#on another note this is the closest i have come to a pen pal which is so remarkably fun it's something i've wanted to do for so long | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

averlym · 2 years

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hello omg this reply is so late i'm so sorry but

beiguang??????? beloveds?????? omg omg omg your fic is like. god-tier i love it omg omg the feels. the imagery. the metaphors fhdfhdfdhfdf

“i dislike losing what is mine,” she repeats, voice softer, “but i do not mind, once in a while, losing to you.”

aaaaaa????????? it's literally. i. screaming crying they are SO sweet i just. aAA ‘i am yours but also my own person’ BEST SHIP DYNAMICS HONESTLY

crying screaming the feels it's so tooth-rottingly fluffy omg

bro i would love to play liyue millenial. i want to play liyue millenial so badly you have no idea it's like. i need to play it. mihoyo drop the board game omg i would give them all my money for liyue millenial

it's like. it's my dream chess game. because i absolutely suck at chess and monopoly (omg ningguang basically invented monopoly didn't she) but games that mirror society?? are so beloved??

like. oh you checkmated my king but while you weren't looking the pawns overthrew the monarchy and live under a republic now. nice try. 5d chess vibes.

modern ning dominates 5 dimensional chess you can't change my mind

adgshjdsfhj but also. chess where halfway through the rules swap and suddenly the pawns are the most important part because viva la revolution. you have a set timer and when before half the time runs out, you have to grab the king. otherwise, when the halfway mark is reached the rules flip, the monarchy falls, and if someone has no more pawns, they lose. if both players have pawns the most important objective now is to remove all pawns before their revolution breaches country borders.

(my sister refuses to play chess with me because a) she's better than me and b) i keep instigating a prison break and she gets mad)

-🍵

beiguang is dignified fluff idk how else to put it they exude knowledgeable 大姐energy even though beidou is the more approachable one. big sister/ cool aunt vibes.

also yes!!! liyue millennial!!! i imagine like the pieces ninguang owns are like handcrafted wooded works of art in their own right and it's terrifying but also so cool and pretty :OOO

modern ningguang would be so good at any kind of strategy game i think. the real question here would probably be zhongli because is he going to do scary good because of mr god of war and contracts rex lapis??? or is he going to fail spectacularly because of mr funeral consultant with as much common sense as he has mora (none. the answer is none.)

i am so so terrible at chess but also that sounds hilariously fun. bestie! the chaos of that is so genius. also also, how do country borders work in chess?? i'm just imagining all the black squares are black territory and all the white squares are white territory. after the pawns take control, do all the other pieces except the king attempt to work against them? do the pawns turn against the nobles on their side attempting to get rid of them? do the nobles regardless of black or white work together as a whole to reinstate a king? (a pawn makes its way across the board, confused, and turns into a queen. it's queen, equally confused, just accepts the new queen as a spouse. alternatively, enemies to friends to lovers arc as they vie for queenship, with the new queen as leader of the revolution. no one else knows which queen is which because they look exactly the same, leading to some identity theft shenanigans. i'm overly invested in this subplot.)

speaking of games that mirror society i have never played it but dnd sounds quite fun

... jean related ficling under the cut? hurt/comfort vibes?? lowkey a character study?? here u go anyways? (i have written three fics in the past year and here is the last one)

a/n: au where signora is a bit more violent and venti protects mondstadt from her and saves his gnosis-but gets badly injured during the fight and dissipates into wind (he's recovering! elsewhere! it's just... thousand year naps where you come back mean that your mortal human friends have lost you for the remaining less than a century of their lives and you're essentially, well, dead.)

basically, the gnosis falls into jean's hands. temporary anemo archon/ acting grandmaster jean gunhildr adapts.

dandelions

jean, in the aftermath of becoming an archon.

vision holders, allogenes- they possess the power to ascend to celestia and become gods, like venessa's legend. but archons have no need for visions. as anemo archon, venti's vision was a fake glass ball, gifted to him by the anemo archon. himself.

when jean became an archon, as the gnosis became part of her, her eyes and hair glowed. her vision did not.

there is a funeral for venti the bard, held under the windrise tree, after all has been said and done. customary as it is to pass visions to family for safekeeping, the wind has no blood relatives, and a gray vision lies dull in the ground as they cover it with dirt, the body having dissipated into wind. the traveller lays some cecilias nearby, while jean places dandelions beside the grave. at her waist, a glass ball glows the same colour as the flowers.

buried that day is the anemo archon, and the gift he once gave her. what do you lose when you attain godhood? a vision. a gift from a god, now gone. a friend.

craving some semblance of normalcy, jean resumes her position as acting grandmaster, and just sort of lets the worship of the anemo archon continue as if it wasn't her.

perhaps this denial is unhealthy. jean buries herself in too much work to care. venti lost himself in songs and wine. she loses herself in helping the people of mondstadt. her people now.

in the disaster that strikes mondstadt, the statue is broken. jean remains the one that the citizens look to for advice, and following said advice, they rebuild the statue as it was before. resting under the hood with the traveller, perched on the reconstructed shoulders of barbatos, jean learns of the nameless bard. of how the shape venti took was to honour his friend.

maybe, in the quiet of her room, jean stands in front of a mirror with twin braids. the traveller showed her how to do them, murmuring something about getting to braid blond hair again. jean looks in the mirror, makes herself shorter, considers dying her hair dark until teal ends are the only bright parts left. then, she leaves for her office in her usual form, orders for rebuilding the statue of barbatos on the tip of her tongue.

she cannot, will not take the shape of venti and his long-dead friend, so she will just have to make sure their legacy carries on in a different way. in the water that surrounds the statue, jean glimpses her reflection, and she feels both guilty and relieved.

she chooses to leave the statues of the seven in the shape of venti. when she visits windrise, she sits by the statue and his grave and thinks about simpler times.

by the time the statue is built, mondstadt has settled down, and people are once again attempting to climb up the statue to blow dandelion seeds. jean doesn't mind, actually kind of likes the hopes and dreams of her people floating through her winds. it's a direct feedback loop to better take care of the citizens of mondstadt, probably better than the sheafs of paperwork reviews she sometimes has to go through.

the thing about being an archon is human needs are a bit less necessary now, so jean often finds herself fulfilling these dandelion wishes instead of sleeping.

this doesn't go unnoticed by the knights- one morning the wind floats fluffy seeds by her desk, and the dandelion knight stops writing to listen. amber's voice earnestly wishes that "jean remembers to take care of herself", and this becomes a daily occurrence, with kaeya's teasing, lisa's flirtatious threats, and klee's childish lisp flying on dandelion seeds. a smile in barbara's voice, and even an occasional reminder from a certain darknight hero. every morning, the winds whisper this into her ears, and jean loves her friends so so much, loves this city so much, that she sometimes forgets the anxiety that came when venti pushed his gnosis into her hands.

at night, when the city is asleep, jean sits in the palms of the statue, feeling held and feeling small and pondering immortality. how mortal venti was, how immortal he was. the absentee god who led their city to freedom, a wind spirit who took the shape of his lost friend, and- the bard who sung in front of his statue, who mimicked paimon, who tried to scam diluc of wine and would accept payment in apples. so very human.

jean feels a quiet sort of sadness, reconciling the image of the anemo archon who gave her her vision and the happy-go-lucky bard who was her friend. sitting in the palms of this statue is the closest thing she'll ever have to being near venti again. she looks up at the giant face, and then looks down below to where a young bard would have been strumming his lyre.

if the traveller notices the anemo archon using the winds to carry her high enough to hug the statue of the seven at windrise, it's never mentioned to jean.

#i am full of emotions about genshin characters sue me #specifically venti angst and the healing process and uGH idk healing process in stories make me feel a lot #the bittersweet of it all yknow #maybe it's because of some inherent want to get to that point of tenuous okayness because sometimes it seems lacking in my life #that is also why encanto's ending hit so hard i think. coming together to rebuild casita and dealing w the stress and gifts and all that #will i ever post fics on ao3 or any platform other than my tumblr dash? probably not ever #so they will just poof into the space here #teanon i think this is mainly because of your compliments on my writing HAHA #on another note this is the closest i have come to a pen pal which is so remarkably fun it's something i've wanted to do for so long #mkay that's all i have rn me thinks #byeee #ask me stuff???#oH as a quick elaboration on the silly little vision hc: when someone becomes an archon their vision goes dark.#so jean is currently carrying venti's fake one in this au #burying her old vision at windrise where it functions as burying venti because the general populace i suppose assumes is his vision #but also it represents him as the archon who gave it to her #and since it's jean's old vision it's like she's burying a version of her old self there as she becomes an archon #that's what's up about this scene

10 notes · View notes

pleasantanathema · 4 years

Text

Invasive Species

Pairing: Hawks x Fem Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Yandere, Dubious Non/Con, Stalking, Possessive Actions

Word Count: 7.7k

A/N:This is a part of the bnharem pen pals collab that can be found here! Please check out everyone else’s amazing work for this very unique smutty collaboration.

The noise was so faint, a gentle peck against the glass, the sound muffled by the mild summer breeze, that you hadn’t heard it. And so, the paper became lifeless, drifting down onto the floor to rest until you found it. You were startled when you saw it—a blood red feather, with a crisp, folded note tied to it, lying in your floor, the feather ruffling in the wind from the open window. Your heart pounded in your chest. You had seen feathers like that before, felt them against your skin and in your hair as a winged hero carried you to safety from a burning building just yesterday. But you’d been one of many, he saved so many people, yet he left a feather for you?

You’ll always be safe with me around.

–Hawks

You smiled at his writing, finding it to be much neater and prettier than you expected from a man in his twenties. What a kind, considerate hero to send you such an endearing promise. No wonder he topped the popularity polls, you mused, sitting on your bed and re-reading the little note. You tapped the feather against your lips, twirling it between your fingers. You remembered how he was able to control the nimble things, sending feathers zipping across the sky to pull people by their collars and the back of their shirts to safety. Surely he would want it back, right? You felt it twitch within your hand as if it could read your mind.

Quickly, you searched your desk, ripping at a piece of paper to create a slip similar to the size of his note. You took a breath before writing, not wanting your handwriting to seem unsteady or nervous. You wondered if anyone ever wrote him back, or if people kept his feathers like trophies.

Thank you, Hawks. I’m grateful that someone will be watching after me.

You signed your name in the bottom corner.

The crimson feather darted away when you placed it on your window sill, jumping like it was alive. It carried your note back to waiting hands and a cheeky smile, to a man only a few rooftops away. Avian eyes narrowed and darkened at your innocent words.

You didn’t realize it at the time, but your message was an invitation to a very dangerous game.

The next little letter came about a week later, long after the sun had set and your eyes were heavy. The quill against the glass spooked you, the sound reminiscent of sharp nails tapping to get your attention. You opened the window and the feather fluttered past your cheek, landing perfectly in the middle of your desk like it belonged there. You rubbed your eyes as you sat down to read it, flicking on the dim light that you had just turned off to go to sleep.

You couldn’t help the way you smiled when you saw that this letter was personally addressed to you.

Sorry for making you wait so long. I’m not used to writing letters. But your handwriting is so pretty, I thought I could implore you for another? Please tell me something about you.

–Hawks

You blinked at the paper, thumbs crinkling the edges. There was something about the letter that made your heart thump a little harder in your chest, blood racing in your veins. You realized that you were not one of many to receive an assuring note from the hero; no, you had been sought out by him, plucked and singled out of the crowd. Hawks had remembered you in particular. A small bit of adrenaline kicked into your system as you picked up your pen.

This is going to sound like I’m trying to be sweet on you, but I’ve actually always loved birds. My favorite are the pretty red song birds that I hear outside my windows in the evening.

There was a compulsion for you to keep this response letter a little longer. You mulled it over, hoping he wouldn’t get the wrong idea. You weren’t lying, those cute little song birds did bring you joy, but there was a tinge in your heart to impress him, to make him smile as he read your letter.

And as quick as the feather flew in, it flew away, a red streak across the star speckled sky. You finally curled up in bed, a concoction of excitement and content brewing in your chest. You held your pillow a little closer, dreaming of the brush of soft wings against your skin.

But those wings were dark, casting shadows in the moonlight, now only a single rooftop away from you. Hawks held your letter in his hand, golden gaze locked onto the color of your curtains. He wondered if you’d ever become privy enough to shut them.

He read your words over and over again, smiling at how coy you were. He knew you were clever, but he didn’t expect you to be so daring. He brushed his hair behind his ear, pressing the small scrap of paper to his nose, trying to get a hint of the sweetness he had smelled in your hair when he plucked you from that building. You were so darling in his arms; he loved how you clung to him, small hands around his neck like you would collapse without him, even when he had you safe on the ground.

The letter in his hand felt like the key into your life, and all too quickly he found himself writing back to you. And in the depths of the night, this particular letter and feather were hand delivered by the pretty bird from outside your window, though you’d never know it.

___________________________________________________________

You found the letter tucked neatly into the corner of your window, the one closest to your bed. It had been the first thing your eyes focused on as you awoke, the crimson barbs of the feather gleaming in the early morning light. You laid in the comfort of your warm bed for a few moments just gazing at the sight, sleepy mind trying to piece together how and why the winged hero had taken an interest in you. He was so handsome, so popular, so tantalizing in a curious way.

The summer breeze was warm even so early in the day. You left the window open to allow a current of fresh air in, settling back into your pillows as you unfolded the note.

I suppose liking birds is something we have in common. Those pretty red song birds outside your window are actually cardinals…an invasive species in Japan, but pretty nonetheless.

P.S. Perhaps I could soon become your favorite red bird.

–Hawks

You read it a few times, worrying your lip as your eyes raked over every word. There was something to be read between the lines, only you worried you weren’t finding the hidden meaning. Why mention that the birds were invasive species? It made them sound impish and not as lovely knowing they weren’t really supposed to be there. Yet their morning calls were beautiful, melodic, a comfort to your ears from the open window. And was Hawks…flirting with you? His post script seemed so playful and nonchalant, and reading it had your cheeks turning pink.

You busied yourself with your morning routine as you debated how to reply. You didn’t know Hawks, you didn’t even know how he found out where you lived, and yet he was flirting with you so offhandedly, like he expected you to return his dalliances. Had he come early this morning before starting his hero work? Or did he work at night, and sent a feather before returning home? There was so little that you knew about him that it made you nervous to be stepping into such an unknown situation, but surely it didn’t mean much to him. You were a little nobody; he was the number two hero.

Even still, in a way, it felt so romantic, finding hand written letters from him, like you were out of time, floating in a midsummer bliss. But it also felt disquieting, like you were stepping out into a vast, unknown ocean.

You sat down to write to him before you left to begin your day. The feather in your hand was so light, so soft, and you gently stroked your thumb over the barbs, watching them split apart and then find one another again. The hollow shaft seemed to quake in response. You were reminded of how every feather appeared to be alive, controlled by their far-off master. They were so sensitive to every touch, every gust of wind. You dipped your finger against the edge, watching the alluring color bleed against your skin.

Can you feel what your feathers feel, Hawks?

And you set the feather free once again, having to block the sun from your eyes as you watched it dance away, note dangling from a long forgotten ribbon you had found in your drawer.

But soon, you forgot about it, carried away by the daily musings of your life.

______________________________________________________________

As for Hawks, he thought about it all day, carried your little note in his pocket as he attended to his heroic duties across the city. The image of your window, of your little home where it was tucked away, always remained in the back of his mind. He was itching to go back to the rooftop from where he watched you; he wanted to see your reaction as you opened his letter, watch you ponder how to respond. He was quickly becoming addicted to you, to watching you when you least expected it.

He had perfectly crafted his response by the end of his day, broad wings hurrying him to his favorite resting spot. Your city apartment was so high up, no one from below could dream of looking up to see you. But he could see you, he had scouted the best from which to watch you. He was just high enough where you couldn’t peer back at him, the perfect perch for a predator to watch his prey. From the neighboring rooftop he could see the entirety of your bedroom. It was like a painting on the wall of a museum, wonderfully on display for him to admire, especially when you came home.

He rested his cheek in his palm as he watched you come in your bedroom door. He could practically hear you sigh as you dropped your bag, stretching your arms above your head to rid yourself of the small tensions your day had brought you. And this was his favorite part—you quickly shimmied out of your pants, a little dance as you bounced back and forth on your heels, pulling one leg up and then the other. You then bent over and pulled your favorite pair of soft shorts from the floor, having unceremoniously dropped them there the night before. You looked so good in those, he mused, the cozy fabric stretched so snugly upon your hips, curving just right across your backside.

