#so i tried writing these lyrics to reflect that

[the-blathermouth]

UNCONSCIOUS FAN LYRICS

Lyrics under cut in case I'm hard to understand (which I probably am. 😅)

As the world stands

It's chaotic, left out of hand

I will show you all

This is only natural

In the dark sea

No one thinks about what could be

Simply let it go

Swept into the ebb and flow (ebb and flow)

Hear the machines hum

As the static renders you numb

Still your mind and tongue

Become one with everyone

Ah Chaotic colors won't stain what's right, every hue will fade to gray

In the collective consciencness we all bow before the acromatic Order

Live in monotone harmony where every piece fits perfectly

Why deny that it's what you wish, I'll reboot the world achieve stability

As per request...

War mixed with art

It is destined to fall apart

There's no need to fight

In a world of black and white

Empty the tank

Let your mind canvas draw a blank

Give into your role

Let the rhythm bleach your soul (bleach your soul)

Renounce anarchy

Let your sense of self fade away

Still your mind and tongue

Become one with everyone...

Ah Chaotic colors won't stain what's right, every hue will fade to gray

In the collective consciencness we all bow before the acromatic Order

Live in monotone harmony where every piece fits perfectly

Why deprive yourself of it's peace, simply go to sleep and dream your fleeting dreams

In tranquil rest...

[carakook]

Shut Up .・。.・゜✭・.

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

“If I fuck you, will you calm the fuck down and listen to me?”

🔞FOR MATURE AUDIENCES🔞

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Synopsis: After taking a job as a co-writer, you quickly find that you and your “boss” just don’t get along. Constantly butting heads, disagreeing on things, and he isn’t even nice about it. He’s a fucking dick. He’s always criticizing you in embarrassing ways, but you’ve tried to be patient, ride it out. Over the short time you’ve worked here, the tension has built quickly, and it is clear both of you cannot stand each other. Unfortunately, today is the day you reach your limit after he humiliates you in front of several of your coworkers… and the “conflict resolution” is definitely something you did not expect.

Genre: Enemies to lovers (or hookup in this case), workplace affair.

Pairings: Boss/Writer!Namjoon x Co-writer!Reader

Word count: 7.5k+

Warnings: 18+, Heavy smut!! Hate sex, protected sex (wrap it up), rough sex, face fucking, light slapping (not in the face), a bit of spit play, face fucking, cussing, crying (sort of), heavy conflict, degradation, arguing, name calling, a bit of teasing, cum eating? (Sort of), dry humping, face humping, being slapped with dick (lightly), Let me know if I missed anything!

⚠Disclaimer⚠:This story does not in any way reflect the character of those who are mentioned, it is totally fiction and just for fun. Please don’t take it seriously.

A/N: Hiiii! This is my first one shot. I’ve actually had it in my drafts for a long time but never posted it, I decided to finish it recently and post it here. I hope you like it! I love writing, have soooo many drafted one shots/full on fanfics with each of the boys. A looot of them are with Jungkook, can’t help myself. He’s my lover… 😭 Anyway, if you guys end up liking this I’ll post more. Thank you so much for reading if you do!

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝

.��� . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

There aren’t many things you regret in life. Because if you allow yourself to regret things, you overthink. Overthinking is never a good thing.

See, it wasn’t awful at first. But the moment you met Kim Namjoon, you could tell he had a problem with you. What? You didn’t know. You still don’t know. But he never bothered hiding it.

You powered through, because this was sort of like a dream job for you. You loved writing music, writing lyrics. It was hard to even find a job like this to begin with. So when you got the callback, you jumped at the chance. You were so excited to be working here, and you were familiar with Kim Namjoon. You thought his songs were beautiful, his writing style seemed similar to yours.

Boy, you were wrong.

Not even a week into working here he was heavily criticizing you. But again… you pushed through. Because you were new, he had a right to be picky. This was his studio, he was technically your boss… technically. So you tried to be patient and listen to his criticism.

Which didn’t last long. Because he was not subtle. Arguably, there is a difference between constructive criticism and being blatantly rude and picky. Namjoon was straight-up rude. And at times it was embarrassing.

Nothing you did seemed to satisfy him. Every single time you brainstormed with him and the team, he disagreed with you. Every time you proposed lyrics, he rejected your ideas. Every time you so as much opened your mouth, he had an issue with what you had to say.

You tried to be patient… you genuinely did. But you don’t like feeling disrespected or embarrassed. And you certainly don’t take shit from anyone. So the last two weeks you’ve both been bickering, and the tension is noticeable not only to you and Namjoon but to the entire damn team.

The worst part about it all? You are so fucking attracted to him. He makes your tummy swoop with butterflies. He smells good. He’s tall, his dimples are fucking adorable, and his body… god, he is to die for. The sexual tension is prominent.

If only he wasn’t such a dick.

Today pushed you to your limits. Never in your life have you been more embarrassed.

It all started with a song he was working on. He played the beat, and immediately you were inspired. You got excited. Your attitude was bright, and you immediately jotted the lyrics down on your paper when they came to mind. You seriously thought today would be the day he’d be proud. He would agree. You felt good about it.

Only for him to burst out laughing when he read the lyrics. That wasn’t even the worst part. It’s bad enough that he laughed at you in front of the entire team. But what he said next is what made you lose your shit.

“Oh- shit. You’re serious?”

He stared at you for a moment, taking in your very irritated expression. And then he fucking laughed again.

“Fuck, Y/N. I thought this was a joke. God, I wish it was a joke because it would be hilarious if it was. It sounds like a fucking kids-bop song. You can’t be serious.”

And that’s when all hell broke loose.

You went off on him. In front of everyone. For three minutes straight you cursed him out, waived your hands around, and made it clear how much you cannot stand him and how rude he has been. How humiliated you feel. You’ve always been praised for your writing, so why the fuck doesn’t he like it? You are fucking pissed.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to cuss your boss out in front of everyone… but at this point, you don’t care. If he gets you fired by the company, oh-fucking-well.

Namjoon stares at you for a moment once you’re done. Your chest is heaving, your cheeks are red, and your brows are furrowed angrily. Clearly, he didn’t expect your outburst. His nostrils are flared and his jaw is tense, it even does the little tick thing that drives you crazy. Fuck him for being so hot. Fuck him for being so damn hot and such a dick.

He raises a brow at you, tongue in cheek, making that angry face that would be incredibly attractive if it weren’t directed at you. He lets out an angry huff of air before speaking.

“Studio. Now.”

He points at his studio as he says this as if you’re too stupid to understand his words. This pisses you off even more.

“You’re not my fucking boss.”

He scoffs at you, briefly smiling at your bold choice of words. You infuriate him just as much as he infuriates you.

“Actually, Y/N, I am. Studio. Now.”

You know that technically, he is your boss. But you refuse to listen to him after how humiliated he made you feel. In front of everyone, how dare he speak to you this way? Regardless of his weird hate for you. Besides, he can’t fire you. He may be able to request it, but you know that he won’t. From what you’ve heard, It took forever to fill this position. He was picky when it came to hiring someone… which makes this more confusing. You can’t figure out what his issue is with you, especially when he is the one who helped pick you for the job. Regardless, you know that he doesn’t have the patience to do it again. He’s full of shit.

You stand your ground. You won’t back down this time. You’re tired of the disrespect.

“No, Namjoon. Whatever you want to say, you can say it here. You’ve already embarrassed me, so go ahead, do it some more. I’m sure you get off on it.”

No longer smiling, his gaze is dark. He’s pissed. Now he’s a bit embarrassed… that’s what he gets.

“I won’t ask again. You can march your ass upstairs, or I can carry you. Your choice.”

You say nothing, surely he wouldn’t do that. He’s bluffing. Regardless of how harsh he has been towards you, you know that he wouldn’t cross that line. You hope that he doesn’t. The last thing that you want is for him to touch you. Not because he makes you uncomfortable, but because you already have enough dirty thoughts about him. You hate him, yet he turns you on in a way you’ve never felt. Lust driven by pure hatred, it’s a dangerous thing.

But of course, you were wrong, and he never ceases to surprise you. Never underestimate Kim Namjoon.

You stay silent, secretly hoping that he will just back down and continue the brainstorming session. But is Kim Namjoon the type of man to back down? No. He never has been.

He strides over to you quickly, taking big steps in your direction, causing you to miss your chance to run.

He swiftly grabs your waist and hoists you over his shoulder, his fingers digging into your thighs. You don’t even have time to react before he starts carrying you upstairs to the studio. He has no trouble doing so either, carrying you as if you weigh nothing.

You come to your senses and swat at his back while you yell profanities at him, demanding that he put you down, threatening to report him, and telling him that he’ll be fired by morning if he doesn’t stop.

But you know that he won’t. This company would never side with you, no matter what Namjoon did. They relied on him. They didn’t rely on you. You were replaceable, even if it would be difficult. Namjoon is not replaceable.

“Resume the session. If you finish before we’re done, you’re free to go. This may take a while. Don’t interrupt us.”

Hurried nods are sent in his direction, no one dares protest him or intervene. Cowards.

He kicks the door open to the studio, entering with ease, making sure not to hit your head on the doorframe as he walks in. You wish he would have hit your head, knocked you out, hell even thrown you over the staircase. Anything to avoid this humiliation he has cursed you with. You almost wish you would’ve just kept your damn mouth shut.

But the damage is done now. No point in backing down.

He throws you roughly on the couch sitting opposite his desk and then closes the door, locking it before facing you.

You glare at him, chest heaving, heart beating out of your chest. You’re just as pissed as he is. Yet, you still find yourself clenching your thighs together, irritated at the fact that he turns you on so much. You shouldn’t be horny right now… yet you are. The way he squeezed your thighs… fuck. Fuck him. God, fuck him to hell. You hate him.

“What the fuck was that?” You nearly growl at him.

He stands in front of you, arms crossed, looking down on you as if you’re nothing more than a pesky roach that he wants to squash.

“I told you, you could walk, or I could carry you. You made your choice, clearly.”

Fuck him.

“Fuck you, Namjoon. This is ridiculous.”

He laughs. He laughs at you.

Fuck him.

“You are ridiculous, Y/N. Why are you even here, if you can’t take criticism?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I can take criticism, constructive criticism, something that you are apparently incapable of giving. You’re so fucking mean to me and I’ve done NOTHING to you.”

“No, I-“

You cut him off, unable to control your mouth.

“And another thing, it’s only me that you speak to this way. I’ve yet to see you speak to anyone else the way that you do me. What is your issue with me, why do you hate me so much?”

“Maybe if you-“

You cut him off again, and his jaw does the tick thing. He’s getting angrier, but you do not give a fuck.

“No, this isn’t on me. I earned my spot here, I was hired for a reason, and everyone else respects me, why don’t you?”

“Because-“

Again.

Fuck him.

“There is no reason, you obviously have some sort of sick vendetta against me. You’re fucking insufferable!”

“Me? No, you-“

Again.

And he’s had enough.

“No, fuck you Namjoon, fuck you and this weird ass game you’re playing, you—“

He borderline growls before he pins you on the couch.

You don’t even have time to register what he’s doing, and if you did, you’d slap the shit out of him.

That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

His lips crash into yours as he hovers over you, one knee perched in between your legs, while his other leg steadies him. He grabs your face with force, so rough that you swear he could break your jaw if he gripped you any harder. His other hand is on the back of the couch, steadying him the same and pinning you in place.

The kiss is no different. His lips assault yours, and he wastes no time in forcing his tongue into your mouth. He kisses you with vigor. A kiss unlike any you’ve ever experienced before. You’ve only ever been kissed like this in your dreams, the same dreams that wake you up in the middle of the night leaving you touch-starved. It’s fucking aggressive and rough.

And of course, you kiss him back. You don’t want to. Yet you do. You don’t want to give in to him. But you do. You can’t help it. As soon as he made his move, you were under his control. He has that way about him, he’s easily able to affect people. You were a different story. You always defied him, disagreed with him, challenged him. Yet, this is the way that he tames you, even if only for a minute. Shit. You’re weaker than you thought.

He nips your bottom lip before pulling back, your jaw still in his grip. His nostrils are flared and his breathing is rigid, as if he’s just as shocked as you are at his actions.

And he is. He has no idea why he just kissed you. He has no idea what came over him. He just wanted you to shut the fuck up, and he acted on impulse. And now he has a raging hard-on, which pisses him off even more. He doesn’t want to want you, in the same way that you don’t want to want him. But you both do.

He whispers, searching your face, studying your reaction.

“Do you ever just shut the fuck up and listen?”

You clear your throat, still trying to come down from the rush of the kiss, adrenaline running through your veins.

“I-“

“Do you know how fucking irritated you make me?”

Suddenly, you have no fight left in you. You feel intimidated. Fuck him.

“Then why-“

“Am I gonna have to kiss you every time you need to shut the fuck up?”

You blink at him, unable to respond. You have no idea what to do, or how to react, and are becoming distracted by the puddle seeping between your thighs.

You haven’t had sex in over a year. You haven’t been able to grow interest in someone enough to give them that piece of yourself again. Your last situation-ship left you simply sick of men. Sex wasn’t appealing enough to go through that again. But, of course, as if the universe is punishing you, Namjoon awakens your sex drive.

You nervously bite your lip and clench your thighs, not even realizing what you’re doing. You’re on the verge of tears, overwhelmed with anger and lust. And this doesn’t go unnoticed by Namjoon.

He looks down at your thighs, and you immediately unclench them. Your cheeks betray you by reddening, thanks to the smirk that very clearly gives away that he knows exactly what you’re feeling right now.

He keeps his eyes on your thighs for a moment before looking up at you. He smirks, raising a brow, giving you a crooked smile that tells you he knows your dirty little secret. Your jaw is still firmly in his grasp.

“Is that it? You’re sexually frustrated? Is that why you’re being such a bitch?”

You try to wriggle from his grasp, embarrassed, angry, horny. You’re starting to wish he would just fire you. Anything to save you the embarrassment of his knowing glare.

“Fuck you.”

He chuckles, bringing his face closer to yours, so close that you can feel his breath touch your lips.

“Yeah? Fuck me? If I fuck you, will you calm the fuck down and listen to me?”

You blink at him again and say nothing. You want to protest, tell him how gross he is, tell him how much you hate him, tell him that he’s the worst. Yet, his idea just makes you hornier. You’ve never had hate sex, and oh fuck, you’re sure that it would improve your mood, even some of the tension between you two.

But it pains you to even admit that. It’s humiliating. He has humiliated you enough.

He moves his hand to the back of your head, angling it upwards so that he has better access to your neck. He places his lips on your jaw, running his teeth up it, leading to the crook of your neck, keeping his lips on you as he speaks his next words.

He grabs your wrist with his other hand, leading it to his crotch, coaxing you to feel him. And he’s hard. So hard that you’re certain a button will break on his jeans. Fuck. He feels giant… You’re so fucked.

“Do you see what you do to me? Never in my life have I had anyone piss me off to the point of getting a fucking boner.”

You can’t help but whimper at his dirty words, but you make sure to bite your lip, preventing yourself from begging him to take you as you so desperately want to. You aren’t one to beg for anything. And you hate him even more for bringing you to that point.

“I’ve thought about fucking you so many times, Y/N. Fucking you to the point that you don’t even remember your own name, and my name is the only thing that you can scream. I just wanna fuck you until you shut the fuck up.”

“Please, just… do it then.”

Word vomit. You thought it but didn’t intend to say it. Yet, you said it. Of course, you did. You’re on the brink of cumming just from his filthy words.

He kisses your neck before speaking. And you can feel him smile as he does so.

Fuck him.

“Oh, Y/N, baby, hearing you beg makes it so tempting. I never thought you’d be the type, considering the amount of shit you talk.”

You croak out, suddenly feeling defensive, “I’m not. I don’t beg for shit.” You weakly push at his chest, even though you both know damn well you don’t want him to stop.

He laughs, pulling back to look at you, keeping his face close.

“Yet, here you are, begging for my cock like a desperate whore.”

You frown at him, feigning offense, when in reality his degradation is making you even more desperate. Why? You don’t know. You’ve never liked being degraded, in fact, nothing turns you off more than being called names… but hearing it come out of Namjoon's mouth? Fuck.

“I’m not a whore.” You whisper.

He tilts his head at you, amused.

“Fucking obviously, you’re acting like you’ve never been touched before. Are you this needy with other men?”

“There are no other men.”

He studies you for a moment, carefully calculating his next move. The way that he looks at you makes you feel insecure, as if he’s a judge on one of those cooking shows, trying to figure out whether he likes the taste of you or not. You have the urge to push him away and take off, his gaze is too goddamn intense.

He is too intense. Never met a man like him.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You mumble, looking away from him.

“Like what?” He asks, furrowing his brows. Amused.

“Like you think I’m the most vile thing on earth.”

He’s taken aback by your response, almost looking offended. Because that is the last thing he was thinking. If only you knew.

“Vile? Baby, I’m so hard for you right now that it hurts, do you know how hot you are when you’re pissed? Fucking annoying, but soooo hot.”

You squirm, your cheeks pinking again. You didn’t expect that. You expected him to laugh in your face and agree. He grunts as he takes in your facial expression. If only you knew what you truthfully do to him. He closes his eyes and scrunches his brows, taking a deep breath before he pulls away from you, leaving you considering getting on your damn knees and begging for him to touch you again.

He chuckles while shaking his head, eyes still closed as he speaks. As if he’s in pain from pulling away from you.

“Yeah, fuck, and you’re cute when you blush. This is fucked. I can’t stand you, yet you’re so fucking cute. What the fuck are you doing to me? Huh?”

Fuck. He’s making this hard. You’re so overwhelmed. So pissed, so horny, you wanna push him away and cuss him out some more, but also you’ve never wanted another man more in your life than you do him right now.

Both of you stare at each other silently for a moment. His jaw keeps doing the tick thing, and you squeeze your thighs tighter, rubbing them together to relieve some pressure. His eyes flick to them, and you don’t even bother hiding it this time. As humiliating as it is, his cock is hard and bulging out of his jeans. So you can’t find yourself caring too much at the moment.

What really makes his resolve waver is the way you’re looking at him, which you don’t even realize. Normally you look at him with such disdain, as if he’s the vile one. But right now? Your eyes are wide and glossy, your lip stuck between your teeth. You’re looking at him almost sweetly. The desperation in your gaze is impossible to hide.

He loses it completely.

“Ah, fuck it.” He declares before grabbing you by your hair again as he sits on the couch. He tugs you roughly into his lap and starts devouring your mouth again.

You let out a little huff of air as he does this, not quite used to the rough handling. But god, it’s fucking divine. You feel as if all of the anger you’ve held for him comes rushing out in the form of kisses and touches. He feels the same.

His hand leaves your hair and he grips your hips, roughly grinding his hard cock onto your pussy. Dry humping like fucking teenagers as you make out aggressively.

Your hands come to rest on his face, framing it as they tremble slightly from the overwhelming emotions. You don’t hold back this time either, licking into his mouth wantonly, letting out little grunts and mewls that make his cock strain and twitch inside of his jeans.

His hands leave your hips to grip your ass, and he fucking groans into your mouth. He slaps it once, testing. When you let out a whine, he slaps it much harder this time, making your body jerk slightly.

He laughs into your mouth and says breathily, “Fuck, you really are a whore aren’t you?”

You bite his lip hard when he says this. You hate it. You love it. You grind down harder onto his clothed cock. He reaches back up to grip your hair and tugs your head back, pulling on it harshly and pulling you away from his mouth.

He grins when he hears you whine at the loss of his lips. “You wanna fucking bite me, huh? Uh-uh, fuck no you don’t.”

He pushes you off of his lap and lets go of your hair, you look up at him with heavy-lidded eyes and confusion. Honestly, you already look fucked out and he’s barely done anything. You’re just touch-starved, so every little kiss and touch is fucking you up. You’re craving relief from both your sexual frustration and the building irritation he’s caused you over the last month.

Before you even realize what he’s about to do, he grabs your hair again, his grip much firmer this time. It actually kind of hurts… yet you don’t stop him. He pushes your face roughly into his clothed cock, and grinds onto your face as he spreads his legs wider on the couch.

Oh fuck.

He grunts as he starts nearly smothering you. When he feels a bit of your drool gets onto his crotch, he yanks your head back, he laughs again, “Bet your big fucking mouth is great at sucking cock. Should we find out?”

You just glare at him. Don’t wanna give him the satisfaction even though every single thing he has done so far has made you borderline cream your pants.

He clicks his tongue, “No? Don’t have anything to say now? Isn’t that funny…”

Fuck him.

He keeps his grip tight on your hair as he uses his other hand to fumble with his zipper and button. Once it’s undone, he whips his cock out. It hits the fabric of his rumpled shirt and is already dripping precum.

Holy. Fuck. His cock is huge. A good nine inches.

He yanks your head forward again, literally smearing your face all over it, humping your face again. His head falls back and he grunts at the feeling. Your skin is just so soft, and the way your makeup is already becoming fucked up is making him go crazy. He’s always loved sloppy sex. And you are fucking gorgeous like this, he thinks.

He grabs his cock with his free hand as he tilts your head back, starts slapping your mouth with it, your cheeks too. The precum starts stringing from your cheek to the tip of his cock, and you can see his pupils dilate even bigger, he almost looks like he’s about to lose control.

He says uncharacteristically softly, “If you want me to stop, pinch my thigh real hard, yeah?”

If you had even a single moment of free thought, you would’ve probably been thankful that he gave you an out. You know despite him being a huge piece of work, he’s not a bad guy. So the fact he’s setting boundaries in your favor, even in the heat of the moment, is comforting. He cares about your safety and comfort. It’s the bare minimum of course, but most men lack even that. It’s why you stopped having casual sex to begin with.

But you don’t have a moment to think because pushes your lips down onto his cock abruptly, your mouth opens on instinct and he shoves himself inside. Doesn’t even ease into it, he just straight up plows his cock inside of your mouth until your nose is pressed against his pelvis.

You cough, and gag, already drooling all over him. Fuck it’s hot. You’ve never been face fucked like this before, but you’re starting to think maybe you’ve been missing out on good sex if this is how good rough sex feels.

You can’t even imagine what his cock would feel like inside of you if it feels this good in your mouth.

When he sees tears start to form, he pulls your hair back, strings of spit and precum connecting from your mouth and onto the tip of his cock. Fuck, it felt so good feeling your throat constrict around his cock. His resolve is wavering heavily. But he’s trying to remain patient. He smirks at you, stroking his spit-covered cock lazily directly onto your lips, causing beads of precum to escape his tip and cover your lips like lipgloss.

“Fuck, look at you. And you haven’t said a damn word. So pretty when you shut up.”

Your cheeks flush and you say petulantly, “Fuck you.” Because even now you don’t wanna give him the satisfaction.

