#and it almost feels like an apology from the writers for how they did early season thomas

[greenerteacups]

You like downtown abbey! I almost did not watch this show because frankly a bunch of rich people from early 1900s England did not interest much but the writing is so good and the characters so intereting that I was rooting for them by episode 2. Anyway. What prompted me to write this ask is: do you have any recs for shows/movie/book with great characters? The specifc genre doesn't matter much. I'm curious to know what media have your favorite characters (besides HP of course)

I do like the Edwardian rich people show! The bastards got me again. It's such an interesting period — I think that the early seasons are the best because you can see the writers are still trying to *say something* about Edwardian Britain, especially the decline of the class system in England during and after World War I. The whole war plotline is really great, some of the show's best writing, and it hits series heights when it's doing the initial aftermath stuff (also not coincidentally the season where they develop Thomas's character beyond 'evil gay footman.')

My favorite characters are scattered all over the place — off the top of my head, Wuthering Heights, Sense & Sensibility, Jane Eyre, Middlemarch, Brideshead Revisited, anything by P.G. Wodehouse; more recently, White Teeth, The Goldfinch, Atonement (book and movie), My Brilliant Friend, and Wolf Hall (books first, but also the TV show). In terms of straight movies, Chimaera was the most recent one that moved me deeply; also When Harry Met Sally, the Before trilogy, The Social Network, Inception, the Daniel Craig bond saga but ONLY Casino Royale and Skyfall and the 35 minutes of Quantum of Solace I actually like; The Royal Tenenbaums and The Fantastic Mr. Fox and The Grand Budapest Hotel, and basically anything Wes Anderson before he got too in his own head about shit; Downton Abbey for fun, The Sopranos for different fun, Mad Men for the most fun of all, and Better Call Saul but only in small doses, because otherwise I'll get brain worms and start crawling on the ceiling about stuff. So, uh. That's a start.

[daisymbin]

for lovers who hesitate - choi seungcheol

warnings: cheating ex, mentions of pregnancy (not reader), shotgun marriage (not reader), some curse words, mentions of blood (seungcheol in a fight), some angst (mostly on seungcheol's part, some of reader's towards the end) + this is a long fic so I'm sure I missed out stuff, my apologies. please let me know what I missed out so I can add them in!

pairings: choi seungcheol x reader

genre: fake dating, resurface of old feelings (reader) & a down bad choi seungcheol

wc: 13k (not sure what happened i was aiming 3500-5000 but oh well.)

a/n: 13k words...my longest fic on here yet..... this took quite awhile, even proofreading was a challenge, so I hope you guys enjoyed this one! but fr, I early respect and admire authors who always belt out 30k word fics, it's really not easy i don't even wanna think about it. it's one thing to get a long fic done and another to proofreading it all oof. ... and no writer really only proofreads it once

check out my masterlist! // cheol's m.list

“you've got mail~” seokmin sings down the hallway of your shared apartment, “it looks like a wedding invite…” his voice trails off, “are any of our friends getting married? why didn't I receive one?”

seokmin's question was reasonable, you did both have the same friend group, you grew up together, having tons and tons of mutual friends, you went almost everywhere together. he's like the brother you never had. but now he's got your interest piqued as well. who could it be?

on your hand sits a wedding invitation, beautifully adorned with gold accents, pink flowers litter the edges of the invite, a bright pop of colour in contrast to the plain white.

seokmin snatches the invite out of your hand, opening the invite as he reads, “you are cordially invited to celebrate the joy of han- what the fuck? is this a joke?” seokmin shuts the invite close and crumples it, “what the hell does that guy want?”

“han minjun?” you asked as curiosity plagues your mind. seokmin’s reaction only amplifies your own confusion, and you reach out to grab the crumpled invitation from his hands, smoothing it out with trembling fingers. his name stares back at you, a name you had once thought you’d never have to see or hear again. but here it is, boldly printed, like a ghost from the past come to haunt you.

“han minjun…” you murmur, your voice quieter now, filled with a mixture of disbelief and absurdity. the memories come rushing back like a tidal wave, each one hitting you harder than the last. you remember the good days first, the laughter, the late-night talks, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world. but those sweet memories are soon overshadowed by the darker ones, the ones you had worked so hard to forget.

you remember the way he’d become distant, how the warmth in his eyes had faded, and the excuses he’d given whenever you asked what was wrong. you remember the pit in your stomach when he’d cancel plans at the last minute, claiming he was swamped with work, even though you could hear the laughter of friends in the background whenever he called.

then there was that one night, the night everything shattered. you had gone to his apartment, unannounced, carrying takeout and hoping to surprise him. the sight that greeted you instead was something you’d never forget. minjun had been in his living room, his hand tugging on another girl’s hair, the other on her waist as they makeout heavily. their light giggles echoing through the walls you thought you knew so well. you’d dropped the food in shock, the containers spilling onto the floor, and the way minjun’s face had paled when he saw you… it was a moment forever etched into your heart.

“its not what it looks like,” he’d said, scrambling for an explanation, but all you felt was betrayal, the heartache, the realization that the person you’d trusted had broken you in a way you never thought possible.

you come back to the present as seokmin's voice pulls you back, “oh i dropped a post it, ‘hope to see you there - kim hanna’ who the hell is kim hanna?” seokmin reaches for the invite again, his eyes scanning the words imprinted on the paper, “kim hanna…isnt she the girl he cheated on you with? that little bi- how dare she send this invi- SHE'S MARRYING HIM?” seokmin's mouth ran faster than body allowed, never finishing his sentence, but you heard and understood every word.

you snatch the invite back. the wedding is in 2 weeks.

are you hurt? no. heartbroken? no. sad? no. upset? just a little bit. angry? oh yes, yes you were. all the anger still simmering beneath the surface as you grip the wedding invite tightly. seokmin watches you with concern, his earlier frustration shifting into worry as he notices the way anger starts to consume you.

“you okay?” he asks gently, placing a hand on your shoulder.

you softened, “yeah i just… i can’t believe he’s getting married after everything he did.”

seokmin’s grip tightens, his protective brother instincts kicking in. “you don’t have to go,” he says firmly. “and if you decide to, you won’t go alone. i’ll be right there with you, you know the boys will be too. whatever you need.”

his words bring a small sense of comfort, but the invitation still feels like a dagger, reopening wounds you thought had finally healed. “oh I'm definitely going,”

“why?”

“just because. & I need a date-”

“I can be your date.”

“no you can't.”

“why not?”

“because i need my date to be my fake boyfriend. i cant show up all single to an ex's wedding & everyone knows we grow up together. we're practically siblings we would never ever date each other! that's disgusting."

seokmin's fake dramatic gasp only leaves your laughing, the anger that once resided is now long forgotten. “how can you say that?” he continues, “don't you watch movies? don't you read books? or even better, fanfiction? that's like a really popular trope and it's popular for a reason! why? because it's real, it happens. what if I'm in love with you and you just don't know it? then what? you could have seriously hurt my feelings!”

“yeah could have, that means I didn't. and don't think I forgot about the time we all played truth or dare and chan dared you to kiss me and you literally threw up from how repulsed you were by me. how could you possibly be in love with me? unless...you puked because you were nervous.." you said as you wiggled your eyebrows disturbingly. “also what hell fanfiction do you read? why didnt i know about that?”

“EW!!!" he screams as he steps away from you, "AS IF YOU COULD EVER MAKE ME NERVOUS!"

“& the fanfiction? what do you read? come on, spill!”

“that's none of your business.”

“seok-”

“beyonce x reader.” it was almost as if he was dying to tell you.

the laugh you burst out only brings relief to seokmin, now he knows you're really okay. you've moved on, just angry at the audacity of them. “please beyonce would never pick you.” you joked as you got up from the sofa. “come on, be serious, this is serious stuff. I need a fake boyfriend.”

“ask seungcheol.” seokmin answers easily without missing a beat, as if the answer was obvious.

“why seungcheol?” you heart raced at the mere idea of seungcheol being your date for the night, let alone boyfriend.

“because…he never says no to you. like ever,” he gives a brief, small smile before he turns to walk away. “oh and also, don't you think he'd fit the role perfectly?”

[—]

but that's what happens when seokmin plants the idea in your head, because you now find yourself in seungcheol's apartment.

you sit in seungcheol’s living room, heart pounding as you try to muster the courage to speak. he’s standing in front of you, arms crossed loosely over his broad chest, looking at you with his usual gentle, patient expression. but somehow, today, that patience makes your nerves worse. you’re not sure why you’re suddenly so embarrassed; maybe it’s the way his dark eyes seem to search your face for any hint of what’s coming.

“so… what did you want to ask me?” he prompts, his voice warm and inviting, though there’s a hint of curiosity lurking beneath it.

you swallow, your palms damp. “you can totally say no if you want to, there’s no pressure at all but um-”

seungcheol’s eyebrows furrow at your hesitation, “you’re making me nervous,” he jokes, though there’s a genuine note of concern in his eyes. “what’s going on?”

you inhale deeply, avoiding his gaze as you force the words out. “so, i got this wedding invite. from…my ex.” you don’t have to elaborate for seungcheol to know which ex you mean. his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, a flash of something dark passing over his expression before he smooths it out.

“han minjun,” he says, and the way he says the name makes it sound like a curse. his hands uncross, one clenching the back of a chair as he leans into it. “are you… are you okay?”

“yeah,” you say quickly, “i’m okay, really. just…it's in two weeks, and he’s marrying the girl he—” you stop yourself before the floodgate of bad memories start flowing. you look up at seungcheol, feeling your face grow warm. “anyway, that’s not the point. the point is…i need a date.”

seungcheol’s eyes soften, his tension melting away just a bit. “oh,” he says, and a smile tugs at his lips in realization, “you want me to be your date?”

“yes. i mean-” you fidget with the hem of your shirt. “only if you’re okay with it. you don’t have to-”

“of course,” he interrupts, his answer immediate, his voice firm. “if it’s for that, there’s no way i’d say no.” his protective instincts flare up at the mere thought of you facing your ex alone, and he wants to be there for you, to shield you from any pain that might resurface.

you feel relief wash over you, but then the real request lodges itself in your throat. you take a deep breath. “but… not just as a date,” you say quietly. “i need… i need a fake boyfriend. i can’t just show up to his wedding…single.”

seungcheol blinks, and for a moment, he thinks you’re joking. you watch as his expression shifts, surprise giving way to something more complicated. his smile falters, and his eyes search yours for any hint of hesitation, or a joke even. any indication that you might realize what this could mean for him.

a fake boyfriend. the words echo in his mind, and his heart aches, even as he tries to keep his face neutral. he’s spent the past 3 years hiding his feelings, protecting your friendship, waiting for a moment that never seemed to come. and now, here you are, asking him to pretend.

“a fake boyfriend,” he repeats, and his voice is steady, but there’s a hint of something broken underneath. he can’t help but imagine what it’ll be like to hold your hand, to smile at you, to pretend to be the one who gets to loves you openly…only to have it all stripped away when the charade is over. he knows he’s setting himself up for heartbreak, but how can he say no to you? how could he ever refuse you when you look at him like that?

“cheol?” you ask hesitantly, noticing his pause. “is that… is that too much to ask? i’m sorry, it’s just-”

he shakes his head quickly, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “no, it’s not too much,” he says softly. “if that’s what you need, then… i’ll do it.”

“really?” your eyes light up with hope, and he wishes he could bottle up the way you look at him, keep it forever.

“really,” he confirms, even though his heart is already starting to fracture. he pushes down the longing, the desperate yearning to be more than just a fake. because he knows this is all he’ll get—a bittersweet taste of something he can’t truly have. but for now, he’ll take what he can get. even if it means breaking his own heart for the chance to be close to you.

[—]

“rules. we need rules. oh and boundaries. just to be safe, you know? not make it weird.” you informed as you pick up a piece of blank paper & pen from your desk before jumping onto bed.

seungcheol lies on his stomach on your bed as he waits for you, “what kind of rules and boundaries do you have in mind?” he asks.

“well for one, no falling in love. like, we both have to promise that this stays strictly pretend. we can’t let it mess with our friendship.”

for a moment, silence fills the room. when you glance at seungcheol, his expression is unreadable. “no falling in love,” he repeats quietly, his voice almost too steady. you don’t notice the way his jaw tightens, the way he clenches his fist against the sheets.

you give him a nervous smile. “exactly. we both need to agree to that.”

“right,” he says, his voice softer now. “no falling in love.” he repeats louder this time, his heart aches at the irony, because if only you knew how deeply he’s already fallen. but he forces himself to nod, to play along, to act like he isn’t breaking the very first rule you laid out just by being here. “any other rules?”

“um, yeah,” you continue, scribbling your next point onto the paper. “okay,” you say, oblivious to the turmoil in his chest. “it has to be believable. like, no half-assing it. if we’re going to do this, we have to commit. but, uh, within reason, of course.”

seungcheol chuckles at that, the sound breaking through the tension. “within reason?” he echoes, his smile genuine this time.

“yeah, nothing too….much,”

“& what exactly is too much?”

“kisses,” you answer without missing a beat.

seungcheol smiles, "so, i can’t kiss you, even if it’s just for an act?"

you pause, thinking over his question. the way he says it, so casual yet so heavy, sends a shiver down your spine. “i mean… kisses are too intimate. that crosses the line.” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray how nervous the thought of kissing him makes you.

seungcheol watches you closely, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “too intimate?” he repeats, almost teasingly, but there’s something more in his eyes, something you can’t quite place. “but aren’t we supposed to look like we’re really together? won’t people think it’s suspicious if we… don’t at least pretend that we’re comfortable with that?”

“no one’s expecting a porno of us making out,” you argue, your cheeks warming at the implication. what a poor choice of words. “hand-holding, hugs, maybe a forehead or a cheek kiss if we’re feeling bold. but anything beyond that…” you trail off, your mind spinning and butterflies threatening to invade your tummy at the thought of seungcheol’s lips anywhere near yours.

he hums thoughtfully, propping his chin on his hand. “so, kisses are off the table. got it,” he says, though there’s a hint of disappointment in his voice that you dont pick up. “any other rules?”

“that's all i can think of for now, what about you? anything you dont want me to do? anything to add?” you ask.

“no, I'll do whatever you want me to.” he says, a mixture of fondness and longing swirling in his chest.

“okay, i guess we're really doing this huh?” you ask as you feel some tension leave your body.

“yeah,” he murmurs, even as his heart screams at the unfairness of it all. if only you knew just how real it already was for him.

[—]

“did you actually really ask seungcheol to be your fake boyfriend?” seungkwan questions, taking another sip from his iced americano, his eyes narrowing at you suspiciously.

you sigh, pressing your palms to your face. “how did you even find out about that?”

“seokmin told me. now answer me! did you actually?” seungkwan presses, his tone both exasperated and concerned. he’s your best friend. he knows every secret, every late-night confession, and every tear you’ve ever shed over seungcheol.

you glance away, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve. “yeah... i did,” you admit softly.

seungkwan lets out a small groan, leaning back in his seat. he’s silent for a moment, and you can feel the weight of his judgment hanging between you. but there’s something else there, too. something heavier, deeper. regret, maybe.

four years ago, you were a helpless mess, pinning after seungcheol like a lovesick fool. seungkwan remembered the way you’d light up whenever seungcheol was around, the way your laughter sounded a little brighter, your smile a little wider. and he remembered the way seungcheol seemed oblivious, never showing a sign of returning your feelings.

seungkwan had wanted to help you. he’d been desperate to see you happy, to save you from the heartache that came from unrequited love. so he’d done the only thing he could think of at the time: he’d set you up with someone else.

“do you remember when i introduced you to minjun?” seungkwan asks, his voice suddenly quieter, more somber.

you blink, caught off guard by the question. “of course i do,” you reply. how could you forget? you’d been resistant at first, clinging to the faint hope that seungcheol would notice you one day. but seungkwan had been insistent. he’d told you that minjun was a good guy, someone who could make you happy, someone who could help you move on.

“you were so against it,” seungkwan recalls, his lips curving into a wistful smile. “but you finally agreed, and... well, you actually hit it off.”

a small laugh escapes your lips, though it lacks any real humor. “yeah. we did.”

for a while, dating han minjun had felt like a breath of fresh air. he was charming, thoughtful, and everything you thought you needed. for a moment, you’d even believed you’d moved on from seungcheol. but now, years later, here you were again, tangled up in your feelings for him, pretending to date him, no less.

seungkwan’s expression softens as he looks at you. “you know, i really did think minjun was a good guy back then. i just... i didn’t want to see you hurt anymore.” his voice wavers, and you can tell he feels guilty, even if it wasn’t his fault that things turned out this way.

“i know,” you murmur. “you were just trying to help.”

seungkwan sighs, setting his juice box down. “but now you’re back to seungcheol, except this time it’s... fake. and that worries me.”

your throat tightens, and you don’t know how to explain that being with seungcheol, even if it’s just for show, feels better than being with anyone else. even if it hurts a little. or maybe a lot.

“it’s complicated,” you whisper, but seungkwan isn’t satisfied. his eyes bore into yours, filled with worry and protectiveness, like he’s already bracing for the heartbreak he’s sure is coming.

[—]

“do you think we should pick something that matches or just, you know, kind of goes together?” you ask, sifting through rows of dresses, your fingers brushing over various shades of fabric.

seungcheol tries to focus on the suits in front of him, but he’s barely listening, too distracted by the way your voice lilts at the end of your question. “hm?” he clears his throat, hoping you don’t notice how he’s completely lost his train of thought. “yeah, matching is… good.”

you raise an eyebrow at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “that didn’t answer my question, cheol.”

he laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “sorry. what was it again?”

“do you want our outfits to match?” you repeat, holding up a dress. it’s a deep, elegant navy blue, and seungcheol’s heart does a weird little flip. “like this one? it’s the same color as that suit you’re holding.”

seungcheol swallows hard, imagining the two of you side by side, perfectly coordinated, like a couple in a fairytale. he tries to shake the thought away. “yeah, that’s… perfect,” he says, his voice coming out softer than he intended.

you seem satisfied with his answer, disappearing into the dressing room to try it on. seungcheol stands there, shifting his weight from foot to foot, heart pounding for no reason he can justify. he’s known you for years, been by your side for countless moments, but something about this—the idea of the two of you dressed up together, the way you trusted his opinion—feels different, it makes his heart race.

“cheol?” your voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and he looks up, his breath catching in his throat as you step out of the dressing room.

he’s not prepared for the sight. you look… breathtaking, the dress fitting you in a way that leaves him momentarily stunned. his eyes widen, and he opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. it’s like he’s forgotten how to speak.

you tilt your head, concern flickering in your eyes. “is it bad?”

“no!” he blurts out, voice cracking embarrassingly. he clears his throat again; surprised at his own voice, his cheeks burning. “no, you look—” he stammers, searching for the right words, his mind a complete mess. but then, he smiles his boyish smile, his dimples dipping more than they usually do & says “god, you look… beautiful. really beautiful.”

you blink, taken aback, and seungcheol swears he sees your cheeks flush a little. he’s painfully aware of how warm his own face feels, how his hands are suddenly clammy.

“thank you,” you say, your voice softer now. you look at him, eyes wide and earnest, and seungcheol can’t handle it. he has to look away, but not before he sees the small smile spreading across your face.

he fiddles with the cuff of his suit jacket, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “you… you really think this is the one?” he asks, his voice cracking again. he winces.

you nod, your smile growing. “i think it’s perfect. but… what about your suit?”

he’s still trying to recover from seeing you in that dress, but he manages to nod. “right, my suit,” he says, forcing himself to focus. “i’ll go try it on.”

you sit down on a bench, and seungcheol practically sprints to the fitting room, his heart pounding. he stares at his reflection as he pulls on the navy suit jacket, trying to breathe. he looks like a mess, his hair sticking up from how many times he’s run his hands through it, his face still red.

“come on, cheol,” he mutters to himself. “get it together.”

when he finally steps out, he catches the way your eyes light up, the way you look him over and nod approvingly. “that’s perfect,” you say, and his heart does that stupid flip again. “we’ll look great together.”

he laughs, but it’s a weak attempt to hide how fast his heart is racing. “yeah. we will.” the words come out before he can stop them; even he knows he sounds completely & irrevocably smitten but he can’t help it, not when you’re looking at him like that.

[—]

“so, did you say yes to being her date?” seokmin asked casually, thumbs tapping furiously at the controller in his hands as he and seungcheol tried to hold their ground in the game. “you know, her fake boyfriend and all that?”

seungcheol’s fingers faltered on the buttons for a split second, and he shot seokmin a glare. “yah, focus on the game, we can't lose,” he grumbled, feeling his face heat up. but, of course, seokmin had to bring it up now.

“wait, what?” wonwoo’s attention snapped away from the screen, his character on the verge of getting attacked. he gawked at seungcheol. “when did this happen? and why didn’t you tell us?”

soonyoung’s eyes widened, and his character in the game momentarily stood still. “hold on, hold on,” he said, nearly dropping his controller in shock. “hyung, you’re telling us you agreed to be her date and fake boyfriend, and we’re only hearing about this now?”

