#and who genuinely likes her and her music

[aninipanin1]

How about Young manager with ADHD (continuously gets lost within Blue Lock, interrupts Ego using the PA system (accidentally) about trivial things, misplaces objects, rather naive etc),,, lol

LOST SHEEP

Notes: I personally do not have ADHD and my knowledge about it is quite small, so please forgive me if I misrepresent it here! I do not have any intentions of doing so, and if I do make some mistakes, please let me know! I am genuinely interested in being much more knowledgeable about this topic. Thank you!

"Y/n-chan...? What are you doing there..?"

Hiori asked, blinking at the rather bizarre scene in front of him. The midfielder just finished his daily training routines when he stepped inside of the laundry room to place his laundry basket.

But when he did walk in, he found their precious manager crouched down, hugging your legs as your eyes focused intensely at the small window of the washing machine, eyes boring at the spinning clothes inside the contraption.

In fact, you were too focused to even notice or hear the music of the other machines that alerted the room about how the process was done. You were just sitting there, staring, eyes blinking rarely, as if the rotation of the washing machine was a rare circus show to your eyes.

Everyone in the facility knew of your...tendencies and are more than understanding and ready to help you return your attention to whatever you were currently doing. Hiori was no different as he approached your crouched figure and lightly held your shoulder to take your attention back, but he made sure to be gentle enough to not scare you.

"Y/n-chan, earth to Y/n-chan. Are you okay?" He said in the softest voice he can muster, his hands supporting your crouched figure that almost lost its balance. You looked a bit dazed still from your previous episode, blinking at the sudden interruption. Turning to the blue-haired player, you tilted your head.

"Hiori-kun? What are we doing here...? What's happening?"

"Everything is fine, Y/n-chan. You just got a bit distracted with the washing machine." He explained, raising one of his hands to your hair, softly patting it in a comforting manner. He guided you up from your position and helped with the laundry that had long been done.

"Oh, I didnt notice that the rest were done..." you said in realization, looking at the washing machine with wide eyes. Hiori, who could not help himself, pinched one of your cheeks.

"Its fine, let's just get the rest of the laundry and hang it up, yeah?"

'Geez, she's too cute to be even real...' he inwardly gushed.

"What do you mean you can't find her?" Ego said, glaring at a worried Anri the moment he received the news. Apparently, you have been missing for more than an hour now, with no one from any stratum knowing where you were or even seeing you pass by.

"I'm a little worried. We all know how she gets when she's super distracted."

Ego sighed, rubbing his temple and not even adjusting his glasses that fell off the bridge of his nose. Out of everyone in there, he knew, especially how you can get. Being the one you always worked alongside with, there were times when you would be too focused on something trivial like a moving object or a rather miniscule detail that you would end up forgetting everything you were currently and supposed to be doing.

Now, most of the time, he encourages this. Ego cannot count how many times you ended up helping him and the players as a whole because your fixations on even the most minute of details always ended up being the root cause of a problem.

Hence, why, starting then, he always trusted your mini hyperfixations, no matter how dumb it may sound. You were naive, yes, but you are also a genius, something most people around you know of. So, early on, Ego trusted these said instincts and fixations and revolving them into something that would benefit everybody.

However, there are times like these where those hyperfixations end up disadvantageous. Somehow, you always get lost in the worst times in the worst places possible. Once, the whole facility literally had to work together in order to find you, only for Niko to find you crawling around the storage room near the cafeteria, chasing a ladybug that got your attention while you tried to find your way around the facility again.

There was no time for that kind of thing, however, seeing as to how the day after tomorrow was the last games for the Neo Egoist League, and the staff desperately needed to arrange everything and anything under the sun to make sure the games and livestream are all smooth sailing.

And, they definitely needed you, the overall manager of the teams, there.

"What do we do, Ego-san?"

"I'll look around in my cameras. Try to find her in the usual spot and rooms she crawls and runs on, or those rooms that have a lot of things she can fidget with." He sighed, feeling so done with everything that happened that day.

"Okay. I'll ask help from the rest of the staff."

Just as they were about to start looking for you though, the PA system was suspiciously turned on.

"Huh? It's not even 12 in the noon yet."

Anri said, confused, but all their questioning were answered when they heard the loud feedback of the mic before hearing small scratches and fidgeting noises in the mix. There were even times when they heard some buttons being pushed about. Ego sighed again, but it felt more like a breath of relief.

"That's her. Get that problem child and bring her here." Ego said, spinning his chair to face the cameras. And would you know it, when he went back through the CCTV cameras' previous footages, he saw you in the PA room, fidgeting with the buttons of the system. If he were to be honest, he felt a huge sigh of relief that you were not doing anything that may have harmed you of sort.

After a few minutes, Anri opened the door to his office but alongside her was Don Lorenzo who was smirking as he held you by the scruff of your jacket. Carrying you like a lost kitten, while you only blinked at the predicament you were in, constantly asking Anri about what you were supposed to do again and just babbling stories to Lorenzo and Anri.

"The lost sheep is here." He said, bringing you on the ground as carefully as he could, nodding along to whatever you said about how microphones actually worked and how you were just curious and wanted to experiment if your knowledge and hypothesis were actually real or whatever your mind was thinking about currently.

"Y/n." Ego said a bit sternly, making you stop talking as you looked at the man.

"Try to bring someone with you when you go on your little adventures sometimes." He said before turning his swivel chair once again to face the many monitors, turning his back to you.

"Okay, Ego-san!" You cheered happily, not even bothered about what had just transpired as you went back to your notebook to continue writing and working.

'This girl is going to be the death of me. This is why I don't want kids.' Ego thought, shaking his head.

"Rin-kun. Have you seen Mr. Boba?"

"Hah?"

Rin said, his usual frown in his face. But, this was more of a frown of confusion. He knew you had the habit of naming normal objects with names you found either fitting or adorable, by your standards of course. So, when you approached the striker about a supposed 'Mr. Boba,' he had no idea what the hell you were even looking for.

"Mr. Boba! He has tons of dots that's why he's Mr. Boba." You insisted, your face in a frown because you can't find what you were looking for at all and it was starting to thin your patience a bit.

"Look, I don't know what your Mr. Boba is. What even is it? Is it a hairpin of a boba, or a keychain?" Rin asked. He really did want to help you find Mr. Boba, but you were not exactly helping your case as you kept insisting Mr. Boba was Mr. Boba.

That was until Karasu and Shidou entered the field that helped him and you.

"Y/n-chan! Hi! Why are you sad?!" Shidou asked as he jumped to hug you, before frowning himself, not liking that you were clearly upset by the look at the frown on your face.

"What's wrong, Y/n-chan?" Karasu added, patting your hair.

"Did Rinrin over here make you sad? I'll beat him up for you if you want, Y/n-cha-"

"Shut the fuck up, lukewarm idiot. I didn't do crap." Rin intercepted Shidou, feeling the veins on his head pop.

"No, no, Shidou-san. I just can't find Mr. Boba. What do I do? I need him." The frown on your face deepened into a pout. Karasu was confused as hell who was this Mr. Boba you were talking about. He turned to Rin, who only glared at him.

"I dont know who the hell her Mr. Boba is."

But, Shidou seemed to understand who your Mr. Boba was as the grin on his face widened and he pulled your phone out from your jacket pocket and extended it to your hand.

"Mr. Boba!" You cheered happily at the phone.

"Silly Y/n-chan. It was in your pocket all along!" Shidou said as he pinched your cheeks and stretching it. Meanwhile, Karasu and Rin were just left confused to the side, wondering how the hell was a phone comparable to a boba.

"That's Mr. Boba? What the hell. I don't see it." Karasu commented, but Shidou only stuck his tongue out at both of them.

"You all are blind losers. Can't you see the phonecase design? It has black circles in the bottom and since its a clear case, you can see the (f/c) of the phone! So its like boba." Shidou explained, pointing out the small design of the phone that somehow made it look like a boba in both your and his eyes.

"Yeah! Like Shidou-san said!" You cheered as you hugged the male, thanking him sweetly for helping you find your Mr. Boba.

"I'm surrounded by idiots." Rin said, facepalming as Karasu just laughed.

"Shut the hell up, Rin-rin! You can't say that to Y/n-chan!!!"

"Who said I was also talking about her?"

ADDITIONAL TIME!

Since everyone in the Blue Lock facility found out about your disorder, they became much more protective of you overall.

You are waiting in line for food? No, youre not. Everyone is letting you get your food first.

You have bad time management? They'd help with that. They'll be your personal alarm clock.

You are feeling so bored and want to fidget with something? They'd let you play with their hands while they listened to Ego's damn lectures.

It's all about maintaining your attention span yet enabling you to become a better person as a whole. To improve your mental health and also make you feel that you are more than your disorder.

But, of course, they can't help but spoil you every once in a while. No biggie!

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[liahaslosthermind]

𝑬𝒍𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒂𝒏

Summary: The 4 times the Night Court’s Shadowsinger mentioned… someone, and the first time his family got the promise of an answer. 

Content: Angst, with the promise of future fluff

Warnings: Angst, I like making Azriel sad sorry, I also take the ‘mate talk’ in the Azriel/Nesta/Bryce bonus chapter and rewrite it to fit this story. I also haven’t read CC yet so apologies if Bryce is OOC Azriel x OC [not introduced in this part]

*Slight spoilers for the Azriel/Nesta/Bryce bonus chapter

Bryce turned to the fae female next to her, “You have a mate, don’t you?” Nesta simply nodded in response, a slight smile forming on her face, followed by a deep blush. “Do you?” The red head directed at Azriel.

Nesta’s stomach dropped. She knew it was a sore subject for the Shadowsinger. What with everyone else in his family being mated except for him-

“I do.” He said, a trace of apprehension in his voice. Nesta’s head snapped to face him so quickly that her vision spun for a moment, causing her to stumble.

Regaining her footing, she barked out, “Azriel? What the fuck do you mean?”

The trio stopped walking for a moment, tension settling over the once calm night air. She gave him a demanding, and slightly betrayed, look. Even though his eyes met hers, Azriel kept quiet. Bryce simply looked between the two, face wrinkling in the awkwardness of the moment.

“Ah. A sore subject, I guess?” Bryce laughed, or tried to, it only came out forced and uncomfortable. 

“Who, Az? How come I had no idea? Does anyone know?” There wasn’t anger in her voice, just hurt. 

He had to bite back his usual replies, the ones he gave to his family when they tried to ask questions or bring up the topic without him bringing it up first. Not that he ever did. 

“She’s-” he swallowed. Cauldron, when would he finally be able to talk about her without wishing the world would swallow him whole? “It’s not something I want to discuss right now, especially with present company.” He sent a pointed look at Bryce. He couldn’t hide the misery in his tone this time though as he took a deep breath and continued, “I will tell you about her, Nes. One day. I’d just rather do it on my own terms. On my own time.” Nesta opened her mouth, seconds away from arguing, when he put a hand on her shoulder, “Please.” he begged, softly. 

The glimmer of silver in his eyes caught her off guard, gave her such a knee jerk reaction of protectiveness that she gave him a crushing hug. It was strange, this feeling. Azriel, the broody, closed off, terrifying, annoyingly perceptive, kind, and unbelievably loving friend she never knew she needed had just revealed a part of himself she could tell he kept locked away for good reason. The thought that even the mention of his mate could bring him to tears made her heart break in a way she thought impossible after all she had been through. 

She took a deep breath as she pulled away, “When you’re ready,” she agreed.

He smiled back at her, while it was genuine, one of the few he reserved for his family, there was still insurmountable pain in his eyes. 

Nesta turned back to Bryce, “Can you play more of your music? Just none of that screaming one.” She asked, shaking her head at the memory of the Death Metal genre she hadn’t liked when the redhead had played it for them. 

She smiled softly as she felt Azriel squeeze her hand in a silent Thank you before he let go. 

The High Lord sat, feet propped up on his desk. “When do you head out for Rosehall?” He asked.

Azriel, standing by the window to the right of his brother, answered, “The morning after Solstice.” Rhysand grimaced when he heard the mask of indifference his Spy Master had in his voice. “I still need to pick up a gift before I go.”

Rhys took it for the invitation it was. “Would you buy her something from me? On my account this time.” He tried to put on his commanding-High-Lord voice as he said it, but he knew very well that Azriel wouldn’t listen to the last part of his request even as his brother smiled in agreement as he walked out of the room, sending an inclination of goodbye to his High Lady in the chair across from her mate. 

“Rosehall? What female is he visiting the day after Solstice?” Feyre spoke into her mate’s mind. 

Despite Rhys’ usual inability to keep anything from his mate, he couldn't bring himself to explain, couldn’t bring himself to cross the very clear lines his brother had set all those years ago. 

“It's not my story to tell. And don’t ask someone else, if any of them know, they also won’t talk.” 

Certainly not the answer she had expected, as was evident by the look on Feyre’s face.

“And if I ask Azriel?” she inquired.

“It will just bring up things he isn't ready to share. He will come to you- come to us- some day.” ‘One day’ Azriel had promised his family long ago, long before their family had been as big as it was now. “I just pray it's under better circumstances.” 

Feyre froze, feeling the weight of mixed negative emotions flowing down from her mate’s side of the bond. For once, she was even more confused after asking Rhysand for more information. 

“Well, I believe we’ve reached the threshold of faked amiability before one of us attacks the other. We should quit while we’re ahead.” Eris said as he stood up from his chair, starting to grab his papers without so much as a glance to his reluctant hosts. Even years after their alliance was set in stone with the agreement from the Night Court to back Eris’ claim to his father’s throne, even after fighting beside them in war, these faked niceties could only go on for so long before the claws came out. 

No one in the Night Court’s Inner circle could say there was anything but relief to see the Autumn Court’s High Lord walk away. But before they could let out a breath of relief, Eris stopped and turned to the Shadowsinger. 

“I have received word that your… gift has been finished. I will send someone to get it to you within the week.” 

Azriel’s head quickly snapped to Eris, “And they were able to meet all my requests?” He asked, not caring that everyone else in the room watched the interaction with fierce intrigue. 

The eldest living Vanserra boy scoffed, “I assured you they’d be able to.” Azriel let out a relieved breath at that. While he’d known Eris’ court capable of such a thing, it wasn’t much more difficult than lesser magics, but hearing it confirmed ignited hope he didn’t know he still carried.

“Thank you. She’ll love it.” The Spy Master replied earnestly, much to Eris’, as well as the rest of the Inner Circle’s, shock. 

The red haired fae simply schooled his features and nodded in response before winnowing away. 

Despite the heaviness all the secrets and questions caused, everyone remained silent as they watched Azriel slip out of the room. 

The dining room had been filled with loud chatter for the weekly family dinner. Love filled teasing and relentless jokes put everyone in a good mood. Nothing felt better to the Night Court’s Inner Circle than being all together. Unfortunately, it had to come to an end. 

“I’ll be leaving for a few days.” Azriel told Rhysand, who was sitting to his left at the head of the table. “I’ll be back for Solstice.” He quickly added. 

“I thought you were leaving the day after?” 

