#i might have to.. open up... and talk about all this stuff... to all these people i'm trying to make connections with... Oh God

[daechwitatamic]

You Think You Might - Chapter 3 || csc

banner by @itaeewon 

You Think You Might

Seungcheol x fem!reader angst smut fluff fake dating!au, kind of sort of exes to lovers? Fake exes to lovers?

NSFW - minors DNI

Summary: Seungcheol agrees to be your fake boyfriend at your sister’s destination wedding, under the condition that it “stays there”. You didn’t expect it to hurt when he holds you to that promise.

WC: 54k across 5 chapters; this chapter 13k

Status: complete; posting a new chapter each Friday

Warnings: drinking recreationally and drinking to cope with feelings but no one is Drunk, angst, reader working through some Stuff, language, Seungcheol is able to lift/hold up reader a few times, Soonyoung is reader’s biological little brother, family drama, kissing, scoups and his ex are mutually toxic when together but neither is villainized, dry humping, shower sex, oral (f and m receiving at different points), breast play, fingering, multiple orgasms (f receiving), dirty talk, two scenes from seungcheol’s pov

A/N: thank you to @sailorsoons and @eoieopda for beta-ing and to @kkaetnipjeon for naming almost every background character for me and teaching me about the Levels of Noona. Additional thank you to @/eoieopda again because seungcheol doing the ‘whats after like’ choreo at the wedding came from their brain not mine :’)

You wake up before your alarm again, anxiety prompting you to check the clock over and over, sure you missed your alarm, missed your hair appointment, missed the wedding as a whole.

You reach across the bed for your phone, opening one eye to check the time. You still have an hour to sleep. You set it back down and realize that you had to stretch to reach it because you’re sleeping in the middle of the bed, not over on your side. Seungcheol’s body is warm behind you, one arm heavy over your middle, his hand limp against the mattress, fingers just barely brushing your belly.

You don’t think about it at all; you’re mostly asleep, driven by your id. You turn in place, grabbing onto the hoodie he slept in, pulling yourself closer and burying yourself in the warmth he’s giving off like a furnace. He grunts in his sleep, once, then you feel his arm - still over your middle - tighten against your back, pulling you in closer. He shifts, snuggling deeper against the mattress, then presses his face against the top of your head, breathing deeply. He goes still again, back into deeper sleep.

Your hands are still clutching the fabric of his hoodie when your alarm wakes you again, an hour later.

Oh jeez, you think.

You let go slowly, flexing your fingers, then scoot away as gingerly as you can, trying not to disturb his sleep.

It doesn’t work.

“You leaving?” he asks sleepily, not opening his eyes. You’re not entirely sure he knows it’s you, or that he’s here.

“Have to go,” you whisper. “Nayoung’s got us scheduled for hair and make-up starting at eight.”

He struggles to open one eye. “Are you gonna be gone all day?”

“Yeah,” you tell him, sitting cross-legged on your side of the bed. “I’ll have to stay with Nayoung and the moms and the other bridesmaid for the day. They take getting-ready pictures and stuff. You can probably spend the day with my brother and Chan? And head to the venue when they do?”

You think he might pout, but it’s possible you imagine it. Probably, he’s just giving in to feeling sleepy.

You start to shift from the bed, but he grabs for your wrist, catching your fingers instead. You still, one foot on the ground, waiting to see what he wants.

He lifts his face, which is marred with sleep lines from the pillow. He squints at you. “Try and have fun today,” he says, and it punches you in the gut how he’s barely awake but he knows you need to hear this, knows you’re already in a spiral of anxiety about the day to come. “Don’t think about everything so much - just be in it, enjoy it for what it is.”

“Okay,” you say, so that he’ll let go. It’s an empty promise, probably. “Okay, I will.”

You’re first for hair and make-up, so you get to spend the rest of the day sitting in the bridal suite trying not to mess it up. You don’t hear from any of the guys until almost noon, when Seungcheol sends you a photo - himself, Chan, and Soonyoung clearly on the beach, all making goofy faces.

hope you’re having as much fun as we are, he says.

You tap back some exclamation points and then send, “i assure you, i am not.”

Seungcheol: how come? You: just sitting in silence around the bridal suite You: having the time of my life :) You: at least we start pictures in an hour… Seungcheol: wanna play 20 questions?

The smile that creeps across your face surprises you as much as his answer.

You: god im dating a dork You: yes. you go first.

Seungcheol keeps you entertained for the next hour, until the photographer shows up, at which point you have to stash your phone and smile nice until it’s time to load into a rented van to head to the venue.

It’s grey out, but no rain falls as you follow the other ladies into the venue and upstairs to a small bridal suite. You help Nayoung get changed into her gown - which, fine, is really, really pretty - and then lose another hour to pictures, but at least the room has trays of food and glasses of champagne.

Finally, the pre-wedding events seem to die down. Outside, you can see cars of people arriving, can hear the chosen pre-ceremony music begin to play as guests make their way in to find their seats. Venue staff go over the order of events, who you should stand behind, all the little details. Before you know it, you’re following Nayoung down the steps to the venue’s main entrance, your purple bridesmaid’s bouquet in hand.

The rows are full, leading up the aisle to where Jeongwoo is standing, waiting for his bride. But as you hear the processional start playing and you take your first steps into the crowded room, it isn’t Jeongwoo your eyes seek out. You eyes scan the rows until they spot him - hair styled to leave his forehead exposed, heavy brows lifted - in what? anticipation? happiness? - and mouth quirked to climb one side of his face, dimples asymmetrical and so damn endearing.

You look straight ahead again, stomach fluttering. You focus on Jeongwoo, on your brother standing beside him, grinning at you.

You reach the front and take your place to the side, watching the doors eagerly. You may have complicated feelings about Nayoung, you may feel like there’s gravel in your mouth at the thought of verbalizing any well-wishes or lifetime of happiness crap, but the moment still gets to you. With the swell of string music, the crisp white flowers hanging from the alcoves, the anticipation simmering through the room like mist above pavement after a summer day’s rainstorm - it’s impossible not to get caught up in it.

When Nayoung turns the corner, on your father’s arm, the room holds its breath for her - and you do, too.

But as Nayoung makes her way up the aisle and you let your eyes scan the crowd again, you notice there’s one face not watching her. Seungcheol, standing next to Chan, is facing front - not cheating sideways to view the bride. Instead, his gaze is steady on you, his brown eyes dancing.

The moment speaks to you. The music raises, your stomach swoops, and the grin on your face is unfettered. It takes a second, but then he smiles back, cheeks rising and dimples deepening.

It feels like you and him alone here, taking part in a moment that lets no one else in. It feels like the music, the moment, the breaths being held in tight anticipation are all for you - you and him. Just for a second.

You wish you were standing in the crowd with him, so you could lean close and ask what he’s smiling about. You wish you were standing in the crowd with him, so that you could make yourself small, let him be the buffer. You wish you were standing in the crowd with him because it’s just what you want.

Don’t think about everything so much, he’d told you.

When Nayoung reaches the front and moves to stand opposite Jeongwoo, you have to work to school your face into something somber, to fight the smile off your face. You don’t want to stand here, listening to the officiant talk about your sister’s life. You want to leave the line-up and go live your own.

Be in it, enjoy it for what it is.

Fine, you think, as to your left Nayoung is slipping a silver band onto Jeongwoo’s finger. That’s exactly what I’ll do.

You’ll stop thinking about everything, stop trying to fix everyone and just do what you fucking want - for maybe the first time in your whole life.

When the ceremony ends and you follow the newlyweds back down the aisle, you catch Seungcheol’s eye and wink once on your way past.

You make your way straight to him when you’re freed from bridesmaid duties. You’re surrounded by people - mostly your extended family - and you know he’s overheard when he wraps an arm around you, presses his lips to your temple and says, “You look beautiful.”

You feel your face warm from the compliment, but you force yourself to giggle. “Thank you,” you preen, leaning into the joke. “I spent a lot of money this morning to look like this.”

“Worth every penny,” he says, releasing you from the hug.

You take a step back, getting a good look at him for the first time. “You look pretty sharp yourself,” you admit, meaning it. “The tux is working for you.”

He deflects with a joke, just like you did. “It’s all in the shoes,” he deadpans. “They bring the whole thing together.”

“Did you rent them, too?” you tease.

“Too?” he echoes, offended. “I own all of this, thank you very much. I am a grown ass man.”

“Soonyoung and Chan both rented theirs.”

“Children.”

You laugh, and for show - or maybe just because it feels nice - you rest your fingers on his arm, like you’re trying to keep him from shifting too far away.

He responds to the touch by stepping back, asking, “You want a drink?”

“You know what? I do,” you tell him. Because you’re doing what you want, now. He gives your waist a quick squeeze in goodbye and heads for the bar; it occurs to you that he didn’t ask what you want.

You hear your name being called, and you fight to smile as you turn and greet two of your aunts, one of your younger cousins with them.

“Wasn’t Nayoung just perfection?” one of them says in greeting, and you smile and agree that, yes, your sister looked beautiful.

“Jeongwoo seems wonderful,” you add, just to show how unjealous you are of your sister’s happiness.

“Isn’t he handsome?” your cousin simpers. You keep your smile even - your refusal to let your politeness flag is the absolute best you can offer.

“What about you?” the second aunt asks, leaning close like it’s a secret. “Are you here alone? Such a shame, you’re a pretty girl -”

“Isn’t she?”

You swear to god you get goosebumps. Seungcheol presses a fizzy beverage into your hand. It’s adorned by a lime.

“They didn’t have your brand, but it’s still a decent gin,” he says, and you bring it to your lips. He knows your drink, you marvel, but you’ve been to bars together enough times that you guess this isn’t magical.

Still. Nice that he pays attention.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” you breathe, trying to smile and not look surprised.

Aware of the three sets of eyes on you, you lean into Seungcheol’s solid form and smile bigger as he slips an arm around your waist.

“Aunties, I’d like to introduce you to my boyfriend, Seungcheol,” you say, as sweet as you can. Your cousin’s eyes are a little wide, and it makes you want to dance. Take that, you think, not even caring that it’s all a ruse.

“Pleased to meet you,” one of your aunts says, reaching for his hand.

“These are my aunts,” you say, introducing them to Seungcheol by name, “and my little cousin.”

“Have you been together long?”

“Almost a year,” Seungcheol answers for you, sending you his own little wink when you look up at him.

“Wow,” your cousin says, sounding a little stunned. “We thought she’d be alone for-”

“How did you two meet?” her mother interrupts quickly.

“We met in college, but we didn’t date or anything then,” you say, still looking at him. You don’t want to look at them, don’t want to examine if they look doubtful or mean or anything. “He’s friends with Soonyoung, actually - we spent a lot of time in the same social circle but never took the leap.”

You hope the mention of your brother will distract them, but no dice.

“Oh?” your aunt asks. “Why not?”

It truly doesn’t occur to her that this is invasive, you think, lips pursing in annoyance.

“Ah,” Seungcheol ducks his head guiltily. “That’s my fault, probably. I thought it would upset Soonyoung if I dated his sister, so I never went for it.”

You grin at him, playing along. “Luckily, I don’t care if I make Soonyoung mad,” you joke. “So here we are!”

When you extract yourselves from the conversation, you drain the top quarter of your drink.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Seungcheol teases.

“Nope,” you agree easily. “And when we repeat it in three minutes, that won’t be painful either. Nor will the next time. Probably it won’t be painful until the sixth or seventh time.”

“Alright, alright,” he scolds, laughing. “I get the idea.”

“Just keep looking handsome and charming, and we’ll be fine,” you tell him, and you swear he flushes again.

“Don’t flatter me,” he mutters.

You send him an open grin and then turn to greet an uncle, the introduction poised on your tongue.

You end up being right. Your little routine stays cute and kind of funny through the next five run-ins with relatives - no stutters or slips, no mistakes or near-misses. You and Seungcheol riff off each other easily, in perfect step. And to be honest, after your first encounter, everyone else is pleasant and normal. Maybe, you consider, you had projected some insecurity onto your family. Maybe they aren’t as bad as you made them out to be - maybe they did, all along, just want to see you happy.

During a few moments of reprieve, Seungcheol turns to face you. He’s not crowding you, exactly, but the way he hovers over and around you makes you feel sort of sheltered. 

“About last night,” he says, teeth worrying the inside of his bottom lip. He lets the sentence rest there.

You hadn’t been sure you were going to talk about it. You find yourself relieved that he brought it up.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “I really hope that didn’t make you uncomfortable. We forgot to make the Blanket Wall, and I fell asleep during the movie -”

“It didn’t,” he interrupts, quiet, aware of the people milling around you. “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t -”

“No,” you say quickly, shaking your head. It had been your doing, after all. “I’m not.”

You both lapse into silence at this, both teetering on continuing to apologize, you bet.

“If you’re sure,” he says, a little uncertainly, like maybe he doesn’t believe you.

“No,” you say again. Your voice comes out soft, like it knows you shouldn’t admit this. But still, you murmur, “It was kind of nice, actually.”

Because you’re doing what you want, now.

There’s a little bit of warning in the look he gives you, so you laugh and make it a joke. “You’re very warm, you know.”

This makes him smile, the tension broken. “Believe it or not,” he says lightly, “I’ve heard that before. I can’t help it if I run like a personal space heater.”

“Useful in the winter,” you say, mock-seriously. Then, you’re both distracted by a passing plate of hors d’oeuvres.

You make it through cocktail hour and weave your way to the tables to find your seats. You have to admit that the rooms are beautiful - white flowers almost everywhere, even hanging from the rafters, candles’ flames dancing above mirrored centerpieces, the live string music soft and unobtrusive.

“I hope the speeches are quick,” you mutter, only for Seungcheol to hear. “I’m starving.”

He pats your shoulder sympathetically.

You find your seat easily by following the sound of your brother’s laughter.

“Noona!” he cries happily when you drop into the chair across from his. “I haven’t seen you since the ceremony! How’s it going?”

