#i want to know how he fits in to this entire thing

[goldfades]

HOTTEST COUPLE IN THE ROOM ───JB⁹

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2.5k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | requested! -> "Joe x Dallas cowboy cheerleader reader"

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | reader is kinda perceived as bitchy, and not a cookie-cutter dcc. lots of a banter, leads to relationship.

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | my new fav thing EVER

The bass shakes the floor beneath your heels, the scent of top-shelf liquor and expensive cologne thick in the air. The postgame party is exactly what you expected—too many people, too much noise, and a lingering sense of competition that doesn’t quite fade even after the game’s final whistle. Cowboys and Bengals players mix like oil and water, good-natured jabs tossed between sips of whiskey, the occasional laugh laced with something sharper.

You don’t want to be here.

But when the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders make an appearance, it’s not optional. It’s PR. It’s “team camaraderie.” It’s smiling through gritted teeth while some dude in a suit with more money than personality tells you how impressive it is that you can do a perfect high kick in full glam.

You adjust the hem of your dress, shifting against the leather couch tucked in the VIP section. It’s not that you’re bad at playing the part. You just don’t fit the mold the way you’re supposed to. The other girls—prim, polished, always camera-ready—glide through the room like they were born for this. You, on the other hand, are already toeing the line of “too much.” Too opinionated, too unpredictable, too unwilling to be anything other than exactly who you are.

And yet, you’re still here. Because when you dance, they shut up about the rest.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show,” a voice drawls beside you, cutting through the music.

Your gaze shifts, locking onto the last person you expected to seek you out tonight. Joe Burrow.

His suit jacket is slung over his arm, the sleeves of his crisp white button-down rolled up just enough to give him that effortlessly put-together look. He’s got that half-smirk that’s made him a social media obsession, and yet there’s something else in his expression—curiosity, maybe. Amusement.

You raise a brow. “Didn’t think you knew who I was.”

“Oh, I know who you are.” His eyes flicker, something sharp and knowing in them. “Hard to miss the cheerleader who doesn’t play by the rules.”

You tilt your head, feigning offense. “I play by the rules.”

Joe huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Nah. You don’t. You just make it look like you do.”

And there it is. The first crack in the game, the unspoken understanding settling between you like a drawn line in the sand.

It should be nothing.

But somehow, it doesn’t feel like nothing.

You lean back against the couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other toying with the rim of the drink you don’t actually want. The ice clinks softly as you swirl it, eyes flicking back to Joe, unimpressed but not entirely disinterested.

“Wow,” you deadpan. “Joe Burrow knows my reputation. I guess I can retire now.”

Joe huffs a quiet laugh, the kind that barely shakes his shoulders. “Just saying, you don’t blend in.”

You lift a brow. “Neither do you.”

His smirk deepens, just a little. “Difference is, I’m supposed to stand out.”

You roll your eyes. “God, you’re worse than I thought.”

Joe blinks, feigning offense. “Worse?”

“Yeah.” You tilt your head, taking him in. “I figured you’d at least let me get a word in before pulling the ‘I’m Joe Burrow’ card.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The smirk on his face falters just a fraction, like he’s recalculating his approach. He came over here thinking he’d charm you with minimal effort, just like he probably does with every other girl in this room. You can’t blame him. You’re used to guys like him—ones who assume that a few smooth lines and a good jawline will be enough to win you over. It’s exhausting, really.

Joe, to his credit, seems to pick up on it quickly. He shifts his stance, dropping the easy arrogance just a notch, watching you like he’s trying to figure out a new play mid-game.

“So, you don’t like football players,” he guesses.

“I never said that.”

“You don’t seem impressed.”

“I’m just not easily impressed.”

Joe clicks his tongue, shaking his head like he’s been personally challenged. “Tough crowd.”

You let out a short laugh, finally taking a sip of your drink. The warmth spreads through you, smoothing the edges of your already sharp tongue. “Look, I get it. You’re Joe Cool, media darling, golden boy, future Hall of Famer, blah, blah, blah. But none of that tells me who you actually are.”

Joe’s quiet for a beat, like he wasn’t expecting you to cut through the bullshit so quickly. Most people don’t.

He studies you. “You wanna know who I am?”

“I wanna know if you can hold a conversation that doesn’t involve your highlight reel.”

Joe grins, shaking his head like you’re more trouble than he bargained for—but not the kind he wants to walk away from.

“Alright,” he says, leaning in slightly. “Let’s make it fair. Since you’re so uninterested in my career, how about I ask about yours?”

You narrow your eyes. “Go for it.”

He tilts his head. “You always wanted to be a cheerleader?”

You pause for a fraction of a second. It’s not a bad question, but it’s not the usual small talk either. It’s got an edge to it, like he’s actually curious.

“No,” you admit. “I wanted to be an astronaut.”

Joe snorts. “Serious?”

“As a heart attack.” You smirk. “But apparently, NASA frowns upon people who talk back to their instructors.”

Joe laughs now, really laughs, and it does something to his face—makes it lighter, less perfectly put-together. It’s a nice look on him.

“So, you settled for the next most intense program?” he asks.

“Something like that.” You glance around the room, at the Cowboys players, the other cheerleaders, the high-profile guests all schmoozing and clinking glasses. “DCC is its own version of NASA. Just with more hairspray and stricter calorie counts.”

Joe hums, considering that. “And yet, you don’t seem the type to take orders.”

You shrug. “I don’t. But I’m really, really good at what I do.”

His gaze lingers for half a second too long. “Yeah,” he says, low and thoughtful. “I bet you are.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes your breath catch for just a second—not because you’re flustered, but because it feels like he actually sees you, past the sequins and forced smiles and PR obligations.

You tap your nails against your glass, breaking whatever was starting to settle between you. “Well, congrats,” you say, all light and teasing again. “You managed to hold a conversation without bringing up your own stats.”

Joe grins, lazy and triumphant. “And?”

You take a slow sip, watching him over the rim of your glass. “You’re not completely insufferable.”

Joe laughs, leaning back into the couch. “I’ll take it.”

The first date wasn’t supposed to happen.

At least, not in your mind.

But Joe had this way of slipping through the cracks of your carefully built walls, catching you off guard in a way that wasn’t annoying, but intriguing. So, when he had looked at you across that crowded party and said, “One drink. No football talk,” you had rolled your eyes, but ultimately, you had agreed.

One drink turned into three. A post-midnight drive through downtown. A completely ridiculous bet over who could name more obscure 90s songs (you won, obviously). And then, somehow, a second date.

And that was the real surprise.

Because by then, you figured you had him pegged. Star quarterback, smooth operator, probably used to women falling over themselves to impress him. But the Joe you saw away from the cameras, when it was just the two of you in a dimly lit hole-in-the-wall bar or sprawled out on his couch, eating takeout straight from the boxes, was different. He was easy in a way that felt familiar, like a song you hadn’t heard in years but still knew all the words to.

And he got you.

Most guys would tense up when you made some sarcastic comment, unsure if they should be amused or offended. Joe just smirked and shot one right back, quick and sharp like one of his passes. The banter was effortless, the chemistry undeniable, but it never felt forced.

It felt like you’d known him forever.

Which was dangerous.

Because you weren’t supposed to like him this much.

But a few months flew by before you could think too hard about it.

One minute, you were rolling your eyes at him in a Dallas bar. The next, you were sneaking glances at your phone in the middle of DCC rehearsals, trying not to smile at whatever nonsense he had just texted you.

Then came the flights.

You found yourself booking tickets to Cincinnati more often than you’d ever expected, trading in your Texas sunsets for the sharp chill of Ohio air, showing up in his city like you belonged there. And the crazy part? It never felt inconvenient. You had never been the type to rearrange your schedule for a guy, but with Joe, it was different. He made the effort too—catching flights to see you between games, showing up unannounced just to grab dinner, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

It should’ve been overwhelming, but it wasn’t.

Because nothing about Joe was ever boring.

You’d expected the excitement in the beginning—the flirty back-and-forth, the teasing, the lingering looks that stretched longer than they should. But what you hadn’t expected was the way he made everything feel lighter. How he made you laugh when you were dead on your feet after an exhausting game day. How he somehow always knew when you needed to talk and when you just needed to sit in comfortable silence.

And yeah, the tension was there. Always.

You weren’t blind, and Joe sure as hell wasn’t either. There were moments—when his hand lingered on your lower back a second too long, when you caught him watching you with that unreadable expression, when he pulled you into a hug that felt like it meant something more.

But neither of you pushed it. Not yet.

For now, it was enough to just exist in whatever this was.

And, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t in any rush to define it.

The New York City skyline stretched high above the venue, lights twinkling like they were in on the secret that tonight was something different.

Joe didn’t hide you.

He hadn’t from the start, really, but there was a difference between showing up for each other in private and standing next to him now, his hand resting low on your back, his fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress like he wanted everyone to see exactly where you belonged.

And you?

You looked good enough to ruin a man’s career.

Your dress was the kind that turned heads—sleek, with just enough edge to remind people that you weren’t the typical quarterback’s girlfriend. Joe wasn’t intimidated by it, wasn’t the type to shrink when his girl demanded attention. No, if anything, he was thriving on it. Walking into the party with you on his arm, chin high, like he knew for a fact that you were the hottest couple in the room.

And you were.

It didn’t matter that the place was full of some of the most famous athletes in the league, that models and influencers and A-listers milled around with expensive drinks in hand—no one looked as good as the two of you together.

Joe left you only once, leaning down to murmur, “Gonna get us a drink, don’t go too far.”

You weren’t worried about being left alone. You’d been in these rooms before, could handle yourself just fine.

But apparently, someone didn’t get the memo.

The moment Joe was out of earshot, a presence settled beside you—too close, too confident.

“Damn, haven’t seen you in a minute.”

You already knew you were going to hate him before you even looked.

And sure enough, when you turned, there he was. A Cowboys player, one you’d interacted with just enough to know he was exactly the type you had no patience for. Cocky in a way that wasn’t charming, self-important in a way that made your skin itch.

You barely had time to open your mouth before he bulldozed on.

“So, what, you finally got tired of playing in the kiddie pool and upgraded?” He grinned, not even waiting for you to respond. “Figured it was only a matter of time. The whole ‘untouchable cheerleader’ thing was getting old.”

You smiled. Smirked, really. Because this? This was amusing.

He thought you were flustered. Thought you were scrambling for a way out.

Like you hadn’t been shutting down men like him since the first time you ever put on that DCC uniform.

“Oh, yeah,” you said, voice smooth as silk. “Joe’s an upgrade, alright.” You tilted your head, eyes dragging over him in an exaggerated once-over. “But considering what I was working with before, it really didn’t take much.”

His smile flickered, but he was too stubborn to let it go. “C’mon, you don’t have to pretend with me. I know you, remember? Back when you were just another Dallas girl trying to play hard to get?”

You actually laughed at that.

Not a fake, polite one. A real one. Because this was just sad.

“Wow,” you mused. “I’ve gotta give it to you, you commit to the bit. Most guys would’ve tapped out by now, but you? You’re still going. That’s dedication.”

His jaw tensed just slightly. “I’m just saying, no need to act all high and mighty. We both know you used to—”

“Used to what?”

Your voice was still sweet, still playful, but the underlying steel was there. And when you took a slow sip of your drink, watching him over the rim, it was clear you were letting him dig his own grave.

Before he could figure out how to claw his way out, a shadow loomed beside you.

Joe.

But not in the swooping, Oh no! My girl is in distress! way.

No, he was calm. Casual. Like he had all the time in the world. His presence alone was enough to shift the energy in the conversation, but you didn’t even acknowledge him yet. You wanted to see just how long it would take for the guy in front of you to realize he’d lost.

Turns out, not long.

Joe didn’t say anything, just leaned slightly against the bar, watching with mild interest. But the weight of his presence alone did something to your uninvited guest—made him shift uncomfortably, made his easy confidence crack just a little.

And that? That was satisfying.

“I was just catching up with your girl,” the Cowboy muttered, backtracking so fast you almost wanted to laugh.

Joe didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah?” He glanced at you, finally acknowledging you with a knowing smirk. “You having fun?”

You took another sip, grinning. “Oh, loads.”

The guy beside you tensed. “I was just—”

“Leaving?” you supplied helpfully.

His mouth opened. Closed. Then, without another word, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Joe chuckled, finally handing you the drink he had left to get. “You were having way too much fun with that.”

You shrugged, taking a sip. “Can you blame me?”

He shook his head, draping an arm lazily around your waist, pulling you in just slightly. “Guess not.”

And the night went on.

Just you and Joe. The hottest couple in the room.

[pseudonymousposting]

Just use the word from before. You don't really need to worry about having a different word for everything unless the difference serves a purpose.

If your story is first person or primarily follows a specific POV or is told by a specific narrator, wouldn't it make sense that the storyteller is not a walking dictionary?

When people speak, they tend to have patterns anyway, and you don't notice them unless you're looking for it. I can refer to Hbomberguy's bit in his plagiarism video where he mentions that an AI asked to write a segment in his style uses the words, "buckle up." This points to how he uses that phrase often.

He jokes that this is because he's bad at writing. I beg to differ. The consistent use is really fucking good, actually, and I hope he doesn't correct for it in the future.

The pattern, when used specifically by him, has certain implications that will prompt a fan of his videos to notice when he is making a salient point integral to the theme he is conveying throughout the entire video. You also know that the example he is about to use is probably pretty goddamn funny, or notable, or egregious. Maybe you noticed that before. Maybe. If you've watched all of his videos, like twice each, at least.

If you're a fan of Dimension 20, it's quite likely you know all the words Brennan Lee Mulligan uses ALL the time.

Rad

INcredible

Hell yeah

All are little communicators from him as a DM. They're used so often, even casual watchers meme about it. Also Matt Mercer saying "how do you want to do this." Also make note, if Brennan Lee Mulligan starts monologuing with a question, brace yourself.

The use of these common, consistent, repetitive phrases actually communicates more. It would be ridiculous if Brennan Lee Mulligan got shy about using the same term and clumsily said "inferno affirmative," or something. Unless he was purposely doing it as a clunky bit just for laughs, and even then, doing it unprompted would just get a blank stare at this point. The repetition has a benefit, not a deficit.

Your peerless vocabulary is not the most important component of your craft. Your story is. Care less about finding a million different words to say the same thing, and focus more on saying what you need to say. Story good, not word good.

When people read a story, they might say "the plot was well constructed." Or, "the suspense kept me on my seat." Or, "I laughed so hard."

You know what they won't say? "There's was a nice diversity of words there. The writer did a good job of making sure they didn't use a word twice on a given page." I'd argue that if that's what a reader notices, the writer failed to craft a good story.

Complimenting a person on their extensive vocabulary is more a thing an adult does for a 'gifted' child. It's better to write an excellent narrative at a 3rd grade reading level than to write a bad story at a collegiate level.

Hell, it's better to write a good story at a 3rd grade level than it is to even write an amazing story at a collegiate level. You're communicating. Make sure you are doing so effectively first and foremost. Everything else is just fluff.

This falls in line with the thing where people will try to cap off quotes with unnecessary modifiers where "said" does just fine and is almost invisible. Y'know, the ol' "'snape!' Slughorn ejaculated." Why say many words when few words do trick, eh?

Not to say finding the right synonym isn't useful. Sometimes, a synonym carries specific implications or a slightly different meaning more suited to that particular use case. In this case, that synonym might actually be a better fit to serve your purpose.

Alternatively, it's possible the character could be more likely to use that word over another for any particular reason. It can speak to who they are in a way that can help you avoid a little exposition here and there. Hell, using outdated terms might do the same.

For example, a now deceased man who was an instructor before I flunked out of college, who was nearly 90 years old. I think he sometimes used stories from his career to try and provide a point without giving answers.

He started one such story with "there was this guy I worked with a long time ago. He was uh ambidextrous, yknow what I mean? Uhh, he was a switch-hitter or a uhh..a bisexual..."

I'm not gonna lie, I was fucking awestruck at the term "switch-hitter," referencing bisexuality. That term instantly made me a patriot for about two weeks. I'd never heard anything more apple-pie, bald eagle with a single tear, and inside the tear, you can see the twin towers, Ole Glory waving proudly in the background with fireworks bursting over the top motherfuckin AMERICA than "switch-hitter" meaning "bisexual" holy shit.

Anyway, shortening things, I flunked out, met my abuser, and fled town because I just couldn't live in the same town as them anymore. He called to check on me.

He told me he keyed in that something was wrong and felt the need to check in. He believed my story. He said a lot that helped me with my recovery.

Part of my story involved the fact that I'm trans, as queer relationship dynamics were, like, central to the abuse. Interestingly, unlike many people in their 40s, 50s, and 60s, this man pushing his 90s understood every single damn word of what I was saying.

I bring up this story because of the synonyms he uses and how we can think about their use in context. My mind trails back to the term "switch hitter," a 1960s slang term for bisexual used right after "Ambidextrous," an earlier term. Of course, the man immediately understood all this queer mumbo-jumbo I was saying and didn't flinch even a little about my being trans.

