#like almost no matter what emotion he’s feeling. he’s smiling

[personapeters]

✰ 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐣 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

— kook or pogue; doesn’t matter, simply your sweet boyfriend, jj

rating: sfw — cw: slightly suggestive

— boyfriend jj who… insists on physically lifting you into and out of the boat every time, or at the very least holding your hands. the one time you leapt out when his back was turned, you lost your footing and almost tumbled into the water, to which jj was very displeased: “alright, nope, see, that’s why we don’t do that.”

— boyfriend jj who… thinks you’re the funniest person on the planet — the way he cackles at every joke you tell makes you question if it’s forced, or exaggerated at the least, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. your humor matches his so perfectly that everything you say or do he only wishes he would have thought of first. the two of you are constantly a nonstop giggling mess full of silly inside jokes and plain stupidity.

— boyfriend jj who… thrives off of long hugs with you; specifically when it feels more like you’re just holding him. hiding his face in your neck and breathing you in calms his nerves in a way that smoking weed never could.

— boyfriend jj who… is absolutely mesmerized by everything you do; whether that be your makeup (he thinks you’re the artist and the art), or simply steering the boat (the way the wind blows in your hair and the sun highlights each and every shade is unreal). he often finds himself completely zoned out of reality with soft blue eyes as he marvels in awe at everything that is you. he's often chewing the inside of his lip as he stares, quickly averting his gaze to his hands when you look his way, though it’s always so obvious.

— boyfriend jj who… loves when you come to watch him surf, though it’s stressful watching him disappear under the waves for what feels like minutes at a time. but, without fail, he always ends up running to you with a big, toothy smile as he wraps a cold, muscular arm around your waist, pressing wet, salty lips to yours as he beams with excitement: “babe, did you fuckin’ see that?!”

— boyfriend jj who… isn’t too good at saying ‘i love you’ but shows it in everything he does: plucking you random flowers (and weeds, though he doesn’t know that), fixing your top as you chat amongst friends, keeping a hair tie on his wrist because he just knows you’re going to need one, always keeping physical touch with you in some way (absentmindedly twirling your hair, resting your legs on his lap, holding your hand, leaning on your shoulder).

— boyfriend jj who… tries to contain his himself but is more than willing to get in a fight when it comes to you; whether it be one too many comments made about you in order to taunt him or another man’s hand lingering on yours for way too long, jj is quick to set things straight no matter who it puts him up against.

— boyfriend jj who… gets jealous very easily but tries his hardest to control it. before you started dating, he would simply avert his attention or walk away from any situation involving you and a guy, knowing he shouldn’t be jealous but he couldn’t help it. now that you’re officially his, his emotion is worn clearly on his face.

— boyfriend jj who… falls asleep virtually anywhere, as long as you were around. he hates it, obviously wanting to be awake when he’s with you, but the feeling of genuine comfort and safety you give him is nothing like he’d ever felt at home, or anywhere, so he often finds his head on your lap or shoulder, fighting a slumber.

— boyfriend jj who… likes to take off his cap and place it backwards on your head whenever you’re making out, always laughing into the kiss whenever it inevitably falls over your eyes.

— boyfriend jj who… noticed your awestruck reaction to once finding the ‘perfect’ seashell in the sand and now brings you the prettiest, shiniest, most perfect seashells he can find — no matter who it inconveniences: “dude, it’s been, like, twenty minutes! can’t we just buy one somewhere?” pope groaned. “yeah, let me get a fake i.d. and forge a check, too, since we’re frauds now,” jj scoffed.

— boyfriend jj who… has absolutely no filter so he often just says things that you then have to somehow answer for: “is your hair supposed to look like that?” he’d wonder aloud innocently. “jj!” you’d whisper before clearing your throat, “he just means did you have to use any product or-or anything or is it naturally so pretty?”

— boyfriend jj who… remembers all the little things about you, despite his forgetful and oblivious nature, often taking you by surprise when he mentions them: “nah, you won’t like that, s’got peanut butter in it.” or "wait, the same girl who kicked down your sandcastle in third grade? i hate that bitch. sorry, sorry, continue.”

— boyfriend jj who… let’s you fiddle with the numerous rings and bracelets adorning his hands whenever you want, knowing it’s a calming distraction whenever you’re anxious. often times, you’ll be sitting with his large hand on your lap, twisting and pulling at the metal around his fingers as he chatted amongst his friends, completely unfazed by your fidgeting — he’s used to (and loves) it.

— boyfriend jj who… carves the both of your initials into the trunks of numerous tree’s across the island, whether it’s one on the side of a busy street or in the depths of a secluded wood — he likes knowing that you’re etched permanently everywhere.

 personapeters 2025 — all rights reserved • masterlist

[sophsbookstore]

New Beginnings

Quinn Hughes x reader ｡･:*˚:✧｡

Word Count: 3225

A/N: HE'S HERE!! Shout out to the anon who gave the name idea, and thank you to everyone who sent ideas (I wrote them down for future use, don't worry!)

also I wanted to get this out fast so apologies for no banner, but enjoy this gif!

Masterlist can be found here!

The soft, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound breaking the quiet stillness of the hospital room. The small room, once sterile and impersonal, had transformed into something so much warmer in the hours since your son had arrived. The windows let in a gentle stream of moonlight, casting a calming glow over the room. The air smelled faintly of lavender from the small bottle of essential oil you’d brought from home, a small comfort in this strange, sterile place. The bed, with its crisp white linens and worn quilted blanket, was a far cry from the chaos of labor, but now it was filled with love.

Quinn sat beside you, his large frame almost swallowing the space beside you as he held your newborn son in his arms. His baby boy. His son. The words still felt surreal, even hours after the birth. The emotions that coursed through you—the love, the overwhelming sense of joy, the tender affection for the little being Quinn was gently cradling in his arms—were beyond words.

Quinn looked down at his son with such tenderness, his eyes full of awe as he gazed at the tiny life in his arms. His son, with a head of soft, dark hair and tiny hands that seemed too small to belong to such a big world. Quinn couldn’t stop smiling, and neither could you, though you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell in your chest as you watched him.

"He's perfect," Quinn whispered, his voice barely more than a soft breath. His fingers gently stroked the baby’s cheek, a movement so tender it almost felt like he was afraid to touch him too much, as if he were afraid of breaking something so precious.

You could only nod, your eyes brimming with tears as you took in the sight of your family—your little family—finally together. You hadn’t expected it to feel like this. You thought you understood love, you thought you understood what it meant to have someone in your life who mattered more than anything else. But this? This was something else entirely. Your son was here, and with him, a whole new world had opened up.

“I can’t believe he’s finally here,” you whispered, your voice raw with emotion. The pain of labor still a distant memory now that your son was in your arms, but the rush of feelings that came with becoming a mother, of seeing Quinn as a father, was all-consuming.

Quinn’s eyes flickered toward you, his gaze soft and full of admiration. He shifted, making sure your son was safe in his arms as he leaned closer to you. “He’s so small. I can’t believe we made him.”

You smiled, your hand reaching out to rest on his arm, the touch gentle and comforting. “He’s perfect, Quinn. Just like you.”

He chuckled softly, though there was no real humor in the sound. Instead, there was awe. “You really think so?”

You nodded, the smile not leaving your face. “I do. He looks just like you, you know.”

Quinn let out a soft laugh, and you could feel the tension in his shoulders relax even more as the moment between the three of you felt almost too perfect to be real. “I don’t know about that. He’s so small, I don’t know if he even has a chance of looking like me. But I hope he gets your smile.” He paused, his eyes falling to the baby in his arms. “I hope he gets your kindness too.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you turned your head to look at Quinn. “You’re going to be such an amazing dad.”

He met your gaze, his eyes soft and full of warmth. “We’re in this together, right? I know I’m gonna screw up sometimes, but I’ll do everything I can to make sure he has the best life possible. Just like you’re gonna be the best mom.” He paused, looking back at the little bundle in his arms, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s lucky to have you.”

The lump in your throat returned, but you swallowed it down, wanting to savor this moment. “He’s lucky to have both of us.” You looked back at your son, his tiny face scrunched up as he slept peacefully in Quinn’s arms. “I can’t believe he’s ours.”

Quinn’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the world outside the hospital room seemed to disappear. It was just the three of you, tucked away in this quiet, safe place. The bond between the two of you had always been strong, but now it felt like it had deepened in a way neither of you had expected. Your love for each other, for this little life you’d created, was unlike anything you’d ever known.

“I’m just so happy he’s here,” Quinn whispered, his voice full of sincerity. “So happy we’re finally parents. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my whole life.”

And in that moment, as you all huddled together in the soft glow of the hospital room, surrounded by the love you’d created, you knew that this was just the beginning. The beginning of a whole new chapter in your life—one that would be filled with challenges, but also so much joy. Because, as Quinn had said, this little one was yours. Your family. And nothing would ever be the same again.

The peaceful calm of the hospital room was disrupted by the sudden buzz of Quinn's phone vibrating on the bedside table. He glanced down at the screen, a small frown of concentration crossing his face as he saw the name flashing across it.

"It's Jack," Quinn murmured, his thumb swiping the screen to answer the text.

You watched as Quinn quickly read the message, his eyes scanning the words before a wide grin slowly spread across his face. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, and you saw the excitement in his eyes. "Jack says everyone’s on their way. My parents, your parents, and Luke. They’re all coming to meet him."

You smiled softly, your heart fluttering in your chest. “That’s so sweet. I’m so glad they can be here.”

Quinn nodded, still smiling as he typed back a quick response, then placed his phone back down. He turned to look at you, his hand resting on your knee. “I’ll let them in when they get here, but we need to put him down for a second, okay? You need to rest for a bit.”

You nodded, though you didn’t want to let go of your baby, even for a moment. But you understood. Quinn had been so gentle, so attentive with him since he was born, and you knew he’d want to be the one to greet everyone and show them the little one.

Carefully, Quinn shifted the baby from his arms, cradling him gently as he placed him in the small bassinet beside your bed. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at the momentary separation, but it was fleeting. You could already feel the warmth of your little family growing stronger with every passing second.

Quinn leaned down and kissed your forehead, squeezing your hand. “I’ll be right back, I just want to make sure everyone’s settled and they don’t overwhelm you.” He gave you one last reassuring smile before walking to the door, opening it just as your parents and his came into the room.

The air in the room shifted as soon as the door opened, the sound of footsteps and the low hum of excited conversation filling the small space. You watched as Quinn's parents, your parents, Jack, and Luke all filed into the room all carrying various blue balloons and baby toys, their faces lighting up as they caught sight of the two of you. It was like a wave of warmth washing over you—this was your family, all here to celebrate the new life you had just welcomed into the world.

Quinn’s mom was the first to reach the bed, her arms open wide as she enveloped you in a tight hug. "Oh, sweetie," she whispered, pulling back to look at you with bright eyes, “I’m so proud of you. He’s beautiful.”

You smiled warmly, hugging her back as she ran a hand over your hair. "Thank you," you replied softly, “we’re so happy he’s finally here.”

Quinn’s dad, standing behind her, stepped forward next, a proud smile plastered across his face as he leaned down to give you a hug. “You both did great. He’s lucky to have parents like you.”

Your own parents were close behind, both of them visibly overwhelmed with emotion as they approached. Your mom was already tearing up as she gave you a gentle hug, holding you a little longer than usual. “He’s so perfect. I can’t believe I’m a grandmother now.”

You giggled softly, feeling a surge of happiness in your chest. “I know, it’s so surreal, but in the best way.”

Your dad, who had been standing back a bit, gave Quinn a hearty slap on the back before coming over to give you a warm hug. “You’re gonna be amazing parents, both of you. We’re so proud.”

Quinn gave his parents a brief hug as well, before turning to Jack and Luke. Jack, who had been practically jumping up and down, immediately pulled Quinn into a bear hug. “Congrats, man,” he said excitedly, clapping his brother’s back. “You’re a dad. Holy crap, I can’t believe it.”

Luke, standing behind Jack, offered a knowing smile and gave you a nod of approval. "Congrats," he added, his voice low but warm.

Jack, after finally letting go of Quinn, immediately moved toward the bassinet where their son lay, his eyes locked on the tiny figure. “Let me see him!” he said, his excitement clear in his voice. The rest of the group followed suit, gathering around the bed, their eyes on the little boy.

“Everyone, this is our son,” you said softly, your voice full of love as you gestured to the baby in the bassinet. “This is Casey Jack Hughes.”

There was a brief pause as everyone took in the name, the soft sounds of admiration filling the room. Then, Jack’s face lit up in pure delight, his eyes wide with happiness as he leaned closer to the baby. “Casey Jack?” He practically shouted. “Oh my God, that’s awesome!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Jack’s excitement. Quinn, standing beside you, wrapped an arm around your shoulders, his eyes warm as he shared a quiet smile with you. You both had kept the name a secret for so long, but now, hearing Jack’s reaction, you couldn’t be more happy with your choice.

“You like it?” you asked, your voice full of affection.

“Like it?” Jack repeated, beaming. “I love it! I’m so honored. Casey Jack—CJ. That’s what I’m gonna call him. CJ, what do you think of that, buddy?” Jack looked down at the baby with a huge grin, his voice turning soft as he spoke to the tiny life in front of him. “Yeah, CJ’s got a nice ring to it.”

You laughed, the warmth in the room filling your heart. “You’re gonna spoil him, aren’t you?”

Jack winked at you, his excitement palpable. “I’m gonna be the best uncle ever. You’re both lucky to have me around.” He looked down at CJ again, his fingers gently brushing the baby’s tiny hand. “What do you think, little guy? You gonna remember me as the coolest uncle when you grow up?”

Quinn, his own heart swelling with joy, leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead before giving his brother a side-eye. “Easy there, Jack. We’re gonna have to make sure he gets some sleep, too, you know?”

Jack just grinned, completely undeterred. “I’ll be gentle, promise. But CJ’s gonna know who his favorite uncle is, right?”

“Definitely,” Quinn said, rolling his eyes fondly. “But let’s give him a minute. He’s still brand new.”

Your parents smiled, their eyes filled with warmth as they took a step back to let Jack have his moment. “You’ve got a great name, little Casey,” your dad added softly, his voice full of pride. “We can’t wait to watch you grow.”

It was overwhelming, in the best way possible—the amount of love that surrounded you and your new family. The world outside felt distant now, as if everything had fallen into place in this tiny hospital room. There would be challenges ahead, but in this moment, you felt at peace. You were surrounded by family, you had the love of Quinn, and your son, Casey, was already so deeply cherished by everyone.

Quinn squeezed your hand, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “This is just the beginning,” he whispered. “Our family, it’s perfect.”

—

The morning light filtered through the windows of your home, casting a soft glow over the living room as Quinn carefully stepped inside, carrying the baby carrier in one hand. Your heart swelled as you watched him—your strong, gentle Quinn—carrying your son into the house for the first time. It felt so surreal, but in the best possible way.

After a long night in the hospital, full of excitement and happy tears, you’d finally arrived home. Your legs were still a little unsteady, but the warmth and comfort of being in your own space made everything feel a little easier. There was something so peaceful about being home with your family—your new family—and you couldn’t wait to settle into this new chapter of your life.

Quinn glanced over at you, his eyes soft as he set the carrier down on the couch. “Alright, babe. Get some rest. I’ll take care of everything with Casey while you recharge.”

You smiled tiredly, nodding. “I’m not that tired, I promise. I just need a minute.”

“Hey, I know how you’re feeling,” he said, his voice gentle as he placed a hand on your shoulder. “You’ve been through a lot. I’ll handle this part, you take the time you need.”

Your eyes softened as you looked up at him. You could see the quiet pride in his face as he looked at your son in the carrier, his hands hovering over the little one as if he couldn’t quite believe this was real. It was still amazing to see Quinn, the man you’d loved for so long, now in this role—the role of a father. It felt like everything had fallen into place.

You nodded, though you didn’t immediately walk away. Instead, you stayed where you were, leaning against the kitchen counter, watching as Quinn carefully lifted the baby carrier, cradling it with one arm while the other held onto the handle. His movements were slow and deliberate, careful not to disturb the baby.

The way he looked at Casey, so full of awe and tenderness, made your heart ache with love. It was as if, in those moments, the rest of the world didn’t matter. There was only Quinn, only your little boy, and only the home you’d created together.

He turned toward the hallway and glanced over his shoulder, catching your eyes. “Come on,” he said softly. “I’m going to show Casey his new room.”

With a small sigh, you pushed off the counter and walked toward him. The sight of Quinn gently carrying the carrier through your house, as if he was guiding his son into the world, was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. And as much as you wanted to rest, you couldn’t help but want to be there, to be a part of this moment.

You followed him quietly down the hallway, your steps light as you took in the sight of your home. The walls you had carefully chosen, the pictures you’d hung together, the quiet space you’d made for this family of three. It all felt so much more real now.

Quinn reached the nursery door and stopped just outside, holding the baby carrier steady. He turned to you with a soft smile, his eyes gleaming with pride. “This is it. His room.”

