Lovely Supporter, I Hope This Message Finds You And Your Family In Good Health And High Spirits.

I SWEAR ITS BECAUSE OF THAT ONE IDIA I GOT IN THE FIRST SINGLEPULL 😭😭😭☹️☹️🤬🤬😡

─Cold Espresso

∘₊✧─── ❀ ───✧₊∘

★ Pairing: Fiddleford McGucket x Reader

✦ Genre: Fluff? Friends to Not-Yet-Lovers???

★ Warning: None

✦ Summary: You and your old buddy from college decided to meet up at the usual coffee shop you two used to visit. Though I don't think neither the two of you planned for something to go in another way you didn't expect..

Note: I feel like he doesn't get much lovee and I think hes adorable. Im not sure what the title should be so..

The café is just as you remember it. The brick exterior hasn’t aged a day, and the sign that reads "Becky's Brews" still hangs slightly crooked above the door. You stand outside for a moment, taking in the familiar scene, and a wave of nostalgia washes over you. It’s been years since you last set foot here, and longer still since you shared this space with McGucket. The memories come rushing back, a collage of late-night study sessions and laughter echoing through these very walls.

Pushing the door open, you’re greeted by the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The inside hasn’t changed much either—the same warm lighting, the mismatched furniture that somehow feels cohesive, and the old jukebox in the corner that’s always playing a tune just loud enough to be heard, but not so loud as to intrude on conversations.

You scan the room, and there he is—Fiddleford McGucket, sitting at your usual table by the window, just like old times. He looks up as you approach, and a grin spreads across his face as he waved you over.

"Well, if it ain’t the ol’ bookworm ‘emself!" he exclaims, standing up to give you a hug. His accent, thick and unmistakably Southern, wraps around you like a warm blanket. You’ve always loved the way he talks, the way his words roll off his tongue with a drawl that’s both comforting and endearing.

"Hey, Fidds," you reply, smiling as you embrace him. His arms are tight 'round you, and for a moment, you’re transported back to those carefree college days when everything seemed simpler, when your biggest worry was acing the next exam or deciding where to grab lunch.

"You ain’t changed a bit," he says adjusting his glasses as you both sit down. "Still got that same ol’ smile, too. How’s life been treatin’ ya?"

You chuckle, feeling a bit shy under his gaze. "Life’s been... different. Busy, mostly. How about you?"

Fidds leans back in his chair, he fixed his glasses as his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Busy’s one way to put it. Ain’t nothin’ too excitin’, but I’ve been gettin’ by. Missed this place, though. Missed hangin’ out with you."

His words catch you off guard, and you feel a warmth spread through your chest. You’ve missed him too, more than you realized.

"I missed you too, Fidds. It’s been way too long."

He nods, a serious expression crossing his face. "Yeah, it has. Too damn long. But we’re here now, ain’t we? Let’s make the most of it."

For the next hour, the two of you fall into an easy rhythm, slipping back into the kind of banter that only old friends share. You talk about everything—your jobs, your families, the places you’ve been, the things you’ve seen. Fidds tells you about what he'd been working on; how he spends his days in his garage, creating techs; how well hes actually getting by, getting a job offering at some place. You tell him about your career, the ups and downs, and how you’ve been searching for something more, though you’re not quite sure what that "more" is.

As the conversation flows, you find yourself noticing things about Fiddleford that you hadn’t paid much attention to before. The way his eyes light up when he talks about something he’s passionate about, the way his hands move when he gestures, the sound of his laughter—it’s all so familiar, yet somehow different. There’s a spark between you, something unspoken but palpable, and it catches you off guard.

"So," Fidds drawls, leaning forward with a playful grin, "anyone special in your life these days? Or are ya still too busy chasin’ that dream of yours?"

The question hangs in the air for a moment, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

"No, no one special," you reply, trying to sound casual. "I’ve been too focused on work, I guess."

Fidds raises an eyebrow. "Really now? Ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’ ambitious, but a pretty thing like you, I reckon you could have anyone you wanted if ya tried."

You laugh, though your cheeks flush slightly at the compliment. "I could say the same about you, Fidds. What about you? Anyone special?"

He shrugs, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. "Nah, no one right now. Haven’t found the right person, I suppose. But who knows, maybe I just ain’t been lookin’ in the right places."