However, its use from a 90-year-old right after "ambidextrous" tells an entirely different story. It drops a hint that this guy may have been, at the very least, accepting of people who were involved in the gay rights movement during the time.

Desperately seeking a synonym for "bisexual" might yield you to terms which are today potentially offensive or harmful, but before the 1970s were descriptors that bisexuals would sometimes use to describe themselves. So, depending on who uses that term, it could be harmful, or it could be someone who fought against that harm long before that term ever had potential negative implications.

Also, note how many times I just said, "bisexual?" Did it feel repetitive? Probably not.

If the use of the synonym serves no purpose other than feeling like you need to use a different word, consider, "Why am I really looking for a synonym, here?" If it doesn't serve a specific purpose, then feel free to just use whatever word makes sense. If it matters for one reason or another, use that. Just use what works. This ain't a vocabulary test. You don't need to impress your middle school English teacher anymore. You're free.

[ventique18]

Dragon Malleus headcanons

You're used to how he looks in his two-legged fae form. Everyone is, honestly. But the thing is, that's not really how he truly, originally looks like. And though he knows his form of flesh is just as much of who he is as his origin, there are times when he undergoes some sort of withdrawal; a primal need to be back in the skin he was molded in. So he would occasionally spend a few days living his life as a gigantic dragon.

He doesn't particularly like being in his dragon form. He knows he's glorious and takes pride in that, of course, but it's just that it's so inconvenient. He can't fit in places. He can't grab things. He can't make gargoyles. He has to eat an entire town's worth of food just to not be hungry. But most of all, he can't really feel.

He's extremely durable. He's already impervious to damage in his humanoid form, but even more so as a dragon with walls and walls of the hardest material on Twisted Wonderland permanently attached to his body. Which is great, of course-- it's essential to his survival, but it comes with the caveat that no matter how much you touch him, no matter how much you try to show physical affection towards him, he simply cannot feel.

But there is one part of him that's soft. Something that isn't covered inch to inch in scales. His tongue.

So what best to take advantage of this little weakness than to cover you head to toe in slobber, of course?

Take note that him doing so doesn't imply anything malicious (unless you want to, of course). It's just that it's so easy to feel your presence by licking you. He can touch you without accidentally hurting you. And, as much as he refuses to admit it to avoid sounding like a pervert, being able to smell your familiar scent gives him a tender comfort. A sense of welcoming even in this world that refuses to welcome him in his rawest form.

But being covered in slobber isn't exactly the best feeling in the world. When you tell him that, the... fins on his jaw draw back, and he plants himself on the ground; snout partially buried behind his curled claws. Dragons aren't particularly expressive, but you can safely guess that he's feeling guilty of bothering you.

So you offer to help him find somewhere else to touch. He's a bit hesitant-- it seems dragons don't like the idea of exploring their weaknesses, but he agrees because it's you.

And would you look at that. He can feel you when you vigorously rub his belly. The feeling isn't really as detailed as his tongue's, but he can feel something. And it feels rather... Rather... Relaxing. He's huge though, so from your perspective it's like washing a car, but with exaggerated movements as a stroke from your height's head to toe is like scratching a spot for him.

It's tiring, but you persist with the power of love.

So this becomes a habit for you. When he transforms into a dragon, he would ask you to rub his belly, or ask for your permission to be licked if you don't look like you're in a bad mood that day. All of this is done somewhere private, of course.

So when someone would walk in by accident... And witness their prince rolled over like a dog, getting petted on his tummy... It goes to say that the dragon would be gone in a flash; replaced by a very angry, very threatening unit of a man very politely asking the intruder if he saw something. Of course the answer is always "not a single thing, sir!".

You laugh, and ask if he wants to continue with what you were doing. He sighs, refuses, and says he's not in the mood for childish amusement anymore.

"But... I can think of other, more enjoyable things we can do together."

And so the dragon, now in his villainous, irresistibly devilish form, whisks his prisoner away to a place no one knows.

[fangirltothefullest]

You know.... tumblr is the only place I've ever felt like people can match my brand of neurodivergence. And I'm not talking about the weird conversations or funny posts either. I just mean in general conversation and interaction.

I've been in a small room with 12 other strangers for this soft skills class I have to take for this program that's helping me get a government job as someone with adhd and I just..... feel like such an alien when I'm in the room with them? They're all different ages and some are even around my age but it's like I'm pretending to be a person for them just as I would be doing around neurotypical people.

I am constantly masking in front of these people that are supposes to be like me.

More than one have adhd like I do but they're so different than me? There's so much unnecessary laughter that feels so forced and fake? All anyone wants to talk about are sports and parties and alcohol and drugs. Its exactly likw it was in every other social situation ive ever been in. "Who last partied and got black out drunk"- "my party days are over but i can still knock back a 12 pack of whatever and function just fine"‐ "last weekend i partied i got too high to remember my name-"

Or who rooted for which sportsball team and why the spoinklers are better than the spronklers. The sprunklies had a great pass but they called it too much for the spranklies and it was all rigged. I would stop watching it but I like mr pitcher-catcher-thrower-frontguy and if he can make it this year he'll win them for the whateverchampioncup for sure.

I feel like an alien studying an entirely different species.

Like is this how people always interact? Is it all fake nonsense or is it code? It feels like it's all in code and I just have no fucking idea what that code is.

Cause like I can tell none of them actually care! I KNOW we are here for a soft skills class but like.... this isn't soft skills this is high school locker room. This is people desperately trying to fit in. Soft skills are keeping things civil and connecting with fellow humans.

This didn't feel like forming connections, it felt like pretending. It felt like showing off. It felt like people vying for their chance to be in the spotlight. It felt like America's next top banana.

We were told not to talk about religion, politics, sports and personal lives at work because all it does is start drama at the workplace. What did they proceed to do? Talk about every single subject on the no-go list the moment we'd agreed not to. Did they think "no" was code for "do this immediately"?

Like is it me? Am I really so confusingly alien that even the people that are supposed to be like me, that also have adhd, are just so different?

And I come here on tumblr and yall get me.

I post about making a PowerPoint about the most fuckable pasta shape and yall are like drop the PowerPoint.

[etherealrin]

⋆.˚ call it what you want.

in which proplayer!sae could care less about what the media was calling you two, if it means being with you again

warnings: none // wc: 647

note: fem reader! badly proofread

the star midfielder of re al, itoshi sae, has a spotless reputation. there wasn't a single stain on his image, not one rumor or dating scandal. it was a matter of heated debate online; there were multiple twitter threads regarding sae's love life. was he truly single? perhaps not into women at all? did he have a secret relationship with another celebrity? if he did, he was remarkably good at never being caught.

so when a photograph of sae leading a girl to a secluded room, shot at an angle where one could only see a flash of glimmering hair, goes viral, the entire internet was wholly appalled.

sae scoffs as you read another article from your phone's news feed to him. "hey, look at this!" your tone is joking as you point towards the device's screen. "they're questioning if i'm some top hollywood celeb. is it because i dyed my hair recently?"

"love, that's stupid. you know dispatch reports more lies than truths." he replies, nose wrinkling at the thought. sure, you were beautiful, more so than any actress, but he really didn't enjoy all of the media speculation he recieved. was it so wrong of him to want something normal, to have a private relationship?

you'd known sae since before he went to spain, when you were just two simple kids trying to go through life the right way. when he had left, it'd caused a huge buzz in your town, japan finally receiving international attention for football. and you'd long since been regarded as sae's closest friend, so everyone was clamoring to ask you: would he ever come back? the drama queens threw their fits (sae had no shortage of admirers even then), many people called you a liar when you said that you didn't know, the pressure caused you to isolate yourself—done with how nosy the world was being. and of course, you missed sae more than anything. you'd mindlessly twist your fingers through the silver necklace he gifted you right before his flight, the 冴 character shining in the pale moonlight. no one else knew the words he'd suddenly whispered into your ears before he boarded without sparing a glance back; "i love you, i'll swear i'll see you again."

you'd kept that necklace for years, until itoshi sae appeared in japan once more, to play for a mysterious soccer match; and a front row ticket was mysteriously sent to your email. which you had never changed from before he left. nervous anticipation floods you, you were about to see your best friend who you hadn't heard from in years. when you finally spot him on the field, he looked nothing less than a daydream, dark pink locks impossibly perfect even against the wind and sweat. as he's being introduced, sae's gaze somehow found you amongst the crowd—you might have died. though he knew you would show up, he couldn't help but look for extra assurance. and you couldn't have predicted the whirl of events that happened after. his manager pulling you aside, saying that "itoshi sae needs to meet you," sae walking towards you with his head down, evidently trying to avoid the paparazzi, grabbing your hands and guiding you into an empty interviewing room; teal eyes glimmering with unsaid words.

your lips inevitably crashed into each other, you both had heard the cameras click and seen the flash of brilliant white, but none of you cared. "at least i did one thing right," is what sae had murmured after a few minutes, deft fingers tracing across your cheeks. his eyes flickered over the chain he gave you, one you'd never taken off. the media could call it what they wanted, because in that moment it was only you and sae. though perhaps it had always been that way—all it took was for one of you to see it.

a/n: dude i'm so obsessed w this song rn. also i finally stopped slandering sae who would've thought this day would come so soon!

masterlist.

[trippinsorrows]

made for me

authors note: so, the combination of roman's hair and seth's fiendish attack on tribal daddy during the rumble inspired one scene that turned into this. i tried super hard to get it to fit with og ltye, but that wasn't happening. so, it's set in the world of this random au i wrote forever ago.

warnings: fluff, angst

words: 5.4k

It’s not that Roman hates Seth and Punk.

Hardly. 

No, hate is not a strong enough word to describe what he feels toward those two men. Too much history, too much betrayal, too much pain is imbued in the past and connectivity of all three men for Roman to water it down by just calling it hatred.

They haven’t created a word to accurately describe what he feels towards and about them. The visceral emotion that courses through his big, heaving body as he destroys his entire locker room. Chairs turned over, tables smashed against the wall, the same wall that has a decent sized hole following Roman smashing his fist into it.

Same with the door. 

A form of rage burns and rips through him as he lays waste to his room, unable to settle himself and push away the flashes of the interference. Of how he was in the zone, laying blow after blow against his opponent, McIntyre. As expected, Roman was in control, once again proving his prowess in all the areas, his dominance and authority.

All of which was challenged by interference. Fucking Punk and Rollins. 

Roman doesn’t know how they made it past security, but someone will die for such a big fuck up. Because they’d tried, and to some extent, jumped Roman. Calling themselves trying to prove Roman’s mortality, trying to deface the legacy and imprint of the Tribal Chief.

It didn’t work, of course, just like it didn’t last time. But, Roman still got roughed up in the process, sustaining a few injuries he knows are only going to be exacerbated by his violent outburst, but he can’t bring himself to care.

This level of…..fury needs to be released. 

It has to. 

Three, tentative knocks to the door rip Roman from his hateful ruminating while also spiking his irritation. “I said I want to be alone!”

Obviously, someone has a death wish, because the next thing Roman sees is the same door opening slowly. The flustered, red face of his chief advisor—potentially former—appears in the ajar doorway, his eyes filled with well-deserved fear. “Sir—”

Roman has never been so tempted to murder someone so close to him. “Get….out.”

The redness deepens, the fear exponential, as he stutters, “I—si—you—”

Roman starts stalking toward said door when Paul disappears, the door opening wider to reveal that he’s not alone. 

Instantly. 

Instantly, Roman notices the shift. He feels it more than anything. The way the unlimited rage starts melting ever so softly, still strong and pungent but dissipating. 

He’s still livid, still filled with so much fury he doesn't know what to do with, but it’s tucked away just enough for him to grit out. “Leave us.”

Paul doesn’t need to be told twice, his Wise Man disappearing like a thief in the night leaving Roman alone with the one person he both does and doesn’t want to see. 

She turns to shut the door. Quiet and gentle. Much like herself. He hears the click of the lock and watches how she surveys the room, expression unchanged. Like the destruction that surrounds them is something familiar and normal to her. And, then she’s looking at him, studying him. Head tilted, small smile on her pretty face, she closes the distance between them.

Roman looks away and closes his eyes when she’s close enough for her sweet, gourmand perfume to hit his senses. Still refuses to look at her as she lifts her hands to his face. Assessing him, assessing the extent of his injuries.

“You need stitches.”

Something he already knew but didn’t care to address, much preferring to unleash all of his rage and beyond in the setting before them.

“What are you doing here?” Because that’s the better question. The most important one. The thing that has his anger spiking once again. She shouldn’t be here, and she knows it, and yet, she stands before him.

But, it’s when she answers quietly, vulnerably, that his anger dwindles just a bit.“I wanted to see you.” Roman sighs. Another thing he already knew. It’s the only reason she would go against the protocol of things. “Afia took me….”

That makes all the sense. He knows how close they’ve become, just like how he knows that his sister-in-law marches to the beat of her own drum. She does what feels right and aligns with her convictions. 

Even it goes against all of the protective precautions Roman has set in place.

He ignores the way she lifts her hand to his hair, pushing some of it back and out of his face. “This isn’t the way to see me.” A calm counter to match the soothing effect of her touch, a balm to his vexation. “I don’t….I don’t like you seeing this side of me.”

“And what side is that?” There’s a hint of humor in her voice as she transitions to massaging his scalp in that way she knows he likes. Loves, even. “Have you forgotten how we met?”

At that, a chuckle is emitted. The first thing he feels outside of the anger range since the start of the evening. 

Never.

Never could he forget that first of many run-ins they had until Roman grew tired of short interactions, grew tired of teases and taunts that led to nothing more but constant wondering and thinking. About her. The way she occupied so much mental real estate should have been studied, especially for someone like himself who never looked for anything more but sexual satisfaction from women. 

But, not her. 

She was different.

Then 

Roman was pissed, a conversation with his cousin escalating into something unnecessary, largely due to the alcohol coursing through Jey’s system. What started as a night of Roman and his two right hand men—and cousins—spending some rare free time at one of the Bloodline owned clubs turned into Jimmy playing mediator, separating his twin, Jey, from their cousin, Roman.

Two titans needing space before leveling the establishment. Hence Roman being the one to walk away, to find a slice of solace outside, aided by the surprising breeze. He’d run his hands over his face, reminding himself that nothing was gained by making an enemy out of one of the few people on this earth he trust.

Jeu was irksome, but he was still family. And at the end of the day, Roman knew this would pass over just as it had the times prior.

Didn’t make it any less fucking annoying to have to deal with the shit though.

Finally feeling settled and calm enough to be around his family without it turning into round two, Roman was making his way back inside the club, going down the hall when he spotted his other cousin, a distant cousin, Tama, talking to a woman. One hand planted on the wall, the other at his side, it was obvious he was trying to sweet talk her, something Roman paid no attention to.

Until in passing them, he heard it, heard the woman’s voice. Lighter and softer than anything he’d ever heard. 

“I’m not interested,” she’d protested, something else present in her tone that gave him pause. Fear.

She sounded scared.

“Can you please move?”

Tama said something in that slithering voice of his that Roman always found annoying as shit, but he didn’t move. No, when Roman turned around, he’d in fact moved closer, reaching to touch the woman who turned her head away.

“I said move.” A bit firmer, less scared, but the anxiety was still audible. 

Tama said something else, edging closer, prompting her to lift her hands to push him away, but she was too slow. One wrist in his tight grasp. “Let go—”

“Leave her alone,” Roman interjected, his voice surprisingly calm despite the anger flowing through him. The Bloodline has strict rules when it comes to women and children, and his cousin was violating just about every one of them.  

Tama looked over, boredom and irritation on his face. “This doesn’t concern you, Roman.”

And just like that, whatever lid Roman managed to cap on his anger was being toyed with. Dangerously close to being lifted. 

Roman took a step toward them, the woman turning to look at him. Brown locking with brown. Fear with determination.

For a brief second, Roman found it hard to look away, her beauty something he hadn’t seen in some time. 

If ever.

“Did I ask you a question?” Was Roman’s harsh retort as he stared at his cousin. “Or, did I give you a fucking order?” Once more. The last time. “Let…her go.”

The influence of alcohol clearly had to be on his cousin, because the last thing Roman saw was Tama rolling his eyes as he prepared another disrespectful disregard of Roman’s command. “Come on, I’m just—”

Roman never found out just what Tama’s excuse was. He was too busy snatching him up and away from the woman and slamming him so hard against the wall that Roman was certain he was concussed. Lifted up, legs dangling, Roman had his forearm over Tama’s neck, severing oxygen. 

His cousin’s wide eyed look of shock and horror much more pleasing than it probably should have been. “When I say to do something, you do that shit, you understand me?”

Tama continued to look terrified, struggling to reply due to lack of oxygen. Roman held him up long enough to see his skin turn red and his eyes bulge until he dropped him. 

Tama fell to the floor, coughing violently, as Roman nodded away. “Get the fuck out of here.”

Out the club. Out his life. Hell, out the Bloodline for all Roman cared, so long as he was away from the nameless woman with captivating beauty and enchanting eyes. 

