#love may simply be the answer for the world but for me it's the problem. fucking distractingly pathetic lie.

[setsugekka]

❥of floral lace (m)

↳ Wedding planning is a stressful enough job as it is, without the added trouble of a handsome best man who can't seem to take his attention off of you.

But when it comes to 'meant to be,' maybe he knows something that you just don't quite know yet.

best man!bang chan x wedding planner!fem!reader — strangers to lovers, meet-cute, unrequited (?) pining, explicit sexual content. [11,2k wc] cws: alcohol consumption, protected penetrative sex, Chan wants it bad-bad, a lot of teasing and wanting and flirtatious banter.

In February, the weather is still cold. Bitter and icy, some days. Windy, with occasional snow, and it’s days like this that make it feel as though the warmth of spring and summer may never come. Sometimes, it’s the small reminders that life – the world itself – is ever changing. Spring will always come, winter will always end.

Such is life, isn’t it?

Walking up to the glass and platinum plated front doors of the expensive building, Chan muses the thoughts. Despite it not being for him – simply being an accomplice, of sorts – being involved in the wedding party tends to bring about the thoughts of ones own, personal love life. Life in general. Cycles of love and loss, all encompassing. A tall, white, building in a busy and upper class side of town – not where Chan is from, but where the bride-to-be was from. Completely foreign while simultaneously being familiar in proximity. Stepping forward and reaching for the door with his dominant hand, opening it for the couple and attempting to push his long, blonde hair out of his eyes with his other hand, the woman that his best friend would marry looks towards him kindly and chuckles – a comment about knowing the struggles of women with long hair versus the wind, and Chan smiles in response to her.

He likes her. Always had. Nothing romantic, but he was proud of the choice that his best friend of many years had made in a life partner. Chan often found himself hopeful that he, too, may one day make such a choice for himself.

The three enter the building as he continues the attempt of wrangling his hair – best friend in question, Lee Minho, laughing under his breath as to not disturb the quiet ambiance of the room they had just entered.

“Are you gonna cut it before the wedding?” he asks, lightly nudging Chan in the arm, and Chan looks at him in a slight state of shock, as if the thought had never even dawned on him for a second previously.

“Should I?”

“You don’t have to.”

Looking around, briefly at their surroundings: white furnishings, carpeting, walls – gold accenting mostly, with hints of forest green among the well-kept plants and coming together along the counter outline of the desk – he feels wholly out of place. It was much too expensive for him, and if he ever were to be planning a wedding in the future, it likely would not be here.

He brings himself back to the conversation, “does she want me to?” referring to the bride in question, and Minho only shakes his head. “No, she doesn’t mind.”

“I’ll be with you in just a second!”

A woman’s voice calls from another room – back behind the desk they stand before. Beige envelopes and paperwork lightly strewn across it; it’s somewhat messy, but nothing completely unmanageable, and the phone begins to ring at that moment.

Chan hears the same voice that had just called to them curse lightly under it’s breath. He cracks a smile at the break in character, as it were.

It’s in that moment that he finally lays eyes on you – beige pant-suit and hair in a ponytail, pen in mouth as you fly around the corner and attempt to answer the phone with the item still snug between your teeth before you realize that that simply will not do, hurriedly tugging it from your lips and lightly tossing it on the desk in front of you. You look up to the party of three in front of you, waiting patiently, and smile.

“Just a second.”

“No problem, take your time,” the bride insists.

Chan can only watch on in awe, though.

It’s a relatively quick phone call, confirming an appointment for flower arrangement the following week and then it’s all eyes on the individuals in front of you. You look at the bride, the groom, and then Chan – quite obviously not the one getting married. Messy, wind-swept golden hair and beady brown eyes – but in jeans and a hoodie with a small spot on it that looks akin to a child who had accidentally spilled some sauce on himself and forgot to clean it up.

A little charming, due to the fact that he’s good looking. Turns out that can get one pretty far in and of itself.

“Right so,” you begin, taking a deep breath before continuing, “what can I do for you?”

Minho and his soon-to-be wife begin the discussions that they had gone there for, Chan listening on and truly as if he were playing the part of the son that had been dragged along for the ride due to no childcare being available. Your eyes can’t help but creep towards him every now and then – watching the way that he looks around the room, almost as if in awe of the sights – not that the interior was anything to call home about. You found it charming, his simple appreciation for…white, you supposed.

Calling for them to come into the back with you, the group sit at a table filled with thick binders with numerous labels atop them. Things like “reception,” “flowers,” “lighting,” anything that you could think of and even many that you hadn’t lined the table, and Chan considers for a second that maybe he won’t get married, after all.

He brings his attention to Minho, who happily dives into one of the binders – evidently delighted by the prospect of wedding planning. A complete disintegration from the stereotypical male response – the response that had just immediately come to Chan, himself.

He figures that maybe you have to be there, then.

“These are the more basic, common options up at the front on these pages, they’re labeled with this color,” you point out towards one of the binders displayed in front of Minho’s fiancee, “the further back, the more expensive and intricate the options become. It’s good if you have a budget in mind so that we can plan accordingly, of course.”

And of course, Chan is listening. Of course he is. But he can’t help but get lost in his own thoughts, as well as he watches you work. Taking notice of your smile and how pretty it is, the few loose strands of hair that have fallen away from the rest that lie bundled up into a tie at the back of your head. Chan watches your eyelashes when you blink and notices their length, and how pretty the color of your eyes are. Your earrings – expensive looking, hopefully not expensive in price, he thinks to himself as he loses himself in wishful imaginative thought – because if the two of you were to date, he wouldn’t be affording anything of the sort, and Chances are, that if they were expensive, then you wouldn’t be interested in dating him, anyways.

Chan had a habit of romantically getting ahead of himself, that much was evident.

“Chan?”

A sudden, vocal intrusion once again pulling him back to earth, it’s the sound of his best friends voice calling towards him. “You okay?”

“Oh,” he says, clearing his throat and sitting himself up in his chair properly. “Yeah, sorry, was spacing out. What’s up?”

“What do you think of this color? We need an outside opinion, that’s what you’re here for.”

Chan leans himself forward and out of his chair to look over the shoulders of the couple. Napkins. They forced him to stop fantasizing about dating the cute wedding planner for napkins.

Because obviously what he had been doing was of much more importance.

“Um, I like the lavender.”

“See, I think I like the pink, actually,” the fiancee replies.

“Keep in mind you don’t have to commit to anything today,” you remind them, “this visit is really only to get an idea of where we want to go, we’re not setting anything in stone.”

“Says you, I’m planning our own wedding,” Chan thinks to himself in response.

With pinks and roses decided among numerous other items, it’s a couple of hours later that the four of you bid farewell. You shake the hand of Minho, and the bride-to-be hugs you – much to your surprise, but with Chan, it’s a bit more awkward of a goodbye – due to the necessity of his being there in any capacity being up for discussion. However, you smile, thank them all for coming, and wish them well on their day.

Little do you know, however, the plans that the airhead friend have already set into motion.

According to him, of course.

The sound of the doorbell rings through the room as you look up from your paperwork in the back office. Gently pushing things aside in an attempt to find your schedule book, you gaze on in confusion to find that you have nothing on the agenda for this hour – and with the firm not taking walk-ins, you fail to guess what it could possibly be.

It does, however, make more sense upon finding out what the wind had blown in today.

“Hey!”

You’re shocked to find Chan standing at the door. Less the shock of it being him, and more the shock of him looking just as disheveled as he had the few days prior when you had met him. How could an adult man be so not put together, and especially on this side of town? It’s something you contemplate but only for a moment, as you are forced to address him now that he is presented before you.

“Uh, hey, so we don’t take walk-ins—“

“Oh no, it’s not like, a thing, I was just asked to drop by to relay some information.”

“Why you?”

“Was in the area.”

“You were in—“ and you pause, trying to think of a polite way to carry on with the thought, “—the area.”

Chan sort of realizes that the gig is up at that moment, in his shorts and his hoodie in twelve degree weather, and smiles gently. “Yeah.”

You roll your eyes, but motion for him to follow you into the back office with you nonetheless in order to take notes about whatever it is that he had gone there for – chuckling to yourself about the fact that he showed up to a very expensive office in winter, wearing shorts.

You don’t even want to do the soul searching it would take to figure out why you find that endearing, perhaps best left for therapy.

Sitting down in your chair, you pull out the file for the bride and groom in question and pick up a pen. “Has the client changed their mind about something we had discussed the other day?”

“Yeah,” Chan begins, but it’s slow, as he looks around and takes in the sights of the somewhat chaotic back office space that you call your own. You gently, playfully, call out a “hey” towards him to bring him back to the topic at hand. “Oh uhh, yeah, so instead of the pink, they decided on the lavender after all.”

“Interesting, your choice,” you respond.

“You remembered?”

Realizing what you had done, that you had, in fact, remembered what his input had been, you feel a bit of the heat of embarrassment rush into your ears – but attempt to play it cool.

“Of course, you were a part of the planning.”

He doesn’t respond, and only smiles down at you, shoulder holding him upright against the wooden frame of the doorway.

“And they decided on lilies instead of roses, also.”

“Good choice,” you answer, scribbling onto the paper in front of you and quickly penning something over the mark to replace it. “I preferred the lilies, myself.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Chan answers, and it’s so smooth it sounds as if he never said anything unusual at all.

You know he’s flirting with you, you simply choose to ignore it.

“Is there anything else?”

“No, just those two things.”

You stop, furrowing your brows in confusion and taking a moment to truly consider the oddity of the scenario before you. “Why…didn’t they just call me, why did they send you in person? These sorts of matters can be dealt with over the phone.”

But Chan merely shrugs and continues smiling at you. “Dunno, didn’t ask.”

You don’t take yourself for much of a detective, but figure it’s pretty simple to see what’s going on here. It’s cute, but you’re not interested.

You stand, motioning out towards the main lobby of the building and walk ahead of the man.

Chan takes it upon himself to view all of the ways in which you exist before him. Your hair, your eyes, your clothes.

Perhaps a moment where most men would objectify you, Chan is merely finding all of the intricate details, all of the little things – tiny ways in which he can talk himself into falling in love with you.

And you’re just trying to get the work day over with.

“I think if it were my wedding,” Chan begins, elbows on the desk and chin placed into his palms as you sit at your swivel chair and gently look up towards him as if he’s somewhat of an inconvenience to you. “I think, forest green and gold, a bit like this,” he says, pointing towards the detailing of the marble just under him. “What about you?”

“You think about wedding planning?” you can’t help but ask, unusual for a presumably straight man. You consider for a moment that you had been picking up all of the wrong vibes from him. Maybe he wasn’t into you, after all.

“Yeah, well,” and he pauses, thinking again, “well, truthfully, I hadn’t until the first day we all came here. I have been since then.”

“That’s cute.”

“So what about you?”

“I have work to do, if we’re done here,” you respond, ignoring his question entirely and instead meeting him with a tonally cheeky reply, avoiding eye contact as to not laugh.

“Answer me and I’ll leave then!” Chan whines in response, and you really wish you didn’t find this sort of behavior endearing in any way.

But you sigh in defeat, putting the pen that you had just picked up back down in a huff and looking up at him in gentle irritation, “fine.”

“Burgundy,” you start, pushing papers around to find a tablet of color swatches beneath them, and you point to a color on it with a freshly manicured nail. “Similar to this, more blue-toned. and then—“ you pause, pushing the present swatches aside in favor of different ones that you had located in the meantime. “Gold accenting, like this. And yellow roses.”

“Why yellow?”

“I just like them.”

Chan knows that he responds to you, although if you asked him just after he had left what he had said, he wouldn’t have been able to tell you. Instead, the man loses himself immediately in thoughts of a quickly developing crush. He watches your fingers dig through papers and point to colors – watches the way that your lips move with the words that you speak and the way the corners of them pull up when you talk about the things that you like in particular. It’s all in the way that you so matter of a factly say that you “just like” yellow roses – no other thoughts, no other reasoning. Just because.

Chan wonders if this is love – an absolutely, mind-numbingly, all-encompassing smittenness for another person that you barely know anything about. Juvenile and reckless and for all of the wrong reasons. Love at first sight. The honeymoon period that hasn’t even begun yet, and Chan was full-swing all the same.

And you wish it had been different for yourself – a child-like innocence to him that you found so charming and disarming in so many ways. a cute crush that surely would never develop past the phase in which it had already reached – you found yourself daydreaming about cute dates and picking out colors with him regardless, before shaking yourself out of it and returning back to your work.

bad idea, dating the clientele – even if only tangentially related as such.

“Hey.”

The smile on his face carries through the simple, verbal notion and you manage to pick up on it, even with all of the hustle and bustle going on around you.

That doesn’t stop him from having scared the shit out of you, though.

You watch Chan grin in response to your sudden yell and turn, “Jesus Christ,” escaping through your lips in exasperation and he still only carries a hopeful, happy curl of his lips.

“Bad time?”

The irony of the question being, of course, that he is asking it all the while you pick up the numerous sheets of paper, spools of lace, and other such items from the floor – items that had been suddenly relinquished from your grasp at the ill-timed intrusion of a man, a man not even getting married.

“Yes, you could say that—“ you respond, an attempt not to sound rude but perhaps failing ever so slightly. He was being irritating, after all. “—if we’re going to talk, then we’ve got to talk and walk,” you say, finally pulling everything into your bag and swinging it over your shoulder just before hurriedly rushing out from behind the desk and past the man before you – nearly dumbfounded in appearance at the way you move about in the middle of the day – even if for work. “I’ve got places to be, so make it quick.”

Rushing down the sidewalk, heeled shoes clattering against it, Chan watches in amazement at his inability to keep up. He wonders how you muster up the strength and ability to do this day in and day out – and with a smile on your face, at that.

“You need to take this,” you finally say to him, stopping only briefly enough to push some of the things in your hands, into his own. “Make yourself useful.”

“Happy to,“ he begins to respond, but only to watch as your back turns towards him again – ponytail in full swing, rushing back towards where ever it had been that you had been roped into stumbling towards.

Chan stops to smell the flowers – literally. As a few of varying different types had been thrown into his arms – but it’s quickly off to the races again, as to not disappoint.

And he can’t help but watch in complete, smitten, awe of you as you dart in and out of shops and doorways as you go. He never goes in with you – waiting patiently out front of where ever it is that you end up in the next moment, but he finds that he is never waiting long – that you work quickly. And he knows that he doesn’t know the workings of your job, your career, really at all, so maybe this is normal, but he smiles to himself at the way that the details of the situation don’t even really matter to him. Chan makes sure to watch you in a sort of make-shift slow motion that he crafts himself from scratch in the moment – capturing you and your essence and all of the things that he finds himself oh so quickly becoming enamored with, even just the way the wind some times catches your coat, it feels like a movie to him…the way his heart seemingly gets swept away in the same gust.

You step out of a building, as Chan is mid-thought, watching your every movement as he does. You don’t even notice it. Notice him. Not really.

He knows that.

Smiling, you bid the client farewell and give a sigh of relief towards the man that had aided you in your short, but fast-paced journey. “Thank you, sorry to make you—“

“Go out with me.”

The question arrives as a shocking on, albeit looking back on the situation, perhaps it should not have. You actually do give it some thought, as well – which in and of itself comes as a bit of a surprise to you, as well.