His words linger in the air, and for the first time, you feel a shift in the atmosphere. The easygoing conversation between old friends suddenly feels charged with something more, something you hadn’t anticipated. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but there’s a tension now, a pull that you can’t ignore.

The afternoon sun filters through the window, casting a warm glow over the table. Fidds’s gaze locks onto yours, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. There’s a question in his eyes, something he’s holding back, and you can feel the weight of it pressing against the silence.

Finally, he breaks the moment with a soft chuckle, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts. "Well, look at us, gettin’ all serious. We’re supposed to be catchin’ up, not diggin’ into each other’s love lives."

You smile, though your mind is still racing. "Yeah, you’re right. Let’s not get too deep, huh?"

But even as you say it, you know that something has changed between you and Fidds. The old friendship is still there, but there’s something new too—something that makes your heart beat a little faster, something that leaves you wondering what might happen if you both stopped holding back.

────

The afternoon drifts into evening as the conversation between you and Fidds meanders through old memories and new musings. The light outside has dimmed, and the soft, warm glow of the café's hanging lights creates a cozy atmosphere that wraps around the two of you like a blanket. As you talk, the world outside seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this little bubble of familiarity and something... more.

Fiddleford leans back in his chair, tipping it slightly as he balances on the two back legs, a mischievous grin on his face. "Remember that time we tried sneakin’ into the library after hours? You were so dead set on gettin’ that book for your paper, and I was just along for the ride."

You laugh, shaking your head at the memory. "How could I forget? We almost got caught by campus security. I thought we were going to get expelled or something."

"Aw, shucks," Fiddleford drawls, his grin widening, "they wouldn’t’ve expelled ya. You were their star student. Now me, on the other hand… they probably wouldn’t’ve batted an eye if I’d just disappeared."

"Don’t say that," you chide, though you know he’s joking. "You were always smarter than you gave yourself credit for."

His expression softens, and he gives you a look that’s half-teasing, half-serious. "Yeah, well, it’s easier to believe that when you got someone like you around. You always made me feel like I could do more, be more."

You don’t know how to respond to that. There’s an intensity in his eyes that’s different from the playful banter you’re used to. It’s as if he’s seeing you in a way he never has before, and you can’t help but wonder if you’re seeing him differently too.

The conversation lulls, and the silence between you is thick with unspoken words. Fidds takes a deep breath, his chair coming back down to all four legs as he leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. He’s closer now, close enough that you can see your own reflection in his eyes.

"Can I tell ya somethin’?" he asks, his voice low, almost hesitant.

You nod, your heart starting to race again. "Yeah.. Sure? What is it?"

Fidds looks down at his hands, fidgeting with the edge of the napkin in front of him. When he looks back up, there’s a vulnerability in his gaze that you’ve never seen before. "I’ve been thinkin’ about this for a while now... and, well, maybe it’s just the nostalgia talkin’, but… I think I missed more than just our friendship."

The words hang in the air between you, and your breath catches in your throat. You don’t know what to say, but the way he’s looking at you makes it clear that he’s waiting for some kind of response.

Before you can find the words, the door to the café opens with a jingle, breaking the moment. A group of people walk in, laughing and chatting as they find a table near the counter. The noise disrupts the moment, and you see Fidds pull back slightly, the intensity in his eyes dimming as if he’s suddenly unsure of himself.

You’re unsure too. There’s a part of you that wants to reach across the table, to take his hand and tell him that you feel the same way, that maybe there’s something more between you than just friendship. But there’s also a part of you that’s scared—scared of what this could mean, of what might happen if you cross that line.

Fidds clears his throat, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "Maybe I’m just talkin’ nonsense. We’ve had a lot of good times, haven’t we? I’m just glad we’re still in each other’s lives."

You can see the effort he’s putting into pulling back, into pretending that the moment didn’t happen. But it did, and now the air between you feels different, charged with the possibilities of what could be.

Before you can decide what to do next, Fidds stands up, stretching his arms above his head as he brushed his fingers in his hair. "Whew, it’s gettin’ late. How ‘bout we head out? Walk ya to your car?"

You blink, surprised by how quickly the conversation has turned, but you find yourself nodding. "Yeah─ Yeah, sure. That sounds good."

