#do han defense squad

[heretherebedork]

This entire scene is agony because half of it is about the truth (Do Han being gay) and half of it is a lie (Do Han 'tricking' A Jeong into marrying him) and the rest is about Ji Han's own pain that he's never faced or expressed because his coping skills suck.

Ji Han knows Do Han is gay now but he still doesn't know that A Jeong knows he's gay and so he's taking out this anger on Do Han about A Jeong's love not knowing it's entirely fake and that's the hardest part about this fight scene because the fight isn't about what it's about, it's about something that isn't actually happening but appears to be happening.

See, the problem with this fight and the framing of it is that Ji Han is mostly angry because he thinks Do Han is lying to A Jeong who loves him. That's why he's so pissed and why Do Han can be framed as the villain in this moment.

Because this is about Ji Han and A Jeong.

But the truth is that Do Han isn't doing any of the things Ji Han accuses him of in most of the argument besides being the closet which isn't what Ji Han is truly angry about to an extent.

I deeply appreciate that Do Han got to punch first despite his own guilt and issues because this man has spent most of his life hiding himself even from the brother he loves and now, the first time anyone in his life finds out he's gay, he gets called the Worst Person Imaginable. Sigh.

Do Han was also young when their mother died so I'm not sure what he was going to tell Ji Han about where he was living or where Ji Han was living. I don't think Do Han had any control over that.

I admit, I bet he ran to New York without telling anyone. I accept that. Do Han is absolutely a coward when it comes to telling people things he expects to be judged for and so he does tend to just... not tell them. We've seen that a lot in the show. Do Han's fear of what other people will think is real.

And this where the knowledge of the viewer informs us of how wrong Ji Han is in his assumptions but also allows it to make sense that Ji Han would think the worst of that and the worst of everything in this moment.

But, honestly, a lot of this is Ji Han putting his own trauma out in the air. He's got so many issues and he's never faced a single one and Do Han's own secrets have left this space between them that Ji Han tried to fill with pushing him to gain power and trying to find reason to involve Do Han more because he never knew why Do Han was distant... and now that he knows he's gonna go ahead and assume the worst because that's all he's got.

Poor Do Han lived in a minefield that Ji Han will never understand and will never try to understand because Do Han's minefield is something so specific and so painful and he had to leave behind so, so much. And he didn't choose that, unlike Ji Han choosing to go for the power and the family connections.

(Also, I need a scene at some point where Do Han tells Ji Han their mother's death isn't his fault just because I don't think Do Han ever believed it was his fault.)

And this is where the whole thing comes back to Ji Han's love for A Jeong and the fact that the viewer knows that A Jeong knows but Ji Han doesn't and that he won't because A Jeong isn't going to out Do Han and neither is Ji Han and so this misunderstanding is going to continue and get worse when Ji Han and A Jeong's romance becomes more public and Do Han is forced to face the press, his own fears and their actual romance and the fact that he does love them both.

Honestly, Ji Han, you fell in love with A Jeong before you knew any of this so maybe take a look in the mirror.

Oh the heartbreak and the fear and the pain and the way Do Han only knows part of the truth as well and this is just gonna hurt. How does he handle this? How does anyone? And then the fall out of everything, the fact that Ji Han and A Jeong are starting a romance while he's still supposed to be marrying her and if he doesn't marry her will end with another woman his grandfather chooses and forced to either lie or out himself?

All the anxiety he had finally escaped in his contract with A Jeong has come back with a vengeance.

Bonus gif: Do Han's collapse broke my heart.

#wedding impossible #kdrama #korean drama #in defense of Do Han #Do Han defense squad #i adore him and i will defend him to death

[yourstormthlaylirahh]

What is wrong with the straights ffs? I just saw Wedding Impossible described as a 'cheesy feel good show.' Babes, the show consistently punishes Do Han for being gay, he is treated as a punching bag by both narrative and characters for being closeted and then for coming out, and is constantly denied understanding and love by the other characters and apparently by most of the audience. Feel good for who? Fuck off

#wedding impossible #do han defense squad #im fucking fuming #fuck this show #and fuck everyone who cannot accept the humanity of queers fictional or real #i hate this

[jungle-angel]

First Halloween (Fanboy x Reader)

“Alright little man,” Mickey said to the wriggling little three month old laying on your bed. “You are gonna look so cute in your Halloween costume.” 

Antonio wriggled and gurgled as Mickey zipped him into his Halloween costume, his chubby little arms flailing and poor Mickey struggling to get him in. “Sheesh, eres impaciente, hombrecito.”

The baby laughed a little as if he enjoyed annoying his father, but in no time at all, Antonio was in his Halloween costume. Mickey’s huge grin could hardly be contained, even as he whipped out his cell phone and snapped a whole mess of pictures. “Oh, your great grandmother is gonna love this,” he chortled excitedly. 

“Mickey you good?” 

“Yeah (y/n), I’m still in the bedroom!” 

“You wanna hurry it up?!” you called. “I might need some help with the hair!” 

“Gimme one sec!” 

Mickey lifted Antonio from the bed and moved him back into his own room, carefully placing him in his crib before heading back in to help you. “Your need help with the hair?” he asked you. 

“I dunno,” you sighed in frustration. “Honestly, the people that did Carrie Fisher’s hair....”

“Babes, I’ve got this,” Mickey chuckled. “You forget, I grew up in a big family and have an older sister who does hair for a living.” 

“Ok,” you said. “You win.” 

Mickey took your hair into his nimble fingers, working away effortlessly until at last it was done, your hair looking like a pair of huge cinnamon rolls stuck to the side of your head. 

“Alright Princess Leia,” Mickey teased. “Han Solo will be right back.” 

“Oh shit!” you blurted out. “I just realized, I need to feed Antonio.” 

“Alright, you go do that, I’m gonna go get changed.” 

You immediately went to the nursery and picked Antonio up, sitting right in the rocker to feed him as best you could. Alot of people had told you from the get-go that feeding would be painful and at times it was, but as soon as you got used to it, it hardly hurt at all. 

As soon as Antonio had been fed, burped and settled, Mickey popped right back in wearing his own Halloween costume. “Isn’t he cute?” he asked with a huge grin. 

““Oh my God,” you half laughed. “As if a Baby Yoda didn’t give me enough feels already, Mickey.” 

“Hey it was either this, or we go as Ghostbusters and he’s Baby Slimer,” Mickey told you. 

“So are we gonna get going, or are we just gonna stay here and nerd out?” 

“Right, right,” Mickey stammered. 

The two of you headed out to the truck and loaded up, putting Antonio into his carseat before heading to the Floyd ranch. Tonight was always the best time of year for the ranch, seeing as the squad got to set up and manage the haunted hayride every year.

It wasn’t a long ride at all, only a half hour at most before you two had pulled up to the ranch, people already having arrived just before sundown in an array of costumes, young and old, kids and teenagers as well as seasoned old salts. The leaves on the trees had turned burning shades of red, orange, brown and yellow while the heavy smells of hay, apples and fresh picked pumpkins was everywhere. 

“Holy shit!” Rooster exclaimed. “Looks like you guys went all out with the Star Wars thing.” 

“Yeah and you look like you just stepped out of a Bram Stoker novel,” Mickey chuckled. 

“Hey, Rusty wanted to be Mina so I had no choice but to be Jonathan,” Rooster said in his defense. “Look, I’ve even got a stake in the belt-loops of my pants.” 

Bob emerged onto the porch a moment later, his Indiana Jones look complete with a real bullwhip at his side. “Is that my favorite nephew?!” he exclaimed when he saw Antonio. 

“You wanna take him?” you laughed. 

Bob gladly took Antonio, still in his Baby Yoda costume, littering the baby’s cheeks with kisses and telling him how cute he was. “God I’m nervous,” Bob remarked. “The wife’s due in a few months.” 

“You’ll do fine,” Fanboy assured him. “By the way, what time’s the haunted hayride?” 

“Seven thirty is what Dad told me,” Bob answered as Antonio sucked on the end of his pinky. “He’s all excited because he gets to chase people with a giant knife.” 

“Isn’t that illegal?” you asked him. 

“Well, he was originally gonna make a homemade flamethrower but Mom talked him out of it pretty quick.” 

You guys laughed, trying to picture the whole thing going down. Regardless, you all intended to make it the best Halloween to remember.

#top gun maverick #mickey fanboy garcia #fanboy x reader #robert bob floyd #bradley rooster bradshaw #dagger squad #dagger squad halloween #headcannons to come

[scarefox]

10 BL BOYS I WILL THROW HANDS FOR

got tagged by @mygwenchan and @blmpff (slightly different challenge title but basically the same so I throw it together)

haha, this perfect. I tried to do the "10 characters I want carnally" challenge twice, but failed so hard because... well I don't want anyone carnally, nor would I want to get between my fav couples 😅

But would I throw hands for my favs?? I sure would!

No particular order except number 1 :>

----------

1 ) Uea from Bed Friend & Middleman's Love

Is anyone who follows me surprised? I am member of the Uea defense squad. He can be as snappy as he wants, he's allowed to.

2 ) Nont from Playboyy

Don't question his methods, okay? If he thinks he has to make out with everyone, play silly party games with hidden agendas, torture and kill people all for investigation reasons (or pleasure), then so be it 😌🤷‍♂️

3 ) Phop from Playboyy

He's just a cute little camboy who sometimes scams people to support his family, leave him alone

...... oh well haha

but hey it basically was just a conversation, before I moved Phop on my protection list I am sure this will never happen again between these two :)

4 ) Hira and Kiyoi from Utsukushii Kare

Haters just don't get them and how special and perfect they are for each other. Also the neurodivergent representation.

5 ) Kijima from the Pornographer series

Is he a bit of a manipulative, weirdo and pervert? Yes? But he's also a depressed writer with artblock who needs some love?

6 ) White from Not Me

He tried his best with the options he had okay? It's not as if he could just google his brothers biography. Of all the twin switch plots he's the one who did the most effort in actually looking like his twin and tiptoeing around his gang.

7 ) Yeon Woo and Yoo Han from Color Rush

Codependent frenemies to lovers, soulmates with a big dose of hurt/comfort. I love them and don't you dare call it bromance just because has no spice scenes. But the tension man, the tension~

8 ) Babe and Charlie from Pit Babe

Welcome Mama and Papa on my protection list 😌 Everyone wants something from Babe, while he just wants to live freely. And Charlie out here trying to protect Babe while endangering himself. Just let them have their little family in peace.

9 ) Jeff from Pit Babe

Most relatable and smartest guy in the whole drama. Also introvert-no-touchy representation.

10 ) Fan Ze Rui and Bai Zong Yi from Kiseki: Dear to Me

One of the most underrated couples??? My siblings in hell??? Their insane plot, the angst, the bite kink, the height difference, the tension, the devotion, the lap sitting???

Okay, let's keep it at that. Those are all characters I defended already or am ready to defend haha. There are definitely more but these are my big ones atm.

I tag @dream-thief-forever-amen @nozunhinged @braceletofteeth @lukaherehelp @chitaprrrrrrrr

I don't know who already did this. So yea, as usual do it if you want to (also everyone who isn't tagged and wants to do it, just do it)

#there is a pattern in this and it's that I like unconventional characters and couples the most

[sharpestasp]

Star Wars IV: A New Hope liveblog transcript

Thread for Star Wars IV: A New Hope

"There will be no escape for the Princess this time." Someone give me ALL the almost-captureds she had prior to this movie?!

The marrieds are arguing.

Threepio&Artoo.gif

Ya know, given Threepio's way of thinking, the fact he saw the transport and had hope implies to me that Alderaan treats their droids better than we see in so many examples elsewhere.

TELL ME ARTOO ISN'T FORCE SENSITIVE! He knew there was danger ahead. But he HAD TO GET TO BEN. And his way was through.

(Those Jawas would have been in for it if he'd had his boosters)

Okay, that must be the MOST observant Stormtrooper in the Empire. ("Look, sir, droids!")

I have a conundrum: Did Captain Antilles/Senator Organa instill a protocol that if Leia was captured, Threepio forgot what she looked like/could lie about her? Or was Threepio only aware the Princess traveled on the Tantive IV but somehow had no idea who she actually was? I think it is a 'if this/then that' protocol to explain that 'I don't know who she is'

"What about my theme?" "Mark, the main title is your theme"

Oh right, forgot to interject: When Threepio calls him Sir Luke, that is the most heavy-handed foreshadowing ever.

"C'mon, let's go have a look" IS NOT YOUR BEST IDEA. Gods, you are so Anakin's kid in this movie.

I know it's because of retconning, but wow this whole opening with Ben reads so HYSTERICALLY with Prequel and Clone Wars canon in place.

Alec's face as he's asked if he's related to Obi-Wan Kenobi.

"I don't seem to remember ever owning a droid" is TRUE! Jedi did not own things. And Artoo was not OWNED anyway after TPM

brain inserts: and highly flammable after the "cunning warrior" comment

Ahh, Yularen.

Canon divergence moment - if Beru had managed to hide somewhere the Troopers missed.

wow such a heavy handed Force Compulsion use there. And then Mr Wanted in 12 systems is immune to the Kenobi Charm.

"Should I have?"

ALSO, LOL, Chewie is back there going "General Kenobi Got Old"

So thankful I have the Han Shot First edition

Tarkin - fierce and terrifying me - he's wearing fuzzy slippers Kinda like the scene in RotJ and knowing McDiarmid was having to scooch his chair around with tiny movements of his feet

Han reports it was totally blown away… and then argues the whole Fleet couldn't do that. This is why I love Han. He embodies contradictions

Fool or the fool that follows him? Ahsoka, GIGGLING HER HEAD off as she remembers her Master(s)

Also, Chewie is going oh shit, Luke figured out how to manipulate his cub

the detention center scene is a chaos fest worthy of Domino Squad

intothegarbagechute.gif

Also, Han's "he's the brains"

Threepio was SMOOTH

okay, but honestly, I am glad my suspension of disbelief is strong. Have worked with cardboard balers and trash compactors, I actually said 'all they needed was stay on top; there was enough waste that the compactor would not have been able to squish fully'.

Luke's FACE when Han is chastising Chewie. I bet that was ad-libbed

youcameinthatthing.gif

Han's CHARGE!

The stormtroopers: why are we running from one man?

"There's no lock." "That'll hold them for a while." "Find the controls" "I think I just blasted them."

This is SUCH a level 3-6 D&D campaign

Oh Luke. He's lost his family, he's lost his home, now he's lost the teacher he bonded with who KNEW ABOUT HIS DAD

Okay, but Artoo. He'd never been wiped. And while he might not have KNOWN the black suit menace was HIS JEDI, he likely did suspect it more than a little. So that scene was just as traumatic for him.

"Don't get cocky" LOL

You know, Leia hugging Chewie in the cockpit goes a long way to making up for her earlier trauma-induced insult to him. Because she initiated the hug

ya know, I actually LOVE all of the computer screen displays in this; it's nostalgic in the best ways

"Or they'd have a tighter defense" OR MAYBE they had a Saboteur designing it. (I do approve of the logic behind Rogue One 'explaining' that design)

Chewie: he's got a point Han: ain't having it Chewie: fine I will argue with you on the ship

hello first Folger's Kiss (on the cheek, but still). Given Luke had been wondering earlier if maybe…

I so very much LOVE the X-Wings

And the dog-fighting is so good

His former best friend (boyfriend?) and his future best friend as his wingmen is just… perfect

Oh Han

All the hugging

And Threepio being so worried

Big Gay Wedding now

First fandom forever. I still love this canon.

