#I love this miniseries

[thursdaythoughtsfromtheabyss]

A short little clip in which Nick Marini, lawful neutral rules lawyer, is granted a fly swatter and possessed by a cat

[prettysweetprettysweet]

please go watch Mr Loverman on BBC iPlayer!

The Guardian review

[batbabydamian]

thank you for your blog title; you appeared in the Suggested Blogs thing and i was like "!! YAYYY" and now have the third volume of Juni Ba's Boy Wonder

WOO CONGRATS!! a proud owner of peak art and writing!! 🥺

i’ll be updating my title after another week or so with #4’s release date (August 7) for anyone wanting to preorder or just a lil reminder ^^

IT’LL BE A TALIA POV ISSUE!! 💚

[bellamysgriffin]

get to know me meme >> Favorite Movies [23/?] Anne of Green Gables

Don't you ever imagine things differently from what they are? No. Oh, Marilla, how much you miss.

[reddieswift]

besties :,)

[hyperdramas]

assumptions | lee seokmin

pairing: lee seokmin x reader

warning: non-idol au, angst, romance, major league baseball player!seokmin, popular x nobody, depressing themes, unlikely meeting, sprinkles of fluff, miscommunication, pg-13/some suggestive themes (??) mentions of peer pressure, drinking & insecurity, cursing, there IS a happy ending (i promise)

playlist: assumptions, sam geliatry | runaway houses city clouds, tame impala | softcore & reflections, the neighborhood | passion, pinkpantheress

part: 1 of 3 extra note: thank the amazing @slytherinshua for coming up with this absolutely GENIUS idea🙏 / word count: 1.7k (longest thing i've written???)

Even though popular and talented Major League Baseball player Lee Seokmin had everything that eleven-year-old him would've wanted, he felt empty as he watched his own replays on the television.

Seokmin had fame—he was known everywhere, not only for his raw talent as a pitcher, but his model-like qualitites and his supposedly likeable personality. Seokmin had money—he lived in a pretty upscale apartment that was cut off for the rest of society, tucked away on a cliff overlooking the bustling night view. Seokmin had merit—he was praised for his physical ability, humble disposition, and respectable talent.

He had it all, and yet he had absolutely nothing.

Just hours earlier, the crowd's roar was tantalizing, drawing Seokmin in as he stared out at the thousands of fans coming to cheer for him and his team. Now, it sounded static-like and overwhelming, the sound unbearable as he had to switch the television, sighing as he moved away from the suffocating room that was once his comforting living room.

Seokmin's footsteps echoed into the empty, lavish kitchen, white tile unblemished as he searched his fridge. He wasn't hungry, but he looked inside it anyways, closing it moments after as he sighed to himself, hands in his hair as he rested his elbows on the sleek marble countertop.

Why did he feel so empty? He had his teammates if he needed to call, but he didn't want to hear their voices right now. He didn't know why he was angry at them, but he was.

Seokmin was never an angry person—sure, he got fired up at times or had strong opinions that he wasn't going to let go without a fight, but he was never one to just be angry for no reason. Something was bothering with him, but he couldn't figure out what it was or how to stop it.

Why was he even trying anymore?

"Fuck." Seokmin sighed out the curse word, bite still harsh behind it as he let his head fall down on the counter with a hard knock.

A knock at his door brought him out of his sour reverie, and he stared at it confused. He lived far off from the nearest residental area—who was here? How did they get here?

The doorbell rang just seconds later, and Seokmin groaned, tired eyes empty as he made his way to the front door, swinging it open to reveal you, standing in all of your oblivious, confused glory.

"Can I help you?" Seokmin's voice was obviously not the one you were expecting to hear, and you jumped at it, face a hot, blaring red as you realized what was actually going on here.

Your friend had given you an address that a party was going to be at, and you reluctantly promised that you would go. You had followed the directions to the letter, and didn't even think twice about when you arrived at the massive apartment, undeterred by the lack of cars or absence of party music.

You were obviously at the wrong house.

"Can I help you?" Seokmin repeated again—this time around, his voice was sharper, more annoyed. You stood in shock, obviously in denial that this had happened to you.

"Is there a party going on here?" You questioned, and Seokmin blinked, silent before he shook his head slowly. "....No?"

Not only were you at the wrong apartment, but you were at popular celebrity Lee Seokmin's apartment. The Major League Baseball player your little cousin was a fan of was standing right in front of you, in his attractive, dashing glory.

"I'm so at the wrong house." You say awkwardly, and Seokmin just stares at you, just as confused and disturbed as you are. There was this random girl at his door, talking about a party that he had heard absolutely nothing about.

"Yeah, you are." Seokmin actually let out a little laugh at that, eyes crinkling like the ways you say they did on television. You smiled, an even brighter red because the Lee Seokmin was laughing at you.

"Well, I should go. I'm sorry, uh, Mr. Lee." You said, trying to mend the awkwardness you were feeling. Seokmin paused, eyebrows furrowing together slightly as he spoke. "You know who I am?"

"Well, yeah. My—my little cousin—he's a really big fan of you." You reply, mind somewhere else. You're not a big fan of the man or anything, but you have said he's attractive on multiple occasions to your Major League Baseball-enraptured friends (who would not let you live it down if you told them that you had met him by accident).

"That's sweet," He says, and you nod, offering a small 'yeah' as the two of you fall quiet. "We'll, I'll go now." You say, smiling awkwardly as you start to walk away.

"Stop." Seokmin's voice is quick, but strong, and you pause, turning back around as you meet his gaze. His brown eyes were even prettier in person, and the tight, black tank top he was wearing (and you were trying to ignore) just made the whole ordeal even more unbelievable.

"Can you stay?" I just—" Seokmin pauses, struggling to find the right words. He couldn't even believe what was coming out of his mouth right now, but he couldn't seem to stop the words from coming. "I don't want to be alone."

You were stunned, unable to speak for a second as you replayed his words—he was asking you, a random college girl who inputed the wrong directions and ended up at a celebrity's rich-looking apartment—to stay with him.

And here you were, saying yes. "Yeah, uh—sure." You conceded, stepping inside the apartment as you slipped off your shoes.

Everything was so upscale, and you felt out of place, t-shirt and sweatpants doing nothing but making you feel like you were intruding in Seokmin's clean, neat space.

"Make yourself at home. Do you want anything to drink?" Seokmin was in his kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water as he looked to you for your response.

You were watching his back intently, watching how his muscles tensed when he did certain things—he was built, no doubt about it, and you could imagine the curve of his collarbone and dip of his abs from your vantage point.

"Oh, um, water's fine." You answer, noticing that Seokmin had been staring at you for who knows how long, waiting on a reply.

He went to work, filling your glass as he passed it to you. It was cold, and you took a sip, quiet as Seokm looked out the massive window that stood his dining room. The air between you two was still very awkward, but you felt like you could open up about anything to him, and he wouldn't judge you like your mom or friends would.

"So, you live here all alone?" You questioned, and Seokmin nodded, taking another sip of water. "Yeah. It's just me." Seokmin answered, and his hand tightened around the glass. He was so alone, and so miserable.

"What about you? Do you live alone?" Seokmin returns your question, and you shake your head. "I live with a college friend."

"Oh." Seokmin nods, and you nod with him, silence falling over you two again. It was so awkward, sitting with this famous baseball player while drinking cold water and talking about your living situations. Could your night get any weirder?

You studied Seokmin's face, never really paying attention to it while you were talking. All the pictures never really did him justice—his eyes were prettier in person, and you never knew that he had a tiny beauty mark on his cheek. You guess it must've always been covered up, or obscured by his helmet.

