#think i got all the important tags in there let me know if not

[dat-town]

p.s. but i like you

Characters: Taesan & female reader

Setting & genre: to all the boys i’ve loved before au; she fell first, he fell harder; fluff, comedy

Summary: When your love letters are sent out to your ex-crushes and you spend your last break before university trying to get them back, the last thing you expect is your neighbour tagging along.

Alternatively; you write love letters when you’re ready to move on from an all-consuming crush. There are four in total: Kim Donghyun from science camp in middle school, Park Sunghee’s older brother who tutored you once, Lee Chanyoung from the holiday resort last summer and Han Dongmin, the boy next door.

Warnings: MC is a bit chaotic, a bit of jealousy

Words: 10.3k

Author’s note: shoutout to the anonie who told me that the she fell first, he fell harder trope would fit Taesan because that’s so true. i hope i did it justice!

Letting your mother help you declutter your room before moving to Seoul for university was a big mistake. You realize it the moment you open your desk’s bottom drawer only to find it perfectly organized, colorful pens and highlighters in one corner, cute stationery in the other with stacks of important documents in the back, very unlike the usual mess you had in this exact drawer, the one you use to keep little trinkets like movie tickets and your old diary with lock and key you have been too embarrassed to throw out in fears of somebody finding it. You quickly scan the contents of the drawer, check all the others too, half-relieved when you find the diary with its lock secured but it doesn’t dissipate your nerves entirely.

“Mom...” You walk up to her where she’s currently sorting your clothes by color after you’ve already separated them by season. “Have you seen the envelopes in my drawer?”

“The letters? Ah, yes. I had to pick up a package from the post office today anyways, so I mailed them for you,” your mother says matter-of-factly, not noticing the way you’re biting your lower lip nervously.

“What?” You shriek, louder than you intended, in pure panic.

“Well, except for Dongmin’s, of course. I gave his to his mother,” she continues as if it was a light-hearted chit-chat, unaware of the storm clouds collecting over your head because she’s too focused on deciding whether to put your beige or cream colored sweater on top. “What’s with them by the way? Is it one of those letter chains we used to do when you were younger?”

“No. No, no, no,” you throw yourself onto your bed and scream into your pillow when you realize she’s totally serious. She found those simple white, addressed envelopes on the bottom of your drawer and took them thinking you just never got around to send them.

However, those letters were not meant to be sent. Ever.

The thing is: you write a love letter whenever you’re ready to move on from an all-consuming crush. So they are rather goodbye letters, your closure after spending days, weeks imagining your life with just another boy before realizing that it wouldn’t work out anyways. Not that you ever do anything about your crushes and you prefer it this way. In your head you can make up all these little scenarios about holding hands, amusement park dates, watching the stars together because at the end of the day you’re a hopeless romantic. You can giggle about seeing your crush smile from far away without the disappointment getting to know them could possibly bring. You have seen enough of your friends get rejected or dumped, so nah, you don’t plan to ‘put yourself out there’ anytime soon. Especially now that high school ended and you got your acceptance letter from your dream university in Seoul and you’re so ready to leave Gwangju behind.

But now the letters are out and it ruins all your plans of a peaceful winter break.

You’re knocking on the Han family’s door as if the building was burning down, tapping your house slippers against the corridor’s floor because you couldn’t be bothered to waste more time by putting on proper shoes and outerwear just to walk one door down.

You’re still going with the momentum and almost hit Dongmin’s lovely mother in the chest when she opens the door for you but you manage to scramble backwards and try to regain your composure by forcing a polite smile on your face.

“Good evening, Mrs. Han. Is Dongmin home?” You ask tentatively, hoping, praying that she would say no, so you could ask for your letter back from her by making up some excuse. Your smile almost falls though when the woman nods and looks behind her shoulder.

“Dongmin! Y/N’s here for you,” she shouts down the hall before turning towards you with a kind smile and ushering you inside like she has always done ever since your family moved in next door when you were fifteen. “What are you waiting for? Come in.”

You mutter out a quiet thank you and awkwardly wave when you see Dongmin’s younger siblings in front of the tv in the living room but no sign of the boy.

“He must have his headphones on like usual. Just knock loudly on his door,” his mother clicks her tongue in disapproval and puts a bowl of sliced fruits in your hands before gently pushing you towards the bedrooms inside the apartment.

You gulp and follow her instructions but even if you haven’t been there before, you would know which door is Dongmin’s because it’s full with stickers of his favourite bands and there’s the unmistakable sound of guitar playing resonating through the door when you get close enough, the same sound you hear from your own room because you (unfortunately?) share a wall with the guy. You knock on the wood three times, loud enough for the music to stop and one and half inhales later it swings open, revealing the tall boy with tousled dark hair, wearing an oversized The Beatles tee and sweatpants.

It’s been a while since you have seen him from up close, so for a moment you’re rendered speechless and a wave of self-consciousness washes over you due to the state of your homey clothes and messy bun but then you remember that he has already seen you taking out the trash in you pajamas and with greasy hair as well as with the braces you had back in freshman year. Not to mention, you have a bigger, more embarrassing problem at hand than how you look.

“What?” Dongmin eventually speaks up, raising an eyebrow in question as he leans his side against the doorframe and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

Okay, if he doesn’t know what you’re here for nor he’s calling you out on your childish letter, he must not have read it yet, right?

“Uhm, did you perhaps get a letter today? From me?” You find your voice finally, albeit it’s more high-pitched than normally as you awkwardly choose your words to sound as vague as possible. Dongmin stares at you nonchalantly before reaching for somewhere behind his back and holds an envelope ‒ your letter! ‒ out for you.

“You mean this?”

“Yes, exactly! Can I have it back?” You get excited and relieved, reaching for the paper only for Dongmin to raise it higher, out of your reach. You pout as you pull your hand back and dare to look the boy in the eyes as you pose the question you’re afraid to hear the answer for. “Or… did you read it already?”

Dongmin looks at you impassively, eyes searching as if he’s trying to figure you and your intentions out. Then he shrugs.

“What? The part about my beautiful eyes or that I drive you crazy?” He asks with one corner of his mouth lifting cockily as he quotes your words and you are going to have to dig a grave for yourself. Especially because both statements are still very much true apparently.

“Shh!” You hiss and you don’t even know what comes over you when you push at his chest with enough force (and the element of surprise) to push him back inside his room and you slip in too, quickly closing the door behind you before his family could hear what you’re talking about.

A moment later you realize what exactly you have done and your eyes widen at your own brazen behaviour. Based on the confused, dumbfounded look on Dongmin’s face you managed to surprise him too.

“Uhm, your mom made this for you,” you clear your throat as you push the bowl of fruits into his hands and look anywhere but his face. Which in turn results in looking around in his room that’s very like him. Band posters on the wall, concert tickets half-filling a glass jar, a keyboard by the desk, CSAT preparation books on the shelf, clothes thrown on the bed…

“Look Y/N,” he starts, his voice deeper than you remembered. But again, when was the last time you had a proper conversation other than hellos when running into each other in the corridor? “About your letter. I'm flattered but…”

“Don’t be!” You cut him off before he could reject you. Even if it’s years late and you aren’t crushing on him anymore, it would hurt your feelings, so you would rather not hear it. “You’re not the only one. I’ve written four letters.”

“Damn, Y/N. Is this some kind of prank?” Dongmin furrows his brows. He looks like he can’t decide whether he should be amused or annoyed by the sudden turn of events. You’re not sure which would be worse.

“I wish it was. My mom mailed my deliberately unsent love letters,” you sigh, face buried in your hands while Han Dongmin has the audacity to let out a short laugh.

“So who are the others then?” He asks casually while sitting down at his desk chair, putting the fruit bowl next to his laptop. Then he turns to you and motions for you to sit down or whatever that vague hand movement is supposed to be but you’re too busy fiddling with your fingers while hovering by his door, half-ready to flee.

“Uhm, Kim Donghyun from a science camp back in middle school, Lee Chanyoung from a holiday resort we went to in Jeju last summer and Park Sunghee’s brother,” you list, counting each name on your fingers. You aren’t even sure why you’re telling him this. Maybe you just want to get this off your chest and it’s not like he would post about it on his social media for laughs. He rarely posts anything unrelated to his band anyways. Plus he doesn’t even know these guys…

“Park Sunghoon? Isn’t he too old for you?” Dongmin raises a brow and you want to smack yourself. Of course, he knows him, they went to the same all boys school. It’s the best high school in the neighbourhood after all.

“Yah! He’s just two years older than us,” you correct him, defensive.

“Whatever,” Dongmin shrugs. Then he eyes the envelope slipped under the fruit bowl and mortification washes through you again. You don’t even remember half the things you wrote but you certainly remember pointing out that you were sure his band’s popularity would get to his head and that’s why it was better for you to not like him anymore. You cringe at yourself because a year and half and a few dozen screaming girl fans later, Han Dongmin seems still as laid back as ever behind his Taesan persona. “So you came to take it back before I could read it?”

“Well, yeah,” you admit, not seeing a reason to lie. It’s not like this could get any more embarrassing. “Though honestly I wasn’t really thinking. I only noticed the letters missing literally ten minutes ago.”

Dongmin hums like he finds it interesting which is funny because most of the time he looks like he doesn’t give a damn about anything. Except when it comes to music. Shit, what if he’s thinking of turning this situation into a song? He should credit you for inspiration.

“And what are you planning now? Will you break down the other three guys’ doors too?” He asks and it’s teasing, taunting. You can tell he’s pretty much laughing at you behind his raised eyebrow and curious eyes.

To be real, you weren’t thinking that far ahead yet.

“How fast do you think the Korean postal service is?” You purse your lips.

“Wait. You don’t actually plan to steal the letters back from their mailbox, right?” Dongmin scoffs but you might be considering it, so your silence is enough of an answer. “Oh you do.”

“I don’t want them to read it,” you throw your hands in the air. Just thinking about it gives you a headache and anxiety. “It’s bad enough that you read yours and now everytime we will meet, I will overthink it because you know I used to have a crush on you but I’m still friends with Sunghee and it will be even more awkward if she gets to know I liked her brother. Gosh, I should have dated my letters. Now Donghyun will think I wrote it now and not when we were fourteen.”

The more you think about it, the worse the situation is. You shudder just thinking about how cringe your letters could be looking back. Especially the one you wrote at the prime time of middle school.

“You know, maybe instead of dating them, you should have not written down the addresses,” the boy across from you points out, oh so very helpful.