He makes it sound like it’s been years. Though, you consider, it has been at least an hour - and you hadn’t seen him once.

You eye him warily. Then you turn to Chan. “How drunk is he?”

“Worse than New Years, not as bad as his birthday,” Chan reports.

“Super,” you say sarcastically, as Seungcheol takes his seat next to you.

Down the table from you Nayoung and Jeongwoo lean in close, whispering to each other, as things get set up for the speeches and the rest of the guests find their dinner seats.

It feels a little strange, you admit to yourself, to watch Sheyla accept the microphone, flashing the staff member a thankful and nervous smile, her hand-written speech clutched in her hand. She greets everyone, thanks them for traveling, and makes a comment about how beautiful Nayoung looks that elicits happy claps, cheers, and whistles from the agreeing crowd.

There might be an alternate timeline, you think, in which your sister might have wanted you to speak. A timeline in which you might have anything to say that wasn’t about early childhood. A timeline in which at your own wedding (if it ever happens), you might want her, too.

“Hey,” Seungcheol whispers, leaning over, his mouth close enough to your ear that it tickles. “What do you think Soonyoung’s wedding will be like?”

You don’t know if he did it on purpose - you don’t know if he could tell you were in your head again, losing yourself to the thoughts - but just like that, you’re back, stifling a giggle behind your hand, turning towards him so you can whisper your answer.

“They’d have a tiger instead of a ring bearer,” you whisper, trying to keep your giggles silent, just shoulder shakes and hitches of breath.

“I can see the headlines now: Eight Mauled by Ring-Bearer at City Wedding Reception,” Seungcheol whispers out of the side of his mouth.

You nearly snort, ready to reply, but then Sheyla’s speech gets really underway and you lapse into silence, listening. About halfway through, maybe for show and maybe because you want to and maybe because you are trying to enjoy this for what it is, you reach out and lay your hand on top of Seungcheol’s where it rests on his leg. He immediately flips his over, taking your fingers in his, giving yours a squeeze.

Sheyla’s speech is good. It’s sweet, and to the point, and not too long. The best man - Jeongwoo’s brother, he says as he starts speaking - does a decent job as well, and you’re staring down at a plate of food before you know it.

“Happy now?” Seungcheol asks.

“Very,” you tell him, taking your first bite and moaning before even beginning to chew. “Oh my god, that’s good.”

“I want what she’s having,” Chan jokes.

“Chan, you are literally having what she’s having,” your brother points out, stabbing his utensils towards Chan’s plate.

After the plates are cleared away, the music increases in volume, changing from quiet background noise to upbeat dance tracks.

Soonyoung is gone in a flash, Chan heaving a sigh and pushing himself to stand like an old man. “Guess we’re dancing,” he says to you, long-suffering.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick,” you decide out loud. “Do you want to grab us fresh drinks? I’ll meet you at the bar in a minute?”

Seungcheol nods, and you slip through the room, smiling absently at familiar faces as you pass, until you exit the banquet room and enter the open foyer at the building’s front. Everything is instantly quieter as the glass doors close behind you, and you breathe the silence in, relaxing a little as you cast a glance around for the ladies’ room.

It’s tough to get in and out of your shapewear, but you make it happen. Then you wash your hands and check the mirror, leaning in to touch up your lipstick. Then you head back through the foyer, bracing yourself before entering the banquet room again.

When you enter, most people are up from the dinner tables, and the dance floor is packed. You see Nayoung and Jeongwoo at the center of it, and you stand and watch them for a second. Nayoung is glowing, her smile wide and genuine, her hands in the air as she dances next to her new husband.

Something in your stomach aches. You want this, want to love someone who feels like a best friend, want to smile beside them and have fun together, tackle every hard thing as a we. The wanting consumes you, twisting and painful, and you’re sure it’s all over your face - which makes you suddenly aware that you can feel eyes on you.

Seungcheol is at the bar to your left, and yes, he’s looking at you, his face unreadable, two glasses on the bar in front of him. Your mother is standing from her seat at a table to your right, and she makes her way towards you.

You brace yourself. She embraces you, which you weren’t expecting, going a little stiff.

“My dear,” she says, stepping back and looking at you searchingly. “I just want you to have this. This happiness.”

It was the same thing you’d been thinking, and you’re sure she saw it on you. But the words sting, make you prickle. Not everyone’s happiness looks the same, you want to retort, but then you remember the ruse. You twist in her embrace, looking over your shoulder. Seungcheol still waits for you, one elbow on the bar, still watching you. It drives you crazy that you can’t read his expression - there’s nothing there for you to grasp, not pity, not frustration, nothing.

“He’s waiting for me,” you answer. It’s your own twisty joke - answering we want you to have somebody with a bit of a he’s right over there. The fact that it isn’t true leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You pull free from your mother’s hands and hurry to chase the taste away with the burn of alcohol.

“Want to do some shots?” you ask, as soon as Seungcheol’s in earshot.

He seems to do some mental calculations, first looking at the untouched gin and tonic he has waiting for you, then up at your mother’s retreating form, then finally at your face.

“If you think you can handle it,” he says evenly.

You feel your eyes narrow. “Don’t worry about what I can handle. I can take care of myself.”

He doesn’t answer this, so you turn to get the bartender’s attention and order something you know you’ll both be okay with.

When they come, you take one little glass and hold it up, a challenge. Seungcheol’s face is still unreadable, and it’s still infuriating.

“To happily ever after,” you say flatly, a challenge.

“To happily ever after, and all the other things I don’t really believe in,” he counters, and clicks his glass against yours before knocking the clear liquid back.

You don’t salute anything with the second shot, just throw it back and reach for the cocktail that’s been sweating onto the bar, waiting for you.

“Come on,” you say.

Seungcheol doesn’t move. He watches your face carefully. “You good?” he asks.

A million retorts jump to your tongue, defensive and acidic, because you’re kind of not and you hate that he can read it.

It isn’t your job to care, is the first one and you barely swallow it down.

“I will be,” you tell him, determined to make it true. “Can we go dance?”

You leave your drink at your seat and head to the dance floor, following the sounds of whoops and laughter that you know will lead to your brother. You lose a lot on the dancefloor - an hour, your sour mood, even Seungcheol for a few minutes, but he turns back up a few songs later, swaying his hips and lip-syncing a circle around you, giggles bubbling out of you unbidden.

You’re about to take a break, starting to make your way towards the table for a breather, when you hear opening notes that tickle your brain, familiar and loved - “what’s after like” by IVE. Somewhere nearby, you hear Soonyoung’s absolutely maniacal laugh.

“Ohhhh, I love this song,” you announce to no one, starting the choreo on-beat. It surprises you absolutely not at all to see your brother a few feet away, grinning madly as he steps in time with you. Nor does it surprise you to see Chan pick it up a few steps later, mouthing the words as he tries to remember the steps. But you are absolutely floored when you turn to your right and see Seungcheol swishing his hips and lifting his hand, perfectly in step with you.

Shock causes you to react without thinking, without the chance to be careful. Surprised laughter bursts from you, loud and happy, and Seungcheol beams back at you proudly, laughing in return.

“What?” he asks playfully, still hitting the choreography with precision. “You didn’t think I knew this one?”

“What goes on at that apartment when I’m not there?” you demand, still laughing so hard it hurts your belly. “I thought I knew you!”

“I contain multitudes!” he shoots back, dimples deepening, hips still swishing without even a hint of shame.

You’re still giggling on every exhale as the song winds to an end, one hand over your aching diaphragm.

“Let’s slow things down,” the DJ says as you try to reign in your remaining mirth. “This one’s for the couples.” A love-song starts, one of those oldies, crooner types.

You’re about to step out, as you’d been planning before the IVE song came on, but Seungcheol reaches for your hand, brows raised in a question.

“Aren’t we a couple?” he teases.

You give a quick head-tilt, as if to say, can’t argue with that, and then you take the offered hand.

He tugs you close, front to front, and holds you steady by your waist. You’re surprised - again - when he leads well, and after a few seconds you relax into it, swaying and turning as the music intends. His hand on your waist feels good, warm and comforting and maybe a little exciting. Your front brushing his seems somehow tantalizing, which you realize is logically ridiculous, but you can’t deny the thrill of it each time. You wonder if he’s affected, too, and you look up at him, determined to read him for once instead of the other way around.

He’s looking back at you, a hint of a smile on his lips, and you swear his hands tighten on you when your eyes meet. He looks like he’s on the precipice of saying something - but what?

“What is it?” You mean to ask it quietly but normally, and instead you hear yourself murmur the question, loaded and suggestive.

His smile ticks up, just slightly, as if he’s amused that you caught him. “Just… you really do look great tonight,” he says. His face doesn’t give anything away, but the tips of his ears darken just slightly. “I mean, this dress.”

Careful, you almost say, warning bells sounding in your head. But then you remember him telling you, don’t think so much, so you push the admonishment away and give into the moment instead.

“Oh?” you say lightly, a gloating smile crawling across your face. “Tell me more.”

He laughs, giving you a petulant little shake as if to scold you for your teasing. “Don’t act like you don’t know,” he says, his voice suddenly lower. His gaze skates up your form, and you feel something hot simmer behind your belly button, your face heat under the compliment.

“Well, thank you,” you say to your shoes.

“Hey,” he says, and you manage to look back up at him, burning up under his scrutiny. “I’m glad you asked me to come with you. I hope it’s… I hope it’s better, with me here. I mean, I hope what you wanted -”

The song ends, and you step away automatically. His hands fall from you along with the end of his sentence.

“It is,” you assure him. “You’re - I mean - this is exactly what I needed.”

The you’re exactly what I needed that you almost said stretches between you.

“I think I could use some air,” you say, and you don’t wait to see if he’s following before you head for the glass doors that lead outside.

This turns out to be true; the night air soothes you immediately, the noise and bustle of the banquet room falling away as Seungcheol - who, it seems, did follow you - closes the door behind himself. There are a few other people out here - some smokers, way down at the other end, and a few other couples standing and watching the night sky - but it’s not crowded by any means.

You lean against the stone wall and watch the party through the glass, muted and distant. Seungcheol settles beside you, and you’re both quiet for a moment.

Then, without looking at you, he says, “Have you ever tried being honest with them?”

You whip around to look at him, indignant. “What?”

He shrugs, unbothered by your potential impending fury. “Your mom, at least,” he tries to explain. “What would happen if you just… were your real self?”

“And what’s that?” you demand. “What’s my real self, Seungcheol?”

“Angry, I think,” he says, something careful in the way he says it, like he’s holding something delicate. And he is: the truth. “What if you didn’t hide from her how angry you are?”

“Let’s not do this,” you say flatly - a defense tactic. A sidestep, a way to never acknowledge that he’s right.

“What would happen?” he presses.

The words come, new and frightening. She could leave, too. She might not want me, either. You don’t say them.

“Let’s not,” you repeat. Then, petulantly, you mutter, “I’m not angry.”

You both know it’s a lie.

“That’s a shame,” he says, and you can tell by his voice that he’s turned to face you, is hovering just slightly closer. “I kind of liked thinking that you were. It made me feel like… we matched.”

You swallow, then turn to look at him. He’s chewing on the inside of his bottom lip again, something you’re starting to notice as a nervous habit.

“Are you angry?” you ask. It comes out as a whisper. What a silly question, you think. Of course he is. Now that he’s said it, it seems clear as day.

“Not right now,” he admits, and there’s a sudden familiarity to the way his body crowds yours, not unpleasantly, a familiarity to the intensity of his gaze and the thrum of excitement shooting from your sternum to your core like a live wire.

He’s going to kiss you, you realize. Should you step away? Swerve it? Do you want to kiss him?

It’s probably a mistake, a stupid decision, but… you think you might.

Enjoy today for what it is, he’d told you.

So when he leans in, you stretch onto your toes to meet him midway.

You kiss him back eagerly, slamming mental doors shut on every voice in your head telling you this is a bad idea. His hand comes to the back of your neck, his thumb resting along your jaw, caressing it lightly as he tips your head further back to adjust the angle.

You tug him even closer by his lapels, and he snakes his free arm around your waist, pulling your bodies flush together. You lick into his mouth first, unashamed, wanting. He responds with a happy rumble, almost too quiet to hear. You release his suit jacket and loop your arms around his neck, holding on as you lose yourself to the taste of him, the smell of him, the feel of him solid and steady against you.

You kiss languidly, deeply - not hurried or frantic, not rushed the way so many kisses you’ve encountered have been. He holds you right where he wants you and takes his time; what this says about how he’d likely be in bed makes the blood rush from your head to your pussy. Your core throbs as you try to pull him tighter against you, press your hips against his. He leaves your mouth to nibble and soothe a line down your throat, goosebumps rising on your arms, and the hand on your waist travels lower and grabs a generous handful of your ass, pulling you more firmly against him.

You can feel him now, against your lower belly, and you let out a noise that’s embarrassingly close to a whine. You feel his lips stretch into a smirk against your neck, and then he’s kissing you again, drowning out any other noises you might let slip.

You’ve forgotten everything - the smattering of other people nearby, Nayoung’s wedding raging on inside, the anger Seungcheol had pointed out only minutes ago, how very aware you are that this is playing with fire - it all melts away to nothing as you press your mouth to his, strokes his tongue with yours, press your body against his as firmly as you can.

“Hey! Lovebirds!”

You leap apart, your hand flying to cover your mouth as if that will help.

Your brother hangs out the open glass door, eyes narrowed at you. “They’re cutting the cake,” he calls, and then disappears inside.

“Shit,” you manage. You know you’ll hear about this later.

Beside you, Seungcheol shifts, adjusting himself, and runs a sobering hand down his face.

“Guess we better go in,” you say breathlessly, your heart hammering against your ribs.

“I guess we should,” he says, sounding a little winded himself.

