#i DO hope ill actually be able to write this... but i only have like. 300 words of it so far lol so no promises. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hella1975 · 3 months

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Hi hella!!!

I feel like i always start these off or end them by saying that these things are going to be incomprehensible in some way, mainly bc i have trouble translating whats going on in my mind into written words so i really dont know how much of my list thingies make sense to you but this one is especially probably going to not make much sense. (also bc i send them a lot when im either very tired or not sober, but i am sober and wide awake rn so this might be a different kind of incomprehensible)

I found one of my old drafts for an ask from around a year ago and it was a follow up response to the last chapter you posted at the time, so im not sure how its going to sound without the context of that specific chapter, but i also mentioned in one of my other asks that i add stuff in last minute and that ask i added a shit ton of stuff so i dont have any of that pretyped out so im going by memory. But im sending it again bc i havent seen you answer it

(please do not interpret this as ‘why didnt you answer my ask >:/’ or me rushing you to answer asks or anything like that, but like I said its been a year so im assuming tumblr ate it. If not and you just havent cleaned out your ask box and you find the original, congratulations you’ll know what i originally said. Bc idk how accurate this will be)

Theres two different ways that you seem to write metaphors (idk if thats what theyre called im not caught up on my literary terminology)

(im scrolling through your blog rn looking for my other asks and tumblr really did you dirty in your asks system like i started scrolling and the third one down was from 2021 and im fighting for my life trying to find my tag (thank you for my tag btw its very useful to me))

Anywho, most of your metaphors ( to me) can be split into two categories. Theres the simple ones and the complex ones. Now this might seem obvious but im going to explain to you how these have different effects on my brain.

An example of the ‘simple’ ones is

““If Nanook’s tone had a note of seriousness, then Zuko’s was the entire orchestra.”” (idk what chapter this is from its been a while)

You have a lot of these kinds of whatever the haick kind of literary technique this is (is this a metaphor i’ve been trying to google it for like ½ an hour and i cant figure it out) BUT these type of things that are simple and easy to process is one of my favorite things about the way you write. I think this is a very common technique but the way you do it to me is just a lot more unique than the ways ive seen it done before. Its extremely fluent with the voice of the characters and brings a perfect kind of vibe to the ‘conversation’ (or story, text, whatever) and it paints the picture of what your trying to say perfectly. I also really like how these types of things arent ever in Zukos pov a lot (sometimes it is, but not nearly as much, I’ve noticed) and its not in the more serious like revelations that you drop these in. Like I said, it adds to the voice of the characters, bc of the contrast of Zuko constantly having revelations and dramatic archs and stuff, and the other characters just in general being a lot more calm. Its like when youre listening to a song and you have the lyrics and the like ‘main’ music behind the lyrics, but then when you listen to the song a lot you notice the smaller, like backup music that adds a lot to the song and makes it a lot more enjoyable than if it was just the lyrics and the louder more up front music.

Then in contrast you have the bigger ‘metaphors’

An example of this is ‘You curse in words already invented’

THIS IS MY FAVORITE LINE IN THE ENTIRE FIC.

OF ANY FIC OR BOOK EVER READ

AND THIS IS WHY

When I tell you I could not figure out what this meant for months I am AWFUL with stuff like this and interpreting it my english teachers hate me bc of it. Id have the question ‘why were the curtains blue’ and my answer would be ‘bc the people who decorated the room like blue maybe theyre interior designers and it goes with the room 😊 and thats so hot of them bc i love blue too’

But even thought i couldnt figure it out it stayed in my head and i probably thought about it once a day (i mean this literally, i think about that part all the time) and i cant remember the context for that or anything but i do remember that i knew it was a wonderful phrase.

I’ve mentioned in my other asks how whenever im reading anything at all that you’ve written (whether its tams, or toab, or in the tags of something even if its like 10 words), everything you type comes out so fluidly like a formula or a color wheel or however i put it last time i talked about this. And this is on the prodigious end of the spectrum of this.

But phrases like that are another part of the fic, theyre like the lyrics of the song. Like the phrases that gets all the attention and gets put in fanart and that gets quoted in comment sections because they deserve that recognition and you deserve that recognition and are just a reminder of how incredibly talented you are.

I mean that in the most sincere way that i know how to express.

I am constantly in awe of you and your writing style, and i really do think of you as one of the most talented writers of everything ive ever read.

And something else worth mentioning is that it isnt just your ao3 that portrays that. Like if I were to just read your ao3 I’d be like ‘oh wow this person is an amazing writer’ But your tumblr persona plays into it a lot more (In my opinion). Because then you see like more ‘backround’ stuff on ao3. And more of your system (im not articulating this in the way i mean it very well) and you get privy to the fact that you’re not a 30 year old with a masters in english and that you’ve never had any formal education on writing. I vaguely remember you talking about a story about a sailor (??? i might be misremembering that) that you wrote when you were a child and thinking ‘oh wow so she’s always been like that’. And its stuff like that that you dont get on ao3 that kind of reaffirms how incredible of a writer you are.

And this (to me) makes you a really easy person to admire. (ik i touched on this in a different ask but i dont remember if it was one of my list asks or not) but as someone who probably isnt going to ever be able to get an education around writing, it kind of reassures me that i dont need that to be great at it.

(i kind of feel like a lot of the stuff in this ask is too like ‘simple’ or obvious to be given a lot of weight, but this whole thing is about the kinds of things you do that brings me personally joy and the metaphors are one of them so)

Also on an off note when i was looking through your asks to try to find my tag, I noticed that i send you a heavy percentage of your anonymous asks (mainly without my alias) and I thought that was funny. But also i hope it doesnt come across as obsessive or weird, I swear i do that to a lot of people on here, I’m just a very social person. .😂

Also Im in your tbos server (lurking in the shadows) and someone pointed out that whenever you do the reaction emojis you always do the white ones, and thats going on the official ‘my favorite things about hella’ list because that was genuinely one of the funniest things ive seen.

Also the ‘anytime you type its very fluid (im too lazy to scroll up and see how i put it rn) also carrys on to discord. I think that i could probably block out the user names and be able to figure out that its you talking every time, you have a very distinct way of talking.

Also i wanted to mention that every time you answer these i read them again and i want to say like 1/3 of what i sasy, i have no recollection of. And i never have any idea what im talking about. so i think thats funny.

LIST ANONNNNNNNNNNNNN BAWLING MY EYES OUT HELLO BABY WELCOME BACK FROM WAR IVE MISSED YOU IM JUST HERE LIKE THIS RN

#this is so something i needed to hear rn bc always during exam season i 'lose' my ability to write like even the writing i do get done #just feels so fucking stale and awful imo and i just have to force myself to push through or else ill have a crisis about it #so i started studying in DECEMBER and it's now almost february exams are done but i CANT get out of that mindset for some reason #like ive been in a really bad writing flunk where im ABLE to write but the stuff i do write just feels genuinely terrible #like im losing it about dog teeth atm bc this story i was so in love with just feels so basic and underwhelming on a reread #and idk how much of that is me being insane and perfectionist and how much is valid criticism #so being told that actually there are people who not only enjoy my writing but are so thoroughly convinced it's a fundamental part of me #and something i am inherently GOOD at to the point even the way i talk CASUALLY is telling of it is just. oughhh im pacing my room #and the fact it doesn't HAVE to be my pretentious prose shit sometimes the more 'basic' stuff is STILL good. you're in my walls #i cant believe you're in the discord i hope you say hi!!! i dont bite!!! <- lying #also those assholes can take my silly white emojis from my COLD DEAD HANDS. white thumbs down will never die #ask #list anon

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widevibratobitch · 5 months

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Link, if they are posted, to your don carlos fics s'il vous plait :3c

ohhh no anon beloved, the ones i mentioned in the tags are not gonna be ready for a long long time yet. if ever. ive only just started them today upon a sudden and unexpected return of my don carlo thots and feelings :(

(i will share the only fic of mine i don't actually hate though if you're interested in that. there's no necrophilia or any of the truly dead dove stuff in this one, sorry :c but it IS unhappy and makes everything better for a moment just to make it all Even Worse in the end, which is a genre i myself am also very fond of <3)

#i DO hope ill actually be able to write this... but i only have like. 300 words of it so far lol so no promises.#manifest it with me if you dare tho 🙏#don carlos #ask #anon

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mokkkki · 6 months

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the way you write is so beautiful... tips for somebody new to writing who wants to write like you?

YOU are so beautiful, thank you so much! im not sure about any tips i have, but ill give it a shot. these are what i personally believe to have been the most important things:

find your wavelength my writing became a lot more stylized and personalized after i found an author that i resonated with, as well as a couple of themes. it just helps to know what you are actually interested in writing in, versus what you think other people would like to read. im personally interested in writing about relationships and dynamics, so my writing will always be more character than action driven. also, it helps, because youre always going to end up writing what you want to write, even in the smallest of ways, so why not embrace it fully? write what you want to read. otherwise, you wont have fun. and writing is SO MUCH FUN. knowing what youre into and what youre trying to channel gives you a really strong basis for all of your writing - not only will it take time for you to find your wavelength, meaning that youll have to expose yourself to many different genres and authors, which is a must, youll always be able to look back at that ONE creative piece and grab some motivation from it.

expose and explore creativity is everywhere - tv shows, movies, books, fanfics, comics, art, architecture, history (!!!), mythology, sports, reality - literally everywhere you can think of. dont wait for inspiration because its everywhere if you look hard enough. familiarize yourself with the seven basic plots, the thirty-six dramatic situations, basic foreshadowing elements, and other essentials. this isnt something to study or memorize, just to KNOW - its good to be aware of the foundations of literature.

embrace the brainrot and maintain a balance become obsessed w your own ocs, your own plots, your own everything. be your own biggest fan. to enter an abusive relationship with your own work is extremely upsetting, because youre doing wrong by the wonderful world youve made, and doing wrong by that part of you that just wants to be creative, too - and if that happens, its probably because you arent writing what you want to write, or controlling what doesnt want to be controlled. let your characters be individuals, let them go where they want to go, just follow and note what theyre doing. sometimes writing is a passive activity rather than active creation, and thats okay! thats when you know youve built a solid world that can run by itself and you just contribute to. that being said, while theres nothing quite like the hours spent ravenously typing, you need to find a balance. you are as important as your work, because without you, the work wouldnt exist. i also reccomend forcing yourself NOT to write on specific days. some ideas need to marinate, and some people need to rest.

i hope this was helpful <;3 if you ever need more help (and this also applies to those reading), feel free to reach out! im open to being a beta reader or just a brainstorming partner. lots of love!

#writing tips #ask

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pedrithink · 10 months

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delicate ✩ jude bellingham

about: the massive hate you are getting on internet and the way jude stood by you, supporting you.

couple: jude bellingham x reader! singer

request: hey babyyyy! what do u think about a jude x reader (maybe olivia rodrigo fc) ?? xxx love u

face claim: olivia rodrigo

NOW: Jude’s Bellingham talks ‘Real Madrid’, His first World Cup’s impressions & His favorite Y/N’s songs.

comments ⬇️

user1 he’s so perfect 🥹 yn and him seemed like soulmates

user2 I REMEMBERED WHEN YN POINTED AT JUDE DURING GORGEOUS AND HE TOOK A PHOTO AND SHE WAS ALL GIGGLY

user3 yn once said “you’re so gorgeous, it actually hurts” and “they say home is where the heart is, but that's not where mine lives. you know I love a london boy.”

user4 @user3 im yn

user5 imagine being jude bellingham and having yn write her best love songs and best title tracks about you a DREAM

judebellingham has added to their story

ynusername

Liked by judebellingham, selenagomez, and 5.682.972 others

ynusername vampire song and video out now 🧛🏼. writing this song helped me sort through lots of feelings of regret, anger, and heartache. it's one of my favorite songs on the album and it felt very cathartic to finish. im so happy it's in your hands now and I hope it helps u deal with any bloodsuckers in your lite. all my thanks 4ever 🫶🏻

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judebellingham proud of you, vampie 🧛🏼🩸🥹🫶🏻

ynusername @judebellingham love u babs

user1 vampire is one of the best songs ever

user2 another song about another ex 🥱🙄

user3 @user2 literally let people write out their feelings or WHATEVER they want. obviously yall can only attack women for this tho...

user4 people calling yn boring or overrated for writing songs about her ex does not sit right w me …. like let her write about whatever she wants?? she’s 20??? all singers have songs about their ex’s???? stfu

user5 @user4 SPEAK. ON. IT

user6 "yn makes too much songs ab her ex" "all she write is break up songs, she’s so obsessed"

ok then stop listening to her songs 🤷🏻‍♀️

user7 whaaaaat 😭 why are there so many people mad that yn wrote some songs about her ex. meanwhile, there are men who only write songs about fucking hoes and using drugs and yet they still get praised for it 🥱

judebellingham

Liked by ynusername, masonmount, and 7.899.082 others

judebellingham date night with vampie to celebrate all of her achievements, proud of u ❤️‍🩹

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ynusername 🧛🏻‍♀️🩸❤️‍🩹🧛🏼

user8 JUDE CALLING YN VAMPIE >>>>

user9 i hope i find someone who supports me the way jude supports yn

user10 ill always be soft for these two. its amazing how jude supports yn in any way he can and yn never forgets to save jude a seat. fucking POWER COUPLE!!!

user11 @user10 i just love them

user12 lets talk about the fact that at the 2020 grammys she didn’t feel like there was someone to celebrate with and now she has one and he helps her and supports her and take her on dates when she achieves more and more in her singing career 🥹

user13 yn and jude be like: happiest relationship of my life, so let’s go cheer for my breakup songs together 💕💞💓💗💖💘

ynusername

Liked by judebellingham, arianagrande, and 10.927.526 others

ynusername delicate is out now 🫧 surprise song for y’all, hope u like it 🫶🏻

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user14 delicate video really speaks to me. yn let go of the world's expectations of how she should act, smile and behave. once she did that, she was able to find who she was looking for. i’m shaking and crying, so so proud of our baby!!!!

user15 @user14 it’s already my favorite music video of her!!!! i love the lyrics 2

user16 these pics were taking by jude i’m CRYING and the lyrics… I JUST LOVE HIM EVEN MORE

user17 @user16 yeah 🥹 i’m so happy that she found someone that makes her feel like that

user18 delicate is one of the most beautiful songs yn has ever written, it’s so GENUINE.

#jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham headcanons #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham #football imagine #football fanfic #football one shot #football x reader #football instagram au

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carmyboobear · 2 months

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Blood Orange (Ch 1: The Walk-In)

Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)

Rating: E (7.3k words)

links: fic playlist, pinterest board, ao3 link

Summary: Losing your job is the worst thing to ever happen to you. Getting hired by Carmen Berzatto is a close second. You tell yourself that The Beef is only temporary, that it's just a replacement until you find something better. It doesn't work. You've stopped listening. You've had a taste of Carmy, and now you don't think you're ever gonna be able to let go. No matter how bad it gets.

Content Tags: secret workplace relationship/sex, friends/coworkers with benefits, they/them afab reader, miscommunication, mental illness (carmy and reader), dom/sub dynamics, dom carmy (for now), enemies to friends to lovers (eventually), unhealthy coping mechanisms, dysfunctional relationship

A/N: It's finally here! New series! We even get sex in the first chapter! In my other fic, I'm taking care of Carmy. In this one, I'm making him worse. Of course, here's a disclaimer that I DON’T condone or intend to glorify any of this behavior. It's just compelling to write. Enjoy!

You return to The Beef for the first time in years when you're at your lowest.

The only upside to this abysmal situation is that the job was shitty. The job you just got laid off from, to be exact. Retail was never your passion, and there's a certain relief in knowing you don't have to go back to that windowless place. You didn't play an important role in the ecosystem, but it played a pretty crucial role in yours. It kept a roof over your head.

You're sure you could’ve sued them in some fashion for letting you go without any warning, any parachute, but you didn't have the luxury of time. You needed to figure out how you were going to pay rent, and fast.

After the rage boiled over (not to say that it's resolved, the residual anger's leveled into an even simmer), you pulled your hair back, found your cleanest, nicest outfit, and started your job search. With your updated resume in hand and scuffed sneakers on your feet, you've trekked all over Chicago looking for a new job. You weren't optimistic, nor were you hopeful.

You suppose the only word you could use to describe yourself was desperate, and it was a matter of finding someone that was just as desperate, if not more desperate than you. To put it politely, the odds of that were low. Very low.

You got laid off that very morning. The rest of your afternoon has been spent walking from door to door to every establishment you could spot. By some cruel twist of fate, none of them were hiring. The ones that were hiring looked unenthusiastic, even adverse to taking your resume.

“When would you be able to start?” Some of the workers asked.

“Tomorrow,” was your desperately honest answer.

“If all goes well, you'll hear from us in a week,” was their response. The unspoken was, of course, the fact that radio silence was more likely than an email or phone call. Places didn't even send rejection letters anymore.

“Thanks for your time,” you'd say, bringing out a bright smile from a complete lack of reserves, and as soon as you turned around, your face would drop.

Your hopes were low, nearly non-existent, but damn. Damn. It wasn't looking good for you.

That's why you enter The Beef. You vaguely remember visiting this place a couple years ago, back when you first moved to Chicago. The owner was…pretty nice, actually. You don't remember his name, but you remember having a pleasant conversation with him. Of course, there's nothing you can do if he doesn't have a job opening, but it wouldn't be bad to see a friendly face. Even if that face is from someone who's basically a stranger.

The doorbell rings when you enter. It catches the attention of the man standing behind the counter, and with how his head jolts up, you'd think the bell functioned as an alarm instead.

“Welcome,” he says. Your first impression, other than the fact that he seems very, very, tired, is that he's irritatingly attractive. If anything, the eyebags and the greased back waves only add to whatever the hell he's got going on.

“Hi. Um…” You're briefly caught off guard by his biceps, but you catch yourself. “I was actually wondering if you guys were hiring.”

“We are,” he replies, and it's the best thing you've heard all day. He lights up like the spark of a lighter, bright and instantaneous. It doesn't shake the pervasive exhaustion that radiates off him, though.

“Thank god,” you mutter, and you want to take it back (it's far too casual), but he cracks an amused smile that makes you want to dissolve like a pinch of salt in a sea of sauce. “Sorry. Do you mind if I talk to the owner? We met a while ago, and—”

“I'm the owner,” he interrupts, and any other words you had planned fall away.

“Sorry?” You repeat. “I swear it was this guy—he had short dark hair, I think—”

“Yeah, he left the place to me. Didn't want it anymore, so.” He shrugs. The light you just saw from him has fizzled away like the end of a sparkler, short-lived and ultimately disappointing.

“Oh. Got it. Uh…” To your credit, you don't fumble for too long. You have a lot of questions, but you've got more pressing issues. You pluck out a resume from a file folder. “Here's my resume, then.”

He takes it from you, flips it to face him. He's quiet as his eyes lower down the page, and you wonder if it's going to be a guillotine or a pot of gold at the end of this. The only sounds in the entrance are the passing cars outside, the rickety air conditioning, and muffled chatter from the back.

“You worked as a prep cook.” He says it like a fact, but you know it's a question.

“Yeah, nothing fancy. Just at some chain restaurants.”

“Right. I see you worked as a line cook at another location. Which one did you prefer?”

“Uh…” They both came with their separate pains. Your honest answer is that being a line cook was one of the most stressful experiences of your life, but if he has a position open as a line cook, you don't want to fuck it up. “They were both fine. I think I was a little better as a prep cook, but I didn't mind either.”

He hums, satisfied by your answer. At least it’s only half of a lie.

“How do you work under pressure?”

“Good,” you answer quickly. “Well enough.”

“Willing to learn?”

“Obviously. I mean…” You think you see a flash of a smile, but you're unsure. “Yeah.”

“When'd you be able to start?” You're surprised he's already asking this.

“Tomorrow,” you say, just like you’ve been, and his reaction is different from the others. He nods. He doesn't smile, not like he did earlier, but you can tell this is a good sign.

Before he can get a word out, there's a sharp, metallic explosion of noises that resounds from the direction of the kitchen.

“Uh,” he starts, eyebrows pinched in irritation, the voices come in.

“I told you, you have to say behind!” A woman's voice. She sounds young, but there's no real way to be sure of that.

“How the hell did you not hear me coming?” A Chicago accent, male. Older, maybe. “I was in the middle of having a conversation with Tina—”

“Great, I'm so happy for you, I don't give a shit, now this has all went to waste—”

“Well, who's fault is that?”

“Who's fault is that? You did not just—”

“Guys!” The man you've been talking to gives you an apologetic glance before walking to the back, pushing through the folding doors. You catch a glimpse of the two people arguing on the other side before it shuts. “I'm tryin’ to talk to a new hire here. We can't be like this right now. Not ever, but especially right now.”

Finally, the first sane person I've met all day, you think.

“Carmy, talk some sense into her,” the older guy shouts, and it gives you a name to the face. “All of this on the floor—”

“You didn't say behind,” the woman repeats, except with more fury in it this time.

“You didn't say behind,” he imitates back. “Carmy—”

“She’s right. Richie, step out,” Carmy says. “Syd, you clean this up.”

“But—” You hear her start to protest.

“You spilled it, you clean it,” he cuts through, decisive and firm.

“I know, but Richie—”

“Clean it,” he repeats, firmer, darker this time, and there's a beat of silence.

“...Yes, chef.”

“I told you to step out,” Carmy tells who you assume is Richie.

“You're just gonna let her—”

“Step the fuck outside right fucking now!” Carmy screams, his patience shooting away like a gunshot. You feel something shrivel inside you, and not in a good way. “Do the one fucking thing you're good at and get out of the fucking way!”

Yeah…definitely not in a good way.

From what you hear, it sounds like Richie has to get wrestled outside by someone, whom you're not sure. After another minute, Carmy returns to the front.

“I'm sorry about that. Fucking—” He drags a hand across his face. You swear his eyebags have grown heavier in the 5 minutes he was in the kitchen. “What was I saying?”

“Um, I was saying that I could start tomorrow,” you remind him, although the vigor you had just stated it with is a bit fizzled out.

“Right. Okay. Uh—” He pats his hands on his apron, searching for something. A pen and paper appear in his hands, and he scribbles something on it. This is when you notice his tattoos. A flower on the back of his hand. Surprising. “You're hired. Here's the paperwork you need to fill out, along with the number and email you'll be hearing from me at.”

“What?” You take the sheets, but the smooth paper doesn't feel real in your hands. His handwriting is hasty and dark, like he was running out of time on a test. “I mean, I'm just surprised.”

“Do you not want it?”

“I want it,” you promise, and you feel your cheeks flush. This is a bad time to yet again notice how attractive he is. His pretty eyes, his nose. The little moles under his left eye. “Y-Yeah, I want the job.”

“Good.” He motions towards the sticky note again. “Come in at 8 am tomorrow. You'll be starting as a prep cook, which you've done before.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, I'll be there.” The reality is setting in now, and an odd cocktail of relief, apprehension, and excitement is settling in your stomach. “Thank you so much.” I just got laid off from my job this morning, so this means a lot, you want to say, but it's too soon. You don't want to say anything that'll make him change his mind about whatever he sees in you.

“Thank you,” he echoes back. “We need the help. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“See you,” you reply, and with that, the door rings behind you. A customer comes up to the counter, peering up at the menu. You figure this is your cue to leave. He's not looking at you anymore anyway.

So, I got a job now, you update your friends, texting them on your way home on the metro. As the relieved congratulations come flying in, another remark seems to resound amongst all of them.

I can't believe you got the job just like that. That place must be desperate, too, is roughly what they've all said. The thing is, they're not wrong.

You managed to find someone more desperate than you in the job economy. Just one, but that was enough. It makes you think, though. You think about Carmy's weary blue eyes, his brief smile, and his hand tattoos. You wonder if it's just the restaurant that gives him that bone-deep exhaustion, or if it's a smaller part of a bigger picture.

You think about it for the rest of your commute, you think about it as you smoke on the porch, you think about it as you lay in bed. You think about it as you fill out the paperwork, fingers tracing where Carmy's written his name, number, and email.

Carmen Berzatto

773-555-0901

So Carmy's a nickname, you think. Not about what type of boss he's going to be, not about what it's going to be like working under someone you are obviously attracted to.

Maybe you should be more worried about this.

If it's bad, I'll just find another job, you tell yourself, and you foolishly believe it.

. . . . .

Your first day on the job starts with introductions.

At least, that's about as much as you've figured out so far. When he sees you upon arrival, he pauses and stares at you like he's forgotten. Not a great start. Granted, he does snap out of it. That's when he tells you to follow him, which is where you currently find yourself. You're not sure where he's leading to, only that he's introducing you to others as you pass them by.

“They’re working with us starting today,” Carmy tells everyone. “They’re gonna be on prep.”

Right. So that's what you'll be doing. At least he told you that much yesterday.

The catalog of coworkers expands exponentially. You remember Sydney from yesterday, and to her credit, she apologizes about having you witness her fight with Richie, who conveniently isn't here yet. She seems the nicest out of all the bunch, so you decide to let it slide.

Marcus is pretty nice, too. So are Ebra, Sweeps, Manny, Angel—everyone seems to be pretty alright. It’s obvious they’re standoffish by you being in their space. You find it hard to hold it against them. You’re not really sure how your relationships with them are going to pan out. There are only three that you’re particularly unsure on.

The first and obvious one is Richie. He came in eventually and didn’t give you the best impression, immediately talking over everyone and oozing arrogance. The only salvageable thing is that he’s not even a chef. At least you won’t have to be in the kitchen with him much. You want to avoid the honor of talking to him as much as possible.

Tina is next. She clearly doesn’t enjoy having someone new in the ecosystem, and she’s spent more time ignoring you than talking with you. As you understand it, she’s close to the rest of the staff since they’ve all been together for a while. Minus you and Syd, as you learn she’s only been there for a week. You think Tina will warm up to you…eventually.

