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mononijikayu · 5 months ago

Text

think about things — fushiguro toji.

“I don’t want to mess this up, babe.” he finally admitted, the words coming out in a low, almost reluctant rumble. “I don’t want to mess him up. I don’t want to be like my father, babe. I wanna be a good father to him. I want to love him so much and I just….” Your heart ached at the rawness in his voice, at the vulnerability he rarely let show. You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his middle and pressing your cheek against his chest. For a moment, he stiffened. He always did, as though he wasn’t quite used to comfort—but then he relaxed, his arms circling around you. “You won’t mess him up, baby.” you said softly. “You love him. You won’t end up like your father. You love Megumi, he is our treasure. That’s why you love him. That’s what matters most. And you’re trying. That’s more than enough.”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: intense fluff, romance, mild-angst, pet names (baby, babe, treasure etc), love, humor, light-hearted, parenthood, married life, healthy relationship, newborn baby, being in love, slice of life, domestic life, family, anxiety, emotional trauma, emotional suffering, self-doubt, encouragement, depictions of anxiety, depiction of healthy relationship, depiction of married life, depiction of parenthood, depiction of self-doubt, depiction of emotional trauma, mention of familial issues, mention of childhood trauma, mention of emotional suffering, mention of breast-feeding, husband! toji, mamaguro! reader, baby! megumi, normalize having a proud house-husband and father at home, ladies, gents and non-binary friends!;

WORD COUNT: 7k words

NOTE: after writing so much sad stuff, i knew i had to write something really cute and something relatively happy, for the most part. i asked my beta reader what they wanted to see from me - toji or gojo and they said toji. and well, here we are. the song this is based off from is called think about things by daði freyr.

also what megumi accidentally said was ゴミ which expresses waste/garbage, encompassing things made by human acts. precious little megumi intended to say ごま which is sesame. megumi is still only a few months old!!! he's still learning how to speak!!! in any case, i hope you enjoyed this. i love you all!!! see you in the next one <3

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FUSHIGURO TOJI THINKS HE’S NEVER BELIEVED IN WONDER. From the moment he was born, such a thing did not exist. Not even his mother believed it. Not even when he was born. But he thinks that after her sufferings, he wouldn't doubt it that he too inherited such grief and pain too.

Even having grown up in a sorcerer clan, where he saw things that could make anyone go in awe — nothing about it had made him feel like there was anything worth the thought. Nothing about being a Zenin was worth wondering or for that matter, worth remembering.

But everything after that, especially when you came into his life, did he think they were possible. That wonders did exist in this life and he could have it. He was worth having. He was worth giving such wonders to.

And everything about wonder, he had learned from you. Every sense of the word, the texture, the taste, the feeling. Everything started when he met you. Every good thing sprung into life, like spring, when he met you.

Fushiguro Toji believed that each person has only truly had three special wonders in their lives, nothing more and nothing less. It was almost something out of a genie’s lamp. Three wishes, three gifts, three wonders.

And Toji likes to think that he’s used up all his three wonders. But he was alright with that. He liked to think that he was content with having used it up. Because everything about his life now consisted of those three wonders.

The first was when he first saw you, and then smiled at him so warmly. The second was when you agreed to marry him and spend the rest of your life with him. And the third? Oh, nothing could ever beat the third. That day when you made him a father, the day when your precious son Megumi was born into this world.

Toji couldn’t help but stay there for a moment, his large frame silhouetted against the soft light spilling in from the hallway. He didn’t dare move too quickly or too loudly, worried that even the smallest disturbance might wake his precious son Megumi. And yet, despite the quiet, his mind was anything but still.

He had fought the worst of the worst in life, faced death more times than he could count, and lived a life dictated by survival. But none of that had prepared him for this: the weight of fatherhood.

Not the kind of weight that came from responsibility or the logistical burdens of raising a child. No, this was heavier. This was the realization that he was holding the entirety of someone else’s future in his calloused, scarred hands.

When Fushiguro Megumi had first been placed in his arms at the hospital, Toji had frozen. The baby was impossibly small, a bundle wrapped in a soft blanket that felt foreign against his skin.

Toji had stared down at the little face, this precious little face and saw that little face be endlessly red and then pale. He saw that face turn red again as the features scrunched up and echo into those heart-wrenching fits of crying.

For a split second, all he could admit to was his heart racing so fast against his chest. He was nothing but panicked. Toji never thought he would ever end up finding himself terrified of something.