That’s short-lived though because he starts fucking your mouth again. He shoves his cock inside and starts thrusting into your mouth as if it’s a goddamn sex toy. He hits the back of your throat with every thrust, causing you to gag and cough, your hands squeezing his thighs hard but not pinching.

You can take it.

He grunts out, “Fuck… I swear to god I’ll fuck your pretty little mouth every goddamn time you mouth off from now on Y/N, since nothing else has worked so far.”

Each word punctuated by a harsh thrust, he grunts our, “Just shut. the. fuck. up. Fuuuck.”

He keeps fucking up into your mouth, not easing up even for a second. Your eyes roll back in your head, and all you can do is take it. His thrusts only become sloppier and wetter. His head is thrown back and his abdomen starts clenching hard. But he knows you need to breathe. As much as he wishes he could just cum down your throat; he has other plans…

He pulls your head back again, he’s already feeling a bit too close to cumming. He doesn’t wanna cum too fast, he’s certain it would give you more to talk shit about.

He gazes down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, his mouth parted slightly and his breaths coming in fast. You look utterly fucked. Your makeup is ruined completely now, your eyes are red and teary, and your pretty pink lips are swollen. His stomach flutters, because he thinks you have never looked prettier.

He’s always thought you were so pretty. It’s one of the reasons he can’t stand you. He isn’t supposed to want you. You’re his coworker, technically his subordinate.

But none of that matters now, does it?

He doesn’t look much better, his shirt is covered in wet spit and his boxers are ruined too. He should’ve taken his clothes off… but luckily, he thinks it’s so much hotter this way.

His cock twitches against his belly, and he strokes your cheek with his free hand. He murmurs, “You good?”

You nod stupidly at him even as drool dribbles down your chin and your mascara runs onto your cheeks. There’s nothing to say really. You’ve never enjoyed having a dick down your throat so much. And he has effectively shut you up.

He nods and guides your head up, kisses you deeply. His eyes roll back as he tastes his precum on your tongue. So fucking good, he thinks.

He guides your pliant body to lay down on the couch, and then he settles in between your legs, his hands stroking up and down your thighs as he looks you over. God, there is so much he wants to do to you. He wants to use you but also wants to make you come undone as many times as possible.

Maybe then you’ll be more tolerable. Maybe this is what you both need, he rationalizes.

But he’s getting impatient. His cock is standing tall as he looks down at you, visibly pulsating, jerking upward now and then. And fuck, it’s making you impatient too. So much so that you whine at him, “Fuck, stop looking and just do something.”

His jaw ticks. He’s getting irritated. That’s what you think, anyway. But in reality, he’s preening on the fact you’re just as impatient as he is. It gives him an excuse to cut the foreplay and fuck you stupid.

You want him to do something? Oh, he will.

He lets out an almost mocking laugh, “Yeah? Want me to do something about it? You sure?”

You groan and roll your eyes at him, scooting your ass closer to his pelvis on the couch, his cock dripping so much precum, you have no idea how he’s not losing his mind right now. You certainly are. In fact, he’s starting to piss you off again.

Right as you’re about to talk shit, he can immediately tell. He grabs the front of your button-up and he rips it open. Doesn’t unbutton it like a normal person, but fucking rips it open, sending buttons flying on the floor of the studio. You let out a grunt, and blink at him in surprise with your mouth open.

You liked that shirt. Fuck him.

“Fucking seriously? You’re ruining my clothes now?”

Your patience is almost nonexistent at this point. You have drool and precum drying on your chin, you’re so horny it hurts, and he just ripped your shirt open like a wild fucking animal.

But him? It’s like he’s not even paying attention. His eyes are averted downward, tongue flicking over his lips. He looks almost stupid like this. What the fuck?

You look down to see what he’s gawking at, and… Oh. Oh. Kinda slipped your mind that you aren’t wearing a bra today. You were running late this morning and forgot to throw one on. Oops.

Namjoon doesn’t even look at your face at this point. His eyes are glued to your tits. He feels kind of ridiculous, getting this worked up over tits. He’s seen tits many times, it’s nothing new. But something about yours has him salivating, has his cock jerking upward.

He reaches down and starts lightly slapping the sides of your tits, watching them jiggle with a gaze full of hunger, he rasps out, “Not the only thing I’m gonna be ruining.”

One hand remains playing with your tits like they’re fucking stress balls, and Namjoon would argue that they absolutely are. The other hand reaches down and lifts your skirt, causing it to pool around your waist. He looks down a bit further, begrudgingly tearing his eyes away from your perfect tits, his other hand pushing your ruined panties to the side. He groans, nearly growls when he notices how wet you are. Fuck. He’s so close to losing control.

He dips a single finger into your sopping heat, just barely. Moves the creamy juices around before pushing his finger fully inside, squeezing your tit hard in his other hand. Your hips buck up involuntarily and your head falls back against the couch. You fucking hate yourself for the desperate noise that claws out of your throat.

Namjoon is no better, the moment he feels how wet you truly are, he lets a sound that sounds no better than the one you just let out. His breathing picks up, his heart starts beating faster, and his cock is so hard at this point that it’s actually painful. God, you are just so tight. Your pussy is clenching around his finger as if it’s trying to swallow him whole.

“N-Namjoon— please. Fuck. Please.” You beg again, don’t even care how pathetic you sound. A single fucking finger isn’t enough for how badly you want him right now. Want to be filled up and fucked hard. He’s barely moving it too. Just lightly grazing your walls, and it’s so frustrating. You just want to cum. Get it all out.

Namjoons resolve finally breaks when he sees a trickle of creamy white drip out of your pussy and onto the couch, he can’t take it anymore. He genuinely wanted to tease you, make a fucking mess of you. Make you beg and cry for him because of how much you piss him off. But not even he is strong enough to stall, he needs you. Now.

One last slap to the tit, he pulls his hand away and hastily reaches over for his wallet on the side table next to the couch. He pulls a condom out, brings the wrapper up to his mouth, and tears it open. And fuck, that’s so sexy. Your pussy clenches his finger again at the sight, and then he jerks it out of your pussy with a grunt.

You whine at him, almost feeling offended. But Namjoon knows damn well he’s going a little crazy because he just got jealous. Jealous of his own fucking finger. Should be his cock, not his finger. What the fuck are you doing to him?

He doesn’t warn you before he stuffs the same finger, accompanied by another finger, into your mouth. Nearly making you choke just like you did on his cock. Then he tosses the wrapped condom onto your bare chest, “Put it on me. Quick.”

You don’t even hesitate, you grab the condom with shakey hands and fumble it out of the package, all while sucking his fingers clean of your own juices. It only turns you on more, tasting yourself on his skin.

You reach for his cock, grab it with one shaky hand and his hips buck into it a bit. He lets out a little hiss through his teeth because of how sensitive it is, neglected for too long. That’s how it feels, anyway.

You roll the condom onto his cock snuggly and then look up at him expectantly with a desperate but wrecked look. Give him the best ‘fuck me’ eyes you can muster up. He keeps his fingers in your mouth. Doesn’t even move. Again, drawing it out. Attempting to, anyway.

You whine against his fingers, and would probably be begging him if you could talk. But Namjoon can’t take it anymore, lucky for you. He moves his hips forward and uses his free hand to position his cock at your entrance.

The moment the tip is sucked into your tight hole, he snaps. Literally, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. You cry out even with your mouth around his fingers, sounding muffled and wet. Your back arched obscenely because fuck you didn’t expect him to just go in like that.

You’re not complaining though, fuck no.

His head falls back like yours, and he stays like that for a moment, his teeth grit and eyes clenched shut. He removes his fingers from your mouth and grabs your face with one hand, smooshing your cheeks, the other hand coming back up to your tit and squeezing it harshly, as if he just can’t help himself. Squeezing so hard that it kinda hurts. But fuck, it feels so good. You’re starting to realize maybe you have a thing for shit like this.

Doesn’t help when you feel his cock twitching inside of you. It’s just enough stimulation to make your pussy start throbbing around him.

It’s pathetic how close you already are. But god, it feels like he edged you for hours. Even though he barely did anything. You guess you just kinda forgot what actual dick felt like compared to your fingers or a toy.

He starts moving his hips slowly, trying to be patient while your pussy adjusts to his size. But your patience left the moment he entered you.

“Fuck. Go faster, please.”

Your voice sounds high-pitched and a bit loud which you don’t even realize. You can’t control it. He clicks his tongue at this, gives your face a little shake as he says, “Thought I told you to shut the fuck up? Unless you want all of your coworkers to know you’re letting your boss fuck the shit out of you like a whore? That what you want?”

He pulls back out and then slams in again. You let out another cry, body jolting at the force. And he starts just pounding into you.

You asked for this.

How the fuck are you supposed to be quiet when he goes from 0 to 100 like that? Holy fuck.

“Oh, so you do? You want them all to know I’m making you my slut after humiliating you for your shitty writing? C’mon, speak up. Can’t hear you. Use your fucking words.”

All while snapping his hips harshly into yours, out one moment, deep inside the next. You can barely take it. You swear you can feel him in your fucking stomach. Hardly even register his degrading words because you can’t think, can’t speak, can’t even control the loud noises coming out of your mouth, although you desperately try.

Tears prickle your eyes, not because it hurts but because you’re overwhelmed. He’s so hard to figure out. Acting like he’s gonna tease you one moment, and then fucking you like he’s trying to split you in half the next.

He lets out a grunt at your lack of response and ends up squishing your cheeks harder, forcing your mouth open. He leans down slightly and fucking spits in your mouth and then stuffs his fingers back in your mouth, “Actually, just shut the fuck up. Keep your mouth busy and shut the fuck— ah, fuck— the fuck up.”

Fucking disgusting. Fucking hot.

The way his words falter and he loses train of thought for a second makes your pussy clench deliciously around him. Because it’s confirmation that he is just as affected as you are. Just as fucked up right now.

You both look a mess. Your shirt is torn open, your skirt all crooked and pushed up to your waist, and your panties aren’t even fully off. His shirt is still damp with spit, his pants only halfway pulled down and now there’s a creamy white stain on the front of them from your juices dripping down his dick.

It’s heaven, honestly. Or maybe hell. You aren’t sure. But it feels so fucking good.

His hips piston into your cunt hard and fast, and you do your best to focus on sucking his fingers, but the pressure is building fast. You can feel your pussy start to flutter, your clit throbbing, begging to be paid attention to. He can feel it too, it’s making him go crazy because of how responsive you are.

He slams home one more time before staying there, swiveling his hips in a circle so that his pelvis brushes against your clit each time, giving it the minimal amount of attention that has you nearly seeing stars, almost there, but not quite.

“Need more?” He pants out.

You nod your head quickly, his fingers covered in your saliva at this point. Dripping in the essence of you just like his cock. He nods back, removes his other hand from your hip, and settles it at the bottom of your belly, pushing down and placing his thumb over your clit. He starts flicking it fast and starts fucking into you again, picking up the pace so that the room fills with wet squelching noises and skin slapping.

The way he’s pushing onto your tummy while rubbing your clit, Jesus fuck… it’s intense. Makes it feel like he is inside of your stomach. So fucking deep.

Yup. That does it. The stagnant pressure starts building rapidly, he can feel it too. Your pussy starts tightening and fluttering beautifully around his girth. You’re making the prettiest noises, still quiet thanks to his fingers stuffed in your mouth but he can hear you the perfect amount.

God, it’s so perfect, he thinks.

You, you’re not thinking at all. He really is fucking you stupid. Your eyes are continuously rolling back and your hips buck into his thrusts desperately, quickly approaching your climax.

He flicks your clit back and forth, fast but precisely, “C’mon baby, give it to me. Fucking cum all over me. Make a mess. Ungh— god you’re such a fucking slut.”

And that sends you. Out of everything, something about Namjoon calling you a slut just fucking does it for you. You let out a muffled moan, that would be a scream most likely if his fingers weren’t sheathed into your mouth. Your legs tremble and your body shudders through the force of your orgasm.

Your pussy throbs violently, walls rippling around his cock as you finally see those stars. It feels fucking amazing, makes tears fall down your cheek. You can barely breathe because of the force of how fucking good it feels to cum on his cock.

This is his end too. He simply can’t hold back when he feels the vice grip of your pussy desperately trying to keep his cock in place, the rippling of your walls nearly feels like vibrations. He lets out another groan, but it almost comes out like a whine. Very subtly. His face is scrunched up and his mouth open as his hips stutter, his cock spilling and filling up the condom.

It goes on and on. Neither of you thinking about how much you hate each other, only thinking about how good it feels to be together like this. He swears he’s never had sex better than this. You feel the same.

The reality of it all is hate sex is unmatched. Especially when tensions build for so long and you both act as if you can’t stand each other… who knew a fuck could’ve helped with that?

At the last twitch of his cock, when your pussy becomes overstimulated and sore, he collapses on top of you. Both of you panting harshly, catching your breaths as your hearts beat in unison.

He removes his spit-covered fingers from your mouth, and he places lazy little kisses on your skin. He isn’t even sure where, too fucked out to pay attention, just anywhere he can reach while he rests on top of you. It’s an oddly tender gesture. A little sweet, even.

It’s silent for a few minutes. And you both start to realize what you’ve done. You just fucked your technical boss… he just fucked one of his co-writers.

Definitely shouldn’t have happened.

He can’t find himself regretting it though. He feels so light, that he could almost smile. As much of an excuse as it was at first, it genuinely helped with the tension. He’s not quite as irritated with you. Does he like you now? Fuck no.

But the more post-nut clarity comes to fruition… the more he thinks he can tolerate you. Maybe even work with you, compromise with you.

You on the other hand… you don’t know how to feel. You don’t regret it, because fuck, it did help with the tension. You feel lighter too. Not as sensitive. Not as hateful.

Maybe it was for the best. It’s not like anyone has to know, anyway. It’s like couples counseling sort of… except you’re definitely not a couple, and you both still cannot stand each other.

But you can tolerate each other now that most of the tension is gone for the time being.

“You good?”

He tears you away from your thoughts, and you look up at him with bleary eyes. It makes you feel sort of warm and fuzzy inside knowing despite his dislike for you, he’s still checking to make sure he didn’t cross any lines.

Well, he crossed several lines. But, you aren’t complaining. You’re glad he did. Glad he reduced you to this.

“I’m fucking great.”

That earns you a little chuckle. He sighs a breath of relief, was worried he went a bit too hard or did too much, especially since you didn’t set any boundaries beforehand. But you took what he gave you and you took it like a fucking champ, he thinks.

He reluctantly gets off of you because now that you’re both a bit more clear-headed, the couch feels a little too small, and he doesn’t wanna crush you.

His softening cock is still inside of you, so he braces a hand on the couch and slowly pulls out, both of you hissing at the feeling. He watches in awe as your juices flow freely out of you. God, what a pretty pussy, he thinks.

He dips a finger back into your heat, causing you to let out a little noise of surprise. But he removes it quickly, brings his finger up to his mouth and sucks it clean.

“Mmm. Yummy.” He says, wiggling his brows.

Ugh.

He pats your thigh before getting off of the couch, taking the condom off, and tying it up to chuck it in the trash. He stuffs his soft and sensitive cock back into his underwear and pulls up his pants, feeling utterly satiated now. Bubbly and light, even though he won’t show it. He makes his way to the little fridge in his studio and he grabs two bottles of water, tosses you one which you barely catch.

You gulp down the water gratefully, parched considering he stole most of your fucking spit. Asshole.

He begins walking into the bathroom attached to his studio as he says, “C’mon let’s go get cleaned up. Then we can look at those lyrics again and see if it still sounds like kids bop now that I’ve fucked you stupid.”

At your immediate glare, he lets out a laugh, and shrugs innocently, “What? Pussy is magic, can change a man’s mind about a lot of things. Now hurry up, you’re a fucking mess.”

And with that, he’s stepping into the bathroom.

Yeah. Fuck him. Still insufferable.

But god, you really do hope to fuck him again.

[alittlebitofsainz]

- sunshine -

prompt: “you give me hope when the dark clouds fill the sky, you always find a way through, my little ray of sunshine.”

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: they say first is the worst, second is the best, but what about if you were so close to first place? 100% inspired by the events of this weekend lando stop being so mean to yourself pls and thank u xoxo

warnings: lando being a miserable little so and so. the usual swear words.

a/n: I’m BACK! I moved house and then just became very busy and also rather uninspired. not sure if I’m 100% happy with this but I just wanted to post something!! missed u all heaps and heaps, hope to keep writing more very soon xx lyrics from track #67 sunshine by the brummies. thought this band were from good ol’ birmingham west midlands but turns out they’re from birmingham alabama

masterlist | the spotify wrapped collection

it wasn’t uncommon for lando to be like this.

he’d gotten a lot better over recent years, but every so often the self-criticism would creep in again. you could anticipate it coming; it would start with little comments, a muttered “lando, you fucking idiot” to himself here and there, self deprecating jokes to interviewers about that final corner where he’d gone off and ruined his lap. it could go on like that for a while, until eventually something would set him off properly, like a ticking time bomb that had gradually been building pressure until it was ready to explode.

“fuck sake.”

you watched as lando trailed through the garage, a string of curses muttered through gritted teeth as he passed, seeking solace from the TV cameras. admittedly, you could understand his frustration; even you had thrown your hands up in the air as he’d been squeezed out of first place on the very first corner. it was unlucky, but it was also his own fault for making a mistake: lando knew it, you knew it, and you also knew that he was feeling it. you watched him go past and disappear off down the corridor, no doubt heading for the solace of his drivers room. you paused, weighing up your options for just a moment.

“Lan?”

the echo of your knock on his drivers room door reverberated down the corridor. the mclaren motorhome was a ghost town, reminding you of the fact that everyone else was out celebrating - everyone but lando, rather ironically.

a noise came from inside the room, no doubt lando grumbling something inaudible under his breath as he made his way across the room, before the door eventually opened. you couldn’t help the sigh that escaped you - it had been such a long while since you’d seen him this way. it was subtle; the average person may not have even picked up on it, but you could always tell. It was his eyes, they somehow lacked the hues of green and blue they usually possessed, instead reflecting back a washed out grey colour, like the light had gone out from behind them.

“you got p2, Lan.” you reminded him softly as he stepped away, a silent invitation for you to come in. you knew those words wouldn’t help.

“it should’ve been p1.” came the mumbled reply from where lando had sunk back down on the sofa. you kicked the door closed behind you and made your way over to sit down beside him, your shoulder pressed into his.

“but you were so close, lan, a few more laps and you would’ve got him, I know it.”

“I know I was close!” your response had touched upon something lando didn’t want to hear, a fact you were made very aware of from the bitterness in his tone as he snapped back at you, “but I wasn’t close enough. I fucked up on that first corner. the team deserved better.”

you leaned back on the sofa, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you mulled over your next words. you’d been here before, in this vicious cycle where the more you tried to remind lando how incredible he was, the more he’d refute it, the more frustrated and self critical he’d become. one of those times, he’d told you that you wouldn’t understand, and it had hurt. it had hurt because you knew it was true. you didn’t understand. you didn’t understand how lando could be such a great driver and still best himself up over the smallest of mistakes.

“‘m sorry. didn’t mean to shout at you.”

you glanced up from where your gaze had drifted down to your lap as you’d been considering your response, only to find your eyes locked with lando’s grey ones, full of something you quickly identified as remorse. he’d mistaken your silence, assumed that you’d been wounded by the sharpness in his tone, when in reality you had barely registered it - you knew his fleeting anger wasn’t directed at you. it was directed at himself.

“no, no, don’t worry ‘bout it. I was just thinking, that’s all.” you sat back up quickly, shaking your head as you forced your expression to soften, “I know there’s nothing I can say to make this better, to make you see how well you did today, but-“

“just you being here is enough.”

the reply with which he cut you off was so quiet that you had to tilt your head and give lando a questioning look, one that told him you weren’t quite sure you’d heard him right. he let out a soft sigh, eyes directed to the floor, the faintest hint of red colouring his cheeks as he cleared his throat.

“I said, you being here is enough. with me.” he clarified, voice just a little louder than before.

“Lan, there’s nowhere else I would be right now, you know that.” you dropped your voice, matching his soft tone. an instinctive hand came to rest upon his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I just mean-“ lando shifted slightly to face you, expression swimming with a quiet admiration, “I don’t always make it… easy.”

you let out a chuckle at that, despite the situation, and it earned you a raised eyebrow and the smallest hint of a smile from lando.

“what I’m trying to say is,” lando continued, “I really appreciate you sticking with me. not just now, but, like, through everything. even when I’m like this.” lando gestured vaguely around the room, but he didn’t even need to for you to know exactly what he meant.

“even when you’re grumpy.” you clarified helpfully. that one earned you a playful scowl.

“I wasn’t gonna put it like that.” he complained, but his tone was lighter than before. “and anyway, I was trying to be serious, don’t ruin it.”

you held your hands up in mock surrender and stifled another laugh, before letting out a soft sigh, observing lando quietly for a moment.

“I’m always on your side, Lan, even if you’re not.” the sincerity in your tone was reflected in your expression as you held his gaze for a moment more, before dropping your head onto his shoulder, his hand finding your own as your fingers intertwined.

it was perfect and peaceful, until it wasn’t. until a knock at the door and the voice of lando’s pr manager brought you both back down to earth, reminding lando that it was time to go out and deal with the interviews. he let out a sigh, reverting back to the solemn state you’d found him in, and you wished you could make it all go away, to tell all the reporters to fuck off. but as you flicked your gaze back to lando, catching his eye as he stood up and smoothed the base of his fireproofs, you realised that he was going to be fine: he flashed you a lopsided smile, and for a moment the afternoon sunlight caught his eyes, the flecks of blue and green dancing across them once again. yeah, you were both going to be fine.

you flashed him a final smile as he slipped out of the drivers room, leaving you alone in there with your thoughts until he returned.

a/n: as always, I might add more to this if I feel so inclined! let me know if you want to be tagged xo

[rosesareredrosa]

theo nott x harrys twin based off of scared of my guitar by olivia rodrigo where like since shes a slytherin people dont rly like her and are rude and she and harry dont talk at all and she lies to theo saying shes ok but he finds her diary and finds out everything and he comforts her

You are NOTT Nothing

Theo Nott x fem reader

w/c: 1371

Being Harry Potter's twin sister meant living in his shadow, but being sorted into Slytherin meant living in isolation. I’d spent years pretending the whispers and the cold shoulders didn’t bother me, but the truth was, it hurt more than I could ever admit. I was the black sheep, the one who didn’t fit in Gryffindor like everyone thought I should. And worse, I wasn’t even accepted by my own housemates.

I could feel the stares on my back as I walked through the common room. The Slytherins watched me with narrowed eyes, some with curiosity, others with disdain. I wasn’t one of them, not really. I wasn’t the sharp-tongued, cunning Slytherin they expected. I was just Y/N Potter, the oddity.

