#sure they text and occasionally call. but the only ones who Actually see each other would be bree and al

[yououghtaknow]

growing up is about realising every ship in skam brighton is, in a way, a failmarriage and that’s Okay

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

In Defense of Marinette

I like Marinette. While there are many valid criticisms of her writing, the same can be said for literally every other character and she's actually doing pretty well given that she's the main character. After all, in a show where consistent characterization is an ongoing issue, the one with the most screen time will probably be the one who's the biggest victim of the issue.

This is heavily exacerbated by the rule that supposedly governs Miraculous. Namely that, in each story, Marinette must make a mistake. Or, at least, so says the head writer:

I really do not care what this guy says on Twitter or anywhere else. I only care about what's in the show because, if you have to go outside the text to understand the text, then you have no idea how to tell a good story.

However, unlike many of the tweets that I've seen, this one isn't some BS bit of lore. It's a writing rule and it has substantial backing in the text. It's extremely rare to have an episode where Marinette comes out smelling like roses and that's a problem because Miraculous has over 100 episodes. In other words, to follow this rule, the writers have to come up with over 100 ways for Marinette to be wrong so of course she's going to come across poorly. Why would you do this to your main character?

It's extremely common for kids shows to have a "lesson of the day" element to them. Someone always needs to learn something, but I've never seen a show misunderstand the assignment so badly. Learning a lesson is not the same as doing something wrong.

It's been a while since I watched the 2010 version of My Little Pony, but it really leaned into that whole "lesson of the day" thing and it actually knew what it was doing, so I'm going to talk about it briefly to discuss things that Miraculous should have done.

The first thing to note is that MLP had an unambiguous main character - Twilight Sparkle - but Twilight was not the one who learned all of the lessons. She had a pet dragon and a crew of five friends who would, occasionally, be the ones to learn the lesson because there were lots of lessons that simply didn't fit Twilight's character. Instead of warping Twilight to make the idea work (cough cough Ikari Gozen cough), the writers just let someone else have the spotlight for a bit.

This is an excellent way to build out your cast and Miraculous had plenty of opportunities to do it. For example, Lila should not have been Marinette's issue. The fact that Lila hates Marinette could have certainly stuck around, but the one who takes her down and learns to investigate her sources? That should have been Alya. A liar is the perfect enemy for an investigative journalist, but a poor enemy for someone who shines as a battlefield commander and overthinks when she's given too much time.

Another way that MLP would teach lessons was to have someone other than Twilight or the main crew cause the issue that they then had to deal with. This leads to one of the best moments in children's television:

And, frankly? Marinette deserves a moment like this. That poor girl has been through hell and is never allowed to make the right call when it really matters. The show will even completely rewrite its lore to make her fail (see: Strike Back). That is such an awful thing to do to your lead! Shows about female empowerment should include women feeling powerful and, no, Lila and Chloe don't count!

Also, the show is literally about Gabriel taking advantage of people who are upset. You don't need to have Marinette make a mistake to shoehorn in a life lesson. Akumas are life lesson fodder and season 1 actually seemed to get this. I'm not sure why they switched gears to "Marinette is the star and, therefore, must always be wrong."

The final way that MLP taught lessons was to have Twilight do something wrong because having your main character do something wrong is a totally valid way to teach lessons. It just shouldn't be your only way because you know who is always wrong in children's media?

Villains.

They wrote Marinette like a villain.

And a large part of the fandom hates her for it because of course they do.

You're not supposed to like villains.

[steddieas-shegoes]

it's not ever what it looks like

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is saying you're sorry'

rated m | 3,299 words | cw: language, implied sexual content | tags: angst with a happy ending, arguing, established relationship, hurt/comfort, rock star eddie munson, teacher steve harrington, modern au, steve thinks eddie is cheating on him but HE ISN'T I PROMISE, marriage proposal

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

It wasn't the first time Steve woke up to pictures and articles about Eddie being seen with some model or actor, but it was the first time he'd actually been worried.

Eddie had been distant lately. Usually, when he was on tour, he'd call Steve on his lunch break and text him when he got off of work, and he'd try to Facetime him after his show if it wasn't in a different time zone.

But for the past week or so, he had excuses. They sounded legitimate until one of the afternoons he said the band was caught up in an interview so he couldn't call and Jeff called him ten minutes later to ask where Eddie was. Even with that, Steve hadn't assumed he was cheating.

Steve figured maybe Eddie was just tired or his social battery had run out. Those kinds of things happened before occasionally.

But not daily for over a week.

He was barely even responding to texts, and the ones he did respond to were hours later and hardly adding to any conversation.

And now this article.

There was a picture of Eddie standing with his arm around some guy who was taller than him, both of them laughing, looking at each other like...well. Steve knew that look because it'd only ever been pointed at him, but now he was seeing it pointed at just some guy.

The headline read EDDIE MUNSON GIVING UP HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEART FOR SUPERMODEL SUPERSTAR?

Steve decided the only way through this was to read the entire article. At least then he could probably convince himself they were wrong.

Except the article went on to explain how Eddie hadn't brough Steve to any shows yet this tour, and how he'd been flirting more with the crowd after the show instead of just during it, how he was seen at two bars over the last week when he usually doesn't go out after shows.

It went on to say that these pictures were taken shortly after they'd been seen sneaking away from a group of people they'd been hanging out with and that they seemed very close for the entire night. The article said the guy was a male lingerie model who made it big posing for Gucci last year. He'd just landed his first film role as a supporting actor and was looking to land a lead role soon.

Steve hated him. And he was getting a terrible feeling in his gut about what was going on.

He had 26 unread texts, most of them from Robin, Dustin, and Gareth.

All of them had said mostly the same things:

I can't get ahold of Eddie.

He wouldn't do this.

Something else is going on.

Call me when you can.

The last one was Gareth, and it's not that he and Gareth weren't close, but they never talked on the phone.

He tried not to think about he didn't have a single message or missed call from Eddie.

Steve called Gareth.

"Steve. Shit, I'm glad you called."

"What's going on?"

Gareth sighed. "Ed's kinda losing it. But before you call him-"

"Why would I call him? Shouldn't he be the one to call me? If he wants to be with some supermodel, he should probably be the one to break up with me, right?" Steve could feel tears gathering in his eyes, stinging the back of his throat. "I'm not sure why I have to be the one to hurt and do the breaking up."

"Steve-"

"Is there something you needed Gareth? Or were you just trying to defend your friend?"

"There's nothing to defend! I swear-"

"Yeah. Well. Tell him to call me if he wants to explain anything, I guess."

Steve hung up just before a sob ripped from his throat.

He never had to worry about Eddie being a famous rock star, spending 6-7 months of the year gone, meeting all kinds of flashy celebrities. Eddie loved him so much, he never had any doubt that he'd always be his first choice.

Until now.

It was a shitty feeling and he had to be at work in less than an hour.

No time to wallow.

He sent a quick text to Robin to let her know he was okay, but needed to focus on getting through work, then shut off his phone.

"Is everything okay?" the art teacher, Mrs. Phineas, asked him on their lunch break. "You seem out of it today."

"Just a migraine," Steve gave a half-smile, hoped it was enough to convince her to leave him alone. He still hadn't turned on his phone, and at this point, he didn't really want to.

She tilted her head to the side. "When are you off to see your man?"

"Don't know," he shrugged, ignoring the tug in his stomach, the sudden weight in his chest.

"Ah," she said, turning back to her soup. "Something happened."

"Nothing happened!"

"You look two seconds away from crying," she gave him a deadpan look. "Did he hurt you?"

Mrs. Phineas was a little older than Wayne, close to retirement, and had been his closest friend from the moment he started teaching at this school nearly six years ago. He'd told her everything about Eddie, their relationship, his hopes of Eddie taking a longer break after this tour so they could have some time just the two of them, maybe make a real plan for their future.

Steve nodded once.

Her hand covered his and she squeezed his fingers in her own. "I may not know him half as well as I know you, but I know that boy loves you. You two will get through this, whatever it is."

"I dunno if we will," Steve whispered, scared to speak louder and risk the tears falling. He'd been doing so well today.

She patted his hand and went back to eating, saying nothing else about it.

His students had caught on early that he wasn't quite his usual self, and the group of second graders had been on their best behavior because of it. As the dismissal bell rang and he started calling for bus riders to line up, someone walked through his door.

Eddie walked through his door.

He bit back the anger, knowing his students loved Eddie and wouldn't know he was here for any reason other than to say hello.

"Mr. Munson!" A few of them yelled as most of them ran up to him instead of getting in the line Steve asked them to.

"Hi kiddos!" Eddie was faking it, but luckily the students couldn't tell. "Sorry, but you guys have to listen to Mr. H right now. I promise I will come say hi again tomorrow."

The students grumbled about it and Steve took in his appearance.

He had dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept the night before, his hair was in a messy bun instead of perfectly arranged to fall on his shoulders, and he was wearing Steve's hoodie that had suspiciously gone missing the last time he'd been home.

The fact that Steve's first thought was how badly he wanted to pull him into a hug was not a good sign.

He checked names off the list as they filtered out the door and then called the car riders to line up. He went through the list and made sure everyone made it into the hall where they'd be called when their parent pulled up before turning back to Eddie.

He closed his door and made his way to his desk, ignoring the way Eddie awkwardly stood by one of the student desks in the front.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked, signing off of his work email and organizing tomorrow's lesson plan.

"I needed to explain-"

"Right."

"That article wasn't supposed to come out yet."

Steve's jaw dropped. So he wasn't going to deny it, he was just gonna act like it was the media's fault for releasing it before he could talk to Steve.

"Yeah. So you decided to come break up with me in person because you got caught cheating instead of doing it over the phone right before the article hit online. Got it."

Steve was not going to cry about this. Not in front of Eddie.

He was going to go home, shower, try to eat something, and then he was going to cry for the next 10 hours.

"No, Steve, you don't understand."

"You're right, I don't. I don't understand how you could throw away a 10 year relationship for a model who doesn't even know your middle name. I don't understand how you can fly all the way here and interrupt my day at my job to try to explain to me why you were so cozy with a guy who doesn't even know that you like your hot chocolate with Bailey's instead of regular milk. I really don't understand how you couldn't even bother to text or call me one single time since the article to even try to explain anything." Steve wiped his eyes furiously, angry that his tears were betraying him. "I don't understand why you would expect me to care for reasons."

Eddie wordlessly picked Steve's phone up off the desk and powered it on. He set it down in front of Steve and waited.

Texts and calls and emails came through all at once, hundreds of notifications lighting up his screen.

Many of them from Eddie himself.

"Go ahead. Open them," Eddie didn't sound mad, he just sounded resigned.

So Steve read through the texts, many of them different renditions of 'please Steve, call me' and 'I love you sweetheart I'm sorry.' Not promising.

But then he started playing the voicemails.

"Stevie, it's really not what it looks like. It's never what it looks like. You know that. Please call me as soon as you can. I love you."

"I can explain everything if you call me back. I promise you it isn't anything more than a business thing. Everyone in the band can tell you. I swear. Just. Please."

"I'm getting on a flight to you now. I'm gonna keep trying to call you even when I land. I need you to know what's going on."

"Just landed. I'm on my way to you. The guys are a little pissed, but you're more important than the show tonight. I'm not doing my own thing until I know you understand."

Steve looked up at him, tears still falling down his face.

"Well?" He asked, broken.

"His name is Wyatt. He's trying to make it in the acting world and he was pretty much told he was the top choice for playing lead in a movie that's in early stages of development," Eddie spoke quickly.

"Great for him."

"It's actually great for all of us. The movie is a biopic of Corroded Coffin. He's expected to play me."

At any other time, Steve would be proud, he'd be jumping up and down at this chance for them, and he'd be kissing Eddie without a care in the world.

But he still saw that picture and that article, and no matter how much "business" was going on, it was pretty clear that wasn't all that was going on.

"So you thought sleeping with him would help him get into the role? Or did you just wanna get into him?" Steve bit back.

"The article was wrong! The picture was just really conveniently timed! You know the media are vultures, Stevie. How many times have they written about us breaking up? How many times have they said Gareth and I have secretly been married for the last two years? How many times have they tried to post shitty things about your relationship before me to prove that you can't possibly be queer?" Eddie pulled Steve to his feet and cupped his face in his hands. "I've been spending the last two weeks talking with him and the producer and the guys to see what might work best for production. They want us involved in as much of the writing and filming part as possible. And he had time in his schedule to come to a show last night, so we all took him out after so he could get a taste of what it's like for us. He's really excited for the role and all of us are really excited for the movie."

Steve felt stupid. Well, maybe not stupid. His feelings were valid and he wasn't dramatic about what he'd seen.

But he did feel a little shitty about doubting Eddie.

Eddie, who had literally flown across the country to explain in person so that there was no way Steve could misunderstand him. Eddie, who once Doordashed him soup from his favorite restaurant when he was sick even though he was in Europe. Eddie, who sent letters to the kids in his class once a month to talk about how important music is and following your dreams. Eddie, who loved him for ten years and wouldn't have let anyone get in the way of what they'd built.

Steve fell against Eddie, buried his face in his neck and his hands in his shirt. Eddie's arms wrapped around him, his voice saying something against his shoulder. Steve couldn’t hear him, but he didn’t think he needed to.

He just needed to feel him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said against his neck. Tears soaked the hoodie under him, and Steve could feel tears against his own button down. “I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Eddie shook his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone until the article hit, but I was still gonna call you and warn you but I didn’t and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. This is part of the whole lifestyle. I should be used to it,” Steve shuddered as Eddie’s hand scratched at his scalp. “I should’ve reacted better.”

“We both didn’t treat this the way we should’ve.”

Steve snorted, nodded as he found the spot Eddie had tattooed on his neck a couple years earlier. He pressed his lips over the tattoo of his lip print.

“You flew across the country over this,” Steve pulled away and looked at Eddie, vision blurred from crying. “Just to make things okay.”

“I needed you to know. I needed to hold you. I needed to have you in front of me. And I wanted to celebrate the fact that we’re getting a movie about our lives,” Eddie smirked. “I wonder who will play you. Someone with a nice ass is a must. Their hair will have to defy gravity. Don’t know if they’ll find anyone with that smile, though.”

“Me? Why would they need anyone to play me?” Steve played with the string of the hoodie. “That might be kinda boring.”

“How would they make a movie about me and not include you? You’re the reason I ever made it past Hawkins, sweet thing,” Eddie leaned in to kiss his bottom lip. “Maybe they’ll just cast you. No one else could pull it off.”

“Eds-“ Steve blushed. “Wait. Okay, I trust you, but what were you doing in the picture?”

Eddie laughed. “He had just finished telling me about his boyfriend who lives in Italy. He’s apparently just a regular guy in finance who has no interest in the whole fame thing. Sound familiar?”

“Sounds like you two have a lot in common.”

“The picture was me asking if we could crash at their home in Italy next summer on our honeymoon,” Eddie said casually.

Steve froze. “Honeymoon?”

“I’m open to other places, but you still haven’t been to Italy and I know how much you wanted to see Rome and Florence,” Eddie was smirking.

That bastard.

“You are ridiculous, you know that? I’m over here planning how I’ll survive a breakup with you and you fly across the country to propose with a honeymoon planned before I’ve even said yes! You know how crazy that sounds, right?” Steve shook his head. “You’re lucky I love you. You’re lucky I’m not interested in big romantic gestures.”

“Damn. Hold on, let me make a call,” Eddie reached into his pocket for his phone.

“What?”

