while you jog to the front door. Though what you see isn’t ideal.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ln,” Seungcheol greets respectfully.

“You as well, Seungcheol,” replies your father. You can’t see his face from where you are, but he sounds friendly. Not that he shouldn’t be. He has no reason to be hostile. You just aren’t sure if he’ll try to play the tough dad or not.

Plus, a part of you worries Seungcheol will be able to see past the “perfect family” facade and see all your imperfections.

You gently push your way in front of your dad, turning to face him with your back to Seungcheol.

“I’ll see you later,” you tell him and nudge him inside so you can close the door better.

“Now, just wait a minute, Yn,” he says and looks over your shoulder to Seungcheol. Your body tenses. He is not about to give the whole get-her-home-by—

“—by eleven o’clock. I trust you’ll keep her safe.”

Seungcheol doesn’t appear to be bothered by your father’s little protective speech. Instead, he gives him a reassuring smile. One that a gentleman would wear and one you aren’t used to seeing from him. Normally you get teasing grins.

“Her safety is my top priority,” Seungcheol says earnestly.

Oh God, now you’re stuck between a rom-com conversation.

“Great. Now that you’re both done going through your lines, can we go?”

“Lines?” your dad questions. You aren’t about to waste any more time explaining your lame reference to common daughter-father-date discussions. Not that Seungcheol is your date.

“Is that Seungcheol?!” Seoah’s voice rings behind your dad. Not her, too.

“Yup, it’s slang, bye Dad!” you quickly say, and instead of shoving him back inside as you planned, you turn and shove Seungcheol down the stairs.

“Hey, wait!” Seoah calls out and zips past you to Seungcheol. Seungcheol stands at the bottom of the steps, eyeing you with confusion at your strange behavior. He looks at Seoah when she stands at the top of the stairs.

“Hey, Seoah,” he waves at her. 

What did she do to deserve one of his dimple-inducing smiles?

“It’s good to see you back,” she beams, a grin on her face.

“You too,” he chuckles.

“Back?” your father asks.

Your attention zooms in on Seoah, and you hope the silent glare you give her is recognized by her. Her mouth drops open at the realization.

“I mean, it’s good to see your back! It’s nice,” she corrects quickly, gesturing around his body. “It’s, erm, wide and cool.”

“His back is wide and cool?” echoes your father slowly in puzzlement.

That’s enough.

Seungcheol laughs, his obnoxious little deep “ha’s” ringing in your ears. You quickly grab his arm and start to drag him away. 

“Have fun at dinner,” you say to your family while you briskly walk away.

Despite Seungcheol being strong enough to pull himself out of your grasp, he lets you lead him to his car.

“Do you think my back is wide and cool too?” he teases.

You whip around to look at him, pausing in your trek. You’re standing a little too close than you intended. “No, I think it’s mediocre and dull.”

He laughs again at your response. You flicker your eyes to the sky as you take a deep breath.

“Not another word,” you warn before guiding him to his car.

Your hand is on the passenger’s side handle, ready to pull it open, but Seungcheol stops you. He gently pushes your hand off before placing his own on the handle.

“I’m perfectly capable of opening your car door myself,” you grumble, arms crossing over your chest.

The corner of one of his lips raises. His eyes drop to your lips briefly.

“I know, Cherry,” he says, then averts his gaze back to your eyes, “but I’m chivalrous, remember?”

He pulls the door open and nods to get in. You narrow your gaze at that, wanting to challenge him on if he truly is.

“Can you guys stop flirting and get inside? I’m hungry,” Dae’s voice pulls you from your staring contest. You forgot she will be in the car already.

“You heard the lady,” Seungcheol murmurs to you.

“You’re going to get this heel stuck so far up your ass, Choi Seungcheol.”

He chuckles and leans in closer, voice dropping so only you can hear, “Sounds kinky, baby.”

You push down the fluttering of your heart at the pet name because you refuse to let him get away with that cocky reply.

“If you both don’t get in now, I’m leaving you guys and taking the car,” Dae threatens.

You glare at Seungcheol for a second longer before lowering yourself in the seat.

“Finally,” Dae mumbles when Seungcheol climbs in.

“Sorry, there was an… incident that delayed us,” you say and set your purse in your lap. Dae leans forward, placing a hand on your arm to turn you toward her.

“You don’t look sick,” she observes to herself. You scoff and brush her hand off you.

“Because I’m not,” you say.

Seungcheol starts driving as you speak with Dae.

“Are you sure?” she wonders.

“Why would you think I’m sick?”

“Because you apologized.”

You peer back at her, unamused. Dae just smiles.

“She also says please now,” Seungcheol chimes in. You groan at his addition and press your back into the seat. Your feet almost kick like a kid throwing a tantrum, but you hold back that urge.

“Well, now, she’s always done that…sort of. Have you been saying please more? I’m shocked. What about your ‘thank yous’? You haven’t forgotten those right?” Dae asks as if speaking to a child.

You sigh loudly, making it as audible as you can so they know how annoyed you are. Apparently, all Seungcheol’s outings result in your misery one way or another. “I’m not agreeing to any more of your invitations, Seungcheol.”

“I doubt that. You like my company too much to refuse,” he replies. He doesn’t appear to be bothered one bit by your statement.

“Does she now?” Dae wonders aloud. You don’t like where her mind is wandering to.

“Hush it, you two. The only tolerable one here is Yejun,” you huff, having seen him for a second when you glanced at Dae. He was on his phone then, but now he’s sitting back enjoying the bantering between you all.

“I’m honored to hear that, Yn,” he teases.

Even though the car ride consists of Seungcheol and Dae teasing you and Yejun, you’re grateful to get your mind off the troubles you’ve been having lately.

When you arrive, you quickly open the door and step out before Seungcheol can open it for you.

“I beat you this time,” you gloat as Seungcheol comes to stand by you, locking his car once the others are out.

There’s a small bounce to your step when you exit that causes Seungcheol to give you a warm smile, eyes staring at you with tenderness. 

“That you did, Cherry.”

Your elevated shoulders deflate while a pout takes over your features. His reply is too casual. You had expected something more witty.

“While you two do a round two of flirting, Yejun and I are going to go inside,” Dae says before wrapping her arm in Yejun’s and leaving you both by the car.

She walks away too fast for you to reply, so you turn to Seungcheol. He wears a red turtleneck, black pants, and a black leather jacket slung over his arm. The shirt hugs his body nicely; it outlines his muscular chest ever so slightly and makes you yearn to see more. His hair is styled a little to still look natural but gives it a different appearance. He’s really handsome tonight. Red seems to be his color as well.

“You’re not going to wear that?” you wonder while pointing to his jacket.

He shakes his head. “It’s too hot right now.”

“Then why did you bring it?” you ask, eyebrows coming together.

Shrugging, he takes your hand in his. Your first instinct is to pull away—startled at his sudden touch. You’ve never held his hand before. The act seems a little too intimate… Makes you feel a little too warm.

Nevertheless, you keep your hand in his. The feeling is rather nice if you’re being honest with yourself. His grip is firm to make the grasp feel secure but not too tight to be suffocating. It’s as if he’s just naturally used to having a strong grip on things.

“We don’t want to keep them waiting,” he says before making his way to the restaurant. You stay silent as you walk next to him.

“I’m glad you listened to me,” he comments when you are near the entrance.

“Huh?” you ask, glancing up at him.