#star wars #a new hope #asp watches movies

[queer-starwars-bracket]

Queer Star Wars Characters (Round 3): General Bracket Match 11

Zeen Mrala | Identity: wlw | Media: The High Republic Phase I

Zeen Mrala was raised in the Elders of the Path cult, a religion which saw force-sensitivity as abhorrent. In a metaphor for being neurodivergent and/or queer, Zeen was force-sensitive, which was something she had to keep secret. When her planet was simultaneously affected by an Emergence and attacked by the Nihil, she was forced to use her powers to help the Jedi save her people. This caused her closest friend, Krix Kammerat, to feel betrayed, and he joined the Nihil. Unable to stay with the Path, she joined the Jedi of the Star Hopper, who agreed to train her as essentially a Jedi auxiliary even though she was too old to become a proper Jedi. She found it was much easier to make friends when she didn’t have to hide who she was, and easily found a family among the Padawans on the Star Hopper. She grew closest with the padawan Lula Talisola. She joined the Jedi in attempting to hunt down Krix, who was quickly growing in power within the Nihil. Through her Force connecting with Lula and the balancing of love and nonattatchment they were able to succeed. After Starlight Beacon was destroyed and Lula was declared missing, she swore she would do whatever it took to find her love.

When Zeen first confronted Krix after she decided to hunt him down, her anger at Krix’s reaction to his view of her powers drove her to Force choke him, only being held back by Lula. After further Jedi training, the next time she had Krix had her mercy she was able to resist his bait and didn’t harm him. She had come to terms that Krix had never really loved her if he couldn’t accept all of her. She took well to Jedi training, but never had any angst about not being allowed to become a proper Jedi. 

Sinjir Rath Velus | Identity: gay | Media: Aftermath Trilogy

Ignoring Moff Moors, Sinjir is tied with Esmelle and Shirene for being the first queer character in the New EU. And unlike those two, he is a major character. He was abused by his mother and then the ISB training process. An ISB loyalty officer, he was stationed on the Endor shield generator, where he nope-d out and attempted to become a regular civilian. An alcoholic, he found himself on Akiva, where he was pulled into helping Norra Wexley, her son Temmin, and the bounty hunter Jas Emari drive the Empire off the planet. Afterwards, he decided to make up for his time with the Empire by joining a New Republic war criminal hunting squad with the rest of the Aftermath novel’s ensemble cast. He began dating New Republic slicer Conder Kyl, but due to his alcoholism and trauma, their relationship was rocky. His team helped Han Solo in an unauthorized mission to liberate Kashyyyk. Afterwards, considering himself unworthy, he broke up with Conder. After the Liberation Day attacks, he joined Norra and her team in attempting to hunt down Rae Sloane. They tracked her to the planet Jakku, where the Imperial fleet was massing. After sending Norra, Jas, and Mister Bones down to the planet, Sinjir and Temmin returned to Chandrilla to convince the New Republic to launch an attack against Jakku. Sinjir got pulled into the political shenanigans necessary to get the resolution to pass, where he had to go crawling back to Conder and beg him for help. After Conder’s life was threatened in the process, Sinjir realized he couldn’t stay away from Conder. With his found family, he was able to become sober. He was recruited by Mon Mothma to become her aide. He and Conder got married after the end of the war.

Sinjir was snarky and cynical, in part as a defense mechanism and the result of his alcoholism. But even after he got better, he was still a silly guy. As a former loyalty officer, he was skilled in intrigue and intelligence, as well as self-defense. After a lifetime serving the Empire, even though he wanted to help the New Republic, he rankled at still just following what a government tells him to do- hence all the unauthorized missions. Mon Mothma recruited him because she needed a cynic and someone who could play the game. He was very close with Jas Emari, essentially platonic soulmates. 

#star wars #sw #sw aftermath #sinjir rath velus #zeen mrala #the high republic #sw thr

[direwolfrules]

3 Mandos and a Baby AU: The One Where Fenn Purposefully Adopts A Child

So, while nonsense is happening on Aq Vetina Fenn and a squadron of Protectors are dispatched to Corellia on an escort mission of great importance. Mandalmotors executive Jaor Ordo and senior member of the Ministry of Defense Korast Eldar are to meet with a Corellian ship company to negotiate a joint project.

Korkie decided that just Kom’rks and Fang-class fighters aren’t enough for the Mandalorian fleet. He wants something like the old Kandosii-class Dreadnoughts, just without the obvious weakness to the hyperdrive. Also, he wants a dedicated transport network to move civilians around Mandalorian space, especially now that the young Mand’alor’s Meshgeroya league is finally getting off the ground. Beer and circuses.

The initial meeting goes well, and as they’re heading back to the hotel Fenn hears noises from a nearby alley. He sends the squad on ahead while he checks it out.

Fenn sneaks up quietly to assess the situation and finds a bunch of scrumrats beating up a younger kid. Before he can make his presence known and come to the ad’ika’s aid some feral kid comes barreling in to try and help and just winds up being beaten by the gang instead. At this point Fenn does intervene, shouting “HEY” with his helmet’s vocoder turned all the way up. All the kids scatter, including the brave little one who jumped in to help the other.

A few days later negotiations are wrapping up really nicely. As they’re leaving the Corellian company’s office building a kid manages to slip through their guard perimeter and steal Eldar’s datapad. A datapad that contains so many state secrets, why the hell was it out, by the Ka’ra Korast!

Fenn and most of the other Protectors pursue the kid right down to the Den of the White Worms. Lady Proxima is yelling at the kid who brought the datapad down because he was supposed to steal a piece of beskar from the Mandalorians, not a datapad. Moloch goes to hit the boy when another kid steps between them and takes the blow. Fenn recognizes him as the kid from before – the one who jumped into a street fight he had no chance of winning to help out another kid – and his Mandalorian adoption instincts activate.

It’s bit of a fight, the Protectors take down Proxima’s enforcers and call the Corellian authorities to arrest them, and then they turn their attention to the kids. The feral child who keeps putting himself in danger to save others is standing between the Protectors and the younger kids.

Fenn manages to convince the boy, whose name is Han, that he’s not a threat and they take all the kids back to the hotel to sort things out. Fenn pays for like ten more hotel rooms on Korkie’s dime.

After a few days of the Protectors feeding and sheltering them without asking for anything in return some of the kids put down their guard. Han asks Fenn once, when they’re all eating dinner together, why they’re doing this. Fenn just replies that no Mandalorian worth the name would ever leave a kid to starve on the streets, it’s not honorable.

The kids start getting adopted, because over twenty Mando’ade were left alone with orphans. Garr and Ashara Peskod, seven year old twins whose parents died in an outbreak by the spaceport a year ago, get adopted by Vengo Reeves. Treka, a little Rhodian girl, gets adopted by Jaor Ordo. The human girl Han likes to hang out with, Qi’ra, gets adopted by Kaden Beviin, though she still seems fairly suspicious of the rest of the Mandos.

Han doesn’t trust Fenn that much. He can’t fathom a world in which a guy like the Protector just...cares. It’s not how things are done. Still, Han winds up talking to him more than he intends to. He tries to ignore the Mando, honest, but he always talks about such cool stuff. He even showed Han around the cockpit of his Kom’rk when he heard Han wants to be a pilot.

What really, finally gets Han to trust that Fenn is really just that nice happens on their second to last day on Corellia. Han’s suspicious of where Fenn disappears to everyday for an hour, and he manages to convince Qi’ra to cover for him while he sneaks to find out. Han watches from the air vent in Fenn’s room as the Protector holo-calls some lady named Bo.

This Bo lady moves the holocomm so a little kid lying in bed is visible and Fenn gets all extra soft and happy. The kid calls him buir and Han’s spent enough time around Mandos the past week to recognize that this kid must be Fenn’s son. Fenn sings the kid to sleep and Han’s not sure how to handle how soft and sweet and sappy the normally tough soldier gets.

Once the kid, whose name is Din, apparently, falls asleep Fenn and this Bo lady discuss what’s going on with Aq Vetina, which Han kinda remembers from the big holonews casts on some of the screens throughout the city. Apparently the Mand’alor is ready to go down to Coruscant and personally rip the Chancellor a new asshole, and when she says how proud she is of her nephew Han realizes that Bo must be Lady Bo-Katan Kryze, who he didn’t recognize without her armor. He gets kinda shocked and almost gives away his position because “holy shit Fenn’s on a nickname basis with his king’s aunt and may or may not share a child with her”.

Han refocuses on the conversation only to realize they’ve switched topics. Fenn’s now talking about some kid he kinda wants to adopt. He doesn’t want to push the kid into it but “by the Ka’ra Bo he wants to be a pilot and you should have seen him when he jumped in to save that other kid” and Han realizes with a start that the kid Fenn’s talking about is him. And Han’s…not sure how to feel about that.

He sneaks back and when Qi’ra asks him what he found out Han just tells her the truth. That Fenn wants to adopt him.

Their last day on Corellia Han just goes up to Fenn and asks “So are you going to adopt me or what?” and Fenn looks like he might cry. Han doesn’t know why he asked that, but maybe it had to do with how genuine Fenn had seemed when singing to his son, or while taking about Han.

Anyway, Fenn and company stroll back up to Mandalore with thirty two more passengers than they left with and absolutely no one is surprised. When Fenn introduces 12 year old Han to the Kryzes he’s like “this is my son, Han Rau”, and little Din runs headfirst into Han’s legs and screams “ori’vod”.

Listen, it’s my wish fulfillment stream of consciousness time travel AU and I’ll do what I want.

#star wars #korkie kryze #bo katan kryze #korkie kenobi #star wars rebels #3 mandos and a baby au #satine kryze #star wars the clone wars #han solo #qi’ra #solo: a star wars story #fenn rau #bofenn #din djarin #duchess satine #star wars au #han gets adopted by mandos #that’s it that’s the post #mandalorian Han Solo

[gimmeurtmi]

Ummm good riddance to that anon, tf?? I’m glad that they decided to go ahead and remove themselves from the situation bc I was ready to come and defend my bubs 😤 anyways, starting a lils protection squad for anyone who wants to join. Also, I love the Minsung interaction but lately it does feel a bit more forced upon them to the point that sometimes their interactions don’t even feel natural anymore 😔 and then you have the fans that take it way too seriously and get upset when min literally does anything that doesn’t involve Ji like god forbid you point out a cute moment between him and another member bc Jisung is his soulmate like??? They’re all soulmates bffr. And as a Minho bias your just more aware of this happening so I don’t blame you for reacting like that

-🫧

nothing more to add i think you summed it up pretty well!! a bestie who’s a han girlie says it’s the same with han too that a lot of it is about minho and i think it can be frustrating when it has nothing to do with an interaction. like i saw a min edit that was basically boyfie vibes minho and it was glorious and all the comments were about jisung and not about how soft and beautiful minho is and it was so sad to see like my babyboo should be loved for all the things not just his relationship with one member. and ofc the same goes to ji there are so many reasons to love both of them and their relationship is just one reason it shouldn’t be the only reason. they also have beautiful relationships with each of the members and as a 2minner a LOT of the time there’s a 2min moment and all of the comments are about what jisung will say about this and yeah. same goes to cute 2racha moments and so on. also us leeknowers are very defensive over minho because of the way some fans treat him and talk about him so to see him reduced to just han’s boyfriend gets very very hard to ignore the more you see it. and we see it so so much.

leebit is actually head of the lils protection squad so you are welcome to join him 🥰🥰🥰🐰

#ask #anon #🫧 anon

[multifanderwrites]

| Previous Scene- Obi-Wan’s Sacrifice |

{The Millennium Falcon}

(Chewbacca and Han are in the cockpit) “I hope that old man got the tractor beam out of commission, or this is gonna be a real short trip.” (Starts the engine) “Okay. Hit it!”

(The Millennium Falcon is able to successfully pull away from the Death Star. In the lounge, everyone is now mourning the loss of Obi-Wan “Ben” Kenobi. Leia sits next to Luke, puts his poncho on his back. Katniss sighs, a tear falling down her cheek) “Luke… I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I know it probably wasn’t easy seeing him again.”

(Understandably, Leia is confused) “Who?”

(Katniss looks at her niece) “Vader.”

(The Princess gulps, the trauma of being interrogated still very fresh) “You’ve met him before?”

[im not sorry for the pain you’re about to feel] *nine year old Anakin Skywalker VO, archive audio* “Are you okay? You’re in pain. I can feel it. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I knew him.”

*nineteen year old Anakin Skywalker VO, archive audio* “I killed them. I killed them all. And not just the men. But the women… and the children too. They were like animals… and I slaughtered them like animals! I HATE THEM!”

“I never saw the signs…” (Glaring at Pan) “… that he was the bad guy the entire time.”

*offended Robbie Kay noises* “I- Okay.” (Pan is at a loss for words) “Okay.” (He walks out of the lounge) “Fine.”

{Cockpit}

(Han turns to his co-pilot) “We’re coming up on their sentry ships.” (Stands up from his seat) “Hold them off. Angle the deflector shields while I charge up the main guns.”

{Lounge}

(Katniss reflects on her very brief encounter with Darth Vader while trying to comfort her nephew. Luke is completely unaware of how complicated the situation actually is… but we know he won’t be in the dark forever. It’s not long now. The time is coming… but we need to remain patient. The fact of the matter is… Luke Skywalker has lost his mentor) “I can’t believe he’s gone.”

*I lost my parents, my friends, my home… my hero… all in one day* “There wasn’t anything you could’ve done.” [added because fanfic. Fuck off] “Or I could have done.”

(This somber moment is interrupted by Han Solo) [I am the singular member of the Mixiverse Han Solo defense squad

HE’S DONE NOTHING WRONG!!!!] “Come on, buddy. We’re not out of this yet.” (To Katniss) “You might wanna watch this, hon.”

(Katniss follows Luke and Han to…)

{Luke’s Gunner Port}

(… where the young man sits down. He looks at his aunt) “You might wanna hang on to the rung of that ladder, Aunt Kat.”

“Yeah.”

{Han’s Gunner Port}

(Han puts on his headset) “You in kid?”

*Luke VO, headset* “We’re in.”

“Okay. Stay sharp.”

{Luke’s Gunner Port}

(Luke focuses on memorizing the controls, notes that he has to teach his aunt how to do what he’s doing) “Hang tight, okay?”

{Cockpit}

(Leia, Sarah and Chewbacca sit in front of the controls. The ship starts to shake, and then…) “Here they come.” [come through, John Williams iconic score!]

{Lounge}

(The Doctor looks at Naomi) “Here we go.”

(She can’t help herself) “It’s gonna be a bumpy ride… and I am terrified.”

(Jim and Peter also strap in, acting as if they’re on a ride in the happiest place on Earth [

I’m hilarious. And very broke… and hate inflation])

{Luke’s Gunner Port}

(For a brief moment, the power goes out after one of the enemy ships attacks the Falcon. Again, this is only for a brief moment because the power does come back. Katniss watches Anakin’s son attempt to take shots at the incoming TIE fighters, whose eyes are trained on the targeting computer in front of him. She is really, really struggling to understand everything she’s seeing; she doesn’t know what does what… but she does know one thing…) “It’s all about aiming.”

“That’s the problem. I can’t aim when they’re not in range.”

(Re: targeting computer) “That square thing is-“

“Yeah. It’s supposed to help you see what you’re trying to shoot.”

(The Mockingjay feels like this is an inappropriate time for learning about the mechanics of starship technology/ space battle weaponry) “Maybe I should just have labels on the controls?”

(Luke tries again to take down an incoming fighter, but it’s difficult. He shouts into his headset…) “They’re coming in too fast!”

{Lounge}

(Zip is being held by the Doctor and Naomi, which is a good thing because the ride is very, very rocky. And as the ship takes an even bigger hit from one of the TIE fighters, the dog is secured in place between the couple… unlike C-3P0 and R2, who have made their way out of the lounge. The golden droid is knocked off balance by the attack, letting out a yell as he falls into a batch of wires and computer chips)

{Cockpit}

(Chewbacca looks at Sarah, barks out a question to her. Thanks to the Tardis translation circuits, she can understand the Wookiee) “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

(Leia leans towards the intercom) “We’ve lost the lateral controls!”

