#i want to just print off both draft one and what i have so far of draft two and like

[zeawesomebirdie]

Oh my god okay hi i havent been online bc ive been reading On Writing by Stephen King and omg okay, i feel so much better about my drafts now

[manicrouge]

John Price and your hobbies

[𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝]: 823

I can imagine that Price is one of those people who just embrace everything that you love- why? Because he loves you of course! He loves to see you happy and he knows well that embracing your interests is the easiest way to your heart; all you have ever wanted is someone who likes what you do and he makes it his mission to fulfil that desire.

You're trying out a new recipe while baking sweets? Best believe he will be there helping you taste test every single flavour you make, and when you ask for his honesty, he will give you it. But he will say so softly, he won't try and ruin what you've made, not at all!

Think that needs a little more sugar, love.

Or, when you take up the hobby of writing, he will sit there in the living room, reading quietly while you're curled next to him with your head resting on his lap with your laptop open on the draft you printed just for him to read. And he will read it; he knows how much work you've been putting into what you're writing and he has a genuine admiration for anything you put your mind to. He thinks you're one of the smartest people he has ever met!

I don't know if it's good enough.

Seems pretty fuckin' good to me, sweetheart. My pretty talented girl, eh?

And when he's out on missions, he keeps drafts of what you've written on him for whenever he gets a moment of rest. Being unable to have contact with you for a while is brutal, though, he knows you're always with him in the words you have poured your heart into. You live through your art and your art lives through the articulation of you.

Not to mention when you decide to open a small business, nothing big, to sell art prints and stickers of your drawings... oh my goodness, this man cannot get enough of your creativity. To see you making art so freely and producing it for him to keep is a blessing. You make a new sticker? He'd buy you out of stock just to see you smile (also for his equipment back at the base... he's comfortable enough to rock your dainty flower stickers on the hilt of his knifes).

The fuck is that, Cap'n?

My girl made it, you want one for your throwin' knife?

And when you take up gaming with some of your friends, he'll sit on the sofa, sometimes having you sitting on his lap as you sit with a headset on your head, looking at the TV. It's some shooting game they persuaded you to try, and he sits with an amused look on his face, watching you kill the enemy, the occasional scoff or squeal of frustration escaping you when you get shot.

And when it comes to gun customisation on the game?

He has got you covered!!

Wouldn't it just be better if you could put a suppressor on a shotgun though... like, imagine how effective that would be.

You're overly passionate about this, love.

Yeah, well, you are underly passionate about this and this is something you do for work.

You will have the best gun in the game, and you'll sit with him even when your friends aren't online, listening to him giving you orders while playing- in true Captain fashion, of course. And, he even goes as far as buying an extra controller so he can play the game with you (also to beat you; the pair of you have a competitive streak and he isn't beyond using his expertise to frustrate you).

His heart especially melts when you seek interest in his hobbies and what he likes to do during his time off work. Even if you're not fond of his music, while he's away, you will walk around the house while cleaning with Led Zeppelin and Slipknot at full blast.

You been listenin' to my playlist while I've been gone?

Might've; I want more recommendations.

His eyes light up whenever he hears you humming a familiar tune whenever you're cooking or writing- doing anything, and he'll take a moment to just stand there and observe you with a smile on his face.

And you also both have an agreement with one another that, when he's away, you can with the TV shows the pair of you started together, although, you never do. If you ever want to, you'd rather watch the last episode the pair of you watch over and over again before ever thinking of committing such a crime.

It's the small things in your relationship, even living in the absence of one another that make everything so special, and the intimacy of something as little as interest is the one thing that has the pair of you falling head over heels for all each other over and over again <3

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

[pablitosgf]

𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐓 ! — jb05

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ! — jude bellingham x fem!reader

𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎 ! — in which you surprise jude with a special vacation.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ! — nothing!!

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ! — this has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHS! even before i posted on this blog. so i hope y'all love it. btw i wrote this before he turned to the big 20 thats why it says 19. <3

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓 ! — writing

As you sat in your office chair, you couldn't help but smile as you thought about your anniversary with Jude. You had met him back in grade 11, and now he was a professional football player while you were studying to become a pediatrician one day. You had always wanted to have children, but of course, not at the moment. You and Jude were only 19 and had graduated high school a year ago. However, you had it all planned out – from engagement to marriage, pregnancy, and kids – for the future.

But for now, you needed to focus on finding the perfect anniversary gift for your beloved boyfriend of four years. You didn't want to give him something too basic, but you knew that he had always wanted to visit the Bahamas. Unfortunately, with his hectic schedule, there had never been a good time to make the trip. As you brainstormed ideas, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the time you had spent with Jude so far and excited for all the adventures that lay ahead for the two of you.

"That's it!" you exclaimed, a grin spreading across your face. "I'll surprise him with plane tickets for a week in the Bahamas. He has the whole next week off, so it's perfect timing." You couldn't wait to see the look on Jude's face when you told him.

With the apartment to yourself for a few hours due to his training, you quickly went to your laptop and booked a flight from Dortmund to the Bahamas. As you clicked "confirm" on the booking page, your heart raced with excitement. You knew that this trip would be a lifetime experience for the both of you, and you couldn't wait to share it with Jude.

After printing out the tickets, you headed to the store to pick up a fancy box and some accessories to go with it. As you were putting the finishing touches on your surprise, you heard the doorbell ring. Your heart racing with excitement, you ran to the door to greet Jude.

"Baby, you're finally here!" you exclaimed, barely containing your excitement. "I know we were supposed to exchange presents after our date, but I just can't wait any longer."

Jude raised his eyebrows, intrigued by your eagerness. "I can't wait to see what you've got for me," he said, leaning in to give you a light kiss.

You took his hand and led him to the box you had prepared, a huge grin on your face. Jude looked at you with a mix of confusion and anticipation as you urged him to open it. "Just open it," you said, barely able to contain your excitement.

Jude eagerly unlatched the box to reveal the tickets inside. At first, he looked confused, but as he examined them more closely, his eyes widened in disbelief. "What is this?" he asked, his voice filled with astonishment.

"You're joking, right?" he exclaimed, unable to believe his luck. But as he looked at you and saw the excitement written all over your face, he knew that this was real.

“You've always talked about how much you wanted to go," you said, smiling at him. "So I thought, why not make it happen?"

Jude's response was immediate - he wrapped his arms around you and began showering you with kisses all over your face, murmuring countless "thank yous" in your ear.

“You're welcome, my love," you said, feeling your heart swell with happiness.

You woke up to an enthusiastic and energetic Jude. "Come on, babe, get up!" Jude exclaimed, pulling your arm. You groaned and tried to resist, but Jude's excitement was contagious.

"Ugh, I'm too tired. Let me sleep," you complained, sinking back into the bed.

"No way! We have to get ready," Jude insisted.

"I just wanna sleep…" you muttered groggily.

"What did you say?" Jude asked, looking confused.

"Nothing," you replied, shaking your head and trying to shake off your sleepiness.

You posted a story on your Instagram and now you were sitting at the gate, waiting for the plane. You let out a sigh of boredom, and Jude noticed. "Hey, do you want to play chopsticks?" he asked.

You looked at him quizzically, "What's chopsticks?"

Jude was taken aback, "What?! How do you not know what chopsticks is?"

You just shrugged, which earned a loud puff from Jude.

"Fine, I'll teach you," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. He explained the rules and how to play, but you made snarky remarks here and there, calling it "boring" and "not fun." Jude being Jude, responded with a sassy retort.

As Jude turned his head to you, he exclaimed, "We're actually here!" His lips barely missed yours as he spoke, and you couldn't help but smile at his excitement.

"Of course, my love," you replied, returning the almost-kiss with a soft one of your own. "I'm so happy we're finally here in the Bahamas together." You intertwined your fingers with his, feeling the warmth of his hand as you headed towards the exit, eager to start your week-long adventure in paradise.

[mrs-theirin]

quilllllll! hi, hello, i simply had to let you know that i've been slowly but surely re-re-rereading the road, the hidden truth, and you, and first of all, gorgeous, beautiful, touching, magnificent, imagine a rainstorm of chefs kisses raining down uponst you <3 but i got curious and had to ask...are there any cut scenes/fun facts/behind the scenes special features you might want to share with the class? 🥺 hehehe i just know /i/ always end up having a bunch of stuff like that once a project's done, and i'd LOVE to hear any juicy tidbits you've got!!! :P (either way, had to remind you how gorgeous this - AND ALL YOUR OTHER WRITING - is!)

we are somehow on the same wavelength as i was rereading it myself when i got this ask.....i'm onto you queenie......

all jokes aside THANK YOU i am always blown away when you compliment my writing, truthfully, it means the absolute world to me and i'm glad you enjoy what i put out. from the bottom of my heart, your support is greatly, greatly appreciated

that being said. well. as far as fun facts go. one fun fact is that this was barely my idea. that's well known at this point i think but you can thank @merrybandofmurderers for originally giving me the idea of a fake dating, roadtrip au. second fun fact is that i winged the HELL out of this fic. 19 years old staying up (apparently, since i checked the outline???) till 5 in the morning trying to get it done. winged the hell out of it. i had a broad idea, but i built the chapters based off of da2 quest names. so like. i had almost nothing planned. i took a da2 quest title i liked and built a modern au plot around it. great idea i think. poor execution LMFAO

no cut scenes or anything due to the rushed and unorganized nature of the original draft. there are things that i cut from the original in my rewrite, but that's because i felt like they weren't serving a real purpose. i also was super excited to change it so it was modern au but with elves and kirkwall and all that stuff. does it make sense orzammar is in new york? no. do i care? also no

i have been intending to write a follow up ever since the ORIGINAL story, but it just hasn't felt right yet. i know i want to do it. and i really hope i will do it. but for now it will stay in my drafts, lovingly titled "trthtay superbowl follow up". between that and the eden/varric wedding at skyhold fic, we could place a bet on which one gets finished first! (psst, it's probably the wedding fic. i've written more for that. unrelated but maybe expect that? soon? ish? don't hold me to that)

anyway, i'd say the biggest thing is that trthtay was my "i can do better" fic, truthfully. i was STUNNED when it got on a screenrant article (before it was even finished too?), i mean, i still have my section printed out in my dresser. it was exciting. but to see so many eyes on something i didn't think was of the quality i'd like it to be was stressful. i wanted to be great. i wanted the thing that so many people saw from me to be groundbreaking. and i really didn't feel like it hit that mark. i don't even think the rewrite hits that mark! there are things that i've written that i feel are better than both. but, there's a bright side to everything, and that's that even what i would consider one of my worse fics was loved. it was loved. it was enjoyed. not only by the author of that article (david caballero, there's nowhere i can message you on that site, but if you ever see this, thank you so so much) but by everyone who decided to click the link and give it a try. by YOU, one of my biggest inspirations and someone whose writing i aspire to match someday. i cannot thank you enough (you, personally, queenie, and you, plural, anyone who's read my writing) for giving me a chance and pushing me to be better

so. anyway. i'm sure you didn't expect your question to get an emotional response, but i think any conversation about trthtay comes back to that. to hope. to gratitude. it truthfully blows my mind that you love it the way you do. thank you thank you thank you. i'm glad i have you in my corner :)

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #73

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction - practically first drafts - posted daily and sometimes written with the express intention of being terrible… but, you know, in an endearing way.

This is a follow-up to The Prom Consort (Brain Curd #22) - read that first!

Do you ever get the feeling you’re needed but not wanted? Lately, for me, it’s more than a feeling.

Claudia and Brie (though mostly Claudia) explained that they were angling for spots as prom royalty, and competition was fierce. If they wanted the votes, they needed to “make a splash” with something no one at our school had ever seen before: a triad. Or a ‘throuple’ as some are inclined to call it. Who could resist the idea of school staff scrambling to get a third crown for the prom consort? It’s too funny to pass up.

“What’s in it for me?” I asked, not bothering to swallow my chewed broccoli first. “Actually, better question - what’s in it for both of you?”

“Well…” Claudia said, “In case you’ve been living under a rock…”

“Stairs, actually.” I pointed up.

“… There’s a scholarship up for grabs. The richest guy in town is funding it. Five thousand dollars each to the prom king and prom queen.”

“Doesn’t sound like there’s any room there for me.” I ate another scoop of rice. “Or you for that matter, if there’s gotta be a king.”

“It sure doesn’t.” Brie shot a dirty look at Claudia. “But that’s just what’s on the posters. In the small print, it says five thousand each to all the prom royalty. Not ‘both’ and not gender-specific. Probably because they’re offering it to the prince and princess too.”

“So what you’re saying is, if we pull this off, we walk away with five grand each?” I pursed my lips and nodded. “Interesting.”

“Yes!” Claudia clapped her hands and giggled.

“And all I have to do is walk around holding hands with the two of you where everyone can see?”

“That’s right!” She bounced on her feet. “Are you in?”

“No.” I took another bite of my lunch. In the corner of my eye I could see how deflated she was by that simple utterance. It was delicious.

“Why not?”

“It sounds far-fetched to me, honestly.” I pointed my chopsticks at her. “And you know I don’t like that kind of attention. The money is nice, sure, but it’s no guarantee. Why go through all of that pageantry for what’s essentially a lottery ticket?”

Brie huffed. “I wouldn’t have agreed to this either, but there’s a power vacuum at the top. I have inside knowledge from the cheerleading squad. Chad and Stacy broke up this morning.”

I tilted my head. “No kidding?”

“It’s anyone’s game at this point.”

Chad and Stacy were the darling couple of the whole school. They’d been favorites for prom king and queen since they got together in freshman year. If they were no longer an item, that meant the couple with the best gimmick could easily win. And what better gimmick than being more than a couple?

I stood up and crossed my arms over one another to shake both their hands at the same time - my right hand to Brie and my left to Claudia. “I’m in.”

Being needed isn’t so bad, really. There’s good job security in that.

