I Hope My Mom Heals From The Things She Doesn’t Talk About

Johnny @ The 2022 Met Gala

you’re not “too broken” to be loved!!!! it’s never too late to give love and to receive it, to find people you connect with. some crappy humans may have made you feel like your heart is too heavy for anyone to hold, but you’re flawed and scared and worthy just like everybody else. you don’t have to run away from the love you deserve.

when’s my turnnnn god

warm and fuzzy and a little confused - haechan scenario

ofcourse how could i start this year without a cute scenario with my favorite fullsun🥺💛 hope you like it! as always i appreciate all your support! leave a like/comment here if you have any questions or suggestions!

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2022 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

If someone asked you years ago if you’ll ever feel this kind of happiness, you’d probably say no. Heartaches after heartbreak, you’ve long given up on searching for love. 

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“And I knew it. That’s the worst part: I knew it.”

“I’m going to spend the rest of my life making you laugh”

Seokjin x Reader (or oc)

Word count: 1.4K

a/n: Here’s a Jinnie drabble where him and his s/o realize their in love while their laughing, which I think is freaking cute. The whole end of this is just them kissing and laughing. I don’t know, I just like the idea of Jin finding a partner who he can laugh and laugh and laugh with. Even when they’re trying to have a heated kiss. I hope you all enjoy! Thanks for reading!

Seokjin must have just told his ninth dad joke of the night, and you were both practically rolling on the ground, choking on your own cackles. Both of you were seated cross-legged on your sofa, facing each other. His face was lit up in delight as his eyes watched you, a loud laugh bursting from his grinning mouth. You were holding your hands over your wide smile, your eyes crinkled so much you could hardly see out of them, and an equally loud laugh booming from your vocal chords.

Looking at him, mid laugh. That’s when you knew.

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nak repost this seribu kali

It’s The Way You Learn To Love

pairing: any (male) idol x you

word count: 1.1k

a/n: ik this is something very different and HYYH is gonna be updated a lil later I have just been in my feels so. here’s a short lil thing you can input your bias into (i originally wrote it for wonwoo actually haha) :) please. tell me what you think cuz tbh I am so insecure about my writing it’s been a hot minute since I did so regularly lol, also to my fellow abused babes whose view of love has been warped because of what they’ve been through you’re not alone and you deserve to have this! without further ado here is a very self indulgent drabble lol

It’s the way you thought he forgot your birthday. He comes home from work with a soft smile, excited to see you as always, and your heart sinks when you see his empty hands. He pulls you into a hug and tells you you’re going out for the night, and to wear whatever you like. You swallow the lump in your throat and do your makeup, and he takes you to the cinema; the fancy one you like, with the cushy sofas and drinks delivered to your seat. He buys a bottle of wine and pulls you back against his chest and presses a soft kiss into your hair, whispering “happy birthday, baby”, and you feel a wave of guilt wash over you.

“I thought you forgot, you didn’t get me anything”

“We just never did that in my family, so I didn’t really think to. I’m sorry, we can go shopping together after this if you want,” And you realise you hadn’t really discussed it, he wasn’t raised that way, and the memories you made that night meant more to you than any material possession could have. When your anniversary comes a few months later he arrives home holding a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates.

It’s the way he holds your hand in crowds because he knows you get anxious and, while he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he is scared of losing you in the sea of people. He traces circles on the back of your hand absentmindedly; a subconscious way of calming you down. And when you glance back at him he grins and gives your hand three squeezes - your own nonverbal way of saying “I love you”. You squeeze back. One. Two. Three.

It’s the way you got all done up because you weren’t feeling great about yourself and he doesn’t mention it. You are in a bad mood all day and even you don’t realise why. You go to see him in the practice room and the members are all slightly teasing.

“You’re looking just as good as he’s been saying,”

“He hasn’t shut up about you all day!”

And he kisses you in front of them all, which he never usually does, eyes adoring and bright as he gazes down at you. He sees the vulnerability in yours. He’s absolutely lovesick, he’s just shy, and you blush as he cups your face in his hands.

“You look so good, always,” he whispers, shutting out the oohing and aahing of the other men watching you.

It’s the way he reads to you in a deep, gentle voice as you lie in his lap and look up to watch his concentrated face. Every so often he moves his hand to card it through your hair, or lean down to kiss you briefly, and when you’re lulled into a peaceful sleep by the husky susurrations he chuckles softly and pulls the blanket off the back of the couch to cover you with. “I knew that would work,” he murmurs. You have been struggling to sleep recently. He keeps his fingers running through your tresses idly, unable to take his eyes off of you.

It’s the way he brings you random clay figures and kitschy knick knacks from antique shops because they made him think of you, your favourite chocolate bar from the corner store near your apartment because you had a bad day, your coffee in the morning from the coffee shop down the street because you’re too busy. And he never asks anything in return, but he never has to, because you do the same for him. You’re always on each other’s minds. Your apartment is full of tiny things. Your favourite is a set of baby blue and grey porcelain cat salt and pepper shakers, because they are so reminiscent of you both.