The two of you gather your things and head for the door. The evening air is cool against your skin as you step outside, and you walk in silence for a few moments, your mind racing with everything that’s been left unsaid.

When you reach your car, Fidds turns to you, his hands shoved into his pockets. He looks at you for a long moment, as if he’s trying to decide whether to say something or let it go.

Finally, he speaks, his voice soft. "I meant what I said back there. I’ve missed more than just our friendship. But... I ain’t gonna push ya into somethin’ you’re not ready for. Just... uh.. think about it, okay?"

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. "I will.. I promise."

He smiles, a small, almost sad smile, and then he steps back, giving you a little wave. "Night, then. We’ll talk soon?"

"Yeah," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "We’ll talk soon."

As you watch him walk away, a thousand thoughts swirl in your mind. The possibility of something more between you and Fiddleford is real, and it terrifies you as much as it excites you. You know that whatever happens next, things between you will never be the same.

You get into your car, your hands trembling slightly as you grip the steering wheel. For a long moment, you just sit there, staring out the windshield at the fading figure of Fidds as he walks down the street. And then, just as he’s about to turn the corner and disappear from view, you make a decision. You open the car door and step out, your heart racing as you call out his name.

He stops, turning around to look at you, his expression unreadable.

"Fidds," you say, your voice trembling with emotion, "I—"

But before you can finish, the sound of your phone ringing cuts through the night, startling you both. You glance down at the screen, recognizing the name of your boss flashing across it.

You hesitate, torn between answering the call and the words you were about to say. Fidds watches you, waiting, the moment hanging in the balance.

And just like that, the decision is taken out of your hands. You silence the phone, looking back at Fidds, but the spell is broken.

"I... I’ll call you," you manage to say, knowing that the conversation will have to wait.

Fidds nods, a flicker of something like hope in his eyes. "Yeah... sure thing. Take care, okay?"

You watch as he turns and walks away, the opportunity slipping through your fingers. And as you stand there, alone in the quiet of the night, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve just might've let something important slip away.

Sooo.. How was it?? Good? bad? Feel like I didn't do him much justice (.∘ˊ◠ˋ∘.)

If this get enough notes I'll maybe continue it?? Oh, I also changed the layout a bit, if you did notice :D

Thoughts and criticisms are welcomed, as it would help me improve on my writing!

DEAR FANFICTION WRITERS

Thanks for existing

Myy backk hurtsss soo badd.. and i have no motivation to doo nothinn.. (ㄒ︵ㄒ)

𖦹 Unfolded | Chapter 2

★ CHARACTER ─ Tim Wright

✦ GENRE ─ Fluff??

★ WARNING ─ None

✦ SUMMARY ─ You returned, pleading for a friend. Someone to talk to, someone to relate. Tim then finds the note, and decided to respond because.. why not?

Note: I want this to be a slowburn? But I am sooo Impatient.. So I feel like im just writing the same thing over and over NOO (´△｀)

You walked on the path where you were before. You had returned, back to the secluded spot under the large tree; feeling a sense of familiarity and comfort. Once more, you settled down amongst the fallen leaves and opened your notebook. This time, thoughts were filled with a full mix of emotions, including loneliness and a longing for connection.

You stare off into the distance, wondering. A thought ran through your head, you then began to write. But then you stopped, why did you stop? You paused for a moment and looked around, taking in the quiet beauty of the forest. The sun was still high in the sky, and yet casting an orange shadow throughout the forest, shimmering on the ground.

You began writing once again, yet this time you wrote something a bit different than your normal. Usually you'd be writing about your day, your feelings, and your thoughts, but rather than your usual, this time you wrote one sentence that made you hesitate. You were unsure, why? You didn't know. Putting aside your worry, you continued writing.

You thought of it for a moment, debating in your thoughts once more. Though Another thought came to mind, as you wrote another sentence at the bottom of the paragraph.

Finished writing, you then leaned back on the dark tree bark. This time you had felt more nervous about what you had written, and yet there was something about it that made you feel some relief; as if you were letting something out of you. Your thoughts and feelings were written on the page; maybe a small doodle will make the message more friendly? as if someone will read it, you thought. But you were still nervous about the thought of someone reading them. You wrote a small sentence in the bottom left of the note. You left it right there as you packed up your things, hoping someone who finds it will maybe talk to you..