[blysse-and-blunder]

in lieu of a commonplace book: holiday edition

monday, dec 5, 2022 ~ 9pm ----> thursday, dec 22, 2022 ~ 4pm  ---->

                                      saturday, dec 24, 2022 ~ 4pm

i’ve had this one languishing in drafts for so long that it’s now a holiday ilcb! stay warm out there, get yourself something nice to drink and light a candle or two or three, i am sending you a hug and a far-too-long post.

reading brrr what did i just finish. when i first drafted this post it was wintering by katherine may. fine premise, i generally accept her point about life inevitably having periods of winter and learning from them. i like the creativity of her different chapter topics. i am tepid to cool about the mix of research and creative writing, mostly because it wasn’t as scientific as i would have liked, and the bits of memoir turned me off at first. i’ve been reading more nonfiction the last few weeks, so i’m also here to report that index, a history of by dennis duncan was quite entertaining for being a book about a piece of book apparatus, and it will probably be a source of many good party facts for the next few months. i began listening to it as an audiobook though, and i must say the melifluous narrator’s voice was a) very entertaining because he had a really hard time with the latin and b) did his best with the fact that many of the examples in a book about indexes (indices?) were just lists of things and page numbers. switching back to print was a good move, imho.

book of the month and possible new entry in my top ten of the year, though, was the goblin emperor by katherine addison, which housemate G gave me as an early christmas present and which was absolutely my shit, between the shakespearean language and the shakespearean court intrigue. the emotional weight of a character shifting from the formal ‘we’ to the informal ‘i’ midsentence! the gradual building of a totally new world and language system! all the supporting cast coming to love the main character in ways that he can’t quite believe but which are clear to the reader! it reminded me of the best bits of the hands of the emperor in that way, and it ranks alongside that one as far as being ‘books that i didn’t want to end.’ the name of the ‘untheileneise’ court is evocative of ‘unseelie’, ever so slightly, and the flavor combination of reading this while also watching the d20 show mentioned below has been delectable.

watching couple of different contenders for this topic, surprisingly, between continuing to watch bossam: steal the fate with @hematiterings​ and fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood with @hematiterings​ and @pep-squad-lizzie​, and having watched crouching tiger, hidden dragon and 20 minutes of a random episode of the white lotus on the plane, or now having been at my parents’ for a minute having started enjoying miss scarlet and the duke and three pines with them. on my own, though, it’s been dimension 20-- i bought a year’s subscription for myself as a present, and the entire visual and storytelling aesthetic of a court of fey and flowers has been hitting so right. i love aabria’s dm style, i thought this during exandria unlimited too (and i just did a cursory search of ilcb posts to make sure i haven’t said this already?? if i have please forgive me)-- there’s a richness and glitter to her narration and the details she chooses to highlight. and everyone in this group is doing such a great job, i’m in ep 2 ‘the great hart hunt’ right now and just, the different strategies each of the characters has selected to solve the puzzle, the combination of more court intrigue with humor and whatever earnest emotion peeps out sometimes, plus the slightly-different-but-equally-creative take on goblins from brennan and k.p. hobb here as opposed to the goblin emperor (they both have emotive ears!) is very good to me, personally.

listening mostly podcasts, if i’m honest. i put on an 8-hours-of-gentle-christmas-carols yule log youtube video today, but really i’ve been listening most to the WBUR podcast last seen when doing dishes or cooking or otherwise getting the streets of this city back under my feet. the episode on the jewel heist is where i started, while the one on chinese pie / pâté chinois and the franco-american/quebecois in new england gave me an emotion. this evening, though, there will be christmas music and yes that is a threat.

playing more stardew (while enjoying fey and flowers in the other window) but i’ve decided i can start a new game for a new year! while i work out how to download things from the itch.io bundle i bought literally two years ago, and scroll through the under $10 section on steam’s sale, recommendations are welcome. things i’m intrigued by: spiritfarer! a dragon age? i do not have a gaming laptop, a desktop computer, or a good gaming rig in any sense, and i will be choosing based entirely on Vibes (art / music / tone / narrative / writing etc), but input and suggestions are always welcome! also i tried to teach my dad 2048 and it went about as well as i could have hoped. also i asked for a zelda DS game for christmas like it’s 2013.

making there was a lot that could have gone into this section over the last few weeks, if i’d posted it when i initially started thinking about it-- i hung a poster! remounted a shelf! and now have dried orange slices for last-minute ornaments and made many (MANY) molasses-ginger cookies, and am in the process of mulling apple juice (california apparently not believing in proper cloudy apple cider). we’re travelling to see family the day after boxing day, so any real holiday baking will probably happen once we’re there, rather than being made now and then having to be frozen or eaten all in a rush-- so nothing to report on the bread / pie / candy front. yet. CIDER UPDATE: it tastes like hot apple juice. luckily irish coffee is also an option now.

working on but it’s christmas! i hear you cry. yes, and all free time is time you could be working on your journal piece, i reply. i’ve also been grinding through RAship hours before the end of the year, even though my contract continues until the end of april, because the more i can get done now the easier the spring will be. also i’m reading some diss chapters for a friend (self-serving also because his topic is close enough to mine that i can call this research!) and working on a letter of support for a prof who’s been good to me over the years and who is up for a teaching award. my journal piece is a cleaned-up version of a talk i gave, so really it’s a question of prettying-up the footnotes and inserting better citations, and trying to make it Good Enough while not too different / not rewriting it entirely. what does this actually look like? hell if i know, but unless someone gets back to me about image permissions it’s a moot point anyway. happy new year to me.

[caramariafilm]

A TIGHT SPOT - Secondary Role for Film Workshop

CREATING THE PRODUCT - JOLLYBAR

For the JollyBar, I came up with the idea of buying Yorkie bars and covering them with my design, that way I’d have the shape and weight of the chocolate bar without having to construct it myself! So, I printed out my second draft of the JollyBar and used some clear, sticky plastic wrap to attach my design onto the chocolate bar.

Here was my first attempt, obviously the Nestle and the cut off ‘ORIGINAL’ would have to be covered. That being said, for my first attempt I was pretty chuffed. The colouring matched up perfectly and the size was exactly what I was looking for, with the print out getting close to the colour I wanted too. The plastic wrap also added a shine to the paper so I didn’t have to worry about the textures not matching.

After this, I figured out that adding a larger blue background to the JollyBar meant I’d be able to cut to the exact shape I needed to cover the Yorkie.

Here is that design:

I also added the ‘Luca’s!, cleaned up the text a bit so it was neater, and upped the saturation as printing it out decreased the vibrancy.

Luca asked if I could make multiple JollyBars, and at this point we both thought that having the JollyBars in a matching cardboard box that would slot either underneath the counter or next to it.

At this point, I started working away at making the JollyBar’s :)

I kept the information at the back and sides as this was just extra information that would make the bar look more realistic, however won’t have a closeup shot so doesn’t matter if it it’s slightly distorted! Once I got the hang of making these, it was super easy to recreate them as I had made a system.

After making 10 of the JollyBars, I got to making this box. Vanessa picked up a box for me to cover in the JollyBar logo.

This was SO helpful!! Like unbelievably so, made my job so so much easier. I printed out the same design as my chocolate bar and stuck them onto the front and sides.

The JollyBar’s fit perfectly into the box, with one bar fitting nicely on top making it easier for the actor to grab.

I was honestly really really happy with the chocolate bars. It’s one of the things I’m proudest about so far :) they look super realistic and I think my design just works perfectly with the aesthetic.

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #109

(taken january 31st, uploading surveys taken while gone... we're at least over halfway done? haha)

Have you ever gotten your legs waxed? No, that sounds absolutely excruciating, especially when your hair is as thick and long as mine is. Waxing my lip and eyebrows back in the day hurt enough.

Have you ever read anything by Edgar Allen Poe? Yeah, The Raven and The Tell-tale Heart off the top of my head.

Do you know anyone named Hunter? I do; he was my neighbor when I lived in the woods (I think where I've lived most of my life so far), and we used to play together as kids a lot. I'm quite a bit older than him, but he was still fun to hang out with, especially when it came to catching bugs and stuff and playing video games. He's all grown up now with his own girlfriend. :')

What was the reason for the last time you restarted your computer? Oh I was SO annoyed, Roman walked on my keyboard and did something where the computer totally, completely froze, and I was deep into an RP post so I was furious. Had to restart it incorrectly, but THANK GOD the drafts function on the site saved my post, lol.

Can you say anything in Korean? If so, please do: Nah, I can't.

Do you like horses? I absolutely love horses and I am VERY much looking forward to photographing horses soon thanks to a friend. <3

What are your grandfathers’ names? William/Bill and... WOW I'm awful, I don't remember Dad's dad's name. :/

Were you forced to read The Odyssey in high school? Yes; maybe not all of it, but I at LEAST remember reading some. We also watched the movie.

Have you ever seen a snake in real life? Yeah, both in the wild and as pets. I currently have one and love her to death.

Are you against seances? I don't care. I DO believe in treating the dead with respect though, if you're gonna do that; we don't have the slightest idea what really happens after death and I definitely do believe in angry spirits and their ability to loosely interact with our reality, so I wouldn't tempt shit, just to be safe.

Do you own any superhero shirts? No. I only have a couple Harley Quinn ones.

Game you were best at in P.E./gym? I absolutely hated P.E., so nothing.

Favorite crystal? Dragon's breath opal.

What did you learn from your first job? I am an absolutely horrible salesperson.

Favorite website from your childhood? Webkinz.

Least favorite flavor of food or drink? Cranberry flavored drinks are so awful I literally cannot drink them. I also don't like really fishy foods.

Least favorite pattern? Uh... I'm not sure. I'm not big on like, animal print as a fashion thing I guess. I love cool patterns ON the animals, of course, but not elsewhere.

Favorite weird flavor combo? I absolutely love waffles that also have a layer of peanut butter on them, like I prefer it over only syrup.

Favorite potato food? French fries.

Earth tones or jewel tones? Oh, come on, that's hard! It really depends.

Do you call them fireflies or lightning bugs? I've used both, but I think I only ever said "lightning bug" as a kid.

Writing or drawing? I get more joy out of creating a drawing I'm proud of, but I'm much more likely to write.

Lamps, overhead lights, fairy lights, or sunlight? FAIRY LIGHTS!!!! For Christmas I got this "tree" that you can wind across your wall(s) that have little tiny light bulbs as its "foliage" and I cannot wait til we can move my bed and set it up because that shit is ALWAYS gonna be on.

Nicknames? "Britt" is the most common one that everyone uses. Online though, "Ozz(y)" is frequented bc of the username I usually use. In WoW, everyone in my main's guild know me as "Alessa" because my main character is Alessand(a)ra. Oh, and my childhood nickname from Mom is "Twinkie" lmfao, she gave all her children sweets nicknames. She still uses it sometimes. Girt's pointed out he wants to have the "perfect" nickname click for me one day, which I think is absolutely adorable, but he can't pick one.

How many phone numbers do you have memorized? I have only JUST memorized my mother's phone number, and that's it. It took months upon months of regularly giving it to doctors and stuff to learn and as terribly sad as this is, I'm literally PROUD of myself for finally internalizing a phone number.

Do you prefer heroes or villains? Villains, duh.

What political cause are you most passionate about? Proooobably LGBTQ+ rights. I just find it so, so remarkably hard to fathom how people are against people consensually being in love.

Have you ever considered having children? I've never considered it for like, that current moment, but I go back and forth about the future.

Have you ever considered acting? Nope.

Who was the last person you slept next to? Girt.

Do you think you can be in love and still cheat on your S.O.? No, I don't.

What is the most embarrassing thing anyone has on video of you? Oh who even knows.

Did you ever get lost as a child? Yeah, in a Food Lion I think? Maybe Wal-Mart? An old lady helped me find my mom.

What was the last dream you had? I had a newborn baby is all I can remember. I forgot it until I read this question.

What is the best television show you’ve ever watched? Extraordinary Attorney Woo had the most touching story to me.

What do you believe is your weirdest habit? I take my breakfast biscuits apart to eat each thing individually.

What color are your parents’ eyes? They both have brown eyes.

Have you ever had a surgery before? Yeah, tubes put in my ears and a pilonidal cyst removed. I'm also being put to sleep to get my wisdom teeth taken out; there's simply no fucking way I can stay calm through it with my newfound fear of the dentist. I very barely stayed calm during my last filling.

Would you rather visit the Taj Mahal or the Eiffel Tower? Taj Mahal.

Was your mom over 30 when she had you? Yes.

Who is your 4th phone contact and how do you know them? Dad, and well... he's my dad.

Have you ever lived in a dorm? No.

Do you live in an apartment? No.

What’s the story behind your most noticeable scar? I passed out in the bathroom directly onto my chin.

Have you ever SERIOUSLY considered any kind of plastic surgery? I am very serious about getting loose skin removal on at LEAST my stomach if/when I lose all the weight I want to, and a breast lift also because of the effects of extreme weight loss.

What was the last thing you cleaned and why? My desk, because it was quite the mess.

Does blood make you queasy? No.

What physical features can you just not stand about yourself? My weight in literally every part of my body. How dark and thick and obvious my leg hair is. Cellulite and stretch marks. How insanely dry my skin is everywhere. I have absolutely zero ass. Because of my weight I developed sagging breasts. I could go on and on and on still but I'd really prefer to stop upsetting myself.

What is your favorite crayon color? I like hot pink ones.

Have you ever snorted cocaine? No and I absolutely never will.

Where is the scariest place you’ve ever been? In a bus-like... truck thing that carried me and other mental hospital inmates (some that were VERY unstable and aggressive) in full-body restraints to the local courthouse to argue about our expected stay lengths. If I hadn't argued, I would have been in this specific hospital for months. That whole experience, getting there and talking to the judge, was one of the scariest things I've ever done.

Do you like string cheese? No.

What state/province/country is to the west of your own? Tennessee.

Were you breastfed as a baby? Yes.

What is the cutest baby animal in general? Maybe I'm biased, but meerkats; they're cute when they're born, but pups become absolutely precious once their fur grows out and they open their eyes. I also really love kittens.

Do you find it difficult to tell others what you want for Christmas? Unless you're my mother, yes. Well, I'm even kinda uncomfortable telling Mom, but she's very insistent on us kids telling her straight-up what we want.

Do you enjoy literature from the past or more recent times? I'm perfectly capable of liking both; I don't have a preference. A good, strong story is a good, strong story.

Do you know anyone who plays World of Warcraft? Do you play? *raises hand* Girt also used to play, but it's not his thing anymore. My former roommate Jacob played, too, but he doesn't now (I know because we're friends on there and you see when they log on). I'm absolutely positive I have other gamer friends who have in the past too, just from like, contextual Facebook posts and stuff.

Have you ever been called a nerd? Yeah, but just playfully and not at all with degrading intent.

What is something that you do not like that everyone else seems to love? Manicures and pedicures come to mind. They make me uncomfortable. Oh, and the beach.

Do you enjoy poetry? I really do. I'd love to start writing it again... I even have poem concepts saved in my phone notes, I just haven't written them. I'm always so afraid of it not coming out how I want.

Have you ever written a poem? Oh, loads since middle school.

Do you own any fingerless gloves? Haha I sure do, all the way back from high school... They're still in my top drawer. I barely ever wear them anymore, though; they don't fit as well but also when I tried a few on the last time, I thought I looked pretty childish. I don't at all think fingerless gloves in general are, I think they're hot as fuck, but these ones just didn't look right on me anymore.

Last time you went out to eat, where did you go? We most recently went to McDonald's a good few days ago.

Tell me about the last animal you touched. My cat, Roman. <3 He's my literal shadow - he goes where I go almost without fail, unless he really feels like napping in bed. He's a COMPLETE cuddlebug that very, very obviously adores me/his mama and he's everything to me, too. ;_; <3 He is SUPER shy around strangers, like he will run and hide under our bed the moment he thinks he hears someone at the door, and it takes seeing you MANY many times before he's cool with you; like it took Girt months to earn his trust, and he comes over regularly. He is such, such a loving cat though once he's into you. Oh, and also very bossy, lol. He has such a personality.

Have you ever witnessed a birth? I've only seen cats give birth from my childhood; I absolutely fucking refuse to witness a human birth, I will not make it through it still conscious, and I also DO NOT understand the "oh but it's beautiful!" argument, fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck no it isn't. I don't even like seeing videos of animals doing it, but it is slightly more bearable.

Have you ever known something that no one knew you knew? Uh, maybe?

Your thoughts on bacon? I like it, so long it's not mega crunchy or burnt.

Out of the 7 deadly sins, which are you most guilty of? Sloth.

Ever held a newborn animal? Kittens, yes.