His frame was as described by everyone in love with him—he was strong and broad, muscles bulging from his sleeveless tank top.

According to a Men's Health article you read once, Seokmin worked out daily, and they weren't lying—he looks like he was sculped by God, spending hours and hours to get to where he was now.

"Thanks for staying, by the way. I know it was weird, asking you to randomly stay with me in my house." Seokmin becomes timid, and you shake your head, shrugging. "Of course. I mean—I have nothing better to do, and I really didn't want to go to that party my friends were going to."

"You really didn't want to go, did you? You came to the wrong address just you wouldn't have to, huh?" Seokmin laughs, making a joke. You flush, laughing nervously as you set down your glass. "I guess you could say that, yeah."

The laughing dies out between you after a while, and you yawn, eyes growing heavy. Whether it's because the lack of real conversation you and Seokmin are having, or the fact that his voice is so calming and down-to-earth that you could phase into his countertop and sleep forever, you don't know.

"Your eyes are closing." Seokmin says—his voice sounds like he's laughing at you, but you're too busy fighting sleep off that you let it slide. "Well, yeah, I guess so."

"You're getting sleepy, aren't you?" Seokmin questions again, and you nod without thinking, head falling on the countertop as you mumble a yes.

Seokmin leaves his place on the other side of the countertop, making his way over to you as he leads you by the shoulders into his living room. His massive, warm hands engulf your shoulders easily, and you let him lead you, not putting up a fight as he lays you on his plush, velvet couch.

"What will the people think if they found out I was sleeping on your couch?" You muse, half-asleep. Seokmin pauses, brain racing at your simple question—so many things could happen if this were leaked to the public. His clean image would be stained by dating rumors if that happened to you, and Seokmin didn't know what he would do if the word actually got out.

"They're not going to." Seokmin says blankly, and you mumble something before drifting to sleep. Seokmin stares down at you, watching your soft features contort into a neutral expression.

What would reporters say? What would his teammates say? What would his coach say? What would his manager say?

Seokmin didn't know, but he found himself not wanting to think about that as he dimmed the living room's lights, walking upstairs to his room as he stripped himself of his pants and got into his bed, lights going out as he stared into the darkness.

What was he doing?

feedback & reblogs are so appreciated! i wanna hear your thoughts :>

[winterkov]

hey first actual post on this blog

it’s super fast and there’s a lot more going on so it’s hard to notice but. shoutout to simon gripping onto winter kings arm for support i thought it was cute

[dogzcats]

PERIOD DRAMA APPRECIATION WEEK: Favorite TV series

John Adams (2008)

[derelictlovefool]

❝​🇪​​🇲​​🇪​​🇷​​🇬​​🇪​​🇳​​🇨​​🇪​-⦂❝

— 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐝.

Notes: Don't forget part one and part two! Reader and Wade suck at communicating some more, Peter's a good pal and you should remember to never walk past dark alleyways at night kids, especially when your recent ex is a merc!

Warning/s: Canon Typical violence, kidnapping, graphic depictions of violence, unhealthy relationships, toxic behaviour, angst, references to alcohol consumption & sexually explicit activities, explicit language

Words: 3k

The act of finishing a favourite hot beverage had never been so difficult, so tense and unendurable. You and Wade had sat in stuffy silence, neither giving in and or walking away; the only two ways to push the painful interaction forward. You had so much you wanted to say but no words would come out, your leg bounced under the table and you'd locked your arms over each other. You were trying with all your might to block him out, physically and mentally, but it would never work with him right across from you. You inhaled deeply and exhaled just as roughly, Wade's own movements Mimicking yours as he adjusted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Look at us," he finally muttered, "This is sadder than the shitty apartment in that game they made about me." He sighed and you felt like tossing your empty mug at his head for the reference you couldn't conjure in your mind, no one in this universe was making games in honour of Deadpool—or Wade Wilson. No one was making anything his face or name anywhere near it. He was right that it was fucking sad though, you wouldn't argue with that.

"Whose fault is that?" You couldn’t help but be snippy, indignation heavy in your tone, your back restlessly hitting the back of the booth that started to feel more suffocating as the seconds ticked by. You wanted to be anywhere else, you wanted to turn back time and be sitting in this booth with Wade making jokes about the cafe decor and not remarking on your crumbling relationship.

"I blame Daniel Way and Damon Wilson-Hart personally—"

You shot him a pointed look and he cut himself off, the mirage of humour and escaping this reality joining the hot cocoa in his stomach acid as he all but deflated before you.

"How many times do I gotta say sorry?" His shoulders slumped and he held his hands up in question, he'd never sounded so lost. And there were plenty of times when he had been, maybe in even more dire and important ways than this. One's where you weren't involved.

"I don't know Wade, I've never had that big of a shitshow breakup before and I can't just snap my fingers and get over it." You snapped your fingers to emphasise your point, "I wish I could just forgive you and have nothing but happy, bubbly feelings for you again but that's not how the real world works." You unfold your arms, spreading them out across the table and you seem him almost reach out to grab one of your hands when you do; you weren't sure if you would have recoiled, or if you would have grabbed him back tight enough to leave a bruise—so you're relieved when he doesn't.

It would just make it harder.

"What do we do now then? I'm no good at grovelling, I'm much better at shovelling and shooting, neither of those apply here—or do they?"

"If I were to start somewhere Wade I'd figure out how you're gonna tell me what happened, with all the gritty details, " you ignored his latter question, "and maybe while you're at it some therapy would do you some good." You hated how harsh you sounded but you needed to say it, it's not like you were asking too much—Well the therapy might have been a step too far for Wade but you stood by it. No matter how much you praised the work your therapist had done while helping you Wade never got more than a hundred feet within a practice or office.

It was like he was allergic to the mere concept of therapy and getting help.

"And what about you?"

"I have an appointment with my therapist and i'm gonna bitch and moan about you, wait for them to fix me and tell me what to do so I can argue with them for ten minutes… And end up doing the opposite." You rolled your eyes, expecting a scoff or some kind of dig, that seemed to be what you were both good at right now. But what you got was almost worse.

"So there's still hope… For us?" His words left a heavy feeling hanging over you and you suddenly found your fingernails very interesting. Caught off guard and forced to deal with yourself rather than him had you shfiting in your seat. You wanted to say yes, of course, there was never no hope for you. No matter how many scenarios you played in your head none of them had you walking away from the merc, it just wasn't something you were capable of. Your therapist would be extremely disappointed but despite all you'd told them no one really understood you and Wade, and no one ever really would.

Even when it felt like you were worlds apart it was you two against everybody else.

You envisioned the both of you back to back, tied by that silly red string pulled tight enough to draw blood, your skin on Wade's and the both of you unable to move lest the cord pull tighter and choose to free you both of your heads and hearts. The more you thought about it the more you got to realise how much you'd let yourself need Wade and how your therapist had some credibility when they tossed the co-dependency thing around. You wished you’d never heard the word and kept living in blissful ignorance but it was too late for that, you and Wade were all kinds of messed up and this whole situation was proving a myriad of things you didn’t want to think about.

"I hope so." You whispered, the sentiment genuine as it tumbles from your lips. You wanted to stop being angry. you wanted to stop your chest from aching anytime you glanced at him and got flooded by the memories of the last two years—and that fucking breakup. God you wanted to forget about it and tuck it away into the memories that gave you hives box and never think about it again. Depending on someone wasn't a crime and you knew Wade felt the same, even if it was for different reasons. That day had apparently sucked for both of you but you dared to say you got the shorter end of the stick.

Your phone buzzed, Wade stared you down from across the table.

