#[[ and opening to indies again .. just bc

[indi-glo-archive]

one thing i've noticed lately that I don't think I can talk about on my actual fandom sideblog (yet) is the fact that i'm just having a fundamentally different fandom experience to what I think the majority of people in fandom are

A lot of people focus on shipping over everything else. Like, "I don't care about realism or good plot or character consistency or anything that really makes a show good, I just want my two faves to kiss" levels of focusing on shipping. It's like instead of caring about the actual show or even those actual characters, they choose to focus on their relationship instead.

A couple examples of this are the 9-1-1 drama that's going on rn. I don't watch that show but from what I've seen it's a great example of this. and, imo, people's opinions on Simon/Daphne from Bridgerton s1 are heavily influenced by wanting the ship over anything else. I think Simon's reasoning for not wanting children is perfectly ok reasoning to have. If he doesn't want to have kids or get married to spite his dad, if he chooses to ignore love to avoid those things, then that's his choice! It's not pathetic or goofy or negative at all for him to make a choice and stick to it, and it certainly isn't something he needs to get corrective SA'd about unless you just want to see him and Daphne fuck and you care more about that than them as characters.

idk. it makes fandom feel really shallow for me, someone who enjoys meta with depth and nuance more than mindless shipping at any cost. I already knew the overwhelming bigotry made it pretty shallow, but the shipping-only mindset adds another level to it. It's just not something I personally enjoy very much

[willfool]

Will, where have you been ?

Where’s Tanya ?

[theinfinitedivides]

watching a movie about a sport you know nothing about can be the definition of vibing without comprehension and i experienced that today

[toxiclittlethoughts]

open to: anybody/everybody | plot: cal has been bar hopping on vaca, ur muse can be the one following her, one of her friends who overheard her, someone on the street/from the bar, whatever floats your boat. can be something platonic, simple, sweet, dark as absolute fuck, there’s no wrong choice in this choose your own adventure situation. 

“-- can you stop?” calista spat out as she whipped her shoulder back once she stepped onto the sidewalk; the person behind her having shown up at every bar she’d been at that evening. she’d been on a girls trip with some of her closed friends; a rare occasion where the blonde was meant to do nothing more than enjoy herself as they drank their way down the boardwalk that was lined with different bars and venues, something for every mood and every one of her friends. while most of them were pleasantly hammered calista was down right paranoid, having noticed the other earlier in the evening and at every location they’d wandered into that night. the alcohol in her system making her just bold enough to speak up when she noticed them following just a few feet behind her when she went to step outside for air.

“if you’re going to follow a group of girls around all night you should work on your discretion, asshole.” 

[lethalitisms]

It had whispered to him things about himself which he did not know . . . and the whisper had proved irresistibly fascinating. It echoed loudly within him because he was hollow at the core. It was written that I should be loyal to the nightmare of my choice.

Isola affiliated Eddie Brock & Venom Symbiote as seen in Marvel Earth-616. Indie friendly. 18+ only. Canon-typical violence may be present. Spawned by Kriss ( he/him, 21 ). Please read rules prior to interaction, thank you!

This is a love story.

PERM STARTER CALL + APP + STATS + READING LIST + RULES . . .

CURRENT GROUP EVENT + SYMBIOTE LORE

This is an Isola Radiale affiliated blog, but I am open to writing with indies. I will interact with those not within the group, but the group will take priority. You may also find me on my ( super low activity ) multimuse! All group threads are tagged #phenethylamine ᯓ threads and non-group threads will be #non isola

On that note, I will write only from the canon point I'm writing in ( or before it ). This helps me to maintain an overall mental flow, because jumping back and forth between verses can be a bit much. To check the current canon point, check the app or reading list! Anything from before the current canon point is fine for indies, but for group members ( for obvious reasons ) I usually drop all group threads once I update my canon point

I typically respond in paragraph / novella length and format my replies with small text, 65x65px icons, and bold dialogue. If you need me to change this to make it easier to read, you can DM me if it’s not listed anywhere in your page.

I use stylized brackets to indicate who is talking and whether or not other muses can hear them. These 「 squared brackets 」 indicate that the symbiote is speaking exclusively to Eddie within his mind, these ╭ half-brackets ╮ indicate that Eddie is speaking to the symbiote exclusively within his mind, and these ⸨ doubled brackets ⸩ indicate them speaking as Venom out loud. Usual "quotation marks" are when Eddie is speaking normally out loud.

Random starters are epic, please don’t be afraid to spontaneously interact with me- especially if we’ve never written together before. I’m here to have fun with all of you guys. If I follow you, then that means I want to interact!

If you’re unfamiliar with the source lore but want to know more, you are absolutely free to ask me about it! The Marvel 616 comics has a very long history and I am very much a yapper at heart over these two.

If you’re interested in shipping with Eddie and/or the symbiote (romantic / platonic / familial / rival / etc) then please let me know. Let’s build connnections n stuff :] I always love a bit of networking between the muses. The symbiote has no real sexuality ( as the species knows it, at least ) and Eddie is . . . in love with an alien already. But who knows! Could get interesting with the right chemistry. . .

My timezone is GMT+8 and my sleep schedule is fucked. So basically, I’m just online whenever.

I prefer to queue most of my things. Replies, starters, etc. I like to respond really fast but also not worry if I’m clogging everything up on the dash with it. 

Hi, I'm Kriss! He/him, 21, Muslim Malaysian. You might recognize this url from, geez, five years ago? Yeah, I dropped muse after First Host but now I'm back because I got that brainrot in me. I have a bunch of other ( also affiliated ) blogs but this is the only one that's indie friendly . . . you're free to check them out too ! I write Silverhand, Wick, Volo, and Nate when I'm not gooping it up in here.

[saeist]

my personal touya headcanons (yes i will make full on fics n drabbles with these in mind):

CHRONIC manspreader. literally takes up a whole love couch with the way he spreads his legs

can drive but gets motion sick easily so counting on him for a 2+ hour roadtrip? yeah pull over we’re switching seats

damaged hair from the constant dyeing but that won’t stop this baddie from dyeing it jet black every 2 weeks

only runs on 4 separate hours of sleep and snores like a truck. (u’ll need earplugs)

surprisingly tidy in regards to his room only because rei comes and checks their rooms and if its all messy they’ll get their asses whooped

doesn’t smoke cigarettes BUT has a box of disposables/juuls hidden in his sock drawer (GOD FORBIDS rei finds his stash)

^ in addition to that, contrary to popular belief his plug is unironically natsuo..

loves icy berry related related flavors too LMFAO

is supposed to be a junior in college on paper but since he keeps dropping and switching majors, he’s technically still a freshman

^ is currently taking chemical engineering (took business ad, computer science, finance, nursing (💀) and literally god knows what. his college majors that he dropped is between him, endeavor and god now)

since he’s competitive as fuck and is a perfectionist, took up multiple sports and extra curriculars growing up

prefers soggy cereal

drinks a lot but lightweight as fuck. after one bottle he’s out �� but that won’t stop him from drinking more!

knows how to braid girls hair thanks to fuyumi

cats warm up to him on the street cus he’s warm n shit

prettiest resting face but makes the ugliest faces known to man just for the sake of it (still pulls)

doesn’t approach girls, girls approach him

scares them away when he’s all like 😐🧍🏻

hooded eyelids + long eyelshes (both top and bottom)

genuinely starts tweaking when people say he got endeavor’s eyes solely bc hes a momma’s boy..

grew up being SPOILED rotten amongst his siblings so he doesn’t take no for an answer and will actually start stomping his feet

once he opens his mouth however.. everyone is gonna know he’s endeavors son fr 😓

keigo is his closest irl friend but tomura is who he considers as his best friend even if they’re only internet friends

has a basic pc set up and plays valorant fortnite and roblox religiously

shits on children especially shoto and his two friends

once babysat the three of them in exchange for concert tickets

did i mention he has an indie rock emo band he formed when he was in high school? yeah

bassist obviously but sometimes he plays drums

will scare rei out of her wits when he would just magically appear on their couch when he’s supposed to be at his university

his room is in the attic

dresses like hes going to an opium concert but rei makes him change before they leave to go to church so ultimately he dresses up like a cottagecore mf but with piercings and box dye jet black hair

almost broke natsuo’s hand when he first got his nose piercing

embodies the trope of “best friends older brother”

has a soft spot for grandmas and will help them cross the road each time

picks up shoto from school with his beat up hand me down car. literally one slam on the break away from breaking (endeavor gave it to him as his 18th birthday present)

sometimes ends up driving shoto’s friends home too if shoto insists (more like demands)

will also intentionally go through a drive-thru and the kids in the backseat are expecting him to ask them what they want but touya just gets whatever the fuck he was craving, pays and leaves

“we got food at home!” - touya to a enraged shoto

also sometimes touya is shoto’s chaperone or the “parent” that goes to those parent teacher meetings when its time for get shotos report card and will deliberately say shoto has failing grades when shoto is part of the honor roll just to again, fuck with him

shamelessly flirts with the girls natsuo brings home just to fuck with him (he gets sucker punched later that night bc at the end of the day, natsuo is bigger than that man 😭)

when all the todosibs are fighting, nobody listens to him even if he’s the eldest. they all end up ganging up on him (fuyumi doesn’t stop shit, in fact she instigates further. she don’t play)

says he hates winter and likes summer more but whenever its summer time if he could he would live inside the freezer

hates the feeling of sweating 😮‍💨

sometimes goes on days without showering only popping a lil deodorant here and there so rei forces him to shower whenever he just so happened to pass by her

cooks decent meals but shoto hates it and intentionally makes gagging noises whenever he finds out touya was in charge of cooking that night

hates doing the dishes and fools shoto into doing it for him

when he goes on dates, he steals endeavors credit card and just pays for everything. will probably even take you to nobu just to do so

attempts to blame natsuo when endeavor caught on since his card decline at the supermarket but unfortunately touya cannot lie to save his own life even if he tried

OH! talks MAD game in bed but has never touched a woman in his life.. painfully a virgin. u have to teach this man PLEASEE 🙏

likes yeat and carti

basically teenager borderline adult core

[acozysoulwrites]

If your taking requests for Ken could you write reader being from the real world and meeting Ken.

