#he is so perfect as an mc

[thesingingrevolution]

“mc sunghoon was so boring” just say you have no appreciation for an amazing sense of humor, endearing awkwardness, cute expressions, good presence, beautiful visuals and GO

[the-barefoot-hatter]

pediatricians are hard to find.

you aren't broken and other important things a triangle needs to hear

[ryllen]

no, but pinecones is really beautiful isn't it ?

[unlimitedhearts]

RIP Tumblr you would have loved Psych 😭

[dawnbreakersgaze]

All's Fair in Love and Kitty Cards:

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓲𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓐𝓻𝓮: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓗𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓣𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓕𝓪𝓵𝓵

❥ ┊𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; You've decided to bring home an electronic board game of kitty cards, and make the oh so simple suggestion of playing strip kitty cards to entice your work weary boyfriend Zayne into trying it out with you. After all, you're THEE Queen of Kitty Cards herself- it's not like you could lose, right?

❥ ┊𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠; bullet fic format (sorry, don't have the energy to devote to full fic rn 😅), reader referred to as you/your and she/her, this one really got away from me omf it's longer than I mean it to be eek, not proof read, written in a whirlwind bc this idea would not leave me be until I got it out, not full smut but very suggestive, just good ol' fashioned romantic fun. Zayne thinks you're hot ♡

Yes, I will be doing Xavier and Rafayel as well

Zayne rarely got too serious with kitty cards. He'd rather watch you have fun than engage in a real competition. Your smile and serious expression were far more entertaining than any game, and the delighted light in your eyes after a victory (no matter how wide or narrow) was always his most welcome reward.

That was, until you brought home that new electronic board game version, setting it up before he'd gotten home and surprising him with it only moments after he'd taken off his shoes and coat.

At first he wasn't that interested. I mean the cats where half the fun of kitty cards lets be real, plus he was tired.

But when you suggested (with a wicked little glint in your eye that had his heart stop momentarily, mind you) that you guys play strip kitty cards, he stood there blinking in silence for a solid 15 seconds, just processing.

"How upset would you be if I won, though?" He carefully asked once he finally came out of it, that little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. God he can be so smug sometimes.

You of course tell him that you're the literal Queen, Her Meowjesty the First, and this is your domain. You demand he put respect on that name and remember it well.

You'd come to eat those words later.

The first round you win easily. Just like every game before, it would seem the kitties favor you above all else (why wouldn't they, you were their Queen after all). He gives a soft chuckle, removing his vest and placing it over the back of his couch. "Round two, then?"

Round two seems to take a similar route. You almost feel bad for Zayne. He's always been a bit of a pushover when it comes to kitty cards, and as you fill the final cup cementing your victory 23-10, you watch as he loosens his tie tossing it aside and removing each sleeve garter, laying them on the table next to his vest chain. Zayne doesn't say anything this time, only watches you as you reshuffle the cards and get the board cleared for a new game.

Round three is where you finally start to feel him trying. It's a bit like reeling in a fish. You feel like you're making some headway and and then he'll pull out a Bye Bye on your double point kitty, or use a Purrcieve and discard your pink 6 kitty when there was an open pink cup. Nothing earth shattering- you could and did still wipe the floor with him, but the way Zayne watched you over the tops of his cards as he did so started to make you feel... vulnerable, despite all your layers.

When he finally sheds his third layer- his shirt- you realize all too late that you've fallen into the spider's web. With his broad, muscled shoulders, sharp collarbones that crowned his perfect pecs, and strong biceps corded with beautifully laced veins that traveled down his scarred forearms to his large hands that currently rested against those masterfully made lats and abs and.... oh.

Oh no.

Zayne catches you staring (how could he not, honestly. You were practically drooling), and regards you with that little quirk of his lip and raise of his brow. "Everything alright? Ready for round 4?" Worry starts to eat at you when you realize he doesn't sound at all worried. He's already shirtless only 3 layers from being completely nude, and he sounds like he's already won.

Not one to accept defeat so easily, you swallow, set your expression in determination, and deal the cards.

And yet

4 rounds later and Zayne had yet to remove another article of clothing.

Your clothes (and your dignity as The Queen) lay tossed about the room in a perfect metaphor for your current emotional state.