“I was, but the package I had been waiting on came, and I’d like to deliver it as soon as possible. I’ll drop your gift off too.” With that, Azriel got up, nodding a quick goodbye to his family, before disappearing into his shadows.

It wasn’t a request to have a few days off. He hadn’t asked if his High Lord could spare not having his Spymaster for a little. He didn’t even wait for any sort of goodbye from the rest of his family. He just left, the house sending his place setting away to be cleaned, as if he had never been there in the first place. 

Once again, everyone had questions, concerns, for their friend. But no one spoke up, as per usual. 

Until the one fae in the room with truly no information in the matter grew concerned enough with everyone’s immediate change in attitudes. 

“Where is he going?” Elain asked, looking between her friends and family. 

She saw on everyone's faces, in their eyes that refused to meet hers, that no one would tell her. Till she sent a look, full of concerned innocence, to Cassian. 

“Rosehall” He blurted out. “Or at least, I assume that's where he is going.” The last part was directed towards his older brother. 

“Where is this Rosehall?” Feyre asked, feeling he invitation Elain’s question had opened into the untouchable subject. 

The High Lady, like her second oldest sister, sent a look to Rhys, knowing he'd break for her under an embarrassingly small amount of pressure. 

“None of us know,” he gave in, “He goes at seemingly random intervals. Sometimes he’s there, often, for months. Then he will go quite a while without any visits.”

“Is it his mate? Is that who he is seeing?” Nesta inquires. 

The word seems to suck all the air out of the room. His mate. Azriel’s mate. Their brother’s mate.

Nesta’s stomach drops at the looks she receives from Cassian and Rhysand. 

They didn’t know. 

As she opens her mouth to speak, she’s cut off by a palm smacking the table.

“Enough! You all know damn well this isn’t what he would want. The only reason you all seem so comfortable talking about it is because he's gone, too preoccupied to leave a shadow behind.” Mor argues. “He has asked one thing of us in the 500 years he has been by our side, to let him- let them- be.”

With that, she winnowed out of the room, leaving a suffocating mix of guilt, confusion, and concern behind. 

Everyone could feel his presence the second he got back to the house. The light and happy Solstice air seemed to vanish in an instant. The shadows suddenly alive and wreathing. 

Rhys and Cassian had gotten up to check on their brother. While he had said he’d be gone till Solstice, they had assumed he would be there the full day to celebrate with everyone. But he had missed celebrations, for both Solstice and Feyre’s birthday, had missed dinner, and had sent no indication that he was even alive. His mental walls had been as fortified as ever, not letting Rhysand nor Feyre in the numerous times they had tried to check in. 

Their walk over to their brother’s room became a run, followed by the rest of the family, as they heard a loud crash. 

The room was dark, but they could make out the faint outline of the broken mirror and Shadowsinger standing in front of it, holding his hand as blood seemed to drip from a wound. In the dark, the sight was unsettling, but in the light, it was far worse. 

Cassian moved quickly, leaving Rhysand and the rest of the Inner Circle by the door in stunned silence. 

“Woah-” Cassian said as he lifted Azriel’s hand, causing his brother to pull back in startled shock. He hadn’t known they were coming. Hadn’t sensed their presence even then they were right in front of him.

“It’s okay, Az. But we need to clean out the wound. Make sure there aren't any shards in-” The general stopped as he looked at the Spymaster, seeing the tears streaming down his usually stone cold face. 

All he could do was help him sit down as Mor, seemingly better equipped to handle the situation, came over to kneel in front of her long time friend. 

“Az?” She took his uninjured hand in hers, her other hand going to his face to wipe away the tears. “Come on, maybe you shoul-”

“She’s gotten worse.” He admitted, his voice noticeably wobbling, “So much worse, Mor.” 

Mor quickly looked at everyone else, seeing the shock, the empathy, and worse of all, the pity. She knew more than the others, not the full story, not even close, but enough to know that their reactions were part of why he kept all of it a secret. He couldn’t handle their emotions on top of his.

By the time she looked back, she saw that Azriel had noticed it too. She could see him shrinking back into himself, trying to hide everything. 

She couldn’t let it happen again. 

“Let me in, Azriel. Don’t pretend, don’t go through 200 more years of this.” She pleaded. Luckily, this seemed to pull him back out. “Let us all in, please?”

“I can’t- I don’t want pity.” He admitted.

Rhysand spoke up this time. “Is that what you think this is? Just pity? Az, come on. We all love you, we want you to be happy. But we don’t want fake happiness. Seeing you like this makes us all upset, because we love you. Please, let us prove it. Let us in.” Rhysand begged. 

Azriel gave them all a onceover, emotion showing so clearly in his face, in his eyes, that no one seemed to be able to breathe. 

He took a deep breath before speaking up, “Tomorrow. I’ll explain- show you all, tomorrow. For now, I’d just like to celebrate Solstice, and your birthday, Feyre, with my family.” 

The air lightened up a little bit at the promise. Tomorrow, they’d all face what Azriel had been dealing with alone for 200 years. But tonight, they would all celebrate Solstice, the return of light and promise of a brighter future, as a family. 

[adieutristana]

Hi! Can you make arcane characters x reader who is afraid of touch?

of course! thank you for the request <3

characters included; jinx, vi, mel, sevika, caitlyn

summary; arcane women with a girlfriend who is afraid of touch.

tags/warnings; hurt/comfort, (vague) mentions of past trauma, fluff, mentions of poor mental health

men dni.

jinx;

✧.* jinx is pretty understanding when it comes to fear of being touched. she is as well, for the most part. when it comes to a relationship, i think jinx would be incredibly touchy, but if you tell her that you're afraid and/or uncomfortable she'll give you the space that you need. yes, jinx enjoys physical touch, but she doesn't want to overstep any boundaries.

✧.* jinx will probably resort to words to show her love instead, though she's not the best with them. saying sweet things like "i missed ya, trinket! i've got something to show ya, yeah?" or "oh gods, you just look so pretty, it's impossible!"

✧.* jinx is the textbook definition of clingy. look up the word in a dictionary, and her face will be underneath. so she won't physically hang off your arm if you're afraid of touch, but she'll still follow closely behind you like some kind of lost puppy. it's endearing, honestly. jinx just needs to be close to you somehow at all times.

✧.* the closeness reassures her. she's used to everyone she lets in, everyone she cares about dying. so to share that proximity with you and have the reassurance that you're here, alive, with her, it means a lot more than jinx thinks you'll ever understand.

✧.* like i said, jinx is the same way to an extent. touch-starved, but also won't let anyone close enough to touch her. so when she met you, let you in and began to trust you, part of jinx did expect that touch. you're in a relationship, after all. but once you explain to her, she understands wholeheartedly!

✧.* also constantly showing her love through gifts and grandiose gestures. makeshift firework shows that are a fire waiting to happen? yep! music boxes that play your favorite songs (although slightly out of tune)? also yes! tagging walls in the undercity with your initials together in hearts! you bet! jinx will go above and beyond, she doesn't want to scare you off by doing something she knows you're afraid of

✧.* on the off chance you do let her touch you she'll be making sure you're alright, but also very very happy for those little moments.

✧.* pressing soft kisses to your cheeks while whispering, "you okay, sweetness?"

✧.* jinx doesn't really question you on these things, she just lets it be. if you say you're afraid of touch, then so be it. not a problem for her.

✧.* "come with me!" she'd say, using her hand to wave you over. "what's this about, jinx?" you'd ask, quirking an eyebrow. jinx would be giggling all the way, shaking her head and nearly skipping towards her destination. "don't worry about it, toots! you'll love it, i promise!"

✧.* knowing jinx, she's probably dragging you to the last drop after hours so she can show you how she decorated it just for you (don't question how she managed to pull that off), or she's taking you to her hideout to show you some of the gifts she made you. she's just so excitable around you, she can't help it

vi;

✧.* vi is a little confused at first i think, but that's just because of her need for communication and specifics. like yes, you're afraid of touch, but what kind of touch?

✧.* she has a loooot of questions. she's not trying to pry at all, genuinely just trying to understand you and where you're coming from better. is it alright if she hugs you every now and then? can she hold your hand? what don't you want her to do? do you need her to ask to touch you, or not touch you at all?

✧.* literally just doing everything in her power to not scare you off. vi has a good thing going with you, something real. the last thing that she wants is to fuck it up because she couldn't keep her hands off of you

✧.* vi is sooo so good with her words, though. a master at sweet talking you to show her adoration.

✧.* "you look so beautiful right now, y'know that? i mean- you always do, but gods, right now..." or something along the lines of, "look at you, all focused and stuff. you always amaze me, cupcake."

✧.* one of her defaults is that it's a trauma response, mostly because she knows that's most of where her sister's fear of touch comes from. she'll try to approach the subject delicately, letting you know that if you need to talk about anything she's here and she only wants to help. it can come off as slightly patronizing without her meaning to, so it really all depends on how you take it.

✧.* if it is a response, then fine, vi wants to help and support you the best she can. if not, then she backs off still, settling for just doing you favors and vocalizing her love for you

✧.* she will not let you do a damn thing if you're in a domestic situation. vi is so loving and attentive. she will handle the cooking, cleaning, laundry, all that... you just rest!!

✧.* honest to gods, vi is just such a sweetheart. literally whatever makes you happiest and most comfortable is done without question by her.

✧.* on the off-chance that your girlfriend does scare you or accidentally crosses a line, she'll be profusely apologizing. asking if there's anything she can do to make it up to you, this is the absolute last thing she wants.. if you need space, you've got it. need words of reassurance? consider it done. literally anything.

✧.* generally, i'd think vi is touchy but not enough that this would be a problem. she's versatile, she can show her love in a lot of ways!

✧.* "mm.. i'll do your laundry for you tonight. give you some time off." "vi, that's not necessary-" "shh. it's done. see? i'm already on my way, getting your laundry..."

mel;

✧.* honestly a bit confused at first. mel has grown up around war, tragedy, and despair, but she hasn't met many people who are just downright afraid of being touched- even in the midst of chaos.

✧.* she probably immediately goes to thinking it's because of something that's happened, though, only because of the war and tragedy that she's seen. she hasn't seen fear of touch in particular, but mel has seen a lot of things affect a lot of people in different ways. if it is, then she wants to support you, of course. if not, she still will do her best to show her appreciation for you in other ways.

✧.* mel is easily one of the most devoted and gentle lovers ever, and she has so many tricks up her sleeve when it comes to affection. we've already established that she'd be spoiling you constantly, but she'd also be using her words so well. i also think mel might be the type to write you poetry, honestly. is she the best writer? probably not. but damn, she pours her heart into it.

✧.* "hey, darling. i wrote something else for you, see?" she'd say while holding up another slip of paper, just to add to the collection of your endless others. "written just for my dearest girl."

✧.* mel is just so attentive. she'll probably be a bit protective, especially in public. even if it's just a stranger innocently tapping you on the shoulder to ask for directions to the station, she doesn't want you to get scared.

✧.* "aht- i'll handle that. directions, yeah? you'll go straight here, then take a left, and another left right past the council building." all before someone can touch you.

✧.* if you do allow any kind of touch later on, mel will tread lightly. it's not that she thinks you can't handle yourself or you're fragile, but she just wouldn't be able to live with herself if she scared you off somehow or hurt you.

✧.* light caresses to your cheeks, gentle hugs, guiding you by the small of your back, her head on your shoulder or lap. always so careful, but so sweet and loving

✧.* of course mel will have a lot of questions initially, but it's only because of her need for connection and understanding. she doesn't mean to push or prod, she just wants to understand her lover better and know exactly what is and isn't okay. what will make you most comfortable being with her, that's all that she wants

✧.* hands-down the best at comforting you if you do happen to get scared by touch, though it's usually not at her own hands.

✧.* "hey. hey, tell me what happened. i'm right here, you're alright." she'd say, her voice low and soothing. "nothing's gonna hurt you, nothing's gonna touch you. at least not while i'm here. just let me make things better."

sevika;

✧.* i don't think you'd really need to have a conversation with sevika about it. she's intuitive. the first time you flinched from her touch, trying to wrap an arm around your waist, she knew something was up and she backed off. she wouldn't ask, wouldn't push for more information than you're comfortable giving her. something in her tells her that it's a sensitive topic, and asking might make things worse.

✧.* if you want to talk to her about it, the floor is open. you know that she'll listen, she always does. but until then, she won't pry.

✧.* if you do decide to have that conversation with sevika, she'll take in and cling onto every last word. we've established time and time again how loyal and devoted she is, how she'll do anything just to make sure you're content. she'd listen attentively, taking note of every little thing that you say scares you, of every shift in tone of your voice.

✧.* "i... thank you for telling me this." she'd whisper, her eyes locked with yours. "you know you don't have to hide a thing from me, yeah? but i won't ask for more than you wanna tell me, either. just don't hold out on me, dove."

✧.* besides, sevika has a lot of other ways she can show her love to you. that connection can be achieved through other means! late night talks, bringing you to play games of blackjack and poker with her, etc.

✧.* that's actually one of her favorite ways to have fun with you: gambling! as odd as it may sound, it's one of her favorite pastimes, and getting you involved in her world is a big deal for sevika. someone who famously doesn't let anyone in. so for her to play games alongside you when she's typically merciless, giving you tips for your own hand, it's a big deal.

✧.* if you do allow sevika to touch you, it'll be fleeting and soft. almost as if she's afraid. it's only because she wants to ensure your comfort and sanctuary, really.

✧.* light kisses to your jawline as she whispers things like, "look at you, so beautiful," or "my sweet girl, you look tired. let's turn in, hm? i can hold you. or not. your call, dove..."

✧.* like she doesn't need to be told twice that you're afraid. sevika is very good with respect, very good with communication and laying off. she loves you, she doesn't want to make you afraid or uncomfortable at all if she can help it.

✧.* super protective in public, though. if anyone tries to touch you at all, even if just to push past you in a crowded place, she's immediately pushing them away from you and telling them off.

✧.* "hey. you lay off her, ya hear? thought we learned as kids to keep our hands to ourselves."

caitlyn;

✧.* i think caitlyn would also catch on pretty quickly. she'd ask just to be sure, but she's a smart woman. she can take hints, put pieces together, figure things out. the first time you inched away from her touch was coincidence, the second time was anything but.

✧.* naturally, cait brought it up with you when she got a moment that was just you and her. she tries to approach the subject with caution and care, as she doesn't want to scare you off or seem like she's aiming to force information out of you. but she loves you, and she worries.

✧.* "you can tell me things, love. i promise, i won't get angry. whatever it is, you can tell me."

✧.* she's understanding once you do tell her! she's been raised knowing devastation and war, though her upbringing is privileged. she still knows about trauma, about fear, about phobias, all that kind of thing. even if it's just a thing of general anxiety and you not wanting to let people in that way. she won't take it personally, she knows that this is just something innate within some people

✧.* caitlyn will likely resort to her words and acts of service instead. she's constantly doing things for you, trying to make your life easier in any way that she can. if there's some housework you need done, consider it taken care of. if you're feeling hungry, she's cooking your favorite without a second thought.