“can we not talk about this?” seungcheol muttered, trying to refocus on the game, but his heart was racing. the way his stomach twisted at the mention of you and the fake dating arrangement wasn’t something he wanted to discuss—especially not with his friends teasing him about it.

“absolutely not,” soonyoung protested, his competitive spirit momentarily forgotten. “this is big news, hyung! you have to spill.”

“yeah, seungcheol,” wonwoo added, a sly grin spreading across his face. “why didn’t you tell us? don’t act like it’s not a huge deal.”

seungcheol sighed, his shoulders tensing as he kept his eyes on the screen. “because it’s not a big deal, its only for a day anyway,” he insisted, but even he could hear the strain in his voice.

“you’re so full of it,” wonwoo said, barely holding back a laugh. “you've been in love with her for god knows how long, now you agreed to be her date and pretend to be her boyfriend. how is that not a big deal?”

unfortunately, soonyoung & wonwoo, have possession over seungcheol's not so secret, secret. but really, everyone knows, it's only a secret to you, seungkwan & seokmin although seokmin has been starting to catch on for the past few months. everyone else has miraculously managed to somehow keep their mouth shut around seokmin and seungkwan for 3 years; knowing how close you are with the two of them. I guess in a way you could say the boys are loyal to him? anyways.

seungcheol’s grip on his controller tightened. “can we just focus on winning?” he pleaded, desperate to change the subject, but his friends’ curiosity was palpable.

“fine,” soonyoung said with an exaggerated sigh. “but we’re coming back to this later.”

just as seungcheol was about to let out a breath of relief, the sound of the front door opening made his heart stutter, and he turned his head, unable to help himself. you stepped into the apartment, bags in hand, looking slightly windswept but effortlessly beautiful.

“hey, i’m home!” you greeted, smiling at everyone.

seungcheol’s mind blanked, his focus slipping away entirely as he took you in. he barely registered seokmin’s frantic warning—“hyung, watch out!”—before his character was obliterated in the game.

“yes!” soonyoung cheered, throwing his hands in the air. “we won, wonwoo!”

wonwoo leaned back with a smug smile, “thank you,” he said, looking over at you.

you blinked, confused. “me? what did i do?”

wonwoo’s eyes glinted with mischief. “it’s nothing you need to know… yet,” he replied, his voice teasing, and he shot you a knowing smile. “but thank you anyway.”

you tilted your head, clearly still confused, but you shrugged it off. “okay, if you say so,” you said, heading down the hall. “i’m gonna go take a quick shower.”

seungcheol watched you disappear, his shoulders slumping as he realized just how badly he’d let himself get distracted. he could feel the heat rising to his face, embarrassment and longing twisting in his chest.

seungcheol couldn't let it show. or at least, he thought he didn’t. he tried to play it cool, act normal around you, and pretend that his heart didn’t stutter every time you called his name. but apparently, seokmin noticed.

“you’ve got that look again,” seokmin pointed out, a teasing lilt in his voice.

seungcheol turned to find seokmin leaning against the backrest of the sofa, a grin spreading across his face. he blinked, feigning ignorance. “what look?”

“you know,” seokmin drawled, pushing himself off the backrest to lean closer to seungcheol “that look you get when she’s around.”

seungcheol felt his pulse skip, an uncomfortable warmth creeping up his neck. he avoided seokmin’s eyes, choosing instead to stare at the floor. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, hoping his voice sounded steady.

“sure you don’t.” seokmin plopped down beside him, elbow nudging his ribs. “c’mon, hyung. you’re not exactly subtle.”

seungcheol rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit he couldn’t seem to shake. “it’s not like that,” he insisted, though even he knew how unconvincing he sounded.

seokmin raised an eyebrow. “really?” he asked, voice softening. “because the way you look at her…you look at her like you'd burn down the whole world for her.”

seungcheol’s throat tightened, and he pressed his lips together, finally meeting seokmin’s gaze. there was no judgment there, only curiosity and a quiet sort of understanding.

“i didn’t mean to,” seungcheol admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “it just… happened.”

seokmin’s smile was gentle now, the teasing gone. “and what are you gonna do about it?”

seungcheol’s hands fisted the fabric of his shirt, a sense of helplessness washing over him. “nothing,” he said, bitterness seeping into the word. “she’s too important. if i mess this up… i can’t lose her.”

seokmin studied him for a moment, the silence stretching between them. “but what if you don’t lose her?” he said quietly. “what if she feels the same way?”

seungcheol’s heart twisted painfully. the thought had crossed his mind more times than he could count, but he always pushed it away, too afraid to hope. “and what if she doesn’t?” he countered, his voice breaking. “i’d rather be close to her like this than lose everything.”

seokmin sighed, leaning back on his hands. “i get it,” he murmured. “but you can’t live your whole life being afraid. sometimes, you’ve got to take the risk.”

seungcheol let out a humorless laugh. “easy for you to say,” he mumbled, but his chest felt a little lighter, the weight of his secret shared, even if just for a moment.

seokmin’s smile returned, playful once more. “hey, i’m rooting for you,” he said, clapping a hand on seungcheol’s shoulder. “but seriously, the way you look at her… it’s gonna give you away one day.”

seungcheol swallowed, a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “maybe,” he whispered. “but not today.”

seokmin grinned, standing up and offering a hand to pull seungcheol to his feet. “well, just know i’ll be there to say ‘i told you so’ when it happens.”

seungcheol took his hand, rising to his feet. “yeah, yeah,” he said, but his heart felt a little less heavy & a lot more hopeful.

[—]

seungcheol stood outside your bedroom door with seokmin, heart pounding as he took a steadying breath. it wasn’t the first time he was picking you up, but today felt different. maybe it was the gravity of the wedding you were attending, or maybe it was the fact that this arrangement had slowly become more real for him than he ever dared admit.

“hyung, you okay?” seokmin asked, glancing at him curiously.

seungcheol blinked, snapping out of his reverie. “yeah,” he lied, his voice sounding far more confident than he felt. “let’s just…get this over with.” he lied, it hasn't even started yet but he doesnt want it to end.

seokmin gave him a sorry look but said nothing, and before seungcheol could dwell on it, you opened the door to your room. his breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he forgot how to speak. you stood there, radiant in a simple yet elegant dress, hair styled perfectly, eyes sparkling with nervous anticipation.

he was so down bad for you, it was almost pathetic.

he couldn't help the boyish smile that adorned his face, “you look… beautiful.” he didn’t trust himself to say more, afraid that if he did, the truth would come spilling out.

a faint blush dusted your cheeks, and you smiled, the kind of smile that made his heart feel like it was doing somersaults. “thanks, cheol,” you said shyly, adjusting your dress. “you clean up pretty well yourself.

he let out a laugh, hoping it masked the way his pulse was racing. “you ready?” he asked, extending his hand to you. “our grand entrance awaits.”

you hesitated for the briefest moment, but then you slipped your hand into his, and he had to fight the urge to hold on tighter, to pull you closer and never let go. he couldn’t, of course. this was all an act. just a performance to keep up appearances, to help you save face in front of your ex and everyone else.

but god, how he wished it were real.

[—]

the car ride was quiet at first, the only sound being the hum of the engine and the soft music playing from the radio. seungcheol couldn’t help but glance at you every few seconds, noting the way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your dress. he knew you well enough to recognize the signs of your anxiety, and his chest tightened.

“hey,” he said gently, reaching over to take your hand in his. your eyes widened in surprise, but you dont pull away. instead, you stared at your intertwined fingers, and he wondered if you could feel his heart pounding.

“are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, more careful. “if you’re not, we can turn around. we don’t have to go.”

you shook your head, a small, determined smile forming on your lips. “i’m fine,” you whispered. “it’s just… weird, you know? seeing him get married.”

seungcheol swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. he hated that minjun hurt you and how he couldn’t do anything but hold your hand and hope it was enough.

“if you want to leave at any point,” he said, squeezing your hand gently, “just say the word. i’ll get you out of there, no questions asked.”

you looked at him then, really looked at him, and he felt like he was being laid bare under your gaze, your eyes boring into his. “thank you, cheol,” you murmured, and your voice cracked just a little. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

his chest ached, a mix of longing and fear swirling inside him. he wanted to tell you that he’d always be there, that he’d never leave, but he didn’t. instead, he settled for rubbing soft circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, hoping you couldn’t feel how badly he was trembling.

the silence in the car was comfortable, but electric, charged with something unspoken. the way your shoulders relaxed under his touch, the way your breathing evened out as he held your hand—it was almost enough to make him believe that you felt the same way.

but that was dangerous territory, and seungcheol knew better than to get his hopes up.

“you know,” he said lightly, trying to steer his thoughts away from the ache in his chest, “you’re kind of incredible. not everyone could handle a situation like this with so much grace.”

you laughed, the sound soft and a little self-deprecating. “i don’t know about that or this grace you speak of,” you said. “i’m still trying to convince myself not to run away.”

“if you run,” he said, a teasing grin tugging at his lips, “i’ll run with you. we can both escape and go somewhere far away. just the two of us.”

the joke made you laugh, but there was a wistful note to it, and seungcheol had to look away to keep himself from saying something stupid. his heart was a mess, pounding wildly with every word, every touch, every second he spent in your presence.

“thanks, cheol,” you said again, your voice quieter now. “really. i’m so lucky to have you.”

seungcheol drove on, your hand still in his, hoping that this moment would last a little longer.

[—]

the wedding had gone off without a hitch, at least on the surface. the vows had been exchanged, laughter and applause filling the air, and now the reception was in full swing. seungcheol had been trying his best to stay close to you, to keep you from feeling the weight of the memories this day might bring. but as he returned with your drinks, he froze.

there you were, standing stiffly, looking more tense than he’d seen you all night. and, of course, minjun was in front of you, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes as he leaned in, saying something seungcheol couldn’t quite hear. your polite smile was brittle, your shoulders tense, and anger flared in his chest.

he forced himself to take a calming breath before approaching, setting your drinks down on a nearby table and stepping in between you & minjun, “hey,” he said smoothly, his voice calm but firm. “everything okay here?”

your eyes darted to him, a flicker of relief crossing your face. you tried to smile, but it wavered. “yeah,” you said, your voice a little too tight. “we were just… talking.”

minjun glanced at seungcheol, an eyebrow arching. “seungcheol?” he asked, a smug smile playing on his lips. “fancy seeing you here, i dont remember including you in the invite?” he quirked an eyebrow.

you opened your mouth, your voice coming out steadier this time. “actually, he's my plus one, since we're dating.”

“dating? as in, he's your boyfriend?” minjun asked as he sneaked a glance at seungcheol.

“yes, actually.” your words sent your stomach doing flips.

the disbelief on minjun’s face was palpable. he snorted, his gaze flicking between the two of you as if you’d just told a joke. “boyfriend? really?” he smirked, clearly unconvinced. “come on. that’s a little desperate, don’t you think?” minjun tries to reach for your hand.

before you could react, seungcheol stepped forward, his hand moving to reach for yours protectively; staking his claim. “i don’t think your wife,” he said, emphasizing the word with a hint of sarcasm, “would appreciate you making my girlfriend uncomfortable.”

minjun’s smile faltered, but he didn’t back down. “prove it,” he challenged, crossing his arms. “you really expect me to believe this… whatever this is?”

seungcheol’s jaw clenched. “we don’t need to prove anything to you,” he said, his voice low and controlled. “& you certainly don't have the right to ask for anything, much less a proof, not after all the shit you’ve done.”

minjun’s expression soured, but before he could respond, seungcheol turned to you, his eyes softening. “come on, pretty,” he murmured, his voice gentle and eyes earnest,. “dance with me?”

you stomach did somersaults, seungcheol watches you intently, he watches the way your expression melts into a grateful smile. you leaned in close and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “thank you,” you whispered, so quietly he barely heard it.

his heart stuttered in his chest, warmth flooding through him. but he forced himself to push the feeling away, to remind himself that this was all for show. you were only doing this because minjun was watching, because you needed to keep up the pretense. there was no way you actually meant that kiss, no way you felt the same fluttering in your chest that he did.

but he couldn’t help the way his heart betrayed him, the way his entire body seemed to light up at the simple touch of your lips on his skin. he swallowed, hoping you didn’t notice the way his cheeks flushed, and offered you his hand.

“let’s go,” you said, taking his hand, your smile genuine and warm.

the music had shifted to a slow song, and seungcheol led you onto the dance floor, his fingers still intertwined with yours. his heart was pounding, his mind racing, but he tried to focus on you, on the way you were looking at him now, your eyes so full of trust and something he couldn’t quite place.

“thank you,” you said again, your voice a little steadier this time.

he gave you a small smile, trying to keep his emotions in check. “i’ll always be here for you,” he said, his voice soft. “you know that, right?”

you nodded, your gaze flickering down to where his hand rested on your waist. “i do,” you whispered, and for a moment, he thought he saw something more in your eyes. something he desperately wanted to believe in.

seungcheol tried to ignore the way your body fit so perfectly against his, the way your smile sent his heart racing. he couldn’t let himself read too much into the way you were looking at him.

but it was so, so hard.

“cheol,” you said suddenly, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “can i ask you something?”

he swallowed, his throat dry. “of course.”

“why did you say yes?” you asked, your voice hesitant. “to being my date and… pretending to be my boyfriend?”

his breath caught in his throat. he hadn’t expected that question, and he wasn’t sure how to answer without giving himself away. “because you needed me to,” he said finally, and it was the truth, even if it wasn’t the whole truth. “and i’d do anything for you.”

your eyes softened, and he wondered if you could see right through him, if you knew just how badly he was hurting, just how desperately he wanted this to be real.

“you’re too good to me,” you whispered.

he shook his head, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “no,” he said. “i’m just… selfish.”

you tilted your head, confused. “selfish?”

he opened his mouth, then closed it, the words dying on his tongue. he couldn’t tell you. he couldn’t ruin this. “never mind,” he said, forcing a laugh. “just… ignore me.”

but you didn’t. your gaze lingered on him, searching, and he had to look away before he did something stupid, like confess right then and there.

“cheol,” you said, your voice so soft it made his heart ache. “what are you hiding?”

“nothing,” he lied, pulling you a little closer, trying to focus on the music instead of the way your eyes were looking right into his soul. “i’m not hiding anything.”

but he was. he was hiding everything. the way he loved you, the way he wanted you, the way he’d give anything to be more than…this.

“okay,” you said finally, but he could hear the doubt in your voice. “if you say so.”

“you know,” he said as he let out a small sigh, his voice barely above a whisper, “you didn’t have to kiss my cheek just now. not for minjun’s sake, anyway.”

you tilted your head, looking up at him with wide eyes. “i didn’t do it for him,” you said quietly as seungcheol watches your eyes sparkle and dilate, for a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

“then… why?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

your gaze searching his face. “just because.. i wanted to.”

seungcheol’s mind went blank, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure you could hear it. he didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to process the sudden, overwhelming rush of hope that filled his chest. 

“should we call it a night?” you asked, your voice gentle as you turned to seungcheol, who still seemed lost in thought. you weren’t sure if it was because of the way you had kissed his cheek earlier or if he was still worried about you, but his expression had been hard to read.

seungcheol blinked, snapping out of whatever daze he had been in. “yeah,” he said, nodding slowly. “let’s head home. but, uh, let me hit the bathroom real quick first?”

you nodded, offering him a small smile. “i’ll wait by the entrance.”

he nodded back, his eyes lingering on you a moment longer before he turned and made his way to the restroom. as he walked, he felt his heart racing, the memory of your soft kiss on his cheek replaying in his mind. you’d said it was just because you wanted to, but that couldn’t mean anything... right?

 seungcheol washed his hands, letting the cool water calm him down. he took a deep breath, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. he doesn't really want this night to end, he's not ready for that yet.

but that’s when he heard it: voices coming from one of the stalls, low but loud enough to catch his attention.

“man, i still can’t believe you're actually married,” one voice said, a hint of mockery in his tone. “and only because you got her pregnant. how the hell did you screw up that bad?”

what the hell? seungcheol’s jaw clenched, but he forced himself to stay quiet, listening.

“don’t remind me,” minjun’s familiar voice replied. “i know, okay? it’s not like i love her or anything. but i couldn’t just bail, you know? had to do the right thing, i guess.”

the right thing? seungcheol thinks to himself, yet cheating on you is okay?

the friend laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “still, hanna’s nothing compared to your ex. that girl is so much hotter than your wife. you should’ve stayed with her.”

seungcheol’s grip on the sink tightened, his knuckles going white.

“hey, i made a mistake,” minjun grumbled, clearly defensive. “she really is hot. i was just thinking with my other head back then, okay?”

“yeah, well,” his friend drawled, “i would’ve made a move on her tonight if she hadn’t walked in with that new boyfriend of hers. what’s his name again? seungcheol or something?”

“yeah, well, i tried to,” minjun admitted, and seungcheol could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “but he showed up before i could.”

“did you see the dress she was wearing?” minjun laughed as he added, “she's got such a killer body…bet I could make her cheat on that boyfriend of hers, what do you say? 50 bucks? bet on it?”

that was it. the final straw. anger flared hot and fierce in seungcheol’s chest, and before he knew it, he was storming over to the stall. he yanked the door open, and the look of shock on both men’s faces did nothing to quell his rage.

“what the fuck did you say? you think you can talk about her like that?” seungcheol growled, his voice low and dangerous. “after everything you’ve done?”

minjun barely had time to react before seungcheol’s fist connected with his jaw. the fight was quick, brutal, and messy, with fists flying and the sound of grunts echoing off the bathroom walls. seungcheol didn’t care about the pain in his knuckles or the way his cheek throbbed from a poorly blocked punch. all he cared about was defending your honor, protecting you from these men who had no right to even think about you, let alone look in your direction.

when seungcheol finally left the bathroom, his heart was still racing, adrenaline coursing through his veins. his cheeks were slightly bloodied and his knuckles were bruised.

but before he could reach the entrance to get to you, someone grabbed his arm. he turned, only to see hanna, minjun’s wife, looking at him with wide, concerned eyes. “oh my god,” she gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “what happened to you?”

at first, she seemed genuinely worried, but then her eyes raked over him, and her concern twisted into something more flirtatious. she reached out, her hands brushing against his arms. “you look so hot like this with all the bruises,” she whispered, her fingers trailing down his biceps.

seungcheol stiffened, every nerve in his body screaming for him to pull away. “don't,” he held a hand up, “i have a girlfriend,” he said firmly, stepping back. he glanced around, hoping you hadn’t seen any of this.

but you had. your eyes had caught sight of the scene, the way hanna's hands lingered on seungcheol’s arms, and your stomach twisted painfully. you didn’t understand why it hurt so much to see it, why your heart felt heavy and your chest ached. this was seungcheol, your good friend. you’d moved on from this heartbreak years ago... right?

you tore your gaze away, your mind spinning. you couldn’t deny the pang of jealousy, the way your pulse quickened at the sight of him with someone else, but it made no sense. seungcheol was just your friend. nothing more.

when seungcheol finally made his way over to you, unaware that you saw him & hanna, was careful not to mention it or the fight that happened. instead, he focused on the gossip he’d overheard in the bathroom. “hey,” he said, his voice gentle, “did you know?”

you barely registered his words, your mind still replaying the image of hanna's hands on his arms. your chest felt tight, and you couldn’t explain why.

“apparently,” seungcheol continued, “this whole wedding is a shotgun marriage. she’s pregnant, and that’s why they’re doing all this.” he paused, searching your face for any reaction, but you weren’t really hearing him.

“huh?” you finally said, blinking as you came back to the present. your eyes widened when you took in his bruised knuckles and the cut on his cheek. “oh my god, seungcheol. what happened to you?”

“did you hear anything of what i just said?” he asked, a mixture of frustration and worry in his voice.

you glared at him, your concern overshadowing everything else. “no, but i’m sure it’s nowhere near as important as this,” you snapped, gesturing to his bruised face and bloodied hands.

seungcheol sighed, his shoulders slumping. “it’s nothing,” he insisted, but he knew you wouldn’t let it go. not when you looked at him with so much worry, so much care, and it made his heart ache.

“nothing?” the depth of your furrowed brows going deeper, “you're bleeding, cheol.” your tone angry.  “come on,” you said, your voice softening. “i’m taking you back to my place. i need to take care of those wounds.”

he tried to protest, but you wouldn’t hear it. “please, cheol,” you whispered, and the way you said his name made his heart stutter. he wanted so badly to believe that you cared, that this wasn’t just about him being your friend.

“fine,” he relented, his voice barely above a whisper. “but only because you’re so stubborn.”

you gave him a small, relieved smile, and he felt his resolve weaken even more.

back at your apartment, you lead seungcheol to the bathroom, rummaging through the first aid kit with a determined focus. he sits on the edge of the bathtub, watching you with a mixture of awe and longing. it’s overwhelming how gentle you are with him, the way your fingers tremble slightly as you gather supplies to tend to his wounds. he wants to believe this moment means something more than simple concern for a friend, that the tenderness in your gaze holds feelings he’s been longing to hear you speak out loud.

“does it hurt?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as you dab a damp cloth against the cut on his cheek, your touch feather-light.