“Wow, good advice, thanks. I will keep that in mind next time,” you deadpan and decide that it’s been enough of an embarrassment for a lifetime in front of the neighbourhood’s resident cool boy. You need to come up with a plan on how to get the letter back from the Park family before they could open it or forward it to Sunghoon abroad. “Anyways, I’ll be going then. Can I, please, have my letter back?”

You hold out your hand, trying your best puppy eyes at the guy but Dongmin doesn’t budge.

“Nah. It’s my letter now.”

You scowl but after a few long moments of staring contest that has you hot in the cheeks, you let out a deep sigh. He has already read it, it doesn’t really matter anymore.

“Okay, bye then,” you roll your eyes and let yourself out of his room, bowing awkwardly to his mother when you pass by her and face plant yourself into your bed once you’re alone again. Stupid Han Dongmin and his amused crooked smile and pretty brown eyes. Why did he have to read it?

You plan to get back Sunghoon’s letter via Sunghee and it goes smoother than expected.

You text the girl asking about the letter and tell her not to open it or send it to her brother because it’s just a prank someone pulled on you. If Taesan gave you the idea, she doesn’t have to know nor about the white lie. It’s in the afternoon when Sunghee texts you that they just got the mail and you decide to meet up both to catch up and get the letter back. Like the sweetheart she is, Sunghee offers to throw it out but you don’t want to leave anything to chance, so you meet in a cute café, drink way too sweet winter lattes and talk about post-graduation plans.

You’re walking back to the apartment complex from the bus stop with your letter safely tucked inside your bag when you spot the unmistakably tall figure of your neighbour in the nearby park, playing football with his little brother. At least the younger boy wears a puffy coat, gloves and beanie all tucked in but Dongmin, who has always acted a bit like the street was his runway, wears jeans, a wool coat half open and only a long, fluffy scarf pulled up to half-cover his already reddened, cold-bitten ears, February cold be damned. He has his hands in his pocket as he lazily kicks the ball back to his brother but it passes him by. That’s when his eyes meet yours and you react a tad bit too late to convince him that you weren’t staring. Luckily, he doesn’t call you out.

“Mission success?” He yells over to you though and it’s so silly. Why does he even care?

“Yeah,” you nod anyway and you’re about to ask how come he’s not cold when his little brother tugs on his coat sleeve.

“Hyung, can we go back inside now? I'm freezing. Why did you even wante‒”

“Sure, back we go,” Dongmin cuts him off hurriedly and you pretend not to pay attention to their brotherly bickering. You’re surprised to hear that this time it was the older who insisted on playing outside because usually it’s the other way around based on what you have heard before but it doesn’t concern you, so you just follow the two boys, watching maybe a bit too fondly as Dongmin ruffles his brother’s hair when he takes off his beanie inside the building. On the second floor, the older boy steps to their door to key in the code and ushers (meaning: lightly push) his brother inside. Before you could do the same down the corridor, he turns to you after the closing beep of their door.

“So what’s next?”

Once again you’re taken aback that he seems so invested in the mess you've gotten yourself into but it’s not like you have anybody to tell about these things. Normally you would gossip about boy things with Sunghee but since she can’t know about her brother being concerned, you would rather keep it to yourself. Or well, since Dongmin’s asking…

“Well, Sunghee got the letter today on the other side of the town, so I’m assuming that Donghyun’s will arrive in Busan tomorrow. So…” You explain, running on the adrenalin of successfully getting back one of the letters.

“Wait, Busan?” Dongmin interrupts, furrowing his eyebrows, confused. Oh, right. You only told him about the science camp.

“Yeah, he lives there or at least used to, four years ago. So I’m thinking of catching an early bus tomorrow,” you tell him about the plan you made up during your way home from Sunghee. Taking an express bus is the fastest and cheapest way to get to Busan and make it a quick day trip. Even if the letter’s not there, you will just ask the person who lives in that house to mail it back to you when they get it. If you still have time to kill, maybe you can even go down to the beach to make it seem like you’re a sane person and you wouldn’t travel 3 hours back and forth just to get a letter back.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to look him up online?” Dongmin, the voice of reason as always, asks and you look at him unimpressed. Does he really think it didn’t cross your mind at all?

“I tried! He either has no social media presence or at least not with his real name,” you pout because seriously just how many Kim Donghyuns could there be for you to not find the one you’re looking for?

Your neighbour apparently didn’t run out of his questions though and you can see genuine, bewildered curiosity on his face when he asks:

“How do you even know his address still after four years?”

That’s a fair question (and you hate that all he asks are logical questions actually). Considering that you were fourteen when you wrote it, you should have long forgotten the exact address of your ex-crush but lucky for you, you have it written down in your dusty notebook under lock and key.

“Uhm, I might have it in my old diary. We were supposed to become pen pals after the camp but well, life happens,” you mutter, feeling a bit self-conscious admitting that yes, you are one of those girls who have written diaries. But Dongmin doesn’t judge, not for that.

“You mean, you never wrote to him,” he raises an eyebrow challengingly and it triggers a defensive reaction out of you.

“He never wrote to me either!”

“Well, good luck then, Miss Letter Thief,” he waves and slips inside their apartment before you could come up with a good retort and the way he always seems to have the last word makes you want to tackle him down in the old-fashioned kindergartener way just to shut him up. Jeez, good thing you got over him so long ago because he’s dancing on your nerves.

Even though your mother doesn’t try to hide the fact that she thinks you’re acting a bit too dramatic over ‘some letters’, she at least looks sheepish and doesn’t stop you when you tell her that you will go to Busan in the morning and come back in the evening. She even packs you snacks for the long bus ride and you throw a book into your bag as if you wouldn’t fall asleep ten minutes into the journey.

The Sun has been barely out when you leave the apartment, rubbing your palms together while you stand in the bus stop and wait for the local bus to take you to the terminal. A movement catches your eyes on the window next to yours but you think you just imagined it until the building’s door opens and Dongmin rushes out in his long coat that makes him even taller than he already is. You turn to him suspiciously when he stops a good two meters from you at the bus stop because what the hell he’s doing there at seven in the morning during winter break. You stop yourself from questioning him though because the bus pulls up in front of you soon enough and he sits behind you on the vehicle, so you don’t see where he gets off.

With upbeat music playing from your earbuds, you almost forget about him by the time you get to the bus terminal. Luckily the queue at the counter is not too long, so you manage to buy a ticket to Busan before the next one leaves. You barely get comfortable in your window seat when the aisle one next to you is taken even though there are plenty of available seats in the unreserved area due to the morning hour.

You look at the sudden occupant and your eyes widen in realization.

“What are you doing?” You shriek a little louder than what’s publicly acceptable, so you immediately apologize to the other, sleepy-looking travellers.

“What? Can’t a guy go to Busan to check out this one music store?” Dongmin shrugs nonchalantly and it’s your turn to raise an eyebrow at his nonsense answer. He really doesn’t seem like the spontaneous type but admittedly, you don’t know him that well. You didn’t have to know him to catch feelings after all.

If you wanted to be honest, a few encounters around the apartment building was enough to get interested in him, even more so when you got to know that he had a band and your crush became embarrassing when you dragged your friends to the local festival where the band performed. Even though their music style isn’t really your go-to genre, he just looked so cool on stage, really in his element, very unlike the usual distant demeanor he greeted you with around the house. Then Minah started dating their drummer and you saw the band on stage a few more times, getting to love their music more and more, hanging out sometimes as parts of a bigger friend group until that one party where you saw your school’s most popular girl throw herself at Dongmin. The taste of unreasonable jealousy was all it took to snap out of it and forget about the boy’s pretty eyes, beautiful voice and rare smiles you treasured. Minah and Wonjin broke up around the same time, so at least you had an excuse not to see him more than necessary around the house.

So yeah, you probably talked more with him in the last two days than ever before and he has certainly never acted like this around you. It was getting suspicious.

“Han Dongmin… are you coming with me to make sure I don’t go alone?” You question because you really don’t know what to make of it and you can’t help but let your voice take on a playful tone.

“Pff…” The boy snorts and then looks at you with his practiced deadpan face. “I’m going, so I can laugh at how you embarrass yourself in front of this Donghyun guy.”

You roll your eyes at him. He thinks he’s so funny, huh?

“For real, why are you tagging along?” You try to come off as at least a bit authoritative with your crossed arms and serious face but it probably doesn’t work. Dongmin answers anyway.

“Because I don’t have more exciting plans for the break and it’s fun enough,” he shrugs as he slides down in his seat a bit to get more comfortable with his height. He fixes the hoodie over his head and turns his head against the backrest, looking like he’s about to go to sleep after telling you that while there you are with a hand over your heart. 

“Are my love letters funny to you?” You gasp, dramatic on purpose but a part of you really wants to shove him outside of his seat (of course, you won’t do it, not now that you’re on the highway already).

“I mean it was pretty funny that you misspelled the word gorgeous twice in mine.”

He says it so matter-of-factly but you desperately wish that he’s just teasing or else it’s mortifying that you couldn’t spell that correctly when you were almost seventeen.

“I was nervous! And it’s a difficult word to spell!” You splutter.

Seriously, what’s it about him that makes you so defensive all the time? Especially when he’s nothing but casual about your old love letter? Or is it exactly because of that?

“Do I make you nervous?” Dongmin raises an eyebrow at you with an almost smile on his lips and for a moment you’re speechless because you can’t tell whether it’s supposed to be teasing or flirty.

“I was once young and naive,” you tell him, refusing to answer because if you wanted to be honest (you don’t), then yes, he makes you very nervous, especially when he holds eye contact so long that you have to look away and stare out of the window instead.

“If you say so,” he hums and you refuse to give him the satisfaction of answering. You turn the music back on in your app and try to nap a little.

Dongmin must have the same idea because when you look his way the next time he’s peacefully sleeping. You know you shouldn’t but you can’t help but take in every small mole on his face and the curl of his eyelashes. Gosh, how is it possible that he’s even more handsome now than before?

When he stirs, you quickly look away and fish out the sliced fruits and hotteoks your mom prepared, offering to share them but Dongmin dismisses it with a shake of his head.

“What’s the order of the letters?” He asks instead when your cheeks are puffed with the sweet food but you decide to entertain him anyway.

“Donghyun’s the first, obviously. It was a two week long camp and he was the cutest boy I had ever seen. I knew I would never see him again, so I wrote that letter when I got back home. Then I befriended Sunghee in high school and met Sunghoon when I was over at hers. I had one actual conversation with him and imagined our entire lives together until he graduated and went abroad. Then I wrote yours in second year and I met Chanyoung last summer over the vacation my family went to in Jeju,” you list them off and it seems to put the boy into thinking mode because he’s quiet for a short while, letting you eat in peace.

