#let her be her actual self dammit!

[smolstarthief]

Persona 5 Royal Crossover events stop calling Sumire, "Kasumi" challenge (Impossible). 😮‍💨😭

[our-lady-of-mcr]

everytime i think im done ranting i remember something else LMFAO this one is extra long i hit tag limit god mf damn

[teaspacebar]

spiced chai

pairing: carmen "carmy" berzatto x reader

summary: you've been living in chicago for about a year, and you're suddenly managing the coffee shop in the well beloved bookstore, nan's. you meet carmen berzatto on a not-so-good day. you're thrust into the everchanging societal landscape that is making friends in your 20s..

word count: ~9.7k

warnings: language, depictions of mental illness, barista!reader, afab!reader (but tried to be as neutral as possible), neurodivergent!reader, they don't kiss, could be read as platonic tbh but there's crumbs in there if you look, takes place over the course of a few months, probably doesn't follow canon fully (i'm not caught up yet forgive me)

a/n: *dumps this here and runs* but actually this piece of writing appeared in my brain and i've been picking away at it for a couple of months. i feel like i've put more of myself into this fic than with anything else i've written, so this is definitely more of a self insert (pls be kind or don't read if that's not your vibe). i'm queer, non-binary, and autistic and i just wanted to insert that into this space. i feel like there's more to explore here, so i might write more for this if i feel so inclined.

Meeting Carmen Berzatto was not on your to-do list for Tuesday morning.

Not that having to run down to the nearest corner store to grab milk - since the milk fridge was on the fritz…again - at 4am was in your plans either. It always seemed like one step forward, three giant leaps back with the little shop on the corner you basically called home. It was weird, to be thrust into leadership as your manager made an abrupt exit. 

The small bookstore, with an even tinier coffee shop, had been your place of work for the last year or so. You loved it. The people were great, and Nan, the shop owner, was absolutely lovely. She was getting up in her years, but the genuine care she had for the employees made all the difference. She put her trust in you to run the cafe, saying “You have the experience, and the care you have for people shows. I know this. Everyone knows this. Now you just have to see it - have confidence.”

“Confidence my ass,” you mutter, carrying five gallons of milk around the corner.

What happens next might have been considered the beginning of a rom-com, but you’re a realist, and the world is shitty.

There’s a crash, and the distinct sound of three of the five gallons of milk dropping onto the sidewalk. You stare, watching in slow motion as the milk forms into a river, dripping off the sidewalk into the gutter.

The person who ran into you curses, “Shit — fuck, sorry, I—I wasn’t looking where I was…dammit.”

You grip the other two jugs in your arms, blinking out of the haze to let out a hysterical laugh. “Great…cool cool.” Cold plastic bites into your fingers, and you take a deep breath. “Yeah, okay, what else was gonna happen?” You finally look up to see the one you collided with. The man looks extremely uncomfortable, foot tapping like he wants to bolt. Plastering on a smile you shake your head, “It’s fine. I’m the one who thought carrying five gallons of milk would be fine.” You ramble on, trying to ease his nerves, “I mean — why would I drive, like, thirty seconds. Park, get the milk, come all the way back. Seemed stupid…but now there’s milk in my socks.” You grimace, fighting the urge to chuck the remaining jugs of milk in the street so you could also hurl your milk-soaked shoes and socks after them. It makes the ache in your chest sharpen.

“Here, where are you —“

You cut him off, “No, no, it’s okay. I got it, thank you.” You gesture to the door that’s just a few feet away from you. “This is me, anyway.” You adjust your hold on the milk, brushing past the man to pull open the door. You catch it with your hip, not daring to look back as you head behind the counter. You release a sigh, setting the bane of your existence on the black speckled marble. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, pressing the backs of your hands to your eyes. You shake out your arms, biting your lip. “Okay, asshole, let’s get your shit together.” You quickly put the milk into the small fridge below the bar and walk to the back. The squish of your socks curdles your stomach, and you breathe through your mouth to avoid the smell. You take off your shoes, throwing them into a plastic bag to take home. Tossing your socks into the garbage, you grab your replacement sneakers and socks from your cubby. It wasn’t the first time you’ve dropped something on your shoes, it wouldn’t be the last.

You take your time in the back. You had gotten to the shop around 4am, unable to sleep. You were messing around with recipes, seeing if there was a possibility of baking some of the food in the cafe fresh, instead of outsourcing. It was something you put on your own plate, and you didn’t want to disappoint Nan. You had shown up early, looking to try out some muffins, and noticed the fridge had been hovering at sixty degrees all night. You’ll have to grab some more milk before the day starts, but that could be a problem for 8am you.

Walking through the swinging doors, you jump as you see someone at the bar counter. Pressing a hand to your fluttering heart, you finally take in the man that had run into you earlier. A mop of curly hair on his head, white tee, very blue eyes…and standing behind eight gallons of milk.

“Um…” you look between the milk and him a few times.

“The…uh – the door was unlocked. Figured I owed you one.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“How’d you even get it all here?” 

“Made two trips.” His gaze snaps back to you as you laugh, this time more genuine. “Fridge go out, or somethin’?” You���re still staring at him like he has two heads, and he rambles on, “Sorry for just…barging in. I used to go to this place…when I was kid. My sister and I would grab whatever pastries they had left for the day. And, yeah, we’d just sit, read random shit. I work at the restaurant just down the street…’s why I ran into you. Wasn’t paying attention – sorry, again.”

Suddenly, it all clicks. “You own The Bear.”

“Uh, yeah – yeah, I do.”

You feel nervous, out of the blue. Nan hadn’t stopped talking about the Berzatto’s, and Natalie had become a regular while the restaurant was being remodeled. You’re sure you’d seen other employees come in as well, for reading material. You vaguely remember talking to a very sweet man about baking, as he carried a ton of cookbooks in his arms.

You knew Carmen Berzatto, but only through the words of others – and the research you did late one night because you were nosey. To have him standing in the bookstore you worked at, for him to have gotten you milk, is sending you for a loop. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you begin to put the milk in their new home. You really need to call the refrigerator guy again. 

“That’s so cool,” the words fall from your mouth, others staying in your head. 

It's insane that someone like him is even speaking to you. He’s around the same age as you; He owns a restaurant and you’re barely able to run a tiny coffee bar in a bookstore. You’re an idiot who dropped milk onto the sidewalk. Why didn’t you just take the car? You should’ve just taken the car. Now Carmen fucking Berzatto has bought you milk at 5am because he feels bad for you. How pathetic. Call the fucking refrigerator guy.

“Thanks…for the milk.” You back away from the counter, gesturing behind you, “Lemme grab some money from the cash box real quick.”

“No, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s really fine, you didn’t have to go out of your way. I’ll be right back.” The itch creeps its way up your spine, and you push through the door as a shudder passes through you. You shake out the twitch, going and grabbing the cash box. You do mental math, trying to see how much you should give him. Did he even need the money? “Idiot,” you chide yourself. Today was not the day for your brain. 

Snagging a twenty and a ten, you rush back out to the bar, only to find the store empty. A groan escapes through your teeth, and you clench the cash in your hands, crumpling it. You walk to the front door, peering out to see if you can spot the chef. He must’ve made a quick getaway. As you turn to get prepped for the day, you spot a brochure on the counter, far away from its home of the stand at the front of the bookstore. Eat Your Way Through Chicago! 

Scribbled on the front is a phone number, and the words:

Fridge  Ask for Fak Say Carm sent you

“Fucking fuck.” You whisper, a smile creeping on your face against your will, “Asshole.”

It’s later in the week when you hear the bell attached to the front door – ding! You poke your head up from where you're arranging some alternative milks under the counter, seeing a familiar blonde.

“Hey, Natalie!” You pop up, an easy grin appearing on your face. “Half-caff?”

She nods, “Please.”

“How are you?” 

“Oh, you know.”

You ring her up quickly, then grab a pitcher to steam some milk for her latte. Natalie walks away from the counter to browse some books. The steam wand whirs, and you watch the vortex inside the pitcher. You touch the sides every so often, waiting for it to get to the right temperature. Making drinks is all muscle memory now, and you tamp the espresso grounds into the portafilter with precision. Wiping the excess from the lip, you lock it into the machine and press the shot button. As the shot pulls, you wipe down the steam wand with a wet cloth. 

“Is this any good?” Natalie has come back over, holding up a book with a half-naked man on the front.

You laugh, “It’s a Nan recommendation, so…” The shots are poured into the paper cup, and you swirl the milk into it, doing a quick tulip design. You sprinkle a little cinnamon over the top, before placing it in front of the woman.

“Smutty then, for sure.” Natalie laughs, then does a little excited gasp when she sees the latte art. “It looks so good every time!” 

“Thanks,” you reply, “Gets covered by the lid, but it’s fun to practice.”

“Too bad you don’t have for-here mugs,” she says thoughtfully.

“Ever the idea-haver! There'd be more spills to clean up – Nan would lose her mind if any books got ruined.” You point to the book still in her hand, “You want me to ring you up for that?” It was early enough in the afternoon that the only other person here was a part-timer, Jack, somewhere between the shelves stocking books. You had convinced Nan to upgrade to a different register system (which ended up saving money in the long run), so you’re able to ring up both books and café products at your register. 

She shakes her head, sighing. “I barely have any time to read, these days. I was thinking about trying out audiobooks? I used to listen to them at my old job, but it’s way too loud in the kitchen for that to work out.” The latte goes to her mouth, a pleasant hum leaving her as she takes a sip. “You’re the best.”

“Thanks, Natalie.”

She squints at you, “It’s Nat, c’mon.” A big conspiratorial grin makes its way onto her face, “So, I heard that you got some help with your fridge.”

A sharp pain twists in your chest. “Oh, um…yeah.” You let out a soft chuckle, “It’s working, which is great. Neil was a big help.”

“He said you made him the best hot chocolate he’s ever had,” Natalie taps the counter with her pointer finger twice. “Said he didn’t know how you got his number, though.” 

You shrug, wiping down the counter, “Nan had it. And the usual guy wasn’t calling me back.” Neil had told you the exact same thing, both about the drink and the number. Something had held you back from saying where you got the number from. Embarrassment, maybe? It felt weird, feeling like you owed anyone favors, or that things would be unbalanced. People usually never give without looking to receive.

“Frankie, right? He’s an asshole. Overcharges for everything.” Natalie doesn’t push you for answers, something you’re grateful for.

“Right! He disappeared one time and said he’d ‘be right back’ and then was gone for like, two hours! And he added that to his hourly!” The two of you giggle at the shittiness of people for a minute, when a ping causes Natalie to pull her phone from her pocket.

“I should run.” She reaches into her purse, and puts a five into your tip jar. “Thanks again!” 

As she turns to go, you call out her name. “Would you - maybe - I have some extra muffins. The place we get them from gave us some of the wrong ones…or they’re a tad over baked, or something. I can’t sell them. Would you wanna take them with you?”

“That’s so sweet of you! Yeah, I’m sure they’ll get eaten up.”

You grab the box of muffins, handing them over to her, “Thanks.”

“Thank you, babe.” She leaves with a smile, and you look down to brush the flour off your apron. 

“Hey, guys, I got some goodies!” Natalie sets the box of muffins on the table, where everyone is seated for family meal. 

Neil immediately grabs the box, pointing to the sticker on the top, “You went to Nan’s? Man, I could use a hot chocolate right now.” 

“I’m sure you can walk over there and order one, my love.” Natalie replies, waving for him to put the box back on the table.

Marcus snags two muffins, handing one to Sydney who is sitting on his right. Taking a bite, he stops chewing, eyebrows raised. “Dude,” he nudges the girl next to him.

“Dude,” Syd parrots, popping some muffin into her mouth. “Wait, woah.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” 

“Nat, where did you get these?” Sydney calls to the woman now sitting at the end of the table. The muffins are passed down the rest of the table.

Marcus has started dissecting the muffin, “Macadamia nuts, sick.”

“Oh they’re from Nan’s just down the corner!” She tells them how you offered them to her since they were the wrong ones from a vendor and possibly over-baked.

Syd snorts, “Over-baked? These are perfect!”

“What’s perfect?” Carmy walks out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel.

“Bear, come eat!” Natalie waves him over, pulling him into the seat next to hers. “You’ve been at it all morning, take a minute, okay?” She gives him a look that tells him not to argue, and he huffs in response, but does as she says.

“What’s perfect?” He asks again, taking the muffin box from Sweeps as it’s passed to him. As the cinnamon crumble topping hits his taste buds, he leans back in his chair. “Shit.”

“That’s what we’re saying!” 

Syd and Marcus begin talking over one another, the dull roar of family making its home in Carmy’s ears. He has another bite of muffin, thumb swiping over the sticker atop the box.

Nan’s Books & Brews

Simple lettering, surrounding a doodle of a coffee cup sitting on an open book.

“When did they,” he clears his throat as he leans closer to Nat, “when did they start doin’ stuff like this?”

Natalie purses her lips, “Not sure, honestly. They only had that small coffee machine and that plastic pastry case when we were growing up, remember? I think they added the actual coffee bar right before Covid?” Carmy nods, looking out the windows, a curdle in his stomach.

“A lot’s changed,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” Nat sighs, a hand over her stomach, “a lot has.”

A few weeks go by, as uneventful as they can be. You try out more recipes, and the staff of Nan’s is always sent home with one treat or another. Muffins, cinnamon rolls, croissants (which were a bust), and the like. Natalie is still a regular, and Neil has shown up to save your ass more than once. The brochure with his number on it taunts you from where it’s stuck up on the corkboard in the back.

Which is what has led you to standing in front of The Bear, a joe-to-go in one hand, paper bag in the other. An envelope burns in the inner pocket of your flannel jacket. Steeling your nerves, you knock on the door. Some yells are heard from inside, nicknames getting passed around like it’s a holiday dinner. You see a man walk towards you, in a nice suit, and he opens the door.

“Can I help you?” It’s not said unkindly, but there’s a look in his eyes that’s making you nervous. 

“Coffee delivery?” You say sheepishly, holding up the coffee traveler by its cardboard handle.

“Richie, who’s at the - hey!” Natalie immediately smiles when she sees you, and you sigh a breath of relief. Things were easy with her; she had this amazing way of comforting you without even trying.

“Hi,” you wiggle your fingers, still keeping hold of the objects in your hands. “Wanted to say thanks for all the help Neil’s been giving me, and when Nan found out, she insisted I bring over some coffee for the team, so…”

“You workin’ at Nan’s?” The guy - Richie - asks.

“For the past year or so, yeah.” You reply, thanking Natalie as she grabs the paper bag from you.

“Let them in, Richie, c’mon.” She presses on his chest, causing him to back up with his hands in the air. “Come in! I’ve been meaning to ask if you wanted to come by for a tour.” You follow behind her, taking in the layout of the place. It’s absolutely gorgeous, and a sense of awe falls over you. She has you set the coffee traveler on the bar, letting you take the paper bag from her hands. You pull out a cup holder with two cups in it.

“One half-caff french vanilla latte for you and…a hot chocolate for Neil.” As if by magic, Neil pops through the door to the kitchen.

“For me?!”

You chuckle as he pulls you into a hug. When he pulls away, he grabs his cup with a happy sound, rushing back into the kitchen when “Fak!” is yelled.

“The fuck Fak get a coffee for?” Richie frowns, causing you to bristle. Natalie swats at him, beginning to explain as you continue to walk around the restaurant. As you pass by a wood table, your fingers tap on it, the sound echoing in your ears. It sends a shiver through you, and a small smile appears on your lips. 

Natalie calls out to you, tearing your gaze back to her. People have begun to swarm around the bar, placing food on it, and your coffee is suddenly surrounded by things that smell amazing. “Did you want to eat with us, babe?” Attention turns to you, and the itchiness in your limbs reappears with a vengeance.