Do your pets have collars? Describe them: Yes; Roman's is a light blue, and Cookie's is... wow, I don't remember, but I'm pretty sure pink.

Why do girls go tanning when it just makes them look orange? Because girls can do whatever the fuck they want with their own bodies.

What is the last thing you searched for online? "What is a revenant" haha, I've heard it plenty in fantasy material but I never really learned what it was.

Do sluts make you mad? lol no???????? If a person engages in a lot of completely consensual - and safe - sex and isn't keeping it a secret from a partner or something, that's whatever. If the person is open about it and takes care of their safety, that's their goddamn business that they shouldn't feel shitty about. Get mad over something that actually matters.

If you could live for a year with any foreign family, where would you go? Germany. If I hadn't had a boyfriend I refused to leave, I would've loved to do that in high school.

Think of a friend you know; how would you feel if they kissed you? I wouldn't be okay with anyone who is just a friend kissing me because I'm in a monogamous relationship. I would also probably stop that friendship because I expect my friends to respect my relationship. I don't think a kiss on like, the forehead or something from a close friend comforting me or something like that would upset me, but on the lips would.

Do you have bills to pay yet? No. Something Colleen once said that haunts me to this day is the claim that I'm never going to know what it's like to get my first paycheck and pay my own bills.

Will you be changing your hair any time soon? I desperately need a trim, so I hope I can at LEAST do that soon... but I can't afford to put money aside to dye it when I'm saving for my tattoo, no matter how badly I want it dyed.

Does your mom have a celebrity look-alike? I don't think so. There is, however, a deceased celebrity who had her exact first and last name, and people her age would sometimes point out how cool it was.

Why don’t girls like porn? ... Many... do...? I personally don't just because I have no interest in seeing two random people have sex, but that's just me.

Do you think it’s pretty when 100s of balloons are let loose into the sky? I don't even think about whether it's pretty or not, because I find it extremely, extremely upsetting. Those balloons end up as litter, and many animals even get wrapped up in the strings. If I'm not mistaken, in the ocean, some sea life mistake the deflated balloons as jellyfish and even ingest them. Don't fucking do this shit.

[strawbxrryneptune]

Hiiiii!!!! How are you?? Hope you're doing well💖💖

Although w kinktober you must be so busy, bt I wanna suggest smthng you might like. If you've seen the tiktok trend "come n get your girl, she be tryna flirt" or the waist whine thing(if not you cld check it out on yt),, it's just I can't getting my mind off abt thinking how katsuki(not bf katsuki jus him and u hve a crush in each other) wld find out abt your secret tiktok accnt and stumbles across your video on this and he's hooked n horny n in love all sorts of things . You guys may end up alone for hw or something by chance snd things take a wild turn djvinkjjnn.... I hope you like this idea bt regardless of all that, I wanna say I love your writings and have a beautiful day 💖💖💖

Reference + 2 person version

Let's ignore how long ago this was <3

Bit of an ooc Bakugou ?? I'm experimenting with my writing style. Unedited !!

♡♡

Come and get your girl, she be tryna flirt, so-

"Oi, what shit are you watchin'? "

You jump, your heart racing cause fuck you thought Bakugou was a teacher, catching you watching tiktoks instead of studying.

"Oh I was just scrolling through my fyp."

He scoffs, pulling out a chair next to you and plopping down in it, making it creak from the sheer size of him.

"You made any?"

"Videos?"

He shoots you a glare and you let out a huffing laugh, fingers tapping at your screen to bring you to your drafts. He leans closer and you're surrounded by his cologne, taking a small inhale and side eyeing him to make sure he didn't see.

You pull up the most recent video, and the music plays softly from your phone's speakers as he watches you lip sync, then move the phone down and move your hips along to the beat. Once the video starts to play again, you tap the screen and glance at him, your chest tightening a bit at the awkward silence.

"Uh, have you made any videos Bakugou?"

He scoffs and leans back, head titled as he stares at the ceiling.

"Nah, I'm not a tiktok junkie."

"I-"

"Didn't say you were, woman."

You nod and look away, starting to imagine Bakugou getting sturdy or doing stiff hips. You stifle a giggle before turning back to him.

"You should do one, just for fun. I'll teach you."

"Fuck no."

"Cmonn Bakugou I won't post it or send it to anyone, I won't even save it just try. If it's too hard for you just-"

"-Fuck off. Show me the dance."

"Do you want me to fuck off or show you the-"

He cuts you off with a glare and you grab your phone, setting it up against your water bottle and showing him a tiktok of two girls. After a minute, you start to set up the video and set the timer.

"Alright, you wanna be behind me or in front?"

"What do you think."

You roll your eyes at his attitude but get in front of him regardless, reaching over to grab the phone and start the video. You extend your arm to record you both and silently curse the gods for making him so tall cause you could barely get him in the frame.

The video starts and you lip sync along, trying not to laugh at Bakugou's pout, then bring the phone down to your hips and start to move.

Once the song stops you bring the phone back up to your face and laugh. He was barely visible at the lower angle, his hips rolling but way behind you.

"Why are you so far, Bakugou? You're supposed to be directly behind me."

He grumbles under his breath but doesn't protest when you start over. You lip sync once again and bring the phone down, and this time Bakugou is on you, his print pressing snug against your ass and almost making you drop your phone. You push your ass back hard on the last part, elicting a punched sound from his throat.

Once the video starts to play again you try to take a step forward, but big hands on your hips stop you.

"The fuck was that?"

"Excuse me?"

"That shit you just did, at the end."

"I dont know what you're talking about."

"Yeah?"

He presses against you again, and you can feel his dick throb underneath his sweats, fat and hot. You gasp softly, instinctively pushing back.

"We're in a library you fuckin sicko."

You grind against him again, laughing softly.

"Mm, I'm not the one who got hard though, hm?"

He snarls at you but presses into you once again, lingering for a second before pulling away.

Youre about to say something, but he turns you around and presses his lips to yours, sucking your bottom one into his mouth and holding your waist, groaning softly when nip at him.

"Grab your shit, we're going to my place."

You nod quickly before putting your books back in your bag, exiting out of tiktok where the video is still playing and shutting your phone off. Who new tiktok could be the reason you get laid?

[one-more-offbeat-anthem]

one year

“--And I’m not sure about the ducks,” Dean hears Cas say as he shuffles into the kitchen. Cas is already sitting at their table in the breakfast nook that overlooks the backyard, with its picket fence that Dean finally put up just last week, and the lake beyond. He’s got his phone pressed against his ear.

The person on the on the other end of the line says something, Dean doesn’t recognize the lilt of the voice, and Cas replies, “I mean, I’m not sure about--oh, okay. Okay!” He glances up at Dean, a smile spreading across his face. “I’ve got to go. Tomorrow? Okay, great. Thank you! Bye.”

“Who was that?” Dean asks as he fixes himself a cup of coffee--Cas already seems to have one. “And what’s this about ducks?”

“Nothing about ducks,” Cas replies.

“Really? Because I could have sworn--” Dean stops at the look on Cas’s face. “Alright, no ducks.” 

They’ve been in the old lake house since early summer, but in many ways, it feels like they actually started living here this winter. The early days of their time in the boondocks was marked by mosquito bites, uncomfortable inflatable beds, and hot air rushing in through broken windows. 

(Dean fixed the windows just in time for the first thunderstorm, but then they discovered that the roof leaked.)

Now they’re onto finishing touches, which means that he finally feels like he can start properly enjoying his time here, but he also misses those early days. He misses the calluses on Cas’s tan hands that came from trying to turn their front yard into something resembling a yard, misses catching himself right before he fell off the ladder while trying to paint the shutters blue, misses nights where the power would short out so instead of watching television, he and Cas would stay up late talking. 

Dean feels like he’s gotten to know not only Cas but himself better here. 

And now, tomorrow, it will have been a year since this whole thing became silver-ring, kiss-in-front-of-all-their-friends, go-on-a-beach-honeymoon official, and that just feels--

It feels--

Dean opens the fridge and says to Cas, “What do you want for breakfast?”

---------------------

The morning of February fourteenth dawns chilly, but warmer than most of the days out here on the lake. Even with the new insulation, there’s still a draft in the old house, but it’s aided by Cas next to him, an arm wrapped around his waist. Dean smiles to himself and brushes his lips against Cas’s forehead.

Cas’s eyes blink open slowly and then he smiles at Dean, one of those soft, broad ones that Dean spends half his time these days trying to coax out of Cas.

“Happy anniversary,” Dean says softly.

“Weird,” Cas replies.

“Gee, thanks.”

“I mean, it’s weird that it’s been a year. Already.” Cas props himself up to kiss Dean, and Dean kind of loses the thread of the conversation for a minute. “But it’s nice,” he finally says.

“What do you want to do today?” Dean asks. He has a feeling they’ll be fielding phone calls wishing them a happy anniversary, especially from Sam, who accidentally sent a card four days early (he and Eileen had both signed it, with Eileen adding in tiny print, I told him he didn't need to send this). Otherwise, though, they’ve got twenty-four wide open hours, and he’s thinking of something they could do right now without getting out of bed at all--

And then a horn honks outside.

“Who would be here this early?” Dean asks. They seldom get visitors, this far out, just left of the middle of nowhere. 

Cas’s cheeks turn curiously pink. “I never told them a time to show up.”

“Them?” Dean sits up. “Sweetheart, what did you do?”

They head downstairs in their pajamas to discover a truck parked in the gravel driveway and all sorts of quacking commotion coming from the truck bed. There’s a guy standing next to the truck with a clipboard. 

“...Ducks.” Dean turns to Cas. “Yesterday, you were on the phone with someone about ducks.”

“They’re from a wildlife reserve nearby where they take care of injured animals and then release them back into the wild...they like to do it near farms and things so people can watch the ducks.” Cas blushes more. “I read about it in the newspaper.” 

“And you got us ducks for our lake?”

Cas nods.

It’s the weirdest gift Dean’s ever gotten. He’s never been married until now, but in the movies it’s always jewelry or a trip or flowers for an anniversary. But he doesn’t really want any of those things (okay, he wouldn’t say no to flowers), and he loves the way they’ve turned this old lake house into their home, and he’s already imaging the contented look on Cas’s face while he feeds the ducks, and--

"I love you,” Dean says. “Did you know that?”

“You say it every day.”

“Well, bears repeating.” Dean takes Cas’s hand, kisses his cheek. “Let’s get our ducks.” 

(That afternoon, when Cas is by the lake’s edge, communing with the flora and fauna like he loves to do, Dean snaps a picture with his phone. The smile on Cas’s face as he plies the ducks with crusts of bread is even better than he could have imagined.) 

(All of this has been better than he ever could have imagined.)

[whoabo]

all i have

pairings: bo burnham x reader.

part one: all i wanted.

warnings: swearing, angst, sad bo.

era: inside (2020–21)

a/n: thank you guys for waiting so patiently for the second part. i’m so sorry it’s been so long, i accidentally deleted the first draft and had to re write it. so hopefully you enjoy. ily <3.

four days.

four days.

three nights.

you left four days and three nights ago. not even saying ‘i love you’ back.

bo hadn’t stopped calling you since that night. the only time the phone stopped ringing was when he fell asleep. clutching a tear stained pillow with bruce asleep by his feet.

he didn’t realize how much he royally fucked up. he didn’t realize just how much harm he did. he thought you were fine while he was working in the guesthouse. she never complained, so he never asked.

he now realizes how flawed his logic truly is.

when he awoke, his face felt hot. it felt wet. lifting a hand to his cheeks he sighed and stood up. the sound of bones popping as he stretched made him cringe.

he walked down the hallway— not without bending down a smidge to block from hitting the doorway. reaching the living room he collapsed on to the couch. he stared at the wall, one that held a framed photo. it was a picture of you and him, about four to five years ago, it was when he adopted bruce.

he always laughed at the picture when lever his eyes happened to land on it. it was pretty much a selfie of you two, that he printed and framed.

looking at it now makes a feeling rise in his stomach, a feeling that he can’t really describe. it’s not painful nor is it a good feeling. it’s more dreadful, anxiety ridden, if you will.

“jesus fucking christ.” he groaned sitting up.

he could already tell the layout of his day.

sit down, get up, call, sit down, get up, let bruce out, sit down, get up, call, sit down, get up, make lunch, sit down, call, get up, feed bruce, sit down, get up, call, lay down, and eventually cry everything out.

sounds eventful.

as he stood over the stove, cooking some eggs. he made a decision to take a two week long break from his special. he’s gonna spend. that time trying to get you to come home.

grabbing his phone he noticed the time; eleven forty nine. (11:49 am) and zero calls. well one from his mother but not one from the person he so desperately wants to talk to. back to his mother, he’ll just facetime her before he goes to bed.

he opens his phone as he turns off the stove. clicking on the green phone icon, he presses the oh so familiar contact.

the sound of your phone ringing was enough to pull you out of your sleep. your eyes squinted as you lifted up your phone to your face.

the name displayed caused a feeling in your stomach. guilt, anxiety, happiness, anger? who knows. it’s hard to depict the feeling to an exact word. if that makes sense.

“fuck it.”

accept.

not daring to say word, you hold the phone against your ear. the sound of his breathing is almost too loud, that being the only thing audible.

“hello? did- did you answer?” hearing quiet shuffles from the speaker, you close your eyes at the sound of his voice.

“you answered.” he spoke, sounding— almost— marveled that you did.

you sigh and open your eyes, “would you rather i didn��t?”

shit. you didn’t mean for that to sound snarky. but he deserves it.

“no, no. i just— you haven’t been answering me all week so i didn’t really expect you to answer.”

you sit up, leaning against the headboard of the bed. you anxiously note the tip of your nails as you figure out what to say to him.

“i’m sorry.”

really? ‘i’m sorry’? you have nothing to be sorry for, he’s the one who should be apologizing. he ignored you for months while living in the same house together and your gonna say sorry cause you didn’t answer his calls for four days?

that’s not shit compared to what he did.

a bittersweet chuckle left bo’s lips, “you’re sorry? i should be the one apologizing. i was a total fucking douche and left you alone. i shouldn’t have put this special so far above you. and to yell at you— .. god, i’m so sorry, honey.” his voice changed a lot during his mini ramble.

it started off very emotional, then started to get louder. not yelling but not taking in his regular speaking voice. it stood directly in the middle. but. it ended with boarder line whispering.

the way his voice sounded like a plead, in some sorts made you want to just drive home and hug and hold him.

he cleared his throat, “i miss you.”

did you miss him?

of course, who are we kidding.

“i miss you too.”

a gasp was heard from the other side of the phone. it sounded hopeful, excited, happy, etc.

“oh, you have no idea how happy that makes me, honey. god, i’ve missed you so much. i truly realized how much of an asshole boyfriend i was— am. i promise i won’t do that again.” he pleaded.

you take the phone away from your ear and look at your sheets.

just go back home.

“i.. uh.” you stuttered.

“you what, baby?”

you squeezed your eyes shut. it shouldn’t be this hard you’ve said this to him a thousand times before.

“i- i love you, bo. i don’t know when, but i’ll be back. soon. okay?” you whispered. so low, bo could barely hear it. but he caught it.

a noise crackled through which sounded like a sigh of relief.