That time around, Tama didn’t need to be told twice. Scrambling to his feet, he made himself scarce, leaving just two instead of three.

Rolling his eyes, already done with this shitty night, Roman turned to her but found himself staring once more.

Despite his disagreement with Tama’s approach, Roman could understand why his cousin was interested in the first place.

Not only was she beautiful, but the body matched in every way. Nice, full breasts accentuated by the open neckline of her dress, full thighs and a bountiful ass to match. Stacked in all the right places even with her short stature.

It was momentarily distracting, but Roman found it in him to ask, albeit gruffly, “you alright?”

Her eyes were wide this time around, though filled with less fear. More confusion than anything. Still, she nodded, opening her mouth with a quiet reply. “Th—thank you.”

Something unfamiliar filled Roman hearing her voice again. Much too sweet. Far too innocent. 

All the intriguing. 

Roman’s expression intensified as he found himself unable to keep from asking, “what’s your na—”

“Sola!” Another interruption, this time female, but an interruption nonetheless. Roman turned to see another woman, about the same height as the woman she called “Sola.” She cast him a glance, nervousness unmistakable. Shuffling over, she grabbed the woman’s arm, harshly whispering something in another language. She then offered an apologetic glance. “So sorry to bother you, Tribal Chief.”

The bothering was the interruption of his planned introduction, and Roman planned to say as such when she ushered the woman away, all while continuing to harshly scold Sola.

The same Sola who kept looking back at him. 

The same way he was looking at her. 

Now

Roman saw her three more times after that, each occurrence happening the most serendipitous of ways. 

Then

Jimmy’s ass was always hungry. Had been that way since they were kids, always snacking, wanting to snack, or thinking about snacking.

Always at the most inconvenient times, too. Like, when they’re supposed to be headed to a meeting and time to spare equals time to eat for his tapeworm having ass cousin.

“Man, you know I love Mexican food,” was Jimmy’s excuse as he, Roman, and Jey walked into the Mexican restaurant they spotted while trying to find a place for takeout.

“You love all food,” was Roman’s disgusted resort. He’d much rather arrive ahead of time than right at time, but he was outvoted by his cousins. Hence his presence. 

The three of them walked through the partially crowded restaurant, up to the counter where Jey didn’t hesitate to ring the bell.

“Someone will be with you, shortly,” someone, an employee cleaning off unused tables, informed. Jimmy nodded as a sign of thank you, while Roman continued to type on his phone, at least relieved by the fact his Wise Man was already present and waiting.

Some kind of Bloodline representation was better than none.

“Hola!” His head lifted the minute he heard it. The same saccharine tone and the same pretty face he’d laid eyes on a few weeks ago. Their gazes locked, recognition dawning on her end as well. A different setting. She wasn’t as dressed up as she was that night, sexy little dress traded for an apron covering a short sleeved shirt that hugged her ample chest.

Roman hardly ever found himself dumbstruck, but he was most definitely feeling as such in that moment.

“Hola!” Jimmy’s jovial voice broke their stare, something only Jey seemed to notice, Jimmy too consumed by his hunger. Like they didn’t eat before leaving the damn house. “Never been here before, but—” He sniffed the air, rubbing his hands together. “Sure does smell good.”

Shock continued to settle until eventually wavering. “Uhh, yes, sorry. We—it’s good.” She added, almost nervously. “The food, it’s….it’s good.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Jimmy winked and looked over at the menu. “Now, uhh, I usually stick with my chimichanga’s, but I’m in the mood to switch things up.” 

Jey glanced at her, making a mental note to ask Roman what that was all about once they got back in the SUV. “What do you recommend?”

She was flustered, face turning red as she pushed back flyaways. “Ummm……” Eyes shut, she opened again with a renewed sense of focus, clearly trying not to think of how Roman continued to look at her. Only her. “The Tacos De La Calle are pretty popular.” She turned to point to the menu, and Roman wasted no time setting his gaze on her ass that sat up nice and round in her jeans. “You can get steak, chicken, al pastor or carnitas topped with diced onions and cilantro. And, it’s served with rice or Elote Mexicano.”

Jimmy and Jey shared a knowing glance. “Shit, sure sounds good to me.”

She smiled, and Roman wasn’t sure he’d ever seen something so pleasing. “So you want to try it?”

“Hell yeah.”

Laughter. Laughter that had Roman pushing something down that was foreign, unfamiliar, but also…..light. 

She wrote down rapidly on her notepad, asking a few more questions of Jimmy and Jey before her attention shifted to Roman. “And you?”

Truth be told, Roman wasn’t focused on looking at the menu to figure out his order. He was too busy with the woman taking said orders. “Whatever they’re getting.”

She nodded with a small smile, writing something down before informing, “should be up in about twenty minutes.” Turning to leave, Jimmy beat Roman to the question on the tip of his tongue.

Well, one of them.

“Do we pay after or?”

She shook her head, eyes locked with Roman. “It’s on the house.”

Now

Roman was pressed for time by the time the order was ready that he didn’t have the chance to further talk with her, but he knew where she was, and that was all that mattered.

But, it didn’t. 

It didn’t because the next three times he found himself “craving” Mexican food, she was nowhere to be found. And because he’s him, stubborn and prideful, he refused to ask any of the workers about her working hours. 

On the fifth visit, he stopped trying. He had much more important things to do than to try to track down some random woman.

Even if random woman continued to cross his mind more than he would like to admit.

But, it was while sitting in the back of his SUV, looking out the window, trying to tune out the sound of the twins bickering, he saw her. 

She was walking down the sidewalk in front of strip malls, deep in laughter along with another woman. They were both wearing scrubs and holding cups of coffee while making their way past the stores. In the moment, Roman was tempted to order the driver to stop, to take advantage of this most unexpected opportunity. But, it was in being far past her that the thought left him.

Stupid, silly. 

What did it look like for him? The Tribal Chief, The Capo, The Head of the Table, to be chasing after a woman? 

He had to let that shit go.

And for all intents and purposes, he tried. He tried damn hard.

And, then he saw her again.

Then

Clubbing had never really been Roman’s thing. Maybe in his early twenties, to some extent, to score hookups. But, as a grown ass man in his mid thirties, he was over it. Which was why he was prepared to call it a night, informed his cousins that he was headed home when he saw it.

Saw her.

She was with the woman who’d whisked her away from him that night and the other whom he saw her walking with that day. 

The three of them were laughing and dancing, all beautiful, but there was something about her that drew him in, that had him unable to ignore this unexpected opportunity. 

An opportunity he found himself feeling fading away when the three of them moved from the dance floor to the bar. He watched how she said something to the other two women before squeezing her way through the bodies, headed somewhere else.

The same place Roman was headed. 

He waited to see she was moving toward the bathrooms before also heading in that same direction.

Did he feel like a fucking creep standing outside the women’s restroom, leaned up against the wall, waiting for someone he’d only seen a few times? Sure. Did it stop him from waiting for her?

Absolutely fucking not.

And he felt vindicated with his decision the moment she walked out. The way her eyes initially widened with surprise only to settle into something similar to joy.

Like, she was happy to see him.

As much was confirmed when the corner of her lips lifted into a small smile. “Hi.”

That voice.

Roman should not have been so satisfied to hear a single word leave someone’s mouth. But, he was. “Hey.”

He watched how she looked down, almost shyly before crossing her arms, acknowledging the nature of everything. “We keep running into each other.”

He nodded, agreeing. “We do.”

Her smile widened. “Solana.”

Roman’s eyes gleamed with all of the curiosity that’d consumed him since their meeting almost two months ago. “What?”

“You were going to ask my name that night,” she explained. “My name…..is Solana.”

Solana

Roman wasn’t sure he’d ever heard a prettier name. 

It fit her. 

“Roman,” he offered, noticing the way her smile deepened.

“I know who you are,” she shared, cheeks tinged pink. “Kinda hard not to.”

Fair. 

Still, it left him wondering something, something he hadn’t allowed himself to think too much about for the mere fact that it acknowledged the…..complications of the whole thing.

“You know who I am,” he stated. 

Not a question, but she answered like it was. “I do.”

Roman kicked his foot off the wall, taking a step toward her. He expected her to step back. She remained unmoved. “And you know what I do.”

Solana lifted her head, needing to do so because of their height difference.  The same answer. “I do.”

The curiosity was at an all time high. He had to ask. “And you’re not scared?”

Of him. Scared of him is what he really meant, but something in him wouldn’t allow him to ask it.

Most likely because he didn’t want to know said answer. 

Especially if it was anything other than no.

Solana smiled, voice just as soft. “I think if you planned to hurt me you would have done so by now.” Wise words, words that shocked him, even if he maintained a poker face. “So no…..I’m not scared.”

An unexpected answer, but one he was more than pleased to hear.

Maybe even relieved.

“Come with me.”

Roman was unsure what he planned to say to her, how he was going to respond to her confirming a lack of fear, but it certainly wasn’t that.

Something akin to indecision filled her face as she asserted, “I’m not going to have sex with you.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to.” An honest, rare thing. Roman couldn’t recall a time he’d invited a woman to his place for anything other than carnal reasons. 

“And what are you expecting?” The return of her smile was relieving to Roman as he found himself reaching to gently move the back of his hand over her cheek, unsurprised to find she felt as soft as she looked. 

His answer was sincere and truthful. “To talk.”

She agreed to leave with him, to go back to his place where they did, in fact, talk. They talked almost the whole night. Roman learning that the two women he’d seen her with were her cousins, one on her mom’s side, the other on her dad’s. Her best friends, was what she called them.

He also learned the reason he didn’t see her again at the restaurant was because she only worked there occasionally. It was owned by her grandma and where she worked all throughout high school and college, so her returns were solely when her grandma requested extra help.

And, that was one of those days.

She told him how her main job was at the local hospital where she worked as a pediatric nurse. There was no missing the way her face lit up as she discussed her love for her job, for her family, even her dog, Dulce.

And Roman soaked it all in. Took in every bit of it. Absorbed her light and radiance, such a contrast to his world. 

She was so different from his world. 

And, he found himself liking it. Liking her a lot. Liking the way they ended up on the sofa, her perched up against him, his finger trailing up and down her arm as they spoke, learned anything and everything about each other.

It was then he knew she was special. That this, whatever had already been building between them, was special.

And, that he didn’t want to lose it.

Lose her. 

It was why he found himself cutting right to the part he’d been dreading the moment he realized this was more than just random run-ins and that she was more than just a random woman.

“You know if we do this….” He’d started, waiting for her to look up at him. “It can’t be public.” Her confused expression forced him to elaborate. “You being with me automatically puts you in danger. I won’t have that, so if we do this, it has to be in secret. We can’t go out in public. I can’t have you seen with me, because it puts a target over your head, and I don’t want that.”

Just hours of actually being able to talk to Solana, to get to know her, had Roman already convinced he’d be fucking sick if something happened to her. And her being paraded around as someone close to him, let alone a romantic partner, would bring on exactly that.

So, it would have to be just as he described. All of their interactions with one another, dates even, would have to take place in private. They could never have a traditional relationship. 

Ever.

He studied her, assessed how she took in his explanation, as she was mulling it over in her head. Part of him was prepared for the most obvious response. That that wouldn't work for her, and he wouldn’t fault her. It wouldn’t work for most women.

But clearly, she wasn’t most women.

Smile small, voice lightly teasing, she replied after a good two minutes of silence. “It’s a good thing I like being low key then, huh?”

Now

Looking back, Roman is almost certain that was the same night he fell in love with her. He didn’t know it then, of course. Just knew he liked her, enjoyed her, enjoyed being around her even if the moments ended up being spaced out as time went on due to his schedule as well as hers. 

Regardless, in the times he couldn’t be with her physically, he made sure she always knew that she was always on his mind. He spoiled the hell out of her, surprising her almost daily with delivered flowers, chocolates, and any and all designer items he could think of. She wasn’t materialistic. Liked simple things like art, books, and music, but she also appreciated the things he did for her. He could always see the appreciation in her face whenever he could go visit her. 

She didn’t ask for it, didn’t expect it but was utterly thankful and grateful. Though what most pleased her was the time they could spend together, in person. He craved that too and took advantage of every opportunity that arose to do just that.

To see her.

To feel her soft body pressed against his. 

Even the nights where he stayed over at her place, stayed with her throughout the night. That was the other thing about it, that made it all so different.

Sex.

There was no sex in the relationship when it first started. Solana had confided in him that she was still a virgin and wasn’t prepared for that to change. Not for someone she’d just met.

Another way Roman knows he’s loved his girl from the moment he laid eyes on her, because no way in God’s green earth would he ever pursue a relationship with someone he couldn’t fuck.

All he did was fuck. Sex was just a thing for him, an enjoyable, pleasurable thing. But, what he easily found more enjoyable was her, just spending time with and being around her. 

It was almost as if that absent part of the relationship didn’t make a difference so long as he could just be around her. 

That was what he wanted from her. Just her time. That was it.

But, it didn’t take away from the way their relationship reached a completely different level, became something deeper, something stronger, something unbreakable almost when intimacy was added into the mix.

The night she allowed him to take her virginity, the first time “I love you” trickled out of both their mouths as she held onto him while he thrust into her, vowing his love and devotion for her, the same way she voiced the same for him. 

That was the night he knew. 

The night he realized he couldn’t live without her.

The night he realized he wouldn’t.

That next day, he started preparations on her ring. Custom. Of course. A month after that, said ring was done and ready. Roman can still recall the sound of her scream that awakened him from his sleep as she stared at him and then the stunning engagement ring he’d slipped on her finger while she slept atop him. 

Yes.

Her answer was yes. 

And a month later, after deep, honest discussions as to what they wanted their big day to look like, they tied the knot in front of only their closest family and friends. The few people who knew of their relationship. 

He didn’t care, because truth be told, Roman would have married her in a fucking gas station if that’s what it took to make her his. To give her his last name.

To make her his forever.

Roman moved her out of her condo and into a beautiful mansion about half an hour away from his penthouse. Not too close, but not too far. Not his preference considering she was now his wife but a necessity for her safety, because that was what mattered most. Keeping their relationship a secret from the public.

Keeping that target from appearing over her head.

Solana lifting her hand to his temple pulls Roman from traveling down memory lane. She frowns. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re not concussed.”

He’d be surprised, too. That fucker Rollins stomped the fuck out of his head. But, that’s not a priority right now.

“Sol….”

“I know,” she sighs, eyes dropping to the ground. “I know I shouldn’t have come, but like I said, I wanted to see you, Roman.” At that, he finally looks at her, opening his eyes and taking her in. “I’ve missed you….”

Three words that leave her mouth more than he’d like to admit.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he shares, quiet and true. Resolve crumbles as he brings his hand to the small of her back, pulling her to him. With an almost sense of hesitancy, he takes his other hand and moves it under her baggy hoodie. There’s an indescribable feeling that showers him the minute his palm rests against the smooth skin of her swollen belly. “How is she?”

Solana’s smile is bright as she moves her own hand over his. “Good.” Solana guides it around, clearly wanting him to feel the movement. “She’s definitely active….”

More or less the same thing Solana has shared with him via their phone calls, texts, and Facetime conversations. All normal symptoms for his six-month pregnant wife. Symptoms he’d give anything to be able to experience in real time with her.

Not being present for her during this exciting time in their lives has also had his stress levels on the higher end. Hence the shitshow that was tonight only exacerbated things. 

Roman darts his focus to her, asking with all seriousness. “And you?”

He sees it, the way she’s clearly downplaying her answer. Watering it down. “Always better when I get to see you.”

It’s not a direct answer, but it’s an answer, nonetheless. Roman will revisit the conversation later. Right now, he has other priorities he’s put off long enough.

Solana bringing one hand to the back of his head, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck is exactly the soothing gesture that he needs. He sighs, content and comforted. “You always make me feel better…..”

More than better.

Loved.

She makes him feel loved.

Solana’s eyes twinkle with something close to adoration. “Then my job is done.” She leans up on her toes to kiss his cheek. Stroking his beard, she asks, “let them tend to you….please?” A heavy sigh followed by a nod of agreement. Another kiss as she moves back to her feet, Roman’s hand never once leaving her belly that houses their firstborn. His little girl. “I—I’ll go back to the house.”

“No.” She frowns, prompting him to take his free hand not feeling her baby bump to her face, cupping her cheek. “Wait for me.” Her face lights up with some form of excitement. “I’ll stay the weekend with you.”

Roman sees it. Sees the relief and appreciation that fills her pretty, glowing face. “Really?”

He nods and leans forward, kissing her temple. “Give me an hour.”

Roman can’t recall the last time he spent more than a day and a night with her, always having to leave, never wanting to stay too long. To risk too many people inquiring and wondering where the Tribal Chief disappears off to.

His wife.

He disappears off to be with his wife and unborn child. 

The same as he’ll do this weekend. To get away from it all. To continue to cool down, to find sanctuary and solace in the one person who always provides him so. Unlike anyone else. 

Because no one else can. 

He’ll stay with her, continue to help her with the nursery that’s just about done, narrow down options for his little girl’s name, finish going over safety protocol for when she gives birth and just be with her. 