“no,” he says, his gaze never wavering from your face. the sting is nothing compared to the ache of wanting you. his heart pounds relentlessly, each beat echoing the longing he’s kept hidden for so long.

you move to bandage his knuckles, your fingers lingering on his for just a moment longer than necessary. “you’re so reckless,” you murmur, but your tone is soft, carrying nothing but worry.

he swallows, throat tight. “i couldn’t stand hearing them talk about you like that,” he admits, the words escaping before he can second-guess them.

your hands freeze. you look up at him, brows furrowing in confusion. “what do you mean?”

he hesitates, regret mingling with vulnerability, wanting to tell you everything but afraid of what might come next. “just... they were saying things they shouldn’t,” he settles on, the explanation falling flat compared to the storm raging inside him. “i couldn’t let it go.”

the bathroom feels smaller, the air thicker. you lean in closer, a wrinkle of worry creasing your forehead. “seungcheol…”

his hand lifts before he can stop it, and his fingers brush your cheek, gentle and unsure. “i just want to keep you safe,” he whispers, voice cracking, heart lodged in his throat. “even if it means getting a little bruised up.”

you’re so close now that your breath mingles with his, warm and intoxicating. your chest tightens, and something inside you shifts. you can’t tell if it’s the tenderness in his voice or the way his eyes seem to hold a secret you’ve always yearned to know. you feel your pulse spike, your mind racing. all the feelings you’ve tried so hard to bury come rushing back with an intensity that scares you.

you kneel in front of him, biting back the realization that you never really moved on, that you never truly stopped loving him. your feelings have been buried, but they resurface now, raw and undeniable, and you can’t pretend anymore.

“tonight was...a lot,” seungcheol says quietly, breaking the heavy silence. his eyes search yours, trying to make sense of the tension thick in the room.

you nod, hands trembling slightly as you pull back, though not far enough to break the spell. “yeah,” you manage, voice unsteady. “it was.”

seungcheol watches you with a gaze so full of longing that it makes your heart ache. he’s proud of you, he’s always been proud of you, but the way he’s looking at you now is different. “you were amazing,” he says, the sincerity in his voice making your breath catch. “the way you handled everything… i’m so proud of you.”

his words break something inside of you, and before you know it, you’re leaning in, closing the distance. it’s an impulse, a mistake, but you just couldn't help yourself. your lips brush against his, and for a heartbeat, time stands still.

seungcheol freezes in shock, but then he responds. his hands fly to your waist, pulling you closer, and he kisses you back with a fervor that leaves you breathless. the tension snaps like a taut wire, replaced by a burst of passion, and everything you’ve both kept buried pours out.

his fingers tighten around your waist, your hands finding their way into his hair, and you lose yourself in him. the way he tastes, the way he holds you, feels like a dream you don’t want to wake from. your heart races as the kiss deepens, desperate and all-consuming.

but then reality crashes over you like a tidal wave. you pull back abruptly, breaking away, your eyes wide with shock and horror. seungcheol looks dazed, lips parted, hair slightly mussed from your hands, and the sight of him so undone because of you only makes the guilt worse.

“i-” you stammer, voice cracking as you scramble to your feet. “oh my god. i’m so sorry.”

“wait-” he begins, but you’re already moving, stumbling backward, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. “i shouldn’t have… we promised we wouldn’t-”

“it’s okay,” he tries to reassure you, his voice gentle yet laced with desperation. he stands, reaching for you, but you take another step back, your emotions spiraling.

“no,” you whisper, shaking your head, overwhelmed and terrified by the feelings that won’t stop crashing over you. “i ruined everything.”

you feel tears prick your eyes, your chest aching with regret and confusion. the kiss shattered the fragile balance between you, and you don’t know how to piece it back together. “you should go,” you manage, voice cracking. “its getting late,” your head starts feeling dizzy, “I'll call you tomorrow.” 

before seungcheol can argue, before he can make sense of the whirlwind between you, you’re gone. you rush out of the bathroom, heart hammering, not sure where to go but needing to escape. the apartment feels suffocating, your feelings too much to handle, and you slam your bedroom door behind you.

you lean against it, sliding down until you’re curled up on the floor, tears spilling down your cheeks. what have you done? you kissed seungcheol, and now everything is a mess. the love you never let yourself acknowledge burns bright, and it terrifies you.

in the bathroom, seungcheol stands frozen, the ghost of your kiss still lingering on his lips. he’s never felt more hopeless, more in love, and more afraid that he’s lost you forever. the echo of your apology rings in his ears, and he clenches his fists, wishing he could take away the hurt and confusion you’re feeling.

he tells himself he’ll wait for you to call, but he’s terrified that this time, waiting might not be enough.

but still, seungcheol waits. 

the days stretched on, each one feeling heavier than the last. it had been a week since the wedding, a week since that kiss had turned his world upside down, and still, there was no call from you. you had promised, but the days passed in silence. he wanted so bad to be the one reaching out, but he knows you well enough to know that it wouldnt end well, and that you needed your own time to process things. but he couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened between you. each morning he woke up with a sliver of hope, a quiet, desperate wish that today would be the day you would reach out. but by every nightfall, the silence was all he had. the silence, and the ache that gnawed at him constantly.

he kept replaying that moment over and over in his mind, the feel of your lips on his, the way your eyes had searched his face afterward. the hope, the confusion, the raw vulnerability—it haunted him, leaving him restless and on edge. there was something about the way you pulled away from him, your apology spilling out in a rush, that made his heart ache. his own feelings were a mess, tangled up in things he hadn’t fully understood until that kiss, much less you, right?

he tried to keep busy, to drown the thoughts that plagued him. the gym became his sanctuary, his second home, a place to work out the frustration, the ache in his chest. he lifted weights until his body screamed for rest, hoping that physical exhaustion would bring some peace. but no matter how much he tried to tire himself out, the ache remained, lurking at the edges of his mind, waiting for the quiet moments when it all came rushing back.

work was just a blur, the hours blending together as he went through the motions. he found himself distracted, staring at his phone more often than usual, his thumb hovering over your contact, only to put it down before he could hit send. what would he even say? what if you weren't ready yet & him reaching out only made things worse? what if you didn’t even want to hear from him? what if his feelings were just a one-sided mess that he’d have to live with forever?

the days bled into one another, each one more unbearable than the last. he couldn’t tell anyone how much he missed you—how much he longed to hear your voice, to see you again, to figure out what all of this meant. so he kept it all inside, bottled up, carrying the weight of his emotions on his own. there were moments when he could feel it, the weight of his longing pressing on his chest, making it hard to breathe. he had tried to be patient, to give you space, but with each passing day, that patience was wearing thin.

he wondered if he’d done something wrong. had he misread the situation? had he pushed too far when he kissed you back? maybe you only kissed him because of the atmosphere or adrenaline or whatever? every time he thought about it, he felt sick. maybe you didn’t feel the same way. maybe he had crossed a line, and now he was paying the price for it. the thought of you slipping further away from him was unbearable.

his phone sat on the coffee table, screen blank, mocking him with its silence. he had told himself he’d wait, that you’d reach out when you were ready, but the longer the silence stretched on, the harder it became to believe that. he wanted to hear your voice, to know that you weren’t angry with him, to know that the kiss hadn’t ruined everything between you. but instead, he sat in his apartment, surrounded by the deafening quiet.

& seungkwan? seungkwan had been on you about it for days.

"seriously, you’re just going to leave things like this?" seungkwan had said one morning, his eyes narrowing at you over his cup of coffee. "you kissed him. you kissed seungcheol hyung. and now you’re acting like it didn’t happen. you think he’s not waiting for you to come around?"

you hadn’t responded at first, unsure of how to even begin to process it. all you could think about was the kiss, and how everything felt so wrong and so right in that moment, and how now, in the aftermath, everything was a mess.

"you’ve been so quiet about this. and it’s obvious to everyone. you’re both miserable. don’t you get it?" seungkwan continued, his voice growing more insistent. "you can’t just let it go, not after that. you owe it to yourself & especially to him to figure out what this is. what he is to you."

you had shaken your head, turning away, not wanting to face the truth. "i don’t even know what it is. i don’t know if i—"

"you’re making it worse by not doing anything," he cut you off, his eyes narrowing. "stop running from it. just talk to him, okay? if you don’t, you’re going to regret it."

you sighed heavily, sinking back into the couch. you had never been good at this kind of thing, especially when it came to feelings. but something in seungkwan’s words made you pause. the last thing you wanted was to regret anything.

"i don’t know if i can," you murmured. "i don’t know if he’ll even want to talk to me after everything."

seungkwan rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "stop thinking like that. he doesn’t know what to do either, so you’re both stuck, waiting for the other to make a move. just go to him. get your act together."

before you could respond, the door to your apartment unlocks, interrupting your conversation, and there stood seokmin, looking far too cheerful for the somber mood that had settled over you.

"hey, what’s going on in here?" he asked, stepping inside with his usual bright smile.

you shrugged, feeling the weight of seungkwan’s words pressing on your chest. "nothing much. just… thinking."

seungkwan immediately jumped in, as if he couldn’t help himself. "you need to go talk to seungcheol. i’m so done waiting for this mess to sort itself out."

seokmin raised an eyebrow, a knowing look on his face. "ah," he crossed his arms, settling into the couch. "you’re still haven't called huh?"

"no," you admitted, your voice small. "i don’t know what to say to him."

"yeah, well, you’re not the only one," seokmin said with a sigh, his tone softening. "but running away from it won’t solve anything. look, and you know what cheol's like. if you tell him you need space & time & that you'll call him, he's gonna listen & wait for you. he’s not going to make the first move until you do so go talk to him, okay? figure it out. or at least to put that guy out of his misery."

you nodded slowly, trying to take in his words. it wasn’t that simple. it never was. but seokmin had a way of speaking to you that made you feel like maybe, you could take that first step.

seungkwan was still persistent, though. "seriously, i’m not letting you off the hook. you still love him after all these years, don’t you?"

"i don’t know," you said, your voice cracking. "i think i do, but i don’t even know how to deal with even coming to terms that i like him. everything’s so messed up. i kissed him, and now i… i don’t know what to do with all of it."

seokmin looked at you with an almost knowing smile. "sometimes, things don’t have to be figured out all at once. it’s okay to just… see what happens. go to him and talk. take it one step at a time."

seungkwan nodded eagerly, as if the suggestion had finally gotten through to you. "exactly. just go. trust me, you’re both miserable. just fix it."

the decision was made. somehow, someway, you had to go to him. you didn’t know what you were going to say, or how you were going to fix everything that had gone wrong, but you knew you had to try. the thought of never knowing how he felt, or whether you had a chance, was unbearable.

it had been days since you last saw him. days since everything had spiraled. and now here you were, on the verge of either fixing things or making them worse. you stood frozen, unsure of what to do. your hands trembled slightly, and for the first time in a long while, you felt completely out of control.

you knocked softly, but the sound felt too loud in the quiet hallway. a few moments later, you heard the shuffle of footsteps from the other side, and your heart skipped a beat.

the door swung open, and seungcheol stood there, looking absolutely stunned to see you standing there. his eyes widened in confusion, and for a brief second, you both just stared at each other in silence.

he seemed to take a deep breath, as if bracing himself. "you… you’re here," he said quietly, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. "are you… okay?"

you didn’t know how to respond. you wanted to say so many things, but words felt like too much. you stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to form a coherent sentence. the silence stretched, and then he spoke again, his voice breaking the tension.

"come in," he said softly, stepping aside to let you in, but you didn’t move. "did i… did i do something wrong? if i upset you, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to. i really didn’t." his voice was strained, as if he was holding back something. "i know we agreed on the whole fake dating thing for just 1 night, and maybe i crossed a line. but i didn’t mean to. i didn’t mean to make things complicated. I.. I didnt mean to make you uncomfortable.”

he sounded so genuinely sorry, and that was the moment it hit you—seungcheol was just as lost as you were.

you swallowed, forcing yourself to step over the threshold. you walked inside, every part of you feeling as though you were making a decision you couldn’t take back. the door clicked shut behind you, and you stood in the middle of the living room, unsure of what to do or say next.

he gestured toward the couch, but neither of you sat. there was a tension hanging between you two, something unsaid but felt in the air. you stayed there, frozen, trying to process your thoughts while he watched you, waiting for something.

he cleared his throat, his voice quieter now. "come sit, please," he said. "talk to me, please. is it something i did? i… i can't fix it if i dont know what i did wrong."

you shook your head slowly, still unable to find your words. you felt like a mess, and you could tell by his expression that he felt the same. the weight of everything that had happened—the kiss, the awkward distance between you two after—was hanging over you both.

finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "it’s not your fault."

"what do you mean?" he asked, his brows furrowing in confusion, a mix of hope and worry in his gaze. "what’s not my fault?"

"i kissed you," you muttered, the words coming out rushed, almost in a panic. "it was me. i shouldn’t have done it. and i’m sorry."

he seemed taken aback, a flash of guilt crossing his face. "but… why? why did you kiss me?” 

you bit your lip, looking down at the floor, avoiding his eyes for a moment. "i don’t know why," you admitted, the confession escaping before you could stop it. "i wasn't thinking…i just… i was jealous. i saw hanna with you, and i couldn’t stand it. i… i kissed you because of that, but now, i’m not sure if it was jealousy or because i like you."

seungcheol’s face softened, his eyes searching yours as if trying to make sense of it. "you were jealous?" his voice was barely audible, as if the question itself was too much to bear. his eyes were glossy, and his hands trembled slightly at his sides. he took a step closer, his voice breaking as he spoke. "you… you like me?"

you took in a deep breath, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "i think so, i don’t know..I'm not sure but i don’t want to lose you over a stupid kiss."

seungcheol exhaled shakily as his heart falters to the pit of his stomach. he felt a mixture of anger, bitterness and heartbreak flare in his chest, his fingers threading through his hair as he took a moment to gather himself. "a stupid kiss," he repeated, “you dont know if you like me?” and there was a bitterness to his voice that made your chest tighten. he looked at you, his eyes shining with something raw, something that made your heart splinter.

"it's not just a stupid kiss to me," he whispered, and your breath caught. "do you know how long i’ve been in love with you? do you have any idea how many times i’ve tried to hold back these feelings because i was terrified you wouldn’t feel the same?"

your eyes widened, your knees nearly giving out at his words. "you… you're in love with me?" you whispered, barely able to believe it.

he let out a bitter laugh, the sound cracking in the air between you. "yeah," he said, his voice breaking on the word. "i’m in love with you. it’s been hell, watching you, waiting for the right moment, praying that maybe, one day, you'd feel the same. and then you kissed me, and god, for a second, i thought it was real. i thought maybe you felt it too."

your hands shook as you tried to process his confession, the weight of his words pressing down on you, leaving you breathless. "cheol…" you started, but he held up a hand, his gaze turning away from you.

"don't," he whispered, pain etched in every line of his face. "if you're not sure, if you don't know what you want, please… don't say anything. because this? this hurts too much."

your chest ached, your heart breaking at the sight of him, of the way he was barely holding himself together. "i’m sorry," you choked out, tears finally spilling down your cheeks. "i didn’t know. i never realized—"

"that’s the thing," he interrupted, his voice strained. "i've always been here, and you never realized." he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he tried to hold back his own tears. "i can’t… i can’t keep doing this if you don't feel the same,”

seungcheol softens as he took in a deep breath, “I can accept, no–I can understand if you don’t love me back,” he says, his voice breaking, “but i need you to at least be sure you like me. if you can’t even be sure you like me, then i don’t think i can do this.” his hands curl into fists on his knees, the weight of his words pressing into the air between you.

the tears come without warning, spilling down your cheeks as everything you’ve been holding back crashes over you. “cheol,” you begin to confess, voice trembling, “i was in love with you four years ago. back then, before everything. before my ex.” your confession hangs heavy, and you can see the shock and pain in his eyes.

“four years ago?” he chokes out. he’s crying too, his tears slipping silently down his face. “why didn’t you tell me?”

you wipe at your face, trying to catch your breath. “because i thought it was over. i thought my feelings had become platonic, that they’d evolved into this safe, distant affection. but seeing you... seeing hanna flirt with you... it hurt. it hurt because i realized i never really let you go. i still love you, cheol. and it’s not just this soft, easy love. it’s the kind that makes me want you even when it hurts.”

his sob catches in his throat, and he reaches for you, his hands trembling. “i’ve loved you for so long,” he confesses, his voice cracking under the weight of it all. “i tried to hide it. i tried to hold it back, but i couldn’t. you’ve always been the one, even when i knew i shouldn’t feel that way.”

the two of you sit there, crying together, the years of longing, misunderstandings, and suppressed emotions finally crashing down. he cups your face, thumb brushing away your tears. “so now what?” you ask, voice small and broken.

seungcheol pulls back slightly, looking at you with a playful glint in his eyes, but there's something vulnerable there too. he smiles as he rubs soothing circles on your cheek with his thumb. "now... now i ask you out on a date," he says, his voice softer, but his tone filled with so much emotion. “but—” he pauses, his smile fading slowly as his gaze turns serious now, “i’ll give you…five dates.”

“what? what do you mean?” your eyebrows scrunch in confusion.

seungcheol's smile returns as he takes in your pouty face before clearing his throat, “i'll let you decide if you still want me after that. no pressure. in case you change your mind.” his hand goes to reach for a stray hair near your cheek and tucks it behind your ear as he gives you a soft smile, still holding a certain sadness and uncertainty to it.

you smile softly, shaking your head. “i don’t need five dates to know my answer, cheol. i'm not changing my mind.” bold adrenaline suddenly pumps through your blood, and you hastily pull seungcheol closer to you in a quick motion, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, and then you place a quick kiss on his lips. it's nothing romantic by any means, neither was it movie-scene-worthy. it's nothing like that, but it is more than enough to soothe your soaring heart, and it's definitely more than enough to send your message across to seungcheol.

seungcheol’s eyes widen in surprise as you pull away. "you’re…sure.” this time, it wasn't a question.

"i'm sure," you repeat anyway for him, stepping into his arms as your heart flutters at the feeling of him finally pulling you in, his embrace as warm as you'd imagined.

his arms wrapping around you with a warmth and desperation that sends a shiver down your spine. It feels like everything you've both been holding back for so long is coming unraveled, like this embrace is the start of something fragile but real. His face buries into the crook of your neck, and you feel his breath, heavy and uneven, as he holds on like he's afraid to let go.

"i've waited so long to hear you say that," he murmurs, voice muffled against your skin. His words are shaky, the tremble betraying the vulnerability he’s still trying to hide. "i’ve wanted this for so long, but i never imagined it would feel this terrifying."

your hand finds his back, holding him just as tightly. "it’s terrifying for me too," you admit softly, your voice trembling. "but... i’m tired of being afraid.”

he pulls back slightly, his forehead pressing against yours as his eyes search your face. “let’s give this a real chance, even if it scares us. even if it’s hard." he whispers, a hint of a smile breaking through the sorrow that had clouded his expression. 

you nod, your eyes locked with his. "i want to," you say, feeling a fragile hope bloom in your chest. "i want us."

a soft, relieved laugh escapes his lips, and he pulls you into a real kiss this time—gentle, slow, and full of everything unspoken. It’s not perfect, but it feels like a promise, like a beginning you both desperately needed. you lose yourself in the moment, your heart pounding as the weight of everything finally starts to lift.

when you both pull away, breathless but smiling, seungcheol rests his forehead against yours. "so, about those five dates, even though you say you dont need them," he teases, his voice a little lighter now, a spark of his usual playful demeanor coming back. "should we count this one, or start fresh?"

you laugh, the sound bringing color back into the space between you. "maybe we should count this one," you say, your heart feeling impossibly full. "but only if it means you have to try extra hard to make the next four unforgettable."

his smile widens, the warmth in his eyes chasing away the lingering shadows of doubt. "deal," he says, his hands still resting on your waist. "i’ll make every single one worth remembering, just you wait."

