#it's not too late to start writing postcards

[itsnesss]

𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧 | minho (xo,kitty) × fem!reader

summary | during a weekend getaway, unspoken tension between you and minho comes to a head despite his relationship. a stolen kiss leaves you conflicted, torn between your feelings and doing what’s right

warnings | fluff, infidelity, tension, kisses, emotional conflict

word count | 1.6 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The invitation arrived unexpectedly at night. You were about to finish your tasks when your phone buzzed with a message in the group chat you shared with your friends.

Min Ho: "Hey, losers. This weekend, I’m inviting you to my dad’s cabin. Before you start making pathetic plans, confirm who’s coming. It’s going to be epic."

You stared at the message, surprised. Min Ho didn’t usually organize things like this… or at least, he didn’t invite everyone. Yuri was the first to reply.

Yuri: "Of course, we’re coming! Although I can’t believe you’re being generous. Is this a joke?"

Juliana: "I’m in! I wouldn’t miss it!"

Q: "Count me in."

Then, a message from Stella, his girlfriend, appeared.

Stella: "It’ll be fun. 💕"

For a moment, you hesitated. There was something about the idea of spending a weekend with Min Ho that made you feel… nervous. For months, there had been this strange tension between you two: glances that lasted longer than they should, little jokes only you understood, and an electricity you tried to ignore. But he had a girlfriend. And you weren’t that kind of person.

Still, you finally typed: "I’m in."

Min Ho: "Good choice. See you Friday at 5 PM. Don’t be late.

The weekend came quickly. Everyone gathered in the KISS parking lot, where Min Ho waited with his cars. Stella took the passenger seat, and you ended up in the back, squeezed between Yuri and Juliana. During the ride, Min Ho drove with a confidence that was as infuriating as it was attractive, throwing sarcastic comments that seemed aimed directly at you.

"Ready for the best weekend of your life?" he asked, briefly glancing back at you with a smug grin.

"I don’t know, Min Ho. You’ll have to try really hard to impress me," you replied, crossing your arms.

The "cabin" turned out to be a luxury villa in the middle of the forest, with huge windows, modern furniture, and a lake view straight out of a postcard. "Welcome to paradise," Min Ho said, spreading his arms wide.

The afternoon passed with board games, walks by the lake, and laughter. Stella was more interested in her phone than the group, leaving Min Ho free to talk to you more than he should have. His comments seemed harmless, but there was something in his tone and the way he looked at you that made your heart beat faster than usual.

When night fell, Yuri suggested using the outdoor jacuzzi. "It’s the perfect way to end the day!"

"I hope you all brought decent swimsuits," Min Ho said, throwing you a teasing look.

"I hope you talk less," you shot back, meeting his gaze.

The jacuzzi was surrounded by warm lights that gave the garden a tranquil atmosphere. Everyone got in, laughing, and for a while, you managed to relax. Min Ho, as always, dominated the conversation with exaggerated stories, but his eyes kept finding yours. That invisible connection you’d both been ignoring was there, growing stronger by the minute.

One by one, your friends began to leave the jacuzzi. Yuri and Juliana were the first, saying they were cold. Then Q, who yawned dramatically before saying goodnight. Finally, Stella said, "I’m going to bed, love. Don’t stay too long," planting a kiss on Min Ho’s cheek before disappearing into the villa.

Now, you were alone with him. You tried to focus on the starry sky, but the silence between you was too heavy. Finally, Min Ho broke the ice.

"Why do you always do that?"

You turned to him, confused. "Do what?"

"Pretend like nothing matters to you," he said, leaning against the edge of the jacuzzi as he stared at you.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about, Min Ho," you replied, crossing your arms.

"Yes, you do," he insisted, with that infuriating smile that made your heart race and drove you crazy at the same time.

"If you’re looking for a fight, find someone else," you retorted, turning your gaze back to the water.

But he didn’t back down. "I’m not looking for a fight. I just want to understand why you act like you don’t feel the same way I do."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Min Ho, you have a girlfriend."

"That doesn’t answer my question," he said, leaning a little closer to you.

You looked him straight in the eye, trying to stay calm. "Because it doesn’t make sense, Min Ho. We’re different. You’re… you. And I don’t want complications."

"Complications?" he repeated, as if he couldn’t believe it. "Is that what you think I am?"

"No," you admitted softly. "But all of this would be. I don’t want to be the reason someone gets hurt."

For a moment, Min Ho didn’t say anything. He just looked at you, a mix of frustration and something else in his eyes. Finally, he spoke. "Do you know what your problem is? You always try to do the right thing, even when it’s not what you want."

"And that’s a bad thing, according to you?" you replied, raising an eyebrow.

"No, but…" he began, then stopped. He sighed, as if he was about to confess something important. "I’ve been trying to ignore this for months. But every time I’m near you, it’s like nothing else exists."

His words left you breathless. You wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. And then, before you could think about what you were doing, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow, intense, and full of everything you both had been holding back. His hands gently cupped your face, while the world around you seemed to disappear. But just as you were starting to lose yourself in the moment, reality hit you like a bucket of cold water.

You pulled away abruptly, your heart pounding. "This shouldn’t have happened," you said, moving away from him.

Min Ho looked at you, confused. "Why not?"

"Because you have a girlfriend, Min Ho. Stella trusts you. I can’t be that person."

"And what about what I feel? Or what you feel?" he asked, his voice softer this time.

"That doesn’t matter. It can’t matter," you whispered, your eyes filled with a sadness you couldn’t hide.

You quickly got up, wrapping the towel around your body. "I’m sorry, but this isn’t right."

Without waiting for a response, you walked back to the villa, leaving Min Ho alone. His words, and the warmth of his kiss, echoed in your mind as you walked away. This shouldn’t have happened. It couldn’t happen. And yet, a part of you wished things were different.

[sweetkpopmusings]

stray kids soulmate aus | l. minho <3

a/n: minho is for real the love of my life...that gent is so peculiar and he means everything to me <333 i really had to collect myself while writing this because eeeeeeeee my minho feels have been so strong :,,,-) i can't believe the skz soulmate au series is complete now ! i hope they have brought you lots of joy, and thank you for all the kind words you've shared <3333 pics not mine~

content: fluff, soulmate au | wc: 2.3k | warnings: none really! | pairing: soulmate!minho x gn!reader | requests: open

♡ chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin ♡

until you meet your soulmate, you receive one object per year that is a clue to who they are.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

minho’s favorite day of the year was always the day he received his clue about you.

from a young age, minho fell in love with the puzzle of it all. slowly but surely, he developed a ritual for unpacking each clue. he paid attention to every detail, taking thorough notes and letting his mind run wild with theories, no matter how ridiculous they seemed. he recorded everything in a notebook, which was one of his most prized possessions. it chronicled every thought he had about his soulmate, and, whenever he felt sentimental, he’d flip through the pages, smiling fondly as he watched his love turn from something childish into something solid, like the love he felt in his heart now.

minho’s love grew steadily over time, spiking when he received certain clues that were so clearly tied to his soulmate’s personality. once, during his middle school years, the clue was a polaroid you had taken. even though he wasn’t sure what it was of–maybe your bedroom wall or somewhere you spent a lot of time at–minho knew that the image was of a place near and dear to your heart. today, minho flipped through the pages, sighing happily when his eyes rested on that very polaroid. he memorized every centimeter of the image long ago.

unboxing today’s clue felt no different from all the unboxings before. after turning the pages forward to a blank one, minho settled into his chair. butterflies filled his stomach when he held a new clue for the first time because he felt as though he were one step closer to holding his soulmate. inhaling briefly to steady his excitement, he deftly unwrapped the package, surprised to hold a planner in his hands.

“huh,” minho chuckled, “let’s see what you’re getting up to.”

he couldn’t believe his clue would be so blatant about his soulmate’s identity. it felt entirely lucky that, just beyond the cover of this planner, would be details to his soulmate’s life, to you, whoever you were. minho smiled as he flipped through the pages, running his fingertips over your handwriting. he didn’t want to intrude too much, but he reveled in learning about the life his soulmate led. this must be it, the final clue. 

minho’s suspicion–or, rather, hope–was confirmed when he returned to the front of the planner. on the corner of the front page, he read the most beautiful words he’d ever encountered: if lost, please return to y/n l/n. thank you!

beneath your name was your phone number. not wanting to break his ritual, minho scribbled his observations into his notebook. while he didn’t need to theorize your name, he entertained himself by theorizing about the grocery store you went to and what your favorite takeout restaurant smelled like. admittedly, now that he had your name, he also started a list of potential nicknames for you. once he was satisfied with his entry, he picked up his phone. finally, he had the opportunity to test his theories against someone real.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

your yearly clue arrived earlier than you expected. glancing at the clock, you decided to risk being late to work. how could you resist the opportunity to start your day with something connected to your soulmate?

rather than a full package, your clue was sent to you in a small envelope, no bigger than a postcard. inside was a piece of paper with faded designs on the border. it was hard to make out exactly what the images were, but you could tell it was stationary that was popular when you were a young child. it was also apparent that the handwriting on the page belonged to a kid, maybe an elementary school student. your heart jumped when it clicked that this was your soulmate’s writing, these words a special glimpse in their mind as a child. 

hi!

today was very sunny. the weather was cool like spring. is it also spring for you? i guess you wouldn’t live that far away from me. i think it would be fun if you were from a place all the way across the world. maybe we could meet while traveling! or while doing something boring, like going to the store, haha. if we meet at the store, i should buy you something, right? i hope we like the same things. i’ll still buy you want you want, even if it’s gross.

anyways, i am writing this letter because my teacher said we had to practice our new vocabulary words with someone close to us. i used two already. here are the rest: bleak, chilly, windy, humid, falling leaves, summertime, spring day, downpour, foggy. our vocabulary unit was on the weather. i hope you had good weather today too, not weather that was bleak. 

love your soulmate, lee minho♡  

you were so incredibly heartwarmed that you didn’t know whether to smile or cry. when you saw the time, you realized there wasn’t room for either emotional activity. you floated on the street as you made your way to work, feeling invincible from the sweetness of your soulmate’s words. your soulmate, lee minho. 

nothing could ruin your good mood today. not spilling some coffee onto your hand, not misplacing your planner, not even the stranger bumping into you as you exited the elevator. today was perfect because you learned your soulmate’s name, which meant that you could probably figure out who they were. you also learned that, when they were a child, thay considered you as someone close, even though you had never met yet.

daydreams about what your soulmate would write to you in a letter today were interrupted by your phone going off. at first, you were relieved to see the message about your planner being found. your brow furrowed, however, when the message with the time and place to meet was followed up by a message declaring that you would meet your soulmate when you picked up your planner. 

wanting to avoid a potential scam or prank, you decided to ask a question that would confirm their identity. you almost forgot that you didn’t have to dig into the recesses of your memory for specific clues. thankfully, the childhood letter was fresh in your mind, so you asked a simple who are you?

anxiety was replaced by excitement when they replied i’m your soulmate, lee minho.

just like you had this morning, you checked the clock to see how much time you had until you needed to leave for your next destination. leaving early felt silly, but, seeing as your soulmate would be there and expecting you, you didn’t feel like waiting any longer. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

minho sat at a table outside the convenience store with a few beverage options in front of him. he wanted to offer you something when you arrived, so he picked the items he thought suited your taste, based on his instinct and clue investigations. a smile graced his lips when the reality of your nearing presence hit him. while he waited, minho wondered what clue you received that revealed his name. as far as he could tell, he wasn’t missing any identifiable documents. maybe a nametag or souvenir of his ended up in your hands, or maybe it was just a piece of paper with his name on it. regardless, minho wasn’t one to question fate’s methods if it meant that he’d finally meet his soulmate tonight.

minho had texted you a description of what he wore–black pants paired with a white button-down and a beret–but you knew who he was before you even registered his outfit. there was something about the feeling you got when you looked at the man sitting outside the convenience store, your favorite drinks neatly placed in front of him. before you could get too stunned by his beauty, his eyes met yours. he smiled and waved for you to join him. knees weak, you happily accepted the invitation.

“hi, y/n,” minho grinned, “i believe this belongs to you.”

you giggled at the way he smirked when he handed the planner over to you and blushed at the way he said your name. his confident and relaxed energy dissipated your nerves. as cliché as it sounded, being near minho made you feel at home.

“thank you, minho. i would be lost without this thing,” you sighed and placed it in your bag, “it’s also nice to meet you.” 

“likewise,” he gestured to the drinks between you two, “i wasn’t sure which one you’d like best, so i bought a few options. it felt rude to meet at a store and not buy you something.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, thinking back to the childhood letter making the same claim, and then grabbed one of the items, “this one is actually my favorite! how did you know?”

minho was clearly proud, and his eyes gleamed with playfulness, “i used my amazing detective work.”

you laughed, “ah, so i see the clues came in handy for my drink preferences.”

“mhm,” he nodded, “that and other things.”

you raised your eyebrows, “should i be scared of what you know?”

he shrugged, “probably.”

a hand went over your mouth as you laughed, nearly spitting out your drink. minho giggled, reaching into his bag while you regained your composure.

“i have this for you,” he slid a notebook across the table to you.

“for me?”

he nodded. you carefully picked it up, surprised by its weight. when you opened the notebook and saw that it was full of different items, you understood why it was heavier than it appeared. on the first page, you recognized the same childish handwriting from today’s clue. you smiled and looked up at minho.

“what’s in here?”

“every clue i’ve gotten about you.”

his tone was nonchalant, but you were so touched by the gesture you thought you could melt right then and there. he had kept every single clue and wrote entries for each one. now, he was giving that collection to you. you knew from that letter that he was sweet. this, however, was more sentimentality than you could have ever imagined.

“wow, minho, this is…” you held his gaze, so he knew your sincerity, “thank you. i love it.”

he smiled, turning his head to the side in shyness, which made the red tips of his ears apparent, “i’m happy you like it.”

you two smiled at each other for a moment, reveling in your shared space.