✧.* she might accidentally touch you without thinking- like a brush against your back or a grasp of your hand, but she immediately pulls back and apologizes the second she realizes what she's doing. she gets the hang of it rather quickly, but she's used to showing physical affection to her family and friends.

✧.* she still loves sharing a bed with you at night, but cait makes it abundantly clear that she doesn't expect you to cuddle up to her, and she won't hold you unless you ask her to. she's perfectly happy having you next to her, just your presence soothes her to sleep.

✧.* "shh... just sleep, dear. i'll be right here. you always look so peaceful when you're at rest, it's beautiful."

✧.* cait is honestly just so sweet and understanding, she'll do anything and everything in her power to make sure that you're at ease!

[iamquiantrelle]

SO INTO YOU ────── iamquaintrelle

# pairings: aurelien tchouameni x black reader (✨💕) # wc: 5.9k

# tags: @sucredreamer @snowseasonmademe @jessnotwiththemess @rougereds @judectrl @mufasathatniggatho @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @ayeshami @greyishbach @haartemis @goldenngt @solidbriii @sailurmewn @bbgkoo @mauvecherie-writes @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro

# summary: you’re a multiple grammy winning artist with a record breaking single based on an embarrassing crush on a footballer & when that single demands visuals who else do you ask to be your video vixen besides said footballer crush? but is he also willing to blow your back out too? ♡ masterlist

You were never drinking tequila again. Ever.

The tequila bottle sat empty on your coffee table like evidence from a crime scene, mocking you with memories of last night's social media bravery. Your Grammy awards caught the morning light, their gold surfaces throwing judgmental sparkles across your living room walls. You'd really done it this time - slid into Aurélien Tchouaméni's DMs like your verified check mark gave you the right to disturb his peace at 2 AM.

Your manager Carmen sat in the armchair across from you, tablet in hand as she went through tomorrow's flight details to Madrid. But your attention kept drifting to your phone, to that cursed Instagram conversation where you'd actually typed out "hey, random question but would you maybe want to be in my music video? no pressure lol" - asking him to star in your video for "So Into You," a song that lived in that dangerous space between confession and plausible deniability.

“Earth to lovergirl,” Carmen's professional tone carried just a hint of amusement. “You good? Or still having flashbacks to drunk-texting one of football's finest?”

His response still sat there in your DMs, casual as anything: “The song that's breaking records? I'd be down. Though I have to ask - any particular reason you thought of me? 😉”

You'd screamed into three different pillows after reading that.

“I still can't believe he said yes,” you mumbled, sinking deeper into the couch as Carmen scrolled through your embarrassing Instagram activity history with restrained glee. The evidence was damning: every single post liked within seconds, story reactions that probably made you look unhinged, the way you'd set notifications for his account months ago after that first video blessed your FYP.

It had been innocent enough at first - a clip of him in a post-match interview, fresh taper fade catching the stadium lights. Something about the way he carried himself, that quiet confidence wrapped in genuine humility, had you hitting that follow button before the video even finished. The way he'd laugh with his whole chest in interviews, how he could switch from intense focus on the field to the sweetest smile off it - you were gone before you even realized you were falling.

Your best friend had watched your descent with barely contained amusement. “Not you making a whole Tumblr shrine," she'd cackled one wine night, scrolling through @tchouamenithoughts. “Day 43 of manifesting Aurélien Tchouaméni to ruin my life’? Girl...”

“Listen,” you groaned now, watching Carmen pull up the same account on her phone, “we all cope differently.”

“Cope? You wrote a whole chart-topping song about how he 'controls the game like he could control your heart.' That's not coping, that's down catastrophic,” she said, maintaining her composure even as her eyes danced with mirth.

She wasn't wrong. You'd lost hours to The Bridge episodes, team interviews, even compilation videos of his best plays. You'd lost count of how many times you'd woken up hot and bothered from dreams featuring that TCHM chain of his dangling above you, his knowing smile as he– nope. Not going there. Not when you were about to meet him in person.

Your phone lit up with a text from an unknown Spanish number:

“Looking forward to finally meeting tomorrow. Been keeping those 2AM DMs for motivation during training 😊 - AT”

“Oh my god,” you breathed, showing Carmen the screen. “He saved the messages.”

“Of course he did,” she said, checking something on her tablet. “You really think he didn't notice how you watch every single one of his Instagram lives? Even the 3 AM ones after matches where he's just vibing to Afrobeats in his gym? Those thirst traps?”

The way he moved to those beats had no business living rent-free in your head like it did. Neither did the way his eyes got soft when he talked about his family in interviews, or how that dangerous half-smirk would appear after a particularly clean tackle. You'd documented it all on your Tumblr, built whole theories around his personality based on how he interacted with teammates, analyzed every public appearance like it was your job.

“What if he found it?" The thought hit you suddenly. “The Tumblr account?”

Carmen's composed expression cracked slightly with a knowing smile. “Girl, if he has, he still said yes to the video. What does that tell you?”

You didn't want to think about what that might mean. Couldn't let yourself hope that maybe he'd noticed you too, that perhaps those quick likes on your Instagram stories weren't just courtesy, that the way he'd immediately responded to your drunk DM meant something.

Tomorrow you'd be in Madrid. Tomorrow you'd see if that confidence you'd analyzed in countless videos translated in person, if his smile was really as dangerous as it seemed through a screen.

“Make sure you pack some lingerie,” Carmen said as she gathered her things, a slight smirk playing at her lips. “Just in case those Tumblr manifestations worked.”

You buried your face in a throw pillow, but your heart was already racing at the possibility.

**************************************************

The Madrid morning sun painted the makeup room in ethereal hues, casting everything in a dreamlike glow that did nothing to settle your nerves. You sat still as the artist perfected your look - soft glam that highlighted your warm brown skin, each baby hair laid with precision, curls falling in a carefully crafted cascade. The "effortlessly gorgeous" aesthetic you'd aimed for had, ironically, required a 5 AM start.

“He's here,” your assistant's voice cut through your reverie, and your heart performed a gymnastics routine worthy of Olympic qualification.

Here's the thing about Aurélien Tchouaméni - all the 4K footage in the world, every professional photograph, every high-definition broadcast couldn't capture what he was in person. The way he commanded space wasn't something a camera could translate.

He had to duck slightly entering the room (had he always been that tall?), the morning light catching him like it knew exactly what it was doing. The fitted white tee and designer jeans he wore were deceptively simple, the kind of casual that required serious thought. That signature "TCHM" pendant caught the light as he moved, the diamond Cuban link chain you'd written dissertations about on Tumblr proving worthy of every analysis. You'd watched enough matches to know his height, studied enough footage to know his build, but something about him actually being there, all 6'2" of him absolutely dominating the space, had your carefully constructed composure threatening to crumble.

“So," he said, that dangerous half-smile playing at his lips as he approached, “you're the one who slid in my DMs at 2 AM?”

The ground could swallow you whole any minute now. His French accent in person was a weapon that should be classified as illegal. “Listen, about that–“

“Nah, don't apologize," he laughed, the sound rich enough to drown in. "It was cute. Especially that part about my ball control being 'unfairly hot.'”

"Please tell me you're joking," you groaned, but you couldn't help smiling. His presence was magnetic - that quiet confidence you'd analyzed through screens somehow even more potent in the flesh.

"Three fire emojis and everything," he grinned, and you noticed his taper fade was fresh, clearly done for the shoot. The chain caught the light again as he leaned slightly closer, shortening the considerable distance between you. "But for what it's worth? Your voice is unfairly hot too.”

Your cognitive functions ceased entirely. The proximity brought his cologne into focus - something expensive and intoxicating that absolutely wasn't helping your ability to form coherent thoughts. The height difference hit differently in person, requiring you to tilt your head back to meet his gaze.

“Five minutes to places!” the director's call pierced through your haze, saving you from having to remember basic language skills.

The shoot itself was a study in sweet torture. For the first time in your career, you found yourself flubbing takes - missing cues, getting lost in moments. You, who prided yourself on one-take perfection, needed multiple runs at the simplest scenes. But how could you focus when he kept looking at you like that? The way his eyes would drift slowly down your body between setups, how his hands would rub together - a tell you'd seen in dozens of post-match interviews when something particularly caught his interest. But then again, Aurélien was known for giving everything his complete attention. You'd watched enough footage to know that.

He played his role perfectly - too perfectly, really. Each take had him hitting his marks with the same precision he showed on the field, but there was something else there. Something in the way his hand would linger just a moment too long when helping you up, how his eyes would catch yours in the monitor playback.

“Last setup!” the director announced, and you silently thanked whatever higher power was listening. Your heart could only take so much.

“So," Aurélien said during the lighting adjustment, his voice dropping to a register that did dangerous things to your pussy. “Since you're such a football fan now... maybe you'd want to come to my match this weekend? VIP seats?”

Your heart stuttered. “Yeah? What if someone recognizes me?”

"Let them," he smiled, and that chain glinted again as he shifted closer. "Maybe I want people to know, especially about that DM.”

You couldn't help laughing despite your burning cheeks. "You're never letting that go, are you?”

"Never," he agreed, then added more softly: "But I'm glad you sent it. Been trying to figure out how to slide in your DMs too, especially after seeing all those likes on my gym posts.”

You looked up at him (way up - seriously, the height difference was doing things to you), catching that dangerous glint in his eye. “Oh….”

"Front row seats," he continued, voice dropping lower. "Right behind the bench. That way I'll know exactly where to look after I score.”

Your heart did another full gymnastic routine. “Pretty confident about that goal, huh?”

"I'm confident about a lot of things," he smiled, and that chain caught the light once more as he leaned down slightly. “Like how good those likes looked on my notifications.”

You were going to pass away on the spot. But then his hand found yours, and that smile softened into something more private, more real. “Sure I’ll go.”

Maybe drunk you had known exactly what she was doing after all.

******************************************

Thank god for these VIP seats because the view? Immaculate.

Grandpa Ancelotti finally put Aurélien in his rightful position and oh my god, watching him command the midfield in person hit so different. TV did not prepare you for this. At all.

The way his orange kit stretched across those shoulders when he'd gesture to teammates? Criminal. And those calves? You'd seen them in videos but in person they were actually unreal. The entire package was just unfair - whoever said football kits weren't flattering had never seen Aurélien Tchouaméni in one. His body was sculptural, all lean muscle and perfect proportions, like god really sat down and took extra time crafting him specifically to ruin your life.

You watched him talk tactics with Jude, all authority and focused energy, and the way he carried himself on the field had you feeling some type of way. His whole demeanor shifted during matches - all business and pure power. The intensity in his eyes when he'd call out positions? Yeah, you were definitely going to need a glass of water.

When he made that assist - a perfect pass that had the crowd screaming - you jumped up cheering before remembering you were supposed to be playing it cool. But how could you when he glanced your way during the celebration with that smile?

Every time he'd body someone off the ball, the way his muscles flexed with the effort... Lord have mercy. You'd really thought writing a song about him was peak down bad but watching him work in person? Your brain was absolutely short-circuiting.

During a water break, he caught your eye and adjusted his shirt - a move you'd seen in countless matches but this time it felt deliberate, just for you. The stadium lights hit his dark skin just right, making him look like he was literally glowing. And that jawline? Sharp enough to cut glass.

The final whistle had you watching his post-match routine like you hadn't already memorized it from videos - the handshakes, the quick interviews, the way he'd run his hand over his fresh fade when downplaying how good he was. But then he looked up at your spot again with that private little smile and yeah... you were absolutely screwed.

Because watching Aurélien Tchouaméni absolutely own the soccer pitch? That wasn't just attraction anymore. That was straight up ruination.

You made it to the designated area and only had to wait around 30 minutes before Aurélien showed up, fresh from the shower, dressed casually but still somehow managing to look like a walking problem. A clean black tee stretched across his chest, showing off the definition of his arms, paired with dark jeans that sat just right on his waist. And the way his chain rested against his collarbone? Yeah, this was dangerous.

“You waited long?” he asked, a lazy smile on his lips as he approached, exuding the kind of confidence that came naturally to him.

“Not really,” you said, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt.

His eyes dragged over you in a way that felt intentional, like he was cataloging every detail. “Good. Would’ve hated to keep you waiting.”

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, but before you could overthink it, he tilted his head. “You hungry?”

You blinked. “Yeah.”

“Come on, let’s get something to eat,” he said, nodding toward the exit.

You followed him out, keeping pace as he led you to his car — his matte black Lamborghini Urus. Of course. He opened the passenger door for you, stepping back just enough to give you space but still managing to be close, like his presence was a gravitational pull.

“You good?” he asked, one brow lifting as you hesitated before getting in.

You nodded quickly, sliding into the plush seat, inhaling the faint scent of leather and his cologne —clean, expensive, and entirely him. He shut the door gently before walking around to the driver’s side, settling in smoothly before starting the engine. The deep purr of the car filled the quiet, and when he rested one hand on the wheel, the other on the gear shift, your eyes traced the veins in his forearm, the way his fingers flexed slightly.

Yeah, this was setting you off.

Aurélien drove with an effortless confidence, maneuvering through Madrid’s streets like he’d done it a million times — which, of course, he had. As he looped around the Bernabéu, he nodded toward the stadium. “You should come back for a tour.”

Your head turned sharply toward him. “What?”

He glanced at you, amused by your surprise. “You liked watching me play, right?”

Like was an understatement. Watching him on the pitch, commanding the game with precision and strength, was one thing. But now, seeing him here, driving through the city with that same quiet control, his jaw flexing as he focused on the road, his fingers tapping against the wheel — it was too much.

You were obsessed. Fully.

Your crush was sitting mere inches away, effortlessly charming, looking stupid good behind the wheel, and here you were, acting all timid. No. You needed to snap out of it. Because if you didn’t make a move now, when would you?

“You like tacos?” His voice cut through your thoughts as he stopped at a red light, glancing at you with a knowing smirk.

Of course, you liked tacos. But right now? Food was the last thing on your mind.

Because tomorrow night, you’d be on a flight back to LA. Who knew when you’d see him again? Your lives were on different continents. And after everything —after DMing him, after him actually showing up for your video — didn’t you deserve this one night?

Your heart pounded as you turned toward him fully, a slow smile curving your lips. “Tacos can wait.”

Aurélien’s lips curved into a smirk, the kind that sent heat rushing through you. He tilted his head slightly, feigning innocence. “Oh? And what are you in the mood for?”

The way his voice dipped on the last word made your breath hitch. He knew exactly what you meant. And judging by the way his fingers flexed against the steering wheel, he liked where this was going.

“Maybe we can go back to your place?” you suggested, trying to sound casual despite the thrum of anticipation running through you.

He hummed, dragging his tongue across his bottom lip like he was weighing his options. “For something to eat…or?”

“Definitely or,” you giggled, the boldness surprising even yourself.

Aurélien let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head slightly as he turned onto a quieter road. “Alright. So, UberEats later. Sounds good.”

Your stomach flipped at the ease in his tone, like this was the most natural thing in the world. Then his eyes flicked to you, warm and dark with something unreadable, and he bit his lip. “You’re so beautiful.”

The compliment was soft, unprompted, and it caught you off guard. Your chest tightened, heat creeping up your neck. “Thank you.”