You wonder, as you make your way back inside, if you should talk about it. Then, Seungcheol’s long strides catch him up to you and he places his hand on your lower back, guiding you firmly through the room, and the rest of your logical thoughts melt away.

You watch Nayoung and her new husband cut their wedding cake, sweetly feed each other a bite. You hit the bathroom again, fix your lipstick, come back and do a shot with Chan just because he asks (shouts). You go back to the dance floor, take a break to drink some water at your table, find yourself having a conversation with one of your cousins about a drama you’d both hated.

But even as you go through these perfectly normal events, your body remains singed; the heat rises from you so strongly you can’t believe no one is pointing and staring. Something has shifted, cracked open, and the possibility of it hangs over you and Seungcheol so thickly you think you might choke. Every movement you make, you feel the weight of his gaze or the heat of his hands - always reaching to guide you, to ground you, even just the press of his fingers to your elbow igniting you all over again.

Time drags and you burn slowly. The first shuttle leaves. Your mother makes a snide remark about your father too loudly as he and his date depart. You can’t even care, not when Seungcheol is standing so close behind you, his smell pervading your senses, his warmth radiating around you.

You want to keep kissing him. You are praying he won’t back down in the quiet of your hotel room, won’t try to walk it back once you’re alone. From behind you, his fingers slip into yours, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. It’s nothing, but you tingle clear down to your toes from the touch.

You tell your mother goodbye, that you’ll see her in the morning. You say goodbye to the family members who came from out of town, that you probably won’t see again soon. You get your purse from the table. Seungcheol hovers behind you like smoke hovers above a flame.

You’re both going to burn.

You take the second shuttle back to the hotel. You don’t speak or look at each other. There’s a moment where you wonder if he will snuff this out, deprive it of oxygen. You wouldn’t blame him. You know it’s the logical thing.

But then he places his hand on your thigh in the dark. You hold your breath, don’t even dare to peek sideways. It’s an innocent placement, firmly in the middle, not too high. Then his sneaky fingers trace lower, find the place where the fabric splits just above your knee, the pads of his fingers rubbing patterns on the bare skin they find.

A whole-body shudder engulfs you. His fingers tighten around your leg for just a second, rough, then go back to drawing circles.

Ridiculous, you think, closing your eyes and trying to even your breathing, that such a simple touch could turn you on this much. It must be from all the build-up, all the drinking, all the potential of a thing not yet had. There’s no way that it’s just Seungcheol touching your leg - not even a sexy part - that has you wet to the point of discomfort, panties slick.

When the shuttle pulls up in front of your hotel, you lead him by the hand up the aisle and into the lobby. The second the elevator doors slide shut behind you, he has you pinned to the wall, his hot mouth attached to your throat, large hands cupping your ass and pulling you tight against him.

“Have you been hard since the venue?” you tease, but the way you’re panting takes away any sting.

“Been hard since you showed up in this dress,” he growls back, pushing his hips into yours for emphasis. You’d expected him to lob a joke back at you, and the admission makes your stomach drop, your mouth open to gasp a breath.

The elevator dings and he steps back, one hand on your waist to help steady you back on your feet. Somehow, you make it to your room. Somehow, the door gets open, and then closed again behind you.

You’re against a wall again, eyes closed, head back, that hot mouth finding the spot it had left in the elevator. Seungcheol’s hands bunch the fabric of the dress and push it up to your hips, giving you room to wrap your legs around his waist, push his clothed cock directly against your sopping, useless panties. You both break at the contact, you letting out a pitiful whimper and Seungcheol huffing out a shuddering breath.

You wrap your arms around his neck to hold yourself up; his hands are both on your ass again, fingers slipping beneath the elastic to grip at the bare skin there. His teeth and tongue make their way up your neck and return to your mouth and you open for him with an eager moan, happy to welcome him back. Your fingers lazily find the hair at the base of his neck and curl between the strands, tugging lightly. He moans against your mouth, surprising you both.

His hips push against yours in a steady rhythm, but it’s not enough. You whine against his mouth, one hand leaving his shoulders to come between your bodies, seeking his jacket.

He has to set you down to tug at the sleeves, and you wobble on your heels, suddenly very aware of how badly you want to take them off. You lift one foot to tug at the straps and he reaches for your elbows to steady you. It’s soft; a stark contrast to the carefully-stoked flame you’ve both been tending for the last hour or so.

You take off both heels and stand, barefoot, the wall behind you still holding you up. Seungcheol looks at you, chest working hard as he tries visibly to calm his breathing, his suit jacket now limp in his hand.

“Should we stop?” he asks, and it’s the most uncertain you’ve ever heard him sound.

You don’t want to stop. You know he doesn’t either. But you both know what this was - a favor between friends. Sort of friends. There wasn’t supposed to be attraction; there wasn’t supposed to be anything that wasn’t for show.

You weren’t supposed to like him.

“Probably,” you make yourself whisper. The word feels like ash on your tongue.

“Okay,” he says, the syllables hollow, and he takes another step backwards, gives you more room.

Eyes averted, you take off your jewelry with shaking hands, place it in the small bag with your makeup kit. When you turn back, he hasn’t moved. He stands there, still holding his suit jacket, watching you with smoldering eyes.

“I think I’ll shower,” you say quietly. What you really want to do is push him backwards, let his knees hit the edge of the bed, crawl over top of him and keep him there for several hours. Instead, you reach around and feel for the hook-and-eye at the top of your back, fingers sloppy with adrenaline.

“Need help?” he asks, his voice like the snap of a candle flame that suddenly alights.

“I might,” you admit with a little laugh. But if you touch me, you think, it’s over.

You turn to present your back to him, and he handles the clasp deftly, even going so far as to drag the zipper down two inches so you can reach it better.

“There,” he says.

His fingers graze your bare back as he pulls away.

You step into the bathroom, turn the water on, and unzip the rest of the way, letting the expensive material flutter to the ground around you - the door still wide open. Seungcheol’s gaze on your body burns as it travels down, then up again. His expression is almost enough to make you laugh - wonder, a touch of confusion. You hold his gaze as you slip your panties down your legs, then you step into the water, letting the glass door swing shut behind you, effectively hiding him from view.

It’s impressive how quickly he gets the tux off, and you’re almost a little sad you don’t get to see it happen. But it feels like seconds later that the shower door swings open again and he steps inside, pressing against the tile, the hot water cascading over his wide shoulders.

“You sure?” he asks, hands already on you, one on your waist, the other on one of your shoulders. He asks like it’s pulled from him, like he’ll crumble if you say no but he has to make sure.

“That wasn’t enough of an invitation for you?” you breathe, reaching to run your fingertips down his chest, over the slight ripples that just barely hide abs, stopping just shy of the flat plane above his cock, which hangs heavy and dark between you.

You don’t get the opportunity to touch; he kisses you fiercely, both hands coming up to cover your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples in tandem. When you sigh against him, he switches to pinching, first lightly, and then harder when he finds it makes you moan like liquid against his lips.

He moves his mouth slowly up your jaw, fingers still working the sensitive nubs until you’re fighting the urge to writhe under his touch, needing somehow both less and more at the same time.

“Yeah, babe?” he coos into your ear, barely a whisper. He gives one nipple a particularly cruel twist and your knees give. He holds you up without issue. “You like when it hurts a little?”

“Cheol,” you whine, embarrassed but aflame, pussy absolutely pulsing.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, releasing the bud and bending to soothe it with gentle laps of his tongue. The water hits his head and you run your hands through the now-wet black locks, pushing them away from his face and back from his eyes.

When he stands again, you reach for him immediately, fingers sliding along the silky skin you find. He’s warm here, too. He breathes out a sigh when your fingers encircle him, your touch featherlight and easing. Then he presses close to you again, sliding his palm down your stomach, lower and lower, until two of his rough fingers part your folds, slip over your clit, and sink into the mess they find.

“God,” you groan, pushing down on his digits, trying to will them deeper. He presses his temple against yours, mouth still close to your ear, his breaths ragged and sharp, as he scissors his fingers lightly before pumping in and out.

“So wet,” he grumbles, thumb swiping at your clit and making your hips jolt. “You fuckin’ want it?”

You try to answer, letting out a shuddery y-yes, but it dissolves into a moan deep in the back of your throat as he finds the spot on your front wall that makes everything inside you tighten.

“Oh, you do,” he goads, doubling his pace to piston into the spot. You clutch at his biceps, trying to hold yourself up, trying to keep yourself on this planet. You’re astounded at how quickly he works you up; you didn’t know you could cum this quickly, but you teeter on the precipice already, eyes rolling back and breaths coming in tight little gasps.

“Seungcheol,” you moan, trying to warn him, “I’m - it’s too -”

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, still close to your ear. The hand that’s not buried inside you returns to your chest, tweaking a nipple and then brushing over it before tweaking again. “Let go, babe. Let me have it.”

One of your hands slaps against the tile walls, desperate for purchase. Your hips cant into his hand, driving him harder inside you. He slips a third finger inside you without warning and the sudden stretch is what does you in. Your eyes screw shut as you whole body tenses tenses tenses and then releases, a cry flying from your mouth as his fingers fuck you through the high. Your legs tremble as your pussy tries to pull his digits further inside, and then his mouth is on yours again, tongue coaxing out the last few syllables as you begin to come down.

For a minute you hear nothing but the roar in your ears and your own harsh pants. This gives way to the sound of water hitting tile.

“Shit,” you mutter, and Seungcheol kisses you again, close-lipped and firm, like he’s marking his place.

“You’re so hot,” he murmurs against your lips, and then they’re gone because you’re kneeling.

He swears above you, one hand reaching up to brace against the wall, as you try to settle. It’s not comfortable, of course, but you didn’t expect it to be, and you want to absolutely scramble his brain right now.

“You don’t have to -” he starts, but you ignore him and take his tip into your mouth, tonguing the underside before starting to work a rhythm up and down his length. His body mostly shelters you from the spray of water, and you use one hand to pump at the base of him as your mouth works the top.

He swears again, fiercely, the hand on the tile curling into a fist. “God,” he groans, eyes slipping shut for a second. His hips buck lightly once and then he gets it together, holding it back. “Fuck.”

You hum, delighted at being able to pull him apart, suctioning hard and laving the underside of him with your tongue. He’s a little thicker than you’re used to, heavy in your mouth in a way you find weirdly comforting. You work your way to the tip again, letting your tongue tease his slit before slipping your lips over his head in a way that makes his hips jump again.

“Okay, okay,” he gasps, minutes later, reaching a desperate hand to keep you back. “I can’t - get up here.”

Smug, you let him pull you to standing; he wraps his arms around you and you can feel his heart hammering against yours. You brace one foot against the opposing wall and he slips his fingers between your legs again. You moan, still sensitive, as he lines himself up. The stretch is going to be a lot, you can already tell, and your whole body buzzes with the want of it.

He pushes into you slowly, a strangled sound working up your throat as you breathe through the initial stretch.

“That’s right,” he whispers, hands on your hips. “You can take it.”

He stills when he bottoms out and you both just breathe, holding each other, the water raining down around you.

“So fucking good,” he whispers, pressing his forehead into the top of your shoulder, trying to keep still until you give him the okay.

“God,” you groan, so full you could die from it, your walls already fluttering around him even as he holds still. “I can’t - it’s so much -”

He lifts his head and kisses you sweetly, one hand cupping your jaw. “You can,” he tells you when you break apart. “Just relax. I said I’ve got you, didn’t I?”

“Mhm,” you breathe, letting your eyes slip closed. He moves minutely at first, and when you let out a breath that borders on a moan he slides nearly all the way out. You nearly wail when he sheathes himself again, your body working to accommodate him, your walls clinging to every centimeter of his hot flesh as it works through you. “Cheol,” you gasp, keening loudly when he does it again.

He continues this unhurried pace, pumping out and in until you’re melting under his hands, creaming over him, the mess washed away by the shower water every time he pulls out.

“How is it, baby?” he murmurs, when he feels you relax.

“So good,” you mutter, half-delirious. Your hands come to grip at him, needy. “But -”

“What is it?” he asks, stopping immediately in place, leaning back to look at your face.

You flush, hating to ruin the moment. “The water’s cold,” you whisper, a sheepish smile coming to your face.

He laughs, then pulls out. You feel empty, you want him back before he’s even gone. He reaches over you and turns the water off; the silence is suddenly very loud.

“Guess I better warm you up, then,” he says, voice low, and you shiver - probably not from the chill of the air. He fishes around outside the shower door and then wraps you in a white hotel towel, then grabs one for himself. He towels his arms off roughly and then wraps it securely around his waist before turning his attention back to you. He dries you carefully, top to bottom, then wraps it around your frame again.

“Come on,” he says, and leads you back out to the main room, where he nods at the bed. “Lay down. At the end.”

You stare at him. “What?”

He smiles at you devilishly, dimples flashing. “Gotta warm you up,” he says simply.

“But - I already - you don’t need to -”

He gives you a light, playful push that sends you stumbling towards the bed. You lay your towel down and feel his hands on your bare ass before you can even situate yourself.

“Maybe I’ll just bend you over here,” he murmurs, and you feel yourself gush, embarrassingly.

You lay back on your towel and he kneels at the end of the bed. You feel so exposed, suddenly, spread open for him, that it makes you want to close up, wrap the towel back over yourself.

“Don’t get shy now,” he admonishes lightly, pressing his fingers to your inner thighs to push you open. “Let me see you, pretty girl.”

He presses a single kiss right over your entrance, then slips his tongue inside, working the muscle as far into you as it will go. You gasp, open-mouthed, the ceiling swimming above you.

“Please,” you beg, but you don’t know what for. He licks a stripe up your slit, stopping over your clit and flattening his tongue. You feel your hips react on their own, pushing against his mouth desperately. “Seungcheol, please!”

He laps at you and then slides a digit into your greedy hole, humming happily when you cry out. Your thighs start shaking wildly when he suctions his lips there, sucking lightly as he pushes a second finger into the slick heat beneath his mouth.