“ah! that reminds me. what was your clue today? mine obviously brought us together, but i can’t imagine i’d be the only one to have such a straightforward clue today. was it how you knew my name?”

you grinned at both his playful bragging and the thought of your clue, “it was a letter you wrote me when you were a kid. you told me some of your new vocabulary words about the weather. you also signed it with ‘love your soulmate, lee minho.’ your handwriting was adorable!”

if you thought his ears were red before, now there was no doubt in your mind that he was blushing. minho even stuttered a little out of shyness when he replied.

“i see…was the letter any good?”

“yes, i think you used your vocabulary words well,” you teased, “it was very sweet. i was surprised that you said i was someone close to you, though, given that you were so young and didn’t even know me. why did you choose to write it to me instead of someone like a parent or friend?”

minho hummed, genuinely thinking back to his childhood logic, “honestly? it was never a mystery to me whether i’d love you or not.”

now you were the one blushing, smiling, and struggling to find the right words. it didn’t help that minho looked downright smug at your reaction to his comment. clearly, you were in for quite the ride with your soulmate. you figured you needed to get used to your heart fluttering if you were going to spend the rest of your life with him.

minho sighed, standing up from his seat, “well, y/n, i unfortunately have to go. get home safely, and study well! we should make plans to meet again this week, if you’re free.”

“wait, i have to study before i see you again?” you tilted your head in confusion, causing a smile to grace minho’s face.

“yes, you need to study the book i gave you. there will be a pop quiz on the information next time we meet.”

you eyes darted to the notebook in your hand and then back to your ridiculous soulmate. the proud, mischievous look on his face convinced you that he wasn’t lying about the quiz. 

“what do i get if i ace it?”

“hmm,” minho tapped his finger on the side of his head, “my eternal love and affection.”

you smiled, quickly changing your expression to a playful one, “i thought i already had that? at least, that’s what your letter implies.”

minho chuckled, ears turning red again, “huh, i guess you’re right. i’ll buy you dinner then. but only if you ace it.”

you laughed at the seriousness in his voice, “it’s a date!” 

minho grinned, “it’s a date.” 

he paused to savor the way those words sounded, to relish in the moment of promising to see each other soon. yet again, you felt yourself blushing, flustered by the sweet intensity of his love.

“see you soon, and let me know when you’re home safe, my dear, y/n.”

minho cooed your name, and you giggled. he smiled that proud smile again, fondness reflecting in his eyes. you promised to text him the second you were home and asked that he did the same, so you knew when you could call him. after several more tries, you two finally said a goodbye that sounded a lot more like i can’t wait to see you again soon because i love you!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[winwintea]

wicked love

PAIRING ↬ non-idol!na jaemin x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ short lived-fluff, romance, TOXICITY, horror, thriller, supernatural, kinda unsettling, SOOO CREEPY, if bad why hot? au, oomfs pointed out this is kinda like wandavision and now i'm realizing it does so maybe wandavision au

WARNINGS ↬ horror, yandere!!! (read at your own risk!)

SUMMARY ↬ his love is perfect. but perfection comes with a price.

WORD COUNT ↬ 5.4k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ guys i think the voices are getting louder (ty to queens @yizhrt @peterm4rker @viasdreams and @polarisjisung for beta reading 🙏)

PLAYLIST ↬ rhinestone eyes - gorillaz; nightmares - the boyz; wicked love - yena; doll - gidle; the perfect girl - mareux

YOU NEEDED A FRESH START.

The train slows to a halt, the perfect little town laid out in front of your eyes. You step onto the platform, the scent of flowers filling the air. 

The town looks like a postcard-perfect town, almost like you’re staring at a travel brochure rather than the real thing. The cobblestone streets appear to be smoothed down over time. A few locals pass by, nodding at you with warm smiles. 

There’s something about this place. It feels timeless, almost, like it came straight out of your dreams. Maybe this will be home. Maybe it’s exactly the fresh start you need from your damaging past.

Your new apartment, right next to the main square, is perfect. Lace curtains sway gently in the breeze, creating a comfy atmosphere. You unpack your bags, starting to convince yourself this was the right move. A quieter life, far from the chaos you left behind.

The next morning, you walk into your new job at the café, a cute little shop with pastel walls and pastries that look too good to eat. Mrs. Kim, the owner, greets you with a smile that feels practiced but kind.

“Welcome, dear,” she says, her tone both warm and firm. “I can tell you’re nervous, but I have confidence you’ll fit in just fine. Everyone does.”

Encouraged by her kind words, you dive into the work, immersing yourself in the comforting rhythm of brewing coffee and arranging pastries. Simplicity is desperately needed.

Then the bell over the door chimes, and you glance up ready to greet your next customer. But what you see makes you freeze in place.

A man walks in with confidence, his dark eyes surveying the room before landing on you. His presence is drawing, his sharp cheekbones and warm smile seem to stand out in this quiet little town. For a moment, it feels like the entire café is holding its breath, waiting for him to order.

“Americano, please,” he says, his voice smooth but casual. His gaze doesn’t cease, even as you fumble slightly while writing his name on his drink. ‘Jaemin’. When you hand it to him, his fingers brush yours, sending an unexpected jolt through you.

“You’re new,” he states, not a question but an observation, his head tilted slightly as if he’s trying to read you.

You nod, flustered. “Just moved in yesterday.”

He continues to smile. “I’m happy to run into you then. Welcome.”

Instead of leaving, Jaemin takes a seat by the window, sipping his coffee while his attention drifts back and forth between you and the window. His gaze lingers just long enough to make your cheeks turn red. 

When your shift ends, you’re surprised to see him outside, leaning casually against the lamppost. The setting sun just adds to the beautiful sight right in front of you.

“I thought I’d walk you home,” his eyes steady, with some concern. “It’s getting late.”

The streets are quiet, and there doesn’t seem to be much danger present. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to decline. You nod, and he falls into step beside you.

As the two of you start to walk, he asks questions about you. How was your move, your life before this, what made you pick this town? He listens intently, hanging on to every word as though you’re the most fascinating person in the world. You tell him more than you planned to, and it isn’t until you see the intrigued look on his face that you realize how much you shared.

“What about you?” you ask, shifting the focus on him instead. “Have you been here long?”

“Long enough to know I was waiting for you.”

The line is so smooth it catches you off guard, and your face flushes as he laughs. His laugh is soft and such a pleasing sound that you realize you want to hear it again and again.

The next few weeks with Jaemin feel even more like a fairytale. He seems to appear everywhere. Waiting for you outside the café after your shifts, showing up with your favorite snacks and drinks, surprising you with gifts he claims “just made me think of you.”

One evening, he shows up at your door holding a bouquet of wildflowers. “I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to see you,” he says, handing them to you with a grin. “Thought you might need these.”

The flowers seem flawless and smell wonderful. You let him in your apartment, your heart fluttering at his thoughtfulness.

Over time, you notice how precise his attention is. He seems to know exactly what you need. When you mention being cold, he drapes his jacket over your shoulders without a word. When you casually mention a book you’ve been wanting to read ever since you saw it in the library, it shows up on your doorstep the next day with a small note attached to it.

One evening, he takes you to a small park outside of town. A picnic is already waiting. Jaemin is sitting there on a blanket waiting for you to arrive.

“How did you pull this off?” you ask, laughing as you sit down. “It’s like you read my mind.” Just a few days ago, you read a chapter in your book in which the two main characters had also gone on a similar date.

Jaemin grins as he pours you a glass of sparkling cider. “I just know you. That’s what love is, isn’t it? Knowing someone better than they know themselves.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, though you force a smile. You’re not sure why they unsettle you. It’s sweet, isn’t it? That he knows you so well?

As you sit together, Jaemin leans back on his elbows, watching you. “You’re perfect,” he says quietly. “I’ve never met anyone like you. It’s like... you’re exactly what I’ve been waiting for.”

The intensity of his gaze makes you look away, your cheeks heating. But something in his tone feels too polished, almost like he’s practiced it. You brush it off, telling yourself you’re overthinking.

It’s when you go out in town together that you start to notice how people act around him.

At the bakery, Mrs. Kim’s hands tremble as she rings up his order. Her smile is forced, and she avoids looking him in the eye.

After you leave, you curiously ask Jaemin about that interaction, “Was that... normal? She seemed kind of scared of you.”

Jaemin shrugs, brushing it off. “She’s just shy. Some people are like that.”

You’re not convinced, Mrs. Kim never seemed shy when the two of you worked together. But his casual tone makes it hard to push, so you let it slide for now.

—

Later, at the market, a man accidentally bumps into Jaemin, knocking over a fruit display. The man’s face seems to pale as he stammers out apologies, frantically trying to fix the mess. Jaemin couldn’t control the scowl that emerged on his face, as the man scurried away.

You lean toward Jaemin, whispering, “It was just an accident. You don’t need to glare at him like that.”

Jaemin turns to you, smiling again. “I wasn’t glaring,” he says calmly. “People here are just... respectful. They know better than to be careless.”

The edge in his voice makes your stomach twist, but you’re unsure how to respond.

—

That evening, when he takes you back to your apartment, you decide to bring it up again. “Jaemin, do you notice how nervous people are around you? It’s like they’re scared of you or something.” 

Jaemin pauses, and for a split second, you swear that his image cracked before snapping back into place. “It’s not fear,” he says, his tone even. “It’s respect. People here understand boundaries. They treat each other the right way. Don’t you feel it? Safer, calmer, happier?”

His eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, you feel like he’s waiting for you to agree. You nod slowly, though a part of you doesn’t want to. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just... different from what I’m used to.”

Jaemin steps closer, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s why you belong here,” he says, his voice low and soothing. “Somewhere where no one will ever hurt you again.”

The way he says it makes your breath hitch. They’re comforting, but there’s a weight to his words that leaves you uneasy.

—

Later that night, lying in bed, you replay the day’s events in your head—Mrs. Kim’s trembling hands, the man at the market, and the way Jaemin’s smiles sometimes feel too sharp, too practiced, too unsettling. You try to tell yourself it’s nothing, that you’re just adjusting to this new place, this new life, and a new relationship. But deep down, you can’t shake the uneasy feeling you have. Something about Jaemin and this town feels off. The cracks are starting to form.

It’s the little things at first.

The mirror above your dresser shatters without warning while you’re brushing your hair, splintering your reflection. You freeze, staring at your fragmented reflection. It almost looks like your face is splintering apart. You reach out, your hand hovering just inches from the broken surface. 

The door suddenly swings open, and Jaemin who was staying the night appears, his expression calm. “What happened?” He reaches out to stop your fingers from touching the broken glass.

“I don’t know.” you stammer. “It just… cracked. I didn’t even touch it” You shook your head, trying to process what you just saw. 

He steps forward, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder as he examines the mirror. “It’s probably old. I’ll get you a new one. Don’t worry about it.” But something about his tone that makes you feel like he’s brushing it off on purpose. 

Later, you catch him staring at the shattered mirror, his reflection fragmented into dozens of pieces.

—

The next time you’re at Jaemin’s house while walking through the hallway, you notice the wallpaper seemingly peeling at the edges. Stepping closer seems to reveal a dark surface beneath. Your fingers trace along the seam absentmindedly, curiosity getting the best of you. When you gently tug the loose edge, a chunk tears free, exposing the wood underneath. It was blackened and warped, as though it’s been rotting for years.

You stare at it, suddenly feeling sick to your stomach. How could a house so immaculate have something like this hidden beneath its surface?

“What are you doing?”

You whirl around, the scrap of wallpaper still in your hand as you turn to face Jaemin in the hallway. He’s standing behind you, quiet and still. “It was already peeling,” you say quickly. “I just wanted to see what was underneath.”

His eyes flicker to the exposed wood, then back to you. For a split second, his face seems to literally crack almost like his face was supposedly ceramic, before mending itself together. “I’ll fix it. You don’t need to worry about things like this.”

He steps closer, gently taking the torn wallpaper from your hands. His touch is light and tender, but the air feels different now.

“You shouldn’t bother with things that aren’t important,” Jaemin says softly, his tone almost pleading. “Just focus on us. That’s what matters, isn’t it?”

You nod, but as he turns away, you notice his grip on the torn wallpaper tighten, his knuckles whitening as he walks down the hall.

—

The cracks aren’t just in the walls or the mirrors. They’re in him, too, and maybe you weren’t hallucinating when you saw his skin actually crack.

One night, you’re sitting together in his living room, the fireplace filling the room with warmth. Jaemin’s hand is wrapped around yours, his thumb tracing slow, steady circles against your skin.

“Sometimes I think I don’t deserve this. You. You’re too perfect for someone like me.”

You laugh softly, brushing off his words. “You’re being dramatic again.”

He looks at you then, his gaze locking onto yours, and for a moment, it feels like the world spins. His eyes are dark, almost bottomless, and there’s something lurking there—something raw and desperate, as though he’s holding on to you with every ounce of his being. Jaemin’s voice trembles slightly. “I mean it. You don’t understand how much you matter to me. I can’t lose you.”

There’s an intensity in his words that makes your heart race, but not in the way it usually does. You try to look away, but his grip on your hand tightens, not painfully, but enough to make you pause.

Then his expression changes. His smile fades, and his face hardens. The cracks start to appear again, this time more obvious than before.

You pull your hand away slightly. “I’m not going anywhere, Jaemin. You don’t have to worry about that.”

His smile returns instantly, the cracks once again vanishing as though they had never been there. “I know. I just get... carried away sometimes.”

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, but even as his lips brush your skin, the unease still lingers.

—

It gets worse after that. The cracks spread everywhere. Not just to the mirrors and walls, but to everything in the town. One night, the streetlight outside your building starts flickering which casts shadows across the pavement. The ground seems to ripple as if the cobblestones were water rather than stone. 