But the worst part was that Theo was part of their group—the popular ones, the ones who ruled Slytherin with confidence and charisma. Theodore Nott, with his quiet intensity, was different from the others, but he was still one of them. He spent his time with Draco, Pansy, Blaise, Mattheo, and Lorenzo, the group that everyone either feared or admired.

I always felt out of place around them. Draco’s sharp wit, Pansy’s biting remarks, Blaise’s aloofness, Mattheo’s mischievous grin, and Lorenzo’s easy charm—they all made me feel like I didn’t belong. And Theo? Theo was the only one who ever seemed to notice me, the only one who looked at me without judgment. But even then, he was distant, part of a world I could never touch.

I’d gotten good at pretending it didn’t bother me. I’d perfected the art of smiling and nodding, of pretending everything was fine when inside, I was crumbling. I didn’t let anyone see the real me—not even Theo.

I’m scared of my own guitar, of all the things it says I am, I scribbled in my diary one night, reflecting on the lyrics that had been running through my mind. The song reminded me of how terrified I was of the expectations placed on me, how scared I was of not living up to them, of not being enough. Of all the things I know I’m not, I added, my heart aching with the weight of the words.

It’s like the strings know the truth, even when I lie to myself, I wrote, feeling the familiar lump in my throat. I hated how vulnerable I felt, how every time I tried to express myself, it felt like I was revealing too much. I’m scared that if I play, everyone will hear what I’m trying so hard to hide.

One day, I was sitting in the library, tucked away in a corner where no one could see me. I was supposed to be studying, but my mind was elsewhere. My diary lay open in front of me, the pages filled with my fears and frustrations, the things I could never say out loud.

Just as I was about to write something, I heard footsteps approaching. I quickly closed the diary, my heart racing as Theo rounded the corner, his expression unreadable.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, his eyes searching mine.

I tried to smile, but it felt forced. “Theo. What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been looking for you,” he replied, his gaze flickering to the closed diary on the table. “I... I found your diary in the common room the other day.”

My heart dropped. “You read it?”

He nodded, his expression pained. “I didn’t mean to invade your privacy, but... I couldn’t just ignore it. Y/N, why didn’t you tell me how you were feeling?”

I looked away, shame flooding through me. “Because you’re part of their world, Theo. You’re with Draco, Pansy, Blaise, and the others. You wouldn’t understand.”

He stepped closer, his voice soft but firm. “I’m with them, yes, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I’ve seen how they treat you, how everyone treats you. And it’s wrong. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

I shook my head, tears welling up in my eyes. “You don’t get it, Theo. I’m not like them. I don’t belong here, not in Slytherin, not anywhere. I’m just... nothing.”

Theo’s expression hardened, and before I could react, he reached out and took my hand in his. His touch was gentle, but there was a strength in it that made my heart skip a beat.

“You are not nothing,” he said fiercely. “You’re Y/N Potter, and you’re more than just Harry’s twin. You’re brave, and strong, and you’ve been dealing with more than anyone should have to. I hate seeing you like this, and I hate that you feel like you have to hide it from me.”

The tears I had been holding back finally spilled over, and I looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden,” Theo insisted. “You never were. You mean something to me, Y/N. I know I’m part of that group, but I’m not like them. I care about you, and I want to help you.”

I took a deep breath, the words bubbling up in my chest, words I’d been too scared to say out loud. But looking into Theo’s eyes, I knew I could trust him. I had to let him in.

“I’m scared, Theo,” I admitted, my voice trembling. “I’m scared of everything. I’m scared of my own thoughts, of what they say about me when I’m alone. I’m scared that I’ll never be good enough for anyone, not for Slytherin, not for Harry, not even for myself.”

I could feel his grip on my hand tighten, his eyes softening as I continued.

“I’m scared that if I open up, if I let anyone see who I really am, they’ll hate me. I’m scared that I’m not strong enough to be who everyone thinks I should be. I’m scared that I’m nothing, Theo, that I’ll never be more than just the shadow of someone else.”

Theo stepped closer, his other hand gently cupping my cheek, forcing me to look at him. “Y/N, listen to me. You are not nothing. You’re not a shadow, and you’re not alone in this. You’re everything that matters to me. I know it’s hard to believe, but you’re worth so much more than you think. And you don’t have to pretend with me. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

I stared at him, my vision blurred by tears. “But what if you see all the things I’m scared of? What if you see me for what I really am, and you realize I’m not worth it?”

Theo’s thumb brushed away a tear that had escaped down my cheek. “I already see you, Y/N. And I promise you, you are worth it. Every fear, every doubt, every single thing you’re scared to show, I’m here for all of it. You don’t have to hide from me. I’m not scared of who you are. I’m not going to run.”

Something inside me broke, the walls I had built up around myself crumbling as I let out a sob, stepping forward into his arms. He held me tightly, his embrace warm and secure, and I let myself fall into it, let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t alone after all.

“It’s okay,” Theo murmured, his voice soothing as he stroked my hair. “I’m here, Y/N. You’re not alone anymore. You don’t have to be scared. I’ve got you.”

I clung to him, my tears soaking into his robes as I let out everything I had been holding back. Theo held me through it all, never letting go, never pulling away. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I wasn’t alone, like I wasn’t just the shadow of someone else.

I had Theo, and in that moment, that was enough.

[naturesapphic]

Yk « l’amour de ma vie » by billie can u write a fanfic abt French yn flirting with Billie in French and that’s why the tittle of her song is l’amour de ma vie (bc yn always call billie that and her heart melts every time cuz she finds that really cute) and one of un interviewing billie in French (like the Lena situation interview but in French)

French Interview

Billie eilish x French!fem!reader

Warnings: fluff, cussing

Word count: 2,181 😭

A/n: I’m sorry if the translation got some of the words wrong I apologize I tried-

“Hey guys! Today vogue invited me over to interview a very special someone. Billie eilish aka my girlfriend!” I exclaimed as I did jazz hands over to my girlfriend Billie, who sat beside me. She looked over at me and giggled at my goofy jazz hands and face I was doing. “Hiiii everybody. I’m so glad to be back here.” Billie said softly as she waves to everyone and to the cameras.

You smiled big and explained to everyone that you will now be talking in French for most of the interview. “Alors Billie Eilish se blesse parfois ? Que diable?” (So Billie eilish does get hurt sometimes. What the hell?). Billie giggles and gives you a smile as she answers. “Right? It’s interesting to be a person who isn’t an outwardly sensitive complainer. A lot of moments on this album are about situations where I was like, ““I’d rather be tortured inside but have somebody think that I’m cool, than have somebody think that I’m hysterical and actually express my feelings.”” So many songs on this album reflect that realization of, like, “Maybe I’m obsessed with the idea of nonchalance.”” She says and you nod.

“oh ouais, c'est toi, c'est sûr bébé.” (Oh yeah, that’s you for sure baby.). You reply and Billie keeps going on with her answer. “I would rather suffer in silence than tell you something’s bothering me and have you think I’m sensitive.” She says and you roll your eyes playfully. “tu me rappelles un de mes ex-partenaire.” You said while eyeing her down. As soon as the translator translate what you said to her, she gives you a gentle shove that makes you laugh. “Quand nous nous sommes rencontrés pour la première fois, tu avais l'air d'avoir tout compris et tu étais plutôt fermé.” (when we first met, you seemed like you had it all together and kinda closed off).

Billie laughs and grabs one of your hands in hers as she answers. “I come off as a person that doesn’t care. I care about people and I have love and passion, but in relationships, I found myself never ever expressing any of my needs. It was interesting to notice I was doing that, and that’s what these lyrics are about. It’s almost like I resent myself for not advocating for myself, because maybe if I had, things would’ve changed. But I’ve always had an issue with weakness.” She said opening up more and more. “Well I’m glad you are getting better with expressing your needs towards me because you mean a lot to me bils.” You say as you look deep into her eyes. She smiles and waits for your next question.

“En pensant à “Skinny” qui entre dans “Lunch”, cela résume parfaitement l’ambiance du titre, car c’est un peu comme les refroidir puis les réchauffer.” (Thinking about “Skinny” going into “Lunch,” that sums up the vibe of the title perfectly, because it’s kind of like, cool them down and then heat them up.) “That was very purposeful. It’s hard and soft and hard and soft. There’s motifs and melodies that repeat and lyrics that call back to other songs. The songs morph into each other. It was purposeful to have “Skinny” do what it does, and then at the end you hear the drums for “Lunch.” And then “Lunch” comes in and slaps you in the face.” Billie replies and you nod along to her words.

“Vous vous demandez ce que les gens vont dire de la chanson “Lunch”?” (Are you wondering what people are going to say about the song “Lunch”?). “I’m pretty aware of what people will say. It’s so weird to grow up and change in front of the world. The craziest part is discovering things about myself and then suddenly, everyone else knows, and I don’t even have a second to think about how it makes me feel.” She confessed and you felt your heart break for her. “I can’t imagine what that must have felt like.” You say as you start rubbing her knuckles. “It was very frustrating but I wouldn’t have done it without you y/n so thank you love.” Billie said giving you a small but loving smile.

“Je me demandais, quand une de vos relations amoureuses se termine, pensez-vous la laisser avec mille questions ? Ou vous laissent-ils avec mille questions ? Ou est-ce partagé 50-50 ? Est-il plus dangereux de tomber amoureux de vous ? Ou est-il plus dangereux pour vous de tomber amoureux?” (I was wondering, when one of your romantic relationships ends, do you think you leave them with a thousand questions? Or do they leave you with a thousand questions? Or is it split 50-50? Is it more dangerous to fall in love with you? Or is it more dangerous for you to fall in love?) “I don’t even know. I think 50-50 is probably accurate. I literally hate who I am so much when I’m in love.” Billie replied and you let out a loud laugh that made her giggle at you.

“That’s one of the most masculine things you’ve said. Jeez Billie.” You giggle out and she smiles. “But don’t worry baby I love how I am when I’m in love with you.” She confessed and you felt your whole face heat up. “je t'aime, l'amour de ma vie.” (I love you, the love of my life). Billies face heat up and she leans over to give you a little kiss on your cheek. “I love you more angel.” She said. She didn’t even need the translator to tell her what you said because you always say I love you and that pet name to her in French. That’s why she named the song after that petname because she loves when you call her that a lot and it means a lot to her. Billie goes back on track and continues to answer your last question.

“I have a power issue and a control issue, and I also don’t like being vulnerable in a romantic way. It makes me feel uncomfortable, and I don’t know how many times I’ve really been in love. I think there’s different versions of love, and I think that you can be in love and it might not be deep. I’m not going to get too in detail, because I’m going to be rude, but I’ve never been dumped, and also, I’ve never been broken up with. I’ve only done the breaking up.” She confessed and you nod. “Yeah I’ve only done that a few times but I’ve mostly gotten broken up with.” You say and Billie nods. I think when people hear that, they’re like, “Oh, all you do is break hearts.” Sure, but that doesn’t mean that people are totally innocent. It means that I was like, “Oh, let me get the fuck out of here.” Or it means things just weren’t right.” Billie continued on.

“Now some of y’all about to be real mad at me, but I do believe that breaking up with someone versus being broken up with, obviously being broken up with hurts like hell, especially when you don’t see it coming and you wanted a future and it’s taken out of your hands. But honestly, the pain of knowing that you have to end something with somebody that you genuinely love is so horrible.” She confessed and you cocked your head to the side. “Really? I’m not sure if I completely agree but I will agree with how it does stay with you longer if you break up with somebody.” You say and Billie adds on. “I think so, too. And you don’t get to even have the, like, “I got dumped, so fuck you guys. I get to go crazy and have a reaction and be mad at you. And I get to make you into an enemy, because you broke up with me.” You can’t do that. You can’t become a victim.” She points out and you give a surprised look on your face.

“That’s actually very true. You don’t get to feel mad and shit. Wow I never thought of it like that.” You explained and Billie smiles. “Pour changer un peu de sujet, ce que vous dites me fait revenir sur vos premières musiques. Votre approche d’écriture n’est pas comme si elle se prêtait à l’hésitation. Il ne s’agit même pas de peindre quelque chose de sombre sur le plan sonore, mais c’est un peu bleu. En fait, tu utilises beaucoup le mot « bleu » dans cet album”. (To change the topic a bit, what you are saying is giving me flashbacks to your early music. Your writing approach is, it’s not like it lends itself to hesitancy. It’s not even painting something dark sonically, but it’s a little bit blue. You actually use the word “blue” a lot in this album).

“I love that you just pointed that out, and it’s making me think about how I don’t love to point fingers. Sometimes you want to, because you’re mad and you want people to feel for you and you want to feel seen. But I’m not going, “You did this to me.” It’s more, like, “We’re all allowed to feel however we feel based on whatever happened.” Also, it’s not about pointing my finger and blaming people: “And everybody, attack this person, because they hurt me.” It’s like, “I hurt me. And I have hurt me multiple times, and I allow other people to get to that point.” And that’s where I’m trying to draw the boundaries and protect my shadow.” Billie added on and you watched her in awe as she explains how she feels. “Comme il se doit. Et c’est parce que vous n’avez pas pointé du doigt que les gens vont se poser mille questions. Pour revenir au fait d'être toujours amoureux, les seules choses qui sont réelles sont les sentiments.” (As you should. And it’s because you didn’t point fingers that people will have a thousand questions. To go back to ever being in love, the only things that are real are feelings).

“I just had an experience the other day. I had some people over, and there was something happening that involved a lot of sensation and feeling and being in your body. And the person who is guiding me through this thing, I won’t even get into it, because it’s irrelevant to what I’m saying, there was this moment where they were talking about communication and saying, “Just remember to be aware of how you feel.” And I remember saying, “Oh, well, this is making me think of this, and I am feeling this.” I kept describing things. And he said to me, “I appreciate your psychoanalysis of what you’re feeling, but I don’t need you to analyze it. I just need you to feel it.” And that got to me. It made me think. It made me feel.” She explained and you felt your eyes tear up at her words. “I love that. It’s really the scariest thing of all. But for overthinkers, it can be a good practice to just feel and then move by those emotions. So yeah, we don’t need to end with a question, because I think the gift of being with you, whether you’re present or nonchalant or considering whether you’re being nonchalant in this moment, is that your instant impact on a room, even if you don’t say anything, makes people feel a lot. Even my band told me that. When you walked out, they were like, “Damn, she’s good. She makes you feel a lot.” And I was like, “Try sitting next to her when she’s looking into your eyes. It’s crazy.”” You say and Billie looks deep in your eyes as you talk.

“Eh bien, je n’ai plus de questions aujourd’hui mais l’amour de ma vie, j’adore ton album et toutes les chansons qu’il contient. Je suis incroyablement fier de toi et merci de m'avoir permis de t'aimer. Au revoir tout le monde ! Le flux m'a frappé fort et doucement!” (Well I don’t have any more questions today but the love of my life, I absolutely love your album and all of the songs on it. I’m so incredibly proud of you and thank you for letting me love you. Goodbye everyone! Stream hit me hard and soft). You waved bye to everyone and Billie was blowing kisses to the camera and the interview was done. Billie and you went back to y’all’s house and spent the rest of the day there in each others arms.

A/n: holy shit that was a lot. Over two thousand words omg. PLEASE REBLOG, COMMENT, LIKE, SHARE, ANYTHING PLEASE LMAO thank you anon for the request, I hope you love it and I hope the rest of y’all do too. Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all :)

[brainrotbabe24]

Ways Thorin’s company will remember you while they are on an adventure!

Balin: In the art books, it said Balin has a lectern he would write on while traveling. So in keeping with that idea, I would say his quill pens would remind him of you. I imagine he has a busy life and tends to forget about the little things. So when he is on a journey, he will curse himself for forgetting quill pens. But lo and behold in his bag would be a new set. He would chuckle to himself knowing that you always looked out for him. 

Dwalin: Dwalin seems like the type of guy who would get a tattoo for you. Not your face or a heart saying “I love y/n” but something small and sentimental. For example, if you were into gardening or the outdoors, he would have a tree sapling on his leg. If you were into baking, he would have a bread knife on his forearm. If you were a singer, he would get lyrics across his chest. Each night he would take some time to look at the tattoo, and images of you would flutter in his mind. 

Óin: You know his skills of healing are important on any adventure. So in the months leading up to it, you see him gathering herbs and other medicinal supplies to bring. To help him out, you would’ve bought a pouch to hold his supplies in. Oin loves it and regularly puts his most precious herbs in there. He doesn’t let anyone touch it and makes sure it’s secure to his body at all times. Oin loves feeling the material and will unconsciously run his fingers over it when thinking about you. 

Glóin: Isn’t it obvious he will have a picture of you in his pocket lol. He can’t stand not seeing your lovely face while on the road and basically demanded a portrait of you made. He made sure on the day of the portrait he adorned you with the most beautiful jewelry, beads, and braids. You loved it! So when he looks at the picture, he sees all his work/love was being worn proudly by you. He likes having your face be the last thing he sees at night and the first thing he sees in the morning. 

Bifur: Such a sweetie! He would’ve kept a wooden toy you tried to carve… and failed at. Back before he left, you would’ve tried making a toy. You had seen him do it a hundred times, so you didn’t think it would be that hard. A little surprise for him would be perfect. Welp, you messed it up and got so frustrated you threw it out. He found it of course and kept it. He carries it everywhere and takes it out when there is free time. He would never tell you he kept it, knowing you would be embarrassed but loves you for trying his craft. He is beyond proud! 

Bofur: Bofur knows you long for adventure and would feel bad when he couldn’t take you on trips. So to help you “see” the world, he makes sure to learn a song from the area. You guys have a tradition: he leaves, learns a song, comes home, and sings to you. I imagine when he is out in the wild he will keep the song stuck in his head thinking of your reaction to it. 

Bombur: Oh, you spoil him!!! Once you heard he was going on a journey, you would instantly go out and buy him new cooking utensils. He would cherish it, though. He would delicately bring them out every evening and refuse to let anyone else touch them. He would clean the utensils until he could see his reflection thinking of you all the while!

Ori: Before he leaves on a journey, He will set up a knitting date with you. You will both make each other socks, a hat, a scarf—whatever comes to mind! Before you give each other the gift, you make sure that your initials are sewn into them. In times when he is uncertain of his journey, he will look to your initials and think of you. 

Dori: I would imagine since he prides himself on appearance he would have jewelry, and one ring (lol) would stick out to him. You can find him fidgeting with it and even staring at it for long times. It was your present to him, and even if he is covered in mud and his appearance is less than perfect, he will make sure to clean his hand/that finger with the ring first.

Nori: He stole something of yours, but you have to guess. It’s less about the object and more of the joke/tradition that reminds him of you. He will look at whatever trinket he stole and think about you looking all over the house for it. He will chuckle at the thought and will smile, knowing that once he returns and shows you the missing object, you both will giggle. 

Thorin: In the book, Thorin had a harp. I feel the rough and tumble adventure would occasionally get the strings to snap. So when he sees a neat bundle of wire in his bag, he would be thinking of you. His face would get red and a small smile would appear on his face. He loves knowing you think of him! I guarantee when he gets home he will play the harp for you, as a thank you.

Fíli: While I want to say a knife... because it fits him perfectly. I would have to say pipe weed. Fili would be the type to enjoy a smoke while by the fire, and since his trips are always long and filled with danger, he savors the nights he can relax. He would sit back, relax, watch the fire, and “inhale you." The pipe weed would remind him of you, the smell bringing back memories of your hands, hair—anything really. And if he was able to share this precious weed with everyone, he would thank you secretly for helping everyone relax. 

Kíli: Kili seems like the type of dwarf that brushes his hair. It’s less in braids, so it probably gets knotted up more. So having a small comb/brush gifted by you to help detangle after a long day is exactly what he needs. Kili uses it so much and will ask Fili to help brush his hair. He will then close his eyes and imagine you are brushing his hair…His dream would be interrupted, of course, by Fili saying, “Brother, please tell me why you have mud in your hair…”lol

Bilbo: He will keep a book! Maybe one of your favorites that you wrote your notes in. He loves looking over your scribbles, ideas, and thoughts you wrote in the margins! His favorite lines are ones he isn’t supposed to know. For example, he once found a note saying, "Bilbo’s birthday surprise will be on Tuesday. Get Cake!” He would blush and think about how much he loves you. 

Gandalf: He was a tough one to think about....Out of everyone, I feel like he will be gone the most. So, he would love it if you helped him sew up any holes in his outfit. When he is out in the world the stitching will remind him of you and how much you care for him.

[taesanluv3r]

lost in love songs.

han taesan x reader

a short, three part, friends to lovers story.

