#honestly i really miss my old copy

[familiarevil]

So last year my younger brother's ex-fiancée gained the "ex" and took my copy of Crown Duel by Sherwood Smith with her, because she was borrowing it at the time and no way am I contacting her to get it back.

And this week I finally got sad enough about not having it on my shelf to order a new copy, and it just got here, and it is so pretty, and apparently has 40+ pages of extras at the end that my old copy didn't have?

So I know what I'm (re)reading (for the nth time) and I'm taking this opportunity to recommend it, since it's one of my favorites and has been since I was a teenager.

If you're into both adventure and court intrigue, give it a shot.

[vantetaes]

BOOK WORM 🫧🥂

BOOK WORM! ARMIN X BLACK FEM READER

SUMMARY!! yn helps her friend relieve some stress.

WARNINGS!! 18+!! mentions of oral (f receiving), alcohol consumption, pet names, honestly just smut

the door creeps open slowly, revealing a figure illuminated by a laptop screen and a faulty led lamp. the faint clicking from the keyboard and sound of papers ruffling were the only sound that filled the room.

you peer around, the cluttered desk told you everything you needed to know: scattered papers, a coffee cup that looked like it hadn’t moved in hours, and a faint shadow under his eyes that screamed exhaustion.

“armin. what the hell?” walking over to the boy, gently placing your hand on his shoulder. the bag you came in being placed on the only clear spot of the desk. he leans into your touch a little, enjoying the warmth you never failed to bring, but snapping out of it quickly, rearing back up to continue typing.

“finals are in two weeks and if i don’t get my scores perfect i’ll have to hear about it for ages with my lawyer brother, attorney sister, my supreme court justice father, and my doctor mother.” he never once stopped typing. bending down to your knees, he gives you a small glance before reaching for a stack of crumbled pages, shuffling the sheets in confusion.

“i know it’s arou- ah! okay good.” he picks up a half ripped sheet, copying down the data from the sheet onto his laptop. lips in a tight line, you stand back up, digging through the tan tote bag. a small case of flavored beer and a couple of shooters make their way onto the desk. he looks over at the spread, immediately shaking his head.

“hell no, yn! are you crazy? i have class in the morning.” you throw you hands up in defeat.

“can we make a deal ‘minnie?” he ignores you, still typing. fed up, you finally unzip your jacket, tossing it on the extra chair. throwing one of your legs around the boy, he rears his hands up , scared to touch you. you’re straddling him, pushing the blonde locks out of his face, tucking a few of the longer pieces behind his ear. his ice blue eyes stare up at you in confusion.

“what are you doing, yn?”

“drink one beer with me. not! while doing homework. just enjoy a full beer and maybe a shooter and i’ll leave you alone afterwards! swear.” holding your pinky out to the male, he bites the insides of his cheek, thinking really hard about your opposition.

“just one?” waving your pink acrylic back and forth between your bodies, he finally latches on with his.

-

PARTYNEXTDOOR plays in the background, filling the void of quiet. the entire six pack was now just one. the one you and armin were currently sharing. he takes a swig from it, grabbing your chin with his thumb and index finger, he places the bottle to your lips. his blue eyes stare as you gulp down the last of the liquid catches you off guard, causing you to cough up a little, accidentally getting it on his white shirt.

“oh shit. im sorry.” you try to wipe it off with your sleeve. he just laughs, moving your arm a little.

“it’s okay. i’ll change.” he moves from his position on the bed, hand gripping the shirt from behind his head, pulling it over, stripping himself of the shirt. you couldn’t help but notice the way his back was sculpted.

since when does he work out? is that a tattoo?

“i didn’t know you had a tat, minnie.” slurring, he turns around to look at you sprawled out on his bed. your body waved hair sprawled out everywhere, sweater falling off your shoulders and shorts riding up your thighs.

he knows, you’re only his friend and he had no chance with you. hell, your ex is onyankopon. what could armin give up that he wasn��t? but shit, the way he thinks about you. the way his eyes can’t help but to feast on your appearance when you’re near him. he wanted to ruin you. to cherish you. to make you his.

“yeah it was an old friends idea. he passed not too long ago. still miss the kid.” he just hangs his head before going back to look for another shirt.

“come here.” you say assertively. armin turns around, the front looking just as good as his back.

he drunkenly waddles back to the bed, climbing back into his original spot. your finger traces over the abstract tattoo, inspecting it closely.

it was a sigilism tattoo that started below his ribs and extended up his left pec, to his bicep.

your other hand rested on his abdomen, laying up against the man.

“how long did it take?” you quiz.

“it was honestly two full sessions since im a pussy. so about five hours a session.” he laughs, face turning a little red.

“i think it’s so cool.” you say still studying the ink. look over at the man you see his eyes directly on you, then a quick glance down at your lips.

“i think you’re cool.” you say, feeling his body inch closer, gradually changing your position. his hands wrap around your waist, slowly shifting him under you. eyes never breaking contact.

“i think you’re-“ he leans down, eye to eye with you. his lips plant down firmly on yours. moving in sync, you could feel him relax into it, tongue occasionally swiping across your bottom lip. you’d never been this close to him. he smelled like coconut and dior cologne, hair dangling above your face.

“what about onyankopon?” pulling away from the heated kiss, he asks, worry filling his eyes.

“mm- what about him?”

“right. if you want me to stop, let me know pleas-“ throwing your arms around his neck, you pull him back down. his lips were so soft. his breath tasted like fresh peppermint, completely baffling you since you both just drank alcohol. he was intoxicating.

moving your lips in unison, there’s no rush, no urgency—just the gradual deepening of the kiss. the way his lips part slightly against yours, inviting more. his fingers slide gently along your jaw, tilting your face toward his, eager.

he forces himself to break away, whining at the loss. his lips move to your neck, hands wondering every inch of your body, trying to stimulate you every way he can. sucking and leaving marks all over your collarbone, he finds himself helping you remove your sweater. revealing a pink lace bralette.

“fuck, everything about you is so beautiful.” you whine, tugging at his sweatpants knot.

“well get there princess, lust let me make you feel good please. it’s the only thing i’ve wanted to do. let me eat you.” you could damn near see the fire that burned behind his eyes. his large hands slip under your bra, gently massaging them, using his index and thumb to roll your nipples in between. a gasp escapes your lips.

“armin- fuck.” he gets impatient, lifting your bra up to your chest, mouth immediately attaching to the swollen bud. your mouth forms a small ‘o’ shape, gripping at the man’s golden locs.

he leaves them both a few kisses before peppering your stomach with a few kisses.

staring down at the man, you see him kissing at the inside of your thighs, humming after every kiss. he finally gets impatient, gripping the shorts by the waistband, yanking them off your body. you giggle, being tugged a little.

wasting no time, he pins your legs back to the bed and starts eating you like he’s starving. his tongue dragging back and forth over your clit, saliva and spit mixing to create a glisten on the man’s face. his lips attach to your swollen clit, sucking soft while he reaches up to play with your matching swollen nipples, sliding his hands all over your exposed body.

“oh armin please!” you could feel him getting hungrier by the minute, his grip on your legs getting tighter as he rubs his tongue up and down your pussy. he stuffed two long thick fingers into your cunt scissoring them, ultimately touching your g-spot. you tried moving, your body tingling, but armin was so drunk from you, he couldn’t tell. his finger hooked into you, slowly stroking the spot, his tongue still abusing your nub. you were seeing stars at this point.

“fuck- minnie im gonna cum!” without fail, you released all over the man’s hand, fluid shooting out of your throbbing cunt, all over his face.

but he didn’t stop. his tongue continued its dance around on you.

“fuck me, i can’t take anymore, please armin.”

without saying anything, he pulls you closer by the waist. coming out of his sweatpants, his hand pumps a few times while he reaches in his side desk to grab a condom.

you also never knew how big he was. you stare at his length as he hovers over you, a little confused.

“where was that at?” you point, he laughs, pushing your legs apart again. looking down, a string of saliva falls right onto your slick, mixing in with the rest.

“was savin him for you, baby.” the tip slides in with ease, armins head throws back, already in love with the way you were sucking him in.

“give me all of it, please.” hips bucking up, trying to get the entire length into your throbbing core. his hands dig into your hips, pressing your down into the mattress, slowly sliding fully into you.

nails on his back, you let out the most nasty moan.

“shit, you feel so good squeezing around me.” pulling out, his body shakes a little, unable to control his whiny moans.

he keeps his strokes gentle and paced, still holding your body deep into the bed. hands pressed to the back of your thighs, he pushes down more, spreading yourself open to take more of him.

his throbbing cock continues slow and teasing, building a fire in the pit of your stomach. pulling your legs together, feet towards his face, his mouth kisses your pedicured toes.

the paces quickens, causing your body to forcefully move up and down. he snakes his arms around your legs, locking them in place with a bear hug, still pounding against you.

“armin! im cumming againn-” before you could catch yourself, you’re squirting all over his dick. he laughs at you, removing his arm, using one of his hands to play with your clit.

“ feel so fucking good. i don’t wanna stop fucking you. please, give me one more.”

he didn’t care that he hadn’t finished, all he wanted was you and all he could give you.

his pace slows down, the look on his face in pure bliss. your hands come up, caressing his face, tears brimming your eyes. the words wouldn’t even form.

“i want it baby, please cum with me.” your voice broken and low, his body lowers, connecting with yours and he slides his arms under your body, slowing down to a good pace. the unforgettable feeling of that tight coil in your stomach shows again as his cock digs at your spot relentlessly.

“im gonna cum, fuck-“

“me too, give it to me, ‘min!” your bodies clash against each others, sweat collecting on your chests, finally reaching the climax. his hips slow down, trying to catch his breath. pulling out, you both groan.

“i hope you know im not letting you fuck anybody else.” he saying rolling over, fixing your hair. your head falls over in direction.

“you too baby.”

with a few more laughs, he stands from the bed, trashing the condom before walking to you. his large arms scoop you up into a cradle.

“let’s get you in the shower.”

© vantetaes. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. ageless/blank blogs dni.

[delilahsturniolo]

— ୨୧ wildflower . . . m.s

in which . . . matt takes care of his drunk ex girlfriend at a party, not expecting you to confess feelings you shouldn’t have.

warnings . . . unresolved angst, mentions of a break up, alcohol mentions, honestly really sad.

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

matt had never expected to see you again, especially not like this.

the bass of the music pulsed through the floor as he made his way through the crowd of intoxicated strangers. matt wasn’t even sure why he had come. maybe out of obligation to his friends, the feeling of being left out, or maybe because deep down, he still searched for you in every room he walked into. matt told himself he was over you. It had been six months since you both ended things. six months of forced smiles, of avoiding old songs that reminded him of the way you used to hum along, of ignoring the aching loneliness that crept into his chest when he least expected it.

and then, just as he turned the corner—he saw you.

you were slumped on a couch in the corner of the crowded living room that flashed with colorful lights, a half-empty red plastic cup dangling lazily from your hand. your hair, which was perfect a few moments ago—was now a disheveled mess, your makeup was also smudged unintentionally. you were laughing with a guy, a guy you didn’t even know, a guy you met 10 minutes ago. and that pissed matt off.

the random teenage boy giggled at whatever drunken nonsense slipped out of your mouth, but when matt looked into your glassy eyes—he saw nothing but sadness, and hurt. it was absolutely breaking his heart to see you in this state, something twisted in his gut, you never ever drank like this, at least the old y/n wouldn’t.

without thinking, matt stepped forward, brushing past people until he reached you. he stepped in front of the guy you were talking to, not giving the slightest fuck that he interrupted your conversation with him. how could that boy just—stand there and let you do this to yourself? matt leaned down, delicately tapping your cheek and placing that same hand on your shoulder afterward. “y/n.” he spoke.

you slowly lifted your head, squinting at him as if he was a mirage or hallucination of some sort, your mind was foggy. your lips parted, “matt?” you slurred. matt swallowed thickly. “yeah, it’s me.” he reassured. your face crumpled, and for a moment—he thought you were going to cry. instead, you let out a breathless laugh and reached for his face, your fingers clumsily grazing matt’s jaw. “i misssseddd youuu, i knew you’d be hereee!” you laughed stupidly, slurring your words. matt frowned, noticing how you were barely able to sit upright. he touched your arm, rubbing it soothingly, suddenly you felt a familiar sensation of warmth and comfort again, even when you were drunk. “come on, let’s get you some water.”

you immediately pouted at him. “nooo, i like it here! ‘cause you’re here!” matt ignored the way your words sent a sharp pang through his chest, he crouched beside you. “you’re drunk, love.” he cursed himself in his head for letting that familiar name slip out, he was just so used to calling you that. “so what? it’s fun when i’m drunk!” you giggled, swaying slightly.

“no, y/n. you’re hurting. you’re coping with alcohol.” matt spoke, his voice breaking slightly. for a second, something flickered in your eyes—like a moment of clarity cutting through the haze. but then, you let out a dramatic sigh, letting your head fall against matt’s shoulder. “i miss you.” you whispered weakly. matt’s breath caught. he should have let it slide, brushed it off as drunk talk. but the way you said it—like it was something you had been holding in for so long, something too painful to admit sober, made it absolutely impossible to ignore. “y/n…” matt hesitated.

you lifted your head, your expression hazy yet heartbreakingly sincere. “do you ever think about us?” you murmured. all the time, he wanted to say. every damn day. he thought about you so much it killed him, you were the only thing that consumed his thoughts, and his heart. but instead of responding to your drunken question, he looked away. “let’s get you home, yeah?”

you whined in protest but didn’t resist as he helped you up. you were very unsteady, leaning heavily against him as the two of you navigated through the party. people stared, some whispering, but matt didn’t care at the slightest. all that mattered was getting you out of there safely. the cold night air hit you guys as he led you outside. you shivered, and without thinking, matt shrugged off his hoodie and draped it over your shoulders instinctively. you blinked up at him, eyes wide, like he had just done something earth-shattering.

“thank you for taking care of me, you always do.” you said. matt looked away, “old habits.” he shrugged. you reached for his hand, your fingers lacing through his. it was instinctual, natural, like muscle memory. and gosh, he wanted to pull away. he wanted to tell you that this—whatever this was, wasn’t fair. but you looked at him with so much raw vulnerability that he couldn’t bring himself to move.