“I gotta cancel the big romantic gesture,” Eddie explained as he typed furiously on his phone.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It was a whole thing. Robin was involved. There may have been 500 flowers ordered. I think it’s too late to cancel the singing telegram though.”

“I genuinely can’t tell if you’re being serious,” Steve wouldn’t be surprised if at least some of that was true.

“Oh, I’m serious. The ring was being set on the bed in the middle of a heart made of rose petals. I didn’t half-ass a fucking thing, angel.”

Steve pulled his phone out of his hands and set it on his desk. “Don’t cancel anything. I changed my mind. I am very much into big romantic gestures when it’s you doing them.”

“It was a team effort. I mean, I had to move it all up unexpectedly, but this was all gonna happen next month when I came home." Eddie pulled Steve into a long kiss, tongue tracing his lips. He pulled away to rest their foreheads together. "I'm not doing this just because of what happened, but I need you to know you're it for me. You've stuck by me through failing senior year, through being broke trying to book gigs all over the midwest, through the stress of our first album being released and the unexpected overnight fame, every album and tour since then, every time I've had to miss things that matter to you because of the band, all of it. You love me anyway. I don't always deserve it, but I'm grateful."

Steve's lips pressed against Eddie's again. "I love the life we have. I love you."

"I'm not asking you without the ring. I made so many plans. Robin will murder me in my sleep if I don't go through with them," Eddie laughed. "So can we get out of your classroom before I do something inappropriate and get you fired?"

"I mean," Steve glanced at the clock. "Technically all the students should be gone. We could lock the door..."

"Steven Harrington! How dare you suggest I fuck you over your desk in a school! I can't believe you would tell me to unbutton your jeans," he said as he unbuttoned his jeans. "And get on my knees." He got on his knees. "And suck you until you can't stand anymore."

"Eddie!" Steve chuckled, shoving his hand in Eddie's hair. "We should at least lock the door."

"So you're not saying no?"

"Why would I say no?"

"That's what I'm saying!" Eddie got back up and ran to the door, flipping the lock and turning back to Steve with flushed cheeks. "This is like, maybe three of my biggest fantasies in one, so I may actually come in my pants."

"You're ridiculous."

"Baby boy, my hand is my only friend on tour, you know that. How can I possibly hold myself back when I've got your dick in my mouth?" Eddie dropped to his knees again, looking up at Steve with something close to reverence.

"It's not in your mouth yet," Steve smirked as he tugged his waistband down enough to free his cock.

"Oh, I missed you," Eddie said directly to Steve's hard cock. "Steve, I want you to fuck my mouth until I pass out."

"I'm not doing that."

"Okay, well I'll settle for until I have to tap out."

"Fine. But it's not gonna be long for me," Steve shook his head. "Missed you, too."

"The sooner the better, sweetheart."

[staytiny-dreams]

dating streamer! beomgyu (c.bg x reader)

pairing: choi beomgyu x gn! reader

genre: streamer! au, fluff, tiny bit of angst but not really

warnings: some parts focus on covid-19 pandemic if that's a trigger for you, i think that's all but lemme know if you think i missed anything

wc: 3.4k

note: so tired at 3am i accidentally hit the post button when it wasn't ready so if you've already seen this, no you haven't. i'm unsure how it turned out so let me know, i've also never formatted it like this before so any feedback on that lemme know too, and... look forward to the other members versions <33

squeals leave beomgyu as the tension rises, the anticipation of the jumpscare he knows is coming getting the better of him

the chat speeds by

“i thought you were supposed to be good at horror games”

“what happened to beomgyu has no fear”

“we told you you should play fnaf beomie!”

“took you this long to play fnaf?”

beomgyu whines at all the ‘i told you so’ comments

“come on guyssss im so late to this how am i supposed to know you’d be interest-” he cuts himself off with a guttural scream as freddy finally makes his long awaited appearance

seeing the bamtoris laughing at him in the comments he pouts at them

“chat you distracted me okay, i let my guard down because of you!”

his pc pings with a notification and the text to speech reads out “themarcotoyourpolo says ‘HAH you are such a liar beom you would’ve screamed either way’”

when beomgyu was seventeen, he spent his time like every other teenage boy did

playing video games

but sometimes his best friend would come over and he’d pull himself away for a few hours

only to sit with you and watch streamers play other games

honestly you didn't mind when beomgyu played games when you were over

he was entertaining to watch

really entertaining actually

“hey gyu, don't you think you’d be a good streamer?” you suggested one day jokingly.

you both giggled at the little game of ‘yes and’ that followed, planning out an entire future together where beomgyu was rich and famous, and you lived in a mansion together that was just a haven for video games and your friends, but after your little tangent, the thought was dismissed as quickly as it came.

or so you had thought.

a week later, sitting across from each other at the cheapest your favourite restaurant in town, beomgyu brought it back up again.

“do you really think i’d make a good streamer?”

“why are you actually thinking about it?” you snorted, taking a sip of your water thinking he was joking again, but when beomgyu didn't say anything you tilted your head up at him.

“oh shit are you actually thinking about it?” beomgyu gave a noncommittal shrug and picked at his food, staring down at his plate. he refused to look at you until you knocked the table in front of his plate lightly.

“beomie,” you started as he stared at you with wide eyes, “i could watch you play for hours.” you don't think you could ever forget the way his smile took over his face at your words.

and that led to the next few months spent with you and beomgyu on call for hours a day

playing mostly minecraft together although occasionally he’d branch out to other games

you hit all his milestones together

he still remembers the day you first got a double digit view count

excitement flooded through the both of you as the kind soul who raided you spams your comment section

the same day, beomgyu also hit ten followers, prompting you two to make his discord server

whenever you were too busy to join him on stream beomgyu would whine and complain like his life depended on it

more often than not he’d actually end up cancelling the stream for that day

one day you didn't feel well but you decided to sit on call with beomgyu while he streams so that he wouldn't cancel

beomgyu chattered on as he normally does, yelling about how, “beomgyu never dies,” but he noticed that today you were not reciprocating that same energy.

in fact you had been so quiet that he wasn't even sure you were still alive on the other side.

“(y/n)ie are you alive over there? (y/n)? marco?” he asked and ever so faintly he heard a weak ‘polo’ sound throughout his headphones.

“one moment, chat,” he said to his 20 something viewers before deafening on discord and muting his mic.

he wriggled his phone out from where it hid in his pocket, opened your contact and called you. it dialled almost four times before you picked up.

“i’m so sorry, beomie i fell asleep. i really didn't mean to but i-” he cut you off before you could go on.

“are you okay (y/n)ie?”

“to be honest beom, i don't feel very well i-” cutting you off again, beomgyu announced that he would be coming over to cure you before promptly hanging up and ending stream leaving both you and his chatters confused.

turns out, curing you meant bringing you his mothers soup and watching youtube in bed with you until you fell asleep. your burning forehead left patches of sweat on his chest, but he couldn't find it in him to care.

from then on you had a system in place where you would check if the other was still there by calling out “marco”

and if the other person was okay they’d call back “polo”

sometimes you regretted this system on days beomgyu decided you were too quiet and abused the marco-polo system by continually calling out marco like a broken record

a little while after beomgyu turned eighteen, the pandemic started and so followed lockdown

it was a really hard time for beomgyu

you were supposed to be starting college together that year, along with your close friends from high school soobin and taehyun

but now all classes were online and he wasn't allowed to see any of his friends

going from seeing you everyday to never took a toll on beomgyu that he didn't expect

he just hated knowing you were only a few streets away and he couldn't just walk over to you whenever he felt like it

beomie :>: are you looking at the moon rn and wondering if i’m also looking at the moon rn?

ynnie <3: beom we called for six hours today

beomie :>: i know right, i miss you too :((

ynnie <3: omg fine get back on disc lets watch a movie

but with his ray of sunshine by his side, he eventually found his footing in this apocalypse

a lot of his time was spent on call with you

working on your respective assignments

watching your online lectures on 2x speed

any other free time was spent streaming

since everyone was stuck at home, due to his frequent streaming schedule

and infectious energy

beomgyu’s audience quickly grew

going from 1000 followers when lockdown had started to hitting 3000 followers within a few months

taking your advice, he also became more active on his other social medias

even posting clips of his streams on tiktok

a few of which went viral causing his channel to grow substantially again

he also started a youtube channel for those shorter games

or ideas that required more editing to execute than a stream would allow

one day, while checking his twitter dms his eyes almost fell out of his skull

he dialled you immediately

“(y/n) (y/n) (y/n) (y/n) (y/n) (y/n)!”

you took a deep breath in, prepared to repeat his name back to him in the same tone, but you didn't get the chance.

“do not copy me, we do not have time for that, this is a code blue, (y/n), code blue!”

“what on earth is a code blue?”

“big creator dmed me (y/n), come on, we’ve discussed this!”

“we’ve never discussed a code system in our entire life.”

“what that is such a lie, you just never listen to a word i say!”

“well sorry beomgyu if you talk so much nonsense that it's hard to keep up,”

“nonsense? you take that back!” he screeched, but you could only giggle at him.

“i will literally never do that. come on gyu, what’s the code blue?”

“oh, yeah! j-hope messaged me (y/n). he asked if i wanted to join his friends' discord and play among us with them.” you squealed for him, excitement rushing through you.

“oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! beomgyu, what did you say?” suddenly beomgyu felt sheepish, realising he’d just been sitting there with the message open, too busy bickering with you to have responded.

“oh um… well, nothing yet i called you first…” now this time you screeched.

“you left 20 million youtube subscribers, 1.5 million twitch followers jung ho-seok on seen? beomgyu!” you scolded. beomgyu didn't know whether to be afraid or laugh, but his endearment got the better of him and he burst into giggles at your tone.

“don't laugh at me mister, text him back right now and tell him you’d be honoured to play with them!” and as he began to type out a reply to his senior, all beomgyu could think about was how he couldn't wait to have you in his arms again.

joining such big creators in playing among us put beomgyu in contact with even more big creators and had his channel blowing up

he met many new friends including someone who would become one of his closest friends

huening kai

as covid restrictions were eased and tightened again, beomgyu made sure to see you any time he could

but due to social distancing laws, he wasn't able to tackle you in his affection the way he wished

at the end of 2020 the second wave of covid set in

your anxious mother decided that you were not allowed to leave the house until the pandemic was over

beomgyu struggled with this news

his weekly outings walking six feet away from you - but still with you - were helping him hold on to his ray of sunshine

but with your assurance that you'd spend even more time on call with him and watch all his streams, he was able to keep his mood-maker demeanour in front of his fans

“so what are your plans for valentine’s day, (y/n)?” beomgyu asked, already knowing your answer.

with february 14th approaching, beomgyu was kicking himself for not having said anything sooner because your mother still wasn't letting you out of the house and beomgyu wanted to say what he had to say in person

“what do you mean gyu? you know i’ll still be stuck at home.”

“hm… well, maybe we could do a minecraft date, like a valentine's day special.” he suggested tentatively.

“like for your stream?” you asked and he shrugged.

“we don't have to stream.”

“but beom, aren't our friends all having dinner at soobin’s that day? don't you want to join them?” you reminded him and he simply shrugged again.

“don’t want to leave you all alone on valentines day (y/n)ie.” your face felt hot. you loved your mother to pieces, but sometimes her self imposed covid restrictions really got on your nerves.

and then march came, and for the first time in twelve years you feared you wouldn't be able to spend beomgyu’s birthday with him

“mum please, i’ll do anything,” you begged, “legally four people are allowed at an indoor private gathering.”

“and what if someone there has covid (y/n)? you have asthma it could really affect you!”

“it’s only going to be gyu, soobin and taehyun. you know all of them, you trust them! plus we’re all going to test before we go!”

“and what about transport, (y/n), what if you catch it on the bus?”

“i’ll take a taxi.”

“and what if the taxi driver has it? or what if you get in the car with a bad driver or a kidnapper?”

“mum! where is all this coming from? please. it’s beomgyu’s birthday, i can't miss beomgyu’s birthday. i swear i will never ask to go out again. just please let me go see him tomorrow.” tears welled up in your eyes. you hated fighting with your mother, but you couldn't let beomgyu down like that.

but the fight was all worth it when you knocked on soobin’s door the next night and beomgyu opened it.

he pulled you inside and slammed the door shut before squeezing you tight to his chest.

“you're here?” he asked, voice muffled as it was buried in your shoulder.

“happy birthday beom,” you smiled, arms tight around his stomach.

he pulled away from your hug and before you could joke about how your mother would never let you see the light of day again, beomgyu pulled down your mask and pressed his lips to yours.

two seconds passed where you stood still, wide eyed in shock before you registered what was happening and jumped into action.

one of his hands still held your mask, and the other came down to your cheek which you’re sure must’ve been burning him from how hot your face felt. you followed his lead, grabbing his shoulder with one hand and pushing your other through the hair at the bottom of his neck.

too soon, beomgyu pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.

“i’m sorry (y/n). i wanted to wait, until after lockdown, i wanted to talk to you first but i saw you and i just-”

“i love you beomgyu.” you cut off his rambling and he let out a flustered laugh.

“i love you too (y/n), i love you so much.”

due to covid still ongoing and your mother’s strict rules, you and beomgyu decided to take things slow after that night

there were no more meetings in person as you kept your promise to your mother

nothing much in your relationship with beomgyu changed due to your agreement to take things slow

he flirted a little here and there but there were no new pet names or anything of the sort

beomgyu continued to focus his energy on streaming and you continued to focus on your studies

beomgyu’s streams always providing the perfect background noise

but don't tell him that you don't devote a thousand percent of your attention to him at all times

luckily as 2022 approached, your mother began to let beomgyu visit your home provided he wore a mask in common places and if he had any symptoms he did not come over

and in april 2022 most legal restrictions were lifted

with your second booster vaccination, your mother lifted your house arrest

it had been over a year since you confessed your feelings to each other and your 20th birthday approached

you both had a big discussion about giving your relationship a real try

beomgyu now had almost half a million followers on twitch

after grinding for two years, he now had a rather large fan base

you expressed that you were a bit worried about having your relationship public to them

beomgyu didn't quite understand your concern as you had been participating in his streams and been a prevalent figure on his social media since the beginning

however, respecting your wishes, you both worked to keep the romantic nature of your relationship between yourselves and your close friends.

while beomgyu seemed to have found his schtick after 3 years of streaming

playing horror games on stream and co-op games with you for his youtube channel

and the occasional vlog

the friends he had made playing among us, huening kai, ho-seok and jungkook had begged him to join a minecraft server and stream with them

so with your encouragement

and his conditions that his partner and best friends also join the server

beomgyu joined the bighit smp started by kim namjoon

it was only a few months after you officially started dating

just before his 21st birthday and both of your fourth and final years in college

when beomgyu came to you with his proposition

“move in together?”

“is it too soon? i know we've only technically been dating a few months, but-” you cut beomgyu off with a hand on his mouth.

he stared at you wide eyed for a split second before his expression changed. luckily, you recognised the suspicious sparkle in his eye and removed your hand from his face before he could lick it, leaving him pouting at you.

“don’t look at me like that,” you giggled but his pout only deepened and he reached over to grab the hand that was previously on his face.

“so? what do you think? you wanna live with me?”

“hmm… i think…”

“(y/n)…” he whined, dragging out your name.

