#I'm in my feelings today and this playlist is on repeat

[svt-jia]

⤷ ASK ME ANYTHING . JIA ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

masterlist . 📎 . interviews

— ( ☀️ ) SYNOPSIS: Jia reveals interesting aspects of her life as SEVENTEEN's only female member | Ask Me Anything | ELLE

keys: [...] = [ extra subtitles / editing / comments ]

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ☆ 00:00

"Wow, i'm so nervous," Jia chuckled and sat down on the black chair provided for her, slowly leaning back until she was comfortable. Despite being in front of the cameras for most of her life, being in a completely new environment was oddly nerve-wracking. Her gaze shifted across the room, taking in the sight of multiple cameras facing her direction.

The video cut to Jia's introduction. Now, feeling more confident, she introduced herself with a steady voice. "Hello, I'm Jia, and today I'm going to let Elle ask me anything!"

[ Rhythmic music 🎶 ]

📷 #𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝟏: "What's A Memory You Think About Often?" ☆ 00:11

"Hoshi is always doing his horanghae gesture, so it takes me back a few years to when I helped make a beat for this 'mysterious song' he told me about," Jia speaks, subconsciously smiling at the funny memory.

"When he finished arranging the song, he showed it to much with so much excitement that it got my hopes up," she continued. "It was kinda cute. I've never seen him so excited."

"But when I listened to it and the overly autotuned vocals, all I could do was laugh..." She trailed off. A breathy laugh escaped her lips as she tried to contain her joy. “It's kind of an inside joke between us. I'm sure CARATS know about this song, too. It's kinda catchy.”

📷 #𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝟐: "If You Could Relive One Day of Your Life, Which Would it be?" ☆ 00:53

"If I could relive one day?" Jia repeated the question and stopped to think. She answered, "I think I'd like to relive two days, if that's possible."

"I'd love to relive the day in which I rode a zipline for the first time again," A member of the staff snickered behind the cameras. A smile made its way up to Jia's lips awkwardly, "Huh? What's so funny? I like ziplines!"

"Secondly, I'd like to ride a rollercoaster for the first time again," she said, shyly fidgeting with her fingers. "You know, the fun things. Live the fun days again. Who wouldn't want that?"

📷 #𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝟑: "What's a Song You Have on Repeat?" ☆ 01:23

Aah! I have too many favorites!" Jia scrolled through her playlist on her phone, searching for the song she likes the most. "I can't choose!"

She turned her phone around and showed the artist, "I have too many songs to choose from, but I've been more into Ariana Grande lately. Warm and Moonlight are very good, but in my opinion, this is her best song."

[ Now Playing: Love Me Harder — Ariana Grande 🎶 ]

📷 #𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝟒: "How Do You Feel Being SEVENTEEN's Only Female Member?" ☆ 01:46

Jia sighed playfully, "The most awaited question... Well, I don't have enough time to explain, but there'll be a deeper dive into my life in my next blogs on my channel!"

[ Taking the opportunity to promote her blogs~ ]

"There are many perks, such as having lots of food during gatherings, people who I trust, free personal bodyguards, and my biggest supporters..." she smiled, but then it turned to a slightly annoyed, playful eye roll. "But of course, they're still men. And sometimes, I don't feel like I can talk to them about some of my problems because I'm certain they just... wouldn't understand. Everything has its pros and cons."

"Before we move on, let me tell you a secret," Jia leaned closer to the camera and covered the side of her mouth, as if trying to avoid exposing top-secret information. "They'll probably kill me after this, but they burp more often than you might think. What is it called? Soda... challenges...?"

[ Wow, she really cares about her members' idol image! 🌟 ]

📷 #𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝟓: "What do You Think Your Younger Self Would Say About You Today?" ☆ 02:34

"I really hope she's proud of how far I've come. She would never believe it," Jia admitted. "Her hard work paid off. I wish I could tell her to stop giving up so easily, hahaha!"

📷 #𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝟔: "What Lesson Took You Way Too Long to Learn?" ☆ 02:49

"Patience!" Jia exclaimed without any hesitation, seemingly prepared for this anticipated question, "Definitely patience."

[ Sudden confidence boost?! ]

"I learned a lot throughout my journey from trainee to idol, and I still continue to learn from my mistakes and past experiences. I want to highlight the importance of patience because everything takes its time," she explained.

She continued, "From problems you can't solve at the moment, to achievements earned through perseverance and determination, patience is key. In order to learn the importance of this virtue, you have to take your time, because learning to be patient also takes patience. You never stop learning."

[ "But don't you get impatient and frustrated when Wonwoo walks very slowly and blocks your path?" ]

"Wha— That's a different subject!" She giggled and covered her mouth with her hand, shying away from the camera. "That's not a valid example, is it? I don't think it is!"

[ It's different when someone else does it 🤣 ]

📷 #𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝟕: "Which Member of SEVENTEEN Are You Closest to And Why?" ☆ 3:48

"Some people won't hesitate to say Mingyu... and that's because it's true," Jia shrugged. "As for why, I'm close to him, it's because he was the first person that talked to me when we were still trainees."

"I used to be very shy and wouldn't hang out with anyone. Instead, I'd just stick close to the girl trainees and wonder why I applied to join as a trainee when I clearly felt uncomfortable," she let out a nervous chuckle. "Now that I think about it, it makes me embarrassed."

She brought her focus back to the topic, "Anyway, Mingyu was the first who approached me. He had this cool guy aura, you know? It made him slightly intimidating, but he's a kind person."

[ For more information, visit the Jia: PreDebut Recordings series! ]

📷 #𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝟖: "What Was Your Proudest Moment?" ☆ 04:16

Jia did not hesitate to answer. She was ready for this question, ready to share and summarize her long journey to success, "My debut, without a doubt."

"I was a pretty popular trainee back then, and I'm sure CARATS are aware due to our predebut recordings," she admitted. "I had the vocals, the dance, and I trained for almost two years. But when the news of the group debuting being SEVENTEEN arrived, I was devastated."

"Until they transferred me to the group six months before their debut. The staff had seen my potential and refused to waste it. It was really that simple — my life changed in an instant."

"Of course, it was a very awkward at first. I wasn't really close to the SEVENTEEN members because I used to focus on my own success and avoided making friends. However, as time passed, the members and I grew closer and formed a strong friendship."

"I feel proud because my efforts paid off, and I'm proud of myself for not backing down. Imagine if I had refused to debut because I was too introverted and chose to give up on the opportunity? I'm so glad I didn't," Jia finished sharing her memories, softly smiling at the camera as she shared her experiences during her trainee years.

📷 #𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 ☆ 04:51

"Thank you so much to ELLE for inviting me, and thank you to the audience for hanging out with me today. Bye-bye!" She waved as she finished her successful interview, closing her sentence with a warm good-bye.

[ ELLE ]

© svt-jia . 2025

[ismyteadoneyet]

How fortunate am I to have so many Things to love and be excited about, to appreciate and look forward to?

Things I feel so strongly about that they stumble into my mind, univited, at random times of the day? Things that spill into my speech and vocabulary without me noticing? Things that impact my vision to the point where everywhere I look, everywhere I go, I see ghosts of them?

How lucky am I to have so many Things I love and cherish enough for them to reshape my very person, change my beliefs and make me grow? Things that make my own loved ones see the Things out in the wild, and go out of their way to make sure I see them too?

How wonderful is it that I have Things that I love so much that the very act is deemed and dubbed "not normal", making my love for them seem like it's more than they are supposed to recieve? An out-of-the-ordinary and above-the-norm appreciation for the Things that make the people around me shake their heads, call me "silly".

My dear, beloved Things, may I always stay silly for you ❤️

[bradleysass]

empty - @into-the-jeggyverse - wc: 580 - Translations at the bottom

Regulus doesn’t know how to say I’m not okay when there’s no bruise to point to, no wound to dress.

He wakes up with the weight of wet wool pressed behind his ribs and doesn’t bother shaking it off. The light slanting in through the window is gray and slow, and so is he. The world isn’t cruel today—it’s just dull.

He doesn't get out of bed when James does. Doesn't eat the eggs James scrambles, sunny-side-up. Doesn’t say anything when James kisses his forehead and goes to work with one last glance back, brows tugged together.

By the time James returns, the apartment still smells faintly of morning, like burnt toast and lavender detergent. Regulus is sitting on the couch with a blanket over his lap and a mug of tea gone cold in his hands.

“Baby,” James says softly, not quite a question.

Regulus doesn’t look at him. “Je suis fatigué.”

James toes off his shoes, crosses the room, crouches in front of him.

“Tired?” James repeats, brushing dark hair away from Regulus’ eyes.

Regulus shrugs. “Mais pas seulement fatigué. Je suis… vide. Comme si je me suis endormi quelque part à l’intérieur.”

James nods, even if he doesn’t fully understand. He doesn’t need to. He takes the cold mug from Regulus’ hands, sets it on the table, then slides into the couch beside him, pulling the blanket around them both.

They sit in silence for a long time.

Eventually James says, “Estás triste?”

The Spanish falls gently from his tongue, a thread instead of a net.

Regulus breathes in slowly. “Peut-être. Je ne sais pas pourquoi. Rien n’est vraiment mauvais.”

James hums and presses a kiss to his shoulder. “Sometimes nothing has to be wrong, and it still feels like everything is.”

Regulus rests his head against James’ chest.

“It’s the light,” he murmurs. “Or the lack of it. Or maybe I just have a broken heart in a body that forgot it was broken.”

James’s voice is low when he replies. “Te puedo dar un poco del mío, si quieres.”

Regulus looks up, a faint crease between his brows. “Your what?”

James taps two fingers over his own heart. “Mine. You can borrow some. Just until yours feels a bit less tired.”

Regulus wants to roll his eyes, to scoff and call James dramatic.

Instead, he whispers, “Tu es un idiot,” and closes his eyes against James’ chest.

James doesn’t move for a while. Just rubs his back in slow, grounding circles.

Later, when the light outside is gone and the tea has been reheated, James makes Regulus sit at the kitchen table while he puts on a playlist full of soft Spanish guitar. He dances terribly while he cooks. Regulus doesn’t smile, but his eyes follow James with the ghost of one.

James piles their plates with arroz con pollo and grilled sweet peppers. Regulus eats slowly, like he's just remembered how to move his jaw.

“Do you want to talk about it?” James asks as he refills their glasses with water.

Regulus shakes his head. “Not yet.”

“Okay.” James presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “But whenever you do—”

“Je sais,” Regulus interrupts softly. “I know.”

Later, curled up in bed, James holds him like the fragile thing Regulus won’t admit to being. Their limbs tangle. The silence stretches.

Then Regulus says, almost too quiet to hear, “Merci d’être resté.”

James kisses the crown of his head. “Siempre, mi amor.”

