#been thinking about this with melody for a while

[keferon]

Writing this before I go to bed lolll anyways ~~

The ocean was much darker, much colder than Jazz had remembered. It spread out in all directions, no concrete walls to keep him trapped, no ceiling above but blue-black sky. Stars glittered, the moon’s light rippling across the surface of the water. He was free.

A few meters away, Prowl floated, gazing at the mer who’d been deprived of the sea for years. He hurt for Jazz in a way he couldn’t describe. The weight of it crushed him, knowing the mer had been kept in captivity since he was a calf and remembered next to nothing of his life before. Staring at Jazz now, Prowl could see wonder in his expression. Could see the realization dawning on Jazz that he was out, he wasn’t in captivity anymore. How could anyone do this to someone? Hold them hostage for years for entertainment? His blood boiled thinking about Jazz floating at the surface of his – their – enclosure, eyes empty and staring at nothing, bored out of his mind. He swam to Jazz’s side, concern apparent on his face.

“Are you okay?” Not the best question perhaps, but Prowl had to know what Jazz was thinking.

“I missed the stars,” the mer responded, blue eyes still fixated on the sky. “There are so many out here, I’d forgotten…” Jazz stopped then, lowering his gaze to level with Prowl’s. “I’ve forgotten everything.”

Prowl lurched at that, unsure at first how to respond. “You haven’t forgotten everything,” he told Jazz, “You have been trapped in a concrete box for years. That alone has done so much damage to your psyche.”

Jazz’s eyes lowered to the waves before he muttered, “Yeah, I’m damaged alright. Flopped fins and unable to remember my own mother.” With that, he dove beneath the waves, leaving Prowl concerned he’d scared his friend away. He dove down after Jazz.

“I am sorry, Jazz, I shouldn’t have phrased it that way,” Prowl whirled to face Jazz head-on. “You are not damaged. The way you’ve been treated is horrible, but you are not the problem.”

Jazz huffed and crossed his arms, looking away from Prowl’s unflinching gaze. “I can’t even remember their songs,” he whispered into the dark. “I can’t remember. I know my pod sang, I know my mother sang, but for the life of me I can’t remember them.”

He shut his eyes, biting back tears. He then felt a gentle pull on his wrists. Prowl pulled his arms away from his chest, taking Jazz’s hands in his. A high-pitched, warbling melody emerged between them. Prowl’s voice dipped lower, holding longer notes. He clicked occasionally, seeing through to what felt like Jazz’s very soul. The melody reawakened the memories buried deep in Jazz’s mind. He pulled at the strings, beckoning them to return to him, to remind him what the song meant. Note after note Prowl sang, and the two mers drifted together, resting their foreheads against one another. The meaning slowly came back to Jazz.

I’m here.

I will not leave you behind.

I love you.

Prowl’s voice echoed in the water around them, the melody burrowing into Jazz’s being, down to his very marrow. He felt as though his soul was being cleaned of all the dust that had gathered in the corners through years of neglect. The meaning was so clear then, Jazz buried his head into Prowl’s shoulder. The memories, his memories, of his pod and his mother and the love she had for him returned, and he ached. The need to sing erupted within him.

With a trembling heart, Jazz offered his own voice. His song was different, reminiscent of the supposed ‘calming melodies’ the aquarium played while humans were visiting. His clicks were lower in frequency and uneven in rhythm, but they fit in with Prowl’s long, higher notes. Their combined voices created a melody all their own, one that could grow and change as they did.

Prowl and Jazz held each other that way for a long time, singing softly to themselves in the dark. The ocean stopped to listen, to warm the water around the mers and keep them safe. These two, at least, had made it.

Hoping this wasn’t too inaccurate lore-wise, I haven't been able to read everything about this au, all I know is I LOVE IT. This is,,,my first time submitting a fic to someone, so I hope it isn’t terrible ^t^ thank you for reading!!! Love what you do, Keferon!!!

Oh man oh man OH MAN THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL HFCBHDBJUFD PLEASE I WANNA INJECT YOUR WRITING STRAIGHT INTO MY VEINS

[pickingupmymercedes]

The Weight of Saudade - Lewis Hamilton

genre: fluff with hints of angst

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Brazilian!Reader!

wordcount: +1K

a/n: Axé inspired fic because I'm missing Brasil. If you want to check the song it's Nobre Vagabundo sung by Daniela Mercury.

a/n 2: Axé is in iorubá (african language), it means the light in every living being, and it's used in a few parts of Brasil as a greeting. But it's also a brazilian rhythm with some of the most angsty gorgeous lyrics on love, even with its upbeat feel (my favourite cup of tea tbh)

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

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Time never asks if you’re ready as it goes on.

It just slips through your fingers, quiet and indifferent, moving forward whether you’ve had enough of the moment or not.

Ironically, I’ve spent quite a while thinking about that; how much of my life is spent watching the clock, counting down days until Lewis comes home, then counting down again until he has to leave.

It’s a cruel kind of math, measuring love in stretches of time apart instead of time together.

London is dull this time of year. Grey, drizzly, the kind of cold that seeps into your bones and makes you feel like you’ll never be warm again.

Lewis, though, is warmth is human form.

His weight is solid against me, the heat of his skin seeping through the thin fabric of my sweater where his head rests on my lap. His braids tickle my fingers as I absently trace circles at the nape of his neck, just over the tape covering his muscles, stiff from testing.

It’s been nearly a month of him in Maranello, and sure, I flew out when I could—weekends, stolen days between meetings—but it wasn’t the same.

I felt it every time I left, the cold settling each time I packed my bag to fly back. And now that he’s finally here, draped across me in the soft, lazy light of a London afternoon, I don’t want to move.

Outside, the rain taps soft against the soil. I watch it run down the glass, curling my toes under the blanket spread over us.

Without even thinking, I start humming, letting a familiar melody slip past my lips.

Lewis shifts slightly, one hand resting on my thigh as his phone buzzes against his palm. He doesn’t say anything at first, just listens, and I’m halfway through the chorus before I feel his fingers slide over mine.

“What’s that you’re singing?” His voice is thick with the sleepiness of finally being back in his own space after too long away.

Damn. I was not prepared for a pop quiz on my own nostalgia

“It’s, uh—” I clear my throat, buying time. How the hell am I supposed to translate this? It’s axé. You don’t explain axé; you feel it. “It’s a song,” I say, extremely helpfully.

Lewis laughs, turning his face slightly so I can see his smirk. “Yeah, babe, I figured that much.” His thumb is still sweeping over my hand, coaxing, patient.

I groan. “I mean, it’s—okay, hold on.” I take a breath. “It’s kind of about time. And love. And—” I make a vague gesture with my free hand— “you know. Life.”

He tilts his head up to look at me. “That’s vague as hell.”

“Because it is vague as hell,” I huff, but he just waits, smiling like he knows I’ll give in. Which, fine. I always do.

I hesitate for a second. Not because I don’t want to tell him, but because some things always sound different when you strip them down to another language.

More vulnerable.

And It’s funny—if I were talking to someone who knew the language, I wouldn’t even have to explain. They’d just get it. But here, with Lewis watching me so intently, I feel like I have to get it exactly right.

“Alright” I shake my head, but my fingers are still in his hair, softening the edges of my reluctance as search the song on my phone and let it play.

I start translating it as the song plays in the background. “How much time do I have… to kill this saudades?”

His brows draw together slightly. “Saudades” He rolls the word around his mouth like he’s tasting it again.

I nod. “My love, this jealousy—it’s just vanity. If you run away, time will soon bring anxiety. To breathe love, aspiring freedom.”

I peek at him, half expecting him to be confused, but he just nods, his expression open. So I go on, the words thick in my throat.

“I have a crazy life… and try to lead the world. I live from deep love. I perish in time. And I live for a second. Forgive me, my love, for being this noble vagabond.’”

Silence stretches between us for a moment, just the hum of the song, rain and the city outside.

And the quietness makes me feel absurdly self-conscious. I mean, I just translated a whole damn song in a overcast London afternoon to a man who knows about 5 words in Portuguese.

Lewis, as always, doesn’t let me sit in it too long. He squeezes my hand gently. “That’s beautiful” he murmurs.

I exhale, rolling my eyes a little, but he doesn’t let me dodge.

“It’s on wanting time to slow down” I say after a moment. “So you can actually be in it. So you don’t have to spend half of it missing what’s not even gone.”

Lewis watches me, his gaze steady in that way that makes me feel like he sees through my ribcage. “Yeah?”