Tim continued on his nightly walk through the forest. Though, it was still noon, the sky still bright, the sun has yet to set, chill starting to settle with the slowly falling night. His thoughts were scattered and weary, as he let his feet move him along the familiar path.

He was deep in thought; when his gaze flickered downwards, spotting something on the ground. As he got closer, recognition filled him; a note. Had it been the same person? He thought. Kneeling down to picked it up, as his curiosity piqued. He then unfolded it, eyes scanned the words written on the page.

He began to read the words carefully, absorbing the contents written on the page. The message was personal, an expression of loneliness and a longing for connection. It was written in the same handwriting as before, but this time, the tone was different. It felt more open and vulnerable, as if the writer was reaching out, seeking a response.

Tim didn't know what to make out of it. Feeling intrigued, he continued reading. But as he reached the end, two additional sentences caught his attention. The words seemed to convey a sense of loneliness and longing for connection, written in a messy yet desperate script. Tim read the note intently, feeling a slight pang of sympathy for the person who wrote it.

Curiosity gripped him, wondering who could have left this. It had to be the same person, he thought, as he read through it once more, taking in the words and messy but neat handwriting. It looks familiar, he thought. He looks around, looking for a clue once again, as he reads,

"I sit alone in the abyss of silence, aside from the melodic singing song of the birds. As time goes on, thoughts of loneliness and longing fill my mind. No one to speak to, no one to relate to. The weight of aloneness is too much to bear, and I know that all I can do, is sit here, just waiting for the day that I'll have the courage to reach out, and look for company, look for friends." He finished reading the first page, flipping the back to see just incase. And he sure was right, there was another, that reads.

"I seek refuge in the forest, it's the only safe space I have left. Surrounded by trees, plants, and nature, it offers me some comfort in this cold, vast world. I often find myself quietly pleading to god for a friend. Someone who could understand my struggles, be there for me. My heart longs for companionship, for someone who could be the light at the end of my dark tunnel." There was more, bottom left corner of the paper.

"But, it seems like even god can't hear me, or perhaps no one's listening."

"Maybe someday, someone will be willing to listen." The note end there, with a simple doodle of a cat, weeping; and few stars on the pieces of papers.

Maybe once he get back, he'll reply. Maybe?

You couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions as you stared down at the page. Your heart raced, the silence of the forest almost deafening. The note in your hand felt heavy, and yet it also gave you a strange sense of comfort, knowing that someone had found and read your words. You looked around the silent forest, hoping that it wasn't just a silly joke. You took a deep breath and started to read the reply. The letters were written in a scribbly but neat handwriting; it was.. human. Message was brief and simple, yet it left you feeling a little puzzled. It reads,

"saw your note. I get it, the loneliness and longing in your heart. I can relate." You read the words on the paper again, mind racing with thoughts. The simplicity of the message intrigued you, yet at the same time, it made you feel slightly uneasy. Who was this person who had replied to your note? You sat back against the tree, deep in thought, as you stared at the note once again.

Do you write a respond? You thought. Will they read it or not, you still decided to respond. But as you write your response, a mix of emotions flood through you. Part of you feels relieved that someone else understands your loneliness, yet a small part of you yearns for a deeper connection, a desire for someone to truly know how you feel, an actual friendship.

I DONT LIKE THIS ONE NOOO (ㄒoㄒ)

AA THIS FEELS OOC! IS THIS OOC?? Maybe I'll do a rewrite someday.. But for now I'll just continue the fic..

Also, feedback and criticism is welcomed, just please dont be rude about it :-)

͚𝆬 𝃞 ೃᰰ࿔ got the music in you baby, tell me why 𝃞 ◌๋ 𝅘ྀི𝅥

Dinner datee

Trying the gravity Falls artstyle.. Im bad at adapting!! why is drawing cartoony and cutesy soo hard!! 😭

𖦹 Unfolded | Chapter 3

★ CHARACTER ─ Tim Wright

✦ GENRE ─ Fluff?

★ WARNING ─ None

✦ SUMMARY ─ You made a friend, yand you guys started talking through notes! Yeay! (I have no clue what to put in here..)