Helping him find who he is and just being very nice to him making him fall in love with her. And if it isn't too much maybe she asks him if he wants to match outfits and that becoming there thing. Just Ken finding out that he doesn't have to be just Barbie's accessory

Helping Ken find himself | HC’s + drabble!

I put this into a two parter of Headcanons and a short drabble! I love this idea so much it’s so adorable I hope you enjoy this!

‹𝟹 After realizing that he is more than ‘just Ken’, he decides to venture to the real world (again) to find out who he is.

‹𝟹 He meets you there, and insists that you come back to Barbie Land with him after you two hit it off.

‹𝟹 You’re the nicest person he’s ever met, you never talk over him, you always share your thoughts with him, and you genuinely love his company.

‹𝟹 Ken isn’t used to this, and he often gets overwhelmed.

‹𝟹 This means he often smiles so much his face hurts, or he’s teary eyed.

‹𝟹 He often fascinatingly admires you while you speak, he will rest his head in his hands and smile at you with heart eyes.

‹𝟹 The first time he opened up to you about how he didn’t know who he was without Barbie (or anyone to base his personality off of) he cried.

‹𝟹 He leaned into you and let you rub his back while he spoke and whimpered through words.

‹𝟹 That was the first night he spent over at your place. (or anyone’s place for that matter)

‹𝟹 The next morning, you made him breakfast (something he’d never had done for him before)

‹𝟹 “What’ll it be?” you asked him when he woke up.

‹𝟹 He frowned. “uh…” a smile shyly made its way onto his face. “Brownies” He said confidently. It was an odd request, but you knew not to question it.

‹𝟹 (btw, he discovers that he really likes brownies)

‹𝟹 You help him find his music taste.

‹𝟹 He loves 80’s indie and Taylor Swift.

‹𝟹 One day, Ken comes to you with a bouquet of flowers. “Hey y/n” he breathes, a huge smile on his face as he hides his hand behind his back.

‹𝟹 He confessed his feelings for you that day, and you returned them … (bc how could you not?)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

(and now, a short thing i wrote where Ken asks if you can match outfits!)

The wind blows the curtains of your cottage. Barbie Land was truly a beautiful place to live. Though you had to make a few adjustments as a human living here, you managed.

Ken was coming over today, the two of you were traveling to the real world to visit your family (something you did together often).

You get up and get dressed; a t-shift with mushrooms and a pair of shorts. Soon, you hear someone at your door, smiling to yourself at the pattern of the knock. It was Ken, the two of you made up a secret knocking pattern (It was his idea) He claimed it would be “Super cool” of you if you agreed.

You open your door and Ken rushes in, he’s wearing a plaid shirt and jeans and you can’t help but check him out as he passes you.

“So I was thinking-“

“Oh boy” you tease.

Ken ignores you and begins toward the stairs leading up to your bedroom.

“What if… we match outfits before we go? It could be like… our thing if you want” he says shyly, a pleading smile plastered on his face.

You chuckle at his enthusiasm and nod. “Sure Ken, that sounds cute” You say, following him to your room.

“Great! I was thinking…. cowboys?”

You open your mouth to speak but he cuts you off.

“AND cowgirls…” he corrects himself.

You laugh. “Perfect”

[ddejavvu]

it’s dbf!indy anon and I finally had a thought!!!

looking at old photos of your dad and indy with dbf!indy, and just being like “wow I would’ve smashed younger you” or “you’ve just gotten more handsome with age” or like, subtly flirting and he’s trying so hard to not flirt back bc he’s still trying to forget that he finds you attractive

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

this post is 18+ (due to an age gap), minors dni.

Your dad seems to have been a whole other person before he'd settled down with your mom. You've never seen this side of him before, the cocky young man pictured beside Dr. Jones at a dig site, squinting into the sun and marred with dirt. Now he's neat, proper, and wouldn't spent days at a dig site if he was offered millions of dollars.

Dr. Jones is even more jarring to look at. There's a layer of rugged scruff on his face in the picture, his shirt hanging half open over his chest and sweat lining his brow. His sleeves are torn off in the photos, probably due to the sweltering heat they're working in, though you wonder if having his skin exposed left him vulnerable to sunburns. He doesn't look burnt, only gorgeously tanned, and you marvel over the man he used to be.

"That's you?" You ogle at a shot of him standing atop a carrier plane, lugging crates of god knows what into the hold. The cut-off sleeves give you a fantastic view of the muscles in his arms bulging while he lifts the boxes, and you only wish you'd have been there in person to avoid the slightly grainy quality to the film. It's a precarious position he's in, one that you wouldn't expect from the proper professor beside you.

"That's me," He drawls, "You like my hair?"

It's not combed, laying fluffy and natural over his forehead. There's a hat hanging from his belt, and you're surprised it hadn't messed up the strands of hair that flop so naturally over his head.

"it's different," You laugh, turning to face him. He'd been peering over your shoulder to see the pictures you're looking at, so when you turn, you're rather close. He doesn't move away, though, not even as you study him with a discerning gaze.

"You're proper-handsome now." You decide, "The gelled hair, the glasses, the suits-and-ties. But you used to be rugged-handsome." You flip to the next page, showcasing him caught sleeping against a load of cargo in the tiny plane.

You're too focused on the photos to notice him watching you, jaw working to tighten his lazy grin so that it doesn't turn upside down. He's fighting an internal battle, he knows he shouldn't be attracted to you but he is, and he can't decide whether he'll allow himself to accept your compliments or not.

"See?" You point to his posture, toned arms stretched up and over his head, his hat over his face to block out the sun, "That's a picture they'd put in one of those super-sexy firefighter-of-the-month calendars. The muscles, the open shirt, the thighs on display..." You muse, tracing over each feature you name.

He's torn. You're complimenting him, openly, brazenly. He knows he's not taking advantage of you, you're coming to him, but something about it seems so forbidden that he almost can't respond. But he's well-acquainted with danger, with the exhilaration of doing something he shouldn't, so he lets a chuckle escape, "Yeah? You think I'd make it as a sexy firefighter?"

"Oh, for sure," You nod, like you think you're reassuring his insecurities, "Just lose the shirt and swap it for suspenders, Indy, you'd fit right in."

"Really," He marvels your bold nature, unable to stop from laughing again, "Well sweetheart, maybe you 'oughta take the pictures for me. Pose me, oil me up, that sorta thing."

"Deal," You grin, turning back to face him again, still not backing away from your tantalizingly close proximity, "Should I bring socks to stuff your crotch with?"

"No need," Indiana assures you, his drawl never having been cockier, "I've got that covered myself, sweetheart."

[abominable-space-they]

Another Au centered around music & punk Steve(sorta) bc of Steddie twt talking abt switching it up to celebrity Steve & just some guy Eddie.

I do love a good trope reversal

Underground Metal Eddie x (pop)punk Steve

Eddie working at a guitar shop that mostly catered to metal & hard rock musicians with a preference for a certain crunchy sound.

Since he was into a very specific niche of gay power & thrash metal, Eddie didn't know Steve was a pop punk star when they meet

He knew who Stevie Dynamite was, of course he did, everyone did. He knew that the guy debuted at 15, was supposed to be some musical genius who could play any instrument.

Eddie remembered the early songs because they were so personal, haunting little folk proto punk songs w/ a glam pop edge about identity, isolation, & loneliness. They weren't his thing but they were better then the usual radio fare.

Three years later after a series of salacious magazine spreads, notoriously explosive deals with several different make-up and high end hair care lines, more scandals then you could count, public partying, public meltdowns, cancelled shows, article after article abt the King of Pop Rock losing his touch, a mediocre album full of bubble gum party till you drop songs, and open speculation abt the nature of his relationship with indie pop darling Birdie (but Eddie knows that's not what ppl think it is. Her music is wall to wall barely subtle sapphic yearning, if there's one thing he knows it's gay subtext)

The rumors got louder & more dramatic until, five years after he rocketed to superstardom Stevie Dynamite publicly sued his label & parents for control of his image & brand.

He won

Then he quietly disappeared.