 A tall man, wearing a beanie, grins, “Hey, those muffins were amazing, by the way.”

You sputter, “Oh. Um—“

“Tell the chef, or baker — whoever,” he laughs at himself. “They were fire.”

Warmth rises in you, “Yeah, I’ll pass it on.”

“Babe, lunch?” Natalie says again, louder this time. More of the staff have begun digging into their meals.

“No, it’s okay!” The corner of your mouth curves up in a small smile, this one less genuine than before. You begin to back up towards the door, a gnaw of guilt in your gut as Natalie frowns. 

“Cousin! Food!” Richie yells out, followed by laughter from everyone else.

“I’m coming!” A familiar figure bursts through the kitchen door, “You don’t gotta yell like an asshole.”

Carmen Berzatto stops in his tracks when he sees you; the envelope in your pocket burns hotter. You look down at your shoes, but they just remind you of the milk dripping down the sidewalk.

“Carm,” Natalie introduces you, “they work at—“

“Nan’s.” Everyone chimes in, and you have to stop yourself from flinching. You look over at Carmy, eyes meeting.

There’s a moment where you feel like you’re going to get swallowed whole. The pipes are going to burst and water will fill up the room and you’re going to drown.

You walked straight into a den of hungry beasts, and you’re just a measly rabbit.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” Natalie’s words are muffled in your ears, but you manage to shake your head.

“I have someone from books covering me, and they barely know how to work the espresso machine.” You force a laugh. It grates against your vocal chords. “It was nice meeting you guys, though.” With a meek wave, you turn on your feet and speed out the door. Rounding the corner, you keep walking until you’re sure they can’t see you. Veering into the alleyway behind the restaurant, you let out a shaky breath, leaning against the brick. 

You press your thumb into the palm of your hand. Inhale, hold four seconds, exhale. Inhale, hold four seconds, exhale. It’s over before it starts, but your chest remains tight. A reminder, which will eventually dissipate once you're back in the shop.

The coffee bar, your shield; apron, your armor. 

A door opening causes you to jump, startled. Your eyes meet blue, widening like you’ve been caught. “Sorry! I was just–” You push off the brick.

Carmen seems just as surprised as you, “No, s’fine.” He clears his throat, as the two of you settle into silence.

A fwip of a lighter. Four seconds. An exhale of smoke.

You’re unsure if you should leave, but it’s like the bottoms of your shoes are stuck to the ground. “Did you-” He starts, lifting up his hand that holds a lit cigarette.

You shake your head, “No, but - um, thanks.” Your fingers twitch, and you reach to pull the envelope from inside your jacket. Something that appears so insignificant, held out in the space between you. When he just stares, you wave it a bit, until he takes the envelope with his free hand.

“What’s this?” 

“Cash, for the milk you bought.”

“You didn’t have to-“

“I did.” You bounce on your heels, “I should actually get going this time. Just wanted to give you that but…” He doesn’t respond, something you’re getting used to. You wonder where the man who rambled about reading with his sister at Nan’s went, but decide now is the best time to make your escape. As you start to walk toward the street, you turn, “The restaurant looks great, by the way. Good luck with the opening.”

“Good luck with the opening.”

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

"Let it rip, Bear."

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

“-a complete waste of fucking time.”

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

“I’m really sorry you feel that way, Carm.”

Natalie invites you to Friends & Family.

You don’t go.

The next month flies by. Marcus, Richie, and Syd have joined your little group of regulars. Richie even brings his daughter, Eva, whenever he’s able. She’s a joy and absolutely hilarious to have around. Richie has grown on you, the rough edges of him softening after a few cortados.

One night, he had rushed into the shop, Eva in tow, all but begging you to watch her for a few hours. He was supposed to be off for the day, to spend time with his daughter, but they’re understaffed at The Bear. A few weeks in, which confused you, but questions weren’t asked. You said yes - obviously - and had Eva help you with little things around the shop, until you close. The two of you bonded over a shared love of Taylor Swift while making muffins. By the time Richie came to pick her up, Eva was tuckered out in a loveseat, patchwork blanket tucked up to her chin.

“I owe you one,” Richie had whispered, holding his daughter in his arms.

You shook your head, “You deserve to have time with her.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Yeah, bring it up with the Bear himself.”

You weren’t planning on it. The man is barely on your mind. Except for every time someone from The Bear walks in. They look drained, more and more each day. It’s a certain type of pain, to watch people – that once had so much life in them – lose the light that you felt so harshly the first time you walked into the restaurant. You hear inklings; mentions of a changing menu every night, nonnegotiables, and the like.

It worries you. It’s not your place - you’re more than aware of that. But you’ve come to care for these people. And by extension, some part of you wants to see how he’s doing. It’s an odd - biting -feeling. How strange it is, to know someone through everyone else’s eyes but your own. You have to fight back the urge to force yourself into the places you do not fit. You’re resigned to watching from afar, providing comfort behind your coffee bar. It’s what you’re good at. It might be all you're good at.

Some sick twist of fate decides to upturn it all one Friday night.

Carmy had stayed late, to nobody’s surprise. He’d been adjusting the menu, preparing it for tomorrow, when the flashes hit him. He decides to walk it off, popping another thing of nicotine gum into his mouth. He walks aimlessly, trying to push the overwhelming thoughts out of his head. The street is dark - most places being closed - but light pours onto the sidewalk, just a few feet ahead of him. Almost a reflex, he peers into the windows.

A laugh of disbelief - more a huff of air through his nose - leaves him.

You’re dancing, headphones over your ears, as you mix something in a large bowl. It’s unlike anything he’s seen - from you or otherwise. There’s a sense of freedom in your movements, so different from the few times he’d seen you before. The tightness in his chest lightens, some, at the sight of you so obviously in your element.

And you're looking right at him.

“Shit,” he mumbles. You tilt your head at him, doing a little wave. He lifts a hand in reply, and you point haphazardly at the door. Before he can respond, or walk away – anything, you’re heading around the counter. A click of the door unlocking, and you pull it open part way.

“Hey,” you say, a little loud. With a wince, you pull the headphones off to rest around your neck. Music can be heard – a muffled, upbeat song that he doesn’t recognize. “Hey,” you say again, quieter this time. Silence passes between you, and he watches your nose twitch. “…did you wanna?” You jut your thumb behind you. You’re almost unrecognizable from the first time you met, calmer, somehow.

“Yeah, sure.” The words come out, easier than he thinks, and slips through the door you hold open. You lock it behind him, turning back around to slide behind the counter.

You grab a muffin tin, beginning to fill each one with a scoop of the batter you had been mixing. You make quick work of it, pushing them into the small commercial oven, wiping your fingers on the towel that’s pulled through a loop in your jeans.

Leaning against the counter, you finally look at him, “Okay, Pick your poison.”

“What?”

“Coffee? Americano, latte, cappuccino?” It’s like you’re trying to read him, wanting to crack the spine of a book and see what’s inside.

“I don’t really do the…caffeine.”

You hum thoughtfully, tapping your fingers on the counter in some type of rhythm. “Can I make you something? Low-caffeinated, of course.” He nods. “Anything you hate?” A shake of his head.

You grab a cup and get to work. You’re singing under your breath - the song that’s playing from the headphones around your neck. With your eyes off of him, he takes a moment to actually observe the shop. Warm lighting, with dark wood bookshelves making it feel cozy without being too claustrophobic. There’s smaller tables, with different recommendations for certain genres. A sprinkling of string lights and hanging plants just adds to the homey feeling, one so different from the pristine, white kitchens he’s used to being in. So different from his own restaurant. The coffee shop portion is close to the front, dark marble countertops and a chalkboard menu - swirling letters describing monthly drink specials.

“Alright, order up,” you call out softly.

Carmy walks back up to the bar, eyeing the cup. Warmth presses into his skin as his fingers curl around it. You mention that it’s hot, to let it cool for a bit. Silence falls between the two of you - in a way he finds comforting. Your eyes flick between him and the counter you’re wiping down.

“Do you normally do this?” He asks.

“The making drinks thing, or the staying at the shop way too late thing?” You give a wry smile. “Could ask you the same.”

He scratches at his nose, “Noted.”

The minutes pass; you go about cleaning the shop, rinsing dishes and setting things up for the next day. It’s an art he’s well versed in. The muscle memory takes over for you, and Carmen becomes invisible. It feels nice, to just be in a place where nobody has anything to ask of him. He finally tries the drink. It’s good, milky, if a little sweet, but it eases the last of the sourness in his stomach away. A timer on your phone goes off, and you tug on a flowery oven mitt to pull the muffins out of the oven. Chocolate and spice invades his nostrils, soothing him even more. You grab one, hissing a bit since it’s hot, and put it on a plate, bringing it back over to him. Leaning over the bar, you reach for forks that are in a metal cup, right near Carmy. You’re close, with no care about being in his personal space. It’s only for a second, and then you’re back in your previous position.

“You can have some, as long as you promise not to be an ass about it.” You hold out a fork for him. The words cause him to cringe, but he takes the utensil from you.

He stares at the muffin, running his thumb on the underside of the fork. “How much trouble am I in?”

You shrink back a little, “W-what?”

He’s met you what - twice? Both times felt clunky, an awkwardness to the both of you. Here, it’s simpler. Under the cover of night, huh? A voice that sounds awfully like Mikey’s says in the back of his mind. His family won’t stop talking about you. Or drinking your coffee.

“The Bear,” he mutters. “They talk to you, right?”

You laugh, surprised. “Do you actually want to know?” You hold up a hand before he can reply, “Actually, no. They don’t talk to me. I see things, sure. But I’m not getting anyone in trouble with the boss.” You’re on the defensive, not even for yourself, but for his kitchen.

“They-They’re not in trouble.” One look from you and he deflates, sighing. “Okay, yeah. Just…just say something.”

“I haven’t even been to eat there.”

“You should come,” he says.

Another laugh - a scoff, more-like, “You think I could afford your place?” You bite your lip, pinching the bridge of your nose. After a moment, you continue, gently, “Do you have any fun?”

“Fun.” The word is like poison in his mouth.

“Yes, fun. I know that food service isn't the best, but it’s good to have fun, or to at least enjoy it.” You wave your hands around, “That family meal stuff you guys do? That’s so sweet, and you have a whole family unit going on in that kitchen, or whatever. If this restaurant is supposed to be the rest of your life, you should like it, at least a little bit, right?” Your torso melts into the counter, and you rest your head on your arm. “And like, maybe? Don’t change the menu every night, or something. It’s new, right? You gotta work out the kinks first before jumping in all-” you blow air out through your cheeks.

A beat of quiet, then, “The menu, huh?”

“Eleven thousand for butter?” You parrot back. At his frown, you hold up your hands, “I’m just a barista, what would I know?” You say it without heat, and yet he feels guilt crawl up his throat.

“That’s not-”

“I know, Carmen.” A sigh leaves your lips, “You asked, so I talked. Again, take everything with a grain of salt.” The words get softer, as if you’re talking more to yourself than to him, “Just remember who’s going down with you if it ends up crashing and burning.”

You stab your fork into the muffin, tearing it in half. He follows suit, lifting a bite of it to his lips. Spice floods his taste buds, and he grunts. You blink up at him, fork hanging from your mouth. He’s suddenly starving, and he eagerly gets himself another forkful. “S’good.” He mumbles through the food. Carmen watches as you process his words, pressing your lips together to hide a smile. You two finish the muffin, and there’s an ominous sense of peace that covers him like a blanket. “Thanks.”

“For yelling at you?”

Carmy lets the chuckle spill out, “If that’s what you call yelling…” He trails off, sobering, “Do you have fun?”

You hum, contemplating. “Yeah. I mean, it’s coffee, at the end of the day. It’s just nice to see people, to make their day a little better than it was. I like to try out new things, to create, to get recommendations.” You stop, seeing him staring at you, “What?”

“You’re different…from the other day, s’all.”

You’re perplexed, scrunching your nose, “Well I had a bad day, the first time. And I don’t do…well, with new people.”

“Unless you’re behind the counter.”

Your eyes widen, something flickering behind them, like he’s seen something you didn’t want him to. “Touche.” Checking your phone, you clear your throat, “Alright, we should probably get out of here if we want any semblance of sleep.” He follows your lead, as you flick off the lights, throwing you backpack over your shoulder. He waits while you lock the front door, small key dangling on a keychain. You turn, looking at him, before holding out a paper bag, “Muffin for the road?”

He grabs it, an odd feeling bubbling in his chest, “Oh - uh, thanks.”

You suddenly look sheepish, fiddling with the strap of your bag, “And if you’re out late again, feel free to stop by. If you need a break, or something.” A beat. “Oh, again, take what I said with a grain of salt, yeah? Just - maybe - try to take care of yourself a little.” You laugh nervously, and Carmy sees the truth of his earlier observation. You’re still more relaxed, but the nerves have crept in as you step outside your comfort zone. Something he knows all too well. “Anyways, have a good night - morning.” You shake your head, blowing a raspberry through your lips.

“Night. Get home safe.” He murmurs. You turn on your heel, walking down the street. He tightens his grip on the paper bag.

Take care of yourself.

At least enjoy it.

You should like it, at least a little bit, right?

Carmy doesn’t know if he truly remembers what liking cooking is like. He’s found little bits of it, in moving back home. In Marcus’ eyes as he creates something new. In Syd’s determination to make amazing food. There’s a passion there that he’s lost somewhere along the way.

He sees it in you, and it calls out to him - the tide being pushed and pulled by the moon. A curious feeling, gnawing at his stomach. A hunger for something he can’t make sense of, but he pulls the muffin out of the bag to eat on his walk home.

Carmy keeps showing up at Nan’s, usually late at night. You didn’t expect him to take you up on your offer, yet a smile graces your lips every time he does.

He was right, when he said you feel most comfortable behind the counter. You knew it, but having someone else acknowledge it felt…weird. Like you weren’t playing your part right. Yet it also felt good, to be seen.

Conversation between the two of you still feels stilted, occasionally, but you find comfort in the quiet moments. And the not-so quiet ones; with music playing at just above a reasonable level, you mouthing the words as you dance around behind the bar. The mask slowly slides off when he comes around, and it’s easier to be goofy.

You think it surprises him. He’s not quite sure what to do, when you’re cruising on the linoleum tile you call a dance floor. But he never tells you that you’re weird, or too much. You’ve maybe even seen him bite back a smile. You swear there’s dimples hiding somewhere — a fleeting thought that you let fly away before you linger on it too long.

“What do you think?” You’ve turned the music down, notepad on the counter, your favorite pen in hand. You click it a few times, sound satisfying the little itch in the back of your brain.

“Not sure if I’m a matcha fan,” Carmy murmurs. You nod, writing down his response onto the paper. It’s almost filled — you’ll have to turn to the next page soon — with different drinks you’ve had Carmy try, determined to find the right one. He’s harder to pin than others, something you’re not necessarily surprised by.

That's partially on you. You're unsure of how much to ask. How much could you poke the both metaphorical and literal Bear until it breaks? You've been enjoying your time, but you've yet to ask him how work is going. He doesn't ask you about your personal life, so why would you ask about his?

There's a curiosity there, though. To see what makes Carmen Berzatto tick. You fear the two of you might be a little too similar.

You turn to go back to cleaning your mess — the reason being a fresh tray of cookies cooling on the counter, when he says your name. “Did you get a new tattoo?”

Gaze flashing to the wrap you have on your arm, peeking out from the sleeve of your shirt, you turn bashful. “Oh,” you hum, “I did. It’s been on my list for awhile. I’m keeping it wrapped at work while it heals - god knows I spill everything all over myself.”

