#you do you but that whole idea isn't my jam

[qqueenofhades]

I bought your 'Empire' the other day (which I am excited about; I haven't started it yet), but somehow completely missed that you had written historical fiction, and about the Plantagenets, my favourite historical dynasty, so I'll be jumping on that.

I was wondering if you had recommendations for historical fiction set during the Plantagenet reign? I've tried Sharon Kay Penman and unfortunately didn't get on with her writing, which is a shame as I've heard good things about her series. I know Philippa Gregory has several novels set during that time period, but her books seem to be verging on bodice rippers, which isn't what I'm looking for. Was just curious if you had any suggestions for well-researched fiction set during the Plantagenet reign.

This ask has been sitting in my inbox for several days (my apologies) largely because I was trying to think of a more helpful answer for you. Medieval historical fiction is VERY hit and miss for me, not least because it is often written by people who, uh, are not historians and thus have Certain Ideas (TM) about what the medieval period is like. Or they want to use various aesthetics, or they want to make some (usually questionable) point about how women were treated in the past, or they just go whole-hog on total nonsense. As an example of all of these things at once, let us all stare in horror at this recently-released book description together:

(The book is called the Stone Witch of Florence, by the way. I took one look at this and ran screaming. WHY.)

A stone witch?? So she channels the power of gemstones like a modern-day Instagram healing crystals influencer??? BUT ZOMGZ WITCHCRAFT. In the middle of the Black Death. "Unorthodox cures" you say. But they also need holy relics for protection, and I totally trust the author to understand about medieval hagiography/cult of the saints. Totally. We definitely won't get some half-baked comparison between Sekrit Women Magical Gems Which Really Work and Dark Ages Church Superstition Holy Relics Which Are A Fraud, or.... something??? And our nobly mistreated protagonist will super definitely be a real physician if she gets these and never ever accused of witchcraft (which LET US ALL SAY IT TOGETHER IS AN EARLY MODERN THING!!!!) Because medieval medicine was just a bunch of gemstone vibes anyway! Makes total sense!

...my head hurts.

Anyway, while not all examples are this egregious, the point is: I love historical fiction, but I almost always can't read it when it's set in the medieval era. I read Sharon Kay Penman a while ago and enjoyed her stuff at the time, though I have assorted gripes with it on a stylistic/historical level. While Philippa Gregory does have real academic credentials, she likewise has gone totally down the bodice-ripper alternate-history crackpot theory Secret Women Magic version of things, which is... fine if that's your jam, but just like you, it is not mine. I thus have to read fiction which is set in other periods or which I know less about or where at least I am more capable of turning off my brain and accepting things for the sake of the story. So as you see, I unfortunately don't have many useful suggestions for you in this field, since the kind of medieval historical fiction that I like to recommend is, say, The Name of the Rose. Which is terrific and written for someone of a professional medievalist's level of knowledge, but is not exactly everyone's cup of tea when they just want something fun and easy to understand.

I am, of course, happy to give other book recommendations if you'd like to broaden your request, and I'll do my best to think -- but yes! As I said, I wish I could be more helpful here. I shall persist.

(Also, of course: thanks for buying EMPIRE! I do hope you enjoy.)

[zivazivc]

Holy shit! Ziva, I gotta share this with you!

How well would this version of Lady Gaga's "Heavy Metal Lover" fit your Floyd when he's on drugs and partying?

uhm, no offense but Lady Gaga is the probably the furthest from the music at the raves they go to in my headcanon. The pop trolls are still trapped in the tree/in hiding during that time period so there's very little pop trolls around hinterlands, and the band stays clear of non-troll races, so there's no pop music at the places they visit. The only time they hear it is if it's on the radio (e.g. music from mount rageous).

The concerts they attend are mostly what their band plays; nu metal or other kinds of alt. rock, and the parties they go to aren't much different. The underground raves I imagine are mostly located on the outskirts of the techno kingdom. That's Liv's domain, and she usually takes them to the ones with her kind of music which is drum & bass/electronic rock.

I have little music playlists for each of them and these are three songs from Liv's list (it's mostly Pendulum lol):

but if they go to a proper techno trolls' rave then i imagine this type of music playing there

[maraskywalkers]

I want more Givenson fic with jealous Raylan but not the possessive kind more like he didn't realize he has feelings for Tim & doesn't know how to handle it type thing

and it could be because of anything like an OMC or whatever but I'm also digging the idea of a temporary Boyd/Tim thing whether it's just a flirtatious thing or an enemies with benefits hookup thing or something IDK but Boyd is so smooth & charismatic & also can be manipulative & just the idea of him getting under Tim's skin??

and like I'm a sucker for low key jealous/insecure Tim (who definitely has feelings for Raylan & knows it) especially in regards to Raylan's history with Boyd & like Boyd maybe playing on that a bit but the idea of him also being able to get under Raylan's skin about Tim??

basically I guess I want an endgame Givenson fic in which Boyd is an instigator with all the jealousy miscommunication hurt/comfort romance mutual pining Raylan/Tim goodness?

[satorusugurugurl]

If this request makes you uncomfortable or isn’t something you want to write, I apologize and please ignore my request!

Heyy! I was wondering if I could request a satoru x reader x Suguru smut? With like, some bdsm mixed in yk. Tying reader up, satoru is a tease, and likes to make her squirm and ask questions he know she can’t answer because Suguru is fucking her throat. But Suguru is mean. Mean and tougher than satoru. He tells satoru to stop being so gentle with you, that not only do you deserve rough treatment but you like it. And satoru listens to him, of course. I just want them to run through me like a train😞

Also same mean geto anon (again lol) I’m gonna just sign off w an emoji now :3 -🍭

Hi Anon!

This isn't my cup of tea, it's my FUCKING jam!!

Summary: Gojo and Geto had been on a two-week-long mission, which hadn't gone as smoothly as Suguru wanted. He was pent-up and frustrated. So, of course, Gojo called you to warn you it might not be a good idea to come over. You, of course, did not heed his warning. The second you get home, you realize that you were screwed.

Word Count: 3,706

Warnings: BDSM, rough sex, oral sex, so much sex, degradation, teasing, the smuttiest of smut

A/N: Good God, Satoru x Reader x Suguru is my weakness!! I put my whole heart into this. Geto Suguru, teacher AU, is my kryptonite!

Part Two

She Likes it Like That

“Y/N babe,” Gojo said in a hushed whisper, “you probably shouldn't come home tonight.”

You cocked an eyebrow, looking away from the first year's training. “I'm sorry, did you just tell me not to come home. . .to our apartment?” The world ‘our’ came out like acid.

Gojo sighed overdramatically. “Don't say it like that. I'm trying to save you! Suguru is in such a bad mood.” You listened to him walking around. “I sighed out loud when I noticed the last of my mochi was gone. Fuck you for that, by the way, and do you know what he said to me?” You pinched at the bridge of your nose, waiting for the rant to continue. “He told me to shut the fuck up! For sighing!”

“What did you do to piss him off? Oh, and just an FYI, I bought you more mochi, asshole.”

“Oh—” silence, “thank you-I’m sorry, please don't return it.”

“Satoru! Forget about the mochi. What happened to Sugu?”

The mission your partners were sent on did not go as planned. Their hotel had flooded; it was not like they had time to consider sleeping. The higher-ups sent them to an abandoned mountainside village full of cursed spirits. Poor Suguru had to swallow dozens for nearly two weeks. Gojo had enough; he couldn't stand the pained expression on his face as he gagged the last spirit down. So he decided to Hollow-Purpled the entire village.

The second they got back, the higher-ups scolded the hell out of them. Chastising them, complaining that they didn't do a good enough job. After all their hard work, the time they spent away from home, from you. Those bastards dared to complain about their hard work. It sent Suguru into a terrible mood, one that was bound to end with either a fight or someone getting fucked into the mattress.

One thing about Suguru was that when he was pissy, things felt out of his control. He needed to take control back. Which meant he wanted to have sex. He would be rough, really rough, tying either you or Satoru up, not letting you go until he had calmed down. Or if one of you was fucked too stupid to continue, his eyes focused on the other that wasn't tied up.

“So please, just stay with Ieiri tonight. I'm going to lock myself in my room. Last time he was this pissed off, the both of us were so sore we couldn't move.”

“Ugh, fuckin’ whatever.” This whole situation wasn't fair. You hated how your boyfriends were mistreated.

“Yeah, just stay the—oh, hi Suguru.” There was a shuffling in the background. “No, I wasn't talking shit.” Satoru nervously laughed. “Look, Sugu—no, put down the rope—”

“Toru?” Panic for your boyfriend sank into your stomach.

“Hey! Wait a second—Sugu—”

Before any other indication of what was happening came through the receiver, the other line cut off. So you quickly yelled to the students you had to leave and took off. By the time you made it, you were breathless from running and realized that in your panic, you left your keys at work.

You picked up the spare key hidden under the doormat. Just as you were about to unlock the door, it flew open. You slowly blinked, looking up at a very irritated Suguru. The man radiated gloom and tension. He was in his sweatpants, and his hair was tied in a messy bun, and, dear God, he looked pent up.

“Why the fuck are you using the spare key?”

“I-I uh—”

“Ooooh~ there she is~!” a hand gently rested against Suguru’s shoulder as Satoru peered down at you from behind your dark-haired boyfriend. “There's our girl!”

It only took a moment to see that Satoru mirrored Suguru’s frustration and anger. Oh fuck. The key fell from your hand as you took a step back. Suguru was demanding and rough when he was pent up. Satoru, on the other hand, was a tease. He liked pushing you, making you cry. Both of them being in a pissy mood simultaneously, this was a nightmare for you.

“Y-You, I thought you were in trouble!”

“Oh yeah, no.” Suguru’s soured face slowly twisted into a smirk as Satoru licked his lip. “But you~?” Suguru’s hand darted out, grabbing you by the front of your shirt, preventing you from moving further back. “You're royally fucked.” Before you even had a chance to respond, Suguru and Satoru grabbed you, yanking you inside.

“Awe~” Satoru hummed as he trailed his kiss up the bare thighs he lay between. “Look at you~ trying to clamp your thighs shut.” Gojo’s fingers were buried deep inside of you. Finger fucking you to the edge of yet another orgasm he would deny. “But you can't, can you~? Suguru’s got you all tied to the bed, spread out for us to use you.” A muffled moan escaped you. “Huh? What was that princess? You gotta use your big girl words.” Satoru tilted his head, cupping his free hand around the back of his ear. “Oooh! That's right, you can't talk when getting your throat fucked.”

You gagged as Suguru's cock hit the back of your throat. He was quiet, his eyes shut in concentration. He looked so fucking hot, so focused on the feeling of your mouth. Sweat was beading on his forehead as he pulled in and out of your mouth, grunting softly as you hollowed your cheeks. But the more Satoru spoke, the more Suguru knitted his eyebrows.

“I bet you want me to stuff your pussy, too, don't you~? You want to be spit-roasted between your two boyfriends?” Your pussy twitched at his words. “Oooh~!! Your cunt just twitched. Is that what our sweet girl wants—”

“Satoru,” Suguru snarled, “shut the fuck up.”

“Well, excuse the fuck out of me. Y/N likes it when I tease her.”

Suguru tsked, pulling his thick cock out of your mouth. You gasped and coughed, spit and precum coating your chin. Between your pants and the gasps for air, Suguru went to what you thought would be a head pat. Instead, his fingers tangled in your air with a hard yank, pulling you up to look down at Satoru. His face was flushed, cerulean eyes wide as he looked between his two partners.

“Look at the fucking slutty face she's making.” The grip on your hair tightened. “You think she looks like this because of your pitiful teasing?” A shaky moan escaped you as he tightened his grip harder. “No, she looks like this because this little slut likes it rough.”

Fuck, you wanted more, to run your hands over Suguru’s arms, to grip his cock, urging him to keep fucking your throat. You were desperate to trap Satoru's head firmly between your thighs, forcing him to kiss and lick your clit. Instead, you weakly tugged at the purple restraints tied to both your wrists and ankles. Suguru had set up the rigging underneath the mattress, making it impossible for you to move. Meaning if you wanted his cock back in your mouth or Satoru’s tongue inside of you, you had to wait for them.

What made it more frustrating was the fact that you were completely bare. Not allowing you to hide the way your body reacted to Suguru’s dirty words. He was telling the truth. And the truth was behind your body's reactions. Gojo could see it in the way your tight entrance clenched around his fingers. He could feel your pussy drip around him, your wetness running down his knuckles. Suguru was right; you did like it; no, like wasn't the right word.

You fucking loved it.

Suguru could see the wheels turning in Satoru’s head as his eyes glittered with lust and excitement. “Satoru~ do you finally see it?~” The way Suguru purred his name had Satoru’s cock throbbing. “You see why she came home, even though she knew she’d get fucked?”

“Yeah, yeah, she's a fucking slut.”

“Yeah, she is.” A sharp tug on your head made you yelp. Suguru grinned, cocking an eyebrow at you. “You want it rough? Want me to fuck your throat so hard you cry, pretty girl?”

“Y-Yes, please.”

Gripping his cock at the base, Suguru slapped his thick meat against your cheek. “That's a good girl. Now open up.” slowly, you opened your mouth to him. Watching your tongue slip out had his tip angry, throbbing red. “Now,” he smeared the beading precum over your bottom lip, “say ah~.”

“Ahh~” The second that sound left your pretty mouth Suguru shoved his cock in your mouth. Your eyes stung as tears filled your eyes.

Satoru’s fingers had stopped their slow movements inside of you. His mouth was dry as he gulped. Suguru had been rough before, but this was a whole new level. His thick fingers wrapped around your Y/H/C hair, holding your head in place. His hips pull back before slamming forward, his ass clenching with the force of each thrust. Blue eyes slowly trailed over to your face. Your eyes were red, big tears slowly down your cheeks, and your throat was fucked. Satoru swore he could see Suguru’s tip bulging in your slender neck.

This was fucking hot. Suguru’s bare back glittered in the low light of the bedroom, a sheen of sweat beaded over his toned muscles. It was like watching a god fuck a mortal Suguru radiated a dominating power as he watched their girlfriend choke and gag on his cock. Satoru’s cock was so hard it fucking hurt. Reaching down, he wrapped his hand around his throbbing shaft, jerking it slowly as he leaned down, kissing and nipping at your inner thighs.

The gentle kisses had you sighing contently around Suguru’s cock. Looking over his shoulder, Suguru sighed as he watched Satoru. His pink tongue was stuck out, gently teasing your damp folds. The sensation had you sighing around his dick, and that was not what he needed right this fucking second. Suguru wanted more; he needed it to relieve the tension in his shoulder. But that relief, the release he needed, wouldn’t happen, with Satoru teasing you like he loved to do.

“Satoru,” Suguru's voice was rough, “I just told you Y/N likes it rough.”

“Uh-huh~” Satoru’s voice was muffled as his face buried in your pussy, making you whine around the cock buried in your mouth.

“You’re not being rough enough.” Satoru pulled back, making you whine in protest. “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want to come down here and eat Y/N’s pussy while I get my dick sucked?”

“No.” The cocky smile that was beginning to form on Satoru’s face was suddenly gone as Suguru reached his free hand down, wrapping his fingers in soft white hair. “I want you to fucking eat her cunt out like you fucking hate her.” Your eyes rolled back as Satoru was slammed back down into your pussy. The moan that left his mouth vibrated just right against our clit, making you cry out. “Ah~ fuck yes.” Your cries vibrated around Suguru’s cock, just the way he wanted. “That’s it, Satoru, keep it up.”

“Mmmmph.” Finally, having a picture of how Suguru wanted him to act, Satoru found himself motivated. Again, it might be because his boyfriend was tugging and pulling at his sensitive hairline. Yeah, that was motivating him. Fuck you like he hated you, he could do that. He was just as pent-up as Suguru was.

Fingers slammed inside your pussy, fucking in and out of your tight hole with a force and speed that had you crying out in pleasure. Your moans felt so fucking good, and the more you opened your mouth to cry, the deeper Suguru fucked your throat. He hit the back over and over again, his hand pressing firmly against Satoru’s head, pushing him harder against your clit. The two of you moaned while your mouths were being used; the sounds of whimpers, squelches, and gagging were like a symphony to Suguru’s ears.

Out of all the ways for him to relieve his stress, this was by far his favorite.

“Hah—fuck keep that up, Satoru, bring her right to the edge, then stop. I want her cumming with both of us inside of her. Fucking her so rough she has to call out of work tomorrow and Friday.” The thought of that had you pulling on your restraints. “Oooh oh, you like that? You like knowing the two of us will make sure you can’t walk or talk tomorrow?” Your muffled moans were quickly molded into gags as Suguru roughly fucked your face. “Yeah, you fucking do, you nasty little slut.”

Your mind was spinning as you felt yourself climbing closer and closer to your orgasm. The room was so hot and reeked of sex. It was all you could do not to allow yourself to cum right then and there. Satoru could feel it, the way your little swollen clit throbbed against his tongue, how your walls clamped down on his fingers. He wanted to send you over the edge. He was close to following you as he fucked his hips helplessly into the mattress, wishing it was your wet pussy instead.

One orgasm wouldn’t hurt, would it? You had been so good to them, allowing the duo to drag you into the house, strip you in the entryway, and tie you to the bed. Plus, on top of all that, they had left you alone for two weeks. You had to rely on that stupid vibrator Suguru insisted on allowing you to keep. That stupid toy was nothing compared to his tongue. Which was probably why he was bringing you to a mind-blowing orgasm in under three minutes.

Yeah, he was going to let you cum.

Curling his fingers up into your g-spot, Satoru fucked you as fast as his wrist would allow. Suguru instantly knew what was happening. From the way your eyes shut to how loud you were moaning around him, you were seconds away from cumming. If he was in a better mood, he might have allowed it to happen. Unfortunately, he wasn’t done with you yet.

“Stop.” Suguru scolded, pulling Satoru away from your dripping sex.

Both you and Satoru made disapproving groans as your orgasm slowly faded out of sight. “Doesn’t she deserve a treat? She’s been so good!” Satoru whined, licking your juices off his lips.

“I agree. Y/N does deserve a reward. But you need to give it to her in the roughest way that you can.” Suguru pulled his cock out of your mouth, allowing you to catch your breath. “Look at it this way. We get to blow off the steam while we make up for making her play with herself for two weeks.”

“Huh?” Those words struck a different chord in Satoru, and his cock twitched.

“Y/N, sweetheart, how often would you say you played with yourself when we were gone.”

You swallowed at the air greedily. “I don’t know, seven, maybe eight times.” Both your boyfriends shuddered, hearing the hoarseness of your voice.

“And out of all of those times, did you cum as hard as you do with us.”

“Not at all. They were all baby orgasms.”

