#separate to taylor herself

[judeharoldvich]

the eras-as-characters concept is so interesting to me. naturally lover and rep are girlfriends. folklore and evermore are sisters with evermore being the older sister...it just makes the most sense for some reason even though evermore came after folklore. but then 1989 and midnights feel connected in some way but are they sisters or girlfriends or something else? personally i think they're rivals, albeit with a begrudging respect for one another. no matter how hard they try they can't get on. 1989 is full of youthful optimism and energy, a real social butterfly and a bit of a party animal at times. meanwhile midnights is perpetually tired, cynical, moody and introverted. even at her low points, 1989 remains light and airy, meanwhile midnights has shimmering highs and stormy lows. even at her peaks midnights is tinged with wistfulness or bitterness, even when she's bejewelled she feels the need remind the people who dimmed her light how much better she's doing. 1989 tries to befriend midnights but is often met with a gloomy, snarky response, sometimes with a little trauma dump mixed in, and the only way she knows how to respond to this is by trying to make something positive out of it. but midnights likes to fester and wallow, she views her sadness as a blanket, like armour, and 1989s vulnerability unsettles her. midnights has tried to level with 1989 but gets overwhelmed by the conversation, both because of the volume and the overall tone. it's not entirely happy go lucky, but it's altogether too lighthearted for midnight's personal taste. they don't hate each other by any means, but no matter how hard they try 1989 and midnights just can't seem to get on.

[blueskittlesart]

deeply refreshing to see someone critical of Swift who also like, genuinely likes her. Like i'm neutral to positive on her, but the online discourse has been absolutely rancid. flipping between "Taylor Swift has never done anything wrong ever and she's a fucking genius" and "Taylor Swift is the worst lyricist of all time and also a bad person" is exhausting, so thank you for like. nuance or something lmao

not to make it serious for a sec but i genuinely think that being able to like things that are bad is really important. like I think that it's an important skill to be able to look at something and see what you personally enjoy about it and then take a step back and acknowledge that objectively it's flawed. and to also be able to acknowledge that liking something isn't necessarily an identity or a moral stance. and i think that fandom space in general could really benefit from more people taking the time to learn how to do that. it's okay to like things that are bad

[thinkingthingsthrough]

she really is the bravest soldier bc i don’t know how someone could a. release something so vulnerable and then b. go sing in front of thousands that same evening

[rinskazuu]

tell me that you're still mine ⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

synopsis. ꨄ︎ the jjk men realized what they said to you was colossally messed up and tries to apologize

characters. ꨄ︎ fem!reader x gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, and sukuna (separate)

cw. ꨄ︎ angst, hurt/no comfort, swearing, pet names, the jjk men basically begging you to take them back, reader getting on their ass for the disrespect

notes. ꨄ︎ i'm most likely going to make this a series since u guys really liked the reader standing up for herself, and the groveling.

♪ song used. afterglow by taylor swift

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5/finale

end notes. ꨄ︎ u guys went crazy in p1

want to join my taglist? all that's required is for u to let me know in the comments! WARNING: i do post for different fandoms

tags. ꨄ︎ @tanchosanke @shokosbunny @hikaakox @luchiet @meosq @k4romis @totallygyomeiswife @starlightanyaaa @kiyooomii @artist1936 @moncher-ire @deaf-yuri-lover93 @mellsfern @justbelljust @my-anime-garden

reblogs, comments, and likes are all appreciated! <3

jjk masterlist | general masterlist

[hemmingsleclerc]

Scandal!┃CL16-MV1

I just want to say I love w all my heart charlotte so I'm not trying to hate on her, she looks very friendly but I just used her for her pics with charles

Also I had this idea on kylie and timmy's ''relationship rules rumours'' she put on him, poor timmy😭😭

instagram

f1_gossip

Liked by 183,573 others

f1_gossip According to reports, there is drama in the paddock! It all started when rumors came out of testimonies close to the couple where Aurora (Charles' new girlfriend) has imposed ''rules'' in her relationship with the driver!

"First, Aurora wanted him to cut ties with all of his exes, especially with the female driver, with whom he is still very close", Let's remember that Leclerc and Y/LN dated for almost 3 and a half years but they separated and they remained on friendly terms, before this they had been friends since childhood and the model ''did not like that'', they tell us.

comments

username girl what the fuck??

username stop, pls you're literally a ''model'' bc your mommy knew people and got u a job, on the other hand, Y/N has trained her entire life for that sport and she is super talented and has achieved all that by herself, stop embarrassing yourself.

username IF SHE MAKES SURE WE NO LONGER HAVE MOMENTS BETWEEN CHARLES AND Y/N, SHE WON'T LIVE TO TELL ABOUT IT FRRRR

ynln

Liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 1,845,295 others

ynln Made some great memories in Miami, had dinner w friends, and podium celebration this weekend, see u on Imola <3

lewishamilton fun night!

username I miss charles' comments on her posts 😭

maxverstappen1 🤘!!!

landonorris why wasn't I invited?

ynln bc I hate u

landonorris lol wth? I literally apologized 5 times for laughing at your pic,pls :(

redbullracing 👏👏

charles_leclerc

Liked by scuderiaferrari, aurora.official, and 1,642,795 others

charles_leclerc A little bit of blue and leo 😘👑Miami, thank you

aurora.official SO PROUD OF YOU BABY!!!😍😍

username girl okey we got it, now stop.pls

username PLS- THE WAY HE CROPPED HER FROM THE PHOTOS 🤣🤣🤣

scuderiaferrari blue suits you 🩵

username you look so good on blue cha 😭💗

cha_yn

Liked by 843,537 others

cha_yn I miss my parents, pls they were so in love 😭😭💔

username the way charlie looked at her

username my man was so deeply in love....

username she used to shine more when she was with him :(

twitter

comments

username Ok max having a crush on yn wasn't on my bingo card this year

username ok but what a great and hot couple they would both be

username I SEE IT 👀

rebullracing

Liked by ynln, maxverstappen1, and 739,539 others

redbullracing P1 and P2!!! What an amazing race for our team, very proud of max and yn!

ynln ❤️‍🩹

maxverstappen yes baby!

username did anyone saw charles' face when yn and max celebrated together??? no?? okey

f1_gossip

Liked by 429,683 others

f1_gossip Apparently after the great victory of both Redbulls, both went out to celebrate at a bar and sources claim that both were "very comfortable around each other", what do we think of this?

username nooo, I was still hoping charles and yn came back :(

username I'm here for their reputation era

username Idk if I want to be yn or max

aurora.official

Liked by charles_leclerc, herbestfriend and 284,626 others

aurora.official My baby got P3!! I'm so proud of him❤️❤️

username girl,do you at least know something about the sport?

aurora.official duh

username :/

maxverstappen1 has posted a story!

caption: yn send me this pic earlier today and thought I needed to show u, do we look alike?

charles_leclerc has posted a story!

music: I bet you think about me-Taylor Swift

twitter

f1_gossip

Liked by 947,594 others

f1_gossip What the hell happened between these two?? In the first practice of the weekend both drivers fought! According to some fans who came today, Charles approached Max furiously while he was yelling at him and Max wasn't far behind! What could have happened between these two?

username STOP WHAT IF IT'S FOR YN!!?!??!?!

username WHAT IS HAPPENING

username what the fuck 😭😭😭

Part2

[iwanderthroughthesenights]

Something that stood out to me a lot from this album is the intentional de-personalization of extremely personal feelings and stories. She seems to have decided for this project that in order to be free to be completely honest in her art (which tbf she always has been but never as much as this album), she needs to visualize herself, and thus her stories, as a third party, an external entity on which she's conducting a post-mortem examination. Her 2016 self and the hate train she suffered after Snakegate is reimagined as Cassandra, a character from Greek mythology who had visions in her dreams but no one believed her and instead she was punished. Her anxiety of holding her lover's career back is instead described as The Albatross, this girl who everyone has been warned to stay away from bc she causes problems and is a liability. Her sweet, innocent childhood self is depicted as a robin, a feisty little bird full of life, dreams, and potential who has yet no clue of the cruelty of the world.

Consequently, the characters in her life are, too, bestowed upon fictional characters from stories that have been told before and/or are familiar in some way to the listener (aIMee the girl from this allegorical high school which is actually Kim Kardashian, Peter the boy who never grew up and stayed forever in Neverland who actually is her long-term ex partner, both her and her lover's separate romantic involvements imagined as Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus, her real life therapist referred to as The Professor etc). By using the representation of well-known characters from widely popular stories and myths with names and all, she creates an even deeper line of emotional connection with the listener. Then, the 4th wall is delightfully broken in Clara Bow, where she refers to Clara Bow and Stevie Nicks as the inherent precedents to Taylor Swift. But what's even more brilliant about this is that in this way, she is making Taylor Swift into a character in and of itself. She is actually attempting to externalize Taylor Swift from Taylor the real-life woman. By narrating her stories through tangible entities presented as completely external to herself, she is inhibited by the safety of this fictional/allegorical lense through which she's allowing her stories to be consumed, and as a result, she has unlimited freedom to be more personal than she has ever been in her art before.

[cherryheairt]

Dragon Dreamer pt. III

tags: @beebeechaos

Daenys avoiding her problems per usual

all feedback appreciated <3, I'm unsure how I want to write this longterm, bc the two will have to separate after the wall scene and idk if people would want chapters with just Daenys and no cregan lol

also appearently cregan's actor tom taylor has heterochromia and i think green/blue eyes but for the life of my i cannot find a clear pic of it </3

Daenys woke from her distant dreams only after the sun had risen. While still snowing and freezing outside, Morningstar had done well to warm the pair under her protective wing.

Cregan sat vigil all throughout the night, no complaints coming from the young lord as he did. Protecting the princess was simply a part of his many duties, he mused to himself sometime in the night while she whispered.

She blinked a few times, eyes heavy and body nearly numb. Though warm, she was still only clothed in house slippers and her night dress. A weight around her caught her attention, knowing that Morningstar couldn't wrap herself around Daenys like that.

"You awake, Princess?" A soft voice asked beside her.

Tilting her head up and squinting, "Cregan?" She whispered, voice horse from speaking all night.

"Good morrow, my lady," was all he said, that secret smile of his plastered on his face. She didn't know how to feel. A million things rushed to her mind; shame, humilation, frustration-

He interrupted her thoughts, shuffling to a crouch from his sitting position. Cregan offered her a hand, which she took without thinking. Leading them both out from under Morningstar, Cregan bowed his head respectfully to the she-dragon.

"She allowed you to come near us?" Daenys asked, in awe.

"Aye, I don't know why, exactly. I'm grateful for it, so I will not question a blessing." He told Daenys, reaching down to grab his sword that had been sitting on the snowbank for hours and shouldering it.

"Shall we break our fast, or would you like to sleep?" He turned to her, attentive grey eyes finding her violet ones.

Biting her cheek, she waited for the other shoe to drop. When would he demand answers from their night? Banish her from his house forever and ridding himself of the Velaryon girl.

"You should sleep, Lord Stark. I have kept you from it all night." She decided, looking at the tired expression pulling at his handsome face.

"Sleep often evades me with my duties, this is only another one. I would never sleep again if my Princess asked it of me." He told her, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "The day is new. Will you break fast with me?"

Daenys followed the lord into the dining hall. It was more active than the previous night, bustling with the activity of the Keep's servants. It only took a minute of sitting before their breakfast was in front of them, some light bread and oatmeal. Daenys greedily drank the cold water provided for her, the relief for her throat that had been burning the whole way to the Keep.

Cregan watched the display for a moment, smiling to himself before politely focusing on his food, not watching her pick at her breakfast like the previous night. "Do you want anything else? If you don't like the food, just tell me. No one will take offense, as long as you're fed."

"This is good." Daenys answered shortly. She took small bites of the oatmeal, pulling parts of the bread to slowly chew. She felt like her body was going through the motions completely on its own, her brain firing in a million different directions yet going nowhere at all.

"..Princess?" Cregan asked again, stirring her.

He had been talking for a while, she thought. Daenys hummed, gesturing for him to continue. His meal was done already, how much time had passed?

"I said I would like to take you to Castle Black, if you would allow me."

"The Wall?" Daenys furrowed her brow, placing her spoon into the half-full bowl.

"It would be a two week trip on horseback, and you can see what your predecessors witnessed all those years ago. A reminder of what the North protects the realm from."

In simple terms, he wanted to convince her to take the least amount of men to arms as possible. She was not dull. Perhaps he thought she was, just like the court men. He was talking like a Southerner, now. All hidden meanings and pretty half-truths. Disappointing, truly, Daenys liked the straightforward Stark better.