Because as hard as he tries, he can’t give her everything. 

But this, he can give her this.

[cherryxbooo]

omg i love your mason fic, the angst one. please write more angst i love your writings!!

Lost me forever

Summary: You thought you had finally found 'the one' and that you were the first choice all along, but that was until the truth finally came to light.

Note: Thank you so much lovely! As for the angst request, your wish is my command! I chose to write this for Mason since I found it fitting. Hope you enjoy it!

Reader x Mason Mount

Genre: Angst

Loving Mason Mount felt like the easiest thing in the world.

It was effortless, like breathing, like waking up to golden sunlight streaming through the curtains, warming my skin before his arms ever had the chance.

From the moment we found our way to each other, it felt like the universe had been waiting for it to happen.

Like everything before him had been grayscale, and he was the color I’d been missing.

He made life feel lighter, and softer. It wasn’t just the grand moments, it was the little things.

Like the way his fingers would find mine beneath restaurant tables, absently tracing patterns against my palm as he listened to me talk.

Or how he would pull me back into bed on Sunday mornings, refusing to let me go,

his voice thick with sleep as he mumbled, “Five more minutes, baby. Just five more.”

And we both knew it would never be just five.

It was the way he’d insist on carrying my books when he met me outside my lectures, even though I told him I could handle it.

“I know you can, but I like taking care of you,” he’d say, pressing a kiss to my temple before reaching for my bag anyway.

Late-night drives with the windows down, my feet propped up on the dashboard as he glanced over at me, grinning like I was his favorite sight in the world.

“You know I love you, right?” he'd say out of nowhere, his voice soft but certain.

And every time, my heart would stumble over itself as I whispered back,

“Yeah. I know. I love you too.”

The way he’d tuck me into his chest on the couch, his fingers running lazily through my hair as we half-watched a movie, more focused on each other than whatever was playing.

Or how he’d tease me when I got grumpy, pressing exaggerated kisses all over my face until I was laughing, pushing him away only for him to pull me right back.

He made me feel adored. Cherished.

Like I was his entire world.

And for a while, I truly believed he loved me just as much as I loved him.

But I didn’t realize that, all along, he was still orbiting around someone else.

The change was subtle at first. So subtle that I almost convinced myself it wasn’t happening.

At first, it was little things.

Mason would forget to text me back, not just for a few minutes, but for hours.

I’d send him something funny, something I knew would’ve made him laugh before, and the read receipt would linger, unanswered.

Maybe he’s busy. Maybe he’s just tired. I made excuses, brushing it off like it wasn’t the start of something unraveling.

Then he started canceling plans last minute.

"Sorry, something came up. Training ran late. I’m exhausted, let’s do tomorrow?"

Tomorrow would turn into the next day, then the next, until suddenly, I realized I was the only one trying to reschedule.

Our deep, intimate conversations, the ones where we’d stay up until three in the morning talking about everything and nothing, where he’d tell me about his childhood dreams, his fears, the things he never admitted to anyone else, turned into empty small talk.

"How was your day? Did you eat?"

His words felt distant, mechanical, like he was just going through the motions.

I tried to ignore the way his responses lacked warmth, the way he barely asked about me anymore.

And when we were together, it felt like he wasn’t really there.

He’d sit next to me on the couch, but his body was tense, like he was waiting for an excuse to leave.

He’d hold my hand, but it didn’t feel the same, his grip wasn’t as firm, as reassuring.

His kisses were quick, and absentminded, like they were more of a habit than something he wanted to do.

The worst part? He stopped looking at me like he used to.

The light in his eyes, the way they used to soften when they met mine, it was gone.

Now, when I caught him staring, it felt like he was searching for something that wasn’t there anymore.

I tried not to let it bother me. I told myself it was stress, that he was overwhelmed with training, with matches, with the constant pressure to perform.

It has nothing to do with me. I repeated it like a mantra, like if I said it enough, I’d believe it.

But deep down, I felt it.

The distance. The absence of his warmth.

The quiet way he was slipping away from me, little by little, day by day.

Then came the late nights.

I’d wake up to an empty bed, the sheets cold where he should’ve been.

At first, I thought maybe he couldn’t sleep, maybe he was just restless.

But then I heard it. The hushed whispers from the other room, the way his voice softened in a way it never did with me anymore.

The first time, I told myself I was imagining things.

The second time, I told myself it was probably a teammate.

The third time, I stopped lying to myself.

Because when I walked in too quickly, when I caught him sitting on the edge of the couch, phone pressed to his ear, he snapped his head up so fast it was like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

His expression shifted, just for a second, before he forced a smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he murmured, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“Didn’t wanna wake you.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust him like I always had.

But my heart was screaming at me. Telling me something was wrong.

I just didn’t want to ask.

Because I already knew I wouldn’t like the answer.

The night everything fell apart,

I was at Mason’s place, curled up on his couch, wrapped in the blanket he always draped over my shoulders whenever I got cold.

It smelled like him, like the faint traces of his cologne mixed with something unmistakably him, something that once made me feel safe.

I had been waiting for him to get back from training, my phone resting loosely in my hand as I scrolled absentmindedly, not really paying attention to anything on the screen.

The TV hummed softly in the background, playing an episode of a show we had started together but never finished.

He used to insist on waiting for me before watching the next one. Lately, he didn’t wait anymore.

I tried not to think about it too much.

I tried not to think about any of it too much.

The unanswered texts. The canceled plans.

The way his kisses felt like muscle memory instead of something he wanted.

I had spent weeks, months, convincing myself that this was just a rough patch.

That things would go back to normal once the season settled, once the stress faded, once he had time to breathe.

That we would go back to normal.

I wasn’t looking for answers that night.

I wasn’t searching for proof that something was wrong.

But sometimes, the truth doesn’t wait for you to be ready.

Sometimes, it finds you when you least expect it.

And that night, it found me in the form of an unexpected message on Mason’s laptop.

The screen lit up suddenly, casting a soft glow over the coffee table. At first, I barely noticed.

I was too lost in my own head, too focused on distracting myself from the gnawing ache in my chest.

I wasn’t the kind of person to snoop. I had never needed to be.

I trusted Mason.

Or at least, I thought I did.

But then, my eyes flickered to the name at the top of the message.

And my heart stopped.

Her name.

His ex Charlotte.

I stared at it, my breath catching in my throat.

It was just a name. Just a simple notification.

And yet, it felt like the ground beneath me had shifted.

There was no reason for them to be talking. No good reason, at least.

Mason never spoke about her. He had told me, once, that their story was over.

That I was the only one he saw a future with. That she was a part of his past, and that’s where she would stay.

I wanted to believe him. I had believed him.

So then why was she here, on his screen, reaching out like she had never really left?

For a moment, I hesitated.

I wanted to look away, to pretend I hadn’t seen it, to act like it was just some meaningless message.

That would be easier, wouldn’t it? I could go back to the way things were, smiling through the doubt, pushing aside the way he had been slipping away from me piece by piece.

But then I saw the preview of the message.

Just a few words.

But they were enough to send ice through my veins.

I miss you.

My hands shook as I reached for the laptop.

My heart pounded against my ribs, screaming at me, begging me to stop.

But I couldn’t.

I clicked on the message.

Then another. And another.

And with every message I read, my world crumbled around me.

It wasn’t just casual conversation.

It wasn’t Hey, how have you been? or Hope you're doing well.

It was confessions whispered in the dead of night.

It was I think about you all the time.

It was I miss everything about you.

It was Being with her doesn’t feel the same.

It was I still love you.

The air rushed from my lungs.

I blinked. Once. Twice.

Waiting, praying, for the words to change.

For my eyes to be playing tricks on me.

But they didn’t change.

They sat there, staring back at me like undeniable proof that I had been living in a lie.

Every moment Mason and I had shared, every soft I love you, every late-night conversation, every time he had pulled me close and promised me forever, it had all been meaningless.

I had just been something to fill the space she left behind.

A placeholder.

A distraction.

A way for him to forget the girl he really wanted.

And the worst part?

I never even saw it coming.

I had been so sure of him. So sure of us.

I had loved him with everything I had, blind to the fact that his heart had never really been mine to begin with.

Tears blurred my vision, but I couldn’t cry. Not yet.

Not until I heard the sound of keys jingling at the door.

Mason was home.

And I had a choice to make.

Pretend I hadn’t seen anything, pretend I hadn’t fallen apart while reading his betrayal in black and white.

Or look him in the eye and ask the question I already knew the answer to.

When Mason walked through the door, tired and unsuspecting, his duffel bag slung lazily over his shoulder, I felt my entire body lock up.

He ran a hand through his damp hair, his shirt sticking slightly to his skin from the shower he took after training, and for a fleeting second,

I saw the version of him I used to love, the boy who used to make me feel like the center of his world.

But that version of Mason didn’t exist anymore.

He didn’t know it yet, but I had seen everything.

His lips parted slightly when his eyes landed on me, confusion flickering across his face as he took in my stiff posture, the way my arms were crossed tightly over my chest like they were the only thing keeping me together.

His gaze shifted to the coffee table, to where his laptop sat open, the screen still glowing.

He didn’t know yet, but he would.

The air in the room shifted.

"Hey, love." His voice was soft, familiar, too familiar.

Like he hadn’t just shattered me beyond repair.

I didn’t respond.

I reached for the laptop, my movements slow, deliberate, my fingers curling around the edges before I threw it onto the table between us.

The loud smack echoed in the silent apartment.

Mason flinched slightly, his brows knitting together. “What the hell—”

"Tell me the truth." My voice trembled, but there was an edge to it, sharp enough to cut.

His eyes darted between mine, searching, confused. “Y/n, what—”

I lifted a hand and pointed at the screen, my entire body trembling with the weight of what I had just discovered.

"Don’t. Just tell me the truth."

His eyes flickered down.

And in that moment, I saw everything.

The way his entire body tensed.

The way his face lost its color, his jaw tightening as his throat bobbed.

The way his fingers twitched at his sides, his breathing suddenly uneven.

He didn’t have to say anything.

I already knew.

But I wanted him to say it.

I wanted him to look me in the eye and own what he had done.

He let out a slow, shaky breath, his lips pressing together as if he was trying to find the right words.

"It’s not what you think—"

A bitter laugh burst from my lips before I could stop it.

I felt something inside me snap.

"Not what I think?" I repeated, my voice rising, the disbelief dripping from every syllable.

I jabbed a finger toward the screen, toward her name, toward the messages that had destroyed me.

“So you didn’t tell her you missed her? You didn’t tell her being with me wasn’t the same? You didn’t tell her you still love her?”

Mason inhaled sharply, his lips parting like he wanted to deny it,

God, I wanted him to deny it, but no words came.

His silence was louder than any excuse he could’ve made.

My throat tightened, the lump there threatening to choke me, but I refused to let him see me break.

I had already given him too much of me. I wouldn’t give him this too.

"Was I ever anything more than a rebound to you?" I whispered.

His face crumbled.

"Y/n—"

"Answer me!" I snapped, my voice cracking.

His lips pressed into a thin line. His hands curled into fists at his sides.

And then, hesitation.

Just a second. Just the briefest pause.

But that was all I needed.

I let out a sharp breath, my hands trembling as I wiped at my eyes, willing the tears away.

"I hope she was worth it, Mason." The words felt like acid on my tongue.

I turned away, grabbing my bag from the couch with numb fingers, my entire body screaming at me to run, run, run.

"Y/n, wait—" His voice cracked.

I felt his hand wrap around my wrist, not rough, not forceful, just desperate.

For the first time, I looked at him, really looked at him.

His face was drawn, his eyes wide, pleading.

His grip on my wrist tightened slightly, like he was afraid that if he let go, I’d disappear.

"Please." His voice was barely above a whisper.

I swallowed hard, my chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

"You don’t get to do that," I said, my voice barely steady.

I yanked my wrist free, stepping back.

"You don’t get to break me and then ask me to stay."

Mason exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face, through his hair, looking more panicked now.

“I never meant—” He cut himself off like the words physically hurt to say.

I shook my head. “You never meant for me to find out.”

Silence.

He didn’t argue.

He didn’t fight for me.

Because he knew.

He knew there was nothing left to fight for.

I felt a sob clawing at my throat, but I swallowed it down.

I refused to break in front of him.

I took a shaky step back. Then another.

"Goodbye, Mason."

And then I turned.

I walked to the door, my steps unsteady, my hands trembling as I reached for the handle.

"Y/n." My name was a whisper, a plea.

I didn’t stop.

I didn’t look back.

And Mason didn’t stop me.

Because he knew, he had already lost me. Lost me forever.

Mason stood there,

This is what he wanted right?

Now he could go back to Charlotte without having to hide it.

But if this was what he wanted, why did he feel so guilty? Why does it feel like he has lost something big? Why was he feeling... regret?

Mason shrugged off those feelings before muttering "She was just a rebound, this is what I wanted right?"

And that was all it took for him to move on.

Well at least for now.

Mason got back together with his ex two weeks later.

At first, it felt right.

She was familiar. She was comfortable. She was the girl he had spent so long missing, the one who had haunted his thoughts even when he was with Y/n.

For a brief moment, he convinced himself he had made the right choice.

But then, the cracks started to show.

The first time he noticed it was during dinner.

They sat across from each other at a high-end restaurant she had insisted on, a place where the food was overpriced and the lighting dim enough to make everything look perfect for Instagram.

Mason had been talking about his match earlier that day, how exhausted he was, how he’d nearly scored but missed by inches.

She didn’t even look up from her phone.

"That’s nice, babe," she murmured, her perfectly manicured fingers typing away.

He stared at her, waiting, expecting her to say more.

She didn’t.

Instead, she snapped a photo of their untouched plates, adjusted the lighting, and posted it with a caption that had nothing to do with him.

That was just the beginning.

The thoughtful gestures, the ones Y/n had done so naturally, were gone.

There were no lazy Sunday mornings where she curled into his chest, tracing mindless patterns on his skin.

No soft kisses just because.

No remembering how he liked his tea or sneaking his favorite snacks into the fridge after a long day.

Charlotte wasn’t cruel. She wasn’t awful. She was just… absent.

It was clear she loved the idea of him, the status, the lifestyle, the way people looked at them when they walked into a room together.

But him? The man behind the footballer, the one with worries and insecurities, the one who needed comfort just as much as anyone else?

She didn’t see him.

And suddenly, Mason realized, he had been chasing a ghost.

The woman he had truly loved, the one who had memorized every detail about him, who had supported him through every loss, who had loved him for the man and not the player, was gone.

Y/n had been that woman.

His Y/n.

And he had thrown her away like she was nothing.

One night, after another meaningless fight, this time over why he wasn’t posting her on social media enough, he sat alone in his apartment, scrolling through his camera roll.

The pictures of Y/n were still there.

Her smile, so genuine.

The way she looked at him like he was her entire world.

The little videos she had taken when he wasn’t paying attention, him cooking, him laughing at something dumb, him asleep with his arm wrapped around her waist like he never wanted to let go.

He had been so loved.

And he had destroyed it.

By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late.

Y/n had vanished from his life.

Blocked his number. Deleted their pictures. Disappeared without a trace.

At first, he thought maybe she just needed time.

That eventually, she’d cool down, pick up one of his calls, and answer one of his texts.

She never did.

He tried her best friend.

"She doesn’t want anything to do with you."

He tried her family.

"Mason, you hurt her. Let her go."

Her colleagues, her neighbors, nobody would tell him where she was.

And then, one day, when he came to her house once again he heard one of her neighbors call out for him.

"You should stop trying son. Didn't you hear? She left the country."

His stomach dropped.

"What?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, she moved. Took some big job offer or something. Left everything behind."

Mason’s heart pounded in his chest.

She had left.

His Y/n had left.

Started fresh. Moved somewhere new. Somewhere he could never reach her.

And for the first time in his life, Mason Mount, who had always been able to fix his mistakes, to win people back with a smile or an apology, knew he had lost her forever.

And this time, there was no getting her back.

That night, I made my decision.

I sat in my apartment, staring at the email that had been sitting in my inbox for days.

A job offer.

My dream job. The one I had turned down for him.

For so long, I had let my love for Mason dictate my every move.

I had stayed when I should have gone, let him convince me that we were enough, that we could make a future together.

I had put his dreams, his career, his needs first, and let mine slip into the background.

But that future didn’t exist anymore.

And now? I had nothing left to lose.

So, I took a deep breath, wiped away the last of my tears, tears that had been falling for weeks now, and clicked accept.

The next few weeks passed in a blur of packing, selling off things I didn’t need, and coming to terms with the fact that I was leaving the place that had once felt like home.

It wasn’t easy, but it was necessary.

"Are you sure about this?" my best friend asked, standing in the middle of my now half-empty apartment.

I exhaled slowly, trying to hold it together.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

And I meant it.

The morning of my flight, I did one last thing before leaving.

I blocked Mason. Everywhere.

His number. His Instagram. His Twitter. His email.

I erased him the way he had erased me.

And then I left.