Suguru shut his eyes, nodding his head. “See, Satoru, not only does our little slut like us rough and demanding, but we have to make up for those eight little orgasms.” When the dark-haired man looked back at Satoru, he saw a flash of white before your scream of shock and please bounced off the walls.

Suguru’s eyes were slightly wide as his brain tried to catch up with what his eyes had just witnessed. What he saw was Satoru balls deep inside of you. His thrusts were sloppy and needy, and fuck you looked as stunned as Suguru. One second you had been empty, pussy craving a cock deep inside of it from the denied orgasm. In the blink of an eye, Satoru was fucking into you more brutal than he’d ever fucked you before.

“I fucking told you, that toy was nothing compared to us.” Satoru snarled against the crook of your neck, digging his teeth into the sensitive skin. “Fucking stupid toy, not pleasing my girl.”

“Oh my—fuck, holy fuck!” You cried out, mouth wide open. Giving Suguru the perfect opportunity to get back to fucking your throat. The bittersweet taste of pre-cum had your mouth watering. He returned to the brutal pace he was in several minutes again.

“She needs that Satoru. What if we get sent on another long mission? She’s just supposed to suffer?” The thought of that had Suguru tilting his head, bangs falling in front of his eye. “You know what, I think you might be on to something. If we take her toy away, then we’d have to fuck her even harder the next time we get home.”

Satoru’s teeth sank harder into your neck as the tip of his cock slammed almost too hard into your cervix, making you scream around Suguru. “Exactly. Let me use reversal red on it, Y/N, please, baby.” You started to shake your head in a desperate plea to let you keep it. But Suguru’s cock in your throat made it impossible to do so. “What was that? Oh, right, you have your mouth full.” His lips moved against your pulse as his fingers dug into your hips. “Guess we’ll just have to say the way your clamping down on my cock is a yes in our book.” Your eyes darted up to Suguru, who had bought you the toy, for help.

“Mhmm fuck, yeah, I’m pretty sure she just hummed an ‘uh-huh’ around my cock.”

You wanted to argue, to fight against this rash decision, but you felt so good it was almost impossible to care. You were screaming around Suguru’s cock. Tears streaming down your face, leaving behind trails of mascara. They were both being so mean and rough. God, it was so fucking good. Who cared about a clit sucker when your throat and pussy were being fucked into next week.

“She’s close.” Satoru cried out, his balls slapping against your ass. “Oh fuck she’s hugging my cock so tight I’m going to explode Suguru.”

With blurry eyes, you glanced up at Suguru. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes shut tight. “I know, oh fuck I know, I’m so close, Satoru, don’t fuckin’ stop, make her cum, make her cum so hard.” Both his hands grabbed your face fucking your throat roughly as Satoru cried out, his hand pressing roughly on your clit, rubbing it in fast circles.

That was all that you needed. You cried out, squirting all over Satoru’s crotch, abdomen, and the mattress. Your orgasm set a domino effect between your boyfriends. Suguru followed behind you, his body hunched over you, his hands gently squeezing your head as he filled your mouth full of his thick cum. You weakly tried swallowing all of it, but that was somewhat difficult as Satoru extended your orgasm.

His thumb continues to rub your clit until his face scrunch up, mouth open in a feral growl. Satoru's orgasm hit him like a punch in the gut. He fucked all three of you harder, closer to oblivion. The headboard slamming against the wall as the restraint dug into your wrists was the only thing grounding you to remain on Earth. Satoru didn’t let up on the rough thrusts until he felt his cum dripping around his cock onto the bed.

The throbbing pain in the back of your throat, deep inside of your pussy was all the confirmation you needed that your boyfriends had fulfilled their promise. Never in your life had you been fucked so roughly. But it was a pain that you warmly welcomed.

After coming down, Suguru was the first to move gently. The rough hands that had been holding you in a vice gently held you as he pulled his softening cock out of your mouth. “Lay down.” His gruff, gentle voice whispered as he helped rest you against a pillow.

“Oh fuck—“ Satoru lifted his head off your shoulder, “I haven’t cum that hard in a while.” He was so slow, pulling out of you, grimacing as you cried out. “Sorry, fuck I’m sorry, baby.”

You shut your eyes, listening to Satoru getting out of bed. You could hear water running in the bathroom as gentle fingers began undoing your restraints. “You did such a good job, Y/N,” Suguru whispered. “Such a good girl for us.” His praise had you humming happily as he made quick work of the rest of the ropes.

“Suguru, let’s order in, yeah?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

The next half hour was a blur of warm happiness. Satoru helped wash your body in a bubble bath before Suguru joined you, kneeling next to the tub, lovingly stroking your face and hair. After you were cleaned up, your hair brushed, and pajamas on. You crawled into your bed with fresh sheets and relaxed. Satoru and Suguru fluffed your pillows and brought you a cup of tea for your raw throat. When your dinner arrived, the three of you sat in bed together to eat as a B-grade horror movie played on the television.

After eating, Satoru left to throw out the take-out containers. “Mmm, thank you for letting us do all that,” Suguru said as he crawled into bed after his shower. “That mission, it was rough.”

“I’m always happy to help.” Your voice cracked, making Suguru frown. “Stop frowning,” you flicked his forehead. “I like it rough.”

The bed dipped, and Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist. “Y/N can handle it. She is dating the two strongest, after all.” Both you and Suguru scoffed, relaxing in the growing silence. “Oh, by the way, Y/N.”

“Yeah?” You yawned, snuggling into Suguru’s chest as he turned the bedside lamp off.

“Did you bring home my mochi?”

In the dark of the room, you heard a thump and Satoru’s whine before Suguru pulled the three of you closer to him. “Satoru shut the fuck up about the mochi.”

[ssentimentals]

come and get your love {kim mingyu}

pairing: kim mingyu x fem!reader

prompt: arranged marriage! AU, in which mingyu is a popular dj and fem!reader is a famous news reporter. it gets worse before it gets better.

warnings: none! it's not the usual sweet/fluffy stuff everyone is used from me though.

one.

mingyu stares at the window and wonders if he's ever heard of someone jumping out from the sixth floor. surely someone did, right? and they probably stayed alive, right?

'focus.' wonwoo hisses next to him, jamming his elbow hard to mingyu's right side.

mingyu blinks back to the present, looking at the contract in front of him. his sign looks almost foreign on it and to be honest the more he looks at it, the more this whole 'jumping out of the window on sixth floor' idea starts looking great. mingyu turns his head and his gaze lands on you. the only person here with who he's unfamiliar and isn't this ironic? how most unfamiliar person for him in this room is about to become the closest person to him in his life?

'thank you.' your voice is clear and you even muster a smile to the lawyer. a fake one, but still a smile. 'can we get going now?'

'where are hurrying, oh the love of my life?' mingyu asks, raising his voice to sound more dramatic. 'my legal wife, my petal-' wonwoo elbows him hard but mingyu keeps going. 'don't you want to get to know your husband more?'

mingyu waits with baiting breath for your reaction. it's a test from him, sort of. depending on how you'll react he is going to correct his behavior later on. your eyes bore into him with no emotion, nothing on your face betrays how you're feeling. staring at him for few seconds, you simply stand up and walk away, not gracing him with any kind of reply. wonwoo sighs like he's dying next to him but mingyu pays him no mind; he saw your eyes and despite how well you tried to hid it, he saw it - emotion. and he is going to see it again.

two.

'is that wall really that more interesting than me?' mingyu asks, turning towards you. 'it can't be.'

he watches as you slowly turn, facing him. it's been a week since he last saw you and now that you two are back together for fittings, he can't help it. mingyu is not sure what's wrong with him but something about you makes him itchy. he wants to poke you, annoy you, ask you questions, talk to you - anything to get your attention. and when he has it now in form of your raised eyebrow, he can't help but grin. 'so. anything you want to ask from me, my wife?'

your lips twitch and he spent too much time with wonwoo to be able to recognize when someone is trying to hide a smile - it's exactly what you're doing right now. he probs even further: 'i wonder if you're one of those sirens. do you think your voice will lure me in and that's why you're staying silent?'

you uncross your legs and his eyes zero on that motion, focusing a bit too hard on how pretty and long they are. how good they look in those black straight jeans. how nicely they'd look wrapped around-

'it is,' you say, voice not as cold as last time but still rather emotionless. 'the wall, i mean. it is more interesting than you.'

mingyu fakes a gasp, clutching at his chest in an horribly outstaged offence. 'i'll have you know, i'm plenty interesting.' there's a smirk in the corner of your lips and it's such a sexy look on you that mingyu gets thrown off for a second. 'c'mon, ask me something.'

you sigh like he's the biggest annoyance in your life but mingyu sees the way you're biting your inner cheek in order not to smile and he's winning. he's so, so winning. 'mingyu,' you start and he likes the way you say his name. 'are you very upset that there'll be no more parties on ibiza with some hot models for you? now, that you have a wife?'

mingyu blinks. icy chills run down his spine and it's a struggle to keep his expression neutral. 'keeping tabs on me, wifey?' he asks, going for lighthearted but he's too tense to make it look natural.

you roll your eyes, huffing. 'no need to, you're doing a great job by being on every single news portal yourself.'

and it's true, that's the thing. mingyu is a popular dj, of course he's where the party is and yes, in the nice company of pretty people most of the time. but the way you said it - like he's some dirt on your shoes, like you think his whole life is only this, like you know him already when you don't know a damn thing about him - makes him angry. livid, even. he should say something back, something equally bad, but then designer walks in and you two are picture perfect couple again. mingyu kind of hates it. he also hates how he can't even hide the awe in his eyes when you walk out in a white dress, looking stunning.

three.

thunder rolls in with all its might, showing exactly why all flights are cancelled. mingyu watches how mother nature reminds everyone who's actually in charge here, while you're busy stressing out at the background. he turns, focusing on the way you zip and then unzip your bag, grabbing laptop from it with a big sigh. before he can even think it through, question is out of his mouth: 'how can i help you?'

you freeze. you look shocked when you turn to him and he doesn't blame you - it's weird to ask that when both of you are not speaking terms exactly. 'what?' you ask, stuttering a bit. it's kinda cute. 'you want to help me?' mingyu nods. 'why?'

god, you really never want to make anything easy for him, do you? 'because maybe i'm not an asshole you think i am?' mingyu tries but you don't budge. 'fuck, okay. is this how our marriage-'

'fake marriage,' you but in.

'fake marriage is going to be?' mingyu asks. 'we will not talk to each other and you will react like i'm trying to poison you every time i bring you tea? aren't you tired of this?' mingyu moves closer to you. in this huge hotel room you look so small, especially when you wrap arms around yourself like you're doing now. 'our flight got cancelled, but you're stressing out here like our wedding did. i asked a simple question and you're acting like-' he throws his hands in the air, loss of words. you stare back at him, guarded and he suddenly wants to give up. 'actually, nevermind. i'm going to take next room, text me if there'll be any updates about flights.'

mingyu is.. emotionally drained. whenever he tried to take steps towards you all he was met with was a concrete wall. he knows your first meeting could've gone better but the way you're shutting him down is brutal. he grabs his bag and moves to another room, when you softly call out his name. and maybe he shouldn't give in so easily, but it's you and he's ready for anything to get you to talk to him.

'i'm sorry,' you mumble quietly, looking up and meeting his gaze. 'i just- flight is cancelled and we will be late for all our appereances tomorrow and people will be angry-'

'they all will wait,' mingyu interrupts. is this what got you so stressed? you thinking that some people will be angry at you? mingyu instantly despises this idea, you thinking that some people have this power over you. 'they will wait however the fuck they need to wait for us, okay?' a suspicion creeps in his mind. 'did someone say something to you?' the way your eyes widen is an answer enough. 'who?' mingyu asks, raising his voice a little. 'tell me who.'

his voice and tone is firm enough for you to just give him your phone with a message thread with one of the directors of tv channel open. mingyu reads through the messages and grits his teeth so hard, his jaw clicks. 'let me talk to him,' he looks back at you, pleading for you to give permission. 'please. no one should ever talk to you in this way. let me talk to him and i will remind him his place.'

mingyu probably looks very scary right now, but he doesn't care; how dare someone speak to you like that? how dare someone make you this stressed? you nod and mingyu quickly goes to get his phone, typing number of that director. he walks out to call him without noticing sincere small smile playing on your face.

four.

it goes better after that. you two are talking and it's a big win for mingyu. one week full of tv appereances and interview recordings flies in a blink of an eye with your company, especially when you open up to him more and more. mingyu thinks marrying someone who is this smart and funny is not the worst thing in the world.

five.

two weeks till the wedding and mingyu takes you out on your first real date. or well, you don't know yet that this is a date but he's about to drop that bomb soon. the restaraunt is nicely lit, food is delicious and the way candle lights dance on a naked skin of your shoulders in this dress makes him a bit dizzy.

'is this a date?' you ask, looking up at him when waiter brings dessert.

mingyu likes having your eyes on him. he always wanted your attention and now that he has it, he never wants to lose it. he reaches out for your hand, smiling when you let him interlace your fingers together. 'yes, for me. i'd love it if you'll treat it as one, too.'

your eyes are mesmerizing. how mingyu is supposed to concentrate on anything else when you're looking at him like that? your thumb gently caresses his skin. 'it's a date for me too.'

six.

it's all very new. mingyu is not in a rush but he really doesn't want the first time he kisses you to be the wedding so yeah, maybe he is in a rush. it's not like you're complaining though.

'easy there, cowboy,' you giggle, when he pushes you against the door of his bentley. 'what's got you so worked up?'

'you in this dress,' mingyu mutters, leaving small kisses on your neck. 'you dancing to my dj sets. you being next to me. you, just you.' mingyu stops right in front of your lips, practically vibrating with need to learn your taste. 'let me. fuck, please let me, i-'

you kiss him first. and it's everything he thought it'd be and then some more. mingyu kisses back, devours you whole against that car and leaves a stinging bite on your lower lip when he finally pulls back. he brings your foreheads together, breathing heavily. 'we could've been doing this from the start if you didn't act like you had a stick up your ass.'

'fucker,' you mutter, slapping his bicep but with no real heat behind it. 'get off me.' you push him gently and when mingyu steps away, you smile. three days till the wedding and mingyu already is not sure how he's going to survive them without your kisses. 'thanks for the night, mingyu. you were amazing up there.'

mingyu preens, something warm fills his body at your praise of his skills. he knows he's a damn good dj but hearing this from you means so much more. 'i'll see you tomorrow?' he asks, smiling.

you burst out laughing. 'yes, mingyu, i'm not going to skip my own wedding.'

mingyu grins, not wanting to admit how relieved he is to hear this. 'just checking.'

seven.

true to your word, you don't skip the wedding. you are there, looking like an angel in the white dress, making mingyu's heart want to jump out of his ribcage. you kiss sweetly by the applause from everyone and mingyu holds you tight during your first dance.

'forever with me, aren't you excited?' mingyu asks, gently swaying you.

'two years by the contract don't sound like forever,' you say, grinning. 'getting a bit ahead of yourself, mister.'

'what can i say, i'm very confident.' mingyu spins you once, twice and then pushes you back into his arms, right where you belong. 'your heart eyes are giving you away, by the way.'

your laugh is quickly becoming his favorite sound. he smiles too at your giggles. 'you're not exactly being subtle either,' you say playfully. 'happy that you got me in the end, mingyu?'

mingyu leans in, capturing your smile in a sweet kiss. cameras are going crazy and people around are clapping, thinking that it's all fake but it's the single most real thing in his life. 'you have no idea how.'

a/n: this was a request from anon like month ago and i got around it only now, i'm sorry :( hopefully whoever requested this is happy with how it turned out, cause i kinda like it <3 - nini

my other seventeen works are here

my formula 1 works are here

[husbandhoshi]

TO GROW LOVE (AND EAT IT TO THE CORE)

pairing: mingyu x gn!reader wc: 8.1k summary: your whole life, you've only wanted one thing. then you meet mingyu. suddenly you want too much, and you wish the summer never ended. notes: farmer!au, established relationship, angst/hurt/a little comfort

this is a birthday fic for my one and only cat @wuahae ! yes this is about half a year late but what can i say. all good things come with time. thank you for being so kind, funny, and thoughtful (and patient)! not a day goes by where i’m not thankful for our friendship :)

and a million thanks to hana @wqnwoos and jackie @97-liners for helping me with edits. literally you guys are insane writers and i will never stop looking up to you.

i. strawberries (the summer we were young)

When a strawberry is ripe, the seeds push out from the heart of the fruit, as if it's bursting from the inside out.

This is one of the few and only things you've learned by living in Seogwipo, where strawberry season comes like a supernova. The May sun, full and heavy, peels into summer, and the roadside farms open their doors, trying to catch stray vacationers from Jeju City on the other side of the island.

That being said, there are approximately two things to do here. One of them is farm. The other is pretend like you have a life, which is your childhood friend Yizhuo's favorite thing to do when she's back from university on summer break.

Today, this involved convincing her ritzy, too-good Seoul friends that they're missing out on this side of Jeju. (Missing out on what? You're not sure. Perhaps the chipped paint of the mural walls, or the endless flat-topped stretches of seagrass. Yizhuo isn't fooling anyone, but you've always liked stretching your legs out in the bed of her pick-up, even on the long drive to nowhere.)

Unsurprisingly, her friends quickly came to the same conclusion. Just one look at your local strawberry patch, with none of the glamour of the bloated tourist traps in the city, and they decided they'd rather spend the afternoon at the beach.

It was then, between the fragaria blooms, when you met Mingyu. He asked for your name, and the rest was history. Yizhuo and co. scattered like the grasping hands of an overripe dandelion and you learned that he was, one, the newly-graduated son of a pair of local farmers, and two, very, very attractive. Almost too much so, especially for a place like this.

Now he holds up a berry, a bright red murder between his fingers, and tells you to try it.

"You must be delusional if you think i'm taking food from a stranger," you laugh, perched on the fence bordering the field. It sprawls before you, melon stripes on the sunbaked ground.

"No, my name is Mingyu," he replies. "No idea who delusional is." His smile, all bright lip and snaggletooth, tears into the scarlet belly of a newly picked strawberry.

"We all know what happened to Persephone."

"Well, if the underworld was a strawberry patch, I wouldn't mind being stuck there for all of eternity."

"What're you picking all these for, anyway?" you ask, watching Mingyu struggle with his too-big straw hat between the vines. His woven basket bleeds over with little berries.

"Jam. I make it on the very first day of every summer."

"Why?"

"You ask a lot of questions for someone who trespassed on my farm. You're cute, but I won't let you off easy."

He laughs at how you balk, clearly red-handed. You're not sure how to tell him you don't think you were supposed to be here either. You don't do things like sit in the back of trucks, trespass, or talk to pretty farmer boys who take a fancy to you, but it's the summer before you graduate and you're not even sure how long you'll have to continue making bad decisions.