And you’re almost disappointed when you have to turn him down.

“Tonight, let’s get a drink.”

“Chan, that’s nice of you but—“ pausing briefly, you consider how to word the dismissal delicately…and sort of in a way to not shut down the possibility of going out in the future. “I have too much work to do tonight, and tomorrow. I’m sorry.”

You don’t want to talk to him like a child. Like someone to pity, but the refusal always finds a way to come out that way anyways. You watch Chan smile at you all the same, nodding to himself and simply saying “okay” as a response.

“You have a good night then, alright?” he adds, turning to head towards where home would be, and you’re not sure which part it is that’s yelling – the head or the heart – but one of them certainly is not being quiet about it’s desire to change it’s mind about the drink matter.

But you stand strong. There’s always more men.

“I will, you do the same.”

“I will.”

Chan loves watching you work. Hell, suffice it to say Chan fell in love watching you work. And perhaps it’s too much, too quick — something he tells himself from the logical part of his brain. You don’t even know her, dude. Which is true and he knows it, but the truth is that Chan has sort of taken it upon himself to fill in all of the blanks in the most shining, beautiful ways that he can. A man that lives on the precipice of a romantic comedy at all times — he’s always only been waiting for this moment. for someone like you. Someone to come in and sweep him off of his feet, as it were.

Just a hopeless romantic, that Bang Chan.

“Now’s not really the best time—“ you manage out towards him, mouth full of safety pins and fingers attempting to fumble through loads of white, shimmering fabric.

Dress fittings, the best part of the whole getting married gig, to some.

He doesn’t reply, carefully discarding himself from the doorway as to not be an obstruction physically in the same way that his presence is in every other way. He does smile, though. Halfway. A sly curly of the lip that you catch before pressing more pins into the bodice of your client.

Chan watches the whirlwind before him — feeling like the exaggerated display of floral lace and shiny shoes being tossed up and around like in the cartoons one sees when growing up weren’t actually that far from the truth — he smiles all the same, because he’s charmed by it all.

He especially takes note of your tied back hair and the way your jacket had been discarded probably long before he had arrived. How it appeared as though your day had already been a long one, despite it only being the early afternoon.

It’s the first time that Chan thinks to himself that you might really be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

But his attention is pulled back to reality, a woman gently leaning towards him and softly addressing him — as if she had known that his thoughts weren’t there with them at the time.

“Are you with the bride?”

Taken by surprise, Chan shakes his head — hands up in submission. “Oh, I’m with her!” he says, and points towards you as you continue diligently working on the fitting before you.

“Oh my God,” the client suddenly exclaims, turning towards him so suddenly that it sends you reeling. “You’re getting married, too!?”

Fuck sake.

“Wow, what a coincidence, huh?” the staff smiles towards Chan, before heading towards the small cooler behind the counter and pulling out a bottle of champagne. “We certainly have to celebrate this!”

It’s a roller coaster, for sure — and as hilariously charming the confusion is, Chan’s eyes can’t help but stay glued to your figure. Scanning your reaction. A chance you don’t hate this? A chance you might be willing to play along? Play pretend? Just for him, just for today?

The staff member comes back over to Chan without any time wasted, handing him a glass of bubbly gold liquid before sauntering over to you and handing you the same. Drinking is pretty strictly against the rules while on the job — except in situations where not drinking could cost you the job, of course. It’s up to your own discretion, case by case basis.

Suppose we’re pretending we’re getting married today. Just another check mark off of the list of completely insane things that the job every so often required of you.

Chan finally makes his way to the back and towards you, gently smiling — it says sorry that this happened, but it’s kind of fun, right? And you wish that you could deny him the pleasure of being right.

“So, have you started dress shopping yet?” the bride asks, eyes sparkling and excitement lacing her voice. You found it so lovable — the absolute delight that she seemed to receive from just the mere prospect that someone else might be just as happy as she was — who were you to ruin her day, then?

“N-no, not yet,” you stutter out, bashfully smiling towards Chan and then quickly away from him, because what the fuck? “I’m quite picky.”

You can see Chan trying to reign in the curl of the corners of his mouth at the response. He’s enjoying it way too much for your liking, possibly more than the client before you.

“You should try something on with me! Oh my God, please!” she gasps, grabbing at your free hand and shaking it gently. “Please! It would be so fun!”

“Oh, I—“ suddenly looking up towards Chan — full on smiling, now — and back at the client, you feel a bit outnumbered. “I shouldn’t, I’m working…”

“Yeah, for me!” she answers, hands on her hips in a playfully authoritative way, “so I think if I want you to try on a dress with me, that you should probably do it!”

It’s a mischievous threat, not backed by any actual ill-will, but you do have to consider any possible implications behind it — she is a big client, an expensive client.

You should probably just do what you’re told, right?

Running your hands down the front of the beaded bodice, it’s sort of an impulse to avoid your own reflection in the numerous, angled mirrors before you. Set up to show you every inch of yourself — you find irony in the fact that you wish to see none of it, because it feels wrong. It’s out of place, and not how you had dreamed your first dress try on to be — to appease a rich, pushy client and for a man that for all intents and purposes, you don’t even know. Playing dress up and pretend at your big age, it wasn’t the ideal outcome.

You hear the woman call out for you — indiscernible words that you know the meaning of all of the same. Hurry up, come out, become a spectacle. But you had already agreed, and the faster you begin, the faster it will end. You look up, finally making eye contact with yourself in the reflection, and your heart drops — but not for any of the aforementioned reasons you had expected. In a flash, all of your previous concerns simply melt away, just like that.

You looked beautiful. Ethereal.

And in the moment, you became painfully aware of all of the years that you had spent attending to the romantic wants and needs of everyone but yourself. Seeing yourself in the dress became an acutely stark reminder that maybe — just maybe — it was time to allow yourself to focus on you.

And despite barely knowing the man before you, watching the way his eyes lit up at the sight of you as you gently strolled into the room — as if he had never seen a sight more beautiful in his life — you think to yourself that if this guy can look at you this way, then imagine the way that someone who loved you would look at you.

Irony.

A few hours later into the evening, the sun setting and air cooling, the four of you say your goodbyes as the staff locks up the shop and the client joyfully heads off and on her way. When only the two of you are left — you and Chan — you let go a heavy sigh of relief, one that feels as though it had made a happy home in your chest, never to be evicted or removed in any way.

“What a horrifically stressful day,” you start, as to set the tone of the conversation and not let the man before you get any ideas that you may have actually enjoyed any part of the goings on of the day. “But she was happy, that’s all that matters.”

“Is that so?” Chan replies, a hint of doubt in his tone. “You really hated it that much? You looked pretty.”

The compliment sends heat rushing to your face. Since when was that a side effect of engaging with this gentleman?

“I guess it’s good that you played along,” you say, pulling your messy ponytail out and beginning to put it back up into a more well-maintained one. “It’ll be a really positive memory for her, and that’s my job, after all.”

Chan simply watches you, taking in every moment as if it’ll be the last because really, who knows.

“Anyways, since she was so happy, if you don’t have anything going on tonight—“

“Yes.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!” you respond in a playful-yell, slapping at his arm, but Chan only laughs.

“I do know what you were going to say! You were going to ask me out! I said yes!”

“I wasn’t going to ask you out!” you quip, slightly embarrassed by how transparent you had seemingly been. “I was going to agree to going out with you, since you had asked me before, they’re different things, actually.”

“Ah, I see,” Chan replies, only playing along with your asinine explanation but not willing to push it any further because in the end — he was getting precisely what it was that he had wanted all along. “Well in that case, I know just the place.”

Only a few blocks down the street and a quick right, Chan stops and holds his hand out as if you usher you ahead of him. Gray, stone steps trailing down into what appears to be a basement, hole in the wall type establishment — you’re almost a little concerned. This is an upper class area of the city, and this is where he takes you? And it’s as if the man just behind you is capable of reading your mind, chiming out “just trust me, you’ll like it.”

You open the door, holding it for him to follow, and the dimly lit atmosphere almost sweeps you just off your feet. A beautiful, antique adorned establishment, decorated as if to appeal to numerous generations before; but in the most swanky, high class, way. The type of surroundings that just about anyone from any walk of life could find charm in.

So shocked, you forget that you had stopped to take in the sights.

“Come on, let’s not linger in the doorway,” Chan says as he passes, cheeky-toned and knowing that he had caught you.

Shrugging your coat off, you hang it on the rack and take a seat next to him at the bar. Drinks are ordered and quickly served due to it not being a busy night, and Chan wastes no time getting into the nitty-gritty of what it was he was interested in: you. Everything about you. Where you’re from, where you live now, where you went to school and what you studied and your hobbies — it’s all things that he, of course, has a genuine interest in — but that doesn’t change the fact that they are but stepping stones to the meat and potatoes of what it was that he really wanted to know.

Your relationship status. Are you single. Are you looking. Are you open to the possibility of falling in love, and not just with anyone, but with him, specifically.

Although, perhaps he would not be one to lean so hard into the tail end of the obvious.

“Truth is,” you begin, shimmering glass of red wine pressed delicately to your already stained-red lips. “I’ve been single for a while. Sort of on purpose, I suppose. I wanted to focus on work and really get my career going for a while before I put time and effort into adding another person into my life.”

“Is that serving you?” Chan questions, his own glass mirroring yours against his mouth.

You pause for a moment to consider the answer — remembering how you felt in that fleeting moment back at the dress shop, seeing yourself in that dress. Was it serving you?

“Yeah, I think so,” you finally answer in an accompanying nod, “I think it’s important to be able to be happy by oneself before attempting cohabitation of some sort.”

And Chan chuckles in response, much to your surprise. “'Cohabitation’ makes it sound so clinical, like the concept of dating someone is a science experiment.”

“Isn’t it sort of?”

“Yeah, suppose it is, in ways.”

“What about you?”

And now he pauses, thinking himself through the slew of potential replies that bounce through his mind in an instant — some more insane than others, admittedly.

“Happily single, but always open to the possibility.”

“I think that’s a good way to look at it.”

Chan takes a slow sip from his glass and eyes you intently, as if trying to gauge your interest in his answers based purely off of a single, minute, change in facial expression. Hell, he wanted it so bad he was willing to make it up himself.

It’s the gentle curly of your lip at his reply that catches him off guard — burned into his memory forever and always — or at least until a moment were to come that the two of you would have made enough memories together that such an insignificant one need not be held onto for so long anymore.

Drink glasses emptied and coats slung back over shoulders, the two of you head back out and onto the chilled sidewalk to head your own separate ways. You can’t help but take notice of the way Chan looks at you — eyes shining in the florescence of the street lamp just behind you — the first time that you acknowledge to yourself that you think he is handsome, as well as the first time you acknowledge that feeling in your chest that you get when he happens to come around.

It’s a bad time.

“Look, I had a nice time but—“

Chan rolls his eyes in response already, and you haven’t even finished the sentence.

“What? You’re a client…kind of.”

“I’m not, and on top of that, I can assure you that they would not care at all! They’d probably think it was cute, actually. I’m sure Minho would already have so many stories to tell at our wedding from the first consultation.”

“Well that’s not reassuring,” you snort, “telling me I was already so memorably unprofessional from the beginning, huh?”

“Only in my eyes, don’t worry, they loved you.”

“Chan!”

“Come on, I’m kidding,” he replies again, “it’s not a big deal, they wouldn’t think anything of it. You’re making it into a bigger deal than it would be in your head.”

You know that that is likely the case. You also know that it’s just so easy to say one thing — like that one is ever so willing to look for love — and then construct the simplest walls given to you to avoid it at all costs.

The two of you still in silence for a moment, as if in a stand-off of sorts, but you more than capable of breaking the silence and constructing just one more wall — for good measure, of course.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you say, with finality. “Thank you for tonight, I had a nice time.”

Chan thinks to himself as he watches you walk away, that if it were any other woman, in any other circumstance, he would have already live and let live. That even in watching the way you turn him down and walk away, that you’re still simply the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Musing about every word that you said and the way in which you said it — how your glass of red wine stained your lips just the perfect amount that it made it nearly unbearable to not kiss them, how pretty your hands looked around the wine glass and how cute your smile was every time he said something that — purposefully, of course — you found mildly irritating.

Making his way to his empty apartment again, and standing just outside, Chan knows that there is progress made.

But what are you running from?

When you hear the jingling of the front door, and look down to your planner to find nothing having been scheduled for that time, you know that trouble is awaiting you in the lobby — trouble in the form of a kinda beefy, 171cm handsome gentleman by the name of Bang Chan.

Eh, suppose things could always be worse.

Lazily buttoning the deep maroon button of your vest as to look presentable, you look up and lock eyes with him as you come around the bend and into the front of the establishment. Chan — in all of his glory — a fitting pair of jeans for once and a shirt to match, you’re a little surprised. Had he made the effort all for you? Charming, if not for the fact that you told him you weren’t going to date him only a week prior to now.

Some men have a problem taking ‘no’ for an answer, unfortunately, sometimes it’s kind of charming when that’s the case, as well.

“Honey, I’m home!” Chan chimes, and you roll your eyes as you make your way to the front desk and seat yourself down.

“Yes Chan? Can I help you?”

“Always.”

“With something involving my job in some capacity.”

“Oh, right, that!” he answers. You know that he knows what you mean, he’s always just doing his utmost to be as much of a problem as possible. You’re not happy about how charming you find that, either.

“So, rehearsal dinner is in two weeks, on Thursday.”

“I know that, it’s my job to know that, I already talked to the bride two days ago.”

“Well I’m not here to tell you about it, I’m here to ask you to be my date to it.”

The brazen admission takes you off guard. It wasn’t really the first time Chan had ever asked you out, but this felt…different. Perhaps because of the night at the bar not too long prior.

You weren’t particularly fond of the way it made your stomach flip, either.

“I’ll be there, but for work, not for fun.”

“For pleasure, I think is how they call it,” he corrects, and you’re not proud of what the implications of that do to your mind.

You clear your throat, Chan watching all the while with a grin, and avoiding eye contact altogether, you stand again — pulling some items from the counter top into your arms and heading into the back from where you came.

“Right, well,” you say, attempting to play off how flustered you’ve now become in his incredibly flirtatious presence. “I have work to get back to, so, I will see you at the rehearsal — because it is my job and I suppose that you will also be there.”

With a smile on his face and eyes never leaving your form, before you’re able to scurry off to freedom, one last thing leaves his lips — because of course it does.

“Do a little something nice with your hair, it’s an occasion, isn’t it?”

You had never felt the need to keep a pillow to scream into in the back end of your office prior, but perhaps now were as good a time as any to invest.

On rehearsal night, catching your reflection in one of the mirrors of the wedding venue, you sort of wish that you had been a stronger person. You wonder how it was, exactly, that this man that you truly, barely knew, had managed to wear down your resolve in such a way that you were playing dress up for him. No, your attire not different than a typical work day — you were still on the clock, after all.

But your hair. And you can’t stand the way Chan looks to the floor with a smile when he first catches glance of you. Well, can’t stand it, and also sort of adore it.

“So, the brides mother, father, and sister we’re thinking of having here — but if there’s something that I’m missing, let me know so I can arrange it in a way that—“

“Hey there.”

