#face claim (troye sivan)

[aronpipcr]

troye sivan via instagram

[punkpillowprincess]

First date of the "Something To Give Each Other Tour"

Lisbon, Portugal

✦✦

[aesthetics-for-harry-potter]

2/3

Moodboard of Albus Potter.

Face-claim: Troye Sivan.

Requested by: anon.

[showmeyouricons]

[bbydoll18xx]

How Do I Get to Heaven?

'Without changing a piece of me, how do I get to heaven?'

Paige Bueckers x reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Themes: angst, slurs, religious trauma, HAPPY ENDING i promise

A/N: hiii so this one is super angsty and sad. I've been going through a rough time, and this is my way of coping. I kinda touched on these subjects in 'She's Such a Good Girl' part 2, and this is similar. I was obsessed with 'Heaven' by Troye Sivan when I was like 15-16 and the lyrics hit a little too hard. If you're gay and were raised in a religious household, I suggest taking a listen.

~

“He’s a fuckin’ faggot!”

“Hate the sin, love the sinner.”

“Those kinds of people are going straight to hell.”

Your face remained neutral. It had to. But you had years of practice, and while you were internally sobbing at the bigoted remarks, there was nothing you could do to stop it. So you stayed quiet, and you maintained your usual look of disinterest. 

Running up the stairs, you finally make it into the safehaven of your bedroom. You shut the door quietly, trying to avoid seeming as if anything is wrong or out of the ordinary. Nothing could possibly be wrong. You were the perfect child; straight As, never in trouble, and you always were eager to help out around the house. But you were harboring a dirty little secret that threatened to rip you from the grips of being the golden girl of your family. 

Sobs wracked your body as you slid onto the carpeted floor of your room. What had started off as an innocent dinner had turned into a nightmare. Slurs were thrown around casually, and unbeknownst to your family, you were the unidentified target. Your sexuality was the reason you had become an empty shell of a person, riddled with fear of accidentally outting yourself. And the anxieties you felt were bubbling up, threatening to ruin the perfect image of yourself that you had crafted for your loved ones. 

This wasn’t the first time. And it surely would not be the last. 

Your family had always claimed to love you. Your childhood was a happy one, but you feared the truth would break everyone. And even if they found out and still claimed to love you, you knew they would always see you differently. Gone would be the girl they knew, and their eager touts would be replaced with hushed whispers. You’d forever be known as “the gay one.” And you fucking resented that.

So here you sat on the floor, trying to quiet your sobs as you mourned the loss of the life you once knew and the people who would eventually turn their backs to you. 

Summer was ending, and soon you would be fleeing back to college, where your guard could be let down just enough to show the world a glimpse of who you really were and who you really wanted to love. 

There was just one girl who you wanted to love you back.

Paige Bueckers was your best friend. And she was so very gay. 

Since meeting her at the beginning of freshman year, she had pulled you out of a darkness that had resided in you since you had realized your feelings towards girls. It did not take long for you to fall madly, head-over-heels in love with her, but you had vowed to ignore it. 

Even if there was any hope of reciprocated feelings, you knew deep down that being in love with a girl would mean having to come out to your family. And you were just not ready for that. You weren’t sure if you would ever be ready for that. 

The thought terrified you. You knew you were willingly inhibiting a possibility of incredible happiness and love, but because it was at the risk of losing your loved ones, you were shutting it all out. 

‘Fuck. I really need therapy,’ you think miserably. 

That was the understatement of the century.

~

The new school year starts, and Uconn’s campus is ablaze with excited students and the possibilities of what is to come. You are finally starting to feel like yourself again, and the second your parents leave your apartment, you don a t-shirt plastered with Diana Taurasi’s face on it. 

You could finally get your gay card back.

A loud knock rings through the empty apartment, and before you could get to the door to answer it, Paige is peeking her head through it, a huge grin covering her face. 

She wastes no time barreling through the room, sweeping you up in a hug and spinning you around. Your feet leave the ground, causing your stomach to flip, and your legs automatically wrap around her waist for leverage. 

“Someone missed me,” you giggle, feeling breathless from being back in Paige’s tight embrace. You had been dreaming of this since you last saw her, back in July. 

“Course I did,” she chuckles, voice muffled against your hair. “You glad to be back?”

You groan. “Fuck, yeah I am. Lookin’ forward to not hearing some slurs for a bit,” you say, fist-pumping the air with a dramatic roll of the eyes. “And I’m especially looking forward to not having to listen to Fox fuckin’ News,” you add, pretending to gag.

Paige’s eyes rake over you, and she pouts, already knowing how your family could be. She had listened to your endless rants and your pathetic cries for the past three years. 

“I think you should just move in with me after this year ends. That way you don’t have to put up with that shit. Then we can be together after graduation,” she says earnestly. 

This was not the first time she had proposed this idea. And while you were internally jumping at the idea, the fear of how it would look to your family made you shy away. Paige wasn’t exactly the most straight-looking girl. Living with her would make things complicated. Your covert feelings had no place in a situation like that. 

You sigh. “I’ll think about it, P,” you promise, linking your pinky with hers, as you always did. 

~

Christmas break quickly rolls around, and Paige’s words are still playing in the back of your mind. Your feelings for her had grown, as if that was even possible, and having to leave her and the safety and warmth that came with her, was agonizing. 

Sitting against the hard back of the pew in your family’s Catholic church, you look around, thinking about how these people would be okay with you burning in hell forevermore. The familiar feeling of shame creeps back into your chest, the flames licking at your wounds. 

You wanted to run and hide. You wanted Paige. 

The Christmas activities persist, and amongst the holiday cheer and piles of gifts, uncomfortable conversations emerge, and you shrink back to your room, desperate for respite.

You felt so fucking abandoned. This was supposed to be a time to enjoy with your family, and instead you were hiding.

There was one person, though, you knew would not abandon you, and that was Paige. Her presence was enough to lessen the sting of the inevitable rejection of your family, and in that moment, it was enough. 

Pulling out your phone, you dial her number, longing to hear her voice, all the way from Montana. Christmas break could not end quickly enough. 

Paige’s smiling face is soon on your phone screen, but it falls as soon as she sees the tears falling down your cheeks and your wobbling bottom lip.

“Oh, baby, what happened?” She asks in a hushed whisper, voice full of anger and concern. 

“They hate me,” you cry. “They fucking hate me, and they don’t even know it yet.”

Paige sighs, trying to find the right words. While she had always had acceptance from those around her, she knew how difficult it was for you to be at home, and she desperately wished to take away your anguish. 

“I love you,” she stresses. “And I know that doesnt fix your family treating you like shit, but soon you’ll be back and everything won’t seem as shitty, I promise.” 

You nod, wiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. 

She loved you. And you knew that. But you wanted her to love you in the way you loved her. For now, you would take what you could get.

“Just a few more days,” she assures, and you feel the tiniest bit better.

Just a few more days. 

~

The start of the new year always engenders change, and you had promised yourself as the clock chimed to signify it was midnight that this would be the year you would hike up your big girl panties and figure out your shit with Paige. Your senior year had to slow down, and Paige’s proposal had been in the back of your mind since August. 

If you could get over your stupid crush on her, things would be all good and dandy, but your efforts to eradicate her place in your heart were futile. You had mused it over nearly a million times. Maybe you’d eventually get over her, and maybe she would have some bizarre habit that would inevitably give you the ick, ridding you of all romantic feelings toward her. 

You could only hope. 

You pump yourself up on the way over to Paige’s apartment, encouraging words forming on your lips, leaving a trail of fog from your warm breath against the cold air. 

You knock on her door, cheeks pink from the frigid temperatures of Connecticut in January, grateful that it hides your blush. Paige opens the door, eyes wide and hopeful. She always looked so damn alluring. 

Your words leave your mouth before your chary mind could overtake you. “I want to move in with you after school ends. I can’t go back to living like that.”