Carmy is the last one, and he’s…he’s…

He’s something else.

He has you doing prep for most of the day. After introducing you to everyone and giving you a brief tour, he brings you to your station, scratched up stainless steel.

“You’re going to be cutting onions and carrots today for the stock. The vegetables are in the walk-in I showed you earlier, and when it’s done, it goes on the first shelf.” Carmy’s to your right, set up at his own station. You swear you keep your eyes focused on the vegetables, not his biceps in that shirt, but… “You should already know this, but label everything. I don’t want to see anything without a date. Got it?”

“Yes, chef,” you confirm, snapping out of it. He’s been flinging new information at you like it’s a war and he’s gunning to survive. But so are you. “I’ll do my best.”

“I expect as such.” He slides over a peeler for the carrots and some plastic bins for trash. “It’s just a stock, so don’t worry about an even cut. Just salvage whatever you can, cut off anything that doesn’t look good.” You nod. “Been a year or so since you did this, right?”

“Yeah. I cook regularly, but I’ll need to get back into the groove of things. And I will,” you add hastily. “I’ll combine them into this one when I'm done, right?” You ask, nudging a large plastic container.

“Correct.” A brief smile flashes across his face. “You're already following quicker than I thought you would.” You’re not sure if he means it as an insult or a compliment, so you decide to take it as the latter.

“I haven't even chopped anything yet.”

“I know.” His expression is flat again. You resist a laugh. He plucks an onion from the bin, puts it in front of you. “Show me a rough dice.”

The knife is sharp. You notice this as you place careful cuts into the onion. It's not quite as sharp as his unnerving gaze, which layers pressure upon pressure. It builds up like a pastry puff, thin multitudes of layers expanding upward. You need to be good. You need to be perfect. You don't want to disappoint him, not this early, even though you've barely been here for an hour.

It's just a shitty old sandwich shop, you tell yourself, but your dicing is uneven and you briefly think about accidentally chopping your fingers off.

“Not my best work,” you admit, vaguely breathless. Carmy hasn't said anything yet.

“It'll do.” You're waiting for him to say something else, give you some tips, but he doesn't. Irritation prickles to the tips of your fingers. “I'll be back to check in on you later.”

You stand there, motionless and shocked in the aftermath. You're not sure what you expected from today, but being abandoned an hour in was not at the top of your bucket list.

Man, what the fuck, you think, the thought clear in the silence around you, and that's the last time you can hear yourself think for the rest of the shift.

There's a prepared stock from yesterday simmering on the stove behind you. It's flanked by boiling potatoes and reducing tomato sauce. The heat from it’s searing your back like a steak, slowly drawing lines of moisture all over the surface of your shirt. Your coworkers constantly invade your space to check on them. You suppose it's not their fault that the kitchen, but it's still irritating. They're also all shouting over each other like it's a competition.

“Who the fuck touched my stock—”

“No one touched your stupid shitty stock—”

“I am trying to find this cutting board, will someone please—”

You move on from the onions with only a thin layer of sweat collected at your hairline.

Your hands are shaky as they peel the carrots. You know you're not getting as efficient of a shave as you could be, but the caffeine crash from your morning coffee is getting to you. You don't remember the last time you drank water. A cigarette sounds nice.

“Clean your station, chef.” Carmy materializes next to you. You hear him before you see his hands scooping carrot shavings into a plastic container. It shocks you so much that you almost cut yourself.

“Sorry, chef,” you reply reflexively. You look down at your station, straightening your tools. You want to ask if you can take your break, but you don't want to look any weaker than you do already. “So, uh, do we get 30's here?”

When you don't get a response, your head snaps up, irritation on the tip of your tongue, but he's not even there.

Fucking hell, you think, annoyance simmering into something akin to anger, and you go back to finishing your prep.

You don't see him for another hour after that. It's not even him that tells you to take your 15, it's Syd, who noticed you were half-way through your shift and on the verge of…something.

“You finished the prep he gave you, right?” Syd had asked. You told her you finished and put it back in the walk-in. “Yeah, then go take your break. Did he not tell you we get 15's here?”

“He didn't,” you say, too annoyed to bother hiding the disdain in your face. Sydney just sighs, rolling her eyes, and you think you love her.

“Asshole.” She makes a shooing motion at you then. “Go, get a break from this madness. It'll get better, I promise.”

You're not sure if you believe her, but you do step outside to take your break.

As you stand outside in the back, you take note of tightness in your body that you weren't even aware of. The cigarette smoke calms you, loosens you. Or maybe you owe that to getting out of that hot kitchen.

This time, you see Carmy before you hear him. You turn to the door to see him stepping out, a pack of smokes in his hand.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” you reply.

“Everythin’ goin’ okay so far?”

“Yeah. It's fine.” Other than everything.

“Really?” His surprise just pisses you off further. “Well, that's good.”

“...Yeah.” You decide if your mouth stays unoccupied, you'll start cussing him out, so you put your cigarette back in your mouth.

“You're bleeding.”

“What?”

“I said, you're bleeding. Your hand.”

You look down at your hand holding the cigarette, and sure enough, there's a thin, shallow cut oozing blood near one of your knuckles.

“Shit,” you mutter, quickly sucking the skin into your mouth. When you pull it back, the red refills. “I didn't even notice.”

“Let's get a bandaid on that.” He puts his unlit cigarette back into his pack. “I have some in my office.”

That's how you end up in the enclosed, dark space of his office, seated on the only chair as he leans back against his cluttered desk. The dingy first-aid kit is propped on top of a shaky stack of papers. Carmy takes out a bandaid from it and peels it open.

“Thought I gave you a sharp knife, it shouldn't have cut you like that,” Carmy comments.

“It was sharp,” you correct. “Guess I just fucked up.”

“It happens,” he says, which surprises you. He keeps surprising you. You just can't seem to figure him out. “Let me see the cut.”

You only realize that he's putting the bandaid on you when he cradles your hand in his. His hands are warm.

He has so many hand tattoos. You notice the letters on his fingers first, the SOU curled around your palm. You notice the other tattoo on the back of his hand next, since that's the one carefully placing the bandaid on you.

He wraps it around your finger just right. Not too tight, not too loose.

“Is that too tight?” He asks, almost in a whisper. He's so close, and he smells like kitchen oil, cigarette smoke, and a faded cologne you can't place.

“No, it's okay.” You don't mean to talk so quietly back, but you do. You can't stop staring at his fingers. They're long and marked up with silver scars and burns. If you look carefully, you can place the locations of his callouses.

“Good.” You don’t know why he does it, but he runs his thumb across the seams of where your bandaid overlaps. Surely it’s just to secure it further…surely.

“Thank you.” He’s still holding your hand. You’re unsure if you’re imagining the tension in the air or not. Everything feels more intimate behind closed doors, especially in low light. “I could’ve done it myself.”

“It’s easier if another person does it.” He lets go, finally, and you try not to mourn the loss. “Did you finish prepping for the stock?”

“What you gave me, yeah.”

“Alright. Let’s go take a look at it, then,” he says, like that isn’t the most anxiety inducing thing you’ve ever heard.

“R-Right now?”

“As opposed to?” He opens the door to his office, and the muffled noises in the kitchen become sharp and clear again, like emerging from underwater. “Come on.”

You don’t know how it happens, but Carmy gets into five separate arguments on the way to the walk-in. FIVE. To be fair, two of them are from Richie.

“I’ve been telling you guys to sharpen your knives, don’t fucking treat them like this,” Carmy shouts, trudging over to someone’s station. “You see this? This is exactly what we should not be doing! How many times have I said this today?! Don’t—“

“Stop going into my office when I’m not there,” Carmy hisses at Richie next. “You keep fucking up where the papers are put, and I can’t find anything! It’s enough of a mess as it is! No—I said—cousin, listen to me—“

“Everyone shut the hell up, clean your stations, and get the fuck back to work!” Is the last thing he shouts before slamming the door to the walk-in behind you. He slams it so hard the wire racks rattle. You decide not to comment.

The difference in sound is eerie. You’re always surprised by how sound proof these walk-in fridges are.

“Is this the prep you did today?” Carmy asks, touching one of the clear plastic bins. Sure enough, it’s the one you placed there a moment ago.

“Yeah, it is.” You chew the inside of your cheek. You were hoping he would be in an okay mood when he checked your work. It seemed like he was at first, but now?

“It's on the wrong shelf.”

“What?” You stare at it sitting on the first shelf, just like he told you to. “You told me to put it on the first shelf.”

“It goes on the second shelf.” He's pissed, and there's ice in your veins. He huffs as he takes the container and moves it one shelf up, slamming it down unnecessarily. “I told you—second shelf.”

“You literally said it went on the first shelf.” The ice has melted, and it's boiling.

“No, I didn't.” You wanna punch him. Badly. You know what you heard. “And you forgot to label it.”

“Shit.” That, you did forget. You’re not above owning up to your mistakes, unlike him. “I'm sorry, I was—”

“We always need stuff like this to be labeled,” he interrupts, rude and abrupt. You can hear the thinly veiled anger in his voice. “I told you.”

“I know, I just—“

“Don’t make excuses. Just do better.”

“It’s my first fucking day!” You snap, finally, and it’s like a firecracker in the dead of night. “I don’t expect to be coddled, but I’ve only been here for a couple hours, and you’re just—“

“I told you to put a label on it, to put it on the second shelf, and you didn’t do either of those things.” This is a different type of anger. It’s quiet, contained. Dangerous. And with your outburst, it’s trembling at the edges.

“You literally hired me yesterday!” You’re exasperated. “You looked at my resume for like two seconds before hiring me, and you’re mad that I’m messing up?”

“You had enough credentials on your resume. You told me you could work well under pressure and learn quickly. Is that true or not?”

“It is true! You just have to give me a chance first!”

“I just gave you a chance,” Carmy snaps back, “and you fucked it up.”

“Oh my god. I just—“ You take a step back. “I don’t have to take this shit.”

“Are you quitting already?”

“I wasn’t going to.” You move towards the door. “But maybe I should, before you fire me. Doesn't seem like you want me, anyway.”

You were planning on exiting the walk-in after that, to leave on cue, but the door doesn’t budge. You and Carmy notice it at the same time.

Suddenly, there is a new problem.

“Fuck,” Carmy curses under his breath. The two of you are pushing against the door, but it won’t budge. He slams his fist on it and calls out. “Guys, the walk-in door is stuck! Can any of you open it from out there?”

“Carmen?” Richie's voice is muffled from the other end. There's the sound of frustrated efforts on the other end. “It's not fuckin’ budging!”

“Fuck,” Carmy repeats, seething, and you agree. “Call Fak!”

“I already did! He’s gonna be here in 20!”

“20 minutes?!” Carmy shouts. You close your eyes and sigh, audibly. “Don't we have a screwdriver in here or something?! Just take the hinges off!”

“Why do you think I called Fak?! Shut the hell up and be patient!”

“Tell him to hurry the fuck up,” Carmy barks, and that's where their conversation ends.

“Just what I needed right now,” you mutter under your breath. Carmy's not looking at you, eyes boring into the door that's trapping the both of you in here with each other. “To be locked in a room with you.”

It's quiet for a minute before he speaks, cutting the silence open.

“...I do want you, y'know.”

“You—huh?” He said it so quietly you're not sure if it was a hallucination.

“We need you here.” He's still not looking at you. “This place—it's fucked. We don't have enough hands.”

“I can tell,” you say, and you mean for it to come out bitter, but it's soft. Naively so.

“I want you here. I do.” He doesn't need to say it like that. You don't want to believe it, neither his words or the way hearing it makes you feel. “I need you.”

“Can you at least look at me when you say it?”

You’re not sure why you say it. You instantly recognize it for how needy it sounds, but you don't get the luxury of embarrassment. Carmy's already turning to face you.

“I want you,” he repeats, voice low. You think about the paint you'd need to mix to match the color of his eyes. Blue, white, and the slightest bit of orange to desaturate it. You're not sure what type of orange, though. “I need you.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, despite yourself, and it's too late.

“Are you gonna do better?” You didn't even register him moving closer to you. When did your back end up against the shelves?

“I’m gonna do better,” you whisper, “if you stop being such an asshole.”

“It won't happen again,” he whispers back, and you recognize it for the lie that it is.

You don't really care, though.

His face is so close to yours that you can see the separate specks of colors in his iris. You watch his gaze fall from your eyes to your lips, and it lingers there before rising again. Any shreds of self respect or control you were clinging onto disintegrate. It doesn't matter if he really means what it says. All that matters is getting your mouth on his.

“Okay,” you say, a whisper of foolish acceptance, and you're kissing him.

Or is he kissing you? You don't know who leaned forward first. It's not important.

“I saw you staring at my hands today,” Carmy says against your lips. Spit makes your mouths slide easily against each other. “Yesterday, too.”

“What the—no you didn't,” you gasp, appalled, heat rising in your face, “how did you—?”

“You're right. I didn't,” he admits with a cheeky grin. You’re really gonna punch him now.

“God, you're just,” you mutter, “you're such an asshole.”