He was terrified that he couldn’t stop his baby from crying. He was terrified of how small he was, and how big his hands could be to hold something as precious as this little boy. Just as fast, Toji had ended up thinking about all the things he didn’t know: how to soothe him, how to feed him, how to even hold him properly.

He didn’t know how to. How does a father look tenderly at his baby son and tell him it’s going to be alright? How does a father let his voice be the calmest and quietest comfort in the world? How does a father have soft kind hands with such scarred, brutish hands?

Toji couldn’t help it but he stood there, holding the most precious wonder in life and had just as quickly thought of all the ways he might fail — panicked and afraid, wondering if there was ever going to be a chance that he’ll end up doing well. That he’d end up doing right by this precious wonder, this precious treasure.

But now, almost eight months later, Fushiguro Toji stood here watching his son sleep, something shifted.

His little Megumi’s tiny fingers twitched again, his expression relaxing into something peaceful. He was so precious in this way, Toji thinks. The world stops and becomes a bright wonder for his son.

Toji’s lips quivered into a crooked smile, a tender warmth spreading through his chest that he hadn’t known ever existed before he’d had his little boy, his precious treasure. He crouched down, resting his forearms on the edge of the crib, and let his voice drop to a murmur, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the moment.

“You’re so small still, hm?” he said softly, almost as if confessing to the baby. “Smaller than I thought. And yet you are growing so much. Even bigger than back at the hospital, when you were born. But... I guess it’s cos you’re a big boy already, aren’t you? Our Megumi’s already growing, huh? Doin’ everything you could to be stronger.”

For a moment, he couldn’t help but hesitate as his fingers brushed against Megumi’s back. His little son moved slightly, against the touch. He must know his father was here. But Toji felt weary about waking his little son up.

He was up for a while, and only just fell asleep a while ago. But Megumi went back soundly to sleep. And Toji felt some relief. His precious boy is going to get some rest tonight.

“Hey ‘gumi. I’m gonna be here, okay? Not like my father.” His voice felt thicker at those words, despite the fact that Every step of the way. I don’t know if I’m good at this... but I’ll try, kid. I’ll always try.”

The words came out unpolished, unpracticed, but there was a rawness in them that surprised even him. Toji never thought of himself as the sentimental type, but Megumi had a way of drawing things out of him that he didn’t even know were there.

Maybe it was the way your little son had come to look like you, or maybe it was the undeniable fact that your precious treasure named Fushiguro Megumi was part of him—a part he didn’t know he could love so much.

As he continued to watch, Megumi stirred again, this time letting out a tiny sound that made Toji’s chest ache. He reached out hesitantly, his hand hovering over the crib for a moment before finally brushing against the baby’s blanket-covered chest. It was a small, tentative gesture, but it felt monumental.

“I don’t know what you’ll think about the world, or me one day, you know?” Toji murmured, his voice almost a whisper now. “But I want to know. Someday, when you’re big enough to talk, I’ll listen. To every little thing. And until then... I’ll keep trying to figure this out.”

The baby’s breathing deepened, a soft sigh escaping him, and Toji let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He straightened, glancing down at Megumi. The truth was, Toji had never expected to live a life where someone else depended on him.

He’d grown up in a world where strength was currency, where attachments were liabilities, and where survival meant keeping your guard up at all costs. That was how it was when you were born a Zenin. No ifs, no buts.

He had lived in the shadows of loss and anger for so long that the idea of something so beautiful and uncorrupted and pure, something as delicate and innocent as his precious treasure Megumi—felt almost impossible to comprehend. And for that pure existence to be born from him, because of him.

Toji couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t real. That something with such a cursed existence as him could ever have something like happiness. And yet, here he was. His precious son, born out of love between you and him. And he could see him.

Even now as he’s standing outside that room, chest tight with a strange combination of fear and determination — he convinces himself that his son was here, his precious son was here, because he loved him. Because he loved you. And he deserves this. This was the life he deserves. He always will.

For a moment, he closes his eyes and takes a breath. Before long, he whispers a good-night to his little one and flees to the living room, just near his son’s room. If Megumi gets hungry, he’ll bring him some of your milk stock from the fridge. There was no reason to wake you. You still had work later.

He goes to the couch and closes his eyes again. He had to go and get some rest here. If he comes back to bed, he might be too loud when he gets back in. And he’d want to be there quickly if Megumi needed anything. That’s what he was here for, as your loving house-husband. But he finds that he can’t sleep.