Paige’s features twist into a smile, and she pulls you in for a hug. “Gonna take such good care of you,” she whispers, and you believe her. Your arms wrap around her middle, anchoring you to the floor. 

“I should probably tell you, though,” she trails, her voice getting smaller as she takes a deep breath. 

You look up at her, confusedly. “Tell me what?”

“I love you. And not just like as a friend. So if you don’t want to live with me because of that, I get it,” she mumbles, eyes trained on the floor.

Your breath quickens at the realization. Paige loved you. And the thought of being a colossal disappointment to your family and potentially cast out did not seem to matter as much anymore. Because here was someone who loved every part of you and accepted the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

The look of shock swiftly morphs into one of unbridled euphoria, and without another thought, you pull Paige in for a kiss. It was filled with the pure longing and want of years of uncontrollable urges and repressed thoughts, and it nearly made all the shittiness worth it.

Pulling away, Paige links her pinky with yours again, just as she had back in August. It was an unspoken promise of love. And while you knew the journey would be inexorably difficult, Paige was worth it in the end. 

~

dang that was rough lol but thanks for reading as always:) I really hope this wasn't too triggering or anything for anyone. This has been such a nice outlet for my pain and anger, as I really don't have anyone to talk to about this stuff. I am here for everyone who can relate. My inbox is open if you guys ever want/need to talk

xoxo katy

[seriowan]

cinnamon bread and berry bowls (wrecker x f!reader)

"He whispers it at night when you rest your head on his chest, his fingers combing through your hair. He says it against your skin every time that you are bare, reminding you that he loves the temple you’ve claimed as your body..."

summary: the one where wrecker and his lover find their love in a bowl of berries and cinnamon bread

rating: X (18+ ONLY - minors DNI) — PiV sex w/o protection (don't be irresponsible irl!), oral (f!receiving) creampie, lots of fluff & love

note: it is finally over! this marks the last edition of the v-day special and i have to admit, it's one of my favorites! i love Wrecker with my entire being and this fulfilled so many self-indulgent thoughts about him. and now that this is over, it's time for clone dads!! 😩💕

radio: strawberries and cigarettes, troye sivan — my whole life, alina baraz

masterlist

Love is a strange little thing. 

   Sometimes it sits in the flicker of a candle perched on a small wooden coffee table, spilling golden hues and casting shadows that dance around a cozy little living room. A candle lit for its warmth and soft crackle. Sometimes it lingers alongside the smell of vanilla and sugar, hanging in the taste of cinnamon and warm bread that melts on your tongue. Every loaf created with care, his chest pressed against your back as your hands move in unison, kneading dough and spreading flour like snowfall in winter. It flows beside the sound of music; a gentle song that plays through a small radio atop a tiny coffee table. Breaks between kneading spent dancing, eyes locked as if the world, the galaxy, had no power to tear you apart. 

   Sometimes, love is even found in a bowl of berries. 

   It can be seen among the colors — sharp shades of reds and blues like freshly bloomed carnations. It is in the taste — sweet and tart yet balanced. Each delicate berry melts on your tongue, the fresh flavors reminding you of the loving moment spent picking each one from the market. Wrecker was intent on tasting every other berry, causing a shared laughter that echoed in your mind right alongside the beautiful memory.

   Love lies in the act of plucking a meticulously chosen berry and lifting it to his lips. Love is in his eyes as he smiles, accepting the offering between his teeth. His gaze never leaves your face as he chews and swallows, one hand supporting the back of his head while the other is laced around your waist, fingers tracing loving circles against your thigh. You sit upright, legs crossed underneath you, the bowl resting in your lap as you peer down at him with fondness, the apples of your cheeks flushed red. 

   Love is evident in this moment: with the candles ablaze; gentle music playing; the carpet in the living room serving as your bed of flowers. Warmth pours out from the kitchen where dough sits in the oven, filling the small house with the comforting smell of cinnamon. The domesticity of sitting on the living room floor, enjoying nothing but his presence and a bowl of fruit, brings a sense of joy and contentment that eases every weight from your shoulders, leaving you light and airy. 

   The loved forges as you bring each berry to his lips. It solidifies when he takes it, occasionally shifting his hand to dip his fingers into the bowl, pinching a berry that he then holds up to you. You have to dip your head to bite it, inciting a chuckle that makes your heart leap. 

   There is love when he speaks, sending goosebumps down your arms and legs at the touch of gravel in his deep voice. 

   “Peach,” he murmurs, drawing circles against your bare thigh. You look down at him and smile when he seems to be gazing up at the ceiling, a dazed grin on his lips. “You know I love you, right?” 

   You know because he never shies from saying those words or acting on them. A kiss on your forehead or a squeeze to your hip. A hand on your thigh or a little kiss to your hairline. Anything to let you know that he is there and he loves you. He whispers it at night when you rest your head on his chest, his fingers combing through your hair. He says it against your skin every time that you are bare, reminding you that he loves the temple you’ve claimed as your body. 

   And even though he says it frequently, the words never lose their charm. They incite the same rush of giddiness through your gut; the same blast of heat across your cheeks. It makes you feel like you’re sitting on clouds. 

   You set the berries off to the side, putting away the bowl of love before uncurling your legs to lie down. The gentle carpet slides along your skin as you fall into his side, his long arm bringing you closer. Your legs cross over his, twisting and turning in a knot you do not intend to unravel. As you rest your head against his chest, his large palm settles comfortably on your hip, fingertips continuing their slow trek back and forth over your skin. You cross your arm over his chest, sliding a hand under his shirt just to feel the warmth of his skin. 

   You know I love you, right? 

   “I know,” you answer softly, tilting your head up. He’s already looking down at you with a flustered, shy smile. “And you know I love you more, right?” 

   Wrecker chuckles, the sound rich and deep and endearing. "Not possible," he hums, his hand stilling on your hip as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. 

   At that moment, nothing else matters. All of the worries and stresses of your life fade away, replaced by the deep, burning love that you have for this man — this unexpected blessing that the universe had to offer in a time of need. And as you settle more deeply into his embrace, you know that you are exactly where you belong.

   You take a moment to drink in the sight of him, to memorize every curve and angle of his face. There are the telltale signs of the evening's activities: the red stain of berry juice on his lips, the smudge of flour on his cheekbone, the crumbs of sugar on his chin. You can't help but feel a surge of affection for this sweet man.

   It’s hard to imagine your life without him; without his booming laughter and caring eyes; without the hands that make your body come alive with grace, cherishing and admiring with every calloused caress. 

   As you lay there, lost in thought, you feel his fingers move on your skin, tracing gentle patterns side to side across your thigh. He opens his eyes and catches you staring but you don’t shy away, sharing a small smile. 

   You sigh deeply, the three words of love ready to fall from your lips when a sudden ring echoes from the kitchen. The loaves of bread in the oven ease their divine smell to your spot on the floor, causing you and Wrecker to sit up and turn. 

   “About time,” he says cheekily, pushing himself up to his feet. “That felt like forever.” 

   He holds out a hand and you take it, allowing him to pull you up with ease. Only, he doesn’t stop there. Without letting go of your hand, he surprises you with a sudden twirl and dip, lowering his head to touch your foreheads in the shortest, most intimate gesture. You giggle, sliding your hand down his chest. 

   “C’mon,” you sing, nudging your head toward the kitchen. “The bread’s going to burn if we stay here any longer.” 

   He stands upright, flushing red as he nods. “Right, right. C’mon, peach. Let’s go see how all our hard work turned out.” 

   Hand-in-hand, he guides you to the kitchen and you eagerly follow. The moment you step through the archway, his hands settle on your hips and he effortlessly lifts you, seating you on the edge of the counter before grabbing oven mitts. You cross your legs, heels kicking as he opens the oven door. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla becomes stronger, drawing a giddy smile to his lips as he takes the bread pans out, using his heel to kick the door closed. 