“I know.” At first, you think he's being smug, but there's a surprising sense of remorse under it. You don't have time to think about it, though, not when his hand is cradling your face. There's no way he doesn't feel how hot your face is.

“What're you…?” His thumb passes over your lower lip, and the words fall away.

“Tell me you want this.” Your eyes flicker to his hand, then to his face. His other hand is at the top of your jeans, fingers resting on the edge of your waistband. Excited arousal hits your gut, sizzling like browning butter, warm and toasted. His eyes are dark, caramel on the verge of burning. “If you don't, I'll pretend like this never happened. I'll never touch you again.”

I'll never touch you again, he says, like it's not the last thing you'll ever want.

“I want this,” you murmur. “Touch me. Please.”

“Good,” Carmy praises, one quiet word enough to sear your insides with heat, blue flame on the underside of a pan. “That's what I thought.”

His hands slip behind you to untie your apron. The strings fall to your sides, and you tug it hastily up and over your head. It falls to the floor next to you. Surely that's a gigantic health hazard, but Carmy's the one who throws it there, so you don't say anything. You lower your gaze to his fingers unbuttoning your pants. The sight of it makes you woozy. You take note of his other tattoos, noticing the letters on his fingers. You watch as the stabbed hand made of ink on his right disappears under the cloth of your underwear.

“Oh,” you breathe. You didn't expect his hand to be so warm, even though you had just felt his heated palm gentle on your cheek.

“You're wet.” The tip of his index finger dips into where your hot folds separate. It strokes at the fluid that's pooled at your entrance, coaxing it out. “When did this happen?”

“Fuck you is when,” you bite back, but it's all bark. “I don't know.”

“Sure,” he agrees, but not really. His condescending smile shouldn't be hot, it really shouldn't, but your pussy throbs against his hand, and he smiles knowingly. “All you need is me to talk and you get wet, is that it?”

“I—” His finger rises upward, splitting you open and flicking at your clit. You buck against his hand. “Don't ask me a question and then touch me like that,” you hiss, horribly turned on.

“Mm, sorry.” It's barely an apology. You throw your head back in frustration. “I didn't mean to.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” you pant. He's pushed your slick up your pussy to your clit, two slick fingers sliding back and forth on your stiff nub. The pads of his calloused fingers are rubbing you almost where you're too sensitive.

“Then don't. I don't care what you think of me.” You think he's about to get his fingers inside of you, and your breath hitches, but he pulls back. You regret the frustrated whine that is just audible enough in the back of your throat. He does it again, just barely pushing the tips of fingers in before pulling away.

“You—why—do you want me to beg or something?” Your clenched hands raise by your sides to grip the collar of his white shirt and yank him forward. The shock that flashes across his face gives you a sick sense of satisfaction.

“It wouldn't hurt,” he mumbles. Seeing him stagger like this, even if briefly, sends a rush through your head.

“Is that what it's gonna take for you to get those fucking fingers inside me?”

Like a coward, instead of answering, he leans an inch forward and kisses you. Or maybe that was his answer. That's when he sinks two fingers inside you, long and thick, pushing until your wet pussy's pressed tight against his palm.

You moan, a pathetic thing, and Carmy swallows the sound of it.

“You're already begging,” he says quietly. He pulls his fingers out. You whine in protest, desperate and angry pleas on the tip of your tongue, but then he's pushing inside again.

That's the last moment of reprieve you get. His fingers start thrusting into you faster, dragging out slick each time he pulls them out. Paranoia suddenly screams that you’re gonna wet the front of your pants at this rate. The aching pleasure is louder than your fear, though. You can’t help the way his fingers are making you moan.

“More,” you plead, “give me another, I can take it.” Your hips are thrusting forward to meet his hand when they push inside. Your clit slaps against the heel of his palm, and you chase the friction. He must notice, because when he obliges and stretches you out with a third finger, he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit.

“You have to be quiet,” he says lowly when you keep moaning. “They’re gonna hear you.”

“I—I’m trying,” you whine. You’re squeezing so tight down on him. You feel so full. “Your fingers—“

“You’re the one who asked for more.” He slaps his other hands firmly over your mouth. It silences your sound of surprise. “You said you could take it, so here’s what’s gonna happen.” His fingers are slamming into your now, and your hole spasms around them in pleasure. “You’re gonna come on my fingers, and you’re gonna be quiet. Understand?”

You know how soundproof the walk-in is. You had just witnessed it moments ago. But Carmy’s warnings do something fierce to you, bypassing logic straight into anxious, desperate arousal. He’s right, you think. You need to be quiet. You nod quickly in response, so he takes your consent and sprints with it.

To your credit, you try to be quiet. You said you would. But there’s only so much you can do when he’s fingering you so hard your legs are shaking. You’re whimpering into his hand, the sounds muffled. Your own moans, his heavy breathing, and the slick sound of your pussy getting railed by his fingers—that’s what you listen to as you come.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing down tight,” Carmy hisses, and for an irrational second you’re afraid you’re hurting him, but one look at his starved expression changes your mind. His three wide fingers are fucking you slowly through your wildly contracting orgasm. In one of his palms, you're oozing slick, and in his other palm, you're smearing with spit.

You should be thinking about how bad of an idea this all is, having sex with your boss. It’s too bad your orgasm is so potent you can’t think at all.

You lean your head back against the cold metal railings of the wire racks behind you. It’s uncomfortable, but a part of it feels good against the coiling heat that’s unraveling in your stomach. The air around you is cold, but you’re hot, far too hot. You don’t remember the last time you’ve finished this hard.

He finally pries his hand off your mouth once you've stopped clamping down on his fingers. His hand lingers at your face before wiping it on the side of his jeans. His expression has this unreadable, unnamed intensity to it, and you can't tell where that ends and where the hunger starts. Although he is looking very, very starved.

His hand that's tucked into your underwear tugs it upward as it leaves, pulling the fabric taut against your pussy. It sticks like paper mache with the glue of your orgasm, molded to your shape. You make an aroused noise that's a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

You're about to complain, something along the lines of “was that really necessary”, but then your eyes are zeroed in on the sheen of his fingers that were fucking you.

“Don't,” you start, suddenly worried he's going to wipe them on his jeans again, but you don't get to finish. He's pushing his index finger into your mouth, and you taste yourself on his skin.

“Good,” Carmy whispers when he feels your tongue wrapping around him. Fuck, hearing him say it like that does awful things to you.

You don't know why you accept it without a fight, but if you're being honest with yourself, this is exactly what you wanted. You start to suck, but he doesn't linger. When he pulls his finger out, your parted lips expect the other two, but he sucks them into his mouth instead.

God. What do you even say to that? He even has the nerve to look you in the eyes as he pops his cleaned fingers out of his mouth.

“Let me touch you,” you decide to say instead, because if you think about him and his fingers in—anyway.

“It's fine. I don't need it.” He's oddly cagey all of a sudden.

“Let me return the favor, please,” you insist, even adding in some good manners. It seems to still him for a moment, giving you enough time to lift his apron.

Fuck, you think to yourself, the word resounding like an alarm inside your head. His jeans are tented so tightly it looks painful. All this from touching me, you realize. You can see the shape of his bulge under the denim. The silhouette is vague, but...

It's big.

“Carmy? You still in there?”

A voice you don't recognize calls out beyond the door. As soon as you both hear it, Carmy jerks away. You mourn the loss only for a moment before you remember yourself. You're scrambling to get your pants buttoned and your apron over your head.

“Yeah, I'm still in here,” Carmy shouts back, instantaneously irritable. His back is turned to you, and you want to feel those muscles tensing under your palm. “About fuckin’ time!”

“You're welcome, by the way! I could've left you in here to freeze and die a tragic death!”

“It's not just me in here, Fak.” A beat of silence. “Are you opening it?”

“Am I fucking—Jesus Christ, Carmen, just give me a second! I'm working my magic!”

That shuts Carmy up. Almost. He sighs before turning to look at you.

“Sorry for getting us stuck in here.” The apology is equally as surprising as the softness of which he speaks. “Shitty first day, huh?”

“It's cool. It's not your fault.” Other than all the shit that was completely your fault, you think, remembering the way you were shouting at each other just a moment ago. “Kinda shitty though, yeah.”

“Yeah.” He sighs again. “If you wanna leave, I don't blame you.”

“I thought I wasn't getting fired.”

“You're not,” he says quickly. “But I'm—this place is a shitshow.” You're not sure which he really means to say, but you hear both. The restaurant, and him especially, are both complete messes. That much was obvious from the beginning. “So if you wanna take off, just…” He shrugs. “Just go.”

Maybe that'd be for the best, if you left. As far as first days go, you've already broken every rule in the book. You messed up your first task, got into an argument with your boss, and then had sex with him. Nothing about this place is particularly inviting, either. This restaurant wears its dysfunction on its sleeve, unabashed in all the ways it lacks. You had left the kitchen with ringing ears from all the noise and a cut on your hand you didn't even notice.

But here you are. You're not running. Maybe it's because of the fact that you need to pay rent. Maybe it's knowing that just one more pair of hands here could really make a difference. Maybe you're just desperate to keep food on the table. Maybe it's Carmen Berzatto, beautiful, haunted, and angry. Maybe it's all of that, a combined whole that's become greater than the sum of its parts.

Or maybe it's just that now that you've kissed him, had a taste of him, you refuse to let go. Maybe the reason is as shallow as that.

Carmy's been waiting for you to speak, tired eyes searching your own. You're still not sure what exact colors you need to perfectly recreate the blue you're staring at.

“Almost done!” Fak shouts. “Just one more hinge!”

“Heard,” Carmy shouts back. He hasn't taken his eyes off you. “So? What's it gonna be? Are you staying or not?”

Blood orange, you think all of a sudden. That's the orange you would need to make the perfect blue to match his eyes. Just a little bit—that's all you would need.

“I'm staying,” you tell him. “I need to pay rent, after all.”

Yeah. That's the reasoning you're settling on. Rent.

“Right. Of course.” There's a glimpse of that gentle smile you've seen flashes of today. It fades away as quickly as it came. “After this, I'm gonna have you learn how to check produce next.”

“Okay, sounds good,” you say as naturally as you can, given the tonal whiplash.

“There should be some that's about to get washed. I'll show you where that is.” The door's shifting. “But before that…” He lowers his voice, leans in close. Is he about to kiss you?

“W-What?”

“Get a new apron from my office. That one's dirty.” Beams of light stream through the entrance of the walk-in, forced wide open. “You need to keep your apron clean, chef.”

YOU WERE THE ONE WHO THREW IT ON THE GROUND, you want to scream. Just when you thought he started being nice, he does something that makes you want to grab him by the collar and shake him.

But you can't. The walk-in's open again, and you see your coworkers crowded by the door.

“Yes, chef,” you reply, and the words taste bitter on your tongue.

@zorrasucia

255 notes · View notes

badchoicesworld · 9 months

Note

Heyyyy I really love ur writing! And also kind of ur vibe as a person 😳 but anyway!

Since you said we can be specific, I wanted to ask about Hobie getting a just a little bit flustered when receiving genuine heartfelt compliments and affection through words bc it catches him off guard. He'd also find the reader a bit naive at first only to find out that they're actually incredibly cunning and calculated. They just come across as naive bc they're so ridiculously sweet once they trust someone :3 (and it always looks like they trust quickly bc they have insane psychoanalytic abilities but now I'm rambling;;; (⁠´⁠⊙⁠ω⁠⊙⁠`⁠)! )

Hope this isn't too much ^^"

hobie realises you’re not as naive as he thought

hobie brown x gn!reader

omggg 😳 tyy anonnnn you got me blushing n shit 🤭 but no fr, ty that’s so sweet lmao <33 and no, this was perfect, ily

warnings: none

pairing: hobie brown x gn!reader

requests: masterlist plz

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

on first inspection, to hobie, you appear to be this person that trusts way too easily and immediately treats people way too kind for a person you just met- you seem clueless and completely naive when it comes to putting your trust in others since you’re so quick to do it

hobie doesn’t think it’s a bad trait at all to be inherently kind, but when you’re kind to literally everyone you immediately deem trustworthy, it’s like you’re looking to get hurt

he might occasionally have one of his rants to you about the ins and outs of the “real world”, propaganda that surrounds you, distracting you from the truth, the sharks at the top of it all, the people that would take advantage of you

there’s no ill intent, he just really thinks you’re gonna get hurt like that

and who wants that ?

so yeah, anyway, when he first meets you, he can basically see the switch once you’ve realised he’s trust worthy

you’re the sweetest person ever without prompt, and it admittedly looks like nativity to him at first

but because you now trust him, it means you’ll be a sweetheart to him

at first, it’s small compliments that he can appreciate- maybe something about his style or rebellious attitude that he’s heard all before

but you suddenly amp it up for no reason one day and it just completely turns the tides

if you’re aware of his secret identity, you change his perception of you completely when you basically soul read him

you manage to craft the most heartfelt, genuine, sincere acknowledgement of the sacrifices he’s made, along with genuine thanks and somehow stating the closest interpretation of his emotions that he’s ever heard before. from someone that isn’t him, anyway

hell, you’ve maybe even just helped him realise a few things about himself

he’s fucking gobsmacked

he stares at you as if you’ve just said the most outrageous but enlightening thing ever to be uttered

slack jawed, eyes wide, completely silenced for a solid while

he’s eventually able to process wtf you just said to him, and now he’s just trying to play it off with a really goofy grin that doesn’t hide he’s flustered

hobie’s doing all sorts with his hands to try distract the both of you- gestures while he tried to defend the little of his pride he has left, holding the back of his neck, maybe nudging you or shaking your whole frame

he gets the faintest idea that you might be just a little less naive than he though, but not entirely

that might have just been a lucky guess, after all

you’re definitely smarter in his eyes, though

depending on your status, if you’re a spider-person, from a different dimension, from his dimension- it doesn’t matter, he’s intrigued by you now

might brag a bit or be like “can you believe this?” when he sees you soul reading someone else

now there’s been multiple times throughout your guys’ friendship where you manage to slap him with some ungodly wisdom relating to him out of absolutely nowhere, and it never fails to catch him off guard

of course, hobie’s effortlessly cool, so being caught off guard is gonna keep making him feel a little vulnerable and flustered

especially when you just casually do one of the most in depth psychoanalysis of him ever for like the third time this week

he’s starting to think that you know something the rest of the multiverse doesn’t, how do you do that ?