[lionheartedmusings]

hi everyone! i talked about my new "dream job" very briefly a few times, but turns out you really shouldn't count your chickens before they hatch. i debated not saying anything multiple times, and frankly perhaps i should've kept quiet, but i refuse to let this situation eat me up and i feel like the community also deserves some transparency on some things that realistically, you'll never get unless people speak up. i want to preface this by stating very, very clearly that everyone that i met in the studio on a personal level is incredibly talented, passionate, and kind. all of them deserve much, much better than the way they get treated. i applied to be a writer for quackity studios / qsmp and got an email back on the 18th of january. i interviewed for the position on the 23rd of january, and entered trial period on the 28th after signing an "nda".

early during trial period, i asked one of my supervisors about payment and was told they weren't responsible for that and didn't know, but would get back to me as soon as they knew which never ended up happening (i do not blame them at all, they’re incredibly busy people). i should've pressed further, but as someone in a very, very sensitive financial situation and someone who loves the qsmp and admires the talent of everyone who poured their heart and soul into the project, i chose to wait and expect the best. i was officially welcomed into the studio on the 10th of february, and while i waited to be contacted regarding a contract or payment, i had to once again ask (even after i was already working) about payment. i was redirected to "the" head admin as it was him who handled payment, and had to wait days for him to log on so i could add him as a discord friend and ask about my salary. during that conversation, which took almost a week from start to finish, i was asked multiple times if i'd worked professionally as a writer or freelancer (to which the answer was no) before finally being offered between 200-250 dollars (which i later found out shakes out to 170€) per month. i had to ask how i was being paid, and of my own accord provide him with my paypal email in hopes of a response as he never made it clear to whom i should send it. i was incredibly lucky compared to so many members of that team, because i did get paid for my work over that month, even if it felt like i had to beg for compensation that had been promised to me before. it was an awful salary, but i was desperate and so excited to be a part of the team that i accepted the conditions. after léa's tweets, the response "jay" posted, and quackity's emergency stream, i heard once from a supervisor that things were on hold but we'd be informed of any changes. to this day, there has not been any communication either publicly on the discord server or privately, even though i asked a supervisor privately for any possible updates on anything. there's been absolute radio silence. i want to add that i do not in any way blame my supervisors for any of their lack of communication, as they've been nothing but kind and caring towards me and i imagine they'd say something if they could. i have nothing but the utmost respect for them. a few days ago (and i apologize for not being precise with the date but i wasn't checking these things closely as i had no reason to) i noticed that my access to just about everything on the server apart from the announcement channel had been removed, and the only role i retained was the main "writer" one. upon checking, the other writers on the team still retain all of their previous roles. for some reason i do not know nor understand, my access got removed without any sort of word, communication, dm, anything. anything i've ever learnt about this situation, i learnt in the middle of the night live on twitch.tv while i waited to see if i still had a job or not. the only reason i can find for my access being removed and not the other writers is the fact that i'm friends with pomme's admin. i do not know if that is why, it's merely my own speculation, but it's the only link i can see that would lead to that decision. i hope i'm wrong, but hope hasn't gotten me very far in this yet. yesterday, i quit.

i only applied in the first place because i love the qsmp. i love this community, i love this project, and i genuinely and wholeheartedly wanted to help build it as well as be able to in some way support myself while being creative. i'm not making this post because i hate quackity and want to see anything burn — i'm just exhausted, and stressed, and losing sleep over a business that ultimately does not care for the people that made it a reality. i could not in good conscience not say something, because while i was very lucky that my time there was short and while i made friends there that i believe i will take with me for the rest of my life, i've never been someone who can sit and watch others be mistreated so blatantly and just ignore it. i honestly and sincerely hope that moving forward, things change, but after what i've seen i have very little hope left in me. this isn't just about the exploitation of people, or just about not providing people with payment for their work — it's about treating other human beings who are killing themselves and working themselves to the bone with the very minimum of care and respect. it's about people who made the qsmp what it is being discarded and disrespected constantly, and who live in fear and anxiety. these people deserve to be treated well, and that lack of respect hasn't changed regardless of any "announcements" made. my heart and full and complete support goes out to everyone who is dealing with these very unfortunate circumstances and treatment (my dms are always open if you ever want to reach out), to léa for being so incredibly brave and putting herself in the line of fire for the tens of people still in the studio, to all the actors and the twitter teams for the absolute silence they've received as payment for their hard work over almost a year, and to pomme's admin who despite what's going around on twitter has not received any contact from anyone in the studio yet, and deserves so so much better.

it’s my most sincere hope that qsmp thrives and conditions change, because everyone there deserves that. everyone there deserves to be treated like gold because they’re some of the best people i’ve ever met. i wish it didn’t feel like we have to put ourselves in the line of fire publicly for any sort of response because clearly staying silent hasn’t helped anything.

please, support the people who spoke out and support the people still in the project. they're the ones who made the qsmp the qsmp. they're the ones you should be standing with first and foremost.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

I feel like I owe Kim Possible a minor apology. In a recent post, I used Kim and Ron's romance as an example of how the love square should have been written. I've also talked about how Ron's the perfect example of a male comedy sidekick who is more than just a comedy sidekick because he's treated as Kim's perfect partner. I've probably mentioned Kim Possible other times, too, because it's such a good match for what Miraculous is trying to do.

Because I keep singing Kim Possible's praises I decided that I should rewatch the show to make sure that my nostalgia goggles weren't blinding me to some major flaw. So far, they weren't. If anything, I've been underselling the show. This is where we get to that apology I mentioned at the start.

Prior to this rewatch, I would have told you that Ron's importance wasn't really discussed until the later seasons because the first season of a formulaic kids show is almost always a testing grounds to see what works, so things can be a little rough. Plus Ron's importance isn't exactly something that you need to dive into early on when you've got a two person team. No one is questioning Ron's importance right out of the gate. He's there to be the comedy sidekick. No explanation needed.

Imagine my surprise when the plot of episode six is all about Kim and Ron getting into a fight about Ron excelling at their part time job while Kim kinda sucks, leading to Kim going to fight alone while Ron keeps working. Kim fails, Ron gets a call that she's in trouble, and:

Wade: Not important. Kim's in trouble. She found Drakken at inside giant Cheese Wheel but I lost contact. She needs help. Your help. Ned: Well, well, well. Looks like you've got a choice to make, Stoppable! What's more important? Your sacred duty as assistant manager or your role as goofy sidekick? Ron: Well, that's no choice at all. I guess it's time to say buenos noches, Bueno Nacho.

Dude doesn't even hesitate. Doesn't matter if they're fighting or if he's feeling underappreciated, Kim needs his help? He's there. Their fight can wait until after Kim is safe. This is why I love Ron. Total dork, but you can't ask for a better partner.

Ron's rescue attempt initially goes south, but instead of getting mad, we get this genuinely sweet moment:

Ron: Guess that wasn't much of a plan. Kim: Not as great as your Bueno Nacho bathroom-break chart. Ron: I gooned on assistant-manager power. You were right. Kim: I did resent your superior burrito technique. You're entitled to excel. Forgive me? Ron: Duh! Forgive me? Kim: Totally.

Boy do I love these two! Their friendship was so genuine right from the start. This whole episode is just oozing how much they care for each other, it's great!

After this moment, they save the day with Ron playing a big part in Kim's plan because right from season one, season one, the writers understood that Kim could never be shown to win when Ron wasn't around.

As you may have guessed from the cheese wheel line, the plot of this episode is pretty absurd even for Kim Possible. That's been the case for all of the early episodes, but I think that the plots are going to improve as the seasons go on because I remember the later seasons having much stronger plots. We'll see if that proves true. Even if the plots stay kinda weak, I've still gotta give full credit to the writers for their early character work. They really understood Kim and Ron's relationship right from the start, didn't they? And in a show like this, that's the most important element to get right.

Don't worry, I'm not going to flood your dash with Kim Possible love, I just had to take a moment to appreciate how good the character work was here. They really did want Ron to feel like more than Kim's goofy sidekick and they pulled it off while sticking to the show's absurd writing and formulaic structure. As Miraculous has shown, that isn't something that just naturally happens. It takes effort, so I had to take a moment to gush because I don't get to gush about good character work often while running this blog. I hope this also makes it clear that, when it comes to writing, I'm not looking for perfection. I'm just looking for a good time. So far, that's what this rewatch is giving me.

[neesieiumz]

𓆩☆𓆪 | 𝚂𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙵𝙵 ⸺ ⚞𝙴𝚁𝚆𝙸𝙽 𝚂𝙼𝙸𝚃𝙷 ⚟

⸻ synopsis ⫸〖 when your home gets flooded out by a bad storm, it's only right for sheriff erwin smith to help you out, right love?〗

⸻ warnings ⫸ sm*t. fluff. minors do not interact. part ii of the gold rush anthology. sheriff!erwin. bar-owner!reader. canon-age Erwin. reader is in her late twenties, or early thirties, however, you wanna see it. afab reader. female reader. black-coded reader. soft-dom!erwin. fingering. squirting. titty-sucking. full-nelson position (yes, can you tell I have a fantasy that I really wanna do?) soft-dom!erwin. he's also really stressed out in this. he also calls you "love" all the time. he also calls you a good girl during this as well. friends-to-lovers. p*rn with plot.

⸻ writers note ⫸ lol much like reiner's this took me like two months to write. y'all better pray it don't take me that long to do eren's or we're gonna have a problem!! I just hope you all enjoy this.

⸻ word count ⫸ 7.0k.

masterlist. | previous part in the anthology | next part in the anthology |

The bar was empty, the kitchen cleaned up, and all quiet as well. The air that once smelled of cheap beer and grease now began to fade into the smell of night dew and wet sand. You stood behind the bar, wiping down the few wet glasses to put away. Glancing out the door, seeing the moon and stars glowing against the midnight sky, sighing as your mind faded back to the events before. Back to the way Erwin and his men had rushed out of here. It has been chaotic for the people within this town. For the past two weeks, those bandits had been ravaging the town, escaping with no trace within the wind. You had overheard their frustrations from both the police force and Garrison boys and how they evaded their every movement. Wiping your wet hands against your dress, turning around to do a final count of the beer stocked behind you. It was a hassle, always being the last one, but you knew no one else could leave your bar the way you do. As you did so, you suddenly heard the door creak and swing open. Gasping, jumping in slight shock, grabbing the closest thing to you before a familiar voice hissed through the air. 

The very same man you were thinking about stomped right through the bar, face red, grumbling in anger. He wasn’t wearing his hat, probably left it at the office as he trampled on through. His bronze-brown vest was unbuttoned, showing off his buttoned-down shirt stained with sand and dirt stains. The smell of wet mud, rain, and sweat hit your nose but you said nothing as he made his way towards you, sitting right down at one of the bar stools. He let out a loud groan, reaching up, losing the scarf he tied around his neck. You let out a breath, not saying a word as you turned right back around, going to one of the beer barrels. Filling it with the one he drinks the most, before sliding it to him. Not missing a beat, he took the tall glass, downing most of it in one go.

“Thank ya kindly, love,” he said, slamming the glass down on the table. 

“Don’t go and break my glass, Erwin,” you joked, taking the glass and going to fill it. 

“My apologies, and no need for more, I’ll be too dizzy to head back home.”

You hummed, before lifting the glass up, sipping down the little you had already poured back into the cup. Erwin said nothing, watching as you licked your lips, shuddering slightly at the taste of the bitter wheat alcohol. 

“I don’t know how you boys can be drinking that shit all day,” a grimace took over your face. 

Erwin smirked, “it’s an acquired taste, could say the same thing about the fancy lil wine you’re always drinking.”

You rolled your eyes at that, smirking, “alright now Erwin..”

Rinsing and washing the glass, before taking the damp rag and wiping it down. Back facing towards him, you spoke once more. 

“Assuming from your attitude, you don’t have any good news about them bandits?”

Almost immediately, you could feel his mood dampen. He groaned, hearing sink further into the table. You glanced back at him, finding both of his large hands covering his face in further frustration. 

“I’m assuming that’s a no,” you said. 

He let out a softer sigh, before pushing himself up once more, looking at you as you shuffled around, still facing the back of the bar. 

“They’re tricky lil things, constantly evading my men,” he sighed, groaning as well as he sat up fully. 

“We chased 'em down to the big forest all the way out there, but we lost' em. Still don’t know how, not like there’s many places to hide up there. We even checked the big cave over there as well and all the possible trees they could hide in.”

Sighing, you placed the glass down with the rest of them before turning around and facing him fully. You leaned over the table, pressing your abdomen against the shiny wood. Using your free hand, you placed your pad on his cheeks, your longer fingers reaching his blond hair, while your thumb stroked his cheek. You could feel his smile form against your hand, smiling soon after that. 

“Kirstein’s been on my ass about finding them, they took a lot of his equipment and it was real expensive for him to buy new ones in the city. Told him to sell his wife’s jewelry and he looked at me like I got two cow heads.”

You couldn't help the chuckle that escaped your lips, thinking about Jean waving his fist over at Erwin, before speaking, “You can’t catch em all Erwin in one night, plus them robbers real sneaky too. First we’ve ever seen someone like this. It’ll be alright, m’kay?”

He nodded his head, and you soon moved your hand, lifting your body upright once again. He glanced around the bar, seemingly noticing that there was no one else there but him. He glanced over at you as you placed the wet rag on the rack hanging from the counter, before stepping out from behind it. Erwin watched you begin slowly turning off the lights hanging around the bar, dimming down all the lanterns. 

“Lemme walk you home, love. Can’t have you out here at night like this.”

You couldn't suppress your smile as you dimmed the last lantern, nothing but the low light of the moon peeking through the door surrounding, darkness swallowing you two whole. 

You sighed, walking back to the bar to grab your bag, “if by home, you mean the motel across town then yeah.”

Turning around, jumping at the sudden tall figure right in front of you. He peered down at you, eyes slightly wide. 

“What you mean by that, love? Why you staying in a place like that?” He asked you.

Letting out a shaky breath, and taking a step back. Erwin was close, so close that it had your heart suddenly palpated a bit, heat suddenly flashing through your body. 

“Um..” your mind went blank for a bit, before resetting, “that storm a few nights ago put me out, my roof and walls leaking so I grabbed what I could and ran down to the motel. Was soaking wet when I got there too.” You slightly snorted at that last part but Erwin’s face didn’t change at all.

“Now why didn’t you tell me about this? I could have helped you?”

You crossed your arms, taking a deep breath to help calm yourself just a bit, “and do what? You and the entire damn force were worried about those bandits. You know I don’t wanna be a bother, Erwin.”

His large, coarse came up to your face, pressing it against your cheek. Your heart kicked back up as he took a step closer to you, stomping over the distance you had put between the two of you. 

“Now you know you could never be a bother to me, love.”

You couldn’t help the smile, looking up into his usually icy blue eyes, hardened from years on the job, that now had a softened look to them. You couldn't help but use your free hand, reaching up and placing it on top of his own. The two of you smiled at each other, before dropping your hands at the same time. Erwin turned around, heading towards the opened door together. 

“I don’t feel comfortable with you staying in the motel, especially with these bandits running around,” he mentioned as he opened the door, holding it open for you. 

Sighing, turning around to lock up the bar, “well, what would you have me do Erwin? Everyone else I know is packed full, and I’m not going into the forest late at night. The carpenter’s are stretched thin with everyone else and won’t finish with my place until next week.”

You put your keys back in your bag, turning around to look at him. His face was lowered, eyebrows furrowed in a look of pondering as the two of you walked through the almost silent town. You could hear a commotion in the background, most likely people having their own get-togethers as well.  

“You could come stay with me. Until they repair your house of course.”

Your eyes widened, head swinging to look at him. The two of you locked eyes as your heart dropped for a quick moment. Stay… at Erwin’s place…? You shuffled a bit as you thought upon the idea, the idea of you two sharing a space for at least a week. Just for a quick moment, a flash of a much more, racy sight of him had your heart pounding a mile a minute. 

“I really don’t wanna put you out like that Erwin,” you spoke up, shuffling and looking away from him, trying your best to be still with your beating heart

Cool hands reached out to your chin, pulling your head up to look at the 6’2 man. 

“Now what did I just say, love? You could never be a burden to me, and you could never put me out.”

With no other words, his other hand reached out, sliding your bag out of his hands before swinging it over his shoulders. He began walking ahead of you, taking a few steps before looking back at you. He jerked his head, motioning for you to follow him. With no other words, softly smiling as you turned and walked towards him, the two of you walking in step as you walked through the town. Despite the sheriff's office being in the center of town, Erwin preferred to live a bit of the way in the opposite direction away from the forest. He likes being near the main entrance of the town, just in case something happens. As you were halfway there, a large gust of sudden cold wind blew past the two of you, causing you to shiver a bit. Your arms crossed each other, your hands stroking them to create some kind of heat. Erwin must have noticed your actions as all of a sudden, you heard a ‘plop’ before a weight fell upon your shoulders. Looking around, you saw the jacket Erwin was wearing draped across your shoulders. You looked up at him, noting him pointedly not looking back down at you as he continued walking. You let off a small smile, snuggling into the warm jacket, sounding off a soft “thank you” before continuing to walk behind him. 

The two of you soon got to his home, a simple two-story house given to him by the townspeople, a thank you for all that he does. You followed behind him as he fished for his keys out of his pockets, unlocking the door and pushing it open as he did so. He gestured for you to enter his home first, stepping out of the way for you. Soon after, he walked in behind you, closing the door behind you as you stood in his dark living room. He carefully slid past you, his hands reaching out to your waist to stabilize you easily as he walked over to a corner. Soon the room began to illuminate, allowing you to look at the quaint and simplistic living room. There was barely anything in the living room, a simple couch, a table along with a record sitting in the corner. Erwin straightened himself before turning around and walking abc towards you. 

“Let me take you to where you’ll be resting your head, love.”

He took you by the hand, causing you to gasp as he took you towards the stairs, which you hadn't noticed right near the front door. He guided you up the stairs, your bag still sitting and swinging on his shoulders. Coming up to the second floor, he took you down a hall before pushing a door open. You tilted your body behind him, peeking into the place where he led you. It was a bedroom, presumably the place where you would be resting your head for the next week or so. It was simple, a bed on a wooden stand with a night drawer right beside it. You followed behind him as he placed the bag right onto the bed before turning around. 

“This is one of the guest bedrooms, mainly for Levi whenever he comes into town, but he’s busy working on another case.” 

You blinked, nodding along as he explained where some of the things are. 

“The bathroom is the door right here,” he said, gesturing to the only other door in the room. 

There was also a huge dresser, instead of a closet which was fine as well, better for you since you wouldn't be staying for long anyways

“There’s one more guest bedroom down the hall, but it’s unfurnished so it's just full of boxes. So the only other room you’ll see up here is my own room.”

You turned towards him smiling, eyes welling up with tears of appreciation, “thank you again for this Erwin, you really didn't have to.”

He approached you, his long arms reaching out holding you on the shoulders, “how many times do I have to tell you, it's not a problem, love. Now, make yourself at home.” He said, before letting your shoulders go. 

He gave one last smile, before walking towards the door, opening it, and walking it out. The moment he left, you let out a sigh of relief, fanning off the sudden heat of nervousness from your face. You crossed the room, sitting on top of the bed before reaching for your bag. This was all you had brought with you when you left your home, most of your things water-damaged from the storm. You unzipped it, before sifting through all your clothes and things before pulling out a few night dresses that weren’t damaged. 

The rest of the night was uneventful, taking a shower to wash off the smell of alcohol and food on my body before slipping under the cool sheets. Despite the obvious unused in the room, the sheets still smelled fresh, like they were recently cleaned. You smiled, relishing in the soft feeling, unlike the itchy blankets over at the motel. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

It had been three days since you had taken solace in Erwin’s home, and the two of you found yourself in comfortable waters so easily. At first, it was nerve-wracking being in such close proximity to him, but you soon found it easier the more he reassured you. He had shown you around in the morning after you had arrived, before personally walking you back to the bar to open up for the day. He would meet you at the end of the day, even if he had night duty, to walk you back to the house as well. His pure actions and gestures only made you yearn and pine for him more. 

As you stood in his kitchen, the bar closed up early to account for the sudden curfew the mayor had just put out. You knew Erwin was working hard and late nights, you would hear him come in late at night sometimes, your mind only tuning into his heavy footsteps creaking against the wood floors before falling back into your heavy sleep. And like clockwork, he would get up at the same time as you, to walk you to the bar. He would come in when it closed to walk you home before heading back to his office as well. You knew it was weighing over him, all this responsibility to bring peace back to your town, where more and more people were coming in from the city to experience the rush happening all over. 

You glanced over to your left, out the window, where you could see Erwin’s form hunched over, barely illuminated by the light inside the home. Sighing, you closed the pot of stew you were brewing, wiping your hands cleaning with a wet rag before walking out, towards the door. The breeze was blowing slightly, sand sifting out in the distance. The scenery in front of you was enjoyable, much more than what your own home would have to offer. The slight rancid smell of smoke pulled you out of your thoughts. Turning towards your right, seeing the blonde man hunched over the railing, a cigar in one hand, a glass of brown liquor in the other. 

“Those things’ll kill you, Erwin.” you spoke out, cutting through the slice of the night. 

His head turned slightly towards you, eyes staring right back at you. He smirked, lifting up his cigar before taking another hit. 

“This stress’ll kill me before these things do.”

You rolled your eyes, walking towards him, taking the space right beside him. The cigar smoke only smells stronger, so you knew this wasn't his first one of the night. He leaned back suddenly, throwing back the rest of his bourbon, pressing his half-burnt cigar into the railing, making another of what seemed to be numerous burn marks. Glancing behind you, at the small little area Erwin had set up on his porch, you found the bottle of bourbon along with a pack of cigars and another empty glass. You took a step back, grabbing the bottle and the glass before standing right beside him again. You poured yourself one before pointing the bottle towards Erwin, who looked down at the bottle, before holding his own glass out. You poured halfway to his cup, before placing the bottle on the railing beside you. 

You turned back towards him, tipping your glass towards him, and Erwin immediately clinked it with yours. You took a sip while Erwin basically downed the whole thing once more. Pulling the glass away, a scowl appeared on your face as you looked at the drink. 

“I still don’t know how you people drink this type of shit,” You spoke, reminiscent of when you took a sip of beer a few days ago, leaning down again the railing, holding the glass with two hands. 

He chuckled, shuffling closer to you, leaning over the railing as well. 