When you tell Jaemin about it, he dismisses it with that too-smooth tone you’ve come to dread.

“You’ve been working too much. You need to rest. You’re probably just really tired.”

But you know what you saw.

—

The tipping point comes when you’re alone at his house again. You’re standing in front of the mirror in his bedroom, the edges of the glass framed by intricate gold. As you stare at your reflection, the surface begins to distort. Slowly, your features start stretching unnaturally, twisting your perception. You blink, and the image snaps back to normal.

But when you look closer, you realize your reflection isn’t blinking anymore. It’s staring at you, unblinking and unmoving, a faint smile curling at the corners of its lips.

“Stop looking so hard.”

You spin around to find Jaemin standing in the doorway, his eyes darker than usual.

He smiles at you faintly, “Some things aren’t meant to be questioned.”

His words echo in your mind long after he leaves the room. You stare at the mirror again, but this time, you don’t dare move closer.

The first argument starts late at night, the room dimly lit, with untouched plates of food between the two of you. Your frustration finally boils over after weeks of feeling watched, cornered, and controlled.

You stand up suddenly. “I need space, Jaemin. I can’t keep doing this.”

His smile vanishes, replaced by something unreadable. He leans back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest, his gaze pierces through you. “Space? From me?”

You nod, your voice shaking. “Yes. From you, from... this. I feel like I can’t breathe anymore. Everything’s too... perfect. It doesn’t feel real.”

For a moment, Jaemin says nothing. His jaw tightens, and his fingers drum against the table. When he finally speaks, his tone is calm, but there’s an edge to it that sends a chill through you. “After everything I’ve done for you, you want to leave?”

“I’m not saying I’m leaving,” you start, trying to explain, “I’m just saying I need–”

He stands abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. His voice rises, cutting you off. “You don’t need anything! I’ve given you everything! This town, this life, me... Isn’t that enough for you?”

You take a step back, started by his outburst. You can literally hear your heart pounding now. His sudden anger feels like a slap in the face, shattering the careful illusion of calm he’s always maintained. “You’re not listening to me, Jaemin. I never asked for this perfect little world you’ve created. I just wanted you.”

That seems to break something in him. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You need this. You need me. Without me, you’d be miserable. Lost.” He moves closer, his face contorting with a mixture of frustration and desperation.

You shake your head, tears blurring your vision. “No, Jaemin. That’s what you want me to believe.”

His expression darkens further, and for the first time, you see the cracks in his carefully constructed mask—the raw emotion, the fury barely contained beneath his flawless exterior. “Don’t do this. Don’t ruin everything. This is our paradise. Our dream.” His words come out frantic as if he’s trying to convince both you and himself.

“Paradise?” You step further back, your voice still firm. “This isn’t paradise, Jaemin. This is a prison.”

And that’s when Jaemin snaps.

“You don’t get it!” His voice is sharp as it rings through the house. “Paradise is only perfect if you don’t leave!”

The words crash over you, the weight of their meaning sinking into your chest. His voice echoes in your mind, melodic and haunting, like a line from a song you can’t escape.

“I am your paradise. Your dream. Everything you’ve ever wanted. Why can’t you just see that? Why can’t you just stay?” His voice breaks on the last word, and for a moment, you see something raw and vulnerable in his eyes. 

But then his expression hardens again, the desperation twisting into something darker and terrifying.

“I won’t let you ruin this,” he growls, his fists clenched at his sides. “If you won’t stay willingly, I’ll make sure you don’t leave. You’re mine, and nothing will ever change that.”

Your breath catches in your throat. The room feels smaller, the walls closing in. “Jaemin... this isn’t love.”

The words seem to shatter him. His face contorts with rage, his hands slowly balling into fists at his sides. “Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you dare.”

You take another step back, your eyes darting toward the door, your instincts screaming at you to run. You’ve never felt this kind of fear before.

“You don’t understand. I am love. Everything else is broken, but I’m perfect. For you. For us.” The air between you is heavy, suffocating. Jaemin’s breathing is ragged, his eyes wild.

The words hang in the air, a chilling reminder that the man you thought you knew isn’t the man standing in front of you anymore. 

—

The morning after your argument, you decide to leave. You don’t even know where you’ll go—just that you need to get out of this suffocating place, away from Jaemin and his unnerving obsession.

You pack a small bag with trembling hands, glancing nervously out the window. The streets outside are eerily quiet, the friendliness of the town somehow feels more oppressive than ever.

As you step out of your apartment, your heart sinks. Jaemin is leaning casually against the streetlamp in front of your building, his hands in his pockets and his ever-perfect smile in place.

“Going somewhere, love?”

Your heart pounds in your chest. You force yourself to stay calm, clutching the strap of your bag tighter. “I need some time to myself.”

He tilts his head, studying you intently. “Time to yourself? That doesn’t sound like you. Where would you even go?”

The question catches you off guard. He’s right… you’ve never seen anything beyond this town. …Have you? You don’t even know if there is anything beyond this town. You’ve never ventured out of this town. You’ve lived here all your life. With Jaemin. Just Jaemin.

The thought sends a jolt through you. What is happening?

You shake it off, your voice firmer now. “Anywhere but here, Jaemin. I need to think.”

For a moment, his smile falters. But then it’s back, brighter than ever and more unsettling. “You don’t need to leave to think. Stay here. Let me help you.”

You shake your head, stepping past him, but his hand shoots out, gently grabbing your wrist–not harshly, but enough to stop you in place.

“Don’t do this, Y/N. You’ll regret it.”

You wrench your arm free and start walking, as your heart continues to pound in your chest. His voice follows you, soft and calm yet terrifyingly firm.

“You’ll be back. You always come back. You can never escape.”

—

The next few days are a nightmare. No matter where you go, Jaemin is there. You spot him in the café, sitting in the same seat he first approached you in, watching you with that same perfect smile. He’s waiting outside your apartment when you get home from work, leaning against the doorframe like he belongs there.

You even see him in places he shouldn’t be—on the other side of the street when you’re at the grocery store, standing in the shadows of an alley when you’re walking to clear your mind.

You confront him once, your patience snaps. “Are you following me? What the hell, Jaemin?”

He just smiles, tilting his head like you’ve said something funny. “I’m just making sure you’re safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, you know. To keep you safe.”

It’s infuriating, how calm he is, how he manages to twist every accusation into a declaration of his “love.”

It’s not just Jaemin. The entire town seems to conspire against you. The people smile too widely, their eyes never quite meeting yours. Conversations feel hollow like they’re reciting lines from a script rather than speaking from the heart.

At the market, the woman at the counter refuses to sell you a bus ticket.

“What do you mean, there’s no way out?”

“There’s nowhere to go, sweetheart,” she says, her tone unnervingly kind. “Everything you need is here.”

Her words echo Jaemin’s, and a sickening realization begins to settle in. You leave the market, your chest tight with frustration and fear.

Even your apartment feels wrong. The walls seem to close in on you, the air growing heavier. You swear you hear whispers late at night, but when you check, no one is there.

—

The final straw comes one night when you confront Jaemin in his house. You storm into his pristine living room, the air thick with tension.

“What is going on, Jaemin? Why is everyone acting like this? Why can’t I leave this town?”

He’s seated calmly on the couch, his hands resting on his knees. When he looks up, his perfect smile is in place, but this time, it carries an edge of something darker. “Why would you want to leave? Everything here is perfect. You’re perfect. We’re perfect.”

“Stop saying that!” you shout, your voice trembling. “Nothing about this is perfect. It’s all fake!”

His expression hardens slightly, though the smile remains. “Fake? Is that what you think? You think the life I built for us is fake?”

You freeze, the weight of his words sinking in. “What do you mean... ‘built’?”

He stands slowly, his movements deliberate, as if he’s giving you time to process. “This town, the people, everything you see—it’s all for you. For us. I created it because I knew you needed something better. Something perfect.”

Your stomach drops, your legs threatening to give out beneath you. “No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “That’s... that’s not possible.” 

He steps closer, his gaze locking onto yours. “I’ve given you everything, Y/N. A world where you don’t have to worry, where nothing can hurt you. I’ve even given you pieces of myself—my love, my time, my devotion. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy.”

Your voice shakes as you respond. “This isn’t happiness, Jaemin. This is control.”

His jaw tightens, the cracks in his composure finally showing. “No. No, you’re wrong. This is love. I’ve made it perfect for you. Don’t you see? You don’t have to fight anymore. Just... let go.”

You back away, your mind racing. Everything starts to make sense now—the way people seem hollow, the strange cracks in the world, the way Jaemin always seems to know your every thought.

The truth suddenly dawns on you. “Even me... You’ve been controlling me, haven’t you?”

He hesitates. The silence stretches for a moment too long before he replies, his voice softer, almost pleading. “I didn’t want to control you. I just wanted to protect you. To keep you here, where it’s safe. You’re... you’re slipping away from me, Y/N. And if you go, this world will crumble. I can’t let that happen.”

His words are a plea and a threat all at once, and for the first time, you see him for what he truly is: not just a possessive lover, but the creator of this fragile, crumbling reality.

You spend the next few days searching for an escape, though you’re not entirely sure what “escape” even means in this twisted, fabricated reality. The cracks in the world are growing more pronounced—literal fissures splitting the pavement, flickers of darkness creeping at the edges of your vision, and moments where the townspeople freeze mid-motion, like broken puppets.

And Jaemin? He’s watching you closer than ever, though he never confronts you outright. You can feel his eyes on you wherever you go, a shadow that clings to your every step.

One night, while Jaemin is out, you find it—a journal hidden beneath a loose floorboard in your apartment. The pages are filled with strange symbols, diagrams, and what looks like fragmented memories of Jaemin’s thoughts.

One entry catches your eye:

"The anchor must never break. She is the key to keeping the world whole. Without her, there’s nothing."

Your heart races as you piece it together. You’re not just a prisoner in Jaemin’s world—you’re the foundation of it. If you can sever your connection to this place, the entire illusion might collapse. But how?

—

You decide you have to confront him. But not to beg or plead for your freedom—that won’t work. Jaemin is too possessive, too desperate to let you go willingly. No, you’ll have to trick him into believing that you’ve finally given in.

The next evening, you find him at his house. He’s in the living room, staring into the flickering flames of the fireplace. His expression is distant, almost melancholic.

“Jaemin?”

He turns, and his face lights up when he sees you, the sadness replaced by his usual serene smile. “Y/N. I was wondering when you’d come back to me.”

You force yourself to smile, stepping closer. “You were right. About everything. I’ve been fighting against you, against this... and I don’t know why. It’s perfect here. You’re perfect.”

His eyes widen slightly, a flicker of hope sparking in them. “You mean that?”

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’ve been scared. But I see it now—you love me more than anyone ever could. You’ve built this world for me, and I want to stay.” You reach out to his hand.

His grip tightens on your hand, his smile growing as he pulls you into his arms. “I knew you’d understand. I knew you’d see how much I love you.”

You let him hold you, burying your face against his chest to hide the fear and repulsion you know must be showing on your face.

—

Over the next few days, you pretend to settle into the life Jaemin has crafted for you. You let him dote on you, let the townspeople’s eerie smiles wash over you without flinching. All the while, you gather the pieces you need.

You find an old map in the library, one that shows a strange, unfinished road on the outskirts of town. You overhear snippets of conversation from the townspeople—hushed whispers about “the edge” and “the boundary.”

And then, one night, you’re ready.

You and Jaemin are sitting together in his living room, the fire casting warm light across the walls. You rest your head on his shoulder, your voice is soft and trembling. “There’s just one thing I need to feel... whole.”

“Anything, my love. Just tell me.” He looks down at you, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Take me to the edge of the town. I want to see where it all ends. I want to understand this world you’ve made for me.”

His expression falters. “The edge isn’t important. Everything you need is right here.”

You sit up, cupping his face in your hands, your eyes pleading. “Please, Jaemin. I want to see it with you. I want to understand your love fully. Don’t you want me to?”

He hesitates, his gaze searching yours. Finally, he nods reluctantly. “If that’s what you want.”

—

He drives you to the edge of town in silence, his grip on the steering wheel tight. The road grows darker the further you go, the world outside the car fading into an inky void.

When he stops, the road ahead simply... ends. Beyond it is nothingness, a swirling expanse of black that seems to pulse and writhe.

“This is as far as it goes. There’s nothing out there. Nothing but chaos.”

You step out of the car, your heart racing. “It’s beautiful.”

Jaemin watches you carefully as you approach the edge.

You turn back to him. “Thank you for showing me this. I... I trust you.”

For a moment, his face softens, and you see his vulnerability once again beneath the perfection. “You mean everything to me. You always have.”

As his attention wavers, you make your move. You sprint toward the edge, your bag clutched tightly in your hands.

Jaemin notices and panics. “Y/N! Stop!”

He now stands in front of you, his usually perfect expression unhinged, desperation seeping through every word. “You can’t leave. You don’t understand what’s out there. It’s chaos. Pain. No one will love you like I do. No one will protect you like I have.”

“This isn’t love, Jaemin. This is a prison. You don’t love me—you love the idea of me, the version you can control. But I’m not yours to keep.”

He steps closer, his once-gentle eyes are now sharp, glinting with anger and fear. “If you leave, you’ll regret it. Out there, you’ll be nothing. A speck. Here, you’re everything. My everything.”

You swallow hard, your chest tightening as the house begins to shudder. The cracks spread faster now, the walls peeling to reveal nothingness beyond. This world is breaking apart, and so is he. “I’d rather be nothing than lose myself to you.”

Jaemin’s expression softens for a brief moment—hurt flashing across his face. He reaches for you, his hand trembling as if he’s trying to hold on to what’s slipping away.

“Please… don’t go. You’ll die out there. This place… it’s all I have.”

