#Because I do think the girl with abandonment issues would have a hard time knowing what it feels like to be loved

[almea]

I love thinking about how if Blake went up to Yang right now and told her "I love you," I don't... think Yang would know how to react to it. Not in a silly, "oh what a gay disaster" way, but in a "Yang has abandonment issues and has never been loved in the deep, all-encompassing way Blake loves her, which she absolutely reciprocates, so would she even know how to accept that love for herself" kind of way.

Blake and Yang need to talk about Yang's abandonment issues and the way she values the people she loves over herself to her own detriment before their relationship can move forward and that's why I was so anti-reunion kiss and why I don't expect them to kiss before the last half or third of the volume. They can continue being stupidly cute together before then though, so I don't even mind.

[hoseoksluna]

A CELEBRATION OF 2K FOLLOWERS — PLEASANT, GOOD AND MERCIFUL | jjk

pairing: non-idol!boyfriend!jungkook x f. reader 

genre: smut, angst, fluff — the whole package

word count: 8.9k

summary: jungkook wanted to make the night better for you—but what he didn't expect is that he would come across his true, unabashed self while doing so.

taglist: join | cp: wattpad, ao3

warnings: jungkook, physical violence, jungkook is wearing that mesh top and that exact outfit (god, help me) and he's horny (god, help me again), abandonment issues, dissociation, panic mode, fear, swear words, dom/sub dynamics, protected sex, oral sex (f. & m. receiving), deepthroat:), teasing, pda, jungkook smokes and jungkook uses his busan accent (you have been warned), religion, praying, anxiety, hyper-independence, trust issues, begging, a little bit of a praise kink — barely, cowgirl:).

note: because we hit 2k incredible followers, i prepared this for you, my babies. a full fucking package of drama, smut, angst and fluff—all from jungkook's own pov!!!!! this is all for you bc i love you sm. thank you, guys, so much for being here with me, sticking around and reading my stupid fics. enjoy this one shot and let me know what you think. i'm sending you so many kisses until you get sick of me. seriously. i won't stop. i love you. MWAHMWAHMWAHMWAHMHWA.

It is a lucid dream, really, the way the lustrous colors of the fireworks bloom across the charcoal sky. They intertwine with the darkened clouds, like vines of wild flowers, that try and fail to remain hidden and Jungkook thinks you burst with even richer, emotive colors. 

With your kaleidoscopic glitter on the high points of your cheeks, and the tiny stars that you stuck on each arch of your brow. 

He can feel the vibration of the deep bass, belonging to the music, coursing down your chest as he stands behind you, drifting his hands down the upper half of your body while the rest of the strangers are hypnotized by the rapper on stage that he has very little knowledge of. The reason why he paid for the tickets, pumped a full tank of gas, drove you all the way to the countryside outside of the normality of your daily life and never let go of your hand—despite the fact they grew uncomfortably clammy due to the stifling heat—was because you loved the man. The vulgar headliner, whose lyrics nearly made his eyes fall out of his sockets once he fully and consciously listened to the songs that you always sing when you do your makeup or hum at random times when you’re doing your own thing. 

And what’s worse, it made his dick hard when he heard you scream out the swear words and the filthy imagery painted in the vivaciousness of the songs.

You, who scarcely cursed. 

Who omitted the vulgarity when rapping along. 

He doesn’t think he ever caught those words coming out of your mouth. Not even when he was balls-deep in you. 

Multiple times. 

It had only been four months ago when he found you and his long silent heart gained your voice. It was the sweetest, most languid sound that ever graced his ears and in an instant, you became a fleshly sanctuary of serenity. One he would find himself needing more often than he liked because the truth is—Jungkook doesn’t date. 

He considers relationships an unnecessary house of pain. If he spends a long time there, he forgets what the outside world looks like. Forgets how to get home. Forgets the roads and the rules and moralities of life and society because, deep down, he lets go of himself for the girl. 

He would kill a soul if she found herself needing it. Or at least destroy one so she would have a peace of mind. 

Break hands and break noses of people who looked at her wrong. 

That’s who he is and as much as he tried to change it, he failed every time. Failed like the clouds up above. His effort to stay hidden from you vanished into thin air because you would invariably find him and his heart would start praying with your voice. The pathetic thing would beg for mercy from the world. His knees would wobble and he’d let them sink right in front of you—all because of your deeply inert calmness and briskness that would, strangely, pour the nectar of mollification over his bloodstream. 

And he gave in to you because you didn’t ask, nor expect, anything from him. 

You didn’t do what the others did. 

You were independent and so full of life, of a different world, one he wanted to take a peek inside. 

And what he didn’t predict was that the road would be molded for his feet. And once he kissed you and learned the ins and outs of your intellect and the chambers of your heart, he still remembered the streets that line the outside world—its names, even. He remembered the address of his own apartment building, the number to his door and to the pass code. 

And so did you. 

You didn’t ask him to kill for you. And you didn’t ask him for tickets to see your favorite artists. 

He did it because he unreservedly loved you. 

And here you are, giggling, rubbing your little ass up against his groin and he detects happiness prickling his nerve endings. His hands are enveloped, snugly, as if no one was around and the artists traveled across the country for you, around your waist while your hands are up in the air, pointed fingers erect, dipping up and down to the rhythm of the music. 

And what he could never predict, not even in a million years—he’s enjoying himself. Feels the traces of the same vibrations ricocheting off your back into his chest, where the song enlivens him. 

He’s enjoying himself because you are enjoying yourself, brimming with elation and the radiance of your smile as you laugh, dance and scream out curse words that he’s equally enjoying hearing. 

Jungkook makes a mental note to pull those sounds out of you later in the early hours. 

And then you turn around, surprising him. You cup the side of his neck while you point that index finger in his face, screaming out the lyrics. And Jungkook regards it so overwhelming that he can only stare. Doesn’t know the lyrics to scream them back at you and make your experience better, but he’s learning them as he’s consuming them from you, his eyes tracing over each movement of your mouth that engraves them in his brain. He feels your hips moving under his palm at the bottom of your spine and when you roll your body forward, colliding into his like a star that meets its lover once only to never see it again, and brush your lips against his—he’s so horny and so in love with you that his eyes wet, his emotions rushing in and clouding his sight. 

The background fades out, fully, into the charcoal of the night, the colored lights softening and it’s just you that is the distribution of incandescence for the people present—and for him. And then you go down, dragging your hands down his stomach and his thighs, only to spring right up, grab his hips and make that collision happen—against the laws of the universe. 

A different star. A special one. 

Out of his darkened peripheral view, he can sense the audience having a way better time than they did before you turned around to face him. But Jungkook doesn’t give a fuck. 

Not when his cock is so tight in his pants. 

Thankfully, you’re obscuring it with the shape of your delightful body. He thinks he’s going to run with you to his car, pump more adrenaline into your body, so you can refresh the drowsy grass with a pristine layer of dew through the sound of your laughter. He also wonders if you’re wet yourself underneath that gray dress of yours and just as he’s about to lean over and yell that question into your ear, you turn around and get ready for the next song. 

And catch the glance of some guy to your right as you do. Jungkook grits his jaw because you linger for a second longer that he doesn’t particularly like.

A certain fever poisons his veins, but at the same time he feels the pinpricks of a cold sweat at the top of his spine. Who the fuck does he think he is, staring at his girl like that? 

But when he follows that line of the half broken gaze, he finds the guy’s slender face scrunched up in disgust. 

Oh, Jungkook might be ready to throw some hands and get him kicked out of this place, tell the cops it was all him so you can continue enjoying yourself in his arms. He’s seen some people sticking their tongues down their partner’s throat and he’s giving you a dirty look for dancing? 

This can easily be his very last night alive. 

Instinctively, Jungkook bunches up his fists and he’s ready to go after him, but you scream out and emit out your excitement, taking a deep breath to go absolutely mad as the rapper begins to perform the song that he’s heard you jamming out to the most. You take his hands, beaming at him from behind, and uncurl them on your tummy. Your glance was too brief and there’s still a furrow to his brows and now he worries you think he’s being a buzzkill. He doesn’t want to ruin the night for you, so he draws in closer to the crook of your neck and begins to dance, softly, with you. Your hands intertwine with his and you bang them in the air, jumping up and down at the bridge of the song that the headliner hypes up. 

And then you’re singing in a different language and he’s done for, his heart tightening in his chest. The one he’s heard your mother talk in over the phone while you replied in English. Jungkook squeezes you so hard and you let him, your smile growing. Your voice is more throatier and low-pitched and Jungkook senses your foreignness swathing his cock and he knows there’s a bigger tent in his pants. He presses it against you, makes you feel it and you throw your delicious ass. 

His eyes nearly go cross-eyed as he rolls them back, tilting his head. The wind sweeps across the sweat of his exposed forehead, sifting through his hair and he can’t wait any longer. Desire has overpowered the poison in his veins in such a mighty way and he begins to stand in the middle of a crossroad. 

Wait forty five minutes until the rapper finishes the show and then get stuck in the crowd as everyone tries to leave at once. 

Or wait two more minutes and then bolt to the car to fuck your brains out. There’s a higher chance you and him won’t be caught sinning in the backseat. It’s midnight and the villagers are asleep. And in the forty minutes, while everyone enjoys the last show, he can make you come so many times and ascertain that your experience will be heightened and ultimately better. 

He’s also sure you’ll be able to hear him—if he leaves the window open a little bit. 

He’s ready to turn you around, the decision throbbing in his sternum, but you make the move first. Swiveling on your feet, your body faces him, though your head doesn’t. Once again, he follows your gaze. You scowl at the guy, your brows knitting and your glossy mouth rounding before moving into the shape of the lyrics. You throw a dirty look his way one last time and Jungkook laughs in pride, his heart constricting in the love he bears for you, and he pulls you in, disposed to kiss you. You wrap your arms around his neck and open your mouth just as he kisses you—and it’s you who darts out their tongue, rolling it against his. Jungkook squeezes your bum, slapping it gently—and it’s simultaneous the way you and him both peek at the guy’s reaction. 

The fucker is grinning. 

You give him a vulgar gesture, the moonless blue light enveloping around your middle finger. 

Jungkook laughs so hard that heads turn in his direction and he’s fucking delighted. You devour it with your mouth, sucking his lips so intensely that he stops breathing. He senses you sealing it in him and he can’t wait any longer. 

He needs you and he tells you. 

Breaking the lip lock, he peppers kisses on the sensitive spot behind your ear, wafting his hot breath there. He feels the gooseflesh on your arm right upon his ear, too, and electricity courses down his stomach. Fuck, he loves it so much. Thinks you’re so incredible and he wants to fuck that fact into your guts. 

“Let’s get out of here. I want you,” he rasps, drifting his hand up your bum to the ends of your hair, bunching them in his fist. “I want to give you this dick. You deserve it.” 

You suck in a harsh breath and withdraw to look at him. He bites his lip at the way his words painted a palette of such flushed beauty on your face, using colors this festival has never fucking seen. And his mouth ends rise in a prideful smile, not for his ability, but for your body. For the way it’s able to react to him so wonderfully. 

And he blushes when you begin to mouth the lyrics again while dipping to the seat of the amphitheater and sliding his blazer over his shoulders. 

He knows why you did that. 

And you validate his knowledge when you take his hand and lead him away from the concert, keeping close to him just to be cautious. 

You did it to camouflage the evidence of his arousal for you. 

And when you walk by the guy, you let go of his hand. Throw both middle fingers in his face. “You wish you had someone to leave with, huh?” 

The fucker puts his dirty hand on you, stopping you from walking away, and Jungkook doesn’t fucking hesitate. Like a bolt of lightning, he grabs his collar and fumes in his face. 

“What makes you fucking think you can touch my girl, huh? Juk go sip na?” he snarls, shaking him, his Busan dialect impulsively spilling out, darkening his voice and the latter question—‘Do you want to die?’ He watches a tendril of challenge line his eyes with murkiness and what happens next is too fast. 

Too fast for his liking. 

Knuckles collide with his cheek and at the rapid, unexpected and jarring contact, his lip ring cuts his gums. Jungkook grunts at the twinge that overpowers the throbbing on the side of his face, metal percolating through the aftertaste in his mouth, but he doesn’t let go of the guy’s shirt. In fact, he tightens his hold. Seethes. Is about to push him off and leave before things get even uglier, but then he feels your hands on his back and his heart stops, your voice mute, despite the fact your whole face twists in fear and is smeared with harrowing emotions that he’s never seen on you. Shrinks at the sight of your wet, bulging eyes. Of one singular tear grazing your lower lashes in a caress before plopping onto the wildflower meadow of the glitter on your cheek. 

“Get back,” he tells you, despite the swelling of his own emotions at your state of mind. But you don’t comply in time, unclench your fist and step back because far too soon, in the middle of the distraction, another collision bursts in this impenetrable darkness. 

Falling into you or falling for you even deeper, he can’t tell the difference within the numbing pain and his temper coaxes his exceedingly too easy tears to blur his vision. You don’t topple back on your hands, for Jungkook catches you in time with a strength that you somehow help him remember that he possesses. From the force of the guy’s jab, he was only pushed into you, but it doesn’t diminish the grave mistake he made. 

One he will pay for. 

Straightening you, Jungkook guides you towards the edge of the amphitheater and you step back, at last, startled. Turning around, he swings his fist into the guy’s face and he whimpers like a little bitch. 