Je suis fatigué : I'm tired Mais pas seulement fatigué. Je suis… vide. Comme si je me suis endormi quelque part à l’intérieur. : But not just tired. I am... empty. As if I fell asleep somewhere inside. Estás triste? : Are you sad? Peut-être. Je ne sais pas pourquoi. Rien n’est vraiment mauvais. : Maybe. I don't know why. Nothing is really bad. Te puedo dar un poco del mío, si quieres. : I can give you some of mine, if you want. Tu es un idiot : You are an idiot Je sais : I know Merci d’être resté : Thank you for staying Siempre, mi amor. : Always, my love

[woncon]

➳ like a rainbow

➶ stray kids ot8 x gn!reader ｡˚ °

-ˏ` ✎﹏ sometimes it just hurts and you need to cry it out. but don't worry, your boyfriends are here to help you through it.

➴ genre: angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end

: ̗̀➛ warnings: crying, emotional pain

⌨ :: 1.2K words ♡ ︵ . .

⁀➷ i had a sobbing afternoon the other day. i wrote this as a therapy session, and now I'm dedicating this to all the dear Stays who need it! <3

⁀➷ thanks to @wonsheep for helping me fix my grammar mistakes and for giving me advice how to convert a whole story into another language precisely °♡̷•.

➳ stray kids masterlist | main masterlist

You retire to the bedroom. You don't even bother to close the door. You just throw yourself on the bed, and the tears are already flowing. You curl up in a ball and let your heartache take its course.

Today seems to be one of those days.

A day for crying.

You're too weak to get up. You're too tired to think. You’re just hurting and you let it hurt. Maybe if you use up all your tears, it'll be easier.

Maybe.

You embrace your body. Your shoulder shakes. Your whole being gives way to desperate cries. You close your eyes because you see nothing but your own tears, endless. Your heart is pounding loud, crumpled in its cave.

You don't even hear when someone enters the room.

Chan calls you by name, softly and quietly, but as soon as he realizes you aren't sleeping, but instead hiccupping from sobs, he is not subtle, he repeats your name in terror and comes to your side.

"What happened? Who hurt you?" He grabs your face. "My baby? Baby, talk to me. What hurts?"

You cuddle up to him, bury your head in his chest and shake it. You can't talk about this now. You have no words now, only tears, but you cling to Chan's body to let him know that even if you can't articulate it, you need him here. So you don't dig your fingers into the fabric of your sweater, but hold Chan close to you.

Meanwhile Chan is stroking your back, rocking you slowly, trying to soothe you with his kind words, you are still crying bitterly, your own chest unable to suppress the grief that is welling up inside you.

Soon Felix sticks his head into the room. His incomprehension quickly gives way to worry. His eyes widen, his mouth clenches helplessly, and every bitter sound you make creates another crack in his heart. He wants to climb on the bed, cuddle up to you, touch you reassuringly, hoping that his touch, his presence, will go some way to soothe your suffering.

But before he can do that, Chan whispers something to him. Felix doesn't understand at first. He shakes his head.

"Blanket. Hot chocolate. Music. Netflix. Dori," repeats Chan.

Felix nods vigorously, and heads out of the room to hand out tasks to the others. Everyone is committed when they find out how bad of an emotional state you are in. They are eager to do something to cheer you up, if only a little.

Seungmin looks for your favorite blanket. Felix makes the hot chocolate while Hyunjin roasts marshmallows. Jisung and Jeongin take care of the music, one brings the speakers from Chan's studio, the other your favorite playlist. Changbin's forearm disappears into the sofa as he searches for the remote control. Minho lures Dori into his lap to bring him to you.

When their duties are done, they all go to the bedroom and shower you with their kindness. You crawl out the cover of Chan's chest and sit up. You are so struck by all these hopeful faces and loving little things that for a moment you completely forget the pain you have felt, and the mere purpose of your existence is the vibrant gratitude you feel for them. A visceral gratitude for their kindness and love.

"See, little one?" Chan says with a half smile as your boyfriends flood the bed. "You are not alone. You are never alone. If you need it, you can cry on everyone's shoulder because we're here to take care of you."

Chan pulls out a tissue from his trousers and hands it over. You blow your nose. Seungmin spreads the blanket on your legs. Jisung turns on the speaker, then puts it on the nightstand. Jeongin starts the music, and the bedroom fills with rippling melodies instead of your inconsolable crying noises.

"Here." You get the hot chocolate in your hand from Felix. 

As you sip the sweet drink and eat the marshmallows, you feel warm inside. Your tears slowly dry up. 

You feel safe in the ring of your boyfriends on your huge bed as they quietly watch and listen to your wishes and reactions. They do their best to make you feel better, and their efforts alone make you feel better. By being here, being with you, and wanting to help, you know that no matter how much it hurts, they will try so hard to make you not suffer. They will listen or silently embrace you, whatever you need, they will want to give it to you, but they won't let you wallow alone, helpless.

Felix clears the empty mug up with a broad smile. As soon as your hand is empty, Minho immediately puts Dori in your lap. The cat instantly curls up on your blanket-clad thigh, settling into regal comfort.

At times, Dori specifically likes to be around those who aren't exactly in a good mood. He makes it almost a mission to cheer them up. Even now, as you run your fingers through his fur and he purrs contentedly, it's enough to bring a small smile to your tear-streaked face.

"You're like a rainbow now," whispers Hyunjin. You look at him. His eyes are bright with wonder, lips slightly parted. "Your tears fall, but your smile shines. Your face is a rainbow."

Embarrassed, you wipe away the remaining tears with the sleeve of your sweater before they dry completely on your face.

"Thank you," you say. "For taking care of me."

"Of course, beauty. We love you," replies Changbin, handing over the remote. You hold it with the hand you're not using to stroke Dori's soft fur. "We love you so much, you can choose the movie. If you want."

"But we can do other things if you feel like it," Felix adds, caressing your hand. "Anything that makes you happy."

"It's nice like this. Can we stay a little longer here?"

Everyone nods.

You scratch the base of Dori's ear.

"Thank you, really," you whisper emotionally.

"No need to thank us." Much to your surprise, Minho is lying down on your other side, resting his head on your shoulder and sliding up. You put the remote next to Dori and stroke Minho's hair with your free hand, and it seems as if he purrs too. You enjoy that this time you don't have to fight with his tsundere self to get him to cuddle up to you. 

Then your hand is snatched out by Hyunjin, who settles down behind Minho. He plays with it, drawing little hearts on your palm.

“Grandpa, space please!" Seungmin pushes Chan aside so that he can lie at your side. Chan snorts, Minho giggles and you smile.

"My seat's taken," Jisung snorts sadly, nudging Dori, who's sprawled on your stomach.

"You have other seats, Sung," Seungmin mutters, who no longer has such a problem because he's found his place next to you.

“Right!" Jisung gets excited. In the next moment, he leaps at Minho, who moans angrily for a second, but lets Jisung sprawl out and nestle on top of him.

Chan, Jeongin, Changbin and Felix form the other pile. 

You wish you had eight arms like an octopus to touch them all and pull them to you. And then Jeongin smiles sweetly at you, Changbin looks at you lovingly, and you understand that you don't need eight arms, because they are all in your heart, as you are in theirs, be at arm's length, cities or continents apart.

[diamonddaze01]

HIIIIIHIHI just discovered your blog and read the jeonghan drabble with prompt 75 and OH MY GAWDDD I'M IN LOVE WITH YOUR WRITING. The flow, the banter, the chemistry just mwah mwah mwahhhhhh, ik i HAD to come and send in a req (before reading alllll of other works cuz i expect them to be just as good, if not, better)

Idk if it's done already but I would LOVE love for you to do a seungkwan drabble with prompts 29 & 39 (maybe a little sprinkle of rivalry there). I'm just a sucker for coworker!seungkwan and i feel like your writing would do him justice

morning rush

pairing: seungkwan x reader | wc: 1.1k prompt: "It’s been fun. We’ve had a good run, but you parked in my spot. I’m going to have to kill you now." and "Why don’t they just kiss already?" au: office au, rivals to ???? | warnings: none! a/n: nonie this is so so sweet, i really hope i did your ask justice <33

The low hum of Seungkwan’s car filled the parking garage as he turned the corner, his morning ritual of peace and perfection rolling along smoothly. His go-to playlist blasted one of his favorite songs, the kind that put a spring in his step even before caffeine. Today was supposed to be his day.

Until it wasn’t.

He hit the brakes so suddenly his car jerked forward, and his half-full coffee cup jostled precariously in the holder. For a moment, he just stared, blinking as if to will the sight before him to disappear.

But there it was. Your car. Parked in his spot.

Not just any spot. The closest one to the elevator—the spot Seungkwan had earned through months of arriving early, guarding his little slice of heaven like a hawk. And now, it was occupied by your obnoxiously familiar vehicle, complete with a dusty rear window and that godforsaken bumper sticker: My other car is a broomstick.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, pulling out his phone to snap a picture of the heinous crime. As the camera clicked, he already imagined how this confrontation would go. Maybe he’d send the picture to you with a passive-aggressive caption like, Are you training for the villain role in my life movie? Or maybe he’d just frame it as evidence to present in court.

Instead, he parked three levels down—three—seething as he trekked up the stairs. The elevator was out of the question; he had to burn off this rage somehow.

By the time he stepped into the office, Seungkwan had rehearsed a dozen opening lines, each one more cutting than the last. He spotted you by the coffee machine, humming softly as you fixed your morning latte, the picture of carefree oblivion.

“You parked in my spot,” he announced, his voice sharper than a stapler misfire.

You turned leisurely, the mug in your hand halfway to your lips. “Good morning to you too, Boo.”

“Don’t ‘good morning’ me,” he snapped, setting his bag on the counter beside you with a thud. “You stole my parking spot.”

“Oh, your spot?” you asked innocently, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t see your name on it.”

“It’s implied,” he shot back, his tone dripping with indignation.

“Implied?” You tilted your head, as if mulling over the word like it was foreign to you. “Implied where? In your head?”

“Yes, in my head, and in reality,” he hissed. “I’ve been parking there for months. Everyone knows it’s my spot. It’s common knowledge—practically office law.”

“Well, maybe you should get here earlier next time,” you said with a shrug, taking a sip of your coffee as if his mounting frustration was the whipped cream on your morning.

“Earlier?” he repeated, his voice climbing an octave. “You want me to arrive earlier? I already beat half this building here every day!”

“Sounds like a you problem,” you said, grinning over the rim of your mug.

Seungkwan’s jaw dropped. “You have no shame.”

“None at all,” you replied cheerfully, setting your mug down with a satisfying clink.

“This isn’t just about the parking spot,” he said, stepping closer. “This is about respect. This is about decency. This is about maintaining order in a world that’s already too chaotic!”

“Oh, please.” You waved a hand dismissively. “You’re acting like I set fire to your cubicle. It’s a parking spot, Seungkwan. Relax.”

“It’s not just a parking spot!” His hands flew to his hair in exasperation. “It’s a symbol of—of stability! And you—you’re—”

“An agent of chaos?” you supplied, smirking.

“Yes!”

“Good. Chaos suits me.”

His mouth opened, clearly ready to fire back, but something sharper came to his mind. He folded his arms and gave you a pointed look. “It’s been fun. We’ve had a good run, but you parked in my spot. I’m going to have to kill you now.”

