#I wrote this to cope

[meraki-yao]

RWRB Movie Analysis + Feelings: The King, and Parental Love

Okay heads up, this is gonna be an amalgam of a meta/analysis, and my own feelings and experience/me venting, because I’m going through some things right now in my life and this is how I cope.

So in the book, the “final boss” on Alex's side is Richards. In the movie, I would say it’s more the action of being outed than Miguel himself, but yeah. The former is politically driven to screw things up while the latter is career-driven. To understand this change please read this essay.

Henry’s “final boss” is his Grandmother Queen Mary in the book, and his Grandfather King James in the movie. These two are in a similar position: the head of the monarchy and of the family, both trying to make Henry hide the truth. On first glance it might feel like they simply gender-bent the Queen for the movie for the sake of distancing the movie from the actual royal family, which, fair.

(Tangent: Also the fact that Stephen Fry is not only a gay icon in the UK but also a good friend of King Charles, yet he took this role without hesitation, I applaud you Sir)

But as I watched the Buckingham confrontation more, I noticed something.

And I noticed this because I’m familiar with it, in fact I’m living with it.

Either way, both the Queen and the King wanted Henry to hide his sexuality. That is forcing him into the closet, especially the way the Queen still brings up finding a wife in the book and Alex is right there, it’s forcing him into the closet for his entire life. That, is awful.

But there’s a difference.

In the book, Queen Mary doesn’t care about Henry. She berates Henry for damaging the crown’s image. She only mentions things from his perspective and says she’s only “protecting” him when she’s trying to convince Henry once she realizes that he’s not going to budge. She barely acknowledges Alex. Even till the end, she never really gave in: Princess Catherine gave her an ultimatum, and because she still wants to be in power, she extremely begrudgingly, agreed to Catherine’s terms. Not Henry, Catherine’s. It just so happens that Catherine’s terms are supporting Henry. On top of that, Catherine mentions feeling awful because of Mary (Quote: “And I swear on my life, and Arthur’s. I will take you off the throne before I will let them feel the things you made me feel”), so it’s clear that this is generational. Queen Mary is arrogant, power-hungry, and uncaring for her children and grandchildren. All she sees is the crown. She does not love Henry.

Okay, now look at the movie.

In the movie, King James says he’s protecting Henry at the start of the conversation. He admits that Alex and Henry’s love is genuine. He says the nation will not accept a prince who is homosexual. Which is still bullshit, but look at it. He’s speaking about Henry. This is about Henry. This isn’t about the crown as a whole, this is about Henry being shunned. About Henry facing scrutiny. He even says no one is saying Henry doesn’t deserve to be happy, and the implication there is that he thinks Henry will be unhappy if he comes out. In the end, he didn’t stop Henry from going onto the balcony when, as terrible as it would be, he could have. He just asked if Henry was sure because there is no turning back. He stepped back from the situation, and with a warning, let Henry decide for himself.

So here’s the thing.

There’s a type of parents, that truly do love their child and want them to be happy. But it comes out wrong and hurtful, because they want what they think is the best for their kid, without considering what their kid actually wants. They stick with the world and mindset they grew up with, and enforce that on their child, without acknowledging that after decades, the world the child lives in, and the world they lived in at that age, are extremely different. They want their kids to get the things that make the parents happy, but they don’t realize that the same thing might not make the child happy, maybe even make the kid feel worse. This is a different type of pain than straight-up abuse and neglect. (Please note that I am absolutely not saying that this type of pain is more than abuse/neglect. Abuse/neglect is still extremely fucking awful. But pain isn’t something that should be compared.)

And I say this, because my parents belong to this category. And it took me 18 years to realize that they can truly love me, and hurt me at the same time, and it’s not actually my fault that I feel bad about myself, it’s theirs.

Here’s the personal part. Please bear with me. (If you’re not interested, or find family issues or devaluing of mental health issues potentially triggering, please skip to *****)

My parents are older for my cohort, come from an extremely traditional and conservative society, and immigrated to my city during the 90s. I’m Gen Z. So our generation gap and cultural gap ended up being pretty fucking wide. I’m a very emotional, artsy person while my parents are pragmatic and hold traditional ideas very strictly. So what happens is that they don’t value the things I want to and like to do, because it doesn’t fit the perspective they grew up with and ended up being stuck with. I’ll state two examples from the clusterfuck that is my life.

Last night when I tried to subtly explain my recent struggles to my mom, she straight up said emotional people are egotistical and tend to end up mentally ill by their own doing. I excused myself and locked myself in my room to sob for ten minutes because whether or not she realised it, she was also talking about me, and holy fuck it hurt. What she said is fucked up, but the problem is I know why she thinks this way: a combination of her personality, personal experience, society and environment resulted in this perception being the only way she has ever viewed emotional people, and she just… never changed. Maybe if she heard more narratives or stories about “emotional people” she might change her mind, but right now the only exception is her daughter, who she can easily pass off as “not trying hard enough”.

My personal choices for university were between psychology, science & arts, and sociology, but on the day of finalizing my university choices, my parents spent hours telling me, in both shouting matches, and gently convincing in the same tone the king tries to persuade Henry with, about how those degrees aren’t useful, and I won’t get a job, and they need me to support myself by 25. Under pressure, borderline hysteria and non-stop crying from said pressure, and the knowledge that 1, I can’t convince them at this stage 2, I’m running out of time 3, they’re paying for my tuition, I caved in. I am now stuck with a degree I hate and feel like I have no motivation to live every fucking day. I meant it when I said RWRB is like, my only light in life right now. I’m literally writing this to avoid schoolwork. I’m also not saying my parents’ concerns aren’t valid, they are, that being said it took me so long to realize that it is not normal for me to feel so shit about myself and my life every fucking day, and that we didn’t even come to a compromise, because based on what their society taught them, they think they’re in the absolute right, and I’m being naïve, and they ended up forcing me into this. I refuse to say this was my choice. It wasn’t. It’s theirs.  

