#and a lot of the ones I picked out for him are complex in folds

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

starting on eclipse's bouquet...

[promise-you-doie]

J. Jaehyun | Coming Home

After hitting a dead end in your job search, you reluctantly return home to stay with your mom. However, fate has other plans as you unexpectedly cross paths with an old flame. Sparks fly as you navigate the complexities of past feelings and present circumstances, reigniting a passionate connection that refuses to be ignored.

Jaehyun x reader (Exes to lovers)

6k words

Fluff, Angst, Suggestive.

Playlist

As a little girl, you had this idyllic vision of what your adult life would be like. You thought by the time you entered your 20s, you would have graduated from college and easily walked into your dream career. But now, as an adult, you're confronted with the harsh realities of life. You only have $300 to your name, a coupon for a free pizza from your go-to pizza place, and a tech degree that seems to be of no use. To make matters worse, you've ruined your credit during your college years, and you've just ended a three-year relationship. It feels like everything is against you, and the only choice you have is to go back to your hometown to stay with your mom until you get back on your feet.

Leaving Los Angeles was hard enough, but landing in Connecticut felt like a blow to your pride. Everything looks the same as when you left, and the people haven't changed much either. You want to drop down to your knees and cry when you realize that this is where you're going to be for the next few months of your life. But you still have some dignity left in you, so you grab your luggage and try to compose yourself as you walk towards the pickup section to wait for your mom.

Blinking back tears, you inhale a deep breath and pull out your phone. You wait patiently as your phone searches for service in the area. When the service finally sets in, your phone blows up with 70 different alerts: two calls from your best friend, Joy, and three text messages from her telling you to have a safe trip and to keep your head up.

Six missed calls from your ex-boyfriend and seven text messages from him begging you to talk to him.

51 emails from the various job search sites that you signed up with and one singular text message from your mom.

Mom: Hey! I won't be able to make it. But don't worry, I'll have Jaehyun come pick you up. Can't wait to see you!

As if on cue, a familiar black 2015 Toyota Corolla pulls up right in front of you, and none other than Jung Jaehyun gets out of the car.

"This has to be a joke." You breathe, your shoulders raising as you do so.

He smirks the second he lays eyes on you, "Wow you haven't aged a bit."

You wish you could say the same about him, he'd grown a lot more mature since you last saw him. He wasn't the 18-year-old boy you were once head over heels for. He was way taller; he grew his hair out, and you could tell that he started hitting the gym.

"Why are you here?" You look up at him with folded arms.

He doesn't take you seriously. He never did. "Sorry, I'm late." He chuckles and takes your suitcase from beside you to load it in the back of his car.

Once he finishes his first task, he walks back around to open the door for you, gesturing to the passenger seat with both arms and a smile that you wish you could hate.

"I'm not getting in the car, Jaehyun." You remain in your spot, arms still folded over your chest.

"No?" He asks condescendingly.

You repeat, "No." Firm on your feet.

"Well, I guess. I'll see you there then." You watch him close the door and walk to the driver's side without sparing you a look. He starts the car and drives away, leaving you with two options.

You could chase after him and embarrass yourself, or you could remain stubborn and just call an Uber.

You choose to chase the car after realizing that the phone that you would use to call an Uber was sitting in the back of his trunk.

He watches you run after him from his rearview mirror; he slows down but refuses to stop until you were banging on the side of the window, begging him to stop. He got a thrill out of this, and you could tell.

"Did you change your mind?" He teases

Physically, Jaehyun was a completely different person; he grew up, well, you'll admit that. But personality-wise? He hadn't changed at all. He was still the same sarcastic asshole you met in high school.

You mutter, "I don't have my phone." As you slide into the passenger seat, out of breath. You subtly look around, taking notice that the car still smells the same way you remembered it; it was just cleaner now. Sooner or later, your eyes dart to the back seat, and Jaehyun chuckles when you do.

"So what's L. A like?" He asks suddenly, one hand on the steering wheel and the other draped over his thigh.

"It's fun and different. My boyfriend helped to introduce me to a lot of new things." You purposely mention your (ex) boyfriend just to see his reaction.

To your dismay, his reaction is as simple as none. He only asks, "How will long-distance work out for you? It didn't seem to work with us."

"We'll do fine." You say, trying to sound confident.

The car falls silent for a few moments before he starts up a new conversation. "I'm glad you're back."

The statement seems taunting, even if you know that's not how he means it. You always dreamt of moving away to a big city where no one knew who you were, and now that you're back home, it just feels like you are a failure.

"I'm not staying for long." You gaze out of the window.

"Since you're back in town, we should hang out sometime," he suggests, sneaking glances at you.

"I didn't come back to see you."

"Suit yourself, but remember I'm always just a phone call away."

As you step into the familiar house, you can't help but notice that everything looks the same. Though your mom has rearranged some things, the overall feel is still the same. She's standing at the counter, wearing her favorite white robe and sipping on a glass of wine. Even she looks the same, and you can't help but wonder if the past five years have been stuck in time.

Your thoughts are interrupted when Jaehyun speaks up from behind you, offering to take the bags upstairs. You're about to protest when your mom pulls you into a warm hug, rocking you back and forth. "Oh, my baby, I missed you so much," she coos, holding your face in her hands. "Have you been skipping meals?" She asks, eyeing you closely. When you shake your head, she mutters disapprovingly, "I hope you didn't start one of those stupid L.A diets." You hear Jaehyun snicker from behind you, but you can't break free from your mom's grip to glare at him.

"No, mom." You mutter shamefully like a middle schooler who just got through a scolding.

"We've got to fatten you up." She pinches your cheeks before she lets you go. Oh, you and Jaehyun should go try out the taco place down the street." Your mom swings her index finger between you and your ex-boyfriend. "They opened it up after you left. It's amazing, and the staff there is amazing, too."

You open your mouth to speak, but Jaehyun beats you to it. "I think she'd rather the tacos in L.A" he says as he stands beside your mom, looking down on you in a way that feels degrading. The only thing you can do is wonder when they got so close.

Your mom has always liked Jaehyun, but it seemed like she adopted him after you left. If you look close enough, you might find similarities in their facial features.

"Jaehyun probably has other things to do. Why don't we just go instead? It's been a while since it was just you and me." You waltz over and loop your arm around your mom's right arm. Opposite side of where Jaehyun was standing

"Or we could all go out together." Suggests, Jaehyun with a grin so big you could see his dimples.

Your mom's face glows at the thought as she pushes you aside. "That sounds like a wonderful Idea."

"How was your flight?" Joy's voice comes through the speaker of your phone while you prop it up against your old desk. You slide back in your seat to start your face care while simultaneously talking to her.

"Long, it should be illegal for infants to fly on a plane." You mutter, slapping the moisturizer on your face and rubbing it in circles along your cheeks.

Joy gets closer to the camera just to say, "That's harsh," but she doesn't bother to try to hide her laugh.

"Okay maybe not illegal, but there should at least be a secluded area for parents flying with newborns, or you know… just kids who still cry." You drag out the last part when you get closer to the mirror and run your index finger along the new pimple you have growing in.

"Like a daycare?" Joy asks

"That wasn't what I was thinking, but that works too."

"Okay enough about that, have you seen him yet?" Joy whispers against the speaker of her own phone and thankfully so because just as soon as she mentions him Jaehyun comes walking into your room without a notice or a knock.

"Dinners ready." He stops at the entrance of your room but gets closer when he sees that you're on the phone. Close enough for him to show up on your camera screen and wave his hand around. "Hi, Joy." He smiles tauntingly.

"I have to go," you mutter and hang up the call before either of them can get another word in. Turning in your seat to ask "Why are you here?" for the second time today.

His smile doesn't falter, and he doesn't back away, either. "What? You don't want to see me?" he teases.

"I don't," you murmur, pushing him away with the palm of your hand and rolling your eyes. You stand up when he backs up, but his eyes remain on you. You hate that you didn't hate it, and you hate that you don't hate him.

You always thought you would be angry if you ever saw him again, you expected that you'd shed a few tears even. But all of that was furthest from the truth because now that you saw him again you were only reminded of the love you kept harbored away for him.

You were gonna be fine, as long as you kept your distance.

"You invited him over for dinner?" You quietly mutter to your mom, hoping that Jaehyun won't hear you.

"Don't be like that, he came over all the time while you were gone. That's not gonna change because of a little breakup."

"But Mom." You whine.

She hears none of it as she continues setting the table and praising Jaehyun for how helpful he was compared to her own child. You grimace at the statement before plopping down at the table with your arms crossed.

Jaehyun takes the seat across from you, and your mom takes the one adjacent. "Isn't this wonderful? It's been so long since I've seen the two of you together." She smiles and clamps her hands together.

"Is he going to come over every night?" You ask, wiping the smile off of your mom's face. You've always been a fan of your mom's cooking, but now you were picking at the rice and mixing it around. Your spoon clinks against the bottom of the glass plate before you go to take a spoonful.

Sucking in a hiss when your mom smacks your arm, "Why don't you be nice?"

"I was just asking." You whine once more but pull your lips into a thin line when you realize that no matter what, she's going to take his side and Jaehyun's enjoying it.

"You know the carnival is opening tomorrow." Your mom starts again, "You guys should go out and have fun. It's summer, and you're still young."

"I can't. I have to…" You look around for any excuse that won't get you slapped for a second time. "Unpack."

Your efforts count for nothing as your mom slaps you again on the arm. "Oh, don't be stubborn." She laughs. "Jaehyun, you aren't busy, right?"

"No, mam." He smiles, specifically at you.

"And neither are you," she says when she looks at you. "So it's settled; you can pick her up tomorrow." Your mom claps her hands together with a bright smile.

"No, I really can't." You wave your hand around.

"Well, you don't have a job, do you?" is all your mom has to say to make you lower your chin and shake your head. "Then I don't see why not."

"Besides, you could use a picker-upper since you broke up with that little boyfriend of yours." She adds unsolicited. You want to hide, curl up into a ball, and just vanish, disappear, and go anywhere but here.

"You broke up?" Jaehyun pipes up with a smirk.

You scramble to defend yourself, but the best you can come up with is, "We're just taking a little break."and that's all you get to say before your mom interrupts.

"Say, Jaehyun, don't you have that pan I let you borrow? I think I might need it for tomorrow night's dinner."

He nods, "Yeah, I can bring it tomorrow if you'd like."

"No, you might forget. Y/n, why don't you ride with him and bring the pan back."

The mention of your name makes you choke on your food, "What?"

"That'll give you guys some time to catch up." If you didn't know any better, you would think she was doing this on purpose. But you did know better and knew she was doing this on purpose.

"But it's late, and he has bad eyesight." You point, searching for any way that you could to get her to change her mind. Retracting when you see the way he's looking at you. "I mean, it's never safe to drive at night."

"That's more of a reason for you to go. I wouldn't want him stranded on the side of the road." says your mom.

"What about me?"

"If you're ready, we can go now." She ignores you when Jaehyun stands up in his chair.

"Yes, you two get going. I'll clean this up." Your mother hurries you out of your seat, pushing you along with Jaehyun to the door. You don't even get to say anything before she's waving and slamming the door in your face, locking you out of the house with your pajamas, bunny slippers, and your ex.

"You coming?" Jaehyun yells, standing on the passenger side of his black car.

You look at the door once and let out a long, deep sigh as you stomp to his car, sliding past him and into the passenger seat, but not without rolling your eyes.

"If you keep rolling your eyes, they're going to get stuck in the back of your head," Jaehyun teases before closing the car door.

He gets into the car shortly after and starts it immediately. You hope to keep the car ride quiet, but Jaehyun has other plans as he starts returning to his place. "I see long distance isn't your strong suit."

Naturally, you want to roll your eyes. You notice it's just a common occurrence when you are around him. "I already told you were working things out; I just didn't wanna hold him back."

You turn to him when you hear a small laugh. "Working things out," he repeats. "How come I didn't get that option?"

"You didn't deserve it."

"So you really love him, huh?" He glances over to see your reaction, and based on your facial expressions alone, he knows he's right.

He knows the answer, but you're not as sure. Is it possible for you to love two men at once?

"I don't wanna talk about this tonight, Jaehyun." You sigh and gaze out of the window. Per your request, he remains quiet for the rest of the ride. But now that you're sitting in complete silence, all you have to do is think. Think about the feelings and emotions you thought you had left in the past.