This man. THIS MAN. Despite all your usual tricks and banter, Zayne had refused every single one of your pleas to trade cards. No amount of begging or bargaining would be accepted tonight, and during your last attempt he'd made it very clear that should you ask again, he'd put the game away since you obviously weren't interested in actually testing your skills.

So here you sat. In your bra and panties, your metaphorical crown plucked from your head and reshaped into a dunce cone.

The kitties had forsaken you.

It had started out so well, but once that shirt came off it was suddenly so hard to focus. You'd find yourself watching as he'd roll his shoulder, gazing as his chest or ribs expanded with a particularly deep breath. Let your eyes linger on each and every scar that dappled his hands and forearms. Watch his Adam's apple bob as he'd take a particularly long drink of the water at his side.

Honestly, it seemed like the more layers you lost, the harder he was to ignore as well.

Little did you know the absolute torment this man was going through on his end.

Sure, setting the trap was easy enough. You were always so sure of your kitty card playing ability, and he so rarely put up a fight when you begged for mercy. However, turning your pleading down each time as you sat across from him in less and less clothing, looking at him with those big teary eyes was threatening to completely undo him. Listening to you whine his name and watch as your perfect lips pouted so full and glossy in the lamp light was too much, he couldn't take it.

You and your games would be the death of him, surly.

Round 6 is where his empire fell.

Your defeat was swift, of course. Zanye had struck gold with 4 Meow This in his hand, and pulled a complete shut out. It was like in the movies when the character watches in slow-mo as their impending death rushes towards them, and as you were left with no number cards to fill the last cup on your turn, you watched as Zayne placed his.

"I believe that's another win for me." His tone was proud- joyful, even. Typically one of your favorite expressions he made, if you were being honest. Something about Zayne's smug, rather cocky attitude really got you going sometimes, and sitting here for the last hour, ogling his shoulder and arms and hands and abs... well... that hadn't been helping the literal ocean between your thighs either.

Your silence (and likely the deer in the headlights expression you wore) spurred a warm chuckle from him, the sound both rich and comforting, yet still strange enough to snap you back to reality.

"I believe I've earned my next reward, correct?"

Oh... this bastard. This beautiful bastard.

Puffing your cheeks at him in a pout, you consider accusing him of cheating (partially in jest, you know he wouldn't, but also why is he SO DAMN GOOD all of a sudden??), but in the soft glow of the lights, your eyes catch his, and you see something darker. Immediately, your heart begins racing, skin prickling with the familiar feeling of anticipation in battle.

Wait, in battle?

This wasn't the first time you'd have taken your bra off in front of Zayne, so why did you feel so much like... prey in this moment? As your hand slowly reached behind you to find the clasp, it was apparent you weren't the only one feeling the weight in the air. The subtle creak of the couch let you know he'd leaned forward, eager to watch and enjoy the prize he'd rightfully won.

"What are you waiting for?" The subtle tilt and bob of his head mirrors the quick uptick at the corner of his mouth, a motion you're so familiar with by now. A playful gesture of his, reserved for those moments when he's feeling particularly teasing or goading.

It only stokes the fire in you, of course. The amber hues in his green eyes, further illuminated by the warm lamplight, bore into you despite his otherwise neutral expression.

With a flick of your wrist, the clasp is undone. You consider playing a bit, slowly sliding the straps down to tease and tempt, maybe using your arms to cover what he desired to see most. Surely he deserved a taste of his own medicine after obliterating you like this tonight, but his intensity is already near suffocating.

Instead, one at a time, you slipped your arm from each strap, and gently placed it at your side. The moment you felt the chill air hit you, it was audible that he'd noticed.

Oh sure, he tried to keep quiet. Tried to stop himself from letting out that small, strangled gasp when he watched your nipples pebble. Tried to still his thundering heart when your reactive shiver cut across you, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Tried to stop himself from whispering your name in a thick voice, telling you how beautiful you looked in the warm-glow lighting. At least he managed to temper his hand and hold it back from palming his quickly stiffening cock. Thank God for the small mercies.

His reaction was so much more than you'd been expecting. You'd been nude plenty of times before, like showering together, or that time you'd shared a hot spring once on vacation. Not to mention all the THE SEX. But this??

He had your body memorized at this point, but watching you strip layer by layer as you lost each round was really doing it for him?