"Are you gonna take my first-born now?" you joke instead. The daylight runs down the rim of Mingyu's hat, trickles down his brow, and you wish you could pour the image of him into a jar and keep it forever.

"No, but I will invite you in for some fresh jam on toast. I baked a loaf this morning." and when you say nothing, he continues. "The strawberries are only good once a year. It's the best you'll ever have. Promise."

It's a whine and a half, and somehow you convince yourself this will be the last bad decision you'll make. You've been here long enough to know that good things don't come twice in Seogwipo, and he is unlikely to be an exception.

Yizhuo blows up your phone, you tie the gingham apron around Mingyu's tiny waist, and the basket turns to blood in the saucepan.

Mingyu is right. Love comes to you in that kitchen, high and red like the sun, and the jam never tastes as good as it does that summer.

ii. watermelon (hollowed out, like a magic trick)

"A good watermelon sounds like a heartbeat."

You watch Mingyu heave the fruit, small and striped, out of his grocery bag. It joins the array of egg sandwiches and banana milks you picked up from the store together earlier. (There should have been chocolate Pepero too, but you split the box on the walk).

You're on a picnic, sprawled out on the outcropping overlooking the water. The path up is basically right behind your house, but you had never cared to visit. It had always been the local makeout spot, a schlocky teen crawl for those with nothing better to do, and yet, with Mingyu stretched out beside you, it seems newer. More exciting.

You're still just friends, or at least that's what you told Yizhuo. But ever since you sat on Mingyu's kitchen counter and ate from his jam-covered spatula, you don't think you've gone a week without seeing him. It's been almost two months, which seems so long and yet not long enough—he makes it easy to be greedy.

"See?" He thumps the watermelon with the heel of his palm. "Try it."

You already went through this entire charade at the grocery store, right in front of all the local aunties, but you indulge him. There's little point to triple checking if it's still ripe, but you think he just likes hitting it.

"It sounds good," you say. "But how are we even gonna eat it? We don't have a knife."

"Watch this." Mingyu procures a coin from his pocket. "You didn't learn this in elementary school? I feel like everyone was doing it."

"Here?" you ask, incredulous.

"Yeah, here. I grew up here too, you know."

He holds the edge of the coin to the skin and slams his palm into it once more, so that it lodges itself into the rind, and begins dragging it around the fruit. You start to wonder if he bought the watermelon just to show you a party trick—not that you mind, though. The strain of his biceps peeks through his rolled up white tee, and you remember why he was able to stop you with just one look back when you first met.

"No way." The watermelon is so ripe, it bleeds around the incision. "I feel like I know everyone here. And I definitely would have remembered you."

"I was probably, like, two grades above you," he replies. "And my parents shipped me off to live with my cousins after elementary school. They said I should get out of Seogwipo and experience the real world."

"Good call. There's nothing here." You watch Mingyu spin the melon over to cut through the other side. The coin catches the sunlight, and it looks like gold. "I wish I left for university. The one here is so small."

"Really?" He pauses to show you his handiwork. The two melon halves roll over on their backs, their cut edge cruel and jagged. "Cool, huh?"

"Impressive," you say. "Honestly. I really didn't think that would work."

"I didn't either when I first saw someone do it. But I’ll try anything once," he replies, ripping open the packaging of the plastic spoon from the bag. "I can't believe you don't like it here."

"You do?"

"Yeah. A lot." He shoves the spoon in his mouth, and you watch the watermelon juice pool around his lips. "I missed home. The trees and the tall grass and the ocean. All the fruits. Everything. I learned to ride a bike, right down there by the water."

"Hm." He passes you the spoon. You don't want to hog it, so you carve out a piece bigger than you need. "Are you gonna work at the farm?"

"Maybe. Haven't decided yet," he says. "I think I want to be here, though. Maybe do something with food, but I want to be home."

"That's funny, because I think I’ve always wanted to live a different life. Or at least one somewhere else."

"You want to go to law school, right?"

"Yeah." Mingyu is right. The watermelon is all sugar, and you would almost feel guilty for eating it if it wasn't technically good for you. "I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer. It's something about the people watching, I think."

"That’s really cool," Mingyu says, mouth full but no less sincere. It's then that you notice your shoulders are almost touching, and your heart crawls back up to your mouth. "You know what you want. I admire that."

He makes it sound like a compliment, but you're sure it's a curse.

You think of your parents. There's a permanent wrinkle ironed into their foreheads, the paper crease of expectations and high standards. It's not that they didn't care, but their kind of care was a humbled sort, made heavy by a hard life. It didn't help that your big sister Seohyun went straight from Yonsei to work a big tech job in San Francisco and never once looked back.

But you can't blame any of them—wanting has always been a hereditary failing. Sometimes Yizhuo will catch you frowning at nothing, and then you remember that life isn't a performance and every day ends at the same time no matter how hard you work. But you don't know how to tell her that the only thing you can do sometimes is want, because otherwise you wouldn't really have much at all.

It seems like the exact opposite of how Mingyu lives—everything about him seems to pass like the seasons. Maybe that's why you can't seem to get enough of each other.

"Thank you. Really." You dig the spoon into your half of the melon. There isn't much left. "You're way too nice to me."

"It’s not hard to be," he laughs. "Maybe you're just too hard on yourself."

You're losing track of the distance between the two of you. You can almost feel the heat playing off his skin.

"Maybe."

It's then, under the veil of summer, where you meet Mingyu's gaze and, finally, things seem close to simple.

All you know are his eyes, heavy with sun, and then the slow, slow move of his lips against yours. He tastes like August, long and sweet, and for once you know what it's like to not only want, but to have, and to have again.

The ocean sings on the horizon, and the watermelon bellies weep.

iii. adzuki beans (or, the blood of a headless taiyaki)

Mingyu eats taiyaki headfirst because he says it hurts less.

"That makes no sense," you tell him, your pinkies linked. You never really liked holding hands, but yours fits so perfectly in Mingyu's and there's some girlish, childlike shine to it when you watch his finger search for yours after just a moment separated.

"What do you mean."

He breaks your gaze to eye a red bean taiyaki, like an unwilling predator sizing up their prey. It's the lamest, most embarrassing iteration of National Geographic you've ever seen, and yet you cannot find any fiber within yourself not deeply in love with the lion.

Fall is a forgiving place for your relationship to settle. You're now a senior at university and he's started his gap year. Gap implies he's in the middle of something, but in true Mingyu fashion, he leaves it up to fate, or chance, or something not nearly as kind (whim).

"Taiyaki isn't alive. And why would you want to pretend it is? Eating gummy bears would become an extinction event."

"It kind of is." He holds out the tail end of the taiyaki, the pastry almost explicitly flayed open, in front of you to eat. "Why does the Haribo bear have a face? Why do the gummy bears live in a gummy forest?"

"Great, so now I can’t even enjoy gummy bears without feeling like a serial killer?"

You dig your pointer into his shoulders, broad from all the time he spends on the farm. To think that his hands, big and weathered, were made to pick berries (and now wrap around your pinky finger) is bruising, if not ridiculously funny.

"It's a crime of passion. Gummy passion. Prosecute that."

He kisses your cheek and your heart almost squeezes into two.

The terrible thing about being with Mingyu is how seemingly endless his affection is. Now he's feeding you in public and buying the two of you matching socks (cat and dog, to be exact), although you'll admit it's a little charming, even if the neighbors do gossip.

He's sweet, too sweet, and his kisses stick to the back of your throat.

But you can't be fooled. There's an unsaid violence to the way Mingyu loves. (The meticulous spiral of the peel he carves when you ask for him to cut you an apple. The grind, decisive and cruel, of a knife against a cutting board. A pair of canines against your neck, your jaw.)

Even now, he bites the head off another unwitting taiyaki before stuffing it back in the bag.

"We're still splitsing, right?" he says, with perhaps 1% of his mouth available for speaking and the other 99% murder machine.

Splits, he always says before you share food. You never had the heart to tell him that it's in the same family as mines or sharesies or takebacks—silly childhood relics, ones that no one uses anymore because they don't mean anything.

This time, you don't hear him because you're thinking about the law school fair you went to before Mingyu picked you up. The future is so close, it scares you. A year from now, what ground would you be standing on? Would it smell like this—the peat, the thread-spool fields, the balm of the ocean? Would you still have Mingyu's finger wrapped round yours?

"Have you decided if you're staying at the farm?" you ask.

"Not really." He uses the back of his hand to wipe off his chin. "If my sister decides to take over, I’m actually kinda thinking of going to pastry school instead of getting a masters."

Mingyu had been toying with the idea for some time after you had talked about it on the outlook. It started off as a joke (September; a galette), then a what if (October; green tea mochi), and now it sits at a kinda.

"Kinda?"

The word gathers speed in the pachinko machine of your mind. You never liked being a kinda person. For Mingyu, it seems like a luxury of a word, but for you, it's really just another thing to hide behind. Kinda talented, kinda ambitious, kinda just there. You're always one foot in, one foot out of something better.

"Yeah, kinda. Why?"

"I dunno. What if we both end up leaving?"

"Maybe. You still want to, right?"

You would be lying if you said you didn't—it's what you always wanted. Seogwipo has been a sun-rot, too-small crutch for you, but you would also be lying if you said you weren't terrified that you'd eventually come back, limping like some doomed Icarus, unable to truly make it in the real world.

Then you think of the pockmarked farmland beside your home, lacy with the fall harvest. Even now, you can trace the endless blue of the coastline all the way there, cut through all the maybes and just let the sound of the ocean fold you into sleep like you were a child again. You wonder if Seohyun, all the way on the other side of the world, ever misses it.

"I’m not sure," you say, because, as much as you don't like it, it's the only answer you have.

"It's ok. You'll figure it out. You always do." He squeezes your cheeks together between his thumb and index, laughing at how they pillow out underneath his fingers. "Screw pastry school. I could come with you. Who else would keep you fed?"

Mingyu's complete and unfounded belief in you makes you feel something close to betrayal. How could he say any of that? With what proof? Only someone like Mingyu would be able to hold the wrinkled fruit of your unremarkable life between his palms and see something better than that. Maybe it's because he grew up on a farm. Either that, or he already cares for you too much, too painfully.

Secrets are easy to keep when they look like yours. At least here, in the pit of your stomach, you can keep count, take attendance of them, all your tittering, small anxieties. Some days it feels like your ribs are pressing out, but it's better than cutting everything loose to spill out over what little you do have control over.

You can handle a little pressure. You have to.

What concerns you is the hand Mingyu's got across your chest. With one look, he just might gut you. A twist of the heart-knife, and all those carefully wound insides carved out in an instant—maybe he'd pity you, but worse than that, he'd likely be disappointed.

For you, expectation has always stood taller than shame, and the idea that he sees something past you makes you want to run away.

"I could be a house husband," he says as easily as ever. "You'll be off saving the world, arguing with whoever, and I'll be there to run you a bath afterwards."

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves," you reply, binding up the strange, hollow feeling in your stomach with a laugh.

There's a scared little girl hiding inside you, and whether Mingyu sees her or not hurts the same. A spade is a spade. You can only pretend so long.

You look at the taiyaki floating in their wax paper bag, blinded and wrought open by the same grin that now peels you down, and you're not hungry anymore.

iv. winter pears (rotten, outside your parents' house)

Mingyu's family loves Christmas.

You think it's because of the pear trees they have in the front yard. They stand bravely before the house, all emerald ash and wisdom in the December freeze. Run your palms over the knobs and it's like you can see into a sleepy visage of simpler days past. (Below its heart, carved: 1982, the year the farm was bought. Along the tangle of the roots: gyu waz here, in an unsure, childish scrawl.)  

Winter comes to the countryside crawling on its hands and knees. On days it doesn't snow, there's a mist, boggy and clingy. You've come to realize the cold is more of a threat than a promise, and so the pear trees still bear fruit; the silvery branches hang heavy, faithful.

The first day of December, Mingyu's parents had tasked the two of you with decorating the farmhouse, a duty you took very seriously. You wrapped Mingyu up in string lights and watched him blink in and out like your own personal firefly.

It wasn't until you watched the rafters, the barn doors, the joyous vault of the ceiling all glow, like a spectacular firework, that you finally started to understand why Mingyu was so into the holidays.

It was in the yellow blush of the string lights that you had your first pear from the tree, which Mingyu insisted was a holiday tradition. We make poached pears, he said, mid-bite. You simmer the pear in syrup until it gets so soft, you can cut into it with a fork. Just like butter.

That same night, he kissed you, mouth hot and trembling and tasting of honey, and pressed you against the bark so hard, you could feel the grit of its veins against your skin.

You think December became your favorite month, and pears your favorite fruit.

So much so, that for the entire month, you try to put away your worries about law school applications to celebrate with Mingyu and his family.

You learn his mom makes the best hot chocolate (a cinnamon stick and a dogged devotion to the whisk), and that Mingyu has no clue on God's green earth how to ice skate. (He careens right into your chest the first time. You spend the next hour with him attached to you like a backpack—he manages to find the most impractical ways to do anything, which you somehow admire the most). On Sundays, Yizhuo ditches her Seoul friends and instead accompanies you to the mall two towns over, where she watches you compare different ties and watches and collagen creams as you decide on gifts for his family. (Lilac is so last year, she'd say, stirring the straw of a watered-down milk tea.)

It's not until the weekend before Christmas when you realize just how serious things have gotten. Your feet understand the meander of the dirt path to the farmhouse, your bones the scent of the yellow-skinned apple, the faded wildflowers. Your palms crave the plush of the rug they have in front of the fireplace. Hell, you can't even eat soondubu without thinking of the kind Mingyu's dad makes, with extra anchovies and green onion.

You don't think about what this means. There are ten days left in December and love poured from a full cup never seems to run out.

"Please let me carry some of those," Mingyu wheedles. "Oh my god. I'm like the worst boyfriend in the world."

"No, you are not." you make your way up to his doorstep, taking care to one-two step over the stray roots of one of the pear trees. It's second nature to you by now. "The moment I hand you a box, you are gonna start trying to figure out what it is."

He harumphs and plucks the big one off the top anyway, the one he knows you can't reach. "I didn't even know you were getting us gifts. You didn't have to."

"It's the least I could do. Who shows up to a holiday dinner emptyhanded?" You stop at the front door. "And stop shaking it," you laugh, using the tip of your boot to nudge his shin.

"Okay. Okay," he says, saccharine, adoring, before grabbing the doorknob. "Ready? Are you nervous? You shouldn't be nervous, right? It's not fancy or anything, if you were worried about that."

And that's the thing that wedges itself between your ribs. Mingyu and his whole family are like this. They love and worry and love again; it presses deep into you, fills you, and overflows.

So here you are, standing in your nicest dress and balancing a stack of gifts you hope will amount to something, never enough but something, to repay the people who you feel have loved you more than you deserve. It's all you really have. You do your best, and yet you know when that door opens, it'll all be washed away in a high-tide flurry of hugs and laughter and the familiar press of Bobpul's wet nose against your leg. They're just those kinds of people—they would be just as happy if you didn't bring anything at all, and somehow that makes you feel even more guilty.

"No, no," you wave him off. "I’m fine. Excited."

When Mingyu opens the door, everything goes just as you expected. His sister takes your coat, your gifts are whisked away to the tree (Aji has already figured out which one is his), and his parents descend upon you in a choking swell of warmth and charity.

We baked some fresh bread for your parents (—Thank you so much, but you really shouldn't have.). You look so beautiful in that color (—No, no, you flatter me too much.). Mingyu better be taking good care of you (—He is. He really, really is.).

The kitchen is gauzy with cinnamon, anise. They must be making their famous poached pears, which Mingyu remarks on, just like clockwork.

Dinner passes the same way. It bubbles over with affection, and you feel swallowed by an impossible yearning. This—a full table and a hand to hold underneath it—did you deserve this? And could you keep it?

For an instant, you picture yourself, years later, at this same seat. Mingyu would be fussing over the rice cakes, his apron still gingham because it reminds him of the day you two met. His parents, grayer but no less happy, bickering over the shade of tinsel on the tree. And the dogs, coiled at your feet like they are now. The vision laps at your bones like you're a raft in a storm.

You're pulled back into the moment when Mingyu squeezes your hand, grounding and insistent. "Mom asked how school was going. I told her I think you're basically the smartest person I know, and I’m pretty sure you're getting into whatever law school you want."

Mingyu's parents laugh, and they cut through their pears.

"Oh, sorry," you say. "Um."

Clink. Knife meets flesh, meets porcelain. Your cheeks are hot. You wanted to talk about anything other than yourself tonight. Clink.

"The top programs are a reach, but it'd be nice." clink. "I just want to get in somewhere."

"They’re all so far away," Mingyu's mom remarks. "So grown up. Any school will be lucky to have you. You'll get into all of them."

Clink.

"Or maybe you can stay here." You watch the prongs of Mingyu's father's fork disappear into the pear. "Keep us old folk company."

"No, no, I think Mingyu should take notes and get off his lazy ass," his sister says, teasing. "Going back to the city will be good for him."

"So you can, what, burn down the kitchen again?" Mingyu grumbles, and the whole table seems to boil over with laughter.

"We’re kidding," his mom tells you. "No matter where you go, I’m sure you'll do great. We can even throw you a party at the end of the year. For graduating."

Clink. Clink.

There's a horrible uneasiness writhing around in your stomach. It's pear and syrup and clove and a blackness, an anxious, selfish one that sucks up all the generosity of the evening and turns it into shame.

Mingyu's mom is talking about throwing you a graduation party, something you didn't even think to do for yourself, and here you are, thinking about the shaking moment you open your rejection letters and the lonely path you'll draw on your way back home.

It's ok. They missed out, Mingyu would say, pouring you a consolation drink, and then it would be over. You'd go home and sit on your bed and the trifold piece of paper would go round and round your head like it was in a washing machine.

Your heart, an inventory of tasks and goals and tally marks. Things you've taken and things you've owed. It's a soft, boneless excuse. Be grateful. Give them that, at least.

Clink.

Dessert ends before you can tell his family not to get their hopes up. Mingyu's mom sends you off with your loaf of bread and a kiss on the cheek, and the moment is gone.

"Gyu," you call out on the steps in front of the house.

There are words at the seam of your lips. You want to tell him you're sorry for worrying so much. For making the whole dinner about you and then very possibly having nothing to show for it when it matters. For the heaviness in your chest. Your cowardice. But none of it comes out.

Instead you watch Mingyu pull at the leaves of a pear tree, watching the frost-filigree they get at the end of the season. He looks over his shoulder and smiles at you, as if he's on the hazy cover of a magazine. His eyes bend so wonderfully at the corners when he looks at you, and it breaks your heart.

"You had fun, right?" he asks. "My parents like you a lot, you know. I think they really do."