You snorted, utterly unfazed. “Go ahead. Who else is going to keep you on your toes every day?”

“I could finally have peace,” he retorted, the corner of his mouth twitching despite himself.

“Oh, Boo.” You patted his arm mockingly. “You wouldn’t know what to do with peace if it hit you in the face.”

He sputtered, pointing an accusing finger at you. “You’re insufferable.”

You raised your coffee cup in mock surrender. “Big words for someone who couldn’t out-present me in the pitch meeting yesterday.”

“I didn’t lose! The client just liked your ridiculous use of emojis in your slideshow.”

“You’re jealous my slides had pizzazz. Admit it.”

The sound of snickering cut through the tension, drawing both your attention.

Soonyoung and Seokmin stood by the printer, blatantly eavesdropping.

“Why don’t they just kiss already?” Soonyoung stage-whispered, nudging Seokmin with his elbow.

Seokmin snorted, shaking his head. “Seriously. The tension is suffocating. I can’t focus on my spreadsheets with all this unresolved sexual energy.”

You blinked, your brain stalling for a split second before indignation kicked in. “Excuse me?”

Seungkwan turned on them, scandalized. “Are you delusional? I wouldn’t kiss this…this – spot-stealer if my life depended on it.”

“Good,” you shot back immediately. “Because I’d rather make out with a parking meter.”

He glared at you. “Why are you so obsessed with me?”

“Obsessed?” You let out a laugh. “You wish I was obsessed with you.”

“Oh my god,” Soonyoung groaned, throwing his head back like he was personally offended by the lack of progress. “This is painful to watch. Just kiss already!”

Seungkwan turned to him, eyes blazing. “Do you want to lose printer privileges for the rest of the week?”

“Do you want to admit you’re projecting?” Soonyoung countered, grinning like he’d just won a debate.

You pressed your lips together, biting back a smile as you grabbed your mug and brushed past Seungkwan. “See you tomorrow, Boo. And don’t forget to set your alarm earlier.”

“Unbelievable!” he called after you, throwing his hands in the air.

Behind him, Soonyoung and Seokmin exchanged a knowing look.

“Ten bucks says they’re making out in the parking lot by Friday,” Soonyoung said.

“Twenty says in front of Seungkwan’s parking spot,” Seokmin replied.

Seungkwan spun on them, his glare scorching. “I can hear you!”

“We want you to,” Soonyoung replied smugly, grabbing his freshly printed documents. “Someone has to make you face the truth.”

As they walked away, Seungkwan turned back toward your retreating figure, still fuming. But somewhere beneath the indignation, a tiny, treacherous thought crept into his mind.

Maybe chaos did suit you after all.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[starreyeed]

emma's 14 day manifestation challenge

it's day two of @hrrtshape challenge and i would actually like to profess my undying love for her because i had no idea i was capable of so much.

you know how normally people tell you that you control every single thing happening in your life and you are the maker of your own relity and you're like yeah, of course. they actually might be onto something.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ day two １１.０６.２５

i'm lucky to the point of suspicion

⤷intention , things go right for me by default

⤷test , assume you'll avoid inconvenience. no traffic, no long lines, no wifi crashes

⤷affirmation , things always work out for me. even if they shouldn't.　

 

So apparently i have been shooting myself in the foot everytime i manifested because this time i didn't let my doubt wins. I would either repeat the affirmation or just distract myself someway and somehow. So here we have a list off all the things that went my way (i was very tired today so dont judge me for being lazy)

ᥫ᭡. everytime i had to cross the street, the road would be empty or the car would stop even though there were no zebra crossing

ᥫ᭡. i go on short morning hikes but the roads are tiny and everytime some vehicle passes i have to literally press myself to the side but this time somehow the road was always big enough for me to continue walking

ᥫ᭡. i've been craving milkshakes for a week and my mom made it for me. i got three glasses which is kinda impossible cause mom always gives it extra to my sibilings

ᥫ᭡. i listen to subliminals but i dont really have a set playlist. i wanted to play a specific one but i was already listening to another and i was also really sleepy so i palnned on staying up but fell asleep anyway. When i woke up the subliminal was playing

ᥫ᭡. i needed to book a place to stay for my parents for a vacation and it took me 15 minutes to find a good one with reasonable prices

ᥫ᭡. i was preparing lunch but i didn't feel like it so mom took over

ᥫ᭡. my mom put away her suitcase and she wanted me to search for it. i found it in five minutes

ᥫ᭡. my brother went out and on his way back bought my favourite tea

ᥫ᭡. my dad got me cherries which i had been also craving

ᥫ᭡. my friend hit me up for a study date even though she hates studying around people

ᥫ᭡. mom told me not to make dinner because she was gonna get pizzas

ᥫ᭡. posted on my private accounts without overthinking my whole life

turns out this is actually pretty easy when you dont think about it

[someone-writing]

Today's menu:⋆. 𐙚˚࿔ Headcanon 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Dr.Spencer Reid, the kind of man who fell in love with them somewhere between the aisles of ice cream and frozen pizza. gender neutral!reader x Spencer

Spencer Reid… is, in my eyes, a man who appreciates good music outside of the classical world, but he never quite understood the hype about most song lyrics or melodies.

But the night when his partner had just finished dinner, he was tired after a long case, and the playlist was slowly inching toward its end… Under Pressure came on.

It started innocently: his partner softly humming and swinging their head to the rhythm as they were washing some of the dishes.

It ended with forgotten dishes, the song turned all the way up, and dancing around the living room, giddily whispering the last parts of the lyrics in the company of David Bowie’s voice to the man who holds them.

⋆. Because love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night… ˚⋆

“You know…” The whisper against their ear was soft. “The day I’m... I'm going to marry you… I know it sounds weird, but… I think I’d rather hold you to Bowie than Paillard, even though that’s… traditionally the one, right? I-I mean, Canon in D is statistically one of the most used wedding songs in history...

But I think… I don’t want to add to that statistic this time. Because that--that song just feels more like us. More like what I didn’t know I needed… until you didn’t yell at me for the coffee thing.”

A small breath in. A dry swallow.

“I think... that I want to hold you in my arms and listen to David Bowie as he describes the way I’ve felt since the day I tripped over my feet, spilled coffee on you, and you, instead of sending me to hell. you… you asked me to repeat it, but add a coffee invitation.”

𐙚˚࿔...𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Spencer Reid... is a man with more than enough on his plate. But the moment he notices something is wrong with his partner, he drops anything and everything—that isn’t literally breathing down his neck or threatening to get him killed or fired—and he becomes the best support system he can possibly piece together.

There’s a difference, of course, between a fresh relationship and a long-term one.

In a new relationship, he doesn’t quite know his footing yet. So, he just starts doing small things.

Washed dishes without saying a word when he’s staying over? Done. Silently prepping everything his partner might need for the next workday? Done. Staying up late when they need to work on something? He’s there—taking his own notes, helping to keep things organized, even preparing a cup (or two) of green tea.

He doesn’t always know how to talk to his partner yet, but he’s doing everything he can to take the weight off their shoulders in small, meaningful ways.

But once he’s in a long-term relationship?

The first question is always: Do you want to be heard, or do you want help?

If things are tough, he usually knows before the first sigh that leaves their lips. And if his partner is okay with touch, he leans in carefully and rests his head on their shoulder, hands gently running up and down their arm, maybe even a quiet side hug.

"Eight minutes. Tell me anything and everything. You don’t even have to talk about it. Just... speak to me."

𐙚˚࿔...𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Spencer Reid... knows how to knit and he gave his partner the scarf he knitted for his Fourth Doctor costume because they’ve been wearing it anyway, and he loves the idea that, when he wears it to the next convention, it’s been lived in. It’s loved, even through normal life.

And he folds like a chair if his partner ever knits, crochets, or sews something for him.

𐙚˚࿔...𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Spencer Reid... who has seen nearly every documentary under the sun, but his soft spot? BBC nature documentaries narrated by Sir David Attenborough.

His partner loves to imitate the voice once in a while and describe what the “genius” is currently doing, and yes, Spencer fights back in kind.

“And here we can see Homo sapiens sapiens domesticus on their next hunt for cheese sticks. It’s a ritualistic behaviour, but it’s unusual to see them leave their den this early in the evening... Perhaps the hunger is greater than we expected. We will see if the hunt is successful this time…” And he has always a hard time to keep the grin from his face.

𐙚˚࿔...𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Spencer Reid... who is totally up to the night snacks.

He grumbles that it’s definitely not healthy for either of them when they’re dragging a chocolate cake back from the 24/7 shop down the corner—but life is too short. He may not come back home from the next case or case after that.

He knows what it means to not come home. 

So what is life, really, without 2 a.m. cake and his partner snuggled against his side while they watch the city lights flicker below the window?

𐙚˚࿔...𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Spencer Reid... in my eyes, is the kind of man who wants to do dates right.

He tries: expensive restaurants, bouquets of flowers, candlelight. He follows the social scripts. He means well.

But the night his partner suggested ditching the fancy restaurant they’d booked, he thought he’d done everything wrong. That was all he knew about how romance was supposed to work.

Until that moment.

But when they took his hand in theirs and started the conversation about how his day was and then announcing that they were craving cheap ramen and sweets, he understood more.

There was something magical about two overdressed people walking through evening-time Washington D.C., making their way to Chinatown.

Watching the confused old man behind the counter as they stepped into the shop… wandering the aisles, searching for gummy worms and those off-brand Snickers bars—he started to see the beauty in it.

The way the milky store lights danced in their eyes as they held up a gummy eyeball next to theirs and made a face. The way they asked if he could handle extra spicy ramen. The question about which of the sodas looked more radioactive. The half-hour hunt through the freezers for that one specific type of ice cream he definitely needed to try in their opinion because everyone should taste that awful blue ice cream with chocolate lentils in it.

“Every child should taste that awful blue one with the chocolate lentils in it,” they’d said. “I want to see you give a treat to the small boy you used to be. The one who deserved this. Bit overdue, but... I think he would like it. And I think the adult you will hate it with a passion.”

Yeah. He fell in love with them even more.

Right there, between the aisles of ice cream and frozen pizza.

Guess who is stuck with the series? So, here is at least a bit more of the headcanon I'm entertaining myself with for now. This one is mostly relationship focused one... but I want to do a few 'normal life' ones too in the near future. And I may try to write a short piece about the store date... Well, that would be it for today! In case I don't see ya, good morning, good afternoon, good evening, and good night!

[margaritastation141]

"Rekindled" - John Price x Divorcee mom of teens

Chapter 6 summary: An attempt at having one peaceful dinner doesn't go as hoped. Masterlist ✖︎ Ao3 Read this fic on Ao3 (chapter 7 out now/priority uploads) Playlist Previously

Felicity woke the next morning with an ache behind her brow and far too many thoughts running through her head. Alas, rise, rinse, repeat—she had work to get to. At least it was Friday, mere hours between herself and the weekend. But...

Last night.