Note: I got super excited because this came to me in a dream and I just thought it was probably meant to be! But I forgot Tim's part.. Maybe a little ooc? But I hope you like this either way :)

You hesitated, pen hovering over the paper as your mind raced. The forest was still, save for the occasional rustle of leaves, and you could almost hear your own heartbeat. There was a vulnerability in this exchange, an unspoken bond that was both comforting and terrifying. What if this person, this stranger, was someone you could connect with? But what if they weren’t? What if this was just a fleeting interaction, leaving you more alone than before? Your hand finally moved, the pen meeting the page as you began to write:

"Thank you for your note? Means a lot to know someone out there understands. I don't know who you are, and maybe that makes it easier, to be honest. I've felt lost for a long time, like I’m wandering through a world where everyone else has a place, but I don't. The forest is the one place I feel like I can breathe. It's quiet, peaceful. But sometimes I feel like it’s just a reminder of how alone I really am."

"You said you understand. I wonder, do you feel the same way? Do you come to the forest to escape too, or to find something you’re missing? Maybe it's both for me. I don’t know."

"And if you're willing, I'd like to hear more from you. Maybe we can share our thoughts, even if it’s just through these notes. I don’t know if it will make it go away, but maybe it will help, even just a little. Hope you'll find this note"

You paused, rereading the words. It felt raw, exposing parts of yourself that you rarely even acknowledged; was this too open? you thought. But there was a strange comfort in it too, like a weight being lifted, even if just slightly. You added a small doodle of a tree next to your words, hoping it would convey some of the warmth you were feeling despite your nerves.

Folding the note carefully, you placed it in the same spot where you’d found it last, hoping the person would find it. As you walked away, a mix of anxiety and hope settled in your chest. The forest seemed different now, as if it was holding its breath, waiting for something to unfold. You couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, this exchange might be the beginning of something more—a connection, even if only a fleeting one.

As you walked home, the shadows lengthening with the setting sun, you found yourself glancing back at the path, wondering if you would hear from them again, and what they might say. The forest seemed quieter than usual, as if it was sharing your anticipation.

The days that followed were filled with a strange mix of excitement and dread. Every time you walked the path, your heart would race, wondering if there would be another note waiting for you.

────

And then, one afternoon, as you rounded the familiar bend, you saw it—a small piece of paper tucked under a rock, almost as if it was hiding, waiting for you to discover it. Your hands trembled slightly as you picked it up, unfolding it with a sense of urgency. The handwriting was the same—messy but legible, and the message made your heart skip a beat.

"glad you wrote back. The forest has been a place that somehow get me at ease. It’s the only place where I feel like I can breathe, away from the noise and take a rest. I come here to think, to be alone, but I guess part of me is always hoping I won’t be alone forever, I guess?"

"Your words connected with me more than I expected. It’s strange, right? How you can feel so connected to someone you’ve never met, just through words on a page. Don’t know where this will go, but I’d like to keep writing. Maybe, we can make this loneliness a little less overwhelming."

A small doodle of a leaf was drawn at the bottom of the page. You couldn’t help but smile as you traced it with your finger. For the first time in a long while, you felt a flicker of something you hadn’t felt in ages—hope.

Morning light filtered through the curtains of your small apartment, casting soft shadows across the room. You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the events of the past few days in your mind. The notes, the stranger in the forest—it all felt surreal, like something out of a book or a dream. Yet it was real, as real as the sunlight warming your face and the faint hum of birds and the city beyond your window.

You finally pushed the covers aside and got out of bed, your feet meeting the cool wooden floor. The apartment was quiet, almost too quiet, amplifying the thoughts swirling in your head. You went through the motions of your morning routine, brushing your teeth, making a cup of coffee, but your mind was elsewhere, caught up in the mystery of the notes. Who was this person? why are you smiling so dumbly? you didn't even know the person.. but you do want to get to know them better, don't you?

As you sat at the small kitchen table, sipping your coffee, you glanced over at your notebook lying on the counter. The pages were filled with your thoughts, sketches, and bits of poetry—things you usually kept to yourself. Yet here you were, sharing pieces of your soul with a stranger. It was terrifying, but also liberating in a way you hadn't anticipated.

