#their dynamic isn’t easy to out a label on

[blaithnne]

Menaces when they team up. Need to find a dynamic name I can tag them with that doesn’t sound shippy. Does Kaisen work

[tongue-like-a-razor]

There Are Limits

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

Summary: Maverick's new female friend brings out your spiteful nature. And seeing you with a new man is harder on Maverick than he'd like to admit.

CW: age gap, student/instructor dynamic, swearing, drinking, and did someone say bring on the angst?? Because you know I can deliver..

WC: 4000+

This is Part 5 in the There Are Rules universe.

“Captain?”

Maverick looks up when you step into his office. He’s sitting on the edge of his desk and there’s a woman standing between his legs, so close, she might as well be in his lap. When you enter, she steps away half-heartedly, looking slightly annoyed that her conversation with Maverick has been cut short.

Maverick’s cheeky grin falters when he sees you, and he clears his throat as he hops off his desk.

“Lieutenant,” he says. “How can I help you?”

You stare at him in shock, not sure how to react. The last several weeks haven’t been easy; in fact, you and Maverick have barely spoken since your mutual decision to terminate your romantic relationship. But seeing him with another woman is a whole new level of difficult.

“Lieutenant?” he says, lifting his eyebrows worriedly. He doesn’t bother to introduce his companion, with whom he is obviously very familiar.

You swallow around the lump in your throat and exhale slowly. Maverick isn’t the only expert in self-regulation. It’s a skill that’s proven quite useful, if not invaluable, during your tenure in the navy. And, although it’s always come naturally to you, recent events have seen that you receive plenty of practice. “Sir,” you say promptly, saluting Maverick in an entirely professional manner, as if you’ve never even had his tongue down your throat. “It’s about next week’s squadron dinner,” you say.

It's true that you meant to speak about the dinner – about how you were planning on skipping it to avoid an ever vigilant Cyclone who's been watching both you and Maverick like a hawk. Moreover, the less you see of Maverick these days, the better.

But the scene before you has severely shifted the trajectory of your plans. And the next thing that comes out of your mouth is hideously unrehearsed. “I was wondering if we were allowed a plus one,” you blurt out, your eyes darting pointedly between Maverick and his female friend.

Maverick stares at you mutely, as though it’s taking him a minute to process your request. “You want to bring a date?” he then asks, his eyes widening and subsequently narrowing in a matter of milliseconds.

You feel like you might sweat right through your uniform with the way he’s staring you down, but you stand your ground defiantly. “If I may,” you respond unemotionally; the way you’d address any other superior.

Maverick nods slowly, glancing at the woman who’s currently rifling through some papers on his desk. You ignore how comfortable she seems in his office, like she’s been here plenty of times before. “I don’t see that being a problem,” he says. “Who’s the lucky…?” His voice trails off and he lets out a nervous laugh. “Should be fun,” he finishes, giving you a wide, artificial-looking grin.

You smile back at him. “I agree.”

…

“Boyfriend,” Maverick says, his eyebrows shooting upward for a moment before he checks himself and pulls at the collar of his jacket as if it’s suddenly an uncomfortable fit.

You try not to acknowledge his reaction and instead introduce your date to some of your squadron mates. You’re not sure why Sam has decided to put a label on your relationship at this exact moment, but you’re not going to argue semantics in front of the one person you wouldn’t mind buying into this spectacle.

“It’s new,” you hear Sam blurt out, presumably cowering under the scrutiny of Maverick’s gaze.

You make a point not to look Maverick in the eye because you’re still upset about walking in on him last week when he was clearly otherwise engaged. But when Sam walks ahead, busy conversing with the other aviators, you feel a finger brush gently over the back of your hand. You pull both hands behind your back and square your shoulders to face your instructor.

Maverick is watching you solemnly. “This is good,” he whispers, although the tilt of his eyebrows says otherwise.

You can’t express how much it hurts to hear him referring to this situation as good, and yet, you nod, grinning rigidly. “It is,” you say, pausing to give him an opportunity to come clean about his own blossoming relationship.

But Maverick does nothing of the sort. Maverick is as unreadable as ever.

You’re about to walk away when the woman you’d seen in Maverick’s office appears from behind him. She nudges him on the shoulder to get his attention and shoots him a brilliant smile.

Maverick gives her a polite nod before turning back to you. “Lieutenant,” he says. “I’d like to introduce you to an old friend of mine.”

The woman beams at you and holds out her hand. “I’m Charlie,” she says.

You shake her hand and return her smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Charlie,” you say. “Are you an instructor at Top Gun as well?”

She chuckles, throwing Maverick a flirty glance. “Not for a while,” she responds, looking back at you. “Not since this one made me rethink that particular career choice.”

Maverick drops his head with a laugh. “Sorry about that, by the way,” he says.

Charlie shakes her head. “Don’t be,” she replies. “It all worked out.”

Maverick nods, looking at her affectionately. “Charlie went on to bigger and better things. And by bigger, I mean she went on to design rockets.”

“Wow,” you say, both impressed and jealous of the woman who seems to hold a special place in Maverick’s heart.

“And look at how far you’ve come,” Charlie says to Maverick.

Maverick grimaces. “I’m right back where I started,” he remarks. “Full circle.”

“You’re right back where you’re meant to be,” she says earnestly. “And I’m proud of you.”

Maverick shifts his weight uncomfortably, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans. “We better grab a seat before Cyclone has an aneurysm,” he says.

You turn to see Cyclone watching the three of you with an irked expression from the table reserved for your group at the restaurant. He shakes his head ominously as you make your way toward the others. When the three of you arrive at the table, he mutters, “How gracious of you to join us.”

Maverick glances at him with a slight smirk but doesn’t say a word while Charlie lets out a small chuckle, taking her place beside Maverick at the table.

You lower yourself into the seat next to Sam, right across from Maverick and Charlie. Cyclone is sitting to Maverick’s right, aggressively perusing the menu.

“I hear the fish tacos are good here,” Maverick notes when Cyclone lays his menu down on the table in frustration.

Cyclone gives him a sour look. “Not a fish person,” he responds tartly.

You stifle a laugh, exchanging glances with Charlie, who is also snickering.

“There are non-fish tacos as well,” Maverick points out.

Cyclone nods grumpily. “Yes, I saw the entire section devoted to the various tacos they serve. I can read.”

Maverick bites the side of his lip to contain a grin. “Enchiladas,” he continues quietly, as if to himself. “Quesadillas, chiles rellenos…”

“I want a burger,” Cyclone declares, flipping through the menu anew.

Maverick shoots you an amused glance. “Let’s start with drinks,” he suggests, sliding a draft beer menu in front of his superior.

“Good idea.” Cyclone sighs theatrically, rolling his shoulders to loosen some tension.

“Hey, d’you want to share a couple of dishes?” Sam offers, tapping you on the arm to get your attention.

You glance over at him quickly, having almost forgotten he was there. “Sure.” You nod enthusiastically, even though it’s the last thing you would ever think to do.

Once all the drinks and food arrive, and you and Sam awkwardly try to allocate your respective shares of the dinner, Charlie pipes in. “How long have you two been together?” she asks, gesturing at you and Sam.

“It’s new,” Sam, the self-proclaimed boyfriend who has yet to work up the nerve to even kiss you, reiterates quickly while you chew on a quesadilla.

You wipe your mouth with a napkin before confirming, “Not long.”

Maverick’s eyes rest on you for a split second before he returns his attention to the ceviche in his bowl.

Meanwhile, Cyclone regards you with a dubious expression. “Where did you meet?” he asks gruffly.

“Through some friends,” Sam responds excitedly, as though it’s the most fascinating fact of the evening.

You take another bite of quesadilla and avoid looking directly at any of the three people sitting before you.

But Maverick cuts the silence short. “Is it serious?” he asks, and both you and Cyclone shoot him threatening glances. Charlie looks up from her plate, trying to interpret yours and Cyclone’s abrupt reactions.

Sam, meanwhile, is smiling blissfully to himself as he pokes at the contents of his fajita before rolling it up. “I’d say it has some potential of getting there,” he says.

You nearly choke on a pepper upon seeing Maverick’s expression transform from mild amusement to unequivocal displeasure. His jaw muscles contract as he forcefully stabs at his dinner with a fork.

Sam clears his throat nervously and speaks in a noticeably higher pitch, “Of course, I can’t predict the future.”

You roll your eyes and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It’s none of his business, anyway,” you say.

To Maverick’s left, you see Charlie’s jaw drop slightly in her shock at your informal – bordering on impolite – addition to the conversation with your superior officer.

Cyclone chuckles quietly, finally appeased by your interaction with Maverick. “At last, something we can all agree on.”

Maverick smiles politely. “I was just making small talk,” he says, laying his fork down without finishing his meal.

Cyclone gives him a flat look and leans forward to address his friend. “Charlie, how long are you in town?”

While Charlie and Cyclone engage in conversation, Maverick catches your gaze inquisitively, as if he’s trying to figure you out. His eyes are so penetrating, you feel like he can see right through you. He must know that your relationship with Sam isn’t even close to being serious. He must know that you’re probably going to break it off that very evening. He must know you only brought him because you were hurt and you wanted to hurt him back. Because Maverick has reconnected with someone of significance and is involved in something meaningful.

You tear your gaze away from him irritably. You’re about done letting Maverick stir up your emotions without so much as saying a word. You’re about done caring for a man who’s done nothing but cause you pain.

You rise from your seat and excuse yourself, heading for the bathroom near the back of the restaurant. No sooner do you break through the door, than you collapse onto the nearest sink and break down. You don’t even care that your mascara is leaving streaks down your cheeks, or that the tears are clouding your vision. You don’t even care that your hands are gripping the basin so tightly that your fingers are cramping.

You glance up at your reflection in the mirror; pathetic. How did you let yourself fall this far? This hard? This fast? You run the tap and dab some cool water on your skin, patting at the trails of makeup that your crying spell has left behind.

You take a deep breath, staring at your glistening face with a scowl, preparing yourself for the remainder of the evening. But just as you make your way for the door, it opens, and Maverick enters.

You jerk back in surprise, despite his history of showing up in places he isn’t supposed to be.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You panic. He knows. He knows that you ran away to cry. And this makes you furious. “I’m fine,” you respond curtly. “You shouldn’t be in here,” you add, gesturing to the door behind him.

He pulls his eyebrows together like he isn’t quite convinced. “You’re not okay,” he says.