He waited for you to get comfortable, then plucked a feather from his wings, tying his note to it with the ribbon you’d sent out this morning. He grinned at how you jumped when the feather flew through the crack in your window. He made a little show of having it swirl around you before landing it on your desk.

I can feel everything that my feathers touch—the wind, water, sound vibrations, they’re a part of me. You should give this one a kiss before you send it back.

The name’s Keigo, by the way. Takami Keigo.

Did you always blush like that when you opened his letters? He watched you stand up and pace around, thumb between your pretty lips, lost in thought. Soon you grabbed the note again, plopping on the edge of your bed to read it over. Your legs crossed and uncrossed, a smile finally pulling at your cheeks. He watched with delight as you picked up the feather, tingles immediately spreading across his skin at the feel of your fingers.

He groaned as you brushed your fingertips over the barbs. He pulled at his tinted eyewear, bringing them to rest upon his head so he could watch you more closely. A lock of hair twisted around his finger as he anxiously waited for you to do as he asked, to kiss his feather, to let him have a fleeting moment where he felt the ghost of your lips upon his skin.

But you didn’t, you just kept stroking the long red feather, teasing him. His brows furrowed as you stopped, watching you sit the feather back on your desk, along with his note. How could you…how could you not respond to him right away? Why not give him what he desired?

Hawks watched in disbelief as you sauntered out of your bedroom into another part of your little home.

He waited for what felt like hours for you to come back. He should’ve left when the sun went down, he chided himself, bringing his wings closer to his body. Autumn was in the wind. He had almost left, was even picking himself up and shoving his hands into his pockets when your room lit up like a beacon calling him back. So he settled back into his spot, golden eyes watching your every move.

His breath caught in his throat when you began to shed your clothes—all of them. He’d watched you for over a week now, and finally you were fully naked before him. You looked ethereal with the dim light of your room spilling over your curves, every single line of your body on display. He found himself sitting up straighter, perched on the balls of his feet like at any moment he was going to leap into your arms.

Were you…? Oh fuck, you were walking to your desk, sitting down and taking a pen into your hand. Instantly he was hard, fingers encircling his cock with a death grip as you picked up the feather, his feather, and admired it for a moment. He could feel your breath blowing against the soft barbs, the warmth spreading over him like a blanket from the breeze. But you sat it down, electing to instead write him back, treating him to the lovely sight of your naked back arched over your desk, the elegant sinews of your shoulders on exhibit.

And then you were in your window, your naked body so temptingly close. He wanted to reach out and touch you, to feel the weight of your breasts within his palms.

As soon as he felt the wind blowing against the feather, he pulled it back to him. He always knew when it was your feather returning to him, even when he couldn’t see it. He could sense the heft of the paper tied to it, pulling at the feather like it wanted to sink to the ground. He even recognized the tenderness in your touch, felt how you always twisted the feather between your fingers.

You’re cheeky, Keigo. A kiss? I hardly know you. Maybe one day.

He scoffed at your words, folding the note back into its creases. Your light flickered off, the moonlight the only illumination for him to gaze into your little world. He watched you climb onto your bed, expecting you to curl up in your favorite spot and drift away into your dreams.

He was very happily mistaken.

Your hands were on your body, one cupping your breast, the other slipping into your mouth. He stroked his cock through his pants at the sight, eyes wide and ravenous as he watched the scene unfold before him. You were slow, thorough, taking your time running your hand over your curves, twisting at your nipples. Your fingers left your mouth and traveled south, to another pair of lips he had yet to see. You spread your legs, teasing yourself as your head dipped back against the pillow.

Hawks was desperately moving his head, angling his body to try to see what sweetness was waiting for him between your legs. But your thigh was in the way, blocking his view, and he huffed indignantly as he unzipped his cargo pants. His cock was achingly hot as he released it, the night air bringing a refreshing chill to his scorching skin. He wrapped his hand a little too firmly around himself, closing his eyes for only a brief moment to imagine how tight you’d be around his cock.

Your face was awash with pleasure, lips hanging open. He silently vowed to etch that look upon your face himself.He watched you intently, memorizing every movement, every place that you touched yourself. He could’ve observed you for hours, if it wasn’t for his unrelenting need to orgasm. He pumped himself to the paces you set, alternating between fast and slow, wanting to cum the moment you did. But the moment he saw your back arch, his keen hearing picking up on a high pitched moan through the window, he lost control, spilling himself all over his hand and down the front of his shirt, dripping onto his pants.

He’d been so caught up in his own ecstasy that he missed yours. He only saw you in the afterglow, your curves sinking into the mattress as sleep overcame you.

He wrote you a quick letter, leaving it wedged against your window sill. He took a moment to admire you up close, hand pressing to the glass to steady the silent flapping of his wings.

___________________________________________________________

But I know you.

There was no signature to the note, only large fingerprints upon your window.

They were like little specters, ghastly against the morning dew.

Your stomach dropped at the sight, dread bubbling to the surface. He had hand delivered this note, had been at your window, had seen you at some time in the night. You pulled your sheets to your chest, recalling that you’d fallen asleep on your comforter naked last night, only waking in the early hours of dawn to finally crawl under the covers. Had he seen you? Is that what he meant?

He reminded you of Hermes, a winged protector of humans, but a trickster god nonetheless, flittering around the country with a bright smile and witty banter, but perhaps something darker in his heart. Maybe he was worse than Hermes, maybe more dreadful, more sinful. For a while there had been something nagging at you, pulling at the strings of your intuition and whispering danger. But now…now that feeling had blossomed into fear.

You decided you had indulged the winged hero enough. There was no need to reply. Any romance you had felt from the actions withered away, dying out like a flower left in the sun.

You started to close your curtains when you came home most days, just in case.

Weeks went by, and autumn came. The cardinals stopped singing, with no other red feathers or letters in sight.

But sometimes you could hear rustling outside, see familiar shadows pass by.

He was on your television screen, too, newsfeeds obsessed with the most popular hero. He was always being praised for saving more people, for helping rescue and clean up after a disaster. He was darling on the screen, blonde hair always slightly a mess from flying. He seemed so handsome, so harmless, but you could see the glint in his eyes. He was something wicked, something enticing, and you hated that you had thought about him every day since his last letter.

The morning you found his note, you had thrown the paper in the trash, and thrown the feather back out the window. But by evening, it had fluttered back, red and sweet like a rose growing against the glass. You’d left it there, hoping the wind would take it away, but days went by and it was still hanging on, a reminder of his presence. A storm was on the horizon when you relented and took the feather in. There was something inside of you that couldn’t bear to see the cherry colored barbs wilt in the rain.

You tucked it away in your desk drawer, not as a reminder, but to just to get it out of sight. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Some of your nights were restless, plagued with thoughts of him, of Keigo Takami peeking into your window, of his plush wings against your skin.

____________________________________________________________

It was after an especially long, grueling day, that you gave in to your repressed thoughts.

You stood at the foot of your bed, ready to climb in, when some unknown force had you turning on your heels. It was like your hands had a mind of their own, pulling open the drawer and plucking the crimson feather from its resting place. You twirled it before you, nostalgia creeping across your skin as you remembered how the feathers used to look in the summer sky.

The feather felt like red silk upon your lips when you kissed it. You wondered if he could still feel it, after all these months.

You laughed at the inane thought, kicking off your shorts as you finally found your way into bed. You gazed up at the ceiling, counting the moonbeams that had slithered in through the cracks in the curtains. You hadn’t closed them all the way, but you rarely did anymore.

You sighed, closing your eyes and trying to imagine yourself somewhere else. Your fingers drifted down to the hem of your underwear, toying with the edges. You thought of strong arms around you, thick hands in place of your own. You thought of a new hero you had read about earlier, some young, recently graduated young buck from a hero program. You bit into your lip as you tried to recall his name. All you could remember were wild plumes of purple hair, which looked so luscious and soft in the online videos. You tried to imagine him, or someone like him, at least, pressing themselves between your legs.

Your fingers rubbed lazy circles on your clit, warming your body up. But you couldn’t stay focused on one thought, the problems of your day tiptoeing back into your conscious as you tried to pleasure yourself. Your other hand slipped under your big t-shirt, tugging rather roughly at your nipple as you tried to bring yourself back into a different headspace. You increased the speed of your fingers, only to find yourself panting in dissatisfaction at your actions.

“Fuck,” you called in frustration to the darkness.

“Seems like you need some help, little bird.”

You had never expected the darkness to call back.

Your whole body stilled, going completely numb as you opened your eyes.

Hawks stood near your desk, absentmindedly fiddling with the feather you’d left on its surface. The window was open, curtains billowing and brushing against dark wings that eclipsed the moonlight. You felt like the shadows his wings cast were smothering you, sinking around your lungs like an inky vice, keeping your voice trapped within your chest.

He had the audacity to smile at you. His hands were deep in his pockets, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt that looked haphazardly thrown upon his shoulders. You wanted to run away, but you felt glued to the bed, beguiled by smoldering golden eyes as he approached.

“I know what you like, you know. Watched you do it so many times now.”

You braced yourself against the bed, the sheets slipping down as you crawled back, gaze transfixed on the predator placing his knees on the downy comforter. He was so quick, grabbing your leg and pulling you towards him. His smile never wavered as he pressed a wet kiss to your ankle, tongue sneaking out to catch a taste of your skin. You whimpered at his words, tongue too heavy in your mouth to form ones of your own.

“Cat got your tongue? Come on, I want to hear that pretty voice. Say the magic word, and I’ll be happy to help you out.”

It was like you were engulfed by his presence. The air smelled like him as he spread his wings, gently ruffling them before settling them back down to his sides. He smelled like rain, felt like a raging storm from above you, all dark clouds and lightning as his quick fingers started to move up your calves, keeping your legs spread to accommodate him upon the bed.

“N-no.”

Your voice was weak, just a hot gasp of breath into the room.

“You sure about that, baby? I promise I know exactly how to touch you.”

To prove his point, a hurried hand wrapped around your hip, thumb slipping under the fabric of your underwear to skim across your hip bone. You shuttered, his touch was too warm, feeling like he was burning his thumbprint into your skin. But it felt good, the pressure behind the digit so firm, making you feel so real against your body’s borders, feel alive at the jolt of pleasure that ran down your spine.

But with his body hovering above yours, it felt like there was a heavy weight falling onto your chest, pushing you down, down, down, deep into the mattress and holding you hostage. You wanted to push him away, to scream, to pull at his wings until it hurt him. But you were quiet, frozen in place, entranced by golden curls in the moonlight. And he knew it too.

“I’m going to show you everything I’ve learned by watching you,” his head dipped down, smile hanging just above your face, “and show you a few new things I know you’ll love.”

“Hawks,” you breathed out, hands finally moving and finding purchase against his chest. You wanted your tone to sound berating, angry, but instead your voice sounded pleading.

The brush of his lips against yours was so delicate, a penumbra against supple flesh.

“Keigo,” he corrected, the syllables of his name pressing into your lips.

He drank you in with a heavy groan, kissing you like a man starved for touch. You couldn’t close your eyes, too shocked at the sudden intrusion. Just moments ago you were dreaming of a man between your legs, and now one was here, he was real, eyes shut as he moved his lips against yours. Your sight was blurred by forming tears, your vision focused on the black lines that adorned his eyes. They were so beautiful, so stark against his soft skin, a reminder of how truly avian he was; a reminder of his primordial instincts.

The hand on your hip drew your body up into his, fingers now gripping at your ass with bruising strength. Your mouth fell agape at the stinging pain of his roughness, allowing his hot tongue to slip between your lips. You fisted his shirt, trying to push him away, only to be met with lithe muscles straining underneath the fabric. You were reminded that he might be slender, but he was still a trained fighter, the number two hero, and he could do anything he liked to you.

He was brash, eager, desperate to finally touch you. His kiss was sloppy and wet, full of hearty groans as his hips bucked against your own. Your eyes finally shut, mind trying to picture someone else above you, someone who didn’t stalk you, scare you, but yet you could only imagine him. His presence was suffocating, his smell saccharine, the brush of his fluttering wings addictive.

“I knew you kept my feather,” he panted against your lips, his head dipping to your neck where he pressed open mouthed kisses to your beating pulse, “I knew you’d call out for me.”

“Hawks, no, that’s not what I was—”

He forcefully sucked at your neck, the sharp pain silencing you.

“Keigo,” he reprimanded against your skin, “come on, you didn’t miss me? Not even a little?”

“How can I miss you when I know you’re always there?”

He chuckled, sitting back and plucking your hands from their tight grip against his shirt. He held a wrist in each hand, settling them on either side of your face, pinning you down under his strong arms.

“I wanted to write you so many more letters, but I was worried that you’d throw them away.”

“I would have.” You sneered, wiggling in his grip.

“But why? I told you that you’d always be safe with me around, little bird.”

“You’re stalking me, Hawks—”

The grip on your wrists tightened, his thick fingers crushing the delicate bones, a warning.

“I’m watching over you.”

He gradually removed his hands from your wrists, the movement slow, steady, his keen eyes watching to see if you would react. Your skin was throbbing, bones aching from his relentless grasp. You didn’t move.

“And look at how I found you, baby, so desperate for help.”

His fingers pressed between your legs, rubbing against your clothed sex. Pleasure ran through your veins like a shock wave, your legs instinctively closing around his forearm. He sat back on his knees, marveling over how your body reacted to such a simple touch. He moved a little faster, a little harder, middle finger pressed firmly against your slit. He daringly pressed in, the fabric of your underwear keeling at his actions, sinking inside of you.

“Fuck, you’re so wet already, is this all for me?”

You could only shake your head no, too stunned to open your mouth to speak. He smirked, running his other hand through his hair, whistling at the vexing sight before him. For so many nights he’d wanted to be right here, in your bed, your thighs spread across his own as he touched you, toyed with you, proved to you that he could please you.

He kept his hand on your pussy, using the other to lift up your shirt, fingers searing across your belly. They kept moving upwards, pushing your shirt away to reveal your breasts. He licked his lips at the sight, fingers itching to pull at your nipples.

“Say the magic word,” his voice was lower now, more sinister, “say it, and I’ll touch you how you like.”

Did you even have a choice?

His hands were perfectly still, like he was a man stopped in time. You blinked at him, once, twice, wondering how something so beautiful could be so nefarious. He looked like a fallen angel, like his feathers had been dipped in blood and he was going to paint you with them. Your heart rate slowed, any adrenaline you had to fight beginning to flush from your veins. Your pussy was aching, the tip of his finger stretching you just enough to make you want more.

“Please.”

His eyes snapped to you, black pupils narrowed.

“A little louder,” he commanded, “and say my name.”

You swallowed, tongue wetting your lips. Your fingers dug into the sheets, still next to your face where he had left them. You were sweating, overcome with the feeling of your naked chest heaving with shaky breaths.

“Please…Keigo.”

The dam broke, sensations flooding over you as he moved freely over your body. Your shirt was gone in an instant, your torso thumping back to the bed before you even realized he had ripped the material over your head. His shirt was gone, too, being shimmied over his wings and tossed into the floor. He was so quick, nimble fingers ridding you of your panties in the blink of an eye. And then he was on you, two fingers sunk deep into your pussy before you could even think to breathe.

You cried out, body arching as he pumped the digits into you at high velocity, your slick walls clenching. You felt his flaxen hair tickle your chest as his warm mouth sucked one of your nipples into the wet cavern, tongue shamelessly flicking over the hardening bud. Fuck, he felt so good, so warm, so real against your body, so much better than your own hands.

His teeth pulled at your nipple, white hot heat surging through your body in response.

“Keigo!” You scolded, but your voice was so high pitched, so laden with lust, that he mistook it for praise.

He continued to nip at your breast, fingers still plunging in and out of your pussy, the sounds lewd to your ears. His pace was wild and excited, making your skin tingle from all the attention. He sucked at your nipple, releasing the bud with a wet pop, a string of saliva still connecting his flushed lips to your darkening skin. He nuzzled his face to the underside of your breast, leaving you gasping as he sucked and nipped at the sensitive skin, nose pressing into the fleshy mound.