“i still love you,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. his heart stopped upon hearing this. “every single day,” you continued. “and it sucks. it really, really sucks, because i see you everywhere. i hear your stupid favorite songs in coffee shops, and i still order your dumb vanilla lattes because they remind me of you. and i know i messed up, but, i don’t know how to stop loving you.” matt clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay still, to not let his emotions take control. “you’re drunk, y/n. you don’t mean that shit.”

you let out a humorless, dry laugh. “drunk words are sober thoughts, right?” more like—drunk words, sober heart. matt closed his eyes. he wanted to believe that you were just saying these things because of the alcohol, but deep down, he knew better than that. and you were right, these were things you were truly feeling.

you were hurting. just like he was.

and for a brief, fleeting moment, he considered telling you the truth—that he still loved you too, that he had spent every night wondering if you missed him even half as much as he missed you. that maybe, just maybe, you guys could find your way back to each other. but then he remembered why the both of you broke up in the first place. the late-night fights. the misunderstandings. the way you guys tore each other apart even when you swore you both wouldn’t. so instead, he exhaled shakily and forced himself to say, “you just need to sleep this off.”

a tear slipped down your cheek, but you nodded. “okay..” your voice broke. matt’s gaze softened as he wiped your tears, feeling a pang of sympathy and guilt within him. he helped you into the passenger seat of his car, buckled you in, and drove in silence. every now and then, he’d glance at you, at the girl he once called his forever, and silently wondered in solemn if love alone had ever been enough.

when matt finally reached your apartment, he walked you to your door, making sure you got inside safely. you turned to him, looking heartbreakingly sad in his oversized hoodie. “will i remember this in the morning?” you asked softly. he forced a small smile. “i don’t know.” you hesitated, then whispered, “would you…want me to?” matt swallowed the lump in his throat. every part of him screamed to say yes, clawing at his brain to just grab you and kiss you tightly, break down in tears and apologize for everything.

but he knew better.

“goodnight, y/n. get some sleep for me okay?”

and with that, matt turned and walked away—leaving behind the only girl he had ever loved, even when it broke him to do so. some people weren’t meant to stay.

just like wildflowers, they were beautiful, but they didn’t last forever.

© delilahsturniolo do not copy, re use, or modify any of my works.

taglist

[miimo96]

This picture PERFECTLY represents the feelings I have towards My hero and vigilantes, ESPECIALLY when it comes down to their characters because it just shows how inconsistent Deku is as a character in terms of representation and characterization, like if Knuckle duster is supposed to be a representation of Batman, All might a representation of Superman and Koichi/ the Crawler a representation of Spider-Man, then wtf exactly is deku is supposed to be? Like I feel like in the beginning he was kinda supposed to be a representation of batman with him despite not having powers, was still able to be a hero, or ya could say he was kinda a representation of Spider-Man with him being an underdog in a story where other than maybe a few close friends or family, No one really believes in him or thinks he's worthy of the power he holds, or ya could even say he represents superman by being the next symbol of peace and being able to have multiple EFFING powers.

I feel like Deku's character never really gets a chance to establish itself because he's always just effing flip flopping between characterization and personality traits, in my opinion I feel like they had a really good thing going back then when he was just supposed to be the "Nerd" who loved and studied superheros while also secretly having a Dark side to him by having him kinda have anger issues and having him copying his old bully and idol's personality during a fight, seeing him get psyched up like that ALWAYS brought chills to me and I honestly wish we could've seen more of it especially during future fights like him vs shiggy during the 1st war, him vs muscular in a full on round 2 and him vs AFO /shiggy during the final war, Idk maybe im just missing the point but lemme know what you guys think?

[taetebebe]

NAMES

Pairing: Sunoo x afab!reader

Synopsis: Two strangers, a mailbox mistake, never sharing names - only thoughts, confessions, and quiet longings.

Word Count: 2.1k

Author note: Something different. I would love some feedback pls!

Enhypen Bookshelf [[]

Letter One: 

Dear Whoever You Are,

I’m not even sure this will reach anyone. Honestly, I meant to send this to my landlord to ask, no, beg him to fix the leaky ceiling above my bed before I drown in my sleep. But when I sealed the envelope, I realized I copied the address wrong. Again.

I was going to toss this in the bin, but then I thought… maybe a stranger could use a little story. Or maybe you’ll laugh at how dramatic I sound. Maybe you won’t read this at all. That’s fine too. But on the off chance you do - hi.

I don’t usually write to strangers. Or talk to them. Or let them see the messy parts of my life. Or much of it really. But maybe that’s what makes this safe. There’s no context, no pressure, no expectations.

Just… ink on a page.

The ceiling still leaks, by the way.

Sincerely, Not Your Landlord :(

𖤐 

Letter Two:

Dear Not My Landlord,

You had me at “drown in my sleep.”

Your letter arrived in a pile of boring bills and takeaway flyers, and I almost missed it. But something about the handwriting made me open it. Not neat, not messy - just… a person.

I don’t know your name, or why I feel like I should reply, but here I am. Writing on the back of a bookstore receipt because I ran out of paper. I’d say I’m not usually this impulsive, but that would be a lie.

There’s a coffee ring on the corner of your envelope, like you hesitated before dropping it in. 

For what it’s worth, I hope your ceiling stops trying to murder you.

Sincerely,

 The Stranger at 4B

𖤐 

Letter Three: 

Dear Stranger at 4B,

It’s probably against every good decision I’ve ever made to keep this going, but something about your reply felt like a window cracked open in a stuffy room.

I’m not sure why you replied, and I’m not going to ask. But I will ask this: 

If you had to write something, anything, just for the sake of writing it, what would it be about?

Tell me about the book. I want to know what kind of stories find you.

My ceiling is still leaking, by the way. I’ve named the drip. His name is Harold. He’s punctual, if nothing else.

Still nameless,

 Harold’s Roomate

𖤐 

Letter Four: 

Dear Harold’s Roomate,

Funny you should ask about the book. It’s an old edition of The Secret Garden, the kind with pages that smell like attic corners and warm dust. I didn’t mean to buy it, I was looking for something else. But it practically fell into my hands.

Inside the front cover, someone had written “Return to her when the gate is open.” No name. No context. That kind of thing stays with you.

I read the first chapter sitting on the windowsill. I forgot how much I missed silence, not the lonely kind, but the kind that lets a sentence echo for a while before you move on.

I don’t think I realised how noisy I’ve been until I started reading your letters.

Harold sounds like he keeps you company. Let me know if he starts talking back.

Still just me,

 The Stranger at 4B

𖤐

Letter Five:

Dear Stranger,

That note in your book - it’s haunting, in a lovely way. “Return to her when the gate is open.” Sounds like something from a dream.

I keep imagining who “her” is. A girl who planted something and waited. Someone who left and promised to come back. A woman who locked the garden because the person she built it for never came.

Sometimes I do that, get lost in stories that don’t belong to me. Maybe that’s why writing to you feels so easy. I don’t have to be the version of myself everyone else knows or expects.

I’m writing this on my kitchen floor. There’s a towel catching Harold’s rhythm, but I can still hear him. I wonder if you’d find that annoying or poetic.

Your windowsill. I imagine ivy curling around the edge. Or maybe pigeons. Or a terrible view made better because you sit by it.

~ Still Nameless

P.S. I might have accidentally sent my actual rent check to your address this time. If you get it, buy yourself a croissant.

𖤐

Letter Six:

Dear Still Nameless,

I do have pigeons. And a view - though “view” is generous. It’s mostly bricks and fire escapes and a crooked chimney that leans like it’s tired of holding itself up.

But it’s mine, I guess. I sit there when the world feels too sharp. Sometimes I read. Sometimes I stare at the chipped paint on the sill and wonder who lived here before me, and whether they sat here too, thinking everything felt impossible.

Your letter made me pause today. I read it slowly. Twice.

I like how you think in stories. I do too.

And I like that you haven’t asked who I am yet. No name, no expectations. Just this.

If Harold ever drowns you, I’ll steal that towel and bury it with full honors.

With bricks and birds, The Stranger at 4B

𖤐

Letter Seven:

Dear Stranger,

I’ve started looking forward to your handwriting. It’s uneven in places, like you don’t always know what you’re going to say until the words spill out. That makes two of us.

You said this view is yours, even though it’s made of crooked things and pigeons. I admire that. Most people only claim what’s beautiful.

There’s something comforting in the fact that we’re just… here. Two people orbiting the same city, writing like it matters.

I won’t ask your name. I won’t ask what you look like, or what you do, or why you write back. Not now.

But I will ask: What would you say to yourself five years ago?

~ Your Unknown

𖤐

Letter Eight: 

Dear Unknown,

Five years ago, I thought the worst thing that could happen was being left behind.

I was wrong. The worst thing was realizing I’d been standing still, waiting for someone who never said they’d come back. And that I was the one who left parts of myself behind, every time I stayed quiet when I wanted to scream.

So what would I say to that version of me?

I’d say: It’s okay to want something soft. It’s okay to leave before someone else does. And it’s okay to begin again, even if all you have is a brick wall, a tired chimney, and a stranger who writes back.

Your turn. If that’s not too much to ask.

With care, Your Stranger

𖤐

Letter Nine:

Dear Stranger Of Mine,

Your letter stayed in my jacket pocket all day. I kept rereading one line: “It’s okay to want something soft.” I didn’t realise I needed permission.

Five years ago, I would’ve told myself to stop apologising for being quiet. To stop letting people measure my worth by how much space I took up. I was always the easy one. The one who didn’t ask for more.

But even easy people break.

This, writing to you, feels like breathing without trying too hard. I didn’t know it could be like this.

I’m still not ready to sign a name. But this time, I’ll draw you something instead.

 (Taped to the letter is a small pencil sketch: two pigeons sitting side by side on a slanted chimney, beneath a crooked moon.)

Until next time, Your Nameless One

𖤐

Letter Ten:

Dear Pigeon Artist,

I taped your drawing above the sill. They make the chimney look less tired. Or maybe just less alone.

I used to think connection came with pressure. Like love only counted if it made your heart race or your bones ache. But I think this, the soft unfolding of it—feels more real than anything that’s ever left me breathless.

I’m not asking your name. Not yet. But if you ever feel ready, I won’t run.

Do you ever imagine us passing each other on the street? I do. I think we already have.

From the window with a view, Still Your Stranger

𖤐

Letter Eleven: 

Dear You,

I almost signed my name this time. Almost.

But instead I’ll say this: You remind me what trust feels like. Not the loud kind. The kind you build by accident, through folded paper and pigeons and the drip of Harold on the kitchen floor.

I used to believe people left eventually. That no matter how warm they were, they’d cool, drift, disappear.

But here you are. Still writing. Still choosing this.

So I’m choosing it too.

Same hands. Same heart. Still nameless (but not for long)

𖤐

Letter Twelve: 

Dear My Nameless,

It rained last night. The kind that taps the window like it’s trying to be let in. I stayed by the sill and thought about you.

Not your face. Not your voice. Just… you. The way you see the world. The way you pause before asking questions. The way you said “easy people break.” I haven’t stopped thinking about that.

If you ever stopped writing, I’d let you go. But I’d reread every letter until the paper gave out.

There’s no pressure. No expectation. But I think I’d recognize your silence now, too.

~ The Stranger You Keep Choosing

𖤐

Letter Thirteen: 

Dear Choice,

Sometimes I think about what it would be like to knock on your door. Not to say anything. Just to know if I was right - if I’d feel it, standing there.

But I think this, right here, is a door too. One we’ve both opened. Carefully. Consistently.

So I’m not knocking. Not yet.

But I will tell you something I’ve never written to anyone else.

When I was ten, I mailed myself a letter and waited three weeks for it to arrive. I signed it “Love, Someone You Haven’t Met Yet.”

I think I was always waiting for a reply.

Turns out, I just had the wrong address.

Still yours, Still not signed

𖤐

Letter Fourteen: 

Dear Someone I’ve Almost Met,

I’ve read your letters more times than I can admit. They live in a shoebox beneath my bed now. Next to a flashlight, a scarf I never wear, and a polaroid of my parents holding hands at a train station.

This isn’t a confession. It’s a thanks. For showing up. For staying.

I’m still afraid of names. Because names change things.

But I also think… names anchor things.

When you’re ready, I’ll be here. Window open. Gate unlocked.

With every brick and bird, Your Wrong Address

𖤐

Letter Fifteen:

Dear You,

I do need you to know this: Every time I write to you, it feels like planting something and knowing it will grow.

I think you’ve changed how I see the world.

Yours, The Gate

Letter Sixteen: 

Dear Her,

The gate is open.

I walked past your building yesterday. I didn’t mean to. I just… did. I didn’t knock. I didn’t leave anything behind. But I looked up and wondered if you were sitting there, by the pigeons, with your name still tucked behind your teeth.

So here. Let me go first.

My name is Sunoo.

I don’t know what happens next. But I hope it still includes pigeons. And Harold. And letters, even when we no longer need paper to speak.

Yours Finally, Sunoo

𖤐

Letter Seventeen: 

Dear Sunoo,

You were right. The mailbox wasn’t a mistake.

And neither were you.

Here’s to gardens reopening, and stories we didn’t know we were brave enough to write.

You can knock now, if you want. Or keep writing. I’ll answer either way.

With all my softness,   YN

𖤐

One Last Letter (Unsent):

Dear Sunoo,

I haven’t written to you in weeks. Not because I’ve had nothing to say, but because so much of what I want to say can now be said out loud.

You were always just beyond the page. A flicker in the corner of a sentence. A warmth folded into the crease of an envelope. But now, you’re here - in the chair across from mine, in the space beside me on the train, in the way I reach for two mugs instead of one.

Sometimes I reread your first letter. You called my handwriting a person, human. I didn’t understand it then. I think I do now.

You made me feel like I was allowed to be soft and real and unfinished.

There are still pigeons on the fire escape. The bricks are still crooked. Harold retired once the landlord finally fixed the ceiling. But the window still opens. The gate is still unlocked.

And I’m still choosing this - choosing you. Not with mystery or metaphor. But with certainty.

This letter? I won’t send it.

You’re already home.

Love, Me

𖤐

© taetebebe 2025

[elexuscal]

Want to be a better writer? Read

Read Widely

An oft-repeated bit of advice for writers is "you gotta read". That said, I pretty often see people confused about what this means-- or arguing about a narrow set of what "counts" as reading for that advice.