ੈ✩‧₊ hidden love unfolds when taesan's ipod nano accidentally ends up in the hands of his best-friend, yn. a certain playlist catches her eyes, revealing the true feelings kept within the depths of the boy's heart.

part three: can't help falling in love.

confessions, first kisses, so much cuteness my heart swells. lowercase intended, excuse any spelling mistakes / grammatical errors! enjoy <3

wc: 4,019

masterlist 𖦹 part one 𖦹 part two

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

"i need to talk to you"

taesan couldn't sleep at all, her words just circling around and around in his head all night long. the five letter text message written in big bold letters playing in his mind every single time he so much as even tried to shut his eyes. he lies awake, sighing when his eight o' clock alarm rings through his ears. he was going to confess to her today. he had to. it was the only way he or his friend could get any sort of closure, whether he liked it or not. their meeting time was still in another two hours. the boy grabs his phone, instinctively going to check the messages, her messages.

last active 6.45am

seems she couldn't sleep either, though neither of the friends contacted each other while they were awake. no exchange of words, unlike the way they usually did. taesan's stomach hurts, he's restless and he just can't seem to lie still. he gets off of his bed, walking around his room once, then twice, and then a third time before resorting to sitting on the chair near his desk. with a light tap of his finger, the laptop in front of him turns on, a slight buzzing sound from the gears within the device that began to work. his reflection on the screen disappears when the tabs he had opened the night prior appeared before him. the boy's eyes glimmer slightly at the sight of his music folder, countless of demos and drafts scattered in a somewhat organized manner in the little blue folder. his finger slides against the silver track-pad, the air conditioning right by his desk making the surface cool to touch. taesan bites his lips as he clicks, a collection of his unfinished originals popping up above all the other opened tabs.

the boy sighs again, a hand roughly stroking through his bed-ridden hair as his eyes make contact with two songs in particular. those were the same songs he had downloaded onto his ipod the other day, the one that was now in the hands of his best-friend who he had in his mind throughout the whole writing process. taesan curses at himself, regretting ever even making such stupid songs. but it's all her fault, he thought, if she weren't so...her, maybe he wouldn't keep writing these love songs. he scrolls down in frustration, eyes following his cursor as they go through about a dozen more songs about her. a dozen more songs she didn't need to know about, the songs he once swore she'd never see.

the boy's finger moves up again, back to the very top two tracks in the folder. he let's out a deep breath before pressing down, allowing his own music to flow through the air. an unfinished song,

can't help falling in love.

taesan's eyes shut closed, his back leaning softly against his chair and he immerses himself in the tune. soft piano fills his ears, his eyebrows knitting together when he hears his own voice. just like the other song, this one shared that same honey-like feeling. it was very unlike the usually upbeat and, as his friend would call it, emo sound that he typically produced. for some reason though, it was somewhat more...authentic. like despite his edgy exterior the boy was just born to write these cheesy songs that he swore weren't 'his vibe'. he hums along quietly to the lyrics, not wanting to wake the rest of his family that were very much still asleep at such an hour like this on a saturday morning.

her eyes shine like diamonds, her lips stained pink like rose quartz. she speaks so loud with confidence, yeah i envy her voice like sweets of sorts. and i just can't shake this feeling, and i just don't know what's wrong. when she looks at me i'm melting, elvis was right cause i can't help falling in love.

the sound of the lyrics he wrote himself makes him sick for a second, his eyes opening and his body darting forward to hit pause. the tune abruptly stops, his heavy breathing all too loud when silence engulfs the atmosphere. taesan is tense, the sudden reality of the situation he was in had become too real, too much for his liking. the boy blinks in long intervals, his teeth clawing at his bottom lip and his hands that were pressed atop the table forming fists. the boy loses himself for a moment, his mind overflowing with every possible scenario, every kind of reaction this girl he had been so hung up on could've had to the feelings he poured out into his songs, this girl who was his only friend, this girl he might've of lost forever.

he stops himself from screaming at the top of his lungs, eyes glancing at the number on the top right corner of the screen. only one more hour to go. he decides its finally time to get ready. taesan takes a shower, washing his hair with the olive scented shampoo that his mom had bought for him on a sale the other day. he brushed his teeth, making eye contact with the mirror as he dried his hair. the boy spends the next thirty minutes trying on all of his clothes, almost throwing a tantrum and leaving the room in a mess when nothing seemed to feel right. by 9.35 he had decided on a black band tee, the faded smiley face logo of his favourite band contrasting perfectly with the dark wash of his denim jeans. he stares at himself in his floor-length mirror, his hands fidgeting in the air as he begins to rehearse every way the confession that awaits him with his best-friend could possibly go. the shy boy does this often, he finds it hard to speak with people and it makes him feel better to practice beforehand. however, he's never had to do this with her, she always made it easy for him to talk. so why now? why does he feel so nervous and...scared?

"and i just...i think you're cool and- no, i think you're pretty chill and- pretty chill? ugh! this is so stupid!" he groans, launching himself onto his bed and staring angrily at his ceiling. just then, the familiar notification sound of his phone grabs the boy's attention. taesan stretches an arm out towards it, his eyes lighting up and his body going back into sitting position as he reads the text from the girl who'd been running laps around his mind since last night.

yn meet you at the playground

the boy feels a cluster of butterflies in his lower abdomen, a small smile unconsciously making its way onto his lips at the mere thought of the pretty girl conversing with him.

i'll see you there

he shuts his phone off before she could respond, jumping off of the mattress and stumbling into his black leather shoes, all while simultaneously throwing on his coat and spritzing just enough of his signature perfume. he greets himself one last time in the mirror before he leaves, letting out a breath as he nodded to his reflection, so as to tell himself 'good luck'.

the boy was out the door now, not forgetting to bid his family goodbye leaving them to wonder what he was so jittery about. his feet trots over to the bus stop. the playground was closer to her place, almost an hour away from the boy if he were to get there on foot. his fingers tapped impatiently against the silver railing of the bench, no one else was there because no one else had plans so early on a weekend. five minutes go by and the blue vehicle finally comes to a stop in front of him, the automatic door sliding opened as he stepped into the bus. "where you off to this early on a saturday, kid?" asked the old man who had both hands on the steering wheel. "going to tell her the truth" the man chuckles at the boy's mysterious response, watching from the rear-view mirror as he slumped himself onto one of the seats. taesan watches as the trees go by, his eyes wandering over to the people on walks, the children on their tiny bikes, and the couples sharing a morning cup of coffee. the boy reaches into his pocket in search of his music player, lips pursing into a straight line when he remembers its whereabouts. he didn't even have his earphones with him, he couldn't listen to music on his phone even he wanted to! and no music meant no distractions, nothing to focus on apart from his own thoughts he began to get lost in once again.

at last, the bus arrives at his stop. taesan gets up from his seat, a hand gripping onto the yellow handle near the door as he begins to get off. "hey kid" the old man's voice stops him. "huh?" he asked, an eyebrow cocked up in curiosity. "good luck with that girl, rooting for you" the driver's encouraging words paired with a warm smile gave the otherwise nervous wreck of a boy somewhat of a confidence boost. he shoots the man a smile in return, thanking him before hopping out the door. a new sense of security as he strides towards the gated entrance of the park. he walks with his head down, eyes focusing on the way his thick shoes created indents against the grass. he only looks up when his feet reaches the familiar cobblestone that surrounded the playground.

he holds his breath for a moment and his heart rate went up by tenfold. there she was. in the rather empty area, the only other sound apart from the pumping in his chest was the breeze. a smooth blow of wind that cascaded through her hair, causing the swing in which she sat to sway slowly. his gaze lingered for a moment, staring longingly at his best-friend, myung yn. a harsh gush of wind swept the boy off of his feet, sending his body to move forward all of a sudden. the noise that escaped his mouth causing the girl on the swing to turn around and face him. the two stood like that for a while, not uttering a word and just staring at each other from a distance. yn was the first to look away, her head tilting towards the direction of the other swing beside hers, inviting the boy to come and take a seat. taesan takes painfully slow steps before finally making it to the empty swing, the old steel bar from which it hung on creaking a little at the pressure of his weight. still, neither of them spoke a word. her eyes fixed onto the two little birds a couple feet away from them, and his own ones focused right onto her.

"yn..." he begins, though his voice is a lot deeper than usual. taesan wants to tell her everything, just the way he had planned, he had so much to say and yet for some reason all of those things just wouldn't- no, they just couldn't come out. "here" his eyes widen when she speaks, the boy's gaze falling onto her hand that appeared in front of him. his ipod nano in it, and his worn-out earphones de-tangled and wrapped neatly around the device. "oh" is all he managed to muster out, his own hand reaching over to retrieve it. taesan's touch lingers against her skin, sending a wave of goosebumps to decorate her body. it's silent all over again. minus the chirping of song birds and the rustling of dying leaves as they shed onto the green grass. the boy zones out, trying to find the right sentences to say. he's distracted by the thoughts running through his brain, perplexed when they all began to fade away at the sound of soft humming coming from the girl to his left.

the tune is familiar, though he can't seem to pinpoint where he's heard it before. "that song has been stuck in my head all night, i couldn't sleep" yn began, her voice still raspy from the lack of rest. she still doesn't make eye contact though, continuing to hum as she rocked slightly on the swing. "you write so well"

that's when it all clicked in his head. the song she had been humming, the same song he had made himself. the one about a girl, the one about her. yn's compliment registers in his brain, his head falling down to hide the way a pink shade appeared onto his pale cheeks, silently praying she couldn't hear the way his heart thumped beneath his shirt. "if only i could speak as well as i write" taesan finally talks, his voice making her turn to fully face him now. her eyes are big and a small smile pulled against the corners of her lips. "well, why don't you try? try to tell me about this girl" the way she asked him, like she hadn't a clue about the meaning of his songs, it comforted him a little. how could she be so...normal at a time like this?

he stutters, looking away from her as he opens his mouth to speak again. "well...she's the complete opposite of me and she makes me feel all weird and fuzzy inside and" - "you're always weird, but go on" yn chuckles, interrupting him jokingly. the sound of her laugh making him smile too. "and well, she's my best-friend- my only friend, but sometimes...i guess i just kind of wish we were more than that...i just don't want to ruin our friendship..." he trails off, his eyes getting watery all of a sudden; if you asked him why, he'd blame it on the breeze, but he knows that the real reason was the same one for his smile, the same on for his laugh, and the very same reason for his stupid little love songs.

taesan's body tenses up when he feels a cool touch of a hand tapped against his chin, his head being forced to lift up and to face her. to face yn who seemed to have also begun tearing up. "taesan..." she says, but her voice comes out hushed. her vision begins to blur and the boy panics, unsure of what to do. "yn..." now it was his turn to press his fingers against her jaw, bringing her glossy eyes up to look into his.

"i think i might like you more than a friend"

a gasp escapes her lips. she recognizes the line from his song, she knew since last night how he felt, but for some reason she's still in shock. it was as though the night before had just been some sort of wild dream and it was now coming to life. taesan stares deeply into her eyes, analyzing the way her breathing slowed down and her eyebrows relaxed. "i..." she begins, her warm breath that smelled of coffee blowing against his nose. the boy waits patiently in anticipation, a look of hope and worry washing over his complexion.

"i think i like you too"

a single tear falls out of his eye, a sight she had never seen before. for the boy she had known all of these years never cried. yn blinks, tears of her own threatening to follow suit. his hand moves to caress her cheek, wiping away the wetness that stained it. she giggles softly, finding his touch ticklish. he copies her, breaking into a smile as he sniffles lightly, wiping away his own tear-stained face.

the confession was a lot quicker and a lot more anticlimactic than they had thought or anticipated. the pair simmering down into another moment of silence as they swung softly with the air, the cool breeze blowing against the tiny hairs on their bodies. "so...you listened to the songs, then? i mean...obviously you did" the boy breaks away from the peace, his gaze moving towards the ipod on his lap. she nods, blushing at the memory of his love song. "only the first one" yn says, her voice fading out softly. "good" now she turned to face him, head tilted to the side as she did so. "the other one isn't done yet...and it's way more embarrassing than the first one" his voice is back to normal now, the jittery-ness in his previous tone long gone. "will you show me when it's done then?" she asked, watching as he raided his brain in search for an answer. "or maybe..."

yn gets off of her swing, turning around on her heels to stand right across the boy who remained seated. taesan looks up at her confused, not a clue as to what she was going to tell him next. "maybe you could write me a new one!" she speaks brightly, "one about how the girl of your dreams, me, became the girl of your reality" she's prideful, her head facing the blue sky as she spoke. "how 'bout that?" now she looked right at him, a hopeful look in her eyes contradicting the playful smirk on her lips. the boy can only stare blankly at her, eyebrows furrowing like she was speaking a language he didn't understand. yn rolls her eyes, waving a hand in circles over his face. "hello? earth to taesan?" he shakes out of his short trance, "huh?" the exchange of words gives the pair a feeling of deja vu. she smiles softly, "i just asked you to be my boyfriend and you totally zoned out...loser" taesan tilts his head to the side.

"you...me...boyfriend..huh?!"

she laughs out loud, grabbing onto his hands and lifting him off of the creaky swing. "you, han taesan. me, myung yn. boyfriend and girlfriend" she repeats for the third time, in simpler words for his brain to digest. this time, instead of just staring at her like a confused cat, the boy grins. "wait, wait so we can be like...together now?" she groans at his question, "taesan, if you make me repeat myself again i'll toss that stupid ipod into the fish pond!" he laughs when she compains, his eyes scanning every inch of her features. the way her eyebrows twitched when she spoke, the way her eyelashes fluttered with the wind, the way her nose scrunched up and the way her pretty pink lips sat in a pout towards the bottom of her face. he must've been staring at them for a while, the girl's pout flipping into a little smirk. "what's up?" she asks, his attention returning to her eyes. "nothing...can...can i..." he never finishes the sentence, but the way his lips were parted and the way his breathing got heavier, she knew exactly what was going through his mind.

yn takes a step forward, diminishing any amount of space they had between them before. the familiar feeling of her cold fingers sent a shiver down his spine as both her hands moved up to cup his face. taesan is frozen still, letting the girl make all of the moves for him. she inhales softly before pulling him down towards her, finally coming in contact with one another. the atmosphere is stiff, the strawberry scent of her chapstick melting into his rather dry lips. the kiss lasts no longer than a second, the girl pulling away to stare in his loving eyes. regaining the consciousness that seemed to have left his body a minute ago, the boy's arms moved to wrap around her waist, pulling her into his grasp and their lips caught against each other's once more. this time, the kiss was natural and passionate. yn's arms sat around his neck, her fingers twirling against the ends of his freshly washed hair. their heads tilted in opposite directions, noses bumping as they got lost in each other's faces. slowly becoming messier and desperate as time went by. feeling a little lightheaded, the pair separate, gasping for air. his hands still placed on her hips, hers are now on his shoulders and they stopped to sink into the moment.

the air around them was warm, differing from the cool breeze that had surrounded them earlier. before long, yn's cheeks began to redden, the same shade becoming apparent on the tips of the boy's ears. avoiding eye contact, they looked away in unison, flustered giggles escaping their mouths the same way little children did when they were happy. taesan smiles brightly at her, and the girl reciprocates, the corners of her mouth dipping into little dimples against her skin.

"walk me home?" she asks suddenly, starting up conversation again. he nods, extending a hand out for her to grab before they began walking through the grass and out of the gated park. their walk was unusually quiet, but there was some sort of a comforting feeling that floated over them, hands remained intertwined the whole time, constantly stealing glances and blushing away awkwardly whenever their eyes met.

soon, they arrived at the entrance of her complex. taesan looks down at her for a moment, a hand scratching against the back of his neck that began to feel itchy. yn lets out a sigh, a frown appearing against her face. he looks at her with worried eyes, "what...what's wrong?" he stutters, though she only lets out another breath. "nothing. it's just that if i go home now, jaehyun is gonna bully me relentless about this whole thing!" the boy closes his eyes in relief, "oh, i thought something was seriously wrong-ow!" he exclaims, rubbing his forearm she just hit. "it is something seriously wrong! as my boyfriend you should be just as upset as me!!" taesan freezes at the term, a sense of shyness wrapping around his body the same way his weighted blanket did at night. yn is just as flustered, not expecting herself to say that, her attention moving to stare intently at the asphalt on the ground.

"well, as your boyfriend, what should i do then?"

his hands find home beneath her chin, lifting her pretty face up to look at him again. he looked handsome. i mean, she knew he was good looking this whole time but she swears he had never looked this...lovely before. his soft hair lazily falling against his shining eyes, his tall nose harmoniously balanced with his lips that wore a pretty smirk. "you know if you just keep staring and not giving me an answer i won't know what to do, yn" he rolls his eyes playfully, failing to hold back his laugh as he watched the ever so confident myung yn struggle with her words for what feels like the very first time ever. "i...i mean you...you should- um..." han taesan bends down slightly, pressing a spontaneous kiss against her cheek, their faces far too close and their noses almost touching.

"why don't you come over to mine? i'll show you all the other songs i wrote for you" her eyes widen at his words, "other songs? you mean you wrote MORE songs about me?!" taesan nods, his teeth showing when he smiles this time and the dimples below his eyes forming whisker-like shapes against his cheeks. "who knew emo loser taesan was such a love-sick derp" her sudden insult catches him off guard, a scoff escaping his mouth as he wraps an arm around his girlfriend, pulling her close as they cross the street.

"and who's fault is that?" he asks, the right side of his face pressed against her hair. "whats that supposed to mean? it's not my fault you fell in love with someone as great and amazing as me!" she rolls her eyes, leaning onto the side of his chest as they walked in the opposite direction of her neighbourhood and towards the bus stop. taesan laughs, "well that's just it! when you're so great and amazing like that, i guess i just..." yn looks up at him, interested in what her boyfriend was going to say next.

"i just...can't help falling in love"

the end.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

i want an emo love-sick derpy taesan ☹️ this is the end of my short series <3 i hope u guys liked it!!! and liked the lyrics i wrote for this and the last part too hehehehe 🙂‍↕️ reblogs n feedbacks are always appreciated!!!! tysm for reading, lmk what u thought 🧸 love, kona :3

[annawritesblog]

You are in love(c.s.)

Summary: the story of Carlos and y/n told through you are in love by Taylor Swift.

A/N: this is for all my Carlos girlies out there. I just felt like writing something based on Taylor lyrics so here it is. I hope you like reading it just as much as I liked writing it. please remember that english is not my first language, so if soemthing's not correct, feel free to tell me. enjoy:)

One look, dark room, meant just for you Time moved too fast, you play it back Buttons on a coat, light-hearted joke No proof, not much, but you saw enough

Carlos couldn't keep his eyes off her. Y/n's body swayed to the rythym of the loud music and the Ferrari driver felt a sudden rush of adrenaline and oxytocin through his body. She looked careless and happy, like life was nothing, but pure joy. Carlos took a sip of his drink and answered a question his friend had asked him, althought he didn't pay attention to him at all.  

"God, you're so hooked." His friend had said, but Carlos just shook that comment off. But in reality, he knew he was. So utterly and irreversibly. 

With a smile on her face, y/n looked at her boyfriend, who was already watching her. They exchanged a meaningful look that only they understood. This made the girl think of the time they had first met. How easy and how natural it was to talk to him, all because he always had a joke on hand or a compliment which always made her blush from head to toe. 

Small talk, he drives, coffee at midnight The light reflects, the chain on your neck He says, "Look up", and your shoulders brush No proof, one touch, but you felt enough

For their first Valentine's Day, not even 3 months into dating, Carlos had flown out y/n to Italy. The young girl was incredibly grateful and she couldn't get her head around all of that. And if she only knew that that was just the beggining. The f1 driver had planned a whole thing for the celebration. After picking up some coffee for the both of them, in order for y/n to fight the jet lag, they hopped in the boy's valuable Ferrari and drove off..., well somewhere. Carlos had put on a blindfold on the girl and guided her towards his surprise. The girl, once again, was speechless. Flower, champagne, dinner and candles. This, she would have called, cliché.  But now that she was in a relationship like this, she was just mesmerised by all of that. On top of all those things, the spaniard had another special gift for his girlfriend. A gorgeous diamond necklace. And that was it for the girl. Her eyes filled with tears and she jumped into Carlos' arms. No words could express how grateful y/n was, although she tried but Carlos kept convincing her that he was the lucky one. Wiping away her tears, he spoke up:

"Carino, look." And he pointed towards the sky. If the night wasn't magical enough, the shooting stars made it even more magical. They stayed like that, in each other's embrace until God knows how long. That was their moment.

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you You can feel it on the way home, way home, you You can see it with the lights out, lights out You are in love, true love You are in love

The first time Carlos had realized he was in love with her can't be described. He invited her to his house for a little date night in. It must've been their third date. He let y/n choose the movie and obviously she went for a rom-com. Carlos wasn't particulalry fond of those kind of movies, but he didn't care as long as she enjoyed them. The whole time he couldn't take his eyes off her. The way her shoulders rose when she laughed or how she giggled when Carlos added a funny comment. He knew that he wanted to hear that and feel what he felt then for the rest of his life. Even when they weren't talking, he could just jump around in happiness. He couldn't have explained it, but it didn't matter. 

Sometimes, when he can't sleep, he thinks about their first date. How easily the conversation flew and how y/n kept saying that it was a pleasent night and she wanted to repeat it. These words kept replaying in his mind after dropping her off at her house. 

Morning, his place, burnt toast, Sunday You keep his shirt, he keeps his word And for once, you let go, of your fears and your ghosts One step, not much, but it said enough

Her eyes fluttered open. It seemed way too early to be awake, so she closed her eyes and wanted to get lost in her dreams again. She couldn't though, because a pretty unpleasent smell had hit her nose. A few minutes later, the door of the bedroom opened and Carlos was juggling the tray and the coffee in his hands. 

"What's all this?" She asked sleepily.

"Wanted to make you breakfast. I think it's edible." He laughed and placed the tray on her side of the bed. Because she had her own side of the bed by then. Infact, she had left skincare and clothes at his, which made him so incredibly happy. 

"That is so sweet, Carlos. Thank you." Carlos sat next to her and left a little kiss on her cheek. They ate in silence but occasionally they would look at each other and smile from ear to ear. 

She felt comfortable with him. She never thought that someone would make her feel this way, but here he was. Coming in her life and having such a huge impact on her. She wanted this to last forever and ever. To never let go of his hands. To always call him first when something good or bad happens. And she knew, he wanted the same. For the first time in her life, she trusted someone without a doubt, because she was sure, he wouldn't take it for granted. 

"So, what do you want to do today?" Carlos asked while taking a sip of his coffee.

"Can we just stay in bed all day?" She asked and nuzzled her nose into his neck. 

He smiled and placed his hand on her waist under her (his) shirt. "Sure we can, love."

You kiss on sidewalks, you fight and you talk One night he wakes, strange look on his face Pauses, then says, you're my best friend And you knew what it was He is in love

They barely fought. Mostly it was about Carlos wanting to spoil y/n with expensive gifts and y/n explaining that she does not need those things necessarily. She liked designer things, who doesn't, but she didn't want him spending so much on her. Although he said he's repaying her for all the things she had done for him. She never understood that. Apart from that, they were living in a happy and balanced relationship. 

One night tho, after coming home from a friend's party, things got out of hand between them. A guy was flirting with y/n. At least from Carlos' point of view. Y/n obviously thought it was bullshit, they were just talking. She had tried to explain that to him, but he wasn't listening. He kept on telling his side of the story, how uncomfortable it was, how he wanted to interfere (which he did) and so on. There was a bit of yelling and blaming. They went to bed like that: mad, misunderstood and hurt. 

Neither of them could sleep. While y/n lay still, but sleepless, Carlos was tossing and turning. Until about an hour later, when he turned the bedside lamp on. 

"I'm really sorry. I overreacted." He sighed and he could see the tears in her eyes. 

"Don't you trust me? I would never ever flirt with anyone. I'm with you, Carlos because I want to be with you."

"I do trust you and it was really silly of me to think you would do such things. I truly am so sorry." She could see the regret in his eyes. They weren't shining like they usually are, they were just dark and botomless. "I love you, okay? I'll never do that again." And he never did. 

And so it goes You two are dancing in a snow globe, 'round and 'round And he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown

"Come in." Carlos shouted from his desk. His father walked in his simulator room. 

"Am I bothering?" He asked looking at his son, lost in the screen of his computer. 

"No, I've just finished." Carlos turned on his chair. 

His father looked around the room, inspecting his trophies. He felt an immediate pride rushing through him. His son had made it. All those long hours at the track had finally paid off. He wandered around and finally stopped infront of his desk. They were a lot of nick nacks, wires and a picture frame. It was a picture of y/n and him from a while ago when they took a trip to the South of France. They were on the beach laying on sunbeds. They were tan and smiling like little kids. The two men smiled at the picture. 