“alright, alright! allow it, man, allow it.”

he’s laughing, but he’s also questioning where you stand in the world, are you secret intelligence ? tf is goin on

if you weaponise this ability to read people like an open book, then he can have fun with it

now it’s funny

especially if you guys are spider-people together and he just casually points out a villain you’ve been assigned to, with a look that says “ruin them”

this can also happen to random people on the street

it’s like how he can completely destroy peoples perception and faith in the establishment n all that, if you so choose, you can really make people feel seen or completely vulnerable or called out

after these encounters with bad people, he realises something about you

you’re somehow able to just know who to trust, and your guts never wrong

he wonders if it’s your spider-sense at first, if you have that

now he’s starting to piece everything together

you can easily distinguish between the good and bad people- the good you immediately trust and treat like an old friend

the bad, you never give the time of day

you’re always so quick to trust, and naive

but it’s starting to become clear to hobie that this isn’t nativity, you just have an uncanny ability to know people before they even introduce themselves

it’s kind of reassuring in a way, if he’s ever doubtful about someone, he’ll go to you and be like “thoughts?” then you can relay this insanely detailed psychoanalysis of this person you’ve just met

now he sees you as this incredibly insightful person, a lovely individual who has the potential to ruin lives with your insane ability to call people out

bonus:

if you guys are spider-people together, you’re both pretty well known for running your mouths

you instil fear

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

as always, lemme know if this ate or not and i’ll try my best to fix it !

#across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #headcanon #imagine #oneshot #ask #hobie brown #atsv hobie #hobie spiderverse #hobie brown x reader #hobie x you #hobie x y/n #hobie x reader #hobie x gn!reader #hobie x gender neutral reader #hobie brown x gender neutral reader #hobie brown x gn!reader #spider punk

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robitherat · 22 days

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Thinking about the fact that most of Tims character arch is based around him actually dealing with the things from his past

Like a major part of tims character is his denial of the things that happened to him-- his repression of memories, chalking things up to hallucinations, suffering in silence, brushing off any concern from those around him ("Tim what's that?" "Just some medicine I need to take" "Are you sick, do you need to go home?" "No I'm fine.") The fact that he never mentioned his medical history or his time at the hospital to Jay until he was basically forced to.

And what was it that finally made him tell Jay about the hospital? The operator directly attacking him and making him relive scenes from his past. It wasn't until he was forced to realize what was at stake, forced to essentially confront the danger he was in by bottling up his past, that he willingly (at least somewhat) shared that information with someone. I do like to think that maybe Tim opened up to Brian in college, but as far as cannon evidence, we only really see Tim willingly talking to Jay about it. Brian knew, sure, but it's just as easy to assume he found that after the fact-- that he caught Tim in the lie, rather than Tim telling him outright.

And Tim really isn't a great liar, either. Like I know we talk about Jay being a little bit of an idiot (rightfully so) but Tim's main course of lying is. The most obvious deflection in the world. When Jay mentions the tape in his house, Tim's response is to immediately deflect ("I'm a little more worried about my house right now.") which would be a smaller thing if Tim wasn't intimately aware of how important it was to find and watch any tapes they possibly could. Tim's only method to coping with things that happen to him and the people around him is through denial, even in times when it would be infinitely more beneficial to acknowledge the issue at hand.

What's even more interesting to me is that Tim is seemingly the only character that makes any genuine progress in fighting against the operator. But that comes with the caveat that Tim is only able to do so when he actually confronts the operator, and by association, the issues of his past.

The only way he and Jay are able to make amends and move on is by Tim telling Jay about the hospital, which was only spurred on by Tim being forced to relive his trauma. Right after Tim tells Jay to stay out his life, he (by force of tta) has a relapse and ends up paired with Jay anyways. The only way he's able to get Jay and himself away from Alex's house in one piece is by literally physically standing up to the operator. In the fight against Alex, the whole time he's being ported around, he is monologuing about his past-- he's finally acknowledging the things that happened to him, that they weren't his fault, that they affect other people, and that violence isn't the answer to dealing with them-- that isolating yourself and denying the truth of what's happening isn't the answer.

And of course this is all tied back to the metaphor of mental illness: the fact that you cannot deny the things that have happened to you if you have any hope of moving on from them. you can't lash out or harm others because of your trauma if you have any hope of moving past it. The reason Jay, Brian, and ultimately Alex all died is because they were incapable of facing their issues head on; they all turned to anger, isolation, violence, and otherwise feeding into what the operator wanted, or alternatively, feeding into the misery spiral of their mental illness, rather than finding healthy coping mechanisms to heal from and move on from it.

God I need to write a full analysis essay about him OKAY I'm ending it here these aren't all my thoughts this doesn't make sense but I'm ending it here thank you for watching goodbye

#robi rambles #marble hornets #tim wright #jay merrick #mh spoilers #i love him i love tim i love him #i hope creepy swes this creepy this ones for you i hope you like my tim meta ^-^

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sunshine-jesse · 5 months

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The Incest End is Not The Bad End, Part 3: The Only End I Know For Real

Alt title: We're roleplaying the endings, not choosing them.

I've focused a lot before on how sickly sweet the chemistry between Ashley and Andrew is and how unproblematic their relationship would actually be under different circumstances, mostly societal ones. I mostly did so to counter the idea that the incest end was primarily a bad end and bring up the assertion that it was the one with the most hope. In doing so, I basically interpreted all of the text within the game in a very positive light, giving off the impression that I think it'll be all sunshine and roses. The reality couldn't be further from the truth? While I think it's the end with the most hope, I ALSO think it'll be incredibly difficult for everyone involved.

As a matter of fact, I think the Questionable end will be the most difficult one to navigate through for Ashley herself.

"But wait," you say, alarm bells ringing in your head, "doesn't she literally fucking die in the Decay ending?"

And I don't think it's that obvious.

First off, why do I think the Questionable end will be difficult to navigate through? After all, Andrew is calm, collected, and Ashley is just a little bit nervous about how he's changing. She also has that ultimate leverage over him, knowing that he's sexually attracted to her and she can use it to keep him by her side. There's little for anyone to worry about, right? Well, no. Not really. As another analyst has pointed out, in the Questionable ending, Ashley has no OTHER leverage over Andrew.

The trinket? Shown to be only situationally useful to them. The future visions don't always show danger, sometimes the demon can just troll them. Sleep? No, he no longer needs Ashley for that. A scapegoat? Not even that. In the Burial ending, he starts to take responsibility for the violence he inflicts on others and has no need to pin the blame on Ashley.

Outside of sex, Ashley is more or less useless to him now, at least in her own mind. Truthfully, Ashley is still the most important person in the world to Andrew and doesn't seem to need a reason to keep her around anymore, but Ashley doesn't realize that; it's part of why she's so confused and uncertain. Their dynamic is changing, and she doesn't like it. But in the Questionable ending, all Andrew has to do is not have sex with Ashley (easier said than done if the fanbase [myself] is any indication) and she'll have nothing left. She'll likely have no other choice but to look inward at this point, especially if Andrew doesn't give off any of the usual red flags that make her think he'd leave her.

There's a good chance at this point that their dynamic will flip entirely. Ashley will be the one who needs comfort, and Andrew shows every indication of being emotionally stable enough to provide it. We'll see some Real Mental Illness instead of Possible To Infer But Maybe Problematic To Do So Mental Illness. Whether or not she changes for the better or worse will likely determine the ending we'll get.

…

Except probably not.

Sane vs Questionable can't be THAT different, or we'd be getting 3A, 3B, 3C, and 3D instead of 3A and 3B. And, y'know what? Now I'm gonna start reaching really hard into theory territory rather than just analysis. So, hear me out here.

Both dreams are canon no matter the ending. The only difference is whether or not Andrew sleeps or not; if he does, the vision he gets is for HIM, and Ashley only incidentally sees it. It's much more important to him than to Ashley, because Ashley doesn't get a clear vision like she did in the motel. If them fucking was actually relevant to Ashley, she likely would've seen it no matter the ending. Her reactions reflect this; at first, she appears weirded out, maybe uncomfortable. Then she finds it hilarious. She considers it as a means of manipulation, sure, but the writing is on the wall: She won't NEED to do so no matter what.

Unfortunately, due to her not being able to open both doors, she won't be able to realize this. Oops!

At this point in time it's basically impossible to ascertain what her own personal vision means. I've given my interpretation before, but I ultimately have my doubts that the specific sequence of events is all to relevant. Most weird dream metaphors are clear parallels to past events, but the dream seems to be a metaphor for what the future will hold. The most relevant part is not the ghosts, but instead how Ashley reacts to what is clearly Andrew's soul. She jokes about trapping it in the bottle, but it being as a joke more than anything is a far cry from how desperate her attempts to keep him normally seem. So what gives? What does this mean?

I think, funnily enough, the Decay ending holds the answer.

My most-distanced-from-a-literal-or-metaphorical-reading-of-the-text-but-is-relatively-easy-to-accept theory is that the choices we are given in the game aren't asking us what we want to see from them, but rather, how we see the characters and their relationship. People are distracted by the idea of choice, but the reality is that we're being asked to roleplay (this is an RPG after all) as the siblings and do what we expect them to do. This isn't about choice. This is about BEING them and DOING WHAT WE THINK THEY'D DO.

Here's what I mean.

If we interpret Ashley as having trust in Andrew and his judgment, then it makes perfect sense she'd trust him with her parents. She might be a little worried, but it's pretty clear that her overwhelming desire to keep Andrew by her side is underscored by genuine love and trust. From there, if we interpret Andrew as having genuine love for his sister and a desire to take care of her, then it becomes everyone else's problem that they can't be together; not his. In killing their parents, he comes to terms with this and self-actualizes. He's willing to take responsibility for the violence he inflicts on others and has no discomfort with dismembering them.

But if you interpret Andrew as viewing Ashley as a burden and a problem, he can't bring himself to save their parents and have a better life because he views himself as too far gone. He hates himself as much as Ashley hates herself for being unable to break free from her influence. He still feels like she's his responsibility, but the love that exists there is greatly muted and overshadowed by his sense of responsibility and a carnal, physical desire for her. Knowing this is likely part of the reason he hates himself; part of the reason he can't let go.

He, crucially, also squanders Ashley's genuine display of trust. It's HIS fault that things break apart, which is why the skull appears over his head when you accept the mom's offer. Ashley genuinely, seriously loves Andrew and wants what's best for him. She's posessive, but her care is a lot less selfish than Andrew thinks, and he can't see that because he's too blinded by his hatred and (partially sexual) frustration to see who she really is.

On the other side of things, if you view Ashley as being a primarily toxic influence that views Andrew as more of an object than anything, she doesn't trust Andrew to deal with their parents and it's HER fault that things break apart, as the skull appears over her head. She sees him as an object, as a child or toy. She sees him as Andy, not Andrew, and can't process the fact that he can change. It's very overbearingly maternalistic, and I believe this specific choice is the only one where Ashley is actually more like their mother than Andrew, eye colors be damned.

In Burial, she wants to share the vision with Andrew, and he wants to share it with her, because their feelings are genuine and mutual and they want to share the experience (because they might get two visions from it, sure, but the principle isn't that much different) But in Decay, she keeps it to herself. She doesn't trust him or his input, either because she doesn't view his feelings as important or because he either almost squandered her trust (if she was listening in), or because he was generally hostile and disincentivized her from wanting to share.

There are other examples too, like when we're allowed to control Andrew to kill the hitman. If we view him as unprepared or unwilling to kill, we empty the whole clip because he's nervous and doesn't want to do this. If we view him as prepared, calm, and in control, he kills in one clean shot without much of an issue. Washing the [REDACTED] out of the shower drain? We basically get to see if Ashley is actually all that competent at housework or not, and if we don't know the right order, neither does she.