His fingers slowed as he sat back to look over your writhing body. He smirked, curling his fingers just right, pads brushing against the soft, flat place buried deep inside of you.

His free hand encircled your jaw, pursing your lips.

“Watch me, little bird.”

You nodded in his grip, keeping your eyes on his as he came to lay between your thighs. He draped one leg across his shoulder, allowing him to angle his head as he pressed a kiss to your clit. You moaned wantonly, worrying your lip between your teeth as you watched him. He was smiling at you, warm golden eyes hypnotizing you to keep observing. He was ready to put on a show, to let you see how observant he was, how he knew your body like the back of his hand without ever touching you before now.

The way he licked at your clit was intoxicating, little hot swirls with the tip, then heavy strokes with a flat tongue, alternating just how you liked. That sizzling coil inside your belly began to tighten. He was moaning against your wet flesh, the vibrations tingling down your pussy lips. He was enjoying himself, savoring you like an expensive meal he’d waited ages to try. His fingers kept in pace with his mouth, stroking you just right, strumming you like the devil would his fiddle within his hands.

He then employed a trick he learned from watching you. With his other hand, he spread your labia, exposing your sensitive clit even more to his hungry mouth. You shivered at the onslaught of pleasure, body so hot you felt like you could burst into flames, melt into the bed, die a little death. You whimpered, still wholly spellbound by the vision between your legs. Hawks’ wings seemed to shutter with every moan you made, the red plumage highly attuned to every sound, every move of your body.

Every touch, every lick, was so sinful and wicked. You tried to remind yourself that you didn’t want this, that Hawks was dangerous, that he had stalked you for weeks and could only tempt you so expertly because he watched you through your windows. But he was so beautiful, so devilishly divine between your legs, hot tongue swirling figure eights against your clit, fingers beckoning you to come undone.

“You like this.” He said it between long licks, fingers beginning a new, more ruthless pace inside of you.

A string of curses left your lips, your thighs beginning to quiver against his shoulders.

“No, no, please no,” you said the words to yourself, the pleasure he was creating becoming unbearable between your legs. He continued to lap against your folds, fingers spreading you wider, keeping you open and unprotected for him. He knew you were close, could feel your walls tightening. He added a third finger just to be cruel, to watch you shrink against the sheets as your back arched for him.

“Cum on my face, baby, I know you’ve thought about it before.”

To your shame, you absolutely shattered around him at his words, your pussy spasming, your orgasm flooding all of your senses. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, like you were blissfully pinned down by his feathers, asphyxiated by his overbearing presence within your room, within your body. He stopped his ministrations, electing to watch you unfold for him from between your legs, eyes brighter than ever before. He could see the muscles within your lower stomach contracting, could feel your orgasm upon his fingers, slick coating them in gentle waves, all for him. The sight was more glorious than he ever imagined, the girl of his dreams cumming all over his fingers, all over his mouth, your sweetness flooding over him.

He didn’t allow you time to breath, time to bask in the afterglow of your orgasm. He quickly pulled you into his arms, sitting you in his lap, greedily kissing your lips.

“Keigo,” you whined, pressing against his chest, trying to find a moment to breathe.

“Fuck, I love the way you say my name,” his lips were relentless, seeking yours out every time you broke away, head following you like a moth would a flame, “keep saying it, baby.”

“Keigo, get out.” You growled, threading your fingers through his hair and jerking his head away. You kept him at bay, keeping a steady pull on his blonde locks.

“Oh no, I’m not done with you.”

His eyes were so dark, his cock so hard between your dripping legs.

He was the devil, Lucifer himself, the wayward angel staring at you, waiting to devour you. And you, you summoned him.

There was no incantation that could contain him or send him away. His arms tightened around your back, one hand pulling you into him by your shoulder, the other hastily pulling himself from his pants.

“See what you do to me, little bird,” he took your hand and wrapped it around his cock, big hand using your smaller one to stroke his length, “I’m always so hard for you.”

You couldn’t help the shameless moan that tumbled from your mouth. His cock was silky smooth against your fingers, throbbing and hot, far too hot, and slick from his own pre-cum. You didn’t protest as he used your palm for his pleasure, a sly grin upon his cheeks as he felt you become complacent in his lap.

“Haw—”

The hand on your shoulder was swiftly upon your face, two fingers that tasted like your pussy invading your mouth to silence you.

“When you’re with me, you call me by my name.”

You nodded softly, eyes shifting across the planes of his face, attempting to read his serious expression. He continued to run your hand upon his length, guiding you to squeeze his swollen tip, thumb petting the underside of his cock. His thumb hooked in your cheek, not so gently tugging at the elastic flesh, studying how you let him touch you. He skated his fingers across your tongue, hoping to feel the wet muscle react to him.

“Keigo,” you mumbled against his fingers, the sound like manna from heaven to his ears.

“Good girl,” he cooed, feathers ruffling as he pushed you back onto the pillows.

You laid before him again, limbs heavy and with the ghost of his fingers still in your open mouth. He looked like a god as he towered above you, wings spreading wide as if to parade their otherworldly beauty before you.

Then you felt the weight of his hips between your legs, the press of his chest against your own, the prickle of his facial hair against your neck as he settled himself there. His hands were on you again, precipitous and heedless against your curves, twisting and pulling at your flesh to bend one leg back, hook the other around his waist.

His cock nudged at your wet heat, one of his hands guiding him inside of you, the stretch simultaneously delightful and dreadful. Protest was on your tongue, you could taste the words, feel your gut instinct to use your curled leg to kick him away. But your arms welcomed him, encircling his shoulders as you moaned for him. Your head tipped back against the pillow and he took the opportunity to latch on to you again. His tongue lapped at the sore spot he had created earlier with his mouth, tasting the saltiness of sweat upon your skin.

“You feel so good around my cock,” he groaned, hips beginning to snap into you. Your nails dug into his shoulders, his feathers brushing against your knuckles as he moved within you. You felt so full, so entirely encompassed by him, enraptured by the sweetest devil.

All your movements felt coerced, like your body was following his lead against your will. Your hips began to match his thrusts, bucking up into him in order to feel his thick cock fall deeper into you. His strong hands encouraged you, gripping into the supple flesh of your thighs as he pressed himself into your wetness, faster and faster with every thrust.

You kept your eyes open for a moment, entranced by the exquisite scene above you. Keigo felt unhinged, electric against you, golden curls bouncing upon his head, red feathers dancing upon his back. But his face was smooth, pretty, cheeks dusky with a dark blush as he found euphoria from within your body. One of your hands trailed up to the back of his neck, weaving within his hair. His eyes fluttered open to see you, signature grin returning as he felt your touch, his hips rocking a little harder to reward you.

“Tell me how it feels to have me inside of you.”

You closed your eyes then, focusing on how effortlessly his cock glided within you. Each thrust was hasty and rough, skin slapping against skin as his cock buried itself deep within your gut. He curved just perfectly inside you, cockhead delightfully brushing against the sensitive flesh of your walls with every plunge of his hips. His hands were splayed across your hips, one dangerously close to your clit, as if teasing you.

“Fuck,” you hissed, recognizing the buildup to orgasm pooling within your belly, “you feel so good.”

A bawdy sound left his throat at your words, like he’d died upon hearing them.

One of his hands slid higher upon your body, fingers lacing around your ribcage, framing the underside of your breast. He began to forcefully pull your body into his, sliding you upon and down the sheets and upon his cock. You cried out, leg tightening at his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, begging him to devour you and take what he wanted.

“That’s right, little bird, I’m going to make you cum on my cock.”

Your breasts were bouncing against his chest, your nails leaving indents upon his skin, his mouth back to sucking at your neck.

“And then I’m going to cum in you, make you mine.”

You were too lost to care, every nerve under your skin desperate for his touch. His thumb glided wickedly against your clit, fanning the hellish flames of your ecstasy even hotter and higher than before. A shriek of pleasure erupted from your chest, the hand upon his head bringing him closer to you, crashing your lips together as tears gleamed in your lashes. His cock was hammering into you so ruthlessly, your clit feeling abused from his too-quick thumb.

You were coming undone too quickly and too soon, your body feeling like threads being ripped apart at the seams. He grunted into your mouth, your tongue finally coming to play against his own, battling against him as you wrestled within yourself not to cum for him again so soon. But every stroke of his cock brought a fresh burst of pleasure blooming across your body, and you were so close, so fucking close to falling off the edge.

“Say my name,” he demanded against your lips, “say my name when you cum.”

There was no reason for you to comply, you weren’t his, he didn’t own you, but everything inside of you ached to appease him, and your mouth moved on its own accord.

“K-Keigo,” you stumbled, feeling yourself climbing the orgasmic ladder, every harsh thrust of cock leading you up another rung. His arm wrapped around your back, pressing you up against him in a hectic embrace. Your face settled against his shoulder, your fingers tightening in his hair, the others drawing blood upon his back. He only purred at the pain, so determined to bring you to release that he paid it no mind. His thumb rubbed tirelessly at your swollen clit, moving it in harmony with his cock.

Suddenly your moans stopped, the air being knocked from your lungs as pure ecstasy approached again.

And then the world felt too quiet, your mind hazing over as you cried out in melodic moans, your inner walls clenching and unclenching so deliciously tight against his thick cock as you came for him. You could feel the heavy weight of him inside of you, still plunging into your depths as he sought his own release. Your fingers relaxed against his skin, feeling like you were sinking and he was the only thing keeping you safe from the fall.

“Keigo,” it was a whisper, the barest hint of sound against his ear. But he felt, heard it, and it had him tumbling over the orgasmic edge with a roar of your name. Hot ropes of cum filled your body, his hard cock twitching against your walls.

“Fuck you’re mine, all mine.”

He murmured it against your hair, both arms now wrapping around your body. You laid there, motionless in his arms, heart pounding within your ear drums. Reality came crashing down far slower than your orgasm had, but still the consequences of your actions felt weightier against your body than the man above you.

He fell to his side next to you. But he wasn’t gone, far from it, as his hands were back on your body. One trailed across your cheek, the other dabbled between your legs, toying with his cum that leaked from within you.

He smirked, eyes catching yours, “and now you’re mine, my perfect little bird.”

You were too tired to fight back, lids heavy as he held you against his warmth, the fierce wings of an invasive species draped across your naked flesh.

#hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x you #keigo takami x reader #keigo tamaki #my hero academia #bnha #collab #hawks smut #yandere hawks #yandere #yandere keigo takami

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magiefish · 4 years

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hhhhhhhhhh guess who drew all the batim characters in prep for the comic they’re making!

yeah so it took like 4 days to draw all these guys, and it was actually pretty fun figuring out colours and designs and stuff!

(also, update on the Reveries Twisted comic, I have a plan for the first chapter but i have like, 7 tests next week and I haven’t started drawing it yet so it’s definitely not going to be coming out anytime soon sdfgsdfsj but i am still working on it!)

anyway, i felt like writing little descriptions for every character, so feel free to read these below the ‘keep reading’ line if you feel like it! My ask box is also always open, so if u have any questions feel free to ask

Bertrum Piedmont-he/him, gay/ace

-Started working as a mechanic at about 15 and worked his way up from there -Everyone in the studio @ him: why are u british -His big ego often gets in the way of things, but at his core he's a good person (doing bad shit but ultimately having good intentions is common among these guys shdgfs) -Wlw & mlm solidarity w/ Lacie, who is his most trusted confidant and friend -Actually treats his employees well, even when they do basically nothing all day, so he does a lot of work himself most of the time Linda Stein-she/her, straight as a ruler -Parents immigrated from Spain -She's very catholic and very into 'traditional family values' and that sort of stuff -She is sweet, but her strict morals and black and white ethics often make her do unintentional harm -She is also pretty oblivious to most things Jack Fain-he/him & they/them, pan/ace, OCD -Mother immigrated from China to France, and then he moved to America, it's confusing -Can play the violin really well, but is terrible at composing his own pieces -Peak friend material -Short and round and soft with a love of a good espresso -Kind and quiet but ultimately ineffective and happy to watch from the sidelines Daniel 'Buddy' Lewek-he/him, aro/ace, autistic, jewish -He is curious and observant, but very very naive -He finds it hard to pick up on social cues, and tends to daydream a lot -Never really had a father figure, and unfortunately kind of half sees Joey as one (baaaad choice), but his mother is great -Loves drawing and tends to chew on pens (and most objects really) -Too young Susie Campbell-she/her, demi -Her parents were Russian and she picked up their accent, but taught herself how to cover it up. She is now excellent at voice acting. -Has a birthmark most theatres turned her away for. But luckily voice acting gave her another chance at performance, and the music department really does not care about it. -Her dad was a butcher, so she now knows a concerning amount about how to cut up and dissect meat. -She gets easily attached to things emotionally, and has a whole pile of random bits and bops she keeps on her person because she can't throw them away. -Naive, but smart enough to know how to read and deceive people if needed. Ms Abigail Lambert-she/her, lesbian -A very gifted artist, who is quite frustrated with the business aspect of animation. -Picked up quite a few things about engineering from Lacie. -Stern, but kind. Motherly, if she likes you and you squint hard enough. -Used to fighting for things. -Giving her food is a pretty good way to get her to like you. Being an artist, she forgets to eat at the correct times a lot, so a meals always appreciated. Norman Polk-he/him, gay, albino -Knows how to fix things, knows how to fight, knows how to hide -General cool uncle vibes -He watches people a lot, and gives off some creepy vibes, but he does genuinely care about people -Knows something is up and is determined to find out what (even if he dies trying) -Fought in WW1, then worked at a cinema for a bit. Emma Lamont-she/her, heteroflexible -Keep dancing even when everything goes wrong -Bit of a 'i'm better than these fools' mentality going on -But she's pretty chill, and willing to act when needed -Basically every woman in the studio knows her on the basis that she chills in the girls bathroom. -Hates Joey, but knows those who stir up a bit too much trouble usually 'resign' Sammy Lawrence-he/him, (vocal-romantic) bi/ace, ADD -His dad sucked, so he ran away. He's also the reason he's largely abandoned his faith, but he still holds hope that there is some kind of god out there. -He and Jack are basically brothers, they've known each other for a long time. -He can compose music in his head, but can play basically every instrument. -Tall and thin and sharp with a love of black coffee. -He's actually pretty chill and nice, but the conditions of the studio (workload, noises, dreams) have left him quick to snap and a stressed out mess. -He's pretty oblivious to his own feelings and spends basically all his time thinking about music, so he usually only realises that he has a crush on someone if he hears them singing (hence the vocal-romantic joke) Johnny Hart-he/him (she/her), gay (trans), heart condition -A nervous wreck who avoids everything and everyone -Trans but doesn't realise it, he thinks this level of discomfort has something to do with his heart condition or something like that. -Speaking of which, if he gets genuinely terrified or panicked he could have a heart attack. -Hence why he's a recluse who remains in the organ room and interacts w/ literally no one. -Except Dot and Buddy (who forgets he exists and who he also has a crush on). Wally Franks-he/him, pan -Friends with literally everyone who isn't one of the older folks (and thomas) -Honorary member of the music department because he can play a harmonica and vibes with everyone there. -Tries to put a positive spin on everything, often beyond the point of reason -A mischevous, mildly selfish prankster with a heart of gold -Gossip pals with Susie and Norman The Violinist-she/her, nobody knows -Has literally never expressed an emotion ever -Seems to know things are going to happen before they happen -Just generally pretty weird -She isn't friends with Dot, they're both just vaguely interested in what the others doing -She looks a lot like Allison, but the two have never spoken and nobody knows if they're sisters Thomas Connor-they/them, gynephilia -He is just. So tired. -An actual mechanical genius who gets his work used for the wrong purposes. -Is very of the 'when you're on a path stick to it' mentality -Cold and hard exterior that vertually no one except Allison has ever managed to get through. -He can and will beat you up. Henry Stein-he/him, gay, vitiligo -Nice and hardworking. -Doesn't have many emotions other than to draw. -He's in fucking narnia he's so deep in the closest. -Feels emotions, but buries them deep down and doesn't express them too clearly. -Has difficulty setting healthy boundaries with people and represses himself far too much. Joey Drew-he/him, homoromantic/pansexual, bipolar disorder, alcohol and cigarette addictions -Chaotic, feral, short little man who lies to everyone -Charismatic as hell, but also a terrible friend and person in general -He doesn't blink enough, does not know the meaning of personal space, and hasn't aged for about 4 years, which are all very bad signs. -Doesn't understand how to run a business but does so anyway. Doesn't understand how to interact with people but does so anyway. Doesn't understand how to create life but does so anyway- -He isn't pure evil, he just gets into very bad mindsets and makes poor decisions that lead him down the wrongest way to go. -Does some self evaluation and goes 'maybe this wasn't the right way chief :/' just a bit too late Audrey Dempsey-she/her, lesbian, Borderline Personality Disorder -Feral conspiracy theorist -May or may not be related to multiple studio members -Everyone's called her crazy for years and made her feel like a burden, and she is hellbent on proving everyone wrong -Quite socially awkward, and rather sarcastic with a dark sense of humour -Works for Archgate Allison Pendle-she/her & they/them, androphilic/ace -Is forever lost in a vintage clothing store -Most people say she seems nice, but everyone just kind of subconciously registers that there is something up with her -Knows a lot about the supernatural -The person closest to Joey, which doesn't necessarily mean they're friends -Nobody has ever seen the right side of her face Dot Acciaci-she/her, pan -Her parents are Italian, and she speaks a little herself, usually using it to encrypt her private notes -Mischevious & curious, but ultimately kind -She will find out your secrets, and is very good at reading people -Great storyteller -Struggles with loneliness a lot Dr Eleanor Hackenbush-she/her, aro/ace -Science knows no bounds -Doesn't care what your motivation is, as long as you give her some cash and some experiments -Filled with nothing but utter spite Ms Reina Rodriguez-they/them, demi -Tired of everything -Although she puts up a calm exterior, Rodriguez is very attached to the studio and views it as her 'new family', having a terrible relationship with her old one -Her family drama connects to the fact they're very catholic, but she nobody knows what this drama is other than Joey Tessa Arch-she/her, straight -An absolute bitch -Trusts her husband far too much -Not very smart, but compensates for this for being good looking and rich Shawn Flynn-he/him (intersex), pan -Jovial, but gets angry quickly -Willing to do 'wrong' things if it helps someone else out, kind of like Robin Hood or something -His mother taught him how to sew and he helped her make clothes when he was younger -Found it hard to get a job because he's Irish, so despite being tired of all the bullshit of JDS, he is reluctant to look elsewhere -Friends with Lacie and Grant because they appreciate his humour Lacie Benton-She/her, lesbian, trans -Tougher than the toughies -wlw & mlm solidarity w/ Bertrum, who she views as one of the only genuinely smart people in JDS and who she has worked for for basically all of her life -Feels like something is up, but doesn't notice much if it doesn't connect to her work -Has automatophobia -Friend with Shawn and Grant because she respects their dedication to their work Grant Cohen-He/him, bi, depression, jewish -Absolute madlad at maths -Acts like he doesn't care what you think, cares far too much about what you think -Everyone wants him to just get therapy already -Doesn't have many friends, but has a weird 'we're both horribly overworked' kinship with Sammy, so they usually just chill and smoke together -Friends with Shawn and Lacie because they're actually mentally stable and he needs some rocks Nathan Arch-He/him, straight -You should hate him -You should hate him a lot -Super rich and doesn't pay his workers enough -Silver tongued -Basically a spider. Creates webs of manipulation and lies, sees a lot, and knows plenty about waiting for his prey to come to him.