“Goddamn it,” he groans when he pulls away, watching his fingers disappear into your body and reappear shiny and sticky. Then he reattaches his mouth to your pussy, tongue flicking firmly against your hardened bud until you’re letting out an endless, wordless whine and trembling in his hold.

“Seungcheol, Seungcheol, Cheol,” you chant, desperate, wild, but he pulls away, slips his fingers out of you. You whine furiously, eyes springing open to look at him in betrayal, and he grins, standing and pumping himself roughly. The head of his cock is angry and dark, a long string of precum connecting to his thigh where it must have been resting.

“Not yet,” he says, coming to stand at the edge of the bed, reaching above to reach for a pillow to slide under your hips. He teases your hole with his tip and you whine again. “Want you to come around my cock this time,” he says, pushing in, and you nearly fucking do just at that.

When he starts moving - harder and quicker than he had in the shower - you shatter into pieces almost instantly, everything going black as you grip the sheets beneath you so hard you think you could rip them, your legs locking around his back so he can’t get too far from you, your core pulsing and pulsing in waves around him as you grit your teeth and groan through the rush of sensation.

He braces himself over you with both arms, and as soon as you unclench he lets loose - hips snapping into yours lewdly, his balls slapping your ass with every thrust, sweat sliding down his temples, and his exhales coming out as determined growls as he chases his high.

“Fuck,” he utters suddenly, scrambling backwards, his hand flying to pump himself frantically. His brows furrow and his chest heaves. “Fuck, fuck, babe, God,” he moans, eyes shut, and you watch in proud fascination as he shoots rope after rope of milky cum onto your stomach.

He collapses next to you, breathing heavily, then reaches up and caresses your shoulder as he comes down. There’s something sweet in the gesture, you think absently, like he wants to feel that you’re still here. You reach up a hand and clumsily find his, intertwining your fingers and holding on tightly as your heartbeat slows and your skin begins to cool.

After a few minutes, silent but for the sound of both of your breathing gradually returning to normal, you let go, rolling to face him.

“Should I apologize for baiting you?” you ask, a little sheepishly.

Seungcheol’s eyes flick up to yours, and he smiles a tiny, tired smile. “No,” he promises. 

You lay like that for a minute, quiet - Seungcheol on his back, watching the ceiling, and you on your side, watching him.

Finally he grunts and uses his arms to push himself to sitting, then standing. He holds out a hand for you and helps you up. You waddle to the bathroom in tandem. You each clean up in silence. 

You aren’t sure what to say. You’re surprised (but not upset) at yourself, honestly, for making the choice you did. You’re surprised at how fucking good it was, at how Seungcheol’s tenderness bled through in disjointed pieces. 

There’s no use pretending otherwise. You like him. Not enough to wax poetic about it, not enough to make a fool of yourself, but enough. Enough that you feel that wild, hopeful possibility. Like maybe - maybe something is starting. Maybe when you go home, you’ll start talking more. Maybe it will lead to something. Maybe he’ll ask you out. Maybe… maybe.

When you drop back into the bed, lights off, you aren’t sure what the move is. You lay on your side of the bed, stiff and trying not to breathe loudly, your eyes slowly adjusting to the dark.

Seungcheol makes the decision for you,  reaching for you in the dark, his strong arms guiding you closer, wrapping around you and keeping you close. For the second time, you fall asleep between his arms, face buried against his t-shirt, feeling warm, and loose, and safe.

When you open your eyes again, it’s still mostly dark, the room around you that deep blue that comes along with pre-dawn.

Your back is to Seungcheol now, but he’s still draped around you, an arm resting over your stomach and one of his legs tangled between yours. You stretch a little, your toes reaching for the end of the bed, and he shifts behind you, his hand moving up and gripping your waist.

You breathe quietly for a minute, waiting to see if sleep will drag you back under. It doesn’t. Instead, you become aware of his breathing behind you (not deep and even anymore), his heartbeat (faster now, like yours), the way his hand twitches and relaxes against your side.

He’s awake, too.

He shifts, then retracts his hand and rolls away. You’re cold immediately, instincts telling you to follow the source of warmth, to roll over and follow him.

You give in halfway, rolling to face him but not scooting to close the new gap between you in the bed.

“You good?” you ask quietly, your voice a little hoarse.

You hear rather than see him shift to look over at you. “Yeah,” he says, and there’s something tense in his tone. “Just - sorry - it’s just a morning thing, I wasn’t trying to bother you…”

You realize, belatedly, the reason he’d put space between you. Heat floods you again, as if you hadn’t just had every need fulfilled about three and a half hours ago.

“I’m not bothered,” you say, and your tone must speak for you, because the words have barely fallen into the space between you and he’s filling it, rolling to reach for your jaw, pulling you in for a kiss, body scooting forward to press against yours again.

It’s different this time, as the blue shifts from something shadowed and bruised closer to light. It’s different when he kisses you slowly, gently, your mouths working together as you wake up bit by bit. It’s different when he cups your breast firmly but doesn’t pinch, tugs your hips tight against his but only holds you there, different when he rolls you onto your back and holds himself over you, kissing every bit of skin he can get his mouth on above the collar of your pajama top.

It’s different because you take your time as you remove your sleep-clothes, his eyes drinking you in through the barest whisper of morning light. He takes his time pressing into you, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, pressing his fingers into your skin and holding tight like you could get ripped away.

Different from last time, because neither of you says a word, expressing pleasure only in sighs, breaths caught in throats, in fingers tightening, in low groans that the air-con nearly manages to drown out.

This time, when you tip over the edge, he does too - pulling out quickly and replacing his cock with three fingers to work you through it, even as he wraps his other hand around himself, his own high only heartbeats away.

This time, you don’t trip back into sleep. After cleaning up, you lay with an arm over his middle, his heart thumping reliably under your ear.

Instead of closing your eyes, you whisper, “Are you close with your family?”

He’s still for a minute - surprised, maybe - and then he whispers back, “Pretty close with my mom, yeah.”

You take a second, process this gift he’s given you - a nugget of truth, a piece of himself. Not something secret, but still something willingly given.

“Not your dad?” you ask, eventually. “Did he leave after the split?”

“We went back and forth,” Seungcheol says quietly. “My brother and I. But things with my dad… it was never the same, after. Mom’s place still felt like home. Dad’s felt like… visiting a relative you don’t know that well.”

“Us, too,” you say, then realize you should expand. “In the early days, Soonyoung and I saw my dad a bit more. It always felt… weird. And then, I don’t know, we stopped wanting to go - or he stopped wanting us to come. Something.”

You’re still talking, voices hushed, when your alarm goes off behind you, warning you that brunch with your family is imminent. You’d talked all night, somehow. You realize that the light streaming in from under the curtains is bright - no longer the deep-ocean blue of late night and early morning.

“Shit,” you say, startled, rolling away to silence the offending noise. “We’re going to be so tired later.”

Seungcheol groans lightly in agreement. “Do you think your brother is pissed?” he asks. “He saw us kissing at the venue. I’m sure he saw you drag me into the hotel from the shuttle.”

You whack lightly at his legs with a pillow. “I did not drag you!”

His giggles light your spirit from the inside. “You did,” he asserts. “Not that I’m complaining.”

You decide to humor him and answer the original question, as you climb out of bed and head for your suitcase to dig out your clothes for the day. “I don’t think he’ll be mad unless we’re weird, like suddenly we can’t hang out anymore. So, we’re fine, right?”

You shouldn’t phrase it like a question. You shouldn’t give him the option.

But of course he doesn’t let you down.

“We’re more than fine,” he assures, running a hand through his hair so that it flops back down messily over his brow.

You wonder if he feels it, too - the maybe of it all. The possibility. Is he, too, wondering what this could look like on the other side, if you decided to give it a try?

You shower his smell off you, scrub away sweat and cum. When you’re both ready, you head down to the dining hall to meet Nayoung and everyone else for brunch.

You’re waylaid in the lobby by Dumb and Dumber.

“Good morning,” Soonyoung says, and it is fully an accusation that lands at your feet as heavily as an anvil might.

“Good morning!” you chirp back, just to fuck with him a little.

“Anything you two want to tell me?” he demands, as subtle as a freight train. Behind him, Chan looks uncharacteristically serious.

You look at him appraisingly. “Your shirt is nice,” you offer innocently.

His eyes narrow, and he turns his gaze to Seungcheol, who simply shrugs, offering him nothing. Your brother turns back to you, exasperated. “Noona!”

You laugh. “Nothing you need to worry about!” you say, reaching to ruffle his hair - which you didn’t have to stand on tiptoes to do, years ago. He bats you away, scowling, but you sense some tension leave him, like he might have been actually worried about the ramifications of your decisions last night.

He’s a good kid.

When you enter the dining hall, it’s clear that the four of you are the last to arrive. Inside, the newlyweds chat animatedly with both your mom and your dad (who is here sans date, you notice), as well as Jeongwoo's family.

“Sorry!” you say brightly, taking one of the empty seats. “Are we late?”

It's Nayoung who answers you, equally bright. You wonder if it's equally fake.

“Right on time!” she says, all smiles.

You've barely settled into your seat when your phone buzzes in your pocket. You glance quickly, suppressing an eye roll when you see Soonyoung's name.

Brother of mine: well???

Across the table, you shoot him an annoyed look.

He does not seem admonished in the slightest. Tilting your phone so that (hopefully) Seungcheol can't see it, you type back “what??”

He sends, “Did you?!” followed immediately by, “nvm i know you did. so... now what?”.

“Nosy fuck,” you reply, and turn off your screen.

Conversation flows around you, led mostly by the two sets of parents, allowing you and Seungcheol to eat in peace. Your mom seems better today, more herself, and you wonder if she's less stressed just because the wedding is over now, or if it's the absence of your dad's date.

When the meal comes to a close, you tell everyone goodbye, giving your parents quick hugs. Nayoung surprises you, coming around the table to hug you tightly.

“I'm so glad you could be here,” she tells you, and you think it's just niceties until she pulls away to look at you, her hands still firmly on your shoulders as if to keep you in place. “Don't feel like you have to handle everything yourself,” she continues. “Lean on people when you need to. If not me, then your friends. Soonyoung. Seungcheol.”

You’re not sure if you’re more shocked at her advice or the fact that she remembered your “boyfriend’s” name.

“Okay,” you say hollowly, unsure how to respond, how to act, how to feel. You land somewhere near indignant, maybe, that she showed up out of nowhere and immediately saw right through you. She'd never spent time with you past the age of nine, and she still had your number right away.

You trail along with the group back to the hotel's lobby, towards the elevator bank. Seungcheol doesn't do any of the normal boyfriend stuff - touch your arm, hold your hand, any of it - but you're so caught up in the strange interaction with Nayoung that you barely notice.

You have less time than you expected to pack and get back to the airport, so once you’re in the room you don’t talk much as you move around each other like a choreographed waltz, squeezing by to grab at items and shove them in suitcases. When the shuttle pulls up to the airport, you’re bouncing with nerves, hating how close you’re cutting it.

You don’t relax again until you’re through security and speed-walking towards your gate, with about fifteen minutes to spare.

“No time for a beer,” you lament. “But I guess I better go to the bathroom.”

Seungcheol nods. “I’ll wait for you by the gate?”

When you return, wiping your hands on your jeans because of course the shitty hand-dryers barely work, he’s waiting as promised, and you join him in line.

In your seats, he closes his eyes and rubs at his face. “I think I’ll be asleep before we even take off,” he admits quietly.

You smile coyly, looking at him sideways. “I’d say sorry, but…”

He shoots you back an indulgent smile, letting you know he gets the joke.

He turns out to be right - he’s asleep before you take off, head lolling sideways and hands slack on his lap. He doesn’t even stay awake long enough to hear the safety speech - but he does stay awake long enough to pass you an earbud first.

As the squares of brown and green give way to only cloud cover as the plane ascends, you cave, cracking beneath sleep deprivation and travel exhaustion, soothing over insecurities about different interactions you had with your family, distracting you from obsessing over your now even more complicated relationship with your sister. You let yourself daydream, give in to the urge to wonder what it might look like - the something you’d felt bubbling between you. If you go home and let that magic little maybe turn into something real.

You picture it - sitting together in the big chair at your brother’s place that Seungcheol usually claims, his arm casually around you as you view the familiar scene from a new vantage point. Getting through the workday by texting cute shit and little questions, sneaking to the bathroom to send flirty selfies after never-ending meetings. Sitting across from him at candlelit restaurant tables, dressed up but eager to go home and dress down again. You can picture all of it. Everything, right now, is possible.

You brace yourself, summon some courage, and slip your hand into his.

Somewhere between asleep and awake, your ex-fake-boyfriend curls his fingers back around yours.

He wakes up holding your hand and catapults from alarm to affection to alarm again. Luckily, while he’s mentally scrambling, you’re busy retracting your hand and holding his borrowed earbud out to him to take back.

He pops it back into the case and rubs at his eyes. “We down yet?”

You glance over your shoulder at the little window, as if you’re not totally certain if you’re on land or in the sky, and you need to check, which Seungcheol secretly thinks is adorable.

“Not quite,” you answer, looking back at him. “Getting there, though.”

Seungcheol stretches his legs under the seat ahead of him, then pushes himself to sit more upright, starting to get his bearings. You’re quiet next to him, fiddling with your phone on your lap though the screen is off.

“You good?” he asks, voice a bit clogged from sleep.

“Oh.” You stop fiddling, like you’re suddenly aware that he can see you. “Yeah. Just, y’know, tired. From the trip, and my family and everything…”

“Got it,” he says, and he does - he gets it. He’s been with you the last few days - did the same amount of travel, got the same amount of sleep, witnessed firsthand the way you make yourself smaller under the eyes of your family members (aside from Soonyoung, of course). And even though his duties are officially over, he can’t help but continue to feel what he had all weekend long: the desire to ease you through it, to make it a little better, to make sure you aren’t alone in the face of your ghosts.