You picked it up and despite the notification being nothing more than a reminder for your appointment the next day you stood and stuffed it away in your pocket. You couldn’t deal with this right now, the angry arguments you could handle but the raw, open vulnerability was too much—at least for a cafe. Maybe if you were back in your apartment you’d feel more inclined to sit in it and talk. Actually talk. But you weren’t at your apartment.

"I gotta go, I'll… See you around Wade." It felt weird to walk past him without squeezing his shoulder or pressing a kiss to the leather of his suit; all of this felt wrong and you wanted to try all over again. Maybe you should have just stayed home, actually. Wade grabbed your wrist and you took a moment to steel yourself before looking down at him, his expression hidden by that red fabric and blank white eyes set into the black coverings.

"Tomorrow night. I'll see you." It was a firm declaration and it had you wondering all sorts of things but you were too tired to argue. You nodded and his hand lingered over yours as he slowly let you go. It felt nice, for a brief moment, to have your hand in his; the warmth of his palm and gentle touch of his fingertips. But it slipped away and you walked out, holding your head high as you forced yourself to head down the street. You found yourself at another park across the city, sitting on a bench and scrolling through your contacts as you thought about how to distract yourself.

Normally you loved the weekend—Normally you had Wade or friends to hang out with.

But as you looked at the names of your buddies you couldn't think of one that wouldn't give you another 'I told you so' lecture about Wade and you really didn't need that right now. You needed to think about literally anything else at that moment—or be supported in some other, less Wade-hating way.

You jumped as your phone rang and you stared at the photo on your screen for a second before you picked up the call.

"Hi Pete." You greeted, brows furrowed as the sound of wind gushing past the receiver met your ears.

"Spidey senses were tingling, you okay?" He asked, voice muffled by his mask, and you can't help but laugh. No, you were so far from okay, and Peter was not one of the people who'd keep his mouth shut about Wade. He hated him, or at the very least had an extreme dislike for him—even when you were dating, he didn't keep his disdain about it to himself. You got that's what friends were for in so many cases, but sometimes it really pissed you off, and you weren't sure you could handle any of that right now.

"I'm fine," a long pause, "Okay no, I feel like shit but I really, really, don't want to talk about it." You muttered, chewing on your bottom lip as you glanced around the park. People walked by like usual, none of their world's were crumbling at the seams because their boyfriend broke up with them—they were happy, or, happier than you. The wind died down on the other side of your phone, and you jumped as the bench bounced with the weight of someone leaping onto the wood beside you.

You turned to the side, Peter crouching beside you, fully suited up and phone now tucked safely away. You let yours fall to your lap as Spiderman now squinted at you, scrutinising the eye bags and red eyes as you stared back at him hoping he didn't say the one name you don't wanna hear from him.

"Hello totally-random-sad-bench-citizen whom I don’t know, you look like you need pizza and a joyride." You were pleasantly surprised when he held his hands out to you. People were whispering around you again, but this time, it was all directed at the superhero beside you. You stood, took his hand and let him help you to your feet, jumping on his back in what you both liked to call 'backpack buddy mode'. Within a second you were flying through the crisp air, you gasped, always in awe no matter how many times you'd done this. The feeling of flying through the air, far away from all your issues, was like nothing else. It was freeing.

You clung to Peter's shoulders and tried to get a good look at the city streets below, where everything looked like ants, and you felt like a God watching the world go by. If only you could stay up here with the birds, never touch the ground or have to focus on your problems like a grown adult.

Apparently and thankfully, Peter had already ordered pizza, and when you arrived at the rooftop of one of the taller apartment complexes in the city, there was a pizza box and cans of soda waiting. You wondered if he’d spotted you on your walk earlier, it would be too far-fetched to guess he saw you run into Wade and head to the cafe. You would be surprised if that were the case, seeing as he’d been like your small, chihuahua sized guard dog hellbent on keeping Wade away from you as you dealt with everything. Maybe he had realised what your therapist had already known or a year.

Wade was your problem and your solution all wrapped up in one messy little bow. You couldn’t get past this without him.

"I don't want a heart to heart over pizza and soda, just so you know." He set you down safely on the brick and shrugged in reply, walking over to the ledge to sit down.

"Duly noted, you want me to hear about my day then?" He clapped his hands together, and you smiled, nodding in genuine eagerness—hearing about someone else for a while might just do the trick of getting you out of your own head. And damn did you need out of it for a second.

"Okay, good, because you're not gonna believe what these bank robbers did this morning, these guys really get their routines from looney tunes or something." And so he began, pushing his mask up to his nose so he could 'chow and pow', the term you coined for talking shit and stuffing your face while you were at it. Very unattractive but inevitable when you were eating and deep into your rant.

Peter waved his arms about as he regaled the stupidity of a group of bank robbers and then the old lady who nearly got him hit by a bus, it was nice to lose yourself to his day for a while. You even laughed, a full, belly-aching laugh with snorts and all. You stayed on the roof until the sun began to set, and you ended laying on your back, legs dangling over the ledge as you and Peter fell into a comfortable silence. Staring at the clouds carving their snail pace across the sky and the shifting hues of the sky beyond them.

The pizza box and soda cans were empty, and for a moment, so was your mind. You could close your eyes, and everything was totally blank. Just a serene nothing as you listened to the faded sounds of the city and your own breathing.

"I know you don't want to talk about it."

Fuck. There it was. You cringed, squeezing your eyes shut as you readied yourself for whatever he was about to say.

"I'm here if you need me, I think I said all I wanted to say…" He trailed off and you recalled Peter arriving in your apartment the night of the breakup, his anger had almost rivalled your own anguish and he had definitely had plenty of choice things to say about… About Wade. About your relationship too, but mostly Wade.

"Breakups suck, and if you need another joyride and pizza hour with your friendly neighbourhood… With your friend, I'm here." Peter knocked your knuckles together, and you felt yourself relax, appreciative of where that had gone. Far from what you'd been expecting. You rolled your head to the side and shot him a smile, matching his own as you returned the weak fist bump.

"Thanks Pete,"

"Anytime… You need a ride home? Free of charge." You grinned as you pulled yourself up and he followed suit.

"Nah, can you drop me off at Faun Street? I think I need to walk in thoughtful silence for a bit." You mused, there was a lot you needed to get in order in your own head before you faced Wade again. You needed to decide whether you were gonna accept whatever he said and maybe try to work things out or put your foot down and decide… That it was maybe time you two were just friends again. Even though the thought alone made your stomach turn over itself uncomfortably.

"Yeah, okay, I get it." And with that, you were off, having the short and fun ride of binning your trash mid-air and being dropped off right across from the café you and Wade had sat in earlier today. You hugged Peter goodbye, and after he vanished around a corner, you rolled your shoulders and turned on your heel—headed toward the park that eventually would lead you back home.

You had to evaluate some things, like how much you could be okay with Wade's reasoning for the spectacle he made of your breakup. You think you'd need a while to get over how public and angry it was, he didn't need to be that cruel about it—no matter what. The thought he was trying to protect you in his own twisted way did make sense, but it didn't make it hurt any less. You weren't sure there was anyone for you after Wade, no one could full the shape of him in your heart, you doubted anyone would want to. So even if it had gone smoother, even if it had been cordial and he had gotten stuck forever in a black hole; you would have been more likely to steal a spaceship and save him yourself. Somehow.

You'd managed to find him in wieder places before. If he had more faith in you, let you into that side of his world more openly, then it wouldn't have been a problem in the first place. Maybe that was it, you had to break down that wall between Deadpool and Wade Winston Wilson, the division he put up to keep you away from the blood and guts of his operation—literally and figuratively Maybe then he could be more honest, still a dick but one that wouldn't break up with you on the basis of not being able to tell you the truth.