It was silent between the two of you, just taking in the scenery at the moment. The wind was blowing just a little harder than before, the air smelling just a bit humid from the past storms tormenting the town. You could see the Kierstein ranches in the distance, along with the forest where your friend and coworker lived as well. 

“Tell me what’s on your mind Erwin, you know I’m worried.”

His chuckle lightly echoed through the almost empty home, facing straight as he pushed himself up, ���Hange’s been on me about getting these bandits. Luckily it seems they’ve stopped for now, but we still can't find whatever they’ve stolen. Towns ‘n a riot.”

You knew about the last part, as many angry men walked into your bar, cursing out both the thieves and Erwin for not finding their missing things. You were only lucky that your bar still hadn't been hit yet, but you couldn’t say the same thing for the other bars and pubs around town. You’d honestly never have seen anything like this, the way people have only confirmed three people yet they were able to flip a huge town like this on its head. You move your hand on his face towards his back, rubbing and caressing him trying your best to provide some solace. 

“Cut yourself some slack Erwin, there’s only so much you can do in this. I’m sure you are doing all you can.”

He only sighed, leaning back fully, looking up towards his ceiling, “but am I doing enough? There’s something I’m missing in this.” He shook his head, hand reaching up and basically slapping his forehead. 

“Fuck, I got a nasty headache,” he mumbled, before suddenly sniffing. 

He blinked, eyes furrowed in confusion, before turning back towards you, “you cooking something?”

You blinked, before the smell of char hit your nose, causing you to jump straight up. Squeaking as you raced inside, throwing the door open before running back to the kitchen. You reached the stove, grabbing the pot before moving it to an unused burner kneeling down, disconnecting the gas. You could feel Erwin’s eyes on you as you lifted the pot, sighing in relief as the smell of strong spices and herbs fully filled the air instead of a charcoal-burnt smell. Slowly you turned towards Erwin, locking eyes with his slightly concerned ones. 

“Want some soup?”

He smiled before standing up, you tried to tell him to sit down, as you didn't want him to do any to aggregate his said headache even further but he didn’t listen to you. He crossed the kitchen before standing right behind you, placing his hand on your waist as he reached up to the cupboards.

“‘Scuse me, love,” he said, opening the cupboards to bring out two bowls. 

His large hand rested right on your waist, letting an almost silent shaky breath as he squeezed it, bringing down the bowls to your level. Your hyperawareness only caused you to ache down there, your thighs squeezing together as he placed the bowls down on the counter. He helped you prepare the dishes, washing his hands before he did so. He grabbed the silverware along with two glasses of water as you ladled the food into the bowls. The two of you carried the food into the living room, rather than the fancy little dining room Erwin barely used. The two of you sat right next to each other, eating away at the late-night dinner you made. 

You did your best to keep Erwin’s mind off of work, and it seemed to have worked, the tense furrow on his brow reposting as you spoke of the latest gossip between the townsfolk, what you would hear day by day. How one of your long-time patrons’ had suspicions of his husband cheating, only for his husband and best friend to roll in two hours after he left. People have a lot of audaciousness is what he said after you told him about that. 

The soup you cooked soon disappeared between the two of you, along with the glasses of water as you spoke way into the night. Erwin had brought in the bourbon he was drinking, and the two of you shared the bottle, diluting it with water of course. You don’t know how it happened but the space you had put between you and the tall man had slowly decreased. Your thighs touching, shoulders grazing each other, the two of you unconsciously getting closer. 

“Oh, you got a little something here, love,” Erwin suddenly said, cutting into your giggles. 

Before you could say anything, his hand suddenly reached out to your face, his large hand cupping your face. 

With a slight sharp inhale, you could only look over at the side, seeing his thumb rub away at stains you had not seen from the corner of your eye. Erwin rubbed at it a little harder, but it seemed the smudge wouldn’t go away. He moved closer to you, leveling eye contact with you as his rough hands finally cleaned off the stain. By then, his face and you were so close together, your noses were barely touching. You let off a smile, thanking him for the help. He only smiled at your face, but his hand still rested on your face. Breathing deeply, as you closed your eyes, the scent of his sweat mixed in with his cologne, the smell of smoky vanilla bourbon, and cedar wood, along with the smell of blackened cigar smoke. It didn't deter you though. You could feel his presence get closer to you, the heat of his face radiating into your own. 

You opened your eyes just in time as Erwin closed the gap between the two of you, pressing his lips harshly against your own. You gasped, the sudden intensity catching you off guard, the sudden pressure causing you to stumble back a bit. Reaching up to him, one hand reaching up to his shoulder and the other resting right underneath his jawline. He tasted savory, the lingering taste of your late-night dinner still on his tongue. It didn’t deter you, in fact, you only pushed against him, your panties beginning to soak as his arms reached around you, wrapping and picking you up with ease. He placed you right on his lap, his other hand leaving your face, sliding down your hips to underneath your bottom, cupping it before squeezing gently. 

You suddenly let go of the kiss, lips wet as looked down into his blue eyes, which seemed deeper in color than usual. His usual cerulean blues now looked more like royal blue as you pressed your hips against him. You could feel his hard-on pressing up against your panties underneath your thin dress. Your hands reached, running them through his blonde hair. He smirked, lifting his head to look up at you.

“Erwin,” was all you said before he kissed you again.

You were much more ready for his kiss, accepting it with equal pressure. Unconsciously, your hips began to move above him. His gentle squeeze turned brutal as you rutted into him more, your juices beginning to seep into his rough jeans. Your hands soon left his hair, sliding down his neck, your delicate touches only causing him to shiver against you. Your manicured nails soon reached down to his shirt, the first few buttons unfastened already. Unbuttoning the rest, your hands grazed over his muscles, over every ridge and every scar from years on the job. He shivered under you, letting go of the kiss for a quick moment. 

“So fucking long,” he groaned, moving up against your ear, “I’ve waited for this.”

Before you could say anything, Erwin cut you off, pressing his wet lips behind your ear, trailing down to your neck. Steadying yourself, digging your nails into his side as he reached your collarbone, nibbling away at it. The aching within you only growing, and sweat beginning to drop down your back, seeping through your thin dress. His head soon dipped to the valley between your breasts as your own hands slid down to his jeans, fiddling with the belt that held them up. Erwin’s large hands left your bottom, reaching under before grabbing at the fabric. 

You could hear a stretch, the sound echoing through the room as you gasped, lifting your head to glare at the sudden cool air breeze against your back. 

“Erwin! I really liked that dress!” 

He only chuckled, seeing the rest of the scraps falling off your body, leaving you and nothing but your drenched panties. He only groaned at the sight, his hands leaving you as they shrugged off his vest, unwrapping his scarf. You assisted him, gliding your hands underneath the sleeves of his shirt, before sliding the shirt off his body. Once off his body. You threw the shirt into an obscure corner, before facing him again. Erwin thumbed at your panties, hooking underneath the waist and thigh band before slowly pulling it down. Your arousal dripped as you clenched around nothing, resting your naked body against Erwin’s half-naked own. Gasping as cool air hit your clit as he pulled your panties down fully, your nails digging into his biceps. The around you was hot as you lifted your legs up as best as you could, helping him slide the clothing off fully of your body. 

Seeing as you were fully naked while Erwin was still in his jeans, your hands gently brushed down his arms, reaching to his belt before slowly beginning to unbuckle it. At the same time, Erwin leaned down towards you, lips pressed against your neck. Hands fumbling as you shivered, the feeling of his trailing down your neck, towards your chest. His own hands slide up and around your waist, sliding up your abdomen before reaching your breasts. His large hands reached your breasts, pushing and massaging them. His lips soon wrapped around your hardened nipple, before sucking away at it. 

“Fuck,” cursing and gasping as a rush of euphoria shot through you. 

The fingers on his other hand squeezed your other nipple slightly, just enough to increase the inciting feeling rushing through you. Your hands slide up, grazing against his slightly scarred back, reaching into his soft, blonde hair before gripping harshly. The sensitivity in your nipples only amplified as he sucked at it. You let out long breathy moans as he teased you, letting out a particularly high-pitched moan as he suddenly pinched and moaned at your free nipple. Soon after he let up, the cool air hit your wet nipple before moving his attention to your other one. His hand slid back down your body, sliding in between your legs, before slowly parting your thighs, revealing your drenched cunt. His long fingers slipped in between your folds, swiping up and down in between them before slowly pressing his finger against your clit.

“Erwin,” you gasped, pulling on his hair, causing him to groan, lips still wrapped around your nipple. 

His finger continued to press and slowly rub circles into your clit, collecting the juices that continued to seep out of you. Your hips ground against him, your body aching for more, something else to fill the need trying to build within you. Erwin’s actions taunted you, his finger slipping in between your folds, the tip of his finger teasing the entrance to your hole. Your back curled as he slowly, ever so slowly, pressed his fingers inside of your, your arousal making it easier for him to slip inside of you. Your hips jerked and buckled, craving more and more stimulation. As he moved his finger, his mouth let go of your nipple, before resting his head right on our shoulder, lips lined up with your ear. 

“More,” you cried, burrowing your face into his shoulder. 

He only chuckled, his raspy chuckle only rousing you further, “you know you have to relax for me,” he mumbled. 

Taking a breath, you tried your best to, release the hold you have in his hair, sliding them and crossing them behind his neck, holding him close. 

“That’s it,” he murmured, before pressing another finger inside of you, “open up just for me.”

The stretch was slightly painful, but as quickly as the pain came, it went. You cried out even louder against his ear as his thumb pressed against your clit. Erwin’s fingers moved up and down inside of you, just as he began to nibble and kiss along the outer part of your ear, his heated breath only causing you to shiver and shudder against him. You tried to move your hips along the movement of his digits before a loud smack rippled against your skin, the pain heated so gratifyingly against you. 

“Stop moving,” his voice was harsh, it caused your heart to skip a beat. 

You trembled in his hold, but his voice commanded you, taking charge as your movements suddenly slowed down to a complete stop. 

“Good girl,” he groaned before continuing his actions. 

You could only whimper as his words, combined with the increasing pace of his fingering only caused the aching feeling building within you to surge and skyrocket. You basically drenched his fingers as he made his way with you, fucking you with his fingers while playing with your clit. Letting a high-pitched moan, you curled over, forehead resting right against Erwin as heat surged up and built within you. Your already quivering body trembles further. 

Suddenly, before you could reach that high peak, Erwin suddenly pulled his fingers out of you, leaving you shivering, cold and empty. You couldn't help but whine in his arms as he lifted his hands up, his two fingers and his top knuckles covered in your arousal. He soon pressed his hand against his lips, tasting your juices before licking his fingers clean. Once finished, his now-free hand joined his other, gripping your ass. Without warning, he suddenly stood up, his grip around you only tightening to keep you up in the air as you shriek, your arms tightening around his neck and shoulders. 

“Erwin—” you shrieked as you were lifted up into the air. 

Below you, you could see his pants and boxers pooled around his ankles before looking up to look at him. With no warning, you leaned towards him, capturing him into another kiss as you could feel him lifting the lower part of your body up, readjusting him and yourself. You melted into the kiss, your arms sliding back to allow you to hold his head between your heads. His usual cleaned-up hair was messed up, slightly drenched with sweat. Saliva was exchanged between the two of you, tongues swirling within each other's mouths. 

For a moment, you let go of his kiss, lips still pressed against him as you whispered, “I need you inside me, please, please, please, I can’t wait anymore…”

Erwin didn’t say a word, only enrapturing you into another kiss. Eventually, you could feel the tip of his hard-on pressing up against you, parting your inner labia. You let out a restrained moan into his mouth. With no other warning, he pressed on, overwhelming you even further. You abruptly let go of the kiss as you let out an impassioned cry, tongue falling out of your mouth as you brace yourself. The intensity had you convulsing within Erwin’s arms, your shaking legs easily held together by his strong arms. You could hear Erwin grunting and letting off heavy groans as he began to bottom out into you. His motions started off slow, just like his fingering actions before, allowing you to get used to his large size. The heated pressure around adding on to the sweat dripping down your body as Erwin began to move. 

“Fuck,” he cursed in your ear.

“Erwin,” you called out his name, laying your head on his shoulder as your face twisted in intensity. 

He grunted against you before speaking lowly into it, “Move your head, wanna— fuck— wanna see your pretty face.”

His voice was thick and sweet, like the most delicious chocolate cake, it coaxed you, as you moved your head, your locs brushing to the side as you gazed into his blue eyes. His pace quickened, the wet smacks echoing through the room, adding volume to your already thunderous moans. It was overwhelming, Erwin was overwhelming, a man who commanded the space around him, you couldn't help but succumb deeper and deeper to his glamor. He ravished you, his restraint breaking more and more as he savored your expressions, your sounds, and even the way you smelled. Your juices leaked all over the both of you, his hips plunged into you, the tip of his cock hitting your very core. The two of you bring out the best and worst in each other. 

You cried out his name once more, your body lurching against him, “Erwin, ahh—” You were suddenly cut off by your own lewd moan, dripping in lust. 

Erwin let off a deep groan disguised as a chuckle as he felt you involuntary clenching around him, the sudden tightening pushing him to a whole new level. His once strong-rhythmic thrust became erratic in nature. 

“You gonna come for me, love?” He groaned in your ear, the grip he had on your ass bruise-worthy. 

Nodding your head erratically, you only had a moment’s reprieve before your climax came rushing at you at full speed.

“Aaaahhh,” you threw your head back in ecstasy as you went still for a moment, everything tensing over as your orgasm washed over you. 

Erwin wasn’t letting up, as overstimulation began to set within you, your recently mind-numbing orgasm not helping you. You could do nothing but hang off for Erwin as he basically used you like a fuck-toy until he had reached his own peak. With a few final grunts, you could feel him spilling inside of you. The room now only echoed with your heavy breaths. Slowly, you opened your eyes, looking at his drenched blonde hair before using what little strength you had to pick up your head. The two of you locked eyes before breaking out into soft smiles. The two of you placed soft kisses on each other, as he turned around before slowly lowering your connected bodies on the couch. He slowly lowered you there before easing himself out of you, a slight hiss leaving your mouth as he did so. You grimaced as you felt your mixed fluids beginning to ooze out of you. You bent down, picking up your panties before sighing at the scraps of your dress on the floor. 

The two of you cleaned up, with you walking around in Erwin’s shirt while he stood in nothing but his boxers. He helped you put away the soup, and clean up the bowls you used. Once everything was clean, he dimmed out the latent, swallowing you all in darkness as you waited for him by the stairs. You could see his presence right in front of you, before squealing as he suddenly picked you up, bridal style. 

You wrapped your arms around him, before speaking, “you always gonna pick me up like this?”

He hummed, as he made it to the top of the stairs, shifting his body towards his bedroom door. He easily opened it with one hand whilst still holding you up. His room was quaint, with not many decorations, the few you could see were mainly photo frames of him and his team of police officers. Erwin laid you comfortably on the bed, however before he could walk to the other side and join you. A loud knock echoed through the house, jolting the both of you. You looked over at Erwin whose relaxed expression now took on a more hardened one. He walked over to his dresser, grabbing a pair of sweatpants before slipping them on. 

“Stay here,” he told you, seeing as you were beginning to push yourself off the bed. 

His words were stern and clear, so you sat back against the bed, watching him exit the room. Outside, Erwin walked down the stairs before eyeing his front door. Besides him, he reached into a drawer to pull out his gun. He slowly walked towards the door, slowly placing his hand on the knob before looking through the peephole. Erwin saw the familiar figure, relaxing as he opened the door fully. 

Standing on his porch was his secretary, a person he was not planning on seeing until he went in for work the next day. 

Erwin placed the gun on the table near him,, “almost thought you were someone else, what are you doing here?”

She let off a little awkward smile before handing him a file, “for you, sir.”

Erwin blinked, before taking the file and flipping through it. The familiar notes and words had Erwin furrowing his brow.

“This is the Kierstein report… Jaeger was supposed to get this for me, yesterday.”

The secretary shrugged her shoulders, “you know Eren was never going to get it done, especially when it comes to Jean. So it was either get it done or get Jean on our ass again.”

Erwin sighed, smacking the file against his head slightly, the migraine that had gone away slowly returning as he thought about his most ambitious officer. 

“I’ll have a few words with him tomorrow, get home, go get some sleep.” He called out to her, beginning to close the door not before hearing a noise, resembling a giggle coming from her. 

“Oh I’ll definitely get some sleep tonight, I wonder if you will as well.”

Erwin stopped in his tracks, turning back towards his secretary before seeing her point toward his chest. Erwin glanced down only seeing small red and purple bruises littered all over his neck and upper chest. His secretary could no longer hold back their giggles, muffling them with her hand as Erwin felt a flush of heat run through him. 

“Just, just get home.” He said sternly, before slamming the door shut. 

He waited until he heard steps leading away from his porch before letting out a breath, leaning against his door for a moment.

“Erwin,” your sweet voice called out.

He looked up, seeing you standing at the top of the stairs. He could see the light from the hallway illuminating, allowing him to see you standing there, still in his shirt. 

“Everything okay?” you asked, beginning to take a step down. 

He nodded his head, before placing the file on his living room table and heading towards the stairs, “Yeah, just someone dropping off a report, I’ll be up soon.”

You nodded your head, fiddling with the buttons before slowly turning your body. He could only stare as you slowly unbuttoned each and every button, before slowly lowering the shirt, revealing the top half of your naked body. You said nothing, only giving him a knowing smirk before walking to the right back to his own bedroom. 

Erwin glanced over at the report, before looking back up the stairs where you had just stood before him, enticing him. With no other thought, he left the report on the table before scaling up the stairs, making it to his bedroom, and shutting the door behind him. 

taglist: @kanekisfavoritegf @daisynik7 @where-the-blackbirds-sing @nathalunalune @secretanimesimp @kentucky-fried-me @levin4nami @liv-vy @mortqlprojections @invisible-mori @desiray562 @liliorsstuff-blog @sophiiluvvs @magictrump @ventdavi154 @ircngirl @lostinbeidou @missmadness123 @introvered-violinist @dior-fawn @saway4ma @reallongwire @nerdy-simp-7120 @stareatceiling @ehveerivv @zzg0d @custard-exe @phillygraves @rapsgoddess @pumpkin-toffee @theemrsjaeger @sharkiebarkie @jnsa-17 @itmightbejo @chile-im-embarrassed

[finelinepie]

Well I’m sorry your best friend has lied to you about what they’ve done. I’m not pressed at all, it’s her and her friends that are getting pressed since she’s being exposed as the horrible person we’ve seen that she is. You mentioned you’ve known her for almost a year, great, but the bullying of authors took place early last year when she had a Gc of writers gang up on another for simply venting and ranting to her, told them the author was trauma dumping. As well as last August/September when her group attacked the three others resulting in all three authors leaving their platforms and one harmed themselves from the publicly done bullying across private and public x accounts. If you’ve been shown screenshots by her, hate to tell you but she’s not showing you the full truth.

Most importantly Heartateasee has never once apologized to these authors, we don’t even know if these authors still use their accounts or if Heartateasee fully ran them off. All she has done is deny she made anyone harm themselves when plenty saw the proof she did, she’s continuously accused one of the authors she’s targeted as being behind exposing her. Meanwhile there’s been people who choose to stay anonymous due to the level of disgusting behavior we’ve seen in screenshots but there’s also multiple accounts that have been brave enough to comment or reblog her posts instead to speak on how they feel about this. There’s not one thing pointing to any of the victims participating in this, two victims even came out to another tumblr blog to confirm what was being said. Specifically the one who harmed themselves came out to clear their name of Heartateasee’s accusations once they were made aware Heartateasee still is targeting them. Both made it very clear they are not on socials related to the writing community anymore due to Heartateasee.

Heartateasee has said she’s only had issues with one author on X but screenshots of everything paint the picture that it was a group of two authors and then a group of three authors that she bullied. That’s five people in total harmed by this author. That is what we have an issue with. The lies to try and spin this her way are disgusting. She hasn’t apologized or taken any kind of accountability, she instead turns off comments and reblogs preventing people from showing her that it’s multiple people who agree on this issue. Exposing her isn’t harming the victims cause none are even on here to see it. And that’s on Heartateasee because without her those people would probably still be enjoying their hobby of writing.

I stay anonymous because I saw first hand the threat that was sent to Harrysbesti3 for having the screenshots posted. I’m not going to subject myself to any targeted attack by these people so yes I shall remain anonymous for my own safety.

Whether or not they are on socials makes no difference. you are still bringing it up. I don’t know how to make this more clear- BOTH PARTIES HAVE SAID THEY WISH TO BE LEFT ALONE

“I’m not pressed at all” *continues to watch her likes and repost numbers to anonymously message everyone who interacts with her.*

I do wish you’d stop the false claims that she hasn’t apologized, because she has. 2 of them have even said as much.

And here we are 6 months later wanting to see proof to clear up names and y’all still can’t give it. You can stay anonymous. that’s fine. But where is Leigh’s safety concern?? Because she was NOT the one to post that threat. Where is everyone else’s safety that is getting harassed because of your little army of anons? And you don’t know if they see it??? You don’t have their socials?? Then why are you fighting their battles for them??

Leigh has stated multiple times that she is sorry for the way the things happened. she HAS taken accountability for it.