This is my attempt to wrangle with my own perspective on how to execute on that advice, according to my own attempts over the last few years to live up to that. (And indeed, while this is primarily aimed at fiction writers, this'll probably be broadly applicable to writers across a wide variety of genres, formats, and even mediums. just move things a little to the left if they don't apply)

If you want to get better at writing, what should you read? More or less, everything. But to give some guidelines:

1. Read Widely Within Your Genre

Genres are more or less conversations composed of stories. They are built upon break out hits, popular tropes, emerging trends, current concerns, stylistic flourishes. You can't be part of the conversation if you don't know what's already been discussed. You don't want to bumble your way into a genre you barely know, talk a big game about "revolutionizing it", and end up writing a trite replication of a 50-year-old pillar of the genre.

2. Read Widely OUTSIDE Your Genre

At their best, genres are conversations. At their worst, they are the bland copying of other peoples' homework. You need to bring new conversational partners in (or, to mix metaphors, new DNA) to keep things fresh. I'm a spec fic person first and foremost, but I make sure I mix that diet up with other genres, from "literary" fiction, mysteries, romance, etc, because they'll teach you the elements your own preferred genre(s) might be missing.

3. Read Non-Fiction

Non-fiction are stories too, just stories about true facts. (Some of those stories are truer than others; some are more convincing; the two aren't necessarily the same). Learning how those narratives are built is vital. Not to mention, the information itself can inspire you— real life science, history, sociology, economics, etc, are fertile beds for world-building, characterization, and plot.

4. Read From Other Backgrounds and Cultures Besides Your Own

I'm hardly the first person to say that the publishing industry, like so many industries, primarily elevates certain voices— white, western, male, often privileged— over others. This is gonna give you a bit of a narrow perspective of how the world works. It is also likely to give you a narrow perspective of how stories are constructed. There are a LOT of pieces of writing advice that's treated like universal (the Three Act structure, the Hero's Journey, etc) that are really just extremely common in Western literature, and looking at pieces from outside it will expand your ideas of how to create stories.

5. Read From Other Time Periods

Honestly, this is sort of just a different take on the last one ('The Past Is A Different Country', or so they say), but it's different enough that I want to clarify it. Tropes and trends and story convention change over time. Read stories from 50 years ago; 200; 500; 2000. Plays, fairy tales, ballads, poems. Seriously, ancient mythological epics are SO cool to read because you truly feel connected to a storytelling tradition stretching back generations.

6. Read Books for Kids and Youth

The best kids books have stunning clarity of purpose. They have to be REALLY good at communicating their information. Learn from that.

7. Consume Other Mediums

I wish we had a better word for this, because 'consumption' does bring to mind someone just ploughing through food endlessly without thought or discernment, but we don't have another word for the breadth of ways we enjoy media. Watch television and movies and short films (and consider how those formats differ). Listen to podcasts and radio plays. Watch stage plays. Read the scripts of all the above. Read comics and graphic novels. Play video games. Watch the news. Listen to music. Go to art museums and galleries of all stripes. All of these have different strengths and weaknesses, different pacing, different styles. Learn from them.

8. Pay Attention to the Media You Might Not Even Think About As Media

Yes, we're taking the last one even further. I'm talking about the media often overlooked, either because it's often denigrated by society, or because frankly, it just blends in the background. In the first category, that's stuff like reality TV and social media posts and graffiti. In the second we have things like Facebook Marketplace posts or the backs of cereal boxes or the technical manual for your new air conditioner. (Advertisements live somewhere in the Venn diagram overlap between the two.) These all also have their own structure, styles, and merits.

9. Read Bad (and Simply Mediocre) Media

Recommendation lists will usually be filled with examples of good stories, because, well, they're good. But if you're reading in part to learn how to write, there's a lot to be gleamed by pieces that just... miss the mark. Whether it's clocks or cars or electronics, when things break you can gleam insights into how they're supposed to work; much is the same with the not-so-great media.

10. Read Indie Stuff

Pretty much every medium's industry has formal publishers who help distribute art, and in theory, vet for quality. They are, broadly, successful at that... but as I've discussed before, those same publishers can often act as gatekeepers, with an overly narrow view of what counts as "quality". Across mediums, the indie space is often where you'll find the most unique, experimental, and boundary-pushing art. It can be harder to navigate, but oh, is it worth it.

11. Read Fanfic

I'm sharing this on Tumblr, so I suspect I'm mostly preaching to the choir here, but nonetheless. In addition to the aforementioned benefits of indie media, fanfiction is capable of teaching you how to write transformative works. I'd argue transformative works have always been the bedrock of human storytelling, and that has not changed at all in the modern day. Mainstream media is choc-a-block with remakes, reboots, and adaptations, most of it bad. Why? Because they don't know what makes for a good transformative work. So open up AO3, my children, and read!

12. Read Other Writers' Thoughts About The Writing Process

Well, since you've gotten to the twelfth point, you've succeeded there.

Okay, but seriously, I put this so low on the list because I do think it can sometimes be overstated; it is very easy to get lost in the weeds of theory over simply just writing. But it is good to process and reflect on all the things you've been reading, and this is a good way to do so.

And above all else, as you explore the wide wealth of pieces people throughout time and cultures have created, to paraphrase my friend Artemis: be curious about it. Curiosity is where the cool things happen.

[golbrocklovely]

soulmates? // sam golbach

A/N: here's my first fic of 13 nights!! i've had this idea for so long, and i'm happy to finally make it into a fic. i really love a good enemies to lovers, and if you do, hopefully you'll like this one. let me know what you think and please enjoy !

prompt: fans knew you and sam bickered a lot, but what they didn't know is how much you truly hated one another. you decide to prank sam with a fake tarot reading, but end up finding out secrets about him and yourself. || sam golbach x fem!reader

trigger warning: angst, name calling, enemies-to-lovers, tarot/physic, cursing, semi fluffy ending?