The way his voice caught when he said your name, the way the muscles around his ribs stretched and relaxed as he took deep breaths to calm himself, the dilation of his pupils as his eyes trailed you from navel to nose, finally making eye contact after a lengthy pause on your lips.

Zayne might have been winning at kitty cards, but you were starting to get the feeling your luck was about to turn around.

"I forfeit." His normal, rational tone returns, albeit with great strain.

You sputter out a few expletives, dropping the stack of cards you'd started to shuffle. "What?! But we weren't- I was going to- I didn't even get to-!" Too many thoughts at once try tumbling from you, tangling on your tongue. How dare he! I mean sure you won, but a victory of forfeiture was hardly a victory worth bragging about.

Standing from the couch you watch as Zayne extends a large hand towards you, that same hungry look in his eye again that has you feeling small and vulnerable, and reminds you that you're very exposed.

"I've had my fun hunting the hunter. I think it's time I reward her for her win."

ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜᶦᵃᵗᵉᵈᵎ ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵒʳ ʳᵉᵃᵈᶦⁿᵍᵎ

[hirayaea]

mc, what have you done

/

once again I return to spending my time thinking about why xavier does the things he does

one of the consistent things about him is that he does things / tries new things out / buys things as long as mc even gives a hint that it will make her happy, because that’s just how much he loves her

and now I ask myself, why is he so obsessed with the kitchen, where did this desire to cook even begin

aaand I think found it

now we don’t know the chronological timeline of any of the tender moments but after re-listening I am convinced (until proven otherwise) that this is the starting point of xavier’s destructive kitchen journey

the thing is, after he says this, mc doesn’t make a comment about his kitchen skills at all… which I interpreted as — maybe she doesn’t know yet?

but now that she’s planted the idea in his head… well… she’s about to find out hahaha 😂

/

source: tender moments - heartfelt code

[secriden]

something i really appreciate about prapai is that even at the start he never pulls the asshole rich guy move of trying to buy/impress sky by throwing money or expensive gifts at him/his problems.

when sky makes it clear he's not interested, prapai almost immediately bounces back and decides to 'try again'.

rather than getting angry, in an unexpectedly sweet move, mr playboy "i love my freedom" goes for actually getting to know sky.

i mean yes, he's absolutely still just trying to get into sky's pants at this point, but at the same time this isn't a move from the rich asshole playbook at all.

when prapai shows up at sky's dorm unannounced again, it's clear he doesn't really have a plan other than 'try to be sexy around sky' and he fails terribly at this because prapai is NOT as smooth as he thinks he is.

he's so, so bad at flirting, but...it absolutely works in prapai's favour because it disarms some of sky's defences. look at sky's expressions here:

it's hard to see in screenshots, but we hear that sky suppresses a small laugh, and towards the end he's very clearly fighting not to smile. prapai's not living up to sky's expectations of finding a suave playboy type. he's ridiculous and sky is very reluctantly charmed by it.

and when they have breakfast, prapai doesn't try to show off by bringing sky to a fancy restaurant or try to make a big deal about paying for sky's meal. even though he also likely overpays for his meal.

sky leaves what looks like two 100 bhat notes while prapai leaves a single 500 bhat note. (my experiences in places like this in Bangkok says that sky left a reasonable amount/slightly more than he needed to, while prapai probably left a tip that was bigger than the cost of his meal.)

so if he wanted to, prapai could've made a big deal about this but he doesn't. this isn't for show because sky never even sees the amount prapai puts down.

look at prapai's emphasis: he queued up for it since 5am. he didn't try to pay extra to jump to the head of the line or order it to be delivered to him or send someone else to buy it for him. this was prapai's time, effort, energy and he didn't use his money to take any short cuts.

purely speculative, but assuming sky is heading directly to classes, his dorm is located within walking distance of the university, and the first class is at 8am, it's possibly around 7:30am at the earliest. which still gives a conservative estimate of prapai having a whole 2.5 hour window of queuing for the food and bringing it to sky right before his international flight and a slew of business meetings.

for a man with money, with power, with influence, this is so, so much effort.