“Can I — What did you get?” He’s just as sheepish as you, a boyish glow about him. You’d never talked about tattoos before. His evidence is on his arms; yours are mostly concealed — easy to hide with the oversized button downs and jeans you wear.

You pull your phone from your back pocket, “Here, I’ll pull up a photo of it.” Placing your phone on the counter, Carmy grabs it, zooming in on the two-headed calf that’s found its home on your bicep. The tattoo is fresher in the photo, line work popping out against your skin. “The longest living two-headed calf lived 17 months. Her name was Gemini — a little on the nose, I think. There’s also this poem by Laura Gilpin, that just kinda struck me.” Your ramble tumbles off, a half smile pulling at your lips. “It’s sad, but the kind that makes you hurt in a nice way? If that even makes sense.” You wave a hand around, then reach to take a sip from his cup.

The matcha settles the nerves hiding under your skin, the earthy flavor dancing on your tongue. As you set the cup back on the counter, you point at his hand, “What’s that stand for?” Your own fingers twitch, fighting the urge to brush them across his own. “S.O.U?”

“Ah, sense of urgency.” He says, fiddling with your phone.

You laugh, quickly covering it with a hand, “Sorry, I — sorry, that just makes so much sense.” Before he can speak, you shake your head, “Not in a bad way, necessarily. It’s just so obvious how little work-life balance you have.”

“We’re literally at your shop in the middle of the night.” Carmen huffs exasperatedly, corner of his mouth curling up.

You hold your hands up, conceding, “Okay, I get it. Misery loves company - or whatever. God, we’re both crazy, aren’t we? We should get out more.”

He hums in response, tapping his phone twice to check the time. Anxiety swells up in your throat, and there’s something biting at your heels. The silence doesn’t feel comfortable anymore.

You said something wrong, the little voice in your head whispers. You lost the script and got too close and now he’s pulling back. How can you fix it? You have to fix it.

“What’s your favorite one?” His blue eyes glance up at you. Invisible hand squeezing your lungs, you stammer, “Tattoo. What’s the one you like most?”

His words come out softly, “A house boat. I, uh, got it before leaving Copenhagen. I stayed in one while I was over there, and put out water for an invisible cat.” Relief floods you as he talks. It’s the most he’s spoken about anything, and you see a glimmer behind his eyes.

It feels a little too close to home.

“You really loved it over there, huh?”

As if caught, he clears his throat, “It was cool…different.”

Different from Chicago, you don’t say. “I get that,” you murmur instead.

You knew what it was like, to run away. The need for escape pushing you into flight as the metaphorical dog chases the rabbit.

You wonder what Carmen’s dog was. Or is. If it’s even a dog at all.

“What about you? What’s your favorite?”

You’re pulled from your thoughts. “Oh! Um, it’s silly.” You worry at your bottom lip.

“You don’t—”

“No, hold on, it’s just,” you push yourself onto the counter with the palms of your hands. Carmen leans back as you swing your legs over the bar, letting your feet rest on the barstool next to him. You lean over, pulling up your pants leg to show the tattoo on the right side of your calf. He stares at it for a moment, confusion clear in his gaze. “See, I told you.”

“Is it a moth, or something?”

“Moth-man, Carmen. Mothman.”

“Am I supposed to know what that is?”

“He’s a cryptid. There’s literally stories of a Chicago Mothman.” He peers up at you in amusement, causing you to scrunch your face at him. “I swear on my life Carmen Berzatto, don’t be an asshole.”

“I’m not.” He laughs, and your chest loosens. You got Carmen Berzatto to laugh. “It looks good, the style is nice,” he gestures to your leg.

You smile, “Thanks.”

Nodding, he goes to sip from his cup. He makes a face, pulling it away from him, “Yeah, I don’t like this.”

He holds it out to you as you reach for it, laughter spilling from your lips, “More grass for me.” You drink, and let the cup rest on your thigh, fingers tapping on the plastic lid.

“I’m not…” Your head turns to look at him, watching as he runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not really good at this.”

“...at what?” You whisper, scared if you talk any louder you’ll scare him away.

“Talking? Not working? Who the fuck knows,” his hand leaves his hair and passes over his face.

“I’m not either, really.” You pick at your jeans, “But we’re trying, right? You come by more than I thought you would.”

“Really?”

You snort, “Dude, the first time I was surprised you even came in.” Gently, you add, “And you don’t have to be perfect at conversation to be friends with someone.” His eyes meet yours as you nudge his shoulder with your knee. “I’m weird, you’re weird, that’s okay.”

Carmen rolls his eyes good naturedly. His legs are bouncing, and you can almost see him chewing the word around before it finally leaves, “Friends?”

“Friends.” You affirm. Silence passes between you, until a growl comes from your stomach.

The man laughs, looking all the prettier for it, “You hungry?”

“Starving,” you groan.

He gets up from his seat, grabbing his denim jacket that’s hung over the chair on his left, “C’mon.”

It takes a moment, but it clicks. “Oh my god,” you gasp out, hopping off the counter. With a speed you only have during a lunch rush, you run to the back. You untie your apron, hang it up on a hook, and grab your tote bag. “Wallet, keys, phone…phone!”

“Out here!” Carmen yells. You grin, rushing back out to the front, bouncing on your heels. “You good?”

“As I’ll ever be.” You shake your keys with enthusiasm. He laughs as you both leave, and you turn to lock up. There’s excitement buzzing through you, like caffeine would if your brain weren’t wired a bit funky. A thought cuts through the haze, “Oh shit, I forgot to–”

“I got the trash.” The street lights reflect off his blue eyes.

Your heart twinges a little, “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He gestures with his head, “Now let’s go before your stomach eats itself.”

“Hey Carm?!”

The man pokes his head into the office, one hand wrapped around the door, “Yeah, what?”

Natalie raises an eyebrow, “You busy?”

Carmy scoffs, “Yeah, Sugar, I’m busy.”

It’s lunch time. Marcus has pastries, Tina’s running prep. Syd is around…avoiding him. He tries not to think about it for too long. Richie is who knows where.

Fuck, don’t be an asshole, asshole.

Deflating, he asks, “What’s up? Everything okay?”

“I’m spending my hour of alone time figuring shit out here, while Pete watches the baby.” His sister sighs, glancing down at the paperwork on the desk, “I’m managing. Anyways, that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

He wants to ask about the baby. His niece. But Natalie barrels over the topic to say, “Were you here late the other night?” He must have made a face because Natalie sighs, exasperated. “I know you stay later than everyone else, doing god knows what, but I got a notification on my phone the other night-“

“What notification?”

She rolls her eyes, “The alarm system, dummy. I get alerts.”

“No, yeah, I get that. But I turned it off.”

It could only be from the other night, when he brought you back to the restaurant. He’s not sure why he did — he almost had a panic attack in front of you while debating what to make. It's strange, how much an environment can affect someone. Nan's feels so comfortable to him now, like nothing can happen to him when he's in those four walls. Where was the last place he felt like that?

You don’t need to impress anyone, Carmen. It’s just me, you had said.

Simple words that cut through him like a knife. You asked for comfort food, so he made you grilled cheese with tomato soup. The little dance you did every time you took a bite relit a fire inside of him that had been burnt out by years of working in kitchens.

“I know. I’m asking because the alarm was set, and then you turned it off again a few hours later.” Natalie unlocks her phone, showing him her screen that has some app pulled up with timestamps on it. “Are you sleeping? Look, I know things aren’t great right now—" Natalie cuts herself off with another sigh.

“It’s fine. Things are fine.” At her pointed look, he holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m working on it, okay? Just…are you good? Do you need anything?”

“About 48 hours of interrupted sleep would be great.” Her gripe falls off into a laugh, which he returns.

Stepping into the room further, he pulls the door closer, just a slim crack of clean white light coming through. “I’ve been a shitty brother lately.”

“No…” Natalie snorts, “Okay yeah, a bit. I love you, though.”

He mumbles the words back, tapping out a rhythm on his thigh, “Maybe I could come by, sometime. See the baby.” It’s a blessing and curse how his chest aches when he sees the way her eyes light up.

“I’d love that, Bear.”

“Yo, delivery!” Marcus yells out, pulling the attention of the Berzatto siblings.

“The fuck?” There isn't supposed to be a delivery today.

Natalie gets out of her seat, “Oh thank god.” She ushers Carmy out of the office, pushing past him into the dining room. He follows after her, confused, only to stop in his tracks.

You’re here.

You stand next to Richie, talking animatedly, albeit shy. You’re wearing clothes he doesn’t regularly see you in, the worn denim jacket catching his eye in particular. It’s clear that you aren't working, yet you hold two cups from Nan’s in your hands, a few drink carriers littering a table.

“You’re literally my savior, thank you.” Natalie pulls you into a hug, and you look at Richie with wide eyes. Carmy has to hold back a snort at your expression.

“You should expect this reaction by now, kid.” Richie takes a sip from his drink when you gape at him in exaggerated outrage.

“Shut up, Richie,” Natalie is barely paying attention, saying the words more out of habit. Grabbing a cup from a drink holder, she says, “You’re coming home with me.”

Giggles bubble from your lips, and you go to cover them with the back of your arm. There’s a pull Carmy feels, instinctual, to urge your arm away from your face and hear your genuine laughter fill the room.

Your eyes meet his, finally noticing that he’s there. The smile you give him is earnest, a gentle hello without words. He forces his feet to move, closing the distance. Carmy blatantly ignores the looks both Richie and Natalie are making. You hold out the cup in your hand - the one you weren’t drinking from - and he takes it from you.

Condensation clings to the sides, his name hastily written on the side.

⋆⁺Carmy!⁺˚⋆

There’s a heart in place of the dot at the bottom of the exclamation point, little stars doodled around his name. His stomach flips.

“Iced?” He swirls the drink in hand, mixing it up.

You shrug, “Thought I’d try something different. It’s hot outside.”

“You off?” Bringing the straw to his lips, he hums at the taste. You’re watching him eagerly, head tilted to the side as you wait for his review. “This is nice.”

Squinting at him, you huff, “Not perfect, though.” You type something into your phone — most likely to add to your notebook later. “Had to run some more syrup by the shop. Saw Natalie’s car on the street so I texted her to see if she wanted something to drink. I have errands to run after this.”

“You a regular too now, Cousin?” Richie barks, and Carmy watches as you remember where you are. Who you’re with.

A protectiveness rises up in Carmen, hating the way you recoil into yourself. “Fuck off, Richie.” He looks over at you, “Hungry?”

“Dude, we got shit to do.”

“Richie!” Natalie hisses at the older man, shoving him back toward the kitchen. She calls back to you, “Thanks for the coffee! I promise I’ll come by when I feel more like a human again.”

The customer service clicks into place behind your eyes, “Take care of yourself! Hope the baby is doing well!” Once it's just the two of you, you sigh, knocking the heels of your boots together. “I should get going.”

Carmen nods, “Can I grab you a sandwich, first?”

“Grilled cheese?” You tease, stifling a smile.

He huffs, shaking his head, “Nah, but Ebra’s got window right now. I could throw something together real quick.”

“You don’t have to do that.” He glances down; you’re pressing your thumb into the middle of your hand. It's uncanny, the semblance of himself that is mirrored in you.

“I know.” He wants to, though. “Give me five minutes?”

A moment of hesitation, then, “Okay.”

“Cool.” And he’s off.

Chaos erupts the minute he’s back in the kitchen.

“Since when did the two of you become buddy-buddy?”

“Can we please get back to work? Richie, respectfully, what are you doing back here?” Syd is working on pasta, flour covering her work service.

“I got shoved outta my space, so here I am,” Richie waves his hands around.

The overlapping voices turn into white noise, and Carmy inhales sharply, “Fak!”

“Yes, chef!” Neil appears out of nowhere. Sometimes Carmen thinks there’s a series of underground passages that makes it so easy to get ahold of him. It’s not that crazy of a notion.

“Go and say hello to them, okay? I’m gonna throw together something, give it to them, and then I’ll be right back.” The last part is meant for everyone to hear, but is pointed more toward Richie. “Seriously, just leave it, alright?”

“I’m leaving it,” Richie snarks, but nudges Fak with his elbow. “Think there’s a drink out there with your name on it anyway. Snag me another one of those apple-donut-things too, eh?”

“Fritters!” Marcus calls out from his station.

Carmy sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s queasy; he’ll have to take some pepto later.

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

Let it rip, Bear.

Neil barrels into you, wrapping you in a hug. He talks your ear off for the next couple minutes; you smile when you need to, laugh when you remember.

The yells from the kitchen are playing on repeat in your ears.

They’re talking about you.

The urge to flee tickles the back of your throat. You thought it would be nice to stop by and bring Natalie a coffee, but then you had felt bad about not bringing anything for everyone else, which turned into you jumping behind the bar to make ten drinks. It’s not like you were going to make Morgan, the barista on shift, make them all.

You always had a hard time not working on your days off.

“You should absolutely come!”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” You reply, still not fully checked back into your conversation with Neil.

He smiles, “Great! I’ll send you the info!”

Before you can ask what you actually agreed to, Carmy pushes back into the room, to-go container in hand. “Hey, uh, Fak, can you go take a look at the toilet for me?” You barely notice Neil leave, focusing more on how your chest releases as Carmen walks closer to you.

He hands you the container, and you murmur a soft, “Thank you.”

“I’ll walk you out, yeah?”

The thought is nice. Glancing behind him, you see Natalie and Richie watching through the window. “It’s okay, you really don’t have to.” You take a step back just as Carmy reaches out to you. You can’t run, they’d see you. Ask questions. They probably see a caged animal.

“Hey,” he whispers your name, “it’s just me.” He’s repeating the words you said to him the night you were here. You tear your eyes away from the kitchen, looking at him. “Lemme walk you out?”

With a nod, you let him guide you out the front door. The warm summer air washes over your skin, and you take in a deep breath. You count the lines in the sidewalk as you pass them, sipping at your iced latte. “It was cool of you to come by,” Carmy says. “And your jacket’s dope.”

He’s trying to make you feel better.

“Did you just say dope?” You peek over in his direction, catching his shrug. “You’re so old.”

“Fuck off,” he laughs, and your smile widens.

You make it to your car, a little thing that has a new problem every other week. It’s been with you for years, moved with you to five different states. More of a sentimental object, than a real mode of transportation. You mostly used CTA these days if you were able, but it was nice to have a car for when you’re running errands all around the city.

“Sorry if they bothered you,” he apologizes, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No, no, no,” you push out the words, throat tightening, arms hugging your middle. “I thought I was going to try to be a human today. May have jumped the gun on that one.” Fiddling with your keys, you continue, “It was nice to see you. Thought you might be a vampire or something, since I only ever see you at night.”

The joke causes Carmy to roll his eyes, “Is that considered a cryptid?”

You perk up at the word, “Oh, don’t get me started.”

He smiles big enough for his dimple to appear, “Oh, yeah?”

“Unless you want me to talk for hours on end. I’ll make a power-point presentation and everything.” You might already have one in the works, but he didn’t need to know that.

“You could - I mean, it wouldn’t bother me. If you did, you know?”

You blink a few times, frozen in shock. He looks shy, almost. Like the first time you met him, but there’s something between you now. A plant that will keep growing - might even bloom - if the two of you keep watering it. He keeps pecking away at your carefully crafted walls that let people see exactly how much you want them to.

Carmen Berzatto keeps seeing you. Whoever that is.

He coughs, scratching the side of his head. “I’ll see you later?”

“You know where I’ll be.”

“Yeah.”

You walk around to the driver’s side of your car, opening the door. You slide in, turning the key to let your car sputter to life. You roll the windows down, and music starts to blare from your speakers. “Kick ass tonight!” You yell the words as you pull away from the curb. You spare a glance in your rearview, watching Carmy wave before he starts walking back to his restaurant.