You grit your teeth in anger. He can’t just ignore you for weeks and then try to comfort you like he gives a shit about your feelings. “Why are you here, Maverick?”

Maverick presses his lips into a thin line and breathes out steadily. “I was worried about you.”

You scoff resentfully. “Don’t be.”

Maverick sighs and lowers his head. “I can’t help it.”

You attempt to keep your voice even despite all the shaking your body is doing. “You better go, Captain,” you say spitefully. “Before Cyclone finds us. Or Charlie.”

He watches you soberly. “You asked me to stay,” he reminds you.

You stare wistfully into his eyes. He’s right, of course. You’re the reason he’s still here. Your relationship with him has been strained but civil since the incident on the carrier. There has been a mutual effort to avoid unnecessary encounters, and an unspoken understanding that, while romance is out of the question, it will take some time for both of you to move on completely. Obviously, you did not expect him to move on by moving in on someone new. Or old, in the case of Charlie, because the two of them go way back, apparently.

You struggle to remember why you’d wanted this – wanted him to stay despite knowing that nothing would ever come of it. In the moment, you were desperate not to lose him. But watching him carry on as though nothing ever happened between the two of you is absolute torture. You’d rather not witness just how little you actually meant to him.

You shrug. “Error in judgement, I guess,” you respond coldly, echoing his words from the night Cyclone had caught the two of you in the parking lot of the Hard Deck.

Maverick nods. “Been there,” he says pensively before turning to walk out. Just before he does, however, he glances back at you and adds, “I’ll wait out here until you’re ready.”

“Don’t,” you say.

Maverick meets your gaze with a weary look. “I’m not leaving.”

“What’s Cyclone going to think when the two of us come back together from the bathroom?”

Maverick shrugs. “I have no control over what Cyclone thinks.”

“What’s Charlie going to think?”

Maverick pauses in the doorway. “What’s Sam going to think?”

You roll your eyes. “He won’t even notice.”

Maverick watches you quietly for a moment, then says. “I doubt that very much.”

You lick your lips as a fresh round of tears threatens to obscure your eyesight. The fact that Sam isn’t here to check on you but Maverick is has not escaped you. “Go, please,” you whisper.

Maverick wavers slightly on the spot and, after a brief interval, holds his hand out to you. You glance down at it hesitantly as your stomach flips violently at the though of touching him again. Clearly, you’re angry with him, but the part of you that loves him always wins.

Slowly, you step forward and place your hand in his. He pulls you in the moment you make contact, wrapping his arms around you as he releases the door to the bathroom. He lets his face drop, pressing his mouth to the top of your head.

After a prolonged – mostly silent – embrace, you detach yourself from his arms and give him a nod. “I’m ready,” you say.

Maverick nods back without a word and then opens the door for you.

…

It’s past midnight when you hear the knocking, followed by some irregular footsteps and a string of quiet – but still audible – curse words. After a moment of hesitation, you unlock the door.

“Captain?”

Maverick is standing in the corridor before you, although calling it ‘standing’ might be a bit of a stretch. He’s not exactly stable on his feet.

You glance up and down the hallway to make sure that no one has seen him. “What are you doing here?”

Maverick is watching you with a squared jaw, as though he means to keep the purpose of his visit to himself. He breathes his frustration out through his nose before veering right into the doorframe.

“Sir!” you exclaim, grabbing a hold of his arm like you might have any chance of keeping him upright were he to topple over.

“Sir?” he murmurs, and you could smell the liquor on his breath. He catches your gaze now that you’re closer and, in another moment, his eyes begin to slip down your face before they finally close. “I told you,” he says, his mouth twitching as he grimaces. He pushes past you into the room.

You quickly close the door behind him, hoping nobody heard the commotion. Praying he’ll have the sense to keep his voice down.

But Maverick, it seems, isn’t nearly as concerned as you are about disturbing your neighbors. He rounds on you with a resentful expression and shakes his head. “I knew this would happen.”

You blink at him in confusion. “What?” you say. “What happened?”

“You happened,” Maverick says defeatedly. He takes a step toward you, his eyes flitting between yours as if he’s checking to see if you can relate.

But it’s a weekday and you had just drifted off to sleep when he’d started drumming on your door, so you’re not exactly following. You furrow your eyebrows. “I happened to what?” you ask.

Maverick watches you miserably, taking a step back now, as though he can’t decide which is worse: being closer or farther away from the source of all his troubles. “You two make a fine pair,” he manages to say, but not without a break in his voice.

You purse your lips, looking away from him. You’re not going to comfort a man who’s standing in his own way. After all, it was his decision not to be with you. Besides, Maverick brought his own date to the dinner, so you aren’t feeling overly sympathetic.

Maverick tears his gaze away from you and smacks a hand over his face. “What am I doing here, Lieutenant?”

It’s a fair question, to be sure; one you wouldn’t mind knowing the answer to, yourself. But you’re more immediately concerned about the consequences of Maverick’s unsanctioned visit to your quarters than the reasons behind it. “Maverick, it’s the middle of the night,” you say, shocked at how firm you sound despite the tremor travelling through you.

Maverick’s eyebrows converge and he shifts his jaw as his eyes well up with tears. “Yeah,” he whispers, nodding slowly.

“And you’re drunk,” you add when he takes a step toward you again.

“I am,” he admits, still in a whisper.

You ignore the stutter of your heart as he nears. “You can’t be here,” you warn.

He watches you wretchedly, giving his head a subtle shake. “I can’t,” he agrees.

You can hardly breathe when he finally stops before you, his soft eyes trailing down your face. His hand is coasting up the side of your neck before you even know what’s happening, and by the time his fingertips are hovering at the nape of your neck, you’re so lost in his gaze, it’s a miracle you’re still standing. Unsurprisingly, you aren’t in the state of mind to respond.

“I lied,” he says with a slight rasp despite the effort he’s exerting to steady his voice. “I think he’s terrible for you.”

You blink at him, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“Sam,” he says. “He’s not the one.”

You pride yourself on your patience and understanding, even in trying circumstances; you’re not an unreasonable person by any means. But even you have limits. And, tonight, Maverick is testing every last one. “Are you the one?”

Maverick stares at you, his eyes swimming. Slowly, he shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”

You breathe out forcefully, astonished at his audacity. There is only so much you can let this man get away with. “Then, respectfully, shut the fuck up,” you hiss, pushing past him aggressively. You whip around sharply and point at the door. “Get out.”

…

The following afternoon in the briefing room, Maverick reviews the morning's flight footage with barely a look in your direction. He doesn’t even comment on the impulsive maneuver you pulled that left your partner confused and resulted in an uncoordinated hustle to regain momentum, costing your team valuable seconds that could have ended in tragedy were it a real dogfight.

Once the briefing is finished and the room begins to clear out, Maverick approaches your desk. “Can I have a minute, Lieutenant?” he asks in a subdued sort of tone.

You glance up at him grudgingly but don’t respond until the last of the pilots have left the room. “Is it about the Cobra Climb?” you ask monotonously.

“What?” He quirks his head in confusion before briefly closing his eyes and shaking his head. “No,” he says, and then adds, more emphatically, “No.” He lets out a heavy sigh and lifts a leg over the chair in front of your desk, sitting on it backwards to face you. “I want to apologize to you.”

You groan. “Not again.”

Maverick steals a glance at the door, ensuring that the two of you are still alone, and then he lays a hand over yours on the desk. “I’m sorry about last night. Showing up at your place – less than sober.” Maverick lowers his gaze with a disappointed frown. “I – I had no right. I have no right,” he says, looking back up at you. His eyes flit between yours imploringly, burdened with all the guilt he carries.

“Stop,” you say assertively, pulling your hand out from under his grasp. You can’t listen to another word. This entire relationship has been a series of failures in self-control, each one a ‘mistake’ in Maverick’s eyes for which he subsequently has taken full responsibility. You rise from your seat and gather your things mutely.

“Y/N,” he says hoarsely, standing up after you.

You shake your head. “I don’t need another apology, sir,” you say bitterly. “I just need some space.”

Maverick nods. “Of course,” he says. “And I’ve been denying you that – and I apologize –”

“I said, stop!” you exclaim, shooting him a threatening look.

Maverick trails you as you make your way to the door – the exact opposite of your request. You rush out of the briefing room, and he follows, not far behind. Thankfully, there’s no one in the hallway because he’s behaving irrationally, to say the least. He reaches for your arm and pulls you around to face him.

You gulp, staggering the moment you meet his gaze, the aching in his eyes undermining your determination.

“Let me finish,” he pleads in a whisper.

You exhale sharply. “Finish, then.”

Maverick slowly lets his hand fall away from your arm now that you’re no longer a flight risk and, this alone, hurts, because you want him to hold you forever. Even when you’re fuming, even when you’re yelling, even when you hate him.

“Seeing you,” he says slowly, evenly, as though he’s trying to compose himself as he’s talking. He takes a breath and tries again. “With another man –”

“Come on.” You scoff, even though your heart is already buzzing at the thrill of making Maverick jealous. “You can’t expect me to not date –”

“I don’t expect that,” he says. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

You think about the way you felt seeing him with Charlie and you’re instantly sorry for causing him that much pain, regardless of whether it was intentional or not.

“I was angry,” he says quietly. “At myself, mostly…” he trails off, moving his head to the side and lowering his gaze. “But also at you. And I blamed you for the way you make me feel.” He pulls his bottom lip under his teeth and grimaces. “But that’s not your fault,” he whispers shakily. “That’s on me.”

You bite into your lip to keep it steady. You wish you could look away because the devastation on his face is undoing you, but you aren’t strong enough. You take a step back and take a shuddering breath. “Please don’t look at me like that,” you say, your voice unsteady. You can barely get a grasp on his words because you’re too absorbed in his eyes.

Maverick’s eyebrows lift inward, as if your request has him concerned – or confused. “Like what?”

You roll your eyes – as if he doesn’t know like what. “Like that!” you respond as he takes a step toward you in alarm. “Just stop!” You sigh in frustration, unable to articulate your thoughts because his eyes are still commanding all of your attention.

“Where am I supposed to look?” he asks, agitated.

“It’s the way you’re looking at me,” you explain angrily.

“Are you listening to what I’m saying?” he asks urgently. “I need you to hear me.”

You shut your eyes and shake your head. “Enough, Maverick!” you exclaim.

Maverick stills immediately, watching you uneasily.