even before prapai ends up taking care of sky when he's sick, he's already shown how real his commitment is. this is intentional, focused, dedicated pursuit. of sky. not just a warm body for sex, but very specifically: sky. because prapai is not a man who has to work this hard just to get sex.

and then there's this moment:

i think this was the moment when prapai realises that his approach was working on sky. before this point, prapai's entire strategy is 'throw stuff at wall, see what sticks,' but here he realises: sky has been moved. first, by the reassurance that prapai wasn't looking for sex anymore (at least not just sex), and second by the attention and forethought inherent in making sure sky still had food ready for him after prapai left. this is the kind of care you show when you genuinely want the best for someone, not just to make a good impression or to elevate their opinion of you, and it's working.

it's super telling that after this point in the show, about 85% of prapai's wooing strategy becomes 'send sky food', whether in person or via delivery. he's paying attention and when something works he doubles down on it with zero hesitation. and everything he does give sky either meets a basic need (food, medication, a safe space to rest) or involves directly helping sky with something he finds challenging (helping him with his assignments). primarily, prapai's focus is about spending time with sky.

and none of this, none of this, was the approach you would expect from a rich fuckboy. and i really, really love prapai for that.

[the-unconquered-queen]

The cast of Blades of Light and Shadow and their Perfect Match types

Ever since I did my Blades/Elementalists attunement crossover to mark the anniversary of the Blades series, I’ve known I wanted to do something like this to mark the wide release of book three, and I love me some Perfect Match and the types system, so what better way than by incorporating that into a piece?

So the match types you see here are based on what we’ve seen of these characters up to book two, so any character evolution they may undergo in book three is not accounted for. You might also notice that, when deciding each character’s type, I went off of the core four traits instead of the match name or description, unless I needed a tiebreaker.

Finally, MC’s type is pretty subjective, as I’m sure everyone has a different idea of what their MCs are like, so for the sake of this edit set, Raine’s type is based on which traits she displays most in canon.

So, are you swiping right?

[froggiesir]

one thing about me is im gonna make stupid marble hornets au art

[westcanaan82]

🍁Few things shine brighter than the golden hues of the autumn trees, but Sebastian finds your smile to be the most vibrant of all. 🍂

[sacrificialwham]

Seven for a secret, never to be told 🐦🐦🐦

I believe in kind, self assured, successful Draco who has made something of himself after the war, but I also like to daydream about how he took those difficult first steps on his journey to rebuild himself.

In eighth year Harry decides that he wants to bridge the gap, close the circle of him and Draco and make peace so that they can move forward with no regrets.

Draco doesn't reject Harry's attempts but is only capable of superficial courtesy and strained smiles in return, too insecure and uncertain after being so thoroughly deconstructed by his mistakes.

Harry is simultaneously frustrated and fascinated. He takes opportunities wherever he can (and makes them wherever he can't) to be around Draco. Draco continues to tolerate him, even gets used to his company, and Harry likes what he learns.

They face off in the quidditch finals, Harry makes Draco swear to give Harry his all and promises he won't hold back. They're evenly matched of course, because neither of them are there by accident.

Their final snitch chase is fierce, they chase it through the towers and behind the banners. When they both make a desperate reach they collide with each other instead, getting caught up in the fabric and falling together. They're sprawled in the sand, untangling themselves from each other when Draco opens his hand to reveal the snitch.

They're concealed from the outside world, and they have a few moments where they're the only two people who have realized that the game is over, and Draco has won.

Draco is stock still, shocked, staring at the snitch in his fingers. Then he looks at Harry, eyes wide and a little glassy but Harry's come to learn what Draco looks like when he's biting back a grin and realizes that there was no other way that the game could have ended. He feels giddy, like he was the one who caught the snitch, and practically hosts Draco onto his shoulders like a palanquin to parade him around with his prize.

Harry tells Draco that he's proud of him. Draco's smiles at him with true warmth from that day on.

[myokk]

They’re holding hands🥹💓

[astracora]

I love dragon!Sylus but I feel like it would have been deeply satisfying for Sylus to become more and more wrong when his hunger starts to take him over. Legs cracking back, bone-like spines ripping through his skin, jaw snapping and hanging open, fangs growing, eyes bleeding as scales force themselves through his flesh.