He didn’t rush the drive, taking his time maneuvering through the streets, letting conversation flow easily between you. He asked about your time in Madrid, what you’d done so far, if you liked the city. And the whole time, his voice had that smooth, rich quality that made every word feel like it was meant just for you.

When he finally pulled up to his house — a sleek, modern place with clean lines and warm lighting —you barely had time to take it in before a low bark caught your attention.

Ocho.

The Belgian Malinois trotted toward the door as soon as you stepped inside, his dark eyes locked onto you with curiosity. Aurélien placed a reassuring hand on your lower back, his touch warm and grounding. “Let him sniff you first,” he murmured.

You extended your hand slightly, letting Ocho inspect you. The dog’s ears twitched before he gave a small huff, seemingly satisfied.

Aurélien grinned. “Good boy.” Then, switching to French, he said, “Va dans ta chambre.” (Go to your room.)

Ocho obeyed immediately, padding off toward what you assumed was his designated space.

“He’s well-trained,” you noted, impressed.

Aurélien shrugged, closing the door behind him. “Had to be. He’s my best boy.” Then he turned to you, his gaze softer now. “You want anything to drink?”

The fact that he even asked — so polite, so sweet —made your heart squeeze a little.

You shook your head. “I’m good.”

Still, he grabbed a bottle of Gatorade and a water anyway, tucking them under his arm before reaching for you. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you in just enough to make your breath hitch. “Come on.”

As he guided you upstairs, his lips found the side of your neck, pressing slow, lingering kisses against your skin as you walked. His goatee tickled, the warmth of his mouth sending shivers down your spine.

By the time you made it to his bedroom, you were already gripping his arm, steadying yourself against the dizzying effect of his touch.

Aurélien smirked as he nudged the door shut behind you. “Still thinking about tacos?”

Not even a little bit. “No.”

He placed the Gatorade and water bottle on the bedside table then Aurélien’s hands were warm against your waist, fingers pressing into your skin as he pulled you in. His lips found yours, soft at first, tasting, teasing, savoring. The kiss started slow, a gentle exploration, his lips moving against yours in a way that had your heart thudding in your chest.

But then his hands slid lower, gripping the curve of your hips, and something shifted. The kiss deepened, turning hotter, messier — needy. His tongue met yours, stroking, claiming, pulling soft moans from your lips that he swallowed greedily.

The room was quiet except for the sounds of your mouths working against each other, the wet slide of tongues, the occasional breathless sighs escaping between kisses. His fingers trailed up your back, making you arch into him, pressing your body flush against his. The heat between you was dizzying, his scent — fresh, clean, and something uniquely him —wrapping around you like a drug.

Your hands roamed, exploring the hard planes of his back, the ridges of muscle beneath his skin. He groaned into your mouth when your nails scratched lightly at his nape, the sound vibrating through you and making your thighs clench.

His hands moved with purpose now, sliding under the hem of your top, pushing it up, breaking the kiss only long enough to strip it from you. Then he went for your bottoms, peeling them away, leaving you in just your underwear. His dark eyes roved over you, taking you in, heat flickering in his gaze.

“Fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself, before his hands were back on you, caressing, exploring, like he needed to feel every inch of your skin.

You didn’t hesitate, your fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt, tugging it upward. He let you pull it over his head, and your breath hitched when you got a full view of him — his abs looked even better in person, all taut muscle and definition, a masterpiece carved in 4D.

Your fingers traced along the ridges, relishing the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch.

Aurélien groaned, low and deep, his head tipping back slightly. “You’re really testing my patience, bébé.”

You smiled, dragging your fingertips lower, teasing along the waistband of his jeans. Your fingers worked at the button, then the zipper, easing the denim down his hips. He helped, pushing them the rest of the way until they pooled at his feet, leaving him in just his Aime boxers.

Your breath caught.

He was hard.

The thick outline of his length strained against the fabric, the sight making heat pool low in your belly.

Your hands ghosted over his erection, barely grazing him, but it was enough to make him suck in a sharp breath.

“Shit,” he hissed, his hips jerking slightly at the contact.

You muttered an apology, but he just shook his head, eyes dark with heat. “It’s okay, bébé.”

Then his lips were on yours again, stealing the breath from your lungs, guiding you toward the bed. You barely registered the feel of the mattress beneath you before he was pressing you down, his body hovering over yours, his heat surrounding you.

And from the way he looked at you — like he was about to ruin you — you knew you were in for it.

His hands skimmed down your body to unclasp your bra then his fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear, dragging them down your legs with agonizing slowness. His gaze roved over you, hungry and heated, before he lowered himself between your thighs.

His mouth found your skin, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from your navel downward, making you shiver in anticipation.

And then — oh.

Aurélien’s lips, his tongue, the warmth of his breath against your pussy had you gasping, your fingers tangling in his curls as he worked you over with a skill that had your thighs trembling.

He was deliberate but messy, completely focused on you, his lips wrapping around your clit while his tongue moved in slow, devastating circles. When he slipped two fingers inside, curling them just right, a strangled moan escaped your lips.

“Tu prends si bien, bébé,” he murmured against you, the vibration of his voice making you whimper. His fingers stroked inside you, matching the rhythm of his tongue, and your hips bucked instinctively. He just chuckled, holding you in place as he kept going, kept building you higher, until—

And then he pulled away.

A whimper of protest left your lips before you could stop it, and he smirked at your pout, his thumb swiping at the corner of his mouth like he was savoring the taste of you.

“Be right back,” he said, pressing a final kiss to your inner thigh before moving toward his dresser.

You pushed up on your elbows, watching as he pulled out a condom, then hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, pushing them down. Your breath hitched at the sight of him — thick, long, and impossibly hard.

Aurélien caught you staring and smirked. “Like what you see?”

You swallowed, your cheeks heating. “Obviously.”

That made him chuckle as he rolled the condom on, then returned to the bed, his hands guiding your legs further apart as he settled between them. One arm reached behind you, grabbing a pillow and tucking it under your lower back, another small but thoughtful gesture that made your chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with arousal.

His lips found your neck as he nudged himself against your entrance, teasing you with shallow strokes, making your body crave him even more.

And as he finally, finally pushed inside, a deep moan left your lips, because — oh. Oh.

This was happening. Your crush, your fantasy, your dream — was now your reality.

His thrusts were slow at first, letting you feel every inch of him stretching you, filling you, but it didn’t take long before the teasing gave way to something deeper, more urgent. He kissed you through it, all tongue and heat, swallowing your moans as his hips found a steady rhythm.

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with pleasure. “So wet for me.”

The chain around his neck swung forward with every movement, the cool metal brushing against your skin, dangling just above your face, and god, he looked beautiful like this — face twisted in pleasure, jaw clenched, brows furrowed, dark eyes locked on yours like he never wanted to look away.

“Tu es si belle,” he groaned, dropping his head to your neck, dragging open-mouthed kisses along your throat before moving lower. His tongue flicked over your nipple before he took it into his mouth, sucking just enough to send a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. Your back arched off the bed, hands tangling in his curls as you whimpered his name.

Aurélien pulled back slightly, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before he released you with a wet pop. His eyes met yours, dark and full of intent.

“Turn over for me,” he said, voice like gravel, thick with desire.

You swallowed, your body already obeying before your mind could catch up. He sat back, watching you get on all fours, his large hands smoothing over the curve of your ass, squeezing each cheek once before dragging up your spine. The way he looked at you, eyes burning with hunger, sent heat pooling low in your stomach.

“You’re perfect,” he muttered, almost to himself. Then he ran a hand through his curls, exhaling sharply before gripping your hips and lining himself up again.

And when he pushed back inside, deeper than before, a broken moan fell from your lips.

“That’s it, bébé,” he murmured, his fingers digging into your skin as he started to move, slow at first, teasing. “Taking me so well.”

His pace quickened, the sound of skin on skin filling the air, along with the low, guttural groans spilling from his lips. His chain swung again, the rhythmic clink of metal adding to the mix of sensations that had you spiraling.

“Feel me?” he rasped, dragging a hand up your spine to fist your hair gently, pulling just enough to make you arch. “So deep inside you. Fuck.”

You whimpered, barely able to form words, barely able to breathe with how good he felt, how he filled every inch of you like he was made for this.

“Talk to me,” he urged, voice raw. “Let me hear you.”

“I’m—” Your words broke off into a moan as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.

“Yeah?” he taunted, a smirk in his voice. “Right there, huh?”

You could only nod frantically, your body trembling as he picked up the pace, chasing both of your releases. His angled his hips once more and that made you let out something primal.

“Damn, yes fuck me back,” he crooned just before you felt his lips touch the middle of spine. You shivered at the sensation, moaning out his name like a prayer.

“Aurélien….”

He rocked into you harder, faster and it made your toes curl. He was relentless and you loved every second of it. The sounds you both were making was the perfect lullaby of lust and pleasure.

“Mm…shit….Aurélien.” You couldn’t stop from moaning his name and judging by the way his hands gripped your hips each time, you could tell that he liked it.

Soon, you both were pushed over that edge, moaning as your orgasm overwhelmed your entire body. After awhile, you felt him slip out of you and then the bed shifted as he moved to throw out the condom.

Your body still hummed with the aftershocks of pleasure, limbs heavy, breath slowly evening out. You were probably a mess — hair wild, lips swollen, body still flushed with heat — but Aurélien? He looked unfairly good.

He was leaning back against the headboard, his chest still rising and falling steadily, dark skin glowing under the dim light. The chain that had been dangling in your face minutes ago now rested against his collarbones, catching the light with each small movement. He reached over to grab his Gatorade, unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip before setting it on the bedside table.

Then, he turned to you, dark eyes scanning your face, something soft in his expression. “You want some?”

You shook your head, not because you weren’t thirsty, but because you couldn’t stop staring at him.

His lips quirked slightly. “You must really like me.”

The way he said it wasn’t cocky or teasing — it was knowing, like he’d been piecing it together all night. And maybe he was right, because you couldn’t help the dopey-ass smile that spread across your face.

Aurélien chuckled, shaking his head before exhaling through his nose. “I like you too. Wish you didn’t beat me to sliding in the DMs first, though.”

You lifted a brow. “You really mad about that?”

He made a little face, scrunching his nose slightly, which was unfairly adorable for someone who had just rearranged your insides. “Not that much,” he admitted. “But I would’ve liked the chase.”

You scoffed, rolling onto your side to face him. “The chase? What are you, a lion?”

That made him smile, a real one, warm and lazy, like he was letting his guard down completely. “When a guy likes a girl, he usually asks her out first,” he said simply. “You were in my likes, I was in yours… I was about to slide through, but yeah, you beat me to it.”

Your stomach did a little flip.

He reached out then, running a hand down your arm before linking his fingers loosely with yours. “But I’m gonna do the rest, okay?”

Your breath caught, your heart stumbling in your chest. This was Aurélien Tchouaméni, your crush, your dream, and now, here he was — holding your hand, looking at you like this wasn’t just some one-night thing.

“Okay,” you whispered, squeezing his fingers lightly.

His smile widened, and then he tugged you closer, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before settling beside you, keeping your hand in his like he wasn’t planning to let go anytime soon.

You couldn’t help but stare at him — at the strong lines of his face, the sharp jaw softened by the faintest hint of stubble, the fullness of his lips, the way his lashes rested against his cheeks when he blinked. He was so beautiful.

“What?” he murmured, catching you staring.

You shrugged, biting your lip. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

How crazy it was that you were here. That this wasn’t a dream. That your crush — the man who dominated the midfield with an effortless cool, the one you’d written lyrics about, the one you’d been too shy to DM for the longest time — was lying next to you, holding your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“About how wild this is,” you admitted.

Aurélien chuckled, his dimples flashing as he turned onto his side, propping his head up with his free hand. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “I mean, this time yesterday, I was just hoping you’d even notice me at the game. Now I’m in your bed.”

That smirk made a reappearance, but his voice was soft when he said, “I noticed you way before the game, bébé.”

Your stomach flipped. “Yeah?”

“Of course,” he said easily. “You think I wasn’t watching whenever you posted on Instagram? When you DM’d me?”

Your face warmed. “You didn’t answer right away.”

He grinned, teasing. “Had to make you sweat a little.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Wow, so you really are a lion.”

“Gotta keep things interesting,” he mused. Then, more seriously, “But I was always gonna answer.”

Something about the way he said it made your heart squeeze. Like he wasn’t just saying it to make you feel good. Like, in some way, he’d been waiting for this too.

You swallowed. “And now that I’m here?”

Aurélien’s eyes darkened slightly, but there was something tender in his gaze as he squeezed your fingers. “Now,” he murmured, shifting closer, “I’m making sure you come back.”

Your breath caught, and before you could think of a response, he kissed you.

It was slow this time, unhurried, like he wanted to take his time tasting you. His lips moved against yours with an intoxicating rhythm, deepening the kiss little by little until you were completely lost in it. His hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb stroking over your cheek as he kissed you like he had all the time in the world.

And maybe he did. Maybe this wasn’t just for tonight.

Maybe, just maybe, this was only the beginning.

Aurélien pulled back just enough to search your face, his lips still brushing against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His fingers traced slow, lazy patterns along your arm as he studied you with that knowing smirk that made your stomach flip.

“That song,” he murmured. “It’s about me, isn’t it?”

Your heart stuttered.

For a second, you thought about playing coy, maybe teasing him a little, but what was the point? He already knew. You could see it in the glint of amusement in his eyes, the confidence in his voice.

You sighed, defeated but grinning. “Yeah,” you admitted softly. “It’s about you.”

Aurélien chuckled, shaking his head like he’d known it all along. “I knew it,” he said, his voice rich with satisfaction. “You should write another one.”

You huffed out a laugh. “Another song?”

“Mm-hmm.” His fingers brushed down your back, tracing the curve of your spine. “One about tonight.”

Your breath hitched at the implication, at the way his voice had dipped lower, rougher.

You bit your lip. “Might have to.”

Aurélien grinned. “Good,” he murmured, kissing you again. “Make it a love song.”

[jostystyles]

when i run out of road, you bring me home | sj

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY JARVY SORRY YOU LOST :( but anyways, this is a culmination of me yapping to @mattyanonwrites about jarvy. i also had casual by chappell roan stuck in my head writing this, so it’s loosely based off that as well. and also happy bday harry styles there’s references to you in here too.

warnings: mentions of marijuana and alcohol, brief mentions of sex

word count: 2.1k. this was supposed to be a blurb.

The blare of the alarm broke him out of a peaceful sleep. The kind that makes you not want to get up, and just stay in the comfort of the blankets and shielded from the real world. Seth sighed as he rolled over to silence the alarm, scrolling through the slew of texts he was already receiving. If he wasn’t already awake, he was now after seeing the notification he’s always looking for.

12:07 am

(Y/N) 🤒

happy birthday jarvy :) hope you have the best day. miss you and sorry i won’t be around today to see you.

