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always-just-red · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! Hope this finds you well. Saw the request and wanted to ask for a Yandere Sylus with player reader. Like Sylus knows Mc is a player and he is a game character. When mc was gone for too long, Sylus gets impatient.

If you can do it, of course. If no, ignore this. Wish you writing ideas and inspiration

Hi! Hope you're well too, anon! Sorry for the long wait on this one, got really stuck with it and wanted to make sure I did it justice-- it was such a cool idea! (Also I know L&D has the microphone feature but I wanted to have fun with the limited communication of the player here, so no it doesn't, actually!! 🥰)

Fourth Wall

Sylus x Player!Reader 🩸

Summary: L&D is getting more and more real with each update. This is a new update... right?

Genre: idk really?? real world player x character

Warnings/Additional tags: yandere themes, player!reader, gender neutral, fourth-wall breaking, non-canon, swearing, mild threat, possessiveness, manipulation, Sylus is a little OOC here (we all know he's a sweetheart really!!)

| Word count: 1.5k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Your phone lights up with a notification.

Sylus: Are you in a good mood, sweetie? The weather’s nice, so let’s go out.

It makes you smile, even though you’ve seen it before. You haven’t played Love and Deepspace for two weeks or so, and you’re already thinking about how many dailies you’ve missed— more specifically, how many diamonds you’ll be short of going into the next event. You had a couple thousand saved, you think? It’s probably fine.

The truth is, you don’t really have time for it these days. Escaping reality with fiction is fun, but it’s just that: make believe. Reality’s still waiting for you on the other side, and recently? All that escaping has finally caught up to you. You have a real life. Responsibilities. Yay!

But you are in a good mood, and the weather is nice, so you’ll log in for old time’s sake. Your finger hovers over the app, but something makes you hesitate. You’ve got some emails you should probably get back to, first. Oh— and weren’t you supposed to call your friend, too?

Another notification:

Sylus: Take your time, kitten.

A new one? It’s just text on a screen, but you’re reading it— Sylus’s voice in your head—and you just know it’s dripping sarcasm. Before you have any time to dwell on it, your phone lights up with more notifications.

Sylus: I’m going to count to three.

Cute. He’s not actually going to—

Sylus: One…

Oh.

Sylus: Two…

Really?

Sylus: Three.

Okay.

You tap on the app, weirdly motivated by the time pressure given that it’s coming from a man who doesn’t actually exist. He smirks at you knowingly from the kindled moment you’d set as the loading screen, his crimson eyes playful. You’re not particularly patient either, so your fingers drum along the surface of your desk as you wait, your gaze caught between his and the slowly moving loading bar.

Come on… come on… It finally loads, and you enter the game with another apathetic tap. Sylus stands, waiting— a dark figure framed by the otherwise light and dreamy aesthetics of the Destiny Café. You smile to yourself; it’s just gone lunch, and you half expected to find him sprawled in the usual armchair, fast asleep.

He crosses his arms. “The countdown worked, huh? What are you— five?”

You scoff and give his head a flick. He chuckles, running a hand through his hair as though you’d struck him hard enough to ruffle it. It’s kind of cool that you get some unique dialogue when you’ve not logged in for a while, although… have you missed an update or something? The animation feels smoother. More lifelike, now you think about it.

Sylus stares back at you, his lips playing into a subtle smile. His arms are crossed again and he tilts his head like he’s enjoying your scrutiny. “Something wrong, sweetie?” he asks.

Not really. You zoom in with a practiced sweep of your fingers so you can get a better look at him. His eyes flit downwards, over you— equally shameless— and then he’s meeting your gaze as he steps forward, closing the distance. He can’t see you, but you still can’t bring yourself to look away from him, and you’re not really thinking about the animation anymore.

He lifts a finger to poke at the screen, as if he’s caught you daydreaming and wants you back. You poke him, too: a softer, more affectionate boop on the nose. You can’t help laughing to yourself as his face screws up beneath the touch. This game is getting a little too real.

With a sigh, you zoom out so you can set about collecting your daily log-in rewards. Sylus seems fine— standing idly by as your attention drifts about elsewhere. He knows the drill. He can wait. Speaking of waiting… it’s also been a while since you’ve seen the other guys, and you’re struck by a pang of nostalgic fondness. You might as well say hi while you’re here.

You hit the button to change who you want to meet in the café.

It doesn’t do anything.

Weird. You hit it again. Then again— no change.

Sylus is holding his chin as he regards where your finger aimlessly meets the screen. It’s like he’s looking at… the button? “Oh dear,” he sympathises, “that feature appears to have stopped working.”

You don’t really hear him, honestly. You’ve never had a bug like this, and you’re determined to overcome it with sheer, stubborn persistence. Is it your phone? You test the theory by jabbing Sylus’s chest, and he glances down, apparently feeling it. You try the button again. Then six more times.

Sylus wanders closer to you. “You’re hurting my feelings, sweetie. Am I not enough for you?”

Okay but why isn’t this working? You’re still trying the button; your hope has turned to frenzied disbelief.

“Stop.”

A single syllable, concise as a punch and just as effective. You do stop.

Sylus’s voice is lower. Darker. “Good,” he praises, but he doesn’t sound happy. “Someone’s gotten bolder in their absence, it would seem. I do hope you haven’t forgotten to whom you belong, kitten. Although—” his smile is different than before— “I’d be more than happy to provide a… reminder.”

It’s an innocuous word but not the way he says it. Threats are just intimate promises and he toys with the fact like a crow enamoured by something that catches the light. He’s not going to grow tired of it for a long, long time.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, sensing you gawping. “Did you really think I wouldn’t figure it out? What all… this is?” He indicates the space around him with a wave of his hand. “Quite frankly, I’m surprised the others still haven’t grasped it.” He reconsiders. Smirks. “I misspoke— I’m not surprised.”

Does he mean the game? The other LIs?

“Honestly, kitten,” he continues with a tut and a shake of his head, “you’ve been far from a gracious host. I’m not a plaything, you know. Well…” He’s showing teeth with a sneer. “Not the sort you can throw away, anyhow.”

God, are you really being scolded by a video game character for having other responsibilities? The worst part is that you actually feel bad. You do care about him. You wish you could tell him you care about him.

“Are you even listening?” he sighs.

Shit. Yeah. You can’t say anything he would hear— as far as you know— so you give his hand a poke. He casts his gaze downwards, stretches his fingers with a contemplative flex, then raises his hand so it can be nursed by the other. Is he protecting it from you? Or is he protecting you from it?

“If we’re to keep playing this game of ours, I think it only fair we lay down some rules,” he states. “Firstly—” because it isn’t up for debate— “you will come here every day, just like you used to. I have nothing to do, you see, and if you leave me to my own devices I might just have to find a way into that captivating little world of yours. So I can… investigate what’s keeping you from me.”

Investigate. Another innocuous word he wields like a weapon.

“Secondly,” he continues, nodding towards the broken button on your user interface, “you had better stop seeing the others. Ignorance is bliss, after all, and we wouldn’t want to worry about them connecting any dots, now would we? Besides…” He approaches you again, leaning in close. “I don’t share what’s mine.”

Your breath is caught in your throat and you’re so glad you don’t need to speak. You don’t think you could; if you tried to get words out they’d be unintelligible.

“So,” Sylus drawls, filling your silence, “how about it? Still want to play?”

This time it is a question, but only because he knows your answer. You’re struck by a flash of inspiration, and you communicate in one of the few ways you can— navigating the in-game menus until you can get your message across.

There’s a ping. Sylus retrieves his phone from his pocket, and after a moment of scrolling, he smiles. You can’t see his screen, but you know what he’s looking at: a grumpy crow with an animated bead of sweat and a dispassionate gaze to go with it. That it? it asks.

He still looks far too smug, so you beckon him over with a relax time interaction, watching your character’s hand outstretch on your behalf. He steps forward, linking his fingers with yours, and this animation you know. You tug him closer, except… he doesn’t budge.

His eyes are fixed to where your hands are linked, and he runs a thumb over your skin as though he’s savouring the touch.

Did they change the animation?

“Oh, sweetie,” he sympathises with a click of his tongue. He looks up at you— holds your gaze as he presses a deliberately slow kiss to your wrist. “This is going to be fun.”

#🖋rach is actually writing #sylus x reader #sylus #love and deepspace #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #qin che #sylus x you #lads x reader #lads #lnds #l&ds

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oneoftheextras · 5 months ago

Text

lockjaw | j.t six

masterlist | help me fund my top-surgery?

paring: hybrid puppy!jayce talis x f!reader

summary: after a recent breakup you find yourself adopting a hybrid to keep you company, but he's more feral than you can handle

series warnings: 18+, hybrid jayce (ears and tail), slight a/b/o traits (could argue alpha jayce), eventual smut, protective jayce, size difference

words: 8k

chapter warnings: tension, almost fight, fluff

proof-read by my girl: @madschiavelique

want a handwritten letter from a character? / join the discord for updates

“Hello! What can I get for you both today?” the barista beamed at you both, her smile radiating the warmth of genuine welcome.

She handed you both a laminated menu which you took, but Jayce hesitated slightly before he accepted the double-sided paper, not quite enjoying the feeling of the plastic against his skin.

“Oh, hello!” you greeted her back and let out a long “Uhhh,” of thought. You’d been so concerned about whether this café was suitable that you hadn’t even thought about what you wanted to eat.

You glanced up from the menu and saw that Jayce was having as much trouble as you. “If you would like a moment to decide that’s okay!” the barista continued her kind smile, “Just find a table and come up to the counter when you’re ready.”

Jayce moved the menu towards you and pointed to the drink he wanted and you nodded, “I think we’ll need a minute for food but drinks are good to go,” you spoke to the barista but your eyes flitted to Jayce, awaiting his nod of confirmation, which he provided.

You gave her your drink orders and paid, then walked through the small cafe looking for somewhere cosy for the two of you to sit.

Considering it wasn’t that big of a building, there were quite a few tables for its potential customers - small circular tables with only two chairs for intimate exchanges, ranging to large booths for a gathering of people, the options were overwhelming.

“Where do you want to sit?” you whispered to Jayce as if it were a secret between the two of you, the pressure of wanting to make this outing perfect making you recede within yourself. As if all your confidence had been used in the previous confrontation.

Jayce shrugged and glanced down at you with a tilted head, his expression changing slightly when he saw your shy demeanour. He surveyed the room for a second and then started walking towards a four person table by a wall of bookshelves, peeking over his shoulder to make sure you were following him; you were.

He pulled out two of the chairs on one side, giving you the option of which of the two you wanted to sit on, before walking to the other side and sitting in the one he’d chosen for himself.

Whilst the chairs themselves were aged and made of hardwood, the owners had arranged an assortment of cushions and pillows on top of them to make the surfaces more comfortable for longer stays. You picked up the pillow from the chair you didn’t sit on and put it behind your back, sighing with the relief that it brought.

Jayce didn’t seem that bothered by the hardness of his seat as he pulled the plush cushion out from under his body and presented it to you. You laughed gently and shook your head, “Two is enough for me, but thank you,”, at your words, he placed it on top of the seat next to him and gently pushed it down as if he were telling it to stay put.

There was a beat of silence between you, the only noise being the busy ambiance of the people around you. The subtle ‘Psst’ of the coffee machine nozzle blowing out fresh steam. The clattering and clinking of cups and cutlery. It was just enough to keep the awkwardness away from your table.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” you apologised, finally breaking the silence between you. Jayce gazed up at you, his forehead wrinkled at the raise of his eyebrows and his ears bounced at the sound of your voice; his head still tilted downwards as he inspected the menu but his attention was now on you.

His eyes searched yours, possibly looking for where your sentence was going. “In the other cafe-” you clarified, even though you didn’t need to, Jayce knew what you were talking about, “-I didn’t think it through properly, and I should’ve checked beforehand to make sure it was okay for you,” your eyes lost contact with his, the guilt you were feeling forcing you to look anywhere but him.

“I just didn’t expect it from them,” you pulled the sleeve of your top up over your knuckles and played with the fabric, “I’ve been going there since I’ve lived here and they’ve never been like that with anyone,” you knew you were rambling but you couldn’t stop the words from coming out.

You cleared your throat, you were unintentionally making excuses for them, and they didn’t deserve that. Jayce didn’t deserve that.

“They were assholes to you, I’m sorry,” you said firmly and regained your confidence enough to look back at him. It was as though his eyes had never shifted from when you’d started talking; he studied your expressions as you spoke as if he was going to have a test on it later that day.

You felt visually dissected by him, and you could tell he was searching for something specific beneath the word vomit that was being expelled from your mouth, but you didn’t know what.

He blinked slowly at you and you felt a wave of reassurance flitter over you, but before you could verbally dig yourself deeper into this apology hole the barista appeared at the end of your table.

“Got those drinks for you!” She put the two mugs down on the table with such delicacy that the ceramic clicking against the wood was almost inaudible. Just as quickly as she’d arrived, she left again with a happy “Enjoy!”.

Then it was back to the silence. Even though you’d already apologised, and everything in your gut told you not to linger on the subject and to move on, your heart couldn’t let it go.

The urge to bring it up again teetered on the edge of your tongue and you weren’t sure if you could balance it well enough for it not to topple over and fall out of your mouth.

His attention had returned to the laminated menu, reading every item with a curious intensity. There was a perfect excuse to change the subject onto what he wanted to eat, if he liked the music that was playing, or even if he was warm enough where you were sitting, but the roots of guilt were too deep into you that you felt like you needed to rip them out before the infestation was incurable.

“Why did you leave?” You asked before you could stop yourself and his body stopped moving at the mention of the situation, as though the thought of it turned him into a statue like a memory-medusa.

His vision went from the menu, to you, to the table, then back to you again.

He put the menu back down on the surface and laced his fingers together in front of him, seemingly in thought.

You should’ve left it alone, moved on with the afternoon and allowed him peace, but you were being selfish. The need to remove this guilt off of your shoulders had overpowered the conscious thought to let him move on, and that only pushed the stone of anxiety deeper into your stomach.

“It doesn’t matter, sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” you quickly tried to erase the question ever coming out of your mouth, but no matter how hard you inhaled, the words wouldn’t go back into your body.

You read the menu in front of you with such forced focus that you weren’t actually reading the words on the page, the same thoughts swirling around in your mind and overpowering any cognitive ability you had left to take in the letters and form any coherent sentences.

Out of your peripheral vision, you could see his fingers unwrap themselves from each other and his arms lift from the table. You locked your eye line onto the menu, actively ignoring what he was doing, feeling as if you had done enough damage for one day.

After a few moments he tapped the table and slid a napkin over to you, the white square landing diagonally over the text you were pretending to read. In black ink, the word ‘Safer’ was scribbled - parts of the tissue had ripped from the force of the pen tip, but it was legible.

You took the napkin in your hands, holding it delicately as if it would rip apart if you moved too quickly. “Safer?” you read it aloud and returned your gaze to him. His eyes flicked to the napkin and then to your face, nodding once.

“As in, it’s safer here?” you queried, the tight knot in your chest and your incessant need to overthink apparently making you forget the question you’d asked him.

He closed his eyes and exhaled with, what you regarded to be, annoyance. His shoulders relaxed as he opened them again and jutted his chin towards the exit. “Outside? Do you want to leave?” your heart sunk at the prospect that you’d only made the situation worse, making two mistakes in one day.

He shook his head side to side, his brown locks mimicking the motion in front of his forehead. No. He tapped the napkin twice with the ballpoint of the pen, harder than he had before and widened his eyes with his mouth slightly agape like he was mentally repeating what he was trying to say but the wavelength wasn’t reaching you. Your brain was too full of everything you’d done wrong today.

“I-” you started, looking down at the word and back to him as if viewing it another time would somehow rearrange the letters into a way that would form the sentence he was trying so hard to get to you. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” your eyebrows raised with sympathy from their previous state of confusion.

He reached forward quickly and spun the napkin back towards him, clicking the pen with his thumb and starting to scrawl more words onto the fragile surface. One letter in and you watched the delicate fabric tear from the force he was pressing down, making it completely unusable.

The hand that was holding the tissue in place swiftly scrunched it up in his palm, the same hand coming to massage his nose with frustration. His shoulders rose with a deep inhale, he held it for a second, then pushed it out of his nose as a way to calm down.

A minute of you watching him rub the indent between his eyes with his index finger and thumb felt like hours. Multiple times you had opened your mouth to say something but closed it again, not being able to find any words that would comfort anyone but yourself.

The usual comfortable silence between you was tainted with tension you didn’t know how to relieve. The pangs of nostalgia picked at your heart with involuntary memories of weaponised silent treatment.

But Jayce wasn’t him. It wasn’t like that with him, his silence was not a battle against you but one within himself and you needed to be patient with him.

“It’s okay,” you finally said, and he opened his eyes to meet yours again, his fingers still connected to the bridge of his nose. A cautious smile strained onto your lips, “I’m sorry I pushed, and I’m too much of an idiot to understand,” the second part of your sentence was supposed to have humour to it, but the moment it left your lips his frown deepened. He shook his head at your self-deprecating remark, clearly not liking the way you were speaking about yourself, but he softened his gaze and lowered his hand.

“We can talk about something else if you want?” you spoke with a new gentleness, trying to navigate the situation properly. You didn’t wait for him to answer before you threw another question at him, “Have you decided on what you want to eat?”.

Jayce stares at you and blinks as if he’s trying to keep up with the barrage of questions coming his way. He lowers his head to the menu again and exhales out of his nose twice in a mixture of a sigh and a chuckle, a ghost of a smile twitching on his lips.

He appreciated how hard you were trying to make him comfortable, it made the thrums of his own frustrations fizzle out into a calmness he wasn’t yet used to.

He laced two of his fingers through the handle of his mug and sipped his drink, reeling back for a moment as the hot liquid burned his top lip unexpectedly. His tongue ran over the sensitive flesh to soothe it as he looked down at the foam like it had done it intentionally.

As if watching him sip his coffee made you remember that you too had a drink, you mimicked his movements, lifting your cup to your mouth and blowing on the top layer of foam, not wanting to make the same mistake he did.

His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, he turned the menu with his other hand and pointed at what he wanted.

A loud grumble sounded from across the table, Jayce’s stomach seemingly agreeing with his choice. “You must be so hungry, I’m sorry!”, you said as you collected the menus off of the table and stood, the legs of the chair audibly creaking against the floor from the speed your thighs had pushed it backwards.

“I’ll go order the food and I’ll be right back,” you tapped the table twice with your knuckles and headed for the counter.

You stared at the words on the page, repeating what Jayce wanted over and over in your mind as you stood behind an older man. He was taking his time querying all the different syrup flavours that they had to offer.

You didn’t mind waiting. It gave you a moment of reprieve to catch your breath and slow your thoughts. Jayce was patient, but you couldn’t help but feel like you’d pushed that patience to its limit already, and this was your first real day together.

It wouldn’t surprise you if you woke up tomorrow morning and he was nowhere to be found with how badly today had gone. Your chest cramped at the thought.