I nod. “It’s one of the many meanings of saudades.”

His lips curve. “One of my favorite words I’ve learned from you.”

I smile, tilting my head. “Yeah, and what’s the second?”

His fingers tighten slightly over mine before answering in the most Rio de Janeiro accent you’ve heard in years. “Gostoso” (hot as in attractively hot)

And you can’t help the chuckle that escapes you as he smirks “Oh, shut up.” I flick his forehead, but he just laughs, eyes crinkling.

His face then softens, and he nods like he gets it. Like it makes perfect sense. “It always gets me how y’all manage to fit the deepest feelings in two paragraphs.”

I laugh, breathy and real, shaking my head. “It’s a skill.”

Lewis’ gaze darkens, his thumb stroking along my skin. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “But I get the feeling.”

I glance down at him, not even letting the words settle before I say them “I’m already with saudades of the time I’ll have to be away from you.”

But as soon as I say it I can’t the sigh, shifting slightly underneath him. “It’s stupid, right? We’re here. You’re home. And I’m still thinking about the next time you’ll have to leave.”

Lewis turns fully onto his back now, looking up at me. “It’s not stupid.” His voice is quiet, firm. “I think about it too.”

I don’t say anything for a second, just run my nails lightly over his scalp. “Ferrari’s making you happy, though,” I say, because it’s true. He’s been buzzing about it for weeks, despite the grueling testing schedule, despite the stress. And I love that for him. I do.

A small smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah. It’s been good. Crazy, but good. The car feels promising. And Maranello’s…” He trails off, exhaling. “It’s a dream, honestly.”

I smile, brushing a braid back from his forehead. “See? Worth it.”

His fingers find mine again. “Yeah. But still.” He lifts our joined hands slightly. “I always feel saudades of being away from you.” His smile tilts. “Did I use that right?”

A soft laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “Almost.” I brush a finger on his cheek. “But the feeling is right.”

Lewis hums, pleased with himself. His other hand slides up, pressing against my ribs, a slow, absentminded caress. “So what do we do about it?”

I sigh theatrically. “Dunno. Run away to Brazil. Hide out somewhere warm.”

His grin is immediate. “Sold.”

I roll my eyes, but his fingers tighten at my side, tugging me down slightly. “I’m serious,” he murmurs, voice lower now, lips brushing just beneath my jaw. “Just me and you, yeah?”

My breath catches for half a second.

God, this man.

I tip my head, letting my nose brush the top of his ear. “Just me and you” I whisper.

Lewis hums in agreement, tracing lazy circles on my wrist with his thumb. Then, after a moment, he tilts his head back at me, smirking “You’re gonna have to translate funk to me one day.”

I snort, shaking my head. “Yeah, not a change.”

I tilt my head, watching the way his lips twitch like he already knows where I’m going with this. “But I can show you.”

He lifts a brow, amused. “Yeah?”

I wink. “Yeah.”

His laugh rumbles against my skin as he sit up and looks at me like a kid who’s been told there’s candy.

The warmth of the moment muffles the biting cold, and for now, just for this moment, it’s more than enough.

_____________________________________________________________

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[taeyongdoyoung]

beg for you

summary: missing your ex, you stumble upon an interesting song that brings back memories you thought you could bottle up... pairing: vernon x reader genre: angst, smut, exes to online friends to lovers warnings: mentions of past break-up, reader felt neglected and lonely, insecurities, lowkey catfishing+lie by omission, swearing, song-writing themes, some serious talks, hand-holding, kissing, spitting, eating out, fingering, dom!vernon, orgasm denial, public unprotected sex (in a café bathroom), mainly lots of emotions, idk author's note: the fic was inspired by this iconic song, in particular vernon's verse and it has some occasional references to the lyrics in bold word count: 2.6k

It's been three months since you ended things with Vernon, blocked his number and all his socials and tried your best to forget about him. The reason for your break-up was mainly because you felt like he never had time for you, his music always came first and while that was appealing at the start of your relationship, it began to infuriate you and make you feel invisible towards its end. He would stand you up and forget about your dates more than once. He would make you feel like you were always his second choice. Not being around him hurts like hell, because you'd become so used to his presence that the lack of it brings so much emptiness. And also because a part of you still loves him.

One evening, you can't fall asleep so you're scrolling through some music apps. Suddenly you discover a new song. The artist hides their face behind a mask but their voice sounds somewhat familiar. Strangely enough, the lyrics just speak to you:

I don't think I'll ever feel this type of way again (This way again; Yеah, uh, yeah) I beg for you, please (Don't let go), don't let go of me, don't let go of me All the endless conversations about us been going on in our head In the night, we dream a future together and I feel bad in your bed I beg for you, please stay, I can't go a day without No, I can't go a day without you, hoo

So weird. It's like the artist knows exactly what's been on your mind for the past three months. You shut your phone off with a sigh and attempt to get some sleep. The next day, that same melody and those words haunt you. And the following day…It goes on for a while and you've become so obsessed with it that you try to do some research on the artist. Unfortunately, it's not of much help. Nobody knows the identity of the artist, how they look or their real name. It's frustrating but it is what it is. Maybe you should drop it. But then again…you really can't stop thinking about these fucking lyrics and how well they described how you've been feeling.

You decide to do something stupid and slide into the DMs of the anonymous artist. They'll probably never see this message as they have thousands of followers, but still, you need to get this off your chest somehow.

You: Hi, you probably get this a lot but your lyrics are really relatable, like they truly spoke to me and totally represent the way I've been feeling for the past three months. You're incredibly talented and I'd be happy to hear more of your music in the future.

It's a short message, nothing too crazy. You feel a sense of relief once you've sent it. You realize it doesn't matter if the artist ever sees it. You're just happy you were able to express your feelings.

To your immense shock, about 30 minutes later, you receive a notification. This is actually so insane you can't believe your eyes. The anonymous artist…texted you back?!

RevN98: Hi, this really means a lot to me. Actually, I don't get a lot of feedback, as I'm just starting out. I'll try my best to write more music. In what ways did you relate to the lyrics?

Is he seriously…initiating a discussion? It is wild enough he texted you back but the fact he wants to continue texting baffles you. But you are not one to look at a gift horse in the mouth. So, you respond rightaway.

You: I got out of a long-term relationship a couple of months ago and even though I should probably move on already, some part of me wishes my ex begged for me to stay. I know it's probably a selfish thought, considering I'm the one who broke up with the guy, but…I miss him sometimes and I keep thinking of a universe in which he'd fought for me.

After sending that message, you look at it in horror as you realize how personal it was. Why is it so easy to open up to a complete stranger? And not to people who actually know you…

You: Sorry, that was probably a whole bunch of TMI. Anyways, I really thought your lyrics were connected to how I was feeling if that makes sense.

You double text just in case. The response from the mysterious artist comes soon after.

RevN98: It makes sense, yeah. When I was writing them, I was also thinking about my past relationship. Honestly, I kind of wish I'd begged my ex to stay. I thought that by not doing so, I was respecting her wishes and giving her space. But now that it's been a while, I can't help but think I should have expressed myself better. I really miss her, though, so I guess that got reflected in the lyrics somehow.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts and figure out what to text.

You: Aw, man. Whoever your ex is, she's lucky to have such lyrics written about her. Even if it's over, maybe there's a way she finds your music and…I don't know, reconsiders things?

RevN98: Hah, that'd be a dream come true. I don't think she likes the kind of music I make.

You: Why not? Your music is great!

RevN98: Well, the truth is I was spending more time on my music than time with her. So, I guess that's one of the reasons for our break-up.

My God. This feels…too similar to your situation it gives you goosebumps. Despite that, it's like your fingers are possessed as they keep itching to text the anonymous artist back.

You: Time changes the way people feel. Maybe if you're honest with her and how you're feeling, there's a chance for a reconciliation. Or at least some closer. You should call her!

RevN98: I'd love that but she's blocked my number.

You: Use a friend's phone, duh!

RevN98: That'd be suspicious, considering I haven't told any of my friends about our break-up.

You: Dang…you're really not over this girl, huh?

RevN98: Not a chance.

You: So…what are you going to do?

RevN98: I don't know, for the time being texting you helps to ease the pain.

You: Likewise. But just to give you a heads-up, I'm not interested in any rebound relationship.

RevN98: Great. I'm not interested in that, either.

You: So…online buddies, then?

RevN98: Sounds good to me.

