#idk just my thoughts on how the show is going to go

[choccy-milky]

I dont know why I had this vision of clora riding a scooter, like a cute light blue one with italy vibes, like a vespa, and sebastian panicking behind her LMAO

I SEE THE VISION AS WELL...idk how shes on a vespa tho since they werent invented yet so lets just assume theres time-turner shenanigans going on LMAO

but also anon this request was so funny to me because the SAME day you sent me it, i also got this one on twitter:

TRULY THE DUALITY OF MAN IS AT PLAY HERE!!! LMAOO debauchery vs wholesomeness...and it made me laugh so much

(and for anyone curious yes i WILL also be honouring the other request......eventually👀)

@jstfndmthngs splitting your ask into 2 again bc its a CHONKER but I LOVED READING IT🥹🥹 "how much they love each other to the abnormal level that i envy" LMAOO THATS FANFICTION FOR YOU, BABY!!😍 also YESS interacting with my readers in the comments was my fav parts of writing a lot of the time, and im SOOO grateful to the ppl who commented bc without them the story would have turned out DRASTICALLY DIFFERENT. like, i know there are some people who write the entirety of their fanfic and then upload it in chunks, but if i had done that/written my story in a vacuum and hadnt incorporated any of my readers ideas/suggestions it would have been SOOOO much worse honestly LMAO. like, not even necessarily putting their requests or ideas in my fic, but even sometimes just reading a comment that would say something like "i cant wait to see how clora/seb reacts to..." would make me think...oh. i was never planning on even showing their reaction to that. but now that they say that, good point, i definitely need to include that LOL. so yeah even just little stuff like that was SUPER important to my writing process and my story and helped me keep in mind what people wanted to see/things i may have missed or glossed over if i'd been writing by myself, but i also just loved getting comments in general bc i loved reading them and they were so motivating🥹 BUT THANK U SO MUCH IM GLAD U LIKED MY STORY/SEB & CLORA SO MUCH, AND TY FOR SHARING ALL YOUR THOUGHTS WITH ME!!🥹💖💖 im lowkey the same way... i cant read any other fics rn bc im still too attached to seb/clora BAHAHA so i still need to give it some time before i delve into other HL fics (i even downloaded a program that will let me replace names so that i can replace the mc's name with clora's LMFAOOOO THATS HOW MENTALLY ILL I AM ABOUT THEM!!😭😭DONT COME FOR ME🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🚓)

omg...i already love unlocking kinks in people but for it to be specifically seb x clora is even more of an honour BAHAHA omg i love that....but i get it too. clora is submissive and breedable af😍LMAOO (im sorry💀that wasnt me just now that was seb blame him)

@acrenna MERRY LATE CHRISTMAS AND ALSO LATE HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! this is so sweet THANK YOU SO MUCH😭😭im happy my story was able to get you out of your reading slump!! (and hopefully will continue to, with my oneshot im slowly but surely working on😩) BUT THANK YOU AGAIN I APPRECIATE YOU SM🥹🥹💖

@misskkfritz you actually arent the first to say this and i also saw a pinterest comment on my art say this........FELLAS DO I NEED TO WATCH GILMORE GIRLS NOW🤔🤔🤔

[halastar05]

Sun Shows Sun and Moon MAGIC! in VRChat

Just a little idea I had when I saw how interested Sunshine (EAPS Sun) was in magic. Our Sun does know magic now soooooo yeah.

He did make sure that Sunshine wouldn’t try finding magic themselves though-

Bonus:

[goldsainz]

# JB9 — NUMBER ONE GIRL !

MASTERLIST !

REQUEST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ on a rainy night, you reflect on the growing distance between you and joe, wondering if it’s time to let go.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ angst, emotional distance, talks of self-worth.

003. NOTE !

✯ i loved rosé’s album, and i feel like i haven’t seen enough people praising it??? idk i thought it was spectacular and so beautiful… this is my first written fic for joe so let me know how it is/or leave any feedback!

word count : 1,4k

The city lights blurred through the rain-streaked windows of your apartment. You stared out at the streets below, hands clutching a lukewarm cup of tea that you hadn’t taken a sip from in over an hour. Somewhere in the distance, the faint hum of sirens and car horns echoed, but your mind was locked on a single, unshakable thought—Joe.

The last time you saw him was two weeks ago, when he’d kissed you goodbye on his way to another game. You remembered the way his fingers lingered on your cheek, the way he’d promised to call as soon as he landed. And he did. At first. But as the days passed, the calls became shorter, less frequent. Now, you found yourself checking your phone obsessively, the growing silence between you heavy and suffocating.

You pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, trying to shake the chill that had settled in your chest. It wasn’t just the distance; it was the feeling that you were slipping further from his world with every passing day. His life was so big, so public, and yours felt so small in comparison. It wasn’t jealousy—at least that’s what you told yourself. It was the gnawing fear that he didn’t need you the way you needed him.

You thought back to when you first met. It wasn’t under the glittering lights of his fame, but in the quiet hum of a coffee shop on a rainy afternoon. He wasn’t the Joe Burrow everyone knew then; he was just Joe, a boy with an easy smile and a laugh that felt like home. You fell in love with his humility, his quiet confidence, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the room. Back then, his world didn’t feel so far out of reach.

But as his stardom rose, the cracks began to show. The late-night calls where he’d vent about the pressures of the game turned into hurried messages about flights and schedules. The weekends you spent tangled up together in your tiny apartment became rare, replaced by distant conversations and fleeting visits. You’d watch him on TV, surrounded by adoring fans, and wonder if he still saw you the way he used to.

You remembered the fight that changed everything. It was a few months ago, after he missed your birthday. You’d tried to be understanding, telling yourself that his career demanded sacrifices. But when he called that night, his voice distant and distracted, something inside you snapped. You’d told him that you felt like an afterthought, like you were holding onto something that was already slipping away. He’d gone quiet, his silence cutting deeper than any words. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft but firm. “You know how much this means to me. I thought you understood that.”

You’d cried yourself to sleep that night, the weight of his words pressing heavily on your chest. Since then, things had been different. The love was still there, but it felt frayed, like a thread stretched too thin. You wanted to believe that you could find your way back to each other, but the distance—both physical and emotional—felt overbearing.

Now, as you stared out at the rain-soaked streets, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were losing him. And the worst part? You weren’t sure if he even realized it.

The faint buzz of your phone jolted you out of your thoughts. His name flashed on the screen, and for a brief moment, your heart soared. But as you answered, the noise of a busy room greeted you before his voice did.

“Hey,” he said, his tone warm but rushed. “How’s it going?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing a smile he couldn’t see. “Good. Just the usual. How about you?”

“Busy,” he replied, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses in the background. “We just finished a team dinner. I wanted to check in before it got too late.”

“I’m glad you did,” you said softly, but the words felt hollow. The call already felt like an afterthought, something he’d done out of obligation rather than desire.

“How’s work?” he asked after a pause.

“It’s fine,” you replied. “Same old, same old. Nothing exciting happening here.”

“I’m sure you’re still killing it,” he said, his voice softening a little. “You always do.”

You smiled faintly at the compliment, even though it felt distant, like he was saying it out of habit. “Thanks. How’s the team? Everyone holding up okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Everyone’s been putting in the work. I think we’ve got a real shot.”

“That’s great,” you said, genuinely meaning it, but the words still carried a tinge of sadness. You wanted to be more excited, to share in his joy, but it was hard when you felt so far removed from his world.

There was another pause, longer this time. It felt like he was debating whether to say something. “Listen,” he started, “I might not make it back this weekend. Coach wants us to stay focused, and there’s some extra training we’re doing.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Yeah, I figured. It’s fine.”

“You sure?” he asked, his voice dipping slightly, like he knew it wasn’t.

“Yeah,” you lied, forcing a lightness into your tone. “I get it. You’re busy.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, but the words felt like they were on autopilot. How many times had he said that now? And how many times had you let it slide, convincing yourself that next time would be different?

“Okay,” you whispered, unable to muster anything more.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softening further. “I mean it. I hate being away this much. It’s not fair to you.”

Your throat tightened at the sincerity in his tone, but it only made the ache worse. “I know you’re doing what you have to do, Joe. I just… I miss you.”

There was a beat of silence on his end. “I miss you too,” he said finally, and for a moment, you let yourself believe it. “As soon as I get a break, we’ll do something. Just us. Okay?”

“Okay,” you murmured, even though you weren’t sure you believed him.

After the call ended, you stared at the phone, the screen dark and reflective. In it, you could see the faint outline of your face, tired and drawn. You thought back to the early days, when Joe’s attention felt like sunlight—warm and consuming, leaving no room for doubt. But now, the shadows had crept in, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were fighting for a space in a life that had outgrown you.

The rain outside grew heavier, the droplets cascading down the glass like tears you refused to shed. You wanted to call him back, to tell him everything—how lonely you felt, how much you missed the way things used to be. But what would that change? He was Joe Burrow, star quarterback, the golden boy of a city that adored him. And you? You were just the girl waiting for him to come home.

With a sigh, you set the phone down and turned away from the window. Maybe it was time to stop waiting. Maybe it was time to figure out who you were without him. But as you curled up on the couch, the thought of letting go felt like the hardest thing in the world.

The ache in your chest deepened, and a single tear slipped down your cheek. Maybe it wasn’t just time to figure out who you were without him. Maybe it was time to let him figure out what life was like without you. And maybe—just maybe—he’d realize what he’d lost.

You glanced back at your phone one last time, half expecting another call, a message, something—but the screen remained blank. In the silence of your apartment, you allowed yourself to wonder: if you walked away now, would he even notice? Would he fight for you the way you had always fought for him?

As the night stretched on, the doubt lingered, and the loneliness settled in like an old friend. Because deep down, you feared the answer more than the silence.

[alastxrs]

spencer reid x male! non-bau! reader

where reader is a paramedic or maybe a firefighter, and he & spencer have been dating for a while, but spencer’s been keeping reader & their relationship a secret because he hasn’t come out to the team yet, and he scared to or smth..

one day spencer walks into the round table room late, and the team is questioning him suspiciously, because the last time reid came to work late, he was using (but in reality, he misses his alarm bc he wasn’t home; he was at r’s place).

after the team meeting spencer realizes he forgot something at r place (badge, bag, glasses, idk). and just as he’s asking hotch to stop by ‘a friends’ house to get what he left, reader shows up and brings it to him, saying something like, “I was on my way to work and I saw it lying on the couch”

( optional : spencer kisses r out of habit, forgetting the team is watching, and comes out to them, and their all reassuring and fluffy with him )

My Darling Doctor

SPENCER REID X MALE!READER

An FBI agent and a Paramedic together, it wasn't meant to be a secret. How will the team react finding out?

❝THERE IS NO PLACE LIKE HOME.❞ -L. Frank Baum.

Spencer was already late to work but it wasn't his fault that he was a few minutes late, he bit the inside of his cheek as he looked out the window of the train. He had already told Hotch that he was on his way over.

This morning had just distracted him a lot.

"C'mon N/N, I've got to head to work." The brunette haired male whispered to his boyfriend who laid next to him with his arm wrapped around his waist, the (H/C) haired male just buried himself deeper into his neck. "I need to go."

The other male frowned with his eyes still closed when he heard his boyfriend but made no move to let go.

"I know you're awake."

A sigh escaped his lips as the taller/smaller male opened his eyes and looked at him. "Do we have to? We could just stay here." he asked.

"Yes we do, you and I both have work." Spencer pointed out to which the other man groaned. Y/N gave him a kiss on his cheek before getting out of the bed, he watched his partner stretch his arms and move towards the bathroom. "I'll make it up to you when I finish work!"

"You better! Now, get your smart ass in this shower!"

He couldn't contain his laughter as he followed his boyfriend into the shower.

Spencer smiled a bit when thinking about his boyfriend, though his thoughts were cut off when the elevator doors opened and he realized he had gotten off the train; he was already at work.

He slightly jumped when he saw the group waiting before the elevator as he stepped out. Were they heading out?

"So... are you gonna tell us why you were late?" Derek asked him with his arms crossed. The question had him confused for a moment. "Cause, kid, you are never late."

The brown-haired male was about to say something until Penelope cut him off. "The last time you were ever late was when you were using, are you back?" she asked as she gently grabbed his hands and gently squeezed them. "Please tell us you aren't-"

"No! Why would you guys think I'm using again?" The taller male questioned as he pulled his hands out of her hands. "I just missed my alarm-"

"You never miss your alarm, Spence." JJ pointed out to him.

Hotch was quiet while the rest of the group asked questions, he kept his eyes on the younger man before he asked a question of his own. "Did you forget anything?"

Spencer was quiet when he heard the question before he patted himself.

He forgot his bag. With his badge and glasses.

Everything was in his bag and he had a panicked look on his face when he realized he had forgotten his bag.

He stayed quiet for a moment before he looked back at his Chief. "Is...it possible I could quickly go to my friend's house?" he asked, the others were quiet at that question. "I was....staying with him and left my bag there on accident."

Before Hotch could answer him, the elevator door opened again and there stood Y/N with his bag in his hand. A smile formed on the other's face as he saw Spencer and he quickly jogged to the group.

"Hey babe! You left your bag on my couch, I already let my Chief know that I'm gonna be a few minutes late." The (H/C) haired male giggled though his Chief was understanding. "I made sure all of your stuff is inside so your badge, glasses and-"

Spencer was relaxed hearing that all of his stuff was inside of the bag yet he stopped his partner from speaking by kissing him on the lips.

A surprised look was on the paramedics face before his smile returned.

"If this is how you are going to thank me everytime I give you something, I should get into the habit of doing this~!"

The taller/smaller male shook his head. "Thank you for bringing my bag." he thanked his boyfriend, he kissed the other on the cheek since the two of them had usually gotten into the habit of kissing either each others foreheads or cheeks when something was done. "I need to get used to bringing my stuff with me when I leave your house."

"I'm glad I caught you before you left!" Y/N gently reached for his hand before kissing the taller/smaller's cheek. "Now I've gotta get going soon but before I do..."

The Paramedic smiled at the group as he waved at them. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you guys and I wish I could have a proper conversation with you all but I must go." he squeezed Spencer's hand before letting go. "Though, when you guys get back and whenever I finish work, let's get a drink."

That was when Y/N left, without letting a single one of them speak.

Derek's expression was surprised before he pulled twenty dollars out of his pocket and hand it to Emily, who had a smug look on her face.

"You have got to tell us on the plane how you two met and got together." The dark-haired woman said to him, the rest of the group got out of their shocked daze because they had realized their Spencer had a partner.

Penelope smiled at the younger man. "We are very happy for you! He seems like a sweetheart." she said.

Derek chuckled as he patted his back. "How long have you been hiding him from us? Afraid we would scare him off?"

"No...I was scared he'd scare you all..." Spencer muttered to which the others laughed.

Y/N had scared him when they first met and somehow convinced him into a relationship.

Hotch had a small smile on his face at the conversation before he shook his head and got back to the case at hand. "You are late so we'll go over the case on the jett." he spoke as the group began walking again. "Let's go."