{Han’s Gunner Port}

(The charming smuggler takes one hand off the joystick of his cannon, holding his headset in place) “Don’t worry! She’ll hold together.” (He can smell smoke) *mumbling* “You hear me, baby? Hold together.”

{Main Passageway}

(R2 extinguishes the fire coming from the place where the hit occurred)

{Han’s Gunner Port}

(The young man’s eyes are trained on his targeting computer, but he can hear the sound of the TIE fighter flying closer to his area of the ship. Then… BOOM!!! Han has just shot down an Imperial TIE fighter!) *hey, something good happened today* [interpret that how you like] “Ha ha!”

{Luke’s Gunner Port}

(Another one bites the dust! And it’s Skywalker!! [yes, this is a callback to Episode One. I don’t want to hear your complaints. Have you met my friend… the door?] Luke smiles and laughs) “I got him!”

(Katniss laughs) “You got him!”

(He looks over his shoulder as he shouts to Han…) “I got him!!”

(The other man gives Luke a quick thumbs up) “Great, kid! Don’t get cocky.”

{Han’s Gunner Port}

(He turns back to his screen) “Katniss, make sure your nephew doesn’t get cocky!”

{Cockpit}

(Leia doesn’t want to celebrate just yet) “There’s still two more of them out there!”

{Luke’s Gunner Port}

“Aunt Kat… how are my odds looking?”

(Katniss looks outside the port, seeing another fighter) “I’d say they’re in your favor.”

(Luke grins) “Let’s see!”

(BANG!!! Katniss laughs at the sight of the fighter exploding after it’s shot down by her nephew) “Yes!”

{Han’s Gunner Port}

*Luke OC* “Three down, one to go!”

(Han waits. Three, two, one… POW POW POW POW! BOOM!! The last TIE fighter is now an explosion of smoke. Relief washes over the space pirate, who exhales and removes his headset)

{Luke’s Gunner Port}

(Katniss hugs her nephew) “Your dad would be so proud!” [🥲 so true, bestie]

(Luke smiles as she releases him) “That’s it! We did it!”

{Cockpit}

(Leia, who probably had the worst luck today, is smiling from ear to ear) “We did it!”

(She hugs Chewbacca, who returns the gesture. He roars, telling Sarah to get in on the hug. She obliges) “Oh my god.”

{Lounge}

(It’s safe for Zip to be on the floor again. The Doctor can’t help himself, picking up his girlfriend and spinning her in his arms before kissing her) “Totally brilliant!”

*it’s giving “I carried a watermelon”* “I did nothing.”

(The Doctor scoffs) “That’s not entirely true. We kept the dog from getting hurt during that scuffle with the TIEs.”

(Pan stretches) “I think everyone was equally useless here. Or, to put it a better way… everyone was equally useful.”

*C-3P0 OC* “Help! I think I’m melting! This is all your fault, R2!”

| Next Scene- A Chat in the Cockpit |

#fanfiction #the mixiverse #star wars #anakin skywalker #katniss everdeen #darth vader #doctor who #matt smith #eleventh doctor #a new hope #george lucas #luke skywalker #naomi rosenthal #madison mclaughlin #sarah williams #han solo #leia organa #chewbacca #the millennium falcon #jim halpert #jennifer lawrence #the mix ins #peter pan once upon a time #obi wan kenobi

[agentcable]

Mouse (2021) Ep. 11 Recap

Ba-Reum acted on Yo-Han's voice in his head and killed Woo Hyung-Chul. Despite attempting to turn himself in, all evidence related to the murder, including the victim's body, had vanished. Meanwhile, Bong-Yi's anxiety is triggered by an encounter with Kang Deok-Soo, who begins to act again on a rainy day.

If you want to watch the series for yourself, stop reading! This post contains spoilers to the storyline.

In a large meadow, a young boy found Jae-Hoon staringat a bloody animal while clutching a knife. The boy took Jae-Hoon's hand and noted that the cut must be painful. He ignored Jae-Hoon's grumpiness and instead applied mashed up pennywort onto the wound for disinfection purposes. Jae-Hoon asked if the boy wasn't scared, as everyone else avoided him since the rabbit incident. The boy stated firmly that he would not leave a wounded friend behind. He also asked Jae-Hoon to stop killing animals. Jae-Hoon wondered why he was not like the boy and wished to be like him.

Ba-Reum is currently freaking out about killing Woo Hyung-Chul. To add to his horror, he imagines Yo-Han grinning at him. Yo-Han asks Ba-Reum how he feels about killing someone, and Ba-Reum is shaken by the night's events. When Ba-Reum arrives home, he tells himself that it's Yo-Han's fault. The former doctor appears again and asks if Ba-Reum feels better blaming him. Despite his denials, Ba-Reum is still a murderer. Ba-Reum claimed self-defense, but Yo-Han knew he enjoyed watching Hyung-Chul take his last breath. Ba-Reum denied it and yelled at Yo-Han to leave.

Ba-Reum reports to the station in the morning to confess. Initially, Moo-Chi and the Violent Crimes squad do not hear him whisper, but they all turn towards Ba-Reum when he loudly declares, "I killed him!" A task force investigates the warehouse, but nothing seems out of place, and no blood is found. A colleague suggests taking Ba-Reum to the hospital due to the unknown side effects of brain surgery. Ba-Reum insists that it did happen. However, the team was informed that Hyung-Chul turned on his cellphone, and they were able to track his location. At the station, they reviewed footage of Hyung-Chul stowing away on a boat.

Ba-Reum asked Moo-Chi if he knew about Hyung-Chul's involvement in the recent murders. Moo-Chi admitted feeling uneasy about Yo-Han's possible innocence, but after investigating, he confirmed that the murders were just a copycat. Soo-Ho was burned alive, but high schooler Kim Jin-Ah was burned after death. Moo-Chi had someone tail Hyung-Chul, but unfortunately, they lost track of him. The detective intended to inform Ba-Reum during his visit to the substation. However, after watching the video of Hye-Won, he became busy running around, which ultimately led Moo-Chi to discover the bodies of Young-Hee and Hye-Won. Moo-Chi observes that Ba-Reum appears to be desperately hoping that Yo-Han is innocent.

Ba-Reum visits the hospital to check on Seul-Gi. Dong-Goo thanks him for his help. Although Dong-Goo didn't believe that Ba-Reum killed Hyung-Chul, he initially thought it was well-deserved.

At home, Ba-Reum receives a call from Moo-Chi asking him to report to the Evidence Storage team for work the next day. His head aches as he thinks about Hyung-Chul's death, but a meow reminds him that it's his cat's mealtime. Ba-Reum has not yet regained her trust, but he promises to never harm her again. As he moves the birdcage out of his way, the shocking memory of snapping Eo Bong-Yi's body and tossing her out of the window resurfaces. The next day, Ba-Reum discovers that the bird was found dead outside his window. Some children had given it a proper burial.

Ba-Reum is now convinced that what happened with Hyung-Chul was also real. He heads to the warehouse. Upon pulling a tarp off a mound of materials, Ba-Reum discovers a scorch mark on the ground in the exact spot where he remembered kicking down a barrel of fire. This confirms that it was not just a hallucination. The question remains: who cleaned up the scene of the crime? On the night of the incident, an individual waited for Ba-Reum to leave before taking Hyung-Chul's body and meticulously cleaning up the area. While watching Ba-Reum, the man with the "OZ" tattoo on his finger calls someone and says, "I think he noticed. What should I do?"

Ba-Reum, determined to do the right thing even if he is deemed mentally ill, heads to the police station. While on his way, an elderly man trips, causing them both to tumble to the ground. Upon arriving at the station, Ba-Reum receives a call from a stranger asking, "Are you thinking of turning yourself in, Jung Ba-Reum?" Ba-Reum realizes that his phone must have been switched during the earlier collision. Ba-Reum agrees to meet the elderly man who somehow knows about the brain surgery and Hyung-Chul's disappearance.

However, at the meeting place, he is knocked out with chloroform and wakes up in an unfamiliar location. The old man reveals himself to be Daniel LEe, who Ba-Reum thought was dead. Daniel deflects questions about himself and redirects the conversation towards Hyung-Chul, who everyone believes was smuggled to the Philippines by boat. Daniel implies that they only made it appear that way - Hyung-Chul did board the boat, but is likely dead.

The professor wants to know how Ba-Reum felt while killing him. Ba-Reum claims it was self-defense, but Daniel urges him to be honest, knowing that he experienced a pleasure he didn't know existed. Ba-Reum's brain is being slowly consumed by Yo-Han's. Now that he has killed someone, Yo-Han's murderous switch has been flipped, and the urge to kill will only continue to grow. Treatment will not help this addiction.

Daniel suggests reducing his violent tendencies by eliminating the top 1% of psychopaths, which would save innocent lives. Ba-Reum only needs to provide their DNA for Daniel to confirm their predatory status. The police officer yells that Daniel is crazy and vows to turn him in, but Daniel points out that it's hard to believe without a body or evidence. Even if someone believed Ba-Reum's story about Yo-Han's brain merging with his, he would only end up becoming a science experiment. Daniel returns Ba-Reum's phone and warns him that if he ignores the urge, the time between his murderous switch flipping will shorten, and he'll end up killing his loved ones first.

The following day, Shin Sang discovers Ba-Reum in his new position while delivering evidence. Ba-Reum assumes that Shin Sang is going on a blind date because he looks particularly well-dressed, but he is actually a guest on tonight's episode of "Sherlock Hong-Joo", which is returning to the air. After grabbing an outdated bill in a plastic bag to buy drinks with, he received an earful from Moo-Chi. Didn't he learn from the coffee mix incident? The bill was given to Moo-Chi by a child named Bong-Yi as a retainer fee to kill a bad guy.

The latest episode of "Sherlock Hong-Joo" concludes smoothly, and next week's episode will focus on sexual offenses against children as the one-year anniversary of Kang Deok-Soo's release approaches. Shin Sang, a child psychology major, offers to return as a guest and mentions that Moo-Chi was responsible for putting Deok-Soo behind bars and is close to one of the victims. Hong-Joo realizes that she must have been the person Moo-Chi wanted her to take in.

Bong-Yi's words reached the alcoholic mother, who sent her daughter Yoo-Na to live with her father temporarily. Yoo-Na takes her mother's phone and is instructed to contact Bong-Yi if she wants to chat, while Deok-Soo lurks in the shadows.

Ba-Reum is called to Bong-Yi's workplace and finds her drunk. She cups his face in her hands, squeezes his cheeks, and pouts. Bong-Yi's boss informs Ba-Reum that an old classmate appeared and taunted her about a case, calling her pitiful, which led to a fight. Ba-Reum brings Bong-Yi back to her place and gently tucks her in. Ba-Reum caressed her hair but felt the urge to wrap his hands around her neck. He fought against it, but spooked by his own actions, he left in a rush. He was frustrated that Daniel's worods were ringing true.

Bong-Yi wakes up and cringes in embarrassment, remembering her outburst. She runs out to bring Ba-Reum his forgotten phone, but he is too lost in thought to hear her across the street. At the crosswalk, Deok-Soo passes her and whispers something in her ear. Hong-Joo witnesses this while stopped at the light and runs out to help Bong-Yi up. Ba-Reum also sees this and remembers that Halmoni trusted him to take care of Bong-Yi. He decides to wipe Deok-Soo's spit with a handkerchief.

After escorting Bong-Yi home, Hong-Joo is accused of exploiting victims for a good headline. The PD clarifies that she is not there to cover a story and was only concerned about Bong-Yi because of Moo-Chi, who suggested they live together. Bong-Yi explodes, asking why she should do that. Deok-Soo is the criminal, so why should she keep running? Exhausted, Bong-Yi kicks Hong-Joo out and claims she will take care of herself.

The next morning, Hong-Joo visits Moo-Chi to inform him of what happened and provides the dash cam footage. Moo-Chi is enraged, but the probation officers claim that Deok-Soo is acting lawfully and that a victim's restraining order does not apply to him.

Ba-Reum wipes Deok-Soo's spit off a new toothbrush and gives it, along with his colleagues' toothbrushes, to Daniel as a test to identify the psychopath gene. Daniel correctly identifies the toothbrush and warns Ba-Reum that he must be stopped. A psychopathic predator will commit the same crime no matter what and will only get worse as they evolve.

Ba-Reum found Bong-Yi's case in the database and watched a video of her giving a statement as a child. She was battered from the assault. Bong-Yi was sent to get more makgeolli for Halmoni, and that's where Deok-Soo first saw her. Deok-Soo left before Bong-Yi. On the rainy night, Bong-Yi found an abandoned puppy and tried to help it. Deok-Soo attacked her. Ba-Reum remembers how Bong-Yi had cried about the puppy in Halmoni's arms the previous year. Moo-Chi saved Bong-Yi and arrested Deok-Soo. However, in court, the sex offender claimed that he was too drunk and would never commit such a heinous crime.

Kang Deok-Soo received a ten-year prison sentence. The court acknowledged his reduced emotional and physical capacity. This decision made Halmoni extremely angry. Ba-Reum sheds a tear while reading about the situation, feeling upset.

Ba-Reum visits Bong-Yi to check on her. While thinking about what Deok-Soo whispered to her, "I think about you when it rains," she uses up her energy boxing. Moo-Chi remembers the young Bong-Yi who gave him a 1,000 won bill and decides to fulfill his promise to kill Deok-Soo upon his release. Both men go to Deok-Soo's place, but Ba-Reum gets there first. Ba-Reum watches Deok-Soo through the window. He recalls Dong-Goo mentioning that he thought killing Hyung-Chul was a good thing because the bastard deserved to die. Moo-Chi arrives just as Ba-Reum leaves.

The detective wastes no time and punches Deok-Soo, who feigns ignorance about why he's here. Deok-Soo quietly shares what he said to Bong-Yi that night. Whatever it was causes Moo-Chi to be even angrier than before. He pins the criminal down and sticks the barrel of his gun to his head. At this moment, Deok-Soo's mother gets home, and Moo-Chi gets locked behind bars.

Deok-Soo pretends to live in atonement, so Team Leader Bok sends him home first. The criminal smirks at Moo-Chi before leaving, and the detective realizes he's been played. Shin Sang is asked for a favour since nobody will release him.

Meanwhile, Ba-Reum prepares for something, stocking up on tools like hammers and chains, dressed in black and working out. He waits until midnight to make his move. When he gets to Deok-Soo's place, he finds the convict foaming at the mouth with a suicide letter next to him. Ba-Reum brings him to the hospital. He believes that the atonement letter is proof that the convict has reformed and is not a psychopath.

The following day, Ba-Reum encounters his aunt who is struggling with a whining child. He learns that the child is his cousin, Hoon-Seok, who throws a tantrum because his mother refuses to buy him a cat. Ba-Reum treats him to some food. While the cousins interact, Ba-Reum's aunt watches from afar. Ba-Reum promises to show Hoon-Seok his cat when she gives birth.

Shin Sang visits Bong-Yi and hands her a taser, as instructed by Moo-Chi. He also informs her that he is in jail for attacking Deok-Soo, Bong-Yi discovers that it will rain this weekend and becomes anxious. Deok-Soo had whispered to her, "I'll come to your house when it rains." When Moo-Chi hears about the weather, he pleads to be let out, aware of what Deok-Soo said to Bong-Yi.

Ba-Reum arrives home to find that Butterfly has given birth. He grins and immediately calls Hoon-Seok to oshare the good news. Since his aunt is visiting "Jeju Halmoni" and the ajumma that Hoon-Seok is home with is sleeping, Ba-Reum decides to pick him up and gets his address. He finds it odd that they live in a different neighbourhood than he had originally thought.

Shin Sang heads out to film another episode but finds Deok-Soo's mother lingering outside the station. She apologizes for not raising Deok-Soo well. She also requests the release of Moo-Chi. Shin Sang hands the statement to Detective Ki from the Violent Crimes team because he is running late.