“of course. take your time. i love you too, y/n.”

two am.

two o’ one am.

two o’ three am.

eventually, two thirty am.

weird time to be waking up and deciding to leave your friends house with a small paper on the fridge thanking her for letting you stay.

with a bag thrown— quite dramatically— in the back seat, you’re off.

there was something about that call. about his voice. the way he sounded like he had been sick or crying, maybe even both. how would you know, you’ve been gone.

the time spent away from him, it was needed. but now it was time to go back and see him. hold him. or hold bruce, whoever came up to you first.

pulling up to the house, you turned you headlight off and sighed. it was relief. the relief of finally being home.

all the lights were off but you saw his car in the drive way. luckily he’s home. but hopefully his in the house.

unlocking the door and making it down the hall to the bedroom door, which was already half way open. you snuck in and saw bo facing away from the door and clutching a pillow to his chest. bruce laid comfortably at his feet. you smiled, eyes tearing up the slightest bit.

your legs and feet start to move, somewhat, on their own and you walk to the other side of the bed. slowly, you slip under the covers and place a hand on top of bo’s.

he jolts a little and mumbles out your name, not able to open his eyes fully. he feels your hand come to contact with his cheek and he sleepily smiles.

“holy fuck, you’re home. i’ve missed you.” he slurs, seemingly too tired to even say words properly. the best he can do to show some kind of affection while being half asleep is moving his head to rest on your chest.

“i missed you too, bo.”

“i’m taking two weeks.. uhm, two weeks off from making my thing.”

you laugh at how tired he sounds. not being able to remember what exactly he’s working on at the moment.

he wraps an arm around your waist and soon enough falls back asleep. you smile and pull the blankets up more. almost covering both of your guys chins.

“goodnight, bo.” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead.

“goodnight, y/n. i love you.” he murmurs.

[azenkii]

A Long List of Trash Fire Lord Zuko Headcanons

...that i couldn't get out of my head:

(warning: SUPER LONG POST i havent figured out how to trim posts yet)

he's the one who unchains azula despite iroh's protests. she doesn't even try to fight him, just cries into his shoulder and keeps mumbling about how father's going to be so disappointed in her. he takes her to her rooms and has her drink a sleeping draught, then stations the best guards he has left outside her chambers.

his first council meeting takes place literally a day after sozin's comet. he hobbles into the council chamber shirtless with his entire torso covered in bandages and every council member just looks at him like '...what'

he does NOT sleep for like,,a week after sozin's comet and then another two weeks after his coronation. katara, aang and suki try to persuade him to sleep and he doesn't listen. eventually sokka, toph and mai team up to literally drag his ass to bed and tell him he's not allowed to get up until he sleeps (does mai pin him to the bed with her knives? yes. is it kinky or sexual in any way? definitely not.)

he drinks So. Much. Tea. at this point it's practically tasteless to him but he drinks it anyway because he just needs something to do and tea is something familiar. he keeps iroh on his toes because he's constantly asking for new tea blends, uncle, i think i actually tasted the last one,

he flat-out refuses to grow his hair for at least a year after ozai's defeat. the second it starts getting close to his chin he shears it off himself, with his knife, and his stylist has a heart attack every single time

when he's tired he'll occasionally jump up when one of his guards moves. it stops after a bit, but for the first month and a half or so he's really twitchy. when sokka asks, the only explanation he can come up with is that he's not used to having people stand behind him silently and not want to kill him, much less want to protect him (sokka immediately takes him out for a shopping trip and makes a point of walking behind him the entire time, but only on zuko's right side, where he can clearly see it if sokka moves towards him)

when the healer declares azula mentally unstable and in need of an institution, he shuts himself in his office for the rest of the night. no one's allowed in, not even iroh. he finally emerges in the morning, eyes red from crying and sleep deprivation, and tells the librarian that he'd like a list of the best mental institutions in the country, please, the best in the world if you can get them

he loves theatre (is this even a headcanon?). unfortunately it practically died out in the fire nation along with the rest of the creative arts, leaving nothing but small troupes like the ember island players. one of zuko's personal goals (meaning things he wants to accomplish that aren't as important as restoring his country) is to bring back theatre; he finally manages to do it after about eight months or so of being fire lord, along with other arts like dancing, music and sculpture

he establishes a national day of mourning, on the first day of autumn every year, to commemorate the genocide of the air nomads. from 100AG onwards, every calendar printed in the fire nation has it marked. at first it was called the day of repentance, but aang persuaded him to have it changed (by arguing that he didn't want guilt to be a literal staple of fire nation culture)

he introduces literally So Many educational reforms, plus a mandatory class that teaches students about the cultures of the other nations (air nomads included) and how some of their traditions overlap

he turns down the offer of having a statue put up of him in the capital. toph ignores him and does it anyway.

he visits azula regularly, makes sure she's (relatively) comfortable and well-fed, and sometimes just sits down outside her door and tells her about everything that's going on right now ('some of the far colonies have developed their own standardised writing, azula, you wouldn't believe it, and i've asked the fire sages to come visit more often—but you never liked them, did you? oh, well; i'll make sure none of them go into your chambers by mistake')

(he doesn't know it, but when he does this azula sits by the door and listens. she wonders what kind of writing the colonists have developed, and whether or not the fire sages have taken on some new recruits.)

he hates being above anyone else. never sits in the throne if he can help it, nor does he sit on the dais in the council room. when he talks to people shorter than him, he finds himself stooping a little bit to talk to them on their level (the exception to this rule is sokka, who he mocks for being shorter all the way up until sokka grows taller than him, the bastard)

the first time he visits the earth kingdom, the earth king's ministers call a toast. he ends up being the only one who has to sit out, because he's too young to drink by earth kingdom law

once his servants figure out he won't kill them for talking to him, they start becoming a lot more bold, telling him off when he doesn't take care of himself. at one point, they force him to let them take care of him so much that he literally just bolts into the gardens and hides there until the staff rope in mai and ty lee

when he needs to escape, he does one of two things: (a) he dresses up as the blue spirit and does some parkour until he calms down, or (b) he goes to work at the jasmine dragon. (b) happens less often bc the jasmine dragon's in ba sing se, but there's been a few memorable incidents when an earth kingdom diplomat walks in and yells, 'LEE?!' when they see the fire lord

the first court artist who draws him also happens to be the one who drew azulon and ozai. he draws zuko without his scar. zuko takes one look at it and tells him, very calmly, that he'd like him to leave, please.

zuko burns the portrait. he doesn't fire the court artist, but he never calls on him again unless he has to. a second court artist is called, and can't help but be a bit confused when the fire lord tells him to be sure to include the scar

he forgets the crown. a lot. sometimes he walks into council meetings in his sleepwear with his hair tied up in a messy ponytail and a bunch of scrolls tucked under his arm. none of his councilmen have the guts (or the heart) to tell him that this is not, in fact, formal council wear

he goes to feed the turtleducks when he's stressed. he thinks he's being subtle. he's not. the entire palace knows, and they consciously give him space when they see him in the turtleduck garden

most of his staff are older than him, so they look at him and see this teeny tiny fire lord who is So Small and who Must Be Protected. the day after zuko's coronation, the head chef holds a meeting where they commence Operation Do-Not-Let-That-Boy-Turn-Out-Like-His-Father (subsection He's-The-Only-Good-Thing-We-Have)

one night he wakes up to find suki sitting in his room, decked out in full kyoshi warrior garb and makeup, and just about screams blue murder. suki tells him there are suspicions of an assassin in the palace, and would you please stop yelling it's very distracting, we won't be able to hear anyone coming over that racket

zuko gets very, very paranoid of random spirits after that. yeah, suki looks like a possibly malevolent spirit when she's wearing her makeup, what about it? (when he tells sokka he's highkey terrified of spirit shenanigans, sokka just looks at him and says, 'man, the stories i could tell...', and THAT'S when zuko remembers sokka spent like six months more than he did travelling with the avatar)

on his first visit to the southern water tribe, he removes his boots and leg guards, rolls up his pants and kneels barefoot in the snow. even though chief hakoda immediately starts trying to pull him up, he's stubborn as hell and stays kneeling for the entirety of his very long, very sincere apology-on-behalf-of-the-fire-nation speech. he nearly loses his toes to frostbite after that, and both sokka and katara never stop giving him shit for it

the first time he grows a 'beard' is completely accidental. he's stressed over some trade miscommunications with chief hakoda, hasn't slept in a few days...and then when sokka arrives as water tribe ambassador to help smooth things over, he takes one look at zuko and says 'man, facial hair does not suit you'

zuko: facial what now

he checks a mirror to find that he's got stubble covering his chin, dark enough that it almost looks intentional, and holy gods how the fuck did he not notice this before

'UNCLE WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME' 'i assumed you were doing it on purpose' 'WHEN HAVE I EVER DONE ANYTHING ON PURPOSE'

he shaves it all off immediately, of course, which prompts a lot of teasing and rib-poking from sokka until zuko finally snaps that he's scared it'll make him look like his father. sokka stops after that.

(the day after sokka leaves, zuko finds that a mysterious someone has scribbled all over ozai's royal portrait, giving him a frankly ridiculous beard and moustache that literally CANNOT be grown in real life. oddly enough, he can't bring himself to care about the defamation of royal property. he's too busy laughing.)

his paths cross with toph and sokka more than any of the others, because sokka is ambassador and toph is technically still a beifong. most of the time, at formal functions, he ends up sequestered in the corner with toph and a hoard of snacks, and they talk and swear much more than they usually do (zuko's ministers once heard him when he was drunk with toph, and the servants swear the older ministers' ears started bleeding)

he restores fire nation cultural festivals, and in doing so subjects himself to learning a lot of complicated dances

during one memorable week, he wrote so many letters and drafted so much legislation that he ran out of paper. he had to go visit the nearest school and ask for some

he keeps up with his firebending and sword training even though it's hard to fit into his schedule. his ministers refrain from reminding him that he has guards to protect him now; it's still hard for zuko to trust his safety with anyone but himself (team avatar is the exception).

he started sleepwalking about two months into his reign. no one knew why. one time, he nearly sleepwalked right off the edge of a balcony, and one of his guards had to grab him by the back of his robes.

the sleepwalking stopped after around a month and never happened again. at this point it's practically palace legend.

after freeing the war prisoners, he went around collecting every single earthbender-proof wooden cell he could find in the capital and surrounding areas. when he'd gotten most of them, he gathered them into a huge pile in the city square and set fire to them with his own hands.

unfortunately he couldn't do that with the waterbender metal cells but he did get toph to come in and bend them all into pretty shapes (well, toph thought they were pretty shapes. everyone else thinks they're meaningless squiggles)

he learned how to write with both hands at the same time out of sheer necessity (he refused scribes until it became clear that he'd be putting some people out of a job; that was when he started letting scribes write very, very minor things, but all important documents/drafts/letters are still written by him)

he once put the wet end of an ink brush in his mouth instead of the wooden end by mistake. didn't even realise until he bit down to keep it in place and ink went oozing everywhere

when his guards rushed in to find him coughing and spluttering black liquid all over his desk they thought he'd been poisoned but no he's just stupid

on his 17th birthday, his first one after being crowned, he got tackled by team avatar in the middle of the ballroom and ended up at the bottom of a cuddlepile for like ten minutes

this cuddlepile happened at an event that was very much public and very much formal. it was a scandal for weeks

just. fire lord zuko, guys. so much potential

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

that kind of morning, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You’re really bad at waking up. Big sleepyhead with foggy memory kind of bad. Your brain is on autopilot. Hm, kind of hard to pilot when everything seems out of place. And you’re mildly hungover. Ow. You just ran into a muscular chest. Who could that be?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; morning after a wild night; graphic descriptions of sexual acts and a tiny bit of smut–while on the phone (fem reader, nipple play, dry humping, hint of a handjob); non-idol!BTS; basically sleepy and slightly hungover reader trying to piece together life lmao

–

Most people make their worst decisions at night.

Not you. You make your worst decisions in the morning. 

Maybe it's because you don't drink coffee.

"Ow!"

Was your bed always that high? Huh. You squinted in the sunlight filtering through the window, far too bright for your sensitive eyes. Instead, you occupied yourself with sniffing the t-shirt you were wearing. It smelled clean, like fabric softener. Also, it was white. Generally, you didn't buy white shirts since they dirtied easily. A miracle that this one wasn't stained. 

You stumbled through the bedroom door – was it always that far? – and smacked your nose into a wall. 

"Ow!"

"Ah!"

A moving wall. Wait, not a wall. A shirtless guy. Oh. It had been that kind of night. 

You rubbed your nose. "Erm, hello. You're still here, huh?" you mumbled. 

The guy blinked at you. "What do you mean? This is my apartment."

Oh. That's why everything seemed unfamiliar. Now that you looked at him, he was pretty attractive. Long dark hair, large brown eyes, dark brows, shapely pink lips with a mole underneath his lower lip. He had two more on his nose and cheek. Lightly tanned skin and a cute confused face. Huh. Nice muscles too. Good for him. 

"Alright, I'll be on my way then, uh..." you trailed off awkwardly, pushing past him. The events of last night were hazy and your head hurt a little, although not so bad that you couldn't function. You were just poorly functioning because you weren't a morning person. 

"Do you want coffee or something?" the guy asked, following you. He sounded a little worried. 

"Nah, I don't drink coffee," you muttered, holding onto the wall as you walked down the unfamiliar narrow hallway. "Stains your teeth."

Speaking of teeth, your breath was probably awful. Hopefully that poor guy didn't breathe near you. Come to think of it, this wasn't what you were wearing last night. It was probably his shirt, considering the large size. Where were your clothes? Oh, look, a bathroom. 

"I could order us some breakfast," the guy continued as you stuck your head into the bathroom and saw the sink. There was a black toothbrush and a crumpled tube of toothpaste, definitely not yours. A black cup for rinsing one's mouth, with a winking emoji printed on it. A black shirt bunched up and half-falling off the sink. Deodorant. Cologne. You picked it up and sniffed it. A clean scent. Didn't make you want to throw up. Awesome. 

You flicked on the faucet and shoved your hands under it. Cold. Fuck. Whatever. You cupped some and brought your hands to your face, dripping water everywhere, and cursing under your breath before gargling some. Best you could do. You spied something red out of the corner of your eye. What was that? You squinted at the towel rack through the mirror, water trickling down your chin. There was a thin scrap of ripped lace fabric on the hanging white towels. 

The guy was still talking. 

"I can get you a spare toothbrush? Do you want some cleanser to wash your face?"

He had a pleasant voice, a little deep. Clear, smooth. Made you think of a cool, refreshing breeze. 

Wait. 

Were those your red panties on the towel rack?

You winced at the mirror. Welp. Those were done for. Didn't look like you could salvage them. You suddenly felt a chilly draft on your bare ass. Your arms were still dripping water as you leaned down and splashed your cheeks. Guess you'll just have to figure something out. You turned off the water and wiped your face off with your palm. A white hand towel appeared. You took it, seeing the guy's tattooed hand and arm. Sexy. He had an emoji tattooed onto his knuckle of a sheepish, crooked smile. 

Kind of looked like you, at the moment. 

You dried your face and hands. 

"Thanks, but it's fine, I'll just go home so I don't bother you," you said, folding the towel and placing it on the sink before moving past him and his curious expression. 

"You're not bothering me. I want to make your morning comfortable."