Thus was the end of the bigger then life legend of Stevie Dynamite

So when Steve Harrington walked into the guitar store on some lazy Monday afternoon while Eddie was sitting behind the counter working on a song in his downtime. He had no idea who Steve was.

When the unknown hot guy in a Violent Femmes hoodie & a plain black beanie struck up a conversation about Eddie's lyrics he thought Steve was just another life long grind musician wanting to talk shop

When the guy introduced himself as Steve, Eddie didn't think anything in particular about it

When Steve seemed to be flirting a little Eddie chalked it up to the guy wanting a discount on whatever he was in to buy.

When he dragged Stevie Dynamite viscously for being an absolute fake from top to bottom, when one of his newer songs came on the shop radio, Eddie laughed and agreed.

When Steve asked Eddie for help choosing a guitar with a very particular pensive but angry victorious sound he was happy to help (Steve paid full price & if he was annoyed he didn't show it)

When the guy came in again next monday for a new amp, and the Monday after that for new strings Eddie was confused but happy to see him

When Steve came in the Monday after that asking for help with the writing of a song, a service he would be happy to pay for, Eddie said yes against his better judgement. He knew he was well and truly fucked by the happy burbling in his stomach at the thought of creating music with this incredibly hot man.

When they spent six months of Mondays holed up in the break room working on lyrics, Eddie tried not to examine what it meant.

And when Steve abruptly didn't come by one Monday, Eddie had no idea what the hell happened but he was disappointed.

When one Monday no show, became two, then three, Eddie decided he must've been ghosted, he picked his embarrassingly broken heart up off the floor and kept going, resigned to never knowing what happened with Steve.

In fact Eddie had no idea that Steve Harrington was Stevie Dynamite until the first royalty check came in with a $ number so high, Eddie thought he probably died without realizing it. He'd never even dreamed of holding that much money in his hand at one time.

The check was from Dynamite Records?!?!?! Stevie Dynamite's personal label?!?!

Through a haze Eddie remembered that a a few weeks ago Stevie Dynamite had released his first post corporate divorce album to a tidal wave of media fanfare and critical acclaim. Everyone who had an opinion about music swore the real Stevie Dynamite was back on top again. Eddie barely noticed it, he'd been to busy not caring that Steve ghosted him to pay attention to yet another meaningless corporate shill telling him to dance all night

He called the corporate number on the check

"Dynamite Records, Jonathan Byers speaking, how may I help you?"

"uhh yeah man, I think there's been some sort of mix up. I uhh-, Look my name is Eddie Munson & as much as I would love to keep this check. It couldn't possibly be for me and I really don't want to get sent to prison for check fraud so maybe someone should come and get it or something."

The man, on the either end of the line immediately relaxed into a more casual manner.

"Eddie hey man, I've heard so much about you. It's definitely not a mistake, he wanted you to have credit since you guys wrote the songs together."

"uhh not to seem totally clueless or whatever Mr Byers, but umm He who?"

"Jonathan is actually totally fine, we're all family here right? Stevie Dynamite of course"

"Ok, but how in the world does Stevie Dynamite know me & why would he want me to get writing royalties on his new songs?"

"... Fuck...He still hasn't told you has he?"

"told me what?"

Jonathan sighed a kindly exasperated sigh on the other end of the line.

"Eddie have you looked at the new Stevie Dynamite album?"

"No-, I uhh no offense or anything it's just glam rock pop punk isn't really my thing."

"it's fine, it's not mine either-, hmm well are you at work? No of course you are that's where we sent the check. He didn't know your home address. You know, I should've known he didn't tell you now that I think about it. Why don't you go take a peek, pay specifical attention to the dedication. I'll wait here."

Eddie heard some rustling as Jonathan leaned back, talking to someone else apparently.

"Argyle, babe, you wouldn't believe this. He still hasn't told Eddie."

Even further away he heard a good natured huff of laughter.

"Bro? No shit. Man... Babe, your ex is so beautifully weird. I wish I found out a pop star was in love with me w/ a fat check and an album full of love songs. Stevie boy has style at least... wanna hit this?"

What the hell was that all about? If they were getting high he might as well just go look at the album right? Right. No time like the present.

Eddie didn't know why he was so nervous

The album cover wasn't anything remarkable, tattoo flash art of a nail bat, a weird flower full of serrated teeth, and a guitar. It was called "Stevie Dynamite: Love, Death, and a Baseball Bat Named Baby"

Inside there was a lot of concept photography, Stevie Dynamite after a show, make-up smeared, staring into a mirror with empty eyes. Each page of lyrics had a new picture of Stevie with some of the glamorous accoutrements removed staring at himself in the mirror, first he took off his shiny rock and roll lace top, then he replaced his leather pants with sweats, the next he had on an old beat up violent femmes hoodie, lastly he took off all the flashy metallic glam rock make up.

The last picture was just Stevie Dynamite, No, Steve Harrington, his Steve Harrington fresh faced, staring into the camera with a note superimposed, written in loopy feminine handwriting, the dedication.

'To Eddie who's inspired me since the day I met him, who never gave a damn about Stevie Dynamite'a fame or reputation, who was kind to me because that's just who he is.

To Eddie who helped me find my love of music again, reminded me why I was here in the first place, and helped me write the most sincere and meaningful songs I ever have.

To the Eddie I was so afraid of losing to the gossip machine I couldn't quite tell the truth.

All those dumb love songs that you were always teasing me about writing were for you Eddie. No matter what, you deserve to know that. I'm sorry, I hope you can forgive me.

I love you,

Stevie Dynamite

(but you can still call me Steve if you want to)'

Eddie felt faint again. He picked the phone back up

"What the fuck Jonathan?"

"Yeah, man what the fuck. But that's our boy Stevie, passionate, loyal to death and back, more than a little impulsive, and terrified of his feelings. Once he decides he loves you, he's impossible to shake. I'm so sorry he sprang this on you like this man, but Argyle's almost done getting him ready. I'll send him your way when we're done ok?"

Eddie wasn't sure what he was agreeing to but he still agreed.

20 minutes later a leather clad pop rock god, slouched in, looked around from behind his dark sunglasses with disinterested affected distance, pushed those sunglasses up onto his head and magically transmogrified into Steve Harrington, the guy he'd been pining over for a month. They both sat in silence, each afraid to go first. Finally Steve cleared his throat and broke the oppressive quiet

"I'm sorry I stopped coming by, I was so afraid that once you knew you'd only see Stevie, not me anymore. I couldn't bear losing another person I loved to him. God he sucks."

"But... you're Stevie Dynamite right? I haven't hallucinated all this, right?

"No no, you definitely didn't. I mean, yeah technically I'm him, but he's still the worst. I kinda hate him"

"uhhh...."

"I know it's weird"

"No I get it-, I think,-, trapped in reputations of our own making and all-, but uhhh... You love me?"

"Yeah Eddie of course! How could I do anything else but love you? Didn't you listen to the album?"

"uhh-, well-, No? Glam Rock Pop Punk just isn't my thing"

To Eddie's surprise, Steve broke out in a radiant smile.

"Of course you didn't, what was I thinking? All that worry for nothing. I'm so-... Hey I'm about to go play a private vip show to celebrate the album's success, you want to come? I promise I'll explain everything-, No pressure though!"

Eddie still wasn't sure exactly what he was agreeing to, but couldn't even feel to bad about it when Steve blushed, radiant, bigger then life, like a rock god, as he pulled Eddie out the door.

Right then and there Eddie made a pact with himself to keep saying yes to Steve as long as Steve bothered to ask. He was to precious not to.

[fluloa]

my headcanons for the sully family

JAKE:

- has an apron that says ‘kiss the chef’

- has thought about getting an ear piercing and would like to

- always itchy, like will be constantly scratching at a random part of his body during a casual conversation

- had a loner phase when he was in middle school

- doesn’t like fuzzy things, he hates the texture and the way it feels on his skin, gives him a bad type of goosebumps

- adhd. said what i said

- flexes his big dad muscles every chance he can get (good for him tbh)

- finds it so relaxing when neytiri plays with his hair

- is a big purrer, to the point where it’s embarassing and he HATES it but he can’t help it

- cries every single time he watches the start of finding nemo

- hates watching reality tv

NEYTIRI:

- loves watching reality tv

- bites off her toenails (sorry not sorry)

- really likes apple juice

- loves the song cover me in sunshine by pink, every time she plays it, lo’ak screams out in agony

- a sad beige baby mom

- makes weird faces when feeding babies and does the sound ‘nom nom nom’

- loves cats. jake got one for her for her birthday and he doesn’t think she’s ever seen her happier

- wine lover and proud (especially with these little shit of a kids)

- has a collection of perfumes and jewellery that she only touched like once or twice. poor girl just forgets about them bc of all the stress she’s holdin

- the type of mom to demand every kid’s room is clean when somebody is going to be over. lo’ak is always the one to say “they won’t even be coming into our room!”