When you're parked outside your apartment, it hits you. You dig into your tote bag, pushing aside old receipts, chapstick tubes, and fidget toys. You cheer to yourself as you pull your notebook out, favorite pen hooked over the cover. Flipping to the back, you stare at the list of drinks you've had Carmy try.

You think you want to keep seeing him, too. Whoever that is.

You scribble at the bottom of the page, circling it twice.

Spiced Chai ~ HOT, xtra cinn

[sapphic-kpop-fics]

Fri(end)s (Huh Yunjin x Reader)

Angst, kinda unhealthy situationship, kinda happy ending where they get their shit together.

You're in my head

I had plans for the weekend

But wound up with you instead

Back here again

Yunjin hadn’t answered any of your texts this week, after you had seen each other the Saturday before and hooked up like you had in the past. It had always ended this way, you hook up, argue a bit while she insists you’re just friends

“Y/n?” you heard as soon as you answered the call from Yunjin, her voice raspy like she had been crying.

You were currently getting ready to hang out with your friends and go to a club.

“Jen? Everything okay?”

“Can you come over?” Her voice wobbles like she’ll start crying any second, your heart breaks for her but you shouldn’t blow off your friends to comfort your situationship, right? This is was something that happened often, her calling you only when she’s upset or horny or usually both.

“Jen, I wish I could but I’m actually busy.”

“Oh…” a deep breath, and you can hear her start to cry a bit, “okay, that’s okay…I’m sorry for calling, I shouldn’t have. Go have fun.” She rushes out the words so her voice wouldn’t tremble as much when she spoke.

“Wait Jen. I’ll be there 20.”

“Thank you.” And the she hangs up.

You press the contact of your best friend, Yeji.

“Hey Yeji…” you start

“Don’t tell me you’re canceling again.” She said already knowing where this was heading.

“I’m sorry..”

“Are you going to see her?”

“What? No.” Not believable at all.

“God dammit y/n, I told you, you have to stop seeing her. She’s literally ruining you.”

“No she’s not.” You insist.

“Just last night you were crying in my apartment because she hadn’t texted you back in a week.” Yeji argues, proving her point.

“I can’t help it… she sounded really upset.” you admit, voice quiet.

“I know.” Your best friend knows you’re still going to go see the girl, as you weren’t very good at self control when it came to her, “Be careful. Try not to end the night yelling and crying this time.” A reference to the many arguments you and Yunjin shared, mostly at her lack of feelings but she’d say it’s because you have too many feelings.

So you go to her dorm, where Chaewon lets you in and gives you a pitiful look, even her members knew that the way she treated you wasn’t okay. You didn’t want to think about the amount of people who felt that way, like you were prey trapped and unwilling to leave even when rescued.

You softly knock on her door and whisper a “jen?”

“Come in.” It’s small, almost unheard through the thick wood of the door.

When you walk in, your heart kinda breaks. She’s sitting on the floor in front of her bed, arms around her knees with ripped paper littering the floor in front of her, lyrics scribbled on the tiny pieces. You sit next to her silently waiting for her to open up.

“I love my job. But people can be so horrible sometimes.”

You had figured her songwriting had been a topic among hateful “fans” online from the scattered paper in front of you.

Her head leans against your shoulder now and instinctively you wrap your arm around her. And you sit there like that in silence for hours until she feels better, once again throwing away your night to help the girl.

Friends, just for now

Yeah, but friends don't say words that

Make friends feel like more than just

Friends

“You’re so beautiful you know that?”

You both were drunk after a night out with mutual friends and of course, you ended up in Yunjin’s bed without your clothes. The compliments weren’t normal though, Yunjin would say you’re hot and compliment you of course she wasn’t a monster however it was only during sex but here she was cuddling into you, whispering little compliments and confessions as if it’s nothing, you assume the alcohol has something to do with it.

“I wish I could treat you better.” You freeze your hand that’s rubbing her back when she finishes, “it’s just so….scary.” Her words are slurred, obvious she’s still drunk and so are you which is why you make no move to stop her from talking, “you deserve better.” Is all she gets out before falling asleep in your arms.

Friends are not supposed to get too close

And feel emotions that

We're feeling now, now, now

We ain't slowing down, down, down

It was another night where she had called you late, asking you to come over, saying she “needed” you in that pouty voice to get what she wants. So here you were standing in her room after she took all of her weeks frustration out on you, looking at her as she’s turned away from you.

“I think I love you.” You whisper as the ginger girl is getting dressed after one of your nights together. She freezes as she’s about to button her pants and sighs, you know what the sigh means and you knew this would be her response but you wanted her to know how you felt.

“I’m sorry, i don’t feel the same.” She deadpans, though you can tell she’s masking something underneath, “you said that was okay.”

“…it is.”

“Great.” She says as she starts walking to her door to open it as a gesture to get you to leave.

“I shouldn’t have fucking answered.” You mumble, meant to only be said to yourself but of course she heard you.

“But you did. You always do.” Finally turning to look at you, “it’s pathetic really. The way you come crawling to me no matter what I do.”

“That’s not true.”

“Really? I can bet that if I called you tomorrow after insulting you all night, you’d still answer.”

“That’s not true.” You shake your head, though you know it is true. It’s like something takes over you when she calls and you can’t control anything.

The way she laughs at you is mocking, and mean. She could be mean sometimes, not often, only when she was particularly stressed with her schedules and you were usually the one she took it out on whether it was in bed for hours or insulting you and mocked you until you cried and left.

“Oh really? Then what happened tonight?” Her head tilts, a challenge.

She was right, last week had ended exactly as it was going now and of course as soon as she called you answered and came over. Just like she said. You didn’t answer, avoiding her eyes that are staring at you. Tears dripped from your eyes.

“Are you fucking crying?” She scoffed, “i think you should go.” She finalized.

You don’t take another second to think before you’re pushing past her and out her door, tears falling more frequently now. Unfortunately, Chaewon sits on the couch in the living room right next to the door you have to leave out of. Her eyes connect with yours and there’s a mix of pity and worry.

“Are you okay?” She asks, but you knew she heard what was said and that Yunjin tells her everything.

“Fine.” Is all you say before opening the door and leaving, you hear Chaewon yell for Yunjin before the door closes fully, her voice angry.

Now, I'm over pretending

So let's put the "end" in friends

You’re sitting on Yunjin’s bed as she paces her room and lectures you once again on how she doesn’t want a relationship and she just wants to be friends that have fun together.

“We’re friends. That’s it.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” She affirms, voice hard, she means it.

‘’Maybe we shouldn’t be.”

“What?” Yunjin had only now started showing emotions other than annoyance at you.

“Maybe we should…. Put the end in friends if you know what I mean.”

“No. I need you.”

You laugh, it’s a bitter one as opposed to all the other times she made you laugh, a chill goes up Yunjin’s spine at the sound, looking to the ground as you do so.

“No you don’t. I don’t think you ever really did.”

“That’s not true.” Sounding familiar to one of the last times you saw her, this time she’s saying it.

“Don’t lie Yunjin. You never cared about me.”

Yunjin flinches a bit at the use of her full name, you had never called her that not even during your worst arguments, you had only and always called her Jen.

“I did. I cared.”

“You have a shitty way of showing it.”

Being faced with the truth, Yunjin’s heart feels like it’s shattering. The consequences of her actions had finally caught up to her, unfortunately one of them was losing you.

“You should go Yunjin. I don’t want to see you ever again.”

Your cold voice surprises Yunjin, it was a stark contrast to how you would speak to her even if arguing you never really raised your voice at her. It shocks her so much that she doesn’t hesitate to finish getting dressed and walking right out of the door without another word.

4 months later..

In your bed as you try and rest for the night your phone buzzes three times next to you.

Huh Yunjin

Hey.

I know it’s been a while.

I miss you.

You

Leave me alone.

Huh Yunjin

Open the door.

You’re confused at the message but then you heard a knock, this crazy woman actually showed up. You didn’t know if you felt upset or happy, I mean yes you shouldn’t be seeing her especially after four months of silence but then again she had never made the effort to show up to your place and talk to you, unless she was drunk.

When you look through the eye hole in your door, you see Yunjin same as a few months earlier but her hair is now a red color. Her eyes are red and puffy like she had been crying, she’s wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt as opposed to her usual attire when seeing you. She looked broken and it hurt you, so you open the door. Her watery eyes look at you in surprise when you finally open it, walking in after a few seconds of staring at you.

“Why are you here?” You ask as soon as your door is closed.

“Um-I-I don’t know.” She stutters, “i just wanted to see you i guess.”

You had never seen her like this before the usual confident girl was fidgeting with her hands and her eyes are fixed on her shoes, her voice was quieter than usual and sadness laced all of her words. You don’t know why you do it, an hour ago you would’ve said you hated her and you still might but your feet are moving and suddenly your arms are wrapped around her. She freezes in shock but returns the hug, her arms squeezing you tightly enough that you wouldn’t be able to get away, now that she is comforted by you the tears that filled her eyes are rapidly rolling down her face as she cries on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” She says after she calms down.

“For what?”

“Everything.”

You’re still hugging, Yunjin’s death grip not lightening yet.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we last talked.” Now starting to pull away from you, “I treated you horribly and you didn’t deserve it. We were never just friends not since we met I know that, I was just scared.”

“J-“

“I love you.” She cuts you off, she had said the words before in bed while fucking you but you didn’t know if she meant it and you still couldn’t tell.

“I don’t trust you.” You say, plain and simple, you felt sugarcoating was pointless at this point.

“You shouldn’t.” Her head shakes, “but I would really like if you gave me the chance to earn it back.”

“I don’t know Jen. I don’t wanna get hurt anymore.”

“I’ll be better. I will do anything.” The ginger girl grabs your hands, “I want to be with you, for real this time. And I’m such an idiot for not realizing sooner.”

“Yeah, you are.” With a playful smile that Yunjin returns, the tense air now becoming more comfortable. Her forehead rests against yours.

“Does this mean you’ll give me a chance?” Her voice is hopeful, and she’d be embarrassed by the pathetic nature of her question.

“It’s going to take a while.” She pulls her head away shocked, not expecting you to actually agree, “we can’t just go back to how we were, I’m talking starting from scratch.”

“I can do that.” She agrees a little too quickly.

“Go home.” You tell her as you let go of her hands a few moments later.

“I can’t stay?”

“Starting from scratch Yunjin. Take me on a date first and then you can maybe have sleepovers.”

“You’re going to be the death of me.” A smile on her face, then she walks out of the door giving you one last smile, excited to get home and plan a date so she can finally prove how much she wants you.

——————————————————————————

Part 2 where Yunjin experiences growth and earns your trust back and is the best gf ever???

[achbbys000]

BY BLOOD

She’s your mother, but only by blood.

Word count: 1,2k

Genre: verbal violence!au, life lesson

ᴡ ᴀ ʀ ɴ ɪ ɴ ɢ s; slight mention of family!abuse & sexual harassment, mentions of violence, words13+

“You stupid girl!”

The yells of your mother echoed through the apartment as you enter it.

She came out rushing, a phone on her right hand and eyes redder than the devil is, redder than usual. Her hair a mess, clothes torn out in her diminished body and face white, as pale as death.

You watched her as she brisk pace towards you, an expression on her face that you couldn’t quite figure out. There was regret, disappointment, worry…but most of all anger.

Your body, on the other hand felt feeble. You weren’t there mentally, still shocked by the events that happened previously. Too unsteady to stand still, and as your mother’s hand landed on your cheek with force, it made you wonder if coming here was any better than leaving away from him.

“You’ve been away..for god’s know how long, and then I get a phone call that my daughter has been bloody harassed by a man I trusted her to be alone all the damn time?!” She shrieked in an upsetting voice while her tears stained her cheeks, a hand on her forehead as a self-soothing gesture.

Your mother went through a lot. A thing she could never accept and comprehend was her daughter been taken advantage of and been exposed.

Like she didn’t do that to you everyday.

Like she wasn’t the main reason her daughter was being so frail and powerless.

“Y/n…how could you not tell me..?” Sadness overwhelmed her as she took you in her arms.

You stood there with your head still tilled by the hit she gave you not seconds ago. Your features didn’t flinch the slightest, and neither did your body. You let it go away, as your mother always advised you. Unexpressed, gulping down the pain you felt when your mother tighten her hold on you, hearing her cries echoing and filling the void.

You let her be your prop for once only to prevent you from falling. You had no strength to fight.

No strength to cry, to yell.

To say so many unspoken things like; “I would tell my mother but you’re not one.”

And you smiled at the thought…you smiled at the thought of leaving this hell hole of an apartment and life behind.

You felt so trapped and unwanted that some times, it seemed hard to breathe in here with her. Like it would be bad and it would annoy her.

“I’m sorry.” She said, “You hear me…?”

And you heard.

But it was too late for her to be forgiven.

You heard her repeat these words for so long, know it now by heart because you actually believed in them. Believed in her.

You had hoped that one day, she’ll pass through her anger and see the damage she causes.

“How could I be this cruel to my little girl…My love forgive me please.” She pleaded with tears in her eyes.

“I did that.” She fell on her knees with you and broke down in tears, “I fucking hurt you again! I don’t deserve you…I’m so sorry Y/n”

“I know that it hurts, honey, but that’s what happens when you don’t do what I say.”

“If you Ever leave, I’ll die…hm? You don’t want mama dead, right??”

“It will never happen again– I promise, I’m so sorry, so sorry.”

Tears. Pleads. Yells.

They never really ended.

And that was mainly the reason your mother’s tears didn’t affect you anymore.

“Talk to me Y/n!! Say something— a-anything!” She pleaded, searching deep into your eyes…maybe some kind of feelings you didn’t shown for years now.

“Y/N YOU HEAR ME?” She shook your body worryingly so you could look down at her, and as you stare at her face with nothing but dead eyes, not a word was spoken from your lips.

“So that’s what’s going to happen? You’ll stand there, watch me cry while you say nothing?…Talk god dammit!”

She yelled.

It's a little disconcerting how deeply she's looking into your eyes, as if she's searching for something. The intense eye contact only serves to thicken the tension between the two of you as she waits for your answer.

She was your mother, yes— by the name, but not at all by heart. You couldn’t feel the love radiating off of her body when she caressed you like before. That woman didn’t know you at all and it made you let a hollow laugh at the realisation.

The only thing you did was to take her arms off of you. You looked down defeatedly and turned around to the only place you could find a little peace.

Your room.

“Y/n.” She called as she followed you, but you didn’t halt as she expected and step up your pace.

“Where are you going?? You think you can get away that easy?” She called out behind you. “You enjoyed it deeply inside you, didn’t you? Are you that greedy?!”

Finis.

That’s all it took for you to come to a stop.

Your voice barely audible as you choked the words, “You think of me that low?”

Your back was still facing her tremulous self, hiding the harden your face had formed. There are times, when words drill into your skin deeper than any weapon you’ve ever think of. And the repeat of the same mistakes she makes, has you feeling drilled in holes.

An emptiness.

You couldn’t believe what your ears heard.

No. You must have been mistaken.

Been harassed and then blamed for liking it by your own blood?

Past the limits.

“You don’t seem to deny it…”

There was a pause, instant regret in her voice. She knew the things she said was too fucked up to the situation yet she couldn’t help but utter them, not counting the damage it could cause you yet again.

“The least you could do…” You tried not to sound angry, “Is not to talk. Did not wait any better from you anyways.”

And the door closed.

There was once a boy who was very angry. His father, gave him a bag of nails and told him that every time he lost his temper he would have to nail a nail against the fence.

On the first day, the boy had nailed 37 nails to the fence. Over the next few weeks, as he learned to control his anger, the number of nails gradually decreased. He found it easier to keep his cool rather than nail the nails to the fence.