You peered inside, your eyes scanning the soft blue walls, the crib tucked in the corner, and the shelves lined with tiny stuffed animals. Everything about the room felt peaceful and full of love, just like the rest of the house. It had been a labor of love, carefully decorated with the anticipation of this very moment.

“He’s going to love it here,” you said, your voice a little thick with emotion. It felt like this room was made just for him, and somehow, seeing it all come together made the reality of being parents feel even more overwhelming.

“I think so, too,” Quinn murmured, gently setting the carrier down on the changing table. “I can’t wait to watch him grow up here. I can’t wait to see all the milestones—his first steps, his first words…everything.” He turned back toward you, a little sheepish. “I know it’s going to be a lot of work, but I’m ready for it. I want to be there for every little thing.”

You walked into the room, standing next to him as you both looked down at the carrier, the tiny figure of your son peacefully asleep inside. The sight of him, so small and perfect in his new world, made your heart swell with pride.

“We’re going to be great parents,” you said softly, your hand brushing against his arm. “We’re doing this together.”

Quinn smiled, his expression softening. “I’m so glad you’re with me through all of this. We’ve got this, right?”

“Absolutely,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Together. Always.”

Carefully, Quinn unbuckled the straps of the baby carrier, lifting Casey gently into his arms. The baby stirred slightly but didn’t wake, his small body relaxing against Quinn’s chest. You couldn’t help but admire how natural it all looked, how Quinn seemed so comfortable in this new role, how Casey fit perfectly in his arms as though he had always belonged there.

You stepped forward, guiding Quinn toward the crib. As he gently lowered Casey into the soft blankets, you watched in awe, your heart overflowing. Quinn stood there for a moment, just gazing down at their son, his expression full of love and admiration.

“He’s perfect,” Quinn murmured quietly, almost to himself, as he stood beside the crib, his hand resting on the edge.

You smiled, your hand finding Quinn’s as you joined him by the crib. “He really is.”

The two of you stood there in silence for a long moment, just looking at your son, feeling the weight of this beautiful new chapter in your lives. Everything had changed in an instant—your world now revolved around Casey, and in so many ways, it felt like you were living in a dream.

But as you stood there, hand in hand, watching your little boy peacefully sleep in his new room, you knew one thing for sure: This was only the beginning.

And with Quinn by your side, there was nothing you couldn’t face.

[thebiscuitlabryinth]

(ep8 spoilers ahead)

Black Sapphire is at a bit of a loss.

Really, who wouldn't be? What was supposed to be a simple, fun little programme of torment spiralled so far out of control that anyone would have lost their bearings. Even Master Shadow Milk had lost his by the end of it, so the rest of them surely stood no chance!

It ended up as a complete disaster on their part, an absolutely ghastly stain on their record. Black Sapphire is fairly sure he hasn't witnessed a worse showing since– well, he can't think it too loud, because it's a sore point for the Master, but it has been an incredibly, incredibly long time.

And they had to abandon the Spire too! The Spire, which he and Candy Apple have patiently waited in for what seems like eons. Candy Apple has been pretending not to sulk over it, or to sulk for different Master-related reasons, but she's rather upset over the loss of her glamorous collection of syrups. Black Sapphire can see right through her though. He had been the one who got her half of those syrups in the first place, because he knows she likes to entertain herself with dressing up.

He may have also replaced a good number of them too, as a meagre apology for ruining them in his occasional pranks, but that is neither here or there.

What is here and there is the fact that Black Sapphire is facing a near unprecedented level of befuddlement in the face of all this falling apart. And the worst culprit, naturally, is Pure Vanilla Cookie.

Black Sapphire really isn't sure how to feel about him. Candy Apple, of course, hates him on all grounds, both logical and illogical, but Black Sapphire's opinion on the matter is frustratingly more nuanced. He holds a certain disdain for him on principle, but just to himself, he can admit that his act of deception was impressive. If it were directed towards anyone else, Black Sapphire would have reveled in it, even.

But it had been directed at Master Shadow Milk, and the sheer audacity, the sheer unadultered nerve of that strips a good deal of the amusement Black Sapphire might have gotten from the situation away. He's still experiencing the lingering shock of such a thing succeeding.

And then there's the problem of Pure Vanilla's apparent...effect on the Master. Something about him prompted a disgusting sort of authenticity from Master Shadow Milk, made his smiles and snarls and laughter break the mould they were usually contained by. Black Sapphire prides himself in his ability to, generally and with minimal effort, guess the true emotion of his Master at any given time, regardless of what mask he chooses to wear. He hadn't needed to do that when he and Candy Apple came to fetch him after that battle; Shadow Milk's ugly, eeriely complicated rage was plain on his face, his masks thrown to the side.

It was both terrifying and agonising to imagine that anyone could affect Shadow Milk to that extent.

Black Sapphire is not burdened with the same lovesick blindness as Candy Apple, so he can recognise that, in hindsight, Pure Vanilla's strange influence on Shadow Milk is probably due to his possession of the Soul Jam. It puts Pure Vanilla in a unique position and, considering Shadow Milk's proud declaration of their new shared title before it all went downhill, it must make him a worthy partner in Shadow Milk's eyes, circumstances permitting.

The idea is almost laughably absurd. It makes Black Sapphire feel like there is something barbed and bitter lodged in his throat.

Following their forced retreat, Master Shadow Milk had insisted that he has no more interest in Pure Vanilla, that he will get his revenge by destroying him and that will be that, before sequestering himself away to scheme, apparently uninterested in his faithful minions' inputs. This, at least, is a fairly common occurence. Black Sapphire understands why he wouldn't want Candy Apple's erratic suggestions, driven moreso by a bid for his attention than any meaningful attempt at contribution, but he humbly believes he could be of good help, if given the chance.

Personal grievances aside, Black Sapphire is a little disappointed by the Master's clumsily designed lie, such a far cry from his masterful tapestries of deceit, intricately woven with a slither of truth to easily ensnare all who encounter it. Candy Apple accepted his excuses wholeheartedly because they soothed her, even though Black Sapphire is sure she noticed the discrepancies too.

Ironically, disciples of Deceit tend to have a better grasp on the Truth then most Cookies, recognising it far quicker. To be able to most efficiently reject it, you see.

For all their Master claimed to reject Pure Vanilla, he kept fiddling with that little doll in Pure Vanilla's image, squeezing it and mauling it and fixing it at random intervals as he mulled over his new plans. Black Sapphire had seen it, every time he cautiously tried to check in on their Master, hastily bowing back out whenever he recieved a nasty glare. If the doll was ever broken, it was never broken for long, always returning to a serviceable state so Shadow Milk could continue fidgeting with it.

It is ominous, this attachment his Master seems to have. Black Sapphire quite dislikes it, so he guesses by extension, he quite dislikes Pure Vanilla too.

Speaking of attachment, he blinks out of his pondering as Candy Apple bobs into view in front of him, trying to slink past him to undoubtedly go and disturb the Master in his seclusion.

Black Sapphire pointedly clears his throat. "And what do you think you're doing?"

Candy Apple tiptoes to a stop, glancing at him with squinty, suspicious eyes. "Obviously, I'm going to check on Master Shadow Milk! Hasn't he been holed up for a while? A really long while?"

"Master Shadow Milk ordered not to be disturbed." Black Sapphire replies silkily, hiding the fact that he, too, has been getting antsy about the duration of their Master's isolation. Still, every one of his polite entrances has been met with poor reception, so Candy Apple's boistrous one would definitely go even worse, and he would much rather avoid that. She's an annoying brat, but Black Sapphire would find her permanent absence... uncomfortable.

Candy Apple pouts, puffing out her cheeks. "Yeah, well, he ordered that a while ago and he still isn't out. Maybe he needs some cheering up!" She lights up, her eyes gleaming with an uncanny, delighted shine. "I need to be there for him in his time of need. I can help him think of ways to destroy that- that awful, pathetic Vanilla Cookie!"

"Pure Vanilla Cookie." Black Sapphire corrects quietly, reluctantly, only because he has a sinking feeling that he will continue to haunt their conversations, and he isn't sure, much to his chagrin, how Shadow Milk will react if he overhears and thinks Candy Apple genuinely didn't bother to remember his name.

Black Sapphire really doesn't understand Candy Apple's infatuation with their Master. Of course, he can understand the admiration and the exhaltation, because their Master is a brilliant, powerful Cookie who was baked with the world as his inheritance, but Candy Apple's obsession is so extreme it causes her to act outside the guidelines of their Master's orders if she foolishly believes it would benefit her chances.

Then again, she has always been like this. From the moment Candy Apple has opened her eyes, she has had an odd fixation on Master Shadow Milk, even though it was Black Sapphire who sat in front of her and watched her morph into her Cookie form for the first time, out of the sickeningly sweet apple the Master had tossed carelessly into his hands like a second thought. Her fixation has only intensified and warped as she's grown, seemingly only spurred on by the overall lack of acknowledgement from Master Shadow Milk.

It is almost as if the impossibility of it, the way it always lies just out of reach, has only made Candy Apple's attachment deeper, obsessed with the thrill of that distant and flickering sliver of chance.

Come to think of it, that might be the same for Shadow Milk's obsession with Pure Vanilla. It would explain why he seems to be marinating in such a staggeringly complex mix of emotions now, even after his desired ending seems to have slipped from his hands.

Ugh, love. What a beautifully awful thing, so easy to twist. It's the best kindling for rumours, drawing out the worst reactions, and it's the ultimate curse.

"Whatever!" Candy Apple huffs, turning away from him with a flourish of her skirt. "Shadow Milk needs me. I'm going to help him, and there's nothing you can do to stop me!"

And, well. That's just a blatant lie.

Black Sapphire sweeps his microphone out in front of her feet, tripping her so badly that she lands directly on her face with a shrill squeak. He snickers a little. He can't help it.

Candy Apple pushes herself up from the floor with a sharp scowl, eyes boiling with anger, her shriek practically vibrating in her dough. "You- you MEANIE!"

Black Sapphire shrugs theatrically, not bothering to hide the curl of a smile. "Consider this payback for your hinderance back at the Spire." He chuckles slightly, narrowing his eyes. "After all, if you hadn't released those Cookies from those cards, we probably wouldn't be here now, would we?"

It's petty, especially since Candy Apple has apparently already been punished for that transgression, but any punishment handed down by Shadow Milk might as well not be a punishment at all to her. Keeping her from running in and bothering Shadow Milk, on the other hand? Now that's a punishment.

Candy Apple's face contorts, her dough flushed with humiliation and anger both, sputtering out frustrated grumbles that sound exactly the same as when she was first baked. "Shut up and get out of my WAY!"

She jumps at Black Sapphire, who dodges and alights into the air with a flap of his wings, making her stumble again with a cheeky flick of his microphone. He laughs at her responding screech, so much like the harsh feedback of his audio equipment.

Besides, pettiness aside, Black Sapphire is only dutifully following his orders. If Master Shadow Milk wants to gather strength by wallowing in his unstable emotions, then who are they to stop him?

He is the Master of All Knowledge, after all. He must know best.

[marscardigan]

family line, part ii

ellie williams x fem!reader

family line masterlist

summary: falling in love with ellie was easy. it was harder to hate her once you knew she was the one hunting your sister.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: this fic doesn’t follow the original plot of the last of us part ii. canon typical violence. no use of y/n. emotional dependence.

Five years ago

Abby paced the length of the hospital room - that was now your room, her hands twisting together nervously. You watched her from the couch, curiosity piqued as she muttered under her breath, glancing toward the front door every few seconds. She was never this jumpy—at least, not without good reason.

You were younger than her, but that didn't make you any less smart. “You’re going to make a hole in the floor,” you teased, tucking your legs beneath you. “What’s got you so worked up?”

Abby's expression was somewhere between anxious and determined. “I... need to tell you something,” she started, rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s, um... important.”

You arched an eyebrow, leaning forward. “Okay...?”

Before she could continue, the front door creaked open, and Owen Moore stepped in, his presence immediately filling the space with that too-easy smile of his. He looked comfortable, familiar, but there was something different in the way he hovered near the door, hands shoved into his pockets as if unsure of his welcome.

You glanced between them, piecing things together, and then looked back at your sister for explanation.

Abby’s face flushed, her gaze flicking to Owen before settling on you, "We’re... we’re together," she admitted, the words stumbling out in a rush. "Like... officially."

There was a beat of silence. The weight of her confession hung heavily in the air, her eyes locked on yours, waiting for your reaction. You could see the vulnerability in her eyes, how much your opinion mattered to her.

You knew Abby could handle anyone’s judgment. She was tough and stubborn, but when it came to you... your approval meant everything to her.

For a moment, you just stared, processing the news. It made sense, you supposed. But still... something about Owen didn’t sit right with you. Maybe it was the way he always seemed to joke his way out of serious conversations, or how he’d laugh off things that clearly mattered to Abby.

Or maybe it was how he looked at you now—cautious, uncertain—as if he knew you weren’t thrilled about this.

You forced yourself to look at Abby, taking in her anxious expression, the way she almost held her breath. "Oh," you managed, keeping your tone neutral. "I didn’t know... you two were... like that."

“Yeah,” Abby replied, visibly relieved that you hadn’t freaked out. "I wanted you to hear it from me first. I didn’t want you to feel... left out."

Left out. That's funny, you thought.

Being Abby Anderson’s clingy and annoying little sister hadn’t exactly helped your reputation around Salt Lake City, especially when your father, the lead doctor of the Fireflies.

Not that you could blame her—Abby was beautiful, a near-mirror image of your father. Meanwhile, you were a carbon copy of your mom, the bookish one, always more clever than charming.

It was too easy for you to feel left out around her, even if you tried to hide it, she could always notice.

"Does dad know?"

Your sister shook her head, suddenly uncomfortable with your dad’s mention. You nodded, "Well, I am happy for you two."

Abby’s eyes softened. She took a step closer to you, her tension easing now that the secret was out. “It means a lot, you know... you being okay with this.”

You swallowed the discomfort, the unease lingering at the edges of your chest. For her, you could try. Even if something about this didn’t feel right, even if you weren’t entirely convinced that Owen deserved her, you’d try.

For Abby.

Present day

The road back to Seattle was quiet.

You shouldn't feel bad about what was bound to happen sooner or later. But it wasn't Joel's death what hurt your chest, it was how he died that made you unable to sleep.

Abby had her jaw clenched, eyes forward as she drove, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. You saw how she tried to make her look through the rearview mirror The others sat in the back, their voices low and occasional, as if speaking too loudly might break something fragile in the atmosphere.

You kept your gaze out the window, focusing on the passing trees, the fading daylight. But inside, you felt trapped in your own mind.

No one dared to speak to you until you were back at the city. You dragged yourself inside, all but ignoring the others as you passed them in the hallway.

Needing some fresh air, you escaped from some guards patrolling the halls and made your way up to the rooftop. But before you could enter the elevator, you heard two muffled voices near one room.

It was Abby and Owen.

You should’ve ignored it, but then you heard your name in the conversation. You stopped your tracks, and got closer to the door.

"For god’s sake, Abby, if you knew she’d react like that, then you shouldn’t have brought her!"

You haven’t heard Owen this angry since your dad’s passing.

"And what? Leave her alone here!?"

"Abby." The male’s voice was stern, but uncalm. "You’re not helping her by coddling her all the time. She can’t even stand being away from you for a second without falling apart."

You felt your stomach drop, a cold wave of embarrassment washing over you.

Abby’s voice was sharp, defensive. "She’s been through hell, Owen. We both have. I’m not just going to abandon her."

"I’m not saying to abandon her," Owen countered, "but you can’t keep acting like she’s a child. She’s never going to learn to stand on her own if you’re always there to catch her."

Silence hung heavy for a moment, and you could imagine Abby’s face—stubborn, jaw clenched, eyes burning with that fierce protectiveness she always had when it came to you.

"She’s my sister," Abby finally said, her voice dangerously low. "I promised Dad I’d take care of her."

Owen’s tone softened, his voice dropping almost to a plea. "I get that, but... she depends on you for everything. And people are starting to notice. They think she’s—"

"Don’t you dare," the blonde snapped, cutting him off. "Don’t you dare finish that sentence."

"They think she’s weak," Owen finished, refusing to back down. "They think she’s a liability. That she’s holding you back."

A sharp intake of breath. You pressed your back against the wall, heart pounding so loudly you were sure they could hear it.

Silence. It stretched long and heavy, filled with words neither of them seemed willing to say. You bit down on your lip, hard enough to taste blood.

When Abby finally spoke, her voice was cold. "Get out."

"Abby—"

"Get. Out."

There was a pause, and then the sound of footsteps retreating, the door swinging open. You barely had time to duck behind the corner before Owen stormed past. He didn’t see you.

Your heart felt like it was shattering, piece by piece. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. Inside the room, you heard Abby collapse against the wall, a choked sob escaping her.

And it broke you.

Because even though she defended you, even though she stood up for you... Owen was right. Compared to everyone in the group, you were nothing. A couple of inventions weren’t going to change that.