You noticed your red dress from last night on the ground. The thin straps were torn off and there was a distinct, dark stain down the front. Hmm. You vaguely remembered scooping your tits out and smashing them against his hard dick and dropping a stream of spit down your chest for lubrication before furiously tit-fucking him and making him cum all over your collarbones and neck. 

Ah. 

Well. 

That dress was fucked. 

"Can I borrow this shirt? I'll give it back," you said, turning around to see the guy's face bright pink, staring at your dress on the ground. 

"Uh, yeah, sure, whatever you want," he rambled, shifting awkwardly. He was wearing light gray sweatpants. You looked down. He shifted away quickly, but it was pretty hard to disguise that tent. 

You scratched your head. Hm. "Say, uh..." you trailed off again. 

He blinked with those big chocolatey eyes. "Oh, um, Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook." 

He stuck his hand out. You shook it, fitting your hand in his, suddenly remembering when you grabbed it and put it between your legs, smearing your juices from his wrist to his forearm and grinding onto his muscle, flexing your opening on his skin as he moaned darkly into your ear.

Ah.

You let go.

You were probably past handshakes, but, oh well?

"Right, erm, Jungkook, do you know where my jacket is?" you asked sheepishly. 

Jungkook whipped his head around, sending his black hair flying everywhere. "I think... it's in the living room?" You remembered running your hands through that hair, panting in his face as he shoved you against the wall, two fingers on your clit and rubbing furiously, those big chocolate eyes watching you come undone under him. 

He moved past you and you flattened against the wall, not touching him. Hm. This increased clarity as you continued to wake up was starting to make this more and more, uh... less chill? Weird? Awkward? You followed him at a slight distance, lifting your head to see his back. Your eyes widened. Long red scratches up and down his defined back, caused by your fingernails as he fucked you violently into his bed, your thighs clasped around his waist and his name in your mouth, his thick cock making your pussy so tight and full that you felt like you were going to explode, so completely jammed with pleasure that you couldn't stop moaning. 

Erm. Hm. You kind of needed panties with the sudden leakage happening down there. 

Oh shit, did you use protection? You frowned as you screwed up your eyes to think. Yes. You did. Jungkook had grabbed them from his nightstand and spilled the whole box, thus causing you both to scramble to detach one in your and his haste.

For. 

Er. 

Fucking like animals. 

You both got one condom and ended up using both.

"Ah, here." 

You reached out and took your long-line black leather jacket from Jungkook. That's right. You'd worn that red satin dress with this jacket and black high heels. You spied them by the mat at what you assumed was the front door. Jungkook wasn't looking at you. His face was red. You slipped on the jacket. Smelled the rum still sticking to it. Right. You went to the club, got a drink, and Jungkook had knocked into you, spilling it into your jacket. It was an accident, but that was fine, because Jungkook was hot and you bribed him into talking to you by asking him to buy you another drink.

Super cute with his apologies, nervously speaking to you all night before loosening up with a few drinks and beginning to tease you, little by little, until you were in his apartment, getting your jacket slipped off your shoulders and his mouth on your newly exposed skin. 

The memory made you reach up to touch your left shoulder. You winced. Peered under the jacket and shirt to see a giant purple hickey. 

"Oh... er, sorry..." Jungkook sputtered sheepishly. "You seemed really into it at the time."

There was damn waterfall between your legs now.

"I was," you replied, a little too quickly. "Uh, I mean, I am. Was great."

You facepalmed. Jungkook jumped, startled that you slapped your own face. 

"Sorry, I'm not a morning person. What I meant to say was last night was amazing and I had a great time," you sighed. "You were wonderful. And hot. And sexy. And I'd do it again."

Jungkook blinked at you with those big chocolatey eyes. 

"O... oh." 

He seemed torn on whether to believe you or not. To be fair, your voice was hoarse and you sounded half-dead. Plus, your speech was a little cliché. Sigh. You struggled to retain brain function, shaking your head roughly. It always took you a long time to wake up and it was worse when you weren't home doing your usual routine. You furrowed your brows, raising your head to frown at Jungkook. 

Hold on. 

"Don't you work for my dad?"

Jungkook started, eyes shifting. 

"Er... yeah."

Did you just fuck one of the waiters at your dad's high-end restaurant? All night?

Huh.

What are the chances?

You were going to have to see Jungkook later that night, since you were the hostess.

"You know, Jungkook," you said, realizing why you had spoken to him last night, why it was fun and familiar banter, why he was so cute to you, and why it had been such a good chance. "Let's not tell my dad about this."

Jungkook's eyes went shifty again. "Yeeeeeeeah... let's not."

Your dad meant well. He was loud and brash by nature and scared every human being that hadn't lived under his roof for decades. Speaking of living under his roof... Maybe you shouldn't go home smelling like rum and Jungkook's cologne, wearing his t-shirt and no panties.

"You... sure you wanna go home?" Jungkook asked, chewing on his lip. You noticed he looked a bit disappointed. Sad. 

"Actually," you sheepishly began. "Maybe I shouldn't. Not until Papa leaves the house." You twisted your mouth to one side and poked your index fingers together. Awkward. "Your offer for breakfast still stands?" 

He brightened. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. What do you want?" He held up the phone form the coffee table. "We can order something."

Your eyes shifted to the phone. Ten missed calls. 

"I would call Papa first," you muttered, walking forward and taking the phone from him. You felt his body heat, the closeness of his bare torso. He smelled nice. Jungkook made a surprised noise, only now realizing he had picked up your phone by accident. You slipped your other arm around him and pulled him to you, inhaling his scent. He made another squeak of confusion as you pressed your lips to his warm chest. 

Mmm. Nice. 

You phone vibrated violently and you answered it without looking, kissing Jungkook's skin softly, hearing him gasp and stifle his moan as the sharp bark of your name blasted from the phone speaker. 

"Where are you?!" Your dad was yelling at the top of his lungs. Jungkook shivered under you. He probably thought your dad was pissed, but he was only worried. 

"I'm fine. Slept over at a friend's since I went to the bars last night."

"Oh, fuck, sheesh," your dad grumbled, swearing repeatedly. Your lips began to travel and Jungkook was smacking your arm impatiently, shaking his head, mouthing at you, are you crazy, what the fuck are you doing, before he clenched his jaw and tipped his head back as you began to lazily lick his dark nipple, feeling it harden with your touch.

"Are you eating?" your dad barked in your ear. 

"Mhm, can't start the day unless you eat," was your reply, grinning around Jungkook's nipple as his face was becoming more panicked by the second. 

"That's right," your dad huffed. "What are you eating?"

"Korean."

Jungkook gave you an exasperated, pained look that quickly turned to ecstasy, placing a hand over his mouth and muffling his moan as you sucked in his nipple, bringing your hips into his sweatpants, the tent returning.

"Hah, fine, would it kill you to fucking call so I don't think you're dead?" Now that you were an adult, your dad didn't bother filtering his cursing anymore.

"Ah, sorry, sorry," you replied, very apologetically and sweetly, grabbing a handful of Jungkook's ass and ramming his rock-hard cock into your crotch, clamping your thighs around it. Jungkook was flailing his one free hand and pressing the other over his mouth, trying not to make a fucking sound. 

"I'll remember next time. Promise, Papa."

You heard your dad let out a puff of air. "Hmph. Fine. Don't forget you have to work tonight. I'll let you have the day after off..."

You raised your eyebrows, switching sides and slowly flicking your tongue on Jungkook's nipple, thighs sliding back and forth on Jungkook's clothed length. He was losing it above you, muting his cries and rutting against your thighs to match your pace and add more simulation.

"I thought the other hostess was on vacation for a couple more days?"

"I asked your mother to cover for you," your dad grunted. "You should have some free time while you're still young. Have some fucking fun before you die. That's why I work."

"Ah... okay, thanks Papa. I love you."

"Love you too," was your dad's reply, not so gruff anymore, but warmer and kinder. 

He hung up. 

You dropped the phone from your ear. 

Jungkook gasped a lungful of air, throwing his hand aside now that he could finally breathe, turning into a high-pitched yelp when you yanked his pants down, shoving his cock between your thighs again, but skin on skin this time, angling him down, the head smearing pre-cum in your mid-thigh. Ah, yes, what a pleasant surprise it had been when you saw this pretty cock for the first time, looking so perfect squashed between your tits. 

"B-But breakfast..." he choked out between moans.

"I'm getting it," you panted, grinning, sliding up and down his hot stiffness, feeling it twitch. "Best to have some protein in the morning."

Jungkook clenched his jaw, horny and indignant.

"Korean? Really?"

You switched to your hand, kneeling down as you stroked his stiff length hard and fast, giving him a devilish open-mouthed smirk, wet tongue sliding out.

"Hey, I didn't lie."

-

wondering how Jungkook feels about all this? that kind of evening.

--

masterpost

[nihyunluvskookie]

i missed you;

“Seungcheol one shot”

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x female reader

Genre: Slice of life, a bit of angst

Warnings: mention of pregnancy

Word count: 2.1 K

A/N: Finally I am posting this, this was in my drafts since a long time; lemme know if you like this, I was wondering cheol would be the best dad for sure.

“Sehyun baby where are you?” I called her. I kept the bowl after washing; I rinsed my hands and took off the apron. I went to the living room searching for her “Sehyun, baby, Choi Sehyun where are you baby?”

“Mommy!!” I felt a back hug and I looked back and her. She was smiling sweetly at me; I bent to her level and ruffled her hair. “Baby where were you?”

“I miss daddy” she was looking down, I picked her up in my embrace; “Dad is coming today baby, we will go to airport soon. We need to get ready” she was holding something in her hands.

“What are you holding love?” I asked her, she smiled at me, “Chocolates!!! I want to give chocolates to daddy.”

“Awww, my baby” I kissed her and she hugged me tight. I miss him a lot but Sehyun must be, missing him more than me, she was just one and half years old when she hugged him last and felt his touches. I can’t imagine how Sehyun will react when she will see him. ‘Seungcheol, I want to see you, I miss you’. I am just happy he is finally coming back.

I looked at the time, it was 5 pm already, “baby we need to go change because we will go meet daddy soon, okay?” she nodded and smiled. I took her to our bedroom and changed her into a cream colour dress with cherry print on it. I combed her hair and made her sit on the bed. I went to my closet to choose something; I was going through my clothes and noticed the white dress I brought on my birthday last month; I took it out. I wanted to try it, I wore it once only, “Sehyun… should mommy wear this?”

“You will look pretty mommy!!!” she was smiling so wide; I love her so much. I went to her and kissed her on her cheeks. She got his eyes, her eyelashes are long just like him, her dimples remind me of him. All the beautiful features are from him, the way she resembles him the most; makes her look so lovely.

I changed into the white dress, and let my hair down. I combed my bangs and applied light makeup, and cherry lip tint. I looked at my wedding ring for the last time and smiled, it shined when I moved my finger; it reminded me how he put the wedding ring in my finger so carefully that day. I can’t believe we came this far together, from dating and being campus sweethearts to husband and wife, who have a little angel now. It’s been five years since we got married and Sehyun is three years, everything feels like a dream, a dream I would never want to wake up. I grabbed my car key, phone, my sling bag and picked up Sehyun in my arms. “baby let’s go”

I went down, wore my heels and helped Sehyun with her shoes. She looked adorable. “Mommy ready!!” she looked so excited; this is my first time taking Sehyun with me to the airport to pick Seungcheol alone. I locked the door and Sehyun ran to the car. “Sehyun don’t run, you will fall” I told her but she is just like him, she won’t listen and will do what she wants to do.

“Mommy open! I want to go inside” she was jumping near the car, she looked more excited from me; I walked to her and unlocked the car. I made her sit in the middle, of the back seat and put on the straps on her from both the side; making sure she is seated safely. I double checked on her and got into the car. “Love let’s go” and I started driving. I turned on soft music, “Mommy, I can’t wait.”

“Yes baby, I know. But let mommy drive now, or else if I get distracted, we will get into an accident.”

“Okay mommy, I will not call you while driving” I could see her soft small smile from the mirror, she is cute.

“Good girl” Sehyun is a three years old girl, but the way she always listens to me when she should and that always amaze me, she is growing up well.

There were times when she would cry and tell she is missing seungcheol; she would call him and cry all night. Some sleepless nights were just painful, she would just cry and looking at her would make me cry and hurt; even if I miss him, but looking at her makes my heart hurt. She’s too precious and the way she reminds me of him, I miss him more and more. I can’t forget those days when I was carrying Sehyun inside, he used to take care of me like I’m a fragile glass. He would always deal with my mood swings, take care of my weird cravings, always comfort me after my morning sickness, he wouldn’t let me do any work at all and what not, he used to take days off just to take care of me, it was very hard for him I could see that but he never told anything or complained me. I can never thank him enough for taking care of me like that, maybe that’s how someone feels they go through pregnancy. I never lived apart from Seungcheol till now, that’s why when he said he needs to go to a different country for a project and since he is the head of HR department, and he needs to go with his team, I was sad because Sehyun was just one and half years, and I can’t just go, stay with him there just because I would miss him. He wanted to take me there with him but I refused, I knew I won’t stop him because it’s his work and he doesn’t have a choice. So, I let him go, but who knew I would miss this terribly and it would be this hard to take care of Sehyun alone; I was working sometimes it would be really hard for me to manage everything, working from home was exhausting as well. I regretted staying apart from him, almost blaming myself for not saying yes to him when he asked me if I want to go with him, because it will be for two years. I remember calling and crying all night after Sehyun slept, I stayed with Seungcheol’s mom and dad for a year; she helped me with Sehyun a lot but they had to go back since they had some work there; and I didn’t stop mum since it would be a bit hard for dad to manage everything alone there along with work load. Everything was so hard until Sehyun turned 3 years old, she listens to me sometimes and I quit my job too, now I just want to spend my time with Seungcheol and Sehyun; I feel empty when Sehyun goes to playschool.

After an hour I reached airport, I looked for parking and parked my car. I got out and went to take out Sehyun, I picked her up and locked my car. “Mommy when will dad come?”

“Soon”

We went inside the airport, we were waiting for him to arrive, Sehyun was getting impatient, she is just like him. I saw his flight arrived and I was waiting patiently, Sehyun was on my lap holding chocolates, she wanted to give to Seungcheol. The clock was ticking, I was trying not to get impatient. I wanted to calm myself down but I know I can’t because I missed him so much that I can’t stop myself from being impatient, nervous, happy and tears almost coming out. Missing a person like this, never happened in my life.

I remember, when I came here with Sehyun last time; she was just one year old and he was leaving. I remember crying so much, Sehyun was crying; mum came with me to see him off. I remember not leaving him, and hugging him tight until he had to go inside for check in, he was just telling me to take care of myself and whipping my tears. I remember crying all night that day, I would just call him and cry, I would miss him so much and had to take care of Sehyun, it was exhausting thanks to Seungcheol’s mum, she helped me a lot. Every morning I would wake up with Sehyun but it would feel cold, because he wasn’t here with me to cuddle, I would miss his morning kiss and goodnight kiss; which made my day and end my day but without him everything felt so lonely and empty. I would never want to go back to those days.

I almost teared up thinking about those days because I know how hard it was for me. It felt like I wouldn’t survive a single day anymore but I did.