When it’s your turn to rise and make your way to the aisle, he scoots out to let you go first, one hand hovering near your back but not touching as you shuffle up the narrow aisle towards the exit.

At baggage claim, as you both wait for the flashing red light to indicate that your bags are moving, he watches you sway a little on your feet. Biting back a tiny smile, he steps closer, reaching around your shoulders to nudge you closer, to encourage you to - literally - lean on him. You look up gratefully, and he gives you a small smile back.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, he thinks, as the red light begins to blink, slowly on and off. The belts begin to move. He wasn’t supposed to like you, wasn’t supposed to be wading through the viscous need to make things easier for you - to shift obstacles out of your way before you got to them, to help lift every heavy thing before you can feel their weight in your hands. It’s a feeling he’s only ever had for one person before, and it makes him feel shifty and sort of guilty that he’s feeling it for you, too.

Which is bullshit, because he’s single, and Jieun only cares about him when she feels like she’s missing out on something, and you don’t treat him like that - don’t insult him when you’re frustrated, don’t sulk until he caves and asks what’s wrong, don’t vanish for days and then demand his attention on a whim.

So, when your bags come, he reaches for yours, too. He wants to help you with the heavy lift - even when it’s physical.

He settles back into home when he gets there - throws in a load of his most-important clothes, takes a hot shower during which he allows himself zero thoughts - static only. He orders delivery for dinner because he’s sure as hell not cooking for himself tonight, but makes a grocery list on his phone for tomorrow. When his food comes, he settles on his couch, putting on a show he’s seen before just for the noise, and then he spends the next hour fighting the urge to text you.

Did you get home okay? How’s unpacking going? Are you back to work tomorrow? The questions flow through him, none more pressing than the last, but he turns them all away for now.

Instead he opens social media, looking over his last post - the beach at the resort, followed by a selfie. Of course Jieun had commented, but he’d left it unanswered. Frowning to himself, he looks through his camera roll. He chooses one of the ceremony spot that he’d taken before the room had gotten crowded, the focus being the hanging white flowers filling the room. He pairs it with a picture he took with you and Soonyoung and Chan, your faces all squished together, happy and flushed from drinking and dancing. Chan isn’t even looking at the camera, his mouth open in a laugh as he looks at something off-screen. Soonyoung’s eyes are closed but his smile is huge. Seungcheol himself is grinning, one arm over your shoulders as you press in close to squeeze into the shot. You’re looking at him, not the camera, your genuine smile showing your teeth - different from what he saw in all the posed photos the family had to take.

He posts without a caption, as he usually does, but tags the three of you. He wonders - hopes, maybe - that you’ll text him first when you see the picture, even if it’s just to make fun of your brother’s inability to keep his eyes open for a picture.

But it’s not your name on his screen when his phone buzzes fifteen minutes later, as he’s starting to eat his delivery. He presses his lips together; he should have known this was coming.

Ji 💖: back from your trip? it looked amazing

Seungcheol stares at the message for a long time, as if reading it over and over will reveal her intent, determine if this is just one of her little games. He considers sending back what do you want, Jieun? but it’s never worked out for him to jump directly to the offensive before, so he resists.

Instead, he finds himself on her social media page, drawn there as if by a trance. It’s not the first time he’s likened her effect on him to magic - and not the nice kind.

He scrolls down until he finds what he’s looking for - the last time she posted them together, the last time she posted him. People could say what they wanted about Jieun, and Seungcheol had plenty to say depending on the day, but he liked this about her: when they broke up, she kept his pictures up. He didn’t disappear from her story, her history, the way he’d seen other couples do.

He’d asked her about it, once, maybe a year ago. They’d been in his bed, limbs tangled, watching the moonlight slowly creep up Seungcheol’s wall, marking the time with their slow, sleepy breaths - neither of them able to sleep, too excited by and wrapped up in the high of getting back together again, of agreeing to work it out, of the optimism that maybe this time would be different.

“Ji?” he’d murmured, looking down at where her head rested on his bare chest.

“Mmm?” she’s asked, and he’d wondered if he’d woken her up.

“You never deleted my pictures,” he’d said, but it was a question and they both knew it.

She’s stirred, rolling so she could look at him better through the dark. “Mmm,” she’d said again, an agreeing noise. “Didn’t want to.”

He’d looked at her, heart full but scared, too. “Right,” he’d said quietly. “I guess my question is why not.”

She was quiet a long time, and her fingertips gliding back and forth across his upper arm as she thought were the only indications that she hadn’t gone back to sleep.

“I think I felt like you’d be back,” she’d said finally. “Deleting them would mean I thought it was really over. And I never did.”

He’d always loved that, though he’d never said as much to his friends. As much as he sometimes wished she would let him go, there’s part of him that loves that she always keeps space for him. As if them working it out, working for once, was just a matter of timing.

Looking at their last picture together, he considers the you of the situation. If he pursues something with you, there’s no guarantee - no promise that it will work, no insurance that it won’t fuck things up with his friend group, no magic mirror to show him a future where you stay together and it doesn’t fall apart or go up in flames. And without that promise, without that peek, the uncertainty seems insurmountable; he’s never done this successfully. It’s always ended in flames, for him - for him and Jieun.

If he opens this door with her - for the hundredth time - there’s no promise of a happy ending there, either. But at least he knows the steps, knows the routine, has some expectations in place. There’s no learning curve, no uncertainty. It’s just stepping back into a dance he can do in his sleep, as easy as what’s after like? choreo.

He’d told you what happened on the trip had to stay there, hadn’t he? If he stepped away from you now, wouldn’t that just be doing what he’d promised? It wouldn’t be letting you down that badly, would it?

But Jieun - if her showing up means she’s ready to try again - he does owe her more. He owes her to try, to fix what he’d broken a dozen times before, to do it right after all the times he’d done it wrong, to follow through on promises he’d meant when he said them.

He sits for a long time, weighing this in his mind. Then, finally, he makes his decision.

Seungcheol: yeah, got back today. it was great Seungcheol: hbu… u good?

When he sees the dots appear that indicate Jieun typing, he can’t help the helium lift on his heart, rising like an inflating hot air balloon into uncertain skies.

<- Prev || Next ->

hehehehehhe hellooooooooooooo don't kill meeee :) :) :)

thank you for reading!!!

[revelboo]

Blaster being reverse kidnapped is hilarious, are you planning on continuing it? 🫢

I am 😅 there’s just so many storylines that I tend to forget unless you guys remind me. I absolutely forgot about him

Shoot Me In The Smile Pt 3

Blaster x Reader

• You look like a completely different person, but studying you as you sing absently to yourself, little bits of you slide into place. Those tired, empty eyes. The way your smile is a bit crooked, one corner of your mouth quirking slightly. It’s you. And he’s apparently going home with you, panic stringing him tight. Maybe he can sneak away when you’re sleeping?

• Pulling into the driveway, you slide out and go around to get your stuff, tucking the boombox against a hip to fish your keys out and let yourself in. Dropping your bag in a kitchen chair, you hold up the boombox, tipping it slightly. And it’s cherry, shiny and brand new even though it has to be from the eighties. No one makes this stuff anymore and someone had taken meticulous care of it. So why chuck it in the woods?

• Primus, help him. Little fingers sliding over his tape compartment. Pushing the button to open the door and he’s so glad he left his cassettes behind for this. And you’re smiling delightedly as you mess with him, until it’s taking all of his willpower to be still. To not tremble at the feel of soft hands on him. “Can you play me a song?” You whisper and your voice strokes over him as you fiddle with a nob.

• It must have batteries, you weren’t sure. Static hisses out of the speakers before George Harrison’s Got My Mind Set On You spills out. Changing the station gets you Jefferson Airplane’s Somebody to Love. “Alright, then. I like classic rock.” Stretching lazily, you finger comb your hair before picking up the stereo and carrying him back to your bedroom. Talking to yourself, to the empty walls, probably isn’t healthy, but you can’t seem to stop. Lonely for someone who’s never coming home. Setting the boombox down as the singer seems to plead ‘Don’t you want somebody to love?’ You strip out of your clothes, nose wrinkling at the smell of cigarettes from the bar clinging to you. And you stretch lazily, heading into the bathroom to wash away the day.

• You’re naked. Right there in front of him and naked. All soft skin and sinful voice right there. All your secrets on display tempting him with the realization that he might be into humans. Into you anyway. And he can’t do a thing about it without blowing his cover. Hears the sound of running water and knows he needs to sneak out. But you’re singing to him and he’s turning the volume up for you so you can hear it better, so your voice lifts unconsciously in answer. And he’s so fragged.

Previous

[riverbends]

https://www.tumblr.com/andrewcodymybeloved/781526766708719616/fuckin-wrong-baz-i-will-have-his-babies

omg ok hear me out…

Imagine overhearing this convo or having pope sadly tell you about it. Imagine having to try to cheer him up and convince him that you would have his children.

Like I would let my man breed me on the spot… but that’s just me

YES. it terrifies him to think that baz might be right—that andrew cody can only harm, never nurture.

he probably wouldn’t tell you about it though. too scared you might agree with baz. you’d have to be eavesdropping nearby and you’d bring it up later in your own home, maybe sitting down somewhere. i reckon the couch, late at night. he’s got some NatGeo documentary on and you watch quietly with him. you’ve got your feet in his lap, your ankles locked under his hands.

maybe you ask him if you can have his baby. you say it like you’re trying to borrow his shirt.

(nsfw-ish stuff below the cut)

he just turns his head and looks at you with that signature frown of his. the question makes his throat go dry so when he says “what?”, you can barely hear him.

“baby or no baby?”

still staring at you, mouth a little parted. he’s utterly perplexed while you wait for him to answer.

“i don’t understand,” he whispers. then blinks. you shrug and lightly nudge a foot into his thigh before his hands tighten over your ankles. he wants to know what the fuck you’re talking about.

“i want a baby,” you say, so simply. “whenever it suits you, of course.”

you watch him breathe. the light from the tv licks at his face. he lets eyes his fall to your childless stomach, and then to the floor. and then his attention is back on the documentary without a word. but you smile to yourself because you know his brain is probably trying to compute the possibility now and he has to figure out if you knew what baz said to him earlier. and how. and why on earth you would want such a thing from himself of all people.

when you’re in bed, he still doesn’t address it. he just summarises something he’s supposed to do with the boys tomorrow. asks you what time you’re finishing work so he can pick you up after collecting lena from school.

in the dark, he rests on his back while you nestle into his side. his heartbeat thumps steadily under your open palm.

“what did you mean?” he murmurs into your hair and you lift your head.

“jesus, you know what i meant,” you laugh.

when he doesn’t say anything, you’re getting up and straddling him. he lets you, of course. he always will. you just have to adjust your clothes before you can take him to the hilt. pleasure swallows him as you ride your way up. his hands are iron on your thighs.

you lean down, rolling your pelvis against his while he’s still inside, and you just tell him to keep going until it takes. he nods like he’s obeying an order. and then he’s got you on your back. he’s going for a home run. he does exactly as he was told and keeps going until he knows it takes.

…….guys you have to put me down like an animal or i fear i will never stop WTF

[rans-prettydoll]

YOU KNOW WHAT I HAVE SEEN ALL THESE FRAT PARTIES FICS AND TBH CAN YOU WRITE ONE FOR CHOSO OR WAKASA?? like they meet at a party with reader and etc etc. dont have to do both if you dont want to of course!

OF COURSE. SEE IDK WHY I DIDN’T THINK OF THIS BEFORE BUT TYSM. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT. I chose Choso btw . ♡ I might make this into a series also, it depends though..🤭

NOT READ OVER SO MIGHT BE TYPING MISTAKES .

Choso was at yet another frat party, not that he minded because he never spoke much anyway. He sat in his black tank and gray sweats that hugged his athletic figure so well that all the girls there were practically drooling over him. He would get surrounded by these girls while on the couch, they were all giggly and rubbing up on his built arms talking about how cute he was with his two ponytails. He would smile and nod but he didn’t of course like any of these girls. No one caught his eye until he saw you. You were there with a group of your friends, who you happened to be dancing with, but you ended up getting a bit tired. You walked over and grabbed yourself a drink before you made your way over to the couch and plopped down right beside Choso. You laughed and watched as your girlfriends danced along with some of the other frat boys. You finally looked over at Choso and you instantly gushed. His cute ponytails and gosh just his whole vibe had you in love. “Awwww I’ve heard all the girls talking about you. You are cute!! I didn’t believe them at first!!” You would say as you smiled and giggled at him. Did you think that he was gonna be like all the other frat boys? I mean like yeah he was popular with the girls but not because he was all loud and obnoxious like the other guys! He was calm, respectful, and strong which he had shown off in one of the lifting contests that had happened at one of the previous parties for free extra drinks but that was beside the point. He didn’t want you to think he was like the others, he was different but yet still a frat boy. That’s when he realized he was getting lost in thought and that he had been staring at you. He shook his head and sighed as he saw you staring at him back with an eyebrow cocked but a silly smile on your face. “You like what you see? I'm just playing with you, cutie!!” You said as you laughed and slapped his bicep playfully. You only did that so you would have an excuse to touch him, I mean like who wouldn’t wanna touch him? But back to Choso, No he did like what he saw, a lot actually but then he realized he hadn’t said anything that whole time. He opened his mouth and let out a chuckle to match energy “I didn’t know I was that popular. You said you heard about me? Hope it wasn’t anything bad.” He said in a smooth calm tone as he looked at you in the eyes. He couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes would drift down to look at his shredded body. You were definitely looking, shit almost drooling!! While in your state of distraction, you accidentally ended up slipping your drink into his lap. You gasped and I quickly grabbed some napkins that had been thrown out on the table to clean up spilled drinks and stuff. “Oh, I’m so sorry!!” You said as you patted his crotch area, trying to clean up the spilled drink. Choso hissed and he simply grabbed your hand to pull it off his lap while he shook his head, “no no no..it’s fine. I’ll just go clean myself up.” he would say before standing up, walking off to his bedroom.