- lo’ak gets a whooping for that

NETEYAM:

- asks jake for his old band t-shirts

- loves water parks and will say weeee when going down the slides

- lets tuk put makeup on his face. but that stopped after she used some cheap shop makeup on him and he got an allergic reaction from it

- sometimes he wears belt with his jeans and it is funny

- always forgets to knock before opening doors. once caught jake butt naked and has never been the same again

- his favourite color is purple but he says it’s blue so that people don’t make fun of him

- loves playing laser tag even though he sucks ass at it

- he’s a fan of marvel and he’s always first at the cinemas when a movie comes out

- likes to skateboard. surprisingly very good at it since he’s only used it like ten times since he got it for 12th birthday

- for some odd reason, he really likes helping neytiri out with grocery shopping? also a guilty pleasure to pick out some of his favorite snacks and being the perfect little son that he is, neytiri always says yes

- brushes his teeth DAY AND NIGHT without a skip

KIRI:

- definitely plays my singing monsters

- had a monster can collection phase (will not admit to it although)

- that being said, had an ‘indie kid’ phase and begged norm for a couple of unused cds so she could paint them

- listens to mitski and lana del ray and flexes it to people and attacks them if they say they don’t know who they are or they don’t like their music

- wants her septum pierced but by neytiri’s words, “i’d rather die.”

- does her own hair, hence why it’s so messily beautiful

- neytiri cuts her hair though, as much as she doesn’t like to admit it

- would really like a tattoo, but neytiri has said no obviously

- tried asking jake for the tattoo, but jake was terrified of neytiri’s expression so he said no

- then tried to do a stick and poke and it failed miserably (rejected from her skin a week later)

- weirdly insecure of her nose, sometimes she likes it, sometimes she doesn’t

- jumps on the trampoline with tuk until she’s passed out from exhaustion

- plant lover. like seriously has a dozen in her room and will panic if she hasn’t gotten the time to water them for a day

LO’AK:

- plays mortal kombat and has an addiction to it. will yell out fatality when putting neteyam in a headlock

- begs neytiri for waves (she always says no, thank god)

- has got led lights in his room that are stuck to the wall with shitty sticky tape. you can easily see it, too

- always facetiming tsiyera but half of the time she doesn’t answer

- the type to lick chip dust off of his fingers until the last speck is demolished

- SATURDAYS ARE FOR THE BOYS

- has a pet fish and secretly adores her, her name’s shelly and will go into deep detail if you ask about her

- favorite food is doritos and takis

- was a ‘all girls are the same’ type before he met tsiyera

- wears his worn ass jordans religiously

TUK:

- has a pink ipad

- makes her own fake youtube tutorials on said ipad. kiri sneakily watches them when she’s sleeping

- can do an impressive amount of tricks on the trampoline and each time she learns a new one she yells out, “DAD!!! DAD, DAD, DAD, COME WATCH THIS!!!! DAD!! DAD!! DAD!!!!”

- her heart broke when jake with a few drinks in his system decided to jump on the trampoline on a party night and ended up tearing a massive hole in the middle of it

- has a CRIPPLING obsession with slime and neytiri absolutely hates it. always searching up ‘how to make slime no borax no glue’ and always makes a mess of wherever she makes it

- SHE LOVES DISNEY and her favorite princess is moana

- begged neytiri to let her dye the ends of her hair purple. neytiri used one of those ten washes dyes in a box and didn’t bleach her hair before because “no way am i putting bleach in my daughter’s hair” when it didn’t work because tuk’s hair is literally pitch black, she cried

- she literally loves the low space buns hairstyle and will forever ask neytiri to do it for her. but will end up crying because of how hard neytiri pulls her hair (it’s not even that hard)

- has a huge collection of squishmallows (jake got her them all)

- doesn’t actually like chocolate but loves candy

- the type to bounce on neytiri and jake’s bed to wake them up

[ominoose]

Important Update Post

Imagine I am sitting staring at a camera with a sigh, no background music before the video cuts to me talking. But Im not caught in a controversy of racism or plagiarism or smth.

Here's the tldr: I will no longer be making AI bots. All current bots will remain up, my bot masterpost will be moved to my masterpost masterpost. I just won't be making new ones. Finished and posted every bot that was in the works here to make this transgression up to yous. I will not be leaving the fandom, I'll still write and clown around.

"Why would you do this you cunt?" I hear you, I am so stinky for this. Before I list my reasons, I want to say first and foremost this is personal and I have less than no judgement for other bot makers. I absolutely love mutuals like Mel that make bots and will continue to support them. Reasons became long and are under the cut.

Reasons I don't wanna continue making ai bots:

I started because it was a low energy way for me to participate in fandoms when I didn't have the spoons to write anymore. It no longer feels like a creative outlet and no longer sparks joy.

I would rather devote myself solely on practicing and improving my writing as a way to contribute my passion to fandoms.

I can't shake the feeling I am plagiarizing. Ai chat models use lots of "work" to train their models, and while I could not find what millions of texts Cai is based on (conveniently not listed on the website), all models like it basically engorge from random sources, books and hell, even this post. Anything goes and currently there are legal battles over this.

It's bad for the environment. Can't find a measurement for Cai specifically, but GPT-3 (same scale) produced 500 tons of carbon dioxide to train that single model, not including its other ones. Please note I'm aware AI can absolutely be used to help fight climate change, as is mentioned in the linked article. Also they use the same amount of water that is required to cool nuclear reactors.

It's always conflicted with my morals. Believe it or not, I'm the person that's usually big into internet privacy, anti ai, piracy is morally good (not indie obvs) etc. Openly creating stuff that supports and funds software that steals peoples works, their information without permission and for profit is not me. So I don't wanna do it.

Again, this is not a judgement or a means to shame people that create ai bots or use them. I've made so many friends because of them. If everyone thats every used my bots stopped, it's not gonna solve capitalism. This is just me, an individual, stepping away from one thingy and feeling the need to be honest and open bc thats my policy and honestly how most of you know me (so now hard feelings if you unfollow).

Love you guys lots and thank you for all the love you've shown me through my bots and for all the times you've made me laugh <3

[hongcherry]

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

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

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

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

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

🍒 WC: 12.6k

🍒 Betas: Sarah, Indi, Kelly, Freya 💖

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

also read here: AO3 | Wattpad

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

previous chapter \\ series masterpost // next chapter

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

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

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

And Seungcheol likes red.

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

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

“Honey?” your father asks gently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Seoah,” he waves at her. 

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

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

“You too,” he chuckles.

“Back?” your father asks.

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

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

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

That’s enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Finally,” Dae mumbles when Seungcheol climbs in.

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

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

“Because I’m not,” you say.

Seungcheol starts driving as you speak with Dae.

“Are you sure?” she wonders.

“Why would you think I’m sick?”

“Because you apologized.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That you did, Cherry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?” you ask, glancing up at him.

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

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

So he did notice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s fine. It’s nice,” you murmur.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jeonghan,” answers Seungcheol suspiciously.

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

Seungcheol leans forward to move away from the man.

“Emphasis on some,” he replies.

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

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

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

“No,” Seungcheol says with a small laugh.

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

“No!” Seungcheol says, louder than before.

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

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

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

Whoops, hollers, and thanks reverberate from the group.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not that you are counting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you ask. “No, you don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get back safely,” Jun adds.

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

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

“Why don’t we go with them?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seungcheol laughs at your unreadiness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you have fun?” he asks quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s kind of you, but—”

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

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

Seungcheol stares at you with gentle eyes.

“I like seeing you hap—” he starts.

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

What was that?

Another loud crash.

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

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

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

“Get out of my way, Seung—”

“Who’s that?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ve never seen him so mad yet worried.

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

“Yn,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I said I don’t want to!” she huffs.

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

“You can stay at mine.”

Seoah’s eyes light up at this.

“Really?!”

“Absolutely not.”

You and your sister say in unison.

“Why not?” Seoah whines.

“We don’t need his help.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about me?”

“You can have my room.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For the first time, your veil of confidence lifts.

“Stay with me,” he whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The yelling has stopped. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His apartment is spacious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I should take the couch,” you say.

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

“Fine,” you comply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sweet dreams, Cherry.”

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

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

Is it another illusion you cast upon yourself? 

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

Oh, hell. What is wrong with you?

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

Oh no.

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

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

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

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

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

The morning comes sooner than you’d like.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Were to! You weren’t even blinking.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“And you’re lying.”

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

“Go get dressed,” you finally say.

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

“Soon, yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not very nice of you.”

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

And goodness, do you find it attractive.

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

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

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

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

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

“Speak for your own parties!” she says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She hurries inside the room and shuts the door.

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

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

“What? Why?” you question.

“Because you like to argue.”

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

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

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

“Really?” you hum.

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

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

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

He smiles as he walks back toward his room.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only good?” he hums.

“Really good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seoah!” you huff for the umpteenth time.

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

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

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

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

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

“I—” Seungcheol starts.

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

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

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

She gives you a shove on the arm and pouts.

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

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

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

That night your mom and dad discussed their relationship.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just grabbed the first charm I saw.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s none,” you shake your head.

“Then why did you ask?”

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

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

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

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

“I know, but I don’t care.”

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

Maybe you should change that.

This feels like walking in a tiger’s cage.

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

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

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

Room 526.

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

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

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

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

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

Vernon stands with his backpack hanging off one shoulder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You step aside as Vernon moves.