It is so strange how quickly the mysterious artist becomes part of your everyday life. You text each other quite often about anything. From what you've had for breakfast to what other music you've been listening to. From where you're planning to go with your friends to…how much you miss your exes. It is truly extraordinarily easy to talk to them. You still don't know much. How they look, what their real name is, where they live…But somehow it's enough knowing they're out there making awesome and relatable music.

Until one day it isn't.

You: We should meet up!

RevN98: I don't think that is a good idea…My schedule's crazy lately.

You: What do you mean? It's not like you have live performances.

You point out the obvious because from what you've gathered, maintaining this anonymity is key to RevN98.

RevN98: I just don't feel comfortable meeting in person…

You: Are you worried I'd expose your identity? You know I'm not that kind of person, right?

RevN98: I'm not worried about that. It's hard to explain. It would make sense if we met up, which is exactly why we can't meet up.

You: I'm super confused right now. But you know how important honesty is to me. So, it's now or never, I guess. If you don't want to meet up in the near future, I don't think I want to continue being friends…

You wait a couple of minutes, to give them a chance to make a decision. Finally, the response comes.

RevN98: Okay, let's meet up.

They text you a time and place. And then you ask the crucial question.

You: How will I know it's you?

RevN98: Trust me, you'll know.

This is…so cryptic. You guess you'll just have to rely on the fact that there are a bunch of photos of you on your profile, so the musician would be able to recognize you first.

When you arrive at the small café, you look around nervously, waiting. Negative thoughts keep haunting your mind. What if they change their mind in the last minute and stand you up? What if they are disappointed upon meeting you and never want to text you again? What if you were too harsh by giving an ultimatum? What if-

So many scenarios and you failed to consider the one that truly matters.

What if…you run into your ex at said café? What are the fucking odds?!

"What are you doing here?" you ask Vernon, sounding a bit too rude. Better to be rude than to burst into tears or something more embarrassing.

"Waiting for you," Vernon replies simply.

"What are you talking about?" you blink in confusion. Until it clicks…No. Freaking. Way.

Vernon sighs and takes his phone out, showing you the texts between you and RevN98. And the only explanation is…fucking hell. He is RevN98.

"Please, tell me you're joking right now."

"I wish I was," Vernon looks down, feeling guilty.

"How could you do this to me?" you inquire, eyes welling up already. You feel so weak upon seeing him.

"What was I supposed to do? You had me blocked on everything."

"What, and writing me a song under a false name sounded like the greatest idea?" you snap at him.

"I just needed to talk to you again. Somehow."

"Why? What is there to say?"

"I miss you," Vernon murmurs.

"You lied to me," you insist stubbornly.

"Please come back to me," he keeps trying.

"It's too late…" you try to reject him gently.

"I'm begging you," Vernon really wants a second chance.

You shake your head, but your hands are already reaching for his. Desperate to hold them one more time, you lean closer.

"I'm not taking you back," you keep fighting it.

"Okay," he nods.

"We're just…gonna talk, yeah? Seems a waste of my great outfit to go back home."

"Okay," Vernon repeatss.

As the two of you sit down to have a chat, suddenly all of the unsaid words and undelivered messages bubble up to the surface.

"I should have fought for you. I mean it. Music is important to me but not as much as you. You are my muse, how could I go another day without you?"

"It seems you've been doing a great job writing music without me," you say bitterly.

"Oh, yeah?" Vernon raises his eyebrows cockily. "Well, I bet I can write even better if you're back in my life."

"I was too harsh," you admit. "I let my overthinking and insecurities get the worst of me. When I broke up with you, it seems I had forgotten how much I love music, too. I was so caught up in my own dark thoughts that I didn't matter to you that things escalated."

"You had a point," Vernon chuckles sadly. "I wasn't giving you the attention you needed. The attention you deserve. I was being selfish."

"I was selfish, too," you confess. "I shouldn't have made you feel like you needed to make a choice between me and music."

"I would pick you. For the record."

"Record is exactly what you'll be making," you tease him. "I'm serious. I need to hear more of what you've been working on."

"I'd love to show you. But there's something else I'd like to do first," Vernon smirks mischievously.

He grabs your hand and takes you to the café's bathroom. He pushes you inside a free booth and locks the door behind him. He kisses you under the bathroom lights eagerly, not wanting to let go ever again.

"Hey!" you chide him playfully. "I said I wasn't taking you back."

"Too bad. 'Cause I'm taking you," Vernon says assertively.

"You…you've changed," you blink in surprise.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Vernon smiles and his palms dig into your lower back deliciously, as he kisses you again. "God, I missed this taste."

"You're insane," you laugh but you can't find it in you to deny it any longer. You want him so bad.

"Don't let go of me," he repeats the song's lyrics in your ear.

"I won't. As long as you promise the same," you ask.

Vernon doesn't say a word as he kneels in front of you. He picks up one of your legs and swings it over his shoulder as pulls your panties to the side. Suddenly, you're so grateful for your genius decision to wear a dress. He spits on your pussy and attacks your folds with his skilled tongue. You're already losing your mind over how good it feels, when suddenly, he pulls back.

You gasp in disappointment as your pleasure was so abruptly interrupted.

"Beg me," Vernon commands you easily. "Beg me to make you come."

"You're fucking insane," you refuse. You've always had a little bit of a brat in you.

Vernon, however, doesn't seem perturbed by your refusal to cooperate and sticks one finger inside you, teasing you slow enough to frustrate you but not fast enough to get you there. It hurts so sweetly you both hate and love it.

"Beg me," he repeats.

It would be so easy to do that. Just to get that sweet release…But the stubborn part of you is still stronger than the part of you that wants to come.

''Try harder," you grin cruelly.

Vernon is not one to back down from a challenge and unleashes his final weapon. He takes off his jeans and slides his hard cock inside you. Fuck. You'd forgotten how girthy he is.

"I missed you so much," he whispers in your ear. And his genuine words affect you more than his actions. And oh, how terribly you've missed him, too.

You hold on to the back of his neck, needing him for support. He keeps tormenting you, not moving a lot, just making you feel so full but so dissatisfied at the same time. You truly can't take it anymore.

"P-please, let me c-come," you beg for him hopelessly.

"There's my good girl," Vernon smiles proudly and adjusts his movements, adding pressure with his fingers so that you come in mere seconds.

"T-thank you, thank you," you chant, not knowing what demon possessed you to act this way.

"So polite," he laughs adorably and holds you close as he reaches his own high.

You don't want to let go of him ever again. But you're gonna have to, because you hear angry people who want to use the bathroom. Uh-oh.

You quickly try to clean each other up and rush outside, cheeks red with embarrassment.

You get a few weird looks from random people, but honestly, it doesn't matter. This felt too good.

"Sooo…" Vernon says once you've arrived at his chill but cozy apartment. "Does this mean you'll take me back?"

"Hmm, I don't know. Beg me nicely?" you suggest teasingly.

"Oh, you know I will," Vernon promises.

Bonus:

"Veeern, it's been hours, didn't you finish the song already?" you complain, desperate for his attention.

"Just five-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," you warn him, though you don't really mean it. You're just playing around. You know he cares about you deeply. Perhaps more deeply that he lets on.

"Won't you wait another hour or two?" Vernon teases you back.

"You know what? I'd wait as long as it takes," you smile and put your lips on his lips.

The End

[caracalla-dondus]

hi hi i hope you’re having a fab day i loved your most recent works and saw you wanted some requests so here i am i didn’t see any rules posted yet so if anything in this ask makes you uncomfy im very sorry!! but oki okie this is semi inspired by your last geta fic and so i was thinking like Caracalla x like actress reader who comes into town with her acting troop and peforms for the emperors one night when caracalla is in bad mood and readers the only one who can make him laugh while he’s in one of his moods and so geta keeps calling reader back to entertain him and sorta help with his sundowning and caracalla just gets absolutely obsessed with reader and refuses to let them leave and go back with there troop and jsut wants to keep reader all to themselves smut if you do that would be fab but if not that’s okie too!! ~🫐

Thank you for your request and kind words 😊 I hope you enjoy the fic and that it's to your liking. I wrote more than I was planning but actress!reader inspired me.

The Actress

Pairing: Emperor Caracalla/Actress!reader

Summary: Caracalla becomes enthralled by an actress one night and soon becomes completely obsessed with her.