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ughthatimagineblog · 5 years

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When John Met. . .

john mulaney x reader

prompt: you’d loved him for years, before, during and after his fame, but what happens when you close your heart and he tries to win you over? oh, by the way, it’s in front of millions of people. requested: @lundqvistisgod warnings: cursing? kissing? word count:4232 a/n: jesus christ idk why it took me so long to shit this out. it was a beautiful prompt and the idea for the skit came to me from my fave fave fave rom com ever pls enjoy

You knew you wanted to be a writer, but staring at screens all day with the accompanying hum of machinery is not what you had pictured when you would think of your dream job. It never occured to you that maybe writing isn’t as simple as just “writing”. It had, but of course you were blindsided by the glitz and glamour of the flashing lights you had in your mind when it came to success in your dream career. Writing for Saturday Night Live was a dream… Sometimes. A lot of the time it was constant meetings with producers, stuck up famous people, more writers and interns that didn't know what the hell was going on. But at the same time, neither did you.

However, there was something off about this draft for next week’s show. It didn’t have a host written in. You looked over your computer to Pete who was also clicking away at his desk. You had come to be quite fond of him over the past couple of years. You were about the same age but you met him when you were also a clueless intern, prime in your senior year of university and he was only slightly more familiar to the studio than you were and just a little bit more outgoing which made him the perfect person to cling onto while you learned the ropes. It didn’t matter whatever you went through, he was there to help and it often saddened you to think of the day he moves on and expands his career without you. It was something you didn’t enjoy dwelling on and out of all the ups and downs you both had been through, you know you’d never trade them for the world.

One of the biggest issues you’d had that Pete had helped you with was John. Yes, John Mulaney. You’d met him towards the end of your intern years as you were invited back as a full time employee and writer for the show and he changed your life. He gave Pete a run for his money and even caused a little fight between you both while all three of you were first writing for SNL. You had spent so much time with John it drove Pete wild and he didn’t understand it until he drove you to confess your feelings for him. You and Pete knew you hadn’t had much luck with guys or felt so strongly for someone since high school so it was kind of a big deal for you. Alas, it did not last long and you were given the chance to move on as John left the show to pursue his standup career which turned out to be fruitful.

You remember seeing his shows start popping up on Netflix and then he’d have new ones every now and then, still performing in New York. You even went to see a few a couple years ago. But over time your frequent conversations became, well, less frequent. Every day turned into every week, every week into every month and every month into every year and then not at all. The world kept turning and he had forgotten.

By the time he’d returned to SNL to write you’d figured he’d become another washed up celebrity you both used to snicker at. You’d assumed the jabs in his shows were just quips to pander to audiences that were alien to celebrity life and not genuine like they would’ve been years ago. Now he was almost thirty two, much more skilled in his practice and you were closing in on twenty five and still at the same job you started at just with a higher pay raise and a little more creative freedom.

It pained you sometimes to see him around, to be forced to interact with him. There have been several late nights with your pal Pete where you would just rant about John and how hellish it was having to work with him again. Of course, Pete would listen and offer sage where he could but overall you would do most of the talking. At one point, he asked if you’d even spoken to him to see if your assumptions were true. You admitted you hadn’t. At least not in any way that had been genuine. You worked with him so of course you had to speak with him but not for longer than moments at a time and not for any more than a few words. It was all you’d offer John. It broke you when he left, it broke you again when he changed, something still unconfirmed but you were sure of it, and you couldn’t allow yourself to be broken again. Your fingers flicked the edge of a packet of paper idly as you debated asking Pete for help on the somewhat empty screen plan in front of you. He looked busy, like he didn’t want to be bothered and had better things to do. Besides, you were starting to feel bad about how much you ranted to him. Of course you let him rant to you as well but it was nothing compared to what you needed to let off and you could tell how much it was wearing on him. Little did you know, though, that Pete wasn’t necessarily tired of your rants, he was more tired of being the middleman. John, since coming back to SNL had been coming to him for advice as well. He knew that Pete was your closest friend and wanted to know how to get close to you again so John would go to Pete. They’d exchange emails and text, even going out for a beer a couple times a week all without your knowledge. Well, Pete would have a beer, John would go for the water or tea. If Pete let you find out, he knew just how angry you’d be and how you’d never let him live it down and he’d go down as the traitor friend who let her long time unrequited love just walk back into their lives with no fight. But that’s exactly how it was. Pete and John became really good friends since he had come back and actually found more things in common than just ‘you’. During this formed friendship, Pete learned John actually felt for you. In more ways than he had ever led on.

You sighed, finally caving in and opened your mouth to ask Pete why there were blanks in the forms when one of the interns walked into the office with a bouquet of flowers. Pete’s eyes quickly looked up from the monitor to the intern and back to you with a questioning look. Only a moment more and you stood. “Um, hi, can we help you?” You said, voice soft. “Yeah, these flowers are for a,” The intern paused to look at the note in her hands. “Y/N.” They looked back to you expectantly. “Oh, that’s me. Are you sure that’s correct?” You asked, doubt lacing your voice as you looked between Pete and the intern. They nodded, showing you the card. Sure enough your name was written in calligraphy and signed, ‘Secret Admirer’. You smiled, furrowing your brows a bit in confusion. “All right. Well, thank you.” You took the flowers from the temp’s arms and set them on your desk, staring at the card.

“Well?” Pete’s voice jolted you from your train of thought. Looking up from the piece of paper between your fingers you saw his expecting expression. “It’s from a secret admirer.” You laughed, giving the card to Pete. He smiled, shuffling in his seat as he turned it over in his hands. “Someone in the office likes you.” He grinned and you rolled your eyes. “Yeah well, very funny Pete but valentines day isnt until next year.” You turned back to your desk, ready to work again, already forgetting about your earlier question. “It wasn’t me.” His tone was serious. Looking back up at him, his face matched his voice. “You mean this wasn’t a joke?” He shook his head and you returned to your work, noticing your coworker had sent you a couple emails regarding a different project and for the rest of the day, the blanks in the form and the anonymous love had been forgotten.

For the next week, conversation with John had grown and you realized, maybe, he wasn’t as stuck up as you had previously believed. He was still kind, still funny, and still knew you better than most. But you were still wary, moving farther away when he would get close enough to, what seemed like, hear your heartbeat. Or sometimes he would say something that would edge between friendly and flirty and you’d change the subject, shutting it down before your face could heat up. But even as the interactions frequented, so did the flowers.

Followed by chocolates, and gifts that were surprisingly personal to you, each coming with a new note that became more detailed over time and by Monday, table work day, it was obvious your admirer was on the writing team for this upcoming Saturday. You smiled as you unveiled the card tucked into the sleeve of the coffee cup before you, which by the way, was ordered to your specific liking. Amused, you turned to Pete, leaning on your desk, reading the note out loud. “I hope you enjoy this special cup of your favorite blend. I’m looking forward to seeing you later today- later today?” You paused, surprised. Pete’s eyebrows shot up as a mischievous grin spread across his face.

“They must be in the table room for later.” Pete shrugged, leaning back in his chair, biting on the end of his pen with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Must be.” You giggled. “Nice sweatshirt by the way.” Pete said with a pointed look. You looked down and felt your face heat up with the realization. You had bought a shirt online with a reference to one of John’s show’s on it. Despite everything you had claimed, you still admired him and were proud. You were really just scared of getting hurt. “You know it’s nothing to be ashamed of but-“ He checked the time. “We have to get to the meeting.” You nodded grabbing your coffee and the notebook, heading out the door with Pete.

You were halfway down the long hallway towards the table room when it finally dawned on you. “Oh yeah, Pete, there was a mistake in my forms. Who is the host? The spot was blank?” You asked as he reached for the handle and opened the door. You walked into the room, still waiting for a reply from your friend. You wouldn’t get one. Sitting at the table was two other writers you were not super familiar with and then John. John Mulaney sat at the head of the table. One of the writers turned to you and smiled. “Y/N, John’s going to be our host this week.” Shutdown. Your brain began to shut down. This meant youd work with him more. Every day for a lot longer than just a few seconds. You were so shocked you didn’t feel the hot coffee that was now on your hands as you had squeezed the cup too hard.

“Oh, shit.” You cursed, face heating up and the horrid chain of events unfolding before you. John’s face changed from smiling to concerned as he leapt up from his seat to help assist in the cleanup.

You stood in the breakroom, water from the sink left running as you leaned against the sink while John was applying Neosporin onto your burn. “Does it hurt?” He asked softly, eyes focused solely on the injury before him. “No, not anymore.” You managed to get out. He was so close. Your cheeks felt hot and even though he towered over you, the proximity made him feel small. “I told you, it’s not that big of a deal-“ You were cut off by him shushing you. “Hey, I wanted to help so I’m helping.” You rolled your eyes as he finally made eye contact again. “You’re wasting time.” He scoffed. “Pete and Megan can handle it for a while.” You shook your head and it fell silent. “Nice sweatshirt.” He grinned. “Shut up.” He laughed and your heart clenched in your chest. You loved his laugh. “No animosity. It’s a good bit.” He turned to reach for the bandaid. “Yeah, a lot of people seem to think so.” You said, a hint of venom in your tone.” His eyes shot to yours. “Is there something wrong?” John’s voice has both concern and hurt in his voice.

“No. Put the bandaid on.” John’s hand withdrew. “No, now I know something’s wrong.” You looked at him and sighed. “You’ve just been gone and you’re different.” You confessed. “I’m different?” You nodded, crossing your arms, flinching and then uncrossing them. He muttered a “Give it here.” before taking your hand again and dabbing it with a cool cloth more. “You left a long time ago and it was hard seeing you go. And then it- you got really really big and famous and soon enough you were just like them.” Your words felt small saying them aloud. His expression was incredulous. “Like them? Like who? Like the people we used to shit on? Y/N, I’m not ‘like them’. I haven’t changed. But every time I’ve tried to show you that since being back you’ve backed away. Pulled away. If anything you’ve changed.” Your head snapped up at him, a ping of hurt went through you.

“I have not changed. I just don’t know when you’re going to leave again so I’d rather not lead my own feelings on and let you get close to me again just for you to run off again.” Your eyes closed after you finished confessing, only in the back of your mind registering what you had told him.

“Your feelings for me?” He asked and your eyes opened. “Yes. And I’d rather not re-open that wound if you’re just going to run off again. But thank you, for trying.” You grabbed the band aid from his hands, which were shaking but you were too quick to notice, and left. You left him in that break room with no room for a response or time to register. You didn’t want or care to know his response.

Saturday finally came and so did the end of working within more-than-close proximity with John. He had talked to you the same amount as the days before, not mentioning what you had told him, treating you just the same and eventually your heart sank at his indirect answer to how he felt in return. But the secret admirer never stopped sending gifts. Another cup of coffee, more flowers, your apartment was filled with them, and more food. By the time your last gift came in today, you marched down to the other writer for Saturday’s episode, Michael’s office to tell him to stop. You knew it was him, especially after Monday. At first it was sweet but at this point you didn’t like him that way and knew you had to tell him.

You knocked on the threshold and leaned in the frame. Michael’s eyes popped up from his desktop and smiled when he saw you. This was going to be hard. “Hey, Mike, I just wanted to say thank you for all these little gifts but,” You walked further into the room to make sure you two were alone. “I don’t like you in that way. I’m sorry. I just have feelings for someone else and you’re a great guy, and I-“

“Stop, stop, stop. I didn’t send you those gifts.” Michael said, a smile on his face. “What?” He chuckled. “Yeah, those gifts that intern’s been delivering? Those aren’t from me. Thanks for thinking it was me, but they weren’t.” He smiled with a closed mouth before returning to work.

You left his office perplexed. Who could it have been? Maybe Pete had been doing it as a joke. You would wait until he got off of lunch to confront him and tell him how mean that was but for now there was work to do and a show to air.

Night fell and Pete returned just as everyone was preparing for places and you nearly stabbed him with your own finger when he got back. “You asshole!” His arms flew up and the couple steps he took back from you were staggered. “What the fuck?” People shoved past as you pressed on. “You sent all that bullshit to me?” Pete’s face turned on a dime as he registered what you implied. “No! I did not!”

“Do not lie to me, I talked to Michael, he didn’t send them.” You claimed, crossing your arms, brows furrowed so deep you felt like you hadn’t moved your face for ages. “Of course it wasn’t Michael. Michael is gay, Y/N. But that’s not even the top reason why it wouldn’t be him.” You shrugged, throwing your arms and feeling one of them flop to your thigh as your other hand came up to pinch the bridge of your nose. “Then who did?” You released the bridge and looked up with a questioning gaze. Pete only returned with an equally expectant stare.