*****

Movies, books and shows are my escapism. I find comfort in stories, and even more so when I see characters who I can relate to, who are in same way, starting at a point where I am.  

When I read the book, I fell in love with both of the boys. But between them, I related more to Henry: a family who doesn’t understand us, with the sole exception being our sister, having out-dated traditional ideas enforced on us, and having parts of us being invalidated. Granted Henry’s core issue being his sexuality and my core issue being my personality and interest makes the whole issue still different, but there are bits and pieces that are similar, and I find comfort in that.

But then I watched the movie, and for some reason it hit harder. I found myself relating more to Movie Henry than Book Henry (again, I love them both, one’s not better than the other, they are different, and both precious). And I ended up clocking it on the King.

The king didn’t come across to me as cold and uncaring the way the Queen in the book did. He came across to me as someone who genuinely loves Henry, but failed to understand how Henry wanted and needed to be loved, and failed to see how the perception and opinions of the younger generation have changed. Let’s be honest, having a heterosexual prince isn’t a requirement the way the King and subsequently Henry viewed it, it’s just an expectation because that’s how the royal family’s image in the past was: either you’re straight, or you’re queer and hidden. The King was stuck with that expectation while ignoring the growing acceptance of the LGBT+ community among the people, even for prominent figures, because that wasn’t the society that he was raised in, and therefore stuck with. The king meant it when he said he wanted to protect Henry, and he didn’t support Henry because he believed that Henry was naïve or not looking at the bigger picture when he wanted to come clean about his relationship and that doing so would be Henry’s detriment. I have heard that used on me too many times.

The king loves Henry the way my parents love me: genuine, but ultimately hurtful.

And in all honesty, I think that might be a more relatable/humanizing characterization for this type of family member.

With this in mind, I do believe that perhaps when Henry was younger, when he was a boy, he had good memories with his grandfather the way I still do make good memories with my family despite all the conflict, that once upon a time the King wasn’t the king to Henry, but just Grandpa who would let him sit on his lap and read stories to him. I can’t see the Queen from the book doing that at all.

(There’s also this incredible fic imagining King James “protecting” Henry because he too is gay, but lost his love during a far more unforgiving and cruel period of time, thus fearing for Henry, It’s absolutely magnificent, please go check it out: AO3 link)

I know I said I’m on the fence about getting a sequel (although if we do get one of course I’m watching it regardless), but this feels like something, granted unique to the movie, that would be interesting to explore. Somewhat like the conclusion of Disney’s Encanto, where the older generation needs to realize that their way of thinking is outdated and hurtful and that they need to listen to what the younger ones have to say. (the younger ones aren’t always right, but they need to at the very least, be heard and respected)

The King in the movie does truly love Henry, and that, allows space for forgiveness and reconciliation, and a chance for him to learn to love his grandson in the right way. It would be nice to see that.

[explore-my-subconscious]

Im angry. Why won't you accept me as I am. Why do you feel the need to change me in order to accept my love. That's not how it's meant to go. You're supposed to love me for who I am now, not for who I could be in an ideal world. That's the point. The point is that I'm not perfect, that I've got demons. Maybe I'm not a good person as you see it. But you've called me "good" over and over. Was it all a lie? Wishful thinking on your part? Did you want to take me and mould me, shape me in your image? All these years, I thought we were friends. I don't want to be made again, I've made my peace with it years ago. You only met the old me once, did I leave a better impression as a good stranger than a slightly evil friend? You used to delight in my simple wickedness and disguised humanity. I don't want to be reverted to what I used to be. Maybe I'm bad, but I've grown and developed. I've learnt to think and feel for myself, not because someone told me it was gods design. But I see you've made your choice, just like I made mine all those years ago. Goodbye, my angel, I'll leave you be. Good luck and may you never regret your choice.

Im sorry my dear. Im so so sorry. Im doing this for us, I'm making it all better. Don't you see? You could be whole again, like you were before. Of course I love you now, I always have. But I know how much it hurt you, I was there. We weren't quite friends yet but you were always around. I was in the periphery but I noticed. Of course I did. I've never been able to look away from you, you are so beautiful. My dear, I never meant to break your heart, please come back. Im doing this so we don't have to sneak around anymore. I can have the power to ensure you can never get taken away from me, so that it's us against everything just like it's always been. I've seen you, I've seen how you rebel against the evil you've been forced into. I know you're good, but this way everyone will be able to see how good you are. They will all be able to see you as I have, beautiful and glorious and good. Please, I'm sorry but i promise I'll be back and I'll make it up to you. Please wait for me. I love you, my dear

[andiwriteordie]

Summary: 

“I think you’ve got it wrong,” Mike repeats, standing and walking over to his desk. He picks up Will’s rolled up painting of the party and takes a seat next to his best friend. “My coat of arms there… the heart. You said that I’m the heart of the party, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Will says slowly. “Why?”