What would things be like if you had never ended things with Jaehyun? Would you have met your ex? Would you be conflicted right now sitting in the passenger seat of your ex's car while thinking about your other ex?

"Are you coming in?" Jaehyun asks, holding his apartment door open for you.

You prop up against the wall behind you and fold your arms. "No, I'll stand right here," you say, but swiftly run behind him when you hear someone else leave their apartment. The last thing you needed was someone else to see you standing outside his door, whether they knew you or not.

"Hi, Johnny." Jaehyun turns to wave at the neighbor against your wishes, smiling at you when you glare at him. "Don't worry, he's not gonna bite you."

Your only response is another glare; he simply smiles while you walk past him and into his apartment.

This seems to be the nature of your relationship: You're hot-headed and easily irritated, while Jaehyun is sarcastic and loves to get under your skin. It's always been like this, and there was just no telling how the two of you ever managed to fall in love.

Jaehyun stands behind you when you scan his living area. It's exactly what you'd expect from a man, and especially Jaehyun. There's a couch and some small decor here and there, but it feels cold and bare for the most part.

It's almost hard to believe that this is where he spends most of his time.

You keep your thoughts to yourself and follow him into the kitchen, where you continue to look around.

"Seems like you and my mom got close," you speak, hoping to distract him from how you are inspecting everything in his apartment.

Jaehyun answers, "Yeah, I guess you could say that." His head dips into the cabinets under the counter, searching for the pan that brought him here in the first place.

You raise your hands to each arm and sigh, "So was that on purpose… or?"

"She was the closest thing I could get to you." He says casually, as if everyone's heard that before.

You, on the other hand, aren't as casual about the subject as he is. You drop your arms to your side and start looking around again for a sudden change of conversation, which Jaehyun misses with his head still tucked under the cabinets.

"I like what you've done with the place; it's cozy." You lie, and you're glad he isn't looking at you because you know he can tell that you are with just a glance.

You forgot that he could also tell when you were nervous. He's always been able to read you like a children's book, and he always used that against you.

"It wasn't as easy for me to jump into another relationship as fast as you did." He stands up with the pan in his hand. The look he gives you makes your face feel hot; you begin choking over words.

"I- I don't wanna talk about this."

"I do." He slides the pan back when you reach for it but closes the distance between you. He gets so close that you have to crane your neck to look up at him. He's so close that you're scared he might hear the beat of your heart. He's so close that you could just kiss him. "I missed you, Y/n. More than you could ever imagine."

You admit you still have feelings for Jaehyun but won't act on them. After all, you're a firm believer in "Control your actions, not your emotions," but he's only getting closer and closer.

You start to rethink your philosophies when you breathe in the scent of his cologne. Your skin feels hot and you don't know how long you plan on holding back from him.

It's going to happen sooner or later, so why not sooner? You think as you allow him to take the last step needed to close the space between you.

When his lips connect with yours, you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, and suddenly, he lifts you up by the back of your thighs to carry you back to his bedroom.

The bright yellow light beaming over your closed eyelids wakes you up from your deep slumber. The arm wrapped tightly around your abdomen causes your eyes to nearly bulge out of your head.

Your clothes sprawled on the floor is enough evidence to prove that last night wasn't just a dream. Being pretty much naked in nothing but one of his T-shirts is just the icing on top.

You really slept with your ex.

"Jaehyun," you whisper, gently tapping his arm, which is more than enough to wake him up.

He groans, "Good Morning" as he starts to lay kisses all over the back of your shoulders. And if possible, his hold on you just gets tighter as he pulls you back towards him.

"I have to go home."

"Sure thing, baby." He says, laying one kiss on the back of your head and another on your cheek. With that, he rolls off the bed and begins getting dressed, smiling like an idiot while he does so.

You choose to ignore it; for once, he wasn't acting like an asshole, and you just need some quietness while you take the time to collect your clothes from around the floor.

However, when you reach the car, your thoughts spew like a waterfall. "We can't do that again." You don't give him time to respond, to neither agree nor disagree, before you go on a tangent that lasts the entire 12-minute car ride.

"Okay," Jaehyun responds after pulling into the driveway of your childhood home.

He's never really been much of a talker; if anything, he just liked to say simple things that he knew would piss you off. You're certain this has to be one of them. Unfortunately, that doesn't stop your blood from growing hot.

"okay?" You repeat with squinted eyes. "I just told you I never wanted to see or talk to you again and just go 'okay?"

"What do you want me to say?" He almost laughs, and that just riles you up more.

"Anything else? Did you even mean everything you said yesterday, or were you just looking for sex?" He doesn't say anything at first. He looks away and gazes out the window for what feels like half an hour but is only 8 seconds.

"I don't know." He shrugs

"You don't know?" You repeat him yet again.

"Well, do you want me to tell you the truth?" He asks calm as ever, completely opposite to you.

"No, I don't." You murmur, stomping out of his car and slamming the door behind you.

Jaehyun lets you get to your porch before he rolls his passenger seat window down and shouts, "I'll pick you up at two." When you turn around, you're met with a dimpled smile and his crescent eyes.

If you weren't already so angry, you would've matched his smile, and for a second, you almost do.

He always knew how to make you mad and how to make you laugh. That's why you fell in love with each other, and it only took a special set of dimples to remind you of that.

The sun is still young at 2 p.m., well, 1:51 p.m., to be exact. You were coming to terms with the fact that you had slept with your ex and that you'd been counting the seconds, waiting for two o'clock to come.

The knock at the door sends you rushing down the steps, nearly tripping over your own feet. You barely contain your smile when you see Jaehyun standing on the other side of the door.

"You're early," you scoff, walking past him and closing the door behind you. Jaehyun does nothing but smile at you, reaching for your hand to pull you closer to him as he guides you to his car.

He leaves a kiss on your cheek and mumbles, "I couldn't wait to see you." To which you roll your eyes in an attempt to hide the way your lips turn up into a subtle smile.

The wind from outside seeps into the car as he drives through the highway, one hand interlocked with yours and the other on the steering wheel. He glances at you a few times and, after the third time, says, "You know this is a date, right?"

You turn your head towards the window and pretend like you can't hear him. Only for him to roll both windows up and repeat, "You know this is a date, right?"

"I didn't agree to a date." You retort, "I'm only here cause my mom forced me to."

"Is that why you're still holding my hand?" He asks, his eyes focused on the road ahead.

You shift in your seat, but you don't dare to let go of his hand. If anything, your grasp on him just gets tighter, and you go back to looking out the window. "My hand is cold, and yours is warm," you murmur.

Your answer warrants him to bring your hand up to his lips and leave a chaste kiss or a few. He does that often throughout the evening, randomly pulling you closer to him just to leave kisses on your cheek or forehead.

It feels like high school all over again. Jaehyun's still staring at you like a lovesick fool, and you still get butterflies in the pit of your stomach when you make eye contact. "This isn't a date," you state suddenly.

The warm breeze, carrying the scent of summer, gently tousles your hair as you gaze up at your ex. "And I meant what I said. After this, I don't wanna see you again." The air is filled with the sounds of young teens cheering and laughing, their voices blending into a joyful cacophony.

Jaehyun uses his index finger to move the hair out of your face and push it behind your ear. "Okay," he says softly, with his hand still lingering on your cheek. His thumb softly grazes your lower lip.

You breathe, "I'm serious, Jae." But the use of his nickname and the way you look at him tells him you're anything but serious.

"I know." He says, switching his focus between your eyes and your lips. He kisses you, but you take the initiative to pull him closer by the nape of his neck, feeling the heat of his body transform onto yours.

The feeling is all too familiar,‌ like euphoric bliss or, rather, a certain type of high you don't ever want to come down from. "I missed you." You slur against his lips, arms still tied around him so he can't go anywhere.

"I know." is all he says before he leans in to kiss you again.

The car is pretty silent other than the small taps of the raindrops on the windows and the music playing on his car radio at the lowest volume. Occasionally, you can hear vibrations from your phone.

Jaehyun's hand is firmly wrapped around yours, and it's been like that for the past hour. He pulls you right back every time you try to slip away. "So what about Sicheng? How is he?" you ask, resting your head against the back of the seat.

"He's married now," Jaehyun answers. The tips of his lips turn upwards into a smile when he sees your widened eyes.

"To whom?"

"I don't know her name." He looks off to the side as if to think. "They got married a year ago."

"I would've never thought." The car falls silent again, and just as soon as it does, your phone buzzes for probably the hundredth time of the night.

Jaehyun lets your hand go just long enough for you to check your messages.

There are over 20 missed calls from Joy and one text from her telling you to call her ASAP.

Then, there are three messages from your ex begging you to call him. His contact is still saved as "my love." It's been like that since you first got together, and you hadn't thought of changing it after you broke up.

Well, it's more like you couldn't bring yourself to do it. If you were to change his name and block him, things would be real for you. And you were desperately clinging on to hope. Maybe things will work out; you'll go back to L.A and be with him again.

"Are you okay?" Jaehyun pulls you out of your thoughts, sliding his hand into yours and interlocking your fingers.

"Yeah," you shake your head and lock your phone.

You have no idea what tomorrow might bring, but for tonight, you just want to sit with Jaehyun, even if it is just for tonight.

"Hello." It's probably 6 am if you had to guess. Birds are singing right outside of your window, and the sun isn't all the way up yet.

You sit up in your bed with one hand holding your phone to your ear and the other moving your hair out of your face. "Why didn't you call me back?" Joy's voice echoes through the speaker of your phone.

"Maybe because I was asleep?" You snap back, eyes barely open.

"I got you a job." That's enough to have you leaping off your bed with your eyes jumping out of the socket.

"Say, sike." You chirp. "Please don't say sike."

"I'm serious; I told them you were out of town, but you can start next month." She explains, calm as ever.

"Joy, you are amazing." You exclaim into the phone. "Have I ever told you you're the bestest best friend in the entire world?"

"You've mentioned it a few times." You don't have to see her to know that she's smirking. "I have to go now. I just wanted to tell you about the job. I'll call you back later."

She doesn't give you time to say anything else before the call is dropped. You throw your phone down and plop down on your bed. You can't help but smile, thinking about how things are gonna go back to normal.

However, when you feel your phone vibrate against your side and you read Jaehyun's name ‌off your screen, your smile fades. You were so excited about going back to L.A that you forgot about him.

For the next few days, you do your best to forget about everything and just spend time with Jaehyun, whether it be chatting in his car or even helping him redecorate his sad and cold jail ce- apartment.

"What's the catch?" Jaehyun asks suddenly, his index finger twirling in your hair. You shift your ‌ head against his chest to look at him.

"What are you talking about?"

"You've been acting really weird lately," he explains, "You're all clingy now. Which I like, but it also feels too good to be true." You can see a shift in the way he looks at you and in the tone of his voice. "It feels like you might try to leave me again."

"I'm just trying to make up for lost time." You're too afraid to tell him that your time with him is limited. Too afraid of his reaction and of your own emotions.

"You don't have to lie to me." He sits up against the headboard of his bed, and you do the same thing. "I knew this was only temporary, and I know I shouldn't have let my feelings get involved again." Jaehyun takes a deep breath before continuing, "But I love you. I think I always will."

When you don't say anything, he keeps going. "Let's try again." He says.

"Jaehyun-" He cuts you off with a kiss, not wanting to hear ‌your rejection.

"We can move to L.A together." He speaks against your lips, "And we can find an apartment. I'll get a job, I'll sell my car if I have to."

His determination makes you giggle, and soon enough, he starts laughing with you."I thought you hated the city."

"I do. But you love the city, and I love you,"

"I didn't know you were such a romantic." You beam, butterflies erupting as he reaches to move the hair out of your face and behind your ear.

"But we'll have to move my son out too. I'm not asking you to play stepmom, but I do want to be in his life." Jaehyun speaks casually, but your jaw is growing heavy, and the butterflies are starting to feel like poison or mini daggers hitting your gut all at once.

You only manage to squeak "What?" Even though there are so many questions, you want to ask.

"I'm kidding." He breaks into a laugh, but you're still left confused and slightly heartbroken.

"That's not funny, Jae." You whine when he pulls you in to leave a kiss on your forehead.

"It's hilarious, baby."

You jump up off the bed the second your phone begins to vibrate, running to the door and checking the doorway to make sure Jaehyun is occupied before you slowly and softly close the door to answer the call.

"Hello?" You breathe into your phone speaker as you tiptoe back to the bed.