   Hot vapors rise from the fresh loaves as he takes them out and turns them over atop the cooling rack on the counter. With quick fingers, he tears a small piece off and holds it up to his lips, blowing to cool it down while strolling over to you. 

   Wrecker wedges himself between your legs and you cross your ankles behind his back. He settles a hand on your thigh, fingers skimming over the fabric of your underwear. With a final blow of air through his puffed cheeks, he splits the bread piece in half and raises one side to your lips. 

   You reach up to grab it but he suddenly withdraws his hand, causing you to playfully roll your eyes and give in. The moment you open your mouth, he returns the piece to your lips, allowing you to bite it. Warm vanilla and cinnamon melt on your tongue, causing you to groan in delight. Wrecker takes a moment before mimicking you, emitting the same noise as he shuts his eyes and nods. 

   “Oh, yeah,” he murmurs in bliss, the low rumble of his voice causing your toes to curl. “That’s good stuff.” 

   You slide your hands over his shoulders, interlocking your fingers behind his head. “Mm, say that again,” you whisper cheekily, causing him to pause and pinch his brows in confusion. 

   “That’s good stuff?” 

   You’re laughing as you tighten your legs, securing him flush against your chest. Wrecker rests his hands on the counter, bracketing you between his arms while he cracks a smile. His amusement fades into a blissful grin as you lean, hovering your lips over his. Seeking hands slip underneath the collar of his shirt, playfully dragging over his shoulder blades.

   “Oh, yeah,” he groans and you giggle, nodding in delight. 

   “That’s what I want to hear.” 

   Wrecker chuckles before dipping his head, seizing your lips in a gentle kiss. It’s a slow dance of patience, tasting the shared sugar and cinnamon on your tongues. His hands remain on the counter, clenched as a sign of restraint. You, on the other hand, are free to roam wherever you like, moving your hands from his back to his chest. The fabric of his shirt wrinkles as you grab it, squeezing it in a gesture of need. 

   Since you know Wrecker won't, you break the kiss first, giving yourselves the brief second needed to shed your clothes. Wrecker drops his boxers while you throw your shirt to the ground, grinning when his hands grip your hips with impatience, pulling your waist closer to the edge of the counter.

   He is back against your lips as soon as you tilt your head up, tasting and licking and moving more passionately than before. The dance has become needier than before as his hands fondle and grope the flesh of your hips, fingers sliding underneath the waistband of your underwear. You can hear him panting, moans slipping between breaths. 

   Distracted by his lips, you don’t feel the stiffness resting against your thigh until you lower a hand to grab it, eyes widening at how hard he’d become. Your fingers scarcely wrap around his cock and as jarring as it seems, you writhe with impatience. All you want is him — kissing you, inside of you, moaning your name like a song. 

   Wrecker isn’t bothered by the fact that you still have your underwear on. In fact, he seems to like it, gripping the fabric on your hips like reins while you move your panties to the side. Giving his length a few teasing pumps, Wrecker breaks the kiss to exhale a shuddering breath, eyes flitting down. Your bottom is almost hanging off the edge of the counter, making it easy for him to hold your hips while you slide his tip through your folds, spreading your wetness to ensure his entry is easy. 

   Each swipe across your heat is enough to make him groan, his forehead falling to your shoulder. You feel the teasing pinch of his teeth as he bites, the vibrations of his muffled moans causing your skin to burst with ticklish goosebumps. 

   The moment you align his tip to your entrance, Wrecker’s hands tighten around the fabric on your hips and he pulls you to him, sliding you onto his cock like you were a weightless sleeve. It’s lewd but it’s passionate, as if he has little to no patience when it comes to truly feeling you. He can’t wait to be part of you and the moment he fits his thickness within the comfort of your heated cunt, he emits a low growl that causes you to moan, your body bubbling with satisfaction and excitement. 

   Wrecker groans into the crook of your neck, hot breath tickling your skin. “You feel so good.” 

   Although you try, you can’t say much. The fullness between your thighs is intoxicating, sucking the air from your lungs and wiping every clear thought. It’s overwhelming and satisfying all at once, bringing you to a point where you can do nothing but gasp, eyes closing tightly.

   When he starts moving, stars flash across your eyelids. He’s holding you in place, moving his hips back and forth to bring himself in and out, in and out, slowly allowing you to adjust to his size. There is enough space behind you for you to lean back on your elbows, causing Wrecker’s hands to move from your hips to your thighs. Your ankles unlock, a leg hanging limply over the edge of the counter while the other lifts, ankle resting on his shoulder. 

   It’s an exposing gesture, prying your legs apart for him to see his length as it slides in and out of your cunt. The sight makes his eyes flutter shut, jaw clenching as if he can’t believe that you’re taking him so well. 

   “Look at this,” he grunts softly, holding your thigh with one large palm while the other moves down to the apex of your thighs, seeking the nub that causes you to writhe the moment he gives it attention. As he swivels his thumb around your clit, forcing a chorus of moans to fall from your lips, his thrusts pick up the pace. “You’re eating me up, peach. Such a good girl, bein’ so kriffin’ wet for me…” 

   Each snap of his hips sends a jolt of electricity through you. You’re trembling, shaking, mouth pried open as you pant for air. Skin-to-skin symphonies sing, drowning out the music that barely plays from the living room. Everything is wet, it’s sloppy, but it’s romantic and divine. It’s the type of disheveled unruliness that comes with Wrecker — a passionate chaos that you’ve grown to love so much, you can hardly see a future without it. 

   “Oh, fuck,” you wail when the coiled tension in your belly begins to build. The words fall mindlessly from your lips as you stammer, “Wrecker, I-I’m going to- I can’t-” 

   The look he gives you is encouraging. Love blazes in his eyes as he nods, wetting his lips. “C’mon, princess. Ride it out for me, baby.” 

   His palm stretches out over your belly, pressing just slightly enough for the pressure to feel consuming. When the orgasm hits you, it ignites like a match, sending intense tingles through your body from head to toe. Your shaking, clenching and unclenching around him while Wrecker starts to slow down, hips stuttering from the feeling of your tight, addictive heat. 

   Before he could come, he pulls out of you with haste and surprises you by immediately kneeling. Hooking both legs over his shoulders, he holds your hips in his large hands, cradling your bottom as he dips his head between your thighs. His flat tongue glides over your sensitive heat, swiveling around your clit all while you’re still tense and shaking from your climax. The added touch of his tongue to your clit and the smooth finger he slides into your walls is enough to overstimulate you into a second orgasm. 

   The immediate wave hits you harder than the previous. It causes you to sit upright, thighs clamping around Wrecker’s head like suffocating earmuffs as you writhe and whimper. Tears blur your vision and you can swear you’re going to pass out from the intensity of the second wave. 

   Wrecker continues licking. He’s still devouring the taste of honey on his tongue, indulging in everything that comes from your climax, including the tightness of having your legs clamped around his head. You’re shaking so violently that his hands tighten around your hips, squeezing to hold you still. To pin you down. He’s licking so greedily, slurping so hungrily, that the noises are enough to make your eyes roll back. 

   It isn’t until he halts that you realize he’s reached his peak as well. Wrecker’s climax comes softer than yours but it’s there, causing his jaw to clench and his eyes to close. He rolls through it before shaking his head in what looked to be frustration. 

   To your surprise, he stands. Your legs fall from his shoulders, opening wide for him to slide and fit between your thighs once more. Without hesitation, he takes his leaking cock in hand and slides it into you, fitting its entire length within your walls. You accept it with a sensitive whine, resting your hands atop his when they settle on your hips. There is no movement anymore. Wrecker stays sheathed inside of you just to feel you clench around him while he comes, spilling rope after rope of cum until it begins to trickle past the seams of your conjoined bodies. 

   As the mess trickles down his thigh, he smirks with breathless satisfaction. 