It was quiet while they make their way to the private jett until Derek decided to ask something when they had gotten to the jett.

"So....does he top you or do you top him...?"

JJ and Emily gently hit Derek for asking such a personal question, David rolled his eyes and shook his head as he sat down.

"You don't just ask that kind of question!!"

"You aren't winning our other bet like this!!"

Spencer had a small smile on his face since it felt nice that the team didn't think of him any different as he grabbed the case file before he paused in front of where Derek was sitting.

The slightly older man looked confused for a moment at the younger man.

"We switch, if you want more than talk to him yourself." He answered, Derek's eyes widened when his question was answered and he was going to ask more as Spencer moved to sit across from him/

Hotch looked at the rest of them. "Let's focus on the case and talk about Reid's love life later."

And now their brains were back on the case.

Meanwhile....

Y/N was currently in cloud nine while thinking about kissing Spencer again when the man got home, his own team was shaking him awake.

He wouldn't wake up until he heard they needed to head out.

The (H/C) haired man couldn't wait for Spencer to get home as he thought about the things they would do once the other's case was over.

The two were definitely adorable.

Might be clinging to each other when the case was over, Y/N already had the day off when his boyfriend would be coming home.

"HELP HELP, I'M BLEEDING OUT."

That's when Y/N woke up from his daze and he quickly sat up before realizing his team were playing a prank on him.

"Oh fuck you lot..."

[rafesheaven]

Idk what got into me but handyman!rafe’s been on my mind HEAVY lately and I got this yummy idea: I feel like he’s MAJORLY into humiliation but he’s also rough and mean…so he also likes forced orgasms when he’s dealing with your bratty attitude. Like I can see him either having your hands cuffed behind your back and laying over his lap, or tied to your bed with your legs apart with rope or like a spreader bar or something, just making you sob and scream as you cum over and over cause he def has one of those big wand vibrators for when he’s feeling extra mean. Your little skirt is flipped up and your panties completely soaked from cumming and squirting while he keeps going at your cunt, taunting you, “awww princess, so messy, aren’t you? those panties can’t feel too good, huh? Make a mess for daddy one more time and I’ll clean you up and get you new ones” and once he thinks you’ve had enough he rubs his cock along your folds until he shoots his cum all over your soaked pussy. Then he gets you up and tells you to get your shoes on and you’re confused and tired cause you thought he was gonna let you change, “c’mon baby, m’takin you out. you’re keeping those panties on so you better not get your mess everywhere and show everyone how much of a slut you are…”

he's gonna make an appearance, i swear cause that's my icky, gross husband <3

100% he's into humiliation, he likes seeing and making you squirm, loves seeing how embarrassed you get when he's being all gross and icky :(

FORCED ORGASMS YES YES YES !!!!

him tying your wrists and ankles to your bedposts while he's between your legs with a vibrator, increasing the speed each time you writhe and sob from the overstimulation...your inner thighs messy and covered with arousal, and your pretty panties completely ruined. "aww doll face, your panties must be making you uncomfortable sticking to your pretty cunt like that. look at that...making such a big mess f'me. c'mon, baby, make a mess for daddy one more time, and i'll clean you up and get you new ones, yeah?"

after he thinks you've had enough with the vibrator, he turns it off before rubbing his cock along your soaked panties, his fat tip nudging your clit each time. he's practically fucking you through your panties, pulling cries from you until he's busting his load, covering the delicate silk with his cum before untying you. he enjoys the sheer confusion on your face when he tells you to put your shoes on, "c'mon baby, m'takin you out. you're gonna keep those panties on till we get back so you better not make a mess everywhere or everyone will know how much of a slut you are"

[sonic-heat]

Hello!! If it is okay could I please request Sonic NSFW headcanons? 🫶🥹

thank you and happy new year!!!

Absolutely! He's my favorite to write about if it wasn't already obvious ✨ happy new year to you too anon!

You didn't specify which sonic so I'm going for normal canon/mainline games sonic!

Side note, this turned into more of an x reader than anything else- still headcanons regardless! That's what I get for not writing in forever...

NSFT under the cut;

⚡Sonic the hedgehog NSFW headcanons⚡

This post uses gender neutral/multi gender options for inclusivity, depending what you're comfortable with!

Warnings: mention of protected sex, praise, masturbation, penetration. Let me know If I missed any!

To start off with; he is a switch. He's pretty adaptable given what circumstances he is in, he's more in it for the other person than himself unless it's a special occasion. Expect him to be in whatever place you want him✨

He is way more sentimental about it than he is casual about sex and intimacy. If his partner is comfortable he will warm them up to the idea if the partner doesn't initiate first. Expect kisses, licks, nibbles, and sensual touches.

In addition to the last bit, he will always ask if what he's doing is okay. He wouldn't want to overstep a boundary. He will never start rough unless you tell him, he will gradually grope, stroke, or touch faster or more roughly as you allow it.

Sonic is generally very safe. he is a risk taker, when it comes to things like kinks or new positions, but he will always make sure proper aftercare is done, the area is comfortable for his partner, and proper protection is on/in. Expect to be treated like a prince/princess!

His favorite things on a partner is probably the chest/butt, either or for him. It's more to grab and touch and if his partner likes it then he's even more inclined to do things with it.

He is NOT quiet. He might start off quiet but oh boy- his voice can be kind of deeper in bed (like sonic frontiers type of deep) but he also has a very whiney and high pitched sound to him when he really gets into it, but it's not grating. He just can't help it if you just feel that good.

Expect is instincts to kick in, what I mean by that is he might lose himself into the feeling and get a bit over his head; he might go faster unexpectedly or too fast for you to keep up with.

Sometimes he might growl during sex. Probably from the werehog stuff still being present...

He's very body positive, any insecurities you have he will give extra kisses and adoration on when having fun with him. He loves to make you flush red and smile from his compliments, it makes him happy to let you know how beautiful/handsome you are.

He probably doesn't initiate as much as you would. He isn't sure when's the right time not to mention he can be awkward with love interests-

On the last note, he actually is very sexually active. He tries not to show it at all, but you might catch him on an off day having to deal with an "issue" the thought of you caused.

The age old question everyone has about sonic....does he keep his shoes and gloves on? Depends, actually. Typically he will take his shoes off but leave the gloves and socks on for comfort reasons, he will take the gloves off if he uses his hands on his partner/himself.

Very verbal. He will tell you he loves you and other affirmations. Sometimes he will teasingly play onto what he's doing/you're doing by saying things like "do you like that?" Or "that's it, that's what you want huh?" With a lower, sultry voice. He will do the same for encouragement, like "you're doing so good at this" or "you're taking this so well". He gives credit where credit is due!

He has sensitive spots behind his ears, on his tail, and between his quills that make him squirm when you touch them. He will jolt and melt into the touch.

Size? Given he's 3'3....I'd argue it's about 4 in. Idk, mobian sizing would be hard to figure out- so I only give an estimate.

He somehow has a large stamina, he can go for like 3 rounds and not feel tired.

He has a fondness for holding onto his partner during it, or wrapping his arms around them. He is mildly protective in his nature, and it adds to the intimacy for him.

He is quite flexible, do with that what you will. He also has no gag reflex (literally canon if you look at the intro to SATBK, he deep throats a chili dog??)

He can also get sappy during the deed, and tell you how he deeply appreciates you and other sentiments, this can also be the opposite end of the stick where he says or does something silly that makes you both laugh and lose focus for a moment.

Not really NSFW but he likes pets and belly rubs, like any creature would. Especially if they're soft and gentle, it'll instantly make him relax and melt.

Hes a big fan of holding your hand(s) while moving against/in you. It feels right to him.

Although he has a fast stamina, it takes him a little bit to recover from reaching his peak.

Oops made this very long oh well

I hope this is sufficient, anon! I might add onto this later if my noggin thinks up anything else, but here you go for now!

Requests are always open, I have a few requests to work on next, see you then! ~🌹

[sailorrhansol]

I fear Jade has done it again. We're only five days into 2025 and this is immediately my favorite read of the year so far. I am so obsessed with Jade's style of writing in particular and how the characters here have such good VOICES. The way they are so seamlessly in tune and the fucking banter literally.... if there are awards for fanfic, Jade needs nominations and wins in the best character voice and the best banter categories because this is a masterclass, I sweaaar.

Some of my favorite parts about this is how much reader cares about DK - not in like the oh I love him internal thoughts but in the way that reader feels frustrated on the way his family interacts with him - specifically when reader is talking to his sister and trying to steer the conversation to highlight HIS successes without reader having to talk about theirs or like - noticing that he's at a different table and it's no malicious but it's different and ugh - the internal defensiveness is SO good and shows how fiercely reader loves him in a way that doesn't feel like in your face I have romantic feelings as much as it is SHOWING reader both LOVES and is IN LOVE with DK. I'm ill.

THE EYE OF SAURON REFERENCE IS FOR ME AND I KNOW IT IS BECAUSE I MADE JADE WATCH LOTR RECENTLY BUT ALSO BECAUSE I ASKED ABOUT IT OSIDFJOISJGF. If Seonmi's evil eye is the eye of sauron then this fic is my GROND! GROND! GROND! because it is hammering down the fragile shell of my brain and shattering it. I love the way you write DK here, I love the way you capture him so perfectly and the way you represent his kind of sunshine character without being too heavy handed in a way that feels overdone it's just... god Jade. Your writing is so addictive.

Okay I am rambling I just love this piece so much, as I love many things that you do. I am forever in awe as a peer and a fan at your writing mechanics idk go write a fucking book loser i love u

triple-dog dare | lsm

“Bambi.”

The sternness of his tone surprised both of you, so much so that when you snapped to look at him, both of you froze. Your moon-sized eyes were further proof that your childhood nickname still rings true to date, although your being the deer made him the oncoming car in this scenario. 

He didn’t love that analogy.

Recovering quickly, he pulled the Ace from his sleeve: the surefire way for one of you to get the other onboard:

“I triple-dog dare you to come with me.”

pairing: lee seokmin x reader summary: when you're left off the guest list to seokmin's parent's thirtieth anniversary party, you're content to keep your questions to yourself and stay home. seokmin, on the other hand, is not content. in fact, he pulls the one card he knows will always win. au: childhood best friends to lovers genre: fluff, angst, smut type: one-shot rating: 18+ only. minors do not have my consent to interact. wc: 13k cw: pov switches, complicated sibling dynamics (seokmin’s), there is in fact one (1) bed, halmonis gone wild, stupid childhood nicknames, fingering (v), oral sex (m receiving), multiple orgasms, implied penetrative sex (p in v). reader notes: afab, uses she/her pronouns, wears a dress/heels to the party, is implicitly an only child. the setting is intentionally ambiguous, so she's not implicitly korean and/or asian. there are no descriptions of body shape/size, complexion, etc. a/n: thank you to the incomparable @daechwitatamic for beta-ing this! it's been a long damn time since i've written anything, so this might not have seen the light of day without jo, the hype-man. on that note, i suck at summaries; just read the fic, lmao. svt masterlist. svt permanent taglist. multi permanent taglist.

For being the walking disaster that he is, there have been shockingly few moments in Lee Seokmin’s life where he’s needed to shove his oversized foot into his oversized mouth.

Prior to the incident at your apartment, the last time he’d embarrassed himself like this was when he’d asked his oldest sister, Soyeon, in earnest whether or not she was pregnant, only to learn that she was just bloated; and he’s just an ass.

To your credit, you’re far from cruel when he slips up, but that almost makes it worse. You visibly deflate when he asks his well-intentioned but ill-fated question, rather than letting him have it the way his two siblings would have done.

The day in question went like this:

He asked, “Did you reserve your room yet for the 31st? If not, we can double up. It’ll be a lot cheaper.”

And you blinked, stunned like you’d been slapped. “Have I what?”

It dawned on you both at that moment that, for whatever reason, his parents’ thirtieth anniversary party was in fact news to you. Two things then happened at once: you tried to hide your surprise and the twinge of pain that comes with being excluded; and he racked his stupid brain to find any explanation for why you had to feel either one of those things.

The best option he found was to gently toss his middle sister, Seonmi, under the metaphorical bus. 

“Seonmi’s been working on something special for them. You know how she gets,” he waved dismissively. “So obsessed with finding the perfect napkins — ” He wiggled his fingers for emphasis. “— and creating custom cocktails, that she misses the forest for the trees.”

You didn’t look convinced. Likewise, you didn’t look any less uncomfortable.

Fuck.

“I’m sure it was an honest mistake.” To drive his point home, he reached from his spot on your couch to give your knee a reassuring squeeze. “I have a plus-one, so it’s not like it’ll be a logistical problem. You belong there as much as we do.”

And he meant it, wholeheartedly. 

All his life, the running joke has been that Soonyi and Minseok Lee have four kids: two biological daughters, a younger son, and his otherwise unrelated twin, who spent more time sleeping on his top bunk than in her own home next door. 

The way he saw it — and the way he’s sure his parents would see it — is that no family gathering is complete without you. That’s a hill he’d die on if need be.

You shifted in your seat, which caused his hand to slip off your knee, whether or not you meant for it to happen. Glancing uneasily out your window, you worried your bottom lip between your teeth, mumbling, “I don’t know…”

Seokmin frowned. You didn’t see it, though, and therefore weren’t moved by it. Instead, you cycled through your anxious thoughts at high velocity. If he was still touching you, he’d be worried that your sparking brain might catch him on fire.

“What if it’s not a mistake? I mean, what if it’s a couples thing?” 

He couldn’t even classify these questions as rhetorical because he wasn’t meant to hear them in the first place. Though you asked out loud, each one of them was for your ears only. From his half of the couch — miles away — his frown deepened, unbeknownst to you.

“You know, Seonmi follows me on Instagram; she’d know that Kai and I broke up a few months ago. Maybe she doesn’t want me to feel awkward? Even if I went, and I didn’t feel weird about that, her expecting it to be weird might make it weird, right?”

Fuck.

You’d spiral all day if Seokmin didn’t stop you. As much as he loves how thoughtful you are, he knows better than most that you have a tendency to take it too far, inflicting that relentless consideration on yourself until it wounds. 

“Bambi.”

The sternness of his tone surprised both of you, so much so that when you snapped to look at him, both of you froze. Your moon-sized eyes were further proof that your childhood nickname still rings true to date, although your being the deer made him the oncoming car in this scenario. 

He didn’t love that analogy.

Recovering quickly, he pulled the Ace from his sleeve: the surefire way for one of you to get the other onboard:

“I triple-dog dare you to come with me.”

Begrudgingly, you’d conceded, just like Seokmin hoped you would. You sat with him while he figured out travel plans to the mountain resort, helped him visualize what the hell he needed to wear to an event like this. When the time came, you sent him half the cost for the room he booked, even though he repeatedly insisted that you didn’t need to chip in.

Now, that unsolicited sum sits untouched in his Venmo balance. You sit next to him on the night train out of town.