"I'm so glad you found her. You've changed so much since you've been with her, for the better of course." Carlos Sr. had said and patted his son's back.

"Yeah, I'm really happy." He agreed.

"I hope we can expect a wedding soon." His dad hinted. Carlos just laughed and opened a drawer. He picked up the little box and turned towards his dad.

"I hope so too." He opened up the box and inside was a beautiful diamond ring. It wasn't too flashy, knowing that y/n didn't like that, but that didn't mean it wasn't very valuable. His dad couldn't contain his excitment and hugged his son tight.

And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars And why I've spent my whole life tryin' to put it into words

She was nervous. She was shaking a little aswell. Well, maybe the coffee didn't help that. Y/n took a final glance at herself in the mirror and sighed. She was looking more beautiful than ever. Happiness really suited her, tho the white didn't look too bad on her either. She looked down on her engagment ring and realized that another band will show up on her finger in just a few minutes. She took a deep breath, and fought back the tears. She is getting married to the love of her life.

In the meantime, Carlos was standing at the altar feeling more nervous than ever. What if she changed her mind? What if she ran away?

His best friend put a hand on his shoulder. Carlos looked at him and calmed down a little bit. It would be fine. And it was fine. They got married. Infront of their most loved friends and relatives. 

After all those years together, the rest of their lives had just started. Long flights, sleepless nights and worries had paid off and there they were. All married up. All ready to live their happily ever after, because in the end they were just two kids who fell in love.

[reidssluttywaist]

Spencer does your makeup.

In which you let Spencer do your makeup for the day, and he knows exactly how you do it.

fem!reader, fluff

notes: this isn't proofread, so sorry in advance for any mistakes you might find!! absolute fluff btw. If any of you guys wanna send a request feel free to do so, i might start writing smut as well but im still a little shy lol, feel free to follow and interact.

Spencer watches you get ready every chance he gets. He has your morning routine engraved in his brain. He knew the rhythm of your mornings like the lyrics to a favorite song, each step a symphony of grace and purpose.

He loves your expressions as you're trying to figure out your outfit, the way you look the temperature for the day on your phone to know if you should bring a coat or not – even though you always do, 'cause you're always cold.

He also loves to watch you do your makeup, he looks at you as if you were the most talented artist and were finishing up a masterpiece, he watches you with attention, careful to not miss a single brush stroke as you blush up your cheeks.

"Hey, um, would you mind if I tried doing your makeup today?" Spencer's voice was tentative, almost shy, as he approached you.

You were surprised by his offer, turning to face him, a soft smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Sure, Spence. Why not? It could be fun."

He sat down in front of you, analyzing your face and the makeup items on your desk, he picked up your moisturizer first, applying it all over your face, massaging it softly as he did, he followed all your skincare to a T, his face of concentration making you hide a smile.

Spencer got your foundation and beauty blender, you couldn't stop the surprised look on your face as he took the time to wet your sponge, surprised he even knew you did this. And again, he followed your base routine as if he was the one doing it every day, not missing a single stroke of the brush on your skin.

"Did you know that lipstick was originally made from crushed bugs and plants?" he said, his voice a mixture of fascination and amusement. "Thankfully, we've come a long way since then."

You laugh softly at the information, loving his ramble. He continued rambling about the history of makeup and all the techniques ancient people used, and you looked at him as his hands worked on your face, he was so close, paying so close attention to your face you almost got shy, but it was Spencer.

Spencer makes you feel so confident, he never fails to compliment you every chance he gets, his eyes lighting up every time he sees you, if you're in your pajamas or a fancy dress, it doesn't matter, he looks at you just the same like you're the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, and he makes you feel that way too.

When it came time to apply the eyeliner, you noticed he was struggling a little, smiling a little when he made a wavy line almost on your cheek.

"Oops, sorry," he muttered, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

You reached out, taking the eyeliner from his hand with a reassuring smile. "It's okay, Spence. I'll finish up."

As you smoothed out the lines and added the finishing touches, Spencer watched with a mixture of awe and admiration, his heart swelling with pride at the sight of your beauty enhanced by his handiwork.

When you turned to face him, the mirror reflecting your radiant smile at him, Spencer couldn't help but feel a swell of affection for the incredible person standing before him.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, his voice filled with love and admiration.

[strangerthingssteddiebrainrot]

A little ficlet I was just inspired to write at 1am lol

Listen

Despite dating a rockstar, Steve was a pretty private person. Whenever he went with Eddie and the boys on tour, he'd wear sunglasses regardless of the actual weather conditions. Sometimes even a hat if he was really done with nosy reporters trying to figure out what his connection to Corroded Coffins lead singer was.

But it's been a long time since '89 when the band first took off and in the glorious year of 1999 they were finally outed by a reporter disguised as a waiter at the restaurant they were eating at and got a picture of them kissing if the corner of the private booth they were hiding in. Sales and the band's popularity took a hit sure, but so many new fans, freaks and outcasts and people just like them filled the void that they actually bounced back with more popularity than ever before. So Eddie and Steve agreed to do an interview on a daytime talk show, set the record straight and talk about themselves and their relationship openly for the first time. They talked about how high school cliques nearly kept them apart, but the spring break of '86, for all its tragedy and death and near death, brought them together and they worked hard to stay together. A true love story if there ever was one. It was freeing actually, finally being able to be open and Out, and if their love helped people, that was just a bonus.

Which is how no one, not even Eddie or the band knew about Steve's voice. He'd never been a singer, too insecure and beaten down to trust that he was actually good at something besides swinging a bat (and an ax, and Molotov cocktails). It was something he was working on, but change doesn't happen overnight and even now, in his early thirties, he still had never revealed his hidden talent to anyone other than Robin. And like, it's not like she ever said anything either! They sang sometimes back when they lived in each other's back pocket and she never said he was good, so he just assumed he was not terrible! Maybe the fact that she had a crush on Tammy Thompson and her 'muppet giving birth' singing should have been a clue. Steve just thought love made you blind.

So when, during the encore performance of Corroded Coffins latest show, Eddie gestures to him to come on stage, Steve tried to refuse at first. He waved him off laughing, but Eddie was persistent and the crowd caught on, chanting his name to come onstage. So he gave in, and god did he stick out like a sore thumb, light washed Levi's with a navy Henley, glasses on cause he had a migraine the day before from squinting at everything, it the crowd still cheered when he appeared, Eddie smiled at him all dimples and the guys gave an exaggerated slow clap at finally getting him onstage.

Eddie took his hand, the other one still holding his mike, and the band started up a cover of Tainted Love, one of the few songs that both Eddie and Steve agreed kicked ass. Maybe the lyrics didn't really reflect how they feel for each other, but watching Eddie sing to Steve, there was no doubt the man was very much in love. And when he held up the mike to Steve on the second chorus, Steve couldn't help but sing.

And oh, how Eddie's face dropped into open mouth shock, Steve had to catch his hand to keep the mike level. A quick glance showed the rest of the boys looked just as shocked, the music only continuing by pure muscle memory. Steve almost stopped singing, panicked that he was ruining the show with his voice, but the crowd was going wild and he could see the cameras flashing, and Eddie, Eddie was coming in close, the chorus over and he leaned in to Steve's ear and shouted, "don't stop!" So he didn't. And they finished the song together and thank god it was the last song in their set. So when Eddie pulled away and gave his goodbye with the rest of the band, Steve quickly walked offstage and headed to the green room, heart pounding a mile a minute.

It wasn't too long before the rest of the band piled in, and Eddie ran right to him, grabbing his face and kissing him hard.

Finally pulling away after too short a time, Eddie beamed at him. "How the fuck did I not know that you can sing?!"

Mind still a little scrambled from the kiss, Steve took a moment to answer. "Huh?"

Not the most eloquent, but he was still reeling from the loss of those lips against his own.

"Yeah man, when Ed said he was gonna pull you on stage, not gonna lie, I thought you were gonna sound awful." Garath said, earning a smack on the head from Jeff and Martin (unnamed freak).

"Not how I would've put it, but, I thought there was a reason you never sang with us before. So yeah, that was an unexpected surprise." Jeff smoothed over, knowing that so sometimes Steve's insecurities got the better if him, having mediated several fights between him and Eddie in the past.

"Holy shit baby, you were so good! I almost didn't remember to sing cause I was too busy falling even more in love with the most perfect man on earth!" Eddie gushed, gently shaking Steve by his shoulders.

"Cute, but also, get a room guys." Martin laughed. "But seriously Steve, you have a good voice. I don't know why we've been hiring background singers for some of our songs when we could've just had you do it instead."

"Oh, well, I-I don't know. I never thought I was a good singer yeah? Not for like, performing? I just wanted to kinda, ride the high of tonight, if that makes sense." Steve said, blushing and a little overwhelmed at the attention, but trying to embrace it and take the genuine compliments he was getting (something he struggled to do on a daily basis, neglectful parents having left their mark).

"First of all, bite me Martin," throwing his band mate the finger, Eddie was still beaming which softened the blow, the others laughing at him. "and second, Stevie, baby, you sound amazing! Light, but still raspy and sexy as hell." Giving him a peck on the cheek, Eddie whispered in his ear. "Gonna sing for me later big boy? In bed maybe?"

And what could Steve say to that? So he just pulled Eddie in for more kisses, deepening them regardless of the guys complaining.

The next day, the picture that was making waves in the music community was of Steve singing into the mike, Eddie looking at him with starts in his eyes and his face completely lovestruck.

@steddieassheg0es @oakenorcrist

[lunaefall]

The Red Flags of Ruby's Suicidality Throughout The Volume

It should be obvious, but this short essay will cover heavy subjects of suicide, so if you're uncomfortable with this subject matter please don't read this.

The first red flag was in episode 4, where Ruby contemplated erasing her current self due to her failures, after talking to her 'past self'.

This gets reinforced by the lyrics of Trapdoor, which is about how worthless and unneeded Ruby feels.

One common mindset among suicidal people is this: what if I'm useless? What if my friends don't need me anymore? What if they don't care about me? What if I'll keep ruining everything? Would the world be better without me?

Suicidal people are usually full of self-loathing and blame.

Even in the episode 7 fight Ruby felt useless after seeing C-PTSD red flags (they're not Neo hallucinations because she didn't see the Schnee manor grounds struggle with hacked Penny). In her eyes, the others are fighting well without her, so she's useless.

Another set of red flags is snapping at your loved ones, pushing them away and driving yourself into isolation. We see ALL these in episodes 7 and 8, with Ruby snapping at her friends and running away, and even pushing Little away.

And on top of it she feels like her friends don't care, the world is against her, etc. which is YET another red flag.

(Massive disclaimer that this is NOT anti WBY and they, especially Yang, tried to reach out to her throughout the volume.)

I'd like to mention that if your loved one attempts and you tried to help but couldn't do it, it is NOT your fault. We're not all experts and we try our best, so do not ever blame yourself for these things.

It's not uncommon for suicidal people to refuse help, and on top of it Ruby has always been selfless to self destructive levels.

And the last thing, her self blame over her loved ones dying. While Penny and Pyrrha were apparitions, they still reflected her self blame. And Little dying? The final straw.

So her suicide attempt in the end was being built up all volume.

All I can say is that I hope Ruby somehow gets rescued and also recovers from her mental health problems because JESUS CHRIST.

This was a bit hard for me to write, especially as someone with BPD and frequent suicidal tendencies. This topic hits hard for me. However, I'm not an expert and this post shouldn't be taken as gospel. There may be details even I missed, so feel free to add your own observations.

And remember that if you are suicidal as well, you're not alone. You'll always have people who care about you, and resources to help out.

[peterm4rker]

¿dónde está la biblioteca? || z.cl

twenty four. are you shitting me? (written)

you hoped whoever princess was had a shitty day.

it was nothing against her, really (yes it was). but mostly against the fact that the simple knowledge of her existence had ruined the last few days of your life.

after realising that there was no way that chenle had anyone but a girl named like that on his phone, you had spent the last two days dragging about in your apartment, bored out of your mind and a tiny bit sad.

you have grown accustomed to chenle’s presence in your life. his texts, his twitter interactions, the hours upon hours he spent inside of your head. so now that you had decided to take your time and distance from him, everything was oddly quiet. you spent the first two days simply moping around, watching straight seasons of new girl and eating away your feelings with cookie dough ice cream, which oddly enough, you had never liked that much until it began to remind you of chenle.

it was day three on the “forgetting about my feelings for chenle and going back to being best friends with him” agenda, and the outro to the last episode of new girl played on your computer screen. you stared at it with a blank face and teary eyes, feeling hollow once again as there was nothing to fixate on to make you feel better.

as you picked up your phone to call sunwoo and cry to him about everything but chenle (he vetoed his name for the next week), you found your own teary eyed reflection and it was nothing more than pathetic.

since when did you let yourself cry over boys and mope around for days on end?

absolutely not.

you turned off your phone and got out of bed, grabbing a towel and heading straight to the shower. music blared through the alexa on the counter as you let water wash the negativity away, allowing a smile onto your face. you picked a cute outfit and grabbed your bag, putting one airpod on before leaving your house and jumping into ludovica.

the drive to the coffee shop was pretty long, but it didn't bother you. that was what you needed, fresh air and some sun.

you parked your car and happily got out of it, making sure to greet the workers as you approached the counter and ordered your favourite drink and a pastry. once the order was placed you walked to a nearby table, pulling out your computer and your notebook, deciding to get some work done.

the music playing through your headphones drowned out any other thought that could have crossed your mind. the melody tingling your brain and the lyrics sinking into your skin as you tried your hardest to write your report on one of your biggest musical inspirations. 

right then and there, everything seemed to fall into place. the coffee was exactly as you liked it, the pastry was beautifully done and the words seemed to just flow out of you. 

you didn't need chenle. you didn't need anyone.

but of course, if being run over and stranded at an airport had taught you anything, was that these feelings normally didn't last for you. and still, you were a little surprised as you felt a tap on your shoulders, raising your head only to be met by none other than hong seunghan.

he smiled brightly at you, the corner of his eyes brimming with joy as he waved. you took your headphones off quickly, trying to match his smile and hide your surprise. “hey, seunghan!” you greeted happily.

“hey ynnie, what are you doing here? i don't think I’ve seen you here before” he says, but he has, because you used to go to that exact coffee shop whenever you thought he would be there. 

“just getting some work done, you?” you answered.

“I was supposed to meet maru but she couldn't make it” he shrugged, looking at the chair in front of you “is this seat taken?”

“oh, no, go ahead” you nudged towards the chair, allowing him to sit with you. 

a few months ago, hell, even weeks, you would've been elated to be sitting with seunghan out of all people. but as you saw him sit and give you that astonishing smile of his, there was nothing.

because it wasn't his smile that made your stomach erupt into butterflies anymore.

★🎧⋆｡ °⋆

conversation easily flowed between you, making you set your work aside completely to focus your attention on him.

“can i tell you something a little embarrassing? i'm only comfortable saying this now because i’m madly in love with my girlfriend” he asked as he calmed down from a fit of laughter you had very proudly caused.

“yeah, of course” you smiled reassuringly, suddenly curious at what his next words would be.

“i used to have a huge crush on you but i was too scared to say anything” he admitted bashfully. your jaw fell open for a couple seconds, before erupting into laughter and hiding your face in your hands “hey! don't laugh at me!” he exclaimed with a soft laugh.

“i'm not laughing at you! its just” you cut yourself off and took your hands away from your face, looking at him once again “i had a massive crush on you for about two years” 

“you're shitting me right now” he deadpanned, and you shook your head as a chuckle escaped your lips. “i was scared for nothing!?” 

“yup, i would've given you everything i've ever owned if i knew” you chuckled.

“thats crazy… When did you stop liking me?” he asked curiously, and you pursed your lips a bit awkwardly.

“maybe around a month ago?” you said, doubt making your voice high pitched. his jaw fell open once again.

“that little ago?” you nodded, sheepish smile still on your lips “then… i'm guessing chenle happened?”

you nodded once again.

“well then, I'm happy it worked out for the both of us” he chuckled as he sipped his drink again.

“i wouldn't say it has worked out for me” you commented, stirring the liquid of your second cup of coffee of the day.

“how so?” he asked, curious once again. who would’ve thought he liked chisme so much?

“well, chenle has no idea i like him and also has a girl, so” you pursed your lips once again.

“huh? chenle doesnt have a girl” seunghan replied, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“he doesn't?” your eyebrows moved to match his, his confusion contagious.

“nah, he is pretty bitchless” the way he said it made you laugh, rolling your eyes.

“then who is princess?” you asked. you didn't know why you were having this conversation with seunghan out of all people, but if it was giving you good information then it was totally worth it.

“princess?” he thought about it for a second, his furrowed eyebrows falling into a deadpan as he seemed to remember “thats literally jaemin”

“wait, what?” you asked, even more confused than before.

“that's how he has him saved, with a little bow, right?” right.

you had never felt so stupid in your life.

you just had spent two days moping around your room for nothing.

you had spent two days ignoring chenle for nothing.

“i might end it all” you groaned and let your head fall into the crook of your arms, resting on top of the table. seunghan let out a loud laugh.

“no way you thought he had a girlfriend” he laughed “its so obvious that he's–” he cut himself off suddenly, making you look up at him

“hes what?”

“nothing, forget it” he dismissed it. he wasn't going to rat out his boy like that. “i can help you”

“help me with what?” you sat up once again, feeling defeated by your own dumbness.

“chenle, i know him very well, and i think i can help you confess” he said, decided smile adorning his pretty face.

“you really think so?” you asked, a tiny bit of doubt in your voice.

“of course, i'll need some help but i definitely can” he nodded, convincingly.

“then let's do it.”

previous ★ masterlist ★ next

★ word count ;; 1.4k

★ authors note ;; SEUNGHAN IS BACK I REPEAT MY MAN IS BACK !!!!!! sooo incredibly grateful that i chose him as the crush because i can post this chapter and introduce their beautiful friendship the day after he was announced back !!!!

★ tag list ;; @yutarot @chenlesfavorite @fullsunbabe @taroddori @morkiee @jovialdelusionbouquet @winwintea @flaminghotyourmom @haechskiss @xuimhao @dudekiss3r @neozon3nha

[xcherryerim]

Si tú me quisieras

(If you loved me)

Mike schmidt x Gn!reader | wc: 2.2k

“Si tú me quisieras, el amor que quisieras lo tendrías conmigo. No soy cursilera, pero si me quisieras, sería todo distinto” — Si tú me quisieras by Nia Vanie & Adrian Bello

Warning: Friends to lovers | Sappy | angst and fluff (?) | mentions of sex | fighting | a bit of aggressive Mike

notes: it seems like I love writing sappy stuff for Mike at 1-4 am. I didn’t really revise this so sorry if there is many mistakes or repeated words ✨ Also the lyrics in this story is the same as the one from the intro (and yes. Mike knows spanish here)

Summary: As time goes by, it becomes increasingly difficult for Mike not to hide the secrets that are troubling him. He has had enough and decides to reveal his feelings to you, his best friend.

You caught sight of Mike wearing the same shade of sage green shirt you were wearing. With a deep breath, you called out to him, "No, no! Change, please. That's too much of a coincidence!”

Mike sighed heavily, slamming the car door shut behind him. His eyes narrowed, frustration etched onto his face. "Can you give me a break? This is the only clean shirt I have left!"

Reluctantly, you let out a frustrated groan. It wasn't about the shirt or the coincidences; it was about how deeply it affected you every time he wore that particular color. But you knew pushing him further wouldn't solve anything. So instead, you relented, "Fine, fine."

Why does it matter anyway?" he asked, increasing the volume of the radio in an attempt to cover up his unease.

Your fingers tightened around the steering wheel as you tried to explain your concern. "Because people are going to think we're a couple,"

Mike couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. He had been hoping that today would be the day when you finally noticed him in the way he wanted you to. But here he was.

“But like, we aren’t so it doesn't matter, does it?”

“I guess.” You shrugged.

You started to suggest what movie to watch at the end of the day. A little tradition you guys did after running errands together, but Mike was staring at the street, drowning in his thoughts. Did you hate the idea of dating him that much?

“No hay nada que pueda hacer que me veas, y eso me duele tanto. Y aunque tú no me quieras como yo te quiero yo te seguiré amando.” / “There's nothing I can do to make you look at me, and that breaks me. Even if you don’t love me like I love you, I'll still adore you.”

"Isn't this the song that you like, Mike?" you asked, a small smile forming on your lips.

Mike's response was quiet and subdued. "Uh, yeah."

He didn't like the song, not really. He related to it, to every verse, word, and beat. It was a reflection of his feelings, a mirror to his unspoken thoughts and emotions. The lyrics echoed through the car, resonating with both of you in different ways.

“Dicen que de amor nadie se muere, pero si este dolor es la alternativa, prefiero la muerte” / “They say no one dies out of love, but if this pain is the alternative, I rather die.”

Mike sat silently next to you, the strum of guitar strings and the singer's melodic voice echoing throughout the car. A wave of disappointment washed over him, making the atmosphere in the vehicle almost suffocating. You could sense his discomfort, but you pressed on, trying to stay focused on the road ahead.

“Te estoy amando aunque no te diga nada. Estoy guardando este secreto para mí en el fondo de mi alma. Si tú me quisieras, no perdería ni un minuto más. Me entregaría con sinceridad, si te quedas conmigo.” / “I'm loving you even if I keep quiet. I’m keeping this secret in the depths of my soul. If you loved me, I wouldn't lose another minute more. I’ll sincerely give myself to you, if you stay with me.”

…

Feeling the need to intervene, Mike quickly stepped in to assist an elderly woman who was struggling to reach for a specific medicine. "Oh, let me help with that," he said, his voice filled with genuine kindness. As he handed her the item she needed, a warm smile spread across his lips, and you couldn't help but feel proud of his compassionate nature.

The woman thanked him graciously, her eyes twinkling with gratitude. "Thank you, sweetheart," she said, her gaze shifting between you both. "You two look like a nice couple. It reminds me of when my late husband and I used to go shopping together."

A sudden flush crept up your cheeks as the weight of her words settled upon the both of you. You knew it wasn't intentional, but the implication made your heart race faster than it should. Swallowing hard, you felt the need to clarify things.

"We're not a couple," you quickly replied, your voice tinged with slight awkwardness. The heat from your blush radiated outward, an audible confession of your true feelings.

Mike smiled gently at you, his eyes dancing with a mix of mirth and sadness. "Definitely not a couple," he affirmed, a hint of longing lurking beneath the surface.

As he turned to face you, he couldn't help but notice the defensive posture you took, your arms firmly crossed over your chest. Was there pain in your eyes? No, it couldn't be. He pushed the thought aside, choosing to focus on the present moment.