He gives you another smile and reaches past you to hold the door open.

“Red still looks good on you. Even if there’s only a little of it.”

So he did notice.

You tear your gaze from him at his compliment, heart beating quicker. You can’t keep it steady even if you try. You feel a little proud you decided to go with the shoes after all. 

You mumble a ‘thanks’ before walking inside. He follows behind you, greeting the host. The host gestures to where your friends are all seated before wishing you a good dinner. It almost looks like they are a group of people celebrating something, but you know they aren’t. There are just a lot of you. And of course, the two empty seats happen to be next to each other at the end.

“Hi, Yn! Hey Cheol,” Joshua greets. When everyone notices you, there is a chorus of hellos. The large welcome has you smiling, not used to the friendly attention. 

All the people who are helping you with your project are here, plus a few others. They make you promise not to talk about the show before sitting down, claiming you need a break from it. You want to protest as you can talk about whatever you want, but they have a point. You probably do need a mental breather. Thus, you agree to their conditions.

You sit between Seungcheol and Wonwoo, who you just met. He’s a film production student and like Vernon, keeps mostly to himself. Despite that, he isn't shy to engage wholeheartedly in the conversation if he is passionate about the topic. You also meet Jun and Seungkwan for the first time—Seungkwan being the more outgoing of the two.

Seungcheol’s friends are a lively bunch, and although his business friends can get rowdy as well, their energy just doesn't match this group. It’s more relaxing, carefree, and so easy to slip into. However, a part of that can be because you don’t feel like you’re on defense the entire time.

For the first time in years, you are surrounded by people you thoroughly enjoy—without the stress of being the best, viewed as being the enemy, and the pressure of keeping your family together with tattered strings. It’s all so… alleviating. Comforting.

Seungcheol keeps his arm hung over the back of your chair as you attentively listen to his friends. Sometimes you would feel his hand on your back and would turn to see if he needed something. He always shook his head and nodded back to who was speaking—sometimes it was multiple, and you just picked the closest conversation you could hear.

You’re so used to hearing Seungcheol’s voice that you don’t realize how quiet he can get. At first, you’re concerned, but you realize he’s enjoying sitting back and watching his friends have fun. You don’t know how long he’s known these people, but from the fond look in his eyes, you know the duration doesn’t matter. They mean a lot to him.

You wonder if he’ll ever look at you like that in the future. Like you are someone he cherishes and adores. Suddenly, you want to try everything in your power to achieve that.

Once the food arrives, you figure the noise will quiet down. That isn’t the case. The table is still chatty even though it should be filled with munching. You suppose this is the pros of being with a large group.

Seungcheol had moved this arm so he could eat, but he put it back when he was done. When his fingers graze your back for the nth time, you finally peer behind you to see his hand. You giggle as you realize he’s been playing with the fuzz of your top the entire time.

“Sorry,” he sheepishly apologizes and retracts his arm from your chair. You grab his wrist, guiding it back to where it was.

“It’s fine. It’s nice,” you murmur.

“And cool?” he taunts, referring to Seoah’s attempt to hide the fact that Seungcheol had been to your house before.

You scowl at him half-heartedly before turning away. In spite of the loud environment, your ears still catch his low chuckle behind you.

Not once this night did Seungcheol put on his jacket. He never came close to needing it. Nevertheless, he didn’t hesitate to drape the material over your shoulders when he saw you shiver for the third time. There’s a tiny part of you that wonders if he brought it just for you. Though that’s a reach as he wouldn’t have known what you were wearing. You could have brought your own.

Despite feeling warmer, you miss his hand touching your back. Sometimes it would tickle your bare skin whenever you moved a certain way; it had shivers running down your spine. It could’ve been because of his cold hands, but you knew it was more because of his skin touching yours. You’re tempted to remove his jacket just so you can feel his touch again.

“Hey Yn,” comes a voice behind you suddenly. You glance up to see Jeonghan. He leans on the back of Seungcheol’s chair to look at you.

“Hi,” you greet. He’s sitting on the other side of the table, so you wonder what brings him over.

Jeonghan glances down at Seungcheol, one hand on his shoulder. “Seungcheol.”

“Jeonghan,” answers Seungcheol suspiciously.

“So, I heard you’re paying for some people’s dinner,” Jeonghan trails off.

Seungcheol leans forward to move away from the man.

“Emphasis on some,” he replies.

“One more won’t hurt, right?” Jeonghan asks with an innocent smile on his face; however, you know that grin is more devious than it appears. It means trouble.

“Hm, you’re right,” Seungcheol answers, then glances past you. “I’m sure Wonwoo would love a free meal.”

Jeonghan whines at his reply. “Not him! Me! Pay for mine, buddy?”

“No,” Seungcheol says with a small laugh.

“Seungcheol’s paying?” Soonyoung’s voice rings out from across the table. Their conversation, albeit not loud, catches his attention. Or perhaps Soonyoung just has a keen ear for the words “pay,” “Seungcheol,” and “free”.

“No!” Seungcheol says, louder than before.

“Seungcheol’s paying?” More voices resound this time, all heads turning toward Seungcheol.

“No, I’m not,” the man in the center of attention declines. He sends a glare to Jeonghan.

“Isn’t he so generous?” Jeonghan says, disregarding Seungcheol’s answer, and goes to wrap his arms around Seungcheol. The latter man has no choice but to accept the hug as he is trapped due to the table.

Whoops, hollers, and thanks reverberate from the group.

Your eyes scan the table. It’s covered in plates. Sure, a few meals aren’t too bad, but paying for a table of sixteen is absurd. Perhaps they’re all joking with him. Though, when they all begin to file out of the building without opening their wallets, you know they’re serious.

Seungcheol stays seated as they leave, informing you both they’ll wait outside. 

You stare at Seungcheol in shock. You figure he’d be infuriated, but he looks relaxed still. Almost as if this isn’t the first time it’s happened.

You grab your wallet from your purse, plucking out your card and holding it out to him.

“I can help pay,” you say. Seungcheol glances at your offering. He smiles at you and pushes your hand back.

“I appreciate that, but don’t worry about it, Cherry.” He sounds amused as if you just offered him a popsicle rather than money.

“But this is way too much for you to pay alone,” you argue.

Seungcheol doesn’t let you see the bill and pays for the meal swiftly. However, you don’t need to see the total to know it’s a lot of money.

“Seungcheol,” you scold when he doesn’t listen to you.

He chuckles and slides his card back into his wallet. “Put that away, and let’s go, baby.”

He gestures to your card still in your hand before standing up and adjusting his clothes. It takes you a few seconds to move, still dumbfounded by him actually paying for it all and affording it, and him calling you baby. Despite him only calling you that three times, it still has the same effect it always has.

Not that you are counting.

He takes your hand in his again as he walks out, thanking the host once more.

“There’s the man!” Seokmin greets him with open arms when he sees Seungcheol.

Seungcheol shakes his head in disapproval, but he has a smile on his face. “You all owe me now.”

“You say that every time,” Seungkwan calls out.

“Exactly. You all have a tab open,” he says.

“We were thinking of getting some ice cream, you guys want to come?” Chan asks.

Seungcheol glances at you before saying, “I’ve got to get her home, sorry.”

“What?” you ask. “No, you don’t.”

“It’s almost eleven,” he answers. You sigh and shift your weight.