You sighed, running a hand over your face as you crossed onto the street and past an alleyway, poor timing on obscuring your vision there you'd admit later. Especially as multiple hands shot out and took hold of you all at once—your side hit the ground and your body scraped across the concrete harshly, your skin burned and the air escaped your lungs before you could make any type of distinguishable noise. You barely got a glance at the shadowy figures around you before a heavy force hit the back of your head, blacking out your vision and leaving you limp and unconscious.

End notes: Hope you enjoyed this part, let know know what you thought about it! The next part’s gonna be tons of fun! :)

[dindjarindiaries]

Bloodlust (Part Nine)

summary: You and Din return to Boba Fett’s palace and to your normal lives, adjusting to the new but pleasant change this job has given you.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x f!reader

warnings: mild smut, strong language, fluff, sexual references, food & depictions of eating

rating: M

word count: 4.485k

masterlist ⟹ part one

You look up from where you’ve been tying off your boot to watch as Din puts on his last piece of beskar—aside from his helmet. He’s testing all the pieces now, gently rotating his vambraces and easing each weapon into its appropriate place. The smile tugging at your lips is instinctive, especially after going so long without seeing him in his armor.

Sure, it’s covering up a tempting view, but if you’re being honest with yourself, it’s just as alluring on its own. For a moment, you study his shoulder pauldron and remember his wound underneath it, but the memory of you wrapping it just an hour or so ago brings a wave of relief. Hopefully, the weight of the metal isn’t too much on the blaster burn.

Din catches your eye from the hold, the corners of his mouth also tugging upward in a smile as he makes his way over to you. His gloved hand rises to your chin as you remain seated in your chair. His sparkling brown gaze reflects the blue lights of hyperspace as he searches your eyes.

You speak up before he has the chance to. “You were right.”

Din lifts an eyebrow. “That’s nothing new.” The amusement in his tone makes you huff as the furrow in his brow becomes more serious. “But what did I get right this time?”

Your hand covers his vambrace and runs along the metal. You remain cautious, so as to not accidentally activate any weapons, and let your fingertips trace and dips and curves in the hand-crafted metal. “You’re just as beautiful with your beskar on.”

Din’s gaze softens, his cheeks turning a light shade of red. “Beautiful?” You hum and nod. Din shrugs and looks away, his jaw circling in shyness. “I… don’t remember saying that.”

“It was something along those lines.” You’re the one who reaches for his face now, and you hold it as you urge him to look at you again. “I added my own twist to it.”

Din’s gloved hands gently hold your wrists. “Yeah?”

You slowly blink at him and nod. “Yeah.”

One of Din’s hands slides to the back of your neck, urging the two of you closer together until his mouth’s on yours. The kiss is slow and passionate, taking its time as if the ship won’t drop out of hyperspace at any moment. He tilts your head back more to deepen it, his mouth feeling every inch of your own like he’s savoring it. You’re just as eager and hungry for him, knowing that once your ship’s on dry land, Din’s helmet will keep you from seeking what you’ve been able to have freely this past week.

The two of you only pull apart when your lungs begin to burn for air. Din’s forehead rests against your own, his eyes still closed as he chuckles to himself. “I remember now.” His voice is rough from his lack of air, but his tone is soft. “I thought I’d be bolder in my armor.” Din opens his eyes and raises his brow. “Turns out it’s you who’s bolder with my armor on.”

You shrug and laugh. “We’ll see once that helmet goes on.”

“Right.” Din lifts his head from yours, though the movement is slow, as if he’s pushing against an invisible force to separate himself from you. He finds the helmet that sits in the hold and tightens his jaw. “I never thought I’d want to keep it off.”

You find his gloved hands and thread your fingers through his. “Well, a lot’s changed in the past week.”

Din’s gaze finds yours again. He tilts his head and gives it a shake. “No, nothing’s changed.” He steps close enough to press a kiss to your forehead. “The truth’s just finally come out.”

You beam and shake your head in shyness. Din walks back towards the hold and you stand from your chair to follow him. He takes his helmet between his hands and faces you. His brown eyes instantly give you a once-over, and you do the same to yourself. The corners of your mouth curl up in a devious smile. “Really?”

Din blinks a few times, snapping himself out of a daze. “What?”

You cross your arms and shift your weight to one hip. “After all those revealing outfits I had to wear this week, and it’s my tactical gear that does it for you?”

Din tucks his helmet under one arm and raises his free hand towards you. “Hey.” He gestures to himself. “Did you not just do the same to me?”

You fight the urge to smile. “That’s different.”

Din chuckles. “No, cyar’ika, it’s not.”

You relax again and blink at him sweetly, closing the distance between you and setting a hand on his cuirass. “Are you telling me ‘no,’ my love?”

Din takes a visible and audible deep breath, his jaw flexing in his private struggle. He lifts his helmet towards his head. “You’re lucky I’m more stubborn than you.” Din lowers the beskar over his head, concealing his face from view for the first time since your mission began a week ago.

Despite losing the view of his face, you can’t help beaming at the familiar look of his helmet. Din’s certainly a handsome man underneath the metal, but it was this look that you fell in love with long ago. Your hands hold his beskar face as you urge the metal to kiss your forehead.

Din’s hands hold your elbows. “I guess you’re okay with this view, too?” His modulated voice sends a sweet rush of nostalgia through you.

You nod. “More than okay.” You press a kiss to the T-shape of his visor. Din gives your elbows a gentle squeeze in silent response. “The voice is a plus.”

Din chuckles at that. His gloved fingers slide up your arms, beginning a gentle exploration over your shoulders and down your sides. “Is that what does it for you?”

You don’t break your gaze with his visor. “It always has.”

Din hums, the sound crackling through his modulator. “If your mouth wasn’t so tempting,” he lifts a hand to run his thumb over your lips, “I’d have a suggestion to make.”

Your brow lifts as a familiar knot ties low in your stomach. “I’m still listening.”

As if the galaxy’s plotted against you, the ship drops out of hyperspace. Din tilts his helmet and pats your cheek with his hand. “Another time.”

You exhale to push the frustration aside before you and Din head back to your seats in the cockpit. As Din lowers the ship towards what’s now Boba Fett’s palace, you can’t help smiling to yourself at the memory of your first descent a week ago. It feels like eons ago, but at the same time, it feels like no time’s passed at all. If only you had known then what you know now.

Once you fully land inside Boba’s hangar, Din powers down the ship and stands. He waits for you to do the same, his gloved hand finding your lower back the same way it has this entire week—as if Din doesn’t even have to think about making the motion. “Ready?”

You nod at him, beaming endlessly as he walks forward and takes both your packed bags in his arms. The two of you are instantly met by Boba and Fennec, similarly to your first arrival a few days ago, and your smile gets bigger.

Seeing them again lets the normalcy of your life before this job sets in. For as many good things as you got out of this job, you got just as many that were bad, and having a reminder of your normal life is nothing short of relieving. You and Din had certainly made the most of it, but now you can have all the good things you want: the familiar grittiness of your day-to-day life spent right by Din’s side.

“There they are.” Boba’s voice is a warm announcement as he opens his arms towards the two of you. “I was beginning to think you may never come back.”

You laugh at that, fighting any embarrassment the best you can. You’re suddenly jealous Din’s helmet hides his own for him. “I mean, the luxury of it all was nice,” you respond.

“Well, it sounds like you two fit right in.” Fennec smiles, a knowing expression painted on her face, as two of Boba’s staff—including the same Twi’lek woman who had helped you before—step forward to take the bags from Din.