word count: 3429

~~~~~~~~~~

I waved at the camera, beginning my intro, "Hey yall, welcome back to my channel. Today, I'm gonna be pulling a little prank on Sam with the help of someone very special."

"Hi guys!" Colby grinned.

"Thank you so much for being on my channel today, Colby." I glanced over at him, copying his smile.

He nodded, "Of course. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"So today, I decided I'm gonna prank Sam, in a very unusual way." I stared mischievously into the camera, "I hired a psychic and she's gonna read our futures. That's what Sam thinks this video is gonna be about. But the catch is that she's gonna make it seem like me and Sam are destined to be together."

Colby chuckled, "Oh my God, that sounds so funny."

"I hope she goes all out. I'm talking 'you two are soulmates, you need to get together now', things like that. Just to really nail home that we are supposed to be together." And as you guys know, especially if you've watched me before, me and Sam don't exactly always get along.

“You guys do fight like an old married couple though.” He snickered.

“Of course you would know that feeling, Colby. You guys are basically already married.” I sassed.

"He really is my husband. But I’ll gladly share him with you.” He teased.

I playfully swatted at him, "Anyway, I wonder what Sam's reaction is gonna be to all of this."

"Fingers crossed he runs out of the psychic's place screaming bloody murder." Colby joked.

"Jesus, that would be dramatic." I mumbled more to myself than the camera, "I'm not that terrible."

"I don't think that way, but you know Sam does." He mentioned.

I lowered the camera, glaring at him for a second. "Colby, I can't keep that in the video."

“Well, cut those parts out." He suggested.

"Fine." I cleared my throat, pulling the camera back up, "Wow, that would be kinda crazy to see. Alright, now we wait for Sam to come, and I'll catch you guys up when he gets here."

"Do you honestly think this is a good idea?" Colby questioned, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Oh, it's probably a horrible idea. And Sam is gonna be deeply annoyed with me for a while, since we all swore off pranks. But I don't care. Last week he pissed me off at Sarah's party and this is his pay back." I huffed.

"I wonder how he's gonna actually react to this. He's never had his love reading done before." He stated, looking at the cars passing by.

I shrugged, "Neither have I. But knowing him he's gonna go down the route of 'none of this is real, she's lying' and then he'll find out it's a prank and laugh for the camera, but yell at me afterwards."

"You two love to fight and argue, that's for sure." He jested, smirking devilishly.

"What can I say? He knows how to get under my skin in just the right way. So I have to reciprocate it back." I replied, glancing at the street, waiting to see Sam's car pull up. He was running late.

"Why do you let him upset you so much, if you don't mind me asking?" Colby pushed lightly, his voice low.

"When I first collabed with you guys, I wanted to make a good first impression. And when we investigated, it seemed like Sam really liked me. Or at least tolerated me and respected me." I narrowed my eyes at the memory, sucking my teeth, "But to hear him badmouth me later directly to one of my friends while he was at a party drunk, it just became clear to me that he was fake. Or at least... around me he was."

He shook his head, "Sam's never been like that before. I don't know why he would do that to you."

"Well, all I know is that he thinks I'm arrogant and loud and that I act like I'm better than everyone. Which is fucking hysterical given the fact I hate myself." I deadpanned.

Colby's expression softened. "Don't say that."

I glanced at him quickly, "Sorry, I don't really hate myself that much, but you get what I mean. Well, jokes on him. Your fans love me, and have asked me back twice at this point."

He snorted. "You have no idea how much it pains him to hear the fans love you. It's honestly really fucking funny."

"If it continues to piss him off, then I'm glad." I jeered.

He pointed at the car behind us, peaking into the rearview mirror, "Speak of the devil..."

I unbuckled my seatbelt, slowly getting out of my car. I glared at his Tesla, stupid fucking car, and trudged over to him. Colby walked up to him, giving him a quick hug.

His car had a light sheen on it, clearly wet from a wash. "Was it really necessary to get your car detailed before my video?"

"Of course it was. Anything to delay this, the better." Sam replied, smiling.

"God, I regret asking you to be in the video. I should have just got Colby." I grunted.

Sam pulled open his car door, "I could leave right now. Trust me, I wouldn't mind."

"No. I want you here, just so I can continue to torture you." He rolled his eyes at me, shutting his door and alarming his car. I continued, "Hey, maybe the psychic can tell us how far up the stick is in your ass."

He feigned a grin, walking to me. "Maybe she can tell us why you constantly have a shit dating life."

"Well, you would know that very well, wouldn't you? Mister Unable-to-Commit." I sneered, stepping towards him.

Colby stood between us, "Children, please. Can we stop fighting and just film the intro with all three of us? We are gonna miss our appointment with the psychic."

"Fine. You ready?" I watched both boys nod, Sam rolling his eyes at me. I glared, turning my camera on, pausing, and then starting the fake intro. "Hey guys, today I'm here with Sam and Colby!"

The boys cheered, jumping around and acting like fools for a moment. Sam stepped towards me, yelling almost in my face. I did my best to not react, to only keep smiling.

"Wow, what an intro." I faked a laugh, trying to ignore the ringing in my ears. "So today we are at a psychic tarot reader and we are gonna get our fortunes read. Have you guys ever had that done before?"

"Yes, and boy did it tell us some bad things." Colby answered, smirking.

It hit me suddenly, one of Colby's past readings. I gasped, "Oh my God, I forgot about that!"

Sam chimed in, "Fake fan."

"Well, let's hope for some better futures then. Let's go!" I pointed at the door of the building, then turned the camera off. I smacked Sam's arm, a wince falling from his lips. "Did you really need to fucking say that? Or scream in my ear for that matter."

"What? It was just a joke." He rubbed his arm, his eyes intense, "Don't get your panties in a twist."

I crossed my arms, “I’ll make sure to send the bill from my otolaryngologist to you.”

“Don’t make up words, now.” He mocked.

I quipped, "That’s a real word, dumbass. God you are such a jerk, you know that?"

"A jerk?" He covered his heart, pretending to be wounded. "How will I ever sleep at night?"

I went to step to him, but Colby got in the way. "Don't. He's just fucking with you. Don't let him piss you off." Sam turned and walked inside. Colby lowered his voice, "Besides, you'll be getting him back soon enough."

"I know. This psychic better bring her A game." I grumbled.

We stepped inside, the scent of palo santo hitting me immediately. I felt a cozy feeling flood through me; the walls a lush deep purple velvet, the furniture in earthy and jewel tone colors. There were little trinkets and witchy things all around, some of which you could buy. I walked over to the crystal display, picking up a piece of amethyst.

"Do you honestly think crystals work?" Sam asked.

I hummed, "I'm not sure. But I like the pretty colors."

"Of course you do." He murmured.

My shoulders dropped as I spun to face him, "Have you ever considered not being mean to me?"

"I'm not being mean!" He whisper-yelled. "I'm just saying that you give off the vibe of someone that likes pretty things, including crystals."

"Oh... thanks, I guess." I looked him over, confused and annoyed. "You could have worded it differently, you know."

"Well, if you stopped assuming everything I say to you is me trying to be a dick, maybe we wouldn't be in this situation." He argued.

I place my hands on my hips, “Well if you would stop being a dick to me, I wouldn't think you're trying to always be mean."

He furrowed his brow, "Are you really still upset about-"

"Of course I am." I hissed.

He rolled his eyes, "You're sensitive."

"And you're a prick." I spat.

"Hello! Sorry for coming out a bit late. Was just finishing up my lunch. You guys must be," The psychic looked down at her paper, reading our names. "Colby, Y/N, and Samantha."

"Sam. It's Sam." He corrected.

She gazed down at the paper for a second, frowning. "Oh, my apologies. Must have been written out wrong."

"Must have..." He glared at me, and I smiled sweetly.

Colby politely stuck out his hand, "Thank you for having us. It's a pleasure to meet you..."

"Agatha Cerrony. But you can just call me Aggie," she giggled, shaking his hand. “Okay, so do you want to set up your camera, or how do you guys do it?"

"I was thinking one of us goes at a time, perhaps, and whoever isn't going will film. If that's okay with you?" I inquired, pulling out my camera.

"Of course. Whatever works for you. I will say though, I do recommend that anything too personal shouldn't be filmed, or posted, at the very least." She remarked.

"Yeah, I plan to condense all of our readings down into just some small little bites of info that fans will like to know and that we feel comfortable sharing." I explained, trying to sound serious enough so Sam wouldn't be too suspicious.

"Okay then, who wants to go first?" She asked, looking at all of us.

Colby raised his hand. She grinned excitedly, pointing him to one of the velvet stools in front of her desk. She went around, sat on the other side, and grabbed her tarot deck.

His reading went on for 20 minutes, going through multiple topics like his love life, his relationship with himself and his family, and what the future held for him and his career. I assumed that this part of the reading was true, given how easy going she was saying all of this. And since none of it sounded over the top or dramatic, it seemed pretty realistic.

Then it was Sam's turn. As Colby got up, he gave me a small wink. I choked back a giggle, keeping my face as stone cold as I could. The psychic shuffled the deck quickly, asking him what he wanted to talk about first.

"My career, please." Sam stated.

I rolled my eyes behind the camera, of course that's what he wants to talk about.

She placed three cards down, explaining that the next couple months were going to be full of success, much like Colby's reading. "However, there might be a hiccup in the future, so be cautious of new advisors or managers coming into play." Also, some of their biggest success was just a couple months down the line if they continued down this great path.

"So, keep a clear mind and focus," she reiterated. "What next?"

"How about your love life, Sam?" Colby suggested.

I beamed, "Yeah, that would be so cool to hear about."

Sam sighed, "Ehh, I don't really care-"

"Come on, Sam. Aren't you the least bit curious? You haven't had a gf in almost a year. That's almost unheard of for you." I jested.

He narrowed his eyes at me, "Thanks, Y/N."

Colby smirked. "Look I got mine read, and she's gonna get hers. Do yours."

Sam turned back to the psychic, shrugging nonchalantly. "Fine. Tell me about my future girlfriend. Or love life..."

Aggie nodded, shuffling the deck quickly. I grinned over at Colby, zooming in on the cards she pulled from the deck. "Well, these cards are telling me that while you have been single for a bit, you do seem to have feelings for someone, even if you don't like admitting to it."

Colby audibly gasped, "Wait what?"

"Oh... that's," Sam cleared his throat, "um, interesting."

"It feels like you hold yourself back a bit when it comes to this person." She placed a couple more cards down, pointing at the first one, "This card shows that while you do have feelings, you also are upset with this person. Or maybe, it's more of a back and forth with them. Sometimes you love them, sometimes you hate them. They frustrate you, but you also enjoy that frustration."

"Sounds like someone we know..." Colby whispered to me.

"Do you know who I could be talking about? Is there someone in your mind?" She queried.

Sam squirmed in his seat, shaking his head. "Um, n-no. I don't think so."

She squinted at him for a moment, "Okay..." Aggie pulled more cards from the top, nodding her head at them. "Oh, see. This explains some stuff to me."

His back stiffened, "What do they say?"

"So, you and this person go way back. And I mean, beyond this life. You guys knew each other eons ago. And there is some unresolved tension from a past life that has caused you guys to butt heads all the time." She answered, pointing at the cards.

He blinked. "The cards say all of that?"

She chuckled lightly, "Well, yes and no. I am also a psychic so I'm tapping into my spirit guides to help me explain some of the cards more."

Colby nudged Sam, "Dude, you've been crushing on someone? Why haven't you told me? Do I know her?"

Sam pffted, "I wouldn't say a crush-"

Aggie shuffled the cards again, placing three more down. "You both know her. She's someone you met recently, probably within the last couple months. A very strong energy comes from her, which is why sometimes you butt heads. She meets you with the same energy you give."

"Recently met... strong energy... that sounds like you, Y/N." Colby commented.

"What?! Don't say that." Sam exclaimed.

I faked a glare at Colby, "Yeah, don't start Colby."

Aggie collected all of the cards, "If you want, I can see if you guys have a connection."

Sam inhaled sharply, "I don't know."

"It would be good for the video." I whispered to him.

"You're not posting this unless it says we aren't a match." He scowled.

"Alright, relax Sam. I'm not gonna post it." I gave the camera to Colby, winking. I sat down next to Sam, watching him as he scooched his chair away from me.

Aggie shuffled, placing some cards down. "Oh, well that's interesting."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Well I did pull the Lovers card, but it's in reverse." She replied.

Sam questioned, his voice cold. "What's that mean?"

"There seems to be some form of an imbalance between you two. Something that should be talked about. And these cards right here," she pointed to the others, "show that there should be harmony between you two. Because if there was, you would be together. Whether as friends or more, depending on your choice. But there is something keeping this distance and frustration between you two."

"Wow, that's crazy." I pushed for more ‘answers’, loving the way Sam's face contorted in anger. "Am I the one he has a past life with?"

"Really, Y/N?" Sam whined.

"What? Relax, I highly doubt-" I started.

Aggie interrupted, placing another card down, "Yes. You two definitely knew each other in a past life. I personally believe you used to be husband and wife, just from what my spirit guides are telling me."

"I-I'm... What?" Sam stuttered.

"I think there is a lot of unresolved communication between you two, as appearing in this card." She held the card up, showing it towards the camera. "Now obviously, I don't know for certain what's going on inside your head, but if you want to fix things between you two, and I suggest you do, you have to talk to one another. Because from what I can see, you two would work well with one another. Possibly soulmates, if you believe in something like that. But only if you listen."

Sam stood up instantly. "Okay, I think I'm done with my reading."

"Aw, you scared we're soulmates?" I taunted.

"Don't you want to get your cards read? It's late." He retorted, his eyes not meeting mine.

"Well, since your love reading turned into my love reading, I guess I'll ask about my future or whatever." I shrugged happily.

Aggie shuffled the cards as I asked about my career and future friendships. I barely paid attention, figuring the video was already done anyway. I honestly deserve an Oscar for the way I was able to hold back my laughs. God, the look on Sam's face was priceless. He looked so pissed but also weirdly nervous.

Can't wait to make it the thumbnail.

"Is there anything else you would like to ask?" She questioned, collecting her cards.

"No, I think I'm all good here." I turned to Colby, smiling at the camera. "How about we'll regroup outside and talk about what went down then?"

Colby nodded, turning the camera off. "Sounds good to me."

Sam said nothing, walking over to the waiting room chairs with Colby. As they grew closer to each other, Sam spoke in hushed tones to him.

I turned back to Aggie, shaking her hand softly. "Hey, thank you so much for letting us film here. I really appreciate it. That whole bit about Sam and I being soulmates was really good."

She raised an eyebrow at me, "Bit? I'm not sure what you mean by that."

"Also, I know this is probably really weird to ask, but on the phone, you had a thick accent of some sort..." I explained, a bit confused, "It almost sounded French to me? Are you from there or-?"

"Oh! You must have been talking with Madeline," she laughed. "She's the owner of this place, I'm just one of her friends who does readings from time to time."

I hesitated, her words sinking in. "Um... wasn't she the one that was supposed to do the reading?"

"Yeah, did she forget to call you? She's sick, out with a cold," Aggie mentioned. "But I figured she wouldn't mind me doing your reading anyway. We've both been practicing tarot readers for 20 years."

"Uh.. Uh, did she tell you about what I wanted this reading to be about?" I stammered.

"Unfortunately she didn't write that out in her schedule, but you asked me during your session. Was there anything in particular you needed me to read for you? I can do another session real quick before the next group comes in." She suggested.

"No, no that's fine. Um, I-I..." I exhaled deeply, trying to calm myself. "So everything you just told me, about me and Sam and how in past lives we were together and that we would actually work out really well if we dated... that was all true?"

"That's what the cards said, yes. Along with my own personal psychic feelings," she admitted. "If you want I can give you some more resources and you can look the cards up on your own if you need some further explanation."

"Thank you, I appreciate that." I mumbled, barely listening to what she said.

As she gathered up some papers, jotting down some books for me to check out, I glanced over at Sam. He was still talking to Colby, but looking at me. His face was hard to read, but his eyes had this softness in them I hadn't ever seen before.

My heart skipped a beat as we locked eyes.

[chrkrose]

Just wanted to say that I completely agreed with your Sunrise take. It's almost as though you plucked it out of my brain and put it in words.

Its a shame that the Maysilee/Haymitch ship has been struck down so explicitly. I can't see the ship being popular now without fans claiming that we've 'missed the whole point'.