"Hello? Girl, why are you whispering." Joy asks, "Where are you?"

You don't have to answer that question because Jaehyun answers that question for you when he busts through the door to ask "Do you want take out or should we cook tonight?"

"Take out." You answer, covering your phone mic.

Still, your best friend hears everything, "Who is that?" She questions.

"Okay, do you want Pizza or Chinese food?" Jaehyun asks, leaning in between the doorway.

"Y/n, that better not be who I think it is." Joy scolds from her end of the line.

You answer Jaehyun to ignore Joy. "I don't know, you choose," you say urgently, anything to get him out of the room.

"I know how you are, baby. I don't want to get you something that you don't feel like eating," Jaehyun explains, walking further into the room.

The closer he gets, the louder your heart beats and the more your best friend yells at you. "Baby?" She barks through the speaker and right into your ear.

You rush to hit the mute button, but with your eyes focused on Jaehyun, you slip up and accidentally put your best friend on speaker phone. "Y/n, you better answer me right now."

When her voice rings through the room, your heart stops beating altogether. For the second time this month, you want to vanish, disappear into thin air, and cease to exist.

"Hi, Joy." Jaehyun greets with a large grin that shows his dimples on full display.

Joy only responds in a monotone, "Jaehyun." You rush to say, "I'll do a plain cheese pizza." Once again, you are just trying to get him out of the room.

"Sure thing, baby." He cooes, with a kiss to your cheek. Soon enough he's out of the room and you're alone again. With a deafening silence.

"Things happened." You hesitantly speak.

"Things like what?" Your clothes slipped off, and you fell into his bed?" You hear a sigh immediately after she snaps, and you're too afraid to say anything else. "What about—"" I don't wanna talk about him," you interject.

"Okay, but does he know you're coming back?" Joy asks, referring to Jaehyun. When you don't answer, she gets worried. "You are coming back, right?"

"Of course I'm coming back. I just haven't told him yet." You trail off on the last part.

She doesn't say anything for a long while, and neither do you. You sit in your own disappointment, you didn't need her to tell you that you messed up because you already knew that.

"Y/n, I'm only saying this because I love you…" It doesn't take a genius to know that what's coming next is about to hurt. "You're being really stupid right now."

That hurt a lot more than you thought it would. "Wow, thanks, Joy."

"Listen, I don't want you to get hurt again."

"I'm not, he's changed, and things are different now." You explain although you're not even sure you believe it yourself.

"Then why haven't you told him yet?" She asks, but you don't answer. "You're going to give him the chance to break you again?"

"He's not," you cry, pulling against the ends of Jaehyun's oversized shirt, which you stole out of his drawer to wear.

Joy can hear the tone of your voice soften, so she softens hers as well, but it doesn't change the gravity of her words. "Do you remember how long it took for-" "Please don't mention him." You interrupt her, already knowing who she's about to bring up.

"Look I'll figure things out, but for now I just wanna be happy." You continue, "I think I deserve that."

"You do, Y/n. You deserve nothing but happiness, and if he makes you happy, then don't let me get in your way. but don't forget who you have waiting for you in California with open arms." Joy attests

"I know you're just looking out for me, but I don't know if I can go back to him knowing what I did while I was here."

"You know better than I do that he'd never judge you." And you did. You knew that very well. Your ex never made you feel insignificant or anything of the sort. He never shamed you or made you feel guilty for anything. But that didn't change the fact that you would judge yourself.

"I just need time to think about everything." You say, almost in a whisper.

"I trust that you'll do the right thing." Joy reassures, "I'm gonna go now. I love you."

"I love you too." You say before hanging up the phone and throwing it on the other side of the bed. The call leaves you feeling nothing but confused, and Jaehyun notices it the second he walks into the room.

Your subtle pout and the way you're holding the pillow to your chest tell him exactly how you're feeling. "What's wrong?" He takes the seat beside you, tugging at your waist so you can scoot closer to him.

"Did you mean what you said about moving to L.A.?" You ask first. Your hand rests over his when he reaches to stroke your cheek.

"I wouldn't play about that Y/n"

You take a deep breath when you get the answer you want. "Joy got me a job, and they want me to start next month."

"What? That's amazing, baby." He cooes, grabbing each of your hands. "We're going to L.A"

He reacted way differently than you imagined he would; the look on his face tells you he's sincere, and the flutter in your heart makes you hope that he really is. You don't think you can take another heartbreak, not from him.

As you stand in your old room, the brown paper box at your feet, you can't help but feel a strong sense of nostalgia wash over you. You take in every detail: the way the sunlight filters through the window, casting a warm glow on everything in the room; the creaking sound of the wooden floorboards under your feet, each one carrying a memory of its own; and the scent of your old perfume that still lingers in the air, like a faint echo of a bygone era.

This time, as you prepare to leave, it feels different. It feels like you're saying goodbye for good, and the thought of leaving this place forever fills you with a deep sense of loss. When you first arrived in Connecticut, you couldn't wait to leave, but now you find yourself wishing you could stay just a little bit longer so you could relive the memories of your past, which you hold so dear.

However, you know that the real reason you're dreading going back is that you don't want to face your ex. The thought of telling him that you're now in a relationship with the man you used to cry to him about fills you with anxiety. You're unsure of how he'll react, and the mere prospect of facing him makes your heart race with fear.

The more you think about it, the more you realize that things are not looking good for you. You're caught between your love for your new partner and your fear of the unknown.

Suddenly, your mom yells from downstairs, "Y/n, someone is here for you." You don't pay much attention to the hesitation in her voice, too lost in thought. You wish you had because when you reach the bottom of the stairs and look up, Doyoung, your ex, is standing right across from you with a saddened smile and a black duffle bag. Your heart skips a beat as you see him. You hadn't expected him to be here, but now that he is, you don't know how to react. You mutter, "What are you doing here?" As you wrap your arms around yourself, unsure of what to do next.

Part 2

[inhurtandincomfort]

For the Comfort My OCs Ask Game!

💤- A pleasant dream to Eldwin 🌲 - A day outside to Kieran post-capture 🪀 - A stress or fidget toy to Jowan 💰 - A shopping day to Ancassiuss

💤- A pleasant dream to Eldwin

Did that one here!

🌲 - A day outside to Kieran post-capture

Kieran closed his eyes. Warm sunlight soaked into his skin. It seemed like forever since he'd felt the sun.

It was… spring, now. Or summer. He wasn't sure. A gentle river ran through the forest feeding into a lake nearby. A pleasant breeze brushed through towering trees, ruffling branches hundreds of feet in the air. Fresh air was heavenly after being cooped in that musty basement, and the sunrays felt like a blessing. He clung to that feeling, let it revitalise him. There was a life awaiting him outside. He just had to be patient.

"We should head back," Heather commented, her gaze surveying the woodland. There was no one around for miles. No one ever came there. "He'll be home soon."

"A little longer." He couldn't bear to tear himself away just yet. It was too soon. It was always too soon. "Please."

A collar weighed heavy upon his neck. Her fingers hovered over a controller for a second, before she sighed. She stared into the distance. "Five more minutes. That's all."

🪀 - A stress or fidget toy to Jowan

"Stop fidgeting."

"Don't do that."

"Stop that tapping!"

"Can't you ever just sit still!?"

The beads twirled between his fingers. Wrapping around, looping over, flipping between in an expert manner. Large beads at either end of a string. One hand deftly worked the simple toy performing increasingly complex tricks. Up, sling, roll. With his free hand he turned a page. Endless fields passed by the window.

"Pay attention."

"Am I boring you?"

"What are you doing?"

Jowan glanced up. Thirteen leaned his head against the glass, but his eyes were on Jowan, or more specifically, the string in his hand.

"Ah, am I bothering you? Sorry, I'll stop."

"Don't." When Jowan met his gaze, Thirteen looked away, staring back out the window. "I was just curious, is all."

Oh, I see, Jowan thought in amusement. Thirteen had been content to watch the scenery for awhile, but it had been a long journey. No wonder he was getting bored.

"It's called Begleri. It gives me something to passively do while I work on other things." He flipped the beads in a series of impressive spins that had taken hours of practice. He stopped, grasping them tightly. "Do you want to try?"

For a moment he thought Thirteen was going to ignore him. Then he held out his hand expectantly. "How hard can it be?"

.

.

.

"Why is this so impossible!?" Thirteen scowled at the toy hanging loosely from his fingers. "Here, take it back."

He tossed them flippantly toward Jowan who easily caught them, wasting no time getting back into his routine. "It just takes practice."

Thirteen folded his arms and leaned back in his seat, stubbornly fixated on the window again. "You make it look so easy." He grumbled. Was he pouting?

"Here, try this."

Jowan held the beads in confusion. A single string with a large bead on each side… "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"It's a game from Xluvia. You can learn some really cool tricks with it. It's called Begleri." She picked up another set to demonstrate. She swung them around in a series of rapid movements he couldn't keep track of. She giggled when he tried to replicate, and failed miserably. His cheeks grew hot and he handed the string back to her, but she shook her head.

"I wasn't laughing at you! I wasn't an expert from the moment I picked it up, you know. Here, start with something easier," she said, taking his hand in her own. "Look, hold it like this…"

"I've been doing this for years. It wasn't always so easy." Jowan hesitated. He didn't know if Thirteen would appreciate the offer, but… "Seeing as you're stuck in the lab a lot anyway, I could teach you properly, if you'd like. If nothing else it's something to do. Oh, you don't have to though…"

Thirteen looked back at him. Surprise flashed across his face before it was masked with nonchalance. "Sure, whatever. Fuck all else to do down there anyway."

Jowan smiled softly, and their journey continued in comfortable silence. Loop, flip, swing. It was second nature to him, now. Stern voices still nagged in the back of his mind, but it was getting easier to ignore them. Swing. Flip. Catch.

Thank you, Thaleia.

💰 - A shopping day to Ancassiuss

"Thirteen rics."

"Thirteen!? It was seven last time! Yswenna, you wouldn't be trying to swindle me would you?"

"Times are changin', doll." Yswenna propped her elbow on the counter, resting her chin on her hand. Black rings adorned her fingers, and deep sea hair draped her shoulders. "These resources aren't so abundant anymore. Supply and demand, you see?"

"Aren't I your biggest demand? Couldn't you cut me a deal?"

"Are you saying you can't afford thirteen rics?" A coy smile danced on her lips.

"I'm saying, I'm your most loyal customer," Ancassius drawled, idly twirling his coin purse. "Don't I deserve some special treatment?"

She hummed, a twinkle in her dark eyes. "I'll do twelve."

"You'll do eight."

"Eleven."

"Nine."

"Twenty."

"Wait what?"

She laughed, showing a glimpse of her shark-like teeth. "Let's make it ten, for my most loyal customer. "

"Done!" Ancassius threw ten shiny coins on the counter, and snatched up a box. She watched his every move like a hawk stalking its prey.

"You know, it doesn't take long to whip up. If you bring some ingredients next time, I can make it for you in a flash. And you can keep your low price."

He flashed her a grin. "Where would be the fun in that?"

—-

"Captain!" Moira called in a muffled voice, waving one arm for his attention. The other arm was laden with dozens of goods perched in a precarious pile. She had a lollipop stick in her mouth.

"You've been busy," Ancassius remarked, meeting her where she stood by a market stall.

"This place is great! I've never been able to buy things before!" She swivelled her lollipop, eyes bright with childish glee.

"Did you get everything you need?"

"Almost. I just need one teensy-weensy little thing," she said sweetly. And here we go. "Can you lend me some more money?"

Ancassius' hand twitched at his side as he resisted the urge to bury his face in it. "Moira…"

"Just a little! I'll pay you back, I swear it!" She vowed, "Or I'll cut out my tongue so that I may never swear again!"

"Please don't do that."

"Just one thing! I've already kept the Madam long enough." She gestured to the stall owner, an older woman with stern lines on her face. She gave them both a dirty look.

Saints help me. "…What is it?"

Moira snatched something off the stall and shoved it in his face. "Look at it, isn't it adorable?"

It was… a rat. More specifically, it was the crooked shape of a rat the made from wool, bigger than her head with large teeth and beady black eyes. It was not, by any stretch of the imagination, 'adorable.' In fact, adorable would be the last word Ancassius would use to describe it.

"It's… something."

"I need it."

"No, you don't need it."

"I do."

"You don't."

"Please?"