As the plane took off and the city shrank beneath me, I finally felt it. The weight lifting from my chest.

The space inside me that had been filled with doubt, uncertainty, and longing, is now empty but... free.

A new country. A new life. A fresh start.

No more waiting for someone to choose me.

This time, I was choosing myself.

And Mason?

He was just a chapter in a book I had already finished reading.

Mason thought he had made the right choice.

He thought that getting back with his ex would fill the emptiness he felt after losing Y/n, but all it did was magnify the hollowness in his chest.

It was then, in the quiet moments of the night when he lay awake in his bed, that it hit him.

Y/n had been the one.

She had been the one who truly understood him.

The one who saw the person behind the jersey, behind the fame, behind the image.

She was the one who had loved him for him, not for the trophies or the spotlight.

And he had thrown it all away.

He had thrown her away.

But now, it was too late.

The more he tried to convince himself that things were fine, the more he realized that nothing felt right.

His ex wasn’t the person he needed.

And he was so damn lonely.

Training started slipping. He missed passes, lost focus, and the frustration was unbearable.

His coach started noticing, and his teammates were starting to get concerned.

He couldn’t even summon the motivation to push himself. Every match felt pointless, every goal out of reach.

He couldn’t concentrate. His heart wasn’t in it anymore.

His head wasn’t in it. His life wasn’t in it.

And the worst part?

He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Y/n.

The way she would smile at him after a tough day, the way her laugh would fill the room like music.

The way she would hold him close when he was stressed or frustrated, as if just being near her was enough to make everything better.

The way she’d remember the smallest details about him, how she would surprise him with his favorite snacks or take care of him when he was sick.

He had taken it all for granted.

And now, he would never have it again.

One night, after yet another argument with his ex, something about him not being “present enough”

Mason sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone.

He had tried calling Y/n again. She didn’t answer.

Of course, she wasn't going to answer.

She had blocked him everywhere, but every day he hoped that for some magical reason, she would've unblocked him everywhere.

He checked his messages, hoping, praying, that maybe, just maybe, she would reach out. But nothing.

It was as if she had vanished from his life completely.

And that’s when the weight of it all crashed down.

He realized that he had let her slip through his fingers, and now, she was gone.

For good.

Days blurred together as Mason sank deeper into his depression. His training was a mess.

His performance on the field was getting worse by the day.

His teammates were starting to notice his lack of focus and his erratic behavior. He didn’t care. He couldn’t care.

And then, it hit him like a slap in the face.

It was Y/n all along, not Charlotte. Y/n was his girl and not that fame-sucking ex of his.

Mason had spent so long taking her love for granted, thinking it would always be there, thinking he could come back when it suited him.

But now? Now he realized the truth: She had been the love of his life.

And he had lost her.

Forever.

He spent days in his apartment, alone with his thoughts, battling the crushing weight of regret.

He would never see her smile again, never hear her voice telling him that everything would be okay.

He had let the one person who truly loved him slip away because he couldn’t appreciate her until it was too late.

And in the silence of his empty apartment, with nothing but his thoughts and his guilt to keep him company,

Mason finally understood what he had lost.

Y/n.

The girl he had taken for granted. The one who had loved him without hesitation.

The one he would never get back.

The end

[hanniebaeee]

Without you

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: lots of tears

Genre: established relationship, angst, fluff

Summary: When Hyunjin comes home after a week away for work, he finds you gone. And he's furious because you didn't say a word, just packed and left. And he knows it has everything to do with the dinner you had with his parents just before he left.

a/n: writing my pain away. I'm sorry if this is too angsty.

Hyunjin’s knuckles rapped against Jisoo’s front door with such force you feared that it might come off its hinges. You glanced at Jisoo, your face streaked with tears, your heart racing.

“Y/N!” His voice came through the door, sending a jolt of panic through your chest. “Open the damn door, or so help me, I’ll kick it down.”

Jisoo shot you a glance, silently asking if you wanted her to handle it. You just shook your head. You had to face him at some point. 

“You sure?” Jisoo asked, her protective instincts flaring.

You nodded, and she sighed before walking towards the door.

Memories of that night flashed through your mind painfully. Dinner at his parents’ place. Everything was going fine until his mum cornered you in the kitchen as you helped her put things away. She was so polite as she suggested that her son was very impulsive, and rarely thought things through.

You heart nearly stopped as she said that, because you had a feeling where this conversation was headed. And then she told you with a smile that if you really loved him, you'd stop holding him back, and let him have the life he truly deserved - a life with a Korean girl who'd fit better with his family. With him. 

And she had proceeded to pretend like everything was ok the rest of the night, while you had to do everything in your power to not break down. He was their only son. You didn't want to ruin his relationship with them, considering how wildly protective he was of you. 

The man loved you with everything in him. And Hyunjin literally wore his heart on his sleeves, and you would never knowingly do anything to agitate him. And so you'd gone home silently that night, spent a long time silently sobbing in the bathroom as he packed for a one week trip. He had multiple shows scheduled for the week, all outside Korea. 

Obviously he knew the minute you emerged from the bathroom with a smile. He had stared into your eyes, his mouth opening and closing like he desperately wanted to talk. But he had to leave in another hour, and he didn't want to start a conversation that he knew he couldn't finish before he left. So he engulfed you in a hug, kissed you deeply and told you that he loved you. And that you're his entire world. 

But sadly, that didn't make your aching insecurities vanish. Because after he left, you'd packed your own bags and called Jisoo, panicking.

He called out again, this time a little softer, but his tone was dripping with frustration.

“Jisoo, I know you’re in there. And I know she’s with you. Let me in.” he said. “Please.”

“Fine! But if you make her cry again, I'll make you suffer.” Jisoo opened the door, shooting him a glare as she moved aside. “She's in the guest room.”

Hyunjin stormed in, wearing his travel-worn hoodie and sweatpants, looking so tired, but furious at the same time. 

His sharp eyes locked onto you immediately as he stepped into the guest bedroom. Hyunjin stood there for a moment, staring at you. Your face was nearly unrecognizable - eyes swollen, skin blotchy from crying for days. You could barely keep your eyes open. 

Hyunjin’s chest rose and fell with deep breaths, and you could see the tension radiating off him. 

“You wanna explain to me what the hell is going on?” he asked finally, his voice tight with barely suppressed anger.

You tried to hold his gaze, but the intensity in his eyes was unbearable.

“Hyunjin, please don’t do this right now,” you muttered, wiping your face with the sleeve of your oversized sweater.

“Oh, we’re doing this,” he said, stalking toward you like a predator who’d just spotted its prey. He crossed his arms, towering over you. “Start talking. Now.”

You folded your arms, a weak attempt to put up a barrier. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Nothing to talk about?” He scoffed, letting out a humorless laugh. “That’s rich, considering I came home to our apartment looking like a ghost town. All your stuff gone. My gifts left behind like they were trash. And you dodging my calls?”

His voice was rising, and it was clear that more than anger, he was hurt.

“I didn’t dodge your calls,” you countered weakly, your voice breaking.

“You didn’t answer them. Or my texts,” he fired back. “What the hell, Y/N? I want you to tell me why you thought it was okay to pack your things and leave without a word."

You tried to muster the courage to stay firm, to push him away like his mother had suggested.

“I… I think we’re too different, Hyunjin.” The words tasted bitter on your tongue. “It's for the best…”

His jaw clenched, his angelic features hardening. “Bullshit.”

Your eyes widened at his bluntness, and how he took another step forward. 

“You don’t get to pull this ‘too different’ crap on me now,” he snapped. “If you don’t want to be with me anymore, fine, say that. But don’t lie to me. Is that it? You don't love me?”

“No, no,” you insisted, though your voice was shaky. “Hyunjin, please-”

“Then tell me why you cried your eyes out after that dinner,” he challenged. “Tell me why my mom’s been calling me nonstop asking if you’re okay.”

Your heart sank. Of course, he’d piece it together. He wasn’t stupid.

Hyunjin exhaled, running a hand through his short hair, his frustration giving way to something softer. “Baby, what did she say to you?”

You bit your lip, shaking your head. “Hyunjin, it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me,” he said, his voice cracking. “It matters if it’s enough to make you leave me.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, and your eyes burned as you blinked them back.

“She loves you, Jinnie…whatever she wants for you, it's for the best…you do deserve better,” you admitted quietly. “Someone who fits into your world better than I do.”

Hyunjin let out a low curse, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He turned away for a moment, running both hands through his hair as he paced the room, trying to calm the storm brewing inside him.

“You deserve someone who won’t hold you back.”

He froze, his gaze darkening as he asked, “You think you hold me back?”

“Hyunjin -”

“I don’t care what she said,” he snapped, cutting you off. “I’m asking you. Do you think that?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

“Y/N,” he whispered, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you. “You’re my world. No one else fits better into it than you. My mom doesn’t get to decide who’s good enough for me, baby. I do. And guess what? You’re it. You’ve always been it. Don’t you see that?”

“I just…” You shook your head, your voice trembling. “I don’t want to cause problems for you. I love you too much to -”

“To what?” he interrupted, stepping closer again. His hands found your face, his touch firm but gentle as he tilted your chin up to make you look at him. “To stay? To fight for us?”

You swallowed hard, your heart aching at the sincerity in his voice.

“And if my mom can’t see what we have, that’s her problem,” he continued, his tone fierce. “But you don’t get to decide for me. You don’t get to run away without even talking to me.”

You felt your resolve crumbling, your walls breaking down under the weight of his words.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you muttered, trying to push him away.

“Like what?” He smirked, his confidence creeping back. “Like I’m madly in love with you?”

“Hyunjin…” Your voice was barely audible as you mumbled, “I don't want you to regret this. Ever.”

“Don’t you dare,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Don’t you dare say that. Because it's bullshit. You’re everything to me.”

The tears flowed freely now, and you couldn’t stop them even if you tried. “But your mom -”

“I’ll handle my mom,” he growled, cutting you off again. “You’re my choice, Y/N. My family. My life.”

His words shattered the last of your resolve, and before you knew it, you were sobbing into his chest, clutching at his hoodie. He held you close, his arms wrapped around you so tight. 

“You’re mine,” he murmured against your hair, his voice trembling. “And I’m yours. Don’t ever forget that.”

You nodded against him, too overwhelmed to speak. A small tearful laugh escaped you, despite the tears still streaming down your face.

“There’s my girl,” he teased, brushing a thumb over your cheek to wipe your tears away. “Now, grab your things. Let’s go home.”

You hesitated, still unsure if you could ever face his mother again.

“Don’t worry about her,” he added, as if reading your mind. “I’ll handle it. This is not your battle, okay?”

And just like that, the weight on your chest began to lift. In that moment, nothing else mattered. It was just you and Hyunjin - two souls refusing to let go of each other.

And you knew, deep down, that you never would.

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world

[sai-int]

what do you think 141 men's sun signs would be? (phillip graves and keegan included, if you headcanon them as well)

what do you think?

okay, i don't know HOW you knew i'm an astrology nerd, but i am. i won't go too in depth about their entire charts, but i can definitely figure out some sun signs based on who they are on a surface level!!

⸝⸝ john

a bonafide taurus, through and through (twinsies!!!). dependable, grounded, and a natural leader. he’s EXTREMELY protective over his men, stubborn to a fault, and always (tries to) keep a level head. he enjoys life’s finer things (like a good cigar and whiskey), but he’s also pragmatic and values stability. definitely the type to be patient, but once he’s pushed too far? unmovable.

⸝⸝ simon

a scorpio. intense, mysterious, and deeply private, embodies everything about this water sign. he keeps his emotions locked away, but when he loves, he does it with his whole soul (johnny). he’s the type to hold a grudge for life and operates in extremes, either you have his loyalty, or you don’t. his sense of humor is dark and dry, plus he thrives in the shadows.

⸝⸝ johnny

he's a tough one to call!! but i've settled on saggitarius. he's all firecracker energy, optimistic, adventurous, and constantly trying to beat someone up, shoot someone, or blow something up. he's a fucking dems expert. sagittarius fits him like a glove. PLUS, he’s got that infectious, chaotic charm and can talk his way out of (or into) anything. he doesn’t like being tied down, but when he’s dedicated to something, he gives it his all. the kind of guy who jokes to lighten the mood even in the worst situations, i mean come on. did you see him in las almas?

⸝⸝ kyle

LIBRA LIBRA LIBRA LIBRA. i have a libra rising so i feel so in touch with his sense of justice. for me personally, nothing enrages me more than seeing something just blatantly wrong. i mean think about the first modern warfare. man wanted to get his hands DIRTY for the greater good, or whatever. he felt it necessary in order to balance the scales, and libra's allllll about scales. he's also the mediator of the group, quick-witted, and socially adaptable. he knows how to navigate tense situations and keeps a cool head. libras are also deeply loyal to their people, and gaz would go to hell and back for his team. also he's fucking HOT, libra's ruled by venus.

⸝⸝ graves

a textbook leo and i'm not hearing anything else. charismatic, confident, and so good at making people believe in him. he carries himself like he’s the main character and knows how to command attention. but there’s that classic leo downside too, pride. his downfall is his ego, his need to be in control. he thrives in leadership positions and loves to be admired, but when his authority is challenged? that’s when the claws come out (e. g. "you've got about five seconds before i show you the difference between military, and me.")

⸝⸝ keegan

SUCH a capricorn and you cannot tell me otherwise. hes that no-nonsense, disciplined, get-shit-done type, which screams capricorn. he’s serious, hardworking, and has that quiet intensity that makes people take him seriously. capricorns are known for their sarcasm and dry humor, and keegan definitely embodies that. he’s also fiercely loyal. once you earn his trust, he’ll go to war for you.

⸝⸝ könig

a fun one to pin down. i’m torn between virgo and cancer, but i’m leaning more toward virgo.

he’s meticulous, observant, and highly analytical, classic virgo traits. virgos are often perfectionists, which fits with könig’s overthinking and anxiety. he strategizes everything, calculates risks, and probably notices details no one else does. he’s reserved but has a deeply anxious side, especially in social situations, which aligns with the more introverted nature of virgos. my sister's a virgo and has some ocd problems, but by god, there's a method to her madness and when she gets shit done, it's done well. virgos are also dangerous when they’ve had enough. they hold in a lot, but when they snap? it’s brutal.

[yeonmuse]

EN-Drama Heeseung’s sequel please (it’d be great to have smut and angst, HE or BE anything is good 😊)

- I love you

ᥫ᭡ f!reader x Lee Heeseung ── 𝒢enre. Smut. fluff, Angst non idol enha. not proofread. Wc 4.2k feats. ot7 [reqs are open] ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓁ibrary

authors notes. I hope this is to your liking, I’ve been lacking the motivation to write lately so everything I have written as of late I’ve felt love it’s been lackluster. I’ve started and deleted this at least 4 times so I’m hoping this final draft will be worth the read.

IN WHICH an old crush makes their way back into Heeseungs life and old feelings start to spark

🔖 @jwonistic @bubblytaetae @pkjay @planetmarlowe @dreeki @butterflywonz @lillotus17 @squiishymeow @river-demon-slayer @sol3chu @right-person-wrong-time @riribelle

“I dont wanna be in love with another even in another life”

Heeseung had been the quiet type, he’d found delight in sitting alone or spending his time in the serenity of his own peace. Though many found him boring due to his silence and nonchalant attitude he had fit in quite perfectly with his friends. Six guys that he had known so long it felt as if he’d known them his entire life, it had been hard to picture times when they hadn’t been there. As much as Heeseung had loved being alone, they made his life all the more enjoyable.

Heeseung was quite the simple guy, so while many of the girls in school had found him attractive they’d also found him extremely boring. Soon enough rumors had gone around the entire school that not only was he boring in a general sense, but that he’d also been completely vanilla when it came to sleeping with him. Though Heeseung was unsure how the rumors had ever started, considering he’d never even been with any of the girls at school, or any girl for that matter. He shrugged it off as he would everything else, people were going to talk, people were going to assume things about him regardless of whether or not it was confirmed or denied by him.

That exact same aura seemed to trail Heeseung from his high school days, to university and onto his fully adult life. He often found himself thinking back to the days when things were far more simple, When he and the others had no worries and no responsibility.

Heeseung was quickly snapped out of his thoughts as he heard someone tapping at the glass of the studio. Though it may not have been where Heeseung had exactly seen himself after high school, his new job had been a start. He’d luckily scored a job at a radio station in the city and had been working it for nearly a year.

“You’ve got a call in the main office, seemed urgent?”

“Who was it?”

“Don’t know they just said that they were looking for you and seemed like it was something important. I'll take over until you’re back.” Heeseungs brows crease together as Sohee pats at his back, sending him off to answer the phone. It wasn’t like his friends to call when they knew he was at work. Though when Heeseung had answered the phone he was surprised to hear, not the voice of his friends, but an old acquaintance he and the others hadn’t heard from since the day they’d left to go overseas.

That was exactly why Heeseung found himself sitting at a big round table waiting for the others to arrive, the last time all of them had gathered together being valentine's day of last year, but since then they’d all kept in touch but had been tackling their own endeavors.