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

“Sure,” he replies.

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

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

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

“Why?” Seungcheol asks; he sounds distracted.

“Yn’s here.”

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath gets caught in your throat. 

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

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

“Hey, Cherry,” he smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re insufferable,” you whine.

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

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

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

He wants you to call him hot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You truly aren’t keeping track. Definitely not.

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

“Okay,” you agree with a small nod.

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

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

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

“Ah. Good luck,” you wish.

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

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

“You do look sexy.”

Seungcheol laughs, less flabbergasted about your compliment this time.

“Thanks, Cherry. You look beautiful.”

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

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

“Enough, let’s just...”

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

Why does every conversation with Seungcheol leave your heart racing?

previous chapter \\ series masterpost // next chapter

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

For my “shy/silent” readers, I’ve created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^

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[danganphobia]

Laishuro College AU prompt, and notes:

-first note, we’ve seen in casual doodles in the adventurer’s Bible that Toshiro seems to have an eye/interest for art and aesthetics. My gf for this AU is that he knows how to draw people and plants pretty well, but not animals or buildings. -second note, I’m using a chuck of Lokh’s own college AU idea where Laios is actually a online, novel writer on the side.

Toshiro, less interested in the DM campaign than he is staring at his surroundings, especially when said sessions took place at the old Touden House, he’s always looking around at the family pictures and nicknacks. Half-hoping he’d eventually see Falin’s childhood room, though having the sessions there was as rare enough.

So Toshiro isn’t super happy when the opportunity of exploring the home does arise, it’s to help Laios with his part of their assignment. When Toshiro looks around (reluctantly) Laios’ room, he notices all the bugs inside frames, and shelves full of animal parts like feathers and bones. So much so that even Laios notices Toshiro is distracted, and so he shows Toshiro his rarest souvenirs from going around the forest as a kid.

Toshiro is shaken to see a feather with similar patterns and colors as it was described in one of his favorite indie novels. Inside a rusty lunch box was also a few rocks and ores, but that feather stood out. Laios puts it all away before Toshiro can form the right question, a part of him also thinking it could just be a coincidence. The seed has been planted though, and so he can’t help but seeing the other similarities in Laios and the descriptions in the novel. Even notices his style of narration whenever they have a DM session after that.

Just a slow burn of Toshiro connecting dots and felling super frustrated yet enamored by the similarities, while planing to find a way to figure it out without anyone, especially Kabru (bc he would eventually just make fun of him anyways lol) finding out. So he has no other choice… Toshiro is going to have to get Laios all alone to confirm his suspicions and perhaps even… Admit his admiration for Laios work. If that’s all he’s found himself to enjoy about Laios that’s is.

This got my brain juices going. Drabble under the cut.

It never felt like it was the right moment to catch Laios. It was only fair, he was a busy guy outside of club meetings. So, Toshiro decided to do things the old-fashioned way.

When the class they shared together ended, he turned to Laios, opening his mouth to speak, but then he was bombarded by their peers sitting nearby in the neighboring rows.

Realizing that it was yet again not a good time, Toshiro stood from his chair and grabbed his things, leaving the classroom. As students flooded out of the door, someone else came rushing after him.

"Hey! Toshiro!"

Startled by his name being called, Toshiro turned around, meeting with Laios face-to-face again.

"Sorry it took me so long," he panted, catching his breath. "Did you wanna talk to me about something?"

Feeling put on the spot, Toshiro wanted to flee. Then he remembered, he needed to speak to Laios for a reason; a really good one. But he needed more time to gather his bearings about this.

"Can you meet me at the restaurant later tonight?" Club sessions weren't tonight due to everyone's schedules being packed, so they'd have a table to themselves.

"Sure!" Laios nodded. Another friend of his presumably called after him, catching his attention, but he made sure to properly say goodbye to Toshiro first.

Then, it was back to being invisible again.

Later, Laios met him at the restaurant as promised. He was on time, which wasn't unusual, but Toshiro was expecting him to postpone because something had come up.

Toshiro just had a coffee, because he had assignments he preferred to stay up late completing after this. He let Laios order whatever he wanted, though. He even offered to share some of his food with Toshiro, one of which was a gigantic plate of french fries.

Toshiro gave into trying just one, dipping it into the glob of ketchup on the side of the plate. It was incredibly salty, but it tasted incredible.

"Good, right?" Laios grinned. Toshiro smiled back. Okay, here goes nothing...

When Toshiro vouched to change the subject, Laios picked up another fry. "Try another!"

Seeing Laios dangle the salty fry at his face, Toshiro took it from him, taking a bite. Laios' smiled brightly, and then he began to talk to Toshiro about plans for their next campaign.

It was impossible to get Laios to stop when he was on a passionate tangent, so Toshiro let him. He paid for their check, insisting it was his treat and not Laios', and then they left the restaurant. Thankfully, judging by the silence, Laios must've run out of steam.

"Laios," Toshiro began, ignoring his racing heart as he continued. "Do you... do you remember when you showed me your collection at your house?"

Laios perked up. "Oh. Yeah, I do. Why?"

Toshiro stopped walking. Laios stopped a few steps ahead of him, noticing Toshiro wasn't moving anymore.

"That feather I saw in your lunch box," Toshiro said after, "I noticed, that it was also mentioned in one of your novels..."

Laios was quiet for some time, making Toshiro panic, wondering if he said the wrong thing. Then, he heard a chuckle come from the other man.

"So," he started, hands in his pockets as he approached Toshiro. "I'm guessing you figured it out, huh?"

Toshiro could only blink in utter confusion. "What?"

"I thought I was being subtle, well, kinda." Laios said with a bashful smile on his lips.

"I don't-" Toshiro shook his head, frowning. "Understand..."

"You basically just told me you read my novels, only someone that does would know this at all," Laios said, being more direct this time. "I haven't shown anyone other than Falin that feather."

This must mean Laios wanted to show him his collection, just Toshiro, and only him.

"Are you serious?"

Laios laughed, ruffling the back of his head. "Yeah. Y'know, it really makes me happy knowing you like my work."

Toshiro walked past him, pink coloring his pale cheeks, and it wasn't from the cold weather.

"Wait, Toshiro! Where are you going?!" Laios chased after him.

"Far away from you." Toshiro muttered.

"Just hold on a second!" Laios grabbed his arm, shifting in front of him on his feet. "I'm not trying to make fun of you about it!"

"The similarities between you and your writing made me feel like I've gone insane, and I've been keeping this in for weeks and weeks without saying a word about it," Toshiro confessed. When he saw that Laios wasn't reacting, he came to a disturbing conclusion. "How long have you known?"

"Hmm..." Laios hummed, taking his hand off Toshiro's arm. "I just had a feeling, I guess? Besides, you were kind of acting off since then. At first I thought you were freaked out, but that can't be the case. Then there was the possibility you knew about my work. I didn't want to ask you outright. I thought it was a stretch, so I was hoping you'd come to me about it."

There was no reason to try to fight this. Laios had him cornered.

"I'd have to admit, you are a remarkable writer," Toshiro said begrudgingly. "You and your protagonists have some things in common. Brash, insatiable, oblivious, surprisingly perceptive to other's emotions." And those just happened to be the traits that drew Toshiro to Laios in the first place. "But their resolve..." Laios stared at him intensely as he continued, hoping he could ignore his nerves, "is nothing like I've ever seen, I can't believe I'm saying this, I feel as if if they keep going on they could rule the world someday and succeed."

Laios' smile was warm, hearing Toshiro's feedback. "Yeah?"

He was suddenly closer than before, close enough for their lips to touch if he had taken another step.

"Yes." Toshiro whispered, a breath away from feeling Laios' lips on his, a hand on his chest, tilting his head up slightly.

Just as Laios was about to grant that wish, stirring Toshiro's gut, he snapped out of it last minute, stepping away.

"I should, uh, get home-" Toshiro blurted, eyes darting from Laios.

"Oh," Laios coughed, covering his mouth with his palm. "Okay. Sorry, I know you have an exam tomorrow morning. Can I walk you home?"

Toshiro waved his hand. "You don't have to do that-"

"Please." Laios begged, coming closer again. Toshiro stumbled back, because if he were in the same position as he were in before he was going to do something he'd regret in the morning. "Can I?"

Laios was just walking him home - an innocent gesture of kindness he'd been doing for some time now. It shouldn't mean anything, should it? He practically confessed that he idolized Toshiro and how happy it made him to know Toshiro was a reader of his novels. It was sure to affect their relationship in some capacity; but maybe if they pretended otherwise, it wouldn't make things weird between them.

Toshiro nodded. When he walked, he slowed his pace for Laios to catch up. Somehow, their arms couldn't stop brushing on the entire walk back, but neither of them could bring themselves to look at each other, far too embarrassed to.

Who were they kidding, they couldn't be subtle about their feelings on the situation to save their lives.