“But I’m not,” Mike says softly. “I mean… the other stuff you said… about me helping to lead the party… and trying to inspire them… I guess that stuff is maybe true, but I… I don’t think I’m the heart, Will.”

Or, the one in which Mike and Will have (another) heart-to-heart after returning to Hawkins.

hi, so i’m running on 3 hours of sleep, unbridled rage, and bad, bad mental health vibes! so here’s me trying to dive more into mike’s pov during/after s4 and attempt to make up for his shitty behavior. 

like i said, i’ve had very little sleep, so this may suck or make no sense. BUT i can rest easy knowing it will never be as bad as actual canon s4 mike wheeler!

[onioneyez]

He's very easily peer pressured

(Edit: I meant by the goats)

Prints!

[isitthemoon]

"So if my love is not enough

And I forget it all instead

Say that you'll try to keep it in your mind

So it never breaks, so it never fades

Write it in the stars, write it in your heart

Forever mine, forever yours

So no matter what goes, promise me so:

Please, remember, please, don't let me go"

- a small piece/poem about my fear of forgetting.

[deadsetobsessions]

Bruce didn’t come here often. Perhaps that was terrible of him but he couldn’t bear to visit his son’s resting place. It was difficult to equate his high-spirited son, bright as the sun itself and endlessly brilliant despite the more he grew up in, to the cold and lifeless stone engraved with his name and words that did not encompass everything his son was to him.

His hands were full of flowers, Jason’s favorite books, a round rock, and his son’s favorite foods.

Bruce didn’t come here often, because it broke his heart even more when he did, but today was a day that love and grief triumphed over his need to avoid.

He walked down the winding pathway, Alfred a silent sentinel behind him. He hated it, but he understood. Today was the only day Alfred allowed himself to be emotionally closed off. He’d lost a grandson.

Bruce didn’t come here often, but his son’s birthday was a day Bruce would remember how to love and live again, just for Jason.

“I will be over here, Master Bruce.” Alfred stopped at his designated spot, where Bruce had added a bench and a draping tree to shade Alfred as he stood vigil.

The first time they’d- it was April, and the sun- after the funeral, Bruce was lost in the throes of grief and had kneeled over the freshly tilled dirt for hours. Alfred had stood there, in that same spot, in the city’s rare blazing sun until Bruce came back to himself.

Bruce had almost lost his second father that day, and what good was wealth if it could not prevent that? And so, water, shade, a bench, and a space heater was added.

Bruce knows better than anyone how stubborn Alfred can be, when it comes to matters of the heart. After all, he didn’t have to raise Bruce after Martha and Thomas died.

“Alright, Alfred.”

Bruce splits from the haggard butler with pointed looks at the water bottles he’d prepared for today for Alfred (who manages, this time, a faint but amused raise of an eyebrow) and walks towards Jason Todd’s grave.

Here where his son is buried, the grass is kept green. In April, Forget-Me-Nots bloomed and dotted the place where Bruce’s world collapsed with bright colors. In August, it is still green, but the tin engraved with the names of the deceased stood out without the flowers.

Bruce kneeled and quietly arranged the flowers before placing them in the tin. He set the platters of food down and uncovered them. The scent of chili dogs made his heart stutter, flashes of a bright smile and book references blinding Bruce with their nostalgia.

He swallowed, grief building, and placed the stone he’d brought atop the gravestone. He sat back, gripping Jason’s book with white knuckles.

Bruce didn’t turn around when clothing rustled behind him. Alfred would have verbally cut down anyone that dared to approach them today, especially here. That he didn’t do so was telling of who it would be.

“I’m still mad at you, for not telling me as soon as you knew.” Dick Grayson sat down, hand over one of Jason’s school bag pins he had carefully attached to the front of his jacket.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“He deserved better. I should have been there.” Dick whispered, placing another bundle of flowers into the tin. It fit, but barely. “I would have dropped everything to come find him. Even if it wasn’t on time, even if it wasn’t enough, I deserved to be there when he was buried. We were family.”

“I know.” Bruce repeated, no less regretful. In his grief, he had wronged his loved ones. “I’m sorry.”

Dick casted a quiet, assessing eye at him. Bruce stayed quiet.

“It’s too dreary,” Dick said. He took out paints, little statutes of robins, bright birds, and bits and bobs Bruce knew Jason would have loved had he been alive out of his pockets.

“It should be more colorful,” Dick murmured as he placed them artfully against the headstone.

They sat there, for a while. Dick glanced at… at Bruce’s hand, and settled down.

It’d been a while since they’ve spoken, but he knew what the man intentioned to do today. This will be the most Dick will have heard Bruce speak outside of his civilian obligations.

Bruce took the cue and gently opened Jason’s book. He’d bought it for Jason- the first gift- and he’d read it to Jason every night. Dick had a similar book.

“Call me Ishmael. Some years ago- never mind how long precisely- having little or no money in my purse…”

——

A boy with black hair and blue eyes wandered amongst the graveyard. They’ve been here for a while, and the man’s low rumble was soothing to listen to. The shades that hung about the graveyard settled as he read out loud from the book as his son sat quietly beside him.

As the boy, invisible and intangible, brushed his hand against the gravestone, he wondered why they were reading to an empty grave.

——

Dick had left long before Bruce did.

And when it was time to go, as stars began to climb and as the cold began to nip at his fingers, Bruce heard a quiet voice.

“Do not stand at his grave and weep,” and Bruce turned, recognizing the poem. “He is not there. He does not sleep.”

But there was no-one.