One hit for your dignity. 

A second one for your tears. 

And the guy would’ve received a third and a fourth one had he not been held back by different pairs of arms all of a sudden. But he shakes them off. Pushes the guy back to his seat. He lands awkwardly on his tailbone with a hard thud and moans in pain. Suits him right for thinking he’s allowed to touch you, make you cry and remain unharmed. 

Jungkook shakes his head, his chest rising with heavy breaths and numbing, adrenaline-infused fury. “Sit here and keep your fucking hands to yourself, gaesaekki. Who the fuck do you think you are, making my girl cry by hitting me?” 

The music cuts out and the rapper hollers. Jungkook turns around and finds all of the attention of the audience and the headliner on him. Doesn’t want to put you on the spot like that, so he rolls his eyes in annoyance, finds your rounded ones and tips his chin further towards the exit, signaling to you to walk that way, so no one gets to look at you. You’re still standing by the edge of the amphitheater with your tear-stained cheeks and his heart aches, though once he sees that you’re covered by the shadows, he lifts a palm towards the stage and strides off, placing a hand on the small of your back and leading you towards the grassy hill. 

People are fucking testing him and he’s not in the mood. Not in the slightest. 

He’d go with his original plan—take your hand and run with you to his car, but he needs to cool off. His anger is sapping all the delight he gained from your microcosm of joy and he doesn’t want to ruin the night more than he already has. Jungkook curls an arm around your neck, tugging you flush to his side as you strut together with no one around. Lifts your chin so he can inspect how you’re feeling on your face. 

Your cheeks are glimmering, damply, carmine in the yellow light, accompanied by the faint burn of the stars up above, but your eyes have lost their great spark and you’re no longer beaming. They trace over his deadened cheek and mouth and you whimper, stopping dead in your tracks and burying your face in his chest. You wrap your arms around his middle, a hand stroking his back—and Jungkook feels himself drifting to a state of coma. The rapper’s lines decline the harder you nuzzle your face in his mesh-clad pecs and he can’t move his own hands, can’t hug you back, his panic cascading down his sternum, which he senses your warm weight upon. A ringing noise fills his ears, but he can’t wilt. He has to put you first and make things right. 

But his body doesn’t listen. 

He wills strength into his muscles, lifting his head towards the unmerciful heavens and letting your voice sound out his prayer. You evidently need physical support and emotional reassurement and he can’t give that to you out of his own weakened will. Not when he needs it so despairingly and eminently because he’s hollowed out on the inside. Not when he can’t hear a damn thing owing to the ringing in his ears. 

He can’t ask you for help, so he lets you pray through his heart to his father’s God. 

But nothing happens.

Radio silence. 

White noise. 

A feeble, miniature whine loosens from him. He’s not sure if you heard it and he hopes you didn’t, and for that sole reason—he does the unthinkable. 

He begins to pray with his own voice. 

Because there’s nothing else to do. 

Give me strength. To be there for her and not mess this up more than I already have. Fix me for her and help me make this night better for her. 

The tiniest of lights against your face unbolts ajar in him, vines of the flowers of mitigation blooming from that sliver of open space—right into his arms that abruptly lift and wrap around your shoulders, pulling you as close as humanly possible. 

The ringing lessens. 

And then his lips move. 

He kisses your forehead, dwelling there for a moment, basking in the fact that his prayer worked, and mentally, he ejects the trepidation and agitation away and out of his system, though the fear loiters in his ribcage. The fear that the mistake he made is unfixable. And there’s no thrumming of the bass to distract it. 

What’s worse, his lower regions still ask for a release. He might not be as hard as he was, but the pressure of an ungratified arousal still palpitates in his groin. The unlit disorder of his feelings encourages the blood to pump his cock erect, slowly, and his breath quivers—as well as his body. 

The shakes are back. He knows them, intimately, from his past relationships. Feels the long-gone ghost of abandonment catching up to him—and he fears, terribly, that you’ve somehow learned its ways and you’re about to use them on him because of the way he ruined your night. Cover him from head to toe until his mind numbs and he forgets, foolishly, the direction to his home. 

To solitude. 

He lets go of you and nudges you towards his car. Lets you walk the rest of the short way. But he notices that your forehead, the place he poured his frail love upon, is smudged with blots of blood, the little stars on the arches of your brows crooked and devalued. He’s barely able to get out a cigarette out of his pack and place it in the center of his parted lips, his heart cracking and turning painfully. Though, somehow he does it—he gnites it to life, takes a big drag and hides his hands behind his back. Hides his shakes away from you. Because it’s easier to ruin yourself than it is to give. 

You don’t know about them. And in the four months he’s been dating you, he didn’t have a reason to tell you about them. Thought they were lost for all eternity, the tables turned—them forgetting about him. 

But now he realizes how naive he was. Begs his shoulder to stop trembling from the impact of his deeply-embossed issues. Wishes they were as beautiful as you when you gaze back at him with the weight of your love and he feels it, swiveling to lean against the side of his car. 

It’s a life jacket that straps him down. Abates his shakes. And he’s able to take another drag, pursing his lips in a small ‘O’ when he exhales the smoke, so it doesn’t get near you. 

Your hands are behind your back, too. They support your tailbone against the solidness of the vehicle. It reminds him that he’s glad he hurt the guy, but now he wishes that you weren’t such a delicious brat because he could’ve made you happier and pinker with the amount of orgasms he would’ve given you. Would’ve driven you home and washed you clean. Would’ve made you a late night snack to bed and held you while you replayed the songs in your head. 

Nevertheless, it’s him who needs to be held. 

Foolish, his sensitivity. Another thing you don’t know about. And he’s not too sure, at this very moment, if he’s able to let you in this closely. Let you hold him and stop, ultimately, his shakes. The fear of possibly letting that happen, only to get left behind after, paralyzes him on the spot and even though he can’t breathe, he still manages to flick the ash off his cigarette and puff on it, desperately. Needs the smoke to hold him down, mollify the raging disorder in him—the macrocosm that is too gritty and stony for your delicate feet. 

He allows a full, audible sigh to leave him and he hangs his head, but he shouldn’t have done that. 

Because he divulged to you how fucked up he is. 

You lift a hand to him. “Come here, Oppa.” 

But he can’t. He can’t get close. His legs are numb and the thick-soled boots his feet are shod in are too heavy. His fear keeps them planted that safe distance apart. And Jungkook plays it cool. Licks his lips, lifts his head and sucks on his cigarette. Feels something dripping down his jaw and he wipes his hand on the bone. His cheeks hollow out and the smoke gets in his eyes, stinging them, blurring the spots of blood on his fingers

A different type of wetness coats them now. 

“You wanna go home?” he asks, then cringes at his stupid words. The smoke makes zig zag patterns in the air as his hands shake harder. And then the breath he takes is too difficult. His chin wobbles, the tears rush in and he can’t stop it. “They’re still—” A soft sigh, a whimper. His breathing speeds up because it seems as though his lungs ask for too much air and he can’t inhale enough of it. The tears threaten to pour out and crown his fear. Ruin his life. But he keeps going as if nothing is happening. “Making hot dogs in that food stand over there. The night’s not over.”

And then he’s sobbing, sinking to his knees as his legs give out under all that weight of his issues compressing him. The cigarette burns on the concrete, as abandoned as he soon will be. And his hands feel the rough material of his jeans, needing something to bring him back to a painless reality. He’s tasting blood and the fumes of the smoke and then he sees your sneakers in front of his knees, the pink Calvin Klein shoes that he bought you last week, and he sits back, feels his head being lifted, feels himself being pushed to a point of absolute submission. 

And that’s not something he’s able to stop either. 

You sit down on his thighs, sinking your fingers behind his ears and into his hair, forcing him to look at you and he has to blink multiple times in order for his sight to clear up. Sees, while he whimpers pathetically, his bloodstained, fearful girl seeing him. The real him. The flawed, broken him. 

“Gguk, Ggukie, what’s happening? Talk to me, baby, please.” 

He only sobs. Can’t get a word out. Because you’re here and you’re going to leave him—now that you’ve seen that he’s not a half of the man you pertain him to be. That he’s weak, pathetic and emotional. That he has problems that he doesn’t like to talk about. Unresolved issues that will affect you and guide you out of his life. 

You press him to your neck, holding him to you, and you shush him, gently, rocking him from side to side. Run your wet hand up his hair on the back of his head while the other one rubs large circles on his back. The light opens wider in him—and as he listens to the lullaby of your voice, it distracts him from the fear. It stills the ringing in his ears and blesses his arms with strength that he uses, without thinking, to wrap around you. 

Something lukewarm plops onto the side of his aching cheek as he, little by little, calms down, and he realizes it’s your precious tears. The salt to his wound. 

You’ve cried too much when you should’ve been laughing so hard that you’d be sick from it. 

“What happened? Tell me.” 

Your hand caresses his bad cheek, careful around the bump that your feather-light touch traces, and it’s how he finds out it’s even there. He finds out his bleeding is from his mouth because you wipe at it and clean your fingers on your dress. And then you’re back to stroking his hair, your long fingernails scratching, tenderly, his scalp, spreading alleviation down his body. 

You’re patient and gentle, tolerant and kind, despite the fact you deserve an explanation and he’s unable to give it to you. 

It’s what makes his rationality snap back to normalcy and he tugs your dress down, withdrawing from you and helping you stand to your feet. He’s here to make your night better, not unleash his problems at you. He takes your purse dangling from your hand, replacing it with his palm, and hauls you towards his car. 

But you stay put and he bounces back to you as if he were on a leash. 

And maybe he is—because you stayed at the horrendous scene of his worst. Bound to you in a way that he’s too drowsy to comprehend. Even his fear is tired, scurrying away to some shadowed corner of his soul, instead of attacking him and remaking the scene. 

“Give me my purse back and let me buy you that hot dog,” you say, with a hint of a remarkable harshness that makes him submit to you on a higher level. Something positive that he can’t pinpoint breezes through his clavicles and he wipes his knuckles across his eyes, shyness encasing him like steel—like a shield, giving him the hope that maybe, just maybe, he can overcome this with you. 

You didn’t leave. You didn’t disappear. You didn’t wrinkle your nose. 

You held him. Cleaned the blood off his mouth. Put him, somehow, back together like a puzzle piece. Knew how to do it without needing to look at the full picture. 

He hands you the chain strap of your purse—and it’s more of a symbol of his submission to you. Of the acquiescence and the meekness that you seeped into his pores by your touch. And, oddly, he feels whole. 

His walls are broken down, but he feels whole. Confident, soft, and manly. 

Because he has you and you’re here to take care of him. 

You’re quick on your feet as you yank him by the two of his fingers. He follows behind you, but all he can look at is your pendulous, brown, leather purse, suspended from your small hand, and how that shift of the dynamic in yours and his relationship occurred by that exchange. How it’s felicitous, pretty and sturdy. How he can come back to it and remember it—if he ever wavers. Remember that it’s the cure to his shakes. 

Letting himself be taken care of by you. 

The festival has ended and the ladies at the food stand are packing up to leave. It overwhelms him how much time his issues have stolen, but when he watches you go from nice to bratty in a millisecond, convincing them to make that last hot dog from him because he feels faint and needs some greasy food in order to get home and they comply, his love for you rises sky-high. Your own expression of love for him tidies up the debris from his broken walls and he’s so warm all over that he feels as though he’ll explode. 

You pay for the hot dog and leave a huge tip, thanking them with a smile that makes his heart quiver in a way that is pleasant, good and merciful. You hand it to him and it’s another exchange that wets his eyes, that makes him dip to your mouth and give you a chaste kiss that you more than deserve. You coo, deeply, into the kiss, and it’s a sound that he’s never heard from you. A dominant, prideful sound that stirs the butterflies in his stomach that carry your name on their wings to beat so ferociously that he can’t breathe. 

In a different way now. Pleasant, good and merciful. 

You walk away from the stand and sit with him on the sidewalk. Jungkook lets you have the first bite, sliding your leg over his as he holds the hot dog to your mouth. People are exiting the amphitheater in hefty crowds, but he doesn’t care. Can’t peel his eyes off of you as you open your mouth as wide as you can and take a big bite, whining and fanning your mouth due to how boiling hot it is. He can see the half chewed up sausage on your tongue and if he didn’t love you, he’d look away now, but he can’t because he does love you and your secret, indecent ways enthrall him enough that he can’t help but to kiss you again. Kiss the ketchup and mustard off of your upper lip. Clean you up like you cleaned up his debris. Blow on the sausage in your mouth a little to make you laugh and you do more than that. You chortle so hard that you nearly choke on it and he laughs, too, strangely. 

Thinks the hot dog is the best one he has had in a long time solely because you had that first bite. 

It fuels him with energy, yet he feels lightweight. Feels as though everything’s going to be okay, despite the fact those issues in him are a persisting threat and they can be triggered anytime. But something tells him you can handle it. 

You weren’t afraid to throw your middle fingers in a guy’s face because he had a problem with your public display of affection. Weren’t afraid of Jungkook’s ugliness. Weren’t afraid to fight the ladies so you could fill up his stomach with his favorite food. 

You can handle it. 

It’s all he thinks about as he drives you to his apartment with his hand on your thigh. 

And it’s all he thinks about when he kneels before you while he takes off your sneakers and lingers there, scattering kisses just below the hem of your dress. And you know where this is going because you pull him back by his hair and as he looks up at you like this, a peasant to a queen, his heart hammers so intensively that all he wants to do is cry while he makes love to you. 