“You don’t get crushes when there’s an actual chance of dating them? You barely interacted with any of these guys,” he points out and then gestures between him and you. “We never really talked either before this and then you stopped liking me because I ‘got too popular’,” he adds drawing ditto marks in the air probably quoting from your letter which makes you wince quietly.

You might have written to him that you got over your crush on him when their band started getting more attention, claiming that arrogant rock stars aren't your type. You certainly didn’t go into details about how their song about liking a popular girl made you feel stupidly jealous, especially after seeing him with Yein.

“It’s safer like this,” you shrug, casting your eyes down. “I like the idea of romance, like in books and movies, but not the reality of it.”

Real romance is scary. Full of rejection, heartbreak and embarrassment.

It might be the songwriter in him but Dongmin sounds intrigued to say the least.

“So you don’t actually have real crushes. You like the version of the guys you make up in your head,” he says like you’re a puzzle to solve and he’s slowly figuring you out. You don’t know how to feel about that.

“The way you say it sounds bad but… aren’t all crushes like that? You don’t have to know the person to like them,” you say and it’s funny because you never really thought about your feelings this way. But it’s true that even if you have had your fair share of crushes, none of them were very deep. You would never admit it to him but actually your ‘Dongmin phase’ was the longest but you can’t be sure whether it’s because he has been a permanent fixture in your life unlike the other boys or something else.

“I don’t know. To me, that’s just attraction. You can like them for who they are only when you get to know them,” he says and he sounds like he did think about it before.

“You don’t believe in love at first sight, huh?”

“Yeah, no,” Dongmin shakes his head and pops a piece of grape into his mouth from your snack box. You scoff but hold it closer to him and the rest of the ride is spent in relative silence interrupted by occasional short conversations.

This is how you get to know that the boy has been in Busan before with his family, so you pretty much let him lead when you get to the bus terminal in the coastal city because you’re not the best with direction. Dongmin has to stop you by holding on to your scarf when you almost get on the subway in the wrong direction and teases you about how you will get around in Seoul like that. You shrug, not worrying about it much since you will have enough time to learn getting around in a big city like the capital.

For now, you’re navigating through Busan on this impromptu day trip and you’re kind of glad you are not doing this alone. Not just because you would have most likely gotten lost a few times but because Donghyun’s address is almost an hour more away from the bus terminal and time flies faster while you talk with Dongmin. It’s nothing special, just your likes and dislikes, high school drama, sibling anecdotes and such but you find yourself smiling and laughing more often than not. When your shoulders brush at an abrupt stop of the subway car, you pull away shyly and something stirs in your chest, something familiar and almost forgotten.

By the time you get to the address written in your cute pink diary, you almost forget about the main reason why you’re here. You can’t decide whether fate is on your side or not when you manage to bump into a vaguely familiar figure on the ground floor of the building with a very much familiar letter in his hand among others.

“Donghyun!” You shriek in realization, resisting the urge to yank the letter out of his hand. He definitely grew up, almost as tall as Dongmin behind you, hair longer, covering his ears but his eyes are the same.

“Uhm… sorry, do we know each other?” He furrows his eyebrows, visibly confused. Dongmin tries to cover his snort-like laugh with a cough behind you which really doesn’t help with your embarrassment.

“Oh, I’m Y/N. From science camp four years ago,” you introduce yourself a tad bit awkwardly but luckily that’s all it takes for the boy to recognize you because his face brightens.

“Oh, hey! What are you doing here? Came to check out the Sealife Aquarium?” He asks, almost excited, and you find it cute that he didn’t lose his childhood fascination with such things.

“Uhm, actually I came for that,” you point at the mail in his hands which leaves the boy confused once again.

“Our electricity bill?”

“No, dude, the prank letter you just got with her name on it,” Dongmin speaks up from behind you and you can tell just from his voice alone that he’s rolling his eyes. But it gets Donghyun to check out the envelopes in his hand and nonchalantly gives you the one addressed to him from you, like he doesn’t even care what’s in it. But when you actually take it, he leans in closer.

“You’ve got a scary boyfriend,” he whispers just as casually, so only you could hear it and you can only splutter in shock while he pulls back and jogs up the stairs with the other letters in hand.

“Thanks,” you clear your throat as you turn to Dongmin who looks as nonchalant as ever.

“For what?”

“For not telling him that it’s a love letter,” you explain, which makes the boy shrug. He opens the door for you and points towards the metro station.

“I’m choosing lunch then,” he says and you laugh at his logic, but follow him anyway. He still asks if you’re okay with Korean food and since you’re not picky, you let him choose whatever he craves.

You end up at a jjigae place, the warmth of boiling spicy soup filling you up and you blame the heat in your cheeks on it, definitely not in the casual way Dongmin serves you water or opens the hot rice bowl for you as if it’s nothing.

“So only Jeju’s left,” he comments between two spoonfuls of kimchi jjigae. Looking at you from across the table, he almost challenges you: “Tell me you’re not seriously considering flying there.”

“I mean there’s also a ferry…” You make a thinking face just for the sake of it but laugh at your own ridiculous idea and the face Dongmin makes. “Okay, okay, I know. He probably received the letter already anyway.”

You shrug casually and the boy seems surprised and maybe a bit impressed too. Getting back two letters out of four is actually a better ratio than you expected and you care surprisingly less about Chanyoung receiving his now. What’s the worst thing that can happen? Nothing much. Like Dongmin got his own and he doesn’t act weird about it. At least he certainly doesn’t avoid you or looks at you as if you were crazy like you would have thought so. He’s actually quite… kind about it. Without the letter you surely wouldn’t have spent this much time with him nor would he have joined you on this spontaneous day trip either. Speaking of which…

“Do you actually have a music store you want to check out here? We have time, so we might as well look for it,” you say, eyes on your food, blowing on the soup to make sure you don’t burn your tongue. When your suggestion is followed by silence, you look up self-consciously and fidget with a stand of hair hanging in your face. The look of surprise is clearly written on the boy’s face but when your eyes meet, he recovers quickly, shoving the rice sitting on his spoon into his mouth before taking out his phone and showing you the Instagram page of this cool store he found. You drop down your gaze from his face to his phone, feeling heat creeping into your cheeks once again as both of you lean forward over the table.

Luckily, in the winter cold outside it doesn’t stand out. Dongmin’s nose, cheeks and ears also redden by the time you make it to the music store by the sea. You look over the vinyl collection with him, asking about his favorites, inspirations and such, and while you don’t know half the bands he mentions listening to him talk has something special in it. It’s actually cute how enthusiastic he gets as he talks about music, like sure he’s all cool and nonchalant but still, you can tell he’s excited beneath that facade and…

Wait. Did you just call Han Dongmin, cool, mysterious, plays in a band neighbour, cute?

But how can you not when he walks out of that store with a new LP and a happy smile he tries to suppress when you look his way or when he’s like oh, yeah, sure, let’s go down the beach and there he is shivering from the wind like a rain-soaked black cat because he’s too cool to wear gloves even if he has ice americano in his hands unlike your hot hazelnut latte that’s warming your body and soul or the way he tries to secretly take pictures of you with your wind-blown hair in your face, laughing when you chase him down the waterfront or how he hesitates to accept the hot pack from you on your way back to the bus terminal but immediately switches places with you when a car passes by you a bit scarily close. It’s a totally new side of him that you’re discovering and you aren’t sure how to feel about it, about realizing that he isn’t the kind of guy you imagined him to be.

He’s so much more and so much better.

On your way back to Gwangju, he steals one of your earbuds and makes a comment on your music taste and you bicker about that half the journey but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Your cheeks almost hurt from laughing so much when you notice new notifications on your phone and the device almost falls out of your hands.

chnyng_lee started following you. chnyng_lee hi yn! i got your letter…

“Oh my god!” You whisper-yell when you see the beginning of the message received, then quickly cover your mouth with your hand and pull the phone to your chest as if not seeing it would make it go away.

“What?” Dongmin asks with worry evident in his voice but you’re swimming too deep in embarrassment to detect it.

“Chanyoung just texted me,” you explain, still in shock and the moment it leaves your mouth, something shifts in the air. The previous light atmosphere turns heavier.

“Ah, Jeju boy?” Dongmin mutters, force nonchalance draped over his words as he turns to look ahead before silence settles on you both.

You take three long, deep breaths before unlocking your phone and opening the app to read through Chanyoung’s message properly. He’s so sweet, just how you remembered, telling you that of course he remembers you and he doesn’t think that your first meeting with you falling into the pool and him having to pull you out was awkward. He says it’s cute that you wrote to him even though you got over your crush and asks about your winter break. A sweetheart, really.

You find yourself chuckling fondly over his shy reactions and coo when he tells you about the group of elementary students he taught swimming that day. You want to show the video he sent to Dongmin too but he’s fast asleep next to you, so you spend the rest of the ride chatting with the cute boy who saved you back in Jeju.

Dongmin is quiet on the local bus too after you transfer in Gwangju but when you ask about it, he says he’s just tired, so you leave him be until you reach the apartment complex.

“Thanks for coming with me today. I… had fun,” you admit, more bashful than you would have liked to but the guy’s back to his distanced attitude, so he doesn’t even tease you about it.

“Sure, no problem,” he shrugs, seemingly eager to leave and you don't know why it bothers you so much but after everything that happened that day it’s his sudden change in behaviour that keeps you awake at night.

You wouldn’t say Dongmin avoids you. It’s more like things go back to normal. You have spent the last few years rarely running into him, so really, it shouldn’t annoy you. Still, whenever you leave the house, you find yourself looking for him and whenever you’re in your room you wait to hear his music through the thin wall between your rooms. 

It’s a random weekday evening when you run into him as you take out the recycled trash and he’s just coming inside the building.  It’s awkward, both the silence and the small talk idea but eventually it’s him who breaks the silence as he holds the door open for you:

“So how are things going with loverboy?” 

“Who?” You blink at him in surprise before realizing that he must be referring to Chanyoung with that weird nickname. “Oh, good. We’re thinking of meeting up in Seoul. He’s going there to uni as well.”

It’s actually crazy that in about a week you will be in the busy center of Seoul, getting ready for orientation week and trying not to get overwhelmed by everything that university life throws your way. You’re about to ask Dongmin when he will move to his dorm but before you could do so, he just hums and passes you by.

