#so not being able to agree on things makes it hard to actually Pursue what i want in these areas

[brittlebutch]

actually, having a kind of revelatory moment here of if HRT was something i have been considering for this long, but has remained inaccessible to me, then that means i Do actually have opinions about my appearance/presentation, so just because i can't take That Particular step doesn't mean that there aren't plenty of other avenues i could be pursuing (ie, clothing/accessories/etc.) that i just haven't let myself up until this point. like i don't have to shove it All aside just because there's one thing i can't get -- I'd probably still wind up a lot happier if I took those other steps I've spent all these years ignoring

[miaoua3]

Hello,can you write something about scoups (arranged marriage or sugar daddy)?

hii! sure i can! im gonna go for sugar daddy hcs because that’s more my style (and also because arranged marriage trope never really made sense to me unless your parents force you to marry them so lmao). anyway i hope you enjoy this!🫶

Sugar Daddy! Seungcheol Headcanons:

sugar daddy! seungcheol who got jokingly told he should find himself a sugar baby because he has this all money that he barely spends so might as well “invest” that money and at the same time find someone to spend his days with since he’s been kind of miserable and hard to look at because of how lonely he’s been these last few years

sugar daddy! seungcheol who at first dismissed this idea, thinking it’s ridiculous- who would even want to spend their evening with miserable 35 year old ceo that is a bit socially awkward and stoic at times?

sugar daddy! seungcheol who however couldn’t stop thinking about this ridiculous idea for days until finally, purely out of curiosity (liar) made an account on one of the apps for that sort of stuff, who put way too much thought if the picture he was using as his profile picture was good enough

sugar daddy! seungcheol who spend many nights surfing on that app, swiping left and right, talking to many women who were trying way too hard to impress him and who were lacking this little something that he was looking for, though he wasn’t sure what that something was

sugar daddy! seungcheol who then one night came across your profile, who was mesmerised by your beautiful eyes from the get go, who swiped right so fast, hoping that you would swipe right too…only to see that you already matched him

sugar daddy! seungcheol who spend days talking to you, who was being so respectful and cute, always asking about your day first before anything else, who always says that he doesn’t really like talking about his job and that he would much rather spend listening to you talk about whatever you want

sugar daddy! seungcheol who finally got the courage to ask you out after two weeks of talking every day to you

sugar daddy! seungcheol who made sure to prepare the best possible date for you even when he had little to no experience with dating, who pulled up to your apartment complex in his best audi, who spend entirely too much time slicking his hair back, clad in his best armani suit, who was anxiously rubbing his hands together, waiting for you in front of his car…until you stepped out in the most beautiful red dress ever, making his heart stop beating for a second

sugar daddy! seungcheol who took you to the best restaurant in the whole seoul city, who made sure to be the biggest gentleman ever- opening the car doors for you, as well as every other door, who kept his hand respectfully on your back as he walked you to your table, who pulled out your chair for you, who made sure to pick out the best wine according to your tastes that you mentioned him the first week you were talking

sugar daddy! seungcheol whose heart squeezed with pain when you finally told him the reason behind you joining the app, who gently held your hand as you explained to him how unsupportive your parents were of you pursuing your dream and getting the degree for it, how you have to work multiple jobs to make the ends meet and how you actually just got off work before the date and how you only had an hour to get ready for it

sugar daddy! seungcheol who made sure to take care of you after that date- inviting you on dates every few days, paying you way too much for it than you previously agreed on, after a month you were able to quit one of your jobs, making you have more free time to go on dates with seungcheol (which was totally his goal), who also bought you so many nice stuff because “every beautiful woman should be able to have the nicest of things she dreams of having”

sugar daddy! seungcheol who even after three months of seeing each other and spending almost every day together still refused to sleep with you- you were just so young, more than 10 years younger than he is, who didn’t want to taint your innocence with his dark thoughts and fantasies

sugar daddy! seungcheol all but forgot about his promise he made to himself about not sleeping with you the second you kissed him like a starved woman and with your beautifully big and shiny eyes asked him to fuck you

sugar daddy! seungcheol who didn’t think he would be so into being called ‘daddy’ in bed until one night when he was pounding into you mercilessly, his hips slapping against the skin of your ass, your tear filled eyes looking up at him as you let the word slip out, which made every thought disappear from his mind, focusing on making you cum around his dick while moaning “daddy” the whole time

sugar daddy! seungcheol who started constantly referring to himself as your daddy in bed, he could be fucking you against the glass window of his luxurious condo, his chest pressing against your back as he’s pounding your pussy, his hot breath brushing against your ear as he asks you “who’s your daddy? hm? does daddy make you feel good? cum. cum around daddy’s dick, cream around it”

sugar daddy! seungcheol who after months of this routine eventually caught feelings for you, who was so afraid of messing this up with you, but who couldn’t being himself to stop from seeing you, from taking care of you, who hoped that his feelings would eventually just fade away with time

sugar daddy! seungcheol who let out the biggest sigh of relief when you admitted to him your feelings for him in a shaky voice, who immediately kissed you senseless as he too, in a shaky voice, admitted “i love you too, so so much my sweetheart”

sugar daddy! seungcheol who gets upgraded to boyfriend! seungcheol and who couldn’t be happier about it. who moves you in with him within a month of you two being officially together, who makes you focus all of your energy on your studies (and him)

sugar daddy! seungcheol who was the best thing to have ever happened to you❤️

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

i hope this is okay for you! i think i overdid it on the daddy kink but oh well lol

[romanreignsbae]

Forbidden Desires - Chapter 1

R.R

Y/n was always what everyone considered blessed. Now, being the assistant for the tribal chief had it’s perks. For starters, you rode around in his luxurious bus, that only few people were allowed on.

You also, were granted with being able to fly on private jets to get from place to place, as well as exquisite hotel rooms booked and paid for.

Especially your schedule. Roman Reigns wasn't showing up to every pay per view. Not even every Friday night SmackDown. He made appearances when he felt like it. So you were usually home, that didn't mean you were off work, you had other things to handle.

Many people wanted to be you, or at least wanted your job. While these people we’re wanting your job and status, you were wanting the man you worked for, your boss, none other then Roman Reigns.

You’d been working for him for almost 4 years now. Ever since he pursued his heel character, you’d been hired as his assistant. Being his assistant wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought. You thought he’d order you around to do his dirty work, but working for him was nicer then excepted.

All you really did was keep track of his hectic schedule, pack his luggage for him, and follow him around during meetings and travels...even taking care of something he claimed to be more important then work. And not to mention the money was a plus. He paid you better then you deserved, you swore it was favouritism, for obvious reasons.

Over the years you worked for him, you two created a special bond. Yes, he was your boss. But, he was also your friend. You two would often spend time together even during non work related times. You could find the both of you at a bar together. Or having movie nights in each other’s hotel rooms. You loved it. And maybe loved him..

The only problem in your way was the age gap you two shared. You were in your early twenties whereas Roman was on the verge of 40. The age gap wasn’t even a big deal to you. But, if others found out you’d grown feelings for your boss. All hell would break loose. See, Roman, is extraordinarily popular with females.

Like seriously, he has some die hard female fans. Most around your age. If anyone found out about this little crush you’d developed..well..you’d for starters be fired, and your reputation would be completely destroyed.

So here you are, sitting in the tribal chief’s private jet, waiting to land in Las Vegas. “Alright, only about a hour to go” a familiar deep voice spoke. You looked up to see Roman sitting comfortably in his seat, staring intently at you. “Yeah..” you mumbled.

“Whats up with you? You been like this all flight, completely out of it. What’s wrong are you sick? Do you have a fever? The flu? Is- nevermind..” Roman spoke worried. “No no, im good” you spoke as reassuringly as you could. He looked at you skeptically before closing his Macbook and making his way to sit beside you.

He sat beside you and looked at you for a few seconds before speaking up. “What’s planned for today?” he asked you. You quickly opened your Ipad before checking his schedule. “Well..today your free, tomorrow you have a meeting in the afternoon, its a long one” you told him.

“Damn, I hate the long meetings” he spoke with a smile. “They are the worst” you agreed grinning. “Anyways, since i’m free today, why don’t you and I head out, go do something fun together, away from work..you know after we get settled in..” he spoke almost nervously.

You were surprised to say the least. You didn’t think he would wanna spend his free day with you. “Yeah sure. What do you wanna do?” you asked him while trying to hide your growing smile. “Anything you want. Actually you know what? Lemme take you shopping, Las Vegas is known for their malls” he requested with a wink. Your cheeks started heating up.

“Sure” you spoke softly. He smiled at you before striking up new conversation about some investors looking to partner with WWE. It kept yourself distracted from the mess in your mind. Before you knew it, you landed in Las Vegas, and your uber was here to take you and Roman to the hotel.

Once you arrived to your hotel, you and Roman headed to the front desk to get the keys to your rooms.

“I’m sorry sir but, only one room has been booked-” the hotel worker spoke.

“That cant be! You don’t understand, I called yesterday booking two rooms!” Roman spoke roughly at the worker. Your feelings were hurt to say the least. You didn’t think he’d be this avoidant at sharing a room with you, especially after the favor you did him. You instantly felt your heart swelling and tears coming to your eyes.

You refused to cry over this so you grabbed Roman’s arm. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom, i’ll be right back” you spoke softly. Roman slightly nodded his head before going back to barking at the hotel employee.

You took as long as you could trying to get yourself together in the bathroom. You had just arrived is Les Vegas and he was already making you feel like shit. You didn’t even understand what the problem was. Well, deep down you did...you knew he didn't wanna make the same mistake.

You made your way back to the lobby to see a more calm and quiet Roman standing by the elevators.

“So Y/n..they are all booked and it looks like me and you are roommates for the next few nights” he told me. “I’m really sorry..” he added ashamed.

Your eyes widened. Why was he sorry? He didn’t even do anything. Well apart side from almost making you cry, but thats besides the point.

“Roman..why are you sorry? It’s just a room..no biggie” you spoke, plus it's not like you haven't shared one before.

“Because well, I don’t want you to feel like i’m taking advantage of you..and I don’t wanna make things awkward and weird between us..” he went on nervously.

You both knew he was lying straight through his teeth. That wasn't the real reason.

You took his words in before responding. You reached out and touched his arm reassuringly. “Ro, that’s okay, seriously I don’t mind.” you let him know. You'd be careful this time. He smiled at you almost gratefully knowing you understood.

The hotel room the two of you would be sharing was nothing less then absolutely luxurious. But you weren't surprised, the tribal chief always needed the best.

After the two of you settled into your hotel room, Roman called for an Uber to take you two to the mall. Inside the uber Roman and you made small talk back and forth but no one could deny the elephant in the room.

A little secret the two of you shared was up in the air. Something no one could know about...otherwise everything would be ruined. He warned you, if anyone found out what the two of you shared, it was over.

Everything was.

That was the first chapter of forbidden desires that I've been putting off. I have a lot more sitting in my drafts for you guys that'll be out soon. Also what do you think the little secret is? Let me know what you think of this chapter.

[randombush3]

ubi amor, ibi dolor

alexia putellas x reader

part one

words: 11455 (SORRY THERE WAS A LOT TO FIT IN)

summary: alexia and you as posh + becks part two x

content warnings: it’s gets a little sad but tbh the next part is the one you should be worried abt 🤘

notes: this one covers 2017-2019. i apologise if it’s a bit jumpy because if i covered EVERYTHING you’d be sat here reading for days. also, this part was so slow to be finished because i abandoned it for ages and only just decided i should probs get to finishing it. the next part is the last one!

It’s about three months later, and there is not a silence that can’t be filled with the sound of Alexia’s voice. You don’t know how to prove this, because you leave none to be filled, instead seeking to occupy every spare second granted by your tour schedule to call her, to text her; to talk to her. 

You spend your nights on balconies all over the continent. Your smoking habit is worsening but the excuse of getting some fresh air to do so is a perfect way to weasel yourself out of parties and clubs and late-night chats with your friends. You much prefer to spend your time finding out more about the woman you quickly become obsessed with. She often verbalises her disdain for your disregard for your lungs – something that transcends the language barrier with an overwhelming clarity – but she is glad that you are talking to her either way.

A few times, you go as far as to hop on a secretly booked flight. You never step outside the airport, leaving Barcelona very much stamped in your passport but not on your list of places you have explored, but Alexia is more than content to pursue your hooded figure as you lead her into hidden corners of the arrivals lounge she begins to associate with the racing feeling in her heart when she sees you. Kissing against walls and on hard airport seats is not what feeds most budding romances, but you don’t care. You happily fly to her whenever you have a spare five minutes, and she is more than content to make the time spent physically together worthwhile.

The tour is nearly over. Five shows in three weeks, and then you can traipse back to London to fight off the delayed hangover in the comfort of your own home with meals cooked by your parents to keep you going. One of the worst things about being on the road is the food (or lack thereof), and your athlete gi… Alexia, is unimpressed with your nutrition. You find that she does not agree with most of your lifestyle, yet she seems captivated by it; like she is discovering a different, scarier world, and she can’t close her eyes.

Alexia’s birthday is soon. 

She has enough dread for the event to have communicated it far more efficiently than usual, with most conversations needing to be doubled in length to get past the all-too-familiar grunts of unrecognition. The streets of Barcelona are filled with whispers of a women’s league, and she is unsure of the pressure that is starting to grow on her shoulders. A birthday is inconvenient, she claims, though you only laugh. 

You tell her about Virgil – she knows you love him, she knows you love most things to do with him – and his famous quote. “Labor omnia vincit,” you say, finding it ironic that you are only able to talk to her right now because you skipped out on soundcheck and a run-through with the backup dancers. “Work conquers all. It reminds me of you.” 

Her lilting Spanish laughter fades as she actually thinks about it. 

“Es verdad,” Alexia replies, and you are glad to understand. “Quiero ser la mejor del mundo así que ‘labor omnia vincit’.” 

“You’re speaking Latin with a Spanish accent.” 

“You love my accent.” 

You smile. It’s true. 

…

It hasn’t settled in Alexia’s mind that you, who calls her whenever you can because you miss her opinions and her jokes and the face that you can picture when she speaks, are the same person as the one she sees on Jenni’s phone as the team crowds round the screen to watch a viral video from your concert last night. 

“A birthday present for you, eh, Ale?” Jenni jests, clinging on to Alexia’s admission months ago about her crush on you. She doesn’t know about the reality of it all. No one does, as of yet. 

“Who puts them in these outfits?” asks Leila, mildly outraged at the bedazzled lingerie you’d been dressed in. “There’s nothing to them! They might as well go on stage naked.” 

“It’s fine. They get hot while they’re performing anyway,” Alexia dismisses, not wanting to delve into your issues with your stylist. Well. Her issues with your stylist, who seems to not care about dignity or have any faith in the world’s imagination. (That, and Alexia is not sure she likes this idea of sharing, though she is aware that nothing defines you as hers.)

“Oh, did they tell you that themselves?” She glares at Jenni, and shoulders her way out of the huddle. It’s not Jenni’s fault that her mood has been easily soured, because tomorrow is Alexia’s birthday and then, the next day, she has to get to Madrid for her national camp. The Euros later this year is going to be in the Netherlands, and her dreams for her country are currently far-fetched. It hurts, and you’re well aware of her misery.

In fact, you are so aware that you are on a flight from Oslo on the fourth of February. It’s too special a day to miss. You have once again abandoned soundcheck. 

Alexia receives a text as she slides into her mother’s old car, considering flinging the device out of the window at one of her teammates’ heads after they sang to her at training without the mercy of letting her forget that she is one year closer to the end of her career. At this rate, the career will be full of wasted potential. She is in a terrible mood about it. 

And then she looks at her phone. 

You have really tried to up your game with the Spanish of late, enlisting the help of a private tutor who Skypes you twice a week with new phrases and grammar that mildly resembles that of a dead language you carry more than a passion for. 

You: Estoy aquí!

The only thing she can think to do is slam her index finger on the call button of your contact, nail bending painfully on the glass of the screen. 

Your instructions are clear: “Airport. Now.” 

She drives. 

She drives at an embarrassingly desperate speed, because just over a week is too long a separation and her day has been awful and there is something so magnetic about your presence that she would be going against nature to do anything other than find you. Obviously, find you she does: right in the arrivals lounge, same black hoodie as always disguising your identity. It’s not any busier than usual, and you catch sight of her the minute she pushes her way to the front of the crowd of expectant faces. 

With a weary grin, you walk towards her, and she knows that this game is only temporary. There will be privacy close by, and you can speak then. 

She turns with a nod, and you follow as she takes the usual route, but suddenly there are fingers intertwined with her own and you are stopping her in front of everyone. 

“Feliz cumpleaños,” you say with a pronounced failure and a hilariously concentrated expression. Alexia giggles, and the storm cloud above her dissipates, but the kiss she wants to press to your lips will have to wait. There’s somewhere empty just around the corner, and she tugs your hand to get you to come with her – to match the same haste she has – but you don’t. “Al coche. So we can go to your casa.” 

Her eyebrows raise. 

“It’s your birthday,” you explain, stepping towards her so that the people around you see a couple instead of two women walking in a vague direction. Alexia swallows, body tingling at your proximity. Her body always tingles when you stand near her like this. “It’s your birthday, so I am here for the night. My flight is tomorrow.” 

She understands you entirely. 

She all but drags you to her car. 

Alexia does not even remember what it’s like to be miserable. She is set alight by your presence, by your lips, your hands, your soft greeting that you whisper in her ear when she pulls away to drive you to her flat. It’s a new place, and she is free from the fuss of her mother. 

You smile when she pulls you out, taking your bulging handbag in one hand and grasping yours with the other, and she kisses that smile as she presses you against the mirror in the lift. The bag hits the floor with a thud, your overnight things spilling out because of her carelessness, but you pay the rolling Dior lipstick no mind, too caught up in the way her tongue swirls in your mouth. How her hands grip your waist. 

She’s stronger than last time. She gets stronger every day: she is going to be the best footballer in the world. She is dedicated to her sport. 

Your palms travel up the back of her t-shirt, cold from the metal you’d previously had them pressed against. Alexia flinches as your fingers brush a particular spot, the skin there slightly raised. 

“¿Que pasó?” you ask, head tilted to the side as she draws back, panting. “Are you hurt?”

She examines your eyes. Deeply inquisitive. Full of something that may resemble love in the future. 

Alexia smiles – an expression that she wears mostly when she is thinking about you. You watch as she turns around, the lift jerking to a halt as if to hurry up her slow movements. As she lifts up her t-shirt, you eye the tattoos you are aware decorate her back. There are going to be more someday, she has always been clear about that. 

And, oh. 

You’re not usually so attached. Alexia, it’s apparent, is a complete exception.

She asks you if you like it. You lean forward, and kiss the four words (she must have researched the quote, because you excluded the last when you mentioned it), tongue running over the redness as if you are going to heal the irritation. She moans quietly, more surprised than anything else. 

“Do I get the credit for it?” She shakes her head, which you catch in the mirror opposite, and, before you can voice your protest, she is facing the right way again and kissing you as she leads you to her door. “You know, there’s another quote from him that I much prefer to that one. ‘Labor omnia vincit improbus’ is… Do you know the word workaholic?” Again, her head shakes. She backs you against the wall next to her door, lips attached to your neck as you keen under her touch. 

She slots her leg between yours, and you forget your next sentence. 

It’s a heated kiss. It promises tonight’s activities to you, and you cannot wait for her to unlock her door. 

Your lips run along her neck as she jams her key into the lock. You suck and bite, spurred on by the moans she bites back with a clenched jaw. You find it sexy: her determination to get you inside. And it’s her birthday, after all. She deserves it. You have another gift for her in your bag, but she is grateful for this anyway.