He came across his salvation—in the worst of it all. 

“Let me clean you up,” you hush out, and Jungkook doesn’t understand because you already have. Internally. And outwardly all the same. He can’t postpone this any longer. He has to give back to you, give you his gratitude on a silver platter. He needs to do it because if he doesn’t, he’ll crumble. 

“No,” he rasps in a whisper, closing his mouth over the inner of your thigh, placing a singular kiss there before he returns his gaze back to you. “Let me, please.” 

Maybe you can see his desperation in the glossiness of his eyes and it awakens your pity for him, for in a blink you nod, and for the second time today—he doesn’t hesitate to do the next thing. He fists the fabric of your dress and yanks it up over your tummy, nuzzling his nose into your clothed mound. Pink, like your sneakers. 

He inhales you. Inhales the beginning of your arousal—and the beginning of a brand new scene that will color his life in a soft manner. 

Dragging the waistband of your panties down your legs, he tosses them on top of your shoes. Yearns for your legs to part your royalty for him and in order for that to happen, he carries you, bridal-style, over to the white of his bedding. Pretends it’s clouds that he’s laying you down upon because he’s about to make sure he’ll bring heaven down to you. 

The heaven that helped him give back to you earlier in his worst. 

He hooks his fingers under your socks and slides them off, one by one. Makes you sit up to rid you of your dress. Ruins your ponytail in the process, but he quickly fixes it by lugging your hair tie down your length, rubbing his blood away on your forehead with his saliva-coated thumb once he places you back down. 

And it’s not an expression of his dominance, the way he disburdened you from the daytime. That has long ceased to exist in him since that exchange. 

It’s an expression of his servitude to you. 

Of his lessening and your heightening. 

And it’s pleasant, good and merciful. It doesn’t feel as though he’s giving all of himself. On the contrary, it feels as though he has just discovered his true self. 

He won’t forget the address of his home because he’s not staying over anywhere. 

He is at home. 

And your folds revealing your royalty as he spreads your legs is the feeling of homeliness. His mouth on your warm, swollen clit is the epitome of all domesticity and the only thing he can fear at this very moment is his future homesickness if he rips his mouth off your cunt. 

And you getting wet so easily just from being taken care of like a queen confirms and validates all that he’s feeling. 

And he lets you know. 

Peasants are savages and he eats your pussy like it. Sucks on your clit with a verve that surprises him and makes his cock tight uncomfortably in his pants, especially when you make those deep, guttural noises of yours. You’re not the soft girl he knew that omitted swear words in her favorite filthy songs. You’re a vulgar woman, rolling her hips into his mouth as he lets you use his tongue. 

And he stops—just to beg for those words. 

“Let me hear you swear for me, please.” 

You whimper, flopping into the mattress, only to raise your torso using your elbows. You grip the hair on the back of his neck and hump his mouth, but then you suck in a breath and draw back, sobered up all of a sudden. 

“Does your lip hurt?” you ask, rounding your brows in pity and Jungkook’s heart quickens at the portrayal of your care towards him. His senses flick to that faint throbbing on the side of his pierced lip and he perceives that he forgot about his physical pain. His cheek throbs as well, but it’s all bearable. 

You help him remember. 

“It doesn’t hurt, baby.” 

But the hand that gripped his hair slides over to his lip, caressing it with a thumb. “But it’s swollen. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

He also remembers that he was bleeding from the same place and he checks your folds if he spattered them. With the same digit, he runs it over them, finding no taints of it. Sends a quick, internal thank you to God. 

You’re pure—he doesn’t want to mar you. 

“You’re not hurting me. You’re saving me,” he utters without a breath, the words more raw than anything he’s ever said to you, alongside his first, secretly sensitive I love you. And while he doesn’t let his lungs lift, you inhale all of the air for him, wafting it over him as you pout ever so slightly. And then you caress him—the good side of his face and he does something he’s never expected to do. 

He invites you in. 

Rests his head on the apex of your thigh while you continue to brush your hand in circles. Over his cheekbone, his temple, long strands of hair and ear. An ouroboros of love so unsullied and intact that the world’s upcoming destruction could never afflict it, never even come near it. Jungkook pushes your leg back and darts out his tongue. Mirrors your circles over your clit and the gentleness he uses to do it with pull such alluring moans from the bottom of your throat that he’s nearly at the peak of his own orgasm. 

And it just makes him hungrier. 

He turns you over to your side and closes that leg of yours over his head. Flattens his tongue over your clit and eats it like his life depends on it, one hand holding yours while the other slips to your heat, rubbing the hole until you go mad. And he’s not holding your hand to keep you bound. He’s holding your hand to keep his sanity and not come in his pants like a boy. 

You move your hips so his fingers enter you and you scream out at the sudden fullness. Jungkook drips in sweat, your walls slowly stretching around him sending tingles down his spine, and he’s moaning when you fuck yourself on his digits. 

It doesn’t take long for you to come. 

It is the final piece to your own puzzle and your orgasm thunders through you, the swear words tumbling out of your mouth like refreshing raindrops. You interweave them into his name, adorning it, making it prettier, and Jungkook is so overwhelmed with pleasure that all he can do is suck on your clit until you convulse so hard that you can’t take it anymore.

You may have lost your spark earlier, but now that you’ve come so magnificently, you’ve become it. The star of light isn’t something that gets attached to your eyes whenever you’re happy anymore. 

You’re the queen of all firelights and constellations. 

He lets you lie on your side as he hauls himself up to face you. He touches your skin besprinkled with the beads of perspiration, kneading the fleshy parts and ending up at your neck. Your eyes are closed when he reposes his head on his pillow besides yours and he detects his pleasure creating a new kind of joy within him, one that etches a lopsided smile on his face. 

You said the words for him while your orgasm coursed through your body. He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Thank you,” he whispers against your lips, kissing you with a certain roughness that makes you whine and withdraw. You give him a playful dirty look, fragrant with your love, and Jungkook’s smile deepens. 

“Gentle,” you reprimand, fluttering your eyes back shut. “Don’t be a masochist.” 

He laughs through his nose, his heart constricting, and he kisses you with the gentleness you spoke of just to show you he can do it. 

You hum in appreciation and Jungkook thinks this must be the best day of his life, despite all. 

“There we go,” you praise, sleepily. “Gentle, so your boo-boo doesn’t hurt.” 

He caresses your face in circles in your fashion, watches you visibly relax and your eyes close all the way, your eyelashes brushing against him. His sleep-kissed queen. 

“You wanna sleep?” he asks, fondling the shell of your ear. He doesn’t mind if you’re too tired to take him; he’s willing to study the way your mouth parts and lets out long, restful breaths as you drift off to dreamland. 

He thinks it would be an honor. 

Everything had changed. The way he sees you, the way he loves you, the way he senses yours and his connection. The pupils of his eyes have been purified and he’s acknowledging himself with the ins and outs of his own relationship. 

Everything is new. 

You shake your head, humming out a sound of disagreement. “No, give me a second. You made me come really hard.” 

He nods, even though you can’t see him, and he sifts his fingers through your hair. Trails his kisses from your cheek to your neck and shoulder, dwelling there as you recuperate from your intense orgasm.

And then you’re swinging your leg over and straddling him. Your lids are so heavy from your little eye-shut that he silently coos at you, but your tiredness doesn’t stop you from mouthing kisses down his mesh-clad chest. From unbuckling his belt and freeing him from his pants. The mesh shirt is the only thing you keep on him. You bunch up its hem in your fist, stabilize his cock with your other and you swallow him. 

Not all the way, though. 

You rid him of his sanity because you pop your mouth, over and over, on the tip of his manhood. He feels the sound deep in his groin, right beneath your hand, and his chest can’t help but to shudder with each suction, his face scrunching. He unabashedly whimpers for you and you like his noises so much that you give him what he never asked you for. 

You do take him all the way. 

And your throat is your scent floating through the air of yours and his home. 

Heady, oriental and feminine. 

You slobber all over him, running your tongue sideways upon the veins along his length and Jungkook slinks in and out of his conscience. The pleasure you’re blessing him with brings him to a rose garden when you gag around him. The pink petals tickle his stomach, encouraging his shudders, and all he sees is you in the middle of that garden. A mighty statue of its queen—with a mouthful of cock. 

And then he has to physically pull you away from him because if he felt the tightness of your throat one more time, he’d be spurting ropes of cum down your esophagus. 

You’re feral, staring him down with a maddened smile, returning to your original position on his hips. And as delighted as he is to have you be in charge, he remembers something. 

He hasn’t put a condom on. 

“Wait.” 

Jungkook holds your waist as he rummages in his bedside table and once he finds the package he was looking for and rattles it, he finds it empty. Cold sweat trickles down the back of his neck, but he remembers something else as well. 

“Did you not put it in your purse?” he asks, the scene where he hands you the last square of the rubber for you to keep in your purse in case you get in the mood during the festival shooting out before his eyes. 

You nod. “Yeah, I think so. Can you go get it?” 

He sits up with you and kisses you, gently, prolonging the kiss until you whine and he thinks twice before provoking you. He can’t help it—you just keep saving him. 

Walking through your corridor, he sees your pink sneakers first, embellished with your panties of the same color. A smile tugs at the aching corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t mind. Thinks it heightens the experience. Bending to pick up your brown purse that he set beside your shoes, the time seems to slow down as he’s reminded of the exchange out there in the countryside. The shift of dynamics that liberated him. Jungkook grows emotional, his feelings liquifying and prickling his eyes. 

And it’s automatic and absolutely instinctual—the way he dips his mouth and kisses the leather material. 

Gently. 

Opening it, he fishes out the white square and hangs your purse on the hook among his jackets. Gives it a long, meaningful look before he returns to you. 

And you’re the one who wants to put it on him. You’re so diligent, tugging the peak of the rubber multiple times so you’re unequivocally certain that you did it right. And when you tug him, he whimpers so inferiorly that you emulate his hunger. 

You depict it so eloquently when you fight through your residual overstimulation and sink down on him, little by little. And the more inches your walls squeeze around, the more his new role settles within him. 

Peasant with his queen. 

You ride him like it. 

You bounce on him with such hard thuds that it provokes the pressure in his groin. His balls tighten so rapidly and the cinematic view of your breasts slapping against each other doesn’t really help slow down the incoming explosion of his orgasm. A glistening ring forms around his cock from your slick—and Jungkook genuinely considers, right here, right now, buying you a promise ring that will be an eternal reminder of this sublime salvation. 

And you’re as aware of the shift as he is because once you reposition your weight onto your feet, you pin his hands back and use them as leverage. Intertwine your fingers with his. His vision gets filled with spots of white. You clamp down on him with each stroke and even though he can’t move, he feels unshackled. There’s no ending to his moans. He’s so close, the pressure deepens in his groin, and he needs one more thing. 

One more thing and he’s done. 

“Kiss me,” he rasps, and you slow down, crying out, your orgasm catching up to you just the same, but he needs your attention, so he begs. “Please, baby. Kiss me.” 

Lowering yourself onto your knees, you lean forward. “Fuck, I love it when you beg. I’d give you anything you ever wanted.” 

His stomach spasms. Your nipples sail over his chest and you shudder, the mesh fabric stimulating you, and then you’re swirling your tongue around the arc of his open mouth. 

Teasing him, like the vulgar, bratty woman you are. 

Extra careful around the lip ring and his swollen flesh, healing it in a way. 

Jungkook whines your name. “Please.” 

You kiss him just once, but he needs more. Lifts his head off the pillow, chasing your mouth. You begin to swirl your hips in circles on the tip of his cock, just like your tongue, and the intense pleasure he gets from it forces him to bang his head back. 

You go for his neck. His collarbone. His nipple. 

And Jungkook can’t hold back anymore. 

His orgasm bursts in his groin and all the roses in the garden swell with freshness. He imagines he’s filling you up, instead of the condom and it elevates the momentous shocks of the explosion descending down all of his nerve endings. He hiccups and that’s it for you. You let go of his hands to massage your clit and you follow him out into that garden, his name and curse words trickling out of your mouth that lowers to his in a final, years-long kiss. 

His last rope oozes out of him at the feeling of your soft, wary tongue and he wants to weep due to the density of your care. More shrubs of roses bloom around your statue in that garden—and once again, he can’t peel his eyes off of you. 

Can’t stop brushing your hair back to see more of you. More of your rose-flushed complexion. More of the spark of your being that irradiates you from within. More of your care and love. 

And you give it to him. 

You wash out the dried blood on his face in the shower. Brush his teeth with extra care, which makes it more than difficult for him to stifle his tears. He lets you be a witness to his sensitivity and you welcome it, cradle it, hold him while the toothpaste foam numbs his achy lip. And it scares his fear away, most peculiarly. 

You hold him in bed, too, amidst the crisp, flower-scented linen of his fresh bed sheets, and you apologize. 

“I’m sorry for what happened tonight. If I hadn’t said a thing, you wouldn’t have ended up bruised and swollen,” you croak out, shifting the cold compress lower on his face, and you break into tears that trigger his. He had wished you weren’t a brat, but for a far different reason, and he tells you. 

“It’s an honor to get punched in the face for you.” He smiles through his tears and you sigh, removing the cold compress. “But I did wish things ended differently. I wanted to fuck you in my car. Keep the window open so you would hear your favorite rapper. But if things went according to my plan, you wouldn’t have healed me.” 