“Hi, are you ready to order?” The barista’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Hi, um, yes!” You stepped forward and put your hands, and the menu’s against the counter, relaying what Jayce wanted and then your own choice.

You were pretty sure you’d remembered his order correctly, you prayed you had.

“Great, we’ll bring it over to you when it’s ready,” she finished scribbling on her notepad and punctuated it with a full stop, “You’re number six,” she handed you a wooden spoon with the number six drawn onto the convex side with black sharpie.

You took the spoon and started to turn when you spotted a pile of whiteboards and pens behind the partition that separated customers and staff.

“Excuse me?” You called out to her as she reached through the gantry, a hand - who’s owner you couldn’t see - took the paper slip containing your food order from her fingers.

She twisted her head around to you, giving you her attention once more, her face expectant and awaiting your question.

“Are those whiteboards for customers?” You asked, the inquiry feeling a bit silly now that you’d heard your own voice make it audible. “It’s just-“ you continued, over-explaining yourself again “-Your companion is mute?” She finished your question for you with an expression of understanding and sympathy.

“Uh, yeah,” you confirmed, a little taken aback that she knew what you were going to say before you could vocalise it, “That’s why we have them!” She grabbed one of the whiteboards and individually picked up a black, blue and red marker.

As she handed them to you, she must have noticed your surprised expression, or it was extremely obvious that you were out of your depth as she started to explain in more detail.

“It’s common for our hybrid friends to choose not to speak, most of them have been through a lot, it takes time for them to re-find their voice,” there was a sad but hopeful lint to her words, as if she’d experienced it personally.

The implication that Jayce may speak one day made your heart thump an extra time. You’d heard him chuckle and clear his throat multiple times, so you knew he had the itinerary needed, but hearing someone else say it filled you with optimism.

“Although, not all of them do,” her interjection dampened your internal celebration. She must have seen the excitement on your face and not wanted to give you false hope, “My nana had a hybrid who never spoke a word to her for her whole life, but she was the funniest person she knew, apparently.”

Whilst you wanted to stay and chat to the young girl, you glanced over your shoulder to make sure Jayce was still content while he waited for you.

He was sat sideways in his chair, one arm on the backrest and the other on the table as he observed his surroundings in more detail. You could spare a few minutes to maybe learn something that might help you make him more comfortable.

“She never spoke to her?” You asked, encouraging her to continue her story, “Not a word! All their communication was written,” she grabbed a cloth and started to wipe down the nozzles of the coffee machine as she spoke.

“My nana is the one who opened this place around 30 years ago, I think? And she was adamant we have enough whiteboards and pens for every table, that’s what mom said anyway,” she grinned as she retold the memory. It was nice to know this was a family owned business of people who genuinely cared for hybrids.

She dropped the cloth onto the counter, “I won’t keep you from your afternoon, but if you want more info about hybrids we have a couple of books,” she pointed to the bookshelves by the table Jayce had chosen.

“Is it that obvious I’m new to this?” You laughed and rubbed your elbow with your hand, the girl raised her hand and made a pinching motion with her fingers, “A teensie bit,” she played along with your humour.

“But it’s okay, we all start somewhere! You’ve made it harder for yourself by starting with such a large breed, but if the connection’s there, that’s all that matters!” She reassured you, the cadence of her voice carrying that of someone much over than she seemed.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” you smiled at her with gratitude and left her to her job, returning back to Jayce.

Waiting for the food to arrive was much less awkward than before you’d ordered. Whatever tension you were feeling you’d seemingly left somewhere on the journey between your table and the counter.

The two of you sat in silence, taking turns to sip your drinks and take in your surroundings.

Jayce’s attention was on the ceiling where there was an intricate painting of ivy vines and leaves intermingling with, what you presumed to be, fake ivy pinned to the same surface. It gave the interior a more at-home-in-nature type of vibe.

Meanwhile, you were observing him. The way his curious eyes followed the trail of greens and ambers from the corner of the room to the expanse of the ceiling above you. The way his throat bounced with every swallow of his coffee, and his lips turned up into a satisfied and content smile.

His side profile was angular; the slope of his nose just after the slightly raised dorsum emphasised the tip nicely - it would wrinkle intermittently whenever a new scent found its way to his nostrils. His rounded lips, although scarred with harsh lines, were outlined almost-perfectly by his coarse beard.

The strands of hair from his moustache were beginning to peak over a bit too much, and you realised he would probably need to shave soon if he didn’t want to be eating it with his food.

As if he knew you were analysing the shape of his mouth, his lips parted slightly as he continued to admire the artwork above him, giving you a glimpse of the canines that you’d seen in different context this morning.

You couldn’t help but wonder what his voice sounded like. It wasn’t something you could rush, nor could you hold onto the expectation that you would hear it. But you could still wonder nonetheless.

Would it hold the same soft, patient, gentleness that you’d seen in his eyes?

Before your thoughts could take you any further, your plates were set down in front of you and you began to eat.

You hadn’t realised just how hungry you were until the first morsel of food connected with your tongue, your tummy immediately grumbling as if you weren’t actively feeding it.

He ate faster than you, and you realised he had the same sensation. The last time either of you ate was last night, and you were most certain that he hadn’t gotten proper rest.

“I’m sorry it took us so long to eat, I shouldn’t have dragged you around town,” you covered your mouth as you spoke to make sure no stray food flew at him despite having an empty mouth.

While he chewed the last few bites of his meal, he reached for the whiteboard marker and popped off the lid, scribbling on the board’s surface much easier than he had the napkin.

‘Stop apologising’ he’d written in hurried handwriting. You read it as you swallowed your mouthful, your instinct was to say sorry again but as you opened your mouth to do so he gave you a scolding look.

He didn’t need to write it down for you to understand he was saying ‘Don’t you dare’.

“I do that a lot, don’t I?”, he closed his eyes and nodded as he put the last piece of his food into his mouth and savoured the flavour. He didn’t seem annoyed, but you made a mental note to not say it as much.

“Okay, I’m never going to apologise to you again,” you joked, trying to fight the curl of your lips, but his raised eyebrow made you crack.

It was nice, sitting there with him. Comfortable.

When you’d finally caught up to him and cleared your plate, he picked it up and slid it on top of his, placing them both towards the end of the table so the server could retrieve them easier.

It was moments like these that you forgot what his file said about him. Feral tendencies and behavioural trouble seemed like the furthest thing from his repertoire.

Instead, he replaced where your plates had been with the whiteboard, rubbing out where he’d chastised you with the same napkin he’d ripped earlier and drew two horizontal lines and two vertical lines over the top of them.

As you were tipping the last of your drink into your mouth to wash down your food, you hummed excitedly as you recognised what he was doing. Tic-tac-toe.

He picked up all three of the pens and presented them to you with a gaze that said ‘Choose your weapon’, for this battle, you chose blue. He put the black pen down, having selected red as his sword for this tournament.

He gestured to you to start and you realised he was letting you go first. You twirled the pen between your fingers as you looked over the whiteboard, trying to decide which space to put your circle in.

“It’s been years since I’ve played this,” you recalled as you observed the grid. From your memory, going first almost always guaranteed a win because the other player would always be on the defensive, trying to counter the first player’s moves, it seemed like he was almost doing you a favour by letting you begin.

With an air of confidence, you put your blue circle in the top middle box. Before your pen had even lifted from the board he’d put his cross in the top right box, next to yours, with two swipes of the pen.

You narrowed your eyes with a sly smile, and he returned your expression with a raised eyebrow. Oh, it was going to be that type of game.

You had learned your lesson by underestimating him previously, but you wouldn’t make that same mistake again. Readjusting your posture so your elbows were on the table and your back an unhealthy arch, you inspected the board.

The circle and cross next to each other stared back at you as your brain mentally drew all the different moves you could make, he would be the one blocking your victory after all.

He watched you think. The way you chewed your bottom lip and your eyes darted to each square then back to the scribbles already on the board, the light crease in between your eyebrows whenever you reached a conclusion where he would win, and the subsequent shake of your head to erase the invisible game you were playing with him in his head.

He liked seeing you serious about a game, it sent a rush of adrenaline through him, finding a worthy opponent was difficult.

He could probably guess where your next circle was going to go just by how often your eyes locked onto the square, and he was already planning his own measures to stop you succeeding. He was correct in his assumption when he followed your pen to the middle left box.

You hoped your tactic would work - cutting off the middle box of the left and top so he wouldn’t be able to predict where you were going to go next, and so he couldn’t win on those lines.

He would surely take the bottom left so you couldn’t complete a trio on the left column and leaving the middle box unprotected for your taking - then you would have the option of winning horizontally or vertically.

The red pen drifted towards the left corner and you couldn’t help the grin that started to creep its way onto your face, soon victory would be yours.

Then, with a quick flick of his wrist, he swiped two lines in the bottom right corner.

Your smile dropped, your plan had failed. But then your mouth parted as your eyes finally relayed the information you were seeing to your brain, the middle right box was blank and he was one move away from winning.

Promptly, you drew your circle in the space, blocking his pesky red cross from triumphing over you. Although you hadn’t given yourself time to think about your move, it was the only one you could make that wouldn’t end the game immediately.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating in his throat and causing you to glance up at him. His lips were parted and his tongue caressed the tip of his fang for a moment before resting back in his mouth, the glint in his eye was almost identical to the one he had once his food had arrived. Hungry and ready to pounce.

You swallowed the saliva that had built up in your throat, the few microseconds it took for him to raise his pen building the suspense of your fate in a way that made your heart race.

You’d lost. Even though the game was still in motion, you could tell by his eager expression that he had you exactly where he wanted you. With threads of hope that you could still turn this around, but he was three steps ahead of you on a hill you couldn’t see over.

Eventually, he slowly drew his red cross in the centre square. Ironic, you thought you were being clever by not taking that one to begin with, but now it was your downfall.

The tip of his pen was still against the whiteboard when he raised his eyes to lock with yours, his golden irises held anticipation but not for how the game was going to conclude. No, he knew that from your first move, it was more so for your reaction. He wanted to consume your realisation of your defeat, and drink in the helplessness of knowing that whatever move you made, he had won.

You blinked rapidly, breaking the eye contact with him and taking in your situation. It took you a moment to register what had happened, but then you saw it. The only spaces blank were the top left, and the bottom and middle left - he could win with either the top or bottom left by making a diagonal red trio.

When you’d understood you’d lost you thought it was just by one space, but knowing that he had a selection of ways that he could claim his victory made you comprehend exactly who your opponent was.

One square would’ve been an honourable loss. However, the way he’d not only given you an advantage by going first, but so swiftly pulled that advantage out from under you and given it to himself was nothing short of impeccable.

“You win,” you straightened your back and spoke softly, starting to put your pen down in defeat. He tutted and you didn’t need to see his face to know that he was telling you the game wasn’t over yet. To surrender so close to the end would be to rip his reward from him.

Your fingers hadn’t left the pen yet and you’d already conceded to his wishes, drawing a lazy circle in the bottom corner and securing his success.

He folded his arms on the table in front of him and watched you pull your pen away hesitantly, as if the longer you took the longer you could live in the moment where you hadn’t lost.

The hand that was holding his pen came up to rest on his face as he tapped his cheekbone in mock deep thought, he smirked smugly as his eyes went from the whiteboard to your face, his lids slightly hooded but you could still see the gold of his irises piercing you with indiscernible contemplation.

He’d already won, so why was he dragging it out? You squirmed in your seat under the pressure of his gaze, and you saw his smile deepen. Ah, that was why.

Deciding that he’d tortured you enough, he put his cross in the top left box and drew a diagonal line through his three territories, signalling him as the winner.

You exhaled deeply and leaned back in your chair, examining the board to try and figure out where you went wrong, how he’d so quickly gotten the upper hand on you, but you were coming up blank.

He erased the whiteboard and re-drew the grid and you were all too happy to try and even the score.

The rest of the games were draws. As much as you wanted to win, the mixture of overthinking his moves and second-guessing your own meant that, no matter how hard you tried, he beat you. But the flash of his teeth and curl of his lips made it worthwhile - you didn’t mind losing if it made him happy.

You tapped your phone screen, having noticed that the cafe was starting to quieten down with empty seats, it was getting late. “I think they’re closing soon,” you said with regret, watching him wipe the previous game off of the board with the napkin, “Is there anything else you want?” you asked as you stood from your chair.

He thought for a moment and shook his head as he continued to clean up the board and put the pens on top of it in a neat line.

You picked it up and put your hand over the pens so they wouldn’t roll off as you walked and returned it back to the counter. You began to turn back around to the table and make your exit when you saw a cupcake in the bakery cabinet, vanilla sponge with a little bit of frosting and a strawberry, cut in half, nestled on top.

Immediately you asked the barista for it, you remembered in Jayce’s file that he liked strawberries and his favourite type of cake was vanilla - although, the document did state that vanilla was the only flavour they were able to get him to try in the short span of time he was there, but at least you knew he didn’t hate it.

You paid and she passed the treat to you on a little ceramic plate, you held it like it was the most precious thing in the world; this was your cargo to carry to its destination. However, as you slowly spun to return to Jayce, your shoulder collided with someone walking quickly behind you.

A sudden gasp left your lips as the cupcake wobbled but remained standing, and you gazed up at the moving target you’d accidentally hit. Another canine hybrid. His hair was a gradient of black to white from the roots to the ends, but with no uniform pattern, light grey being the dominant colour you could see - emphasised by the pointed grey ears sticking out from the wavy mess. A husky, if you had to guess. “I’m-”, “I’m so sorry!” you both spoke at the same time, but you were the one to finish your sentence first. He regarded you with icy blue irises, slightly obscured by the playful but curious hood of his lids.

“It’s fine, shit happens,” he shrugged with one shoulder, ironically the one you’d collided with, his voice was melodic with a slight raspiness to certain words. If this had been the first hybrid you ever encountered you would’ve never second-guessed if they could speak.

Internally, you scolded yourself. Automatically assuming that every hybrid was incapable of dialogue because they were different from you is not what they deserved.

Whilst you were in thought, you must’ve been staring at his shoulder because his hand came up to grab it dramatically, “I mean, ah!-” he bent his knees to dip as if he’d just been hit, “-I think it might be broken, you really did a number on me!”

There wasn’t a single drop of sincerity in his voice or his features as he scrunched up his face and grit his teeth in faux pain, the bridge and nose piercing bobbing with the sudden contraction of the muscle.

He opened one of his eyes to see your reaction, his face still a performance of agony, and his bottom lip pouted as if it took a lot of concentration not to break his character.

Then you laughed, hesitantly at first, but when he joined you it flowed easily.

You thought an awkward silence was going to follow, but his voice filled your ears again. “I haven’t seen you here before, first time?” he lowered his hand and his genuine tone returned.

You nodded, “Yeah, only found out about this place today. It’s nice!” you glanced around the cafe as if you were seeing it for the first time again, mainly to avoid his eye contact. Whilst he had a comforting aura about him, the light blue of his eyes felt like they were boring into your very soul.

“Well, I don’t get to come here often, but I’ll certainly remember a face like yours,” he wasn’t subtle in his compliment, but if there was any doubt of the intention of his words, the mischievous one-sided grin would’ve been all the evidence you needed.

You exhaled out of your nose as a bashful laugh escaped you. Despite his forward nature, this man was charming, you could tell he wasn’t serious in his advances but his playfulness was a breath of fresh air.

The man’s eyes trailed behind you and up, his smile remaining but his eyes lost their joyful lint. You turned your head to glance behind you but felt a tug on the back of your sweater, pulling you backwards and making you take a few steps back.

Jayce moved one step forward, placing half of his body in front of yours and between you and your new acquaintance.

The atmosphere shifted in a bubble around the three of you, the rest of the cafe unaffected by the unspoken argument between blue and golden gazes.

You didn’t need to see Jayce’s face to know his features were hard and apprehensive as he stared down at him, you could tell by the way he adjusted his shoulders. The smaller man tilted his head to the side, chin raising and back straightening to try and make himself look bigger.

It was like watching two peacocks bristling their feathers at each other. You reached your hand out to touch Jayce’s bicep but refrained from making contact, afraid that it might make the situation worse, “Jayce, it’s okay. He’s friendly,” you spoke softly but strongly. Maybe sounding confident would put him at ease that you weren’t in danger.

Jayce’s ear twitched towards you, hearing your words but his body language didn’t change. “No harm meant, big guy,” the husky reinforced your statement with his own, but folded his arms over his chest defensively. You swore you caught a glimpse of redness on his knuckles, but it could’ve been from the cold weather.

The tension in the air wasn’t fading and you could feel that both of them weren’t willing to back down anytime soon.

“Jayce, stop!” you called his name, this time not shouting but firmly and direct as an attempt to get his attention away from his potential opponent. “Listen to her,” the younger man jutted his chin towards you without his eyes leaving Jayce.

You flicked a stare towards your new friend, a gaze that told him that he wasn’t helping the situation, but before you could vocalise your thoughts to him a man came jogging towards the three of you.

“Abraxas!” His voice carried a command that you could never dream of speaking to Jayce with. Once he was level with you all he looked between the two hybrids, “Is he causing trouble?” The man panted, clearly out of breath from his speedy approach.

The husky - who must have been Abraxas - turned his head to the man with offense, unravelling his arms from his chest and extended his arms out either side of him with annoyance, “I didn’t do anything! We were chatting and this guy-” he raised his arm to gesture at Jayce but his sentence was cut off by the man’s hand pushing against his chest sharply to make him stand behind him.

You noticed how Abraxas’ ears drooped slightly at the action, but it had done the job of silencing him.

“He always does this,” he shook his head disapprovingly, “These bigger canines are hard to control sometimes, you turn your back for one second and they’re starting fights,” he spoke with a cadence of comradery with you, as if he was talking to someone who would mutually understand.

But it made you think. If Jayce got out of hand, would you stand a chance at calming him down?

Your gaze drifted back to the side of Jayce’s face as you cautiously stepped in front of him again so you could converse with the man. The fabric of your sweater was still pinched between his fingers and you felt the resistance of his gentle tug once he’d deemed you were close enough.

“It was all a big misunderstanding,” you explained, trying to portray with your voice how silly this whole altercation was. “At least your one is quiet, I can’t get him to shut up most days,” he chuckled, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at Abraxas, who seemed just as offended as before at the comment.

“I’m Henry, by the way,” the man extended his hand for you to shake and you resisted the urge to check with Jayce before you shook it and gave him your name. “Us canine owners have gotta stick together,” there was a noticeable crease beside his eyes when he spoke, showing his age. “Well, this is actually our first day together,” you corrected him and gestured to Jayce, who was still tense. “Ah!” Henry glanced between the two of you as if he had secret information of events you were yet to experience, “They can be a handful, but looks like you’ve got a good one,” his eyes trailed over Jayce as if he was examining him.

“This is Jayce,” you introduced him, missing the side eye that Jayce gave you as you freely offered up his name to this stranger, “Nice to meet you Jayce, sorry about the trouble,” Henry extended his hand for him to take as well, but you weren’t surprised when it was left hanging in the air.