“i think we’ll need to find a place with an extra bedroom, so you can stream in there and not in our room.”

living with a horror streamer

most days of the week it's fun

a substantial income

your boyfriend’s always home

your boyfriend is practically fearless… in theory

okay maybe he’s only fearless when it’s fictional media

even a little bit of clout, not that it matters to you

as you always have, you tend to join beomgyu and your other friends when they play minecraft in the bighit smp

as well as being in all of beomgyu’s vlogs

since you moved in together, you decided it was best to come clean to bamtoris (his fans) about your relationship

they were very supportive

due to your presence in his channel from the beginning, there were some long time shippers who were more than pleased to hear this news

and maybe a little cocky, plastering ‘i told you’ so posts all over their socials

yes, the beomy/n truthers were very pleased

of course there were those who were convinced he was dating other streamers

or those who shipped him with his other friends, soobin and taehyun

and just general psychos who simply hated you because he wasn't dating them

nevertheless you both saw the relationship reveal as a success

so sometimes you go and sit with beomgyu while he streams, just as you used to sit on call with him

but this particular wednesday night was a tough one

you’d been up late the night before working on your final project for college

then worked from 7 to 5 even though you were originally rostered for only 7 to 12

your head was pounding

and tonight, despite the soundproofing you had installed on the walls of the office

his shouts still reached your tired ears and made your head ache

you tossed and turned for a while, not wanting to ask beomgyu to quiet down as he was clearly having fun

but, after an hour of not being able to sleep you decided you were being stupid

beomgyu would never be upset with you for not feeling well

so you rolled out of bed, padded over to his door and knocked lightly, then cracked the door open

the light from the hall spilled into the room and caused beomgyu to look over at you with a smile

his hair was fluffy and his face was lit up by his screen and his purple leds and he just looked so soft

and before you could say anything, your face crumpled

and a few tears slipped down your cheeks

immediately muting his mic, beomgyu threw his headphones off and ran over to you at the door.

“baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, pulling you into his arms and you laughed at yourself.

“sorry, this is so stupid, i dont even know why im crying.” you mumble into his chest.

that night beomgyu ended his stream early and laid in bed with his arms wrapped tightly around you, whispering how much he loves you

and how whenever you wanted him to be quiet or even end stream he’d do it in a heartbeat

but, if you're not sick, busy or streaming with beomgyu, you're still watching his streams

and sending silly comments

you are simultaneously his favourite and least favourite chatter

your comments always make him laugh but are often at his expense

“themarcotoyourpolo says ‘poor baby, so scared of a big teddy bear’”

“you know what (y/n), get your ass in here, we'll put the headphones on you and see how confident you are then!”

but knowing you're in his chat has always given him comfort

and made him a smidge happier to be there

if beomgyu ever had zero viewers it'd be because you died and he knew that

even then if you ever wanted him to turn his computer off and hang out with you, he’d come running

at the end of the day, whether beomgyu’s screaming at his computer screen or peacefully cooking dinner with you, he is the love of your life and you wouldnt change a thing

[motocorsas]

motogp as restaurant staff

management:

valentino: the kind of owner that likes to occasionally show up just to sit in his office in the back and pretend to do paperwork while gossiping with managers about hiring decisions

aleix: kitchen manager (used to work the grill)

dovi: used to be assistant/hiring manager but quit </3. still shows up to chat and have a beer sometimes and ppl are always trying to give him free stuff but he's too humble

dani: used to be front of house manager. had a secret tryst with lorenzo that the entire restaurant found out about and resulted in a slow motion mega-breakup and they both got fired

lorenzo: used to be kitchen manager (see above)

marc: neurotic lead server/front of house manager who is always stressed about something but customers love him. threatens to quit all the time

front of house:

pecco: the actual best server but is always getting shit bc vale (a "family friend" who is basically his father) got him the job

joan: server who disappears for 15-30 minute increments to go have mini breakdowns

fabio: server who shows up for opening shift & everyone saw him partying on instagram last night but he doesn't seem hungover so he keeps getting scheduled for it anyway even though it is secretly killing him

bezz: server who is super popular with costumers but forgets orders more than anyone

luca: host who can do no wrong

enea: host who is ALWAYS getting shit from the servers for overseating their section but he doesn't care

maverick: lead bartender who knows how to work basically every station in the kitchen

jack: second bartender/barback who really wants to learn grill but aleix won't promote him bc he knows jack and maverick used to have a thing when they were literal teenagers & he's obsessed with playing with his coworkers like dolls. he doesn't even rly want them to get back together he just wants to see how long this weird animosity will go on for

back of house:

taka: easily the best cook but is never scheduled for more than 2 or 3 days per week. no one has any idea what his main job is, but if he's this good at his side hustle, it's gotta be something insane

morb: cook (can work grill & saute interchangeably) who never shows up on time and never answers texts but basically can't be fired because he's one of the best cooks, always helps clean and never calls out

jorge: grill cook who everyone thinks might actually be dating aleix since they go for breaks together all the time but aleix for sure has a wife and children... everyone's gathered around the backdoor listening to them chat outside trying to deduce whether or not adultery is occurring

brad: actual best grill cook and Good Bloke

alex rins: salads & cold apps. bc he's vegetarian. always shows up early to chat with aleix and stays late to help clean up but no one ever hears from him on days he's not scheduled. always claims he's hanging out with aleix and jorge but cannot substantiate it

alex marquez: king of expo who is the only one sending orders out on time. if marc is running an order they will always whisper with each other... who knows what they're discussing

diggia: dishwasher extraordinaire who desperately wants to work literally any other station

oliveira: meal prep. runs the walk-in like he was born in it and has the best gossip about everyone

zarco: butcher (derogatory)

spanish rookies (raul, augusto, pedro): the busboy brigade and ALWAYS scurrying around and it's unclear whether they like each other or if they've turned bussing into some sort of competition

[magicfootballstuff]

Communication (patri guijarro x reader)

You first meet Patri at national camp.

She’s a couple of years older than you, already well established on the international stage as part of the talented Spanish side. Most significantly, she’s good friends with Pina from playing together at Barcelona. At that first national camp, you end up rooming with Pina, who you’ve known since you first played together in the under 17s, and when she introduces you to Patri on your first night, you’re suddenly friends with her too.

So it all starts because of Claudia, but soon you and Patri are hanging out just the two of you, and then texting each other outside of national camps when she returns to Barcelona and you to Atletico Madrid.

It starts getting flirty sometime between your second and third national camps. It’s a lot easier to flirt when the person you’re flirting with is five hundred kilometers away and on the other end of a text rather than in person. It’s only when you turn up to that third camp and see Patri again and realise that this is an actual person you’ve been flirting with, that you worry if you’ve overstepped a boundary.

It turns out that you haven’t. Patri makes sure that the boundary is completely torn down when she sneaks you into her room on the first night of camp while her roommate Alexia is out and kisses you senseless.

So that’s how it continues. You keep texting Patri during the club season, though your messages get a little more heated now you’ve added a physical aspect too. And then, every few weeks you reunite at national camp, where your week away is full of stolen kisses and clandestine hookups in secluded corners while all your teammates are occupied elsewhere.

Nobody knows it’s happening, not even Pina.

The biggest obstacle turns out not to be the pressure of keeping it a secret, or the confusing prospect of trying to figure out if there are deeper feelings or if it’s just a bit of fun, but the Spanish Federation. When that drama plays out and suddenly you and Patri no longer have those occasional national camps to look forward to, it’s a lot harder to keep the intermittent flirting going without the promise of sex on the horizon.

You talk vaguely about instead using your newfound free time during one of the international breaks to spend some time together without the usual risk of being caught at any moment by a Spanish teammate - maybe she can visit Madrid for a few days or you can travel to Barcelona. But inevitably other things come up instead and it never happens.

Before you know it, months have passed, you and Patri have drifted apart and the flirtatious texting stops too.

It is what it is.

It was unlikely to ever be an epic romance, instead just a bit of fun. But as time passes and you don’t replace your casual relationship with Patri with anything else, you find yourself starting to miss her.

You could text her. It would be as easy as that, but you don’t know what to say, nor what the intention behind the message would be. Besides, Barcelona is a little bit too far away for a booty call.

The other side of Madrid, however, is not too far. It’s been a couple of months since you’ve spoken to Patri, other than the occasional like on an Instagram post, but you get a message the day before Atletico will be hosting Barcelona in the league.

Patri You free later?

You roll your eyes and stifle a laugh when you see the text from Patri. The Barcelona team are staying in Madrid tonight and you wonder how soon after arriving Patri waited before messaging you.

You Yeah why?

Patri Just thought we could catch up if you want?

You send back an agreement, and are just about to suggest a local cafe to grab a bite to eat, when another message comes through with the name of the hotel where the Barcelona team are staying and Patri’s room number, which leaves very little doubt about the nature of the catching up that Patri wants to do.

You debate whether or not to show up. On one hand, you miss her. But are you really desperate enough to sneak into the Barcelona hotel the night before your big game against them just for a hookup?

———

The answer is yes, you are that desperate.

And if it wasn’t already bad enough, you only feel more embarrassed about your desperation when Patri meets you round the back of the hotel, sneaks you in through a fire exit, and smuggles you up to her room without any of her teammates spotting you.

It’s a twin room, and you recognise the stuff on the other bed as Claudia’s.

“Where’s Pina?”

“She went with some of the girls to explore the city,” Patri explains. “We’ve got a couple of hours before they get back.”

There’s no doubt in your mind how Patri is hoping to pass the time, but you can’t help but feel a little awkward, having not seen or even really spoken to her in months.

“Are we still doing this?” you ask.

Patri frowns.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“It’s just that we haven’t really talked much recently and then suddenly you’re inviting me to your hotel room.”

“I miss you,” says Patri, reaching out to take your hand, and you let her slide her fingers between your own. “I know I haven’t been good at staying in touch, neither of us have, but I really wanted to see you.”

“You’ll see me tomorrow,” you point out.

“That’s not the same.”

You know she’s right. Maybe that’s why you came to Patri’s hotel. You never would have been satisfied with a pleasant exchange of hellos after tomorrow’s match under the watchful gaze of both squads and thousands of fans.

“Do you really miss me?” you ask. “Or do you miss having sex with me?”

Patri smiles sheepishly and says, “Can the answer be both? Of course I miss you. I think about you all the time.”

You’re still not sure if Patri is just telling you what you want to hear, but your mind is a little clouded by her presence. She steps closer, her thumb tracing distracting patterns across the back of your hand.

“You look really good,” she murmurs.

“I put on my nicest pair of sweatpants, just for you,” you joke.

“Maybe I can help you take them off again.”

Patri pulls you closer and your free hand instinctively finds her waist. She’s so close you can smell her and it’s intoxicating, drawing you in like it hasn’t been months since you last did this.

The door crashes open and you jump apart, standing almost on opposite sides of the room by the time you turn around to see Claudia entering through the door.

“I forgot my…” Claudia trails off when she sees you in her room, standing as far away from Patri as you can possibly manage. “Oh my God!”

She launches herself at you, throwing her arms around your neck, and you stumble backwards slightly under the force of her hug. You wrap your arms around her too, having completely forgotten that it’s been months since you saw your best friend as well as Patri.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

Over Claudia’s shoulder, you make eye contact with Patri, who wears an expression of panic on her face at the prospect of getting found out, and you improvise a lie instead.

“I came to see you,” you tell Claudia. “I missed you and I thought we could hang out before the game tomorrow.”

Claudia pulls out of the hug and looks at you with narrowed eyes.

“How did you know where to find me?”

“I told her,” Patri finally speaks up, choosing to go along with your lie.

“Yeah, I wanted to surprise you so I asked for Patri’s help.”

Claudia stays quiet and you think for sure that you’re going to get found out. The expression of guilt on Patri’s face at being interrupted is a dead giveaway and you hope it’s not mirrored on your own face.

Eventually, after what seems like an eternity where you feel like Claudia is somehow telepathically absorbing every second you’ve ever spent with Patri, she seems to accept your story and grins at you.

“I’m so happy to see you,” she tells you. She grabs a wallet from the table beside her bed and holds it up. “I’m going to explore the city with some of the other girls but I forgot this. Do you want to come with us? You can show us around!”

You glance over at Patri, who looks back at you with defeat on her face that matches the ache in your chest. You’re so happy to see your best friend again, but you want to hang out with Patri right now, even though you know it’s no longer possible after spinning your lies to hide the true reason for your visit.

“Sure,” you agree, shooting Patri an apologetic look.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” Claudia asks Patri.

Patri seems to consider it for a brief second, a second in which you get your hopes up that maybe you can spend a bit of time catching up with her anyway, even if it’s not in the way you both originally planned, before she shakes her head.

“Nah, I’ll stay here. The analysts sent me some clips I need to watch to prepare for the game. But I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She phrases the last part as a question and directs it at you.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

———

Claudia seems to have bought the lie, or at least that’s what you think when you face no further comments about your unexpected appearance in her hotel room. That is, until you see each other again the next day, when both teams are checking out the conditions on the pitch in the empty stadium a couple of hours before the game.

“So, you and Patri, huh?” Claudia asks, picking a moment when you’re both out of earshot of any teammates to spring the question on you.

You heart stops momentarily in your chest, your face paling as you realise what she’s asking, and you make a split-second decision to play dumb.

“I don’t … what are you talking about?”

“Stop messing around, she told me everything last night,” Claudia says, shaking her head. “Don’t blame her, I knew something was up and forced it out of her. Did you really think I’d believe that you were in my room yesterday to surprise me?”

“It’s only a bit of fun,” you shrug. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“That’s not what she said.”

Your head jerks up suddenly, turning to Claudia as you ask almost breathlessly, “She didn’t?”

“Ha!” Pina says triumphantly. “No, it’s exactly what she said, but now I know from your reaction that you want it to be something more.”

You groan. Trust Pina to be able to squeeze the truth out of you.

“I’m fine with it being casual,” you insist. “Would I like it to be more than that? Yes, probably. But if we can’t make long distance work when we’re just sleeping together then I don’t have much hope for a relationship.”

“Talk to her,” Claudia advises you. “She’s been in a really quiet mood all day - it’s actually a little bit weird - but I’m pretty sure she’s got you on her mind.”

You look over at Patri, who stands near the halfway line with a few of her Barcelona teammates. She does seem to be quieter than usual, deep in thought as the others chat animatedly around her. Part of you wants to go over and say hi, maybe even apologise for the fact you didn’t get to spend any time together last night, because if you don’t speak to her before she travels back to Barcelona after the match then it’ll be another few months of barely texting each other before you see her again.

“Wow,” Pina says, jolting you out of your thoughts. “How did I miss this before? You’re like a lovesick puppy.”

“Stop,” you groan. “I’m not that bad.”

———

The game finishes with Barcelona winning three goals to one. Patri gets one of Barcelona’s goals and you score Atletico’s.

You shake hands with Patri after the game and exchange a brief hug but there’s no chance for an actual conversation, so you shower and change in record time, before loitering in the corridor outside the away team changing room in the hope of catching Patri for a quick chat before she gets on the bus and you inevitably don’t see her for another few months.

Alexia is the first person who leaves the Barcelona changing room, having travelled to support the team despite her injury, and she smiles when she sees you.

“Hey, is Patri around?”

“Let me just check.”

Alexia disappears back into the changing room and returns thirty second later.

“Give her a couple of minutes, she’s just come out of the shower,” Alexia tells you.

You hang around outside the changing rooms and soon players from both teams start to emerge ready to depart the stadium. Your head jerks up each time the door the Barcelona changing room opens, and after about five minutes, it’s finally Patri who steps out, hair still wet and pulling a hoodie over her head.