You refuse to think too much into it nor you allow yourself to mourn the closeness you unexpectedly found with the boy for it to turn out to be merely a fleeting experience. You cannot miss him suddenly, that’s ridiculous.

You can’t be desperate enough to wish it’s him knocking on the door two days later, can you?

“Uhm, hi!” You smile a tad bit awkwardly while looking down at Dongmin’s little brother standing on your doormat wearing a Kakao Friends Ryan patterned tee and a determined look on his face.

“Noona, can you please talk with hyung?” He asks and when he mentions his brother you can’t help but glance towards their closed door, chest heavy with unsaid feelings.

“Uhm, why?” You question curiously but keep your tone light and friendly, so the boy would know you aren’t dismissing his request, you just find it strange and unexpected. You aren’t that close to Dongmin after all.

“He listens to a lot of sad and angry music,” the boy sighs as if it was the world’s biggest problem and you have to fight a chuckle at how cute it is that he’s worried about his brother because of the music he listens to.

“Isn’t that normal for him though?” You find yourself asking because you do hear music through the wall between the two apartments from time to time and describing some of it as ‘sad and angry’ wouldn’t be far from the truth.

“Yeah, but even more than usual,” the little boy pouts and sighs again, all the world’s weight on his young shoulders. “And he says you can’t come over because you’re busy with your boyfriend.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you frown, confused where Dongmin got that from. Does he think that you texting with Chanyoung automatically meant you got yourself a boyfriend? Did he miss the fact that the letter for him was also written after getting over your crush on him? Oh come on, he knows you had four crushes over four years and never got a boyfriend, so what makes him think two days changed it all? And even if you had a boyfriend, what’s it to him unless… Wait, is he jealous?

“Then can you come over to play? We need four players,” Dongmin’s brother voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you let yourself be roped into a game of charades in their living room.

Needless to say your ex-crush is taken aback to see you there but he apparently doesn’t have the heart to say no to his siblings when it comes to playing a game. You pair up with his little sister who is seriously the cutest with her pigtails and excitement but her drawings are more postmodern than anything exhibited in galleries and you can’t for the life of you figure those out. Dongmin and his brother are a good team though but the eldest always makes sure that their little sister doesn’t feel bad about being on the losing team which in turn obviously means that he teases you about it instead. You still have a lot of fun though, so when you leave once it’s bedtime for the younger ones, you are giddy and high on sugar from Dongmin’s mom’s heavenly chocolate pudding.

“Sorry that my brother dragged you over,” Dongmin apologises once their entrance door closes behind him and you two stand in the corridor. You didn’t expect him to come after you despite his mother’s obvious suggestions because come on, you literally live next door, you don’t need him to walk you home. But you don't mind it because unlike your last encounter, he doesn’t seem to have his guards up making him much more approachable. Even if there’s nothing more to it, it would be nice to be friends with him, not just neighbours who pass each other by.

“No problem, it was fun,” you reassure him with a smile and don’t let the silence settle on your duo for too long. “Maybe we should make it a tradition in Seoul too, ask Chanyoung and Yoonah to join us.”

There’s definitely intent behind your words as you gawk at the guy’s reaction like a nature photographer waiting for something to happen in the wild and you can clearly see a bit of frustration blended with confusion on his face before he schools his expression back into cool nonchalance.

“Who’s Yoonah?” He asks predictably which makes your smile wider because being able to guess his reaction is almost like you know him.

“Chanyoung’s girlfriend! Didn’t I tell you? She’s so cool,” you chirp and pull up your Instagram app to show him a lovely picture of the two. Dongmin acts like he doesn’t care but he doesn’t stop you and somehow the air between you feels much lighter.

You tell him what you know about the couple’s plans in Seoul and somehow, in the middle of it all, you end up sitting on the cold concrete stairs right between your two homes and talk about the upcoming changes in your lives. You share how weird it feels to leave behind Gwangju, the only place you have really known in your life for an unknown city where you don’t know anybody. Sure, some of your classmates also move to the capital but none of your close friends, so it feels a bit like a fresh start which is both scary and exciting. He’s in similar shoes except that he has always had dreams of moving to a bigger, busier city, so he can’t wait to start his life in Seoul.

“As expected of Han Taesan. Fearless as always,” you note with a smile playing on your lips without thinking and you don’t even notice your slip-up until Dongmin points it out.

“You called me Taesan,” he says, his dark eyes wide and surprised.

“Ah right. Was I not supposed to?” You ask sheepishly because you have heard most of his friends call him Taesan as well as girls in your school who knew his band.

“No, it’s just…” The boy trails off, ruffling his hair, avoiding your eyes. “In your letter you said it’s cringe that I took up a nickname when we started the band.”

You wince audibly when he once again reminds you of a part of that infamous letter you don’t even remember and now you’re mature enough to admit that part of it was written out of petty jealousy due to his skyrocketing popularity among girls.

“I wrote that a long time ago. I got used to Taesan since,” you explain, drumming your fingers on your knee pads just to do something with them while the boy nods and seemingly contemplates your words. He sounds almost shy as he admits:

“I like it when you call me Dongmin.”

And if your breath hitches at that, it goes unheard by everybody but you because your upper level neighbour chooses that moment to arrive and complain about the two of you ‘barricading’ the entire staircase. Amidst polite apologies you say goodbye to each other and in the safety of your room, only one wall away from Dongmin, you can admit to yourself that maybe you’re not that over your crush on him as you thought.

Realizing that you still (or well again) have a crush on the boy next door doesn’t make things easier for you. Especially because in less than a week both of you are set to go to Seoul for different universities and if living next door with your schools across each other you managed to not interact all too much over these years, you fear being in the same city won’t make it easier to run into the enigma that is Han Dongmin.

It’s different this time though because you’re friends. Kind of. You text sometimes about random things like a black cat in the snow video that reminds you of him while he sends you music recs ‘to educate you on good taste’. You are over at his place every other day to play board games with him and his siblings or play snow fights in the newly fallen snow.

Like right now, when the two of you sit on one of the swing sets at the playground watching the two kids trying to build a snowman that will melt by tomorrow. It’s cold, you feel it sweep into your bones as your gloved hands hold the metal chain of the swing, barely swaying in place. It’s comfortable, sharing silence with Dongmin by your side but you like it better when he speaks, when he talks to you, when he looks at you which he doesn’t do, not now, not since he chased you down with a handful of snow only to drop it when you slipped and he caught you. Which eventually left you just chilling on the swings before either of you breaks a bone a few days before the semester starts.

“What are you doing tomorrow evening?” Dongmin speaks up in his usual, casual tone, the tone that’s passive enough for you to think that he doesn’t really care about the answer but you know it better now, it’s all just a facade.

“Nothing much, maybe watch a movie. Why?” You lean forward, holding your weight by the chains to be able to look at him even if he doesn’t turn your way.

“Would you like to come to the band’s last gig?” He asks eventually and your eyes widen, heartbeat starting to act up for no reason at all.

“Yeah, of course!” You answer, not even hesitating but you have to ask: “Last though?”

“Well, for now. We will be pretty scattered around the country once the semester starts,” Dongmin explains to your tentative question. You don’t even know how much of a relief it is until you hear it because somehow it’s hard to imagine him without music, without his band.

“Ah, okay, that’s good.”

Now that makes Dongmin look at you, all intrigued as if asking what’s it to you and it makes you flustered because heck now you have to explain yourself.

“It’s just… you’re good. You shouldn’t give up on music, especially when you like it so much,” you say, looking away, sitting back on the swing, kicking the ground a bit to give yourself momentum.

“Not worried anymore that I would become an arrogant all too popular rockstar?” The boy asks in a clearly teasing tone.

You sigh exaggeratedly and nudge him in the side but he just laughs. Of course he would use your letter against you, but for some reason it doesn’t bother you that much anymore and no, you’re not worried about that either. You’re more worried about moving to Seoul and drifting apart, losing the closeness you have now. Maybe that’s why he isn’t saying anything more either, that’s why you don’t address his unreasonable jealousy over Chanyoung or all those late night talks, the lingering looks and diverting glances. It’s not just a crush anymore, you’re one confession away from making it real because for the first time since you developed all those crushes you feel like it’s worth the risk. Dongmin is worth the risk of getting your heart broken.

The next morning Dongmin texts you to let you know that they will have a last minute practice with the band, so he just sends you the location of the local art café they will perform at on Naver Maps. You answer with a bit too excited ‘see you there!!’ which you immediately regret until he sends a heart reaction to the message. It has you squealing even when you see the icon turn into a simple like and he claims that his fingers slipped. Just to tease him, you tap a like on that message.  

You definitely make a bigger deal out of choosing an outfit for the gig than you probably should. You even ask for Sunghee’s opinion over a video call and in a weak moment of yours, you ask her to go with you but she just snorts and tells you that she doesn’t want to be stuck as the awkward third wheel when you eventually leave with ‘your neighbour boy’. You protest because why would you leave with him? But at the same time you kind of wish that you would. You live next to each other, wouldn’t it make sense? Are you too hopeful?

Scratch that! You’re young once and you swore to yourself that you won’t let insecurity or fears hold you back this time. You’re allowed to be a bit delulu sometimes.

You get to the café just in time for the performance to start. You’re still terrible with directions when it comes to new places but you calculated with that beforehand, so it’s all good. You order a dalgona latte, sweet on your teeth and warm in your hands, and settle down at a table close to the cozy winter-decorated stage where the band does last minute tuning and setup checks. You look around and see a few familiar faces from your school as well as some guys from Dongmin’s rare Instagram stories. They all cheer when the lead singer introduces the band and they start with an upbeat, alternative rock-style song. He might not sing the most but your eyes are glued to Dongmin behind the keyboard, at the way he is bobbing his head to the beat or the way he smirks when the audience reacts to certain parts, clearly enjoying it all and that’s what matters the most to you. They perform quite a few songs and you enjoy it thoroughly, regretting a bit that you stopped listening to their new stuff in the middle of second year, thinking it would be easier to move on from your crush like that. And look at how that turned out.

You have so much fun watching Dongmin perform that you aren’t even disappointed that you don’t get your own ‘Y/N moment’ by locking eyes with him through the crowd mid-song. At least not until it’s his turn to introduce the upcoming song after all the other members have already spoken between sets. 

“The last song we have for today is a new one. It’s called Just you and me and it’s a bit unpolished but I wanted to perform it tonight,” he says into the microphone propped above his keyboard and glances at you right when the audience starts clapping. You’re pinned to place by his gaze and can’t look away, not even after he does, not when he grabs the microphone and starts singing.