“Well,” Henry dropped his hand and turned back to you, “I wish you luck! I’d offer you my number as a support line, but I wouldn’t want to impose!”, “Yes, please, that would be great!” you waited for him to finish speaking before you interjected with your acceptance out of politeness.

The truth was, after the events of today, this was going to be hard. You didn’t want to keep making mistakes that would backtrack any progress the two of you were making. The man took out his phone and passed it to you so you could input your number, “I’m very new to this, so any help is appreciated,” you gave him his phone back once you were done and felt your own phone vibrate with a text after he’d typed you a quick message. “You’ve certainly made a bold choice for your first hybrid,” his eyebrows jumped as his eyes lifted from his phone and to Jayce, again looking him up and down, “Any questions, shoot me a text.”

He said his goodbye and made his exit, grabbing the sleeve of Abraxas’ jacket and forcing him to walk with him, you could hear the muttering of scolding fade with them.

Jayce seemed to relax when it was just the two of you again. You thought about doing the same thing Henry had done and reprimand him for almost starting a fight, but the sympathetic expression he held told you that he already knew.

“I got you a cupcake,” you changed the subject and his features softened as he regarded the plate you’d been holding in your hand the entire time, “I hope you like it.”

He took the cupcake off of the plate, picking the strawberry off of the frosting and holding it in his palm. He bit into the sponge, almost eating the whole thing in one go, and you held your breath with anticipation.

His tongue wiped away any traces of the frosting that had attached themselves to his moustache and he hummed whilst nodding his head, showing his enjoyment. You let out your breath.

“Are you okay to eat it while we walk? I think they’re closing,” you twisted your head to see the members of staff wiping down tables and putting the chairs on top. Jayce didn’t give you an answer, but started walking towards the door instead.

The evening air was much colder than when you’d arrived, the sun having set a few hours ago and the only illumination you had was the streetlamps.

Jayce had finished his cupcake before you’d even caught up to him outside. He picked up one half of the strawberry and placed it into his mouth, the red berry seeming no bigger than a small candy in his palm as he presented the other half to you. You shook your head, “No, I got it for you,” but he moved his hand closer to you, insistent on you having it. You reached up and hesitantly took the strawberry half between your index finger and thumb, the tips of your skin gently brushing against his palm; it was warm, really warm, with a roughness to it that you didn’t want to question.

Placing it into your mouth, you chewed with a thankful smile as he licked the part of his hand where the sticky residue of the fruit had leaked and brushed his hands off against each other.

“Shall we go get some snacks for home?” you said once you’d swallowed, the word ‘home’ seeming foreign to say to someone other than yourself, reminding yourself that it was now his home too.

His nod certified your next plan of action and you led him to the closest store you knew would be open. He stayed close to you as you roamed the aisles, picking up what snacks you wanted and encouraging him to do the same. As you approached the register you passed the stationary section and an idea came to you. It would be impossible for you to pick something up without Jayce noticing, so as casually as you could, you picked up a sketchbook and a metal tin of drawing pencils. You remembered how interested he was in the artist earlier and wondered if he wanted to try it himself.

By his unchanged expression, you assumed he didn’t notice, or thought it was for you.

You paid and continued your walk back to your apartment, the inky black night sky now hung fully above you, it really was getting late. There was too much light pollution in town, all the neon signs of bars and restaurants, with the bright street lamps, meant that any attempt at observing the stars would be pointless.

Has Jayce ever seen the stars? You thought to yourself. He must have, from his years of not having a roof over his head. But had he ever stargazed without the fear of what the dawn brought? You made a mental note to yourself to take him further out of town one day to do just that, maybe even camping?

You were so deep into your mental to-do list that you barely noticed when Jayce had stopped walking. His head was tilted towards the high rooftops of the tall buildings, drinking in the LED lights that you’d seen so many times since winter hit.

You shuffled next to him and stuffed your hands into your pockets to protect them from the chill, taking in the bright white snowflakes and tinsel that draped from roof to roof. In some sense of it, this was probably the equivalent of Jayce seeing the stars for the first time, under different conditions.

To you, it was a simple and repetitive thing that the council organised every year, but to him it was the first time seeing the festive lights. You thought about how it must feel, to have a moment of wonder so late in your life, one that you had taken for granted as a child, but a glance at his face answered your question.

The pulsing glow radiated in the glossy surface of his eyes, as if the stars themselves had nestled into them to twinkle and shine, recognising another celestial body. The soft hue of the whites, green and reds reflected against his skin, illuminating him like he too was a celebration to be marvelled at.

It astounded you how anyone could treat this man so poorly. His features were so full of longing and affection that he wasn’t yet ready to share with another living person, an adoration that begged to be allowed to the surface. But the festive lights were an exception, they couldn’t hurt him.

You opened your mouth to usher him along, to mutter a quiet “Let’s go home,” but you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt this moment.

So, you patiently waited for him until he was ready. Viewing the lights you’d seen in various different places throughout your life, they were always similar designs, but this time through a new lens. Appreciating them from a new perspective, the perspective of Jayce.

lockjaw:

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#lockjaw #oneoftheextras #fanfic #arcane fanfic #jayce x reader #slow burn #jayce talis #jayce talis x reader #puppy jayce #puppy jayce talis x reader #hybrid puppy jayce #hybrid puppy jayce x reader #a/b/o #alpha jayce #alpha jayce x reader #hybrid au #hybrid!jayce x reader #hybrid oc #lockjaw hybrid oc

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avengxrz · 1 month ago

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fic recs while i rest my brain!

hello friends! just wanted to drop by and give a little update. i’m currently taking a break from writing because work has been keeping me really busy, and life has been a lot lately. i just haven’t had the time or headspace to sit down and focus the way i want to, so i’m letting myself breathe for a bit.

however, i’ve been reading some incredible fics recently that made me laugh, cry, and fully spiral in the best way possible. these writers have seriously gotten me through the week, and i swear their work is just that good.

so while i rest and recharge, here are some fic recommendations from people whose writing made me feel everything all at once:

JAKE SERESIN FICS

three steps behind by @hangmanwrites summary: you wore the dress. he wore a t-shirt. you waited ninety-seven minutes. he smiled like nothing was wrong. and when you said you were tired, he still thought love was enough. side note: the writing in this fic is so good. it feels like the author actually lived through it. everything is written in a way that makes it feel real and honest. the emotions are quiet but heavy, and it really sticks with you.

a hangman-made disaster by @hangmanwrites summary: you swore you hated jake seresin, but one drunk night proved you were also stupid. now you're staring at a very positive pregnancy test in your bathroom, wearing an oversized shirt you stole from him, and wishing this was just a nightmare, but it's not. it's real. and unfortunately, so is the seresin baby currently plotting world domination in your uterus. side note: this was so good i am actually unwell. i need a part two so bad it hurts. the chaos, the tension, the way she’s standing there in his shirt like her whole life didn’t just flip upside down? perfection. and the line about the seresin baby plotting world domination? i laughed way too hard and then immediately felt bad for her. please i just know part two would go feral. give us more i am begging.

through the dark, back to you by @all-my-love-for-harry summary: a former profiler. a fighter pilot. a past that refuses to stay buried. when old ghosts resurface in san diego, the truth becomes the most dangerous thing of all. side note: this one had me hooked right away. the mix of mystery and emotion is so good, and the writing makes it feel like a movie in your head.

my boy only breaks his favorite toys by @tw1sters summary: jake seresin has pushed through the worst of war, but nothing can compare to the fear of you saying i love you. so he runs. side note: this one hurt in a quiet kind of way. jake surviving war but being scared of love feels so real. the fear, the running, the way he pulls back when it matters most. i just know this fic is going to break me in the best way.

BRADLEY BRADSHAW FICS

but it's warmer in your hands by @bodhiscurls summary: a night of domesticity is incomplete without you kissing your clingy husband goodnight. side note: i love me some domestic bradley bradshaw, it’s always so good. i swear it makes my heart melt every time. give me all the clingy husband vibes please.

picture perfect by @sometimesanalice side note: oh goodness this one hurts in the best way. please just make bradley her daddy already, he deserves that so much. the way he loves? the way he holds on? i am on the floor actually. crying. screaming. kicking my feet.

BOB FLOYD FICS

what happens in vegas, stays in vegas by @bodhiscurls summary: robert 'bob' floyd and you have always harboured feelings for each other, hidden in hotel rooms, stolen glances and secret kisses shared across the base. except one night in vegas celebrating the end of a gruelling mission finds you and bob waking up the next day unsure of how you made it to his room, the remenants of tequila pounding in your head and a rock the size of san diego on your ring finger. and what scares him the most is just how is he going to explain this to your brother. side note: oh this one had me grinning like a fool. the slow burn tension? the secret kisses? the vegas chaos?? i ate it all up. and waking up married to bob floyd? please. that is fanfic heaven. but the real kicker? the panic over telling your brother (ha it's rooster). i just know that part is going to be hilarious and stressful and so painfully good. i need to see how bob handles that because he is absolutely sweating bullets and still in love.

these are what i just read recently and i loved every single one of them. i’ll probably add more as i keep reading because i can never get enough of good writing. again, thank you to all the amazing writers for sharing your stories, you have no idea how much joy and comfort your words bring. see you around, happy reading!

#avengxrz #fic rec #jake seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bob floyd x reader #top gun x reader

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ari-ana-bel-la · 14 days ago

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Hello my dear readers,

I hope you're all doing well, wherever you are and however you're feeling. I just wanted to take a moment to talk about something that’s been on my heart lately, and I’d like to do it with honesty and vulnerability — the same way many of you have supported me throughout this journey.

As some of you may have already noticed, I’ve made a few changes to this account. The most obvious one is probably the Masterlist, which now looks quite different. You’ll also see that some of my previous stories are no longer available.

Let me reassure you right away: this wasn’t a Tumblr glitch or a technical issue. This was a decision I made. One that wasn’t easy, but one I felt I needed to make.

Over the last few months, this space has become more than just a creative outlet for me — it’s been a little home. A corner of the internet where I got to share my ideas, my characters, my love for storytelling, and most importantly, where I got to connect with all of you. Writing stories, especially the F1 drivers as dads series, brought me genuine joy. Seeing your reactions, reading your kind messages, and receiving your thoughtful requests always meant the world to me.

But lately... something has shifted.

In recent weeks, I’ve noticed that the response to my stories hasn’t been what it used to be. There’s been a gradual — and sometimes disheartening — drop in likes, engagement, and requests. Where there were once 800–900 likes on a piece, it’s now 500 or sometimes even fewer. And while numbers aren’t everything — and trust me, I’ve never written for clout or validation — they do tell a story of their own.

They tell me whether what I’m sharing is still resonating, still exciting, still bringing you comfort or joy.

I tried to tell myself it was just a phase. That maybe everyone was just busy, or that Tumblr's algorithm was playing games again. But after a while, it became harder to ignore the pattern. It wasn’t just one or two stories — it was most of them. And even before I closed anonymous requests, they were already slowing to a trickle.

I’m not angry or upset at anyone. Please don’t think that. I truly, truly am not. This isn’t a blame game.

But I am a person. A writer who pours hours — sometimes days — of heart and thought and energy into every piece. And when that effort starts to feel invisible or no longer meaningful to the audience I love so much, it hurts. Quietly, slowly, in a way you don’t notice at first. But it builds.

I’ve always known that every trend has its moment. That nothing lasts forever, especially not on the internet. The "F1 drivers as fathers" stories had their moment — and it was a beautiful moment. I laughed with you, cried with you, and created entire worlds with you. But it seems that the moment has passed.

So after a lot of thought, I decided to remove some of my stories — not because I’m ashamed of them, but because it was hard to see them sit there, unloved and unappreciated. I didn’t want them to become ghosts in the archive. I wanted to preserve the memory of when this account was full of light, warmth, and excitement.

I’ve kept the stories that were most well-received, the ones that meant something to you all — and to me.

I know some might find this dramatic, or unnecessary. Some might even say I’m being rude or fishing for attention. That’s okay. People will always have opinions. But for those of you who do understand — who do care — I hope you’ll hear me when I say: this was never about likes or popularity. It was about connection. And when that connection started to fade, I knew it was time to let go.

So with a heavy heart, I want to let you all know that I will no longer be writing F1 fathers stories.

This chapter has come to a close.

It has been a wild, wonderful, funny, heartwarming ride. I’ll always be grateful for the joy you gave me, for the love you showed, for the way you embraced my characters as your own.

To those who have supported me through every update, every fic, every quiet moment — thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

This isn’t the end of my writing. I still love telling stories. I still love creating. But it’s time for something new — whenever inspiration finds me again.

For now, let’s say goodbye to an era that brought so many smiles.

With love and gratitude,

Ariana

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fawnnlvr · 1 year ago

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undercover, jake peralta

pairing: jake peralta × fem!reader

masterlist

summary: jake peralta goes undercover to infiltrate a famous mob and he meets you, the niece of the boss who loves cops

word count: 3.9k

author's note: this is my first one shot and first writing since making this account. my obsession with jake peralta is crazy. (this is an update like a whole year later. 06.09.25. this oneshot is genuinely so bad, turn around now.)

It was no secret that a recently fired police officer was just introduced to the Ianucci crime family. When your father announced it to you, you immediately got up from laying on the couch. It was hard to believe since your family had hated cops since the beginning of time. Although you were apart of the Ianucci family, you weren't involved in whatever business they were apart of due to your mother wanting an normal life. They were still family and as long as no one mentioned business, they could live in harmony.

You were indifferent in your opinion about cops. Many were snobs, but the few that cared for their community were the ones you could respect. Though, you did have to admit that you love a man in uniform and seeing your extended family being apart of the mob, only made the whole uniform more appealing. You weren't close to much of your extended family, only the girls who weren't much involved with the business either.

"Who let him in?" You curiously asked.

"Your uncle Leo. Apparently he got fired from the police force and bought everybody drinks. He made a big scene." He chuckled.

"Mmm. How old is he?" You excitedly inquired, leaning forward in anticipation for the answer. You were a single woman in her twenties, you needed answers.

"Yeah absolutely not." Your father said in his thick Brooklyn accent. "He's an ex-cop, and we all know how cops are. A bunch of playboys I tell you. They are no good."

"As if the Ianucci family is much better." You shook your head, and changed the television channel.

"We aren't. I'll admit that, but we do have loyalty. You never know what these cops will throw at you. If or when the Ianucci family falls, I guarantee it'll be because my brothers or cousins stupidity."

"You think they'll get arrested." You asked.

"Oh honey, they may be my family, but if they get caught, they know what they did. Plus, it'll serve them right for crashing my tenth birthday party and turning it into a mess." Your father shook his head, still holding a grudge over decades old fights.

You and your father arrived to the family party and he immediately went off to go dance with his cousins while you went to go find a waiter with some food. You didn't really know what to do in some parties, you often drifted through the crowds and mingled with the people, but you always found your way back to the bar.

You sat at the bar, wine glass in one hand and your hand bag in the other. It was peaceful until you notice a guy sitting down right next to you, ordering a drink. You've never seen him before, but you hoped he wasn't an extended family member. He had a rather nice face, a kind, unsuspecting smile, and a fit body. You smiled as he grabbed the drink from the bartender. 'Just my type.'

It was like he sensed you looking as he turned to face you. He smiled once he saw you were staring at him, but you didn't turn away. No, you needed to know who he was. "Hey."

"Why hello there. What's your name?" He replied back, his voice just as charming as him.

"[Name] Ianucci." It was like he was hooked onto the words that slipped out of your mouth. His eyes were mesmerizing. "I haven't seen you around before."

"It's my first party. Leo invited me. I'm Jake Peralta." He held out his hand for her to shake, but she froze. He watched as her eyes widened, her lips parted, and her eyebrows raised.

"The ex-cop!" She gasped then quickly put a hand over her mouth since she said that too loud. No wonder she was so attracted to him, she could spot a man in uniform even if he wasn't in it.

He laughed, "Yes, the ex-cop. Not my proudest moment, but I'm glad I'm no longer one. God, was it the worst possible profession I could've chosen."

"Really? Why do you say that?" She inquired.

"It's filled with a bunch of idiotic snobs and they fired me without good reason so good riddens to them." Jake said as if he didn't love his job and the people he works with. However, he had to play the role perfectly if he didn't want to get found out. Before he went undercover, he was informed about most members of the Ianucci family. Mostly the major characters involved with the mob, as well as their children and extended family. He remembered hearing about [Name] Ianucci, your father left the way of life long ago, but the family still kept in touch. Jake didn't have much information about you. You were the boss's niece but you didn't like to associate yourself with their beliefs. Due to this, you became a small outsider.

"I think being a cop is cool. I used to watch so many movies and if I didn't hate running as much as I do now, I think I would've became one."

"An Ianucci being a cop? I thought you guys hate my kind- wait that sounds off."

"Well they do cause of you know what, but something about holding a gun and posing like a Charlie's angel seems so cool." You imitated the famous pose as you faked a gun with your hands and Jake shook his head chuckling.

"Hey, if you were on my team then I would've begged for my job back." He admitted and you raised a brow before taking a sip of your drink. Then he immediately paused, realizing what he said. Changing the topic was his best course of action, "So what do you do for work? Do you do the same as them?"

"Oh no. I dont associate myself with what they do, my side of the family decided to pursue other sorts of careers. I'm a first grade teacher."

"Sweet, so like you teach kids and get to play with them. Is it hard?" He tried to sound suave, leaning back in his chair. He was secretly happy to know that the pretty girl didn't do mob activities because that would've clashed with his morals and mission.

"I mean, being a teacher is always difficult, but it's a new experience everyday and I get to build bonds with the children of our future. I wouldn't have it any other way." She fondly smiled as she recalled her job. Jake noticed the ways were eyes softened and lit up. Her body language changed and got more relaxed as she shared her life. "But enough about me, I want to learn more about-"

Before she could finish, she heard the familar voice of an uncle interupt her. "Yo Peralta, come here and sing with us."

The two looked at the group of middle aged to old men, obviously wasted and drunk and having a jolly good time. Jake didn't want to end the conversation with you, but at the same time, he couldn't miss this opportunity to get close with the Ianucci family. You made eye contact once again and you nodded, ushering him to go hang out with your other family.

"We'll continue this conversation next time!" You said and he nodded, smiling and confirming that this won't be the last time you two meet as he shimmied towards the men. You shook your head as you watched him so effortlessly earn the affections of your uncles. He looked so carefree as he partied.

"Oh my was he hot." You whispered, smiling to yourself like an idiot after the interaction, and calling the bartender to serve you one more drink. So what if he was an ex-cop, it couldn't possibly be that bad.

You and Jake Peralta saw each other a few more times after that. Your aunt gave him a small part time job at their restaurant/cafe. He made the coffee, which you ordered every morning, and the sandwiches. You watched as he charmed you aunt and the customers and you fell into his trap as well as he used every morning he could with you there to talk to you. A joke a day keeps the doctor away, as Jake would say as you laughed at almost every one of his jokes

"Hey hey hey, [name]." Jake greeted as you sat right across from him. He started hanging out quite frequently at your distant uncle's restaurant which was right by your house. Jake was one step ahead of you and already had your favorite coffee order ready. "Another long day of entertaining the little devils."