Even now, he still can’t help but feel restless. What if he gets too much sleep and he doesn’t wake up? He had to make you and Megumi breakfast in the morning too. He opened his eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling before a soft voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Toji? Baby?”

It was you, standing a few steps away, wrapped in the oversized robe you always wore around the house. Your hair was slightly mussed, your face soft with the haze of sleep, but your eyes were sharp, focused. You must have noticed the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched and unclenched as though he was wrestling with himself.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, voice gentle but edged with concern.

Toji turned to look at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with a small, almost sheepish shrug, he nodded. “Yeah. He’s asleep.”

You stepped closer, your hand finding its way to his arm. Your touch was grounding, and Toji found himself leaning into it without realizing. “You’re sure? You look... tense.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Tense, huh? Guess that’s not wrong.” He glanced back at the door, his voice dropping to something softer, more vulnerable. “I was just... thinking.”

“About?”

“About him.” His blue–green eyes met yours briefly before flickering away, as though the weight of his thoughts was too much to share directly. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, you know? I look at him, and... he’s so small. So... breakable. And I—”

He stopped, biting back the words, his brows furrowing. You squeezed his arm gently, waiting for him to find the rest of his sentence. You knew that your husband has had a lot of concern about being a father.

He’s told you some of what he’d experienced as a child, and sometimes about his father. But not everything. So, this was the first time you’ve heard things from him personally, this loud and this vulnerable. Your face contorts at his pain.

Your heart ached at the rawness in his voice, at the vulnerability he rarely let show. You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his middle and pressing your cheek against his chest. For a moment, he stiffened. He always did, as though he wasn’t quite used to comfort—but then he relaxed, his arms circling around you.

“You won’t mess him up, baby.” you said softly. “You love him. You won’t end up like your father. You love Megumi, he is our treasure. That’s why you love him. That’s what matters most. And you’re trying. That’s more than enough.”

He let out another shaky breath, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head. “Trying doesn’t feel like enough,” he muttered. “Not for him. He deserves... more.”

“He deserves you, baby.” you corrected, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “The you who’s here, who’s holding him, who’s promising to be there. That’s all he needs. That’s all we both need.”

For a long moment, Fushiguro Toji just stared at you, his blue-green eyes searching your own bright orbs as though trying to find something he couldn’t quite name. Finally, he nodded, a small, almost imperceptible dip of his head. His face looked a little bit more relaxed, with your reassurance.

“Yeah…..” he said quietly. “Okay.”

You smiled, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of his face. “Come on. Let’s get some rest. You’ll need your energy when he wakes up in the middle of the night.”

“Babe, I should stay here—”

“No, no. You have super hearing, baby. You can get up when he wakes up. Come on, stop being a helicopter parent already and let our son sleep.”

Toji groaned softly at your words, but there was a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he let you guide him down the hall. For now, he would take things one moment at a time. One step at a time.

Because for all the uncertainty, for all the fears that lingered in the back of his mind, one thing was clear: he had a family now. A real one. And for them, Fushiguro Toji would do anything.

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YOUR MATERNAL LEAVE IS FINALLY OVER. So in a way, the house was quieter now. Quieter than Fushiguro Toji had expected it to be with a growing baby around, though the stillness wasn’t something he disliked.

And with how you’d gone back to work today, leaving him to take care of Megumi for the first time on his own. So Fushiguro Toji was certain, he was going to have all hands on deck.

He’d joked about it before you left, tossing off some comments about how hard it could be. But now, standing in the living room with his tiny son in his arms, he was realizing it was more daunting than he let on.

He’d had you around the house for a long while and he had gotten used to it. He had become a rusty house–husband and more so, an already rusty father.

Fushiguro Megumi couldn’t help but fuss a little, with his little face scrunching up in that telltale way that meant a cry wasn’t far behind.

Toji sighed a little, looking softly at his precious boy as he shifted him gently, cradling him against his chest and bouncing on his heels like he’d seen you do a hundred times before.

“Hey, ‘gumi. Easy, okay?” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I gotcha. No need to get all worked up.”

Megumi quieted, though his tiny fists still curled and uncurled against Toji’s shirt. Toji looked down at him, his expression softening. Tired as he was, he was always content when he looked at his son. Everything pays off.