The song is not heavily instrumental, there’s only a soft guitar layer and a simple beat of drums from the chorus, but it stands out because Dongmin sings the whole thing and its lyrics are much sweeter than their usual songs. It sounds like a confession, echoing your own heartbeat.

When it ends, the band says thanks for all the support and drops their social media info, so fans can follow their journey along even when they are not active in Gwangju anymore. Some people, probably friends and family, go up to them to chat while they pack their instruments. You contemplate whether you should say hi to Dongmin or wait it out but you don’t have to worry about that for long because he soon comes to find you by your table.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you beam at him brightly despite the nervous butterflies in your stomach. “You were great up there. I loved the new song a lot.”

“That’s good,” he hums, looking just a bit shy with his downcast eyes and boxy smile, so different from the usual confidence he exudes on stage or when he’s teasing you.

Maybe that’s where the sudden courage comes from, the urge that prompts you to ask:

“Was it… a love song?”

Your tone is tentative, not too pushy, not too hopeful, but Dongmin’s gaze finds yours, earnest but amused, very much like him.

“Maybe. Somebody said she likes movie-like romance,” he shrugs, his smile turning smug when he notices the blush painting your cheeks. This time, you can’t blame it on the cold.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dongmin confirms and clears his throat, clearly out of his element a bit. “Are you heading home now? Cause if you wait a bit, we can go together.” 

You nod shyly and send him off to pack and say goodbye to his friends. Before you know it, you’re on your way back, talking about the band’s future plans, places he already knows he wants to check out in Seoul, how your dad plans to take you to move into the dorms by car and your mother is already emotional about it. You don’t talk about love songs and confessions, the possibility of a future together. However, you don’t want to say goodbye tonight without acknowledging your feelings out loud.

Dongmin unexpectedly beats you to it though. Once you’re in the corridor of the apartment building, he calls your name, reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a wrinkled envelope, handing it over to you. You see your name scribbled on the paper and for a moment you’re taken aback because you expected his handwriting to be almost unreadable, rushed and messy but it’s so spacey between characters that it’s cute, especially if he made the effort to make it readable for you.

“To make it fair that I have your letter,” he shrugs oh so casually and scratches his nape. “Just… don’t read it in front of me.”

“You just sang a love song in front of a crowd,” you remind him of his previous bravado which makes him groan in protest and you get it now why he likes it so much, teasing you.

“It’s different!”

“Okay, I will read it when I’m alone,” you promise, holding the envelope to your chest, a part of you wanting to run into your home so you could read it as soon as possible, another part not wanting to part from the boy. But curiosity is killing you. “Bye then?”

You turn, ready to head inside but before you could change your mind and let overthinking ruin your sudden bravery, you turn back to face Dongmin and pushing yourself to your tiptoes, you peck him on the cheek.

“Kiss like we do, huh?” You ask playfully, quoting a bit of his new song and dash inside your family home before Dongmin could react or see how red you get.

If his letter is unlike what you expect it to be, you will probably dig yourself a hole in the playground and hide forever for this but you let yourself hope as you hold your breath and unfold the paper in the safety of your room.

Dear Y/N,

I can’t write sappy letters like you but I can try because you like this stuff. Romantic gestures or whatever.

I know it’s late, that it’s been almost two years since you liked me but I still want to get this off my chest. I don’t know what would have happened if you confessed in our second year because I didn’t really know you. I didn’t know how you ramble when you’re nervous or that you have this cute habit of brushing your hair out of your eyes even if it isn’t there or that you have the prettiest laugh. You’re a bit crazy because who writes love letters complimenting my gorgeous (that’s how you spell it by the way) eyes at the same time as accusing me of becoming arrogant? Who travels to the other side of the country just to get their love letter back? Who stays over playing charades with my siblings on a random weekday?

Half the time you don’t make any sense and ever since you showed up at my door asking for your letter back, you’re driving me crazy.

Sincerely, Dongmin

P.S. But I like you (if it wasn’t clear)

You squeal. Loud enough for the boy to hear through the thin wall between you. He has the audacity to laugh which makes you grab your phone.

you: don’t laugh!! you: btw i like you too! you: again you: still you: if it wasn’t clear dongmin: so unromantic you: ??? dongmin: write me a letter back you: on it! you: ♥️

[novaursa]

A Lion's Folly (the honest)

- Summary: A story where a lion falls for the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, you.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Jaime Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: what may come

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @butterflygxril @lordofthunderthr @mrsnms @itisjustwhatitis @urdxrling @meowmeowmothermeower

The grand halls of Casterly Rock bustled with quiet efficiency as servants moved swiftly, setting the final touches for the upcoming wedding. The air was thick with the scent of fresh-cut roses, imported from the Reach, their crimson petals arranged meticulously along the golden-lined tables in the Great Hall. Candles were being placed in towering candelabras, their flames soon to illuminate the grandest feast the Westerlands had seen in years.

Jaime walked through the preparations with Bronn at his side, the sellsword looking entirely unimpressed by the extravagance.

"Remind me again why I have to be here?" Bronn drawled, arms crossed as his gaze flicked from the pristine gilded goblets being arranged to the heavy velvet banners that draped the walls. "I’m not the one getting married to a Stark.”

Jaime scoffed, running his fingers over the golden lion crest embedded into the nearest banquet table. "Because if I have to suffer through this, I see no reason why you shouldn’t."

Bronn smirked. "You’re in a right foul mood for a groom. Aren’t grooms supposed to be excited? Joyous? Dreaming about the wedding night and all that?"

Jaime shot him a glare. "Would you keep your voice down?"

Bronn chuckled, adjusting the belt at his waist. "Come now, Kingslayer. Are you telling me you’re not looking forward to it? Your blushing bride, draped in silk, waiting for you in—"

"If you wish to keep that tongue, I suggest you bite it," Jaime interrupted, his patience wearing thin.

Bronn raised his hands in mock surrender. "Touchy, touchy. Fine, let’s talk about something else—like how much bloody coin they’re spending on this farce."

Jaime’s eyes flicked toward the towering cake being constructed in one corner of the hall, layers of honeyed sponge and sugared fruit arranged so decadently it looked like something out of a song. Tywin had spared no expense, and it was clear that this wedding wasn’t just about sealing a political alliance—it was about displaying Lannister power to the entire realm.

"It’s excessive," Jaime admitted, his voice low. "Even for my father."

Bronn snorted. "Now that is saying something."

Jaime sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It’s all for show. The banners, the food, the music, the guests. Tywin doesn’t just want a wedding. He wants a spectacle. A reminder to every lord and lady in Westeros that a Lannister does not bow, does not break. That even the Starks, once his greatest enemies, are now bound to him."

Bronn exhaled, glancing around before lowering his voice. "And does the Stark girl know she’s just another jewel in his golden crown?"

Jaime clenched his jaw, his gaze drifting toward the high table where he and you would sit the next night. "She knows," he said quietly.

Bronn studied him for a moment before shaking his head. "You’ve got it bad."

Jaime turned toward him, brows furrowed. "What?"

Bronn smirked. "The way you talk about her. The way you keep looking for her in every room. You’re starting to care, Jaime."

Jaime scoffed. "I don’t—"

"Oh, save it," Bronn cut him off, waving a hand. "You might not admit it, but I see it plain as day. If this was just duty to you, you wouldn’t be brooding about it. But no, you’re actually thinking about how she feels. And that, my friend, is dangerous."

Jaime exhaled slowly, his hands tightening into fists. "It doesn’t matter how I feel. This is happening, whether either of us wants it or not."

Bronn studied him, then chuckled. "You know what I think? I think you’re more worried about what happens after the wedding than the wedding itself."

Jaime turned away, his golden hand pressing against the edge of the banquet table. He didn’t answer.

Because Bronn was right.

It wasn’t the vows, the feast, or even the spectacle that troubled him.

It was the uncertainty of what came next.

Would you ever accept this union? Would you ever forgive him for all that had been taken from you? For all the pain his family had caused yours?

And, more unsettling than all of that, why did he care so much about the answer?

Bronn clapped him on the shoulder, snapping him from his thoughts. "Well, good luck with that. I’ll be drinking through the whole thing, if you need me."

Jaime rolled his eyes. "Of course you will."

As the final preparations continued, Jaime lingered for a moment longer, staring at the grand hall before him.

Tomorrow, everything would change.

For better or worse.

The corridors of Casterly Rock were eerily quiet as Jaime made his way toward your chambers. The great fortress, usually filled with the sounds of servants and courtiers, felt heavier tonight, as if it, too, was bracing for what was to come. He had spent the day overseeing the final preparations for the wedding, had endured Bronn’s mocking, Tywin’s scrutiny, and the suffocating weight of expectation.

Yet, despite it all, he found himself here.

He had told himself it was only to ensure that you were prepared for tomorrow, that he was fulfilling his duty as your betrothed. But deep down, he knew better. He had been thinking about you all day, about the way you had been so quiet since their arrival, the way your sharp retorts had lessened, the way you had withdrawn more and more into yourself.

He knocked lightly before stepping inside, finding you standing near the window, your arms wrapped around yourself as you gazed out over the darkened sea. You didn’t turn at his entrance, but he could see the tension in your shoulders, the way your fingers dug into the fabric of your sleeves.

“You’ll be my wife tomorrow,” Jaime said lightly, trying to inject a bit of humor into his tone as he closed the door behind him. “Are you ready to wear Lannister colors at last?”

You exhaled, but it wasn’t a laugh. It was something closer to resignation.

Jaime frowned, stepping closer. “Y/N?”

Still, you didn’t look at him. “It feels real now,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jaime stopped just behind you, close enough to see the way your hair moved slightly with each breath you took. “It was always real,” he said quietly.

Finally, you turned to face him, and what he saw in your eyes struck something deep within him. Fear. You were afraid. Not of him, not in the way others feared him—but of tomorrow, of what it truly meant to be bound to his house, to his family, to him.

Jaime’s hand twitched at his side before he reached out, hesitantly brushing his fingers against your arm. You didn’t pull away.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice softer than he intended. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

You let out a hollow laugh. “Don’t I?”

Jaime swallowed, his grip on your arm tightening just slightly. “I won’t hurt you.”

Your eyes flickered with something unreadable, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to lean into his touch—just slightly, just enough for Jaime to feel the warmth of you against his fingertips. It was the closest you had ever allowed him to be.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Jaime’s golden hand rested at his side, useless, while his other hand remained against your arm. “Neither do I.”