This comes to a head in both of the endings.

In the Questionable ending, we're shown that Andrew slept through the dream. We see what he really wants and the depths of his true feelings. He has very obvious romantic feelings for Ashley, and it's not just physical desire. Ashley's very obviously obsessed with Andrew still, but the fact that he can be present in every painting shows that she ACTUALLY views him that way. She's not just seeking validation; her feelings are real, and she knows it.

Remember, this dream is SHARED. We are seeing how BOTH of them feel.

In the Sane ending, Andrew isn't present, and Ashley is never given a chance to view their relationship as anything other than platonic. We don't know how Andrew feels, and we're arguably never given a view into Ashley's true feelings either, because that would-be revelation is cut off by a vision (indicated by eyes). We're just shown what she should do, needs to do, or will do.

Because we don't view their relationship as romantic, light is never shone on the reality of their dynamic. We never see how obsessed Ashley really is (if anything, we're being misdirected by being shown the opposite), and we never see that Andrew has romantic- if buried- feelings for Ashley that can't just be passed off as carnal physical desire. But since it's still the Burial ending, the dynamic still clearly exists; the endings would be too different otherwise. We CHOSE how we see their dynamic in the basement scene.

In other words…

Without love, the truth cannot be seen.

Reader who is in the know: "…hey wait a fuckin' minute" Me: "MOVING ON"

At some point- probably early on- the Sane and Questionable endings have to converge. Andrew and Ashley will have to have the nature of their dynamic laid out for them in a way they can't deny, and the likely only difference between Sane and Questionable will be whether or not Andrew is surprised/embarrassed, or just goes "I guess that dickhead demon wasn't just tricking us after all" and then the route will proceed as normal. Whether or not they have sex will likely be determined by your choices in Chapter 3 itself rather than Chapter 2 with this in mind. Either way, I think Ashley will go through most of the chapter confused and uncertain and will be forced to develop as a person, for better or worse.

In the Decay ending, as said, we're shown that Ashley doesn't even attempt to share a vision with Andrew, so we get to see a vision where Ashley's frame of mind isn't one driven by mutual affection. In this route, we see Ashley constantly running from -something,- and given dreams are metaphors, I think it's reasonable to assume that it's showing us that Ashley is primarily motivated by a fear of Andrew. Fear of what, exactly, isn't really clear; we know for a fact that she's afraid of losing him, but she's also afraid of the violence he can inflict upon her. Either way, she runs away, we can see the demon say "hmmm how interesting," and then we get a vision of the future.

But it's important to note, that vision is a metaphor, not a literal vision of the future. It takes place in the dream world- unlike any other vision, which takes place in the real world- and there are no out-of-frame eyes in the CGs like there are in the Questionable route. Also, (albeit less convincingly), all the eyes are in the background rather than on the map themselves, like they are when we see the hitman vision. The eyes only exist in the background in the Sane vision too, further adding to the idea that they're a metaphor.

So. If it's not a literal depiction of what will happen, then what exactly is it a metaphor for? Okay. Hear me out. This is my wildest fucking theory yet.

It's a metaphor for the Burial route. Or rather, the kind of event that happened in the Burial route.

What we are being shown in the metaphor is a reconciliation of their relationship, where their true feelings are laid bare. We are put in a situation where they are forced to decide how they feel for each other once and for all. If Andrew holds all the power in the relationship but has no control or awareness of his feelings- represented by whether he was composed enough or not to unload his entire clip-, he unceremoniously kills Ashley. Without that awareness, Ashley cannot even defend herself. She has no control because she isn't dealing with someone who has any either.

(Whether he actually kills Ashley or just some abstract representation of Leyley isn't clear, but it doesn't matter much for the purpose of analysis.)

But if Andrew does have that awareness of his feelings- represented by only shooting one bullet- they can negotiate. Because Andrew is in control, Ashley is also in control, and she can make one of two choices:

She can choose to save herself (and either maintain the status quo or just fucking kill Andrew depending on how literal the vision is). With this choice, she lets her fear overtake her and discards Andrew- the cause of her fear- like trash. He is an object that only exists for her sake, after all, and she can discard him just as easily as he seemed like her could discard her during the strangulation scene.

She can choose to trust and accept Andrew. And given a heart appears over her head, she can choose to love him, and overcome her fear, even at the cost of either her life or their prior dynamic (once more, depending on how literal it is).

Decay is asking us if we think Ashley is primarily motivated by selfish fear or genuine selfless love. But both exist either way, and their relationship must be understood and reconciled at some point; this route might honestly be their only hope for a platonic good ending, but it's going to be dismal and painful either way.

So with that in mind, why is the gun not relevant to the Burial route (yet) if it's such a strong metaphor?

Because the reconciling event WAS the basement scene.

We had to make that same choice there. Was Ashley too afraid of Andrew's interaction with her parents to let him handle it? Or did she love and trust him enough to make that choice? In choosing yes, the ball in Andrew's court. If he chooses to care for her needs, their relationship evolves. If he or Ashley refuse make that choice, that can is kicked down the road, and their relationship continues to deteriorate.

Or decay, as it may.

But in Burial, with that reconciling event having happened, the ball is in Ashley's court. With Andrew having come to terms with many of his feelings (minus his sexual desire), most of his arc is finished. There's probably still a lot of him to unpack on the Burial route, but in the Decay ending, as long as Ashley shows love for him, the final choice always falls on his shoulders. And with his final choice having been made in Burial, all that's left is Ashley's.

And what final choice will she have to make?

I don't know, I'm not a prophet.

But either way, she'll still have to make the choice of whether or not to be ruled by her fear of losing him, and desperately try to grasp for control she no longer needs, or cast aside that fear and allow for genuine, mutual love to flourish. Think about it this way: When you see a corpse, how do you react? If you don't care for the corpse or fear it, you stay away and let it decay. If the corpse belongs to someone you love, you tend to it and bury it.

And what do I think the best case scenario is? Well, I've made my opinion obvious, but I think there's one final thing I need to emphasize:

You don't claw at someone's back like a wild fucking animal if you're not really into it.

#andrew graves #ashley graves #the coffin of andy and leyley #gravecest #tcoaal #tcoaal essay

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lowkeyrobin · 9 days

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hello ! i was wondering if you would be able to write a fic of Percy ( PJO ) befriending a child of ares reader ( or hypnos , either is fine ! ). If you are not able to, that is alright as well! Have a great day / night !

- 🗡️

hi 🗡!! of course I could! I did child of hypnos because I thought it was cooler and shit idrk ; also gave reader some little sleep powers cause why not ; have a good day/night to you as well! ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy!

PERCY JACKSON ; slumbering demi-god

summary ; you meet good old Percy Jackson and helped him when he couldn't sleep

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; Percy is a little ooc but I was attempting to make him a little bit older (about 14-16 but no like danger or quests to go on yk)

word count ; 710

masterlist

"Oh, shit, I'm so sorry!" You exclaim, holding your shoulder after accidently walking into another camper.

"You're fine, sorry, that was my fault" He awkwardly smiles, "You okay?"

"Yeah, sorry"

"What's your name? I don't think I've seen you before?" The boy asks, pushing his curly blonde hair away from his face.

"Y/n" You answer, rubbing your eyes a bit, "Sorry, really drowsy this morning"

"You say sorry a lot"

"I know, jackass"

"Gods, okay, damn"

"Oh, yeah, I know Y/n" Annabeth nods, "They're a child of Hypnos, like, the personification of sleep and slumber"

Percy nods, humming in response. "So, like, they just sleep a lot?"

"They can make people sleep slash fall into a deep slumber on command, basically. But they have to sleep a lot to keep themselves charged"

"Huh, interesting," Percy shrugs. "Like how I just drink gallons of water every day to keep myself hydrated? And somehow I don't fall ill to water poisoning?"

"Yeah, something like that, Perc"

You roll your eyes, sending the young camper to sleep on command with a wave of your fingers. "Sorry, but I'm not dealing with cranky kids in the morning"

You sigh, retrieving outside to get a breath of air before heading to bed.

"Hey, Y/n!" You hear a slightly familiar voice call.

You quickly turn your head toward the source of the sound, that kid you bumped into earlier today. He still wears the same orange Camp Half-Blood shirt, his blonde curls a mess upon his head now.

"Hi?" You reply, more like a question if anything. "I don't know your name, so-"

"Percy" He answers, "So, like, you can make people sleep on command?"

"Mhm," You hum, "What? You need some sleep?"

Percy awkwardly rubs the nape of his neck with a sideways smile. "Uh, yeah. Kinda, yeah"

You softly smile, walking down to him. "You're lucky I'm not forcing you to sleep right here, Percy. Lead the way home"

He spins on his heels, leading you toward the Poseidon cabin, which he ran and was the only resident of. He welcomes you in, apologizing for the mess of empty water bottles across the floor.

"Gods, how much water do you drink?" You ask him, picking a few up to throw them away. You were not navigating through that whole maze at a time like this.

"Uh, a lot," He answers, not really giving a definite explanation. "Sorry for this, by the way. I just haven't been able to sleep recently-"

"It's fine." You shrug, tossing the empty bottles into the bin. "What I'm here for, right?" You smile, re-tying the drawstrings on your pajama pants. "You can like, lay down, unless you're planning to sleep on the floor"

He nods, climbing into his bed. Halfway through the motion, you wave your fingers, and into slumber, he falls. His blanket is halfway draped over him, his arm hanging over the side of the bed.

"Night-night, Percy"

"Y/n!"

"Hey, Percy"

"You couldn't have at least let me get covered?"

"I'd quiet down, Percy"

"You-" He groans, "You know what I meant"

"You wanted to sleep, no?"

"I meant you probably could've waited for me to actually get in my bed before spelling me to sleep with your fantasy fairy powers," He clarifies.

You shrug, leaning against the fence outside your cabin. "You got what you wanted, Jackson"

His eyebrows quickly furrow, "I never told you my last name"

"It's almost like you're a camp hero, dude" You playfully roll your eyes. "How'd you sleep?"

Percy opened his mouth to speak but was quickly stopped, realizing that you had the advantage here and he'd already lost.

"Good" He admits.

"Just good?"

"Great, actually"

"Will you be recommending my services to other people? On a scale of one to ten, how likely is that?" You ask, mocking some trivia at the end of an online therapy session.

"Oh, definitely an eleven. I'll get you more money and clients, don't worry."

"Yeah, sure, buddy"

"Buddy?"

"I'm testing the waters to see how much I can annoy you"

Percy sighs with a laugh choking him, "I like you Y/n"

"Yeah, you're cool, Jackson"

"Okay, that's just kinda creepy."

"Okay, that's too far but not buddy?"

#lowkeyrobin #gender neutral reader #gn reader #they/them reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #walker scobell x reader #walker scobell #gn! reader #pjo x gn reader

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luvhughes43 · 1 year

Text

your boy can't read ! | trevor zegras x author!reader

luvhughes43 masterlist🌷

ynoffical

Liked by trevorzegras, jackbenedwards, and others

ynofficial my weekend☕️📖💐

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stephbohrer ❤️❤️

fan01 writing your next book right?😁

fan02 we want something happy this time !

fan01 no.

jackbenedwards lets go book shopping once you're back in nyc

ynoffical of course! ill text u💗

trevorzegras yaba daba doo☕️

liked by ynoffical

fan03 whatever the hell that means

trevorzegras

Liked by ynofficial, jamie.drysdale, and others

trevorzegras coolest place in the world⚡️

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_quinnhughes who wrote your caption? why does it actually make sense for once

trevorzegras i take offence to that.

fan04 the fact that the caption is so simple and quinns saying that😭😭

fan05 i'm going to be honest i never have any idea what trev is talking about liked by ynoffical

jackhughes interesting... 🤔

jamie.drysdale what happened to cereal being your ideal meal?

trevorzegras i'm a changed man🫡

ynoffical cute house!

liked by trevorzegras

ynfan now hold on...🧐

ynoffical

liked by jackhughes, trevorzegras, and others

ynoffical had some time off🌞🎨

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fan05 WHO IS THAT???

fan06 why are a bunch of nhl players liking..🧐

jackhughes im still so confused about this whole thing

ynofficial confused ? were in love😁🙏💗

jackhughes you know he can't read right?

ynofficial i know😞💔

trevorzegras you know i was just thinking and i think your bf is an excellent reader... like hes probably so good its shocking

ynoffical no i was actually just thinking that he can't

fan07 STAY FOCUSED ON THE BOOK QUEENIE DON'T LET THE BOYS DISTRACT U💪🔥‼️

trevorzegras

liked by ynoffical, masonmctavish23, and others

trevorzegras reading very seriously.