The idea of this beast that feeds off human souls, the fact he appears to others how they see him, but when the hunger latches on into his chest and rips at his soul he becomes more and more monstrous, harder to trust, more terrifying. Especially if it instinctually makes mortals COVER. Prey instinct flaring and shaking.

[orqheuss]

💚 Sebastian Sallow headcanons 💚

Sebastian has a habit of rambling. Asking him any personal question about his feelings is a surefire way to get him to ramble about whatever he is researching at that current moment with nervous energy instead of answering. It's not only when he's nervous, to be fair, he just has a tendency to ramble in general. The boy is a Nerd. You will always find him around the castle with his nose in a book, so any opportunity to talk about the thing he is currently interested in, he's taking it.

High key ADHD. Boy cannot be still to save his life. He's always moving in some way, be it tapping his foot, twirling his wand, playing with your fingers-- he's moving some body part. It can definitely be annoying at times, but you can't help but let him continue, especially when he has that cute consentrated face.

He's a lightweight. It doesn't take much for him to get absolutely plastered, and when he's that sloshed he has endless amounts of energy. It's like taking his normal golden retriever-ness and ramping it up to 100. I'm talking climbing on tables and singing Scottish Gaelic folk songs (he's fluent in the language) with a full conjured folk band (fiddle and all) until Ominis drags him to his bedroom. He always gets invited to parties.

Can speak, read, and write many languages, but his favorite is latin. Again, he's a huge nerd, so he learns as many languages as he can so he can read any book he encounters. He teaches his friends latin and sometimes likes to leave them little notes that no one else can read. You can bet he made up a secret language that only he and Anne knows; not even Ominis can crack it. 100% tried to learn Parseltongue out of spite because Ominis said it was impossible to master if you weren't born with it. Sebastian knows a few words after making his friend repeat phrases tediously over and over until he got at least some of it, and it drives him insane that Ominis was technically right (Ominis is very smug about this).

Sebastian is super affectionate with his friends. He grew up in a house that valued physical touch and comfort, so random hugs and little touches are second nature. He'll guide your hand when learning new spells because he used to do the same to Ominis in first and second year, ruffle yours and Ominis' hair when he's feeling playful, bump his shoulder against yours in the hallway when he's feeling mischievous, and sometimes fully lay across the both of you, feet in one persons lap and head in the other, and make you play with his hair when he's tired, sad, or stressed.

A big softy around animals. He's not much of a cat person and won't really go out of his way to pet them or play with them (unless they initiate first) but he will never turn down playing with a dog. He has always wanted one of his own, but his parents died before they could get one and Solomon hated house pets. He likes to hang out with the nifflers the most in beasts class-- he finds them adorable and their energy hilarious. Sebastian sometimes carries little shiny things he finds around the highlands for them.

The Mom Friend™️. Always has what you need in his pockets. Have to sneeze? Here's a tissue. Need a vial for some potion ingredient? Say no more. Have a headache? He has a potion just for that. He has everything. Honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if he put an extension charm on his robe pocket for that exact purpose. The boy always has to be prepared for anything, even the absolute worst case scenario.

So clumsy. He'd trip over air if he wasn't careful. When he's dueling he's perfectly fine, but just walking around or talking with his friends? He's accidentally running into walls or knocking things over. It's never on purpose or because he's incompetent, it's just that he gets so wrapped up in what he's talking about that he doesn't notice his hand gestures getting too close to the potion he's brewing or see the turn just up ahead. Ominis makes a lot of jokes that Seb needs his echolocation charm more than he does, but it's all in good fun.

[my-maehem]

Since people have found my cringy first WIP of Seb— here’s another one but way better

I have no clue what I did but it actually looks like him—

I feel like I won’t be able to draw him like this for a long while HAHAAA

LOOK AT HIS F*CKING ADORABLE FACE— ITS SO FUFFLY IM GONNA DIE—!

[romance-rambles]

[modern] cael | red dress, white dress

After Cael picks up a new hobby relating to your latest work, the two of you discuss weddings and wedding dresses. It ends with a proposal, from you to him.

1.8k, set after qixi [+ some spoilers for his whisper], romantic fluff + super self-indulgent, reader is mc, sequel to this cael fic [but you don't have to read it in order], series: none

IN THE TIME SINCE THE night of the QIxi festival, Cael has discovered an amusing new hobby with which to occupy himself with, when he's with you.