“Hey,” she says.

You lead the way down the corridor, away from the two changing rooms so you can get enough privacy to have a conversation without being interrupted or eavesdropped, and Patri follows you.

“Congratulations on the win,” you tell her. “You played really well.”

“So did you.”

The silence that hangs between you is awkward, and you wonder if Patri is thinking about last night too, and the strange place you left your conversation after Pina’s unexpected interruption.

“So, uh, Pina told me…”

“She interrogated me,” Patri cuts in. “I know I should have checked with you before telling anybody, but…”

“Hey, it’s fine,” you reassure her. “Claudia’s my best friend. To be honest, I wanted to tell her for a while but didn’t know how you felt about that.”

“We’re not very good at communication, are we?” Patri admits.

You laugh softly and say, “No, we’re not. But speaking of communication, there’s something I need to say to you.”

“Yeah?”

You take a deep breath to prepare for what you’re about to say, then jump in headfirst.

“I don’t want this to be just some casual thing that happens at camp or when we both happen to be in the same city,” you tell Patri. “I don’t want you to sneak me into your hotel the night before a game, or to lie to our friends about where we are or what we’re doing. I want to visit you in Barcelona on my days off, I want to introduce you to my family, I want to try to make something real of this.”

You pause, waiting to see if Patri says anything and when she doesn’t, her face unreadable too, you continue.

“If that’s not what you want, that’s fine. But if you only want this to be something casual, then I can’t do it anymore.”

“Will you be my girlfriend?” Patri blurts out.

The question takes you by surprise. Though you’d hoped she would be in agreement about making this more than just a friends with benefits situation, you hadn’t expected her to be quite so forward.

“Seriously?” you ask, arching an eyebrow. “Without even taking me on a date first?”

Patri’s face falls.

“Shit, I didn’t mean…”

You can’t keep a straight face and break into a huge grin.

“I’m messing with you. Of course I’ll be your girlfriend.”

The apology drops off Patri’s face and she slaps you playfully on the arm.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yes, but now I’m officially your asshole.”

You let Patri wrap you up in her arms and tilt your head to kiss her for the first time as your girlfriend. The excitement is still there, but instead of it coming from the thrill of trying not to get caught, it’s at the prospect of everything to come as you start to build your relationship together. She kisses you back, hands dropping to your hips as she holds you close. You lose yourself in the moment, completely forgetting that you’re kissing in the very public corridor just outside the dressing rooms, until a shriek from down the hall alerts you to the fact that you’ve been interrupted by Claudia for the second time in consecutive days.

You break apart, though you reach down to connect your hand with Patri’s, something which doesn’t go unnoticed by Pina as she approaches you.

“Wait, so does this mean…?”

You look across at Patri and share a smile, before you answer.

“We’re giving it a go.”

“Oh my god, yes!” exclaims Pina. She forces herself between you both, breaking apart your joined hands as she wraps an arm around each of your waists and leads all three of you down the corridor. “My two best friends are dating! This is the best news ever, I’ve never been happier to be a third wheel. And before you ask, yes I will be taking all the credit.”

You share an amused look with Patri over the top of Claudia’s head but say nothing. There’ll be plenty of time to start building your new relationship with Patri later. You’ll let Claudia have this moment.

[psychicreadsgirl]

Can you do jungkook as a boyfriend? Thanks 🥰

He's similar to the one I did for Mingyu. You can check that reading out.

Jungkook would brag more about his partners to his friends and some colleagues and show their photos/videos to them. Jungkook likes the feeling of being popular.

I'm honestly seeing mostly physical aspects of relationships, so ... this reading is rated R. Read at your discretion.

Jungkook also has this strong desire to make the partner have his baby. He doesn't want to actually raise the child though and be a father. He just wants his legacy to continue, sort of like Elon Musk. Jungkook doesn't like to use protection because he enjoys that feeling of releasing into his partner.

Jungkook also has very strong physical needs/desires so nearly all dates will have some physical aspect to them. He likes embarrassing his partner and seeing them struggle/squirm. He also likes filming these things. I see that he likes to choke his partner and do some intense/extreme play involving pain. He should be careful because someone could end up really hurt/dead during sex. He likes to test the extremes and push the limits so safe words aren't really implemented. So many things that are rated R he probably has all done - whatever genre you think of he probably has done.

He doesn't really gift his partners much. He gives them stuff from his brother's company or gifts that he receives from others like PR stuff etc. He does say some sweet things like you're so cute, you're so pretty, you're the one I'm going to marry, you're my only one, to his partners.

He has very specific "targets". He's the type that the harder you play to get the more he'll want you. He can do a lot to make you fall for him like mold himself into your type. He can cook for you. He can send you tons of caring text messages and be your morning alarm. Then once he has conquered you and has experienced you/knows all of you, he'll move on.

Oh one thing I suddenly am having pictures in my head of is that he likes to go on weverse live or IG live or something live and then he also likes to have a partner somewhere in that live. They'll probably be like in the room that he's doing the live. There'll be some implications of rated R stuff ; he may say some stuff that's actually meant for the partner to hear. This sort of riskiness excites him a lot.

Most of his dates are going to be at his place or his partner's place or another friend's place or at some party/club. I do occasionally see some dates outdoors like at a park very late at night or at some mountain very late at night and those also involve some rated R stuff. I'm pretty sure H&be has done a lot to cover up his tracks.

He does like to give each of his partners some token or some little gift to symbolize that they are his. He'll also want them to post/wear those items like on IG or tiktok or whatever social media platform. Or he likes to make them have a piercing or tattoo on them like prove you love me then you tattoo or pierce yourself. He does like to take some item that's precious to the partner as his. Perhaps it's a stuffed toy or a piece of clothing or jewellery or a picture etc. Even when the relationship ends, he'll revisit that item to trigger memories of the rated R moments.

He isn't really the type to text much once he and his partner are dating. He also isn't really the type to call much too for deep conversations.

I do see a lot of his partners thinking that they'll be his only one and that he'll marry them. Some who have realized that they are not his only one are very upset and frustrated. They feel very powerless because even if they were to reveal what happened, no one would believe them and in a way they feel like they consented to everything bc they loved them at one point.

[six-eyed-samurai]

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This relationship should not be condoned and was only written for entertainment purposes. Dark content like kidnapping and stalking is in here, so don't read if it makes you uncomfortable. Minors, scat and shoo and scram! Also the song is All I Want Is You by Rebzyyx in case you're wondering

I know what you want, girl

The ping on your phone had you clicking the Instagram notification in surprise, not expecting any activity due to you not posting your latest video yet. Did you text anyone recently? Not that you remembered. It was probably just a new follower; a smalltime cover artist like you didn’t expect much so you took what you could get.

It was not just a new follower.

Your eyes widened to the size of saucers. He of all people had followed you back?

Swooning internally, you double checked to be sure. You had discovered a new singer not too long ago that suited your tastes perfectly, from the genre to music he produced to his voice, quickly becoming a fan of his. Your last video had even been a cover of one of his hits.

Speaking of that video, he had left a comment and a like: Flattered you chose my song, looking forward to see more of these phenomenal covers.

Let me be the one to

At first you were convinced it was his publicity team at work, or that was something generic he’d say on every cover of his music. You weren’t that good of a singer or that famous of a star to be noticed by him.

Then he privately texted you on Instagram.

It was the usual topics at first. You fangirled, he accepted, you asked about his life, he answered vaguely, you wanted spoilers for his next project, he dropped hints, you joked about getting tips on how to improve your covers and he responded with beyond that. With compliments, even.

Somehow this spawned whatever weird friendship you both shared.

Hold your hand forever

Time went on and while you never actually met physically your relationship improved with each meme that you’d message and every song recommendation he’d send. He followed all your socials and gave you a little shoutout on his posts occasionally, leaving you kicking your feet in glee.

(How’d he find your other accounts, you weren’t too sure, but it was probably because you used the same profile picture for all of them, heh.)

Texts progressed to calls and calls progressed to the day you both released a cover of a duet together. His fans went crazy; some were upset their favorite artist was supposedly no longer single, but most were wild with speculation of who his “girl” was.

Your friends needless to say went berserk. You laughed them off, citing with a blush you both were just friends. Friends with a literal celebrity who decided to make nice with some nameless nobody.

Okay, it’d be lies to say the thought of him and you as a couple didn’t get your heart hammering and your body basically reacting as if you had swallowed an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies.

That’s just silly! You guys haven’t even met in real life!

We’d be good together

About a few months into your strange relationship with him you’d have to retract that statement when he casually texted you one day out of the blue: hey, coming to your part of the world soon, wanna meet up?

By then you both were already in the calling stage (and by calling that meant hitting that dial button at the most random of times just to tell him about that cute cat you saw or him to complain about his manager hounding him as usual), so without thinking about where you were or where he might be you slammed your finger so hard onto the screen you heard a crack, although whether it came from the phone or your finger you couldn’t tell.

“Are you serious? Don’t shit with me about this!”

“Hey, why would I joke about this?”

Your friends were practically slack-jawed and green tinged with envy the next day when you delightedly announce the meet up at the cafe he wanted to try out after hearing you blabber about it so many times a couple of day after his tour would start.

I'll make you feel special

He was just as nice as he was online, nothing like you had feared at all; he pulled out the chair for you, offered a bite of his food and a sip of his drink, even paying for the meal with an insouciant shrug and “Hey, you chose the place.”

Damn, why couldn’t all guys be like him?

He had pulled enough strings to score you both a more private, secluded booth at the back where he would be less likely to be noticed by bothersome fans, and the way he was staring at you right now that was making you blush so made it clear he only wanted his attention on you and yours him. To think he wanted to hang out like this again! With you of all people, some nobody fan!

“Are you hearing yourself right now?” His smooth voice rang out in laughter. “If any of my fans or paparazzi heard that you’d be so attacked right now. Not to sound arrogant, but I don’t just start chatting to anybody, y’know?”

Help you feel less stressful

“Yeah, well, but, I’m not that special.” You ducked your head shyly, but suddenly it was tilted up by his index finger so you’d look at him (oh god, did he just do that?!).

“Hey, plenty of things to like about you. I like your taste in music, your covers, your voice, your restraint not to fangirl too hard, your - let’s just say I like the way you make me feel like I’m some normal person out on a date with an amazing person and not a harassed celebrity.”

Harassed celebrity and a convict soon, because you were probably going to die from how fast your heart was beating. Or embarrassment as you spluttered and he laughed. Laughed.

“Plenty of other things too I won’t tell for now.” He winked and his lips split into a sincere smile.

You peek through your hands covering your red face. Sincere, yeah, but something prickled at the back of your neck. The smile was a little too wide and close to your face, triumphant in a predatory way that seemed nothing like a guy who managed to get his date flustered would wear.

Maybe someone would wear that sly, possessive smile when they-

“Anyways, where to now?”

Fix the holes in your heart

Your friends were a little more understanding when you both were meeting physically, now that you think of it. They didn’t kick up such a fuss when you cancelled several outings or didn’t pick up your phone during the outings with him, respecting that he would be leaving soon and you both wanted to spend as much time with each other as much as possible. They bore through you dragging them off to every single of his concerts with the overused promise of free tickets and best seats pretty well too.

But when his tour ended and admittedly you started spending a hell lot of time on your phone texting and calling and updating him on every single damn thing that went on in your life, according to your exasperated friends. It was practically spamming at this point, they insisted.

Naturally you got defensive and it ended in one big fight you were really regretting now, hiding under your mound of blankets and talking it over with him.

It's what I wanted from the start

>>I think I need to cut down on my time talking to you tbh

>>I needa think about my other friends too

>>also i’ve been really distracted lately so yeah

>>I hope that’s okay with you? pls don’t get offended

what’s wrong with focusing all your attention on me?<<

let’s not forget who was there for you when that date stood you up<<

or who sent you cash when you couldn’t pay back the apartment repairs<<

or who helped you boost your earnings making covers<<

are you really dumping me for them?<<

I thought we were friends<<

more than friends.<<

I got mental issues

You bit your lip. This wasn’t how you had expected it to go at all. Now every single one of your friends were mad at you. God, you had really screwed up, hadn’t you?

And he was still typing.

you’re the only one who makes me feel like a normal person, not some chased idol with unrealistic expectations everywhere<<

is it so bad that i can’t let you go?<<

>>no, no, it’s not like that

>>I just need some space

>>I’m still your friend, I just need to figure out a way to split my time evenly between you guys

>>please understand

Please understand, you pleaded in your head. You didn’t like the weird feeling (chills down your spine? goosebumps?) that came with every cold, fuming text of his.

Always fxxkin’ miss you

…fine<<

but I can still talk to you right??<<

gonna miss you a lot ngl<<

>>ofc!

>>ty for being so understanding

Happy that it was so easily blown over, you grinned and began to work on texting an apology to your friends and an invite to get together tomorrow. They weren’t the type to hold grudges and soon enough all of you were teasing each other about being punctual and not end up in the wrong bar the next day.

Weren’t the type to hold grudges, yes, but even your best friend of many years began to side eye you when your phone began to ping nonstop. Nonstop as in endlessly for about five minutes straight with absolutely no break in between. It frankly freaked all of you out and now you were very, very alarmed at whatever was happening to it.

“Shit, maybe it’s one of those spam callers! Go block them!”

At your friend’s words you panicked further and quickly opened up your phone.

Hah, you weren’t that naive to think that he’d accept your words just like that, were you?

Never mind, apparently you were.

Tons of bloody tissues

You were being spammed. Everywhere, anywhere. And it was all comments or things you couldn’t find fault with, but this had to be some form of harassment, right? Right?!

Even posts you didn’t remember from five years back on your Instagram received about a dozen likes and comments. Everything on your forgotten Tumblr account got reblogged. Your Facebook was bleating with notification after notification both there and your email. YouTube was probably in danger of crashing at how many subscriptions and compliments that were rolling in.

All from the same account. Well, variations of the same account. Public, personal, fanmade-

God, WHAT WAS HE TRYING TO DO?!

You had to deal with it later. Anytime but now, not when you friends were looking at you so peculiarly. They wouldn’t believe it, you realized. Who was gonna believe a celebrity like him was spamming some nobody artist’s socials so obsessively? You’d be the crazy one, in fact.

What the hell had you done? What the hell was going on?

Later, later, later. You mustered your best neutral smile and set your phone in silent mode.

“Heh, you’re right, it’s just them telemarketers, huh?”

All of over my room

>>WTF DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING

what?<<

>>DONT PLAY INNOCENT

>>IT WAS YOU WHO KEPT SPAMMING ALL MY ACCS THESE PAST FEW DAYS

>>explain

i didn’t do shit whatever it was??<<

You were about to explode. Hours of going back and forth on this subject and he continued to flat out deny all charges. Never mind your friendship. No actual friend of you who cared about you would do this. Whatever guilt you had originally felt vanished the longer he went on defending himself.

Hell if you were gonna be friends with such a fanatical creep who couldn’t take it if all your attention wasn’t on him and acted like a child throwing a tantrum (with petty revenge) if he didn’t get his way.

>>ykw

>>we’re done

>>I’m not putting up with this anymore

>>bye

hey wait<<

You blocked him.

I need to clean them up

You often wondered how you never saw it as you aimlessly scrolled through your past conversations with him. It was so obvious, all the red flags - the way he’d make sure you always paid him attention or guilt tripped you back into talking to him no matter how busy you were.

He had a way with words, you supposed. What a singer like him was supposed to have.