“Mommy let’s go stand there please, I want to see daddy first” Sehyun had that adorable face on her, which I can never resist. I nodded.

“Okay my baby let’s go” I got up and held her in my arms. She was smiling, her smile could heal me from anything.

I was standing then I saw him walking, he was wearing white t-shirt, his favorite denim jacket, black jeans and white specs. He was looking perfect as usual, his bangs were falling perfectly on his forehead, giving him the most adorable look ever.

“Don’t cry I am here~” my grip around his shirt was tight, I just couldn't let him go, “I missed you too love” he was caressing my hair, he always does this to me. My cries got louder, his voice was just comforting as always.

It felt like world stopped then and there, it looked like he was taking forever to come to me. “Mommy let me down!!!” I let Sehyun down first and saw her running to him; I saw him halting his steps and bending down. Sehyun got him and hugged him tight. Seungcheol took her in his arms, and picked her up. My tears started falling even though I wanted to stop them, they weren’t listening to me. Cheol kissed her and hugged her again, I was walking and then our eyes met. I smiled, trying to stop my tears, I wanted to walk slowly and not let him see that I am again crying for him, but my mind wasn’t listening to anything at all; all I wanted to do was run to him and hug him tight.

I saw him letting Sehyun down, I went to him and hugged him tight; he hugged me back. I couldn’t stop crying, it felt so good to be in his embrace again, all these days I craved his touches the most. I inhaled his green aromatic scent, which I missed the most, the safe and comfort feeling which I craved for the most is back.

“How are you love?” he kissed my cheeks.

“I… miss…ed you….” My voice cracked; I just couldn’t explain how much I missed him.

“mommy don’t cry please” she started crying, I looked at Seungcheol, his eyes soften he hugged both of us and pulled us closer. “Sehyun, daddy is sorry now don’t cry and mommy will not cry too.” Sehyun was sobbing lightly, I looked at both of them, they are my little universe, Seungcheol was trying to calm Sehyun and he eventually held her in his embrace and pulled me closer.

“Daddy!! Mommy is crying again, just like she does because of you, I hate it when mommy cries, daddy please stop her from crying.” I heard Sehyun’s voice, I let go of his shirt, wiped my tears and looked at Sehyun, she was tearing up. I picked her up and kissed her cheeks; “baby mommy won’t cry anymore because daddy is here now”

He placed a kiss on my forehead, “I love you, my love. Sorry for not being here but now I am back”

“I love you too” I smiled at him and he pulled me closer.    

[roger-that-cap]

brand new eyes

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: having a penpal in the sixth grade was overdone, in your opinion. and handwritten letters just weren’t convenient. you weren’t happy at all to start talking to some random girl your age across the sea, but once you started, neither of you could find it in you to stop.

warnings: fluff!!!! mutual pining. badly written letters (actually the whole one shot). brief battle with sexuality. a seriously strong connection between two characters (almost soulmate territory here tbh). every single mistake here is 100% mine!

word count: 8.7k!

At first, you were sure that the pen pal letter suggestion for extra credit was stupid. Why would you handwrite a letter when you could send an email? Why would you send a letter by mail that would take much longer? It took two weeks for a handwritten letter to arrive, and only seconds for an email. It didn’t make any sense.

And then you got your first letter.

You realized very quickly why handwriting was what your teachers asked for. You never knew that handwriting could be so vulnerable, so open. You had never seen letters that were so loopy, so delicate. That letter was written so neatly and so personally even if the girl who had written it hadn’t meant it to be that way, and you knew that a computer even with all of its special fonts wouldn’t be able to do that.

You understood why the handwritten rule was there.

But you didn’t like it when it was your turn to craft something so beautiful.

It wasn’t a competition by any means, but you didn’t want your letter to look anything like the words you scratched down into your notebooks. You wanted them to be neat and pretty and most of all understandable for the girl behind the pen and across the sea, because she had done the same for you.

By the time you stopped ogling over the letters and started actually reading the words that the girl had written, you learned her name. You learned it within the first line, actually.

Wanda Maximoff.

She was obviously from Sokovia, she spoke English as her second language, and she had an older twin brother that she both adored and was annoyed by. She was in the equivalent of your grade in her country, and she liked to cook with her parents. The letter was basic and slightly elementary, just an introduction to what she was willing to share with a stranger that lived thousands of miles away.

But that didn’t make it any less special.

You started on your return letter minutes after you let her pretty words sink in.

You drafted your letter and let it sit for an hour without you looking at it, and then came back to it only to cross things out and revise it, and then put it on the expensive paper that your mother had bought for you. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours. It started with a greeting, your name, and then into the same sort of things that she spoke about in her own letter, the things that people that went to school with you had learned in passing over the years.

It felt like giving someone the rundown of your uneventful life so far in the simplest of ways. It felt like someone getting to know you as you wanted them to, because you were telling your story. There was no other side, or truth, or lie, just what your pen and your brain decided to write. It was controlled chaos. And you adored it.

Your print was easy to read. It wasn’t loopy like hers or as “girlish”, as one of your classmates said when you brought both letters to school to get an extra one hundred. It wasn’t fancy and alluring like hers, but there was still something magical on the pseudo-aged parchment.

You sent it off to the post office the next day, and you put her letter on your desk. 

§§§

By the time that your third letter from her came, you already were drafting your own. It came straight to your mailbox and when you checked the mail that morning, you were ecstatic to see it waiting for you, like a pet waiting for it’s person to come home. As usual, it started off with the gentle scrawl of your name, just a bit larger than all of the rest of the words that were on the page.

I can’t believe that it’s already been weeks of us writing. We started in August, and it’s nearing the end of October. Speaking of, is it starting to get cold there for you? It’s already cold for us. Our grandmother always makes us the best tea and soup when it gets cold outside, and I could send you the recipe if you wanted!

My brother and I are curious about one thing, and we hope that we get your answer in time, but, is Halloween really a thing? We have both heard of it, but we’ve never done it here. It sounds magical. I’ve always wanted to dress up however I wanted and get candy for it. If I were to do it, I would probably be a Disney Princess, maybe Merida. Sadly, we don’t do that here. Does it really happen in the United States, or is that a movie thing?

Hopefully you don’t mind my questions much, or my short letter. Pietro likes to read over my shoulder while I write and receive the letters, and I like to write at the kitchen table. There’s no escaping him. You’ve never talked about siblings, do you have them?

The rest of the letter was like that, aloof yet curious and bouncing around all the same, and then signed with her always rushed conclusion, which was nearly the same every time.

You read it and put the letter in the box that you had bought from a thrift store, a box just big enough for the size of the neatly folded and tied off letters that she gave you. You clipped the box shut and put it back under your desk, and then started working on your response.

Instead of just a letter, you sent her a letter in a small box that had the candy that you had gotten on Halloween night, and the mask that went with the rest of your costume. It wasn’t the Disney Princess that Wanda wanted to dress up as, but it was something. It was your something.

§§§

As the December portion of your letter writing, you and your penpal were supposed to learn of the other’s traditions during the Holidays, whether you or them celebrated or not. A huge slide show about the culture of your Sokovian friend was supposed to be shown, and you knew that there would be a lot of the same PowerPoints, a lot of the same pictures and sayings and explanations. You wanted something different. You also had no idea if Wanda did Christmas, but you had to ask.

Wanda,

I’m sure that you know that our assignment now is to present a slide show about what our penpal does during the Holiday season, but because I don’t know whether you celebrate Diwali or Christmas or Hanukkah, I’ll start with asking you about New Years, because I’ve never met a person who didn’t celebrate New Years.

What do you do on New Years Eve? I’ll start by telling you that I watch the ball drop with my family, eat food, and drink cider after it hits midnight. It’s a big deal here for us, because the new year is a time for self revolution, apparently. I’ve never done a New Years resolution, but maybe I’ll do one this year. Have you ever done one?

I know that food is very big over in Sokovia, so what kind of food do you traditionally have when you’re celebrating? Do you like it? Can you cook it yourself? Because I know that you have the same questions for me that you have to put in before you leave for Winter Break, I’ll answer my own questions.

And you did. You were thorough, partly because you thought that it was kind of you to do so because she should get a good grade, and also because she had written that she was thankful for your descriptions on multiple occasions. You had noticed that she was the more whimsical writer and that you came off as the more grounded one, and it intrigued you.

You wondered if you two would come off that way in person to other people, if you ever got the chance to meet.

When her letter came two weeks later, wrapped in aged string as always, you skipped to your bedroom, already pulling the box out from under the table and starting to read it. You smiled through the whole thing.

In her own way, not as precise or even in order as you, she had told you everything you needed to do a good slide show about Sokovia during the Holidays.

§§§

You were emotional at the end of the year. Not because you were leaving the sixth grade and going to a new building in the school and leaving behind your kind teachers, but because the pen pal assignment was over.

No other assignment had been so important to you, or eye opening. You were only twelve years old, but you were old enough to know that you had never found a friend like you had in Wanda, who was still thousands of miles away. No one else, not even the people that stood feet apart from you, offered you friendship like Wanda Maximoff did.

You couldn’t stop writing to her.

It was your turn to send a letter, the final letter that you were supposed to send, and then her closing letter was supposed to come two weeks later. You couldn’t just close it. Your entire mind was screaming at you to not close the book that you had hardly started yet.

So, as your pen rested on the parchment paper (without drafting first), you lifted it up, and changed your mentality from a “goodbye” to a hopeful and questioning one, as you hoped that she felt the same and wanted to talk just as much as you did.

Wanda,

It’s the end of the year. Technically, we should be done with our letters because it’s the end of the year, and the assignment is graded. This should be a closing letter, but I don’t think that our friendship was ever dictated by the grades that we got. We were always closer than all of the other pen pals at school that I knew, and I was hoping that you would want to continue writing.

You couldn’t write much more after that, because your pen was shaking and you were starting to get in the danger zone of dropping tears on the paper. If this was your last letter to Wanda, you wanted it to be pretty. Just half as pretty as she always made hers, if you could manage it.

You sent it off the next morning after finding an old string that was nearly the same colors as hers and getting your friend across the street to hold it down and color the outside of it for you.

§§

A part of you wanted to say that you wouldn’t have been expecting to still write handwritten letters to a girl in Sokovia in the ninth grade, but you certainly were. While everyone else in your class had lost contact after the assignments were done or tried and failed to keep contact afterwards, you and Wanda continued talking all through the years.

It astounded your parents, who were sure that in the beginning, you were just obsessed with someone who was your age and who wasn’t exactly like you. They thought for sure that you would have lost interest in talking to Wanda, but after three straight years, gas spent taking you to the post office, and money spent on special stamps and the same paper, they were starting to finally get the hint.

Because you were so close with Wanda, you hardly had close friends in your neighborhood, and maybe two or three at school. There was no one that knew you like Wanda did, and no one that knew Wanda like you did. One particular letter where you confessed probably the worst thing you had ever done to her that no one else knew was what finally let you know that she was the most judgement-free person in the world, and that you would do anything to keep her. You would never forget how the letter went, and how her response sounded. 

Wands, 

I’ve done something terrible. I may have accidentally gotten involved with a boy who already had a girlfriend, and I had no idea. I had literally no idea, and today she just called me out of nowhere and started crying over the phone to me, and I had no idea that he was with her. At all. It was so pitiful, and she’s not mad, and she says that she won’t tell anyone it was me, but still. She seemed to really like him, and I think I may have just ruined a relationship. I have no idea what to do, and all I feel is guilt. Nothing more or less. Should I send her something? Give her a gift card? I feel terrible because she was just so sweet about it.

The letter went on and on with your scripted rambling, so repetitive and panicked that you were shocked to know that Wanda had, in fact, read the entire thing. She got a message back to you rather quickly, and that made you both nervous about her verdict and glad, because you felt like with an answer so quick, she must not have judged you too harshly. You remembered opening it with shaky hands, and inhaling and exhaling when her first words after your nickname were “breath in” and “breathe out”. 

Wanda once said that writing to you was like writing to a diary who always wrote back, and you couldn’t agree more. She knew everything, and she never judged. And, when the time came for her to put all of her eggs in your basket of trust, you did the same for her. 

You distinctly remembered getting the few letters that you kept at the bottom of your letter stack, even though you liked to have them in chronological order. In the eighth grade, Wanda was having a crisis over her sexuality. Being anything but straight in Sokovia wasn’t the best thing to be, and you knew that. The first letter she ever sent you about her sexuality had dried spots on it, where she had obviously cried. Her handwriting wasn’t anywhere as neat as it usually was, and it sent you into a state of panic. 

We talk to each other about everything, so here I am asking for your advice because I won’t be getting anything here. I know that usually we keep our letters formal for aesthetic purposes, but I can’t this time. Also, no one other than you can read this. 

From there, she told you that she was sure that she liked women, and that she was even more sure that her parents would be upset at her. She told you that she had been dwelling on it for a while, thinking about it and having it weigh heavily on her mind. She was all over the board with it, from her parents being upset to her being afraid that you were going to be opposed to it as well, or tell her that she was “too young to think that way”. She ended the letter by telling you that you were the first person that she had ever told. 

You started your letter with your own confession, and Wanda Maximoff was the first one you ever told, too. You were past having your crisis, though, and you helped her through hers without a second of complaints. You always wished that you had someone to help you when you were down and questioning yourself, so you knew that you would be that for Wanda without hesitation. 

You two grew together even more, and by the ninth grade, you both knew that there wasn’t going to be anything in the world that could stop your letters. 

You came home one day after a long day and checked your mailbox out of habit, knowing that a letter wasn’t due for a few more days. But there it was, wrapped and sitting pretty for you. Your name was scrawled beautifully on the front in the handwriting that got better and better with every year, but you would recognize it anywhere. A smile grew onto your face as you walked to your front door, unlocking it and rushing inside to get to your desk. Of course, your name came first in the loopy letters.

I hope you’re doing alright! Things have been busy over here on my side of things, but never busy enough to not write you back. I just wondered, have been wondering for a while, really, if we were ever going to meet. We’ve been writing to each other for years, but I’ve never seen a picture of you. I know everything about you, but I’ve never met you. You are my best friend in the entire world, but I’ve never heard your voice. One day I would love to finally meet you. Would you be open to thinking about one of us flying out? Maybe after school is over for the both of us, we could make it happen. Number  

It was much longer than that, but that was what caught your attention, more than her description of her busy week did. You read the letter three times. And then again. Your heart thumped in your chest as you tried to get a grip on yourself, irrational nervousness gripping your throat like an iron fist.

You knew the day was coming. You knew that it was. You two didn’t know what the other looked like at all, and neither of you had ever asked. Sometimes, you thought about it, but other times you found that it really didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what she looked like because she was the best friend you had ever had, so you forgot about it. But that wasn’t what worried you.

The thought of meeting her nearly put you in cardiac arrest. You couldn’t meet her. What if you met and you two were totally bored of each other? What if how close you were on paper didn’t reflect at all in real life? What if you two found roadblocks in conversation that you never saw before? You didn’t want to meet her, not at all. You were terrified of it.

Because if you didn’t connect with Wanda on sight, then you doubted that you would ever be able to connect with anyone else. If you were wrong about Wanda being your person and her being yours, you would be crushed. If you figured out that the person who you gave your all for didn’t like you anymore after meeting you, you would die on the spot. You couldn’t afford to find it out.