The words that the painter and the spirit speak—particularly towards end of your oneshot—are, evidently, not unrelated to your relationship with him. That much is obvious. And it'd be rather difficult to claim otherwise, given the faces they wear.

You haven't tried to, either.

Between the two of you, there is an acknowledgment, implicit, that they are a reflection of your innermost thoughts and desires. That they are the kind of daydreams that even someone eloquent as him would find difficult to describe, domestic and loving—just tumultuous enough to describe their standing, with the sort of fairytale ending most would wish for. That they are memories, transformed only in setting and time—only this time, they are not newly acquainted or on a time limit.

He thinks of the quaint little moment where the painter promises to make sure that no one will bother his lover. Had he not done the same for you, once, long ago?

He remembers the casual affection the spirit showers upon her love too, the way she finds herself with her head on his lap underneath the wisterias, and if that ever stops feeling familiar, it must be because he's lost his mind.

After all, you've always been an affectionate person. How can he miss it when the evidence remains in the lingering heat left by your touch? Through the way you so easily take his hand, or throw your arms around him—

When your lovesick gaze isn't boring holes into his body, that is.

He's no better in that regard. In some ways, he thinks he might be worse, with the way his loving gaze seems incapable of following anyone but you. But you might turn it into a competition if he brings it up, so Cael—well aware it won't end well for him—keeps his mouth shut.

Still, it's clear that you never expected him to start quoting your dialogue back at you.

It reminds him of one of the first times he'd properly let his mask down. The way the gears turned in your head, your deer-in-headlights expression betraying your panic before he'd clarified his joke. You'd stared at him—half-relieved, half-surprised, sitting in the silence a bit longer before you laughed.

Today, when you stare at him, there is a hint of defiance peeking through from underneath your flustered mien.

You're dressed casually, in a yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt with one of your favorite cartoon characters. Jagged lines run across the drawing, signaling its age. Some parts of the design have entirely vanished, but it remains one of your most faithful companions still.

With your head on his lap and legs thrown over the armrest, you're sprawled across the couch. In your hand is your phone, and before he dropped his line of the day on you, you'd been showing him a red dress that you really liked—one you intended to buy with your next paycheck.

"Thank you." The effect of your haughty tone is greatly lessened by the scarlet hue painting your cheeks. You clear your throat. "Does that mean you'd like to see me in a red dress?"

Cael chuckles, brushing your hair gently. "To me, it seems like you're the one who wants to be seen in a red dress."

"Of course, I do," you reply, your hand reaching out to play with his hair. "But red or white, it's not the dress that matters. As long as there's a certain someone waiting for me at the end."

For a moment, his quick-thinking mind betrays him, offering him nothing but static. He puts down the book in his hand down and carefully adjust the bookmark until it looks neat. His attention had left its crisp pages when you'd sat down beside him, but it remained in his hand still.

Occasionally, he would flip to the next page, then remember that he had absorbed none of the words on the previous page. So, he would go back, a fact that had not escaped your keen gaze—you'd teased him plenty for it, and who was he to stop you?

"I wonder who that certain someone is," he murmurs.

"I think he knows who he is," you answer, holding onto the end of his now braided strands. After a moment of digging around in your pockets, and the sofa as well, you managed to find a hair tie. "Or, he should, by this point."

"Indeed," Cael says, earning himself a wry smile from you. "It would be difficult to miss."

Enamored by your smile, he sifts through his memories, searching for the line that had left every single reader in desperate search of their own painter.

You'd been rather pleased when you went scrolling through the comments, with a smile so big it bordered on evil. So pleased, in fact, that you made sure to show him every such comment. The underlying meaning to your words was clear—you'd already found your painter, after all.

You'd have a big ego if you were dating someone so pretty too, you'd said, when he'd commented offhandedly on it.

He remembers responding with:

Then I'm certain I have the biggest ego out of anyone.

Though, his words ended up only disarming you for a brief second. It wasn't long before you were throwing your arms around him and calling him a liar ". But for the time being, the comment section was forgotten, and it was just you and him—and Beanie, watching you both from his favorite spot underneath the round table in the corner, seemingly miffed at being excluded.

He had snuck in a few extra treats for him.