"I would not oppose a trip to see the Wall. It would be much faster on Morningstar, but I'm sure your council would oppose their lord doing such a thing." She said wryly. Daenys didn't want to become curt with the kind lord, but her displeasure with his words made itself clear in her tone

He grimaced slightly before straightening up, bowing his head politely. "I have some matters to attend to before we depart. I will have some things packed for you. For now, get some rest, we'll leave in the afternoon." He left quickly, and it was then that she noticed his fur coat was missing. She could make out his body shape now, no longer hidden and cloaked by the massive fur. When had he left them?

The weight on her own shoulders as she stood solved that question for her. The familiar brown furs surrounded her like a blanket, warm yet drowning. Was it bear? Or even wolf? Daenys wasn't sure, but her heart beated harder knowing that he had sat with her all night, keeping her safe and warm despite knowing her dragon was perfectly capable.

Daenys settled into her chambers, forgoing slipping under the furs already on her bed in exchange for the fur Cregan had provided her. It smelled like him, a deep wood and iron scent that might have been too strong and unfitting on anyone but the Warden himself. The comfort soothed her to sleep quicker than she had in many moons.

🗡

Strong hands guided Daenys through the courtyard of the Red Keep. Ser Harwin Strong, her mother's sworn protector, had become more of a protector for herself these past few moons.

When the nightmares started, the Red Keep was put ill at ease with the little girl, avoiding her like the plague. While most took after Queen Alicent, avoiding her and gossiping about how the girl must be a witch, condemning people to horrible fates with her predictions, the bolder ones like her uncle Aegon had done the opposite.

Harassments, taunts, planting some of Helena's bugs into her bed, even getting physical when no one was looking. Who would believe the mad girl besides her own mother? The prince, of course, never received any reprimanding or punishment. He always got away with everything, per usual. He had the Queen herself in his corner, who defended his vile behavior even when multiple servant girls came sobbing to the Queen's chambers.

Rhaenyra couldn't bare to watch her only daughter be so tormented, especially by her own family. She instructed Harwin to keep a close eye on her, as her escort and guardian around the keep. He had no qualms with this, of course. The girl was beloved by him and Rhaenyra deeply, though this coddling did not go unnoticed by the royal family.

Daenys' one credit as a child was her silver hair and purple hues, an image of her mother. Her brothers after her were not so lucky, born brown-eyed and brown-haired. Ser Harwin was said to be the sire of Rhaenyra's army of dragon-riding bastards, to the obliviousness of Daenys.

When she grew older, she realized that Alicent was right in that one thing. Harwin Strong undoubtedly fathered the boys. She was unclear about her own father, but Harwin's affections for her never differed from her brothers.

She found herself not minding. Ser Laenor claimed the children as his own and loved her mother as a dear companion. But Harwin's love for Rhaenyra was different than Laenor's. She saw the look in his eyes as he gazed upon the heir, filled with devotion and love unmatched by any other wed couple in the keep. Daenys had only seen such a love displayed by them. Even long after Harwin's death, when Rhaenyra remarried her uncle Daemon, Daenys never saw that look in another man's eyes.

Daemon's love was passionate but possessive. It scared Daenys slightly, but she was happy so long as her mother was safe.

This day, Daenys wished to watch her uncles and brothers training in the yard. Ser Criston Cole usually overlooked the boys' training, leaving much to be desired in terms of favoritism. Much like his Queen, Criston despised the bastard boys. Though the four trained together, Rhaenyra's sons usually only watched as Aegon and Aemond practiced with their wooden swords.

Harwin left Daenys at the steps after a gentle ruffle of her loose hair, where she quietly sat and observed. Glancing at a bench overseeing the yard, Daenys spotted King Viserys also overlooking the morning training.

Harwin spoke a few words to Ser Criston for a moment, inaudible to Daenys but clearly pissing the Dornish knight off. Cole intructed that the eldest boys be placed against each other, though it was unfair.

Harwin's protests were thus ignored by the kingsguard, Daenys perking in her seat to watch Aegon and Jace spar. Quite a poor match, seeing their age and skill difference.

Aegon easily beat Jace, knocking the sword from his hand but not giving his opponent any mercy, still stepping forward to attack the young boy.

Harwin grabbed Aegon in a firm hold, tossing him away from Jacaerys. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" Aegon screeched like a banshee, never being put in his place like that before. Spoiled brat.

Harwin scolded Cole, ignoring the eldest prince intentionally. After lifting Jace from the floor, Harwin glanced over the boy.

"Are you alright?"

Embarrassed, Jace only nodded with flushed cheeks and dusted himself off. "Thank you, Ser." He mumbled.

But Cole did not leave the matter, baiting the older knight. "You forget yourself, that is the prince." He said, a smirk on his tanned face.

"Is that what you teach, Cole? Cruelty." Harwin spat back, picking up the wooden swords from the dirt.

"Your interest in the princeling's training is quite unusual. Most men would only have that kind of devotion toward a cousin. Or a brother." He smiled brighter, "or a son."

Without skipping a beat, Harwin strong turned and swung at Cole's smug face. Again, and again until the man was on the floor and not fighting back.

Daenys stood and gasped, calling out towards her protector. "Ser Harwin!" she rushed forward, being stopped only by Jace and Luke, who could also only watch.

Harwin was dragged off of Cole, still spitting insults at the younger whilst the blood-covered man laughed as if he had won.

Aegon laughed loudly, now the loudest sound in the yard as both knights were escorted inside.

"Seems like the Strong bastards won't be so protected anymore." He snickered with Aemond at his side, loud enough for only the three to hear. Viserys took his leave, too, most likely to go settle the fight.

"We're not bastards!" Jacaerys yelled at him. Daenys and Lucerys were quiet behind him. Jace, though a year younger than Daenys, had taken the mantle of the protective one of the siblinge ever since Daenys had started getting shunned.

She was grateful for it, despite the nagging guilt she had for never defending herself or her little brothers.

"Just look at yourself, Lord Strong. Brown hair...pale skin..brown eyes. Perhaps Rhaenyra isn't your mother, either." Aegon said, earning a half-hearted laugh from Aemond beside him.

Ever the quiet of the two, Aemond faced his own bullying from Aegon and Daenys' brothers for being the only one of them to not claim a dragon. Typically, this made him stay out of any spats between Rhaenyra's children and Aegon, out of fear that he would be the next target.

Surprisingly, he even left Daenys alone. He spent much time with Helena, just as she did. They happened to spend a lot of time together in their youth because of their mutual bond, but they never gained a bond between themselves.

"You take that back!" Jace demanded, stepping foward and shoving at Aegon's chest. Being so much taller than Jacaerys, Aegon barely stepped back, only growing more amused.

"Jace.." Daenys urged behind him, tugging at his armor. "Let's go inside, I want to check on Ser Harwin."

Aegon turned to her now, "Its a mystery who your father might be. Ser Strong, Prince Daemon, Ser Laenor. I've even heard rumor of Rhaenyra having a tryst with Criston Cole at one time. Perhaps the cunt herself doesn't even know who your-" Aegon was abruptly cut off with a punch to his face so hard that he was sent to the floor. Shocked, he looked up expecting Jacaerys to have been the offender, but instead met the furious face of Daenys Velaryon. She didn't give him time to get up, punching and scratching at his pink face.

The other three stood stunned for a few moments, unsure if they wanted to let her continue or pry her off. Even Aemond stifled a laugh with a hand, turning away so Aegon couldn't notice.

Eventually Aegon grew out of his shock, easily throwing the younger girl off of him by her shoulders. Wiping his face, he stood and snarled down at Daenys, lifting a foot to kick at her while she was down, but was stopped and tackled by her two brothers. Now, Aemond choose to defend his older brother against the boys, albeit slightly reluctantly. The Pink Dread prank still heavily weighed on his mind every day.

Guards noticed at this point that the squabble of princes and the princess was no mere play fight, punches and kicks being thrown this way and that. The four of them seperated by forceful hands, given no time to walk themselves as they were dragged inside.

"Keep my mothers name out of your dirty mouth, līve!" She screamed behind her shoulder at the boy, who seemed shocked at the insult coming from her mouth. Jace and Luke, not versed in High Valyrion yet, didn't react, although she heard a snicker from Aemond as he was taken to Viserys with Aegon.

The other three were taken directly to Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra, quietly resting on her settee with little Joffrey coddled up in her arms, was surprised to see all three of her eldest children in such a state. She stood immediately, "what happened?" She asked the guards, handing Joff to the wet nurse and gingerly cradling her children's bruised faces.

"The princess and princes got into an altercation in the yard. Ser Harwin and Cole have also been sent to the King for their actions." One said, before being dismissed by Rhaenyra.

"I want the truth of it, now." She sternly told them, stress furrowing her brows.

"Ser Harwin beat up Cole." Luke said first, giving no context.

"Because Cole called us bastards." Jace continued, clearing it.

Rhaenyra sighed, putting a hand over her stomach, which Daenys noticed became a habit during her pregnancies as a way to calm herself.

"If Harwin is the one who fought Cole, why are you three all bruised up?"

Daenys avoided her eyes, earning a lifted brow from her mother. Jace stepped in to help, "Aegon started it! He called you.." He seemed to pause now too, not wanting to shame his mother with Aegon's vileness.

The three shared glanced between themselves, not guilty for fighting Aegon but guilty for not defending their mother's honor better. "He called you a cunt. And implied dishonorable actions." Daenys told her, biting her cheek hard after. Her face hurt.

Rhaenyra only sighed, bringing her children to her side to embrace them all. She breathed in to start a surely long speech, but Harwin entering the room disrupted that plan. Daenys was grateful for it.

He closed the chamber doors behind himself, gold Lord Commander's cloak was no longer wrapped over his shoulders. His armor was also off, as if he was taking a leisure day.

"Harwin?" Rhaenyra spoke, confused as to why he was visiting in such a state.

"I am being assigned back to Harrenhall with my father. The King has let me go from my time as Lord Commander." Was his answer. Pretty words for 'fired' from his duty. Just for defending the princes and their mother.

Rhaenyra gasped, hand bringing itself once again to hover over her stomach. "For what offence?" She demanded. Her eyes were glossy with tears, but she could not let herself cry. Princesses do not cry over losing their guards.

Daenys knew then, that they were not merely protector and princess. They were husband and wife, in all but name. Harwin looked down at Rhaenyra with all the softness in the realm. "It is my own fault, I lost my temper." The two stood to the side for a minute, whispering amonst themselves. Daenys respectfully looked away, finding Jace staring them down intensely.

Harwin held Rhaenyra's face for only a moment, tender and bittersweet as they couldn't do anything more to say their goodbyes.

He turned to the children, "Luke, Jace. Keep up with your training, do not let Cole or the princes bully you out from improving. You will be fine knights." He smiled at them proudly, petting each of their heads and turning to Daenys.

Tears welled in her eyes, falling down her cheeks freely. She was not as strong as her mother, unable to control her feelings. "Ser.." She sobbed, barreling into his chest and burying her face into the tunic's material. Gently he held her, soothing her hair down from the mess it had became in the yard. "Don't fret, my dear girl. I will not be gone forever."

The smell of fire invaded her senses as he said that, a suffocating feeling enveloping her as she continued to cry. "I don't want you to leave at all." She told him.

"He must, we cannot change the will of the king." Rhaenyra said from behind her, rubbing her back soothingly. Harwin and Rhaenyra shared another heavy look, both knowing how much Daenys relied on Harwin.

Harwin had to break the princess off of him eventually, pressing a tender kiss to her temple as he did. "I will be a stranger when we meet again.' He told Rhaenyra, who only nodded and smiled solemnly at him.

Harwin Strong took his leave from the Red Keep that day, and never returned to his family.

Jace watched the man walk away, down the hall. "Is Harwin Strong my father?" He asked Rhaenyra stiffly. "Are we bastards?"

Rhaenyra swiftly looked around for any onlookers, relieved to find none. "You are Targaryens. That's what matters," she whispered firmly.

Daenys only stared at the space Harwin had once been, wishing things could stay the same forever.

"I am going to bed," she told her mother.

She wished she had not.

🗡

"My Lady?" The maid from yesterday evening woke Daenys from her deep sleep. Groggily she sat up, stretching out her stiff muscles. The cold affected her more than she thought. "Lord Stark is ready to depart. We have packed all the things you will need for the trip, I just need to get you ready."

Daenys was too tired to talk, only nodding along and allowing the older maid to dress her and do her hair. Pulled in a simple half-up braid, Daenys groaned at the thought of having to do her own braids while in the wilderness. The dress she was put in was a light blue, lined with white fur, softer than any she had felt before.

"All done, princess. He's waiting in the hall for you." She patted Daenys' shoulder in a motherly way, sending the girl off to the dining hall.

Daenys grabbed his fur coat before leaving, finding him standing in front of the hearth silently. He perked up when he spotted her, smiling almost instinctively. "Princess," he nodded. "Ready to leave?"