“Thank you for your help.” Boba nods in respect. “What you’ve done for us is invaluable.”

“No need.” Din nods back. “As I said before, you helped us to get the kid back.” Din shifts his weight, and this time, it’s even harder to resist comforting him. “We’ll always be at your disposal.”

Boba offers one more nod to acknowledge his words. “I believe this calls for celebration, then.” He gestures with his arm behind him. “Follow me.”

Boba and Fennec lead the way up to the throne room. As you walk, you glance up at Din, your worry for him still instilled in you as you bring yourself close enough to his side to whisper to him. “Are you okay?”

Din turns his helmet to look at you. “Yeah.” His hand finds your lower back again, his helmet tilting at you. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You give him a once-over, hesitant to make him more upset. “Grogu.”

Din’s armored chest stalls for a moment, but he taps your back in reassurance anyway. “We can talk about it later.” His thumb runs over your back, and despite the layers of your tactical gear, you can feel the motion as if it was right upon your skin. “But don’t be worried. I’m all right.”

You search his visor the best you can. “Promise?”

Din nods dutifully. “Promise.”

You nod, content to believe him for now as you face the way ahead again. Din’s hand falls from your back, and as reluctant as you are to no longer feel his touch, you know it’s the best thing to do in this situation. You’re not the least bit ashamed of your relationship with Din, but the last thing you need to do is flaunt it.

When you arrive at the throne room, there’s already a lavish table set up with a massive feast, certainly more than the four of you could ever dream of consuming in one sitting. You huff as you take your place next to Din at the table. “Looks like we’re not done with luxury just yet.”

“It’s the least we can do to thank you.” Boba removes his helmet and smiles with appreciation. He hesitates as he looks at Din. “I know a feast may be a bit of an obstacle, but…”

“That’s all right.” You wire your jaw shut to keep it from dropping when Din lifts his helmet off his head. “One more meal won’t hurt.”

Boba and Fennec share a look, but you can only notice it out of your periphery. You can’t stop staring at Din, as if his face wasn’t just exposed to you a matter of minutes ago. He raises his brow with amusement at you.

Shit. If he’s doing this on purpose, he won’t hear the end of it later.

“In that case…” Boba takes a breath and nods towards the table. “Take your pickings, as much as you’d like.”

You manage to pry your gaze away from Din’s to face Boba with a small smile. “Thank you.” You focus on your food as you load up your plate. The heavy weight of Din’s bare gaze is like a thermal heat source, and every time he glances your way, you can feel the warmth of it on your skin.

It’s purposeful, then.

You only look up at him when you’re finishing a ronto kebab, pulling the perfectly roasted meat and flora from the stick with your teeth as your gaze never once strays from his. Din’s jaw visibly tightens as he finally looks away, but it’s not the heartiness of the meal that’s made Din’s face flush. You smile to yourself in victory—but it’s come at the cost of the knot in your stomach returning.

“So,” Fennec begins, using a tone that sends you into alert as you stop what you’re doing and look at her. “You two were truly the talk of the town during this retreat.” She kicks her legs up on the table and takes another bite of her bantha leg. “How’d you do it?”

You watch Din’s brow crease at her question. “What do you mean?”

“How should I put it?” Fennec shares a mischievous look with Boba and shrugs. “You were the ‘it’ couple.” You look down at your food and control your expression the  most you can. “All our sources confirmed this.”

Din answers without being fazed. “We were new faces.” He takes a sip of his drink and returns Fennec’s shrug. “That’s what happens in those circles. They always want to know more about the people they know the least.”

“That’s true.” Fennec smiles to herself. “We didn’t realize you two worked so well together.”

Working well together is a damn understatement, but you stop that line of thinking before it can bring on memories that are too dangerous to share in a place such as this. Din looks at you, and you nod at him before looking at Fennec. “Well, we’ve been partners for a long time now.”

“Ah, yes.” Boba’s the one who speaks up now, leaning back in his chair as he looks at Fennec. “I wonder how well we would’ve fared if it were us.”

Fennec tilts her head. “Not nearly as well as them.”

Din exhales gently. “Performances aside,” he cuts his gaze over to you, “let’s make sure the business side is all clear.”

“Certainly.” Boba crosses his arms and nods at Din. “Your intel has already proven to be very helpful. I hadn’t been aware the Hutt twins were… well, let’s just say displeased with my new position.”

“We’ve strengthened our fortifications,” Fennec adds. “Thanks to your warning, we’re now prepared for any kind of force they might try to send our way.”

Din nods at that. “Good. I’m glad we were of use to you.”

Boba and Fennec exchange a look before Boba speaks again. “We were, however, curious as to what your ‘unfinished business’ was.”

Din furrows his brow. “Pardon?”

Boba’s gaze slides over to you. “The last time we were in contact, you referenced some ‘unfinished business.’”

You scoff and take a long sip from your drink. “Let’s just say being the ‘it’ couple wasn’t ideal.”

“I see.” Boba’s brow lifts in genuine concern. “I do apologize for any hardships this job may have caused.”

Din shakes his head. “Don’t worry.” He steals one quick glance at you. “It all worked out.”

You have to sip your drink again to hide your smile. You don’t miss the smile Fennec earns as she, unsurprisingly, catches on to the unspoken message. “I’m sure it had its advantages. I mean, the Cantonican Sea is an infamous place of luxury.” She crosses her arms and smiles wider. “Did you enjoy swimming?”

You nearly spit out the drink you haven’t swallowed yet, but you maintain your composure just as you’d trained yourself to do all week. Even Din has to take a break to look at his plate as he shrugs. “We… weren’t focused on recreation, swimming included.”

“Understandable, and appreciated.” Fennec lifts her cup and toasts it in your direction. “I just heard some whispers about you two and water, so… I wasn’t sure.”

You and Din share a sly look. It takes everything in you not to burst out laughing. Once the memory of your kiss in the water washes over you, though, the last thing you feel is amusement. You cross your legs and take another sip of your drink. “Well,” you begin once you’ve swallowed your drink, “like he said, we weren’t really focused on recreation, but we did have to enter the water to keep up our act.”

“Yes, of course.” Boba answers this time, nodding to emphasize his understanding.

“And you’re right, Fennec.” You don’t look at Din, trying not to make it too obvious for them to figure out, but you do enjoy watching him shift in his chair as you go on. “The waters were simply luxurious.”

Fennec hides her smile with her cup. “I can imagine.”

“All in all, it really was a nice little vacation.” You gesture with your head over to Din. “And we got shit done.” You raise your drink. “Looks like it was a win for everyone.”

“Indeed,” Boba agrees as everyone lifts their drinks with you. The toast ends, and as soon as you and Din both clearly prepare to depart—with Din having slid his helmet on once again—the Twi’lek woman from before enters the throne room in a rush.

“Lord Fett,” she announces, cutting a nervous glance at you and Din, “something’s missing from each of the bags.”

You go stiff at Din’s side, your thumb circling the ring that’s still around your finger. Boba just looks at the two of you with a hardly concealed smile. “I know.” He lifts a reassuring hand in her direction. “That’s all right.”

The Twi’lek offers him a confused look, but she steps away anyway. You and Din glance at each other, and the smile that overtakes your lips cannot be stopped.

“Well,” Boba sighs, despite the smile on his own lips, “enjoy your nuptials.” He gestures with both hands to you and Din. “Consider those a gift for the occasion.”

Din just nods at his friend in gratitude, likely too embarrassed about being caught to say anything. You just chuckle and join him in wishing Boba and Fennec a proper farewell. Din sets his hand on your back as the two of you leave, and you can feel the warmth of their stares on your back.