Then, all was well in their relationship once more.

"'If that day ever comes, no matter what you want—'" Cael smiles helplessly, remembering the way you'd so easily captured his expression on the painter's face. "'I'll do everything in my power to bring you the most elegant wedding in the entire world.' Though you said the dress itself doesn't matter..."

You inhale sharply, seemingly forgetting—for a moment—that you're in the middle of braiding another section of his hair. When you look back at him, having looked away, your eyes are shining with poorly-disguised affection and your voice is painfully soft.

"When," you correct. "When that day comes. That's what I should've written down."

Letting go of his hair, you pull yourself off his lap and draw your knees closer to your chest. You rest your head on his shoulder. And as loose dark hair begins to tickle his cheek, his hand seeks out yours, pinky finger brushing against the back of your hand.

"When that day comes, we'll get married."

His gaze softens when he looks at you, in the midst of murmuring his agreement. Your wedding is something he's thought about often—his own is not. But now, the groom at the altar is no longer a blurry figure, devoid of any recognizable qualities and having only an aura of happiness that befits a day so celebrated.

It is something he'll ponder over until the day comes, all so that you're the happiest bride to ever live, whether on Earth or any other world.

"Good." You squeeze his hand gently. "Consider it a proposal then."

"It's the first time I've ever been proposed to," he comments offhandedly.

"Really?" For some reason, you sound surprised. And though your words sound like they could pass for a joke, the thoughtful note to them makes it clear that they are not. "Alright, I'm taking it back. I'll make sure to come back with a ring next time."

Cael smiles helplessly at you. "I'm not sure if you can take something like that back so easily."

His breath catches in his throat when you lift your head slightly to meet his gaze. Because in that moment, you're smiling at him brightly, It is blinding. While he's distracted, you lean in close and steal a quick kiss from his lips.

"Temporary measure," you respond, squinting at him in faux annoyance. "You're not getting rid of me so easily."

In a voice so soft that he's half certain you'll miss it, he says, sincerely, "I would never dream of it."

Judging by the way your smile widens into a grin, you don't miss it at all.

+extra

"YOU KNOW, YOU MISSED IT BEFORE," you point out unexpectedly, long after they've moved on from the topic of weddings and wedding dresses.

Cael catches onto the context immediately.

It's past dinner time now. The dirty dishes in the sink wait for you and your yellow rubber gloves patiently for their turn. He'd been the one to make dinner, something quick and easy, per your request. Your wish for the day had been "a lazy day together", so your initial intention was to order to takeout.

But halfway through the day, you began to crave his cooking.

Once he'd made sure the ingredients were there, getting them both out of a trip to the supermarket, you had no reason to refuse his offer. So you'd scrapped your plans and followed him into the kitchen to help.

"I'm not sure it would've been very appropriate to point out," he says, from where he sits at the dining table.

He'd expected nothing to come out of it, so he simply never brought it up. There were more important things to worry about at the time—your presence in Godheim, and all that came after that. His heart aches at the memory of your tears, particularly because he'd been the one to cause them.

They'd never properly spoken of it—of the day Peter Pan understood, but could not bring himself to make peace with, the fact that Wendy would have to leave him one day.

"After all, you were a teenager," Cael adds, remembering what he'd told your friend Natalie. "It would be no different than taking advantage of you."

His words, however, go in one ear and go out the other. You're rather specific about what you choose to pick out from his words, your next words discarding all but the subtext.

"So, you did know about my crush on you."

Though your words are undeniably a conclusion, a statement and not a question, they carry with them an expectation of a response. You crane your neck to fix him with an equally expectant stare, as if the weight behind your words isn't enough.

"Yes, I knew about your crush on me," Cael admits wryly. A helpless sigh accompanies his words. "What brought this on?"

You hum strainedly, returning to your dishes. "Nothing."

For the time being, he leaves it at that.

It is only when the two of you happen to encounter Lars while on a date that he discovers the truth, after some coaxing on his part. That you'd been under the impression that your crush on him was a secret kept carefully under wraps. That it'd been Lars who'd guessed otherwise—after some advice on how to handle Cael's new hobby—and subsequently been proven correct, leaving you to sulk on your own.

Unsurprisingly, Cael does not manage to stifle his laughter before you notice.