────

The city outside was beginning to wake up, the distant sounds of traffic and voices slowly filling the silence. But your thoughts were far from the bustling streets. The forest felt like a world apart, a sanctuary where time moved differently. You wondered if today would be the day you’d find another note. The thought made your heart race, a mix of excitement and anxiety churning in your chest.

After finishing your coffee, you decided to take a walk to clear your head. The small apartment felt too confining, too full of thoughts and questions that had no answers. You dressed quickly, pulling on a light jacket before stepping outside. The city greeted you with its usual mix of sounds and scent. But your mind was elsewhere, already halfway to the forest. Earlier than usual.

As you walked, your thoughts returned to the note you’d found the day before. The stranger had said they felt connected to you, just through your words. It was strange, how that simple acknowledgment had brought you so much comfort. You’d never considered that someone else might feel the same way you did, might seek refuge in the same places.

Before you knew it, you were on the familiar path leading to the forest. The noise of the city faded behind you, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the distant call of birds. The air was cooler here, fresher, and you breathed it in deeply, feeling some of the tension leave your body.

────

As you approached the large tree, your heart began to race again. Would there be another note? You weren’t sure what you hoped for more—the continuation of this strange, wordless conversation, or the comfort of finding nothing, letting it all remain a fleeting cconnection But as you rounded the corner, you saw it— a small piece of paper, tucked under the same rock where you’d left your last note. You hesitated, a mix of excitement and nerves washing over you, before slowly reaching down to pick it up. Unfolding the paper, you saw the familiar handwriting. Your breath caught as you began to read:

"I checked to see if you left a note, didn’t know if you’d come back, but I hoped you would. Maybe you forgot to reply? or maybe you just dont know what to say? I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said— how the forest feels like a sanctuary, but also a reminder of loneliness. I get that. Sometimes it’s like the trees are the only ones who understand, who listen without judging. But knowing that you’re out there, feeling the same way, makes the forest feel a little less lonely."

"I don’t know what’s going to happen with this, with us?? Maybe it’s just words on a page, and maybe that’s all it will ever be; and im just overthinking myself. But I find myself looking forward to your notes, to hearing from you. It’s strange, really. Maybe we don’t need to meet? Maybe this is enough. Or maybe… maybe one day we will?"

"If you’re comfortable with it, I’d like to know more about you. Not everything, just… whatever you feel like sharing, I guess? Who are you when you’re not here, in the forest? What makes you laugh, what keeps you up at night? I know it’s probably a lot to ask, but I’m curious. I want to understand the person behind the words."

You smiled faintly, a warmth spreading through you that you hadn’t felt in a long time. This person, whoever they were, understood you in a way that was both comforting and unsettling. You didn’t know if you were ready to share more about yourself, but the idea of opening up, even just a little, didn’t seem as terrifying as it once did.

Sitting down against the tree, you pulled out your notebook and pen. The forest was quiet around you, the only sounds the rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds. And the orange shade that shine across your face as the sun began to hide. You thought carefully about what you wanted to say, how much you were willing to share. The forest seemed to hum with a quiet energy, as if it too was waiting to see what would happen next. And for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of hope, a belief that maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t have to face the loneliness alone.

Soo.. what do we think?? I personally like this one! I think its the longest ive ever written actually.. I made this at like, 3 am?? Stayed all night for this, LOL :3

Thoughts and criticisms are welcomed, as it would help me improve on my writing!

stamped

© zumicho all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my works on any platform.

SYNOPSIS : your brother’s best friend is a travelling volleyball sensation. he sends him letters from every country he visits, & you could care less. till.. he starts addressing them to you.

PAIRING ; oikawa tooru x reader SMAU 📼

TAGS / CWS : none of the art is mine unless stated, language, sexual & kys jokes, suggestive, borderline angsty, childhood enemies to lovers *wink wink*

completed 𖦹°⋆ TAGLIST closed

♥︎ .ᐟ.ᐟ FILM BRO POSERS + IWA ; SIDE HOES

────────────────────────

mailbox boy — where it all started

01 . 02 . 03 . 04 . ✎ 05 . 06 . 07 . 08 .

signed sealed delivered — the end of it all

the letters : bonus

────────────────────────

author’s note: it’s over! sad to say this is probably the most poorly executed work on my account — but I’m keeping it up for the sake of those who hold it dear to their heart <3 thank you for reading

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