It wasn’t often he let himself feel this—this quiet kind of contentment. But when he was holding Megumi, feeling his warmth and hearing his little breaths, it was impossible not to. Everything Toji does, everything you both do; it’s all for Megumi.

“Toji?” You’d asked that morning, lingering by the door as you prepared to leave. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“Me?” he’d scoffed, smirking. “I’ve handled worse than a baby, you know. I’d be fine with our son, babe. Trust me.”

But now, hours later, Toji found himself pacing the living room, humming softly under his breath to keep Megumi calm. A melody came to him,something his mother used to sing. It was very rare for his mother to hold him for that long, that he’d remember. But she’d held him enough to hum melodies to him. Those were Toji’s first memories.

They weren’t overcomplicated tunes, if one was to hear it. If anything, they were the kind you don’t think about too hard—something simple, warm, and steady. But sometimes, he’d remember the lyrics. And Toji would find that those words would stir something in his little son, as much as they do for him, remembering his own mother.

Toji didn’t know if his voice was good enough to be heard, or to be enjoyed in a song. But Megumi seems to not mind his voice. If anything, little Megumi seems to be fond of his voice. And Toji relished that thought. He might not be the best in the world in singing, but he’s glad that at the very least, it comforts his son.

“When we are together….” he sang quietly, his deep voice surprisingly tender. “There isn’t anywhere that I would rather be.”

Megumi stirred, his dark blue–green orbs tiredly blinking up at his father, and Toji couldn’t help but smile softly at the sight. He kept rocking his little boy gently, the words of the song coming easier now, as though they belonged to this moment.

“Three birds of a feather…..” he continued, his lips quivering in a half-smile, memories of his mother flooding his mind. “I just hope you enjoy our company.”

His little son couldn’t help but gurgle softly at his words, and Toji took that as a good sign, his confidence growing. He walked to the large window overlooking the bright flourishing garden he had planted and let the beckoning sunlight spill over them both.

“It’s been some time and though hard to define, as if the stars have started to align…” He continued to sing softly. Toji looked down at Megumi again, his expression uncharacteristically gentle. “We are bound together, now and forever. And I will never let you go.”

His little baby boy cooed, his little hand reaching up to grasp at the fabric of Toji’s tight shirt. Toji stilled, staring at the tiny fingers that clung to him as though Megumi understood every word he’d just sung. He couldn’t help but snicker.

“Yeah, you and me, kid.” he murmured. “And mama, too. Never forget your precious mama, hm? We’re always going to be three birds of a feather, okay?”

The quiet stretched on as Toji carried Megumi back to the couch, easing down into the cushions while keeping the baby close. He thought about you, about how hard it must have been for you to leave this morning, even though you tried to hide it. He thought about how much you trusted him to take care of Megumi, how much faith you had in him to do right by your son.

And as the baby drifted off to sleep in his arms, Fushiguro Toji felt it again—that strange, overwhelming sense of belonging. It wasn’t something he’d sought out, and it sure as hell wasn’t something he thought he deserved. But as he sat there, holding Megumi, he realized that this was it. This was everything.

When you returned home later that day from work, you were tired. But you couldn’t stop smiling. As you got closer inside you found them both on the couch. Your husband Toji was leaning back, his head tilted to the side, dozing lightly. Your treasure, little Megumi, was nestled against his father’s chest, his little hand still clutching at Toji’s shirt.

You stood there for a moment, your heart swelling at the sight, and whispered. “Three birds of a feather, all three of us. Just like you said, huh, baby?”

And though Toji didn’t stir, a faint smile tugged at his lips, as if he’d heard you all the same. You stepped closer, the quiet creak of the floorboards barely stirring the peaceful scene in front of you. Toji’s chest rose and fell steadily, his broad arms wrapped protectively around Megumi.

Your heart swelled as you watched them, a moment of stillness in your otherwise chaotic world. It wasn’t a sight you’d ever imagined when you first met Toji, but now, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Careful not to wake either of them, you crouched by the couch and reached out, gently brushing your fingers through Megumi’s soft hair. His tiny face was relaxed, his mouth slightly open in the kind of sleep only babies seemed to achieve. Your gaze shifted to Toji, his sharp features softened by the faint glow of the setting sun spilling through the window.

“Toji, baby.” you whispered, keeping your voice low. “I’m home.”

His bright blue–green eyes cracked open, the colors of his irises catching the light. He blinked slowly, as if pulling himself out of a dream, and then his gaze landed on you. He processed the world and it stopped when he looked at you. Like when he met you. A small, lazy smile crept onto your husband’s beautiful lips.