After Choso went up to his room, he would be changing when he heard the click of his door opening. He turned around to look and see you standing there. Jaw practically dropped as you shamelessly stared at him in his boxers, you couldn’t help yourself from making a cheeky comment. “Shit..didn’t know you were big down there too.” Maybe it was the liquor you had been sipping on all night or something but shit you were bold. Choso cocked a brow and sighed before putting on a new pair of pants. Now that you were standing in front of him, he could get a good view of your outfit. You were wearing a skimpy black dress that barely covered your ass and your cleavage, with some black heels. Shit, you were so hot. He knew he couldn’t let any of the other frat boys get to you, knowing damn well that they were or probably already had tried talking to you. But if that was the case..you must’ve turned down their advances right? I mean like you were standing in his bedroom, commenting on his dick size with no shame whatsoever on your pretty face. He didn’t know how the rest of the party was gonna go but all he knew was that he was gonna spend it with you. By the end of the night, he made sure to get your number, walking you to your car as you got in all giggly. Your girlfriends who were in the car with you, all smirking and laughing as you hugged choso goodbye. Telling him about how you will be calling him soon. He would be waiting for it.

[talenlee]

M.O.S.H.A

In your world, how can magic go wrong?

Magic is really powerful. Worlds with magic tend to treat it as fundamental to how the world works, it tends to lead to big societal change, and it’s generally, something you put in a story because you give a crap about it. Unless you’re me. But the point of magic system is that they impose themselves on the world, and they change the world. Anything in the world, as you may notice, impacts the world and has by necessity, ways to fail.

Like, bricks are pretty well known and there are still ways that we have rules for handling them in the case of causing dangerous problems. What kinds of things in your universe keep magic from going wrong? And if they’re not there, can magic go wrong?

Noob Trap

In The Belgariad, middling fantasy author and serial child abuser David Eddings describes the idea of the Will and the Word, where a sorcerer can do anything, by shaping their ‘will’ (which is a wonderfully abstracted thing, impossible to meaningfully describe) and uttering a word to give that intention shape. A sorcerer can do anything they imagine in the dreadful world of The Belgariad but there’s one thing they can’t ever truly do: They can’t unmake anything. If they tell anything to un-be, the universe snaps back and they stop existing themselves.

Now, the idea of making something disappear versus turning something into air, that’s a distinction without much difference. The sorcerer who learns that trick suddenly learns that hey, they don’t have to worry about this one potential backfire, because it’s meaningless.

Basically, your magic system might only ever mess up in a way that kills new practitioners who don’t know what they’re doing, concentrating magical power in a larger body of the older folks who got lucky enough to have a mentor or not kill themselves trying anything weird.

Education is the Regulations

Many magic systems that rely on representing colleges or universities (like my own, in Cobrin’Seil) treat the process of learning magic as not being so much as about getting the first spell to work but to make sure the second or third spell don’t blow your hand off. In the context of magic of this type there’s a reference to the idea that there are predictable behaviours, and, as a system that people interact with through thought and intonation and maybe some speckles of fluid or dust, there’s a meaningful problem with attenuation. Basically, if your input is infinitely malleable, your output can be incredibly flexible and if some of your outputs can be, say, explosions then you’re going to be much more interested in making sure those inputs are within reasonable safety means.

This is similar to the ‘noob trap’ situation, but instead of ‘if you learn this one thing you can do dangerous stuff all you want,’ but instead ‘every successful stage of safety you learn opens up near forms of potentially dangerous stuff you can do.’ I particularly like this model (but I would, wouldn’t I), because of how it shows the value of education and infrastructural practice.

Which again: I would, wouldn’t I.

Privileged Administration

You could have magic’s backfires and misapplications being handled by a central authority. Throw magic around in a city and the authorities come along and beat the snot out of you. Of course, if you’re talking about having magic, you can probably use that to harm conventional authorities. In order to properly escalate and respond to magic, then, you need a magical enforcement methods.

This is what Baldur’s Gate 2 calls the ‘Cowled Wizards’ model and it works great if you want a large institutional powerbase your characters can struggle with and which will inevitably be corrupted and exploited by bad actors, as if all power systems of this like have some degree of inevitable corruptibility as they cede sense in the name of maintaining and prolonging their own power like the Catholic Church. Wait we got a bit Brothers Karamazov there. Point is, that this is just cops, but magic, and that works great for all the things you need cops to do, including killing people without any kind of cultural moral reprimand.

Magic Is Inherent and Too Specific

Sometimes a magic system is kept from failures by being isolated to individuals, expressed by the inherent talent for magic that is unlocked often by some kind of traumatising experience, and then after that point, people explore that power. This is a system that expresses magic as a sort of single, specific power tha an individual has and which they have to learn about on their own, or maybe through the benefit of learning a system of magic that other people have in common.

I don’t like this kind of system, because I don’t like when magic is a special gift bequeathed on a minority through accidents of birth. That tends to get you towards the eugenics of the X-Men (but y’know, the X-Men are at least in a universe with eugenics as an established idea where there are people who make meaningful arguments against such things). Inherent, inborn magic and special abilities can work great for controlling the way it changes the world, but it comes along with two questions:

What the fuck is happening

Why haven’t people dedicated their effort to explaining this most important thing in the world?

You see this kind of magic system a lot in some really hack stuff. The only example I can bring to mind that’s worth mentioning here is Twilight but know I also was thinking of some other stuff you might think about but I try not to mention on this blog. But let’s pretend I know enough about Brandon Sanderson to say, yeah, that happens in his work, sure.

Conclusion

One of my favourite things about magic systems is the ways they betray authors not thinking about them out of the immediate experience of the protagonists. I know this is a funny thing because I think I did it in one of my stories and I think in hindsight while I thought about the magic in that world quite a bit, I didn’t do a very good job or present something that was that interesting once you got past the idea that ‘crabs had magic, and humans didn’t.’

But if you’re talking about fantasy cities where people can buy magical scrolls or wands, if you’re talking about a place with magical colleges and magical songs, then you’re going to want to think about them a step further: what’s to stop massive damage to the world and the people using it?

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[ivyoaknut]

I've finally made a meet the artist guys. Guys. Computer? Can you hear me Computer?

Hihihi Tumblr!! I'm Ivy!! :3c I go by they/he and I'm nonbinary! (I'm still trying to figure out what works for me TwT) I have a pronouns.page if anyones interested!

I am also a minor! I don't mind interacting with adults but please keep it in mind! Everything on my blog is sfw! :D

This is my main & art blog! I try to post art here when I can though I am very slow :'] My reblog blog is @theotherivyoaknut! >:D

More info under the cut:

I am very VERY open to making new mutuals or friends! I really wanna interact with more people but I worry too much about coming off as too strong ;-; Feel free to tag me in things even if we aren't moots, trust me it will make me so happy and I will love you forever<3 Any interactions will make me giggle & kick my feet with joys. My DMs are always open if you want to talk!

This blog is a safe space for everyone!! (LGBTQ+, Systems, Furries, Therians, Otherkins, Objectums, etc.) You're all supported here!

Okay not EVERYONE I still have a DNI ;-; Pretty much the basic (No Racists, Sexists, Homophobes, Transphobes, Xenophobes, Proshippers, etc.) Basically, just be a decent person and respect others TwT

More about me!! (Idk how much I should put):

I am a professional overthinker and I can get stuck on the simplest things, my mind is an enigma

I am very socially inept and have trouble fully opening up to people, but I'm getting a bit better!! To those who I have opened up to, just know that you guys mean everything to me<3

I have a bit of gamedev experience! I've been learning things in Godot recently and I might try to participate in a game jam sometime soon! I still have a bit to learn though :3c

I'm in quite the bit of fandoms! I've listed the BIG ones in my meet the artist (Slay the Princess is my current hyperfixation it's so good guys go play it please guys go go!!) but some others that aren't up there include Rain World, Steven Universe, Celeste, Dweller's Empty Path, ENA, Madoka Magica, Mob Psycho, My Little Pony, Webfishing, and The Owl House!

I have an artfight.net, I participate every year and I'll try to revenge everyone who attacks me! I may not get to everyone though TwT

I post all of my OC stuff on Toyhou.se but it's still pretty messy over there I need to fix up my page still, I have a bunch of ocs that I haven't put up there just yet :]

My discord is ivy.oaknut just in case you don't wanna communicate through Tumblr!

Idk what else to say so uhh here take some snake pics

[qwanderer]

closet argument from The Case of the Very Long Stairway as a gift for @shaylogic for the dgd anniversary exchange!

I wrote a little dialog-only ficlet to go with it, which you can read under the cut!

"Fuck, I can't get this door open. Charles. Do you wanna, you know, do the ghost thing and then let me out?"

"Right. Bad news."

"Oh my God, we're stuck? Is that what you're telling me? Are we stuck in this stupid little closet in the Cat King's tacky little boudoir?"

"Might be."

"Ugh, I can't believe you got us both stuck in here."

"Oi, you weren't much help, Crystal!"

"Well you said you had a plan and then didn't tell me about it! How was I supposed to know how to help you make it work?"

"I didn't know we could get trapped like this!"

"How are we even trapped? I mean I get it, I'm a regular person, I can't walk through walls, but you're a ghost. …It's not iron, is it?"

"Nah, it doesn't burn, it's just… I can't seem to do the whole ghost thing right now."

"What does that even mean? You are a ghost."

"I guess ghosts are solid here?"

"Yeah, real helpful arcane knowledge."

"Dunno what to tell you, it's the best I've got!"

"God, is arguing in closets gonna be, like, a whole thing with us?"

"I hope not."

"How long do you think it's gonna be?"

"If it's longer than a couple of hours, Edwin will find us."

"I dunno, he seemed pretty far down the research hole when we left. Not sure he even knows we're gone."

"I'm pretty sure Edwin will find us. Eventually."

"Right. So, tell me about this plan you had."

"It's stupid."

"I think we can all agree on that at this point."

"I wanna make, like, a present for Edwin, and I want it to be a surprise, so I can't ask him for help making it, can I?"

"Okay, but why the Cat King? And why the catnip? And why am I here?"

"Well, if I go off somewhere with you, Edwin's not gonna think it's weird, will he?"

"Which is great, by the way, if we're relying on him to rescue us and meanwhile he doesn't wanna interrupt our date."

"Yeah, yeah, I didn't think it through. Thought the Cat King was a friendly now, or at least close enough. And he got annoyed at us in the first place 'cause Edwin was mean to his cats, so I thought, well, I'll do something nice for 'em instead, won't I?"

"I mean, they did seem to be enjoying it, I'll give you that."

"I hoped it would maybe distract his cats a little, stop 'em from listening in, but I had no idea it would distract him!"

"Yeah, he is fully baked right now."

"Definitely not the plan."

"Where did you even get potted catnip?"

"Grew it."

"You grew that?"

"Yeah, we have kind of a little garden up on the roof of the Agency. Herbs for spells and stuff. Some things we use enough that it's easier to grow our own than trade for it."

"That's really cool, actually."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I always kill plants. Anyone who can keep them alive is pretty impressive to me."

"So, uh…"

"What. What is that look."

"Have you ever played seven minutes in heaven?"

"Yeah, a few times."

"Oh, is it a favorite pastime?"

"I wouldn't say that. I regret most of what I've done while playing that game."

"Tell me."

"You didn't bring it up because you wanted to hear about shitty things that happened to me before."

"Maybe not, but if you wanna talk about it…"

"All you really need to know is despite everything that kinda sucks about tonight, I'm enjoying it a lot more than any of those nights."

"Yeah?"

"And despite everything you did to help get us into this mess, I still like you a hell of a lot better than anyone I shared a closet with back then."

"That so?"

"Sweetie. Stop fishing for compliments and kiss me."

[msfandomsblog]

Alastor x FEM!Doe RulerGoddess/reader

This is from a request, my first request! right here. I hope my stuff lives up to your expectations!

also I know Alastors last name ain't altruist but I didn't know what else to use.

warnings/ a/n; cursing, use of y/n,

Dividers by: @sister-lucifer! she makes amazing stuff and @sweetmelodygraphics they're amazing as well!!

Becoming a goddess was an amazing accomplishment. You were more powerful then all angels in heaven,

But

You were bored.

There was nothing to do!!! Your sister was down in hell, your father was helping her, he avoided talking to you when you left hell to become a goddess, and your mother was gone. (as far as you knew)

You and your dad (luci) had an argument because he thought you were leaving your family like your good for nothing mother. You were planning on working in hell instead of heaven but when your dad yelled at you to be traitor you decided it would be better to just leave.

You hadn't had any news of what your sister was doing until after the last extermination. You hated that damn thing. Those angels all high and mighty. Adam got on your damn nerves, Sera hid things from you (like she could). You and Emily tried to talk to God about the extermination, but he was constantly 'unavailable'.

When you got a message from Charlie you immediately jumped twelve feet in the air as your wings held you there as you read. She had made a hotel! To redeem Sinners!! Oh your sister, she had a bigger heart then all the world combined.

She wanted your help?

Why hadn't she asked sooner!? of cor-

Ah...... dad was there too.

Well, if there was anytime to leave this hell of a heaven... it was now.

Dad would just have to deal with it.

You stood outside the doors of the newly rebuilt hotel taking a huge breath. Your halo had faded when you entered hell, you folded your wings

You knocked.

The door opened and a small one eyed moth demon stood before her.

The demons eyes got wide.

"Hello! I'm-" you started to say, but the demon was now bowing at your feet.

"Lady y/n!!! What an honor to meet you!!" The girl stated

You were shocked. Not by the fact she was bowing. This happened to you often but usually only angels bowed to you like thi-.

The realization hit you like a truck. This young moth demon was.....