“Inside,” she gasps as you smooth your tongue over the newly-created hickey you just gave her, kicking her door wide open and hauling you through the gap. 

The flat is pitch black, but Alexia knows it well enough to chuck your bag towards the dining table and have you on your way to the bedroom without needing to switch any lights on. But your hands wander, and she gets distracted. She stops you in the middle of the flat, only half a second into your journey, and her life feels so full (especially when you moan like that). The room feels so full. 

The room is full. 

The room is…

“Moltes felicitats, moltes felici–” sings (and abruptly stops) a whole choir of Alexia’s friends and family, the lights switching to bathe the two of you in total mortification. 

Alba’s hand covers the eyes of her cousin’s six-year-old, whose mouth has formed a perfect circle.  

Silence washes over what looks to be a surprise birthday party. One which Alexia was assured yesterday was not going to happen. By multiple guilty attendees! 

Alexia looks helplessly between you, her mother, and the shit-eating grin on Jenni Hermoso’s face, remembering herself promptly when Eli’s eyes drop to the placement of her hands on your bum. She almost jumps away from you. 

“Fuck off,” you mutter under your breath, stewing in the terribly awkward silence as Alexia’s eyes only grow wider and wider. “Alexia.” 

She breaks from her frozen state, thawed by the husk of your voice. 

“Jo…” 

The crowd explodes, and you let the tsunami of Catalan wash over your ears. There is so much noise, and so many people, and you can only watch as Alexia tries to answer all of their questions. She shakes her head, nodding at the same time, switching between two different languages to cover the shrieks from Jenni and the absolute bollocking her mother is giving her in front of everyone about dignity and respect. You are famous, says Eli, and you do not need Alexia’s horny motives to embarass you like that. 

“She’s a celebrity,” Eli chides with a glare at her daughter, eyes softening as you continue to stare at the sea of faces blankly. You are backed against a wall with nowhere to run. “Alexia, introduce us to your girlfriend. Now.” 

“You guys don’t need to be introduced to her!” Alexia replies like a petulant child, nearly crossing her arms and stamping her foot. “You know her name, and you’ve seen her. So you should all leave, really. Mami, I told you I didn’t want a party.” 

Eli’s hands fly from her body to halt the departure of the guests as they catch on to how unwanted they are. “No, we are still going to have this party,” she insists. It’s the final decision. “So, go on. Introduce us.” It’s definitely not a question. 

You clear your throat, wanting to save Alexia somehow. “Hola,” you begin, and every face breaks out into a beaming grin. “Um. Soy Y/n. Y… soy de Inglaterra?” 

“Sí,” Eli says with a swell of encouragement that you can feel from two metres away. 

 “Alexia,” you plead. 

“Guys, this is Y/n. She doesn’t speak Spanish, and she definitely does not speak Catalan, so either you practise your English or we cut the cake Mami has made and then you–”

“I am a big fan!” Jenni squeals, accented words loud and piercing as she surges towards you, sparking the movement of the entire body of people. No one listens to the rest of Alexia’s declaration. 

… 

There is a reason you are so well-liked, Alexia determines. She can see it as you interact with her family and closest friends. You smile and you listen and you remember things about people that they would deem insignificant. And it helps that you look breath-taking while doing it all.

Sitting at her dining table, Alba on one side, her mother on the other, she watches you flit around her flat with a talent for socialising, charming every person you speak to. 

“She doesn’t know how you feel, does she?” Eli comments, noticing the hesitation in her daughter’s expression. 

“I don’t know how she feels,” is what Alexia replies, because there is no way you can ignore the emotion she pours into your conversations. It exceeds that of a simple crush or hormone-fuelled desire. “She is incredible. I am me.” 

“You are Alexia Putellas.” 

“And she at least likes the way you kiss her,” Alba chimes in, her contribution unnecessary but making Alexia blush at the memory. The fact that her entire family saw that, most of them knowing where you were heading, is something she might be tossing and turning about at night for a while yet. 

“Your father would love her.” 

“I think so too,” Alexia says, chin resting on her palm as the world melts away, your eyes briefly meeting with hers as one of the children giggles at the face you have just pulled behind their mother’s back. A pang of disappointment reverberates in her chest as she grieves momentarily over the loss of her favourite person on Earth, wishing he could have shared the traumatic experience of today. He would’ve laughed so hard at her face when the lights went on.  

“She seems lovely, really. Very polite. Is it because she’s English?” 

“She is very…”

“I suppose the Latin came from her?” Alba asks with a smirk, prodding the fresh tattoo over the thin material of Alexia’s t-shirt, grinning as her sister hisses in pain. 

“Next time, we can go somewhere quieter and talk properly. I know that you’ll be busy when tonight is over.” 

Both Alexia and Alba shudder. “Mami!” her little sister groans, suppressing her gag. 

“Sex is nothing to be ashamed of, Alba.” 

“Never say ‘sex’ in front of me again,” Alexia tells her smug mother.

“Well, never get so caught up in the moment that you don’t notice the balloons taped to your flat number.” 

Alexia bolts outside to check, and hates herself when she sees them. 

…

“Dance with me!” 

You grab Alexia’s hand, pulling her towards you. The party has lasted longer than she’s happy with, and you have seemingly forgotten about what you could be doing. You love to dance. You love music. 

The little boy who’d been your partner up until now sticks his tongue out at Alexia, and she reciprocates the gesture. She is the birthday girl, after all. 

You don’t understand a word of the music, but the beat flows through your hips as you move them against her. She runs her hands up and down your sides, your tank top now the only layer between your skin and her impatient fingers, hoodie having been stripped off the minute the party became interesting. 

“My mother likes you,” Alexia whispers into your ear as you sway in time to the rhythm. Her lips brush your ear lobe, and you shiver despite the growing heat between you. 

“This was very much a surprise,” you giggle in response, possibly answering wrong because her Spanish didn’t quite catch.

“Mhm.”

“I can’t wait for them to leave.” 

Her eyebrows furrow. “You are not having fun?” 

“I am,” you reply with a nod, a smirk slowly creeping into your content expression. She holds her breath, reminding herself of the presence of her family as you grind into her. “But I also can’t wait to fuck you.” 

Alexia shudders.

“I will tell them to go.” 

They cut the cake. 

They sing again, completing the lyrics this time. You are even taught them before-hand, pushed out to the side of the crowd, very much silently told that you currently hold no place in Alexia’s life in comparison to these people. They all love her. You aren’t there yet. 

But, she values your presence. 

Alexia doesn’t care much about the people here tonight. She sees them almost every day, and she knows they are constants. What she does care about is you. 

You, in that tank top. You, with your hair down, face fresh even though your day must have been exhausting. You, with a red mark on your collarbone that no one knows how to point out to you in English. 

Soon, everyone is gone, and you are panting underneath her. Her lips capture yours, muffling the groan that comes with the movement of her fingers inside you. Your legs wrap around her body tighter, heels digging into her back. 

Her hair falls around you; encapsulating you, surrounding you with only her. Her smell, her taste, her fingers. 

You moan as her determination to destroy you becomes apparent. She hits every spot that has been neglected for the past few months, and though it is the first time the two of you are doing this, it’s as if Alexia has studied your body for years already.

She breaks apart from you as you come, your back arching off the mattress, chest pressing against hers. She wants to see your face for the first time. If she had a camera, she would have used it. You look beautiful. 

Nothing on Earth compares to the cliff you have just been pushed off, and it is as if you are falling for eternity. 

She goes again, and again, and again. She’s an athlete. 

She ruins you, but her strong arms hold you together afterwards. 

You fall asleep, for the first time in a while, with someone by your side. Whose hands find purchase on her favourite part of you, pulling you on top of her as she whines at your own tired attempt to make her feel good. Alexia whispers that she has been given enough, that she doesn’t need it, and she thinks you fall asleep to the sound of her incomprehensible, breathy Spanish. You cling to her. 

…

The tour ends. 

You couldn’t be happier. The final show is a blessing, and the tears in your eyes are of joy. You, Gio, and Anya are going home at last. 

However, the well-decorated flat you walk into lacks everything possible, because there is no Alexia standing in the middle of the living room. She can’t be here, though you wish things were different. The season has been successful for her so far, and she is busy. 

You really miss her. One night wasn’t enough. It will never be enough, and you are starting to realise the gravity of your blushes. 

You like Alexia, and you have fallen hard and fast.

“You’re not coming back with us,” your brother says knowingly, skiing beside you down the picturesque blue run in Les Gets. You have come here every year since you were eight. April is a little later than usual, and the snow often turns to slush towards the afternoon – though one could argue that is simply a cue to move onto apres-ski – but it is pleasant to be on holiday with your family. People try to bother you, but it is easier to pretend you don’t see their waves when you have your ski goggles pulled over your eyes. 

Your brother coughs, not pleased that you are ignoring him, reducing him to ‘everyone else’. (His ego, far too preened, far too large, cannot handle the idea of that.)

In front of the two of you, your father turns with precision and great technique. You can’t relate: you’re drunk. You have been since this morning. 

“Sorry?” Your innocence is pretence and he rolls his eyes behind his Oakleys. 

“Your flight. I saw it was booked to take you somewhere else. Somewhere you’ve been going a lot.” 

“You’re not subtle.” 

“You’re not subtle,” he replies, skis dangerously close to yours. You have to swerve, sending you onto the off-piste section of the run much to your irritation. With the excuse of tackling the jumps, however, you are lucky to evade further questioning, watching as he glides off into the distance, reaching the banner and skidding to a halt to wait for you and your mother. Your mother prefers to drink more than ski. She is always holding up the rear. 

When you return to the chalet, bought by your parents a decade ago to solidify their roots in Les Gets, your brother seems to have remembered your conversation from earlier. Your parents have gone out for dinner, leaving the two of you to make something for yourselves. He is glad to have you alone. 

“You don’t like lads, do you?” And, in truth, it’s an insightful question by his standards. He cares; he just does not know how to show it. 

Pausing the construction of your sandwich for a moment, you allow him to see you for who you are. He’s your brother, after all. “Not at all,” comes your response. 

He hums. “Thought so. You’d have gone out with half of England’s football team otherwise. God knows that they don’t mind.” 

“England has a women’s team.” 

“Gross.” His lips purse as he thinks about his little sister’s love life, and he decides that he would like to know more about Barcelona. “Are you buying a villa?” 

“What?” 

“Well, you go to Barcelona a lot. Are you buying a villa with the girls? Is that what celebrities do?” 

You roll your eyes. “Mum and Dad buy villas. It isn’t just celebrities who splurge on property.” 

“You’re not answering my question.” 

“I wish you’d never become a lawyer.” 

He laughs – hearty and deep. His laugh reminds you of dark forests for some reason; tall trees that dwarf your body, but keep you safe nonetheless. “I wish you’d never gotten famous. My life would be so much quieter if half my mates weren’t trying to squeeze something or other out of my connections.” His pride is profound in his misery, and you smile, blushing. “You’re not buying a villa.” 

“Well done, genius,” you taunt, assembling your sandwich once again in hopes that the baguette will kill the buzz in your mind. You can’t really think when you’re drunk, and, recently, when there is nothing else to occupy you, your mind wanders to Alexia. What is she doing now? Does she miss you? Is she excited to see you in three days? 

It dawns upon his face with an amusing animation. “You’re seeing someone,” he accuses. 

“Maybe,” you shrug. “She’d be one lucky girl.” 

“One unlucky girl, you mean. I’d better find out who she is and tell her to run for the hills. You’re about two decades overdue for an exorcism, and it shows.” He swiftly appears behind you, despite his lumbering limbs, and flicks your ear as your teeth sink into your dinner. You squeal, pushing backwards to get him away from you. “What’s her name? Who is she? What does she do?”

“She is… classified.” 

He reaches for his phone. “I’m going to find a list of Spanish names and see which one turns you into a tomato.” 

“She’s still classified.” You prod your index finger into his shoulder.

“Hey.” You retract your finger, surprised by the tenderness of his tone. “You can tell me, you know. You’re my little sister. I really don’t give enough of a fuck to spread it.” 

With great shame, you absolutely do not need to be told twice to talk about your favourite Spanish woman on the planet at the moment. He actually has to beg you to stop. 

…

Things with Alexia are good. 

Not just in terms of your relationship, but in general, too. Walks are more enjoyable, and so are mornings, afternoons, evenings. She likes that you feel comfortable to chill in her flat while she goes to training. She likes that she comes home to you. She likes that you spend your days with a pencil between your teeth, a blank page set out in front of you. 

Now that the tour is over, it is clear what comes next. The new album will be the best ever made, you have decided, because you might finally understand the lyrics that you sing. They could resonate. 

They will resonate. 

Alexia asks you to be her girlfriend when she drops you off at the airport. Your plane is private and she can kiss you goodbye when you agree. 

You love being Alexia’s girlfriend. You repeat your new identity over and over as you fly back to London, and it is a mantra that plays on loop in your mind as you get on with life back home. 

The girls tease you mercilessly when you spill it. All three of you are on the balcony, though this time there is a joint placed between your fingers rather than a cigarette. Slightly high, more so giddy about Alexia, you confess. They’re happy for you, but Gio can’t help but text Anya later that night. 

Gio: Have you seen the new plan? 

Anya: What plan? 

Gio is sitting upright in her bed, ensuring that her panic is quiet so her new boyfriend does not wake up. Her fingers hover over the keys shamefully, but she has to tell someone and it can’t be you.

Gio: The publicity plan. 

It’s at your studio session the next day when all comes to light. Your manager/publicist appears, which is honestly quite rare. She’s not fond of the claustrophobia of the small room, nor the darkness it becomes shrouded in when you, Gio, and Anya are trying not to murder each other. 

Dave swivels around on his chair, bored with the bickering. You aren’t sure about a lyric, but they disagree, even if Anya knows you have a better point than the third member of your group. 

Your manager clears her throat. “Y/n, may I speak with you? It’s quite important.” 

“Do this lyric without me,” you grit out to Gio. 

“It’s your solo.” 

“I don’t care.” 

With that, you follow your manager into the corridor. 

They hear your protests from the studio, the shout of frustration piercing through the small gap underneath the door, overcoming the supposedly impregnable sound-proofing. 

There are tears streaming down your face upon your return. Fuck her, and fuck him. 

Anya and Gio can’t look at you. Their chins dip to their chest as they slump in place, succumbing to the predetermined guilt they discovered last night. 

“It’s not fair,” you cry to them as they refuse to turn around, throwing yourself onto the sofa with a heaving sob. “It’s not fair, it’s not fair. She’s going to hate me — she’s not going to love me anymore, and I… I love her.”

Anya’s mouth opens with a sob of her own. She had thought Alexia was a dalliance. She hadn’t realised. 

It’s fun to have someone, she knows, but it is painful to love them. 

You are clearly not enjoying yourself now. 

“You love her?” she asks, though she is sure of the answer as another gasp leaves your body with a chilling desperation. 

“Yes, I fucking love her. It was obvious.” 

“But you—”

“Because I’m not out!” 

“So what did she tell you?” 

“They want it to last a few months. Enough to draw the attention away from my aversion to men and his relationship with some blogger.” 

Anya gulps. A few months is a lot to endure, especially for the footballer whose heart you’ll be breaking. “You’ve said no, right?” she tries, paling as she grips onto the mic stand, trying in vain to remember the harmony she is supposed to sing. “You’ve told them… You’re you, of course you’ve said no!”

“Of course,” Gio adds, equally in denial. 

You can only shake your head. 

You were not given a choice. 

Telling Alexia is hard, and not just because of the tears running through your words as you try to get them out over the phone. 

In Barcelona, her head hangs in disappointment. She is never going to be good enough for you, she tells herself. The world will soon slot you by the side of another celebrity, and you will be pictured together as many times as humanly possible. No one will know that she is the one you call when you need to talk to someone, or that it is her rose that is pressed between your favourite copy of Little Women, saved from Sant Jordi. No one will be any the wiser to the girlfriend you keep in Spain, nor assume that you are visiting the country for a reason other than tourism and partying with your favourite foreign men’s football team. 

It goes like this for months. 

It sours the second- place finish in the league even more; makes the Champions League semi-final exit soul-destroying; and completely ruins her joy about winning the Copa de la Reina (worsened by a picture of you and him released the morning of the final). 

She is still your girlfriend, but she is always one step behind you. She is in the shadows of the crowd when you sell out Wembley for the first time, and is just out of frame in the picture captured backstage of you and your lover embracing. His muscles do not feel the same as Alexia’s, but he becomes a friend, you guess. He isn’t fond of the arrangement either. 

Then, when Alexia feels as though she might explode from the jealousy she harbours, she is tested once more as you go radio silent for a day. It’s unbearable. You usually text her every hour. 

She misses hearing you greet her with ‘I took a smoke break’. She misses the taste of your lips, and the heat of your breath, and the swell of emotion you cause inside of her when you show her that you really care. 

It’s a hard day. The Euros have started, and Spain has won their first two group stage matches. Vilda is terrible as usual, but it is nothing in comparison to the cavity left in her chest where you have carved out your notifications. Alexia has never wished to be distracted from football before, but today is clearly Judgement Day. 

“Is this about your girlfriend?” Jenni pesters, mocking Alexia’s frown by exaggerating it on her own face. “She’s not pinging your phone every five minutes and now you’re inconsolable.” 

“I have many things to be upset about,” Alexia replies moodily, though Vilda’s earlier berating has had no effect on her mood because it simply cannot get worse. “Our coach is shit, and we don’t get treated like England or Holland does.”

“And your girlfriend hasn’t texted you.” 

“Yes, Jenni. She hasn’t texted me.” 

She sighs. 

Jenni is repulsed by the fire in Alexia’s belly seemingly having been put out. Her grimace is noticeable as she bends down to unlace her boots, glancing around the shoddy locker room, imagining what Alexia claims a few of the other teams have. 

“Maybe she’s busy. She is, like, famous. She could be out for lunch with Shakira!” 

“No, that was last month.” 

Jenni pauses for a moment, awestruck at her friend's seriousness, before collecting herself and trying another approach. “Why don’t we do some shooting practice while you wait for her to call? That way, Spain gets more goals, and you’re…” 

She doesn’t get to finish, cut off by the alarming brrrp of Alexia’s phone. Her friend saddens at the volume, pitying Alexia for how loud she has turned her ringer up just in case she had been missing your notification all along. 

Alexia swipes her phone up from the bench, and hurries into the toilets. 

Throughout the five months you have been dating, Alexia has become increasingly more aware of your intense reactions to emotional situations. You feel when you feel. She admires you for your work ethic, as you do her, because you fly from Barcelona to London and back again, all while writing songs, humming melodies, and holding together your high-profile life. Unfortunately, your determination and tendency to give everything and more has bled into every aspect of your life. And you are a wreck when she finally gets a word out of you. 

“Tranquila, cariño,” she tries as you suck in a pathetically shallow breath. She knows exactly how many kilometres away from her you are, and she wishes she could sprint the distance. “Tranquila. What has happened?” 

“I… I fired her.” 

“Who?” 

“My manager.” Alexia’s hand balls into a fist and she quietly celebrates. Well, until you sob again. “I mean, we all fired her. But now we have no manager and Dave is concerned about the structure of our group and the album sucks and it’s shit and HE tried to kiss me yesterday, even though he’s got a girlfriend too!” 

“Búa, más slower, por favor. I’m not inglesa!” 

Life, even if you are upset right now, starts to look up. You even get to spend a month with her, practising your Spanish (mejor-ing your nivel de español), meeting her family in a more appropriate context, and even watching the first match of the 2017-2018 season. Which Alexia is adamant they will win. 

…

She proposes in November; a year after you kissed. 