His heart clenched, as he realized she was the first person that texted him. She was also the only person he wanted to actually see today. In all honesty, she was the only person he really wanted to see ever. He’d take her in any capacity he could get. Loving the message and replying with a quick “thanks, miss you” and dragged himself out of bed to go in the shower. As the water cascaded down his body, he couldn’t help but let the memories flow of just last week when she was here with him, their bodies wet and flush to each other as one. Turning the water cold, Seth shook his head and dragged his hands down his face with a sigh.

He rode to the rink in silence, aside from a nice phone call with his mom, the only thing surrounding him was the sound of Carolina by Harry Styles coming from his speakers. It was a song (Y/N) added to his playlist as a joke, but one he’d grown to genuinely enjoy. (In all honesty, he actually enjoyed Harry’s music which is something he’d never admit to anyone) Surprisingly, he was the last one to arrive to the arena for morning skate, a role which was usually reserved for KK. As if they had it rehearsed, the second he set foot in the room he was met with the glaring shrieks of Martinook and immediately encapsulated in a three way hug by KK, Andrei and Burnzie.

“Happy birthday Jarvyman!”

“Gee thanks guys,” he exclaimed, “I was afraid that blink 182 lyric was true for a second there.”

Rolling his eyes and shoving Seth away, Andrei let out a chuckle.

“You pumped for the late evening, eh? Win or lose tonight we are getting very drunk. Rented out the Local for a good time.”

Seth smiled, replying with a laugh of “Hell yeah man.”

Andrei noticed his friends spirit was a little deflated.

“Yeah? Any chance of uh, you know who making an appearance?”

Like a sleeper agent, Seth’s demeanor activated from distracted to focused almost instantly.

“Uh, probably not. She texted me that she won’t be around today. She’s stuck in New York City with work.”

That’s why he was sad, Andrei realized. (Y/N) wouldn’t be in attendance. He might be playing with fire by saying this, but he just had to ask.

“You guys are still doing that casual thing, yes?”

Sliding his practice sweater over his pads, Seth nodded.

“Yeah, if that’s what you wanna call it.”

Casual. Except he was eating her out in the passenger seat of his car the other day. Casual, when her mom invited him to their beach house for (Y/N)’s birthday in the summer.

He had no right to be as upset as he was. She wasn’t his girlfriend. In all honesty, he didn’t even know what she was anymore. Three months ago, she was the frazzled college girl he met his first year in Raleigh that became his best friend. The girl he couldn’t live without. Three months ago, she was the girl whose couch he cried on after his ex girlfriend cheated on him. One thing led to another, and the next thing he knew they were waking up naked and agreeing to keep it casual. But Seth liked to be stupid, and the guys teased him for it. He realized been in love with (Y/N) over the summer, and has done nothing but daydream about it to anyone but her. Nellie laughed and called him a romantic when he was wasted and told her and KK about his feelings, saying how he saw (Y/N) living in his apartment, her cats, and maybe they’d have a dog by then. And she’d take him with her and show him off to her friends back home.

“No attachment, right?”

He should’ve said no. Please. I’m attached. But instead, he agreed. A decision he was certainly regretting right now as he threw back his third green tea shot of the night, chasing it with a sip of his beer.

Jesperi sighed watching his best friend sulk at his own birthday party. In the next 5 minutes though, he was either going to go down as the best friend in the world or never be spoken to again. Glancing down at his phone, the message he’d been anxiously awaiting most of the night came through.

11:39 pm

(Y/N)

ubers 2 min out. do you think he’s onto us yet?

No. He doesn’t suspect a thing. Walking around the whole day like a sad puppy. Even looked dejected after he scored

fuck yeah. not that he’s sad, but this is going to be the best surprise ever. i’m here. keep him distracted

Realizing Seth was about to turn and head his direction, he raced forward to slap him on the back and keep him facing away from the door.

“Eh buddy, enjoying your night?”

“Yeah man this is awesome. I’m kinda beat though, think I’m gonna head out soon.”

KK squinted, pulling his head back a bit. “Leaving your own birthday party early? You good Jarvyman?”

Seth shrugged. “Yeah. ‘sides (Y/N) said she was gonna call me when she got to her hotel from the event she was at, but she hasn’t called me yet.” As soon as he stopped talking, he felt a pair of soft arms snake around his waist.

“Yeah, sorry about that. My plane got delayed a few times. Sorry I’m late to the party.”

Whipping around faster than he could on skates, he was met with his favorite smile and the prettiest eyes he’d grown fond of looking into blinking excitedly at him.

“(Y/N)? You’re here? I thought- New York, and you’d be stuck until tomorrow, and…oh my god.” he trailed off, burying his head into her neck and breathing in the scent of her. He could feel the tears pricking his eyes as he swayed her back and forth.

Giggling, (Y/N) murmured into his ear, “Of course I’m here, Seth. I would’ve never missed this. Happy birthday my dear.” she finished, pressing a soft kiss to his scruffy cheek.

“Can we leave? Now, please? Just wanna be with you.” He mumbled back, still holding onto her.

“Already? I just got here! At least let me say hi to everyone before I go-“

“You’ll see them at the next game. Let’s go.” He said, grabbing her hand and dragging her away from the bar. As they raced out, (Y/N) waved at Andrei and Jaccob, who were beside themselves with laughter at Seth’s sudden desire to leave his own party. Thankful he moved his car across the lot after the game, Seth opened (Y/N)s door for her before climbing into his own side of the car.

“I can’t believe you’re here right now. For the record, worst surprise ever. You showed up with only an hour left in my birthday.” He teased, fingers tapping the steering wheel with anxiety.

“Yeah well tell that to mother nature. I tried to get in so I could at least see the game, but we couldn’t depart JFK until the storm passed. I had to warn KK before puck drop to update our plans.”

“He was in on this?”

“Yeah, always. As soon as I found out I was going to come home today I texted him.”

“You guys suck. I don’t like being left out.”

(Y/N) laughed. “Jarvy, we were surprising you. We kind of had to leave you out.”

“Well yeah, but that doesn’t stop me from getting FOMO.”

The elevator ride up to his apartment was silent, which was unlikely for Seth. (Y/N) could tell he was on edge, and she wasn’t sure why. Before she could let her thoughts wander further, the bell dinged and they walked out hand in hand to his door.

Seth’s heart was racing. From almost bawling like a baby at the sight of her, he really hadn’t talked to (Y/N) that much since she got here. But in his own defense he didn’t think he’d have to do this so soon. Since she left last week, (Y/N) had left a void in Seth’s life. He’d always had her in some capacity since they came into each other’s lives. But lately, since they started whatever this thing they had going on, he craved her in every way imaginable. If all it took for him to realize he finally had to tell her how he felt was her going out of town, he’d have bought her a ticket a long time ago.

They stepped into his apartment, leaving their shoes by the door. As soon as (Y/N)s second boot was off her foot, Seth’s hands were grabbing her face, bringing it towards his own. His lips were soft on hers, and she could taste the cheap beer he’d been nursing all night. (Y/N) loved kissing him, but this one was different. Usually, every kiss they shared was fueled by pure lust, the marijuana smoke in their lungs or liquor in their veins providing accelerant. But this one, right now, was one fueled by something different.

Pulling away from her, his brown eyes wide, he rambled out, “I need to tell you something. Let’s go.”

“Seth. Honey, you’re scaring me. You’ve been weird all night, is everything okay?” (Y/N) asked, as they made their way to the couch.

“Yes it’s ok. I promise. Just please, listen to me, ok?” Seth replied, sliding himself into a position where he was kneeling in front of her, his head resting against her tummy. They’d been in this position many times before, but in his eyes this was the most intimate one yet.

“I don’t think I can be casual anymore. It’s getting too hard for me. Because I think it feels too real. And that’s what I want. The real thing. With you.”

“Seth, honey-“

“Wait please, let me get it out before you say anything, ok?” She nodded to him in response.

“I want to be yours. Your favorite bra is in my dresser, and I know my favorite jacket is at your place. I can’t call it casual when I was on the phone talking your sister down from dropping out of soccer. Or when you’re texting with Kayden about what he should buy his girlfriend at Ulta. Because that to me means we’re in this. And I try to be chill about it, and you know I love to talk but I try to hold my tongue on that topic because I want to give you space and not overwhelm you. But it’s overwhelming me. And I hate that I let this drag on so long because now I’m hating myself for not telling you sooner.”

“Oh, Jarvy. Don’t you know how much I love you?” (Y/N) replied, her acrylic nails scratching his head softly.

Seth must have died and gone to heaven. “You do?”

“Of course I do. I should’ve told you sooner. That night you kissed me, I decided that I’d have you in whatever way I could. And that meant being casual so it would hurt less when you eventually got tired of me. Because you were never really mine” (Y/N) confessed, sort of feeling a weight lift off her chest. She’s loved him for so long.

Seth moved so he was on top of her, her back pressed to the corner of the couch, their legs intertwined at the opposite end. “I love you. I love you so much. You’re my best friend. I’ll never get tired of you.”

(Y/N) giggled, leaning forward slightly to capture his lips in a quick kiss. “I know that now, silly boy.”

Seth rested his head on her boobs, his arms squeezing her waist a little tighter. Eyes closed, he laid there for a few minutes, listening to the beat of her heart, following the rise and fall of her breathing, and feeling the warmth of her hands in his hair.

“You know what would be the best birthday gift ever?”

“What’s that, honey?”

“For you to be my girlfriend.”

(Y/N) let out a cackle. “Well, it’s a good thing you asked because I left your other gift at my apartment.”

Jesperi was definitely getting an expensive gift for his birthday this year.

tags: @comphyjost @ilyasorokinn @lam-ila @2manytabsopen @laurenairay @leafsbabe

[melodyanqel]

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐏 ── ✦ h.ih. (two - more to live)

a pretty little thing, who grew up extremely sheltered and has never seen the horrors in life until she gets recuited in a mysterious competition.

⤷ pairing: hwang in-ho x fem!oc

⤷ genre/tags: fluff, angst, thriller, psychological drama, established relationship, games, action, financial issues, gambling, betrayal, team bonding, family, possessive!sadistic!in-ho, sheltered!sunshine!oc

⤷ warning: mention of health issues

⤷ wc: 1.3k words

⤷ note: it's our front man's birthday! hbd to this dangerously beautiful character! <3

⤷ melodyanqel taglist: @buckitostan @nadloves @gracesworks @verouys @foulbreadpaenut @avery-043009

Upon the eve of evening, when there is still the strength of day yet the softness of night, the city comes alive with music and light. 

Yu-na and her boss are cleaning up the café because it’s getting late. Her favorite time is when she clocks out from work and relaxes in her cozy home. She also likes to turn off the OPEN sign because another day has ended. 

Throughout her shift, Yu-na missed her uncle. Despite the conflicts between her aunt and Gi-hun, she never hated him. Yu-na knew about his poor gambling habits, lived with his mother after his divorce, and got too stubborn to admit his mistakes. But in the end, Gi-hun does have a heart. Yu-na can tell through his emotions when mentioning Ga-young that he genuinely didn’t want her to leave him. It’s pitiful. However, he still thinks of his daughter every day. 

“Thank you, Yu-na for today.”

Giving her boss a jubilant smile. “My pleasure, Mrs. Lee. Have a lovely night.” She leaves the place and notices the once-blue sky is now ink-black with splatters of stars and the crescent moon. Of course, the city is always loud and cheery at night. Yu-na starts to head home and luckily it’s not a long walk because there’s a neighborhood close to the café. Most people around the area know Yu-na because they have been homeowners since she was a child and a few are great friends with her parents. 

Yu-na kindly greets the people when entering the neighborhood. She also notices a little girl dressed in a light green dress and a flower beanie over her head, holding her father’s hand coming towards her direction. 

The child beams when she sees Yu-na. “Unnie!” She shouts the older’s name and sprints her small legs. 

“Na-yeon!” Yu-na bends down with her arms open—the little girl hops into the embrace. “Did you have fun in school?” She asked because Na-yeon started her education this year. They pulled away to face each other and the child responded, “Yes, I did! I learned how to draw because appa knows how to draw and my friends liked my hat.” She spoke enthusiastically, which made Yu-na smile widely. It’s nice to know Na-yeon is living her life to its fullest. 

Then footsteps come closer to them. Gyeong-seok or Na-yeon’s father approaches. He tells Yu-na, “The teacher also enjoys having her as a student. She brings an extra joy for the class.” He quotes the amazing feedback about his daughter. 

It honestly made Gyeong-seok proud of himself because he raised Na-yeon as a single father and the struggles and concerns about her chronic illness caused him to be overprotective. But then he reflects on his mindset to at least have Na-yeon enjoy life, even when she is fighting to stay strong. Gyeong-seok truly loves and treasures his angel and prays that luck will come true. 

Yu-na stands up and says, “I agree with the teacher. She is like the brightest sun in our universe.” The young woman looks at Na-yeon with adoration in her eyes. She takes a hand to pat her head. “I like your hat too. But you are prettier than the flower.” The comment was cheesy yet sweet because it made Na-yeon smile. 

Gyeong-seok also planned on taking Na-yeon to his work for the weekend and it's the amusement park. Yu-na is glad he is taking his kid to a magical place for the first time. Na-yeon had always wanted to go there because she loves fairytales, cartoon characters, and candy. She is like any other kid. Yu-na hopes Na-yeon will have fun and Gyeong-seok illustrates guests.

Afterward, the father and daughter bid Yu-na ‘goodbye’ and went home. 

✮⋆˙

In the Myung household, a family of three is at the dining table to feast on meals and talk about their day. 

They’re the same old topics: work, plans, and how they’ve been doing. For Yu-na, she brings something new to the table. “I met Uncle Gi-hun today.” She told her parents and they looked at her quite astonished. Her mother’s face lights up. “Really? Where has he been all this time?” Yu-bin becomes intrigued. 

Yu-na expounds, “He has been working overseas and has found a better living. His uncle said he stopped gambling because he was trying to improve his ways, which was shocking, but it’s understanding of him not to live on bad habits.” Her response is brief yet her parents comprehend.

Her father, Ji-won, tells her his thoughts. “It’s nice to know he is no longer in a negative life. Even though I’ve never shown any hate towards him, it was disappointing to see his behavior affecting others. That nasty divorce with his ex-wife caused so much trouble to the family that we weren’t so sure to continue being one. Sorry that I had to bring up your sister, my dear.” He sincerely apologizes to the love of his life. 

She shakes her head. “No, I’m with you on your opinion. As much as I never hated my sister and Gi-hun, their broken marriage had all of us worried. But in the end, I guess people do change.” Yu-bin does believe in second chances if the person is willing to make things right. 

Yu-na sighs, “I wonder if we’ll come together again.” She began to feel the nostalgia when times were different and the whole hatred didn’t come into their lives. Yu-bin reassures her child. “Someday. Keep on hoping for it and it’ll happen.” The mother also wants things they used to be. She misses her sister a lot more than she expected. The two women have a deep bond, even when they are countries apart.

Furthermore, the Myung family continued their dinner until it was time to sleep. 

Yu-na washes her greasy face because she ate delicious BBQ, soup, and dumplings. However, the calories were worth it. After having soft, clean skin, she jumps on her bed like a rabbit. The blissful feeling of cotton sheets and a blanket soothes her aching muscles. To end the night, she texts her friend she met in college. 