At the start of "Sherlock Hong-Joo", Bong-Yi purchases a new knife solemnly, and Ba-Reum picks up Hoon-Seok after leaving a note for his aunt. Shin Sang explains that the police force can individually monitor those who are not at high risk of being repeat offenders. Everyone is alert when a criminal is released, but after a year passes, people begin to relax and assume the criminal has been rehabilitated. According to him, this is the most dangerous time because they are waiting for the boundaries to lift so they can commit crimes again. Deok-Soo chuckles while hearing these statements and prepares to head out after getting a quick workout. Deok-Soo watches Bong-Yi walking home in the pouring rain, smiling. He receives a call from a probation officer who checks in and claims that he is just out at the pharmacy.

Hoon-Seok loves the kittens. He notes that Butterfly doesn't seem to like Ba-Reum, judging by how she hisses at him. Ba-Reum decides to cook a meal to change topics. During the meal, Yo-Han appears behind Hoon-Seok and tightens his hands around his neck. Ba-Reum freezes in shock.

The probation office receives notice that Deok-Soo's anklet is damaged and that he's on the move. This is breaking news. Bong-Yi, who was prepared with her new knife, breathes a sigh of relief, thinking that Deok-Soo ran away. She buys snacks from the convenience store and catches part of "Sherlock Hong-Joo". The shopkeeper tells her that Yoo-Na had been there earlier. Bong-Yi realizes something when Shin Sang claims that pedophiles never change and will always target children.

Ba-Reum fixes a clogged sink while Hoon-Seok pesters him to play. Ba-Reum's demeanor turns cold. Hoon-Seok runs off to play hide-and-seek, and Ba-Reum complains that he's noisy.

Meanwhile, Moo-Chi begs Detective Kang to let him out, claiming that Bong-Yi is in danger. He pleads with him to turn a blind eye and is willing to report that he stole the key himself. Detective Kang hands it over to him, but warns that he will lose his badge the moment he opens the door. Moo-Chi contemplates for a brief second before zooming down the stairs, past Detective Ki.

Ba-Reum searches while holding a wrench. As thunder rumbles outside, he sings a creepy version of the hide-and-seek song. Meanwhile, Bong-Yi enters Yoo-Na's home, where her mother is unconscious, and checks the phone that was left behind.

Deok-Soo carries a child on his shoulders. He had removed the child's anklet earlier that night using pliers. When Yoo-Na was sent to live with her father, Deok-Soo overheard Mom telling her to contact Bong-Yi if she needed anything. He searched for the phone number and sent a text to Yoo-Na, pretending to be Bong-Yi. The message claimed that Yoo-Na's mother was ill and that she needed to come home. Bong-Yi eventually realized that she was not the intended target, but rather Yoo-Na was. She reported this to the police. The officers responded to Bong-Yi's call, but Yoo-Na's mother informed them that her child was not missing,mistaking a pile of blankets for her daughter.

Moo-Chi and Hong-Joo rushed to Bong-Yi's neighbourhood, fearing for her safety. However, Moo-Chi's car crashed on the side of the road, and the man with the finger tattoo knocked him out from behind.

Meanwhile, Ba-Reum was in predator mode and eventually found Hoon-Seok hiding in the closet, fast asleep. As Hoon-Seok's phone lit up, Ba-Reum emotionlessly hit something repeatedly with his wrench while classical music played in the background.

Deok-Soo takes Yoo-Na to an empty field. However, Bong-Yi sneaks up and attacks him. The convict fights back, but Bong-Yi is unrelenting and hangs on for dear life. Ba-Reum arrives and Bong-Yi begs him to save Yoo-Na before passing out.

Following Daniel's advice, Ba-Reum attacks the pedophile to protect his loved ones from him.

#Korea #TV Serie #K-Drama #2021 #Mouse

[lightsiided]

1, 7, 10, 13, and 17 🤭

* character building questions | always accepting

1. what’s the lie your character says most often?

probably 'i'm fine' DFJKGHDFHG. rey is definitely a 'put on a brave face' type, especially if people close to her are also going through it and she needs to focus on them. she'll brush off concern and pretend like nothing's wrong for as long as she possibly can. the more anyone else presses, the more she doubles down on it, insisting there's nothing wrong. then at the same time she gets upset no one knows or acknowledges she's struggling but can't say anything about it because she made her own bed. so she just winds up lonely and sulking and the cycle repeats!

7. what would you (mun) yell in the middle of a crowd to find them? what would their best friend and/or romantic partner yell?

anything about free stuff would get her to run right over tbh a best friend would definitely be like 'wow someone left a pile of astromech parts just laying around here?' and she would pop up instantly to rummage through them. for a romantic partner it's even easier because she is so defensive and protective, so they'd just have to say something negative about themselves and she would be like who would dare --

10. what fact do they excitedly tell everyone about at every opportunity?

that the millennium falcon crashed while it was still on the assembly line. idk how she came to know that little tidbit -- maybe it was a story shared by luke or leia, passed down from han in a rare, happy moment of downtime that no one even believes is true -- but rey tells everyone she comes across about how the fueling droid assembling the ship overcharged the chassis and made it jump off the line, so that everyone in the facility thought the ship was alive. she just loves that ship and all its little quirks so much. and when she tells stories about it or people ask questions she feels closer to han in sharing them, so she takes any chance she can get.

13. when do they fake a smile? how often?

i think in group settings rey often feels like she sets the tone for the whole squad, especially since she's had leadership thrust upon her. so it feels like it's up to her to be positive, optimistic and upbeat even if things look grim. like she could know they're about to do something dangerous and she'll be like, this is going to be great! and i think it also comes up often when she has to be happy for other people LMAO like not that she's not, but i think it's hard to see others with familial/romantic relationships and not think about the ways she's lacking and how lonely she really is. so of course she is happy for her friends, but the smile is still a little forced.

17. what do they notice first in the mirror versus what most people first notice looking at them?

her eyes always go instinctively to the small scar on her cheek. she never much cared about the aesthetic of it until people started to ask questions and she realized it was noticeable, and of course it looks bigger to her than it does to anyone else (it's tiny in actuality). i think when she's not being hard on herself she can acknowledge she has a nice smile, which is probably what other people notice most often, alongside her eyes and the freckles across her nose.

#ty this was fun #& answered. #& headcanon.

[heretherebedork]

I am so mad that we didn't get a single moment of Ji Han and Do Han talking after Do Han came out on public TV and informed the country that Ji Han was lying and that he was gay. Not even a single moment of the brothers talking? Nothing about their bond? Nothing about their 'separate but happy lives'? Nothing at all? Why not? Just them back together after a time skip tomorrow?

Nothing about the brotherly bond that Ji Han completely shattered and, before this, had been using it to be selfish and manipulative?

I hate that for us.

I wanted to love that brotherly relationship. Brothers can be SO GOOD.

But the show just doubled down on not giving a fuck and yet somehow Do Han is going to come back and talk to him like nothing happened even though Ji Han basically said he never wanted to see him again!? Why!? Fuck this shoooow.

Ji Han never tried to understand Do Han and the show seems to think that's a good thing.

#wedding impossible #kdrama #in defense of do han #do han defense squad #do han deserved better #also this show wasted the brother's relationship entirely #and tomorrow i can finally say goodbye #thank fuck

[athenagrantnash]

9-1-1 5x04, Agent Carter 1x04

This is directed at people who are accusing Chimney of being abusive over this. This is not directed at Buck who isn’t actually holding a grudge

#chimney han #chimneyhanedit #like.... what b uck did was true to character and i legit doubt he's going to blame c him for the punch #and i still say that it's proof he needs to GROW as a character; but it's still true to who he is #but his stans coming after C himney and calling him abusive... YIKES!!! #also i'm not even putting this in the b uck tags so don't @ me... I Do Not Want Discourse #but I am Fucking Tired of so many b uck stans come after c him for this #Like... I'm sorry but if you think this is a sign of abuse or that M addie is going to be afraid of C him over this when she comes back #I really do not know what to tell you #but you are Incorrect #tnaras stuff #chimney han defense squad

[dthvlley]

good morning

this is a nam do-san hate account effective immediately

#start up #nam do san #han ji pyeong #i will pull up on this man no questions asked #jipyeong defense squad

[maatryoshkaa]

between the lines | lee minho

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒!𝐀𝐔

✑ Late fines, shared lockers, and a missing love letter:

In which a frantic search for an overdue library book leads to you finding other things that are...long overdue.

✑ PAIRING: student librarian!minho x bookworm!reader

✑ GENRE: retro!high school au, slow burn, slice-of-life romance, slight enemies-to-lovers shenanigans

✑ WORD COUNT: 9.7k

✖︎ TAGS/WARNINGS: fem!reader, mild language, bullying themes, skz are all around the same age. mc is insecure and a bit of a valentine's day grinch. minho is whipped but too hardheaded to admit it. also, an embarrassing amount of classic literature/pablo neruda references.

Ah, Valentine’s Day.

Call it the most romantic day of the year if you will, but in the treacherous hallways of Levanter High, it meant a minefield of hormonal couples, crushed chocolate boxes, and supermarket rose bouquets. Clutching your backpack with a grimace, you narrowly dodged a pigtailed cheerleader as she leapt into her jock boyfriend’s waiting arms. Turning into another hallway, you plugged your ears to block out a senior boy’s cold rejection of a freshman’s nervous love confession.

You finally caught sight of your locker and breathed a sigh of relief. Levanter High’s lockers were split in half lengthwise—one top row, and one bottom row. You dropped to a crouch to wrench yours open—you’d lost your lock a couple of weeks ago—trying to block out the early morning commotion as you rummaged for your English books.

“Hey, watch ou—”

The locker above yours opened with a screech, and you looked up just in time to see a pink avalanche of cards and chocolates raining down on your head in a painful, deafening crash. The student who had called out the warning was frozen with a comical look of shock on her face. You swore the entire hallway fell silent, blood rushing to your cheeks as you slowly raised your gaze at the person who had opened the locker.

Lee Hana—head cheerleader of Levanter’s pep squad, and in your humble opinion, the spawn of Satan herself.

“Ohmigosh,” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her mouth in mock horror, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

The crowd around you was beginning to snicker and point, and you felt your face growing redder by the minute. “What are you doing here?” You asked tersely, motioning towards the locker above yours. “That’s not even your locker.”

Hana smiled and held up a small, glittery package. Oh. You didn’t have to look closer to know that the envelope was a love letter, elaborately tied to a box of expensive chocolates—the kind your parents would probably have to work overtime to afford. “My Valentine—for your locker buddy,” Hana replied matter-of-factly, then added, “Not that you would understand, hm? Since you’ve never received one yourself, and all.”

A smattering of laughs erupted from the crowd that was building around you. Biting back a retort, you looked down at all the other Valentine’s trinkets that had spilled around you. Of course—you should have gotten used to it by now. After all, your locker was right underneath the one that belonged to the student librarian, school heartthrob, and the absolute bane of your existence, Lee—

“Minho!” Hana exclaimed, and you looked up to see him shuffling through the crowd, his eyes briefly falling on yours. You immediately turned away as the pretty cheerleader skipped up to him, and shoved your books into your bag. Slamming your locker shut—twice, because Levanter’s damned lockers always jammed before shutting properly—you snatched up as many of Minho’s fallen Valentine’s Day trinkets as you could before shoving them back into the now-emptied top locker. The metal door was still swinging wide open. You’d overheard Minho complaining to the boy who always did the announcements—Han Jihyun? Han Jisung?—about how he kept losing his own lock. Both of you seemed to have a habit of misplacing things (not that you liked to admit to that similarity).

Out of the corner of your eye, Minho was still watching you over Hana’s shoulder, his lips tilted in a half-smile. Your gut twisted unpleasantly. Four years and counting—that was how long you’d ended up with a locker right under Minho’s.

“You’re so lucky!” Lia—your best friend—had gushed, while you had scoffed in utter disbelief.

“Oh, sure. Just my rotten luck.”

“Come on, y/n. Are you still hung up about that love letter from freshman year?”

Yes, you had thought sourly. “No way,” you had snapped, and Lia had giggled, unconvinced.

It wasn’t like you’d always had a personal vendetta against Minho. In fact, in ninth grade, you’d been head over heels for him, just like the rest of the student body—to the point where you’d even slipped a small love letter into his locker on Valentine’s Day, too. It had been one of those gaudy 99-cent corner-store cards, and you'd saved up your pocket money just to buy a matching pack of candy hearts. Then you’d spent the day with butterflies in your stomach, anxiously waiting nearby his locker to see his reaction.

But when he hadn’t shown up, you'd shrugged and begun heading home—and that was when you had caught sight of Minho, throwing all the love letters he’d received straight into the Dumpsters in the back parking lot.

Talk about a reality check.

As if that hadn't been traumatizing enough, you’d been forced to face him nearly every morning for the following three years. To make matters worse, being Minho’s involuntary locker mate also meant that all the girls—and guys, for that matter—saw you as little more than a stepping stone to him, always asking you to relay party invitations or trying to curry favour with you to get to him.

“We’re not close,” you’d insist to his persistent admirers every time, but it didn’t help. Minho, on the other hand, you thought bitterly, seemed to think he was too good for anyone—he didn’t even respond much to Hana’s advances, and she was drop-dead gorgeous. There was no way he’d even look twice at you—you’d been firsthand witness to that. You finally gave up trying to clean up the fallen Valentines, and stood up with a sigh. Throwing him a death glare, you pushed past the crowd just as the bell rang and students began scurrying away.

What did it matter if Lee Hana was trying to get with Minho? If anything, they were a match made in heaven. Or hell. With a decided huff, you plopped yourself down at your desk just as your English teacher began class.

“We’re starting the poetry unit today! Remember, you’ll be writing a love poem of your own for the final project—so I suggest you all get started on reading!” You teacher had winked and clapped her hands excitedly while a collective groan had swept through your class. A few couples had nudged each other meaningfully, already promising to write their poems about each other, and you’d thrown up a little in your mouth.

Romance was a bit of a touchy subject for you— now, you didn’t hate the notion of love, per se, you’d just always been somewhat...wary of it. After watching your friends fall in and out of disastrous relationships and fleeting feelings from the sidelines too many times to count, your own defense mechanisms had skyrocketed, and now you found yourself trying not to roll your eyes at every piece of romantic writing you read. Still, this inexperience only made you more determined to get a head start on the topic— and so, once the last bell had rung, you made a beeline for the school library. You would tackle love the only way you knew how to—by hitting the books. Pushing open the door, you overheard Hana and her friends muttering in disappointment and immediately recoiled.

“You said he’d be in here!”

“Well, I thought I saw him! Let’s wait for a bit.”

You peeked over the librarian’s desk, and sure enough, it was vacant— save for a tray of half-shelved books and stamping cards. Maybe Minho left early today, you thought, shrugging. That’s a relief. Then you shook your head quickly. What’s it to me whether he’s here or not? You tried to ignore Hana’s disdainful glance at you, heading straight towards your favourite nook at the back of the library instead: a cozy alcove tucked behind the last row of shelves. With a deep sigh, you pulled out the first book of poetry your teacher had assigned—Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets—and sank into the bean bag chair.

‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May…’

A couple lines in, and the Englishman’s words were already making your head spin. You grimaced, massaging your temples. ‘A summer’s day?’ Seriously? You could swear you’d seen something less cheesy on a dollar store card. After a couple of pages, you could already feel your treacherous eyelids beginning to droop, fighting to stay awake as you tried to make sense of Shakespeare’s verses. But thy eternal summer...shall not fade...nor lose...possession…

“The library’s closing.”