“You’ve been tiptoeing around me, treating me like I’m injured or in need of assistance –”

“I’m not –”

“You are and I’m tired of it. Why didn’t you call me out on the Cobra Climb?”

Maverick stares at you like you’re unhinged. “You want me to reprimand you?”

You let out a heavy sigh. “If you’re going to be my instructor – just my instructor – then instruct me. It was an idiot move and I shouldn’t have done it.”

“You were distracted –”

“You’re making excuses for me! Why?”

“Don’t question my teaching methods,” Maverick says in a low voice.

You scoff, shaking your head. “You’re afraid of confrontation so you’ve been avoiding me. You didn’t even think to give me a heads up about Charlie!”

Maverick narrows his eyes. “What about Charlie?”

“Whatever,” you grumble. “Just don’t stand here and proclaim that my bringing a date to the squadron dinner somehow threw you for a loop.”

Maverick studies you silently so you boldly meet his gaze. His jaw is set but there’s a tenderness in his eyes that nearly draws you in.

“Stop coddling me,” you say firmly.

You watch his Adam’s apple rise then fall as he gulps down whatever retort he decides to keep to himself. His jaw muscles contract once more as his eyes settle over your face.

You tear your gaze away. “And quit looking at me like you…” You sigh, unsure how to describe the inimitable combination of exasperation and affection you see in his eyes.

“Like what?” he asks, his voice rising in volume. You can tell that he’s becoming increasingly defensive as your blows continue.

You’re annoyed that he’s annoyed and you blurt the words out before you can stop yourself. “Like you’re in love with me or –”

“I CAN’T LOOK AT YOU ANY OTHER WAY!” he roars.

You freeze. Stunned by the volume of his voice. Stunned by the emphatic delivery. Stunned at his words.

He turns away in a huff, placing one hand on his hip while the other is balled up into a fist at his mouth.

“This was your idea,” you say quietly as he slowly turns back to look at you. You aren’t the one who refuses to even try, and he needs to acknowledge that.

“I know,” he whispers, his eyes brimming with tears.

You clench your teeth to keep your mouth from trembling. “Then stop,” you implore.

He shakes his head, pulling his lips into a rigid line. “I don’t know how.”

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[hannie-dul-set]

heartbeat conquest — day 2.

SYNOPSIS. you’re sucked into a reverse harem otome game, and there’s only one goal— say the right things to conquer as many pretty boys as you can. PAIRINGS. tomorrow x together x reader. TAGS. social media! au, modern fantasy, reverse harem (of fucking course), romance, humor, a whole bunch of weird dynamics maybe HUAHAHAHAHAHHAAH. inspired by the manhwa with the same title, “heartbeat conquest.”

considering the less than bare minimum amount of information you have on your targets, it wasn’t easy to come up with a decision.

of the five, you have managed to unlock three. sanctuary is choi beomgyu. you have no idea why that’s his nickname when the first thing he does is boss you around. his interest is evident in his 0% conquest rate (for now). from what you can surmise based on the description the system gave you— him being an arrogant and egotistical fuck— you believe you might do yourself and him a favor by humbling him a little. in short, you’re not showing up.

another contradictory nickname to the interaction is savior— kang taehyun. now, what is up with this guy? 

admittedly, you might have slipped up, not catching onto the passive-aggression of his first text, but you were going off of no context, so forming a positive response would have been close to impossible. still, from what you know so far, it would be difficult to figure out what exactly is on saturday. hence, it would be difficult to prepare for.

now lover is an interesting guy. choi yeonjun. he texts you that he misses you and is shocked when you respond because…he thought you blocked him? is your ex? a player? he seems to be an attention-seeker, and you have an inkling that making him want your attention would be the best move. therefore, you’re not seeing him this saturday. it seems like he and beomgyu also know each other. picking one over the other might cause some conflicts.

that leaves two targets that have yet to be unlocked: angel and knight.

both appear to be your typical sweet, polite, soft boy love interests from a shoujo manga.yet that’s all you’re working with for now. it would be best to pick one of them. just to dig in deeper and find out more.

though, you’re meeting choi soobin at two in the afternoon, you’re already out and about by 10:00 a.m.

first, to get yourself familiar with the environment, of course. you had the idea that this is some preppy private university, but the scale of TSC is just atrociously large. there are facilities for almost everything, training grounds for every single field and specialization. how you managed to find your way to EB 201 was a revelation.

turns out you— or the character you’re playing— is quite well-known around campus. as a transferee who got admitted late into your second year of university, your talent having been discovered late.

“it’s the first room up the stairs,” jaeyun tells you, one of the students you’d just asked around for directions. he’s bright and smiley and, quite frankly, very good looking that you almost mistook him for a love interest or target. but all your targets so far seem to have known you. and when you tapped on jaeyun’s shoulder thirty minutes ago, armed with a smile and prettily batting eyes, he seemed to be taken and taken off guard right off the bat, and asked for your name and major. “or...or would you like me to accompany you upstairs? let me carry your bag for you!”

the otome effect is quite impressive. “it’s alright,” you smile at him. jaeyun droops and his energy deflates. “i can take it from here. thank you!”

since he isn’t any of your targets, you feel no remorse leaving him behind while you climb up the stairs, shoulder in bag in tow. and just as jaeyun says, you’re met with the door labeled 201. a beat of hesitation creeps up on you. but there seems to be no other options than to just knock and follow your target’s instructions.

so, you do. your knuckles hit the wooden door. once. twice. three times. knock, knock, knock.

a click and a creak. the door opens to another good looking guy. “hi! sorry to interrupt. is choi soobin around?” but he isn’t the one you’re looking for.

in fact, the one you’re looking for is very easy to find. because even when you take a peek into the room and are met with around six, seven other men, your eyes immediately land on choi soobin.

how? 

because he’s the only one with a big purple heart floating right above his head, with a bright and shining 0% right inside it.

“soobin!” the doorman hollers out with a huge grin. “a girl is looking for you!” choi soobin need not that signal to notice you, because he already has, from the moment he caught your eyes, and you greet him with a smile and  wave. you notice a few of the other guys staring and getting flustered a bit, wavering to bump their shoulders and elbow at your target, coughing inaudible whatevers, yet the percentage on choi soobin’s head refuses to waver, even with the faint pink brushing his cheeks, the shaking of his head when he mumbles something inaudible to his friends.

of course, this game wouldn’t give you the grace of an easy difficulty. looks like this guy is deeper than he appears.

“quit it,” you hear him laugh off before jumping to his feet, getting off from his seat. “you’re giving everyone the wrong idea.” 

“i’m sure we all have a pretty good idea of what’s going on here.”

“later, dude! have fun with your assignment.”

his friends’ insinuating remarks aside, you can’t help notice that despite choi soobin’s apparent easygoing air, with each step that he takes to approach you, you can sense his ease slowly disappearing, melting into a jittery nervousness that’s masked by that same charming, boyish smile you saw on his photo.

“did you wait long?” he says, standing right before you now, giving you the privilege to bask in the perfection that the system described. it almost made you miss the hard swallow he forces in— right in the second before he takes away the weight of your bag from you. “sorry about that. i should’ve waited outside.”

“oooh! choi soobin, quit flaunting your moves!”

choi soobin shushes them. you use it as a chance to get a better look inside the classroom. “not at all,” you reply, and it doesn’t appear as though they were just conducting a meeting. why is he saying that he should’ve waited outside when he instructed you to knock and ask for him? “let’s go?”

he looks at you, smiling ever so perfectly. “sure.”

now, in order to avoid any massive fuck-ups, you made sure to look through all the shit in your dorm room earlier. anything that can provide some hints and contexts of this damned gamed that you got sucked into. you discovered that you were majoring in international relations. you discovered that your class with choi soobin is a just a simple elective on organizational communication, and all there is to your paired assignment is to write a report on max weber and henri fayol’s bureaucratic theory and scientific management, and would take an hour maximum to do so you don’t get why choi soobin was making such a big deal out of it.

he’s hard to understand, that’s for sure. you don’t get what his motives are. especially when he’s pulling out all the fucking stops by opening the large, library door before you could even more your arm an inch, by dragging your chair out for you before you could even reach out for it. “do you want to rest for a but? i’ll cover the sunlight for you,” he says, when he can just pull down the blinds because he led you to the tables next to the window because “the view is pretty here,” he says. and when you suggest to transfer to a less crowded spot because people started pouring in at two-thirty, he strongly went against it.

“it—it isn’t that crowded yet,” cho soobin argued. “do you mind if we transfer a little later?”

how odd. what’s even more odd is despite all of his explicit acts of interest—

“what’s— what’s wrong? is there something in my hair?”

why is that floating thing above his head still at zero?

“nothing,” you hum in response, smiling. choi soobin looks mortified at the prospect of something unbelonging in his hair that he whips out a hand mirror. “will you excuse me for a bit?”

he settles down the mirror, a hesitant hand lowering down to the desk. “o—oh. yeah, sure,” he responds. “will you take long?”

“would it be a problem if i will?” you bounce back. he shakes his head and tells you to go ahead, carry on, attempting to reshape his distraughtness with a practiced smile of ease.

hints? progress? what? you can’t dwell on the sudden updates from this damned system, because when you look up from your phone, you see soobin surrounded by a lot of people. different people. not the same ones you saw from the classroom earlier. “you ditched hanging out with us to work on an assignment?” one of them says, jokingly. soobin denies it with a laugh. “aren’t you working on that new pretty transferee from IR? did she ditch you too?” another one raises. well, you already know that the premise of this game has your name floating around and about. it feels weird to hear it upfront, though.

“haha, no, she just left to answer some texts.”

soobin’s defense sounds weak. he’s brushing them off with the same easygoing attitude. “you really went for it, huh?” one of them hums, nudging him. maybe this is your cue to interrupt. “i told you you two would look together! didn’t i?”

ah. it definitely is your cue to interrupt.

“soobin?”

ding!

“should we get back to work?”

the moment you step in, you see it— that mocking percentage flickering from zero to one. 

1%. huh.

that’s interesting. 

“yeah. good timing.”

choi soobin looks at you with an expression that you can only describe as gratefulness.

“sorry, guys! we still have a lot of work to do.”

this is interesting, indeed. you’re surrounded by a bunch of expectant eyes of bystanders left and right, like they’re watching a movie right before their eyes— and you and choi soobin are the main leads. this is quite the situation. and your co-star appears to be both nervous and relieved: relieved that you showed up, nervous while waiting for you to react or respond.

now, how should you deal with this situation? and how do you settle the other four you just ignored?