Heeseung hadn’t exactly been sure what to feel about seeing one person in particular after so long. The girl he’d found himself falling for long ago, the first girl that had captured his heart, but she had also been the one that got away.

She had come to him at a time it seemed that no one bothered to understand him. There had even been times where he felt even those closest to him wouldn’t understand the works of his mind like he’d wanted. Though she was the one that stayed, the one that listened to him even when he had nothing to say, she’d waited. One of the first in his life that weren’t his friends to actually stay and try and get closer, not because of his looks but because she was interested to know the world of his mind.

Though back then when he had finally thought he’d been getting closer to her, everything had seemed to fall apart, others had grown feelings for her and complications had arisen that had made him give up on pursuing her. Looking back on it though he found it quite ridiculous that the seven of them had gotten themself into such a mess but sometimes it made him laugh.

He had now seemed to be the odd man out other than Jay and Jungwon who chose to focus on their careers rather than relationships. Leaving only him who hadn’t eventually known where he wanted to go with his love life, he never approached anyone and his calm and aloof demeanor made others too anxious to approach him themselves.

Soon enough the others had joined him, all of them catching up with one another and reminiscing on old memories with one another. Remembering the times they’d all shared with one another before they’d gone their separate ways. The conversation had been full of laughs and smiles, though the atmosphere slightly shifted the moment she’d walked in.

“Eunjin”

The moment she’d entered the building it was like some form of magnetic attraction, his eyes had found her in an instant. Taking in how much she had changed in the five years that none of them had seen her, he thought he’d gotten over it but the moment his eyes had set on her he felt his heart beat again for the first time.

It was like in the movies when time would stop and cherry blossoms would come raining down on the protagonists. She was always beautiful, though the amount of growth and maturity level she’d possessed now was inevitably visible. The only thing that he could say hadn’t changed about her was her height, he was sure if he’d stood from his seat he’d still tower over her just as he had all that time ago.

Upon hearing her name spill from his lips the others turned until their eyes found her sauntering over to their table. The reason for them all having gathered there in the first place.

“It’s been a while.” There it was that sweet voice that had once been like music to his ears, it had all the memories and emotions he once felt for her flooding back in.

The night carried on smoothly, it was as if the group had missed no time with one another, each of them reliving moments in their life and the others listening and reminiscing as if they themselves had been with one another through every step. Heeseung found himself a little far too immersed whenever she’d speak. He’d wanted to know everything, everything she’d come to like, hate or be interested in within the last five years. He found that that spark she had once lit within him long ago was returning upon having her say there before him.

Eventually the gathering had slowly come to a halt as everyone had either gone home, or had other inquiries that kept them from staying longer, which meant that left Heeseung and Eunjin alone. Since the restaurant had neared closing time the two had decided to continue their conversation on a stroll through the city.

“You look good seung.” The first words to leave her mouth upon the two of them being left alone. His heart had been thumping so hard in his chest he’d sworn hee could hear it beating in his ears.

“Still as pretty as ever, haven't grown much.” He teases, earning a laugh from her that made his heart shake in his chest.

“It really is nice to see you again, all of you. I found all of the notes you’d all left for me and the old candy wrappers from all of those chocolates you’d brought to class to share.” She laughs, brushing her hair behind her ear as she pulls out an old folded piece of paper. Heeseung couldn’t deny that he recognized it, after all he’d written it himself.

“Ah right, the letters. Guess we all embarrassed ourselves at that time?” He chuckles, forcing honestly to hold back a wince at the absolute cringe worthy memory.

“I thought it was sweet, though it was a little overwhelming. I just thought I’d ever expected all seven of you to confess to one another. It did make things a little confusing.”

“I guess we just all thought we were doing the right thing, not being selfish.”

“If you all had known my feelings would that have changed anything?”

“What do you..mean?”

“If you all had known how I’d felt about each of you then would it have made a difference? Would you have confessed then?” As she stops and turns to look at him, her eyes scanning him curiously, he himself didn’t know what to say, it prompted him to take a moment and think.

“I can’t speak for others, but if I’d known your feelings…if you’d liked anyone else then things would have remained the same. Though if the feelings you had were for me then..I’d have not given up as easily as I had.”

“What about now?” Heeseung had completely frozen in place, her words having caused his body to completely shut down right where he stood.

“What if I told you now how I felt then?” Her eyes seemed to scan him for any sort of signs that she should speak no further, but he remained locked in place.

“If I had told you I liked you then would things have been different now? If I'd told you the moment we ran into one another outside of the nurses office then where would we be now?”

Heeseungs thoughts had been circling his brain like the sun and moon orbiting earth. Hearing something from her he’d thought he’d gotten past years ago. Though now hearing those words spilled from her lips it was as if he’d been reliving the emotions he once felt all over again.

“So you’re saying..”

“That i’d have chosen you Heeseung, if things had been different and only you had confessed..I’d have accepted your confession.”

“What about the others?”

“We were friends, just like I’d told you all last time we spoke. I’d never want to compromise the friendship each of you had with one another or myself. After each of you had given a letter I thought it was best I rejected all of you.”

“So all this time it was me?” She nods in response, leaving Heeseung somewhat dumbfounded by the revelation. Of course it was something he had pictured countless times but he’d never seen it actually happening.

Closing the space between the two of them she steps closer to him, her boba eyes staring straight into him.

“Though it’s 5 years late, is it too late to say that I like you Lee Heeseung? That you were the one that got away.”

As if it had been natural, his fingers reflexively tangled within her hair, pushing the loose strands from her face behind her ear.

“Mm 5 years is a long time but I’m sure we could work it out.” He responds playfully, making her laugh as she leans in to wrap her arms around his waist.

From that day on Heeseung had found himself smiling more. She's encouraged him to be the best version of himself that he could be. She was the reason he’d gone into work with a smile on his face every day. How could he not wake up with a smile when he’d get to wake up and see her beautiful face on his phone every morning. It had taken five years for him to take her on a proper date but it had been completely worth the wait, their first date leading to months of then being together. In his eyes it was all perfect, there was no way he could have known the secrets she’d been keeping from him. The true reason that she had gathered them all together, the real reason she had decided to finally confess all the things she’d once felt.

“Heeseung I need to pack for my flight tonight, I won’t get anything done if you don’t let go.”

Heeseung had been holding onto her waist, his face buried into her back as his other hand rested upon her hip.

“You could always just stay home, I’m sure that work could wait another day, they can’t open an exhibit without the artist.” Heeseung responds, his voice muffled against the nape of her neck as he speaks. Only pulling his face away momentarily as he scoops her up and carries her over to the bed

“As much as i’d love to stay and lie around with you I can’t push off this event Seung, I’m running out of time.”

“You say that as if they could open the place without you.” He responds hovering over her, his arms caging her in and trapping her against the bed, forcing her to give in and succumb to his temptations.

“I know they can’t, but I’ve been waiting for this moment, Heeseung, I can’t push this off further than saturday.” Heeseung responds with soft hums as he begins to press soft loving kisses against her exposed skin. His hand slipped past her crop top until it rested against the bare skin of her stomach.

She was already quite familiar with this tactic of his by now, he’d always found ways to distract her whether that be with his sweet kisses or something far more dirty and pornographic like shoving his fingers so deep into her cunt that she was a complete mess, agreeing to everything he’d said.

“Well if you’re going to go, I’ll make sure I’ll leave some art of my own since I can’t join you.”

That was all that needed to be said before he had his lips on her skin once more and she had her fingers tangled in his hair. As he peppered slow, loving kisses along her neck and chest she couldn’t help but feel true peace in that moment of being with him.

Heeseung completely worshiped the ground she walked on.

To him she was completely intoxicating, her scent, her voice, her body, her touch; All of it was like his drug. Bringing her hand to his lips he placed loving kisses from her wrist up to her shoulder, a gesture that made the butterflies in her stomach go frantic . He felt the way her body relaxed and temperature had risen at the contact and it went without saying he was satisfied with the reaction. A reaction he had earned from her countless times yet would never tire of it.

Soft hums spilled from his lips, as he began to undress her while adorning her beautiful skin with kisses. It wasn't until she felt his fingertip trail down the soft skin of her stomach that the urge to be entangled with him had become more urgent. As Heeseungs fingers slipped beneath her pajama bottoms and past her underwear her body shivers. She’d no time to register his actions because before she’d known he had already been rubbing circles around her clit. Heeseung was absolutely content with this moment, having earned soft moans from her, watching as her hand clasped onto his wrist.

The way her back arched and her nails dug into his soft skin. The combination of her moans and her soft skin against his tongue was enough to drive him mad. He had barely even touched her yet her body had already been so responsive. He knew it would only be a handful of seconds until his name would spill from her lips in that sweet melodic tone like always. Seconds later he slipped in two fingers, taking the time to stretch her out and feel her out before he began to thrust them in and out slowly. Her desperate whining for him to move them faster only causes him to slow them down, he was completely blinded by his desire to hear his baby from her lips once more. The way his name fell from her lips always sounded so sweet.

“Seung, baby please, please my love.'' She’d choke out, her words barely audible but it was good enough for him because no matter how she’d said it the sound of his name from her lips was something he always loved to hear. Slipping in yet another finger he watched the way her expressions changed as he thrust them into her with feverish haste. He wanted desperately to read her thoughts and know the desires that swam around her pretty head when he had her like this, but it seemed that at the moment nothing was there. She was completely consumed by the mere thought of him and all the things that he was now doing to her.

“So beautiful, everything about you is so fucking beautiful, your smile, your eyes, your hair your voice.” His hand roamed over her body, leaving a fiery feeling over every place he’d touched. A touch that always left her longing for more no matter how many times she felt it.

He on the other hand always found delight in the way she squirmed and her body convulsed when he continued to stretch her out and pump his fingers inside of her. His eyes caught her gaze as he stopped to remove his fingers and bring them to his lips.

Her boba eyes that were usually so cute and sweet, now full of devilish desires that’d make angels weep. As sweet as she’d tasted there was nothing sweeter than the sound of her begging and pleading for him to give her more. So this time rather than shove his fingers deep into her clit he finds himself scooping her legs up and going between her thighs. His eyes gazed up at her beautiful face as he left kisses and hickeys on her inner thighs before sinking his teeth into them. His action earned a small yelp from her before and a tug on his dark locks as her fingers grasped at his hair. He was taking his time with her this morning, he needed all the time in the world to worship her before she’d leave, to treat her body like a goddess that only he could touch.

Heeseungs eyes remained glued to her seconds after his lips met her clit, the lewd sounds that spilled from her mouth following his actions made him desperate to hear more. His tongue slithered past her folds and as her head fell back against the bed he thought he’d go crazy at the sight. The blissed out look on her face and the way she’d pulled at his hair. Every now and then pushing his face deeper between her thighs it made his hunger for her all the more insatiable.

''So pretty like this, my beautiful work of art, so fucking beautiful.'' While his tongue abused her clit, he slipped in two fingers, stretching her out and shoving his tongue further than before. He gave her no time to respond before he was attacking the heat between her legs as if he himself was desperate to touch her just as she was for him to touch her.

Her fingers tugged at his dark locks as his tongue played with your sensitive cunt. It was a feeling she had felt time and time again with him but each time it seemed to be all the more pleasurable. The way his tongue and lips attacked her clit so vigorously made her thighs tremble. Having sensed her body's attempts to lock his head between her thighs, Heeseung immediately forces them back down against the bed. Her moans like music to his ears, simply hearing the way she whines and cries out for him and him only. As if he had been watching a film his eyes locked onto her, admiring her expressions as her face contorted at the pleasure. The moment he felt you clench around his tongue and fingers he became well aware that you were reaching your breaking point.

"Go ahead baby let it out.'' he hums against her, his face still buried between her thighs and as she squirms beneath him. Then finally she came on his tongue he couldn't help but stare up at you proudly.

“That’s one.” Heeseung had given her nooo time to breathe before he’d been switching her positions preparing her for a near endless session with him before she’d need to rest and pack for her long night that awaited.

Heeseung traced circles on her bare skin as she rested against his chest. Having fallen asleep after their earlier escapades, she’d needed all the rest she could get before she had to get up and pack to catch her flight.

Heeseung couldn’t help but stare at her sleeping frame proudly. The girl he’d thought he let get away had come back to him, and was now all his.

The sun had been peeking through the curtains and Heeseung sighs remembering that he’d have to go without seeing his beautiful girl for three days. She’d only gone last night but it had already felt as if she had been gone a lifetime.

Forcing himself out of bed he made his way into the bathroom, readying himself for the day ahead, that he knew would drag on since he would be returning home and see wouldn’t be there.

His day had gone on normal, as per usual he’d enter the studio, starting off with simple beats and tracks he’d thrown together for his artists. Everything seemingly in place until his phone vibrates in his pocket and a smile lights up his face as he sees her name appear on the front screen. A smile that had gone as quick as it had come as he answered and heard another woman’s voice on the other line. It was as if life had completely slowed and his heart had stopped beating in his chest, surely what he was hearing was a joke, some sort of twisted, sick joke or ploy to get him to fly there and hold her in his arms. No matter how much he tried to spin it, how hard he tried to deny what he’d heard, it all became far too real the moment he’d stepped off a plane and into a New York City hospital.

Heeseung had felt numb the moment he’d entered the place. He couldn’t register that anything that had happened beyond the phone call, had even been real. He sat on the opposite side of the glass watching as they covered his girlfriend's body.

“Lee Heeseung?” Heeseungs eyes met the nurses, no life behind them after having just realized he’d never get to hold his girlfriend in his arms again beyond this point.

“I know this may not be the best time, but she left this for you. I’ll leave you alone to open it.” After placing a box into his hands the nurse had left him alone.

It was a small box, inside was a letter and a few other things tied together with a fuzzy white string. Up until now Heeseung had completely held it together, that was until he pulled the letter from the box and could no longer stop the tears from spilling from his eyes as he read.

Heeseung,

If you’re reading this then, it means I finally was able to open my heart to you. I’m not as good with letters as you and the others but, I want you to know that I love you. I love all of you but especially you. I’ve loved you since then too, since the day I found you sat in the classroom with the others and you accepted the candy I'd given you even though you absolutely hated sweets then. When i’d gathered you all that day it wasn’t simply because I wanted to see you all that day, I’ve known for some time now that I didn’t have much time. Though I didn't know when I knew eventually I’d go and that you all would never hear from me again. I simply wanted to see you all one last time. Though I found myself being far happier than I could have ever imagined with you. My heart is now so full of you I could hardly know my own. I know that this is selfish of me, allowing myself to love you and you to love me when I know that the outcome can only cause you pain, but I wanted the chance to love you before I’d never get to love again. I’m sorry to leave you in such a way but I let my selfishness get the best of me. I hope that you will continue to live in Heeseung, to live without me even though you’ve waited so long to have me as yours.

Paper clipped behind the letter was a ticket. A ticket in which Heeseung had hesitated to use for days to put to use. He had become so numb that nothing mattered and eventually he had completely forgotten about it until he had been helping his mom clear things from her old art studio.

Though the date on the ticket was long gone and had expired, he’d finally put it to use. Putting his grief aside he found himself standing outside of the building where she had just opened her exhibit. As he stepped inside every one of his emotions had come crashing down as he’d found himself not only surrounded by art, but art that had symbolized the love the two of them had shared in just those four months alone, for every art piece had tied to a memory of hers

[writer-freak]

Spoiled Rafayel x bodyguard reader

Idea: Spoiled bratty rich girl x bodyguard who's forced to put up with it

Warnings: Gn reader, fluff, AU, strong reader, Rafayel being overdramatic, Rafayel being a tease and a bit of a brat, pretty short I just wrote down whatever came to me A/n: I had this little idea of for a spoiled rich girl x reader and who would fit better for this type of a scenario than Rafayel. Reader isn't really meant to be Mc and this is more of an AU. Maybe I'm gonna write some more for this idea as I find it pretty fun.l

"You're not carrying me?" Rafayel blinked at you, all wide, expectant eyes, his lips forming into a pout. "But my legs hurt."

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Your legs don’t hurt. You just don’t want to walk."

He gasped, clutching his chest like you’d just stabbed him. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing? I—"

"You literally just told me that your custom-made boots are the most comfortable things you've ever owned."

"A betrayal of this magnitude... and from my own bodyguard!" He dramatically leaned against the nearest wall, resting the back of his hand on his forehead.

"Rafayel."

"Look at me, left to suffer. The streets are so—so dirty, and here I am, expected to walk like some commoner."

You were this close to walking away and letting him figure it out himself. But no, you were his bodyguard, and no matter how insufferable and annoying he was, you were stuck with him.

Unfortunately.

"Listen, your highness," you drawled, grabbing his arm and forcing him back upright. "You have two perfectly good legs. Use them. Or do you want me to throw you over my shoulder and carry you like a sack of potatoes?"

His eyes shined at that, a wicked smirk appearing on his lips. "Oh? How bold of you. Are you sure you can handle all this?" He gestured vaguely at himself. "I am quite the precious cargo."