I find it funny that you guys have now been causing Leigh harm longer than the said bullying and harassment of authors XYZ. What you are all doing is bullying and harassment in and of itself. And the anon posts need to stop, now and immediately.

I am letting you know that I have tracked your IP addresses and any and all attempts to remain anonymous are futile.

[rays-of-fire-and-ice]

Hi! congrats on the anniversary 🫶

For the fanfic request: Ichihime + second date ( first kiss ) 🍓🍞

As the Rain Falls

Rating: K/General with mild themes

Setting: little over a month after We do Knot Always Love You

Synopsis: Ichigo and Orihime go on their second date, both anxious and excited about their new relationship, but Ichigo has things on his mind he can’t shake off.

AN: First up, a sincere apology for how late this is!!! >_< I must admit, I kept getting writer’s block with this one, but I still wanted to persevere with it and try to write for different characters and a different ship.

At the same time however, I'll admit I’m nervous about this. I've never written a fic where Ichigo and Orihime are the main characters, and I know that they'll be written out of character as a result. And it's me, so this is probably more angsty than you wanted ^^;

I tried, and hopefully it makes for an entertaining read.

Hope you enjoy this one!

_______________________________

Ichigo tucks his hands into his jacket pockets and bounces his knee as he looks around AB Cookies.

Arisa, who is currently at the counter, told him Orihime was getting changed and should be out soon. It had been only two minutes since then, but why did it feel like longer?

He sits in the corner at one of the few indoor tables, mostly ignored by the customers coming and going from the store. All around him, the room is brightly coloured in pastel hues and styled in a way that makes it appear homely and cute. If not for Orihime, he wouldn’t normally come to a place like this.

When another minute passes, he thinks to pull out one of his textbooks and study while he waits. He only gets as far as frowning at his backpack. Why is he so nervous? It’s not like this was their first date – that’d happened just over four weeks ago – so where is this anxious, fluttery energy coming from?

He blinks at hearing Orihime’s voice drift from the back. He straightens when she emerges from the doorway behind the rows of breads. She’s dressed in a bright sweater and skirt, and her boots clack on tiles then the wooden floors when she lifts the counter top and steps out to his side. She smiles widely when she glances at him, and he can’t help but smile back in return – she’s one of the few people who has that affect on him. 

She only gives him her full attention after she says goodbye to Arisa, who in turn thanks her for her work. He stands up, shouldering his backpack as she approaches.

“Kurosaki-kun,” she greets. “Sorry for you keeping you waiting.”

“It’s fine, you didn’t take that long,” he says. He tips his head towards the exit. “You wanna get going?”

They end up in the main street of Karakura Town, walking towards the shopping district. Cars rush by and people crowd the streets. Above them is a mostly blue sky, but clouds linger.

“How was your day?” Orihime asks.

Ichigo shrugs one shoulder. “Nothing much. Just went to lectures mostly.”

“Which ones were they for?”

“English studies. What about you? Anything happen today?”

“A lot, actually. I told Ari -- Oh, wait!” She comes to a stop and reaches into her bag. “Are you hungry?”

Before he can even respond, she pulls out a bread bun and breaks it into halves. “It’s got red bean paste and strawberry in it,” she says as she offers one half to him. “It’s spares from the batches I made this morning, and I thought, since you were up early…”

He smirks fondly as he takes it from her. It’s so typical of her to think of something like this. “Thanks, I think I need this.”

She practically glows, and he has to bite into the bun to not embarrass himself with a stupid grin and chuckle. He hates how this reminds him of the way his father acted around his mother. He hopes to never be like that with Orihime, but even so, there are those moments where she gets to him, where her happiness and excitement become almost infectious.

“Is it good?” she asks.

He nods, mouth full, and it only makes her beam wider. He bites harder into the bun the next time as heat rises up his neck.

“So, I made that new donut for Arisa-san and Ichinose-kun,” she says.

“Oh, the one with seaweed, strawberry, and cashews?” he asks, trying to keep the wariness out of his voice; these new recipes she comes up with always mean a lot to her, even if he can’t comprehend them.

“Yes! Although I had to change it. I think I brought them around to it after create one without the cashews, but I'm starting to wonder if maybe peanuts might work better.

"I-Is that so?"

"I just think it needs a salty or nutty element! It still tastes good with jut the seaweed and strawberry though. They’re thinking about putting it in the front.”

Despite his reservations, he can’t help but he proud of her and his smile returns. “That’s great, Inoue.”

Something must show in his expression, because a faint blush colours her cheeks. “A-Anyway, after that I was speaking with Arisa-san…”

They keep walking down the street as Orihime talks and occasionally nibbles on her half of the bun. He listens to her, and as she carries on about her work – about the small things like finding a gacha trinket on the ground on her way to work, and bigger things like a corporate event who requested catering from the bakery – they wonder from the streets to a nearby park.

For not the first time, he thinks about how peaceful its' become. He still fights Hollows, but isn't as often as it used to be. There’s no looming threat over them, nothing to stop them from being by each others’ side. It’s why, along with seeing how happy Renji and Rukia were, and the former’s encouragement, he finally decided to ask Orihime out.

Their first date had been clumsy in the first hour. He’d planned dinner and a movie, a typical date night according to Keigo and Tatsuki. After Ichigo arrived late and Orihime got flustered trying to reassure him it was fine, the air had been awkward around them. Just the week before he’d confessed to her, and she did the same, and now it’s apparent their feelings for each other were more than either of them thought. Gradually, after they'd finished their dinner and they left to go see the movie, things eased.

Perhaps that where these fluttery nerves came from, left over from their last date. He'd thought he'd be more relaxed consider today’s date was even simpler: a walk in the park, then find a restaurant for a late lunch. It’d been Orihime’s idea, claiming she didn’t need to do anything fancy or complicated with him. He can’t help but suspect she had him in mind though, knowing he’d be tired from his studies and late nights of fighting Hollows and performing konsos on a wondering Souls.

Yes, he thinks as he finishes off his half of the bun, he’s grateful for this peace.

However, like how Zangetsu’s voice had haunted him in the months after the Arrancar’s invaded Karakura Town, there’s a part of him that lingers in the back of his mind, skeptical. It makes him notice the crowds all around them. Parents watching their children run and play around the park. Couples occupying benches or walking past them in their own worlds. A group of teens in school uniforms hunched over a manga magazine, laughing at something they’ve read. Everyone here had been under threat just over three years ago, and they hadn’t even known it. He’d defeated Yhwach, and yet he’s still haunted by ‘what-ifs’. What if he hadn’t defeated him? What if another threat lurks right beneath them, one that hasn’t been seen yet?

“Kurosaki-kun?”

Ichigo blinks out of his reverie. “Ah, sorry.”

Orihime blinks up him in concern, and had brought them to a stop at the park’s fountain. “Is something wrong?”

He thinks to hold it back in, to do what he always did and bottle it up. He’d stew on it, but it would pass or continue to linger somewhere within him, as everything else had. But what had helped him get over it? Rukia had, and Chad, and Uryu, and Renji, and Orihime. He should be able to tell her anything, especially now that they’re going out.

He doesn’t want his mood to bring the date down, and he knows if he says it’s nothing, she’ll drop it, not wanting to pry further. Even so, he knows she’ll worry about whatever is bothering him. He can’t do that to her.

He’s not sure where to start, but he opens to his mouth to say something.

And then there’s a plop on his head.

____________________________________________

Orihime had imagined scenarios like this many times. Ichigo would grab her hand and they’d rush down the street, the rain falling over them as their feet splashed through puddles. Somehow, the clouds would be thin enough that the sun would peak through, making colours more vibrant beneath the glittering rain. At some point, in slow motion, Ichigo would look over his shoulder at her, hair somehow unaffected by the rain and haloed in a lighter shade of orange. smiling confidently, and saying something heroic or sweet.

And right now, Ichigo turns his head over his shoulder, cringing with his bangs plastered to his forehead, panting for air, and trying to blink the rain from his eyes. “You okay?”

She too has to get rid of the drop falling around her eyes to see him, wiping them and a strand hair stuck to the side of her face away with the heel of her palm. “Y-Yes! But where are we going?”

The rain comes down in torrents, drenching them in less than a minute. Around them, everyone is rushing out of the park and back to the shops that line the streets. She considers asking if they can head back to AB Cookie, but considering how soaked they are, she doesn’t want to cause any trouble for the staff in cleaning up after them; they’d probably make puddles in the middle of the store.

They run across a zebra crossing, and then next thing she knows, Ichigo brings her under the awning of a closed up shop. They almost hit the shutter door, stumbling under the shelter.

They take a moment to catch their breaths, with Ichigo hunched over and Orihime leaning against the shop’s garage door.

“This rain came out of nowhere!” she says. “The forecast was sunny. Guess I should’ve known better when I saw the clouds.”

Ichigo rises from his hunch. “You can’t predict the weather, Inoue.” He half teases and half reassures her, and she’s grateful for it.

“It’s still a shame we can’t go to the park now,” she says.

“We'll go another time. There's other stuff we can do. Unless you'd rather head home."

"Maybe we should wait until the rain stops...or there's less of it."

He only hums in acknowledgement.

It’s only then she realizes he still hasn’t let go of her hand, and she fears looking down at their joined hands and drawing attention to it will make him want to pull away. She discovered very quickly he got embarrassed by PDA – whether it was between them or with other couples. It’s oddly cute to her, and she herself still wasn’t sure if she likes it either. Holding hands like this, though, is something she’s always wanted.

The skin of his palm and fingers is rough from callouses, but the back side is softer than she expected. And it’s warm despite the rain.

Without meaning to, she squeezes his hand, and he looks down. Instead of pulling away, he tilts his head to the sky, almost shyly. She withholds a bewildered giggle. He can still surprise her, it seems.

It’s a minute later when the rain lessens.

“It’s not as bad now,” she says.

“Yeah…” He’s not fully there, his gaze turned up at the clouds. The rain affects him in a way she doesn’t fully understand yet. In the years since she first met him, whatever grips has gradually faded from what it used to be.

“We can probably head…” she starts, but trails off.

Now what? They can’t go to the park, and they can’t go out to lunch with their clothes so drenched. Maybe they should call it a day, and try again for next week sometime. But as Orihime eyes Ichigo, seeing the slight clench in his jaw and the way his eyes narrow at the sky, she knows she can’t leave him alone.

“Um…”

At her nervous fidgeting, he blinks, coming out of his daze, and looks to her. “What is it?”

“We can, um…w-we can head back to my place. It’s close by, so…”

Orihime tries and fails to push the heat rising to her face. Yes, Ichigo has been to her place many times before, but not since they started dating. Who knows what could happen? She tries to dismiss the sparkling fantasies that threaten to take over her mind.

“If you’re okay with that," he says, "just until the rain stops.”

“Of course!”

“Well, then, thanks.” He gentle pulls on her hand. “We should get going.”

He begins to lead her back out into the rain again.

“Actually…”

“Hm?”

At his raised brows, Orihime quickly bows her head. “Ah, yes, sorry! I uh, just…actually, nevermind!”

“Hey, come on. What is it?”

Orihime drops her rueful smile with a defeated chuckle. “It’s just that, after our date, I planned to go to the convenience store to pick up a few things. With this rain though, it’s probably better that we just head back.”

“We can still stop along the way. You’ll need help carrying things, right?”

She’d never point it out, but there were times she senses an eagerness from him, one he’d keep reserved under many layers. It’s another endearing quality she secretly loved about him. With a nod, she says, “Then, if it’s not too much trouble….”

He gives her a small smile. “It isn't, Inoue.”

She has to turn away as her heart skips a beat.

They make a quick dash to the convenience store that’s a few minutes from her home. She stops under the entrance’s awning and grabs the end of her skirt to wring some of the rain water out. She barely hears Ichigo’s quiet chuckle over the rain. “Don’t think it’ll make much of a difference.”

“Well, we might end up making puddles in there,” she reasons.

“It’ll be fine, we’re not staying long, right?”

As soon as they enter the convince store, Orihime bows apologetically to the cashier. Ichigo just sniffs, trying to cover up another chuckle. She’s quick to go the aisles for milk and despite the slight indignation rising in her, Orihime is glad to see faint amusement in Ichigo's expression.

She’d also imagined a scenario like this, albeit without them being wet and cold. Somehow, though, she liked how this was turning out instead. Maybe it’s knowing Ichigo is following her as she went down the aisles, his footsteps always behind her or at her side. Maybe it’s the fact that when she picks up a cup of noodles, he asks what she’ll make with it, and even as she lists off all the ingredients that sound odd to put with it, he offers weary encouragement. Maybe it’s discovering he likes a particular brand of rice crackers when she goes to pick up her usual one, and explaining to him why she prefers this one over the others. They’re small, mundane things, but every little part of it is something she can say she’s experienced with him now.

Everything comes to a halt when they get to the freezers. Orihime almost frowns when she has to crane her neck to see the milk she normally buys. “They must have moved everything  around, these never used to be so high up.”

She opens the fridge door and stands on her tippy toes.

She stops when Ichigo steps up behind her and reaches his hand into the freezer. “I’ll get it.”

Her back is almost pressed against his chest, and as she turns to look at him, she’s struck once again by how tall he is. From this angle she can admire the strong line of his jaw, and watches a raindrop roll off it and hit the collar of the shirt beneath his jacket. Once he hands her the milk, she snaps out of it. “Ah, thank you!”

However, neither of them moves. Orihime stares up at him, and he stares back. Her heart flutters at the hint of softness in his gaze. It’s nothing like her fantasies, where there’s sparkles and flowers magically appearing around them. She swallows, unsure if she’s bold enough to do what she’d always wanted to ever since he confessed to her.

Before she can think any further, Ichigo clears his throat and abruptly turns away. “Sorry, I, uh…”

Orihime shakes her head and takes the bottle of milk from him. “Ah, i-it’s fine! I, um…hey, look, there’s my favourite icecream! I should grab a tub while I’m here!”

She quick to move away, and she’s certain the heat colouring her face will dry her scalp in no time.

Several minutes later, she pays for the milk, a tub of biscuit and tea flavored ice-cream, three cups of noodles, two ramen kits, and a packet of rice crackers.

When they step back out, he holds out his hand. “I can carry it.”

“There’s no need.” When his hand doesn’t drop, she takes out the milk. “If you’re sure.”

__________________________

Whenever Ichigo enters Orihime’s house, he’d find his gaze wondering over to Sora’s photo. It happens not long after he takes his shoes off and he steps into the main room, and today is no exception as he removed his jacket and hangs it on a free hook; it drips over his shoes. He only looks away when Orihime puts the shopping bag on the kitchen counter.

She puts away the ice-cream, and it prompts him to hand her the milk again. “This too.”

She comes over to him, takes the bottle, and as he makes to step into the main area, she holds up her hand.

“Hold on a second,” she says before turning and putting the milk in fridge.

He doesn’t move beyond the tiny foyer, waiting for her after she dashes off to the bathroom. She comes out with two towels and holds one out to him. “It’s not much, but maybe for your hair?”

“You didn’t have to,” he says. But the it occurs to him he’d probably drip all over her floorboards. “You sure you’re okay with me coming in?”

There’s a pause, and a faint blush rushes up in her face. “O-Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Think I’m going to make everything damp,” he says while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

“Oh, no, it’s fine! It’ll dry eventually.” She lifts the other towel. “If you’re worried, you can always put this over the cushion at the kotatsu.”

He normally wouldn’t care, but he takes both towels from her. “Yeah, sure.”

“Make yourself comfortable,” she offers. “I’ll just go get changed and then make some tea. Or would you like hot cocoa? I got some a few days ago, I haven’t tried it yet.”

 “Tea is fine.”

She smiles with a nod before going to her bedroom.

He remains near his shoes, drying off his arms, face, and hair before going to kotatsu. After laying the second towel down over the cushion he sits. He continues patting down and drying his hair as he waits. He ignores the rain thrumming gently against the windows, and once again, his gaze wonders to Sora’s picture. A bowl of nashi pears lies on one side of the photo, and a recently lit incense stick on the other.

A part of him wishes he’d properly met her brother while he was still alive, so that Acidwire and the night he was brought to the Kurosaki Clinic weren’t the only memories he had of him. Compared to everything else, however, it feels like a distant memory, and it thankfully ended in a better outcome than others.

Orihime emerges from her room, now dressed in a new sweater and jeans, and a headband pushes her damp hair behind her shoulders. She hums while boiling the water and taking out the teapot. Watching her brings a sense of calm to him, and a relief that doesn’t surprise him as much as he thought.

It’s not the first time Ichigo wonders if everything they’ve been through has affected her. Does she still have bad dreams? How much had she told Tatsuki? Were there things she hadn’t told him yet? Would she ever tell him?

And perhaps that is what bothered him most. He, Orihime, and their friends had to live with those memories, and all of consequences that came with them as the world went on ignorant to what had almost happened.

He’d been almost ordinary once, going to school and getting into trouble with humans. At the time seeing the Souls always reminded him he was anything but normal, and since becoming a Shinigami, any chance of him being fully human had been dashed.

It had been his choice, one he didn’t truly regret despite everything that came after. He had been powerless to help others in need, to protect those he cared about, and Rukia had given him that chance on that fateful night.

But Orihime had been ordinary – or at least, more ordinary than him.

He didn’t know much about her parents, but of what little he did know, he knew they were the kind of people he would’ve kicked to the curb. And yet she had gone through that and was still able to smile, just as she had with everything that happened in Los Noches.

So caught up in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice her approach until she sets a mug down in front of him.

“Here,” she says. “It’s just black tea, I ran out of green. Didn’t think to get it while I was at the convenience store, silly me.”

He manages a faint smile. “It’s fine, thanks.”

She settles down to right, wrapping her hands around her own mug. After a moment, she says, “Before…there was something you were going to say. Do you still want to say it?”

He stares down at his dark reflection in the tea, considering. “It’s nothing major, and it’ll pass.”

She shuffles, and then her hand slides along the table and into his view, stopping centimeters from his. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” she reassures. “I don’t want to upset you.”

“You don’t,” he says, raising his gaze to her. “You never have.”

It’s a bold confession from him, and he’s saddened to see her withhold a wince. Perhaps there are still some things she holds from the past, misplaced guilt in her role of situations beyond her control.

“Inoue.” He gingerly takes hold of her fingers, and struggles to find the right words. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Maybe it is.” She brings her hand around his, her grip warm and firm. “Whatever we face, it’s together, right?”

For a second he’s brought back to facing Yhwach. He’d asked Orihime to be his shield, to fight at his side against a foe of unknowable strength, for a future that wasn’t guaranteed.

How could he have been so foolish right now?

He can’t help but smile ruefully to himself. “Yeah, of course.” Then, after swallowing thickly. “Are you happy?”

It’s a sudden question, one he hadn’t thought to ask but had come forth anyway. Sensing how loaded it is, Orihime looks out the window in thought for several heartbeats. Her lips form a slow, sweet grin. "I am."

He tries to ignore the skip of his heartbeat, and the uncomfortable way his throat constricts. Before he can say anything, she continues, and her smile wavers slightly. "What about you, Kurosaki-kun? Are you happy?"

He thought it would take him longer to answer, but it comes to him with a few memories. The first is returning to everyone after Yhwach’s defeat. Despite the mix of emotions -- the melancholoy of Yhwach’s final words and the pinch of fear for the unknown ahead of them --  it all dulled away to an intense relief at seeing his friends. Uryu stood far away, watching as everyone rejoiced at seeing one another. Ichigo knew a conversation would be had some point, but the fact he was there was enough hope for him for now.

The second was his high school graduation. He grumbled on the day it on the day, and despite how mundane it would seem to many compared to what he’d achieved in other worlds, he felt a small sense of pride at having finished it. Isshin of course was an embarrassment on the day, one minutes shouting his praises about Ichigo and the next weeping about how he's grown so much. He'd taken a picture of him and his friends together, one that Orihime had a copy of on the wall near her bedroom door.

The last was watching Renji and Rukia get married, seeing their friends and the Shinigami happy for them. It was only then the peace truly hit him, that maybe he can gather the courage to tell Orihime how he truly felt. And the excitement and anxiety that came when she said she was free three days from then.

The nerves from before hadn't just come from a change in their relationship, from friendship to something more, but from the thought it could be disrupted by a new threat. But he had chosen this dangerous life, and she had joined him and others in it. They all know the risks, but they didn't have to always be hyper-vigilant. They had to live.

“Yeah, I am.”

At her widened grin, he remembers for a short period of time after Yhwach’s defeat when Orihime had put on smiles, attempting to mask the sadness and pain she truly felt. According to Tatsuki, it had been while he was in his comatose state after Aizen’s defeat. In both cases, that gradually changed.

In the face of everything that had come before and because she had the courage to in the face over everything that tried to take it from her, she still smiles and laughs. She helps others and protects Karakura Town. He can see why otherwise would under-estimate her – he may have once himself – but in truth, she’s probably one of the strongest people he knows. He’d grown to love her for those reasons and more.

And he loves her for it. He gets strength from her because of it. He can go into this peace with her because of it.

It’s only then he realizes he’s gotten closer to her, so much so her face takes up most of his view. She stares at him wide eyed, her lips parted and her cheeks flushed as she tries to stammer out his name. It's just like before in the convenience store; she'd captivated him with just a look.