Finally the day came when the boy did not get angry at all. He said it to his father and he told him that now, each time he kept his composure he would have to unpin a nail. The days passed, and the little boy finally told his father that he had removed all the nails.

The father took his son and guide him to the fence. He said, "You've done well, son, but look at the holes in the fence. Never will the fence be the same. When you say things while you're angry, they leave scars like these. You can stab someone and then pull the knife. No matter how many times you apologize, the wound will be there."

The little boy then understood the power words held. He looked at his father regretfully and said, "Father, I hope you can forgive me for the holes I made to you."

"Of course I can," answered his father.

It's not always anger, but your actions in general. There are no "new beginnings" in life. There is no new beginning. Many people forgive easily, but the scars of the past never go away. Be careful of what you say today because sometimes the price isn't worth the reward.

_—_–.

What seems to be something, is far from what it actually may be. We don’t always need words to clarify our sense. Some pictures speak for themselves louder than words do.

Hope you enjoyed!

#firstpost ©𝘈𝘤𝘩𝘣𝘣𝘺𝘴000 𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

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What i was hearing while writing this;

[sillygoblinantics]

I CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE

I’ve held my tongue for too long about my feelings on madhouse but fucking hell!

Unless by some fucking act of arceus or universe hands me the fucking concept art that went into this horrible webcomic- I got room to rip and tear!

This is:

Goblin’s Valid Autopsy of Lily Orchard’s PokéMadhouse

Before we go forward!

Hi. I’m Gobbo or Bri (pick ya poison), I’m a current student at Savannah College of Art and Design (as for campus I ain’t saying nothing) Im working on my bachelors in Animation and minoring in Creative Writing. My Concentration starting as 2d animation later switching it to Story and Concept in animation (back in 2021). I started in 2019 and it’s… 2024 now. Don’t judge me! I’ve been mentored by comic artist, storyboarders and many more in the industry! I’ve taken storyboarding and a plethora of writing classes to have enough qualifications under my belt to properly discuss the shit writing, lacking worldbuilding, disorganized plot hole ridden lore/arcs and horrible inconsistent art. So let’s not waste another moment and dive fucking in!

Story:

I’m not using Lily’s self review tvtropes to cover this. It’s disingenuous ego stroking at full blast.

We follow the highs and lows that are the “will they won’t they” relationship between the stated as sisters, Lily and her Gardevoir, G (yes that’s her fucking name). In a Sunday newspaper comic page esc structure. With bits and pieces of trivia and lore that rarely comes up if not to push and pull sympathy points for lilys self insert as she gets assaulted and violated in physical and mental ways. An arc being called “Violate” and later following the would be time span for gestation of a baby that would then become the labeled cryptid child.

I’m gonna be real there’s no point in reading it because the moment something big happens out of the blue there wasn’t a page missing to explain it which god fucking dammit Lily do I need to give you one of those brainframe sheets or outline templates if you decide to write a story? Because I’ll gladly provide them!

How do you consider yourself a fucking writer at all with your fundamental lack of care for lore and story like- for fucks sake woman it won’t kill you!

Characters

Lily

G

Mikayla

Marah

Bonnie

Mismagius

Other hardly seen or used Pokémon that get thrown away out of nowhere

Countless stolen ocs

And Dr Ponytail (yes that’s the fucking name of one of the “antagonists” and I’ve reread it so many times and found nothing!)

Lily has her “antagonists” being either ex friends or partners or someone who tries to call out bullshit! Fucking hell, the way Lily has g written it’s hard to not see HER AS ONE!

You have all these characters and you neglect so many of them to focus on making your favorite Dollies kiss and scissor or do nothing!

You don’t punish actual rapists either like legit what do you do when your Pokémon who’s been raised like a sister your whole life admits to mindfucking you in a weird soul bond type deal (that you wrote the explanation of yourself), then out of fear swaps dna of a Pokémon of her CRITICALLY ENDANGERED SPECIES can match with to save it with your own dna to baby lock you to staying together, what’s the thing you decide to write?

Case in point: stick an entire cactus up your urethra Lily.

I need a break from this… I’m moving on to the art misdirection.

Lily you are the one commissioning these panels from Mikayla. Meaning you are telling her how to draw these making you the literal art director of this shitty comic!

You want my advice?

USE MODEL SHEETS

Like holy shit. I need to copy paste my spiel about what it is one second:

Make a turnaround for your character(s)!

(Excluding front and back you need to make left and right versions of the rest!)

Front

Back

over-the-shoulder

3/4 view

profile

expression sheets

color pallet reference

(if it’s online/digital rgb if it’s for print it’s cmyk)

include the hexcodes for artists if it’s a small production!

lineup for height and scale for comparison to:

other characters

backgrounds

props

etc.

elements of the world + floor plan in small settings

action poses

hair guide (trust me it’s important)

these are the elements every artist who wants to tell a visual story be it animated or comic always needs:

✨A PITCH BIBLE✨

And Lily, if you’re making any story that is

A. Tied to an existing property

B. Has real world/geopolitical/historic relation

C. Needing a basic understanding to science

Do everyone and yourself a favor

AND DO YOUR FUCKING RESEARCH IN MLA FORMAT INSTEAD OF SOMEONE ELSES OPINIONS AND YOUR ASS OF HOLDING BULLSHIT!

Class

Dismissed

Your homework is to get these books:

[spidernuggets]

Jason Todd x Reader

"When things get too heavy for you, you tell me, and we carry that shit TOGETHER, so it's not so heavy anymore!"

Warnings: misperception of cheating (Jason doesn't actually cheat, he'd never my baby boy mwah), mentions of alcohol, comparisons to Artemis, self-shaming

When Jason walked into your shared apartment, a faint smell of alcohol travelled through the air. This raised your suspicions even more.

Jason had told you last night he had gone on a quick emergency mission instead of his usual patrol, so he wasn't able to message or call you.

But last night, quickly popping into a nearby bar that your cousin worked at to drop off her house keys that she forgot she left with you, you saw a familiar black with a white streak hair man at the counter just when you were walking out the door. And for a split second, you could've sworn you saw a long-haired ginger woman beside him.

You shook the idea away, telling yourself that you trust Jason. Ever since Jason told you that he was Red Hood, the two of you pinky swore to never keep secrets from each other. You would've thought by then that Jason would've told you more about it, but he was pretty quiet about it. You figured that it was all the same mishaps for every patrol.

But you could smell his usual Coors Light wafting off of him as he walks towards you to kiss your head.

"Hey pretty," he barely mumbled before going into the kitchen, digging through the fridge.

As much as his little nicknames made your heart beat faster, you couldn't get the faint image of his hair and a certain Amazonian ex's hair together. And every second you thought of it, the more you could feel your heart crack a little further.

"Where were you last night?" Your voice was small, but the small, almost empty apartment made it easy for Jason to hear you.

"What? I told you, I was at a missi-"

"Don't lie to me. I know you weren't on a mission. I saw you." You spat. You wanted to be wrong. You wanted Jason to laugh at you, hug you, and call Dick or Bruce or anyone and tell them to tell you he was on a mission with them.

"Were you with Artemis?" You ask, wanting it all to be untrue.

Jason didn't look at you. He sighed. "Yeah? So what. It's not like anything happened." He said nonchalantly.

"You expect me to believe that after you lied to me about going on a mission and I catch you at a bar with your ex?" You scoff, your arms crossed and leg folded over the other. You sucked in a breath. "You know, you could've at least broken up with me. It would've felt nicer than you blatantly cheating on me without trying to let me know"

"Wait, what?" Jason said in disbelief. He couldn't say anything else. He didn't know how to explain his situation to you. So he stayed silent.

You slowly nodded your head. "Okay," you whispered, getting up to go to your shared bedroom. Well.. maybe not so shared bedroom now. You grabbed a bag, trying to stuff whatever you can into it.

Jason soon rushes in after you. "What- what are you doing??" He asks in a panic. "You're not leaving- you can't, please!" He begs.

You shook your head. "You left first! You left me by the time you let Artemis all over you! You know what- Honestly, I'm so stupid. Why the fuck would you want to be with someone like me anyway."

You didn't see Jason or Artemis all over each other that split second that you saw them. But now knowing that they definitely were together last night - that whole night, all you could imagine Jason realising that you weren't enough for him, that maybe he made a mistake separating with Artemis.

You wiped away the falling tears you didn't even know escaped your eyes as you zipped up the bag.

"No, wait! Don't leave- Dammit!" Jason fumbled over his words. "Nothing happened! She wasn't all over me! Just- Just stay, okay?? Nothing happened. Seeing her last night was just a one-time thing!"

You could hardly process what he was saying. There was ringing in your ears, and your vision was blurred. "Don't do that to me. Don't do that 'one-time' bullshit. If you really wanted me to stay, it should've been a zero time thing."

It was obvious that you thought you were a downgrade to Jason's past lovers. Or at least that's what you thought. But you found yourself so much less as a partner than his other lovers that all you can think about him going back to any of them.

"Listen, I'm sorry! I promise nothing happened! I won't lie to you again! It won'thaopen again!" He raises his voice, desperate for you to stay.

I slumped my shoulders. "How am I supposed to believe it won't happen again, huh? If it happened once, it's bound to happen again! How am i supposed to believe that you won't run off again to some other girl who's stronger, prettier and- and is just as badass as you are- I'm none of those things, Jason! If that's what you really wanted, then why even bother with me?!" You lay out all of your insecurities and weakness to Jason. Your breathing becomes heavy and uneven.

His brows furrowed. You were strong. You were beautiful. And you'd never even given him the chance to think you weren't.

"I'm not 'bothering' with you! What I really want is you! Not some other girl with muscles and-" He paused, trying to gather his words. And failing. He had no idea what the right thing to say was. All he knew for sure was that you were the only one he wanted. "I only want you."

"Then why the hell were you with Artemis in the first place?" You cried, throwing your bag over your shoulder, ready to leave.

"Look. It was just one time. I was at a weak place and- and she was there to help me. That's it. Nothing more." He tried to explain.

"So why not come to me if you're feeling that way, Jason?! That's literally what I'm here for, I'm here for you! Was I just not enough that you had to go to Artemis?!"

He growled, the question hitting a nerve. "You know I would tell you if something was bothering me. The reason I didn't is because- because I don't want to be a burden to you! You have enough shit knowing who I really am and I-"

He paused, swallowing. "You don't need me to be another bother in your life. You're strong, you're confident, you don't need me weighing you down with my bullshit."

You scoffed, pulling your hair back, your hand gripping against your hair. "Jesus Christ- I WANT you to weigh me down with your bullshit! That's my job when I decided to be in a relationship with you! When things get too heavy for you, you tell me, and we carry that shit TOGETHER, so it's not so heavy anymore! That's why I always talk to you when I have problems because I know you're there to help me! I know I know nothing about your life as a vigilante, and that Artemis is probably best suited for you, but I'm here, Jason! So don't you dare use that bullshit excuse on me!" You panted, tired and dried tears on your cheeks. You dropped yourself to sit on the bed, holding your face in your hands, your elbows resting on your knees.

You knew Jason had as many insecurities as you did. You knew the struggles he had as a vigilante. But you wanted him to come to you. You didn't want to push him by forcing him to tell you his problems.

Your words struck a chord in him. You wanted him. All of him. Not just the good parts but the bad parts as well. Even all his 'bullshit.' He took a step closer, testing the waters and putting his hands on your cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I never should have kept those things from you. I guess I just- I mean, I thought that you knowing about my life scared you enough. I didn't want to put more on you about my problems about my job too.." He weakly says, his head hanging low as he sits beside you on the bed. "I just thought... If I don't tell you any of this shit... you wouldn't be overwhelmed... and that you wouldn't leave."

You shook your head. "You're so selfish. You're so fucking selfish for thinking about those things about me. For thinking I'd leave you just because you're not perfect- I'm literally dating you because you're not perfect." You said quietly, your voice hoarse and raw.

Jason felt a lump grow in his throat. "I just didn't want to hurt you," he insisted, pressing his forehead against yours. "I just didn't want to lose you. And I messed everything up. But I promise you. Nothing happened between me and Artemis. You mean more to me than she ever has."

He sighed, looking into your eye. "Can you forgive me? Can we go back to the way things were?" He asked softly. "Please..." His quiet pleads were small and desperate. His eyes were soft and glossy, with hopes of you staying.

You slowly pulled away from him. "Get me my bag." You said with no emotion.

"What?" He said, feeling deflated and feeling his soul shatter.

"Just do it." You demanded.

His eyes closed as his shoulders slumped, feeling like he finally lost you, that you had really given up on him. His fingers tightened around his fists. After a moment, Jason went to get your bag across the room and brought it around to you, presenting the bag to you in his hands. He he stood in front of you, waiting for you to take the bag and leave.

"Now take the stuff out of it and put it back where they were," you muttered while sniffling.

His brows furrowed in confusion. "I-What?" His eyes widened slightly as he slowly realized what you were getting at. Your words suddenly caught up in his brain, and he realized exactly what you were asking of him. You weren't going anywhere. Jason rushed to take everything out of the bag and put them back where they belonged. He then stood in front of you, waiting for you to speak.

You shifted from your spot, laying yourself comfortably on the bed, your back facing him.

Like communicating telepathically, he laid next to you, just as you secretly wanted, ready to apologise for the millionth time until you spoke up.

You sighed and paused before speaking. "I'm not forgiving you. Not now, at least. And I doubt I'll forgive you tomorrow. Or the day after. But I will... Eventually.." You took a deep breath. "But I'm not leaving you. Because I love you. But if you pull this shit ever again, I might. And probably kill you. And from now on, you need to tell me shit you're going through. No matter how bullshit it may seem. So that you don't have to lie to me or find comfort someplace else. So that I can understand you.. And so that you wouldn't feel the need to go find some other girl who you think can carry your weight better than I can. Understand?" You said, avoiding eye contact.

"I understand," Jason finally said with a nod. He reached out his hand to touch your face. "I'm sorry. You mean the world to me. I don't want to lose you either. And you're right... I won't keep things from you anymore. You'll be the first to know now..."

You slowly nodded, finally looking in his eyes. You let yourself cuddle closer to him. As you pressed yourself against him, he wrapped his arms around you in a tight squeeze. His fingers traced your spine, and he breathed in the scent of your hair. He was so grateful that you weren't leaving... That you were still willing to give him another chance.

"I love you," he whispered, holding you close.

I need constructive criticism. did i make reader or whole thing too dramatic or... I NEED FEEDBACK

[wafflexdguy]

In that case,

Please, more V x Reader HC. They’re filling the void all the fanfic sites are refusing to fill

If you need a specific ‘subject’ for them, how about their reactions / emotions when the Reader takes them on the first date?

Murder Drones | V Dating Headcanons

Woah, she's definitely one of the most datable characters of all time.

Her specific reactions to it is one of confusion and the literal definition of "FUUCCCCKKKK YESSSSSSSS!!!!!!", and she won't really make it known. You'll ask her to go on a date to whatever place you want, be that a mall, restaurant (which would be weird, since they can't eat) or whatever, their visible reaction is all the same.

"Sure, whatever."

"...That's it?"

"Did you expect a bigger reaction? And I thought you were more sophisticated than that."

"sHUSH-"

Whenever she isn't around you, she's probably (most likely) panicking about what just happened. You just asked her out on a date, and now she's thrown into this situation where you'd see out of a cliche movie.

What should she wear? What should she say? What does she do? She should just call this whole thing off.

Obviously, she doesn't. Otherwise, we wouldn't have headcanons here besides reactions.

She'd probably go to Lizzy to deal with the dress problem. Lizzy would probably inquire about what the occasion was, and V will just deflect it; just using the excuse of the upcoming prom, or funeral, depending on which episode you're placing yourself in.