But that's the problem, you want to say. You all do, and I have no idea why.

Some of the pears are beginning to rot now. You watch one drop off the vine, and it caves to the pavement like it was made of nothing at all.

v. wild barley (grows like weeds)

In March, you play house.

Your parents leave on a two week trip to see relatives, and Mingyu takes it upon himself to make sure you survive.

It's a kind, blinding charade.

(7 am, breakfast. You usually don't even eat breakfast, but you wake up to doenjang and a smile, one that presses itself to yours until you're wearing it on the long walk to school.)

(4 pm, the stretch between lunch and dinner. You're muddling through another useless club meeting when Mingyu sends you a picture of him in your mom's apron, making kimchi. Kiss the chef, he texts you. You promise to, over and over and over.)

It's good until it isn't.

That isn't to say that it's Mingyu's fault. In fact, it's never really Mingyu's fault, and that's the worst thing about your relationship. Sometimes you wish he was worse just so there was someone else to blame.

(1 am, a fridge-cold glass of water and a hand on the column of your spine. Can't sleep? He asks. Just had a weird dream, you say.

It's a lie. You're a liar.

You miss your parents and the first wave of acceptance letters comes out in two days. You're not like him. Sleep has never been a cure for the exhaustion you're feeling, and you have no way of telling him that however warm the bed is won't fix that.)

It's on a Thursday afternoon when you open your mailbox and see the tiny, thin envelope that you've been expecting for the past week. You don't need to open it to know what it says, and yet you do it anyway.

The sun is white, a ghost in the spring sky. The ocean bleeds into the overcast, the curly barley stands tall around your feet, and you let the worst letter you've gotten in your life fall upon your shoulders, word by terrible word.

Then you close it, pinching the seam shut, and draw up your brave face. Nothing left to do but be brave. You're convinced you've used up all the sadness in your relationship—spend in pennies and the well still runs dry. Mingyu will cup your cheek and call you darling, pouring into your emptying basin, holey and broken.

You see him now through the kitchen window, Venus in his clamshell of a kitchen. Galbijjim day, he had said this morning. Now, he waves at you, glittery with recognition.

Your throat feels like crumpled paper.

Mingyu smiles at you, hazy through the glass. Your cheeks hurt and your mouth is paper mache, but you smile back anyway.

///

The letters come one after another.

You know what the envelopes hold and yet you keep opening them. The little folder you keep stashed in your bottom drawer gets fatter every passing day because you can't help but revisit your misery, almost as if you need to remind yourself it exists.

Mingyu is none the wiser. Today he decides he'll put off pastry school for one more year. "It doesn't feel like the right time," he says, rolling a log of burdock kimbap up. "You know what I mean?"

No, you don't. You never really do.

You do know, however, that it would feel really fucking bad that, come the end of the year, to have nothing. All your friends would be going somewhere—even Yizhuo opened her acceptance to an MFA program in Shanghai yesterday—and you would be here, still, feet firmly planted in the muddy Jeju dirt like they always had been.

"Hey, don't look so disappointed." he jokes. "Don't tell me you're already trying to get rid of me."

You're not, you really aren't. But part of you wonders if it's just a race to the bottom. If you got rid of him before he decided he wanted to get rid of you, maybe it would hurt a lot less. One less letter for the folder.

"Never. But imagine if you picked up a French accent at pastry school. Then I’d consider it. Maybe."

You watch his knife rock back and forth on the cutting board as he cuts the kimbap.

"Some for you. And more for me," he says, in what you can only describe as someone attempting to speak French when they've never heard it before. "Unless you want more, mon cherie."

He brings the plates to the table, his grin nothing short of dizzying.

"I’m irresistible, huh? Still wanna leave me now?"

"You're gonna have to try a little harder than that, I think."

The words roll off your tongue, easily, traitorously.

You watch the kimbap disappear off of Mingyu's plate.

Going, going, gone.

///

Seogwipo is always dark at night, only kept alive by the glow of the moonlit sea.

You can't sleep. Again. And so you sit out on the steps in front of your house, letting the twilight wrap around you like a blanket.

You got your last letter back earlier today. You held your breath and tore it open like you would a birthday card with money in it.

Waitlisted.

It was surely better than a rejection, but some naive, child-eyed part of you thought that if you had just closed your eyes and hoped hard enough, things would work out the way you had planned. Tragically, it wasn't enough this time. You wanted and wanted and you thought maybe that would mean you'd come close to deserving it.

Your parents called today. After managing to sideline the issue of basically the rest of your entire life, they had finally cut through your sad little charade. No good news yet, huh?

No, but—

It was always like that with you. No, but it's not as bad as you think. No, but give me a chance. No, but I’m trying. I've been trying.

You wish things didn't come out of you so complicated. That you could be like Seohyun, who could go through school with her eyes closed and still graduate at the top of her class. Instead, you parade around your little failures, trying to convince people it all could mean something only if they squinted. See? It isn't so bad.

You think you're past the point of crying about it. Your stomach hurts, you're cold, and most of all, you just want to go back to bed. Plus, although Mingyu sleeps like a log, you think he's developed a sixth sense for whenever you get up too early.

Time to be brave, you've been telling yourself, although you don't know who you're pretending for anymore.

So you nudge the front door open—it's so old, it wails if you come at it with any more force—and, to your surprise, see the light above the kitchen sink turned on.

It's not very bright, but it's enough to make out Mingyu's broad silhouette, back turned to you as he makes a cup of tea. He's humming one of his made-up songs.

"Mingyu?"

"There you are," he says, turning around. "Just came out to check on you. And make you some tea."

The kettle whizzes. Your gut twists.

You still haven't said anything to Mingyu. To manage your own disappointment was one thing—you don't think you could handle another person's. And yet when he stands there, Pororo mug between his huge hands, you feel as if you are holding a knife, big and guilty and bloody.

"I-I'm fine, Gyu. Honest." you watch his expression flicker, unreadable in the persimmon lamplight. "Sorry you had to come out. It's chilly out here."

"You know, you can tell me what's going on. I won't judge."

No, no, no. This is the last conversation you wanted to have, with the last person you wanted to have it with.

You feel feverish. You think your hands are shaking.

"Mingyu, I swear—"

"Whatever it is, we can fix it. I know we can."

That almost makes you want to laugh if you didn't want to cry so bad. Of fucking course he would say that. Mingyu, who treats life like it's the watermelon trick he showed you on the outlook, wants to put a bandaid on this whole thing, as if that could come close to fixing it.

He'd tell you to curl up on the couch with a bad movie while he orders takeout. Kiss you on the top of the head. It's ok, baby. Just another bad day for the person who has the worst luck in the world. Another lump of problems for him to try and make better. If he isn't sick of you now, he sure would be soon enough.

"It’s okay," you say, steeling your voice. "It really isn't a big deal. Let's just go back to sleep."

You try to walk away, but the hardness in Mingyu's eyes roots you down to the tile.

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Pushing me away," he swallows. "Like you always do. I know something's going on."

"I’m not, i just—"

"You just what? You can't help it?"

"No, I—"

"Because you like to know that you can? That you can say whatever and then watch me come back?" A fragmented, heavy silence thrums between you. He's looking at you like he's daring you to say something, anything. His gaze is black. "What am I good for if you can't tell me anything?"

There's that familiar, stinging pressure behind your eyes. You think you're crying, but you're not sure. Maybe you've been crying this whole time.

"Fine," you bite. Your blood feels like hot metal. "You really wanna know? I didn't get into law school. There. Happy now?"

Mingyu looks stung.

"W-why didn't you tell me?"

Because I thought you would stop loving me. I thought you would have finally had enough.

"Because it's not all about you, Mingyu."

The words, selfish and damning, burn your tongue. Mingyu is right. This is what you always do. You fuck up and then make everyone else hurt for it.

"I'm sorry," Mingyu says. His voice doesn't sound like his. Instead, the words seem to hang in the air, trembling and holding their breath, waiting for an apology you can't give yet. "I shouldn't have—"

"It's ok." You swallow hard, and it hurts. "Let's just go back to bed."

It's getting colder and colder. You think there's a little hole in your sock, right above the cat's whiskers.

Mingyu doesn't reach for you as he passes to get to the hallway. Maybe he doesn't know how to anymore.

The Pororo cup is left abandoned on the counter. You walk over and read the label on the tea bag—barley, because you have class tomorrow morning.

You pick it up, let the ceramic buzz between your hands with whatever warmth it has left, and hold it to your lips.

It's cold now, but all you can think to do is drink it. Erase all the evidence that tonight ever happened, and maybe it'll be nothing more than a bad dream in the morning.

There's honey at the bottom of the cup. It sears the back of your throat, but you drink until there's nothing left.

vi. the peach blossoms (without fail, bloom every August. I miss you.)

You broke up the next day.

Even now, you remember what happened. You had woken up early that morning to make your own breakfast because you couldn't allow Mingyu to give you any more of himself. Your hands could only hold, shatter, so much.

"Mingyu, I think we should...." You looked at the zigzags of jam on your toast, angry and uneven. "I think we should stop seeing each other. For now," you had added, as if that made anything better at all.

Somehow that seemed more merciful at the time. Really, you think it just showed your cowardice. If you were going to break his heart, you might as well have gone all the way the first time.

Maybe it was a good thing that Mingyu saw right through you. He always did.

"So that's it, huh? You're just gonna give up on us?"

"No, I just...need some time."

"How long?" he asked. "Be honest with me. Because you know I’ll wait."

"I don't know." You couldn't meet his gaze. His eyes reached and reached over that kitchen table and you denied him even that.

"Don't you always know?" he asked, pitifully, desperately. "Don't you want this to work?"

And you did. In fact, you don't think you had ever wanted anything more, and it was that that scared you. You had already lost law school—you couldn't let the only other thing in your life let you go. So you pulled the trigger first.

"We should just end things. I'm sorry. I can't give you what you need."

He packed his bag within the hour, and you think everything, from then on, froze inside you. You didn't move from your seat until your parents came home from the airport later that day and asked why there were two plates of toast still on the table.

You think you knew, someplace, inevitably, this would happen. You, who only knew hunger, had reached deep inside Mingyu and rooted out a love you didn't think you were worthy of having. And yet you still ate from the vine, bite after guilty bite, until you couldn't take any more. The only time he asked you for anything at all, you couldn't give it to him—such was the irony of your relationship.

Maybe you were doomed the moment the first strawberry hit your tongue, just like you had said, all that time ago.

About a month later, you got another letter in the mail. Chungnam National University Law School, it read. This one was fat, in one of those brown envelopes lined with bubble wrap. Somehow, miraculously, that position on the waitlist had turned into an acceptance. You held the package to your chest and cried, loud and with abandon, as if taking a deep breath after almost drowning.

Ironically, the first person you wanted to tell was Mingyu. But the good news you needed to save your relationship came too little, too late. Perhaps that meant it had no legs to stand on in the first place, but that didn't stop you from missing it. Instead, you told Yizhuo, and she drove you to Jeju City and treated you to dinner. "You should just call him," she had said. "Hey, don't look at me like that. He'd probably pick up on the first ring."

The city is swathed in August's crimson summer—peach season. The narrow streets are lined with peach trees, the fruits glowing like fat drops of sunlight. All you do these days is plan for your eventual move to Daejeon and the start of a life that seems newer and shinier than your own. But surrounded by the cicada song, the velvet treeline, the rain-soaked asphalt, somehow you think you're going to miss Seogwipo more than you think.

(Fickle, fickle heart. You always needed things to be taken away to really be able to appreciate them. Somehow, all that wanting had boiled down to something more satisfying, more filling.)

You wonder how Mingyu is. Now that you think about it, he seems just as much a part of Seogwipo as the farm he lives on. It was only last summer when you had first met him in the field, set on fire by the strawberry harvest. You think about him now, peddling around that ridiculous wicker basket to make jam. Maybe talking to another pretty girl, someone as naive, cruel as you had been.

Not long ago, you considered calling him to apologize, but that'd just be another thing to be selfish about. A little time and some warm weather, and I’m calling to finally wash my hands of you. That's what it would sound like, no matter what you said. Still, it didn't stop you from thinking of him, every flower, every season.

"You know, I always wanted to grow peach trees. But I think we've always been a pear kind of family."

Mingyu. If a voice could cut through air, it'd be his.

You whip around, half-believing you're hearing things. Certainly that would be easier, but you're learning that there are some things you can't run from.

And like a picture, Mingyu stands tall, golden, framed by the peach blossoms. Not a thing about him has changed. Not even the way he looks at you.

"Mingyu," you breathe. Unfortunately, none of the times you replayed your last conversation with him help you come up with something to say, because in none of them did you anticipate him coming back. "W-what are you doing here?"

"I live here, silly."

"No way," you reply, scrambling. "Crazy, because I live here too."

You both laugh nervously, a silly, bubbly thing, but you feel like you're going to throw up. It's only now that you realize you're kind of on the walk to his place. Seogwipo has never had places to hide.

"I...um." You try and disentangle the guilt from the nostalgia from the scent of the peaches and the warmth on his face. They all look the same. You missed him. "I got into law school. In Daejeon."

"I heard," he says. "Not surprised at all. I always knew you would."

"Thank you. I mean it." The cicadas buzz around you, as if they know they have an important silence to fill. "You're staying in town, right?"

"Actually, I decided to apply to culinary school. It finally felt right, you know? I'm leaving at the end of the summer, but it's just in Jeju City. I couldn't leave the island."

"Thank goodness. I don't know if you could tell, but I kind of always hoped you would. I don't think I’ve ever eaten better food." Your voice wobbles, but it gets there. "You'll do amazing."

Then time stretches and forces you to recognize, reckon with, the moment you're in. You wonder if he feels the same way you do—bruised, overripe. If there's still a space in his heart for you.

Deep breath. Life only gives you so many chances.

"Mingyu, I’m sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't make us work. You deserved better." Saying it feels like peeling the skin of your heart back. There's still a palpable distance between the two of you—you think that had always been there—but it feels more comfortable in a way it never did before.

"Don’t apologize," he says, easily, as he always does. Everything seems to flow off him like water, and you think that's the part of him you loved the most because it was the one thing you couldn't touch. "We loved each other. I think that much was true."

A jasmine breeze curls through the trees, sending the blossoms fluttering around you like ink in water. The very first time you met Mingyu, you thought the image of him, haloed with the sunset, was the one you wanted to keep forever. And yet, somehow, you don't think you'll ever forget the way he looks right now.

"Will you ever come back to Seogwipo?" you ask.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing—you were always the one who wanted to get out of here." He grins, ear to ear. "Of course I'm coming back. There's nowhere I'd rather be."

"Yeah. I think I know what you mean."

The sea, the clay dirt, Mingyu. Even yourself, clumsy and care-worn. You think, somewhere along the line, you forgot how to love. But you're learning—one step at a time.

"Friends," you say. "Let's be friends. If you'll let me."

"Thought you would never ask. Gladly. Always." The space between you seizes, like it's holding in a breath. Maybe one day, you'll think of closing it once more, but you like where you stand now. You can admire him better from a distance, without your fingerprints all over him. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, something he does before he gets ready to leave. But before he does—"I'll see you soon, okay? You better come back. Promise me."

For the first time, you see the honesty in his eyes and you really, truly believe him.

"Promise."

The Seogwipo sun is high and red in the sky when you wave Mingyu goodbye. It feels like you're coming to an end of a long summer, but you're not afraid. You watch the wind dance through the peach blossoms, their branches never searching, never wanting, and you finally feel as if you've arrived home.

[lunaflowers]

wedding night

pairing: byun baekhyun x virgin!reader word count: 2.3k genre: smut, fluff warnings: missionary sex, piv, cunnilingus, fingering synopsis: (requested) you're a nervous virgin on your wedding night. your husband, baekhyun, tries to make your first time as special as possible.

a/n: i'm not sure if this is good because the whole shy virgin thing isn't really my jam but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless, anon! 💖

☆*: .｡. o💘o .｡.:*☆

To say that you were nervous was an understatement. It was the night of your wedding and you were finally, finally going to lose your virginity to your new husband, Byun Baekhyun. 

You’d known since you were young that you were going to wait until you got married. You weren’t particularly religious, but you were exceedingly, perhaps even foolishly, romantic, and you thought the idea of saving yourself for your eventual husband once you were legally and spiritually bound to him was a beautiful gesture of love and commitment.

Unfortunately, this made your dating life significantly more difficult. Men would cut and run as soon as you would reveal that you had no intention of having sex with them in the near future. They’d accuse you of being frigid or a tease. More than one had accused you of being a lesbian.

When you’d met Baekhyun and he’d asked you on a date almost two years ago now, you’d expected the same treatment from him but you were pleasantly surprised. When you’d told Baekhyun about your choice, he was curious instead of annoyed or judgemental and he asked you questions about why you felt the way you did. It was so refreshing, finally, a man who didn’t treat you like a freak, who accepted your decision as a valid one.

It was strange to think now how at that time you had no idea that you’d met the man you were going to lose it to. Being with him now, in your wedding dress while he stood in front of you in your shared hotel room, all you could feel was your heart pounding.

“Are you okay?” Baekhyun asked, his warm eyes meeting yours.

“I am,” you replied, “Just a little nervous.”

“Don’t be. You’re beautiful,” Baekhyun said, taking you in his arms and kissing you deeply. The two of you had kissed plenty of times before, obviously, but this one felt different. The slight hesitancy he’d had before was gone. You felt something more animalistic in him this time, not having to toe an imaginary line in the sand anymore. He reached around the back of your dress, finding your zipper and unzipping it slowly, letting your strapless gown fall to the floor.

He leaned back to look at your body. You were now in front of him in nothing but the white bridal lingerie you’d bought for this occasion. You’d picked out the lacy set with your best friend, wondering if it was a bit cheesy, if Baekhyun would even find it sexy. The way he looked at you with eyes that wanted to devour you assured you that you’d made the right decision. He kissed you again, lifting you up bridal style and taking you over to the bed, placing you on it gently.

You looked at him as he untied his bowtie and began to unbutton his shirt and take it off. You could feel the heat between your legs already. As nervous as you were, you couldn’t help but be distracted by the fact that your husband was incredibly fucking hot.

Baekhyun got on top of you, kissing you again. “Do you know how hard it’s been these past couple years? Not being able to tear your fucking clothes off? Not being able to touch you like this?” He moved down, kissing your throat and between your breasts, just nuzzling his face there and breathing for a moment. “But I just fell so hard for you. I knew you were worth it.”

You giggled as rested his face on your chest. It felt so comforting but erotic at the same time. “Thank you for waiting,” you said, a little shyly. You hadn’t done this before, you didn’t know the things to say, the sexy things, the naughty things, the dirty words you’re sure the women Baekhyun had been with before you had no trouble finding, no shame in saying.