You let go of his arm. "Walk."

"Ugh, fine." He sighed like you were asking him to climb a mountain instead of just taking a few steps. "But if my legs fall off, I hope you can live with the guilt."

This was your life. Babysitting a spoiled, dramatic, and entirely too attractive pain in the ass.

You weren’t sure exactly when things started to change.

Maybe it was the way he started listening to you more, actually taking your orders seriously instead of treating them like some funny suggestions.

Maybe it was the way he’d hover a little too close after a fight, his eyes scanning you for injuries, lips drawn into a rare frown.

Or maybe it was the way your heart didn’t jump in frustration anymore when he teased you, but instead, your heart jumped with some other more dangerous feeling.

"You know," Rafayel mused one day, sprawled across a luxurious couch while you stood stiffly by the door. "I think I've grown quite fond of you."

You arched a brow. "Oh? In a ‘you’re my favorite servant’ kind of way?"

He grinned. "In a my bodyguard is the only person I trust and also happens to be devastatingly attractive kind of way."

You stared at him. "Rafayel."

"Yes, my dear protector?"

You exhaled sharply, trying so hard not to let his words affect you. "You can’t just—just say things like that."

He tilted his head, his eyes glittering. "Why not? Does it fluster you?"

You turned away, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck. "I’m leaving."

"But who's going to protect me from all the dangers of the world that are out to get me?"

"You'll be fine."

"Wait, wait!" He scrambled up. "Fine, fine! I won't tease you. At leasdt not as much." He looked at you, his gaze softer now. "But you are my favorite."

You sighed, but this time, you couldn’t quite fight off the small smile tugging at your lips.

Maybe this job wasn’t so bad after all.

Divider by: @cafekitsune

[poppitron360]

@cometmoons so for some reason tumblr has glitched and isn’t letting me respond to the ask you sent me so I’m just gonna do it like this.

OK OK OK OK OK OK SO-

There is SO MUCH to talk about with Wouldn’t You Like. I feel like it’s hard to describe on a written post so I took the liberty of downloading a music notation app and transcribing the bits I wanted to talk about (This took me aaaages. But it was a really fun process and taught me a lot.)

Be warned this is a LONG post.

Firstly, here’s my overall take on the narrative of this song:

Odysseus is one of the smartest heroes of Greek Myth. He’s a mentee of Athena. He’s tactical. Yes, he is a fighter, but he’s for the most part a strategist and he uses diplomacy and cunning and his words to defeat his foes. Big Slytherin energy. Up until this point, that’s all he’s ever used. Eurylochus has doubted and challenged this approach, and has now come to him, saying that Circe is too powerful to defeat and that they should just run away. Odysseus “Pride is my fatal flaw” of Ithaca is insisting on fighting Circe, but is realising that he might not be able to talk his way out of it.

Hermes has now shown up like “hey ✨dAhLiNg✨how about you try something different? DRUGS!”, offering him a taste of something he’s never had before… power.

This, in my opinion, is a big step in Odysseus’ fall from man into monster, and Jay uses music in so many different ways to convey that, so let’s start with a break down of the song one section at a time:

Intro:

For most of the song, you’ve got the Lyre/Harp playing- Hemes’ signature instrument, which is significant to him because according to myth he invented the Lyre. This is the first thing we hear in the song, immediately setting up the things you need to identify his character.

Harps and Lyres are typically used in film and videogame music to give a mystical, magical atmosphere. I love how Jay blends modern (1980s) Synthpop with more classical, eclectic instruments that don’t normally fit the style. I’m assuming for budgeting reasons he’s using a VST or some kind of sample pack and not a real harp (session musicians are EXPENSIVE), but still- you hardly ever hear a harp in this kind of music but it WORKS.

The introduction played by the harp also lays out something that is shown throughout the whole song:

AEOLIAN MODE!!!!

Modes are hard to explain bc I barely understand them myself (I said music theory was my special interest, not that I was any good at it) but according to the Wikepedia article I’m reading about them right now, they were used a lot in ANCIENT GREECE. The Aeolian mode specifically was used a lot back then. The word “Aeolian” comes from… you guessed it- the Islands of Aeolus!!!

Aeolus, being the God of the wind- Aeolian mode is this mystical, free-flowing mode that simulates the feeling of wind.

You know when you hear a high wind through a telegraph pole you get this whistling sound? That’s basically a rudimentary, naturally occurring Aeolian Harp. There’s a whole Physics lecture about sound frequencies and microtones and shit in here that I am not yet qualified to give but this kind of stuff FASCINATES me about music.

I found this 60sec short that explains Aeolian mode really well from a channel I really like: https://youtu.be/bJ6TRQ3k45Q?si=sksSz4xyf_96uMrp It’ll give a much more concise explanation than I could, but basically all you need to know is that the melodies are in this special scale.

Aeolian mode is the natural minor scale. It’s often used to feel spooky and mystical- perfect for a song like Wouldn’t You Like where this magical character is singing about a magical plant. It’s not the standard G minor scale, but something a little more twisted and not really something we’re used to hearing, giving it a mysterious quality.

This is established immediately by the harpline, and sets the entire tone of the song. We then hear his trademark giggle, and so in the first 3 seconds we know everything we need to know about who Hermes is and what he’s like.

Speaking of the giggle- I briefly mentioned Panning in my post about Scylla, and while I can’t discern any use of it just by listening, but I imagine Jay’s probably used a subtle amount of it to give the sense of Hermes flying overhead.

Panning is a thing done in audio production where you can choose how much of the sound is heard on the left or the right.

Verse 1 (“I must say”… etc.):

It’s very gentle at this point, the orchestration and vocalisation is calm and lilted. It’s very beautiful, although the minor tonality gives it a slightly uneasy feel. (Often the minor key is described as sounding “sad”, but that’s not always the case. This is a great example).

The harp melody is repetitive, giving a sense of persistence, this adds to the sense of unease. It also has elements of hip-hop, as a gentle beat comes in as the chorus starts.

Chorus 1:

Now the harp cuts out and you’ve got that synth bass-line coming in- the repetitive, insistent beats and this “four-on-the-floor” drum pattern where the bass drum (which sits on the floor) kicks on every beat (in a four-beat bar). This feeling of it almost pounding in your head on every thump.

The instrumentation is very stark, you’ve just got the vocalist, the bass, and the bass drum. This technique is used by Taylor Swift in both the songs “Look What You Made Me Do” and “Vigilante Shit”- this really makes you listen to the lyrics as there’s nothing distracting you. As this is the first time we’re hearing these words, it draws you into what he’s saying.

On the line “Wouldn’t you like to have some of the magic?”, the Lyre comes in, playing this repetitive line that goes up and down and up and down. It’s a repetitive, almost hypnotic sound.

Verse 2 (“She can turn you to an animal”… etc.):

This is when this bluesy piano comes in.

The piano is used a lot in different points of Epic- it’s an essential part of any musical orchestra pit or just a song in general, and crucial in every composers instrumentation arsenal (and was also the first instrument I ever learned to play and my first real taste of music, so it’s not like I’m biased or anything)- but it’s mostly associated with Athena as it’s her signature instrument. It’s a stretch, but my interpretation is that Hermes is trying to appeal to something familiar to Odysseus. So far the only God he’s interacted with at length is Athena, who taught him this idea of being strategic and tactical. Hermes is acknowledging that this is Odysseus’ main way of fighting, while also showing him that there could be something more to it.

The piano plays these low-octave chords in this syncopated rhythm, which adds a layer of intensity that you didn’t have in verse one. This continues into the second chorus.

Chorus 2:

The orchestration is much more intense, pulling the audience (and Odysseus) in.

I’m gonna talk a lot about the musical “language” that Jorge has established for the universe- bits of music theory he’s tied in with themes that don’t necessarily have the same connotations anywhere else, because I think it’s genius.

Jay has said that the mythical beings (Gods, monsters, Odysseus when he kills the suitors) are all able to summon non-diagetic backing vocalists to back them up. Interestingly, Hermes doesn’t use this the first time round, speaking to Ody on his level, and is now rising up and displaying the power he’s tempting him with.

This is when we first hear the backing vocalists. There’s now a group of voices, so there’s more people urging you to taste the flower. Musically speaking, the harmony moving in the same rhythm with the same words as the soloist creates a sense of movement, congruent with Ody’s temptation.

Here is where we get to how this harmony works. This is the section that will actually answer your question.

First of all, I also struggle with overstimulation so I totally get what you’re talking about. There’s a right way and a wrong way to do backing vocals, and I know from experience that writing harmonies as complex as this takes skill and practice.

I think that’s why music is so special to me. The sensory calm certain sounds and songs give me, the good kind of stimulation and the bad kind. It has always made me so curious as to why and how the choices made in music can impact a person psychologically, make the listener feel immersed in a story, inflict specific emotions.

This is what fascinates me about music theory. Yes, it should overwhelm you. Yes, it should sound wrong. But it doesn’t. It WORKS. And what’s so interesting to me is why.

Jorge describes it as “crunchy and punchy” which is honestly perfect.

He is of course, referring to dissonance.

I have been studying music most of my life, and pretty much every music teacher I’ve ever had describes dissonance as just “sounding smushy”. It’s actually “a lack of harmony among musical notes”, usually two notes next to each other played at the same time.

But why does this sound “crunchy” and not “smushy”?

The Melody remains modal, as it has done the entire song. This is our grounding, our “Home”, but the harmony does something different. It’s moving down and up, flowing like wind, like the sea. And it’s doing this chromatically- using notes from the G minor key instead of the Aeolian mode- which creates clashes. Also known as dissonance. Also known as “smushy”.

And this is where we break out the good ol’ notation! I transcribed this myself by ear, so it might not be perfect. I can sight read tablature but not sheet music, so if this is wildly off then I’m sorry. I find it easier to explain music through annotations, but in order to make this screenreader accessible, I’m just gonna cite the lyrics and explain it in the text underneath.

In this section, “Wouldn’t you like to have some of the magic? Wouldn’t you like your outcome preferred?” The melody pretty much remains on C this whole time, only changing at the end of each two-bar phrase. This gives a forceful, repetitive, driving feeling. Hermes is being very persistent here.

For the first two-bar phrase- “Wouldn’t you like to have some of the magic”- both harmonies are the same. They then split at “Wouldn’t you like your outcome preferred?”

“Wouldn’t you”- The harmony starts on G, which is the root of G minor (the key that we are in). This is diatonic (using the notes from the key)- so it sounds nice, not “smushy”.

“Like to”- We then go down to F sharp, which is dissonant to the Aeolian mode, even though it’s the major 7th of G minor. This is why it sounds “smushy”

“Have some of the”- And here is where the “crunchiness” kicks in. It’s resolving down to the flattened 7th, which is F natural. The flattened 7th is the modal note.

“Magic”- The first two-bar phrase ends in E natural, which is dissonant to the mode. The melody also ends in D, which provides a lot of dissonance with the E as they are right next to each other, which can create clashes.

“Wouldn’t you”- This is where the two harmonies split. Harmony 1 goes back to G, which is the root of the mode. Harmony 2 goes down to E flat, which is also consonant (not dissonant).

“Like your”- Harmony 2 goes down to D, which is dissonant with the note in the melody (C) because they are next to each other. Harmony 1 goes to F sharp, which is dissonant to the Aeolian mode, as said before.

“Outcome”- Harmony 1 resolves to an F, and Harmony 2 goes back to an E flat.

“Preferred”- The last two notes “smush” as F natural (Harmony 1) and E natural (Harmony 2) are a semitone apart, then both harmonies join at E natural, which clashes with the D in the melody.

So the pattern goes from “nice” to “smush” to “nice” to “smush” to “nice” to “smush” to “nice” to “even more smush” and then when the next part of the harmony starts “deep in the night” you resolve back to the G, which is the tonic note.

Why does the dissonance work in this song?

It’s passing. Going down by step and resolving to a modal note. Passing notes that resolve don’t have that smushyness. They crunch.

Dissonance is a funny thing. Often musicians stay away from it because it sounds muddy and awkward and not great, but it can at times sound quite sweet, and with skill and knowledge you can learn how to use it effectively.

It also works here because it fits with the aesthetic and Hermes’ character. We’re already in this spooky, mysterious mode. We’re in a minor key. And Jay is using all these other musical techniques to give a slightly uneasy, hypnotic feel. The dissonance feels strange- not the sweet, diatonic harmonies we’re used to hearing. This is what makes this song stand out, and what makes Hermes such an intriguing and appealing character.

There’s this “up and down” melodic pattern that occurs throughout the song in several places. While Harmony 2 is doing that, Harmony 1 is just going down, repeatedly. I find it interesting that Odysseus isn’t rising to this power, but falling to it. It hints at Hermes’ trickster nature. These musical motifs (harmony, the harpline, the synthline, etc.) go up and down and up and down and up and down like gentle waves. We’re on the ocean. It’s lulling, compelling, hypnotic. “Come hither” whispering in the ear. It’s creepy, to be honest, and shows a darker side of the song that I will talk about later.

Bridge (“Here in the root of this flower”…etc):

Jorge has talked about how this is one of his favourite bits to sing, and musically that makes perfect sense.

Firstly, you’ve gotta hand it to Troy Doherty’s amazing performance. Hermes is so expressive even without seeing him.

Quick note about vocal techniques- YOU CAN HEAR SMILES. The act of smiling changes the shape of your mouth and thus changes the quality of your voice. You can HEAR Troy break out into a smile on the line “Though it’s only for a moment, ‘til you’ve beaten your opponent”. This is also my theory as to why the line “Penelope Whyyyy, you know I’m too shyy” is so stuck in everyone’s mind. Try singing it without smiling and then try singing it while smiling. Do you think it would’ve been that catchy if Jay wasn’t such a cutie pie?

Smiling is contagious, even if you’re only subconsciously noticing it. Hearing a smile gives you that little hit of dopamine.

When we hit the bridge, the piano, bass, and backing vocals cut out. Again, it’s just drums, harp, and lead vocals. This signifies a new section of music and also does the same trick as before- drawing you into the vocalist- but this time making you focus on the melody instead of the lyrics.

This whole bit is solely in Aeolian mode. The downward motion of the bridge increases the intensity of the song, dragging you into his words, falling into the power of the root. It’s sort of a callback to the downward motion to the second harmony line.

The constant quaver rhythm of this rising and falling conjunct “stepwise” melody gives a spiralling feeling, leading downwards. The rhythm is almost conversational, which fits with a mode like Aeolian that flows like the wind. It’s also why it’s so catchy and fun to sing. I love how Jorge composes in this uncommon scale in this particular pattern to reflect this idea.

There’s also one particular detail about the rhythm of this riff that compositionally shows something even deeper:

THIS IS IN TRIPLETS.

DO YOU KNOW WHAT TRIPLETS SYMBOLISE IN EPIC???

RUTHLESSNESS.

Ruthlessness is usually a theme reserved for Poseidon, Act 1 Athena, and Act 2 Odysseus. You wouldn’t expect a “friendly” God like Hermes to be using it. But he is. He’s being persistent, constant. He is trying every trick in his bag to persuade Ody to take the flower.

Jay is VERY deliberate about his arrangements and his composition, so this is not a coincidence. He has established this “language” of musical voices, rhythmical voices, and motivic voices to symbolise all his characters and themes. It’s fascinating to me that he made this choice for Hermes. Ever so subtly hinting that the God might not be as benevolent as he seems.

Chorus 3:

The instrumentation of this new chorus is pretty similar to Chorus 2, except…

These DRUMS.

I asked my dad about these while I was staying with my parents over the Xmas holidays, and it resulted in a 5-minuite-long infodump about a specific type of drum used in 80s pop music (yeah I totally definitely don’t see the family resemblance at all /sarcasm). Any Brit in the audience might recognise this drum sound as sounding almost identical the intro to a show called East Enders (which I never watched, but was aware of) and idk if that was Jay’s intention, but the drums apparently have a long and complicated history, which I will give you the abbreviated version. (If this is too much information you can skip the next paragraph if you so wish, I realise this can be overwhelming)

Bass drum called the Simmons’ drum- electronic drum pad- famous for being hexagonal- they were radical in that they gave an electronic palette to modern dummers- they weren’t well-built and the very earliest ones were made from the same composite materials as police riot gear- caused repetitive strain injury that became known by session drummers as “Simmon’s wrist” because it was a bit like using your drumsticks on concrete (What’s that? You don’t think music is as intense as sport? Musicians get injured just as much as footballers do)- the sound is one of the most distinctive sounds in 80s music and entirely synthetic, generated through synthesis so some poor technician had to sit and programme a synthesiser to sound like a tom-tom- in the 90s and early 00s it was seen as cheap and over-the-top but is now looked on with a sense of love and nostalgia.

This is, of course, a sample of the Simmon’s drum as I doubt Jorge owns a real one.

So what does that do for Hermes? It grounds the song it its 80s retro aesthetic, creating Hermes’ unique stylistic voice. Jorge has described how he got the idea for Hermes’ sound when he saw a retro, multi-coloured lamp that made him think of 80s music. Each character in Epic has their own soundscape, and this very particular drum sound adds to it.