It registered and your turned towards the cast hallway in horror and surprise. “No.” Your voice sounded distant, even to your own ears. You stood there, frozen, people bumping into you in a hurry as they passed. What was really ten seconds felt like thirty minutes before Pete sighed. “Yes, it was him.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“He wanted it to be a surprise! He told me this is what he was going to do and holy shit, finally. I was so sick and tired of you both secretly pining for each other like, what kinda bullshit is that?” Pete rambled for a few moments before finding your unresponsiveness a little tiring and walking off. Your feet moved you before your brain did after that. Back to your office, to put away a couple folders given to you by some bustling assistants, cameramen or more interns, then they carried you back while the anxiety built up. You came back to see John take his place, an assistant handed him a bottle of water and he took a drink, catching your eye. The director began to count. You smiled and he waved back and they hit five seconds. The audience was in place, you were next to camera man A, aka James to oversee how well the script ran and soon enough, John began hosting.

His bit ended sooner than expected and he came straight up to you the moment the cameras were off of him. “Was that okay?” He asked, half jogging up to you, nearly chugging the water he was given. “Yeah, you did great.” You nodded, offering to hold the bottle for him but he shook his head in response. Your head was still reeling, not forgetting about the fact he was the one to send those gifts but not knowing how to ask about it. “I have to do a couple more skits before I can bring you on.” He admitted, signaling you to walk with him. “What?”

“I talked to Lorne and Don. They agreed to let you do a skit with Aidy and I. It’s close to the end and I talked to Inga. She agreed to do your makeup and hair while I go on to do my other ones.” You failed to speak as he explained and all you could do was stutter. “I won’t even know what to say? This is not what we wrote.” You tried to weasel your way out of it. “It’s an improve. You’ll do fine. Kate comes in around the middle so if you start dying she can help.” He nodded with reassurance as you reached his dressing room and opened the door to meet Inga, Louie and Cara. “Oh god.”

You waited in his room long after he left. His costume changers were also there to help, which you were booted for, but welcomed back in as he went on. They changed you into your costume which fit you surprisingly well. Well cut skinny jeans and a nice shirt. Inga did your makeup to compliment your face and eyes and your hair to complete everything. “I must be one of the normal ones in this one, huh?” You quipped and Inga just smiled which, admittedly, worried you. Just as you were about to dwell on it too much, the door opened and Stella, the girl you liked to call the cue girl, opened the door and waved you out. Your breath was shaky and steps were uneven as you made the trek to the stage. She informed you they had three minutes until the commercial break was over, the musical guest would introduce the skit and they would signal you to go on with John. You nodded adamantly, not bothering to tell her you knew how the show ran in fear of throwing up the moment you opened your mouth. Three minutes passed faster than they should have and right before you were about to ask about them rigging the clock, John came up, dragged you to side stage and whispered “Break a leg.” You smiled up at him and his eyes found yours with a soft look. It felt safe. The musical guest walked onto the main stage and introduced the skit. “New Years Eve” they had announced and before you could think of how odd it was, considering it was August, they started counting you down from behind the camera and it was also only then you realized the room was packed with extras all wearing party clothes. You recognize the scene immediately. “When Harry Met Sally.” You muttered. The camera guy’s hands counted down from ten as Aidy rushed you into place. “When John Met Y/N.” She said and winked, walking away. “What?” You asked, panic and confusion now flooded you. The room was so crowded and she was gone before the man hit five. Four… Three… Two… One… Everyone in the room began counting down as the music kicked up and the twinkling of party decor littered the set. Your confusion was appreciated but genuine as John approached you. He had the nerve to drag you into this. Your confusion turned to anger and you no longer cared. “Dammit, John, what the hell is this?” You made a vague gesture around the room. It was improv technically, or at least, you could play it like it was. The look in his eyes told you he knew it wasn’t. “You drag me into your crap the moment you come back like nothing has changed? And you sent me all that other stuff like nothing has happened? Don’t you care about me? Because if you did, you’d know you can’t just walk back into my life like that. It doesn’t work that way.” Your heart gasped. You’d said it. “Well, I do care about you. I care about the way you bite your lip when you get real nervous,” He wasn’t. “I care about how you can never make up your mind whether you want tea or coffee and how, despite claiming you hate me, you still wear my sweatshirt. And most of all I care about how, even after all this time, your laugh hasn’t changed a bit and even after I leave work and go home to my apartment at night, I can still hear it in my head. Away from home, that's what I missed most. And come to think of it, you are what I missed most and it killed me you never knew how much I loved you before I left.” He finished and it took a few moments for the blood to stop rushing in your ears long enough to realize the crowd had stopped counting and you could hear the tail end of the audience’s ‘awe’. “And all this?” “Surprise.” He whispered sheepishly, coming close to your, his arms coming up to your biceps as you had crossed your arms earlier. “You’re an asshole, yknow that?” You smiled, as he leaned down to kiss you. “Believe me, I know.” Your lips brushed his and he smiled through the tender kiss before pulling away. The audience clapped as you both pulled from each other. You looked around. “Did you plan all this just to ask me out on a skit?” You realized cameras were still rolling. He nodded and turned to the camera. “That’s right folks, you just witnessed an elaborate plan to ask the love of my life out on a date instead of an actual skit. That’s something you just paid money for. Thank you all for watching… “ You turned away from him and the giggling audience to find Pete off stage. You smiled softly at him and mouthed ‘thank you’. He smiled and winked in return. “... And goodnight!” John finished and came back to kiss you more as the credits rolled and the music resumed. Maybe he wasn’t stuck up, but he was right about one thing. Famous people are weird.

#john mulaney bull question mark #john mulaney #john mulaney x reader #john mulaney imagine #john mulaney x you

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theprodigypenguin · 4 years

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I’m gonna get sappy here for a bit, so feel free to pass this post.

All day today my coworkers were talking about Valentine’s Day and their significant others, one of them talked about how she set up cute goodies for her husband and kids, another talked about making dinner and getting her boyfriend of 4 years a valentine’s gift after work, and the third one talked about spending a cute dinner with her boyfriend. That was all super fine, it was cute, they were all so excited that I got excited listening to them. They looked so happy that I was only happy for them, but then one of my coworkers looks at me and goes “so do you have a love interest in town, someone you like?”

For background, yeah, I do. There’s a guy who works in the same building that I like. We don’t exactly work together, because we work in two separate businesses that just happen to be located in the same place (they’re like a grocery store and we’re a deli/bakery that sells stuff in the front of the store). So he’s like a work crush, but I’ve liked him for MONTHS. I even bought him something for Christmas, and was bold enough to give it to him in person instead of shoving it in his cubby and running away like I wanted to.

Clearly he appreciated it because the next day he gave me a Christmas gift too (one of two gifts I got aside from a Christmas care package I got from Weasel). It was an adorable little notebook that he bound BY HAND, the cover is real leather, and he made it THAT NIGHT. Like? Why is he so sweet? And I really like him, and sometimes I get the feeling he may like me back, but there’s so much wrong with me, emotionally and mentally, that I don’t know if I can properly understand other people’s opinions or feelings towards me.

People liking me is just... absurd to me, because it doesn’t make sense, because no one has ever liked me before, because clearly there’s something wrong with me, so what makes me at twenty-two so different from me at any other age? My romantic relationships in the past have been far and few between. I’ve had exactly one person I called my boyfriend, and I fucked that up because of how intense and fucked up my self image and insecurity was (I broke it off with him because my family made me feel insecure about the relationship). I regret it every day, because breaking up with him started a domino effect in his life, and I don’t want to explain that part further cuz it still stings. The other “relationships” I had were just as messed up, and I thought it would be less painful when I had a crush on a girl, but nah, that was even worse. I confessed to her and she went and started dating my friend ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ There’s more to unpack between my crushes/relationships from the past, but I don’t think Tumblr needs to know the rest of that.

Anyway, this isn’t about all that. Romantic love is all well and good, and I like to think I’m at a place in my life where I’d be ready for something romantic, but for me platonic love comes first, and is the most important thing to me. My family has warped my and my romance has damaged me, but my friends, for the most part, have healed me and helped me grow more than anything else. I’ve gotten through my darkest moments completely alone, because my irl friends just... didn’t care, but the older I get, the more I’m learning I don’t have to do that, because even if my “friends” irl don’t give a damn about me, I like to imagine I’m starting to accept that the friends I’ve made online, notably Tumblr, do genuinely care.

Internet friends are so much more treasurable than people give them credit for, and I know in this day and age it’s hard to know if you’re getting catfished or not, but these people especially I trust with my entire life. So for this Valentine’s Day I would like to send invisible Valentine��s Day love to three Tumblr friends I’ve made over the past year or two I’ve been on this site that I appreciate more than words can describe.

@cremmisius | @weasleywood True friendship is born from a meme, which is how I found this amazing sir. Intrigued because my lack of being able to read like a normal person made me think his URL said Weasel instead of Weasley, because I’m an idiot. A meme and a fun name had us starting to talk, and now I consider him to be one of my closest online friends QwQ I just wish we lived a little closer, I swear if I loved closer to you or you lived closer to me I’d be dragging you to watch The Cursed Child with me so we could cry over it together. For now we must deal with several states separating us, but I’m going to be sending you more care packages and goodies as soon as I can. Thank you for being such an amazing friend to me, and for letting me slide into your DMs with so many depressing and angsty James headcanons because I’m a lunatic. Thank you for having such amazing OCs and for just existing in general, because my man you give me strength (and really good advice considering who I’m crushing on so thank you for helping me pick out his christmas present).

@scarshavestories I think it’s been literally a year? Since we started talking? I’ll be honest, I reached out originally for a beta reader, which I’d never had before cuz I was too much of a wuss and couldn’t handle edits. A beta would say “you spelled yes with two E’s” and I’d cry cuz I’m a baby, but I think I’m better now, probably. At first you were super intimidating, idk why, beta readers are just spooky scary to me, editors have inhuman powers, and I thought I was constantly annoying you when I messaged you because i’m just like that, but you are literally so patient and kind and sweet and I did not expect that but I appreciate you so much for putting up with me (and I know you’re gonna smack me with a newspaper or something cuz I say “put up with me” a lot and you nag me about it but you know what that’s okay that’s what friends do). Anyway! I’ve grown to really consider you a friend, and I feel so beyond lucky, because wow I do not deserve you, you’re too nice and wonderful I can’t even believe it, and I want to send you goodies in a care package too but I don’t wanna send you stuff you can’t use cuz I know you don’t like having stuff with no purpose BUT I’LL FIGURE SOMETHING OUT! And one day if I ever visit the UK I hope I can meet you QwQ you are very far away, literally the other side of the world from me, am sad but still love you.

@bettercallmemalfoy I think you’re one of the first people I started talking to on Tumblr, found you through Scorbus and I think that’s very appropriate tbh. You’re not much younger than me but I consider you my smol sis and I adore you, and for the record your accent is SO CUTE I just wanted to add that. I haven’t sent out your care package yet cuz of personal stuff but it’s bad cuz I keep finding stuff I want to add to it and if I keep adding stuff it’s gonna be really heavy and then the shipping will literally kill me, but I just want to note when you get your box you are going to be so happy and I can’t wait for you to get it cuz it’s packed with all the love in the world cuz I want to spoil you cuz you deserve it. I know right now you’re probably watching TCC and I’m SO HAPPY FOR YOU cuz you deserve it so much, being able to watch the play for real, you deserve it more than most tbh (everyone deserves to see it at least once but that’s not the point). I just wanted to add you to this post and send you Valentine’s Day love so you know that someone out there adores you. Even if it’s just me, at least it’s something QwQ thank you for being my friend, and again I’m sad you’re so so far away, separated by lots of that stupid water, but we’ve been friendos for this long so maybe we can remain friendos until we can maybe meet one day.

Even if I haven’t contacted you in weeks, I think about you guys every day, when I think of true friends I think of you three, and I talk about you guys at work and to my family and talk you up and say I have pen pals/internet friends and they’re the best and I love them cuz I love you guys so much and you deserve to know. So thank you for being my friends, thank you for putting a little more light and love into my life and making me happy to have a Tumblr.

Remember to take care of yourselves, take your meds, get enough sleep, enjoy baking that cake, don’t cry too hard at TCC but if you do make sure you cry in front of James Howard (I think he’s the actor who plays Draco in the London production, right?) that way you can sneak your way into maybe getting a hug >:3

And know I love you lots and wish all the good in the world to befall you <3 <3 <3 Happy Valentine’s Day to you and to all of my followers who have decided to put up with all my mess, I love you all!

#friends #appreciation #fandom #the cursed child fandom #tcc fandom #squad #valentine's day #appreciation post #for my friendos #no one has to read this post btw\#it's just me gushing about my friends

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wwounu · 5 years

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mafia!junhui “WEN” #1013

↻ masterlist — intro￤s.coups￤yoon￤hong￤wen￤hoshi￤jeon￤woozi￤dk￤kim￤xu￤boo￤chwe￤lee

note: happy jun day~

con-artist/gambler

member of Perficio Unit

maybe con-artist isn’t the best term but its the closest to what he does

which is disguising himself and acting in a certain way

he’s been conning others since a young age

does really odd roles despite being a guy who just has to go undercover

bartender, a very bad chef, blind, pole dancer he wasnt asked to do that but he just wanted to try

all the work that goes into his conning his done by himself: fake ids, cards, outfits although joshua and seungkwan help him on that

his best role is his gambler status, which is how seventeen recruit him

located using jeonghan’s connections but it was hard since it was in china, however soonyoung was the one to recruit him

soonyoung and junhui were actually pen-pals a long time ago junhui always laughed at soonyoung’s attempt at writing chinese, they both didn’t realise it until the night where soonyoung had to save junhui’s ass

it was in a grand casino in china where it happened when seungcheol, jeonghan and soonyoung were observing him

junhui was gambling and having the time of his life winning all the money he got from filthy rich people

until a gang came in and kidnapped him in order to get all his valuables as well as set the casino on fire

seungcheol left first to help the people get out as quickly and safely as possible

and without their leader, soonyoung and jeonghan had to do something too, but didn’t know what

so jeonghan left afterwards to find where the fire was and deal with it

leaving soonyoung to rescue junhui from the gang

it was getting hotter and hotter the more the fire spread, making soonyoung’s focus harder to get to junhui

but he eventually found him and had to fight against three men who were armed

and soonyoung wasnt cheol, so he was in some serious shit.

he did have a gun though

lets just say soonyoung likes to aim for the head when shooting

junhui, confused, is dragged by follows soonyoung into his car and at this point junhui thinks hes going to die

because who wouldnt think that

soonyoung tells him to stay in the car in korean which he found weird because why would a korean gang kidnap him and why would he even stay he’s being kidnapped twice in one night and leaves

although he thought he was being smart, he couldnt get out of the car no matter how hard he tried

whoever modified this car must be insane

soon, three guys come back into the car and junhui is fighting for his life to get out

however he stops, thinking he can get out of this if he acted like he was part of the authority

he tried... but seungcheol telling off soonyoung for stealing another car in china was cancelling his chances

and afterward jeonghan said ‘hey this guy’s acting is really good’, which junhui understood and gave jeonghan a weird look

because how did he know he was acting-

junhui was eventually taken into a cold and dark alleyway, cornered by the three men speaking in korean

more like arguing since one of them was yelling at the driver and the one that sat next to junhui was getting mad for not getting any attention on him

thats when it hit junhui

‘sorry - are you soonyoung?’

and soonyoung jumps back but keeps his cool

‘whats it to you’

junhui knows hes only acting but it gets on his nerves anyway

he reasons, ‘did you have a pen pal when you were 10?’

soonyoung panics even more, getting on his knees like howdoyouknowmeilldoanythingforyou

cue jeonghan and seungcheol not knowing whats going on

junhui says that he thinks he was his pen pal and soonyoung goes NO WAY I DONT TRUST YOU

but hes like ‘your eyes havent changed from that picture... but did you really throw a shoe at your sister—’

and soonyoung shuts him up, looking to the guys and is like ‘ok were recruiting him

junhui didnt have a say but hey he got a free ferry ride to korea

as junhui is in a new country, he can now con everyone all over again

locals see him as another person who blends into the crowd

“lucky hands” is what seventeen calls him

the filthy rich know him as the “hand of god”

all because of junhui’s gambling skills

even when they try to cheat him junhui hates cheaters with a passion, he’ll win

card games are his preferred way of gambling

its his game when youre against him — he can predict his opponents style and moves

he can choose to win or not if he pleases

but wheres the fun in losing?