“You don’t actually have to get me home by then,” you say, remembering your father’s words.

“Yes I do,” he argues. He looks at Dae and Yejun before you can reply. “Do you both want a ride back?”

“Nah,” Dae says. “We’re going to get another one.”

“Alright. See you all later,” Seungcheol raises a hand in farewell.

“Thanks for paying!” Mingyu exclaims, a bright smile directed toward Seungcheol.

“It was nice to meet you, Yn,” Wonwoo says.

“Get back safely,” Jun adds.

“Thanks,” you answer and then peer at Seungcheol. He’s giving his last byes. Dae catches your gaze, giving you a big grin and a few eyebrow wiggles. You roll your eyes at that and send her a small wave as Seungcheol starts to lead you to his car.

When your friends start driving past, waving and shouting goodbyes while they leave the parking lot, you slow to a stop.

“Why don’t we go with them?” you ask.

Seungcheol raises a brow. “You want to go?”

“I don’t see why not,” you shrug. Truthfully, you don’t want the night to end.

“You like hanging out with them that much?” he teases.

“They’re not that bad,” you mutter, “and ice cream sounds nice.”

He lets out a breath as if in realization. He slides his hand from yours, which you are about to protest, and then drapes it around your shoulders.

“I’ll get you ice cream on the way back, okay?” he replies and continues to his car.

Seungcheol keeps his promise, stopping by a place to get you both a double-scoop cone for the drive. Compared to the last time you were in his car, this ride is a lot more relaxing. It’s quieter since Dae and Yejun are absent, but the music on the stereo fills the small space.

At a stop light, Seungcheol fishes his phone from his pocket.

“Come ‘ere,” he says, lifting the phone up at an angle.

You peep up while licking your ice cream. “Hm?”

“Smile,” he instructs and puts his cone in the frame.

Your gaze drifts to his phone, a puzzled look on your face just in time for him to capture a photo. You’re a second too late to understand what he’s doing.

Seungcheol laughs at your unreadiness.

“Hey! That’s not fair,” you whine and nudge him.

“That’s not my fault. I told you to smile,” he says. He sets the device in the cup holder when the light changes.

“But you didn’t give me enough time to do that,” you grumble.

Not wanting him to have the upper hand, you retrieve your own phone. You lift the device, both your faces on the screen but only you are looking at the camera. Seungcheol is focused on the road, so you quickly take a photo.

“Did you—? Okay, that’s not fair. At least I told you to smile,” he laughs when he hears a click, taking a quick peek at you.

“We’re even now,” you smile as you click on the picture in your gallery. Seungcheol’s side profile can be seen in the background. His tongue is poking out to take a lick of his ice cream. That part was unintentionally taken, but you find the candid photo endearing.

“For now,” he replies, lips in a wide grin.

Your hands are sticky after you’re done with your treat, so you dig out the hand sanitizer in your purse. Seungcheol gives you his palm upon seeing the item. You laugh softly and place some in his hand as well.

Everything feels so normal. It doesn’t help that he places a hand on your thigh so naturally that you can’t find an excuse to move it. At some point in the drive, you start playing with his hand, running your fingertips across his skin and toying with the ring he wears. You don’t even realize you are doing it until he slowly pulls away to put the car in park.

“Did you have fun?” he asks quietly.

For once, you don’t shy from the truth with a sarcastic answer. “I did. Thank you for inviting me.”

“Again, it wasn’t just me. They wanted you there,” he reassures with a kind smile.

That’s weird for you to hear, and you aren’t sure how to respond. You still can’t wrap your mind around the fact multiple people wanted to be in your presence. You mean, it wasn’t just yours, but normally people give you side-eyes when you’re near. Or perhaps you just feel like they do.

“I’m glad you came,” he says before turning off his car. “Now, wait while I open your door.”

You watch as he walks around the car and comes to your side. You want to disobey him, just to rile him up, but you decide to let him have this win. In all his chivalrous glory, he holds out his hand when he opens the door.

“Thank you,” you giggle as you take it and climb out of his car. He keeps his hand in yours leading you to your house.

“You don’t always have to walk me to the door,” you say.

“I can’t see the door from where I park,” he replies.

“You don’t need to?” you answer, but it comes out more as a question due to your puzzlement.

He chuckles and squeezes your hand. “Of course I do. I won’t know if you made it inside safely.”

“That’s kind of you, but—”

He turns around to face you, stopping you in your tracks

“I meant what I said earlier. Your safety is important to me,” he says, eyes locking onto yours so you can see his seriousness. Heat rises to your cheeks. You try to bite back the smile though it’s no use.

Seungcheol stares at you with gentle eyes.

“I like seeing you hap—” he starts.

A loud noise startles both of you, forcing you to move away from one another. You expect to see Seoah or your dad watching from the windows, but you don’t see any faces hiding behind the blinds.

What was that?

Another loud crash.

You don’t like the doom that creeps into your mind. Worried about your family, you rush to the door—only to find it slightly ajar. That doesn’t seem good.

“Seoah? Dad?!” you call out as you push open the door.

“Yn, stop!” Seungcheol urges and runs after you. He grabs you before you can get farther in. He moves you quickly so you are behind him.

“Get out of my way, Seung—”

“Who’s that?!”

You peer around Seungcheol to see your mother, a random knickknack you have around the house in her hand. Your eyes shoot down to the floor to see shattered glass.

“Are you out of your mind?” your father shouts and snatches the item from her hand before she can presumably throw it.

You shove Seungcheol out of the way. Well, you try to shove him. He stands firm in his stance. You try again, and although he still doesn’t move away, he leans slightly over so you can see better.

“What are you doing back?” you question your mother. She turns to you, eyes puffy and lips curled in a snarl. She looks like she hasn’t slept for a few days.

“Yn, dear. Hi sweetie,” she greets, voice softer than before.

Seungcheol watches her with hawk eyes, but when you push him for the third time, he relents. Though he still keeps close.

“Dad?” you ask, hoping to get an explanation.

“She came wanting her stuff back. I told her we had to sell some of it to afford things, and she wasn’t happy about it.”

“Am I supposed to be glad?” your mother growls as she turns back to your father. “You had no right to do that without my permission!”

“You weren’t here,” you say. Her gaze on you is one of surprise as if you’re supposed to be on her side.

“I was coming back,” she says, shoulders sagging.

“And then leave after a few days. This isn’t your home anymore.”

“You’re my home, baby girl,” she replies and starts to come closer. Seungcheol takes a step forward.

You put a hand on his arm to stop him, telling him quietly, “This isn’t your problem.”

This doesn’t make him move, and you sigh. This is exactly what you wanted to hide from Seungcheol. To hide from the world.

“Who is this? You’re letting our daughter see this disrespectful man?” your mother questions your father. 

“He’s a nice young man,” your dad defends. There’s an annoyed spark in you that wants to ask how he could know that. He met him for five minutes or less, and suddenly he knows Seungcheol? However, you don’t want to ignite another argument.

“Yn, take Seoah with you and go book a hotel room. You can take my wallet,” your father instructs.

At Seoah’s name, you realize she’s been home while all this has been happening. You’re used to her being somewhere else when fights like these occur. 

Without another word, you nod and start toward her room. You don’t get far before you remember Seungcheol. You stop to peer at him. 

You’ve never seen him so mad yet worried.

“Thanks for the meal. I’ll talk to you later,” you dismiss, hoping he will turn around and leave so you can focus on Seoah. You should’ve known he wouldn’t do that.