Fumbling beneath her pillow to switch off her alarm, she frowned down at the screen.

John, 1 hour ago

] Morning sweetheart, hope you have a better day today

] I’m here if you want to talk about it any more

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. How had she even let last night happen—she wasn’t so intoxicated she couldn’t say no. She just...let it happen? That’s not like her.

She dragged her hands down her face in the shower, steam curling around her ears, whispering her own sins back to her. Did she want something to happen between herself and Price? Well, no shit Effie, you’ve been single for so long, she scolded herself, something stupid was bound to happen...but your neighbor?

The instant she closed her eyes, letting the water run down her hair, conditioner slicking her back, it was like John was right there, his lips on hers, the overwhelming heat of his body coaxing out a long-ignored piece of herself and fuck. She was lying if she said it didn’t feel good.

A little reminder that she was human. That she could feel wanted.

God, did he really cum in his pants because of her?

Her face burned and it wasn’t because of the hot water raining down on it. She desperately tried to smother her own smile but it broke through, giddy and rather juvenile as she hopped out of the shower, patting herself dry.

Of course, she knew he had some kind of thing for her, a crush maybe, attracted at the very least—she wasn’t blind. But this...this changed things.

Despite that—

Me, just now

] Thanks John

] Last night was nice

] I don’t think that it should happen again though. I don’t know if I'm ready

• • •

“Oi, Cap, you alright?” Simon clapped his shoulder, jolting him out of his stupor and pulling his attention away from his phone.

Last night was nice.

I don’t think that it should happen again though. I don’t know if I’m ready.

“Simon, what are you doing here? Where’s Orla?”

“She’s at home. I told you I was coming to get my sweater; I left it here. Messaged you yesterday?” He raised a blonde brow, “what’s got you so distracted?”

John shoved his phone in his back pocket as calmly as he could, narrowing his eyes back at Simon, “yeah, yeah, I remember. And it’s none of your business what a man gets up to in his spare time—"

“Bullshit,” the man actually laughed, shaking his head, “you're always in everyone's bloody business.”

“Am not,” he grumbled, agitated.

Simon grinned, “whatever. I’m goin' home...to my kids.” Price had never been so jealous in his life as he patted the man on the back. “Come round for dinner sometime man, Orla misses you.”

“I will, I will. Sunday?”

“Sunday.”

• • •

Sunday couldn't come around fast enough.

Price was plagued.

If he timed it just right, he could watch Felicity making dinner for her boys—it was becoming his new routine.

He longed for another Thursday night—not the heartache that had bogged her down, but to have her in his arms again. It had been perfect, but short, far too short. He tried to remember the sweet smell at the hollow of her neck, but it came up blank, not the same. He needed the real thing. 

“Hey John?” Just as he was about to get in his car to head to Simon and Orla’s place, he heard Felicity call out to him, he looked up, she was on the porch, on a little step ladder. “Sorry, the lights blown and I can’t reach it—Logan's not home or I wouldn’t have—"

“I’ve got it,” he was quick to interject, “not a problem.” Car abandoned, he jogged over to her.

Vanilla—that's what it was. He breathed in the warm fragrance as she came down off the step ladder, hardly giving her space to stand. “Um,” noticing how close they were, she swallowed, glancing up at him, “there’s a spare bulb in the house—I’ll—I’ll go get it,” and she was gone.

Christ, he was a bloody addict, aching without his fix.

Pushing down the need creeping up his spine, he climbed up the ladder and took out the useless lightbulb. He glanced down through the door, left ajar in her wake, and caught her putting her hair up into a loose bun in the hallway mirror, curls falling haphazardly out the back and making her try again before she gave up, cursing to herself as she smoothed her hair back down, heading back to the door with a small box in hand.

Something warm bloomed in the pit of his stomach as she handed the box up to him, his heart jolting in a way that made his fingers clench tight around the box, exchanging it for the dirty bulb, “thanks sweetheart.”

Her smile was a nervous thing, fleeting, “thanks John.”

By the time he arrived at Orla and Simon’s place he didn’t realise he was still smiling until Simon opened the door and gave him a look, “it’s the neighbour, isn’t it? You've got a thing for your neighbour.”

“Ach—ye wha’?!” Orla suddenly appeared over Simon’s shoulder, mostly just her forehead for a second as if she’d jumped. “Who—Simon, move yer fat arse, Jesus—Who are we talkin’ abou’?!”

“No idea what he’s on about,” Price grumbled, pulling the woman into a hug. She squeezed him back and pulled him inside, letting him wash his hands quickly as he asked, “right, where are they?”

“Nobody wants t’see me anymore,” Simon muttered behind them, Price showed him his middle finger over his shoulder.

“I want to see ye,” Orla grinned, waggling her brows over her shoulder.

Jesus, “let me at least get out of the room,” Price grumbled, shaking his head.

Orla laughed, “ye dinnae want in on this?” Biting her lip, winking up at him. Simon sounded like he was about to have a conniption behind them, muttering to himself, “we’re not havin’ this conversation again.”

“Ach, I’m just teasin’ ye big lug,” she rolled her eyes, words aimed at her fiancé, before looping her arm through John’s and guiding him to the nursery.

“Look who’s awake,” Orla cooed, sweeping into the room, beelining for Maisie swaddled in a giraffe print blanket. “D’ye want to say hi to Uncle John?” She asked softly, words murmured into the wispy curls already forming on her head.

Just then, Benjamin began to whine in his crib.

Orla shot Price a look, something amused in there, “ye’re here just in time.”

Maisie was squirming and hiccuping in John’s arms in a matter of seconds as Orla went to the kitchen, prepping bottles. Maisie’s chin was wobbling, big dark eyes squeezing shut as she began to cry and Price felt bad like he’d caused it. Such a mighty little cry from someone so small.

“Don’t get it twisted, that’s just how they say hi,” Simon said, picking up an equally wailing Benny from the neighbouring crib. They migrated to the living room, Maisie’s cries softening slightly at the sound of her dad’s voice. “They’ll settle after a bottle, don’t worry.”

After a bottle and a burp, everyone was settled on the living room couches, Ben cradled in John’s arms while they chatted. But, of course, the conversation didn’t stay intelligent for long, Orla was nearly off her seat leaning forward, Simon’s hand curled around her hip as she lay against his side, Maisie curled up like a little bean on his chest, blinking and looking around, sucking her purple pacifier. “So, who is she? How come I havnae heard anythin’?!”

Price kept his focus on Benny, watching his lips purse as he stretched, little legs pressing into John’s stomach. “It’s not really…we’re not together or anything,” he sighed, gently tickling the boy’s onesie covered foot, a smile warming his face as he pulled his foot away, eyes widening at the strange new sensation. “It’s hardly even fucking flirting.”

“See now I’m confused, ye still need to tell me who she is—can I meet her?”

“I’m working on it,” he finally relented, looking up at the woman who was practically beaming. “Don’t get so excited it’s complicated—”

“Ach dinnae give me tha’ shite—”

“She’s got three kids Orla and an ex-husband—”

She gasped, leaning back like she was watching a soap opera, “no! John, ye dirty dog! Oh my god, have ye done anythin’?” she asked, face lit up like it was Christmas morning.

Price’s smile was a slow but sure thing, “mmm, just a kiss.”

“Stop it,” she squeaked, hand gripping Simon’s thigh, “really?! No!”

Simon rolled his eyes, but a grin was pushing up the corner of his lips as he watched Orla before Maisie made a soft sound, stealing his attention as he shifted her into the crook of his arm. She really was just a tiny wee thing, hardly bigger than the man’s bicep.

“You know, I was promised dinner for coming here. But I’m starting to think I was lied to—”

❀❀❀

Felicity was just pulling the grocery bags out of the trunk when she heard a car roll up behind her, her shoulders tensed, already knowing who it was and there was no way she could just ignore them like she had been doing. Instead, she turned and faced the music, “hi John.”

“Hey Effie, lookin’ good sweetheart,” he grinned, eyes openly lingering lower than eye-contact for a few seconds before meeting her again.

“John! You can’t—" the heat washing over her face was sudden, her words stumbling over each other to get out, “you can’t just—I said—”

“S’just a compliment love, didn’t mean nothin’ untoward by it—unless that’s what your thinkin’—”

“No!” she squeaked, nearly dropping her bags. Jesus, it was hot for the beginning of winter, her cheeks burned in the frozen breeze. “I mean—I—” when she looked up at him he was hiding his laugh behind a hand, eyes creased up in the corners, she glared, “oh shut up.” But she didn’t look away—couldn’t, not when her eyes snagged on his knuckles, a gasp escaped her, “how many tattoos do you have?!

Her groceries were forgotten on the pebbled concrete of her driveway and she was suddenly by his rolled down window, his hand was lifted between hers in seconds, examining the faded “hell bent” inked over the skin below his knuckles. They were old, turned slightly green and faded with time as part of the body, messed up by the few scars littered across his bones. He gave a soft chuckle, stretching out his fingers, “a few.”

Seemingly coming to her senses, Felicity sprang back, dropping his hand, fingers still tingling from the brush of his callouses. She forced out a laugh, the need to break the self-imposed silence forcing stupidity to arise from her mouth, “yeah, I got one or two in college.”

John’s brow rose, intrigue flaring in his eyes and Felicity knew she’d single handedly just drawn this conversation out, “yeah? Where?”

“Oh,” she laughed, swallowing thickly, looking at the houses across the street, nose scrunching, “just, like, around.”

He let out a laugh, “got some naughty little tattoos, sweetheart? Hm?”

The sound she let out at that made her eyes widen, something between a nervous laugh and a squawk, she promptly backtracked, “no, no, nothing like—no—um, have a nice night, John, yeah?”

John’s smile bloomed warm and amused across his face, all good natured and welcoming like always, and heat curled in the pit of Felicity’s stomach at the sight of it. “You too love. Same time tomorrow?”

“Might just work late on purpose,” she said quickly, her own snarky tone catching her off guard; definitely a thought she meant to keep in her head.

He cocked a brow, “hm.” And then he was pulling away and towards his driveway.

Felicity hightailed it up to her house, collecting her forgotten bags and locking her car behind her. Shit.

❀❀❀

Dinner hadn’t been a lively affair in the Parker household in a long time—now it was exasperated by Jackson coming home late from his track training, Toby claiming he wasn’t hungry and poking at his food, asking for something else, and Logan not even looking at anyone, eating but texting someone under the table.

The silence was broken only by Jackson inhaling his food and the scrape of forks against plates, spaghetti slowly disappearing from view.

Then all of a sudden, “I don’t like Kim. She’s such a bitch—”

“Toby—”

“No, she’s a bitch to you mom. I don’t like her. She wants me to call her mom—”

At that, Logan finally looked up from his phone, his tone awfully dry as he said, “you sound surprised.”

Jackson glanced up from his forkful of spaghetti half of it already drawn up to his mouth, eyes darting between his brothers and his mom warily.

“I don’t want her to marry dad,” Toby said finally, abandoning his fork on the edge of his plate, brows heavy over his eyes.