It was only then that she noticed a giant wolf at his feet, staring at her with bright blue eyes, contasting its brown fur. A direwolf, it must be. Tamed by the Stark? Their sigil seemed to ring true, just like the Targaryen's.

"As I'll ever be." She answered evenly, slightly looking forward to the trip. She'd never been on such a journey, only ever riding horseback for short distances and never once staying outside for more than a night. It would be interesting. "And who's this?"

"Dusk. He mostly stays outside, but I figured we could use his protection on our travels." Cregan gestured to the wolf. He seemed wild in most ways, Daenys would guess that he was when he was on his own, but Cregan being bonded to him and accustoming the animal to human domestication. Quite like the Targaryens and their dragons.

"I'm happy to have him, as long as he can get along with Morningstar." She smiled.

Hopefully she can find common ground with Lord Stark, gaining more men for the Queen.

Cregan offers Daenys his arm, which she takes as he guides her to their readied horses. "I picked out this one for you. He's a young stud, but he reminded me of Morningstar." Daenys felt her heart skip a beat when he said that, the thoughtfulness of the aftion making her smile brightly. She released his arm to pet the horse's snow-white face, greeting it.

"Thank you, my lord. He's beautiful." She said.

"Of course, princess." He kept his eyes on her a moment longer, before offering his hand again to help her mount. After adjusting herself on the saddle, Cregan mounted his own horse, a pretty chestnut mare.

Winterfell gave the two a cheerful goodbye parting, Daenys had to resist rolling her eyes. The same commonfolk who had gossiped about her yesterday were eagerly waving hankerchiefs at her and wishing their beloved princess well.

Cregan seemed amused by her stiff jaw as they walked past the gates. "Do you know what the folk call you?" He asked.

"I could think of a hundred names I've been called. None of them pleasent." She replied, eyeing him.

Above them, Morningstar glided gleefully, happy to be traveling again although she didn't know the destination.

Chuckling, he shook his head. "The Dragon Dreamer."

Stunned, she turns to look straight at him, finding his attention fully on her still.

"I..don't see why." She blushed. Never before had her visions been painted in a positive light of any kind.

"Northerners aren't so out of tune with the magic of this realm, as other kingdoms are. Have you ever heard of wargs?"

"A few times, in fairytales." She sniffed.

He nodded, "do you not believe in them?"

"Anything could be true. In a world where I ride a dragon, who am I to deny other types of magic?" She offered.

"Aye. My ancestors have dealt with magic since the first men. Stuff you wouldn't believe, out beyond the wall."

"What's beyond the wall?"

"Death."

🗡

alicent hightower you ARE the father

Līve - whore

[b14augrana]

The Death Of You

The pursuit to being the greatest of all time comes above everything, including your health

Barça Femení x reader

masterlist

Warnings: slight overshadowing of injury

A/N: edited this author’s note way too many times buttttttt im not making a pt 2 of this because its just a silly little blurb that’s been rotting in my drafts and thats i wanna say okay thanks enjooooyyyyy

“When you think of passion, you think of someone that does anything for their club, and that’s (Y/N). The blaugrana is everything to her, and it is a part of her. She puts the badge before herself, and all she emits, all they admire of her, everything she represents, is Barça.

(Y/N) is Barça, Barça is (Y/N)” — Mapi León.

For Barça, you would give your life. You have put your body on the line and taken the hits until your skin turns the colours of the jersey you truly believe you’ll die in.

It’s what your mother says will eventually kill you. Going down with the jersey, for the jersey, your love for the greatest club in the world coming before all. It’s proof, almost, that Barcelona is so great, it’s worth dying for.

But, the funny thing is, you hadn’t loved living in Barcelona growing up. In fact, you hated everything about it. It felt like an asylum or some sort of confinement where the only things left to stare at are the four walls you’re enclosed by, except, those four walls were littered with posters of men you constantly watched play at the stadium of your dreams, and the only thing that made staring at those four walls so much of a punishment is the fact you were a girl and there was no such thing as a woman footballer.

You had shitty friends to remind you of that every single time they caught you stopping in the street (though you don’t even stop, your foot just drags along the ground a bit slower than usual) just to take a closer look at a mural of some Barça legend.

You hated living in Barcelona because you had nobody on your side that believed there was a place for you or any other woman behind the huge, towering walls of Camp Nou.

Barcelona went from being an asylum to a garden that was nurtured with every match played and goal scored, a title or medal sprouting from the buds of every stem and bush.

You would die for Barcelona. Hell was worth living through, for Barcelona, just to feel whatever emotion devoured you when you step out to a full stadium in the famous blue and garnet.

You want to be the best. That comes above everything — there is no point in devoting your life to something if you’re not going to be the best at it, and you had given more than what was required for Barça.

What you also want is to create a legacy not only for yourself, but the club as well, one title at a time. A legacy associated with winning, and being the greatest of all time. The last thing you need to implement this reputation? The Champions League.

You take in the stadium, the raindrop-covered grass, the noise. That headache inducing noise, caused by the record attendance in the stadium. The headache inducing noise that, when you focus on it, begins to become coherent and recognisable as the Barcelona anthem. With every step closer to the pitch, you find it harder to pay attention to anything around you, and the anxiety in your stomach is more apparent than ever before.

You kill the period of time between exiting the tunnel and finding your place on the field by warming up (or in other words, doing whatever you can to shake the nerves). You step out onto the pitch and feel the pinch of the cold wind which, for some reason, elicits an epiphany; the only thing separating you and that trophy is these 90 minutes.

Those 90 minutes drag on. Pass after pass, unsuccessful dribble after unsuccessful dribble, you’re not getting any closer to the goal but you can’t feel disheartened or unmotivated because all you have is 90 minutes. Everything can change in 90 minutes.

Everything does change. You don’t know how it happened, or who passed you the ball, or whether you even called for it, but you had it and you were moving quickly with it. Managing to glide past Renard, leaving her behind you to grapple at your jersey hopelessly, you find yourself up against Endler on your own.

Although there are 20 other players on the pitch, discarded behind you, it feels like it’s just you and Endler in an empty stadium. The goal looks bigger than it should be as your foot swings down onto the ball, and the raucous noise of the stadium can only intensify when the ball just misses the tip of Endler’s glove and meets the back of the net.

It is hard to ignore the unfamiliar discomfort in your knee, but you do it anyways. You run off to celebrate and don’t pay it another thought. You don’t mention it to anyone amidst the celebrations because how could you possibly ruin this moment, and it’s basically gone by the time you return to the midfield.

For a moment, there's hope. Your goal sparks new light into the eyes of your teammates. One golden boot shines brighter than a golden glove and there's a connection between your foot and the ball that just makes sense, and it's put away in the back of the net.

But when the ball starts rolling again and it meets the feet of Van de Donk, you realise 1 goal isn't enough.

No, it's like hanging off the edge of a cliff, fingers clawing for whatever jagged edge of a rock they can reach, clinging onto the little thing you have keeping you up. But with every minute, every intercepted pass, missed or deflected shots, the cliffside is crumbling.

Lyon is an exceptional team. That's why they manage to put one past Sandra, and you're back to square one. Your mind, drunk on pride, pushes you to do more, to give more. Your body feels like it can't possibly give anything more, yet you still run up and down the pitch without slowing down once and you throw yourself at the ball every time you find the opportunity.

It’s what your mother says will eventually kill you.

So it does, internally. When the final whistle pierces your ears and the minority of Lyon fans in the crowd burst into cheers, it kills you, because you would die for this club and it hurts to come so close but fall short.

The winning legacy you were so close to completing, was now tainted by your failure to actually win.

Your knee also hurts. A lot.

You lie down on the pitch, its soggy and uneven surface being the only comfort you have in this place where everywhere you look, there are reminders that you’re not good enough. The more you think about all the sacrifices and things you put on the line for this title, you wonder, ‘When’s it gonna be my turn?’

Disappointed fans filing out of the exits, your teammates surrounding you trying to hold in their tears, the dancing and celebrating from Lyon.

The sound of sniffles can be heard from beside you, and you roll over to see Mapi, her eyes bloodshot and her cheeks dusted with patches of red.

As you line up to receive your medal, you don’t even want to wear it. Silver will never be better than gold, there’s nothing good about being second to best, being outperformed is nothing to be proud of. But you still keep the medal on.

You hang your head and look away from the winner’s stage, because your heart is too sore to take in the fact that would’ve, could’ve, should’ve been you.

‘When’s it gonna be my turn?’

[ilovemilestellersmoustache]

I’ll Be Yours For The Weekend

WC: 2K

Summary: Highschool sweethearts Connor and Y/n reunite in their hometown for thanksgiving where their breakup after graduation happened and their reaction to seeing each other was to call each other babe for the weekend inevitably creating two different f reactions when returning to their separate lives across the country.

Warnings: None but ANGSTY ANGST ANGST

Connor Bedard stepped off the plane, the cold autumn air of Canada wrapping around him like an old, familiar blanket. It felt surreal to be back in the hometown that had shaped so much of who he was, yet everything felt heavier than he remembered. Months had passed since he was drafted by the Chicago Blackhawks, and now he stood on the cusp of a new life—one filled with expectations, pressure, and a dream he had long chased. But despite the excitement, an emptiness gnawed at him.

His thoughts drifted to Y/N, the girl he had loved for three years. The one who had stood by him through countless late-night practices, who had cheered him on from the stands, and whose laughter had filled his world with joy. Breaking up before the draft had been a decision they both had agonized over, but the weight of their separate futures had felt insurmountable. Now, as he drove through familiar streets, he couldn’t escape the memories. The school they attended together, the coffee shop where they spent endless afternoons, the park where they shared secrets, her parents house—it all felt achingly close yet impossibly distant.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, Y/N stared out the window of her Los Angeles dorm. The palm trees swayed lazily in the warm breeze, but she felt frozen in time. She had thrown herself into her studies, trying to push the aside the remaining gaping void Connor had left behind. She followed his journey from afar through screens, proud yet heartbroken, knowing their love was now just a bittersweet memory. Thanksgiving was approaching, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed to go home, despite the ache that came with it.

When she arrived back in their hometown, Y/N felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia wash over her. Every corner of the town whispered Connor’s name, from the diner they had frequented to the bench where they’d carved their initials. It felt like a time capsule, preserving their shared moments, while the reality of their separation weighed heavily on her heart.

The day before Thanksgiving, she found herself at the local grocery store, running errands her mother sent her to do before the feast. The store buzzed with activity, filled with the sounds of laughter and chatter, but Y/N felt isolated, her mind still wandering back to Connor. Suddenly, as she turned a corner, she collided with someone. The familiar voice broke through her thoughts.

“Y/N?”

Time stood still as she looked up into Connor’s eyes. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring them back together. They both wore expressions of shock, disbelief washing over them like a tidal wave.

“Connor-” she managed to breathe, a mix of surprise and warmth flooding her heart.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here,” he said, a smile breaking through the initial surprise.

They stood in the aisle, surrounded by shelves filled with holiday treats, but all they could see was each other. After a brief moment of hesitation, they fell into an easy conversation, sharing updates about their lives. The chemistry between them felt electric, as if no time had passed since their last encounter.

“Do you remember that time we got lost on our way to the lake?” Connor asked, laughter bubbling up from somewhere deep inside her.

“Of course! We ended up at that diner and ordered way too many fries,” Y/N replied, her smile genuine, igniting memories that warmed her heart.

As they continued to talk, the hurt of their breakup began to fade, replaced by a sense of comfort and familiarity. It was as if the months apart had been nothing more than a fleeting dream. They spent nearly an hour wandering the aisles, the grocery store fading into the background as they rediscovered each other.

“Hey,” Y/N said softly, the words barely escaping her lips. “What if we drove around town this weekend? Like old times?”

“Like old times?” Connor replied, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Yeah,” she said, her heart racing at the prospect of reclaiming a piece of their past.

The next day, they met again, the air crisp and fresh as they set off in Connor’s car. As they drove through familiar roads, every turn brought a rush of memories—each place was a snapshot of their past, a reminder of the love they had shared. Connor played their favorite songs, and they sang along, the laughter spilling out of the windows and into the crisp autumn air.

The first stop was the park where they had spent countless afternoons. They parked and stepped out, taking a moment to breathe in the nostalgia. The leaves crunched under their feet as they walked along the path, the same path they had walked as teenagers, hand in hand.

“Remember when we used to come here every weekend after school and just sat on that swing set?” Y/N asked, pointing to the rusting swings in the distance.

Connor chuckled, “And that day you pushed me so hard I flew off!”

“Hey there was in no way that was my fault! You leaned over!” she teased, nudging him playfully.

They made their way to the swings, their laughter echoing through the park. Y/N settled onto one swing while Connor took the one beside her. They began to swing gently, the rhythmic motion stirring memories of simpler times.