NOTE. the questions are a bit abstract this time HUAHAHAHAHHA hopefully they aren’t too difficult to answer 😭 i personally hate the limited response choices in otome games bcs most of the time, i won’t act or say in ways that are readily provided. i hope ur all the same as me so u can enjoy this game too 😞😞😞

also, i’ve received feedback that they’d like their actual names to be put instead of the nicknames, and dw!! i will change it to their real names once all of them have been unlocked HAHAHAH.

as usual, answer the form linked above to progress the story. i will close the form once i’ve reached a consensus in the responses. hope you’re all still having fun!! thank you for joining in!!

DAY 1 | DAY 2 | DAY 3 (LOCKED) . . .

heartbeat conquest. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[zoetropist]

okay so like i know this isn’t. a big issue. but my favorite thing is making mountains out of molehills so.

we know that minyeon isn’t incest… right? we know this? it’s important to me that we know this.

like yeah ofc samin is “technically” min’s adoptive mother or sister or whatever. but, it’s more of a manipulation tactic rather than an objective truth. take a traumatized 9 year old and love bomb them with promises of family to make them your child soldier, hey, it works out great. but isn’t the point of 78 that samin doesn’t actually see him as a son? he’s just her tool. “samin calls them a family” but yall ship samin and pink just fine ? lmfao. it’s not a family she’s just a manipulator <3

there’s no one in this world samin loves more than sayeon, and i think the hidden part of that statement is there’s no one samin loves other than sayeon. the crimson society are nowhere near her family. we see how she actually treats people she considers her family. that’s not them. samin doesn’t see min as a relative in any form, point blank period.

min on the other hand, seems to love samin in some way. lovebombing does wonders on the prepubescent mind! it’s not entirely clear, but if min still has the capacity to love, he would love samin. she’s his savior and he would do anything for her, even babysit her ungrateful kid sister. but that love doesn’t extend to sayeon?? at all??

once again, not entirely clear how he feels for sayeon but he holds a lot of resentment towards her. he doesn’t even like her, why would he ever see her as a sister? his love for samin is only for samin, the person who gave him a life. sayeon is the antithesis of that love. she has what he wants and she throws it away like it’s easy to take for granted. in what world does that translate to “he sees sayeon as a sister”. lol, what.

and sayeon is, sayeon. she has zero idea about any of the dynamics going in between min and samin. like hello??:?/)$:/ she knows nothing, min is not her adopted brother, step brother, god brother, found brother, idk man. whatever you want to call it, that’s not how she sees him. using min as a tool seems to run in the family lmfaooo that is the extent of any familial relation between min and sayeon

so for the last time, it’s not incest?:)/),&: i should know what incest is i’ve sadly suffered through oshi no ko. the only way it could ever be “incest” is if min considered sayeon his sister. he doesn’t. he literally just stopped seeing sayeon as his opp; she is NOT the homie, let alone familial.

i dont ship minyeon in the slightest but i get really irked when people label ships as problematic just as an excuse not to like it. you can just. not like it. and you can just say that you don’t like it. no one is gonna jump you bro!

[sleepingdeath-light]

yandere hcs + s/o who is okay with his behaviour hcs ; emmet

requested by ; anonymous (17/07/23)

fandom(s) ; pokèmon

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; emmet

outline ; “I NEED YANDERE EMMET PLEASE RAAAAGH!!! 😭‼️ (and an s/o who’s ok with it because they take it as “awwww he loves me” but they don’t understand that this man is at “I’d kill Arceus for you” levels of love 😂)”

note ; this isn’t as overtly yandere as some of my other posts, but i can’t see emmet going the whole way and slaughtering people for his s/o so much as he just gets a bit obsessive over them (also i haven’t written for him in a while so apologies if this is a bit shaky lol)

warning(s) ; yandere!emmet, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, unhealthy dynamic

emmet had always been a peculiar character in your eyes, even before the two of you became an item, so you never really thought to question some of his more outlandish behaviours when it came to your relationship

his possessive streak and obsession with you were, to you at least, as normal as his unwavering grin or his repetition of ‘i am emmet’ whenever he was speaking to someone — they were just another part of him that you accepted as any loving partner would

(it’s also not the most obvious to others unless they know him extremely well, such as his brother or their mutual best friend, and even then he typically just dismisses their concerns and goes back to being his energetic, ever-smiling set without ever really addressing how different he gets around you)

he still talks about you as his partner to anyone who will listen — and even to those who are very obviously not paying any attention to a word he’s saying — but his remarks take on a much darker and more possessive, even obsessive, tone that’s easy to miss if you don’t pay him much mind during battles

for example, he’s made a great many remarks to other trainers about how he’d do anything to keep you safe and by his side — remarks which include him being more than willing to battle, or even outright kill if it came down to that, any legendary (even arceus himself!) that came between the two of you

(a couple of trainers that managed to see the disturbing genuineness underpinning those statements have gone out of their way to find and warn you about your boyfriend’s obsession, but ended up being even more put-off by your response to their worries — that being anything ranging from neutrality, acceptance, or endearment at his ‘love’ for you)

although he’s still as passionate about trains and pokémon as ever, you’ll find him much less likely to talk about himself with you in favour of just sitting and listening to everything you have to say as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world (even if it’s something as objectively mundane as talking about what you almost had for lunch a few days ago) — he’ll interject every now and then with encouragement and questions that range from cute to concerning (e.g. ‘i am emmet. what did you do after that? i am emmet.’ or ‘i am emmet. that sounds very frustrating. would you like me to talk to them for you? i am emmet.’), but still it’s incredibly rare that you’ll get to hear about his day once his obsession with you has truly taken hold

he only ever addresses you by name or as his spouse (husband/wife/partner/whatever your label of choice is) even though you’re not actually married — legal distinctions don’t matter to him and he already knows that you’re the love of his life so he sees no point in waiting for some ceremony to show you off as ‘his’ to the world

before his obsession set in he was already very comfortable with public shows of affection and wasn’t ever embarrassed to do things like link arms with you, peck you on the cheek/lips, or anything else like that around others unless he was actively engaged in a pokémon battle — but now it’s like he’s gone from an eight to an eleven and you’ll never go long, when you’re around him at least, without him touching you in some way

an arm around your waist, pulling you against his side or chest, linking your arms, holding your hand so tightly you fear it may just break, peppering your face with kisses, etc. — all of those displays are common place for the two of you, and he’s even happier when you’re the one initiating and reciprocating (especially if you’re around others as it appeals to that possessive side of him that likes letting others know that you’re not just taken, but that you’re happily and eagerly taken by him, emmet, and nobody else)

he hasn’t yet been given a reason to kill someone for you, and in the moment he may not even go through with it, but he’s certainly offered to do so on multiple occasions whenever you mention someone annoying you, flirting with you, or otherwise making you uncomfortable — he’s also been known to go harsher on trainers that have shown interest in you in battle whenever you visit him at work (partly to show off to you and partly to put them in their place)

[lovewash3d-doll]

🎀How to Write Complex Characters🎀

………………………………………………………………………….

It’s very easy to get wrapped up in the plot and forget all about characters and their developments. Heroes can morph into perfect Mary Janes and villains can be simply labeled as pure evil and have no perspective in the story. Realistic characters elevate your story, engage your reader, and truly make your writing something worth caring about! Here are tips to help avoid those stereotypic characters and be more authentic in your writing!

1. The importance of character faults

There isn’t a single perfect person in this world; everyone has some kind of fault. Characters are meant to mimic humans and humans aren’t perfect whatsoever. As much as readers don’t like unlikeable characters, it’s hard to like and relate to a perfect one too. The kindest person can be overly envious of others and the bravest person can be brave for some morally grey reason. Negative character traits tend to stem from some inner struggle: a forgotten child may be afraid of being alone and constantly seek out and cling to others, or someone who’s been made to feel insecure may constantly compare themselves. A character doesn’t need a tragic backstory or traumatic occurrence to have a personal struggle!!! Everyone has some kind of complex! Different dynamics in their life, experiences, and social influences may have created it. It’s so important to showcase these traits and vulnerabilities within your story and scenes in which they are applicable. Revealing these negative traits is a great way to start character development.

2. For every good trait, there is a bad one.

“If you go too left, you go right” is an aphorism that even applies to making characters! A character can be a good leader, but they can also be overly controlling or too independent. A kind character can be overly selfless. A smart character can have bad social skills. Every positive personally trait can be inverted into some fault. Whenever I have too many positive traits attached to a character or am just starting developing one, I always make a T-chart. One column is for good traits and the other is for bad. For every good traits, I think of its extreme and fill in the chart to ensure there’s a balance of positives and negatives!

3. Let Your Character React

Sometimes as writers, we take too much liberty over our scenes and forget that for each occurrence, circumstance, or piece of dialogue, there is a reaction. These reactions and the actions and thoughts they manifest in drive your story. To make characters as authentic as possible, make sure to acknowledge the emotions that could occur in the scene. For example, if a character is embarrassed in a significant way, don’t simply describe their cheeks as resending. Do they later ruminate on the embarrassing moment as they walk home? Does it evoke or reinforce any previous thoughts? How would u truthfully react to a situation? My writing improved when I took that into consideration!

4. Incorporate Character Thoughts

Something that really changed the game for my characters is incorporating their thoughts— whether I narrate them or directly include them in italics with a “she thought…” dialogue tag. It simultaneously forces you consider your character perspective and reactions more! It’s very helpful to see into the mind of your characters! Here are some examples:

Alice sat at the kitchen table, chin pressed into her hand, wondering what she could possibly do. She was too afraid to follow the white rabbit down the spiraling hole— particularly in fear her governess would take notice— but the rabbit’s image had imprinted itself upon her mind so fiercely. Alice sighed as she aimlessly stirred her cup of tea: she see-sawed between decisions with each clank of the teacup.

“Whatever will I do!” Alice thought, sitting at the kitchen table, “I can’t possibly follow the rabbit down its hole, but I can’t seem to brush it from my mind…” She stirred her tea and sighed, “maybe I’ll follow it down the hole quickly and be back from lunch!— No Alice! You don’t know how deep that hole is. What if you’re stuck there forever!— Maybe I’ll bring a rope!— where will I even find one?!”