Sit, he thinks, is a bit of an understatement. You’re barely upright, so exhausted from your work day that his shoulder and side are bearing most of your weight. His arm went from tingling to numb an hour ago, but Seokmin doesn’t mind. There isn’t a burden he wouldn’t carry for you, up to and including you yourself.

Besides, he’s not worse off for being left to his own devices. In fact, he keeps himself thoroughly entertained by taking selfies of the pair of you. The aftermath will stay securely in his camera roll — largely because you’d kill him if you saw how squishy your face is, pressed against his coat, or how your little pout trembles slightly, almost as if you’re trying to talk through your sleep — but he still finds it worth the risk. This mochi-cheeked version of you is one of his favorites.

When Seokmin has amassed enough silly photos to comprise a dossier, he tucks his phone back into his pocket with a self-satisfied smile. You’re still out cold, so you don’t stir at his subtle movements or the sound of the concession trolley rattling your way down the aisle.

The girl manning said trolley is significantly outweighed by the thing itself. She hardly looks old enough to have graduated high school, he figures, and he can’t imagine how it is that she’s working at this hour — or how she got stuck doing this job, when it takes all she’s got to maneuver the giant metal contraption through all the train cars.

“Anything, sir?” She asks politely, albeit slightly out-of-breath. 

Even though she’s speaking to him, her gaze is directed squarely at his hat, leading him to believe that she may also be too shy for her job. Nonetheless, it’s been two entire hours since his dinner, and he’s on the brink of starving to death, so he coughs up a few bills in exchange for several different snacks. 

She could do him the kindness of assuming his massive pile of food is for sharing, but she doesn’t. She gestures to you and whispers, “Anything for your —?”

Seokmin intercepts the question, knowing exactly where it’s headed: in the same direction as the million others like it that he’s heard over the years. 

“— parole officer?” He supplies with a smile, “No, this nap is fueled by a lot of crab rangoon. She’ll be out for the duration, I fear.”

Both halves of his response seem to stun her, which means he has to cover his inevitable laugh with a fake cough. 

This bit of yours will truly never get old, although the implications that prompt it did a long time ago. It was a stroke of genius on your part, dodging inaccurate references to your relationship status by offering up something too absurd to converse around.

“You two make such a cute couple,” an Uber driver once told you.

“He’s not in a relationship,” you’d politely corrected him. “He’s in witness protection. I’m duty-bound to keep him and his identity safe.”

The silence turns awkward, so Seokmin thanks the girl and gives her a smile he hopes says, “you’re allowed to run away from me now; I won’t take it personally.” She bows her head a little too eagerly, then skitters off with a grimace, like she pulled something in her neck.

Alone again with you, he wiggles gently upright in his seat so that you can rest more comfortably against his pectoral, rather than his shoulder bone. Even though you’re still asleep, Seokmin swears he hears a quiet mmpfh, as if you’re expressing gratitude. He bites his lips to keep from smiling, knowing that smiling in your proximity is one step away from laughter: the only thing you’ve never been able to sleep through.

Instead of giving into the urge, he murmurs, “You should get paid royalties whenever we use that joke. Being as smart as you are should pay off.”

Now, he knows he’s not simply hearing things because you’re just barely loud enough to overcome your own mumbling. 

“Agreed,” you sigh on an exhale before slipping to sleep off again.

“Well?” 

There are two beats between his first question and his next: the unfilled gap you’ve left in the conversation and the cab’s trunk shutting firmly. “‘s that cool with you?”

Seokmin stares at you, staring at him. His expression is soft, like your lack of responsiveness is something to be fond of, rather than annoyed by. It’s unexpectant, too, leaving the door wide open.

You blink. “Sorry — I — What did you say?” 

Hitting him when he least expects it, you shift your suitcase from your dominant hand so you can gesture properly to the bright, poorly crocheted bucket hat flopping over his forehead. “It’s a bit hard to hear you. That hat is so loud.”

His quizzically raised eyebrows drop in an instant. Likewise, that airy smile of his flattens into a straight line. 

Bullseye.

“Is it me that you hate?” He asks, tone dead serious as he points his finger towards his own chest. “Or is it the very concept of whimsy?”

You’re too busy biting back a grin to protest when, without being asked, Seokmin reaches out and takes the handle of your suitcase into his own hand, as well as the garment bag you’d draped over your arm. Before turning away to abscond with both sets of luggage in addition to his own, he shoots you an incredulous look. It dissolves entirely before his face even disappears from view. 

“This is an objectively delightful hat,” he mutters, nonetheless, in furtherance of the bit.

He spots a member of hotel staff standing on the sidewalk directly outside the hotel’s double doors and pleads his case to them. “She made me this hat, you know,” he announces, gesturing back to you with a nod.

The valet’s uniform hat casts a shadow under the lamplight, but it doesn’t do enough to hide the expression on their face. It is abundantly clear — even in the dark — that they didn’t hear a single word Seokmin said before he offered up that bit of trivia, seemingly apropos of nothing. They muster up a customer-service smile that doesn’t reach their eyes and tell him it’s a wonderful hat. Meanwhile, you roll your eyes from behind because nothing either of them just said is true.

That hat is the byproduct of delusions of grandeur and innumerable skeins of color-conflicting yarn. You made it for yourself, believing that you were the kind of cute and kitschy person who could pull it off; and inconsolable weeping Christ, were you wrong. It was — no, is — your greatest fiber arts failure.

Frankenstein’s floral monster would be in a secondhand shop somewhere if you’d had any say in the matter. It isn’t because you didn’t. Seokmin “rescued” it from the “to donate” pile on your bedroom floor. Since then, he’s worn it at every — public — opportunity, season be damned.

Admittedly, he’s exactly the kind of cute and kitschy person who can pull it off, but you’ve decided out of sheer pettiness to keep that appraisal to yourself.

You take your time catching up to him, both because his long legs make it hard to keep pace; and because the room is reserved under his name. After all, he’s the welcomed guest, not the reluctant party-crasher. The receptionist is already handing him a white keycard when you finally reach the desk. Seokmin holds it up between his index and middle fingers, closed-eye grin sparkling in a matching shade of ivory.

Though the journey up to your shared room is long, the real trip is being confined to an elevator with mirrors for walls. 

No matter how hard you try to avert your eyes, you manage to keep finding some new, horrible angle of your stale, post-train state. It’s torture. Three versions of you stare back with deep, dark undereye circles; and all you can think about is how dull your complexion is — especially in comparison to Seokmin, who may as well be bioluminescent with the way he glows from the inside out.

It’s joy, you know, his primary state of being and something he radiates like no other. He’s happy to be here, happy that you’re here, and happy to be happy. Whether or not he means it to be, it’s infectious. Now, you feel yourself starting to smile, too.

Despite your quiet observation, you must have missed him looking at you. Seemingly out of nowhere, he carefully sets down your belongings, raises his now-empty hand, and cups the right side of your jaw. Unaware that you’ve frozen solid, he swipes his thumb carefully over your cheek, tilting his own head to the side and frowning.

“I got you bad, huh?”

You blink.

“The zipper on my coat,” he explains, laughing. “Looks like it took a bite out of you when you used me as a pillow on the train.”

For reasons you can’t possibly explain, the only word to roll off your tongue is a sheepish, “Sorry.”

For a second, Seokmin is just as confused as you are about whether you’re needlessly apologizing to him or his coat. He chuckles quietly at how easily distracted you both are, then he gets back to the point: “Does it hurt?”

“No.” 

Your response comes unnaturally quick. Your pulse does, too, when you finally make eye contact with him. After clearing your throat, you give him a half-hearted smile, ignoring whatever medical event you seem to be experiencing. “I didn’t know it was there until now.”

He hums in acknowledgment, then rescinds his hand. You watch in silence while he re-encumbers himself with your luggage and turns back to face the elevator doors, which open almost immediately.

Seokmin steps out easily, like the weight of your respective burdens doesn’t mean a thing. “I’d say this way, please, but I’ve already forgotten the room number,” he admits with a sheepish laugh. “The keycard’s in my pocket.”

You take his cue and reach into the front, right pocket of his coat for the keycard. As soon as you see the room number, you snort.

“You booked room number 218 because that’s your birthday, and then… what? You forgot your own birthday?” 

“I’m deeply flawed.” He sighs, put-upon. “Now, let’s go, Bambi. It feels like you packed a week’s worth of bricks.”

There’s no time to point out that you never asked him to carry your suitcase or bag for you in the first place. Likewise, there’s no opportunity to ask exactly how many bricks is a week’s worth. He’s on the move again before you can blink, energy evident in each step regardless of how late it is.

Once again, you follow Seokmin’s lead. Despite the signage, which is clearly visible on the wall, he walks confidently in the wrong direction, prompting you to grab him gently by the elbow and steer him the opposite way. His smile doesn’t falter; he plays it off as if he was just testing how closely you’re paying attention. 

It takes several turns down several additional hallways before the pair of you reach your target. When you come to room 218, you tap the keycard against the reader, causing the lock to click open. You turn the handle, push the door open into the room, and step awkwardly out of the way so your personal bellhop can get by.

“This is what I was trying to tell you when you so viciously insulted my favorite accessory.” Seokmin nods his head towards the center of the room. “All of the rooms Seonmi included in the reservation block have a king-sized bed — singular. The rooms outside the block are criminally overpriced for ski season.”

It’s far from the first time you’ve doubled up, so you shrug. “Just like old times, right? Like, when you thought your house was haunted, and you forced your way into the top bunk with me?”

“First of all,” he says as he sets both of your suitcases down and places one hand on his hip, the other pointing at you. “We were six.”

After locking the door behind you, you toe off your shoes, smirking at him from over your shoulder. “What’s your second point?”

“It was haunted —” He insists. Then his stern expression melts into something smug, the way it always does when he’s about to blatantly rewrite history. “— and you asked me to come up there because you were scared.”

A laugh slips out of you automatically, but you selflessly decide to let him have this. Crossing to him, you pat him on the bicep, patronizingly simpering all the while, “You are the brave one.”

Even though you’re both cowards, and he knows it, he pockets this little victory with a pleased hum and a grin.

Turning away from him, you make a beeline for the closet area near the door. There, you shuck off your coat and hang it up, out of the way. While you do, Seokmin passes you both your garment bag and his. From there, the pair of you work in efficient silence: you, pulling your respective formal wear from their bags and smoothing out any wrinkles; him, tucking away your extensive collection of toiletries in the bathroom.

When everything is in its place, you turn back around and notice for the first time how beautiful the room actually is. Though the shades of the floor-to-ceiling windows are almost completely drawn, the snow-covered mountains are at least partially visible through the gap in fabric. If you had the time, you’d spend all day tomorrow sitting on the forest green, velvet chaise directly in front of the window, staring at frosty peaks so massive, they feel close enough to touch.

To your right, an electric fireplace heats the room, while a portrait-framed television hovers on the wall above the mantle, flipping through famous artworks as a screensaver. In between flashes of Van Gogh’s Almond Blossoms and Klimt’s The Kiss, you catch a glimpse of Seokmin’s smile reflecting on the black screen.

Awestruck, you turn to him and sigh, “Don’t let me get used to this.”

He jerks his thumb to his right, gesturing towards the bathroom. “Don’t judge me if I steal one of the bathrobes. They’re probably more expensive than half the shit in my apartment.”

“I won’t, but they’ll bill you for it when they figure it out,” you warn him. “On that note, do you need to shower or anything before I start my skincare side quest?”

Seokmin shakes his head, causing the crocheted abomination to flop. “All yours. My hair’ll get weird if I don’t deal with it tomorrow before we head out.”

And with that mental image of his insurmountable cowlick, you quickly grab your pajamas and shuffle off towards the bathroom.

The first few seconds after you close the door are spent gawking at the insanely intricate, geometric tile pattern in the walk-in shower. Thinking of how much time it must’ve taken to lay each one of them, you set to work on your own tedious task: your ten-step regimen of cleansers, toners, serums, and moisturizers. Seokmin says otherwise, but you don’t think any of them truly make a difference. As stupid as you know it is, the routine itself is therapeutic, even if your skin is no more bouncy and glowy than it was before.

When it’s all said and done, you emerge from the bathroom to find your best friend stretched out on the half of the bed nearest the door with his eyes fixed on his phone screen. It’s the side of the room he always chooses, claiming that it’s to protect you from any intruders, but you know the truth: he’s too much of a freeze baby to sleep near the window, and he knows you like it cold.

“Feeling refreshed?” He mumbles to the best of his ability; his sweatshirt hood is pulled up and drawn so tightly that it squishes his cheeks and chin, restricting his movement.

Chuckling quietly as you go, you pad over to your half of the bed and slip under the comforter. Like a moth to a flame, the other occupant sends his last text, tosses his phone to the side, and scoots closer to you, eager to siphon whatever extra body heat he can. His head winds up on your shoulder, while your cheek rests against the top of his head.

“Before you tell me that I look it, I’d encourage you to stare long into the abyss that is my under-eye circles.”

When he laughs, it’s merely a puff of air from his nose. “You never look as tired as you feel,” he says distractedly, fiddling with the drawstrings of his hoodie. “Pretty miraculous, given how little sleep you get.”

That comment warms you up so thoroughly, you wonder if he can feel it. Then, you wonder if that was the point. You intend to tease him for that, but then it dawns on you how fidgety he’s being. It’s rare for him.

“You okay, Thumper?”

It feels silly, using that nickname after so long. Your clumsiness stuck around for the ride, continuing Bambi into perpetuity; but he grew out of his companion name when he hit puberty, and his giant feet were suddenly proportional to the rest of him. 

He’s certainly no bunny, nor is he a child, but the low ebb of anxiety rolling off of him reminds you of the scared little neighbor boy you used to know. It fits, even if it is silly.

At first, Seokmin begins his explanation without peeling his gaze off his restless fingers. “Apparently, Seungcheol and Mingyu are in town.”  Then, his eyes slowly lift up to find you peering down at him. “They want to meet up to go snowboarding before we leave.”

Ah.

There it is: the top-secret look in his eye that only you can decipher. The one he’s been practicing for years, at your insistence, for moments like this, when he needs to be talked into something. When he needs to be brave and avoid missing out on something he’d love, solely because it freaks him out.

You respond the same way you always have; the way you once pinky-promised you always would: “I triple-dog dare you.”

He sighs deeply, neither fully resigned nor relieved, but then he nods. His head knocks slightly against your shoulder as he does. “I’ll do it.”

And that’s that; it’s settled.

Or so you think.

A beat passes in silence, until Seokmin suddenly pipes up again, “But you’re going to have to hold my hand on the chair lift, or I’ll pass out and fall to my death.”

“Deal.” 

You grab his hand now in consideration of your promise and scratch affectionately at his palm. Surprisingly, his thoughts haven’t made him clammy. His skin is even softer than usual, likely due to the expensive hotel lotion he’s undoubtedly now harboring in his suitcase. Tongue firmly in cheek, you look at him sideways. 

“Just — leave the hat in your suitcase, okay? The snow will be blinding enough.”