You sniffle, your eyes rounding at the onrush of your tender emotions, and Jungkook watches the waterfall of your tears. His own flows and mingles with yours, joining in unity. 

“What happened to you when we left?” you ask and Jungkook knows he wouldn’t avoid this question for long. Deems you deserve to know because of all what you’ve done for him. And he readies himself, pausing before he bares himself, fully, to you. 

“I got into panic mode because I blamed myself for ruining your night and…” he trails off, aware of the fact he needs to be more specific, and he takes a deep breath, wiping his tears with one hand before slapping it back on the duvet. “I have a constant fear that the people I care for will eventually leave me,” he explains and a wisp of pride envelops his bones for managing to get those words out for the first time in his life. You snuggle closer to his side, placing your head on his shoulder, and he gazes down at you. His fingers find your ear on their own and it comforts him enough, to touch you like that, that he’s able to continue. “I got left behind a lot of times in my past, which is why I swore off love. It just hurt too much and I stopped having the capacity for it. And when we left the concert, I thought you’d leave me, too, after what I’d done.” 

You press the cold compress back to his cheek. “I could never leave you, you’re mine,” you whisper, and another stream of tears soaks through the dish towel wrapped around frozen vegetables. Jungkook doesn’t take your words for granted. He puts great meaning to them and hides them, safely, in his sternum. “And you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t ruin my night. It was all me and for that I’m sorry.” 

He squeezes your arm. “Don’t be sorry,” he says and means it. Lifts his head and plants a cold kiss to your lips. 

Gentle. 

“I love you, Ggukie. It’s me who should be fighting for you now.” 

Jungkook laughs through his nose. “No, I’ll keep protecting my queen.” One more kiss, gentler. “I love you,” he adds and means it. 

And he falls asleep like this. With you clinging to the side of his body while keeping the cold compress intact and unmoving with your forehead. One that he removes in the middle of the night and warms up the iciness of your skin by smothering it with his body heat. 

Returns to the rose garden and gapes at the statue of you, hand in hand with you—as a changed person, a sensitive, flawed and submissive person that is loved and accepted. 

Finds it hard to believe even in his dream. 

And you’re there when he wakes up. 

Drooling, indecent and vulgar as you are. And he wouldn’t want anyone else.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hobiberrystuff, @kam9404.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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[rosyhoneydew]

As Long As You'll Have Me

My entry for day 3 of @bucktommywhumpweek - "You act like you’re expendable. But you’re wrong." | Prompts: Abandonment issues // Forced to leave the other behind

This is pretty brief whump but hopefully it still fits the prompt :)

"Are- Are you going somewhere?" Buck asks, there's a hollow kind of deja vu setting in when he steps into their bedroom to see Tommy packing a small duffle. "You're home!" Tommy says, startling and turning to face Buck. "Yeah, Ravi picked up the rest of my shift. Said he could use the extra hours." Normally he'd walk right up to his boyfriend, kiss him hard, maybe show him exactly how much he missed him during his shift. But right now Buck can't move from the doorway. Because Tommy's packing a bag. "I, uh, thought you'd be a little while still," Tommy says, something like a guilty smile on his face. And Buck... he's not exactly sure what's going on here but he can feel his face getting hot and his heart rate speeding up. He thought things were good with them. Is Tommy not happy? Did he miss the signs? Again? "Hey," Tommy says, "you okay?" "Are you leaving?" Buck asks in lieu of a response. It comes out a little harsher than he planned, but he's focused on not doing something like crying and begging his boyfriend to stay. Tommy sighs. “I wanted to surprise you,” he says, expression softening a bit. “You remember that I call I had up near San Bernadino?”  Yes. A hiker’s mom called in when her daughter didn’t check in along the trail. She’d been out there for a few days at least. Buck remembers the look of relief on his boyfriend’s face when he got home that night, the girl dropped off at the hospital, safe and sound.  “Turns out her mom’s got a place in Big Bear and she thought it would be nice to let me vacation there for a few days, as a thank you.” “Vacation?”  “It was supposed to be a surprise,” Tommy says, smiling and making his way toward Buck. His lightly grabs Buck’s arms, about to lean in for a kiss before he stops. “Is everything alright?” 

“Y- yeah, just…” Buck takes in the room before looking back at Tommy. “You’re not leaving me?”  “Leaving you?” Tommy seems genuinely shocked by the prospect. “No, Evan, no. Why would you think that?”  “Sorry, I’m sorry,” Buck says, shaking his head like he can dislodge the thoughts that way. Tommy rubs his arms and presses a light kiss to Buck’s cheek, seemingly content to wait until Buck is ready to talk. He takes the moment to let the pounding in his heart return to normal. He's not leaving, he's not leaving, he's not leaving. “You remember my ex I told you about, right? Abby?” Buck starts. Tommy nods. “That’s how I found out, when she was going to leave you know? I came home - I was living at her place then too - and her stuff was all in suitcases.” He pauses for a moment, remembering how he had believed her when she said it was just a trip. That she would be back for him. “At the time she had planned to come back, you know? Then she, umm, she didn’t.”  Tommy’s looking at him like his own heart is breaking, and, shit, the last thing he wants is for Tommy to feel bad when he was just trying to plan a surprise for his boyfriend. 

"I know you're not her," Buck clarifies quickly. "I just- I think I saw you packing and I didn't know where you were going and it kind of took my brain a second to catch up."

“Evan, I am so sorry,” Tommy starts. “I had no idea this would stir up those memories for you.”  “Don’t apologize,” Buck says. “Of course you didn’t know. You were just doing something nice.”  Tommy reaches up to rest his hand on the nape of Buck’s neck, softly brushing his thumb there and leaning his forehead against Buck’s.  “I am not leaving you,” he says. “I will never leave you.”  Buck huffs a little laugh at that, because, well, “You say that now.”  Tommy leans back a bit to look Buck in the eye, “Evan,” he says, “I love you, and so long as you’ll have me, I will never leave you.”  Oh. He means… is he saying… Buck lunges forward to wrap Tommy in a kiss, passionate and full of feeling. Tommy's right there to catch him, arms wrapped around him, letting Buck set the pace but never faltering at his intensity. “Let me try this again,” Tommy says with a smile when they part. “Evan, would you like to spend the weekend together in Big Bear? Just the two of us.”  “Yes,” Buck says, only able to peel his eyes away from Tommy’s lips for a moment to say, “I love you.”

[aaabatteriez]

candid sanji (in love) ᯓᡣ𐭩

⁺˖ not a writer btw just madly in love with sanji and in love with the idea of sanji being in love ☝️

ᡣ𐭩₊˚.⋆⁺₊ ,,

since sanji is naturally flirty towards any young beautiful woman that walks by hes probably become very used to how hes normally treated by women / how he himself sees them.

like whenever he makes advances hes used to getting turned down or not rlly taken seriously but hes ok with that cuz sanji is number 1 ladies man. all he wants is to see women plural, hes not rlly a man who wants to settle down (not including wci that was lowkey forced marriage). hes a little bit of a player right? like hes a flirt to everyone not just one person.

but i think what would happen to sanji when he meets and gets to know someone and he realises that his feelings for that one person wasnt "wow you're pretty i wanna flirt with you too" but instead "i think i'm madly in love with who you are as a person and you're so beautiful that I will glady lay my heart out for you right now and spend the rest of my life with you and only you and id want nothing else" it genuinely scares him.

like he is TERRIFIED.

hes sure hes said something along those lines to other girls before.. but has he actually felt the weight of those words?? the burden of a heart that is so willing to be given to another?? not until now.

but that fear (AHHH!! AHH!! i was sooo scared!!!) doesnt compare to how he'd feel when that person tells him they would like all of that and would be willing to do the same for him.

dont misunderstand now, hes really really happy BUT HES ALSO SHAKING IN HIS BOOTS BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK??? 😭😭 ARE U FR??

he doesnt know what to do because no one has ever felt that way towards him before, and he hasnt felt this strongly about someone else before either

hes so happy but so so scared he's going to mess this up so he tries extra hard to be his usual self, the smooth talking romantic he always is

but it totally backfires cause all of his senses are heightened to the max and hes so fleeping nervous he cant think straight

charisma?? what is a charisma.

all his previous flirty remarks and witty pickup lines?? OUT THE WINDOW. hes tripping all over his words and there's a big ol lump in his throat that wont go away no matter how many times he gulps down hard and coughs

doesnt know what to do with his hands

instead of the smoothly rizzed up buttery sexy tone sanji puts on when he speaks, he sounded like a squeaky door hinge and at the same time he also sounds like hes sick with the flu

insert random silence

so fucking awkward. awkward silence. awkward punchline.

doesnt know what to do with his hands x2

forgets how to hold someone

is this okay?? is this really okay?? (as his hands are visibly shaking)

no cause his lovely lady would have to do all the initial physical contact and flirting before he can finally be an alpha and be a man and take initiative

again he just didnt wanna mess up

hes so worried about that person losing interest in him that he tries to act as his very best but it falls flat from feeling insecure / fear (ahhh!! ahh!! ok sorry ill stop)

abandonment issues!

oh he probably got real drunk and cried himself to sleep too aft messing up trying to flirt for the 1010929292938399th time

a lil bit of a pathetic man

but one who doesnt give up HES READY TO TRY AGAIN!!!

fails x2

₊ ⊹

・゜゜・．・゜゜・・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

[conflictofthemind]

I love the post that took the rounds again a week or two back discussing how much more "being gay" and internalized homophobia is a theme for Will than it is for Mike. It's things like this that make me such a neutral party on the "gay vs bi" debate.

I'll try to word it in a way that makes sense. My real opinion is that Mike's arc with sexuality is a lot more symbolic than it is material. That post does go into a lot of it. For Will, his sexuality is directly brought up by both friends and strangers, and he must ask questions like "will my family disown me for liking another boy" and other things that are basically only about being gay.

For Mike, his arc is wrapped in metaphor - understandably, since he is less visible and his feelings are meant to be a plot twist. But I think even as it's revealed, it will be written differently than Will.

Its like, "how do we explain sexuality in a way that is understandable to every viewer" (Mike) versus "how do we represent a specific experience to the queer community" (Will).

Saying this as a Will fan who also wishes people would understand Will better, I wish people (especially Mike fans who should know better) would understand the scope of Mike's character and how it informs what he does!!

He basically spent the entire last season whisper-screaming for help, but this has still flown everyone heads who still believes his biggest struggles are liking men and not liking El primarily because she is a girl, no deeper reasons here.

Mike's acceptance and/or realization of his sexuality is so wrapped up in other things that are crucial to his character. To the point you can't address one without having the whole house of his personal issues fall apart. It's an arc about personal acceptance - not specifically for liking boys, but for daring to step out of the suburban nuclear family dream, for not rushing to abandon his desires that seem 'childish' to others, knowing that his worth goes past what he can provide. Not feeling inadequate.

His relationship with El not just failing because he is (possibly / probably) unable to reciprocate her attraction but because they are deep down incompatible individuals, beyond sexuality. They don't have much in common. El's power brings out Mike's lack of. Mike is only able to connect with her in situations of danger, when his previously stated mental health crises are triggered, not everyday life.

Disclaimer of course that this is not a hard black and white line, and Will's struggles with his sexuality are also tied into his character flaws. But not in the same magnitude. I also think Mike will face the material reality of his feelings and being gay in the time period, but again, not to the same magnitude as Will's arc emphasizes.

[pseudophan]

nora can i just ask… WHAT was he thinking? how was that lie ever going to work when they were doing everything so publicly in 2009? sure you can delete stuff but he must have known it was still out there anyway right? isn’t it pointless to be like i didn’t watch his videos when he was commenting on the interactive adventures like his life depended on it ?? he was trying to convince people he just happened to be in manchester one day with a friend and he just saw phil ???? when we all saw you counting down the days to meeting each other online like WHAT

https://x.com/pinofdnp/status/1855973085771387187?s=46

tweet link (it's one of the infamous 'we met through a mutual friend' claims)

to be fair to them both, if the phandom wasn't as unhinged as it was (is) they could've gotten away with that lie. kind of. dan and phil are hardly pr experts but this isn't really too crazy a move, like yeah the people who know the truth will always know the truth but if you tell a lie enough times then in theory new fans, and people who just never looked into it, are gonna go with your version of events and not question it. the main issue for dan and phil specifically was that their fanbase was essentially built on and around speculation about their relationship and cataloguing any and all proof of it. new fans and casuals often believed the lie at first just because like, why wouldn't they, but the second they stepped foot into the phandom they obviously discovered the not-so-hidden truth, because you didn't have to be a shipper or be looking for Phan Proof in order to come across it, all you had to do is search dan and phil on literally any website with a prominent phannie presence

to their credit they seemed to realise it wasn't gonna work pretty quickly, they abandoned the 'mutual friend' story almost immediately it feels like. then they went with the 'yeah we met online but we met up to collaborate' angle but i kind of feel like they didn't go too hard on that one, probably because they had finally started to learn that Oh My God Say Less Please Say Less Always Say Less Stop Talking Jesus Christ. like by far the most damning part of the clip in the tweet is dan insisting on being like "a lot of people seem to think-" about the actual truth like girl why would you plant that idea in the heads of those who hadn't heard it before. just say you met through a mutual friend and move on like fbsdhjfbdjksf. also at that point they kinda didn't give a fuck anymore, by the time they gave that infamous editing tips interview in 2015 they had long since abandoned trying to convince anyone they didn't meet because dan was an amazingphil fan and desperately wanted to befriend him because of it. the only part they were trying to hide at that point i would say was the whole y'know, fucking and sucking of it all

this whole reply is way too rambly and idk if it makes sense but i guess my point is IF dan and phil had a more casual core viewerbase (and also didn't give up on the lie immediately. and dan was less blatantly defensive about it) they probably could have made it work in the long run, even with the amount of evidence against it. i would go as far as to say that if not every then at least nearly every single influencer/celebrity/public figure of any kind have readily available information about them out there that most people, even fans of theirs, don't know about literally just because they wouldn't think to search for it. like how often does a Major Scandal break about some celeb and some people in the comments are like yea this has been known since 2004 everyone just stopped talking about it, lmao. not that dnp being gay for each other is a scandal but you know what i mean

basically they started telling that lie just as their popularity skyrocketed and i guess the hope was that the massive influx of new people would allow them to rewrite history, but alas...