It’s not a hard decision to make. Not when you have built IKEA furniture together, and spent a week in Menorca with her, her mother, and her sister. Not when her English is littered with your vocabulary and references to Virgil and the like, and your family can all shout at you in Spanish because they’ve heard her do it so many times. Not when ‘I love you’ is the easiest sentence she’s ever said. Every minute of her life that she gives you is like exchanging part of her soul for pure, complete bliss. 

You’re fucking freezing, and befuddled at the fact that Alexia has requested to take a walk in the park near your flat. Your Spanish girlfriend, the same woman who finds summer too temperate in England, has somehow turned into a snow-lover, even if there is only damp grass and a biting wind. Alexia wishes England had white Christmases, but it’s a myth, she has discovered. 

The ring sits in her coat pocket. She chose it with Alba before she left the warmer climate of Barcelona, and her sister did not ask her whether she was rushing into things. It’s not too soon; if anything, she should’ve asked a year ago. 

“Fuck me, it’s cold,” you groan as you shiver. She takes your hand, her woollen gloves itchy against your bare skin, but it warms you up. “We could be inside, in bed. There’s a new series we could start, or, I don’t know, don’t you have some football game to watch?” 

“I hate watching football with you.” 

You part your lips to respond, but she is not lying and she has said it before. Some bullshit about you supporting all the wrong teams. 

“Well, I hate it when you drag me out into the freezing cold for no reason. If you want a dog to bring on walks, just say so. We can go to Battersea before you leave tomorrow.” 

“Don’t,” she murmurs, halting you both near the inky water of the lake you have been circling for the past five minutes. It sucks that her visits are temporary, even if you are technically moved into each other’s homes (she has your keys, you have hers). With the remaining time left before her flight tomorrow at noon, she has worked up the courage to do it now. 

It’s like scoring a goal: receive the pass; dribble; gear up for it; shoot. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Her free hand reaches into her pocket. “Nada.” 

“No, you’re acting weird…” You blink a few times as if to adjust better to the dim light coming from the distant lampposts. A plop sounds from the water, and she jumps. She’s on edge.

“No.” 

“Yes. Jesus, you haven’t decided to break up with me in the middle of a park at night, have you?” Your question packs an unnerved insecurity, and she feels a little guilty about the suspense. She fiddles with the ring in her pocket, and then she takes a deep breath. “Hey,” you try tenderly. “Seriously, Ale, what’s wrong?” 

“Te lo dije. Nothing.” 

“So what’s in your pocket?”

“Nothing.” 

“Are you sure?” 

She sighs, “here,” and she grabs your hand to press it into the soft warmth inside. And there’s a piece of metal, heated by her fingers. With a chunk of rock on top of it. It feels like an engagement ring. You’re probably not getting broken up with tonight. 

“Are you proposing?” 

“Are you saying yes?” 

“Yes.” 

“Hòstia.” She frowns, and you consider pushing her into the lake. “I am going to say it now.”

“But you already—”

A quick display of her athleticism, for the muscles exist despite being buried underneath all those layers, and she is down on one knee. Her joggers will have wet patches, and she hates the squelch of the mud beneath her, but she has a perfect view of your surprise. Your tears. 

“Bueno. Your brother helped me to… write the speech,” she starts, and her rehearsal is adorable. Although, honestly, you don’t hear what she has to say because you have already made up your mind. 

You tell her yes in as many languages as you can. 

And she thanks you with breathy moans into your mouth as you guide her towards a bench, and then your flat, and finally your bed. 

When you are finished, well into the early hours of the morning she will have to leave, you climb out of bed, missing the firm grip of her toned arms the minute you’re out of it. There is a burning, overwhelming sureness inside of you that you can’t escape. You know it is soon – probably too soon for most – but there is a person out there for everyone, and yours is right in your bed. 

Your guitar, slightly dusty from the neglect because of your frequent visits to Barcelona, rumbles when you pluck it from its stand, collapsing into the armchair beside your bed with a groan, feeling the ache of your muscles that only affirm just how good a time you’ve had with your fiancée. 

You don’t play anything interesting, but the noise is enough to rouse Alexia from her heavy slumber. She lifts her head from where it has been buried within the silk pillows of your bed, and watches as your fingers pluck the nylon strings with vague allusion to one of your older songs. The weight of her ring – your engagement ring – does not seem to affect your playing: in fact, Alexia realises your hand was naked without it. You hum, fingers beginning to itch for a cigarette the minute the guitar starts to bore you, and she clears her throat. 

Her grin is self-satisfied and certain. “Me voy a casar contigo,” she says into the dark stillness of your bedroom.

“I love you,” you reply.

…

Being engaged is fun. 

Like, really fun. 

You stay in Barcelona in December, hiding from the bitter chill of England. No one questions it, and the absence of a manager grants you so much freedom. The girls pop to the city one weekend to brainstorm a song, but, other than that, you are content to forget your own identity and become Alexia’s fiancée, one of the regulars at the increasingly more popular Barça Femení games (only the team know you’re there, able to see through the caps and sunglasses). 

There are still rumours circulating about you and him, though their credibility has lessened ever since he revealed himself to have been in LA for a while. To the world, you’re sort of MIA. They catch you occasionally when you return to London for photoshoots or just to chat with your friends and family, but they get nothing more. Your Instagram posts are few and far between, and the most recent paparazzi picture is of you leaving Gio’s house to buy her a pregnancy test. 

When the test is positive, something is tweaked inside of you, and you return to Barcelona – a place that is now your home too – carrying a lead-ish guilt. 

Alexia loves her football, and Alexia is obsessed with her career. You are too, but you have done what you can, really. The BRIT nominees will be announced tomorrow, and you know that you and the girls are on that list. You have your fame, you have your money. But Alexia has neither, and she should. Especially when her male counterparts are raised high and mighty on large, golden platforms. 

You know just how ambitious she is, and that is why you lack surprise when you enter her flat to find her hunched over her iPad at the dining table, replaying the same twenty-second clip over and over until she has identified every single fault and created a plan to correct them. 

She barely registers your presence, but you don’t mind how absorbed she is in her footage. It is nice to make the ever-composed Alexia jump when you slink up behind her, pressing your lips against her neck. She dissolves herself in the fuzzy feeling you give her.

“Hola,” she says, regaining control when she spots another mistake, grasping her pen tightly as she scribbles down Spanish words you can’t be bothered to read. 

“Hola,” you reciprocate, though you are a lot more enthusiastic about it. “Tengo una pregunta.” 

“Oh no.” You wrap your arms around her shoulders, and she relaxes. Your ring reflects the light from her screen as if to remind her that you are hers, and that softens her previous sternness slightly. Another kiss to the skin behind her ear, and she is more open to talk. 

Clicking your tongue, you think of where to start. “Okay, first, I have news.”

“About Gio? Is she okay?” 

“She’s… pregnant.” The emergency you were recalled to London for was actually a pleasant surprise for her and her boyfriend. You’re unsure about how committed they are to each other, and whether a baby is a great idea, but you held your tongue when Anya shook her head at you. 

“Uf. Pobrecita, ¿no? She loves tequila.” 

“She does love tequila,” you agree with a chuckle. You extend your hand slightly and press pause on the footage. Alexia pushes back against you. Her chair scrapes against the wooden floorboards, but there is a gap between her and the table now. She motions for you to sit in her lap. 

She tilts your chin up and kisses you gently: a welcome home kiss. “¿Qué pasa, mi amor?”

“What would you do if I told you that I was pregnant tomorrow?” 

“I would ask you if you have been cheating on me with a man,” she replies instantly. You laugh, head falling forwards, resting on her shoulder. She runs her hands up your sides, fingers firm, thighs tensing underneath you. 

“But hypothetically. If it were possible,” you continue, a smirk working its way onto your lips, guilt forgotten. You may have spent your plane journey scrolling through pictures of Alexia with the various babies in your life. It was a self-indulgent act, and it has very much led you to now. 

Her eyebrows furrow with the adorable crinkle in between them, and she is seriously trying to work out if she is missing something. You go to London, you come back, you want a baby? 

But she loves you. And she is very intrigued. 

“Is it mine?” 

“Yes, it’s yours.” 

She watches the smirk on your face blossom into a smile, and she feels a matching one tug her lips upwards. “Is it going to support España or England?” The latter is pronounced in your accent, and you make a mental note to ask Jenni if she has been doing impressions of you to her teammates. 

“It can choose when it’s older,” you say, waving off her stupid football question. Since dating her, your interest in football has decreased. She has sort of put you off. You only really watch it to watch her now, or when United are playing an interesting game and your father is antsy enough to text you every minute. 

“No, it can’t.” You blink. She pulls you into her. “It chooses now. Spain or England, and Manchester United or Barcelona. There are right answers.” 

“Manches–”

“Wrong! I think I will have to make sure the baby is not brainwashed.” 

You panic for a moment. “Wait, you do know I’m not really pregnant, right?!” 

Alexia is not the most ready for children, but she is always prepared to give you everything you want. “If you want a baby, mi amor, let’s make a baby. Sin chicos.” You giggle coyly as she hoists you up – the display of strength exuding an unbearably sexy cockiness. “And after,” she says in between kisses as she stands, “we can look on the Internet for options.” 

“¡Vamos!”

…

The Barcelona women’s team congas its way back into the Home team changing room of the Joan Gamper, following a 7-0 win. Alexia kicked off the goal-laden game in the sixth minute, and she is on cloud nine. Victory is the sweetest taste in her mouth, and one where she knows you are watching is even better. 

Mapi flicks her shoulder as they dance to the music bursting from someone or other’s speaker. “You’re so happy,” she says, her grin wide and eyes shining. They dance topless, most of them, but Alexia has subtly been rushing to get dressed and find you. Barcelona is a beautiful city, and she has promised that you can take her to dinner somewhere now that your morning sickness has subsided and only started to affect you when it is supposed to. 

“We just won,” she explains over the shouts of joy from her teammates. 

María León joined from Atleti this season, but she has known Alexia longer than that, and she can tell when there is something more to football in her emotions. Though it is a well-kept secret, Alexia has two obsessions, and you are one of them. 

“Yo sé. But you have been very happy recently, in general. Except, you don’t come out for team nights or hang back to practise more after training, so it is definitely to do with Y/n.” Alexia’s absence in her teammates’ lives is actually unusual, seeing as you are very encouraging and a firm believer in the ‘work hard, play hard’ mentality. Your urging is what sends Alexia to bars and clubs with the girls, though she has neglected all of these outings ever since you showed her your positive pregnancy test (best belated birthday present ever). “So… what’s going on?” 

“You’re so nosy.” 

“I’m interested. I love her, and I want to know how she has made it so that you haven’t had a bad day for the last three months, even when we lost to Bilbao. Is it sex? Does she suffer through–”

“No!” Alexia interjects, cheeks reddening. Mapi smirks at the twenty-four-year-old, proud to have embarrassed her. She still claims that she is not a prude. Her phone buzzes on the bench – you’re asking how long she is going to take.

Mapi swipes Alexia’s clean clothes from her grip, holding them behind her back as she giggles at her friend’s exasperation. “Tell me, or go outside like that.” 

“Good thing it’s May,” Alexia shrugs, grabbing her phone and bag, knowing you won’t at all mind spending time with her in just her sports bra. She is pulled back by Mapi, who has hooked her finger into the waistband of Alexia’s shorts and yanked hard enough for them to have stretched. 

“Ale, tell me.” 

“No. You’re a gossip.” 

“I’m not a gossip.” 

“You so are.” 

“Am not.” 

“So it wasn’t you who told Leila about Patri’s crush when I made it clear that we weren’t even supposed to know?” Mapi shifts uncomfortably, letting go of the shorts. “And it definitely wasn’t you who let everyone find out about my engagement because you don’t know what an inside voice is?” 

“Hey, you never specified that you were going to be sneaky about it!” she defends, as she has done ever since the entire canteen went silent in shock and then, two seconds later, broke out into a clamour of pleas to be bridesmaids and to get Bad Bunny invited to the wedding. 

“It was implied,” Alexia shoots back with a glare. 

“Fine. Be annoying. I’ll just ask Y/n.” 

“She doesn’t want to talk to you. She’s got better things to do.” 

“Ouch,” Leila says, patting Mapi on the back as she shoves her way into the conversation. The two are partners in crime, and Alexia hates that she is now outnumbered. “But tell us. Please, Ale.” 

“We’ll even not nutmeg you for a week.” They love to try. It’s their highest priority mission.

“A month,” Alexia negotiates. 

“Yes! Just tell us.” 

“Y/n is pregnant.” Three months down the line is not necessarily when she wants to announce her personal business to the entirety of Spain, but you both know that it’s safe to tell people now.

Mapi laughs. “Ay, Alexia, you don’t have to lie to us.”

She looks at her friends blankly, having not expected this reaction. When she told her mother, the woman at least had it in her to take it seriously (albeit with quite the cautious ‘are you sure?’). “I’m not lying,” she then says, more to Leila than the giggling Mapi in front of her.

“You’re not…?” Leila tries, grappling with it. Two pairs of eyes drift down to Alexia’s crotch, squinting at the material as though some previously concealed appendage is going to jump out at them.  

Alexia clears her throat. 

“I’m sorry. How?!” 

“The normal way most lesbians–”

“She’s, like, actually pregnant? Like, de verdad, she is pregnant?” 

“Or she’s smuggling a lime under her shirt.” Her nod is small and she has the glimmer of a smile on her face despite Leila and Mapi’s gobsmacked expressions. Her phone buzzes: it’s you again. “And, if you two don’t mind, I don’t want to leave her waiting for me outside.” 

“Because she’s…” 

“Exactly.” 

When she finally escapes the changing room, she climbs into her car. With heartbreak from both you and your dad, you have sold your i8 in favour of getting Alexia a Land Rover. Most of your money is in savings. You earn loads, but it is hard to find things you want to spend it on, and a lot of it goes towards private jets to get you to and from Alexia. 

You are sitting in the passenger seat. “Jugaste bien,” you say as her hand moves up from its instinctive resting place on your thigh, settling on the growing swell of your stomach. “I’m so hungry. I could eat a horse.” 

“A horse?” 

“Or a house. Or, I don’t know, an entire cavalry. Feed me.” Her alarm — a mistranslation — causes her to almost run over the steward directing her out of the car park. “Tengo mucha hambre, Ale.” She nods with a roll of her eyes. She’s been warned about pregnant women. 

…

In the bustling excitement of Estadi Johan Cruyff, which has slowly filled with more and more fans in the time you have known the plastic seats and improving pitch, you find yourself in the midst of an unexpected turn of events. With your due date approaching and Alexia’s insistence that you are surely made of glass, you have been forced to part from your sisters (Gio and Anya) and live in Barcelona. She wants the baby to be born here. You’ve negotiated that the next one will be had in London. 

Alexia’s mother notices the deep breath you take in, well-acquainted with the horror on your face having worn that same expression twice before. ¿Estás bien?” she asks you, the steadiness of her voice comforting to the flurry inside your head. 

The whistle blows and the game kicks off. This can’t be happening now. 

It’s too early. There’s a… What are they called? Braxton-hicks? 

“Sí,” you affirm with a curt nod. The not-contraction doesn’t hurt that much, you tell yourself. You settle in the seat and focus on the match in front of you, using the rhythm of the crowd’s cheers (it can now be called a crowd!) to keep you grounded. With a reassuring smile, Eli offers you her hand. You take it and try not to crush her metacarpals. 

It’s definitely possible that you are in actual labour, considering the increasing intensity of your contractions, but you are not about to leave the match. Alexia would notice your absence. This game is important for her team – it’s the last before the Christmas break. 

At halftime, Eli quietly reassesses you, tricking you into seeing the team’s medic when guiding you to the ‘toilet’. Already briefed on the situation, the medic asks you a few questions in accented English, much like that of your newly trilingual fiancée. “Don’t tell her,” you beg quietly through a huffed sigh, gladly taking the seat offered to you. “I’ll wait until it’s finished.” 

“There is another hour left.” 

Your ears burn and another contraction shoots through you. You shake your head, fending off the pain while you do so. “He can’t be a Barcelona fan,” you insist. Eli grins at the knowledge that her first grandchild will be a boy, but you do not see it, too focused on convincing the medic to keep the child’s other mother in the dark about what is currently happening in the Barcelona medical room. “I’ll wait.” 

Eli hands you your phone per your request. You call Gio, whose daughter is only two months old. “Don’t tell me,” she starts when you fail to greet her. The sound of her voice, her accent, her tone is relieving, though you are incredibly grateful for the woman who continues to hold your hand as though you are her own daughter. “Nah, nah. Where are you? I’m gonna jump on a flight, alright? I’ll call Anya and we’ll be there soon.” 

“Don’t… rush,” you groan. 

“Babe, we are going to rush. Where are you?!” 

“A match!” You try to remember the breathing exercises you learnt for this exact moment. “Her match. Second half’s only just started. She… She doesn’t know.” 

Gio’s loud, boisterous laugh rings out, and you can tell that she is not at home. No one with a newborn baby can afford to make noise at that volume. “Fucking hell. Ever heard of sense?” You don’t respond, embarrassed that you are in too much pain to think of a comeback. “I’ve left Mia at my mum’s, so don’t you worry. Want me to bring anything from home? Cadbury’s, maybe?” 

“One of those massive bars?” 

“Yep, done deal.” She pauses. “Hey, babe, I’m gonna ring Anya now, alright? Call your mum – or your dad, if you two haven’t yet made up. I’ll see you soon. Tell Alexia her baby’s on the way!” 

Your protests are cut off by the final beep of her hanging up, and your head drops back as another contraction, your body squeezed as though some giant rubber band has just snapped back into place. Eli stands up, worried now. 

Before you can tell her that you are alright, a gush of water hits the sterile floor with an unnerving splatter. The prospect of having to care for another life suddenly becomes very real. “Tenemos que ir al hospital.” 

“No.” 

“Soy la abuela. Yo sé que hacer.” Even the medic, who has nervously stayed by your side, much more experienced with ACLs than broken waters (and stubborn pregnant women), looks intimidated by the firmness of Eli’s words. “Por favor”: she softens her blow. 

You glance around the room, slowly descending into agony and helpless against the wrath of rationality from your fiancée’s mother. “How long’s left of the match? ¿Cuántos minutos quedan?” 

The medic holds up all ten fingers. You grapple with your body, begging the baby to sit tight for a moment. “Let her finish. We can go when the whistle blows.”

Your contractions get closer together. 

Eli’s frustration leads her to ask God for the baby to not have inherited your stubbornness. She also loves you more for it; admiring your insistence to keep Alexia from missing everything. 

You don’t call your own mother. You simply type out a shaky text to the family group chat; blunt and to the point. ‘Baby. Now.’

Half of your universe storms the web, booking flights to Barcelona. Anya and Gio are almost at the airport already — a few steps ahead of your panicking parents and your brother, who has been enjoying dinner at the Savoy with his clients. Those who serve as your planets, revolving around you like you are the sun, do you a favour, letting Dave know that you probably won’t make it to the Skype call scheduled for tomorrow morning. Dave, in turn, now expanding into management, informs your newly-hired publicist (good riddance to the old one). The world has expected a pregnancy announcement ever since you failed to appear at your most recent awards show, despite winning in your category. 

It's almost an eternity later that Alexia, football boots clacking against the floor, flings open the door of the medical room. Eli calls out, warning her daughter about slipping on the sizable puddle that has spread out beneath you. 

Your fiancée is valiant in her attempt to mask her sheer panic. 

“Have you called an ambulance?” she asks her mother, stepping over your amniotic fluid and placing her hand on your shoulder. You squint, trying to open your eyes though this contraction has been the most excruciating so far. 

“We were waiting for you. She was adamant that you finished your match.” 