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jackhughes no i dont think you are

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trevorzegras WTF STOP??

ynoffical happy to see you're finally learning how to read❤️

trevorzegras what if this was my last straw?

fan08 you're the lea michelle of hockey babes its okay! not everybody has to know how to read❤️

anaheimducks so proud of our Z🧡

hockeyfan: nawww even his team is setting him up😭

oldman get ur ass back on the ice you do NOT need to be reading.

ynoffical

liked by trevorzegras, uncarley, and others

ynoffical totally normal weekly update

tagged trevorzegras

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fan09 HOLD ON????

trevorzegras 🤔🤔

jackhughes the last slide says: 👁❤️🫵 (I love Trevor Zegras) hope this helps❤️ liked by ynoffical

trevorzegras 😐

stepbroher you're really living out the hockey romance fantasy wow

ynoffical waiting for u to release your own hockey book🙏

fan10 does this mean the next book is a romance?😁

ynoffical 🤭🤭

trevorzegras i love you too

ynoffical i love u so much its crazy

trevorzegras i love you so much i read a book

jackhughes correction: he learnt how to read

trevorzegras STOP GO AWAY!

trevorzegras

liked by ynoffical, jackhughes, and others

trevorzegras you make it so easy to love 🧡🧡

tagged ynoffical

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ynoffical 💗💗

liked by trevorzegras

jackhughes so glad ynoffical can speak emojis! otherwise you guys wouldn't be able to text each other

trevorzegras jackhughes you make me sick.

fan11 z baby look at me this isn't you...

colecaufield u guys look great💤

jamie.drysdale i'm actually surprised and i've known this whole time

masonmctavish23 i didn't think he had it in him

fan12 NOOOO THIS CANT BE HAPPPENING TO ME😭🙏

ynoffical just posted a story!

caption: lover boy🫂🤍 (aka the love of my life)

jackhughes replied: if only trevvy could read that😪❤️

trevorzegras replied: calling u in 5 🧡🧡 love you

#trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #jamie drysdale x reader #mason mctavish x reader #cole caufield x reader #insta edit #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl blurb

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kiestrokes · 8 months

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i like had this thought in the back of my head of like what ateez would be like with an S/O who has a physical illness bcs i actually have one which causes a lot of pain to my bones and i'm like in a constant state of pain and discomfort, been going on for about 12 years HELL YA ✊🏻, if i don't keep up on my meds (currently don't have the proper meds so it only tides me over for a little while-) then im basically fucked so IDK i feel like there isn't a lot of stuff written about this kind of stuff (im a sucker for shit i hardly ever am able to read abt) ALSO IM NOT 100% SURE IF YOUR REQS WERE OPEN BCS I DIDNT SEE ANYTHING POSTED ABT IT SO- YA- if you don't want to write it obviously you don't have to !! no pressure at all lovely

ATEEZ Caring for You: Chronic Illness Edition | SFW

Pairing: ATEEZ x Gender Neutral!Reader/You/Yn Rating: SFW Genre: fluff, slice of life, headcanons, imagines, scenarios. Warnings: chronic illness + immunocompromised talk.

🗝️ Note: Hey atiny anon! You actually asked the right person; I have fibromyalgia combined with a few other annoying chronic illnesses. Because you can't just have one 😓 I hope that you can find a decent fucking doctor and get on the proper medication soon. That's the biggest part of the struggle, finding a physician that will listen and is competent enough. I hope this was enough, I tried to assign each member a caring task that I felt fit them! Has not been beta-ed.

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted below.

Seonghwa

He’s here to help you prevent all the chronic pain that he can. Booking you massage visits. Trips to the hot springs. All the arnica rubs. Silly little games the two of you play, to keep your mind off the pain and depression spirals. His favorite is seeing who can build their new Lego set the quickest. Hwa is the biggest advocate for you, he would never return a dish at the restaurant when its wrong. But he will fight for you at every appointment, every pharmacy, wherever you need him to. Because he knows you've grown tired of fighting all the time.

Hongjoong

HJ's specialty is flexibility. You have a sudden burst of energy? He’s down to go explore that new pop-up market with you. You’ve come down with a bout of bone numbing pain? That’s cool, you’re getting changed into comfy clothes and piled up on the couch. Swaddled in your heating pad with all the snacks. Where he falls asleep on your shoulder. HJ never gets frustrated with your rapid change in mood or plans. Nothing but the most understanding partner you could ever have asked for, and boy is he so cute and snuggly when dozing on you. Small hands seeking your face for drowsy kisses that soothe your aches just a smidge.

Yunho

The quiet presence, the one who knows what you need before you say it. Passing you tissues, making you a cup of tea and most importantly holding you so that you can cry. Shedding angry tears about how frustrated you are with your own body for betraying you. For feeling weak. For missing out on things. He's gently calming every frayed nerve in your brain. Reassuring you that you're exactly where you need to be in this moment, and he will bring all of the fun to you. And he does, in small, manageable doses.

Yeosang

His way of caring for you is through caring for your outside. All the skin masks, hair treatments, skin softening lotions because if you feel cruddy, at least he can make you feel cute and comfortable. They do heal though, in their own way. The extra moisture of the humidifier and every cream and essence he buffs into your skin helps keep some of the aches away. Subsiding the itchiness of the nerve pain, just a little. And you can’t get over how cute Yeosang looks in each animal themed headband or with his hair tied back into teeny space buns or how nice his hands feel every time they glide over your skin.

San

Where Yunho is quietly attentive, San is passionately attentive. You cry, he cries (while holding you). Quite literally your pain, is his pain and he’s here to be with you through each step. No judgment is ever passed when he has to pick up your extra chores around the house. Because to him, that is the smallest act of service he can perform for you. San is the one who wishes he could take on your pain, that he could fight it and destroy it and it pains him that he cannot. So he will simply have to do everything else.

Mingi

He thrives on making you laugh and smile through tough days, because he understands feeling burdensome. Mingi never wants you to feel that way, he wants to make sure you verbally know that your presence is needed and welcome. His favorite thing is cuddled up in bed with you wrapped in your heated blanket watching shows. You looking so small in his arms, giving him the feeling of protecting something. He reassures you constantly, because he himself seeks constant reassurance. Mingi never tires of this, he will reaffirm every single self deprecating thought with a compliment even on his worst days.

Wooyoung

He cares for you with his skinship, which is incredibly healing. His happy heartbeat encourages yours. His strong hands make you feel loved and needed. Who would cuddle him if not you? Woo often reminds you, whispering the phrase into your ear as he traces his nails through your hair, or while rhythmically drawing circles on your spine. Making you float into dream land and anchoring you in the moment with him at the same time. Woo also loves making you whatever dish you’re craving, knowing you need energy to fight off fatigue and pain. And cooking is one of his many, many love languages.

Jongho

Needing to hoard all the extra rest you can get; you seek out solace at Jongho’s place for nap time. Jongho has taken notice, he’s also taken inventory as to which blankets of his you prefer, the pillows that keep you asleep the longest, what temperature you prefer the room to be based on what you’re wearing. All your favorite snacks before or after. New blackout curtains. He’s made his place your ultimate nap zone. New heated blankets. Duplicates of your fave lounge wear and socks. And he takes his payment in cuddles. Holding you tightly in his bed or sprawled on the couch. Sometimes he falls asleep himself and flips you onto your back to bury into your side like a full-sized teddy bear.

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scekrex · 15 days

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tw (depression)

hello would you be interested in writing about sinner!Adam becoming best friend with a touch averse kind of depressed male sinner!reader who works at the hazbin hotel (and is secretly touch starved) and then starting to have a crush on him cause he’s the only one who doesn’t want to kill him on sight and he’s able to babysit him and care for him without asking for anything in return. Maybe the friendship process and how Adam tries to flirt with him? Sorry for the wall of text and thanks

Okay so reader being touch starved is only heavily implied by Adam constantly touching him, hope that works! Also never apologize for being specific when it comes to requests - the longer the better <3 also his flirting is low-key awkward bc I headcanon Adam to not do well with rejection - especially when he's seriously interested in someone.

You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, mentions & symptoms of depression

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Adam hated everything down there in hell, from the hotel, over its residents all the way to Lucifer. He deeply hated every single sinner in this shithole and his heart longed for the safe walls of heaven that protected him from the filth. And the worst part was that he wasn’t even able to fully relax when he spent his days at the hotel, how could he when everyone wanted him dead - even Charlie, not that she’d ever admit let alone act on it.

But then there was you, a random guy Adam had never noticed before. He had not seen you during the battle, or maybe he had seen you and had just been too busy to focus on a sinner as unimportant as you. But now that he called the hotel his home, he was quite grateful for your company. Because while hell itself sucked and caused waves of tiredness and sadness to wash over him every now and then, you were the one that could get rid of those gray rain clouds for him. You weren’t a sunshine like Charlie, the exact opposite was the case. You had your fair share of problems to deal with, one of said problems was the fact that you suffered from depression - not that this illness would make you special or whatever, many people in hell suffered from it. Hell and depression sort of came in a package deal. Yet Adam made it a little easier to deal with - a thing you had never ever imagined you’d admit to.

A nice thing that came hand in hand with the friendship that grew between you and Adam was how touchy the first man was, he somehow had his hands on you constantly. When he’d walk past you he’d ruffle your hair, when you were sitting on the couch he would sit down next to you only to pull you in his lap and play with your hair. It was nice to have someone to cuddle with on a casual basis, though sometimes you longed for more, more than just friendship, something more intimate. But you weren’t sure if you had the energy for that.

Adam on the other hand longed for the same thing, he made it very obvious that he was interested in you, he would listen to your problems - or at least pretent to do so, because sometimes your problems were fucking boring in his eyes. But he’d hold you in his arms while you talked about things that kept you up at night, no matter if he was listening or not. And that alone seemed to help, at least Adam thought it did by the way you acted. And while the first man tried to act on the feelings he had for you, you made it quite hard for him to actually do so. “Y’know” he casually hummed as he headed towards the kitchen with you sitting on his shoulders. That was a thing you had talked him into at the beginning of your friendship, whenever you felt too tired to walk for yourself you’d ask him to carry you and usually he did so. Sometimes - though that rarely happened - he was too tired himself and would simply refuse to get up at all. “We should give this LuLu world bullshit a fucking try,” he continued as he headed for the fridge. You looked down onto him, a little confused by his statement. “Why?” Adam shrugged his shoulders, his hands grabbed a hold of your legs so you wouldn’t fall as he did. “Why the fuck not? It’s not like this shithole of a fucking hotel has anything to offer.” And while he had a point, you simply saw no reason to visit LuLu world. It was bright, loud and full of people, that didn’t sound very fun to you. “Pass, “ you mumbled as you opened the fridge and looked for something to eat, the brunette sighed loudly, “Fucking c’mon shithead, I’ll be fucking fun.” You shook your head though, “Been there once, it wasn’t fun at all.”The first man reached for a plate of ribs that you had prepared for him a couple hours ago and handed you a bowl of chocolate pudding, “If you say so.” And with that the topic was through and Adam had to come up with yet another idea to invite you on a date.

As Adam turned around to head back to his room he shrieked and backed off against the counter. Niffty was standing in the door frame to the kitchen, a little needle in her hand as she giggled at the sight of Adam. “Lemme down, I’ll put her away,” you mumbled with your mouth full of chocolate pudding and made grabby hands for the brunette to put you back on your own feet, the taller male that was carrying you on your shoulders though shook his head, “No fucking way I let you near that little bitch.” You however simply patted his hair and climbed off his shoulders yourself so that you could head over to Niffty and get that little gremlin out of the way. “Nif,” you hummed in a soft tone as you kneeled down next to the small demon, offering her a small smile. The redhead jumped up and down on the spot in excitement, teasingly pointing the sharp end of the needle in Adam’s direction. You were quick to take that weapon from her, “Nuh uh, I told ya we leave the big guy alone.” Adam raised an eyebrow at that, wondering when the fuck you had spoken to Niffty about anything that involved him, he could not recall a memory like that and therefore figured you must have done that without his knowledge. Kinda cute, that he had to admit. “Awww, but he looks so funny when I threaten him;” the small demon cried out in disappointment, clearly not happy with the decision you had made for her. “Doesn’t matter, he’s off the table Nif, we leave him be,” you explained once more and while not happy with that result, the redhead accepted her fate and took off.

“C’mere you fucking bitch,” the brunette mumbled and you were just about to ask him what he was talking about, but before you could his arms wrapped around your body and you were lifted onto his shoulders again, “Stay away from the fucking impure filth.” That earned the first man a slap on the back of his head and before he could open his mouth to complain you spoke, “I’m filth too, just as impure as the other cunts here.” Adam was quick to disagree,”No you’re fucking not, otherwise I wouldn’t fucking carry you around like you’re the most divine fucker God had ever created.” And while you wanted to argue, there was truly no point, so you simply decided to go along with his point of view.