“Do you ever think about us?” Y/N asked, her voice softening.

“Every day,” Connor admitted, his gaze fixed on the ground. “It’s hard not to. You were such a huge part of my life.”

“I miss you,” she confessed, the weight of her words hanging between them.

“I miss you too,” he replied, the honesty in his voice wrapping around her like a warm hug. “But what do we do about it?”

The question lingered in the air, unanswered. They swung in silence for a moment, each lost in their thoughts. The connection they shared felt as real as ever, yet the reality of their separate lives loomed large.

After leaving the park, they drove past their old high school. Connor slowed down, memories flooding back. “Can you believe we actually graduated?” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Yeah, and now look at us,” Y/N said with a hint of irony. “You’re an NHL player, and I’m… well, trying to figure out college.”

“Hey, you’re doing amazing,” he reassured her. “You’ve always been the smart one.”

As they reminisced, the hurt from their breakup felt like a distant memory. They were just two teenagers again, laughing and teasing one another. The conversation flowed easily, the comfort of their shared history creating a safe space to explore the unspoken tension.

Eventually, they found themselves at the local diner, a spot they had frequented during their high school years after discovering it instead of the lake. They settled into a booth, and as they browsed the menu, Connor glanced around, taking in the familiar sights.

“I can’t believe this place hasn’t changed at all,” he said, grinning. “Still serving the best milkshakes in town.”

Y/N laughed. “And the greasiest fries! Some things never change.”

They placed their orders and continued to chat, the conversation flowing seamlessly. With every laugh and shared memory, the walls they had built around themselves began to crumble. It felt natural, as if they were slipping back into their old rhythm.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said before,” Connor said suddenly, his tone shifting. “About driving around town. I mean, we’re here now. Why not make the most of it?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s do everything we used to do,” he proposed, excitement sparking in his eyes. “Let’s revisit all our favorite spots.”

“Haven’t we been basically doing that?” she asked, her heart racing at the thought.

“I guess, but I mean for the whole weekend. Let’s call this weekend ours… Please?” he said, a pleading grin spreading across his face.

She couldn’t help but smile back. “Okay, but I’m in charge of the playlist!”

They left the diner, laughter bubbling between them as they jumped back into the car. Connor cranked up the music, the familiar tunes flooding their senses, and for a moment, everything felt right.

They visited the arcade where they had spent many Friday nights, laughing over games and sharing fries. They drove down the streets where they had cruised in Connor’s old car, the wind whipping through their hair as they sang along to their favorite songs. Each stop brought a rush of emotions, a mix of happiness and melancholy that only deepened their connection.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, they found themselves back at the park. The air was cooler now, but the warmth between them was undeniable. They wandered to the same bench where they had spent countless afternoons, lost in conversation.

“I can’t believe how easy this feels,” Y/N said, leaning back against the bench, looking up at the sky.

“Yeah, it’s like no time has passed,” Connor agreed, his gaze drifting to her. “It’s just us again.”

“Do you think we could… I don’t know, make this work?” she asked cautiously, the vulnerability in her voice palpable.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” he replied, the seriousness in his tone cutting through the lightness of the moment. “I want to. But everything is different now. You’re in L.A., I’m in Chicago…”

“But what if we tried?” she urged, her heart racing at the thought of losing him again.

Connor took a deep breath, the weight of her words pressing down on him. “I don’t want to hurt you again. We’ve come so far.”

“I know,” she said softly, her heart aching.

“But we’re happy now. Can’t we just enjoy this?”

She looked at him, and for a moment, it felt like the world faded away. “Yeah, let’s just enjoy this.”

As the weekend unfolded, their connection deepened

As the weekend drew to a close, the once bright spark of excitement began to dim, leaving behind a lingering sense of melancholy. Y/N and Connor spent their final hours together in quiet reflection, driving through the small town that had witnessed their shared history. It had been a weekend filled with laughter and warmth, but the uncertainty about their future remained.

The day they had to say goodbye arrived too soon. Connor was scheduled to fly back to Chicago, and Y/N had a flight back to Los Angeles the next morning. They stood in the driveway of her house, the chill of the autumn air pressing in on them.

“This feels harder than I thought it would be,” Connor said, his voice low as he looked down at Y/N.

“I know,” she replied softly, wrapping her arms around herself, as if the cold wasn’t just from the air, but from the inevitable goodbye.

Connor reached out and took her hand. “We’ve always had something special. But with you in L.A. and me in Chicago… I don’t know if I can handle the distance. I don’t want to keep dragging this out just to end up hurting each other.”

Y/N nodded, though her heart twisted painfully. She knew what he was saying was logical, but the emotions they had shared over the weekend had reignited something in her she wasn’t ready to let go of.

“I get it, Connor. But I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “I wish we could try.”

His hand tightened around hers, his eyes softening with regret. “I do too. But we agreed to just enjoy the moment, right? And that’s what we did.”

She looked up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears, but she forced a smile. “Yeah, let’s leave it at that.”

They hugged for a long moment, neither one wanting to let go. But eventually, Connor pulled away, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N.”

“You too, Connor.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Back in Los Angeles, Y/N threw herself into her studies again. The first few days were tough—she found herself replaying every conversation, every moment she and Connor had shared. She kept telling herself that she had made peace with their goodbye, but the quiet moments between her busy schedule reminded her otherwise.

But as time passed, she started to heal. University life picked up pace, and she found herself surrounded by friends and new experiences. Slowly, the ache of their goodbye lessened.

Meanwhile, in Chicago, Connor felt the opposite. Life in the NHL had been his dream for as long as he could remember, and playing for the Blackhawks was everything he had worked for. But the high of being in the league didn’t fill the emptiness inside him. He found himself thinking about Y/N constantly—about how she had looked at him with such hope in her eyes that weekend, and how he had let her go. He had told himself it was the right thing to do, but each day, the weight of that decision felt heavier.

Despite the distance, they hadn’t completely severed their connection. A few weeks after their goodbye, Connor followed Y/N on social media again, and she followed him back. It was a small gesture, but one that kept them tethered. Small texts started to trickle in—wishing each other good luck during games, asking how school was going, commenting on random things they saw online. It was casual, almost like two old friends who had drifted apart but still cared about each other.

For Y/N, these texts became easier as the months passed. She no longer felt the pang of loss every time she saw Connor’s name pop up on her screen. She had started dating again, nothing serious, but enough to remind her that life went on. She was healing, slowly but surely.

But for Connor, each message was a reminder of what he had walked away from. His teammates noticed he wasn’t quite himself—he was playing well, but there was a distance in his demeanor. Every time he texted Y/N, a part of him wished he could say more. He missed her, missed the way she understood him, missed the way she made him laugh. The loneliness gnawed at him, growing more unbearable with each passing day.

One night, after a particularly tough game, Connor found himself scrolling through his messages with Y/N, rereading their short exchanges. He stared at the screen, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He wanted to reach out, to tell her he’d made a mistake. That he was willing to try long distance, that he didn’t care about the miles between them, that he’d wait for her—however long it took.

With a deep breath, Connor typed out a message: Hey, can we talk? I’ve been thinking a lot, and I miss you. I want us to try again, and I’m okay with long distance if you are. I just need you to know that I’ll wait for you.

Just as he was about to hit send, he hesitated. His thumb hovered over the send button, but something stopped him. Instead, he opened her Instagram, a habit he had picked up over the last few weeks. He scrolled through her recent posts, his heart aching as he saw her smiling, surrounded by friends, seemingly happy. And then he froze.

There was a new post—a picture of Y/N and a guy. They were sitting close together on a bench, the sun setting behind them, casting a warm glow over their faces. The guy had his arm around her, and though it wasn’t an overly intimate photo, the look in Y/N’s eyes as she smiled up at him said everything.

Connor’s stomach dropped. His hand clenched around his phone, his heart pounding in his chest. The words he had just typed out seemed suddenly foolish, pointless. She was moving on. She was happy. And he had no right to disrupt that, not after he had been the one to let her go.

Without another thought, he deleted the message, staring at the blank screen as the reality of his decision came crashing down on him.

Connor shut his phone off and leaned back on his couch, closing his eyes as regret washed over him. He had made a choice, and now he had to live with it. But in the back of his mind, the thought that maybe—just maybe—he had lost the one person who truly understood him, refused to go away.

[liyaauhr]

SBG RANDOM HEADCANONS 🎀🔥

— When Tyler first saw Ashlyn’s hair he had a mini HEART ATTACK and not because the girl had the audacity to just blindly used a KNIFE to cut all her hair off without even thinking but also because of how fugly and uneven it turned out to be. The following day he brought a pair of cutting sheers to the bus and fixed her hair up while scolding and rambling on at her like a pissed off mother in Spanish. Ashlyn was just confused because her Spanish weren’t sufficient to keep up with Tyler’s speed but she was smart enough to know everything Tyler was saying was probably to be repeated to Lily…but he also made a point of smacking her hand away every Ashlyn got impatient and tried doing it herself.

(She started paying more attention to Spanish classes after that).

— Taylor and Aiden are not trusted to do ANYTHING together by themselves. Tyler is the worst Aiden enabler ever, if he has a dumb idea she will try to talk it out of him for 2 minutes MAX and then give up and join him instead (if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em). This once lead to them destroying a whole supermarket aisle while trying ride down their trolleys as fast as possible and then the second incident ensued them getting lost for 3 hours at a theme park (the only reason the rest of the gang found them in the end because Aiden somehow managed to sneak into the theme parks control room and use the mic).

— More Taylor and Aiden (because not enough people talk about these two!!!): They’re banned from playing music in the car. Aiden plays the same songs repeatedly on full blast and Taylor's song choices always end up starting a fight.

— Out of all of the gang the ones who get the best grades are Tyler, Logan and Aiden in that order. Logan and Tyler actually try really hard in class which is why they usually get A’s but while the STEM side of Logan’s grades are shining, the English side? Not so much. He’s working on it though! Somehow Aiden gets As and Bs while paying 0 attention in class. Taylor usually gets Bs with the occasional A, Ben usually gets B’s and Ashlyn’s grades have been slipping because of all the stress in the phantom realm, she used to get Bs and As but now she’s been seeing a lot more Cs and even D’s.

— Tyler and Ashlyn get forced to hold hands every time they argue until they apologise. Takes a damn long time for that to happen because it’s Taylor and Ashlyn. Why not just stop holding hands, you ask? Turns out Taylor Hernandez can be a REAL BITCH sometimes.

— Ben is an observer, sometimes when the group hangs out and something interesting happens, he’d sketch it out on his notepad and finish it at home. He also has sketches of all his friends but doesn’t like to show anyone because he’s a perfectionist lol.

— Even though Aiden’s house is the biggest, it’s actually Ashlyn’s house they mainly hang around with because of one thing: her parents. The Banners ended up becoming second parents to literally all of the kids and actually enjoy having them around.

— Adding onto the previous headcanon, Ashlyn’s parents have little details of the kid’s memorised. Like Logan’s peanut allergy, the way the Hernandez twins always linger around to try and help out someway,

— Aiden and Ben have separate rooms but more often than not Aiden usually ends up having spontaneous sleepovers in Ben’s room. Ben doesn’t mind and enjoys the company and Aiden dislikes the memories associated with his room.

— Taylor loves Taylor Swift, Ashlyn hates her for it (if she has to hear love story one more time she will sell Taylor to a phantom).

— Every time they hang out at Aiden’s house Taylor somehow always gets lost.

— They all make a point to show up for eachothers’ personal events e.g Tyler’s baseball games, Ashlyn’s ballet performances, help out at Logan’s greenhouse etc.

— Tyler is a secret romcom lover.

— Logan and Aiden are the resident horror enthusiasts.

[roseyly]

𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 - 𝙻𝙷𝚂

Pairing: Older!Heeseung x Younger!reader genre: angst, stangers to friends to lovers to stangers again. Warnings: Smut, angst, hee being an asshole Synopsis: Y/N, an 18-year-old university student, was immersed in her studies until she met Heeseung, a confident 26-year-old. Their friendship quickly deepened, and Y/N found herself captivated by his kindness and charm. At first, the age difference didn’t matter, as their connection felt effortless. But over time, Heeseung grew more distant, and Y/N began to feel the weight of their age gap. She cherished their memories but wondered if their lives were too different to bridge. Could they rekindle their connection, or was it time to accept that their paths might lead them in separate directions? Note: This was inspired by All too well by Taylor swift.

—The start we tell

I was 18 when I first met Heeseung. He was 26, a graduate student at the prestigious university in our city. I was a freshman, wide-eyed and full of dreams. Our paths crossed at the library, a place I frequented to escape the noise and chaos of campus life. He was engrossed in a book, his face etched with concentration. I was drawn to him, his quiet intensity, the way he seemed so lost in his own world.

“May I sit here?” I asked, pointing to the empty seat next to him.