Seokmin’s been dressed and ready for at least thirty minutes, but you’re still standing exactly where you have been for the last forty-five. Face pinched, you turn this way and that in front of the mirror, smoothing fabric that’s already wrinkle-free, apparently for the hell of it.

“I’m oh-for-three.” Your exasperated sigh is punctuated by your bare, right foot stomping on the carpet. It doesn’t make the impact you likely hope it will, at least sonically. It does, however, speak volumes about how close to the ledge you are.

“All of them looked good,” he says earnestly. “I think this one is my favorite, though, if that means anything.”

Apparently, this is the wrong answer. Your wild-eyed gaze lifts from your own reflection until you’re staring him dead in the eye through the mirror.

“Why did I even pack this?��� You ask, “Do you see this?”

Suddenly, you lift a manicured hand to point at your neckline, from which he’d admittedly been averting his eyes. “This is too much cleavage for a family function, isn’t it?”

As quickly as you glanced at him in the first place, you go right back to fussing with your dress, thankfully missing the way he swallows thickly.

Fuck, now he’s staring — but you’re the one that made him look in the first place — and he can feel heat rising to ears, a dead giveaway. His sudden silence does enough to communicate his struggle. He has no idea how to respond without vaulting over the boundaries of your friendship.

Is it hot in here?

Deciding to rely on his usual tactic, he jokes his way out.

“If you think I’ll ever side against tiddie…” He forces a grimace, shaking his head gravely. “Then you really don’t know me at all.”

You laugh loudly, and whatever one-sided tension filled the room snaps like a twig. Better still, the smile you give him stays on your face while you reassess your dress. Seokmin takes it as a personal victory that you commit to his choice, rather than cycle back through your options for the second time. 

While this means that you’ll both be able to hit the open bar sooner rather than later, the biggest upside is that he no longer has to keep excusing himself to the bathroom so you can change again, and again, and again.

You finish up quickly, tossing on jewelry, and then turn to him. His shoulder keeps you steady while you slip into your devilishly high heels. Seokmin pays them little mind now, however; his attention is drawn to the accessories you’ve chosen. Sure, they match perfectly with the rest of your outfit, but that’s not what strikes him. It’s the fact that everything you’ve picked was gifted to you by his parents at one point or another.

Unable to stop himself, he reaches out and gently taps on one of your dangling earrings. “Eighteenth birthday,” he muses to himself. 

Then, both his gaze and his hand lower to your necklace. He skims his fingertip along the delicate, gold chain, inadvertently making you freeze up. “Christmas 2019?”

You shake your head slightly, though it barely counts as movement.

“Ah,” Seokmin corrects himself. “2020.”

Sensing that he’s somehow made you uncomfortable, he reels himself back in and clears his throat. “Shall we?” He asks, furnishing you with a bent arm to loop yours through.

You take his cue, link your arm to his, and sigh, “I suppose we shall.”

The walk to the elevator is quiet, in that neither one of you says a thing. Seokmin can hear the gears in your head turning, though, without any conversation to drown them out. 

You step inside that glorified, mirrored box; and for a few minutes, he lets you work through the thing he knows ruined your sleep last night. That is, until he hears your breathing come a little quicker than usual.

“Hey.” 

It was supposed to be a jumping off point. He was going to go from there and reiterate that you belong here with him. The plan was to reassure you for as long as it takes to get you to believe it, but you look up at him almost helplessly, and his Etch-a-Sketch brain is wiped clean in an instant.

The very best he can do is smile and offer a single word: “Hi.”

“Hi,” you whisper back, eyes twinkling. 

Your plagued frown curves slightly back in the right direction. The creeping shroud of doom lightens, if only a little bit.

“That’ll do, pig.” You swat his arm, but he says it again, emphatically, “That’ll do.”

Halfway through you scolding him for quoting Babe at a time like this, the elevator door reopens, ready to regurgitate the pair of you out onto the ballroom level. 

Unlike the lobby, which sits only one floor below, this floor looks like it was ripped straight from the pages of a fantasy novel. Everywhere he turns, there’s something new — and vaguely elven — to look at. Fairy lights hang in perfectly spaced arches from the lofted ceiling, delicately illuminating the exposed, wooden beams above. The chandeliers — plural — are crafted out of antlers of some kind, cutting between rugged and highly refined.

As stunning as it all is, Seokmin’s mind snags on a single conclusion. You’re the one who voices it, though, much to his surprise.

“This is the most Seonmi thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” you whisper to him, all without taking your eyes off the extravagance in front of you. “Is this a dress rehearsal for her wedding next year?”

He bites down on his lips hard to keep his laughter to himself. Of course, you’re dead on. Nothing about this space feels like his parents, who are supposed to be the sole focus of this entire event. He already found it odd that they agreed to such a big to-do in the first place — especially when it would require their loved ones to go out of their way, literally and financially — but this is….

“Am I being petty, or is this kind of… selfish?”

Petty, no. 

Psychic? Probably.

“You’re right, and you should say it.” Seokmin nods and withdraws his arm from yours so that he can drape it properly around your shoulder. “This way to the beer, please. We’ll need it.”

Merely four steps in the direction to the bar, and a screech rings out from somewhere neither of you can locate. In fact, Seokmin’s head is turned the opposite way when someone launches themself at you, damn near ripping you from his hold.

“Oh, my god! I knew you’d come!”

Soyeon’s relief in seeing you is palpable. Seokmin can practically feel his bones being crushed as she hugs you tight, swaying from side to side. He catches a glimpse of your expression, which barely peeks through the curtain of his oldest sister’s hair; you’re far happier now than you were in the elevator.

His sister kisses the side of your head. “I missed you so fucking much. I love my residency program, but I hate how far away it keeps me.”

A solid minute passes by like this. When it starts to get unbearable, Seokmin clears his throat, hoping to remind his sister that she hasn’t seen him in months, either; and he’s also standing right here.

Instead of greeting him, Soyeon shoots you a wry smile. “Who is he today? A fugitive you’re harboring?”

In tandem, the two of you appraise him with thoughtfully narrowed eyes. See, this he didn’t miss: being both of his sisters’ least favorite younger sibling.

“Oh, no, though I can see why you think that.” You shake your head, then reach out to pat his shoulder patronizingly. “If anyone asks, this is a foreign diplomat, and I’m the interpreter he can’t understand a word without. Best not say hi to him; he won’t know what you’re saying.”

Soyeon nods, though Seokmin wonders if she truly  gets what you’re trying to achieve. Not quite, he realizes a moment later. Instead, she covers his chin with her hand so she can squeeze both his cheeks at once.

“He’s adorable,” she coos. “Doesn’t look old enough or mature enough for diplomacy, though.”

Seokmin rolls his eyes. “Well, we can’t all be doctors, can we?”

Again, in tandem, all eyes on him widen with feigned shock. Between overlapping gasps of “he does understand!” and “someone’s been studying!”, he shakes off his sister’s touch and scowls.

“If you’re going to keep bullying me, can you at least do it at the bar? That way, I can numb my suffering with booze.”

At this, Soyeon drops the charade and pulls him into a hug like a vice grip. She holds him so tightly that his vision starts to get spotty. It’s not until he gently pats her back, begging for air, that she lets him go.

“I missed you too, Thumper,” she swears, prompting you to snicker.

Now, he’s annoyed for a completely different reason — one that makes even less sense to him. That nickname hasn’t bothered him in the last decade, so it shouldn’t now. Then again, the only person who’s called him Thumper since middle school is you.

The rules are different for you, if they exist at all.

“And I promise to catch up with you later, but I’ve got five thousand questions for Bambi, and the answers aren’t half as juicy with you around.”

Just like that, his plus-one is subtracted.

As much as you love Soyeon, she’s no Seokmin. With him, talking is easy; he never rushes to fill silences, doesn’t steer the conversation with a white-knuckled grip. 

On the contrary, his oldest sister comes forward with a pickaxe, smashing through small talk while she mines for the wild stories she thinks she’s missed out on since moving away.

You don’t blame her, really. If you spent all your hours in a hospital, only sleeping in the lulls between other people’s trauma, you’d probably become just as intense — the human equivalent of a cracked-open fire hydrant — in the search for closeness, too.

In the thirty minutes you sit with her, you brief her on all the cliffhangers you’d left her with the last time you saw her.

Yes, you’re still stuck with your lease in the same apartment; and the old lady next door still regularly sets off the building’s fire alarm by accident.

No, you decided not to stay with Kai and haven’t spoken since the breakup; he needed more of your time and energy than you wanted to sacrifice for him.

No, Seokmin still hasn’t gone out with anyone that you know of in months. In fact, it’s been so long since either of you have touched on this topic, especially compared to how little time he and the last girl were together, that you can’t even remember her name. 

Beyond that first, limited fact, you keep your mouth shut about the rest. It’s not your business to share; and it wouldn’t kill her to ask Seokmin about himself for once.

The longer you spend with her, the more frustrated you find yourself getting, although you keep this fact to yourself, too. Soyeon and Seonmi have both spent their lives fussing about Seokmin, talking about him like he’s some helpless baby, without doing much to get to know him.

That’s it.

If you were at all confident that Soyeon would take the initiative, you’d let her find all of this out on her own. She won’t, you know, but maybe it’ll sink in if she hears it from you.

“Seokmin’s doing really well, now that you mention it,” you offer, though she barely mentioned him in the first place. “He got promoted last month; he’s now lead architect on that massive commercial lot downtown. Apparently, it’s still a secret, whatever it is they’re putting there. Must be something special.”

Seokmin is something special, you all but yell inside your head.

Soyeon’s eyes brighten. 

Nobody loves secrets quite like she does. You wait for the barrage, anticipating all the questions to which you���ll have to respond with “seriously, I don’t know,” but they don’t come.

Instead, she puts her drink back on its coaster, reaches out, and squeezes your wrist with her slightly chilled hand. “I’m grateful that he’s always had you, Bambi. If he didn’t, I don’t know if he’d lean in to opportunities like that.”

The look on her face tells you she means it. Maybe that’s what makes your stomach sour: that she can sit there, hearing of Seokmin’s accomplishments, and still find a way not to credit him for them.

Anger ignites inside of you. The flames lick up your esophagus, ready to explode, and you suck in a breath with every intention of letting her burn.

But then an arm slinks around your waist. Seokmin’s head bumps slightly against yours until you’re cheek to cheek.

“I hope I’m interrupting something.”

For a second, you think his slight tipsiness caused him to misspeak. Tilting your head to the side the best you can, you look at him out of the corner of your eye and catch his very subtle wink.

Soyeon opens her mouth, but Seokmin makes his wish a reality.

“Sorry, sis,” Seokmin says, entirely unapologetically. “I just found out that the band takes requests; and I’ll be goddamned if Bambi and I don’t show you clowns the meaning of dance.”

It takes no encouragement whatsoever for you to slip off your stool, get to your feet, and inch your way closer to his side. Then, like a starting gun was fired, the two of you bolt clumsily away from the bar, with you shouting “sorry!” over your shoulder as you go.

Your heels skid against the dance floor when you finally reach it, but Seokmin steadies you before you can eat shit in front of god and everyone.

“You’re way too expressive, you know that?” The fact that he’s out-of-breath doesn’t keep him from laughing. “I could’ve seen that grumpy turtle face of yours from space.”

Unintentionally, you prove his point, drawing your eyebrows together and frowning. “I do not —”

“— Also, I lied,” he interrupts yet again.

This, coupled with the everything else going on, leaves you too stunned to speak.

“This band is all trot, all the time. They don’t take requests — trust me, I tried — but if you stay here with me long enough, we can kill two birds with one stone.”

Seokmin doesn’t wait for you to answer because he knows it’s a yes. He doesn’t wait for you to assume your position, either, and instead holds your left hand in his right before placing your right on his left shoulder. This close, you feel the urge to tell him how handsome he looks with his hair parted off his forehead. You don’t, however.

The music swells behind you. Seokmin leads, and you follow, swaying slowly and moving across the floor.

“Two birds?” You remember to ask, one eyebrow arched.

His right arm lifts. “Spin,” he whispers. You step under his arm, then twirl. While you’re facing the opposite direction, he continues, “There. Do you see it?”

“Oh, my god.”

You do.

The bar stool you were just occupying is now filled by Seokmin’s great-uncle, Hajoon, while his new and much younger girlfriend, Yunhee, hovers near his shoulder. Even from this distance, you can see the look of abject distress on Soyeon’s face, totally unhidden by her attempt to seem engaged.

You return to your position in front of Seokmin, your hand accidentally landing on his bicep, rather than his shoulder. Flustered by the deceptive bulk there, you immediately scoot your palm back to where it belongs.

He leans in so that only you can hear him. It doesn’t feel necessary at all, given how loud the band’s horn section is, but you don’t recoil this time. 

“They had me trapped over by the appetizers,” he explains, low voice making you shiver involuntarily. “Every time he started a story with when I was your age, I wanted to point out that Yunhee hadn’t been born yet.”

You can’t help the laugh that erupts out of you and therefore can’t pull your head away from Seokmin’s ear in time to save him. Instead of wincing or complaining, he looks at you and breaks into laughter of his own as soon as your eyes meet. The effect doubles, and before you know it, both of you are teary-eyed.

“How the hell did you get away from him?”

It’s a feat you've never once managed. Uncle Hajoon’s inability to read a room is equal parts due to his horrible hearing and his tendency to never stop talking. Even if he did leave space in the conversation for you to excuse yourself, you’d never successfully get the message across.

Seokmin lifts his arm again but not for you. He takes his leave to spin himself, simpering as he goes, “That’s where Yunhee came in handy, actually. I didn’t know she had it in her, but she’s not as much of a dud as we initially thought.”

“Oh?”

“She told him that I should be able to dance with my girlfriend, and he shouldn’t keep me any longer.” He shrugs. “It didn’t seem like the time to correct her.”

All the heat in your body goes straight to your cheeks. Nonetheless, you attribute it to the dancing and choke out, “No royalties for me, then.”

“Not this time.” Seokmin shakes his head. “I said that Soyeon was trying to catch up with everyone and would love to hear his stories.”

You bite back a grin. “You’re a bastard, you know that?”

“Maybe.” He smiles with every single one of his teeth. “But you’re free.”

“Surprisingly so. I haven’t felt the Eye of Sauron on me at all yet.” Just in case your statement serves as a jinx, you glance around the room for Seonmi. The tension you’ve been keeping in each one of your muscles slackens when, once again, your radar is blip-free.

“Dinner was supposed to start ten minutes ago. If I had to guess, she’s either leaving a scathing Yelp review or personally waterboarding the chef as we speak.”

“Both at the same time,” you counter, earning a wry smile. “She inherited your mom’s self-assuredness. If she believes she can, she will.”

After the pair of you dance through two more songs, the band breaks, and the hotel’s battalion of waiters come in, bearing domed, silver trays. Seokmin takes off in a hurry for your assigned table in the far corner of the ballroom, so famished that he barely remembers to tug you along behind him.

Through the meal and all its complimentary wine pairings, you do your best to focus on the conversation. Seokmin introduced you to the few people sitting with you that you haven’t had the occasion to meet yet. While he does what comes naturally to him, charming them with ease, you struggle for the first time to pay attention to him.