   You both wait a moment, eyes closed in bliss while the adrenaline subsides. As the energy eases its way from your tense muscles, leaving you sore yet content, you slowly open your eyes and meet his. The haze of elation brings you both to a standstill, a tired but satisfied smile gently lifting your lips. 

   “Hey, peach?” He murmurs, slowly sliding out of your heat with a grimace. 

   You’re too tired to speak so you hum as you sit up.

   Wrecker’s large hand, calloused and warm, holds the side of your face. He uses his thumb to nudge your head up, stealing a kiss at the first opportunity. You grin when his tongue teasingly drags over your bottom lip. 

   The moment you pull apart, the two of you speak at the same time. 

   “I love you.” 

   “I’m starving.” 

   Silence hangs for a second longer before you both start laughing. Wrecker’s cheeks flush red and he rubs the back of his head, burning with embarrassment. You shake your head, resting your forehead against his chest as you gather the last of your bearings. His hand slides down your back, the other gently brushing over your hair. 

   “I do love you-” 

   “-you’re just aching to get some of that bread,” you finish for him, lifting your head to see his sheepish grin. Giggling, you nod and nudge your head toward the cooled bread sitting atop the rack. “Me too. Hand me a piece.” 

   Naked and ecstatic, Wrecker briskly strides over to the cinnamon bread and grabs the whole loaf. When he returns, he tears a piece and raises it to your lips. You accept it happily, moaning when the flavor hits you like another orgasm. 

   “Oh, yeah,” you mimic him from earlier, causing him to chuckle and shake his head as he leans his hip against the counter. “That is good stuff.” 

   “You’re good stuff,” Wrecker murmurs, giving you a wink.

   Your laugh is interrupted by another piece that he suddenly shoves in your mouth.

   “I love you,” you mumble through a mouthful of bread. 

   The love in Wrecker’s eyes is unmistakable. He looks at you for a little bit longer, taking in the flustered twinge in your cheeks, the blissed-out sight of your naked self, and smiles. Cupping the back of your head, he brings you in for a lingering kiss. You hum in delight and he chuckles, pressing your foreheads together. 

   “I love you more,” he promises.

   “Not possible.” 

   “Very possible.”

   At that moment, you find love in the smile on his lips, eyes sparkling with so much joy and contentment. You find it in the arm that he curls around you, pulling you close to his side. You hear it in his laugh. In the smell of cinnamon that hangs in the air. In the little trace of red still lingering on his lips, staining yours and his fingertips.

   Love in berry bowls and cinnamon bread.  

   You grin, leaning into his side with a content sigh. 

   “Fine. I’ll agree if you give me some more bread.” 

   Wrecker looks proud as he laughs, nodding his head. 

   “That’s my girl. Now open up.” 

taglist

@queenquazar @jedimastersovi @mo-i-ra @boomtowngirl @lucyysthings @nahoney22 @elismor @techs-ass @discarded-beskar @dangraccoon @corona-one @maulslittlemeowmeow @misogirl828 @theclonesdeservebetter @frietiemeloen @pinkiemme @torchbearerkyle @witchklng @ivela3 @kaminocasey @sunflowerrex  @nekotaetae @literallydontlook @agenteliix @burningfieldof-clover (@imarvelatthestars — dedicated to you and your kindness, ily ❤️)

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[khaleesiofalicante]

I think Troye Sivan as Arthur is the most perfect face claim EVER. It's just perfect.

And the fact that Troye is actually a great actor🤌🤌

I must say I cooked with Lance and AJ castings 😌😌😌

[irafuwas]

good evening I am once again listening to troye sivan and thinking about lilibaul

(This post contains NSFW content. pls read at your own discretion. & minors pls dni)

I’m not totally sold on Lilia x Mallenoa as I don’t care for love triangles, but what if he did love her, and instead of fighting against Levan for her affection he just kind of… gave up. Maybe he realized, early on in his burgeoning crush, that Mallenoa would never – and could never – love him the same way he loved her. Maybe he noticed all the little things - the furtive glances, the barely-there sighs, the softness of their friend’s name on her lips. Maybe it hurt him, the way the edges of her eyes would never crinkle for him like when she’d smile at Levan.

And so he just stepped back and let Mallenoa and Levan’s love for each other fill up the empty space where he used to be.

And then Baul enters his life. And Baul is different. Lilia had spent his entire life bowing down to aristocrats and politicians, looked down on and made inferior by even his own best friends, but he doesn’t feel that way with Baul, doesn’t feel the need to make himself any lesser than he already is. More than anything, Baul is there, within Lilia’s grasp, he’s something tangible and real, something Lilia can, without trepidation, without fear of denial, reach out and touch and claim for himself and himself alone. He slips into Lilia’s heart with the quietude of a candlelit shadow, and for once, Lilia doesn’t try to force him out - not at first.

When they begin sleeping together, they do so under a pretense of frivolity. They don’t put a label on it – “There’s no reason to,” Lilia had said the first time they kissed, “Not for something as trivial as sex.”

There is no tenderness in their lovemaking, no patience or understanding. Baul is as vicious as Lilia needs him to be, and Baul likes it fast, pounding into Lilia with a breakneck ferocity that always leaves both of them doubled-over, gasping for air.

He only ever fucks Lilia on his back, so he can see Lilia’s face, so he can watch their country’s most fearsome war hero writhe and squirm and break and shatter into a million pieces underneath him. But Baul’s gaze never seems to focus. It’s like he’s searching for something, his eyes wandering, moving over the point of their union, over Lilia’s thin chest, trembling on the verge of collapse, moving up higher to Lilia’s half-closed eyes, searching, desperate to find the one thing he knows cannot be found within their garnet depths.  

And when he does not find it, his grip hardens around Lilia’s waist, his fingers pressing deeper and deeper until it feels like the soft white flesh is about to burst. (Baul always apologizes profusely when Lilia’s skin erupts in bruises the next morning, but Lilia doesn’t mind. He likes to trace his fingers over them when he’s alone, when the specters of his past begin to whisper in his mind that he cannot and will never be loved. He’ll point to the blue-black marks dotting his skin and say, “No, you’re wrong. Look here - here is where someone has loved me.”)

But on nights when Lilia has Baul bent over the puny little cot in their shared tent and he’s rocking into him slow, achingly slow, his fingers curled up in the sweat slick hair at the base of Baul’s neck, and Baul’s whimpering under him, begging Lilia to go faster, please go faster – Lilia’s imagining its Mallenoa he’s fucking. He always does.

They continue this game for decades, for centuries. Ultimately, Baul falls in love first, and he falls fast and he falls hard. He’s as volatile as a thunderstorm, but also steady, his presence in Lilia’s life constant and unchanging. And Lilia isn’t used to that, doesn’t know how to process “steady”, can’t puzzle out how one man can be both a maelstrom and an anchor in the turbulent waters of his own love. When Lilia realizes he’s come to trust Baul’s permanency and starts believing that maybe, just maybe, he’s found someone who won’t leave him, when Mallenoa’s shadow dissipates in the soft candlelight of their bedroom and he finally, finally sees Baul staring up underneath him, he panics.

And then he does what he’s always done when thrown before the face of Intimacy – he pulls away.