But you’ve already made your choice. You step back, closer to the edge of the crumbling reality. The air feels thin, the edges of the world curling in on themselves like burning paper. Behind Jaemin, you see the town collapsing—the people disintegrating into ash, their empty smiles vanishing with them.

With one last look at him, you whisper, “Goodbye, Jaemin.”

And then you leap into the void.

Life had been okay after you escaped. Moving again would’ve been the best option in this case. 

The train slows to a halt, the perfect little town laid out in front of your eyes.

You step onto the platform, the scent of flowers filling the air. The town looks clean, almost like it was plucked straight from a storybook or a carefully curated dream. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, reassuring yourself that this was exactly what you wanted. A fresh start. A clean break from everything you left behind.

You set your bag down and begin unpacking, each item you pull out grounding you a little more in this place. A simpler life. A quieter life. That’s what you need, far from the chaos of before.

The next morning, you step into your new job at the café. It’s a quaint little shop with pastel walls and rows of pastries so perfect they could be in a magazine. The scent of coffee and freshly baked bread wraps around you like a warm hug.

The owner greets you with a wide smile. Her eyes crinkle at the corners, and her voice is both kind and commanding. “Welcome, dear,” she says. “I can tell you’re nervous, but you’ll fit in just fine. Everyone does.”

As you settle into the rhythm of the café, you notice how everything is perfectly simple. You glance out the window, and for a split second, you think you see a figure standing at the edge of the square.

Your breath catches, but when you blink, the figure is gone. You shake your head and return to wiping down the counter.

It’s nothing, you tell yourself. Just nerves. After all, this is the fresh start you wanted.

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania @spacejip

apologies for the trauma. you are all entitled to no financial compensation. hope you enjoyed your stay!

[sashayed]

I haven't said as much about electoral politics this year as I have in previous cycles, because I am exhausted like everyone else and have nothing new or helpful to add. That is still true, so caveat lector I guess lmao!!! Happy American Election Day Fellow Sufferers!!

I have been experiencing an internal backlash the last few years to my extremely Sorkinpilled D.C. private school upbringing -- my childhood spent as a kind of convent schoolgirl in the faith of The System Is Good If We All Participate, which of course has a uhhh let's say generously a minimal engagement with the ways in which many of us are by design shut out of participating. I don't think idealism is necessarily childish, but I think MY idealism certainly has childish qualities, an undergirding of 90s feel-goodism, of civic participation as a subtle ego stroke and of voting -- although I would never have consciously put it this way -- as a way to feel superior to people who don't vote.

Lately there has bubbled up in me a sludgy, adolescent fury at this whole stupid country that has made it very very hard to feel like I should do even the bare minimum. For these people? AMERICANS? The ones that not only want Donald Trump to be president but saw what happened the first time and were like, We love this, do it again but worse? Whatever, fuckos. "I hope you people get your dearest wish and it chews you to death slowly," I may have thought.

I have also thought: why is it so controversial to ask elected officials to stop funding a genocide? Why are we treating people who make that ask, who are watching the current administration directly fund death on a mass scale and objecting to that choice, as if they are being babies and just need to get over it? How are they supposed to get over it? Why is anybody over it?

Anyway all this means that I, a known chipper door-knocker and caller of congresspeople, have been pretty low-key this current cycle. I think that is OK. I don't want to make this a big dramatic confessional about how I didn't write enough postcards or whatever. We all get exhausted and this was my turn.

But it has also been an illuminating cycle in that it's made it clear to me how much at my big age I still want politics to make me feel good, and when they don't, I still have the urge to throw a lil tantrum about it! I can get very superior and intellectual about how right-wing operatives manipulate their voters emotionally WITHOUT EVEN NOTICING that I too have been manipulated, in my case into the feeling that nonparticipation is a kind of revolutionary act.* Just absolute "I threw it on the GROUND" logic happening inside my head. "Maybe if I don't vote I will be doing Quiet Quitting, which is uhhhhh anticapitalist." I'm not a part of your system!!!

Anyway, I am trying to have self-compassion about it, and one way for me to do that is to project my internal experience onto a theoretical reader. That would be you, my imaginary friend who clicked on this post for some reason even though you have already decided not to vote! I just want to tell you that I am more sympathetic to your point of view than I have ever been in my whole life, and I'm sorry I have historically been a glib, holier-than-thou asshole about it in ways that may actually have made you MORE resistant to civic participation.

And you're right: it doesn't make that big a difference whether I personally vote or not, or whether you do. But if there are hundreds of us, and I think there are, then each of those people individually do starts to matter.

I guess I would humbly request that you and I both pay attention to what people who need help are actually asking for. I would ask that we both notice who wins when we abdicate this single responsibility. I would remind us both that participating in the electoral process is not some kind of weird either-or with participating in decentralized community building and mutual aid, and the best people we know do both. Isn't it interesting that somehow, insidiously, without even consciously becoming aware of this belief, we have started to think that you can only do one or the other? Who is telling us that story? Who does it serve?

Anyway. I took the stupid 90 minute round trip to my polling place which was VERY hot for some reason and I stood in the stupid line and some babies waved at me and I cast my vote for Kamala Harris and I'm glad I did it in the same way I'm glad after I do the dishes or take a stupid shower. Doing work doesn't always feel like anything. I also saw a really wonderful small black and white dog that I thought was a cat on a leash. I would not have seen that dog if I hadn't gone to vote. So politics can still make you feel good!!!

*I mean all this analysis is cute and everything BUT ALSO i did switch antidepressants twice in the last year, an astonishingly grueling process that almost made me [affect the trout population]. Could these things be related? hmmmmmmm, don't understand the question, won't respond to it.

[jorblesandco]

Bunny commentary

Bunny only became a full-on asshole after he was excluded and figured out they killed a guy - obvious

Bunny and Henry matching glasses,,,,, besties

TSH is written after Bunny's murder and richard's characterization of him is most likely an attempt at justification

of the greek class, the only one outsiders seem to like Is bunny (and richard but he was an outsider first so he doesn't count as much)

the dog (the greyhound charles rescued) liked Bunny and went on his sunday hikes with him and richard,

he is extremely fond of henry and it shows when he talks about him - perhaps henry is his only real friend in the greek class, the others tolerated for the benefit of henry, and their friendship seems to be that of familiar bickering but obviously takes a turn after bunny is excluded and finds out he(and co) murdered a guy in the woods

one thing i am desperate to know is whether it was henry or bunny who laughed at the end of chapter two . it could be either because it haunts him . but also it could be henry because richard (and francis, for that matter) are both at one point haunted by henry after his death . and bunny was the only person who could make henry laugh . which one of them laughed . maybe both? why does it haunt richard .

bunny writing richard an awkward apology and wrapping it around a paperback of poems and a box of junior mints,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, :(

Bunny woke everybody in the country house up at like 5 in the morning the first time it snowed by running around and jumping on their beds screaming "first snow! first snow!"

he is a good artist . mentioned that he drew himself and henry as little cartoons in roman togas with their matching eyeglasses on a postcard he sent to richard

look . i am just saying that if i found out my friends murdered somebody and they didnt even bother to tell me i probably wouldve blackmailed them too . not bunny's fault they all went along with it . of course i have a better personality than bunny but that is neither here nor there

finding quite a bit of evidence that bunny's parents were neglectful while still keeping up their rich happy family persona . bunny not reading until he was 10 is one of them, but that could also be the dyslexia, but also if his parents put in any effort apart from sending him off to learning disability schools i am fairly certain bunny would've been reading sooner . this is because i did not have a proper reading level until i was about 7/8 maybe even 9 either and it was largely because my parents weren't reading with me . that age is when i switched schools and they started teaching me phonics

he was wearing hand me down almost threadbare too short tweed most of the time . "…the shapeless, tweedy rags he generally wore…"

bunny only knows one card game (go fish)

bunnys reaction to finding out his best friend 1.) called him an annoying rabbit in his diary and 2.) murdered a man was mostly reasonable . he was angry at being excluded , angry that henry, his Best Friend, didn't tell him about it . really i think if henry had just told bunny about it this might have been avoided . all he wanted was to be included . i mean they were Best Friends . henry makes a point of saying "i know him better than you" to richard when relating what went down in italy . francis says he's known about this since november but that's not true because he didn't think they had actually murdered a guy until late in the italy trip, probably sometime in late january or february, whenever it is that henry came home early .

incredibly funny to me that he ry and bunny, best friends, are the ones who die . they are the ones who consistently haunt Richard's narrative . richard says he doesnt think about bunny that much but then why did you write a 600 page memoir about him and the aftereffects of his death then huh????? henry and bunny wear matching glasses in the underworld .

he was possibly in love with henry (and obviously hated the fact as he was extremely homophobic) because how else would you explain your best friend blowing up at you throwing chairs etc and then climbing into Your bed and crying himself to sleep

he treated henry (outside of the outbursts) "with deference" aka polite submission according to our notably unobservant narrator richard . very interesting . but i guess imagine you find out your best friend in the world murdered a guy and then didn't even tell you about it . i suppose that warrants deference of a sort . but he was horrible on a daily basis to the rest of them

btw how much of Bunny's behavior was over-exaggerated??? this is written After the murder, how much is Richard exaggerating in order to justify to himself the murder of his friend. richard says "even today i cannot muster anything resembling anger for bunny". richard narrowing in on and exaggerating Bunny's jerkishness and bigotry to the point that the behavior was in and of itself unforgivable in order to justify Bunny's murder to himself is such a Richard move. unreliable narrator at his finest

"how quickly he fell; how soon it was over" . he didn't deserve that . he didn't deserve for it to be henry, his best friend, to ultimately push him over the edge and watch as he fell

bunny is objectively a not great person but . again Richards unreliable narration makes me question How bad especially bc they all genuinely cared for and mostly liked bunny. none of them are Good really. but richard "if theres one thing im good at its lying" papen is telling us bunny sucks . also judy thinks bunny is hilarious. hates henry though. i trust her judgement more than the greek class

bunny sees little trinkets around says is anybody gonna take that doesn't wait for an answer and swipes it for himself . "these he hid around his room in jumbled little nests" as he should tbh

bunny was their tie to reality i think . he made that comment about "common crackers more like" when julian was talking about tribute . he didn't take the bacchanal too seriously . everything he did connected them to the reality of it .

[rustbeltjessie]

I haven’t made a pinned post in a while, but since it’s my birthday month and I’m struggling right now, I figured it’s a good time to make one.

First, let me introduce myself. I’m Jessie Lynn McMains, aka Rust Belt Jessie. I’m a writer (poetry and prose), artist, zine-maker, spoken word performer, occasional musician, small press publisher, and general jack of several creative trades. I’m queer—bi/mspec and nonbinary (I use they/them, she/her, and he/him pronouns). I’m disabled and neurodivergent, and the parent of two kiddos. Politically? Well, I consider myself an anarchist at heart, but I still vote in every election. I think everyone should be able to have enough food, and a safe place to live, and yeah, even a few ‘unnecessary,’ fun things, just by virtue of being alive. As for the rest of my beliefs, you can probably garner a general idea if you peruse my blog even a little.

Now, onto the nitty-gritty. We had about ten days between when our last month’s food money ran out and when this month’s came in. It has been refilled as of today, so I don’t have to worry about that for the moment, but because of that gap, I had to spend money I’d set aside for other stuff on food. I paid our rent and energy bill for the month, but I’m a couple months overdue on our Internet bill, and I don’t want to risk that getting shut off. And then, well, it’s December. I’m trying to buy my kids some Christmas presents, and it’s not just my birthday month—my youngest kiddo’s birthday is four days before Christmas. Because of all this, I’m also way behind on writing stuff. I owe my zine subscribers a new issue (I didn’t send anything at all in November), and I’m trying to finish up some pieces to record for my new spoken word EP, but I’ve had to focus on day job and side-hustle stuff that’s more immediately lucrative, so I haven’t been able to dedicate much time to finishing these projects.

If you’d like to throw some $$ my way so I can get some gifts for my kiddos, keep my Internet on, get back to my writing, and maybe have a less-stressful birthday month than I did last year, I have V*nmo (JessieLynnMcMains) and P*yp*l (coeur.de.fantome [at] gmail[dot]com).

But hey, hey, I’m not just asking for something for nothing! I have a lot of stuff available on Ko-fi (rustbeltjessie), including print books and zines, ebooks and zines, and pins, and you can also hire me as an editor or commission a custom mini-collage. And almost everything is sliding scale/pay-what-you-can, some with a minimum price, others starting at $0.

And that zine subscription? It’s still not too late to get in on it, even though the year is almost over. If you sign up now, you’ll receive all previous issues, along with this month’s when it’s finished, and the final two will be mailed out in January.

Or perhaps you’d like to buy or commission something I don’t officially have for sale. Maybe you’d like to buy one of my existing pieces of art? Or commission a custom pin, designed by me, based on the band/film/fandom/whatever of your choice? Or commission a custom postcard poem/art piece, on the subject of your choice? Or have me write you a custom mini-zine, on the subject of your choice? I can do all those things! DM me, and we’ll work something out!

Oh, and I mentioned above that I was working on a new spoken word EP? Go check out my full-length spoken word album, Self-Portrait With Ghosts and Trains, which was released by Hello America Stereo Cassette in July 2021. You can find it at helloamerica.bandcamp.com. (I do get royalties from that release periodically, but it’s not as immediate as if you purchase something directly from me.)