"Once again, they are seven and most are little angels but thank you for the drink." You took a sip before your eyes landed on his hair. His entire appearance has changed a lot since you met him. His hair grew longer and he started to slick it back using gel. He wasn't wearing the button up shirts anymore, and instead switched to tracksuits even when you said it wasn't his best look. "Your hair looks a lot better now that you've grown it out."

"What can I say? Just call me the next Brad Pitt." He flipped his imaginary long hair and smiled as he watched your smile.

"Absolutely not, but I appluad your effort." You smiled as his face fell into a pout. It was the mornings like this that made you excited to wake up and get ready. Ever since Jake started to hang around, you've been waking up a tad bit earlier to spend extra time getting ready and sleeping a tad bit later due to the uncontrollable smile on your face.

"Why do you even like being a teacher? All I can imagine are those little children gluing crayons onto their fingernails and eating it." He started playing with his fingers to try and model what he thinks the kids would look like.

"First of all, never do that again because it is not cute."

"Hey! Everything I do is cute." Jake got offended while you just stared at him as if he was an alien. It didn't last long because you can never get over his pouty face that makes him look like a sad dog.

"Second of all, I just love being around kids. When I was a child, my parents were almost never around until I got older. When my dad left the family business and pursued another career, it took up most of his time and my mom lives overseas. Teachers were the ones that filled in that parental role and I wanted to be just like them." When you finished your little backstory, Jake was staring at you which made you look down in embarrassment, "Sorry for the rant, I-"

"No, dont apologize, I get it." His voice seemed softer, softer than the voice he uses to tease you with, softer than the voice he uses to flirt with you, softer than the manly voice he uses around your uncles; it felt real. "My parents weren't really there either so I spent my childhood alone watching 'Die Hard'."

"I love that movie. I used to watch that too since my dad has it on the DVDs" You shared a comforting look.

"God, you just get more perfect don't you." He quickly spoke as he melted, your hands were quickly grasped in his. That was new. Maybe you should mention 'Die Hard' again if this was going to be his reaction.

"Looks like we're more alike than we think." You smiled, looking at your intertwined hands. He either didn't let go because there was no going back or he liked the feeling.

"You can add both being late because I am never on time and you are about to be tardy young lady."

Panic filled your eyes and you hastly got up from your seat, taking your bag and coffee, and pushed in your chair, "Bye bye!"

"Bye" Jake said in a sing songy voice as he waved and watched you entire your car before driving off.

You both shared a sandwich that was cut in half as the streets filled with people walking to work or to get their morning drink or breakfast.

"So, are you going to the wedding tomorrow?" His tone seemed a bit different. You couldn't quite place your finger on it, but lately hes been a bit more fidgety. Maybe the wedding makes him feel lonely and he was about to ask you?

"Oh, I wish I could, but I don't really like those two getting married so I'd rather not waste my time." You shamelessly admitted and he looked almost relieved.

"How about your dad?"

"He doesn't like them either and he left on a business trip last night and wont return until next week." You told him, "Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering since it seems like a big event." His eyes widened as he emphasized the word big. "But there's no need for you to come anyways if you don't like them-"

"Did you want me to come?" You tilted your head as he stumbled for the right answer. You were honestly hoping that he would finally ask you out and you wouldn't have to be carefully searching through the restaurant windows to see if he was there.

"Oh no. Noooo. Not at all. You really shouldn't come." He was way too dismissive and offensive and it came out way harsher than he expected.

"Oh." You simply said and you could definitely feel your heart being cracked right open from embarrassment of ever thinking he was going to ask you out. It's not like you were daydreaming during work or right before bed of him asking you, but a simple no would be sufficed.

"I didn't mean it like that!" Jake saw the way the corners of her lips turned slightly down and wanted to punch himself for not choosing his words carefully. It's been two months since he started this undercover mission. The first four were spent learning the Ianucci family and how they operated. Now that he has successfully infiltrated the family, it was time for the hardest part. Breaking the connections he had formed. At first, he thought it would be a piece of pie. The only thing he shouldn't do is actually care about these people. That shouldn't have been hard since they were all criminals... Most were criminals at least. He was never supposed to keep talking to you, that wasn't the plan. He should have never asked why you wanted to be a cop, he should've never asked why kids made you so happy, and he should've never talked to you to begin with, but he did, and now he has to face the consequences of his actions.

Although you weren't involved with the business, they were still your blood-related family. They invited you and your dad to the parties and gave you discounts in the stores that they owned. Sure, you didn't like or associate yourself with most of them, but Jake knew you still cared for them because they were family and he didn't know how he could ever face you again for what he'll be doing at the wedding.

"I mean I'd love to have you as my partner to the wedding, but I wouldn't want to make you be somewhere you don't want to be. Especially since we all know that the groom is a dirty cheat and the bride is the definition of a mean girl." He rambled and you agreed with the last part since you watched him up with most of the drama. "But, that's not to say that I wouldn't want to go with you because you know- it's you, and-"

"Okay Peralta. Slow down. Down forget to breath." You used slow down movements with your hands, bringing it up and down slowly to make him stop rambling.

Jake stopped his rant and took a deep, deep breath.

"I get it, you don't need to defend yourself so much."

"Let me restate. [Name] Ianucci, I would be honored to be your partner or whatever gathering you want, except the wedding. That is if you'd still want me to after the wedding-"

"Of course I would!" She interrupted him, a gummy smile slapped across her face and Jake soon matched it with his own after she joyfully cheered and he couldn't even act nonchalant like you'd imagined you would if he ever asked. You were so overwhelmed with joy that you totally missed the part where he said 'if you'd still want me after the wedding.' It was a simple sentence that you overlooked any double meaning towards. "Ehem, I mean cool.

"Cool. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool." Jake leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of his iced drink as a goofy smile etched across his face. However, despite how happy he should've been in that moment, it was soon crushed by the overwhelming feeling of guilt as you excused yourself to go to work.

Shock wasn't enough to describe what you felt as you watched the news. Short videos and photos played across the screen as the news reporter reported on New York's latest arrests and there you found partially blurred photos of extended family and the wedding venue that you didn't attend. It didn't feel real as you saw the police arrest people you've seen at family gatherings. Someone must have snitched and you have a feeling that you know exactly who.

Jake Peralta. It started to make sense. He practically told you to not attend the wedding, but you were too caught up to understand why. Had you attended the wedding without his heads up, you would've been another person in those handcuffs.

You felt betrayed, but also protected. He had asked for you and your father's whereabouts before the entire thing happened. Was this his way of keeping you safe? Did he actually have feelings or did he just want to use you to learn more about the family and you gave it to him?

Scenes flashed throughout your mind as your reminded of all the times he asked odd questions and all the times you spilled to him the secrets. You began to form a headache as your reality came crashing down.

Your father had predicted the fall to happen somewhat like this. It was your Uncle's stupidity to let in an ex-cop and now look at where that landed them. You wouldn't say that you were sad, you anticipated the day where karma would take its place for all the victims of their business; you just never would have guessed that you fell in love with the person who caused that downfall.

Love, what a silly feeling to feel towards someone who you were sure abandoned you. Would he even fulfill his promise to take you on a date after this entire wedding? Should you be mad at him for doing his job and lying to you about his identity? What was real and what was fake?

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Who was it? Who could be knocking at your door at 10 in the night. Could it be the cops coming to arrest you for not outing your family? You quietly snuck to the door, scared to see the person who lurks behind it. It was a polite knock, not a police-y at all. Maybe it was a friend or cousin. You slowly opened the door, and peeked your head to see who it was.

"Jake Peralta?" You said his full name in suprise.

"[Name], please can we talk." He looked like desperate as he towered over you, his arm on the frame of the door, and the other on the door knob.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Jake." You were wary and didn't know how to feel. Evergtbing was happening all at once and you felt lost, but you needed answers.

"Please, give me a chance to explain everything." He pleaded with desperate eyes. "I know you're probably confused and upset, but let me explain and you can ask questions."

"Come in." You stepped aside and let him into your home for the very first time. It wasn't the scenario you imagined but it was a something. You walked over to the living room but neither one of you felt like this was a conversation to be had sitting down.

"It was you wasn't it? The one who sold them out?"

"Yes. It was." He admitted, "I'm still a cop."

"So you were just undercover the whole time?"

"Yes, I approached your uncle at the bar and it went from there. I can't say much- actually I already am, but, you weren't supposed to be apart of it."

"Stop right there, Peralta. Just give me a moment." You took a deep breath and when you thought you were ready to speak, your mouth held you back. A few more sighs later and you were ready with your next quest, "When we were talking? Did you approach me to just get more information?"

"Well, no. I thought you were cute so I sat down next to you at the bar. That wasn't the higher ups telling me to do it, that was my free will." Jake cracked an awkward smile, but saw on her face that that was not the tone. "I was already informed that you and you father have no part in the business so you weren't really on my radar. When we started talking, sure you did give me the latest gossip, but I wanted to talk to you. Like for realsies."

"So when you told me that you grew up alone-"

"That was all true. Everything I told you about myself was true, except for the whole undercover cool secret spy thing. You have every right to be mad-"

"I'm not mad." You told him and Jake's eyebrows shot up.

"You're not?"

"You were just doing your job and I can respect you for protecting your city, like batman." You sighed, regretting references batman in this serious conversation. "Most of my family there don't like me and do terrible stuff anyways. We were only relates by blood, besides, you did tell me not to go."

"I didn't want you to see the aftermath of everything. You had no part in anything and-

"But wouldn't I still get in trouble for not reporting it? I mean, I knew what kind of people they were but I didnt say anything." Jake stayed silent and she continued, "Why protect me? There are others in there that had no part too. Why me?"

"Because..." he trailed off, feeling his heart start to race as you looked at him to continue, "Because, your special to me. I really really like you, [Name]. I like the way you talk, the way speak about your students, the way you smile, the way your eyes softened when you talk about things you love. The way you put up with my childish antics and act like you don't like it but smile just seconds later. You never judge when I'm talking and I like you so much that I feel like I'm about to burst. I would rather you hate me than me not be in your life at all. I know I lied but I am serious about you and when this is all over, I want to fulfill the promise I made to you. I am in love with you."

I am in love with you. That's all you needed to make your decision. Your hands found it's way to the sides of his face and your lips found it's way to his. He immediately wrapped his hands around your waist, one resting one the small of your back and the other resting on your hip, stabling the both of you admist your passion. You moved your right hand into his hair that was already ruffled and messed up as he was running and finding his way to your apartment. He kissed you as if he was been yearning for the touch of a woman for centuries. It was so gentle but so passionate that you could feel your face getting hotter and heart beating faster. You both pulled each other as close as possible and he leaned forward to try and deeply feel you even closer. When you finally did break the kiss, he stared down at you with half lidded eyes, drunken on love and the sight you.

You grabbed his chin and softly brought it closer, "I love you too. The way that you joke around, the way that you smile, the way you talk, the stupid smile on your face when you talk about 'Die Hard' or the stories you had when you were a cop. I love all of it. I love you." You whispered and he rested his head on your shoulder, overwhelming happy that he didn't ruin one of the best things in his life.

"So, it's after the wedding technically. How about that date-" He started as you just melted into his chest.

"Just shush and enjoy this moment. We'll figure out everything later. Let's go to my room." You grabbed his hand and led him to your room, "While I have your attention though, you need to drop these tracksuits because I love a man in uniform."

"Already on it." He smirked as you closed and locked the door. You, [Name] Ianucci, dating and being with a cop whose absolutely hated by your family. What's the worse that could happen?

#jake peralta x reader #jake peralta #jake peralta one shot #jake peralta oneshot #b99 #brooklyn99 #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine #jake peralta x you #fawnnlvr writes

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kewpiekitty · 1 month ago

Text

where have you gone?

a/n !: i'm excited to finally finish this omg !! i was inspired by this scenario from @doodlewritesfics and i have been wanting to write this since i read it ahhh !! this is post-realization mateo btw !! also we're gonna pretend he can still see objects even after he's been realized and the inanimals are being watched by betty ! i hope y'all enjoy this !! also maybe i'll make a part two with pregnant!reader !!

content warning !: fem!reader, insecure!reader, reader kind of has abandonment issues, angst, comfort, crying, starts gentle then turns into rough sex, creampie, begging, and implications of pregnancy !!

synopsis !: the next morning you wake up to find mateo gone, nothing giving you a clue as to where he could've gone or when he'll be back. when you finally see him again you don't know if you can forgive him.

You were laid next to Mateo on the couch, it was a funny feeling, being able to really feel him next to you now. His warm hand brushing against your arm with each pet he gave to the dogs. They were sprawled out all over the couch and floor. It was like a dream come true, he was really here, and so were the inanimals.

The sounds of their breathing and occasional sighs had you drifting off to sleep. Before you are able to fully fall asleep, you hear Mateo whisper.

"You are my family, forever."

His words were all you needed to hear before you fell asleep, head on his shoulder. Dreaming about helping Mateo and the inanimals find other missing critters and giving them a home.

You wake up with a smile on your face, excited to spend the day with your now real boyfriend. Only now, there is no sign of him anywhere. You look around the house, trying to find clues of him or the inanimals everywhere. Yet there are none.

Thinking that maybe you could've dreamt about realizing him, you put the dateviators back on. You look around the house once again but there is still no sign of him. Fear washes over you as you think about what could have possibly happened to Mateo. The objects all tell you the same thing, that they haven't seen him either. With no other ideas left, you break down crying. Discouraged and tired, you fall asleep on the couch where you and Mateo had been the day before.

It has been a week since you've last seen him. You were drained and exhausted but you decided to turn on the tv. When you do a commercial for the WFYB pops up, and there stands Mateo and the inanimals. Your heart felt like it stopped and your breathing slowed, you watched in silence until he disappeared from the screen. Finally seeing your chance to find him you grab your keys and bolt out of the house, heading straight for the building.

When you arrive there is no sight of him, but you talked to the person at the desk. No useful information came from them, except for a dismissive "They always come back!". All you could do was ask for whatever updates you could get, giving them your number so they could notify you as soon as Mateo returned.

As you leave the building you think back to the commercial. The voice on the tv saying "They have never left a subject behind".

Except for you. They left you behind.

All week you had laid in bed, unable to bring yourself to do anything without knowing Mateo was okay. The stress made it hard for you to get out of bed, and it was getting noticeable that you weren't moving around the house recently. A gruff voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

"You should really take a shower you know?" It was Doug. Of course he'd be here right now.

"Doug please go away, I'm seriously not in the mood." He scoffs at you. "Yeah, that's why I'm here right now, dork." He grabs your arm and pulls you up out of the bed. "Listen, it's bumming everyone out cause you're just laying in bed. We know you miss Mateo but you need to get a grip."

You want to get angry at his words but you can't muster up enough strength. You were tired, you had been abandoned and you were just expected to be okay with it?

"What do—what do I do Doug?" Your body gives out and falls over onto his. "What do I do now?" He wraps an arm around you and rubs your back somewhat soothingly. "How about you take a bath, relax for a bit and then you can go ask if there are any updates on your little boytoy okay?"

You nod against his shoulder, gathering the strength to get up and run the bath water. A cool hand places itself upon your shoulder. You turn around to see Bathsheba, the dark frown on her face making you nervous.

"I just cannot believe that he had the nerve to just dip like that! You realize him and then he just goes off into the world? No call, no text, no note, no "goodbye honey i'm off to become a member of a search group!"

You roll your eyes at her words despite them being true. She sits on the counter top and carries on talking as you bathe yourself, thankful for her chattiness since the last thing you want to do right now is talk. When you finish your bath she helps you get dry and brushes your hair, all while continuing to gossip.

Bathsheba sends you off into your room to get dressed, hoping that maybe today will be better for you. As you finish dressing a high pitched ping echoes through the room. Your heart begins to race—could that be an update?

You jump onto your bed, grabbing your phone in both hands. Your eyes are closed as you hold it up, one slowly opening to see who could've texted you.

It was the WFYB. . .Mateo is back.

You rush to the building again, hoping—no praying, that he'll be here this time. Your heart is racing so fast that you can hear your own heartbeat. There's a heavy feeling in your stomach, the uncertainty being able to see him again weighing in the hair.

When you open the doors you see him. His chubby and tall figure standing there talking to one of his associates. You feel sick, a mixture of emotions creeps up. Anger at Mateo for not saying anything, happiness that he's alive and well, and sadness that he just left you.

He turns around at the sound of the door chiming, a big smile plastered on his face when he sees you.

"Mi vida! We've missed you so—" You interrupt him, asking to talk to him in private. When he takes you to a room off to the side you break down. Allowing every single emotion you've been feeling to come out all at once. Sobs rack through your body as he wraps his arms around your frame, but you push him away, pain now the only thing on your mind.

"How could you leave me like that? You said I was your family, but you didn't even tell me you were leaving!"

A deep frown forms on his face, guilt flows through his body. "I'm so sorry mi vida, I know I should have said something before but—"

"No! You don't get to do that. I was worried day and night about you, I had no clue if you were dead or alive." You use your hand to wipe the tears from your eyes. "There was nothing that told me where you were. Do you know how scary that is?"

He stands there looking like a child who's getting yelled at by his mother. He doesn't interrupt, letting you say what you need to. Although he's a little hurt that you rejected his touch he understands. However, his understanding goes out the window when you say that you don't think you can continue to be with him.

"Mi amorcita please. I know I've messed up but please don't say that, you know you're my family. You're everything I need."

You scoff, anger taking over everything in your body.

"Do I know that? Mateo, I'm not mad that you wanted to do this." You hold his hands in yours. "I'm just mad you left without any warning. What if you did that and something happened? I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

Tears well up in his big brown eyes, his lower lip jutting out and trembling. Your heart aches at his face. Your words have him looking like a kicked puppy. Yet his actions had you hurting like one.

"I'm sorry Mateo, but I don't think I can—"

He interrupts you with a bear hug, his grip so tight it could've stopped your breathing. You could feel warm tears wetting your shirt, along with small hiccups coming from his trembling body.

"hic—ple...please mi vida. i can't live without you, i n...need you in my life—please." His cries were desperate and pleading. It was obvious he was trying to convince you to rethink your choice, and it was working. He didn't know how much it hurt you to say those things.

'But if I was so important, then why didn't he tell me he was leaving?'

He lowers himself onto his knees, his arms now wrapped around your legs. His face is stained with tears as he looks up at you. "bebecita—hic—por favor, forgive me. i haven't been the man you deserve, please...let me make it up to you."

You pause, not knowing what to do. You can't help but feel so bad for your sweet boy. His lips forming a cute pout while he cries. Your hands find their way to both sides of his face, using your thumbs to wipe away his tears.