I think the “divorce” would be initiated by Baul. He wants something more out of their relationship, and knows Lilia wants the same, but Lilia is too scared to allow himself the stability that Baul offers. I think they would finally call things off after Baul meets the woman he’d go on to marry and start a family with. (Baul leaves after realizing this isn’t what love is supposed to be like; Lilia leaves because he’s a coward and finally saw a way out.)

idk I just find it more interesting if they went into this whole thing knowing they were setting themselves on fire and they were okay with it until they weren’t ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (bonus points if they were each other’s first 😌)

anyways here’s the troye tracks I relate to them

Baul’s pov:

“The Good Side” [I think, ultimately, they had a healthy break up. Baul moved on and found new love and got married and started a family, and Lilia was sincerely happy for him. But it still hurt them both deeply]

“could cry just thinkin about you" (dont ask me why hes dressed like that lol)

Lilia’s pov:

“Angel Baby” (acoustic version) [this is how Lilia really feels towards baul but is too scared to ever admit it]

“Easy” (in a dream live version ft. Kacey Musgraves) [this is the lilibaul song for me. the below lyrics are like their whole relationship in my eyes. yes this song would imply there was some cheating involved, no i shan’t elaborate]

“We knew what was under the surface And lived like it wouldn’t hurt us But it hurt us”

[sunbabycentral]

I have a very certain look for each of the sunbabies in my fic so if anyone is curious and wants to know more, click in the read more for detailed descriptions and their ~approximate faceclaim~ (aka not age accurate, but how I imagine they'll look when they're older)

(Also this got long IM SORRY)

Will: shaggy curly blonde hair that gets more sun bleached in the summer months. A darker golden in the winter, but more angelic halo gold in the summer. Dark blue eyes with a golden heterochromatic center that looks like the sun's rays. A dimple in his right cheek. Once got an ear pierced by his older sister but never wears it. Relents and lets his younger sisters paint one (1) pinky nail gold. Tall and lanky, but stronger than he looks. Stylized sun tattoo in golden ink on his skin. Deeply tanned, but considerably paler in the winter. Long fingers perfect for ring wearing (he never does bc of the infirmary). Delicate looking features, but a boyish delicate. Clear laughter, thick southern accent, voice is slightly gravelly with a bit of vocal fry, but not too much.

Faceclaim I use for him in my head: Gavin Casalegno, specifically in "The Summer I Turned Pretty"

Kayla: ginger hair cut short into a mid length bob, homemade dyed green ends. Bright and clear blue eyes with a golden center like Will's (and all of the Apollo siblings) like the rays of the sun. Paler, but covered in tons of freckles. Muscular from archery training, could knock you out in one punch. User of claw clips to keep her hair out of her face in the infirmary. Doesn't really have an accent, but you can hear her Canadian accent slightly on certain words like "about". On the shorter side. Always has lots of bandages on her fingers from archery and cutting herself on her arrow fletchings.

Faceclaim I use for her: Sadie Sink

Austin: dark skin, warm brown eyes with the Apollo Kid Center. A higher thin voice, very New York accent. Lanky like Will, but won't be nearly as tall as him. Likes to wear gold rings on his fingers. Wears his hair in braids or locs most of the time, sometimes puts gold accessories in them. Still very childlike in his face since he's one of the youngest kids. The best posture in the cabin, can often be found with some musical instrument in hand.

Faceclaim I use for him: Caleb Mclaughlin

Now into the ~semi canon and OC kids~

Anteros: very lithe figure, almost delicate and breakable looking until he's yelling at you in the infirmary. Normally has brown hair, but currently dyes it a silver/white blonde. Piercing blue eyes with The Golden Center, flecks of green as well. Pierced nose on the left side, uses either a gold ring or a sun shaped stud. Enjoys painting his nails with his younger sisters. Higher voice, very Valley (Girl) boy California accent. Would not be caught dead without his Eyeliner. Obsessed with his daggers, is very dangerous, do not piss him off.

My faceclaim I use for him: Troye Sivan

Yan: semi canon. Athletic build, probably the "buffest" Apollo kid. Dark brown almost black eyes with a darker Golden Center. A gazillion piercings in his ears, his favorite being a dragon cuff. Probably will get a lip piercing. The emo kid people think Nico is. Longer shaggy black hair he keeps pulled back in a ponytail with loose bits hanging out. A smile that says "I have done something and you will never know what." Can be found with a leather jacket with a aroace flag lapel button. Enjoys morning runs because he's a masochist. Oldest in the cabin, but refused leadership because his English isn't perfect and Will had been there longer (he was claimed post Manhatten). Can be found swearing in 3 different Chinese dialects because no one can understand him.

My faceclaim I use: Minghao Xu

Melody: French Princess. No really. Long floaty blonde hair with an "Aurora curl" to it. Wears lots of bows and ribbons in her hair. Would not be caught dead without makeup on. Very delicate, regal gait. Was a ballerina and it shows. Has a very thick French accent and switches languages constantly when she forgets the English word for things. The world's biggest lesbian, loves her girlfriend very much. Very girlie, very sweet, Will kill you if you piss her off. Craves violence (jokingly... unless?) Dimples in both cheeks. Green and Blue eyes with The Golden Center. Smile that could blind a person. Very. Short. Pocket sized.

My faceclaim I use: Sabrina Carpenter

Sohee: the cutest baby angel you will ever see. The youngest camper in Apollo Cabin. Wears ribbons and bows in her long straight black hair. Light brown almond shaped eyes with The Golden Center, look almost amber in the sunlight. Dimples in the tops of her cheeks. Has never wanted a day in her life. Would be the last to die in a zombie apocalypse because everyone else would protect her. Brightest laughter you've ever heard, like tinkling bells. Has a slight Korean accent, but not super noticeable unless you're listening for it. Looks like she could be knocked over by a strong wind, but she will kick your ass even though she's ten. Freckles splashed across her nose, and a beauty mark under her left eye. Long eyelashes she bats to get her way.

Faceclaim I use: Hyein Lee

Gracelynn "Gracie": semi canon. Cutie patootie little blondie. Looks the most related to Will. Pretty blue eyes with The Golden Center. Definitely has a Mormon raised mom and you can tell by the way she dresses. Her hair is more wavy than curly, but you can tell it WANTS to curl, but is too heavy. Always looks like she's about to take flight. Pale, but millions of freckles everywhere. Always has a blue headband in her hair. Permanent "I'm terrified" expression on her face. Evil witch giggle you can hear from a Mile Away and it is SCARY. Best swimmer in Apollo Cabin.

Faceclaim I use: McKenna Grace

I will probably make this for some other important non Apollo Kids, but for now, this is too long as it is

[male-reader-haven]

~That Horrible, Wonderful Feeling~

Author note:

Here is chapter 1 of the project I've been working so long on!! I'm super passionate about this storyline, so I'm hoping you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it. As of right now, I have about 4 chapters completed, and depending on how well this is received I plan on posting them as well. Enjoy your Namjoon crumbs, there is SO much more to come!

Chapter 1: Ideal Woman

Namjoon's POV as he deals with prying reporters, stalkers, and some unwarranted feelings that send him spiraling. How can he claim to know and protect his fellow members if he doesn't even know himself? Y/N, one of 8 members of the worldwide popular K-pop boyband BTS, slowly helps Namjoon along in his journey of self-discovery and acceptance, dealing with his own feelings along the way.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x male idol Y/N

TW: Stalking, internalized homophobia, heavier topics, invasion of privacy, slight NSFW, 18+

Word count: 2801

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“Now, RM, the fans are dying to know. What are your ideal traits in a girl?” The interviewer smiled and held out the microphone towards Namjoon expectantly. The camera pans over to his face and he forces a smile and glances down.

What a stupid fucking question. 

He is so tired of being asked the same questions. Although he knew it was bound to happen due to BTS being worldwide famous idols, still, indulging reporters and tabloids who are constantly hungry for new content and scandals to feed their prying gossipers is so exhausting.

“Ah, well, you know, we all are focusing on our career and don’t have time for anything like that.” He avoids the question, hoping the reporter will drop it. She doesn’t catch on. She has a smile that is too wide and obviously faked. Honestly, Namjoon is pretty sure this american interviewer doesn’t even really know BTS too well or even listen to their music.

“Come on, everyone has a type. ARMY wants to know what kind of woman is RM’s type?” 

As if you can speak for ARMY.

“Why do you care?” Namjoon snaps. He surprises himself with his response and immediately follows it up. “I-I mean, it doesn’t really matter. As long as they love and accept me, I guess.” He saves it the best he can. The interviewer stares him down.