A few tables over, Seonmi sits down with her fiancé, joining the company of her parents; Soyeon and her date are there, too, leaving Seokmin out by design. Like an insane person, you can only watch her, rather than Seokmin’s blatant theft of bites from your plate. She laughs at whatever jokes her mother cracks, but you’d recognize that look of veiled angst anywhere. She isn’t happy, you realize. You can’t avoid the feeling that you’re the reason why she isn’t.

Time passes, somehow too quickly and too slowly. The plates are emptied, then cleared away by the wait staff — except for your half-empty glass, which is your third. Much like the other guests at your table, the joyful buzz you’d been feeling so far leaves, too.

All that’s left is you, Seokmin, and that ominous, storm cloud you can’t seem to shake.

“You’ll probably feel better if you talk to her.”

He’s always more observant than you give him credit for. You snap out of your zoned-out stare across the room in order to look at him. You frown. “I doubt it. She already looks pissed. Me parading my presence here despite her isn’t going to help anything.”

“Bambi,” Seokmin sighs, not impatient but gentle. “She’s not exactly warm, but she has always liked you. There’s literally no reason why she wouldn’t be happy to see you —”

You open your mouth to argue.

“— that happened over twenty years ago, and you really need to stop feeling guilty about it —”

You close your mouth, cross your arms self-consciously, and sink in your seat. Despite yourself, you glance over at him and catch the way he’s looking at you. He doesn’t need to say the words out loud for you to hear them.

It’s either the unspoken dare, his reassuring, soft-eyed smile, or all the blasted merlot that does you in. You’re not sure which of the three was the coup de grâce, and as you slink off towards her table, you realize it doesn’t matter. For one reason or another, you’ve decided that fear isn’t going to get the better of you this time.

Seonmi somehow senses you coming. Even without the band underscoring your movement, your timid steps across the mahogany parquet should’ve been impossible for anyone to pick up on. 

Must be an older sister thing, you think, being doomed to keep a perpetual eye on others. 

She doesn’t say anything when you slip into the chair next to her, which doesn’t bode well but isn’t a deal breaker, in and of itself. The important thing is that she doesn’t get up to leave. You tell yourself that this is a good sign. The knot in your stomach begs to differ, however.

Say something.

Say anything.

“Everything’s… lovely, Seonmi, seriously.” You gesture around you, smiling, but she only gives you a cursory look. “You’ve really outdone yourself with this one.”

Seonmi takes a sip of her cocktail — something bitter, the petty voice in your head assumes — and lets the corner of her mouth rise slightly. If it’s the closest thing you’ll get to a smile, you’ll take it. She hasn’t granted you a proper one in the decades since you got gum in her favorite Barbie’s hair.

“Thanks, kid,” she sighs, setting the drink back down on her personalized, cardboard coaster.

You can’t remember the last time she called you “Bambi”, let alone your real name. Just like Seokmin, you’ve always been a child to her. Apparently, you always will be, no matter what you do.

Her grip around the glass remains rigid, not unlike her overall posture. Condensation weeps under and around her manicured fingers, uninhibited. You watch those droplets soak through the coaster’s design, darkening her parents’ initials and wedding date, while you mull over whose turn it is to talk.

Ultimately, as is usually the case, Seonmi makes this decision for you. Without so much as a glance at you out of the corner of her eye, she muses, “It was a lot of work, getting all the details ironed out.”

You pick up on the subtext immediately. One of those details would’ve been the guest list; another, the invitations. Seokmin assumed it was all an accident and said as much to you no fewer than a hundred times, but this little comment from his sister blows his assurances to smithereens. 

Your exclusion wasn’t an accident at all.

Suddenly, somehow, the room is twenty degrees colder. You shoot a panicked glance over to where Seokmin was just sitting, wanting nothing more than to slink back to his warmth with your tail between your legs; but he’s not where you left him. In fact, he’s nowhere to be found.

Fuck.

“Ah,” is the best you can do.

And then the two of you sit awkwardly in silence while the seconds age in dog years.

You should’ve brought a drink over with you so you’d have something to do with your hands. Or your phone — except you left it on its charger, you idiot — or a time machine, so you can revoke your bullshit decision to walk over here in the first —

“He deserves that, don’t you think?”

The combined suddenness of her voice and the switch in topics makes you jolt ever so slightly. You try to pass it off, to pretend that you’re simply adjusting the skirt of your dress, but your efforts go unnoticed. Seonmi is too busy pointing casually ahead, drawing your focus to the center of the dance floor.

Like absolutely no one else is watching, Mr. Lee twirls around his laughing wife, his heart-shaped smile beaming so brightly that it almost hurts your eyes. The love of his life has to hold one of her hands over her mouth to keep her laughter from bursting out; the other hand is raised with the rest of that arm, allowing her husband to spin himself underneath. When he’s halfway through, she surprises him, drops her arm down, and embraces him fully, giggling all the while.

It almost makes you tear up — Mr. Lee’s unabashed, silly love, and how much it reminds you of his spitting-image of a son; the way Seokmin’s mother’s eyes sparkle in the same blissful, radiant way his do. Maybe the same can’t be said for his older sisters, but it’s abundantly clear where Seokmin came from. It’s even clearer where he should end up.

“Yes,” you breathe, and it almost sounds like a laugh because of course, he does. Before you can stop yourself, you ask, “Is that really a question?”

No, you realize too late, it’s bait.

Without batting an eye, she counters, “Is it really so hard for you to let him have that?”

Seonmi turns her head to look you dead in the eye. Confusingly, despite her words, there’s nothing in her tone or gaze that reads like malice. If anything, the slight furrow of her brow shouts concern.

Your mind is spinning too fast to keep up with. Whatever her next move is, you’re too dizzy now to see it coming and too disoriented to follow it. With the knot in your stomach tightening further, you stammer, “Is — what?”

“God,” Seonmi drops her face into her hands. “You don’t get it, do you?”

A fish on dry land, all you seem to know how to do is open and close your mouth. You may not be literally flailing, but with the state your mind is in, you may as well start.

“Seokmin loves love.” 

She says each of these words slowly, like she’s trying to hammer each nail through a thick skull. 

“It’s the one thing he’s wanted most since he was a kid, yet I can count on one hand the number of short-term relationships he’s been in. He doesn’t ever bring anyone home to meet us; he doesn’t bring anyone to weddings, or parties, or holidays; he just brings you.”

Of course, you’ve been right there through all of his situationships. He’s always scant on details when they end — and you’ve never pressed for any — but you know better than anyone that nothing has stuck long-term. 

You’ve never thought about how odd this really is, but with Seonmi spelling it out for you now, you can’t come up with a single, good reason why someone as objectively incredible as Seokmin can’t make these things work — or why, even as you rack your brain, the only constant you can find in his life is you.

She glares now, as if she’s daring you to speak; as if you’ve got anything she’d deem worth adding. The bulldozer revs up again, whether you’re ready or not: “You’ve always been the only person he saves space for, whether or not there’s a place for you, and he has no room left in his life for someone to love him like that —” 

Seonmi points again to her parents, who are circling slowly on the dance floor, talking softly to one another. 

“So, what is it? Do you truly not see what he’s missing, or are you choosing not to because you like his attention?”

Your eyes burn with tears, but you can’t let them fall, and you can’t wrap your head around why that is. 

Who are you hiding them from: Seonmi or yourself?

The longer she stares at you, the muddier it gets. You don’t want her to be right. You don’t want to be the kind of person she’s describing; but there’s something awful whispering in the back of your mind, saying that you might be. 

You’ve left every relationship you’ve been in, telling everyone who asks in the aftermath that you like being on your own better. But that’s bullshit. It’s not your own company that you keep when you’re single; it Seokmin’s. 

He makes sure that you never spend a day feeling alone, that he’s always available over the phone in the rare times he’s not physically with you. As his best friend, he treats you better than every single one of your exes ever has. Like you’re worth more than anyone else will credit you.

What kind of friend are you if you feel relieved whenever his relationships expire?

Seonmi’s hand drops, landing half-heartedly clenched on the tabletop. Just the same, her voice drops until it’s almost a whisper. 

“I am begging you,” she pleads, eyes narrowing desperately as they search yours. “If you don’t want him, someone else will. Please just —  get the hell out of their way.”

By the time you reach the elevator, all you’re left with is a blur. You’ve already forgotten how the conversation ended, or which one of you was the first to get up. If she said anything else to you, it was drowned out by your own hammering pulse and a looping chorus of voices validating your biggest fear, stating in no uncertain terms that you don’t belong.

You’re shaking when you reach your floor. Heels clicking under unsteady footsteps, you make for room 218; and as you go, you shove your hand into the well-concealed pocket of your dress for the keycard Seokmin forgot to grab himself on the way out earlier.

He’s certainly not in the room when you finally step inside, although you have no clue where he’s gone. It’s for the best. The door closes behind you, and with no one to see it happen, you burst into tears.

All rational thought flies out the window, shaken off by the tornado of utter confusion tearing through your brain. You grab your suitcase, needing nothing more than to be anywhere else, and begin haphazardly throwing your things back inside of it.

Why did you still come with him, knowing it wouldn’t end well? It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve told him no; he would’ve listened if you truly meant it.

If you didn’t mean it when you initially tried to squirrel your way out of this, why not? Was it just your friend asking sincerely that won you over without a fight; or was it because you knew, deep down, it’d hurt to see him bring someone else?

Why would it hurt?

The answer to that will crack the foundation of everything the two of you have built, but only if you admit it to yourself. It can’t threaten you if you don’t say it out loud, don’t make it real.

So, you won’t. 

You’ll bury it deeply enough to forget about, repour the concrete, and tiptoe through the rest of your life with your best friend still at your side.

That is, if your friendship survives the weekend — rather, your sudden departure from it — at all.

“Halmoni, it’s time to go back to your hotel, okay?” 

He coos this, as if he’s pleading with a toddler at bedtime, because that’s exactly what it feels like to wrangle the drunk, 80-year-old clinging to his arm.

Physically, she needs to hold onto Seokmin to keep herself steady. Mentally, she’s ready to run and has made several attempts to do just that when she thinks his guard is down. It’s no wonder the hotel staff cornered him and begged him for help; she’s too wily for those who don’t know her.

The manager had at least done him the courtesy of hailing a cab. It sits out front, warm and waiting, while he shepherds his grandmother through the lobby.

“— and another thing!” She slurs.

There is never not another thing. She shouldn’t bother concluding her sentences in the first place; she’s never done talking.

“I told your sister — I said, Sunny —”

Seonmi, he dares to presume, although he doesn’t dare to correct her.

“— you can’t have stuff like this —” She gestures animatedly, albeit vaguely around her. “— in places like this and expect retirees to pay for it! I said — oh, what did I say? — Ah, I said, ‘find me the cheapest motel in the area, or I’ll be staying in your room with you’ —”

Her kitten heels hit the brick outside with an angry thwump.

Seokmin can’t help himself. “She didn’t go for that?”

“No!” His grandmother squawks. 

The driver sees the ball of a woman wobbling his way and quickly exits the cab, skirts around it, and flings the back door open for her. 

“I can’t imagine why, halmoni,” he lies through his teeth, which shine down on her in his best, least sincere smile. “You’re a blast in a glass.”

She roars with laughter, even while two grown adults work together to pour her into the backseat without bumping her head on the doorframe. “Glast in a blass!”

“Exactly. Can you —?”

He gives up before he finishes voicing his request; it’s no use. Instead, he bends down to hug her and finagles the buckle of her seatbelt while she’s too distracted to fight him off. That click is the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, after the clunk of the door shutting her in.

By the time Seokmin turns to the cab driver, his grandmother is fully slumped in her seat, pilled peacoat rising and falling with every wine-laced breath.

“I am so sorry.” He sighs, which devolves into a sheepish laugh, and fishes all of the cash out of his pocket. No tip could possibly cover the emotional toll of this ordeal, so he does his best and gives the driver everything he has.

The driver’s eyes widen. Seokmin gets the impression that he doesn’t quite understand the task he’s undertaking. 

Poor bastard.

Seokmin continues, “My grandfather is at the inn already; he didn’t feel well enough to come here, but he’ll be ready to get her inside once you drop her off.”

“Sounds easy enough.” The driver smiles and holds out his hand to shake. 

Seokmin reciprocates, and he declines to explain just how wrong that assessment is. He thanks the man and chirps a quick goodbye to his grandmother before rushing back inside.

Walking into the ballroom, he hopes to find you and Seonmi laughing about whatever misunderstanding had gotten in your way before. At the very least, he expects you to still be sitting next to each other at the same table. That would be good enough, he thinks; he could assist in repairing the situation from there.

The problem, it seems, is beyond his help. Neither one of you occupies the same table. If his quick scan tells him anything, you’re not even in the same room.

No matter which way he turns, he can’t spot you. His sister, on the other hand, is near the far corner, having what looks like a nightmarish conversation with their parents. There are approximately five billion things Seokmin would rather do than get in the middle of that, but you don’t have your phone on you, and he has no other way to find out where you went.

Above the heads of the two women, Seokmin’s father catches sight of his approach. They lock eyes; there’s something insane in his father’s gaze. The older man shakes his head, mouthing “no.”

Seokmin stops short, raises his hands with the palms up to get across his confusion, and mouths back, “Bambi?”

In response, his father extends a single finger and points upwards. He then makes a shooing motion with his hand. His wife and daughter are so engrossed in their argument that neither of them catches the pantomime or Seokmin’s quick exit, back the way he came.

On the elevator ride upstairs, Seokmin worries. The most likely explanation is that you went to find your phone so that you could find him – but you haven’t texted or called him in the time he’s been looking for you, so he supposes it isn’t likely after all. 

Maybe, he thinks, the wine caught up to you. You’re not as strong a drinker as you think you are. While he walks down the hallway to room 218, he steels himself. Even though you both hate it, he’s ready to hold your hair if he walks in and finds you with your head in the toilet. That dress looks too good on you not to be expensive; he’d rather talk you out of your embarrassment tomorrow than have you shell out for dry-cleaning.

You didn’t deadbolt the door behind you, which strikes him as odd. In fact, you didn’t even close it properly; it isn’t latched. All he has to do is tap on it for the door to open.

“Bambi?” He calls out before stepping inside entirely, thinking it’s only decent to confirm in advance that he’s not an intruder. “Sorry for disappearing. I had to pour my grandmother into a cab – it was exactly as awful as it sounds.”

The faint rustling sound he hears isn’t coming from the bathroom, which is both dark and unoccupied. Part of him wants to take this as a good sign, but the rest of him wonders if he’s walking in on a burglary. That flicker of fear is followed by a stupid sense of validation: 

You always laugh at him when he cites this as his reason for choosing the bed closest to the door; you claim it’s statistically unlikely. Finally being able to say “I told you so” after a robbery wouldn’t make either of your belongings magically reappear, of course. That said, it might make him feel a little better.

But the figure rooting through your suitcase isn’t a bandit at all. It’s you with your coat on.