Your lips parted slightly, surprised by his honesty, by the rare vulnerability he was offering you. The walls between you cracked, if only for a moment.

Jaime took a deep breath. “I know you didn’t choose this,” he said slowly. “And I know that you still hate me for it.”

You said nothing, but the silence was enough.

He forced a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But if there’s one thing I can promise you, it’s that I’ll never force anything upon you. Not now. Not tomorrow. Not ever.”

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed. “Why?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jaime exhaled, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

The space between you felt charged, different than before. The firelight flickered in your eyes, reflecting something fragile, something uncertain. And then, slowly, you reached out, your fingers brushing lightly against his.

Jaime’s breath hitched. This was more than he had ever hoped for. The warmth of your touch, however hesitant, sent something shattering through him.

And then it happened.

Something inside him snapped.

He shouldn’t tell you. He knew he shouldn’t. But as he looked at you—your fear, your uncertainty, the fragile way you had let your guard down just for him—he couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his fingers tightening around yours.

You looked up at him, searching his face. “What is it?”

Jaime inhaled sharply. “Your brother.”

Your expression shifted instantly, your body tensing. “What about him?”

Jaime clenched his jaw. “He’s riding into a trap.”

The words hung between you, heavy and undeniable.

Your breath caught, your fingers going rigid in his grasp. “What?”

Jaime exhaled shakily, bracing himself for what was to come. “Roose. My father. They’ve already made their move. The North is going to fall, Y/N. Robb will—” He stopped himself, but you heard the unspoken words.

Your face drained of color, and suddenly, you ripped your hand from his grasp. “No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, you’re lying.”

Jaime’s chest tightened, his throat dry. “I wish I were.”

Your hands clenched into fists, your breath coming faster, ragged. “Why are you telling me this now? Why—why didn’t you say anything before?”

Jaime swallowed hard. “Because I didn’t know how.”

Your expression twisted with anguish, betrayal, fury. “How long have you known?”

Jaime hesitated, but you saw the truth in his eyes before he even spoke.

“Since the night we arrived.”

Your lips parted in shock. “Since—we’ve been here for days!”

Jaime stepped forward, but you recoiled.

“Y/N—”

“No!” Your voice cracked, your hands trembling. “You—you knew. And you said nothing.”

Jaime’s own chest ached at the look on your face. “I wanted to tell you. I did. But—”

“But what?” You spat, your voice shaking. “It would mean betraying your father? It would mean choosing between being a good son or doing what’s right?”

Jaime couldn’t answer. Because you were right.

Tears welled in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “He’s going to die,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. “And you let it happen.”

Jaime’s throat tightened painfully. “I didn’t want this.”

Your eyes burned into his. “But you let it happen.”

Jaime had faced battle, had stood before kings, had endured the weight of his family’s expectations for his entire life.

But nothing had ever hurt quite like this.

He opened his mouth, desperate to say something, anything—but you turned away from him, your shoulders shaking as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

Jaime stepped forward again, hesitated—then sighed.

“Y/N,” he murmured.

“Get out.”

Jaime closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose. Then, with a heavy heart, he turned and left.

The door shut behind him, but your quiet, broken sobs echoed in his mind long after he was gone.

The night air was thick with something unnamed, the silence of Casterly Rock disturbed only by the distant crash of waves against the cliffs below. Within the courtyard, the pale silver form of Winter lay stretched across the cold stone floor of the makeshift kennel they had forced upon him. His blue eyes were open, glimmering faintly in the moonlight, his ears twitching at every distant sound.

Jaime had fought to let him roam free, but Kevan had been firm. A wolf does not belong within the Rock. They had caged him, kept him away from you. And now, he was restless.

A low growl rumbled in his chest, his thick tail twitching against the stone. He could feel it—something was wrong. His instincts clawed at him, his senses razor-sharp, his unease growing by the second.

And then, it happened.

A sudden clamor of hurried footsteps echoed from the northern walls. Raised voices, the loud ring of steel, and then—shouts.

She is running.

Winter surged up, his massive form slamming against the bars, snarling as the sounds of pursuit filled the air. His hackles rose, lips peeling back over gleaming teeth as he let out a deep, reverberating snarl.

Beyond the courtyard, torches flared to life as guards swarmed the outer halls of the castle.

“She’s escaping!”

“Find her! Now!”

Winter’s claws scraped against the stone as he pushed against the confines of his cage, his entire body tense with rage. He knew whose scent they were following. He knew who they were chasing.

And there was nothing he could do.

Outside the castle walls, your breath burned in your lungs as you sprinted through the winding paths leading toward the cliffs. The cold night air whipped against your face, your heart pounding violently against your ribs. Your boots kicked up loose gravel as you ran, the distant lights of Lannisport glittering below like a cruel promise of freedom.

But you weren’t free. Not yet.

Shouts rang out behind you, the clatter of armor growing closer.

“There! She’s heading for the lower paths!”

You gritted your teeth, forcing yourself to move faster. You had spent hours planning this, studying the guards’ rotations, waiting for the right moment. You knew the layout of Casterly Rock by now—knew which paths were less guarded, which tunnels could lead you down toward the port where you might be able to stow away.

But they were faster than you had expected.

You veered left, pushing through a narrow passage between jagged rocks, ignoring the sting of stone scraping against your arms. Your muscles screamed in protest, but you couldn’t stop. You wouldn’t stop.

Then—

A shadow moved ahead of you.

Too fast.

Bronn.

You barely had time to react before his arm shot out, grabbing you by the waist and spinning you around. You fought, kicking, twisting, but he was stronger, his grip like iron.

"Seven hells, girl," he grunted, wrestling against you. "You really thought you’d make it far, didn’t you?"

You hissed, slamming your elbow into his ribs. He grunted but didn’t let go. “Let me go!”

“Can’t do that, I’m afraid,” he said, voice strained as he struggled to keep hold of you. “You’ve got a wedding tomorrow. Thought you might want to be well-rested for it.”

You thrashed against him, your breathing ragged, your body twisting with everything you had. “You bastard!”

Bronn sighed. “Look, I get it. Really, I do. But you running through the night like this? That’s just stupid.”

You growled, trying to reach for the small dagger tucked into your belt, but Bronn was quicker. He grabbed your wrist, twisting just enough to make you drop it.

“You little hellcat,” he muttered, exasperated. “If you weren’t worth so much, I’d almost be impressed.”

More guards arrived, torches lighting up the narrow path.

One of them stepped forward, panting slightly. “Shall we take her to Lord Kevan?”

Bronn shook his head. “No. Send for Jaime.”

The guard hesitated. “Lord Jaime?”

Bronn’s grip on you didn’t loosen, but his voice was firm. “Now.”

The guards exchanged glances before nodding, one of them turning to rush back toward the keep.

You were still breathing hard, your pulse a frantic drum against your throat. The realization sank in, bitter and cold.

You had failed.

Bronn sighed again, looking down at you. “You really thought you were gonna get away from here, didn’t you?”

You refused to answer, glaring at him with all the fury you could muster.

Bronn smirked. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

And so you stood there, surrounded by armed men, waiting for Jaime to arrive.

Jaime was pulled from restless sleep by the heavy pounding on his chamber doors. His mind was sluggish for only a moment before years of battle instincts kicked in, and he was out of bed in an instant. He barely had time to fasten his cloak over his nightshirt before the doors swung open, revealing one of the Lannister guards, breathless and wide-eyed.

“My lord, it’s Lady Y/N—she tried to escape.”

Jaime’s blood turned cold. “Where?”

“The cliffs below the keep. Ser Bronn caught her.”

Jaime didn’t wait for another word. He shoved past the guard and strode through the halls, his steps quickening as he made his way outside. The castle was alive with commotion now—guards murmuring, servants watching from the safety of doorways, their gazes flitting toward the path leading down to the lower courtyard.

When Jaime finally reached the scene, his chest tightened at the sight before him.

You stood there, struggling in Bronn’s grip, your hair wild from the night air, your cloak half undone as if you had barely fastened it in your rush to escape. Your face was flushed, streaked with dirt and sweat, and your eyes—your furious, broken eyes—met his the moment he stepped forward.

"Let her go," Jaime ordered, his voice sharp as steel.

Bronn hesitated for only a moment before sighing and loosening his grip. You stumbled slightly but regained your footing quickly, breathing hard, your fists clenched at your sides.

Jaime took a cautious step forward. “Are you hurt?”

Your head snapped up, fury blazing through your grief. “Don’t you dare ask me that.”

Jaime exhaled through his nose, running his left hand through his hair. “Y/N, what were you thinking?”

“I have to go,” you said quickly, desperately, taking a step forward as if you expected him to let you pass. “I have to warn Robb—he doesn’t know, Jaime. He doesn’t know what’s coming.”

Pain twisted in his chest at the sound of his name from your lips, laced with such raw emotion. But he shook his head. “I can’t let you go.”

You froze, your breath hitching. “You can’t or you won’t?”

Jaime clenched his jaw, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. “It’s the same thing.”

You shoke your head violently. “No. No, it isn’t. You promised me, Jaime. You swore you would protect him.” Your voice cracked on the last word, your body trembling from exhaustion, from anger, from grief.

“I know,” Jaime murmured, and gods, he meant it. He knew what this meant to you. He knew what he was taking from you.

“Then let me go,” you pleaded, your voice breaking entirely now. “Please, Jaime. Please.”

Jaime swallowed hard, looking at you—truly looking at you. Your eyes were brimming with tears, your shoulders shaking, your chest rising and falling with frantic, uneven breaths. He had seen you defiant. He had seen you furious. He had even seen you vulnerable. But this—this was something else.

This was heartbreak.

This was loss before it had even arrived.

Jaime took a step closer, reaching out without thinking, his fingers brushing against your arm. “If I let you go,” he said softly, “you will die.”

You let out a choked, broken sound, your whole body recoiling. “Then let me.”

Jaime’s breath caught, something deep and unmovable twisting inside him. He stepped forward fully now, reaching for you, grasping your arm before you could slip away.

You struggled. Gods, you fought—thrashing against him, your fists beating weakly against his chest, your voice a raw sob of protest. “You lied to me, Jaime! You lied! You said—you said you would—” Your words crumbled into incoherence, grief consuming them before they could be fully formed.

Jaime held on, his grip firm but gentle, letting you rail against him, letting you sob into his chest, letting you fall apart in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his chin resting against your hair. “I’m so sorry.”