“Yn,” he says.

“Boy, get out of this house right now,” your mother declares.

“You’re the one that needs to leave,” your father exclaims.

Sighing, you grab Seungcheol’s hand and pull him down the hall. You knock on Seoah’s door. Your parents fighting can still be heard.

“It’s me,” you say. The door creaks open.

“What do y—Oh, Seungcheol!” Her eyes widen when she sees him.

You move in front of him more so she’s focused on you. “Eyes on me. Pack a bag. We’re going to a hotel.”

“Again?” she sighs. “I don’t want to. I can just put my headphones in.”

“It doesn’t matter. Pack. We’re leaving in fifteen.”

“I said I don’t want to!” she huffs.

“I don’t ca—” you hiss, only stopping when Seungcheol places a hand on your hip.

“You can stay at mine.”

Seoah’s eyes light up at this.

“Really?!”

“Absolutely not.”

You and your sister say in unison.

“Why not?” Seoah whines.

“We don’t need his help.”

Seoah stares at Seungcheol for a moment and then at you. Finally, she nods solemnly. “Alright, I'll be ready soon.”

“Good,” you reply, then walk to your room. Seungcheol follows you.

“You shouldn’t have said that in front of her,” you scold as you grab a bag, not bothering to look at him. He quietly closes your door to block out the noise outside, though you don’t hear it shut fully.

“Maybe not, but I meant what I said,” he replies.

“And I meant what I said,” you pause while putting a shirt in the bag, eyes glancing at him. He leans against the wall near your door; his arms are crossed. “We don’t need your help.”

You go back to tossing clothes in the bag in a rush. You kick off your heels and trade them for socks and tennis shoes. You don’t hear Seungcheol move until a hand is gently placed on yours.

“Just stop for a minute, Yn,” he says.

“I don’t have time.” You brush his hand off and go back to your closet. Seungcheol grabs your reaching hands and turns you to face him. He leans in so you can see his face easier.

“Stop,” he instructs, using that firm tone of his. It has you relenting. “It’ll be faster to just stay over. You won’t need to deal with a hotel. They may not even have an empty room.”

“You shouldn’t have to deal with us,” you reply, chest jumbling with overwhelming emotions. You were happy with him just minutes ago. Now, you feel embarrassed and frustrated.

He shakes his head. “I want you to come. You won’t be bothering me.”

“Do you have a roommate? What would they say?” you question, thinking back to how some of his friends are rooming with each other.

“I live alone. I have a spare room Seoah can sleep in. It’ll be more comfortable there.”

“What about me?”

“You can have my room.”

“I’m not going to kick you out of your own room, Cheol.”

He smiles, yet it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s nice to know you care about me.”

“I don’t,” you huff. “I just don’t want you to give me a hospital bill from the back pains you’d get from sleeping on the couch or floor or wherever.”

Seungcheol chuckles softly and watches as you take a deep breath. The playful moment disappears as quickly as it came.

You bow your head; wrists still clutched in his hold as you ponder his offer.

Staying at his place rather than a hotel does sound nicer, and he has a point there may not be any openings. Not to mention, it’s the cheaper option. But will this be crossing into territory that you aren’t ready for? You’ve hung out with him enough times to consider him your friend, but even then, that’s new to you. Friendship doesn’t come easy to you. Despite you clashing heads with his business peers, you feel Seungcheol has slid into your life too readily. Like it’s too good to be true, and he isn’t going to stick around permanently. Something in you doesn’t like that thought, but that’s an issue for another day.

Seungcheol places your hands on his chest before moving his own to cup your face. He gently lifts your head up to see you. Your eyes are glossy, not yet crying but can easily if one more thing goes wrong.

For the first time, your veil of confidence lifts.

“Stay with me,” he whispers.

He’s talking about going over to his place to get away from your parents. You know this. That’s what this whole discussion is about. But why does your heart tell you he means something else?

There’s a knock at your door, and you move away reluctantly. Seoah shuffles inside with a backpack on her back.

“He’s still here,” she says, surprised at Seungcheol’s appearance.

You clear your throat. “Yeah, we’re,” you pause as you do one final debate in your head, “we’re going to his place for the night.”

From your peripheral, you see Seungcheol’s lips lift in a faint smile.

Seoah’s sad face brightens at the news. You aren’t too sure why she’s so excited to go to his place, but you figure it’s similar to your reason—it isn’t a stuffy hotel room.

“You convinced her! You’re so clever!” she exclaims to Seungcheol.

“I am, huh?” he agrees to which you nudge him.

“Seoah, will you go grab my toiletries, please?” you ask.

“Hm, fine, but only because I forgot mine,” she replies and hurries to your shared bathroom.

“I’m clever, did you hear?” Seungcheol gloats while you finish packing.

“I’m pretending I didn’t,” you mumble. 

You zip the bag and toss it over your shoulder. As you expect, it doesn’t stay there for long. Seungcheol carefully slides it off your body before putting it on his a few minutes later. You had opened your mouth to protest, but he shook his head to tell you not to argue. Sighing, you nodded because frankly, you’re done having and hearing arguments for now.

You meet Seoah in the bathroom, and you all walk to the door. 

The yelling has stopped. 

Your mom is sitting with her head in her hands, and you can hear her sobs filling the room. Your dad is cleaning the mess she made from tossing things around. They are talking, but you don’t stay long enough to hear the topic. The few words you do hear make it sound like they’re talking about their marriage, which is a conversation long overdue.

Seungcheol ends up carrying all the bags to the car. While he sets them in the trunk, you and Seoah sit inside.

“Woah! This is fancy,” Seoah admires, eyes scanning the small space.

“Thanks,” Seungcheol laughs lightly as he drives away.

Seoah talks for a while before eventually falling asleep. You aren’t surprised as it’s late, and she probably doesn’t realize how much the drama took a toll on her.

“You can sleep too,” Seungcheol offers quietly. He keeps his hand to himself this time, and you wonder if it’s because of Seoah or because he wants to distance himself from you. You can’t blame him if he did. Who wants to deal with other people’s problems? He only offered for you to come over out of courtesy.

“I’m okay,” you reply, gaze cast out the window.

As if sensing your thoughts, his hand comes to rest on your thigh again. His thumb brushes against the material of your pants, offering some comfort and reassurance. You place a hand on top of his gently. He flips his over so he can curl his fingers around your hand. You both gaze at each other with a small smile before turning away, hands still clasping in each other.

Seungcheol carries Seoah and her bag once you arrive. He offers to carry your bag too, but you’re stern in your refusal. He’s helping enough. He directs you quietly to his apartment number. After retrieving the keys, you open the door.

His apartment is spacious.

The interior is polished and decorated nicely. Similar to his car, it’s enough to tell you it’s luxurious but not obnoxious to shove it in your face. And man, is he wealthy. From his car, his clothes, the dinner bill, and now his apartment? His pockets are definitely not empty. You’re sure he could rent or buy a house, so why he decided to live in an apartment is unknown. 

Seungcheol leaves to put Seoah in the guest bedroom while you lock the door. You place the keys in a bowl near the entrance. Some of his shoes are left by the door, so you take off yours before walking any farther.

“Cherry?” he calls out. A small smile forms on his lips when you respond to the name. He nods for you to come over, and you follow carefully as if you could break his flooring. You don’t think you can afford the repairs if you do.