“Um,” he starts, unintentionally startling you. “What is….” 

His question peters out when you look up at him. There are broken mascara tracks down your cheeks, as if you tried to wipe them off without actually looking at them. Above them, your wide eyes are wet, like you’re seconds away from crying all over again. Even worse, you’re trembling.

Seokmin’s only instinct is to reach for you. Before he can wrap his arms around you, you jerk away from him. “Please don’t.”

So, he stops, though he doesn’t understand why. This is quite literally the only time in your life that you’ve pushed him away.

“What’s going on?” Ideally, he’d project calm at a time like this. He just sounds desperate. “What happened with Seonmi?”

“She — um, she didn’t — It wasn’t that bad; I’m just… You know how sensitive I get when I drink wine.”

Like a switch flips, a half-hearted smile takes over the bottom half of your face. It’s not real; if it was, your eyes would light up and crinkle at the corners. Whatever that look is, it’s bullshit.

Seokmin gestures to your suitcase, where everything you brought with you has been unceremoniously shoved. “Sensitive enough to, what, run away? No. I’m not buying it. She said something — or did something — to make you this upset. Bambi, what happened?”

His urgency is selfish, he knows it. Seonmi’s always been way too intuitive for her own good. There’s no way she hasn’t noticed the way he looks at you when you aren’t looking; how god-awful he is at acting platonic.

He tries — has been trying, for a long time now — to shake these feelings off because he knows you’re not emotionally available. Because he knows who he’s supposed to be for you, and how devastating it would be if he threw your friendship away.

That devastation is right in front of him now; and it’ll  push you out of his life forever if he doesn’t shut it down. He has to get in front of it.

You strike first, though. “Seokmin, why didn’t you bring anyone else?”

There are two ways for him to interpret that question: with the emphasis on anyone, meaning not you; or as an escape route. For your sake, he chooses the latter.

“She gave me a plus-one, not a plus-two,” he says softly.

Despite his tone, it must hit you like a punch. You nod curtly, once. “Got it. Basic math. Thanks, Seokmin; that was never my strongest subject.”

Foot, meet mouth.

You immediately set back to work, reaching for the lid of your suitcase to close and zip. Before he thinks once, let alone twice, his hand darts out and flattens against the mesh inner pocket on the top, preventing you from doing so.

“No.” He shakes his head firmly. “Not happening.”

You don’t scowl at him the way he expects, nor do you even stop to look at him. It’s far worse than that; your eyes start swimming, focused helplessly on your suitcase. 

When you speak, your voice cracks. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place. I knew that this invitation shit wasn’t an accident; I knew I wasn’t welcome to —”

“— You came anyway.” Seokmin doesn’t mean to snap at you, but the point is moot. Softening at the edges, he quickly continues, “And I’m glad that you did because I don’t want to be here with ‘anyone else’.”

It’s not the whole truth, so it may as well be a lie. You know him too well for him to get away with it; it was stupid of him to try. Your head turns, and the slight narrow of your eyes says it all.

I triple-dog dare you to tell me the truth.

This fork in the road has two dead ends. His only options are to do just that or double down and lie straight to your face, while you see straight through him. Either option pulls the pin, he figures, so it’s no longer a question of who gets hurt; it’s who gets hurt worse.

Seokmin jumps on the grenade.

“I don’t want to be with anyone else!”

It comes out too loudly, startling you. In a way, it’s angry, too. He wishes could project that anger onto Seonmi for starting shit, as usual, but the person he’s maddest at is himself for putting you both in this position.

For the first time ever, he can’t decipher the expression on your face. He’d shove his foot into his mouth to try and keep himself quiet, but his adrenaline is firing on all cylinders, and he can’t seem to stop shouting.

“And I’m really fucking sorry to say it because I know you don’t want to hear it, not from me or anyone else. So, you can leave, alright? I’m not going to stop you.”

The force of the surprise almost knocks the air out of him, so quick that Seokmin can’t process what’s happening until his back is flush to the wall behind him — until your hands, flat against his white button-up, curl to grip the fabric, and you kiss him so hard that he sees stars.

You’re surprised too, it seems. When you pull away, chest heaving, you freeze in the same way he does. Eyes searching the other’s, unsure of what to do now that twenty-plus years’ worth of boundaries have been blown to bits.

You whisper, “Are you still sorry?”

Of the five million feelings swelling inside of him — fear, kind of; joy, yes; fucked up by your blown-out pupils, definitely — regret isn’t one of them.

Actually…

He cups your face in his hands like water from a spring, drinks down the sight of you in this new and perfect light. “I’m only sorry that it took me this long to tell you,” he confesses before kissing you back twice as hard.

You’d ask Seokmin to pinch you and prove to you that you’re not dreaming, but the fear you feel at the thought of waking up is too overwhelming. 

Even if it wasn’t, he can’t help you, can he? 

His hands are far too busy.

Your pretty dress is long gone now, having been shucked off and tossed somewhere out of sight. In its place, it’s Seokmin’s body that now drapes over yours, warm in touch and tone, like molten gold. 

His middle and marriage fingers curl inside you, working you up again; and all you can do is cling desperately to his hair, whimper, and wait for the fall.

“I take back what I said earlier,” he murmurs between nips and kisses at your neck.

You can’t ask him to elaborate. You’re too close to careening over the edge for the second time tonight; too busy babbling fucking nonsense.

His simper against your throat reverberates all the way down, lights up your every nerve in tandem like a switchboard. “Only an idiot would tell you to be less expressive.”

The pad of his thumb swirls over your clit; its movement synchronizes with his middle finger inside of you, targeting your weak spot. He presses down on that spongy patch of nerves, and your hips buck involuntarily, a hallmark of your body begging for you while your words fail.

“You were right, though.” 

You summon all your concentration. “I’m always right,” you counter. Seokmin pulls his mouth away from the underside of your jaw just to look at you pointedly. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

He picks up the pace of his ministrations, pulling no punches. You’re teetering on the ledge with no real ability to lift your own neck; your head crashes back against the pillow as you wail, clenching and gushing around his fingers.

“I do know how sensitive you get,” he snickers before slipping his fingers from you and sweeping down to kiss you sweetly.

The ringing in your ears has barely subsided, but you’ve decided not to take anymore of his teasing laying down. Slipping your fingers from his hair, you move your hands to his shoulders; and with whatever muscle control you still maintain, you flip him off of you, onto his back.

“How long —” 

You climb over his lap and straddle him, placing your palms flat against his chest. It’s as much a show of dominance as it is a carefully disguised trick for balance. 

“— have you been waiting to say that?”

Caught red handed, Seokmin shoots you that trademark, heart-shaped smile. His cheeks were already flushed from the effort he just expended on you; that perfect pink only deepens when he blushes and laughs, “What, you think I can’t come up with killer lines in the heat of the moment?”

You scratch your nails gently down the lines of his abdominal muscles. “Nope,” you purr.

Sitting up on his elbows, Seokmin tilts his head to the side and narrows his dark eyes at you. You’re nowhere near used to seeing him look at you like this, like you’re something to be devoured. The feeling of being wanted so badly makes your stomach flip.

“Give me some credit, won’t you?” He asks, voice low. “You’re a knockout; you’re naked in front of me for the first time; and it’s a miracle I can talk at all when I feel this concussed.”

When you lean in, he licks his lips expectantly. You’re close enough to kiss him, of course, but you stop a few millimeters shy of your mark and watch him fight the urge to pout. His eyes search yours, almost pleadingly.

“Is that why you’re still not naked?”

Seokmin’s next move is to reach for the black briefs he’s still got on, but you stop him, encircling each of his wrists with your hands.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you tut with a patronizing shake of your head. “You’re fired. I’m in control now.”

If the little sigh he lets out is any indication, he is very much on board with your self-promotion.

He takes your cue and reels himself in, allowing you to move further down his body, your fingertips hooking under his elastic waistband and tugging as you go. When his length finally springs free, you duck your head to take him into your mouth, beyond eager to feel his weight on your tongue.

“Oh, my god,” he groans, eyelids fluttering, while you swirl your tongue around his head. “Feels s-so —”

The rest of his sentence gets stuck in his throat; you take what you can of him down your own throat, working whatever remains with your hand. 

Seokmin wants so badly to watch, you know he does, but he’s sensitive, too. His head tips back, eyes closed and mouth hanging open.

It’s messy, the spit dribbling down your chin and the sound brought forth by the suction of your mouth around him. The obscenity of it all spurs you on. Nothing inspires you quite like Seokmin’s breathy whines and low moans, though. Above all else, it’s his reaction to you that slicks the inside of your thighs.

You’d give him the ending he deserves, right down the back of your throat, but you feel his fingertips graze your shoulder, beckoning you to look up at him.

Voice rough, he pleads, “Come here.”

With his steadying hands on you, you move back into your original position with your bent knees on either side of him. You immediately spot the indent his teeth have left on his lower lip, which is now slightly swollen. Delicately, you brush your thumb over the mark. “Oh, you’re a goner.”

Seokmin looks at you pointedly. Though you tease, you’re even worse off: drunk on the taste of him, as much as the sight of him underneath you, wanting you just as badly.

“Alright, alright,” you concede. “I am, too.” 

The hand you use to wave dismissively at him then reaches down between your thighs, fingers wrapping around his cock and lining it up with your entrance.

“But I’m taking you down with me.”

And you do.

So thoroughly that you barely recall him staggering off to the bathroom when all is said and done, the wash cloth he returns with to clean you up, or the way you slump into his waiting arms before promptly falling asleep.

You sleep so soundly, in fact, that you don’t stir when the sun blares through the open curtains. Likewise, when Seokmin carefully maneuvers himself out of the tangle of your limbs and places your head on a real pillow instead, you’re none the wiser.

What finally gets to you is the clatter of the expensive, hotel-issued shampoo clattering against the floor of the shower, echoing off the tile like a sonic boom. You sit bolt upright in bed, staring bleary-eyed in the direction of the bathroom. 

As if on cue, Seokmin pokes his head out of the doorway to see if you managed to sleep through the noise. Damp hair splays over his forehead, hanging just as loosely as his lazily-knotted bathrobe. If you weren’t still too sleepy to function, you’d love nothing more than to grab him by that tie and drag him back to bed.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Bambi,” he coos, though his mouth is full of both toothpaste and a toothbrush in a distinctly greener shade of blue than usual.

You merely point at his mouth with a half-powered look of distress, otherwise unable to put your suspicion into words. He doesn’t get it; he glances down at his chest, looking for what he assumes is a stray glob of paste.

When you finally do speak, it’s a prayer: “Please tell me that’s not mine.”

Seokmin blinks at you, then down his nose at the toothbrush he’s using. He cocks his head to the side, opens his mouth to assure you it isn’t, and finally, when the realization makes his eyes widen, he groans.

You wail, “Noooooo!”

Memories of your last trip together clash before your mind — specifically, attempting to navigate a drug store in a foreign language while you shopped for the replacement toothbrush Seokmin is currently holding.

Ears bright red with embarrassment, he ducks back into the bathroom. Immediately, you hear a rush of water from the tap, which nearly drowns out his feeble cry of “I’m sorry!”

“I know it’s an honest mistake, but how do you make it twice?” 

You collapse back onto the pillows and bury your face in your palms; and you stay that way, even when you hear him padding softly over to you. The mattress shifts under his weight as he makes his way, one knee at a time, until you feel him looming over you. His hands reach out and gently pull yours from your face.

Before you can get any ideas, Seokmin flattens himself on top of you; a weighted blanket, smelling like vanilla and spearmint. He folds his arms across your chest and props his chin up on the top of his right wrist, bright eyes sparkling as he peers up at you.

Suddenly, you find it very difficult to be annoyed with him. The worst part is that none of this is by design. He always just looks at you this way, not to get out of trouble but because you’re you.

Your hand reaches out of its own accord and brushes the remaining damp strands off his forehead. When your touch lingers, Seokmin leans into it, warming your palm with his cheek.

“Hey,” you say, after failing to come up with anything better.

He beams. “Hi.”

“Why are we awake at this hour?”

That smile of his evaporates slowly, giving way to a grimace you’ve seen before. “Seungcheol and Mingyu want to meet up at the ski lodge before the post-brunch crowd gets there,” he explains. “And I told my parents we’d get breakfast with them first, since yesterday was… well, mostly a disaster.”

“And it will conveniently provide you with time to think of a way out of snowboarding?” You chuckle quietly and pat his cheek.

Seokmin shakes his head firmly, then stretches his neck enough to kiss you.

“No,” he mumbles defiantly against your lips. “I never back down from a triple-dog dare.”

[solarsturniolo]

ik you've been critical of the triplets before (breath of fresh fucking air tbh)

wanted to know what you thought about the whole mallory situation? she made a tiktok saying she was concerned about their physically aggressive behavior and how she didn't think it was right that they would act like that, and they responded to her tiktok in a friday video. idk i certainly have thoughts but i wanna hear yours if you're ok with sharing them

Oh i was waiting for this one.

To start, THIS IS NOT A HATE POST. But it is something that needs to be said. I’d also like to clarify that i’m not trying to ‘clock’ anyone in this post. This is not meant to spiral out into another episode from them or their fans, but if they aren’t going to be good role models for young impressionable children, I will.

First and foremost, absolutely nothing about the way matt reacted in that video was okay. He is 21 years old, he is a grown adult that pays bills and taxes. He should not be laying his hands on anyone in an aggressive matter, even if they are just brothers. Whether you agree or not, that was abuse. Here is the Oxford dictionary definition of the word abuse, for those of you who need clarification.

Now of course, including content like that in a video is an option. And it was an option that they decided to take. Nick DID NOT have to leave that in the video, and if he hadn’t it wouldn’t have caused so many issues. What gets me the most is that some part of him KNEW it was too much because he edited half of that moment OUT of the video. We saw the extended clip through their photodump that shows just how obnoxiously aggressive Matt’s tantrum was. Not only did he hit Nick (quite hard and in a very vulnerable spot), but he also took a gift that Nick had gotten (gag gift or not, it doesn’t matter) he threw it onto the ground and told him to go and pick it up. The average person knows better than to behave that way, and it was very alarming to see that behavior from someone that we all look up to.

This led to a large divide in the fandom. Some people were (understandably) very uncomfortable with Matt’s behavior. And some people defended it with their lives. Now i’m not saying me and my sisters never fought, but we don’t lay our hands on each other. Idk maybe im out of touch with some new-found sibling abuse agreement or something, but we don’t hit each other. We argue, we get mad at each other, we fight and we make up.

Personally, i don’t think there’s anything wrong with calling out your idols when they do something wrong. At the end of the day, we’re all human and we all make mistakes. It’s easy to forget that when you let fame and money get to your head, making you feel invincible because you know your bandwagon of 13 year olds are going to be at your every beck and call. It’s our job as supporters to remind them that mistakes are okay, but accountability still needs to be taken for actions like that.