You jolted awake, hands fumbling blindly before you could even force your eyes open. The library came into focus first—the lights had been dimmed, the flickering EXIT sign from the empty hallway casting a warm glow through the panelled window across the room. A dull headache still throbbed in your temples.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes groggily. You had to practically peel your cheek away from the Shakespeare book, fingers gingerly feeling the dent the cover had left in your cheek. “I-I’m so sorry, I must have—lost track of time studying.”

A familiar chuckle sent your heart plummeting to your stomach. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

When your eyes finally adjusted, your expression automatically soured into a glare.

“Now that’s more like it.” Smirking, Minho crossed his arms, leaning back on a bookshelf. He glanced down at the book in your lap—the book that you clearly hadn’t been studying. “Didn’t know you were one for Shakespeare.”

“I—” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not. His writing gives me a headache. It’s like it’s all in another language or something.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Old English. Why are you reading it, then?”

“We’re doing poetry in class—and our final project is to write an actual love poem, based on the poets we’ll study. Shakespeare was just first on the reading list, so…” you felt yourself trailing off, flustered. Why were you even bothering to explain this to Minho, who probably couldn’t care less? “Nevermind.”

You felt his piercing gaze on you as you shoved your books into your bag, glancing outside at the nearly emptied parking lot. If you squinted, you could spot a couple—Seo Changbin, judging by the male’s iconic leather jacket, and his lover—making out under the bleachers. You shook your head incredulously. Valentine’s Day. Love poems. Hormonal couples galore. It was like the universe was playing a long, cruel joke on you: Ha-ha, look who’s spending Valentine’s Day studying in the library alone.

Well, alone except for a student librarian with whom you had a mortifying history. Not much better. Eager to leave, you got to your feet, only to see Minho flipping through a smaller book he’d pulled off the shelf next to him. “If you want some real inspiration,” he began slowly, pushing up his glasses, “I’d suggest you start closer to our time period.”

You looked down at the book he was holding up, brow furrowing as you read the title out loud. “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. Pablo Neruda.”

“The best Chilean poet of the 20th century,” he nodded. “‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving but this.’”

It took you a second to realise Minho was quoting a poem, and you were suddenly grateful that the dimly lit library hid the flush of red that had betrayed your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “That actually sounds...kind of pretty.”

He didn’t look up, but you thought you saw the corners of his mouth shoot up ever so slightly. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on you? Flipping through the book, Minho fished out a pad of sticky notes from his back pocket and marked a few pages. “Here. ‘The Song of Despair’...‘Tonight I Can Write’...‘Here I Love You.’ Those are good.” Clamping the book shut, he held it out towards you.

You almost thanked him, but the words faltered on your tongue as you took it from him suspiciously. “What’s with the sudden helpful attitude?”

He shrugged. “It’s my job.” You raised an incredulous eyebrow, and he smirked. “Consider it my apology for this morning, then.”

That left you at a real loss for words, and for the first time, you struggled to find a retort. “That’s...considerate of you, apologising on behalf of your girlfriend and all.”

“Hana’s not my girlfriend.”

You breathed a small laugh. “Soon-to-be, then. Don’t break her heart.”

Minho scoffed, bringing the book to the front desk and scrawling your name on the sign-out card. He stamped the dates, then held it out at you before glancing out the window. Dusk had fallen, the empty football field lit only by rows of flickering lampposts. “You can get home safe?”

“Screw off, Lee Minho.” You eyed him warily, shoving the book into your bag before practically running to the double doors. The strange atmosphere that had suddenly built up in the library felt terrifyingly foreign to you, and your first instinct was to be rid of it as soon as possible. In the hallway, you spotted a janitor dumping a bin into a trash bag. A familiar avalanche of pink envelopes and gifts caught your eye, and you felt a wave of humiliation. Just the memory of Minho throwing yours out—after reading it and having a good laugh, no doubt—made you want to ram your head into the lockers all over again. You’ve got no chance with him, y/n, you thought blearily. Right when you’d thought you’d finally come to terms with Minho’s brutal (albeit unintentional) rejection, here he was again: crashing back into your life like some...cat-eyed, pointy-nosed meteor.

“Oh, y/n! One more thing.”

You’d already had one foot out the front door when Minho called your name again, making you jerk your head back in surprise. Minho had his bag slung over one shoulder, a pile of books in his arms as he waved to get your attention. His smile looked almost...genuine in the warm shadows, his round glasses softening his usually sharp gaze. Despite yourself, you felt your heart skip a beat.

Then Minho made a wiping motion over his face and grinned. “You’ve got drool on your chin.”

Your face reddened, and you slammed the library door shut, earning a glare from the janitor down the hall. Smacking the heel of your palm against your forehead repeatedly, you stormed out of the school muttering curses under your breath. Typical Lee Minho.

To your surprise, you practically devoured the poems in less than a week, taken aback at how much you genuinely enjoyed them. It was the first time you didn’t find yourself cringing at romance—and sure enough, in a couple days’ time, you found yourself reluctantly standing back in front of the double doors of the school library once again.

Carefully, you craned your head to peep into the panelled window, scanning the room for Minho. As per usual, a gaggle of girls were huddled on the other side, blocking your view.

“Looking for someone?”

Flinching, you nearly tripped on Hana’s long legs as she came up beside you. Before you could respond, she fixed you with a withering look. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Little Miss Perfect.”

“I—sorry?”

The cheerleader rolled her eyes, sneering. “Don’t act all innocent with me, you sneaky b—”

Sighing, you pushed open the doors before she could finish. Hana followed you into the library, still sputtering angrily. Her hand snatched your arm, French manicure digging painfully into your cardigan.

“The Valentines,” she hissed, and it finally clicked.

She’s talking about the love letters, you realized. The ones Minho throws out every year.

Gut twisting, you looked up to see all the other girls crossing their arms and looking back at you expectantly. “None of you...got a response?” You asked incredulously, already knowing the answer. This happened every year: Expectant admirers showered Minho’s locker with gifts, Minho wouldn’t even glance at them— and then, for some reason, you were left to take the blame. A twinge of annoyance shot through your chest.

“You stole them from his locker, didn’t you?” Hana continued accusingly, pupils shaking. “You sneaky, jealous bitch— of course you did.”

He threw them all out, you wanted to scream back at her, but the words wouldn’t budge from your tongue. Somehow, saying them out loud felt like tearing off the stitches of an old wound; a painful reminder of your personal humiliating memory. And—though you hated to admit it—a small part of you still didn’t have the heart to throw Minho under the bus just yet, even after all that he’d done.

Feeling defeated, you sighed and turned towards her. “Why would I want to do that?”

Hana scoffed, tossing her chocolate curls over one shoulder. “Oh, please. We all know you’ve had a massive one-sided crush on him since ninth grade.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, the other girls’ snickers at your reaction drowning out any of your protests. “That’s not—”

“Not true? Then—is it mutual?” Hana sneered mockingly. “Don’t make me laugh. He wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of y—”

“Can I help you with anything?”

The small crowd fell silent as Minho appeared from one of the aisles, eyebrows raised slightly in his usual nonchalant manner. A chill of panic rushed down your spine, palms growing clammy with cold sweat. H-how much did he overhear? In your peripheral, Hana was practically batting her eyelashes at him, but Minho’s mild eyes were focused on yours expectantly.

“I—uh. Well,” you stammered eloquently, your entire body suddenly paralyzed. Hana’s cherry red lips were twisted in a smug smirk, clearly waiting for you to embarrass yourself. “The book,” you blurted, immediately rummaging for the poetry book in your bag and holding it out to him.

Minho took it from you, fingertips grazing yours slightly. They were surprisingly warm. “How’d you find it?”

“R-really good, actually.” Then, you hesitantly added, “I...like the way Neruda uses imagery—he’s precise without being plain, and artful without deviating too much into purple prose. I think I liked Tonight I Can Write the most— y’know, ‘Tonight I can write the saddest lines...’” You swallowed, then instantly began regretting having ever spoken. Great job, y/n, now you sound like a full-blown nerd.

But Minho nodded, his eyes gleaming. “‘I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me, too.’”

“That’s the second verse,” you muttered automatically, and his lips twitched.

“It’s one of my favourite lines.”

The other girls had begun to awkwardly shuffle out of the library, their absence easing your racing heart. With just a few mildly spoken words, you noted, Minho had managed to make you feel as though you had blocked out the rest of the world. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Hana glaring daggers at you, and the small smile dropped from your face.

“Do you need something?” Minho asked her blankly, his gaze trailing down to Hana’s hand, which was still painfully latched onto your arm. With a roll of her eyes, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the library.

As soon as she was gone, you breathed an audible sigh of relief. Minho was peeling the sticky notes off from the poetry book you’d returned, eyes still watching you intently. Giving him the side-eye, you deadpanned, “She’s pretty, you know. Maybe you should go talk to her sometime.”

There was a small smile on Minho’s lips. “Does she like Chilean poetry?”

You could only give a short—slightly too shaky for your liking—laugh in response, ruffling your own hair as you tried to calm your frazzled nerves. Don’t forget, y/n. One, that he’s out of your league. Two, how this was all his fault to begin with.

“Is that all you came here for?” Minho’s voice broke into your thoughts again, making you jump. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He finds this—me—amusing.

“Well…” you looked down at your feet, then grudgingly nodded at the poetry book you’d just returned. “Do you...have any other recommendations?”

Minho’s face broke into a shit-eating grin, and you bit back a groan. before your pride got the better of you and you changed your mind, he was already heading towards the back of the library, sliding books out as you struggled to keep with his pace. “First of all, Dickinson. Hit-or-miss, but you never know. Then there’s Sylvia Plath, some Emily Brontë…”

Before you knew it, you’d been whisked into a world of verse and metaphor, flying between numerous time periods and continents as you and Minho perused the shelves. Just like the time when you had accidentally fallen asleep in the library, the library seemed to grow cozier, quieter, more peaceful during moments like these, as if the entire world was holding still as you lost yourself in pages upon pages of books. Soon, you found yourself heading to the library nearly every day after school. Despite yourself, you found yourself looking forward to that sunset hour, the fleeting period where most students had left, and the entire library would glow warm as though it were blushing under the swathes of golden light. And in these same fleeting moments, you found your gaze lingering more and more on Minho—the way he would push his silver glasses on, furrowing his brow in concentration whenever he searched for a book, or run his long fingers over their worn spines whenever he was lost in thought—

“Like what you see?” With a flinch, you realised Minho had begun walking back towards you, a crooked smirk on his lips as he set a new pile of books down at the desk you were sat at.

“No!” You snapped, too quickly. “Just—spaced out for a bit. Too concentrated on the project.”

The smirk hadn’t budged from Minho’s face, and you resisted the urge to throw a copy of Emily Dickinson’s Selected Poems at his long, pointy nose. “Mm. You seem to be coming here a lot more often.”

“That’s because the due date is coming up.”

“No. I mean, you seem to be talking to me a lot more.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching a book from the top of his pile as you muttered, “Screw you, Lee Minho.”

His eyebrows shot up in wicked mischief. “You’re more than welcome to try.”

With a cry of exasperation—and surprise at having been heard—you hoisted your book bag onto the table, building a makeshift wall between the two of you.

You didn’t catch the way Minho’s laughter slowly faded as he rested his head on one hand thoughtfully, quietly watching you read. Your lips were pursed in concentration as you muttered your notes under your breath. Cute, he couldn’t help thinking.

Minho had always been good at memorizing things, but he couldn’t remember exactly when you’d begun disliking him so much. You had always intrigued him—what with the way your locker always seemed to be overflowing with books, or how you used to lend him your copy when he forgot his, back in ninth grade. That Valentine’s Day, four years ago, your name had been the only one he’d hoped to find as he rifled through the cards he’d received. But he’d come up empty, and so he’d thrown them all out. And for some reason, you’d been cold to him ever since.

Minho had assumed that you were probably annoyed with all the letters that would fall out of his locker and onto you, and so every year he tried his best to get rid of the Valentines as soon as possible. Nevertheless, you only seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with him.

And now here you were, right in front of him, four years later, and he still couldn’t bring himself to ask you why. Confrontation had never been his strong suit—his words always seemed to come out too blunt, too cold, too soon, and so he’d always avoided bringing it up with you again. Minho sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Written words—that is, books—had always been so much easier than people.

He did, however, remember when he’d started falling for you.

Tenth grade, literature studies. He’d begun arguing against your thesis during one of your presentations, and the two of you had ended up bickering the entire class—pulling out quotes from nearly every chapter of Pride and Prejudice before the class president had to intervene, and your teacher had sent you both to detention.

You had glared at him once, and he’d fallen head over heels.

These violent delights have violent ends, he’d mused in his head back then—Romeo and Juliet—and with the murderous stare Minho sometimes caught you fixing him with, he was willing to bet that you were wishing a violent end on him, too.

He couldn’t pen a love letter to save his life, either— and so, he resorted to pettily glaring at any admirer that approached your locker like Gandalf—you shall not pass—until they backed off. Minho didn’t think you would appreciate him revealing that, either. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous his actions seemed—and like a poorly written plot twist, you had ended up stumbling back into his life again. Never in his life, however, did Minho think that Pablo Neruda would become his wingman. Glancing down at his portrait on the back cover of the book, Minho could almost imagine the Chilean poet pointing his pen threateningly: “Don’t screw this up.”

“Hey, Minho?” He snapped out of his thoughts to see you waving your hand at him from the other side of your book bag. “You were right. I don’t get any of Dickinson’s poems.”

Your words took a moment to register, Minho caught off-guard by the soft golden hour light illuminating your pretty features. You waved your hand in his face again, and he blinked, breath caught in his throat. Almost tripping over his tongue, he finally quipped, “How on earth are you passing AP English?”

You glowered and smacked his shoulder, the near-silent library ringing with Minho’s laughter once again.

With a week left to the deadline, you were planted at your desk in your room, the wastebasket littered with crumpled up half-sheets of notebook paper. To your dismay, none of the words seemed to be coming out the way you wanted them to. Gnawing the back of your pencil in frustration, you dumped the contents of your book bag onto the desk, and spotted your latest library book—100 Love Sonnets, by Pablo Neruda. Inexplicably, out of all the poets Minho had introduced to you, you always found yourself coming back to him.

Flipping through the well-thumbed pages, your fingers stopped at one titled Sonnet XVII. “I love you without knowing how,” your eyes scanned the verse curiously, “or when, or from where. I love you simply…”

It was the poem Minho had quoted that evening in the library, you realized, heart skipping a beat. “...without problems or pride / I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving / but this, in which there is no I or you / so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand / so intimate that when I fall asleep, your eyes close.”

With a sigh, you buried your head in your arms, lying face-down onto the desk. Maybe the reason why you instinctively disliked reading love poems so much was because of the sheer sincerity of them all. You envied their ability to put feelings into words—with unabashed, unapologetic ardour, and be celebrated for it, to boot. Eyes scanning the verses again, your mind wandered to the way Minho’s eyes had lit up as he’d explained the lines to you, his brow furrowed in focus.

At Levanter High, you had grown used to being pushed around and out of the spotlight. It was either the popular girls and their backhanded compliments, or the boys who spoke to you condescendingly just to a) get you to do their homework, or b) get in your pants. But Minho had always taken you seriously, albeit while driving you half-insane with his infuriating remarks. And as much as you hated to admit it, that same fiery look in his eyes whenever he got worked up—so different from his usual reserved facade in front of the teachers and swooning students—had always made your heart skip a beat. In tenth grade—back when he seemed to pick a fight with you nearly every English class until Bang Chan had to hold the two of you back from killing each other—you’d thought you’d successfully quashed your feelings for the mild-voiced, hazel-eyed librarian. Yet every time he spoke, he left you feeling vulnerable, disarmed, and you were back—though you refused to admit it—to square one.

“‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul,’” you whispered, fingers tracing the words on the paper. Feeling a sudden surge—of confidence, or simply exasperation, you weren’t sure—you seized the pen and began scribbling on a new piece of paper. For years, you’d been afraid to face your feelings, terrified of the humiliation if Hana—or anyone at school—found out. But if getting them all out in one cheesy, hot mess of a love letter could give you some closure, you thought tensely, you were more than happy to oblige. You would write it all out under the guise of a love poem, and then it would never have to see the light of day again.

Words began coming to your head like a floodgate had been thrown wide open, and you began scrawling onto the page. “‘I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers,’” you quoted thoughtfully as you drafted your own poem. In a way, it felt cathartic—you could get all your feelings out, pass it off as an assignment, and never think about the forbidden fruit again. For all you knew, it was a win-win situation. The pen kept wobbling, ink spilling out haphazardly and skipping, but you relaxed slightly. Maybe this assignment wasn’t too bad, after all.

Head filled to the brim with poetry, you set the pen down and dozed off.

“You’re not coming to the football game?” Lia flashed puppy eyes at you, and you smacked her hand playfully, swiping a french fry from her plate.

“Lia, since when have I ever gone to one?” The two of you had dropped by the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe for a quick pick-me-up during lunch hour, but one smile from the cute waiter—Yang Jeongin, if you remembered his name correctly—had dazzled Lia into ordering an extra burger combo, complete with a plate of fries. “Sports and crowds—not my thing. And I have an English project due the next day.”

She pouted. “Oh, come on! Knowing you, you’ve probably already finished it by now.”

You grinned, thinking back to your love poem and fighting the urge to cringe. You’d read it the morning after, and it had taken every fibre in your being to hold yourself back from ripping it to shreds. Piercing, catlike eyes, you’d written in one line. Silver spectacles. Long fingers on dusty pages. Shuddering, you’d stuffed it into the Neruda book before banishing them both to your locker and going about your day. Love poems are supposed to be cheesy, y/n, suck it up. It’ll only be this one time. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone other than your teacher would ever read it.

When you dropped by the library after school, you spotted Hana’s familiar figure by one of the cubicles. As she tossed her hair over her shoulder with a laugh muted by the plexiglass windows, you saw that she was talking to a grinning Minho.

“Are you sure you’re not coming to the game on Thursday?” Hana was whining as you pushed open the doors to the library. She patted his arms playfully. “You could be on the football team if you wanted to, you know! Why don’t you try?”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not that quick on my feet.”

“Well, tell you what. They’re having a party at Hyunjin’s place right after—his parents are out of town. If you don’t feel like coming to the game, at least join us at the afterparty to loosen up a little—have a little fun.” She blew him a kiss and stood, throwing her purse over her shoulder and spotting you. You instinctively froze, bracing yourself for whatever slew of insults she had for you today, but all Hana did was beam and wave at you.

As she passed you by the door, she threw you a knowing wink. “Have fun on your little study date!”

Her words made your ears grow hot again, but to your surprise, there was no trace of venom in her voice — only a lighthearted teasing, as if she had been your friend all along. Hana really did look sweet when she smiled genuinely, and you could see why she had so many people easily wrapped around her finger. Maybe people do change. Or she’s just in a good mood. Before you could shrug and turn away, you sensed Minho’s presence behind you and yelped.

He held his hands up in mock surrender, and you could swear he was suppressing a laugh. “Here to work on your project again?”

Hana’s strange exchange with you on her way out had left your mind reeling, and you scrambled to form coherent sentences. “No, I, um—I actually finished it last night. I just…” Thought I’d just drop by to say hi. But your pride turned the words to mush before they had even formed, and you ended up trailing off awkwardly.

“Really?” There was a flash of disappointment in his face, then Minho’s gaze landed on the book-borrowing register on the front desk. “Right—your book is due today. Did you want to return it?”

Your eyes widened, silently cursing at your own forgetfulness. “Um—yes,” you lied, pretending to search in your bag before giving an awkward laugh. “Yep. I think it’s in my locker—let me go get it.”

After jogging to the other side of the school, you flung open the bottom locker, making another mental note to replace your missing lock. Still catching your breath, your hand sifted through the notes and textbooks before coming up empty. Where is it? You could swear you remembered putting it there, unless—

Breath catching in your throat, you shut the locker with a mortified bang. The English classroom. You practically sprinted down the hallways, earning another dirty look from the janitor as you raced past. Bang Chan looked up in alarm when you nearly crashed into the English classroom door. The entire room was empty, save for the class president, who looked like he was helping to file the teacher’s papers.

“Where’s the fire?” He asked jokingly as your eyes frantically raked the room.

“Have you—seen a book, by any chance? 100 Love Sonnets. Pablo Neruda.”

Chan frowned. “We shelve all the books after class, and if it’s one we don’t recognize, we keep it until the students come back in the morning.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember seeing anything.”

Your heart sank, and you saw the corners of Chan’s mouth lift bemusedly.

“What’s the hurry, anyway? I thought you hated love po—”

With a groan of frustration, you left the baffled class president staring after you as you turned on your heel and back into the hallway. Your mind was racing, panic making your ears buzz. The love letter’s in there. Where the hell did I put it? You sprinted to the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe next, but only got an apologetic shrug from Jeongin even after you’d scoured every nook and cranny of the diner. The sun was already beginning to set as you trudged, defeated, back to the school. Spotting the library’s dim windows in the distance, you wrestled with your options — if it weren’t for that cursed love letter, you could’ve probably just told Minho you’d misplaced it. But now the book—along with everything you’d never dared to tell anyone, crammed onto a sheet of notebook paper—could be anywhere, and there was no way in hell you were going to stop looking until you found it. Heart heavy with dread, you did a full 180 and began walking home.

It was no use. You’d practically pulled an all-nighter tearing your room apart searching for the book— and then, the better part of the following day running around town. But no matter where you looked—the record shop, Blockbuster’s, or even the laundromat—you came up empty.

It’s like it’s disappeared entirely, you thought as the lunch ladies piled your tray with a few sad-looking burritos. The cafeteria was buzzing with teenagers jittery with caffeine and sugar, and you had to duck as a boy chucked an apple at another across the room. You passed the cheerleaders’ table, trying to avoid eye contact, but their giggly conversation carried over the chaotic commotion.

“Did you see how cute Hyunjin looked today on the field?”

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend? Maybe Hana can talk to him for us—if he doesn’t fall for her first.” The blonde cheerleader that had spoken nudged the older girl insistently.

“Me?” There was a smile in Hana’s voice. You could feel her eyes on you as she mused, “Oh, I don’t know, Hyunjin’s not my type. I much prefer boys with—how should I put it—catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long fingers perfect for turning dusty pages…” She clasped her hands together in mock adoration, and her friends erupted in giggles.

“What the hell was that? Sounds like a cheesy love poem.”

You had frozen stiff as soon as she had uttered the words, stunned eyes finding Hana’s only a couple feet away. She gave you a winning smile—the same one you’d deemed friendly just a couple days ago—and winked.

“Give me my book back.”

You pulled her aside after the last bell had rung, voice shaking. Hana only tilted her head innocently, eyes round as a puppy’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before you could spit a biting retort back at her, the taller cheerleader tapped her chin thoughtfully with one bejewelled nail. “But I might think harder if...I got a little something in return.”

You grit your teeth. “What do you want?”

“Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party as my date,” Hana beamed, “and tell the office you want to change your locker.”

“You’re crazy,” you blurted, and her face immediately darkened. Dropping her voice, she leaned in closer, until her voice was right beside your ear.

“Oh, I can be even crazier. What would happen if I made copies of this little letter on Monday, hm? Or published it in the school paper for everyone to read? I’m sure Han Jisung would love that—”

Your eyes trailed down to the slip of paper she’d pulled out of her purse, the sight of your own familiar handwriting making panic surge through your veins like ice. Snatching it from her hand, you quickly began tearing it apart before noticing the calm smirk on Hana’s face.

“Photocopy, silly,” she giggled in a sing-song voice as you peered more closely at the shredded pieces, hands shaking. “Oh, all right, don’t cry. If you want the original so badly…” she leaned in again, cruel smile on her lips. “Then you might want to look in the library.”

Eyes widening, you immediately pushed her away and bolted for the stairs. “Don’t forget the deal! Thursday night,” Hana called after you, and you broke into a run.

Most of the classrooms were already empty, their dark windows reflecting your own face back at you as you hurtled past them. Your heart pounded in your chest as the library finally came into view at the end of the hallway, but you nearly came to a screeching halt when you saw that the lights had been turned off. Had Minho gone home early? Chewing your lip anxiously, you peered past the plexiglass. Aisles empty, books all shelved neatly, chairs stacked. The library was quiet as a tomb. Desperately, you tried the knob—and to your surprise, the door creaked open. Maybe he forgot to lock it. You had nothing to lose. Holding your breath, you slipped in.

Even the faint click of the door closing again sounded deafening. You rifled through the front desk first, dropping to a crouch as you inspected the carts and borrowing-bin. To your dismay, they were all empty—they must have all been re-shelved already. Heart sinking, you began tip-toeing through the shelves, fingers trembling as they ran over the laminated Dewey Decimal labels. Please, please, please…

You reached the poetry section at the back of the library, eyes squinting to try and read the spines of the books under shrouds of shadows. Poets— Nash. Naidu. Nemerov…

“Neruda,” you gasped, eyes falling on the book you had practically gone through hell searching for. 100 Love Sonnets. Almost sobbing in sheer relief, you reached out to grab it—just as another hand shot out from beside you. Your yelp of surprise broke the still, dim quiet, and you didn’t have to look up to know who the warm, pale fingers belonged to.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here?”

Spectacles glinting under the twilight, one hand in his pocket, nonchalant as ever, was the boy that had gotten you into this mess. Lee Minho.

As you stared back at him, mouth slightly agape, you felt as though your entire world was balancing precariously over a yawning abyss— as if one wrong move would send everything you’d spent the last two months—no, the last four years—repatching. You swallowed hard. His hand had landed a split-second later than yours, holding both you and the book in place, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his warm fingers on your chilled skin. Forcefully, you yanked the book from the shelves and out of his grasp. “The—book. I-I realised I still needed it for the project. It’s due this Friday, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Today’s only Wednesday. Why not come back tomorrow morning?”

Shit. “I, um, promised Lia I’d go with her to the game tomorrow,” you fibbed, flipping through the book quickly, ready to grab any stray piece of paper that flew out. Nothing. “So I—need to finish the assignment today. Could you renew it for me?” Trying to plaster on an unbothered smile, you flipped through the book again. Still nothing. Had Hana lied to you?

In your peripheral, you saw Minho slowly shift his weight, crossing his arms as he mused, “Well, I’m not too sure about that. We’re getting...careful about letting students borrow books for too long. People tend to leave some...strange things in them.”

Your eyes snapped up, fingers freezing on the fluttering pages. “What—then did you—see anything? S-strange, I mean.”

A flicker of amusement passed through Minho’s eyes, and then it was gone. He cleared his throat, humming thoughtfully. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

The strange intensity of his gaze seemed to corner you into the shadows, and you swore your heart was pounding so hard it seemed to echo through the room. “Nothing,” you stammered, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “I mean, I just—accidentally left—” Kill me now. You shook your head rapidly. “N-nevermind. I’m heading home.”

“Y/N—”

“Oh, one more thing.” You turned, remembering Hana’s sly words to you back in the stairwell. “You’re invited to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, after the game on Thursday.” Then, hoping you sounded more convincing than you felt, “Hana’s really counting on you to be her date.”

Minho chuckled. “You know I go to parties as often as you do.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice in his words, only that same, airy indifference Minho always carried himself with. “Please? Hana—I mean, it would make her really happy if you went.”

“Would you be happy?”

The strange question caught you off guard, making you look up again. Minho was no longer smiling. His hand was still resting lightly over the missing space the book had left on the shelf, and his expression looked strangely lost under the twilit sky.

“Would it make you happy if I went?” He repeated, and you felt your mouth go dry.

Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, and I won’t publish your little love letter for everyone to see on Monday. You nodded firmly, laughing in an attempt to ease the strange atmosphere that had settled over the two of you once again. “Y-yeah. Ecstatic.”

You turned on your heel, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh. If the poem wasn’t in the book, where on earth could it be? Option one: It had fallen out somewhere along the way, and hadn’t fallen into anyone’s hands. The best case scenario. Option two: Hana had been playing with you again, and she had had the original all along. Option three…

“By the way, Hana told me not to give this to you.”

You whirled around in surprise, and your eyes landed on a horribly familiar piece of notebook paper dangling from Minho’s fingers. Option three, damn it all. Mortified, you snatched it from his hand, crumpling it into your fist as he laughed lightly.

“It’s a very good poem.”

“Shut up, Lee Minho,” you wailed, wishing the ground would just swallow you up and bury you six feet under for all of eternity. “It’s a cheesy, cliché wreck.”

He hummed in amusement. “What were you writing about?”

Paralyzed, your eyes flickered towards the window before sputtering, “The—sunset. Figurative approach, you know? Emily Dickinson-inspired—”

“Mm. Then what was that quote about—” He tilted his head in thought, fingers snapping. “Catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long—” He stopped when you plugged your ears instinctively, eyes glowering at him in disbelief. If looks could kill, Minho was sure he’d now have died more times than the characters in a Shakespearean tragedy. “—was that about the sunset, too?”

“Of course,” you snapped, your voice a tad too pitchy for your liking. Damn Lee Minho and his knack for memorizing things. “Haven’t you ever heard of extended metaphors? Rest assured, Lee Minho—I will never, ever, ever—have feelings for you.” You crumpled the sheet of poetry into a ball as you spoke with a note of finality, jamming it into your back pocket for good riddance.

Minho looked unfazed, the light curve of a knowing smile playing on his lips. After a moment, he took a step towards you, making you stumble back in alarm. “‘You can cut all the flowers,” he mused, glancing down at the crumpled love letter, “‘but you cannot stop spring from coming.’”

“Wh-wha—”

“Neruda quote. Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, and I’ll stop,” he murmured, eyes growing serious for a moment before his lips twitched with mirth, “but something tells me I deserve to hear more about that sunset from your poem.”

Gulping, you felt hot tears brimming in your eyes, and suddenly wished you were anywhere but here. This confrontation had been your worst nightmare, what you had always wanted to avoid. Your pride’ll be the end of you, y/n, you remembered Lia remarking when you’d sworn up and down that your feelings for Lee Minho were a thing of the past. And it was true—your pride had always gotten the better of you. You were a hypocrite, and a terrible one at that—always telling yourself you had gotten over that stupid, ninth-grade heartbreak, before unravelling into a nervous mess whenever Minho so much as threw a glance at you. And now, you could feel everything you’d feebly repressed for the last four years caving in. Crashing down on you like an avalanche of cheap supermarket chocolates.

“It was about you. You, alright?” You hissed, voice coming out more wounded, rather than venomous like you’d intended. “There. Are you happy now?” You were glad the shadows hid the humiliated tears beginning to roll down your cheeks, and wiped at your eyes furiously. Damn it all. So much for not crying.

“Then why didn’t you—”

“Say anything?” You breathed a short laugh. “Because I didn’t want to see you just throw it out again, okay?”

The silence that met your words was deafening, and when you finally mustered the courage to lift your gaze you saw that Minho’s look of disbelief mirrored your own.

“'Again?'”

Damn Lee Minho and his two-faced ass. Had he already forgotten? “In ninth grade. I left you a—stupid love letter in your locker, with all your other Valentines. Then I s-saw you throwing them all out, behind the school.”

“But I read every name on the cards,” Minho insisted, running a hand through his tousled hair. I left you—a stupid love letter in your locker. Your words sent his head spinning, and he felt his flustered cheeks heat up as he mumbled, “I’ve never—seen yours on any of them.”

Now it was your turn to blink in confusion. Minho’s brow furrowed in vague recollection. “But I did see Hana pulling an envelope out from my locker that day. She said that—she’d heard someone had been sending chain mail on Valentine’s Day, so she was helping the principal clean them up from people’s lockers.”