I also agreed with your take about Lenore: to me, she's far too similar to Lucy Gray for me to care about her in her own right and that's a shame.

I'm interested to see if you have any other thoughts since I enjoyed your first post a lot.

More thoughts on SOTR, Maysilee and Maysilee/ Haymitch.

I mean… I have issues with several aspects of Sunrise on the Reaping (SOTR), honestly. Like, the way the book handles its themes is just so on the nose. It lacks the subtlety Suzanne used to have. One of the biggest appeals of the original trilogy was that Katniss wasn’t a chosen one—she wasn’t special, she wasn’t trying to be a rebel, she was just surviving. And now suddenly we’re rewriting that entire foundation to make her destiny feel preordained? Add in all the fan service, which felt so Marvel-level with its cameos and callbacks, and yeah… I struggled with a lot of it.

The Maysilee stuff—and the Maysilee/Haymitch potential—is just one example in a list of things that didn’t work for me, but it’s a great one to highlight what went wrong.

First off, my gripe with Maysilee and Haymitch isn’t even just that they weren’t romantic. Sure, I do think a romantic storyline would’ve added more depth and been more compelling, but what really bugs me is the way people jump to that “not every relationship needs to be romantic!!” discourse like it’s some mic drop moment. And like—yeah, of course not every bond has to be romantic. The series already gives us beautiful platonic relationships, so what are you truly saying here? I always feel like that argument has a bit of a misogynistic edge, like romance automatically weakens a story or a character. That it’s less serious or important just because it’s “girly” or emotional. It’s the reverse of the people who think romance is the only thing that matters—it’s still minimizing, just from another angle.

Personally, I think a romantic connection between Maysilee and Haymitch could have added a lot to the story. Not because romance is inherently better, but because it would’ve allowed us to actually see the relationship develop. Imagine Haymitch having to confront and dismantle his class prejudices toward her. Imagine the layers that would add to his trauma, to his choices, to the person he becomes. That arc would’ve felt way more grounded than suddenly introducing Lenore Dove—a character who feels like a Lucy Gray copy-paste—and expecting us to accept her as the Great Love of Haymitch’s life.

And look, I’m a sucker for a good love story. I would have eaten it up so fast if this was a good one. But it simply wasn’t. There was no tension, no buildup, no spark. Just symbolism on top of symbolism, and a girl who was written to be “quirky” and “different” and important, but never felt real. She was too mythical, too much, too “main girl who haunts the narrative” without earning that weight. At least Lucy Gray had quirks and nuance. Lenore just felt like Suzanne ticking boxes: rebel, covey, singer, poet attached to her name, dead too soon. And I’m sorry, but having Haymitch still pining for his 16-year-old girlfriend decades later, when we barely get to see him reflect on his family or his fellow tributes? At least give space to his mother and brother, to the tributes he bonded with, to all the people he lost along the way.

And that’s what really bothers me. Suzanne always trusted her readers to come to their own conclusions. She showed us dynamics—Katniss and Peeta, Finnick and Katniss, Johanna and Peeta, even Katniss and Gale—and let us interpret. She never had to spell out who these people were to each other. But it seems like she didn’t trust that when it comes to Maysilee and Haymitch, and to Lenore and Haymitch as well. Suddenly we were told what to feel, how to perceive every relationship. And that just doesn’t land for me. It actually undermines the emotional weight because it feels like she didn’t trust the story to stand on its own.

And if the whole idea was to subvert expectations and say “Surprise! Everything you thought you knew about Haymitch’s Games is actually propaganda,” then… I don’t know. That twist didn’t work for me either. It didn’t enhance the themes, it just made me feel, again, like I wasn’t capable enough to reach conclusions on my own. For a book who speaks of propaganda, she sure tried to determine how we would interact with it without room for anything else.

Now, about Maysilee herself—she would’ve worked so much better as the ghost in Haymitch’s narrative. Platonic or romantic, an ambiguous bond between her and Haymitch had more potential than what we got. The Capitol downplaying her role would’ve tied beautifully with Haymitch’s later manipulation of the Katniss/Peeta narrative. She mirrors both of them in ways Lenore doesn’t: she’s a merchant girl like Peeta, she’s got Katniss’ fire, and her pin—her pin—becomes the ultimate symbol of rebellion. She painted the final poster. Not to mention the quiet tragedy of him having to see her twin sister around town for the rest of his life. That’s the kind of subtle, haunting storytelling that would’ve worked.

But instead, they stripped all that from her to give it to Lenore, and in the process, even Katniss’ story gets hurt. Because now, Katniss isn’t just a girl who stumbled into something bigger than herself—now she’s been chosen since the beginning. Which removes one of the most powerful things about her arc: the idea that regular people, caught in the right place at the right time, can change the world.

Lucy Gray worked as a ghost in Snow’s story. Maysilee should’ve been that for Haymitch. But unfortunately, all that depth, all that symbolism, was handed to a character who didn’t earn it and who honestly just didn’t deliver the emotional payoff Suzanne thought she would.

[songsofadelaide]

refulgence — a companion piece to radiant point.

A montage of your favourite childhood memories plays in your head. Somehow you've forgotten all about how tired you were, and only the sound of your platoon members' laughter could be heard in the background.

Suddenly, you're five, and Soshiro just placed a wooden sword in your hand. You declared yourself his rival, but do rivals really get this excited to see each other again? Aren't they supposed to loathe each other while pushing each other to the very ends of their limits? (Honestly, how could you even loathe that adorable face of his?)

You're eleven this time, beaten to the ground right next to Soshiro while his older brother playfully berated you both for being little weaklings. Soichiro blew a raspberry in your direction, only for his head to hit your shinai with a small thunk.

"One all!" You screamed in complete delight as the younger brother rolled on the ground laughing with tears in his eyes.

Fifteen— you blinked your eyes, light and haze all over— And it's Soshiro handing you a copy of the curriculum for the Neutralization College he planned on attending. You both just started high school and college isn't even until three years.

"D'you want me to talk to your old man?" He asked you with a look of concern, but you shook your head at him. "C'mon, name yer price just for that pretty smile of yours and I'll get it!"

When you were eighteen, you cried your whole flight to France because Soshiro didn't see you off. You scolded yourself for being selfish— Come on, he can't put off everything for you, you thought to yourself. When you messaged him first thing after arriving, you didn't expect him to reply to you immediately. [ 😂😂😂 Glad you made it there in one piece! ] [ Miss you already, princess. ] [ Be good there. ]

You punched a guy in the face when you were twenty. "Ne me touche pas, connard!" And you would have buried your fist in his hollowed cheek again if not for your clubmates pulling you aside. "You don't get to call me your rival when you're hardly at my level! I only have one rival and he's waiting for me back home in Japan!"

Though Soshiro was hardly a rival at that time of your life. On your desk at your lodging was a letter asking him to ask for your hand in marriage but you'll subsequently die of joy afterward if he does. He was everything to you— your very first friend, your rival, your first heartache, your very first love—

"Oh, my gosh. Our Platoon Leader is crying! N-No, wait— I-Is she smiling?"

"Are you blind? She's obviously smiling while crying."

"That's what I just said!"

Somehow the voices in your head were getting realistically louder and your narrowed vision only showed several of your young officers fussing over you now that you're evidently drunk beyond sense.

Man, what a shining example I am to the rookies...

Now, you felt someone pry away your beer glass from your hand. There was a certain tenderness and familiarity to their touch, but all you could respond with was a low grumble of protest. "I'm fine...!"

"Yer obviously not fine. Come on, let's not make your team worry—"

Where were you this time? Was this some kind of memory again? Or perhaps a glimpse of something that had yet to happen? This can't be real, either. Your team members extended an invitation to the Vice Captain, but he said he was going to be busy tonight.

So who was this person who looked exactly like your Vice Captain— your silly little first love— trying to ease the half-empty beer glass from your hold?

"Soshiro? Ah, who am I kidding? You said you were busy, so... I'm probably just dreaming this up," you said with surprising clarity that seemed to shock everyone at your table. "You weren't there to see me off when I went to France! I'm still so sad about it!..."

The hand on your back started rubbing gentle circles that seemed to make you cry even more. "I'm sorry about that. Fer what it's worth, I did try to see ya off back then. I was just a li'l late is all..."

Your team members couldn't believe that their Vice Captain was there in the flesh now, an index finger raised to his lips as he still tried to coax the beer glass out of your hands. "I finished my reports early, so here I am. I forgot ta mention that she gets all weepy when she's had one too many drinks."

Your table fell so silent that you could hear a pin drop to the floor, and all they could hear apart from the izakaya's muted music was your soft sobs of relief and grief— relief that your officers were doing their best to get to your standard, and grief for tragedies that have yet to come. Tragedies you wish would never come. "My adorable little officers are doing so, so well, are they not? They have to keep up their good work b-because I don't want any of them to... to die!..."

"'Course they're doing great. You're an excellent Platoon Leader yourself!"

"Soshirooo..."

With your head lowered to the table, you cried and sobbed and hiccupped until you were eventually out of your wits and fast asleep.

"Out like a light. Now, don't stop on my account! I'll be here 'til you guys wrap up," Soshiro stated with his usual cheer as he raised your empty beer glass for a refill.

"W-We're glad to have you here, Vice Captain, sir!"

Even though he said they could carry on with their drinking, the excitement of the evening died out as soon as they heard their Platoon Leader crying over them even though they were still alive and breathing and celebrating.

"We didn't expect our Platoon Leader to be so... sentimental," said one of your newer members as they took a rather small sip from their glass. They all had the same strange and expectant looks on their faces as they eyed the older man and his uncharacteristically gentle nature when it came to you.

"Naw, she's always been like that. Ever since we were kids," the Vice Captain said as he received a full glass of beer from one of the servers. "I suppose you're all wonderin' why we're so close in the first place. Now you know!"

"The Platoon Leader and Vice Captain are childhood friends?!"

A small sigh of relief left your lips as you felt a cool hand gently brush away the hair stuck your forehead. The touch was subtle but tender and left a faint scent that reminded you so much of your first love.

It came to light that one of your platoon members had fencing experience, so what better way to have a test of skill than to duke it out with your sabres? A duel was declared, and when you returned to your quarters to retrieve your carrying case, you found one of the pockets neatly zipped closed.

Hey, wait a sec.

That specific pocket had something in it, but now it was empty. Your old letters to Soshiro were missing.

???

And it puzzled you because no one else has ever been to your room. No one but—

...

A knock on his office door prompted Soshiro to look up from the documents on his desk. "Come in."

His usual cheerful expression turned up even more when you entered the room all flushed and breathless. Regardless of your evident exhaustion, you maintained decorum and gave him a sharp salute.

"Vice Captain, sir!"

"Anything I can help you with, Platoon Leader?"

"Sir, you have something... No, I believe you took something from my... room after the, uh..."

So you already knew. Soshiro wanted to read them a little bit longer because they explained so much to him, especially why you stopped writing to him. The unsent letters were surprisingly honest and voiced the very depths of your feelings for him. Feelings that you promised your Captain would not get in the way of your work.

He chuckled at how flustered you were. "Use your words, Platoon Leader. I can hardly understand a thing yer sayin'."

"Y-You took my letters! The ones I—"

"You mean the letters addressed to me? The ones you weren't able to send because of how candid they were?"

"Y-Yes! Those letters are—!"

Soshiro could only shrug in his seat. "All right, you got me. I couldn't help myself. How was I not supposed to read those when they had my name on them?"

"I... uh..."

"C'mere," he motioned for you to approach him. "It's just the two of us here, so don't worry."

You made your approach, but he gestured for you to come even closer to him. When you were finally standing right before him, he took your hands in his and gently tugged you into his arms. A bold move, too, considering someone can walk right into his office and once again find you both in a compromising position. He hardly paid mind to that possibility, though, by the way he comfortably nuzzled and buried his face into your chest.

"V—"

"It's just us," he murmured against your chest, but you were far too embarrassed and self-conscious at how rapidly your heart must be beating this time.

"Y'know how I'd devour every single thing that had words on it, yeah? But your letters always made me the happiest," he continued. "You can always write to me even though we're just here. Just like this. If there's anythin' ya can't say to my face or whatnot... You can always write to me."

Soshiro looked as pleased as a cat with a treat when you raised your hand to caress the hair just above his nape, a smile pulling at your lips as you saw just how contented he was holding you in his arms. "All right, Soshiro. I think I will."

Your platoon members knew better than to cross your path when you were paged to the Command Centre to receive a call from the Sixth Division Captain. The drills you were holding forcibly ground to a halt as you tempered both your visage and your disposition, because of all the people, he had to be the one to call.

You took a deep breath as you held the receiver in your ear, greeting him with the same kind of snappiness you'd have for any superior. "Hello, Captain, sir!"

[ "You do know that there's no need to be so formal with me. We're friends, aren't we?" ]

"I could hardly call you a friend, Soichiro-san," you scoffed at the phone, closely followed by a soft chuckle. You decided it was safe to drop his honorific for now. "Is there anything I can do for you, sir?"

[ "I just wanted to congratulate you on your engagement. I'm only glad to know that you're officially Soshiro's headache now." ]

You rolled your eyes at the older man's remark, feeling extremely lucky that he couldn't see all the faces you were pulling. "Oh, please, you exaggerate! I've always been a good girl to you and your family. Just admit that you couldn't handle my growth and the fact that you would have a wife your equal in strength and skill."

Soichiro laughed from the other end of the phone. [ "No one wants a brat for a wife. That's why you and Soshiro make a good match. You're both equally incredibly bratty and stubborn. I still remember that time he challenged me for you. He put up a fight, that one. I knew he'd bother me to no end unless he won with his own strength." ]

Huh. You didn't know that.

[ "Soshiro said that if I didn't want ya, he'd gladly take you off my hands. Too bad you pulled that stunt with our old man, though! Tellin' him and everyone else that you didn't want to marry me." ]

"That's still true, you know. I could afford to be a fool for lesser things back then. Now is different."

There was a pause from the other end of the phone, followed by another chuckle from Soichiro. [ "You like him that much, huh?" ]

"I like Soshiro more than you can ever imagine. My family knew I didn't like you, Soichiro-san. But considering everything, I was smart not to ask for your brother back then," you replied with a smile. "I was a beggar princess, after all. My family owed yours, so who was I to make any demands?"

[ "Ya didn't know any better back then, so cut yourself some slack. Though if you did ask... I'm sure you'd both be beggin'. He likes ya that much, too." ]

You knew that. You knew that Soshiro loved you to the point of humbling himself to your family, the very people who owed something to his own.

[ "Well, that's all I have to say to ya. I'm hangin' up. Knowin' Soshiro, he'd get all green with envy when he finds out I called you," ] He said. [ "Tell me if you want anythin' from Kobe and I'll send it to ya pronto. Consider it a gift from me." ]

"Thanks, Soichiro-san. For the record, you're an awful brother. But you're a pretty great brother-in-law," you replied to him. "I'll let you know if I ever do want something."

But you knew better than to take up his offer. Soshiro would sooner head to Kobe himself to get you something you want rather than have you receive something from his older brother.

"To Hoshina Soshiro-副隊長,

Please be more mindful when you refer to me as 'wifey' while we're here at base. You nearly gave my team members a heart attack when you let it slip while they were training! While it's true that I don't mind a simple ceremony, please don't give my members any crazy ideas because they will plan something, and they're already a handful as they are now."

For the record, I like how it sounds. It just gets everyone worked up, though! They're all so happy for me we can hardly train properly!

I'll see you at dinner, but please refer to me by my rank and name! You're incredibly lucky Captain Ashiro gives you a free pass! But remember that we're at work. You'll have all the time in the world to call me 'wifey' in the future, for as long as we're fighting for it.

I love you always, my hard worker. ♡ Let's continue our good work! Not that you even need me to tell you that lol."