“That’s out of our control sweetheart,” Felicity started, her own eyebrows twisting softly, “if Kim marries your dad then that’s that, they’re married, we’ve just got to be respectful even if you don’t—”

“You said we—you don’t like her either—”

“No shit, notice how mom’s alone and Kim’s with—”

“Logan.” The syllables cut over Felicity’s tongue, a fierce lick of heat burning suddenly in her chest, searing the wound still tender over her heart, the spot that just refused to heal. She took a breath, looking at her kids all staring back at her with varying levels of caution, “let’s just have dinner.”

But tonight, the last Monday in November, was the night apparently, because Logan didn’t let her shirk the topic, “no, I want to know what happened—we deserve to know. Stop protecting him, we already know he’s an asshole—”

“No, he’s not!”

“He’s never here for us Toby, seriously, he’s got himself a new family—”

“But he’s my dad!” Felicity’s heart ached as she watched her youngest’s face redden, eyes shiny beneath his furrowed brow, “why are you always such an asshole?!”

“I don’t have my head up his—”

“Logan! Cut it out,” Felicity snapped but Toby was already out of his seat, storming upstairs, his door closing with a loud slam that made her ears flinch.

Jackson winced, looking between the last two at the table, he cleared his throat, standing with his empty plate, but he didn’t say anything before he left.

Felicity looked at Logan across the table, but he matched her with a glare, “go on. Tell me. Why did you and dad split up?”

She stuck to the usual explanation, not having the stomach to think about it; “we were growing apart, you know how we were arguing Logan, I didn’t want to raise—”

“But what were you always arguing about?” he insists, “was it her? Was it Kim?”

“What?”

“You know, she keeps telling Toby to stop referring to her as his stepmother—says she’s too young to be one. She can just be the fun mom.” He pulled a face, “I think she’s insane.”

“The fun mom?” she scoffed, getting to her feet, “that little—ugh—just because she’s young and—and—god, they’re so—” then she looked up at who she’s talking to, Logan suddenly looking a little more expressive than usual at the slight outburst, and she sighed, drooping like a shaded flower, “you guys don’t have to call her anything you don’t want to, okay? Just be…just…” her eyes burned with the shame of asking her child to do something she couldn’t, her chest squeezing, lungs too tight, “go to your room.”

She heard the chair creak slightly, but Logan hadn’t left. “When did you find out? —about dad cheating.”

“Logan—”

“I’m not fourteen anymore, Mom. This didn’t happen yesterday. Just tell me.”

“I don’t—I don’t know.” She bristled, wiping a hand down her face, smearing the tears that had gathered on her lashes. “He started to wear his nice clothes at work suddenly, was always on his phone, acting weird—overly helpful. Overcompensating. I just—I knew.”

“What?” he scoffed, nose wrinkling, “you didn’t have any proof—”

“Logan please,” she got up, taking her half-finished plate through to the kitchen, fatigue trailing at her heels, “stop with the—”

“Just tell me!” He was out of his seat now, following behind her. “Stop sugar coating everything. Stop acting like I don’t know what’s going on around me—like I don’t know what I’ve been doing to myself—” his voice cracked and took with it the last of Felicity’s composure, “I’m right here, just be honest for fucking once!”

“I walked in! Okay?!” she clutched the edge of the sink, face screwed up tight, as if she was trying to force the memory out of her mind’s eye—but it was too vivid. “I walked in on them during my lunchbreak and I felt so sick that I threw up after I kicked them out. But I didn’t want you to hate him like I did.” Her voice cracked, breath hitching. “I didn’t want you to push him away; you already had fourteen years with him. It would have been cruel to just do what I wanted and cut him off. You would’ve hated me. But—but you do anyway and I’m sorry everything got so—” the strength left her and she sagged against the counter, sobs hiccupping out of her as she buried her face in her hands.

It felt like an hour had passed before Logan broke the silence, “I don’t hate you.”

Felicity sniffled, finally turning to look at him, his face was a smear of her own through her watering eyes, “what?”

He shrugged, hand buried deep in the pockets of his sweats, “I just… everything was changing and you kept acting like it hadn’t and…and now you’re never here.”

“Oh, Logan,” the guilt was stifling—too much—the confession bubbling out of her, “I wanted to take you guys on vacation, during the summer, before you left for wherever it is you’ll go,” she admitted it like it was a sin, “so I’ve been working more, to save up because plane tickets are expensive and—”

“Jesus Christ, a plane?” disbelief was etched over his face, “where are you taking us?”

She shrugged, matching his, huffing a laugh, “overseas, I guess, I haven’t really picked a place yet—somewhere with beaches and nice stores and live shows—I really wanted to take you guys to a live show—”

He hung his head suddenly, his hand reaching up to tug the collar of his hoodie over his face, and she heard the shake in his voice when he croaked out a soft, “I’m sorry.”

When she hugged him, he was her baby again, even though she had to reach slightly to pull his head down to her shoulder, even if he didn’t wrap his arms around her like he used to—clinging to her like a koala to a tree—but she felt him lean in.

And that was enough. It always would be.

• • •

It was late, very late when the light next door woke John from his light doze on the couch downstairs, the credits of his movie rolling without him able to recall what the ending was. He blinked harshly, forcing himself to wake up instead of sleeping the night on the couch, stretching with a groan.

He got up, turning off the tv and the overhead light—it was definitely time for bed when he started yawning like that. He would always deny saying he was an old man, but in moments like these, his age started to creep up on him. Young enough to still do everything, but old enough to not protest the call of sleep. No, John Price was no stranger to a good after work nap.

Left in the dark, the light next door illuminated their kitchen like a scene on a television, framed by lace curtains. Felicity looked gorgeous, but that was no surprise, no, the surprise was the sight of her biting the inside of her cheek as she reached for something out of sight—a tub of ice cream, a fond smile tugged at his lips—and started fixing herself a bowl of it.

And one by one he watched Logan, Jackson, and Toby file in. She grabbed a bowl for each of them without even turning, asking something over her shoulder before reaching for more things from the fridge John couldn’t see. Late night sundaes, hm?

Emotional as ever, Logan elbowed Toby, saying something to the kid. Toby ignored him in turn, just tucking into his bowl.

Jackson hopped up on the counter, waving his spoon about and saying something that made Felicity’s shoulders shake with what John could only hope was laughter. Her back was turned so he’d never know.

She always looked so pretty when she laughed—he hoped one day he’d get to tell her that.

[mooncello]

wipsday: more than a footnote moodboard + playlist (+ extras)

One year ago, I posted the first chapter of more than a footnote. I had hoped I'd have the final chapter ready by this date, but I'm still editing. It will be live very soon.

For today, rather than an excerpt and spoilers, please enjoy this moodboard for chapter 9.

I'm also sharing a special chapter 9 playlist. These have been the songs on repeat as I write the final chapter.

Finally, I thought it might be fun to share a couple author notes and behind the scenes stuff. Read on if that's your cuppa tea.

Nearly there. 🖤

I've shared this before, but more than a footnote was only ever meant to be a distraction from a couple other wips that were giving me trouble last year. 5 chapters max, 16-20k. (lol) I love when characters surprise me.

Also unanticipated: Keris and Gareth. They were originally only gonna have a brief mention. I'm glad both decided to hang out a bit.

I'm proud of several lines throughout the fic but I think my absolute favorite is this one:

Dev, who moves like a cat, and fights like a bear, and whose smile is as sharp as a scythe but always feels like sunshine, and whenever I see it, I don’t want to look at anything else.

Okay, one more. I wrote this for chapter 9, and I'm in love with it *but* it might end up getting axed. Please enjoy it here.

I think of the Crucible pairing Niall and I together, and how immediately enchanted I was by his orange hair and his teeth too big for his head. How we had practically nothing in common, until we did, and we kept choosing each other, in assignments, in mischief, in friendship, until he became the most important person in my life.

I still love the cravens.

Fashion plays such a big role in this fic. While my personal style is more like Dev, I adore Niall's clothes. He's such a casual, preppy nerd. I think my favorite outfit of his is the "Sorbonne student" one during the spring dance. Everything oversized. His cuffed trousers. Fluttering sleeves by his bony elbows. And he looks so good in green, with his copper hair.

Niall is the oldest of the trio. His birthday is September 27 (which is a cube number and makes his brain happy). Dev's birthday is December 5. (Mutable. Fire. Sag baby.)

I've shared Dev's playlist before. I'm working on Niall's study mix. I hc that Niall enjoys a lot of different music genres, and he almost exclusively studies to synth and electronic music. Anything with a repetitive beat that can run in the background of his big beautiful brain. One of his favorite bands is Air, a French duo from the 90s, and he's been searching for their Moon Safari vinyl for years. (Dev finds it in a tiny record shop in London, and gives it to Ni the Christmas after they graduate Watford.)

I have an entire backstory of Niall's mums, Bridget and Paloma. I won't get into it here but DM me or send an ask if you ever want to know more. Same goes for my other OC Clark.

Did I have a secret motive to write a fic that would make people fall in love with Dev Pitch? MAYBE.

While writing, when a scene wasn't working, I'd go walk the dog and listen to a character playlist or song that fit the scene, on repeat, and just let my brain play, picking up pieces, seeing if they fit, working thru literal sentences in my head like those word fridge magnets. Without fail, this method worked every time. So the real MVP of this story is my dog.

Finally: It's difficult for me to finish wips. Because I self-sabotage with doubt. I'll have an idea and soft outline, but then once I get a few chapters in, I doubt the direction, the choices I've made, to the point where I freeze up and can no longer trust myself, or any creative choices. While I did have one notable plot point in this fic I doubted by the time I got to it (the bonfire scene) and I needed my betas to hold my hand, this story unfolded in the way I originally imagined. Far longer and richer and deeper than anticipated. And certain scenes evolved and shifted. But the overall arc stayed. This might be the first time I’ve finished something in which I trusted my writing instincts. Even when it was hard. Even when I thought nobody is gonna like this or that. I stayed the course, and allowed the characters to take me on side quests. The process both structured and flexible.

Alright, I've gotta go catch a train. Thanks for hanging with me. 🖤

HAPPY PRIDE 🌈✌️

thanks for the tags today @monbons @whatevertheweather and @thewholelemon

tagging manually today so apologies if I miss someone!

@whatevertheweather @artsyunderstudy @cutestkilla @valeffelees @bookish-bogwitch

@drowninginships @rimeswithpurple @iamamythologicalcreature @leithillustration @alexalexinii

@fatalfangirl @larkral @orange-peony @hushed-chorus @run-for-chamo-miles

@brilla-brilla-estrellita @theimpossibledemon @fiend-for-culture @emeryhall @j-trow-95

@you-remind-me-of-the-babe @ileadacharmedlife @best--dress @confused-bi-queer @messofthejess

[gummydummy19]

A White Christmas

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Male Reader

Summary: You and your boyfriend Steve have the tower to yourself this Christmas :))

Content Warnings: Smut (handjob, use of toys, cum eating, anal, top M reader, bottom Steve Rogers, slight degradation, daddy kink...), fluff, horrible Christmas puns :))

A/N: @sozombiearcade thank you so much for this lovely Christmas request and for being so patient with me <3, I hope you enjoy it. Merry Christmas everyone!!xxx

Word Count: 1860+

The streets of New York were packed. People desperately scattered around trying to find a last-minute Christmas present. It was absolutely freezing, or at least that's what it looked like. You were nice and warm up in Stark Tower, with a book on your lap.