Frozen in place, you don’t have to turn to check who it is anymore, and meeting eyes with the catering planner you had been speaking to, you smile gently before motioning that you need a moment, and turning towards Chan. “I’m working, can you give me a moment?”

“We need you to sit in for rehearsal, we’re missing someone.”

“Absolutely not, are you crazy?”

“Come on, you only have to pretend you have a crush on me, you don’t really have to have one.”

Turning back to the caterer in an instant, you insist that you’ll email the finalized plans over to him right away in the morning before finishing your conversation with Chan.

“If you keep interrupting me at work, I might not have a crush on you, real or make believe.”

“I think it’ll take more than that,” he replies with a cheeky grin, and nodding his head over towards the table, “now get over here and pretend you’re in love with me.”

It’s sort of sick, how easy it is for him to talk you into it. All of it. Any of it.

When the seating plan goes smoothly, and all of the wedding participants stand to take in slow views of the rest of the venue ahead of the big day, as you finish off some notes, Chan saunters over towards you with two glasses of wine in hand. “Come out with me?”

Stepping out and onto the large, white stoned balcony, you sigh in relief at how smooth the night had gone. You explain to Chan that — even in spite of having done the job for years, there’s always parts of every new client experience that feel brand new, that you feel as though you’ve never done before. Chan gazes on intently as he watches you speak with vigor, with self-respect, and with love and adoration for yourself. He thinks, in that moment, it might truly be the sexiest thing about you — at least, thus far.

When the gentle wind blows your lightly curled hair to one side and sends a shiver down your spine, Chan reaches out and pulls you towards him — into his warm embrace.

“It’s still chilly this time of year, yeah?” he says, and it’s almost a whisper. Perhaps the quietest you think you’ve ever heard him.

You opt out of responding verbally, and silently enjoy the warmth the man brings to you.

“Hey,” he says again, suddenly, and pulling you from him ever so slightly. Again, you choose not to reply, assuming that there were to be more words following up such a statement.

But you were soon to find that to not be the case — as Chan leans down and into you, plush lips gently pressing into your own.

The warmest you had felt all evening, you think to yourself — and perhaps interested in more where that came from, after all.

A short drive in Chan’s car lands the both of you in front of your apartment building — a gentleman, having offered his services of bringing you home in one piece — albeit, the thoughts of being torn apart by him figuratively becoming more and more of interest to you as the moments near him pass. Surely, one glass of wine wasn’t enough to throw all caution to the wind.

Unless…?

“Can I walk you up?”

Grabbing your belongings from the floor of the front seat, you chuckle. “Not much to walk, my building has an elevator.”

“Wow, fancy,” he replies smugly. “Didn’t know you had elevator-money in this sort of economy.”

“Go to Hell, yes you can walk me up, sheesh.”

His playfulness was what really had you, and you hated to see it. Broken down by the childlike innocence and joy of someone who was becoming more intriguing, more desirable, and more sexually attractive by the second. Truly, what had happened to your resolve?

Manicured finger pressed into the up arrow button, the elevator is silenced completely — no indication of it ever having registered the button being pressed at all. You press it again, and still nothing.

You sigh.

“Broken?” he says.

“Probably just asleep,” you quip back, “yes it’s broken. Have to take the stairs I suppose — you don’t have to come, I live on the fourth floor, I’m sure I can make it.”

“Better safe than sorry, really.”

Rolling your eyes, the both of you head towards the stairwell — all the while you hoping the slamming beating of your heart against your chest won’t reverberate through the echoing halls of the winding concrete cave that you are about to enter.

Floors two and three go without a hitch — well, mostly. It’s between three and four, that you realize there was never any Chance of you getting out of this stairwell unscathed. Or un-somethinged, at least.

He had plans all along.

“Hey,” Chan quietly calls towards you from behind, a hand reaching out and snatching your wrist from behind. It’s gentle, but enough to have you stumbling ever so slightly. He catches you — turning and pressing your back against the cold, white, wall — and them himself even harder against you.

Hot breath ghosting against the skin of your face, Chan’s lips fail to make contact with your own — instead opting to press into your jaw, and then your neck — and not without the direct contact of his hard thigh wedged into the apex of your own.

You’re a little ashamed of how little it took for him to pull from you a verbal response. It wasn’t much, but a breathy whine all the same — and you can feel the curling of his lips against you in affirmation that he had, in fact, heard it.

“I want you,” he whispers into your flesh, and the admission makes you dizzy with desire, pressing yourself down and against his leg for friction even more — as if to say that you felt the same way.

“Do you want me?” he follows up, mildly irritated at the fact that he’s asking, given the physical cues, but you still manage the breathy “yes” that he had been waiting oh so long for.

Chan thinks that it sounds so much better than he had ever even imagined it would. Unfortunate that this was not to be the time nor the place.

Pulling away, the loss of body against your own leaves you confused and frazzled — chest heaving and eyebrows furrowed, but you choose not to speak, because surely he would.

Because what the fuck?

And right on cue, “not now, I mean—“ he pauses, looking down at the tenting in his own pants and adjusting as for it to be not as obvious in the case of running into other people. “Not here, or now.”

“My apartment is right there—“

“I know,” he nods, “trust me, I want to — obviously — but I like you, so—“

“You can’t have sex with someone you like? Are you one of those Madonna-whore type guys? I knew there had to be something wrong with you.” You spiral off, adjusting your pants and trying to gather yourself properly. Chan merely laughs in response for a moment.

“No, it’s nothing like that, I’m perfectly capable of fucking you,” he answers clearly, and with decisiveness. “And I will, presumably. But let’s get to know each other a bit more first, yeah?”

“Oh my God,” you exclaim, a little annoyed at the games that Chan seemingly loves to play with you, and yet, willing to continue playing them on his terms all the same. “Fine, I guess I’ll get to know you or whatever.” Playful sarcasm dripping from the tail end of your response.

He laughs, gentle smile taking his features — and in his mind, all of the ways he plans to have you when the time is right.

When Chan shows up to your place of employment only three days later, it’s bad timing. The truth of the matter, is that it’s always bad timing, that’s the nature of a fast paced job such as your own, though. Shoving items into a bag and slinging it over your shoulder — followed by desperately trying to free your ponytail from the confines of the sling as you run towards the door, you only manage out with a “let’s go, move, move!” as you rush past the man in the doorway.

By now, Chan knows better than to ask very many questions. He’s quick on the uptake. He knows what he may sign up for upon arrival. Today? A handful of miscellaneous binders — sticky notes and fabrics sticking out of the tops, bottoms and sides of them.

“Already comfortable with bossing me around, huh?” he says, a brisk stride catching him up to you on the sidewalk as the both of you hustle down the concrete path.

“You know how it is,” you say, “if you’re gonna be here then I’m gonna put you to work.”

“I kind of like it,” flirtation lacing his voice. “Being told what to do by a beautiful woman definitely isn’t the worst way to spend the day.”

“That’s what you like? I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Maybe, can’t give everything away on the first date, I’m not easy.”

“So I noticed.”

You take notice of how easy it is now to engage in these types of conversations with him. Cute, curly blonde hair flowing in the breeze as you both run-walk towards the destination a couple of blocks away — you’d be lying if you said that it wasn’t a charm point — his absolute willingness to go above and beyond already. Carry things. Help you at work. Hell, he had sort of already showed up for you better than a lot of the guys you had dated in the past.

And now the flirting — playfully toying with each other in tone and topic that borders, if not fully crosses, the line of appropriateness — especially with you being on the clock.

Not that anyone is with the two of you to monitor the conversation. Or know that he took you home the other night. Or any of the other misdoings of that particular evening.

“Place is up here, did you come by for a reason or do you have a sixth sense for when I need help carrying things?” you ask, finally slowing down when the time on your phone insists that you have perhaps a minute or two to spare extra.

“Yeah, actually—“ he starts, slowing down next to you and stopping to face. “I wanted to ask you to be my date to the wedding.”

And you’re floored. That’s your immediate, gut, response anyways, but the more you grant a second to it, the more unsurprising you become.

He either genuinely does not understand how your job works and what proper boundaries are, or he just truly does not care. You’re fairly certain you know which it is.

“Chan, I’m working the event—“

“No, I know!” he interrupts suddenly, and for the first time it appears as though he had actually put some thought into it, and the inappropriateness of such a situation. “It can be our little secret. Just between us two.”

Looking down at your phone to check the time, and following it with an exhausted sigh, you roll your eyes. “Then what’s even the point?”

One corner of Chan’s mouth pulls up, and now you know he put thought into this. Which may or may not be advised, after all.

“The real fun would be after the event, obviously.”

Visually, you give off no tells, that of which you’re sure, but inside? Screaming, at the top of your lungs.

You’re not entirely sure if he means sex, or a date, or sex and a date or what he means at all. A man with something sly constantly up his sleeve, you simply had to assume: all of the above.

And so, you agree.

Weeks pass, and you’re surprised by the fact that when the night of the wedding comes around, Chan is actually no where to be found all of the time prior. The man that could not resist the urge to bother you at work, suddenly ghosting you? Were you being ghosted? Did he lose interest? Perhaps the allure of sleeping with the cute wedding planner had worn off all just before the big night itself. Tragic, you think to yourself, you didn’t even get to sleep with him, after all.

But when he meets you for the first time at the reception near the open bar — a smooth hand brushing the small of your back — so brief that no one nearby would ever catch it, the glimmer in his eye is enough to let you know that the plan is, in fact, still on.

And through the sound of a private bathroom door slamming against the wall, and your back up against it — met once again with the enticingly crushing weight of him against you as his mouth meets your own in fervent, needy kisses — you forget why you thought it was ever off anyways.

“W-we have to go back out there, Chan—“ you manage out between mouths and gasps of breath, fingers curled into the white coat of his blazer. “You wore white? That’s so tacky.”

“Not my choice, bride wanted it,” he answers back in similar neediness and much more expressed disinterest in the topic. “I want you.”

“Last time you said that—“ and Chan kisses you on the mouth hard again. “—last time you said that you didn’t do anything about it.”

“And I can’t again, not yet anyways.”

“Not into exhibitionism?”

“I don’t perform well under pressure.”

You laugh as he pulls away from you, allowing you to straighten yourself up to go back out into the public eye. “You’d be terrible at my job.”

“I know, just the most soft-dicked wedding planner ever, it’d be humiliating,” Chan chuckles, leaning back to check himself in the mirror as well before reaching forward and placing his hand on the door knob. “Good?”

“Good.”

As the reception carries on, you stand back to watch from a distance — available when necessary but for the most part, out of the way. For all intents and purposes, the large portion of your job was finished. The clients were happy, and the night a beautiful one — dimly lit fairy lights and silver plating along white, linen tables. You watch as Minho and his bride share a dance together, smiling into one another's eyes. Truly and madly in love.

A moment later, you catch Chan’s from across the room — a look held in time longer than it would typically be held. You feel it in your chest more than anything, and more than that, you’re hopeful that he might be catching the same.

When the night festivities finally come to a close — shaking more hands than you remember ever having mingled with in all of your time working with the client, Chan finally makes his way over towards you as the crowd dissipates — two glasses of wine just as he had offered on the rehearsal night, and you grin at him knowingly.

“Remember what happened the last time I had a glass of wine on the terrace with you?”

“Nothing much, as far as my recollection goes.”

Following him out and looking out towards the view, a breeze passes by the both of you — warmer than the last time, inviting, almost. Your gaze pulls from the trees and the buildings before you and towards the man next to you — handsome and charming and seemingly full of love and passion.

Had he…all of the things that you were looking for in a man?

Feeling your piercing gaze, he turns towards you — ashamed at your gawking, you chuckle lightly and bring your wine glass to your lips, but Chan only smiles in adoration of you.

Inhaling, Chan begins to speak.

“I’m not going to sleep with you—“

It’s sudden, and sends Chan visibly reeling — so much so that you feel the need to amend the statement in earnest.

“What I mean is like, like a one night stand…hook-up sort of thing.“

Eyebrows gently furrowing, Chan remains silent as he watches you talk through your thoughts in real time, not wanting to interrupt where ever it was that you were intending on going with this.

“I— I have feelings, so,” you stutter out, avoiding direct eye contact and instead, choosing to speak to the golden liquid in your glass. “So I don’t think it’s a good idea, is all. Sorry.”

Silence takes the balcony briefly. Seconds that feel like years to you, but in real time, Chan responds quite immediately. To that, you are thankful.

“What? Of course I’m interested in you. I’ve always been interested in you,” he says, “I don’t carry around binders full of color swatches just for any ol’ woman I want to sleep with, are you kidding me?”

“Chan shut up! I’m being serious!”

“I know, I know—“ he giggles, avoiding your playful slap to his arm. “I am, too. I’m serious.”

And taking a step forward, Chan leans down into you once again. It’s not the first kiss that the two of you have shared, and hell, not even of the night.

But it was different. It was new in all of the ways that love is and can be. The blossoming feeling of being seen and held by the one person that you wish to perceive you.

Walking back inside as the catering staff begin cleaning up the remains of the evening, Chan turns to you and takes a deep breath, as if somewhat insecure about where to go now.

“So,” he begins, the word exhaled through his mouth as if attempting to mask it to be as unheard as possible. “Want to come back to my place, then?”

You look at him with feigned surprise before replying, “aww, look at you. You look so shy now. What happened to tough guy in the bathroom a few hours back?”

“Tough guy has to perform now, if you say yes. Remember what I said about pressure?” Chan laughs in response.

You lean in to whisper, as to not allow any passerby into your banter. “Are you warning me of something?”

“Doubtful, but imagine how good it’s going to be if you go in with low expectations.”

“You’re so annoying.”

Turning off his car, you take a deep breath before grabbing your bags and moving towards crawling out of the passenger side of the vehicle.

“Nervous?” he asks. It’s obvious, after all.

“A little, I guess? Kind of silly since I’m a grown woman.”

“Not really, pretty normal,” he says, opening the car door and ushering himself out as well. “On the bright side, you don’t have to climb any flights of stairs, my building elevator works.”

“Elevator? After everything you said about mine! Jerk.”

Finally stepping foot into the mans apartment, you realize in the moment that you had never given even an inkling of a thought to what it would look like prior.

Nice furnishings, a clean kitchen area, and a bed that’s made — despite a relatively small apartment, it was well kept, and if you didn’t know any better you would think that he weren’t a single man at all.

“Want anything to drink?” he asks from behind you, rustling around with keys and coats by the door. You hum in response that you don’t need anything.

The next thing you know, you’re being hauled off towards the bedroom, in a set of arms much more muscular than you ever remember them being.

Dropping you back first onto the mattress, Chan wastes no timing climbing up the length of your body and nestling himself between your legs — mouths making contact yet again, and more needy than ever before — Chan only stops long enough to pull his own shirt off and over his head, thrown across his bedroom before settling back down and against you.

It lasts only momentarily, however — the heat of the moment quickly over taking him as he becomes acutely aware of how much clothing you are wearing and how much he desperately does not want that to be the case. Ushering himself up and onto his knees, he begins fingering at the buttons of your blouse, and smiles as your own hands reach down towards the buttons of your slacks.

“Can I take this off?” Chan asks hurriedly, already gently pulling you up and off of the mattress as if he anticipates the affirmative response. He receives it, of course, and slings the fabric along with the previously discarded of his own.