It’s the way he sits on the floor and holds you tight to him as your body shakes, wracked with sobs, as the stress overwhelms you. And he tells you your anxiety, your depression, your stress - they are not going to make him leave no matter how much you’ve been made to feel like they’re flaws. He tells you love is not the dopamine rush that makes you addicted to someone and he is not chasing a high - his love is caring, his love is patient, his love is not only available to you when you are happy and doing everything he wants. He tells you he hates that you’ve been made to feel like you’re only lovable when you’re useful or ‘nice to be around’, and that you never have to hide your bad days or be afraid to be vulnerable with him. Your fists are balled into his shirt and you apologise incoherently for ruining it with your tears. He kisses your forehead and rocks you in his lap, fingers tracing random shapes on your back. At one point he draws “i ♡ you” on your skin and you can’t help giggling through the tears. He knows you would do the same. In fact you have, many times.

It’s the way he stays silent as you yell at him, random things that don’t mean anything but you’re just too pent up to care. And he knows you’re getting overly emotional and starting arguments over nothing because of how you were raised and your tense home environment, he never blames you, he just waits until you’re all cried out before asking if you need space to calm down or are okay to talk about it now. You never insult him, it is never personal, and he gets it. He doesn’t have to, but he does.

It’s the way you need to vent and he just sits and nods. He listens intently, and he isn’t waiting for his turn to speak. He isn’t thinking about what he could say. He’s genuinely listening, and when you’re finished he tells you it sounds stressful, and he’s proud of you, and he’s always there to hear you out, and you feel a million pounds lighter.

It’s the way you’re both screaming, the atmosphere is tense, and neither of you can really remember why you got so angry. His pride doesn’t get in the way though, and he makes sure every time you fight to tell you he loves you, because he knows you’re scared he’ll leave. And he reminds you it’s normal to fight, and you will talk it out and be okay, and no matter what he adores you and is not going anywhere just because you disagree on something. Because you’re two different people, of course you will have different opinions, but at the end of the day you are one. You tell him you love him too.

It’s the way you have to unlearn everything you were ever taught.

It’s the way he gives you the space to.

It’s the way he loves you.

He loves you.

☆ camellia ☆

♩: camellia - slchld

pairings: haechan x gn!reader. genres: springtime fluff. warnings: casual profanity. synopsis: you're the prettiest flower earth has ever witnessed.

haechan calls you many things. baby. bestie. angel. stink bug. my love. stupid ass. bro. haechan also likes to get you flowers when you least expect flowers because—he tells you—when he’s with you, it’s like spring never left.

when haechan gets you flowers, it’s never a small bundle of five roses picked up from the supermarket or a standard arrangement from an outdated catalogue of an online store. it’s peonies; soft pink buds opening to cream. black pearl lisianthus for date nights and fragrant tuberoses on days when the night feels a little colder than usual. haechan never forgets to let you know that you are loved, treasured. so he sends you peach tulips—sixty-nine of them (you counted and have confronted him about the specific number). sometimes, he leaves a bundle of spring-kissed ranunculuses in your locker and an undercooked cupcake—homemade, you presume. sometimes, he gifts you a single white daisy which he stealthily nicks from his vengeful neighbour’s backyard. he’s done it thrice and has never been caught. 

on one morning in early june, you woke up to blushing spring at your doorsteps; a huge bed of hot pink camellias on a low, round glass vase. that week, your entire living room smelled like spring. 

haechan will probably never tell you this, not because he’s got a lion’s pride, he’s just—get this—shy. when he sat across you in a booth of a rundown diner on the side of a forest highway during a late night drive home from his lacrosse game, and when he watched as you took a large bite of the cheeseburger, smiling, mouth full, at how good the sauce was, haechan knew he wanted you. to be with you. to watch you eat cheeseburgers for the rest of his life.

he wished diners didn’t have to close.

that night, haechan thought about writing you a poem. something short with a bit of edge like dickinson. or perhaps a haiku. but he barely passed literature and rhymes were the least of concerns right now. then he thought of flowers. his form of poetic expression. a sixth love language you never knew existed.

haechan calls you many things. but you love it most when he calls you his camellia. for as long as spring still sings and the sun still shines, you’ll always be his most precious camellia.

© luvm4rk 2022. all rights reserved.

🌼 picnic - choi vernon (500 follower special) 🌼

ask: 'for your 500 follower event, could i get a fluff drabble with husband!vernon about going on a surprise picnic with fem wife? Ty ty also congrats :)) you deserve it~' - @hanzzzol

genre: lots of fluff! + husband!vernon au

content warnings: none that i know of!

wc: 1k (a drabble, yeah)

a/n: thank you for both the request and the kind words my lovely! this was such a cute idea and i hope i did it justice 💞 feedback is of course always appreciated, and the 500 follower event can be found here :)

The world seemed to still as your eyes met, both of you staring at one another like a deer caught in headlights. Vernon blinked first, rapidly, swallowing hard.