For the rest of the day, you didn't talk to anyone. You locked yourself in your room, hoping for the pain inside your chest to disappear. And even if you especially didn't want to see your sister, she always found a way back to you.

"Hey," Abby said quietly, standing in the doorway of your shared room. You didn’t notice her arrival. "Can we talk?"

You didn't respond. You kept your back to her, fingers gripping the edge of the counter as you stared down at your failed inventions. She waited, and the silence stretched out painfully, but you couldn't bring yourself to turn around.

"Please, bug, look at me." Abby’s voice cracked, just a little, and it felt like a knife twisting in your chest.

Still, you stayed silent.

She took a step closer. Her hand almost brushed your shoulder, but she stopped before touching you. "I didn't want you to see that, okay? You don't have to agree with what I did, but—"

"You don't get it," you whispered, your voice sounding raw after not using it for the whole day. "Killing that man like an animal only made you just as vicious as him."

You paused, finally looking at her eyes. "I don't even know who you are anymore."

Abby flinched. The words hit harder than any punch could, and for a moment, she didn’t say anything at all. She just stood there. But you couldn't let her in. Not now. Not after everything.

With a shaky breath, Abby turned away, leaving you alone in the dim room.

Both of you knew it would take a while for you to move on from what happened back in Jackson. And even if Abby couldn't shake the image of you in pain, she didn't regret any of it.

Maybe that was what made you two different.

They think she’s weak. They think she’s a liability. They think she’s holding you back.

Weeks had passed since the incident in Wyoming, and even if everyone forgot about what had happened, those words didn't leave your head. You were not weak. You were not a burden. And you were going to prove it.

You moved swiftly, fueled by determination—and maybe a little bit of anger. You found Jordan gearing up by the gate, his rifle slung casually over his shoulder, a half-smile on his face as he exchanged jokes with the other patrol members.

"Hey," you called, trying to sound as steady as possible. "You heading out?"

He turned, surprised to see you. "Yeah. Going to check the local school for supplies. Why? You wanna tag along?"

You nodded, forcing confidence into your voice. "I could use the practice."

Jordan raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that. You rarely volunteered for patrols, not unless Abby was by your side. "You sure? It’s a long route. Could get dicey."

"I can handle it," you replied firmly.

He studied you for a moment, then shrugged. "Alright, suit yourself. Just try to keep up."

You grabbed your gear, hastily strapping on your backpack and double-checking your only pistol, and a couple of hand-made bombs in case of crossing any infected. You could do this. You had to.

No more being a burden.

Without another thought, you followed Jordan through the gates, slipping out before anyone could stop you. You didn’t leave a note. You didn’t tell Abby. You didn’t owe her an explanation—not this time.

If she thought you couldn’t do this on your own, then you’d show her.

You’d show all of them.

The route to the school wasn't easy, but you made it in one piece.

It wasn’t until you reached the Serevena Hotel that things started to go sour. You had the gun in one hand, and even if it trembled beneath your touch, you felt confident.

Jordan was on the top floor, clearing out infected, when you stumbled into a room—and nearly threw up at the sight before you.

"Jordan!"

The male came running to you, shotgun risen up and eyes wide.

"Nick’s dead," you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper. You turned away, bile rising in your throat.

"We need to get out of here. Now."

You and Jordan ran through the crumbling streets, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as the school came into view. Relief flooded you at the sight of the familiar building, its walls fortified by the rest of your group. But the feeling was short-lived.

A whistle pierced the air, and your heart dropped. Scars.

"Get down!" Jordan shouted, and before he could shove you behind a rusted car, an arrow jabbed above your shoulder, making you unable to move.

Jordan, tense at the situation, tried to come to you, but an arrow was shot almost in his head.

"You need to go! I'll be fine!"

"What? No! You're crazy if-"

You shoved one of your smoke bombs with your intact arm. "I'll stay here, you get backup!"

He thought about it. And in reality, there wasn't much more to do. You couldn't move right, and him leaving would distract them. So he nodded, still worried, and left you there.

Alone. At least those fuckers followed him.

Once you knew they left, you tried to move inside the closest building, the arrow still stuck in your flesh. A growl snapped you back to reality. Your eyes widened as a Clicker rounded the corner, its face twisted and jagged.

You didn’t have time to react. But before he could come any closer, a gunshot resounded in the room, making him turn back, where there was a girl, around your age, with dark eyes and curly hair tied back, with a pistol in her hands.

The clicker ran to her, pushing her to the ground and getting dangerously close to her neck. You used your last strength to grab your gun and aim at the monster, killing it before he could sink its teeth into the brunette.

"Holy shit." She breathed out.

Your vision became dimmed as the girl knelt beside you, her face a mixture of distrust and worry. When she realized you were almost collapsing from the loss of blood, she grabbed you tightly by her side. "Come on."

You fought to stay conscious, the sounds of battle echoing in the distance.

She found an abandoned storefront, kicking the door open and laying you on a dusty mattress. “This is gonna hurt,” she warned, her voice tight as she broke the arrow’s shaft, pulling the rest out in one swift motion.

You screamed, the pain a white-hot flash that made your vision go black.

The pain was overwhelming, exhaustion dragging you under. You tried to fight it, but darkness crept in at the edges of your vision.

The girl worked fast to clean and patch up your wound, but your dizziness was stronger. The girl tried to talk to you, but you were already slipping, as the world faded to black.

By the time you woke up, you weren't at the storefront anymore. You were lying on something soft—a couch. Your shoulder throbbed, the makeshift bandage tight around the wound.

You blinked, eyes unfocused as muffled voices drifted from the other side of the room.

"She just collapsed in my arms," a voice argued, familiar and sharp. "I couldn’t just leave her there!"

A second voice responded, "You don’t fucking know her, Dina! What the hell were you thinking, bringing her here?"

Your heart raced, confusion clouding your mind. Where were you?

"She saved my life. She could’ve let that Clicker kill me, but she didn’t."

You tried to move, a groan escaping your lips as pain shot through your shoulder. The voices stopped, footsteps approaching.

Dina’s face appeared above you, her eyes wide with relief. "Hey, you’re awake. How are you feeling?"

Before you could find the words, the other girl appeared, and her presence sent a chill down your spine. Her posture was rigid, shoulders tense. Her hands gripped tightly, a revolver, aiming at your head.

"You better be smart and answer my questions, or I'll put a bullet between your eyes right now."

You tried to sink into the couch, curling in on yourself, your injured shoulder throbbing at the movement. You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. The pain made it hard to think, to breathe, to do anything but tremble under her gaze.

Your throat felt tight, strangled by fear. Your sister would be so disappointed at you right now, you were even ashamed.

The freckled girl's eyes narrowed. "Are you from here? What were you doing there, huh? Are you alone?" She took a step closer, "you better start talking, or—"

"Ellie, that’s enough," Dina interrupted, stepping between you and the other girl. "She just woke up from passing out. She’s hurt. She’s not gonna answer your stupid interrogation."

Ellie’s jaw tightened, her eyes flicking between you and Dina. “We don’t know who she is. She could be dangerous.”

"All she had on her was a gun, a couple of comics, and a Walkman," Dina argued, crossing her arms. "She’s just a girl. She’s not a threat."

Ellie hesitated, her shoulders loosening just a little. “She could still be.”

Your fingers dug into the fabric of your jeans, trying to keep your hands from shaking. Ellie’s glare didn’t waver, but she took a step back, leaning against the wall with her arms still crossed. Her eyes never left you, the revolver still resting in her hands. Watching. Waiting.

A few minutes passed, none of you daring to speak. Then, in a whisper, you finally said your name. Both of the girls looked at each other.

Dina repeated it, as her expression softened, relief washing over her face. She repeated your name, her tone gentle, almost kind. "Where are you from?"

Your gaze stayed glued to your lap, eyes tracing the dirt stains on your jeans. "Utah." It wasn’t a lie—you were from Utah. Coming to Seattle a couple of years before didn't change that.

Dina nodded slowly, seeming to accept your answer. "Are you hungry?"

Your stomach churned at the thought, but you managed a weak nod. Ellie remained silent, her eyes still locked on you, face unreadable.

The brunette left the room, leaving you alone with Ellie’s stare. She didn’t speak, she just watched you, her eyes piercing through the dim light. You shivered under her gaze, shifting uncomfortably.

After what felt like an eternity, Dina returned with a bowl of soup, the smell warm and inviting. She handed it to you carefully, "Here. It’ll help."

Your hands trembled as you took the bowl, the spoon clinking against the ceramic as you lifted it to your lips. Dina sat beside you, her presence comforting. She didn’t push you to talk, just watched quietly, a faint smile on her lips.

Ellie, on the other hand, leaned against the wall, arms still crossed, her eyes never leaving you. She was so still, so silent, it was unnerving. Her face was hard, expression impossible to read, freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks.

She was beautiful.

The thought made you freeze, heat flooding your cheeks. You wanted to look away, but your eyes lingered on her face—her sharp jawline, the curve of her lips. Even with the harshness in her eyes, there was something captivating about her.

Your heart fluttered, a mix of fear and something else swirling in your chest. You’re an idiot, you thought bitterly. She threatened to kill you, and you’re staring at her like some dumb schoolgirl.

You quickly turned back to your soup, cheeks burning as you forced another spoonful down. But you could still feel her gaze, heavy and piercing.

Dina must’ve noticed your discomfort because she leaned in closer, her voice low and soothing. "Don’t mind her. She’s just… cautious. She won’t hurt you."

You weren’t so sure about that, but you nodded anyway, clutching the bowl tightly as you continued eating.

The room fell into a tense silence.

As you finished the soup, the pain in your shoulder returned worse than before. Dina noticed, gently taking the empty bowl from your hands. "Get some rest. We’ll talk more later."

You hesitated, glancing at Ellie one last time. She hadn’t moved, her expression unreadable. Yet, something in her gaze shifted, a flicker of emotion you couldn’t quite decipher. Even if you couldn’t fully understand her, you sensed she no longer saw you as the same level of threat as before.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

author’s note: i knoww this is slow but i really wanted to show the sibling dynamic they have because it is very important for the plot :( promise there is more ellie to come heheh

taglist !

@kaykeryyy @vahnilla @autisticintr0vertf

[kominigiru]

this fic is a part of my series: there is no other love, it’s only yours. feel free to check out part 1 and part 2 on ao3! you can also read part 3 here. nonetheless, this can be read as a standalone :)

you’re the closest to heaven (that i’ll ever be)

summary: Whenever Satoru is tired, you’re the one he seeks out—his anchor, his peace. You help him find rest, even when the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

contains: female reader, fluff, reader being a cursed speech user, just something very domestic for valentine’s (even tho i’m four days late)

Satoru’s footsteps echoes softly as he walks through the quiet hallway of your shared home. He’s tired—beyond tired, really—but it’s nothing new. It had been a grueling mission, and even the strength of the strongest sorcerer couldn’t protect him from the exhaustion that weighed him down after a day like today.

But even in the midst of his physical and emotional fatigue, there was a single thought that kept him moving.

You.

When he reaches the kitchen, he finds you exactly where he expected—quietly brewing tea. You stand by the counter, your back to him, with only the soft sound of the boiling water filling the air.

Satoru pauses at the doorway, standing still for a moment longer than usual.

There’s something about the scene before him that makes his heart thump in his chest. The way the soft light from the window frames your figure, how the steam from the kettle dances in the air, and how, even in the midst of such a simple task, you seem so perfectly… serene.

Pretty.

The thought hits him like a wave, and for a second, he almost forgets to breathe. He can’t believe how lucky he is to have you in his life. You, who’s too perfect for him—too good for someone like him.

He remembers all the times strangers—non-sorcerers—would look at the two of you when you go out together; how they would say how lucky you were to have a handsome man like him.

He remembers the sharp words of Nanami, even his (his best friend; his second other half), telling him that someone like him didn’t deserve someone like you. And Satoru agrees.

It wasn’t you who was lucky to have someone like him.

It’s me. I’m the lucky one.

Satoru doesn’t believe in gods. He doesn’t believe in fate or destiny. He’d been told for so long that he was something above ordinary humans, that he was something more—the honored one. And though it did get to his head when he had been much younger, none of that mattered now. Because the only thing he can truly believe in is you.

You must be heaven-sent.

He stands there for a moment longer, watching you as you focused on your task, before you finally turned around. The instant your eyes meets his, everything else in the world faded.

There was no weight, no expectations, no mission, no curse. Just you, and the way your gaze softened when you saw him.

A smile tugs at your lips, and without hesitation, you wave a hand in greeting, like you always do when you see him. The simple gesture—so natural, so effortless—made Satoru’s heart stutter in his chest.

You’re so pretty, he tells himself for the second time that moment. Pretty doesn’t even do you justice, but it’s the word that comes to him, the one that always surfaces no matter how many times he sees you, no matter how many times he’s in your presence.

His breath catches, and for the briefest second, he forgets what it’s like to be the strongest sorcerer in the world. Instead, he is just a man, standing in front of the woman he loves.

You, who had agreed to marry him, to bind yourself to him, to trust him with your life. And he could never quite wrap his head around how lucky he is. How you—someone so pure, so beautiful, so good—had chosen him.

His thoughts spiral, but he’s snapped back to the present when he notices you tilt your head slightly, an inquisitive expression crossing your face.

And just like that, the flush creeps up the back of his neck. His heart races faster, and for a fleeting moment, he feels like the high school kid who’d first fallen for you. He can’t help but smile sheepishly, ears burning.

“Guess I’ve been standing here a little too long, huh?” His voice is hoarse, tired, but the warmth in it is unmistakable.

The tips of his ears feel like they might combust, and the thought that he’s still this enamored by you—after everything—makes him feel like a teenager again.

You give him another smile, one that’s soft, comforting, and full of understanding. Without a word, you reach out, guiding him over to where you’re standing. The tea is almost ready, but more importantly, so are you.

You always know what he needs.

He doesn’t deserve you, but somehow, you’ve made him feel like the luckiest man alive. And maybe, just maybe, that’s all the proof he needs that you really are something out of this world.

Satoru approaches you languidly, his movements unhurried but deliberate. The moment he’s close enough, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

He has to bend slightly to fit against you, but he doesn’t seem to mind—not when the scent of you is enough to ease some of the weight pressing down on him.

At a glance, he might look relaxed, but you can feel the tension in his shoulders, the heaviness he carries even now. Without hesitation, you reach over and turn off the stove, the bubbling water momentarily forgotten. You don’t move away, don’t push him back, simply letting him hold onto you for as long as he needs.

But then, after a few quiet moments, Satoru pulls away just enough to look at you. Though his eyes remain hidden beneath his bandages, you don’t need to see them to know—his brows are furrowed.

“Are you sure?” he asks, voice softer than usual, almost hesitant.

You nod without missing a beat, taking his hand in yours, your fingers curling around his as if to anchor him.

You don’t speak, but Satoru understands. He always does. After years by your side, he knows you better than anyone. The slow, reassuring circles your thumb traces against his palm say everything your voice does not.

You come first.

And that’s all he needs to let you lead him away, your grip firm yet gentle as you guide him to your shared bedroom. The moment he sits on the edge of the bed, you press lightly against his shoulders, urging him to lie down. He doesn’t resist, letting himself sink into the mattress with a quiet sigh as his head comes to rest in your lap.

Your hands move with practiced ease as you begin to unwind the bandages from his eyes. And when the last strip falls away, Satoru blinks against the dim light, his vision adjusting.

The first thing he sees is you.

Not the weight of the world on his shoulders, not the ghosts of his past—just you.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, he feels like he can finally breathe.

Your hand hovers over his eyes, gently covering them as if to shield him from the world. The warmth of your palm is enough to calm him, and for a moment, he feels the weight of everything start to slip away.

Then, for the first time today, he hears your voice.

“Sleep.”

It’s all you say, but it’s enough.

He feels his body relax, the exhaustion from the mission and the day’s tension draining from him as your words settle into him like a lullaby. His eyelids grow heavy, and he feels his mind slip into that quiet, drowsy space between waking and sleep.

He can never get tired of your voice. Even when it’s just a whisper, it’s more comforting than anything. He knows why you speak so rarely—your cursed technique, the fear of unintentionally hurting someone—but sometimes, just sometimes, he wishes you didn’t have to hold back.

Satoru wants to hear you sing, to hear the melody of your voice flow freely without fear. He wants you to say his name, call him whatever cute nickname comes to mind, to tell him you love him in the same way he pours his heart out to you without hesitation.

But tonight, he’s too tired to ask. Too drowsy, his thoughts slipping away like the threads of a dream. His lips part, but no words come out. Instead, he feels himself falling deeper into the softness of the moment, into the calm you’ve created around him.

And before he completely drifts away, before sleep fully takes him, he hears it.

Your voice, soft and steady, just for him.

“I love you.”

[multific]

Love Rebuilt in Ashes

Duke Leto Atreides x Reader

Summary: Though Leto saved you, the damage to your heart remains.