“Thank you for choosing me,” Baekhyun replied, and you couldn’t help but grin. “Can I take this off?” He asked, gesturing at your bra.

You nodded, thinking that it was sweet of him to ask. You turned over to the side so he could unclasp it. When you laid back down, you instinctively covered your breasts. It felt so odd to be exposed like this. Baekhyun had seen you in bathing suits before, but he’d never seen you topless.

“Don’t hide yourself from me baby,” he said, gently removing your hands from your chest. “I’m your husband now.” He looked at you like he’d just unwrapped the most delicious treat. “I want to love every single part of you.” He dipped his head down and took one of your pert nipples in his mouth, making you moan. The sensation was new and odd but pleasurable nonetheless. As he did that, his hand worked itself down reaching into your panties, finding the wetness between your legs.

“All this for me? Aren’t you generous?” He said, letting go of your nipple and pulling his fingers out of your panties, showing you two glistening digits.

You felt a little embarrassed even though you knew it wasn’t Baekhyun’s intent to shame you. “Well, I’ve been waiting for almost two years. It’s been hard for me too.”

Baekhyun moved to pull your panties down and you let him. He slid them down your legs and off of you, taking in your body the whole time.

“I wanna kiss you here,” he said, spreading your legs apart and running a finger down your slit. “Are you okay with that?”

You nodded, a little embarrassed again, and he dove between your legs with his mouth. He teased your entrance with his tongue, keeping his movements slow and gentle, not wanting to overwhelm you. "How are you feeling?" he asked between kisses, his voice little more than a whisper. "Does this feel good?"

“It does… It tickles a little but in a good way,” you replied.

Baekhyun chuckled softly against your skin, his breath fanning over your sensitive flesh. "I'm glad, baby," he whispered, kissing and licking your cunt, his hands resting lightly on your hips to keep them in place. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he prepared himself before slowly pushing one finger inside you, exploring your depths with gentle strokes. He wanted this to be as comfortable and as painless as possible for you and he knew he needed to open you up a little. 

You moaned softly as he felt you tighten around him, your body responding to his touch. "You taste so good," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I can't wait to feel you around my cock."

You whimpered, “You’re so good at this, Baek.”

Hearing your compliment, Baekhyun's heart swelled with pride and desire. He continued to lap at your folds, his tongue dancing against your sensitive flesh while his finger was still inside you. "I’m a little out of practice," he replied with a soft laugh. "And I'm not done yet." 

Slowly, he added another finger and began to thrust them in and out of you at a gentle pace, matching his movements with his tongue. He groaned as he felt you start to tighten around him again. "You feel so good. You’re responding to me so well," he whispered against your skin, his breath hot as he continued to pleasure you. "I can't believe how lucky I am to be here with you."

You smiled, biting your lip. “I’m the lucky one,” you said, in between moans. Your hips were bucking gently now and Baekhyun knew he was hitting the right spots.

His eyes closed as he tasted your sweet arousal, his body shuddering with pleasure. "Fuck," he groaned. He was hard and his hips jerked forward on the mattress reflexively. He would cum his pants if he wasn’t careful. "You taste amazing." He said, kissing your clit once more before pulling his fingers out of you and kissing his way up your stomach, his tongue tracing the lines of your ribs. "You're so perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I can't wait to make love to you."

“I want it, Baekhyun. I want you inside me, please,” you said, breathlessly. You felt like your desire was overwhelming you and you couldn’t wait any longer for him to be inside you.

"As you wish, my love," your husband replied, his voice soothing. He unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out, positioning himself between your legs, his hard length rubbing against your entrance. As much as you wanted this, wanted him, you felt yourself stiffen in nervous anticipation.

Baekhyun, noticing this, leaned down and kissed you softly on the lips, his hand stroking your cheek. "Relax, okay?" he whispered, "And let me take care of you. I love you.”

You breathed deep and nodded for him to continue.  Slowly, he pressed the head of his cock against your entrance, waiting there a moment before he pushed inside, inch by slow inch. He groaned as he felt you stretch around him. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle and concerned. "Tell me if it hurts."

“It does hurt a little,” you admitted, trying to relax your body more. “But it’s not bad.”

Baekhyun paused, his eyes searching yours for signs of discomfort. "I'm sorry, baby," he said, his voice full of regret. "We don't have to do this if it hurts too much." He pulled back slightly, giving you a moment to adjust. 

“No, I don’t want you to stop, please. It feels good too… Please…” you whined. 

Baekhyun pressed forward again, this time going even slower until he was all the way inside you. He kissed your neck and nibbled lightly on your earlobe, murmuring soothing words to distract you from the sting. "You're doing so well," he praised you, "I'm so proud of you."

You whimpered a little and although he felt bad that he was hurting you, he also knew how much you wanted this. He could feel it in the way your body responded to him. And honestly, he wanted you just as bad. He felt you relaxing slowly and he smiled, rewarding you with more kisses on your face, making you laugh.

He groaned as he felt your walls clenching on his cock. "That's it, baby," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "You're so tight and wet for me." He began to move slowly, his hips rocking back and forth in a rhythmic motion. 

He kissed your neck and shoulders, trailing soft kisses on your body. "Tell me if I'm hurting you," he murmured, "And I'll stop." But truthfully, he knew you wouldn't ask him to stop. He could feel the way you were arching into his touch, the way your nails dug into his skin. He smiled against your body, feeling the familiar rush of desire course through his veins. "You're mine," he whispered into your ear, "Completely and utterly mine. Only mine."

“Only yours,” you murmured back, breathlessly.

Hearing your words, Baekhyun felt an odd surge of possessive satisfaction course through him. He liked the idea that he was the one and only man you were ever going to have. And that you were the only woman he’d ever have again. "You belong to me now," he said, his voice becoming rough with desire. "Say it again." 

“I’m only yours, Baekhyunnie,” you repeated. 

Baekhyun felt his cock twitch inside you at your words. He gritted his teeth, determined to make this last as long as possible. Not having sex in almost two years had definitely affected his ability to last.  "Fuck," he groaned, "You feel so good."

He reached down and began to play with your clit, earning another drawn out moan from your pretty mouth. He continued working you with his fingers, finding the right rhythm for your body and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your climax. 

“I think I’m gonna…” you breathed, not wanting to finish the sentence.

"Cum for me then, baby," he whispered, more than a little relieved, because he, too, was close and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold it off. "Show me how much you love me." He increased his pace now, feeling it was safe to do so, thrusting deeper and harder into your tight cunt.

“Baekhyun,” you mewled, feeling your orgasm rush over you. You’d had orgasms before, you weren’t that innocent, but this one was different. You felt this one in your entire body, to the tips of your toes, making them curl.

"That's it. Let go." His hips slammed into yours, driving him deeper still as he felt you tense and shudder around him. He felt you climax, your body writhing beneath him. "You're so sexy,” he said, continuing his pace. “Fuck," he groaned suddenly, "I'm cumming too." He pulled out of you, quickly, his cock erupting in a hot, thick stream across your stomach. "I'm sorry," he said. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to cum inside you and I was too far gone and I panicked and pulled out. I’ll get something to clean you up.” He made a move to get up.

“It’s okay,” you said, pulling your husband close. You’d forgotten to tell him you were on the pill now, but it didn’t matter. “Stay with me.”

Baekhyun did as he was told, laying down beside you and wrapping his arms around you. “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” you said, honestly. It had been such a long day. “But happy.”

“I’m glad. Did you… enjoy that?” Baekhyun asked, a little awkwardly.

“It was perfect. It was the best I could’ve asked for.”

“Good,” Baekhyun said, kissing you on the lips. “Now try to get some sleep. It’s the beginning of our life together, my darling wife.”

☆*: .｡. o💘o .｡.:*☆

[scoobydoodean]

if the spn queer poll showed me anything, it's that sam girls don't even like the show version of sam 😭 i can't even fault them for that tbh

(before i get misunderstood!) i don't hate show sam personally, i love him, warts and all. the sam girls just take a lot of creative liberties with the fanon version and i get the appeal of that

Fanon Sam is just so not my jam that I will never get it I don't think. I just don't see it as an improvement. But funnily enough, I was just thinking a little while ago that the reason queer Sam meta falls so flat for me is that every time I see it, it's based around what I regard as aspects of Sam that are misunderstood. Specifically, the idea that Sam was rejected by his family ever since he was a child because he was a freak. In the typical queer Sam narrative, Sam's "otherness" and his family's rejection makes him queer-coded. If you take it a step further, then within this framework, Sam is "forced" for the entire series to assimilate into hunting instead of being allowed to be "himself". So the predominant queer Sam meta overlaps with the interpretation of Sam as this autonomy-less baby who is forced to be a hunter his whole life, and that just isn't Sam's story.

In reality, Sam suffered from childhood neglect, and that neglect gave him some hangups, but he rejected his family from a fairly young age because they were freaks. On a very surface level, we can say he rejected them because John wanted him to be someone Sam wasn't, but when we dig just a tiny bit deeper... the whole first season slowly unravels all of John and Sam's similarities, and the reason Sam rejected his family is that they weren't normal and being normal was what Sam initially wanted most desperately at that time. Over the first few seasons, Sam slowly comes to the realization that he loves his family, that he doesn't want to be normal, and that hunting with his freak family is where he's at his happiest. I have a whole tag for this called #sam the hunter, but I'd like to focus on this bit of dialogue in 4.17 "It's A Terrible Life" when Sam is actually forced to assimilate into a normal life, because I think it fits into what I regard as a more compelling queer Sam meta where hunting actually represents Sam embracing queerneess, and normal life is Sam trying to/being forced to assimilate into a cishet mold:

SAM: No. I—I just can't shake this feeling like I—like I don't belong here. You know? Like I should do something more than sit in a cubicle. DEAN: I think most people who work in a cubicle feel that same way. SAM: No. Well, look, it's more than that. Like, I don't like my job. I don't like this town. I don't like my clothes. I don't like my own last name. I don't know how else to explain it, except that...it feels like I should be doing something else. There's just something in my blood. Like I was destined for something different. What about you? You ever feel that way?

Sam describing being forced to be normal by Zachariah and losing his life as a freak hunter like... dysphoria??? Anyone??? He doesn't know who he really is, but he knows something isn't right—he doesn't like the image that greets him in the mirror. He feels stuffed into a ill-fitting normal life—forced to perform something that is not him, and he's desperate to get out to the point he asks Dean Smith—a relative stranger—to run away with him and go be ghost hunters.

5.12 can serve as another example, where Sam is again shoved into someone else's ill-fitting normal life and their actual body, and acts like an angry wet cat about it the entire time, culminating in this exchange:

SAM Yeah, I know. I'm telling you, kid – I wish I had your life. GARY You do? Thanks. SAM Get out of here. GARY and NORA head for the house. DEAN That was a nice thing to say. SAM I totally lied. That kid's life sucked ass. All that apple-pie, family crap? It's stressful. Trust me – we didn't miss a damn thing.

I think that when we embrace the idea that Sam is ultimately a hunter at the core and that hunting is where he feels most himself and most accepted, and allow hunting in of itself (at least in Sam's case) to serve as a metaphor for self-acceptance, and allow his family he initially rejected to be a family of freaks (i.e. queer), and allow college and the push for normality to represent him as a queer man desperately trying to assimilate into "normal" society only to realize happiness comes with embracing who he really is... we stumble across a much more compelling queer Sam meta.

[dollsinvogue]

Clawdeen Wolf core doll diary scans

Found a bunch of old monster high diaries and I wanted to share them! Also does anyone else remember these “unlock more online” codes??

English + Français transcription below

English:

this diary belongs to: Clawdeen Wolf

This is my diary. If you want your life to last longer than it takes to read it. You won't.

Unlock more online: MHCWPACK

July 14th

I got up late so there was no hot water left then I cut myself shaving this cause my razor was dull and I was in hurry to get out of the freezing water but amazingly enough the day actually went down hill from there… Later on Crescent, the alpha Kitty, must have sensed my mood cause instead of spending the night prowling around he curled up in my lap and Kept me company while sorted through my funk.

July 15th

It rained today. I hate the rain. It totally caused my hair to poof out and I was not about to spend the rest of the day looking like a were-poodle. So I grabbed a pair of electric clippers and 15 minutes later I had a new 'do. It's short, scary cute and perfectly wolfish I think I'll keep it for a while or at least until this rain goes away. I have decided that when I control my own fashion empire I'm going to have a stylist on call just for rainy days.

August 4th

I hate, hate, hate! sharing a room with my sister. Howleen totally growls in her sleep, she wears my clothes and she got sprayed by a skunk last week which means that every time she takes a bath, which isn't often, it stinks up the whole room. I'd hope she gets fleas but she'd just spread them to me.

August 7th

I've got to get serious about planning what I'm going to wear on the first day of school this year. I mean It's not like I'm worried about some monster showing up and looking more fabulous than me but I feel obligated to set the bar for everyone else. Last year on the first day of school I caused a minor traffic jam just walking across the school parking lot. It's going to be hard to top that but I've been experimenting with some new hair styles and I'm considering just asking for a school assembly so that crowd control won't be a problem.

August 10th

I tried a new hair remover made especially for werewolves. The label says it will totally eclipse unwanted hair and it's supposed to keep you hair-free for a week …not. It's expensive, it stings worse than wolfs bane and I still have to shave twice a day! What a rip…I could have used that money for a new belt.

August 15th

spent the day at Draculaura's. She's the absolute sweetest BMFF ever! Although if she doesn't stop trying to feed me tofu im going to bite her j/k ;p. She has like rooms and rooms of clothes. It's like a fashion museum. So awesome! She always says that were going to pick out clothes to give Ghoul Will but she always gives most of them to me. I pretend I don't need them but with so many brothers and sisters it's not like there's a lot of extra money to go around for new fashions. I guess we must have gotten a little loud though cause we woke up her dad. He doesn't really like werewolves very much but he tolerates me cause I'm friends with Draculaura. Whatever. It's not like I want to hang out with him either. Anyway, the best thing about Draculaura is that she doesn't give me clothes because she feels sorry for me, she does it because she’s my friend.

August 19th

Went to the Maul with Clawd today. He needed a new football and I needed to get some ideas for my next hair style. While I was there I saw the strangest thing. I was walking past the witches Kitchen supply store and saw Deuce Gorgon reading a cookbook! I yelled "Yo Deuce, trying to find a recipe for snake?" He dropped the cookbook and looked all embarrassed; at least I think he was. It's hard to tell what's going on behind those glasses. I think he would have tried to stone me but Clawd walked up and Deuce chilled. Sometimes it's cool to have the toughest guy in the school on your side. Thanks bro!

August 21st

If I were a mad scientist, the hairstyle experiment I tried today would be locked away in the lab never to see the light of day again. I flat ironed my hair so it was straight and then I razor cut it. As soon as the curl came back things got ugly. Even Howleen felt sorry for me. It's a good thing I'm the werewolf equivalent of Rapunzel and my hair will be grown out by the end of the week or I’d be wearing a hat until Halloween.

August 23rd

Draculaura tried to talk me into trying out for the fearleading squad again. Puhh…leeze. A list of why I'm not a fearleader:

I. I don't "Try out" for anything.

2. I wouldn't be caught human in those uniforms.

3-8 Boring and Cleo de Nile

9. While they're yelling for the boys I'm in the stands flirting with the boys.

10. Boring and Cleo de Nile.

I have thought about trying out just to show I could nake the team but then I look at my list again and it reminds me why I don't want to.

August 25th

Hung out at the Maul with Draculaura and met a new girl named Frankie Stein. She was shopping with her mom and fortunately for Frankie then ran into us. Otherwise she would have started the first day of school dressed like the Bride of Lame-n-stein. Frankie's beautiful and sweet but a bit naive. Fortunately, I’m here to make sure she gets properly educated in the ways of the fierce fashionista.

September 5th

Our annual End of summer family bar-boo-que was todan. Mmmmm...fat juicy steaks for everybody. Except for Draculaura of course. She brought tofu dogs, veggie burgers and a human boy named Jackson Jekyll. She'll always be my BMFF and the sweetest monster ever but ghoulfriend makes some strange choices. Anyway, I could tell he was really nervous, and what human surrounded by werewolves wouldn't be, until Clawd started talking about football and then the two of them kinda hit it off. I think Draculaura is major league crushing on this guy.

September 6th

I know most monsters are probably dreading starting school but not me. I want to learn as much as I can so that I'll be totally prepared when I start building my fashion empire. If for nothing else than to be able to move out of the house and get my own place without having to share everything with all my brothers and sisters. Oh no! I think I smell Howleen in the shower! Why couldn't I have been an only wolf?

About Me

Name: Clawdeen Wolf

Age: 15

Monster Parents: The Werewolf

Killer Style: I’m a fierce fashionista with a confident no-nonsense attitude. I'm also gorgeous, intimidating, and absolutely loyal to my friends.

Freaky Flaw: My hair is worthy of a shampoo commercial and that's just what grows on my legs. Plucking and shaving is definitely a full time job but that's a small price to pay for being scarily fabulous.

Pet: Crescent, a scary cute little kitten as fuzzy as I am.

Favorite Activity: Shopping and flirting with the boys!

Biggest Pet Peeve: I hate having so many of my brothers and sisters in school at the same time. They're annoying, embarrassing, and totally know how to push my buttons. Oh, and Cleo de Nile.

Favorite School Subject: Economics. One day I plan on having my own fashion empire and I want to know as much about business as I do about fashion.

Least Favorite School Subject: Gym. It's only because then won't let me participate in my platforn wedges.

Favorite Color: Gold- it’s the only thing Cleo de Nile and I can ever agree on

Favorite Food: Steak...rare.

BFF's: Frankie Stein and Draculaura

Français:

ce journal appartient à: Clawdeen Wolf

Ceci est mon journal intime. Si tu veux que ta vie dure plus longtemps que sa lecture...Tu ne le liras pas

Accède à plus de contenu en ligne: MHCWPACK

14 juillet

Je me suis levée en retard, et il n’y avait plus d'eau chaude. Ensuite, je me suis coupée en me rasant parce que mon rasoir n’était pas bien affûté et que j'étais pressée de sortir de cette eau glacée. Et la journée ne s'est pas améliorée... Plus tard, Crescent le chaton alpha doit avoir senti que je n'étais pas de bonne humeur, car au lieu de passer la soirée à tourner en rond, il s'est couché sur mes genoux et m’a tenu compagnie tant que je ne m'étais pas remise de mes émotions.

5 juillet

Il a plu aujourd'hui. Je déteste la pluie. À cause de ça, mes cheveux étaient hors de contrôle. Je n'avais pas l'intention de passer le reste de la journée avec un look de caniche-garou. Alors j'ai pris deux tondeuses électriques et 15 minutes plus tard, j'avais une nouvelle coupe! C'est court, effroyablement joli et reflète parfaitement ma nature de loup. Je pense que je vais garder ce style un bout de temps, ou au moins le temps que la pluie cesse. J'ai décidé que lorsque je dirigerai mon propre empire de la mode, j'aurai un styliste de garde rien que pour les jours de pluie.