It also adds intensity to this final chorus. These loud, heavy drum sounds give that adrenaline rush that the previous verses and choruses have been building to, when Odysseus finally takes the flower.

Then we get Odysseus singing the “oOOOooOoOOhHHHhs” as he eats the holy moly, then the chorus ends, and we get a repeat of the harpline from the intro as he thanks Hermes for the help.

My conclusion:

Odysseus has made a Faustian pact with Hermes, the trickster god. While Hermes’s words are friendly with no ill-intent, the composition and orchestration lean more towards this idea of “making a deal with the devil”. Gods know the game, and how it’s played. You, mere mortal, do not. When they entreat mortals to do their bidding will offer riches, money, fame, success, magic, power, but very rarely are their motives sound.

This is Odysseus’ first taste of the magic that separates gods and monsters from mortals. He is able to fight Circe as an equal, and this new development teaches him that he doesn’t always have to be strategic and diplomatic, but ruthless and relentless as well.

I know that the fandom see Troy Doherty’s performance of Hermes as “omg babygirl so slayyyy!!!” But there’s actually a deeper level to what he’s doing here. He’s a trickster God, tempting and teasing Odysseus down a path of magic and power- giving him the first taste of something that will later drive him into becoming the Monster. Hermes is almost seducing him to the dark side, using rhetorical questions, waving the Holy Moly in front of his face and saying “Come on. You know you want it. Wouldn’t you like a taste of the power? Wouldn’t you like to be victorious for once?” In his lyrics describing a “taste” of the power being something almost like a temptation. Odysseus is breaking from his norm- using magic and might instead of logic, diplomacy and reasoning. While he’s doing it to save his men, this is a major step in his descent into monsterhood, and it’s fascinating how Jay does this not only lyrically, but musically as well, using what’s called “word painting” (music and words working together) to create the sense of hypnotism and manipulation.

Hermes is being:

Ruthless (triplets),

Ceaseless (repetition),

Persuasive (rhetorical questions),

And hypnotic (lilting, lulling melody).

He’s drawing you in, forcing you to listen to him (stark instrumentation focusing on the vocals, then increasing the instrumentation as the intensity progressively increases, culminating in this big, expressive final chorus with this pwerful drum sound)

Overall Jorge uses all these techniques to show Hermes manipulating Odysseus into taking the flower. By subconsciously making you feel the temptation that Ody- the Narrator- is feeling through music and orchestration.

So anyway, those are my thoughts on “Wouldn’t you like”. I didn’t even have time to talk about “Dangerous”- perhaps I’ll make a separate post about that but no promises. Thank you so much for reading if you made it to the end!

[dervampireprince]

there was a little interest in me sharing my writing drabbles and ideas about lucien (my visiting king oc) and lysander (my villain oc) as a couple so here's all the things i shared in my discord last week (how was it only last week, it feels like forever ago).

[18+ only, minors dni]

note: lucien and lysander are both trans men with bottom and top surgery

i tried to format this in a way that's readable. it's a mix of different little scenarios including my entire summary of their plot of how they'd meet and get together. i had no idea how to format thisss.

-----------------------------

the message that started it all: peaking in from my uhh 3 hours of drawing as i attempt to make a design for the villain and keep hating what im drawing and scrapping the design and starting again to say hey. you know who'd treat him right? the visiting king

i thought about it as a joke but um. i dont think its a joke anymore.

-----------------------------

What if I shipped them:

Villain submitting looks like him crying, head throne back, sobbing, the king gently and slowly breaking him down, praising him, cradling him

King submitting looks like him on his knees, begging as the villain’s boot presses down onto his cock, begging to be touched however the villain sees fit, villain telling him how useful he is being 

Luce: I missed you. Ly: I was only gone for a week. Luce: Even an hour without your presence feels like a lifetime [kisses his hand]. Ly: [internally: what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck] [blushing profusely]

Lysander crying the first time Lucien fucks him because he’s being so gentle, works him open so slowly, tells him how beautiful he is, “Oh Zander,” Lucien coos when he’s finally seated inside him, Lysander embarrassed at how emotional he is, but Lucien pulls his hands from his face, kisses his them, tells him he’s perfect.

Lysander leaving Lucien with a cock ring on while he’s away.

Lucien is on his knees, ring around his straining cock. His moans are muffled, his hair tugged back and forth, as Lysander fucks his face. When Lysander pulls his cock out, Lucien begs. “Please Zander, please let me fuck you.” “Hmm,” Lysander pretends to think about it while Lucien keeps babbling, pleading over and over. “And what if I want to fuck you?” “Anything,” Lucien doesn’t even blink. “As long as my skin gets to touch yours, please, give me anything.” And what really can Lysander do with that other than have Lucien bent over the bed, fucking into him over and over, every time he gets close… he stops. He edges himself inside Lucien’s hole, all the while Lucien is unable to come from the ring around his cock. Once Lucien is relaxed and out of his mind enough to stop begging, to just take whatever Lysander gives him, to stop thinking, that’s when Lysander will let him come.

okay so how i see it happening.

lucien somehow finds out about what's going on in lysander's city and wants to help. they start meeting each other. lysander does not trust him, doesn't want to trust him, because he's never been able to put any trust or faith in a nobility or royalty or higher ups. but lucien just seems so... nice. good. and that can't be right, no one can be that nice without something to gain, without some agenda.

but time passes. lucien is really just that nice. and he sees good in lysander. and lysander knows what he's doing isn't wrong, he believes what he's doing is right, but he also doesn't really believe he's a good person. and lucien tells him he is. and that annoys him because it makes him *feel*.

and lucien ends up helping too much. or doing something to help lysander's people that makes lysander feel inept. who does lucien think he is, swooping in with his riches and power. doing things for them lysander couldn't because he didn't have the money. and maybe lysander takes it as lucien trying to make him feel small and poor, but that isn't how lucien meant it. and lysander knows that deep down. but it's easier to get angry at lucien than accept that it's okay if he wants or needs this man's help. so he gets angry at lucien.

and lysander know's he's wrong for blowing up at him. for pushing him away. and after an amount of time of feeling sorry for himself, he goes to see lucien. shows up on his doorstep and apologies. and lucien just accepts it. this stupid fucking kind man just accepts it, says he understands, *he* apologies for overstepping, that he should have consulted lysander, doesn't want to cross any boundaries, tells lysander he's doing a good job and that wall inside lysander just comes crumbling down.

lysander stays the night, in his own room lucien has set aside. and in the morning lucien invites him for breakfast. and then on a walk, touring his gardens. and lysander asks what the fuck all of this is. and lucien says he just wants to help, but admits to having one ulterior  motive. and lysander thinks finally he's got him but the lucien says "i wanted an excuse to keep seeing you".

lysander calls him a stupid man. blusters and tries to act like he doesn't understand what lucien is getting at, but he does. and lucien just stands there patiently, until lysander has finished ranting, and then asks lysander if he can court him. if he can kiss him.

and lysander says yes.

Lysander telling Lucien to stop fucking him like he’s gonna break. Lucien says he’s not into causing pain. But Lysander’s not asking for pain, he’s just asking if Lucien ever wants to just pound into him. It takes some convincing that he’s allowed too (Lucien is worried he’s too big and could too easily hurt someone) but Lysander assures him that he wants to be fucked hard.

[nightmarearian]

Code: Auto

Having been without autonomy their entire life, Zetta, under the name Code: Auto, has been consumed by desperation to even just die on their own terms. They don't seem to care much for it's own well-being, with nothing to lose. Their Reuniclus-like body is incredibly acidic, irregularly corrupted by Rift Matter, and melting their old human body into bloody cytoplasm and bone-mesh.

The pure desperation has caused Zetta to opening a Dimensional Rift in themself, corrupting each of their odd cells. The Dimensional Rift that transformed Zetta seems to have been an irregular one, not affecting them as it usually would another. Whether this is because of their state as a human and Pokemon, or due to the fact they are a creator of Rift Matter themselves is unknown. Evidenced by it's eventual Ghost-Typing, they seemed to have gained their wish to die on their own terms, no matter how painful.

Rift Zetta :)

(Here's them on their own)

> "Auto" is meant to refer to "Self" and "Autonomy", referencing that Zetta used a Dimensional Rift on themself, and the whole thing with their lack of autonomy.

> Currently (it's still up in the air), the battle, wherever it would be*, would start Zetta off as psychic/poison (1st phase), and then after the third shield, they turn into a psychic/ghost** type(2nd phase), meaning that. You know. He died. :)

*> I know I drew a cave, but that's also up in the air. Surprisingly there's no field that's really geared towards psychic that isn't psychic terrain and one that fits the vibe. I'm leaning towards something in Xen( Xen lab?) but definitely something contained, walled in. Minimal exits/escapes and all that.

**> While the exact battle/moveset stuff is deeeffffinitely not set in stone, they absolutely have Focus Blast. oh oh oh a toxic (spikes?) and then a hex from phase 1 to 2 would be good. yeah. hm. Baneful Bunker or toxic or toxic spikes??? or poison point/ability along the lines of that? ughhhhh

> So in the first phase Zetta is, obviously, melting. His arms have melted into a Reuniclus-like cytoplasm, and the idea is that his bones have broken as the cytoplasm-like limbs start to duplicate, sort of like how the nucleus and shit duplicate and then the cell splits for mitosis. If that makes sense.

> The bones, as they're breaking and duplicating into more arms, are melting into those cell-organs Reuniclus has, essentially.

> The rest of his body is essentially pretty amorphous/genuinely melting into nothing, though when they die their state as a ghost lends itself to something a bit more stable, as their memory/perception of themselves would. yk. give them that. or smth.

> Their stats basically boil down to glass-canon, since Zetta doesn't really have any intent to really defend themself. They just want to, at least, die on their own terms; they don't really expect to make it out alive. They do have some defense, but the idea is that they hit hard and fast, before you can really hit back. 2nd Phase gets some more defense though.

> I doooo want him to be like. Helped. LIke Garbodor or smth. Like Erick or some other scientist type (Nastasia works too, actually. Definitely works) gets the notes from the Interceptor and he gets... uhm.

So. He does still end up dead. He is ghost, but a much more corporeal and consistent ghost, sort like how Gengar is. Depending on his mood he can appear on a sliding scale like normal Zetta or Rift Zetta. The middle point would him having Reuniclus arms and an arm or two floating behind him, but not completely melted/cytoplasm. They spend sometime in the/a lab (and has maaaaany panic attacks about it. being born and then immediately tested-abused on does that) healing/getting stabilized. Tbh i see him hanging around Geara if he's with Xen(? Maybe. Dunno if he's for or against Xen in this) cause Goldenleaf + Semi-Ghost specialty. and a bit of valorshipping :) And he gets ghost/psychic powers. definitely. absolutely. as a treat. he deserves it.

Yeah. That.

> Tbh the main vibe about this and the desperation is that one saying about a cornered animal willing to gnaw off their own leg to escape. Pure desperation. As my original notes say "willing to damn itself to live/die on it's/his terms."

> I drew phase 2 before phase 1, so. hm. if anything's a bit incongruent cause of that, yeah. I also got really tired by the end, so I sorta half-assed the last parts of phase 1

> uhhhhhh yeah that's all the lore i remember for now. There's absolutely going to be more I remember later that I'll probably add on later. oh well.

> Oh also the Luxray is my main lead in my playthrough rn, so he gets to show up :)

[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

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Further thoughts: that "who the hell is Bucky" line fits so much better with the comic version of the character than the near-silent guy we see in the MCU. In the comics, that moment is in the context of Steve trying to talk the Winter Soldier down from setting off a bomb, and Bucky barely glances up from his demolitions long enough to snap off the line.

Comic!Winter Soldier is snarky, sassy, irreverent — very much like Bucky Barnes. Like, Steve is convinced that "he's not in control"... but that doesn't really fit with what we see, and so much of Brubaker's Captain America run is about how Steve is an object of propaganda who believes in his own propaganda because his entire life would lose all meaning if he ever stopped believing for a second. Plus, Steve has some obvious reasons for wanting to believe that Bucky would be "not responsible for his actions," after watching his oldest friend blow up an apartment building full of civilians.

Like, Steve. Kiddo. If that's true, why is Rick Jones dead? I kinda doubt that the USSR has a vendetta against some contractor whose only claim to fame was that he briefly partnered with Captain America while using the codename Bucky a few decades ago. This run's whole message is "America's memory is short and rose-tinted," returning repeatedly to the gaps in Steve's story of WWII, and thus nothing in his narration can be taken as unfiltered truth.

This take on the Winter Soldier is just so much more interesting. Again: I get it. The movie had to convey Bucky is being mind controlled, and the simplest way to do that was to direct Sebastian Stan to act like a 6-foot marionette.

But there's so so so much there to "Steve's feelings about Bucky are the U.S.'s feelings about the USSR." Including layers such as "We were allies against the Nazis and then I don't know what happened," "We're fighting with the same weapons and techniques," "Okay, but there are some lines I won't cross (ignore all the times I crossed those lines)," "I want peace with you," "I'm scared of you," "I don't know who you are anymore (I don't know who I am anymore)," "I want to believe this has a simple answer," "I miss being friends, because I want to believe things were simple back then," and so on.

Just having it be "Bucky is being Literally Puppeted by Literal Nazis", even with the recognition that you had these be Nazis who work for the CIA? IMHO, it loses something in translation.

@dr-reids-fidget-toy#omg I didn’t know that about comic bucky that’s rlly cool

Starting a new post because I have off-topic Thoughts. Comic!Bucky contains fascinating commentary on the Cold War, WWII, and the media representations thereof. MCU!Bucky is (by necessity) pretty watered down. In the Brubaker comics, Bucky isn't brainwashed, at least not in the classic Marvel sense. He's just this guy who believes in the absolute rightness of his country, and has been in combat to support the U.S. since age ~14... and then he gets blown up by a missile, loses his memory, and Department X tells him "his country" is the USSR. So now he's the Winter Soldier. Nothing else about his personality or his politics changes. The Winter Soldier we see in the Brubaker comics is definitely a villain — he kills indiscriminately, kidnaps civilians to get his way, murders Rick Jones out of petty spite. But his personality is basically the same from childhood.

This is Steve remembering Bucky as a kid during WWII:

Brubaker retcons Bucky's role, from "kid sidekick who rushes in first and gets kidnapped, needing Captain America to rescue him," to "kid agent who infiltrates bases first, so that Captain America can follow him." With the memory loss, Bucky goes from slitting throats and setting off bombs for Uncle Sam, to doing it for Mother Russia. He's always been as cold and as willing to kill witnesses as he is as the Winter Soldier. It just never made the news reals.

And that's the other half of his retconned role: being propaganda for other child soldiers (e.g. Toro) who join up in his wake. This is Bucky and Steve watching a Cap and Bucky recruitment newsreel:

As an adult, the real difference isn't that Bucky is Soviet now; it's that he doesn't have Steve holding his leash anymore. To be clear, comic Winter Soldier also isn't free to come and go as he pleases — he's kept in a freezer between missions, he's probably not paid, he's in Department X — but he also has far more agency within the latitude of his orders. He's not dead-eyed and tortured by guilt like we see in the MCU. He goes on side quests to kill other Buckies. He argues constantly with Aleksander Lukin (the comic equivalent of Pierce). He complains about the inconvenience of not just sniping Steve in the head to steal the Tesseract.

Brubaker's point, throughout the comic, is that we have been lied to about World War II being "noble" or "good" or the story of the U.S. saving the day. And that that lie is used to prop up everything from U2 spy planes built with 100x the budget for education, to the Patriot Act nullifying the Fourth Amendment. Because not only is "WWII was a noble war fought without atrocities" nationalistic bullshit, but "Soviets are fundamentally different from us" is too. Bucky's continuity of character reveals both at once. He's a walking Soviet superweapon. Why? Because he was a walking American superweapon first, starting before he was old enough to shave.

Anyway, I get why the MCU had to change his backstory. You have to a) remind the audience who Bucky is, b) show-don't-tell why Steve is sad Bucky is trying to kill him, c) get across the idea that Bucky doesn't want to kill Steve but feels he has to, d) use Bucky to develop Steve's character, and e) set up a way for Bucky to get un-brainwashed. All within the span of ~30 minutes this movie has for this plot, amidst all the other plots. MCU!Bucky plaintively asking Pierce who Steve was, only to get slapped in the face, is sort of like AniTV!Tom constantly pawing at his ear: it quickly gets across that this character isn't acting under his own volition, in a way that minimizes audience confusion.

Plus: it's a Hollywood movie. It wouldn't get funded if it was too critical of the U.S. military. Movies are always, by definition, more conservative than other media because of their need for funding. And the MCU makes a decent effort to incorporate at least some criticism of the U.S., having Zola be involved in Operation Paperclip and having him (while working for the U.S.) order Howard Stark's murder. But a computer ghost reciting dry facts about the CIA recruiting Nazis doesn't have the same gut punch as watching the "good guys" send the literal child to knife his fellow child soldiers during WWII would have had.