"Well, you seem pretty insulted by that," he remarked casually, attempting to shift the topic away from the elephant in the room.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “What? I’m not good enough for you?” Your words were laced with humor, but the underlying emotion was undeniable. There was a yearning, a desire for something more.

Mike sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he shook his head. "We are not having this conversation again," he stated firmly. Today, he simply couldn't muster the energy for the friendly flirtation that had become a routine between the two of you.

The innocent, fun activity of grocery shopping quickly transformed into something far more uncomfortable between the two of you. The mood had shifted dramatically, leaving behind a heavy silence that seemed to grow more oppressive with every passing second.

Mike could no longer mask his emotions – his face bore the unmistakable signs of anger, complete with furrowed eyebrows and heavy breathing. His movements became more forceful as he tossed items into the cart, each action an expression of the tumultuous emotions churning within him.

Unable to bear the tension any longer, you hesitantly asked, "Are you alright?" The question hung in the air, seemingly adding fuel to the fire. The guilt you felt for asking it gnawed at your insides, knowing that you might have only exacerbated the situation.

Mike glared at you, his dark eyes flashing with hurt and resentment. At that moment, he couldn't bring himself to answer your question.

As you tried to find a way to bridge the gap, you couldn't help but wonder if this was truly the last straw in maintaining the delicate balance of your friendship. For years, the two of you had shared laughter, tears, and dreams, but now you stood on the precipice of something unfamiliar and uncertain.

…

To lighten the mood, you attempted a weak joke, "Where else, boss?" but it fell flat in the wake of the tension between the two of you.

Mike provided a terse response, focusing on giving directions to Walmart without acknowledging your attempt at humor. "I need to get a few things for Abby, she's doing a project for school," he said, buckling his seatbelt.

Attempting to ignore the growing discord, you asked, "Oh, are there any close by?" and started the car, navigating the streets according to the directions Mike had given you. However, your nerves got the better of you, and you found yourself missing turns and getting lost.

Each error only served to fuel the fire. Mike's frustration grew with every misstep, a slow burn that threatened to consume the both of you. And then, finally, it boiled over. "Left, I said fucking left!" he shouted, his voice cracking with the strain of holding back his emotions.

"My fucking god. Can you drive?"

Stung by his harsh words, you couldn't help but retaliate. "What the hell is your problem? Why are you suddenly acting like a bitch?" Angry tears pricked at your eyes, the frustration of the day taking its toll on your composure.

His eyes locked onto yours, the transit stretching on as he struggled to find the right words. Finally, he snapped, "Because you're terrible at driving!" It was a feeble excuse, an attempt to deflect from the real issue that loomed between you.

Your heart sank as you demanded answers, pleading with him to reveal the truth. "I'm not stupid, Mike. Tell me what is it!"

Mike's jaw clenched tightly, his mind racing as he tried to find the words to articulate his thoughts. But the harder he tried, the more elusive the truth seemed to become. The weight of the question pressed down upon him, threatening to crush the fragile foundation of their friendship.

Finally, he posed the question that hung between him like a cloud. "Do you hate the idea of being with me?" His heart pounded in your chest, waiting for your response, fear and hope to battle within him.

"What? Am I disgusting to you? Is it because I don't have a set job? Why?"

The weight of those words hung heavily between you, the car falling silent except for the hum of the engine. In that moment, everything felt on the line – your friendship, your future, and the truth that had been bubbling under the surface for so long.

"I never said that," you responded, your voice shaking with hurt and confusion. You grasped for some semblance of control amidst the chaos of your emotions.

"Well, you don't have to!" Mike declared, his voice wavering. Years of unspoken feelings finally burst forth, spilling out in a torrent of raw honesty. "We've avoided this for years. We're not friends!" The accusation hung in the air.

Mike recounted memories that flooded your minds, moments shared between the two of you that transcended the boundaries of friendship. "Holding hands at IKEA? Almost kissing? Showering together and almost having shower sex?"

With a bitter laugh, Mike snarled, "Friends, my balls. We're more than that, and we've been avoiding the truth for too long. It's time to face it."

"I just didn't know you liked me..." you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of the truth bore down on you, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief mixed with the overwhelming emotions that threatened to consume you.

Mike's eyes softened, and for a moment, the tension between you seemed to dissipate. "I've liked you for a long time," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I was scared to say anything, scared of losing you as a friend."

The car fell silent once more, the hum of the engine the only sound that broke the heavy silence. At that moment, the two of you sat there, grappling with the new reality that had been laid bare between you. The path forward was uncertain, but one thing was clear – the friendship you had cherished for so long has now changed.

Mike sighed deeply, attempting to gather his thoughts and steady his escalating emotions. "I understand if you don't want to ever see me again," he murmured, his tone filled with a combination of regret and resignation. Despite the turmoil, he reached out and gripped your hand tightly, a silent plea for understanding.

"But, if that is the case," he continued, his voice catching in his throat, "at least let me kiss you... for the first and last time." The request hung in the air, heavy with the implication of finality.

You felt your body tremble at his words, a mix of excitement and fear coursing through you. The prospect of sharing this intimate moment with Mike, the one person you'd always cared for, both thrilled and terrified you.

"I don't want to die without knowing what it feels like to kiss you," he said, his voice filled with a mix of longing and desperation. The weight of the moment bore down on both of you, the unspoken emotions finally giving voice.

"And you won't have to," you whispered, desperation mingling with determination in your voice. Without another word, you leaned in, closing the distance between you until your lips met his in a searing kiss that echoed the years of longing that had built up between you.

Mike hesitated for only a moment before responding, his arms wrapping around you as the passion of the moment took hold. The weight of the past years melted away, replaced by the intensity of the present. For once, the uncertainty that had plagued your friendship was gone, replaced instead by the electric connection that had always been there, hiding just beneath the surface.

As the kiss lingered, you began to realize that this was not the end, but the beginning of a new chapter for you both. The path forward may be fraught with uncertainty, but you were ready to face it together, finally embracing the love that had grown between you.

Fin, Hope you enjoyed! I just wanted to write more than smut 😪

[averytirednerd]

Oh yeah, time for a big rant about Hazbin Hotel!!!

I haven’t really had much of a chance to sit down and write about this since I watched the episodes, so things I say are probably going to reflect what others have said. I’m just writing this to gush about the things I love about some particular songs in HH. 

I didn’t have any big expectations going into the first episode, because I’d mostly heard negative reviews of the show so far. I had heard that the songs, however, were bright spots, so I really looked out for the songs and listened in every time we were graced with one. The characters are truly the best versions of themselves whenever there’s a song going on, even if they aren’t the main focus of the song. It’s amazing to see, especially since my favorite thing about this show is the characters themselves.

My favorites are “Loser, Baby” & “Stayed Gone” and will probably be the main focus of this post because <3333

“Stayed Gone” is sung by Christian Borle (Vox) and Amir Talai (Alastor) and I could not be happier about it. Their voices are amazing here, and my favorite bits of this song are on repeat in my head.

I also love little visuals like the mug Vox has in the talk show format, the scrolling text in the news show format, or Vox’s error message toward the end of their bantering. 

(The scrolling text says: “I’m totally not worried about this guy and neither should you be. I totally wrecked his sh*t last time he tried me.”)

Alastor really gets under Vox’s skin and it makes me kick my feet every time. Their dynamic truly is everything, and I’m so excited we got this song that showcases it perfectly. 

He clearly enjoys it too, what a little jerk.

Speaking of these two, Vox definitely had/has a thing for Al at some point, right? I mean…inviting him to the Vees for a start. Not to mention just the v i b e s. Poor guy though, it’s definitely one-sided.

I love Al’s use of…modern…lingo. Truly a spectacle. That on top of it being a reveal of Al’s rejection to Vox’s offer 💀 I love this man <333

Last thing about this song, promise, but also I love the casual little lore drops and more pieces to the puzzle of the past that we get. Very exciting! Can’t wait to see how everything fits together once we find more pieces.

Okay okay, moving on. “Loser, Baby” is amazing musically as well as visually. 

First things first, I LOVE JAZZ OMG AND IT FITS HUSK’S VIBE AND EVERYTHING SO PERFECTLY???

Keith David’s voice definitely fits Husk in my eyes now, I see it, it works. He’s amazing. Does a fantastic job.

Not to mention Blake Roman’s performance was, of course, incredible as well. 

The big, upbeat, brassy sound in this song is amazing and I’m loving the trumpet in it especially (any fellow trumpet players? no?)

I love everything about this song. The visuals, voices, instrumentals, lyrics, message, all of it!

Husk slowly going from “yeah you kinda suck lmao, but so do I” in order to not make Angel feel like he’s not being genuine, to sneaking in a better message of “we’re not perfect but it’s okay, don’t be so hard on yourself” (and getting Angel to believe/go along with it too!!) is amazing. It’s a perfect example of these characters being the best versions of themselves during musical numbers. 

This song is what solidified Husk as number 2 in my rankings (and I’m sure I’m not the only one). I mean…just look at the way he moves, it’s so silly.

(We’re going to ignore the Videoshop watermarks, okay?)

Overall, I’m loving this show so far despite some obvious issues with pacing n such and an overall rocky start. Especially loving the songs, which I think kinda make the show rn. 

If anyone wants to add anything (because I definitely didn’t cover a whole lot, just surface level stuff because even this took a while to type out) then please feel free to! Also ask me any questions you’ve got for me concerning stuff that has/will happen(ed) in Hazbin Hotel. I love HH discourse!

Thanks to those of you who read all the way through, sorry for such a long post lol <3

[beom-pyu]

like the moon ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ huening kai

huening kai x gn!reader , tags; mermaid!kai , human!reader , modern fantasy au , fluff , courting , slightly inspired by the little mermaid ofc , rejection , angst , getting together ? in a mermaid way , mates/soul ties , reader is sleep deprived , taehyun is a smartass , totally not stealing outfit inspo from sugar rush ride as an addition to the plot wdym haha

warnings: making out , reader's gender isn't specified but you wear dresses , near death experience? reader almost drowns

a/n: hiiii! sooooo i tried something a little different this time for my fairytale-esque fantasy lovers??? lmk how u guys feel about it :] i hope you enjoy!!! (edited but not beta read so pls excuse any mistakes aaaa)

wc: 8.4k+

you love the ocean more than anything else in this big, wide world. you treasure the crisp air and the salty, but comforting scent of the atmosphere,  the way the rays of the sun would bounce off of the rushing waves and onto your skin fills your heart with an uncontained warmth, and the sunset reflected on the surface brings you a sense of serenity. you have loved the ocean since you were little—growing up on the coast, the sea was basically your backyard.

your mother had nicknamed you “droplet” from the way you would always run into the house dripping with ocean water, spending most of your days out at sea swimming—your favorite thing to do was pretend to be a pretty mermaid, chosen to protect the reef from any bad guys nearby. the ocean is your home, your sanctuary… where you belong.

ever since you moved towards the inner, bustling part of your town, you have made it your mission to visit the beach every few days if you can, whether it be to stay for three minutes or three hours. so here you are, stepping onto the sand with bare feet in a secluded area of the beach, jacket discarded on some random rock, notebook and pen in hand. you prefer writing your lyrics out here; the sounds of small waves hitting the shore and the occasional squawk of a passing seagull always seem to calm you, letting you release any tension in your muscles. you have been overworking yourself lately, staying up all night to produce and write songs, barely having any time to yourself to just be.

you settle down into the sand, resting your back against a washed-up long, and from there, you let your pen do all of the work. the air is a bit harsher than usual, the breeze whipping around you, knocking the bottom of your dress up slightly with the movement. you cross your legs, digging your toes into the sand as you look up at the sky—it’s a dull gray filled with heavy clouds making their move toward your small town. 

a faint frown makes its way onto your face; a summer storm must be coming soon. the clouds are still a ways away though, so you bask in the small time you have left to relax, writing down a few more lyrics as you listen to the quiet song of the sea. 

words flow easily onto the page as you let your train of thought take the reigns, a familiar serenity washing over you. the wind, although slightly aggressive, feels nice on your skin—it’s a little clammy outside, the humidity of summer lingering in the atmosphere. everything is hushed, peaceful, and you think you can fall asleep right here on the shore.

the calmness in your body only lasts for so long—your body snaps to alert as a loud, echoing shriek interrupts the quiet. you tuck your legs into your chest as your eyes scan the beach, but nothing seems out of the ordinary, save for a forgotten towel a little further down the shore and the heavy clouds above you.

you squint a bit as you look out onto the water and a beat later, you notice a head peek out from under the deep blue surface. it’s not alarming in the slightest, though—divers do frequent this area during this time of year. brushing it off, you let your body relax as you settle back against the log, watching the diver go back under the water.

for a while, things go back to the way they were, your pen writing down as many lyrics as possible, tapping your foot in the sand as you hum a quiet tune to yourself. figuring out melodies has to be your favorite part of songwriting—hearing the words on your page come to fruition is a beyond-satisfying feeling. it isn’t until a few minutes later that your groove is heckled once again, that same shriek you heard before ringing through your ears. 

your eyes immediately find their way to the water, your heart nearly stopping in your chest as you lock gazes with the same head you saw a moment ago.

you’re quick to realize that whatever you’re seeing isn’t a diver. the man, or rather… creature has emerald green eyes, almost glowing as they glare from above the water, its dark hair wet and pressed down against their forehead. something akin to white, fish-like scales line the side of its face, flashy and sparkling. you can’t see the rest of the face due to the waves, but the head goes back under before you can fully process what you just saw.

you’re frozen still—those unnaturally green eyes send a chill down your spine. there’s no way that was just a diver, or a passing fish. whatever it was, it freaks you the fuck out. maybe you’re just imagining things. you’ve been running on less than three hours of sleep a day, staying up late to write and produce. you have over 20 commissions to complete in the next two months, so to say you’ve been neglecting your health would be an understatement. thinking of the fact, you decide it’s best to head home early; not only to avoid the soon-to-come storm but also to possibly squeeze in a quick power nap before the all-nighter you’re about to pull.

shooting a quick text to taehyun about how you’re so looped out, you’re starting to hallucinate (and receiving a lengthy scolding of a text back), you make your way home—and you don’t let yourself look back onto the water after a third noise sounds from behind you. must be a dolphin mating call.

or something like that.

the clouds have parted for the sun the next day you make it onto the beach. the wind is still persistent, but it’s not as bad as the day before, so you simply zip your jacket up to your neck as you walk through the sand. you didn’t bring your lyric book today—partially because taehyun had chastised you over the phone about your workaholic tendencies—but you really just wanted to relax. there’s a slight crook in your neck from the awful sleep you had last night, your eyelids heavy and your movements nearly sluggish. this lack of sleep has really been doing a number on you, but you know the sound of the ocean waves can help you de-stress, even just a little bit.

as you make your way to your usual spot against that big, washed-up log, you notice things sparkling in the sand right where you normally sit. you tilt your head in confusion, making your way over with a little more ferver in your step.

a small circle of pretty shells rests in your secluded spot, sparkling as the sun hits their smooth surface. they twinkle like stars in the sky and you can’t help but gasp at how beautiful they are, luminescent and bright. in the center of the circle sits a small, rusted gold necklace with an attached hand-carved pendant—the symbol is a crescent moon with faint initials at the bottom that you can’t quite read. you look around to see if anyone is around to claim the necklace, frowning a bit at the deserted beach. someone must’ve forgotten their things. 

you take a closerlook at the beautiful array, running your fingers over the awe-worthy shells—and one, in particular, catches your eye. it’s a pristine white, so rich you’d think it were manmade. it glimmers as you gently pick it up, holding it up to the sunlight. the color reminds you of those scales you had seen above the water the last time you were here.

it’s odd—whatever you imagined seemed so vivid and true. you can still physically feel the intensity of those green eyes, sharp and prying from where they watched you over the colliding waves. the sight had been so jarring that when you closed your eyes to rest that night, a pair of verdant ones glared back at you in the darkness. you don’t get enough sleep as it is, but you were barely able to get a wink of it with that image in your head.

you take a good look at the shell one last time, declaring it too beautiful to leave here all alone on the deserted beach—you slip it into your tote bag before taking a seat a few feet away from the necklace, just in case anyone comes back to retrieve it. the waves are gentle as they crash onto the shore, leaving seaweed, pebbles, and little crusteaceans in its wake. the sound is lulling as you settle your back against a nearby rock, letting your eyes slip shut to bask in the peaceful bliss.

you may have underestimated just how tired you really are, because as you blink your eyes open with a tiny yawn, you realize you had fallen asleep. the hidden gleam of the sun has moved towards west and you aren’t sure how long you’ve been here, but the uncomfortable pain in your lower back from the sharp rock behind you is telling enough.

it isn’t until you hear a small, surprised noise next to you that you actually will your brain to wake up. the scream you let out at the sight of a man crouched down next to you is absolutely embarrassing—especially with the way he simply fliches back a bit, his eyes widening at the sudden noise.

his eyes.

they’re a shockingly vivid green, round and dilated as he blinks owlishly at you.

they look incredibly familiar.

he seems to be just as startled as you are, and as your vision focuses a bit more, you notice the pearly white scales that sit on his face, glistening in the sunlight. tiny, pointy fangs peak out from his slightly ajar mouth, his black hair fluffed up and sun dried as it falls in waves on his forehead, framing his face prettily.

he’s very pretty.

but holy shit—you gasp as he blinks at you again, finally remembering where you’ve seen those eyes from.

well, this is great. you are so sleep-deprived that your imagination has now festered into some sick lucid dream. 

wake up, y/n! 

the man—the thing—seems to sense your disarray, a quiet noise sounding from the back of his throat as he reaches out to you with furrowed brows. you jump, moving back from the sudden movement, eyeing the fangs that rest on his bottom lip. 

oh god, this dream feels all too realistic and now you’re about to get eaten by some sexy monster man! this is why it’s important to have a consistent sleeping schedule, y/n!

you can hear your heartbeat in your ears as he stands to move in front of you—from this angle, you can get a good look at his figure. he’s incredibly tall, with long legs that go on for miles. his frame is covered by a tatted black and white sweater that just barely hangs onto his shoulder and a satchel across his frame, his upper body completely exposed to the slightly chilling air. he wears loose white shorts that reach just above his knees, littered with holes and tears—as if they had been washed onto sea after a treacherous journey across the ocean. that gold necklace from before rests in his hands, the chain dangling down and clinking softly in the wind. it must be his, you register. you open you mouth to defend yourself as not-a-theif—but you’re quickly cut off. 

he doesn’t speak other than to hold out the necklace to you with a small and insistent noise, his green eyes flitting quickly between yours. the pounding in your chest is incredibly persistent, every single bone inside of your body urging you to not take it—but your hand seems to have a mind of its own, reaching up to grasp the damp gold, your fingers shaking as they brush over the green-eyed man’s.

you can see the way his eyes glimmer as you warily hold the necklace against your chest, your breath stuck in your throat as he digs around in his satchel again. there’s no way you aren’t dreaming, everything seeming like a haze around you as you inspect the scattered white scales on his cheekbones, eyeing the fangs that slightly peek out from his mouth which leave shallow indents on his bottom lip.

his head turns towards you again and you feel your neck heat up from being caught staring, your gaze shooting down to your lap. you squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to wake up from this lucid dream, ignoring the way you can hear the man so clearly shuffling around in front of you.

you’re lucid dreaming, y/n. you really shouldn’t have eaten right before bed! wake up, wake up, wake up.

you count to ten in your head before you open your eyes again, flinching back as you find emerald green staring directly into yours. he’s kneeled down in front of you now, one of his hands in the sand next to your foot, his head cocked curiously as he scans your face—his thick, black hair falls into his eyes messily and up close, you notice the tiny beauty marks littered across his face and neck, the way his lips are bitten red, and the steady rise and fall of his chest.

so you aren’t dreaming? then that means… 

the man is cautious as he raises a hand to his chest, pressing over his heart before he bows to you. your mouth is dry—what the hell is going on?

you have no time to think before he lifts his head again, gazing up at you through his impossibly long eyelashes, the tiniest shadow of a smile slipping onto his lips. 

“i am kai.”

his voice is clumsy and horse, almost as if he doesn’t use it much, and a heavy, unknown accent paints his words as he speaks. the white scales on his face gleam in the sunlight and you find yourself slightly intrigued, wanting to reach up and feel them, but stopping yourself from doing so.

the man… or rather, the creature seems gentle enough—if he had planned on biting your head off, he surely would’ve done it by now. you let your guard lower as you sit up a bit, the necklace still clutched tightly between your fingers.

“my name is y/n,” you respond quietly—and the way his face lights up is absolutely blinding, a broad gleam taking over his initially shy smile, his scales twitching in an almost cute way. you watch as his hand drops from his chest, moving into your space to cup the side of your face. your body immediately tenses at the unexpected touch, a noise of surprise leaving your lips.

he leans forward as if to kiss you and a surge of panic courses through your body, cringing away from his hold—but he does no such thing. instead, he rests his forehead against yours, mumbling something in an unrecognizable language as his eyes flutter shut. you’re frozen in slight shock, but the lack of fear in your body confuses you to no end. you should be trying to run away from this strange creature, but instead, you feel… relaxed. a calm washes over you as his skin touches yours, feeling yourself be lulled by the quiet words he speaks to you.

when he pulls away, the grin is still on his face, running his finger down your cheek before moving out of your space. you try not to acknowledge the slight emptiness that fills your chest at the loss of touch, a faint and warm trail lingering from where is finger had traced.

“you took… you took one of m-my shells,” kai speaks with an eager bounce in his tone, gesturing toward your tote where that glimmering white shell still remains. your eyes follow his hand, quickly reaching for your bag to pry it open and search for the shell.

“oh, i’m sorry! i didn’t know it had an… owner…” you trail off as his eyebrows furrow, his lips twitching downwards as you grab the shell out of your bag. “you can have it back if you want…?”

the creature’s eyes comically widen, shaking his head at your words. he pushes your hand back towards you, a small whine emitting from his throat. 

“gift,” he states firmly, nodding towards the shell. you look down at the shell quizzically, everything slowly piecing together in your head bit by bit.

“you… did you leave all of those shells for… me?”

the bright smile quickly returns to the creature’s face as he nods fervently, his scales rippling in excitement. while you finally got answers to the weird phenomenon, you’re still full of bewilderment—what is this creature and why is he giving these gifts to you out of all people? it simply makes no sense.

“for you,” kai confirms, leaning into your space again now that you seem to understand. you catch the way his verdant eyes flicker with an emotion you can’t quite read. 

offering him a genial smile, you gently place the shell back in your bag. “thank you… but… why?”

the creature cocks his head, confusion overtaking his charming features at your question. he turns his head to glance back at the water before meeting your gaze again, pointing in that direction. 

you blink at him a few times, trying to understand what he’s referring to, but nothing comes to mind. seeming to sense your puzzled state, kai reaches into his satchel again—his eyebrows are furrowed with concentration as things clink and clang around in the bag. all you can do is sit and watch as he hums with contentment, pulling out a tiny metal ring before setting it in the sand before you.

you gape at the object, glancing down at the ring and back up to his eyes a few times—because if this is what you think is happening… and if this isn’t a dream… then you’re definitely hallucinating. you aren’t ready to get married! especially not to some strange being who clearly doesn’t know the concept of personal space.