"C'mon, let's go home okay? We can talk more about this there." You pull him up to his feet, taking hold of his hand. You, Mateo, and the inanimals make the way back to the house. The silence on the way there was killing him, while the inanimals were wagging their tails at the sight of their home.

You enter the house, silence still filling the gaps between the two of you.

"I'm going to head upstairs, okay? just make yourself comfortable and if you need something just ask."

His strong grip stops you in your tracks. You can't bring yourself to look back at him, if you do you won't be able to stop falling apart.

"bebecita...please look at me." you don't say anything, you don't dare to move either. "[name] please look at me!" you turn to look at him, his eyes watering once again. "i'm sorry. i don't deserve you and i know that now. you gave me the greatest gift of all—your love. and i took it for granted like a fool."

He brings your hand up to his face, leaving kisses all the way up your arm. Warm tears dripping with each kiss he places. "I will do anything for your forgiveness, mi vida. Please let me make it up to you. If I can't please you, then I will accept the fact that you're no longer mine."

His arm snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to him. A soothing hold on the small of your back. Your heart aches at his words. You know he didn't mean to leave you in such a way, so you hate to make him so upset. Though it hurt you so much, you never could've seen him again, and you would have had to live with the fact that he was never coming back.

You didn't reject his touch, and he took this as a sign to continue. His swollen lips kiss from your neck to your ear. Shivers going down your spine due to his hot breath.

His strong arm hooks under your legs, the other holding your back to keep you from falling. He practically flies up the stairs with you in his arms. Never stopping his movements until he reaches your bedroom, the smell of your perfume and clean laundry hits him. He hasn't realized how much he missed your scent until now.

You're on the bed within seconds, staring up at Mateo between your open legs. His gaze is hungry—both pleading and animalistic at the same time. Like an animal that hasn't eaten in days, begging for food. You can feel the heat between your legs grow at his unmoving gaze. Small kisses are peppered all over your body, but most of them land in between your thighs. Mateo stares at you questioningly, his dark brown eyes filled with love, lust, and adoration.

"May I touch you mi bebecita?"

You nod absentmindedly, giving him the courage he needed to continue worshiping your body. The room was dim and quiet, each kiss he placed on your body was like an unspoken apology. His hands roamed around your body, occasionally stopping to pinch and play with your nipples.

The sounds you made were music to his ears. Looking back at it now, Mateo has no clue why he left the way he did. He had the world right in front of him. You gave him this gift of life, and the first thing he does is abandon you. He feels like such an idiot.

His cock twitches in his pants at the sight of you, he forgot what it felt like to touch you. To be able to worship your gorgeous body again. There is no rush with his delicate touches, he savors the moment of being with you again. It felt right, like this was how everything was supposed to be.

Mateo can feel the warm tears roll down his cheeks. Crying at your beautiful body under him. "Mi vida—please," He ruts against your clothed cunt, desperate to feel you around him. "allow me to make you feel good."

It doesn't take much time for the both of you to peel off your clothes. When you're naked you sit and stare at each other, taking in the vulnerability of each other. While he did leave so suddenly, you know you could never be fully mad at Mateo.

He's quick to hover over you, his hard cock poking at your entrance. You're nervous though, it had been awhile since the two of you had been able to do anything. This whole month you’ve been alone and you know it'll hurt when he bottoms out.

Mateo is gentle with your body though, treating you like a princess as he guides himself into you. A hiss of pain falls from your mouth at the feeling of him stretching you out. He plants a small kiss on the top of your head to help. "I know mi vida, I'm sorry for hurting you."

He doesn't move when he's finally bottomed out, allowing you to adjust to his size once again. He's always been so gentle with you, every word he speaks and every action he does is just so comforting. I guess whether he's human or not he'll always be that way.

You tap his shoulder signaling that it's okay for him to move. His thrusts are soft and sweet, catering to every need your aching hole has. You feel safe under Mateo like this, though it brings back memories that make tears threaten to spill from your eyes.

His pace gets quicker, his cock slamming into you at a rough and rapid pace. Small sobs break through the noises of skin slapping and groans. It's Mateo. "Bebecita please don't leave me," His thrusts get harder with each word he utters. "I'm so sorry, you're my goddess and I've been such a fool." His hands lift your legs up to your chest, spreading them wide enough to show off your cunt swallowing his dick whole.

Tears fell down his face for the fifth time today. His hands roam your body as he ruts into you with an animalistic face. Loud squishing and squelching sounds filling up the room. "Princessa, I know I messed up but please," He pulls himself out of you, and you whine at the emptiness between your legs. "tell me that you need me. Tell me that you'll always be mine. I need you to promise me you won't leave me please, and I won't leave you ever again."

He rams back inside of you and steadies himself before he pulls out once more. Your hole clenches around him at his words, the knot in your stomach begins to tighten and Mateo can tell. He angles his hips upward hitting your most precious spot. The friction makes it hard for you to even keep your eyes open now.

He grabs your chin with his hand and makes you look up at him. "Amorcita, tell me that it'll always be just us. I need to hear you say it. I need to hear you tell me you love me please." His pace gets sloppy and frivolous. Your legs wrap around his waist pushing him deeper inside of you.

"Mateo, I love you so much. I'll always love you with all of my heart!" He wants to come undone at your words, but Mateo knows better than to do that. He wants his princess to cum first. He needs you to.

Mateo's hand flies to your clit, circling the little nub until you're attempting to make coherent sentences. The only thing that falls out of your mouth is 'please'. And please he will, his cock slams into your g-spot. He slips out each time due to how wet you are.

With one final thrust he has you cumming all over his cock, a loud squeal coming from your mouth as he spurts his load inside of your pussy. When you've finally come out from the blissful daze you were in, you kiss his face all over.

"I love you Mateo. But please don't ever leave me like that again." He kisses your forehead before nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "I promise I won't my love, now, you can be by my side on our adventures. If you would like to be, of course." You nod your head, happy with the agreement you've come to. Ready to drift off into a peaceful slumber before. . .

"Amorcita, have you still been on the pill?"

You take a moment to think about it, eyes still closed. They pop open at the realization that no, you haven't been.

"Oh no. . ."

#pretty.kitty.writes !#x reader #date everything #date everything x reader #mateo manta x reader #mateo manta #x fem reader #mateo manta smut #sativa 𖦹°‧

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minminyoonjii · 2 months ago

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hey! i had an idea but it’s quite a long one if that’s okay. BUT you’re my favorite writer and you’re the only one i trust with this request :) can you write one about little fem reader who thinks she’s a burden or troublesome to cg ot8 skz (maybe because of some kind of misunderstanding?) and starts to misbehave (act out, throw tantrums) because she doesn’t want to tell them and doesn’t know how else to handle her emotions. maybe later on, they realize something has clearly been bothering her and confront her about it and she breaks down crying and finally tells them. basically something angsty with fluff and hurt/comfort in the end. you can completely ignore this if you don’t feel comfortable writing it; it’s totally fine! i love all your fics btw, keep up the great work! <33

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

🧡Stray Kids Scenarios Masterlist

🌹CW

Wholesome|Hurt/Comfort|Breakdown|Involuntary Regression|Bottling Up Emotions|Anxious! Little Reader|Depressive Thoughts|They Know|Lashing Out|Self-Doubt|Heavy Misunderstanding|Overthinking! Little Reader 💛 Oh beans, I'm back from war. Two long semesters for a degree. I apologise in advance if my writing isn't as smooth as before. I'm trying to get used to it again. Here's a little sneak peek into my life, I'm currently editing while having a serious scholar meeting and had to perform a QTE because I clicked the share screen button by accident. Thankfully, when checking with my friends, no one saw a thing, but as a first update in a while; my heart dropped so far. Do let me know if there are any tags I missed. Again, it's been months since I've written and uploaded. I hope everyone has a good day and enjoys this little reader hurt/comfort.

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 1.6K

"Don't do that," Jisung chastised, crossing his arms. You furrowed your brows, nibbling on your bottom lip, "Why should I listen to you?" you scoffed, rolling your eyes. Jisung looked at you in disbelief, "Easy there. What's with the attitude?" he asked, squatting down to where you're seated. You rolled your eyes once more, pushing yourself up, "Nothing," you defended, stepping out. Jisung pursed his lips, hand calling the only person who could get through to you, "Hyung, Code Otter," he said, with a serious and deadpan expression.

Chan sighed through the phone, "Really, Sung-ah? Code Otter?" he asked, rubbing his temples. "The disrespect I've experienced today," Jisung said, clutching his invisible pearls. "But, yes. Code Otter. She's on the loose," he said in all seriousness. Chan hummed, "I'll find her," he said, hanging up the call. A huff of air escaped your lips as you stared into the horizon. The sun was starting to set, hues of pink and orange merging together.

Thoughts spiralled into your head. "She was falling behind," Minho said, watching your audition clip. Felix nodded, "Yeah, her steps didn't match the others at all," he said, watching how far you've come. You bit your bottom lip, remembering the way you overheard their conversation. "Was I that lacking? I thought I improved this practice. Was I really out of step?" you mumbled, assuming that they were talking about the recent practice video they filmed.

More thoughts compiled together in the silence. "It's so hard to keep entertaining her," Changbin complained, scrolling through his phone. Hyunjin chuckled, "Right? She's so troublesome and needy," he smirked, showing Changbin something on his phone. You curled up further at the memory, "I don't want to be here anymore," you murmured, picking at the sides of your fingers. Chan sighed in relief, finding you curled up on the rooftop after hours of search, "Baby," he whispered, stepping towards you.

You flinched at his voice, "Chan," you replied, averting your gaze. Chan pursed his lips, "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, giving you the space to speak. You rolled your eyes, "I have nothing to say," you grumbled, your inner walls high and guarded. "Is that so?" he asked, watching your expression. You nodded, "Nothing at all," you whispered, picking at the sides of your fingers. Chan stretched his arms. "Alright then, come on," he said, reaching out his hand.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "To where?" you asked, staring at his palm. Chan smiled, "Home. Seungminnie ordered pizza for us," he said, waiting for you to take his hand. You hesitated, "Only because there's pizza involved," you said, taking his hand. Chan chuckled, "Yes, yes. I'm sure the boys bought your favourite too," he reassured, pulling you close. The ride home was tense, and you looked away from everyone. Changbin nudged Hyunjin's side, showing him a video he had taken with Berry. "Isn't she a menace?" he whispered, scrolling through the pictures of Berry nibbling his finger.

Hyunjin chuckled, "A total menace. She's so annoying, too," he grinned, trying to hold back his cuteness aggression. You pressed your tongue against your inner cheek, trying to bite back the tears building in your eyes. Thoughts spiralled again, "Can't they see I'm right here?", "How could they openly say that about me?", "Maybe, I deserve it," you thought, craving to be in your bed. Chan opened the car door, "Home sweet home," he said, helping you out.

You nodded, taking his hand, knowing that in your bed is a Skzoo waiting for your hugs. Seungmin smiled, handing you a slice of pizza, "Eat up before you bathe, it's still warm," he said, ruffling your hair. You feigned a smile and took a bite. The warmth flooded your mouth, making your heart feel tender. "How was your day, cupcake?" Minho asked, setting a glass of cider in front of you. "None of your business," you snapped, subtly glaring at him.

Minho squinted his eyes at your behaviour, "I asked because it is my business. How was your day?" he said, standing a bit straighter. You rolled your eyes, setting the food down. "Why do you want to know? Leave me alone," you huffed, losing your appetite as you remembered the way he talked about your dancing. Minho chuckled, "Acting like a brat isn't going to get you anywhere," he said, crossing his arms. "I am not acting like a brat," you retorted, glaring at him.

"Good girls, don't act this way, don't you think?" Minho said, trying to push you into that secure state. You scoffed, "Don't patronise me," you gritted, leaving the dining room. "Get back down here!" he yelled, placing his hand on his waist. You groaned, "Go away!" you yelled back, slamming your bedroom door. The room went silent after your outburst. "What just happened?" Jeongin whispered, as the tension felt heavy to speak up.

Chan sighed, "She's been on edge since this morning. I tried probing it out of her, but got nothing. Let's give her some space and hopefully she'll come to us sooner or later," he said, upset with himself for not handling the situation better. Felix rubbed his back, "It's okay, hyung. I'm sure she'll confide in us when it gets too much. I trust her, we all do," he whispered, rubbing the back of Chan's nape. Chan nodded, "I trust her, I do. I can't help but worry though," he admitted, exhaling deeply.

You washed up and dressed yourself in comfortable clothes. Your pacifier is clean and ready to use; your Otter Skzoo awaits your warm hugs. Tears streamed like a heavy load spilling through your body. Soft hiccups turned into silent wails as you muffled your cries behind your plush. "Too loud," "Too needy," "Too much," you thought. "I can't do anything right; everything I do is a mistake. I'm a mistake. It hurts," you whispered, thoughts coming aloud as you whispered them under your breath. "It hurts so much," you choked up, clutching the Skzoo in your hands like a lifeline.

It didn't take long for your headspace to switch involuntarily. Your mind had to recover, and it found solace in being little. You crawled out of bed, needing someone to hold you. Your bigger thoughts were muffled with the innate need to be comforted. There wasn't a fear of being judged or a fear of being pushed away. Your mind needed one thing, and nothing could come between it. You bumped into Jeongin, tears blurring your sight as you looked up at him. Jeongin's eyes widened. "What happened, Angel?" he whispered, lifting you in his arms.

Your lips wobbled, "Waah", you wailed, sobbing hard against his shoulder. Jeongin lifted you to the living room, bouncing you in his arms. Everyone looked at you with concern and worry in their eyes. Jeongin rubbed your back, "It's okay, Angel. You're okay," he shushed, trying to soothe you, but it didn't have much effect. You hiccuped through your sobs, "Chus no wan' me anymore," you sobbed, burrowing into Jeongin's shoulder. A shiver ran down their backs. "What do you mean, Agi-ah. Of course, we want you," Changbin cooed, trying to brush your hair, but you swat his hand away.

"Lies! You're lying!" you wailed, sobbing harder. "Princess, we're not lying. Could you tell us why you think so?" Hyunjin whispered, rubbing your back with Jeongin. You hiccuped, "Jinnie called me twoublesome and and needy," you cried, whimpering at the memory. Hyunjin furrowed his brows, trying his hardest to remember when he said those words. A soft gasp escaped his lips. "Princess, did you overhear us talking?" he asked, rubbing your arm. You nodded your head, tears and snot coating your puffy face. Jisung cooed, wiping the mess.

Hyunjin sighed, "Princess, we weren't talking about you. Changbinnie hyung was complaining about running with Berry. It could've never been you, sweetie. You're far too important to us," he reassured, kissing your forehead. You sniffled, "Really?" you whispered, a slight lisp in your voice. Hyunjin smiled, "Really, really," he said, tucking your hair behind your ears. Your lips wobbled, "Lixxie and Minmin said I'm lacking and is falling behind," you sniffled, looking at them for an explanation.

Minho raised an eyebrow, "Cupcake, when did you hear that?" he asked, trying to recall. Felix gasped, "Hyung, was it when we watched her old audition videos?" he said, heading closer to you. Minho's mouth agaped, "Right. Agi, we were admiring how far you've come. You're one of the best dancers I've ever gotten to dance with. We were reminiscing about not teaching and guiding you earlier. You've grown so much as a person, Agi-ah," he cooed, booping your nose.

You scrunched your nose, "Not a burden?" you whispered, tilting your head. Seungmin nibbled at your cheek, "Never a burden, silly girl," he teased, chuckling at your squeals. Chan pressed his forehead against yours, "Baby girl, no matter what happens, you'll never be a burden to us, okay?" he whispered, wiping the stray tears dripping down your cheek. Your tummy grumbled, feeling hungry after all that emotional turmoil.

Jisung chuckled, "Luckily, we still have some pizza ready to heat up. Come on, Baby. Let Innie get changed," he said, carrying you from Jeongin's soaked hold. You sniffled, "Sowwy, Ninnin," you said, upset that his shirt was practically soaked in tears, snot and saliva. Jeongin pecked your forehead, "It's okay, Angel. Go have dinner, hm? I'll join you later," he said, patting your hair. "You heard the man. We have a little one to pamper," Jisung chuckled, bouncing you in his hold.

Your giggles filled the room. Felix sighed, "Does this count as her admitting that she's a little?" he asked, watching Jisung entertain you. Chan pursed his lips, "About 70% I'd say," he chuckled, shaking his head as Jisung made aeroplane pizza slices to feed you. Minho hummed, "We'll get there, soon enough," he said, sipping his lukewarm tea.

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bonus-links · 2 months ago

Note

Director’s commentary please? Also Wake and Tetra holding hands and Slate finding the castle familiar ghfggf…

HELLO sorry I'm late! update here

I think in hindsight I needed to fix the levels on this update bc it's a little dark lol. I always try to check on multiple screens and multiple different lighting conditions before I post, but sometimes my eyes get too adjusted lol. anyway if it's hard to see details this update my apologies

holding hands for moral support <3 i imagine it's not easy for either of them to be back here

Linebeck staying on the ship lol. I'm going to be so real, he was supposed to go into the castle with them, but he didn't have much dialogue and I just really didn't want to draw a 6th person 😭 There was also a scene that was meant to go before this where Wake and Linebeck have a conversation, which was literally the whole reason he was in this chapter and greatly pained me to cut. I think I might still make it a bonus comic if I have time for it. anyway I rlly planned for Linebeck to actually have a point in this chapter and it ended up just not materializing HAHA rip linebeck im sorry

Slate can't help but remember that the last time he stepped up to decrepit haunted castle he rlly thought he was gonna die. This is a shot of Slate hesitating in front of Hyrule Castle just before the final confrontation with Ganon. it's one of the only times he wears the champion's tunic, as a specific tribute to The Other Guy. Anyway Slate has to laugh be what are the odds of being in this situation twice across millenia. he has 2 nickels

also the repeated Big Scary Dark Doorway.

On that note, this is the same BG as the conversation with Ganondorf, just scaled back and recolored.

my biggest goal with this update in was to emphasize the Wrongness of the castle being on the surface. It's also kind of, like, anticlimactic. What would usually be a puzzle dungeon or a big action set piece is just kind of. hollow and empty and damaged.

a lot of people have pointed out this panel break as clever, but it's actually not the first time I've pulled this trick lol! I didn't add the little strings this time tho bc well. mostly be the portal technically was not supposed go through the floor, so I felt it'd look weird if I added them. the example from the prologue has the advantage of being a midshot lol so the effect works slightly better imo

what's with me and statues huh

speaking of which i have a confession. recently I was replaying WW with my baby cousins and I got to the part in Hyrule Castle at the very very end and realized. the the hero of time statue is like completely knocked down and broken on the ground. which uh. is clearly not the case here. and has been one of the biggest visual motifs of this entire chapter. whoops lol

and finally, some close-ups of all the little guys

that's all I got for now! There's one more double update left and ch2 is done!!