“Hey, babe.” he murmured, his voice rough from sleep. “You’re back. Welcome home.”

You nodded, your fingers still brushing over Megumi’s hair. “How was it? Your first day as the primary stay at home parent for the first time?”

Toji huffed a quiet laugh, shifting slightly without jostling Megumi. “Didn’t burn the place down, did I?”

You grinned, leaning your chin on the edge of the couch. “I don’t see any scorch marks at all, baby. I’d say that’s a win.”

He snorted softly, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his expression—something vulnerable. “He’s… a lot quieter than I thought he’d be. I’d always thought that young kids would be like that but….Megumi spent most of the day just watching me like I was some kind of puzzle he was trying to figure out.”

“That’s Megumi for you, you know?” you said, your smile softening. “He’s always been observant. Like someone else I know.”

Toji raised a brow, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he looked down at the baby in his arms, his hand shifting to rest against Megumi’s back. For a moment, he was silent, and then he spoke, his voice quieter this time.

“He’s a good kid, our little ‘gumi.” he said, almost to himself. “He doesn’t even cry much. Just stares at me like he’s waiting for me to say something smart.”

You laughed softly, careful not to wake the baby. “And did you?”

“Course not, babe.” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “But I… I talked to him. Sang, too.”

Your eyes widened slightly. You slowly smiled. You loved your husband’s voice too. And you were certain that your love for his voice was transported to your son too. “You sang to him, baby?”

Toji rolled his eyes, though a faint blush crept up his neck. “Don’t make a big deal out of it, babe. He seemed to like it, that’s all.”

Your heart melted at the thought of Toji singing to Megumi, his deep voice wrapping around words meant only for his son. You reached out, your hand covering his where it rested on Megumi’s back.

“You’re doing great, baby.” you said softly. “You know that, right? I’m so proud of you.”

He glanced at you, his expression guarded for a moment before it softened. “I’m just… figuring it out as I go. Don’t wanna mess this up.”

“You won’t, baby. I’m certain about your success.” you assured him. “Not with how much you care about him.”

Toji didn’t respond right away, but his grip on Megumi tightened slightly, as if to anchor himself. After a moment, he nodded, his gaze dropping back to the sleeping baby. He lets out a relieved sigh before letting a small smile echo on his lips.

“Yeah, I guess so.” he murmured. “We’re figuring it out. The three of us.”

“Three birds of a feather, you told me before.” you said quietly, the words slipping out before you could think about it. “We’ll figure it all out.”

Toji’s lips echoed into a bigger smile, and he glanced at you, his green eyes warm. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

As the sun dipped lower, casting a golden glow over the room, you stayed there by the couch, your hand resting over his. It wasn’t perfect, and it wouldn’t always be easy.

But as you looked at the two of them, your husband and your son, you felt the stars aligning. You were bound together, now and forever. And none of you would ever let go.

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TODAY WAS A DAY OFF. So Toji had let you doze off for a little while longer. He thought that with how you were trying to still settle with balancing life as a new mother and also a career woman, it takes a toll on you.

And more than anything, you deserve a chance to have some chance to just relax. So, you hadn’t noticed how long you had actually slept until you saw the clock by your bedside table. 10:30 am. You sat up immediately.

The moment you stepped out of your room, you tried to be as quiet as possible. A smile echoes across your lips as you find yourself stopping and listening for a moment. You could hear Toji’s deep voice coming from the living room.

It had that playful lilt he used only with Megumi—low and teasing, with just a hint of childish mockery. You smiled to yourself as you moved toward the source of the commotion.

In the living room, you found the two of them on the floor. Your two boys had a little bubble of their own. And you suspect that they've had that bubble since before dawn. Megumi gets angsty and wakes up at that time, wanting some milk.

Your husband Toji was sitting cross-legged, Megumi perched in front of him on a soft play mat. Your son’s little face was scrunched up in what could only be described as a glare, his tiny fists clenched at his sides. Your husband Toji, still rather oblivious to the budding storm brewing in his child, was grinning like an idiot.

“Megumi, hey..... kid….what’s that look for?” Toji was saying, leaning down so their faces were at the same level. “What’s with that intense focus, huh? You pooping or what? You gotta let papa know, so he can prepare. Your poop goes nuclear, you know that? Papa smells it on his hands even after he washes, hm?”