When you are in a position where you pay your bills by posting your private life on the internet, you cannot get angry that people are going to have comments and opinions about the stuff that you post on the internet…Nick made a comment in yesterdays video about how people need to mind their own business, but…you…willingly posted…that clip to the internet. For millions of people to see. Nick did not have a gun to his head while editing that video, he did not need to include it but it was a decision that he made.

One reason why i don’t watch them anymore is because they refuse to take accountability for anything that they do. They have also been drawing this out much longer than they needed to. The fanbase would’ve talked about it for a week and forgotten about it with the next friday video. The only reason why it’s still getting attention is because they so badly want to seem ‘unbothered’ by it but they keep bringing it up in everything they do. Matt’s instagram story, his comment on Nick’s recent post, their recent tiktok…literally anything that they have posted in the past week and a half, Matt and Nick just CANNOT HELP THEMSELVES from making a snarky comment. It’s a very icky trait to have imo but i’ll keep my mouth shut on that (since it’s illegal to have opinions in this fandom.)

Personally, I think Mallory was valid in her opinion and responses. Maybe terrifying was a strong word to use, which she has addressed, but it’s not like the boys don’t use hyperboles ALL THE TIME. And nothing about her video was her trying to “cancel the triplets”, she was simply sharing her concerns with Matt’s behavior.

The fanbase LOVESSSS to jump to conclusions. Most of us that had an issue with Matt’s behavior were not trying to cancel them. We’re frustrated because they’re grown adults who refuse to take any constructive criticism or accountability. I’ve said it before and i’ll say it again, the boys dislike ANYONE who is NOT AN ENABLER. Especially Nick. They LOVE an enabler that doesn’t call them out on their crappy behavior.

Back to yesterday’s video, I was VERY unimpressed with their responses. Snarky comment after snarky comment, only proving more and more that they aren’t unbothered by the situation because they’re trying so hard to prove a point. Why not stay silent like you do with everything else? Your ‘friend’ (who you still communicate with but won’t publicly hang out with) who was cancelled for contacting minors? Didn’t have much to say about that did you? But the second something makes them look bad, they jump the gun and go right into defense mode. It’s so funny to me because people would respect them so much more if they just took some accountability, reflected on their actions, and made a change to their behavior.

Including her tiktok in their video was yet another choice they made, and it was a very immature one. You cannot tell me they didn’t think about the outcome of this situation. Singling out ONE PERSON’S VIDEO, putting a target on their back, and opening the gates for these 13-15 year old hellspawn brainwashed sturniolo cult fans to go and cyberbully someone for having an opinion (and a respectful one at that.)

Also trying to blame Chris and saying Matt was ‘provoked’ into hitting Nick???? Chris made a simple comment??? And this is NOT the first time Matt has gone overboard in a reaction he’s had to one of his brothers. He’s had many outbursts, all of which ARE concerning. Throwing things aggressively, hitting, punching, cussing your brothers out on camera…it’s fucking humiliating???? I am so sorry to break it to you all but nothing about that interaction was Chris’s fault AT ALL. So for Nick to pin it on his younger brother, i found it absolutely ridiculous.

And, to sum it up, Nick did not ‘clock her’. I’m sorry but his responses when people call him out always remind me of a middle schooler. He refuses to take any accountability. HE edited the video. HE kept the clip in. HE posted the full clip on their instagram. NICK STURNIOLO DID THAT. HE DID NOT HAVE TO DO THAT.

Can’t wait for reacting to hate comments part 2!!! Because, let’s face it! This isn’t hate, it’s the truth. I’m not an enabler and apparently that makes me a hater.

And yes, they over-do the drama for our entertainment, but they’re so much more entertaining when they’re all getting along?! Even if they have an argument, it’s far more entertaining when they aren’t hitting and kicking and punching. I genuinely think their emphasis on the physical aspects of their videos came straight from the tea party video, because it’s just gotten worse and worse since then.

I haven’t watched them in months and decided to watch that video and it was a clear reminder as to why i don’t watch them anymore. This is not a hate post, i will always be grateful for their videos because they’ve gotten me through some of the darkest moments of my life. From abusive relationships, to losing a loved one to suicide, to the loss of a childhood pet, to losing my job, to trying to take my own life…I am beyond grateful for their videos and I always will be. That being said, i think they have some serious maturing and reflecting to do if they want to continue to grow at the speed they were growing at a year or two ago.

Yes i think Matt is a sweet guy. No i don’t think he meant anything serious by hitting nick. The point is that it does make some of us uncomfortable to see that behavior from a grown man because so many of us have experienced abuse. I’m not saying we’re weak or snowflakes for our responses either. Posting your outbursts on the internet for 6-7 million people to see is a choice, and you cannot expect it to come without consequences.

[claiestve]

hey pookie 😽

could i request an isaac fic where he takes pickle to the japanese countryside (maybe to meet his mother’s parents or smth)?

ILY CLAI YOUR WRITING IS AMAZING IDK WHAT YOU SAY

𝐕𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐭 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠 ꨄ Isaac

˜”* ❝𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 ����𝙨 𝙖 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞��𝙜.❞

⎯⎯ ୨ ୧ ⎯⎯

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ɪꜱᴀᴀᴄ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴊᴀᴘᴀɴ.

⎯୨⎯ " " ⎯୧⎯

“It’s pretty, right?”

Your husband asked, searching your face for approval. He got so much more than that. As you looked at the waterfall before you, your face was plastered in awe. You wondered why Isaac wanted to show you this place but now you figured why. 

You tried to respond, but the beauty of it all left you speechless, your words lost to the force of nature before you. The cool mist on your face felt like a gentle embrace as if the waterfall was sharing its secret with you—something ancient and serene. 

Isaac smiled softly, watching you. “I knew you’d like it,” he murmured, his voice barely rising above the sound of the water. He stepped closer, his hand finding yours, grounding you in the present, in this moment.

You squeezed his hand, finally finding your voice. “It’s... incredible. I—I don’t even have words for this.”

He chuckled, and for a moment, everything else faded away. It was just the two of you, standing there in the silence of the world’s wonder, connected by more than just the view, but by the shared stillness of the moment.

“I was hoping you’d like this place so we could come out here during the summer,” Isaac said, his tone quieter now, almost contemplative.

“Hm? Why the summer?” You looked up at him, your curiosity piqued.

Isaac glanced down at you, his expression softening. “It was a bit of a family tradition,” he said slowly. “My mom’s side, they live just a few hours away. I haven’t seen them in... well, it’s been almost 18 years.” His voice caught, just a fraction, as the weight of those years settled. “I used to come out here with them when I was a kid. My grandmother would bring us every summer—she used to say the falls had magic in them, said they could ‘heal’ you.”

You could hear the nostalgia in his voice, the longing for a piece of his past. “I’ve wanted to bring you here for a while. I guess... I guess I’ve been putting it off. But now, seeing it with you—it feels like it’s finally the right time.”

You looked at him, sensing the deeper layers of his words. The falls weren’t just a pretty place to him—they were part of his history, part of a family he’d lost touch with. You’d known about his mother’s side of the family, of course, but hearing him say it out loud made it real in a way it hadn’t been before.

“Do they still live out here? I’d love to meet them.” You smiled at him, trying to heal his inner child who wanted to relive that peace. 

Isaac hesitated for a moment, his gaze drifting to the waterfall again as if the answer might be hidden there in the water.

“They do,” he started, “My aunt and uncle live about an hour away, and my grandmother’s old house is still standing, though... it’s not the same anymore.” His voice faltered momentarily, and you could feel the weight of the years pressing down on him, like old memories rising to the surface.

“I haven’t been back since the last time I saw them,” he continued, the words coming more like a confession. “I was just a kid when we... lost touch. The murders– it all fell apart so quickly. And I guess I just... let it slip away. Didn’t know how to get back, didn’t know how to face them again.”

“Hey,” You offered your eyes as a ladder to freedom, “We don’t have to visit if you don’t want to. If you’re not ready, we don’t have to, okay?” 

Isaac’s breathing started to slow down as he looked at you again. As if you were a type of stress relief. Your presence gave him the space he needed to feel less afraid.

“I know…” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “It’s just– I never thought I’d go back. I was so… angry, for so long. And now, it feels like… I don’t know, like I’m standing on the edge of something I’m not sure I’m ready to jump into.”

You stepped closer, your hand finding its way to his chest, just over his heart. "You don't have to jump, Isaac. You can just dip your toes in, and see how it feels. And if it's too much, we leave. But we're in this together, okay?" 

Isaac leaned down and kissed the top of your head, a gesture that spoke volumes without needing to say another word. 

"Maybe... we’ll try the summer," Isaac said quietly, lifting his head to look at you with a mix of resolve and relief. "One step at a time."

You nodded, a feeling of peace washing over you as if everything had aligned just right.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

first of all, immediate yes. i luv this idea so bad

also, im fully convinced if we keep writing isaac fics he might find the keys to the dungeon and escape.

ty for requesting kieran, ilyt

[wisteria-lodge]

What do you think a wizarding wedding would look like, and what do you think Lucius' and Narcissa's specifically looked like?

The book does show us Fleur and Bill's wedding, but that was a wartime shotgun-ish wedding in the peripherals of the story's focus. I'm also not ever sure how much of the details there are things joanne really thought about and decided to include in her representation of a Magical wedding, and how much of it are just modern social customs she might have considered the forever universal default and put in the book.

Narcissa and Lucius also seem to be the rare fictional couple who'd actually enjoy all the pedantry and tradition and specificities in a wedding to me. Seeing as you're writing a fic with them in it, I thought you'd probably already thought about this aspect of worldbuilding/character writing, so I hope you don't mind me asking abt it. Thanks and have a great day!!

Okay, I love this ask, and I'm going to lay it all out, but first I want to lay out my Reasoning.

Here are my rules, when it comes to expanding on/filling in the Harry Potter world building:

ONE: If we’re dealing with any sort of political or social structure, my reference is England, year 1700. 

This does make sense with the backstory we get: the Wizarding World split away from the Muggle world in the late 1600s, wizards live a really long time, and wizards also didn’t need an industrial revolution (because magic filled the place of tech) so they wouldn’t have gotten any of the social changes that happened because of the industrial revolution. 

Also, this particular time period generally fits with what we see on the page. Education, politics, the police force, mental health care - it all seems to work in a very 1700s way. We don’t have any electricity, there’s no industrialization. (Like, Umbridge’s pamphlets are made by hand. I mean obviously they’re made by magic, but an individual’s magic, they’re not assembled in a magical factory.) So when Draco brings up a “museum”...  it makes sense to me that he’s not not thinking of a modern museum with a ticketing department running off grants and public funding, full of typed-out little plaques written by scientists and historians, telling you the provenance of whatever you’re looking at. If we went to a museum in Wizarding World, I would expect the type of museum you saw in 1700: a cabinet of curiosities assembled by one single wealthy collector, arranged in some eccentric way, handwritten labels or no labels at all, very probably in a wing of a private house. That feels correct and in-universe to me. So… whenever someone asks me something like ‘how do taxes work in the Harry Potter universe,’ I take 1700 England as a starting place, and go from there. 

TWO: If we’re dealing with aesthetic details or inventions, I draw from England 1700 - 1880

There isn’t much that’s Victorian in the world building… but there’s plenty in the set dressing. We see lots of 1800s fashion: women wearing hats with birds and flowers on them, men wearing bowler hats and top hats. There are 1800s hedge mazes, most of the holiday decorations are from the late 1800s, we’ve got radios and trains… and I’m completely fine with all that. It seems to me that if you’re a wizard walking through the Muggle world, it’s a lot easier to see someone wearing a cool hat, and say ‘I would like a hat like that’  - versus walking around and picking up the concept of, idk unions. So cameras are okay: they’re 1800s. Note that Rita Skeeter’s photographer Bozo has a magical version of a 1850s camera

while Muggle born Colin Creevey has… a modded 1930s camera? To communicate that he’s got a foot in both worlds. 

My point is, if you saw someone riding a bicycle in Harry Potter, you would assume they brought it in from the Muggle world. Bicycles showed up in England in the 1880s, so that’s slightly too late. It’s important to the feel of the world to keep up a good chunk of separation between the aesthetics of the Wizarding World, and the aesthetics of the muggle world.

THREE: Gender politics/gendered customs basically don’t exist

This is one of the things that makes Harry Potter a J. K. Rowling fantasy world. Obviously, JKR the person has a lot to unpack about gender politics, and there are all kinds of Doylist differences between the way male and female characters are treated in the Harry Potter books. But in universe, there is no Watsonian benefit to being a guy or being a girl in any particular situation. We get gendered bathrooms (although the prefects’ bathroom and the locker rooms seem co-ed), gendered fashions, gendered dorms… and that’s basically it.  

Of course there are some very old and baked in gendered things I doubt JKR even thought about… a woman taking her husband’s last name for instance. (Honestly - I would have loved a posh doubled-barreled name for Draco. Draco Malfoy-Black sounds quite sharp and public schooly.) There’s a thing where Dumbledore mentions that the Blacks prefer it when a guy inherits… but in the same breath, he’s completely convinced Bellatrix is about to inherit, so clearly that isn’t that important.

The only other example I can think of is the way we’re told the unicorns prefer the female students. But, the boys in Professor Grubbly-Plank’s class unanimously think this is bullshit, and I would argue that the framing of the book supports this read. We haven’t seen magic work like this before, so did Professor G-P get it wrong? And/or just doesn’t want to deal with the boys? Presumably this is why we are happy Hagrid is coming back

FOUR: There is basically no organized religion/spirituality in the Wizarding World. 

The narrative does a lot of work to not tell us who the random officiant at Dumbledore's funeral and Bill and Fleur‘s wedding is. Who is he? Who does he represent? How do you find him? How does he have authority to do this? Not important, doesn’t matter, keep moving along. We are definitely in a world where there is a holiday named Christmas… but it’s like the women taking their husband's name thing, that seems too baked into JKR’s worldview to question. But there is no mention of any religious dimension, it’s just presents and feasts and balls. 

If I’m writing something that’s interested in what these guys consider to be the sacred underpinnings of their world (like something focusing on a wedding, for instance…) then I think I would end up expanding on important magical rituals. I’m thinking Fidelius, Unbreakable Vow, sacrificial magic. Not for nothing, but considering how much importance the moment where Severus and Narcissa make an Unbreakable Vow is given by both the narrative and the characters… it feels more like a wedding than the wedding does, and I’m not even a Severus/Narcissa shipper. 

*

So when it comes to weddings… I’ve honestly found it uniquely difficult to research the history there, because a lot of people are very motivated to suggest that every wedding tradition has some deep, meaningful ancient origin - or that it was just kind of always that way. Take the concept of a “best man” and the term “best man" for instance. That starts showing up in the 1780s (so it’s a social custom that doesn’t make my 1700 deadline.) Harry is of course filtering everything through his POV, but if I were writing a wedding thing, I’d want to say that Sirius is filling a different position. Like “godfather” seems a very legally important role in the wizarding society, so lean into that.  Maybe the “best man” equivalent at a wizard wedding is the person who you’ve picked to get custody of your kids if you die. 