“Ah, sorry,” he chokes out, but he barely leans back. It’s as if he’s frozen in place, and the only way to come unstuck is to lean forward.

With one last gaze flickering to her lips, he leans in. She does the same before he closes his eyes. He’s be ashamed to admit he’d imagined this at more than once, but it’s not how he expected it to be. It’s soft and awkward, both of them frozen in place, afraid to move despite how misplaced their lips had locked. He pulls back a little and tries again. If Orihime’s quiet, pleased sigh and the way his heart beats faster is any indication, it’s better.

A warmth spreads through him, radiating from his chest and thrumming through his fingers. He’s light-headed as they pull apart, and when their eyes flutter open, his heart skips a beat at seeing the softness in her expression. He’s with her, holding her hand,

When the haze of whatever this is has worn off, he’ll elaborate further on what bothers him. And when he does, she’ll listen intently, holding his hand, and smile when he he’s done, and be glad he told her. More than that, however, she’ll be glad they can go together into this newfound peace.

Dealing with the memories of the darker and weaker moments had become easier him and the others as time went on. He, Orihime, and their friends kept walking forward in the face of it, and eventually alongside it, and one day, past it as they forge their futures.

[unluckyxse7enart]

Here's an abandoned Rosemary fanfic snippet I did back in 2020! The premise was literally "sharing fanfic with another as a sign of trust" so it was fun to write on a meta level, lol.

Pretty much the only context is, It's meant to take place early on on the meteor, I think either pre-dating or early into their relationship. Enjoy!

•••

Kanaya held the journal in her claws carefully, almost reverently.

"You're really sure I can read this...?" She looked up at Rose, her eyes seeking any indication of insincerity or insecurity in the other's. Despite her self-conscious smile, however, Rose seemed otherwise at ease with the concept.

"Well, I'm not sure it's worth that much fanfare or anything, but you can if you'd like to. I thought, since it's based on one of the books you lent me and all, you would be the one reader who best understands the source material... and would be able to point out any glaring inaccuracies I surely glossed over during my many late-night editing sessions," she let out a light laugh, and Kanaya could feel her cheeks warming up a little. She returned her attention to the manuscript in her fronds, bringing it closer to her thorax. Rose was letting her read her private writings... more than that, was trusting her, of all people, to be the first set of ganderbulbs - or eyes - to read it. Kanaya lightly chewed on her lower lip, feeling her fangs scratch the skin.

"I... am honored that you have chosen me to be your first reader, but surely there's someone more deserving of this honor than I? What about Dave?" Kanaya tried, though she still couldn't help but hold the journal tight as she spoke. Rose let out an uncharacteristically loud laugh.

"Hah!! Dave?"

Kanaya flushed again, although this time in mortification, trying her hardest not to shrink herself down behind the journal and severely failing.

"Trust me, Dave is one of the last people I'd let read my writing. Not that that's stopped him," the corner of Rose's mouth pulled down in a grimace as she reflected on something Kanaya could tell she really rather wished to forget. The look on her face passed, however, and she returned her attention to the present.

"Besides, it was you who first introduced me to the many fascinating and intriguing tales of romance from a long-dead alien world... I consider this a love letter of sorts to the spirits of those many departed writers, from the effervescent to the, well... cheesy. It's only fitting you read it, as the bridge between me and the final words of their ghosts." Rose smiled. Kanaya faltered, briefly confused.

"Rose, I thought you would know by now, I am not a rustblood. It is Aradia, if anyone, who would be the one to channel their spirits and hear their final words."

Rose tilted her head, a bemused expression on her face.

"No, Kanaya, I meant.."

"I'm kidding. Pulling your 'leg', as you might say," Kanaya offered a soft, mischievous smile.

Rose snorted.

"For someone who claimed not to get sarcasm, you sure do seem to have gotten quite comfortable with using it."

"What can I say? I had an excellent teacher, and bridge of my own, to show me the many wonders of human sarcasm and its applications," Kanaya laughed as Rose couldn't help but elbow her lightly - not that she would have noticed if it had been rougher. Rose still hadn't quite caught on just how sturdy trolls tended to be compared to humans.

"That said, if you really would like me to be the first reader, then I gladly accept. I am excited to see what you have written," Kanaya said, briefly holding the journal away from her long enough to flip briefly through the pages. Rose stiffened a little, though her expression did not falter.

"Oh, uh. You weren't... planning on reading it now, were you?" She asked, an edge to her voice. Kanaya quickly slapped the journal shut, perhaps a little too hastily.

"Oh, my apologies! I just-"

"No, it's fine, it's fine. I just was not... prepared... to see your responses to it firsthand."

Kanaya blinked, studying Rose's body language for signs of insult. Had she overstepped a cultural human norm? But as Rose's hand briefly brushed up to hold her other arm to her side, only to drop back down in a controlled manner, it occurred to Kanaya that perhaps she was more insecure about the writing than she let on, or at least enough to be embarrassed at the concept of watching Kanaya read her personal work.

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

A sign of affection from me is when I inevitably use too much lotion (happens much more often than it should) I will grab a friend or family members hand (they're always okay with this don't worry) and rub the excess lotion on their hands, think we can get rogue's (writers choice) reaction to something like this? idk i just find it a subtle but nice little way to show you care about somebody without using words.

"Lotion sharing" Rogues Party

This is very cute. You know, it's been a minute since I've done a rogues party. Lucky thirteen, woof! This is a good ask for it, too. All versions are general interpretations!

TW: None

Riddler

Sucker. Sucker, sucker, sucker- no, not you. Not this time, actually, this is all him. His very human need for affection (particularly physical in his case) often gets pushed down so far it's almost euphoric when he gets it again. It's very addicting and he doesn't want to let your hand go as it presses softly into his skin.

Instead he just gives you this goofy attempt at a smooth look, and discusses the positive brain chemicals attached to physical. Runs his fingers over the back of your hand with a toothy smile. You must have missing him while he was working, hm?

He forgot to rub the lotion in and he remembers after glancing down. A nervous laugh and he's rubbing it in.

Penguin

His hands sometimes resemble talons with the way he keeps them. So you might want to give him a little heads up or he'll accidentally scratch you. It's not intentional and he'll apologize if it happens. And don't suggest a manicure, he hates that garbage. Unless you want to wait on his hands in a skimpy outfit and- You cough, "Off-topic."

This will absolutely turn into flirting oftentimes. He asks specifically you never do this except when the two of you are alone for image-purposes. He'll gladly take some off your hands when he can make goo-goo eyes at you with no one else around, though. oh, he might need more. And yes, you should definitely help him with that-

Mad Hatter

He already has the softest hands. It's because despite all the work he does with clothing, drugs or machinery, he's always wearing some kind gloves. Protection of hands is key, after all. He can be messy or chaotic in every other sense, but he takes this seriously.

He'll give you a silly lopsided smile and say, "Dearest, this will never soak in!" He'll be rubbing it in all over his arm and down his elbows if he has that much exposed. He won't waste a fine gesture as this!

Scarecrow

If you catch him when he's really working, he might not even notice at first when you take one of his hands to rub the excess lotion on him. A lot of "hm? Yes, mm-hm-" Then his brows furrowing as he processes the tactile signals in his brain. He looks over and scrunches his nose when he realizes before rubbing it in. Then he's asking if you think you're quite cute.

Otherwise you don't get much of a reaction. He just takes the lotion, rubs it in and has this tiny amused sort of smile on his face.

Victor Zsasz

Oh that's nice. How did you know he wanted lotion? Your skin is so smooth and soft... He clicks his tongue, your wrist now in his hand. rolling it over and around gently. He likes seeing it against the many marks over his skin. A blank canvas- The things he'd do if you let him.

If he's feeling a particular way he'll press his thumbs into your palms, working the muscle. Feeling it move under his finger while working in the lotion. The way those dark eyes bore into yours, its like he's trying to be under your skin.

Killer Croc

He always needs lotion, so this is perfect. If his skin gets too dry, the "scales" get pronounced and even itchy. Plus growing up in a black community it was ingrained in him early on to use lotion to avoid looking ashen.

His skin sucks it up like water to a sponge sometimes. This is not a man who practices self-care. Yeah, he's not outright reckless and he at least tries now but stuff like that tends to fall to the wayside. Lotion him up, baby!

Harley Quinn

She SEES you put too much on and she's already got her gloves off making grabby hands. Come here sugarpop and lay it on her!

The reason she's so willing is she ALSO will do this. When she was in a more "proper" state she'd simply rub it in over her neck or her elbows. Can't seem too clingy or touchy, right? No one likes that. Now it's just another way for her to to show her love! So... both of you will definitely have moisturized hands.

Poison Ivy

What is this? What are you- oh. It's a sweet gesture but... darling, what lotion is this? You bought it? Ivy sticks up her nose. With her sometimes odd anatomy she's very careful with what she slathers on her skin.

However, you just gave her the perfect excuse to give you homemade lotions. Being a former scientist, she knows her way around an emulsifier. Plus her knowledge in all natural ingredients...

It smells amazing and has zero grease. Also she says it doubles for wound care? The only thing is sometimes bees want to get a little too close. Now you two can share lotion, though.

Two-face

Harv likely makes some small quip about you thinking his hands are dry. What, his dry calluses scratching you up, doll? Harvey simply tsks as he rubs it in and thanks you. He does tend to forget to use anything when in the throes of plotting.

Yet it's Harv that seeks you out when he sees you using lotion. Are you going to use too much? There's almost an anticipatory anxiety to it. He caught on early that it was affectionate, so he wants to nurture that. Even if it's just in his small way of saying he loves you.

Still probably gives you shit about it, though.

Black Mask

No, what is that- Let him see the bottle. He's very paranoid about things put on his skin because of his backstory. Granted, the disfigurement of hundreds of women due to faulty product put out by Janus Cosmetics was his fault, it did make him wary of the horrific things a cream can do to you.

Now that he knows this wasn't an attempt on his life (trust issues, much?), he's more accepting of the gesture. He doesn't "get" it but he'll allow it. Sure, sure, he's on a call. You can rub it in on his hand for him, sweetheart.

Mr. Freeze

....This will not work. Most of the time he's wearing gloves so he can't really just take lotion from you. Here, let his mask fall and you can rub in some excess on his face.

If you do this, your fingers are going to stick for a moment on his icy skin. He feels the burn but... it's alright if it's you. He'll take the sting for a taste of your affections.

The rare moments he's out of his suit, though, he'll gladly take some off of your warm hands. Feel you massage it in over his bony ones. It's so intimate. Because of his... condition... he can't allow himself to crave touch the way a "normal" person would. But he can allow these small indulgences.

Ra's al-Ghul

Oh. What a polite gesture. He was rather confused by it at first, unused to this particular love-language. It's not exactly something most people would feel comfortable doing to him. Or something he'd even allow.

What kind of lotions, do you like, love? He could get you the richest concoctions on Earth, if you wished. He is already getting used to the two of you sharing moments like these...

Bane

What are you doing? He kind of just stands there holding his hands out while you give him the excess. No one has ever done this to him before so the gesture is rather lost on him. For all his intellect and knowledge, he knows not the softness of sharing lotion with a loved one.

When you try to explain it, he breaks into a gentle smile. He sees now. Thank you for giving him this. He still has a lot to learn of a world and people who love him. Such an innocent, small thing that means so much.

[mollysunder]

I think the writers of Arcane have a chance to really solidify an interesting dynamic between Caitlyn, Vi, and their greater relationship with Zaun. I'm specifically thinking about what happens when Caitlyn finds out that it was Vi and her gang that robbed Jayce's apartment and caused the explosion. While Vi learns that her and the gang were actually fleecing a Kiramman property.

Caitlyn spent so much of the first season pulling back from lethal shots even with Jinx. All for her efforts to lead to the death of her mother by Jinx's hand. Then Cait learns that Jinx has been responsible for so much destruction for so long that has specifically affected her family, might completely send her off the edge. Cait would view her inaction, not firing at Jinx, as a her greatest mistake and she can never let anyone or Vi convince her to back away from a threat. . I can already see her become more intolerant to any threat or possible deviance, and let's face it, Zaunite culture is inherently deviant to Piltovans.

The revelation would also implicate Ekko in the heist because he was the one that stalked Jayce all the way to his apartment to case the joint. I can only see Caitlyn and Ekko's relationship further souring, for Ekko it would be because her plan put him in the line of fire against enforcers he stated kill his friends. But Cait might actually see how messily connected the Undercity's criminalty is connected to its citizens and how early it starts, in her perspective.

For Vi, the writers would finally have more time for her to respond about her feelings of herself before and after her imprisonment. It would be one thing for Vi to say she regrets that she did it, the revealing question is really why would she regret it. Because she almost hurt Cait and Jayce, her new allies? That it brought enforcers to the Lanes? That it's the reason her life was completely destroyed beyond repair? And would she apologize for almost hurting Cait without her knowledge? Or is she only apologizing because, with Powder gone and Zaun unrecognizable, she's one left and needs to hold on to anything that might still matter?

I'd imagine in the midst of conflict Caitlyn and the Medarda team might try to spin this as propaganda against Jinx as the one true source of the war. Jinx, an 11 to 12-year old professional criminal and master of destruction. It might work on Piltover, but it'd be a misstep in PR to get cooperatives Zaunites because everyone remembers the aftermath of the heist. Everyone in the Lanes would remember enforcers flooding the place, casually brutalizing their friends and families. How Sheriff Grayson's men would smash windows and shoot at children, and for what? Some stolen trinkets? For an accident where nobody died in Piltover, but everybody in Zaun had to be terrorized for it.

And after all that, it's not like the Kiramann's suffered any losses from the accident, in fact, they came out of better than ever in the timeskip. And now they're hearing from the daughter of the very Councilman who made a fuss and pushed with the rest of the council to have Zaun flipped upside down for 4 kids. One of whom is standing next to Cait. All in all, the whole revelation will serve to further alienate Cait and Vi from Zaun. the other Vi because And maybe Vi could learn more details about the aftermath of the heist, like

[fayes-fics]

20 Questions for Fic Writers!

I was tagged by @suspendingtime. Thanks my dear. 🫶🫶 Apologies I'm a little tipsy right now haha. 🤪

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

155. Ahem, hush you. I started writing 18 months ago. When I get a new hobby, I REALLY lean into it.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

481,485. Yup, almost half a million. Again, shhhh.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Only Bridgerton. Look, I have my hyperfixations, ok?

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

On AO3:

In His Lap (Short Fic) 181 

Temptation 177 

The Lesson 155 

Insatiable 149 

Are We Friends? 148

Tumblr notes:

Second Son 3,436

Sonnet #29 2,199

Rescue & Ruin 1,841

Awakening 1,827

Temptation 1,788

Wattpad readers:

Innocence, 30,600

Benedict Bridgerton Regency One Shots 23,000

Kinktober 2022 collection 16,300

Anthony Bridgerton Regency One Shots 10,400

Moments 5,800

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes. Always. It's just wonderful to get feedback. I read and respond to every single comment. They mean the world to me, truly.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably No Good Advice. I ended up writing Moments multi-chapter as I (and a friend) couldn't bear the idea they didn't end up together lolol.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All of them, tbh. I can't write an unhappy ending. Maybe the mushiest is Second Son, Moments, or It Had To Be You.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Luckily not much yet. I did get one hate anon early on. It wasn't about a specific fic, though. It said they didn't know why I had a 'please don't steal my work' disclaimer (the standard one that most writers here use) cos I was delusional that my work was worth stealing. 🤷‍♀️

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, it's my trademark. It's rare when I don't write smut. 😬 I'm not sure what is meant by kind of smut. I've written it all, from vanilla romantic sex to kink threesomes with harnesses and double penetration lol. I haven't had a request yet that I've turned down due to sexual content.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not yet. The closest I've gotten is It Had To Be You, which is based on When Harry Met Sally.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes, sadly, it has happened quite a few times now. I was so fed up with filing copyright takedown notices that I set up a Wattpad account to try to counter it.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I've been offered but have turned it down. I have no way to check that any translation would get across the nuance I aim for. So I know that may be anglo-centric, but its how I feel for now.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet, but I am always threatening to lolol.

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Hmm, tough one. I do love Kanthony tbh.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Benedict as a virgin. I just urghhh.... it's been a WIP for 17 months now. I just dunno why I won't finish it; I just get the feeling I won't.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I have no bloody idea. I'd prefer readers answer that tbh lol. My inclination is to say I don't have one, except perhaps a willingness to describe sex in ridiculous levels of detail? Is that a strength?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

World building. I will do anything to shortcut it. I'll find an economical way to describe a situation e.g. she's a widow; they're old friends. Got it? Good! Let's get down to business.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've done a smidgeon of French as I studied it for ten years. But I doubt I'd do another language tbh.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Only Bridgerton so far.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Bloody hell, I have no fucking idea. It literally changes depending on my mood. But I don't really care for my own writing that much, all I see is flaws lol. I guess the universe I would most like to write more for one day is Mrs Bridgerton and its sequel. Does that count?

No Pressure Tagging: A couple of my talented writing moots were tagged along with me on this (the lovelies @colettebronte and @eleanor-bradstreet). So lets go: @thebabblingbrookenook @fiction-is-life @ferns-fics @silverhallow @mothdruid @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @urchintoast 😁🧡🧡

[kitkatopinions]

When Blake had Sun by her side she was strong willed, capable, and motivated while fighting for what she believes in. Now that she's with Yang? She's like a totally different character and not in a good way.

I think there were a couple of contributing factors in the big Blake change.

One of them was definitely the relationship with Yang. People have pointed out that Yang underwent some changes too, they leaned into her more aggressive hotheaded tendencies and made her more 'butch' than she was before, and made her concern for her family secondary at best and near non-existent at worst, and meanwhile Blake got meek and cutesy and shorter than she had been and in need of saving more often than not. I'm not trying to say that they shouldn't have gone with the bees as a ship, but the way they did it, it almost feels like they felt like they had to change them to conform to some standard queer girl couple stereotype, and Blake suffered the most from the change.

But on top of that, I think that a lot of the change came about from how wildly they mishandled the Faunus-racism arc and their desire to get distance from it. They always did use Blake as a mouthpiece, whether it was in the early seasons when she was calling out Weiss but letting her get away with never apologizing or when it was season five and they used her to say their 'faunus on faunus crime' bit where she told the Faunus that they should be helping their oppressors fight off the bad civil rights group. So it really isn't surprising that when they were trying to make everyone forget about their mess ups and move on and see Adam as nothing but an abuser, they made Blake suddenly not care about or bring up Faunus rights at all, never mention her parents, Ilia, or Sun ever again, and made her suddenly 'the perfect palatable abuse victim.'

Even in V5 when Blake was wrong (because the writers were being awful, I have a hard time blaming the character for how the writers misused her,) she still cared and she was still passionate and would talk about the injustice of how the Faunus had gotten shuffled off to Menagerie. But they couldn't have Blake still care about the issues and be willing to fight the powers that be in V6 onwards, because that would remind everyone of how the writers screwed up the Faunus-racism thing. And meanwhile, she has to be 'the perfect palatable abuse victim' to make Adam look as bad as possible so that everyone will unquestioningly hate Adam and forget about how misused the Faunus and the White Fang and he were. So if Blake is a sad, flinching, wide-eyed, meek person who can't stand up for herself, fans will say "see what Adam did to her!" And not "Why did the writers make the only pro-Faunus rights group featured in the story a group of evil terrorists that our heroes must fight." Fans will say "Poor Blake went through so much at Adam's hands, how can anyone say such a vile abusive monster ought to have been portrayed differently?" And they won't say "Why did Blake's abuser have to be a leader in a pro-Faunus rights activist group and why did he have to have a cattle brand on his face indicating the hate crime he suffered?"

Blake stopped showing the 'less palatable' side affects that could be traced to her abuse, like a hot temper and her obsessive tendencies and her difficulties getting close to people and her more cynical side, and it's just a little hard to not think that it was purposefully taken from her to make her more palatable and pitiable so that more people forget about the injustices Blake and her people have suffered, and instead more people would think her only problem only ever was Adam, and focus more on how he hurt her than how the society they weren't interested in dissecting and putting effort into had hurt her and they'd focus more on Blake personally getting better and not in the society itself getting better. Whether or not this was done intentionally, this is how Blake's transformation feels. And just to clarify, I'm not saying that Blake's journey as an abuse victim and her path to getting better wasn't important. I think it was very important, but the writers actually haven't done a real 'Blake heals' story first off and as I've pointed out she actively feels less healthy now than she did in the first five seasons, and second off, it clearly wasn't the only important part of Blake's story and the rest mattered too. But they wrote out Blake's care for the Faunus and her activism, and heavily emphasized her role as an abuse victim while changing everything about her character to make her closer to Snow White from the 1937 Disney movie than she was to her V1-5 self.

So yeah, I think the relationship with Yang was definitely a contributing factor, but I think their attempts to move on from and deflect from their mishandling of the Faunus-racism allegory was also a really big contribution to Blake's character change.