“Awe, how sweet. Well before you go Namjoon, we just gotta know! There have been rumors going around that you secretly have a girlfriend! Is it true? Should we be expecting an announcement soon?” As she speaks, pictures flash across the screen of Namjoon caught in the street taking pictures with a fan. Namjoon feels frustration bubble up, not only at the accusation but at the lack of privacy and how the tabloids must have been following him around taking pictures.

“Wow. Really? Shameless.” He loses his patience. “I don’t appreciate being followed and stalked everywhere I go, you know. She is a fan and we took a picture. Sorry I couldn't satisfy your gossip.” He can’t stop himself. “Do you guys really get paid for this? Pushing this  scummy, heteronormative agenda on celebrities hoping for a sliver of drama just so you can get a few clicks in by exaggerating and lying? We are people too, just like you. Normal people. So no, you don't get to make assumptions about me or pry into my life.”

“Heteronormative? Are you saying you are something other than straight? Is this official?” The woman interjects. Namjoon is fuming.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Namjoon gets up and storms away from the lit up booth and over to his staff, who briskly apologize to the interviewer and team and take him back to the studio.

Namjoon knows he went too far. Luckily his agent made sure that the interview would be scrapped and not published, but that is now an entire news group that BigHit won’t ever get an interview with again. Honestly they didn’t need the extra publicity, since at this point any company would be more than ecstatic to host an interview from BTS, but this was supposed to be a series of solo interviews from each of the artists, which would have no doubt been popular. Still, he didn't feel bad. Too many times have people asked BTS questions about their private lives and tried exposing them with false accusations and start scandals, none of which ever stick due to ARMY being so protective of them, but it took a toll on their mental health sometimes. Namjoon sinks into the back seat of the car as he looks out the window, listening to the patter of rain on the roof and watching the street lights reflect off the dripping window. 

My ideal woman, huh?

He reflects. Everywhere he goes where people ask him these questions, they always say “ideal girl” or “woman,” always assuming he is straight. I mean, he IS straight, but it bothers him nonetheless. It’s not like anyone bothers to ask, they always just assume. He knows that people just want to hear him talk about specific traits and types to fulfill people’s fantasies. It seems people also assume that all ARMYs are straight fangirls. It’s 2023, how are people still pushing heteronormative standards? He takes out his phone to see new messages in the BTS group chat.

WWH: How’d the interview go?

Namjoon sighed and typed out his response.

Me: Horribly. Pretty sure I ruined it for   all of us, sorry guys. JK: How so?  Me: I lost it and kind of snapped V: Dang, sounds like they deserved it then.  No worries man, probably for the best Me: Stupid private questions. I got  too pissed though, it is my fault, but still Y/N: Ew, don’t they have anything better to do? Jimin: Fr. Don’t feel bad, I would have  been short tempered too J-hope: Does this mean we have a free  weeknd? WWH: Nice spelling J-hope: thx dad JK: Hell yeah, let's do a movie night! (read by SUGA, WWH, J-hope, and 4 others)

Namjoon puts his phone away and looks out the window again. 

“Are you saying you are something other than straight? Is this official?” 

The woman’s words echo in his head longer than he would have liked. Namjoon has always liked women, that he is certain of. Ever since he was little he had crushes on disney princesses and actresses all the time. He had his fair share in heartbreaks and girlfriends in school too. Ever since becoming an idol, however, everything relating to romance seems to have left his life and been put in the back of his mind. He knows it's because they are idols that they aren't allowed to publicly date. That isn’t to say however that he didn't fantasize about having a partner or being in a romantic relationship. Despite BTS being his family and never truly being alone, he couldn’t help feeling lonely in some ways. These days, Namjoon finds himself stuck in his room working even in his free time. Maybe this weekend becoming suddenly free would be a blessing after all.

Namjoon walks into what he and BTS know as the “safehouse,” which is a large home away from the city where all 8 members have access at all times and their own separate rooms. They usually go to the safehouse when they want to meet up, have events and parties or just whenever they want to get out to somewhere private from their own separate homes. The other members are already gathered around in the dining room as he comes through the door.

“Hey, there he is! Welcome to the finest restaurant in all of Korea.” Hoseok yells over from the table where they are all feasting on what looks like bbq.

“Join us, I slaved away at making this for all of you, congratulate me.” Jin’s bubbly voice calls.

“As if. All you did was order the food hyung, don’t act like you prepared it!” Jimin teases Jin and reaches over to put some beef over the bbq and then dips it in some sauce.

“Ah, perfect. I’m starving.” Namjoon puts away his things and sits down in the empty chair next to Y/N. They all get into food and conversation, laughing and smiling and having a great time.

“I’m curious, what did she ask you that sent you over the edge?” Jungkook quired, sitting back as Taehyung brought over some beers.

“The interviewer started asking about my ideal type of woman, a question which I can usually dodge, but she was persistent. Then they pulled up pictures of me back when I was visiting Switzerland where I met a fan and they tried to frame it like a secret girlfriend situation.”

“They followed you to Switzerland?” Y/N looked up, a disgusted look on his face.

“Guess so. Anyways after that she-” Namjoon cuts himself off.

 “Are you saying you are something other than straight? Is this official?” Her words came bubbling up again, making him feel nauseous.

“She what?” Taehyung presses. Namjoon shakes his head.

“Nothing. I just got pissed, snapped at her and left after that.” He avoids eye contact with any of them, hoping someone will change the subject.

“I think you were in the right. I would have been so snarky.” Yoongi speaks up from the corner seat. 

“Yeah, don’t think about it too much man. There will always be more interviews, with better and more respectful people.” Jungkook says, trying to make him feel better.

The conversation shifts from there and as the night goes on, the boys get more and more inebriated. Jin is practically howling from laughter at Hoseok, who is falling over in his chair with his face bright red. Jimin is half asleep, Jungkook is not far behind him, and Taehyung is talking about some nonsense with Yoongi. Y/N and Namjoon seem to be the better off in the bunch, simply making stupid jokes and laughing at the other members. Namjoon speaks up.

“I’m drunk, gonna turn in for the night. As should all of you.”

“I think Jimin is already there.” Jin laughs and points at Jimin, who is face flat on the table.

“I’ll take him to his room.” Jungkook sighs and lifts Jimin up and carries him away. The other members eventually all go to their respective rooms also. Namjoon makes his way to his room. 

Namjoon closes his door and goes to get ready for bed. His tipsiness makes him stumble sometimes, but he manages to get changed and brush his teeth. After getting ready, he practically falls into his bed and crawls underneath the light brown and white covers. He drifts into thought.

Ideal woman… 

Namjoon starts thinking about what he finds attractive. He imagines lean, fit bodies and smooth skin. Silky hair and slightly parted lips. Sparkling eyes and light voices that entice him. He imagines a pair of hands caressing his face, feels the hands move down his neck and to his chest, constantly moving. The hands then become arms attached to a lean and skinny body, a dancer’s body. He feels the body with his own hands, moving to the sides of the person and down to their hips. The person materializes even more, revealing defined abs that lead to a man’s chest and strong thighs that straddle Namjoon’s middle, masculine shoulders that carry beauty and grace. The person is a beautifully built man. The face is blurred, but he can make out plump lips that shine, half parted in a silent breath. The figure leans down into Namjoon, hands on his chest and head as it gets closer to his face. Namjoon is lost in a trance by this beautiful person, and leans in to meet his lips with theirs, when he is met with air. He opens his eyes to his empty room and him in bed.

What a strange dream. 

He winces as he adjusts under the covers and discovers that he is partially hard.

Great, just what I need. 

He doesn’t have the energy to fix it right now, so he just takes a deep breath and ignores it. Eventually, Namjoon drifts off to sleep.

The next day arrives quickly, and the members are all hung over in the house waking each other up and groaning in the living room.

“What’s everyone’s plans today?” Jimin pipes up, cheerfully, as if he didn't get absolutely wasted the night before. J-hope looks up at him from his fetal position.

“How are you a real person?” 