�� x

[all444miles]

— ARCADE DATES

— pairing: e!42 miles x fem!black!reader hcs — genre: fluff — cw: cursing, use of the n word once, one slightly suggestive comment that's abt it — summary: miles is your boyfriend, so when you heard that the local funfair was opened, you just had to ask him to come with you. the perfect date, right? — translations: ¿Estabas diciendo, mi princesa? Fallaste como, cada disparo. = What were you saying, my princess? You missed like, every shot. mi culpa = my fault. cálma, cariño! = take it easy, baby! Hijo de puta.. = son a bitch.. — a/n: if the translations are incorrect/inaccurate, pls correct me n I apologise 😭 other than that, please enjoy!!

you text your boyfriend miles asking if he wanted to come to the fair with you. obviously, he says yes

fs he'll make a bet that whoever gets the highest score on the basketball machine has to pay for all the snacks. "amor, you tryna make a bet?"

"what kind?" "basketball machine. you lose, you gotta buy snacks for the rest of the night." "you for real think you gon win?" "ma, you look like a three year old when you try n shoot." "boy, please."

he wins, of course. he'll honestly flex about it for the rest of the night and laugh at how you're acting like a sore loser.

"Estabas diciendo, ¿mi princesa? Fallaste como, cada disparo." he'll tease you, nudging you with his elbow with a smirk printed on his face.

"miles, i hate you." "Aw, I love you too, mami."

you'll make the same proposal but with the car racing games, and this time, you win.

"woo! kiss my ass, miles!" "oh word? bet." "nigga." "jus’ sayin, mi culpa, mamas."

he's dedicated to getting you a hello kitty plush on that one unfair stand when he saw you look at it. he ain't even into that stuff, but he knows you are, so he'll do it.

"you really wan' that kitty plush, amor?" "look at it, its so cute tho!" "you trippin. but, ima buy it for you." "ain't those games unfair?" "and?"

it takes only 3 times of him losing, a chuckle from you and the owner at the stand to say "ah, looks like you can't win the plush for your lady, hm?" for it to get on his nerves. "hijo de puta.." miles curses, a scowl on his face in annoyance — but you try and calm him down. "cálma, cariño! its aight, we can jus' go to another stand!"

he deadass just knocks out the owner, leaves $50, takes the plush n gives it to you and goes on with the rest of the date 😭

y'all would kiss everywhere.

in the photo booth, you'll be on his lap n yall would take pics like this or like this.

at the tunnel of love, y'all corny mfs gon be kissin almost all half way..

yall with most definitely kiss at the top of the ferris wheel. sum like this

n and at the end of the night, when your man n you come back home from a night of fun n games, you’ll shower n cuddle for this rest of the night till you both fall asleep in eachothers embrace.

“tonight was fun, right miles?” “si, mi sol.” “i wonder if that guy you knocked out woke up yet..” “mami, go to sleep.”

© all444miles 2023. do not plagerize, copy, or repost my work in any way shape or form, without my permission.

likes, reblogs n comments r appreciated !

[sweetprfct]

Strawberry Frosting

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Waking up from your nap, you found your husband Joe and your daughter, Rosie baking sugar cookies.

Author's Note: Okay, thanks a lot @ceriseheaven for talking about more girldad!Joe . I'm gonna be making more after this. Forgive me I'm still learning how to write fics with kids in it since it's not really my cup of tea most of the time. I hope you enjoy!

Wordcount: 1.9K

The sound of the mixer whirring in the late afternoon was what woke you up from your nap. You had decided to leave your little girl with your loving husband as you took a nap and relaxed for a while. You have spent your Saturday morning cleaning around the house and catching up on chores that you kept putting off during the week. Now, your back was hurting, you had a throbbing headache, and you needed some peace and quiet even just for an hour. 

Waking up at 4pm and seeing your husband covered in strawberry frosting was the last thing you expected to see. Getting up from your bed and making your way down the stairs, you paused in your tracks when you heard laughter and giggles echoing from the kitchen. You leaned against the doorframe and watched Joe turn the mixer on. 

The kitchen counters were covered in flour, drops of different liquid ingredients and dirty bowls and spoons. Your 3 year old daughter, Rosie, was sitting on the counter top, watching her father try his best to bake her some sugar cookies. It was moments like these that made you want this world to stop and just watch this moment over and over again. 

Rosie had always been a daddy’s girl, and you couldn't honestly blame her for being one. Joe loved to spoil her even before she was born. When you were pregnant, Joe would buy just about anything he could find at the store. 

“Don’t you think she would love this?” He picked up a stuffed pink bear, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“Joe, didn’t you already get her a teddy bear?” 

“Yes, but this one is pink!” Joe argued. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle as Joe shrugged and placed the pink bear in the cart. He didn’t care if he already bought her the same one in a different color. If he thought she would love it, he would get it. 

The moment Rosie was born, you could instantly see her resemblance to Joe. Her big brown eyes and as she grew older, her hair was curly just like her father’s. He was his mini copy as what you would always say. Joe always had been such a good father. Even with his busy schedule, he refused to miss the big moments with you and Rosie. He would drop everything in an instant for the both of you, and you didn’t even know you could love him even more. 

“Mum!” Rosie exclaimed, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

You shifted your eyes at Rosie, who was pointing at you, her shirt and face covered in frosting.

“Hey, darling.” Joe smiled. “You’re awake. Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you.” You grinned happily, making your way towards the kitchen counter.

You watched as Rosie reached her arms towards you. You chuckled softly, grabbing the kitchen towel to wipe her face from all the frosting. You have no idea what they have been doing, but they definitely made a mess in the kitchen.

“Oh my goodness!” You laughed softly, taking Rosie in your arms. “I think someone has been eating too much frosting.”

“We made sugar cookies.” Rosie smiled, pointing at the freshly baked cookies on the tray. 

“I see that. You and Daddy made it from scratch?” 

Rosie nodded her head, her brown curls bouncing. You smiled and shifted your eyes at Joe. He was still playing with the mixer as he tasted the frosting that he was making. He was wearing your floral apron, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of him. He had flour and pink frosting on his beard and cheek. He certainly looked like he had been trying his best to bake cookies for his daughter.

“Do you need help?” You asked, watching Joe sucked the frosting off his finger and made a disapproval expression.

“This is my second batch, and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” Joe shook his head, staring at the mixing bowl.

“Let me try.” You walked over to him, placing Rosie on your hip. 

You reached over to the bowl and sucked the frosting off your finger before making a face. 

“That’s so sweet.” You scrunch your face. “How much sugar did you put in this?” 

“It said five cups.”

Your eyes widened, “Five?!”

You walked around Joe and read the recipe in the recipe book and bit your lower lip. You gazed up at Joe and gave him your sympathetic eyes. The poor thing must be that tired because he read the instructions wrong.

“No, it’s five tablespoons of milk.” You said. “It’s three cups of powdered sugar.”

You heard Rosie giggle as Joe knitted his brows and leaned in towards you. He blinked a few times before slapping a palm on his forehead.

“Ohmygod, my eyesight is that bad now? I thought it said five cups!”

You laughed softly, caressing his back softly. You and Joe turned when you both heard Rosie laughed softly. Immediately, Joe raised a brow at her, his fingers poking her small tummy.

“That’s funny to you, yea?” Joe teased, tickling her on her side as Rosie kicked her feet and laughed harder.

You laughed, holding on to Rosie in your arms as she continued to squirm, while Joe continued to tickle her. 

“That’s funny, yea?” Joe asked. “You won’t have any cookies if you keep laughing at me.”

Rosie immediately went dead silent as she pouted and reached her arms towards Joe. Taking her up in his arms, Joe swung her around in the air, making her laugh before nuzzling his frosting covered face on hers. He left repeated kisses all over her face as Rosie laughed, kicking her feet in happiness. You couldn’t help but watch them together. They were so adorable like this, and you honestly didn’t even want to ruin the moment at all. 

Joe placed Rosie back on the kitchen counter as he wiped off the frosting that got stuck on her face from him. You grabbed the mixing bowl and dumped the bad frosting in the bin before washing it.

“Darling, I got it.” Joe murmured, hugging you from behind and kissing your cheek softly.

“Are you sure?” You raised a brow at him.

“Yes.” Joe smirked. “I know what to do now.”

Letting out a soft hum, you grabbed a clean kitchen towel to wipe off the excess water inside the mixing bowl before handing it back to him. You never tried to get in the way when it came to their daddy-daughter time. Leaning on the kitchen island, you watched as Joe read the instructions—carefully this time— and asked Rosie to hand him the ingredients. 

Together, they would measure the ingredients and dump it in the bowl before Joe would turn the mixer on. Sitting on the counter top, Rosie swung her legs excitedly, while Joe washed his hands and carried Rosie in his arms. 

“Strawberry frosting.” Rosie murmured, pointing at the perfect frosting that Joe had finally made.

“Let’s try it, yea?” Joe leaned Rosie forward in his arms as she dipped her finger on the frosting and smiled happily. 

“Good?” Joe asked, smiling at his daughter.

“Good!” Rosie gave him a thumbs up before turning her head towards you. “Mum, try it!” 

You grinned at them and walked around the counter. You stared at the bowl before dipping your finger on the frosting and tasted it. You could see Joe was waiting for your reaction, his eyes pleading that it had turned out better than the last two batches he had made. 

“How is it?” He asked. 

“Perfect.” You smiled. 

Joe pumped his fist into the air before giving Rosie a high five and placed her back on the counter again. You laughed softly, watching Joe grab the tray of cookies and place it on the plate next to Rosie. 

“Okay, darling.” Joe said. “Let’s decorate these cookies.”

As Joe grabbed a piping bag, he shoved some frosting in it before handing it to Rosie. You stood to the side and enjoyed the scene that was in front of you. You leaned forward against the counter, your chin on the palm of your hand as you watched them both. Joe helped Rosie decorate the cookies, making more mess in the kitchen as they laughed together. You could see the tiredness in Joe’s eyes, but you knew he refused to go get some rest until he was able to finish these cookies with Rosie. 

Joe had been promising Rosie all week that he would bake with her, but he had been super busy with filming, and he was glad that he had found time to spend time with her on this beautiful Saturday afternoon. However, Joe was filming late at night so he didn’t come home until this morning. 

“Wow!” Joe exclaimed, clapping his hands. “That looks so beautiful, darling.” 

You tilted your head as you watched Rosie add a mountain of pink glittery sprinkles on the cookie. You couldn’t help but chuckle softly as you walked over towards them. 

“Let me see.” You said, looking at the tray of sugar cookies with pink frosting and glittery sprinkles.

“That looks so beautiful.” You smiled at Rosie, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

Rosie picked up one of the cookies from the tray and reached it over for you to take a bite out of it. You let out a soft approving hum, chewing on the cookie and nodding your head. 

“Delicious.” You grinned, brushing her soft brown curls. “You and Daddy are such good bakers.”

“Yay!!” Rosie clapped her hands as you and Joe both laughed. 

You started picking up the dirty dishes and placed them on the sink and started washing them before you felt Joe’s strong arms wrapped around your waist. He hugged you from behind, setting his chin on your shoulder, grinning happily.

“I can handle that, love.” He whispered, kissing your cheek.

“Hmm…” You turned around as he yawned softly. 

You picked up a clean dish towel and wiped the frosting off his face. “You and Rosie get some rest, and I’ll finish up around here.”

“No, it’s my mess. Let me clean it up.” Joe argued. 

“No, no. You both go to the living room and relax. I can handle it.” You gave him a reassuring smile. 

“Okay, thank you.” Joe smiled, kissing you softly on the lips. 

“Just make sure to change her into a fresh shirt, please.”

“Will do!” Joe called out as he carried Rosie in his arms and walked out of the kitchen.

You couldn’t even feel frustrated or mad about all of this. Even if you had just deep cleaned the kitchen this morning, you were too caught up admiring the sight of them earlier. You couldn’t help but smile, thinking about how much Joe loves the both of you. How much he’d do anything for Rosie even if he was exhausted. 

Putting away the clean dishes back on the cupboard and wiping the kitchen counters, you placed a few cookies on a plate and made your way towards the living room. You could hear the movie Tangled playing on the television and the next thing your eyes caught made your heart swell even more. 

Joe was laying on the sofa with Rosie on top of his chest. Rosie’s soft curls were sprawled on Joe’s arm, her tiny arms wrapped around his neck. Joe’s one arm was underneath his head and his other one wrapped around Rosie’s body. His chest was rising and falling steadily as they both slept peacefully. 

You couldn’t help but just stand there and watch them for a moment. 

You certainly love this little family of yours. 

The End. 

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[inmyheaddd]

gold rush - grayson hawthorne x reader

warnings: academic rivals not really to lovers/ friends to lovers, kissing, very fluffy wc: 1.7k masterlist

grayson hawthorne sat across from you in your biology class in your senior year. you’d known him—or of him—all the way through high school.

you two were practically the two top scorers in everything. 

you two would always cross paths; in class, award ceremonies, extracurriculars, anything academic-related, honestly.

but you two never really spoke though, up until now.

you always sort of hoped you’d be partnered up with him for something: an excuse to talk because you knew neither of you would speak to the other first. 

the opportunity finally arose when your biology teacher put you together for your end of semester project. 

you can’t lie, the first time you met in the library to do work was awkward. 

something about him always intrigued you, so you bit the bullet and tried to start a conversation.

his “strictly work” mode was boring, but once you two got into a flowing conversation, he quickly warmed up, and his eyes looked much more inviting than they did 20 minutes ago.

“sometimes i geniuenly can’t understand what he’s saying with that accent of his, i think we need a scottish translator in the class,” you said with a soft laugh. 

you two had been sitting in the library for around 30 minutes now, with no work done. 

you didn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone by talking, it was just you two in the whole place.

he chuckled at what you said and you felt your stomach do a backflip when you saw dimples flash for a split second. 

he had dimples. god, could he get any cuter? 

“i much preferred our teacher last year, miss hawkins”

a smile found your face, “oh my god, yes, she was the sweetest!” you put a hand on your chest, almost in awe, thinking one of the best teachers you had. 

“she’d always round up my scores and talk about students and teachers with me when i’d finish my work.” you couldn’t help but laugh at the memory of gossiping with your 30-year-old biology teacher at her desk.

“so that's what you two were always doing.” a smile stretched across his face, then he continued, tilting his head to the side slightly and furrowing his brows, “isn’t that… somewhat illegal?” 

“hey, it gave me motivation to finish early. let me live.” 

he shrugged, “i’m not telling.” he made that sound like a challenge.

“so you won’t let any underlying jealousy from me being biology student of the year get in the way?” you teased him right back.

“oh i’m not jealous, believe me.” you raised your eyebrows at that, and he spoke again with a grin. “you just told me half of it was because miss hawkins would round your grades.” 

your mouth fell open. “okay, yeah by like one percent!” you crossed your arms over your chest. “there’s no need to be rude here.” you leaned back in your chair, like you were truly appalled. 

grayson saw right through you, and after 2 seconds of staring at each other in silence with your lips twitching upwards, you two fell into a fit of laughter. 

when you two recovered, he spoke again, “you did deserve it, though. you’d be the only one answering questions in class half the time.” he said, looking in your eyes deeply, reminiscing on times that seemed so far away now. 

“don’t count yourself out, hawthorne. you were like the only person who took that class seriously.” 

“apart from you?” he finished your unsaid thought with a tiny grin on his face.

“yeah,” a smile formed on your face, “apart from me.” 

an hour later, still, with no work done, you were talking about books.

he was a nonfiction and classics reader. and you, well, you were definitely not. 

“okay, why don’t you read little women then? it’s also a classic, but it's not boring.” 

“actually, now that you mention it, i have had my eye on it for a while.” 

he said that so calmly, if only he knew how much his rating just went up in your head.

“well if you want, i could lend it to you, i have an extra copy.” you both knew he was very capable of getting his own copy, but this way, it felt like you were actually building some sort of relationship together.

“that would be nice, thankyou.” he smiled once again, and it was like your face mirrored everything he did.

you glanced down from your notebook to him and, then back to your empty notebook and laptop that was now turned off in realization.

you two hadn’t written a single word down.

he was watching you, and you tilted your head back up. “oh my god, we haven’t done a single thing.” 