“What are you doing home?” You broke the heavy silence with furrowed brows, finally shaking your shock and frankly just happy you weren’t in the middle of a home invasion. He looked down at the lamp you were grasping in your hands and burst into laughter, the reality of the situation setting in.

“Did you bring that to attack me with?” He choked out around giggles, causing your face to heat up as you set the porcelain base on the countertop.

“I brought it to attack whomever was robbing my home, actually,” you scoffed in response, padding over to wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face into his chest. His sweater was soft against your cheek, and even though it smelled of the detergent you always used, he smelled like home. “I thought you left for work?” He raised a hand to pet your hair, smiling fondly as your words were muffled by his clothes.

“We have the day off today, I just wanted to surprise you,” he murmured into your hair as he pressed a kiss into it. “I went to the store, look!” You reluctantly pried your face away to look at the kitchen countertop before you, wondering how you hadn’t seen the assortment of finger foods when you’d initially walked in. Sandwiches were in the process of being cut up into cute triangles and various fruits were packed into tupperware containers, fresh pastries nestled in greaseproof paper beside them. He started towards the living room, begrudgingly removing your arms from his sides. He felt like every part of you was made for him, as you fit together so perfectly, like you were a puzzle piece he’d been missing. He adored your warmth and your scent, the way you nuzzled into him at any given opportunity, the way he could feel you smile against him even when he couldn’t see your face.

Your hand fit snugly in his as he led you through the doorway, gesturing proudly to the sofa. Sat atop the cushions was a wicker basket, delicately weaved, large and spacious with white ribbons adorning the handles and circling the middle. You gasped at how pretty it was before it hit you; you’d mentioned in passing that you’d never been on a picnic before a few weeks ago when Vernon had chosen Emma for your weekly film night, but you hadn’t put much thought into it.

“You remembered that?” You smiled softly, touched by the gesture, and he nodded with a grin.

“I might forget my own birthday sometimes, but I never forget anything you tell me,” he chuckled as you pulled him in for a chaste kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“Thank you,” you whispered, to which he kissed you briefly again.

“Anything for you, wifey,” he cooed, chortling when you exaggeratedly pretended to gag. “I’ll finish the food, get ready to head out.”

The breeze was soft, tousling your hair and tickling your skin as you laughed heartily with your husband. The sky was azure and entirely clear, deep blue fading to a silvery pale hue on the horizon, and the trees rustled gently as if conversing with one another. Magpies sat among the leaves, calling out and singing, but the sound was drowned out by shrieking children playing nearby. The food was delicious, moreso in your opinion because you were enjoying it with your favourite person in your favourite park. You pointed every dog you saw out to him with an excitement he was always quick to mirror, and earned kisses all over your face as a result, him squealing about how you were irresistibly cute.

Eventually, you let your head fall into Vernon’s lap as you giggled at another one of his silly jokes, not missing the way his face softened when he looked down at you. He brushed a strand of hair from your face and let his hand rest warmly on your cheek, both of you falling suddenly quiet as you simply observed one another.

“You’re so pretty,” he hummed after a moment, eyes scanning over your face tenderly.

“You see my face like, every day,” you chuckled, trying to wave off his compliment in spite of the knowledge he could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. “Even when you’re on tour, I’m literally your phone wallpaper,” you picked his phone up from the gingham blanket and showed him the screen as if he were somehow unaware, making him scoff.

“Doesn’t matter, you’re still absolutely angelic,” he said, pressing his lips into a thin line as he took his phone back and with it, your focus. “If anything I find you even prettier with every day that we’re married.” You pouted at his words, inexplicably shy, which caused him to grin fondly. “You’re adorable, too,” he laughed, reaching for the pot of strawberries he’d been eating before you’d distracted him and holding one to your lips. You took a small bite and hummed, feeling entirely peaceful, as he put the rest of the fruit in his mouth and sighed contentedly through his nose. He leaned back on one arm, using it to hold his weight while the other stroked your hair, occasionally removing it again to feed you another strawberry, his mouth turning up every time you whined at the loss of touch. You watched the children in the playground before casting your eyes back to your husband’s annoyingly perfect, chiselled face, finding him surveying them as well.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked quietly, almost inaudibly, to which he shook his head.

“I think that’s a discussion for another time,” he replied wistfully, to which you nodded, snuggling further into his lap. “We should definitely make a routine of this, whenever we have the time,” you closed your eyes and hummed in agreement.

“I just enjoy spending my time with you, no matter what we do.”

it’s yours - haechan imagine

i miss hyuck so yea here’s another scenario😭🥺💛 hope you like it! also stream beatbox!! what’s your favorite track of the album? 

As always thank you for your support! 

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2022 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine. credit to original owner)

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{Quotes: lilyrainpoety ( insta)/ Albert Camus, The Fall/fausto melotti l'uomo costant (1936) /Gemma troy/ainslie hogarth motherthing/‘what i could never confess without some bravado’, emily palermo/ Richard siken/mohmmad darwish//painting:holy Warburton//photos: pinterest}