But no apology would be enough. No words would take this away.

The guards shifted uncomfortably, some averting their gazes. Even Bronn—who had seen death and war and betrayal a hundred times over—seemed momentarily out of place, his usual sharp tongue silenced by the rawness of what lay before him.

And still, Jaime held you, feeling every tremor in your body, every shattered breath.

In this moment, he wished he had never been born a Lannister.

He wished he could undo something.

But he couldn’t.

And so, he simply held on.

The walk back to your chambers was silent.

Jaime kept his grip on you firm but not forceful, his fingers wrapped around your wrist as he guided you through the cold, empty halls of Casterly Rock. Your body had stopped trembling, the sobs had quieted, but the silence was worse.

You had given up.

You didn’t try to break free. You didn’t fight him. You just walked beside him, unseeing, unfeeling, your gaze fixed on some distant point only you could see.

Jaime hated it.

He had seen you burn with fury, had watched you stand against men twice your size with nothing but your will and your tongue to protect you. He had watched you defy kings and lords alike, had heard the bite in your voice when you swore to see your family safe.

But now?

Now you were hollow.

And it was his fault.

As they turned a corner, Kevan Lannister emerged from an adjoining hall, his expression carefully neutral as his gaze flickered from Jaime to you, then back again. He exhaled sharply, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“So, she tried to run,” he said simply.

Jaime’s grip on your wrist tightened slightly, a silent warning for Kevan to hold his tongue. “It’s been handled.”

Kevan studied you for a long moment. “Has it?”

Jaime’s jaw clenched. “She won’t try again.”

Kevan hummed in acknowledgment, but his gaze lingered on you. “She’s a Stark,” he murmured. “And a wolf will always try to escape its cage.”

Jaime stiffened. He knew it was true, but hearing it aloud made something twist inside him.

Kevan sighed, stepping aside. “Your father will hear of this.”

Jaime averted his gaze, leading you past his uncle without another word.

When you finally reached your chambers, Jaime pushed open the doors, guiding you inside before closing them behind him.

The room was as it had been—grand, lavish, a place fit for the Lady of Casterly Rock. But to you, it might as well have been a prison cell.

You moved like a ghost, stepping further inside without a word, your arms wrapping around yourself. You didn’t turn to look at him. You didn’t speak.

Jaime lingered by the door, watching you, struggling with what to say.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

You laughed softly, but it was empty, bitter. “You keep saying that.”

Jaime sighed, stepping closer. “Because I mean it.”

You turned then, your eyes red-rimmed, your expression unreadable. “Then do something about it.”

Jaime when numb.

He wanted to. Gods, he wanted to.

But he couldn’t.

And you knew that.

Your eyes flickered with something—anger, despair, something raw and unguarded. Then, just as quickly, you turned away again.

Jaime felt something snap inside him again.

Before he could stop himself, before he could think, he closed the distance between you in three quick strides, his hand reaching for your arm.

You turned, startled, lips parting just as his mouth crashed against yours.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t planned. It was a desperate, reckless thing—filled with all the words he couldn’t say, all the things he wished he could change.

For a moment, you didn’t respond. You were frozen, caught between the weight of everything that had just happened and the shocking warmth of his lips against yours.

Then, slowly, your hands came up, pressing against his chest.

Jaime’s grip on you tightened.

He didn’t know what he was doing.

All he knew was that he needed to reach you.

To feel something other than the hollow ache in his chest.

To give you something—anything—to hold onto.

And for the briefest moment, you let him.

Your lips moved against his, hesitant, unsure. Your fingers curled slightly against his tunic, not pushing him away, but not pulling him closer either.

It was enough.

It was everything.

Then, as quickly as it started, you broke away.

Jaime’s breath was heavy, his forehead nearly resting against yours, his hands still holding you as if letting go would shatter whatever fragile thing had just passed between you.

Your voice was barely a whisper. “I can’t.”

Jaime swallowed, his heart hammering.

Neither could he.

But that didn’t stop him from wanting to.

Slowly, reluctantly, he released you, stepping back just enough to give you space.

You looked at him, truly looked at him, and for a moment, there was something in your eyes that he couldn’t name.

Then, softly, you whispered, “Goodnight, Jaime.”

Jaime closed his eyes for a brief moment before nodding.

And then, without another word, he left.

The door shut behind him, but his heart remained in that room with you.

The halls of Casterly Rock felt suffocating. The air, thick with the scent of burning wax and old stone, seemed to press down on Jaime’s shoulders as he walked aimlessly through the dimly lit corridors. He had no destination, no purpose—only the weight of your words still lingering in his chest.

I can’t.

He ran a hand through his hair as he descended a flight of stairs that led out into the open-air courtyard. The night air was cool against his skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that still clung to him from your touch.

Jaime clenched his jaw, trying to push the memory of the kiss from his mind. It had been a mistake. A moment of weakness. A desperate attempt to reach something that was never his to begin with.

But gods, he couldn’t shake the way you had felt against him.

He wandered past the stone pathways leading toward the gardens, his footsteps echoing faintly in the quiet night. He had hoped the solitude would clear his head, but the turmoil within him only deepened.

Then, a familiar voice cut through the silence.

“Well, well. That’s one way to spend the rest of night before your wedding.”

Jaime sighed heavily, turning to find Bronn leaning lazily against a low wall, arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

The sellsword pushed off the stone, sauntering toward Jaime with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be getting your beauty sleep, or what's left of it? Big day tomorrow, after all.”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “Not in the mood, Bronn.”

Bronn raised an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

Jaime exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking up at the night sky. “I just needed some air.”

Bronn snorted. “Air, is it? That what we’re calling it now?”

Jaime shot him a glare. “Don’t start.”

Bronn grinned, stepping closer. “Oh, I am starting. Because you look like a man who just had his guts ripped out and is trying very hard to pretend he didn’t feel a thing.”

Jaime clenched his jaw, saying nothing.

Bronn studied him for a moment before his smirk deepened. “You told her, didn’t you?”

Jaime’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. “Told her what?”

Bronn rolled his eyes. “Oh, don’t play stupid with me. You told her about the boy, didn’t you? About what your father and Bolton have planned.”

Jaime exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping to the stone beneath his feet. “I didn’t mean to.”

Bronn let out a low whistle. “Hells. You really have it bad.”

Jaime snapped his head up. “Shut up, Bronn.”

Bronn only grinned wider. “You know, for all the time I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look this—what’s the word? Lost.”

Jaime’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “I am not lost.”

Bronn shrugged. “Then what are you?”

Jaime opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Bronn chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s what I thought.”

Jaime exhaled sharply, turning away, staring out toward the distant sea. “She was going to run.”

Bronn leaned against the wall again. “I figured that when she tried to stab me.”

“She begged me to let her go.”

Bronn’s smirk faded slightly. “I was there. I heared. And you didn’t.”

Jaime let out a humorless chuckle. “Of course I didn’t.”

Bronn tilted his head. “And that’s what’s eating at you, isn’t it? Because for the first time in your life, you actually want to do the right thing, but you don’t know how.”

Jaime’s jaw clenched.

Bronn sighed, straightening up. “Look, I’m not one for sentiment, but I’ll tell you this—if you’re waiting for the perfect moment to choose between your father and her, it’s never going to come.”

Jaime glanced at him warily. “And what do you suggest?”

Bronn grinned. “I suggest you figure out exactly what you’re willing to lose, and then make your choice before it’s made for you.”

Jaime scoffed, shaking his head. “You sound like a bloody maester.”

Bronn clapped a hand on Jaime’s shoulder. “Yeah, well, even a sellsword knows when a man’s about to walk straight into a battlefield with no armor.”

Jaime shoke his head, but Bronn was already turning away.

“Get some rest, Kingslayer,” Bronn called over his shoulder. “You’ve got a wedding to survive.”

Jaime stood there for a long time after Bronn had gone, the weight of his words sinking deep into his bones.

Figure out what you’re willing to lose.

Jaime already knew the answer.

The problem was, he didn’t know if he had the strength to do anything about it.

[imma-soft-beeboy]

Got any headcanons about the Starscream and his trine?

☆Let's be honest Starscream is a drama queen, I mean just look at him. And the Trine is his groupies

☆It's like discount Heather's out here (I hope someone out there has made a Candy Store Animatic with Screamer + Trine)

☆He made his own Mean Girls group & if you're not a part of it you don't know their secrets (Tuesday nights are for secret swapping & if anyone has loose lips they will be straight murked)

☆In all seriousness though, I think he's really close with his trine. He uses them to talk his thoughts & feelings out. Every idea is vetted by them.

☆Now they're not always helpful... so of course he has to lightly bully them a bit but in Starscreams mind that's just how friends work

☆Legit I don't think Starscream is capable of being "chill" with his friends. He's always the one with drama, hefty opinions, and egocentrics

☆The rest of the Trine (Skywarp & Thundercracker) are just happy to be involved in something/feel important

☆The Trine in Starscreams eyes is mostly there to build him & his ideas up. But to Skywarp & Thundercracker it's like a super exclusive club/brotherhood.

☆They'll defend each other till the end; even Starscream as catty as he is will step in to defend the other two (until it risks him getting hurt)

☆I like to imagine that they have "girls nights" often where they will share secrets, Starscreams shares his newest take over scheme & they do some self care (like buffing each other or something)

☆They are for sure one of those groups who go around slapping each others asses. Everyone on the Decepticon warship is so sick of it but they know they can't stop the Trine so they let it happen.

☆They have an entire point system based on strength, situation & complexity for it

☆Starscream always wins & the other two just wish they were as cool/crafty/cruel as him

☆All together its very clear to the other Cons that their group is tight-knit & exclusive. Not a Seeker? You're not getting in. They help each other & always plan something kinds fun (even if Starscream monologs at them over it)

☆And even though Starscream thinks they are his minions/echo chamber he still has a weird soft spot for them (they may be idiots but they are his idiots you feel me???)

☆Constructicons & other groups wish they were as cool as the Trine. They envy the Trines closeness & exclusiveness.

☆Megatron may find Starscream annoying/meddlesome but with the Trine he's bearable so Megatron let's them do their thing as long as it doesn't ruin his plans (that's how they've gotten as far as they have)

☆Because of this fact that's how they are able to get away with public butt tag or inside jokes (unlike other con factions)

☆In short, the Trine is a distraction for Starscream and its working so Megatron let them be for now

☆As a prank I fully believe they changed colors for the day the confuse people (except Starscream made them change back early cause he hates not being himself)

☆I always believe they'll sometimes mouth the words the one of the others are saying (don't ask how it's just a talent they have) to confuse other Con as a prank too

A/N: Sorry if this is short, wrote this on my lunch break. Hope you enjoy tho. :)

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

[yuanwang]

save me asian ocs.. save me...