___

"We need to teach you some financial management."

[thewritetofreespeech]

I am thinking so much of Akashi from Knb and his mommy complex.

Could I get something with fem girlfriend reader doing aftercare to Akashi after certain spicy activities (if you get what I mean) and a talk about his level of care with his complex while he gets really flustered and red in the face? ❤️😩

---------------------🏀---------------------------

“Yes….Yes…I’ll review the file again in the morning before take off…..Yes…Yes….Ok father. Thank you.” Akashi hung up the phone and sighed as he sat it on the table.

Even though he was still a young man, finishing up his MBA at one of the most prestigious universities in the world, his father still relied on him for a verity of things that normal late twenties somethings would never have to do. He always had. The expectation of a Seijuro, and heir to their legacy, engrained in him from the time he was born.

“Is your father ok?”

Akashi looked over at his girlfriend. Laying down beside him in the bed. Looking up at him with those beautiful eyes. Hair still mussed from their earlier activities in this very bed, just before the call. His father also seemed to have the innate ability to sense whenever his son was happy and ruin it.

“Yes. He’s fine.” Akashi assured her. “He just wants to make sure I am prepared for the meeting tomorrow.”

“Didn’t he call yesterday to do that?” [Y/N] asked incredulously as he had called during their brunch as well for that reason. “Does he not think you’ve prepared? Or that you can do it?”

“I don’t know….” Akashi’s father relied on him for a lot of things, and had high expectations, but at the end of the day he was all his father had. He didn’t choose to have Akashi as his heir or rely on him. It was the only option he had. Sometimes he wondered, if his father had other children and other options, would he pick Akashi still?

“No, no. None of that. Come here.” [Y/N] could clearly sense that he was spiraling, and moved to sit up in the bed and open her arms.

Akashi willingly slid into her. Resting his head on her chest as she cradled his head. Fingers combing through his hair. “I think that your father is nervous about tomorrow and just projecting onto you. It’s a big day. Along time coming for this acquisition.” The public didn’t know yet but tomorrow the Seijuro Group’s influence was about to increase ten-fold. The merger between their group and last known, true competitor. That was why his father wanted him there. To be there for this moment but also show that the future of the Seijuro Group was secure. “I’m sure he will see how hard you’ve been working once you’re there, and be so proud.” Wouldn’t that be nice, Akashi thought as he coiled his arms around [Y/N]. “I know I’m so proud of you. You’ve been working so hard. Taking care of everything for your father. Taking care of me. You’re doing so wonderful Akashi.”

The red head nuzzled into his girlfriend’s chest almost like a small child. He needed this. He needed this gentle feminine energy and reassurance. He craved it when he was at his lowest and [Y/N] always seemed to know.

The rest of him scooted closer to [Y/N] and she let out a little ‘ooh!’ when she felt his erection brush against her hip. “I take it you’re feeling a little better then?”

“Yes.” He agreed as he stretched up to kiss her.

[Y/N] grinned into their kiss. “Well, I’m glad. And good boys who work hard deserve a reward.” She detangled herself from Akashi and laid back against the pillows in a wanton way. “Do what you want with me baby.”

[rhonissancee]

๑Superficial Love. Goldenratio (Ratio x Aventurine). WC: 1.2k [to note: not proofread !]

Aventurine wasn't one to actively express what he was feeling. Think of it like a kaleidoscope, converting sunrays into different shapes and colors to distract you and bring your focus away from the source. In his case it was always much easier to showcase various different emotions and wear them like a mask. When he needs people to pity him he'll craft a perfectly pathetic face one to easily deceive. When he needs to get on someone's nerves a small quirk of his lips into a smug smirk is all it really took. So he didn't see the need for expressing himself when he can easily shift into something that'll cater to the other party, like a masked man raising the stakes of the game every time just for the player to realize that he had nothing but a bad hand. A master of deception who knows how and when to use it. It took years of practice to get him where he is now, years of observing people from the shadows, analyzing facial expressions when he'd play poker, and mimicking them perfectly to suit the facade he was trying to build. So imagine his surprise when all of it comes crumbling down the moment he becomes tangled with the esteemed Dr. Veritas Ratio. When face to face with another masked fool it was easy to tell, like a predator realizing that it's one of their own, alike to the point where the mask becomes undone for a split second; a moment of vulnerability. But a split second will stay a second. It was a barely there crack in one's facade, one that can't be seen by the naked eye unless up close.

"you're deflecting." Bored. Casual. But there was something, a small pinprick of emotion—that barely there crack and Aventurine was ready to hammer it down.

"responding to that serves quite difficult Veritas." He could see the small pinch in the others fine brow, an indication of annoyance, he always hated when Aventurine called him that. A small tell being the way the others jaw would tighten only for it to be forced into a relaxed state.

"with a mind like yours. It shouldn't be." Treat it as a yes or no question and you'll find yourself more likely to pick none. Except the question proposed was far more complex, sticky with emotions that Aventurine has spent years trying to bury deep in the alcoves of his soul, never to be felt again.

"you said I love you." Aventurine repeats as if saying it again makes it more digestible, more fathomable, more like a test instead of a declaration. It did no such thing, If anything saying those three words made his tongue numb and his head ache. He maintained his calm exterior, mirroring Ratio's own one.

"I did" his words mechanical, Aventurine almost found it comical. From gathered information one could easily tell this was probably the shittiest confession ever, in movies confessions are usually done over the pouring rain preferably with tears spilling from their eyes and voices screamed raw. There was no screaming, there were no tears, even the weather outside his apartment seemed cheerful.

"well thank you" that was dumb even Aventurine had to admit it. What's even worse than a shitty confession was an equally shitty answer. You say thank you when a gentleman opens the door for you, or when you receive a glass of water from the waiter, not when the supposed love of your life (Aventurine is still debating if that's the right term for Ratio) is confessing their unyielding feelings for you with a stone cold face.

"thank you?" The quirk in Ratio's brow was the only indication of his amusement. Aventurine could feel the steam of heat rush to his cheeks. That mask he so cleverly designed now getting dismantled with ease. This wasn't fair. Ratio was doing this on purpose .

"thank you for your confession. It must've taken a lot of courage to say that." Aventurine can't save himself now but he could at least try to play it out. In the game of feelings (at least with Ratio) the only loser is the one that folds.

"quite. I had an entire speech planned." Aventurine choked on his spit, he imagined it: Ratio hunched over his work desk trying to find the perfect synonyms for beautiful.

"the effort is admirable" only for the speech to be reduced to three simple words. Yet those words tangled deep within his heart strings, tugging and knotting itself orchestrating the loud thump thump thump in his chest. Honestly he'd prefer the grandeur speech instead, he'd rather Ratio go on and on about how his hair looked sun spun and how his eyes reassembled those irritatingly bright graffiti stencils on brick walls.

Ratio didn't even try to speak. His eyes said it all: 'deflecting' and a small hidden part of them seemed to say 'say it back, I'm begging you'

Aventurine laughs his tone a bit pitched—panic. "Such a thoughtful confession deserves time and thought put into it" he needs time. He needs time. He needs time. He needs time.

He can't do this right now and so he allowed himself a calculated slip up, a moment of vulnerability all for the sake of buying himself more time.

A slow blink was Ratios reply as if it just occurred to him that not everything is warranted an immediate answer, an immediate solution. Aventurine could see a small crack, ruining his flawless porcelain facade—shame perhaps?

A speck of guilt. He knew the agony of waiting for an answer to something the type of feeling that roots itself inside of your brain to fester doubt and insecurity. But if he knew Ratio (and he did) he wouldn't allow things as feeble as that cloud his focus, he'd snip every single one in a heartbeat. If anything he would warrant Aventurine as much time as he needed because Ratio was a sensible (albeit emotionally constipated at times), meticulous man. He wouldn't want a rushed answer let alone a forced one.

Aventurines assumption was confirmed when he felt gentle hands envelope his own ones. He couldn't help the small flinch he let out at the contact, something he wasn't used to despite hanging around the scholar almost everyday. His gaze met Ratios and he was surprised to find them warm and sincere, eyes like honeycomb encased in amber. He didn't like the look of sincerity in the others face.

He watched as Ratio slowly brought his two hands to his lips, kissing his knuckles with the devotion that would bring preachers to shame. He didn't expect to spark such a reaction, he didn't know what mask to put on. A miffed look crossed Aventurines face.

"take all the time you need. I won't go anywhere." Ratio mutters softly, it was out of character, it was unusual, it was making Aventurines heart malfunction and his mind muddled.

"you-"

"I'm sorry" what why

"I don't want you to answer for my sake." Ratio explained, another kiss to his hands. Aventurine remains silent, shocked. This was Ratio. The person behind the porcelain mask. Raw and vulnerable and so utterly smitten.

For me? Aventurine swallows thickly but he could feel that small panic from earlier thawing. An indiscernible feeling replacing it.

"Aventurine, anaticula. I love you." Ratio says and this time it wasn't to demand an answer, it was to inform, it was to declare, it was the type to be whispered under shared sheets in the dead of night.

Honestly Aventurine wouldn't mind that thought.

The blonde sighs softly with a small smile drawn on his lips "what am I going to do with you Veritas" he mutters, moving so that his forehead could rest against Ratios, his brows scrunch a bit as the words repeated in his head.

I love you

I love you

I love you

AN: gonna separate my writings actually. Fanfics for my OTPS will be here, x readers on the other account + Anyways take this ratiorine drabble that I wrote on a whim (so sorry if it's messy) because I'm so high on both of them + Fun fact: anaticula translates to 'little duckling' AND IK ITS LIKE KINDA CRINGE AND SHIT BUT IDC LALALALALA + They're both emotionally intelligent but constipated when it comes to each other me thinks. I honestly love this ship so much (it hurts) and I'd definitely write for them more.

[elizabethsnuts]

can we get a flasback of winterwidow before their daughter was born?? Like all the preparations and stuff :D

Preparations

WinterWidow x Daughter!Reader

Summary: Natasha and Bucky are getting ready for your arrival by finishing the important tasks.

———

Natasha sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor of the nursery, she was looking around the room and reviewing it. She and Bucky had spent weeks making it perfect for you, even if you were going to be sleeping in their room for the first few months of your life.

Bucky entered the room, carrying a large cardboard box labelled "Baby Clothes." He set it down gently on the floor, then straightened up, putting his hands on his hips. "Alright, Nat. Ready to sort through these?" he asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Natasha turned to him, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Absolutely. There’s a lot of stuff in here."

Bucky joined Natasha on the floor, opening the box and pulling out tiny, adorable outfits. There were onesies in every colour imaginable, soft little hats, and even a pair of teeny tiny socks.

They started with the clothes, sorting them by size and type. Natasha held up a tiny onesie, grinning at how small it was. "Can you believe she's going to be this tiny?"

Bucky took the onesie from her, holding it up to his chest. "No, I really can't. It's so crazy."

Natasha picked up another piece of clothing and held it up, it was a frilly pink dress, and her expression was filled with warmth.

“This is so so cute! I cannot believe she's going to be wearing this soon." she said, her voice tinged with awe.

Bucky chuckled, reaching over to take the dress from her. "The time is going too quickly, I swear."

They continued sorting through the clothes, carefully folding each piece and placing it in the dresser drawers. As they worked, they talked about their hopes and dreams for you, the kind of parents they wanted to be, and all the adventures they would have together.

Natasha picked up another piece of clothing and raised her eyebrow in amusement. “A suit? Really? Who gave us this?”

Bucky laughed and fixed the tie attached to it. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say Tony. He wants her to be Ms Billionaire Baby.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and chucked it in the drawer. “I’m honestly not surprised one bit.”

Next on the list was assembling the crib. The pieces were spread out across the floor, along with a rather intimidating set of instructions. Bucky picked up the manual, flipping through the pages with a furrowed brow.

"This doesn't look too bad," he said, though his tone suggested otherwise.

Natasha laughed, giving him a playful nudge. "Come on, we've faced worse than this. We can handle a crib."

They set to work, Bucky handling the more complex parts while Natasha read the instructions and handed him tools.

"Careful with that screw," she warned. "We don't want it to be loose."

Bucky glanced at her, a smirk on his face. "I've got this, Nat. You just relax."

She rolled her eyes but leaned back, watching him work. There was something incredibly satisfying about seeing Bucky so focused and determined. It reminded her of the countless missions they'd been on together, except this time, the mission was creating a safe and loving home for you.