A/N: This is a part 2 of A Love Tested by War but can be read as a standalone.

He had nearly lost you, because of his doubts, because of his own mistakes.

He had sworn to protect you, and yet, you had suffered under the hands of traitors while he hesitated to believe in you.

Now, even as the bruises faded and your body healed, the wound between you remained.

At night, when the halls of Castle Caladan were silent, he would reach for you in bed, only to feel the empty space where you had once been next to him.

During the day, you spoke to him with polite words but without warmth. You no longer leaned into his touch, no longer gifted him with the soft smiles that once melted away his burdens.

And it killed him. Destroyed him. More than any traitor has ever done.

You two always ate dinner together. He would ask you questions about your day and you would answer, of course, but your replies are short.

Short and simple.

You no longer went on and on about the things you loved about your day or the things you found boring.

So Leto Atreides, the mighty Duke, set out to do what he had never done before, win your trust back, no matter what it took.

No matter what he needed to do.

He couldn't live like this anymore.

He needed his wife back. You, back. Before his mistake.

He began with the small things.

Every morning, he made sure fresh flowers were placed in your chambers. Always the rarest blooms, the ones you loved most.

You can recall the first time the flowers were brought in, you found it to be strange. But then your servant told you they came from the Duke himself.

You were shocked.

He personally ensured that the kitchen prepared your favourite dishes, even sitting beside you at meals in hopes that you would see how much he still cared. 

He began walking with you in the gardens, always keeping a respectful distance.

But nothing seemed to work. You remained cold, distant. 

One evening, as you sat reading by the fire in your chambers, he hesitated at the doorway. He felt like a boy. He debated knocking, at one point he even walked away, only to turn right back to stand in front of the door.

He took a deep breath before stepping inside.

You acknowledged his presence with a glance, but nothing more.

Leto exhaled and sat in the chair across from you. “I have been a fool.”

You stilled, pausing your reading. You refused to look at him, but you listened to his words.

“I doubted you when I should have trusted you most,” he continued. “I thought I was protecting my house, my people. But all I did was hurt the person who has been my greatest ally. The person I love.”

Your throat tightened, but you remained silent. You needed more than that.

“I do not ask for your forgiveness,” he said. “I will earn it. Every day, in every way I can. For the rest of my life.”

Silence stretched between you.

The fire crackled, casting shadows against the walls. Then, finally, you met his eyes.

“You hurt me, Leto.” Your voice was quiet but steady. “I trusted you, and you threw me aside as if my love meant nothing.”

Regret flashed across his face. “It meant everything.”

You studied him, searching for any hint of deception. But all you saw was a man who had nearly lost what mattered most. Almost broken but his pride not allowing it. You needed more.

More, to know he will keep his word. More, to know he will not betray you.

You wanted the Duke to be on his knees begging you for forgiveness.

But you had a good heart.

After a long pause, you extended your hand toward him. 

Hesitant. Testing.

But Leto did not hesitate. He moved from his chair, kneeling before you, his large hand enveloping yours. 

There it was.

He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss against your knuckles.

“I swear to you,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion, “I swear I will never let my fears make me blind again. You are my heart, my love, my Duchess. And I will spend the rest of my life proving that I mean every single word to you.”

For the first time in weeks, you allowed him to hold you.

"Never again, Leto." you whispered and his arms tightened around you.

"Never." his voice was firm, confident. 

And though trust could not be rebuilt in a single night, as he pressed a kiss to your temple, you knew he was willing to spend forever trying.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[loveslilies]

❪ ❥ ❫ ɾ.ises the moon | ʝ.wy drabble

⋆ song: rises the moon

⋆ synopsis: wooyoung comes home to find you sheltering yourself, overwhelmed by emotion but he won't let you drown—he's here to remind you that you're not alone.

⋆ genre: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

⋆ warnings: mentions of drowning, feeling suffocated, implied anxiety, themes of depression, pet names (moonlight, sunlight), very self indulgent

⋆ word count: 753

You don’t expect to see Wooyoung back so early. He stands at the edge of the bed—bathed in the dim glow of the moonlight, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. The usual warmth in his eyes was present, yet accompanied by something heavier, almost worried.

“You’ve been avoiding my messages all day.” His voice is quiet, but the sadness behind it is not mistaken. It’s not an accusation. Not quite.

Your eyes flicker to the side, you're buried underneath the usual warm blankets on your shared bed, though tonight they feel heavier for some reason. “I haven’t.”

Wooyoung exhales softly, shaking his head. “Don’t lie to me.” He says the words fall from his lips softly, and it feels like the world has slowed for a moment, like the night itself is holding its breath. “You thought I wouldn’t notice?"

You drop their gaze, but Wooyoung won’t let you disappear into silence. Not tonight.

He patters his way to the other side of your bed, crawling under the heavy covers that feel almost suffocating. "What's going on?" he finally breaks the silence. You softly turn your head to face him, not expecting to see him looking right back at you, you release a heavy breath you weren't aware you held.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm just-" You pause, shaking your head as you lose the words you were going to say, but Wooyoung won't let you close yourself in, not again, not tonight. "Don't do that, talk to me my moonlight."

"I feel heavy lately, burdened almost." You continue reluctantly. "Burdened by the feeling of my own emotions, it feels as if I'm drowning lately, and I don't know how long I can continue like this. The feeling is so heavy and suffocating, and no matter how much I try to ignore it, it never goes away I feel as if I can't breathe."

A sharp breathe intake was heard from your right, as Wooyoung listened to you explain what you felt the sadness in his chest felt heavier.

“You’re not alone.”

“What?” you breathe, the words barely leaving your lips. Shock flickers across your face as you search for meaning in his eyes.

Wooyoung doesn’t hesitate. “You’re not alone,” he repeats, softer this time. “You don’t have to carry this weight by yourself. I’m right here.” His voice is steady yet filled with something raw—something aching. “My moon, you have people who love you. Your friends, your family, the others… me. You don’t have to push your feelings away. That only makes it worse.”

His hand comes up to cradle your face, thumb brushing over your cheek with a tenderness that unravels something deep inside you. Tears well in your eyes, blurring the warmth in his gaze, but still, he doesn’t look away. “Just let me in,” he pleads. “Let someone in.”

“If you feel suffocated, I’ll be there. If you feel like you’re drowning, I’ll dive into the depths of your burden and bring you back myself if I have to.”

As his words settle over you, the ache in your chest loosens, if only slightly. His voice, his presence—it’s like the sun breaking through the eye of a storm, warm and reassuring, reminding you that no matter how heavy the clouds feel, light will always find you. A single tear slips free, trailing down your cheek as you meet his gaze.

Wooyoung smiles—soft, understanding. Without hesitation, he pulls you into his embrace, cradling you against his chest. His lips press gently against the top of your head, a silent promise, an unspoken vow. “You can breathe now, moonlight. I’m here.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you do. The weight pressing down on you hasn’t vanished, but it’s lighter, easier to bear. You inhale deeply, exhale shakily, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

“My sunlight,” you whisper, voice fragile but full of quiet relief.

“My moonlight,” he murmurs back, his hold tightening ever so slightly.

As your eyes flutter shut, sleep pulls at you, and for once, the blankets don’t feel suffocating but warm. The heaviness in your chest no longer drowns you—it allows you to breathe, to rest.

I’m not alone. Not anymore.

And just before sleep fully claims you, you hear it—soft, unwavering, full of love.

“I love you.”

⋆ a/n: I adore wooyoung sm. If you enjoyed please be sure to reblog!

⋆ taglist: @littlestarwoo

[valkyriexo]

When You Start Getting Distant Because You’re in a Relationship | Maknae Line

ᑉ³pairing; Friend! OT8 x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Headcannon, angst

ᑉ³warnings; none I think!

ᑉ³authors note; You guys seemed to like the hyung line! Here is the Maknae Version Hyung Line

╰┈➤ Han

Tries to act like nothing’s wrong, but it’s so obvious something is. He still jokes around, still sends you funny messages—but there’s hesitation now, a nervousness in his texts that wasn’t there before.

Overthinks everything. Did he say something weird? Is he being annoying? Are you ignoring him on purpose? His brain runs in circles, making up worst-case scenarios.

Writes songs about it. Instead of telling you how he feels, he pours it all into lyrics....verses full of confessions, frustration, and so much longing.

Tries to distract himself with food and games, but nothing feels the same. Even his favorite snacks taste bland when you’re not there to steal a bite. His high scores don’t feel like victories when you’re not there to celebrate.

Gets weirdly competitive with your S/O—even if they don’t know it. If they post a funny joke, he has to post something funnier. If they do something romantic, he mutters, “I could’ve done it better.”

Has a hard time Dealing with his emotions. Emotions and Han Jisung don’t mix well...so it explodes out of him all at once.

"You’re really just gonna leave me behind like this?"

The words come out sharper than he intended, but he can’t stop them. His usual playfulness is gone.

"I mean, seriously—what happened? One second, we’re fine, and the next, I barely exist to you."

He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "You don’t text first anymore. You cancel plans. And every time I try to talk to you, it’s like you’re already halfway out the door."

You try to explain, but he just throws his hands up.

"I get it, okay? You have someone now. But did that mean I had to lose you completely?"

His voice is quieter now, but his eyes, usually so full of light, are clouded with something else.

"I was supposed to be that person."

His throat bobs as he swallows hard.

"You think I didn’t notice? The way I felt whenever you were around? The way I’d drop everything just to see you smile?" He laughs bitterly. "I knew it before I even admitted it to myself."

Then, finally, his voice barely above a whisper—

"But I guess I was too late, huh?"

And for once, Jisung has no joke to cover up the pain.

╰┈➤ Felix

Tries to be supportive, even when it hurts. He forces a smile, tells you he’s happy for you, and pretends like his heart isn’t sinking every time you mention your S/O.

Still checks up on you, even if you don’t check up on him. Sends you little “Did you eat?” or “Get home safe” texts, even when you stop replying as fast as you used to.

Bakes way too much. His kitchen turns into an emotional war zone....cookies, brownies, cakes, anything to keep himself busy. But no matter how many sweets he makes, nothing takes away the bitter feeling in his chest.

Tries to keep up his usual affection, but it feels… different. He hesitates before reaching for a hug, pulls away too quickly, laughs a little softer when you ruffle his hair.

Plays video games as an escape. But even when he wins, it doesn’t feel as satisfying when you’re not there to celebrate with him.

Finally breaks when he realizes you’re truly slipping away. He wanted to be patient, wanted to be the good friend, but that didnt go as planned.

"You don’t need me anymore, do you?"

Felix’s voice is quiet, almost trembling, but his eyes are locked onto yours...searching, begging for an answer he’s afraid to hear.

"I mean… I get it," he laughs weakly, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. "You have someone now. You’re happy. That’s all I ever wanted."

He pauses, swallows hard.

"But… was I ever that important to you?"

Your breath catches, and he takes a shaky step back, hands clenching at his sides.

"Because it doesn’t feel like it anymore." His voice wavers, his deep tone softer than ever. "I’m still here, you know? I still—" He stops himself, letting out a quiet sigh.

Then, almost too soft to hear—

"I still love you."

It’s out before he can take it back, and when he sees your eyes widen, he lets out a small, sad chuckle.

"I tried to ignore it. I told myself it was enough just to be near you. But then you started pulling away, and suddenly, I wasn’t even part of your life anymore."

His voice cracks, and he shakes his head, looking down.

"I should’ve told you sooner, shouldn’t I?"

When he looks back up, his usual warmth is dimmer.

"But it’s too late now, isn’t it?"

╰┈➤ Seungmin

Acts like he doesn’t care—but oh, he cares. His usual teasing gets a little sharper, his sarcasm a little more pointed. He pretends everything is normal, but his eyes tell a different story.

Stops reaching out first. If you want to talk to him, you can text him. (Except he still waits for your messages, still checks his phone way too often, still hopes.)

Gets quieter around you. Normally, he always has a witty remark, a playful jab...but now, there are more pauses, more silences that stretch a little too long.

Starts staying late at practice, distracting himself with work. If he can’t talk to you, he’ll at least be productive about it.

Refuses to admit he’s jealous, even when it’s painfully obvious. If someone points it out, he scoffs, “Jealous? Of what? Please.” (Meanwhile, his grip on his water bottle tightens.)

Finally breaks when he catches you actively avoiding him. He was fine with being second place.....until he realizes he’s not even in the running anymore.

"Are you serious?"

Seungmin’s voice is steady.....too steady. He stares at you, his expression unreadable, but there’s something burning behind his eyes.

"So this is how it is now?" He lets out a short, humorless laugh. "You don’t even bother pretending anymore, huh?"

You shift uncomfortably, and he shakes his head, jaw clenching.

"You didn’t even notice, did you?" His tone is sharp, but there’s something underneath it...something fragile, something aching.

"I stopped texting first. I stopped calling. I stopped everything just to see if you’d even care. And guess what?" He exhales sharply, looking away for a moment before meeting your gaze again.

"You didn’t."

The words hang in the air, heavier than either of you expected.

For a second, he looks like he wants to stop himself. Like he wants to shove the words back down. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"Do you even know how stupid I feel?" His voice drops lower, quieter. "Standing here, saying all this, when I already know how it ends?"

Then, almost as if the confession is being dragged out of him—

"I liked you, you know."

A bitter smile tugs at his lips.

"Maybe I still do."

His fingers curl into fists at his sides, but his voice stays painfully steady.

"But I’m not going to beg for your attention."

With one last glance...one that lingers just a second too long...he steps back.

"So if you’re going to keep pushing me away, then fine. I’ll stop trying."

╰┈➤ Jeongin

Tries to play it cool but completely fails. He acts like everything is fine, but his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes anymore.

Laughs less around you. Normally, he lights up when you’re near, but now, his laughter feels forced...like he’s just going through the motions.

Overthinks everything. Did he do something wrong? Did he annoy you? Or are you just done with him? His thoughts spiral, but he never asks, too scared of the answer.

Becomes awkwardly formal. Where he used to call you cute nicknames or casually tease you, now it’s just “Oh, hey,” and “Yeah, sure.” Like he’s putting up a wall between you.

Starts avoiding you, even though you’re the one pulling away. If you don’t need him, maybe it’s better if he keeps his distance too. But it hurts more than he thought it would.

He sees you with your S/O and realizes he’s not the person you run to anymore. He wasn’t going to say anything, but his heart doesn’t listen.

"Do you even miss me?"

The question slips out before Jeongin can stop it, and when you turn to look at him, his lips press together like he already regrets saying it.

"Because it really doesn’t feel like you do."

His voice is soft, but there’s a rawness to it....like he’s been holding this in for way too long.

"I get it," he says, forcing a smile. "You’re happy. You have someone now. But..." His voice trails off, and he lets out a small, bitter laugh. "I guess I just didn’t think I’d lose you completely."

You start to say something, but he shakes his head.

"I used to be the one you told everything to. The one who could make you laugh even on your worst days." He swallows hard, voice growing quieter. "Now, I’m just someone you used to be close with, huh?"

He looks away, hands shoved in his pockets like he’s trying to keep himself together.

"I really liked you, you know."

The confession is barely above a whisper, like he doesn’t even want to hear himself say it.

"But I guess that doesn’t matter anymore, does it?"

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo 

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[hansmic]

𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊

leeknow x gn! reader

summary: After an extended period of being apart—whether due to travel, work, or other obligations—lee know surprises the other with a homemade dinner and a heartfelt declaration that they've missed them more than they expected. The reunion becomes even more special than either anticipated.

genre: fluff, romance

warnings: kissing

word count: 586

————————————————————————-

You arrive home tired, looking forward to collapsing on the sofa but hear Minho rummaging around in the kitchen. His head pokes around the doorframe.

“You’re home!”

He quickly crosses to hug you tightly, and the familiar smell of his skin makes your chest tighten, realising you’ve felt a little incomplete without him.

You bury your face into his broad chest, your arms tight around his waist, and relax for the first time since he left.

“I missed you so much, .” He murmurs, his lips moving against your hair.

“I missed you to my love!” You pull back slightly to look up at him, and he cups your face in his hands; you see him notice the weariness in your face.

“Have you been sleeping well?” He asks, his brown eyes, serious as he searches your expression.

You shake your head, and Minho’s gaze softens.

“I’ve been cooking us some dinner; I’ll finish it while you have a bath and relax.” He kisses you gently.

You feel tears prickle in the corners of your eyes. He has always been caring and thoughtful, but tonight, his affection moves you more than usual.

“I love you,” you whisper, and Minho’s expression shifts; he looks like he might cry too.

“I love you, so much,” He says softly.

You take a bath and put on your comfiest PJs.

Minho is waiting for you, dinner ready, your favourite candle lit. He pulls out your chair to you, and sits beside you, taking your hand.

“Tell me everything. Every little thing I’ve missed,” He implores, smiling softly.

You start with silly things that make you both laugh, and by the end of dinner, you’ve discussed more serious matters, and catch him up with everything going on in your shared life.

“What about you?” You ask, realising you haven’t talked about his news yet.