"Rise my fallen sister, no fallen angel need bow to me." You smiled as you grabbed her hand having her stand on her feet.

She gained her composer as you walked in placing a hand on her shoulder.

"What is your name my sister?" "Vaggie, my name is Vaggie, goddess."

You smiled, "May my heavenly father soon see his angels mistake for letting you fall."

Vaggie nodded and called out "Babe!! we have an important visitor!!"

You looked around as you saw your sister.

You barely got a hi in before she tackled you with a hug.

"Y/N/N!!!!! I CANT BELIEVE YOU"RE HERE!!!!" Charlie shouted in your ear.

"Hi char char." you said hugging your sister back.

"Whats goin' on?!" a tall spider demon yelled out.

Soon more then a few demons entered the front desk area of the hotel.

But you only noticed one.

A tall red deer-like demon with a wide smile plastered on his face.

You knew him, at least you knew his mom.

(flash back)

"Miss Altruist! Miss Altruist! I found your son he's-" But it was to late the angels had erased her memory. she didn't know anything about her son or her quest with you to find him.

She'd been the nicest angel you'd met since you became a goddess. And for her kindness you promised to find her dear son.

You sat watching her son on the hell floor. Maybe if she met him, told him everything.

No.

He might be in hell, but his mother was his last source of goodness in his heart.

She wasn't about to doom the demon further.

He was.....

Handsome.

Everything Miss Altruist said and more.

what

No, no no no. you had worked too hard to fall for a demon.

Even him.

(Al pov kinda)

He was frozen.

Time had stopped.

All he could see was her.

Her gold glow, her pure white wings.

Wait

What in the unholy hell?

No. No no no no no, he couldn't be.

No. Stop.

His chest felt hot and he was suddenly self conscious about how he looked.

Normally he felt always above others, but when he looked at you,

he felt like the dirt at your feet.

He wanted to speak but nothing came out.

It was ridiculous, Him, The Radio Demon.

Acting like a prepubescent teenager, having feelings, over You!

You.......shit

Damn his tail. He could feel it betraying his outer shell.

Luckily everyone was to focused on what happened next to pay him or his tail any attention.

(yes all of alastors feelings happened within 10 seconds)

You smiled at the tall demon when something else caught your eye.

Dad

"Whats going on char-" Lucifer started to say but cut himself off as he looked up at you.

"Hi dad" you said giving him a hopeful smile.

"Y/n?" He said as if he didn't believe it.

"The one and only." Your smile turned awkward, you thought he might yell at you, scream even. But no...

He ran up to you hugging you so tightly you couldn't breathe.

"Y/n!! My first born! My eldest!" He had tears streaming down his face

You froze then hugged his smaller figure back. "I missed you too dad. How are you?" You added pulling away.

"How am I? How are you?! Look at you! All heavenly and god-like!" His smiled could've split his face in two, and his eyes shed more tears as he saw the woman you'd grown up to be.

You chuckled, moving your hand to wipe his tears.

You looked back at where the red demon had been standing but found that he was now standing next to your sister, which was considerably closer to you.

"Hello, you must be Alastor." You smiled curtly trying to not let the slight butterflies in your stomach fly away.

"uh, Yes, Alastor The radio demon!" He put out a hand, completely forgetting his normal routine.

You shook his hand, but as you let go, suddenly missing the touch.

"Yeah, yeah, Mister Radio, Blah blah blah." Your father said pulling you slightly away from him.

"Dad be nice, Good to meet you Mr Altruist." You chirped happily as Charlie and the other residents pulled you away to show you the rest of the hotel.

His heart felt too full for his chest as he watched you being dragged away.

wait... Altruist? How did she know his name?

And better yet, Why did he like it so much?

Ok kinda weird ending and sorry it took me so long to post this because I kept thinking it was bad so I never did but I really liked this so it's getting posted!

@altaira-ibnlaahad ty for request!

[dannydoesthisthing27]

Angel headcanons and how I think they acted/felt in (almost?) Every audio

Angel that never felt like they did enough growing up even though they did so much more than any child/teenager should be expected to

Angel that was working 2 jobs and had a younger sibling at home they needed to take care of (their parents were around but were unreliable and had reactive personalities)

Angel that hit their growth spurt in early high school, resulting in them being taller than most of their peers

Angel who wanted to pursue an art degree but was told it would never lead them anywhere, so they studied medicine when they went to college

Angel who spent most of their life walking on eggshells when it came to anything serious (especially friendships and relationships. They're bold on the outside but keep their real feelings locked down)

Angel that tried to make themselves seem smaller for a long time because they didn't want to intimidate their friends

Angels who's first serious relationship was with Micheal. He wasn't bad to them persay, but he didn't set a great baseline for their standards

Angel who was so sad they had to leave their cat behind, but they knew at the time it was the best decision because they wouldn't be able to care for her

Angel who moved into a 2 bedroom flat and experienced real independence for the first time

Angel who noticed a guy at the grocery store staring at them and couldn't help being a little intimidated, even if he was only an inch or two taller than them....and was covered in muscle...and a tight shi- groceries they're getting groceries

Angel that went to a local park to see the stray dogs and cats that hand around and give them some food. Just to notice someone who looked eerily similar to thar guy from the store, but surely it was just coincidence or they live in the same area...right?

Angel who saw a new sandwich place opened near them recently and decided to try it out

Angel barely getting to choose their table when there's a body in front of them and intense eyes staring them down, it's that man from the grocery store? Questioning why they're stalking him...

Angel that couldn't help snickering at the thought of actually stalking someone and proposing that maybe he was the one stalking them and then inviting him to sit so they could actually talk

Angel that was playing up being sour about losing smash when David said he actually saw a future with them, and all of a sudden, it wasn't just them hoping anymore

Angel who wasn't phased by the fact that magic was real because they'd always believed in some kind of magic even loosely. They believed there was more than what they were seeing when they went to the far side of town (wards)

Angel who wanted to see David's wolf not because they felt like they needed the proof, but because they wanted to give him a way of sharing every part of himself, in the same way they were starting to

Angel that was nervous to ask so close to an anniversary, but did it anyways because they thought it might be a good way to put some emphasis on it

Angel that actually got a little scared when they first saw Davey shift because it almost looked like it should be painful. Their hands shaking when they first reached out to pet him, pausing just before so that he could have space to pull away if he really wanted to

Angel that jumped out of their skin when he shook his head to stop them scratching because they weren't expecting it

Angel who's heart dropped when he accused them of cheating because they never wanted him to think of them like that (their father cheated on their mother once and they swore they would never be like him)

Angel that was more open with everything, even the big stuff, after that moment

Angel who was scared to sleep the first few weeks in their new house, especially when a violent storm woke them up from an already uneasy rest. Them waking up Davey only to immediately regret it because they're a grown adult that should be able to handle it themselves, but then his arms are around them and his legs are over theirs

Angel feeling their heart shatter when their first solstice living together happened and David broke down. Angel that had never seen that side of him and them scared to think that they were the only thing he had to lean on

Angel that held their breath when Davey said his father would've liked them because they couldn't cry yet, not while he was still awake

Angel who knew how to cook, but it'd been so long since they had opportunity to that they wanted to relearn cooking with Davey

Angel that answered the call from Ash because they wanted to say hi, only to be caught off guard by his concern for his friend. Reassuring Asher that he didn't mess up and that Davey really appreciated the jacket

Angel who was thrilled when they finally got Davey to sit down and play minecraft because it was another way to connect with him through something they liked (as opposed to connecting through cooking which was something David liked)

Angel finding out that they like doing yard work with Davey because it gives them both an opportunity to slow down. Angel who bought themselves and Davey matching work gloves and grinning when he smiled at them after they gave the gloves to him

Angel that was having a shitty week at work and wanted to come home one night and just go to bed when Davey pulled them in and asked if they wanted to go swimming with him. Angel who was thinking about a dozen different things at once, never staying on one thought long enough to find a solution. Just letting themselves loop in the thoughts till he pulled them back down into his arms, floating in their pool, joking about the lights he'd picked for the patio

Angel who had to work late almost every night for a week, even the night of the first day Davey had off in weeks. Them frustrated and exaughsted not sure if they wanted to scream, cry, bury their face in his chest(tits) or lap, a mix of all three, or just pass out

Angel letting themselves collapse into his arms and decompress while he plays Destiny 2 and rambles

Angel figuring out that they can actually get him to ramble, despite him saying "I don't ramble. I'm just explaining the game '...' No that is not the same thing you snot, now shut up and lay your head down. Let me hold you"

Angel that was actually excited to go camping for once, surprise themselves because they usually hate stuff like camping. Them listening quietly to Davey recount stories of himself and his dad. Their chest filling with tingling warmth when he asks them to scratch the lottery ticket with him, recognizing that it was something far more special than just a scratcher

Angel waking up a few hours earlier than they usually do so they can call Asher and Milo to make a plan that will force their mate to relax. Them smirking like the cat that caught the cannery when he listens to the voice-mail, only faltering a little bit when they take a second to confirm he's not upset

Angel that took the time to make pancakes (raspberry and chocolate chip his favorite), eggs, bacon, and fresh orange juice, because he deserves to get taken care of too. They secretly love the moments that they get to be the one in control or the one that's providing care

Angel who had one of the worst days of their professional life and coming home only staying in the living area of the house long enough to take off their shoes. They couldn't track mud in David hates mud. They just need to get to the bedroom. They need to calm down. They need to shower. They need to get their smile back on their face, David needs them to be strong. They need to be strong for him

Angel who felt so ashamed of the fact that they were struggling with something like work after everything that he went through. Him telling them that life doesn't stop just because he's struggling and that they're still allowed to come to him when they have a bad day. "You're my mate Angel, you don't need to be anything more than that. Being with me is all I will ever ask of you. I'm never going to ask you to be more than you're ready to be. That wouldn't be fair, and you deserve to feel seen too"

Angel that wasn't expecting Davey to ask them to come meet Gregory Keaton. Angel realizing in that meeting just how much David actually matters in the empowered society, even though it was just a conversation between two alphas. Angel noticing how much Greg respects their mate, and feeling even more proud that they're the one he trusts with everything because of it

Angel who doesn't go to bed without Davey, even if he tells them he'll be late

Angel taking his hoodie from the clothes hamper, since it was just resting on top, and going out to the couch to watch Star Trek till he was back in their arms. Them waking up just enough to notice he was back, but still asleep enough that he needed to rouse them

Angel who hates getting sick because not being able to do the things that are their responsibility makes them incredibly anxious, which is what leads them to still do the dishes when they're sick

Angel letting Davey convince them back to bed without much protest because they really were exaughsted. Crass jokes still falling from their lips as they watched him get changed, a little surprised that he wants to cuddle them when they're sick, when he's so adamantly against cuddles when he's the sick one

Angel that was excited about the smash tournament because it was the first time they'd been able to be around the other mates and shifters since getting engaged (Sweetheart and Sam hype them, baaabe, and their rings up big time)

Angel who loves watching Davey workout for a multitude of reasons, the main one being that they adore how much he loves when they watch him. The other reason is that it actually motivates them to want to workout as well...sometimes...when they're at home...and it's not the crack of dawn...

Angel that never watches scary movies asking Davey if there's any he likes that he thinks would be fun for them to watch. Only to immediately regret this when an hour in he starts messing with them (they're not the only menace in the relationship and get mock offended when David tries to deny that he is, in fact, a menace)

(Audio headcanons/actions angel takes are done now. Below here is just misc headcanons)

Angels lockscreen is a .05 picture of David in his wolf form

Angel hates tight clothes (on the upper half more so they'll suffer through tight pants to make their ass look good)

Angel keeps tampons, pads, pain medication, bandaids, and various other hygene/medical supplies in their bag/car/house as a precaution for anyone that needs it (Davey already had a menstruation crustation(crab shaped basket) in his guest bathroom for the pack members who get periods) so they just added to it

Angel has .05 pictures of all the shifters, but their favorites are the ones of Darlin because they're impossible to make sit still when shifted (unless Sam is present) so all the pictures are blurry or look like Angel was jumping out of the way

Angel and Milo go to lunch together sometimes

Angel bites and pokes David for absolutely no reason they just get affectionately aggressive towards him (he does it to them too)

Angel likes when Davey lays on top of them because they can feel his heartbeat against them, and it let's them know he's there and they're both ok

(I chose not to talk about the inversion or proposal/marriage audios because those are topics that I don't have a good way of explaining how Angel felt during them. There's just a lot more going on than just them and David or them and the other pack members, and I don't think I could properly single their emotions out)

[thewardenisonthecase]

Companion!Anneliese romance path, part 1

so, last night I did a 'anneliese as a companion' thing and it gave me worms so I wrote this. I'm not done yet, but I have others stuff to do, so I'm splitting this in parts.

 few things first 

since she’s here as a companion, she’s not a warden, she just miraculously escaped howe

also, human noble origin does not exist and instead a human warrior/rogue is the human commoner origin 

more details can be found in this post which i will be cross referencing 

anyways, with that said this is about the early stages, so like, building approval and all, and establishing the relationship.

(divider by @/flowersforthemachine)

Early Stages 

Once the Warden has recruited Anneliese, they’ll be able to speak to her in camp and ask a few things, like why is she being hunted and what has happened to her family. Because this is very early on, Anneliese is not ready to divulge everything, so she only says that Arl Howe has betrayed her family, and as far as he knows, only she remains. 

The Warden, regardless of background, can ask details on who this Arl Howe is, though the human commoner dialogue might say they have heard of him. She gives the Warden the history she knows: Howe’s father sided with Orlais but he joined the rebellion, she talks about how he, her father and that Bryland guy were friends, and when she mentions her father, she gets a little choked up and the Warden can be comforting or not. If the Warden is nice here, they’ll get a nice boost of approval. She’ll end the conversation not too long after, saying she needs some space. 

Next convo, you can ask Anneliese more about her family, though she will be slightly hesitant at first, saying she’s still in pain over the whole ordeal. Once again, if the warden offers some comfort and is kind, she’ll eventually be open to it. 