“what is… what is this?” you ask quietly, your voice wavering slightly. kai smiles at you, nodding towards the ring gently.

“for the humans to know y-you are my mate, y/n.”

you blink at him, feeling your breath catch in your throat.

his what?

“i’m sorry… i’m not your… uh, mate. i—i think you’ve gotten me confused with someone else…” you begin slowly as you move to stand and get the fuck out of here; something you should’ve done when he first approached you. kai is quick to shake his head, his vibrant eyes dulling with something melancholic and heavy, reaching out to grab onto your bag so you can’t go.

“i am not confused. you are my mate,” kai speaks desperately, still kneeling down with the ring now slightly buried in the sand. you don’t know what type of creature he is, or what is even going on, but you are certain this doesn’t have anything to do with you. 

you’re a human and he’s a… whatever he is. there’s no such thing as mates. he’s surely one hell of a hallucination. next time, you’ll actually listen to taehyun’s lecture about the side effects of sleep deprivation and too much caffeine intake.

“this is… this is crazy. i have to go,” you respond sharply, ripping your gaze away from his distraught eyes—something in your heart pangs deeply at the pure sadness on his beautiful face, your gut twisting with something sticky and vile.

kai’s fingers hesitantly let go of your bag with a quiet, pained noise, shrinking in on himself as you give him one last glance before quickly heading towards your car. 

when you take a glimpse back to the shore as you begin to pull off, the man is nowhere to be seen—except for a slight glimmer of a white scale disappearing beneath the tide.

for the next few days, it rains—thick and heavy clouds cover your small seaside town, drenching every bit it can reach. the beach is closed off due to high tides, the waves all too harsh and cutting to be safe for visitors. being cooped up in your apartment is starting to drive you crazy—you already miss the salty smell of the water, the softness of the sand between your fingers…

and the calming touch of the strange creature you encountered.

it’s something horrible in the way that this… thing has been overtaking your mind, tainting your mind with emerald green every passing second. every time you sit down to write a new song, your pen develops a mind of its own; going on about the ocean’s waves, and glittering white scales, and vibrant eyes. it’s like a curse, the way you can only think about kai and nothing else.

after ruminating in your thoughts as the rain continues to nearly flood your town, you’ve come to the conclusion that kai wasn’t a hallucination. that shiny white shell sits nicely on your dresser, right next to the gold necklace you had been so selflessly gifted. 

you try not to let the guilt eat away at you—the creature had been nothing but kind to you, but the uncertainty is too much. what, with the talk about mates, the gifts, and that eerie calmness that overtook your body as he whispered those foreign words to you… it sounds like something straight out of a fairytale. 

it’s late when you settle into bed, your laptop resting in your lap as your phone sits on speaker next to you—they say curiosity killed the cat, but you need answers. sleep be damned.

“so what you’re telling me is that a strange, sexy man with scales on his face gifted you random shells and an old ass necklace before claiming you to be his mate?” taehyun recaps through the phone, voice coated in monotone incredulity. it sounds absolutely ridiculous when he puts it that way, but you’re having a hard time believing it even happened yourself, so you can’t blame him.

“i said a strange, sexy creature, not man.” 

the line is silent for a second.

“y/n… i know you’ve been stressed lately, but don’t you think it’s time to bring these delusions to a licensed professional—”

“taehyun, this isn’t a delusion! it actually happened!” you huff out, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. you try to put yourself in his shoes—if your friend told you they’ve been approached by a majestic creature, you’d also recommend them to get help—but you know what you saw. what you felt.

“that’s exactly how delusions work, sweetheart. we may think things are real, but—”

“hold on, shut up. listen to this,” you click on a link to a news page set in your town, the article dated back to 2007. “two foreign aquatic creatures were spotted near the shore on june 6th, at approximately 3 pm. they are described to be humanoid beings, with scaly, fish-like features.”

“y/n, that’s literally like every fish ever.”

“since when were goldfish considered to be ‘humanoid-beings’,” you quip, actually rolling your eyes this time before you zoom in on the blurry pictures provided on the site. It’s hard to make out in the 480p photo taken from a distance, but there seems to be two people, a male and a female, washed up on shore. they have long, shiny fish-tails that glisten in the way the scales on kai’s face did, their torsos completely human save for the gills on the sides of their neck. 

it’s all too jarring, all too real—and in your mind, right then, it clicks.

“please don’t tell me you think—”

“i think he’s a mermaid, taehyun.”

back when you were young, still the little “droplet” everyone knew, your grandmother would tell you and the other kids in your town stories about how she once fell in love with a mermaid when she was young. they’d met on the same beach you frequent and pursued their love in hiding. she’d go on and on about how he was the most beautiful person, or rather, creature she had ever laid her eyes on. how he was gorgeous and alluring—and the way his green scales sparkled in the sunlight.

you seemed to be the only one to ever believe her stories, even in the slightest. you already loved the sea, and the prospect of mermaids, real-life mermaids, inhabiting the waters you adored so much intrigued you to no end. you would stay at the shore with your grandmother after all the other kids had gone home for dinner, begging her to tell you more stories about this mysterious mermaid who held her heart.

she had said mermaids were forbidden to interact with humans, let alone be with one—but the two of them didn’t care. they had believed their love was too strong for even the wind and sea to tear apart. she spoke of how after the fishing industry became prevalent in their town, she had begun to see him less and less, until one day, he had stopped showing up at all—thus being the dull end of their story.

thinking back on her words now as you stare at the pixelated photo, things slowly begin to come together in your brain. he’s a mermaid. he has to be. there’s no other explanation.

“you’re still stuck on that? you know your grandma once told me a watermelon would grow in my stomach if i ate the seeds? i was scared for years, y/n. years! i don’t know if she’s the most reliable source—”

“this is the only thing that makes sense though,” you mumble as a pair of bright green eyes fill your thoughts.

it’s like something is calling you from deep inside your soul, something anguished and distressed—and it’s calling you back to that beach. you know answers are there. even if this all turns out to be some weird, ongoing delusion, you need to find out the truth—for your own peace of mind. (and maybe taehyun’s as well, seeing as he’s still rambling on about his fear of being pregnant with a watermelon.) 

and in all truthfulness, you want to… need to see those eyes one more time.

it’s a horrible idea. actually, it’s in your top 10 most stupid y/n moments.

sneaking onto the shore is easy enough. there’s no lifeguards on watch, or any lingering public safety employees as you step onto the sand. only a sliver of it is visible—even your usual spot is covered with water as the waves crash against the shore with untainted vigor. the rain is heavy, grimly pouring from the sky in buckets. your jacket isn’t doing enough to block it from seeping through the fabric, making your clothes cling to your skin uncomfortably. 

honestly, you pitched yourself to be smarter than this–-everything in your body, ever nerve and muscle screams at you to run around and go home. there’s no point in trying to prove something that simply doesn’t exist. they say the human body can only run on so much sleep before you start to feel out of character; and you already feel like you’re outside of your body.

it’s like you’re in a trance, under a spell as your feet keep on walking, your vision completely focused in the darkness of the night as you scan the water for anything. it feels like something inside of your body is calling for someone, the feeling profound and wretched to the point where it makes your heart heavy and raw.

that feeling tugs you like a magnet, past the public part of the beach and to a more vacant, woodsy area where trees and bushes reside, the branches hanging over and dipping into the water, leaves being whipped up by the unforgiving breeze. you’re close—you can feel it, deep inside your soul.

the waves are unrelenting as they tumble over eachother, some shallow ones hitting your ankles and splashing up your legs—and you’re too out of it, too entranced by whatever song is singing inside of your chest to watch where you’re going.

you trip over a rock hidden in the sand, falling over yourself as your already drenched form becomes soaked with ocean water, the harsh waves tumbling over you as you try to sit up. you’ve always been a great swimmer, phenomenal even, but the storm has turned the ocean into something wicked and unlawful, pulling you further and further into the water the more you struggle against it.

you’re tugged into the rip before your brain can process it, having only half the mind to call out for help—but it’s not use. the waves are too loud and the pouring rain drowns out any and every noise in the breeze. it’s too dark to see anything and you can already feel yourself tiring out as you fight to stay afloat. 

the ice cold water does wonders to sober you up from whatever hypnosis you were under and now that your mind is clear, true panic and terror sets deep into your chilled bones. you’re going to die out here, in the hands of something you have loved since you were a child. things really do come full circle, don’t they?

the full moon resting in the condensed sky is the last thing you see before you completely black out.

you feel it before you even open your eyes. a heavy, burning hand on your back and a heated finger trailing down the slope of your nose. your entire body is warm from head to toe, your cheek cushioned by a soft, cotton-like material. a captivating voice sings a gentle song in words you can’t understand, the volume just under the perpetrator’s breath—the sound is almost completely muted out by the roaring sea outside.

the roaring sea.

you inhale deeply as if you’re searching for air that’s nowhere to be found, sitting up quickly with labored breaths. your eyes automatically lock onto a figure—an all too familiar figure with worried green eyes and luminous scales and soaking wet hair that drips water onto the sand.

kai.

you fling yourself into his arms despite both of your wet clothes. his touch is grounding and comforting as you bury yourself into the crook of his neck, holding onto him tightly. he doesn’t speak as his arms hesitantly wrap around your torso, his hands smoothing down your back in silent consolation. only then do you register the thick sweater that is strewn across your shoulders—it’s the same one he had on that first day you met. 

the thought makes your eyes brim with slight guilt. he has just saved your life, even after you so rudely ran away from him. you want to apologize, but nothing comes out as you finally break away from the embrace. he won’t meet your eyes, and that fact alone makes your heart wrench.

“how did you… how did you know i…?” the words are stuck in your throat as you gape at him, trying to not let your eyes wander down his exposed clavacle where a few more shiny scales reside. kai’s pretty, pretty emeralds are sad—the kind of sad that radiates off a person and spreads to everyone nearby. your gut clenches. he’s quiet for a few beats before his hand moves to his chest.

“i… i can feel it. your fear,” he whispers, his hand resting over his heart as a visual communicator. you don’t know what to say, any words that come to mind die on your tongue just as quickly as they appear. your silence is incredibly loud as kai’s bottom lip trembles, hastily standing to his feet. your eyes follow him as he take a couple steps back, creating distance between the two of you. your body immediately goes cold, feeling a harsh shiver run up your spine, wracking your entire body.

“i am sorry,” kai mumbles solemnly, looking down at the sand below him, his hands folded tightly in front of his body. you’re still shivering despite the sweater draped across your shoulders, staring up at him as you wrap your arms around your body.

“why… why are you sorry?” you inquire, feeling your heart pang at the whine that leaves his throat. he won’t meet your eyes and you already find yourself craving to see those vibrant irises again.

“you r-rejected me as your mate. i must leave you alone now,” kai nearly whispers as he strictly keeps his eyes trained in the sand. he should be cold in his sopping clothes—this heavy wind and pouring rain outside of the small cove is enough to freeze just about anyone—but he seems completely apathetic to the weather. 

an ugly, weighted emotion rips through you at his words, mentally cursing your past self for being so rash about it all. you don’t know the implications of “rejecting” a mate, but with the way kai is weary of stepping any closer to you, you’re sure you’ve done enough damage to last a lifetime.

“kai—i’m sorry about what i said. i’m still confused, but…” you inhale deeply, watching the way his scales sparkle with the reflection of the moonlight on the water. he’s truly gorgeous. “i’m willing to listen if you want to teach me. about what all of this means… about yourself.”

you can physically see the way kai’s breath hitches, his body tensing up as he just barely lifts his head, emerald green peeking through his dark shaggy hair. kai’s eyes meet yours and you feel something akin to relief wash over you. he seems to be waiting for something as his eyes glimmer with hope and hesitancy, so you give him an affable smile, warm and inviting, before patting the spot in front of you.

kai’s scales ripple as his weary demeanor softens, quickly moving to take a seat in the sand. he mirrors your position, pulling his legs up to his chest, your feet almost touching from how close he is to you. your heart stutters a bit as he watches you, his gaze filled with so much infatuation and mesmerization, it fills your stomach with knots. 

“what would you like to know, y/n?”

the way your name rolls off of his lips, sounding oh, so elegant coated in his unnamed accent makes your head spin. his moles are placed perfectly on his unblemished skin like stars at night, his eyes shining like the moon herself. 

“i want to know what you are,” you start, speaking quietly so that only he can hear your words. kai smiles at you, his pearly fangs showing themselves once again. they aren’t so scary now—not with the way his hands are so delicate as they mindlessly draw shapes in the sand or the way his scales ripple once again as enthusiasm overtakes his body. 

“i am a mermaid. the sea is my home.”

the words would have surprised you, had he told you the very first time you two met, but now they simply settle the uneasiness in the pit of your gut. it all makes sense now. the scales, the eyes, the shells, and his fantasy-esque features… he’s a mermaid. 

you inhale deeply to collect your thoughts—the fact that this is all real is too much to take in at once. you look down at your own feet buried in the sand, shivering again at a harsh gust of wind. your heart rate picks up as kai lets out a soft sound, reaching up to adjust the sweater around your shoulders, running his hand down your arm before retracting. the touch that lingers in his fingers’ wake is incredibly warm, feeling it spread throughout your entire body. you want to feel it again.

“i… i thought mermaids aren’t supposed to be seen by humans,” you nearly question as you find his eyes. something sharp flashes through them, as stormy as the night sky above, and you feel your breath catch in your throat.

kai glances away as he thinks for a moment, his pupils shaky as the words strike him. he’s tensed up again and you begin to think you’ve said the wrong thing.

“you don’t have to tell me, kai. i’m just… i’m just glad you’re here with me right now.” your voice is incredibly gentle as you coax him to look at you again, watching the way his shoulders slowly relax at your tone. he doesn’t look at you, though—his eyes stay trained on a random rock, his fingers twitching from where they sit in the sand. he’s quiet for a bit as you two sit in a light silence, the sound of the fierce rain and the rough waves outside filling in the space around you.

it isn’t until he takes a deep breath, those emeralds on his face absolutely glimmering when they meet your eyes. there’s no smile on his face, but his eyebrows are slightly furrowed and his eyes are so incredibly sincere, you feel it pierce through your heart like a sword on fire.

“you are my mate, y/n. i will do anything for you,” kai speaks, closing his eyes for a second. “even if i had to betray m-my coven to find you… my life is for you. nothing else matters.”

his words invoke a deep stirring inside of you—the urge to reach out and caress his face, to hold onto his hand, to feel his skin—it’s untameable. it’s as if a flame is ignited inside of you as he opens his eyes, hearing your heartbeat pound incessantly in your ears, watching the way his scales flicker as they reflect the moonlight. his eyes are entirely dilated as he scans your face, the vibrant green of his irises overtaken by his dark pupils—you feel completely bare despite being fully clothed, vulnerable like a butterfly pinned to a board.

it’s only then does he move, untucking his legs to kneel on one before you—almost an exact replica of the way he had bowed to you the first time you met. he reaches his hand out to you and without a second thought, you take it, letting him pull you both to stand. his fingers are ice cold, but a warmth spreads throughout your body like wildfire, a soft gasp leaving your lips as he tugs you closer. he lifts his other hand to rest on your cheek, his eyes flitting in between yours. 

when he leans in again, you’re ready, your eyes slipping shut as he presses his forehead to yours. you can feel his breath on your lips, the sensation sending tingles down your spine. he’s silent for a moment before he whispers something in that enchanting language of his—even though you can’t understand what he’s saying, his timbre is like a lullaby, filling your head with cotton and stardust.

“i… do you feel it?” kai whispers as his nimble fingers stroke your cheek gently.

he doesn’t elaborate—he doesn’t need to, because you do. you feel the way his touch leaves a burning trail against your skin, the way his eyes pull you in like quicksand, entrancing and bewitching, and the way his voice sounds like music to your ears. you feel it all, and you’re nodding in response before you even realize it, registering the way his hand grips onto yours tighter, his breathing picking up ever so slightly. 

“it does not matter if you are human, y/n. our souls are connected… and mine has not stopped searching for yours.”

you’ve always wondered why you resonated so much with the ocean. sand is a pain to clean out of shoes, the waves can be terribly unforgiving, and the tide even stole your favorite pen once. but nothing can deter the pull you feel toward the sea���or more so, towards what resides in the sea.

your mate.

you don’t have to say anything for kai to know you finally understand, blinking your eyes open as he lifts his head. his eyes are practically glowing as they lock onto yours, his fangs peeking out as he smiles at you, his scales rippling and fluttering animatedly. 

“you are so beautiful,” he speaks through his small gleam. it’s such a cliche, but the way he says it holds so much weight, it squeezes your heart painfully. he says it like you’re a breath of fresh air, as if you’re the most captivating thing he’s ever had the pleasure of seeing with his own eyes.

the heat that crawls up your chest blooms throughout your entire body, wrapping your heart in a cozy blanket as his fingers trail down from your cheek to your jaw, tilting your head up ever so slightly. you don’t move away—and in all honesty, you have no desire to. he’s gentle in the way his hand lets go of yours, finger by finger, before moving to find a home on the small of your back. 

you’re not shivering anymore. his touch is incredibly searing, yet impossibly calming, feeling your mind go dizzy as his eyes search yours for something you aren’t quite saying. it’s almost nerve-wracking, how the suspense builds up in your chest as those emeralds flicker down to your lips, feeling your body grow hot all over. 

“will you allow me to… to k-kiss you?” kai whispers, not even the aggressive waves outside able to drown out his voice in your ears. 

there’s no doubt in your mind as a breathy “yes” slips into the air. 

he’s clumsy with the way his lips find yours, your hand coming up to his chest. his heartbeat under your palm pounds at lightening speed, his body slightly trembling as your lips move against his tranquilly. there seems to be no rush, melting into his embrace with each passing moment.

the press of his fangs against your lips only slightly stings when the tips of them dig in a little too hard, and kai is quick to soothe over the pain with a swipe of his tongue. he tastes of ocean water, a bit salty, but there’s another sweet undertone as well that you can’t quite place your finger on. you don’t linger on it for too long—you don’t want to have to use your brain, so you lose yourself in the feeling of his fingers against your spine, his thumb brushing over your jaw so delicately, you almost want to cry.

his tongue prods against yours as he presses closer to you, as if close is never close enough, as if he wants to sink into your body and become one. your mind is hazy, but you feel safe as his fingers trail down to the side of your neck, leaving fluttery, ticklish sensations in the process. he explores your mouth as if you are a cavern full of gold, mindless to the way small, needy noises leave his lips. it’s overwhelming for the both of you, engulfed in this little bubble you’ve created. 

when he pulls away, it’s slow and reluctant, leaning back in a few more times to get another taste of you, peppering kisses down your jaw and your neck. you can’t help but moan softly at the feeling that stirs in the pit of your gut as he nips and bites and sucks at your skin—completely enamored with you.

he places one final kiss under your ear before his emerald eyes meet yours—you preen at the way he looks at you like you’re the heart of the sea, the ocean herself. it’s too much and not enough at once as you tuck yourself into his broad chest, your heart beating in sync through your dampened clothes. it feels right. this—him. he feels right and now you’re certain he isn’t just a measly dream.

the sky appears to be unreal, coated with lovely hues of pink and purple, a deep orange settling near the horizon as the sun lowers itself from the sky. it’s still warm out, the tide low as you tip-toe through rocks and shells, feeling your heart fill as tiny hermit crabs take cover in the sand, holding the bottom of your flowy dress up so as to carefully watch your step. the waves wash against the shore with a subdued rhythm and the sky is void of any clouds—the calm after the storm.

your breath catches in your throat as you see the man waiting for you at the end of the shore, his black hair mussed and slightly damp. it seems as if he’s been waiting for a while—he stares off at sea, sitting just a few feet from the tide as his hand mindlessly picks up sand and lets it fall through his fingers.

he’s oh, so gorgeous, even from afar. the white button-up he adorns is rolled up to his elbows, legs covered by brown pants that flow in the wind. his trusty satchel is slung across his frame, seemingly full to the brim as it rests in the sand next to him. a contemplative look resides on his face, his head slightly tilted to the side as his mind wanders. you almost feel guilty for the thought of disturbing this quiet moment. 

but then you’re reminded that he’s waiting here for you—your stomach flutters as he turns his head, those vibrant eyes lightening up at the sight of your figure making its way toward him. he stands to his feet with the brightest smile on his prince-like face, his pretty fangs pressing into his bottom lip in the cute way they always do. 

his scales ripple as he pulls you into the tightest hug you’ve ever experienced, a serene buzz washing over you as he safely holds you to his chest. you register the feeling of him pressing small kisses onto the crown of your head and you giggle a bit at the fluttery sensation. you tilt your head up to meet his eyes; and they never fail to make your head spin, containing so much sincerity that squeezes your heart in all of the best ways. he cups your cheeks, the warmth of his fingers spreading down your neck and blossoming in your soul.

“i missed you,” you speak softly, and you mean it—nothing, no one can compare to the way kai can make you feel so loved and wanted with a singular, simple glance. you dream about his little beauty marks, his wide smile, and those iridescent scales that sparkle when the sun hits them just right. even just a few days without being near him makes your core surge with a deep longing—and now that restless feeling finally dissipates as he leans in to kiss your nose, and then your cheek, and finally your lips.

“i have missed you more,” he mumbles against your lips, his nose brushing yours as he kisses you so delicately, attentive to every little noise that leaves your lips. his hands smooth down your sides, running his fingers over the soft fabric of your dress, coming around to press against the small of your back.

when the kiss breaks, you’re rendered breathless, blinking your eyes open to find him already watching you. the faint smile on his face widens as you reach up to carefully touch the sparkling scales on his cheekbones before running your fingers through his disheveled hair. he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut with the gentle movement of your fingers. 

“how long have you been waiting?” you question as you finish adjusting his hair, resting your palm against his chest. he hums in thought before he opens his eyes—and you’re in awe at the way the setting sun manages to reflect in them, looking like specks of gold against his irises.

“not long at all. i-i made something for you last evening,” he responds almost shyly. your eyes widen in surprise, watching as he takes a tiny step back to open his satchel. his cheeks are flushed a pinkish-red once he pulls out a handmade crown, woven with dried seaweed, softwood, and the prettiest, eye-catching flowers you’ve ever seen. there are even a few tiny shells tucked in here and there, and they all sparkle the same, twinkling as the sunlight hits them.