As soon as you’re out of earshot, Din tilts his helmet. “Damn.” He looks over at you. “I really thought we were gonna get away with it.”

You finally release the laugh you’ve been holding, letting your head fall against his arm. Your hands meet and your fingers lace through his own. “I guess subtlety really isn’t our specialty.” You lift your entwined hands and kiss his gloved knuckles. “Even when we’re not acting.”

Din gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “We were never truly acting, cyar’ika.”

You beam at him, resting your head against his arm again. “You’re right.”

The rest of your walk back to the ship is spent in silence, though it’s contemplative. The space between you is as humid as the air before a storm, with something electric brewing there. You know it’ll overpower both of you as soon as you get the ship into the air.

These thoughts make it a blur as you board the ship and help Din to get it running. You have no idea what Din’s set as your next destination, and quite frankly, you don’t care. All you can think about is waiting until you’re safely in hyperspace to stand and make your way over to him, letting him swivel in his chair to face you before you hold the lip of his helmet in your hand.

“So,” you begin, your voice soft and sweet as you go on, “what the hell was that all about?”

Din’s gloved fingers drum along his armored thighs. “What do you mean?” Din’s modulated voice is just as soft, proving he does, in fact, know what the hell that was all about.

“It seemed like you got quite a rise back there out of me having to see your face.” You run your thumb over his visor and lift your brow. “Is that true?”

Din tilts his helmet, his hands rising to meet your waist. “Well, that depends on how it actually made you feel.”

“Yeah?” You make yourself comfortable, easing yourself upon him until his armor chest is against your own. “Should I show you, then?”

Din’s hands travel around you, securing themselves much closer to your back and thighs. “It might be easier than using your words.”

You wrap your arms around his neck. “I agree.”

With that, Din stands, easily taking you with him as you wrap your ankles around each other to help you stay around his waist. Neither he nor you are patient enough to wait until you’re further back in the hold, and Din sets your back against the first wall he can find, his body content to hold you in place. He frees a hand from you to grab his helmet, but you stop him, holding his wrist as you give his helmet a once-over.

“Wait.” Your voice is breathless in your desire as you bite back a smile. “Keep it on.”

Din tilts his helmet. “I’m not sure I can resist you, cyar’ika.”

“Let’s at least try.” You hold his helmet between your hands. “I fell in love with this face, too.” Your fingers trace down his beskar until you take a hold of his cowl, tugging it down enough for you to get access to the warmth of his neck. “Didn’t you have a suggestion about this, anyway?” Your breath fans over his skin. “Might as well try it out.”

Din exhales, a trembling breath that becomes a sigh once your lips latch onto his neck. “Damn, you’re convincing.”

You smile against his skin, continuing your sweet attack on him as he easily gets the two of you into place. For as new as some of this is, it’s already become easy for you to learn each other, with every movement being perfectly purposeful and breathtakingly gentle. You’re content to remain buried in the warmth of Din’s neck and to hear the pleasured breaths falling from underneath his helmet until he consumes every last sense and nerve ending in your body.

That’s all it takes to make you want to fall apart in the sweetest way. You stay buried where you are for now, but your lips part only to spell out your pleasure to Din in a way you could never comprehend—but that’s enough for him.

“Yeah, cyar’ika,” Din pants, the metal of his helmet resting upon your head as if he’s trying to bury himself in you, too. “I feel it, too.”

You strengthen your resolve and tighten your grasp around him, lifting your lips to his skin again as you kiss it the way you would his lips. Anything else you have to say, or at least would say if your body wasn’t already speaking for you, remains a hum against his hot skin.

“Atta’ girl,” Din rasps, if his voice can even be called that. It’s rough in the way you’ve only heard in moments like these, sweet yet forced through the tightness of his throat you can feel underneath your lips. “That’s…” he has to pause to speak to you the same way you’ve been speaking to him, “shit, that’s perfect.”

His words make you never want to stop, but your actions are fueling him in a way that makes your resolve crumble in the most pleasing way. The more it intensifies, the less you can keep yourself in place, and soon you break apart to lift your head and cry out for him. You at least manage to stay close for now, your forehead finding his helmet as you ground yourself to him.

As if he isn’t already grounding himself to you in the most beautiful and utterly perfect way.

But you need more. It’s hard to imagine how you can handle it, but you grasp onto whatever you can get. Your hands at the back of his neck find loose strands of hair that you take a hold of, tugging tight but only in a way you know he can handle. When Din finds your most perfect place, your head falls back to meet the metal behind you, your body trying to both stay as close as possible and also distance itself from what should be an unattainable pleasure.

That’s when Din breaks. “Fuck.” He lifts a hand from you to tear off his helmet in one smooth movement, the beskar hitting the floor and rolling away carelessly. His lips are on yours a moment later, each intelligible word and sound you have for one other being passed on from each touch of your tongue as you become one in the way the stars themselves surely intended.

It’s not long after that you at last fall apart, and Din soon does the very same. Each heavy breath you take against his lips is another sweet pleasure, your mind trying to fight through the haze of your love so you can focus on the golden flecks of light that enter Din’s gaze the more you return from your place in the stars. Your shared heaven, however, isn’t an easy place to escape, and so you wait with your forehead against his own for him to help you back to reality.

“So,” Din’s first word is a pure rasp, his voice now roughened from the way he’s sweetly abused it, “where do you want to get married?”

You can’t help laughing at that, shaking your head as you kiss him. “How about wherever the hell we land next?”

Din smiles and chuckles with you. “Sounds perfect.”

Your hands, which lost themselves in his hair the moment he tore his helmet from his head, continue to move through his brown waves in consideration. Din’s lips are already red and swollen from your sweet connection, his hair mussed from both your handiwork and his helmet. He’s flushed in the most perfect way, and you’re certain you don’t look much different.

And to think just a week ago, you weren’t sure if he’d even be able to pretend he thought of you as anything more than a business partner.

“So much for what happens on the job stays on the job, right?” You smile at him, recalling the words he’d said the moment you first flew into Canto Bight.

“Right.” Din returns your smile before his lips brush against yours. “Fuck that.”

With that, he captures your mouth with his again, an addictive yet beautiful display of affection that says more than those simple three words ever could—and promises so much more for the future you’ll finally have together.

masterlist ⟹ part one

[whatthefuckisasweep]

Famous author william denbrough, everybody!

[kanansdume]

I've recently been watching these very interesting Star Wars video essays on YouTube (yeah I know, a rare breed) and it brings up these comments Lucas has made about how he views Star Wars as almost like a silent film in terms of how important the visuals are to him in comparison to the dialogue. But this essay also points out how important Lucas finds all of the "rhyming" moments in his trilogies and the way he utilizes them to remind you of something else for emotional or thematic reasons. And there's so many of them, both in visuals and in dialogue, and it's interesting to consider how important this is to him, the repetition for a purpose as well as the storytelling through visuals above everything else and then to look at Star Wars since the Prequels came out and realize how little has really been able to match up to those ideals since then.

The ONLY thing that's come out since the Prequels that I think really hits these two things the same way is, in fact, Andor. One of the things I noticed about the way people discussed Andor as it was airing in a way I haven't really seen for any of the other shows or films was the visual SYMBOLOGY. So many times I saw people noticing the Imperial cog everywhere, from the aerial shot of Narkina 5 as the prisoners escape to the architecture of Mon Mothma's house. There were people picking up on the use of items in Luthen's shop that are familiar from other things to give this idea that Luthen is from another time, he's attempting to preserve this world he lost, that if you're not looking closely enough you won't notice what he's really saying or doing with this shop. The color choices for the different locations and people got analyzed because the people involved spoke about how they intentionally utilized color to SEND A MESSAGE about the characters and the world. We know that the people who made the costumes and sets really worked hard to treat Star Wars almost like a period drama and study the history of the franchise as if it were a real place so that the things they came up with felt like they belonged in this world everyone knows so well even if it's completely new. And of course there were all of the myriad references to things from Rogue One, the constant repetition of "climb", the sunset on the beach, etc.