Dividers By: cafekitsune

Author's Note: I refer to actress!reader as a mime actress but "mime" does not mean the modern day mime who wears white face paint and is silent. Mime actors and actresses in ancient Rome were entertainers who did comedy, satirical, or even erotic performances. From what I briefly read, mime actresses were some of the few women allowed to publicly perform and they performed without masks unlike most theater actors. It was a scandalous profession, often equated with sex workers, but they could gain a lot of fame from their work. Empress Theodora was once a popular mime actress before she was empress.

The grand halls of the imperial palace were alive with the sounds of music, laughter, and the clinking of goblets. All in attendance were lively and enjoying the night. All except for Caracalla. Geta could feel his brother's restless agitation beside him. Caracalla had been in one of his darker moods, his hair was unkempt from refusing to allow the servants near him, his toga was disheveled from the tussle him and Geta had when Geta attempted to get his brother presentable. Caracalla had not wanted to be there that night. Geta had hoped his brother’s foul mood would be improved by the pleasant evening of revelry, but it seems to only be worsening it. With a sigh, Geta had a servant refill his goblet and he observed his brother. Geta often found himself playing caretaker to Caracalla, whose moods could disrupt everything. Geta never liked his brother being unhappy and he was determined to change his sour mood.

"Bring in the actors," Geta commanded, waving a jeweled hand.

The troupe of actors and actresses quickly stepped before the emperors and bowed. Their costumes were vibrant, their smiles wide and infectious. Yet Caracalla's face remained a mask of irritation, unmoved by them and their antics. But then the mime actress, with her expressive eyes and exaggerated gestures, and her beauty illuminated by the glow of the oil lamps stepped forward. Her voice was melodious as she spoke, delivering lines with such charm and wit that even the spectators who were distracted by aspects of the festivities had leaned forward with interest. She captivated the audience with her presence. She said a jest, a line mocking a pompous senator that everyone secretly despised and gossiped about. And then something remarkable happened.

Caracalla laughed.

It wasn’t a sarcastic, malicious laugh, nor was it a scornful snicker. It was genuine. It was carefree. It was innocent. Geta was immediately intrigued by her effect on his twin. Caracalla was enthralled, his eyes fixed on the actress as if she were the only person in the room. She had done what no one else had been able to accomplish that night or most nights, she lifted his foul mood. No one had managed to make Caracalla laugh like that in a long while and it gave Geta an idea.

After the performance, as the troupe of actors and actresses bowed and the audience erupted in applause, Geta raised his hand and beckoned the mime actress forward. With a curious gleam in her eye, she approached the imperial box. Caracalla watched her excitedly, his eyes bright with newfound interest. Geta leaned forward and asked, “What’s your name, actress?”

She gave her name in a soft and respectful manner, bowing her head gracefully.

“You will stay here in the palace tonight. My brother finds you amusing, and I wish for you to remain and continue to make him laugh,” Geta informed her.

A flicker of surprise passed over her face, but she quickly adapted. “Of course, Caesar,” she said smoothly, her cheery nature shining through. “It would be an honor.” There was no true choice of course. To refuse an emperor was to invite ruin.

Caracalla’s volatile eyes lit up, very pleased by his brother’s proposition. “Yes! You’ll stay here,” he echoed exuberantly. “You’ll stay with me.”

From that moment forward, the actress’s life changed drastically. The acting troupe she had once called family faded away as she found herself the companion of an unpredictable emperor. While others might have rightfully felt caged after being forced into such a situation, she simply went with the flow. Her time on the streets and on stage had gifted her with invaluable adaptability and resilience. She was blessed with the kind of wisdom that comes only from having to survive on her wits alone for so long. Life was a performance after all, and she was an expert at surviving any role thrusted upon her.

Her time as a traveling actress had taught her to read people quickly. She prided herself on her ability to sense danger or opportunity in a mere glance. With Caracalla, these skills became crucial. She learned quickly how to navigate Caracalla’s tempestuous moods. When he was agitated, she knew whether to soothe him or stay quiet. When he sulked, she held him close, whispering soft reassurances, and stroking his hair as if he were a fragile boy rather than the most feared man in Rome. In moments of volatile rage, she knew it was best to step back, leaving him to tire himself out. Yet her greatest tool of all was her charm. No matter how deep Caracalla spiraled into paranoia or rage, he could never resist her when she turned playful. One kiss, one embrace, one timely seduction, and his dark thoughts would vanish into thin air. His volatile temper would melt beneath her touch, and his anger would turn into boyish giggles. It was surprisingly easy to draw Caracalla under the influence of lust. He hungered for affection, craving a closeness he’d never experienced, and she was quite generous with her attention for her emperor.

Caracalla quickly became obsessed with her.

At first, he simply wanted her near. She was to dine with him, to amuse him, to accompany him in the evenings when his mind became clouded. She spoke to him with kindness, soothed him when frustration overtook him, when he was playful she laughed at his jokes even when they made no sense, and indulged his whims with the patience of a mother tending to a difficult child. Caracalla in turn clung to her like he often does with Dondus, refusing to let her out of his sight for too long.

Caracalla would dress his monkey Dondus in tiny outfits, and she would sit beside them, smiling indulgently at the sight. Caracalla laughed at his own games, turning to her, desperate for approval like a child wanting a mother's praise. “Look! I got Dondus a new dress!” he’d say, beaming.

She would laugh sweetly, clapping her hands. “How distinguished he is!”

Caracalla adored her praise, craving her attention. She became his favorite source of comfort. Often, in the twilight hours, Caracalla would grow restless. His moods turning dark, a product of the illness that plagued his troubled mind. He would pace the room, muttering about imaginary plots, threats, and betrayals.

“Geta is against me,” he whispered one night, eyes wild. “Everyone is against me.”

“My emperor,” she said sweetly, lifting her eyes to meet his. “Do not dwell on such dark thoughts.” She approached gently, her touch gentle on his shoulder. “I’m here,” she said soothingly. “And I’ll shield you from them all.” She had learned it didn’t do much good to try and talk sense to him in these moments. If she denied his claims about Geta then he would just rage at her and accuse her of favoring his brother like everyone else does. She knew these thoughts would naturally fade on their own. But she also knew to carefully choose her words because they held the power to heal or destroy.

Caracalla’s tense body relaxed under her touch. He leaned into her embrace, eyes growing soft, vulnerable. “Promise?”

“I promise,” she whispered, gently running her fingers through his red hair as he buried his face against her. “I’ll always be here for you.”

She knew exactly how to calm his fears, to make him feel safe. She’d hold him until his fears subsided, or distract him with whispered words, soft laughter, and kisses that left him breathless, his troubled thoughts wiped clean.

Geta was initially wary of her influence over his brother, but he eventually found himself grateful for her presence. The arrangement made his life easier and lifted a weight off his shoulders and that was enough for him. Geta recognized the power she held over his brother and began to rely on her to keep Caracalla tamed. “Keep him content,” he instructed her privately. “Keep him calm.”

She understood her role and embraced it. After all, things could be worse than being the favored companion of an emperor. She had influence, luxury, and a kind of power she had never dreamed possible for herself. Caracalla frequently gifted her all kinds of extravagant things. She had silk stolas in nearly every color. She had lavish jewels. She held political sway by being a whisper in his ear. And if she had to deal with some erratic moods of his in return then so be it. She thought it was better to be under the protection of an unstable emperor who cherished her than to be accosted by random men like before when she was a simple mime actress with no one to defend her. To the palace staff, senators, and other nobles, she was no longer just a lowly woman in a scandalous profession who warmed the emperor’s bed. She was now a force to be reckoned with, the woman who had the affections of the mercurial emperor.

She became more than just a source of entertainment. She became Caracalla’s heart, his anchor to reality. She could be a mother, a lover, a confidante, or simply the pretty distraction that eased his pain. And in return, Caracalla became obsessed with her, refusing to let her leave his side. Her world became a gilded cage, but she learned to live comfortably as the lovely bird within it.

On one particularly bad night, Caracalla's rage became too much even for her to simply soothe with words. He threw things, smashing vases, wine goblets, everything in his path was being destroyed. His shouts echoing through the palace halls. But she approached when she sensed his anger was cooling down, her arms slipping around his tense form. She pressed soft kisses to his jaw, his neck, his trembling hands.

“Come to bed,” she whispered enticingly, her voice honey sweet. “Let me help you forget it all.”

Caracalla shivered under her touch, his anger silenced by desire. He cupped her face roughly, crashing his lips against hers. And just like that, the world around him ceased to exist. There was only her. Only the taste of her lips, the scent of her skin, and the promise in her eyes.