“In a rush?” you giggle, lying back down and watching his hands work in a rush against all of the confines keeping the distance between his skin and your own intact.

“A little bit, should I slow down?”

“No, it’s okay, we have more time for slowing down in the future.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Chan responds, motioning himself in reverse to create space to pull your pants from your legs. “That reminds me though, be my girlfriend?”

“You’re asking me now?” you laugh, the only clothing remaining on your body a pair of panties.

“Should I wait until i’m in?”

“You should shut up.”

“I’ll take that as a 'yes’ then.”

Chan makes fast work of his own jeans, kicking them along with his boxer briefs off before climbing back onto the bed, and you realize that you’re staring.

And unfortunately, that he notices, too. A cheeky grin, followed by a bright redness to his ears. It’s not often that you see him shy, but you can’t help but enjoy the sight.

Well, both sights.

Reaching down and hooking fingers into the remaining fabric, he pulls them from you and wastes no time pressing two fingers against — and then into you. A dull stretch, relieving in a sense — the feeling that this is finally going to happen, and apparently you had desired it much more than you had thought going in.

Chan leans down, pressing his mouth against yours only to trail his lips down your jaw, up and over towards your ear. Gently pressing his hand into you, you exhale a whiny — and you can hear the way it makes his own breath hitch.

“I want you,” he whispers into you, and if not for the fact that you knew it would finally happen, you might be annoyed by the admission.

“Please,” is all you can groan out, but thankfully, it’s all that he needs.

Pulling back and off of you again, Chan leans over to his dresser, opening the small wooden drawer and fishing out a plastic packet before ripping it open with his teeth and gently motioning it along himself.

As Chan leans back down into you, you feel the beginning of his gentle intrusion — guided by his hand in the beginning, then by the sharp inhale of your breath at the stretch. Forearms flat against the mattress on either side of your head, biting into your lip and eyes screwed shut — Chan groans under his breath as he presses himself all of the way into you, fully buried in your warm, wetness.

“God—“ he exhales into your mouth, you swallow it down happily, his admission of submission to you. “You feel amazing.”

“You feel—“ you begin, feeling as though it necessary of you to meet him halfway in the discussion. After all, no one likes to be left hanging all alone. But it’s the slow, drag of his pull out, followed by another velvety push inside that catches the words in your throat and only allows them out in the form of a groaned out “fuck.”

Only a few more strokes before Chan is able to get his head screwed on properly again — enough to make use of himself at least — and settles into a slow, strong pace against you. Bringing a hand up, he finds your hair and wraps fingers into it — not pulling, but as if you keep you grounded, keep you in place for him — for the both of you, in a way.

“Ch-Chan, I—“ you whisper against his cheek, voice shaky and seemingly already fucked out. 

He snaps his attention to, albeit a bit surprised by the fact. “Already?”

You nod quickly. Followed by a sigh of relief from him.

“Oh thank God, I'm so cl-close—“

Digging your nails into his strong shoulders, you feel your abdomen tighten in impending release, and it’s only a few more strokes before he’s pulling it from you — teeth gritted hard, unsure about the potential of a noise complaint from any neighboring people and not wanting to risk it — you groan loudly into the flesh of his arm, only causing him to meet you the same — three, four especially hard, rough pounds against you before he’s clenching his eyes shut and emptying into the barrier between you.

Rolling off of you to lie in next, chests heaving even in spite of the short session, Chan tosses his arm across his face and chuckles to himself after only a minute or two of silence between you.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for weeks.”

You giggle, snuggling up towards him. “Yeah? I could tell.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” he snaps back, bringing his closest arm to you up and around you. “Give me time, it’s been a while, alright?”

Tying off the condom eventually and getting up for glasses of water, he hands you one as the both of you sit at the edge of the bed.

“Burgundy and gold, right?”

The sudden thought catches you off guard, because what does that have to do with anything?

“Wh-what—?”

“Your wedding colors, burgundy and gold, was it?”

And now you’re really caught off guard, because he…remembered that?

“Yes, how do you remember that?”

You watch him smile, looking down into his glass of water before turning back towards you with his grin never diminishing. Chan leans in and kisses you on the forehead delicately before answering the question.

“Gonna be important,” he begins, “can’t hire you to work your own event, now can I?”

♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask.

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

[temiizpalace]

helloo may I request a prompt for the love triangle event please?

I'd like to ask for Jade and Vil with prompt 3 where they both offer their shoulders to rest on! tysmm

☆┊PUT YOUR HEAR ON MY SHOULDER! NOT HIS! (👑 vs.🐬)

SUMMARY: THEY BOTH OFFER HIS SHOULDER TO REST ON. WHO KNEW IT BECAME A FULL BLOWN WAR!

CHARACTERS: vil schoenheit vs. jade leech

EVENT MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: no determined end couple, jealousy, mentions of jade ssr vignette

NOTES: eel mafia vs a world star. sure why not!!! thank you for your request!

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

˚∘☆∘˚

vil did not mind helping you study.

actually, it was quite flattering. all these students around you with incredible grades, and you hand selected him as your tutor. i guess it was only natural. smart and goodlooking? you have good taste.

“and you have to carry the 7 or else it’ll throw off your entire answer. keep note of that.” he pointed at the equation on your worksheet. “ohhh.. that makes sense. thanks vil!” you smile, eagerly writing down the answer. your happy smile was so enthralling. a moment that cannot be captured elsewhere. a one of a kind sight. thank goodness he was an actor, hiding his emotions came like second nature.

if only you were alone together...

“well done, prefect. that was a difficult problem.” jade chuckles, nodding as you solved another equation. “at this rate, you’ll become quite the mathematician.” vil was less than pleased to be accompanied by jade.. especially considering what a manipulator that man could be. he’s already been played for a fool once, he doesn’t dare allow you to fall under similar influence.

“your steadily improving. i say finish a few more problems and you should have it memorized.” vil adds, pulling out a couple more pages. “oh! that’s.. uhm.. can we take a little break?” you ask hesitantly, fearing the tall stack of papers vil had seemingly grabbed out of thin air. almost offended by the thought, vil scoffs.

“this isn’t only about the material, it is also routine. perhaps not this entire stack, but we must do a few more to ensure you’ll continue to do well.” vil places a new worksheet in front of you, sounding like an enraged father when their child can’t memorize the multiplication table. “yes sir..” you mumble.

“oh come now, vil. the poor prefect looks positively exhausted. just look at their eyebags.” jade sighs, suddenly patting your shoulder. as much as he hates to admit, jade had a point. your eyebags stick out like a sore thumb. what an idiot he was to not notice sooner, a fault on his part. “tell me, [MC], when have you last slept?” jade asks, making you flinch.

“next question, please.” you reply, breaking into a cold sweat. the eel tuts in disapproval, shaking his head with a frown. “this simply cannot do. didn’t you know you need at least 8 hours of sleep?” it felt like a lecture. an incredibly boring and uninteresting one.

“agreed. beauty rest is important and staying up late is horrible for your skin,” vil adds, massaging is temples. “i’ll send you some of my own personal skincare for you to use and hide your eyebags, but you must get adequate amounts of sleep.” he huffs, crossing his arms. “okay, okay, i hear you both.” you yawn, stretching your arms out.

“please, rest now. we can always carry on another day.” jade smiles, patting his shoulder for you to rest on. “i can rest there?” you ask, a bit taken aback. “what’s the catch?” vil raises a brow, feeling uneasy with jade’s suggestion. it might be the jealousy, but something doesn’t sit right with him. “please, my intentions are entirely pure. i want nothing more than to see our beloved prefect resting well.”

jade put a hand over his heart, keeping his usual expression while hiding the beating of his heart. “mostro lounge might need their vice soon, no? the prefect may rest on my shoulder. i insist.” vil points to his shoulder, imploring you to place your head onto it. “huh?? guys it’s fine seriousl—“

“mostro lounge can handle itself, i assure you.” jade cuts you off, finding vil’s intense glare quite amusing. it was clear he was livid, and honestly that was the best source of entertainment jade could ask for. “i just wish to care for the prefect. your presence is excused.” vil waves jade off, signaling for him to get lost.

“oh? but wouldn’t having [MC] rest on your shoulder be harmful to your image and theirs? think of the scandals that might go around.. fufu, quite intriguing, hm?” jade hums, lifting a gloved hand to his chin. “i have a man taking care of any possible scandal that might go around, so that is truly the least of my concern.” vil smiles smugly, standing his ground.

as the argument, or rather, civil discussion, continued, the drowsiness began to capture your body. their murmuring began to sound like soft lullabies as you allowed the sleep to take you. your head rested against the hard wooden desk, staying unnoticed til both boys heard your snores.

“they look quite peaceful.” vil murmurs softly, looking at you with a twinkle in his eyes. “breathtaking.” jade coos, brushing stray hairs out of your face.

this rivalry wasn’t over, oh no, much farther from that. however, to keep you sleeping for as long as you could, they’ll hold off their insults and bite their tongue.

how could you turn him like this?

A/N: sbsbsbsb writing is feeling difficult lately

date published: 9/16/24

[twst-hottest-takes]

Tweel Anatomy discussion!

Part 1.

(Ask and ye shall recieve! This will be split up into a couple of parts because this could get long and it's easy enough to break up into pieces. [I definitely wasn't putting this off until the cards officially released.])

For starters I have to say again that I just love the twins and their merforms are so cool. I just want an excuse to gush about them. A lot of this discussiom will involve headcanons and hypotheticals and estimations, so there is your warning to not take anything in this post as law. This post, like pretty much all the others is very opinionated. Some of the fun bits about contemplating the anatomy of a fantasy creature involves drawing the imaginary lines between where the fish parts end and the human parts begin, and where the two become a blur and turn into something completely new. I like to think I strike a balance with my hypotheses, but perhaps others might not feel the same way. This is a post meant to start a discussion, not a fight. So let's see how far down the rabbit hole we can go . . .

Starting with a classic: How big are these guys?

Let's answer Ace's question. (While laughing like middle-schoolers about how that question was phrased.)

Now there is no canon answer to my knowledge so I can only give my best estimation. (Corrections welcome!) I firmly believe that they do not change "size" between their land and sea forms. For all intents and purposes, the twins are being treated as though their heads, arms, torsoes, and pelvic regions are the same size between human and merforms.

BECAUSE EVEN WITHOUT CHANGING SIZE THESE GUYS ARE ABSOLUTE MONSTERS IN THEIR MERFORMS.

I have no real proof of my theory. I simply compared the sprites and scaled the chibis until they had the same head size. Forgive me for not having a better method of measurement. I am not going to try and unravel the live 2D mermodels and I think trying to measure their shadows from their intro scene would be even less reliable. The length of the tail is approximately 75% the length of the rest of the body after where his feet theoretically end.

I didn't do the same with Floyd because I feel that it's safe to assume that he's probably a few cm longer (3-5 cm max) due to his 1 cm height difference when they are in human form. I hazard a guess that only the two of them actually care about that difference in length.

332 cm. (Or around 11 ft for those of us stateside.)

We know they're huge, but tying a number to the length REALLY puts things into perspective. Like it's actually a little scary.

Next: Gill placement.

I am a big fan of the gill slits being around the ribs! Not only do they look cool, but I like that it can be read as a combination of human and eel anatomy in their merforms.

Since they have a humanoid chest cavity, it makes sense that even though they don't have lungs, they may have a muscular structure similar to a diaphragm. By having a muscular system that works passively/sympathetically they could have a "breathing" motion similar to humans; but, instead of taking air in, it simply keeps water moving across the gills to maintain gas exchange.

Benefits of this system include: Being able to sleep (as I would assume merfolk do), and being able to stay in one place (most fish need to be moving constantly to keep their gills working). The ability to be stationary isn't necessary for fish, but for merfolk who have social conventions, even being able to sit still to have a conversation is a boon (unless the world of mermen is built around the idea that no one ever sits still, but I feel like the photograph from Book 3 proves otherwise).

Furthermore, having the gills on the ribs as opposed to somewhere farther up--for example, on the neck--the twins can reasonably stick their heads out of the water without fear of limiting their breathing ability. Though these new card illustrations show that they don't seem to have any problem with having their gills exposed to the air (at least as far as being photogenic is concerned), I can see it being convenient for merfolk to be able to poke their head and shoulders above the water and still be able to breath regularly (which definitely doesn't have anything to do with luring unwary travelers to their deaths. . .nope. . .not at all).

I have seen people say they don't like the choice and that the gills should be on their necks. If that's coming from a place of personal preference and is purely aesthetic I guess I can see it. But if anyone tries to tell me that it's not "eel-like" enough and they need to have the gills closer to the mouth, I will fight you. From a design and functionality standpoint the rib gills are fantastic!

For the last bit of this entry, let's talk about the elephant in the room: THE EEL ABS!

I'd say "don't get me started on this one" but I'm already here and we're already too deep in, so here we go.

Things are about to get spicy!

~They're fine.

Like, as a choice, the inclusion of these muscles is likely just for fanservice points, but it's not an anatomically strange thing.

Come here and I will explain to you a thing:

MERFOLK DO NOT SWIM WITH THE SAME MUSCLE GROUPS AS HUMANS DO!

Once upon a time, (this is going somewhere, just stick with me!) people complained that Ariel, the Little Mermaid herself, was too skinny and not built like a swimmer. People insisted that she not have such a tiny waist and her arms should be bigger. Now I, here and now, should not have to tell the reader why this is so ridiculous to say, but I'm going to anyway~ ARIEL DOES NOT USE HER ARMS TO SWIM! Those who have watched the movie may have observed that she swims like an aquatic mammal. All of her momentum comes from the verticle motion of her tail, and to some extent her abdomen, not her arms. When she turns human, Ariel does not even know how she can use her arms to help her swim upwards and out of the ocean. She struggled without her tail so much Sebastian and Flounder basically carried her to the surface.

In this way, merfolk do not need to have the same type of body as a human swimmer because they are functionally different and some people seem to get stuck on that.

Now returning to Jade and Floyd, again, their arms are not "built like a swimmer's." Once again THEY DON'T HAVE TO BE. There is nothing in all of Twisted Wonderland that suggests they swim with their arms at all. These boys have 5 foot long tails that are probably primarily muscle to propel themselves through the water. The arms are not for propulsion. The tails do the grand majority of the work, but this conversation was started about abdominal muscles so we'll circle back to that now. Unlike other merfolk (as exemplified by Ariel) who swim with verticle motions of their tails, eel-based mermen would swim by making horizontal motions, also primarily with their tails. I do say primarily because the idea occurs to me that there may be situations where the limits of their ability to move might be tested. If a merman built like this wanted to go significantly faster than whatever is "normal" for them, muscle groups higher in the body would get used. Essentially, given Jade and Floyd as characters, I don't find it hard to believe that, at the speeds they swim, they would be using their very human-shaped abdomens to increase their speed. That's a workout, especially for the obliques.

So, in conclusion, I don't think the abs are weird. Gratuitous? Absolutely. But they aren't the anatomical monstrosity some people seem to think they are.

Let me say once more, if you simply don't like how it looks, or the fish abs squick you out and you like to headcanon they don't exist--that's fine. But don't argue with me on the basis that it's not realistic. Mermaids are, after all, fictional creatures and depictions of them tend to be fanciful. The tough conversation comes about when we choose to draw the lines with how realistic we actually want them to be, HENCE THIS ENTIRE POST!