“You act like you’re walking on glass,” he chuckles. He watches you with amusement.

“I don’t want to break anything,” you explain.

Seungcheol glances around where you are. The path you take is pretty much empty, but you still act as if you are going through a maze of porcelain vases.

“You’ll be fine. Now walk a little faster, please,” he says.

You don’t listen to him and keep your pace. Seungcheol eyes you as he leans his back against a wall. His head is tilted and his arms are crossed while he waits.

“You’re cute,” he comments when you come closer.

“Be quiet,” you hiss and take a few more steps before stopping in front of him.

“No,” he says defiantly, then guides you to another room. Although you don’t see the room he put Seoah in, you’re positive you have just stepped into his room.

You were so caught up with your family drama that you didn’t think twice about Seungcheol being in your bedroom. Now that you are in his, it dawns on you how much of your life he has seen in a short period of time.

It isn’t a big deal. At least, it shouldn’t be; however, bedrooms are personal. They often described the resident, and you and Seungcheol have seen each other's spaces in the span of an hour.

“The bathroom is over there,” he points out. “You can set your bag anywhere. I’ll be out there on the couch.”

“I should take the couch,” you say.

“Cherry, don’t argue. Not tonight. You’re sleeping here.” His words make it seem like he is tired of your complaints, but he talks so softly that it doesn’t feel like that.

“Fine,” you comply.

Seungcheol rewards you with a smile. “Goodnight then. I’ll see you in the morning,” he says and starts for the door.

“Cheol,” you murmur, reaching out when he comes by.

He stops as soon as he feels your hand grazing his arm. “Hm?”

Your eyes rise to meet his, and the look on his face has you needing to catch your breath. He is worried. Worried about your well-being. Worried about what would happen tomorrow. You don’t want him to stress over you.

“Thank you,” you speak softly, “for a lot of things.”

He chuckles and raises a hand to the nape of your neck, thumb caressing your cheek. “Care to be specific?”

“For dinner. For this. For not… leaving me.” Yet.

“I don’t think I would if I could,” he murmurs.

“You can, though?” you say, skepticism evident in your head tilt.

Seungcheol’s mouth curves into a small smile, eyes searching yours for something you don’t know. “You’ll know one day.”

That doesn’t help your puzzled state, but that doesn’t seem to affect him. Slowly, he leans in. His lips press against your forehead tenderly, lingering there long enough for you to close your eyes for a second. It’s gentle and sweet. You wish it was on your lips instead.

“Sweet dreams, Cherry.”

He leaves without another word, and you’re in such a stupor that you don’t have time to say anything before he shuts the door behind him.

Using Seungcheol’s bathroom and changing in his room is strange. Yet what’s more strange is that it doesn’t feel all that… weird? Not like you thought it would be. 

Is it another illusion you cast upon yourself? 

Seungcheol would stroll through the door, dressed in sweats and a loose shirt… or maybe not one at all. He would kiss your mouth in greeting. His broad body would press against yours, and he’d smile that smile that had you wanting to do anything to keep it there. He’d slide next to you in bed, whispering teases in your ear that would annoy you, yet you wouldn’t want him to stop.

Oh, hell. What is wrong with you?

Irritated at the mini story you conjured in your head, you kick at the jacket on the floor. However, you recall you didn’t bring a jacket tonight. Seungcheol had let you borrow his. You just kicked his jacket.

Oh no.

But it’s just a jacket. Why are you getting upset over it? You can kick it again. It isn’t going to come alive and bite you. Seungcheol will never know you fought with it, but something in you feels guilty about the action. Perhaps because it belongs to him, and you feel responsible for it since it’s under your care.

Shaking your head, you grab the item and hang it over his dresser. You’re losing it. Your marbles? All gone. Rolled off to another dimension, never to be seen again.

You move to his bed, carefully pulling back the covers to climb in. Your body sinks into the mattress, and a sigh leaves your lips at how good it feels under you. It’s comfortable, soft, and way too big for just you. You feel like royalty.

Leaning over, you switch off the night light, snuggling deeper in the covers and taking a deep breath.

Sleeping in his bed is surely a bad idea. His expensive cologne is lingering on his sheets and is a strong reminder of where you are. Nevertheless, you pull the covers closer to you as you close your eyes. You need a break from your tiring thoughts.

The morning comes sooner than you’d like.

You open your eyes expecting to see your pegboard of sewing supplies and instead see a black dresser. It has you jolting up and frantically glancing around. When you spot the black jacket on the dresser, you remember you aren’t home. You’re at Seungcheol’s.

You reach over and flip your phone to view the screen. It’s nearly ten.

You linger in bed, mindlessly scrolling through social media until Dae texts for a favor. You’ll fill her in on what happened later, for now, you’re forced to go to your gallery to send a reference of something she needs. The act has you stumbling upon the picture you took last night.

The stretch of your lips happens involuntarily as you stare at Seungcheol through your screen. Even though the night ended poorly, at least you have something to remember about the good times.

Having caught yourself staring at the photo for too long, you quickly exit the app and send Dae what she needs. That’s enough phone usage for now.

Reluctantly, you haul yourself from Seungcheol’s (beyond) comfortable mattress, fix the bed, and then go to the bathroom. After a quick change, you carefully open the door and pad out to the living room. You anticipate seeing Seungcheol sipping on something warm on the couch, but what you see instead has your heart tightening.

Seungcheol lays on his back, one arm resting across his eyes and the other across his chest. Some of his hair is trapped against his forehead due to his arm, and the rest dangles off the side. His lips are slightly ajar due to the position of his head. The blanket that was once over his body is now situated half on the floor.

You recognize his clothes from last night, and a pang of guilt hits your heart. He could’ve knocked on your—his—door and asked to get a spare of clothes, yet he left you alone. It was a selfless act, and you stare at him with newfound affection.

You shuffle in your spot, unsure of what to do. A part of you wants to be a creep and stare at Seungcheol longer—he looks too cute not to—and another wants to go back to his room until you hear some movement. Neither of these happens when you hear Seoah’s voice.

“Are you plotting his murder?” she whispers, though it’s louder than one.

You snap your eyes to her, feet moving farther from the sleeping man. You scoff, muttering, “No!”

“Then why were you staring at him like that?”

“I was not staring,” you argue. Seoah’s eyes narrow, unbelieving you.

“Were to! You weren’t even blinking.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“And you’re lying.”

You both eye each other down from across the room, sending invisible daggers each way.

“Go get dressed,” you finally say.

“Why?” she questions. “We’re going now?”

“Soon, yes.”

“But it’s so nice here. Don’t you think we should, I don’t know, cook him breakfast for letting us stay here?”

“We can give him a granola bar when we get home,” you sigh. Just once, can she listen to you?

“A granola bar? I didn’t think you hated him that much,” she gasps, overexaggerating her expression.

“You’re right. I don’t. I’ll give you the granola bar instead,” you threaten.

She giggles, and a frown sets on your lips at the sound. “You can’t. They’re all gone. I gave them to Dad.”

There’s a small puff of air somewhere in the room that doesn’t come from you or Seoah. The only other person in the room is… Your eyes go to Seungcheol. Sometime during your bickering, Seungcheol had woken up. He doesn’t have his eyes open or has even moved his body, but his lips were definitely not in a smile a few minutes ago.