5. Distinct Dialogue

Another aspect of complex characters, is ensuring each one is distinct from the rest and that two characters don’t murk together! Each character should have a unique tone to their perspective and demeanor, and unique vocabulary and wording in their dialogue. Are some characters more pessimistic than others? What catchphrases do their have? Do they tend to copy what others say? Test your character’s distinctiveness by copy and pasting randomly selected dialogue (without their tag) and matching them to their speakers! This will ensure your characters are both memorable and unique, as every human is. People tend to use different sayings and approach situations in their own unique way, that’s been influenced by their own experiences and those around them. Characters can have their own attitudes toward topics, and may reply differently based on that. Doing so, you can show both a character’s personality and past!

please reblog!

XOXO,

lovewashed doll 🎀

[byoldervine]

If you're aroace, do you still write romance? If so, do you do it differently than allos do?

Tbh it’s made me very cautious of writing men and women because no matter what straight allos seem to think they’re flirting and would make a super cute couple. Back in my fic days that was often how I decided to have my characters date; I’d get loads of comments saying they couldn’t wait to see how X ship pans out when in reality it was just two friends having banter. And romance always seemed to be like a requirement in every story; if you don’t include at least a subplot where the main characters get together, what’s the point in creating them? Even if that mindset isn’t true

But just to show how my sexuality did indeed influence my writing - as well as my writing actually influencing my sexuality - I’ll give you guys an example:

I’ve mentioned it before but there was one character called Indigo who I wrote in an atrociously-written HTTYD fic on Wattpad back when I was like thirteen - all the comments were saying she was totally in love with another character, Plasma, and how they couldn’t wait to see her accept these feelings she has for him

Reminder; I had no intention of having them be in a relationship

But I decided to lean into it and explore why people perceived it this way, then used another character to be raising all the points. I did admit that, looking back as an older and more experienced writer, I did once or twice say things that implied more than intended because I didn’t fully understand the innuendo of them back then, but there was even some newer stuff that I just couldn’t figure out

So I tested my theories; I had the characters banter more, being very careful in that first chapter to keep it purely platonic, and people were going crazy about the flirting. So I figured if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em; I leaned into it, explored the idea of Indigo having feelings for Plasma. Let her get conflicted on it, let her vent that she had no idea what this kind of love feels like, just generally used it as an excuse to vent my own feelings on romantic love in general. I identified as bisexual at the time, but was starting to question things, so I just poured it out onto Indigo because it did work for her character and her general attitude to relationships of any form

Half the comments were about how they were worried about the ship and how Indigo had to realise her feelings soon - but the other half was people predicting that Indigo was aroace. I challenged my readers more directly to guess Indigo’s sexuality and asexual or aroace was the biggest guess. And so I leaned into it again and brought Indigo into what’s all but labelled as a QPR with Plasma, just to see how it goes, and in the meantime I was looking into asexuality. I think you can figure out how the latter went

But I guess what I learned from all of this when it comes to writing romance is that, at least for myself, it’s surprisingly easy to get people shipping them; have a guy and a girl banter. I’ll have to test in future if this works for visibly queer couples, but in general my go-to for flirting is just casual banter and so far it’s done the trick with my other old fics. I’m not flirting, I’m just sarcastic and British

What really scares me is writing sibling dynamics and other familial relationships because if I can make things flirty without even trying then how will this be perceived?

[cherriesfm]

[ … ] ❀ you’re not from around here , are you? i figured because you totally just missed ALEXANDRA "ALEX" PEREZ walking by. don’t tell me you don’t know who SHE/HER is ? they kind of look like ANA DE ARMAS and i could be wrong but i think that they might be THIRTY-FOUR years old right now. they’ve been living in palmview for the last THIRTY-FOUR YEARS. and i don’t know if anyone has ever told them this before but they kind of remind me of FIONA GALLAGHER from SHAMELESS. if you stick around the town long enough you might catch them in action working at SEAGLASS DANCE ACADEMY as a DANCE INSTRUCTOR. you see this town isn’t really that big of a place, some folks like to call them the ANCHOR of palmview! they took a liking to the name too after a while, go figure. oh crap, they must have heard me yapping. they’re coming this way. i got to warn you though, rumor has it they can pretty ANARCHIC at times. i wouldn’t take it too seriously though, from the times i’ve spoken to them they seemed pretty FERVENT to me. we see each other all the time since they live in that THREE BEDROOM apartment beside me over in OCEAN'S EDGE. i better leave you to it. it was nice meeting you!

musings. pinterest.

୨୧ STATS

full name: alexandra perez.

age: thirty-four.

gender & pronouns: cisfemale. she/her.

sexuality: pansexual.

occupation: dance instructor @ seaglass dance academy.

label: the anchor.

counterpart: fiona gallagher / shameless.

୨୧ BACKSTORY

tw: alcoholism, addiction, neglect.

alexandra perez displayed a talent in ballet from a very early age, showing extreme discipline and grace. when the world got too loud, she knew she could tune it all out at dance class.

growing up the oldest perez sibling, it wasn't always easy to just disappear. there were a lot of expectations to set a good example for her siblings.

it became significantly harder when at the age of 17, her mother walked out on them, leaving a heartbroken father and five children walking on eggshells around him, trying to navigate the new family dynamic without the one person who held them together most of the time.

at first, it was him just leaving the house at odd hours of the night, then it was whenever he was faced with the task of actually being a parent. then it took a complete turn for the worse by alex's 18th birthday.

by then, her father had become entirely consumed with his addiction, neglecting his duties as the head of the house and leaving alex to deal with the aftermath. her celebration for earning a scholarship at the dance academy of her dreams was cut short when she realized her siblings needed her more.

it was then that alex picked up whatever jobs she could find to keep food on the table, put her siblings through school and juggle all the responsibilities of managing the perez household. everything became about them, her entire life taking a backseat.

her parents will often times try to come back or repair what they broke but alex doesn't trust them anymore. she has deep love for them but she's also very heartbroken because of what they put her through.

her love life is literally not even on her mind, she always thinks of her siblings first and often puts them before any relationship.

currently works as a dance instructor because it's the closest she can get to dance again but it also hurts because it reminds her of what could've been if her parents just had their shit together.

୨୧ PERSONALITY

puts literally everyone else first

short tempered but only because she's very stressed all the time

is constantly torn between finally letting herself live her life and still taking care of her siblings

very impulsive sometimes

leave before you get left type of person

୨୧ WANTED CONNECTIONS

ride or die

childhood friends

one night stands / exes she left for her family

fwbs/situationships

high school sweetheart

childhood crush

[a-couple-of-notes]

trick or treat!

Ah! Hi! I got one!

The prompt list was super non-specific when I reblogged it, so that's on me. I'm currently percolating on a missing scene fic for Episode 9 of AAA (that conversation between Rio and Agatha I so dearly, dearly wanted) but since, like any good writer, I have not put a single word to paper--have some Stray Gods instead!

When we did the holiday exchange (10 months ago now? holy hell), I ended up writing an extremely long hidden identity tutoring fic. But before that, I started drafting a Grace & Athena fic where they team up to bust Medusa out of U.S. military experimentation. It would have come complete with trauma, a very Kickass Grace, and some twisty Athena and Medusa dynamics. Eventually, I decided the scope of that fic wouldn't work for the holiday exchange, so I put it aside.

---

In all fairness, Grace knows as soon as she gets home that it’s going to be a weird day.

Freddie and Pan have draped themselves across the couch, bickering, squashing Apollo and Hermes unceremoniously into the remaining half a seat. Oracle is frantically digging through their drawers for...something? (And wow, she’d forgotten she had that poster.) Even Persephone has made an appearance, leaning casually against the wall as though she’s above all of this.

“How come you don’t have an Ethernet cable?” Oracle whines. “I mean, I get Paul, but—”

Freddie stops side-eyeing Pan for a moment to answer her: “Uh, we totally have an Ethernet cable! It’s just that we also have a thousand other cables covering it.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Hey!” Freddie yelps, twists around on the couch, and finally spots Grace standing in the doorway. One uncoordinated scramble later—Grace loves her dearly, and breathes a quick sigh of relief that their coffee table is so damn sturdy—she’s standing in front of Grace, practically vibrating with news.

Grace smiles wryly and kicks off her boots. “I guess you’re gonna tell me why all of these guys are at our apartment again?”

Freddie matches her smile, lets it soften her excitable energy. “It’s, uh. Bad.”

Well, there go her hopes of something easy: a cool rock star suddenly discovering Idol powers, or old friends coming out of hiding, or hey, somebody’s birthday. But those hopes had never really been high to begin with. Even with everyone moving past old trauma, working their way toward becoming better, happier people, the fact that all of them got it together enough to visit has Grace’s nerves tingling. 

She closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Please tell me it’s not another murder.”

Freddie chuffs softly, taps the back of her hand like they’re still in school and Grace isn’t paying attention. “You look like our English teacher in seventh grade,” she says, just as Persephone raises her head from the wall and cuts in, “It might be simpler if it were a murder.”

“So violent,” says Pan. “I happen to think the complications make it rather delicious myself.”

“I happen to think you should put labels on all these stupid cables!!”

Grace is about to tell them all where she happens to think she should put her fist—mortality be damned—when Apollo looks up sheepishly from the couch. He still hasn’t moved, since Hermes has fully decided to use his shoulder as a pillow. Under any other circumstance, Grace would find their cuddling adorable. “It’s not a murder,” he says. “I—apologize for barging in like this. It’s not a murder, but it is a bit of an emergency.”

“It’s Medusa,” says Persephone, and a solemn energy falls over the room. Grace senses it even without the Muse powers that had once lit up her chest: the unease, the sorrow. It pings something inside her, like a tuning fork struck against the core of her.

“Tell me what’s going on,” she says firmly.

[bullet-prooflove]

Love Me Or Leave Me - Michael 'Riz' Ariza x Reader

Tagging: @anime-weeb-4-life, @danzer8705 @mysoulisasunflower @vannabanana1995 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @sxmmarie @xmoonknightlyx @camelia35 @queeniesdiary

Riz is beautiful, dynamic, adventurous, everything you have ever wanted in a man. He’s easy going, laid back and he deserves the fucking world. He deserves better than you, better than a girl who’s struggling to make ends meet with two jobs and part time gigging, one with an ex-husband whose refusing a divorce and is dragging out every single detail of their relationship through the courts. He deserves something free and easy, someone that doesn’t come with the complications that you do.