[oh-snapperss]

creature comfort

“We won’t win today,” Cleo says, and Etho knows she’s right. Knows their time has been running out since the first secret was whispered to them in voices all too familiar, has known that this day was coming, has known that all this time, it’s not been a question of if–it’s been a question of when. 

They’re going to die today. Distantly, Etho wonders if the domesticity they’ve worked for will die with them, or if it will follow them back home. 

Will his home ever be a physical place again? Home is where the hearth is, where the warmth is, where the world is shut out and it’s just the three of them. 

Home is where Cleo is. 

“That’s alright,” Etho smiles instead of voicing all of that, wishing, of all things, that he didn’t still have that awful cough that Cleo had insisted he rest over for a few days. “We’ll be alright.” 

They’ll be dead–and what are the dead, if not alright? The dead don’t have coughs, or pain, or fear. They’re just dead. Etho thinks he might not mind it so much, this time. He’s finally learned to spend his time wisely, and he’s built a home no flaming arrow could ever take down. 

Just by the cow pen, there’s a stupid little porch Etho had built a while back. They’re nowhere near it now, but every night he and Cleo had watched the sunset, drank a final cup of tea, and turned in to sleep over gossip and giggles only they could draw from each other this time ‘round. Before, Bdubs had made him laugh like that–now, Etho wonders how long before there’s a sword at his throat. 

Even so, while Cleo laughs and watches him set Scar’s porch on fire, Etho hopes he might have the privilege of watching the sunset from the porch one last time. He’d survive the day, if only for another sunset with Cleo. 

BANG. 

Tango’s gone–Etho knows it in his heart. Surely he should feel an ache for him, should ask how he went. Instead, it’s easy to accept it. 

The wardens are fun. That’s all they are, now. Before, they had been terrors, then the answer to a desperate prayer he and Grian had made. The carnage of those terrifying beasts feel muted compared to before, but with the wind flying through his hair, the elated cries of Cleo in front of him, Etho can’t care. Not this time. They lead two clear to the middle of the server before they’ve decided to finish having their fun, and Cleo’s just stepping up some rocks when she says it. 

“You’re my favorite, you know that? You’ve always been my favorite.” 

He does know, he does know now. He’d guessed it that first sunset, when Cleo sat down with a giddy smile to recount their day. He’d thought it, when she’d wrapped a blanket around his shoulders after his failures and rested her head on his shoulder without a word. He’d lived it, when she had shouted that she would kill him if he tried to kill her–but was reassured otherwise that night on the porch again, with the curse ebbing from his bones. 

Today, he knows it in the blatant rebellion against what’s supposed to be the end, the dread, the fear. 

“You’re mine too.” Etho grins back, and knows that they’ll see his smile even through the mask–knows they’ve come to recognize it in his tone and way his eyebrows scrunch together. . 

They wind up in the sky base with Grian–Grian, who hasn’t quite reached the same conclusion they have. Etho knows by the shadows under his eyes he won’t give up, that he’ll fight clear to the end. Once upon a season, Etho had been the same. 

Not this time. Never this time. 

Around ten minutes to sunset, Etho and Cleo set down their dripstone and bows, and sit on the edge of the cobblestone wall. 

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it back to our base for it this time,” Etho jokes, nudging his shoulder into Cleo’s. Cleo laughs, a carefree thing, and wrinkles her nose. 

“I don’t think we’re gonna make it back for it any time, if we’re being honest.” She leans back, one hand half behind her to support her weight. 

“I know,” Etho says. He brings his leg up to his chest, wrapping his arms around it. Behind them, cobblestone is placed–Grian, ever the survivor. “It was nice, though.” 

“It was nice!” Cleo beams. “Are you alright with this?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Etho hums. “‘s not so bad. Dying with a friend.” 

“It won’t be,” Cleo agrees. 

Because that’s just it, isn’t it? Etho’s never died like this–he’s died at the flames of an arrow shot while protecting his king, he’s died in fights after his allies were killed. Hell, he’s died hand in hand with a soulmate hellbent on killing him now–but he’d been in a frenzy then, a rage-induced thing meant to burn up the place that had never been a true home to them. 

He thinks he won’t mind dying with someone. 

The sun sets in brilliant hues of orange and pink, and they sit together, this final tradition not lost in the face of inevitability. Just as the first star twinkles, Grian comes over, hoisting them back to their feet. 

“They’re coming,” he says. 

It’s time. 

They shoot a few arrows, break some dripstone, all to no avail–but that’s alright, he’s got Cleo, and they’ve got him. 

But oh, the games are never kind, are they? Etho slips, his foot landing weird somehow–and he’s whistling through the air towards the ground at a speed too fast. It knocks the breath from his lungs when he lands–does he hit the clutch? Stars, he doesn’t actually know, because there’s arrows shot at him, shouts of glee from the hunters, and suddenly Etho’s not Etho, he’s just prey–and prey only know to do one thing. 

Run. 

Etho flies forward, dragging his sword out. There’s not many safe spaces left on the server–stars, Grian had even mentioned their base was but a crater in the hill. 

But the porch… the porch was intact. Supposedly. 

He enderpearls, and enderpearls again, and it’s still not enough. The screams behind him are closer, and closer, and then further–and oh, Etho knows it’s time. He’s dead, he’s gone, he’ll be but a wisp of the wind in a few minutes whether he likes it or not. 

And he won’t die by Cleo. 