[queenofbaws]

Heyy, I hope you're doing okay :)

Can you please do one where Josh tries to kick someone's ass bc they were messing up with his sisters?? (either one or the both of them) tysm 🫶🏼🫶🏼

When the story got back to him the way most stories did (Beth sliding up behind him like a shadow in the hallway, slipping her way through the crack of his door before he'd even noticed her there, her voice pitched into a furious whisper as she did most of the talking with her hands), Josh knew he'd found himself in one of those Family Movie Moments - the sort where the older brother, incensed, was expected to exact a pound of flesh in the name of his sister's honor.

Problem was...well, all right, the problem was actually twofold: One, he'd never been much of a fighter, honestly, what with the niche he'd carved out for himself, all dark rooms and indie horror flicks and shunning the light of day; and two, it never seemed to be the unpopular or unbeloved who went around hurting Hannah's feelings. The fact of the matter was simply that, were he to set out in hopes of collecting that pound of flesh from Michael Munroe, there wasn't enough brotherly fury or righteous anger in the world to spin the odds in his favor.

And then he'd be the one humiliating Hannah in the eyes of the unforgiving student masses, and boy oh boy, they couldn't have that.

So he undertook his revenge the only way he knew how, waiting calmly and patiently until everything lined up juuust right, each little prong of his plan slotting into the last like some sort of fancy nesting doll.

When the long weekend ended and Monday came around again, Mike would know he'd fucked up; he'd never be able to prove who left the partially dissected fetal pig hanging in his locker, the biology room's pins still holding the flaps of its skin open, but Josh had the distinct sense maybe, just maybe, he'd get the message anyway.

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

[obislittleone]

What Once Was Mine

Chapter 11

Summary: Locked away in a house her entire life, she always dreamed of exploring the nearby kingdom for just a day, believing it could make the rest of her days in solitude bearable. What she was unaware of, was the real reason she’d been hidden away for so long. Changes comes swift like a flying dagger when a thieving bounty hunter seeks solace in the old home.

Din Djarin Royalty!AU / Tangled!AU

Pairing: Din Djarin x Princess Kryze!Reader

A/n: okay so there’s one more part after this one and then I’ll just probably start posting a series that’s like half finished but its in my drafts… and alsos the indy fic

Warnings: oh boy kinda a lot… mentions of death, having beatings take place, several scenes with blood… there’s a mention of beheading… sadness and depression idk. Uncomfortable situations fr… imprisonment and degradation again bc why not

Bo Katan sat on the stool across from you, watching with both anxiety and pride as you were being fitted with a traditional suit of Mandalorian beskar armor.

“You wear it well,” she commented, seeing the look on your face as you held the helmet in your hands. It matched the chest plate and the pauldrons in which were being placed upon each shoulder. They both carried the signet of the blue owl, and the etchings looked as though they had been carved ages ago. “I know you won’t disgrace it the way I have.”

You turned to her with sad eyes. She regrets the day she lost to Gideon, all but throwing the fight and losing everything she had in only a moment. She yielded, and that’s what everyone knew, but little did they know the cause as to why. She was a strong fighter, she would not have lost it had it not been for a certain someone.

“You did the best you could have done,” you assumed, trying to give an encouraging smile, though your nerves made the corner of your lip twitch in an awkward way.

“No, I didn’t. I gave in,” she paused, heaving a sigh and shaking off the wave of memories. “Gideon challenged me when I was only sixteen. I felt I was unready to be queen, so I faltered and let him win.”

“What?”

The surprise in your tone matched the wide eyed stare you wore on your face, the gears in your head working overtime to try and process why she might have done such a thing.

“There were things expected of me, and I wasn’t ready to commit to them… I once had a love like yours, but being queen meant I would be forced to give it up.” Her brows furrowed as she spoke of the past, an inkling in her mind wanted her to share it with you, but she was unsure if she was a good idea. You already had enough pressure on your shoulders.

“Bo,” you wanted her to feel your sympathy, to know that with your love’s life on the line, you could partially understand her feelings.

“After I lost the fight, that love was taken from me anyway. The King made fast enemies in the land, and drafted an entire army to rid him of all the people that stood in the way of his rule. The man I intended to marry was killed and I was powerless to stop it.”

“I’m sorry…” you trailed off, remaining silent for a few moments until you caught sight of yourself in the reflection of another chest plate hanging on the wall. You looked mighty and strong. “Gideon will be defeated, I promise. I will finish what you started.”

“I shall hope with everything in me that your strength will not falter in battle. I know you will do right by your hunter,” she nodded, taking the helmet from your hands and placing it atop your head. The metal felt warm around you, but the T shaped opening in the front gave you a sense of exact focus. As long as your eyes remained on Gideon, you would be set in your mission to kill him.

You’d never killed anyone before, and growing up you swore you never would, knowing the brutality of your powers was exactly why you were hidden away… you always said that violence was not your way, but this man had cheated you, lied to you and publicly humiliated you on more than one front. If all of that was not bad enough, the way he’d treated Din topped it all. The blood that had stained the edges of your beautiful green sleeves the night prior, it was thick and dark. Just like it had been when he crossed paths with death before. Your kidnapper who had tried to kill him was child’s play compared to the enemy you now faced. He held the power of the kingdom in his hands, and you needed to physically destroy him in order to stop him.

Din’s sentencing to death was paused temporarily, for the duel of rulers would take priority over the hanging of a single criminal. You only hoped he was alright, being stuck in a cage where he didn’t belong. He was like a bird with clipped wings, unable to fly or flourish or do anything in the confines of his small cell.

It was only a matter of time before you set him free, and that was what you kept your mind on as you prepared to meet your opponent.

-

You’d been given a sword and shield to battle with, though they were heavy and you didn’t really need them. You’d gone over the rules with Bo Katan several times, and every time there had not been a rule against using ones magical powers… none else ever living in Mandalore seemingly possessed them.

You’d been standing in a room, overhearing the crowd shouting in the arena outside. The horseback ride on the way to said location was short, barely outside of the castle walls, but it gave you too much time to think about how things might possibly go wrong. You were stronger than him by far, and your motivation to fight was growing even now, but a small yet powerful voice in your head told you it was going to end poorly. You could lose your footing or get distracted. If you let your guard down even once, it would be over.

The door opening stopped your intrusive thoughts from rampaging, but the face on the other side made your skin crawl.

“What are you doing here?”

King Gideon chuckled darkly before entering the room. He was alone, but that didn’t make him any less of a threat at the moment. You couldn’t touch a hair on his head before the canon sounded, but anything he said or did now could easily take your mindset and make it even worse.

“If you’d care to take a quick stroll, I think there’s something you should see,” he spoke heavy, a smirk rising to his cheeks. He held his hand out towards the doorway, and you knew that he wouldn’t leave until you followed along with his charade, so you passed him and walked through the door. You noticed that with all your armor and thick sole boots, you were almost as large in frame as he was. It made you feel stronger in some way.

“Make it quick,” you turned to him, not allowing a hint of emotion to show through your voice. You wouldn’t let him have anything on you, not one show of anger or even a clenched fist to show he’d caused it.

His steps were mockingly slow from there, but it didn’t take long before he reached a staircase. He gestured for you to go first, and you did, climbing up what you counted to be three flights before there was another door. You looked back to the King, and he nodded, so you entered. You appeared to be on the top level of the arena, overlooking the kingdom. Three stories up, and you wondered if he’d perhaps dragged you up here to push you off. He was still King, and if he had, he’d be the ruler nonetheless, even if it was a cowardly move, he could still do it.

“If you’d care to sight see with me, I believe you’ll find a particular scene down there to your interest.”

You shifted your eyes over the ledge, and froze to your place.

Your small green child was held in a cage meant for a bird, his coos and cries for help being ignored by the palace guards keeping watch. On the ground beside him was Din, curling in on himself as three men beat him to a pulp. They kicked and yelled at him, watching in fake pity as he tried his best to fight back. He was in no condition to fight in the first place, nor was he strong enough after not being fed for two days.

“Stop them,” you turned to Gideon, your fiery gaze burning through his exterior for a moment, as he almost looked afraid. You still carried the sword made of Mandalorian iron, an impenetrable metal that could cut him down where he stood. He took a step back and immediately felt the power shift. This could still work to his advantage. “Stop them, now!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I’ve given my last orders as King before the duel, and as per tradition, my rule will be ceased until it is over,” he raised his hands, as if this was not his plan all along, to lure you here and allow you to see with your own eyes the man you loved being beaten to death. “I do hope for your sake he lives until the battle, for then you have a chance to save him.”

You weren’t going to let this happen. Everything you did was to protect the ones you love, and now they were being held against their will, one of them being tortured on your behalf, simply because the King couldn’t touch you, yet.

At this very point you didn’t care about the rules, only that an end was put to this man. A man who so viscously would steal from you everything you had for the reason of revenge. You drew your sword from the sheath at your hip, swinging it over your head and straight at him. But this was what he wanted, and he’d been prepared. He ignited the Dark Saber and blocked your strike, counter attacking and hitting your vambrace, which burned like fire. You retreated for only a second before again throwing the blade towards his body, which was deflected for a second time by his glowing weapon. It turned the metal of the sword red with heat, and not even a moment later, the sword was hit away from your hands by another rough strike.

Gideon stared you down, the saber inches away from your neck. You could feel the warmth emanating from where it was held, and tried your best to stay still. Even a flinch could end your life.