[rere9500-18]

Miles and his abandonment issues/not wanting to be alone.

Something I’ve always thought about Miles was that he has abandonment issues. This clip here is only a scene that shows apart of that.

Gwen’s “I’ll never see him again” makes him panic, with not seeing her or Peter or anyone of his spider friends for a year or so now. Hearing that from Gwen alone probably is what mainly encouraged him to jump through that portal and follow her. Because if that portal closed, there’s a big possibility he’d really never see her again.

Even in the second half of the video where Miles is walking to his dorm/new school and he walks past his old school with everyone he knew chatting it up with him as he passes. It’s clear while Miles attended that school, he’s been friends, or at least acquaintances, with a lot of the people there. He has and still does leave an impact on them, if it wasn’t noticeable by the amount of people simply happy to see him walk by.

At the end of it, the last girl asking how the new school is and that they all miss him, Miles responds with a “Wait… you miss me?” with a smile on his face. Now, I’ve seen some of the comments on that bit on YouTube and it’s mostly people thinking it’s Miles being cute with the ladies, but I don’t believe that’s what that was at all.

It’s clear to see Miles is cool with most people in that scene; of course keeping in mind he’s spent time with them at some point in his life if they are telling him they miss him. That little smile Miles had and the question that followed was an exact reaction to truly realizing that nobody at his old school has forgotten him, nor intend to, in theory, leave him anytime soon. It’s that warm feeling of knowing that maybe you truly do have people by your side. It’s actually a little intense with Miles since I think he sort of needs that feeling more than you’d usually need it.

Whether it be his mom, his dad, his uncle (RIP Uncle Aaron 😔), or the spiders who he thought were his friends.

That’s why it hurts so much when they’re taken away from him. Either by death or because of needing to pick a side. Because that warm feeling slowly turns into dread that no one’s by his side anymore. That the people he love may not love him anymore. That he may have to face something he’s been trying to hide from: being alone.

Because being alone means you’ll have no one to care for. Being alone means no one’s gonna give you their warmth when you’re in the freezing cold. Being alone means you’ll be left in the dark by yourself with no one to encourage you to break out and run free.

Miles followed Gwen to avoid having to be alone, like he was for the past year after she and the other spider-people left. Because, while it doesn’t make it right to follow someone and then go invisible to see what they’re doing, he wouldn’t have ever known this would have been the last time he’d see his best friend if he hadn’t followed.

At the end of the movie though, I feel that Miles is put at an even harder spot due to him trying to prevent his father’s death. He wanted to be with the rest of the spider people so badly that it blinded him to the fact it wasn’t all it seemed to be cracked out to be. At the end of the movie, all Miles wants is to go home. Yes, it hurts to lose everyone you’ve worked so hard to see, but in his mind, if the people you call your friends can’t understand that it’s fucked up to let an innocent person die, his dad no less, for a so-called ‘greater good’, then maybe that warm feeling of them being by his side isn’t what he wants right now.

Miles feels betrayed by Peter B., Gwen, and most importantly, by himself because he soon realizes that he was so determined not to lose them again, that he never realized he’s lost himself in the process. Gwen, Peter, and everyone else basically said (through their actions) that they’ll never see Miles again. Who is Miles to stop them?

He doesn’t care what happens afterwards. He just wants to go home, HIS home, and stop the one thing that will truly make him deeply and utterly alone.

The death of Aaron and Miles being Spiderman only encourages Miles to want to do these things. He wanted to surround himself with people he can trust, but he soon realizes those relationships can die, either by actual death or by lies and secrets.

Idk. This is all just my view of what Miles feels even in Into the Spiderverse. If you’ve finished reading all this, idk; eat a cookie or something.

[icyg4l]

PAC: Uncovering the Lies

Which area of your life have you been lying to yourself about? In this pick-a-pile, truths that you have been scared to face will be revealed to you. If you’ve been having any doubts about a situation, have been in denial about something or do not know about deceit, then it will all be confirmed/shown here. Without further ado, pick your pile.

Left-to-Right (1-4):

Pile One: If you chose the photo of the word ‘she’, then you’ve been lying to yourself about that situationship, or should i say ‘shituationship.’ You have the tendency to put a lot of energy into relationships in comparison to the other person. You hope for that person to come around and they simply don’t show up for you the way you want to. It’s time to stop trying with this person. This could honestly go for other relationships too like with a friend or a distant family member. You’re looking for some stability, Pile One. You’re not looking for a fair weather friend or a part-time lover. You’re looking for the full package & it’s time to stop denying yourself of that love you are seeking. You’re pure-hearted but need to start acting accordingly. Get a little more strict so that you can attract the relationship(s) that you are looking for. You deserve better. And I’m not going to lie, Pile One, people are saying that you deserve better behind your back. So, put yourself in a better position, love. I pulled some oracle cards for you for some advice that you can follow and here is what was said:

“A new romantic cycle begins”

“Communication is key”

“Nothing is yet set in stone”

Cards Used: 7 of Swords, Ace of Cups, Queen of Swords, 8 of Wands, Ace of Discs, The Chariot, Knight of Discs.

Signs: PISCES, Sag, Libra, Leo.

extras: let it go by elsa. flowers by iyla. red hair. glowing skin. honey. abandonment issues. gapped teeth. upbeat song listener. open heart chakra. peace sign. bridgit mendler. ivy league. political internship. yoga.

Pile Two: If you chose the pile of the headless woman, I would say that you definitely need a break, Pile Two. You deserve to come out and play with everyone else. When was the last time you went out for a drink with some friends, huh? You’re all work and no play. You’ve been saying that you’re fine when you’re not. I sense that you’ve been a little hotheaded lately because you have no outlet for your frustrations. Please, let loose. I’m channeling the movie Daddy’s Little Girls, specifically the scene where Monty and Julia go to the local bar after she has a long day at work and they end up bonding with one another over drinks. I think that’s what you need, babe. You’re such a hard worker but you’re also an overachiever. Those go hand-in-hand just like work and play. I feel like this pile is just so serious like your tolerance for things that you once could handle has probably decreased, so you’re more irritable nowadays. With that being said, you should probably book that flight or call up that friend. You need to just wind down. I pulled some oracle cards for you and here is what was said:

“Be bold and make the first move”

“What do you need to release?”

“Hold your vision”

Cards Used: Temperance, King of Discs, King of Swords, Death, King of Wands, Page of Wands.

Signs: Virgo, Capricorn, Scorpio, Aquarius.

extras: refill by elle varner. work hard, play hard by wiz khalifa. smoke break. 22. paying close attention to the news. puffy eyes. headaches. going to bed early. miami for spring break. mean girls. stress eating. fight night.

Pile Three: If you chose the closeup of Megan Thee Stallion, then you’ve definitely gotten yourself into a sticky situation. There is some sort of pattern that you have not recognized yet and you’re wondering why this thing keeps happening to you. You feel like you cannot escape this toxic situation. One minute things are fine, the next minute, you feel like nothing can go right. Pile Three, you’ve grown accustomed to toxicity. It was taught to you as you grew up and you never really unlearned it. But I’m here to tell you that the relationship you’ve got yourself in is acting as a mirror for you to do better. Some call it a karmic relationship or a twin flame relationship. But either way, this is not meant to last for a long time. Everything will be okay as long as you choose to see things for what they are. This means attending therapy, doing the shadow work, crying, transmuting the pain into something beautiful and purging. Your situation is dysfunctional, Pile Three. But only you can get yourself out of it. I pulled some oracle cards for you and here is what was said:

“A fiery climax approaches”

“A personal issue reaches resolution”

“A time to give rather than take”

Cards Used: Page of Wands, Ace of Cups, The Tower (RX), Queen of Cups, Three of Swords, 5 of Wands, 7 of Cups, 4 of Wands (RX).

Signs: Taurus, Leo, Virgo, Aries, Cancer.

extras: chipped tooth. salt and vinegar chips. chocolate. breath of fresh air. greedy by ariana grande. twins. we belong together by mariah carey. fish and chips. wakanda forever. peppa pig. y8 games. tilapia.

Pile Four: If you chose the leopard’s paws/lady’s hands photo, then you need to stick to your word! You’ve been playing games. I feel like this pile doesn’t really believe in themselves. You’re your own biggest critic. You can be very nitpicky and judgmental or fall victim to the words of others and end up sulking because of it. You haven’t been putting in as much work to accomplish your dreams. The intuitive feeling that you get when you think of that idea — use this energy to create! Maybe you don’t have a lot of supporters around you and this is what’s preventing you from going hard. But that’s the thing, you can use the haters as your motivators. Very cliche what I just said, but it’s true. I feel that you think too much about what could be done instead of actually doing it. Don’t just talk about what you’re going to do. Be about it! You don’t even have to tell people what you plan to do. You can always keep it to yourself. That’s the best option for you anyway. Worry about the results later. You can do it, Pile Three! You got this! I pulled some oracle cards for you and here is what was said:

“Believe in the impossible”

“Nothing is yet set in stone”

“Expect powerful change”

Cards Used: The High Priestess, Seven of Swords, Justice, Prince of Swords, Princess of Cups, Strength, The Sun, Judgment, 4 of Cups.

Signs: Taurus, Virgo, Gemini, Pisces.

extras: close friends. the challengers. lorde fan. skin-to-skin contact. silver rings. LA. dynasty. pick me. time tables. clock in. red lipstick. side bangs. the game (2006). twiggy eye makeup. how high (2001).

[dzvelinaskebiyars]

Okay so this is actually too made up but anyways...

Let's say that y/n was Izana's gf for a long time, and let's say that she was in Tenjiku, and sadly, she was also there when izana was killed, and after that, she disappeared from Tenjiku and losed contact with all of the members (including Kakucho, who was her best friend)

What would happen if years after Izana's death (in Bonten) Kakucho looked for her and took her to see Mikey, who is physically the same as Izana? What would be your reaction if Mikey asked her to join bonten?

(I've been thinking about writing a fanfic about his but I just need to see how she would react to that, because I genuinely have no idea)

Oh this is such an AMAZING angst idea and I'm all here for it. Thank you so much for requesting<333

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Izana definitely wasn't best boyfriend girls would dream of but he wasn't the worst one you could have had either. Yes, he was difficult person with trust issues, fear of abandonment, jealousy issues and lack of communication skills but he loved you and you loved him.

He was everything you had ever had. Even if his morality was gray, he was the one who teached you right and wrong, the one who supported you in his own ways. He was your world.

But he wasn't thinking that way. Of course, he never trusted people easily and tried so hard to keep distance from you, scared that he'll get hurt but maybe, just maybe, he had hurt you deeply.

But having to fight the Toman the same night he realised that, he didn't really have time to talk to you.

Curse your life. If God exists, then he probably hates you with all of his heart. He wouldn't bring justice or happiness in your way because you're cursed and doomed to lose everything and everyone you love.

But...This was your last straw. You knew, you always knew that Izana cared for people deep inside his heart, but you weren't ready to see him dying like that.

No, no, no. This better be a dream. Yup, a dream. Just horrible nightmare and you'd wake up soon, Izana sleeping beside you, fine and well. But oh, what a sweet little daydream that would be.

"I...Izana?" Your voice was shaky and weaker than you'd expected it to be. His teary and glassy eyes landing on your trembling figure as you tried so hard to don't cry in front of him, you should have stayed strong for him.

The regret washed over his face as he tried to find strength to smile, to reassure you somehow. "I'm sorry..." He said, his voice even weaker than yours.

You kneeled down by his side, your hands trembling. "...For what?"

"For...Everything." He responded, reaching out his hand to hold yours. He thought you were still angry at him or hated him even, after all, he made you suffer. But if he only knew how much you loved him...Tears started pouring down your cheeks as you desperately hold his hand. "Don't leave me...Please.." You sobbed, your grip on his hand tightening. As if that'd keep grim reaper from ripping his soul out of his flesh.

He managed to give you weakest smile you've ever seen him have and his body went limp, his hand falling on the ground.

You lost the man you loved the most. Right in your arms. There was nothing you could do about it. You couldn't fight the God or grim reaper, you couldn't ask them to give him back. To bring your boyfriend and best friend back to life. Humans are vulnerable and defenseless against death. As they say, it's part of living. All we can do is move on and live our lives.

But there was no way you could move on from this. How could you? How could you forget him? How could you live a day without him?