“you made this?” your voice comes out airy, in awe at not only the gift, but also the thought of him spending time handmaking something for you. kai nods timidly, looking up at you through his eyelashes. your heart threatens to explode as he gestures toward your body.

“m-may i put it on y-you?” he asks, a slight nervousness coating his voice and you’re quick to nod, bowing your head a bit to give him better access. a quiet, enthused noise escapes his lips before he can contain it, stepping close to you again. he adjusts your hair ever so slightly before situating the crown on your head. you can’t see yourself, but you’re sure it looks amazing by the way kai’s scales flutter, his gleam almost blinding as he moves back to admire his work. the crown is light and a few of the flowers tickle the side of your face. you feel beautiful.

“you know you don’t have to keep gifting me things, right?” you softly chide with a little chuckle, but kai’s bright smile falters at your words, cocking his head in confusion with a little whine.

“do you not… do you not like m-my gifts for you?” kai’s voice slightly trembles and you’re quick to backtrack, grabbing onto his hands with both of yours.

“no, no, no, kai–-i love your gifts. it’s just… isn’t the courting stage over? you know i’m yours, right?”

kai’s eyes sparkle with admiration as you speak, letting go of your hands to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you close to his body. he’s warmer than he usually is, and you suspect it has something to do with the humid air around you—the storm has long since passed, the shore drying up quickly, leaving only fluffy sand and a quiet, sedated ocean in its wake. 

it’s a reflex now, to close your eyes as he gently rests his forehead against yours, a faint, contented hum sounding from the mermaid.

“you still deserve the entire sea and all of the stars, my beautiful mate.”

it’s horrible, the way your entire body tingles, feeling your face heat up from his words. it should be sappy and sickeningly sweet, but his voice brings you nothing but peace, letting yourself melt into his embrace as he subtly sways you both to the rhythm of the waves.

reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated!

tags! @grayscorner @banggyu0308 @huckleberrykai @agustdivne @yunhorights @quoththisraven94 @nes-caf

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[brokenwinebox]

What’s Your Character’s Theme Song?

A song breakdown for the characters of Jeremy Allen White, Lionel Boyce, Matty Matheson, and Ricky Staffieri. It will discuss the connections other people and I made for the characters Carmy, Marcus, Neil Fak, and Ted Fak.

↓ long text below

Jeremy Allen White

Jeremy Allen White, who ironically, is about to play Bruce Springsteen in the upcoming Bruce Springsteen film, said that Carmy’s theme song would be “The Ties That Bind.”

The expression 'the tie that binds' is used to describe a common idea or belief that links people together. It can also be used plurally as 'the ties that bind'. For example, you may say: ''We are family, held together by the ties that bind. Nothing will tear us apart. (x)

This is when it gets interesting. The Ties That Bind is an opening song for his fifth album called The River.

The songs on The River reveal a tension between the need for community and the need to be alone. "The Ties That Bind", along with "Two Hearts" and "Out in the Street", is one of the key songs on the album about the need for community. (x)

This feels so incredibly reminiscent on the struggles of Carmy. His driving force to fully isolate himself to those he cares about while probably also feeling like he needs the people he’s pushed away.

This also reminded me of @espumado’s post The Night Of The Hunter & The River which was then talked about by @currymanganese’s post on the potential parallels between two romantic relationships in the The Night Of The Hunter and The Bear.

There’s so many weird horror elements in the show. Which is interesting because in this picture we see a revised 2nd edition of The Exorcist! So how farfetched is it to see those elements on the show. Especially this season!

I mentioned before in my post, “Fourth Wall (being broken)” that the Save It For Later song could be about Carmy being lost and it became a reflection to the season. I can’t help but wonder if Save It For Later could have multiple meanings for each character.

@happylikeasadsong broke down some lyrics of the song and explains what it could do with Sydney’s decision.

Lionel Boyce

Lionel Boyce said Sèrgio Mendes, “Ides Of March.” for his character Marcus’ before realizing that’s probably not the name of the song. It was actually “Waters of March”

Sèrgio Mendes is most known for his song, Mas Que Nada, which translates to whatever and anyway. In this article I read, they call him a bossa nova king and Mendes explains how life is about magical encounters.

This is probably a funny coincidence but I actually know a song named Soul Bossa Nova by Quincy Jones. It was playing on a playlist that’s about songs you’d hear during magic shows. (x) (x) (x)

Although, Ides of March wasn’t the name of the song and I write metas for The Bear (AKA I’m insane), I did research on both to see what I can find!

Ides of March, day in the ancient Roman calendar that falls on March 15 and is associated with misfortune and doom. It became renowned as the date on which Roman dictator Julius Caesar was assassinated in 44 bce and was further immortalized in the tragedy Julius Caesar by English dramatist William Shakespeare.

On the topic of William Shakespeare, @currymanganese has a post on The Bear being a super deconstructed Shakespearean pastoral comedy.

It was then corrected to Waters of March. I tried to find the meaning for that particular song by Sérgio Mendes but it all lead to “Water Of March” by Antônio Carlos Jobim.

The inspiration for "Águas de março" came from Rio de Janeiro's rainiest month. March is typically marked by sudden storms with heavy rains and strong winds that cause flooding in many places around the city. The lyrics and the music have a constant downward progression much like the water torrent from those rains flowing in the gutters, which typically would carry sticks, stones, bits of glass, and almost everything and anything. Antonio Carlos Jobim wrote the song during a visit to his family rancho, in the interior of Rio de Janeiro state amid a steady rainstorm which had turned the roads and landscape to mud.

sticks and stones may break my bones, (but words can never hurt me) - said in order to show that people cannot be hurt by unpleasant things that are said to them (x)

When it comes to mud, I was immediately reminded of @whenmemorydies’s post on Claire being clear [as] mud. (Which I’ll go a bit more into depth in another post). I’m also fairly certain @ago0112 talked about it as well!

I talked about the topic of glass in my previous meta, The Glass Table & The Glass Fish Tank, where I found parallels to Claire and Donna. Those comparisons got a little confirmed in the script of (2.02).

I did some research on the scripts about Claire on (2.02) as well.

In the post, there was a bit of a deep dive on the potential meaning of glass/shattered glass and here’s one of them I found a connection to.

Connection between the fragility of glass and the human condition: Glass can be tough, but it becomes fragile when it faces too much pressure. Similarly, people can be strong, but life's challenges can make us feel a bit delicate. The broken glass helps us see that we all have both strength and vulnerability inside us, teaching us about the balance between being tough and sensitive in our own lives.

When it talked about how broken glass helps us see that we all have both strength and vulnerability inside us, teaching us about the balance between being tough and sensitive in our own lives, I was reminded of this particular thebearfx’s post:

After that, I recalled dialogue that I wrote about in my post on Richie being a fox and a caterpillar. In this scene, Natalie and Richie talk about the soul of the dining room in (3x07).

Richie: [scoffs] “Dining room sounds like shit.” Natalie: “Like, the acoustics?” Richie: “No. It’s like, the soul, you know? It’s like--Service sounds like total chaos.”  Natalie: “Every day can’t be perfect.” Richie: “Every day is like the Super Bowl. I could use a lightning bolt.” Natalie: “Can’t control the weather.”

In Waters of March, there’s a reference to a fox in a brush.

The oak when it blooms A fox in the brush A knot in the wood The song of a thrush (x)

What’s so fascinating about this particular rabbit hole is about what it all potentially means for Marcus as a character.

The song is about spring in Brazil as an allegory for life: how it continues on despite our best efforts to control it. It reminds us how with the ugly, comes the beautiful. (x)

The ugliness could be about death while the beauty of it is what the love he has for his mother could inspire for Marcus.

The plan of the house, the body in bed, the car that got stuck, it’s the mud, it’s the mud. a float, a drift, a flight, a wing, a hawk, a quail, the promise of spring.

He had become frustrated with the difficulties the rain was causing for the construction of a new boundary wall along his property line. The skies rained from above while chaos reigned below, as plainly stated in the lyrics: “It’s the mud, it’s the mud…” With plenty of time to contemplate the situation, Jobim created a modern parable for daily life. (x)

I’ll certainly talk about all of this in a separate post (whenever that will be) but there’s so many small details that evolve into a beautiful narrative.

The Coca-Cola Jingle

Coca-Cola tapped Antonio Carlos Jobim for the rights to his ‘Águas de Março’, giving new lyrics to ‘The Waters of March’ to make the jingle a worldwide sensation. Jobim even became a celebrity spokesman for Coke in a relationship that lasted for several years. (x)

Coca Cola is one of the most popular soft drinks in the world. In doing my research, I found an article talking about how design elements of the soft drink’s logo clearly portray the idea of energy, fun, and good times.

The recent 2021 hug version logo of the brand was termed as “magical” and “genius” by designers. It ended up being introduced with a new tagline as “real magic.” Apparently, it’s considered magical because you can imagine the bottle even when it is not there.

There’s even a well-known story about the white and red logo being inspired by the brand’s first advertisement that featured Santa Claus wearing his red and white suit with a bottle in his hands. (x)

@vacationship made an analysis on the green and red sauce and the potential importance of its symbolism.

Sydney and Claire have an interesting parallel with coke. I actually found that little connection earlier but didn’t know it had any relevance to this until now.

(Sydney pouring/drinking coke after the scene of the group being at Marcus’ mother’s funeral isn’t a coincidence.)

Matty Matheson

Matty Matheson chose Hakuna Matata for his character Neil Fak. The Bear’s instagram account also talked about how he is a master mocktail maker.

Hakuna matata roughly translates to “there are no troubles” in Swahili. The phrase was popularized in English by the 1994 Disney movie The Lion King, where it's translated as “no worries.” It has a connotation of not worrying about things outside a person's control. The movie popularized the phrase internationally, making it a cultural staple and synonymous with Disney's family-friendly brand.

'Hakuna matata' is Swahili for 'no worries'. As such, it is the perfect catchphrase for Timon and Pumbaa, as it perfectly reflects their relaxed, devil-may-care attitude to life. (x)

@outmakingmoonshine has discussed the possibility that the Faks are the inner voice/imaginary friends for the protagonist (Carmy).

Are they suggesting Pumbaa, Timon, and Simba are Neil Fak, Ted Fak, and Carmy?

The Lion King was released on June 15, 1994, receiving critical acclaim for its music, story, themes, and animation. With an initial worldwide gross of $763 million, it finished its theatrical run as the highest-grossing film of 1994 and the second-highest-grossing film of all time, behind Jurassic Park (1993).

Timon: Hey, where you going? Simba: Nowhere. Timon: Gee. He looks blue. Pumbaa: I'd say brownish-gold. Timon: No, no, no, no. I mean he's depressed. Pumbaa: Oh. Pumbaa: Kid, what's eatin' ya? Simba: Who cares? I can't go back. Timon: Ahh. You're an outcast! That's great; so are we! Pumbaa: What cha do, kid? Simba: Something terrible. But I don't wanna talk about it. Timon: Good. We don't wanna hear about it. Pumbaa: Come on Timon. Anything we can do? Simba: Not unless you can change the past.

Simba: Hakuna matata? Pumbaa: Yeah. It’s our motto! Simba: What’s a motto? Timon: Nothin’ what’s a motto with you?! (laughs) Pumbaa: Hakuna matata: These two words will solve all your problems. (x) (x) (x)

Carmy could have a side of him that feels outcasted by the rest of the group (there was also a group chat he had no idea about) so he conjured up another set of outcasts that promote a motto and philosophy to solve all of his problems.

Neil Fak is the naive/childlike aspects of himself that I suspect Carmy got from his childhood with his mother. I can’t help but wonder if the Faks representing Carmy’s inner voice was only applied to the dumpster scene when I found dialogue about how nice it is in the office before Carmy called Sydney nice after checking her out. Does it only apply when they’re all alone together?

As with many characters in The Lion King, Pumbaa's name derives from the East African language Swahili. In Swahili, pumbaa (v.) means "to be foolish, silly, weakminded, careless, negligent."

Richie and Carmy calls Neil Fak a bitch in (3x02)

Neil Fak: “Nat, the vibe’s weird.”

Carmy: “You’re such a fucking bitch.”

Richie: “You’re such a bitch.”

Natalie: “I know, sweetheart. Don’t be scared.”

Most of these could probably best describe Neil Fak (and even Carmy perhaps) but I wonder about the negligence of his character. Is this about the lack of real tools of his? Another detail that I’m not sure connects here is that Neil Fak mentioned being afraid of boxes to Ted Fak.

Warthogs regularly come into contact with villages and people. When this happens, they usually cause havoc, scampering through a garden or village and making a mess of everything. There is one Pumbaa adjective that is correct. They can be lazy. Rather than digging their own burrows, they will often just use the burrowed home of other animals. (x)

I remember this dialogue vividly, but there was a scene where the Faks asked Donna if they could stay over her house during Christmas.

Neil Fak: “Do you think that we can sleepover—” Donna: “There’s no sleepovers at Christmas. What the fuck?” Neil Fak: “No, we can sleepover.” Donna: “No, you can’t sleepover on Christmas. No. Mm-mmm.” Neil Fak: “No? No. Big Neil got us skateboards.” Donna: “You know what? Shut up. Michael!” Neil Fak: “Michael hid ‘em.” Donna: “Hey, Michael. Get in here. Mike? The Faks are asking me stupid things—”

(The fact that there’s a Hakuna Matata reference after Hulu is bought by Disney is also not lost on me.)

Timon is a historical Greek name, taken to mean "he who respects." Timon's name may derive from Shakespeare's tragedy Timon of Athens, another Shakespeare reference in a film which derives its plot from Hamlet. The tragedy is based in the history of the real Timon of Athens, a famous misanthrope during the era of the Peloponnesian War, who refused life in Athens to live isolated. Another explanation is that he is named after the Greek philosopher Timon, a disciple of Pyrrho, the founder of the school of skepticism. (x) (x) (x)

I happened to stumble upon another Shakespeare reference. If Timon is meant to be Ted Fak then this is going to be a bit ironic because of what Ted Fak’s theme song is!

Ricky Staffieri

Ricky Staffieri chose Back Then by Mike Jones for the theme song of his character, Ted Fak. Ironically, this song is vulgar in nature with calling woman “hoes” and all.

In the same meta I mentioned earlier, @outmakingmoonshine talked about Ted being sex driven and maybe representative of Carmy’s primal mind.

We also have @thoughtfulchaos773 having a post on the inappropriate double entendre jokes on the show.

I never really listened to the lyrics until about two months ago, but now that I have, they’re pretty amazing. On the surface, it’s a vulgar song about “hoes,” but on a deeper, more philosophical level, it’s an anthem about self-confidence. The overall message in Jones’ song is that the ladies in his life were never really gave him the time of day until he started to make it big. When you really listen to the message of the words – and not necessarily the words themselves – a lot of it is just him spewing the harsh truth. I think it speaks to all of the ugly ducklings out there, or the really shy people who never put themselves out there until they found themselves later on in life. That cute girl in middle school or high school who is now a bombshell? Yeah, she remembers how you treated her. (x)

Claire always told Carmy about their past history when they were young but Carmy seemed to have no recollection of it.

After reading this analysis on its philosophical meaning, I couldn’t help but wonder what it all meant pertaining to Ted Fak. Do we really know anything about Ted Fak’s history in high school besides Carmy? I just got a sudden wave of theories that this is referring to Carmy.

For Ted Fak, maybe this is about being treated poorly in high school. Now, he ended up working for a popular food establishment with very sudden attention from woman which had never happened before.

For Carmy, Ted Fak could be the more anxiety/primitive ridden version of him.

The reason I talk about the anxiety aspect is because some people have the personal experience of saying things they don’t mean when they have anxiety. Ted Fak could be representing the brutal ‘truths’ that Carmy could or don’t really mean.

Anxiety activates people’s fight or flight instinct When someone has an anxiety disorder, they'll often feel intense fear towards possible threats and dangers. For someone with a social anxiety disorder, this could be crowds or social events, whereas for someone with generalised anxiety disorder (GAD), their fear could be focused on a broad range of potential scenarios, such as losing their job, damaging their friendships or getting into accidents. These thoughts cause people to experience symptoms of anxiety such as an increased heartbeat, shortness of breath and nausea. This is because thinking about the possible dangers activates their fight or flight instinct. Irritability is a symptom of anxiety When a person is experiencing anxiety, they'll often be more irritable than usual. This is a common symptom of many types of anxiety disorder. (x)

The increased heartbeat caught my attention because Claire noticed his heart was beating fast in a scene before it cuts to Carmy looking at a clock in (3x04).

The other part of the song I absolutely love is: “I ain’t got no time to call her. I’ma stall her like she stalled me, now she trying to call me; (girl) I’ma dog your whole ass like you dogged me.”

I can’t lie. I laughed so hard when I saw this lyric. Like damn, I wonder who exactly this could refer to here? It could be about Kelly but I’ll have to do more digging to figure that out.

I can’t speak for everyone in the world, but I know that I have an elephant-like memory when it comes to people how people treat me – whether it was in middle school, high school, college, or recently. I’m a firm believer in that unless someone gives you a reason to treat them like dirt, you shouldn’t. I know that I don’t pay any mind to people – not just girls – who treated me like crap and are now trying to make like everything is OK. Respect is earned, not given with me; I believe people can change (to a degree), but it will take time for someone to earn my trust and respect, if violated.

This is when we get the depiction of respect and how it’s earned, not given. Does Carmy respect Claire and vise versa?

I didn’t really get the vibe that Claire was a mean person or a bully with the way she spoke about her and Carmy’s history. But what if she scrubbed the ugly parts of it?

It’s making me ponder whether Carmy felt bitter that Claire suddenly had this interest in him because he’s well known as a chef now. It’s even more bizarre because they were both in New York. Mikey told her about Carmy’s chef adventures by the time of Christmas. Why didn’t Claire reach out to him then? Did it really take Mikey passing away for her to make a move?

There was discussion between @devisrina, @thoughtfulchaos773, and I about this. This is when I had the thought that Claire might’ve started talking to Carmy to humor herself and her friends because Carmy was the loner in high school. It was after the scripts came out and we discovered Claire was originally supposed to be blonde like Carmy’s mother. There’s so many questions on whether Claire and Carmy really had a crush on each other.

The Phone Number

I’m at the early stages of what I hope will be a very successful sports reporting career, so some people have reached out for various reasons (advice, recommendation, etc.). I’m happy to try and help the people who treated me well, but I almost want to laugh at the people who treated me like dirt and are now asking for a favor, however small. Mike Jones may use more colorful language than I would have had I wrote this song, but its underlying message is essentially the Golden Rule laced with profanity: Treat others the way you would want to be treated.

Something that I thought was interesting, was that Mike Jones rapped his phone number into the song. The most obvious parallel to this is that Carmy (purposely?) gave her the wrong number when they reunited by the grocery store fridges.

They see that I'm a star, now they wanna sit in my car Now they wanna count my cheese, smoke my weed and sip my barre now They used to love to me diss me, now they rush to hug and kiss me now They tellin' all they friends when I leave how they miss me now (281) 000-000 Hit Mike Jones up on the low cause Mike Jones about to blow Befo' the ice was in my grill, before I got my major deal These hoes wouldn't give a damn if I was ill, geah (x)

Apparently, ice on grills is a thing in the cooking industry. Graham Elliott revealed in an interview that his trick for making better burgers is pressing an ice cube into the middle of the patty before grilling.

“And if you're worried about the ice cubes making your burgers cold or wet — don't! The ice melts pretty quickly so no one will even know they were there.” <- This just felt reminiscent to my theory on Claire being an illusion. (x) (x)

Chef Graham Elliot Remembers Charlie Trotter “Famed Chicago chef Charlie Trotter died on Tuesday at age 54. Graham Elliot joined Charlie Trotter’s at age 21, and worked in his kitchens for three years.”

It seems important to note that Graham Elliot had three years of experience with Charlie Trotter.

Chef, mentor, trailblazer, philosopher, artist, teacher, leader. These are the words that immediately come to mind when I think of Charlie Trotter, or CHT, as he was referred to by the team. Rarely does one encounter an individual that can both inspire and frighten you with his (almost perverse) dedication to excellence and perfection. I learned his philosophic approach to cooking, and that everything was of equal importance. That you had to be your own toughest critic. That we weren’t in the “food industry” but in the “make it happen” business. To this very day, I try to foster the same ideals in my team: That the food you put on the plate, the way you keep your knives sharp, the way you wipe down your station—all of those represent who you are as a person. (x)

@moodyeucalyptus recently tagged me in their post discussing the documentary about Charlie Trotter and the similarities with Carmy’s asshole boss. I don’t think it’s a coincidence I found this connection.

We know that Carmy was buying very expensive food ingredients/supplies and helped Claire’s mother with moving boxes. (Not to mention, he was literally moving boxes with Claire like he was doing with the Faks.)

As @outmakingmoonshine pointed out, Carmy had a problem with Richie calling Sydney sweetheart in the very first episode but didn’t really seem to care about Claire being called a piece of ass by Ted Fak. The only thing he did was clarify what he meant and that was it.

Is it possible he didn’t really flinch because these were his thoughts about her for a while and has been trying to navigate through his true feelings for her?

What really caught my eye was the smoke my weed part. Funnily enough, in season three, we see Claire and Carmy share a cigarette.

Claire: “Can you just not make this weird? Like, I need a favor. My cousin bailed on me.”

Did he feel a certain way after doing that favor for her? Which would explain why he asked her for a favor too and struggled to explain why he gave her a fake number. Carmy mentioned how he liked her alot at the party. Did he think it wasn’t anything more than what it was, exchanging favors?

Claire: “You know he, uh he told me you guys are really close and he’s your best friend.” Carmy: “Fak said that?” Claire: “Mhm.” Carmy: “No no no. Fak’s not my best friend.” Claire: “Really?” Carmy: “No no he is. He’s probably my best friend.” Claire: “That’s interesting. To sit with. For you.”

I thought Claire saying this was very strange because I couldn’t grasp whether she was saying a lighthearted joke or making fun of him.

Considering the new information thebearfx had given, did Carmy sense that? Especially when Jones talked about how they wouldn’t care if he was ill. It felt so reminiscent to Claire leaving Carmy in the fridge after he said things that were more concerning rather than hurtful.

Maybe Carmy didn’t realize the type of relationship it was until it was too late.

Thank you so much for reading!! This seems so convoluted. I made a good majority of this on August 7th. Feel free to call me insane for this rabbit hole (I’m well aware of how insane I look). There’s alot of information that I just discovered recently besides this meta but I don’t even know how to put it in the proper words. So, bear with me for a bit lmao. Fair warning, the topic of animals, gardens, plants, water, glass, and cigarettes might come back in a good majority of my metas for now. Hopefully I’ll be able to properly explain why later lol.

(c) brokenwinebox