[peridots-pixiwolf]

[Start ID. A digital drawing of Minos Prime from Ultrakill, who's wearing a strapless slit dress and sandals of the same deep purple. He faces towards and slightly to the right of the camera, his head is tilted further right. With one hand he gestures in a vague pointing motion, his arm folded and held close to his body. There is nothing in the background, but bracing himself on one arm, Minos is implied to be leaning against something about the height of a countertop. The background is a blank purplish black, save for three diagonal stripes in the colors of the bisexual flag. End ID]

Shading study that quite literally came to me in a dream two weeks ago, after this post apparently beamed itself into my mind

(also a few edits below the cut! they're very slight but whatever :])

[Start ID. Three different versions of the previous drawing. The first changes the tone of the lighting from blue to pink, and similarly the shading from pink to blue. The second replaces the faint black border with pink, purple and blue, syncing with the stripes in the background. The third combines both these changes. End ID]

[graceful-not]

Yk what actually. I'm sick of staying quiet Conya is a perfectly fine ship. I don't understand why people dislike it so much. In early Ninjago? Sure, back then it wasn't the greatest dynamic and didn't really have much in terms of actually substantive interactions. But people are still casually hating on it and putting it on DNI lists right next to ships like Greenflame like they're comparable and I'm sickkkk of it it's been YEARS!! Their dynamic has grown so much since then!!!! They're on the same level as Braincell for me in terms of ships I really like I think they have a great and interesting dynamic!!!! They're cute together!!!!!! EVEN OUTSIDE OF MUDSHOCK!!!!! RAGHH!!!!!!!!!

[wholesomepostarchive]

the most wholesome thing is seeing that the wholesome post blog runner is probably one of the nicest people ever :3 i’m generally Terrified of sending asks especially to a blog that Does Things like this but seeing you talk in the tags instead of just reblogging and moving on makes you seem very friendly and approachable !!!! and i hope u know i appreciate that :] i hope you have a wonderful day and both sides of your pillow are always cool and that if you see a random cat on the sidewalk it won’t run away from U ♡

woah, META-WHOLESOME!! thank ya for the compliment, i try my best to carry out those kinds of traits i value!!!!! i’m SUPER super glad that ya did!!! THANK YOU THANK U!! always appreciating how much of an impact this lil blog has on top of appreciating u for sharing as much with me :-)

it’s always a TRIP getting to hear that something i do that i wasn’t even really mindfully doing makes all the difference?? i’m just really, REALLY grateful for all the different kinds of posts that get sent my way and seeing cool + uplifting + sentimental + OVERALL WHOLESOME posts that i express my thanks + ramble a bit in the tags haha !!

i ALSO hope you have as terrific of a day as you’re able to! and i hope you’ll enjoy seeing more posts pop up!

AND YOU’LL NEVER BELIEVE but i got new pillow cases like a week ago THAT DO JUST THAT! AND THERE’S A NEW CAT ON THE STREET WHO HANGS OUT WITH ME SOMETIMES (i’ve been planning to see if he has a microchip, but i know for a fact that the neighbors who feed all the stray cats on our street already have a cage + are well-versed in TNR, so i’ve been thinking about asking them first because the thought that someone could be out there looking for their pal is enough for me to “do it scared”) !! SO THANK U NOT ONLY FOR THE SWEET SENTIMENTS BUT ALSO FOR THE UNEXPECTED HILARITY OVER THE FACT THAT THEY’VE COME TRUE???

[dallonwrites]

the first chapter of lover boy is really intense on an emotional level because So Many Things happen in quick succession it's like beau barely gets a chance to breathe and process it. meanwhile RR opening chapter is just felix and dorothy arguing in a laundromat.

[iniziare]

Tag drop: Seele (Honkai: Star Rail). Listen, I used to write her and I miss her a bit, and also: there's Belobog people around. And also, well, she's much more interesting than people give her credit for. Also, prepare for some 'rewriting', because Belobog's pacing in specific ways kind of blew a little bit much.

[ratstuckinamarble]

@lulughoul my ship may have been sunk but I'm sinking with it. If anyone wants to pay me a visit you can find me at the bottom of the ocean.

...I am already getting overtaken by marine organisms.

[kavehayati]

I wish I could inject pasilyo into my brain so I can have permanent happiness

[mizi-sua]

honkai part 2 has the chance to be either the best thing ever or the worst shit you've ever seen. nothing in between. so until we have more info, I'm excited but also SCARED

[lesbianpegbar]

What are your thoughts on season 2 so far??? I’m still a bit worried about lg… but idc about that BECAUSE QIAO LING!!!!! WITH THE STEEL POLE!!!

yeah <3

[malcriada]

Help save Bilal's family!

i want to talk about my friend Bilal @bilal-salah0. for over a year now, Bilal has been living in germany, trying to adjust to his new living situation in a foreign country, learning a new language and working full time. 

when the war started, he was far away from home and his family and has been living in daily fear for their lives ever since. 

being forced to work long hours and promoting his family’s fundraiser at the same time, he has taken on more responsibility than anyone ever should. still, he managed to raise money for their evacuation fund and helped take care of his family’s daily needs with the money he was making while working. 

in a cruel twist of fate, all of this got taken away in an instant. he lost his job and his apartment and even his residence permit. which means he is at danger of deportation from germany that could happen as soon as next week!

i have been in daily contact with Bilal for a while now and connected him with some of my friends in germany. together, we are trying our utmost to make sure he can stay in the country. anyone who knows german bureaucracy knows what kind of hell it is. but we won't give up.

without his job, he was forced to dip into the money of his family’s evacuation fund to cover their daily expenses like food and shelter. this meant he had to raise his goal from €70,000 to €100,000. this was not an easy decision for him to make, he even asked for my advice on whether or not to do it, because he did not want anyone to think he was scamming people. 

even in such a desperate situation, Bilal does not want to be seen as someone who would ever take advantage of people's generosity

his family is comprised of 18 members, 10 of them are adults and 8 are children under 16 years old, some of them newborns who were born amidst the chaos of war and displacement.

currently, he is sitting at:

€71,817 / €100,000

donations have been slowing down ever since he reached his original goal. i cannot stress how important it is that they pick back up!

WE ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME! HE NEEDS TO REACH HIS GOAL BY AUGUST 15TH!

THAT MEANS HE HAS TO RAISE NEARLY 30K IN THE NEXT TEN DAYS. THIS CANT WAIT.

his campaign has been verified and can be found on @/el-shab-hussein’s and @/nabulsi’s list of vetted fundraisers here (#132, line 136) so PLEASE don't hesitate to share and donate.

With such a tight deadline, i cant do this on my own. So i implore you to PLEASE share this wherever you can– on your whatsapp groups, on your discord servers, please share his story on other platforms wherever you have reach! Please share his story wherever you can, so that we can ease this burden from his shoulders.

[ID: a gfm link with a picture of two small children sitting in the sand in front of a cooking pot. they are looking up a the camera, eyes half-closed. the title reads "Donate to Help Evacuate My Family from Gaza to Safety, organized by Bilal salah" End ID]

tagging for reach under the cut, please let me know if you'd like to be removed:

@meaganfoster @briarhips @dirhwangdaseul @mahoushojoe

@schoolhater @pcktknife @sawasawako

@feluka @terroristiraqis @irhabiya @commissions4aid-international @wellwaterhysteria

@deepspaceboytoy @post-brahminism @khanger @kibumkim @neechees

@mangocheesecakes @kyra45-helping-others @7bitter @tortiefrancis

@toiletpotato @fromjannah @vague-humanoid @criptochecca

@aristotels @komsomolka @xinakwans @heritageposts @nibeul

@ot3 @amygdalae @ankle-beez @communistchilchuck @dykesbat

@watermotif @stuckinapril @mavigator @lacecap @yugiohz

@socalgal @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @northgazaupdates2

@vakarians-babe @wayneradiotv

@psychotic-gerard @mavigator @communistkenobi @socalgal @chilewithcarnage

@ghelgheli @determinate-negation @papasmoke @omegaversereloaded

@xinakwans @givemearmstopraywith @loombreaking @killy @deathlonging

@palms-upturned @blackpearlblast @littlegermanboy @loveaankilaq @sar-soor

@fridgebride @27-moons @tamarrud @familyabolisher @fleshdyk3

@decolonize-solidarity @palipunk @gothhabiba

[cy-cyborg]

Free Manual Wheelchair Reference Models

ID: A banner with grey 3D models of 5 kinds of manual wheelchairs in a line in front of the disability pride flag and text that reads "Manual Wheelchair References" /End ID

For disability pride month, I decided to release a pack of 3D manual wheelchair models.

The pack includes 5 wheelchairs:

2 Active urban-style chairs (one of which includes a smart drive)

1 off-road active chair

1 children's wheelchair

and 1 standard "hospital" wheelchair).

All the wheelchairs are based off either wheelchairs I or friends of mine have used

Downloadable here!

or on the Clip Studio Paint Asset Store (ID 2097442) (there's been an issue with the CSP version, but the models in the download folder can be imported into clip studio paint until I can fix it)

More info about the download contents below:

The first download link includes the original .Blend file with all 5 chairs, as well as individual .obj or .fbx files the chairs (All but 1 have an .obj file, as they're only meshes. The chair with the smart drive is rigged, which is why it has an .Fbx file instead so it will retain that information) as well as a "read me" file that explains in more depth what kind of disability/character/lifestyle each chair is made for (These are just what I had in mind when I designed them, they are usable by other characters who don't fit the suggestions for the most part!) I wanted to include the Read Me contents in the CSP Asset Store listing, but CS said it was too long lol.

Also, as the title says, these files are free to use! While it's not mandatory, I would appreciate credit if you use them (or even just a tag so I can see the cool art you make with them!!)

I actually made these ages ago, the original plan was to use them in a series of posts then release the pack, but I never got around to making the series and so they've just been sitting here. I took a day off from art fight attacks to clean them all up and get them ready to post. If you experience any issues, let me know and I'll try to fix it up.

I had a couple more that were supposed to be in the pack including a sports (basketball/Tennis) wheelchair and some different styles of wheelchair, but I think the files corrupted so once I fix (or remake) them, I'll probably make a second pack.

If you have any issues, please let me know!