it was honestly kind of funny, or maybe, everything seemed to be funny right now with grayson. you had that, airy, light, and giddy feeling. 

you were surprised you weren’t giggling at every word he said like a mad woman. 

he shrugged, humming slightly in disagreement before speaking. “i’ve gotten to know you, that’s more important to me.” 

oh. 

okay. just act normal. be chill about it.

“oh, yeah, it’s nice to get to know you too.” 

you were 99% sure your face was the colour of your red school tie.

he smiled at you, and his dimples you saw flash earlier were on full display now.

“we should get some work done, then?” he suggested, after a beat of silence and ever so slightly awkward eye contact, putting you out of your misery. 

“yeah, we probably should.” you let out a nervous chuckle.

grayson thought he made you uncomfortable with that. he’s actually known you for less than a day; how did he even let that thought slip out? he was never like this.

the next time you met in the same library, you brought your little women copy. you honestly forgot about it because you fell into conversation so quickly, but soon enough it was pinging in the back of your mind, and you told grayson.

“you really didn’t have to, thankyou.” you heard the smile in his voice as you looked through your bag to get the book. “i wanted to,” you replied, as you handed him the book. 

his gaze caught yours with a smile, and then he was flicking through the book. 

‘you annotate?” his eyes sparked with interest, and he was hoping the way he was so totally enamored with you wasn’t so obvious on the outside.

“oh,” how did you forget that you wrote inside of that copy? “yeah, nothing really special, just thoughts or whatever.” 

“that’s good, it’ll be like you’re there reading with me.” 

“yeah,” your cheeks were heating up, and then he looked down at the book in his hand before looking up and asking another question. “would you mind if i wrote in it as well?” 

oh my god. 

“no, no, of course not!” good thing you didn’t sound too eager… 

“i mean, i’d love to see what you think about it.” and if it was possible, he smiled deeper, flashing his dimples that you’ve quickly grown to love. 

once you both handed in your project, he decided to ask you out on a “celebration” date. just two friends hanging out. nothing special!

you arrived at the coffee shop 15 minutes early, only to find grayson already sitting there. 

your heart fluttered as he looked up and caught your eyes. he did a small wave, and smiled at you.

“hey,” you said as you sat down, scooting in your chair closer to the table.

“hi,” he did a once-over on you, and he realized this was the first time he was really seeing you outside of anything school related. “you look lovely,” he spoke his thoughts out loud.

“thank you,” you added, “you don’t look too bad yourself.”

he chuckled, “thank you.” 

you fell into comfortable conversation, and 20 minutes later, you were both done with your drinks. iced coffee for you, black coffee for grayson. the weather was perfect, and he suggested a little walk, you couldn’t think of a better idea. 

a waiter came to your table for the tab, and you reached in your bag. “please, let me,” grayson interjected, and gave you a look that left no room for argument.

you thanked him and smiled, leaning back into your seat as he paid, knowing damn well the only things you brought with you were your phone, gum, and lipgloss. 

as you both stepped outside, the warm sunlight bathed the streets in a golden hue. you and grayson strolled down the sidewalk, making light conversation and sharing stories. you found yourself leaning into his side, subconsciously wanting to be closer to him.

“i have to admit, i’m really enjoying little women,” he said, glancing at you with a smile. “your annotations make it even better.”

“i’m glad you like it, it’s one of my favorites.” you replied, feeling your cheeks warm again.

after a few moments of comfortable silence, grayson turned to you, looking thoughtful. “you know, i’ve really enjoyed getting to know you these past few weeks. i wish we had done this sooner.”

“yeah, me too, i've been having a lot of fun." you said softly, meeting his gaze.

grayson smiled, and his hand brushed against yours. “i’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he began, coming off as hesitant for the first time in his life. “would you like to go out on a proper date sometime?”

you heart skipped a beat, and a smile spread across your face. “i’d love that.”

relief washed over his features, and his dimples were starting to make an appearance again. “are you available this saturday?”

you felt as if your words would fail you with the excitement you felt bubbling up in your stomach, so you simply nodded, mutters a small, “yeah, i am.” with a nod.

grayson was already thinking about all the places he’d take you and what you’d enjoy; he was going to make the most out of it. 

as you continued your walk, he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. the simple gesture alone made your heart soar.

“you know,” grayson said with a playful glint in his eye, “i never got to tell you my favorite part of the book.”

“oh?” you asked, slightly curious.

“it’s the little hearts you draw next to your favorite quotes,” he confessed, a hint of a blush on his cheeks. “i think it’s endearing.”

you laughed softly. “i didn’t realize you’d notice that.”

grayson slowed down his walking, coming to a stop and looking at you. “ i notice a lot of things about you.”

you felt your heart drop, like there was a whole zoo in your stomach. you felt yourself lean in, but you barely even registered it. you hesitated, unsure of how to respond, and he gently closed the distance and kissed you, his touch soft and unexpected. it was a brief, sweet kiss that made you feel like you were floating. 

when he pulled away, you both were smiling. 

you’d never get tired of those goddamn dimples.

[malacandrax]

sorry if this has been asked but how did you learn anatomy down to a T like you have??? I’m trying to teach myself and I’m feeling very stuck, but your art is a huge inspiration for me

Honestly I still struggle sometimes! But thank you for saying so! I think I am quite privileged that when I do studies they stick quite fast, I tend to remember things well when they’re visual. I think this is true more so now than in the beginning, because now it feels more like filling in a missing jigsaw piece, than…the whole jigsaw. Like oh that's how the wrist bone looks at that angle, I could add a little line to suggest that vs. oh my god what are arms how do they work.

I also just enjoy doing studies, which I think is maybe unusual! My sketchbooks are maybe a third studies from life or photos. I have done thousands! I see a pose I like and I want to draw it. Again, there’s a hump even with studies at the beginning that’s really hard to get over! It’s hard to stick with it when it’s not coming out how it’s supposed to, but the only way to get over it is to keep going tbh. 

I learn most from doing smaller gesture drawings from movies/other in motion things, but I have done my fair share of nudes especially at the beginning. I used to vary between kind of boring nudes and like, dance videos, copying animations, movies etc. Drawing a few frames of a motion is fun and you learn how the body moves.

I also think it's helpful to identify areas that need the most work, and that’s something I still do. For example I keep drawing arms and I know that I’m just making up the muscle at the top, so I will at some point either sit and study, or find photos while I am drawing said arm in picture and do it Right this time. I think using refs is a very good way to improve, like you don’t need to use them every time, but sometimes it’s good to try and make something look correct instead of making it up, and next time hopefully some of that knowledge is retained.

I answered a kind of similar ask here

Here's a kind of old study dump!

And some newer stuff- some of these are from films etc, and some are from life! I do kind of just study stuff a lot for fun.

obligatory promo to my patreon sfw tier where it all goes and it usually doesnt see the light of day

[songmingisthighs]

your child called txt 'dad'

group : txt

pairing : txt (individual) × single mom!reader

genre : fluff

wc : 2.4 k

warning : kids being kids and txt being txt don't talk to me i am so soft for soobin rn and this is the start of my descent into absolute insanity because what the fuck

a/n : aight i might open request for reactions for both txt and ateez but i might have to work some things out first bc this is hella fun ngl

buy me coffee ?

soobin

Your son was uncharacteristically quiet. Usually, when your boyfriend, Soobin, is around, he's a regular chatterbox but not this time. While you noticed it since the day before, Soobin noticed it the minute he walked through the front door and asked for his regular hug that your son gave half-heartedly. It didn't worry you but it saddened Soobin a lot because he truly loves the boy. However, since he was about to go on tour, the next day, he figured he had to be the adult and just try to work through the boy's sulkiness.

From the moment Soobin arrived, he was determined to make your son, his best bud, go back to his usual giggly self. Hours spent on different activities that started indoors with stupid board games to Soobin trying (and failing miserably) to copy Taehyun's card tricks, and even outdoors to get ice cream from the convenience store (which was an excuse because he totally forgot to buy a travel size toothpaste and he needed to buy one while he still remembered). But absolutely nothing seemed to make your son crack a smile, his lips were in a permanently pursed form and his eyebrows furrowed. It was an understatement to say that Soobin was devastated because while your son was out in the living room, you and Soobin scurried to the kitchen so the giant of a man could bury his face in your stomach and let out a muffled scream while you held yourself from squirming, squealing, or even punching him due to being ticklish.

"Did you have fun with Soobinnie today, bud?" you asked as you scooped some food on your son's plate before moving to scoop food for Soobin who was on the other side of your son while you were at the head of the table. You could see your son peeking at Soobin from his bangs momentarily before nodding, quietly eating his food. It was almost comical how you started the day with one boy pouting and now you have two boys at your dining table. The fact that they looked so similar was hecking adorable though.

"You know, Soobin really wanted to spend the day with you having fun because we're not going to see him for a while because he has a tour. Remember the last time Binnie went on tour? He wanted to be able to play with you before he left because he's going to miss you," you tried reasoning with your son, hoping to at least get him to crack and pay attention to Soobin. But much to your and Soobin's surprise, your son finally looked up at you and then at Soobin with tears streaming down his face and bottom lip quivering as his tiny nose sniffled, "I don't want daddy to go," he whimpered before wailing, arms outstretched at Soobin, asking to be held.

Immediately, Soobin took your son in his arms and hugged him tightly, looking at you with eyes swimming in emotion. He didn't know how to react nor what to react to first, the fact that your son didn't wanna see him off or the fact that your son called him dad. The rest of the night they refused to be separated and honestly you wouldn't be surprised if Soobin bought your son a ticket to visit him while he was on tour. Just your son though.

yeonjun

"How can you say no to this? Baby, we're gonna be fucking adorable!" Yeonjun shrieked, following after you who was trying to evade him by going to the kitchen. Your eyes widened and you instinctively turned around and slapped Yeonjun on his arm after he cussed. Yeonjun's eyes widened and he too turned around to see the 3-year-old in pigtails looking up at him with her adorable eyes. "I mean, freaking," he chuckled nervously.

Going back to you, Yeonjun fell to his knees and hugged your legs, preventing you from walking away. "Yeonjun," you huffed, looking down at him, "Let me go." But Yeonjun shook his head, "Not until you said yes to either one of my ideas," he demanded, glaring up at you with determination. "For the last time, we are not going as Shrek, Fiona, and the little green ogre baby to your company's Halloween party!" You exclaimed exasperatedly. "And I told you we can go as Marlin, Dory, and Nemo!" He argued back. As if on cue, your daughter trod over to you and hugged your legs like Yeonjun with a giggle, "Nemo!" She exclaimed, grinning widely. "See? The little miss gets me," Yeonjun said, winking at the girl before pecking her on her cheek.

You do think that the three of you would be adorable in a group costume and you do think it would just be the best to see Yeonjun and your daughter together. You might actually look like a family even though you're not.

"Wait, if we go by Nemo," Yeonjun squealed through sealed lips in excitement only to stop when you gave him a look, "Are you Marlin or Dory? Because Little miss there is mine so I should be Marlin, right?" "What? Of course not, you're Dory, duhh," Yeonjun scoffed as he got up, feeling like he won because you were indulging him in the conversation. "Why am I Dory?" "Because you forget things all the time? Like you still haven't gotten milk so this morning I ate my cereal with americano," the look on your face only made Yeonjun nod, "Yeah, it was disgusting." Hearing the word, your daughter chimed in as she shook her head, "Yucky 'sreal."

"Whatever. Because of that, I'm not going as Dory or even Fiona. I'm Marlin or bust," you huffed, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Yeonjun was about to say something when your daughter screeched, "Mommy, no! Mommy Dory, daddy Marlin!" her cheeks were puffed as she clung onto Yeonjun's leg to make a point, startling you. While you were surprised, Yeonjun was simply amused, liking the sound of her calling him dad. He scooped her in his arms and bounced her slightly, "See? Daddy's little munchkin said daddy's Marlin so, boohoo mommy," he cackled turning to make his way to the living room with your daughter, leaving you baffled in the kitchen.

beomgyu

As a demon child himself, Beomgyu understood how you couldn't find a babysitter for your own demon child on such short notice. So of course, without thinking (at all) twice, Beomgyu offered to watch the little ankle biter (literally, Yeonjun's leg still has the mark) until you're finished with... Whatever important thing you had to handle. You mumble a lot when Beomgyu's daydreaming and he doesn't know why you do that when you end up scolding him for not listening. Knowing that Beomgyu has a rather special and unusual effect on your son (aka he's the only one who's able to calm him down), you decided why the hell not.

Somehow Beomgyu had managed to convince your son that he had a treasure buried in his room and the broom would make a loud beeping noise once he found it. Safe to say your son has been diligently sweeping Beomgyu's room while he and Soobin played a computer game. At least he's still paying attention to the boy. "No, no! Buddy, we don't go in the closet because..." Beomgyu trailed off, trying to think about something that would prevent the boy from ransacking the whole thing, "You'll leave your scent and the monster from the closet dimension can track you down when you go home?" Even Soobin was paying attention to see if your son would buy his bullshit. Thankfully, the boy gasped and immediately scrambled to Beomgyu's lap, "No, not the monster!" he whined, hugging Beomgyu tightly as he buried his face on Beomgyu's shoulder. Beomgyu couldn't help but chuckle and pat the boy gently on the head, loving how adorable he was and how absolutely similar they both were. Then again your son is 3 and Beomgyu has the same mental age, so...

"For someone who's able to come up with that L-I-E," Soobin peered down to see if the boy could understand his spelling only to see him furrowing his eyebrows at Soobin, "You suck at thinking on your feet in this game," he pointed out. Beomgyu scoffed and kicked Soobin's chair slightly, "Because I got you as a teammate, you're a bum!" he said. Determined to prove the other wrong, Beomgyu and Soobin soon found themselves in a fierce one-on-one battle while the little boy was perched on Beomgyu's lap, slumping as if Beomgyu was a couch as he sipped on his juice box. His eyes were darting between Beomgyu, Soobin, and their laptops, the colours and the clicking sound absolutely hypnotized him.

It wasn't until Beomgyu screeched loudly that the boy even noticed that he had lost to Soobin who was sporting a very smug smirk on his face. "Face it dude, you suck," Soobin teased. Your son looked between the smirking Soobin and the sulking Beomgyu before he puffed up his cheeks and reached over to slap Soobin wherever his hand could reach. "Daddy don't suck, Binnie sucks!" he huffed loudly, snarling at the shocked giant. Hearing how your son called him dad and was defending him, Beomgyu's defeated look was changed to a satisfied grin. Knowing how successful his babysitting was, Beomgyu was determined to share every single bit of detail so he can rub his success on your face.

"Yah! Beomgyu, help! He's biting my arm!" Soobin shrieked.

Well, maybe he could spare some details.

taehyun

It was supposed to be date night for you two. You had planned it down to the underwear Taehyun was going to take off of you but your daughter got sick out of the blue. She was fine in the morning when you confirmed your date with Taehyun on the phone but an hour before Taehyun was supposed to arrive with Kai and Yeonjun, your daughter caught a fever. While it sucked for you, it sucked for the little girl too because she was promised a cupcake frosting station back at the dorm. You had been so busy with your daughter that you forgot to tell Taehyun until he came knocking on your door.

"Taehyun, are you sure this is okay?" you were on the verge of another breakdown, feeling bad for making Taehyun stay in and also feeling dejected that you didn't get to go somewhere without a playground. But Taehyun just smiled gently, placing his coat on the armrest of your couch before enveloping you in a hug, gently kissing the side of your head as he spoke gently, "Hey, the whole point of date night is spending time together, are we not doing that?" And with that, you broke down sobbing again because of how sweet he was being. "If you're gonna cry, go cry in the kitchen, I'll get her back to bed," before you could ask what he meant, a cough and a tiny voice called out for you, "Mama?" Immediately, Taehyun let you go and rushed over to scoop the girl into his arms, "Hey there cutie, I heard you're sick, huh?" Taehyun asked gently. At the question, your daughter nodded her head slowly as she looked at Taehyun before she peeked at you and looked back at Taehyun as if asking what was wrong with you. Taehyun simply smiled and shook his head, "Don't worry about mama, okay? Let me put you back in bed," he was about to carry her off to her room when she squirmed and shook her head with a pout on her face. Looking down, Taehyun saw your daughter pointing at your room with glassy eyes and quivering bottom lip. Chuckling, Taehyun nodded and brought her to your room where her blanket was laid out in the middle of your bed, putting her down and tucking her with a peck to her forehead.