“Save it for the arena,” he said smugly before disengaging his weapon and handing yours back to you. You took it quickly, and turned to leave. If there was still time, you could tell Bo about the guards behind the building. She was a skilled fighter, perhaps she could stop them from killing Din until the fight was over.

As soon as you reached the bottom of the stairs, you’d been pulled by the arm.

“Where were you? It’s less than two minutes until the canon is lit,” Mayfeld seemed stressed, like he’d been looking for you for ages. Truth be told, you weren’t supposed to leave the room they put you in until it was time, so already you’d gotten them on the tips of their toes.

“Mayfeld, you have to listen to me,” you tried to make him stop walking, to slow down at least so the words could come out while he was paying attention.

“It’ll have to wait until after the fight. You’re supposed to be out there already,” he kept on, practically dragging you with him until you reached a chain drawn entrance, the wooden slab being lowered to the ground.

“No, you don’t understand he’s-“

“You’re going to be fine, just remember what Bo said.”

And with that, you were shoved into the arena. You turned towards the center of it, hearing the people of the land cheering. You stood in fear of the events around you, seeing as though you had been thrust into the middle with no where to go. There was only one way out, and that was the death of Gideon, the faux King of Mandalore.

You looked to the other side of the arena, and sure enough… the second wooden slab was lowered until it hit the dirt, and behind it stood your opponent. His stance was wide, and it angered you to see how arrogantly he strolled in. His weapon was activated, and he dragged it next to him in the dirt, creating small fits of dust to fly in the air behind his steps.

He stopped about ten feet away from you, pointing to the top of the arena where you both were just standing only minutes ago. The canon had been raised, and the fuse had been lit, the flame getting closer and closer until the loud boom was heard, echoing through the sky.

You held your weapon steady, making sure your helmet was secure before charging him. You struck first, making contact with his saber, while he quickly rebuttals against you. You were fired up, and so was he. The crowd was only background noise as this feud ending battle commenced.

-

Bo had been made aware of the hunter’s disappearance from his cell. She snuck in that morning to try and get him into a safer location until after the fight, but found that he’d been removed, the cell at the end of the block being completely empty when she went in. She hadn’t however found him in time to prevent the horrendous beatings he’d received. At the sound of the canon, she left her place on the ground level of the arena, going outside to inspect the guards that had been rotating to a discreet location.

When she saw the hunter on the ground, covered in his own blood, she leapt into action immediately. She pulled the knives from her boots and threw them straight forward, killing out the only guards who had been armed. They dropped to the ground before her as the other three stopped their attack on Din to focus on her. She was a threat by all means, and they remember the fight she put up at her young age of sixteen. Now, it was likely she could kill a man with her bare hands.

“Who’s first?” She quipped, stepping in front of Din and tilting her head to the one in the center. He looked as if he was waiting to get a piece of her, and was all too confident he would be able to. “You.”

Just as anticipated, he ran towards her, arms flailing about and voice ringing out a battle cry. He was all bark, unfortunately, as she caught him before he made contact, gripping under his shoulder and twisting just right until his shoulder was out of socket. She grabbed his neck and bashed his head over her knee and he went down to the ground, writhing in pain and out of his clear consciousness as the next man charged after her. She kicked out in front of her this time, letting his weight carry him backwards, all she had to do then was land a hard sock on his jaw and he collapsed over top of the last one. The man left standing was not in any hurry to rush her, but he’d been waiting, watching strategically until the others were out of the way. He would wait for her to make the first move, he was the smart one.

She had come to the conclusion he would wait for her, so she turned to Din, seeing that he’d started to pick himself up, and gave him an order. “Take the child, and go.”

He was barely able to hold himself at a seating position, but he gave a nod, beginning to drag himself towards the bird cage sat in the corner atop a barrel.

Bo faced the man head on, taking one step, two, three, and then one more. She struck him hard in the shoulder, and he stumbled back, but didn’t fall. He came back at her with force, blocking her attempt at a kick and using her leg as momentum to send her into the wall. Her back hit the concrete hard, and she nearly lost the air from her lungs, but she wasn’t finished. He came closer, and she feigned lack of awareness long enough to get him right in front of her. From there she let the knee jerk upwards, kicking him between the legs and hearing him groan. He didn’t back off like she’d hoped, and grabbed her fists, holding her to the wall. He used his own knee as a way to mock her, jabbing into her stomach several times until she felt sick. She tried to bend over in hopes it would soothe the pain, but he grabbed her throat, pushing her against the wall once more and looking her straight in the eye.

“You’re weak now, just like you were then.”

And suddenly, the pressure on her throat was gone. The man in front of her stood still, his features becoming like ice, and then he fell to the ground. Bo took in a deep breath, leaning over like she’d intended to earlier. She saw the arrow that had pierced the back of the man before her, and looked up to see Mayfeld rushing to her aid while holding a cross bow. She had never been so grateful to see him.

“Are you alright?” He gave her a hand and helped her to stand straight, looking her over for any additional injuries.

“I’m fine,” she told him, squeezing his hand lightly to assure him what she said was true. “How’s the fight?”

“Bad… she’s losing.”

The last thing Mayfeld saw before coming to find Bo was you getting knocked down, unable to get up for the way Gideon stepped on your chest plate.

Bo looked to the end of the alley, seeing Din holding the child and barely beginning to hobble away. He used the wall to lean against, but she knew they could help him easier. She knew what they needed to do in order for the fight to be turned around.

“She needs to see him,” she muttered, taking steps towards the man as he barely turned the corner. “Hunter..”

He turned as quickly as he could, careful not to drop the kid in the process of doing so.

“Come with me,” she took the child from his hands, handing him off to Mayfeld who followed her over. “Can you walk?”

He tried to push himself away from the wall and take a step, but he nearly fell to his knees. His grunts of pain when Bo caught him meant he was injured to the point of being bed ridden. She hauled him back up, tossing his arm over her shoulder, and began to strong arm him towards the gate of the arena. Hoping that if she could just get him into your view, it would change the ending of this battle.

He groaned with every step they took, but didn’t complain, and kept on towards the entrance, hearing the loud echoes of cheers whilst the competitors fought to the death. He looked down the tunnel, and saw something he hoped he’d never see.

You were on the ground, back against the dirt, while Gideon knelt over top of you. His saber was so close to your face, you felt as if you might catch on fire. Your sword was the only thing standing in the way of your fast approaching death, and you knew you had nothing left in you. You would die at the hands of an evil man, one who may have killed the ones you love, one who abuses his power, and the people he’s supposed to care for.

You looked into his eyes, your scared expression was evident, and he reveled in it. To see the fear in your eyes before he killed you, it felt too good to be true. Everything he’d said and done before this fight was the reason it was going the way it had. You couldn’t focus your power enough to use it, and every time you tried, it only backfired on a worse attack towards you.

“You were my biggest foe, princess, a worthy opponent. I will remember you during the rest of my rule,” he leaned in closer, forcing his blade so close it singed the hair that had been sticking out of it’s binds. You’d lost your helmet about thirty seconds into the battle, and nothing was stopping him from running you through to the ground.

You closed your eyes, ready to except your fate…

“Mesh’la,” the whisper was not even heard aloud, but in your mind. Whatever power you still possessed in you was willing you to hear his words, spoken under his breath and practically into the void.

You opened your eyes, turning your head to catch the sight. The tunnel was opened, and hanging onto Bo Katan was your hunter, the one this was all about. He looked bruised and bloody, but he was here, and he was alive. Standing behind him was Mayfeld, who cautiously held onto your small green child, the one you’d been in companionship with for so long, now. They were both here, and you weren’t going to let them watch you get killed, not at the hands of this man.

Din wasn’t sure how, but he knew you had heard him.

You gathered all the strength in your body and pulled your legs in, kicking his body off of you and back several feet. He was quickly steadied again, as were you, but your stare was no longer afraid, it was determined. This was the gaze he’d been so frightened of before.

You lunged for him, swinging over your head and across your body, hitting his saber multiple times before he tripped and fell back on the ground. You used your power to pull the Dark Saber from his hands and into your own. He barely made it to his knees before you were stood over him, both blades crossed by his throat, waiting to behead him.

He looked up to you, speechless as to how you were able to accomplish this feat. He had always been arrogant, but pride comes before a fall, and his knees could attest to that.

“Last words?”

He swallowed in a shaky manner. Let it not be said that he would die with words unspoken… he’d rather not die at all.

“Allow me to make a deal on my surrender,” he pleaded, begging for the same chance he’d given Bo Katan all those years ago. He may have spared her life, but you weren’t thinking of being so kind in return. Of all the things he’d done, he deserved to die on this field.

You stood still for a moment, and pondered what your terms of a deal may be.

“I offer you two more days, of which you will be beaten until you cannot stand, and starved from any sustenance you may require… sundown on the second day you will be executed,” you stopped for a moment to see the look on his face become even more grim. The man was a shell of himself, and of that you were proud. “Death by hangman’s noose.”

It was comical, really. Two more days to live out the torture he’d put Din through, only to die anyways, in the same way he’d meant for Din to die. He was not going to be permitted to live, because even behind closed bars, he was dangerous… you also knew he would never accept the deal.