Minho seems to remember something, and looks a little embarrassed.

“I bought you a gift,” He looks almost bashful, “I didn’t want to get it until I got back… I wanted to give it to you in person.”

He slides a little, velvet box across the table to you.

Inside the box is a beautiful moonstone set in silver with diamonds.

You gasp, and look to Minho, who looks delighted by your reaction.

“I thought it matched your eyes.” He blushes and takes it out.

“May I?” He’s asking to help you put it on.

After he fastens the delicate chain, you run your fingers over the pendant, and his hand, which rests on the back of your neck.

“I love it; it’s perfect, Thank you.” You tell him, your voice thick with emotion.

“I wanted you to have something you could wear all the time, to remind you of how much I love you.” Minho says, looking a little sheepish.

You stand up and pull him close, your lips pressing hotly against his.

He kisses you back, and you can almost feel his smile.

“Let’s go to bed,” He whispers in your ear.

You nod eagerly- he has been gone for a long time, and you want him more than you could put into words.

You lay in bed, his hand slowly tracing patterns on your skin. His head is on your chest, and you run your fingers through his hair, holding him, not wanting to be apart again.

“Promise you won’t leave me for so long, again.” You whisper.

Minho looks up at you, and his expression is intense.

“Never again,” He promises, holding your gaze.

————————————————————————

hope you enjoyed!

masterlist is here!

[s4svnn]

Out of bounds . JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; his love subjected you to the true extent of deception, a merciless lie wrapped in the illusion of paradise, until the truth tore it apart - he was always out of bounds.

↳ Jungkook x reader

↳ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: ongoing

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter Forty Seven

I didn’t think, I just acted. My leg swung back with all the force I could muster, making contact with the person who had grabbed me. They released me instantly, stumbling back, and I quickly turned around, ready to face whoever it was and demand answers.

“Where’s Jungkook?” I shouted, panic and frustration flooding my voice. “Where is Damian?”

But as soon as I faced my attacker, the words died on my lips. My heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. It wasn’t the person I was expecting.

It was him.

Jungkook. Standing right in front of me.

I could hardly believe my eyes. There he was, looking much healthier than the last time I’d seen him. His face was mostly healed now—no more bruises or bandages covering it. Just faint scars from the trauma he’d endured, evidence of the pain he had gone through. His body was still wrapped in bandages, but there was life in his eyes, and that was all that mattered.

I stood frozen, just staring at him, my mind struggling to catch up with what I was seeing. The weight of the last few weeks hit me all at once, and I could feel the lump in my throat, the tears threatening to spill over as the reality of it all set in.

"Jungkook?" My voice was barely above a whisper, shaky with disbelief as I took a hesitant step toward him, my feet almost too heavy to move.

He met my gaze, his face lighting up with that familiar smile, the one I’d thought I might never see again. He looked at me with the same warmth in his eyes, the same teasing glint that made me feel both safe and crazy in love with him at the same time.

“What?” he asked, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “You don’t look too happy to see me.”

The words cut through the fog in my mind, and before I could stop myself, a flood of emotions broke through. The tears I had been holding back for so long came rushing forward, and I moved toward him, almost frantically, closing the distance between us and wrapping my arms around him.

His chest felt like the safest place in the world, and I buried my face against him, crying uncontrollably, my body shaking with the release of all the pent-up fear, confusion, and anxiety that had built up since the moment I’d learned he was missing.

He held me tightly, his arms wrapping around me, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt secure. Safe. Like everything might actually be okay.

“You’re such an idiot,” I said through my tears, my voice breaking. “Do you have any idea how much you scared me?”

Jungkook let out a soft laugh, but it was gentle, filled with the kind of sincerity that only came from someone who truly understood the depth of what had just happened. He didn’t pull away from me. Instead, he just tightened his grip, his fingers stroking my hair in a way that made everything else feel less important.

“I know, baby,” he said quietly, his voice low and filled with regret. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

I pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, still struggling to believe he was really here, that he was really standing in front of me. I touched his face, my fingertips grazing over the faint scars still visible on his skin, tracing the remnants of the pain he had endured. It felt surreal, like a dream I didn’t want to wake up from.

"You’re never doing that again," I murmured, the words almost coming out as a plea. “Do you understand me? You can’t just disappear like that. Not without telling me. Not without me.”

Jungkook looked down at me with that same soft smile, his hand gently cupping the back of my head as he pulled me in closer. His voice, when he spoke, was filled with a calm certainty that soothed the storm inside me.

“I’m here now,” he whispered, his breath warm against my skin. “I won’t leave you again. I promise.”

I felt a small sob escape me at the sound of those words, and I buried my face in his chest once again, allowing myself to fully relax into his embrace. For the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to believe that everything was going to be okay.

I couldn’t even begin to process everything that had happened, but in this moment, none of that mattered. All I knew was that Jungkook was alive. He was here. And for the first time in a long time, I could breathe again.

I stayed wrapped in his arms, feeling the weight of everything finally begin to lift as Jungkook gently stroked my hair. The motion was soft and soothing, grounding me in the moment, making the world around us seem distant, less threatening. I was still crying, the tears had barely stopped, but something about his touch, the tenderness in his movements, made me feel like I could breathe again.

“Stop crying, princess,” he whispered, his voice low, but laced with warmth. His hand moved to cup my face, tilting it up slightly so he could look into my eyes, his gaze filled with an intensity that made my heart skip. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. He wasn’t leaving. He was here, alive, standing in front of me, and nothing else mattered at that moment. The relief was overwhelming, but the tears kept coming, as if my body was finally catching up with everything I’d been holding inside.

"I love you," I whispered, my voice barely above a breath, but it felt like the most important thing I could say in that moment.

Jungkook froze, his arms still around me, and for a second, everything seemed to stop. I felt his gaze on me, his hand still lingering on my back, before he slowly pulled away, his face unreadable as he searched my eyes. "Wait, what did you say?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost in disbelief.

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest. The words felt like they had been locked up inside me for so long, but now that they were out, there was no turning back. "I love you, Jungkook," I repeated, my eyes locked on his, the weight of the words heavy but so freeing at the same time.

For a moment, he just stared at me, and then, without warning, his face broke into a massive smile. It was like the sun breaking through clouds, and I couldn’t help but smile too, feeling warmth flood through me at the sight of him looking at me like that.

"Wow," he said, laughing in disbelief. "So all it took was me getting into an accident to hear you say that?" His grin widened, a playful spark in his eyes. "I'd do it all again if it’s that easy."

I gasped, instinctively hitting him on the arm, my face flushing with a mix of embarrassment and affection. "Don't you dare," I said, trying to sound stern, but I couldn’t hold back the smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth.

Jungkook only laughed harder, the sound so pure and carefree. "I won’t, baby," he promised, his tone softening as he pulled me back into his embrace. "I love you more, always have, always will."

I buried my face in his chest again, feeling the steady beat of his heart against mine, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. The world outside, the chaos, the pain—it didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was the two of us, here, together, and I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

"Wait... where’s Damian?" I asked, glancing around the room.

Jungkook paused for a moment, then sighed, a grin spreading across his face. "About that…" he started, clearly trying to hold back laughter. "He came out of the bathroom, and saw me sitting up, so I said ‘hey’ to him. And he literally fainted right then and there. So now, he’s being tended to by the hotel staff."

I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. "Oh my god," I said, shaking my head, still chuckling at the absurdity of it all.

Then, the laughter stopped, and a serious thought crossed my mind. I looked back at him, my expression changing slightly. "But why the hell did you cover my mouth and grab me like that? I thought someone broke in and took you."

Jungkook winced and looked sheepish, scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry, I thought it was Damian. I didn’t want him fainting again in front of me. I was just trying to prevent a scene."

I raised an eyebrow. "So, you thought covering my mouth would be the solution? You couldn’t have just... y’know, called out or something?"

He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "It was either that, or letting him scream and run away like a chicken. I figured this was the safer bet."

I couldn’t help but smile at his ridiculousness, shaking my head as I crossed my arms. "You’re so lucky I love you, you know that?" I teased, still half in disbelief at his antics.

Jungkook’s grin softened, and he raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah, how about you show me just how much you do?" His voice dropped to a teasing, almost seductive tone, making my heart race.

I blushed immediately, my cheeks heating up as I stammered out, "W-What? I—"

Before I could finish my sentence, he pulled me in for a kiss. This one was different to any other that we shared, this was raw, filled with all the emotions we’d bottled up over the time we’d been apart. His arms wrapped tightly around my waist, pulling me closer as his lips deepened the kiss. I was momentarily lost in it, but then a sharp pang of reality hit. I gently pushed against his chest, pulling back slightly. "Be careful, you’re still not healed yet," I said softly, concern flooding my voice.

Jungkook groaned playfully, clearly not ready to stop. "Great, so now I can’t even kiss my girl?" he complained, looking up at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

His words made me go even redder, as I stuttered out, "J-just wait until you’re healed," feeling my face flush even more at the way he called me his girl.

Jungkook smirked, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, so you’re gonna reward me once I’m better, huh?"

Before I could process what he’d said, my eyes shifted to the door. "Look… there’s Damian," I said, pointing towards the entrance, where a still-shocked Damian stood frozen in place, staring at Jungkook in complete disbelief.

His face was a mix of confusion and awe as he tried to process the fact that Jungkook, who he thought was still unconscious, was awake and standing right in front of us. I couldn’t help but laugh again, my heart swelling with relief as the tension between us and all the chaos seemed to slowly unravel.

Damian blinked a few times, clearly struggling to catch up with the situation. "Wait… are you... are you really awake?" he asked, his voice still laced with disbelief.

Jungkook just smiled, taking a step forward. "Yeah, I’m awake."

Damian just stood there, speechless, trying to comprehend everything as I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

Damian’s disbelief shifted into an overwhelming surge of emotion, and before I could even register his next move, he quite literally launched himself at Jungkook, wrapping his arms around him in an unexpected embrace. "Don’t do that again, man!" Damian cried, his voice cracking as he pressed his face into Jungkook’s shoulder.

Jungkook chuckled softly, his eyes glistening with both amusement and warmth as he gently patted Damian’s back. "You guys are literally the same," he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Aylah just did the same thing you did."

I crossed my arms, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the intensity of the moment. "Can you blame us?" I said, my voice a little shaky as I looked between the two of them. "We thought you were gone."

Damian’s body shook with quiet sobs, his words barely audible as he mumbled against Jungkook’s chest, "Exactly, man. I thought I lost you."

Jungkook’s face softened, his hand moving to rub Damian’s back in slow, comforting circles. "I’m not going anywhere," he promised, his voice low and steady. "I swear, I promise. I’m right here."

Damian, still holding on tight, slowly pulled back from Jungkook, wiping his eyes as he sniffled, looking at him with a mix of vulnerability and something else—relief. He pointed a shaky finger at Jungkook, his voice still slightly trembling but full of intensity. "You better not," he warned, his tone serious now, but there was a hint of the old Damian, the one who cared so fiercely. "Or I’ll find a way to bring you back to life and kill you myself." His words hung in the air, half serious, half playful, but there was no mistaking the raw emotion behind them.

Jungkook’s eyes widened in mock horror before he broke out into a small grin. "Damn, Damian," he laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender, clearly trying to lighten the mood. "I get it, man. I won’t go anywhere, I promise."

I stood there, quietly watching them both. Seeing the way Damian clung to Jungkook, hearing the heaviness in his voice, it made my heart ache. I had known how much they cared for each other, but to see it so plainly, so raw, was a reminder of everything we had been through—and everything we still had to face.

Jungkook met my gaze, his expression softening, and he gave me a nod as if to reassure me that everything was going to be okay. Damian, still processing everything, let out a shaky laugh, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "Yeah, yeah, I guess I’m just glad you’re back," he said, his voice finally steadying.

As the moment of relief settled in, Jungkook’s expression suddenly hardened. His smile faded, and his eyes grew distant for a brief second before they locked onto mine, the weight of the unspoken question hanging in the air. He shifted slightly, as if gathering his thoughts before speaking, his voice steady but filled with a certain edge.

“Aylah,” he started, his tone serious, almost too serious for someone who had just been pulled from the edge of death. “Did you find out who caused the accident?”

My stomach tightened. This was the moment we had all been waiting for, the moment where everything we had been through, everything we had learned, would finally be laid bare. I exhaled slowly, trying to keep my voice calm as I replied.

"Yeah," I said, glancing at Damian before meeting Jungkook’s eyes again. "It was Adam and Jade. They were working together."

Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his confusion evident. "Adam? As in your boss?" he asked, clearly trying to make sense of it.

I nodded, and before I could explain further, Damian spoke up, his voice steady but with a touch of disbelief. "Yeah, turns out they're siblings. Jade’s the one who put Adam up to giving Aylah the job at the cafe. She wanted to keep an eye on her, to make sure she didn't try run back to you."

Jungkook blinked, his jaw tightening as the realization sank in. He looked at Damian, then back at me. "How much did I miss?" he asked, his tone quiet, like he was piecing everything together in real time.

Damian sighed, his hand running through his hair as he began to explain. "A lot. Jade’s here right now in London, and well she’s trying to get to you.” 

Jungkook’s eyes widened as Damian spoke, his expression a mixture of disbelief and anger. "Wait—me, what the fuck does she want with me?" he asked, his voice hoarse with the weight of the revelation.

Damian paused for a moment, letting the weight of the situation settle between us. He shifted, his arms folding across his chest as he replied, "Jade’s trying to take you back to Canada, Jungkook. She wants to keep everything under wraps to make sure the CEO doesn't find out what she's been doing with Adam." His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it, a sense of urgency that I could feel in my gut.

Jungkook blinked, his eyes narrowing as the realization hit. "Wait, what? She’s trying to take me back to Canada?" His voice was low, confused, as if he couldn’t make sense of it all. "How do you know this?"

Damian’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "Let’s just say I had to call on a certain shorty," he said, clearly pleased with himself.

Jungkook’s expression shifted, eyes widening slightly in recognition. "Wait... you contacted Jimin?" he asked, his tone catching as he pieced it all together.

"Yep," Damian said with a nod, clearly proud of the move. "He got all the dirt we need on Adam and Jade, and even managed to obtain a verbal confession from them. They literally admitted to everything so we can use it against them in court."

Jungkook’s face hardened as he processed the information. "Wow. Shit," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair, trying to grasp the magnitude of it all.

Damian gave a short nod. "Yeah, I know it’s a lot to take in. But for now, you should rest. We’ve got the upper hand now so we can deal with all of this tomorrow, when we’ve got a solid plan."

I opened my mouth to speak, the heavy weight of the moment almost suffocating me. "Actually, about that..." I trailed off, unsure how to continue. Damian turned to me, sensing my hesitation.

"What? What’s wrong?" he asked, his brows furrowing in concern.

I took a deep breath before continuing, my voice quiet but filled with the weight of my words. "On my way here, Adam was warning me that I was in danger. He told me to be careful, so my guess is Jade is close to finding out where we are."

Jungkook immediately looked up at me, his expression changing from confusion to alarm. "He warned you? Why the hell would he do that?" His voice was sharp, like he couldn’t make sense of it either.

I hesitated, feeling the words hang in the air for a moment before I finally said it. "Uh... he kinda has a... crush on me."

Jungkook stared at me in disbelief for a second, his brows furrowing deeper. "He what?"

Damian, sensing the tension rising, intervened quickly, his tone firm and focused. "That’s not what matters right now." He paused, letting his words sink in. "What matters is we need to get you out of here, Jungkook. We need to find somewhere safe, somewhere Jade or Adam don’t know about." His gaze shifted between the two of us, the urgency in his eyes clear. "Now come on, you two can talk later. We need to move."

Jungkook took a deep breath, his jaw setting with determination. "Alright," he said quietly. 

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of everything happening pressing down on us. It was clear we were on the verge of something bigger, and whatever was coming next, we needed to be ready.

The drive was long, but it was also a bit of a relief. We were out of the immediate danger zone, heading somewhere that felt like it could be safe for a while. Damian’s old house was tucked away on the outskirts of town, far enough to keep us out of reach from Jade and Adam. He’d called ahead to his cousin, who was looking after the place, to let him know we were on our way.

When we finally pulled up to the house, I couldn’t help but take in the sight of it. The house was massive, much bigger than I expected. It had a kind of charm to it, the kind of place that felt warm and inviting, with lots of space. The front yard was neatly kept, and the house itself radiated an undeniable feeling of love and joy, like it was filled with happy memories. Even though it wasn’t his parents’ house anymore, it still felt like home in a way. The whole place was in great shape, and it looked like his cousin had taken good care of it.

We walked up to the door, and Damian unlocked it, pushing it open and stepping inside. "Make yourself at home," he said, his voice light as he gestured around. "You can choose any room you want. Just make yourself comfortable."