“Also,” Adam whispered as he was heading back to his hotel room with you still on his shoulders, “That stunt of yours? Fucking badass.” In confusion you asked the brunette, “What stunt are we talking about?” He tapped your knee nervously as Husk walked past you, he waited until the bartender was gone before he responded, “Standing up to that demon bitch.” In reality it had been less impressive, but Adam liked the fact that you had talked to that little girl about leaving him alone and this was his way of saying thank you - it wasn’t a very good way, but that didn’t matter. “I didn’t stand up to her, I-” Adam interrupted you, his voice echoed through the empty hallway as his voice sounded louder than he had intended it to, “Just take the fucking compliment, for God’s sake.” - “Thanks,” you simply responded and gently patted his cheek as you playfully added, “Next time you can just call me hot, I can take compliments if they’re actually voiced as such.” And despite the fact that you weren’t able to see Adam’s cheeks heating up and turning red, you felt them heating up under your touch. “Shut the fuck up, I dunno what the hell you’re talking ‘bout,” he mumbled as he tilted his head downwards, you left this uncommented. If he needed time to admit to his feelings fully, you were okay with that. You have spent your entire afterlife in this hellhole, waiting for someone to save you. Now that a certain someone had arrived and was willing to save you, you were willing to wait for him. And while you did so, you would be able to work on yourself so that you would be ready for him when he decided to take the first step. “You are though,” the words of the brunette drowned your thoughts out and you looked down on him, a big question mark on your face as you asked, “What?” Adam sighed and rolled his eyes, “Hot, dipshit, you’re fucking hot.” Now that was sooner than you had thought he’d admit it out loud, but you took it as it came. “I’m aware,” you hummed, a proud smile on your lips as Adam entered his room and carelessly pushed the door close using his wing, “So are you.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

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queenychu · 6 months

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This is totally random, but reading your t4t klapollo fics have actually inspired me to try to talk to my doctor about being trans at my upcoming appointment... Something about how you write Apollo and his steadfast determination to be the man he truly is is...... Really motivating? Like... Man... If HE can work hard to get T and surgery and work out and everything, I can too!

So uhhh yeah just.... Thanks, for writing these fics and helping me not only see a character I already heavily relate to be LIKE ME, but in such a way that he's an inspiration for me to actually go out there and try. To be brave like he is.

i dont know if ill ever be able to properly express how much this means to me, that a fic i started on a whim over a year ago that has spiraled out of control has inspired anyone to do anything like this, but ill try:

when i first read this i teared up. i am so happy you are going thru with something that feels right to you, and that i could give you inspiration to do so! i really really hope it brings you so much joy and confidence.

it made me wanna make this:

its 11x8.5 (home printer size) so it can be used for any nefarious transgender needs. all the advice on it is genuine, and can be used by transfems and transmascs alike. (also, you should look up and see if your local area has a trans liberation org! reaching out to them to see if they can help with court dates (like name changes), finances, moral support, and general connecting with other trans ppl irl is never a bad idea!)

thank you so much for telling me this, anon. it was magical to read that some silly thing i did as a hobby actually did something good!!!!!

#klapollo #ace attorney #apollo justice #ajaa #aa4 #transgender #anon #answer #ask

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inkskinned · 1 year

Text

i've been in pretty much constant pain for the past 4 months. i have a slipped disc. the mri this weekend finally confirmed what i'd already suspected. mostly, i just put up with it.

i've been in a pretty bad mental space since winter began. my brain is leaking out from between my ears. i just don't care enough to listen to the rabid wet whispering of hope. i'm mostly just bored of being here, the swaddled joyless apathy.

the back pain ebbs and flows, but it's there, so i take care of it. i do my physical therapy. i get in with a specialist. i'm lucky - there's no immediate need for surgery. it's bad, but it could be worse. when i talk about how i did it (it was a very bad sneeze), i usually start laughing. it's funny! i am never comfortable, but hey. i'm young. i'll bounce back, or so they keep saying.

i just found out it's not normal to wake up every night with a category-five panic attack. i'm lucky if i am still able to remember how to spell my name right. i spend my days in a weird blank haze, exhausted, desperate for respite - only to be unable to rest during the night. i say with a laugh - i really hate it when my mental illnesses start working together. i mean, sure. unionize. it's fine. i have lost all sense of myself. there's nowhere that's actually warm in my mind.

i feel bad how often i complain about my back. my friends immediately shush my apology. dude, you slipped a disc. continue complaining.

as a kid, i think i only really admitted to the bad things... twice. for some reason, when he didn't just dismiss it - it made my dad angry. he slammed a door at me. you're fucking ungrateful. what do you have to be sad for?

what an odd delight: the slipped disc gave me the oddest wave of relief. i'm allowed to actually hurt about this thing.

i have chronic conditions which aren't "real" things. i could write a novel on the weird ways people respond to my POTS & the rest of my fun physical acronyms. i am kind of ashamed to admit - i like the way it feels to be able to say well, because of a slipped disc. a slipped disc is a real thing. a slipped disc is serious and painful. there's diagrams and infographics about slipped discs. upon my diagnosis, they immediately offered me narcotics.

i haven't been able to get up out of bed for more than a few hours. i do less and less and less and less. i have started to sit down in the shower. sighing my way from deadline to deadline. this again. in one day and out the other. people tell me i don't really need my meds. i have run out of times saying i have depression, it's become almost transparent. it's so bad my therapist suggested meeting more than once a week, but i don't want to worry her, so i never finish setting up a second meeting. every creative spark in my soul has been entirely ravaged - but that's just capitalism, baby. i don't even take the day off of work. i just show up and do a bad job and get yelled at for it.

it's not real, after all. the pain is just imagined.

#spilled ink #warm up #is this clear?#i have chronic pain & illnesses which i will not be discussing on this blog #and i will say that the way i'm treated about those is often just as bad #but since i don't have the room to give it justice on this post #it's ... about that weird sensation of...#''oh this is a real thing that actually hurts people''#when u have spent ur life in pain and being told that pain isn't real #feeling like you are '''allowed''' to finally ACTUALLY feel pain #that sense -- oh thank god it's actually bad #idk maybe im a bad person #but sometimes i do like to write about. the actual symptoms of mental illness #and sometimes the Illnesses Do Make Me Think Bad Thoughts #so if this is weird just tell me i'll bring it up w/my therapist ig

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jinkookspencil · 6 months

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Helloooo how are you????? Could I plz request for a jungkook drabble where he and his gf spend an evening at a funfair...so stuff like them going on scary rollercoasters together...feeding each other typical funfair snacks...and ending their day on the ferris wheel with kisses (cliche i know hahaha)... also I saw how you wrote that you have been feeling down recently...Wish you better days :))))

hi!! tysm for requesting! this is adorable and unintentionally reminded me of the speak now taylor swift album, i listened to it as i was editing <3 and thank you for your words/wishes/concern - my mental health has been…. rocky but at the very least, I’m in a better place mentally than i was when you submitted this. and it took a whiiiiiiiiiile to feel better so it took a while to do anything and write this (sorry) - but better late than never! i hope you like it!! <3

wonderstruck | jjk

jungkook convinced his fearful girlfriend to try out a rollercoaster at the funfair...

tags + wc: jungkook x reader (f) / fluff / one-shot / established relationship / clean / ~1.5k

“If I do this, you owe me a churro,” you say, looking up at the rickety death trap looming over you.

“Done,” Jungkook smiles, kissing you on the cheek. He forcefully pulls your hand from your own grasp until he’s able to hold it, giving you reassuring squeezes and pep talks throughout your short wait in the line to the rollercoaster cart. With your hand still in his, he pulls you to the very first cart.

“Oh fuck no,” you protest, trying to pull him away to another cart, but failing. He barely moves an inch.

“Baby, baby,” he giggles, succeeding when he pulls you closer to him. “The front is less scary!”

“Don’t lie to me!”

“Ask him!” Jungkook points to the attendant, who merely nods in response, hiding his annoyance that your resistance held up the visitors loading onto the ride.

Reluctantly sitting on the cold piece of metal, Jungkook could see the terror in your eyes as reality sets in when the safety bar is pulled down against your bodies.

“You good?” he peeks, trying to read your face and think of any possible way he could calm you down. Jokes, a kiss, ill-timed dirty whispers, and flashing his abs always did the trick - but none seemed appropriate or doable then and there. If all else fails, he hoped his smile could do something.

“If we die…. we die together. There’s something beautiful in that…. right?”

Jungkook smiles when your eyes finally land on him, and he sees most of your fear fade away, replaced by what he could only assume was love, if not comfort. Either way, it meant the same. Whether his smile was what did it or not, his happiness only grew.

“There is. Pretty dark, baby, but… there is. I mean, I do want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The smile on your face was too brief. The cart is jolted onto its tracks, and Jungkook is deafened and delighted by the sound of your screams and calls of his name, which last all the way through the track until the cart comes to a complete stop once again.

Peeking at you at once, he tries to conceal his amusement, yet it shines through along with his concern. “Are you okay, baby?” he asks with raised brows, a hint of a smile, and wide eyes as you catch your breath.

“….I think I can do that again,” you murmur.

Laughing, he throws his head back against the headrest. “I knew you’d love it. Let’s go to another one, the scarier ones. I’m not letting you settle on this one.”

“Deal, Jeon Jungkook,” you say. The metal bar whizzes away from you and Jungkook hops out of the cart just as fast, holding his hand out for you to hold as you jump out after him. “But only if you hold my hand like this whenever you can, alright?”

“You don’t even have to ask.”

Jungkook kisses your hand before you can take another step, holding you tight as you whizz and weave through the crowds.

“Wait, Jungkook! About that churro….”

“It all seems like toys from up here. Not scary at all, actually.”

Looking over the funfair far below you, each ride, stall, and booth was now lit up in an array of neon colors and flashes. Distant screams and carousel melodies are faint from so high above, people seeming small as ants, pixels on a computer, or, he guessed, miniature toys as you described it.

“I knew you had it in you,” Jungkook giggles, kissing your cheek and pulling you tight against his chest, not caring that it was practically impossible for you to be any closer. Already caged into his body, you rub your head in the crook of his neck, taking off your matching animal headbands to better fit against him. His other hand only leaves your thigh a couple of times to grab the occasional handfuls from the popcorn bucket resting on your lap. “There’s nothing you can’t do, honey.”

“I think that statement applies to you, Koo,” you giggle, gesturing towards the third-wheel accompanying you on your compact Ferris wheel seat: the giant plushie he’d won you at a game booth. “I nearly took the guy’s eye out trying to win it. And you beat me at the duck shooting game and that stupid guessing game.”

“Well, first of all, you won this,” he begins, showing you the cheap plastic watch on his hand, “- at the ring toss, which is notoriously difficult. Don’t sell yourself short. And you could easily win the guessing game, too, you know? It’s just physics! It’s not so hard to guess how much candy was in the jar!” Jungkook ignores you rolling your eyes. I’ll give you the others, though. Darts is a skill I mastered in the dorms…. and I was going to let you win the shooting game but I won before I even realized I was in the lead. I guess I just have a good eye.”

“Well, obviously. If you didn’t have a good eye, you wouldn’t be with me, now would you?”

Jungkook chuckled heartily at your comment, and considering the way you moved your back and snuggled in position, he was sure you’d felt the laugh escape him through his chest against your back. He couldn’t help it - he loved seeing you all confident. “Well, obviously. It’s the perfect set of eyes, actually - it has a secret power, too. Want to know what it is?”

“If you see the future, then you probably missed a very cool job opportunity of opening up a booth here.”

“Make that two secret powers, actually. One for each eye!” Jungkook is too excited at his sudden idea, sitting up to face you directly and make sure you were following along and listening to every word. “This eye,” he begins, pointing to his right one. “This eye acts as a compass. It led me to my soulmate. That day we met, I noticed you the moment you walked into the room. I know it’s a compass pointing to my soulmate since I’ve been unable, and unwanting, to take my eyes off you ever since.”

You roll your eyes in an attempt to tease Jungkook’s cheesy words, but you know his words to be true - it was always hard to ignore both his gaze and the rush you’d feel whenever you feel his eyes on you, always lingering for far too long.

“You were right about the other eye. The left eye sees the future. My future.”

“And what do you see in your future, O’ Mystical Jungkook?” you tease, widening your eyes and waving your fingers.

“I see you.”

Jungkook’s tone is serious, yet it doesn’t stop a shy smile from appearing on his face when he sees the same on yours.

“Exactly where I should be,” you reply. “A mysterious, traveling fortune teller I’d met as a child told me that I’d fall in love and spend the rest of my life with another clairvoyant.”

“Then I guess I’m in the right place, too,” he smirks, wiggling his eyebrows.

Before you could nod in response, his lips are on yours, and his arms pull you close to him once again. You don’t pull away from one another until a loud boom sounds out from behind you, alerting the two of you to the sudden visual of colored sparks lighting up the brighter night sky. Jungkook always loved fireworks. Every time, the sight of a colorful sky was always so enchanting… but was even more so was the love of his love right beside him. Captivated, he takes in every wonderstruck expression on your face, every burst reflected in your eyes, and every second. Yet he held himself there, resisting the urge to spill out his heart and kiss what enchanted him most, to take in the scene a moment longer. It was practically a scene from a movie or a fairy tale ending, too picture-perfect to forget. Jungkook could wait patiently to do what he wanted to - certain he’d have the rest of his life to do so…. yet no ride that day gave him the same burst of adrenaline as the second you pulled him by his collar and kissed him soft and slow with the same certainty of an eternity together.

#jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook drabble #jungkook oneshot #jungkook one shot #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenarios #jungkook scenario #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fluff #bts scenario #bts scenarios #ask #anon request #request

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