Cleo, Cleo, Cleo. Oh, he’d not meant it to be like this. He’d meant to die with a smile, right by her side–just as they were meant to die by his. This wasn’t the plan, this wasn’t the plan. A sob claws its way up his throat, the beginnings of the blind panic he’d never meant to feel tonight. He’s going to die, alone, without the comfort of his Cleo. 

Home. He wants to go home. 

Home is in the air, a hundred blocks above him. He’ll never make it–but he can make it back to the porch, the one place of peace. Now, he can feel the twinge of something broken in his ankles, probably from the fall–and the cuts, the bruises, the blood scent thick in his nose. He’s so tired. 

He wants to die at home, he wants to die at home. 

“Oh, he sounds like a wounded animal… let’s put him out of his misery.” A voice said. Cold fear grips Etho’s heart, and he stumbles forward–the porch is in sight!

Let him die at home. Let him die at home. 

A shadow fills his vision, and Etho’s not even had time to lift his shield before blinding pain fills his stomach, and it’s over. 

He’s not allowed that creature comfort of dying at home. 

[surreal-duck]

tin soldier and a disastrous doll

[hajimedics]

welcome home persona AU, aka mostly an excuse for me to draw my human designs in classy children’s fairytale-inspired outfits

[xdacted]

not here

Pairing: Reader x Carlos Sainz Jr.

Warnings: pure 100% fluff, nothing but fluff, the tiniest hint of angst, but mostly fluff

Word Count: 500

Status: Completed

Carlos didn’t get to see her as often as he wanted. 

He didn’t even get to see her as often as he needed. There was always something pulling him away. Always a phone call to be taken, an autograph to be signed, an interview to be helped - always something. 

But not now. 

Not here. 

Not in the quiet hours of the morning, just before daybreak, the sun resting below the horizon. The moon cast pure light through the windows, moonbeams dancing across their sheets, stars twinkling beside them. Her arms curled around a pillow, legs tangled together. He didn’t know where he began and she ended, but he liked it that way. The lingering night breeze brushed against his bare skin, sweeping through the windows. The world outside fluttered awake, but Carlos had her here. 

Pressed to her back, arms tucked around her waist, buried in the thicket of her hair. Carlos couldn’t see her face, but he had memorized it. Each shadow, each line, each curve - each beautiful feature was committed to memory. The soft sound of her snores filled their room, her heartbeat steady against his skin. 

Not a thing could reach them here. 

He liked it that way. 

Carlos leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to the exposed skin of her shoulder, “Hermosa.”

His voice was too quiet to wake her, but he liked to see her nose twitch at the sound. 

Beautiful. 

Moments like these, where the world seemed to still for just a second, made the distance agonizing. Separated by oceans, miles of land, hours of the day - it was painful. Race weekends were filled with exhilaration and adrenaline. Race weekends were also filled with a clawing sense of breathlessness. 

He couldn’t breathe. 

But here, laying beside her without a care in the world, he breathed. 

Carlos breathed. 

Inhaling the scent of her shampoo and the dying hints of her perfume, she filled his lungs.

He breathed. 

She turned in his arms with a heavy sigh, burrowing into his chest. Carlos couldn’t help but smile, tightening his arms around her. 

He didn’t see her as often as he wanted, but she was here now. 

Behind him, the sun began to rise, warmth trailing up his back. Soft rays crawled up the sky, spilling across her skin, and coiling in her hair. Carlos leaned down, pressing another kiss to her cheek and neck. She groaned, scrunching her eyebrows together. 

A gentle laugh rumbled from his chest, dropping another kiss to her nose, “Hermosa…”

“...stop watching me sleep…”

Her voice was scratchy and unused, the corner of her lip quirked to reveal the smallest hint of a smile. 

“But you’re so beautiful,” He whispered, nuzzling into her neck, “How can I help myself?”

A giggle fell from her lips like wind chimes singing together - beautiful. 

“It’s creepy,” She stretched, arms winding around his neck, “Better only be for me.”

“Of course,” He said, “No one but you.”

After all, not a thing could reach them. 

Not here. 

_____________________

A/N:This work has been cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. All are under the name XDACTED. Thank you for reading and feel free to request fics about any of the drivers <3

Also this is my attempt at trying to get out of my writing slump, it's short, it's sweet. I like it, so pls enjoy

[mcondance]

cw creampie, period sex, bad ending

sighs… creampies from hobie.. thick loads of white cum… hobie breeding you deep as he can, cause he knows that’s rlly all you want right now. fucking his cum deep into you, fat tip leaking white against your cervix, your sore thighs pressed up against his heated chest, legs thrown over his shoulders, your hands thrown around his neck. his hand caressing your hair as he makes sure to rut against you, makes sure you feel every drag of his cock against your sensitive walls, makes sure you feel the base of him slide against your achy entrance, makes sure he ruts his hips against your achy vulva, your lower bodies a mess of cum and blood.

“i know, love, i know. i’ll make it feel better, swear.” and he does, grinding his dick into you until all you feel is white hot pleasure, pulses of ecstasy streaming through you. hands moving from your hair, he swipes his thumb over your puffy clit, pushing his hips into you firm and deep, coasting you into another orgasm that you hit with a gritted moan, head thrown back into the pillows, shaking and trembling in his grasp.

“cum in me, please hobie, i need it.” you almost cry, pulling him closer like he’s not already on top of you, like he hasn’t already filled you up once. he lets you, nodding against your lips, seating himself as deep as he can. slurring, “i got you baby,” he cums pressed against your cervix, fulfilling everything you needed from him. he kisses you as you both come down, lowering your legs to the side of him, gentle lips moving softly against yours.