All that said, I know times are tough for most people right now, so please don’t feel obligated to purchase anything or otherwise send money my way. And, as always, even just a few dollars helps, as does reblogging/boosting this post. 🖤

[katz-chow]

100 letters just for me...

synopsis: distance makes the heart ache and yet, it still grows fonder. gets extremely harder when you're forced back a few decades and are forced to wait for the mail to come every morning. aka: what their letters are like.

a/n: there's certain homecoming aspects within it, just keep thinking about that lately with the US' descion to deploy soldiers to the Middle East, thank god there's only soldiers and not seamen or corpsmen just yet... i am getting worried though for my sake and my friends.

i also am very happy with my headcanons for their handwritings and how serious they are with these love letters too. i feel like i really did capture them.

john price & his darling spouse his letters are short, usually a page; sometimes there's a back too. he really hates writing to you because somehow, he just can't tell you all the things he wants to, his hand just won't let him write it. gosh, his vows weren't even written out, just bullet points on a note card and him just rambling on. the paper always smells like cigar smoke and he somehow stains it with coffee by accident or spills water on it. you also think he uses his work memo pad to write these letters to you; the pages are yellow, thinned, and fuzzy at the edges

johnny "soap" mactavish & his bonnie...and fiance to be? he always has his journal with him, so i think he straight up just writes in it with doodles, pressed flowers, and stickers that he finds in his stuff. loves when you put cute little stickers on your return letters and he feels bad when he doesn't have any on yours. he found these smileys at a gas station, and although it's not as cute as your cute animal ones, it really brightens up the bleak pages. he tears the page out slowly, sometimes a word gets torn off by accident. he folds the page up and puts it in the envelope along with some trinkets, like more pressed flowers or a paperclip heart or maybe even a postcard.

simon "ghost" riley & his lovie baby keeps his letters short and vague. it's really just a sign of life for your sake of mind. he's never been good with the sappy, romantic stuff. he writes early in the morning after him and price goes over the agenda for the day. he tries really hard to keep the paper pristine and hardly crumbled to make sure it looks good for you. he smears the pen ink sometimes. he'll write about the adventures that he's getting into, but he mainly focuses on his friends messing around while also mentioning about the terrorists he's killed that week.

kyle "gaz" garrick & the chase for his lovebug my headcanon for kyle is that he loves bugs, especially beetles. it started when he was a kid and his dad told him that bugs are just tiny little souls and that humans have the capacity to be kind. so he loves bugs, especially his lovebug. he also loves stickers and know you love them too. it's a good change of the neutral color scheme of his environment, so he always keeps stickers on hand whenever he's deployed. i think he writes before he goes to bed because then he can fall asleep thinking about you

phllip graves & his cowpoke phillip graves has a ranch somewhere, probably in texas. he has farmhands that help around the ranch, mostly gives you easy work like feeding and cooking while he takes the more tedious jobs like cleaning and maintenance around the land. he sits down and writes his letter whenever he feels a surge of feelings missing you. mostly it's in the evening but sometimes he writes them late at night. also the type of guy to surprise you, but within reason. doesn't want to overwhelm you, so he'll come home a few days before when he said he was gonna- things like that

[runchiarun]

Sims 4 Gravity Falls AU Based on this timeline *Some events and dates are moved in this AU*

Might be forgetting some details here and there but generally: 1950 - Stan and Ford are born

1962 (12) - Fiddleford moves to New Jersey and lives with his aunt and uncle

1962 - 1967 (12 - 17) - Junior High and High School - Fiddleford becomes BFFs with them both - Fiddleford starts crushing on Ford (common interests) - Stan crushes on Fiddleford (Stan just finds Fidds cute) - All are pretty close and cuddly with each other, boundaries aren't an issue

1967 (17) - Fiddleford moves back home (Aug 31) - Fiddleford reconnects with an old childhood friend from his old neighbourhood Emma-May - Stan gets kicked out, not knowing what to, he calls Fiddleford (Nov) - Fiddleford offers Stan to stay with him and his parents - One 6 hour drive later and Stan is finally at Fiddlefords home

1967 - 1969 (17 - 19) - High school days - A few small romantic moments between Fiddleford and Stan here and there but nothing official or serious - Stan still really likes Fiddleford - Emma-May does not like Stan (jealously over how close Stan is to Fiddleford)

1969 (19) - College - Ford turns out to be their roommate - Emma-May goes to the same school too

1970 (20) - Emma-May asks Fiddleford out, he says yes but feels unsure

1970 - 1972 (20 - 22) - Stan in and out of jail for petty thefts (Expelled from college due to his crimes and bad grades)

1974 (24) - Stan gets arrested in Colombia - Ford and Fiddleford graduate from college - Emma-May asks Fiddleford to marry her - Ford moves to Gravity Falls

1974 - 1979 (24 - 29) - Ford explores Gravity Falls and writes journal 1 & 2 - Fiddleford works business and builds computers part time

1979 (29) - Stan released from prison, lives in his car / motels

1980 (30) - Fiddleford marries Emma-May (after 10 years together) (she weaseled her way in more with Fiddleford while Stan was gone) - Fiddleford wanted to wait for Stanley to be released to get married (Emma-May was not happy about that) - Lives the family life with Emma-May

1982 (32) - Ford meets Bill - Bill manipulates Ford - Ford starts to fall in love with Bill

1983 (33) - Ford calls Fiddleford to help him with his project - Leaves Emma-May during her early days of pregnancy - Fiddleford misses a lot of doc apts - The married couple begin to argue - Strange incidents and creatures start to traumatize Fiddleford - Builds the memory gun and becomes leader of the Blind Eye - Overwhelmed and stressed + portal incident, Fiddleford leaves Ford - Ford has a big fight with Bill (Starts to distrust Bill just as Bill is truly falling in love) - Ford sends postcard to Stan (early nov '84) - Ford gets sucked into portal - Stan decides to take Fords ID and place in Gravity Falls - Fakes his death

1984 cont. (34) - Tate is born (may '84) - More arguing from the married couple - Fiddleford leaves the Blind Eye - Emma-May kicks Fiddleford out - Fiddleford takes Tate with him (late nov '84) - But with no where else to go, Fiddleford goes back to Ford - However, it's not Ford, but Stanley - Already using the memory gun, Fiddleford barely remembers Stan despite growing up with each other - Stan offers Fiddleford and Tate to stay with him

1984 - 1987 (34 - 37) (0-3) - Stan and Fiddleford attempt to repair the portal - Not a lot to do with the other journals still missing - A few adventures to look for them but no luck - Divorce precedents start with Emma-May (after 18 years) - Years later, Stan still cares very much for Fiddleford - Stan automatically treats Tate as his own - Fiddleford co-raises Tate with Stan - Stan opens the Mystery Shack - Overtime, Fiddleford sees how kind Stan is with his son and finally realizes Stan has always loved and cared for him - Fiddleford starts to fall in love with Stan

1987 (37) (3) - Stan and Fiddleford get married (private wedding) - Legally, on paper, Fiddleford is married to Ford as Stan faked his death

1987 - 1990 (37 - 40) (6 - 7) - Fiddleford's PTSD and addiction flares up and he starts using the memory gun again

1991 (41) (7 - 8) - Fiddleford lost his memory completely and wonders off - Stan continues to raise Tate on his own - Both take Fiddlefords absence hard - As "Ford" Stan pretends to not know Fiddleford in public, and just writes him off as the town kook like the rest of the town - This doesn't bother Fiddleford, as Fiddleford doesn't even know him

1991 - 1999 (41 - 49) (7/8 - 14) - Tate in elementary and middle school - Gets teased / bullied about who his dad is (Everyone assumes "Ford" and Fiddleford were just "roommates" and thinks its so kind of him to take in of his crazy friends child)

1999 (49) (14) - Dipper and Mabel are born - Tate works part-time at the Mystery Shack

2000 - 2003 (50 - 53) (14 - 17/18) (3/4) - Stan and Tate visit the twins a few times of the year (its a 12 hour drive so just birthdays / holidays)

2003 (53) (18) (4) - Tate graduates from high school - Leaves town for college

2003 - 2007 (53 - 57) (18 - 22) (4 - 8) - Tate comes home during college breaks - Tate has a girlfriend

2007 (57) (22) (8) - Tate finishes college - Gets married to college girlfriend (Stan and twins are involved in the wedding) - Tate starts his own family

2007 - 2012 (57 - 62) (22 - 27) (8 - 12) - Stan lived and ran the Mystery Shack alone since Tate went off to college for 5 years (holidays with Tate and his family)

2010 (60) (25) (11) - Tate has his own son

2012 (62) (27) (12/13) - Twins come to Gravity Falls - Miscellaneous adventures over the summer - It breaks Stans heart everytime he's involved in adventures with the twins that involve Fiddleford - Fiddleford begins to regain his memories back after the Blind Eye ep - Ford comes through the portal (married to Bill for the past 25 years) - Weirdmageddon (result of a big fight with Ford and Bill) - Same events happen, Ford erases Stans memory - Bill in theraprison (a few weeks pregnant, Ford didn't know)

2012 cont (62) (27) (12) - Ford and the twins bring out photo albums to run his memory - Dipper finds dusty albums hidden under Stan's bed - They discover that Stan was married to Fiddleford. (They had no clue) - Stan starts to regain his memories - Fiddleford comes by, with his memories coming back as well - Sappy reunion (after 19 years apart) - Tate also runs over when everything is settled to find his dads

2012 - 2015 (62 - 65) (27 - 30) (13 - 16) - Ford changes his mind and let's Stan and Fiddleford stay (wants to keep an eye on them since they both have memory issues) - The twins come by every summer - Stan, Ford and Fiddleford go sailing on and off during the other months

2015 (65) (30) (16) (3) - Bill is released and on house arrest - Comes back with a toddler (Abigail Pines) - Ford is a mix of emotions, happy and full of love to see his husband again after 3 years, mad and betrayed about weirdmageddon, and hesitant and confused about "his" child (doesn't believe Bill that its his)

2015 cont (65) (30) (16) (3) - Ford barely deals with Bill at first - Mabel really believes in Bills rehabilitation and loves playing with Abigail (finally a girl to share interests with) - Stan, Fiddleford and Dipper are skeptical about Bill but gives him the benefit of doubt - Stan even gives him a part-time job at the Mystery Shack - Takes a few months for Ford to warm up to Bill again and to accept that Abigail is actually his child

[http-paprika]

There Was Something Here Once but a new day hides that haze

alternative universe / call of duty x female reader / taglist open / wc 2623 / warnings light swearing / no use of y/n / ship not yet decided / no beta, my grammarly hates me

a word from the author- i started classes in August, so I'm not on top of my writing but I started this the other day and wanting to share it with ya'll because it's too good. And for the pairing, I'm between two characters so you'll just have to see how it goes.

Dew clings to the windshield, a heavy fog leaving the morning hazy and gray. Autumn would soon have a firm hold on the small, quiet town of Aberdeen, making the weather impossible to bear if one did not have a good flannel or coat. Which was a new addition to her wardrobe when she made plans to leave the city and hide away. The one postcard sent from her college friend, the one responsible for getting her this new job, boasted a quaint downtown, heavy snows, and an eerie ambiance she couldn’t shake no matter how hard she tried. It was Twin Peaks personified, just lacking David Duchovny and a young Kyle MacLachlan. 

The engine of her Ford Bronco sputters and creaks. The old vehicle had spent the whole drive up protesting the hills and winding roads that left her constantly breaking. Now, it seemed her ancient car, that she had served her faithfully through college and early adult years, had decided to kick her in the ass. 

“No, no, no.” She groans, hitting her head against the hard steering wheel and instantly regretting it. There’d be a bruise later in the day with her luck. “Not today, baby. I’ve only been at this job a week, I can’t be late already.” 

It would be just her bad luck that the car would give out, her luck that the cell service was questionable so she couldn’t even call. But what wouldn’t be her normal bout of unfortunate events was the man who lived just down the road that she’d seen tinkering with an old sports car. She pops up her head, remembering his existence and hurries out into the morning chill. 

With her fingers crossed together that the stranger would not be a creep, she walks in a fast pace down the cracked asphalt to the little arts and crafts home that sat at the bottom of the hill. There was a blooming garden out front, despite the change in seasons, vegetable, herbs and a few flowers bursting to life and ready for harvest. The two rocking chairs on the front porch made her a little less nervous. Whoever the home belonged to, they seem charming enough in their landscape and aesthetic. 

Hands trembling, she knocks against the screen door, wondering if she should open it and knock directly on the faded blue front door. But after a few knocks, the sound of muffled footsteps reached her ears and soon enough the door was unlocked and opened. Except, the man standing in the doorway was not who she’d seen tinkering with the car, instead, he struck her as a cowboy. Someone who would’ve starred in the western movies her father watched when she was a kid. 

“Can I help you?” He asks, a dull but still visible southern twang visible in his voice. Maybe he was a cowboy, his checkered shirt and worn down boots said as much. 

“Oh, um–” She pauses, trying to collect herself so as to not sound like a fool. The anxiety of being late and belittled by her unruly coworkers was pressing deep into her skin. “I’m sorry for disturbing you so early in the morning. But I just moved into the house up the road last week and my car doesn't want to run today and I’m going to be late for work. I had noticed in passing before that there’s someone in this household who works on cars and was wondering if he’d be willing to take a look at the engine for me? I’m helpless with mechanics.” 

The man nods, understanding her plea for help. “That’s right, John spends all his free time on that hunk of shit.” 

“Are you talking bad about my car again, Phillip?” A booming voice asked from inside the house, it caused her to stand at attention being vividly alert. Suddenly, the man she’d seen while driving by is standing over Phillip’s shoulder, hands resting on Phillip’s hips and a tilt to his head. “Hello there, not often we get new people in these parts.” 

“She just moved into the Riley’s house, her car is acting up, John.” Phillip tells the newcomer in the conversation. Together, the men made quite a fitting pair, rugged and worn at the edges, with various lengths of facial hair and two sets of blue eyes. Without them having to say it out loud, she could feel the warmth of their shared intimacy, a love she could only envy and never grasp. 

“Really? Never thought anyone would be willing to buy it— Ow!” John grumbles, rubbing his side where Phillip had jutted his elbow. “Right, your car. Let me get my things.” 