4 août

Je déteste, déteste, déteste!! partager une chambre avec ma soeur. Howleen groque dans son sommeil et elle porte mes vêtements. Une mouffette l'a arrosée la semaine dernière, ce qui signifie que chaque fois qu'elle prend un bain, c'est-à-dire pas très souvent, ça sent dans toute la pièce. Je lui souhaiterais bien d'attraper des puces, mais elle me les transmettrait aussi.

7 août

II faut que je pense sérieusement à ce que je vais porter pour la rentrée scolaire cette année. Ce n'est pas comme si j'avais peur qu’un autre monstre ait l'air plus fabuleux que moi, mais je me sens obligée de mettre la barre assez haute pour les autres. L'année passée, lors de la rentrée, j'ai provoqué un mini-embouteillage rien qu'en traversant le stationnement de l'école. Ça va être difficile de renouveler l'exploit, mais j'ai essané quelques novveaux stules de coiffure et j'envisage de demander une réunion scolaire pour qu'il y ait un meilleur contrôle des foules.

10 août

J'ai essayé une nouvelle crème dépilatoire conçue spécialement pour les loups-garous. L'étiquette dit qu'elle fait totalement disparaître les poils indésirables et elle est censée les empêcher de repousser pendant toute une semaine... mon oeil! Ça coûte cher, ça sent pire qu'ne meute de loups et je suis toujours obligée de me raser deux fois par jour! C'est du vol... J'aurais pu utiliser cet argent pour une nouvelle ceinture.

15 août

J'ai passé la journée chez Draculaura. C'est vraiment la plus gentille de toutes les amies! Mais si elle essaie encore de me faire avaler du tofu, je vais la mordre! Je blague...;p. Il y a plein de pièces remplies de vêtements chez elle. Un véritable musée de la mode! C'est super! Elle dit toujours que nous allons choisir des vêtements à donner à des oeuvres de charité, mais elle m'en donne toujours la plus grande partie. Je fais semblant de ne pas en avoir. besoin, mais avec tous mes frères et soeurs, il ne reste pas beaucoup d'argent pour magasiner. Je crois qu'on a fait un peu trop de bruit l'autre jour parce que nous avons réveillé son père. Il n'aime pas vraiment les loups-garous mais il me tolère parce que je suis amie avec Draculaura. Peu importe. Ça n'est pas comme si je voulais être son amie. De toute façon, ce qu'il y a de bien avec Draculaura c'est qu'elle ne me donne pas des vêtements parce qu'elle a pitié de moi, mais parce que c'est mon amie.

19 août

Je suis allée aux Galeries l'Épouvante avec Clawd aujourd'hui. Il avait besoin d'un nouveau ballon de football et je cherchais de nouvelles idées pour ma prochaine coiffure. Là-bas, jai vu quelqu'un chose de très étrange. Je passais devant le magasin de chaudrons de sorcière et j'ai aperçu Deuce Gorgon en train de live un livre de cuisine! J'ai crié «Hé, Deuce! Tu cherches une recette de serpents?» Il a lâché le livre et avait l'air très embarrassé, du moins c'est ce que j'ai pensé. C'est difficile de deviner ce qui se passe derrière ces lunettes. Je crois qu'il aurait bien essayé de me transformer en pierre, mais Clawd s'est approché et Deuce s'est calmé. Quelque fois, c'est cool d'avoir le gars le plus costaud de l'école de son côté. Merci!

21 août

Si j'étais un savant fou, l'expérience de coiffure que j'ai essayée aujourd'hui resterait à jamais sous clé dans le laboratoire. J'ai utilisé un fer pour aplatir mes cheveux avant de les couper au rasoir. Mais quand mes boucles naturelles sont revenues, le résultat était horrible. Même Howleen avait de la peine pour moi. Une chance que je suis l'équivalent de Raiponce chez les loups-garous et que mes cheveux auront repoussé d'ici la fin de la semaine, sinon j'aurais dû porter un chapeau jusqu'à l'Halloween.

23 août

Draculaura a encore essayé de me convaincre de passer une audition pour la brigade de la terreur. Pfff... sans espoir. Voilà la liste des raisons pour lesquelles je ne veux pas être dans la brigade:

I. Je ne fais pas d'auditions pour quoi que ce soit.

2. Je ne voudrais pas être vue dans ces uniformes.

3-8. C'est ennuyant... et Cleo de Nile

9. Pendant qu'elles crient pour encourager les garçons, je suis dans les gradins en train de flirter avec les garçons.

10. C'est ennuyant... et Cleo de Nile

J'avais pensé essayer juste pour montrer que je peux entrer dans l'équipe, puis j'ai jeté à nouveau un coup d'oeil à ma liste et ça m'a rappelé pourquoi je ne veux pas.

25 août

Je suis allée aux Galeries l'Épouvante avec Draculaura et nous y avons rencontré une nouvelle fille qui s'appelle Frankie stein. Elle magasinait avec sa mère et, heureusement pour Frankie, nous les avons rencontrées. Sinon, elle aurait commencé l'école habillée comme la fiancée de Horrible-stein. Frankie est belle et charmante mais un peu naive. Heureusement, je suis là pour assurer son éducation dans la plus pure tradition de la mode.

5 septembre

Aujourd'hui a eu lieu notre barbe-queue familial destiné à commémorer la Fin de l'été. Mmmmm.... des steaks gras et bien juteux pour tout le monde. Sauf pour Draculaura bien sûr. Elle avait apporté des saucisses de tofu, des hamburgers végétariens et un humain du nom de Jackson Jekyll. Elle sera toujours ma meilleure amie pour la vie et le monstre le plus gentil qui soit, mais elle fait parfois des choix étranges. Mais bon. J'ai remarqué quil était vraiment nerveux (mais quel humain entouré de loups-garous ne le serait pas)... Jusqu'à ce que Clawd commence à parler de football. Ensuite, ils ont eu l'air de bien s'entendre. Je crois que ce garçon intéresse vraiment Draculaura.

6 septembre

Je sais que la plupart des monstres n'ont pas le goût de retourner à l'école, mais pas moi. Je veux apprendre le plus possible pour être bien préparée le jour où je commencerai à bâtir mon empire de la mode. Même si ce n'est que pour pouvoir quitter la tanière et trouver un endroit pour moi toute seule où je n'aurai pas à partager quoi que ce soit avec mes frères et soeurs. Oh, non! Je crois que je sens Howleen sous la douche! Pourquoi je ne suis pas un loup unique?

Infos Personelles

Nom: Clawdeen Wolf

Age: 15 ans

Parents monstres: Le Loup-garou

Look d'enfer: J'adore vraiment la mode et j'ai une grande confiance en moi. Je suis également ravissante, redoutable et d'une grande loyauté envers mes amis.

Particularité: Mes cheveux sont diques d'une pub de shampooing... Le problème c'est qu'ils poussent aussi sur mes jambes. L'emploi d'une pince à épiler et d'un rasoir constitue définitivement un travail à temps plein, wais dest ou petit prix à paver pour paraître effroyablement fabuleuse.

Animal de compagnie: Crescent, un petit chaton affreusement miguon qui a autant de duvet que moi.

Activité préférée: Magasiner et flirter avec les garçons!

Ce que je déteste le plus: Je déteste avoir autant de frères et soeurs à l'école en même temps. Ils sont Tannants, embarrassants et savent exactement convient viénerver. Oh j'allais aublier...et Cleo de Nile.

Matière préférée à l'école : L'économie. J'aimerais avoir mon propre empire de la mode un jour, alors je veux en apprendre autant sur les affaires que j’en connais sur la mode l’étudier

Matière que aime le moins L'éducation physique. C'est juste parce que je v'ai pas le droit de mettre mes chaussures à plate-forme.

Couleur préférée : Or - C'est bien la seule chose sur laquelle Cleo de Nile et moi sommes d'accord.

Nourriture preférée Un steak... saiguant.

Amis pour la vie: Frankie Stein et Draculaura

[gummydummy19]

Hi Gummy!<3

You shared that awful experience and I imagine...

Captain Sy and his insubordinate younger brother. His brother (let's say, Jim?) flirted with you in a pub. You don't really spark and he seemed a bit too slick for your liking, but Jim is persistent and (gradually annoying). It was not long before Captain Sy came barging in and took his younger brother home (and surprise surprise, Jim isn't reaching his drinking age yet XD), which is how you met. Maybe you met him again a few days later in the same pub, maybe you worked on a project that involves the military (hence Sy)

And somehow one of the worst encounters you have had in your life turns out to be the one in which you met the love of your life :3

Just a lil thot :3

JDHDKHCB JAM WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE THE BEST IDEAS I absolutely freaking love this oml

How I met your mother

Content Warnings: fluff, swearing, unwanted flirting (from Sy's brother)

Word Count: 1.9k+

A/N: Since we're in the middle of the holidays, I decided to give this a little holiday twist :)) Imagine this as a throwback to how you met your hunky husband Sy... In the throwback Jim is 19, Sy is 27, and the reader is 23. In the present Sy is 42, reader is 38, Jim is 34.

Alright? All clear? Everyone good? Let's get this party started then

The entire family was gathered around your beautifully decorated dining table. It was well past midnight, and everyone was stuffed full of delicious food and the expensive wine you saved for special occasions. Sy had his hand resting on your thigh as you both listened to his dad share stories of when he was in the Navy.

"Fuck!" you heard your 13-year-old son yell from the couch behind you, waking up your 9-year-old daughter who was dozing off on her dad's lap.

"Jacob!" you snapped your head back at him, but the boy just rolled his eyes at you.

He was playing some new zombie-murder-call thievery videogame he had gotten for Christmas, courtesy of his uncle Jim.

"Don't you roll your eyes at your mother", Sy stepped in, "and watch your mouth, or that game is going on the shelf till summer."

"But dad!" he whined

"No buts!"

Now it was your turn to put your hand on your husband's thigh, giving him a sweet look to let him know you'd handle it.

"Jake, why don't you come sit with us for a little bit, hmm? Haven't you played long enough?"

"Oh come on, let the kid have some fun", Jim chimed in, earning an angry glare from his brother Sy.

"Yeah and who better to teach him that than his uncle Jim, right?" Sy spat.

"What's that supposed to mean?", Jim shot back.

"You know damn well what that means."

"Dad?" your little girl tugged on Sy's shirt.

"Yes, princess?"

"Don't you think Uncle Jim is fun?"

"Of course I do, Maya, it's just that Uncle Jim used to give us a whole lot of trouble, just like your brother gives us right now."

"Hey!" Jim and Jacob groan simultaneously.

"Oh, I think Jim caused quite some more trouble than our Jakey", you defended your son, who had finally sat down next to you at the table. You gave him a loving ruffle through his brown curls, remembering what Sy's hair used to look like before he started buzzing it off.

"Yeah well, give him a couple years", Jim joked.

"What kinda trouble did Uncle Jim get into?", your little girl chimed in again.

The three of you exchanged some looks before you finally spoke up. "Oh, I can think of a few things, but my favorite one is the story of how your father and I met", you smiled.

"Oh god", Jim groaned, "Can't you just tell them about the pranks I pulled in college or something?"

"No no", Sy chuckled, "I quite like this particular story".

"I love storytime!" your daughter yelled out excitedly.

"I'm kinda intrigued now too," Jake agreed, grinning at his uncle.

Sy's mother gave her husband a look as she sipped from her herb tea and you knew she loved this story too.

"It was 15 years ago", you started, "Me and my friends had just graduated college that summer. By wintertime, a couple of us had started working, or even gotten married, so we decided to catch up right before the holidays"

Flashback

"I can't believe it's almost been six whole months since we've all gotten together" your friend Sarah chided before taking a sip of her cosmo. “I know, I’ve missed you guys like crazy!” You said honestly. The five of you sat there and talked for what felt like hours, sipping on cosmo’s and sharing the juiciest stories from work or dating drama. It was like no time had passed at all.

“Alright girls, I’m gonna go get another refill anyone else need anything?”, you asked as you got up to walk towards the bar. The drinks were definitely starting to get to your head, but you didn’t care in the slightest. This was the most fun you’d had in weeks.

With a fuzzy head, you made your way over to the bar, still giggling at a joke your friend made 10 minutes ago. Leaning against the polished wood, you managed to catch the bartender's attention. "Um, two... wait, no, three more of these," you mumbled in your slightly tipsy state as you shoved your empty glass toward him.

You were patiently waiting for your drinks when a young, arrogant-looking guy slid up next to you, "Hey there! What are we drinking tonight?" he asked and you rolled your eyes.

"Just a couple drinks with my friends" you replied curtly, avoiding eye contact with him.

"Just you and your girls, huh? No boyfriend?"

"Nope."

"Are you looking for one?"

"Nope."

"Hmm I see, more a hit and run kinda gal, huh?" he smirked.

Damn, this guy was annoying.

"Look pal, I'm trying to have a good time with my girls, alright?" You finally turned to look at him. He sure wasn't ugly, but not your type. Besides, he looked a little on the young side you thought and you started to wonder if he should even be in here.

"That's alright baby, I'm all for good times", he stated with a proud grin, making you roll your eyes again.

The bartender slid over your drinks and grabbed them quickly "I'm not your 'baby', now if you will excuse me", you pushed passed him but his hand gently grabbed onto your waist.

"Oh come on, don't be like that...", if your hands hadn't been full you would have smacked him in the face for sure. You looked down at his hands on you and then straight into his eyes.

"You have about two seconds to get your hands off me before you get covered in Cosmo's and my knee introduces itself to your crotch."

"I just-" he started and you got ready to throw your 30 dollars worth of cocktails in his face.

"JIM!", a loud roar sounded through the bar, grabbing everyone's attention, including yours and the guy holding onto you.

He quickly dropped his hands and took a step back from you as the man who just entered stalked towards him. The entire movement made you drop your drinks, but you were too startled to care.

"L-logan....the hell are you doing here, man?", the boy stuttered and his whole demeanor changed in a split second.

"Me? What the fuck do you think you're doing here?!", you let your eyes roam over his body as he yelled out. He was clearly older than you. And definitely older than the arrogant guy. It was obvious that they knew each other. You wondered how. They seemed like two very different guys. The older one had a casual confidence whereas the younger one had made up arrogance.

You stayed frozen in place as you watched them yell at each other. The more you looked at their faces the more you started to notice similarities. The older one was bigger, with quite a bit more muscle to him, but they had the same strong jaw and nose, and their eyes were the same gorgeous shade of blue. Could they be...

"Miss, I'm really sorry for my brother."

"I uhm,...okay, that's okay", you mumbled.

The man gave you a friendly look before sticking his hand out.

"I'm Logan Syverson, but everyone calls me Sy. And that's my little brother Jimmy. I'm really sorry if he gave you any trouble, he's been acting out a bit lately."

You shook his hand without breaking eye contact. The second your skin made contact with his you felt your stomach drop...weird.

"Hey, I'm not a fucking kid!" Jim yelled out, earning an angry glare from Sy.

"Then maybe you should stop acting like one, Jimmy. You really think I wouldn't notice you taking my fucking bike? Huh?", Sy yelled, "You're taking the truck back home. Gimme my fucking keys back."

Reluctantly, Jim gave Sy the keys to his bike and Sy gave him the car keys in return.

"You didn't drink, did you?" Sy asked with a raised brow.

"No, Logan, I fucking didn't. Okay?!" he snapped before turning around and storming out. While you heard the car door slamming closed and the engine starting outside, Sy turned back to you.

"I'm really sorry about all that..." he scratched through his brown curls before his eye fell on the puddle of Cosmo's on the floor, "Oh christ, uh, here, please let me buy you a new round," he said, already pulling out his wallet.

"Oh no, no it's okay really, you don't have to", you assured him.

"No, I insist. I promise I won't stick around to bother you or anything, but just let me pay for them, please?"

Now how could you say no to that?

"Alright then, if you insist", you gave him a sweet smile.

The two of you walked to the bar and as you waited for your order, you couldn't help but give him a once-over. He was wearing a dark pair of jeans and a black shirt with some old writing on it. He was much taller than you, and big...very big. With a mind that was still half tipsy, you couldn't help the words that left your mouth next.

"You know...", you started, getting his attention, "I wouldn't mind if you did stick around for a bit...to bother me."

You swore Sy's eyes twinkled for a second as you looked up at him. Of course, he found you attractive. You were probably the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Scratch that. Not probably, definitely.

But still, the gentleman in him wanted to politely refuse, given your clouded state and what his brother made you endure already, but then your hand touched his arm and your eyes found his. "Please? I insist", you pleaded, and Sy caved. "Alright then, if you insist...", he was only a man after all, and he could only take so much.

Meanwhile, at the girl's table, everyone was far too drunk and caught up in whatever story they were telling to have noticed what just went down. But all the giggling came to a quick stop when a tall handsome man towered over them with four cosmopolitans in his hand.

"Ladies, this is Sy", you introduced him, holding three more drinks, "My savior of the night, and the buyer of our next round."

End flashback

"Aww, dad was her hero!", Maya yelled out.

"He still is", you smiled, leaning into Sy and pressing a kiss on his shoulder.

"Hold on. So, you tried to hit on mom?", Jake turned to his uncle, "That's gross, dude."

"Alright, okay, I remember that story a little differently", Jim spoke up, looking even grumpier than before.

"He was just a teenager", you defended your brother-in-law.

"I was almost twenty", Jim stated.

"Yeah, that doesn't exactly help your case, bud", Sy spoke up, wrapping his arm around you as you tried to stifle a giggle.

"So what happened after that?", Maya asked curiously.

"Well, your dad was too nervous to ask for my number, so I asked for his."

"Hey! I was just trying to be a gentleman", Sy defended argued, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

"Sure thing, hun", you grinned, "The week after we met up again in that same bar, and the rest is history."

"Is that bar still there?", Jacob asked.

"Actually, they turned it into a restaurant, but it's still called Mickey's."

"Hey, isn't that where...", your son started

"Where your dad proposed to me, yeah." you smiled fondly. "and we still go there every year on our anniversary..."