You don't remember much from that day but you know you screamed so much until your throat started bleeding, as that was the only way to shout at God for being so cruel.

After that day, you distanced yourself from everyone, hardly eating anything and completely neglecting your health. You wanted to visit Kakucho after you heard that he's alive but you couldn't even force yourself to get up from the bed.

That's when the most depressing days started for you. But you lived. You lived instead of Izana because you knew he wanted you to live.

But for whatever reason, after 12 years, Kakucho asked you to meet up with him so you did. What you didn't expected to see was Manjiro Sano, Izana's little step-brother, looking exactly like your boyfriend.

You could swear you immediately saw the imagination of Izana staring at you when you looked at the dark eyed boy. Your eyes started watering up but you didn't let yourself cry. You were still in shock but after 12 years of thinking that you might have moved on, Manjiro's appearance brought all the memories back, all the memories that you tried your hardest to bury away.

It hurt. Your heart physically hurt. It felt so heavy that if it was an actual weight, even the heavylifters wouldn't be able to lift it.

But joining Bonten? You knew it wasn't dream of Izana, not Bonten anyway. His actual dream was to give home to orphans, to build an empire but not like this so you were quite unsure about the offer.

But you accepted it anyway, only because this way, you'd be able to see someone who at least looks like Izana. Only for him. Only to see Izana again.

Death is cruel. It doesn't give a shit about your feelings. It'll rip everything away from you but maybe, seeing Manjiro was same as seeing Izana for you, maybe you craved to see Izana in Mikey, no matter how delusional that sounded.

Mikey could have acted and appear like Izana, but he'd ever be your Izana. Izana was unreplaceable for you.

You just craved comfort from Mikey's identical look to Izana.

♡♡♡♡

Hihihi! I'M SO EXCITED TO READ YOUR FANFIC BY THE WAY! I hope you're satisfied with this<333

[reesespeanutbutterfuck]

she says, “babe, you look so cool.”

(ren honjo x reader)

told tales about your confusing relationship with the trapnest's notorious calm demeanoured guitarist, ren honjo.

content warnings: mentions of sex, allusions to sex, black stones vocalist!reader, pregnancy, mention of reader having a panic attack, mention of ren’s substance abuse, smoking, reader with avoidant attachment, ren with abandonment issues, mutual obsessiveness, mutual possessiveness, toxic relationship, miscommunication, takumi is an asshole as always, spoilers for NANA

songs: robbers - the 1975, habits (stay high) - tove lo, bonnie & clyde - DEAN, casual - chappell roan, creep - radiohead, every girl gets their wish - saint avangeline

—

you cannot explain your relationship with ren honjo.

you'd say it's... anything but ordinary.

even before he left for tokyo, he doesn’t toss you away after you have sex. like how he should.

you’d often wake up in the morning wearing one of his button ups or jackets that smell just like his musky cologne and seven stars cigarettes.

he clothed you so you won’t catch a cold.

even then, ren buys you a lot of gifts and lacy lingeries. when he notices your eyes linger longer on a vivienne westwood necklace, the next day, it’s yours. he gave you a cryptic necklace that spells venus. he worships you like a goddess, hence, venus.

his venus.

you get the cigarette from his mouth and put it on yours. he gets it back and stubs it. he's always been like that. he stubs out his cigarettes whenever you’re with him so you don’t inhale the smoke, even if you smoke too.

in amidst of the chilling dawn, you wonder, why isn’t he dating anyone and seeing some other woman that doesn’t always run away from your feelings like you do?

you tell ren to fool around with other girls and enjoy his youth.

he still doesn’t, anyway. 

he stays over at your house in the weekends and when he has to leave early he leaves you something to eat. with a note reminding you of the things he remembered in your schedule today that you told him the night before.

he cares about your well-being more than you do.

why?

why does he care so much?

everytime you have sex, your primary feeling, or so you think is always nothing but lust. desire. 

but ren… ren’s is love. 

why is he filled with this much love for you? why doesn’t he give up on you?

ren is always one call away.

remember that one night when you were having a panic attack and was breaking down? with one dial on his number, he picks up. after hearing one muffled sob from your line, because you couldn't form even a single word from weeping, he's dashing towards his car in the middle of a heavy rain with nothing but a shoulder for you to lean on.

you hate how he laughs it off whenever you insult him to stave him away from you. you don't really want to push him away, but your avoidant nature leads you to. he knows you don't mean it.

even when you saw him again after he moved to tokyo, his eyes always had a way of finding you amidst the crowd.

that night after trapnest's concert he found you backstage. everything was a blur after. you shouldn't even be here because seeing trapnest's ren honjo with black stones' [y/n] would make a lot of headlines and destroy his image, yet ren doesn't care.

why is he ready to risk everything just to keep you around?

everything happened quickly. how he pulled you to the side away where no one hears or sees, how you ended up in his house, how he hugged you for the first time after years.

“[y/n], i lo–” you cover his mouth.

“don't. don't say anything.”

he removed your hand from his mouth. “i love you.”

“i said don’t!”

“i get high just to keep my mind off you. you’re only one i want and desire. i love you. i’ve always had–” you cut him off with a kiss.

and then it so happens that one kiss turns into a passionate one, and leads to another, and another.

it was hard to stop.

he was addictive.

maybe the fact that he acts up on the way he wants you, added to the passionate warmth he ignites inside you. something no one has ever made you feel because everyday the universe reminds you you were always unwanted and that's all you'll ever be.

the following morning, you hear a soft moan from his lips while you were sitting on the corner of his bed and buttoning your clothes that were discarded on the floor last night, careful not to wake him up. when you were about to stand up, you felt ren’s hand tugging yours. he didn't say anything, he just held your hand.

“i'm sorry, did i wake you up?”

“stay…” there was something somber in ren's eyes.

“you know i can’t.”

so he lets go of your hand with a forlorn smile.

he expected it, and he understands. yet somehow, he still hopes… he hopes you would.

from there, everytime you leave in the morning after a long night of multiple rounds of sex, he hugs the sheets smittenly to pretend like you were still there. it still smells like you.

yasu and the others eventually found out you and ren were seeing each other like that again. yasu knows way more than he shows. you know he does. he knows about ren's strong regard for you. you didn't. you pretended not to.

which is why you were shocked when nobu's tongue slips and he accidentally blathers, “ren wanted you for so long. it’s crazy. all of these years and yet still you’re the only one he wants and ever wanted. did you cast a love spell on him or something?”

you think about what nobu said a million times everyday.

so much that you wish you hadn't heard it.

you once stayed in ren's unit the morning after for the first time while he went out and answered the door on takumi while wearing one of ren’s white shirts and boxers. you called ren's phone to let him know his bandmate’s here. ren told you to stay there and he’ll be coming as fast as he can. he knows you and takumi do not get along.

takumi sat across you on ren’s couch. “so, what's your relationship with him?” came his condescending question. you can tell he was looking down on you.

what, indeed?

“what's it to you?” you answered with the same monotonous tone.

the truth is, you don't have any idea either.

months continued on with you and ren in that set-up. he's still the same calm and goofy ren you knew.

he still remembers every single thing about you. your scent, your favourite food, music, everything.

then ren came with the question you're most afraid of hearing.

“what… are we?”

ren batted an eye up at you while he was hugging your torso and sitting on the bed while you were straddling his lap.

you searched for an answer.

ren took the long silence and your visible uneasiness as the same answer he got from you over the years.

“i’m always up to take this in the long run. but it’s okay if you don’t want to.” as long as you're here, with me. he buried his face on your chest and you two forgot about it.

maybe takumi was right, you’re just using ren.

he’s okay with that.

this is so wrong.

how could he be that cruel to himself?

ren still reminds you to eat. some habits die hard, no?

whenever he eats with you, he even sanitizes your hands for you, with his own hands rubbing yours to spread the sanitizer.

“stop coddling.” you snatched your hand away from him.

ren chuckles, “okay, sorry.”

he keeps an eye on you in band practices. you threaten him that if he doesn't stop distracting himself with your presence, you'll leave. he obliges, but he won’t hesitate to step in if some creep bothers you.

he's possessive of you even if he doesn't show it openly.

but you're somehow possessive of him too.

when you saw a girl touching his shoulders, you wanted to chop her hand off.

“i’ve been deprived of everything my whole life. now, even my ren?” ren overhears you talking to yourself. your ren, huh?

“i’m sorry, ren.” you pecked a kiss on his lips after you told him to date other girls after you got jealous. “will you forgive me?”

he pulls you into a hug, “it’s okay, i forgive you.” he kisses your cheek. “i never said i don’t love you anymore.” he kisses the side of your neck. “why are you giving me away, anyway? if you’re jealous, be jealous. tell me and i’ll do something about it. don’t give me away like that.” he kisses the side of your head.

such big words for someone who is afraid of communication himself, thought ren.

he’s subtly affectionate to you in public places like when he lays his head on your lap in standby backstage and one of the members of the management asks nobu if you’re dating in which nobu answers “it’s complicated.”

you always turn him down whenever he asks you to stay, but once, he said “i could never refuse you.” while patting your head and hugging you after when you asked him to stay the night.

when you woke up first, you brushed his hair up and planted a kiss on his forehead.

i love you, ren.

three words you can’t say. 

rather, words you’re afraid to say.

ren was always very open with the idea of having a kid with you. but he wouldn’t force you to.

why would he want a future with you?

takumi dislikes you, obviously. you couldn't care less about him, anyway. you hate him with the same passion. he tried to knock sense on ren one time. it didn't go as he planned.

“i see your woman’s quite a catch.” takumi puffs his cigarette.

“of course.” ren replied.

“but she's quite like a closeted harlot.”

he's wrong. you never had anyone else after ren.

ren's ears tingled and his eyes darkened upon hearing what takumi said. “are you insulting her?”

“don’t get me wrong. the way i see it, she doesn’t seem emotionally involved with you. it seems to me that you’re the only one who is in your relationship, whatever you two are. if i know, i’d say she only wants sex and not love. you’re okay with that?” takumi chuckles.

ren raises his head. “so be it. i couldn’t care less.” if that’s what it takes to keep you around him.

“i’m just warning you, dude.” takumi raises both his hands in a defensive manner. “women like that, they're for the streets–”

ren, for once lost his calm demeanour and threw a shot glass at the nearest wall. the loud sound of the glass shattering startled everyone around them. even reira who was recording a demo of one of their tracks.

ren's face was settled into a death stare. it was scarier than a face that really showed anger. his fists clenched after the burst of anger he let out and takumi was taken aback by the unexpected behavior of his usually composed bandmate.

“i don’t want to hear you talk about her ever again.” he coldly turned his back on his bandmate to go outside and calm himself down.

ren rarely gets mad. but when it's about you...

you don’t even get into fights often because ren stays out of drama and he avoids confrontations. which is why he's prone to keeping his emotions to himself instead of expressing them. he's very non-confrontational.

his desire to take your relationship to the next step was strong, but the desire to keep you around him was stronger. he knows he’ll drive you away if he mentions about tying the knot in a serious talk.

he likes using any products with your signature scent. it makes him feel like you’re there with him everywhere he goes.

“ren, you smell like white wine and strawberries, just like a girl!” was what reira told him upon stepping inside the room while sniffing him. “it leaves a scent trail. it smells familiar. what perfume are you using?”

ren turned to her, “it's [y/n]’s shower gel.”

“[y/n]? from black stones? woah, you stay at her place?” naoki stood up from his seat. ren entertained their questions for a little while.

it goes the same for you too in band practices too.

“is that ren’s perfume on you?” nobu speaks from behind you, smelling the familiar scent of his friend on you.

“no.”

“but…” nobu scans your figure. “oh. it’s because you’re wearing his shirt.”

you didn’t even smell how the shirt smelled like ren. it’s just your nostrils got so used to his scent that it didn’t even register to you how you didn’t smell like yourself.

your relationship was unstable and full of uncertainties, and you hate being emotionally vulnerable in front of anyone, even him.

sometimes, you want to leave.

“ren.”

“hm?”

but then you embrace him and suddenly, you’re reminded how strong your feelings are for ren honjo.

he stares at your face longer than he should in the morning when he wakes up first and you’re sleeping soundly next to him.

you’re beautiful. like you came straight out of a magazine.

if you were to be put beside supermodels, you’d outshine everyone. ren revels at the thought. if your face were to be featured in a magazine, he’ll frame it and keep it forever.

ren mutes all phone calls when he’s sleeping with you. but when he goes on tour, his mind is there back at home with you.

“i didn’t know booty calls worry what the other person eats. is that how people do it nowadays? so modernized, truly shocking.” came takumi’s remark while talking to reira and naoki out of ren's earshot.

“that’s so mean, takumi. leave him alone.” reira glared at him, having flashbacks of when he offended ren when he was talking to him about you. her eyes were also on ren who's on the phone with you.

you'll always come back to him, he’ll always be waiting for you to go to his arms. you two are hopeless.

more time passed and you're finally decided to take a step forward, which ren was only waiting for you to initiate.

one snowy night while you and ren were sharing each other's heat, you hovered on top of him.

ren stops you. “wait,”

“do you not want to?” you were prepared to get off him in case he doesn't want to do it, but he held you in place.

“it’s not like that. it’s just…” he trailed, “i do want a family with you more than anything. i have never denied that. but if you’re off the pill right now then…”

“so what?”