She frowns at the statement the man had begun but been unable to finish. What had John meant by that? Sure, the house wasn't the nicest, there were cobwebs in corners, cracks on some of the window panes, and a musty smell from sitting empty for a while, but it was a nice enough house. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a cozy kitchen that looked out into the woods. It was a quaint cottage that was a dream come true compared to the studio apartment she’d left behind. 

John disappears back into the house, leaving her with an awkward look on her face as Phillip stands there. She wants to ask what John meant by it, the curiosity or rather fear of the truth taps insistently against her skull. But she imagined her neighbor would just shut her down like he’d done with his partner. 

“If it can be fixed, John can fix it, ma’am. He owns and runs the little auto shop in town, you’ve probably seen it. It’s the only one in this hellhole.” Phillip tells her, breaking up the static silence that had overcome them. 

“You don’t like it here?” She raises a brow, surprised to hear it. The few coworkers she had at her new job only sang the praises of Abedreen, telling her it was the greatest little town to live in. But it was clear in Phillip’s tone that he didn’t share the sentiment. 

“I like John, that’s enough to take me anywhere.” 

There was a faithfulness in his voice she didn’t think she’d ever heard outside of television and novels. Her parents were divorced when she was a girl, all her friends in college seemed to have constant relationship problems and doubts, but there wasn’t a doubt in his words. 

“Alright, lead the way.” John reappears behind his partner with a fat toolbox in hand, seemingly unaware of what Phillip had said. But she had a suspicion he knew, because as subtle as it was, she noticed John loop his finger quickly through the belt loop of Phillip’s jeans and tug slightly. And as she turned away to walk off the porch, the smile on Phillip’s face was as visible as the mist that hung in front of her. 

The crunching of John’s boots on top of the gravel kept her company as they walked back to the road. There was a clear impression that the man was the less talkative of the couple, using few words to get his point across. Normally, she wouldn’t mind, but his big hulking figure following her like a shadow kept her nervous. While Phillip had reminded her of the movies her father used to watch, John reminded her of her father. Broad shoulders, dark hair covering his jaw, lack of conversation, and intimidating stature. She couldn’t even remember where her father had been born. Somewhere out west, or so she thought. 

“So how come you moved to Aberdeen?” He finally speaks up once they’re on the road, headed back up the hill to her new home. “Got family in the area?”

“No.”

“Okay. You don’t exactly strike me as the logging or mining type–” 

“An old college friend was from here, and I happened to come across a job position at the library and remember her telling me about the town.” She shrugs, not knowing what else to say without spiraling into the life events that left her desperate enough to start anew in the middle of nowhere, in a town no one seemed to know about. 

“Ah.” John responds. She turned to look quickly down at the asphalt, his thoughtful gaze told her more than enough. He knew there was more to the story, and either he didn’t care or he was polite enough not to ask. “Who’s the friend?”

“What?”

“Your old college friend from here? Who are they? I’d probably know them, lived my entire life in the area.” He says, coming to a slow pace as they reached the top of the hill, her Bronco sitting and waiting to be inspected. She could only pray he could tell her it was fixable. 

“Um, Beau Ridley. Well, now Beau Mayfield since she’s married.” She rambles off, stopping quickly in fear that she’s being too much. A habit she’d developed quickly in college. 

“Yeah, I know Beau– pop the hood for me?” John sets down his tool box and she scurries to follow his orders like a kid finding the right wrench for their dad. Despite owning the car for ages, she struggles to remember where she had to look to open the boot. Finally, the boot clicked open and her view out the windshield was obscured with the metal. From this view, she could see just how badly the paint had begun to fade, and that there was dried bird poop that hadn’t been there the night before. 

“Sorry.” She apologizes as she climbs back out of her car, fiddling with the sleeve of her shirt.

“What for?” He doesn’t even bother looking up from the engine of the car as he pokes around. Blinking at him, she realizes he doesn’t care that it took her a bit too long to pop the trunk or that she disturbed his morning. Realizing that makes her shift from one foot to another and drop her gaze down to the dirt of her driveway. 

“Do me a favor and try to turn on the engine, would ya?” John asks and she quickly hurries to fulfill that task too. She hated meeting new people and new beginnings simply because it meant she had to work hard to make a good impression, the people here weren’t disappointed in her and expected failure like those she knew before. It was a feeling she hated, seeking approval. Yet she did it anyway. 

Propping herself up in the driver’s seat, she fumbles with her keys– the cat keychain she had kept getting in the way– before finally turning the key in the ignition. The rough sound of her car sputtering and struggling, failing to do it’s most basic task of running, causes her to wince. And when she pokes her head out to see John’s expression as she continues to try to make it turn on, she realizes her car is screwed. 

“So?”

“Need to get in the shop,” He informs her. John takes his time explaining what he believed to be the problem and it went all over her head, so she simply nodded. She knew how to change a tire, replace the blinker fluid, and even knew where to refill the car’s coolant, but anything more was outside her realm of knowledge. “You didn’t understand a thing I said, did ya?” 

“No sir.” 

John nods his head in sympathy, probably used to clueless customers in his auto shop. Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, John pulls out his cracked phone and types up a number. “I’ll call my tow-guy to come up and take it down to the shop, free of charge.”

“How am I going to get to work?” She suddenly responds, remembering why she’d even gone to John’s house in the first place. There’d always been a struggle for her to focus on what comes after something, stuck in the present unable to look forward to the future. Even if the future is only an hour away. 

“Where do you work?” He asks her, putting the phone up to his ear to make the call. 

“At the library.” She responds quickly, John registers her words with a nod before turning away to speak to his tow-driver. He barks at the unfortunate driver, seemingly annoyed by his antics until the call finally ends and he turns on his boot heel to look back at her. 

“Johnny’s gonna be here in about twenty minutes, he’ll drop you off at the library. If that’s alright with you?” John says, making sure that she was comfortable with the situation. “Otherwise, I could drive you down later once I’m done with my breakfast and coffee.” 

“No, no, that’s more than enough.” Her mind keeps going back to his statement, free of charge. How many times had she gotten something in life free? Rarely, if she could remember correctly. “Thank you, John.” 

“You’re in Aberdeen. We take care of our neighbors here.” He turns to close his tool box, picking up the metal container with ease. “You fine with waiting on your own–”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s fine.” The thought of inconveniencing John further after he’d already taken time out of his day to help her was too much to ask. Even if she didn’t like the idea of waiting for a stranger to come get her car and take her to work, she’d handle it. 

“You sure?”

“Yes, thank you. Again.” John nods, turning to leave with a hum in his throat low in sound but enough for her to hear in the morning. The fog is beginning to dissipate, letting the autumn sun climb through the tall spindly pine trees, the crisp air clings to your lungs like swallowing ice water. Up here, she finds that she can take a moment to breathe. Away from the bustling traffic of the city, the bog that coated the air. The only noise here was birdsong and wind. A bliss that eclipsed her senses before her phone decides to ring– her manager’s number on the caller ID. 

Her manager forgives the lateness, and even tried to ask if they could do anything to help her but she declines. Sitting on the front step of her house, the hum of a truck overtakes the sounds of nature. And when the tow truck slows to a stop in front of the cottage, she finds herself biting the inside of her cheek. The sudden realization that there’s a stranger here to get her car and take her to work makes her queasy. If she were still in the city, she would’ve considered taking the spotty public transport over this. But it was too far and difficult of a trek to make with her heavy work tote slung over her shoulders and her loafers sinking into the mud from last night’s rain. She wouldn’t make it walking. 

The door of the tow truck opens and the driver climbs out, his back stays turned to her as he reaches back in to grab something. The navy coveralls compliment his tanned arms well, and when he turns to look at her, she realizes they match his eyes as well. Even with his odd mohawk-like hair she finds herself coughing on nothing at the sight of his face. 

“You alright, ma’am?” He asks, knitting his brows together in his concern. There’s a golden look in his face, 

“Yeah, yeah. You’re Johnny?” She wheezes, struggling to clear her throat. 

“That’s right. I’ll have your car hooked up and you to work in no time.” He promises her with a grin, and she fully believes it. Maybe Aberdeen wasn’t the worst little town to exist?

Chapter II

[winchester-girl67]

Wild Hearts (Part 4) - Postcards From Dean

Summary: Postcards from Dean to Y/N; sent over the years they were apart. 

Masterlist

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader 

Square: Postcards @j3bingo

Word Count: 743 

Warnings: underage, age gap (reader is 16-22, Dean is 20-26), language, slow burn, long distance relationship of sorts, pining, maybe a little angst, time jumps, fluff 

A/N: This part was written for @j3bingo go as a collection of AU postcards from Dean to Y/N.

_____ 

A few of your favourite postcards from Dean - from the six years you were apart. 

___________________________________

Hey Y/N, 

What do you write on a postcard? 

Dean

P.S. I picked up a stack of these at a rest stop on the way to Sioux Falls and I thought you'd like some old school snail-mail. I'm aware that your parents and the mailman will probably read this too, so... I'm sorry I got your daughter into trouble and now she has- what, ten hours of community service left? But, she's kind of a badass and saved my life so don't go too hard on her. 

P.P.S. And to the mailman: Not cool, dude. 

___________________________________

Dear Y/N, 

Sam told me to start these with 'Dear' instead of 'Hey', I kind of like the way it sounds so I let him be right for once. Bobby and Jody are pretty cool, they won't even let me pay rent so we can save more money. We'll have a place of our own in no time now. 

xo Dean 

P.S. I hope the 'x' is okay, if not I blame Sam. If so, it was all my idea. You can't tell but I just winked at you. 

P.P.S. It's my birthday and Jody made me a cherry pie! It was so good, I had every intention of saving you a piece but now I'll just have to learn how to make one for you instead. Can't wait for your phone call tonight so I can tell you all about it. 

___________________________________

Dear Y/N, 

It took a little longer than I thought but we just moved into our own apartment! It's closer to Sam's college but we can still visit Bobby and Jody with a short car ride. 

xo Dean 

P.S. Think you'll come visit me on your gap year? 

___________________________________

Dear Y/N, 

It snowed today! And I'm making pasta tonight. You can drool over it via video chat later. I wish we were in the same time zone so you could ring in the new year with me too. 

I’m missing you a lot lately,  xo Dean 

P.S. I'm sending you a big fat kiss. You can put it where you want it. X 

P.P.S. To the mailman: Get your mind out of the gutter. She's a lady! 

___________________________________

Dear Y/N, 

I'm seriously craving Donna's mocha ice cream right now. I think it would go great with Jody’s cherry pie recipe. Don't knock it till you try it! 

xo Dean

P.S. Sam hasn't stopped playing that playlist you made him for studying. I swear you have the worst taste in music. I'm going to make you a playlist tonight. 

___________________________________

Dear Y/N, 

I think I like the mountains on this postcard best, we should take a roadtrip there together, maybe next Valentine’s day? 

x Dean 

P.S. I don't like airplanes. 

P.P.S. But I'm going to take you to all the places on these postcards some day. 

P.P.P.S. I hope you're still pinning these postcards to your wall so you can hold them over my head some day. 

___________________________________

Dear Y/N, 

I'm sorry. 

xx Dean 

P.S. If I could have one superpower it would be the ability to control the weather. 

P.P.S. Getting snowed in would be a lot more fun WITH you. 

P.P.P.S. Maybe my superpower should’ve been teleportation! Damn it, is it too late to change my answer? 

___________________________________

Dear Y/N, 

I just dropped Sam off for his first year of law school. I feel old. Luckily, he got another scholarship though, so I don't have to worry about paying his tuition. Kid's a major nerd. 

x Dean 

P.S. I'm actually in California! The salt air here makes me think of home, of you. You feel so far away right now. I'm not even looking at the same ocean. That sucks. 

P.P.S. We haven't talked in a while and I know that's mostly my fault, but I wanted to give you a heads up. I'm coming home... Soon. 

___________________________________

Dear Y/N, 

Did you notice there's no stamp? 

Always yours, 

xoxo Dean 

P.S. I was going to tell you to meet me where I first kissed you but that's a hell of a walk. So meet me under our streetlamp. The one where you put ice cream on my nose the first night we met. 

P.P.S. I hope you come, I can't wait to see you. But I understand and no hard feelings if you don't. 

_________________________

Part 5

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28 @backseat-of-deans-67chevy

SPN: @hobby27

Wild Hearts: @justrealizedimmascifygurl @evieluvsjamie @kimberkingrivers @vicmc624 @ladysparkles78

[mstarcreates]

A/N: make sure you scroll all the way to the bottom for a special treat! Happy Festival of the Lost Guardians!

***********************

Special: Festival of the Lost

Cayde looked around as he waited by the ramen bar, tapping his finger against the handle of his holstered weapon. He sighed a little and leaned back against the bar. Night had already fallen over the Tower and there were a ton of Guardians filtering through the place, all of them donning various face masks.

Many were of himself, which he found particularly amusing. But there were others too; the Witness, Riven, Master Rahool and even the Colonel. By far his favorite was the one he currently had stowed in his back pocket.

The Tower has also been fully decorated for the event, there were lanterns strewn across every conceivable corner, candles littered about burning soft flames and bright orange flowers that pulsed when he got near them. It was truly a sight. However, the guy he’d planned to share it with was nowhere to be seen and he was starting to get a little antsy.

He was sure Crow was just running a bit behind, taking Cayde’s place as Hunter Vanguard hadn’t exactly been a cakewalk. Still, it wasn’t like Crow to be late without letting him know.

What if something happened? The thought slithered in and it was enough to get Cayde pacing, his hands going from his waist to being crossed and then back to his waist again. Like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

Then he heard familiar footsteps. He’d know those boots from anywhere. Cayde turned quickly toward the source of the sound, his cardiac drive all but stopping in his chest. Crow was surrounded by several Guardians—mostly Hunters—all vying for an autograph on their masks. True to his nature, Crow smiled and signed as many as he could.