The end

Taglist;

@metalbuckaroo @princessayveke @montsepliego @scxrletrecsmarvel @hopelesslyrogers @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @tfandtws @vicmc624 @ahahafudge @enchantedbarnes @wickedravyn @pono-pura-vida @amayaraestyles @matchat3a @fictional-hooman @sebastianexplicit @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @jamneuromain @tryingtoliveonmywishes @mrsevans90 @daybreak96 @tiredqueen73 @fallingforunrealisticromance @identity2212 @randomweirdoss @ragamuffin285 @juliaorpll78 @geralts-yenn @imjusthereforliam @bangtanstoeart @squeezyvalkyrie @enchantedbytomandhenry @superduckmilkshake @kingliam2019 @bascmve01 @missgaygurl @foxyjwls007 @mollymal @urmomsgirlfriend1 @luxeydior

[aspoonofsugar]

The Devil's Cake

I have just finished One Piece's Whole Cake Island Arc, I loved it and I wanna analyze its major themes and ideas. Still, keep in mind I have only read this one arc of the series, so I won't be able to connect what happens in this storyline with everything else going on. In any case, here come my thoughts!

As @hamliet highlights in her meta, One Piece is a story, which follows the Fool's Journey:

What is the Fool’s Journey? It’s the “Major Arcana” of the tarot deck, consisting of 22 cards that follow a particular order and tell a story that is supposed to represent a journey through life. (from hamliet's meta)

In particular, the Whole Cake Island Arc alludes to the 15th card, the Devil:

The Devil is not an evil, sinister figure residing outside of us. He is the knot of ignorance and hopelessness lodged within each of us at some level. The seductive attractions of the material bind us so compellingly that we often do not even realize our slavery to them. We live in a limited range of experience, unaware of the glorious world that is our true heritage. The couple on Card 15 are chained, but acquiescent. They could so easily free themselves, but they do not even apprehend their bondage. They look like the Lovers, but are unaware that their love is circumscribed within a narrow range. The price of this ignorance is an inner core of despair. (Meaning of the Devil from learntarot.com)

In other words:

The Devil represents ignorance, raw uncontrolled instincts and slavery to the material world. All of these ideas are explored in the arc. In particular, they are embodied by Big Mom.

The card has three characters on it. The Devil itself (usually an ermaphrodite) and the chained lovers (usually a man and a woman). Similarly, the Whole Cake Island Arc's premise is that Big Mom (the devil) forces Sanji and Pudding (the lovers) into a wedding against their will. Moreover, the arc has masculinity and femininity as secondary themes.

Let's go deeper.

BIG MOM, THE DEVIL

Big Mom is the Devil, as her introductory song Bloody Party makes clear:

Let's all eat a tasty cake! It's the sweetest deal to make! The tea party from hell! Is it strawberry jam? (Or someone's blood?) Either one is fine! If you're invited, you have to come! A demonic sacrifice for our sweet pastime! This is... our beloved... land of dreams! A country where all peoples come together! It's... Totto Land!

She tricks people with the sweetest of deals, but eventually traps and consumes them. This is shown both when it comes to Sanji's plotline and to the way she manages her kingdom:

She makes Sanji and his family believe she is gonna give them what they want. She is letting the Straw Hats leave. She is supporting Germa 66 in their quest to get their land back. However, it is soon revealed she has no intention of keeping either promise.

She offers her subjects peace and acceptance and welcomes them into a land of dreams. After all, Totto Land is gorgeous: it has many races living happily together, it is made of sweets and it is so full of life even inanimate things get a soul! Isn't Big Mom kind of like a God, who grants life? Except she isn't really giving life to objects, but rather she is objectifying life:

The condition to stay in Totto Land is for people to give up their life-span. As a matter of fact Big Mom's Soul Soul Fruit lets her steal souls, which is precisely what the Devil does. Not only that, but she masks her Hell as Heaven and baits people with sweetness, which is why her territory has a food motif. She seems nice, until you realize you can't really leave her:

If you stay, you have to give up a part of your life. If you wanna leave, you have to die. There is no way out. At least until one realizes what's really keeping people prisoners of Big Mom is their own minds. Just like the lovers in the card could easily free themselves, leaving Big Mom isn't impossible:

All you have to do is not to fear the Devil and its threats disappear. Similarly, Big Mom is a big fat lie herself: her dream, her country, her family and her power are all fake.

SANJI AND PUDDING, THE CHAINED LOVERS

Sanji and Pudding are the chained lovers:

Greedy Mama's false plot was both devious and smart! Matching fairy tale prince and princess fair, in a sham that was meant to keep them apart.

In particular, they are forced to play Prince and Princess in two different ways.

On the one hand Sanji and Pudding are chained together against their will in a fake wedding. They are the handsome prince and the beautiful princess getting married on top of a giant cake:

They are not even the protagonists of their own marriage, but merely cake toppings in Big Mom's tea party.

On the other hand Sanji and Pudding are prisoners of their families, which push gender roles on them:

Germa 66 is a patriarchy, which values strength and violence. Its ruler Judge represses his emotions and wants his children to do the same. They must be emotionless killing machines. As a result, Sanji is expected to embody hyper-masculinity and to hide all his feminine traits, like his kindness and even his passion for cooking. After all, he is Germa 66's Prince.

Totto Land is a matriarchy, which values superficial harmony and beauty. Its queen Big Mom gets dangerous when upset and is very emotional. So, everybody has to conform to her wishes. As a result, Pudding is expected to embody hyper-femininity. She must be Big Mom's doll, so she masks her ugliest parts, like her bloodlust (psychological) and her third eye (physical). After all, she is Totto Land's Princess.

So, both Sanji and Pudding are asked to compartmentalize themselves, so they can fit in simplistic boxes for their parents to use. Sanji has to be a super-soldier to win Judge's war, whereas Pudding has to be a seductress to advance Lin Lin's political schemes. They are even both the result of eugenetics. Judge uses a powerful drug to steal his sons' humanity before they are even born. Big Mom instead gets together with a three-eyed, so that she can have a child able to read Poneglyphs.

The two families may seem opposite, but both are abusive and force the kids to repress parts of themselves:

Happiness (Sanji's love for food is symbolically negated by the iron mask).

Sadness (Pudding's tears are symbolically negated by her third eye being covered).

At the same time, Sanji and Pudding's reactions to their abuse are opposite, just like their standings in their families.

Sanji is the scapegoat, as he can't be who Judge wants him to be. He refuses to fit his father's ideal and is punished by the rest of the family because of it. His brothers bully him and his sister is too scared to openly show affection for him. The situation gets so bad he is forced to cut all ties with his family and leave. He is abandoned and cancelled.

Pudding is the golden child, as she is one of Big Mom's favorite kids. She is the perfect good girl and could potentially lead her mother to the One Piece. As a result, she is beloved by her siblings and people. However, she gives up who she is in exchange. She always wears a mask to the point nobody knows the real her. She is trapped and with no autonomy.

The end result for both Prince and Princess is that they have to lie to survive. Sanji hides his origin from his crewmates and in Totto Land he pushes them away to protect them. Pudding instead hides her real self and tricks others to hurt them out of repressed anger. More importantly, Sanji and Pudding are deep down tricking themselves:

They tell themselves they are happy as prisoners, but that’s false. Eventually the truth comes to the surface:

Pudding finds out the Straw Hats know Lola. This has her remember something painful, which leads her to vent some of her frustration. This is why she reveals her true colors to both Reiju and the Straw Hats. This lets Sanji and the others discover Big Mom's true plan.

Sanji finds out Pudding hates him and Reiju loves him. He also realizes his family is in danger. In the face of these terrible revelations he stops lying to himself. He runs to where Luffy is and expresses his real feelings:

Just like the lovers on the card, Sanji and Pudding are trapped because of their ignorance, both of the world around them (Sanji) and of who they are inside (Pudding). In general, the whole arc is full of lies in its first act and things only get better once the lovers start unraveling the truth. Still, there is also someone else who helps in this process. A Fool, who is able to draw out people's most genuine selves.

LUFFY'S JOURNEY

Luffy is the Fool, so the protagonist of the journey. He is the individual with infinite potential, who goes through an adventure to grow up and self-actualize. So, the Whole Cake Island arc ties into his development, as he both matures and proves himself different from Big Mom. As a matter of fact our Fool is the opposite of the Devil Queen on multiple levels.

First of all, the two captains' attitudes towards a crew memeber quitting don't match. Big Mom won't let Jinbe leave her, whereas Luffy is ok with Sanji getting married, if this makes him happy.

As the arc goes on, it becomes obvious Big Mom embodies peace and conformity, while Luffy represents freedom and individuality:

Big Mom wants a place where everyone can eat while at the same eye-level. However, she wants to fulfill this by making everyone big like her. It is others, who must change, not Big Mom herself. Everyone can live in Totto Land, but only by becoming who Big Mom wants. It is "whole", but "individuals" disappear in this totality.

Luffy likes people's individuality and encourages everyone to follow their dreams, even if he might disagree with them. He wants people to grow into the best and most genuine version of themselves. To do so he is ready to fight and enter conflicts.

This difference is expressed through the main motif of the arc, that is food. Big Mom and Luffy both eat a lot and fast throughout the arc:

However, Big Mom does so out of selfishness, while Luffy does so out of selflessness. In particular, Luffy eats and fasts to discover the truth about others:

He eats Cracker's biscuits to unmask his opponent physically.

He promises to fast until Sanji cooks for him to unmask his friend psychologically.

Finally, Luffy eats to better understand himself and grow. This is the point of his fight with Katakuri. This battle happens in the mirror world and Luffy faces off against a better version of himself. This is indicative that the Straw Hat's captain is really conquering a part of himself, so he can evolve. Moreover, throughout their conflict Luffy both:

Eats Katakuri to dispel his power.

Sees Katakuri eat in a relaxed demeanor.

Luffy and Katakuri draw out the best in each other. Katakuri helps Luffy evolve his observation haki. Luffy helps Katakuri accept his real self. By the end of their battle, they both can see better:

Luffy has now a metaphorical better vision of himself and of the kind of future he wants to create (observation haki)

Katakuri can now show his most instinctive and weird part to others (his laughing and eating mouth)

Finally, Luffy proves that the important thing isn't to never touch the ground (not to lose):

But rather, it is to always get back up (to change for the better):

This is something Katakuri himself acknowledges by the end, as he decides not to fall face-down, but rather to have his back touch the ground. Symbolically, he is accepting his imperfection. Just like Luffy does.

This is something Big Mom can't do, as she is an adult stuck into the mentality of a child. She is a person who could never face herself.

A RISKY CAKE

LinLin is the Devil, not only because she lies to others, but also because she herself is trapped in several lies:

She is lied by her parents when they leave her on Carmel's island

She is lied by Carmel about her parents' abandonment when she is welcomed at the orphanage

Finally, Carmel's whole personality is a lie:

Carmel presents herself as a "holy mother", but she is neither "holy", nor a "mother":

Her miracles come from the Soul Soul Fruit's power and her desire of peace is a scam to gain the trust of the giants

Her motherly side is a facade she uses to mold children into soldiers for the World Government

So, Carmel isn't as sweet as her name may imply. She is a fake nun, so she fittingly gives birth to the Devil herself. As a matter of fact LinLin's life is spent in an attempt to emulate Carmel:

She tries to fulfill Carmel's dream of a peaceful world, where everyone is equal

She makes sure to have a big family, so that she can replace the Sheep's House

She calls all her children after food, just like Carmel was named after a dessert

Carmel's dream and family are lies, but they end up defining the Pirate Queen's existence. Even LinLin's anger towards who leaves is a projection of her own abandonment as a child. In her mind, she was left behind twice, so she can't bear for it to happen a third time. The result of this mix of lies and delusions is none other than Big Mom.

She is a child, who never had a mother, so she is now a mother, who isn't a real parent. She is a person who received a lie instead of love, so now she gives fake love.

Big Mom's inability to truly love is shown once again in the motif of food. Let's compare these two scenes:

On the one hand Luffy savors Sanji's bento. The food is soaked with water and covered in dirt, but he still appreciates it. He realizes his cook made everyone's favorite food, so the bento becomes symbolic of Sanji's love for the Straw Hats. It might be ruined, but its material appearance does not change its spiritual meaning. Luffy can see it, so he can enjoy the meal. It is as if by eating it, he is celebrating all his crew members by showing he loves them as wholes, both qualities and flaws. Just like he can forgive Sanji's lies and behavior.

On the other hand Big Mom devours Sanji's cake. Big Mom opens the arc by wishing to eat the wedding cake and she ends it by eating it. The cake is perfect, even better than her wildest dreams. However, Big Mom can't understand the cake is so tasty because Sanji put love in it:

That is because Big Mom herself doesn't understand true love. And maybe she doesn't even want to understand it:

It's sweet, it's milky (Milky) It's very rich and… (Very rich and…) Risky!!

The flavor of the cake is "risky" because love itself can be risky and complicated. To love someone means to let them free. Like Luffy does with his comrades. Like Pudding does with Lola and Sanji. However, Big Mom will never do it because she only enters relationships, where she risks nothing and the other party risks it all. This unbalance is the root of every bond she forges.

This is the meaning behind Bad End Musical. This song is the perfect conclusion for Big Mom's character in the Whole Cake Island arc.

First of all it is a "bad end", but it is a lie. Throughout the song it seems the Strawhats' boat is destroyed, but it is just a ruse and they successfully escape. It is a delusion. A sweet lie Big Mom's army enjoys for a brief instant before they are faced with the hard truth. They lost.

Secondly, it conveys beautifully what "love" and "lies" mean for Big Mom:

1)Love - Throughout the song, Big Mom eating the cake is cruelly juxtaposed to the Straw Hats being attacked repeatedly. As a result, it appears as if Big Mom is eating Luffy and his friends, rather than the cake. This is a metaphor of how Big Mom "loves" others. She eats them. Just like she ate Carmel and the other orphans. She wants to love the world, but she doesn't know how. As a result, she tries to assimilate it in her stomach, so that it becomes a part of her. Still, this isn't real love, it is just consumption. This is why Big Mom is destined to forever be hungry.

2)Lies - At one point, Big Mom is on the verge of having a revelation:

She confusedly realizes that the cake tastes the same as the one her family gave her in the happiest day of her life. That is the taste of true love. Still, this intuition does not lead to any deeper self-reflection. As a matter of fact, to do so, LinLin should admit what she did, while blinded by hunger. And she can't. She can never know she killed her loved ones. Just like she can never aknowledge the destruction she brings, while affected by her hunger pangs. Instead of this painful reality, she chooses a happy illusion:

That's why the musical ends with the juxtaposition of the ideal world LinLin dreams of creating with the cruel reality she in fact made:

A deal with the devil Makes Totto Land Serene Here we're all a family Thanks to our loving queen Big Mom!

This reality is the result of a pact with the Devil. A pact with ignorance, which does not let people mature. Big Mom is still a kid deep down and her children can never develop their own individuality, as they are stuck in their mother's shadow forever. Everyone is trapped and unable to evolve. The Queen who dreams of a Kingdom of giants ironically prevents her subjects from growing.

END ROLLS - COOKING AND EATING

The final chapter of the Whole Cake Island Arc is called End Roll, which fits Big Mom's musical motif. After the big finale, the curtains close, with a last song playing. The song is Soul Pocus, which once again highlights Big Mom's satanic symbolism:

Soul Pocus, Soul Pocus, Such self-centered words. When tempted by the scent, of that sweet cake slice. The first step is to ask about, the nature of its price. For this is not the good kind of surprise. Will you suffer her trick or hand over your treats? Sweets can be so very bad for the soul. Soul Pocus, our Mama so material. Will it be years off your life? Or your life itself? Soul Pocus, the song of our Queen. (Life or dead?)

At the same time, the chapter itself juxtaposes Big Mom with our true lovers.

1)Big Mom stays a prisoner of her own delusions. She sees herself as a kind and loving queen, but is really an abusive monster. Pudding is instead able to finally face herself.

When we meet her, Pudding is on the verge of turning out like her mother:

She is a manipulator, just like Big Mom. Her mother manipulates souls (hearts), whereas Pudding manipulates memories (minds).

She lies to herself to the point she has divided her whole personality into two distinctive sides. A kind and cute persona and a cruel and rude hidden self.

So, Pudding is the Devil's apprentice. She is on the path of becoming a liar, who lives in a lie. However, thanks to Sanji, she defies this destiny. She shows her real self, who is neither her good girl act nor her villainess mask. Rather she is a lonely girl, who loves deeply, but believes che can't be loved. Not only that, but her final act is to use her power to have Sanji forget their one kiss. She lies to him, but she does so to let him be free.

Ironically, she starts the arc by telling the Straw Hats that if she were to seriously fall in love with Sanji, she could never let him go. However, by the end she reveals herself to be even more selfless than her "good persona". She finds the strength to admit her love for Sanji (the kiss), but she also realizes he needs to be free (the erased memory). And yet, the fact she is finally facing her true emotions is her first step into adulthood and self-actualization. Pudding is not goinG to be stuck as a child, like Big Mom. Rather she is blooming into a beautiful woman.

2) Big Mom and Sanji are opposite. She eats (takes life) out of gluttony. He cooks (gives life) to dispel hunger. At the same time, they are also far more similar than one might initially think.

For example, both of them are abandoned and risk to die of starvation. Still, they both get adopted by a foster parent. However:

Carmel is a fake mother, who never truly educates LinLin nor teaches her how to control her instincts. As a result, she is eventually devoured alive and symbolically becomes LinLin's Devil Fruit herself (after all, LinLin gets the Soul Soul Fruit through consuming Carmel).

Zeff is a real father, who both takes care of Sanji and educates him. He eats his own leg, so that Sanji can survive. He teaches his son to never hurt a woman, so that he can become a true man. He is Sanji's father and his mentor, the one who made Sanji the exceptional cook he is today.

In other words, LinLin is both an unloved child and an unloving mother. Sanji and Zeff are instead a loving son and a loving father. This is why their bond is really at the heart of the whole arc. Zeff might not appear, but his presence is strongly felt:

The threat to kill Zeff is the reason why Sanji steps into Big Mom's territory to begin with.

Zeff's teachings are the reason why Sanji chooses to save his family, despite the pain they gave him. He wants to be a son Zeff can be proud of.

Finally, Zeff closes the arc together with Sanji, as they both serve food to hungry people. Both friends and foes. After all, everyone deserves to eat, everyone deserves to live, everyone deserves to be loved. Even the Devil herself:

[thedreadvampy]

I do not understand subcultural politics discourse and at this point I don't know how much is differences in the national scenes and how much is that we just have very different ideas of what these scenes are.

cause like. Punk I get. Punk is not always left wing (there has always been a Nazi punk problem) but punk IS always inherently and actively political as a definitional factor. Punk is foundationally anarchist, counter-hierarchical, and centred on anger and community cohesion. If you approach punk as apolitical or centrist you are Doing It Wrong. Nazis and right libertarians have always made up a small but vocal chunk of the community, and that's a problem punk has to address in its own ways (ideally with steel toecaps). Punk is definitionally political and has a couple of extremely foundational sets of political beliefs.

Or like, hip-hop. More complicated case cause there's even more corporate cooption involved in shaping the modern genre but hip-hop has a foundational political position. Hip-hop is focused on Black pride and power, and on addressing African-American trauma and injustice, and so it's historically working-class, anti-racist and anti-cop. It means something politically as a genre.