[reverbtunes]

worm tales with skz

➤ summary : “would you love me if i was a worm?”

➤ pairing : skz x gn!reader

➤ genre : literally just crack pls and fluff bc channie manages to make everything perfect

➤ warnings : slight mentions of food, lots of mentions of worms, seungmin’s reader likes worms

➤ a/n : why not? also go check out @portalhan​ ‘s version of this ! their imagines were really fun to read sjdksj <3 lowercase intended !

➤ masterlist !

bang chan !

“would you love me if i was a worm?”

“yeah.”

needless to say, you were both shocked and heartwarmed at the way your boyfriend answered your question without the slightest hesitation. at first, you thought he hadn’t heard you properly, since he was on his laptop, working; so you decided to repeat yourself.

“babe, you’d love me if i was a worm?”

chuckling, chan calmly replied, “i heard you the first time, love. yes, i would.”

looking up at your jaw wide open, he gave you a bright smile and said, “i’d love you no matter what you were, thought you’d know that by now.”

shaking off your surprise, with glee filled eyes, you scooted closer to him on the couch.

“what if i was a pair of wet socks? you’d still love me?” you asked him cheekily.

grimacing, channie lightly replied, “i’d hang you out to dry and then proceed to love you.”

‘he’s the one,’ you thought with a smile on your face as you contentedly lay your head against his arm.

lee know !

“minho?” you called out for your boyfriend, earning a hum in response. you walked into the living room and saw him watching a new movie that had come out the last week.

“would you love me if i was a worm?”

blinking a few times, minho stared at you blankly. two seconds later, he bluntly replied, “no.”

“what?” you asked, placing a hand on your chest, “i thought you said you love me unconditionally??”

“yeah, well the conditions included you being a human, darling. or a cat, at most.”

“if you’d love me if i was a cat, what’s wrong with worms?”

“everything??” he asked. as if it was obvious, “now hush and let me watch my movie.”

he lifted one of his arms as you flopped beside him, huffing at his answer to your question. but, as you felt his arm gently wrap around your shoulder, you thought that maybe you were happy he loved you as a human.

changbin !

“baby~” 

you softly smiled as you heard changbin calling. “yes~?”

he walked into the kitchen, and on seeing you making dinner, walked up to you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“would you still love me if i was a worm?” 

you burst out laughing at his question, and then genuinely considered it for a second.

“hey! it’s a serious question,” he said, lightly sulking with his head on your shoulder.

“i know, i know! and my answer is.... yes-”

“really?!” your boyfriend interrupted, spinning you around with such excitement in his eyes.

nodding, you answered, booping him on the nose, “uh huh! i mean, you’re already a dwaekki, it’d be wrong if i didn’t love you as a worm.”

rolling his eyes, changbin let go of you and, leaning on the counter, he replied, “no matter the reason, you’d still love me~ and no take backs!”

you held out your pinky, lightly giggling, “no take backs, i promise.”

interlocking pinkies and standing in the kitchen as you were, you knew you wouldn’t give this up for the world.

hyunjin !

as soon as he heard the jingle of your keys, hyunjin sprang up to ask the question of the day.

you stepped inside and were about to announce that you were home, expecting hyunjin to be in your room, but were surprised to see he was already waiting at the door for you.

“would you love me if i was a worm?” your boyfriend asked excitedly.

mentally laughing at his antics, you pretended to think for a moment, and then abruptly said, “lie down on the floor.”

“huh?”

“lie down on the floor, on your stomach!”

“but wh-”

“just do it, will you?” you pleaded, eventually convincing him because who could say no to that face?

hyunjin reluctantly did as you said, and then lifted his head slightly to look you in eye with the most bewildered look he could muster.

“alright! now wiggle.”

“what???”

“c’mon, wiggle around!”

deciding to humour you, hyunjin started to wiggle, twisting and turning his torso and slightly pushing ahead with his legs.

you were practically in stitches by the time he stopped, clutching your stomach with tears coming out of your eyes. once you calmed down, you slowly kneeled down and kissed hyunjin on the forehead, and whispered, 

“i would adore you if you were a worm.”

han !

“my love, my darling, treasure of my life?”

jokingly rolling your eyes at your boyfriend’s nicknames, you look at him inquisitively.

“would you love me if i was a worm?”

“would i what??”

jisung repeated his question slowly, looking at you expectedly and hoping a good answer.

“what the- of course not?”

“excuse me?”

“babe, worms are weird and wriggly and slimy, of course i wouldn’t love you.”

“you mean to say that if you found the poor, helpless worm called han jisung struggling on the street, you wouldn’t pick him up and take him home?” jisung said, borderline offended, and you couldn’t tell whether he was serious or not.

“ji, honey,” you started, taking his hands in your own, “i really love you, but if i saw you as a worm on the ground? it’d be hard for me to not step on you, much less take you in.”

han stood up, pulling his hands away from yours, as he raised his head and, with a swift turn, stomped away to your shared bedroom. maybe he really was upset, but you’d make it up to him with cuddles, apologies, and the reassurance that you love him plenty as a human.

felix !

“lixie, i’ve got a question,” you announced loudly, gaining the attention of the man currently sitting on the floor of your living room, eating a burrito.

“what’s up?”