After a bit of effort and a few playful arguments, the crib was finally complete. Bucky stood back, admiring their handiwork. "Not too bad, huh?"

Natasha nodded and smirked, placing her hands on her hips. “I’d say you did pretty good! Now, can you do a stroller?”

Bucky shrugged and gestured to the crib. “I did that, how hard could it be?”

The stroller was in fact quite difficult. The crib was more of a breeze than the stroller which proved to be more of a challenge. It came with a manual that seemed to be written in an alien language. Bucky unfolded the various parts, scratching his head. "Who knew a stroller could be so complicated?"

Natasha took the manual, squinting at the tiny print. "I think we need to attach these wheels first."

They fumbled through the assembly, laughing at every wrong screw and backward piece. At one point, Bucky tried to fit a piece where it clearly didn't belong, and Natasha couldn't help but tease him. "Super soldier, huh? Can't even build a stroller."

Bucky feigned indignation. "Hey, I'm doing my best here!"

Eventually, they managed to put the stroller together. Natasha gave it a little push, watching it roll smoothly across the floor. "We did it."

They took turns pushing it around the living room, laughing at the absurdity of pushing an empty stroller. Bucky even tried fitting one of the cats inside, but he promptly jumped out and hid under the couch.

"Guess we'll stick to just the baby," Bucky said, grinning.

Next, they tackled the baby shower gifts. They had received an overwhelming number of items from friends and family, each one wrapped in colourful paper and adorned with ribbons. Natasha unwrapped a gift and pulled out a plush octopus that lit up and played music.

"What is this even for?" she asked, holding it up and pressing the button to make it glow.

"No idea," Bucky said, laughing. "But it might keep her entertained for a few minutes. Or scare her. One of the two."

They continued opening gifts, finding a mix of practical items and more… interesting ones. There were adorable blankets, diapers, and baby bottles, but also things like a baby food processor that neither of them knew how to use and a set of tiny sunglasses.

"These are ridiculous," Natasha said, holding up the sunglasses and putting them on her nose. "Do you think she'll actually wear these?"

Bucky chuckled loudly. "She might, but she definitely won't keep them on for long. Babies aren't exactly known for their fashion compliance."

As they sorted through the gifts, they made a pile of things they thought they'd use often and another pile of the more questionable items. Bucky picked up a baby hammock and shook his head. "Who even thought this was a good idea? It looks like a miniature torture device."

Natasha laughed so hard she had to hold her belly. "Well, we can always re-gift it. Maybe someone else will find it useful."

By the time they finished, the nursery was organised and clean, and both of them were exhausted but happy. Bucky looked around and then at Natasha, who was resting on the rocking chair with her feet up.

“I can’t wait to meet her,” Bucky whispered, placing his hand on Natasha’s bump, feeling the soft kicks of your tiny feet inside.

“Me too… we still have to get her car seat ready though.” Natasha giggled and rubbed the bottom of her stomach.

Bucky groaned and chuckled, rubbing his eyes. “We’ll do that later! We did so much today.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, thinking about the future and how you would soon join their family. The preparations were almost complete, but the real deal was just beginning.

[oswaldthatendswald]

if you have some rotating around in your head, perhaps spare us crumbs of Law and Cora's dynamics with the Heart crew? 🥺

I see most of the crew as being relatively close in age range (maybe a 5-6 year range, not including outliers), but somehow Law continues to be one of the youngest crew members. He has no idea how this keeps happening. Thank god Bepo is still the baby of the group.

Cora, on the other hand, remains the oldest by far until they pick up Jean Bart. Some of the crew will jokingly say he's the crew dad.

Because Cora is there, Law isn't as tense as in canon. Although Law is definitely the captain, having an older, more experienced first mate (and, crucially, so much less guilt) means that he's more comfortable accepting help and delegating.

Related: Cora puts a lot of work into supporting Law's position as captain. It's a reversal of authority for them, but Cora, coming from a Marine background, is very aware of how a chain of command works (and how it doesn't). Especially early on, he was careful to defer to Law on major decisions and not undermine him. It's an added complexity in their relationship, but it worked out pretty well.

The first crew member to join was Ikkaku, who was trying to get out of a rocky situation. Her early days were a little rocky, as she was suspicious of them and they weren't quite sure how to fold a new member into the pre-existing dynamic. In the end, it was actually Doflamingo's takeover of Dressrosa that broke the ice. Seeing their reactions to the news humanized them to Ikkaku, and her help keeping things going while Law and Cora were trying to emotionally recover solidified her place in the crew. Since she was the only non-Swallow member on the crew at the time, she has the best sense of how much taking down Doflamingo means to Law. She understands, more than the rest, that Law hates him.

All the non-Swallow crew members joined after Cora and Law got their bounties, so those who kept track of wanted pirates knew of them by reputation. Reality didn't quite live up to intimidating expectations, however. Rather than terrifying, super powerful pirates, the Hearts are a cheerful, extroverted bunch, with a grumpy but kind captain and a goofy, charming first mate.

Related: it's something of a rite of passage among the Hearts to see Cora take the brakes off. When a fight goes sour, or someone threatens the crew, or they just need to make a show, Cora can go from 0 to 100 in a snap. Law might be the real powerhouse, but he's always vaguely threatening (comes from hanging around Doflamingo as a kid). Cora's anger always comes as a shock to new members.

Cora and Law are still the only members of the Heart Pirates with bounties. This is partly because they're the only members with Devil Fruits; partly because with their uniforms, most of the Marines they fight don't bother to try to tell them apart; and partly because Sengoku keeps "losing" any paperwork proposing bounties for the rest of the crew (read: feeding it to Holden the goat).

Every few months, the crew tries to get Law to participate in music night. They've never succeeded, but they're convinced that they'll wear him down one of these days.

[detydia]

Imagine Dean Winchester x You

You're working late on a case and Dean gets you to rest.

The dim light of the bunker cast elongated shadows across the room as you sat hunched over your laptop, your brow furrowed in concentration. The case you were working on had proven to be more complex than you initially thought, and you was determined to piece together the puzzle.

Dean leaned against the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. He watched you for a moment, his gaze a mixture of concern and determination. Finally, he cleared his throat, his voice firm but gentle. "Y/n, you've been at it for hours. You need to get some rest."

You sighed, glancing up at him briefly before returning your attention to the screen. "I just need a little more time, Dean. I'm close to cracking this."

Dean pushed himself away from the doorway, his footsteps purposeful as he approached you. He leaned over your shoulder, studying the information on the laptop screen. "I get that you're dedicated, but you're no good to anyone if you're running on fumes. You're gonna burn yourself out."

You knew he was right, but the drive to solve the case was pushing you to keep going. "I just... I need to find the connection here, Dean. There's something we're missing."

Dean's hand came to rest on your shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle despite his stern expression. "And you will. But you're not gonna find it if you're half-asleep and your brain's turning to mush. You're smart, Y/n. You'll pick up where you left off with fresh eyes in the morning."

You sighed again, your shoulders slumping in defeat. "Okay, fine. I'll call it a night."

He squeezed your shoulder briefly before straightening up. "Good. Now, come on. Let's get you to bed."

With a reluctant nod, you closed your laptop and followed Dean to your shared quarters. You changed into your pajamas and slipped under the covers, feeling a mix of frustration and relief. Dean climbed in beside you, his presence warm and reassuring.

As you settled in, Dean's arm draped over your waist, his fingers brushing against your side. "You know, even superheroes need their rest," he murmured, his tone laced with a hint of playfulness.

You couldn't help but chuckle. "I'm not a superhero, Dean."

He shifted closer, his lips brushing against your temple in a soft, lingering kiss. "You sure act like one sometimes."

You turned your head to look at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. "And what about you, Mr. Winchester? You're not invincible either."

Dean's gaze softened, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your hip. "I know. But having you by my side... it makes facing the danger a hell of a lot easier."

You reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over the stubble on his jaw. "You're not alone in this, Dean. We're a team, remember?"

He nodded, his expression filled with a mix of gratitude and affection. "Yeah, I remember. Now, get some sleep. We'll tackle this case together tomorrow."

With a final, lingering kiss, you settled down, the weight of the case momentarily lifted from your shoulders.

[manorpunk]

Captain Ju Gaogao gave the impression of the woman who should not be trifled with. Maybe it was the way she held her shoulders up proudly and imperiously, her back straight and her muscular arms folded. Maybe it was the eyepatch over her left eye, and the jagged scar tissue peeking out above and below it, strongly implying that the eyepatch wasn’t just a fashion statement. Or maybe it was the way that her good eye always seemed to glare at people as though she were deciding the order in which she would rip off their limbs.

Perhaps she was this way because she resented her new position as the leader of a White Hats outpost, and considered it an ignominious dead end to an otherwise storied career. Perhaps it was the affectation of a stern, no-nonsense drill sergeant trying to whip these newbies into shape. Or perhaps her furious engine of hate was the only thing that got her out of bed in the morning. Whatever the reason, when she saw one of the White Hats’ new girlbots meekly walking into her office, she was already done with this shit before she even knew what it was.

“Sorry to bother you, Captain Gaogao. My name is Dot, and… I think I might be defective,” said Dot, crestfallen, her hands clasped together in front of her waist.

Gaogao massaged her temples and sighed. Great. The latest gen of bots were so lifelike, they had impostor syndrome now. “Alright, tell me who your operator is.”

“Johnny Newsroom.”

Two minutes and one stern voicemail later, Johnny came into Captain Gaogao’s office, slightly out of breath from running. He was horribly anxious to be called in, of course, but he took a moment to put on his best poker face - Gaogao didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would respect a neutral expression more than teary-eyed contrition.

“I-” he began.

“Shut up and sit down,” Gaogao said.

He did both of those things.

“Tell him what you told me, Dot.”

Dot’s fingers fidgeted. In Johnny’s anxious state, his senses picked up the sliding of her finger joints, the squeak of compressing rubber and the soft clacking of ceramic plates. Who had taken all the effort to give her such unnecessary gestures? Why would a robot ever need to fidget?

“I told Captain Gaogao that, um, I think I might be defective. Because my operator… you… don’t seem to like me very much.”

Johnny winced, closed his eyes and took in a long, bracing breath. Dammit, those sad eyes of hers were actually tugging at his heartstrings. It wasn’t fair. Why did robots have to become more like humans, instead of humans becoming more like robots?

“That’s not your fault, Dot,” he said through a clenched jaw.

“Look, I really don’t want to be having this conversation right now,” Gaogao said, “I’m a busy woman with a lot of responsibilities, and the absolute last thing I want to be doing right now is playing kiss and make up like I’m a fucking high school counselor. This galbot is hard-coded to like you, and you gave her some kind of complex in less than a day. I can’t imagine she actually did anything bad to you, so I have to assume this is some kind of stunt or protest on your part.”

“I-”

“Shut your fuck.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, and I don’t care. Whatever it is, it stops now. You’re going to apologize to Dot, and then you’re going to learn to play nice with her or else I’m taking away your toys, and by ‘toys’ I mean organs.”

“Roger,” Johnny sighed. He took another deep, bracing breath and looked into the warm blue glow of Dot’s eyes. “I’m… sorry for how I treated you, Dot.”

She smiled softly. “That’s alright. We can start over.”

“Thanks. Ask me whatever you like about myself and I’ll answer it honestly.”

“What kind of music do you like?”

“Whatever’s on the radio,” Johnny said reflexively, which caused Gaogao to pelt him with a pen. It didn’t hurt, it mostly just startled him, but he didn’t like the way her hand was reaching for the stapler next.

“Acoustic music, folk music… the kind of stuff you can put on in the background.”

“How about your favorite food?”

“Dolma, those stuffed grape leaves with rice and meat. I love those things.”

Gaogao’s hand crept away from the stapler.

“What’s your dream vacation destination?”

Johnny had never considered the question, but a quick jog through his brain produced several sites that sounded like good answers. He grabbed one at random and tossed it out.

“Istanbul,” he said. “The Hagia Sofia, the old aqueducts… there’s so much history there. I’d like to see it someday.”

“Are you Turkish?” Gaogao asked. “Legally you have to inform me if you’re Turkish.”

Johnny shook his head. “Franco-Tunisian, if you must know, though I don’t feel any particular attachment to the Maghreb. Or Turkey.”

“Tunisia was a semi-independent province of the Ottoman Turks for several centuries,” Dot chimed in, the past discomfort seemingly forgotten.