He looked up, his eyes widening slightly. “Sure,” he replied, his voice soft.

We started talking, and it was like we’d known each other forever. He was intelligent, witty, and kind. He had a way of making me feel seen and understood. Our conversations were endless, spanning from philosophy to pop culture. I was captivated by his mind, his passion for life.

“You’re really smart,” I told him one day after we had been discussing a particularly complex topic.

He smiled. “Thanks. You’re not too bad yourself."

One chilly afternoon, the library was quieter than usual. Heeseung suggested we grab some coffee from the campus café. As we walked side by side, the brisk air wrapped around us, and I couldn’t help but steal glances at him. The way he brushed his hair from his forehead, the spark in his eyes—it made my heart race.

“Do you think people are more interesting in books or in real life?” he asked as we settled into a corner of the café with our steaming mugs.

“Real life, definitely,” I replied, leaning forward. “Books are great, but nothing beats the unpredictability of a real conversation.”

Heeseung chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “You make a compelling argument.”

As we talked and laughed, I noticed the way his gaze lingered on me, a softness that made my heart flutter.

One evening, as we were leaving the library, a light drizzle began to fall. Heeseung instinctively held out his arm, offering me his jacket.

“Here, take this,” he said, wrapping it around my shoulders.

The fabric smelled like him—warm and comforting. I could feel his body heat radiating from it, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

“Thanks,” I murmured, glancing up at him.

He was looking at me, his expression a mix of concern and admiration. “I didn’t want you to get cold.”

Our eyes locked, and I felt a rush of warmth spread through me. It was then that I realized—I was falling for him.

One night, we found ourselves studying together in my dorm room. The stress of exams hung heavy in the air, but as we sat on the floor surrounded by books, something shifted between us. I leaned back against the wall, letting out a sigh.

“Why do you put so much pressure on yourself?” Heeseung asked, concern lacing his voice.

“I just want to do well,” I replied, trying to hide my insecurities.

He shifted closer, our shoulders brushing against each other. “You’re already doing great. Just remember to take care of yourself too.”

His words, simple yet profound, pierced through my worries. I turned to look at him, and in that moment, I saw a depth of understanding and care that made my heart swell.

“Thank you, Heeseung,” I whispered, feeling vulnerable.

He met my gaze, and for a heartbeat, I thought he might lean in and kiss me. The tension hung in the air, palpable and intoxicating. But instead, he smiled softly, and we returned to our studies, the moment lingering between us like an unfinished thought.

—The Confession

A few weeks later, we were watching the sunset from the rooftop of my dorm. The sky was painted in hues of orange and pink, and as I leaned against the railing, I felt a sense of peace wash over me. Heeseung stood next to me, his presence grounding.

“I wish I could capture this moment,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He turned to me, his expression serious. “You know, some moments are meant to be felt, not captured.”

I glanced at him, my heart racing. “What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath, as if weighing his words carefully. “I mean… some moments define us. Like this one. I’ve been feeling something for a while now, and I can’t ignore it anymore.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “I think I’m falling for you.”

I felt a rush of emotion—a mix of disbelief and exhilaration. “Heeseung, I—”

Before I could finish, he continued, “I know there’s an age difference, and I know we started as friends, but you’ve become so important to me. I can’t help how I feel.”

His honesty swept over me like a tidal wave, and I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes. “I feel the same way.”

A smile broke across his face, and in that moment, everything fell into place.

—One Night at His Apartment

One evening, we sat by the fireplace in Heeseung's cozy apartment, the atmosphere thick with unspoken feelings. The crackling flames cast dancing shadows on our faces. We were laughing, recounting the first night we had spent together, our early days when everything felt so pure and full of possibility.

“Do you ever feel like there's something more between us?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper, seeking reassurance that the love I thought we shared was still there.

Heeseung hesitated. His heart seemed to pound in the tense silence, but he finally responded, “I do. I think I've been feeling it for a while now.”

Relief washed over me, and we spent the rest of the night together, locked in a moment that felt perfect. We danced in the kitchen, the refrigerator light blinking rhythmically, casting a soft, hypnotic glow over the room. The music wasn’t playing, but we moved as if it was—slow, deliberate, as if we had all the time in the world.

*“There we are again in the middle of the night, we’re dancing ‘round the kitchen in the refrigerator light…”*

His hands were warm as they gently held mine, pulling me closer to him. The way he looked at me, with so much tenderness, made me feel as though nothing else mattered. He kissed me softly, and I kissed him back, our movements becoming more intense as desire built between us.

“I’m ready, Heeseung. I want you too.”

He leaned in, his lips meeting mine in a soft, lingering kiss. I responded eagerly, my hands reaching up to tangle in his hair. Our bodies pressed together, the heat between us growing as our kiss deepened.

His hands were warm as they gently held mine, pulling me closer to him. The way he looked at me, with so much tenderness, made me feel as though nothing else mattered. He kissed me softly, and I kissed him back, our movements becoming more intense as desire built between us. "I'm ready, Heeseung. I want you too," I whispered, my breath hitching as I spoke.

He leaned in, his lips meeting mine in a soft, lingering kiss. I responded eagerly, my hands reaching up to tangle in his hair. Our bodies pressed together, the heat between us growing as our kiss deepened.

Suddenly, Heeseung pulled away, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Y/N, I don't want to rush this. I want to take my time and make sure you're comfortable."

I nodded, feeling a shiver of anticipation run down my spine. "I trust you, Heeseung. I know you'll take care of me."

Heeseung began to kiss my neck, making his way down to my breasts. He took one nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and causing me to moan with pleasure. His hand continued to stroke my other breast, and I could feel my arousal building. He leaned in again, his lips finding mine once more. This time, his kiss was more urgent, more demanding. I moaned, feeling his tongue slip between my lips as he explored my mouth.

As we kissed, Heeseung's hands began to wander, caressing my body through my clothes.

Heeseung's hand moved down between my legs, and he began to stroke my clit. I was already so wet, and I could feel myself getting close.

"I want to taste you, Y/N," Heeseung said, his voice low and husky.

He pulled off my pants and my panties and spread my legs wide. He leaned in, his tongue darting out to taste me. I moaned, my hips bucking up as he began to lick and suck my clit.

Heeseung's fingers slipped inside me, and he began to fuck me with them. It felt incredible, and I could feel my orgasm building.

"Heeseung, I want to taste you too," I said, my voice breathless.

“Fuck baby, you don’t have too” Heeseung said, groaning.

I sat up, pushing him down onto the bed. I pulled down his pants, freeing his hard cock. I leaned down, and said “I want to” taking him into my mouth. I could taste his precum, and it only made me want him more.

I sucked and stroked his cock, feeling him grow harder in my mouth. He moaned, his hands tangling in my hair as I bobbed my head up and down.

"Fuck, Y/N," he gasped, his hips bucking up.

I pulled back, stroking his cock with my hand. I could feel him getting close to the edge. He groaned, his hips bucking up as he came and got a tissue. “You can spit it out here baby,” he said. I swallowed it, swallowing every drop of his cum. and let my tongue out to let him see it. “Holy sh*t, baby, you swallowed it? ”He said. I nodded and said, “I wanted to taste you.” "Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me,” he said, groaning. Heeseung's hand moved lower, down to my pussy again. He slipped his fingers inside, groaning as he felt how wet I was.

"You're so ready for me, Y/N," he said, his voice filled with awe.

I nodded, biting my lip as he began to stroke my clit. It felt amazing.

"Heeseung, please," I begged, feeling my orgasm building. 

"Are you sure you're ready for this, Y/N?" he asked, his voice strained with desire.

"Yes, please, Heeseung. I want you inside me."

He didn't need any more encouragement. Heeseung pulled out a condom and put it on,

He pushed inside, filling me up completely. I cried out, my nails digging into his shoulders as he began to thrust."Are you ready, Y/N?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

I nodded, biting my lip as I felt him position himself at my entrance. He pushed inside, slowly and gently. I moaned as I felt him fill me up, my hips bucking up to meet his. It felt incredible, better than anything I had ever imagined. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside me.

"Harder, Heeseung," I begged, my voice hoarse with desire. His movements were slow and deliberate. He looked into my eyes, and I could see the desire burning in his gaze.

He began to thrust, slowly at first, then faster and harder. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside me.

"You feel amazing, Y/N," Heeseung gasped, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

I moaned, my nails digging into his back as I felt my orgasm building.

"Heeseung, I'm going to cum," I gasped, my body tensing up.

"Cum for me, Y/N," he commanded, his voice rough with desire.

I did, my orgasm crashing over me like a wave. I screamed his name, my body shaking with pleasure.

Heeseung followed me over the edge, his cock twitching inside me as he came. We collapsed together, panting.

"I love you, Y/N," Heeseung whispered, his lips brushing against my ear.

"I love you too, Heeseung," I replied, smiling up at him. Heeseung rolled over onto his back, pulling me with him. I straddled him, feeling his hard cock brush against my wet folds. I moaned, rocking my hips back and forth.

"Ride me, Y/N," Heeseung commanded, his voice low and husky.

I did, sliding down onto his cock. I moaned as I felt him fill me up, my hips moving back and forth as I rode him.

Heeseung reached up, cupping my breasts in his hands. He teased my nipples, causing me to moan with pleasure.

"Play with yourself, Y/N," Heeseung commanded, his voice rough with desire.

I did, reaching down to stroke my clit. It felt incredible, and I could feel myself getting close to another orgasm.

"Heeseung, I'm going to cum," I gasped, my body tensing up.

"Cum for me, Y/N," he commanded, his voice rough with desire.

I did, my orgasm crashing over me like a wave. I screamed his name, my body shaking with pleasure.

Heeseung followed me over the edge, his cock twitching inside me as he came. We collapsed together, panting.

"I love you, Y/N," Heeseung whispered, his lips brushing against my ear.

"I love you too, Heeseung," I replied, smiling up at him.

We lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, the fire crackling softly in the background. It was perfect, and I knew that I had found my forever home in Heeseung's arms.

And that night, it felt like we belonged to each other. His touch was gentle but firm, undressing me slowly, savoring each moment. We made love under the dim light of the room, his breath warm against my skin. For those hours, we were everything—wrapped up in each other, free from the world outside.

—The Night I Left My Scarf

It was a chilly evening when I last visited Heeseung’s apartment. We had spent the day wrapped up in each other, laughing and talking, lost in the comfort of our routine. As night fell, the golden light from the setting sun faded, and the warmth of the moment enveloped us.

We had just finished dinner, and Heeseung was washing the dishes while I sat on the counter, swinging my legs playfully. I remember feeling so content, so in love. After a long conversation about our dreams, I slipped off my scarf, a soft, knitted piece that I had worn since the beginning of winter. The scarf had been my comfort on cold days, a piece of home I carried with me.

As the evening wore on, we settled onto the couch, our bodies intertwined. The warmth of his presence made me forget about the world outside. In the midst of our laughter and whispers, I completely forgot to grab my scarf when it was time to leave.

It wasn’t until I was halfway home that I realized it was still there, left behind in his cozy, inviting space. I took a deep breath, feeling a mix of longing and fear. I knew I could easily turn back, but something stopped me. Maybe it was the lingering warmth of our night together or perhaps the instinct that I had to let go of little pieces of the past.

—Us

The days following that night were filled with intimate moments that felt like they were straight out of a dream. There was one afternoon we spent at his apartment. We had just returned from a long walk along the river. The apartment was bathed in golden light from the setting sun. We fell onto the couch together, laughing, as Heeseung’s hand rested on my leg, slowly tracing circles on my skin.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear, whispering, "You’re so beautiful."

His breath was warm against my neck, sending shivers down my spine. I turned toward him, our faces only inches apart. Our lips met in a slow, lingering kiss that deepened as he pulled me onto his lap. His hands roamed my back, pulling me closer, and my fingers tangled in his hair as we melted into each other.

We spent the next hour wrapped up in that kiss, stealing breaths between soft murmurs and light touches. His lips moved from my mouth to my jaw, down my neck, each kiss more intoxicating than the last. My heart raced, my skin heating up under his touch. It felt like time stopped when we were together like that, lost in each other, the world outside completely forgotten.

There was a night when we snuck out of a party, not wanting to be around anyone else. We wandered through the quiet streets of the city, hand in hand, until we found a small park, lit only by the soft glow of the moon. We sat on a bench, our bodies close, and I could feel the heat radiating from him.

Heeseung pulled me in, his lips finding mine in the cool night air. The kiss was deep, full of longing, as if he couldn’t get enough of me. My hands ran through his hair, tugging gently as his grip on my waist tightened, pulling me closer. His lips moved down my neck, his breath hot against my skin, sending waves of electricity through my body. We were completely lost in each other, every touch, every kiss igniting the passion between us.

"I love you," he whispered between kisses, his voice husky and filled with desire.