Megumi let out a frustrated sound, his little glare intensifying, which only made Toji laugh harder. “Yeah, you’re definitely working on something, aren’t you? What’s it gonna be, huh? A big one?”

“Gomi!” Megumi suddenly blurted, his little voice sharp and determined as he glared daggers at his father.

Fushiguro Toji couldn’t help but freeze up. He found himself blinking in surprise. For a moment, the world stood still as he tried to process what his little son just said, as perhaps — his very first word.

“What?” he asked, tilting his head like he’d misheard. “Did you just call me gomi?”

You couldn’t hold back your laugh anymore, clutching the wall for support as you doubled over. The absurdity of the situation, paired with Toji’s stunned expression, was too much.Your son was always so full of surprises.

“Oh my god, baby…..he called you trash!” you managed between laughs.

Toji turned his wide-eyed gaze to you, his mouth opening and closing like he was trying to figure out how to defend himself. “Hey, wait a minute! I don’t think he meant—”

“Gomi!” Megumi said again, louder this time, pointing a tiny finger at his father. His glare hadn’t wavered in the slightest, his baby cheeks puffed out in sheer indignation.

“I swear to the heavens above…” Toji said, now more flustered than you’d ever seen him. “I’m not gomi! What the hell, kid?!”

Still laughing, you finally found your balance from the laughing fits. You walked over and lowered yourself as you scooped Megumi into your arms, kissing his head as his tiny arms flailed indignantly. Your husband’s frown was evident frustration.

“I don’t think our son’s not calling you trash, baby.” you said, wiping a tear from your eye. “He’s trying to say goma. Sesame. He’s been seeing it in TV commercials when I feed him some milk these past few nights. He might have caught up with it and babbled it and…it just didn’t end up as translated.”

Toji stared at you, then at Megumi, who was now nestled against your chest, still glaring at him like he’d committed the ultimate betrayal. “Sesame?” Toji repeated, frowning. “Why the hell is he glaring at me, then?”

“Maybe because you keep asking him if he’s pooping, baby.” you said with a grin, bouncing Megumi lightly to calm him down. “Honestly, baby, would you want someone to do that to you?”

Toji groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Great. First real word he says to me, and it’s calling me gomi, babe. Kid’s already taking after you.”

You snorted, pressing another kiss to Megumi’s cheek. “Don’t blame me because he’s got taste, baby. Our son takes after his mother well!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Toji grumbled, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone. He reached out and ruffled Megumi’s hair, despite the baby’s continued glare. “Fine, kid. I’ll let it lose this time okay? You win this time, hm? But papa is not a gomi, got it?”

Megumi didn’t respond, but the glare softened just enough for Toji to let out a relieved sigh. “That’s what I thought. Just like your mama.” he muttered, before looking back at you. “Are you laughing at me the whole time?”

“Absolutely, baby.” you said with a grin. “And I’ll be telling this story forever.”

Toji groaned again, but you caught the corner of his mouth twitching upward, unable to hide his fondness as he watched Megumi settle back into your arms. Even when his son thought he was trash, Toji couldn’t help but adore him.

As the laughter subsided and your little Megumi relaxed in your arms, you couldn’t help but keep grinning at the ridiculous scene you’d just walked in on. It was like your husband found himself in outer space. And he was still debating whether aliens were real.

Fushiguro Toji sat back on his hands, still looking flabbergasted as his blue-green eyes darted between you and Megumi. HIs eyes narrowed for a moment and then a short breath releases from his lips. He shook his head, muttering under his breath.

“Unbelievable.” he grumbled, though there was a clear hint of amusement now in his tone. “First words. Gomi. What are the odds?”

You chuckled, bouncing Megumi lightly on your hip. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. He’s been trying to say goma all week, and you just happened to push his buttons at the wrong time.”

“Pushed his buttons?” Toji said, straightening up. “All I did was ask if he was pooping! That’s fair game when someone’s giving you that face!”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, glancing down at Megumi, who was still sporting a little frown but had mostly calmed down. “Maybe he’s tired of you questioning his dignity, baby.” you teased. “He’s got standards, you know.”

“Standards?” Toji repeated, narrowing his eyes at his son. “This coming from a kid who tried to eat his own foot this morning?”

“Gomi!” Megumi declared again, his little finger pointing accusingly at Toji, as if to double down on his stance.

You burst out laughing, nearly stumbling as you tried to hold Megumi steady. “Oh my god, Toji, baby. It's rough! you’ve been officially labeled. There’s no coming back from this now!”