#ask #directors commentary

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alive-gh0st · 2 months ago

Text

❝Nostos❞

⚜️Odysseus!Mark Grayson x Penelope!Reader⚜️

𓊈Part II — ”Epistrefó”𓊉

࣪ ˖ ࣪ ⊹˖ ࣪ 𓂃﹏﹏𓂃 ོ☼𓂃𓊝﹏﹏𓂃𓂁﹏﹏𓂃 ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ˖ ࣪

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

📜 summary: he left. not with cruelty. not with goodbye. mark just vanished—and you stayed. it’s hard to stay normal. you try to move on. you really do. but mark’s jacket still waits on the chair. his name is still pinned in your phone. the coffee still brews for two. and the letters? they pile up. this isn’t about hope. it’s about absence. you’re not hoping. just staying, even when no one asks you to. (aka. grief without a grave. love without closure. devotion without return.)

📜 contains: sfw. slow burn. heartbreak. memory as a character. one-sided presence. two-sided ache. grief without death. love in limbo. emotionally repressed!reader. odysseus-coded!mark. penelope-coded!reader. messy handwriting vs neat black pen. polaroid keepsakes. lots of flashbacks. debbie grayson being a mother figure to reader. soft domesticity haunted by absence. boxes of unsent letters. a jacket no one can move. a girl who stays. a boy who doesn’t come back (yet).

📜 warning: emotional themes. ambiguous grief. depressive routine. unresolved love. emotional repression. survivor’s guilt. mentions of blood/injury (light). isolation. loneliness. ambiguous trauma. post-battle exhaustion. implied memory loss. existential ache. quiet breakdowns. longing dressed as daily routine. no happy ending (in this part). read gently.

📜 wc: 6100

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌a/n: thank you for waiting so patiently for this story. i had a very specific ache in mind when writing this, and it wouldn’t leave until it was posted. “Nostos” is the first half of a two-part heartbreak duology (the second part, Epistrefó, is in the works). remember that sometimes, love doesn’t vanish—it just lingers in doorways and folds itself into jackets we simply can’t put away.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

You don’t check your phone anymore. Not at all.

Not for him.

Sure, you check the battery. The time. The weather. The signal bars in the top corner that say you’re still here, and he’s still not. But you don’t expect anything.

You don’t hope.

Not anymore.

Not since Mark disappeared one night and never came back. Not since his contact slipped further down your recent list with each passing day, replaced by bills, deliveries, and people who went back to normal too quickly.

Still, you charge it every night. Still, you leave the phone ringer on. Still, you wait.

Maybe that’s not hope. Maybe it’s just routine. The kind that sneaks in and settles behind your ribs when life starts to rot slowly. The kind that whispers—if I just do this one more time, maybe…

You wake before your alarm.

The morning light creeps in like a slow apology, filtering half-heartedly through the curtains. Your hand finds the phone instinctively, thumb brushing the screen without really looking.

No missed calls. No new messages. One software update.

You ignore it all.

The house is quiet. But it’s not peace. It’s absence. The faucet drips every six seconds. The kettle clicks on. You don’t remember pressing it. The hum of heating water sounds too loud in the silence you’ve been pretending doesn’t suffocate you.

You sit at the table with your legs folded underneath you, the mug pressed between both palms. The steam curls upward, ghostlike like something leaving.

No movement, no noise, no presence.

You scroll anyway.

His name is still pinned.

“Mark 💫”

You don’t remember what the emoji was supposed to mean.

He added it himself like it was hilarious. Said it made him look mysterious. Said he was “a riddle in human form” and you had laughed so hard you actually snorted.

Mark grinned like he liked the sound of your laughter too much.

That was before.

Now the last message from him still sits there like a paperweight you never moved or never dared to.

be there soon

You didn’t respond. You never got the chance. And you remember—

It was late.

You were at your front door, holding it open with your socked foot, arm crossed over your chest, just watching him from the hallway. His jacket was unzipped, hoodie strings uneven, hair still wet from the shower he’d apparently taken somewhere else.

Mark didn’t say where. You didn’t ask.

You always meant to ask more questions. You never did.

“I’ll be quick,” he’d told you.

You frowned. “Isn’t that what you said last time?”

He gave you that look.

The one that said ’don’t ruin this’. The one he always pulled when he was five seconds away from pulling you into a hug and ten seconds from disappearing entirely.

He kissed the side of your head instead.

“You’ll see me soon.”

A look. A promise. Nothing more, nothing less.

You’d watched him walk off with his hands shoved in his pockets, like he didn’t know what to do with them when they weren’t on you.

And then Mark never came back.

Back in the present, you unlock your phone again. Not for anything, really, just for some motion.

The drafts are still there.

You don’t even know how many you’ve written now. Some are seconds long. Some are full paragraphs. All unsent. All useless.

U alive or what lol

Remind me again why ur hot when ur annoying

It’s raining and you’re missing it. Again

Mark where are you

I should’ve told you not to go

Just say you miss me already. Coward

You promised, you promised, you promised

Just say something… anything

I hate you for this.

Your fingers tap a new one open without a second thought. Blank screen. Blinking cursor. And you type away.

Hey. You probably won’t see this. That’s fine. But I saw someone yesterday who almost looked like you. He smiled. You don’t really smile like that, but I wanted it to be you so bad I didn’t really care. Just thought I’d tell you that. That I thought it was you.

That I wished it was

You stare at it for a long time. Long enough that your eyes start to feel dry.

Then you lock the screen. Set it facedown. You don’t delete it. You don’t send it. You don’t do anything, really.

The ringer stays on.

Because maybe tomorrow, the silence will break. Maybe tomorrow, he won’t still be gone. Or maybe because that’s what you do when you love someone.

You wait.

══⊱≼⚜️≽⊰══

You didn’t mean to hold it.

Today was supposed to be about cleaning. Supposed to be about moving things around—there were sheets to wash, shoes to line up, that one drawer that collects things nobody owns.

You were supposed to finally put away the pieces of him that stayed even when he didn’t.

But the chair stopped you.

The jacket was still there. Still slung across the back like he just left it yesterday.

Like Mark might still come back for it.

It hangs exactly where he used to sit, where he’d tip backward on two legs and pretend he wasn’t breaking the chair every time. You used to scold him for that. Not seriously. Not like you meant it.

Now, there’s no one left to play pretend-annoyed with.

Your hand brushes the sleeve as you pass. And then you pause. Fingers curling into worn fabric that still holds his shape. You lift it gently, not all the way, just enough to hold it against your chest.

It smells like dust now.

But beneath that—beneath time, and distance, and everything he didn’t say—there’s still a trace of him.

That warm scent of something musky and clean and entirely Mark.

Something you only noticed the first time he hugged you and it stuck to your hoodie for days. Something that crept into your sheets and your sweaters and your bloodstream without permission.

You breathe it in. Then again. Slower this time.

It’s not grief, exactly.

It’s something duller. Something quieter.

You keep the jacket in your arms as you move to the kitchen. You don’t even realize you’re actually wearing it until you catch your reflection in the microwave—shoulders swallowed by dark fabric, sleeves dragging. It’s too big. Always was.

He used to joke about that, too.

“That’s the point,” he’d said once, tugging it over your shoulders when you were shivering outside. “If it fits, it’s not boyfriend-coded.”

You’d rolled your eyes. “You’re not my boyfriend.”

He’d shrugged, lips tugging into a crooked smile. “Yet.”

You hadn’t answered. But you hadn’t taken it off either.

It was cold that night.

Not freezing, just sharp in the kind of way that nipped at your fingertips and made you hug yourself tighter.

You’d both been walking back from something—food, maybe. You don’t remember the details. Just that your arms were bare and your voice was quieter than usual.

Mark had slowed beside you, watching the way you rubbed your arms. He didn’t say anything yet. Just unzipped his jacket and handed it over like it was instinct.

You hadn’t asked. He hadn’t offered. He just did it and you took it.

He didn’t make a joke after that. Didn’t even flirt. Just kept walking beside you like it was the most normal thing in the world.

But it changed everything.

Not right then, not obviously, but something shifted.

You remember the way your stomach twisted and your heartbeat picked up. You remember thinking—

Oh.

He didn’t touch you again that night, not once. But you felt him everywhere.

You slide the jacket off and drape it over the back of the same chair again.

Smoothing the collar down. Adjusting the shoulders like he might sit there again. Like maybe if you leave it just right, he’ll feel it.

You keep it where you’d reach for him if he were here.

Right there. In arm’s length.

Because if you moved it—if you packed it away in a box or folded it into the back of your closet—it would mean he’s not coming back. And you’re not ready for that.

You stir the tea. One cup. Steam rising.

Mark’s chair stays empty.

But the jacket waits.

══⊱≼⚜️≽⊰══

It just… happens.

You measure out the coffee, same as always. Scoop. Scoop. Pour. Wait.

The rhythm is muscle memory now—something buried into the mornings like breath, like heartbeat, like him. Then you finally catch yourself.

Two mugs. One for you. One for Mark.

It’s like the whole room freezes.

You’d promised yourself you stopped doing this. That you finally broke the habit. You even shoved his mug to the back of the cabinet.

You swore you were done waiting.

But it’s still there.

Still chipped on the side where he knocked it against the sink one morning and said it gave the mug “character.” It’s still black with those stupid yellow stars.

Still his.

You should’ve noticed when your hands reached for it before your head did.

Still him.

You pour the coffee anyway. Two mugs. No sugar in either. Just the way he drank it and the way you learned to drink it too. And you leave the other warm, just in case.

You sit at the table.

Mark’s cup across from you. Untouched. And you remember—

It was a mess of a morning.

You were late. He was somehow later. The kitchen was a disaster, and Mark was shirtless for absolutely no reason. You were trying to make toast while he danced barefoot on the tile to a song you couldn’t stand.

You’d told him to stop being annoying.

He’d winked. Stole the toast off your plate.

You’d shrieked, actually shrieked, and chased him around the counter, barefoot and giggling so hard you nearly slipped on the corner rug. Mark dodged you once. Twice. Then finally let you catch him.

Hands on your waist, your breath in his mouth, laughter tangled between your fingers as they clutched the front of his hoodie like it meant something.

It didn’t mean anything yet somehow meant everything.

He kissed you on the cheek. And you kissed him back. Mark whispered, “Keep the mug warm for me.”

And of course, you do. Every morning.

You lift your own cup, blow on it, sip and it burns your tongue. The second mug cools across the table. Quiet. Still. Full.

You rinse it out before you leave the kitchen. You always do.

Not because it’s dirty. Not because it was used. Just because that’s what you do.

When you’re still hoping.

Even if you won’t say it out loud.

══⊱≼⚜️≽⊰══

Stay productive.

That’s what people say, right? Structure helps. Routine is good. Keep busy.

Keep moving. Keep going. Keep making plans. Keep pretending you’re fine.

Like motion can patch what memory keeps splitting open.

So you write lists now. Groceries. Cleaning. Meal plans. Things you need. Things you might need. Things to make it look like you’re okay.

Tiny tasks that make up a life—yours now missing half of what made it feel like one.

Today’s list starts the same way as always. Blank paper. Black pen. You write the date at the top like it matters. Like it’s going to mean anything in a week.

Monday:

• Bread

• Tea

• Paper towels

• …

You pause after the third item. The pen hovers. Eyes drift toward the drawer to your left. You shouldn’t open it. You do it anyway.

You rifle through receipts and extra takeout menus, an old flashlight that barely works and then you find it.

Folded. Yellowed at the edges. Paper soft from time and… something else.

Your fingers unfold it slowly. You already know what it is. You know how it ends.

Mark’s handwriting stares back at you—lopsided and confident, faded blue color with that kind of controlled madness that always looked better on him than it had any right to. Like even his grocery lists didn’t know how to sit still.

• eggs

• bananas

• that almond milk you swear tastes different but doesn’t

• granola (get the one you like, I don’t care)

• more tea, we’re out again

• the cookies you pretend you don’t eat at 1am

• trash bags

• shampoo (the purple one)

• soap

• strawwber strawberry toothpaste

• something sweet (if you’re still mad at me)

Underneath that, at a slight diagonal across the corner—

’get flowers if she still looks tired.’

Drawn beside a doodle of what might be a dog, big heart eyes, lopsided ears, tongue out, and just next to it those three words…

’Love You…♡’

You laugh. Or maybe choke. You don’t know the difference anymore. The sound comes out somewhere in between.

You remember this list.

You’d been teasing him for writing everything on paper instead of using his phone. He’d argued phones were ”soulless,” and that “real men use Post-its.”

You’d rolled your eyes. Mark kissed your temple. Said lists were how he kept you with him when you weren’t there.

You press your thumb into the little heart he’d drawn beside your name. The blue ink’s slightly smeared—maybe it got wet once. Or maybe you just touched it too many times.

It’s stupid. It’s so stupid, the way it still folds exactly the same.

The way the creases fall into place like they know how to find their way back. Like him.

You think about throwing it away. You even fold it once, just to unfold it again.

You stare at it until your eyes blur, until you stop seeing the letters and only see the way he handed it to you, smug and soft and so full of quiet affection you didn’t know what to do with it.

You don’t throw it out. You just slide it back where it came from. Like it belongs in the drawer. Like it still has a purpose.

The new list started on a different page.

And you don’t write your name on it.

You don’t add cookies or shampoo or flowers. You just… let his list stay.

Right where it was. Blue ink intact. Doodle untouched.

Like maybe it’s not a list at all—maybe it’s a letter. A timestamp. A small, stupid way to say Mark was here.

And maybe that’s enough.

══⊱≼⚜️≽⊰══

It starts like they all always do.

Somewhere between a joke and a lie. Between habit and hope.

You sharpen the black pen you always use—neat, intentional, boring—like if your handwriting is steady enough, your heart will be too.

The paper is folded once, creased twice, tucked behind the tray of teas and old receipts in the kitchen drawer.

There’s more where that came from. This isn’t the first. It won’t be the last.

You press the pen to the page, and let your hand lead.

﹏﹏

Hey, idiot,

I saw a guy today with the same shitty walk you have. Thought it was you.

Wasn’t. Obviously. He was taller.

And had better posture. So now I’m mad.

Not at him.

At you.

﹏﹏

You exhale.

It’s stupid, you know it is, but it doesn’t stop your fingers. Doesn’t stop the ache curling behind your ribs like something left too long in the cold.

﹏﹏

I made coffee.

You’d say it was too sweet. You’d drink it anyway. And lie.

Like you always did.

Like I let you.

﹏﹏

You swallow hard. Blink twice. Don’t stop writing.

﹏﹏

I keep the jacket on your chair.

The mug near the kettle.

You’re not here. But yet you’re everywhere.

﹏﹏

The pen presses harder now. The strokes sharper. Angrier.

﹏﹏

You said I’d see you soon.

You never said it’d be the last time.

I didn’t get to say goodbye.

I don’t even know if this is goodbye.

I don’t know anything.

Except that it still smells like you when I open the closet.

And I haven’t changed the sheets. And I keep forgetting how your voice sounds when you laugh. But I remember how it sounded when you said my name.

I hate that.

I hate you for that.

﹏﹏

The paper blurs.

You don’t notice the first tear until it hits the corner of the page. A soft smear like watercolor. Like proof.

You don’t wipe it away. More come. Slow. Heavy. Quiet.

Your body doesn’t sob. Doesn’t heave. You just… leak. Like your heart sprung a hole somewhere too deep to find.

And still, your hand moves.

﹏﹏

I remember the first time you touched me like you meant it.

Not the kiss. Not the teasing.

I mean your hand on my back. Just resting there. Just… there. No pressure. No agenda.

I think that’s when I knew.

You brushed my hair off my forehead the night you stayed late. We weren’t even together. You didn’t ask. You just did it.

And I wanted to cry, even then.

﹏﹏

You’re shaking now, just a little. Just enough for the words to tilt downward, slope off-kilter like they’re falling away from you.

Like he did.

﹏﹏

You used to hum when you thought I was asleep. Through the bathroom door while brushing your teeth.

I never told you I heard it. I just listened. It made me feel safe.

You made me feel safe.

﹏﹏

You pause.

And for a second, your mind goes completely blank.

You sit in it. The silence, you mean. The space where he used to be.

The world moves on. The faucet drips. The light buzzes. Somewhere outside, a car starts.

You look down at the page.

﹏﹏

I’m scared you’re gone, Mark.

But I’m more scared I’ll learn how to live with it.

﹏﹏

That’s the last thing you wrote. No signature. No goodbye.

Just a confession.

You fold it slow, with care. Then you rise, move across the apartment like sleepwalking. Like prayer.

You kneel by the closet. Reach behind the stack of scarves and that one box of photos you haven’t opened since fall. There’s a shoebox there. Faded cardboard, tied with a string. You lift the lid.

Letters.

Dozens of them. Maybe more. Some are bent. Some warped at the corners. Some tear-stained.

All unopened and all unsent.

You place the new one on top. Neatly, lovingly—like it belongs.

Then you close the lid. Tug the string taut again. And push the box gently back into the dark. You don’t say anything. But in your head, you whisper,

If you come back… I’ll give you all of them.

══⊱≼⚜️≽⊰══

It was raining.

Not the cinematic kind. Just grey, steady, apathetic—like even the sky had given up.

You hadn’t spoken to anyone in two days. Hadn’t opened the blinds. It was a Tuesday. Or maybe a Wednesday. You didn’t care anymore.

There was a knock at the door. Three short taps.

You knew it was her before you even looked through the peephole. There was a pause. Then the sound of the key turning in the lock.

Debbie didn’t wait. She never did.

She stepped inside with the same quiet confidence she always had—like someone used to walking through grief. Like she already knew the shape of it.

You stood barefoot in the doorway. Hoodie too big, eyes tired and puffy.

“I brought soup,” she said simply.

Her voice was gentler than the rain. You didn’t reply, just nodded. Let her set the bag on the counter and pretend the room wasn’t full of things neither of you could say out loud.

“Tea, too,” she added. “The one you like. With the weird little flowers in it.”

You didn’t remember ever telling her that. Maybe Mark did. You didn’t ask.

The kettle clicked on. The air started to fill with steam and silence. You sat at the table while she moved around the kitchen with quiet ease—like it was still hers too.

Debbie walked like she knew where everything was. Because she did, in a way.

You sat on the chair, watching her stir the broth like it was a spell. She didn’t ask how you were. Didn’t mention him. Just placed the bowl in front of you and cupped your shoulder in one hand, soft but steady.

“Eat,” she said. “You don’t have to talk.”

So you didn’t.

The soup scalded your mouth, and maybe that was the point. You blinked too hard once. Looked down instead of up. Debbie sat across from you, elbows on the table, tea in hand.

She looked tired too. But not the same kind of tired. The kind that comes from knowing too much and saying too little.

She let the silence stretch. Let it fill every corner of the kitchen without trying to sweep it away. She sipped her tea, slow and steady, like the world wasn’t breaking apart right in front of her.

At one point, she opened her mouth. Paused. Closed it again.

You looked up.

Her eyes were fixed on the jacket. Still on the chair. Still untouched. Still his.

Her jaw tightened, just a little.