You smiled to yourself as you glanced over to the big, beautiful Christmas tree, the neatly wrapped present you bought your boyfriend immediately catching your eye.

The Tower is quiet, aside from your Christmas playlist you have on repeat. Thor and Loki went back to Asgard, Nat and Bruce went over to Clint and his family during the Holidays, Sam invited Bucky to join him and his sister for Christmas dinner and Tony took Pepper skiing in Aspen. Leaving you and your boyfriend Steve alone in the Tower, which you had decorated excessively.

The smell of gingerbread slowly invades your senses and you hear Steve hum along with "Jingle Bells" from the kitchen. Sadly, his happy humming stops and gets replaced by an upset whine and a naughty word or two.

'Language!', you yell with a grin, but when you don't hear a reply, you decide to put your book aside and make your way to the kitchen.

'Stevie, everything okay?' you ask as you stick your head through the doorframe. Steve is looking down at his tray of freshly baked cookies with a defeated look.

"What's wrong, honey? They look great!" you ask as you walk closer.

"I forgot to buy icing." The look on his face breaks your heart, but admittedly the little pout on his face is quite adorable. Truth be told, he has been looking insanely good all day.

Steve is not only an attractive man, he also cares a lot about hygiene. Back in the 40s he didn't have all the luxuries he has today, and when he goes on missions he sometimes can't shower or shave for weeks. So when he's home, he showers and shaves every single morning after his run. He hates body hair, so he was always perfectly sleek...everywhere.

"Oh Stevie, that's okay...they still look good without the icing," you reassure him, looking down at the gingerbread men.

"They look naked." he points out with a frown on his face.

You grin, pulling Steve closer and pressing a sweet kiss on his neck. "I do love my men naked..." you mumble as you nibble on his ear, hoping to cheer him up a little.

Unfortunately, the defeated look on Steve's face didn't go away that easily. "Aw, Stevie..." you cooed, wrapping your arms around him, "you know I hate to see you sad," your lips found his neck again while your arms squeezed him tighter to your chest.

Steve's breath hitched when you found his sweet spot, nibbling on it while your hands gently grabbed his hips, pulling his ass flush against your hardening cock. His hands grabbed the counter for balance as he whined, feeling your bulge grind against his ass.

"I'm sure we can figure something out...let me turn that frown upside down, baby, hmm?"

"Yes, daddy", Steve moaned obediently.

"Wanna touch daddy's cock? Hmm? Would that make you happy? Wanna jerk me off, baby?", you teased.

"Yes, daddy..." he whined.

"Ask daddy nicely, baby,"

"Please, daddy, please," he bucked his hips forward.

"Please, what?" you taunted.

"Please can I touch you, daddy, can I jerk you off, please..." he begged.

"Good boy...of course baby, c'mere," you packed up a little, allowing Steve to turn around. He immediately dropped to his knees and pulled down your sweats, noticing that you were already rock-hard.

"What a slutty boy..." you groaned, spitting in your hand before reaching down to stroke your hard cock.

You groaned at the feeling, letting your eyes fall shut for a second until you heard Steve whine impatiently.

You looked down at him, "Touch daddy's cock, Stevie", you commanded and he immediately did as he was told, squeezing your dick tightly as he stroked it up and down before twisting his first over your tip.

As you felt yourself creep closer to the edge, the tray of cookies caught your eye. You reached over, pulling it closer while Steve sped up his movements around your throbbing cock.

"That's it, baby...be a good boy and make daddy cum."

It only took a couple more strokes until you fell over the edge with a loud groan. Your body shook a little as you tried your best to aim for the platter, covering the gingerbread men with your sticky, white cum.

"Fuck, Steve...", you couldn't help but groan, "good fucking boy..."

You pulled him up against you, fumbling to pull your sweatpants up in the meantime. You let him drop his head on your shoulder as you did the same. Your mouth found the pulse point on his neck, feeling his rapid heartbeat against your lips.

You looked at the counter, observing the wonderful mess you had made. "Look at that, Stevie...your gingerbread men aren't so naked anymore", you grinned, picking up one of the cookies that was covered in cum and bringing it to his mouth. He took a large bite, savoring your familiar taste.

"Delicious...", he hummed, looking at you in adoration. You couldn't help but pull him in for a passionate kiss, tasting the sweetness of his cookies and the saltiness of your...icing.

"I think you deserve to open one of your Christmas presents early, what do you think?"

"Yeah?", he blushed and you nodded, taking his hand and pulling him to the living room.

"Say, Stevie, have you been naughty or nice this year?" you smirked and you pushed your boyfriend back on the couch.

"Is that a trick question?" he grinned, making you smile.

"Hmm," you couldn't help but kiss him again before getting up and grabbing a neatly wrapped box from under the tree.

"Naughty and/or nice, you've definitely been my good boy this year", you praised.

Steve gently ripped open the packaging, his cheeks tinting red again as he saw what you had gifted him. It was a navy blue, vibrating stroker.

"Do you like it?", you asked, grinning when Steve nodded franticly.

"Wanna try it?", you asked, trying to contain the twinkle in your eyes.

He nodded again, this time a bit more shy.

"You want uh...do you wanna...or...you want me to...uhm...", he stuttered, making you chuckle before leaning in closer.

"I wanna use it on you, Stevie, if that's okay?"

"Y-yeah, yes, absolutely."

His enthusiasm alone made your cock stir again.

"That's my good boy," you mumbled against his lips, "take off your pants and play with yourself while I go get the lube,"

Steve's pants hit the floor before you even made it out of the living room. When you got back, merely a couple seconds later, you found him panting on the couch with his cock in his hand.

"Merry Christmas indeed," you stated, dropping down next to him. Your hand quickly took over from his, pumping him a couple times until he was a moaning mess.

"Turn around", you commanded and he obeyed immediately, giving you a clear view of his shaven asshole.

"Fuck, you know, I hate it when they call this America's ass. This is my ass, all mine," you grumbled, giving his cheek a good squeeze followed by a light smack.

"Ah...yes, daddy, all yours, please touch me, daddy", he pleaded.

"Yeah? Want me to touch you? Want daddy to fill your stocking, hm?"

Steve couldn't help but giggle a little at your awful pun, earning him another spank.

"Shut up," you chuckled, before reaching to grab the lube and applying a good amount on his bare hole and your fingers.

Steve moaned loudly as you slid a finger inside, prepping him for your hardening cock. You slowly worked him open, adding another finger while your other hand gently traced his skin.

"Ready for my cock, Stevie?" you questioned after a couple minutes, noticing he was getting harder and more desperate.

"Yes, please...please"

You used some more lube to cover your cock, stroking it a few times before pressing it to Steve's hole. Slowly but steadily you slid inside him. Both of you let out a string of whines and groans, your hands holding onto his hips as you fucked him slowly from behind.

You gave him some time to adjust before you grabbed the toy, adding a little bit of lube to that as well.

"C'mere, Stevie, lean up a bit...like this", you gently grabbed his shoulder, making him lean his back against your chest so you had easier access to his smoothly-shaven cock. The toy slid over him with ease.

"Oh shit, daddy!" he moaned when you turned up the vibrations, stroking the toy while starting to fuck into him again.

"Fuck, baby, doing so good, my good boy", you praised as you picked up the pace, positively destroying his asshole.

Your free hand roamed over his strong, hairless chest, pinching his nipple in the process.

"Ah, f-fuck..." he stuttered, his head lulling back against your shoulder.

you chuckled, "You like it when I play with your nipples, hmm? Such a desperate little slut...look at you, I've only just started and your cock is already leaking", you taunted, feeling the sticky drops land on your fingers.

"Please, daddy...fuck, that feels so good..."

That was your cue to turn up the vibrations, making Steve keen in pleasure. His hands for your arms, trying to keep himself grounded.

You angled your hips up a little, hitting his spot perfectly.

"Fuuucckk, daddy, right there! Please please please can I cum? Can I cum please m'so close...", he begged, tears welling in his eyes.

"Cum for me you fucking slut, cum for me while I fuck your ass."

And he did. Hard.

Steve's cum shot out of his dick in thick ropes, covering his own stomach and chest.

You fucked him roughly through his high, before discarding the toy and pulling out of him.

"Turn around!" you roared, as you jerked yourself off at a fast pace, ready to tumble over the edge.

Steve clumsily dropped to his knees, just in time to catch the hot spurts of cum all over his face.

You yelled out his name, screwing your eyes shut as pleasure consumed you.

"Fucking hell..." you huffed out. Your eyes fluttered open and you were met with an absolutely ruined Steve, leaning exhausted against the couch, covered in both your and his own cum.

You dropped down beside him, pulling him close. "You did so good for me, you're so hot, so perfect...", you mumbled, trying to bring him back down to earth with sweet words and gentle kisses.

"You okay?", you asked, taking in his fucked out look.

"Hmm", was all he could muster, looking at you with a dopey grin plastered all over his face.

"Looks like you got a white Christmas this year, huh?", you grinned.

"Oh, shut up", he chuckled, playfully hitting your shoulder.

The two of you cuddled for a while after that, before taking a nice hot shower together. Though in hindsight, that might have been a bit pointless, since Steve still had to give you his gift too....

Taglist;

@metalbuckaroo @princessayveke @montsepliego @scxrletrecsmarvel @hopelesslyrogers @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @tfandtws @vicmc624 @ahahafudge @enchantedbarnes @wickedravyn @pono-pura-vida @amayaraestyles @matchat3a @fictional-hooman @sebastianexplicit @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @jamneuromain @tryingtoliveonmywishes @mrsevans90 @daybreak96 @tiredqueen73 @fallingforunrealisticromance @identity2212 @randomweirdoss @ragamuffin285 @juliaorpll78 @geralts-yenn @imjusthereforliam @bangtanstoeart @squeezyvalkyrie @enchantedbytomandhenry @superduckmilkshake @kingliam2019 @bascmve01 @missgaygurl @foxyjwls007 @mollymal @urmomsgirlfriend1 @luxeydior

[akashirl]

[the cut that always bleeds]

1:03 ──⚬──── 3:45

⇆ ◃◃ ıı ▹▹ ↻

« but even though you're killing me...i need you like the air i breathe.»

♡

today's category gives me an excuse to post our playlist...there are many songs that remind me of sei, but lately, this one has been on repeat. i'm no good with words but i'm sure you understand that feeling when you consume someone so much to the point where the thought of them physically causes an ache-? if that makes any sense. i hope it does. conan gray expressed it pretty well, i believe.

🏀 | my crazy mutuals: @pinkreveluv6 @japeneselunchtimerush @sweijuro @pigeonbksimp @ilovemaiubo

event by @strawbeaniie !!