“No football match is more important than her!” If you understood Catalan (and weren’t in labour), you’d have teased her for being a sap. “Call an ambulance, Jesus Christ. Look at her — she needs a doctor.” Her composure revisits her fleetingly, and she turns to the medic. “Thank you for looking after her.” There is no answer because it is drowned out by her barking more orders her mother’s way. 

“No ambulance,” you declare before your mouth opens in a silent sob. “Drive me. Not an ambulance.” 

The last glimpse the Estadi Johan Cruyff gets of Alexia Putellas in 2018 is her carrying you to her mother’s car, your face buried in her team-issued jacket in case anyone is waiting outside to take pictures of the players. 

Eli drives; something she doesn’t like doing often but feels is necessary with the nervous bounce of her daughter’s legs in the backseat enough to convince her that they’d speed like the Flash if anyone else ended up behind the wheel. She knows Barcelona, can navigate it with her eyes closed, and you are at the hospital before you can begin to tell Alexia how much you think you can’t do this. 

“I really fucking can’t do this!” you cry out, situated in the delivery room. Sweat rolls down the side of your face, already dampening your hair. Alexia thinks you look beautiful, and she has been made proud of the last two hours. You’ve also helped her a lot with English swearwords. 

“You can.” 

“I can’t.” You’re told to push again. “Alexia, you are having the… next… fucking… beach ball.” Each word is punctuated by a guttural moan. 

Waves of intense pain contort your face in agony, and the midwife continues to talk you through your task as though instructing you how to park a car. “Estás haciendo muy bien, mi amor,” she tells you, ignoring the possibility that you may have rendered her left hand boneless. 

“There’s a baby coming out of my vagina,” you shout, “don’t even try to test my Spanish, you twat.” 

The midwife shoots your fiancée a pitiful look. “She’ll take it back,” she says in Catalan. 

“She’s getting quite inventive.” 

“There’s been worse.”

You can imagine the conversation taking place in the middle of you delivering her literal child. “No, I won’t! It’s breaking me in half.” You grip her hand harder. “Never. Again.” 

But, with a final, visceral (and heavily encouraged) push, the room is filled with the sound of life. Nico comes into the world screaming at the top of his lungs. All Alexia can think to say is, “definitely yours.” 

…

Life is a lot more tiring trying to juggle being a mother and a pop star. 

The press have a field day when you announce the birth of your son with a simple Instagram post, your engagement ring second only to the swaddled lump on your chest. The caption (‘ours’) sparks debate on who exactly is the other parent. Well, father. Alexia’s teammates, while waiting to finally be allowed to meet your bundle, spend a good two months teasing her mercilessly about it. Most notably, Alexia almost loses La Reina to Papi. 

2019 comes with change — a lot of it. 

You hire a new manager so that Dave can focus fully on the last album 2sday will produce. The group has been together for six years, and you have made your millions.You seek neither money nor fame, but it comes knocking on the door of your quaint apartment in Barcelona anyway, along with a record deal only for you. A solo act.

Between Nico crying, Alexia playing football, and you trying to write songs that don’t end up criminally depressing, the contract on your dining table slowly becomes forgotten about. Alexia is too stressed about the impending World Cup to grant you a moment to breathe. You spend your days in Barcelona with a baby attached to your hip, the question of his parenthood still a mystery to the public, and, ever so slowly, you begin to resent your life. 

It could be postpartum depression, but you have no time to really investigate the symptoms. 

Alexia, two weeks before she needs to leave for her national camp and then the World Cup in France, comes home to an eerily silent apartment. 

She calls out your name, wondering if you have perhaps gone to her mother’s house. The terrible sinking feeling comes with your reply. “Can we talk?” you ask. 

She finds you perched on the Egyptian cotton sheets that cover your double bed. The sheets are out of place here, greatly exceeding the original budget of the decor, and, where Alexia sees this as you adding to her life, you feel you are somewhere you don’t belong. It is fine when she is next to you, holding your hand, claiming the other half of the now six-month-old baby boy gurgling in his carseat. When she isn’t there, though, the vacant space taunts you. 

“I have no friends here,” you tell her quietly. The gravity of the mood settling over you pulls her onto the mattress, not caring if the sheen of sweat she wears as her outermost layer of clothing dirties the expensive creamy white beneath her. “I have no friends, I don’t speak the language, and I think that I have played at being a normal person for long enough. I mean, it’s great to watch you and to be there for you, but, darling, that’s not who I am. This,” you gesture to the loungewear you have on, stained with dribble, “is not who I am.” 

Alexia hears what you are saying. She understands; she remembers the nights where you’d call her, a cigarette rasping your voice, sparkles shining in the valley between your breasts. She has seen this coming. It would be impossible not to notice the dimming of such a strong love between you: still present, yet slowly fading away. 

“They want me to sign a new deal. Alone.” The suitcases lined up in the corner of the bedroom become glaringly obvious. Nico is in his carseat for a reason. “I think it would be good for me to go back to London. I need to feel like myself again, and my parents are willing to watch him. I sold my flat – I’ve bought a house in Highgate.” Tears sting your eyes as you speak, and you know where Alexia’s shoulder is without having to look, resting your head against it. “I love you. I love you so much, but I just can’t do this anymore.” 

It’s as if the ground crumbles away beneath her. Your words hang above Alexia’s neck like an axe, waiting to execute her, waiting to end everything. She can’t look at Nico, whose face crumples at his mother’s clear heartbreak. 

The world, once vibrant, lays in ruins. Her funny story from training dies on her tongue, and her question of whether you wanted to visit her mother before she left for camp disintegrates, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. 

“Do you still want to marry me?” she asks, and you hate the way her voice cracks with uncertainty. “Are you moving permanently?” 

“I haven’t called anything off. It’s still going ahead as planned.” She senses the but. “But I… I can’t think here. I can’t be here. I want – I need – to go home.” 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

She is going to be at the World Cup anyway. You and her will always find your way back to each other. She is going to be busy. 

She is going to be busy. 

She is going to be busy. 

“Yeah. It’s okay. Take all the time you need.” 

She is going to fall apart without you. 

[haechwrites]

wingwoman - L.MK

mark x fem!reader ft. jaemin

synopsis: mark has trouble pulling girls. he also has trouble understanding girls. this makes sense when he asks the best friend of his crush for help when it's blatantly obvious she's actually in love with him.

wc: ~9.5k

warnings: none??? unrequited love. mark is clueless. reader is a coward hehe. based in college. i say fem!reader bc they use she/her pronouns and refer to her as a "wingwoman," but honestly can be read as gender neutral?? ORIGINALLY WRITTEN IN FIRST PERSON, so ignore mistakes pls

A/N: my first published work woot woot i've had this written and sitting for so long. i love unrequited love and angst. this isn't that angsty but maybe if i get sad enough, i can write an angstier one! okay byeee

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“You like him, don’t you?”

The mayo from your sandwich made a cartoonish splat onto the plate at the end of his question. Your head snapped over, looking at Jaemin incredulously for his unexpected inquiry. You were in the middle of a lovely meal with Mark in between classes. When Jaemin sat down to join halfway, You didn’t expect him to have an agenda in mind. You placed your sandwich down and checked to see how far Mark had gotten before you could speak. He had lost a round of rock, paper, scissors and was sent to buy drinks.

“What are you talking about?” You cleared your throat of whatever was left of your lunch. You knew exactly who and what he was talking about but you prayed it was something else. You didn’t want to have this discussion. Things could be laid out on this table that you're not yet ready to process, and not with Jaemin of all people. It’s not like you and Jaemin aren’t close. You're just both the same kind of person, the type of person who doesn’t like to express their feelings. So it was odd that Jaemin was even asking about your personal life.

“Mark. You like him, right?“ He raised a single eyebrow, tempting you to deny his claim. How could he admit your feelings so easily when it’s something you've been struggling to grasp for a month?

You wiped the crumbs off your hands onto your jeans, and maybe some nervous sweat too.

“No. I mean. He likes Jenn.” You stated it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, trying hard to make it seem like that fact didn’t bother you. You automatically looked down and start picking at the crumbs.

Jaemin hummed, “I asked if you like him. Not who he likes. I know who he likes.” 

The last statement felt like a stab in the chest, because, of course, you do too. Mark likes your roommate, your friend since high school. That was the only reason you were sitting at this table, the only reason you were able to have this conversation with one of his best friends. If he didn’t reach out to you during your Anatomy class together about helping him get with your friend, you wouldn’t even be here in this situation right now. At first, you were honestly offended by his request. However, after seeing the charm he very much lacked, you understood why he was desperate. It was a pitiful acceptance, but you wish you never agreed. Being reminded of your purpose in his life always tore you apart because Jaemin’s assumption is right; you do like Mark. 

Maybe that slight bitterness in your heart is what pushed you to confess to Jaemin, one of Mark’s friends and not the man himself. You took another quick glance at Mark to see him fumbling with his change at the vending machine to get you a drink. You couldn’t help but smile fondly at him and quickly realize how screwed you are. Jaemin followed your eyes and smiled to himself knowing he was right. It wasn’t difficult to figure out. The only person that didn’t know was Mark, and maybe Jenn.

You sighed and turned back to him, a month of feelings bursting at your lips.

“Okay, fine. I like Mark. But I swear to you, I’m not going to do anything. It literally doesn’t matter. He likes Jenn and I’m helping him pursue Jenn. I know I’m an idiot for getting my feelings tangled up in all of this, but I really care for Mark, so I’m not gonna let something as stupid as this get in the way of that. I’m gonna keep helping him and if I get to continue being his friend after they get together, great! But if our relation-friendship ends there, then that’s also fine. It-“ You hesitated, looking at the pity and confusion on Jaemin’s face. “It’s completely fine,” You said quieter, the weight of your ramble finally hitting you. You didn’t realize how pathetic this whole situation was till your thoughts left your head and were actually voiced. 

Jaemin made a sound of disapproval, getting ready to speak before a can of Milkis was placed in front of your plate.

“What’d I miss?” Mark asked, swiftly sliding his body onto the bench. “I cleaned the top already,” He says, tapping your drink.

You smiled with gratitude, before quickly snapping back into wing woman mode. Like it was second nature.

“Jenn wants to catch a movie this weekend, wanna come? Maybe bring Jeno or Jaemin,” your eyes flickered to the man that just watched you word-vomit your inner thoughts. “So it’s less sus, you know?” 

Mark’s eyes lit up immediately, the smile on his face lifting his cheekbones to match the pure joy in his eyes. The green in you only faltered your smile slightly. When has he ever smiled like that for me?, you thought.

“Jaem, what do you say? Wanna come?” Mark asked.

Jaemin looked at you as you avoided his eyes. He took a big bite of his food before saying, “I’d rather not.” 

Mark instantly pouted and slapped Jaemin’s arms multiple times, whining that it’d be fun. Jaemin continued taking bites of his food, unfazed by Mark’s slaps and silently refusing. You giggled at the sight, but something in your stomach felt uneasy now that Jaemin knows. 

Everyone continued finishing up their meals and Mark asked you about this weekend and what movies Jenn likes. You took a sip of your drink and let the carbonation burn your throat. Hopefully, your abrupt confession helps you in this predicament. Having at least one person know would be good, right?

You peered up at Jaemin and his eyes were trained strictly on you, sending goosebumps down your arms. 

Maybe not.

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A month has passed since your confession to Jaemin and two and a half months have passed since Operation Jump Jenn began — name courtesy of Haechan, objectively not his best work but you got outvoted. Ever since you started hanging out with Mark and helping out with his love life situation, your friend groups began to merge and you all grew extremely close. It feels like you're known the boys since birth, despite meeting only this year. Due to this and because everyone is all in on Operation Jump Jenn, a camping trip was planned together — more like “glamping” because tents were swapped for a nice cabin. The goal was to get Mark and Jenn some alone time whether it be on a hike or by the campfire. Haechan said they should go as far as making them share a bed, but he quickly earned a smack in the head from Renjun. 

The crew had just arrived at the cabin this morning and scurried into the rooms they self-assigned, or should you say argued over, in the car ride up. You obviously got put with Jenn and your friend, Sumin, while the boys fought over who could sleep with Renjun. Surprisingly, Jeno came out victorious.

“Okay, I’m done! I’m gonna go help the boys figure out groceries,” Jenn got up and brushed the dust off her pants.

“Oh, you’ll need backup,” Sumin laughed and trailed after her, leaving you alone in your shared room.

You took your time unpacking just because driving partially took a lot out of you. The bed was looking extra nap-able. Your body soreness also probably came from craning your neck so much to look at Mark and Jenn in the backseat. It was torturous, but you couldn’t look away. It was like self-sabotage.

A light knock on the door caught your attention and you told the person to come in. It was Mark.

Not even trying to hide the immediate smile on your face, you got up off the floor. 

“Hey, did you unpack already?”

“Haechan owes me for something, so I made him do it for me.” He sighs happily before plopping onto the bed, basking in his zero responsibilities.

You scoffed and smacked his thigh, “You’re wearing your outside clothes!” You log rolled him over to his side but he quickly positioned himself back.

“All we did was drive,” he whined. “I think our clothes should be relatively clean.” He patted the empty spot next to him. You obviously obliged.

You leaned over to him and jokingly sniffed, “Yeah, but you smell a little.”

Mark mocked offense and grabbed you by the shoulders to pull you into a tight hug, laughing evilly at your cries.

“Then get a gooood smell,” He trapped you in, shaking you around. You pretended to cough on his odor and he gasped. Mark pulled back to look at your face and you were already laughing. 

He gave a light flick to your forehead, “Jerk.”

You simply smiled, shoving him away from you before the butterflies in your stomach could get even worse. You had to take a deep breath just to calm down and remind yourself of your place. 

“When we have to grocery shop later, you should volunteer with Jenn. She’s already making the list so I’m sure she’ll wanna take over the shopping part as well.” With your eyes trained on the ceiling, the advice just flowed naturally out of you like always. You laid there expecting him to jump up at the idea. 

Mark propped his head up with his elbow and looked at you from the side, “I’m kinda tired.”

You rolled your eyes, “You’re stupid. You gotta take every opportunity you can get. Jenn’s a little tough to break through and get to know. She’s shy, remember?” You poked his nose and he scrunched at you.

“True,” he pouted. Mark reached over to grab a strand that came loose from your bun after he practically strangled you. He gently brushed it aside and you felt your whole body freeze. Two attacks in one day? Your poor heart.

You cleared your throat and shot up. You grabbed his hand and yanked him with you, to which he instantly groaned. 

“C’monnn, let’s goooo,” you pleaded, shaking his arm. “I don’t have the energy to pull you up.” 

He used both hands to grab your arm and pulled himself up, leaving you both face to face. You instantly took a step back, frazzled once again. Mark was never good at hiding his facial expressions. It was what made getting close to him so easy. You felt like you could read his mind, and sometimes you dive deeper than he expects. He looked at you a little confused by your distance and you simply gave his arm a squeeze, not wanting to look too suspicious. He smiled. 

Mark naturally wrapped his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer and walked the two of you out of the room, “Let’s gooo.” 

If he could read you the way you read him, you're sure he’d push you away.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Scrubbing hard at the dishes, you cursed myself for being so bad at rock, paper, scissors. Yes, it’s a game of luck, but you must have the worst luck in the world to always lose to Lee Haechan. You could hear him snickering at the dining table behind you, smacking on the marshmallows they were about to roast. 

“Haechan! Stop snacking and bring those outside,” Jaemin snapped, coming in to bring in more dishes from dinner. 

“Yessir!” Haechan mocked a salute and scrambled outside to where Mark and Jenn were setting up the campfire. Jeno and Sumin were looking for more firewood and Renjun went to take a post-dinner nap. 

Jaemin bumped you with his hip, scooting you over as he started rinsing your dishes.

“You’re helping?” you asked, shocked that someone would willingly wash dishes. 

“Should I stop?” He smiles, threatening to let go of the plate.

“No! No. No. I appreciate the help.” 

Jaemin laughs, “That’s what I thought.”

You both stand there quietly washing what felt like millions of dishes. Spending time alone with Jaemin was never uncomfortable, but there were always moments when your mind gets in the way and you think about what he knows. 

It’s like he can read your thoughts because he suddenly asks, “Is this trip gonna be okay for you?“

Suddenly hyper-focused on the crust of the pan, you didn’t dare make eye contact with him. 

“What do you mean?”

Jaemin takes the pan from you and starts scrubbing himself. You instantly occupy yourself with another dish.

He sighs, “I mean, usually when we set the two up, we’re never actually there to witness how it goes. It must suck to watch them laugh and be happy like that.” His words burn.

You hiss at the realization and almost drop the cup you were gripping. Jaemin tuts and grabs the cup from your hand. His hand on your wrist is tight, begging you to look up. You chew on your inner cheek, hesitantly lifting your eyes to match his. 

“It’s only the first day, but we have a whole week. If you ever need to get away from all of this, you find me, okay?” The brown in his eyes is warm and inviting, and his facial structures soften when he’s talking to you. He’s chewing on his bottom lip and you could see how nervous he is for you. You slowly release his grip from your wrist and you hold his hand lightly.

“Thank you, Jaem. But I’ll be okay. I’ve made it this far,” You meekly smile. Your eyes darted to the side of his face to look outside the window where Jenn is throwing marshmallows up in the air for Mark to catch. He looks so happy. Maybe even in love. And that look wasn’t for you. The ache in your chest returns and you hope Jaemin doesn’t catch on. You don’t know what it is that made you so sensitive in this moment, but your vision blurred slightly with tears. 

“You sure about that?” He teases, wiping the tear that managed to slip. 

“You’re gonna get soap in my eyes,” you scowl, but laugh at how pathetic you're being. He gently blows the suds off your face and you could feel them being replaced with a peachy rose tint on your cheeks.

“C’mon, let’s hurry. They’re gonna eat all the marshmallows and your terrible scrubbing is slowing me down. Jesus, Y/N, I’m finding so many missed food spots.”

Your jaw dropped and you scrubbed harder, “It’s dark in here and my arms are tired from driving! Leave me alone.”

Jaemin looks at you from his peripheral to see you practically scrubbing the varnish off the plates and he smiles. He hopes you'll be okay, but also a part of him hopes you'll seek comfort in him if needed. Was that too much or too selfish to wish for?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

For the rest of the glamping days, you're unintentionally glued to Jaemin’s side. Every activity planned for this trip ended up with you being paired up with him: paddle boarding, hiking, cliff jumping, grilling, and so on. Every partner assignment was decided by rock, paper, scissors, and somehow the two of you kept doing the same one. Some would say it's fate, but Jaemin would call it cheating. He was lucky that Renjun hasn’t caught him changing his hands last minute to copy yours. Truth be told, Jeno noticed a while ago, but decided to let his best friend have his fun. 

The universe likes to play its games too. And that’s how you ended up being partnered with Mark for canoeing. You almost fought it till you saw how happy Jenn was to canoe with Sumin. Mark simply shrugged and grabbed two life vests for you guys.

He offered to strap it in for you and you were looking at everything but his face. Unfortunately, you could still feel the steady rhythm of his breath catching up to the racing of your heart. 

“I feel like I haven’t talked to you in ages,” Mark said to break the ice. It was true though. Your wing woman duties on this trip were basically minimal as the group joined efforts to get the two together at all costs. It took a lot off of you and you were happily distracted by Jaemin. 

“I bet you got a lot of talking done with Jenn though.” you gave him a closed mouth smile, trying to find the positives of your distance, for his sake and yours.

Mark looked at you with anything but happiness. Shouldn’t he be happy? At this rate, Jenn and he are close to making it official. 

“I just missed you,” Mark stated like he was releasing air from his lungs. You had your shield up and you were ready to combat it with another sentence about how well his love life is looking. But you saw the look in his eyes and the way his body looked defeated. You tightened the strap on his life jacket and patted over his heart.