Park Chae-young is her name. Yu-na once thought she could seriously be a model for a fashion magazine—from face to body to attitude like so much perfection. Chae-young is also a hard-working student and dreams of becoming a registered nurse. It also makes it appropriate that her fiancé is a police officer because they are helping people in the community by providing medical care and maintaining safety, often in high-stress situations.

The quiet bedroom echoes her giggles here and there from the silly yet cute messages sent by her friend. Yu-na feels sleep taking over her body. She delivers one more reply before entering dreamland. 

✮⋆˙

It’s not a work day but a school day.

Yu-na carried her supplies in a pink and white backpack, wore a Cogimyun crewneck, flared jeans, and sneakers, and ate a quick breakfast—a toast with jelly. 

She leaves her home to meet Chae-young at the subway station. Whenever she goes to school, Yu-na appreciates how peaceful the morning is. It’s close to autumn so the weather is getting cooler and less humid. While leaving the neighborhood, a few people said “Good morning.” Yu-na says it back with her usual merry smile. It’s always amazing how a short yet meaningful greeting can uplift someone a little more. 

As she makes her way to her destination, Yu-na abruptly gets stopped by a person on the streets. It turns out to be a grown man who is fairly tall, with dark brown hair layered flat over his forehead and dressed in all gray and black. His facial features are sharp, thin lips, and has kind brown eyes. 

“Excuse me, miss. Do you know a café nearby?” He asked in a deep, charming voice. Yu-na politely answers. “Yes, I do. If you go down another block there will be one.” She points ahead of the street on her left, directing him to her workplace because that’s the closest. 

The man etches an elated expression. “Thank you so much, miss. Have a good day.” He bows to her. 

“You’re welcome and you too.” Yu-na does the same thing and watches him descend elsewhere before continuing her walk. 

series masterlist | three

[00valentina-writes00]

So I got asked this- but the ask got lost so…

✞⛧Ambessa with a gothic girlfriend✞⛧

✞⛧ The first thing Ambessa notices about you is your striking appearance—dark clothing, intricate jewelry, and an aura that demands attention in a way different from her own. She’s intrigued.

✞⛧ She finds your style both alluring and impressive. The dramatic black lace, corsets, layered skirts, or sharp, tailored outfits—whatever your gothic aesthetic may be—suit you perfectly in her eyes.

✞⛧ Ambessa loves to see you in deep shades of red or rich velvet fabrics; they remind her of the regal styles of old Noxus.

✞⛧ She doesn’t shy away from spoiling you with gifts—silver rings with intricate filigree, antique lockets, or high-quality, custom-tailored coats. She has impeccable taste, and it shows.

✞⛧ Your fascination with the macabre amuses her. Over dinner, you mention death being a natural part of life, and Ambessa smirks, raising a brow. “Finally, someone who understands.”

✞⛧ She’s completely unfazed by your darker interests. You could be reading poetry about mortality, visiting old crypts for their beauty, or talking about gothic literature—Ambessa listens with genuine curiosity.

✞⛧ If you wear dark, dramatic makeup, she admires the precision of it. She may not understand the effort that goes into perfecting your look, but she knows it takes skill and discipline—both things she respects.

✞⛧ She calls you “my raven” in private, a nickname that starts as teasing but grows into something affectionate.

✞⛧ While Ambessa isn’t one for extravagant accessories, she sometimes wears something subtle that reminds her of you—maybe a ring you gifted her or a dark silk scarf.

✞⛧ You introduce her to your favorite gothic literature—Poe, Shelley, Stoker. She reads them in her spare time, and though she scoffs at some of the melodrama, she admits the writing is compelling.

✞⛧ She respects that your view of the world isn’t naive. You see beauty in the dark, in the eerie, in the things that most people fear. It aligns well with her own understanding of life’s brutal nature.

✞⛧ If you have a love for historical fashion, she’ll absolutely have custom pieces made for you—corsets with detailed embroidery, long flowing coats, and heeled boots made of the finest leather.

✞⛧ She enjoys watching you prepare for the day. The care with which you lace up your boots, fasten your jewelry, or adjust your gloves—it’s ritualistic, and she appreciates discipline in any form.

✞⛧ Ambessa is a woman of practicality, but she will absolutely indulge you if you have an eye for the dramatic. You want a candlelit dinner in a gothic-style hall? She’ll make it happen.

✞⛧ She has a deep, commanding voice, and when she reads aloud from your favorite gothic novels, it sends shivers down your spine. She knows it, too.

✞⛧ If you have a love for classical music, particularly the more haunting, melancholic pieces, Ambessa will humor you by attending performances—though she much prefers the kind of music that stirs a battlefield.

✞⛧ You once mentioned an interest in ancient cathedrals and gothic architecture, and now every time she travels, she makes note of places you might appreciate. She’ll even take you with her when possible.

✞⛧ While she’s not one for poetry herself, she secretly enjoys hearing you read aloud, especially if your voice takes on a soft, wistful tone.

✞⛧ Ambessa finds the contrast between you and her amusing—her imposing, war-hardened presence and your hauntingly elegant demeanor. She likes that you stand out just as much as she does, in your own way.

✞⛧ If anyone dares make snide remarks about your appearance or interests, Ambessa’s gaze alone is enough to silence them. If that doesn’t work, she’ll handle it in a way that ensures they never do it again.

✞⛧ She enjoys taking you to grand, historic locations—opulent halls, towering castles, places rich with history and power. It aligns with both her aesthetic and yours.

✞⛧ If you collect antiques or oddities, she helps expand your collection. A dagger with an engraved handle? An old, ornate mirror with a dark history? She’ll find it for you.

✞⛧ She respects your intelligence and depth. You don’t just embrace darkness for the sake of it—you understand it, analyze it, and find meaning where others fear to look.

✞⛧ Ambessa appreciates that you don’t shy away from discussing mortality, war, or the harsher realities of life. You’re not delicate in the way many expect, and she loves that about you.

✞⛧ If you ever express insecurities about being “too much” or “too different,” she shuts it down immediately. “You are striking. Unforgettable. The rest are simply dull in comparison.”

✞⛧ She’s the type to say things like, “Let them stare. They should be grateful to witness something of worth.”

✞⛧ If you’re the poetic type, you might write about her—her strength, her presence, her legacy. The first time she realizes you’ve done this, she’s uncharacteristically quiet, touched in a way she doesn’t immediately voice.

✞⛧ If you enjoy stormy nights and candlelit conversations, Ambessa will indulge you. She’s lived through countless battles—what’s one more night spent entertaining your romanticism?

✞⛧ She’s drawn to your confidence but also recognizes when you need reassurance. She may not be the most traditionally affectionate partner, but her loyalty and devotion are unwavering.

✞⛧ If you have a dry, morbid sense of humor, she enjoys it more than she lets on. The two of you sometimes exchange comments that leave others unsettled, but between you, it’s a form of connection

✞⛧ Ambessa enjoys that you don’t demand softness from her. You respect her nature as much as she respects yours, and the balance between you is something rare and deeply satisfying.

✞⛧ At the end of the day, Ambessa isn’t concerned with how you present yourself—what matters is your strength, your mind, and the way you challenge her in ways few others ever could.

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: Unspoken Boundaries

Marshall Mathers sat in his studio, earbuds in place as he played through some beats. His mind, however, wasn’t on his music. His thoughts kept drifting to her—Y/N. His wife. The one person who had always been his anchor, the calm in the storm that was his chaotic life.

She was a model—always had been—but this time was different. For the first time, she'd agreed to be in a music video. Just not his. Another rapper had offered her the role, and after years of turning down similar offers, she'd decided it was time to take the leap.

“Marsh, I’ve got something to tell you,” she had said earlier, her eyes filled with excitement.

“What’s up, babe?” He’d asked, looking up from his work.

She had been nervous. "I’m going to be in a music video. It’s for [Rapper's Name]."

Marshall had smiled, genuinely happy for her. She’d been working hard for years, building her career, and this was a huge opportunity. “That’s amazing, baby,” he’d said, wrapping her in a tight hug. “I’m proud of you.”

She’d smiled softly, but there was a glint of hesitation in her eyes. “It’s just... it’s not like what you’re used to. You know, I’ve never done something like this before. I just wanted you to know I’m doing it for me.”

“I get it,” he’d reassured her. “You’ve got this.”

But as the day of the shoot arrived, Marshall’s mind started to race. He kept thinking about her—his wife—being on set with someone else. He tried to push the thoughts down. She wasn’t just his wife; she was a professional, and this was a career move. Still, he couldn’t shake the discomfort that built in his chest as he imagined another man—another rapper—around her.

The day passed slowly. Every time his phone buzzed with another update from the set, his stomach tightened. He tried to ignore the gnawing feeling inside, but seeing pictures of her on set, looking so confident, so beautiful, made something stir in him. Then came the shot that did it—the shot. He saw the rapper’s hand on her waist. It was casual, nothing suggestive, but the image was enough to send a surge of jealousy coursing through his veins.

When she finally came home that night, Marshall was sitting in the living room, his hands restless on his lap as he tried to stay calm. He’d been pacing for hours, but when she walked through the door, he froze.

She stepped inside, looking tired but still glowing. Her eyes met his, and she hesitated for a moment.

“Hey, baby,” she said softly, her voice a mixture of exhaustion and warmth.

He didn’t reply right away. He couldn’t. His chest felt tight, his jealousy bubbling up again, but this time, it was different. This time, it was laced with something else—worry. “How’d it go?” he asked, his voice strained despite his efforts to keep it steady.

She shrugged off her jacket, running a hand through her hair. “It was good. I mean, it was fine, but...” She hesitated, biting her lip as if weighing how much to say.

Marshall’s mind raced, the image of the rapper’s hand on her waist flashing in his mind. “But what?” he asked, his voice low, almost too calm.

She paused, her gaze shifting toward the floor. “It just felt... weird, you know? He had his hand on me during some of the scenes, and it... I didn’t like it. I didn’t like being touched like that by someone else.”

Marshall’s heart dropped at her words. The jealousy, the worry—it all suddenly made sense. It wasn’t about the job. It was about her comfort, her boundaries. She had been in an uncomfortable situation, one that had nothing to do with the work itself but everything to do with what felt right for her.

He stepped toward her, his expression softening. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t realize—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair. “I guess I was being selfish. I just... I couldn’t stand the thought of someone else touching you.”

She smiled at him, a tired but affectionate smile. “It wasn’t that bad. It’s just... I never wanted to be in a position like that, you know? I’ve always kept my distance from that kind of thing. I didn’t expect to feel so... off about it.”

Marshall reached out and cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I get it now. I just... I hate the thought of anyone else having a piece of you, even if it’s just for a second. You’re mine. Always have been.”

Her eyes softened, and she leaned into his touch. “I know. And I’m still yours. But it was just... one of those things. I couldn’t do it, Marsh. I couldn’t let him get too close, even if it was for the job.”

Marshall’s chest swelled with relief, but a sudden thought crossed his mind—an idea he’d been too hesitant to voice before. “Then maybe... maybe it’s time for you to be in one of my videos.”

She looked at him, surprise flashing in her eyes. “What?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice firm but full of affection. “I want you in my video. You’ve been by my side through all of this, and I think it’s about time the world gets to see us together, the way it should be. I don’t want you to be in anyone else’s video unless it’s with me.”

[Y/N] smiled, the tension in her shoulders easing as she wrapped her arms around him. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” he said, his voice warm. “I’ve been wanting it for so long. No one else should have that privilege.”

She kissed him then, her lips soft and tender against his. “I’d love to, Marsh. Let’s make it happen.”

Marshall felt a sense of relief flood through him, a peace that only came when she was near. He knew they were both in this together, and she wasn’t just his wife—she was his partner, his equal. No matter how many other men might try to get close to her, she would always come back to him.

And now, more than ever, he was determined to share that with the world.

[thesweetnessofspring]

Mutual you know I love you and respect your opinions but I just CANNOT get behind you hating on Katniss being related to the covey 😭 what did she do to you????❗️

Look I totally get not wanting everything to be interconnected and like "fate" and stuff because part of the value of THG is that there's no chosen one. So like I understand and appreciate and enjoy that reading of it

But I don't think Katniss being covey ruins that? I think it's more to show the same group of people being routinely oppressed over and over again. Not to mention 12 is a small district, so I guess it just doesn't bother me so much. But I'd love to hear more of your opinion

I don't like it because:

There are NO INDICATIONS of Katniss being Covey from the original trilogy. Maude Ivory and Katniss both being quick to learn new music was put in during TBOSAS, but other than the songs, there is no other definite evidence of the Covey even existing. And because Katniss seemingly knows nothing about the Covey, I genuinely hate the idea that a Covey-Mr. Everdeen never shared his culture with her, other than songs, which don't necessarily have to be limited to the Covey's culture anyway. And before anyone mentions the lake or woods, TBOSAS says other people went there too, Francis is the one who made the movie say only the Covey knew about it but that's not canon. There is a fiddle player from 12 in MJ, so if he were Covey, where are Mr. Everdeen's instruments? Where is a hint of a Covey name for Katniss or Prim (like maybe just a ballad or just a color, something inconspicuous but important)? I can accept a culture being snuffed out/going way underground in 12 without Katniss knowing about it and thus we only get the smallest clues about its existence, but I can't accept that her father was part of that culture and didn't share it with his kids or even leave any clear indication it was part of him. Especially when he works such a dangerous job and his death could mean all memory and knowledge of his people might disappear. And I mean, he was willing to sing The Hanging Tree so it's not like he wasn't willing to risk giving his children forbidden knowledge.

As you mentioned, the whole "fate" thing. Lucy Gray was rigged to be reaped, but Prim was random chance. It shows you can do everything "right" (i.e. not be made a target by the Capitol, not take out tessarae, be the youngest age with the least amount of slips) and random odds don't care. You can be reaped. I see Katniss being Covey making the "it was rigged for Prim to be reaped" theories happen all over again, like Snow knew and wanted to kill off the Everdeen line. Now, in TUC, Suzanne plays with the idea of if something is fate or our own choices, so I can see a similar theme play out in the background here if a reader chooses to explore it. Was there some kind of fate that Lucy Gray used to bring about Katniss and Peeta going into the Games together? But I don't like the idea of it being a bloodline thing. I'd rather it be from Katniss's merit, like Lucy Gray's ghost observed her in the woods and chose her to be the Mockingjay and knew that Peeta would be the one to get her there as he is Snow's foil.

A non-Covey Katniss still shows that the same people are oppressed over and over. D12 is as a whole, even the merchants, though they certainly benefit from certain privileges those in the Seam don't have. But Katniss, who is Seam, is incredibly oppressed as well, as have the generations before her. And again, saying that Prim being reaped and Katniss going into the Games shows that one group (the Covey) is a more oppressed group supports the "Prim's reaping was rigged" theory that is such bullshit.