But some stuff people say just Does Not Jam with my experience of subculture. Like people KEEP saying 'you can't be a right-wing goth, goth is radically left wing' and all I'm saying is a) we have spoken to some VERY different elder goths bc as much as I was lucky enough to grow up in the scene, going to the goth weekends, etc, my god did some of those 60 year olds vote Tory or BNP with their whole chest. and b) as far as I'm aware the main thing that goth stands for politically is countercultural provocation and a kind of nihilistic disengagement. like Siouxie Sioux habitually used swastikas and Nazi paraphernalia to demonstrate distance from her parent's generation. a lot of the foundational Goth musicians are either right-wing or prefer to keep their politics private because they consider them separate.

like most of the goths I know are left-leaning, because there are foundational philosophical beliefs attached to goth culture and a lot of those, like fluidity of expression, resistance to established power, and celebrating marginalisation, appeal to a lot of lefties. But frankly I've known a lot of goths who are reactionary right-wingers or full on Nazis because, well, other precepts of goth culture can include stuff like nihilistic individualism and glorification of death. Plus the Nazi iconography thing, plus the widespread racism in the community. and those weren't like 'i found goth on TikTok' goths, these are like 'committed to the lifestyle since 1979' goths.

Like goth is not particularly a RIGHT-WING movement, but I have never experienced it as an explicitly political musical/subcultural movement at all? Certainly not the way that punk or reggae or outlaw country or something is.

(and speaking of reggae. I was watching Anthony Fantano and FD Signifier talking about this whole idea and FD said something as a 'isn't this a silly example' about a white nationalist looking for white nationalist reggae. and they were both laughing about what a silly idea that was

and I'm sitting there like...But that's literally exactly what happened with ska in the UK? like ska is obviously an afrocaribbean genre made by and for Black communities and uhhhh by the late 60s in Britain ska was the white nationalist sound. like skinheads love ska and in particular there are a bunch of neonazi/white nationalist ska acts. not all skinheads are far right but if skinheads have a dominant political identity it is probably more far right than far left.

and that did raise the question of differences in national scenes. like I know that behind the Iron Curtain a lot of punks were using UK and American flags the way Western punks were using Soviet iconography, and Caribbean music has a very different cultural association in the UK than in the US, and British rap has a different political outlook than American rap.

and so maybe American goth is a lot more political than British goth? but I kind of think of goth as a European subculture tbh like I think goth I think England and Germany, and the European goth music and goth scenes I've been in are......not explicitly political?)

[ome-magical-ramblings]

Review: Spiritual Cleansing by Draja Mickaharic

If there's one book I would always go back to or always look back to or recommend to others it is this book! Seriously, that's how good this book is. To start with, this book is the best because it is direct, to the point, and only 100ish pages. I honestly have to put the following "warning" that the author himself puts in the start of the book:

Because some of these things sound simple and interesting, don't get an idea to “do a variation.” When you try to work “magic” using only your own enthusiasm you are treading in dangerous waters.

How do I sell you on this book? that's a funny way of me saying that this is the best book you will have in your library as a starting beginner. First let me mention some stuff from the book, which is evil eye being the first chapter and get dealt with so swiftly with a beer bath and there's no extra mystification or complicated procedure being given. As this whole book the procedures are simple but application of them consistently will proves their benefits. In the Arbatel itself we find the following:

God and Nature have ordained all things to a certain and appointed end: so that for examples sake, they who perform cures with the most simple herbs and roots, do cure the most happily of all. And in this manner, in Constellations, Words and Characters, Stones, and such like, do lie hid the greatest influences or vertues in deed, which are in stead of a miracle.

Protection while asleep, psychic, attacks, and stuff related to sleep and protecting your loved ones can be seen here where you can help someone who can't help themselves like a child or someone who's too weak to protect themselves at night.

My Favorite Chapter(4) is the bath/spiritual baths chapter. Every part of the bath from beginning to end is filled with gems and wisdom that you will not regret. 4 Cleansing baths, 12 herbal bath, 6 household items baths, 2 love baths, and 4 nut baths, like what's MORE I can say except mention the bath he got the most testimony out of! To add ¼ cup bicarbonate of soda (baking soda) to the regular bath water is an amazing cleansing bath both physically and spiritually :) of course praying, doing it with the instructions and so on is the best you can do!

Special mentions go to chapter 6 for teaching how to cleanse with an egg and not making it some tiktokized or 30 seconds or 2 minutes version of it. What can I say more is that it is a VERY amazing chapter, for all kind of cleansing emotional or spiritual, for eyestrain, for protection while asleep, cleansing your home, cleansing the sick, and cleansing your pet!

I will jump over chapter 7 and 8 despite them being EXTREMELY good and mention that chapter 9 is a MUST READ. Mainly these methods of washing the head or feeding the head are used to work with the non-physical part of the human mentation, not exactly a replacement for psychology or psychiatry or medical treatment of mental illnesses but it is an AMAZING addition to anyone who's healthy but feel slightly "off".

The last chapter and appendix is about finding spiritual practitioner to help you, and what Draja describe as "Recommended System of Treatment for General Therapy", I am honestly just going to say good read the book, it isn't that long and the weight of it is in gold with how much jam-packed it is with technique you would pick up from here or there. Go buy it, pirate it, I don't know just get it and see for yourself!

[dotthings]

Appointment in Samarra is a banger of an episode.

Let's talk about the fallacy of "Dean only cares about Sam he would let the whole world burn bleep blop bloop"--a fallacy often used by a certain standom faction.

Canon events:

Dean shows his self-sacrificial inclinations and he is doing it for Sam's sake, and lets himself be killed for 6 minutes so he can talk to Death, to get Sam's soul back, but the rest of the episode--and later episodes of the series--will show Sam isn't the only one Dean is willing to make sacrifices for, including the part where Dean temp kills himself to help the ghost of a child for one example, and is even more willing to go there because of his grief over Cas. Loss and grief often drives Dean. In S6, he is grieving Sam, because Sam's soul is gone

Dean's intent isn't to do this only for Sam, and he asks for both Sam's soul and Adam to be lifted from the cage

Death, who has had it up to here with Winchester shenanigans forces Dean to choose between the brother he's known his entire life and the half-brother he barely knows. It's not because Dean doesn't care about Adam, because Dean asked to save Adam not just Sam. There's nothing twisted or unhinged about Dean choosing Sam's soul, when Death plays hardball at him. But if the other person was someone Dean knows well and loves dearly...it isn't so simple. He also cares about people.

Death makes a deal with Dean to get Sam's soul back where Dean has to be Death for 24 hours and if Dean gives up, if he takes off the ring, he loses and the deal is off (This is one of my favorite Dean-focused episodes btw)

It starts out simple for Dean. A robber. An adult man having a heart attack enabled by his own junk food habits. Dean knows things aren't this simple but in this ep he's initially letting himself whistle past the graveyard that this will be a cakewalk...innocents don't die. Only crooks and people who don't take proper care of their bodies, right? The irony doesn't escape me that Dean himself is a junk food enthusiast himself. As is Death.

But it's not so simple. There's a 12 year old girl with a weak heart. Dean can't endure killing her and mis-uses some high-minded ideas about free will and defying fate to justify his refusal to do his job as Death in this one instance. The ripple effect causes the death of another innocent, the nurse who would have assisted in the little girl's surgery, but it was cancelled due to her miraculous recovery, the nurse heads home, and therefore winds up in a horrible car accident that takes her life, and she dies because the heart surgeon doesn't return to the hospital in time, because he went home as well due to the little girl's miraculous recovery

Dean then witnesses the grief of the husband of the nurse, raw and large and he identifies with it and his regrets are increasing

Dean then acts to save the husband, who in a drunk fit of grief, almost drives his car into a busload of people.

To save an entire busload of people and the grieving husband, Dean takes off the ring. He loses the bet. He willingly relinquishes that chance to save Sam's soul to save others.

He returns to the little girl to set things right, because if he doesn't, the ripple effect will follow her the rest of her life and people will keep dying because Dean as Death couldn't bear to kill her.

Meanwhile soulless Sam is off the chain, there's the confirmation he regards Sam as an other, and himself a separate being. He has to kill Bobby for the spell to protect him from having Sam's soul jammed back into him and attacks Bobby.

The reason Dean gets to the point where he realizes he'll have to kill soulless Sam is because soulless Sam tried to kill Bobby. (Note fallacy B, Dean doesn't really care about Cas because he's willing to kill Godstiel, when soulless Sam and Godstiel are parallel situations and Dean was ready to kill soulless Sam). You can see the exact moment where soulless Sam realizes Dean is ready to kill him, the realization from both of them.

Having put Dean through the wringer and gotten him to understand his ripple effect of his actions on the natural order, Death then decides to get Sam's soul back after all.

This is not due to the deal Dean made. Dean did not save Sam's soul. Death handed it over after Dean blew the deal. Death has his own agendas and wants Dean to be detective and look into what's going on with the souls. And maybe he does have a soft spot for Dean. Cosmic beings often seem to.

Canon is canon is canon is canon, Dean's love is not finite, Dean's heroism isn't limited, Dean never ever only cares about Sam, even in S2 when he was in a drunk griefrage yelling at Bobby, he was speaking from a place of deep hurt but he would never have actually let the world end for it, Dean's capacity to care is vast, and far far more than a certain fandom faction ever has the ability to comprehend and grasp. It's their loss entirely.

[hiding-in-my-blanket-fort]

I'm feeling in a feisty mood tonight so I'm foisting my sub Captain John Price x domme F!Reader headcanons on you. If that's not your jam, don't read below the cut!

Minors, away with you.

TW: NSFW. D/s elements, orgasm denial, light bondage, light impact play, unprotected PiV (wrap it up!).

Masterlist | Part Two

Listen. John carries a lot of responsibility on his broad shoulders and he really struggles to shut his brain off. He definitely doesn't show his submissive side to just anyone.

So, it's going to take a lot of time and a lot of trust before you gradually get him to open up and relax.

Having said that, John isn't opposed to being submissive. He's not accustomed to being in that position, but he's not averse to the idea. In fact, he likes the way your face lights up with confidence when you're the one in charge.

It's no secret that John is a big dude. Muscular. Strong as an ox. No matter your body type - slim, curvy, tall, short - he knows he COULD overpower you, but the fact that he's willing to surrender that power into your capable hands is a HUGE turn on for him (and you!)

You really made progress one day when you were in the bath and John came home from a mission, exhausted, bruised, and filthy. He took one look at the you - his love, the light of his life smiling so sweetly at him - and practically crumpled to his knees.

When you held out your arms, he stripped off his clothes as quickly as possible and melted into your embrace.

You washed the grime from his body, brushing sweet, soft kisses along his clean skin. As you wash his hair, massaging his scalp, he gives this deep, low sound of contentment in the back of his throat and slides deeper into the water, leaning against you.

With the slightest tug on his hair, you pull his head to the side and expose his neck, trailing kisses, tonguing at his pulse. With your other hand, you glide your palm down his chest, wrapping around his half-hard cock.

John is putty in your hands as you stroke him, his eyes closed, letting you lavish him with attention and pleasure. Under normal circumstances, he would have had you pressed up against the wall, his cock buried inside you within minutes.

But this time, you hold him, sucking at the thin skin of his neck, murmuring softly in his ear how happy you are to have him home, how strong he is for you, what a good man he is and he deserves this.

After that, something new seems to open up between the two of you.

When you're getting ready for bed, John has a book paperwork spread across his lap, a frown beginning to form between his eyebrows. You know that look - concentration and the burden of duty weighing down his mind.

So you forego putting on your pajamas and you push the paperwork aside. When John tries to protest, you silence him with a kiss and straddle him. He chuckles mingled with a small noise of surprise when you pin his wrists above his head.

"Is that the way we're going to play tonight, love?"

"You'll have to find out, Captain."

When he hooks an arm around your waist and sits up - his go-to move to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress - you push him back down with a hand on his chest.

"No. Stay."

His eyebrows shoot up but oh...the look in his eyes.

Lust. Hot, blazing, molten lava levels of lust.

"That sounds like an order, sweetheart," he replies, his hands skimming up your legs, curving over your hips.

You take his hands by the wrists again and slowly, pointedly, pin them above his head again, holding his gaze the whole time.

"It is," you counter. "You better obey. I wouldn't want you to be...punished...for disobeying orders."

He breathes a faint laugh and flexes his arms a few inches off the mattress - just to remind you that even though you have him pinned, it doesn't mean a damn thing. He could easily turn the tables on you if he wanted to.

But what he wants is to see you like this.

Confident. Bold. Sexy. Telling him what to do and taking your pleasure from him that he is so willing to give.

You grasp John's chin and look into his eyes.

"Are you going to be good for me?" you whisper.

John's hands tighten into fists. Just for a moment. Then you see the shift that comes over him as he very slowly relaxes into the mattress. After what feels like the longest moment on planet earth, he gives the slightest nod.

You beam at him. "Excellent choice, Captain."

After using one of his ties to bind his wrists to the headboard, you proceed to kiss down his body, paying extra attention to places where he sucks in a breath or shifts - a dead giveaway that he's ticklish, or particularly sensitive in that area.

By the time you're at his hips, his sweatpants are tented from his cock. His chest is heaving, his eyes lidded as he gazes down at you. While you hook your fingers into the waistband of his pants, you look up at him, watching the way his breath hitches and his lips part.

Lowering his sweatpants, you give a pleased little smile and bite your lip.

"Look at you, Captain. So eager and leaking for me but I haven't even touched you yet."

With your gaze on his, you lower the tip of your tongue to the head of his cock. As soon as you make contact, John's entire body tenses. The tie strains at his wrists. He arches his hips upward, trying desperately to get more friction from your mouth.

You laugh so sweetly at him and pull your tongue away.

"Sit still. No squirming. If you don't behave, no orgasms for you tonight."

John groans and tilts his head back with a muttered fuck very softly under his breath.

When you tongue his cock again, it takes EVERY ounce of his strength for John to sit still like you told him to. The way his breathing grows shallow suggests he's having a difficult time not giving the orders around here.

You tease him with your mouth, your fingers, your tongue, your teeth until a thin sheen of sweat covers his body.

That crease between his eyebrows, laden with duty and responsibility, is definitely gone now. The tendons in his neck are straining though and judging by the muscles bulging in his arms, you're honestly surprised the headboard is still in tact.

You scrape your teeth over John's hip until he flinches with a small strangled what the fuck?

"I think you deserve your reward now, don't you?"

John opens his mouth to reply but only a puff of air comes out. You rise up on your knees, hovering over him, lining his cock up at your entrance.

His gaze is locked on that space between your thighs where his cock is an inch away from touching. He can feel the heat radiating from your body but goddamn it, you're not moving and it's driving him crazy.

"Honey," he just barely manages to rasp with frustration.

"Come on, John. You're a gentleman, aren't you? And a gentleman always asks permission before he fucks a lady."

"Jesus," he croaks, shifting his gaze toward the ceiling.

You're enjoying this...far too much. You've never seen John quite like this - strung out and straining and barely capable of putting together a coherent sentence.

You swipe the tip of his cock through your folds.

John just about loses his damn mind. His whole body clenches.

"Say the word and I'm yours," you croon sweetly, as if you haven't absolutely wrecked John with your teasing for the past forty minutes.

He lets out a choked laugh of disbelief because you are usually the one who's begging in bed with him. Not the other way around.

So, just to remind him who's in charge, you slot his cock just inside your entrance. If he tries to thrust up into you, all you do is shift away and he can't get inside. It's maddening.

Then... "Love...please..." he says through gritted teeth.

You smile and touch his cheek, dragging your thumb over his lips. And you sink down, oh so slowly, onto his length.

The guttural sound he makes is deep and gravelly and my god, you've never heard anything sound so good in your life.

See part two for more!

[musette22]

I wonder if Steve has a significant amount of imposter syndrome, especially when he came out of the ice. People had solidified this idea of him and expected him to excel and be that, hell even his teammates were just like oh I know all about you. (Expect maybe Thor, who I think was one of Steve’s closest friends in the beginning)

He can’t escape these expectations and if he goes against it, he’s berated for it. It’s made even worse with the serum, but at least with that he had the howling commandos to ground him and encouraged him. In the 21st Century there was no one to bounce of and the fact it would have been made worse by his survivors guilt.

Idk Steve is a character that has so many layers but gets over looked because he isnt allowed to fall into a vulnerable headspace. I kinda wished we saw more of that in his character, not in like a reflective sort of way but a kinda overwhelmed by everything portrayal. I’m sorry if this doesn’t make any sense.

Oh absolutely, yes! I think you're completely right. I also think Steve struggles hugely with the expectations people have of him, the dichotomy between the persona & legend of Cap versus the real Steve Rogers. He had to get used to a whole new body first, and then on top of that, he also had to learn to deal with all those expectations and the idea(l) people have of him which he doesn't even recognise himself in, half the time. He doesn't feel worthy of all the attention and hero worship, constantly thinking that if only people knew the real him, they'd be sorely disappointed. At the same time though, I think he feels like the whole celebrity aspect of being Cap is empty and meaningless anyway, most of the time (except for when he can use his fame to do something good, of course, which he tries to do as much as he can because otherwise, what's the point?), so in a way I think he doesn't even want to live up to people's expectations of him. He is also known for his stubbornness and righteousness, after all 😉

And yeah, in the 21st century, there isn't anyone left who knows the real him, who can grab his shoulders and shake them and tell him that it's the real Steve Rogers, that little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb to run away from a fight, who makes Cap great, that he is worth knowing and loving. That his ideas may be reckless and harebrained more often than not, but that he does what he does for the right reasons, because he is a good man first and foremost, even if others can only see a perfect soldier. He must've felt so enormously alienated and lost, those first few years 😔

While I love the idea that (most of) the Avengers would've ultimately come to understand and appreciate Steve for Steve too, the way things stood at the beginning of TWS, they definitely weren't there yet (thank god for Sam, who at least tried). Which is why I adore the kind of fics in which Bucky, after he comes back, is not only cared for and helped to get back to himself by Steve, but in which he also gets to care for and help Steve to get back to himself in return ❤️ Mutual healing, that's my jam 💫

And yes, Steve Rogers is actually a huuuugely layered and complex and interesting and underrated character, and I will die on that hill!!! The MCU unfortunately did not explore any of this nearly enough (in fact, they cut some of the scenes that would've been the most telling when it came to the state of mind he was in) and they massively oversimplified his character development for the sake of action/tony/heteronormativity/etc. I'll always wish we'd have gotten to see more of Steve's motivations and character in the movies, but I'll also always be grateful that fanfiction has given us what the MCU didn't dare, and a thousand times over too! ❤️