(Laughs like a maniac before signing off.)

Thank you for coming to the first part of my rambling. What should I talk about in the next part?

Other than the throat teeth. We've got a miniature essay about the throat teeth just about ready to go.

Also, apologies if there aren't enough visual guides. I really wanted to get this posted, so if anyone wants me to I can doodle up some more stuff to help with things like the image of the breathing aparatus and swimming motions. I have just not had much time this week.

(Going to fall asleep thinking about how sparkly these boys are.)

[olympiantea]

You must think I'm such a ditz. Here I am talking away, and you don't have a clue who I am!

My name is Cyrena. In another world, I'm known as the goddess of inspiration. Some simply refer to me as the Muse. I am the spark behind all of your amazing ideas. I live for the moment my patrons' eyes light up, and they realize they can do anything they put their minds to.

Look around you. We can find inspiration anywhere; though some may need to dig a little deeper within themselves to find it. Inspiration is not some fleeting thing. It is the ever-present heart of all creation, and endless possibilities are just waiting to be discovered. Sometimes, in the most unexpected of places.

Whether you are an artist struggling to unlock your potential, a ruler solving a complex problem, or simply an individual hoping to find some beauty in life; I'm here to encourage and motivate you. I invite you to explore the beauty of art, contemplate the depth of thought, and the wonders of storytelling. Call on me. I will guide you through the realm of imagination. Let me help you turn your visions into reality. Your dreams are your canvas. Ask questions. Observe. Engage. Share your thoughts as we work to rekindle your spirit and remind yourself that you are an amazing and capable being.

My duty is a work of heart. Some may find me to be vapid and shallow, but I beg to differ. I am an observer. I am an empath. You couldn't possibly lie to me... your heartbeat will give you away. Yes, I love gossip and parties, and I may seem a flighty and little self-absorbed at times, but I promise that I only have good intentions.

Alas in this world, I am taking on a slightly different role. I am here to serve as a persona for a not so traditional college student who is in her final semester. She plucked me from my world to tell you all a story. To answer a question, really. Can we use modern digital storytelling, specifically a gossip blog, to reimagine the tale of the Trojan War, and engage a contemporary audience while still preserving the essence of the myth?

It's essentially Greek mythology meets Gossip Girl... except I'm not hiding my identity. I'm here to collect your details and spill all the tea.

Xoxo,

Cyrena

[elaemae]

The premium version of human is here to wreck house, mfs.

[Twst x Obeyme!AFAB!reader]

CHP. 1.1: The start of the Blood Rose Tyrant.

Thank you, my amazing readers, for all the likes, comments, and reblogs🥹 It makes so happy, like– almost nothing can top the joy of seeing y'all liked my work :)

Btw, If you have any questions about my tagging and/or literally anything you wanna ask me bout the fic, just reach out to me and I'll try my best to answer you.😊

CW: Cursing, Idk what else... There's also the pronoun schtick I've been yapping about since pr. 1. (i.e MC will get mistaken for a pretty guy a lot -Mc is AFAB referred to as they/them- because the NRC cast have come to expect only boys to be in the school. Excluding the paintings ofc.)

(My pic)

Fun fact: While all of your ornaments act as containers to very *nom*-able amounts of magic, such a thing can be dangerous as it may give away your location if you need to hide or run away from someone.

Therefore, all of them were cast with a special spell developed by Solomon that makes it so that people can't sense that magic unless they're really close to you physically.

(Not to mention, only exceptional mages can actually have the hope of picking up on that magic as your all jewelry were also cast with a heavy magical concealment blessing from both Micheal and Luke.)

• • •

'What the hell is this?'

You think as you fiddled with the fancy pouch in your hands.

You had opened the gift box to find the pouch containing some basic skincare products and just went; ( •_•)..?

Like– What the hell? Who does that?? Are they saying that you're ugly and needed to start taking care of your face?! Well excuse you, I'll have you know –whomever you are– that this face was approved by Asmodeus himself you rude lil' shi—

*Ehem*

So like any sane person is supposed to do in that situation, you checked if the products were cursed or charmed and then pocketed it to maybe sell it in the future for some cash. (Lovely gift but you were taught never to use/ingest things given to you by strangers.)

Leaving the infirmary, you venture into the botanical garden, hoping you'd find some edible plants that you and Yuu can nibble on until you can procure other food options and some all important moneh. (Ugh, if only that damn crow didn't escape and hide away from you, you would've extorted his cowardly-ass and bought some food instead of needing to resort to this bs.)

'Trying to find a stone in a long abandoned mine is simply a fools errand.'

You thought as you absent-mindedly skipped past a certain tall, dark, and handsome man with horns, unknowing of the look of pure curiosity pointed at your back as you continued your musings.

'But oh well, they wanted to try so they might as well be those fools.'

You're not gonna stop them if they wanna try to fix things even though you've mostly stabilized the situation. (Not that they know.)

Damn, you also need to go to the library later so that you can learn what changes you'd need to do in order to adapt and know the problems you'd likely experience in this world.

Knowing yourself and your history for being a magnet of chaos, It'd probably involve almost dying more times than you have fingers and unearthing some deeply-buried soul-crushing trauma in which the only thing you'll get in return are the friends you've made along the way.

Aside from that though, you'd need to gain yourself a foothold in this society.

Preferably, there would be a lot of rich and influential people in this school to suck up to, but if those aren't enough then maybe you can venture into industries where you can kiss-ass in peace.

As much as you'd love to be optimistic, Crowley is the almost literal embodiment of a dead-beat dad barely pays child-support and your own search for a way home may take years before coming to fruition.

Tsk. You can feel your stress levels transcending the mortal plane of existence again as you can already envision the figurative mountain-range you'd need to climb just to achieve stability in this place.

$°\•m°n.. p/€∆$3.. H€\₱ m£...

Times like these just make you wanna curl up onto the floor in a fetal position and let the earth consume you whole.

Oh! And you also need to obtain a stronger blackmail material against Crowley to make sure he won't try anything remotely against you.

'Hmm... But maybe...'

You think as you took a quick and discreet glance to a security camera that had been "coincidentally" pointed at you.

Well, not really a coincidence.

If the mf behind these creepy-ass cameras —that have been watching you since your arrival here, mind you—, can lend you a hand then that would be the optimal outcome. There are a lot of security cameras after all...

Though there's also a large possibility that the fucker wanted you dead because of either boredom, simple bloodlust, money, vengeance (for some reason), your organs or all of the above.

You sighed as you entered the botanical garden, telling yourself to just worry about that later and focus on finding food.

If you get in trouble for taking plants here, you'll just throw Crowley under the bus. (figuratively and literally if he decides to be a bitch about it.)

• • • •

Yuu, Grim, Ace, and Deuce stumbled out of the mirror, finally away from the creepy forest and back into the college.

They all flinched and turned their heads back when they heard a dramatic 'Tsktsktsk–' from behind them.

"Well well well~ Look who finally decided to show up at–"

*checks imaginary wrist watch*

"46 minutes past midnight.. Huh.. If you all got any curfew for your dorms then you're both toast. Can't believe y'all spent more than five hours looking for a single rock..."

You said, referring to the two first years who flinched under your words and judgemental eyes.

"You all look like shit by the way."

Yuu awkwardly scratched their head.

"Thanks?"

*Sigh...*

"You're welcome, bbg."

"Just hurry up and give that rock to the fuckin crow already so that you all can spare the world from having to witness anymore of your gross, sweaty, homeless-lookin selves."

Deuce shrunk even further behind Yuu. (funny because Yuu was at least half-a-head shorter.)

Ace meanwhile, has too much ego to not say anything back.

"We wouldn't be looking like this if you at least helped!" He snarked.

"Why should I?"

You Dwayne-the-rock-Johnson raised your eyebrow at him.

"I don't owe any of you a smidgen of literally anything so why should I help?"

It wasn't a question, but a statement. Because why should you help? They should be grateful you even talked Crowley out of expelling them immediately. Not that they know but still...

But of course, audacity is gonna audacity. Because, Ace really had the nerve to look offended by your words, as if you weren't saying something as truthful as the sky being blue, the grass being green, and your ass being a literal masterpiece from god.

"Don't even try to pass off the blame, Weasley-wannabe. I know it, you know it, your mom knows it, your dad if you have one, your entire bloodline and your non-existent cow knows it, there's literally no point."

Ace literally almost snarled at you like a damn dog, pft– That's what he gets from pissing you off by existing earlier.

"Oh shut up!"

He then looked like he was about to start a rant of how unfair his life was and how he totally didn't deserve any of this and blahblahblahblahblah–

You swear on Diavolo and Luci's fruity man-boobs, you'll hang this bitch upside down like a bat if you had to hear another complaint about things being unfair for him.

What about you? or Yuu? Isn't life more cruel and unfair to you two? Taking you both away from loved ones and shoving you into a world where you two need to fight for a temporary sanctuary as you both try to go home with no real proof you'll actually be able to make it back?

Isn't life more unfair to you? Right when you almost finally achieved the start of your happy ending.. You were taken away from the people that you fought tooth and nail to be with.. And now, they're all too far away for you to reach... again.

Deuce elbowed Ace, thankfully making the jab to the ribs painful for the annoying ginger.

You dramatically sighed again, turning to Yuu and Deuce.

"Remember kids, don't copy Ace's attitude okay? Lest you want to end up single and with no bitches for the rest of your life."

Ace's right eye twitched erratically, shouting at you to shut up and to stop messing with him.

• • • • •

Talking with the crow is an annoying affair as expected. At least now, Yuu is finally an official learner of the school. Even if they're just half-a-student with the loud talking cat. (That kinda reminds you of Mammon, now that you think of it. Also very funny because the cat's name is grim of all things..)

Oh, and you're a prefect now. You're definitely going to make that everyone's problem. Hehehehehe~

"So the abandoned dorm we were supposed to live in is fixed now? How? Hasn't it only been like– a day?"

You ominously beamed at the question, releasing a sinister little giggle that caused Ace, Deuce, and the now wide-awake Grim to subconsciously shiver while Yuu refrained from asking further questions and just wisely snickered instead.

Unseen by everyone, you sent a quick devious little smile to a wall where a certain electrical device was mounted, biting down a snort when you saw the security camera suddenly snap into another direction, as if it was a person embarrassed that they got caught by someone they were staring at.

You then had to hold back a cackle as you remembered how easily this newly made stalker friend of yours snitched on the headmaster, like– you literally didn't even do anything, the flustered boy just gave you the blackmail material that you needed. Well, maybe you did corner him a little bit by using his own electronics against him but you're pretty sure he enjoyed it for some reason if the way he literally blurted out 'mommy-' at you was anything to go by—

Haha, the benefits of having a hacker as a fren :3

• • • •

Kicking away the two idiots and telling them to go back to their dorms already, you dragged Yuu inside the now newly fixed dorm.

The two of you needed to talk about a few things and arrangements..

• • • •

Quickly opening the door in hopes that the fucker that was banging on it gets mash-dabbed face-first, you saw nothing but disappointment as the bastard — Ace — had actually moved away from the door in an impressive display of intuition and spidey-sense before you had even wretched the door open.

"What the fuck do you want, you ugly punyeta?"

It hasn't even been a few hours since this mf parted ways with you and Yuu, so what could be the problem now?

. .. . . . . ..

"No, you're sleeping on the couch."

"What?! But why?!! There are perfectly good rooms here!"

"All the other rooms besides the one we're using are still unfurnished. The beds in them are yet to be assembled and the floors are dusty because of the quick renovations." Yuu stated, rubbing the bridge of their nose.

"Ughhhhh! Just let me squeeze in, I promise I won't take up too much space!"

"Nice try but no."

"Tch, You're all so stingy and inhospitable.."

"Yuu, Do you hear that?" You said, theatrically cupping your ear with a hand.

"Yes, It seems that a forever virgin is talking." Yuu answered with a smirk.

"Hey!"

"Sorry, you oompa-loompa lookin ass— we unfortunately can't understand the language of people who can't pull."

"You guys are the worst."

"Thanks bbg." you and Yuu paused.

"Pft–"

"Oh dear~ It seems you're starting to take after me."

"Indeed it seems." Yuu replied, even subconsciously copying the fancy accent you used.

"Oh no, you're multiplying. :0"

"Haha, we're still dragging you to apologize to your Housewarden later."

"Aww shucks.."

← Pr.7 | Chapter List | Chp. 1.2 →

Thanks for reading this far, my amazing readers ＼⁠(⁠^⁠o⁠^⁠)⁠／

Pls don't forget to reblog and like, it really helps me so much <3

Taglist;

@f0uerleafedcl0ver @a-traveling-void-human @leviathans-tail-scales @nimko @solarixstar @sugarrush-blush @im-in-love-with-fairytales @irisxiel @meigalaxy @nightw-izhu @refridgeratorplus @moonieper @certified-twst-simp @immakittybear @iris-arcadia @caprinaesprout @mc-glare-is-king

Pls if I forgot to tag someone, pls tell me..

Tumblr is fuckin with me again.

Reminder; Just tell me if y'all wanna be added to the permanent taglist.