Nearly EVERY SHOT in this show was created with so much intention behind it in order to say something meaningful about the characters, the world, this specific story they're in, and the overall saga of Star Wars itself. It's insane how much greater impact this show was able to achieve through the incredibly careful usage of visual symbols and thematic repetitions, much like Lucas did before them. It feels like they didn't just study the history of the galaxy far far away, but they studied the history of STAR WARS and what Lucas was trying to do and say with this story. They peeled back his onion a bit more and were able to create something that really has that same visual feel even when it's not created for a child audience. It also is experimenting with its narrative style through its structure and through Cassian's character being allowed to be somewhat more reactive than proactive, and while that didn't work for everyone, it does feel like it's following in Lucas's footsteps of experimentation through Star Wars. Push the boundaries of what Star Wars is and can be and what you can say with it.

But this only works because they peeled the onion back enough to TRULY understand all of the messages Lucas was sending with it. They got the heart of Star Wars and despite its lack of space wizards, despite the lack of most major characters in the Saga, this was a show that honestly got the message more than just about anything else Star Wars has put out since the Prequels. The choices between selflessness and selfishness, the themes about how you always HAVE to make a choice even when it feels like you don't have any (sometimes ESPECIALLY when it feels like you don't have any), and how important it is to make sure to choose the path of compassion above everything else. The themes of connection to others, the symbiotic circle and the impact even the smallest person can have on world around them, it's RIGHT THERE and it's CENTRAL to Andor's storyline.

So yes, it experiments a little with narrative structure, but it's possibly the most Star Wars thing to exist Revenge of the Sith because it honestly truly GETS what Star Wars was about, both in its themes and in its filmmaking. A lot of people said that Andor didn't feel like Star Wars to them, usually because of the lack of space wizards and the fact that it's not a story aimed at children. But to me, Andor is EXACTLY what Star Wars is and has always been. They're stretching the boundaries of what Star Wars can be, but it's saying the exact same things Star Wars has always said, it's just saying it slightly differently. This doesn't feel like fanfiction to me, not really. Unlike things like the Mandoverse or the books, Andor isn't just taking some of the toys out of the sandbox and going to play with them somewhere else. Andor is IN that sandbox. It's building a slightly different sandcastle, but it's still within the sandbox, using the same sand that Lucas did.

[sineala]

18+ 616 Steve/Tony Discord Book Club: Avengers: Twilight (2024) #1-6

It's Avengers week for Book Club on the 616 Steve/Tony Discord! I promised everyone we'd read this as soon as the last issue hit Marvel Unlimited, and that just happened, so it's time -- we're reading Avengers: Twilight! No sparkly vampires here! This is a brand-new six-issue miniseries by Chip Zdarsky and Daniel Acuña.

Twilight is an AU set in the dystopian future of Earth-TRN1096, so even if you haven't been keeping up with current comics you can pick this up -- you don't need to know anything about canon. And you definitely want to read this, because it's the Steve/Tony event of the year. Yes, really.

In the year 2050, America has become an authoritarian surveillance state. Almost all the superheroes -- including Tony -- died in a disaster that happened decades ago. Steve is one of the few Avengers left, and he's not an Avenger anymore. They took the serum away from him a long time ago. The country's going to hell and he knows everything is wrong. But he's old, he's in no shape to fight, all his friends are dead, fascist government propaganda has ground their reputations into the dirt, and he's too depressed to care about anything anymore. As far as I can tell, he wishes he'd died with the rest of the Avengers.

(Yes, I promise there's Steve/Tony here.)

Then Steve meets the resistance. They've figured out how to replicate the super-soldier serum -- and there's only one man it was ever going to work on. Welcome back, Captain America.

And then Steve finds out Tony's still alive. The government's been keeping Tony's disembodied head in a jar on the Raft, and they've been coercing him to design armor for them. Steve has a Totally Normal amount of feelings about this.

So it's time for Steve to rescue Tony. He'll carry him out of the Raft himself!

Yes, this is a six-issue miniseries that devotes two entire issues to Steve personally rescuing Tony and bringing him back to consciousness and reconnecting with him. I mean it. This is the actual plot.

With Tony at his side, Steve can assemble a new team of Avengers, and maybe he's got the strength left to save the country one last time from the supervillain who's behind it all. (You get one guess about who wants to turn America into a fascist hellscape.)

So, yeah. This is good. You want to read this. Right now. With us.

Come join us on You Gave Me A Home, an 18+ comics Steve/Tony Discord server!  We still have the custom URL discord.gg/stevetony!

[r4spb3rry-t4rt]

LOOK AT HIS SMILE

LOOK AT IT NOW

:D

Doc face canon from @w3llf4ll

[archersartcorner]

Doodles based on the scene where Spock melds with Saavik to get more info on where she saw the things and when they finish Saavik looks into Spock’s face and sees her own terror mirrored back. Yippee!

[hyperdramas]

aftermath (act two) | lee seokmin

part: 2 of 3 (part 1 here) | warnings & playlist are mentioned in part 1

word count: 2.1k words (lord bless)

Seokmin was starting to think he was incredibly drunk on something or finally going insane, but he couldn't stop watching you as you slept on his couch, face pressed into his silky white pillow as drool fell from the side of your pretty, parted lips.

It wasn't like him to wake up early on the weekends, but here he was, sitting in silence with nothing but a pair of sweatpants on as he watched you fast asleep on his couch. He was worried about you overnight, even going as far as to wake up from his own sleep to quietly make his way downstairs and check on you, adjusting the thermostat or covering you up if you were to push your blankets off of you.

Seokmin was caring too much, and he knew it. He cringed at himself as he watched the sun start to peak out from the clouds, basking your sleeping face in a warm glow. Even though you looked like you had fought a ghost in your sleep, your hair was delicately spewed over the pillow, falling in waves down the side of your face.

As the sunlight hit your eyes just right, you squinted them open, taking in your surroundings before you sit up in a jolt, surprised. You had forgotten that you had accidently crashed at MLB's star pitcher Lee Seokmin's million-dollar apartment for the night.

Not mentioning that you didn't actually mean to do it, either.

You slowly scanned the room, too surprised and embarrassed to take in the beautiful view or sleek white that was the pristine living room you were sleeping in.

"Good morning." Seokmin said softly, and you nodded, averting your eyes to the warm, white blanket on top of you. ".....Oh, um—Good morning." You replied back, and Seokmin stood up moments later, cracking his neck without flinching as he made his way to the kitchen.

Your eyes traced over Seokmin's back as he walked, taking note of his broad shoulders, study, muscled arms, and sculpted waist. He really took time to work on himself, and you could see it more and more as you watched him.

"Are you uh—are you gonna stay for breakfast?" Seokmin asked awkwardly, pulling out a pan from a cabinet as he opened the fridge door.

This was so weird—you had (somehow) found your way into a popular celebrity's apartment, and not only was he not being rude to you or making you feel lower than him, but letting you spend the night, sleep on his couch, and offering to make you breakfast. Seokmin wasn't like the other self-centered celebrities you had heard about before—he was down-to-earth, real about what he said and did. It was admirable to you.