That girl he’s with, the one at the bar who leans in close with her tits on display, you know her. It’s Lola, one of the sex workers from Vicki’s, she’s beautiful and fierce, she knows what she wants and how to please a man. You don’t stand a chance. So, you bow out because what is the fucking point.

You don’t tell him that your leaving, you simply pack your guitar away in the storeroom that Patrick let’s you store it in and slip out the back door. You don’t want the drama, the explanations, you know the two of them have been together before, you can see it in the way Lola looks at him, the way she touches him.

On the drive home you think of the two of them, lipstick staining his mouth as he fucks her in the bathroom. Him wrapped up in her sheets as she rides him, part of you is angry at yourself for not staking a claim, for not making a point of showing how you feel but that’s the problem isn’t it? You can’t tell Riz how you feel, you try to show him but there’s power in words. You know that.

This thing between the two of you has never had a label. You didn’t want one because giving it a name makes it too real, it means your invested and that terrifies you because you’re still trying to untangle the mess from the last time. Sometimes it feels like you’ll never be free.

Fuck you hate this; you hate how scared you are to admit your feelings. How every time you open your mouth to express it, the words catch in your throat and instead you kiss him, hoping to pour your emotions into that kiss, hoping that he knows.

But he doesn’t know, how could he?

You go round and round like this until you reach your house in a shitty part of town. It’s ramshackle at best but it’s yours for now. The rent is affordable with what you make, and you’ve learned to be thrifty. Most of the things you own come from second hand stores. Some out of necessity but others…

You can feel a history or a story in a piece of furniture that’s been preowned, it speaks to you in a way you can’t explain, the same way music does.

You aren’t home for long when there’s a quiet tap on your door. Long enough for you to change into a Fleetwood Mac t-shirt and pyjama shorts, you’ve pulled your hair up into a messy bun and put your song book on the table because it’s going to be one of those nights, you need to channel all this emotion somehow and why not into a song. There’s something cathartic about transforming your heartbreak into notes, about creating something from the anguish.

When you open the door Riz is standing there, the edges of his eyes crinkling as he studies you.

“You left.” He states.

“Hm.”

There’s a million things you want to say, you feel the build up of emotion in your chest. You want to bare your soul to this man, to give him everything, to tell him despite the fact it’s only been a couple of months you love him. That you loved him the minute your eyes met across a crowded bar, and you saw him smile. As usual the words die in your throat because being vulnerable does not come naturally to you, not during your marriage to Wyatt, when it was used as a weapon and certainly not after.

“I wanna talk about that.” He tells you, before tilting his head towards your living room. “Can I come in?”

You open the door for him with a sigh because you know this is how it ends. The man you love, reminding you that this thing you have is casual, that he doesn’t owe you a god damned thing. That’s one of the things you love about Riz, he’s open and honest, he makes his intentions clear, there’s no expectations.

His thumbs loop in the rungs of his jeans as he steps inside, he notes the song book on the table, your dress from tonight tossed in front of the washing machine. You’ve scrubbed your face free of make up and you still look fucking radiant. He wonders how you do that, how you pluck at all of his heartstrings at once. You’re like this melody in his head, one he follows but can’t quite capture no matter how hard he’s tries. He wants you; he always wants you, he wants to tell you that but you’ve been burned before, you’re skittish, he gets that but he also knows that things have come to a head. That he needs to lay his cards down on the table because you can’t keep going on this way, it’s make or break. He needs to know what this is because he’s already too far gone, he can’t do casual with you, doesn’t want to. He’s all or nothing, ride or die. 

“That girl tonight, you know I’ve fucked her.” He says before realising maybe that isn’t the best place to start. “Before you, not since us.”

“You don’t have to explain anything.” You say as you linger in the living doorway, your shoulder coming to rest on the doorframe.

“No I don’t.” He agrees. “But I want to.”

You shrug. It’s a cold gesture but fuck he knows you; he knows it’s your way of protecting yourself, of getting distance. He can’t stand the idea of that, of a chasm between the two of you, right now it feels like there’s a gulf and he fucking hates it so he just comes out with it.

“I love you.” he says frankly, his hand rubbing over the back of his neck. “I have since the moment we met, there hasn’t been anyone else and there won’t be anyone else, not if you love me too.”

He stares at you, and he waits, but there’s silence. You don’t seem to know what to say, and he gets that. He’s just thrown everything out on the table, he wouldn’t know what to do with it either.

“It’s ok.” He says quietly. “It’s ok if you don’t love me too.”

He purses his lips together and he feels that fucking ache in the centre of his chest because his heart is breaking. He feels too much, he always has. He’s always been this way.

“I’m gonna…” he jerks his head at the door before squeezing past you. His hand grips the doorhandle to let himself out when he feels a tug on his kutte.

He turns to you surprised and for a moment your eyes meet, and he sees everything. He sees the fear, the adoration, the vulnerability, the want. He sees it all and he knows that deep down you feel the same way too. He knows that the world has hurt you, scarred you, made you impenetrable and you’re still learning that it’s ok to love somebody, to allow yourself to be loved. Your hands are in his hair, mouth brushing over his, the kiss is sweet and soft and he doesn’t expect it, he doesn’t expect anything from you and isn’t that just thing that breaks you.

“I love you.” You whisper against his lips. “Christ I’ve wanted to say it, I just couldn’t make the words come out. I’ve wanted to say it so many times…”

His forehead comes to rest upon yours, his thumb ghosting over the blush of your cheek. There’s intimacy in the gesture, a wealth of understanding that doesn’t need words. It’s hard for you, he gets it, he always has.

“Love me or leave me, but please don’t ever fuck around on me.” You request.

There’s a sense of pleading in your voice and it hurts him to hear it, because he knows that it’s happened before. That the fallout from it has made you closed off, because something like that it erodes at your self-worth, it makes you react the way you did tonight.

“I will always love you; I won’t leave you and I'll never fuck around on you.” he promises you as he looks into those eyes of yours. He wants you to see that he means it, that he believes in the two of you. “I'm yours Songbird for as long as you'll have me, in this life and the next.”

Love Riz? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[istanchan]

Are Pat and Kawi “bad characters”?

I usually don’t go on TikTok to read discourse about shows. But I happened to stumble across this while looking for edits and it just made me so frustrated.

So op made a post about how they can’t stand Pat and Kawi from step by step and be my favorite. They went on to talk about how they don’t even understand how Jeng and Pisaeng deal with their respective partners. Honestly I didn’t really feel like talking about it but with the tens of other people agreeing with them I couldn’t stop myself.

There’s a lot to unpack here but starting off with explaining why the two characters act the way they do helps.

With Pat I feel that most people who watch the show forget that there is a 10 year age gap between the characters (and the actors). While that may not seem like a lot, the fact that Jeng is Pat’s superior and his social class plays into their dynamic and Pat’s behavior. I am more convinced now then ever that the purpose of Step By Step was to portray a realistic representation of how it would be to date your boss. It’s messy and hard to work through. Pat’s character at times is an emotional wreck, I’m not going to deny that, but he still manages to be mature even when his boss and his partner (I don’t think it’s appropriate to label jeng as his boyfriend) isn’t. Jeng completely disregards reality in episode 10, he leaves Pat to handle the brunt of the gossip. Pat after trying to talk with Jeng to mediate the situation, ends up doing what he thinks is best. His character is raw and real and messy at times but I enjoy watching it nonetheless.

As for Kawi, I feel that it’s not fair to judge his character right now since only 6 episodes are out and we haven’t really gotten to the climax of the show. His character is still growing and learning. But honestly in my opinion Kawi as a character is easier to comprehend and understand than Pat. I don’t think Kawi acts completely unreasonable. He does makes mistakes but he tries his best to fix them and better himself. Again like in step by step there is the factor of social class that comes in between Pisaeng and Kawi. Pisaeng is rich and is well known around campus. Kawi struggles to see how a guy like Pisaeng could like him.

It seems this is the common denominator for Pat and Kawi—their insecurities. And to me that’s a completely reasonable factor. For us as the audience it’s easy to rule out what behaviors we would want to change or fix with character we watch, but if we were in their shoes would act completely dissimilar? Life isn’t black and white, and making the right choices isn’t alway easy. I feel that many shows and especially these two show this.

This whole discussion takes me to this wonderful post that I think about all the time when I’m watching BL shows now:

By/For/About Queers Part 1 &

By/For/About Queers Part 2

Both be my favorite and step by step have proven to realistically portray queer experiences. While be my favorite still has way to go I’m surprised by how the writers handled Pisaengs road to discovering his identity. Talking about BL shows in the light of which ones are really for queer or and not just about queer people changes the perspective. I think this plays a small role in why these two shows may be hard to understand the characters pov. Many people that watch BL shows aren’t queer and even some who are, don’t watch BLs for to sympathize with a queer perspective. Many just use BLs as a way to escape this heteronormative world, and that’s honestly completely okay. I do it too sometimes. But that doesn’t undermine characters like Pat and Kawi or even Jeng and Pisaeng.

At the end of the day each person is entitled to enjoy media however they wish, that’s the beauty of the internet. So I don’t have any animosity towards op and all the commenters. I’m glad they have a different opinion so I can share mine.

[asexual-means-no-attraction]

Being in a very mogai-infested fandom is pain, but I'm probably most annoyed by demisexuality being so rampant as a HC. There is no reason for that label to even exist. I just came across a fanfic and decided to read it just to see what the author considers to be "demisexual" and:

[[Casual intimacy isn’t his thing if he’s being honest. The idea of sex without the weight of romance isn’t something he feels he’s comfortable with.]]

That's... literally normal. In fact, it's what I was specifically taught as a child was normal. That sex should only be had with the person I loved, and preferably was already engaged/married to. Because my family is catholic and that's their conservative opinion on sex.

It's totally fine to not be into one night stands or other hookups, but you are not a different sexuality because of it, otherwise being catholic is also a sexuality I guess.

(I didn't proof read any of this, so apologies now)

Gonna go off on a tangent here, but I swear it's related:

Growing up I watched a lot of Disney. And something I noticed a lot in any non animation show or movie, was just how rich everyone was. A house would have only a father and daughter, but have 5 bedrooms, 3 baths, a massive living room and dining room, and a state of the art full blown security system that at the time I didn't actually believe could actually exist cuz no 'normal' person could have that. And that would be the standard for many movies that were very much supposed to be realistic in the settings. They'd even say these people have average jobs. Even the apartment in wizards of Waverly place was HUGE. With each kid having their own bed rooms significantly larger than mine. They literally own a family restaurant that they live upstairs in. But the apartment was bigger than my childhood home. And this is coming from a kid who grew up middle class, the most well of between all my friends. If I were to base what the normal American home looks like based on the media I watched as a kid, I would have a very warped idea of what homes look like. If you actually look at the stats, not even my middle class home is normal.