After you regain your emotions, you manage to immediately jump to your daughter's aid with Taehyun. It was a good thing too because apparently a sick child is a two-person job and Taehyun counted as three on his own. It amazes you how he was able to take care of your daughter well, knowing just what to give her and how to get her to eat and stay still as you flush the snot out of her nose. Despite her crying, wailing, and kicking, Taehyun managed to stay calm the whole time and even gave your daughter little praises whenever she managed to do what she was asked to. By the end, your daughter was clinging onto Taehyun with a cold patch on her forehead, her head rested on Taehyun's sturdy chest and her mouth agape. You couldn't help but take a picture of the absolutely endearing sight.

It was around 8 o'clock when your daughter finally calmed down and you both realized that you hadn't eaten dinner yet. "You go change into something less snotty, maybe wash the puke off your hair, and I'll order us some food, how's that?" Taehyun teased. Though you rolled your eyes at him, you nodded and left with a peck to his lips. As a man with taste and consideration, Taehyun decided to order something for not only you two but something your daughter can also snack on in case she woke up hungry and didn't want to finish her porridge. Taehyun was in the middle of placing the order in the delivery app on his phone when he heard tiny sniffles and sobs coming from behind. He snapped his head back only to see your daughter sitting up and crying. Her hands were outstretched towards him and her fingers made grabby motions, asking to be picked up. "Papa," she whimpered. If the crying child didn't melt his heart, him being called papa absolutely crushed him.

When you came back from your short shower, you were surprised to see your daughter draped over Taehyun's chest with her blanket covering her body and Taehyun scrolling on his phone. Sensing the attention, Taehyun shifted his gaze to you and grinned with a finger to his lips, "I've ordered something for us but I think you might have to go get it later," he explained. When you got closer to them, Taehyun grabbed your hand gently and he grinned so wide you were afraid that his face was going to split in half, "And she called me papa," he giggled, feeling happy which made you feel happy for him too.

huening kai

Honestly, you don't know why you agreed to Kai's suggestion in the first place. It wasn't that you don't like being in public with him, especially with staff around and his band members running around everywhere because you do. His members are some of the funniest people you've ever met and his job requires him to always be with staff so you acclimated because you love him. The same goes for how he acclimated with you and your son. Kai is a person with a big heart, he just wanted to have the people he loved around and get along well. Which wasn't hard at all because your usually shy-with-strangers son was suddenly being carried like a sack of flour by Yeonjun and you didn't even have to worry because Kai was there telling his hyung to be careful.

Within an hour, the initial doubt about your attendance at TXT's jacket photoshoot was scrubbed clean off your mind. Sure, it wasn't the first time you all met together with your son, but you were there to witness them working. You thought your son was going to hinder the work there but as it turns out, the staff loves him. Moreover, the staff loves him with Kai who insisted on spending as much moving time as he could spare with your son. Not only him, but the rest of the members seemed to like your little boy. You could only grin at the sight of your son playing with the members whilst waiting for directions.

During their group shoots, your son would sit by your side with his legs tapping impatiently. Kai seemed to speak the same language as your son, somehow managing to get the boy to sit quietly until Kai told him he could move around. You wanted to know what exactly he said. While it would be very out of character, you couldn't help but conclude that it's most likely a form of threat. It's not that you were judging or restricting Kai, you wanted to know so you could use it too. But then again, you didn't want to disturb whatever they have, it's better that it's just between them.

One thing you noticed most was the way your son was so intrigued with the wardrobe. While he stuck by Kai's side like glue in general, you noticed how he seemed to be very interested in Kai's jacket. While Kai was retouching his makeup, your son would play around with the material; tugging on it gently, putting it over his head, and even slipping himself between Kai and the material. When Kai went over to do his solo shoots, your son could only follow after him and stood by, watching your boyfriend work in pure awe.

You seemed to have lost track of time and attention because before you knew it, you heard your son squealing and running to the set but this time with a jacket and hair styled similar to Kai's. You thought that people would be mad and that your boyfriend would scold your innocent little rascal. But he laughed and crouched down with arms opened wide, happily gathering your boy in his arms and spinning him around. "Look, I look just like daddy!" Your son giggled, showing off the jacket he was wearing whilst tugging on the jacket Kai was wearing. You must've only expected the worst-case scenarios because while you thought that Kai would be embarrassed, you only saw him beam and wave at the photographer, asking for a couple of shots of them together for his phone wallpaper.

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet

taglist :

@kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @memorymonster @thesolarplanetarysystem @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @noonaishere @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoonjunshi @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct @mirror-juliet @hyuckilstan @jayb17 @kpoplover718 @haatohwa @x-bluee @erinaimeexx @blackb3ll @mingiholic @angelicyeo @vampcharxter @meowmeowminnie @marvelous-llama @kawennote09 @hongjoong-lovebot @stopeatread @spooo00oky @jwnghyuns @cutie-wooyo @asjkdk @shinotani @aestheticsluut

@chloepurpy

[socra-time]

Socra’s Naruto liveblog, Ep. 61-70

Ep 61:

-I genuinely could not be less impressed by Kabuto as a villain

-lmao I like that Kiba is fully a Naruto fan now

-yeah I have no idea what the FUCK Naruto is gonna do to win this match because Neji is clobbering him like there’s no tomorrow

-ah yes, Naruto just “willpower”s his way through Neji’s supermove

-okay so I don’t agree with Neji trying to kill Hinata but I really wouldn’t mind if he killed Hinata's dad

-yeah uh FUCK the Hyuga clan and FUCK Hinata’s dad

-so obviously Neji’s story taking up such a big chunk of the episode makes sense narratively but within the context of the show itself, he’s just monologuing to Naruto for like 10 minutes lol

-wow Neji’s father’s death was some fucked-up shit

Ep 62:

-ohohoho really feeling the irony of this fight

-okay Hinata definitely doesn’t have a happy relationship with her dad, but Naruto saying she’s probably suffering as much as Neji is uh… incorrect

-Neji honey I’m so sorry, if you were fighting literally any of the less-important characters you would’ve won this fight

-Naruto is going APESHIT

-but also yes so true Naruto, please change the Hyuga clan and also beat up Hinata’s dad after becoming Hokage

-DAMN Naruto coming through with the uppercut

-between this fight and Naruto’s fight with Kiba, I’m really not sure how intelligent I’m supposed to think Naruto is because he’s supposed to be kinda stupid but he also is good at deceiving his enemies in fights????

-honestly for some reason I don’t feel super good about Naruto’s victory and I’m trying to figure out why. I think it’s because I’m not a fan of the “insane superpower MC has because they’re the Chosen One” trope that came into play with the Nine Tails chakra. Also I feel bad for Neji… but I guess in a philosophical sense he needed to lose this one to disprove his whole “fate” thing

Ep 63:

-awwww Naruto getting appreciation from the crowd was nice

-why didn’t Hinata’s dad give Neji the letter earlier???????

-nah it’s still FUCK the Hyuga clan

-also I still don’t like Hinata’s dad. I don’t care that he apologized to Neji and that Neji’s dad chose to die; he still talks about Hinata like she’s worthless and he just kinda let Neji suffer after his father’s death for almost a decade. Also he doesn’t seem to have done anything about how fucked-up his clan is

-god, knowing that Neji dies is making this episode HEARTBREAKING

-I know Kankuro withdraws for strategic reasons but also if I were him I would’ve withdrawn anyways because I am NOT fighting motherfucking Shino

Ep 64:

-the implication that Temari was just gonna clobber Shikamaru with her fan like a baseball bat if he hadn’t dodged her attack is pretty funny

-Shikamaru I like you but also I am side-eyeing you very hard right now. Gonna need Temari to beat the sexism out of you

-I love Ino she’s so silly

-why didn’t Temari just blast Shikamaru while he was thinking

-also why didn’t she just knock Shikamaru’s parachute out of the sky

-anyways good for Shikamaru but also I’m gonna need him to learn how to not be sexist

Ep 65:

-I don’t think I like Asuma’s voice

-I missed Lee so much, I’m glad he’s (kinda) back on his feet

-I love how some of the spectators are fully just betting on 12 year olds beating each other up

-also why is Naruto just allowed to be down on the field

-I don’t like Sasuke’s new outfit. Leave the onesies to Gai and Lee, Sasuke.

-Lee is really selling himself short, my poor son:(

-aaand Gaara’s kill count increases once again

Ep 66:

-time for the ultimate edgelord-off

-I feel bad for Sakura, Kakashi’s kinda been neglecting her

-I fear Lee is better than me because if Sasuke just copied the techniques I worked for literal years to develop I would be PISSED

-noooo Kiba you were so close to figuring it out-

-god the sharingan is so broken

-Gaara used “Harden”! It was super effective!

Ep 67:

-oh boy shit’s gonna go down this episode

-well damn Sasuke can lightningbend now I guess

-okay so Kakashi says he taught Sasuke the chidori because “he’s like me”. The question is how? Just because he’s really good at fighting and has a lot of chakra? Like yeah they both have the sharingan but that doesn’t seem to be related to the chidori????

-Gai and Kakashi need to stop throwing shade at each other and kiss already

-sometimes the animators draw Sasuke’s side bangs really thick and long and it looks so weird

-geez so I know I said it was off-putting to see Gaara look shaken when Lee took his weights off but hearing him screaming is a whole other level

-the sound design seriously popped off this episode

-aaaaaand shit’s going down

Ep 68:

-goddammit I think I finally have to admit that I was wrong about the Hokage being sus

-geez Gaara is really going through it

-anyways I totally called the Kazekage being Orochimaru in disguise. It took me a couple episodes but I figured it out. Also what happened to the real Kazekage?????

-god Orochimaru’s theme goes so hard

-I love how Kakashi tells Sakura to wake up Naruto and Shikamaru but doesn’t say anything about Choji or Ino

Ep 69:

-I kinda love Pakkun

-yes go Shino, go get your screentime

-I have seen WAY too much of Orochimaru’s tongue already

-so Orochimaru can just casually do necromancy???????????????????????

-so I’m guessing the third person Orochimaru summoned would have been the Fourth Hokage then

Ep 70:

-the animation of everyone jumping through the trees is so funny

-why didn’t the squad just have Naruto send out a bunch of clones to throw their pursuers off their trail

-I like the derpy-looking face on the back of Pakkun’s vest

-oh shit Asuma to the rescue! It’s nice to see one of the other senseis kicking some ass

-(for a moment I was excited at the potential for seeing Kurenai also kick some ass but then I remembered that she’s a woman and therefore is not allowed)

[slt4kavanagh]

hey queen..it’s me again

anyways yk how in (i think) K13 Johnny tells Hughie he wants a little girl

yeah well I need girl dad! Johnny as a fic

immediately (jk no rush take your time 🫶)

Maybe it can be in like readers POV and her thoughts as she watches Johnny interact with their daughter and how it maybe heals her inner child in some way

(i hope that makes sense queen im so sorry if it doesn’t it’s almost 1 am where i live and im lowkey sleep deprived)

ok that’s all i’ll leave you alone…for now

all the softness he saved for her

pairing: johnny kavanagh x fem!reader

tw: none

a/n: if my releasing 10 copy doesn’t get shipped to my house soon i’m actually gonna end it because at this point i might as well manufacture it myself.

masterlist !

you remember the moment you found out you were pregnant—not because it was dramatic, but because everything felt slower, heavier, and somehow sharper all at once. the stick sat on the bathroom counter, nearly forgotten, and yet you kept glancing at it like it was some sort of secret code you couldn’t quite crack.

when you told johnny, he was halfway through a text, the rugby match paused on the telly behind him. you weren’t sure how he’d take it. you’d imagined a dozen reactions—shock, joy, panic—but none of those quite matched what you saw.

his eyes went wide. he dropped his phone. for a moment, he just stared at you like you were the only thing in the room. then he laughed—a little shaky, a little unsure. “you’re serious?”

you nodded, heart thudding, and that was the first time you saw the mix of everything in him—the fear, the hope, the overwhelming love.

he stood up and pulled you into a hug that felt like trying to hold onto something fragile. “our girl,” he whispered. “we’re gonna have a daughter.”

you didn’t say anything then. just let the quiet settle between you both. it was real now.

over the next weeks, you watched him change in small ways. the way he talked about ‘our baby’ like he could already feel her in his arms, even though she wasn’t born yet. how he read books he barely understood, fingers tracing the words slowly, like trying to memorize them so he wouldn’t mess up.

there was the night he came home late, tired from training, but still sat with you on the couch, wrapping an arm around your belly like he was introducing himself to someone new.

“she’s gonna have your eyes,” he said quietly. “and your stubbornness too, probably.”

you smiled, resting your head against his shoulder. “and your temper.”

he laughed, squeezing you gently. “yeah, well, maybe she’ll learn from the best.”

you thought about the childhood you never really had—the parts you missed, the people who weren’t there—and how johnny’s presence was already patching up old wounds you hadn’t known were still open.

sometimes, you caught him just staring at your stomach, a softness in his gaze that made your chest ache. he’d run a hand lightly over your bump and say things like, “can’t wait to meet you, princess.”

but underneath the excitement, there was a quiet fear too. you saw it in the way he sometimes fell silent when you talked about the future, in the tension in his jaw, the way he rubbed his hands together when no one was looking.

one night, you asked him what he was thinking.

“what if i mess it up?” he said honestly, voice low.

you reached for his hand. “you won’t. just be you. that’s enough.”

he looked at you like he’d never heard anything so reassuring.

the birth was long and harder than you’d imagined. johnny was by your side the whole time, never leaving, his hand never letting go of yours. he whispered your name like it was a prayer, rubbing your back and kissing your forehead when the pain got too much.

when she finally came, tiny and wailing, the world shifted.

johnny’s eyes filled with tears as they placed her in your arms. he was silent, overwhelmed, as if he was afraid to breathe too loud and break the moment.

he leaned down, kissing her soft cheek, then looked up at you, voice cracking. “she’s perfect.”

and in that moment, you knew you’d never be the same.

watching him hold her—the way he gently rocked her, whispered nonsense, and kissed her sleepy head—was like seeing a new part of him come alive. the fierce rugby player was now a fierce protector of this tiny girl, and somehow that healed pieces of you you didn’t know were still hurting.

you saw yourself in their little family, a whole new story beginning.

and for once, the future didn’t seem so scary.

⸻

it’s a tuesday morning. the sun’s just coming up, soft and golden through the window, and you hear johnny’s voice from the nursery—low, warm, patient.

“come on now, princess, it’s time to wake up.”

you peek in to see him rocking her gently, his big hands carefully holding her like she’s made of glass. she’s half-asleep, eyes fluttering open, tiny fingers curling around his thumb.

johnny grins, tired but happy. “look at you, ready to take on the day, are ya?”

she lets out a little coo, and he laughs quietly, kissing her temple. “yeah, that’s my girl.”

later, he’s teaching her how to crawl on the living room floor. his knees scrape the hardwood, and he makes silly noises to get her attention.

“c’mon, come to daddy,” he says, voice soft but encouraging. she wiggles forward, eyes wide with wonder, and johnny’s face lights up like the world’s been made just for her.

“that’s it! good girl, keep goin’.”

you watch from the doorway, heart swelling. this isn’t just a dad and daughter moment—it’s healing, a kind of magic that stitches up the cracks from your own childhood.

one evening, johnny’s holding her after bath time, wrapped in a fluffy towel. she’s gripping his hair with her little fists, babbling nonsense words. he’s so focused on her, you can see the exhaustion fading, replaced by pure adoration.

“you talkin’ to me, princess? what’re you sayin’, eh?” he smiles, voice playful but soft.

she squeals, and he laughs, the sound warm and steady, a promise in the dark.

then there’s the bedtime routine—johnny’s reading her favourite story, his voice gentle and steady. when she starts to drift off, he hums a lullaby, his arms holding her close, rocking slowly.

you catch his eye from the doorway, and there’s that look again—deep love, fierce protectiveness, and something like wonder that maybe, just maybe, this little girl is the best thing that’s ever happened to him.