It’s over anyway. Nearly a month had passed since you blocked him and so far the spams had stopped. Nothing else had happened.

Humming, you plugged in your earbuds and began to wash the dishes and clear up the remains of the dinner you had shared with your friend. It had been a pleasant time, and it had only now dawned on you how freer you feel compared to when even grabbing a coffee with your pals you’d worry about his messages.

Your Spotify was on whatever mixes they created just for you, so it wasn’t unusual for you to hear some new music blasting, but tonight they seemed rather…familiar.

“Love the way she makes me feel, like I’m just another lovesick guy, not whatever they painted me to be, can’t ever, ever, let her go-”

Hold up.

Baby, I'm fxxked up

Your trembling finger scrolled further down the article. He had recently released a new album, “Digital Love”, and that apparently had been what you were unwittingly previously listening to. But there was something seriously off about the lyrics.

One song’s verse was describing a bedroom that was certainly vague enough, yes, but when you compared it to yours it was uncannily similar. He’s never been in your house though.

Another was about a cafe date, which certainly was generic enough. If the cafe didn’t sound like an exact copy of the one the both of you went to.

Another’s “text conversation at 3am”’s wordings were awfully alike to your chats. If it weren’t about a couple already dating you’d have thought-

The songs got weirder the more you scrolled, from the general cliche romance to something borderline psychopath-level infatuation with whoever he was singing about. Or the harsh life of a celebrity…except in the song’s point of view the singer was the one stalking the celebrity.

It summed up your brief relationship perfectly.

It wasn’t probably about that but it certainly made you extremely relieved you had broken things off.

Baby, will you help me?

Damn were you excited! And nervous, don’t forget nervous.

You spent quite a long time in front of the mirror, fretting over what to wear, what to wear? Was your makeup too much? Would those shoes hurt your feet if you wore them too long, so should you stick to your first choice of footwear?

Eventually you calmed down enough to pull off a look that even you would have to admit you rocked. Your best friend certainly thought so, delightedly commenting loud enough for everyone to hear when you climbed into the car with an embarrassed flush that left your blush useless.

You both had somehow managed to score invites to a prestigious music awards event, how lucky was that?!

Of course it wasn’t as interesting as you had originally thought it’d be, you found out when you got there. Once the novelty of meeting all those renowned musicians from around the world wore off it was all drinks and sore hands from clapping as guests gave speeches and singer after singer received awards. At least that was what your more-than-drunk bestie confessed as you both declined another glass.

“And now, for the moment you’ve all been waiting for! Best Album of the Year goes to…”

Oh god. You balked. The contents of your dinner threatened to tsunami out of your throat. You hadn’t realized, hadn’t remembered he’d be here too. Shit, shit, shit.

You calmed down with a few breaths. He hadn’t even seemed to notice you at all tonight. Neither had he made any other attempt to contact you after that. What could possibly happen? You were just being paranoid. Blame the alcohol, you decided.

He leaned into the microphone, flashing that trillion watt smile seen everywhere on the media. “Thank you, thank you all. I’m a songwriter and I can’t even express how happy I am to have won this award thanks to all of you.”

This brought out a round of laughter. He waited and went on. “There’s so many things, places and people that inspired the album, actually, but I’d like to thank one person in particular, actually. We haven’t made anything official yet, but after all those late night talks, dates…I think I really want to call them mine.”

Woah, he moved on pretty fast. You wondered who whoever he was talking about was. Or who they were - his plus one -

The color drained from your face. He called your name

Because I'm gonna help you

He chuckled to himself as everyone pushed you towards him. Alcohol weakened your strength and no one would notice your obvious fear and reluctance. That, he reflected, was how it was in the life of someone famous. Nobody noticed anything negative and when they did it blew up.

It was because of this, honestly, that made him chase after you so badly. You let him be vulnerable, be soft, be lonely and not have to worry that it’ll appear in the headlines the very next day.

He’d told you before. I like you because you make me feel normal.

Some nagging conscience feebly berated him at the back of his head at what he was doing but he brushed it off. He had given you a choice but you had turned him down. Turned him down in favor of…others. You couldn’t say he hadn’t been fair now.

Did you really think he’d let go of the one heavenly thing in his life? He’d drag you down to hell if he’d have to, if you wouldn’t go down willingly. You had to or he’d lose his mind. You didn’t have a choice. Not now, being yanked up to the stage, your rejections unheard. Not later, when he’d have you stay in his mansion forever. How else did you think your friend got those tickets?

You were a little too naive for your own good.

YANDERE ALPHABET MASTERLIST

[frances-baby-houseman]

Dear Prudence,

Three years ago, my best friend and I had a falling out. When she asked for my opinion on her new fiancé and their relationship, I expressed some concern as gently as I could. I said it was concerning to me that they had only known each other for three months, that I was her best friend and had never met him (he had no interest in meeting her friends), and that the only times she had spoken to me about him before announcing the engagement were to talk through fights they had where he took rather nasty stances against totally normal things (her having any other men’s phone numbers saved in her phone, etc). She told me that I had never supported any of her relationships, this one was much better than previous ones, and I obviously didn’t actually care for her. I told her that wasn’t true and it was actually that I loved her so much that I was willing to tell her things I could see that she didn’t want to hear.

About a week after that fight, she called me in the middle of the night from the bathroom of a party, and told me that she’s concerned about how often she’s been using different drugs since starting the relationship (I wasn’t aware of this; previously she had occasionally smoked pot and that was it). I found out where she was, picked her up and brought her back to my house. In the morning, she was already gone when I woke up. I tried to call or text her every day for two weeks after that, leaving her messages that I loved her and was there for her and ready to help her when she wanted it. She never answered or acknowledged anything. She also disappeared off all social media. I went to her apartment at the end of the two weeks and there was a “for rent” sign in the window with all her belongings cleared out. She had said she and her fiancé had found a new place and were going to be moving in together, but I didn’t know where it was.

To complicate things, this was about one month before my wedding, where she was a bridesmaid. She dropped out of all wedding-related conversations as well and didn’t come to the bridal shower. The night before the wedding, she called and asked if it would be okay for her to come still. I told her of course! I didn’t push her to talk about anything she didn’t want to and just made sure to deliver the message that I love and support her while she was there. Immediately after the ceremony, my husband and I were outside taking some photos and heard shouting from the front entrance of the hotel.

It was her fiancé, who was telling her that they needed to leave. She waved goodbye and got in the car. I smiled and lied to anyone that asked about her during the reception and said she had gotten a terrible migraine and unfortunately was home in bed, then cried in the shower at the end of the night, knowing that she was truly gone from my life after calling each other sisters for years. I sent her one more text saying I would always be there if she ever needed anything and to please reach out when she was ready to. I never heard anything.

Last week, my mother sent me a picture of the police blotter in the newspaper for her town (about two hours away from where I live), and asked if that was my friend in the mugshot picture. It was listed along with her first name and the previous fiancé’s last name. She had gotten arrested for drunk driving with her 2-year-old son in the car. My heart broke all over again. Without hearing from her/about her, I’d been able to convince myself she had left the bad relationship, gone back to complete that master’s degree program she wanted to, and was happy and healthy. This tells a different story. I know I did what I could for her, and she didn’t want to hear what I was saying or accept my help, but I feel so guilty. How do I get past this?

—Friend Break-Up

Dear Break-Up,

Do you have time this week to just sit down and cry about your friend? Seriously, put it on the calendar. Dedicate an hour to thinking about how much you miss her, how much you hate that she’s suffering, and how you wish things could be different for you two. Really mourn the friendship you could have had if she’d made different choices. Think about how much it broke your heart for her to leave your wedding. Worry about her and her 2-year-old.

You and I both know that guilt doesn’t make sense here. You were patient and accommodating and did all you could for her. And maybe feeling guilty is keeping you from experiencing the more appropriate feeling for this situation: Grief. If you give yourself a chance to experience that—not just in this one-hour appointment with yourself, but over weeks and months—might take your focus away from wondering what you could have done that would have saved her. The answer to that is, of course, nothing.

for @formerly-ujb

[geneticcatalyst]

as promised, an exploration of my one pet problem in fandom, or: misinterpretation of jby's first death (ft. zzs)

heres the thing. i occasionally see people reference what seems to be a misconception of the (english translation) text in qi ye. both the fact that its a translation and the metaphorical phrasing make it pretty clear to see why they got the wrong idea, but i firmly believe its still the wrong idea. i am by no means calling the people who got this mixed up dumb or bad, i am simply leaning over their shoulders going 'wait no bestie pls read that again pls read that one more time!!' because this is one of my favorite books and this thing is a key piece of one of my favorite things about it.

i said i was gonna pull screenshots for this post but i think it will be a little while before i get to another reread and i can't ctrl+f the google doc so im just gonna whip this out from memory. if anyone does have this particular passage on hand feel free to pop it in here. the rest of the context/explanations are just from my cursory research, im not chinese or a historian.

cards on the table. the only thing i love more than unhinged gay romances is unhinged platonic soul mates. its catnip to me. i go feral every goddamn time. and i havent stopped losing my mind about zhou zishu and jing beiyuan since that first qi ye scene. what do those guys have going on? not even sure they know but it's A Lot. ive got like 18 other unpublished drafts trying to work that out slash losing my fucking mind at the lengths they go to about each other. that relationship is at the center of both novels even if the spotlight isnt on it. so I admit that my readings are colored a bit by how much i like that they like each other!

which is why im shocked baffled and, ok, lightly salted, to see a few people make the claim that zishu (personally) tortured/killed beiyuan in his first life.

so what the text says is that after helian yi stopped trusting beiyuan (after su qingluan's accidental death), he was basically put to death. but even the emperor has to have a half decent reason to execute someone. the text describes these reasons- ten of them- as zhou zishu's masterpieces. it also refers to them as great shames to beiyuan's standing. what's happening is that helian yi has zishu frame beiyuan for treason or other betrayals against the emperor/the country. it isn't specific as to what, but it doesn't really matter, because its all fake and zishu is really good at his job. so yes, it is fair to say that zishu is the INSTRUMENT of beiyuan's death, but he didn't kill him, he just laid the groundwork.

the text goes on to another slightly confusing line where it says something to the effect of that when each of these accusations were read out in court, each line drew blood from jing beiyuan. that's a metaphor! it's just saying that his reputation was torn apart and ultimately his fate is sealed, despite the phrasing there are no literal injuries happening.

also, i may not have the timeline perfect on this part, but in zishu's introduction in the beginning of the novel, the narration tells us outright that while zishu is partially responsible for beiyuan's death, he was like. cool about it. in what seems to be the first and only time he ever steps out of line or goes against helian yi's command (!), after setting all this up but- if im remembering right- before the news actually breaks in court the next day, zishu warns beiyuan. now this admittedly doesnt do a whole lot because the only other possible option (cut and run) isn't a very good one, but it's the only thing zishu can do. he doesnt have to, but he does it anyway (!). of course beiyuan doesnt even consider doing this, he's stubborn and heartbroken, but he really seems to 1. appreciate the risk zishu took here to try to give him a chance and 2. not hold the whole set up against zishu or take that bit personally.

so what actually happened at the end of beiyuan's first life? he was sent the 3 zhang of white silk. the text does explicitly say this once, but if you're not familiar with the practice it may not click. receiving the white silk from the emperor is what happens when you're too high ranking to execute like a commoner but you've fallen from grace and are being politely asked to hang yourself in order to clear your name. and of course beiyuan, stubborn and heartbroken, does. yes, it's a forced suicide, but it isn't a murder.

anyway, its in that secret conversation, where zishu secretly meets with beiyuan seemingly to try to convince him to save himself and beiyuan outright refuses, that beiyuan promises that if theres a next life (ha), they'll get drunk together. and of course against all odds, there is and they do.

the thing about the idea that some people might think that zishu killed beiyuan is that after that nothing between them makes sense. even if it was at helian yi's request, i just cant see that not permanently damaging the friendship, i don't think beiyuan could immediately pick back up being best friends in the seventh life with that memory in the way. why would zishu go out of his way to warn beiyuan one day if he was perfectly capable and fine with killing him the next? why would beiyuan not only be happy to meet zishu again in the seventh life but also go out of his way trying to save zishu's? none of their other interactions really make sense if you believe there was a murder done there. idk. it clouds the whole throughline of the story which is that they have a bond!

i think maybe people think it is in character due to the other ruthless murders, and they're not wholly wrong, but that's the kicker for me. zishu will murder all kinds of innocents no questions asked, but he's suddenly trying to give an out to his coworker and drinking buddy? hello? thats insane, and that's the point.

furthermore, if you think maybe it would make sense for helian yi to have beiyuan violently killed (since it keeps fucking happening later), i actually have to become helian yi's lawyer for a moment here and say that that doesnt make sense either. helian yi is sitting on a throne gained by shadowy means but he's the Good Guy Ruler and that reputation is important. hes not a cruel person and he may have become paranoid but he still has a shared history with beiyuan. plus, even the emperor has to abide by a certain amount of decorum when he wants to have people killed, especially when that person is also a high ranking member of court. beiyuan's status is basically second only to the royal bloodline, he's essentially the prev emperor's godson, as well as a previously close confidante of helian yi himself. the white silk was regarded as a privileged, dignified means of offing someone. helian yi is perfectly within social acceptability to do this to beiyuan with the pretext of beiyuan's disgrace. but it would be pushing the boundaries for the good and just emperor to suddenly have one of his top advisors and members of high nobility brutally killed like a common criminal. he could probably do it, but it would reflect on him and his reputation too. he could do it in secret, but would have to cover up the disappearance of a prominent court figure. it just makes sense to use the white silk as the neatest, most acceptable legal justice channel here. maintain emotional detachment, be polite, everybody's honor gets honored and such.

so that's the ted talk. theres even some beautiful fanart on here of white-haired first life beiyuan holding the white silk! he wasn't tortured or outright executed, and he chose to obey rather than escape or fight the false claims of treason even though his friend tried to give him the only out he could manage. to interpret things differently really skews the character motivations and plot for everyone- beiyuan, zishu, helian yi- in a way that warps the story out of believability, imho.

[bbyquokka]

Hi lovely :) I was wondering if you can write anything fluffy with Felix where he’s on a date with his shy gf thank you <3

first date

FLUFF BELOW CUT - MINORS, AGELESS AND DEFAULT BLOGS; DNI!

warnings: gn reader, established relationship, kissing, fluff & lots of it words: 0.9k ~ (924)

dont repost. dont translate. feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

"you look so beautiful tonight yn.” felix gives you a soft and warm smile; a smile that sets your soul on fire and butterflies to flutter erratically in your stomach.