She had long learned that lust was the quickest way to control him. It was almost effortless the way she could fill his mind with longing. And as Caracalla’s thoughts clouded over, drowned by his desire, he whispered, vulnerable, “You’ll stay with me forever?”

She smiled softly against his lips. “Always.”

And she meant it. There were worse things, after all, than being the possession of an emperor.

I have no idea if I would ever write a part 2 but I do have some ideas for it 🤔 I was reading about Claudia Acte who was the concubine of Emperor Nero and who may or may not have been a mime actress at one point (I only saw it mentioned on one website) but Nero at one point desired to marry her but she came from a lowly background. So Nero had a whole fake genealogy made up for her linking her to royalty and even bribed ex-consuls to be ready to swear to her royal bloodline but this angered his mother and she prevented the whole thing lol. But that just feels like something Caracalla would do with actress!reader and something that Geta would be forced to arrange because he would want to see his brother happy. So if I did write a sequel it would probably be something like that.

Do you guys remember that House of Gucci movie Lady Gaga was in? Well I was reminded of Patrizia Gucci saying "it's better to cry in a Rolls Royce than to be happy on a bicycle" and that's kinda the mindset I was going for with actress!reader. She's been torn away from her acting profession that she enjoyed, and she should be upset about it, especially since she's the object of obsession for an unhinged emperor and has been forced to essentially be his caretaker so Geta can get a break, but hey now she's got all this access to wealth and she has major influence over one of the most important men in the empire so what does it matter if she's often in the path of Caracalla's destruction? When life with Caracalla occasionally gets too rough, she'll just wipe her tears with a silk palla and then get another expensive one made after her tears stain it lol. Her life experiences have made her opportunistic but she does also truly care about Caracalla and does actually love him.

[moraishi]

I been thinking about this for a while lately. What if Mc is Onychinus's Leader and Sylus is a hunter? I absolutely love reverse AUs. Mc would definitely have two twingirl queen worker and a cat as a spy 🐈‍⬛🐾

“You look more like a kitten instead of Miss Onychinus, honey.” Sylus murmured with a smirk, his calming tone was like a soft melody unlike the metal sounds coming from the chains around his wrists.

“Keep teasing me like this and i show you why people truly fear me, Sylus.” Your voice was harsh but there was a pure playfulness under it. Your gaze fixed on him as you examine his evol with full dignity.

[semiloml]

PLAY ME LIKE A SONG - musician! semi eita

★summary: A late-night visit to Semi Eitas dorm was never just about music. The tension between you two has been building up for weeks, and with his roommate gone, there’s nothing stopping him from playing with you instead of his guitar.

★ pairing: timekip!semi eita x reader

★ content warning: smut/nsfw, collegeAU, oral sex(female receiving), fingering (female recieving), semi is a bit cocky, pussydrunk!semi(kinda?), idk I think that’s it

★author‘s note: beginning is lowk ass since i’m only used to writing long fanfics on wattpad😔 Hope you enjoy!!

★

This wasn’t the first time Semi Eita asked you to come over so he could play you a new song he‘d been working on. Music was his second love, right behind volleyball, and he never missed a chance to get your opinion on his new lyrics or the way one of his chord progressions sounded.

But tonight felt different.

Maybe it was because his roommate Shirabu was gone for the weekend, leaving the two of you completely alone. Or maybe it was the way he was looking at you since you‘ve entered his dorm—like he knew exactly what was about to happen.

You sat on the edge of his unmade bed, trying to ignore the way your heart pounded in your chest.

„Where is Shirabu anyway?” you asked trying to start a conversation while Semi was searching for something.

He smirked, leaning back in his chair, his dark eyes flicking over you lazily.

„Probably out drinking with some of our old teammates. Why ya asking? You wanna make sure that it’s just the two of us?” he asked teasingly, his focus now back to whatever he was doing before.

His words sent a slow heat curling through you, making you turn a little red. Embarrassed, you started taking a closer look at his room.

There was barely any light in here, the only source of it was the soft glow of his bedside table lamp.

His room was small, like most college dorms, but it smelled distinctly like him—a mix of fresh laundry, the lingering scent of body wash from his post-practice shower, and something deeper, something warm and inviting. His bed was unmade and his sheets slightly rumpled.

Now you looked at Semi who had a notebook filled with half-written lyrics lying open on his desk.

Finally Semi grabbed his guitar, fingers idly strumming the strings as he spoke. „You ready?”

You nodded, watching as he adjusted the tuning, the muscles in his forearms flexing slightly. He was in a pair of black shorts and a loose t-shirt, the fabric clinging to his damp skin in places. You tried not to stare, but it was hard when he was right there, looking so effortlessly good.

Then he started to play.

His voice was low and smooth, sending shivers down your spine as the melody filled the small space between you. The heat in the room started growing with the way he looked at you as he sang, the way his voice softened on certain words—it wasn’t subtle.

By the time he finished, the air between you felt thick, charged with something unspoken.

„That was…” You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. „good.”

„Just good?” He tilted his head, watching you closely. „You look a little distracted.”

Your breath hitched as he set the guitar aside and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. The space between you shrank in an instant, his presence overwhelming.

„You liked it that much that you can‘t even talk now?” he murmured, voice rougher now.

You knew this was the moment to back off, to laugh it off like it was nothing.

But before you could say a word, Semi leaned in just enough for you to notice—the slight tilt of his head, the way his eyes flickered to your lips and back.

His fingers brushed against your knee, barely there, but enough to send a shiver up your spine.

He hesitated for half a second, giving you the chance to stop him. When you didn’t move away, he closed the distance, his hand sliding up to your thigh as his lips finally met yours—slow, deliberate, like he’d been holding back for far too long.

His lips moved against yours slowly at first, testing, teasing—like he was savoring the moment.

His hand on your thigh squeezed just a little tighter, his fingers slipping under the hem of your shorts, tracing circles against your bare skin. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, and when you sighed against his mouth, he took it as permission to go further.

Semi deepened the kiss, tilting his head as his tongue slid against yours, coaxing a soft whimper from you.

„Fuck,“ He groaned in response, his free hand finding your waist and pulling you closer, until you were practically straddling his lap.

The heat between your bodies was unbearable, his hard, toned chest pressed firmly against you, and every shift of his hips made it clearer just how much he wanted this. How much he wanted you.

Semi then pulled back slightly, his lips brushing against your jaw as he murmured, „Been thinking about this for too fucking long.”

His words sent a pulse of heat straight to your core, and when he started trailing kisses down your neck, slow and deliberate, you let your head fall back, giving him full access.

He took his time, sucking lightly on the sensitive spot just beneath your ear, before moving lower, his hands slipping under your shirt as he went.

„Can I take this off?” he asked, his breath hot against your skin.

„y-yes,“ you breathed out, barely able to form words as he tugged your shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere behind him.

His hands were on you immediately, sliding up your sides, thumbs brushing the curve of your breasts before he leaned down and pressed an open-mouthed kiss between them.

„Fuck,” he muttered against your skin, his hands roaming lower now, toying with the waistband of your shorts. „You’re so fucking pretty.”

You let out a soft gasp as he hooked his fingers beneath the fabric and started dragging them down, his fingertips brushing over your thighs as he went. He took his time, like he wanted to savor every inch of newly exposed skin, and when he finally tossed your shorts aside, his eyes darkened at the sight of you in nothing but your panties.

„Been wanting to do this for so long,” he murmured, his voice rough with restraint.

He kissed his way down your stomach, his lips ghosting over the waistband of your panties before he looked up at you, waiting for your permission.

„Please,” you breathed, barely recognizing your own voice.

That was all he needed.

Semi slid your panties down with agonizing slowness, his fingers brushing against your inner thighs as he spread your legs just enough to settle between them. His breath was warm against your already soaked skin, and he groaned as he ran a single finger through your folds, feeling just how wet you are for him.

„Fuck, you’re dripping,” he muttered, his voice tight. „All this for me?”

You barely had time to answer before he leaned in and gave you the softest lick, dragging his tongue from your entrance to your clit in one slow, torturous motion. The sensation sent a sharp wave of pleasure through you, and you let out a choked moan, your hips bucking slightly.

„Semi—“ you moaned out, trying to close your legs by a little.

He chuckled against you, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you in place. “Relax, baby. Let me take my time.”

And then he devoured you.

His tongue moved with purpose, alternating between deep, slow licks and quick, teasing flicks against your clit.