Toji let out a long, exaggerated sigh, dragging a hand down his face before flopping dramatically onto his back. “This kid’s out to get me. This is just....ugh.” he mumbled, staring up at the ceiling. “First it’s gomi, next thing I know, he’ll be telling his teachers I’m a garbage dad.”

“You’ll survive, baby.” you said with a grin, moving to sit beside him on the mat. Megumi squirmed in your arms, reaching out toward Toji with his chubby little hands. “See? He doesn’t mean it. He loves you, trash talk and all.”

Toji sat up just enough to take Megumi from you, holding the baby in front of him at arm’s length as if inspecting him for further insults. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Megumi.” he said, narrowing his blue-green eyes towards his little boy.

Megumi stared back at him, his lips twitching as if he was trying to form another word. For a moment, both you and Toji held your breath, waiting to see what would come out next.

“Gooooo-ma.” Megumi finally said, his voice softer this time, and he clapped his little hands together as if proud of himself. "Go-ma!"

Toji blinked, his expression shifting from stunned to triumphant. “There it is! Goma! That’s what you meant, huh? Not gomi. Goma! Great job, ‘gumi!”

“Good job, my little treasure!” you cheered, clapping along with Megumi.

Toji puffed out his chest, grinning at you like he’d just won a major battle. “See? I told you the kid doesn’t think I’m trash.”

“Oh, don’t act like you weren’t sweating there for a second, baby.” you teased, nudging him playfully.

“Whatever.” he said, pulling Megumi closer and nuzzling his cheek, much to the baby’s delight. “This little guy knows his old man’s the best out there, hm? Don’t you, kid?”

Megumi giggled, reaching up to grab a handful of Toji’s hair. Your rather contently resigned husband snickered, taking a deep sigh and letting his son do as he wished.

You let out a small laugh, your heart warm. Life was great like this. And you were truly grateful, as much as you know Toji was, that this was your life day to day.

“Yeah, yeah, baby.” you said with a fond smile, watching them. “For now, at least. Just wait until he starts picking up on all your bad habits.”

Toji shot you a playful glare, but there was nothing but warmth in his eyes as he cradled Megumi against his chest. “Bad habits, huh? I’ll teach him the important stuff. Like how to dodge a jab and—”

“And maybe not how to taunt people until they call you garbage.” you cut in, smirking at your husband.

Toji groaned, but the sound was filled with affection. “Fine, fine. You win this one. But just wait. Next word he says is gonna be dad. Calling it now, babe. Third time’s the charm!”

“Whatever you say, gomi–kun.” you teased, unable to resist one last jab.

He shot you a look, but the soft laugh he let out was enough to tell you he didn’t mind. In fact, you could tell he was enjoying every bit of this—your teasing, Megumi’s growing personality, the quiet chaos of your little family.

And as you watched him hold Megumi, the baby now giggling uncontrollably as Fushiguro Toji playfully poked his chubby cheeks, you knew there was no place any of you both would rather be.

Especially your beloved husband. Even if Megumi decided to call him gomi again tomorrow. That all didn't matter. As long as you were together, happy and content.

══════════════════

epilogue

The next morning, after breakfast and while you were doing the laundry, the air was thick with anticipation. The kind of anticipation that only a determined father can have when his child is on the verge of accomplishing a great feat—like calling him "oto-san" or "dad".

Toji, sitting on the floor cross-legged like he was preparing for a life-altering event, had a ridiculous amount of hope in his eyes. Megumi was seated in front of him on the playmat, his big bright blue–green eyes wide and serious, as if he understood the gravity of the moment.

“Oto-san.” Toji said, his voice impossibly soft, practically dripping with encouragement. “Say it with me, Megumi. O-to-san. You can do it, little man.”

Megumi, who was sitting cross-legged just like his dad (it was adorable how he tried to copy every little thing Toji did), looked up at him, his tiny face scrunched up as he processed the words. He was staring at Toji like he was decoding some ancient language, his eyes darting from Toji's mouth to his eyes, clearly focused.

Toji waited, leaning in a little closer as though the two of them were sharing a secret. “Oto-san. Come on. Say it.” Toji repeated slowly for his little son. “O-to-san.”

Megumi blinked once, twice, and you could practically hear the little gears turning in his mind, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was exaggerated. “Gomi!”