“I missed you too,” you replied. It was something you weren't letting yourself admit this entire week. Like fireworks, a smile instantly erupted on his face and he grabbed your hands from his straps, giving your palm a swift kiss before dragging you to your boat.

Your insides screamed at his gesture and your legs failed to move as you stumbled after him. It was like you were in a Mark drought and he was the single drop of water you needed to beg for more. 

The remaining of the afternoon was spent paddling in circles and laughing till your throats were dry at your horrible rowing skills. An oar was even lost in the process. Mark also clumsily fell in while trying to reach for a duck. Being the good person you are, you jumped in after him so he wasn’t alone. Admittedly, it looked more fun than sitting in one place on the canoe. 

Mark cackled at the life jacket forcing you to bob up and down in the water, making you look like a little kid drowning. 

“You look so stupid,” he says in the middle of laughing, accidentally swallowing some lake water.

“Jerk!” you splashed him and he’s sputtering, trying to get the taste out of his mouth. His jaw drops when he realized what you did and he looks at you so seriously. Your hands are ready to splash him again and the water fight begins. You're hurling water toward each other for a good five minutes before he concedes, whining about potentially losing a contact. 

You swim towards him, grabbing his face to check his eyes. His contacts were very clearly still intact. You're about to call him out for lying when he suddenly spits water onto your face. 

“Marcus Lee.” you threaten him, still holding onto his face. Your eyes are shut in disgust. 

You wipe the water off your face and open your eyes to see him grinning evilly. 

“That’s not even my name,” Mark giggles.

“‘Mark Lee’ doesn’t have the same impact,” you shrug, moving your hands to his shoulders to stay afloat. 

He smiles fondly, holding onto your elbows lightly. The feeling in his chest felt as good as the sun resting on his backside. The warmth of the sunset reflected off your lake-soaked cheeks, plump from laughing, and something stirred in his chest. Something a little too similar to the feeling he was forcing when he was with Jenn. It was the feeling Mark had wished he felt when with her. 

Scared of this new emotion, he let go of you and scrambled to climb back into the canoe. He quickly mumbled about wanting to get back before it got dark. You floated there a little confused by his urgency, but followed suit anyways. He tossed you a towel and out of nowhere gained the skills of a professional rower and got you back to the shore in no time. Without even looking back, he trudged towards the cabin, leaving you with the setting sun, cold and confused.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“So he just left you there?” Renjun asks, scrolling through Netflix to pick a show to watch. It was just the two of you since the rest were too tired from today’s activities.

“Mhmm. It was so weird.” 

“I can check up on him in the morning since he’s asleep now. But he probably just had the shits. You know Mark.” He finally settled on an episode of New Girl.

You took a sip of your hot cocoa and pondered the chances. “Mmm true.”

Renjun laughs at your agreement and grabbed a blanket for the both of you.

“But you both had fun, right?” He asks, not really paying attention to the show at all. It seemed like he just wanted to talk and you were fine with that.

“Yeah, I mean we didn’t spend much time together this trip which is pretty rare for us. But you know, The Operation takes priority,” you took another sip to clear the knot that suddenly formed in your throat.

“You probably missed him a loooot, huh?” Renjun hid his smirk behind the mug.

“A normal amount… what are you grabbing at?“ you narrowed your eyes at him and leaned back, surveying his body language. He looked like he was holding something in.

“Oh my god,” he bursts. “Can you just tell me already?” He sets his cup down and grabs your forearms.

“Huh? Tell you what?” Where is this coming from?, you think. You set your cup down too out of precaution.

“I’m not stupid, Y/N. I know you like him, so I need you to confirm it so we can talk freely,” he waved his hands in the air like he was a therapist trying to get you to spill. You almost laughed at how ridiculous he looked.

Your hand slapped against his mouth and you did a quick look around the room. No peeping heads.

“How did you figure it out?“ you whisper-screamed. You could feel the very foundation of Mark's and your friendship crumble. 

“Imph phnot phstupidmph,” He muffles out.

“Huh?” You question stupidly and he glares at you, sharply pointing at your hand. “Oh, duh.”

Renjun clears his throat, “I said I’m not stupid. And considering how much time Jaemin has been spending with you, I’m guessing he knows too.” You look at the wall behind his head, feeling guilty.

“I don’t know why you would tell him before me though. We were lab buddies first before you met Jaemin. Not fair, Y/N.” He huffs, crossing his arms. If the security of your love life wasn’t falling apart at this very moment, you would’ve found him endearing.

“Do you think anyone else has figured it out?” you ask.

“No, I’m like the only smart one,” Renjun scoffs.

“Wrong!” A voice booms from the hallway. Haechan walks in yawning, fully decked out in a matching set of pajamas. He takes a swig from Renjun’s hot cocoa, earning him a smack. 

He sits down to your right and smiles, “I found out like 2 weeks after you and Mark met.” 

“Damn, you found out before Jaemin did,” You admitted. Not even shocked or worried that a third person knows, You sat there dumbfounded.

“Yesss!” Haechan pumps the air and proceeds to take another sip but this time from your cup. You tsked and gave him a flick before grabbing your mug back.

“Okay, so now what?” Renjun asks like there was more to this.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “What do you mean ‘now what’?”

Haechan doesn’t even look surprised but Renjun is staring at you like you offended him.

“You’re just… not gonna do anything? Ignore your feelings?” Haechan nodded along with Renjun’s questioning. The angel and the devil on your shoulders, or should I say devil and devil.

“Renjunie, that’s what I’ve been doing, I don’t know if you’ve noticed. I’m the wing woman. I’d be betraying my duty.” You said this like a mantra, a mantra you're been telling yourself for the past few months.

“What about the duty to your heart?” 

“Gross,” Haechan chimes in. It earned a scrunch of your nose and a weird look. 

“I regretted it the minute I said it,” Renjun slouches defeatedly. 

“Look, I appreciate the concern. Jaemin gives me these talks all the time, and trust me, it won’t change my mind. I love Mark too much to get in the way of his happiness. And all for what? Because I have these feelings? That’s ridiculous.” 

Haechan and Renjun looked at you with even more pity in their eyes, which is more than you usually see from Jaemin.

“What?”

“It’s worse than I thought,” Haechan whispers.

“You love him.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

On the morning of the last day, you notice Mark is avoiding you at all costs. He’s even avoiding Jenn. Everyone was packing up the car and he completely took over, not letting anyone touch the luggage or the car. You tugged Renjun to the side to ask what was up and he simply shrugged, saying he doesn’t know what was going on. 

When you all make your first pitstop, You and Jaemin are buying snacks for the group. You see Mark staying in the driver’s seat, claiming that he can go the whole way. Both of you give each other concerned looks and Jaemin says he has an idea.

His idea ended up being you switching places with Haechan to sit in the passenger seat, much to his complaints about getting car sick. He does not get motion sick, by the way, especially as the man who has ridden all the rides at Six Flags not once, but twice in one day. 

The only time Mark looks at you is to see you climb into the passenger seat. From then on, his grip on the wheel is tight and his eyes are trained on the road. You even offer to do directions for him, but he immediately declines. His cold behavior leaves a weird feeling blooming in your chest and you almost feel sick, regretting the decision to buy a gas station hot dog.

A few hours passed and Haechan and Renjun are knocked out from their endless karaoke and the rest of them followed suit after finally getting some peace and quiet. 

“Hey,” you whisper to Mark. “Mark.”

His eyebrows perk up, maybe not expecting you to initiate conversation. “What’s up?”

“Are you good?”

He nervously twists his hands around the wheel. “Yeah, dude. I’m fine.”

You looked him up and down, not believing him at all. “Then are we good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” He says with a hint of offense. You grip the sleeves of your hoodie a little tighter. He’s never talked to you this way. 

“I-I don’t know. You just seem a little off today, that’s all.” You half confessed. He’s more than just a little off. His behavior was making the air tense and you wished Jaemin didn’t convince you to take the front seat. You chose to stare out the window instead.

“Y/N, there’s nothing wrong. I’m just missing my space, okay?” Mark says sternly, giving you the affirmative sign to leave him alone. Tears instantly prick the corner of your eyes at his tone. Mark has always been a cheerful presence in your life so for these words to be spat at you like this… It felt horrible. It felt like his bad mood was your fault. You tug the hood of your jacket up further and you turned away from him even more, not wanting to make it worse.

“Sounds good,” you managed to mutter, popping in your headphones so you didn’t have to hear any more from him.

Mark spares a glance at you and his eyes instantly soften. Something in his chest twists at the way you're turned away from him, in his favorite hoodie. Jaemin is looking from the seat behind; he’s been watching. He sighs and reminds himself to switch places with you at the next pitstop. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Finals season hits the minute you all get back from your trip and the only time your group meets up is to study in the library. Mark, who is usually a huge advocate for group studies, is suddenly a solo studier. You haven’t seen him in a week and when you sought out Jenn, she reports the same thing. 

Thankfully and unfortunately, your finals were extra rough this semester and you essentially had no time to worry about him. Occasionally, you'd send him texts with your class notes to check up on him, but all you'd get in response is a simple thumbs up. 

Jaemin decided to change the scenery and study at a cafe near campus. He had two more exams left, but you only had one so you were definitely more relaxed than he was. You ordered a slice of cake and a pastry and munched away as he tackled his workload. You occasionally fed him bites here and there.

An hour into the study session, the food settled in your stomach as well as the repressed feelings about Mark. You twirled your straw as you stared at Jaemin typing, trying to decide if now was a good time to bother him.

“You’re staring,” He says, continuing to type. 

“Yup.” you say, popping your lips. 

“Is my handsomeness not blinding?” He smirks, eyes still on his screen. He wiggles his eyebrows teasingly.

You gag and shove a spoon of cake into his mouth. “Nevermind, no more talking. I don’t wanna throw up the food I paid for.”

He laughs and finally lifts his hands off the keyboard. Jaemin takes a sip of his deadly concoction with eight shots of espresso to wash down the cake and raises his eyebrows.

“You can ask, you know?”

You roll your lips in and tap at the table, suddenly too shy to ask.

“Okay, then I’ll just assume and answer. Mark is… weird. Mark’s not really acting like himself right now if I’m being completely honest,” Jaemin admits. He’s lazily poking his ice with the straw, waiting to see your reaction. 

“Hmm,” you pretend to ponder his words, suddenly struck with worry. Even though you're still hurt by his actions from the ride back and his sudden desire to avoid you for a week, you can’t help but care. It was almost annoying how much you want to text him, despite his lack of interest in you. It annoyed Jaemin more.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” 

Your eyes perked up, shocked by Jaemin’s change in tone.

“He dismissed you on the car ride back. He’s ignored you this entire week. He doesn’t even say thank you when you send him your notes. Why-” He shakes his head, aggravated. “Why are you still worrying about him?”

“Jaemin… you know why.”

“Listen, I love Mark like a brother. But he doesn’t deserve you. You’ve done so much for him with this whole Jenn situation, it’s just not fair to you.” Jaemin says this so seriously, you feel frozen in my spot. You’ve probably heard these words leave his mouth a million times, but today it felt different. His words weighed differently. 

“I don’t know what else to do, Jaemin. This is the only thing I can do. It’s the only thing I know how to do.”

“He’s not even appreciative of it!” Jaemin pushes further, growing more desperate to have you hear his words, praying they stick this time. “You don’t need to put yourself through this for his sake.”

You're flattening a piece of the cake with a fork as you actually consider his words. With Mark distancing himself, your mind feels a little clearer, more room for thoughts. 

“I wouldn’t be friends with him in the first place if I didn’t agree to be his wing woman. It’s why I’m in his life in the first place. I’m… I’m too scared to risk it.” 

Jaemin decides he’s had enough and shuts his laptop, too angry to work. “You’re an idiot if you think he’s only keeping you around because you’re close to Jenn. Why do you value yourself so little? Do you think we’re just friends because we’re both in Operation Jump Jenn? No, Y/N. We’re friends because I like you.”

Jaemin sucks in his breath, at his poor word choice; he looks like he’s in pain. If only she knew I meant it differently, he thinks to himself. 

He continues, “So why would Mark, after all this time, not think of you as more than just a wing woman?” 

The area around your eyes sting and you could feel yourself fighting back tears. Your lips tremble, choking back a sob. Jaemin’s eyes widen and his hands twitch wanting to hold yours, but he pulls himself back.

“I still can’t tell him. Things won’t be the same.” 

The look of pity Jaemin usually gives you is replaced by frustration, and maybe some disappointment. You fidget under his stare, tightly wrapping your arms around your waist. He shakes his head.

“Mark doesn’t deserve you if he leaves you after finding out how you feel. You really think he’d do that? Do you think that lowly of him?” He rests his hands on the table and he looks at you, urging you to try to defend yourself. But his words sink deeper. He’s right, do you really think that lowly of Mark?

You sighed in defeat and in exhaustion. You were at a loss for words, having your thoughts psychoanalyzed in front of you. You don’t think lowly of Mark at all. Shouldn’t you have more faith in him? In us?, you think.

“Why do you have to be so smart?” you glare at Jaemin. He immediately relaxes, smiling in return. He was staring at you for so long, trying to figure out what was going on inside your brain. He was on the edge of his seat, terrified that you'd drop him for his candor. Or that you caught on to his little confession.

He shrugs in response, “Pre-med.”

“You’re annoying,” you laugh, giving his foot a kick. Jaemin laughs with you and opens up his laptop again. You both work for another minute before he stops to look up at you again.

“Hey. I’m sorry if I went too far.” Instead of grabbing your hand, he traps one of your legs with his two. He swings it back and forth with a pout on his face, begging for you two to be okay.

“No, no, I needed that. Thank you for looking out for me.” Your chest warms, knowing that you have someone as lovely as Na Jaemin on your side. 

You lean forward and pinch his cheek, “How’d I get so lucky with a friend like you?” 

His face falters for a second before snapping back into a smile. He playfully licks your hand and you pull it back in disgust.

“You got me for life unfortunately.”

“Mmm, unfortunately,” you fake pout. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

After your talk with Jaemin, it took you embarrassingly two days to figure out what to do next. Mark still isn’t talking to you and as much as it pains you, it’s actually given you the space to think. You finally decided to do something you should’ve done months ago.

“Do you like Mark?”

Jenn chokes on her sandwich and you scramble to hand her a glass of water, patting her shoulder lightly. Maybe you should’ve timed that better.

“Huh?” There was something swirling around in Jenn’s eyes. Confusion. Pure confusion. It was not what you expected at all. 

“I don’t know, do you like Mark?” you repeated, bracing yourself for her answer. 

She looked at you and did a quick once over. Jenn realized you were serious and brushed the crumbs off her hands before settling in her lap. 

“Mark’s cool. He talks a lot. The only reason we hang or talk is because of you and the boys. That’s kind of what it feels like for me and Mark. I don’t know… sometimes his behavior towards me feels forced. I thought he was just acting this way because I’m your best friend.” She took a sip, looking up and thinking about what more she could say about Mark Lee. 

“Wait. What do you mean by that?” The pit in your stomach appears. Did she figure out The Operation?

“Isn’t he just getting on good terms with me because he likes you? I don’t like him, by the way.” Jenn let those words flow out of her mouth as if it was the only thing to say. Like this is how she felt for months. 

“Huh?!” It was your turn to be confused. Never in your friendship with Mark have you considered your feelings being returned. You also never expected it to be implied by the person Mark is literally crushing on. 

“Wait. Was that not obvious? Every time Mark and I hung out, it just felt… like he was looking for something in me. It was strange. I just assumed it was because he wanted to look good in your eyes like ‘Hey! I’m buddy buddy with the bestie of my crush!’” She waved her fork in the air as she spoke and finally stabbed it into a potato wedge for a bite. 

“This is insane.” you sat there, appetite gone. Jenn never reciprocated feelings towards Mark. Jenn thought Mark liked me?, you thought. It felt like your efforts and feelings from the past few months were tumbling down. You were a step away from a spiral.

“What’s insane is that you thought I liked Mark. Don’t you like him?” 

You suddenly started choking on your spit and Jenn was quick to hand you a glass of water. 

For the rest of the meal, you explained everything to Jenn. From Mark approaching you in class, Haechan coming up with the horrible operation name (to which she gagged), and Jaemin’s talk with you from the other day. She was taken completely by surprise. To be fair, Jenn has always been pretty and has had people of all genders try their hand at flirting with her. She’s always been numb to it, so it’s not surprising that Mark and his loser-like charm didn’t come across as romantic. You use the word ‘loser’ in the nicest way. 

At the end of it all, Jenn is furious.

“I can’t believe he’s ignoring you. And for no reason? After all you did for him? Albeit, it didn’t work, and I hope you never try to set anyone else up with me ever again.” At that, you gave her a guilty smile and offered to buy her boba. 

“Deal. Anyways, that’s fucking ridiculous. What’s his problem?”

“I don’t know,” you said, picking at your fries. “He asked for space so I’m just gonna give it to him.”

Jenn nods and you avoid her pity stares.

“Jenn… I don’t know what I’m gonna do if I lose him, even as a friend. I-I really like him and I’m so so scared. Like the only two ways I can see this going is him continuing to ignore me and we drift or… or I listen to Jaemin and be honest with him about how I feel. And then he decides to stop being friends with me.”

“Okay, the second one is bullshit. You know Mark wouldn’t do that. He’d freak out, yeah, but he wouldn’t cut you off for that.” She scolds you, before taking another bite of your fries.

“I know. I knooow. But it’s still a fear I have. I’m telling you I’d rather be his friend and make a permanent home in this one sided love affair if it means I can still be in his life. That’s how insane my mind is.” You plop your head in your hands and let out what felt like a four-month-long repressed groan. 

“Y/N. You are probably the worst person for yourself.” Jenn clicks her teeth before hand-feeding you a fry, which you sadly munch on.

You sigh, “Yeah…”

“Yeah,” Jenn winces, before pulling you in for a hug.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Mark Lee is spiraling. 

“No because when she looked at me when we were out on that lake, I swear my heart was on steroids. I felt like my whole body was covered in tiny hearts and they were all beating at the same time. It was insane.”

“Uh huh,” Haechan mutters another one word response for what felt like the hundredth time today. He flipped through another page of the magazine before tossing it and reaching for Mark’s Nintendo switch. He shook it in Mark’s face as he paced back and forth.

“Huh? Oh yeah, go for it. Anyways, and when we drove home that day, dude, you should’ve seen the look on her face. I hurt her so bad, but it was like my body was on auto-pilot. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Like my brain and my heart were so confused. Because I like Jenn. I like Jenn, right? But why don’t I get those tiny hearts with her?”

“I don’t know, man. Damn, I can’t catch this stupid spider.” Haechan curses, twiddling his thumb on the remote trying to find joy in Animal Crossing.

“And now I’m not talking to both of them. But it doesn’t feel like I’m avoiding Jenn, but I can feel that I’m avoiding Y/N and it’s killing me.”

“Then. Talk. To. Her.” Haechan enunciates every time he hits a button on the switch.

“Who?” Mark asks, dumbfounded. Mark has had this same exact conversation with Haechan at least twice a day for the past week. If he wasn’t studying, he was bribing Haechan with food to come to his apartment to ramble. 

“Stupid spider,” Haechan slams the game on the couch cushion. “And stupid you. How many times do you have to circle around these same thoughts before you figure it out? Do I really have to say it, Mark? I’m trying to save you the embarrassment of admitting something so obvious.” He leans back, crossing his arms to assert some dominance in this situation. It’s ridiculous how many times Haechan has been tricked by food and games to be trapped in Mark’s apartment for the second time today. 

Mark just blinks, mouth slightly agape.

Haechan tilts his head, poking his cheek with his tongue. He raises his eyebrows, urging him to think just a little harder.