“Did you hear that, Seungcheol?” Seoah asks. “Yn’s trying to kill you with granola bars.”

“Hm, I heard,” he chuckles softly, still a little sleepy. He peels his eyes open and leans his head to the side to look at you. The arm that was once over his eyes has shifted to rest on his forehead. 

“That’s not very nice of you.”

You should be irked at being ganged up on. They’re teasing you, yet your mind gets foggy from hearing Seungcheol’s deep timbre. He already has a deep voice, and you’ve heard it go deeper when he’s teased you, but this is different. 

And goodness, do you find it attractive.

“I think we won,” Seungcheol continues playfully and looks at Seoah with a smile.

“I think so too! She doesn’t have anything to say,” she giggles.

You blink a few times and then look at Seoah. “Why aren’t you getting changed?”

“This is why you don’t get invited to parties. You ruin the fun,” she huffs, smile dipping into a frown at your words.

“Parties aren’t fun in general,” you counter.

“Speak for your own parties!” she says.

“What do you even know about them?” you question. Seoah opens her mouth to answer but stops when Seungcheol speaks.

“Seoah, go get dressed, and we can get some breakfast. One that doesn’t include granola bars,” he chuckled.

“Oh?! Okay! Sounds good,” Seoah replies excitedly and turns to go back to her room.

“You listen to him and not me?” you scoff.

She stops in her tracks. “He’s nicer.”

“I’m your sister,” you answer as if that holds more weight.

“Right,” she drags out. “I revoke that privilege!”

She hurries inside the room and shuts the door.

“Privilege,” you repeat with a scoff and cross your arms over your chest.

“You should’ve been a lawyer,” Seungcheol says as he stands from the couch. You focus your attention on him, almost forgetting he’s there with how quiet he is being. His hair is sticking in different directions, and you have to force down a giggle.

“What? Why?” you question.

“Because you like to argue.”

“Hmph!” you sound and give him your back. A childish move, but Seoah isn’t here to mock you for it later.

Seungcheol laughs and comes up behind you. He places his hands on your hips, leaning his head to your ear. Your heart begins to race at how close he is. His breath tickles your ear, and you squirm at the sensation. Seungcheol holds you tighter.

“I think you would’ve been a good one,” he murmurs, voice still deep from his sleep. You want to listen to him more.

“Really?” you hum.

Seunghceol’s hair brushes against your cheek when he shakes his head.

“No,” he teases before slowly slipping his hands from you. You whip around to look at him.

“Where are you going?” you ask. Why do you sound so desperate? You don’t need to be near him. It doesn’t matter he’s leaving.

He smiles as he walks back toward his room.

“To get ready. Don’t miss me too much,” he replies, sending a playful wink and shutting his door.

Seungcheol comes back dressed in a simple black short-sleeved shirt and jeans. It’s not a combination you haven’t seen before. In fact, it’s really common, yet your eyes can’t tear away from him.

“Is it stained or something?” Seungcheol questions, glancing down at his outfit as he walks to you.

“N-no,” you reply and avert your eyes from him.

“You know you can tell me when I look nice, right? My ego will only inflate a little,” he says.

He plops down next to you on the couch, swinging an arm behind you and spreading his legs a bit. Your gaze drifts down to his thighs. They’re thick, and you wonder if they will be soft or firm under your touch. Your body instinctively inches closer to him like the temptation is too strong to ignore.

You hear Seungcheol try to stifle his laugh, causing your eyes to move away.

“A little?” you echo when you recall the active conversation. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

He smiles and shrugs. “Well, what can I say? A pretty girl giving me compliments makes my ego grow bigger than usual.”

“Cheol,” you whine, glancing away, wishing he wouldn’t say things that make your heart do somersaults. You had put those thoughts under lock and key because you are definitely not developing an infatuation with Choi Seungcheol.

Seungcheol tucks a finger under your chin and turns you to face him, so he can see your flustered expression clearly.

“My pretty girl,” he murmurs so low you have to strain to hear it.

Silence looms over you both. You swear he can hear your thudding heart. His hand glides from your chin to your upper thigh.

“You gonna’ give me that compliment now, baby?” he prompts lowly while his hand gently massages you.

“You look good,” you reply quietly, fighting to stay calm.

“Only good?” he hums.

“Really good.”

Seungcheol chuckles. “I guess that’ll do for now.”

Your lips tug down when he pulls away from you, making Seungcheol pause and smile.

“Don’t be sad, Cherry. You can compliment me more later,” he says. You have a feeling he knows the true reason for your pout but decides not to mention it.

You’ll have to work on hiding your expressions better. For now, you focus on making sure you and Seoah don’t leave anything before heading out the door. You don’t fight with Seungcheol when he takes your bags again. It’s just easier not to.

As promised, Seungcheol drives you all to a local breakfast diner. It’s lively—filled with all different walks of life. You see couples, friends, families, and some loners who don’t actually look alone. They seem content.

Seungcheol must come here often as most of the workers recognize him. They’re happy to see him with new people this time. You think you catch sight of one of them giving him a thumbs up, but it could’ve been directed to another patron.

“This tastes amazing!” Seoah exclaims, another fork full of pancakes entering her mouth.

“Don’t eat so fast,” you scold when you see her cheeks full.

She brushes you off with a wave of a hand but waits until she swallows what’s in her mouth before taking another bite.

“Is yours okay?” Seungcheol asks from across the table.

You had wanted to sit next to him, but Seoah had pushed you inside the booth and slid in after before you could have a say. Though Seungcheol doesn’t let the distance stop him from giving you affectionate touches. He has been brushing his leg against yours slowly under the table for the past ten minutes.

You glance at him and nod. “It’s great,” you say.

“I’m glad,” he responds before taking another bite as well.

The rest of the meal isn’t anything exciting. You all eat well, and when it comes time for payment, Seungcheol beats you to it. You try to pay, even going as far as trying to distract him, but he remains adamant. You reason he just paid for a hearty meal last time, and the least you can do is pay as a thank you for spending the night. He only shakes his head.

Seoah is much more awake on this car ride. Her mouth almost never stops running. She gives Seungcheol so many compliments on his apartment you figure his ego is bursting at the seams. He’ll be full of them for days. Then Seoah talks about you—well, tries to. You shush her every time she attempts to tell an embarrassing story.

“But he should know how you can’t eat more than three egg rolls before throwing up—” Seoah says from the backseat.

“Seoah!” you huff for the umpteenth time.

“Seriously, Seungcheol, she ate so much one time that her body can’t eat a lot anymore,” she continues. You rest your head against the headrest with a groan. You don’t want to go to jail. Deep breaths.

Seungcheol laughs, taking a quick glance at you. “Fully noted,” he replies.

“Good! You should know this stuff since you’re her boyfriend,” she says. “Well, not yet, anyway. You’re going to ask her out, though, right?”

The question has you holding your breath. You don’t expect him to answer as it isn’t any of her business, but there is still some hope that he’ll respond.

Seungcheol makes a small choking noise while he tightens his hold on the steering wheel, obviously startled by the sudden question. His face becomes flushed, and his ears turn a light shade of red. It isn’t often you see this side of Seungcheol, and you almost let Seoah continue. Almost.

“I—” Seungcheol starts.

“You’re five seconds away from being kicked out of this car,” you threaten Seoah as you turn in your seat to glare at her.

“Seungcheol wouldn’t do that to me,” she protests defiantly.