Every movement was precise, practiced—like he knew exactly how to make you fall apart. He groaned against you, the vibration sending another jolt of pleasure through your body, and when he sucked your clit into his mouth, you cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair.

„Fuck—Eita,” you gasped, thighs trembling around his head.

He moaned at the sound of his name leaving your lips like that, his fingers tightening around your thighs before one of them slid between your legs. He teased your entrance for a moment, dragging his fingers through your slick folds before finally slipping one inside you.

The stretch was perfect—deep and slow as he curled his finger just right, coaxing another desperate moan from your lips.

He pumped in and out of you at a steady pace, adding a second finger when he felt you clench around him, stretching you open as his tongue worked on your clit.

„God, you taste so good,” he groaned against you.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel as pleasure coiled tight in your stomach, your body already on the verge of snapping. The way he worked you—his fingers thrusting deep, his tongue relentless against your clit—had you dangerously close to the edge.

„I—I’m close,” you gasped, your grip on his hair tightening.

„That’s it,” he murmured, his voice thick with hunger. „Come for me, baby.”

And then he sucked on your clit hard, his fingers curling deep inside you, and you shattered.

A sharp cry tore from your throat as pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body arching off the bed as your orgasm consumed you. Semi groaned against you, not letting up, working you through every last pulse of pleasure until your legs were shaking and you were begging him to slow down.

Finally, he pulled back, his lips glistening as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were dark, his chest rising and falling with deep, uneven breaths.

„You taste so fucking good,” he muttered, pressing a final kiss to the inside of your thigh before crawling back up to capture your lips in a deep, lazy kiss.

You could taste yourself on his tongue, and somehow, that only made you want him more.

„You good?” he asked after a moment, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You exhaled a breathless laugh. „I think you broke me.”

He smirked, kissing you again, slower this time. „Nah,” he murmured, his fingers trailing lazily over your still-sensitive skin. „I think I just got started.”

And judging by the way he was already trailing down your body again, neither of you were getting much sleep tonight.

A/N: Okay so this is my first actual One Shot I‘ve written, not only on Tumblr but in general. So please be nice😔💪 Also if any of you have tips or criticism please lmk!! anyway bai!!!

[jaewriteshi]

Invisible String

Summary: They say childhood best friends never fall apart. That the invisible string tying them together is unbreakable. But what happens when love tangles itself in between?

Maeve wanted to chase the stage. Jeonghan wanted to escape his fate. But not all dreams fit into the same future, and not all love stories end with a happy ending.

And as the final note fades, she wonders… Did he ever hear the words hidden in the melody?

Matching: best friend!yoon jeonghan x idol!reader

Genre: ANGSTTTT, fluff if you squint

Note: indented parts are flashbacks, this was written by 2023 me dsauihdjkns (its basically covered with webs)

____________________________________

The interview started with me singing one of the tracks in my album “Invisible String”. 

Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs

Were there clues I didn’t see?

“Why can’t you just say who you like!” I said before chasing after him He then stuck his tongue out, trying to hide the smile that’s plastered in his face. 

And isn’t it just so pretty to think

All along there was some, Invisible string

NOTIFICATIONS: ❦: Let’s go somewhere far away from here. “You basically kidnapped me,” I said, making our way to our bus seat.  “No it isn’t, you agreed at the idea of leaving home” he replied with a grin while settling ourselves in a comfortable position.  “What is your problem?” “School. You?” “Parents.”

Tying you to me?

I opened my eyes after hearing the instrumental ending, seeing how the staff clapped their hands as well as the host. 

____________________________________

FLASHBACK TO 12TH GRADE:

“Gosh Jeong, when you mentioned you were thinking about going somewhere far away, I didn't imagine it to be to JEJU ISLAND SPECIFICALLY.” I exaggeratedly yelled, flailing my arms like an insane person. Which I am at the moment. Around 1 and a half hours ago, Jeong texted me if I wanted to go on a trip with him. Here we are, standing right infront of Incheon Airport with just our backpacks with minimal packing. Apparently, it's my fault for agreeing to it when we have our finals next week. 

Jeonghan and I have been best friends since diapers, literally. Our mothers were considered “half-sisters” from their high school days till now because of their close bond, which led some to wonder if they were related. Automatically, from the moment I was born, I’ve always had a companion by my side. Until I got older, I had no idea he would be a pain in the ass. 

I guess you could say that the name “Yoon Jeonghan” is very well known around the campus, if you think it was because of his charming looks and grades, well you’re in for a treat. 

“YOON JEONGHAN GET BACK HERE!” A teacher yelled while chasing a very familiar brown-haired man, attracting many student’s attention as well. I was supposed to be in my 3rd class by now but my curiosity got the best of me. I walked over to the parking lot, seeing people gathering around.  Oh god. Mr. Hudson’s car came into view—covered with glue and confetti, topped with pink glitter—making me snort, what a classic. I saw Jeonghan run past me, winking at me. One of my friends approached me asking, “It makes me think about how in the hell you and Jeonghan are still friends?” “I have no idea.”

I have no idea indeed. “Well where did you expect us to go? Didn’t you look out the window to see where we were going?” 

“I FELL ASLEEP” 

“Oh, not my problem. Now come on, we might miss our flight.” He said rushing inside, while I had a hard time catching up with his steps.

Being friends with him is very unexpected, like the way he pulled out my passport out of his bag once we reached the check in desk. Or maybe the way he managed to sneak out of their house without Auntie suspecting anything. Or maybe the way he got us a hotel to stay in once we landed. Or maybe the way he had extra cash with him, which means he had been planning this for some time now. 

“How did you even manage to do all this? I mean, even my passport? Are you kidding me?” I plopped on my bed, I’m highly impressed he managed to get a hotel room with the view of the beach.  “I have ways” he faced me with a grin on his face, Oh how much I wanted to smack that away so many times, “Let’s go out? I remember passing by a few shops earlier.”

In a span of just 2 hours, we managed to do some shopping (mostly me, making jeong my butler by holding my shopping bags) and food trips every now and then. Here we are sitting on a table just right by the beach, eating our ice creams. He broke the comfortable silence, making my heart skip a beat for the first time, as he said “I’m really glad I’m here with you.” I smiled at him but as I was about to share a heartwarming moment, I realized… 

“OUR PARENTS ARE GONNA KILL US” I said, making me stand up from shock. I started pacing back and forth thinking about the possibilities my mom would do once she found out. I didn’t notice how distressed Jeonghan looked as well, trying to interrupt me from my rambling. He then got annoyed and pulled my arms making me clash into his body, staring into his eyes.

“Don’t worry, they know. I just wanted to have some alone time with you”

____________________________________

FLASHBACK TO COLLEGE, 1ST YEAR:

“YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME EVE! AFTER EVERYTHING YOUR FATHER AND I'VE BEEN THROUGH, YOU DECIDED NOT TO TAKE COLLEGE?” My mother said while furiously walking towards me, I swore I saw smoke coming out of her nose.

“You didn’t let me finish-”

“I didn’t let you finish because that is the finish! What else do you need to tell me!”

“You didn’t ask me why I don’t want to-”

“Then why?!” I rolled my eyes at the way she interrupted me, have you no manners?

“Because I want to pursue my dream of being an Idol-”

“YOU DON’T WANT TO GO THROUGH COLLEGE BECAUSE OF-” “Yes! Because I want to follow my stupid dream!” I cutted her off, I swear I’m so done with putting up with her attitude. Both of my parents looked at me, shocked.

“I want to do something I finally want, something I enjoy doing! You always pressured me into doing some job I don’t want to do! It’s a waste of time for me to be honest, by the fact why did I even have a chance to live when I couldn’t make my own decisions because my mother really had to control my life just because hers wasn’t perfect!” I said while walking towards her, as if I was threatening her. 

My mother wasn’t born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Always struggling on how to live, almost surviving in this society. While my father’s was the complete opposite. An only son of a CEO, making him the next heir of the company. It’s like a Wattpad Story. Them being arranged marriage because of a deal their families made, having to live in a lie that’s written on paper. Having to live in the same house, with no love shared together. Having to fake a happily perfect life. 

Jeonghan’s no different. His parents pressure him way too much in taking law because “it’s a family tradition, dear” that the first born has to carry on. He was more suffocated than I was. My mother and his were like the evil stepsisters in Cinderella, marrying a man for their position. Funny how the story went downhill. 