[arcadekitten]

Hii so I have a few questions about Dr. D. Light ! I looked through his tag to make sure I wouldn't ask any repeats of questions that have already been asked before but sorry if I do. Also most of these questions are asked in the hypothetical of if he lived today in the modern world lol !

What would he wear as casual clothes? I know you've said he wouldn't take off his mask, but would he show skin (such as shorts of short sleeve shirts), what style is he most drawn to (Emo, kidcore, cottage, gothic, ouji) especially if the story was set in modern day.

What's his favorite foods and drinks? Would he be fond of fast food, does he have any allergies, does he like seafood, etc.

What is his favorite movie, show, and book if he even has one? How about games? What genres does he enjoy the most !

What music artists would he like, songs in general? I kinda wanna make a playlist for him which is why I'm asking ! Does he know how to play any instruments?

Do you think he might like anime? If so then what animes, and what characters do you think would be his favorite? Asking because he's always kind of reminded me of All Might from My Hero Academia personality wise in the way where both are very bubbly and sweet but have a passion for helping others (also both are mischaracterized as being dumb for some reason just because they're nice? What's up with that?). But he also reminds me of Present Mic, that one a little less.

Are you fine with crackships? Such as shipping Dr. D. Light with characters from other medias?

What languages does he speak, where is he from if you have any idea of that?

A bit unrelated but what's your favorite color?

I'll think of more questions to ask in the meantime, but one last question. Are you okay with people asking questions in bulk like this, or would you prefer them to all be asked in separate asks?

Have a good day !

-🎙️

Oh my, so many!! I'll try to answer your questions the best I can!!

1: I'm honestly not sure what he'd wear as casual clothing! To be honest I always only see him in some kind of plague-doctor-dressing no matter what, haha!

2: Dr. D. Light is a fan of generally healthy foods like fruits and vegetables, I think he really likes oranges!! But like he says in INMIMB he also enjoys a glass of milk with cookies every now and again! ♡

3: I'm honestly not sure what his favorite genres would be! He probably enjoys comedies and light-hearted media a lot, but I can see him being invested in a good drama every now and again.

4: I'm also not too sure about music! I feel like he's the kind of guy to like the music of people playing their instruments on the street and looking for tips. Something light-hearted and fun to dance to! I don't think he knows any instruments himself.

5: I honestly don't know about anime haha in his case! He probably doesn't know what that is!

6: Yeah, rarepairs and stuff are fine!!

7: He speaks common noisrevian! Remember that they're not from Earth!

8: My favorite color is purple! ♡

9: Tbh I don't mind either way! BUT!! Keep in mind if you ask questions in bulk, and there's a question I consider spoilery thrown into the mix, then I won't answer the bulk questions! Something to consider!

[nwjws]

while you were sleeping - pjs

; PAIRING - jay x gn!reader

; SYNOPSIS - in which you’ve had the same album on repeat, unable to get it out of your mind. just like how jay, your roommate, can’t seem to get you out of his.

; WC - 1.4k (minus the lyrics)

; TAGS - college roommates au, fluff, from jay's pov, based off laufey's 'while you were sleeping' ; WARNINGS - not proofread

i still can't believe that you noticed me

mindlessly scrolling on your phone, you patiently wait for your roommate, park jay, to finish cooking up some breakfast. a comfortable silence has settled between you two, with the only sounds being the sizzling oil on the pan and your humming.

"you've been listening to the same 14 songs for the past week."

"what?" you ask, looking up at him. you stare at his back, broad shoulders exposed by his tank top.

he turns his head to look back at you over his shoulder, raising a perfect eyebrow. you realise then what he's saying.

laufey had released a new album last week, and you literally haven't played any other song outside of it since it dropped. you can feel jay judging you, but you just shrug at him. you were definitely not stopping.

"so what if i've had bewitched on repeat? can you deny that they're good?" you challenged him.

"no, of course not," he chuckled to himself, turning back to the pan. "i'm just surprised you haven't gotten sick of it yet."

"i would never get sick of laufey," you say with mock offence.

"alright, then," he said with a teasing undertone.

you wanted to retort, but he placed a plate in front of you, making you forget what you were going to say.

"hey, you have a later clinical today, right?" he asked as you two dug in.

"mhm."

"take the box i left in the fridge with you before you go then. its some extra lunch i made so you'd have enough energy to get through the day."

"thank you," you say appreciatively. "you really don't have to do that every time i have a heavier day."

"well, if i have time to, then i don't see why i shouldn't."

"what about you? what are you doing today?"

"my professor cancelled class today, so i'll go check out if i can bother heeseung or jake."

"i'll pray for whichever victim you choose, then," you joke.

"maybe i won't make you extra lunch next time," he pouted playfully.

"no, no. those actually really help me. god knows if i didn't score you as my roommate, i would have passed out several times by now."

"grateful to be of service"

after breakfast, jay lounges around the apartment as you're getting ready. some show plays on the tv, but it doesn't drown out the sound of must be love playing from your speakers.

you shout your leaving when you exit the shared apartment, and jay wishes you a good day. he watches you close the door, leaving him completely alone.

i'll never forget the first time i saw you then

when he drives to the shopping centre with jake later that day, he pauses mid-sentence when he realises something.

"is everything good?" his friend asks.

"yeah, i just recognised the song playing."

"really? you listen to from the start by laufey?" jake asks. he had decided to connect his phone to jay's carplay, and had been in the one in control of the playlist.

"not really, but my roommate does."

"y/n? that's pretty cool. they've got good music taste," he replies.

"they've had her newest album on repeat since she dropped it," jay laughs, eyes on the road.

"do you find that annoying?"

"of course not, it's funny seeing them prance around the apartment, belting their heart out," he laughs at a memory of you singing at the top of your lungs. "i guess i'm more of a second-hand listener now? if that's even a thing."

"probably," jake shrugs.

a light pink bouquet, a promise you'll stay and i start to believe

the two had decided to eat out at wagamama's first, before anything else.

"i think i'll get the pad thai," tells the waitor, who nods and notes it on his ipad.

"hm, i'm feeling like trying the grilled chicken ramen," jay says. "oh, could i also get the miso mixed vegetable salad to-go?"

"sure," the waitor replies. he pockets the small device in his apron, and leaves for the kitchen.

"you ordered another meal?" the younger asks curiously.

"me and y/n go here often. of course, i had to get them something. usually, they'll go for the typical miso salad, or some curry, but they've decided they wanted to try being vegan recently. so i got the vegan one," jay explains nonchalantly.

"wow, you really care a lot about them, huh?"

"of course, we're sharing the rent, after all. have to be a good roommate, otherwise they'll leave and i'll have to pay the bills on my own."

"maybe i should get a roommate," jake chuckles. "but i don't think i'd be able to get someone like you."

"i'd feel sorry for whoever ends up with you," jay teases him. "and anyway, they're a good roommate. they do the laundry for the both of us, and we usually spend the weekends cleaning together."

"you guys are so lucky," is all jake says.

i don't recognise myself ; who've i become?

jake dragged jay into their third clothing shop that day, despite jay's protests. in self-defence, jake whines about needing some new shoes.

"don't you have like, thirty pairs? what could you possibly need another one for?"

"actually, i only have twenty-eight. and i need one for graduation, of course."

"right, because none of your almost-thirty pairs suffice," jay rolls his eyes.

"don't act like you dont have seventy pairs of the same polo shirt."

"i don't!"

"i've seen your closet, don't lie to me."

jay sighs and leaves jake to wander around the shop on his own.

"there you go again, buying another shirt," jake's voice sighs from behind jay fifteen minutes later.

"not for me," jay shakes his head. he turns to show the clothing piece to his friend. "for y/n. this is definitely their style, and it'll fit them so well. they have a pair of shoes that are this exact colour, so it would be good outfit if they sandwhich it with any bottom piece they choose."

"you think a lot about your roommate," jake raises his eyebrow at him.

"i see them all the time, why wouldn't i?" jay asks.

"no, like, you think too much about y/n considering you're 'only roommates'," he says with a quote gesture.

"stop suggesting weird things," jay walks ahead to the counter, leaving jake to follow behind.

"is it really so weird, though? if you like y/n like that?"

jay just ignores him, and pays for the shirt. it's not, he thinks to himself, because it's not a new thought either.

i trace it all back, 3:30 am that night something turned in my heart

"thank you, jay," you hug him when he shows you what he got. "you really need to stop buying me things."

"i can't help it," he smiles. "when i see something that reminds me of you, i just feel like i have to get it."

"with how often you buy me things, i'd say a lot of things remind you of me, huh?"

"seems like it..." he scratches his nape, awkwardly avoiding eye contact with you. thanks jake, he scowls in his mind. now he can't stop thinking about what he said earlier.

you and jay decide to watch a movie the next night, since it was a friday, and neither of you had to be up early the next day.

but jay couldn't focus on the tv when you two were basically cuddling under the shared blanket on the sofa. his skin prickled where his arm hung around your shoulder, and the weight of your head on his made him feel light and airy.

the warmth of your body seeped through your clothes, and brought him immense comfort. your sweet scent filled his nose, subconsciously recognising it to be one of the perfumes he'd bought you.

it was only when the movie ended he realised he hadn't been watching at all. and neither were you, if your light snores were any indication.

he huffed amusedly to himself, and shifted on the sofa to get you two in a more comfortable position, actually lying down. reaching for the remote, he carefully switched off the tv, leaving the only source of light to be a soft, warm yellow coming from a corner lamp.

jay stared at your features, illuminated by the dim light. he realised right then, in the comfort of your arms, far into the night, what he felt for you.

while you were sleeping, i fell in love.

; AUTHOR'S CORNER! do u guys ever feel like throwing up at your own work? ALSO THANK YOU FOR 200 this is my offer of thanks 🤭

; TAGLIST - @lovelovelovebts @miyseung @babyy-bambii

[hirunoka]

I've already said I thought Wade Wilson and Mickey Barnes would make such good friends and I want to talk about it actually

Like @lmpshade said:

Yeah, because Wade would get it. He would know how much it hurt every damn time.

He would be good for Mickey, and Mickey would be good for Wade, too; he would just let him be, and no doubt his presence could ground Wade. I can imagine Wade sitting next to Mickey in silence. Together, they both could just be themselves.

Mickey would find Wade's behavior refreshing, and wouldn't flinch at his dark humor. Imagine the conversations they would have. These two would have the most absurd conversations.

And I'm sure Wade would be Mickey's "bad day buddy" and vice versa.

Got printed again and feeling like shit? That sucks, time to get some tacos. Wait, no tacos on this damn planet? Hell no, fuck this planet then, no cycler paste today, gotta hijack a supply ship to snuggle some in! If that's not possible, Wade would insist on making some himself with... whatever questionable ingredients they have. Sorry, bunnies.

"Listen, buddy, I’ve eaten waaaay worse. And I'm still alive! Hey, don't give me that look, you are missing my point. These are gonna be so great, Mick! Shut up White, that was just one time."