[sweetkpopmusings]

wonwoo boyfriend headcanons <3

a/n: i am vibrating from how much cold brew i consumed on an empty stomach so i'm writing this in hopes of wonwoo thoughts calming me down but honestly i'll just end up crying <3 pics not mine~

content: fluff | wc: 1.4k | warnings: none! | pairing: boyfriend!wonwoo x gn!reader | requests: open

wonwoo is the love of my life actually. it's scientifically proven and peer-reviewed that i love and adore him with all my heart and soul, so this post is going to be long and filled with my love for him <3

sweetest softest most loving boy in the world <3

he's the type of person to show love through small, tender gestures and actions

loves playing with your hands

i can very clearly see him lying in bed, grabbing your hand delicately, and twiddling with your fingers while you both watch tv/read/scroll on your phones

he also does this absentmindedly when he’s thinking

he may be lost in thought but that doesn’t mean he’s unaware of your presence <3

your presence actually helps him think more clearly :-(

he'll always come to you with questions or problems he needs to work through because just talking to you helps him sort out his thoughts and he knows you'll always offer support and advice

he will call you or send you voice messages about this when he's away too

you are always always always on his mind

and he never lets you forget it

wonwoo so clearly loves you with every little thing he does

even the unconscious ones

walking on the outer part of the sidewalk so you're farther away from vehicles, putting his hand over your head when you enter a car, getting two of a drink/snack so you can have some, tidying up your area of the bathroom counter, and so on

taking care of you is his second nature :-((

sometimes wonwoo just stares at you with complete wonder in his eyes because he can't believe you're real

when you catch him doing it and ask if there's something on your face he just shakes his head and says in tiny "oh no it's nothing"

he looks down to his hands and he's blushing SO much and fighting back a lil smile because he's overwhelmed by how much he loves you i'm screaming

if you push up his glasses when they start to slip or straighten the collar of his shirt or fix a loose strand of his hair he will absolutely lose it

you broke his brain like he doesn't know how to contain himself when you do kind gestures like that

he's muttering and stuttering "thank you" over and over again

he's so cute and flustered so you just give him a lil kiss or pat on the head and he goes completely silent and his eyes are literally sparkling with his love for you

no thoughts head empty except for his love for you <3

wonwoo is a big big BIG fan of quality time

he adores doing things with you, and he equally adores sharing space with you as you both do your respective things

if y'all are in the living room reading different books but cuddled together on the couch, wonwoo is genuinely in heaven

he also loves having you around while he games. like if you're in his vicinity he's so at peace even when his emotions are at an all-time high during the game

and he loves just hanging out while you're doing something you love !!

he simply loves your physical proximity (or digital if he's touring/you're traveling and y'all just facetime or call while doing your own things like cooking or working)

he will let you know when he wants your undivided attention though

often he will do this by biting your shoulder :,-)

you could be making tea in the kitchen and wonwoo will walk up and give you a backhug and gently bite your shoulder so you know that he wants you to look at him and talk to him i'm sobbing thinking about this

and he's so content talking about the smallest things with you :-(

after he bites your shoulder he hums "what're you doing?" and you know he knows what you're doing but you love him so much so you answer "i'm making tea"

he proceeds to ask you lil questions about your tea, your mood, what you plan to do while drinking your tea the correct answer is "hang out with you, wonwoo"

he could actually listen to you talk for hours i'm not even kidding

he's obsessed with the sound of your voice and all the idiosyncrasies in your speech, gestures, etc

he starts picking them up and seventeen is like ?? when did you start saying/doing that ??

and then they meet you and go OHHHHHHHHH that's what it was

after that they will point out every time he acts/speaks like you and he gets a lil embarrassed but also his heart swells because he loves that you've become such a huge part of him <33

he strikes me as the kind of guy who likes to listen to podcasts with you

hear me out

walking around outside, there's a breeze in the air, you're holding hands, sharing headphones, and listening to a podcast about your shared interests

someone hold me i'm having a breakdown

he's so good at comforting you

he becomes so in tune with your emotions that whenever you come to him sad/angry/stressed/etc he is ready

even if he doesn't know exactly what to say, he will listen to you and support you however you need

he'll hold your hands in his while you speak and maintain eye contact so you know you have his full attention

and whenever you cry he will gently wipe your tears away before grabbing tissues for you <3 and sitting with you while you settle yourself <3 and then he'll ask if you want water or anything to make you feel more at ease <3

he's also the absolute best at supporting you through all your successes

he is your BIGGEST fan

he'll always be proud of you and tells you that frequently because he thinks you're so amazing in whatever you do and he wants you to celebrate yourself as much as he celebrates you

he will be walking on cloud nine if you ever compliment a song/performance he's done

like if you like what he's doing that's more than enough for him to be satisfied with it

if he's ever insecure, you telling him all the wonderful things he does makes a world of difference

also so silly with you

he loves making comments that make you laugh

he gets the proudest smile on his face when he makes you laugh

he likes to whisper lil jokes or ad-libs to you when you're hanging out in a group

because he loves when you giggle or even laugh loudly at something he added to the conversation just for you

sometimes he'll make notes of a funny story or a joke he wants to tell you the next time he sees you :,-)

he also will keep notes (mentally or on his phone) of cool things he's learned so he can share them with you !!!

few things make him happier than the look on your face when he tells you something interesting <3

speaking of notes

wonwoo loves leaving handwritten ones for you

if he leaves before you wake up, he's putting a good morning note by your usual mug or your toothbrush so you see his encouraging message as soon as you start your day

if you're going to be apart for a while, he'll write longer notes or hide different little ones around your place so you can get surprise wonwoo words while he's away :-(

any notes you write him are kept safely with his things !!!

he keeps a special one in his wallet or phone case, so you are always with him and he takes it out and reads it when he misses you or is feeling sad even though he has it memorized

if you give him a gift based on the notes you two have written each other throughout your relationship, he WILL cry

he just loves sentiments like that <3 he's a sentimental guy and he likes to show you his love through things with meaning because he thinks it's the best way to convey how special you are to him

wonwoo loves you with everything he's got, and it's clear from the way he interacts with you on a daily basis that you are an important part of his life

no matter what, he's thinking of and caring for you because you make him feel so loved and cared for that he wants nothing more than to make you feel safe and adored <3

sorry i gotta go clutch my crocheted wonwoo plushie to my chest and cry because i love him so dearly :,-( i hope everyone gets the wonwoo they deserve <3

[little-annie]

T | 1,415 WC | Ao3

Light's streaming in through the white linen curtains, golden and glowing, illuminating their bedroom in a familiar warmth. 

It's a Sunday morning. Sometime between 9am and noon, neither of them has bothered to check the time, because that's all they have this morning; time. Time to hold each other in the silence and comfort of their home, time to bask in the warmth and the sun and the heat radiating between their bare bodies. Time to take in every fibre of the other's being. The freckles, the moles, the scars and slowly ageing wrinkles.

Steve's on his back, arm wrapped around Eddie's shoulder while the man lays with his chin on Steve's chest. Blankets are lazily draped around their bodies, nothing much left to the imagination in the comfort of their own home. Feet brush and thighs touch, bodies pressed so close together that they may as well be one.

Hands move slowly, fingertips tracing mindless circles over bare skin. Circles and words, Eddie drawing constellations over the smattering of beauty marks across Steve's body.

It's pure and it's beautiful. It's routine. 

Sunday's are meant for love, in the purest most beautiful form. Sunday's are meant for silent words, gentle touches and soft kisses. Sundays are meant to be flooded with light and love and quiet gasps against kiss bitten lips.

Sunday's are meant for them. 

Sundays are meant for the moments that they look into each other's tired eyes and whisper the familiar but forever beautiful, "I love you."

And this time when Eddie says it and Steve answers with a press of his nose and lips to Eddie's forehead, repeating the words back to him, Eddie can't help but to think of the many Sundays before.

Of days within recent years spent in each other's arms, tangled together in an ethereal web of warmth and affection. Of days that have come and gone but are no less meaningful in their familiarity.

He also thinks of how something so beautiful, so pure, so powerful can't possibly be contained to a single lifetime. That with Steve's heartbeat against his fingertips and skin against his own, that this can't possibly be the only lifetime they've loved one another.

And then he looks over the freckles and moles and beauty marks dotted over his lover's body. He recalls some saying about lovers and lifetimes and how every discoloured speckle of skin is the proof of past affections. 

He can't help but think he's left every last one that dots Steve's form.

Slowly, Eddie moves, subtle, pressing his lips against the spots on Steve's chest. He thinks, maybe in that lifetime they found each other sooner, didn't endure the hardships of hell or life on earth, that maybe they were young and grew old together; much like he hopes they do in this lifetime. 

He moves again, pressing his lips to Steve's shoulder, three kisses for three dots of darkened skin. He can't help but imagine a life in a different time, out and free to love in a rather harsh world. In a world of Cowboys and Bandits; The Wild West. In a world of recklessness and cruelty, in a world where boys kissing boys is the least of everyone's problems.

He kisses his way up Steve's neck, to his favourite pair of freckles, hoping he leaves a mark of his own in this lifetime. Three dots, Orion's belt, courage and strength and a light in the sky.

Then he feels the vibration of Steve's laughter against his lips, soft and quiet, though it radiates through Eddie's body all the same.

"What're you doing?" Steve whispers past his silent laughter, one hand holding Eddie's bare waist while the other buries itself in messy, knotted curls.

Eddie smiles, kisses his way up to the freckle on Steve's jaw and answers simply, "Loving you."

Steve hums as if Eddie's answer is good enough. Eddie noses against Steve's cheek while he whispers against olive skin, "What're you doing?" 

He can feel Steve smile beneath him, the movement of the muscles in his face, subtle as he quietly answers back, "Letting you love me."

The moments so pure Eddie can feel the sting of tears in his eyes and mass of emotions swelling in his throat. 

It took them a while to get here, to be able to share this love and accept it with ferocity. Steve had been hesitant at first and for a long while; the way of his family, beaten into him as a child. Eddie's not proud of it, but it was one of their first arguments, the way Steve wouldn't let himself be loved. He'd yelled and he screamed, trying to drive home all of the reasons why Steve was worthy of such affections.

The argument had somehow settled them in a moment not far off from this, several hours later, in an apartment they continue to call home, Eddie whispering around silent slowly falling tears, "Let me love you Sweetheart."

And since then, he has.

Eddie continues to kiss every speckled inch of Steve's body, receiving a gentle hand through his hair, a hum or a kiss of his own in response.

Now settled on his stomach, body wedged between Steve's thighs, his hands crossed over his lover's navel and chin resting over his own knuckles, Eddie whispers, "I don't think I've ever stopped loving you."

Steve only raises his brow, Eddie's words not 100% making sense.

Eddie smiles, sweet and gentle, cheeks tinting pink as he speaks, "I mean, I feel like I've loved you a million lifetimes before,-" he kisses the freckle not more than an inch from where his hand lies, "-and these, I believe emphasise my point." 

He moves, pressing himself forward, pushing his toes into the mattress to reach another dot of darkened skin, "Like this guy right here, I'm sure I've kissed this spot many times before." Eddie moves again, reaching for Steve's hand and laying a kiss to his knuckles, "and this spot. Maybe you were a Prince in a past lifetime, our love hidden in the shadows and the only affections I could show were the ones of greeting."

Steve smiles, giggles a little while he cups Eddie's cheek, brushing a thumb over the fading scar beneath his eye. Eddie can't help but lean into the touch.

It's quiet for a moment, heartbeats and the sound of steady breaths are the only thing in the air, then eyes holding Eddie's, Steve speaks, quiet, shy as he touches a freckle that's gone unloved in the last hour, "How about this one?"

Eddie moves to kiss the aforementioned freckle, pressing his lips to Steve's waist, "I think I remember that one," he says, "we were old, grey and weathering, the sky was dark and the sound of rain was beating against the roof. We'd moved to a cabin, out by some lake, spending our days in the nature and the silence. You let me take you on the kitchen table-" 

Steve interrupts with a snicker at that, saying, "I thought we were old."

"Oh hush, I'm telling you a story-'' Eddie pokes Steve's cheek, moving, situating himself laying how he was when the thought of love throughout lifetimes came to mind, then he continues, fingers circling over Steve's chest, "We were old, but that doesn't mean I couldn't love you. I kissed every inch of your body that night, much like I am now. Each soft embrace punctuated with the presses of my hips or the thunder in the sky. I told you of all the reasons you were loved, of all the times we'd spent together. It was a beautiful thing you know, the way we moved together, I think you may have even cried."

And maybe he expected that to make Steve laugh, but from the spot he's pressed against the man's chest, Eddie hears a sniffle, quiet, trying to go unnoticed. He pulls himself up, a gentle kiss to Steve's salt stained lips, a single silent tear rolling down his cheek and it's then that Steve whispers against the embrace, "I think you're wrong Eds, I don't think that one's happened yet."

Eddie can't help the wet laugh that falls between them, his lips pressing into Steve's with a ferocity as he thinks, "yet," like sometime in the future that scene is bound to unfold. Though he can only hope, it's on a Sunday in this lifetime.

[aloesarchives]

Valentine's Day Special(JJK One shot)

Warnings: None other than Female Reader, and Domesticity with Toji, Megumi, and Tsumiki

Pairing: Toji x Fem!Reader

Wanted to write something for Valentine's Day. So I wrote one for Toji, I may or may not write one for Satoru but we'll see.

Man has never done shopping for anyone before in his entire life. Now it’s Valentine’s Day and he has gotten nothing for you…yet. Well, Toji is trying to think of something but the problem isn’t that he couldn’t afford it… Toji hasn’t didn’t know what to get you because you never ask. You were appreciative of his gifts and gestures but never dropped any hints for anything.

“Toji, Honey, the best gift you gave me is this life with you, Megumi, and Tsumiki. I don’t think there could be any better gift for me than that.”

God, you were the sweetest, loving, and humbling wife to him. He wonders every day why the hell you chose him out of everyone you could have. But that’s the thing, you never wanted anything else no matter how much he pressed you on. And everytime it’s the same answer. Toji has looked at your phone, pinterest boards, instagram likes, anything you saved in any carts on your favorite websites, photos/screenshots.

Nothing

It frustrated him that he was having a difficult time. He is your husband and the father of your two children who take after you. He was supposed to know your interests, hobbies, and likes. And yet nothing was coming to him. You said you already have everything and don’t buy something for yourself unless you need it and/or use it often. Sometimes reprimanding Toji for buying you things when he should be saving money. Toji knows you’re working overtime today and won't be home until 6:30pm. He has until then to get you something. Walking along streets of Tokyo, he sees the storefronts littered with red, white, and pink. Bakery displays filled with heart shaped pastries and desserts. Toji’s mind was drawing blank, nothing seemed to spark an idea in him. He wanted to get you something because you are and deserve the best, the best thing to ever happen to him. He knows he’s not the ideal man when you both got together but he changed for you. Bringing the world’s end if you simply asked him.

With a frustrated huff, he rubs his forehead. Now seeing himself as the number one most disappointing husband ever. He was tempted to call your friend to ask what he should get you when something caught his eye. Stopping in his tracks, he stares at the window of a jewelry store. Particularly, he was staring at one of their displays which laid a sterling silver necklace with a heart-shape locket. It was both simple yet beautiful. The longer he stares, the image of you wearing it becomes stronger. You would look so perfect wearing it that became you will look perfect wearing it. Toji goes to buy it and the lady helping him asks what photo he wanted to put inside. He immediately pulls up the one he wants, sending it for her. She smiled and said it would take a couple of minutes to get the necklace ready. So Toji wastes no time using that to get your favorite flowers and any baked goods. Coming back, the necklace was ready and he paid it off immediately. Silently thanking Shui for getting him a good cheek from his last assignment.

He briskly makes his way to pick up Tsumiki and Megumi from school where they had their own gifts for you. As soon as they all got home, Toji starts cooking dinner while the kiddos help put the flowers in your favorite vase. On the dot, you got home at 6:30pm. You make your presence known, albeit exhaustedly. The rapid footsteps your way makes you smile as your children rush in to give you a hug. You gently hugged them back before they started pulling towards the kitchen. A soft chuckle left you while watching Megumi and Tsumiki force you to hurry up.

“Hey, Hey~ What is it you two want me to see? Mama is right behind you– What’s this, Toji?”

There was more food on the table than your usual family dinner. Your husband just smirks at you while Megumi pulls your designated chair out for you. You thanked your son with a kiss to his forehead before he sat next to Tsumiki. 

“Just a little something for Valentine’s Day, (Y/N). Wanted to treat you since you worked late.” Toji said with soft eyes, tenderly kissing your cheek.

As always, the food was exquisite and tasted like love was poured into it. The kids ate their dinner fast, confusing you as they scurry off after cleaning up after themselves. When they come back, a loving smile spreads across your lips. Hand placed over your heart as you coo at the sight. Tsumiki was bringing the vase with your favorite flowers while Megumi brought their gifts for you.

“What do we have here? Did you two pick these out with Papa?”

They lightly shook their heads as you placed the vase at the table’s center.

“No, only Papa did. But Megumi and I made these for you, Mama! You can open them!” Tsumiki excitingly with his signature bright smile.