comes home with a duffle bag of cash and seventeen sigh as they find junhui literally bathing in his money

sometimes gets bored of gambling and winning all the time for no real challenge at the end, but joining seventeen gave him to enjoy it all over again

loves games that involve betting

bets on his life when he’s drunk

over the years people have suspected him to be in seventeen, so people try to get him drunk so that Junhui can spill all their secrets about them

but they should know better — junhui can act drunk out of his mind to sober on command

drunk junhui also knows better than to trust them

insert seventeen all telling drunk junhui over and over again to not trust people that arent in seventeen for a whole week

his reputation is very respected and very high, and junhui has been holding that for ages despite how much people want to beat him

members cant beat him either — and its funny to watch them try their hardest

however you have members like jeonghan crying his way to win and junhui buying it

or chan holding up a gun to junhui’s head — or seokmin naturally making junhui feel sad because its seokmin

sports do not exist in his dictionary, only games

because brawn is overrated, you need to master the mind

speaking of hands, he’s very quick with them

can steal almost anything he wants, can also get into someone’s phone to transfer enough information to jihoon

he’s very sly and no one notices him unless he wants the attention

his only weakness is walking

the boy stomps

isnt light on his feet — when he feels cocky his footsteps get louder to get the attention

Perficio Unit’s tries their best to make junhui walk more quietly, but it gives him a reason to be louder

his killing skill isnt up to par with the rest of his unit yet he’s certainly needed in hiding all traces of them

because his way of clearing the evidence is flawless

how to hide fingerprints, clean the weapons, replace details of the scene

he’s one of a kind

his choice of weapon other than guns is throwing stars because its just like skipping stones, except your aiming for the target’s chest

not the greatest metaphor but junhui is also good at skipping stones so...

the most merciful out of Perficio Unit, but that still doesnt mean a lot

is a strange person when you really know him — though no one rarely sees it since he secures himself with a certain, flawless image

only seventeen and seventeen alone can see right through him

unless its another act he’s pulling

“As the door opened, I was faced with new destiny”

#this is so rushed im sorry #but happy birthday junhui ilysm #sorry i did u so dirty :(#junhui #wen junhui #junhui imagines #junhui au #junhui scenarios #seventeen #jun #seventeen junhui #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen mafia au #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #mafia!junhui #hbd jun and happy one year to opposites attract~

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army-author · 7 years

Text

jin scenario | very punny

❝ You sign up for a Christmas pen pal project to keep the boredom at bay over the holidays... but your pen pal partner might be a lot closer to you than you think... ❞

➸ prompt: You and I both sign up for a Christmas Pen Pal project to exchange postcards letters over the holidays.

➸ pairing: jin x reader

➸ warnings: contains a lot of terrible dad jokes

➸ requested by @felifli | 7.6k words | fluff, university au

Christmas is the most boring time of year.

It’s the time of year when your university friends all travel home to their family, leaving you alone on campus, lamenting over the price of plane tickets that stand between you and your home far away. It’s the time of year when you have the city to yourself, with no one to explore it with, wasting free hours in cafes, sipping on gingerbread lattes, and staring out the window at the skies that promise snow, but never deliver. It’s the time of year when the only conversation you get is with your family over Skype, asking you how you’re doing. And while you make sure to show a smile for them, as soon as they disconnect your face falls back to blank, losing all Christmas joy.

You’re desperate for this year to be different. You’ve piled up your work, asking to help with articles for the university newspaper, and planning to get ahead on reading for your course. But already the idea of three weeks with only work is freezing up your heart. Even if you won’t admit it.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay this Christmas?” your friend Hoseok asks over a rushed cup of coffee as you hurry to your last lecture of term. You had both agreed that you were going to try and get to it, just to say you’d been, even if it was unusual for English Lit students to get out of bed any earlier than one in the afternoon.

“I’ll be fine!” you assure him, smiling as you hold open the lecture door for him, and follow him into the almost empty lecture hall. It seems the other students are still lying in at nine AM. “I’m doing a lot of stuff this year. I won’t be bored.” But even as you say it, a weight settles in your heart, reminding you of the lonely holiday you have ahead of you.

Hoseok raises his eyebrows at you as you slide onto one of the benches. “Yeah… but doing a lot of work won’t fix the fact that you’ll barely be seeing anybody for three weeks. Won’t you go crazy living all alone?”

“Hoseok…” you hum, “You’re worrying too much.”

But you know he’s probably worrying just the right amount.

“I still think you should try and find out who else is staying in town over the holidays,” Hoseok says, “You need friends.”

You’re about to retort that you’re perfectly capable of making friends without his input, that you’re not going to sit sad and lonely the whole Christmas, even though you know that’s exactly what you’ll do, but before you can say anymore, the lecturer is flurrying into the room with a bundle of notes and a quick apology to the group of ten that actually deemed the lecture worth the cold walk from dorms to class.

You’re left for your mind to ruminate over all that you’ll miss out on during Christmas as you sit in the lecture, worrying about what you’ll do with yourself over the break, and barely listening as the lecturer talks about villanelles and sonnets.

By the time you leave the hall you wish you had just stayed in bed and slept, rather than leaving yourself to stew in your own worries for a whole hour, learning nothing from the minimal notes you wrote in the time. But as you leave the lecture hall and cross the foyer to get to the campus café for your second coffee of the morning, Hoseok lets out a yell, which he is prone to doing frequently, so you barely bat an eyelid, until his hand falls your arm, giving a squeeze.

“What? What is it?” you demand to his excited face, dimples digging into the sides of him mouth as he smiles.

Without a word he drags you over to the faculty’s notice boards, and points out one particular poster:

‘Staying in town over the holidays? Sign up for our Christmas Pen Pal programme and chat with students staying in uni during December!’

You stare at it, then blink back to Hoseok. “Yeah? Why are you pointing this out?”

“Why? This is perfect for you!” Hoseok rolls his eyes, like it’s obvious, “You’ll get to know someone else staying in town during the holidays, and hopefully not feel so lonely!” Hoseok’s excitement is so bubbly that you don’t have the heart to pop it all at once, and so, even though you don’t like the sound of it, you don’t shoot him down, giving a neutral nod instead. But you don’t enjoy pen pal projects – your only other experience of something like this was in high school, when you were made to exchange emails with students from France to improve your French grade. But after one exchange your French pen pal conveniently forgot about you, and that was the end of it.

“I’ll think about it,” you say, while Hoseok grabs a flyer from the pile just below the notice board and stuffs it into your coat pocket.

“Please do.”

As you exit the English Lit faculty building with another cup of coffee as energy for the walk back to your dorms, you bump into one of the other students crossing the street to get to the library. Almost in slow motion, you watch your coffee splatter his white sweatshirt with brown splodges.

“Crap. Sorry!” you mumble, looking up to the face of the man you just graffitied with your drink, to see a face you hadn’t expected to see. Kim Seokjin. A high achieving medical student, a couple of years above you, who you’ve only heard of through hearsay. He’s the main editor of the university newspaper, the student welfare officer, and on top of that, he helps out with the drama society, all while still finding the time to study well. The times you’ve heard his name mentioned most is from girls gossiping over how handsome he is, looking like he’s been pulled out of a drama and placed in the real world. You thought he looked okay in pictures you saw of him performing on stage, or smiling in prize ceremonies, but in person you now completely understand why his name is on the tip of everyone’s tongues.

He blinks down at the few spots of coffee on his sweater, then looks to the coffee cup in your hand and grins, “Did I just get mugged?”

You frown at him for a split second, before he explains, “… because you spilt coffee… which you usually find in a mug?”

You keep on staring, while Hoseok groans behind you at the terrible pun. But some part of you, a very immature and childish part, wants to laugh. Instead you just mumble another brief apology, while he waves it off with a flick of his hand, and buttons up his coat to cover the sweatshirt you stained. With a final smile, he leaves and you watch after him, still in awe that someone so beautiful can exist in real life.

“Uh oh…” Hoseok grins as you watch the medic leave, “Has someone fallen for the charms of Kim Seokjin?”

“Oh shut up,” you huff, as you turn back towards your dorms, “You can’t look at that face and tell me he’s not handsome…”

Hoseok grins, “You were thinking a bit more that that just now, weren’t you?”

“Whatever,” you speed up, the cold and Hoseok’s teasing making you grumpy, “Be nice, or I won’t help you with packing.”

“Aw come on…”

♡♡♡

But despite the teasing with Hoseok, you’re sad to wave him off on a frosty Saturday morning as his older sister helps him carry his suitcases down to the taxi outside.

You stand by the door of your own dorm room, with a smile on your face for his sake, and when his room is cleared of his bags, he runs back to give you a hug. “Look after yourself.”

“I will,” you promise.

“Don’t stay lonely and sad all Christmas!”

“I won’t.”

He pulls away from you with a grin, and then runs over to his waiting sister. One last wave and then the door closes on his heart-shaped smile, and you’re alone for three weeks, Hoseok being the last of your friends to leave.

Already restless from the uneasy quiet of your corridor, no students talking in their rooms, and no music blaring over the speakers, you pace for a few minutes across your carpeted floor, then sit down to work on one of the newspaper articles, before getting bored. Your room feels drabber and plainer without the knowledge that Hoseok is just across the corridor, and that you can go knock on his door to ask for something fun to do. Not wanting to drive yourself crazy from staring at the same room you’ve known for all of last year, you throw on a coat and scarf, and head out into the freezing air, hoping a walk will keep you occupied.

The city is lit up with the same Christmas lights you’ve seen before, shining blue snowflakes that reflect off rain puddles, and golden specks of light strung up on the bare trees to make them feel less dead. You wander aimlessly through the streets, trying to decide what to do with yourself. All the shops are tempting with their displays that promise nothing for a broke student with no money to spend, and after ducking in and out of a few doors, picking up books that seem interesting, and clothes that look cute, you decide it’s best not to tease your empty purse, and instead head back to your dorms again. But once you reach the familiar streets leading to your accommodation, you can’t push yourself the extra few steps inside. Nothing waits for you there but a dark room, with a faulty lamp and a strained internet connection. So instead, you take a turn and step into the closest café, one of your favourites for studying. The familiar smell of coffee and syrup puts you at ease.

You sit down at your normal seat by the window, resting your chin on your hand as you stir the froth of your latte, and watch the outside world pass by, wondering how you’re supposed to survive three more weeks of this.

At that moment, a face you recognise passes by, pulling you out of your own head, and you can’t help but stare at Kim Seokjin, just outside the window, looking like a model with his coat clinging to his wide shoulders, and a blue scarf wound up tight to his chin. His eyes fall to you as you stare, and recognition spreads across his face along with a smile, although you wish it wouldn’t. You don’t want him to remember you as the one who spilled coffee over his white shirt.

But already he’s stepping into the café, looking your way before he goes up to order himself an Americano, and then he steps over to you with: “Hi.”

“Hello,” you smile politely, hoping your face doesn’t give away too much of your awe, reeling over his perfected features.

“Are you staying in town over Christmas?” he asks, “Or are you just leaving late?”

“No, I’m staying…” you clarify, and he nods, blowing on his cup of coffee, before taking a sip of it:

“Yeah… me too. It’s only the first day and I’m already bored.” He laughs at himself, a high-pitched sound, not the sort of laugh you had expected from a man who’s so well known around campus. You would have expected him to be serious, with a low laugh that was rare to hear. But then you remember his terrible jokes, and think maybe you judged him wrong from the start.

“Ah… well, it can only get more boring from here,” you sigh, and then wonder if you should say anything else. If Hoseok was here he would encourage you to ask Jin if he would like to spend some time with you over the holidays, to help alleviate each other’s boredom. But Hoseok’s not here, and you don’t have your friend’s lack of inhibition, so you bite your tongue and stay silent.

Jin doesn’t say anything, just sticks the hand that isn’t holding coffee into his coat pocket and nods with another sip.

You sit watching him awkwardly, wondering if he has more to say, or if he’s going to leave, until at last, he cracks the ice by pointing to the spoon resting in your coffee.

“Did you hear the joke about the doctor and the coffee?” he asks, and you shake your head.

With no need for any more encouragement, Jin launches off, “Well, a man went to the doctor asking about a stabbing pain in his eye every time he drank coffee… and the doctor asked him… ‘do you take the spoon out of your cup before you drink?’”

You fight an eye-roll as Jin falls to laughing at his own joke.

“Does your repertoire only consist of coffee related puns, or can you do others as well?” you ask.

“Oh, I know many more,” Jin says, giving you a wink, before adding, “But, I won’t interrupt you and your latte any longer. I hope you have a good Christmas, and who knows… maybe we’ll bump into each other at some point during the holidays?”

“Yeah… maybe…” you smile after him, watching him leave the café again, giving a wave through the glass before he melts back into the crowd of Christmas shoppers.

♡♡♡

When you get back to your dorm room, you’re still bored, tired and bored, and have nothing to remedy it. You flop onto your bed, and stare blankly at the grey of the ceiling, with your brain squelching through all possible options of what you can do over the holidays to keep yourself occupied. And that’s when the Christmas pen pal exchange programme slips back into your mind again. You feel in your coat pocket, and sure enough, there’s the flyer, still folded up inside, courtesy of Hoseok.

You pull it out and stare at it for a few minutes before finally deciding that you’re bored enough for it, beyond bored enough for it.

So you get up, grab your laptop and search up the correct email address, reading through the rules.

From what you can understand, the welfare office set up the system to allow students who stay in the city over Christmas to exchange letters over the holidays, all anonymously, so that there’s no embarrassment about what is said. You figure that even if your pen pal ends up being a jerk, or completely ignoring you, at least it will steal away a few seconds of time that would have normally been spent empty.

With your application sent, you’re left with nothing to do, but check through your friends’ messages, cute pictures of Hoseok’s dog, who’s glad to see him home for the holiday, making you wonder how your own family are doing without you.

♡♡♡

The next morning, after making yourself breakfast in the strangely empty shared kitchen, now clean and tidy, not like the days you would normally walk in to a stack of unwashed plates and the smell of take-out food, you go back to check your laptop, and find an email, telling you that you’ve received a partner for the programme.

You make a note of the address you’re to send your letters to, along with some general pointers from the welfare office about what you should write. Closing your laptop again, you bite your lip and think. Now that you’ve gone through with it, applying on a bored whim, and tired out of your mind, you wonder if you can get away with not responding. The idea of writing to a complete stranger about your experiences in an empty university, normally packed with students, seems too daunting. Even if it is anonymous the whole thing is frightening for you. You’ve spent your whole course writing essays, and articles in your spare time, but when it comes to writing a letter to a stranger you have absolutely no idea where to begin. It would probably be best to ignore the email, pretend you never got it, and continue on as if the whole thing hadn’t happened.

But then you think of your partner, this person you don’t know, supposed to alleviate your loneliness while your friends are all away, and you know you’ll feel guilty if you do nothing. You can’t leave them hanging, no matter how much you wish you would.

So, with a deep sigh, you push away your anxieties, pick up the nearest notepad to write:

‘Hi.

‘This is your pen pal. I’m sorry if I sound awkward in this letter, I’m not really used to doing this, but I hope we can get on well.

‘I don’t know what to start with, so I guess I’ll just ask some basics?

‘So... what’s your favourite colour? Do you prefer cats or dogs? Tea or coffee? And what do you study here?

‘Alright… I guess that’s enough for now… write back soon if you want to?

‘Okay, bye.’

It’s not the most poetic letter you could come up with, but you can’t think of any better way to word it. Anything else seems too formal, over-produced, so after staring at your own words until they don’t look like words anymore, you fold it over, put it into an envelope and leave your dorm room to post it.

The walk down to the well-being office where the mail box is kept specifically for the pen pal project, seems agonisingly long, with every step giving you an extra second to reconsider, to run back to your room, rip up the letter and leave it in your bin.

It doesn’t make sense to be nervous you tell yourself. It’s all anonymous anyway, so if it doesn’t work out, your partner will never realise it was you that embarrassed yourself in front of them.

By the box, decorated with red and gold tinsel, you heave a resigned sigh and slip the letter in, then scurry back to your dorm, before you reconsider and go back to pull the box open and steal your letter out again.

♡♡♡

Your partner is quick to respond, faster than you had imagined, and your letter arrives by your dorm room the next day, delivered by the welfare officers that are still roaming around the campus over Christmas.