[inkybloom-luv]

Words Unsaid 3, the crumpled page

♪~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♪

Ahsbjsbsjs putting this A/n here today?? Ausbshshs I hope y'all eat this one up too ngl cause the feedback has been,, immaculate sjsbsjsbshshshshdh not over it at all y'all make me giggle and kick my feet <33333

Can be read as x reader since I don't usually put the name down

635 words

Part 1 Part 5

Part 2 Part 6

Part 4 Part 7

tw: mention of near death (drowning)

♪~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♪

It's been a while since I wrote a letter, I misplaced the last paper and cannot find it, so I'm starting a new one. I wish I had very much more to say but I haven't been seeing you and I've been so exhausted I've reached my breaking point. Heck. I almost drowned, simply because the water breathing potion wore off early. I guess being out of this world does that. But it hasn't stopped me from panicking. I'm recovering fine but it's very lonely in ramshackle. I already mentioned I have barely any friends and the ones I do have are very busy. Jack comes from time to time and Leona sends Ruggie to check on me. Winter holidays are starting soon. Will you be leaving? I hope I'll see you before you do. I want to look at you again, see those pretty eyes one more time before you're gone for a while.

I'm not sure it's a crush that I feel for you. I'm not saying I would see you as a friend or anything, I definitely feel romantic feelings for you, but my concern is they feel.. stronger than a simple crush should. I long to kiss you, hold you. I want you to love me as I do you. Jamil Viper, you have my heart.

I've made up my mind to visit Scarabia today. I heard the dorm is staying here. I want to see you. I need to see you. I'm so happy to see you.

The housewarden Kalim had something floating around his eyes when he was acting up. A spell. But I haven't seen it before. It was odd, pretty even. It reminded me of you but I've hardly a clue what spell it is, when I get back to ramshackle, I'll be researching, surely that spell is the cause of your woes. And I will find out what it is, if only to slightly lighten the burden placed on you. You who is like a walking dream, the most wonderful of desert mirages. I wish I could tell you to your face.

The paper was crumpled and slightly ripped at the edges. Ink had somewhat covered a large portion of the paper that held scribbles about theories of what was going on, and further ramblings about just how beautiful the writer thought he was, how they longed for him, loved him even. And it was not Inky that held it. Dark eyes skimmed the text that grew more and more unreadable. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Blast it all. Hissing filled his ears. Hissing that was not there. His mind played tricks, not yet recovered from the heavy strain his body had been under. He hated it all, hated how he had accidentally blinded himself. How he'd overlooked something so obvious, she did always wear her heart on her sleeve.

He wished he could read more, but he'd dripped it full of ink. He'd crumpled it. He'd thrown it aside. By coincidence it wound up in his grasp again when he had returned to Scarabia, sitting down to rest his aching and unrecovered legs.

Jamil messed up. He really did. He felt blind and stupid and most of all he felt crushed, he was sure that the prefect no longer felt that way about him. He was sure she hated him now. How else would anyone feel if they'd have done to them what he'd done to her? For the first time he deeply regretted lashing out at someone. His anger wasn't even directed at her. He felt his eyes glaze over, blinking away his tears. It was his fault. But maybe. Maybe he could express himself, his sorrow and his apologies. He would have to. If only to selfishly soothe the painful feeling in his chest.

♪~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♪

@leonistic

@azulashengrottospiano

@dove-da-birb

@krenenbaker

[submalevolentgrace]

hi hello, sorry it's another amputee question, idk if you get tired of these. i found your blog and i like how you share your experiences, thank you for this. im abled myself but im writing a story, and i want my main girlie protag to have a prosthetic leg and here's the thing, i dont really have a reason for it. i guess it says something about me, don't know what, but i just don't know if that's considered, well, offensive, or rude, or something. i don't plan to have any focus on it in the story. the medium is a comic so it's going to be always visible as a prosthetic, but i don't want to explain it in-story either, no backstory, she would probably just have it since early childhood. it won't affect the plot. and that's where i don't know if that's even okay. it feels weird to want that, to include that, almost as if i need to somehow turn the story about it, to have some kind of statement. which i don't actually want to make or even feel able to make as never experiencing it. i want for her to have a prosthetic leg just because. and i don't have anyone to ask this, and i don't mean to offend you by this, and i apologize if i somehow did. but if it's okay with you to answer, i'd appreciate reading. if it's gonna be an angry rant i'd like to read it too. i know you're an upper body amp, but idk, i feel like this question isn't much about the use of prosthetics and more of the general amputee characters, and im scared to ask reddit, i don't even know if that ask made sense. thank you if you read that all, please don't feel pressured to answer. hopefully you'll have something good that brightens your day a little!

thank you, i actually really appreciate this ask! sorry that the response is long and wordy, i got a bit carried away…

so, i've gotten a lot of asks/dms/notes from writers asking about how to write their amputee characters/ocs after my big "writing advice" post, and i think i've ended up ignoring every single one of them, because… well, not to be rude to all those people, but they seem to have completely bounced off the whole 'know why you are writing this' thesis, too caught up in the excitement of their own fantasy to even notice the bit about understanding your own intent as an author and why that matters, let alone really engaging with it. and at that point, i don't think there's any advice or feedback i can give that would break through, especially when it seems what most people are seeking is little details and nuances to add authenticity to their token representation characters or unintentional stereotypes.

but, without any other details or nuances that shape a character's portrayal, based solely on what you've said in this ask, i feel like you're on the right track and probably gonna do fine. the thing that sticks out most clearly to me is how you phrase it, "i WANT to write a protagonist to have a prosthetic leg", you are acknowleding your role as omnipotent author, and i honestly think that's worth a lot more than many people realise when it comes to crafting fiction. you've acknowledged your desire for this character to be a certain way, and you're being introspective about the source of those desires and how it will come across - and that means you're almost certainly also thinking about how it interacts with the rest of the story, how it serves your themes, and how it will be interpreted and understood by the audience.

a lot of responses or people asking me for advice say things like "i am writing a character who HAS an amputation", implying it's an observable fact, pre-concluded before their authoring of them, and therefore something they're much less likely to examine critically. maybe it's unfair of me to draw such deep conclusions from shallow choice of language, but firstly, so many people have been far more obvious about it, saying a character "revealed" or "told" them about the amputation, or just straight up talking abot them as independent entities with their own agency, as if it's a biography and not fiction. and secondly, what are we even doing talking about improving the craft of our writing and how it will be recieved by the audience if we're not going to think about how framing affects interpretation? if someone is reaching out to me asking for writing advice, you bet i am going to assume this is a person who wants to improve the details of their own writing craft, and i'm going to critically engage with the tiny snippet of writing they've given me and analyse how it reflects on them, even if it is "just" a tumblr interaction. i don't even consider myself a writer really, the art i mainly dedicate myself to is music, but i still put careful thought into anything i write that's more than a few sentences, and think about the audience it will be seen by.

sorry, that's a whole other tangent… not at all about what you asked. but by way of example and segue back; what i see you reveal in the writing of your ask is a nervousness and anxiety to 'do well' in your writing, to create a character with an amputation in a way that holds up to scrutiny and criticism, and also a fear of what unfortunate things you might be saying and the responses it would provoke if you misstep. i can totally understand that, not just because you messaged me and i personally have a track record of going off on people lol, but also… yeah, people are very eager to judge and attack art based on a hidden metric of how 'well' it does 'representation' or handles things, and be vocal about the failings of things that make an earnest attempt. and i can see that it's very appealing to want to pull back and hide from that; a character who has a prosthetic leg opens you up to your audience critiquing how well you've handled it, most of them not amputees, many of them with the subtlety and media analysis skills of a sledgehammer… while if you write a story with no amputees in it, nobody has anything to critique.

unfortunately, no matter how well or carefully or authentically you write, there will always be someone engaging with it in bad faith yelling loudly about how awful you are; i recently made a short sharp post giving a trigger warning for medical abuse and body horror in the new zelda game that painfully evoked some of my own experiences, i still got people reblogging it telling me i'm ableist for saying disability is body horror (piss on the poor reading comprehension) and should apologise to all amputees (waves my one hand and nub around in a comical hello gesture). maybe that is on me for writing it quickly in an upset huff instead of making at least two proofreading and editing passes and oh geez, this is getting waaay too long and off topic. okay, to the point.

honestly, from what little you've told me, to be overly reductive, i'd give it a stamp of approval. sometimes people just only have one leg and that's fine, people are born like that, it's a thing that happens - and it doesn't need to shape the entirety of their lives, and reflecting that in fiction is more than just fine, i think it's what we need. sure any amputee character i write is going to be an overt commentary on ableism and medical abuse, because that's what i live, that's what affects me. but i know because i've watched their stuff on youtube, that there are so many people out there that were born limb different that just, don't care about it, and it doesn't really affect their life at all. if your protag has a prosthesis, sure she's had to get fitted for it and train for it, and it might benefit you to do an afternoon of research into that if you want to see how it might holistically flesh out her worldview (look up osseointegration vs external sockets, if you want keywords to help, look for patient experiences instead of doctors).

but also, if her other leg has finished growing and she's got a prosthesis that works, she may not have thought about it literally for years, maybe decades depending on her age. i had braces as a teen and it has zero impact on my life, i've had foot and back problems in the past, and it's irrelevant to me now other than getting new off the shelf shoe inserts every few years. i can think of at least one (australian) celebrity with a pretty long and successful comedy career who most people don't even know was born without one foot, it's just not relevant.

sometimes people just have things going on in the background that don't matter, and sometimes characters should have something just going on in the background too, no matter what "save the cat" sort of writing advice tells you. sometimes cutting literally everything out of a story unless it serves the plot or themes is bad actually, and i guarantee you, even as a hand amputee, i would absolutely LOVE to see a leg amp character who is just having a life, doing other plot relevant things. especially much more than i want to see all the characters of people leaving tags saying some version of "thanks OP, now i can write the suffering and torment of my oc much more authentically". think of the hypothetical little girl born without a leg that just wants to see someone like her.

and finally. what i think is maybe at the core of your anxiousness, at least to my read of your ask. you've thought about your role as author and self reflected about why you want to write a character with a prosthetic leg, and you can't find an answer in you, and you're not sure if that means it's something bad. well, assuming good faith from you, i think that's fine too. people who fetishise prostheses or amputations, people obsessed with the suffering or (percieved) depenedncy, or whatever else it is that makes them yearn to write their hacky awful robot arm characters; they probably don't do the introspection, and if they did, they'd find their answer right away (horniness or power fantasy usually), although i doubt they'd be honest with themselves about it, let alone others. assuming good faith and honesty, if you can't find in yourself WHY you want to write this character with a prosthetic leg….. it's probably just a harmless aesthetic preference.

if you wanted it to do cool things or make her more powerful or more special than others or be endless inconvenience and suffering or make her the chosen one because of it or something, that'd set off alarm bells for me yeah, and i'd be reading into it as a much more harmful aesthetic choice, and responding much more aggressively. but if you want to write a story about other things that features a protagonist who just so happens to have a plausibly normal boring prosthetic leg…. that seems fine to me, honestly. i tend towards having characters with certain hair and eye colour combinations that i find aesthetically pleasing, and as long as i'm thinking about how that could come across and trying to avoid any pitfalls around fetishisation and nastier implications, i think it's probably fine.

there are really only three concrete pieces of advice i would give you:

one, when you've got a cohesive first/beta draft, try to find at least one sensitivity reader who's got as similar disability experience as possible to your character (lower limb, same kinda circumstances, same general use of prosthesis), and listen to their feedback.

two, while i totally acknowledge that leg protheses can be super useful everyday kit for many people, i still have a general aversion to "this character NEEDS a prosthesis or they're helpless" readings, and many people don't want to or can't use leg prostheses… if it were me doing it, i'd make acknowledgement of that, and in a visual medium like a comic, i think that's as simple as having a single panel showing your character waking up in bed without the prosthesis, and maybe at her home there are forearm crutches leaning against the wall as background decoration. maybe if you have any scenes where she's woken up in the middle of the night, or interrupted before being fully dressed for the day, you could show them in use. but that's a personal value suggestion from me, your judgement or sensitivity readers might disagree on the importance of that.

three, you will absolutely need to establish as early and overtly as possible that the prosthesis and amputation DOES NOT MATTER to the story or her character arc. people still very much have a default normative body in mind when engaging with fiction, and anything that deviates from that will 100% be interpreted as a checkov's gun that they will be anticipating and theorising about going off, unless you squash that down. if you want to make a statement about it not mattering, unfortunately i think you're going to have to spell that out as obviously as possible without breaking the fourth wall, or else the audience trained on existing robot limb tropes will be waiting for the traumatic tragic backstory or secret rocket booster to become relevant.

but also…. i'm just some bitch on the internet, talking like i'm more important than i am, getting loudly angry about limb difference when i'm a pretty recent and unusual addition to the group myself. so like, don't take anything i say as absolute, and while it's always good to listen to others, at the end of the day you still gotta synthesise all their thoughts into your own.

i don't really have a nice concluding statement other than to say, thankyou for appreciating my post, and most importantly, thankyou for caring about the craft of writing enough to critically analyse your own authorship, and being curious about how to improve on a sensitive topic.

[sinelanguage]

20 questions for fic writers

taking from @fivedayslater who tagged anyone for this, i'll also pass around to 'anyone who wants to answer these questions is effectively tagged' but also @lostlegendaerie, @sharpenote specifically.....

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

36! not too shabby considering i'm not super consistent about writing.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

257,465! wow. jeez.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently One Piece, historically Voltron. 

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

predictably: this is almost entirely Keith/Lance.

Stormchasing: Keith/Lance handcuffed together fic i tried to pace like an actual episode! posting early in the fandom’s lifecycle gave it staying power, lol.

The Hustle: Keith/Lance espionage/heist-ish fic i cowrote with a friend. Really fun premise, and it was fun to co-write something!

Good Grief: Keith/Lance 5+1. i don’t remember anything about this.

Tallies: Keith/Lance 5+1. look… i wrote a lot of these.

Interstate 80: It’s not Klance! Jean/Marco, roadtrip modern day AU. i wrote this as a teenager, and i do not think this holds up whatsoever, but i made a lot of close friends through this fic and i'm fond of it solely due to that, haha.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i try! i have like, a half-life where if a fic is more than a year old i probably won’t respond because i’ve probably forgotten anything interesting to say. 

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Haha i wrote a hunger games AU for Attack on Titan? i don’t know what possessed me to take Jean Kirstein out of one horribly depressing canon and into another horribly depressing canon. 

Outside of that, i tend to stick to relatively happy or neutral endings. Most recently, Time Turned Fragile probably has the angstiest ending but i’d classify it as bittersweet really, even though Sanji like. dies? look. don’t worry about it

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Uhhh??? this is harder to answer … Inaba’s Self-Appointed Cat Adoption Agency is a fic that is probably the fluffiest thing i’ve ever written and as such has the most feel-good fluffy ending as a result.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not really! i’ve gotten a-bit-too-bold concrit in bookmark notes, but i wouldn’t really consider that hate.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nah lol. (gestures to weaknesses answer) it is not my forte, and i’m not super interested. 

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

not typically! I did write Turnabout Heart, which is a brief Persona 5 / Ace Attorney crossover, because I thought Sae being friends with Mia would be neat.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

ah, i found someone reposting my fic to wattpad once (username still attached). i just gently told them it was in bad form lol, it was wattpad in 2017 or so so I’m sure it was just some kid haha. they apologized and deleted it and their other stolen stuff so it’s all good.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope! Someone offered once, but never got back around to me. 

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! The Hustle from above, and for better or for worst which was a fun last hurrah for Keith/Lance.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

It’s really funny because i’ve never written for any of my all time ships lol. Ike/Soren is maybe my ship of all time. Keith/Lance i’m still stupidly fond of despite myself. i never even finished Voltron.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

this has historically been time loop fics, but I wrote two this year!!!!! Congrats to me!!

Currently i’ve been working on a Robin-centric Robin and Sanji roleswap fic, and while i have a good grasp on the emotional/plot arcs involved it is not easy to write Robin POV lol. i can only write characters who are more emotionally stupid than me. i keep chugging away at it though.

for one I know I'll never finish: I have a brief outline/scenes written for a Professor Sada/Robot Professor Sada (haha. lol. sorry.) fic that would be titled Stochastic Parent as a play on the machine learning term 'stochastic parrot', i.e. the principle that AI does not truly understand language, merely parrots it back to the user. i could not figure out how to write this without being on the nose.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Bizarrely i really like writing action scenes hahahaahaha. It’s one of the few scenes in fic i really fully visualize, so translating that is fun. emotions in a fight are fun too, i like writing fear. 

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

The main one: romance! More specifically though, physical intimacy. hilarious to write mostly romance fic and be bad at it. i’ve been actively avoiding writing kissing scenes for the last 10 fic or so. at this point i’m trying to see how long i can go without one.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Think it’s incredibly neat to see but i don't think i'll ever do it. i feel like i need to return my linguist card for this answer....

19. First fandom you wrote for?

some different answers here: Fire Emblem (never finished or posted online), Harvest Moon (posted on deviantArt and deleted when i scorched my warrior cats username from the face of the earth), and Attack on Titan (first fic on ao3)

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

All time it’s Dead Horizon. i got to write a lot of fun environmental storytelling and horror in that one, and I liked the emotional arc overall. i really like environments/settings in terms of storytelling, and i don’t get the chance to write much of that since i stick with shorter one shots typically. Still very, very fond of it. 

Recent stuff it’s Same As It Ever Was. i’ve wanted to do a Once in a Lifetime themed timeloop for ages but I kept dropping the concept, until now! Finally I wrote a scene based off the ‘not my beautiful house, not my beautiful wife’ lyric! dream come true.

[the-carlos-cow-eyes]

continuing here bc tumblr won't let me keep replying to your post//

(...) bother trying to get to the bottom of it, instead they just avoided him and looked at him as if he was a monster. then madison tried comforting him just for chris to learn a few hours later that she doesn't trust him one bit and that she complained to travis about him. so while it wasn't right of him to just watch on as madison got tackled by a walker, I'm also genuinely not surprised that he didn't jump to protect her. then the knife scene in the mansion, what the fuck was up with that? I didn't understand why he wanted to wake alicia in the middle of the night, why madison had a knife on the nightstand of the bed when the staff took all their weapons, why no one tried to confirm that no, chris did in fact NOT hover over alicia with a knife like she claimed he did and how he did not have any intention of hurting madison or alicia. just straight up an unnecessary scene to vilify him and then outcast him. and don't get me started on how much of a failure as a father travis was. from the start, he never listened to chris, never took his concerns seriously, never knew how to deal with his son's rage. all he ever did was try to suppress or silence anything chris wanted from him. chris TRIED communicating with his dad on multiple occassions despite his resentment towards him. travis had no fucking right to give up on chris, and that his son ended up trusting two manipulative strangers more than his own dad is all his own doing. fuck ftwd and travis. chris didn't deserve to get executed in an almost off-screen death scene. the fucking disrespect

it just frustrates me so much because he clearly had so much untapped potential. I wanted to see a redemption and growth from him. but what do I expect from the same writers that took carl from me 😩😩

NO, BECAUSE YOU'RE SO RIGHT!! Madison literally gaslit him after he killed Reed and It seemed like Alicia tried to befriend him In Season 1, but then she just does a full 180 and starts treating him like shit. Oh, and don't even get me started on how he tried to save her from that walker when she was cilmbing the fence In Season 1 and then she completely elbows him In the nose and doesn't even apologize after? And then Travis tells him to calm down, like?? What?? If I had just damn near almost gotten my nose broken just for trying to help, I would have been absolutely livid! And It would have pissed me off even more If someone else told me to just chill out right after

But Madison and Alicia really did the absolute most to make Chris out to be an asshole and a monster. Travis was highkey a shitty father too like you and I both stated. Literally the only person (In my opinion) that truly gave a shit about Chris other than his mother was Nick. Nick was the only one who jumped In after Chris after he jumped off of the boat (which no one questioned either?). He was the only one who checked up on him after the boat was raided and he was standing watch on Reed. He tried to make Chris feel better about not killing Reed's whole group when they first came onto the boat. He talked Chris out of killing Reed too early. The first thing he does when he sees Travis again In Season 3 Is ask about Chris. And, quite frankly, he was the ONLY one who showed genuine emotion when Travis told him that Chris was dead. Like, the look on his face Is just pure heartbreak. And then no one even utters Chris’ name again after he's killed off and after Travis follows almost Immediately after. But It truly pisses me off that there wasn't more done with those two In particular. Both Nick & Chris were the outcasts In their respective families. Nick was able to talk to Chris more because he knew how It felt to be the odd one out. To be the one that everyone thought was gonna snap and break at some point. Nick could relate to him because of those specific aspects. Had they had more scenes together, I really think that they could have been friends. It would have been so Interesting to see their dynamic In Seasons 3 & 4 before Nick Is killed off as well, which also makes me Incredibly angry as well.

Oh, and I still stand by the fact that Travis didn't deserve to get that closure by killing Brandon and Derek. Like, he literally let Chris leave to begin with when he KNEW that those two grown ass men were being sketchy as fuck around his sixteen year old son and, once again, didn't even try to follow them after they left so he could get Chris back. I could literally go on and on about how much the characters around Chris (besides Nick) just piss me tf off