“i don’t want you to get pregnant if you don’t want to. what i say doesn’t matter. decide for yourself.”

“i want your child, inside me, ren.”

he was about to tell you to think it through again, but you put his hand on your hip. “let's start a family.”

and once again, he can never deny you of anything.

after weeks, you didn't take the news well about hachi and that asshole, takumi.

“one of these days, i’ll snatch hachi back from you.” you told him.

“are you in love with my fiancèe even after everything, [y/n]? i pity ren for being ardent with his love for you. dump him if you can’t love him back like that. he doesn’t deserve your half-assed love.” takumi smirks, enjoying how riled up he makes you while relaying the news.

you thought you were just crazy when you gone through a deep state of grief after that conversation.

but you found out another cause were your hormones.

you're pregnant.

when you told ren you were pregnant, he reacted to the news calmly yet he was ecstatic. he's been waiting for this moment with you all along.

you chose not to tell ren about the conversation you had with takumi about hachi only a few days ago that put you in distress. you know he'd do something about it, and that'll cause more problems for him.

nothing much changed for the first few weeks, you continued on with your gigs while your belly wasn't showing yet and you can still move around normally.

ren stopped his substance abuse when he learned he'll be stepping into fatherhood.

yasu always keeps a close eye on you especially whenever ren is not around, even without ren's instructions. he's always there to aid you whenever you need something, which rarely ever happens because your pride doesn't let you ask for help from anyone. yasu still insists, anyway.

nobu speaks to your not-so-showing yet belly under your edgy peplum top and tells your kid to not grow like his or her mom, you, all gloom and grumpy. he earns a smack on his head in return. he's still in a state of grief himself after how unfortunate his relationship with hachi ended up, but he's happy to be a soon-to-be-uncle to your child.

shin follows you everywhere like a puppy. he accompanies you to your walk to you and ren's shared unit and he stays over whenever he wants to. sometimes falling asleep comfortably on your lap while you watch light-hearted movies on the tv.

when you started showing, you took a break from the band for a few months but you didn't disclose your pregnancy to the media, announcing that it's only a hiatus.

when your belly started to get bigger, your clothes fitted small to you, which is why to maximize their use, you let shin have his way with your closet. you had somehow similar versatile fashion styles, anyway. because of his small frame, almost everything in your wardrobe fits him. you told him to grab whatever he wants to borrow from your closet.

ren is there every step of the way. he buys you a lot of food. whatever you need, he'll go through hell to get.

he'd give his trapnest career up if ever he gets put in a situation where he has to choose.

when you gave birth, everyone visited.

everyone... but hachi.

you try not to think about her anymore, but you still wonder about her whereabouts. you told ren and the others to stop talking about her in front of you when you were pregnant so it became a sensitive topic for everyone to talk about. and besides, you know another factor is also because takumi locks her away.

you only overheard from yasu that hachi gave birth to her child with takumi too, a few months before you gave birth to venus.

ren used to call you his venus.

your daughter’s name is venus.

venus honjo.

it's a pretty name the both of you agreed on giving such a pretty girl like your daughter.

you always opt to eat healthy while breastfeeding.

ren is a good father to venus. she's more close to her father, that's why her first word was “dada”.

he gave your daughter everything the both of you never had, and you protected your daughter from the things no one protected you from when you were younger.

you were extra gentle with her because you too, were a little girl once, and she doesn't have to go through the same pain you went through during girlhood.

ren got deja vu when he was coddling venus and she snatched her arm from him.

“i kept praying she wouldn’t take after you. i guess her mama’s genes are stronger as expected.” ren laughed after what just happened. the engagement ring on his finger shining under the morning sunlight made you look at yours.

you ended up with him after everything.

and yet the words to describe your relationship with ren honjo are still nowhere to be found.

'she’s an angel,

a goddess.

my goddess.

like venus.

a beauty.'

***

© reesespeanutbutterfuck 2024, don't forget to support your creators by reblogging !

[nymph-ette111]

hiiiiiii!! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) could you do a simon cof x sweet, feminine reader headcannons? made my own headcannons to share with you because ily and i love this prompt(⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠)

♡ i imagine reader and simon would go out, hes wearing the same crusty ass grey hoodie while shes dressed up all cute and pretty >.<

♡ he reeks of nicotine while she smells like neapolitan marshmallows<3 hes obsessed with her scent. he literally loves using her bodycare/haircare products over his 3 in 1 men shampoo (if he even showers that is) because he'd smell more like her.

♡ she shares absolutely everything of her purchases. she'd do little mini hauls to Simon, showcasing her new pink ballerina flats, sugarbunnies plushie she had to fight a war for in mercari, too faced chocolate bar palette, cute japanese stationary, and a lot of new clothes. Simon loves it. he loves seeing her happy. (may even buy her things he thinks she would love if he didn't have a smoking addiction<3)

♡ she doesnt only share that though she also loves talking his ears off about anything and everything<3 at first he was annoyed with her constant talking but when he spoke of it, she stopped talking so much and he got guilty and missed her overtalking. he tried to bring her spark back in talking and it worked

♡ shes compassionate and kind, understanding his struggles (but not condoning his actions) and helping him to get better. (he really wants to be saved by her but feels that he just cannot.)

♡ he really doesn't get why she's with him. Hes depressed, miserable, and difficult to be with. His low self esteem sometimes gets the best of him and he starts believing that he's not worthy of her, often leaving her on read, missing her calls, and ignoring her. (im sensing attachment issues) reader clutches w communication though :3

♡ they'd explore abandoned buildings. Simon's there to smoke blunts while readers there to get awesome fit pictures<3 they would go a long way travelling and reader the most practical girl you know has her feet hurt from walking on platforms. they either take lots of breaks or Simon just carries her on his back (unlikely)

♡ talk about taking fit pictures, Simon's technically her photographer. She has a blog where she posts fashion and besides the mirror pics, Simon's always the one taking the pictures. He's quite good at it too.

some of these headcannons probably won't work in his time but who cares(⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ) hope this prompt isnt that hard to write for..(⁠ᗒ⁠ᗩ⁠ᗕ⁠)you can always ignore if you want!! thankkkkkk you x3 xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxxooxoxoxox

WARNINGS; MENTIONS OF SMOKING, MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION

AUTHOR'S NOTE; WHOEVER REQUESTED THIS JUST KNOW I LOVE YOU!!! probably inaccurate for both the character and the timeline... listen, I don't know what swedish people were up to in 2012 leave me alone. also not very happy with this, still trying to figure out how to write Simon :3

-he looks comically out of place in your room. just imagine a pastel pink room filled to the brim with cute plushies, shelves full of little trinkets and books, floral bedding and lace curtains. a wall full of movie posters, magazine pages, and little polaroids of your most treasured moments, and then there's a depressed smoke addict.

-you know those videos where it's a boyfriend sleeping in their girlfriend's girly room with a bunch of plushies on top of him? yeah, basically same situation.

-his sleep schedule is fucked up. either he pulls an all nighter or is passed out till 3 pm. when it's one of those times where Simon feels tired, you just let him sleep in your bed whilst you do whatever.

-it's also a great opportunity to gather the perfect pictures for black mailing.

-he just looks so stupid in your room I love him.

-doesn't care about your plushies but will learn to treat them nicely after you yelled at him for 15 minutes straight about how it's unacceptable to throw rilakkuma off the bed just so he could sit down.

-punches the plush when you aren't looking.

-he definitely gives you that pink hello kitty hoodie to wear. or he wears it instead so you two could match. that's probably your idea and he obliges because it's something you love and enjoy.

-really like the idea of him being your personal photographer. he's always the first to leave a like on whatever you post, especially if it's he who took the picture.

-doesn't know anyone besides you. his followings on social media just contain a bunch of his favorite bands and your account.

-a bit sad but I can see him borrowing your money (with permission) to buy cigarettes if his mother refuses to give him any. he wants to buy you stuff you might like but he's too busy spending it on his addiction :(

-he instead draws you your favorite characters so you can put it on the wall alongside your other pictures.

-has never been in the vicinity of a woman without being an awkward shit. moral of the story he doesn't know anything about girls. his knowledge of things is pretty vague, so please don't be surprised if you see him just poking around your vanity and asking a million different questions on what certain products do and why.

-his mother is very happy her son finally found a girlfriend. she approves of you and thinks you're an absolute sweetheart. always asks Simon when you will visit them again.

-you two definitely earn a few stares in public because how did such a sweet and pretty girl end up with a guy like Simon.

-it pisses him off endlessly but can't help his thoughts and feelings. thinks he doesn't deserve you or any of the kind shit you do for him.

-like nonnie said, he probably isn't the greatest boyfriend... there are times where he cancels your hang-outs without further explanation or simply doesn't acknowledge any of your calls and messages. he feels pretty shitty after it and apologizes for his behavior. you forgive him even though you both know he'll do it again.

-he is low-key obsessed with your smell, he smothers anything you have in the shower all over his body without caring what it's for, just simply reads the labels and puts it on... with big amounts. this man is making you go bankrupt. you could literally see the outline of his fingers left in the product..

-his camera is full of pictures of you, he likes looking at them when he feels down. which is pretty often.

-shows you all of his favorite places in Stockholm or even Kirkvile (where does this man live I don't get it) ones that aren't usually full of people, just overly adventurous teenagers from time to time. something tells you that you two have trespassed into private property multiple times but Simon doesn't want to answer that question clearly.

-ugh imagine clipping cute little hair clips into Simon's hair and he just lets you do whatever you want because if you're happy then he is happy and he wants to see you smile :(

-in exchange, you let him do corpse paint on your face.

[kiennjio]

I saw some discussion on Kohane "not doing enough" for An some time ago and I wanted to provide my own opinion on it, so here it is!

I think the idea of Kohane not doing enough for An came from Kohane not noticing or doing anything about An's abandonment issues and insecurities. Personally, I don't think this means Kohane didn't do enough for An.

Firstly, An has the tendency to hide her true feelings. Whenever Kohane asked her if she was alright, An would reply with "I'm fine" or something to that effect even if she wasn't. It wouldn't be nice to just force her into telling the truth.

Secondly, Kohane trusts An completely. In Awakening Beat, Kohane still lacked the confidence in herself and her singing, so An told Kohane to just trust her, because she believed in Kohane.

🎧: Let's believe in what Shiraishi An has to say, the girl who absolutely loves the way you, Azusawa Kohane, sing! I understand how it's hard for you to believe in yourself, but it's easy for you to believe what I'm saying, right? No matter what happens, I, Shiraishi An, will always believe in your ability to sing.

After that, Kohane was able to believe in herself, because An did too. So, when Kohane noticed that An was acting off, she asked her if everything was fine, and when An said that there was nothing wrong, Kohane just left it at that. This is not exactly because Kohane trusted that An was telling the truth, but because Kohane trusted that An would tell her everything when she was ready, and was confident that An had the ability to solve whatever was bothering her on her own otherwise. That's why I think Kohane never tried to help An with her abandonment issues―Kohane believes that An would confide in her when she was ready. As seen in Whip the Wimp Girl, An finally tells Kohane everything she had been feeling and Kohane was glad to have understood.

There's also the possibility that Kohane just...never realised. I mean, most of the time An felt insecure was right after Kohane did exceptionally well in an event, so it would be perfectly reasonable for Kohane to want to celebrate her performance and feel happy about it, not noticing that An was acting off.

Besides, I think it's important to take into consideration how Kohane views An. Kohane thinks An is the best partner that always makes her heart pound, always cool and passionate, and will always remain by her side. So it might have never occurred to Kohane that An felt that one day she may not be able to make Kohane's heart pound and Kohane will leave her. Why would An, when she was perfect in Kohane's eyes? This is also addressed in Whip the Wimp Girl, when An told Kohane that she was afraid that Kohane would think she was uncool because of her weaknesses, so An hiding her feelings from Kohane in particular was completely intentional.

🎧: I was afraid that you'd be disappointed, seeing such a lame side of me...

However, Kohane always thought that An was perfect, even with her flaws. (An knows that, too.)

🐹: ...! I'm not disappointed...!

🎧: Yeah. I know. You would never think something like that, Kohane.

Kohane wants to be the best partner for An. To Kohane, doing that is to trust An and to always be there for An.

On a slightly unrelated note, I want to explain how I think An's anxiousness developed and changed over time.

In Awakening Beat, everyone realised Kohane's potential, and that's when An really feared Kohane was leaving her behind for the first time. At that time, Kohane only had untapped potential and hadn't quite reached An's level yet. An thought, "Kohane may leave me if I'm not good enough", and started to work even harder to keep ahead.

Then, in Kick it Up a Notch, Kohane made another leap in her growth, and at that moment, An thought Kohane looked like Nagi, the person she had been looking up to for her entire life. That's when An started to think, "Kohane will leave me because I'm not good enough". No matter how hard she worked, An felt that she would never be able to reach Kohane's level.

In Awakening Beat, An said that she believed in Kohane. Did she really, in the same way Kohane trusted her? An has trust issues from her childhood, when RADder repeatedly broke their promise to spend time with An because they were busy with work. Thus, An didn't fully trust Kohane―she believed in Kohane's ability to sing, but didn't completely trust her as a person, even though they were partners. That's why An took such a long time to tell Kohane her true feelings.

That's all I have; thanks for reading!