“There’s always a first for everything,” you smirk at her. “Plus, it’ll build your character.”

She gives you a shove on the arm and pouts.

“Don’t worry, Seoah. You’re safe with me,” Seungcheol says after he collects himself.

Seoah straightens at that, sticking her tongue out at you. “Told you so!”

You mutter a “yeah” at her as you shake your head and glance at Seungcheol. He gives you a lopsided smile before looking back at the road.

That night your mom and dad discussed their relationship.

It’s been delayed long enough, and all that pent-up anger finally bubbled over, resulting in your mom becoming the Hulk for five minutes. You had never seen her so mad, but you’re grateful she was throwing the objects on the floor rather than at your dad or Seoah.

They agreed to break up officially. It’s always been a cloudy subject with them. You didn’t really know where they stood, but it’s clear to you now. Whatever hopes of getting your family back won’t come true. Your parents have some money and plan to file for divorce papers soon. You aren’t sure how custody will work, but you figure Seoah will stay with your dad. Your mother is too busy traveling to take care of your sister. Despite your dad also being busy, at least he’ll be home more. Though, you get the feeling you’ll still have to look after her. 

As promised, your father put aside some time to talk to you. It wasn’t a lengthy conversation, but it was… nice, regardless. He apologized again for not being there for you and Seoah and said he’ll try to be better. He’s honest in that he tells you it will take some time, but you’re grateful he wasn’t feeding you fairytales. 

Two weeks pass by with the same schedule—wake up, homework, class, homework, dinner, sleep. You meet with Dae a few times to work on your project, but that’s all. You have a quarter of your outfits completed for the show, which feels good, but you still have more to finish. You’re on track with your own deadlines, but barely.

You haven’t seen Seungcheol much during the weeks. If you do, it’s only through passing. Texts with him have also been minimal due to your schedules. You should be fine with that. You’ve seen and talked with him plenty that weekend to last weeks, yet you can’t get him out of your mind. 

You’re not sure when you’d grown so attached to the man, and that makes you worry. You’ve only known him for nearly three months. It’s too soon to feel this strongly. To feel like you need him. You need to focus more on something else. Anything but him. You have repeated this in your mind, trying to make it stick. 

Though it isn’t too successful, considering you are sitting on your bedroom floor with Seoah stringing beads as a thank-you gift for Seungcheol. You want to blame this on Seoah, but you had come up with the idea. Seoah is here because you know she has been wanting to do something. However, if you are being honest, the main reason is you need an excuse for why you are making a bracelet for him. The idea is silly, but you found a bunch of beads in your room and needed to do something with them. Maybe this is too childish for someone like Seungcheol. You were going to back out of the plan, though Seoah was over the moon at the suggestion. Needless to say, you couldn’t change your idea even if you wanted to.

“These beads are too small,” you grumble as you try to pick up a bead for the third time.

“You just want to complain,” Seoah replies, having no issue with plucking beads from the container. You glance at her work. She used pink and blue beads only, alternating between the two. There’s also an “S” dangling in the middle.

“‘S’ for Seungcheol?” you wonder. Seoah glances at the letter and then at you.

“No. ‘S’ for Seoah. I want him to know it’s from me,” she explains. You laugh a little. A two-for-one use.

She tilts her head at yours. “Why the cherries?”

Your body warms at the question. It’s simple. Innocent. Nothing inappropriate or difficult to comprehend. Though the answer is more complicated, or at least, it’s too personal to share.

“They matched my colors,” you shrug, acting as if it has no significant meaning, but you know otherwise. 

You want him to be reminded of you any time he sees it. You want to be on his mind as much as he is on yours. It’s only fair. Plus, in a weirdly possessive way, you want to feel like he’s yours. Even if that isn’t true.

“There are strawberries, too,” she points out.

“I just grabbed the first charm I saw.”

“Ah,” she examines the unfinished bracelet. The beads are alternated in a different pattern than Seoah’s. It consists of mainly white beads, a few red and green ones scattered between. “It’s nice.”

As you tie the string, you consider the chance of him not wearing it at all. Is yours too much? Too cheesy? Should you just have given him money and left it at that? Why did you spend an hour planning a design and ensuring the beads you picked weren’t scratched or chipped? Seoah had finished hers minutes ago but stayed watching you.

It’s been a while since you hung out with Seoah alone. You hung out more when your mother was here, but even then, it wasn’t too often. You aren’t as close as you feel you should be. You glance at her once you are done. She’s been growing fast, slowly discovering her personality and interests. You know you will never win the Best Sister Award, but you can try to be an honorable mention.

“Seoah?” you call, fingers toying with the finished bracelet.

She’s staring at your hands, but you can tell she isn’t really registering what is happening around her. Somewhere lost in her thoughts.

Still, she answers and looks up. “Yeah?”

“Do you,” a pause, “want to sleep over in my room tonight?”

It isn’t a big deal. You don’t plan to have a pillow fight and do each other's nails, but you would have company.

She looks happy for a split second and then narrows her eyes. “What’s the catch?”

“There’s none,” you shake your head.

“Then why did you ask?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. Not quite ready to fight through the awkwardness of a sappy conversation.

“I thought it’d be nice to have some company, but you don’t have to,” you answer and grab her bracelet. You slide them inside a sheer bag you found, pulling the strings to close the opening. You stand up and place it in your purse. You’ll give it to him tomorrow.

“I want to!” Seoah says quickly when she feels like you’re changing your mind. “Let me go get changed.”

“It won’t be like the sleepovers you have,” you warn when she gets to your door. You don’t want her to get false ideas. She smiles at you.

“I know, but I don’t care.”

After you both are ready for bed, you lay staring at your ceiling. She talks about her classes, friends, and even a few crushes she has. She’s a social butterfly; unlike you, people enjoy talking to her. She is quirky enough to put some fun in conversations, but not excessive to come off rude or overbearing. You’re not sure how she grew to be such a good person because she sure as hell didn’t learn that from you or your dad. Whoever it was, though, you’re grateful. You’ve stopped feeling close to your family, so you quit putting effort into getting to know them more. 

Maybe you should change that.

This feels like walking in a tiger’s cage.

You are surrounded by people dressed up in suits and others in plain jeans and a shirt. The majority have neutral colors on, and it’s different from what you’re used to. At least in your building, there are more colors.

There’s no way you’re going to be able to camouflage yourself in your all-pink plaid outfit, so why try? 

You keep your chin high as you try to find the study room, ignoring the many stares you receive on the way. You texted Seungcheol earlier and asked for his location. When he asked you why, you simply said it was a surprise.

Room 526.

There’s a window in the door, and you peer in to see if he’s there. He is. Though he isn’t alone. Hajun, Hana, and Doyun are there as well. They’re silent, heads bowed, as they all work on something in front of them. Seungcheol seems deep in thought.

That is until Hajun makes a comment while glancing at Seungcheol. He smiles, chuckling at whatever she said before they both go back to their work. 

It’s odd to see him in this environment. He acts so casually with the very same people who only spit insults at you. You know Seungcheol has never stopped talking to them. You didn’t tell him to, and they were his friends before you. Yet, there is still a twinge of disappointment that he remained friends with them. 

Dae’s words ring in your ear from weeks ago—he could have left you. Then there is the devil on your shoulder telling you he should have. However, you tried that already. You made that decision for him, but he came back. And you let him.