You sat at your desk for an hour after reading her letter, smoothing your hand over the paper like you always did before you wrote your response. You knew what you needed to say, you just didn’t know how to say it.

What she had already written helped you, too. She was implying that they met up after graduation, which was still years away. You had time to hold off on it, to not talk about it for a while. You had some stall time in the bank, for sure. And you were going to use it.

§§§

You made the mistake of not putting the letter in your box.

Your mother came into your room, and she saw the letter. Your desk was typically off limits, so you were upset that she read it anyway, but what she said led all anger out of your body and made way for fear.

“You should totally go see your friend, sweetie!”

“What?”

“I’d pay for you to fly out,” your mom said. “I’d come with you, but I would pay for you to fly out and see your friend. You’ve been writing each other for three years now, and you’ve never seen each other. You guys should do it.”

“You’d fly me out to Sokovia?”

“You’re a great kid, of course I would.” You took the letter from her hands gently and put it in the box, and she gave you a look. “You don’t want to go, do you?”

You didn’t answer.

“Why not?”

“I’m scared to meet her,” you admitted plainly, and then your mother gave you a look.

“She seems so excited to, after all these years. She’s such a sweet girl, what are you worried about?”

You couldn’t answer that. Your fears were your own, and they sounded ridiculous out loud. They made no sense to everyone else, and sometimes not even to you. Wanda Maximoff was nothing but sweet and kind and a good friend, and there you were, trying to blow her off because you were scared of a possible lack of face to face connection.

“Can we just drop it?”

And you did. In fact, all four of you did, until later.

§§§

By the end of your junior year, you were done for. Not because of tests or applications or any of that, it was because you realized that you were in deep for Wanda Maximoff.

It all made sense. The need to keep writing to her, the excitement you had felt getting a letter since sixth grade, the way you marveled over her penmanship and loved everything that she said and did. You were so in love with her, and it was irreversible. You were in love with her and what the two of you created together. 

And you couldn’t lose that because of a bad meeting. 

You avoided the topic of going there or Wanda coming to you, and you finally got each other’s numbers so that you could text on some international texting app, but primarily, it was still the heartfelt letters with the occasional heart stamps and constant string coming your way. And you wouldn't haven’t wanted anything different. 

 You sat at your desk on the last day of school as you wrote to her, writing about how you were about to watch some of your slightly older friends graduate in a few days. You also mentioned how you were excited to be a senior and get through your last year of high school just so that you could go and do whatever it was that you wanted to do, because you were only seventeen, and you didn’t know anything. 

 Sunshine, 

I can’t wait to get out of high school. It’s not bad, just boring. I wish the people here were like you, and then maybe I could actually carry a conversation with them. Have you told your family yet? I told mine. My mom was… shocked to say the least, but she was fine with it. I think she might have suspicions about us writing to each other now, but who cares? I want to know if you’re alright. 

How’s your new job going? I know you were excited to get one, so I hope it’s treating you well. It’s funny that you and Piet work across the mall from each other. I knew it was gonna be like that, even though you said it wouldn’t be! You two are inseparable, it’s so cute. Does he have any idea what he wants to do after we get out of school? 

 I kind of think that I want to start my own business. A flower shop, maybe. You know how I sort of have a green thumb. I think it would be good for me to own something. What do you think? 

You wrote for about thirty minutes more, answering the questions she had asked you in a previous letter and signing your name at the bottom, a small smile on your face as you thought about her and her brother making food together like they always did. 

You loved her. You really did. 

§§§

 It was in the middle of your senior year when you realized what the problem with her coming was. You had been keeping it so far in the back of your mind that you didn’t even realize that the alarms were blaring in the back of your head. 

  You knew that if you saw Wanda in person once that you would never be able to let her go. You would have to pick up and move to her country or she would come to yours, and it would kill your mother for you to move. So, that would mean that you would be asking for Wanda to leave her own family to be with you, and you couldn’t be selfish.  

 So, you would be selfish in a way that was also selfless by holding off on seeing her. 

 You hadn’t told her that you loved her, and you planned on never admitting it. You were sure she kind of knew, even just a little, but she never said anything. The way that you were holding onto the idea of her probably said enough for her to know. You just hoped that she knew that you were in love with her as a friend, at least. Wanda was the type who needed to know that they were loved, and she so was. 

 You loved her without even knowing what she looked like. You loved her without knowing whether she had a nasty habit or if she was a neat freak. You loved her without seeing her in a dress or in your favorite color or even looking into her eyes. You had never even heard her voice before, but that didn’t matter at all. You fell in love with her hand writing, then the way that she wrapped her letters, and then her words themselves. And then, you just were in love with Wanda Maximoff. All of her. All that you knew. And the things that you didn’t.  

 You thought about a confession letter for a long time. You were terrified of it, to say the least, because what if it backfired? What if she thought that you were only interested because she came out to you? What if she thought that you didn’t mean it at all? 

Or worse, what if she just completely didn’t feel that way at all? What if the feeling she got when she wrote to you was nothing but platonic? That would be the biggest nightmare of all, and you had no idea how you were ever going to be able to pick up your fancy pen and put it to your special parchment after reading that. 

By the time that you finally stopped wrestling with yourself about whether you were going to tell her that you were in love with her, you got a letter in the mail. A heart stamp was on the outside and it was tied with the string it always was, and the familiarity calmed your racing heart. You opened it gently, like you did with all of the letters you got, and then you saw her familiar scrawl. 

How could someone’s handwriting feel like home? 

Moonlight, 

I would love to tell you about everything that’s been happening here, but I believe that it’s rather boring compared to what’s been bursting at the seams in my own mind. With every letter that I’ve ever written to you since we were thirteen, I’ve hesitated with my pen over telling you what I know has been true for years. I think that, finally, I know that I have something to say to you. I’ve always wanted to admit this to you, ever since the seventh grade. 

 I think that I fell in love with you, a long, long, time ago. I think that I know I did. I haven’t told you, and I never intended to tell you, because I was scared. I’m still scared here, as I write this letter, but I can’t keep it to myself anymore. 

  Pietro already knows, but he knew before I even did. I’m sure it has something to do with us being so in sync, that he knew where my heart, love, and loyalties were before I even knew myself. I tell you everything, and something as monumental as falling in love with someone, I believe that you should know. But I couldn’t tell you. Not in the beginning, and apparently, not even after a year or two. 

  I’ve never seen you or heard your voice or held your hand, but I don’t need that to know that I truly have fallen in love with the person that you are. You are a beautiful person with the most gorgeous soul I have ever had the privilege of talking to, and I think that we have stumbled upon a connection that we may never see again, if you feel the same way. 

 If this made you uncomfortable in any way, please tell me. I’m sorry if this came on too strong, or too up front. I never want to make you upset. 

 It’s okay if you don’t want to carry on writing to me after this letter. I just thought that I needed to tell you after all this time. We never lie to each other, and I think that this lie to save me from possible embarrassment or losing the greatest friend I have ever had has expired. Thank you as always for reading, Moonlight. 

 Your Sunshine, Wanda. 

Your jaw was slacked, and your mouth was open. Your heart was beating so quickly, but it wasn’t frantic. Your mind was going at a thousand miles a minute, but you were calm. You were supposed, but you weren’t. It simply felt… right. It felt like you had secretly been expecting it all along, like your soul had known the whole time, or maybe even like it had known that you felt the exact same way. It felt like you were receiving news that you had already heard about. 

But that didn’t take away any from the pure elation that you felt. You set the letter down so that you didn’t accidentally wrinkle it, and then put your head in your hands to hide your smile and think, like they would help you any. 

  She loves me. Wanda loves me. And not in the way that friends loved each other, that’s not how she loved you. She felt what you had been feeling, a bond so strong that it could be felt on paper. 

  Your hands shook as you reread the letter. You scanned over it for a second time, a third time, and you were tearing up by the fifth, finally setting it down again and leaving it on your desk. It didn’t deserve the beautiful darkness of the box where it’s predecessors went, not yet. Probably not ever. You would have framed it in the moment, if you could have. 

  Part of you was glad that she admitted it first. You were going to, one day, maybe. But the worst part was the hypothetical wait for the letter to cross the pond. Whoever sent the confession letter would have to wait about two weeks for a response, and that felt like forever. You knew that just as much as she did, and she still took the chance to do it. 

So, with the most fond and gentle smile on your face, you took out your special pen, wrote Sunshine as the entrance, and then professed your own love right back at her, trying as hard as you possibly could to make it as beautiful and raw for her as you felt on the inside, and as the one that she gave you. But, all you could think of were the first two sentences, but you knew that you were going to go for much longer than that. 

  Sunshine, 

Oh, Wanda. How I wish we were both brave enough to do this earlier. 

§§§

 By the end of your senior year, you two were dancing around each other, taking it slow, as if you both hadn’t professed your love for each other. You kept writing your steady letters to each other, the same nicknames, the same doting words and pretty scratched across the paper with dark ink. 

For the most part, nothing changed. But neither of you could deny the way that you wanted to see each other. And so, your time was up. You had to stop messing around. 

  The first time the two of you planned to see each other, it was supposed to happen over that summer break. It was supposed to be a nice experience for everyone, at a time that was actually pretty convenient. 

  And then, right during the week she was supposed to come, her aunt passed away, right in her sleep. It didn’t even come to your mind to think about rescheduling so fast, and that was the first time you had ever gotten an email from Wanda. She emailed you the morning that she found out, saying that she would rather send the first email than have you show up at the airport upset because you didn’t know she wasn’t coming. She was able to resell her ticket and you assured her that it was totally okay for her to not be coming, and you gave her condolences, as well. Wanda was very close to her family, and you knew that she felt that loss. 

  The next time the plans fell through, it was because you were going to surprise her. Your mom paid for your ticket, and you had finally grown out of your own mind and realized that it was going to be what it was regarding meeting Wanda. But, when you emailed her two nights before, spilling the beans because you didn’t want to just go to the airport without knowing how the hell to get around, you got a quick response. Turns out, she wasn’t anywhere near her house, or the airport. She was on a marine biology trip in some waters off the coast of Romania, and she hadn’t gotten the chance to write you all about it yet. You begrudgingly canceled the trip and told her that of course, it was alright. That night, your mom assured you that the two of you would just try again later.

 But then life happened. You went off to culinary school, a last minute yet sure decision after Wanda had taught you that there was so much more to love about food other than the taste. She had your new address and you had hers, because she moved from Sokovia to Italy for her marine biology major. The letters came and went faster, with the smaller amount of mileage. 

   Long story short, neither of you had enough money to go and spend thousands on a trip, and not even one helping the other out or splitting the cost helped much. Wanda was getting increasingly nervous about whether it was ever going to happen, and though she never stated it directly, it was very obvious. You were getting there, too. 

 The thing that kept you going was the letters. The same as they had always been on her end and yours, they were the one constant in your life. Wherever you went, you knew that her letters would follow you, and that you would still write from your heart and send your own across the sea over to some place in Europe. You knew that as long as her letters were lengthy and detailed and that if she took the time to wrap them as gently as she had been, that you two were strong. And as long as you kept giving advice and writing her entire short stories about you week, she knew that you were still hers. 

  You would be hers until your heart stopped beating, and long after that. You were there for her for as long as she wanted you to be, and that was widely known. 

§§§

It took four years for you to get back home and in a place where you could afford a ticket in or out. Wanda took a little longer, but that didn’t matter. It only gave you even more time to save and plan for when she came, and the date came. 

You were both twenty two when you bought her the winning ticket. You were flying her out to Florida for a week and a half. The Keys, to be exact. You knew that she was going to love it and the beautiful waters that came with it, and it was away from the meddling eyes and mouths of your family, the ones who had been routing for you from afar (and in the beginning, behind your back). It was just going to be the two of you in a condo, and you knew that it was going to be heaven on earth. 

 Now, hell on earth was the anticipation of waiting at the airport. You had no idea what Wanda Maximoff looked like, partially because it didn’t matter while you two wrote, and also because you wanted to see her for the first time in person. You two had a flare for dramatic romantics, another reason that you two clicked so well. 

  You stood with a sign that you had made the night before with paint that you had mixed yourself into her favorite shade of red, a scarlet, almost pink color. You were in a sundress because it was sweltering outside, and you were almost nervous about how she would take the heat after being somewhere so cold all of her life. You were rocking back and forth on your feet without even noticing, and your stomach growling was the last of your worries. Your heart was racing and your hands were shaking, but you willed them to stay still so that she could at least have a chance of reading it. 

  You were sure that you were about to pass out. It seemed like it had been millennia and a day all the same with her in your life. Everything that you had written each other was really about to come to life, after ten long years. You felt almost like it wasn’t real at all, like you were about to be woken up by your alarm back in your apartment over at your old school. But it was very, very real, and all the receipts and your racing heart advocated for the truth in it all. 

The gates opened, and all of a sudden, people were lazily walking out, as one would do after a long flight. You were certain that the woman who was standing next to you could hear you start to slightly hyperventilate, but you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered to you in that moment was Wanda. 

  A man came up from behind you and bumped you, and he said his apologies while you bent down to pick up the sign. Despite your nervousness, you stopped to tell him that it was okay, sign still face down on the floor. He grinned at you and then frowned when he looked up, causing you to mirror his expression. 

 Your name. It was clear as day, accented, close, and sounded like a sigh of relief and wonder floating in the wind. It came from a woman you didn’t know the voice of, and just like that, you remembered what you were doing. You left the sign on the floor, stood up, and turned around as fast as you could, eyes slightly wild as they soaked in everything about the woman standing in front of you. 

  Her hair was almost a cross between light brown and light red, even in the fake lights of the airport. She had light makeup on and she looked a little tired from the flight, but the look of elation on her face wiped it all away. Her pink lips were curved into an open mouthed smile, like she had forgotten the words while they were already halfway to her tongue. Your heart raced as you looked at her, and you didn’t even need to question who she was. Or who she was to you. You couldn’t look at anything but her face, the face you had been missing so achingly without ever seeing it before, the face that you knew was bound to give you comfort that you had never felt one in your life, until the end of your days. Her eyes were wide and a clear blue as they stared back at you, reflecting your exact expression, and you sensed that the two of you had already synced up and gotten on the same page, just like you had both predicted.

 “O-oh my god,” you breathed out, just inches away from her. “Wanda!” You went in for an embrace at the same time, both of you somehow knowing which way to lean your head to avoid collision, and just where to put your arms. You fought shaking when you held her, your nerves completely shot at it finally happening. You were actually with Wanda, in an airport, hugging her like there was all the time to spend in the world. “Oh my god,” you repeated, and you felt her squeeze you a little closer to her. You could have cried in that moment. 

 “You,” she pulled back from you to take your face in her hands, her blue eyes scanning over your face like she was studying priceless art. In the back of your mind, you wondered if it was the way she looked when she watched the animals underwater. She shook her head slowly, eyes welling up with the thinnest layer of tears as her lips turned up into a smile. “You are beautiful.”

  Your heart skipped a beat as you looked downwards, feeling yourself get hot at the bold and sincere compliment. You knew that anything more than about three words was going to smoke you stutter “Wanda, have you seen yourself?” She laughed, a soft sound that you had imagined hearing so many times that you almost thought you had made it up, until you saw the upturn of her mouth and the mirth in her eyes.