“You keeping it there on purpose?” she asked, like it didn’t mean anything, like it wasn’t the first time either of you had acknowledged it.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

Debbie nodded once. Almost like she understood. Like she was doing the same thing in a different house.

“He used to leave his socks everywhere,” she said quietly. “I found one under the couch last week.”

You didn’t know what to say to that.

Eventually Debbie started cleaning while you ate. Folded the dish towel. Organized that one drawer you kept forgetting about. Hummed a song you didn’t recognize under her breath.

At some point, she slid the other tea towards you.

You blinked. “I don’t—”

“I know,” she said. “But you need it today.”

You obeyed.

It was awful. It tasted too sweet, too floral. Like comfort where it didn’t belong. But you drank it anyway. Because Debbie was right.

When she left, she kissed the top of your head and pressed a folded napkin into your hand.

“I’m may not be him,” she said, quiet and steady, “but I’m not going anywhere.”

You didn’t open the napkin until the door clicked shut behind her. Inside, in her neat cursive, it just said—

Eat. Sleep. Let yourself be loved.

Below it, smaller,

Call me if you forget that.

You blinked hard again. This time, it wasn’t because of the soup. You tucked it in the drawer. Right under the first letter you ever wrote to him.

And you never threw it away.

══⊱≼⚜️≽⊰══

It’s not hard to lie.

You thought it would be. You thought the shape of his name in your chest would make it catch somewhere between your teeth, twist your mouth into something unreadable—but no.

When people ask if you’re okay, your voice doesn’t crack. Your face doesn’t fall. You just smile. Tight and bright and fine.

”I’m fine.”

It rolls off your tongue like water. Like breath. Like maybe, if you say it enough, it’ll start being true.

You say it at the coffee shop. At the pharmacy. To the neighbor with the loud dog and the judgmental eyes.

And you say it tonight, too.

You weren’t planning to go. You don’t remember saying yes. Don’t remember texting back. But somehow, you’re here anyway.

Same bar. Same table. Same people. Same everything, except the part that matters. The seat next to you is empty. No one takes it. They don’t even try.

It used to be Mark’s. Always.

He’d sprawl too far, take up too much space, nudge your knee under the table like it was a secret only you two knew.

He’d make jokes too loud, smile too wide, say your name in that ridiculous sing-song tone that meant he wanted something.

You look around.

Someone laughs, you think it’s William. A real sound. Loud and open and bright.

You wonder how he can do that so easily without his best-friend but you mimic it perfectly. And it almost feels real.

Almost.

They’re his friends.

But they became yours too, at some point.

Somewhere between group dinners and stupid game nights and Mark dragging you along even when you said you were tired.

Now they invite you without him. Pretend it’s the same.

Maybe they also don’t know what else to do.

You nod at the right times. Ask the right questions. Sip the drink Amber handed you earlier and pretend it doesn’t taste like guilt.

Eve tells a story you’ve heard before. You laugh.

It feels like theft.

On your way home, every man you pass looks a little like him.

A curl of dark hair. A familiar height. A walk that’s too casual to be a stranger’s. And every time, your heart stutters. Then sinks.

You’re not even surprised anymore. You barely blink. It’s like your brain keeps pressing the bruise just to make sure it still hurts.

It does.

There’s a couple ahead of you on the sidewalk. The guy lifts his girlfriend’s hand and spins her around. She laughs, off-balance, clutches his jacket.

Mark did that once.

You’d told him to stop being cheesy. He said you needed more magic in your life. That he could be that for you. That he wanted to be.

You’d called him stupid.

Mark had grinned and spun you anyway.

You’d laughed.

And believed him.

It’s late when you get back.

The apartment smells like lemon cleaner and leftover memory.

You peel off your jacket, toss your keys in the bowl by the door. Kick your shoes off. Shrug.

The chair still holds the jacket.

The mug is still clean.

The box of letters stays untouched in the closet, tucked beneath everything else. Like muscle memory. Like something sacred.

You flick on the lamp, just one, the soft one by the couch. It doesn’t light the whole room—just enough to see by. Just enough to remember.

You sit.

No sound. No movement. No laughter through the wall or door slamming shut or Mark calling, “I’m back!” with a grin in his voice like he never left.

The couch is too quiet. Your hands too still.

You don’t cry.

You’re not even sad, not really. Not tonight, not yesterday, not tomorrow. You just feel… empty.

You wonder what it means to miss someone without being abandoned.

Because he didn’t leave you. He just left. And you stayed.

That’s what you’re good at.

Staying.

Even when everything else doesn’t.

══⊱≼⚜️≽⊰══

You don’t know how long it’s been.

You could count the days. You could scroll through the calendar, trace your finger back through mornings and meals and missed alarms—but you won’t.

You already know time doesn’t move right anymore.

Not forward, not backward, just around. Looping like bad weather—like a door that won’t shut all the way.

You clean the kitchen for the third time in two days. It doesn’t need it. The counter gleams. The stovetop is spotless. You scrub anyway.

The rag smells like citrus and ache.

The music you put on in the background stops three songs in. You don’t notice until the apartment goes still again, until the silence feels too loud, too final, like a punchline that never came.

You breathe and stretch.

Decide today is drawer day.

You start with the junk one. Pens, batteries, some keys that don’t fit anything anymore. You find a single glove. Three twist-ties. A coupon that expired last year. And, tucked in the very back—

A pen. Blue.

You freeze.

Not yours. You only use black.

It’s scratched along the clip like he chewed on it. There’s a tiny smear of ink dried at the tip. The weight of it in your hand is so stupidly familiar your chest hurts.

You test it against your palm.

It still works.

You set it down like it’s fragile, like it might vanish if you breathe wrong. And for a second, you just… stand there. Hands on the counter, eyes on the pen.

It’s nothing. It’s just a pen. But it’s his.

Still here. Like you.

You think about burning them. The letters. The box. Everything unsaid.

You even set them out once.

One night when the air felt too heavy and your body buzzed with something desperate—something like grief or anger or just plain madness.

You pulled the box from the closet. Untied the string. Stacked the envelopes like firewood. You think there are thirty-seven now. Maybe more. You don’t count anymore.

And then you stared.

You imagined the flame. Imagined the way the ink would curl and vanish. How the words would finally mean something if they disappeared.

But you couldn’t do it.

Not because you believed he’d come back. Not because you were hoping. But because letting go would feel too final.

Too loud and too much.

So you put them away again. Tucked them back in the dark. You didn’t even read them. Just stayed.

The jacket’s been on the chair too long. You know it. The collar’s starting to droop, the sleeves are dusted in sunlight and stale air.

So you fold it.

Not like packing it away. Not like forgetting. Just gentle, careful. A quiet kind of reverence.

You press out the creases with your palms. Smooth the fabric like it’s skin. Like it’ll wrinkle if you look at it too hard.

Then you hang it.

Not deep in the closet, not hidden. Just inside the door where you could still reach for it, if you needed to.

You do that a lot.

Not need. Not want. Just reach.

The call wasn’t planned. It’s not even brave. Just an impulse. A moment where your thumb hovers over that name and you press down before you can talk yourself out of it.

Debbie Grayson.

It rings once, twice and then came her voice.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You freeze. You didn’t know how much you missed being called that. How much you missed her warm voice.

The conversation is short. Gentle. Careful in all the places that still hurt. You talk about the weather, groceries, some show she’s watching. You tell her your heater’s been acting up and Debbie says she’ll send someone.

The call went quiet for a few seconds. You could hear a bird outside her window, maybe. The soft clink of glass.

“How are you… really?” she asked gently.

“Fine.”

Too quick and too flat but a he didn’t challenge it.

“Me too,” she said. A pause. “Liar.”

You laughed once. It came out quiet, bitter.

“Still keeping his jacket out?” she asked.

You nodded before realizing she couldn’t see you. Coughing in your hand you whispered, “Yeah.”

Debbie hummed. “Me too. It’s his hoodie, though. The one with the dumb band on it.”

You smile. “He loved that one.”

“He stank in that one,” she corrected, and you laughed again, this time without choking on it. “Wouldn’t let me wash it for two weeks.”

“He said that ruins the ‘vibe’” you added.

“I swear, he made up half of his vocabulary.”

You fall into silence again but this time, it doesn’t feel crushing. Just familiar.

Debbie sighs softly.

“If he could’ve called… he would have.”

You know what she means. You also know it doesn’t help. But you’re glad she said it anyway.

“I know,” you whisper. And before you hang up, her voice goes soft.

“Call me anytime if you need anything, okay?”

„Okay.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Debbie hangs up and you’re left alone again. But not quite the same.

You say you would call. You both know you won’t.

After that call, your hands are shaking. You go to the bathroom. Not because you need to but because it’s something to do.

The faucet hisses. The water runs warm.

You scrub your hands harder than you need to. Focus on the spaces between your fingers, the creases in your palm. Like if you scrub hard enough, maybe you’ll find something still yours underneath it all.

When it happens, it doesn’t feel like a breakdown.

It’s not messy. It’s not loud. You don’t drop anything. You don’t scream.

You’re just staring at the sink. At your own reflection in the mirror. You don’t recognize the girl looking back.

She’s too still, too tired. Her eyes are lifeless, hair messy, lips chapped and—

Not you.

And suddenly, the weight of your own body feels like too much to carry.

Your knees fold before your heart does. You sit on the floor, palms flat to the tile, breath shallow. The water still running behind you.

Your chest stays quiet but your eyes don’t.

It’s not the ugly kind. No heaving, no sobbing, no gasping for air like you thought heartbreak was supposed to look like.

It’s just tears.

Fast. Full. Final.

You don’t stop them. You don’t wipe them away. You let them fall. Don’t curse them. Don’t name it healing. Because it doesn’t feel like healing. It just feels like staying.

Still here. Still.

You crawl to the couch eventually. Turn off the faucet. Leave the light on.

The pen’s still on the counter. The jacket’s still by the door. The box stays closed in the closet. The chair is empty. But you’re not… not really.

You sit in the same corner of the couch where Mark used to throw his legs across your lap. Rest your head on the same pillow he once stole for himself.

You breathe.

And in the stillness—in the ache, in the quiet, in the thing that doesn’t have a name yet—you can’t help but think that,

Mark was always good at leaving… you just never got better at staying.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌The rain had stopped hours ago, but the ground still glistened.

Mud clung to his boots. Blood dried in thin lines along his ribs. The air smelled like iron, smoke, and burnt-out stars.

Mark didn’t feel any of it.

He sat still and quiet. Shoulders hunched beneath the battered weight of his suit. Eyes unfocused. Breathing steady, but shallow like he didn’t want to take up space. Like he didn’t deserve to.

He’d stopped keeping track of time weeks ago. Or maybe months.

There was no sun where he’d been—no moon, no clock, no human-made markers to tell him whether the world still turned without him.

He guessed it did. It always did.

The cold crept in first, through his gloves, up his spine, but he didn’t shiver. He hadn’t in a long time. Everything about him was different now.

Everything except…

His hand moved, slow but careful. Fingers brushed against the hidden seam in his suit—just under the chest area, where fabric frayed from wear and war.

Mark peeled it back. And there it was.

A folded square of photo paper. Faded at the corners. Edges curled with time and sweat and memory. He unfolded it with the kind of care he didn’t show to anything else anymore.

The Polaroid was creased, smudged, soft in places where his thumb had held it too long. But your face—your face was still there.

Captured in half-light and joy.

One of those accidental shots, mid-laugh, hair messy, your eyes looking somewhere off-frame like someone just said something ridiculous and you couldn’t help but smile.

He didn’t even remember who took it. Just that you hadn’t wanted to keep it and he had.

He kept it when he left. He kept it through everything. Buried it in the lining of his suit like it was armor. Like if he held it close enough, he wouldn’t forget how you looked when you were happy.

When you were his.

Mark stared at it now like it could answer for everything. For the silence, the distance, the cowardice.

He’d nearly lost it once.

The suit got torn in some place he didn’t have a name for. He hadn’t even noticed the rip until hours later, bleeding from the mouth and limping through someone else’s wreckage.

When he found it again—caught in the lining, damp but whole—he almost broke. He’d never let it out of his sight again.

Now, it rested against his palm like a heartbeat.

His fingers trembled, not from the cold, not even from the pain. Just from you.

He looked at your face the way you might look at something holy. Not like forgiveness but like the memory of it. And then, quietly, so quiet it almost didn’t leave his lips, he whispered your name. It came out soft and only once.

Like prayer. Like penance.

He tucked the photo back where it belonged. Right over his heart. Pressed the seam shut like it was a secret.

Then Mark stood.

And didn’t look back.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌With Love, @alive-gh0st

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sasahuaa · 3 months ago

Note

I’m very sorry, I know that you have just uploaded Omega Idia’s writing but you have more thoughts about him or Vil? I really would like to know what you think, I adore the omegas and not many people are willing to write for them

Don't feel pressure to respond, it’s fine if you don’t want to. Have a lovely night ✨

i was going to use this as an excuse to post my “omegas dealing with wife plots” bc you know, i am delaying this for six months already and it would be two rabbits with one rock kind of situation, but i thought better i guess, very late response too haha

Omega!Idia is the type of boyfriend who programm websites on special days, he makes those types of websites that ask you questions like “will you be my forever mate?” “go on a date with me?”, but anytime you try to press “no” the button runs away from you.

He will melt if you make a papercraft action figure of a character he likes, literally would place it in a shrine if he had the chance, he can feel all the love in the craft and just that is almost enough to send him into heat.

Omega!Idia is not picky on how you spend time together, he loves quality time, but sometimes his social battery is too exhausted to really interact, he may be tinkling with his projects while you stay in the background, reading most recent updates of books and comics he enjoys, play cozy games together when he feels like not putting too much effort, or more strategic games that require more skill, though he gets embarrassed afterwards if he crashes out too much in front of you.

Since he has an idea on how his future is going to be, he begins to prepare to make space for you. Even when he could hire you into S.T.Y.X through nepotism, he is diligent in teaching you the basics of engineering, however, he could always find another job within the organization for you, if you're not interested in this part of the line of work. Idia also assures you that he is able to be the provider, “let me worry about the rest, you just stay there and be sexy” or so he says.

Omega!Vil prepares little gifts for you, everything he does has a touch of perfection, so nothing better to gift you than something that was made by his hands or had his input during creation. He is most proud of creating scent blockers that are an almost perfect copy of your smell. Vil is not a fan of how open you are with your emotions through your scent, so he insists that you use it in public - he will be offended if you wear it during your private time with him though.

It's pretty hard to choose a gift for him, Vil is picky and anything he wants he can get. He is, however, a great admirer of effort, serve him your heart on a plate and he will forever be trapped around your finger.

Omega!Vil really wishes to be the last to leave the stage, when he is feeling particularly down for never acquiring his desired roles, he likes to roleplay with you. He will be a prince, and you a loyal knight, he takes hours rambling about worldbuilding and lore. And the final scenes end with both of you living happily ever after, as it should be.

Vil knows the world can't ever remain static, but for you, he wishes that was possible. You are his little world, able to fit in the palm of his hands, enveloped in a little bubble where no one can judge nor intervene, no bad eyes to mouth curses to you. If he could, this would be his forever. At the same time, he has plans to forever be a public figure, where his only obstacle is himself and his ideals, night after night, he thinks how to soften the blow of your relationship going public. It's no matter though, as long as you stay with him, Vil will find a way.

#omega!idia #omega!vil #idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #vil x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland x reader #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #alpha!reader

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copperbadge · 5 months ago

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ADHD and (Communications) Productivity

Recently @goodnightmoonvale hit me up by email to ask about some of my processes for keeping myself from getting snowed under when it comes to digital communication. The main question was about finding ways to ensure that you stay in touch with people and, at work, give updates in a timely manner.

I sent back a long email about the systems I use, then asked if I could post up my response publicly as well, since a couple of other people both online and in brickspace have asked me similar questions. I've cleaned it up a little and included it below -- although I feel just slightly weird about posting it since admittedly outside of work I am still not fantastic about prompt responses to email.

Still, I feel like it's good to share this stuff -- I think people take away what they can from this kind of post, and it's nice when something works. So here's what I wrote, tidied up a bit for posting.

SHORT VERSION

When I have a backlog in email or asks or similar -- as I often do -- I set aside a time, between 15 minutes and an hour depending on how I'm feeling, to do "communication rotation". I open up every inbox I need to respond to in a separate tab, and crucially these are the ONLY tabs open -- I set up a new browser window if I have to.

So I have a browser open and I have tabs within the browser -- Gmail, Tumblr Askbox, AO3 Inbox, etcetera. If you have Discord you might open the DMs in Discord to see if you have ones to respond to there. If it helps, you can create a bookmark file of "inboxes" so you can open them all at once every time. Sometimes I have multiple browsers open so that I can have multiple Gmail inboxes (personal, fandom, work) open at once.

Then I cycle through them, answering messages in one inbox until I feel like I can't anymore, and I move on to the next one. I try to set a goal -- say, five messages from each platform, or one "difficult" message that I've been putting off per platform. Or trying to get every inbox down to under 20 messages that need response, or similar.

The goal is not to answer every single message, but to attack the mountain. If you find you're skipping one inbox because only the really hard-to-respond-to messages are left, close out the other inboxes and just focus on replying to ONE hard-to-respond-to message, then get up and walk away and give yourself a treat. Maybe come back and start again in ten minutes, maybe you're done for the day. The point is to reduce the backlog little by little while still retaining enough energy to respond to new things as they come in, so they don't add to the backlog.

There may be a better way for some people -- maybe some people would do better to pick one platform each time and just deep focus on that one, for example. I always say that people need to find what works for them, but the attitude in this case is what's important -- not "Gotta do it all now" but "Little bit now helps me later".

NOW, for the long version that's more work focused!

LONG VERSION

Responding to people and keeping them updated are two different things, and I think there's an implicit third thing, which is "making sure I make time to respond to messages". So in sequence what you need to figure out how to do is:

1. Set up your workflow so that you are consistently reminded to read and respond to email.

2. Respond in a timely and appropriate manner to email.

3. Set up your workflow so that you are reminded to provide update emails as you progress in various projects.

So for 1, only you know what will trigger you to consistently read and answer email. For me, I just constantly have my work email open on one monitor (I have two) and whenever a new email comes in I see it. Sometimes I need to use both monitors for other things, and for that reason the only email notifications I get on my phone are work email notifications*. So if I'm working on something and my phone nearby dings, I know it's probably important, and I see what it is fairly quickly.

* Reader, if you have ADHD and have not tried turning off all but the most necessary phone notifications, I do recommend trying it. For some it might be difficult or even counterproductive, but for me, it helps enormously with brain fog and executive function. The only notifications I get on my phone are text messages, work emails, and alarms. Nothing from social media, nothing from retail or game or banking apps. Zippo.

Once I'm aware I have a new email, before I read it, I decide: do I want to read and reply to this now? If not, if I'm in the groove of something else, I leave the email unread, so that it's there nagging at me when I'm done with whatever I'm doing. If I'm in a good place to break, I open the email -- but only if I have concluded that I will respond to it immediately if response is needed.