You were attracted to that, you wouldn't lie. Lee Seokmin wasn't just a good looking baseball player with raw pitching talent, but an admirable person with a strong and dominant, yet sweet disposition.

"If not, you're free to go. I don't mind." Seokmin had added, and you remembered what he asked you, clearing your throat as you nodded shyly. "No, no—I can....I can stay."

Seokmin let out a quiet sigh of relief, surprising himself in the process. Why? He had a faint idea as to why, but didn't want to say it to himself or even think it to himself. That was the furthest thing away from the truth. There's no way that could be the reason. Right?

After twenty minutes of stiff chatting from you and Seokmin, the food is ready, and you sit on the couch, trying not to gorge yourself on the delicious eggs and bacon lying in front of you. Seokmin watches you as you eat, biting back a smile as he senses you trying to hold back.

"You can eat however, okay? I'm not going to judge you." Seokmin let out a little chuckle, and you looked up at him, deflating a bit as you matched his laugh and you took a bite of egg.

Not only was Lee Seokmin sculpted by the gods, with his sharp features and strong body—but a great facial expression reader.

"I'm sorry if I came off as weird yesterday for asking you stay the night with me. I had no intentions of doing anything..." Seokmin trails off, face betraying him as his cheeks start to warm you. You stare at him, slowly but surely getting the memo as he continues. "Anything that you wouldn't want to do. I just, shit, I—"

"—don't want to be alone." You finish for him, remembering what he had said last night. Seokmin nods once, looking back down at his nearly finished plate. "Yeah...uh, yeah."

You shake your head, looking up from your plate as you meet his gaze. "No, it's okay. You didn't come off weird at all."

"You're a really bad liar." Seokmin jeers playfully, and you can't help but laugh, nodding as you tuck your hair behind your ear. "Ouch."

The table falls quiet again as the scraping of plates can be heard, and you finish your plate, fork down as you look at Seokmin. He's on his phone, frown evident as his eyes scan something. You've never seen him frown before, at least in the time you've known him (that being a singular night), but you could automatically tell you hated it.

"Hey, what's wrong?" You ask, and Seokmin looks up at you, eyes hard as he doesn't say anything for a while. The air around him is thick with a certain feeling you can't seem to describe, and it makes you feel small, insignificant to him. "Ah, I'm—I'm sorry. It's not my business."

"No, no." Seokmin says hurriedly, phone hitting the glass table as a heavy quietness filles the dining room. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it." Seokmin lies straight through his teeth to you, and you don't catch on, nodding as you finish your cup of water.

The thing that "wasn't your business" was a text from Seokmin's PR manager. He was due at a photoshoot almost thirt minutes ago, and she was livid that he wasn't ready to be dressed and filming the video ad.

Seokmin didn't want to go—there were a million other things he could be doing rather than sitting in a stiff chair for hours on end as staff spent their time doing nothing but retouching the smallest little smudges of his makeup and hair while Seokmin was stuck posing endlessly for a tiny, four-page spread.

He had never skipped out on something planned like this, but he was going to do it now. He deserved to feel good for once—free, unbound by any time-constricting schedules that he wasn't interested in.

"Are you doing anything important today?" Seokmin asks, standing up as he takes his plate from his seating spot. He walks over to you as well, cologne wafting over you as your plate is stacked on top of his. "No?" You answer, although it sounds like a question—what is going on? Why is Seokmin so invested in you? It wasn't a bad thing, necessarily, but you were beyond confused and surprised.

"Do you want to—uh, wanna stay over for the day? I mean—I don't have anything better to do, and I still don't want to be alone." Seokmin couldn't believe the words coming from his mouth, but he couldn't stop talking. You were making him nervous.

"Seokmin...." Boy, were you getting mixed signals from this guy. He had just met you yesterday, and here he was, asking you to stay the day and keep him company. It was a miracle you had come into his apartment, and now he wanted you to stay longer?

You didn't want to believe it, but your gullible, love-sick heart sat there thinking this was a sign that he was into you. There were so many things that screamed absolutely not, some being the fact you and him just met yesterday night, every conversation you have had with him was a mess of awkward sentences, and the simple fact he was a celebrity, for God's sakes.

"Sure. Why not?" You shrug, and Seokmin smiles, eyes lingering on your body for a bit longer than usual before he makes his way to the sink. You squirm in your seat, chest on fire as you watch him scrub away at the dishes. What was this feeling burning deep in your chest? Why were you feeling it now, while being with Seokmin?

"And that's how I got that knot on my head." Seokmin chuckles as you run your finger over the picture in the photobook. His eyes glance at you as he gages your reaction, and he feels his heart jump a little when your hand brushes against his.

One thing led to another, and here you were, sitting on Seokmin's bed as you looked through photo albums he had stashed away in his scarily neat closet. You would have never thought you've been able to say that you've sat in a celebrity's bed before and looked at their baby pictures, but here you were.

"It looks painful." You muse, noticing how Seokmin's eyes still squint like they do now, when he laughs. "I mean, you're crying," You laugh, and Seokmin just shakes his head, ghost of a smile on his lips as he answers with a simple, "It hurt back then, yeah."

You close the photobook, handing it back to him as he takes the rest of the stack you've already looked through and returned it back to its rightful place.

Seokmin shut the door to his walk-in closet, coming back to sit on the bed as you stared out the window, having a perfect view of the pristine pool down below. Seokmin's hands were sweaty, and his hands were clammy, but he couldn't stop the words that were bubbling through his chest and to his mouth.

"Would it be weird if I told you that I loved you?" And there it went. Seokmin had talked without thinking again, and threw you for a loop.

None of this was normal—you and Seokmin had created a bond over today, even if you started out as strangers just last night. He knew you now, and you knew him, as if you two had been long-lost friends who had just rekindled their old memories and started off again from where they had stopped before.

Seokmin had made himself more than just a popular, talented baseball player to you—he was just a normal person, having fears and struggles just as the rest of the human population did. He wasn't this untouchable, closed-off celebrity who just smiled and did everything perfect all the time. He was just like you—lost, confused, and alone, lacking in all the departments he thought he should have been ahead in.

"A little, yeah." You answered after a while of thinking, and Seokmin nodded, looking away as he let out a sigh. "Yeah, you're right. I'm—I'm sorry. I got caught up in the moment."

"Seokmin, I want to stay in this moment forever. With you." You muttered, and he turned back to you, eyes raking over you slowly as he took you all in. He looked at your sparkling eyes, warm cheeks, and small voice.

"As insane and ridiculous as this whole situation is, I think I love you, Seokmin." You whisper, and he moves towards you as you follow his lead, now just inches away from each other as he makes the first move. His hands are slow, slender fingers coming to move your hair from your face as he tucks it behind your ear.

Seokmin's too far into you to back out now, and he goes all the way, kissing you slow as you melt under him. All the tension between you two melts in the matter of a few seconds, and you cling to his shirt, sighing under him as his hands dance across your waist.

"I—fuck." Seokmin's words are beyond broken as he pulls away from you, and he doesn't even try to fix them, staring at you in your soft, breathless glory. You're still reeling from the kiss that just happened, mind somewhere else as your lips still tingle with the feeling.

"Are you still with me?" Seokmin questions softly, hand on your thigh as he looks at you with those eyes—those sharp, hungry ones you see when he's strategizing with his team or preparing to pitch.

"Yeah, I am," You breathe out, eyes meeting Seokmin's as you blush. You're in heaven, you think, because the feeling that you feel right now is something you'd never want to give up.

You'd never want to give Seokmin up.

But would he feel the same way about you?

feedback & reblogs are so so appreciated! let me know what you think lyrnation