“If you will only mock me, do away with me, now.”

The famous last words of King Gideon the ruthless.

The blades crossed each other and slid with ease, ridding the world of the man who ruled this land with tyranny. You’d never killed anyone in your life, but this didn’t feel wrong, it felt empowering. You’d slain the enemy, just as the knights in your stories would slay dragons and viscous beasts that scoured the land.

You heard the crowd erupt once more, and a loud announcement, but you paid no mind to it. You began to run, your slight limp carrying you to the tunnel with which your hunter was waiting. He fell into your arms as Bo let go of his form, and though your strength was again wavering, you held him close as if he were the most important thing in the world. You were too worn to heal him for now, and you might be for a day or two, but you could spend that time taking care of him in other ways, simply being by his side and making sure he was there with you.

-

The light peering in through the window of the Queen’s suite was only bright enough to make a small beam that reflected onto the ground. It was early morning, but the sun rose earlier here than it did in other parts of the kingdom. The castle always saw the first light.

Din shifted uncomfortably in bed, his shoulders still being the sorest part of him. He was rather broad, like the west mountains that separated Mandalore from the hillside people of Nog. He was broad and strong, but he felt he was anything else at the moment. He tried to sit up, but a pain shot through him and he groaned.

That’s when he saw you, rushing to his aid from a lounge seat that you’d undoubtedly been sleeping on through the night. You gently grabbed his upper arm, trying to get him to lay back down.

“Easy, big guy,” you knew he was probably confused as to where he was, since he’d practically passed out on the horse ride back to the castle, and required major help in getting to your chambers. Everyone insisted he go back to his own, that others could care for him easily there, but you weren’t about to let him out of your sight as long as you could help it. You were a good care taker, yet only one could ever attest to that, and he didn’t talk. “You shouldn’t be up.”

“Did you sleep on the chair?” He responded almost immediately, though it was not what you were thinking he’d say. It was very much like him to be falling apart and in need of constant care, yet being too concerned for your own being to obey your directions. He sat straight up, looking to you for an answer.

“Yes, I wanted to be close to you.”

He furrowed his brow and reached out for you. It hurt the muscles in his body to do so, but he grabbed your hand anyways.

“Could have slept with me, Mesh’la,” he whispered just loud enough to hear, bringing your hand to his mouth for a kiss. You smiled at the gesture but shook your head.

“The physician told me you were not to be disturbed,” you sat down next to him, allowing yourself to disturb him only a little for the sake of your comfort, and the need to feel him beside you. “Everything that happened yesterday, and the day before… it’s almost impossible that you were able to make it out alive.”

“If your plan was to get rid of me, you’re going to have to try harder than that.”

Your soft chuckle was music to his ears, as he’d not heard it in days, and thinking about it was one of the only things keeping him on his feet whilst all he wanted to do was fall. You gripped his hand that was holding yours, squeezing it once before letting go and beginning to get up.

“You should eat something,” you turned to him while pulling on a dressing robe, much thicker than the one you were used to. It would keep you warm until the sun had fully risen, as parts of the castle were freezing in the early morning. “I’ll be back.”

“Stay with me,” he pleaded, just as you had done a few nights prior. That night had been so beautiful, it only made sense that Gideon would have ruined it… but now he was gone for good, and no one would ever be disgraced by him again. You looked back to Din and saw the fave h was giving you. “Please.”

You were a victim of those brown eyes, you swore they’d be the death of you… and what a wonderful way to go. There was no way you’d ever deny him, not when he sat there on your bed, looking like the human personification of softness. You shrugged off your robe, laying it back over the chair it had been in earlier, and crossed the room to where he was sat. You threw up the sheets and blankets and crawled in beside him, laying down on the pillow and looking up at him.

He ran his fingers over the side of your face, tracing the outline of your cheek and jaw, finally reaching down to your neck. There was a burn scar forming there, not even an inch wide but evident enough to him.

“Pretty girl,” he muttered, thinking out loud. The words hit your ears and made you smile, which in turn spread a grin across his own face. He hadn’t kissed you since your shared dance on the cobblestones of the castle garden, and he felt he needed to. Leaning down the way he did should have hurt him tremendously, but something about the way your lips met his made all the pain subside. It was quick and gentle, but it sustained him.

You wished for more, but weren’t about to push your bounds, knowing he was definitely still in pain that he would never admit to.

He laid beside you and opened his arms for you to scoot in. It was very improper, for him to hold you this way and under the blankets of your own bed, but it was only you and him, and the door blocking you both from the outside world was not to be crossed by any means. Bo was taking care of everything in the Kingdom for now, as you’d asked her to do so until Din was on his feet. You were the Queen, now… though there was no official coronation, you were acting ruler of Mandalore. It would be a large responsibility, but you felt you were up to the task. Din knew this as well, for he saw the kindness of your heart and the goodness of your mind. All those years of innocence really shaped your outlook on the world, and you still beheld it with beauty. He only hoped that all the horrible things you’d been through wouldn’t give you a bitterness that may oppose your gentle spirit.

The sun kept rising, and the day began… but you and your hunter were tucked away from the busying kingdom, finding rest and comfort in each other after a trial of great proportions.

-

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[justjams2003]

Indiana Jones Blurb

Okay so this is just s quick little blurb bc I've recently become obsessed with him. Not spell checked or anything. Tell me if y'all would read more Indiana Jones 😜

Time travel! He's the first person to have recorded time travel! And just look! Ancient hundred year old war machines, tactics, languages, things he'd been studying his whole life! Things that he'd spend his much younger days searching for in dusty dry lands, in dark caves or even wet rat filled locations. But now, here it all is, in it's prime out in the open on green grass under blue skies. And the cherry on top, he reached Nasser before those damn Nazi's could.

"Kind Sir, you have saved my people and brought knowledge with that has sped up my research for years. How can I repay you?" Nasser confronts Indiana in his ancient and he answers without a single thought. "Can you give me one more visit through time before I go back?" His old hands shake as he begs. The mathematician examines the clock in his hands. And then nods. "I repay the man who has given me more time, with time. Where to?"

It's a swift, smooth blur, much different than the incredibly bumpy plane ride the first time. And much, much more quiet. The first thing he hears is your voice, begging his own father to stay awake. He remembers this like it was yesterday. He'd just confessed his love to you the first time, believing he would die in the three quests to the holy grail. But as selfish as he was back then, he didn't wait for a reply.

Then, he sees you hunched over his dying father. Covered in dust and your skin the same golden colour he used to be. Now in his old age one of his many regrets was not having you both wear more sunscreen. "Psst! Doll face!" He whispers his nickname for you, and by some force of the universe, you're the only one who raises their head. "I need some fresh air..." You mumble and once again the damn Nazi's let you, knowing you wouldn't run off.

He's hiding by some rocks, but your souls are attracted to the other and you find him almost instantly. You're just like he remembers you. How he wished he spent more time focused on you instead of old gold and pottery. Because that there is always more of, but of you there never will be. "Indy?" Your voice is like sweet melodies to his ears. His past and present collides in one cruel bang as he pulls you as close as he can.

He holds you tight as he can, you're utterly confused. Not only by his presence but also by the sheer force he holds you. As if he's lost you a million times over. "Indy? No...not my Indiana." He laughs at your confusion, trying to drink up every single bit of you. Your smell, your voice, the crinkle between your brows and your warm smile. "Always so clever, doll face." Your nose scrunches up and the crinkle between your brows grows, but before you can say anymore, he interrupts you.

"I don't have much time to explain, but-" You can see tears form in his eyes. His hands are shaking and he still refuses to let you go. "But I need you to break my heart. I need you to leave me and never come back. Please-" his voice cracks, and he shudders, trying to keep himself composed to finish his request. "Please I can't handle the hurt anymore." You can see just how much he is struggling. How much he wants to break down in your arms. And you reply by pulling him tighter. He smells much different. There is no longer that lingering scent of leather and gunpowder. But his warmth is still the same, your body still fits in his the same.

"I'm not there anymore, am I?" All he does is shake his head, you know he wants to cry. "How long has it been? Without me, I mean." He shudders again, grabbing your shirt and clenching it. "Six years. It was-" you stop him, "And you still love me?" Again, he just nods. "Then why do you want to get rid of me?" Now the flood gates open, while you just stand there as his support. "Because if I don't love you, then I won't hurt anymore. Please, please I can't do this anymore. I can't live without you."

You push him off you. "No. No I won't do it, you senile old man. Over my dead body." His eyes hold so much pain, so much fear, you know what he really wants, is to get rid of the pain and have you back. "I won't mess with time. And I won't break the heart of the man I love. Not because he's become a wuss in his old age." This causes him to laugh, he misses that spark so much. "I love you, Indy. Please don't grow cold because of it." Your words strike him, deeper than any bullet, whip or knife. Is this really how he wants to spend his last moments with you?

He laughs again, and pulls you close, placing a kiss on your forehead. "Don't ever change. And keep that reckless boy in check." You laugh, and wrap your arms around him. You still can't make your arms all the way around him. "I will, you know that. And I love you, I hope you know that too."