We also see things like white wedding dresses and matching bridesmaid dresses being treated as an absolute given at Fleur’s wedding, when both of those things pretty much only exist because Queen Victoria did them in 1840. One interesting thing is that JKR doesn’t seem to do an exchange of rings, and she’s changed up the vows to make it more reminiscent of (I think) a handfasting ceremony? Which is fine, I can work with that. (Also rings are just treated very negatively across the board in the Harry Potter books. No idea why.)

But, in-universe, the Bill/Fleur wedding is really hard to use as a model for what a typical pureblood Wizarding wedding looks like. For all the reasons Anon mentions: It’s war time, it was put together very quickly, Harry is not paying the most attention, we don’t get to see the whole thing. I would also add in the fact that the Weasleys are political radicals, and at that point especially would be very politically motivated to have a wedding that looks more Muggle. 

Okay.  If I were writing a pureblood wedding… like Lucius and Narcissa’s wedding… what would I do.

First, I don’t think I want a typical wedding from the year 1700. I want 1700 does renaissance/medieval. (Kind of Sir Walter Scott.) I like this because it brings in/explains the Merlin thing - the purebloods all use ‘Merlin’ as an oath, so I guess Merlin (and Arthur, and that kind of romanticized middle ages) is important to them culturally. Also, medieval influences are going to make your wedding feel impressive and established… which is exactly what the Malfoys are after. Make sure everyone knows what an old family they are. All these pureblood families have crests, so put them everywhere, front and center. The decorations should be banners and flags with the crests of everyone attending, no florals.

I also love the idea of fossilized fashions, old-fashioned clothes that don’t come out except during a very ceremonial, traditional occasion. (Think of the ways that veils used to be a pretty normal part of a lady's wardrobe, but now you only see them during weddings.) I’d have it so that during a wizard wedding… all the ladies bring out their long, draping, evil enchantress sleeves and the guys are supposed to wear half-capes and swords. It’s also a good excuse to bring out all the really old family jewelry, of which I am sure the Malfoys have buckets.

I also want this to be a very magical wedding. Like, there are parts of it you straight-up could not participate in as muggle, because I think (sadly) that would be the vibe during the timeline of the main books. Weddings are for showing off, and part of that would be showing off your magical prowess. I’m thinking - light the dance floor on fire before the first dance, and then the couple has to perform a Flame Freezing charm. This tradition started as a screw-you to the Muggles after the witch trials… but now everybody just kinda does it because it looks really cool when the newlyweds dance on a bed of flame. Oh, and we’re definitely doing medieval-style palm-touching dances. No waltzing for the first dance at a traditional Malfoy wedding.

And they’ll go all out for the wedding feast, which will be long. The 1700s and middle ages were both really into food that did stuff - food that transformed, or food that looked like other food, or food that had birds flying out of it. So  just lean into that times a million with magic.

I am also such a sucker for slightly sentient magical houses, and Harry Potter absolutely has some of that, with the way Hogwarts (the building) has various ways to fight back against enemies and infiltrators. So I think a Malfoy wedding would definitely be taking place at Malfoy Manor, and that the house itself would be a part of the proceedings in some way. Like it’s got to accept the new family member (we know, from little moments like Umbridge being barred from Dumbledore‘s office… that sometimes magical buildings just reject you.) Integrating a new person into the new space would be a multi-step process. Maybe there’s a ceremony where they present the new person with the family spell books, and another one where they present them with keys to various parts of the house, etc.

You could tie this in with the idea of a bedding ceremony (which also hits my medieval + 1700s markers.) Maybe the house changes in some way when the couple first sleeps together, like it redecorates with the belongings of the person moving in, or grows them a rose garden or observatory so they feel more at home. I bet it’s fun for the guests to stick around and watch this change happen. (A trope like this might be especially fun in an arranged marriage or marriage-law type story.)

I’m thinking this would also be a very long wedding, and the wedding party is probably staying at the house for a week or so beforehand. That’s part of the flex, the family’s ability to adequately pay host to so many people for such a long period of time. Like that’s what a house like Malfoy Manor is for, there’s a reason those places were functionally small hotels. If at the end my old-school pureblood wedding feels like a modern muggle wedding... I don’t think I’ve done my job. A Muggleborn who’s been invited ought to have culture shock.

And yes. It goes without saying that Lucius and Narcissa would have eaten up all this pomp and circumstance, with a spoon.

[velisle]

@drachonia come get your cherry boy!!

he was so cute in the SE >_<

[batcasscainman]

I’m going to expand on something I said in a different post. It’s the one about how I think Bruce and Oliver are best friends…

I said how Oliver and Cassandra were the only ones to not have a choice when it came to their training. I still think this is true but I may add Damian and maybe Roy in with them.

This isn’t saying the others chose their traumas, I’m just saying they decided to train and become heroes/vigilantes.

For example Bruce’s parents died and he decided to go around the world to train.

But Oliver was shipwrecked. It wasn’t his decision to start training, he had to so he would survive. The comics and show are different but have the same premises, if he didn’t do the things he did he would have died.

When they got back they both CHOSE to be heroes/vigilantes. Bruce had already decided it a long time ago and Oliver had the list (show) or saw that his abilities could help and decided to do something (comics).

So in NO way am I saying they chose their traumas, but they did chose to become heroes/vigilantes.

I don’t know much about Damian but I think he didn’t choose to train. Of course, I think, he wanted to, but he would have been forced to anyways.

I know next to nothing about Roy so idk if he wanted the people to train his in archery and marksmanship or not so do with that what you will.

But if Oliver didn’t train he would have died. If Cassandra didn’t train she would have been killed.

Of course, Cassandra didn’t know it wasn’t normal and she couldn’t communicate even if she didn’t want to, but she was still forced. They were the only ones (I think) that had absolutely no choice except to train or they would die.

Also, in the comics (Green Arrow Year One), Oliver saves a bunch of slaves from China White, I think. He found his old ship and could have escaped but chose to save the people instead. I’m not saying he didn’t have a choice for that, I’m saying he had to learn archery to survive.

Please comment your thoughts!

[glossypolaroidkisses]

hi my love!! im excited to see what ur blog will contain hehe omg im so ecstatic that u commented that ur interested in the whole right brained reader thing hehe i js want to know ur thoughts on the relationship dynamic of having a more humanitarian reader who likes english, arts everything that's quite opposite to what luigi is like!!

hihi!! omg I’m SO excited too!! i already feel so welcomed!! ok this is so fun, buckle in!! bear with me!!

since luigi seems to be so analytical and anal with his thought processes (like you mentioned), i can see him pre-relationship being a bit skeptical while getting to know you; just because that’s not how his brain works. at the start he’d ask you so many questions. you’d have so many conversations that would give him better insight into your mind, to make sure you’re not just in la la land all the time. it’s giving, waiting for 3rd or 4th date to talk politics?… no. 1st date we’re talking about thoughts on religion, the afterlife, etc.

also, that’s not an insult to right brained/artistic ppl, I’m one of them (if you couldn’t tell lol)! i’ve been perceived as dumb(er than others) because I’m so driven by creativity, english and the arts (NOT scientific or mathematical at all). It's only once someone gets to know me better, that they learn how intelligent I am. right brain thinkers are more likely to be dismissed or overlooked, imo!

someone like luigi may not have been too surrounded by many right brain thinkers let alone dated them, and he would be so curious about what goes on in your mind.

obviously, you do develop a relationship and the dynamic would be adorable. you balance each other out! there may be some minor situations and misunderstandings where his strict, logical, rational self isn’t sure where you’re coming from; but he always listens to you explain your POV, and does come around to understand it. he’s very open minded, esp when it comes to you!

he loves your brain. i mean, he’s so fascinated by it. you find art, beauty, creativity and meaning in things that he could’ve never perceived in such a way. both of your brains work in different ways that are both so important.

whether you come to him about a situation all pouty, or do the opposite, acting stubborn and silent about it until he picks up on your mood shift, coming over to help you.. he’ll have a solution. he’d drop anything to brainstorm a way to help you solve your problems. for luigi, because of his logical problem solving, the solution is usually simple for him to come up with. but then you’re standing there with stars in your eyes like ‘wow luigi😍❤️ i would’ve never come up with that🤩 thank you so much😩’ and he’s just there, giddy, bc you make him feel so smart and useful. he’s so happy when he can help you in any way.

there will probably be a lot of funny moments trying to make decisions together. you might want to decide based on gut feeling, or your emotions, but he’ll be so analytical; thinking of every detail. for example, buying furniture together. you might be like “omg! this couch is such a cute colour, matches the vibe of our apartment and it feels so soft!” and luigi would be like “uhm… yeah! cute! but… (pulls out tape measure) it isn’t the correct dimensions, the fabric isn’t stain resistant, the cushion covers aren’t removable, and it isn’t well reviewed online….😅🥸”

if he’s not with you, he’ll take photos of things he sees while out-and-about, maybe exploring, and send them to you. or!!! when he comes home, he’ll be all excited to show you stuff he took pictures of, wondering what your perspective on it would be, how you would interpret it. he’ll go through the pictures with you and just listen to you gush over something artsy or interpretive, like if he saw graffiti he thought you’d find cool, a quote from a book or painting at a museum. idk!

if he goes book shopping for his own yk NON fiction books, he’ll always come back with a book or two for you. he’ll get home, probably make some sort of joke like “i just chose the book that had the most colourful cover”, when in reality he spent time at the bookstore looking through the books, reading so many back covers to choose one that he knows you’ll genuinely enjoy. or, he’ll just buy a book he remembers you mentioning you wanted in passing. even if he wouldn’t enjoy reading it, he enjoys knowing it brings you joy. and if you talk to him about a book you’re reading/read, he’ll listen as if it’s his favourite genre.

me personally, idk if it’s the eldest daughter in me, but i LOVE being taken care of + i think he’d enjoy feeling helpful. like if i was drawing on an app on my ipad and it crashed or something, i’d go running to him for help.. with anything technology related (even if i had an idea of how i could fix it myself) like heyyy my lil compsci problem solver.. help pls😇

overall, i think this dynamic is so sweet as long as you can both embrace each others differences and find that harmony. he would add more structure to your life while appreciating your perspective, and you’d add more spontaneity, empathy & creativity to his!

also idk if i touched enough on this, but this dynamic is literally a humanitarian power couple. like fighting for what’s right, with his brain and your heart!! best of both worlds for a well rounded perspective!! mwhahaha

thank you so much for submitting that! oh my god that was so much fun I’m not insane i promise (maybe a lil hehehe) it is literally 7 am i am going to sleep now. i just started responding to that ask and couldn’t stop. aaa love it!!

i hope you liked it!! don’t be afraid to give feedback, anyone! i loooovee requests like these!! keep em coming!! mwah

[ssruis]

silly thought but i kinda wanna see a scene where rui is being pressured (it doesnt work but people try) by school/etc to go into tech and go to like a super prestigious tech uni (like a foreign one, like MIT good you know?) and hes having to sorta deal with it and feel annoyed/kinda sucky (he'd never doubt his dreams tho so he wouldnt be torn up or anything), people telling him hes a waste of a genius etc etc, and then saki tells him how when she was in hospital the doctors were obvs important but she would have never gotten through it without tsukasa's shows and idk the importance of the arts and making people smile and how thats just as important as any scientific discoveries or whatever he could make, bc his shows are important and yeah

this sounds super anti science im actually a stem major i just kinda want saki to preach ab how imporaant theatre was to her mental health as a kid etc etc and i want some cute saki and rui moments

ok byee

I see I see… I like that idea… Rui has always been uncompromising in what he wants to do (to the point where this image comes to mind)

but I think hearing that shows and the joy they can bring (art) is just as important as scientific contributions (stem) would be encouraging for him if he was repeatedly confronted by “you’re wasting your intelligence/skillset” people. And I think saki could definitely speak on that given her experiences.

This could go hand in hand with an event where rui challenges saki’s “my illness is a burden I have to make up for” mindset because colopale won’t let her friends or her brother do that in a meaningful way (gritting my teeth so hard they crack) so why not just throw Rui “I <3 giving people wise but unsolicited advice” Kamishiro at the problem.

[lunar-solarsystem]

one last quick thing before i go to bed:

so in my au, Lose Clarity, i’ve decided that V3 and V4 Eclipse would have 4 arms. Because of canon events (both in show and in au) with Eclipse bringing Solar back, we know he wanted Solar to feel ‘inferior’

so i thought of something

[lamentedwaters]

Happy to be included!

Beginning of the year stats:

Age: 16 (turning 17 next month)

Height: around 6’1

Grade: idk how college grades in uk compare to USA but I am in my first year of college!

Confidence: honestly, I’d say it’s a 5 or 6, but here I feel a little bit more confident interacting with others and sharing my thoughts and opinions!

Happiness: I like to be an optimistic person, even if sometimes I get a little down, 7/10

Gender: cisgender male

Sexuality: bisexual

Romantic: same ig? Lol

Favourite foods; love me some good chicken, but been losing weight recently so i don’t have certain things as frequent.

Favourite show: Hm. Gumball. Wacky as fuck and a big part of my childhood.

Favourite movie: it feels impossible to choose so I’ll go off current, Wicked!!

Favourite song: again, really hard to choose. But anything by Juice WRLD currently (maybe his newest songs like Party by Myself or Floor it)

Favourite artist: (if we’re talking musicians), Juice WRLD, Weird al and any others I can’t think of rn

Relationship status: single, and I’m alright with that. Just have to go with the flow

Favourite colour: literally so many shades of blue why is blue so awesome

Favourite season: winter. Despite the coldness, it’s just got a sense of nostalgia and ironically, warmth to it

Followers: 6! (Pretty good for my first few days, thanks guys!)

@quackerzzz @mikeydoesthings @eurydiceflowers @seaspirit-12 @bottlepiecemuses

Thanks guys! Hope to have a great time here!

Thanks for the tag @prettiestgirlinthemorgu3!!🩷

Beggining of the year stats♡

• Age: 17 (help I'll be 18 this month)

• Height: I'm not sure, I think 5' 10"

• Grade: Finishing high school (Really I graduated in December but I still owe a few things, anyways, I almost have my degree!!😸😸)

• Confidence: 3/10 (I want work in that this year)

• Happiness: I'll just say it could be worse

• Gender: Female

• Sexuality: I don't use labels but I guess bi or pansexual

• Romantic: Idk, if you give me ur love and attention I will probably love you lol

• Favorite Food: French fries or spaghetti with bolognese sauce 🍝💞

• Favorite Show: Well... right now Gravity Falls and Sam & Cat (I've been watching old nickelodeon shows)

• Favorite Movie: that christmas (sorry, i love animated movies)

• Favorite Song(s): Winter Baby / New Jersey Blue - 070 Shake

• Favorite Artist: Idk, SZA and Tyler, the Creator

• Relationship Status: Single

• Favorite Color: Dark red and violet

• Favorite Season: Autumn 🍂

• Followers: 182 (Tysm, I love you all!!💞😽)

Np tags: @rottingangel9 @blacklipstickstain @beloved-angel @mentallylivingin2000s @missworld19 n anyone who wants to do it♡