“Yoongi-ssi and I were going fishing if anyone wants to join us.” Jin puts the offer out there, to which nobody volunteers.

“I thought you hate fishing?” Y/N asks Yoongi.

“I do, but it makes Jin hyung happy. And it's more fun with friends.” Yoongi half spoke, half groaned his response.

“Awe, he does have a heart!” Jimin teased. Yoongi curled deeper into his blanket in response.

“I want to go hiking today, anyone want to come with? We can get ramyeon after and karaoke!” Jungkook suggests.

“Oh, that sounds fun! I'll come.” Hoseok blinks the sleepy away from his eyes and nods.

“Jimin and I will come too.” Taehyung holds up his arm.

“Do I get any say in this?” Jimin smacks Taehyung’s shoulder.

Guess that leaves Namjoon and Y/N. Namjoon turns to him.

“Would you be interested in going to the National Folk Museum of Art in Seoul? I haven’t been there in a while.” Namjoon and Y/N both share a passion for minimalistic art and artists as well as art history. Y/N looked up at him and smiled through groggy eyes.

“Sure, that sounds fun!” 

Cute. 

“Sounds like we all got plans then! Get up and get going boys, or these hangovers are gonna take your Friday away.” Jin initiates the march to get ready for the day and get going. As everyone gets up and gets ready to leave, Namjoon also stands up. Y/N stays on the couch for a second before groaning and putting his arms out.

“Help me up hyung, i'm dying.” Namjoon smiles and exaggeratedly pulls Y/N up from the couch.

“I take it I will be driving us?” Y/N teases.

“It’s safer for us and the universe that I don’t.” Namjoon laughs and lets Y/N go upstairs. He trips over the first step, making Namjoon smile.

Was he always this adorable?

Some time goes by and Namjoon gets a text.

Y/N: I’ll be ready in 15, meet me in my car? Me: SOunds good Y/N: Lol typo

He puts his phone away and gets ready. After 15 minutes of looking for a good art museum outfit (he decides on jeans and a hoodie because he couldn't decide) Namjoon heads downstairs and to the parking lot to meet Y/N. He sees the light mint green beetle with its engine on and in the driver’s seat is Y/N, in what looks to be a brown sweater and a green beret with thin circle glasses. He opens the passenger door and buckles his seatbelt.

“You look nice! Perfect for the museum.” Namjoon compliments his outfit.

“Ah, a classic Namjoon look.” Y/N laughs, pointing out Namjoon’s plain outfit.

“Yeah well, I'm okay with being inconspicuous.” 

“You will be my staff as I get all the attention!!” Y/N smiles and gives Namjoon’s shoulder a light punch. Namjoon looks around the inside of Y/N’s car, taking it all in. The interior is light brown and clean, Y/N likes to keep his things tidy. On the windshield mirror is hanging a car freshener that looks like a daisy. Y/N turns on his bluetooth and connects his phone to the radio.

“Any music suggestions?” He asks Namjoon.

“I want to listen to what you want. What are you listening to these days?” Namjoon inquires. It has been a while since he hung out with any of the members one on one. Y/N nods and scrolls through his phone as if it was a super important decision.

“I need to find songs that you wont judge me for.” Y/N laughs, half joking.

“You know I listen to a bit of everything, not much can surprise me.” Namjoon reassures him. Y/N smiles and a song begins to play. Namjoon recognizes it as Troye Sivan’s “Lucky Strike.” Y/N bops his head along to the music and looks at Namjoon for approval.

“I know Troye Sivan. He has a great voice.” 

“God, what I would GIVE to do a collab with him!” Y/N reels, then puts the car in reverse and they set off. The car ride is pleasant and calming as they take turns recommending songs and vibing to them, moments of silent listening as well as gushing about artists they like.

“I wish we could be more open in our music. Like Troye Sivan or Frank Ocean.” Y/N expresses. “I mean, I know we technically can, and there is nothing wrong with expressing your true self through music, but I feel like we have to be so on edge because of how many people listen to our music.” Namjoon understands what he means.

“I get it. We have to tiptoe around certain topics because of how international our reach is.” Y/N nods solemnly to Namjoon's response.

“Yeah. I just wish I could write about what I want without worrying about scandals. We write about girls all the time, I'd love to write a boy love song.” Y/N is focused on the road. Namjoon turns to look at him when he says that, but doesn't say anything. They bop their heads to music the whole way, Y/N making silly gestures and expressions to the music as he drives. A slight burning feeling arises in Namjoon's chest, and upon realizing he is staring quickly glances away and swallows.

Must still be hungover.

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Aaaaaa what did you guys think?!?! I have SO much more written that I'm excited to share with you about this story. If you enjoyed and want to see more chapters please show this some love and tell me what you think below!!!

Stay tuned, Jae loves you <3

[not-goldy]

They think so because of his choices in chapter 2. I remember them being so defensive when anons asked them about why JK had songs with female protagonist and mocked antis for thinking that he's het, said female subject is for the technicality. But the same person is saying his chapter 2 decisions looks like he's preparing Fandom for a dating reveal with a woman just so he can show a partner of opposite gender to the society, for convenience. They said he will never ever reveal a male partner, understandable. We all know both of them are not gonna explicitly come out but they can always keep quiet and decide not to have any public relationship... there are many korean actors who are 40+ but have no public gf or relationship till now. They say Jikook may remain as Tony and Jaeduck ? Idk.. that couple but also says he will leave Jimin for a better future.. because that's what his social status in korea is.

Previously they said even his antis in kside don't believe that leaked video as it was blurry and even if it's real it doesn't mean they are dating. Now she's saying his video with that woman didn't made any noise in kside because they are already prepared for a dating news and kinda know about it.. just like taennie. They have a side blog where they stan other kpop groups and ship some of duos, there they said none of kpop ships comes close to what Jikook has. Recently they said no one in their right mind in Kside even cares about Jimin Daeun rumor as it's BS... but I bet in next week they are gonna say Jimin is also preparing Fandom for a dating reveal with her 🤡🤡🤡🤡 coz that opposite r their answers from one to another ask lol.

This is the same person who thinks JK didn't had any extra push from company, it's all his power and he deserves a grammy for seven when we all know how much scooter pushed seven to be top. This is the same person who thinks Jimin wasn't even sabogated or how everyone is living in lalaland at hybe.

This is not making followers insecure but straight up maniacs. Every Jikooker in right mind will always keep it in mind that maybe we could be wrong about them. But straight up mocking them saying Jikook are in love but also JK is getting ready for a dating reveal with a girl is so ???? 🤯🤯🤯🤯

Oooooohhh I see. Thanks for the explanation.

I see what they are saying here and in part I understand what they mean or where they are coming from.

It's not so crazy a theory to be honest. It's nothing that hasn't happened before. People fake date, spread relationship rumors or even marry to cover up their gayness. And if you are dating a closeted person who tend to develop that insecurity cos there's always that possibility they will burrow further into the closet than stand in their truth and claim you choose you or fight for you and with you.

I think Lil Nas X has a video that explores this much prevalent and painful queer experience you can check it. It's I want. Troye Sivan too. Blue Neighborhood watch/listen to the entire song series. Particularly Talk me down. Those are just my favorite queer artists but there's more who touch on this aspect of queer experience.

Partner abandonment is a huge challenge that faces the community especially as not everyone has the strength or luxury to stand and live their truth.

Hearing you say these things about Jikool actually makes me sad 😔

I don't want yet another "friend" to abandon Jimin😔

He already complained of friends betraying him and all and how he does so much for their love and I think he deserves love he deserves happiness he deserves someone who's interactions with him will heal him and nourish him and I think Jungkook- whatever you think their relationship status is- does that for him😔

People are so cruel when they say I wish Jikook break up, or that Vmin is crap and Jimin needs to cut Tae loose, like yall are wishing for Jimin to be abandoned 😔

You are wishing for him to experience the pain and trauma of partner separation or disconnecting from his primary sources of connection be it friendship or romance. All because you hate Tae and JK. They wish Tae Kook with develop a connection and "free" Jimin. And these are his fans yall. His own "fans."