"I love you too," I breathed, barely able to speak as his lips found mine again.

We stayed in that park for hours, kissing under the stars, our bodies entwined, not caring if anyone saw us. It felt like we were the only two people in the world, and in those moments, nothing else mattered.

—But Things Began to Change

One Friday evening, Heeseung invited me to join him and his friends for a game night at his apartment. I was excited at the prospect of spending time with him and hoped it would be a chance to connect with the people in his life. However, as soon as I arrived, I felt a wave of unease wash over me.

Sunghoon was sprawled on the couch, laughing heartily at a joke Jay had just made. Jake was pacing the room, animatedly explaining a recent gaming achievement, while Lia and Luna sat at the dining table, engrossed in a strategy card game. They exchanged inside jokes and laughter that echoed in the room, but I felt like an outsider, standing on the fringes of their world.

Heeseung noticed me lingering by the door, a soft smile on his face. "Hey! Come join us," he called, gesturing for me to sit next to him. I moved toward the couch, but as I settled in, I felt the conversation shift away from me. They began discussing their plans for the weekend, and I found myself struggling to insert myself into the dialogue.

"What about you, Y/N? Any plans?" Sunghoon asked, but the way he said it felt like an afterthought. I felt my cheeks heat up as I glanced at Heeseung, who was laughing at something Jake had just said, his attention fully absorbed in his friends.

"Um, I was thinking of going to that new café," I replied, hoping to spark some interest. The moment hung in the air, and I sensed their eyes drift back to the game.

"Nice! But we have to go back to that escape room we tried last month! It was hilarious when Jay got locked in the closet," Lia chimed in, her eyes sparkling with excitement. The group erupted in laughter, and I felt my heart sink. I had missed out on that escape room experience entirely, and now it seemed like an exclusive club that I wasn't a part of.

As the night wore on, the games became more competitive, and I tried to engage with everyone, but it felt like I was chasing shadows. Whenever I attempted to contribute, my words seemed to disappear into the air, overshadowed by the laughter and banter that flowed effortlessly between them. The moments of joy that I had anticipated turned into a stark reminder of my isolation.

"Do you want to play the next round with us?" Luna asked, breaking through my thoughts. I nodded eagerly, hoping this would finally allow me to feel included. But as I joined the game, I realized I was still a step behind. Their jokes flew over my head, and soon I found myself lost in the game’s complexity, while they easily adapted, their camaraderie a stark contrast to my solitude.

After a while, I retreated to the kitchen under the pretense of grabbing a drink. I poured myself some water and leaned against the counter, taking a moment to breathe. I wanted to be part of Heeseung's world, to feel connected to the people who were important to him. But instead, I felt like a shadow, lingering on the outskirts of a vibrant party that I had not been invited to.

When I returned to the living room, Heeseung looked up, his eyes softening when he saw me. "You okay?" he asked, genuine concern etched across his face.

I forced a smile, the ache of loneliness twisting in my chest. "Yeah, just needed a moment," I replied, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tremor in my voice.

But I could tell he was still absorbed in his friends, laughing and joking as if I were invisible. In that moment, I realized just how much I craved his attention and how desperately I needed him to bridge the gap that seemed to widen between us.

Over time, things shifted. The age gap between us started to show more clearly. Heeseung's friends were older, more experienced in life, and their conversations revolved around topics I couldn’t relate to. I was always the youngest in the room, often feeling like I was trying to keep up with conversations that left me feeling out of place.

One evening, we attended a gathering at Jay’s apartment. The atmosphere buzzed with laughter and playful banter as Sunghoon recounted a funny story from their college days. I sat on the couch, feeling like a spectator in a world that didn’t quite include me. Lia and Luna were engrossed in a debate about the latest art exhibit in town, while Jake chimed in with his own opinions. I tried to contribute, mentioning a piece I had seen online, but the conversation quickly shifted back to their shared memories and experiences. I could see it in their eyes—their bond was deep and established, while I was still trying to find my footing.

Heeseung was caught up in the moment, laughing and joking with his friends. I felt a pang of loneliness as I looked around. Their shared laughter rang in my ears, and I couldn't help but feel like an outsider looking in. It stung even more when Sunghoon playfully teased me about my age, and the others joined in with lighthearted jabs.

“Come on, Y/N, you wouldn’t even remember when we first met!” Sunghoon joked, and everyone erupted in laughter. I forced a smile, but inside, I felt smaller with each passing moment.

The more I observed, the more apparent it became how effortlessly they connected. Inside jokes, playful nudges, and the kind of laughter that seemed to echo with memories I wasn’t part of—it all became overwhelming. I tried to push down the ache in my chest, convincing myself it was just a matter of time. But every attempt to break through felt like pushing against a brick wall.

Later that night, as we walked home hand in hand, I couldn’t keep my feelings bottled up any longer. “Heeseung,” I began hesitantly, “I feel like I don’t belong here. Their conversations are so different from mine. I don’t know what to say.”

Heeseung barely looked up from his phone. “I know it’s tough,” he said nonchalantly. “But just be patient. You’ll get used to it.”

It stung—how easily he brushed off my feelings. I tried to ignore the growing sense of loneliness, convincing myself that I had Heeseung, that it was enough. But it wasn’t. I needed him to make an effort to bring me into his world.

"I need you to spend more time with me and my friends," I told him one night, my voice wavering slightly. "I always feel like the odd one out when we’re with yours."

Heeseung hesitated, his brow furrowing. "I don’t want to compromise my friendships," he replied, frustration creeping into his voice. "But I’ll try."

His promise felt hollow, like a band-aid on a wound that needed stitches. I wanted to believe him, but instead, the arguments started. He would say I was too sensitive, that I overreacted. It felt like a pattern—whenever I expressed how I felt, he found a way to turn it back on me, making me doubt myself. Each conversation felt like a step backward, the emotional distance between us growing wider.

The next few weeks were a blur of misunderstandings and silence. I would watch Heeseung interact with his friends, their laughter ringing out like music I couldn’t hear. I longed for him to reach out to me, to acknowledge the invisible line that had formed between us. But instead, I often found myself alone, retreating to my thoughts, wondering if I had somehow lost the connection we once shared.

One evening, sitting on my bed, I scrolled through my phone, watching clips of them having fun together. It felt like a cruel reminder of the joy I was missing. The weight of my feelings crashed down on me, and I found myself questioning everything. Was I not enough? Did I not fit into his world? The more I pondered, the more tears slipped down my cheeks.

*“Maybe we got lost in translation, maybe I asked for too much, but maybe this thing was a masterpiece ‘til you tore it all up…”*

—The Breaking Point

One night, after yet another argument, we were driving in his car, the air thick with tension. I sat in the passenger seat, my chest tightening as the city lights blurred past the window. I was on the verge of tears, my voice shaky as I tried to make sense of what had gone wrong.

"Why are you being like this?" I asked, frustration and hurt bubbling over. "You’ve changed."

Heeseung kept his eyes on the road, barely glancing at me. His silence was deafening, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. Finally, he sighed, exasperated. "It’s not that I’ve changed, Y/N. It’s that you’re always making things difficult. Why can’t you just let things go?"

His words cut deep, making me feel like I was the problem—like my feelings were too much, too complicated for him to handle. I turned away, staring out the window, the reflection of the passing streetlights blurring with my tears. "I’m not trying to make things difficult. I just want us to be okay."

He scoffed, the sound sharp and dismissive. "Maybe you just don’t get it. You’re just a kid, Y/N. You have to learn that life isn’t all about your feelings."

The sting of his words hit me like a slap, igniting a fire of anger within me. "You don’t get to belittle me like that! I’ve tried everything to understand you! I gave my virginity to you—something that meant the world to me!" My voice cracked as the floodgates opened, tears spilling down my cheeks. "How can you say I'm just a kid when I’ve given you so much?"

Heeseung finally turned to look at me, but his expression was cold, a mix of annoyance and impatience. "And I appreciate that, but maybe you need to understand that relationships aren’t always about grand gestures. Sometimes, you just need to chill and accept things as they are."

I shook my head, disbelief and hurt swelling in my chest. "You think this is me not accepting things? I’ve been fighting for us! I’m trying to understand you, but you keep pushing me away!"

He let out a frustrated laugh, shaking his head as if I were being unreasonable. "You’re making it sound like it’s all my fault. What do you want me to do, Y/N? Hold your hand through every little emotion? You need to grow up!"

His words twisted the knife deeper, and I could feel the anger and sadness colliding within me, threatening to consume me. "You don’t even see me anymore, do you? You only see what you want to see! I’m not asking you to fix everything, but I need you to acknowledge my feelings, not dismiss them."

"Maybe if you didn’t make such a big deal out of everything, we wouldn’t be having this conversation!" he shot back, his voice rising. "You’re the one who turns small things into drama, and I’m tired of it."

The tears continued to stream down my face, a mix of anger and heartache choking my throat. "You’re so wrapped up in your own world that you can’t even see how lonely I feel! I thought we were in this together, but now I feel like I’m just a burden to you!"

Silence filled the car, heavy and suffocating. I wiped my eyes, the reality of what was happening crashing down on me. "Is this really how you feel? That I’m just some kid making everything difficult?" 

Heeseung glanced at me briefly, his expression softening for a split second before hardening again. "I’m just being honest, Y/N. You need to toughen up. Life is harder than you think, and I can’t keep holding your hand through every little emotional meltdown."

In that moment, the warmth I once felt around him faded away, replaced by an icy realization that we were standing on different ground. "You think I’m fragile, that I can’t handle anything? I’ve tried to be strong for you, to make this work, but I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not!" 

Heeseung turned his gaze back to the road, his expression stony. “Maybe you need to figure out what you really want. Because right now, it feels like all you want is to stir up drama.”

After that night, things only got worse. We began to drift further apart, the connection we once had fading with every cold word, every dismissive look. One evening, after a particularly heated argument, Heeseung turned to me with an expression I hadn’t seen before—one that spoke volumes.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "It's not you. It's me."

It was the cliché that shattered me. I had given everything to this relationship, only to be told that it wasn’t enough. The weight of his words felt like a punch to my gut, and I struggled to breathe. Heeseung walked away, leaving me alone in a silence that felt deafening. I sat there, feeling utterly lost, like I was left to pick up the pieces of a heart that felt irreparably broken.

—Is this the end? 

The door slammed behind me, the sound echoing through the emptiness of my apartment. My chest felt tight, as if the weight of the entire world was pressing down on me. I stood in the middle of my room, surrounded by the remnants of what had once been us—his jacket still draped over the chair, the books we shared stacked haphazardly on the floor, and the pictures of us smiling that felt like they belonged to someone else.

I felt like I was suffocating.

I dropped onto the floor, hugging my knees to my chest. I couldn’t breathe. My heart was breaking into pieces I couldn’t pick up, no matter how hard I tried. The tears came in waves, uncontrollable and relentless. I pressed my forehead against my knees, the sobs racking my body as if I was trying to cry out all the love I still had for him.

*Why wasn’t I enough?*

The question replayed in my mind like a broken record. I thought I had given him everything. I thought we were building something beautiful, but now it all felt like a lie. The apartment was cold without him, and every memory, every small thing we did together, haunted me.

I pushed myself up from the floor and stumbled toward my desk, where the typewriter sat. I stared at the blank page that mocked me, waiting for words I couldn’t find. My hands trembled as I placed them on the keys. But instead of flowing like they usually did, the words felt stuck, trapped inside me. I hit the keys with frustration, punching out broken, jagged sentences.

*"Why did you leave me like this? What did I do wrong?"* I typed angrily, the clack of the keys echoing in the room.

I couldn’t get the words right. I couldn’t capture the hurt or the betrayal that twisted inside me like a knife. Tears splattered the paper, blurring the ink. My breath hitched as I furiously wiped at my face, trying to fight against the pain that consumed me.

I felt broken. Completely, utterly broken.

Months had passed since Heeseung walked out of my life, but the hollow feeling remained. No matter how hard I tried to move on, he was still everywhere. His ghost lingered in every corner of my apartment, in every thought that crossed my mind. I couldn’t escape him.

The jacket still hung over the chair, untouched. The smell of his cologne faintly clung to the fabric, as if refusing to let me forget. His books remained stacked on the floor, mocking me with memories of late-night conversations and shared dreams. And the photos… they were the worst. Frozen moments of us laughing, smiling—so happy—hung on the wall, like a cruel reminder of what once was, of what I thought we had.

I thought time would heal me. I thought the ache in my chest would eventually fade, that I would wake up one day and not think about him. But I was wrong. Every day felt like I was fighting a losing battle against the memories.

I still remembered how I gave him everything—how I gave him myself. The night I trusted him with my innocence, believing that he would treasure it, that he would treasure me. I had been so vulnerable, so open, and I thought it meant something to him. But now, looking back, it felt like I had given away the most fragile parts of myself to someone who didn’t even care.