Mark finally looks up, as if a new thought crossed his mind. He gasps softly.

He covers his mouth as he mumbles, “No way…”

Haechan rolls his eyes at his dramatics, “Yes way.”

Mark pokes himself hard in the chest, “Do I like Y/N?”

“And he figures it out!” Haechan sarcastically cheers, clapping his hands. “Now can you buy me some actual food please?”

“No no no. Sit down. Because now we need to discuss this.” Mark starts pulling at his hair, even more stressed out than he was before.

“Oh my GOD,” Haechan screams. “What is there to discuss? You like her! Go tell her!”

Mark’s eyes bugged out as if Haechan turned into a mythical being. “Are you insane? No, scratch that. Am I insane? I started talking to her because I liked her best friend. I asked her to help me get close to her best friend. Our entire relationship is essentially built on this crush and you want me to tell her that I like her? Oh god, she has to hate me. She definitely hates me.” 

Mark stopped pacing and dropped to the ground in a squat. He’s full-on gripping his hair and Haechan is just watching. He forgot that Mark technically doesn’t know she likes him back and he pities him for a second before thinking he’s stupid again for not noticing. Everyone noticed. 

Mark finally raises his head and his face is left with tear trails. Haechan gets up immediately and wraps his arms around Mark’s shoulders.

“Oh, Marky,” Haechan sighs.

“Shit.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Mark (anatomy): hello!

Mark (anatomy): hi

Mark (anatomy): hey

Mark (anatomy): oh God sorry. I didn’t know which one to send and i accidentally sent them all

Mark (anatomy): HAHAHAH uhhh…

Mark (anatomy): can we talk? I wanna apologize in person.

You couldn’t help but laugh rereading Mark’s texts from this morning as you waited for him at the park. It took you an hour on your own and a 30-minute encouragement session with Jenn to work the confidence to agree to meet him. As nervous as you were to hear what he has to say, you missed him most of all and just wanted to see him. You sat on the second swing on the right, the same one you sat in when the two of you met outside of class the first time.

“Y/N?”

“Oh! Hi,” You got up from the swing to greet him, feeling a bit awkward. You could sense he felt weird too. 

You and Mark are simply classmates. You've been paired up in group projects a couple of times in class and when you see each other on campus, you both timidly wave. But most of the time, you're staring at the back of his head in class, wondering what it’d be like to sit next to him and talk.

So when he asked for your number and texted to meet at the park, your heart felt like it was about to jump out of your chest. Could he see you boring holes into his head or does he look at you the same way?

You wiped your hands on your dress and clasped them in front of you as he stood in his spot, about two feet away.

Why did I wear a dress?, you thought. This is so embarrassing. I look like I’m dressed for a date.

“You look nice,” He says, smiling to break the ice and simultaneously ridding you of your fashion doubts.

“Oh. Thanks,” you force a laugh, also trying to break the ice. “Um, why did you ask me to meet at a park?”

His eyes lit up and he chuckled, “I thought it’d be a good place for some scheming. You know, like in the movies.”

You blinked a few times, not quite catching on. “Scheming?”

He took the swing next to you and sat down. You copied his actions, twisting to look at him. He kicked up to catch some air and swung slightly.

“Okay, this is going to be weird, because I know you barely know me.” Not true, I thought. “But I wanted to ask you a favor. Half of my friends think I’m a dick for this and the other half say that you look understanding, so maybe I should give it a shot. Jaemin was super against it though, so I feel like I’m about to pee my pants right now. I thought about it for like two days and decided, you know what? It wouldn’t hurt to see how you felt, so here I am.” He used his feet as breaks as he finished his ramble to look at you, to seriously look at you.

Your grip on the swings tightens and you can smell the rust smearing on your palms. You can’t believe you get to see your crush this close to your face and he wants to ask you a favor. Your chest feels bubbly with anticipation. You nod, asking him to continue.

“I like Jenn.” The bubbles pop.

“O-oh,” you say. Your mouth has gone completely dry and the wind picked up to blow strands in your face. You quickly brush them away and swallow.

“You… you like my Jenn?” I tightly tuck the strands behind your ears, trying to compose yourself. He giggles and picks up a loose one to help. Mark Lee, what are you doing to me?, you think.

“Yeah. I wanna get closer to her and I know you guys are friends.”

“Best friends,” you clarify, hesitantly.

“Right, right. I know this is insane and I’m like completely using you. So feel free to say no to helping me. You can probably see how desperate I am, but I also can take rejection pretty well! I think.” He tousled his hair with his hand and reoriented himself. 

Clearing his throat, Mark admits, “I’m not… I’m not the best with girls. My game is off completely and I think I really like Jenn. So I thought I’d try. I wanna try. I just don’t know where to start. So I’m sorry if I’m going the wrong way about this or if I offended you.” He huffs. The boy-next-door charm you always see him carry around campus fades and he looks defeated. Despite the slight crack I feel in your heart, it swelled looking into his eyes. He must really like her.

“I’ll help you.”

Mark perked up, his whole body shaking the swingset. “What? Really?” His toothy grin returns and your heart lurches knowing it was partly because of you.

You nod, “Mhm. You seem nice, I think Jenn would like you.” I like you, you thought.

He gets up and tackles you on the swings with a hug. You fall backward and he quickly catches the back of your head before it hits the ground, eyes wide in fear.

“Oh my god, I almost killed you,” he laughs in disbelief. You’re gonna be the death of me, Mark Lee.

“Y/N!”

You almost drop your phone, looking up to meet the eyes of the boy that avoided you for almost two weeks. You thought you'd be overcome with anger, but you weren't. Instead, you felt exactly the same way you felt the first day at the park. Nervous.

“Hey,” you smiled slightly, not getting up from your spot. Mark falters slightly noticing your cold front. He stumbles on the woodchips as he walks over to the swing next to you.

You two swing slightly in silence and you're beating yourself up in your head for not having the courage to curse him out. Jenn prepared you to go off on him and you can’t even open your mouth, you whine to yourself. The more you two sit here, honestly, the angrier you get. Shouldn’t he be saying something? He called you out here in the first place. Before you could utter a word, Mark finally clears his throat. 

“I’m sorry.”

You lift your head to look at him, the first look at him since you took some time apart, and your heart already races when you meet his eyes. You know you're doomed when all the anger suddenly dissipates. You almost want to laugh at how silly this situation is. You still don’t say anything, waiting for him to continue.

“You’re probably confused as to why I’ve been avoiding you. At first, I didn’t know why either. And I know that ignoring you without telling you why wasn’t the move, but it helped me figure it out.” He broke eye contact with you and he started to fiddle with the rings on his fingers. His eyebrows are furrowed and he looks frustrated.

“I did it because I was scared. I was scared because I don’t like Jenn anymore. I’m starting to think I never did.” Mark confesses and he looks upset with himself. You get a good look at his face and you notice the eyebags, the pallor, and his chapped lips. He looks exhausted. You wonder if you look the same.

He sniffles. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I literally put you through all of this just for me to realize I don’t even like her. I used you. And I feel selfish because I still want you in my life.”

“Mark…,” you finally speak, your throat feels rough as if it’s been days. “I have to tell you something.” Your voice came out like a whisper, but it was all the strength you had.

He looks up, a signal to continue.

“As shitty as it was for you to ignore me for over a week, it let me do some thinking too,” you sigh, not wanting to say what comes next. “I don’t think we can be friends right now. And-and don’t worry, it’s not because of the whole 'you befriending me for Jenn' thing. I don’t want you to feel guilty for that because I honestly feel so grateful to have been your friend. I hope, I guess, you feel the same way. But, uh, it’s actually because… it’s because I like you, Mark.”

His jaw drops slightly and his eyes widen, almost like he forgot how to function. It was almost cartoon-like. 

“Yeah,” you awkwardly laugh. “I’ve actually liked you from the start, and I’m not saying that to make you feel guilty. I just thought you should know — to help you understand. Anyways, I realized how hard it is for me to be friends with you when I have these feelings for you. It wouldn’t be fair to me, and I’d be dishonest to you if I continued being friends with you under the guise of purely platonic intentions, you know? I really, really hope you understand.” 

You let out a breath, half relieved and half anxious. After rehearsing that a few times with Jenn, you didn’t expect the words to come out so smoothly. Especially when he’s staring at you like this. However, your pride fades as you wait for his response, a response that determines the future of your relationship.

“I don’t understand,” Mark says firmly. He’s shaking his head trying to wrap his mind around all of it. It feels like a rejection.

“Mark,” you whine, not wanting him to finish his thought -- to spare yourself the awaited pain.

“No, I don’t understand because… because I like you too.”

Heat immediately flushed throughout your chest as you heard the three words you never expected to come out of Mark’s mouth. Your mouth is itching to smile, but a part of you feels doubtful still, weighing down the corners of your lips.

“Are-are you sure? Like are you sure your mind isn’t tricking you into thinking you like me because you realized you don’t like Jenn?” You lean in, close to falling off the swings. You look at him with so much seriousness, but he meets you with a giggle.

“If my mind was tricking me, it’s awfully persistent. I think… in trying to get Jenn to like me, I started to fall for you,” Mark says as if he’s putting the last piece of the puzzle down.

“The image I had of Jenn wasn’t what I expected and I think, while in denial, I was forcing it onto her. I was trying so hard to have real feelings for her, but I think I was also still trying because it meant I got to be with you. Our friendship was contingent on me getting with Jenn, so I guess I was subconsciously scared of losing us… But at the same time, deep down, I wanted more than just a friendship with you.”

Mark looks at you and he offers the widest smile like he found his answer. A smile that ignites the fuzzy fire in your body even more. Your heart is racing so loud you can’t even hear your thoughts.

“Marcus Lee, I didn’t know you had those words in you,” you giggle, trying to soften the conversation.

He shrugs, “Dude, I didn’t think I did either. I just really like you, Y/N. And to be honest, Haechan helped a little.”

As quickly as the happiness came, it washed away just as fast. No matter how ecstatic you were to hear Mark say he likes you back, you couldn’t stop the disgusting doubt that lingered in your mind. You’ve always been in wing woman mode around him, and trying to imagine another scenario where you're the girl he wants is harder than you thought.

“Mark?” you turned to look at him.

“Yeah?” He looks at me with a different light in his eyes.

“I want to believe you, but... I can’t. I can’t really wrap my head around it, I’m sorry.” you clasp your hands together out of nerves.

He dims only a little, “No, I get it." He nods as if gathering the courage to say what's next.

"I can see how it’d be hard to believe. But I’ll prove it to you…

I won’t let you doubt my feelings.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A/N: ahhh thanks for reading if you did!!! the only proofreading i did was to change from first person to second person. sorry about the mistakes but thank you for enjoying it if you did <3

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

TXT (Green/Yellow/Red Flags) In Relationships

Now time to look at my other favorites to see what we can get here, so we can see the full spectrum of where they stand as boyfriends.

Yeonjun

Green Flag (King of Wands) He's got very passionate energy in relationships. A great lover. He knows how to take the lead. He can be pretty creative as boyfriend. He can definitely bring the heat and passion. He will bring excitement to the relationship. He will inspire his partner to take action on things and be creative. He will exude confidence and will bring that out in his partner. I can see him having a lot of fun ideas for dates and adventures to go on.

Yellow Flag (Knight of Wands) Can be a bit too flirty and playful with others. Can probably cheat, but this is a Yellow flag and I feel that would be more of a red flag, so he may not actually cheat, but he will flirt with others behind his partners back. I know men like this, some men will do this. So, he may date people who can get suspicious of him due to his flirty nature.

Red Flag (8 of Pentacles) He may struggle to commit, to do the hard work, may not be in it for the long haul. Enjoys the fun and fireworks, but not into the mundane and boring parts of the relationship. He may dip when things get too stale or boring. I swear Venus in Fire signs tend to be this way. They like the fun, but don't enjoy the low moments, boring times or the work put into relationships.

Soobin

Green Flag (2 of Pentacles) He would bring a nice balance to the relationships. A nice equal give and take. He would not put all his energy to his partner and be too intense. He has the ability to multi-task and can handle balancing his work and the relationship. He will put in as much for his partner, so he wouldn't leave them hanging, even with his busy schedule, he will make time for his partner. I also see him being able to do different duties as a boyfriend, like how Men only do certain things and women do certain things. I feel gender roles in relationships won't be a big deal for him. He can be pretty fluid and take on duty's females tend to do.

Yellow Flag (Queen of Wands) He may be tempted by hot/sexy/rebellious women I don't know how to take this card. This also gives me similar vibes to Sunoo as he has this energy or pull that brings people to him. He has a magnetic charm that may have people pursue him even in a relationship and he may not stop that flirting either. He might like dangerous and toxic partners, not sure why that is a yellow flag, or why that is popping up, isn't that a red flag, or it is cautioning him to not go down that path, which is why it is a yellow flag, this confused me lol

Red Flag (10 of Pentacles) His partner may have to come from high status. He seems to be focused more on the aesthetics or trying to appease his family. He may not date someone out of love, but out of pride and what that can do for his image. Well, that Venus in Cap is showing up here. It will be about the money and aesthetics for him, more about the appearance, than a loving partnership. Like I am getting, he will marry someone to appease his family and his image, but not because he loves the idea of it. Okay, my bias is showing up here don't give af, but Korea is a society where if one doesn't get married you are looked down on. Soobin gives me vibes he doesn't want to marry but has "no choice" but to follow tradition and so will do it for the aesthetic. Now he has a choice to just not do it but will probably fall into the pressure. No facts here, just my intuition here. So, the red flag is being in a relationship out of necessity, not love. Now if both parties agree, I don't see it as a red flag, but if the other party doesn't than yeah.

Beomgyu

Let me just say, this boy loves to talk, every time I read him cards fly out, although he tried to hide the red flag, because that didn't fly out lol

Green Flag (Page of Swords) This card is an interesting green flag. This one gives me more yellow flag energy. He is a curious person. I see him wanting to learn a lot about his partner, so he will inquire and let his partner talk. He will be invested and interested in hearing their story and perspective on things. I just hear him saying what do you think about this or that. This is so Pisces. I have a friend like this. He will try not to ruffle his partner's feathers or hurt them, so he may be cautious how he says or words things. I say, he will give his partner more room to speak and will mostly observe and listen.

Yellow Flag (6 of Cups) Once again, Pisces energy. He will be very idealistic, romanticize things, a bit childlike and immature, holds on the past a lot. He may not see things for what it is, or look at the bad sides to the relationship. He might paint the relationship how he wants to paint it, and may not see red flags or toxic things in the relationship. Naive and oblivious at times.

Red Flag (6 of Wands) Competitive energy, a need to win at all costs. A need to have the upper hand. Strong need for appraisal, could have an ego and a strong sense of pride. They will need to stroke his ego a lot. This doesn't give me toxic energy, it is giving me babying him and a need to always hype him up, which can get tiring. I swear this goes back to his Mom and the way she raised him. Not knocking her, she gave him a loving environment, but a bit too coddling that it bleeds into his relationships, and it can get too much for his partners.

Taehyun

He did the same things as Beomgyu, eager to speak on the first two, but slow on the red flag lol

Green Flag (5 of Pentacles rv) He will not let his partner feel alone or abandoned. He will always have their back and will make them feel included in his life. If you need him, he will be there no matter what, even if he can't physically be there. His partner can always come to him. He will make them feel secure and will probably financially support them if need be.

Yellow Flag (7 of Pentacles) This is interesting, not sure how to take this one. He might let you be a bit too dependent on him. Hmm, I am getting something here, it is like he may want his partner to be dependent on him, so he can have some semblance of control here. It is like he will need his partner to lean on him.

Red Flag (King of Pentacles) Is his Venus in an Earth sign? Tried looking that up but couldn't find anything. But it doesn't matter. Going along with the Yellow Flag, he will need to have control, he might want to be the sole breadwinner, might like his partner to stay at home, be that traditional home wife. It is kind of a way of control he would like. I will say, his energy reminds me a bit of Jake's in relationships, lowkey kind of toxic energy here. Although, his energy is more calculated and calmer, so it might make him a little scarier in a sense. It is like he has to have financial control to keep his partner in check. All allegedly, no facts, just reading cards. That anon could be on to something lol Not a fan of this energy. In romantic relationships he is a different breed, because when I read for him outside of it, he seems pleasant.

Hueningkai

Green Flag (Justice) The Hierophant also came out, so he may be the type that wants to get married, or in it for the long haul. He seeks balance and fairness in relationships. He is always open to discuss with his partner. There is always an open dialogue there. If there are disagreements. He would want to work through it and may seek help to get through it. He will always try to see the perspective of his partner and will not disregard their thoughts on things.

Yellow Flag (9 of Cups) He may appear happier than he seems. Probably focuses more on trying to be happy. Doesn't want to focus on sad emotions. It is like he tries to paint a happy picture, maybe to his partner, or to others about the relationship. Also, he may never be satisfied with things and want more, or he can be passive and content with things and doesn't seek more. He might not want to go too deep and dark with his partner when it comes to his issues. He kind of prefers to show a happy appearance, like he is good.

Red Flag (5 of Cups) Bruh he is so confusing, so this gives me he can be overdramatic, get down in the dumps about things, but this negates the yellow flag of appearing happy, so he may keep that to himself and wallow a lot. He might focus on spilled milk, rather than the good he has. How he makes no damn sense. He may struggle to move on from things in the past. It is like it is hard for him to see the good sides of things. He will focus on the negatives, so nothing will be satisfactory for him. Honestly, Leo energy here, sorry to ya'll Leo's, but unevolved Leo's can be this way, not all of ya'll lol

How I didn't think this would be as messy as Enhypen, but it may be even messier wtf Once again, love them from afar, but couldn't deal with any of these energies here. Yeonjun would be fun, but nothing serious there. It is like the more I went down the line, the messier it got lol

[sparkling-nov]

HEY HEY GUYS GUESS WHAT THESE TWO FEMALE CHARACTERS HAVE IN COMMON?!

Their Both called Selfish, Mean, A Monster and the Real Villain For not Complying to their male antagonist's Selfish and Unfair Rules😍🤩

Princess peach is selfish and mean cause she cares about her Family and Community lives and Refused Bowser's *Forced* Marriage proposal.

Asha is selfish and mean cause she cares about her Family and Community wishes and wants people to be able to pursue their dreams themselves But King Magnifico Scams people out of their wishes and lies straight to their faces that he'll grent them but never will and won't let people pursue their dreams themselves either.

You don't know the Shock i felt when i find out that people really think princess peach was "too rude" Towards bowser and may i remind y'all, bowser in the movie is evil, like really evil, he killed one of his koopers cuz he knowledge the Possibility of peach Rejecting him, he Kidnapped Hundreds of Innocent people and Forced peach to Watch them Slowly Descend into Death! Like i was so Flappergasted when i saw people out right Ignoring or Sugar coating the things bowser did and Victim blaming or painting peach as the "real villain" all because she rightfully rejected bowser's Forced marriage!, then thats when i Thought to myself "wait...this reminds me of how people act Towards asha and magnifico!"

Bowser and King Magnifico Actually do have some Similarities Between them

They both sing a song that shows their """"""love"""""" for someone or something, being "Peachs" and "At All Costs" but they both have Selfish meanings to them.

They both went after a star that does NOT belong to them.

They both hit the person that they """"love"""" near the end of the movie.

They both get Imprisoned at the end, bowser in a jer and king magnifico in a mirror.

And if their Subjects don't Agree or Obey them then they will Hurt or kill them.