She'd probably trust N enough to tell him about your date request, and dammit, he'll do his best to be the best wingman. He'll give advice to V about what she should say, about your interests, all the basic things you'd probably expect from a wingman that actually possibly know what he's doing or saying.

She'd be internally biting her -Non-Existent- fingernails as the day of the date comes upon her, and she might as well have been overheating about it all. Her inner worker drone self is starting to unravel, but she presses on anyway.

Obviously, how the whole date goes about depends on what you're doing.

If you're taking initiative, (I.e flirting, being extroverted, pointing out her blush on her visor that she's trying to desperately wipe away, etc), she's embarrassed. How dare you take lead on being the flirty asshole? That's her job!

Maybe you'll inquire about what she was doing the days before, and she won't mention she was freaking out to N while Uzi was secretly watching from a corner snickering at her. She'll just say that she was 'getting oil, hanging out with Lizzy. The usual.'

If you weren't taking initiative, (I.e being about as blushy as V was, letting her to all of the talking while you were just staring at her, etc) than she'll be a lot more... devious. I don't know how else to explain it.

She'll put her head in her hands while she teases you about being blushy mushy wushy, completely ignoring that she was damn near doing the same thing moments prior.

"Awwww, is somebody embarrassed?"

"You're just as embarrassed as me right now! Shut up!"

"..."

Don't mind that she was sweating bullets, because more than likely she was waiting for you when you were on your way to the agreed spot for the date.

When all is said and done, she'll probably think 'this wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.' Of course, she's going to be kind of patting herself on the back for a job well done.

V probably isn't the best person to go on a date with if you're a worker drone, given her... past with them. Same goes for humans. But she certainly tried her best, whether she was thinking about it or not.

[bunji-enthusiast]

If I'm not bothering you then can you make a sonic exe x reader?

Where exe is able to leave and go back into the game anytime he wants and reader isn't scared of him at all after the first time they met

Then during a strong storm (no rain just strong winds and loud thunder) the whole house becomes black and exe tries to use that to his advantage to scare reader, with her famous chase around the house as reader is litting some candles on but of course he fails in scaring them so in the end they just end up cuddling together on the couch for the rest of the night

It's very simple it's just what I have on my mind for now sorry XD

Long Into The Abyss — Sonic.EXE

Note || that’s fine! A very neat idea :>

WC || 1,527

Sypnosis || Your a hard person to scare, he wonders how he can even deal with that. But soon enough he gives up on the idea.

The first time you had met him was the only time you truly were scared of your fluffy blue friend ridden with malice and lust for murder, though it was only upon those originally living in his world he had inflicted it upon. He thought it to be interesting to scare the hell out of you when your poor innocent soul came across his corrupted game.

Watching the way you panicked when trying to look for a way out for Tails was amusing, but when he had finally made his infamous appearance upon the screen. That was more amusing than anything, the way you screamed when he did. 

Now utter confusion just simply fills him when he realizes you aren’t as phased by his antics anymore, not even when he appears outside of the game in your house.

“What the hell?” He muttered when you continued playing various different routes of his game, he intentionally had created them on purpose to see if he could scare you again. Even then every time with your attempts to save Tails, Knuckles and even Eggman; you weren’t scared anymore. Just only cursing when you mess up.

“Dammit.” You curse under your breath when you're on one of the death routes, you kept forgetting about this specific one. 

“No no, no no-” 

The death screen appears, detailing the very specific death of your poor character. You wince in an apologetic manner for putting him through it again. “Sorry, I’m trying my best here.” He then decides to appear right next to you, swirls of glitches and blurriness permeating his arrival.  

“Oh hey!” You said, noticing him from the corner of your eye.

“How are you not afraid?” He interjects in a curious yet amused tone, sincerely he was curious to know how you can maintain such a calm and ready manner even while playing. The demonic hedgehog floats around you from behind, while he was albeit rude and murderous at times, he wasn’t about to break your concentration. 

“I dunno?” You shrug, before adding on, “I got used to it I guess.” He raises a brow, seemingly confused with the answer you gave. But only with humans could they actually answer this way, it would only make sense, he concludes. For a few moments he blinks, giving you an incredulous look nonetheless. 

“I see.”

Then he disappears into the air, leaving you alone in your own company once more. You were actually getting used to the bloody hedgehog, in a way. You wonder if he will come back around at all once again. “Too bad.” You shrug, turning your attention completely back on the game. You wanted to see what else you could find while you still were in the game, you thought he was interesting for even creating more routes.

You know this because you remember them all not being there near the beginning, since your first official meeting with the self-proclaimed god. 

“Alright Knuckles, let's see if I can do a better job with you.” You pause in your gait, feeling a little hopeless for continually failing them multiple times in a row. You wonder if you should just actually stop playing the game altogether, you caused them enough pain. 

‘Am I actually causing them pain? They aren’t even real.’ You thought to yourself, but this wasn’t anything new to you. You often just played games for fun, this one in particular wasn’t any different, even if it was a corrupted game file. 

You didn’t know what to do, but just searched far and wide – as extensively as possible. You grew up with them sort of, they were your childhood imaginary friends. There for you so that you didn’t feel so alone at recess, in school or just anywhere in general. Popularity was not your most dominant trait growing up, especially not now. 

But they were your friends, so was he. 

–

The whole storm threw you completely off guard, you just wanted to go back home. You got yourself caught in the middle of it when you dropped off something at a friend’s, you certainly didn’t expect it least of all during your way back home. But you were close to being there, that was the fortunate part of it. 

“Crap-” A strong wind nearly threw you off course, but you immediately corrected yourself and got back on track. Your house was appearing in view, finally you could pull back into the driveway. 

Once in the driveway, you turned your car off and opened the door, you suddenly got the wind knocked out of you when you left the car. You heaved as you caught your breath, trying your best to close the door then ran straight for the door. Even in the midst of it all, you were surprised that you managed to find your way back in the dark. 

The loud sounds of all the thunder didn’t help you though.

You yelped as another loud sound of crackling thunder resounded in your ears, this certainly by no means was a normal storm. This was a very harsh storm, you had to get inside.

“C-Come on,” You shook in the cold outside, fiddling with your key to unlock the door. It was a struggle that demanded concentration and patience, nothing of which you really had right now. “Sonuva- ugh.” Your lips pursed in tight posterity as you finally succeeded in unlocking the door. 

It made you question why you shouldn’t have just gotten one of those security locks, or even the padlocks would’ve just worked fine and dandy. 

You look around at your familiar house, finding the usual safety and comfort in it. Only problem being, the whole house was smothered in darkness. You could’ve sworn you left at least some lights on, you were aware you usually forget to turn them off before you leave, but they really would help in your predicament right now.

Your feet were light, you creeped around the house as if you were afraid something would suddenly jump out at you from beyond the dark. Sometimes you weren’t afraid of the dark, other times you were very afraid of the damned dark. Something flickered in the corner of your peripherals, causing you to jump. 

It felt like the ligament holding your eyes tightly in their sockets will just fall out from the way they had nearly bulged that far out. 

“Jesus christ-”

Only a few minutes had passed now, successfully lighting a few candles around the house. You definitely felt more comfortable and less afraid now. Suddenly you could hear a few thumps resound from behind you, you looked behind your shoulder to see it was him. 

“RUN.”

You absolutely didn’t need to be told twice, not when he was feeling particularly murderous right now. Dying this young was not on your bucket list, you took off and immediately grabbed the lighter to begin lighting every other candle in the house. 

Still, he had spoken while he chased you, “You're fast! Not bad at all.” You could hear that bone-chilling laugh echo throughout the halls. Still, you didn’t allow yourself to falter. 

NOPE, NOPE, NOPE–

You find yourself at the last candle you could find, and light it. You turn around to see the bloody hedgehog standing behind you, no longer possessing a ‘god-fearing’ appearance. He just looked innocent and rather small compared to you. 

He huffs and sighs, shoulders relenting in defeat. “You're impossible, you little gnat.” At his words, you chuckle and nod, crossing your arms with a tilt of your head, “So I’ve been told, can’t scare me easily with all this light now can you?” You stuck your tongue out when you finished speaking. 

“I suppose not.” He snaps with a very clearly annoyed disposition, legs folding into a crossed sitting position while his elbow laid to rest for him to rest his cheek on the palm of his hand. His other one tapped the end of his knee on his other leg. 

You shot a glare at the demon-possessed hedgehog, “Well don’t be like that, we could just maybe be cuddle buddies instead?”

One of his ears flicker at the possible insinuation in your offer, brows furrowing as he replied, “What kind of a ridiculous demand is that?”

Your head rolls around as if you were trying to bite back some sort of desperation spilling from your words, you inhale, mouth opened as you attempt to speak. Then you close your mouth, lips pursing in a bout of self-defeat. 

He notices this, his ears falling flat as he sighs. Voice glitching with a bout of nervousness, “Get on the couch.”

You let out a squeak of excitement, not having to wait for him to repeat it again you had already made your way there. You patted the cushion seat beside you, wanting not to wait another second. He wonders to himself why he even agreed to this in the first place, he wasn’t like this to anyone else who played his game.

So why do you seem so different? You were just another possibility of a victim.

But he gives in, climbing onto the couch with you.

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

Oh these two idiots are both so gone.

Ooh, "creating art is about exploring what you like" is a nice line. So often we put too much into feeling like creativity has to end up with a good product, and less about what it can teach us about ourselves.

I like how this show talks about art. And New is making it so clear here that he does put a part of himself in all of his shows, whatever people might think. Respect.

And we're normalizing taking breaks and that you can't be productive and creative all the time! Fabulous.

We love a queen who makes the most of her background time.

I mean, valid question Peem, but also - pot, kettle, etc, etc.

Oh god, their actual boyfriend era is going to end me.

You know what I really love about this Phum/Peem scene? They're making it clear that mutual attraction is just one piece of the relationship puzzle. But the friendship still needs to be there, the caring when someone is having a bad day, and being there to pick them up. So many BLs gloss over the mutual support part of romantic relationships in favor of the swoony bits, but this is the kind of thing that makes a couple seem likely to actually last.

Also what does it say about BLs that I was so relieved they actually rolled up their pant legs at the pool? (Of course they still end up wet in the end, but it's the principle of the thing!)

Phum is just 100% always thirsty for Peem and I respect it.

Haha, love Q being all "hands off my baby, stat".

And they're communicating so openly! My sweeties.

Omg, omg, Fang trying to teach himself to express tenderness to Tan, I cannot.

Just go slow Fang, or you may kill this man with happiness!

Aaaaaah, not Pun finding a little bird and wanting to help it, going to Chain (of course), AND naming it Penguin.

I am already at lethal levels of cuteness overload, and we haven't even gotten to the FangTan scene yet.

Staawwwp.

Lolol, of course he got sick, he got wet for 30 seconds. But again we get the subversion, we're paying tribute to the sick trope, but not fully engaging! Heh, this show is so fun.

Has anyone else noticed the slight tone shift for Phum when he's talking to Peem? There's a new softness to it and it's adorable.

Toey, no, no crying wolf to your boyfriend!

But the pencil case thing is adorable.

I think the Peem and Q friendship chemistry might be my favorite in the whole show.

Lol, not Peem letting slip he slept with Phum last night!

Beer, you are such a champion. Good wingmanning, while also not excusing Phum's bad behaviors.

Oh, baby Phum being sent away, that's heart-breaking. No wonder he has walls like that.

I am loving these reveals with Fang. He's such an internal character, so we are unpeeling the layers slowly. But seeing how annoyed he is to not be able to reach Tan, and how fast Tan is able to make him smile again, makes it so clear how much he really needs him.

And the way he smiles so big when he thinks no one can see, but goes right back to pouty face with Tan because it gets him the attention he craves...

Whoever dressed Q for this series, I love you.

Phum going from self-doubt to full steam ahead the moment he gets reassurance his feelings are returned is delightful to see.

Omg, domestic Fang and Tan. But also Fang, you can learn to cook other things, y'know?

Lolol, Fang absolutely loves Tan's antics, it's so freaking adorable.

Aou and Boom always frickin bring it, we thank you for your service boys.

Also more trope play! Tan holding Fang down in the cliche way, but Fang still showing agency and not playing the blushing maiden. Perfect.

Ok, I liked the Kluen scene. He's being shown as a real person with a life of his own, he's not just the "rival". And Peem is being more straightforward with him.

Hahaha, Chain short-circuiting more and more as Pun gets closer.

MATT, WHAT THE HELL?! You do not interfere with my crumbs, dammit!!

Omg, not Chain just blurting out that he likes being shipped with Pun.

I love that everyone is shocked by Phum except for Beer, who is just like "yup".

I do typically hate public declarations, but I will let it go here, because the friend group is the key to the whole series.

Also, Pun is drunk again, so Chain better be ready for some biting! Chomp, chomp.

[bleucaesura]

STOLITZØ - FORTY FIVE

Blitzø clung desperately to his dreams, not wanting to leave them. They’d felt so real, so warm, so comforting. He’d missed his mother so much… But he couldn’t hold on forever; dreams being what they were.

His eyes felt like they had to be unzipped. He had to concentrate really hard to even peel one of them open a crack.

And thaaaaaat’s enough effort for me…

He couldn’t move. He didn’t feel paralyzed or restrained, just… Powerless.

Someone taze me… F*******ck…

Blitzø squinted and tried to make out his surroundings.

Ceiling. Yup. That’s a ceiling. So I’m inside… Ok.. Some… Um… Hmmm… Oh… Fluorescent lights…? Thank Satan they’re off, my sh*t can’t take THAT right now… Oh look. A window. With a view. Of… night… Aaaaaand rain…

Blitzø tried to swallow

FuuuuuuUUUUUUuuuuck…

It felt like someone had rubbed his throat raw with sad paper.

He tried to lick his lips.

Satan’s a** crack! Who turned my tongue into a f*cking Brillo pad!

Blitzø cried inside.

As he wallowed in self-pity, Blitzø heard a faint ruffle of fabric over by the window. He managed to open his eye a little wider and looked to find the source.

Asmodeus?

The not-so-big man himself stood by the window in his smallest form. The one Blitzø had seen him wear at the Clown Pageant red carpet.

Must be what he wears to blend in…

Asmodeus glanced over at Blitzø, did a double take, looked over somewhere out of Blitzø’s line vision, then moved to Blitzø’s bedside as quietly as he could.

“Blitzø?” Asmodeus whispered, reaching out to touch his hand.

Blitzø tried to answer but only managed a squeak.

F*cking throat. I better not sound like a f*cking squeaky balloon forever.

“Hold on. I’ll go get a doctor and let everyone know you’re awake.”

Blitzø panicked - he wasn’t sure why… Maybe he didn’t want to be left alone?

He managed to grab Asmodeus’s hand before he got away. Asmodeus looked down at him quizzically.

Blitzø tried to swallow and lick his lips again, wanting to talk, but cringed in pain.

“Oh! Water!” Asmodeus turned for a moment, pulling up a chair and a little side table, sat and showed Blitzø a cup of ice chips. “Sorry. This is all I can do for now.”

Blitzø managed to crook what passed as a smile. Asmodeus nodded and smiled back.

Blitzø felt himself being lifted. He heard a whirring and realized Asmodeus must be raising his bed into a sitting position.

Oh look! There’s my hands… And my feet… And…

Blitzø’s heart clenched. Across the room was Loona, Moxxie, Millie and Fizz. He felt tears well up and he thought his heart might actually explode.

The room was dark, so he peeled his other eye open so he could see better. Blitzø could make out a couch and an armchair against the far wall. Fizz was curled up in the chair, in a big fuzzy blanket, like a burrito. Loona, Moxxie and Millie shared the couch.