Mainstream media is produced by rich people (the workers under them not so much, but the actual person in charge generally), and that can easily give a bias or warped view of what's "normal." This is even more exaggerated by the fact that characters in mainstream media are designed to be interesting not normal.

So if you're basing your idea of attraction, dating, sex, etc on what you see in the media, it's going to be warped. Which I feel like ties into your comments quite well.

Usually when I see people try to explain what is and isn't normal for experiences of attraction I get examples of media and fiction. Usually examples of characters having one night stands or being playboys. Which:

1. Flirty play boy characters are common in the media because it's easy to make them a dynamic character. Giving them character development or to gain special feelings quickly give them a whole new perspective that audiences love (this isn't a bad thing for the record).

2. Most irl people who are like these fictional characters don't get nearly as many one night stands as they or the media claim. They aren't nearly as much of a player as they seem. And they're also usually pretty annoying unlike the characters in the shows who are made to be likeable. It's unrealistic in the first place.

3. Media itself is not a good standard of what is normal as it's entirely biased on what the producer deems as normal or average. See my tangent at the beginning. The characters aren't a good way to figure out what's "normal."

I have had people explain things usually actual people as examples which I think ties into my earlier rant in exactly the same way.

How you view the people around you (or more accurately your perception of them) is biased. You have a limited social circle and can't really base what's standard for society off of it. I'm guilty of this too. We all are. It's a very natural thing to assume everyone is like the people that you have experienced with-- for better or for worse..

If you're in your teens and have teenage friends, it's gonna be really easy to feel like they're all obsessed with sex or dating. It's a new thing that you're (hopefully) just now really learning about and exploring. It's easy to go a little overboard with something new. And it's also normal to not be interested in something new. Some kids are gonna be really into dating while others aren't. Some are gonna go from one person to another, others aren't. Cuz no one knows what they're doing. No one knows their boundaries yet. No one knows what they want outta relationship yet. They're figuring it out. Whether you are interested in it or not-- both ends of the spectrum and everything in between is totally normal.

As a young adult you're still figuring things out so it's the same thing. Your own journey to figuring out what/who/how/where you want a relationship is gonna be unique then someone else's. It's normal for each person to have a different journey. This alone isn't some new identity.

Lastly, on a final note. The amount of people who want "sex without romance" is a lot smaller than we're led to believe. And the people who do feel that way are the ones who are abnormal. They may have trauma that influences it, they may not. They could be likeable, they could not. They may be abusers who just want someone to abuse, they may not have any ill will at all. They may be a shitty person, they may not. Regardless, our society pushes "romance goes with sex" a whole hell of a lot more than "sex and romance are separate." Like... a lot so. Historically and in the modern day.

So if your entire reasoning for a whole brand new identity is "I want to connect before we date or have sex," I need you to know how much that is actually extremely normal. And how much you've been influenced by biased media, possibly a shitty friend or ex, and just a warped pov in general (not necessarily of any fault of your own).

[desertfangs]

Daniel for the 'send me a character' thing

Send me a character and I'll do the thing!

Sexuality Headcanon: He’s definitely on the bi side of the scale, but I think he skews a lot closer to gay and probably identifies more as gay, especially in the 70s in the circles that he and Armand traveled in. Although I don’t think Daniel has ever been particularly picky about labels applied to him in that sense, either.

Gender Headcanon: Daniel is the opposite of toxic masculinity. He can be masculine and he has body hair for days, but he’s generally soft-spoken and gentle. Cis, but not worried about being manly enough, you know? 

A ship I have with said character: Armand/Daniel is my OTP of all time. I think he and Armand are just two halves of a whole and they make each other better. I absolutely think they’re soulmates in the deepest sense of the word. There’s the joke that Daniel is sort of Armand-sexual but I think it’s sort of true. Armand is the love of his life and the feeling is mutual. 

And sometimes Daniel/Marius? Please don’t hurt me, but I go back and forth on whether I see him and Marius as romantic. The first time I read PL, it felt very platonic. Marius had spent a long time as Daniel’s caregiver and while they’re obviously close and connected, it didn’t read to me as anything romantic and the asexual in me longs for more platonic ships in this fandom. But I think the vampires can have a lot of intimacy without getting hot and heavy (this is true of humans too btw). I do think as a romantic ship, it's hot as hell and tbh I’ve written it both ways. I can enjoy it both ways! But in my personal fanonverse, it’s something I waiver on a lot. I do think they’re good together either way!

A BROTP I have with said character: Daniel and Lestat (it’s a BroTP with benefits, bonus points if it’s with Armand as an OT3). They just have a fun dynamic. They can get into trouble together and cause chaos, but they also sort of even each other out. Daniel allows Lestat to open up a little more than he usually does because he’s a good listener, non-judgemental, and adept at asking the right questions. Lestat allows Daniel to vent about Armand (in an affectionate way - we all need to get things off our chests!) and he appreciates Daniel’s sense of humor and wit. They both liking having fun and doing random shit.

A NOTP I have with said character: I don’t know that I have any real NOTPs with him. Maybe Santino? I don’t personally see him having any sort of romantic relationship with Louis, I see them as being friends who both have great love for Armand, but I’m not bothered by the idea either. 

A random headcanon: When Daniel was recovering from his madness, Armand sent him an iPod when he heard Daniel sometimes got overwhelmed by noise. Daniel became obsessed with the podcasts at the time, mostly radio shows, things like Radio Lab, This American Life, and Stuff You Should Know. After he moves back into Trinity Gate, he and Armand listen to his favorite episodes of these together and have long discussions about them afterward. 

General Opinion over said character: I think Daniel is neat. He’s affable, he’s friendly, he’s good at making conversation. He’s curious and up for almost anything, which is why he and Armand work so well. He’s funny and has a dark, sardonic sense of humor. He laughs easily, maybe too easily, but he’s pretty easy to get along with. He’s generally pretty agreeable but he isn’t afraid to speak up when necessary. He’s a cool dude. I dig him. 

[momentsbeforemass]

Those people

(by request, my homily from Sunday)

“You’re always talking about the love of God.”

That’s how the conversation started. It wasn’t a statement of fact. It was a complaint.

They were going to straighten me out. To give me the plan for what I should be talking about.

I needed to be talking about their issue, their cause. It’s not a bad one. In fact, it tracks with what the Church teaches.

But as they went on about what I needed to be doing – God faded into the background.

It was all about their issue, their cause.

Until they got to the people who didn’t support their cause. “People you know,” I was emphatically told.

Then the knives came out. And the labels.

The people who didn’t support their cause became “them.” The people who didn’t support their cause became “those people.”

And God? God was nowhere to be seen.

If you’ve ever wondered why I’m always talking about the love of God, this kind of thing is one of the reasons why.

Because the love of God isn’t a coat of New Testament paint. That love, as St. John tells us, is the very nature of God.

The love of God isn’t a nice idea. Or a passing sentiment, a warm glow that’s here for a moment and then gone.

The love of God is eternal and dynamic, the very force behind creation itself.

The love of God is ongoing and intimate.

As St. Paul tells us in the second reading, “God proves His love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us.”

That love is the ground of our believing.

And, as we just heard in the Gospel, that love is first given to “those people.”

The thing is, “those people” are not just out there somewhere. “Those people” aren’t just members of some group. “Those people” aren’t just the ones who don’t see things our way.

Every one of us has “those people” in our lives. Every one of us has someone we’re hoping will change.

Maybe it’s a child who’s adrift or a family member who’s setting themselves up to fail. Maybe it’s a friend who’s not making good decisions or a loved one who’s struggling with addiction or mental illness. We’ve all got “those people” in our lives.

We’re hoping and praying for them, but right now – it doesn’t look like anything’s happening.

We’re believing for the best for them, but right now – it’s like they’re moving backwards.

When that’s all we’re seeing, it’s easy to get frustrated. To think, that’s just the way they are. To see them as stuck. To write them off as “those people.” Even though they’re our people.

But that’s not what they need. They don’t need our help finding faults, they know them all too well.

They need someone who will show them mercy, not judgment. Someone who will believe for them, even when they can’t believe for themselves. Someone who will meet them where they are, and who will love them too much to leave them there.

Someone who will wait for them.

That is the example that Jesus is showing us in today’s Gospel, with the woman at the well.

Their meeting is no accident. As St. John tells, Jesus “is tired from His journey” and “His disciples had gone into the town to buy food.”

Jesus could have gone with them. Instead, He sat down and chose to wait. For her.

Look who Jesus chose to wait for. She’s a Samaritan, part of a breakaway group that refused to worship at the Temple in Jerusalem. And that’s the nicest thing you could say about them. Long story short, good and godly Jews had nothing to do with Samaritans. The Samaritans are “those people.”

Then there’s her personal life. Five marriages. Five divorces. And now she’s living with number six. She is a train wreck. Even to the other Samaritans, she’s one of those “those people.”

This is someone who knows rejection all too well. This is someone who doesn’t think much of herself. This is someone who’s been beaten down by life. She is definitely one of “those people.”

And that exactly is who Jesus is waiting for.

Look what Jesus says to her.

If you know the culture of the first century, then you know what it really means. It’s why the disciples were amazed when they saw them talking.

Jesus asks her for water, but with a familiarity reserved only for close family members.

Jesus speaks with her as if He had known her all His life.

She’s one of “those people.” And Jesus is talking with her – like she was His sister.

But it’s not just how Jesus says it. It’s what Jesus says to her.

Jesus doesn’t pretend things are perfect, but Jesus doesn’t judge her either.

Jesus gets to the heart of the matter. But instead of beating her down, He lifts her up and shows her mercy.

Jesus doesn’t choose sides. For Jesus, there’s no such thing as “those people.”

That’s the example that Jesus gives us. That is how you and I are supposed to treat “those people.”

But if we’re honest, we’ve seen this one before. In our own lives.

How many times has God waited on us?

How many times has God waited on you and me when we were adrift or setting ourselves up to fail?

How many times has God waited on us when we weren’t making good decisions or we were struggling?

How many times have you and I been “those people?”

I don’t know about you, but I lost count years ago.