I don't see anything being gained in terms of the themes. Katniss may be a "chosen one" in a sense, but she was a girl who loved her sister, and Rue, and Peeta, and got caught up in being the Mockingjay. Making her Covey turns her into a traditional "chosen one" and it just does not jive with the theme of THG or Katniss's character at all. If the Capitol is built on the same 15 families having power, then why would that be replicated in the rebellion with the Covey being the "chosen ones" to bring down Snow? As if because Lucy Gray was betrayed by Coriolanus, those of her people are the ones who must take him down as well. Not because Katniss and the districts have been oppressed and so it's something she feels bound to do as a duty to the people, as she realizes in MJ. Katniss was used by some of those powerful families, but she wasn't powerful in that way. Making her Covey gives her extra mythology that goes against this idea and makes her "special" even if she wasn't special until that Reaping Day.

The fact that the district is small is why I'm not bothered by Haymitch and Mrs. Everdeen having some kind of history (it's there in CF, so it is an original part of the story) or even if Mr. Everdeen makes an appearance! I'm from a big city but it's wild hearing how some of the older generations in my circle are connected and now that I'm an adult, knowing about the relationships and drama that happened to my older siblings' cohort (especially as their kids are now becoming teens and learning some of that history). Life does connect in interesting ways! My personal favorite theory is that Mr. Everdeen hung around the Covey and learned music from them (maybe Haymitch was even a little intimidated thinking Lenore Dove would prefer Mr. Everdeen to him?) but making Mr. Everdeen's connection a family connection (blood or adopted) really sinks the themes of the original and Katniss's role.

[transmascpalamedessextus]

gideon the ninth characters and their 2025 jobs

harrow: the hardest one on this list tbh. nun’s too simple, religious studies scholar isn’t insane enough. chef is too funny, as is orthopedic surgeon. we’ll go with historic preservationist, specializing in religious architecture and artifacts.

gideon: barista employee of the month, every month, at an inclusive crossfit gym. moonlights at a bar down the street some nights and is known for making sure everyone gets home safe, no matter how many asses she has to kick to the curb (literally)

palamedes: PhD and research consultant with multiple published works (research under his real name, fiction under a pseudonym). what’s the phd in? yes.

camilla: that one friend who can do anything and has done everything. certified meditation instructor? check. semi-professional martial artist? check. volunteer park ranger? check. often credited in palamedes’ works, but you didn’t even know she had a degree. throws mugs and vases in her spare time but vows to never open an etsy store

ianthe: evil woman in STEM (you pick her crime) or chain-smoking actress with a scandalous reputation and horrible interviewing manner but unmistakable talent

naberius: instagram model who is literally always filming sponsored content for a new boutique european hotel or “experience”

corona: so torn on this. either a fellow instagram model that 50% of her audience thinks is fake and 50% thinks is “actually really sweet!” or like a famous marine biologist working to save the turtles or something

jeannemary: young record-breaking olympian/pro athlete. it’s not fencing or martial arts — it’s skateboarding

isaac: internet star with a rising pop punk music career, a la noahfinnce. jeannemary did a viral drop-in to one of his songs

abigail: every gay student’s favorite history (or maybe archaeology?) professor at a world-renowned college

magnus: owner and operator of a charming pub in the quaint town where said world-renowned college is. it’s overpriced but the atmosphere and food are genuinely great

“dulcinea”: chronic illness content creator (later revealed to be grifter)

dulcinea: content creator, artist (painter), and sometimes streamer. candid and humorous about her illness, but refuses to be inspiration porn

“protesilaus”: male podcaster, incel edition

protesilaus: beloved personal trainer who privately trains for american ninja warrior on the side

silas: idk, the cuntiest bitch at the monastery? do we still have monks? can someone be a combo of trust fund baby and monk?

colum: successful practitioner of an age-old craft like blacksmithing. always taking commissions but prefers to help at historic reenactments or even ren faires. exclusively makes historically accurate pieces

judith: cop

marta: cop wait she helped harrow in the bubble so i have to be nice hard-but-fair-and-well-respected fencing instructor at a private school. she might as well be a monk for how little everyone knows about her personal life, but suspicion is rife and all the baby lesbians hope she’s got a wife (bars)

bonus: teacher: cult leader is too easy so we’ll go with “local guy who runs a shop selling crystals he bought from china at a 500% markup. he pretends they’re sustainably/ethically/lovingly sourced and guaranteed to cure your depression/anxiety/adhd but you both know he’s full of it”

[instantfoxdonut]

Helluva Boss S1-S2: Octavia Rant

okay, it has CLEARLY come to attention that ever since the episodes Mastermind and Sinsmas came out, MANY people having been hating on Octavia's character with little to no evidence for it.

Allow me to explain

As someone who watches both helluva boss and hazbin hotel, alot of drama has been spreaded around throughout both shows, most recently, with helluva boss's season 2 finale. Alot of people have started to make pointless rants of why octavia being angry and most likely wanting NOTHING to do with her father, Stolas, in the future makes her a terrible daughter and character, and may I remind you, with LITTLE TO NO EVIDENCE WHATSOEVER.

And now, I shall bring out the evidence of why octavia's feelings towards her father, blitzø, and her mother are justified.

First of all, the first time we actually get to see Octavia is in S1- episode 2: Looloo Land. The episode opens with a flashback to Octavia as a young child having difficulty going to sleep. Due to Stolas hearing Octavia while trying to sleep himself, he goes to her room with his grimoire and sings to her while taking her to watch an entire solar system implode on itself. Then it cuts to Octavia in the present waking up to the sound of Stella, Octavia's mother, screaming at Stolas and throwing objects across the kitchen at him. Now before she woke up, she seemed genuinely content, but once she was brought back to harsh reality, she looks absolutely miserable.

if you can't tell HOW miserable this girl is- then here is a mini compilation of her misery:

In all of these images you can clearly tell, her life SUCKS. Not to mention, the fact that she puts her headphones in to most likely drown out her mom's shouting kind of gives the impression that this has happened before, and she is USED to it- which is not a good thing. Now, I may not be a parent or an expert on taking care of other living beings, but I know enough that if a child is so used to hearing their parents screeching at eachother EVERY MORNING, to the point that they have had to learn to drown it out with other sounds or distractions, then it is CLEARLY A BAD THING. It's normal for parents to argue every once in a while, but this girl has to hear this EVERY MORNING, AND HAS HAD TO FOR GOD KNOWS HOW LONG. And that does not help with that the song she listens to in the beginning of the episode, is "My World Is Burning Down Around Me" by a band called "Fuk u Dad". Do you see where I am going with this? No? It's okay, I'm not done proving my point yet.

Now as for this rant, I have done some delectable research and have found that during the teenage period of life, most teenagers tend to try to find something to relate to. Specifically music, art, books, poetry, writing, ect. They also tend to pick these depending on how they feel about certain subjects, what they have gone through/ what they are going through at the moment, and a way to express themselves, and as a way to vent about their feelings. By the specific song choice, it's not only referring to how her life is LITERALLY FALLING APART AROUND HER, but also how she feels about the whole Stolas and Blitzø situation. She FEELS like her life is burning down around her while it also, non-metaphorically, is. Seems like a pretty fitting music choice for everything she's going through right now, am I right?

Moving on.

Second of all, during the same episode, she was dragged to LooLoo Land by her dad along with, you guessed it, blitz, which she is OBVIOUSLY not happy about. Her day started terrible, and now it's only going to get worse. Also, she has to see her dad FLIRT with the imp that is partaking in ruining her life INFRONT OF HER. And she looks so uncomfortable during the experience to the point that during the LooLoo Land show with the robotic Fizzarolli, she gets up and leaves, and runs off to sit on a ride by herself, and looks like she wants to cry. When Stolas goes after her, she wants him to go away, but still tolerates him. When he asks her what's wrong, she asks him "Are you going to run away with him and leave me behind...? Where i can't find you and I don't know where you are... and leave me alone...?". This moment, you can see how she is so close to crying at this point that her voice is breaking and that she has a teary expression. Then Stolas responds by hugging her and saying "No. No, I would NEVER do that. Ever". And as everyone finds out later, he BREAKS that promise to his daughter. As the series progresses, we also get to see how their father and daughter relationship slowly, but surely, begins to fall apart right before our eyes.

Third of all, in S2, episode-2: Seeing Stars, Octavia, for the first time we have seen, wakes up HAPPY. We then see her go uo to her calendar which shows she has a date circled and written with something along the lines of her going to see Asaphalts Tears with her father. She seems genuinely excited about it. But as she goes out to talk to Stolas about it, we can see a moving van and Stella's stuff being moved out into the van while Stolas is arguing with Stella on the phone. When Octavia tried to talk to him, he pushes her away and tells her that he is busy, not only refusing to listen to his OWN DAUGHTER, but also FORGETTING the OTHER promise he made to her. Now, alot of people may think "Oh, well Stolas is obviously busy and stressed, and it's just some Asaphalts Tears, it's totally okay for him to forget about taking his daughter to see them." No, it's actually NOT OKAY. He clearly promised to her that he would take her to see them, and may I remind you, Asaphalts Tears only show up every 1000 YEARS. That is a LONG TIME before she will get to see them. Not to mention, due to her being 17 at this point in the series, this would be her VERY FIRST TIME SEEING THEM. Due to her reaction, she is clearly upset about him brushing her off and forgetting, to the point she storms back to her room, and tears up and throws away her calendar. Then, she decides to take her father's grimoire and uses it to go see them, which ends up with her in the middle of Los Angeles by herself utterly lost. When Stolas realizes his book is gone and that Octavia is missing, he and Blitz along with the rest of I.M.P., go to look for her. In the process, Blitz gets mistaken for a celebrity and Stolas gets taken with him, leaving Loona to go look for her instead. By the way, the entire time that Blitz and Stolas are stuck on a recording set, Stolas COMPLETELY FORGETS ABOUT HIS OWN DAUGHTER. AGAIN. He then spends that time swooning over Blitz while Loona is busy running herself ragged, looking for HIS DAUGHTER FOR HIM. Once Loona finds Octavia, SHE has to tell her that her father loves her, since he isn't able to do it HIMSELF. Octavia even states, "If he cares so much, then why did you come looking for me instead of him...?" She is SO RIGHT with that line. If Stolas ACTUALLY cares as much as he says he does about his daughter, then why couldn't he be bothered to LOOK AND TALK TO HER HIMSELF? People also seem to like forgetting that as a parent, Stolas should be concerned enough about his daughter to be able to actually talk to her and look for her and not be flirting with Blitz for 5 MINUTES. That is just common sense.

Fourth of all, throughout both Sinsmas and Mastermind, Octavia is starting to suffer more than ever from her father's actions. Jesus, it's like Rose/Pink Diamond with Steven all over again-. In Mastermind, during the trial, we can see that the entire thing is being recorded and broadcasted LIVE. Once Stolas decides to (somewhat) own up to his actions, he places his head on the block, thinking he will be executed. Remember, this is being broadcasted LIVE. Octavia is WATCHING. SHE IS THINKING THAT SHE IS GOING TO WATCH HER FATHER BE KILLED. Alot of people are most likely saying at this point, "Well, Vivziepop wouldn't just kill off Stolas before the show ends." True, but that's not the point. We, as the viewers, DO know that he won't actually be killed. However, Octavia, as a character, DOESN'T know. I also feel like most of people that watch the show don't understand how TRAUMATIZING THIS WOULD BE FOR HER. She thought she was about to watch her father DIE. Even though he didn't actually die, she can still be traumatized by just the thought or even alluding to him being killed. It's already terrifying enough for a child to think about one of their parents dying, let alone WATCHING THEM DIE. ON TELEVISION. That would mess her up terribly. She was so distressed about thinking that her dad was about to die, that she goes to run up to her room. But before she can even leave the room, Stella stands in her way and embraces her. Once this happens, Octavia begins to sob in her arms, while Stella smiles. SMILES. Her daughter is seeking any form of comfort from her, is shaking like a leaf, AND crying, and she SMILES. Everybody already knows, Stella is a terrible person and mother, and is also an abuser and manipulator. To a certain degree, Octavia most likely knows this, but she is also so desperate and in need for comfort right now, that she is willing to hug her anyway.

In Sinsmas, we see that Octavia is still dealing with the aftermath and ending of Mastermind. It's not long until she finds a box of Stolas's pills, and her guitar. She then sings her song, "I Will Be Okay". Some people on tumblr have said that she is actively grieving her father even though he is still alive and her also planning on cutting ties with him. Those ideas make alot of sense and I like and support those ideas. Throughout the song however, we see these silhouette versions of Stolas and Blitz. These are representations of how she seems them. She sees her father leaving her behind for some porno fanfiction written by a virgin, and Blitz as one of the people destroying her life. She clearly hates him, and that is once again, understandable. She may not obviously have the full story due to being stuck with Stella and Andrealphys and hearing their versions of what happened, but she knows enough to the point that she hates Blitz and actively blames him for ruing her life more than it already hazbin. Get it? Hazbin? As in, hazbin hotel? The other show- AHEM- anyways- Her feelings are absolutely understandable and has every reason in the book of feeling the way she does. She already had a shitty life, and then it got shittier. Moving on, when Octavia's phone rings, Stella snatches it away and forbids her from talking to Stolas. Her and Andrealphys then make fun of the idea of him trying to even TALK to his daughter FOR ONCE. When Stolas returns to the castle, demanding to see Octavia, Andrealphys mocks him instead and gets his tail feathers pounded into the ground, which leads to a whole entire fight. At the end of fight when Andrealphys is about to attack Stolas and Blitz, Octavia steps in and deflects back at him and says "Don't. hurt. my. dad.". Once Andrelaphys storms off, Stolas goes to tell how proud of her he is and how he is sorry, and Octavia wants NONE OF IT. She is done with the apologies, the lies, the broken promises, the pain, and with his affair with Blitzø. She lashes out at him with the lines "I DO understand!", "Is that why you had these..!? Because of me..? Am I just some obligation to you...!?", and then "No! You don't love mother and you don't love me, you love him! We were never good enough for you!". Afterwards, she goes back inside, refusing to listen, and even look at him now.

In conclusion, Octavia has every right to be angry and to even go as far to HATE Stolas and Blitz. Before people say "But Stolas was miserable! He didn't mean to hurt Octavia and to make her life worse!". That doesn't matter. Just because he didn't mean to hurt her, doesn't mean it justifies his horrible decision making and him ultimately abandoning her for some utterly unrealistic fantasy. Octavia deserves an apology, a REAL apology and an explanation, not the shitty ones written by people that have never apologized in their lives and don't even know what the word means. As i have said before, her life was already bad enough, and in the process, Stolas made it worse. I am genuinely sick of people babying his character and defending him when his character is an ADULT who MADE the decision to sleep with BLITZØ in the first place. It's his decision, and these are the consequences, and the only way that his character can develop is by facing those consequences and moving past them, which many people seem to have a hard time understanding when writing characters. Not all issues with characters can just be sweeped under the rug, some actually need to be solved. Not to mention, Octavia gets even LESS SCREENTIME THAN MILLIE. And she is one of the main protagonist's daughters. She only has about 17 mintues of screen time in the ENTIRE SERIES, while Milie has over 20. Octavia's character is actively being WASTED and only being used for drama to keep the series going. Don't even get me started on the SHIPPING. There are people actively SHIPPING her with LOONA. If you couldn't tell, Loona is Blitz's adopted DAUGHTER. If Stolas and Blitzø ACTUALLY WORK OUT, that would make Octavia and Loona SISTERS. We also hardly know anything about her character other than her parents taking over the rest of it. Being associated with other characters isn't a personality trait. I also feel like alot of people would also feel angry if one of their parents put them through anything remotely like this. People have been bashing and hating on Octavia's character without justifying it or even explaining why. Everyoje knows that Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel have some of the worst fandoms to be seen with the human eye, which is where all of this hate came from, the FANDOM.