You move towards the couch with the kids as they give your gifts to them. Taking this opportunity, Toji slips away to get his. He sneaks up on you as his towering frame blocks the room’s light. Toji gets on one knee in front of you as he hands you a red bag. Curiously, you take it from him and retrieve the small velvet box from inside. Tsumiki and Megumi lean in to see what it is once you open it, hearing a small gasp from you. The necklace was simple and seemingly plain but it was demure. Taking it out, you let it hang before noticing the small hedges on the side. Your fingers swiftly opened the locket and what’s inside made your heart melt. 

Inside was a family picture of your small family. Everyone was smiling, including your husband. It was one of your favorite pictures because of that. Next to it were words engraved into the inside of the half of the locket. Once you read what’s engraved, tears started to trickle down. The words that brought you to tears:

“Thank you for loving me and being you” ~Toji

You looked up at him with love and appreciation, eyes softening seeing him deflate while taking your hands gently into his. His eyes were unwavering but sincere, already telling you everything you needed to know.

“I know you never ask for much, (Y/N). But I couldn’t help but get it for you. I’m god awful when it comes to words and I’m not the perfect man by any means. But I’m the man you chose to give your heart to and I will bring the Heavens down if you tell me to do so. All because I love you, (Y/N). I’m your husband, I’m all yours, Dear. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

You knew Toji wasn’t the most open man or prince charming by any means. But he was loyal, dedicated, supportive, and endearing. He was a loving husband and father to you and your children, a blessing you were grateful for every day because he gave you this opportunity and you were living it out. For him to speak his heart and leave it vulnerable for you, he really does love and trust you dearly. That’s why you never wanted to ask him for gifts or anything because Toji was a gift to you by some divine intervention.

You launch yourself at Toji, causing him to fall on his back. Wrapping your arms around his neck tightly was all Toji needed to get your answer. He lays there with you in his arms before Megumi and Tsumiki decide to make it a family pile. The kids giggle as he captures them with his strong arms, sitting upright bringing you with him. The kids look in awe at your necklace with Megumi happily commenting that he and Tsumiki are also in there. While the kids are excitingly distracted, you look up at Toji and caress his cheek. Gently tracing over his small scar with your thumb.

“I love you, Toji.”

He gives a soft smile and leans into your touch while grasping your hand with his own.

“I love you too, (Y/N).”

And this is one of many Valentine’s Days to come where you were more than willing to let Toji indulge and spoil you. Every one of them is always wonderful because Toji gets to spend it with the woman he gave his heart to and you are reminded your best gift you ever got was Toji himself.

[sindar-princeling]

The previous post made me think some more about the real life influences on LOTR, so because I’m down with a cold and have a lot of time to spare, I finally wanted to write a coherent post about those comments GRRM made about Aragorn and his tax policy.

For those who haven’t heard the actual quote, here it is:

Tolkien can say that Aragorn became king and reigned for a hundred years, and he was wise and good. But Tolkien doesn’t ask the question: What was Aragorn’s tax policy? Did he maintain a standing army? What did he do in times of flood and famine? And what about all these orcs? By the end of the war, Sauron is gone but all of the orcs aren’t gone – they’re in the mountains. Did Aragorn pursue a policy of systematic genocide and kill them? Even the little baby orcs, in their little orc cradles? In real life, real-life kings had real-life problems to deal with. Just being a good guy was not the answer.

And my god, do I have problems with this approach to Tolkien. It’s kind of like asking why Bilbo was unconscious for a lot of the battle of five armies, when we know it was a story Tolkien was telling his kids before sleep.

When looking at LOTR, I think you can’t not read it as an ultimate escapist fantasy - and what’s most important, Tolkien’s personal escapist fantasy.

He is Frodo - a man born into a middle class family, educated, well-read, with close friends coming from the same “social sphere”, like Merry and Pippin, who died in WWI. Sam is in a very literal sense the batmen Tolkien fought with, which he said he considered “so far superior to myself”.

Tolkien had a few batmen during the war, like the article from my previous post mentions. Most probably because he fought in a few different units, but also, he may have lost some of them to war.

And in LOTR, they all get a happy ending.

Of all four of them, Frodo is the only one who can’t return home, most probably mirroring Tolkien’s trauma. He’s the only one whose ending is grounded in trauma, PTSD, loss. The rest of the hobbits get happy endings - very simple and traditional in a way that after the war was nothing but good - they marry, they have kids, the kids marry each other, everyone is happy and lives long lives.

Sam, especially, gets the happiest ending of all in this sense - he marries a woman he grew up with, he has so many beautiful kids, he is mayor for like seven times and everyone loves him, the Shire thrives.

Tolkien was too traumatised after the war not to write Frodo as a mirror of his experiences. But then he took all the people who fought alongside him, who suffered alongside him, people who he lost, and gave them the happiest fairy tale endings he could think of. And it’s not that Merry, Pippin and Sam weren’t as traumatised - this ending is not meant to belittle their experiences - Tolkien is simply giving them the ending that real life didn’t give them.

Returning to the original point, to Aragorn - it’s just another version of the same mechanism. Gondor was struggling, Gongor had Mordor as their immediate neighbours and was heavily affected by the war as well. And then there came a just, good king, and everything was fine. The end. It’s a subplot of the same fantasy as the hobbits’ endings. It doesn’t matter how hard ruling is, we trust that Aragorn is a good king, because people of Gondor deserve a good king (the people of the real world deserved a good ruler who wouldn’t drag them to war), and we know that Aragorn is an honorable, just man.

Nothing about the LOTR ending - apart from Frodo’s trauma - is meant to be realistic. Why would Tolkien want to write WWI and the aftermath - this time fictional.

[thesecretsofthedivine]

Pick a Pile Reading | What Do People Admire/Find Beautiful About You? ☄. *. ⋆

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PILE 1 COLLECTIVE

7 of pentacles. ace of cups. the magician.

channeled songs: sh-boom - the chords. starstruck - christopher wilde. magic - bob. where you lead - carole king.

people admire how much of a visionary you are! your aesthetic sensitivity, long-term goals, personal values, business skills, creativity, and optimism are some sources of your beauty. people find you to be very physically beautiful in general though. maybe it’s the advice you give or the pleasant sound of your voice, but your charm is undeniable. people also appreciate your unique flare, work ethic, and emotional intelligence. it’s clear you have big dreams and capabilities. something about you is dependable and trustworthy to others. you have tinkering energy and raw talent. people recognize the positive impact you make regardless of the environment. you may often be in a fixer-upper, alchemist, support system, teacher role. people admire your dedication and feel more connected to their dreams/purpose because of you. your energy is healing and uplifting. the sincerity in your heart is a gift and allows others to find hope/relief in you. you’re a trailblazer, philanthropist, humanitarian that does the world good simply by existing and sharing your light. your self-assured outlook is infectious and the way you make life feel like a party is irreplaceable. people admire how much of a safe space and muse you are, tied all into one.

PILE 2 COLLECTIVE

knight of cups. 2 of wands. 9 of wands rx.

channeled songs: perfect (exceeder) - mason. the heart wants what it wants - selena gomez. come & get it - selena gomez.

you are a natural flirt and an object of affection, whether you know it or not! you've got sweetheart/crush/eye candy energy. people love to simply know and be near u. it can be hard to read your mind because of your gentle/feminine/passive nature, which tends to keep the thrill or mystery alive! you're someone that can appear intimidating or too hot to handle, but your inner self is much more reassuring and grounded. people find your resilience, charm, social status, patience, thoughtfulness, style, and mysteriousness to be beautiful. it’s giving hot but unavailable/bad bitch or bad boy. you can be quite protective with your energy/time, which people admire. you know not to settle and to treat yourself like the prize. you often intimidate but intrigue others. cat's got their tongue when they look at you! you embody the beauty standard or simply have that “it” factor. you leave people wanting more and struggling to move on from you. you’re unforgettable and mesmerizing, which is beautiful. you’re like a still and elegant work of art that people would go up to admire in a museum. sometimes it can seem like you're a shiny toy that everyone wants a chance to play with, but you’re not easily impressed.

PILE 3 COLLECTIVE

queen of swords. 5 of wands rx. knight of pentacles. knight of wands.

channeled songs: look at me, i’m sandra dee - grease soundtrack. something that i want - grace potter.

your composure, morality, clear judgment, inner beliefs, and stimulating conversation are really attractive to others! people feel that you have a way with words or a commanding presence without actually exerting force. you’re strategic and wise beyond your years, which makes people want to respect you. others also admire your resilience and thoughtfulness. you can easily find answers to problems or have an unmatched intuition to those around you. you’re in it to win it, which makes u dedicated and passionate. for some, you may relate to the underdog. even with life’s tough challenges, you always persevere. people admire your loyalty & find your mind attractive. you may tend to keep to yourself or people could view you as having a big ego, but your tunnel vision blocks out all that noise. you're admired for the way you defy expectations and others’ authority. you are the boss of your own life and a force to be reckoned with. your identity is a mix of stoic tradition + edgy rebellion, which can surprise people at times. your tenacity, analytical traits, high spirits, and capacity to lead are beautiful. you have natural leadership skills that make people want your approval or loyalty. your aura is dominant and elusive so people know better than to stand in your way or do anything other than tag along for the ride.

PILE 4 COLLECTIVE

8 of swords. 9 of swords. 8 of pentacles. justice (libra).

channeled songs: i’m a mess - bebe rexha. mind over matter - young the giant.

your past, independence, emotional maturity/depth, complex mind, shadow self, and resilience are focal points of attraction. you are a survivor who takes their time in opening up/letting go. people admire the capabilities of your heart and feel a lot of sympathy for you. others may feel that you are too much of a people pleaser or often underestimate/overwork yourself, which makes them want to show up for you. the more reluctant with embracing confidence you are, the more people want to advocate for your potential and growth. others feel like you deserve all the privileges and platforms that you may have been previously denied. you deserve to take up space. people tend to develop a karmic attraction to you where they want to see things through or can’t bring themselves to leave your life. you are hardworking and deserving of everything good, which can enhance other people’s desire to provide and show up for you. if life has not been fair to you, this inspires generosity and admiration in others. people feel protective and want to advocate for you. your fairness and respect for the balance of life is also beautiful. people enjoy how even-tempered, considerate, honest, and reflective you are. they see you as the work hard, play hard type. “went from nothing to something”, apocalyptic energy. you’re on your grind and everyone wants to be a personal cheerleader to you. you fight the good fight and others believe in ur potential because of how beautiful your heart is + how much you’ve overcome. your willpower is also a defining statement/testament of your core identity.

[dramioneasks]

Draco's Birthday (2024)

The Pretense by vinewrappeddragon - M, one-shot - SCANDAL OF THE CENTURY: GRANGER ENSNARES MALFOY IN SORDID LOVE TRAP! War heroine Hermione Granger and former Death Eater Draco Malfoy have shocked the wizarding world by entering into a torrid romance no one saw coming! In an explosive exposé, The Daily Prophet's roving reporters uncovered the unlikely pair's secret affair - complete with candlelit trysts, heated public rows, and a sudden whirlwind engagement that has left tongues wagging across Britain. But is their love the real thing or merely an elaborate ruse to advance their own agendas? The answer may surprise you...and shake the very foundations of our society!

A Long Time Coming by ahuie19 - E, 5 chapters - Nearing both Draco's birthday and their first wedding anniversary, Hermione works on a secret present.

Boring Birthday by AutumnFWoods - E, one-shot - All Draco wants to do, is spend is 30th birthday with his new girlfriend, his friends have other ideas.

It’s My Party (I’ll Cry If I Want To) by magicalsydney (magicandmanuscripts) - G, one-shot - Draco Malfoy having a no good birthday party until his wife gives him his favorite gift to date.

Emerald Green Ribbon by Ashabadash - E, one-shot - Draco was simply trying to have a productive day at work, but apparently, that's too much to ask when the day in question is also his birthday. or Draco receives a surprise package for his birthday and now he can't focus on anything else.

Twisted Affairs by itsnotpomegranate - E, one-shot - Draco Malfoy prided himself on being an individual that didn’t believe in absolutes, at least, not anymore. However, there were two things he was absolutely positive about. Number one, he hated the day of his birth with passion. He hated celebrating the bloody date. Nothing good ever happened (were it not the day of his birth). But what really consolidated the bad omen of the 5th of June was the fact that he had become a death eater that same day. From then onwards, Draco preferred to forget the date completely and if he never had to celebrate his birthday again, he’d be a happy wizard. Number two, he was not at all deserving of the love of the one and only, Hermione Granger. (Not a hard deduction really, being that he was a former death eater and she the fucking Golden Girl.) So, it came with no surprise, albeit with considerable loads of pain, that on the day of his 29th birthday, his girlfriend was going to end things up with him. It was worse than that, actually. He knew she was having an affair with another.

Of Piercings and Perversions by vinewrappeddragon - E, 2 chapters - no summary

Draco Malfoy's Correct Comportment for Courting by multiimoments - E, one-shot - Three times Draco was a gentleman and one time he wasn't.

She Put a Bow On It by MissusB - E, one-shot - Draco hated the attention. There was only one exception and this wasn’t it. Still, Blaise had conjured a birthday party out of his arse faster than Draco could tell him not to bother. --- OR Blaise throws Draco a birthday party to get him and Hermione back together because they're both pining idiots who refuse to just say so.

Happy Birthday, Old Man by Biirdiee_Rose - E, one-shot - Draco can't help but feel old after not being able to party like he used to. His darling wife decides to cheer him up with a little birthday treat.

hummingbird heartbeat by riddikulus_puff - E, one-shot - “You give me that hummingbird heartbeat. Spread my wings and make me fly.”

Pizza Puns & Granger's Buns by peoniesandcedarwood - E, one-shot - The one where Draco delivers more than just pizza to a hungry Hermione.

Gold Around The Edges by mysterydragonss - not rated, one-shot - Draco knows he won't get the one thing he really wants for his birthday, and makes it everyone else's problem. Who said long distance was a good idea again? *** He’d been dating Hermione Granger for three years, seven months, and fifteen days (not that he was counting), but he hadn’t physically seen her in over a year. She’d been offered the job of a lifetime, researching rare creatures in the deepest darkest parts of the Amazon, and he’d actively encouraged her to go, even if that had been akin to carving out an organ. He’d been selfish for a lot of his life, and had been working on it. He would never understand why people raved about being ‘good’ so often, it was tiring, painful, and made him want to break things.

Alone Together by PotionChemist - E, WIP - On Draco Malfoy's fortieth birthday, he receives an unexpected lunch invitation. He finds himself in a complicated situation with the Minister for Magic and her ex-husband.

[apocalypseornaw]

Love You Better (Pt 4/5)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Dean finally sees what him pulling away has done to you.

Warnings: cursing, mention of sex?

A/N : next part is the finale and nothing but smut and fluff. Just FYI

You'd already talked to Sam and to Charlie, whatever was going on with Dean wasn't anything to do with the poison from the Djinn. With no other option you decided to call Jax.

You were in the library, your feet pulled under you in a chair as you talked to him on the phone. "Did anything else happen? He's still acting off and it's worrying me. If something happens to him...I don't know what I'd do Jax" "Nothing besides the Djinn, what's going on if you don't mind me asking?" You let out a breath unsure if you should be talking to your ex about your relationship problems. "He's just not acting like Dean should"

Jax as always seemed to know when to stop pushing because he simply said "Y/N, you love Dean don't you?" You closed your eyes because Dean didn't even know that yet and you didn't want to admit it to Jax. At your silence he chuckled "The way you look at him is your tell honey" you laughed lightly "Ok so you already know the answer to the question so why ask it?"