Hana? Your mind flashed to the missing locks, and the cheerleader that always seemed to be hanging around your locker, and suddenly everything dawned on you. “What did the envelope look like?”

“A corner store card. With—”

“Candy hearts. Right.” You muttered, watching Minho nod slowly. Your anger faltered slightly, feeling a slight shame wash over you, but you weren’t willing to give up just yet. “That still doesn’t explain why you dump out all the gifts you get every year.”

He sighed. “Look. Why would I keep love letters from people I don’t like? That’s just...narcissistic. And I don’t...like chocolate, either,” he added as an afterthought, and you couldn’t help exhaling a short laugh at his ridiculously blunt sentence. Another silence fell between the two of you, the angry tension in the air replaced with an almost childish awkwardness.

“I really did like the poem,” Minho spoke tentatively after what felt like an eternity, and you buried your head in your hands.

“Shut up, Lee Minho, oh my g—”

“And I wouldn’t have thrown it out.” The soft edge to his voice made you stop, peeking out of your fingers to look at him questioningly.

“Why not?” You asked, swallowing hard. “You said keeping letters from someone you don’t like would be narcissistic.”

He was barely a foot away, and the sheer proximity of his face from yours made your stomach flop—with irritation or butterflies, you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. Nonetheless, a tiny voice at the back of your head told you that you were heading towards the latter.

“You know, for someone who reads so many books, you sure are dense,” Minho murmured, shaking his head.

“Wh—”

“I throw out all my Valentines every year because I never see your name on them, alright?” His expression was as careless as ever—that cool, calm facade he wore like a suit of armour—but you didn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. Lee Minho, you realized with a jolt, was nervous. “I...only ever wanted to receive one from you.”

Your eyes widened, hands lowering from your face in shock. The book tumbled from under your arm to the ground. “But—Hana always told me about how much you hated me.”

“Hmm.” He dropped down to pick it up before fixing his piercing eyes on yours. “Funny. She’s been telling me the same about you. How you’re a two-faced, back-stabbing...such-and-such,” he smiled at the indignant look on your face before his face grew serious. “You’ve always let people walk all over you, and you never retaliate. It’s both admirable and frustrating to watch.”

“I’m not good at confrontation,” you mumbled, still shifting your weight from one leg to the other nervously. “Every time I think I’ve finally got the guts to try and say something back, I...I get all terrified that the words’ll jumble up and I-I’ll start to cry like an idiot again—”

“You’re not an idiot,” he interrupted sternly, “You’re probably more clever—and genuine—than everyone in our grade combined. Your thesis was brilliant.”

You snorted incredulously. “Then why did you keep attacking it every class?”

“It was the only time I could get you to talk to me.”

“Weirdo,” you muttered, but you couldn’t find it in you to make the word sound insulting anymore. Minho chuckled, hand grazing yours as he handed the book back to you. You didn’t move your hand away, and neither did he.

“It is weird. I must be out of my mind. Whenever you look at me, it’s like the whole world stops, and suddenly every cheesy line of poetry I’ve ever read just seems to make sense.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were more than certain Minho could hear it. The way he was looking at you was nearly overwhelming, stomach fluttering with a feeling so strange and foreign it terrified you. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that you would be here, in this delicate, unreal moment, and you felt all your insecurities threatening to swallow you up again. Out of everyone in the school, he likes you? A voice snickered at the back of your mind. Don’t kid yourself.

Shrinking away, you mumbled, “Y-you—don’t have to say stuff like that, you know. I mean, i-if you feel bad because of the letter and everything, you don’t have to pretend you lik—”

There was a flash of an exasperated smile on Minho’s lips. Before you could finish, his hand reached to pull your chin towards him again, and suddenly his mouth was pressed flush to yours. You froze, lips parting in surprise, but the kiss was light—barely even a brush of soft skin, and bringing with it the faint scent of vanilla and old books. Minho pulled away almost as quickly as he’d pulled you in, stammering, “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

That seemed to send what was left of your hesitation crumbling into dust. You grabbed the collar of his dress shirt to pull him back in, and the library fell silent again.

Minho kissed the way he talked—soft but firm, and always leaving you struggling to catch your breath. Each touch had the growing intensity of something long overdue, starting out careful—as though you were treading over the newly shattered, four-year-old misunderstandings of one another—before your hands instinctively tangled in his hair and Minho pulled you in impossibly closer. You could feel his heartbeat pressed against yours, the crumpled poem and Neruda’s sonnets long forgotten on the carpeted ground.

The click of the library door opening sent the two of you flying apart, Minho hitting his head on the shelf with a comical thud. The kiss left you dazed and out of breath, and Minho’s face was flushed as both of you whipped around to see a livid Hana at the front of the library. Mouth opening and closing in silent fury, she shot you a death glare before storming out the door, leaving both you and Minho blinking after her.

Several moments passed, the whiplash of the unexpected interruption having sent both of your heads reeling. Then, the two of you broke into stunned laughter, slowly sliding down to the carpet as you doubled over in giggles.

When you finally stopped laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, Minho’s gaze was fixed fondly on your face. You poked his cheek. “You’re blushing, asshole.”

He didn’t respond, eyes falling to your lips again, and you felt your own face flush. “W-what?”

Minho grinned. “And you have drool on your chin again.”

“Hey, Minho! Minho, you won’t believe this!”

That enthusiastic voice belonged to none other than Han Jisung—voice of Levanter High’s morning announcements, and notorious school gossip. He hurtled down the bustling hall towards you and Minho, hunching over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Shit, ‘sung—did you kill somebody?”

The dark-haired boy shook his head rapidly. “Did you see the school newspaper?”

Your mouth went dry, Hana’s lingering threats still ringing clear in your ears. Jisung continued excitedly, “Two people submitted anonymous love poems over the weekend—at the same time! Can you believe it? I’m supposed to cover it on the announcements in a bit!”

Two? You peered at Minho, who hadn’t looked at you, and glimpsed a knowing glint in his eyes. “W-who submitted them?”

“Well, Lee Hana was handing out copies of the first one to everyone first thing this morning. But when I showed her the other one, she refused to tell me who the first belonged to.” He pouted.

Minho looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Do you have a copy of the paper, ‘sung?”

The dark-haired boy grinned. “Yeah, ‘course! You guys can have mine. See ya!”

As Jisung disappeared into the crowd of students, you turned back to Minho. He had been in the middle of putting a new lock on your locker, and was now setting the combination on his own. “They’re matching,” he’d pointed out when you’d gone into town together to buy them, and you’d groaned.

“Gro-oss.” The old, PDA-hating you would have probably thrown them away on the spot, but now the sight made you smile like a dork. If you can’t beat em, join ‘em.

You looked down to read the papers Jisung had deposited into your hands. Sure enough, on the left column, you spotted a photocopy of your own love letter. But on the right, there was a completely new one—and you had a sneaking suspicion you knew who the anonymous writer was.

“You know, Minho,” you deadpanned, “I don’t think either of us are cut out to be poets.”

“I stayed up all night writing that love letter, you know!” Minho exclaimed indignantly, and you just shook your head laughing. “But you’re right. I could feel Neruda turning in his grave.”

“You’re going to be the end of me, Lee Minho.”

His face broke into a mischievous grin at that, pinning you playfully to the lockers and stealing another kiss as you yelped in surprise.

“Can it be a happy ending?”

#this took way longer than ryu anticipated #ryu is nervous and hopes you enjoy ㅠㅠ #part of this was just ryu being a self-indulgent english nerd too #also-new format! #tumblr's new update whoo #stray kids #stray kids au #stray kids soft #stray kids boyfriend #skz #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids minho #lee minho #lee know #stray kids angst #lee know boyfriend #bang chan #hwang hyunjin #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #seo changbin #han jisung #skz as high school lovers

[someonestolemyshoes]

Hello, My Queen of Steaming Levihan Content...!!

If you want/whenever you can, could you please bless our ship with Levi getting hot watching Hans training in sport bra and tight ass shorts? (Like, he absolutely dislike mess but watch Hans goes all sweaty, with fire in her eyes and smile as she pulls her shirt out, and then all her muscles flex and go taut, grunting and breathing deep doing heavy exercises or competing with Nanaba in weight lifting would definitely make Levi wonder or remember how powerful it would be to feel her body hot like - alive like that - because she was having the time of her life f*cking the brains out him.)

Or, Captain Levi body worshipping Squad Leader Hans during heavy exercises because she.is.just.hot.as.hell.from.brain.to.toe.

Many thanks!!!!

I love your writing!!!

I played around with the prompt a little because I had an Image in my head as soon as I read this, I hope you don't mind :)

Order up! Careful, this one is spicy.

Hange stretched her arms over her head with careless ease, popping her spine and rolling her shoulders with a nonchalant grace. If she sparred with the same manic fervor she slayed titans, she’d stand no chance against this soldier bare-handed—for all Hange was tall, she was too slight to take the great oaf out by strength alone.

The lumbering recruit seemed to have come to the same conclusion. He leered, mopped sweat from his heavy brow and blew snot out one of his nostrils. Levi’s lip curled in disgust. Hange’s grin broadened.

**

Levi despised sparring.

It was an activity Erwin seemed to reserve solely for blistering summer days, when the sun arched high overhead without so much as one solitary cloud to temper the heat.

Today was no different. Levi stood at the inner edge of a great circle of onlookers, all gathering around a chalk ring etched unevenly into the dirt, where two measly recruits were heaving and wheezing as they grappled, feet scrambling for purchase in the dry earth. The rules were simple; the first to set foot outside the circle lost. Winner stayed on to face the next challenger.

The taller of the two soldiers won out. He slammed his opponent into the ground outside the edge of the ring, a ploom of fine dirt puffing into the air right at Levi’s feet. The sandy earth scratched at his throat and stuck to his lips and tongue, grainy between his teeth. The elation from the brats victory gave way quickly to a nervous gulp as the next recruit entered the ring. He was a tall, bulky thing, far more brawn than brain, with a crooked nose and deep-set eyes. He sniffed hard and spat into the dirt, rolled his neck on his meaty shoulders. The victor shuffled his feet into an unsteady brace and raised his fists. The poor bastard should have done himself a favour and stepped down with some modicum of dignity—his opponent left him face down ass up on the filthy floor before he could throw a single punch.

The burly soldier naturally attracted more meatheads. Testosterone fuelled idiots with no combat sense, barrelling in with heavy handed offense. Levi watched with disinterest as shirtless bull after shirtless bull took to the circle, feral and uncalculated in every move, baited by the hoots and hollers of their peers and the dizzy prospect of victory.

The reigning champion shoved and grunted his way through four successive rounds undefeated. He broke a sweat only from the heat. Despite their vigor, none of his opponents had enough weight to throw around to stand a chance. Levi took a liberal swig from his water bag, dangling it at his side and looking idly around for the next contender; he saw plenty of men pushing and shoving one another, snickering like fucking kids, while others averted their gazes, less than willing to draw attention. Plenty of the women looked about as bored as Levi felt, none fooled by the show of muscle and bravado.

And then somebody new stepped into the ring, and the excited buzz dulled to a murmur of intrigue.

Hange Zoë was grinning brightly, tying her hair up into a scruffy ponytail. Most of the soldiers had stripped themselves of their shirts, leaving the men bare-chested and the women clad in the black, military issue chest bands, but Hange was still sporting a loose vest, a size or two too big for her thin frame. Her face had a dewy glow from the heat, a band of pink over her cheeks and nose where the sun had caught her. She had kicked off her boots and rolled the tight legs of her pants up to the knee. Her bare feet sank lightly into the loose dirt as she stepped up to the edge of the circle.

From behind her, Mike called out. “Fight fair, Hans.”

Hange turned to shoot him a thumbs up, and hollered, “You’re getting the drinks in, remember!”

“Only if you win.”

Hange waved him off with a throaty laugh. The burly recruit eyed Hange with some confusion as she wandered closer, pausing briefly to tug her goggles off and chuck them over to Nanaba, who caught them deftly and shoved them into her back pocket.

Levi dipped slowly into a crouch, gaze following Hange’s idle path into the centre of the ring. He’d sooner shit his pants than admit it out loud, but Hange, despite all her pestering and prying and endless racket, still intrigued him. He found himself watching her often, across the mess hall, out in the courtyard, zipping through the trees during regular training drills, or else tuning into the sound of her voice while she talked Erwin’s ear off about some bullshit theory or another.

He preferred keeping Hange at arms length, but the distance made it difficult to get a good read on her. Levi had tried valiantly to ignore her existence as much as possible, but there was something about Hange that captured his attention time and time again. Something in her wide smile and bright eyes, her long, lean frame, in the way she carried herself, made his gut uncomfortably warm and tight, at times. Levi didn’t particularly enjoy this brand of curiosity.

Hange stretched her arms over her head with careless ease, popping her spine and rolling her shoulders with an easy, careless grace. If she sparred with the same manic fervor she slayed titans, she’d stand no chance against this soldier bare-handed—for all Hange was tall, she was too slight to take the great oaf out by strength alone.

The lumbering recruit seemed to have come to the same conclusion. He leered, mopped sweat from his heavy brow and blew snot out one of his nostrils. Levi’s lip curled in disgust. Hange’s grin broadened.

“You need a break before we go? Grab some water? Take a piss? I can wait.” She said, bracing her hands on her hips. The recruit’s knuckles cracked as he clenched his fists. He squared himself, and Hange shrugged. “Take that as a no. Alright then.”

Hange planted her feet, weight on her front leg and arms drawn up in defense. For a moment, the pair of them stood tense and still. And then Hange lunged.

Her opponent reacted in kind. He barrelled forwards, shoulder low, ready to plow Hange’s smaller frame right back out of the circle as soon as she locked with him—but at the last moment, Hange stepped cleanly to one side. She teetered on the balls of her feet, centring her weight while the soldier skidded to a halt, kicking up great clouds of dirt and throwing his weight back, barely stopping inside the ring. Hange blew her fringe out of her face.

“Damn. I was banking on a big bastard like you taking longer to stop.” Despite the setback, Hange’s smile was manic. She lunged again, but this time the soldier held back. There was some satisfaction in his caution, and Levi was pleasantly surprised at the way Hange weaved around his haphazardly thrown punches, quick on her feet, efficient in a way Levi hadn’t expected. His eyes were drawn to the bulge of muscle in her calves, in her thighs as she propelled herself around inside the ring. His gaze lingered on her back and shoulders as she threw her punches, thick knots swelling beneath smooth, tan skin.

The crowd hissed as one when the huge recruit landed a fist square into Hange’s gut. She buckled over his arm, air gusting out of her, but she sprung back smartly out of his reach while she caught her breath. Her gaze turned steely as she looked up. Sharp. Calculating. She wiped spit from the corner of her mouth with the back of her wrist. Exertion had flushed her face and sweat glistened on her brow, running in thin rivulets over her cheek, her jaw, down the column of her throat to pool in the dips at her collar. Levi’s stomach tightened, heat flooded his face.

Hange’s chest heaved. In the quiet that had fallen around them, he could hear each rasp of her breath, quick and catching in her throat. Strands of hair hung wild and loose around her face, damp with sweat, sticking to her brow and the side of her neck. Thin veins protruded on her forearms, wrapping around tense, twitching muscle as she flexed and clenched her fingers, gathering herself. Levi swallowed, his mouth painfully dry.

Hange held her ground, this time. She squared her feet, but waited in place, eyes locked on her target. The recruit kept his distance. His trepidation demonstrated one thing—he was marginally smarter than Levi had originally given him credit for. The change in his challenger's tactic made him think.

Unfortunately, Hange was smarter. And faster.