This is just an essay about my opinion on Octavia's character as a whole along with her connections to other characters and her writing. These are my opinions along with some others that I happen to agree with.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk

[insomniac4000]

Chained Together 4

ChrisMD had two little black books, one for women and one for Youtubers. Being in a ChrisMD video came with a lot of perks and connections, between in two even more so. Chris was one of those creators who also featured up and coming Youtubers a lot on her channel. It was almost like a rite of passage, the other big Youtube channel creators were The Sidemen, you knew if you made either or even both of those channels then you were on your way. Thanks for her connections with Chris she had now met Ethan and Harry and during a moment on the video where they all went to the pub to have some food and drink Florence bonded with them.

“How the fuck are you putting up with him all day?” Ethan uttered when Arthur was very enthusiastically talking about, and laughing at a particular moment in Sponge Bob.

“He’s harmless and he gets all the girls viewing…” Florence replied nonchalantly, she looked over at her partner who was giggling away to himself, she just sipped her fruity cider with a smirk on her face.

“You must have the patience of a saint,” Ethan replied.

“He reminds me of my little brother a lot…” Florence started, she stopped quickly and took another sip of her drink.

“That works, don’t you have like twelve brothers and sisters?” Harry teased.

“Eight. I’m the third oldest and oldest boy,”

“Man your dad must have been disappointed,” Florence chimed in trying to shift the focus from her.

“Why do you think he had so many after?” Arthur replied smiling.

It was over a week since that shoot and while that video hadn’t been released yet, the 20 v 1 had been. The response as a whole was positive, Florence was praised for her “good vibes” and people seemed genuinely impressed at her special skill of juggling. It was a few days after this she got a text from a number she didn’t recognise.

Hi, this is Simon (Miniminter) Ethan gave me your number. We’re going to be shooting a video in a couple of weeks time I was just wondering if you would be up for it? It would require you to be handcuffed to another Youtuber for forty-eight hours though….

Florence couldn’t believe it. The Sidemen wanted her to be in a video, they were asking her personally and it wasn’t a dating video it was a full content video. Not that she had anything against dating videos of course as she had done them but there was something about other videos which felt different, there was more opportunity for content rather than a quick few minutes and then onto the next person. Florence held her phone with a slightly shaky hand as she walked to Esme’s room. She knocked on the door and walked in giggling when she heard her friend shout come in.

“You will not believe what has just happened!” Florence screamed as she sat on the end of Esme’s bed.

“You won the lottery?”

“I’ve won the Youtube lottery,” Florence replied, her voice full of excitement and enthusiasm. With a slightly shakey hand she showed the messaged to Esme who took the phone and read the words carefully.

“OH MY GOD!” The blonde screamed, jumping up from the bed, Florence joined her, her face beaming.

“I know! Twenty million subscribers Es, this is going to be such a massive opportunity,” the brunette replied, she couldn’t stop smiling.

“We should go out for drinks to celebrate!” Esme suggested, Florence thought it had been a while since she had a night off.

“The Den?” Esme asked with a twinkle in her eye. The Den was known for the place Esme always got lucky. Florence laughed, allowing her housemate to have her fun.

“Give me an hour to get ready?”

“Make it a little more, I need to wash my hair,” Esme admitted as she pulled her blonde strands from her messy bun.

“Oh wow you do,” Florence joked giggling as she walked back towards the door.

The Den was a generic trendy Shoreditch bar; the drinks were expensive, the music could be cheesy but it was always packed out with revellers wanting a good time.

The girls had found a little shelf by the bar to rest their drinks on, not wanting to pay an extortionate amount for a table. Esme was wearing a khaki dress which complimented her blonde hair nicely, her long legs were on show the dress had long sleeves to add a touch of class. Florence went for a classic black dress it had straps which criss-crossed at the back, held together by a bow.

“Little bit dangerous wearing a dress like that in a place like this, one wrong move and everything will be on show!” A voice came from behind Florence. She looked back and was relieved to see Chris standing there, and he wasn’t alone. George, both Arthur’s and Bach were with him.

“That was such a creepy thing to say to a woman in a nightclub,” Arthur TV piped up, slurring a little.

“No it’s not, plus it’s not like she’s a stranger,” Chris protested.

“Still a little bit creepy, plus I don’t think we know each other that well for you to joke about me being naked yet,” Florence added. She had a smile on her face thought which let Chris know she wasn’t truly mad at him. Esme cleared her throat as she looked at the five men in front of her.

“Oh sorry, guys this is my friend and flatmate Esme. Ez this is Chris, Arthur Frederick, Arthur Hill, Italian Bach or Isaac and erm, this is George,” Florence trailed off a little at the end, she really didn’t know how to take George and was also feeling a little odd because of the look George was giving her.

“Nice to meet you all,” Esme smiled, her glance landing on Chris for a second longer compared to the others.

The girls ended up joining the boys for the night, safety in numbers. Esme and Florence, especially Esme attracted a lot of male attention, it wasn’t always wanted and tonight Esme didn’t appear interested in anyone except for the curly haired man who was at least a couple of inches shorter than she was and he seemed more than happy to oblige.

At one point when Florence was returning with Arthur from the bar, drinks in hand when a guy started to speak to her. She looked at Arthur, her eyes begging him not to leave her side and he didn’t instead waiting for her until she made her excuses and left with him as they rejoined their group.

“Not your type?” Those were the first words George had said to Florence all evening.

“I’m not in the mood tonight,” Florence replied, also serving as a warning to George, she just wanted to dance and wasn’t in the mood to play mind games.

“Well that goes against everything I’ve read,” George mumbled back before taking his drink from Arthur and downing a quarter of it.

George and Florence didn’t exchange words for the rest of the night. She caught him looking a couple of times, she really wanted to ask him why he seemed so weird around her, another drink and she might have but the group were ready to go home.

“Chris seems nice,” Esme slurred when her and Florence fell out of the lift.

“He is, just go easy on him. He’s small.”

[camalyng]

don't make me turn this car around aka: Nomad conversations my beloved

Unsurprisingly, the woman who loves elevator conversations also loves Nomad conversations. Once again: A great way of adding characterization, squad dynamics, and lore, but this time with progression instead of just being random, and without mostly just having multiple slight variations on the same conversation!

Some fave tidbits once more:

Ryder actually chiming in once in a while! Not like Shepard awkwardly standing there while the squad throw around microaggressions.

Jaal asking everyone what they do for fun

Liam trying to tell everyone about his run-in with a scarred up turian vigilante

Jaal following up Cora's description of biotics being like a sneeze with "Amazing. What's a sneeze?"

"Sid asked if I could get her a timer, medi-gel, and fifteen pairs of socks."

Cora and Drack teasing each other a lot of the time but Drack genuinely comforting her after the asari ark

Peebee calling Cora out for being a weeablue and their tension between Cora's discipline and Peebee's free spirit

Liam constantly reminding Cora they're working with civilians who aren't at war, not soldiers

Jaal and Vetra talking about their sisters

Drack Surprise!

Peebee and Jaal wondering if angarans and asari can reproduce

Liam and Jaal swapping weird facts about their species

Drack being someone Vetra can vent to about raising Sid

Vetra and Peebee working through their initial tension about sister status to making plans to go out and do something stupid together

Vetra and Liam discussing combat music

Peebee and Drack talking about their ages and their species' longevity

Drack likes soccer!

Peebee thinking her and Liam would be "slapstick funny" as a couple

(I forgot who made these transcripts but here they are)

[simari]

Good Ol' Days

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the patio where Enzo and Alessandra had spent the morning setting up for Easter. Spring flowers filled the tables, and the air carried the aroma of roasted chicken and empanadas. As Enzo stepped onto the patio, he felt a wave of excitement wash over him.

“Querida,” he said, pulling Alessandra into his arms, “I’m so excited to see our families and spend time with you.”

Alessandra looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with affection. “Me too, Sweetheart. It feels just like old times, doesn’t it?” Before they could linger in the moment, Enzo spotted his parents across the yard. “There’s my mom and dad!” he exclaimed, breaking their embrace. He made his way over to them, a broad smile lighting up his face. Jose and Lori greeted him with open arms. “Enzo! It’s so good to see you!” Jose said, clapping his son on the back. “I’ve missed you guys,” Enzo replied, his tone warm and genuine. Lori turned her attention to Alessandra, who had followed Enzo. “Alessandra, darling!” she exclaimed, rushing to give her a hug. “You look wonderful!” “Thanks, Lori! It’s so great to see you!” Alessandra replied, returning the embrace with equal warmth. As they shared their greetings, Alessandra noticed her own parents nearby. Angelo and Mirabella were chatting, their faces lit with joy at seeing their daughter. Alessandra approached them, feeling a familiar wave of love. “Papa!” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Angelo, who lifted her off the ground with a bear hug. “Look at you, my little girl! So beautiful!” he said, setting her down gently, his pride evident. Mirabella smiled, giving her daughter a softer hug. “You’re doing so well, Alessandra. Your new house is stunning!” “Thanks, Mom! I’m still decorating, but it feels like home,” Alessandra replied, feeling grateful for her parents’ support. “Okay, everyone!” she called out, gathering everyone’s attention. “Let’s eat! Enzo and I prepared roasted chicken and empanadas. For dessert, we have strawberry angel cake!”

The family settled around the table, laughter and chatter filling the air as they enjoyed the feast. Alessandra glanced over at Enzo, who was talking with his father. Memories of their childhoods danced in her mind—family gatherings filled with joy and love. As dinner wound down, Mirabella and Lori began reminiscing about their high school days, laughter bubbling up as they recalled old stories. Alessandra watched them with a smile, grateful that her mother had her best friend Lori over the years. After dinner, the music began to play softly in the background, and the family gathered around the patio, mingling and enjoying each other’s company. Lori approached Alessandra, a warm smile on her face. “It’s so nice to see you, Alessandra. It’s been too long. How have you been?” Lori asked, her voice filled with genuine concern. “Lori, you look great! I’ve been doing well, actually. I’m sure you saw the article about Enzo and me,” Alessandra replied, a hint of laughter in her tone. Lori nodded, rubbing Alessandra’s back gently. “Yes, I saw. I was sad to find out about your relationship that way, but it happens when you’re in the spotlight. Your mom and I always pictured you and Enzo together, but we never pushed it. You bring out a warmer side of him, Sandra, and for that, thank you.”

With that, Lori enveloped Alessandra in another hug before returning to Jose. Alessandra took a moment to chat with her parents, enjoying the warmth of their conversation. Mirabella continued to rave about the new house while Angelo inquired about her artwork and upcoming projects. As the evening wore on, the families said their goodbyes; the sun dipping below the horizon. Alessandra ended her night with a glass of wine, savoring the sweetness of the day. Yet as she settled into bed, an eerie feeling crept over her—a sensation of being watched. Despite the unsettling thought, she brushed it aside, closing her eyes and drifted to sleep.

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

AAAAYYYYE I'M GLAD YOU LIKED IT!

Yeah, since this is only the second time I've really written for Mad (so far this snippet has the most dialogue I've ever given him) I wanted to show something a little more unlikely for him. In the musicals, we've only seen all his bad, angry traits, and while those are still very prevalent here...well, emotions are already hard enough without having screws loose in your head.

I actually took a course on Criminology in college. Even before that, I was always intrigued by the psychological angle of investigative work. (Can't wait to eventually write about all the juicy, dark parts of it sooner or later...) Learning about the Bystander Effect was genuinely chilling for me. Especially since I often go out of my way to avoid confrontation. It can be both depressing and enlightening to compare that stuff to your own behavior.

Well, Casey literally just can't afford to buy Mad's claims. Even if he has a good read on how delusional he can be, there's just no coming back from all the shit Mad's done. As thoroughly performed and cool of a character Mad is, he's still completely irredeemable.

Of course I mentioned the pocket watch comic! You did such a great job with it! I'm excited to see what else you add to that part of the lore!

Yeeeaaah, no matter how clumsy he can be, Casey's got the skills and smarts! I really, really wanted to make it clear that I wasn't using him as comic relief or a helpless victim. Bro deserves better than that.

Lol, we've all seen Mad's ego. It can be pretty dangerous to set off, but it can also work as leverage against him.

Hey, listen, Azalea knows how to swallow her pride to get a job done, okay? She's efficient like that. (Also, since you bring it up: Caliban is one of very, very few people who are allowed to tease about her height, since she knows it's not out of malice. But if an enemy were to make short jokes around her...HOO BOY, it would NOT be pretty.P)

To clarify, Casey was hiding in the closet like that as a way to trick Mad. He knew he couldn't realistically get away if Mad was still in the house, so he planned to make Mad think he did. Then, after Mad rushed out to look for him, Casey would try to sneak out for real. Too bad that plan didn't really go anywhere, lmao.

(And as for Cal's little moment...keep that in mind. I may or may not try to write a little flashback scene of my own sometime in the future...😈 We hurt our characters because we love them, right??)

I really wanted to go for something that felt both childlike and unsettling. That's how irl criminals like Mad work a lot of the time; they make up stories about the people around them in their heads, and when those people inevitably don't still to said story, the aggressor thinks they have an excuse to flip out.

Sure, K.O. is shorter than Casey, but that doesn't change the fact that he's a defacto strong boi! His career is all about knowing how to throw a punch, after all...

HAHAHAHA YES MORE BADASS-PROTECTIVE MOMENTS FOR AZA!

Lmao that chair-attack was an EXACT reference to FNAF: TM! I think I re-watched that blooper like six times 🤣 Physics pale before MatPat's acting skills!

The tuna melt insult was actually inspired by that CHUCKY series from a few years ago (iykyk). I really liked it; it was one of the few times I got entertainment from someplace other than YouTube.

Don't worry; you will most certainly see more of both Phoenix and K.O. in the next snippet! Until then, I eagerly (but also patiently, because Self-Care is important. No rush at all, friendo) await your next comic!

You changed,

You haven’t

A follow up to our lovely collab with @wouldntyou-liketoknow, this is more of a flashback to kinda get into the relationship between Casey and Mad through Mad’s eyes. It may never erase what he’s done, but it may show a glimpse as to why he can’t seem to let Casey go.

Has always been, and always will be known as a monster, yet one soul decided to take a chance, to hold his hand and make him feel something more than just a monster. He was more in that person’s eyes, and he never wanted to let go of that feeling. The simple single touch of another who never views him as nothing more than a…

Shame he no longer can feel the touch.

@crazy-obsessed-enby @iswmperson @lexusinsannus @sammys-magical-au @wouldntyou-liketoknow @the-matpat-ever

He can only dream.

[pop-punklouis]

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