“would you love me if i was a worm?”

flabbergasted. dumbfounded. rendered speechless. any other synonyms his brain could come up with while in this state.

what did you mean? was it a trick question? if he says yes, will you be disgusted at the thought that he would love a worm? but then, if he says no, what if you think he doesn’t love you? maybe he should answer and then offer his burrito as a peace offering so you don’t get too mad.

“yes....?” felix replied hesitantly.

“is that a question or an answer?” you asked, folding your arms across your chest.

“i don’t know, this is stressful!”

“just answer yes or no!”

“okay then... yes, i think. i’d keep you in the garden so you could have good food and i could have good plants. but i swear, if you ruin any of my plants i-”

giggling, you sat down beside him and tell him you love him and to go back to his burrito, giving him a sweet hug. poor guy deserves it.

seungmin !

you knew to expect absolutely no mercy when it came to seungmin. yes, he loved you, but doesn’t mean he won’t be brutally honest as he always is.

“min, would you love me if i was a worm?”

you swore you’d never seen him that disgusted since he’d seen jeongin eat ramen with ketchup. 

“why a worm? that’s horrible.”

“well, that’s kind of the point! if you really love me, you’d love me no matter what i was,” you explain.

“baby, you know i love you, but a worm?? did you know some of them don’t have a head, only two tails? and they’re so wriggly and slippery, remember the time we tried fishing? do you want to become slimy fish bait?”

“you’d use me for fish bait???”

“it would give your life more purpose than just eating and shitting out compost.”

“i’ll have you know worms are one of the most important creatures in the ecosystem. and i came here expecting a one word answer!” you argued. you were quite fond of the creatures, but you’d kind of expected this reaction when it came to your boyfriend.

seungmin let out a deep sigh, and stated bluntly, “no.”

“no??”

“one word answer, babe.”

he was a menace, but he was your menace.

 i.n !

“jeongin!!!” you call out loudly, startling the poor man sitting at the kitchen counter, waiting for his sandwich to heat up.

“yeah?”

“would you love me if i was a worm?”

“what the- no? obviously??”

“excuse me??? why not?”

“uhm, let’s not get into why not, but you realize you’re never going to be a worm?” jeongin tried to reason with you.

“you don’t know that!” you cry out indignantly.

“yes? i do???”

“okay well, since you’re against the whole human-worm transformation thing, hypothetically speaking, would you still love me?”

“babe the answer’s still a no,” your boyfriend deadpanned.

“well, guess what? since you just shattered my worm heart into three million pieces, good luck getting me to love worm-you!!”

[fatuismooches]

Dottore is the kind of guy who would secretly love for you to dominate him. He would love it when you challenge him. There would always be frequent classroom discussions in the Akademiya but no one would dare argue against him, because he's a smartass and he knows it. Until you do. And you actually make some good points against him. After debates in class, Zandik goes back to his room and fumes and paces back and forth, cursing you but inwardly he knows he liked that shit. He likes the look on your face when you carefully narrow your eyes and smile, politely egging him on to continue. He likes it when you tease him with that intelligent mind of yours. And it also meant you took his ideas seriously which... no one really does. Even in the Fatui, he loves it. Y'all are the kind of couple who debate while kissing... in between breathes you state your reasoning and push him down against the desk/bed, and then the positions are flipped as he does the same to you when he speaks. But then you do it again with more force... and yeah it's just a never-ending cycle (neither of you give in.) It gets pretty crazy sometimes when you're countering the Harbinger in front of the whole lab. Just don't do it too much in front of them please because this can't become the all-knowing Doctor's reputation. Okay, really I just think we need more readers who could and would put him in his place from time to time ❤️

[thestarstoasun]

Will and Naomi Solace don't normally celebrate Easter considering the whole she slept with a Greek god, had a demigod child but could only tell her small-town religious family that she had a one nightstand and got pregnant thing. She had been told they still loved her but was still publicly shamed and shunned until she got famous for her music.

Will didn't think his grandparents, uncles, or aunts deserved his mom in their lives after what they put her through, but he figured if she could forgive them, he could too. Except they didn't know he was bisexual. They didn't know about Nico. Will had been all too willing to tell his sweet, loving, adoring mother about his boyfriend. He made sure Nico knew when he first brought it up that there was no rush, and just like when it came to everything, he was willing to wait forever. (Nico had actually stared at him in disbelief, and with the oh-so-noticeable red splashing across his pale skin muttered a quiet, "Idiota". Will didn't need to be fluent in Italian to know /that one/, even when he first heard it.)

Introducing Nico to his mother was a mistake, not because of any homophobia or monster attacks, but just how much they both love to embarrass him. His mother shares stories and shows pictures (which Will panics about because technology and demigods don't mix well) of a much younger and embarrassing Will, and by the look in Nico's eyes Will knows he is never living it down. In return, his mother learns of his embarrassing flirting in the middle of a war.

The memory was nice now, a year and a half later, especially since Will was currently on the verge of an entire mental breakdown. Being back in Texas had that effect on him. At camp, he locked away all panic, grief, loss, suffering in order to run the infirmary and be strong for his siblings, but here, he had no infirmary and no siblings. He could honestly care less of what these people thought of him - Lee's opinion had mattered, Michael's opinion had mattered, His mama's opinion matters, Nico's feelings and opinion matters. Hades, he cares more for Apollo's opinion than these people, and he was still struggling with his own complicated feelings towards his father - not that they ever showed outwardly.