And it hurt. 

God, it hurt so much.

I would find myself staring at the ceiling in the middle of the night, the quiet suffocating. I would replay that night in my mind, over and over again—the way he held me, the soft words he whispered, how safe I felt in his arms. It all felt like a cruel joke now. How could something so intimate, something that meant so much to me, turn into a painful reminder of everything I had lost?

I felt useless. Completely, utterly useless.

I had poured every part of myself into him, and now there was nothing left. The girl who once believed in love, who believed in him, was gone. In her place was someone hollow, someone who couldn’t find her way back to herself.

I tried to distract myself, throwing myself into work, into hobbies, into anything that would keep my mind off him. But nothing worked. He was always there, lurking in the back of my mind, in the smallest details of my day. The sound of his laugh, the feel of his touch, the promises he had made—all of it haunted me.

Even when I looked in the mirror, I couldn’t recognize myself anymore. I had become someone who was defined by the absence of him, by the hole he had left behind. It felt like I had lost not just him, but parts of myself I could never get back.

I wondered if he ever thought about me, if he even remembered the things we shared. But deep down, I knew it didn’t matter. He had moved on, while I was still here, stuck in the wreckage of what we had been.

—Remembering  (Heeseung's POV)

I couldn’t sleep.

Even though weeks had passed since we ended things, her face still haunted my thoughts. The way her eyes shimmered with innocence when we first met, how her laugh sounded like music, how her touch always sent warmth through me—it was all I could think about. I messed it up. I had hurt her more than I ever intended, but the truth was, I didn’t know how to fix it.

As I lay in my bed, the room dark and quiet, I found myself replaying our memories, one by one. I could still see her sitting by the window, her face lit up by the soft glow of the afternoon sun, her fingers tracing shapes on the glass. She always looked so peaceful in moments like that.

God, I miss her.

I reached for my phone, scrolling through the photos we had taken together, my heart sinking as I stopped on one from the river walk. She was smiling, the wind in her hair, looking at me like I was the only person who mattered. How did I let that slip away?

I had been selfish. I pushed her away when she needed me the most, convinced myself that I was too busy, too caught up in my own life. But the truth was, I was scared. Scared of how deeply she loved me. Scared of what that meant for me, and scared that I wouldn’t be able to give her the same in return.

I sat up, running a hand through my hair as the guilt gnawed at me. She had given me everything—her trust, her heart, her innocence. And I had thrown it away.

She was too good for me. I thought to myself, the weight of my mistakes pressing down on my chest. I hadn’t been fair to her. I hadn’t been patient. Instead of guiding her into my world, I left her out in the cold, letting her feel like an outsider.

I thought back to the night we argued in the car, her tear-streaked face looking out the window, her voice breaking as she said, “I gave you everything, and you still don't see me.”

The pain in her voice still echoed in my ears.

And now? Now she was gone. I wondered if she would ever forgive me. I doubted it, not after everything I had put her through. I missed her love, her laughter, and her innocence—the way she used to look at me like I was her whole world. I wanted that back, but I knew it was too late.

I didn’t deserve her.

—Years Later

The air in the room buzzed with excitement. I sat at the signing table, a line of readers curving out the door, waiting to get their copies of my book signed. I never thought I’d reach this moment—a moment where I could share my story with the world, unafraid and stronger than I’d ever been.

I picked up the first book in the pile, running my fingers across the glossy cover. *"All Too Well: A Story of Remembering and Letting Go"*—the title that summed up everything I had been through, every lesson I had learned, every piece of myself I had gathered back together.

As readers approached, I smiled and thanked them, but my mind drifted back to the journey that brought me here. This book wasn’t just words on paper. It was pieces of my heart, carefully stitched together. It was a reflection of the love I gave, the pain I endured, and the person I became because of it.

The first chapter detailed the innocence I lost—not just physically, but emotionally. I wrote about how I had given myself so completely to someone who didn’t stay, someone who I thought would protect my heart but instead left me broken.

I gave everything to him. And for a long time, it felt like I lost myself in the process. But writing this book, putting all my pain and lessons into words, had been the most freeing thing I had ever done.

The line of readers thinned, and the crowd started to disperse. I stretched my hands, feeling the weight of the day start to fade. The final few approached the table, thanking me for sharing my story, and I smiled, genuinely grateful for their words. As I handed the last book back to its owner, I glanced up and froze.

Standing at the back of the room, framed by the window near the door, was a figure I never expected to see.

Heeseung.

My heart stalled for a moment, my breath catching in my throat. He was standing there, his eyes locked on me, but what caught my attention was the red scarf wrapped around his neck—the very one I had left at his house, the scarf that symbolized that I had given him a part of me.

Memories flooded back like a storm: the warmth of his hands, the laughter we shared, and the moment everything changed.

I could see his hesitation as he stood outside, watching me through the window. His eyes were filled with something I couldn’t quite read—regret, maybe? Longing? I wasn’t sure, and I wasn’t certain if I wanted to know.

Should he come in? Should he stay outside? Was he waiting for me to acknowledge him, to invite him in, or maybe even to chase him one last time?

But I didn’t move.

The Y/N from years ago might have stood up, might have run to him, desperate for answers or closure. But I wasn’t her anymore. I had learned to stand on my own, to move forward without him, and to find strength in the parts of me that he had left behind.

For a brief moment, our eyes met through the glass. I didn’t know what he saw in my gaze, but I hoped he recognized that I wasn’t waiting for him anymore. I had found my peace.

As the last of the readers left the room, I began to pack up my things, the weight of the day slowly lifting. Just as I turned to put the last of the books away, I heard a soft voice behind me.

“Y/N?”

I spun around, and there he was—Heeseung, standing just a few feet away, the red scarf still wrapped around his neck, a hesitant smile tugging at his lips.

“Sorry I didn’t come in earlier,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, as if he was afraid to disturb the moment. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me.”

My heart raced, caught between the exhilaration of seeing him and the flood of memories that threatened to overwhelm me. “I didn’t think you would come at all,” I replied, my voice steady despite the chaos inside.

He took a step closer, and I could see the uncertainty etched on his face. “I had to. I needed to hear what you had to say. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

For a moment, we just stood there, the air thick with unspoken words and emotions. I searched his eyes, looking for the answers to questions I hadn’t yet dared to ask.

“I’m okay,” I said finally, breaking the silence. “I’ve found my peace.”

He nodded, the weight of my words sinking in. “I can see that. I— I just wanted to say I’m sorry for everything.”

I held his gaze, feeling the past echo between us. “You don’t need to apologize,” I replied, my voice firm. “We’ve both grown, and this book—this journey I’ve taken—it’s helped me heal.”

A flicker of relief washed over his face, but there was something more there—a longing, perhaps. “I’ve missed you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

As the silence stretched between us, I felt the years of hurt and healing collide. I wasn’t the same girl who had chased after him, but seeing him here, so close, stirred emotions I thought I had tucked away.

“I’ve missed you too,” I finally confessed, the truth spilling out before I could stop it. “But I can’t go back. I’ve moved forward.”

He nodded slowly, the understanding hanging heavy in the air. “I know. I wouldn’t want to take away what you’ve built for yourself.”

With a deep breath, I stepped back, feeling the weight of the moment settle between us. “Maybe we can both find a way to move on. We can carry our memories without letting them define us.”

Heeseung smiled, a bittersweet expression that mirrored my own feelings. “I’d like that.”

In a gentle gesture, he took off the red scarf in his neck, holding it out to me. “I think you should have this back. It’s yours.”

As the scarf dangled between us, I felt a whirlwind of emotions. A part of me wanted to let him keep it, to let him hold onto a piece of our past. But another side of me surged with a desire to reclaim my innocence—this scarf was a symbol of everything I had lost, but it was also a reminder of how far I had come.

It had been my warmth, my comfort, my naivety. I had spent so long trying to fit into his world, trying to be enough for him, that I had forgotten to be enough for myself. 

And now, standing here as an independent woman who had found her voice and her strength, I knew that I needed to take it back. I needed to own my past and carry it forward, not as a burden but as a badge of resilience.

Taking a step forward, I accepted the scarf from him, my fingers brushing against his. “Thank you,” I said, my voice steady. “For everything.”

Heeseung nodded, his eyes softening as he watched me wrap the scarf around my neck. The act felt powerful, almost ceremonial. I was reclaiming my innocence, my past, but more importantly, I was affirming my journey toward independence.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity. 

“You too,” I replied, feeling the weight of closure settle between us. We both knew it was time to move on, to honor the memories while embracing the future.

As he turned to leave, I felt a sense of finality. He was walking away, but this time it didn’t hurt. I had transformed my pain into something beautiful. 

And as I watched him walk away, I realized that I had already found the closure I needed. I had turned my pain into something beautiful, something lasting. Heeseung no longer had the power to define my story. I had written my own ending, and it was far more powerful than anything he could ever give me.

“And you call me up again just to break me like a promise, so casually cruel in the name of being honest…”

Later that night, as I sat by the window of my hotel room, the city lights twinkling outside, I thought about the years that had passed. The love I had felt for Heeseung had been real, but so had the pain. I had been so young, so willing to give all of myself to him without realizing that he wasn’t willing to give me the same in return.

It had taken me years to understand that love wasn’t supposed to be one-sided. I had spent so long trying to fit into his world, trying to be enough for him, that I had forgotten to be enough for myself.

But now, I was different. I had grown. I had found my voice, not just as a writer, but as a person. I no longer needed Heeseung or anyone else to validate my worth. I had written my pain into the pages of All Too Well, and in doing so, I had healed.

As I looked at the scarf draped over the back of the chair, I smiled softly. It was no longer a symbol of heartbreak or loss. It was a reminder of how far I had come, of the strength I had found in myself. I had loved deeply, and I had lost. But in the end, I had gained something far more precious—myself.

The next morning, I wrapped the scarf around my neck and stepped out into the city, the cool breeze brushing against my face. I felt lighter, freer than I had in years. The past was behind me, and the future stretched out ahead, full of possibility.

“And I remember it all too well…"

But now, it was just a memory—a beautiful, painful, bittersweet memory that no longer had the power to hurt me. I had written my own ending, and it was exactly the way it was meant to be.

Masterlist

[vevobly]

Yellowjackets Friends With Benefits Headcanons! [Pre-crash] (1)

A/N: I wrote this with female reader in mind, so I apologize in advance for those who wanted it to be vague and up to your interpretation! This is sort of an AU since Jeff is Jackie's ex here.

Jackie Taylor:

Aside from the fact that Jeff was terrible in bed, Jackie would absolutely love the arrangement you two have. Unlike him, you actually manage to make her feel the real thing. Honestly, If it weren't for the fact you're a girl, Jackie might have just dated you instead. Still, that doesn't stop the golden girl from feeling something for you. You treat her better than Jeff or any of the other guys she's dated ever did. And you're not even her lover—just a friend she hooks up with from time to time!

To Jackie, it’s all just a game where she holds the upper hand. To her, it’s casual—nothing more, nothing less. Until it isn’t, and she finds herself craving more than what you both agreed to initially. She starts flirting with you constantly, literally flaring up with jealousy anytime someone else so much as looks at you. You're practically hers with how glued she is to your side. Despite the boundaries you set up, Jackie wants you guys together. She wants something official, something real.

"So, are you seeing anyone else? Not that I care or anything, just curious."

Shauna Shipman:

All is well until it isn't. Shauna doesn't know when or how it happened, but she fell for you. While she DID agree to keep things casual with you, she's quickly regretting it after discovering she wants more than what this stupid arrangement you guys have with each other originally entailed. Jackie never really looked at her the way you did, and let's be honest—Jeff only looked at her when she didn't look at him. But you? You, on the other hand, look at her and actually see her for her.

It’s no surprise to Shauna that she fell for you. You are you. And while she does try her best to keep things as they are, she can't help but wonder. Did you want more with her or was she just reading too much into it? Shauna doesn't know what to do. She's trying everything to separate her feelings from you and the arrangement you guys have, but it's not working. Shauna wants you, she wants all of you to her.

"I mean, it's fine if it's just fun. Totally fine."

Taissa Turner:

Tai really prides herself on her self-control. So imagine her utter surprise with herself when she realized she wanted more than the things you guys agreed on in your arrangement. Baffled, even more so with the context of your relationship with each other. Immediately, she's putting her feelings for you to the side. What you guys have is an arrangement, something mutually beneficial to both of you. It's that, and nothing else more.

But dammit, the heart wants what it wants. And while Tai does want you, she's not gonna go ahead and push her own desires onto you. Not unless you wanted to, of course. Tai is very respectful towards the boundaries you guys set up, but that doesn't stop her from being protective of you. Protectiveness, which starts being a little more like possessiveness over time, especially when someone else than her hopes to catch your attention.