“Yn?” says a male voice behind you. You jump, turning on your heel quickly and moving from the door.

Vernon stands with his backpack hanging off one shoulder.

“Vernon,” you say, startled. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles shyly. “I’m late for a study group.”

“I thought you were changing majors?” you question.

“I am, but I figured I’d stick it out for the classes I have. Don’t want to waste any more money than I already have by withdrawing,” he chuckles sadly.

“It’ll be worth it once you find something you like,” you reassure.

“Thanks,” he replies and gives you a toothy smile. He looks so young with that grin. “I should go in before they text me again.”

You step aside as Vernon moves.

“Hey, can you tell Seungcheol to come out?” you ask quickly before he opens the door.

“Sure,” he replies.

“You took your time,” Hana teases when the door opens.

“It’s not my fault my phone died overnight. I didn’t hear my alarm,” he pouts. There are a few chuckles that echo in the room.

“Oh, Cheol?” Vernon says. There’s silence for a second. “You’re needed outside.”

“Why?” Seungcheol asks; he sounds distracted.

“Yn’s here.”

“Yn?” Hajun questions, surprised. “What is she doing here?”

“I’ll be right back,” Seungcheol says as you hear the sound of a chair scraping the floor.

“She’s probably just here to recruit you for her stupid project. You don’t need to help her. Let’s just get back to work,” Hajun reasons. “Vernon’s here so we can get done faster.”

“I’m sure you can wait five more minutes,” he says. You listen carefully as his footsteps become louder. The door squeaks when it’s pushed open more.

You look up at the noise and meet Seungcheol’s eyes. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat. 

His hair is pushed off his face, a few pieces hanging down deviantly. He wears black slacks and a tucked-in white button-down. The tie around his neck is loosened and the first few buttons of his shirt are undone. 

His once-stressed face soon brightens as he lets the door shut. He moves closer.

“Hey, Cherry,” he smiles.

“Hey,” you reply, a little breathless from having held your breath.

“It’s good to see you,” he murmurs, leaning a forearm against the wall. You notice he’s keeping his distance, and you’re unsure if it’s purposeful. Perhaps you’re just overthinking again.

“You too,” you reply. Your eyes take one more quick sweep of his attire. How he makes a simple fit look so remarkable is beyond you.

“I can tell you want to give me another compliment,” he haughtily says.

You huff, trying to disguise your panicked expression with faux annoyance. “Not when you tell me that.”

“I can wait,” he says and disregards your comment. He lays his head against the arm that’s on the wall as if he’s taking a rest. You want to wipe that smug smile off his lips.

“You’re insufferable,” you whine.

“No, baby, I’m patient.” He speaks slowly as if to emphasize his statement.

You glare up at him but soon relent with a huff. “You look good.”

“Oh, come on, you used that last time. Don’t you have another adjective? Maybe one that rhymes with pot?” he smirks, an eyebrow rising in challenge.

He wants you to call him hot.

You aren’t going to at first, but then you decide you’re done with him having the upper hand. You recall his shocked and reddened face at Seoah’s question in the car. It would be nice to see that again.

You close the space between you, hand grabbing the end of his tie. Slowly, you wrap the material around your palm. His smug smile slowly disappears with each inch you tug him closer. He pushes his forearm off the wall and sprawls his hand on it instead. His other hand grabs your hip so he can’t tumble forward.

“I’ll say something even better,” you purr lowly. Your faces are so close to each other that you can faintly feel his breath. “You look very sexy, Seungcheol.”

The hand on your hip squeezes you, and you can see his Adam’s apple bob from his harsh swallow. It feels good to put him on the other side for a change. You smile triumphantly at his reaction before letting his tie unravel from your hand.

Taking a step back, his hand slips from your body, and you dig into your purse for the jewelry bag.

“Here, I came to give you this,” you explain and hold the bag up. His eyes drop from yours to the item. He still looks a little dazed.

“It’s a thank you for letting me and Seoah stay the night.”

Seungcheol takes the bag, flipping it over in his hand. He brings it closer and examines it through the sheer material. His lips slowly tug up. Before he can say anything, you hastily continue.

“It was Seoah’s idea. You don’t have to actually wear them, we—she just wanted to give you something.”

Seungcheol starts opening the bag, and you swiftly put a hand out as if to stop him. “You don’t have to open it now, you can do that la—”

He takes out the two bracelets, twisting them until both charms are facing him. You drop your hand and start playing with the strap of your purse, resisting the urge to tap your foot as you stand in silence watching him.

“T-the ‘S’ is for Seoah, not Seungcheol,” you explain. You’re not sure why you do it in the first place. It doesn’t really matter what the ‘S’ really stands for.

“And the cherries? What do they represent?” he questions, eyes flickering to you with a faint smile.

Your heart hammers in your chest. He doesn’t need to ask that. He knows what they represent.

“They’re just cherries. Don’t think too muc—”

“That’s not true and you know it,” he scolds gently. Your eyes focus on his hands as he carefully slips both bracelets on his wrist. They fit around him perfectly. They aren’t too tight to dig into his skin, but they are loose enough to allow a finger or two to slip through.

His gaze moves back to yours. When he notices your averted gaze, he leans in to catch your attention.

“What do they represent?” he repeats, a hint of sternness to his voice.

You meet his eyes reluctantly. “Me. They r-represent me.”

“Yes, they do,” he says, finally letting his smile show more. Seungcheol slips the bag into his pocket. “They’re nice. Tell Seoah thank you.”

“I will,” you answer, clearing your throat. “I’ll let you get back to studying.”

“Don’t you want your thank you?” Seungcheol chuckles and takes a small step forward.

Your body freezes in place. “I don’t need one.”

“Hm,” he says. He takes a quick glance at the study room’s door before cupping the back of your neck gently. Warmth spreads from that area to the rest of your body. You stare at him with wide eyes.

“Thank you, Cherry. Really,” he murmurs and then kisses your forehead for the third time since you met him.

You truly aren’t keeping track. Definitely not.

“I’ll text you later?” he says, though it sounds like a suggestion.

“Okay,” you agree with a small nod.

“You going home?” he asks and slowly walks back to the door, hand grazing your skin as he leaves.

“No, I have a class. Do you have a test or something?” you wonder, recalling how serious he looked earlier.

“A presentation,” he says. That explains his attire.

“Ah. Good luck,” you wish.

You’re not sure what comes over you, but you quickly added, “Oh, and Seungcheol?”

His hand is pressed down on the door handle when you call. He turns his head to you, waiting for your reply before he goes inside.

“You do look sexy.”

Seungcheol laughs, less flabbergasted about your compliment this time.

“Thanks, Cherry. You look beautiful.”

He says it as if it’s as easy as breathing. There’s no hesitation or delay in his comment. You wonder how long he’s been thinking that.

Seungcheol pulls the door open before you can reply and slips inside. As the door is closing, you hear Hajun ask, “Goodness, was she trying to get in your pants? You took forever!”

“Enough, let’s just...”

The door clicks close as Seungcheol speaks. You’re tempted to press your ear against it to hear the rest of the sentence, but you remember you’re in public. You inhale slowly, pausing for a few seconds before exhaling gradually. 

Why does every conversation with Seungcheol leave your heart racing?

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A/N: brb swooning 😪 also if i knew how to draw well enough, i would def conjure up the pic mc took of cheol bc in my head it's just SAUR CUTE D:<

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