Cayde’s chest immediately ached at the sight. Here was this guy who used to be the universe’s biggest jerk; a Prince, a murderer, and an outcast now having finally come into his own. He was confident, sure of himself and the path he’d chosen, wearing his Hunter Vanguard cloak with pride. Man, had he earned it, Cayde smiled at the thought.

Something about seeing Crow like this, well it just never got old. Finally, Crow managed to wiggle away from the gaggle of Hunters, to catch up with him.

“What are you grinning about?” Crow asked him in lieu of a greeting.

“You,” Cayde answered without any hesitation.

“Me?”

“Yeah, look at you. Signing autographs and mingling with Guardians. Just got me thinking how funny fate is sometimes.”

“Sure, fate’s a riot. I’ll put that in an inspirational postcard.”

“It brought us together didn’t it?”

“I suppose there’s that one very specific thing.”

“Oh!” Cayde snapped his fingers. “I know, you could add it to the obnoxious collection of sticky notes you’ve got. Seriously, who the hell puts them on the screen?”

“You’re just hurt because I took down the one you stuck on.” Crow chuckled softly as he settled in next to Cayde.

“It was art!”

“It was a drawing of me dressed as a chili pepper.”

“As inspiration for this evening,” Cayde gestured outwardly to indicate that he meant the festivities currently happening.

Crow shook his head, a small laugh leaving him. “I’m not sure I’ll ever understand you, Cayde.”

“Probably best to stop while you’re ahead and just…run with it.” Cayde grinned wide again, finally taking the mask he’d purchased from Eva out of his pocket. He quickly pulled it on.

“Oh not you too,” Crow groaned instantly at the sight of his own face. Well, Uldren Sov’s face to be more exact. “Do you have any idea how many Guardians have been popping up to taunt me with that thing? That's why I was late.”

Cayde ignored him and proceeded to do his best impression of Uldren. “Oh look at me! I’m Uldren Sov, the broody Awoken Prince! I like to listen to sad music and write lengthy poems in the dark about how no one understands me.”

“Alright, you want to go there? We’ll go there.” Crow pulled a mask from his own inventory and donned it quickly. Soon Cayde was staring back at himself. He chuckled a little at that. “I’m Cayde-6, I never take anything seriously, including my own death. I like to play pranks on everyone, especially my Hunter Vanguard boyfriend—despite the fact that he outranks me.”

Cayde put a hand to his chest, pretending to be offended. “Pulling the Vanguard title card on me already, Crow? And here I thought we had somethin’ special.”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before teasing me.”

“Alright, well I’ve had just about enough of this,”Cayde pulled his mask off and then grabbed Crow by the front of his cloak, tugging him closer. Then he took Crow’s mask by the edge and pushed it upwards to reveal his face. “I know exactly how to shut you up.”

Crow quirked a playful eyebrow, but Cayde could see a flush already starting to form. “You’re going to kiss me? Out here in the bazaar? Bold.”

“Bold is my middle name.” Then he leaned up and pressed his lips against Crow’s.

[hebimoonlightwrites]

awww I really liked the writing about "✉️" of the event I would like to request that for nayuta and hajun with a reader fem! plss (๑'ᵕ'๑)⸝*

Writer’s corner: Hey!! I'm so glad you appreciated it! I hope you will forgive me for being late at answering your request, sweetheart! qwq Of course I can do one with our dear Nayuta and our sadistic prince Hajun! I hope you will like it and, if you don't, please, tell me what you'd like me to fix or change! ♥ Enjoy and have a fantastic summer~!

mc's pronouns: SHE/HER (FEM!reader)

Warnings: none, just sfw and cute stuff♥

☀️𝐍𝐚𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐣𝐮𝐧☀️𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐜

✉️: if they went on vacation, what kind of postcard they would send mc (R)

☀️Nayuta felt a strange feeling inside when he realized he would have been away from his usual slum-apartment and especially from you. As he has always been kind of serious and dry towards people around him, he cannot really hide his anxiety and slight sadness to you. Just while you were helping him preparing his luggage, Nayuta was sitting on the futon, with his big eyes fixed on you. You could see his puppy eyes sparkling softly and his throat occasionally letting some deep sighs. "What's wrong,my sweet boo?", you smiled warmly at him while folding some of his t-shirts and putting them into his suitcase. He sighed again and looked away: "You really can't come with me..?", you heard his low voice almost hushed. What you could only do was to look at his cute figure and smiled warmly: "Don't worry, Nayu.. It's only for a week. You'll see how fun it will be! And.. you know, you're not alone! Your brother is coming with you." As you spoke he turned and looked at you: "I want you to accompany me."... Those words surprised you and made your cheeks go redder.

☀️After his words, you decided to reassure him and the following day you saw him and Kanata getting on the bus and disappearing behind the corner's street. You felt how anxious both looked, especially because they had never been away from their slum, nor away from the city itself. But you smiled at yourself. "They need it.. I hope they will have fun and relax while away.", you said to yourself. Of course you started missing both Nayuta and Kanata, but you could see how usual Nayuta sent you texts like random: "I love you", or "I miss you", or even.. "Here sucks without you." You couldn't help but chuckle at reading his random texts or seeing his random pics. He even sent you a pic while laying on the bed and Kanata snoring in the background. One day, though, something surprised you, as you received a postcard from Nayuta, your sweet boo:

"Y/n, sweetie.. It's the first time I try to send a postcard, so I hope I didn't miss anything up. Why did I send it even if I texted you online? I don't know... You know when you told me to have fun? Well.. even if I'm on vacation with my brother, and even if I have never been on vacation before, nor saw all these beautiful places outside my city, well... I cannot have fun if you're not beside me! I cannot help, but think about you all day and all night. Like.. What is she doing? What has she done today? Is she happy?.. I didn't believe in love before meeting you, but... now I do because I have you and only when you're beside me I can say to be truly and fully happy... It sounds too wholesome, maybe too much, but I don't care. I just can't wait to come back, only for you. I miss you. Nayuta."

☀️When Hajun got that he had to go on a trip with BAE, he looked happy at first. But when he got that you wouldn't have gone with the three of them, he changed his expression to one of sadness. The idea of going on a trip and being away from you kind of made him sad and especially concerned. You would have stayed at their apartment while they were away and Hajun spent all the last days buying a lot of stuff for you, like your favourite snacks and meals. Even if sometimes sadistic, he really cares about his friends, and especially about you. "Darling, I've also bought some chips and snacks, in case you want to watch a movie at night..!". You smiled at him, happy to see how caring he was behaving. You could see a soft fear in his eyes, a fear that he was able to hide but you could still see. So you got the chance, when you both were alone and he was preparing his own luggage: "Hajun.. It will be a short vacation. I won't forget you", you said chuckling surprising him. As his eyes met yours, you could see how reassuring your words were to him. He hugged you tightly and whispered to your ear: "I love you..."

☀️The following day you waved at him, Allen and Anne as you could feel Allen's and Anne's excitement for the vacation. Hajun tried to keep his usual confident and prince-like behaviour, but his eyes kept following your figure, especially after getting on the bus. He waved at you smiling especially after seeing your lips moving to form the words: "I love you.". The following day you missed cuddling with Hajun, but you even laid and slept on his bed when you felt like missing him a lot. You even checked online if he even sent you any text. Of course he didn't, actually. But one day you received a postcard from him, with some pictures of him buying ice-creams and cute stuff with BAE:

"Darling, How are you doing, my love? I'm sorry for not texting you, but will you believe me if I tell you that Anne did a huge mess in the kitchen while trying to help me and Allen cooking? Also I didn't text you actually because I wanted you to miss me... Did I manage to get you all sad for missing me~? By the way I hope that you're safe and fine at home. We're doing great here, even if it's not the same without you and your adorable clumsiness.. I bought something for you. I'll give you once come back~ I miss you too, darling.♥ Hajun."

©hebimoonlightwrites_tumblr Please, do not copy my contents nor repost it without my permission.

[evans23]

RICKMAS 2024 - DAY 10 - LINGERING TOUCH

Pairing : David Friedman x OC (Gemma)

Summary : David found a old postcard from an old classmate. He was in love with her once. Maybe she was the right one for him. Maybe it's not too late.

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Messy life. Slight mention of depression. Tell me if I forgot anything.

A/N : Ok, not my best one. I didn't really know where I was going with this one, I feel like a old disc always playing the same song again and again... guess it's the feeling when you write 24 stories in kind of a rush because you didn't start earlier HAHA

Also read on AO3 - Wattpad

It was so long ago. But he remembered it like it was yesterday. He had been fourteen the first time he had seen her. He had just arrived at his new school, here in Louisiana. She was a year younger than him, but because he had repeated a grade, he had ended up in the same class as her. She was smarter than everyone else, but shy and modest. She was pretty, but she was so introverted that the other boys made fun of her more than they fell in love with her. But he had fallen in love. Not right away, but over time, by dint of observing her, of discovering her in spite of herself.

She was kind but not lacking in character, she loved English literature, had a strange love for Australia and for Marlon Brando.

She was also a dancer. She had been doing classical dance since the age of four and dreamed of joining the prestigious Juilliard. This dream that she carried like a banner, no one believed in it. Neither her teachers, nor her so-called girlfriends and even less her parents. He, however, supported her and believed in it probably even more than she did herself.

They had become friends and between them, a strange tension had quickly been born. A tension between love and friendship, a thin veil that she had always refused to cross. He had had girlfriends, she had been jealous, but had never done anything to break him up or make him understand that she wanted him.

She, for her part, had never had anyone. Rumours were circulating that she preferred girls, but the truth was that she was too focused on her dream, too busy protecting it. According to her, a boy would ruin everything.

David, who was now 42, thought back to her with nostalgia when, while tidying up old boxes at his mother's house who had just passed away, he found an old postcard she had sent him. A postcard from Australia. A simple line: It's as beautiful as I had imagined.

At the time, David had already stopped hearing from her. He was 26, he had just met Lauren and was building his career in the police. But something told him that his best friend of all time, Gemma, had not become a professional dancer.

It had been a long time since he had stopped tidying up, his lingering touch unable to let go of the card.

"Dave, are you eating with me tonight ?"

Her father's voice made her jump. The old man seemed to be between two worlds since the death of his wife, two weeks before, from a long and trying cancer. David had arrived just in time to say goodbye. Lauren hadn't wanted to leave Jodie, their daughter, with them. She had felt that she was too young to witness her grandmother's death. David had protested and cursed, but it had been no use and Jodie had not been able to offer a last kiss to her grandmother who had remained lucid until the end.

"Of course, Dad."

"What are you looking at there ?" he asked as he approached, not having missed the lump in his son's throat when he had spoken.

David held out the postcard to him. Michael Friedman remembered Gemma well. A young girl with a mischievous appearance, shy as can be but well-mannered, who never failed to bring him his favorite chocolates when she came to work on a school project with David.

"Have you heard from her ?"

"Not since... Since this card," David murmured.

When he got home that night, David couldn't even remember the route he had taken, his mind had been so invaded by the memory of Gemma. Where was she and what had happened to her ? Was she still dancing ? Did she have children?

A few days later, while he was working late on some overdue administrative files, a bottle of grape juice to replace his good old whiskey now that he had been sober for two years, Lauren's sine qua non condition if he wanted to continue seeing their daughter. David had complied out of fear of not wanting to see the apple of his eye anymore. He had already suffered enough seeing his wife run away with his colleague and, at the time, friend, to see himself on top of that being separated from his daughter.

While he was alone at the police station, he found himself thinking about Gemma again. There had to be a way to know where she was, what she was doing. He could type her name into the program. And it itched like never before. On the other hand, he knew it was wrong, not that it would be the first time he had searched without being asked, but this was an old friend.

He looked left, right, took a sip of his grape juice, a chocolate chip cookie softened by the heat of the police station, and finally, he typed her name.

Gemma Meredith Penelope Sawyer. She lived in Baton Rouge. Alone. No kids. She was still alive, so she'd gotten two speeding tickets and a third for parking in a handicapped spot.

She lived so close to him. For so long. Years when he could have gotten back in touch. On the other hand, he'd look pretty smart to show up at her house. Did she even remember him ?

"Are you completely sick, Dave, have you been drinking again ?" Sadie asked in an amused voice on the other end of the phone.

"Oh, come on, I'm not asking for the president's private number."

"David, I can't give you information on a young woman just because you knew her in your younger years and suddenly want to get back in touch."

"I'm just asking for an email address, not her social security number !"

A long silence followed, broken only by fingers tapping on a keyboard.

"David, I swear you owe me one for this," Sadie said seriously.

"Whatever you want," David replied, unable to hide his smile.

He had been staring at a blank page for hours wondering what he could possibly write to her without looking like a complete moron. And how would he explain how he got her email address ?

"Damn it, David, get nervous, old chap," he scolded himself.

"Gemma,

This email is probably going to seem strange to you, especially after all these years. I don't expect a response from you. I'm not even sure you remember me.

But I never forgot you. You became my best friend in that school where everything seemed hostile. Where I didn't want to be because I missed my life in Seattle, my friends and my football club.

Last week, I found a card you sent me from a trip to Australia and I thought about you, about those years when you helped me with my homework. Or should I say, when you let me copy your homework so I could get good grades.

I couldn't help but wonder what happened to you. I hope you're well.

David Friedman."

He had reread, edited, deleted, rewritten this email dozens of times, his finger lingering on the send button before finally deciding on impulse.

And thirty minutes later he received a reply.

"David,

Indeed, I did not expect to receive an email from you. Where did you get my email address anyway ?

That said, I am happy to read you after all these years, and of course I remember you.

You were my best friend, my confidant.

I am as well as one can be. And you ?

Gemma."

She had replied. Without hostility. David hesitated for a long moment. Did he want a long correspondence through an exchange of emails ?

No, not really. In the one he sent back to her, he asked her if she wanted to see each other, awaiting her response with apprehension. But when she said yes, he thought his heart would explode, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time.