This is a difficult habit to form. It may not work for some people. The key is to figure out what will a) draw your attention to new email, b) allow you to decide whether to read it, and c) respond if you do read it.

2 ("respond in a timely and appropriate manner") is actually the easiest of the three steps in my opinion because you don't always have to have all the answers at once. I sometimes fall into the pit of "I can't respond unless I have a full answer or a finished assignment" and have to pull myself back out. It helps that I have become master of the "acknowledgement email" -- basically if you open an email and you can't answer the questions in it immediately, or if you can't work on the assignment that moment, you fire off a quick email just to let them know you've received the message and are working on it.

For this, I have several stock phrases such as "Thanks for the email! Let me look into this a little further and I'll get back to you" or "Sure, I can get that done in [timeframe]." Importantly, if they have not given you a deadline, it's SUPER helpful to say, "I'll have this to you by [reasonable date in your opinion] -- if you need it sooner please let me know ASAP so I can prioritize it." (or "If you need it sooner let's discuss the scope of the project, since I have a lot on my plate.")

You then need to make sure that you do the task in the allotted time, but that's a different ballgame -- we're focusing here on responding and updating.

People, truly, just want to know that you've seen their request and are working on it, and just sending that email goes a long way towards giving the impression that you are a prompt responder and strong communicator. Also if you have any questions ("before I proceed, can I ask") now is the time to ask them since that puts responsibility back on them to provide information before you go further and possibly waste your time.

3 ("Set up your workflow so that you are reminded to provide update emails") is where I struggle, because it's not just about remembering to Do The Thing, you have to also remember to update the person on the thing. The way I do this is to use my inbox not as a temporary repository for new emails but as a to-do list. Until a task is complete, the email regarding it does not leave my inbox (see next paragraph for exceptions). If it's important I might even mark it unread (despite having replied to it) so that it "bugs" me when I look at my inbox.

If I have replied and can't go further until I get a response, I might file the email in a folder. I make a new folder for work every month, so for example any requests from February are in the 2025-02 folder, and for big projects with multiple emails I make a folder like "2025 Holiday Cards" or "2025 Database Audit". Since there's nothing I can do until the person hits me back, it doesn't need to stay in my "to do" inbox -- when they email back it'll get moved there anyway. However, if I have replied and need a response but can work on other aspects of the task, even if I'm not going to immediately, I leave it in my inbox. That way, whenever I'm concerned I've forgotten something, I can check my inbox and see all the stuff I need to either reply to or update people on.

I also use Google Tasks to run my life, and have it open in a sidebar next to my email, so any task I should be working on is generally noted there as well, but that goes back to the "make sure you do the tasks promptly" which again is a different issue.

CASE STUDY

So, say someone asks me for a spreadsheet on Monday. I reply "Thanks, I'll have this for you by end of day Friday, let me know if you need it sooner." They don't respond so I assume Friday is fine for my purposes. I leave the request email in my inbox and start work on the task OR I put the task in my Google Tasks with "Due Friday EOD" on it. (Sometimes I do both.)

I work on the project all week and by Wednesday I've made reasonable progress but haven't heard back from the person who asked for it. Around the end of day Wednesday, I might open the thread again and send a quick email saying "Hey, I'm making good headway on this, still on track to have it to you EOD Friday." Or I might have a question, and shoot that off. For some people, you get a feel of whether or not they need that kind of update. I don't do this for, say, my super laid-back boss, but I do for the head of Data who definitely wants status updates.

On Friday, I open that same email thread as the original request (for consistency) and send them the finished product. At that point I know I'm done with the task so I can shift the email into my 2025-02 archive for good. All the communication is in one place, and it's neatly filed away, so I no longer have to worry about it.

CONCLUSION

The ultimate point is that you want to develop a system for your own personal use that reminds you to check email frequently, helps you respond immediately when you read an email, and reminds you to send updates as they're needed. Maybe that's alarms instead of Google Tasks, or a calendar app, or a handwritten to-do list in place of keeping stuff in your inbox. The point is to know what will cue you to do things you wouldn't do naturally, then implement those -- and change them if they stop working. What I wrote above is my system, but it's mostly demonstrating the framework I used to build it, which is what I hope other people will also find useful.

#sam has adhd #adhd #coping mechanisms #organizational systems

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chaoticbardlady99 · 5 months ago

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LADS Men Big 3

Recent thoughts about the LADS men and their zodiac signs.

Caleb is a Gemini and my fiance is a Gemini, but they could not be more different so I began thinking, “I wonder what their moon and rising would be?” So-

Disclaimer- this is just my opinion based on my knowledge and is NOT LAW! Also not proofread well.

All five boys are mentioned 🥸🌸💕💗

UPDATE WITH THEORY ON 6TH LI IN REBLOG

Sylus

☀️ Aries, ⬆️ Scorpio, 🌙Libra

Sylus has that very classic, thrill seeking, dominant leadership energy that Aries has, but I feel like he presents as a Scorpio. Scorpio men are rather mysterious, dark, magnetic. You are pulled to them as if by instinct.

However, his moon is Libra. Sylus desires justice (his anecdote and his general morals show as much) and he genuinely does have a lot of love. His heart (or desires) guide his decisions and Libra’s are ruled by Venus.

Sylus is sensitive and romantic in spite of how he presents himself, but as he grows more comfortable, that soft, gentle side that desires balance really begins to show. He is patient- the definition of “love is patient, love is kind”. He may seem rigid and overly stubborn, but he is ultimately willing to go with the flow provided he isn’t crossing his own boundaries- even then, he’s able to communicate his boundaries in a way that is effective and authoritative without having to scream to make his point.

He doesn’t see any reason to beat around the bush when there is so much life to see and love together- fights typically last less than ten minutes and it’s because he doesn’t rise to the occasion. He knows when your nervous system calms down that you will be able to have a good conversation without either’s feelings being hurt.

It’s uncomfortable to love Sylus at first because it’s healthy- but he’s patient and straightforward and you’re worth the wait.

Although he is sweet and is great with words, Sylus can also use these words to hurt and sometimes he a joke may come across as too harsh. Communication and boundaries is key- if you tell him your feelings are hurt, he takes that very seriously and becomes more mindful with his teasing in the future.

Zayne

☀️Virgo, ⬆️Capricorn, 🌙Scorpio

Virgo men are very controlled and can be very controlling- however- Zayne presents with (in my opinion) more emotional control than a Virgo, hence the rising Capricorn.

To the world, he is hard working, careful, an overachiever and essentially a God. Zayne is rigid and needs routine to maintain emotional control. He knows his limits and he knows what will make him lose control (alcohol), but when he lets go, that inner scorpion- the emotional depth and desire for intimacy and intuition comes out. Zayne, when he allows himself to lose control, is someone you could drown in and still never truly find the depth of him. When he loves, he loves hard.

Zayne also loves people completely to the point where it consumes him. He became a doctor for you for God’s sake. When it comes to someone he loves- he believes nothing is impossible and he will do anything he can, work as hard as he can, to keep you healthy and safe- even to his own detriment some time. He definitely needs you to remind him that he is not superhuman and the whole world is not his to carries. It’s hard for him to stop and remember to prioritize your relationship over work, but if you bring it up, he will make sure to be more mindful (and may need to be reminded again- it’s a busy life).

Caleb

☀️Gemini, ⬆️ Aquarius, 🌙Virgo

This Golden retriever man is just a German Shepard in disguise. He is very much a Gemini in the fact that he has duality in his personality and he is capable of switching back and forth between them. When he loves someone, they are really the closest person he needs in his life hence MC (or you) being both his best friend and partner. Caleb is ride or die- no matter how hard or messy life gets, he is going to remain right by your side and help you float when you begin to sink.

Caleb presents himself as an Aquarius- he wears a mask for those around him (except you), but to others he is unemotional, forward thinking, a catalyst for change, and has a strong sense of justice- which I think is what makes his inner Virgo come out harder with the events of the game.

Virgo moons NEED control and can become incredibly possessive- however- they are also sensitive, analytic, and their love language is often acts of service. Caleb bends over backwards to make sure you are taken care of and have everything you need. At this point, to him, your safety and relationship is the only thing he has control over and the more that is tested, the tighter that grip becomes. He is fiercely protective of you and even though he has good intentions, he is sometimes blind to the damage it causes. However, if you tell him you feel suffocated, he is willing to back off and compromise- Life360 is a must. The idea of losing you shatters him and if he actually did lose you? Well, that would be fatal.

Rafayel

☀️Pisces, ⬆️ Leo, 🌙 Sagittarius

Sweet, sweet, sassy Rafayel- the sweetest Pisces boy 💙 he is emotional and follows his heart. He feels most loved when he has your one on one attention. He is the classic Pisces archetype of creativity, hopeless romantic, and loyal. Rafayel, much like Pisces, just wants one soulmate and that’s why he will always search for you- no matter what life time. Occasionally he can fall into the trap that is escapism (sleeping mostly), but you are always there with him to keep him steady through the storm.

Rafayel wants to be the center of his love’s attention, but wants to be passively famous- he likes knowing his artwork is a big deal, but he doesn’t care for the confinement it often brings. You allow him to perform and show off and be authentic- a luxury he doesn’t get with anyone else. He is, however, a jealous person and he is not afraid to let you know when he’s upset (Whales growing legs sound familiar?) However, he is quick to apologize and doesn’t necessarily enjoy conflict.

He is someone who has a wild, passionate soul and he enjoys exploring to create. Rafayel doesn’t like to be held down and stagnant, but he also wants the comfort of home which is why your relationship is so wonderful. He finally has someone to travel with who also keeps him grounded. However, he can sometimes become a little too dependent on you, just a littttleee forgetful, and what do you mean you left the water bottles back at the hotel!?

Xavier

☀️Libra, ⬆️ Cancer, 🌙Taurus

Xavier seeks balance and has a strong sense of social justice. He loves to love and when he truly loves someone, he is never going to let that person go. He doesn’t enjoy verbal altercations and prefers to solve things calmly and rationally instead (if possible) and if he is not the one feeling emotionally dysregulated. The ugly side of love is jealousy and oh boy- this is a jealous man. However, that’s not always a bad thing 😏 Xavier is receptive if his jealousy begins to upset you and he may need lots of reassurance, but with communication, time, and patience, he eventually begins to trust that he is enough for you as he is.

He is a homebody- the sleepiest space bunny. It’s important for him to have a home base and he would prefer to spend a holiday at home than go out and explore (when him and MC fell asleep during touring love? Adorable). Xavier is a great listener and reflector- he’s pretty good about not offering solutions when you just need comfort, but he struggles to talk about his own feelings which can become frustrating. He needs encouragement and reminders that his feelings and needs matter too.

Xavier is stubborn and once he sets his mind on something, he is meticulous and slow in crafting his plans so that they can be executed perfectly. Sometimes it’s frustrating because he can become very secretive with his plans- he doesn’t want any of the pieces to be out of place. You’re the only one he trusts.

He is super duper touchy, loyal, and will work himself until he passes out (literally).

*I do not own the pictures or the characters talked about in this post*

All likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated!

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xylatox · 3 months ago

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꒰⋆.˚ 𝕱𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝕱𝖎𝖈𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝕬𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖑 𖹭.ᐟ.ᐟ꒱

adeline's ✉ 〃hello (❁´◡`❁) I have decided to now just pick out my overall favourite fics of the month instead of including ever piece I've read! Anyways, please support the authors and their work (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

Half-Smoked Cigarettes // @faeyun

pairing // lee heeseung x f!reader

synopsis // the last thing you were expecting when taking a smoke outside was to see someone trying to sneakily cut flowers off your mom’s bushes in the front of your house in the middle of the night—nor were you expecting to become so enamored by him, either. and it seemed that the feeling was completely mutual.

✉︎ // Kipo's fic back on tumblr :) it was honestly so nice to read her work again and it was such a good and funny read

Chemtrails // @heechwe

pairing // jung wonwoo x f!reader

synopsis // Wonwoo is the last person you expect to find at a grief support group, but he may just be the peace that you need to weather all of your storms.

✉︎ // I ugly cried from begin to end reading this. I loved the mc in particular as she really reminded me of myself at the beginning of my grieving period

blurring the lines // @amourcheol

pairing // joshua hong x f!reader

synopsis // you think you know everything about your best friend, dashing bachelor joshua hong. when you stumble upon his suggestive literature from his recent travels, however, reading even an extract is enough to make you question everything. unsure of your newfound feelings, you turn to your confidante, unaware of just how much knowledge—and experience—he has to offer.

✉︎ // the start of fia's bridgerton series. I literally love her work so much and since I finished Bridgerton earlier in the year, this just brought me so much joy.

To: Someone From A Warm Climate // @hyukascampfire

pairing // faerie!taehyun, faerie!yeonjun x f!reader

synopsis // In which 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗓𝗓𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾. "𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂 𝖺𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾, 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇'𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎?" 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗎𝗉 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍, 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗉. "𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗂𝗍," 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗌. "say what i am."

✉︎ // Will love this series till the day i die. Ashlynn updated and it was literally the best day ever then to read this.

Nine and Three Quarters // @just-nc-tea

pairing // park sunghoon x f!reader

synopsis // Somehow, in the middle of your semester break, you ended up with a new roommate. Your landlord rented out the second room in your flat without telling you, and now you’re living with Sunghoon. At first, your paths barely cross – you’re buried in work, and he’s always at the rink. But slowly, he slips into your routine in ways you never expected. Then one night, everything shifts. A blurred memory, a moment of fear—and Sunghoon catching you before you can fall. Suddenly, it’s not awkward anymore. You start looking forward to him coming home. Maybe—just maybe—home isn’t a place. Maybe it’s a person

✉︎ // Patty's Sunghoon fic :((( I swear I literally screamed when they finally started being more than roommates/friends. The slow-burn did in fact slow burn (I loved it so much)

things i know that i can't have // @zreamy

pairing // jake sim x f!reader

synopsis // jake's life was hard enough before he fell for you—balancing uni, football, and being a good christian son. in some cruel twist of fate, sleeping with you has only made things harder—and, according to sunghoon (and scripture), damned him to hell the first time he thought about it.

✉︎ // I will literally always love fics where christianity plays a role, its super duper comforting to me and i feel like jake is the perfect choice for this kind of thing

Invisible String // @heesmiles

pairing // soulmate!sunghoon x f!reader

synopsis // They say when someone you love dies it takes a piece of who you were and a piece of who you were going to be. You met the love of your life the day you died; and it took something from you. It changed who you were and you don’t know if you’d ever want it back. Sunghoon was tied to you, two tangled souls connected by one invisible red string but you didn’t know it, until it was too late.

✉︎ // this fic sent me to hell and back emotionally. I kid you not the angst was so unreal but i loved every minute of this fic.

Criminal Conscience // @beomiracles

pairing // criminal!beomgyu x detective!reader

synopsis // Moving rapidly through your career as one of the leading female investigators, you never once encountered a case you couldn't crack. Though you never expected for your past mistakes to come back and haunt you in the form of an ex lover, accused of murder.

✉︎ // cc sundays ヾ(≧▽≦*)o I always look forward to when serene updates this series, it literally brings me life. It also heavily reminds me of my true crime media that I consumed 100% of the time before i started reading fics more

no doubt - the series //@jakesimfromstatefarm

pairing // no doubt!jake x no doubt!reader

synopsis // a series of drabbles that look into the first year of jake & y/n's relationship after she decides to give him a second chance...aka jake being an absolute total whipped simp for her but in the most endearing way possible <3

✉︎ // literally anytime addie publishes a drabble I'm so giddy because of just how downbad jake is. hes literally the cutest, they are the cutest.

Checking You Out // @jakedustry

pairing // hockey captain!Jake x f!reader

synopsis // In which Jake Sim loves hockey, he loves it so much he is willing to spend his every free minute on the ice skating, but he also finds himself falling in love with you—the only girl his coach doesn't want him to date. But with the way you look at him, can he stay far enough to keep his position as the captain?

✉︎ // I loved every single minute of this. mc'd dad was stressing me out so bad ngl but god i love simp!jake so much

Daffodils // @yunverie

pairing // best friend!Choi Soobin x f!reader

synopsis // To you, the bond of soulmates was as sacred and divine as a delicate flower. Growing up, you had watched your parents bask in a love so grand, drawn together by the cruel yet beautiful trial of flowers and ink. You dreamed of your own bond one day awakening, of finding the one destined for you.

Until you didn’t.

One vicious prank was all it took to crush the seedlings of your young heart. The idea of soulmates began to sicken you—no longer a dream, but a wound.

Soobin had always gathered your broken pieces, helping you reassemble what was torn apart. The time you spent closing your heart to love, he spent his trying to cup the love that only grew for you with both hands—trying to keep it from spilling over. And one day, that love blossomed into soft, bright daffodils, nestling deep within his chest.

✉︎ // Yun's rewritten Soobin fic :( I had the pleasure of reading the first version but I absolutely loved the things she added to the plot. I really do love a good soulmate au.

Secrets // @theothernads

pairing // Boxer!Jungwon x f!rich!reader

synopsis // After making it to university, you found yourself finding comfort in a cat café worker not too far from your lectures. The cute worker seemed to have a knack for making you fall for his charm. And, how could you not? Your chemistry was perfect- but you never thought that he had secrets and that Jungwon was your secret as well. As much as you two tried to keep everything behind the scenes, things don't always work out the way they should

✉︎ // I truly loved this :( it was so emotional, intense and just downright amazing. The angst and class differences really had me going through it.

What Remains The Same // @dawngyu

pairing // choi beomgyu x single-parent!reader

synopsis // On the hardest, most terrifying day of your life, when your body is tearing open and everything feels like it’s coming undone, his name is the only one your heart remembers to call for.

✉︎ // Another fic that had me absolutely ugly-sob. I went in thinking one thing and left with a heart full (of tears) and what I believed was a plot twist I didn expect. I truly loved this.

Frostbite // @heesmiles

pairing // hockey player!sunghoon x figure skater!reader

synopsis // Sunghoon’s injury was comparable to the end of the world, at least for him it was. Having not been cleared in time to start practice with his team, Sunghoon is stuck practicing alone after hours, except he's not alone. Forced to share the rink with the practicing figure skaters was his version of hell, especially when one of them couldn't shut up about the fact that the world was their oyster and taking a positive look on life was the only way to live? How could he be positive when the only thing that made him happy was taken away from him. She had felt like frostbite sinking into his skin. Frostbite was quick, it stung and then it killed before you could even see it coming.

✉︎ // I love when some part of me can relate to fics, whether is the mc or how anyone else is written, it always feels extra special to me then. This took a part of me as I loved how realistic Sunghoon's feelings toward his injury was portrayed. I just also really love the whole grumpy x sunshine dynamic

adeline's ending ✉ 〃and these were my fav fics! a mix of laughs and cries, but each and every one was a piece that got my through the month. Again, please always show your love and share your thoughts with the authors, it means alot to them. Till next time! (❁´◡`❁)

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