She slapped me. My own mother slapped me. My father stood there, frozen, not knowing what to do. He was never a talker, maybe that’s what I hated about him. “How dare you say that” My mother gritted her teeth, almost locking her jaw. “I said what I said” while rubbing my now red stained cheeks, glaring at her. “Get out” ok when I said that shit was going down, I never expected this. 

“What?”

“I said. Get. Out” My mother said while staring at me, no pain evident in her eyes.

Silence then began to surround the house. I broke it first with a giddy-

“Fine!” I then rushed to my room, taking my already packed luggage below my bed. Finally, it’s finally happening. 

“Wait. What?” My mother said, making me stop in my tracks as I was already standing at the door.

“What do you mean ‘what?’, you told me to get out so I am” I said the obvious. 

“Yea, but I was expecti-”

“Expecting me to do what? To beg on my knees for me to stay? I scoffed. “You really are pathetic” closing the door, not even bothering to say my farewells. Before I shut the door, I heard my father’s voice finally coming out, shouting at my mother for the first time as he blamed her. What do I do now? The only person I could run to was…Him. 

_______________

Song Playing: Mine

You were in college, working part-time waiting tables

Left a small town, never looked back

I rang the doorbell of an apartment as I awaited an answer. I was freezing. I just really had to take a bus that's heater is broken. 

“Eve?” A familiar voice erupted behind me, making me flinch at the sudden sound. “Oh, you’re here” I said while sniffing my now red nose. I probably looked like Rudolph.

“God, you’re freezing” He said as he hurriedly opened the door, rushing me to sit on the couch and wrapped me up with blankets. 

I chuckled at this sweet behavior. “Do you need anything?” “No, but thank you” I smiled genuinely. He then made hot choco while trying to make a conversation by asking me how I was doing. 

I hadn't seen Jeonghan in a long time, and that was new to me. Even though we stayed in touch via chat, we never honestly discussed why he left home. He suddenly disappeared and messaged me saying he had an apartment in Busan. Yes, I did travel to Busan via bus. That is five hours. lacking a heater. I'm assuming it was for the exact cause as I was.

I was a flight risk, with a fear of fallin’

I saw him glancing at my luggages before making his way to me. “So, tell me” he said while handing out my drink,  I whispered a small ‘thank you’ before tasting the beverage. I’m surprised though at how he managed to make Hot Choco when he doesn’t even know how to cook rice. He raised his eyebrows before taking a sip, signaling me to start on why I was here. 

I placed my mug at the console table beside me. “I need a place to stay,” I said. “Why?” “They kicked me out, because of some passion I wanted to  follow” I rolled my eyes. 

“You’re still going on about being an Idol?” I nodded, in despair. “Then why are you here? Shouldn’t you start auditioning now?” I know. “I just want to save up some cash first” I made an excuse.

I suppose it was both true and an excuse, though. I first needed a few bucks since I knew that if I started off with nothing, the expenses in Seoul would kill me. And maybe also because I wanted to see him. A peaceful silence enveloped us as we just stared at the wall in front of us, snuggling into each other’s warmth.

Wondering why we bother with love, if it never lasts

“I missed you” We said simultaneously. Making me feel the oh-so-well familiar beating of a heart whenever we had moments like this. 

I say, “Can you believe it?”

As we’re lyin’ on the couch

I looked at him, also seeing him staring at me. Making me realize…

The moment, I can see it

I love the person I trust the most, the person I always think of when I'm at my lowest, the person I think about when I hear the words 'sweet' and 'loving', the person I would make exemptions for. My Best friend. 

Yes, yes, I can see it now

__________________________

NOTE: Maeve is now 20 years old

He cracked a smile as he faced me. "What?" "You look ridiculous," I do. I'm digging through his stuff while seated on the floor, and I have a ton of items attached to me. Wearing his hair clips he used to use when he had his long hair, his green puffer vest when we used to go camping, checkered scarf, and a white bucket hat. 

After two years, I had finally moved into my own apartment, whereas Jeonghan had only recently moved into his own home. We’re currently unpacking the boxes scattered on the floor. When I said ‘we’, I meant me going over his stuff being completely distracted while he fixed his clothes in the closet. 

Nothing much changed in our relationship, including the feelings that I kept from him. Since we were often together, I had to conceal the loud thumping in my chest whenever he behaved charmingly more than a friend. 

"God Jeonghan, you're being too dramatic!" I shouted angrily at him. He calmly led me into his apartment to my assigned room, "No, I'm not," he responded. "He's a coworker of mine," I mumbled. I worked part-time in a restaurant close to Jeonghan's workplace for a while. My coworkers and I had planned to stay up all night drinking tonight, but someone had to spoil our plans. As if we didn't have shifts the next day, we were already at the local bar dunking the familiar taste and burning feeling of alcohol. I mistakenly sent a message to Jeong when I intended to ask one of my friends to pick me up.  “You still don’t even know them yet” I could feel how he’s holding back from screaming at me.  His voice was firm, but there was an underlying emotion I couldn't quite place. Frustration? Fear? Maybe something more. "Jeong, I'm not a kid. I can take care of myself." I rolled my eyes, stumbling slightly as I tried to get up from the bed where he had sat me down. He caught my wrist gently, stopping me. "I never said you were. But I know you, Maeve. You let people in too easily. You trust too fast. And that guy—he looked at you like you were something to win." I scoffed. "And what if I want to be won? What if I want someone to chase after me for once, instead of always being the one left behind?" His grip tightened for a second before he let go. His jaw clenched, his face unreadable. "You're not something to be won, Maeve. You're someone to be cherished." My breath hitched. For a moment, I let myself believe that his words meant something more. That he meant them. But then he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, turning away. "Just... be careful, okay?" And just like that, the moment was gone.

____________________________________

Years passed. Life moved forward in its messy, unpredictable way.

I got my first break in the music industry. A small entertainment company took a chance on me, and before I knew it, I was training, recording, performing. The dream I had fought for—the one I had left home for—was finally in my grasp.

And Jeonghan was still by my side.

Through late-night calls, surprise visits, and quiet moments between our separate busy lives, he remained a constant. My anchor in the chaos. My best friend.

But best friends weren’t supposed to make your heart ache.

Best friends weren’t supposed to make you wish for something more.

____________________________________

The night before I left for my first world tour, I stood outside his apartment, my fingers hovering over the doorbell.

My heart was racing. I needed to tell him. Before I left, before it was too late, I had to let him know.

I knocked.

A few seconds later, the door opened, and there he was—hair messy, eyes heavy with sleep, wearing that same green puffer vest I had once stolen.

"Maeve? What are you—"

"I'm leaving tomorrow." My voice was barely above a whisper.

He blinked. "I know. I was going to call you in the morning. Wish you luck."

I shook my head. "No. I mean, I'm really leaving, Jeong. For months. Maybe years."

A shadow crossed his face, but he quickly masked it with a smile. "That’s amazing, Maeve. This is everything you wanted."

"Yeah." I forced a laugh. "It is."

Silence stretched between us. The words I wanted to say caught in my throat, tangled with fear and uncertainty.

Don't let me go.

Tell me to stay.

Tell me you feel it too.

But he didn’t. Instead, he pulled me into a hug, his arms warm and familiar. I closed my eyes, trying to memorize the way he felt, the way he smelled, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my cheek.

When we pulled away, he smiled. "Go make the world fall in love with you, Maeve."

And that was it.

____________

The lights of the stage felt too bright. The audience, the cameras, the interviewer’s voice.

It had been years. I left, we had no connection afterwards, and life went on. I chased my dream, just like he told me to. But some nights, when the world quieted down, I still heard his voice in my head.

I still saw his smile in the spaces between my memories.

I still felt his absence in every song I wrote.

The interviewer’s voice pulled me back to reality. “If you had the chance to say something to that ‘someone,’ what would it be?”

I swallowed, fingers tightening around my phone.

“I’d say…” My voice cracked. I let out a shaky breath, smiling despite the tears welling in my eyes. “I hope you’re happy. I hope you found what you were looking for.”

The audience clapped, oblivious to the weight of my words.

Oblivious to the fact that, after all these years, I was still trying to let him go.

I stood backstage, the echoes of the applause fading. The final notes of the song played through the speakers, the lyrics hauntingly familiar.

Like oceans and engines, you can't keep up with me  You're holdin' my hand but you don't understand So goodbye, for now

I closed my eyes, letting the melody wash over me.

You never knew, the bridges burned, I let the fire just bathe me.

And just like that, the invisible string that had once tied us together was gone.