Before I could even fully process everything around me, Damian rushed off to the bathroom. His footsteps faded as I looked around, soaking in the environment. It was quiet, peaceful, and I felt a sense of relief just standing there. But just as I was starting to settle in, I felt a sudden shift in the air. Before I could blink, Jungkook was right beside me, sweeping me up and over his shoulder with a suddenness that left me gasping.

"Jungkook!" I squirmed, half-laughing and half-protesting. "What are you doing? You’re still injured!"

He just chuckled softly, not seeming to mind his own discomfort as he carried me up the stairs with surprising ease, his voice light but reassuring. "I’m fine. Don’t worry about me."

I continued to squirm, my hands pressing against his back as he moved down the hall toward one of the rooms. As we reached the door, he dropped me gently onto the bed, his grip releasing me as he straightened up.

"Alright," he said, his voice now full of playful seriousness. "Explain. You said the bastard has a crush on you?"

I blinked, caught off guard by his sudden change in tone. His eyes were intense, waiting for me to answer, and I could feel my face flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and nerves. I had no idea how to explain Adam’s odd behavior, and now, with Jungkook watching me so intently, I wasn’t sure how to handle this conversation.

"I… uh… well, Adam's been getting way too friendly with me lately, and he may have uh kissed me."

Jungkook's eyes lingered on me for a moment before he asked, "Do you like him?"

The question caught me off guard, but I immediately shut it down, my expression hardening. "No. I fucking hate him," I said firmly, my voice laced with bitterness. "Just look at what he did to you."

Jungkook studied my face, searching for any hesitation, but there was none. "So you don’t like him?" he asked again, his tone more serious this time.

"No. Never," I repeated without a second thought.

At that, Jungkook let out a quiet sigh of relief, running a hand through his hair. "Good," he muttered before scoffing slightly. "I still can’t believe that prick kissed my girl before I could."

His words sent a jolt through me, but I couldn’t help the small smile that formed on my lips. I reached out, taking his hands in mine, my fingers brushing over his knuckles. "His didn’t count," I reassured him softly.

Jungkook tilted his head, eyes darkening slightly as he leaned in closer, our faces now only inches apart. My breath hitched as the warmth of his presence surrounded me. I was sure he could hear the way my heart was hammering against my chest.

Then, instead of closing the gap between us, he leaned in further, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he whispered, "He may have kissed you… but he hasn’t gotten to know your body like I have."

My entire body ignited at his words, a deep warmth spreading through me as I pushed him back with both hands, my face burning. "S-Stop!" I stuttered, flustered beyond belief.

Jungkook only grinned, leaning back with that cocky smirk of his. "Sorry, princess. I forgot how nervous I make you."

I scoffed, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing just how much he was affecting me. "I’m not nervous," I huffed, turning on my heel.

I made my way toward the bathroom, needing a moment to collect myself. As I reached the door, Jungkook called out behind me, his voice dripping with amusement.

"Uh-huh. Sure you’re not. I’ll be waiting."

I slammed the door shut behind me, exhaling deeply as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My face was flushed, my breathing uneven, and my entire body was still buzzing from his words. After washing my face and freshening up, I took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom, feeling much more composed. But the moment I entered the bedroom, my brows furrowed in confusion.

Jungkook was lying under the covers, sprawled out comfortably like he owned the place.

"Excuse me," I said, crossing my arms. "This is my room."

Jungkook simply smiled up at me, completely unfazed. "Wow, you're really gonna kick your boyfriend out?"

I froze. "B-Boyfriend?" I stammered, my face instantly heating up.

His smile only deepened as he propped himself up on one elbow. "Yeah. Am I not your boyfriend?"

I narrowed my eyes, trying to ignore the way my heart was practically leaping out of my chest. "You haven’t even asked me out properly," I muttered, crossing my arms tighter over my chest.

Jungkook let out a soft chuckle, sitting up slightly. "In my defense, I was going to ask you out on the day of the accident."

At the mention of that day, my expression faltered, the weight of everything that had happened sinking in again.

"It's fine," I murmured, glancing away.

But Jungkook reached out, his warm hand gently guiding me to sit on his lap. I let him pull me closer, my hands instinctively resting against his chest as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Let me get better," he said softly, his gaze locking onto mine. "Then I promise, I’ll ask you out in the way you deserve."

A small, sheepish smile formed on my lips, my heart swelling at his words. Jungkook leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to my forehead, his touch gentle and reassuring. 

“Plus I need to be in good shape if I want to fuck my girl properly.”

I let out a frustrated groan, my face burning as I smacked Jungkook’s chest lightly. "You always know how to make a pure moment dirty," I huffed, unable to meet his gaze.

Jungkook just laughed, his chest vibrating beneath my palm. "What? I’m just speaking the truth, I need to make you feel good to make up for the lost time," he teased, his hands settling on my waist.

"Shut up," I huffed, pushing against his chest, but he didn’t budge. Instead, his grip on my waist tightened slightly, keeping me in place. 

"Admit it," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "You like it when I tease you."

I let out a startled noise as he suddenly rolled us over, pinning me beneath him with ease.

“Jungkook—”

“Relax baby,” he whispered, his lips brushing my forehead before pulling back just enough to meet my eyes. “I just wanna hold you. That okay?”

My heart clenched at how sincere he sounded, my face growing hot all over again. “…Yeah,” I murmured.

I let out a small breath, feeling the warmth of his body pressed against mine. My heart was still racing from the way he had effortlessly flipped me beneath him, but now, with his arms securely wrapped around me, there was nothing teasing or mischievous about him—just warmth, comfort, and something deeper, something I wasn’t sure I was ready to name out loud yet.

Jungkook rested his chin on top of my head, his fingers idly tracing patterns on my lower back. “You’re really stuck with me now, you know,” he murmured. “Hope you’re ready for that.”

I smiled against his chest. “I think I can handle it.”

He hummed, clearly pleased with my answer. “Good. Because I plan on being all up in your space for the rest of your life.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes even though he couldn’t see it. “So clingy.”

Jungkook pulled back slightly, raising a brow. “You’re one to talk. You were literally sobbing in my arms an hour ago.”

My face burned. “Shut up.”

He grinned, obviously enjoying himself. “It’s okay, princess. I like it when you’re soft for me.”

I groaned, pushing against his chest. “I hate you.”

Jungkook let out a deep laugh, shaking his head. “No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, I do,” I grumbled, still squirming.

His grip tightened as he easily kept me in place. “Nope. You love me.”

I huffed, knowing I wasn’t winning this. “…Fine, maybe a little.”

Jungkook beamed. “A little?”

I smirked. “Yeah. A little.”

He tsked, shaking his head. “Guess I’ll just have to make you love me more, then.”

Before I could react, he ducked down and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of my lips.

My breath hitched.

His eyes twinkled with mischief as he pulled back just enough to take in my dazed expression. “See? Already working.”

I smacked his chest, feeling my face heat up for the millionth time that night. “You’re insufferable.”

Jungkook just laughed, pulling me closer as he buried his face in my neck. “Yeah, but I’m your insufferable.”

I sighed, my lips curling despite myself. “Unfortunately.”

His chuckle vibrated against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. “Keep pretending, baby. We both know you’re obsessed with me.”

I groaned. “Go to sleep, Jungkook.”

“Only if you stay here with me.”

I rolled my eyes, but my body betrayed me as I melted further into his embrace. “…Fine.”

He grinned against my skin. “Good girl.”

I smacked his chest again. “Go. To. Sleep.”

He only chuckled, tightening his arms around me. “Night princess.”

I let out a small sigh, closing my eyes as I whispered, “Night.”

[everestgale]

Last night, I got hit with a really bad insomnia, and to help myself with it, I tried writing... and I wrote some Skeptunist, of course I did. I'm not really a writer, but I like the way I wrote parts of it. So sure, it can live here :]

This is a prelude to my "It was in your nature" comic from a couple days ago, written from Skeptic's POV, still a bit OOC, still part of this random betrayal AU. Also, "the card game night" refers to this fic that inspired the comic and, subsequently, this writing exercise.

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

_________________________________________

Skeptic made a huge mistake, and he knew it.

What was he thinking? Why did he corner Opportunist like that and try to force him to open up on the spot? Of course, it did not work. It was a stupid idea-

Skeptic sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He wanted to blame Smitten for erroneous advice, but deep down, he knew it was his fault. Smitten merely suggested that Opportunist might want to be closer to people, to open up to someone. He was the one who made that entire plan. He pushed Opportunist too far out of his comfort zone. He let the emotions get in the way. Skeptic wasn't used to this; normally, he was the rational, level-headed voice, the one who used logic to let everything fall into place.

But not then, not on that treacherous card game night. Not when he needed to exercise most caution, when he was investigating and dealing with someone so tricky and so…

…weirdly fragile?

Another sigh. Skeptic buried his face in his left hand, the claws lightly scratching his temples. He knew he needed to stop, none of these thoughts or feelings were helpful. All he could do now, Skeptic thought, was wait and observe.

And so the days went on; Opportunist barely acknowledged Skeptic's presence, acting just polite and cheery enough so that other voices wouldn't get suspicious, but nothing beyond that. Skeptic had no choice but to follow along: he knew any attempts to talk first would only cause the sly voice to retreat further. He expected this to be the case for a long while-

Until one day, Opportunist walked up to Skeptic as though nothing happened.

At first glance, it almost looked like everything came back to the way it was before the card game night. Opportunist, bright-smiled as always, gave Skeptic sugary compliments, did small favors for him, spoke with him sweetly and softly. It almost looked like it all worked out, like Opportunist chose to, in the end, trust him again…

…but Skeptic knew Opportunist and his habits too well to believe this carefully crafted lie.

The smiles were just a little too forced, little wrinkles giving away the facade. The compliments were just a little too sweet, too exaggerated for how Opportunist normally does it. The favors were done just a little too eagerly, as though Opportunist kept forcing himself to do them to keep appearances. The sugary sweet tone of Opportunist's voice had a slight bitter edge to it. The bright orange eyes lacked that little spark when their eyes met, something that Skeptic didn't notice until it was gone.

Skeptic never thought that knowing too much could hurt.

Logically, he knew exactly where this was all leading to. Skeptic was in this strange tango with Opportunist, after all, and everyone knew how Opportunist acted when threatened. It was only a matter of time, and Skeptic knew it.

And yet he willingly stepped into the trap.

Why did he have to fall for the backstabber?

[andcars]

[ 𝗙𝗜𝗩𝗘 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗦 ] Mondays in Monaco

premise. you're kind of an emotional gal. you've cried or felt stumped more times than you can count—but you can count five. those five in comparison to the one time that daniel needed help feels like a balance in your relationship. well, the start of a balance anyways.

tags #ㅤangst, hurt/comfort, daniel ricciardo exits formula one for the last time, emotional fluff, reading is a singer-songwriter but that's barely anything in the plot wc #ㅤ 1.9k

ㅤㅤFEEL FREE TO INBOX ME FOR THOUGHTS OR REQUESTS !

| MASTERLIST⠀TAGLIST⠀PATREON GUIDE⠀MONDAYS IN MONACO

ONE

The credits rolled down the screen. The melancholic soundtrack fades into silence.  Tears streamed down your face with your head turned away from Daniel. Despite that, the man’s eyes have been more invested in watching you than the film. It's embarrassing because you think you've cried just about three times with this movie. Daniel, notedly, has smiled and giggled three times as well.

"Hey," he said, a grin killed into the tone of his voice. He pulled you into a hug, laughter spilling from him. "Come on now, don't be shy. It's okay to cry. It was a sad movie."

It was a sad movie. That was not the problem. The problem was that Daniel couldn't stop making fun of you. Your fist collides with his chest as you whine. Enchanté is now stained with your tears for a doomed family. “You’re mean!” you complain, “Absolutely heartless. Not even—not even once crying for the dad!”

“I did cry!” It's not obvious when he's still laughing.  "Heartless. Seriously heartless.” You feel his tattooed hand smoothen the creases on the back of your shirt, a comforting feeling as he moves you close. Your body pressed against his, the tease from his words nothing to the want to be in his arms. Despite all of it, you’re pulled into his lap and allowed to cry in peace.

TWO

It's never a surprise how ruthless the media can be. The headlines screamed at you from the screen: "Ricciardo's New Flame–Another Investment?"  The comments section was a sea of incels with their dicks dry and heart the Sahara.  Most of their comments are about how you're a distraction to him. Everything about you is a barrier to his first world championship.

You felt dread coiling in your stomach. Dating Daniel came with accepting that you won't be the only one who will. From male fans to female fans to children really, all of them will look at your boyfriend with stars in their eyes. You're nothing special. The distance closing between the two of you though, is a unique fragment of his and yours relationship.

Daniel found you scrolling through the articles, your face monochromatic. He immediately knew something was wrong. He sat beside you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders.  "What is it?" he asked, his voice concerned. While you closed your phone, he already saw the large text.

He frowns as he pulls your phone down as if that will bury the news. "They just want to talk," he said, his voice firm. "It's like they don't get any entertainment from me going around in weird shapes every now and then." That makes you laugh. He likes that you've laughed.

Daniel does his best as he closes you in between his chest and the mattress.  "You're amazing," he said, your face in his hands. "No one can actually say no to you. If you're a distraction, then I would love to have my eyes on you anytime. Nothing else should matter."  His lips on yours are a big FUCK YOU to every journalist out there with nothing to do. You almost want to post it on his account.

THREE

Coming out of musical hibernation for months, you need to write something. Your job is fun. You get to work out all your problems and thoughts in a creative way. It can’t be a job when you enjoy it. However, you’d been staring at a blank page with white noise playing in your head.  Frustration gnawed at you. Your notebook, thick with words, suddenly pale and deficit of any good ideas.

Daniel, also a man who enjoys his job, gives you food. You’ve been holed up in your bedroom and he looks eager to pull you out. You’re proven right when he hums, asking,  "Writer's block?" 

You nodded, sighing.  "It's just… nothing's coming.  My head is still in summer break, basically."

He puts his hand over the notebook, "Sometimes," he starts, "you need a breath of fresh air. No offense but your apartment isn’t the best for any air or even natural sunlight to get in.”

True. Fuck New York, you guess.

So then he takes your hand and pulls you away from your hellhole. Privacy is a privilege but the two of you go outside like nothing matters. The city doesn’t have the best walking experience but you make do. His fingers lock with yours, and he gives you more ideas to write a song of emotions than you ever had in your notebook.

FOUR

Weeks apart, separated by continents, race schedules, and shootings, the world is distance has driven you wild. It has been agonizing. You’ve counted the days until the both of you could meet. When the clock has turned the last second, you’re waiting patiently in Nice for the sight of Daniel.

When the familiar curly head is seen at a distance away, your body feels lighter. You always tell yourself you can deal with the distance. But as he closes the much-hated distance between the two of you, your tears swell and suddenly you’re just a crybaby in his arms.

A huff leaves him as you bump into his chest. Like instinct, his arms wrap around your body. "I missed you so much," you sob, holding him tight as if to never let him go.

His embrace is more than familiar.  "I missed you too," he whispers, his stubbled jaw pressing against the top of your head, "Missed you so much."

You don’t think of yourself as overly emotional. However, is it that bad that your heart is a jar of emotions? You can’t forget him now that you’ve had him. Every second of your life has been left yearning for him. Daniel is a man that you don’t want out of your reach. It’s embarrassing and almost obsessive. It’s a comfort that you know he feels the same when he refuses to even let you shower alone when the two of you get to Monaco. 

FIVE

It’s something that was going to come sooner or later. You knew that. You’ve been excited about it for months and you’re not one to back out last minute. But as boxes clutter your apartment, there is a tug on your chest.  You were excited to finally move to Monaco with Daniel. It’s the next step of your relationship.  A pang of sadness tugged at your heart.  You were leaving your life in America, your friends, your family, everything familiar. You barely even got out of the state before you met Daniel.

He finds you sitting amidst the boxes, a dark expression over your just previously excited face. “Hey,” he greets, a smile forming for you to mirror, “Reminiscing?”

“Maybe,” you think about it again, “Yeah. I really am.” You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. "I'm excited," you are, you one-hundred percent are, "but I'm also going to miss everything here."

Sentimentality is always a big trait in your soul. It matches Daniel’s own. He squeezes your hand, kissing it with the softness of his lips.  "It’s not like I’m whisking you away forever. We'll come back to visit," he promised. “You have your friends in Monaco to help you settle in. I’m sure my bed is very familiar with you as well," he smiles, dangling the idea of you relaxing in the comfort of your shared bedroom. 

"And besides," he’s adding with a grin, "you'll have me." That’s probably the only thing you’re going to need

PLUS ONE

Days. Weeks. It's been a topic in the media for months. Daniel and you haven't had a rest because no one wanted to fucking tell Daniel if he still had a job or not. You've skipped the days to spend time with Daniel. Not a single day passed without you tailing him. You're not quite sure how he would be if it wasn't for you ready to catch him.

On the day of the Singapore race, there's nothing on his face. He's gloomy as his entire body has all of the joy sucked out of him. Daniel isn't… Daniel isn't himself, but at the same time, this has been the most truthful he has ever been.