Will was more worried that these people that shared blood with him would shame his and Nico's relationship and upset his boyfriend. Nico had suffered so much pain and suffering already, especially when it came to his sexuality and accepting that there wasn't anything wrong with himself for loving boys. Will was so proud of how far Nico had come and felt sick to his stomach at being an indirect cause of a relapse.

"You worry too much," The words sounded so beautiful that they must have been spoken by an angel. (They weren't, they were spoken by none other than Nico Di Angelo, but what can he say, he is Apollo's son. It is in his nature to be dramatic at least sometimes.)

"I don't think I worry enough. I mean, there is jus' so much that could go wrong. Mama-" Will shot Nico, who was failing to hide a wide smile, a curious expression unknowingly tilting his head slightly to the right. "What's so amusin' about this?"

"I think I finally understand what Lou Ellen meant when she called you a dog." Will stared blankly absolutely stunned out of his panic, his lips formed a small pout that was absolutely not adorable. Nico got up from where he sat comfortably on Will's bed and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's waist, resting his head on Will's shoulder. "Breathe. I'm already prepared to ditch this dinner and shadow-travel us both and your mother out somewhere nice at the slightest sign of trouble. Catholic guilt is a bitch, but I am done letting it, Gods, or anyone control my life."

Will felt both relieved and worried. Nico had learned so much about his boundaries with his powers over the last year, but it didn't mean Will didn't worry. "Is that why-?"

"Yes, that is why I slept so much today, il mio sole. Even before we left camp you were doing that nervous thing where you wrap bandages around your wrist. I figured something was bothering you and it had to do with our vacation. You love your mom, so it was obviously this dinner. I'm from the 30s, not an idiot, William, amore mio."

Will couldn't help but gently remove Nico's arm's from around him and sweep the boy off his feet. This frustrating, self-destructive, annoyingly attractive, smartass paid way too much attention to a simple healer such as himself, but Will couldn't imagine his life without Nico in it anymore. The half-hearted glare he received filled him with so much warmth and made him smile so wide it hurt, which in turn caused Nico to turn away to hide the slight upturn of his own lips.

[catastrxblues]

i stayed there dust collected on my pinned up hair

[christronomy]

"is this what real love feels like?"

he'd asked himself this question when he first realized he loved you, but he wasn't sure just yet. he wanted to wait it out a little longer, test the waters a little more for his own sanity. it wasn't the first time he'd felt this way— hopelessly in love, like he's falling, falling, hard, fast, too fast, not knowing what the outcome was going to be when he landed.

the questions constantly raced through his mind; they were repetitive and made his head spin with uncertainty and fear. would he hit the ground and never get back up, never recover? or would you be there to catch him and break his fall? what if he let himself fall freely? could he trust you enough to be there? what if it backfired on him and you ended up leaving right before it was time to save him?

it wasn't the first time he'd done this— shared his body with someone in hopes of making them stay a little longer, maybe even love him a little more. "you don't have to do that," you'd said, and he looked at you, confused. it was late at night, you were both naked under the covers, and he tensed up as you gently caressed his body, only confirming your suspicions all the more. "do what?" he questioned, briefly avoiding eye contact, and you raised your eyebrows. "you know. we all have needs, and that's okay, chris. it's never too much to ask for affection sometimes," you reassured him softly, whispering the last part as you tucked your cheek into his chest, and he instinctively held his breath, not being able to relax his body completely until he fell asleep.

it was a bad habit he'd started to develop after his first heartbreak, along with the constant second-guessing himself, and the constant doubting of his ability to love back freely without having to worry about what might happen in the future. because that's what happens when you give so much of yourself to someone and they end up leaving, without a word, without reason, taking everything with them, leaving you with only the useless remains of what once was something so priceless, so beautiful.

but with you, god, with you, things are completely different. you make him want to do everything he's ever been afraid of doing. you make him want to open up and love you freely, love you without feeling like he has to watch his back to make sure you won't attempt to hurt him when he's not looking. it's a new feeling, not very familiar, but he wants it to be. he wants to love you like this. he wouldn't do it any other way.

that's why you're currently under him, already a moaning mess, his hands are gripping your waist like you'll disappear if he doesn't hold on tight enough. it's a pretty tight squeeze, but you don't mind it at all, not when he's fucking into you so passionately, making love to you in the best way he knows how.

you can't help the tears that had been welling up in your eyes, letting them spill out, because he's finally opening up, giving himself to you without hesitation. he's not recoiling and shutting you out like he used to, because for once, this feels right. what was once such a tedious chore to him is now something he's doing willingly. it doesn't feel the same as it did before, when he would fuck you good and hard just to make you feel like you had a reason to stay. and to you, he doesn't feel so absent anymore. he's engaged, making eye contact, whispering sweet praises in your ear, moaning whenever you clenched around him, touching everywhere his hands can reach.

and god did it feel good. it feels good to let himself melt into you like this, let you touch him the way you want. it feels so good to relish in the way you moan his name as he angles his hips to hit that particular spot inside of you just right, feeling your pretty cunt pulsate around him, and you absolutely adore the way he tosses his head back, small whines escaping his lips at the feeling.

chris brings his hands up to cup your cheeks as he continues to thrust into you slowly now, wiping your tears with his thumbs and kissing you deeply, and his heart skips a few beats at the way you moan in his mouth when he does so. the kiss made something flourish inside of him, a feeling that was so unfamiliar but felt like home at the same time, and he could feel it in the way you both smiled against each other's lips. you were his girl, his love, who healed his heart in so many ways, and he would never trade you for anything else.

this is what real love feels like.