 “I’m- I can’t believe I’m actually here,” Wanda breathed out, and you felt the same exact way. How had you pulled it off? After nearly a decade of pining that was mutual and writing to each other about every little detail in your lives, she was finally right in front of you, where you could see her and touch her. 

  “How’d you know it was me?” You asked after a second of grappling for something to say. “I didn’t have my sign up when you came.” 

 The smile that was on her face went from being flat out joyful to content, almost peaceful. It rubbed off on you immediately as you leaned back into her touch, ignoring all of the people bustling around in the busy airport. “I just knew that it was you.” 

§§§

For the entirety of the day Wanda arrived, all the two of you did was stare at each other and hold onto each other, like you were both equally terrified that the gods were going to come down from wherever they resided to split you up again. There was hardly even any talking when you arrived at the condo, and it felt natural. The two of you had already spoken so much, and now you needed to catch up on just seeing her. You’ve seen her soul, her mind, her heart, and now you were seeing her face. It felt like you had always known it. 

 But you were the first one to speak as you held hands on the deck, her thumb drawing subconscious hearts on the back of your palm. “You have a way with words, sunshine.” The name contrasted to the sky, which was dark but illuminated with an almost full moon and stars. The city was mostly behind you, so the natural light was what you got. It was all that you needed. 

 You felt her content fade into joy. “Really?” 

You knew that she was nervous about her English, but to you, it was perfect. From her accent to the way that she sometimes missed connotations that were specific to the language to the idioms that accidentally slipped into your letters, you loved it. “Mhm,” you hummed, leaning your head on her shoulder. “And I never would have imagined that you sounded so… sweet.” 

 “Sweet?” She parroted, and you smiled even though she couldn’t see it. Somehow, you knew that she could feel it, in some strange way. “Can I ask you something?” The answer was yes. It was yes, and it always would be yes. So, you said that. She cleared her throat, a quiet sound that you stored in your memory to keep, simply because she made it. “Did you… did you mean what you wrote?” 

 You were stumped. There had to be hundreds of letters between the two of you, and thousands upon thousands of topics. But you couldn’t question yourself for long, because then you knew exactly what she was talking about. 

  Did you truly love Wanda? The question came up a few times between you and your mother when you were in your first year of culinary school. Were you in love with Wanda Maximoff, or were you in love with the idea of Wanda and the mystery she brought? The question had been brought up, many times by your mother, who was only just making sure that you were being smart, and the answer never once varied. Yes. You loved Wanda Maximoff with every breath you took, every stroke of your pen, every glance at her pretty script. You knew that Wanda was it for you, and seeing her only solidified it. The way your hand fit together like they were the missing parts of a lost artifact made it concrete. The way she gave you everything back and the way you did the same told you everything you needed to know. 

  You leaned off of her shoulder and turned to face her, a soft smile on your face as the moon came out from behind the singular patch of clouds in the night, illuminating her features. You saw her face and her spirit through brand new eyes, and it was wonderful. It was all you could ever ask for. “Wanda,” you started, your voice quiet enough to not disturb the moment, and the sound of waves crashing not too far away. “I’ve loved you since I knew what love was, and I have been in love with you for as long as I knew what the difference between the two really was. Everything that I have ever sent to you, every word, I meant it all. And I’ll mean it for the rest of my life.” 

 She was staring at you blankly, with only a bit of something lingering in her gaze. Then, as soft as a breeze, she was muttering something under her breath in her mother tongue and putting her hand on your face. “Can I kiss you?” 

You ignored the way that your heart surged in your chest. The moon was still out and bright, shining down on the two of you like you had paid for it to be a spotlight. “You never have to ask,” you said, and then, as fluidly and gently as humanly possible, she tilted her head and leaned forward, and you met her halfway. 

§§

You had never been scuba diving before, but Wanda was in her element. She helped you suit up after she told the instructor that she was certified, and then rolled her eyes playfully when he checked behind her work. You cracked a smile. The entire time he was instructing, she was nearly bursting at the seams to get into the water, and the second he said that the two of you were allowed to go, she was holding your hand and asking if you were ready. 

 You never thought that Wanda could look more beautiful than she already had, but in and near the water, she was something else. She was in a state of grace and peace all the same, and you wanted nothing more than for her to be so tranquil, for the rest of her life. All you wanted in return was to be privileged to see it. 

The gods that made you fear a bad trip were actually on your side, because Wanda excitedly pointed out a group of migrating sea turtles, not even paying either of you any mind at all, carrying about through nature. You smiled at them and at her, unable to decide which one was going to be the apple of your eye at the moment. You chose her. 

§§§

You got out of the shower, your skin still slightly damp and the air humid from the heat of the water. You smiled at Wanda when you caught her looking at you, giving you that same blank stare that she had the first night the two of you got there. You stopped in your tracks, giving her the encouraging look that you knew she needed. “You okay, Wands?” 

 “I love you.” 

Your breath hitched. It was the first time she had spoken the words aloud, and you both knew it. The weight of the words and the confession felt so true, so genuine, that it went straight to your heart and made it swell with warmth. A small yet generous smile stretched onto your face as you felt everything fall into place. “I love you, Wands.” 

  “More than I’ve ever loved anything,” she continued, like she hadn’t even heard you, and you looked back at her with a doting expression. “And, I’ve been holding off because I don’t know how to say that,” she paused, and then she fell into deep thought. 

 You took a step closer, assuming that the small language barrier had come up. When it took her more than a few seconds and you saw the little scrunch of confusion between her brows appear, you spoke up. “There’s no rush,” you said gently. 

“If other people were to look at us, they would say that we have only known each other for three days,” she said, and you nodded. “But, I feel that we’ve known each other for thousands of years. I feel that we were made to meet, and that we were always going to no matter what came up. Why else would we both be so focused on talking to each other? I have always seen you as someone special to me, always, but now that we have finally seen each other face to face, I think that my… heart is recognizing you as it’s other part.” 

 You had no words in your mind at that moment, because they were all in your heart. You couldn’t open your mouth to convey the pure shock and relief that you felt at her admitting something that you had been feeling the whole time. You swallowed and felt your eyes burn with tears, but before they could fall past your cheeks, Wanda stood up and wiped them from your face before pulling you close. 

  Nothing mattered. Not the fact that you were still wet and she was in her pajamas, not the fact that you were in a towel, not the fact that the pizza man was knocking at the door. It was you and her, like it always had been in your mind, and Wanda’s too. 

  You were it for her, and she was it for you. And while you hugged it out in that beautiful condo in Florida, you silently thanked your sixth grade English teacher for making you write to a random girl your age all the way across the Atlantic, and you thanked Wanda for being the one who wrote her way right into your life. 

so. uh! hiiii! i hope y’all liked it! i loved writing it, even though she was a lil bit of a challenge, not gonna lie. feedback is always appreciated!!

[bubble-tea-bunny]

sweet talk

[tamaki suoh x reader]

author’s note: been rewatching ouran and found the time to write smth small. basically a really late valentine’s fic lol. i’m drafting an idea for takashi as well atm. maybe kyoya after? ;)

word count: 1,844

At this time of year, the weather is chilly, the air cold even without the presence of wind and warranting the need for a scarf to avoid a red-tipped nose and numb cheeks. Most days are gloomy, the overcast sky glaringly bright and difficult to look at. But today, it would seem the divine hand in charge of the course of the seasons has granted a reprieve, the clouds parting so the sun might wash over the grass that you and Tamaki sit upon currently, in the garden of the Suoh estate.  

The gardeners had finished their tasks this morning, as instructed by Tamaki the night before. It gave you two the opportunity to be out there alone in the afternoon. The hedges are trimmed and tidy, and the smell of freshly cut grass is strong. You inhale deeply, chest puffed, and sigh in satisfaction as the scent reaches your nose. It had been so long since you sat out in a garden, owed to the fact it had been too cold for that lately.

Tamaki chuckles at your enthusiasm and rifles through the picnic basket he’d brought with him. He pushes aside the array of deserts—cake slices, chocolate bars, fruit tarts, and more—their colorful wrappings crinkling loud enough to grab your attention.

“Where is it…” he mutters.

You tilt your head. "Where is what?”

The tip of Tamaki’s tongue sticks out the corner of his mouth, evidence of his concentration, and when he finally finds what he’s searching for, he holds it up like a first place prize, complemented by an exclamation: “Aha!”

It’s a small plastic pouch, clear with red stripes and tied near the top with a matching, shiny red poly ribbon to keep it closed. There’s what you assume to be candy inside, in various colors, but you don’t recognize it. You’re still just as clueless, but you don’t need to voice your question because Tamaki can see the confusion written across your face.

“It’s commoner candy!” he explains. “Well, commoner Valentine’s candy, more specifically.”

You continue to watch, intrigued by what he’s brought, as he pulls at the ribbon to loosen it and opens the pouch, reaching inside for one of the pieces of candy. He holds up the heart-shaped treat, gripped carefully between index finger and thumb, and angles it so you can see what’s written on it: Sweetheart.

Upon realizing there’s wording on it, and that the same must go for every heart in the bag, your eyes light up. “Cute!”

“It is, isn’t it?” Tamaki agrees, voice quiet as he observes the candy. The nickname is printed red though the lettering isn’t too sharp, which gives away that it was done by a machine. “Haruhi got one for all the host club members, and I wanted to share mine with you.”

When he turns to you, amethyst eyes warm like a summer night, you smile. And when he offers the bag of heart candies to you, you eagerly reach in for one. “How thoughtful!” You turn over the piece you picked out: Only You.

“Well, shall we try them together?” Tamaki inquires, and you nod. The two of you pop the candy into your mouths in unison, then sit silently for a moment in contemplation.

It’s… unique, is the best description you can come up with. The powdery, pressed substance is basically a sugar bomb that melts once it comes in contact with your tongue. But it isn’t the quality of sugar you’re accustomed to—it’s far and away from the refined sweetness of the handmade confections stashed away in the picnic basket Tamaki brought along. Still, this mass-produced goody is delightful in its own way, in taste and novelty, for you have never seen such small candies with words on them, and you say as much to your boyfriend, the last traces of the heart candy lingering on your lips which you lick away.

“They’re charming,” you remark, reaching for another piece. “For when you can’t find the words or get them out yourself.” You read what’s written on the yellow heart you grabbed, then turn it to show Tamaki: Be Mine.

Tamaki’s attention briefly diverts down to read it as well, and the corner of his lips lifts in a lopsided grin as he meets your eyes again. “Sure, they can be useful for some people, but I can get by just fine without candy telling me what to say. How could I call myself the king of the host club if I weren’t able to string together pretty words?” Always conducting himself with some semblance of dramatic flare, he puts a hand to his chest, and the sunlight reflects off his eyes in a way that makes it seem like there’s a tear or two forming in the corners.

As usual, his acting is impeccable, and you can’t contain your smile; he’s such a natural. You have no objections to his claim as king of the school’s host club, and if you’re being honest, you wish you had even half the charisma he does, that some of the skill he possesses at waxing lyrical would rub off onto you via proximity alone.

“They would’ve come in handy for me that day I confessed to you,” you admit shyly, and it’s Tamaki’s turn to tilt his head, confused but waiting for you to expound. “These candies say all the things I wanted to say to you then.”

The day you came to terms with your feelings about Tamaki and the day you actually revealed them to him were different, and the time in between had been spent in a state of conflict over whether it was worth mustering up the courage to approach him about it. There was little doubt in your mind that the president of the host club received declarations of love left and right, a routine part of his week, a clockwork consistency like that of waking in the morning and laying down to sleep in the evening. You’re a drop of water in the ocean; what could possibly make you stand out?

For all that, you figured you should confess anyway. Rejection was still an answer and it was better than nothing. At least after the gentle let down (because truly, Tamaki is, without fail, graceful in matters of love, both the reciprocal and the unrequited) your turmoil over what he may say would finally be put at ease.

Though you rehearsed over and over what you would say and how you would say it, the practice ends up being useless, and you weren’t sure why you even bothered. Once you met his kind gaze—expectant and patient, giving you the opportunity to gather the words in the stretching silence that would be oddly too long in any other context—the resolve you had slowly been building on your walk to the meeting point by the fountain crumbled. You tripped over your words at the sight of his tender smile. Tamaki just had that effect on people, and you wished he’d look at you that way always. To be on the receiving end of his affection was to bask in the warmth of a sun that never sets.

It’s a feeling you’re distinctly reminded of now, sitting in the garden on an uncharacteristically sunny day for winter and the center of Tamaki’s attention, and you think you might be set alight from the sheer intensity (due mostly to Tamaki; the sun is poor competition in contrast). He wears that beautifully soft expression, mind clearly having thought back to your confession as yours just had. But it seems his recollection differs slightly, for he presents a counterpoint.

“I thought you handled it perfectly.” He sets the bag of heart candies on the grass and braces himself with his now freed hand, which allows him to lean closer to you. He enters your bubble but you never mind it, and his touch is feather-light as he brushes your hair behind your ear.

You’re unpersuaded, however, and raise a brow. “Really?”

Tamaki chuckles and nods, blonde hair bouncing with the singular motion. “Your eyes spoke for the words you had trouble finding. I might be the one stringing together pretty poetry like diamonds around your neck”—his fingers slide lower to trace the curve of your collarbone left exposed by the cut of your blouse, and you shiver—“but you have no need for words at all, much less the turns of phrases on pieces of candy.”

“Is that why you liked me too?” you ask, remembering his own confession that had followed closely on the heel of yours. You keep your voice hushed because given how close to each other you are, there’s no need for any higher of a volume.

Tamaki hums in confirmation. His index finger delicately taps once, twice, thrice, on the hollow at the base of your throat, a sort of absentminded movement while absorbed in his thoughts, before he once more brings his hand up, cradling your cheek. “You say you’re a drop in the ocean but you’re the drops of morning dew on the roses just outside my bedroom window. My heart flutters to breathe you in.”  

You smile, bashful, and set your hand over his, interlacing your fingers. Your cheeks have darkened in a blush Tamaki would like to kiss. “Okay, I’m convinced,” you concede with a murmur. He’s so close to you now. “When I admitted how I felt, maybe it didn’t go as badly as I thought.”

This elicits another laugh from Tamaki. Instead of acting on his desire to run his lips along your silken skin (there would be time for that later), he settles for a quick peck on your nose, then reaches into the pouch of heart candies, temporarily abandoned but not forgotten. His fingers curl around two pieces and he pulls them both out rather than dropping one, but he sees the words on them before you do since his hand obscures them from your view.

“The powers governing destiny have destined our souls for each other,” he declares. “Because you and me, it’s love.”

He uncurls his fingers to reveal the candy in his palm, and you look down at them. The green one reads You & Me, and the blue one It’s Love. This prompts you to giggle. It’s music to his ears.

“What happened to not needing candy to tell you what to say?” Your tone is playful.

Tamaki shrugs, unable to hide his amused grin. “I pulled them out at random. If this is the universe speaking to me, who would I be to argue?”

You have no counter to this, not that you think there even is one. Destiny is destiny and as Tamaki feeds you one of the hearts and you bite into it, the sugar once more dissolving on your tongue, you can only thank those powers which make the world turn for conferring their blessing upon the two of you in such a deliciously sweet way.