[bidisasterevankinard]

I love that both times, in 7x1 and in 7x10 Buck couldn't fix situation between Eddie and Chris. Because it's not his to fix. Both times the center of the problem it's only between Eddie and Chris: their family and their connection to Shannon. It's no one else's business to fix it. It's only on two of them. And first time Eddie takes matters in his hands after he tried to run from it, passing it to Buck, and I love that even Ryan said it doesn't add maturity to Eddie.

Eddie though Buck can fix it for him, he tried to pass it to person, who he wants to believe could do it, so he shouldn't deal with it. But Buck couldn't. Because Shannon and her ghost in Diaz family it's not his to touch or talk about. He barely knew her.

And ok first time Eddie dealt with situation by finally passing Chris Shannon's letter so Chris could see his mom's reasoning to leave them. And he thinks that situation was fine because Chris put Shannon's photo back and stopped date all the girls. But he missed that the problem was deeper. Chris STILL struggles with the death of his mom now when he's old enough to understand how little memories he has of her. Poor baby "doesn't remember her voice anymore". And it's big, huge. But Eddie thinks everything is fine because he doesn't see the deep pain Chris holds in his heart, or he doesn't know how to help and doesn't try to react till the situation demands from him (like Chris dating several girls)

And then another situation. Poor Chris saw woman who look like his mom. Who hugged his dad while he came home with his dad's girlfriend he liked enough to hang out without his dad. And Eddie again thinks that he can deal with it of he just ask Buck. But he's wrong again. Buck ofc talks to Chris, tries to reason with him that it's normal that parents make mistakes, but Chris refuses to listen. And he deserves it. He is hurting by his dads decision, he doesn't understand it. And this decision hits hard on problem with his mom, on his abandonment issue he has. So he wants out. And I think Eddie should have tried talk to Chris himself. At least near the closed door. Just explain himself. Maybe it would have stopped Chris from leaving. Seeing that HIS DAD does something to make the situation better. But Eddie just panics and ask other people fix his family. And that's the problem. Until he himself wouldn't take matters in his hands, his family, his relationship with Chris would go further away from him

I hope in season 8 Eddie will actively himself fix his relationship with Chris and finally work on ghost of Shannon in his love life and his relationship with Chris. He should go and talk to Chris in Texas, he should show his parents HE IS THE PARENT.

Eddie should fix his family without any others help. Even from Buck

[daisyychainssj]

I know the whole Richas and Tallulah conflict happened hours ago and it reached a resolution and stuff but I'm just now catching up with it so I'm gonna write out my feelings about it because I think the whole thing and the way everyone is interpreting it differently is really interesting. I'm probably going to end up saying things that people said like hours ago so sorry if it's a bit repetitive to read!

!THIS IS ALL ABOUT THE CHARACTERS NOT THE CCS!

Richas POV - Okay so firstly, Richas' pov is probably the most complicated because he (obviously) has a much more complex relationship and understanding of the paintings. Not only do they cause him to be distressed because of how they're created but seeing it up on Philza's wall has just shown him that his pai Cellbit betrayed his trust. He didn't get rid of the paintings and instead has been just handing them out behind his back and I can't imagine how gut wrenching that must've been. Tallulah get's defensive about the painting and so she becomes the target of all of his hurt, frustration and fear. He is so worked up over this (understandably) and is getting increasingly frustrated because nobody is listening to him. He didn't agree to the "not be siblings anymore" ultimatum because he truly felt that way, I think he was just blinded by pure desperation. This poor kid NEEDS to be given the opportunity to sit down with someone and open up about this whole Romero Richas situation and he needs to be listened to and his fears taken seriously.

Tallulah POV - Now onto Tallulah's pov. For Tallulah this painting is a cute art piece of her papa phil and her brother Chayanne and suddenly her other brother is demanding that he take it back. Yes it's his painting but also she's a kid, in her eyes this painting was given to them and it's theirs now why would she give it back just so it can be destroyed? Also, Tallulah is the sweet egg! the kind egg! oh she's just so lovely and that's all there is to her!!!!! (sense my sarcasm here) sometimes when that is the way that someone presents themselves it's because they're scared that if they aren't that way they won't be liked/loved and people will leave if they're not prefect. This girl has abandonment issues on top of abandonment issues and Richas agreed to not be her sibling anymore over a painting. So this impacted her HARD. (we ofc know Richas didn't mean it but her character didn't) Tallulah acts out and (from her pov) stands her ground for once and now her brother doesn't want to be her brother anymore. I also think her throwing a tantrum and being a bratty made some of the audience even more shocked and dare I say frustrated at Tallulah behaving like this during this situation because that's not how they're used to her being. She was being stubborn and giving these intense ultimatums but she can be like this I think people just don't see it often because she only really lets her guards down in that way infront of Phil and Chayanne.

So now you have two extremely worked up kids who won't really listen to each other because their emotions are so heightened and that's to be expected! Children can not and should not be expected to regulate their emotions in the same way adults can.

Forever POV - His entire pov of the situation is very interesting to me. I see a lot of people criticising the way he handled this and to a certain extent I do agree. However, I think something that is being overlooked is that Forever perhaps wanting to make sure Tallulah was okay is because that is not his child. He only got permission literally yesterday to look after her after being previously denied. With Richas he can sit with him for HOURS afterwards if needed to try and talk through things. He has to drop Tallulah home in like an hour. It's very obvious to everyone on the island how close she is with Phil, she will tell him everything that happened during her time with the other parents. It makes sense, to me, for Forever to want to try and smooth the situation out as fast as he can and make everything okay. Do I think that makes the way he acted completely fine. No. but I don't think it makes zero sense for him to have acted that way. Also, him being Richas' pai means he's seen Richas have tantrums and be dramatic and bratty, he's never ever seen Tallulah do that so yeah he's going to panic and be like "oh shit I need to calm her down/make sure she's okay because this is unusual". I really do wish he had taken Richas' feelings and concerns more more seriously and hadn't just left him for a bit hopefully in the future he makes sure that he does that. It's a learning curve and he's learning to parent as he goes! He crash landed on an island and then got a child dropped into his lap to take care of so he's kinda just learning on the job.

BBH POV - I don't really have much to say here, I think bad handled the situation well given what he canonically knows about the Romero Richas situation (which is basically nothing) He encouraged Tallulah to talk things through with Richas and kept explaining how important their bond is and idk I just think BBH did a really good job.

Overall, I LOVE that the eggs are getting storylines with each other and are learning and growing. I'm so glad that Richas and Tallulah made up, they both need a warm hug and some hot chocolate or something after that whole ordeal. Little kids feeling big emotions for the first time is tough! but they did great <3

(I apologise if I missed anything important that happened between Richas and Forever when they were alone, I don't speak Portuguese but I tried my best based on the bits and pieces that the wonderful Portuguese speakers on here have translated!)

Anyway that's my long ass essay done! <3

[shewhotellsstories]

People say Eloise is a self centered white feminist who enjoys the privileges that come with being a Bridgerton and although that's true, she is also a sheltered teenage girl who needs to learn about the world.

Her feelings of marriage are valid and while she needs to learn that desiring motherhood and marriage doesn't make a woman lesser, it's part of growing up and learning true feminism. She's a baby feminist but viewers don't want her to grow. How many teenage girls in today's day and age are all-knowing about feminism theory? Her friendship with Theo taught her about the working class and that connection to the outside world could have been a great learning experience for Eloise. Yes she has the privilege of being a Bridgerton but that safety net is exactly why she should be allowed to advocate for things the way she wanted Whistledown to(not a critique of the character but rather the writing and the fandom)

Penelope did some selfish things as Whistledown, abusing her power (cause it wasn't just about being gossip girl for the bag) and rather than acknowledge that we're expected to sweep it under the rug. I LOVE flawed characters because the writing acknowledges their wrong doings and yet certain characters get away with murder.

Eg s1 Blair was awful to Serena and while she had her reasons for doing so, revenge and her own self worth and abandonment issues, the show acknowledged this and we wanted good things for Blair. Serena slept with her best friend's boyfriend and covered up a mans overdose but we still root for her because she is a good person and is trying to grow.

If Penelope doesn't acknowledge her wrongdoings how can she grow as a character.

"Okay publishing a burn book is wrong but I love writing and I'm good at it, maybe I should become Jane Austin or something."

(throwing in how Edwina was raked over the coals for being angry with Kate and while the half sister comment was uncalled for, she wasnt given the same grace Penelope has been given)

I'm sorry for how long and all over the place this is.

No, I get it. The issue is that some characters are given grace while others are crucified. Some characters have their circumstances considered when examining their behavior while others don't. I hate it that some characters get novellas dedicated to defending their bad behavior while others should've just known better.

And that's totally the way I see Eloise Bridgerton. She's a baby feminist! She is in her just watched Ironed Jawed Angels and has maybe read a few zines era of feminism. When I was 17, I remember saying in class that I didn't think it was possible to be a SAHM and be happy and now my opinions have radically shifted because I'm not a kid anymore. Now, if you'd ask me I'd say it's a vulnerable position to be in economically because your security is tied up in your marriage working out and or your husband never dying, but it's your choice ultimately. What a difference a fully developed brain and college professors who require you to read bell hooks and Audre Lorde can make.

But seriously, the sad irony of Eloise being raked over the coals for "doing nothing" is that she was trying to become more informed and it blew up in her face. Spending time with Theo and other members of the working class was really good for her. Sadly, Penelope should've known better than most that she was genuinely trying to expand her worldview, but Eloise is the only person getting the bad friend allegations.

And yeah, as much as I love Kate and Anthony, people were way too hard on Edwina in season two. No one wanted to hurt her, but who in her position would toss confetti?

Plus, I'm really glad someone else is seeing the endless Gossip Girl comparisons that can be made here!

P.S. If you're interested one of my favorite Kanthony fics ends in Anthony and Kate encouraging Eloise to become a fiction/social commentary writer.

[lukes-curls]

finished rooney’s intermezzo this morning. WOW. i adore the way she wrote it (i said what i said) idc if it’s controversial. the experimental prose, short sentence, lack of punctuation marks appeals to the brainrot part of my brain that reads and consumes in this hungry, relentless way. i have always been a rather insatiable, quick reader but i devoured this novel like i had been starving before. pages consumed with bad table manners— chewing with my mouth open, licking my fingers afterwards.

and oh my god the people in this piece. as the certified little sister (acknowledge your privilege, little girl!) i felt so much reading this. the strange disappointment that goes unsaid. the strange love that goes unsaid. knowing your siblings did the best they could when ur parents inevitably grow tired of being a parent and perhaps marriage breaks down or someone simply checks out (parenting is hard) so your siblings (who probably resent you a bit in theory for being little) in all their three/ten/thirteen (true story) years more on this earth take to protecting you. that felt rather self-insert oops. knowing said effort and love and care does not mean they are unflawed (yes, i’m talking about peter telling ivan he had the pup sorted when he did not in fact have the pup sorted and so it fell into ivan’s lap thank god and he handled it out without any acknowledgment or thanks because peter was ‘handling’ it and so he did (it was SO much more than a dog)). i’m also talking about the weird entitlement they feel over you. your achievements are indirectly theirs, too, because without them you would have never picked up chess or gotten good at something. and the strange guilt they feel for abandoning their little sibling in the house they have a new reprieve from. and i pity those who don’t get to experience the sibling dynamic; those who don’t know what it’s like. there’s so much there.

also can we talk about the women in this book? i love margaret and i love annie and i love sylvia and i love naomi and i adore them all together though i will admit that there were times i grew incredibly frustrated to the point my cheeks got hot because they really need to simply stand up sometimes. like STAND UP! but that’s to be expected. also it did take me a while to get used to them being perceived by men; their limits assumed, their softness assumed, their vulnerability assumed (which is flawlessly executed by sally, oh my goodness). i love the unconventionality imposed by naomi and sylvia loving one man. i love how much peter loves women. everytime i felt emotionally about an event in the book (i had to walk away when peter hadn’t exactly told his girlfriends what was going on and he was cheating on them (call a shovel a shovel) until it was like overtly acknowledged and established by them all that it was a poly situation happening but this also rubbed me the wrong way a bit because why does peter need to have his sexual desires met (i’m talking about being bossy with naomi and sweet with sylvia) and his emotional or domestic desires met simultaneously like this man really got the best of both worlds and this made me upset cause he’s literally a man but i think this is my own issues. to circle back to my point— i would have these big feelings about what should be happening and then something would occur and i would see more of what was really going on and it suddenly mattered less that peter was getting the best of both worlds because sylvia and naomi understood perfectly well what was going on. idk i guess what i mean is i felt this initial impulse to feel a certain way which was soon corrected by me experiencing the narrative, peeling back that layer and that’s a lot like life i guess. that is what sally is so good at doing. writing something that is so much like life.

and the way sally structurally screams ‘art is just a pastiche of everything an artist loves’ or whatever they say (let’s sort it out on the remix) by putting the direct excerpts she stole (endearingly) at the end— bits and pieces even the smartest kid couldn’t pick apart with absolute certainty without some sort of external help. the fact these external pieces blend so seamlessly just proves her point. and i want to mention the length. the stream of consciousness. the hypocrisy. emphasis on catholic guilt. there is so much packed into this little novel. it is so much more than a silly little read though even if that is the idea you walk away with then you’re also so right?

anyways these are my initial silly thoughts, there are lots more but this is a long ass post. pls talk to me about it. i can’t wait to check the tag without fearing i am spoiling anything 🍽️