Fingers trembling, not quite sure what you’re expecting, but imagining the worst, like a letter that just tells you how much they hate you without even knowing you – the anonymity leaves a lot of room for people to be rude and cold-hearted - but instead, inside your find a folded piece of paper filled with words, and smelling faintly of cedar cologne.

You unfold the page to read your partners response:

‘Hello, partner!

‘(It feels weird calling you partner, I sound like a cowboy or something, haha! Can I call you by a nickname? You can call me Prince, since we’re meant to be going anonymously. Cheesy name, right? Haha… maybe it’ll make you feel free to chose an equally ridiculous name for yourself… or not...)

‘Anyway, your letter wasn’t awkward at all. Well maybe a little bit, but I honestly liked it that way. I felt like I was talking to a real person, rather than just receiving a formal letter. And we’re still strangers, so it should be awkward at first, haha!

‘To answer your questions: My favourite colour is blue, although pink’s pretty nice too. I prefer dogs, and like coffee over tea, although tea has its charms as well!

‘And I study medicine here… in case you couldn’t tell from my handwriting! (I don’t know why but a lot of people say that medics have bad handwriting, and although I’d like to disagree, my writing’s pretty terrible… so I guess I fall into that stereotype…)

‘I guess I should ask you some questions myself:

‘Why did you sign up for this programme in the first place, and what are you hoping to get out of it?

‘Hmm… I sound like a job interview!

‘Oh well, to lighten the mood, have a joke:

‘To go with the theme of writing letters, it’s about a piece of paper! Should I tell you about it…? Oh, forget it! It’s… TEARable!

‘Haha…

‘Feel free to tear this letter if my jokes frustrate you! I understand…

‘From, the pun prince!

‘Write back soon!’

Despite yourself, you can’t help but chuckle at the joke. You really shouldn’t be finding something like that so funny.

Still, when you pick up a pen to write back, you can’t find it in your heart to tell off your partner for his bad sense of humour:

‘I would never rip up your letter! It was too nice to do something like that to it… even if it was quite cheesy as well (and yes! The nickname Prince is totally cheesy too!)

‘As for nicknames… I don’t know… I quite like you calling me Partner! I read your opening in a cowboy accent, which made it much funnier.

‘Also, as a side note… I don’t find your handwriting bad at all! I could understand it perfectly well!

‘To answer your question… well… to be perfectly honest, I signed up because I was feeling lonely. It’s quite embarrassing, and I would never admit this if it wasn’t anonymous, but I really hate staying at uni over Christmas. I miss my family, and I miss my friends, and there’s nothing I can do to distract myself from the feelings. It’s just a fact, being alone over Christmas sucks… so yeah… I guess what I’m hoping to get out of this is a friend…

‘… maybe saying that makes things awkward for you… and you’ll feel pressure to be nice to me, but don’t worry about that. I just wanted to be honest with you. And I’m glad you’re so nice. I was worried that my partner would be a jerk, but you’re not like that at all, so I’m glad!

‘I hope you write back soon, Prince,

‘All the best, from your Partner.’

With a sigh, you set down your pen and stretch out your cramped hands, unused to writing so much. It feels strangely freeing to unload your stresses onto the page only a stranger will see. Folding your paper to place in an envelope, you head down to the campus welfare office again, ready to sneak your letter into the tinsel sprinkled box. But just as you’re stepping across to it, Jin exits out of the office, carrying his laptop under his arm.

“Oh, hi!” He smiles when he sees you, as you whip your letter behind your back. For a reason not even you can properly explain you don’t want him to see it - despite the fact that the personal worries spilled within the pages are hidden behind the white case of an envelope, protected from his eyes.

“Hello,” you reply, as he closes the office door behind him, “Do you still have welfare duties over the holidays?”

“Yeah, that’s right!” he says, and then gives a nod to the pen pal mail box. “I have to deliver these all over campus.”

“Ah,” you nod your head, not entirely sure what to say. His face is still intimidating to you, so far removed from the reality you’re used to inhabiting, where people live with imperfections. He mustn’t be from this planet, you decide. Those looks aren’t human.

“Actually, the box was my idea,” he says, giving the nape of his neck a scratch, “So I guess it’s only fair that I help with delivering them!”

“You came up with it?”

“Yeah!” he smiles, “I’m pretty proud of it as well. It’s had a lot of positive responses. And I’ve actually been using it myself, you know… since it can get pretty boring during the Christmas holidays.” It’s then that he seems to notice your hands held behind your back, where your letter is still clutched in your fingers.

“Were… you going to use it?” He points to the mailbox.

You panic, floundering with one free hand to wave it in the air, “Ehm, yes! No! Maybe I was…” You bite your lip to shut off your babbling.

“Ah… you want it to be a secret?” Jin asks, and you reply with a quick nod, face flushed. “Alright,” he says, “Then I’ll leave you to deliver it in peace… or, I mean, I’ll leave you to do… whatever it is you’re doing. I have no idea what you’re doing. I saw nothing.” With a wink, he turns and heads down the corridor. At the corner, he gives a wave without looking back, not turning to see you drop your letter into the mailbox.

♡♡♡

A day later, you receive your answer, and quickly sit down on your bed, getting comfy to read it:

‘Dear Partner,

‘I’m glad you found my letter nice enough to not rip up, it fills my heart with warmth!

‘And I’m glad you’re being honest with me! That’s the whole point of this programme - so we can speak truthfully, and admit when we’re not particularly happy, even at a time of year when we’re supposed to be incredibly cheerful. But I can’t be content when I know I’m going to spend the days alone… ah… I wish my friends had stayed in the city over the holidays. I’m pretty lonely myself. It feels odd to admit that because, well… not to sound conceited, but I’m actually quite a popular person. If I say I’m lonely people don’t believe me. But I feel like my problems these holidays are similar to yours, so hopefully you’ll get it.

‘I just wish I had someone to spend Christmas day with…

‘Ah… again… I don’t like ending my letters on a sad note, so here’s another joke from me:

‘What’s the loudest pet you can get?... A trumPET!

‘Haha

‘I hope you write soon, from your local pun Prince!’

By the end of the letter you have a silly smile plastered across your face. Knowing that there’s someone out in the city feeling as lonely as you shrinks your empty feelings by a small fraction, leaving a glowing light in their place that spreads deliciously through your blood stream.

You quickly pick up a pen and notepad to write back:

‘That was a pretty terrible joke, Prince!

‘But I’ll forgive you since the letter made me smile. It’s nice knowing there’s someone out there who understands what I’m feeling.

‘And I wish I had someone to spend Christmas with as well…

‘But a thought just crossed my mind... if you’re popular then I wonder if I’ve heard of you… I doubt you would know of me though, but still, it would be weird if we actually knew each other outside of these letters. The uni campus isn’t that big… we’ve probably seen each other at some point, even if we didn’t realise it! Weird, huh?

‘Anyway, I’m rambling…

‘Write back soon,

‘From your partner!’

♡♡♡

The next day finds you in your favourite café again, sitting with one of the books you’ll be studying next term, and blowing on your coffee to cool it down.

A tinkling of the bell by the door has your head snapping up automatically, and you smile to see Jin entering, bundled up against the cold, with a bag slung across his shoudler.

“Hello,” he smiles, walking over to your table before he even orders anything, “Imagine seeing you here!”

“Hi,” you return.

“What are you reading?”

You show him the front cover, ‘An Introduction to Medieval Poetry’. He wrinkles his nose. “Is it any good?”

You shrug. “It’s a little bit boring, honestly.”

“Great,” he laughs, “I have some pretty boring reading with me as well.” He shows you inside his bag, where he has a couple of books on anatomy. “Would it be okay if I joined you to study? I won’t interrupt or anything…”

You wonder why he would possibly want to sit with you, and then it crosses your mind that maybe, just maybe, even popular boys like Jin can get lonely at Christmas. So you quickly nod your head, and he leaves his bag of textbooks on the chair opposite yours before going up to order a drink.

Just like your pen pal partner, Prince, you realise that it’s possible that Jin isn’t enjoying the holidays, despite his smiling, well-loved face. Yeah… just like Prince…

You glance across at Jin’s blue bag, at the medicine books inside, remember his awful jokes…

And it hits you. Not like the pun Prince. He is the pun Prince.

As Jin sits down across from you, you clamp your lips shut, wondering if you should say something like: “Tada, I’m your partner!”

But you’re held back by a fear of being wrong, of upsetting Jin after all he opened up to you about under the cover of anonymity. Maybe you should remain quiet, leave him to guess for the rest of his life.

As he works opposite you, you find yourself glancing across to check the writing in his notebook. Messy. Like a stereotypical medic. Your heart picks up its pace inside your chest, and although you choose to blame the coffee for your palpitations, you know it has more to do with the man sitting across from you.

As the day drags on outside, sky shifting from frozen blue to dusky pink to deep navy while the lights flicker on in the streets outside, still snowless, you calm your heart, continue reading, and leave Jin oblivious.

When the café workers begin making their rounds to let you know that they will be closing in the next ten minutes, you and Jin both pack up your books, leaving your coffee cups, emptied ages ago, on the table.

“Hey,” Jin begins as you both step out into the freezing air, “Would it be okay if we did this again sometime?”

“What? Like a study date?” you ask, and then flush at your use of the word ‘date’, “Uh… I didn’t mean… just, like… do you mean to meet up and study again?”

His cheeks look red in the glow of the city’s Christmas lights, but that might just be the bite of the cold. “Yeah… that’s what I meant.” He hesitates, and then says, “You know… just… it gets a bit boring by myself.”

You nod, with the unspoken agreement that you’re both lonely, and in need of some company. “It would be lovely to do this again,” you say.

“Same time tomorrow?”

“Same time tomorrow.”

♡♡♡

The day after, you wake up to yet another letter, written in the scrawl you now know to be Jin’s:

‘Hi Partner,’

‘Update on my loneliness: I’ve someone to study with now. Which is nice! Haha. It’s good to have company. But that still leaves you alone... Actually, to be honest, I’d really love to meet you myself. After all that we’ve talked about, I feel I know you quite well… of course… I know that defeats the whole purpose of staying anonymous… but I want to know who you are, what you’re like. I want to hear you say these things to me, rather than read them off a page. I want to know you.

‘… maybe I shouldn’t say this, but since we’re being honest here… is it bad that I think I might like you? Like, as more than a friend I mean?’

You almost drop the letter, as if it caught on fire in your hands. The words ‘like… as more than a friend’ shine out from the page, overpowering every other sentence. You don’t know what to feel, or think, or do. Jin thinks he likes you. And he doesn’t even know you… or at least doesn't know that his partner is you. Maybe it’s all a joke. Maybe it’s another silly pun of his. If you read on there’ll be a punchline to punch you in the heart, and all this will be a massive overreaction. You take a shaky breath and continue reading:

‘Maybe it’s just because you’re the first person I’ve opened up to about being so lonely, and how stressful it is being popular, and maybe it’s because I feel deeply thankful to have you in my life… but on the other hand, maybe this thankfulness is itself a part of what love is.

‘Sorry. I’ve never actually been in love, so I don’t know what it’s like. I’m just going off what I’ve heard from friends and what I’ve seen in films… so maybe I’m wrong here…

‘I hope that you don’t feel angry reading this. But since you’re the one person I can be honest with… I figured I could tell you this as well.

‘Haha… you probably don’t want to meet me after that. Maybe you don’t want to even write back… but I’m glad I opened up to you. My chest feels lighter now,

‘From your Prince!

‘PS. I thought maybe a joke at the end would be inappropriate this time. It might ruin the tone. I hope you can forgive the lack of puns.’

You set the letter down on your desk and stare at it for a long time, the words ‘like you’ staring back. Your heart is thumping furiously in your chest, but the rest of you feels numb. You don’t know what emotions you should be experiencing. Jin loves you. It’s not a joke. No pun intended here. He really thinks he loves you. Or at least, he thinks he loves the version of you he discovered in your letters. Your brain flickers through all of this, trying to pick the correct response, but there is none: not happiness because you’re loved, not fear because you might not be what Jin wants, not anger because he destroyed the comfortable relationship you had in your letters. There is no response.

You sit down with a pen and notepad and begin your letter fourteen different ways, and none of them seem suitable, so you crumple them up, and leave them in the bin.

♡♡♡

That afternoon is your scheduled ‘study date’ with Jin, although it’s not a real date you tell yourself. You both established that.

But if Jin knew who you were, if he realised you were his ‘Partner’ would he want it to be a proper date?

You reach the café with your heart in your throat to see Jin waiting there, looking handsome as always. His letter still burns in your mind, and you wonder if he can see through you when you arrive, how your cheeks burn, how you notice little things about him that never struck you before – like the soft curve of his cheeks that contrast to a sharp-cut jawline, like the delicateness in his dark eyelashes, and the gentleness in his manners that makes your lungs flutter with fresh air rushing in.

This man thinks he loves you. And you think there’s something stirring inside you in return.

The thought makes you want to run. But to him, or from him… you can’t decide.

Instead, you approach at a normal speed and raise a hand in greeting.

“Hi!” he smiles at you, “I was worried you might not show up.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you say, “I just… got a little distracted.” Distracted by fourteen drafts of a letter never sent.

Jin holds the café door open for you, and you step into the fresh smell of coffee. Your study time feels a lot different today. Whereas yesterday you spent your time absorbed in your book, now, every few sentences you feel the urge to look up at Jin, see him smiling your way, and, embarrassed, bounce your gaze away again.

You’re all the more aware of what he’s doing across from you, every time he shifts his position, crossing his legs and uncrossing them, resting his cheek in his palm sometimes. Every little movement is distracting.

By the time evening has settled in and you’re leaving the café to part ways once more, you’ve come to a realisation a lot scarier than Jin’s confession to you – that you might actually like him back.

You debate with yourself the whole way home, but by the time you arrive at your dorm, you know you like a lot more than just his looks.

♡♡♡

When you arrive back at your room, you pick up your pen and notebook again, ready to finally return his answer.

‘Hello Prince,

‘I feel that since you were honest with me, I should be honest with you as well… I know who you are. What I mean is… I know that you’re Kim Seokjin, prince of the university with your broad shoulders and your good looks. It took me a while to figure it out, although I guess your nickname should have given you away!

‘And I should add that I think I like you as well. But I don’t think you like who I am in real life… not the way you described in your letter.

‘I hope you can figure out who I am, because I know I’m not brave enough to tell you myself… I’m scared you’ll give me up once you know who I am. Pathetic, huh? But we’re being honest here, and I’m honestly pathetic.

‘I hope you can uncover me, because I can’t do it myself. Figure out who’s behind these pages, and still love me,

‘From your Partner

‘Good luck.’

♡♡♡

When you meet Jin for your next study date (you don’t even try to correct the word ‘date’ in your mind anymore, they are practically dates, the hurricane in your heart tells you as much) you’re nervous to know if he’s you figured out, or if he’s still oblivious.

As you both set out your books on the table next to your cups of coffee, you notice some papers poking out from one of Jin’s folders, and recognise your own handwriting on the pages. While you continue on with Medieval poetry, you can’t help but steal glances at Jin, to see that he’s not studying his anatomy textbooks, but is instead frowning at your most recent letter, blinking his long-lashed eyes and furrowing his brows.

When he catches you staring, he quickly covers over the letter with his text book pages and pretends to be invested in the chambers of the heart diagrammed on the page.

Seeing him struggle, you want to give him a hint. But you also don’t want to make it obvious. You sit, pretending to focus on your book, but instead wondering how you can possibly give yourself away without giving yourself away.

But as the day passes with the sky getting darker, Jin frowning over the poem hasn’t yielded any results and you have no idea what to say to him.

As you leave the café once more, ready to go your separate ways, you turn back to Jin, as he asks, “So… can we be study partners again tomorrow?”

Which gives you the perfect opportunity to give him the last puzzle piece he’s been missing, “I’m always happy to be your Partner,” you tell him with a smile, and then, quickly, before he can make the realisation, you turn around with a brisk wave, and walk fast towards your accommodation, trying your best not to slip on the frozen ground, and trying not to blush furiously.

♡♡♡

There’s no letters the next day. You keep checking at your door all morning, thinking it’s arrived late, but there’s no more responses from Jin, and your thoughts start scurrying to anxiety, worrying that he’s given up on you.