They never share. Let alone… Cuddle?

Millie had fallen asleep sitting up. Loona was stretched across the couch, but with her head in Millie’s lap, and Millie’s arm around her. And Moxxie…

Satan f*cking dammit Moxxie…

Loona was spooning and holding Moxxie like he was a little Satan fucking teddy bear she’d fallen asleep with.

I’m going to f*cking KILL you Moxxie! Loony won’t even HUG ME!

Asmodeus watched as Blitzø looked at the others.

“They all refused to leave.”

Blitzø looked at him in surprise.

Asmodeus placed an ice chip to Blitzø’s lips for him to suck on.

Ooooooh sweet baby Charlie, that's woooooonderfuuuul…

“Yeah…” Asmodeus looked lovingly over at Fizzarolli. “They’ve all been really worried about you. I should really wake them.”

Blitzø lifted his fingers, managed to force a swallow down and squeaked “No.”

“What? Why?”

Blitzø looked at the others. His heart swelling. He didn’t want to ruin this moment. He crooked a smile.

“Let… Them rest..”

Asmodeus raised an eyebrow looking from Blitzø to the others and back. He sighed. “Oh kay then…”

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence, Asmodeus passing Blitzø ice chips as he finished them.

“I hear you confessed to my man” Asmodeus raised an eyebrow at Blitzø.

Blitzø almost choked on a last bit of ice in his mouth.

Asmodeus chuckled quietly.

“I’m only teasing,” he placed another chip at Blitzø’s lips. “You’d be crazy not to love my Fizzy.” He winked.

Blitzø blushed.

“But we both know it’s not Fizzy you’re in love with,” Asmodeus looked Blitzø in the eyes. “Is it you feisty little imp?”

Asmodeus grinned down at Blitzø mischievously.

Blitzø felt like his face was on fire, he was so embarrassed.

Stolas…

Blitzø’s heart flipped. He looked around the room.

“Sto..” he tired to choke out.

Asmodeus pursed his lips.

Blitzø’s heart sank. He felt tears threatening to rise.

Of course he wouldn’t be here… Why would he be…? Don’t be f*cking stupid…

Asmodeus saw Blitzø’s anguish and got really flustered, he started to ramble.

“Stolas uh… I’m not supposed to… Sh*t… Look…” Asmodeus looked around, then leaned in closer. “He told me not to say anything. But, Stolas hasn’t left your side.”

Blitzø looked at him skeptically.

“I mean obviously except now” Asmodeus laughed sheepishly. “His daughter forced him to leave and have a proper meal, though I’m sure he won’t stay away long.”

Asmodeus sat back and looked over at the others, smiling to himself.

“They’ve all been taking turns sitting vigil at your bedside.” Asmodeus looked at Blitzø. “Stolas has only left your room when someone specifically requested it. Otherwise, he’s existed solely in this room since your accident.”

They sat in silence. Blitzø didn’t know what to say. Or think.

“Don’t you dare tell Stolas I told you that though,” Asmodeus said. “Not sure what he’d do to me… But I’m not fond of the idea of floating around in outer-space.”

Blitzø tried to imagine that. It made him smile.

“Yeah I bet that’s funny,” Asmodeus smirked.

Blitzø smiled sheepishly. He tried to look apologetic.

Asmodeus waved him off.

Blitzø began to feel groggy. He eyelids started feeling heavier and heavier.

“You’re sure you don’t want me waking anyone up?” Asmodeus asked. “See you before you drift off?”

Blitzø slow blinked. “Lay-ter… Look…” He looked over at the others. “Ha-pee”

Asmodeus nodded.

Blitzø smiled. “Sleep now…” he drifted off into cozy dreams.

*****

[viablemess]

I have a lot of feelings about the Durin Family, Fili in Particular

---Howdy folks it is that time of year again where i go absolutely feral for Fili Durin. He is underappreciated and tumblr has addressed that but i feel an URGE to add to the discourse so here I am. This post is not done, fyi. I will add more to it later.

It's 10pm/22:00. I just got home from class. I'm waiting for my ramen water to boil. There is a fireplace and some holiday lights. Let's have a (fireside)chat.

First of all, the constant tying of Fili and Kili together?? Like I get it. Merry and Pippin parallels. I love parallels (looking at you, George), but come on. Chill, just a tad. I know Tolkein didn't give you much to go by, but he didn't even write tauriel into the books or Bolg and yall ran with that anyways. Use your creative brains, pls, I'm actually begging you.

ANYWAYS. Have them develop separately even if only a little. Kili is the younger one, literally viewed younger bc he has the smallest itty bitty beard. He is not the heir, he is the spare, and could have some deep rooted personal insecurities about that as a result. He may feel that he deeply has to prove himself to Thorin bc he does not have a set role in the future like Fili does. Kili gets his romance with Tauriel, which--khgf;ushfw;e uneneccary, but I can appreciate the attempt to broaden the target market and appeal to a romance audience even if the previews did not hint at that happening at all so it would not have been a marketable trait per say but I digress. Again with the parallels of forbidden romance, poor Legolas still does not get any, we know, he was not even in the books really either, let's move on.

Kili is babied by the company, needs to prove himself, his mother made him promise to return to him so he is still deeply in the "coming of age" side of things (a lot of the company is, but that's a topic for another word vomit fireside chat). He begins to realize that he might like elves which goes against his family and he was already the spare, might as well go all in and fall in love with an elf. Fine. I can deal with that. But let's see more of Kili messing up, more so than just the trolls. Let's see him make silly goofy mistakes more. The company always tries to keep him out of the line of fire by making him an archer (heh) and keeping him off the front lines. They do everything to protect him, bc Dis is a terrifying woman, ansd if she made Kili promise to return to her, dammit, the company will return him to her if it is the last thing they do. Kili likely spends less time with Thorin and Dwalin than his brother, so here he is, questioning his own self worth and if he belongs in the party and his own abilities while coming of age and sticking out from his family even more, so why not rebel a little? why not be an archer which is not as glorified, why not consider shaving to meet cross cultural beauty standards, why not date the elf (dammit, I'm convincing myself for Tauriel's presence and I hate that). He's trying his best and messing up along the way, and is INNOCENT. Completely. He is aware of his ancestry and what happened, but he and Bilbo are the two being narrated to when telling of the Durin family history, and as a result, the differences in dwarven / hobbit culture could be explored further. Thorin has a little kiddo to watch out for, and maybe is softer around, because even Thorin knows Kili is young, maybe even too young to be here but if they didn't let him come he would have snuck after them, so we get to see a more forgiving, family-man Thorin who we do not see anywhere else (and yes we get that at the end of the movie but I'm getting to my critique of the (I almost called it a keldabe wrong fandom) forehead touch with a name I cannot recall later).

Onto his brother. Fili is the heir, okay. So, that means that he is likely raised very differently from Kili. Whereas Kili may have had some time to play and be a kid (as much as they could in the Blue Mountains as refugees, anyways), Fili likely was given no such privilege. He followed Thorin around like a lost puppy, watching his every move and trying to imitate it, because he knew he would have to do Thorin's job someday. Even if Thorin did get married / have a kid / etc there would likely still be a window where Fili was in charge before Thorin's kid came of age, and as the years went on, the chances of that happening diminished, and so Fili threw himself more and more into his crown-prince-studies. Maybe a little obsessively, just like his uncle, who had practically stepped into the role as father. Because Fili thought he had to be Thorin. Thorin, meanwhile, saw the King that Fili could be, and that King was so much better than him. Fili grew up humble as a result of them all being refugees, something Thorin did not have to learn until much later and even then he never fully got it. Fili was kind, because he saw the suffering of his people, and understood how large of a difference a small act could make. Fili also had the teachings of Thorin drilled into him, because Thorin's problem was that whenever he saw Fili, he also saw Frerin. Frerin was Thorin's younger brother, just as blond as Fili, and (I'm assuming) played a roll in Fili's name (both starting with F). Frerin died at the Battle of Azanulbizar, and Thorin remembers that battle, he remembers losing his little brother. He can understand the fear that Fili feels whenever the company encounters a fight because he has felt the same in the worst of ways. But, because Thorin understands, he pushes Fili to be better than him. Even if that pushing is too much, too hard, too fast, too young--Thorin knows that Fili can be better than him, and Thorin does not want Fili to suffer as he has suffered, so he does everything in his power to prepare Fili for what is to come, and because Thorin loves him, that is all he does. He pours that love out as motivation and pushes Fili to do more, do everything, and do it better than he did. Fili, being young, does not realize this. He just sees it as Thorin preparing him to be king, and quite brutally at that, but Thorin is the closest thing he has to a father, Fili is not going to question it, not for anything, except for his little brother. And that just hurts Thorin, because he knows that, had he had the chance, he would have died to save Frerin at Azanulbizar. He knows Fili would do the same for Kili, but they are both so, so young. Thorin fears he could lose them both in one go, if he is not careful. So he is harsh, he scares them, he is forceful, because they do not have time for care and coddling, that won't keep them safe.

Whereas the company sees Kili as carefree and fun, Fili is cold, like his uncle. He is stone, and observant, and polite. He has to be Thorin, AND everything that Thorin is not. It is an impossible task, but he has to try. That is what is expected of him, not just by his mother and uncle, but by the entire people that is behind him, waiting for him to ascend to be king. He does not get a choice. The only one who can pull him out of that rut is his brother, with whom he actually feels like he can be what he is -- barely older than a kid.

Im gonna let that sink in for a second. They're CHILDREN.

anyways.

So, Kili gets his romance plot. It's cute and it parallels. And I've established that Kili must prove himself, and Fili will bend over backwards to make Thorin happy, which likely also extends to Dis, his mother.

I imagine Dis gave Kili the river rock to come back home, and she told Fili "be safe, don't be stupid, etc etc" but HIGHLIGHTED "take care of your brother", and Thorin does the same in the movies.

So, when Kili galavants up the bridge to open the gate after the party does a little slip and slide down the river, Fili naturally goes with. He sees that Kili is about to get shot. And Fili, who knows above all else he has to be king and he has to take care of Kili, just does the normal heroric thing and jumps in front, and he gets shot.

He is chastized for it, for being stupid, but overall they both are thanked for getting them out of the mess, and there is no time to waste because the company has to leave, and Fili (like what Kili did albeit maybe with more conviction) will not let others help him, or show weakness. So Fili continues on, poisoned, and Kili has the guilt of knowing his brother took an arrow meant for him. Fili must suffer the consequences of being a hero, and Kili must suffer the consequences of being the youngest, and feeling guilty for not taking responsibility for his own actions.

This all boils over to a fight where Kili tells Fili that "I made the choice to go up there, I didn't ask you to intervene!" because dammit Kili wants to be treated like an adult and FIli just took that away from him, again.

Fili, naturally, retorts, "I just did what I had to, because you know what? mom didn't tell me to come home--all she told me, all everyone ever tells me--is to take care of you! So I don't matter, not to this family, not in the same way you do. You're a son. I'm a prince."

Which, ouch. Slap in the face to Kili, and maybe the company overhears. Kili feels slighted, but also maybe is starting to understand, he can be a kid, Fili cannot. And Fili, meanwhile, is about to break from the weight of expectations that feels heavier than the lonely mountain ever could.

So, Kili stays with Fili when they get to Bard's, because it is what Fili would have done for him. Thorin is pissed, but lets it go, because Kili isn't Fili, and ouch, again.

I imagine Bofur helps quite a bit, he has a kind soul and listens better than most, and while Fili is delirious with fever Bofur talks him through it. Kili gets to be more coherent with Tauriel, and we get to see if their relationship actually holds up outside of a "she saved my life I love her" style of interaction which bleh is cliche as all get out.

and PLEASE when the dwarves do get out of Bard's house, they get to actually help Bard deal with the dragon. I read a fic a long time ago (if I find it I'll link it and the author below) where Fili had to be Bard's arrow anchor instead of Bard's son and I just chef's kiss. The dwarves who are left get to help the humans, and they feel more sympathy for them. Maybe they witness more death, and so when the dwarves do turn their backs on the humans later, Fili, Kili, Bofur, Bifur & crew are like "wait wtf they have suffered enough" unlike their future indifference we see in the movie.

and THEN all the dwarves arrive at the mountain, and Fili and Kili actually get welcomed home like the family they ARE, but it's stunted, because something is wrong with Thorin. He is glad to see Kili and Fili, but barely spares them a glance. They've heard the rumors and stories, of gold sickness. They begin to wonder, and we get to see them talk (probably with Bilbo) about the concept in secret where everyone is looking for the arkenstone. We get to see Kili with his hero worship refuse to believe Thorin would fall under a gold thrall. We get to see Fili, who is afraid of becoming like Thorin, too scared to enter the treasury unless immensly pressured to do so, and even then someone is always with him, because he worries. He still holds the ruby Thorin threw at him, and he keeps it in his pocket. He holds it so tight the edges cut his palm, and the pain seems to distract him from the wealth that surrounds him. I always wondered if Thorin gave Fili that ruby because he was the heir, or the only dwarf with so much gold about their person, with his hair. It was what Thorin saw first, not because it was his nephew, but because he looked like the very thing that already clawed Thorin down into his own demise.

AND NOW the war starts. and this needs to be another post bc ffs I'm losing my shit this is much too long.

[puffyducks]

DCRC Week #14 (Part 2)

You already know what the fuck goin on. It's time for Quacklight: Bewitching Vampires in Duckburg AKA Donald Duck Twilight it's just Twilight you guys. I am ready for some HOT Y.A. DUCK ROMANCE!!!!

Why does he walk like that what the fuck is wrong with him

....hey wait a minute-

Everyone say BOOOO DONALD BOOOO he's being a misogynist 👎 it's cause vampires are hot hope this helps

girl 💀 not the claw marks

This is cause Scrooge lives there btw

Let her live her self insert wizard dreams dammit!

CLARA CLUCK SIGHTING LET'S FUCKING GOOOO

AAAAAH AAAAAAAAAAAAH SOMEBODY BUY THEM BROWN CONTACTS dude Dickie is just zonked the fuck out you can't convince me that she's not

NOOO HE GOT HIT ON THE ASS </3

oh nooo... she's stupid...

btw 15 dollars in 1790 is like 500 modern dollars if you adjust for inflation so ya boy is rich as fuck..... ladies 😏

No she's right stop holding out your skincare routine on us Donald. I mean Donward.

I read "SMAACK" and my first instinct was to think that Donald just full power bitch slapped Daisy straight across the face they really should've chosen a better choice of onomatopoeia there

DICKIE SIGHTING hi dickie :3

Listen. I've read this comic before. I thought I would be ready for cunty vampire Magicstone. I was not ready for cunty vampire Magicstone.

Also they don't even get cool new vampire names... though now that I think about it I guess "Magica" and "Gladstone" are already kinda vampire-sounding names aren't they. Like when have you ever met a mf called GLADSTONE?

NO IT WASN'T YOU GUYS FUCKING BROUGHT HER THERE 😭

the NUCLEAR CODES?!?!?!?

oh

They should let Donald bite people more often. Especially Gladstone.

I think he should have shot them with a real gun

So Donald and Scrooge are gonna act like they didn't enjoy the romance movie but here they are, sitting there looking babygirl as fuck, listening to Daisy and Brigitta rattle off about their whole ass YA novel masterpiece. Nice try boys I know what you are 🫵 you like vampire romance suckers

See??? Losers

Ok that's it I don't know what else you want me to say. I haven't even actually read Twilight or watched the movies sorry but I feel like I have a good enough understanding of what happens just from like being someone that was alive from the years 2008-2012. Happy Halloween 🦇 what do you mean it's septemb

[distort-opia]

hey tort, what you didn't like about Batman caped crusader new design? And apparently with what I seen of the news, Joker was left out of this one hahaha

Mm, well... there's some stuff I like the sound of:

"A cold, remorseless avenger of evil, seemingly more machine than man." It's funny to me he's talking about this as if it's that new of a take, Bruce has been weaponizing Alfred and Alfred's been enabling him in the comics for a while. But I am excited about an intentional approach to Bruce as a dark spooky offputting freak. Timm has been talking elsewhere about how he wants to depict a Bruce who's not very heroic and much darker, who's wearing a "person suit" over his true self which is Batman, and I think that could be quite interesting.