Here, you’ll get a few options. You can ask about the Couslands in general, you can ask about Highever, you can ask about her parents. Everything she’ll answer normally, but with her parents, she is very brief about it. She says she loved them and that’s about it. At the end of this convo, she will briefly mention having hope for something, but she doesn't end the thought. 

Once you’ve got enough approval, either by being nice to her or by bribing her with gifts, you can start flirting with her. Now, Anneliese can be romanced by both male and female wardens, however, she will react slightly differently. With male wardens, she’ll be initially more guarded about their flirting, while she’s more relaxed with a female warden at first. 

(by the way, I’m not going to write like a thousand different branching paths, so i’ll just go with the one that would work best ok)

Male Warden: Has anyone told you how pretty you are?

Anneliese: (crosses her arms, brow raised) Many men before you have. Are you trying to gain something with this flattery? 

Male Warden: No. I just think you’re a very beautiful woman. 

Anneliese: Do you…truly believe that?

Male Warden: I do.

Anneliese: Well…thank you. You’re not too bad looking yourself. 

Conversation ends. 

Female Warden: Has anyone told you how pretty you are? 

Anneliese: You flatter me, but thank you. 

Female Warden: It’s not flattery. 

Anneliese: Truly? Do you…mean it then? 

Female Warden: Yes. I think you’re a beautiful woman. 

Anneliese: I…well. I appreciate it. You’re not too bad looking yourself. 

Conversation ends. 

Now, the next time you speak to Anneliese, she’ll question the Warden on their previous relationship experience. You can tell her you’ve been in a few before but nothing serious, you can tell her you have 0 experience, or you can tell her something related to the Warden’s origin. In any case, the Warden will also be able to ask her if she has ever been with anyone before. Here is where Anneliese discloses that she has had brief relationships before, though nothing serious and that they were all with women. She will ask the warden if they have any issue with that. If the Warden replies that they DO have a problem with her being bi, they’ll lose approval and they’ll be locked out of the romance. If, however, the Warden says they have no issue, then the romance can continue. Also, the Warden can question why she’s only ever been with women before and she says she’ll explain it at another time. 

Eventually, you’ll be able to question why she’s only ever been with women and this time she’ll give an answer. She explains that, due to being the daughter of a teynr, there are certain expectations for her when it comes to relationships. She says that the young noblemen were never true in their words - they didn’t seek an equal partner, they just wanted to gain status through marriage, and so, she was always too distrustful of them (for a male warden, here she’ll even apologize for being so guarded when they flirted with her), and besides, they were always somewhat scared of her. 

Warden: Why would they be scared of you?

Anneliese: Scared might be the wrong word, but I think they were…intimidated by my size and my attitude. Mother said I would never find a husband if I kept beating them in combat. 

Anneliese: But the ladies at court…they never shied away from me. I felt seen as a person, not just as the Teynr’s daughter, with them. Of course, the men would go mad when they gave me their favours before a tourney, but truth be told, my relationships were nothing more than dalliances. A bit of fun, before returning to my duties. 

Anneliese: Warden…do you think that perhaps we might be…something? 

Warden: What do you mean?

Anneliese: I just…I have been thinking about you and I. Together. As something more than friends. Is there any chance you might think the same?

Warden: Is that your way of saying you like me?

Anneliese: Perhaps. But you haven’t answered my question. 

Warden: I think I do. 

Anneliese: (Smiles) Good. 

Conversation ends. 

The next convo with Anneliese is the one where the relationship gets established so its an important one. She gives the Warden a token of her affection, which is a handkerchief. The conversation goes more or less like this:

Anneliese: It’s one of the last things I have from my home. I wanted you to have it.

Warden: This seems too important for you to just give it to me. 

Anneliese: I know. But I know it’ll be safe with you.

Warden: Is there any reason for this?

Anneliese: I just thought…well. We don’t know where this journey will take us. You have your duties as I have mine too. Perhaps we won’t see each other again, but I wanted you to have something to remember me by. I don’t know. Maybe this was stupid, I’m sorry. 

Warden: No, its not stupid. I love it. Thank you. 

Anneliese: Truly? Then….may I give you something else? 

Warden: What would that be? 

Anneliese: A kiss. 

Warden: Of course. 

(First Kiss cutscene happens)

This is the moment where the relationship is established. From here, you’ll get the kissing dialogue options in camp and out of camp and Wynne will have her “love and duty” moment. 

Because this is getting quite long and I have other shit to do, I’ll stop here for now and then come back later. 

[i-like-forcefem]

so i know this guy and he's very cute,, and i kinda wanna forcefem him, but don't know where to start 🥺🥺

/hj

Awwww that’s wonderful!!!

Well one of my favourite techniques is by allowing the target plausible deniability for dressing up

Maybe do a bet and the loser has to wear this dress Or maybe make it real ambiguous and reveal the dress part later

Or maybe make a bigger social event where everyone dresses so cutely so you might as well join in

Be kind, be accepting and patient, love every single step “he” takes and be very vocal about your encouragements

Truly love bomb “him”, make “him” associate feminity with happiness (if that association isn’t there already), make every step made “wonderful and lovely and you’re doing so great and I’m so so proud of you and I just want to gobble you up and and and” don’t give “him” any time to doubt

“He” is adorable and you’re so so so glad “he” is letting you do “his” nails, you know this color would fit so so well, and regardless of how well painted the nails are, they do add so much and make “him” look so good, and we should really try purple next!

That’s another crucial step, once you make progress don’t let it go

You paint his nails? Wonderful! If they get chipped and “he” asks how to remove it als to it for “him and instantly apply a new color

“He” let you do some basic makeup? Make “him” feels so so pretty and set a time next week when we can try the different mascara! And maybe even dress up a little to match the make up!

“He” puts on a skirt for you? Well it’s gorgeous it fits so so well it’s really “his” color! And maybe just take it with you? And if not let’s go clothes shopping next week! I know this lovely second hand store where we can get you so many beautiful clothes for cheap! It’d be a shame if you didn’t own at least one skirt yourself!

And, I kind of forgot what I was saying there! Just get “him” to agree to one minor point, make “him” feel so so loved for it, and always set up the next point, which can be either more of the same or an escalation, but never give her time to doubt, herself always pin down a “next-time” for her to look forward to, and always make her feel so so loved for showing up every time!

People aren’t nearly vocal enough about how they feel towards those closest to them! Be the exception!

[nami-moittli]

I think you like Leah

…A little

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

I think I need that "Wow, I haven't stubbed my toe in five months! I was then shot fifty-seven times." Audio again

[chancedarling]

"I mean, yeah... I guess..."

Absolutely not. Even though he's sure that the secret he recieved was not about him - in that he doesn't lie about 'everything' - he lies about enough. Fuck these people. His life isn't for them to peruse.

"...I haven't heard anything so far that might sound like it's about me. And what would be gained by hiding stuff. I don't think there's anything that I would need to keep secret that badly. Like, sure I've done some embarassing stuff... But I doubt that would bother people here. So - yeah - I'd be okay about admitting it."

LOL. Liar liar pants on fire.

He does, however take the chance to look between the little strip of paper between Darcy's slender fingers and back to her face. Those puppy-eyes quite evident blinking in wide-eyed innocence before asking very, very quietly...

"Wouldn't you?"

Oh, the implication was clear from the moment the words left Darcy's mouth. That perhaps she might not be so open and honest about her secret. Whether it be this one or something else. Which also implied that the little astronaut here might really have something worth hiding. Ditzy Darcy really did just get more interesting by the minute.

But then Darcy is pulled back by his question 'why'? Of course, he doesn't correct her or let her know that - yeah - he's already worked it out, he just lets her continue until the end, spelling out his own suspicions with her words. At least, that one thing they can agree on, the sowing of discord among the ragtag populace. Just a few little pieces of paper and everyone was squinting, judging and suspicious. It really hadn't been hard to do at all - well played Flowr. One hand raises to his mouth as though to cover a mild shock about Darcy's revelation. That the idea would never have occured - though she does add a tidbit to the theory that hadn't occured to Chance yet - mix in the mundane secrets with the spicy ones. Validate a few and the rest had to be real, right? Nice work, little astronaut.

But then she laughs, as though she's brushing it off. As though the problem of secrets is hers and her's alone to solve. Spitballing about names of people who she might rule out. And he listens as she runs through them obviously dismissing each ons of her theories... it's not like couples didn't have secrets from each other - or siblings for that matter (not Chance and Cala though. One of the things that kept them strong and solid was the shared joy in each others - darker - delights). She finally mentions Lokni, and Chance just pulls a slight face.

"I dunno. The only time we talked, he was outside of Selin's hut when I showed up. Seemed to get real mad at me for just being there and then left without even knocking. Seemed a bit... Uh.... Weird."

Which - for a change, was actually the absolute truth. Of course, Chance had rather enjoyed the attempt at posturing, rather taking advantage of Lokni's clear defensiveness over the whole situation. That had been a fun little interlude.

And while he's not outwardly accusing him of anything, Chance does like to sow those little seeds of doubt here and there. And now seemed like the perfect opportunity.

However, when Darcy asks what he thinks, Chance decides it's time for curveball number two-o.

He doesn't waste his time procrastinating over who might be the owner of said secret.

"What if... Some of the secrets... aren't secrets at all?"

"I mean, like you said, if some of them turn out to be true, then people will assume they all are. So... Maybe some people had secrets shared that they wouldn't mind admitting to... To... Y'know... Validate or something. And the rest are just bits of paper with awful things written on them - but they don't actually belong to anyone?"

"What if people aren't owning up to a secret because... Well... There isn't one about them. And the... uh... meaner ones are just there to throw more shade and rile folks up, get them all suspicious over nothing? Like... We can't prove or disprove that they are ALL real... Y'know?"

Darcy tilted her head, watching Chance curiously for a few moments. "So what you're saying is that if it is a secret about you that you'd actually not want getting out - not saying that there is such a thing, but if there is one -, and yet it's on one of these little pieces of tape and the person who got it flat out asks if it's about you, you'd be totally okay about just admitting it's about you?"

Maybe the little bit of disbelief in her voice said more about Darcy than it did about anything else, really - cause she certainly wouldn't admit to a lot of things in her past, even if it was just in a simulation, while not every single person's immediate reaction would be to deny a secret. But the question was out there already, no taking it back, and really, people weren't openly coming forward left and right about what their secret was, so other people were thinking along the same line as she did to some degree at least.

And once she saw the tiny piece of tape that Chance got, her stomach dropped, annoyed at herself for insinuating that she'd lie about her own secret if it came down to it. Cause this little piece of paper in her hand... if it was about her, there was no way she would admit to it.

This was one of the worst ones, somewhere close below the one about murdering people. Then again, it could be about other people, too? It didn't have her name plastered onto it - and that was the fucking point.

Chance's words about missing the point was what shook her out of the spiral she was slowly going down and she reacted instinctively, without even really thinking about it as she looked up to him finally, "Oh, you haven't figured that one out yet? It's exactly that - to turn us against each other. To sow distrust. That's why there are different levels of secrets. Cause it's that much more easier to admit to an affair that doesn't even affect people around here or to something smaller and more embarrassing than anything. And once there's that confirmation that all the secrets are real, everyone else starts looking at each other about the shitty ones. About the ones that contain secrets where you don't want to be on the same beach with the person it's about."

Her mind was spinning, really - maybe she really shouldn't have spelled it out like that. Something she's been thinking about since she realized she wasn't the only one who got a piece of tape and especially since Selin told her what her tape said. About somebody being a murderer among them. Cause really, who cared about a little affair when a killer walked among them. But then again, if she didn't start theorizing, if she didn't solve something so clear and simple while she was holding that fucking piece of paper Chance gave her, wouldn't that make her more suspicious. Whether it was about her or not, if she just tried to bury it, he'd immediately suspect her, right.

Which also meant, after a small glance down at the tape in her hands, she glanced back at Chance, raising it up. "This is one of those people would absolutely not want to admit to and others wouldn't want to be on the same beach with. Somebody sees this and suddenly, it's that much easier to admit to an affair at work, right?"

And the big question, really - who it could be about. "God, all of these secrets really just make me feel like I am the worst at getting to know people cause I keep having no clue," Darcy chuckled, scratching her forehead. "Like, I figured out this entire beach, I should be able to figure some of them out at least, right? But nope. I have no clue and I feel bad for my first thought wondering if it's Adarsh cause the amnesia would be a really easy lie to hide basically anything." Okay, not first thought, but that she would keep to herself.

"I think it would be easier to say who I would rule out - you, for one. Nobody would actually get their own secret and if you did and this was yours, you just wouldn't show it around. Calamity is also out - there's no way to keep lying about literally everything when you have a sibling on the island and your stories would have to match. Too many chances for slipping up. Based on the same logic, probably Tej and Zaid are also out. Alex we all know really was a tv show host, so we know for a fact he is not lying about everything. And Akhila has to have an actual medical degree, otherwise somebody would have already lost a limb and we'd be in much worse of a case, so she cannot be lying about everything either. But the rest... well, most of them I'd still say that I cannot possibly imagine them either, like can you imagine somebody like, say, Lokni, lying through his teeth? Cause I really can't, but then we're back to square one on who it actually can be."

She overdid it, she suddenly got worried, but really, if she just didn't say anything, if she ignored totally logical things and didn't point them out, it would be a lot weirder. And it wasn't about her anyway, it was different. Her situation was different. (She tried to convince herself anyway.) "What do you think?"

[ice-truck-killer]

So we have this belief here in my culture that kids can see things us adults can't see (so does animals) and it's often overlooked as imagery friends or wild imagination but some people swear that what they saw when they were kids was real and not at all imaginary. So my question is

Reblog for a bigger sample

[candyheartedchy]

Just want to thank everyone who’s been enduring my Spo.ngeBob fixation these past few days.