Today, let’s take a moment to thank God for all those times He waited on us. All those times when we gave Him every reason to say, “I am so done with you.” All those times when anyone else would have walked away.

All those times when God didn’t. When God showed us mercy, when God stayed and helped us pick up the pieces.

Then, let’s follow the example of Jesus. And answer God’s call to wait on someone else, someone who’s adrift, someone who’s not making good decisions.

Will you pray for them and encourage them? Will you show them mercy and let them know that you care? Will you love them?

Will you show them how God treats “those people?”

Sunday’s Readings

[dwtdog]

dnfweek day 1 the chains out now :3

full fic below the cut :3

Dream is in love with his best friend. Has been, for quite a while, even if he was a bit slow to realize it. And now, after months of waiting to meet, more months spent adjusting to being in person, and a late-night confession, he’s still hopelessly in love with his best friend, who is also his boyfriend.

He has a love-hate relationship with that word, boyfriend. When he’d just been on the verge of figuring himself out, it had scared him. Too many hours of sleepless nights of playing out scenarios in his head, realities where his romantic partner wasn’t a girl like he’d always been told they would be, always a dark-haired figure taking the place of the imagined male partner.

And when acceptance had come, there had only been one person he wanted to talk to about it. And when a teasing British voice had said the word over a never-ending Discord call, it had been freeing. Easy acceptance, no change in their dynamic.

And on the night of their confession, an earnest conversation following a kiss that had been the slowly built product of a lifetime of tension, the word hadn’t seemed enough.

George had been his partner for years. They were a team in many ways, filling in where the other fell short, always lending an ear or offering just the right words. And to Dream, romance was a natural extension of that. It was so them, to be partners in every possible way.

So when George asked what they were, Dream had hesitated. Did their label need to change? Was what they were something that anyone but them could understand? He didn’t know, but he knew who he could talk to about it.

“What do you think we are?” he whispers, not wanting to break the calm of the night as he parrots George’s question back to him. They’re both laying in Dream’s bed, facing each other and close enough that their breaths collide above the pillows.

George smiles softly and Dream wants to touch the crinkles that form at the corners of his eyes. “I asked you first, idiot,” he teases. “But if you have to know, I guess we could be boyfriends.”

The word. Dream’s not sure how he reacts, but judging by the way George’s mouth quirks, he must be making a face. “You think?” he asks, careful. He’s wary of the feelings twisting his stomach, unsure of their true origins.

“Well,” George starts, eyes meeting Dream’s and holding the contact, “You like me, and I guess you’re alright so, what else would we be?”

Dream rolls his eyes at George’s ridiculousness, even as a warm fondness chases away his prior worries. “Boyfriends,” he says, tasting the word on his tongue. It fizzes, like a strange candy, and he can’t say he hates it. “You’re my boyfriend. George is my boyfriend, Dream is George’s boyfriend.”

“Mine,” George mutters, and there is a brightness in his eyes that Dream isn’t used to that’s absolutely intoxicating.

And it hits Dream with another realization. “Are we going to… Tell people?” he asks.

“Do you want to? And you aren’t allowed to ask for my answer.”

“I- no, I don’t think we should.” Dream sighs. “I mean- obviously we tell like, Sapnap and Bad, but not-”

George cuts him off, “Only the people who need to know. And everyone who doesn’t can fuck off.”

“Well I wouldn’t say it like that, but-” and he’s cut off again, this time by George moving forward.

“We’ll figure it out tomorrow Dreamie,” and his proximity combined with the pet name are enough to completely remove any thoughts that aren’t just the name of the man whose lips are brushing against his as they both lean in.

And they do talk about it more, after that. They take their time, telling people carefully and explaining that they aren’t exactly telling everyone, so keep it quiet.

Sapnap is unreasonably happy, then tries to give both of them the shovel talk in defense of the other. It ends with the three of them cuddled on the couch, Sapnap insisting on being in the middle since he’s sure the two of them are getting enough time together.

Bad cries, and then comes to visit a few days later so he can cry some more and hug them both. Dream cries too, and he doesn’t miss how George ducks his head to hide his own misty eyes.

There are more people after that, but soon enough everyone who deserves or needs to know does, and then Dream has to deal with the hard part, which is holding himself back from bragging to everyone he meets that he’s dating the most beautiful, funny, and ridiculous man in existence.

It becomes a problem when he finds himself wanting to lead every conversation down the route of bragging about George, complimenting him to every stranger he sparks up a conversation with. His sister tells him to get a diary when he comes to her one to many times, so he opens a note on his phone just to store every George-related thought he has.

Depending on his level of intoxication, and the amount of time he’s been physically away from the man in question, the notes get more and more nonsensical. Some of them are so dirty he deletes them instantly, or sends them to George to laugh about. Some are sickeningly sweet, even for him, and he also sends those to George just to giggle at the mix of swooning and disgusted emojis he gets in response.

In the end, he forgoes the idea of the notes and just sends everything straight to George. It’s fun for both of them, and it keeps Dream from exposing their relationship to the masses.

And for a while, he doesn’t even think to consider that George has a similar problem. He knows George, adores him for all the ways he shows his love, but still he misses all the signs.

When they’re apart, whether it be on opposite coasts or just in different rooms, George will always make a joke when they reunite. Some variation of what he’d said on that first day they’d met, ‘Wow, Dream, you look like a god with your unedited video and three energy drink cans behind you,’ or simply holding up his phone to show a timer he’d started the moment they separated, and a number of other absurd little George-isms that Dream cherishes.

It only comes to a head when they’re in a jewelry shop, admiring the gold and silver on display in glass cases.

Dream trails a finger over the chain around his neck, something nice he had bought for himself just before the face reveal. He’s looking at a different chain, with George hovering behind his shoulder.

“Do you think I should get a new one? Cause honestly, I didn’t know much about jewelry when I bought this one, and I don’t think I like it as much as I like some of these,” Dream muses, pinching the chain between his fingers as he talks.

George hums, and Dream tries to get the attention of the girl behind the counter as he waits for a response. “I mean, it’s not like you couldn’t afford it.”

Dream laughs, “But that’s not why I wouldn’t get it- it just feels, I don’t know, wasteful to replace a chain that’s not even broken. Like there’s nothing wrong with it-”

“You could give it to me,” George says, speaking fast, then shrugging.

“You want my old chain?” Dream asks, a little breathless. George wearing his jewelry, wearing something that was his, is a breathtaking image.

“It would be like,” George hesitates, taking a breath, “having a part of you when we’re apart. And it’s like- like a ring, sort of.”

Dream turns to face him, and resisting the urge to pull him into a searing kiss takes every ounce of self-control he has. “Yes, yes you can have it.” He’s breathing hard, and he quickly turns away to focus entirely on waving someone over to get the chain he wants out of the case so him and George can get out of there as soon as possible.

They could have charged him any price for the new chain and Dream wouldn’t have noticed, too caught up in the euphoria of George’s request. As soon as they’re in the car, he’s reaching for the chain around his neck, fingers fumbling as his hands shake with giddiness.

“Oh my god- just let me do it, idiot,” George says after letting him struggle for a few moments. His hands are cold as they push Dream’s aside and brush against his neck, deftly unhooking the clasp.

He moves the chain towards his own neck, and Dream quickly hooks a finger through the dangling metal, stopping him. “Let me,” he asks, pleading with his eyes when they meet George’s.

George blushes. “How are you going to put it on me if you couldn’t even get it off?” he teases, even as he turns in the car seat, pulling his hair away from his neck.

Luckily, Dream’s shakiness seems to have dispersed with the newfound sense of purpose, and he’s deliberate with his movements as maneuvers the chain to loop around the front of George’s neck so he can clasp it in the back. He feels the way George exhales when Dream’s hand brushes against the stubble on his chin, and watches as his shoulders relax when the chain falls into place.

It looks good, and Dream curses himself for not thinking of it sooner.

George turns back around, reaching for the bag in Dream’s lap. “Now let me do yours,” and it's not a question as much as it's a promise, so Dream lets him.

And when they get home later, Dream delights in watching as George pulls his shirt off and the chain sparkles in the low light of his bedroom, falling against bare pale skin. It looks like it was meant to be there, nestled over his collarbones.

Dream takes his own shirt off, and George’s gaze burns against his skin, along his neck, and knows he feels the same.

When George leans over him, the chain dangles directly over Dream’s eyes, and he’s sure he must be a sight with the way his mouth opens in awe, the way his eyes are wide with wonder.

It’s a wonderful thing, to know George is his. And it’s near incomprehensible to know that George feels the same, that same possessive need to have a dedication to their partnership for the whole world to see.

[pop-punklouis]

some artists such as Harry, Louis, Miley, Green Day, Coldplay, Kendrick really seem to like doing live concerts, interact with the public, perform, feel the energy. although i'm seeing more and more artists with social anxiety about performing like Zayn, Justin B, Shawn, Sam Fender, Ariana.. and while I agree that covid made things hard for so many I wonder if there's another reason. do you think a concert makes them feel more vulnerable by being more themselves than their images? maybe they feel more pressure nowadays cause concerts became the biggest source of income for musicians? or just, fortunately, the mental health debate is taken more serious these days and their feelings are taken in consideration much more than before? it's interesting how something that it's the absolute favorite part of the job for some can be the nightmare for others

i think you bring up a lot of good points about the shift. i generally agree that i do believe it’s a myriad of things, but regarding the mental health side of it, it feels with the rise of social media and fan/artist relationship and the thin veil instead of the curtain that presides over large parts of the industry now…. that it isn’t as easy and simple to brush away an artist’s concerns and mental anguish about touring or just being in a demanding career dynamic like it used to by record labels and management companies. there’s also a lot more public outlets and readily known sources for help that many artists were isolated from or didn’t know about in the vein of pressure to make money and churn out product previously. not saying those things don���t still happen (because they do…. a lot) but sometimes i think about the shift of commercialism and consumerism in relation to entertainment and how certain artists are allowed more flexibility than they ever would’ve before with their careers and mental (even physical) struggles. thinking about how the backstreet boys were forced to tour even when brian had to have open heart surgery. thinking about how much damage was done to britney spears as she quickly became a plastic product to the industry instead of a human being. thinking about how many artists lives would’ve been different and altered if they were given the compassion and humanity for things like touring etc. yet, it’s still heartbreaking that even though many artists have more say and presence in their careers now, others still don’t when it comes to demanding dynamics in their image/work.