“That could be a party game - six degrees of Turk. It would be fun, right up until it causes World War 4,” Johnny said.

Captain Gaogao exhaled through her nose, which Johnny supposed was the closest she came to laughing. “Alright, you’ve proven you can be a human being. Now get out of here and don’t make me waste any more time being your fucking therapist. Dismissed.”

[alltheglowingeyess]

“Mrs. Ferris—hi. Where’s Will?”

Mrs. Ferris doesn’t even blink. “You’re late. Third time this month.”

Naomi exhales, already fumbling for her wallet as she palms twenty-five dollars. “I got caught up at the end of my shift and then my car wouldn’t start. But I’m—just, sorry, I’m in a bit of a rush, so I’ll just give you the cost now and—”

“Ms. Solace,” Mrs. Ferris interrupts, folding her hands neatly over the papers she was massacring with red pen, “your son was already sent home. With his emergency contact. As part of his suspension.”

Crap. “Suspension?”

“Your son picked a fight in the hallway today. We had to forcibly remove him from another student after he lashed out.”

“I—he wouldn’t just do that,” Naomi says. “And why didn’t y’all call me?”

“We tried. It went to voicemail.”

Naomi frowns, digging her phone out of her purse. She flips it open, wincing when the screen stays dark. “Ah.” She snaps it shut, shoving it back in her purse. “Well, this other boy wouldn’t happen to be, uh… Noah Ricky or something, hm?”

“Noel Rickerby, yes. I don’t see—”

“Mrs. Ferris, Will has come home in tears multiple times the past few weeks over the things this boy’s been saying and doing. And you expect me to believe he was unprovoked?”

“William—”

“Will.”

Mrs. Ferris’s lips twitch. “Will has already demonstrated behavioral issues. Noel is a model student and—”

“And Will’s behavioral issues are only a problem because y’all refuse to give him any support.” Naomi feels her rage rising as she speaks, voice shaking. “I’ve been on my hands and knees begging this school to invest even an ounce of energy into understanding that he’s a brilliant kid, and you’ve done squat.”

She slams the money on the desk, shifting her bag on her shoulder. “Until y’all start treating my son with respect, I’m not sitting here listening to whatever half-assed story you’re cooking up to make him the problem.”

For reasons that evade her, Mrs. Ferris has the audacity to look offended. “Ms. Solace, you cannot speak to me this way in my classroom—”

“Great. If you want to continue this discussion in a productive manner, come by my apartment for a coffee and a chat, hm? You have a good day now.”

She doesn’t wait for a response. She nearly sprints out the room, sneakers squeaking against the linoleum. It feels good to finally say it—but as she reaches the car, it settles in her mind that this is definitely going to bite her in the ass. 

Still—there’s no time to worry about that now.

She fumbles with her keys, jams one into the ignition, and pulls out of the lot without hesitation. Her eyes flick between the road and the glowing red numbers on the dash. Ten minutes. Maybe less.

She makes half the trip in record time, barely slowing as she reaches the four-way near their complex. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a silver sedan inch forward opposite her.

She barrels through the intersection, laying on her horn as the other car jerks to a halt.

“Wait your turn, asshat!” she yells out the window. She’s already halfway down the street before she can even tell if the driver heard her.

————————————————————————

She pulls into the driveway, grabbing the key and rushing to the door. She hears the faint thrum of music from inside—so at least she knows Will is there. Unfortunately, the current track does not sound very joyous, so she takes it that she will have to do some emotional damage control before the worker gets here. It takes her a few precious seconds to find the right key, and another five to actually slip it in the knob. As it clicks, she hurriedly turns the knob and—

The door opens just a crack and then stops. She frowns, pushing harder, before realizing the latch has been turned from the inside. The music is much clearer now and, yup—Only You by Yazoo—Will is definitely moping. 

Peeking through the crack, she sees him sprawled on the floor, staring forlornly at the ceiling. His stuffed bunny sits squarely on his chest as he pets it absentmindedly.

Ordinarily, she’d find his drama at least endearing. Right now, though, she wonders if it would be an overreaction to grab a bat and smash open the door.

“Will, what—open the latch, for the love of God!”

For a moment, there is no response. Then, he slowly turns his head—with way more drama than a five-year-old should be able to muster—and stares at her from the floor.

“No, thank you.”

“I—William.”

“I’m busy. Go away.”

“Busy or not, I’m not standing out here all day. Let me in the damn house, William.”

Will sighs loudly, then sits up. For a moment, she is hopeful that he might actually listen.

Instead, he reaches for the coffee table, cranks the radio volume even higher, and flops back down into his recumbent position.

She groans, loud enough that he surely has to hear it over the blaring music. Plan B, then.

She slips her hand through the crack, managing to get a quarter of her forearm inside as she fumbles for the latch. Unfortunately, it’s just out of reach, and when she shifts her arm, a sharp pain shoots through her hand as she pulls back.

“Fuck me,” she mutters, shaking out her arm. She gives herself a few seconds to hype herself up, then tries again, this time managing to squish a third of her arm in. Half-squatting to get a better angle, she grins as her fingers just barely graze the latch.

She tries again, inching closer, when footsteps sound behind her. Someone clears their throat.

“Naomi Solace?”

She yanks her arm back, wincing as the harsh edge of the door scrapes her skin. She does her best to compose herself, pulling the door closed to mute the music (The Winner Takes It All—God, having a kid with good music taste is truly a curse and blessing). The man behind her is solidly built, wearing a neatly pressed shirt and slacks, sunglasses shading the upper half of his face.

“That’s my name. Don’t wear it out.” 

Wow. That has… never come out her mouth before. Might as well throw a pair of finger guns in.

“And you must be the social worker for today, Mr…?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Armstrong. Though you seemed perfectly fine calling me asshat earlier.”

“...Um.”

Sure enough, when she looks behind him, that same silver sedan is now parked in the driveway. Naomi is at a loss for words. She tries anyway.

“Well, I’m very sorry about, uh... you have a lovely car. The silver, uh, matches your glasses?”

He doesn’t answer, just stares at her.

Awkward. “Alright, yeah. Let’s get to checking in. What are we talking about today, hm?”

Mr. Armstrong frowns, gesturing toward the door. “Let’s step inside first.”

Naomi laughs nervously as she tries the door again, still facing him. You know, just in case Will has, in the last three minutes, worked through whatever crisis he’s currently spiraling over and decided to listen to her. No such luck—it still only opens partway, the only difference being that The Smiths are now providing the soundtrack to his moping.

She slams it shut again, offering Mr. Armstrong an apologetic smile. He does not smile back.

“Dang locks are a little finicky here. Just—wait right here. I’ll be right back.”

She doesn’t wait for his response, hurrying around the porch to the side of the house. She tries four different windows before one finally budges (thank God for faulty locks). After failing to haul herself up twice, she manages it on the third attempt, gracelessly launching herself through the window and crashing onto the living room floor—right where Will is still lying corpse-style, his bunny still perched on his chest.

First thing she does: grabs the radio, turns the volume down all the way, and shoves it on top of the bookshelf.

That, finally, gets a reaction. Will springs up, launching himself at her leg and clinging on. “Hey! I was listening to that!”

With much effort, she shakes him off before squatting down, placing both hands firmly on his shoulders. “Listen here, kiddo. You’re going to be on your best behavior, alright? Five minutes—all I’m asking, got it?”

He blows a raspberry in response—fantastic.

She releases him without another word and bolts to the door. A few frantic swipes at her shirt, a quick hair flip, and she plasters on a broad smile before yanking the door open.

 “C’mon in!”

He stares at her for a moment, and she wonders whether she banged herself up a bit too much when diving into the living room. Then, he shakes his head, sighing as he steps in.

She leads him straight to the kitchen, grimacing as the front door rattles shut behind them. At least Will had moved his moping out of the living room. Unfortunately, that just means there’s nothing to distract from the disaster zone that is both the kitchen and living room: unwashed dishes piled in the sink, a leaky tap that won’t stop dripping, their mismatched dining set, and a table buried in bills and suspicious food smatterings.

As Mr. Armstrong glances around, she zeroes in on the open cabinet exposing a crime scene of snacks: a cereal box tipped sideways with its contents scattered, a broken jar of jam dripping down the shelves in thick, red clots, and what might be half a granola bar mashed into the floor. She swears under her breath and nudges the cabinet door shut with her hip just as he turns to look at her.

“Sooo… can I get you something to drink? Water?”

Mr. Armstrong raises an eyebrow, clearly trying to peer behind her, before nodding. “Tea,” he says, then looks at her expectantly. “If you have any.”

She resists the urge to bang her head against the wall. No, sir, we fucking don’t. What do you think this is—The Ritz?

“Yes, we do! Just—uh, take a seat. I’ll get right on that.”

He looks at the table, turning up his nose slightly. “Hm… I think I’d rather stand.”

She huffs but doesn’t argue, setting the kettle on the stove before rifling through the cupboards. She can feel Mr. Armstrong’s gaze boring into her back as each cabinet turns up empty. The silence stretches, broken only by the rising whistle of the kettle.

Finally, she finds a lone tea bag shoved in the back of the shelf. She grabs it swiftly, grimacing as she realizes the label has long since faded.

…Hopefully, tea bags don’t expire.

As she drops the tea bag into the cleanest mug she can find and begins to pour the steaming water, Mr. Armstrong clears his throat.  

“Your lightbulb is flickering.”

Naomi glances back momentarily to see—yes, indeed, the lightbulb is cosplaying as a disco ball right now. “Ah. You know technology, right?”

He gives her an unimpressed look that says, no, he does not know technology or whatever. Before she can try to explain, she catches movement in the corner of her eye—Will, peeking around the doorway before sidling in. He’s ditched his bunny, but has his homemade stormtrooper helmet on (technically, a white cardboard box Naomi painted and cut eye holes into, but the thought it there).

His gaze flicks between them before settling on Mr. Armstrong, wide-eyed and curious.

“Hi. Who are you?”

“Mr. Armstrong.”

Will squints. “Your head is very shiny.”

Mr. Armstrong frowns and touches his scalp. Naomi hurries to set his tea down and shoots a dramatic thumbs-down at Will behind his back.

Will rolls his eyes. “Nice to meet you, Mister…”

He pauses, all attitude dissipating as he glances at Naomi with a flash of panic. Right. One of many things he inherited from her—an absolute inability to remember names.

She mimes something at him—flexing one arm, nodding enthusiastically.

Will blinks owlishly, then slowly turns back.

“Mister Smith?”

How even? Naomi cringes.

Mr. Armstrong, thankfully, seems less bothered by the misnaming than by being called out for his baldness. Instead, he just tilts his head and crouches down to Will’s level.

“What are you wearing there, kid?”

“It’s a stormtrooper helmet! Mama ran over my old one and we can’t get a new one yet, so she made me this one!”

Just call me Da Vinci. Her pride fades fast when she catches the side-eye Mr. Armstrong sends her behind his shades. Not impressed. If that look’s anything to go by.

He glances back to Will, leaning in a little closer. “Are you happy, Will?”

Will’s brow furrows, confused. Then, catching Naomi’s eye over his shoulder, he pulls a face as she starts miming reminders at him.

“I’m adjusted,” he says, in the least convincing voice possible.

Naomi shoots him a look. He sighs, then continues with marginally more enthusiasm.

“I eat all four food groups, look both ways before crossing the street… and take long naps and nice baths…”

It’s not the most passionate delivery, but Naomi can’t help the grin tugging at her lips as he dutifully recites the speech they’d practiced. She rolls her hands in a wrap-it-up motion.

Wrong move. Will’s expression twists in confusion.

“And I… I know how to roll over?”

Naomi grimaces, quickly drags a hand across her throat in a cut-it-out motion.

“I’m… dying? Am I dying?”

The second question is aimed squarely at her, Will staring her down. Mr. Armstrong turns slowly toward her.

Immediately, she drops her hands like they’re on fire and forces a laugh. “You know how kids are! Beautiful imaginations. The youth is our future.”

She hears Will giggle at that and shoots him a Look. He cuts it off, ducking his head just as Mr. Armstrong slowly turns around, arms folded.

“Can I go now?”

Mr. Armstrong pauses, then nods once.

Will adjusts his helmet with both hands and gives him a solemn little wave. “Bye, uh… sir.”

She stifles a groan as Will walks off.

[tookishcombeferre]

What do you like most about Sofia the First?