“thank you.” you say, feeling your cheeks flush a nice pink colour. he grins before picking some food up with his fork.

felix and you met via mutual friends, what is actually meant it that, is your friends set you both up on a blind date. sure, you was annoyed that your friends did something like this (as was felix) but the more time you spent with each other, the more you realised how compatible you both are.

similar interests, thought processes. similar habits and hobbies. it's like you've met another you, but in felix form. you're both going steady, deciding to take it slow and not rush. you both thought it was best to start of with a few dates first as well as the only psychical contact being hand holding and hugs.

you have yet to kiss one another.

some days you really, really want to kiss him. those days where he is being extra (extra adorable, hyperactive, sunshine vibes) you just wanna grab his freckled cheeks and smush your lips against his

felix feels the same. as someone who's love language is touch, it's becoming increasingly hard for him to not touch you, to keep his hands off you when all he really wants, is to hold you. to feel your soft skin under his fingertips. to feel your warmth and have you hair tickle his chin as you rest on his chest.

he wants to feel your soft lips against his. your fingers in his hair as he holds you so close in fear of you being a dream.

some days he feels like he is living the dream. you're so beautiful, so gentle, so ethereal, that felix is scared to wake up one day and it be a dream. but when he sees the usual “good morning, my sunshine 💛😚” text, he breathes a sigh of relief - because you are real!

tonight is your first date with felix. you stressed you didn't want anything too fancy but felix had other plans. he booked a table at a nice restaurant, a restaurant that serves the finest of foods for x amount of money. it's not expensive per say, but it's a little on the pricy side - but that doesn't bother felix in the slightest, because you're worth every penny.

he made sure to dress up. so far, you've only seen him in casual wear. hoodies, tees, jeans. this time, he opted in black jeans (because comfort) but with a dress shirt, rolled up to his elbows and vest waistcoat, paired with a black bowtie. his blond hair slicked back to keep out of his eyes and his face left make up free. (he knows how much you adore his freckles)

you too, also tried your best. dressing in your best clothing, spraying your most expensive cologne. you want your first date with felix to be one that you will never forget.

once done with the meal, felix walks you home. you make idle chit-chat, the conversations free flowing. you're both comfortable within each other that you don't have to worry about whether you're oversharing or being too much, felix adores you for that and that brings you a huge amount of comfort.

his hands soft against yours, thumb stroking your hand as you both walk to your home. he occasionally squeezes your hand, gently pulling you into his side and kissing your forehead gently, a sweet gesture that's enough to make you mentally scream and kick your feet.

“well, this is my stop.” you say as you stand on the doorstep, facing felix.

“i guess this is where we part ways. well, until tomorrow that is.” he laugh softly.

“but we will be on video call in less than thirty minutes, lix.” you giggle. “its like we can't be apart from one another.”

“well, that's true. i want to spend all my time with you, yn.” felix steps closer to you, his hand gently placed on your hip. you wrap your arms around his neck gently, fingers interlocking behind his head.

“i want to spend all my time with you to lix.” you whisper, slowly closing the gap between you both. “thank you for tonight. you didn't have to pay.”

“no, but i wanted to.” he mumbles, eyes fluttering shut as your lips brush against each other gently. your heart thumps erratically against your ribcage, threatening to burst out. your palms become clammy, the feeling of excitement bubbling in your stomach, but you have to play cool.

“let me pay you back”

“how?”

you gently press your lips against felix's. he hums softly, moving his lips against your slowly. it's a sweet, delicate and gently kiss. a kiss that's filled with love and pent up want and desire. you tangle your fingers in his hair as you share the sweet kiss under the clear night sky, felix pulling you flush against his body.

your mind slowly goes numb, heart beating scarily fast. either because you're excited that it's finally happened, or the fact your kissing felix but your ability to breath becomes little to none. soon, you have no choice but to pull away. a soft whine of disapproval emits from felix's lips, his finger hooking under your chin before leaning in once more.

“just a bit longer. i don't want this night to end, not yet anyways.”

note: thank you for the request anon. it got my own heart fluttering, ngl! don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. i’d love to hear your thoughts ‹3

tags [open]: @sstarryoong ; @oshimee ; @septicrebel ; @bbujiikseu ; @cixrosie ; @alyszaen ; @hyunluvxo ; @writerracha

[tiger-moran]

Seeing all this stuff lately about 'foreshadowing' with Moriarty, where he's kind of this vaguely sinister presence in the background and we the audience know who he really is but Holmes and Watson do not is making me kind of glad I haven't really done that in my story. Yes I like some of the 'looming shadow' symbolism and that sort of thing but I think there's often too much of that and very little else with Moriarty. I want in this universe for Moriarty and Holmes to end up in opposition yes but not where it's like... he's always lurking and watching and obsessing over Holmes long before he's revealed as the criminal mastermind and then they try to kill each other. I like the idea they start out almost as friends, however I've never really liked that idea that used to get used quite often (though it seems to have fallen out of favour a bit more recently) that Moriarty was Holmes's tutor or teacher and then for whatever reason they ended up as enemies. And I don't like the idea of them being obsessed with each other and it ending up where everything Moriarty does revolves around Holmes. I just want to see more where Holmes sees that other facet of Moriarty, the affable maths professor side, and in some ways they actually genuinely like each other, not it just ending up with his only exposure to Moriarty being where Moriarty is a master criminal. Also something I would like to see more of: Moriarty knowing Mycroft Holmes, probably even before he knows Sherlock Holmes. It makes so much sense to me that Mycroft and Moriarty know each other, that they get along even (yes this does also happen in my story).

Moriarty in my story though is a mathematics professor just not only a mathematics professor, because I still think not enough is made overall of Moriarty actually being a professor and having this entire career that has absolutely nothing to do with Holmes. In so many texts and adaptations he's still called 'Professor' but then nothing of him actually being a professor or a tutor or anything of that kind is ever mentioned or shown and pretty much all he is is 'the criminal mastermind'. Yet one of the things that makes him so dangerous I'm sure is that he is hiding in plain sight all along because he has this absolutely genuine entire other career which sure probably crosses over with his criminal career in some ways but is still a genuine and totally legitimate occupation not just a disguise. That is why he's beyond suspicion, that is why he is able to do what he does on the criminal side. But that idea seems to get overlooked often in favour of having him being a professor in name only who turns up solely as the 'villainous criminal genius' and all his actions basically being 'evil'. Occasionally we get something else, like for example in A Game of Shadows, where yes Moriarty is also effectively hiding in the shadows [of criminality] all along but he is also very clearly still an actual professor and teacher in that, that facet of him is explicitly shown in that so he is very much hiding in plain sight there too not merely 'lurking in the shadows'. But I think that's what we do need more of, Moriarty being this 'normal' guy who has this other job where he's respected, maybe even liked by some people, but realistically where probably most people think he's kind of nerdy and really boring. While yes I do like the idea of Holmes meeting him and sensing something off about him from the start, I dislike the tendency often to make Moriarty too up front about his 'dark side' or too 'flamboyantly evil' and to try to paint him as responsible for pretty much all major crime and doing this basically entirely to antagonise Holmes or 'flirt' with him even and where he has no real interest in anything else, when actually Moriarty's just spending a lot of his time simply being a teacher and writing about mathematics. And this 'foreshadowing' that often gets inserted into things, where it's eventually revealed to us, if not to the characters, that here's Moriarty and he's the Big Bad Criminal and he's responsible for all these crimes... I want to see less of that and way more showing the multiple sides to Moriarty's character.

Also, I am definitely very interested too in seeing a little bit more of Holmes's dark side coming out, because we the audience also know that Holmes absolutely does have a dark side and we know that he pretty much explicitly says later in the canon that if Watson had been killed, he would have murdered Watson's killer. But I don't think Holmes knows this to the same extent we do, at least not consciously and particularly not earlier on; it's something I think he's much more in denial about. I still think that's a big reason why Holmes is so afraid of Moriarty and why he does twist him into this sort of bogeyman/nightmare/ghoulish figure in his mind who looks practically like a walking skeleton in Holmes's descriptions even though really Moriarty is actually just Some Guy, a genius maybe but he's still just a human being - I think Holmes is not afraid of Moriarty so much as he's afraid he is just as capable of doing 'bad' things as his 'dark mirror' Moriarty is. Moriarty is Holmes without many of the shackles imposed by society and I think that thought does frighten Holmes.

Also I do simultaneously really like the idea of Watson seeing Moran falling further and further into crime and Moran becoming Watson's own 'dark mirror' character and not really understanding that this is how the narrative was always going to play out, where we the audience know that Moran started off as an 'honourable soldier' but is Watson's dark mirror but Watson did not know this (also this happening while Watson is still definitely a little bit in love with Moran). I don't think the similarities between the characters and the Moran as Watson's mirror thing or the very real possibility that these characters knew each other well before the actual stories take place are ideas that have been explored anywhere near enough, often because Moran is frequently just erased or written out and considered to be not important, when actually, Watson is important and so is his own mirror character Moran.

[johnnysuhbmarine]

What if it's not the Alcohol Talking?

Pairing: Jake Sim x reader Description: Another party, another night where !best friend Jake comes to your rescue, or at least, gets you home safe. The problem lies in the fact that you haven’t felt normal best-friend-feelings about Jake in a long time, and you might’ve had just enough liquid courage this time around to do something about it…though who knows if you’ll even remember by morning. Content warnings: mentions/consumption of alcohol, mentions/act of throwing up though it’s not described in basically any detail because I can’t even handle that, Jake calls y/n “angel” and dhfusdifhdjkfh, Jake sings at his church but that’s about as religious as this thing gets. Word count: 3,715 A/n: Okay, I wasn’t expecting people to actually read my writing, much less LIKE it, but go off I guess B) I've edited and re-edited this and can't figure out how to make it better so...here's this. I hope you all are doing well - I’m rooting for you, at least, so there’s that. Anyways, here’s one more one shot before university starts to get the better of me. Please enjoy, or don’t…I can’t tell you what to do. As always, feedback would be GREATLY appreciated :)

Your blurry world immediately finds focus when you see your best friend walk through the front door of the frat house you were currently at. It was a Saturday night party at Beta Theta Pi, and while sorority life itself was not your thing, you had enough friends involved to get you into the parties, which you took full advantage of. 

On the other hand, your best friend, Jake Sim, was a complete homebody. He didn’t mind an occasional wine night with you - the two of you scouring every shelf in the store for bottles of Pinot Noir so you could compare them to each other and eventually find the perfect bottle to drink for the rest of your lives. However, parties were way out of his comfort zone, and you cared about him too much to try and push that agenda on him. Besides, you didn’t know what you would do if Jake became a party person like this. You didn’t ever want him to change, not when his juxtaposed gentle presence at the entrance of the frat, only there so he could drive you home, provided you with such warmth that the snow currently outside seemed to be impossible. 

You had a massive crush on Jake Sim, and you also had a massive amount of alcohol in your system. 

Jake stood there shyly at the front entryway, the tension leaving his body once his gaze found your presence. You were standing and talking to strangers in the kitchen, though your eyes were trained on Jake from the moment he walked in, sure your face was lit up in response. Jake let out a small sigh before making his way through all the drunk dancers and couples with no sense of privacy so that he could get to you. 

“Hey, n/n.” He says once he’s beside you, paying no attention to the people you were originally talking with as he gazed at you softly. You immediately break from the conversation you were having so you could respond.

“Hi, Jake.” You slur through a bright smile, causing him to let out a small chuckle. He tilted his head to the side, a habit he always had no matter where he was. 

“Are you ready to go?” He asks, though he knows the answer. He wouldn’t be here if you weren’t ready. He always stayed up waiting for your texts saying that you wanted to be picked up, and then he would come swing by and grab you so you could get home safe. If he minded being your personal chauffeur back from parties, he never gave any signs, so it was a pattern the two of you had since you met in freshman year. 

You nod your head excitedly, but then your world starts to spin and you have to scrunch your eyes shut, holding out a hand blindly to try and stabilize yourself with Jake’s forearm. He gently covers your hand on his arm with his own, sending peace through your body. “You had a lot to drink tonight, yeah?” He asks, not the least bit accusatory but with genuine curiosity instead. You peek an eye open to see his face, a smile covering your own again as you do.

“Maybe.” You reply as your smile turns into a playful smirk, Jake’s own grin widening at your behavior. 

He nods his head in the direction of the exit. “Come on, let’s get you home.” He says lightly as he starts making his way towards the door, still firmly holding your hand on his arm so he knew you were still with him. 

Jake helped you into the passenger seat of his car, buckling your seatbelt for you with focus, trying not to accidentally touch you and make you uncomfortable. The two of you weren’t strangers to physical contact with each other; basically all of your interactions started and ended with bear hugs, but Jake always tried his best to not initiate physical contact whenever you had been drinking…cause he was perfect. 

When he finally walked around to the other side and fastened himself in the driver’s seat, you got your first solid look at him that wasn’t clouded with the dizziness that came with standing up. He was still in jeans and his long-sleeve blue and white striped polo. His fluffy black hair had a slight curl to it, middle parted as the ends fell over the outside corners of his eyes, which were covered by his nerdy glasses that you absolutely adored. It was hard to ever say Jake wasn’t attractive, but something about him in glasses made him look so cozy and boyfriend-like that it quickly became one of your favorite looks on him. 

“You’re so perfect.” You blurt out without thinking. Jake was still waiting for the car to warm up some before he started driving, and you figure that was probably the luckiest it could have played out because Jake rendered still. The initial shock from your statement caused him to jerk back slightly, eyes widening before he completely froze, and you think you surely would have caused a wreck if he was already on the road. 

Your perception of time is surely skewed, but Jake only seemed to be flustered for a millisecond before he let out a small laugh and turned your way with a playful smile and sincere eyes. “You’re drunk.” He states plainly, and you think your face falls into a pout before your previously consumed liquid courage continues doing its job.

“Yeah, but you’re perfect even when I’m sober.” You reiterate with genuinity and your eyes trained on Jake; though, whatever nonverbal cues he might be sending were too much for you to process in this state anyways. His adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows hesitantly. For a moment, his tongue darts out of his mouth to lick his lips as he turns his attention to the road, then shifting into drive and starting on the way home without ever replying. 

With his spare key, he opened the door to your place, bringing you to sit on the couch as he took your shoes off, then moving to place them by the front door with the rest of your shoes. In an effort to stay close to him, you get up and try to follow his movements, but the second your bare feet hit the floor, your equilibrium is thrown, and the dizziness has you nauseous now. “Jake.” You mumble out in almost a whine. Jake snapped his head towards you, his gaze landing on your defeated figure and he immediately knew you felt sick. His eyes widen for a split second before he rushes to pick you up. You wrap around him like a koala until he places you back down in the bathroom, which thankfully was the closest room to where you were. 

Jake held your hair back messily with one hand as you threw up, his other hand rubbing gently up and down your forearm. When your body rids itself of the last of your night’s alcohol, you turn around to face Jake, uneasiness still written on all your features. Jake took care of you after every party, but you had never thrown up before, and you were worried this would push him past his limit. 

Instead, Jake lets out a soft chuckle, the hand that was holding your hair now fixing its framing around your face. “You’re so perfect.” He says sincerely, his eyes filled with fondness as he gave a lopsided smile, and before you can even give yourself the chance to get flustered, you’re shaking your head. 

“Perfect people don’t throw up.” You respond sadly, but Jake just sighs, shaking his head minimally in disagreement.

“Everyone gets sick, angel.” He replies calmly. Your face falls blank, eyes impossibly wide. He’s never called you ‘angel’ before, he doesn’t call you ‘angel.’ He calls you ‘y/n’ or ‘n/n’ and that’s it. Calling you ‘angel’ was completely different from that. Jake reads your expression in an instant, a toothy smile adorning his face as he moves to stand. He immediately leans back down to pick you up and carry you out of the bathroom, placing you so that you’re now sitting on the kitchen counter. 

You watch as he moves around your kitchen as if he lived here, first grabbing a cup and celebrating when he saw you still had Sprite in your fridge. He quickly filled the cup before walking back over to you, the drink now extended out for you to take. He raises his eyebrows invitingly as he nods towards the Sprite. “Come on. It will help get the taste out of your mouth.” He says, doing his best to encourage you to take the Sprite from his hands. When you give in and realize you did, in fact, desperately need that taste out of your mouth, Jake resumes his quest in your kitchen. You watch between sips as he gathers a handful of different items, and by the time he’s done, he has a water bottle, Advil, Powerade, and Hello Pandas placed together. 