And now here he was, in this little café in Baton Rouge. And she was late. It wasn’t like her, at least not in the past. She was always the type to show up thirty minutes early. But a sudden thought came to him. Maybe she was already here, but she had changed so much that he didn’t recognize her.

The bell above the red door chimed as David stared at the customers without even bothering to be discreet. He turned and froze. She hadn’t changed. The same slender body, the same deep green almond eyes, the same small round lips. It was her and time had barely taken a place on her face.

“Hello, David,” she said in her soft voice when she reached him.

"Gemma, hello," he whispered.

He felt shy, almost stupid. He invited her to sit down and he couldn't help but stare at her. She had barely changed. Except her eyes. They were dull. There was no longer that passionate woman he had so often admired. Life must have been very hard on her. As it had been on him.

As before, she still didn't drink alcohol and, without understanding why, he felt compelled to tell her that he was abstinent. The relief he felt when she didn't judge him, but just congratulated him, was indescribable. If David were honest with himself, he would admit that she was the one he would have wanted in his life, to marry and it was with her that he would have wanted to start a family. But life had decided otherwise.

"I'm glad you reached out to me," she told him after he told her how he got her email address.

"And I'm glad you agreed to meet me. I wasn't sure... I mean, it's been so long."

"It's just life that separated us. I don't remember that we had a terrible fight or something. We just went our separate ways."

Before they parted, David's hand lingered a little longer than he would have liked. And in that lingering touch, something old and long-lost stirred again.

When she agreed to see him again, for the first time in years, more than a decade, he thought he was finally getting his second chance.

She understood him so well without ever judging him, but it wasn't surprising. She had been accepted to Juilliard at seventeen, but she hadn't gotten a scholarship and her parents couldn't afford to pay for her education. She had worked a series of low-paying jobs, first in Los Angeles where she had wanted to try her luck as an actress or a dancer, but where she had ended up selling burgers in a pair of hot pants and a crop top for a store that was a little too orange for her. and danced in small studios before becoming a ballet teacher for a small studio in New York where she had lived for five years on a pittance and debts. Her parents had helped her pay off her debts and she had returned to Baton Rouge, first to her parents, which she had experienced as the worst of failures.

"The truth is that I wanted to... well, you know what I mean," she had confided to David.

He could see. He had wanted too and if he hadn't had his little Jodie, he surely would have.

"When my grandmother died, my father, my uncle and my two aunts agreed to let me buy her apartment and they were kind enough to give me a price well below what it was worth. I was able to regain a little independence. But not far from Baton Rouge like I had always wanted."

David remembered well this desire she had to want to escape. She had never felt like she belonged in Louisiana.

"No matter where I am, I feel like I never belong," she whispered before giving him a sad smile.

"So what do you do now ?"

"I got a certificate in accounting through night school. I work for a small publishing company. I'm a receptionist, actually, but I help out in accounting sometimes. I'm also allowed to take manuscripts sometimes and give my opinion, even though I know they don't care at all.

"Accountant ?" You?" David said with a smile.

"You can laugh, but you know what, accounting is easier than equations."

He was impressed. She had fallen, got back up and kept going, even if she wasn't entirely happy.

"Are you still dancing ?"

"Yes, I work for Dance & Breath on Wednesday nights and all day Saturdays. It's a very small school and I do it really for the love of it because the pay is minimal, but I don't care about the money. It allows me to keep one foot in dance. And you, do you still play football ?"

"I'm afraid I'm too busy chasing criminals," he said sarcastically.

"Do you like what you do ?"

David froze. It was the first time anyone had asked him that question. He had never asked himself that question.

"Well... I chose this job because I liked it," he replied, thinking.

"And you still like it ?"

I've seen a lot of horror. I've rarely seen good triumph. I don't really know," he admitted.

"But it puts bread on the table," she said, shrugging, "like answering phones and doing the accounting in exchange for a few manuscripts to read."

"You may have held the next big thing in your hands for the next twenty years."

"Maybe."

That night, she had agreed to end the evening at his place. David had had no second thoughts in inviting her, and fortunately so because he had barely settled down on the couch when he had fallen asleep, exhausted from his day of work.

In the morning, she was still there, the coffee had been made and she was reading the thriller he had started two months earlier.

"That really sucks, I don't know how you can read something like that," she told him with a teasing smile.

"I've already solved the mystery," he replied, his voice hoarse with sleep.

He stood up, stretching his arms above his head, growling like a bear before heading towards the sweet smell of coffee and he found himself thinking that he could get used to having her near him every morning.

Weeks passed and the late nights at David's house became whole weekends, weeks and finally, she put her apartment up for rent to move in with him. David thought he was entitled to a second chance in every aspect of his life without knowing that Gemma felt the same way, she who had had so little luck whether it was in love or professionally.

She had finally met Jodie who had immediately adored you. It must be said that the little girl was starting to take an interest in fashion and Gemma had a wardrobe worthy of a clothing store and she didn't say anything when Jodie had fun trying on her things; it didn't take much for Jodie to adopt her and even Lauren seemed to view her ex-husband's new relationship favourably.

"She does you good, David, you can see that," she had told him one evening when he brought her their daughter.

Little by little, Gemma had invested every space in David's life. She supported him, comforted him on the evenings when business marked him so much that he was depressed. She never complained when he came home late or not at all.

The month of December had been particularly trying for David. A difficult investigation into the disappearances of women, women who painfully resembled his Gemma for whom he was afraid every second, for fear that she would be the next one. But he had managed to arrest the culprit a week before Christmas for his greatest relief. He had never said anything about his fears to the young woman so as not to overwhelm her, but she had known how to interpret his silences and help him without pushing him to talk.

On that Christmas Eve, he and Jodie were at her parents' house. They had also invited David's father so that he would not be alone and David had found that very kind of them. But that evening, David's mind was far from the turkey and roast potatoes, from the smile of his father who got along wonderfully with Gemma's thanks to their shared passion for fly fishing. Jodie was having fun with the family's old German shepherd and she would soon receive the three-story Barbie house that she had asked her father for since April.

But all David could think about was the moment when he would be alone with Gemma. Just before midnight, he would ask her if they could go to her car. He would tell her how much she had given him hope, how happy he was to have reconnected with her and to have her back in his life. He was happy that after all these years, the feelings he had once had for her had returned strong and violent and that they were reciprocated.

And in less than an hour, he would take out the green velvet box he kept inside his inner pocket, he would open it, and he would ask her to share the rest of her life with him, if she felt able to bear him when he was old and grumpy. She would surely tell him playfully that he was already old and grumpy and he would love her more for it. In the meantime, he would keep his hand on the small box, just to make sure the ring it contained wouldn't disappear, safely tucked away beneath his lingering touch.

[sussyjake]

Summary  - Amidst the vibrant colors of fall, yn and Jake's accidental collision while walking their dogs initiates a charming tale.

Pairing : jake x female!reader

Warnings : none!

Genre : fluffy fluff fluff

word count : 500 (I think)

Disclaimer : this is my first time writing so it may not be the best!

————————————————————————

Y/N pulled her scarf a bit tighter around her neck as she walked through the park on a brisk fall afternoon, her loyal corgi, Peanut, trotting happily alongside her. The trees were adorned with leaves in various shades of red, orange, and gold, creating a picturesque scene that felt straight out of a postcard. Lost in her thoughts, Y/N didn't notice the path ahead curving until it was too late.

With an unexpected collision, she found herself stumbling into someone. A jolt of surprise shot through her as she steadied herself, the crisp leaves around them swirling in the air. Her heart raced not just from the bump but from the sudden encounter with a stranger.

"I'm so sorry!" Y/N exclaimed, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

A warm chuckle met her ears, and she looked up to see a boy with kind eyes and a friendly smile. He was rubbing his arm where they had collided, but his expression was nothing short of amused.

"No worries, it happens!" he replied, his voice carrying a hint of laughter.

Y/N's embarrassment began to fade, replaced by a growing sense of curiosity. She studied the boy, taking in his messy brown hair and the playful twinkle in his eyes. Beside him, a beautiful border collie named Layla wagged its tail enthusiastically, clearly unbothered by the collision.

"I'm Y/N," she introduced herself, offering a shy smile.

"Jake," he replied, extending a hand. Y/N shook it, the contact sending a small jolt through her. As their hands separated, a brief but electric connection lingered.

As they chatted, Y/N discovered that Jake was an avid dog lover just like her. They exchanged stories of their furry companions, laughing about their quirks and antics. Peanut and Layla quickly hit it off, chasing each other in playful circles as their owners shared their tales.

"Would you believe Layla once chased her own tail for a solid five minutes?" Jake chuckled, scratching the collie's ears affectionately.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "That sounds like something Peanut would do. He's convinced his tail is a perpetual game of tag."

As the conversation flowed effortlessly, the chill in the air seemed to dissipate. Time slipped away, and it wasn't until the sun began its descent that Y/N realized how long they had been talking.

"Hey, I hate to cut this short, but I should probably head home soon," Jake said with a regretful smile.

Y/N nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment at the thought of their interaction ending. But then, an idea struck her.

"Do you come here often?" she asked, hopeful.

"All the time, actually. Layla needs her daily exercise," Jake replied.

"Me too. Maybe we could... you know, meet up again sometime?" Y/N suggested, trying to sound casual despite the flutter in her chest.

Jake's smile widened. "I'd like that. How about we exchange numbers?"

As they swapped contact information, Y/N felt a sense of excitement building within her. What had started as an accidental collision now held the promise of something more. With a final smile, they each continued their walks, the memory of falling leaves and warm laughter lingering in the air.

[drunkenlionwrites]

Hehe hi! I'm new to your blog but I like your writing a whole lot already! (I saw your post about sending in HSR stuff and was so excited!)

I was wondering about a little something (even just hcs) for Sampo with a fem!reader who's basically like Natasha's little sister and works in the clinic too 💕 fluff and spice is always nice 💕

Keep up the excellent writing!

-Ally

Hi Ally! Thanks so much for the request, and so sorry for taking a long time to complete it, I've been writing less frequently as of late. Thanks for your kind words and hope you like these headcanons I came up with. 💖💖 Sampo x fem!reader who works at Natasha's clinic Warnings: none, fluff, mostly sfw, g/n reader, no pronouns, no specific body parts mentioned

You’ve been with Natasha since she’s managed to open her clinic, with some age difference, Nat basically treated you like younger sister. It was nice to have someone looking out for you in the Underworld, so you did your best to help her with anything you could, basically becoming her apprentice as well.

When a weird self-confident but a tad smarmy guy showed up in the Underworld and assisted Natasha with providing some medicine from Overworld as well as some info and intel about what has been happening in Belobog, you didn’t pay a lot of attention to him.

It’s not until he started openly flirting with you, bringing small trinkets with him when coming to clinic to trade with Natasha. “To my precious customer’s precious person, free of charge” he’d say, offering you few flowers growing only in the Overworld, some intricate sweets you’ve never tasted, notebooks, postcards with Belobog views with some cheesy one-liners written inside them.

It all looked fairly innocent, and you didn’t seem interested, always making fun of Sampo’s manner of speech and antics, so Natasha could only roll her eyes at his antics and brush everything off, with you giggling on the backside.

You haven’t even noticed how Sampo’s visits became more and more frequent, him coming to hang out in the hospital even when Natasha was out just to chat you up. He’s been nothing but gallant and polite with you, even if a bit obnoxious, so you had no reason to reject his offers to walk you home when you ran errands, to just entertain him with an idle talk when he barged into clinic saying he’s terribly bored.

With Natasha and Seele always doting on you and nagging you about Sampo’s shady ways, you decided to keep your friendship low-key and offered him to meet somewhere outside clinic, to which Sampo wholeheartedly agreed with the biggest grin you’ve seen on his face.

You didn’t know it at the time, but that was how you basically went on a first date with him and how your more intimate relationship kick-started.

Even though it has been interesting to listen to Sampo’s overexaggerated stories about his adventures and heists, it has been even more nice when his tongue was busy with something (or rather someone) other than talking.

Kissing in the dark alleyways, giggling, and hiding in the clinic’s storage room, basically devouring each other and desperately grinding your bodies, while making sure Natasha or clinic’s patients cannot hear you, hiding from angry Seele who’s been chasing Sampo to chastise him for something he has done again, constantly patching up his wounds – it all became a part of your everyday routine.

You started enjoying the mischievous side of him a lot more, coming to terms with a bit shady persona he has and the ‘businesses’ he seemed to have a never-ending amount of. Though, observing his actions closely, you’ve noticed that he’s never been outright cruel or backstabbing to people, or so you wanted to think to satisfy your goody-two-shoes persona. Sometimes you still nagged him over the things he’s done that seemed too much for your standards, so Sampo begrudgingly agreed with you time and time again to repair the damage he's done to some people.

Natasha’s been fuming when she returned home one day a bit earlier and saw Sampo in your bedroom, him managing to say only “Wooops” with a shrug of his shoulders. She’s never expected this outcome, especially with Sampo’s lessened visits and flirting with you at the clinic lately. So, you two ended up sitting in the living room and receiving a ‘parent talk’ from her.

Sampo’s almost weaseled his way from under Natasha’s scrutiny, but it was mostly due to your assurance that you’re an adult person responsible for your own actions and you’ve got everything under control.

Once busted, the rumors spread around the Underworld, you’ve started receiving all kinds of comments about your relationship, earning only exasperated groans from you. Though, you’ve been happy that you don’t need to hide anymore. Well…unless Sampo has been chased by Seele again, or hiding from some of the café’s patrons to whom he owed something, or haven’t finished Oleg’s errand in a long time…

But you like it, you love your boyfriend and how the things are never simple and boring with him. And, despite him being a total menace he has not stopped showing his love and appreciation for you for a single moment, always being sure to shower you with gifts and attention whenever he got back from his heists.