She darted around behind him and cut the heel of her hand up under one side of his jaw. His head snapped sideways but a great meaty foot slammed flat into the dirty, keeping him from toppling over. If Hange were a more desperate fighter, she might make the mistake of hitting him again—but she predicted him perfectly. To counterbalance, he threw his weight back round, twisting towards her. Hange sunk low, jammed her leg against the back of his calf and caught his arm in both her hands, and with a loud grunt and a solid heave, Hange pulled him over her shoulder. His back hit the ground with a resounding thud and a huge huff of fine dust.

Hange straightened up. The crowd erupted with cheers, and Hange smiled, delighted, as she offered the soldier a hand and yanked him up from the ground. She pulled the hem of her shirt up to wipe the sweat from her eyes, exposing her flat stomach and the grid of muscle bunching there, tightening with each panted exhale. Levi’s gaze caught on the waistband of her pants, slung low on her hips, exposing a defined V that dipped out of sight beneath the fabric. An involuntary groan slithered out of Levi’s throat. He masked it with a quick, gruff cough, and took a few long gulps from his water.

The circle of onlookers disintegrated slowly. Mike and Nanaba approached Hange with small, proud smiles, Mike clapping her between the shoulders. Hange strapped her goggles back into place and took the water bag Nanaba offered her with a grateful smile, swigging greedily from it. Levi watched the way her throat bobbed with each swallow, eyes stuck on the hinge of her jaw where skin pulled tight over sharp bone. His tongue darted out to lick involuntarily at his dry lips.

Hange swilled the gritty dirt from her mouth with one last mouthful of water and spat it out. Saliva dripped from her full lower lip onto her chin. Levi forcibly pulled a face—he should be disgusted, because she's fucking disgusting. He schooled his features into his signature look of distaste, just in case anybody caught him looking at her. Hange licked her lip with a grin, tongue red and wet against sharp, white teeth.

"Good fight, Captain?"

Levi trained his gaze intensely forward. Erwin had snuck up on him. He grunted, and sipped slowly at his water.

"Hange's full of surprises, as always."

Another noncommittal hum. Levi rolled his eyes up and to the side to where Erwin stood, arms crossed over his chest, taking in the scene. Levi clicked his tongue loudly and drew himself up to his feet.

"She's an idiot," Levi said. "He would've beat her to shit if he caught her."

"Mm. But he didn't."

"Lucky."

Erwin looked down at him with his brows raised. "Not skillful?"

Levi shrugged. He caught another glimpse of Hange between the dispersing soldiers—she had shed her vest completely now, and flung it over one muscle-bound shoulder, one hand braced on her cocked hip while the other articulated wildly in the air. She was still all smiles, the sun glinting from her goggles when she turned her head this way and that, threw it back in a laugh that carried over the space between them. Her chest was bound tight in a breast band and her stomach, all subtle lines and lean muscle, defined sharply as she cackled, bunching and shifting beneath her sweat-shiny skin.

"She's fast."

"She fights smart." Erwin smirked. "If a little dirty."

Levi would never have called Hange's technique dirty. He'd seen his share of dirty fights. He'd been in enough of them; Hange using her wit in lieu of matched strength was strategic. It was fair. Dirty was reserved for knives and broken bottles, and extra hands hidden away in dark corners.

"It was a stupid risk," Levi said, in favour of the compliment. "If he'd had two brain cells to rub together she'd never stand a chance."

"You're not giving her enough credit. You think Hange would pick a fight if she didn't think she could win it?"

"Yes," Levi said without pause. He had seen one close call too many because Hange had thrown herself in the path of one of the freakier titans, without a single thought for the consequences. Erwin chuckled quietly at his side and shrugged.

"It's nice that you care about her, I suppose."

"Who said I gave a shit about what trouble that freak gets herself into?"

Erwin said nothing more. There was an irritating smirk pulling at half his mouth. Levi curled his lip up in anger and turned to storm away, when a loud voice rang out behind him.

"Erwin! Levi!"

Levi tensed. He turned slowly back around and eyed Hange as she approached, still barefoot, still shirtless, still glistening under the afternoon sun. Her skin was mottled with dirt, lines smudged on her face where she had fruitlessly wiped the sweat away. Up close, Levi could see the way the military issue pants clung to her legs. The fabric was thin and flexible, ideal for use with the manoeuvre gear. It hugged her thighs in a way that made Levi's stomach flip. He ran his tongue over his teeth and looked somewhere past her right hip.

"Came to watch, Commander?" Hange stopped in front of them, hands planted firmly on her hips.

"Had to see what all the fuss was about. Who's round is it?"

Hange jerked her thumb over her shoulder towards Mike. Try as he might, Levi couldn't keep his eyes off of her for long—he found himself staring, transfixed, at the way her bicep swelled when her arm curled. He followed the line of her arm to her shoulder, and across her collar, all the way down to the fabric of her chest band before he caught himself. Face hot and gut tingling, he turned his face to the side.

"Big idiot never wins," Hange said.

"Rude."

Levi glanced up. Mike had arrived at Hange's shoulder, floppy hair falling over his eyes, but he wasn't looking at Hange or at Erwin. He stared at Levi with a horrible, smug expression. Levi scowled at him and shifted uncomfortably, surreptitiously hanging his water bag in front of his crotch to adjust his pants.  Fucking ridiculous. Half hard like a horny teenager.

"New bet," Mike said. "Fight Levi next. I'll buy Sina's finest vine if you kick his tiny ass."

Hange shot him an open, considering look, cocking her head. "You know, I've never seen you spar before."

Levi made a gruff noise in the back of his throat. He felt uncomfortably beneath her intense stare, like one of her specimen samples, pinned and mounted. Exposed. His groin tightened at the unbidden thought. After a moment's consideration, Hange shot him a sunny smile and threw her arm over his shoulder, jerking him into her side.

"I'll need a few practice rounds first. See what I'm working with. You'll do it, right, Levi?"

"Fuck off."

Levi kept his hands clenched around the neck of his water bag. Hange smelled strongly of sweat, salty and earthy from the dirt clinging to her skin. Gross. But to his own mortification Levi found himself drawing a deep, unsteady breath through his nose. Warmth flooded his gut. Hange felt hot against him, and solid, strong. The arm hooked around his neck held him tight, and the thigh pressed against his own felt like rock, unyielding.

Levi's mind offered him obscene involuntary thoughts, of digging his fingers into her thighs until the flesh bruised white under the pressure, using that firm grip to yank her hips back onto his—

He dug his elbow into her ribs. Hange shimmied away in discomfort, and Levi stepped neatly to the side.

"Mean, Levi," Hange pouted. She rubbed at the sore spot and sighed forlornly. "Sounds like a bust, Mike. We'll settle for Trost's piss water whiskey this time."

Hange shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Are you two coming? It's on Mike."

"Oi."

Mike's fingers pinched at Hange's waist for her cheek. Levi stared at the spot where they gripped her, and his own grip around the water bag twitched and tightened. Her skin looked soft, and Mike touched her so easily, unbothered by the way her firm body felt in his hands. A rush of white hot envy pulsed through him, then. Levi struggled to swallow it down.

"Can't," Erwin said. "I have early meetings and I know too well what the three of you are like."

Hange shot him a wicked smile. "Excellent company?"

"Terrible influences. Levi will go though, I'm sure."

Hange turned his way again, a bright  hopeful look on her face.

"Like hell."

Hange's shoulders dropped. She recovered from her disappointment quickly enough, slinging her arm around Nanaba's neck instead, and clenching her fist into the back of Mike's shirt. "More for us then! We'll be at Smokey’s, if you change your minds!"

Hange dragged her friends around and the three of them set off in the opposite direction, to the place Hange had abandoned her boots. Levi looked slyly at Erwin, then back at Hange's retreating form. He bit back a groan when she bent over to scoop up her discarded shoes, cloth pulling sinfully tight over her ass as she did.

“You shouldn’t stare so much, Levi.” Erwin had a small smirk on his face, watching Levi out of the corner of his eye. “It makes it seem like you might be interested in her.”

Levi glowered up at Erwin, cheeks flushing. “Mind your damn business.”

Erwin held his hands up in placation. “I just thought I’d let you know. In case you didn’t want anybody getting the wrong impression.”

Levi wanted to punch the sly, shit-eating grin off of Erwin’s face. He turned sharply on his heel instead, throwing the darkest look he could muster for good measure, and stormed past the small crowds of recruits, lazily getting back to their own sparring practice.

**

Levi stepped under the dribbling shower head, cursing as the tepid water slipped through his hair and down the back of his neck. Most days he grumbled at the temperature, but between the scorching summer sun and the relentless heat burning low in his belly, Levi was thankful for the chill.

He knocked his forehead to the cool tile wall and stared down at his stubbornly hard cock.

He had escaped to the privacy of the officers bathroom as soon as he left Erwin, locking himself in the stall and willing his erection to subside, but no matter what unappealing images he focused on, Levi couldn't wish the damn thing away. The skin of his neck tingled where Hange's arm had wrapped around him. He could still feel the heat of her on his thigh, smell the sweat on her skin.

Levi growled in frustration, slamming a palm roughly into the wall. This entire situation was foreign to him. Levi prided himself on very little, but he had thought that he, at least, had some substantial control over his own body. He knew with some base instinct how to move it, how to utilise it and make every move to the best of his advantage in any situation. He had trained it well, built powerful muscles and honed sharp reflexes. Levi had never found himself so out of control of it, before.

He grabbed the soap and scrubbed roughly at his hair. Cleaning was always a cathartic exercise, a release of stress. Levi washed the sweat and dirt from his scalp and ran the soap over his face, his shoulders and arms, down his chest and low on his belly. His fingers trailed over the thin trail of hair beneath his naval. Muscle twitched beneath skin. His cock throbbed for attention.

Fucking Hange. Somehow she was a pest even now, when she was nowhere to be seen, out drinking away Mike's measly dividends in some sleazy back alley bar.

Try as he might, Levi couldn't shake the image of her sparring out of his head. No matter what he did to divert his attention, she crept her way back in, glistening skin and strong muscle, mussed hair and heavy breaths. Levi ground his forehead into the tile and clenched his jaw, hand still low on his belly. He wasn’t some fucking pervert, he didn’t make a habit of jerking off over his comrades and he didn’t particularly want to start now—and about Hange of all people.

In fact, Levi didn’t make a habit of jerking off much at all. Now and then, a quick, perfunctory thing, to relieve a little tension, blow off steam. But there was never a great desire behind it, never this insistent, unwavering need. This feeling was new. It was infuriating.

Recognising that he was fighting a losing battle, Levi sighed and closed his eyes. He let his hand wander lower, gripping his length and stroking over it. His belly tightened and his hips pressed helplessly forward into his fist. A low moan bled out of his throat.

It should have been easy to make this quick. To rush to the finish, clean up and pretend it never even happened, but every flash of shiny bronze skin or shifting muscle made him pause, guilt pooling like acid in his stomach. It was just so hard not to think about her. Impossible Not when he could so clearly picture the way those thighs might feel curled up around his hips, hard, firm, holding him close; not when he could so vividly hear her heavy, panted breaths in his ear, and the choked moans bleeding up from low in her throat.

The shower sputtered overhead. Levi drew his palm over the flushed head of his cock, smearing the thick bead of pre-come over his hand, gliding it down over his shaft. He wondered, idle and shame-faced, how Hange’s hand would feel wrapped around him. She has calluses, like him, but her fingers are longer and rougher than Levi’s, and would she grip him as firmly? Would she tug at him roughly, make him hiss and twitch under her touch, or would she treat him with the same reverence she does her titan samples—slow, methodical, analytical. Trail a line up the underside of him, from root to tip, maybe press her nail into his slit just to see the way he squirms.

Levi thumbed at his slit, too, and aborted a loud, choked groan at the sensation. He could imagine the way Hange would toy with him all too well; the glint in her eye as she catches the fluid leaking from him, spreading it around with the tip of her finger and revelling in the way his cock jumps, oversensitive. Draw her slick finger up to her mouth, maybe, push it past her plump lips and lave her tongue over the digit, tasting him. Levi sucked in a shuddering breath, hips bucking.

Maybe she’d taste more. Lay herself down between his legs, palms pushing his thighs apart to make room for her broad shoulders. She’d tease him, brat that she is, trail her lips across his lower belly, barely a whisper of a touch, not nearly enough—nip her sharp teeth into the pale flesh of his inner thigh and suck at the skin until blood pooled beneath it, red welts that pulse and throb when she runs her tongue over them.

Levi nudged the head of his cock against his tight, closed fist, pushed into the squeezing grip as he conjured lude pictures of Hange with her lips pressed against him, suckling at his head languidly, until Levi raked his fingers into her scruffy hair and applied enough pressure to coax her down. He fucked into his own fist with a breathy moan, squeezing his eyes closed. In his head, she takes him right to the back of her throat, laves her tongue over him and swallows him down, and her mouth is all hot and tight and the way she moans vibrates right through him—the thought alone sent a zing of pleasure racing up his spine.

Levi’s knees trembled beneath him. He braced himself on the shower wall and stroked himself faster, huffing heavy, unsteady breaths through his nose with his lip caught between his teeth, biting hard enough to sting.

Hange would stop, if he got too close. Drag her lips over the head of his cock and slip him out of her mouth. She's all wicked, challenging smiles, in his head, eyes blown wide when Levi pushes her back onto the bed and crawls over her. Her blunt nails would claw at his back as he sucks hot, open kisses on her belly, scrapes his teeth over the peak of bone at her hips. She'd tunnel her fingers into his hair and push his face lower, use the strength of her thighs to trap him between her legs. Needy. Unreserved.

And when he's had his fill, left her spent and trembling, he would nudge her legs apart and settle his hips between them. Slide his palms over the smooth skin, dig the blunt tips of his fingers into the tense, shivering muscle. Its so fucking easy to imagine the way Hange would look, splayed out on his bed. Her long body stretched out across the mattress, fingers clutching at the sheets as he teases the head of his cock against her—so fucking wet for him—and pins her hips down with a palm pressed low on her belly. The muscle would quiver under his touch.

There was no room left in him for guilt, now. Only the bright spark of pleasure like flint in his gut, striking and catching fire as he pictured just how hot and tight she would feel wrapped around him. She'd throw her head back against the pillows, exposing the long line of her throat to Levi's hungry lips and tongue and teeth, and he would fold over her and fuck in deep, until their hips are flush and Hange is panting raggedly into his ear. The way she whines his name is sinful, high in her throat, and breathless. Desperate.

She would grip white-knuckled at the sheets as Levi rolls his hips into hers. Plant clumsy, hungry kisses against his jaw, lips wet and trembling—and she'd lick into his mouth, when he's close enough, draw him into an intoxicating kind of kiss. Levi jerked himself quick and uneven, gut clenching, imagining the way Hange's legs would squeeze hard at his hips to keep him close while he fucks her. Her breath would hitch as he grinds down into her, strong arms wrapping around his neck to keep him close as she chokes out his name, all high and airy in her throat when he tucks his hips close and pushes impossibly deeper.

Levi sucked in quick, heavy breaths. His hips stuttered forward, clumsily meeting his own unsteady strokes as his groin tightened—the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter until the tension broke, and Levi came with a muffled grunt, spilling obscenely against the tile wall.

He stood still for a long while, catching his breath. The subsiding pleasure made room for shame; guilt and embarrassment flooded into the empty space, making his face hot and his stomach knot unpleasantly. He felt dirty. Some creep, unable to control his most basic urges. He scrubbed the wall down thoroughly and washed himself again, but stood in the cubicle for a long while even after the water shut off.

Worse still, he felt unsatisfied. The orgasm had relieved some of the building pressure, but it had awakened some terrible hunger, and an awful realisation.

He wanted Hange. He wanted Hange.

Fuck.

#ask #snk #levihan #my writing #thank you so much for this one!! it was a lot of fun hehe #I am trying my best to keep these a *little* shorter since my inbox is filling up hjkh #and I want to get through as many prompts as I can!! #this was supposed to end after erwin politely Exposed him but I couldn't resist~