He turns back to face your confused gaze, answering your questions without you even having to ask. “I’ll bring these over to your nightstand so you have them whenever you need them between tonight and tomorrow morning. I have Advil and water for you, but make sure you also drink the Powerade, okay? You’ll need the electrolytes.” He says confidently. He meets your eyes again before adding on. “Oh! And the Hello Panda box is there just because they’re your favorite snack so I figured you may want some. They won’t necessarily help your hangover, though.” He finishes with a laugh and warmth floods your entire system as you mumble out a weak ‘thank you.’ 

You slowly get down from the counter, helping Jake to carry everything to your room before getting ready for bed. You changed out of your party clothes and into an oversized t-shirt and some athletic shorts, but outside of getting into pajamas, your night routine seemed daunting. You open your bedroom door back up after you finish changing so you can say ‘goodnight’ to Jake, but as he walks in and sees you heading towards your bed, he tilts his head, confused. “Y/n, you still have makeup on.” 

You shrug, sliding your legs under the covers as you sit up in bed. “Too much work.” You get out, and Jake’s features soften. Then, you watch as he exits your room, leaving you to furrow your eyebrows because you were at least expecting him to say ‘bye.’ However, he comes back in moments later with makeup remover from the bathroom and your eyes widen.

He sits on the edge of your bed, his upper body turned to face you as he took a makeup wipe out of the packaging. He looks at it with a frown before facing you again. “I know your actual cleanser is better, but I figure there’s no way I can do that in a non-messy way with you in bed.” He says, a playful grin crossing his face as he no doubt started thinking about the results of cupping water in his hands and running over here. He looks down at the wipe in his hand before making eye contact with you. “Let me know if I hurt you, okay? I don’t know the right amount of force it takes to remove makeup, but I want to make sure I get it all, okay?” He adds, and you just bite the insides of your cheeks. He wasn’t supposed to be this nice. Well…you knew he was this nice, it’s how he’s always been, but with your brain out of whack, it’s considerably harder to tell your body not to turn into a puddle at his actions. So, instead of opening your mouth and risking telling him how perfect he is again, you just nod slowly, and Jake starts wiping off your makeup. 

When he finally gets your face all barren again, you let yourself actually lie down in bed. He moves to throw the used wipes away before heading towards the door. Though, he turns back to you before he leaves your room, a soft smile on his face. “Goodnight, n/n. Call me if you need anything” He says gently, heading back towards the exit of your place afterwards. 

“Jake.” You call out weakly, but he hears it, stopping right away and walking back into your room, his eyebrows raised in question.

“Yeah? Do you need something?”

Your eyes drop to your hands, anxiously fiddling with your fingers while building up the courage to talk again. “Yeah…you.” You say quietly, but Jake picks up on it anyways. His features go soft as he lets out a small sigh. He walks over to where you were in bed, a hand moving to brush your hair out of your face. If you knew how big and pleading your eyes were, you probably would’ve been embarrassed, but you didn’t know, so you continued to stare at him as if he was the entire world. 

“Y/n, you’ve had a lot to drink. With the high probability that you don’t remember any of this in the morning, I don’t want to scare you when you wake up and find me here, too.” He says seriously. You stick out your bottom lip in a pout. Regardless of if he was technically saying all the right things, you hated it. 

“Please.” You beg with wide eyes, and Jake seems to stop breathing for a moment. He finally drops his head to face the floor, shaking it in disbelief.

“Can I run home and change into pajamas first?” He asks, and you smile brightly in response, shooing him out the door so he could get back faster. He leaves with a small laugh and promises of coming back, leaving your heart racing and a permanent smile on your face.

When he returns in his pajamas, he walks into your room almost surprised to see you stayed up waiting for him to get back. He flashes a smile in your direction before grabbing your desk chair and sliding it over near the bed. You scrunch your eyebrows at him. “What are you doing?” 

He looks back at you as though that was a weird question. “About to sleep?” He responds, and your face falls.

“No. You’re supposed to sleep in my bed with me!” You whine, and Jake begins to laugh before speaking softly.

“That was never the plan, angel. I’ll still be right beside you, just not in bed. I’m here if you need me, okay? But I’m not getting in bed with you. Not when it would feel like I’m taking advantage of your drunken state.” He responds as he sits down. The frown doesn’t leave your face.

“But I wanted to hold you.” You complain, and Jake’s face lights up as his smile turns into a shit-eating grin.

“Oh, you were gonna hold me, yeah?” He teases, and a smile slowly starts to creep back onto your face.

“Yes, I was.” You say confidently before rolling on your back to face the ceiling. “But noooo. You’re sleeping on the chair.” You say, unenthused. 

From your side, Jake chuckles again before reaching his hand out to you. You give it a glance before looking back towards him in question. His eyebrows raise invitingly. “Here.” He says gently. “You can hold my hand.” 

Your face lights up and you immediately slide to the very edge of the bed to take his right hand in your left before bringing it to rest on your stomach. Though you were no longer facing him, Jake’s gaze on you remained soft, and when he began to rub his thumb against the back of your hand, you were asleep in an instant. 

You wake up the next morning with a massive headache and instantly roll over to grab the medicine on your nightstand. That’s when your attention is caught by the sticky note laid on top of the Advil. 

N/n, I’m singing at church this morning, so I am already gone. Please drink your Powerade :) I also made chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast if you want the ones left over. They’re in the fridge. Text me sometime today so I know you’re okay, okay? - Jake 

You read and reread the sticky note, trying to figure why he would come make breakfast at your place. It takes about half a second before your jaw drops and your eyes go wide. Jake didn’t just come over to make breakfast; Jake stayed the night. You hide your face in your hands, the embarrassment you felt only adding to your headache as you get out of bed and start to get ready. 

Though chocolate chip pancakes were your favorite, you were in no mood to eat, and instead, you just make the two minute walk off-campus to get to the church that Jake goes to. You got there in time to listen to him sing one last song before the service ended. Then, you stood in the back, waiting for him to eventually get done talking to everyone and realize you’re there. He was talking with the pastor, smiling in response to what you could only guess was a ‘fantastic job’ on his singing today. Then his friends call him over, and he moves to join their circle, but that’s when his eyes land on you. You watch as he freezes before a soft grin comes across his face. One of his friends calls his attention again but he waves them off, apologizing as he leaves their group to come talk to you.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” He asks cheerfully, but you just drop your head.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry about last night.” You mumble out, and Jake’s eyebrows furrow.

“You’re sorry?” He questions.

You nod your head lightly. “I didn’t mean to make you spend the night…I’m sorry.” 

The cheerful aura surrounding Jake fades away and he speaks slowly, as if still processing your words. “You didn’t mean- didn’t mean it. Um, okay. Uh, just- next time, can you have Heeseung or Sunghoon or just- someone else pick you up from parties?” 

You pop your head back up to look at him, a little confused. “Like, Saturday parties? When you have church the next morning?”

“No.” He replies quickly. “Any party. Just have someone else pick you up.” He says, now facing the floor as you just stare at him in shock.

“I’m sorry that taking care of me last night was so horrible. I didn’t mean to make you upset with me. I don’t even know- did I do something wrong?” You ask, concerned. Jake was your best friend. He was your safe place, that’s why you asked him to be the one picking you up from parties in the first place. He never had a problem with it before, and you rack your fogged memories to try and come up with anything you may have done that had him completely dismissive right now. You didn’t have to think too hard though, because Jake gives you your answer.

“No- yes- y/n, I can’t listen to you beg me to stay the night, get sad when I say I’m not actually sleeping in bed with you, and then have you say you didn’t mean it the next morning…I can’t listen to you call me perfect if you’re going to take it back when you’re sober. I don’t want my feelings getting played with just because you’re drunk. So, get someone else to take you home.” He was visibly sad but his words were stern, and you were standing there speechless.  

“Feelings…” You repeat back softly, and Jake shakes his head in embarrassment, dropping his gaze to the floor once again.

“Yeah, feelings. There’s something you can go laugh with your frat buddies about-”

You cup his face with your hand lightly, forcing him to look your way again. His eyes go wide as you stare at him. “Did you mean it?” You ask seriously. He swallows hard before nodding his head.

“Yeah, angel. I meant it.” He says quietly, and hearing the word ‘angel’ come out of his mouth while sober was enough to make you crumble. You don’t, though. Instead, you grin widely.

“I meant it when I called you perfect.” You respond, and Jake renders still. He looks at you, his emotions scrambled as he blinks rapidly in your direction. You let out a small chuckle. “I came here to apologize because I thought I ruined our friendship by doing so.” 

Jake scrunches his eyebrows at you, more playful than you would expect. “Well, you did.” He affirms, and your eyes go wide with worry. 

“What-?”

“What? I don’t want to be in a normal relationship with you when I could be in a romantic relationship with you.” He replies with a smirk and you swat at him playfully, rolling your eyes. 

“You scared me so bad, Jake Sim.” You say through a laugh. He looks at you with a softness in his eyes that you don’t think you’ll ever get used to, and he moves closer until your faces are just inches apart. 

“Y/n, will you please be my girlfriend?” He asks, his hot breath against your lips making you go crazy. You nod your head, adding a verbal ‘yes’ onto it as Jake leans in closer.

You begin to laugh. “Jake, are you about to kiss me in your church?” You ask, extremely embarrassed. Jake takes a moment to look around at the rest of the people still there before turning back to you and shrugging. 

“Last time I checked, church is where you’re supposed to kiss the person you love…or else, I should probably check in on all those couples that I’ve watched get married.” He says confidently and you smile so impossibly wide it hurts your cheeks. He laughs again, looking at you intently. “Y/n, can I kiss you?” He asks, and you don’t give him the niceties of an answer as you move to kiss him first.

[clemswinecorner]

Future of the team [Ralf Aron]

Summary: You're Paul Aron's trainer/coach whatever at Prema and may have a relationship with his brother (that supposedly no one knows about, but Rene and Angelina obviously notice)

Wordcount: 3.1k

Warnings: a little suggestive but no actual smut, alcohol. also swearing but that's not unusual

*Someone* complained about the lack of Ralf fics and I got inspired. Also in honour of Paul going to F3 hihi

Ok so I could’ve stopped this at some point but decided to keep it going and now its way longer then i intended… Have fun!

Sidenote, Ralf and Paul obviously talk estonian to each other but those parts are written in English for obvious reasons (me not being Estonian and you probably not being Estonian either)

Honourable mention to @louisaamz who helped giving me inspiration, wouldn't have finished this without you :)

Main Masterlist

"Paul! Do you have time for me right now or does race prep have to wait until we’re literally on the grid?" Paul looks behind him as you call his name. He waits until you catch up, leading you towards the Formula One paddock. "I have to pop in at Mercedes, but that won’t take more than five minutes. Don’t worry, I already planned to be back at Prema with you in fifteen," he says as you walk next to him. "Alright, cool. Meet you back at the garage then? I don’t have my F1 pass with me right now," He nods before he goes through the security. "See you in 15!" He says before heading off. "You better!" You walk back to the Prema garage, seeing Ralf walk the other way. He stops you to ask "Hey, have you seen-" before he can finish his sentence you interrupt him. "He’s at mercedes. He’ll be back at the garage in 15 for his race prep," Ralf smiles at you, thanking you silently. "I’ll just talk to him then. Hey, tonight is still good right? 10.30? I’m having dinner with Paul and some drivers," you nod. "Yeah, Angelina and Rene asked me to join the team, but I think 10.30 is good. I’ll text you if it gets any later," he nods and smiles. "Weren’t you going somewhere? I’ll see you in 15," He smiles as you do a casual handshake to say goodbye. "You better," you smirk at his choice of words.

Paul stands in front of you with his face to the wall, catching the tennis balls you’re throwing at random speeds. You liked these exercises, because they weren’t too much physical work but still helped with (both your and Paul’s) reaction time. "Oh fuck," you mumble as the one you’re catching manages to slip from your finger. "I go it," You hear a familiar voice and you turn sideways for a few seconds to smile at Ralf. You communicate in silence about both throwing the balls to throw Paul off (it supposedly is to test his reflexes better, but really it’s an excuse for him to stick around). "Hey, stop just looking at each other, that’s worse than if you’d be constantly flirting. Just throw the damn balls, which clearly neither of you have," he mumbles the last part and you and Ralf look at each other with a knowing smirk- if only he knew. "You had to talk to Paul, no?" You ask, recalling what he said earlier. "Oh, yeah. Ma called, she wants us to get grandma a gift here. We have her birthday the day after we get back, and she thought something from Italy would be nice," You and Paul continue his exercises as they chat about their family birthday gifts and what not in a mix of english and estonian, and you find yourself occasionally looking at the older one of the pair a little too long.

That night you knocked on Ralf’s door at 10.40. "Hey," You smile as he opens the door, already stepping aside for you to come in. "I’m going to be honest, I may have had a few glasses of wine. Not that I'm like, extremely drunk, I'm just definitely not sober. I kind of wanted to go to my room but I don’t trust myself with my key, could you come along so I don’t lock myself out or in?" He laughs at your statement as you try to find the best words, dropping your bag on the desk. "Sure. You could just use some of my stuff, you know? Same team after all," You chuckle, grabbing your key and handing it to Ralf. "Yes, but I need underwear. I’d appreciate a shirt though, so I can drop off my dress as well," He smiles, handing you the shirt he already had hanging over the chair. They came back to the hotel fifteen minutes before you, so he’d already changed into gray sweatpants and a somewhat tight black shirt, perfectly showing his muscles. He handed you a simple white one with the prema logo, a little oversized on you but it fit perfectly. "C’mon, what room are you in?" He grabs your hand as he slips his own keycard in his pocket.