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

Dancing in the kitchen

character: Cho hyun ju X Fem!reader

Summary: Dancing in the Kitchen – One evening, while cooking dinner together, an old love song plays on the radio. Hyun-Ju, usually reserved, suddenly pulls you into a slow dance between the counters, smiling softly as she rests her forehead against yours.🦑🦑

Warnings: none

The scent of garlic and simmering broth fills the small kitchen as you stir a pot of soup, humming absently. Outside, the sun is setting behind the trees, casting a golden glow through the windows.Your home in Thailand is peaceful, tucked away from the noise of the world, a place where Hyun-Ju can finally breathe.

She moves beside you, slicing vegetables with steady hands, her expression calm yet distant. You glance at her, wondering what’s on her mind, but you don’t push. Hyun-Ju has always been the type to keep her thoughts guarded, letting you in piece by piece.

The radio hums softly in the background, playing an old love song—one of those wistful melodies that make you think of stolen moments and quiet confessions. You smile, stirring the pot again, when suddenly, you feel a gentle tug on your wrist.

You turn, startled, only to find Hyun-Ju gazing at you with an unreadable expression. “Dance with me,” she murmurs.

You blink. “What?”

She doesn’t repeat herself. Instead, she slips her arms around your waist, pulling you closer. The warmth of her body seeps into yours as the music sways between you, soft and slow. Hesitantly, you place your hands on her shoulders, surprised by the tenderness in her touch.

Hyun-Ju isn’t usually like this. She’s strong, self-reliant—someone who carries her burdens alone. But here, in the quiet of your kitchen, she lets herself be soft.

She rests her forehead against yours, exhaling deeply. “This song… my mom used to play it,” she whispers. “When I was little.”

Your heart aches at the rare piece of her past she’s offering you. You tighten your hold on her, letting the rhythm guide you both in small, slow circles. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She shakes her head slightly, but there’s no sadness in her eyes—just nostalgia, something distant yet warm. “No… just let me stay like this.”

So you do.

You dance between the counters, the food on the stove forgotten for now. Hyun-Ju closes her eyes, and you swear you feel her smile against your cheek. And in that moment, with the golden light wrapping around you both and the love song echoing through the kitchen, you know—this is home.

🦑🦑🦑

[suometar]

coming into your inbox again to discuss djo’s music/delete ya. Has anyone else noticed the ties between delete ya and chateau (which honestly makes delete ya even MORE heartbreaking since chateau is obvs about the beginning of his relationship with his ex vs delete ya is the aftermath). We have the reference to joe and his head injury in both (very steve coded of him lol) eg. Chateau: “I could feel the pain Of my head, seeing stars” vs delete ya: “And now I'm back on your couch, frozen peas to my head” and then the intro “oh my god” from chateau which plays in the background of delete ya at the end 😭😭😭 also thank you for pointing out the similar sounds of the police in delete ya. I love it even more since you’ve pointed that out and can’t believe I missed it before 

You're welcome! May I also point out the riff in the start of the song that is direct nudge to Prince (that was confirmed by Joe) and the very Taylor Swift -ish type melody of "The blame complex in me, me, me" that repeats in "One heart could beat for the two of us, two of us, two of us, oh-oh-oh".

There's so much of this goodness in it it's unreal. Like, this album is going to make me respect him so much as a songwriter and a lyricist. I know I've already said those earlier but they bear repeating.

Oh god YES! You're absolutely right about Chateau. I actually had thought about the same thing, though not consciously until now. And it makes total sense. 😭😭😭

Looking back and listening to his other songs there are also references to difficulties in a relationship, like in 'Go For It'. He talks about a lot of things, how a relationship starts to erode, communication breaks, misunderstandings etc etc. It also has the line "One week, And four years". Considering Decide was released in 2022 that would fit the timeline of their relationship as well. And then they broke up somewhere around 2022-2023. And the song ends with a line "It's a harder thing to do than to say (So don't say a thing)" Does it then mean leaving without explaining or not saying a thing and just trying to keep the relationship going? Who knows.

In 'Fool' he sings about being a fool for someone else. I think it's not really about him being the cute kind of fool who makes his gf laugh but the kind of fool who believes everything that's being said to him even though he knows that he's been lied to and even knows what are the tell tale signs of the lies. Because when you love someone you choose to believe the best of the person you love. Or you choose to stay with them even though it's not fully equal relationship 😭😭😭

"There's a person behind those eyes, That's not right

Any crack is a sign of lies, That's not cool (Not cool)

Everybody needs a Fool, I'll be your Fool"

Oh and what about then 'Gap Tooth Smile'? Of course I'm not entirely sure if all the lyrics are right but the version recorded in Australia is quite clear and you can hear them. Even though he's said that it's about loving your girlfriend in general - it also has a sad ending with "God, I count my blessings from the one-eyed dove". Two doves of course is a reference to lovers. And here too he says that the love was one-sided and despite that he counts his blessings over it, even though it lasted just a while

I'm not saying that those songs necessarily are about the relationship, but from the themes of The Crux it seems clear that he's been very reflective of his own life in his lyrics even before. And that it hasn't always been easy - like no single relationship ever is. But yeah the songs from Crux clearly point that out despite him only now being open about it being his most personal album.

Like, this album has so much heartache in it and it already tears me apart.

Feel free to come and ramble about Djo here anytime :)

[turtledotjpeg]

girls who go 🧍

[toastermelody]

Qualia sisters designs GO (ft shitty mockups of their donut designs)

[bougainvillea-and-saltwater]

Okay, alright. I had about a week to bother y'all with my silly little tag games and my blorbo ramblings, so did you miss me?

As I love listening to music while working on anything, I've currently been thinking about what a theme for my characters would potentially be. You know, a melody without lyrics or something like that—just a soundtrack from a movie or series that you listen to, and for some reason, you immediately connect it to your blorbos. And I believe I end up with these choices:

For my Miraak's theme, I would choose the House Velaryon Theme from the House of the Dragon. Ramin Djawadi is a music genius—he has somehow made this track sound like a man-o'-war sailing to battle (which is perfect since Velaryons are the royal fleet of Westeros), and in my head, it's rather accurate to Miraak who's an Atmoran and I imagine his race being close to the sea with their traditional longships and all... When I listen to this track I always have this mental image in my head: Miraak being officially anointed as a Dragon Priest, with his mask covering his face, a thick golden mantle on his back, holding his staff in hand, and facing the other Priests who attend his coronation... (can't wait to write down this scene in-detail!)

As for Jia's theme, I choose Yennefer's Theme from the Witcher series. A really melancholic but slowly-building powerful melody, with some hints of burning fires in the background that come to their crescendo by the end of the soundtrack (around 4:45).

And for Miraak's & Jia's theme together, I choose the track Here's Your Destiny, again from the Witcher series. I played it again and again during writing a very key-moment scene between these two that happens in chapter 11, but I won't spoil more...👀

Okay, I really think I've been bothering people with my constant tagging, but I can't help it. I want to bask in every bit of information an oc can give me. So, I will tag my mutuals, in the hope they won't delete and block me for pestering them: @miraakulous-cloud-district, @blossom-adventures, @kiir-do-faal-rahhe, @illumiera, @b-lizi, @prettytamagnii WITHOUT ANY PRESSURE AT ALL. I'd love to listen to your tracks if you have any, but if you don't or don't want to do it, it's absolutely alright! 🥺

[katethevampire]

Oh God the musical theater is breaking into my dreams there were literally songs happening, I BROKE INTO SONG TOWARDS THE END OF THE DREAM WHILE TRYING TO DEFEAT THE VILLAIN WHAT

[master-missysversion]

Self indulgent fantasy where all the child versions of the character get pulled from time and get to play in a park together

[meringuejellyfish]

the music for the colgera battle is quite delightful (wow i just need to say i like it. goodness) its a shame i couldnt really properly hear it while actually playing on account of having to sit right next to a loud ac but listening to it fully the other day was nice. took me a few weeks but i can appreciate it now - and listen ... im a simple guy, the rito village theme being incorporated into a section of it is just wow :-( ....... big leitmotif fan. walking into zoras domain is going to kill me

[perilegs]

It's not an immediate change. When the party arrived in Baldur's gate, Nøkk became quieter. Bit by bit. You could hear him sing to himself or tell tales by the campfire less and less. If he didn't need it to cast spells, Nøkk's violin would have started to collect dust. The night before the journey to the Bhaal temple was dead silent.