Now bowser is Worser then king magnifico in some cases with Destroying kingdoms, Forcing a woman to marry you or else he'll kill everyone she's love etc etc, but if anything that makes it worse, Because bowser did all of these Horrible Unredeemable things to princess peach and others only for people to Completely ignore or sugar coat for the Sake of "but...but bowser make cute sad face for 1 second 🥺" and "but bowser did everything for peach🥺" and also "BUT HE'S HOT" And making up Traumatic back stories for bowser as to why he kidneps princess peach Really does open my eyes that even if king magnifico was more "Threatening" it Wouldn't Matter because people Still find itVery Hard to Emphasize with the Female Character even with princess peach A Character who has been Around For Years and Suffering from the Abuse of Bowser for as long as her character has Existed Gets called a "Real Villain" for Saving her people, it all too much reminds me of How people React Towards King Magnifico and Asha,

People Excusing or Ignoring the Fact that King Magnifico locks up MOST of people's wishes Never to be Fulfilled or Given back While lying to Hundreds of people that he will grant them, All Because he let's people have free Houses is the same as People Excusing and ignoring the fact that Bowser Threatens peach to Agree with the Marriage or he'll kill toad All Because bowser sings a song about how much he """""Loves""""" princess peach and his Proposal starts off """""Gentle""""", Letting the Manipulative Male Antagonist off the hook Because he did something "nice".

People Calling Asha Selfish, Cruel and Evli Because she wants people and her 100 year old Grandfather to live out their wishes is the same as People Calling Princess Peach Selfish, Cruel and Evil Because she wants to keep her people safe and not Marry A Whole Terrorist, Vilifying the Female Protagonist for Challenging, Questioning, or Not Complying to the male antagonist's Selfish and Unfair Rules.

By the way I'm not saying Scaming People out of their wishes is the as Forced Marriage, no. I'm saying the way people Treat asha and princess peach are the same, the way people treat bowser and king magnifico are the same. Sometimes it just looks like A Male Villain is not really allowed to be a villain no Matter what Horrible things he does, just a guy who needs a hug when the in question Hero is female, And the Female hero is not allowed to be a hero, her Story has to be morally gray or just a Straight up bitch and the real villain no matter the Heroic things she does, Asha and Princess Peach actually are selfless and careing, they fought for their kingdoms and others but because their antagonists are Attractive man, the heroic things she did get Ignored and Casted aside.

[bird-inacage]

I was thinking about Sand and Top, and why Sand is hanging on so hard to the past, and what that might say about Sand (and Boeing). One thing I've seen floating around is that the way Sand fixates on Top having "stolen" his ex could indicate some ugly things about Sand re: possessiveness, maybe a controlling nature in relationships, like Boeing is some kind of prize to be won. And that could mean that Boeing leaving him for Top might be less about Top and more about not getting what he wanted from Sand. Alternately, it could be that Sand blames Top because it's easier to do than to acknowledge Boeing's fault in the decision, because it feeds into Sand's fears of inadequacy because of his poverty and the ways his circumstances (time and obligations) restrict what he's able to offer in a relationship. Which might mean Sand hasn't really gotten over Boeing because he's idealised him and blamed everything on Top. Which could be fun if Boeing comes back! Another fun thing I've been thinking about is the Checkov's Gun of whoever Sand's father turns out to be. If it's Top's dad, well, that would play in really nicely to Sand's inadequacy issues with Top - my brother who has the things that I should also have a right to has used those things (status, wealth, freedom) to steal away someone I loved. And on Top's side of things: did he love Boeing? Did he just pursue Boeing because he could and then get bored later? I'd personally love it if Boeing was seduced because Top was pursuing him and it was interesting and fun and exciting but then Boeing left Top because he was bored and unsatisfied in the actual relationship and said some choice words about Sand being better on the way out. Let me have Top with a chip on his shoulder about Sand! That would be delicious! Anyway, I trust Jojo to deliver some tasty spicy drama on this front. What would you like to see out of this plotline?

Hey Anon! :)

I'd almost forgotten about that little clue we'd been dropped a few episodes ago. For the sake of contextualising this for anyone else, I'm assuming you're referring to the little model airplane that Top had in his hotel apartment with the letter 'B' on it (as below)?

I haven't personally read any theories on 'Boenig' (aka whoever gave Top that airplane) being the same person as Sand's ex. In regards to the whole Sand VS Top dynamic, there have been very little concrete clues given to us so far. I try to make predictions based largely on what we've been shown and what I understand of these characters at this current point in the series. So for that reason I'll just discuss my thoughts on Sand's ex.

One thing I will definitely agree on is there's more to this story. Episode 6 confirmed that for me. In order for Sand to be so driven to seek revenge on Top, that he would disregard and risk how Ray may respond, said to me that this grudge runs truly deep.

For Sand to be so disgusted makes me think that either Sand's ex was a very important person in his life (a la Mew for Ray), or the way in which Top seduced or caught his ex's eye was really vile and underhanded.

Due to the fact that Sand's ex is no longer associated with Top meant that it either wasn't serious (maybe they both screwed Sand over), or it didn't work out. However the way Top behaves with Mew suggests that's the first attempted "serious" relationship he's tried to have. So the former may be more likely.

The interesting thing for me though is that Sand and Top clearly look like people who operate in different circles. So Sand's taste in romantic partners I imagine differs quite significantly from Top's. What is it about Sand's ex that would have caught Top's eye in the first place?

I also can't get this out of my mind:

When Sand said this, he looked like he was thinking of a specific memory, very likely the whole debacle with his ex.

Something you did mention, which I thought would be really interesting, is for Sand's ex to return. The cast have been alluding to a special cameo by a familiar face. But especially if they were returning in an attempt to patch things up with Sand and rekindle. Because that would also provide a great source of conflict for Ray/Sand.

As soon as Ray sees Sand possibly being 'taken away' from him, he'll realise how important Sand is. Which would align with the below scene and make sense with Ray's personality. He doesn't want Sand when Sand wants him, but as soon as Sand may be swayed, Ray does want him. Again, classic brat temperament.

In regards to Sand and Top being related - I'm not a huge fan of that theory. I don't see what purpose or additional depth it would add to either of their characters or story arcs in terms of writing.

The 'who is B (aka Boeing)' question is still very much at large for me. I can see why people may think B is Sand's ex, but I'm not convinced Top would keep a memento from someone he "conquered" and "won" from someone else. That doesn't suggest a relationship that has particularly sentimental meaning attached to it.

But thank you for reminding me about the B mystery. There is definitely more to come...

---birdie

[bluemoondust]

Could You Do Yandere Headcanons For Sayori (DDLC)?

✧General Yandere Headcanons✧ — Sayori

Sayori my beloved (ღ˘ω˘ღ)

Warning(s): Unhealthy Lifestyle (On Sayori's end), Self Deprecation, Angst (I'm fr cranking this stuff up because aksjkwkwj)

To get things started, Sayori is a very selfless yandere who only wants to make you happy. Sure, she has her moments where she'd like to be selfish with you, but the overwhelming guilt just stops her. So she's put herself in the sidelines for you. The only reason she'd actually put more into pursuing you is either you instigating (of course you none the wiser) or the thought of you never talking to her again becoming too much for her. Even before this, she cherishes you to the point where she would rather die than see you upset/disappointed in her.

In terms of what type of yandere she is, I'd say she's more of a submissive and obsessive yandere. When I mean by submissive, I am referring to the fact that Sayori is a yandere who's emotionally dependent on her darling. To an extreme, but she can manage keeping this information away from you. A large part of her believes that you are what gives her life meaning. You're the reason why she can muster the strength to get up in the morning. Without you, what is the point of it all? It is so unhealthy that Sayori gets extremely anxious when she introduces you to the literature club. Why did she even do this in the first place? She asks herself but she knows that she'd love to have her friends be friends with one another.

Plus, it'd be selfish of her to keep you to herself, she chides. It's better though...being able to spend more time with you in the club. Sayori didn't like the idea of leaving you behind for a simple get together with the others. So, what better way than to bring you along? You'd even love it! However, there's these nagging feeling. It's so...narcissistic to want to show you her writing skills. Are you annoyed that she dragged you along? Maybe you only agreed because she was your friend? Ugh, couldn't she have considered how you felt instead of assuming you'd enjoy being here? She didn't even tell you. How could she just push this onto you!? Are you upset with her? God, why can't these thoughts get out of her head!?

Then you're there. You're here. The noise is gone as she looks at the smile on your face. That's what she was always after. The smile on your face and the sound of your laughter. It's enough to bring her back to reality. She can't lose that. The thought of you leaving brings tears in her eyes as she sobs in the school bathroom. She had nightmares about it before, so Sayori works to the best of her ability to keep you happy. As long as you were happy, she was as well...

The only thing you'd notice out of all of this would be her depression and low self-esteem. You wouldn't really suspect that she was a yandere. It'd play out similar in the game, where you discover her her internal struggles and reassure her that she's not a burden. Sayori is delighted to hear that from you, but again, her thoughts eat at her. She's upset that she made you worry so much about her. It must've been such an inconvenience... You'd have to be very adamant with her, which only causes her to have the need to cling even more. You're only digging a deeper hole.

Sayori doesn't get jealous, she feels envy. She is envious of others who hang out with you. They are so carefree. So free. They didn't hold the gnawing guilt of being too clingy or annoying around you. They can freely be themselves without trouble. She wanted to do that too, but fears she may overstep. She's already your childhood friend, you're probably tired of seeing her too often. It's better to see other people once in a while. Sometimes Sayori would like to be able to read your mind. Then she'd be able to cater to you better. It wouldn't be so hard to guess or assume.

When it comes to danger, she's more of a danger to herself than anyone else. So please keep in mind to watch over her since she may neglect her basic needs. Sayori will lose sleep and forget to eat often. She'll try to act like her bubbly self, but you notice it's not the same. Her eyes don't shine like they always do and her smile seems tired. Confronting her is good, but she will be sent into a spiral. Although she loves the fact that you care so much for her, the ugly thoughts in her mind say that she hates how much attention she's getting for this. They tell her how much she's making herself look pitiful just for you to look only at her. It's...extremely conflicting.

It's a completely different story when she becomes club president as finally wakes up to the true reality. Everything...was fake? No. Her feelings for you weren't fake, they were real. So real that it hurt. Whatever opinion she had on Monika before being a yandere is now...resentment. It was not Sayori who was selfish, it was Monika. She made her feel so awful about loving you to the point of...her mind couldn't fathom such actions. Now, she knew that she couldn't let go of you. Not ever. No matter how much the former club president pleaded for the game to stop. It's too bad, Sayori was now in charge. Just Sayori.

[aita-blorbos]

Am I The- oh, well, language like that is really quite excessive- am I… in the wrong for taking a job opportunity at the expense of someone very dear to me?

I (an older gentleman) have worked for an… agency for most of my existence. Essentially, I represent my agency in various locations around the world and ensure that our goals are being pursued. However, there is a rival agency (they were originally part of my agency, but broke off a very long time ago due to differences in ideology), with their own representative (my age, usually male) whose job it was to do the same for his side. We were often sent to the same places by our bosses, and as such interacted frequently. He didn’t much care for his job, and helped me to realize that I didn’t much care for mine either. Our respective agencies are deeply corrupt and care more about defeating each other than actually doing what they were founded for. Plus, with both of us in the same places, we often cancelled each other’s work out. He eventually convinced me to agree to a deal: when we both had work to do in the same area, one of us would do both jobs and the other would get some free time. It was far more efficient, and our bosses didn’t care so long as the work was done (although we knew they wouldn’t like it if they knew we were working together.) Through this arrangement and over many years, we became quite good friends.

A few years ago, our respective agencies had a shared goal for the first time in… well, ever. However, if their plans were to come to fruition, almost everything that my friend and I held dear would be lost. In order to prevent this, we attempted to subtly sabotage their plans. We- well, it’s hard to put it lightly- we were quite incompetent at this, and so while we were able to prevent our bosses’ goals from being met, they knew it was our fault, and also that we had been corresponding with each other. We were promptly fired and sent out of our agencies as traitors. Neither of us minded this much (although my friend certainly handled the change better than I did), and we’ve been spending the past few years without having to hide from anybody. It really has been a lovely time.

Recently, both of our former bosses quit their jobs (well, mine was apparently fired first, but I don’t know the full story) because they had fallen in love, and they ran off together. It really was quite sweet, although the irony of it was not lost on me. Shortly after this, my former boss’ boss (the second highest up in the agency) met up with me and gave me an incredible offer: he told me that he thought I was the best possible replacement for the position, and even offered to allow my friend to join and work alongside me in my agency again, just like he had before the rival agency split off. I would be in charge of almost the entire agency, and my friend would be 2nd in command. I didn’t know what to say, so he encouraged me to go share the news with my friend. I quickly found him to do just that, and, due to the weight of this offer, spoke first when he informed me he also had something to say. When I told him, though, he was… less than pleased. He had assumed I would say no and was upset that I hadn’t. Then, he told me what he had planned to say.

I suppose our former bosses running off together had emboldened him, because he (quite bravely, might I add,) spoke about us, and what we were. He said we were pretending not to be what we truly were, and that if our bosses could go off and be together, so could we. If it weren’t for the timing, it would have been deeply touching. I tried to remind him that we could be together if we both worked for my agency- if I were in charge with him at my side, then surely we could reform the agency’s ideals, and make it what it should have been all along. He disagreed with me. We argued, and I believe we both said things we shouldn’t have. At the height of our argument, he… he kissed me. It was not gentle, nor was it romantic. It was angry and cruel. When he broke away I was upset- how couldn’t I be, when he had just done that to me- but I’ve always prided myself on being the bigger person. I told him I forgave him. He stormed away, and my soon-to-be boss returned. He began to walk me towards the… offices, when he informed me of the agency’s current plans: it was the same thing my friend and I had thwarted years ago, only executed differently. I stopped and turned around, only to see my friend standing there, watching, for whatever reason I do not know. Perhaps to torture me. I couldn’t just go back to him, especially knowing what my agency had planned, so I turned back around and followed my new boss to headquarters.

Now I’m here, and, God help me, I don’t know if I’ve made the right choice. I’m utterly miserable. But reform is the only way to ensure that my agency (and most likely the rival agency) will not be able to destroy everything I’ve ever held dear. I feel horrible for leaving my only true companion behind, but I refuse to run away from what can be fixed, and if I have to sacrifice his friendship- er, well, “friendship” isn’t the proper word for it, I suppose- in order to keep him and everything else safe, then so be it. Or, that’s what I’m trying to tell myself, but I just feel so conflicted. Because I cannot trust my own judgement and I certainly cannot trust holy judgement at this time, I believe human judgement is my best option. So, members of this internet community, I ask you, do you believe I’ve made a mistake?

[wangjiclub]

I need to take this off my chest so I can move on.

Only Friends was a TopMew show disguised as an attempt to release a disruptive and innovative queer media.

Now that the show has ended and the world could see the product in its entirety we're able to judge it. I have no idea what actually went on behind the curtains or what was the real intention of the creators or how they view polygamy. But, as part of the audience and the target consumer, I feel like I'm able to talk about it and criticize it.

What they did to not only BostonNick but to NeoMark as well was horrible. How do you introduce them as part of the main 6, then forget about them along the way? The amount of screentime was diminishing as the episodes were released, and it was clear that scenes were cut off. The amount of disrespect.

Now, talking specifically about Boston. Up until episode 11 there were a lot of discussions going on about how Boston would pursue his relationship with Nick. First I'd like to side with the people who criticized his action when he spent a lot of time leading Nick on. He indeed did that and the scene I can give as an example was that one at the pool. Boston clearly said that he wanted to stop sleeping around so much because he'd rather fuck with someone who he could talk to. Now, he never said anything about being exclusive, but he knew how Nick felt and was manipulating the guy with his words so Nick could be more pliant. But I also agree with people saying that at that time he was already falling for Nick, just didn't know how to act upon it. He never felt like this before, it was all new to him.

When everything broke down (because of Sand) he felt so betrayed and more than that: heartbroken. He was already falling in love with Nick, he felt like he could be himself with Nick, so the punch hit hard. Now this is the moment when everything went wrong, including the narrative and the writer's view of the character. How come, in the middle of all these nasty young adults, the only one who gets kicked like he's nothing over and over again is the one who has a very active and out of the norm sex life? How dare them keep giving the majority part of the episodes to TopMew so they could develop that shitty plot line and cut it all all BostonNick/NeoMark scenes, the couple who actually needed the time?

A lot of things rubbed me the wrong way at the finale. The main one was the BostonBoeing situation. Not gonna lie, the kiss was insanely good, but there was no reason for it to happen. How come Boston was all lovey dovey towards Nick for at least two episodes, and like a sudden shift, he went all hoe mode (nothing against it honestly) and even talked about his boyfriend????? This doesn't make any sense. In the balcony scene, Boston TOLD Nick he would be the only one, and that's why people started to talk about how he could be monogamic. Then suddenly, someone who always defended himself by saying he never lied, just lies? Why didn't the writers put Boston and Nick to have a conversation about how things would work out? Open relationships are already very common, they could discuss some rules and limits. Nick could say that as Boston were about to leave in a few months he would feel better if it was exclusive and maybe Boston could accept it because it would be only for a few months and he loved Nick and he was leaving. Or Nick could try to understand and say what he wouldn't accept and they could try. It would be just for a moment, it's not like neither of them would have to become another person entirely. They. Could. Work. It. All.

The writers decided not to.

But bow down to Neo in his final scene. The emotion on his eyes. Wow. Boston was so sad, so miserable at this moment. He didn't deserve any of that.

They destroyed BostonNick to give the righteous couple, TopMew, the space and dedication so the audience would not be upset. F*ck me. If they wanted to please these people, why did they approve of Only Friends? Why didn't they turn TopMew's plot into a solo show or something? The whole narrative loved to make Mew stand out like the moral standard he thinks he is. But congratulations to Book! His acting made me dislike Mew entirely.

And I'd like to talk a little about Force. I felt like he did much better when he was acting opposed to anyone but Book. I didn't feel ForceBook's chemistry at all. But maybe it was just this time, I still have to watch their other works.

But that's it. I'm tired of being angry, I'll search fanfics to cure my broken heart.

[tis-miss-mae]

this whole situation with wilbur and his "apology" has got me all worked up. I'm glad he said something so those who were unconvinced it was him can move on, but what he said makes little difference

to sum things up, Wilbur admitted he was "slobbish, disrespectful, and selfish," was "shocked" by abuse allegations and thought the biting was consensual, apologized for "any pain that I caused," and believes he's a better person now and wants to earn and maintain others' trust

I'm all about extending second chances and not forcing people to stay at the lowest point or in their worst mistakes. everyone has a chance to become a better person and should pursue that chance. that doesn't mean they'll regain what was lost or be forgiven by all; there are consequences to our actions and avoiding those should never be the goal. that said, I genuinely hope that wilbur is actually working on himself and is becoming a better person

I just don't feel like I have much of a reason to believe that is true rn. his "apology" felt icky, like he knew he was caught and was trying to salvage his reputation. he never directly apologized for his actions or admitted to being wrong, aside from his "slobbish, disrespectful, and selfish" disposition at the end of the relationship. he didn't even say her name

Shubble's accusation against him were more than just biting and selfishness. she said he bit her to the point where they "needed" a safe word (he should've just been able to stop biting so hard or completely), would purposefully bite until the safe word had been yelled and then would bite some more, or grind his teeth, or smirk after doing it. the bruising was so bad that wilbur noted that it looked abusive and switched to biting concealed parts of her body (!!). he claimed to miss her but wouldn't give her time. he would have her clean his apartment and would purposefully not clean because he knew she would be there to do it. he lied about his activities and how long his friends would be in the area, thus controlling Shubble's. he expected her to pay for more than she should have, and wouldn't pay for things he agreed to. he returned her clothes that she asked for after moving out, but he sold every other item of hers that was left. and these are just the things I remember/know about

wilbur's "apology" didn't even touch the serious stuff that affected Shubble so much. it tried to paint him a better light as a man who had made mistakes and was learning from them, but instead it just helped to pull back the layers and revealed that he is a man that cares for his reputation above others' feelings and a man that refuses to actually acknowledge the weight of his actions or commit to doing better

disappointing doesn't begin to describe it

[nychthemeron-rants]

Daddy Angel AU

Niffty's mom:

Niffty's mother in this AU is a Japanese American woman named Hana Tanaka living in Brooklyn, New York. She worked as a seamstress in Angel's gang's territory.