But you still have a chance to see him at the café, and you wonder if he’ll mention something then. Yet, when you arrive, he’s the same as always, awkwardly smiling at you over his textbooks, and telling bad jokes to make you feel better when you get too stressed. Nothing seems to have changed, except the lack of letters.

That’s how the next couple of days go, no response, and a lot of study dates, and Christmas creeping ever closer.

The whole thing is driving you crazy. Does Jin know? Or doesn’t he? As you slip into the final days before Christmas, you decide that you need to tell him face to face – explain who you really are. It was never fair to expect him to recognise you and the person you were in your letters, since you weren’t nearly as honest in real life as you were in the secrecy of the folded pages. While you complained of boredom in the cafe, you worried about loneliness in your letters, coding all your feelings to his face, but spilling them honestly in ink. It’s time you told the truth without a pen to guide you.

When you meet him at the café on Christmas Eve, you ask, “Would it be okay if we didn’t study today?”

He blinks at you, and you continue to explain, “I mean… it’s Christmas Eve. We really shouldn’t be working on today of all days. Besides… I haven’t seen the Christmas tree in the park yet. We need to go see it.”

For an awful moment, you worry he’s going to refuse because he only wants to study, and he’s really not interested in your company at all. But then he nods, and slides his arm through yours, “Lead the way.”

With his warmth against yours, arm wound around your own, you wonder if you look like a couple, walking together, huddled close against the cold. The thought is enough to fight off the iciness in your numb cheeks and nose, as blood rushes up below your skin.

You need to tell him. You can’t go on like this. Going on almost dates, almost being a couple – it will drive you to insanity. But speaking up now seems wrong, the mood isn’t right, and if Jin doesn’t like you the way you like him, if your confession sends him away, then you want to enjoy your last day with him, stretching it out for as long as possible.

So as you walk through the icy streets, pointing out pretty, festive displays in shop windows, and winding your way towards the city park, you take these moments to appreciate all you have with Jin. You enjoy his smile, his high-pitched laugh, his terrible jokes, his gentlemanly manners, his care and concern, and all the loneliness that he drove away over these normally empty holidays.

Before you know it, you’re standing in front of the tree in the centre of the park, staring up at the star high above you, at the candy-canes and glitter tinsel swathing the branches.

Now. You need to say it now, or you’ll never say it. You glance over at Jin, who’s looking back to you. His dark eyes are still a shock to your nervous system, making your body react with pumping endorphins and rushing blood.

Your mouth feels stuck shut, which is just as well, since Jin’s already talking:

“Actually, I’m glad we didn’t go to the café today,” he says, “It gives me a chance to ask you something that maybe I should have asked you a while ago…”

You’re left to stare at him while he continues on, whirling around possibilities in your head.

“You see…” he says, “I’ve suspected that you’re my pen pal partner for a while… stop me if I’m wrong here… but ever since I saw you dropping the letter in the welfare mailbox, the though crossed my mind, and then when you told me that you knew who I was I was pretty convinced, but there was still a lot of worry that maybe I made a mistake. And that maybe I’d scare you off if I mentioned it as a possibility… I’m sorry, but I just wanted to keep this going a bit longer, wanted you to stay by my side and meet up with me for study dates… so I kept quiet. It was so nice to have you there for me, both face-to-face, and in your letters, and I worried that if I brought up anything more serious than just friendship I’d scare you away. But the reason our letters worked so well was because we were honest with each other… and I know I need to be honest again. So I’ll go ahead and tell you… I like you. I like you a whole lot. I like you so much. And, it’s probably wrong of me, but I’ve been thinking of these times that we meet up to study as actual dates…”

He takes a breath after his long ramble, mist sighing from his lips in the winter air.

Your brain tells you that you should respond, but you don’t know what to say, or rather, you don’t know how to give voice to all of the feelings in your heart. So instead, you grab onto his scarf and pull his lips down to meet your own, letting your body do the talking for once, rather than your pen.

♡ END ♡

Author’s note: We all know Jin is the pun prince :’) Sorry if this was super cheesy and self-indulgent! I couldn’t help it.

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b-does-the-write-thing · 7 years

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top 5 and bottom 5 kudo’d fic

Showing up five days later with starbucks but thanks to @thescholarlystrumpet. @nerdrumple, @thatravenclawbitch and of course @prissyhalliwell for tagging me. I’m pretty sure I know the top five fic but not too sure about the bottom five...

Top 5

The Story Teller Kudos: 713 Long ago, the Dark One made a deal to protect the Middle Kingdom from Ogres in exchange for a bride. However, each year, the bride has been returned as a corpse and another taken away. When Lady Belle is sacrificed to save her kingdom, she finds her love of stories may just keep her alive.

This is the fic that is always surprising me. I posted it and within twenty four hours it had more kudos than all my other fics combined. To this day, I have no idea where exactly it’s going but every time I revisit it, there’s some new twist that I even didn’t see coming. (I know, I know bad author)

The House Guest Kudos: 564 When Belle "Lacey" French accidentally summons the "Dark One", she finds herself with an unwanted roommate. Life with a demon isn't all it's cracked up to be and things spiral out of control. Secrets about her heritage, her town, and her friends come to light as she struggles to find where she belongs.

This one started out because Prissy send in a prompt, and then another one, and then four more and then some more people started sending in prompts and the stupid demon for a roommate story ended up being an exercise in world building, character development, and writing for an ensemble. Finished it last year and while it doesn’t get a lot of attention due to it being Lacey-centric, I enjoyed every second of writing this.

The Gate Kudos: 222 Something is not quite right about the small town of Storybrooke. When Lacey French goes undercover to discover the scoop that could jump start her career, she herself disappears into a magical world known as Fae. With only the protection of a questionable sorcerer, Lacey must survive a year in the world of Fae's nine kingdoms where nothing is as it seems. Amidst magic, romance, mythical creatures and courtly intrigues, Lacey learns sometimes it's not always just the monsters who can change.

I’ve just noticed that most of my fics have a pretty hefty kudos drop....1st to 2nd is almost 150 and 2nd to third is nearly 350! So, this was my very first fic in the fandom, and led me to the fandom here on tumblr. Another Lacey centric, and a massive world building exercise, it’s my closest to an actual novel. Sadly, it doesn’t get too much attention these days, but I’m hoping to get back to it come NaNoWriMo (famous last words)

The Heart of Avonlea Kudos: 181 Lady Belle is more interested in learning to rule her lands and care for her people than worrying about love or marriage. Yet, when her father declares she must wed, Avonlea is flooded with potential suitors for the famous beauty.When the infamous Dark One arrives in Avonlea to throw his hat in the ring in order to claim a mystical treasure, they form an uneasy alliance to get what they both want- only to discover what they never dreamed of in each other.

Actually was kind of surprised by this one being #4! This was a Rumbelle Secret Santa gift and it’s a sweet little fairy tale.

Stutterer Kudos: 141 Due to his stutter, Robert Gold has a hard time making himself understood...except with his online pen pal Belle French. Yet when an opportunity arises for them to meet, Gold isn't sure if he's ready.

Based off the oscar winning short by the same name, I took a beautiful story and rumbelled it. A sequel is promised but I haven’t quite gotten around to it...too nervous to not do credit to the original!

Bottom 5

(Dropping this under a cut due to length)

Beyond the Gate Kudos: 16 One Shot Prompts from the Gate

Not surprising- probably incorporate these into the story one day.

Sweet Sorrow Kudos: 29 Belle packing her bags to leave Storybrooke and Rumple finding her

Just a sweet/sad prompt fill from a while back

Relapse Kudos: 37 Anon asked for Angst based on Carrie Underwood's Relapse

Another prompt fill but this is one i really relate to, based off when Belle sends Rumple away Cooking for Two Kudos: 37 Belle cooks for the first time. It’s not what Rumple expects…

Same prompt fill as the two above

From Hell Itself Kudos: 39 The town of Storybrooke has always been strange. It's counterpart in the Underworld is no less strange and Hades, Lord of the Dead, is growing vastly sick of dealing with it.

Crack fic about Season 6′s arc but seeing how I was so far behind on canon, this was just weird.

Okay, if anyone has NOT done this yet, send me a note and I’ll tag you <3

I assumed my top five would be my major WiPs which isn’t actually the case as I have two one shots on there and I didn’t really think about what would be my lowest rated fics, but some short tumblr prompts isn’t surprising.

#rumbelle fic #kudo meter #a03 challenge #b does the write thing

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docandprof · 7 years

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Why Do I Struggle With Love?

Salutations mi amigo!

Sorry it’s been like a month since we have done this. I miss this and I feel like every time I wanna tell you something I just say, “wait until the post“, but then I feel like I forget stuff that I wanted to tell you. So here is me just trying to say that I am trying to work on being a better pen pal and recommitting to weekly posts. SO there is definitely some stuff that I have to get into. Let’s catch up!

Since I last posted, I think I was going through a big week of midterms of something, and I just wanted to update you on how I'm doing as a student. Classes are fun, still enjoying what I chose to do. My last organic chemistry test was pretty rough for the class as a whole. The average was a 64%. But I did pulled a 76% and I'm super proud of that because although she doesn't curve tests, here actual class is curved, so add 10-15% to you tests and that is your score, which brings be to a B - A- grade! I know it seems pretty silly to be proud of getting a C on an exam, but I see myself improving and competing with my friends who are doing very well and that is what matters to me. History is a breeze, probably because I enjoy it so much. Just took a rough first test of the semester in my Biological Clocks class and the entire class was lost on what was going on so hopefully we didn't all fail. Otherwise yeah, its going great!

Nothing else has really been going on any differently since we last posted, at least outside of my relationships. For my birthday, as you know, a couple friends and I went real camping in the Black Mountains of North Carolina. We stayed for a couple days and one day we hiked Mount Mitchell, which is the tallest peak east of the Mississippi River. It was a brutal vertical hike that took like 4 hours up and maybe 3 hours down, bu the view was gorgeous and well worth the pain. It was kinda fun towards the end because we had to hike in the dark, and I mean DARK, with nothing but a flashlight for each of us to shine about a foot in front of us so we didn't trip and fall down the mountain. So I really enjoyed that time camping out under the stars and I really wanna do something like that with you and the gang just to have a group experience like that. Other than that, I helped out with MUN last weekend and it was my first time ever in that type of setting, but I really enjoyed helping these high schoolers get what they wanted accomplished. But other than those two things, nothing to note. To the juicy parts now?

Love, love, what is love? So I left you off with a bunch of mixed emotions and no idea where to go with them, helplessly drowning in an ocean of my unresolved romantic angst and turmoil. But I think I have navigated my way to some resemblance of an answer...kinda. As you know, I was caught between 3 “options”. 1) the girl I had a crush on since meeting her last year 2) the girl who I consider one of my closest friends here at school and 3) her best friend who also happens to be an exact copy of me in almost every facet of life but goes to another school. I thought I would have to start choosing and eliminating to find what I wanted, but life, and ultimately God, saw to it that my options just kinda presented themselves to me. So girl 1 just kinda fell away because in all reality, I never see her and don't have any interaction with, so it’s kinda hard to cultivate a relationship with someone you never even see or talk to. From girl 2, although she has never said anything to me and nothing has changed in our relationship, I just don't have THAT feeling with her. She makes me happy and laugh and smile, and I want to do the same for her, but it’s almost how it is with our shared sister Alyssa, we both love her to death and want to make her happy, but we don't do it out of romance. Now this is not to say that I wont ever see girl 2 in this way, but as of right now, I'm a little preoccupied with THE girl. Uuummm....girl 3, her name is Jaynie, is really all that I think about on a daily basis. I don't remember what the state of our relationship was at the time of my last post, but I can definitely tell you it is not the same anymore. I think I talk to her the most out of anyone. She talks to me and tells me more things than she does even for her best friend, who is girl 2, and it’s now a running joke that if anyone wants to know something about her, they ask me instead of Nidhi, even Nidhi does this! I honestly think that Jaynie is the coolest person I have ever met, and I'm best friends with you! A couple weeks back, she may have said the coolest sentence I have ever heard. She told me that she was looking through all of the Star Wars movies to find this one sentence that she thought was Thai, because she is learning Thai at school. I mean common?! Huge Star Wars nerd who is learning an awesome language!! And so we Snapchat all the time and text and I will call her sometimes to get her opinion on what kind of candy I want to eat at that moment (no joke I called her in the middle of the night to ask her what candy I wanted). She even wants to meet my parents!! Like her own words were, “I cant wait to meet your mom”. So I was really super excited to see her over fall break for my birthday because we were all going camping and it was gonna be awesome, but she couldn't come because she decided to dedicate her break to going down to Houston with CRU (a Christian organization that we have here at school too) to go do volunteering. And while I was bummed, I couldn't have been any more awed and proud to know someone who would do that. And that brings us to this weekend. As you know, Friday we went to go see Moon Taxi (which I will tell you about a little bit later on in this romance novel I am writing). Now Moon Taxi is Nidhi and Jaynie’s favorite band and Nidhi got her a ticket to sit with us at the concert for her birthday, so I was sooooo excited for this weekend to come. Now sad part first, she got in at like 6:30 on Friday night, but she had to leave this morning (Saturday) at like 11am because her grandparents were back at home and she wanted to go see them. So we only got like a couple hours together. But they were an awesome couple hours. We kept counting down the days til we got to see each other to keep motivated during the week, and when we finally got to see each other, we were so happy. It had been raining and her one foot just got soaked, so I let her wear my shoe to keep her warm, as any gentleman should, and she actually wore it! Like what girl wears a boy’s shoe when he offers it? This girl does!!! I know what you are thinking, Aaron this is so stupid, and both of you are weird, which is EXACTLY my point!! So when Moon Taxi came out on stage, it was my friends, me, Jaynie, and NIdhi sitting in a row. But Nidhi’s view was obstructed by a pole and a person. So I shifted down to the end to let her have a better view to see her favorite band. But when I moved, I wasn't sitting next to Jaynie anymore, just Nidhi, which kinda bummed me out but I accepted because I wanted her to have a good time. But to my surprise, and happiness, Jaynie leaned over to Nidhi and asked her to switch spots with her so she could be by me! Like you have no idea how high my heart jumped. We just spent the night singing along to all the songs and freaking out and being weirdos with each other and I would just look over at her and smile while she enjoyed herself. But you are gonna kill because I never made a move and I never went to hold her hand or anything and I really regret it but you know that I have troubles telling my feelings to someone for fear of getting rejected. So the night ended and we were good but that was that. Until the morning. I made sure to be awake before she left so I could say good bye, and I also promised her a few weeks ago that I would make her some mac and cheese for breakfast. So I did that and us two and the Nidster were hanging out for a bit before she had to leave and I just couldn't help but feel like she had the same feelings I was having. We were being all tickle-y and she let me rest my hand on her knee and it wasn't weird or uncomfortable. Even Nidhi was looking at the two of us smiling and when I gave her that “What?!“ look, she just smiled and said “nothing“. When she left it sucked to see her go and I ALMOST told her how I feel before she left but I couldn't bring myself to do it because I was so scared!! I can’t help but feel like the look she gave me when I stopped her to say goodbye one last time was looking for me to make a move or say SOMETHING, but I'm a weenie and I couldn't do it. But it’s pretty obvious that I'm head over heels for this girl and some of my friends can see it and were watching the two of us interact over the time she was here. I mean what do I do man? I wanna cry for how stupid I'm being, but I'm just afraid to put it out there and lose it. But I know that is what it has to come to. There is other love drama going on in our group too, but I can save that for another post, I have beat this dead horse for too long.

To wrap up, in our normal tradition, my recommendation is to listen to the opening band for Moon Taxi. They are called Too Many Zooz and they are FUNKALICIOUS!! I recommend watching them on YouTube as well just to see to see how cool they are. Moon Taxi was awesome, by the way! Last Jaynie mention for the post, she made me this awesome drawing for my fridge in my room, so when you wake up, there will be a picture on your phone from me of the drawing and this is why its there. Question: What is your ideal Halloween costume? And be creative! I know you have something deep in your mind you can come up with. Alright, sorry for the epic I just told you, but I had to get it off my chest and I tell you everything so there ya go. Big ol pile of plot dump on ya in one sitting. Love you bud and can’t wait to hear back from you.

Your best bud,

The Doc

#isuckatexpressingmyfeelings #takingwaytolongtotellastory #missedthisandyou

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