You think that he knows even a slight idea. Still, he doesn't tell you. But you know it from when he tells you to go back home first, go back to the hotel and prepare for a nice break just before Austin. The smile on his face was too pained to be real.

Daniel is found out on the starting line, just in front of where he started earlier. You don't think he registers you there until you're sat next to him. “I think Max is going to treat you out soon,” you tell him, startling him from his thoughts. “One extra point. Maybe it's going to be like Abu Dhabi again.”

It was also Daniel who witnessed that monumental moment. Fucking McLaren. “Maybe,” he says, voice cracking, “Maybe he will let me go easy on Padel?”

His eyes are glassy with tears. He's not crying but you see his red cheeks and the tiredness in his eyes. You've seen him at his best that you almost don't know what to do when he's at his lowest. You know him to be always in his best shape.

"Daniel," you pull him in, "it's going to be okay."

You see the exact moment he crumbles down. His head falls and you're carrying the weight of Daniel. He sobs into your arms and you want nothing but to wrap him until he feels safe. “It's not over,” he tells himself more than he tells you. “I'm still going to meet them. I still have more to give.”

“I know you do,” you coo, patting his back as he quivers. “You have so much more. It's not the end, Daniel. It's not the end.” 

His body is heavy with all the words being thrown at him the entire season. Washed. Weak. Past his prime. Daniel has been a strong man with how he's carried himself and you for the past year you've been dating. You don't think you've met a stronger man than him.

He goes quiet. You let the silence simmer but you just know his head is full of things. This is going to be the best you're going to do—

“Honestly, the movie we watched wasn't even that sad,” you tell him. He looks up at you, questioning. “I think I was just sad that the father couldn't return to his kid for a few times. Looking back, the plot would've been easily fixed if they had just talked in the beginning.”

He laughs, “You see my point? You're a softie.”

“Yeah, yeah.” 

You tell him about the news articles, and the stupidity of journalists who report nothing but celebrity gossip. You tell him about the song you made after your stump, it being the catalyst of your now-fame. When the two of you cried at the airport, both of you laugh from how dramatic you two made it when it was only a month of not seeing each other physically. You two called every day. Moving in was probably the best moment in your life as well. You remember it so well.

He’s not crying but there's worry lines fading from his face still. “I think life is just about ending things,” you tell him, “a movie, a shitty relationship article, a writing block, a long distance relationship, and the past. There's always something more to look forward to.”

You cup his face, smiling up at him as you wipe the remains of his tears. “Hey, we can always go karting together. I'm sure their car is way better than the one you're driving now anyway.”

He laughs. The news comes out quickly and the both of you are in a karting area in New York. You don’t think you’ve seen him happier.

@Delululeclerc @hiireadstuff @rtorresblog @Jamie2305 @nichmeddar @vannylen2144

FOOTNOTE ────── anddd here is another angsty for daniel ricciardo. man i miss him. hope he's having the time of his life but i do NOT want to watch f1 without him this season. ugh

[ronmanmob]

Thoughts on Ron  👓

That Affect He Has (and part of how he copes with it)

The effect flat affect has on Ron's ability to express his emotions facially and vocally is quite profound. No matter where or when he's found in writing it'll be there, though time's passing - and access to better support and understanding of his condition in modern settings - lets him learn to cope with and combat (with varying degrees of success) the most visible and audible signs of the struggles he has emoting. He'd loathe sitting for speech therapy -- it's too vulnerable a thing, even in modern times, for him to stomach. But the one session he'd attend before jacking it in would yield an interesting suggestion that would stick.

"You like music, right Ron?"

"--Yeah."

"So sing along."

And he would. Invariably it'd be when he was alone - so that vulnerable bit weren't exposed, right? - but he'd work himself up from mouthing along to getting some voice along with it and while there'd be no revelation of intense vocal talent there...it'd help. For all he struggles with keeping track of his own tone and pitch, he can hear it in others when they're singing. And he can mimic. And he can learn through mimicry what the right notes sound and feel like as he picks up spits and spats of melody and purrs along low in his chest.

[maskedbyghost]

arranged marriage with simon. yes i am talking about this again.

simon doesn’t talk much about the marriage at first, but his actions say it all. he insists on carrying your bags, walking on the outside of the sidewalk, and making sure you eat enough during missions. you don't ask him why, but it's clear he's claiming the role of protector, even if this was supposed to be temporary.

he won’t admit it, but simon begins to get used to the little domestic routines. you cooking dinner, him taking care of repairs around the house. it feels too natural, and although he never says anything, he’s already mentally putting the two of you into that “forever” category.

the first time you mention needing space or wanting to stay in a separate room, simon just gives you a look. "what do you mean, separate? we’re married." he’s not joking either. to him, this isn’t a temporary arrangement anymore. if you try to argue, he’ll just pull you close and mutter in your ear, "ring’s on your finger. means you’re mine." and that’s the end of the conversation.

he starts doing small things for you that a husband would—restocking your favorite snacks, making sure your gun is cleaned before missions, and slipping extra blankets on your side of the bed when it’s cold.

after some time, he’s not shy about touching you anymore—brushing a hand against your arm, holding you a little too close when you’re out in public. the more time passes, the more his touches become possessive, like he’s reminding you who you belong to now.

simon is up early, always. you’ll wake up to the smell of coffee, and he’ll have a cup ready for you without asking. if you take your time getting out of bed, he’ll mutter, "c’mon, mrs. riley. don’t make me drag you out." but there’s always a smile on his face.

when you share a bed, simon always pulls you into him at night. no matter how much space you take up at first, by morning, you’re wrapped up in his arms. if you stir in your sleep or seem restless, he’ll murmur, "got you, lovie," without fully waking up, his grip tightening as if to remind you he’s there, keeping you safe.

simon doesn’t open up easily, but after a particularly intense moment, he’ll lean in close, his forehead resting against yours, and he’ll whisper, "don’t care if it was for a mission or not. you’re the only one for me now." it’s not a grand declaration, but the sincerity in his voice makes your heart race.

simon will leave subtle marks of possession on you—his dog tags hanging around your neck, his scent clinging to your clothes, and his bite marks on your skin after an especially heated night. "need everyone to know who you belong to," he’ll growl against your skin, his lips trailing kisses down your neck.

he also has an odd obsession with your wedding ring. he’ll turn it on your finger, kissing it softly whenever you’re close. if you ever take it off for some reason, his brow furrows, and he’ll slip it back on. "keep it on, yeah?" his voice is low, almost pleading. "means something to me."

after a particularly dangerous mission where you were almost hurt, simon corners you in the hallway, eyes filled with emotion. "you’re not leaving me," he growls, pinning you against the wall. "ever. understand?" it’s a statement, a vow, and in that moment, you know you’re his forever, and he’s yours.

when you’re lying in bed together, his arms wrapped around you, simon will sometimes whisper, "mine," into your hair. it’s soft, almost inaudible, but you feel it in your bones. he needs the reminder just as much as you do—that you’re his, and he’s never letting you go.

[loveanddeepthroat]

Baby Blues

Pairing - Sylus x f!MC

Summary - In the first two weeks of being new parents, the dynamic hasn’t been quite what you and Sylus expected. He’s eager to be involved, but your daughter doesn’t seem to have warmed to him.

Word count - 2.7k

⚠️Warning⚠️ - Mentions of pregnancy and childbirth. Hurt/comfort, fluff, and a little sprinkle of angst.

Your newborn didn’t like Sylus.

It sounded ridiculous, but you know he was thinking it too. You didn’t have the gall to say it out loud—not that it even needed to be said. The fact was definitely lingering between you both.

You never thought much of why she would wriggle and kick up a storm in your stomach whenever he touched the swell of your belly, but you now had an inclination that it was because she didn’t like his hands there.

It was strange and upsetting, but he didn’t seem too hurt by it so far, only silently helpless as he watched you do everything. You were two weeks postpartum, so your emotions were already all over the place. It seemed as though Sylus was holding his own feelings back to make room for yours, and when you had asked him about it, he simply kissed your forehead and reassured you that he was fine. All while your screaming daughter cried for you against his chest.

Not that he opened up to you all that often. You did manage to get things out of him with a push sometimes, but he was like an unyielding gate, refusing to open to anyone.

Your exhaustion was only adding to the toll on your fragile emotions. The baby only wanted your touch, and sleep was almost impossible for you because of that very reason. Only you could feed her. Only you could soothe her. Only you could touch her.

That was one thing that was really getting to Sylus. The bloodshot whites of your eyes as you rocked the fussy newborn to sleep and fed her at all hours of the morning. The barely touched plates of food that ended up stone cold and in the bin. Not to mention the completely non-existent ten minutes you needed to at least have a wash without having to run out of the shower to her aid.

He must have felt quite useless in the weeks where you should be recovering, but he didn’t want you to worry about his feelings by indulging you in his thoughts. 

Your pregnancy had been smooth, ending with a good twenty-seven hours of rather torturous labour, and pushing that went on for an agonising two hours. It had all been worth it, though. Your little bundle of joy with tufts of platinum hair had finally greeted you both with a piercing wail, but eased her protests once placed against your heaving chest.

You just wished she would settle with both parents.

It was another day of desperate wailing, your arms becoming so heavy with the exertion of having no option but to hold her. You tried to put her in her pram for Sylus to push her around for a while, but her cries only increased to the point of her little face turning purple. You couldn’t sit and just listen to it, and you absolutely would not ignore her—no matter how much Sylus pushed for you to go and get some sleep.

“She wants me,” you say for what felt like the millionth time that week.

Sylus was evidently reluctant to stop trying, but he wouldn’t keep you from her. He conceded with a defeated huff, watching your every move as you gently lifted your screeching daughter out of the plush pram. Her screams died down quickly as you placed her against your chest, her ear-piercing wails whittling down to soft whimpers.

“Of all the dangerous paths I’ve crossed and violent challenges I’ve encountered, it’s our newborn daughter who finally defeats me,” he mumbles quietly, trying to make a lighthearted joke about it.

You tried to smile at his attempt to add a bit of humour to the situation, but the comment only made you cry. Hard.

“Hey.” He immediately stepped toward you, rubbing a large hand up and down your back soothingly. You had to give it to him, his patience with you in the last two weeks had been immaculate. “Don’t cry, sweetie.”

You couldn’t stop, your ragged breaths and shaking shoulders refusing to relent. “I d-don’t get it,” you bawl. “What are we doing d-differently?”

Sylus sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. His hand continued to rub soothing circles against your back to ease your upset. “Well, she did live inside you for nine months. Besides, you didn’t exactly like me either when we first met.”

He smiled faintly, tilting his head down to capture your gaze. Despite the obvious tease, he still seemed to be holding himself back. It was frustrating him more than he wanted to admit to you. You knew he was protecting your feelings, but you wished he would just show some sense of vulnerability.

You don’t dare set your sleeping daughter down in her moses basket, knowing full well that she would just wake straight back up. So the rest of the afternoon is spent with your tiny newborn curled up against your chest, a few feeding and changing breaks in between.

Once the day turned into night, nothing in the world sounded more appealing to you than a hot shower, a hot meal, and a hot cup of tea. But letting her scream and cry while you did that was not an option. It wasn’t fair on her, and it wasn’t fair on Sylus.

He didn’t leave you unless he absolutely had to throughout the day. You watched him every time he heard a little whimper from the baby, his hands flexing and twitching. Every time you had to get up to do something for her, he was either at your back or side.

He wanted to help.

The chef brought through a very large bowl of marinated chicken and pasta for you, upon Sylus’s instruction. As soon as the bowl was set on the little table beside your recliner chair, you almost began drooling. You hadn’t managed to eat much at all in the chaos, and Sylus wasn’t amused when you didn’t even get the chance to finish the two biscuits he’d brought you earlier in the day.

You reached a careful hand over to the fork, not even lifting it before your daughter began to wriggle and whine in your other arm. Dropping it immediately, you retract your hand, only making it halfway back to the fussy newborn before long, slender fingers wrapped themselves around your wrist.

“No,” Sylus says firmly. “Absolutely not.”

Your initial response is to immediately go on the defence. “She’s cry—”

“I know she’s crying,” he interrupted tightly. “I know. But you’re going to eat while your food is hot, and you’re going to do it without our screaming daughter on your chest.”

“But—” 

“No buts.”

He had that commanding look in his eye, the one that would intimidate most, but was only used on you when he was especially adamant on you doing something necessary for yourself. 

You were a little relieved to see him so passionate, if you were being honest. He had been treading on eggshells to not upset you or the baby for fourteen whole days, and it wasn’t good for anyone. You felt the tension on him every time you both managed to get into bed together for more than five minutes. He needed this little outburst.

“This needs to stop now. I’m going to figure her out, and you are going to eat. Alright?” His tone left no room for argument, and the more your daughter protested against your intention to eat, the more hungry and tired you felt.

It wasn’t easy, but you handed her off to him carefully, swallowing a lump in your throat. You couldn’t take your eyes off of her distressed little face as Sylus attempted to cradle her.

You were practically twitching, your legs about to push the footrest of the recliner down to retrieve her in the first thirty seconds she was away from you. Sylus noticed immediately, and pushed it back up with his foot before you could close it down fully.

“She’s not in any danger,” he said calmly, but his whole body was visibly tense. “She’s right here, I won’t leave the room. Just eat, sweetie.”

You wanted to protest further, but he wasn’t going to yield this time. His eyes remained trained on you until you finally sagged back into the chair, and it wasn’t until you picked up your fork that he finally turned away, focusing on the distraught newborn kicking up a storm against his chest.

He held her the way you did, one hand cupped over her head to keep it steady while the other hand softly patted her back. Why she didn’t want to be near him was an utter mystery to you, he wasn’t doing anything incorrectly. 

You couldn’t eat while the two most important people in your life were quite clearly in a distressing situation before you. “Are you alright?” You asked him gently, hoping that he would answer you.

“I will be if you eat,” he quickly responded, not looking at you.

Sighing, you stab a slice of the chicken onto your fork, just looking at it for a moment. Your brain had managed to kick itself into gear as you forged a new approach to his silence. 

This was an opportunity to head in the right direction.

“I’ll eat if you speak to me.”

Blood red eyes shot in your direction, an eyebrow raised. “Blackmail?”

You quickly shook your head. “You were right, this does need to stop. Starting with you shutting yourself off from me.” 

“Eat.”

The forked piece of chicken points straight at his unamused face. “Talk.”

He shook his head a little in clear annoyance, the stress consuming him. Your daughter continued to wail, immune to the warmth and safety of his arms. He was basically trapped after promising to remain in the room with you.

Your bleary eyes held his irises of rubies, neither of you conceding. It was a mental challenge to ignore the fragrant aroma of garlic and fresh basil beneath your nose, but you were not eating until at least one of the two beautiful people before you had calmed down.

Sylus visibly swallowed, finally giving in as he noticed your lack of a bluff. “Do you think she knows?” His voice was quiet, barely heard over your newborn’s cries.

“Knows what?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again, nodding his head towards the piece of chicken on your fork. You shovel it into your gob, eager for him to continue.

His eyes flicker down to your daughter before he speaks again. “Do you think she knows that I’ve done terrible things? Do you think that’s why she doesn’t like me?”

“I—” you grumble and roll your eyes as he nods to your plate of food again, waiting for you to take another mouthful that you end up having to speak through, “I don’t see how she could. Is that why you’ve been so quiet?”

The corner of his mouth curled upward ever-so-slightly. “Missing my tongue, kitten?”

You couldn’t help your own smile as his shoulders sagged a little from where they were practically touching his ears. It wasn’t often that he opened up to you like this. You almost always had to pry or throw in a proposition to coax him into speaking.

You took another bite of your food, moving the plate from the small table to your lap. “Do you really think she doesn’t like you?”

His smirk faded away quickly, a gentle thumb brushing over your daughter's head. She continued to cry, but the volume had dropped a little. “Do you not think that?” He asked.

You didn’t know how to answer that question. To tell the truth, you did think that, but not for the same reason he was thinking.

“I think she may be a little attached at the moment. We’re very different shapes and sizes. Maybe she feels—”

“Unsafe?” 

His tone had dropped an octave—something you didn’t think was possible considering the already bone-chilling vibrations of his voice. Never before had you witnessed him in a state of such vulnerability. He was insecure about this, and it was finally starting to show.

You went to stand up to be near him, but he immediately stepped forward to halt your movement.

“Eat.”

Not wanting to lose this free-speaking Sylus you had barely met before, you did as he said, twirling a fat mouthful of pasta onto your fork for extra brownie points.

You both remained in silence for a few moments, only your fork scraping against the bowl in your lap marrying with the sounds of your baby’s cries surrounding the small sitting room.

Sylus’s gaze didn’t leave the newborn cradled in his arms, a gentle sway in his hips as he tried to keep her moving. All you could do was study his composure, seeing it as it cracked.

After a moment, he looked back at you. “I don’t want to keep failing you.”

You coughed on the mouthful of the creamy pasta at his words, completely in awe of his confession.

Failing you? How did he get to that conclusion?