Hana was a close friend of Molly's in life, and this is how Angel met her. Due to Angel being much more respectful to women than any of the other gangsters, being very charming, and protecting her and the rest of Molly's other friends from some creeps once she developed a huge crush on him. Eventually, everyone except for Angel figures out her crush because she isn't subtle, but Angel is too preoccupied and gay to think anything of it.

Then, one night, Molly and her friends were drinking at a bar that Angel's gang owned at the same time as Angel and some of the other gang members. Angel's buddies start giving him shit for never having a girlfriend and never pursuing women, and soon the teasing starts heading to "prove you aren't gay" territory. Since at this point its common knowledge Hana has a thing for Angel, they point him to her as someone who'd be easy to seduce. And she is.

After, Angel feels horrible and guilty. He admits he only had sex with her to get his buddies off his ass, and that he doesn't want anything more with her, that he views her as a great woman, but just not his type. Hana is crushed but asks if they can stay friends. When Angel agrees, she has him swear not to go around telling people what happened, given the repercussions of a woman losing her virginity before marriage in the 1930s. Angel swears.

A while later, Hana finds out she's pregnant. Still single, she panics and goes to Angel to see one last time if there is any chance he'd be open to a relationship. He says no, and when she presses, he says says that she's a great woman who deserves a man who will actually be able to love and provide for her, two things he can't do. She relents and leaves without ever mentioning she's pregnant.

Next that Angel hears of her its Molly telling him that she's moving to New Jersey. Angel is disappointed because he did consider her a friend but doesn't think much of it.

Meanwhile, Hana had told Molly everything, and Molly swears to be a good auntie, even if Hana doesn't want Angel to know that he's the dad. Over the years, Molly and Hana keep in touch, send letters, call, and occasionally meet up. Angel mostly hears and communicates with her through Molly. He even has seen pictures of her and her daughter, though he thinks its odd that her husband is never in any of the photos...

Niffty is born when Angel and Hana are both about 20, Angel dies at 35, when Niffty is 15, still under the assumption that Hana married and had Niffty with a husband that doesn't exist. Hana is upset by this news but had long since moved on and only mourns him as a friend and mourns that Niffty will now never get to meet her father.

Hana never marries. She raises her daughter, Niffty, as a single mother by claiming her husband died and she's too grief-stricken to remarry. Its extremely hard, but despite all odds they pull through. This is especially miraculous as Niffty has always been very clearly mentally ill and people had pressured Hana to institutionalize her. In fact, this threat is a large part of why she never remarried, a husband could send Niffty away without Hana's consent. Hana instead did everything she could to help and protect Niffty and got her all the way into adulthood.

She encourages Niffty to go to college, both to find a husband and to get an education so she has options if she can't find a husband. Unfortunately for them both, Niffty does find a husband early on and drops out to marry him.

Hana can tell that this asshole is bad news, but she can't get through to Niffty. So the marriage goes through. She makes her daughter's wedding dress.

Suddenly she barely hears from her daughter and after only a few years she gets a call that Niffty had killed her husband and had been arrested. And then in what felt like a blink of an eye her baby had not only been institutionalized after years of trying to prevent exactly that, but she had died from a botched lobotomy.

Wracked with grief, Hana moves back to New York to be with friends and family. There, she spends the rest of her life as a beloved pillar of the community and maintaining her friendship with Molly, serving as an aunt to her kids. She passed peacefully in her 80s and now resides in heaven, still friends with Molly after all this time. However, she is horrified by the knowledge that Niffty is in hell.

[lansplaining]

[one snippet of a chengqing hallmark rom com for as many days of december as i feel like!] 

Lotus Pier was done for-- or at least it was meant to be. After 100 years (ancient and venerable, in west coast time) the whole enterprise had gone up in flames-- literally and therefore, one would assume, metaphorically as well. Especially a school, which is not exactly the kind of place that can withstand extended periods of unexpected closure, or any hint that the premises might be unsafe. But those who predicted Lotus Pier’s demise four years ago had failed to account for Jiang Cheng. 

Now, Jiang Cheng sometimes felt like Lotus Pier was actively in flames all around him, metaphorically this time. But in point of fact, the school was standing and operating and-- surviving. It was surviving.

Jiang Cheng was also-- standing. Operating. Surviving. Which was fine, more than enough, especially given his only real confidante usually had other things on his mind. For example--

“Jiujiu!” Jin Ling bellowed the second his feet hit the floor of Jiang Cheng’s office. Jiang Cheng stood to intercept him as he came tearing across the little room, as past experience had revealed that Jin Ling would attempt to just climb over the desk, and would not succeed. Jiang Cheng scooped him up, then turned to see Jin Guangyao looking politely amused in the doorway. 

“Jiujiu,” Jin Ling demanded before Jiang Cheng could get out an actual, adult greeting. “I want a Christmas tree.”

“We put up the decorations in Koi Tower today,” Jin Guangyao said, smiling still, but sounding apologetic. “A-Ling was very taken with them-- weren’t you?”

“Yes,” Jin Ling said decisively. “I want one. I want it-- this big.” He flung his arm upwards, indicating a height somewhere past Jiang Cheng’s head. 

“Right,” said Jiang Cheng. “Well, we’ll... see what we can do. Hi, Guangyao. Would you like to take a seat?” 

Jin Guangyao nodded his thanks and pulled out the chair on the opposite side of Jiang Cheng’s desk. Something about that chair often put people ill at ease-- instinctive memories, Jiang Cheng assumed, of being trouble in school and called into the principle’s office. But if Jin Guangyao felt that, he didn’t show it. 

“So, what did you want to discuss?” Jiang Cheng asked, as Jin Ling busied himself with settling into Jiang Cheng’s lap and playing with the pens on his desk. 

Jin Guangyao wasn’t the type to make annoying jokes about oh, right down to business, he just reached for the briefcase he’d just set down. “I actually wanted to speak to you on behalf of my father. As you’ve probably heard, he’s looking to expand his property portfolio, and there have been such promising redevelopments in the waterfront area in recent years. As you know-- all this construction!” 

“The construction,” Jiang Cheng agreed automatically. He already didn’t like where this was going. Even setting aside the fact that there were still parts of the site they hadn’t had the time or money to fully repair yet, Lotus Pier stood out like a sore thumb these days amongst all the new waterfront hotels and high rises. 

“He’s aware, of course, of how hard you’ve worked over the past few years to get Lotus Pier back on its feet,” Jin Guangyao went on. “And it occurred to him that there might be an arrangement here that would be beneficial to everyone. You would have cash in hand, and could seek out a premises with less complicated upkeep, and my father would be able to pursue a waterfront development.” 

Jiang Cheng just stared at him, silent for a moment or two. “You...”

“Want to buy Lotus Pier,” Jin Guangyao agreed. “Naturally no one is asking you to make a decision right here! But...” Now he opened the briefcase and pulled out a stack of papers. “I wanted to bring you our proposal. The price, of course, but also our plans for the property, as I suspected you’d be interested to know what the land would become before agreeing to anything. It has been in your family for a long time, and we want to respect that.” 

He slid a thick, plastic-bound packet across the table. Jiang Cheng just sort of looked at it, but Jin Ling eagerly slapped his hand down on it and pulled it closer, so Jiang Cheng hand it carefully extricate it from his hands. 

“Thanks,” he said, more out of instinct than out of any conscious thought. He was too dazed to do anything else, too focused on not letting his confusion morph-- as it so often did-- into anger. There was no question Jin Guangyao had done all the work to prepare this proposal, but he was equally sure the idea itself came straight from Jin Guangshan. It would do him no good to get angry at Jin Guangyao, even though he’d seen him withstand being screamed at by his own family without the slightest waver to his habitual smile. 

It was this same state of dazed autopilot that made him, when the phone suddenly started ringing, reach out and answer it. 

“--sorry, let me take this,” he blurted out a second too late. Jin Guangyao agreed with a polite nod. “--hi. Lotus Pier Academy, this is Jiang Cheng speaking.”

“Oh,” said a woman’s voice on the other end of the line, a bit startled. “I didn’t think I’d get straight through to you.” 

“What can I do for you?” he asked, assuming that this random person didn’t actually want to hear about how they still couldn’t afford to hire a full-time secretary. 

“My name is Wen Qing, and I’m calling on behalf of the Nevernight Group. I apologize for cold-calling this way, but I’m going to be in the area for business in a few days and wondered if I could-- sorry, I really thought I’d be speaking to your assistant-- I wondered if I could get a meeting in your calendar while I’m here. My employer is interested in discussing your future plans for your property, and whether you might be open to some form of partnership in relation to the future of the site.”

“--oh.” Maybe, Jiang Cheng thought, there was such a thing as fate. “Yeah, sure. Tuesday lunchtime?” 

“Sounds perfect,” she said. “That was-- very efficient, thank you. I look forward to meeting you.”

“Same to you,” Jiang Cheng said. He hung up the phone, pulled his staff lanyard out of Jin Ling’s mouth, and said, “Well, Jin Guangyao. You’ve got a competing offer.”

[herrlindemann]

Rock Hard - April 2001, Interview with Paul

On April 2nd, the world should sit up and take notice — if Rammstein has his way. Their third studio album 'Mutter' will be released that day. Guitarist Paul Landers looks back with us on a phase that ended with the first two albums and ventures prophecies for the future of the band.

According to the first editorial surveys, it almost looks as if the Berliners will be well received with their new album, even with previous skeptics. In contrast to the first two Rammstein albums, 'Mutter' is much more mature and relaxed - even if the typical symbiosis of metal and industrial continues to roar through the speakers. Above all, the lyrics are no longer trimmed exclusively for aggression, but show the first signs of a new, more thoughtful approach to the topics dealt with, although dealing with love affairs can by no means be described as heart/pain/snooze songwriting.

Does the brute aggressiveness of the band, which was particularly noticeable on the debut album 'Herzeleid', give way to a new quality?

"We've just become more relaxed," says Paul. « We don't try to stay artificially evil or aggressive. Phase one is over. Back then we used to meet in the basement every day — it said 'No women!' on the door — and played 'Weißes Fleisch' for hours. (Almost all band members were left by their wives back then. Even tough men can suffer...) That was a kind of liberation. We were tough and we had fun. There's nothing worse for a band that wants to be heavy and evil than to succeed at it and become relaxed and friendly. But that doesn't really bother us. We want to develop further and do not mourn the passing of time. »

Why? After a ‘Herzeleid’ phase, suddenly being loved all over the world certainly doesn't make anyone really sad.

The further development of the band can especially be felt in Till's lyrics. Is that also an influence of success and the associated looseness?

« It's true that you don't write such nasty lyrics over a glass of red wine on the Baltic Sea as you do over a vodka in a Berlin cellar. But especially with the new disc it was more exhausting to reconcile our different ideas. It's still just the six of us who count for Rammstein's development — that's always been the case and will remain so — but of course you have in mind the millions of people who bought the first records. And finding that out is very difficult. »

Is there a clever game of shock behind Rammstein, or did the celebration of the negative feelings of the six fearless friends, who are pursuing a rigorous reckoning with the fun society, simply hit a nerve?

«Times have changed since the first Rammstein years. When we started, what we were doing was still pretty shocking and extreme. In the meantime we have long been overtaken — also by the media. The Beatles were extreme back then too, and now they're laughed at. That's how we see each other. In a few years people will smile at us - or they already do. What shocks today will only yawn tomorrow. But it can't be our job to just shock. We also play good music and we have an elaborate show. I don't think it works in the long run to just base your success on shocking. »

Within the team there are quite different views as far as artistic standards are concerned.

« Rammstein are a smear theatre, a good hard band, also a myth, sometimes hype and always something uncanny - I actually agree with everyone on that. Within the band there have always been different opinions on the self-image, but everyone was able to live out their vision. »

Thanks to the early discovery by Motor Music, the path through the underground was pure marching through, which also earned the boys the title "boy band". Although Rammstein might not have lasted long underground.

« On one thing we have always agreed: Rammstein were commercial from the start. We have never made a secret of the fact that we want to become rich and successful and conquer the world. Basically, entertainment is always business — only the sums involved are different. For example, Klaus Kinski has B. Once said: "I just want to make money, I don't care about the rest. » We're not that cool, but I'd like it if we were! »

Nowadays you can make money mainly with provocations, even if your own courage scares you.

« We chose our name back then to cause trouble. We wanted to provoke and cause stress. We knew that people died in Ramstein. But when we were confronted with the first journalists, we cheated a bit out of fear because we still had no idea how to deal with the press: "Ramstein? We don't know what happened there; we just thought the name was so brutal! » That was a hoax because we clearly wanted trouble with it. But is that so unusual in bands? Whether they are called Megadeth, Napalm Death or Silke Bischoff — music is also a bit provocative, otherwise it gets boring. »

But Rammstein don't want to know anything about blunt provocation at any price - even if the band was recently accused of it because of the controversial Reifenstahl sequences in the 'Stripped' video.

Paul seeks explanations for the allegations:

"I can't draw a swastika on my T-shirt and say: "That's a sign of the sun, it existed before Hitler. » The sign is so heavily loaded that it simply cannot be used anymore. This is the most extreme example. Like the swastika, there are many symbols, gestures and words that are also more or less burdened, but everyone has to decide the degree for themselves. If we now roll the 'r', then for one this is a means of expression to make our German singing more attractive. That's something really bad for others - but they have to figure it out for themselves. I can't ask people not to see that as dangerous. We decide for ourselves what we feel is feasible aesthetically and in terms of content.

Smart people have actually never had a problem with us. Usually only people who don't know us at all but think they have to judge us have problems. We've stopped trying to justify ourselves. If you want to find a hidden hint somewhere, you will find it and you won't let yourself be talked out of it. We also noticed that relaxed people who love life usually also like Rammstein. »

With their new piece 'Links 2 3 4', Rammstein want to make it clear once and for all to everyone else where their hearts beat. Here it says:

«You want my heart in the right place/but then I look down/then it beats to the left. »

However, the record company's release policy may be irritating. So 'Links' will not be released as a single in Germany, but in America. The fact that the lyrics are not or only rarely understood and thus false associations can only be dismissed as unintentional if you are really well-disposed towards the band and know that single releases are subject to label decisions. Finally, the piece comes along in the most beautiful marching music underlaid with Rammstein riffs.

« The song is a unit in which the text and, of course, understanding it are very important. I can understand that you find it a bit extreme if you don't understand the lyrics. The song is also intended more for our home country, where we actually have the most stress. »

Keyword stress: Was the tour through America also an escape from the problems here, and the success there a kind of revenge?

« We were a bit snapped at first because we always get shitted on here; especially from journalists who have never seen us. Just as Harald Juhnke is for the drunkards, we are always the stupid, naive right-wingers. But we didn't leave out of defiance, but because the records were suddenly selling everywhere and tours became important as a result. I don't think that a band in Germany automatically has a better standing if it's successful in America. Maybe that upsets the journalists a bit, who up until now have condemned us for what we've done. Journalists are always jealous. »

How do Rammstein explain their success in America? Does "brutal Teutonic rock" — whatever that is supposed to be — evoke a comforting "Hitler, the German Freddy Krüger" - creepy feeling in US citizens who are not so well versed in European history?

« When someone writes 'Teutonic', they probably mean 'German', maybe also 'TOO German'. In principle they are right. ‘Being German’ is a bit brute. Germans are not so delicate. As for the secret of our success in America, I'm not sure. Is there a danger that we come across as too German abroad? I noticed that our fans abroad are happy that we are German. I know that in America Hitler is not considered so bad. But we're too close here to allow ourselves to think. Actually, the reaction abroad is always: "Finally something good from Germany. Nothing has happened since the power station! » »

So Rammstein are THE export hit and the first new beginning of a German culture after reunification, which is well received abroad. Will this type of culture determine future schemes for success?

« We don't really think that far. I know that the view of being German will definitely change. If you think about it for a bit, that's not too bad. Of course I'm ashamed of the Germans who committed these crimes back then, but personally I can't help it anymore. We are trying to find a natural way of dealing with our past and a sensible way of dealing with this country—no more, no less. What always helps is to go abroad and live there for a year - then you don't find everything that bad and Germany rather cute. Our qualities are recognized there, even if they are sometimes smiled at. »

Rammstein are also often smiled at in their own country. A difficult fate for a tough band with a brutal stage show?

« Who wants to be found ridiculous? On the other hand, maybe we shouldn't always be taken so seriously..."

[leolingo]

ok i could just be spouting bullshit. but as someone that also loves ElQ but doesn’t like Doied- 

i think the main difference between them that makes one really appealing and the other boring (at least to me, cuz clearly a lot of people like him) is that ElQ has a (semi) established motive and personality. there’s a lot left up to the audiences imagination, but there’s still enough there for him to believably exist as a compelling character.

doied on the other hand.. doesn’t really have a motive? i could be completely wrong. i’m not fluent in spanish so i could have fully missed something in either one of the cintas- (especially with the heavy accent cc!roier puts on for doied) but it doesn’t appear that doied has any actual goal in swapping bodies with roier. which makes his existence as a character.. boring. just why.

but even besides that the thing that really gets me is that he doesn’t have a personality that separates him from qroier. yes, he’s acting like qroier so that he can effectively disguise himself as him. but that also works against him.. if there’s no major separation between qroier and doied in terms of personality then there’s nothing separating one from the other in my brain. to me they almost of exist as one entity. unless im constantly reminding myself that its doied that we’re watching, not qroier, then im not gonna be able to tell them apart at all. 

qq and elq- there’s a major disparity between them in terms of personality. to me qq comes off as being very jaded, he’s a chaotic but very caring individual who loves his friends and family. elq comes off as being very emotionally detached, vengeful, bitter, and snarky. their separation from one another allows them to exist as separate characters.

idk that’s my rant, sorry if i’m just like. blatantly wrong LOL. but ive been holding this in for months and Had to tell someone 

no i think youre RIGHT. i agree with most of it

i think a big reason why i cant like doied is precisely BECAUSE elq already exists like the setups are very similar but elq’s existence just currently has more depth and so its just really hard for me to care about doied at all

im pretty sure doied’s motives revolve around wanting to meet other people and see the world because he never got the chance to inside federation facilities (he said that directly or implied it during one of the cintas but also spanish is my third language and im not 100% fluent so i could be misremembering) but that doesn’t really stand on its own like OKAY but why does he exist? what is his role inside of the federation and why is he allowed to openly pursue a goal that seems to be completely personal? elq was sneaking around back when he was doing things out of personal interest and it culminated in him ultimately crossing the fed and being accused of treason. i just dont like how inconsequential doied’s plotline is so far and the way it doesn’t seem to tie into ANYTHING

i agree about doied’s personality and how we haven’t seen much of him as himself to really set him apart from roier. i guess that can be explained by the implication that doied had been watching roier for a looooong time and knows how to play him perfectly, whereas elq never did and always had his own personality show through even when he was supposed to be playing quackity. still, i just dont find it very interesting

ultimately to me doieds existence with little explanation just takes me to places i have NOOOOOOO interest in like because he’s there and cucurucho barely acknowledges him it forces me to think Oh then does EVERY islander have a clone? is everyone tied to the federation in the end? and i DONT like any of those paths. lol