Meanwhile, Harley Quinn is now a serious psychiatrist who only fakes being bubbly... and actually a serial killer going after the rich of Gotham? The more you read about the changes, the more she's just a whole ass new character. I do get wanting to reinterpret things or bringing novel elements, but going "let's make everything about her the opposite" doesn't really land you in the realm of interpretation. Harley now sounds like a new person, with the only things in common she has with actual Harley Quinn being the name, profession and the harlequin-themed suit... which isn't even red, black and white.

And well. While the description of Selina isn't too flattering, I can't say she hasn't been depicted this way before. I just don't really like it:

Making her a rich person who's stealing because she wants to keep being rich... [sigh] I prefer the Selina who grew up impoverished, and who's got much more complex motivations to her being Catwoman.

Alas, Harley might be hard to recognize, but then there's Harvey:

The "let's take character traits and turn them opposite" approach strikes again! And once more, it makes the character very different, because Harvey being disfigured by acid after trying so hard to be good and save Gotham, and the disfigurement bringing Two-Face to the surface... it's such a core tenet of him.

I know some people might prefer these extreme changes over how the original characters were written, or even argue that they've gone through so many different origins and versions-- this is just another one of those. And I agree that this is just how things go, when a story that's almost a century old gets readapted, again and again. But well, especially when it comes to Harley and Harvey, I personally feel that if you're changing the core traits so much... at least don't call them by the same name, dammit. I'd feel similarly if they made a show about Batman and then went "oh we put a whole new spin on him by making everything the opposite!" and you find out he doesn't give a shit about his parents' murder and he kills people.

But who knows! The show isn't out yet. Maybe it'll be super well written, or these things have been blown out of proportion in interviews, and so on. We can only really tell once the show is out, so I'm waiting until then to truly form an opinion. And to be honest, I'm not that upset they left out Joker; DC has been overusing him for a while, and Joker fatigue is sadly not that hard to understand. Plus, keeping in mind all these major changes... they'd probably give us a Joker we can barely recognize, too.

[massivedrickhead]

Bechloe Week Day 3: Reality TV

Words: 1761

Read on AO3

-

“What the hell is ‘Celebrity Bake Off’?” Beca asked, her eyes briefly flicking up from the dough she was kneading. 

“The clue is kind of in the name, Beca,” Theo replied, taking a seat up at the kitchen island and accepting the coffee Chloe handed to him with a nod. “It’s the celebrity version of ‘The Great British Baking Show’.”

“‘Great British Bake Off’,” Chloe corrected. “That’s what they call it over there.”

“Yeah, c’mon Theo, aren’t you meant to be British?” Beca asked. She dropped the dough into a glass bowl and covered it with a dish towel, before washing her hands and drying them on the front of her apron.

“I was just testing you,” Theo said. “So in a few minutes when you try and tell me you’ve never watched the show, I can call you a liar.”

“Why would I say I’d never seen the show? We watch it every year,” Beca asked. 

“Because they want you to appear on the next season of Celebrity Bake Off.”

“Me?” Beca asked, eyebrows shooting into her hairline. 

“No, Chloe,” Theo said, rolling his eyes. ���Of course you. You’re the only celebrity in the room.”

Beca pulled a face. “I’m hardly a celebrity.”

Theo sighed and turned his head to where Beca’s platinum record hung on the wall before turning back to look at her. “Are you interested or not?”

“Of course not,” Beca said. “Why would I want to go on reality TV?”

“It’s hardly reality TV,” Theo replied. “It’s not like I’m asking you to go on that show where they make you eat bugs and shit, this is Bake Off we’re talking about. It’s cosy and inoffensive and everyone loves it. It’s not like it’ll be a big time commitment, you’d only be in one episode.”

“Yeah, not a big time commitment other than that I’d have to travel to England.”

“Well it just so happens that the filming coincides with your UK tour dates, so you’ll be there anyway,” Theo said, grinning smugly. 

“I’m not going on TV, Theo,” Beca said. “I’ll make an idiot of myself, I can barely handle doing interviews let alone something like this.”

“You’ll do great,” Theo said, waving a hand at her as if he was swatting away her arguments. “And you won’t make an idiot of yourself because you happen to be a pretty good baker.”

“I bake as a way to unwind,” Beca counters. “I find it relaxing and what goes on in that tent is anything but relaxing.”

“Yeah, to normal contestants,” Theo said. “It means something to them, they’re baking for their lives. There are no stakes for you. You turn up, bake three things and then leave. If it goes bad, who cares?”

“Why are you pushing for this? Why do they even want me in the first place?”

“Because you suck at self-promotion and this is a great opportunity for people to see your face,” Theo said. “They want you because you’re a big deal. They want people to tune in and donate and all that shit. Plus you had that whole Twitter exchange with Paul Hollywood, the seed has already been planted.”

Beca sighed. She knew she’d come to regret that drunken tweet sent to Paul Hollywood where she’d asked if she could hang out in the tent for a day “just to help take care of any leftover cakes”.

“What did you mean by donate?” Chloe asked, trying not to smirk at the look on Beca’s face as she contemplated actually having to do this.

“Oh,” Theo said, his voice brightening. “That’s the best part! It’s all for charity!”

“What charity?” Chloe asked.

“Um, let me check,” Theo said, pulling up his phone as if he didn’t already know off the top of his head. As if he didn’t know this would be the final thing to convince Beca to do this. “Stand up to Cancer,” he said.

Beca looked at him and then turned to look at Chloe. Chloe shrugged and smiled.

“God dammit, Theo.”

-

“On your marks, get set, bake!” 

Beca looked down at her carefully typed-out recipe and told herself to breathe. 

They wanted 8 of her signature brownies. Easy. She could whip up a batch of brownies in her sleep.

So why did she feel so nervous?

She shook herself out of it and focused on mixing the batter, hoping that her hands would have stopped shaking by the time Paul and Prue made their way to her. 

The morning passed in a blur. Her brownies got rave reviews though were not quite handshake-worthy. 

Beca had recognised two out of the other three contestants - a teenage member of a boy band that she met at the Grammys last year, and a talk show host who interviewed her during her first UK tour a few years before that. The final contestant was a Scottish comedian whom Beca wasn’t familiar with, but whom the others in the group seemed to know well.

After a break to film some interviews outside the tent, they were ushered back for the technical challenge and were told they’d have to make 12 identical pieces of shortbread. 

The Scottish comedian cheered and clapped his hands. 

“Do we have to even bake now?” The talk show host asked. “Can’t he just have first place and save us the time?”

Beca looked down at the provided recipe and tried not to smile

“Beca, how are we feeling about shortbread?” Host Noel Fielding asked as he approached with co-host Alison Hammond. 

“I’m feeling okay,” she said. “Shortbread is like my wife’s favourite thing, I make it pretty often for her.”

“Ah, so we’re quietly confident?”

“Sure, let’s go with that. James over there is loudly confident, I can be quietly confident.”

“So, Beca, tell us why Stand up to Cancer is so important to you?”

Beca knew they were going to ask that question. Before filming started they were told that they’d all be asked it at some point during the day and that the producers would hand-pick a couple to air on the show, but it still seemed to catch her off-guard. 

She felt a lump in her throat and found it hard to raise her eyes from her shortbread dough. 

“Well my, um, my wife Chloe was diagnosed with breast cancer about five years ago,” Beca said. “Thankfully she managed to beat it, but if it wasn’t for charities like Stand up to Cancer, then she might not be here and that’s… well, it’s unthinkable really.”

They thanked her for sharing and wished her good luck with the bake, and Beca had to shake herself out of the memories before she got lost in them. 

She turned her attention back to the shortbread and hoped that she’d have enough left over at the end of the day to take back to the hotel room where Chloe was waiting for her. 

“And that means first place are these,” Prue said, gesturing to Beca’s stack of perfect shortbread.

The other contestants clapped and someone patted Beca on the back.

“This is cultural appropriation!” The comedian called out, head in his hands after his shortbread landed him in last place.

“First place,” Beca said to the camera during her last interview of the day. “Not bad.” There’s a hint of surprise in her voice and a small smile on her face. 

When she makes it back to the hotel that evening, Chloe is lying on the bed reading. 

“How did it go?” She asked, smiling and putting her book down. 

“Yeah, pretty good,” Beca replied. “I brought you something back.” She hands Chloe a box filled with her leftover shortbread. 

“Are these yours or did you swipe them from another contestant?” Chloe asked before taking a bite. She let out a small moan as her eyes closed in pleasure. “Forget I asked, I know these are yours.”

Beca laughed and joined her wife on the bed. When they kissed, Beca could taste the sugar on her lips. 

-

The next day passed quicker than the first with only one final bake left to do, and Beca got back at the hotel by dinner with a box of profiteroles, macarons, and a slice of thick rich chocolate cake.

“Well?” Chloe asked, biting into a macaron. “How did you do?”

Beca shrugged. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

“Come on, you’re really not going to tell me?”

Beca mimed zipping her lips. “The show airs in three months, I think you can wait until then.”

-

“And the winner of the Star Baker apron is… Beca!” 

On the couch beside her, Chloe squealed and wrapped Beca in a hug. “I knew it!”

On the TV Beca is being interviewed in her Star Baker apron, but neither Beca nor Chloe could hear over the sound of their other friends cheering in the background. 

Chloe insisted on having a watch-along party for Beca’s episode, Beca had insisted that she’d rather die than have to watch herself on TV, but as usual, Chloe won.

“I was honestly pretty pleased when I won it, but after watching the episode back it looks like I was the only one who even knew how to turn an oven on,” Beca said, rolling her eyes but grinning as Chloe pressed another kiss against her cheek. 

“I knew you’d win,” Chloe said. 

“Told you you wouldn’t embarrass yourself,” Theo said. 

Beca waved him off. “You were bound to be right about something eventually.”

“What made you decide to do it?” A co-worker asked, grabbing one of the cookies Beca had made for the occasion.

“I mean, you heard me on the show,” Beca said, referring to the segment when Beca had talked about Chloe’s diagnosis. She hadn’t expected they’d use her soundbite, or even that they’d throw up some photos Beca had taken at around that time. The room had gone completely silent, and her hand had found Chloe’s quickly. “My wife’s here because of a cancer treatment that might not exist without charities that fund research. Once I heard it was raising money for that, it was a no-brainer.” A few people nodded and murmured their understanding, but the room was still quiet. “Plus I knew Chloe wanted me to, charity or not, and Chloe always gets her way.”

“It’s true,” Chloe agreed. “Though you didn’t tell me that you’d won, even though I was pestering you for weeks.”

“And ruin the surprise?”

“Babe, I found that apron in your suitcase the second we got home. I’ve known for months.”

[hyuuukais]

✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ SUNSHINE AND STRAWBERRIES

pairing ☆ lee felix x fem reader

synopsis ☆ Y/N is a new streamer. after months of planning, and her best friend & now fellow streamer han jisung convincing her, she makes a twitch and youtube account. thanks to jisung giving her a shoutout to his own huge following, she gains some unexpected overnight fame. but what was more unexpected was waking up to see her long-time favourite comfort streamer _sunshine.bbokari_ following her.

warnings ☆ swearing, descriptions of slight panicking

[TAGLIST -> CLOSED]

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

☆ partially written chapter, 8 screenshots ☆

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN ☆ STICKY SITUATION

"You've got this."

Your reflection stares at you unconvinced. How in the world were you supposed to turn Jake down without ruining years of friendship? Sure he was funny, sweet, loving, everything you'd want in a boyfriend, but for you?

The feelings weren't there.

Now, you could send him a text from the bathroom saying you didn't feel well and hope he didn't see you before, or you could face him. The former seemed the more appealing option, if you were honest. However, it was probably best not to prolong this.

Stepping out of the bathroom with a deep breath, you see him. He's in a small booth in the corner, texting someone.

Your phone buzzes.

Hey, how far are you?

Jake looked up at the buzz, locking eyes with you. You give him a small wave, approaching the table and sitting down hesitantly. Sweat ran down your back, and you could feel your chest getting tight. Not now, dammit!

"Hey," Jake avoided your eyes, instead looking down at his hands, fingers fiddling with his rings.

"Jake I-"

"Y/N-"

Finally you look each other in the eye again. The two of you can't help but break into giggles, tension releasing just the slightest.

"I need to say this first before anything else," Jake says more seriously, a turn from the brief laughter. "I don't expect you to like me back like that. Hell, I don't know why I even said that to you!" He groans and uses one hand to cover his face, the other still playing with a ring. "Ugh, I'm such an idiot. Can we pretend it just never happened?"

For a moment you consider it. You could move on, ignoring his declaration of feelings, or you could put him out of his misery. The choices were both unappealing.

"No, actually." It was your turn to look at your hands. "I'm sorry Jake. I don't like you like that, you're right. I love you, as a friend, but-"

The tightness in your chest was back, overwhelming you. You felt guilty, even though you knew you shouldn't. No one can help who they fall for or don't. The stress was becoming too much.

"I-I have a boyfriend!" You blurt, hand immediately slapping your mouth.

Jake's face pales, mouth hanging open.

"What?" He looks almost hurt.

"I-" Think if something, Y/N! "-we haven't been dating long, but I really like him. He wanted to wait to tell people since it's still fresh."

Internally you cringe at yourself and curse your brain for the panic response. A boyfriend? Really? What if he asks who?

"Oh," Jake nods, leaning back. "Look, I'm really sorry, I had no idea. I definitely never would have said anything if I knew. I kind of wish you told me though," He laughs lightly. "What's he like?"

You look at him confused.

"Hey, I'm still one of your best friends!" He puts his hands up. "I need to know if I need to start visiting the gym again. You know, in case he breaks your heart."

Now you laugh, "Don't worry about that, I think Chaeryeong and Ryujin would get to him first. Um, actually I said I'd hang out with them today, so I should probably head out..."

"Oh, okay." Jake stands. "I'm glad we could talk this out."

"Me too."

After leaving, you allow yourself to let out all the anxious energy, furiously whispering to yourself and pulling out your phone.

notes ☆ Y/NNNNNNNN 😀😀😀😀 WHY WOULD U SAY THAT OUT OF ALL THINGS !!! (for the plot of course) also someone teach me self control !!!! everytime i finish a chapter i'm like i COULD wait to post this..... or i could just post it now, which always seems more appealing ☝ anyway, back to the fic- count this week of fake dating possibly... lead to something more? stay tuuuuuuuneeeeeddd

taglist ☆ @marcillfll @toplinelix @neri-ner @tfshouldidohere @imasimplol @samvagejkflxhrt @yennifersgeralt @aestheticsluut @cherryuqii @tenebrisirae @roseidol @veryjeongintxtkid @amara-mars @nobuttpics @bmnyy @sheeshhhhfelixsworld @ellelabelle @gini143 @mrsseals16 @veedoesntknaur @channiesstars @daydreamer5006 @luvvvash @amesification @skzswife @blamemef0rit @soulphoenix1618 @lovingmny @stvrfir3 @boo-ven9eance @adestayskz @rag-iii @enchantedgrunge @mytherapisttoldmenotto @strawberry-dreamland @oh-my-fancan @lucktales @cookielino @fantasyaddict123 @sleeplessmin

pink means it won't let me tag u