“You’ve done everything for her,” he continued, not allowing you to immediately reassure him. “I want to be able to do everything, too. For both of you.”

The all too familiar sting in your wet eyes built in intensity by the second, and you quickly found yourself sniffling.

Not only was he insecure about your daughter not feeling safe in his arms, but he felt that he’d failed you both in the past two weeks. It was heartbreaking for you to hear.

“Don’t cry—”

“You’re…fuck, Sylus. You’re not failing anyone,” you tuck your fork back into the pasta with a loud sniffle, ignoring his glare that silently demanded that you continue to eat. “How the hell did you come to that conclusion?”

He looked entirely reluctant to answer, his head dropping back down to stare at his tiny twin. You didn’t want him to stop speaking again, so you quietly picked your fork back up, hoping it would capture his attention.

The silence stretched between you as you made the effort to eat for his sake. Even your daughter's cries became a little weaker—like she was pitying him.

He didn’t look at you as he said, “I’m the bad guy. The boogie man. The kind of monster that parents threaten their kids with visits from in the middle of the night if they don’t brush their teeth before bed.”

“Not in our story, you’re not,” you quickly reassured him earnestly. “You’re the husband and father who keeps the monsters away from your family. That’s the only Sylus she will ever know. The real one.”

He still didn’t look up from the newborn, now almost completely silent in his arms, but you catch a subtle bob in his throat. You didn’t need him to respond to you. You knew you had said the right words to soothe that self-deprecating thought in his complicated mind. You could see it.

“Have I told you how perfect you were two weeks ago,” he asked, knowing full well that he’d told her every day since then.

Your mouth curled into a soft smile. Even after all these years together—after welcoming your first child into this scary, yet beautiful world—Sylus had no trouble giving you butterflies.

“I think you might’ve mentioned it,” you hummed softly.

And on that very note, the baby was fast asleep in his hold for the very first time in two whole weeks. His face didn’t reveal anything, but you knew he was relieved. All he wanted to do was make this easier for the both of you.

Finally, you had managed to figure out what the problem had been all this time.

“You were too tense,” you point out quietly, noticing how openly at ease he now was. “That’s what she didn’t like.”

He hummed in response, unable to tear his gaze away from the sleeping babe in his arms. You didn’t say anything further, letting him enjoy that special moment in peace while you proceeded to enjoy the rest of your meal.

Despite the challenges of becoming new parents, things were going to be alright from that point onwards.

A/N - Hello! I hope you enjoyed this oneshot, thank you so much for reading. Just to let you know, I do take requests ❤️

[vrystalius]

Not saying “I love you“ back to the Squid game men.

How will they react if you don‘t say it back? In what scenario would they not say it back to you?

Pairing: The Recruiter, Thanos, Nam-gyu, Dae-ho, Gi-hun, In-ho x gn!reader

Summary: Them not saying “I love you“, their reaction to you not saying “I love you“

Genre: fluff, a lil bit of angst sprinkled on top

If you’re interested, here’s more fluff! Calling the Squid Game men some weird petnames and their reaction to it!

(Pre-Squid game)

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

Gong Yoo // The Recruiter // The Salesman

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It barely ever happens, really. He adores everything about you, from your face, voice, body and the ground you walk on; that man is ready to worship you like a devoted follower would to the most merciful goddess. Therefor he would always be aware of how to make your day a little better, even if it‘s just a small “I love you” or a gentle kiss here and there.

The first thing you hear from him in the morning is a groggy voice mumbling a small “Good morning love...” into your ear while warm kisses were trailed down your back.

While standing in the kitchen and searching the fridge for any signs of a tasty breakfast, a small “I love you, I‘ll be back later!“ would echo slightly through the apartment as the front door closed.

Once, he did forget to say his usual I love you on the way out. He thought about how he possibly could forget? You‘re probably overthinking everything now and think what you might‘ve done wrong or do to offend him. You didn‘t, though! He was just too caught up in perfecting his appearance because his damn hair refused to obey and submit to his meticulous styling.

The poor man was almost scared to come home. As some sort of peace offering, he bought some of your favorite take-out food alongside some dessert, flowers and a new bracelet he thought you might like. Anything to try and make you know that he does really love you.

“Apologies, it completely slipped my mind. It will never happen again my sunshine. I love you.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

His face may be neutral and his expressions calculated but his features soften up immensely when you show even an ounce of affection. His smirk shifts into a dreamy smile, the crinkles around his mouth shifting and becoming bigger, his eyes twinkling just a little. He just can’t suppress when you even look at him.

Your kisses and words energise him, gift him life, so whenever you don’t give him that little boost of dopamine, he gets visibly more tense in a way.

The silence that followed after his usual “I love you my darling, I’ll be back later!” was almost eerie to him. He stuck his head back into the kitchen to check if you even heard him. You glanced back at him for a moment and gave your husband a dismissive head nod. So you did hear him?

Silently, he left the apartment and went on with his usual day during that time of the year. For some reason, today he is especially looking forward to slap his elders for loosing a damn children’s game. His face remained neutral and had his usual smirk on his face, but deep inside, he’s offended, confused, worried, stressed; all the negative emotions someone can feel after their spouse doesn’t reincorporate ones affection.

Do you want a divorce? Because hell no, he’d never let you go no matter how hard you

But once he got a little text message on his phone that read a simple: “Need cuddles in bed later pls. Got some snacks too. Love you.”, all of his worries washed away in an instant. You probably were still too sleepy to answer this morning.

A smile spread over his face as he thought about slipping into your arms tonight. Isn’t it ridiculous how he melt like putty in your hands?

“You forgot something this morning and it did worry me a lot. But it doesn’t matter, it’s silly anyway.”

Thanos // Su-bong // Player 230

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It’s actually quite rare to hear Thanos say “I love you” word for word. He still feels awkward committing himself to the relationship you have and those three magic words feel so heavy on his tongue, so he’ll rephrase them to suit his level of comfort. “Love ya”, “Thanos loves you” and “Me too” are his ways to dodge the action to reincorporate those sweets words you shower him with.

Thanos only really says “I love you” if you two are alone, sober and you holding him in your arms. To be cradled by someone he admires, cares and loves so much makes him want to cry for some reason, but he suppresses those emotions and instead buries his face in your shoulder as your hand soothingly runs up and down his back.

Those are the times you hear a small “I love you…” being mumbled against your warm skin.

So quiet it’s almost unnoticeable, yet it was there. You know Su-bong needs time to get used to everything, so you’ll settle with a small audio message-rap in reply to your usual “I love you” text message.

“Back to the kitty ‘cause she kinda pretty, I can’t stop looking at her ti- ti- ti-face.. Anyways, thinking of you babygirl. Iloveyatoo.” (You barely caught him saying this the way how quietly he mumbled it into the mic)

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

It’s fine. It’s cool. You don’t have to reassure him every day that you love him, it’s totally fine. You still love him like you did the day before.

It causes a deep panic inside of Thanos when you don’t give him his usual “I love you” text in the morning after he had woken up. He kept checking his phone like a madman, while he was brushing his teeth, peeking his arm and head out of the shower in the middle of shampooing, staring at his text messages while microwaving himself an convenience store meal. Nothing.

Not wanting to reach out first and appear clingy, he decided to write you like he is not having a full blown eternal panic attack. A small voice message here, a picture of his food there, a selfie from the bottom to show off his double chin, anything really.

You replied like normal but still, his eyes searched for the three key words. I. Love. You.

Thanos doesn’t want to admit to himself or to anyone for that matter that your calls, texts, hell, you coming over is like the most addictive drug to him. And he had his share of all kinds of colourful drugs.

His foot was nervously tapping the ground while his finger kept ringing your poor doorbell until you were forced to answer. He gave you a close look up and down, his lips formed into a pout of sorts.

“You okay? You didn’t text me you love me this morning. It’s totally cool and all but like… do you want to break up with me or something?”

Nam-gyu // Player 124

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Similar to Thanos, at first, Nam-gyu barely ever told you how much he loved you, liked you even. He just assumed you already knew and his actions were enough. A small side hug there and ruffling your hair here had to be enough for the rest of the week anyway.

He is guarded, afraid of commitment and to be frank in belief that you’re using him for the longest of time. Maybe you’re just “dating” him to get access to high-end drugs, all kinds of clubs or whatever else reason there is there to date him but for love.

You had to say those three magic words first for him to get comfortable with the thought that you are actually just want to date and love him. It came to him in the middle of a night shift at a random club he was supposed to promote. A moment of enlightenment.

Nam-gyu hid in a bathroom stall with his phone and ignored whatever the couple was doing next door, writing you a whole paragraph about what he was thinking, feeling, before deleting everything again because he thought he’d come off as some kind of pussy if he’d sent that.

His first time telling you how much he loved you was at your place. A casual evening watching some random movie you picked out while being arms deep in a bag of chips and dressed like a homeless person, Nam-gyu was staring up at you as if you were the most beautiful person in the universe even during this ungraceful moment of yours, admiring you in silence until finally…

“I love you.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you…

Did he fuck up again? Do or say something wrong? Don’t you love him anymore? Was there someone else?? His thoughts go ballistic as he stared at the screen of his phone with a deadpan-expression, trying to shake the crippling fear and nervousness off while looking nonchalant.

Nam-gyu’s finger kept hovering over the call button to check on you in case something happened because there could be a whole other person talking to him by how there were no affirmations at all.

He doesn’t want to appear clingy or too attached to you as that may scare you off or even disgust you, so Nam-gyu’s casually mention that one time you didn’t say “I love you” while fidgeting with his ring, trying to appear indifferent about it while intensely watching your facial expression shift to try and detect if you’re lying about your reasoning or not.

Your boyfriend is afraid to not be good enough, too much, too little. Your little affirmations give him reassurance, every day a little more until he’s full convinced that you do really, really love him.

“Hey, uhhh. Did you forget anything today?… No? You sure? Mkay.”

Dae-ho // Player 388

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Never happens. Either he is dead and not able to reply to you or already said it multiple times throughout the day. Dae-ho has separation anxiety and gets nervous when he doesn’t have you in line of his sight or not around him in general, that’s why he always tells you how much he loves you whenever he can.

Off to the bathroom? I love you. Bringing the trash out? I love you. Getting dressed? You’re gorgeous and I love you. You could be simply existing and Dae-ho would bury his face in your neck and mumble a soft I love you into your warm skin, his lips planting a soft kiss here and there.

Dae-ho is just a little scared about saying his usual affirmation in front of his family, mostly his father. He’s a very affectionate and physical man but he still wants to look like the tough-marine-son his dad wants to see.

His sisters know better though, they see how their brother’s eyes twinkle in delight when you help his mom out in the kitchen with the dinner.

He does make it up to you after coming home though. Your boyfriend will stuff the leftovers his mom gave him into the microwave and usher to you made yourself comfortable on the couch while he makes some preparations to completely pamper you for the rest of the evening.

Sometimes Dae-ho’ll even try to flirt a little but he’s still a little awkward in that department.

“Hey, do you want some snacks with that? A drink? O-Or am I enough of a snack…?”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you…

Every time Dae-ho tells you that he loves you, you always reply with equal enthusiasm. How could you not? That golden retriever of a man gets that almost childish smile of his whenever you kiss his cheek or just tell him that he looks handsome today.

Once, you tested how he’d react when you don’t give him his hourly dose of dopamine by deflecting or ignoring his touches.

As his arms securely snaked around your waist and gently pulled you against his torso, you paid him no mind and continued to stir the ramen in the food container. He watched the noodles move in circles and gave your waist a gentle poke, trying to pull your attention to him. Dae-ho’s eyes slowly dimmed and the edges of his smile turned downwards.

The silence made him seriously nervous. You could feel his rapidly increasing heartbeat drum against your back.

“Hey… is everything okay? Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry. Can you talk to me?…”

Gi-hun // Player 456 (post s1)

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Gi-hun always reassures you of his love, even during arguments. He wants you to know that he cherishes and loves you for the rest of his life and that you are his everything. Whenever he doesn’t say I love you, something must’ve happened.

He has been missing for a whole week and you had no idea where your boyfriend went. Gi-hun didn’t leave a note, a voice mail, no nothing!

And after he returned and suddenly began giving you expensive gifts, the same boyfriend that used to ask you for money to get himself an convenience store dinner, now began buying you new headphones, bracelet and whatever else you even eyed.

It was nice, sure, but you were more worried about his mental state. He was paranoid and quiet, kept checking his whole body for some kind of tracker and barely ever spoke what was on his mind. Gi-hun began having panic attacks and you were barely able to leave his side because of how terrified he was to leave you alone.

He barely touched you, gave you kisses or affection. He changed after whatever happened during that week he went missing.

While running your fingers through his hair, trying to make him fall asleep after being awake for two days straight, he sleepily stared up at you through his dyed-red hair. His voice was quiet, broken almost.

“I’m sorry. Please… know that I love you. I love you so much.. Don’t leave me, please… please...”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

Your boyfriend called out to you but you didn’t quite hear what he said, so you replied with an “yeah!” and just hoped that that’s an appropriate response to whatever he tried to tell or ask you. It wasn’t.

Gi-hun stood there for a couple of moments, waiting on your reply to yelling “I love you!” across the whole apartment. When nothing came, he didn’t call out to you again. You were probably busy with something or don’t want him with your right now, he gets that.

Later though, thoughts of self-doubt began to cook up inside his mind. As he bit all his nails to shreds he overthought about how you had enough of him now. Maybe you are falling out of love now after how the death games fucked up his mind and body. You’re surely fed up with his paranoia and secretive behaviour, how much he has been obsession over finding a weird salesman. Surely.

The metallic taste that spread inside his mouth after biting the skin surrounding his nails began to open and bleed finally pulled Gi-hun out of his self-destructive thoughts that continued to circle like a toy train. Picking up his throwaway phone and choosing the one contact he saved on every single burner phone he had as “Reason to smile ❤️” and pressing the call button.

“Gi-hun? What’s wrong?” Your voice forced a small smile to form on his face. He hesitated

“Hey. Just wanted to ask if I should bring some take out home tonight. That’s all.”

In-ho // The Frontman // Player 001

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It’s purely just to tease you. When bored, In-ho will make you his greatest entertainment.

He likes making you annoyed and flustered, so he’ll intentionally ignore you just to make you react and pout at him adorably while he was trying so hard to keep his stone cold face and not break into a shit-eating grin and maybe even pull on your cheek to make you whine even more.

In-ho adores your whole being and cherishes all of your affections, so he’ll let himself get showered in them any tome he can.

Expect you to he cuddled up on his lap while he was leaning back in the leather chair, mumbling a complaint about how you covered his whole face in kisses but managed to miss the bridge of his nose. He will not allow you to move off his lap until you covered his whole face in kisses again as compensation for that mistake of yours.

So, In-ho’ll intentionally not give you affection so you pay even more attention to him. He is like a cat in that way weirdly enough.

Once you finally break his facade, the flood gates will open and you will be showered, bathed, drowned in his affection, physical and verbal.

“Fine. I’ll say it just because you’ve been so good to me today. I love you, my dearest, lovely darling.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

In-ho has a dedicated frequency on his walkie-talkie for you, so he can call in and ask you to come to his office for a kiss that cannot wait, to inform you that he is in the bedroom and retiring for the day or just to tell you that he loves you randomly throughout the day.

Of course, you’d always reply back with your own gadget, but to pay back his infinite teasing he has done to you, you decided to ignore him the way he sometimes does to you. Payback.

Your husband called into your frequency. “Dove, are you free right now? Come to my office, I miss you.” and so your game begins. You simply ignored his request and continued getting comfortable in your bed and all the sheets surrounding you, grinning to yourself as you awaited the next time In-ho calls in again, for which you don’t have to wait long for.

“Darling, I am waiting. Do you want me to send someone to pick you up?” Your grin widened as you heard how impatient he was slowly getting with the lack of your response. “I can see you in the bedroom.” That one caught you off guard. Did he install cameras in your shared bedroom??

Almost on cue, your bedroom door opened, revealing the masked Frontman. His shoulders were tense and you could feel his intense state through the mask. You stared back, not expecting how quickly your husband would cave in and visit you himself. Innocently, you batted your lashes at him.

In-ho slipped his mask off and carelessly tossed it on the nightstand. “Why are you ignoring me? Are you upset or just moody?” Unimpressed, you silently glared at him. He gave you an equally uninterested look and leaned down to your face to give you a small peck on your cheek. “Not enough. More.”

A chuckle escaped his lips as his lips cracked into a smile.

“Demanding, aren’t we? Fine. As you wish.”

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading <3

Watch me announce that I’m going to post In-ho’s yandere profile and proceed to get hit with the most ungodly group-assignment in Chemistry. Anyways, take this as an apology! Had to write a little fluff for them since the only thing I’m finding is smut 🙏😭 I’m not complaining but this fluff prompt came to me like a truck during a class of mine. It was originally inspired by this post and I made a similar one before for the Demon Slayer hashira. Check it out if you’re interested!!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33