So, not necessarily about the show in particular, but the first thing that came to mind was the way my kid sings the theme song every time it comes on. They went from silent dancing while spinning and giving me fist bumps at the end in a sort of "choreographed" manner to now twirling, jumping, and almost fully singing the song on their own.

Sometimes, they ask me "Amma watch" and sometimes "Amma dance." I am no longer required to be an active participant. Sometimes, I'm the audience.

Also, every time they wear a dress, they sing the theme song to literally anyone who will listen. Strangers at the grocery store. My spouse. Random parents at our playgroup. Literally anyone.

It has been a beautiful change to witness.

But, about the show in particular, which is what I'm assuming you meant, I'll give you my top 5 in no particular order.

I'm a huge fan of intergenerational friendships. I was partially raised by my mom's parents, and I appreciate shows that place a focus on the friend and mentorships that can occur across the generational divide. Sofia's relationship with Cedric and Amber's relationship with Baileywick often makes me smile because they bear striking similarities to my relationships with my grandfather and grandmother respectively.

As an autistic parent and one who is also (probably?) ADHD, there is a surprising amount of lore and character development for my brain to work from and with when I get bored. No one tells you when you have a kid how much time you're going to spend just folding laundry, picking up blocks, and doing relatively boring things. It's not all playing with your kid all the time. But, you do spend a decent amount of active energy doing stuff with your kid. Hence, fan theory. And, if my fan theory brain has been pushed into what she likes to watch because I'm a little too burnt out for Dostoyevsky, Hugo, and Dickens at this stage. So be it, I guess?

I just really *like* the characters. While, I sometimes think the world building can be a little flat, my husband and I often joke that the world is built like Epcot and Enchancia is the giant golf ball in the middle, I adore the characters. Every character, even the minor ones, is quirky and has a lot of personality. They remind me a lot of Tolkien's characters in that way. From Tom Bombadil, to Smeagol, to Frodo, each character is unique and memorable in The Lord of the Rings. They may not always have development, but they have personality that makes them distinctive. Sofia the First feels much the same to me. One of my favorite examples of this is Cedric's Teacher. Cedric's teacher never speaks. He appears once in a flashback. But, we know so much about him from how Cedric remembers him. He's like the freaking Tom Bombadil of Sofia the First. He appears one time, disappears into the narrative, but he's impactful. He leaves an impression. (Granted, those two characters leave very different impressions and do very different things narratively, but you get the idea.)

StF teaches literary techniques *really* well. There aren't many *narrative* stories designed for children in the 2-5 age range. My kid loves Mickey Mouse Clubhouse amongst other things, and those shows are great for what they do. But, so many of those shows are geared towards teaching specific things like counting, colors, ABCs, etc. And, they're fantastic at it! Mickey Mouse Clubhouse makes multiplication accessible to the average toddler which ... I mean ... AMAZING. BUT! There is something important about complex narrative storytelling for little, little kids that is long form and not completely episodic. It's similar to what I appreciate about the third season of Bluey leading into "The Sign." However, Sofia the First sets up a mostly coherent plot arc from the pilot all the way through Season 4. My 2 year old could summarize each episode and what the characters are feeling. By 3, they'll likely be able to tell you the story of the whole show. And, I think that's important to have for an audience that young. Kids that age don't really sit through novels being read to them, and it's hard for them to retain the information from a novel because there really aren't pictures in most of them. (Toddlers need pictures. Toddlers need color. No beige parenting in my world. Sorry not sorry about it.) StF gives toddlers the experience of a novel visually. It has the arcs of a novel. It has the foreshadowing, the symbolism, the flashbacks, and the suspense that are age appropriate for them that would be present in a *novel.* The exposure to these techniques allows them to be discussed at an impossibly young age, if the parent is engaged, and, even if the parent isn't, it still provides the exposure to those concepts by their existence in the narrative. So, as a parent with a degree in English, I'm delighted that alongside shows that teach counting, colors, and the ABCs, a show like this exists for Squish to see literary techniques lovingly woven into a show at their level.

Finally, the music! I swear each episode has better music than some of the current Disney "blockbuster" movies. I'm a musician at heart, and these songs are bangers. I, unironically, sing many of them to myself in the car.

Thanks for the ask Anon! This was fun to answer. :D

[promise-you-doie]

Coming Home | J. Jaehyun TEASER

After hitting a dead end in your job search, you reluctantly return home to stay with your mom. However, fate has other plans as you unexpectedly cross paths with an old flame. Sparks fly as you navigate the complexities of past feelings and present circumstances, reigniting a passionate connection that refuses to be ignored.

Jaehyun x reader (Exes to lovers)

Fluff, Angst, Suggestive.

As a little girl life seemed so easy, you expected that by the time you entered your 20’s you would have graduated and walked right into your new career. If little girl you could see adult you right now she’d run away from you screaming and crying. 

You had 300 dollars, a coupon for a free medium two-topping pizza from that pizza place you order from too often, and a (useless) tech degree to your name. No one wants to hire you, you’ve ruined your credit during your college years and you just decided to end your three-year relationship. 

With all the odds turned against you, there was only one thing you could do; go back to your hometown to stay with your mom just until you got back on your feet. 

Leaving Los Angeles was already gut-wrenching but landing in Connecticut ripped away any dignity you had left. The air smelled the same as when you left, and the people hadn’t changed a bit. 

You wanted to drop down to your knees and bawl when the realization set in that this was where you were going to be for the next few months of your life. However you still had at least an ounce of dignity left in you, so you grabbed your luggage and collected your emotions to walk towards the pickup section and wait for your mom. 

Blinking back tears, you inhaled a deep breath and pulled out your phone. Waiting patiently as your phone searched for service in the area. When the service finally sets in, your phone blows up with 70 different alerts. Two calls from your best friend, Yeri, and three text messages from her telling you to have a safe trip and to keep your head up. 

Six missed calls from your ex boyfriend, and seven text messages from him begging you to talk to him. 

 51 emails from the various job search sites that you signed up with, and one singular text message from your mom. 

Mom: Hey! I won’t be able to make it. But don’t worry, I’ll have Jaehyun come pick you up. Can’t wait to see you! 

As if on cue, a familiar black 2015 Toyota Corolla pulls up right in front of you, and none other than Jung Jaehyun gets out of the car. 

“This has to be a joke.” You breathe, your shoulders raising as you do so. 

He smirks the second he lays eyes on you, “Wow you haven’t aged a bit.” 

You wished you could say the same about him, he’d grown a lot more mature since you last saw him. He wasn’t the 18-year-old boy you were once head over heels for. He was way taller, he grew his hair out and you could tell that he started using the gym. 

“Why are you here?” you look up at him with folded arms. 

He doesn’t take you seriously, he never did. “Sorry I’m late.” he chuckles and takes your suitcase from beside you to load it in the back of his car. 

Once he finishes his first task, he walks back around to open the door for you. Gesturing to the passenger seat with both arms and a smile that you wished you could hate. 

“I’m not getting in the car, Jaehyun.” You remain in your spot, arms still folded over your chest. 

“No?” he asks condescendingly.

 You repeat, “No.” firm on your feet. 

“Well I guess, I’ll see you there then.” You watch him close the door and walk to the driver's side, all without sparing you a single look. He starts the car and drives away, leaving you with two options. 

You could chase after him and embarrass yourself, or you could remain stubborn and just call an Uber. 

You choose to chase the car after realizing that the phone that you would use to call an Uber was sitting in the back of his trunk.  

He watched you run after him from his rearview mirror, he slowed down but refused to stop until you were banging on the side of the window begging him to stop. He got a thrill out of this, and you could tell. 

“Did you change your mind?” He teases.

Physically Jaehyun was a completely different person, he grew up well you’ll admit that. But personality-wise? He hadn’t changed at all. He was still the same sarcastic asshole you met in high school. 

You mutter “I don’t have my phone.” as you slide into the passenger seat. You subtly look around, taking notice that the car still smelled the same way you remembered it was just cleaner now. Sooner or later your eyes dart to the back seat, and Jaehyun chuckles when you do. 

“So what’s L. A like?” He asks suddenly, one hand on the steering wheel and the other draped over his thigh. 

“It’s fun and different. My boyfriend helped to introduce me to a lot of new things.” You purposely mention your (ex) boyfriend just to see his reaction. 

To your dismay, his reaction is as simple as none. He only asks “How’s long-distance gonna work out for you? It didn’t seem to work with us.” 

“We’ll do fine.” 

The car falls quiet for a few moments before he starts up a new conversation. 

“I’m glad you're back.” The statement seemed taunting even if you knew that’s not how he meant it. You always dreamed of moving away to a big city where no one knew who you were, and now that you're back home it just felt like you were a failure. 

“I’m not staying for long.” you gaze out of the window. 

“Since you’re back in town we should hang out sometime.” He suggests, sneaking glances at you. 

“I didn’t come back to see you.” 

“Suit yourself, but remember I'm always just a phone call away.”

Read here

[messrsrarchives]

i abandoned this wip a while ago and completely stopped writing it but 👉🏻👈🏻 i wanna share some of it bc i think it's pretty decent 👉🏻👈🏻

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Trauma is… complex, at the best of times. Harry knows this. He’s listened to Mind Healer after Mind Healer explain the intricacies of it - about how his trauma is not only woven into the creases of his brain and his daily life, but that his magical core is fraying as well. Slowly, yes, but it’s fraying. Ripping apart at the seams until he’s either wasting away, or no more magical than a muggle.

Harry can’t help but find this painfully ironic.

To be brought into a world that you knew nothing about, to spend your formative teenage years fighting for not only your life - the fight would’ve ended a lot sooner if that were the case - but for everybody. People who know your name and your story but not you. People who would weep if they heard about what happened in the Forbidden Forest, not because they care about him individually, but because for some reason, this 11 year old boy found in a cupboard is their pinnacle of hope.

To be brought to a school you’ve heard nothing about, to sit in an office with a man you trusted with your life, only to find out that he’s the reason you have it at all. That he’s the reason you’re here, standing in vast hallways or sitting in a crowded common room, keeping tabs on everyone that could potentially harm him rather than joining in on teenage antics.

To be brought up as a soldier that didn’t have a choice, to spend nine months carting around finding Horcruxes whilst the rest of the world holds their breath waiting for the finale. Spending months upon months finding pieces of a rotted soul, and not realising that for every part you find, your own is rotting. Pieces of yourself you can never get back and instead of receiving concern or help, you’re applauded.

To win. To win this egregious fight, to outdo every wizard that has tried before and be shown off on stage like some precious antique with indescribable worth, to look out at faces of people who admire you and all you want is for the cupboard door to open once more and wake you up.

All of this, and so much more, and his magical core is fraying? The very thing that brought him here - that led to every loss, every fight, every death - is folding in upon itself?

The Mind Healer called him ‘self-aware’ when he pointed out all the reasons his core is dying.

Yeah, Harry thinks, that’s the problem.

Because whilst Harry might be self-aware, he was never self-preservative.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

He’s overly aware of everything as he leans over to the bedside table to top up his glass with the bottle placed there: aware of the sound of amber liquid falling into crystal glass, aware of the weight of it in his hand and the way his wrist twists to bring it to his lips, aware of the slightly sticky feeling of it over his tongue, and far too aware of the burning down his throat, through to his stomach. A burn that never quite fades really.

The alcohol will stop burning after a couple of seconds, the shame won’t. The guilt won’t. Harry won’t stop burning up from the inside out.

As forms of dying go, burning isn’t high on the list. Actually, Harry would argue that it would be an awful way to go and he has the scars on his calves and the unforgettable scent of burning flesh embedded in his nose to support this.

Is burning the right word to use? He isn’t sure. He’s not sure of much right now, but burning feels wrong. Burning implies speed and ferocity, like one moment an object is fine, the next it’s burning, and the next it’s gone. Harry isn’t burning. He’s doing something slower, potentially more excruciating - he’s singeing - lighting superficially, slowly, quietly. The kind of flame that could be put out before it reaches its peak if someone cared to notice.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Guilt, as he opens up the door to Teddy’s nursery and walks over to the crying form in the crib. Guilt, as he picks him up and cradles him as best he can, bouncing him slightly up and down and knowing that his arms weren’t built for this, that these arms aren’t the ones Teddy needs. He needs his parents. He needs capable, loving, consistent parents. Andromeda is a fine substitute, a mighty one even, but it takes a village and Harry's barely a resident of his.