"As long as we’re both on the same page, this can work. But if it gets complicated, let’s talk."

Van Palmer:

Van, out of all the girls, would be the most laid back about it. Sure, she'd love to be more than what you are now, but she's going to push unless you want that too. That doesn't mean it's easy for her though, especially when you're doing things far beyond what friends should typically do. She can't help but want more than just to be your friend. Still, Van refuses to make things messier by letting her feelings complicate the situation. She'd rather keep things as they are than lose you.

To cope with her whole situationship with you, Van jokes every once in a while about your arrangement with each other. And while she says it with laughter usually, you can't help but feel like there's a sad undertone to it. Yeah, she's all big smiles and laughing about it, but there's always this sad look in her eyes when she jokes about what you guys have. What she is to you, and what you are to her. But you don't know, maybe you're just reading too much into it.

"So, what do we call this? Friends with benefits? Or... close gal pals?"

Natalie Scatorccio:

Natalie fully knows that what you guys have is an arrangement, a deal you both agreed on for your own benefit. Yet, she can't help thinking about it as more than just that. Yeah, she acts like the whole thing doesn't mean much jackshit to her, but deep down? It means more than anything. Nat wouldn't fully admit to herself, much less to anyone else, but despite the fact you both aren't dating each other. Hooking up with someone else than you feels like cheating on you.

It's those kinds of thoughts that make Natalie come to a realization of what exactly she feels for you—love. Fuck, as if life hasn't screwed her too much already, she just had to go ahead and fall for you. She tries everything she can to keep things the same but fails. When she can't do that, she starts doing her moves. It's all subtle to her, at least. But others? No. Natalie does anything for you without a second thought, she doesn't expect you to return the favor but still.. she's hoping.

"We're just having fun, right? No need to overthink it."

Lottie Matthews:

Although Lottie did agree on this whole arrangement with you, it hasn't been doing much other than causing a real stir within her. Yes, this whole thing is meant to be casual. And it is casual. For you, at least. For Lottie? It isn't. Despite the whole fuss you guys made about not doing anything with each other outside of this—Lottie wants to kiss you, she wants to hold your hand, whisper sweet nothings to your ears, and explore your body with love. Not lust, or for pleasure.

Lottie is aware of what she feels for you quickly. And at first, she thinks about breaking it up with you. But Lottie wants you, she needs you. And so, instead of doing that, she decides to keep up this arrangement with you. Whether it's intentional or not, Lottie starts dragging intimate things into what you guys have. She takes you out for dinner, you guys talk for hours, until she's taking you home then kissing you goodbye on the cheek—it's those that bring Lottie to realize she loves you.

“I'm okay with this. I'm okay with you, and I'm okay.. with us.”

Laura Lee:

Laura Lee feels torn about what’s going on between you two—not because you’re a girl. No, that's never been an issue for her. But because to her, sex is something sacred and this feels like it goes against everything she believes in. Still, her feelings for you are so strong that she convinces herself it doesn’t matter. It works for a while. Things between you seem perfect, until you're leaning in to kiss her and she finds herself wanting you. No, needing you wholly. Kissing you softly for an eternity.

Laura Lee is lost as to what she should do. So she does what she does best when she's lost, she prays. She asks for guidance about this arrangement you guys have with each other, hoping for some clarity on whether this whole thing that you both agreed and went fully board on with was a good choice or not in the end. Like the rest of the girls, she tries her best to keep it as the way it is. But it's hard to do that when you're looking at her like she put the stars up in the skies, and made the world shine much brighter at night.

“I just think we should… talk about where this is going. For both of our sakes.”

Misty Quigley:

Misty would throw herself into this arrangement with you in full enthusiasm. Depending on how much she valued and liked you, she would see this whole thing you guys got on going as some sort of sign about how close you guys are to one another and so. And knowing Misty? You bet your ass that this girl will have trouble keeping things casual with you because despite what you guys agreed on and what she said in response to it, she's growing increasingly attached to you.

Misty being Misty would go above and beyond just to please you. Crossing a bunch of your boundaries from every once in a while just because of it and her own eagerness to keep you close around her. Whether you talked to her or not about keeping this whole thing just the way it is and nothing else more, she would still pursue you. The girl will tell you that she's fine with this arrangement going nowhere else while basically contradicting her words by her own very actions.

“I just think we’re really great together, don’t you? Like, we could be even more, but... no pressure!”

[adultswiftie]

Taylor Swift pulls her songwriting primarily from her own life, but not exclusively from it. She has written fictional songs, fully separate from herself, her entire career. Let's pull a quick, off-the-top-of-my-head sample:

Mary's Song

You Belong With Me - inspired by a scenario she dreamed up after seeing one of her band members "on the phone with [his] girlfriend, she's upset"

Speak Now

Starlight

Stay, Stay, Stay

And that's not counting ones where she spun a fictional tale out of her own immediate experience, like Love Story (her parents didn't want her to be with a guy, but the story she tells never happened), The Lucky One (the Joni Mitchell -to-Taylor Swift pipeline), Mine (an imagined future based off an early interaction), etc.

So why does the fandom as a whole seem to completely reject her assertion that large swaths of folklore and evermore are fully fictional stories and characters that she made up? That's what writers do. Certainly not every song is made up. Certainly with several of them we can look back with hindsight and take a guess as to why she was drawn to particular characters and tropes and stories at that point in her life. But the willingness to suggest the she is just blatantly lying about her songwriting process, the thing she holds most sacred, just baffles me.

[artbyblastweave]

ask game; Victoria Dallon, aka Glory Girl aka Antares

I've always thought that Victoria's first appearance is quite the bit of deft needle-threading.

The thing about Interlude 2 is that Vicky is our first example of one of this setting's established heroes actively fighting crime- not just swooping in to vulture up the accomplishments of an up-and-comer- and a therefore a major goal of the sequence is to ensure that the audience comes away structurally unnerved by what counts as business as usual for the heroes, set the stage for the hurricane of ass-covering to come. So we have a sequence where she lords her power over a baseline criminal who has no realistic chance to fight back or get away, where she cripples and nearly kills him in a display of excessive force, where she uses her connections to other capes to duck out on the consequences of her excess once she realizes that she's crossed certain moral and optical Rubicons. All of this is gross, all of this speaks to an alarmingly cavalier attitude amongst even the most ostensibly accountable heroes. And from a protagonistic perspective, all of this serves to soften the blow of Taylor's actions at the bank in act three, because we're predisposed to see Vicky as an arrogant, overprivileged loose cannon who'd actually have a significantly higher body count than all of the Undersiders put together if not for the cushion afforded to her by her status as a superhero. A golden child up against the already put-upon underdog.

But. She also does all of that to a Neo-Nazi, who was fresh off committing a hate crime. I mean, if this was violence against a purse-snatcher, a drug-dealer- It would be very, very easy to block this sequence in a way that would set her up as a villain and nothing else for the rest of the work. In The Boys, for example, Homelander debuts by incinerating one bank robber's hand and throwing another a thousand feet into the air to land hard on a parked car, and the dissonance between that casual brutality and his chumminess with the onlookers is the thematic backbone for... basically the entire show, because he was in such total control of the situation that the only reason to do it that way is that he fundamentally doesn't care. In Super Crooks, it's made abundantly clear that the superheroes trying to arrest the titular supervillains are significantly more destructive to the city than the villains are, because their institutional backing removes any incentive to do anything but pursue the flashiest arrests possible for the sake of ratings. But Glory Girl? She's a sixteen year old putting her money where her mouth is on the unconsidered-dilettante suburban-left-ish tumblrite rallying cry of punching a Nazi. She's living out a near-boilerplate superheroic fantasy of righteous violence against an uncomplicatedly righteous target- likely a fantasy entertained at least once by the median cape fan, if we're being honest- and then, in the aftermath, blood on her hands and on the pavement, staring down the full weight of the prospect of actually having killed a person in an unconsidered spate of rage, is very much a panicked teenager about it, scrambling for a way to walk it back.

Which, independent of the specifics of whether this particular asshole had it coming, is the problematic element of this that generalizes- that superheroism in this world is a system that puts the social license to use concrete-shattering power in the hands of a kid with the judgement and attitude of someone scheming up ways to dodge curfew. She's done this before, she's gonna keep doing this, she's gonna keep being two-faced about it with her public-facing golden-girl image. But she wasn't wrong to be angry. And the fact that this is the kind of thing she gets angry about is hard to separate from later beats where she tries to do right by people, hard to separate from her willingness to put herself on the line against Endbringers and the Slaughterhouse 9. It's a bad situation, a horrible system that's guaranteed to incentivize bad behavior, they shouldn't be assigning any of this shit to a 17-year-old. But later on, when things go south for her, the seeds are planted so that she can retain audience sympathy in a way that she likely wouldn't be able to if this story was a banal hatswap, with unfairly maligned "villains" who do no real wrong against supervillains who happen to call themselves superheroes.

[spidercoris]

SBG EP 95 FASTPASS SPOILERS

there’s so much to unpack for this episode…

1. this panel is so fucking cute i love them i hope they explode the besties ever

2. AUAAUUAUAGGGGHHHHHHHAYAUAUAGAYA BEN LOOKS HORRIFYING

3. since these phantom versions of themselves are using the same bodies that they use in the phantom dimension, would ben be hurt once the shift goes back to normal? like once they go back to their usual midnight routine will bens body in the phantom dimension still have a bullet wound in his leg?

4. logan being the one with common sense as per usual 😭😭 (also if someone dies because of this split up im calling it that taylor will somewhat blame herself since she suggested the idea)

5. a little birdy told me that tyler and aiden were gonna have some angst during the separation… could possibly be tyler totally breaking down because of his separation from taylor (red has confirmed they have separation anxiety) and then aiden has to awkwardly comfort him. OR it’s the other way around and tyler has to awkwardly comfort. i feel like tyler’s good at comforting but when it comes to aiden it’s a bit weird cause their relationship is more bickering than actually talking about feelings

6. aiden ur so funny please never die

7. i can imagine in the future whenever logan in the phantom dimension taps on aiden’s shoulder to ask him something he always gets a mini heart attack and flashbacks to that moment

“hey aiden-”

“AUAUAUAUAGHH- oh sorry haha what is it logan”

“…nevermind”

8. logan looks hella scary AND aiden looks so scared here. GOOD! yknow why? it could mean he’s slowly leaning towards wanting to live (since he’s kinda hinted at being passively suicidal). if this happened to early season 1 aiden he definitely would’ve enjoyed it more like “oh it didn’t kill me lol kinda a let down would’ve been more fun” BUTTTTTT he’s actually afraid which means he could be afraid of dying! CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT! also i’ve never seen him have that facial expression how is bro still holding that smile

9. “so… we’re running right?”

“oh yeah definitely running” please they’re so silly

[crumblinggothicarchitecture]

Someone smarter than me needs to do an in-depth analysis on how swift weaponizes sex. So many of her lyrics involve cheating as revenge and picking fights with her partners about other girls. She makes it sound like some godly privilege to be with her and if she masterminded her way into your life you're just soooo lucky. Even "touch me while your bros play GTA" plays into that. Like "why would you want to have fun and game with your friends when ill let you finger me". (Sidenote a bunch of her lyrics and all of Me! sounds like an abusive partner daring you to leave and dare to find someone better) It's creepy how she's so juvenile and egotistical at the same time. She's mastered the "any mention of my bfs, even the underage ones, is slutshaming" move and uses it to get out of any criticism. Like, have all the sex you want be safe whatever but don't act like some sad little girl who got taken advantage of when the game you started goes poorly.

Ask, and ye shall receive. Because this a very insightful observation! Thanks!

It is true that Swift clearly uses sex and sexuality like a "gotcha" moment. I was always quite perturbed by her songs that glorify cheating. It's just so strange, but I think it ties into her enjoyment of revenge fantasies. Anyway, I was planning to write about how Swift's music often engages with and reinforces heteropatriarchal social standards. I think your idea adds an interesting new layer to the ways in which she manipulates through sex- both in the performance of passivity to masculine authority, as the patriarchy, and the ways in which she commodifies female sexuality by weaponizing it.

You're right it's incredibly egotistical and juvenile.

Also, I have a major bone to pick with the way Taylor Swift uses feminism to shut down criticism- like OMG do I have a problem with her there. She's only ever spent her career crying about how "women who talk bad about me are bad women" yet, she never really does or says anything actually feminist. In fact, most of her music, like I said above, reinforces the patriarchy. She herself is guilty of so much slut-shaming, too. I will go into detail, with a real argument, in a separate post soon. And I thank you for pointing out the weaponized sexuality aspect of her, often, overtly patriarchal tone.

BTW- "ME!" is Such a weird song -> "I know that I went psycho on the phone" uhh... excuse me?