For Jikook this is not something new to them either, all these "tattoo girl scandal" and Paris club scandal and rumor has it they have a gf and thus and that- they are all just ploys to cleanse their queer image by fans and to some extent the company who plays complacent in these situations neither refuting those rumors or refuting them too late whether advertently or inadvertently.

There's a queer idol who said his management would deliberately leak rumors about him dating girls or would ask him to build his body and become hyper masculine just so he appears "straight" to the public.

So perhaps you an disagree with her takes on these. I certainly do- unless Jungkook has done something really controversially gay I don't see why they would want to stage a queer cleanse for him this time around.

I mean he even said he wasn't dating no girl. If he wanted to queer cleanse he would have kept absolutely quite about it- at least for a while just as Hybe asked the tattoo girl to keep quiet about those rumors. Later she had to come out and throw hybe under the bus because the rumors were harming her- until she of course switched up and played it up.

It's messy. Kpop is messy.

Everyone is entitled to their views. Time will tell which views are more accurate than not is what I always say.

[aronpipcr]

troye sivan via instagram

[punkpillowprincess]

Troye Sivan - Barcelona, Spain ✨

[showmeyouricons]

[nctallure]

AMELIE, also known as anchali ratanaporn, was born on the 16th of october 1997 in bangkok, thailand to a chef mother. her mother was a single working mom and raised her daughter by herself until she turned six. a little while after anchali's sixth birthday, her mother finally decided to go out and look for a relationship after seven years of struggling to keep herself alive. anchali's biological father was never present, not even when her mother was pregnant with her but her mother is now in a happy relationship with her chef step-father whom anchali loves a lot.

going to her mom's workplace every now and then anchali fell in love with cooking. as a kid, she always wanted to be a cook or work in a restaurant of some kind. she never really wanted to become an idol in the first place, all she did was give her childhood friend company to one of the k-pop companies audition and got casted at the age of 14. she was very hesitant about it but after getting forced by her friend she sang some poem she was learning in school. after a few months she finally moved to south korea for training.

amelie was the fifth member to be announced and also ranks fifth in terms of popularity. the woman has gone viral many times for her visuals and vocal skills.

━━ ✿ PERSONAL INFORMATION ⭒

birth name. anchali ratanaporn

date of birth. 16 october 1997

birthplace. bangkok, thailand

zodiac. libra

languages spoken. thai, korean, english

ethnicity. thai

nationality. thai

relationship status. single

love affair. n/a

family members. mom, step-dad

━━ ✿ GROUP INFORMATION ⭒

stage name. amelie

debut date. 28 july 2016

positions. main vocal, lead dancer, sub rapper

debut song. boombayah

representative emoji. 🦋

━━ ✿ PHYSICAL INFORMATION ⭒

face claim. nicha ❛ minnie ❜ yontaranka

height. 170cm ( 5'7 )

blood type. o positive

━━ ✿ TRIVIAL INFORMATION ⭒

education. ?

favorite musicians. troye sivan, chase atlantic

favorite songs. strawberries and cigarettes ( troye sivan ) ohmami ( chase atlantic, maggie lindemann ) birthday ( ten ) k. ( cas )

ideal type. ❛ um.. anyways..❜

job if she wasn't an idol. ❛ unemployed. i'd be unemployed. ❜

[kcyars189]

FASHION

BEAUTY

VESPA VERSE

Here’s Why HBO’s The Idol Deserves All The Hate It Got From The Internet

- Alexa! Please delete all The Weeknd songs from my playlist.

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Ekta Sinha

EKTA SINHA

JULY 3, 2023

The Idol

We watch shows to escape our boring realities, at times to find solace and mostly for a dose of entertainment. We all have a preferred genre, from romance and slice-of-life to a lot of us oddly enjoy crime documentaries and thrillers. But let’s face it, the content we consume online does impact us. Now imagine coming from work and binge-watching HBO’s The Idol, directed by Euphoria creator Sam Levinson, the show with layers of misogyny and an uncomfortable depiction of the ‘male gaze’. Well, I may have a different opinion (though, I hope not), but if you missed watching this show, believe me, you’re doing fine.

The Idol was released with a comprehensive storyline to shed light on the toxic work environment in the music industry. While one may expect it to move forward to show how pop stars are actually ‘created’ and promoted by sought-after music labels for their benefit, the show turns into a compilation of sleazy videos, all this in the first 15 minutes. The hype around the show is mostly contributed by the fact that it stars The Weeknd, a Canadian singer who goes by the name Abel Tesfaye, whose fans were thrilled to see him act in his first-ever show. However, it didn’t work well for the singer-turned-actor as fans took to the internet and called the show ‘cringe’ and criticised its unimpressive and poorly written plot.

The Plot And Its Plight

The protagonist, the ‘Idol’, is Jocelyn, played by Lily-Rose Depp, a teenage pop star who is about to make a comeback after a public mental meltdown. However, after a personal image of Jocelyn gets leaked online, the sales of her show’s tickets get impacted, and this happens before the release of her new single. While experiencing a hard time personally and professionally, Jocelyn seeks out Tedros, played by The Weeknd, a DJ and club owner who wins her heart (eye rolls).

The Idol Lily Rose Depp GIF - The Idol Lily Rose Depp Jennie Kim - Discover & Share GIFs

While Tedros as a character is problematic, which comes through loose dialogue-writing, Jocelyn, in a typical plot, falls for the wrong guy. What seems like abuse to the audience was portrayed as love for Jocelyn. At one point, I thought Sam Levinson had taken the plot from ChatGTP!

Sexy or Sexist

If reports are to be believed, the shooting for the show began with director Amy Seimetz who was later replaced by Sam Levinson. Seimetz abruptly left the six-episode series after completing almost 80% of it, according to a shocking undercover revelation by a publication that claims that The Idol’s co-creator, The Weeknd, disapproved of the feminist eye of Seimetz.

Apart from the storyline and dialogues, the costumes given to Jocelyn further add to the sexist portrayal of the character. Mostly dressed strings and scraps of fabric, it was pushed beyond the actual necessity of the plot. We all know sex sells, but The Idol’s sex scenes are painful, sleazy, gross, and borderline abusive to watch.

A few fans also called the show ’50 Shades of Tesfaye’ because of the extreme objectification of women especially in the sex scenes of the second episode. If that grossed you out, you’d not even want to watch the fourth episode where the torture scene of Troye Sivan’s character Xander with a dog collar is haunting, to say the least. When Depp was quizzed about these scenes in particular during the promotions, she shut the discussion calling it an ‘artistic vision’.

The Acting Ache

When the cast was first announced, the internet found it was a dreamy one. But as the episodes were released, the fans and audience were proved wrong. Naturally, in a show where outrageous visuals took centre stage, performance was the least of concern for the actors. However, the audience was quick to judge, and rightly so. Depp, who comes with some acting experience, failed to impress with her acting skills, let alone The Weekend who was doing it for the first time. Let us not get started on hideous erotic dance moves and expressions.

The Idol also marks K-Pop royalty, BLACKPINK’s member Jennie’s acting debut, which we pray never should have happened. Jennie’s barely-there dialogue delivery is awkward, with no facial expression. Even her fandom couldn’t save her from this catastrophe where the makers just roped her to cash in on her popularity.

The case in point here is that it’s not the sex scenes that may make you uncomfortable, it’s the treatment. The characters are not just misogynistic and sleazy, they will make you rethink the definition of artistic vision and value. Whether or not the scenes and dialogues support the character’s journey and progression or the story or vice-versa is food for thought. For now, the show ending an episode early with no traces of renewal is the only consolation we are happy with.

Also, read Food Thirst Trap Videos Are All Over My Social Media And I Don’t Have The Slightest Clue Why

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