“Shh, shhh, you’re okay. I’ve got you.” Harry continues to mumble to Teddy as he paces slowly around the room, rubbing a hand up and down his back to try to quench the sobs. He doesn’t know exactly how long it takes, but eventually Teddy quiets down and is grasping at Harry’s hair.

“Do you wanna give that back? No? Okay.” Harry watches through slightly foggy eyes as Teddy’s short mass of light brown hair turns black and disorganised on his head, falling slightly into his eyes without Harry’s signature glasses there to prevent it.

Harry pushes the hair out of Teddy’s now smiling face, his eyes catching on the right side of his forehead. The clear, unmarked, right side of his forehead - just above his brow, edging towards his hairline.

Green eyes staring back at him, a mess of black hair held back by his fingers, a nose slowly shifting shape - the technicalities of bone structure still too complex for a 1-year-old to accomplish.

It feels like looking into a mirror. Not your usual one, not a perfect reflection. Not one quite like the Mirror of Erised either, but somewhere in between - somewhere between desire and reality, where Harry is gazing at a copy of him that isn’t hindered by the jagged stretch of skin and all it contains. A copy of him, born at the end of a war, orphaned, too young to understand why Mummy and Daddy aren’t coming back.

Too young to understand why Harry is crying right now.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

[funnyexel]

autumn night

Sighing with your shoulders slumped at your sides, you sluggishly shuffle into the bathroom. Refining your clothes to a pile on the floor, you twist the complex knob of your shower, effectively earning the correct temperature. As you see your reflection slowly fog up. Looking at your body through the glass, you’re adoring it more than usual. Your skin shining just right in the lighting, your boobs sitting just right all by themselves, your waist and chubby stomach not bothering you as much as it used to. Eyeing the shiny string of beads that sit on the small of your waist, you lightly tug on them and slide them down your hips. The jewelry sitting atop the pile of clothes on the floor. Picking up the dazzling beads, you place it on the counter and get in the shower.

Lathering your body up, the water hits the shower floor in a continuous pattern. From the bed he can’t help but fantasize about your naked body, even if his focus is on his computer filing hero reports. Hearing the shower stop, he types faster, wanting to finish the mandatory work. 

Walking out the bathroom with a towel hugging and hiding your body, a cloud of steam stalks behind you. Putting on panties and one of your husband’s t-shirts, you hang up your towel and look back at him.

“kats? baby?” You softly call out to him. He mumbles to you a moment later. His crimson eyes accompanied by glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

“are you almost done?” You whine and he doesn’t grace you with an answer. Although his annoyance is projected through his furrow eyebrows and pierced lips. 

Walking up to your side of the bed, you nudge your knee on the mattress. A noticeable dip in the comfortable surface. Gazing at him for a moment, you hesitantly lean towards him for a kiss. He glances at your actions and ignores the advance. Huffing to yourself you leave the room, making sure to put a sway in your hips to mess with him. Since he was clearly messing around with you. Your sweet tooth was aching. No matter how bad it is to eat sweets so late at night, you needed to satisfy the urge. 

Opening the fridge door in search for ice cream, you are unpleasantly surprised to see nothing. Glaring intensely at the shelf its supposed to be on, you know who’s the culprit. And all you can think is how he could be so selfish. Eating all the ice cream and not leaving one single scoop for you. And he has the nerve to preach about being healthy. Trudging back to the bedroom, your sweet tooth is gone and all you have on your mind is confrontation. 

“You ate my stuff.” You exclaim to him, voice mixed with annoyance and amusement at his unfazed face.

“I eat a lot of your stuff, be specific.”

“You-“ Halting your sentence with a huff, you roll your eyes and shut the door behind you, “the ice cream. You ate it. The pint that had a sticky note that specifically says my name on it!”

You could find this all so laughable if it wasn’t for his little attitude. Closing his laptop, he folds his hands on top the device and motions for you to come close to him. 

“Yeah I ate it. Now what?” Shaking your head at his intimidating words, your eyes narrowed as you look at him. 

He must love when you’re upset at him. Maybe it’s because you suck his cock better with more malus than caution or because you ride him rougher than you would ever normally. He probably loves the way you grip onto his chest when you throw your ass back on him as he grips your hair until you have a throbbing headache. It could be over the littlest things but still, it makes your movements and intent more careless towards your husband.

Gritting your teeth as he holds you in a headlock with your back arched against his chest. You grunt as you bathe in the twisted euphoria of being “mad” at each other. Short and quick thrusts into your cunt, the corner of his lip is upturned in a small smirk at the position he has you in. Showing how much stronger and dominant he is. Feeling your curvy body tremble against him as he forces another orgasm out of you. 

‘Over some damn ice cream.’ He thinks.

In his eyes you’re begging to be fucked into oblivion. Maybe it’s been a long week, no dick and now you forgot how to act with him. But don’t worry, he’ll whip you back into shape. Pounding his cock into your tight gummy walls, to remind you of the burn. The burn of his cock molding itself back into your pussy after a long break. He’ll even feel up your lower abdomen to feel him puncturing your stomach and will even press onto your tummy to hear your pleading whines and cries. 

He loves your pained whining, it’s a wonder really. How you can find the breath to scream when he’s basically smashing your organs together with how deep he’s fucking you.

kinktober list

regular writing list

[she-walked-away]

Tag Game Tuesday Monday: 911 Lone Star Fandom Edition

It took me nearly a week to get to it, but thanks Anne @thisbuildinghasfeelings for tagging me!!!

When did you first start watching Lone Star? Who or what introduced you to the show?

Funnily enough, I was watching the Super Bowl in 2020 and was folding laundry when they showed a promo from Lone Star and it was the part where they were talking to the old lady and I heard "Sure ma'am but just so you know I'm a homosexual" and I looked up because that was VERY random for a commercial to say and I the rest of the scene aired and I thought it was one of the best things I've ever seen lmao.

I actually did not start watching the show until 1x08 when TK got shot and I was HOOKED. I remember having to miss the season 1 finale to go to the grocery and checking my twitter account to see if Tarlos got together in the end ajkdhafdas

Which season is your favorite?

Season 3!

I'll never forget the EXPERIENCE that Push was. I was on a whole rollercoaster of emotions and I remember watching the TK waking up and Grace giving birth montage live and when it went off, my husband sitting behind me and very quietly going "whoa." We were both SHOOK. And then the proposal happened in 3x18 and I slunk off my couch because I was dying happily.

I think my rank is 3, 4 bc of the wedding and SOULMATES!!!, 2, and then 1. I really did like season 2 but you can tell Tim kind of bum rushed the ending dalkhdf

Who is your favorite character? (Bonus: If you answered TK or Carlos, who is your favorite besides them?)

TK and Carlos will always be number one and I cannot pick a favorite between them. They're both so complex and interesting.

I think my second favorite has got to be Tommy. She always just *fit* in the show better than Michelle and I think she's hilarious and smart and her friendship with Grace and Judd are my favorites. Plus, I love how she and Owen play off each other.

Top five episodes. Go!

Push - nothing will ever top this I'm afraid

Bad Call

Saving Grace

Red vs Blue- LET THEM HAVE FUNNY QUIRKY EPISODES LIKE THIS BUT MORE CARLOS

In Sickness and Health

If you could pick any character to be given a "begins" episode, who would it be and what would that episode look like?

After season 4- I kind of NEED a Carlos one. I always want one and I think we learned a lot about him last season, but 4x18 opened a lot more questions about his childhood for me. Especially since he genuinely doesn't seem to remember a lot of the good times with his dad and it makes me curious if there is some underlying reason why other than just distance as he grew up.

But also NANCY. What is her backstory?? Her dad told her to start saving when she was little and she has thousands of dollars that she can lend out?? I want to know if there is more to it! And how did she get her start? Was she with the original 126 paramedic squad?

What is a scenario or storyline that you would like to see in season 5?

Obviously Gabriel's murder being solved and it would be great if Tarlos did it TOGETHER. And if one of them is in dangerous peril at the same time in front of the other- would not complain. I'm all for a "being threated and stalked" kind of storyline- I was thinking of along the lines of The Watcher by @ladytessa74 I want to be scared!! And to watch them be scared and IN LOVE AND A TEAM

I saw this earlier, but an episode from like B-shifts POV. You know that Owen and the firefam respond to the most INSANE calls, so I want to see what B shift and Captain Harper's POV is towards A shift. I think it would be hilarious.

Also- give me some silliness within the Catan Crew. Like maybe someone gets a little TOO into a game and then we have an episode of them all pranking each other or a little funny divide- similar to 4x16, but without them actually fighting.

What do you think is going on in this still?

It's Ghost face from Scream asking Carlos what his favorite scary movies are

:)

I think it's either about Gabriel's murder or them finding out that Robert is dead. Rob Lowe said we'd see part of that day so I wonder if we will see the aftermath since I don't think Robert necessarily died within a week after the wedding.

We all know about the elusive 5x05 spicy scene that has been teased, so what is your prediction for how it could possibly top 1x02?

I think it could DEF be some *spicy* shower sex. If TK get's injured in 504, Carlos should help make him feel all nice and healed in the SHOWER

Where was the Tarlos honeymoon in your mind?

I think somewhere in Texas like Galveston. It's not too far away, but I think it's far enough to where TK and Carlos would feel okay leaving both their parents for a short trip. I headcanon that they spent A LOT of money on a quick 8 week wedding *cries in timeline* and so they'd have to save up for a bigger and longer honeymoon.

Shoutout one of your favorite fan creations.

I HAVE SO MANY SO I AM SO SORRY IF I FORGET TO MENTION. It's hard to me to count my favorite stories beacuse I think this fandom has so many. I usually put them on my kindle when I'm traveling so I can reread on a long road trip and read in between the Pluto TV commercials during my long treadmill runs.

I just found my password for Ao3 that i created in 2015 (i was a fanfiction.net OG and live journal girly lol really dating myself) so I am currently making my way through reviewing @welcometololaland's ALTA and I have so many other ones to review as well! @strandnreyes, @reyesstrand, @paperstorm, @carlos-in-glasses, @ladytessa74, @rmd-writes , @goodways, @heartstringsduet , @liminalmemories21 , @lemonlyman-dotcom and literally so many more. I love going back and rereading fics on my work breaks now I'm back from leave and now that I have my password back, I plan on continuing that!!

I love gifsets by @guardian-angle22, @lutavero, @reasonandfaithinharmony, and more!

Also Anne's @thisbuildinghasfeelings cross-stitch!! Literally SO FREAKING COOL.

If I forgot you, I am so sorry. But if you write or make art or anything else in this fandom- just know that I am obsessed with everything you do :) I've just been silently stalking this fandom since like 2020

[lightwily]

I wanted to write a serious analysis post to prove that I have shit to say but I'm too tired so here's some hcs about their uni days before I log off for the night:

> light struggled with forming friendships prior to meeting wily. I think despite being affable, most people tended to like him on a surface level and as a result he never really felt understood or valued in any of his relationships (I also think he could be somewhere on the autism spectrum and masks whenever he's not working, but maybe I'm just projecting lol)

> light reached out to wily first, due to recognising their shared passion. I think part of the appeal could've also been in how wily didn't look up to light as obviously as everyone else, which, to light, made him more approachable

> wily was very averse to light's friendship initially. at this point, his chronic inferiority complex was in full swing, prompting him to pick out the "best" student in his course (light) and treat them as a rival. in his mind, light's attempts to befriend him were a form of mockery, an attempt to make the one person who saw through him fold. this was compounded by the fact that deep down, wily did in fact regard light with the same sort of reverence as everyone else, he just diluted it with bitter envy and hatred.

> eventually, wily accepted light's friendship on the internal grounds that it'd be easier for him to gain influence whilst working with light rather than against him

> wily spent the better part of this friendship (begrudgingly) (semi-consciously) pining; I like to think that he was extremely territorial of his friendship with light whilst simultaneously resenting his kindness; this, combined with feelings that ranged from "this guy isn't the worst... at least he understands what I'm getting at" (<- horrifically in love) to "someone needs to fucking kill this guy and it'll be ME" led to a lot of internal push-and-pull on his behalf. light was vaguely aware that something was up, but 1) didn't know how to broach the topic 2) figured wily would be able to sort it out himself. this would obviously bite him in the ass later, but in his defense I don't think wily would be open to the idea of an emotionally honest conversation even if light tried