"You look very handsome, by the way," You whisper in Ralf’s ear as he opens your door. At this point you’re fully in his personal space- not that he minded. You would get touchy and clingy when you had a few drinks, with Ralf especially. "Thank you. Now get in the room, then we can get back," he says as he tries to push you away from him a little. You smile, but both freeze as you hear a door open. "What are the two of you doing here?" Ralf immediately turns around at his brother’s voice. "She forgot her key at the track, so I kept it in my room for her. She came to pick it up but had a few wines, so I just wanted to make sure she’d end up in the right bed," you quickly thank god for Ralf still being sober and able to come up with a lie that quickly. "Go change, I’ll get you a glass of water in a minute," he says and you nod, making your way in. Ralf looks back at his younger brother, who raises his eyebrows, as he closes the door. "I’m just making sure she doesn’t do anything stupid," he sighs, and Paul just shrugs. "We both know she could’ve walked herself, she’s not that drunk. Tipsy at most," Ralf decides not to make a big deal out of it- his brother had a point after all. "She asked me to walk her because she didn’t trust herself to not lock herself in or out. I’m going to get her a glass of water, just go to sleep. You have a race tomorrow," Paul hesitates before he opens his door. "I just… If there is more going on, please just… Be careful. I don’t want her heart broken again. I don’t want to see her or you hurt, especially not because of someone I also care about. I’d like to see you guys together, I just hope neither of you mess it up," before Ralf can form a response, his younger brother has closed the door.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you mumble with your toothbrush still in your mouth. He smiles before spitting out his toothpaste. “Don’t thank me, I’d take care of you even if you were a baby,” he pauses as you look at him with a questioning look. “Ok, wait, no, that sounded wrong just- I’ll always try to take care of you whenever you can’t, because I want you to feel good. Even if it means making sure your drunk ass goes to sleep with brushed teeth and in a sleep shirt instead of the teamwear,” you glance down at your his shirt you’re wearing and raise your eyebrows. He playfully rolls his eyes. "Well, that’s not your teamwear, is it? It’s an old one and it’s mine. Remind me what you usually sleep in?" You blush at his statement, mumbling "your shirts". He smirks as he moves out of the small bathroom, as you finish your night routine- skipping half of it due to your tired and tipsy state. You walk back to find Ralf sitting on his usual side of the bed already, scrolling through his phone. You smile at the view, him casually sitting there waiting for you, and snap a quick picture. You put your phone on the bedside table, slipping under the covers. You put your head on his lap, and he lays his phone next to him to look down at you. You close your eyes for a second, not seeing Ralf still looking at you as with his arms wrapped around you. "Feeling the alcohol again?" You hum, still not looking at him, just allowing it to hit you again. "You know, I like you a lot," You mumble as you finally look at him. He chuckles, "Well that’s good 'cause I like you a lot too," he makes you smile. You move from his lap, allowing him to slide down as you both lay on your sides. You move towards him, giving you a kiss. Although it’s a bit slow and tired, it’s great as ever. You smile, moving on closer to him. You make your way to his shoulder, pushing his T-shirt away. You kiss his shoulder, sucking lightly when you feel him shiver. Y him a fast but strong kiss, moving down not long after. "Wait, wait, wait," You stop immediately, looking up at him. He looks at you and for a second he almost regrets stopping you, wishing he wouldn’t have to say what he says next. “Sorry, just… Not tonight. You look beautiful, tonight though, really,” he softly grabs your face and you move off him. “Oh, I thought you’d be up for it, since-“ He interrupts you and pulls you closer. “I am, but I don’t want to do anything with you after drinking. I know you’re perfectly fine and not extremely drunk but it’s just that we’ve never talked about this, and that’s fine but I feel like I’m taking advantage if you’re not 100% sober and I am. We can tomorrow, if you want to, and we can kiss a whole lot right now cuz I like that too, alright?” You almost melt at his words, nodding along. “You know I’d always tell you if I didn’t want something, right? Because I know how much you respect me. This just shows how perfect you are,” you say, close to his face with your lips almost touching. "Mhm. Just want you to be comfortable," He rubs your arms and you lazily smile. "And I just want to kiss you."

The next morning you wake up with an arm around your waist, though that hadn’t become unusual on a race weekend. You rub your eyes before tapping your phone to check the time- 7.37, plenty of time until either of you have to be at the track. You close your eyes and lay back down, moving closer to Ralf. He lets out a soft groan, mumbling something you assume is along the lines of 'what time is it' against your shoulder. "Not even 8," you whisper as you pull yourself up a bit, running your hand through his hair. He looks up at you, still half asleep, with a content smile. "Is it cliche to say I could lay here for hours?" You mumble as you look at him laying on your chest. He sits up just enough so his face is in front of yours. "Is it cliche to say I’ve imagined moments like this since I first met you?" You chuckle as you look away. "No you haven’t, it took us 6 months and Paul forgetting his boots to properly meet," He rolls his eyes, still smiling. "Alright, I might have exaggerated," it’s quiet for a second as you hold eye contact, eyes occasionally dropping to the others' lips. Ralf grabs your hand, fingers intertwined, as you put your lips against his (or he puts his against yours, you’re not quite sure). The kiss is what you’re used to from Ralf- passionate, sweet, soft, hot and wanting at the same time. As the kiss gets more heated, Ralf pulls away for a breather. "Thanks for saying no yesterday by the way, not a lot of guys would. However, now i’m completely sober and I still want you the same, so…" Ralf chuckles as he looks at the nearest phone for the time. "We have to be at the track in over 3 hours, I’m 100% in. I guess not being a driver does have perks like arriving at the track later," you look at Ralf, already thinking about what was to follow. You smirk, "We’ll take our time then."

Someone who didn’t have the same privilege of arriving a little later, was Paul. Paul, who was currently knocking on your (Ralf’s) door. "Who’s that?" You ask as you stand in the open bedroom, grabbing two towels as you get ready to hop in the shower. Ralf, currently only wearing underwear, quickly throws on a shirt. "Might be Paul, go in," you quickly go in and lock the door, vaguely hearing a conversation after Ralf opens the door. "Do you have my gloves?" Paul asks in Estonian, Ralf quickly answering he’ll take a look and closing the door before Paul can get in. He gets the gloves and gives them to Paul, who stops the older Aron from getting back in without any talking. "Hold on, hold on. You’re not wearing pants." "Yeah, I’d prefer to put some on but I was gonna shower." "Is that why your shower’s running?" Ralf stares at him trying to form a sentence. "Your hair’s all over the place as well, your bed too I'm guessing?" Ralf doesn’t say anything, avoiding eye contact. "Listen, Ralf, I really don’t care who you’re screwing, just don’t fuck up too much with anyone. And for what it’s worth, don’t ruin things with Y/N.” Ralf nods as Paul lets the silence fall. “Do you know where she is? I knocked on her door but she didn’t open." Paul restarts the conversation. "Yeah, probably sleeping. She mentioned before she’ll sleep more when she had something to drink, but she’ll wake up from her alarm. I still have a pass, so I can check in an hour if that’d make you happy." Paul nods, "Alright, thank you. Well, I’ll see you at the track," Paul says his goodbye. "Don’t fuck up!" He says one last time, before Ralf retreats to the room with Y/N in it.  

"Oh, by the way, thanks for yesterday. Especially for making me drink water, absolute life saver because I know I wouldn’t be bothered to," he chuckles, wrapping an arm around you as you close one of the fridges in the Prema garage. "Just taking care of my girl," he mumbles, giving you a kiss on your forehead. “Must be one lucky girl you have,” you hand him a water as he raises his eyebrows with a smile. “Is it cliche to say i’m the-“ you don’t let him finish as you remove yourself from his grip. “Yup. In the morning I can excuse it but just take the compliment. C’mon, we have to watch your brother win this shit,” You start walking away as he jokingly rolls his eyes, missing the lovesick look he gives you afterwards.

You smile at the screen as Paul approaches the last corner. He led the race lap after lap, quickly catching up again after his pitstop and absolutely dominating the race. You look next to you, where Ralf is sitting, quickly moving his eyes back to the screen. You’re standing a little behind the lined up chairs, following the race closely in between Rene and Ralf. “He’s doing it,” you lean in closer, seeing a wide smile appear on Ralf’s face again. “He is. Who’s going on the podium with him?” He asks out of curiosity, and you look around. “Rene, are you going to the podium with him?” Rene nods as he looks at you, “Of course, it’s a first race win tradition!”

Next thing you know you’re standing behind the barrier, holding Ralf’s hand behind it as Paul parks his car behind the number one board. You both have wide smiles on your face as Paul jumps out of the car running towards the team. You and Ralf let go of each other as he hugs him, and you look at them with a smile. “Good job!” You say as he hugs you. You see the smile in his eyes through his lifted visor as he thanks you. You give Dino, who made his way up to third, a quick congrats when he’s celebrated with the team as well. As the two are rushed to the cooldown room, you make your way over to below the podium with the team. You and Ralf walk closely, arms touching each other as Ralf uses his hands to talk about something that happened during the race. Angelina walks behind you, filming everything for the LAP (as usual)- after it was posted you’d find yourself watching back the small moments from you and Ralf throughout the weekend. The podium ceremony goes by, and you sneak a glance at Ralf looking up at his brother on the top step, with the Estonian anthem playing. You squeeze his hands and he looks at you with a smile. After a lot of proud looks shared between the two of you the podium ceremony is over, and before you know it you’re back at the Prema garage with a soaked Paul and Rene. Despite the many cameras and people, you and Ralf stayed very close to each other. Maybe it was the buzz of the win and the happiness radiating through the garage, but for a while you didn’t worry about anyone noticing what’s going on between you two. You were just happy to be there together, celebrating a win. Paul was still buzzing from the adrenaline (and a little bit of champagne) and didn’t pay any mind to the two of you. Rene, though, was very aware of it- he’d known the both of you for years, he’d obviously noticed how you got around each other. He was gossiping with Angelina, who updated him about how close you were during the podium ceremony, showing him the footage of you looking at each other. He glanced at the two of you, you with an arm around him and his around your waist, as Paul and Dino describe their best laps in detail. "I think they’re going to be like us when they get married, managing a race team together. It fits them," Rene tells Angelina, and Angelina smiles. "You’d give them Prema?" He hesitates for a second before answering. "I didn’t say that, but… Maybe, if they want. We’ll see if it goes that way, but I’m not against it," he quickly changes the subject as you approach the two. "What are you two gossiping about this time?" You tease the married couple, and Angelina laughs. "Just the future of the team," you give him a curious look. "Do tell, what do you have in mind?" Rene looks at Ralf with a slight smile and then back at you. "You’ll find out eventually."

Taglist:

@alexk2002 / @thesatansgirl-blog / @haasterplan / @fortunatelylovingsweets / @charles-and-chelsea / @greedayag / @emmabluesky / @sikeyeehaw / @idontwantablogthanks / @adore-u-ls / @starcandy-y / @louisaamz / @langdonsluxiouslocks / @leclercswhore / @vxlesunflower / @ashf1 / @idkiwantchocolatee / @zira44 / @agirlwithmidnightthoughts / @mariiaamr

@breals02 @shewatchesf1 @wilmasvensson @clearavenuementality

like or comment under this post to be added to my taglist!

[wyvernquill]

Narrative Determinism, or: Why Dream Stays In The Fishbowl

Okay, so, this is hugely inspired by a conversation with my dear friend @darkonesdagger7437 who gets preview snippets from my fics now and then - and every time I write Fishbowl Angst(tm), she calls Dream some very choice words, and implies he’s an idiot who could be out of there at literally any point, IF HE REALLY WANTED.

And, well, that got me thinking.

It’s true, isn’t it? From the moment Roderick died, a single sentence, hell, a single word to Alex could’ve set Dream free; and even before that, he probably could’ve found a way to contact his siblings, ask them for help. Hypothetically, he could’ve even bargained with either of the Burgesses for his freedom.

And, for the record, you can easily find a thousand reasons for why he doesn’t do that! I’ve seen a lot of quality discussions touching on Dream’s characterisation, his actions, the relationships he has with his siblings, with Jessamy, and so on and so forth. There’s reasons aplenty in the “text” of the show - not all of them necessarily good reasons, admittedly, and the end effect might still contain a frustrating note of “why couldn’t he just swallow his pride and call for help though?”, but, well, that’s Dream for you. He’s a stubborn fool sometimes.

BUT, setting all those reasons woven into the narrative aside, the simplest explanation is just this, as silly as it sounds:

If Dream had been freed, there would have been no story - or, at least, not THIS story!

I know I’m in part just pitting Watsonians and Doylists against each other all over again, but my point remains: in some way, Dream remains trapped because the narrative NEEDS him to be trapped, to kick off the story of The Sandman. To tell this particular story, Dream needs to stay in that damned bowl for 100+ years, so he cannot take any of the ways out that are offered/open to him.

(If you want to tell another story, however... well, that’s a completely different matter, I say, winking affectionately in the direction of the 1001 Dreamling Hob-rescues-Dream-from-the-fishbowl fics.)

Now, technically this is true for every story, but to me, it gains a different weight in The Sandman, which is, on many levels, a story about stories and storytelling itself. It seems only fitting to especially remind ourselves that Dream, beyond being trapped by in-text circumstances, beyond being trapped by his own stubborn and prideful character, is, above all, trapped by the narrative he is in, and what it demands from him. He is the Lord of Stories... but this one is Lord over him, actually.

...

...OR IS IT, I exclaim dramatically, once more turning to the previously-winked-at fanfics!

Because, you see, canon is only one version of this story. A very influential version that arguably has a certain dominance over others - but, well, the show is already a reimagining of the comics. Which is more The Sandman, then? Is it the one that came first, chronologically - the original? Or is it this newer adaptation, updated, made “better” (in huge quotation marks) by the decades that went by since the original was conceived? Sandman 2.0, New and Improved, The Definitive Edition?

I personally believe that The One True Version Of The Story doesn’t exist. Sure, there is such a thing as (show/comics/book/whatever) canon, referring to what is or isn’t in the text of a specific (more widely spread, more dominant) version, but retellings and adaptations and fanfics and headcanons and what-have-you aren’t automatically lesser or irrelevant just because they’re not The One True Story. (Which, I believe, just from the occasional post of his floating onto my dash, is not so far from Neil Gaiman’s general thoughts on the matter.)

So, bringing the post back to Dream and the narrative he is trapped in: we can break him out of it.

We can imagine a version of the story in which the narrative not only ceases to demand his imprisonment, but in fact now requires an escape! We can send Hob, Jessamy, Lucienne, Death, The Corinthian, or even some lovely OC, to get him out of that fishbowl. We can give him the power to do it himself, one way or another, earlier than in canon. As readers, as writers, WE are Lords over stories, too.

Dream is only doomed by the narrative if we let him be... and, honestly, that’s a strangely reassuring thought. Isn’t it?

[sakura-code]

How much does makoto care for Yuma

In the misfit arc

When they meet or call each other does he ask questions like “are you sleeping well”?,”have you eaten”?,”are you taking your medication”?(if Yuma does?) etc.has mokoto take care of him physically and mentally when he gets the chance?

I can’t help but imagining it

Oh, absolutely! He would act like a worried parent a lot (despite being technically younger than Yuma by biological age) to Yuma.

He started reaching out to Yuma after he realized Amaterasu’s and Peacekeeper’s true intentions with Yuma. He started inviting him to his apartment a lot to provide him a more relaxing environment for him, like to vent his emotions or give him the nourishment he needs or take care of him when he’s sick or check on him in general. He’s also the only one at the time who actually understands and take consideration of Yuma’s feelings about Amaterasu’s and the Peacekeepers’ actions and the result of the murderers and mysteries being made so.

He’s also the one who encourages and pushes Yuma to run away from Amaterasu and find his own life. He helped him to run away from Amaterasu without too much issues. He’s the one who makes sure both Amaterasu and the Peacekeepers are stopped from looking for the Death Detective and “take care of” any people who knew who the Death Detective really was. He is the one who provided the resources like medications, a phone that wouldn’t be able to be hacked by Amaterasu and the Peacekeepers (with the only contact being Makoto himself), a bag of stuff like a blanket, extra clothes and pjs, hygiene kits, and food, and money. He even forged documents so Yuma can go under a fake identity as “Yuma Kokohead” so he doesn’t have to worry about anyone else finding him, and get a job to provide himself.

I know I said they end up separated once Yuma left, but in truth, they still stay connected through Yuma’s unique phone to text him if he is okay, and meeting one-on-one occasionally when Yuma needed to restock on medications or check on him (since Makoto doesn’t trust anybody to end up backstabbing them and get Yuma sent back to Amaterasu). He was absolutely ecstatic to see how happy Yuma is becoming overtime as he worked for the Nocturnal Detective Agency and become close with the detective family, and he then began to help the Agency behind the scene as well like try to keep the Peacekeepers off their tail. There’s even a funny yet wholesome moment I have where when Makoto meets the Nocturnal Detective Agency for the first time, he acts like an ecstatic parent meeting their child’s friends for the first time (shaking their hands and rambling excitedly on finally personally meeting Yuma’s close friends/family that helped and made Yuma’s life so much better, all while there is like guns being pointed at everyone’s head).