He tsk tsked then said "Easy killer. I'm just saying I've known you for years. You love Dean and from the way he looks at you he loves you. Do what you do best, dig your heels in and fight. Tell him how you feel and maybe then when your cards are out and on the table he'll let you in about whatever he's dealing with" you laughed more from shock of Jax saying something so deep than anything before asking "When did you get so smart" you could hear the grin in his voice before he said "Oh come on now we all have our moments"

He had to go after that because Alicia and Max got to his place so he had to help them. You sat staring at the phone, trying to form a gameplan on how to talk to Dean.

Dean stood under the hot water feeling it beat his sore muscles into submission. Every inch of his body was tense. He wasn't sleeping well and days weren't better. A flash of the sounds you made with Jax went through his mind but this time it was replaced by an image you under him instead. He could nearly feel your fingernails cutting into his shoulders, hear you moan his name.

What was he doing letting some Djinn dream come between you? Yeah he was worried that maybe you'd end up deciding you wanted more than him, that you'd tuck tail and run but he was also taking that choice away from you by not talking to you.

He may not have the business like Jax or the house or even halfway mental stability but he loved you. With every ounce of his being he fucking loved you. He'd fight heaven and hell to earn you another day living. He knew every inch of your body better than any other man you'd ever been with. He knew how to make you fall apart time and again, how to bring you higher than any other lover ever had. You were his dammit and if he lost you it wouldn't be because he hadn't tried to keep you.

--------------

Once he was dried he just slipped on boxers and sleep pants before going in search of you. Enough was enough he could concentrate on the real world, who's name you were really moaning and who you were really underneath. He could show you that he could love you better and he could prove it.

When he got to your shared bedroom he expected to find you waiting on him, maybe reading or listening to music but when he opened the door instead he found the room empty. Shit.

His heart dropped to his stomach. Where were you? You'd said you were going to bed. He knew your favorites rooms were the library, the TV room or the shooting range. Your gun was on the dresser and your favorite blanket was on the bed so that marked off the TV room or the shooting range. Library it was.

When he started to walk past the kitchen he saw the light was on so he stopped wondering if it was you or Sam then he heard a sound that shattered his heart, you sniffling. He eased to the door and found you sitting at the table, your favorite mug that had little black cats all over it in front of you.

You were staring blankly into the cup and apparently hadn't heard him come in. God, had he done this? Had he gotten so lost in his own head he hadn't realized what it was going to you? "Sweetheart?"

-------------

You'd been laying in bed, thinking about how to start the conversation with Dean but no matter how it went in your head that little voice always managed to interfere. The little voice that said "Lisa never made him doubt his feelings" "He's never had no problems fucking one night stands" "Dean's a man who knows what he wants and apparently that's not you"

When tears threatened to come you threw the blankets off and quickly left the room. Your feet found you in the kitchen in front of the cabinet that held the bourbon. You knew that wasn't a good idea so instead you went for some tea Alicia had sent you. It was supposed to help you calm down.

----------

You'd tried to fight off the what ifs the entire time you made the cup but once you sat down at the table they all came crashing down. This wasn't like you, you didn't cry easy but this distance with Dean? It was slowly ripping your heart out. You'd never felt about anyone the way you felt about Dean.

You saw tears hit the surface of the tea and hadn't even realized you were crying yet. You sniffled, trying to remain as quiet as possible in case Sam got up. You hadn't heard anyone in the hall so when Dean's voice hit your ears you jumped hard enough you nearly spilled the tea "Dean?"

----------

Dean walked over to the table, standing about a foot from you so you turned to look up at him "What's wrong Y/N?" You let out a watery laugh as more tears started to fall "You tell me Dean. What is wrong? I've tried now for two weeks to get you to talk to me, to kiss me, to touch me but I keep getting turned down. I love you and I don't even feel like that's enough"

His heart flipped hearing those words come from you. You loved him? Your eyes were cast downward refusing to meet his "I've never felt like this for someone Dean" he crossed the space between you kneeling in front of where you sat. He reached out to touch your face gently, tilting it up so you had to meet his eyes. He used his thumb to wipe the tears away "Y/N..." he trailed off at the look in your eyes. Every word he had was swallowed by the overwhelming urge to kiss you, to show you just how much he craved you, needed you.

---------

The moment his lips met yours you melted against him. A small sob escaped you and he swallowed it hungrily as your hands slid up around his neck, fingers tangling in the short hair there. One hand was at your neck holding your head in place while the other found your hip pulling you almost off the chair and into his lap, when you pulled away to catch your breath he moved to your neck kissing every inch of flesh his mouth could find "I love you" he spoke against your skin repeating it like a prayer.

You pulled back to look at him and god that look, he'd do anything you asked of him as long as you looked at him like that. "You do?" You asked and the uncertainty in your voice hurt him to his core. He nodded pulling you back into another kiss before saying "We'll talk later but for now please sweetheart let me make it up to you, let me show you just how much I want you. Please"

You couldn't help the whimper that escaped you. Dean Winchester was on his knees telling you that he loved you and begging you to let him show you just how much. "Take me to our room Dean" was all it took and he was pulling you to your feet, crashing his lips against yours in a kiss that made your head swim and heat flood between your thighs. Fuck, you'd missed him.

@marimarvelfan @suckitands33 @sushiumex @janineb86 @nix-rose @ladysparkles78 @globetrotter28 @holdingontil-may @freewastelandstrawberry @jackles010378 @stillhere197 @cat-loves-music @marvelfanfn2187a113 @that1nerd-20 @foxyjwls007 @5tud10-54r4h @tas898

[wing-ed-thing]

Tobirama Mentorship Headcanons

Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns

𓆃 One of those old school hard-asses who you think is going to be really hard on you, but is surprisingly patient, a great teacher, and is overall just sort of awkward.

𓆃 Out of all the mentors you could choose, Tobirama definitely isn't the popular choice. After all, Hashirama is far more charismatic (and hokage) and Madara, as standoffish as he is, offers a mysterious promise for great power.

𓆃 Tobirama is a surprising mix of technique and unexpected charisma. While more aloof and serious at first, you can count on Tobirama to simply be absolutely excellent at teaching.

𓆃 He somehow understands where the hold-ups happen and offers great advice on bypassing learning difficulties. He'll always have you try the hard technique first, making you accomplish that before he gives you the "shortcut version."

𓆃 "Do you see how much simpler making that one adjustment was?" he'll ask, knowing well his techniques work, "Compare that to the traditional method. It cuts the work in half."

𓆃 Very attached to the phrase, "Work smarter" with a great insistence that it "does not mean cutting corners!"

𓆃 Tobirama is extremely perceptive and has a large range of knowledge of different jutsu and types which he throws into mental calculations to understand where your hang-ups may be.

𓆃 He almost annoyingly leaves you to figure things out before he gives you the answer. Tobirama is trying to train you to think multi-dimensionally about your jutsu so that you can be creative in solving your own problems.

𓆃 Not only is he extremely smart, but he's great at communicating. You won't get clearer instructions from any other instructor and never makes you feel bad about asking questions.

𓆃 He takes each one seriously and puts significant thought into his answers.

𓆃 Tobirama isn't very charismatic off the bat. Instead, he has a perpetual resting angry face that makes him rather unapproachable.

𓆃 It's important to know that his expressions are subtle and are off this RBF base. He has no idea that he's making a sour, judgmental face most of the time.

𓆃 He's actually very dorky and will try to say things to relate to you, only to fail on the execution.

𓆃 From pathetic dad jokes that don't really make sense to "so... what kind of kunai do you carry?" he's not really good at socializing with his students when he's trying.

𓆃 Tobirama, however, loves pranks. He loves getting into hijinks so he'll end up being this "kind of cool mentor" by letting you into restricted areas and the like.

𓆃 He'll wear this little smirk because he's trying to act like he doesn't know what he's doing, but he loves that he's working with his students to play funnies on other people.

𓆃 Along with his awkward communication, Tobirama can frequently say very harsh things without realizing it. Being on the more "logical side," he doesn't often think about the connotations of the things he says.

𓆃 Tobirama is overall a really great choice for a mentor! While your beginning may be bumpy, you get the best of both worlds. You get to have a serious education and learn powerful new jutsu from a legendary shinobi who really treats you like family.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: You would not believe how hard it's been to get good Tobirama panels let me tell you—

[marloree]

  Your lovely guitarist (Part 2!)

Pairing: Guitarist! Student! Beomgyu x Reader

Genre: university au, series

Word count: 0.45 k

Summary: you're studying at university and living your mundane life, that is, until you meet Beomgyu. What will it lead to? Only time can tell.

Semester exams, or ways to deal with anxiety

The next day came and so did the exams.

You've been sitting down in the hallways, tapping your foot on the floor as you waited for the professor to ask you to come in. That was when you noticed Beomgyu from your peripheral vision sitting down just a bench away from you. He didn't seem so anxious as you were. To tell the truth, he didn't seem anxious at all.

"Does he really not feel nervous or is it all just an act?" you thought to yourself when suddenly an idea crossed your mind. No, it was almost an urge to come and talk to him. Your mouth opened to form words, almost involuntarily.

"Hey, how do you cope with stress so well?" you asked out loud. Seems like your brain decided to act up for you if you couldn't bring yourself to do it on your own accord.

You saw Beomguy's head turn into your direction.

"I just found my own ways to relax and get rid of stress", the guy answered calmly, his gaze wandering to the window for a moment before settling on your face.

"Oh, is playing the guitar one of them?" you grinned subtly.

"Ah, so you noticed?" he rose an eyebrow for a second in surprise before turning all smiles. "It is, indeed."

You nodded, "You seem to play so peacefully, as if there are no problems in the world at all."

"When I play, all the problems truly leave my mind", Beomgyu confirmed. "Playing and composing has calmed me for years now, you know".

"Oh, so you compose as well?" another question escaped from you, this time his words leaving you wonder if he was some kind of genius. He seemed capable of doing anything and everything, really.

"I could play you a few of my songs sometime if you want to", the guy suggested, giving you just the perfect opportunity to get closer.

"I'd love to", you replied simply, but genuinely as your lips formed a small smile.

"Miss Y/N, you may come in", a voice behind you sounded, indicating your turn to go into the examination room.

A look of worry crossed your face as the smile disappeared, your expression revealing all the anxieties you tried to overcome. You slowly got up, turning your back to Beomgyu as you began walking into the classroom.

Suddenly you felt someone's hand tap your shoulder as a gentle voice came just from behind you.

"Take it easy, Y/N. I'm sure you'll do just great," once Beomgyu's hot breath hit your neck, you felt your knees get only more shaky.

"I will, thank you", you muttered, walking into the classroom as the door shut behind your back.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Many artists are wary of AI. I've been using Chat Gpt and come to the realization that with my kids, school and other life obligations I need to use AI in my writing process. No, I'm NOT using the AI's writing or passing it on as mine. It's for plotting, character arcs and to help me get over writers block. I'm conflicted. I just don't have the time to write that I wish I did. :( if I use AI am I not a real writer?

Using AI as a Writer

I want to preface this by saying that we are quite literally in the Wild West when it comes to AI and how it fits into the creative world. The technology is still evolving. The legalities of use are still evolving. Public sentiment and codes of ethics are still evolving... the only definitive answer I can give on the topic of using AI in writing is that you should never use it to write all or part of your story.

Using AI as a tool to help you think through plot problems, flesh out character arcs, and move past story road blocks in and of itself is something many writers and writer organizations have embraced. You're still doing the actual writing, plotting, character arc design, etc. yourself.

However, if you're using AI to generate your entire plot, characters, character arc, etc., it gets into a bit of a gray area for me. Yes, you're still doing the actual writing, but are you a landscape painter if you only do paint by number? I'm not sure. Yes, you're technically moving the brush and making the strokes, but your brain didn't imagine the imagery and your skills didn't know what colors to use or where to put the shadows. So I'm not sure where that leaves writing. And my bigger concern is that you're not putting in the work to improve your craft, so you may get stories or books out there, but you don't have the writing skills to back them up.

What I can tell you is this: people still write when they have kids, and jobs, and school, and various other responsibilities and dependents. They may only write for twenty minutes a day, or once a week for an hour, but they find the time. And some don't... some put off writing until the kids are older or the other obligations let up... either route is fine. I guess what I'm saying is I don't think not having time or energy is a good excuse for using AI or over-relying on it. But, I also don't think you should feel bad if you're simply using it as a tool to help flesh out your own thoughts and ideas. ♥

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[afra-blueraz]

🦋 Admin analysis:

Can vampires love someone else other than Yui? (Did they fall in love with someone before Yui? Can they fall in love with someone else after Yui?)

Well, first, I will give the shortest possible answer to this question. No, they can't fall in love with anyone after Yui, or there was no one they loved before Yui.

But first, let me give you a reason for my answer. First, let's examine the question further.

Can they fall in love with another person after Yui? Well, the answer to this question is simply no. But why? Let me remind you that vampires fall in love only once and this is a statement made by themselves and even proven by themselves, but how? Remember when Yui died they lost their mental health due to the tragedy and vampires went crazy and decided to join her after death by committing suicide. This simply shows their loyalty to their lover, but let's mention some proofs.

One of the simplest examples is daylight CD, which almost 90% of the boys decided to join her after Yui's death.

Bad endings in many games where when Yui dies they join her by committing suicide.

All these examples show that they don't even give themselves a chance to live after Yui, so they simply don't want to love anyone after her. So they can never fall in love with anyone else after Yui.

Translation: /@dialovers-translations

Was there someone they were in love with before Yui? Well, the answer to this question is no. Why? The answer is completely evident in the previous answer. If they had real and pure love for someone before Yui, they would have had a mental problem with their death or losing them and decided to commit suicide again. If their love for a person is real, they see the world as empty and meaningless without their beloved, and they have no motivation to continue living, especially vampires who have eternal life and death is simple to them. So if they are alive now, it's because they never had romantic feelings for anyone before Yui.

But what about Laito and Ruki? Was it shown in the game that they had a girlfriend? What do you think? I don't call Laito and Ruki's former relationship love since both of them admitted that those girls were just prey and nothing more. Both Ruki and Laito have only used the blood of those girls.

But not all diaboys are virgins. So it means they have experienced sex. The answer to this question is simpler. Because you don't have to be in love with someone for sex. Sex is only to satisfy sexual needs.

How about the Mukamis? Those who have never been vampires for all their life to fall in love just once like vampires. Yes, Mukamis were not vampires. But they became vampires when they were children, and their childhood was not an age where they could understand love like an adult. So this means that Mukamis have not fallen in love even when they were human.

Does this mean vampires never fall in love? No, this is completely wrong. Vampires can fall in love, but the past and experience that these boys have had, especially in relation to women, makes them not know how to fall in love. This is why they have never been in love before Yui. It may be bitter for some to accept this fact, but the main point is that they only fall in love once and loyalty to their lover is something that is special about vampires, that's why they can't fall in love after Yui. Or they simply can't love anybody else other than Yui.

This analysis is by checking games and CDs. If you have any other opinion, I will be happy to share it with me.