Mickey, very skeptical but also kinda amused, ends up trying them and just sighs, "I'm sorry, but this is not a taco. This is just, I don't even know what the hell it is."

But Wade is just happy that he was able to make Mickey smile, so it was worth it.

Existential dread creeping in? Wade’s got a playlist for that, of course. Time to dance, bring Nasha! She is a better dancer than you, Mickey. But we can teach you.

Wade would treat Mickey right. He wouldn't see him as a concept, wouldn't see him as "the expendable guy"— he’d see him as Mickey. And he would do everything to stop this bullshit and he would sacrifice himself/cover for him whenever he can, but that's another story. I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to start a Mickey Revolution. "Bring all the Mickeys in, rise up! Yeah there are 112 Mickeys now thanks to me and Nasha, deal with it, Hulk. You should be grateful it's Mickey and not Edward."

And no doubt Nasha would get along with Wade. Wade would have crazy respect for Nasha. Yellow would be a big fan, too.

"... hey guys, how about we start calling the creepers, hmm, jellybeans instead? Because of their shape and all. But mostly because they are so adorable, you know, once you get to know them.

"Maybe we should call them Wadeys. Or Waders."

"I don't know if I should be offended or flattered. "

"Knowing Nasha, you should be flattered."

*

"Mickey said it was one of your bad skin days, so I brought some creams, they should help. Want me to put on Golden Girls for you? Are the voices loud today?"

***

"Sometimes I feel like I just don’t even know who I am anymore."

"Oh buddy, I got you. Sit down, take a deep breath, and repeat after me: 'I'm Mickey Barnes. I am my own person. I am valid. I am amazing.' You can even go full Jack Dawnson, if you wish. But try 'I'm the king of this shitty planet' instead of 'the world' maybe."

"I'm not doing that. I feel ridiculous."

"Oh you are sooo doing that. C'mon, repeat after me. I'm Mickey—"

"Okay okay, my God. I'll do it, just stop."

*a minute later *

"Do you feel better?"

" …A little. I guess?"

"See? That’s the power of 'Wade Wilson’s Totally Not Bullshit Therapy' You can thank me later."

"I feel like I should be worried about the name."

"You shouldn’t. Now gimme a hug, you emotionally repressed sunshine boy."

You got my point, right? :')

[fluentmoviequoter]

Our Songs

Requested Here! Here's the Instagram video that inspired this amazing request!!

Pairing: David "Deacon" Kay x fem!wife!reader

Summary: Deacon sings your song every chance he gets, but when he finds out why you love to hear him sing, he introduces more Sinatra into your life.

Warnings: fluff!!! song lyrics are italicized! if you're only interested in Deacon x reader, stop at the double divider because there's a baby past that break.

Word Count: 1.0k+ words

Playlist (in order of inclusion): I've Got You Under My Skin, You Make Me Feel So Young, The Best is Yet To Come, From the Bottom to the Top, All My Tomorrows (all by Frank Sinatra)

Picture from Pinterest (crossing my fingers that I haven't used this one already but not taking the time to check)

Deacon Kay is a man of many talents. Since meeting Deacon and falling in love with him, every day, you learn about a talent you haven’t seen before. There’s nothing he can’t do, as far as you’re concerned, and you become more convinced of this after you get married.

When you get home from a long day, Deacon is in the kitchen, and you’re greeted by a mouth-watering scent. You take a deep breath, releasing the tension and stress left over from the day. Walking toward the kitchen, you stop when you hear Deacon humming. As you lean against the island, you watch his back as he stirs a pot on the stove before bending to check the pan in the oven. His humming continues, and you close your eyes as you place the song. It played during your first date, and Deacon decided it was your song, so you played it at your wedding, on your honeymoon, and many times after.

“You know,” you begin quietly, “if I’d known you sounded better than Sinatra sooner, you would’ve been asked to sing at the wedding.”

Deacon smiles as he turns toward you. “You flatter me.”

“You make it easy.”

Deacon pulls you against him, hugging you tightly. He loosens his grip on you, but you keep your cheek pressed to his chest, his steady heartbeat a reminder of how much love you share with him. Deacon rubs your back before he sways you gently, humming again before he starts singing.

“I'd tried so, not to give in

I said to myself this affair never will go so well

But why should I try to resist when baby I know so well

I've got you under my skin

I'd sacrifice anything come what might

For the sake of having you near

In spite of a warning voice that comes in the night

And repeats, repeats in my ear.”

“I love you,” you say against Deacon’s chest.

He pushes you out and spins you, smiling at your laugh as you lay your arms over his shoulders, hooking your hands behind his neck. Deacon wraps his arms around your waist, looking into your eyes as he begins singing again.

“You make me feel so young

You make me feel there are songs to be sung

Bells to be rung

And a wonderful fling to be flung

And even when I'm old and gray

I'm gonna feel the way I do today

'Cause you make me feel so young

You make me feel so young

You make me feel so spring has sprung

And every time I see you grin

I'm such a happy individual.”

“I’m going to fall in love with you again,” you murmur.

“Then I’m never going to stop singing,” Deacon replies, then kisses your forehead.

“Hondo will love that; you can kick down a door and then sing ‘Fly Me to the Moon.’”

“Why limit it to Sinatra? There has to be better breaching music.”

You hum in agreement, using your hands behind Deacon’s neck to pull him into a kiss. When you pull back, ready for dinner, you remind Deacon that you love him more than any song could capture or explain.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you wake up the following morning, it’s still dark outside, but Deacon’s voice is floating in from the bathroom.

“Wait 'til your charms are right for these arms to surround

You think you've flown before, but baby, you ain't left the ground

Wait 'til you're locked in my embrace

Wait 'til I draw you near

Wait 'til you see that sunshine place

Ain't nothin' like it here

The best is yet to come, and babe, won't it be fine?

The best is yet to come, come the day you're mine

Come the day you're mine

And you're gonna be mine.”

You smile as he enters the bedroom, and he returns to his rightful place beside you.

“Sorry if I woke you up,” Deacon apologizes.

“You didn’t. But I wouldn’t want to wake up to anything else.”

“I’m starting to think you love the singing more than me.”

“The opposite,” you explain. “I love the singing because it’s you.”

Deacon kisses you, and you smile into the kiss.

✯✯✯✯✯

✯✯✯✯✯

“And when we have a little Deacon? What will you sing then?” you ask, making yourself comfortable against Deacon’s side.

With your heart pressed to his, Deacon quickly decides on a song.

“From the Bottom to the Top,” he answers.

“I may need a demonstration.”

Deacon kisses you, distracting you from your question. He hums into the kiss, and you pull yourself closer, enjoying the joy of being wholly in love with Deacon.

✯✯✯✯✯

The nursery is empty when you wake. Walking through the house, you hear Deacon and follow his voice.

“Everything I got

No, it's not a lot

From the bottom to the top

You can have all of me

I will try at one o'clock, two o'clock, three o'clock, four

To keep you satisfied

I will try those anything, everything, anything more

To hold you by my side

You can make me laugh

You can make me cry

You can change my heart

If you'll only try

By the stars above

You can have my love.”

When you find Deacon sitting by the patio door, looking down at your baby, you can't help but smile. Moving to sit beside him, you lean your head on Deacon’s shoulder.

“Takes after you,” Deacons says softly. “The moment I start singing, the crying stops.”

“Because you sing from love,” you point out. “And we know you love us.”

“That I do,” Deacon agrees, turning to kiss you.

Your baby coos against Deacon’s chest, and you chuckle as you kiss his jaw.

“I think we need an encore.”

Deacon smiles at you before singing,

“Today I may not have a thing at all

Except for just a dream or two

But I've got lots of plans for tomorrow

And all my tomorrows belong to you.”

“All of my tomorrows are you, Mr. Kay," you whisper.

“And mine are you, Mrs. Kay.”

[digitaldiary]

story_mode_save_002

"GROUNDHOG_DAY"

april 5th, 2025

I'm sitting in a park in Midtown Manhattan, the same park where I sat almost exactly two years ago and bawled my eyes out. Snot and tears running, little care for appearances or the people around me. I'm pretty sure I'm sitting on the exact same bench as well. At the time I had just ended a long-term, long distance relationship and subsequently plunged myself into a spontaneous short-term fling that was supposed to be fun. The sum of the two consecutive events was much more soul-crushing than fun, but eventually became metamorphosing. On this bench, I had been crushed.

I am once again heartbroken, this time over a different romantic situation. I find myself on the same bench today, mostly numb but still experiencing plenty of pain at a subsurface level. This time, I am heartbroken over a boy that lives across the country from me who I’m in love with. I suppose that what we had was also meant to be fun, and this time I actually did have quite a lot of fun with him. But now, we’ve gone our separate ways and I’m back here on this bench at the not fun part. It turns out that while love can be something magical and powerful, it can also be embarrassingly and unromantically thwarted by stupid human things like distance and logistics. Boo.

As cold, bitter wind blows, my fingers that are typing this now mimic the current feeling of my spirit - numb but still in plenty of pain. Through similar experiences I have begun to find myself welcoming the pain, I think I prefer it over being numb. Other times, pain becomes so unbearable that I pray to be numb. And then I pray for other sad things.

I’ve been thinking a lot about existence and identity lately. My motto as of recent has been “one day we will all be dust”. My finite existence informs the way that I live - nothing matters and nothing means anything, so I am truly the master of my own fate. I create value in what matters to me and I make meaning for myself. Nothing matters and nothing means anything, so I decide that everything matters and everything can mean anything that I want it to mean. 

So does it mean something that I’ve found myself in a bit of a Groundhog Day, sitting on this familiar bench, undergoing a familiar heartbreak? I am starting to see the patterns in everything. The boy from 2 years ago that had me crying on this bench in the first place was artsy and creative with a beautiful dog and a beautiful home. The boy I’m currently heartbroken over is artsy and creative with a beautiful dog and a beautiful home. The fact that boy #2 lived across the country didn’t really faze me when I started falling for him - logistics were not considered where passion and potential flared. Either way, it’s landed me here, back in this park, back on this bench. Crushed.

It’s through the patterns in my life that I’ve come to find myself, when very often I feel unreal and unrecognizable. It’s a very Sam thing to be hopelessly romantic. It’s a very Sam thing to choose the color blue. It’s a very Sam thing to love recklessly. It’s a very Sam thing to forget to return objects to their proper places. It’s a very Sam thing to take my socks off when I get home and throw them somewhere. It’s a very Sam thing to blast my UK rap playlist in my headphones at 8AM. It’s a very Sam thing to nap for 3 hours on the weekend. It’s a very Sam thing to make it a point to remember small details about loved ones. It’s a very Sam thing to wonder, then wonder, then wonder some more. When I lose myself, when I forget who I am or if I’m real, it’s these behaviors and repeated patterns that guide me home. Sure, behaviors can change over time or be disrupted, but it’s the repetition of these patterns that outline the shape of who I am. Who am I, if not my patterns? Through these patterns I recognize myself. I'm starting to see them in everything.