You couldn't hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. The way your Toji looked completely deflated at the sound of the word—again—was too much. He had been trying so hard to do what he could since this morning and so far, Megumi hasn't been cooperating.

He slumped back onto his hands, shaking his head in mock exasperation, though you could see the smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite his best efforts to act annoyed.

"Not again, kid!" Toji groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “I’m not gomi! I’m Oto-san! You’re really gonna call me trash again, huh?”

Megumi, blissfully unaware of the comedic frustration he was causing, grinned up at Toji. His tiny face lit up like a lightbulb, pleased with the attention, clearly proud of himself for having mastered the art of taunting his father in a single syllable.

“I swear, kid…..” Toji muttered, but his voice was full of affection. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You leaned against the doorframe, watching the whole thing unfold, utterly charmed by the two of them. Toji, the intimidating figure who was capable of single-handedly taking down enemies twice his size, now reduced to a pile of goo over his son’s simple interactions.

And Fushiguro Megumi, with his wide, innocent eyes, staring at his dad like he was the most important person in the world.

“Let’s try again, okay?” Toji said, his tone shifting back to encouragement. “Come on, Megumi. O-to-san. You can do it.”

Megumi was still focused on Toji, his big eyes narrowed in thought, like he was really going to work for this one. And for a moment, Toji’s gaze softened, watching his son struggle so seriously with something as simple as a word. There was no trace of impatience on his face now, only patience and quiet joy at being in this moment with his son, who was so determined.

“O-to-san” Toji repeated slowly, the words rolling off his tongue like they were sacred, full of meaning. “O-to-san.”

Megumi blinked again and then, just as you thought the whole thing was going to repeat itself with another triumphant “Gomi” — your little treasure of a son did something that was rather unexpected, even for his own father.

He looked down at his little hands for a moment, and then, in a burst of focus, he looked back up at Toji. This time, his little mouth formed the word slowly, with effort. “O...to...san.”

Toji froze. His entire body stilled, as if the universe itself had shifted. He blinked, then blinked again, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Did... did you just say—” His voice was breathless, almost as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Did you just say... Oto-san?”

Megumi’s face lit up with an innocent pride, a mischievous little grin spreading across his face as though he knew he’d just done something monumental. He reached up, patting Toji’s cheek, as if confirming what had just happened.

Toji, his heart swelling with emotions you didn’t even know he was capable of, immediately scooped Megumi into his arms. The baby squealed, giggling in surprise as he was lifted up, and Toji held him close, pressing his cheek against his son’s own chubby ones.

“You did it, kid. You really said it. O-to-san.” He repeated it like he was relishing every syllable. “Dad. Oto–san.” he whispered, almost in awe. “You said it.”

You couldn’t contain the warm laugh that bubbled up from your chest, a soft, happy sound that filled the room as you walked over to them. You bent down, brushing a hand through Megumi’s soft hair as he clung to his dad, who was still holding him in a vice grip, clearly elated.

“Oh my god, Toji, baby.” you said, grinning from ear to ear. “You did it. You’re officially Oto-san.”

Toji looked up at you, a grin breaking across his face, his eyes shining with joy. “You hear that? Oto-san! He said it!” His voice was practically vibrating with excitement.

You leaned in to kiss Megumi’s cheek, and he responded by beaming up at you, his tiny arms reaching toward both of you as if he was basking in the love that was flooding the room. "He’s got his first word," you said softly, holding him gently. “Oto-san.”

Toji’s expression softened, his hands tightening around his son as if he were trying to hold onto this moment forever. “Man, I never thought I’d get to hear that. First ‘gomi’ and then ‘Oto-san’... I’m already getting my father of the year award.”

“Definitely, baby.” you teased, sitting down beside them. “First he calls you trash, now he’s calling you dad. You’re on a roll!”

Toji grinned widely, holding Megumi up like he’d just won a trophy. “Yeah, well, I’m Oto-san now. All the ‘gomi’ in the world can’t take that away from me.”

Megumi, as if he understood the gravity of the moment, raised his hands in a victorious gesture, causing both of you to laugh. Toji’s joy was practically radiating off of him, and you could tell that, for him, this moment, this small, perfect moment—was everything to your husband.

As you all sat together, with Megumi snuggled between you and Toji, you couldn’t help but smile at the scene. Toji might have started this whole "Oto-san" lesson with a bit of desperation, but now, he was on top of the world.

The way Megumi had slowly figured out the word, and the way Toji had been so patient—there was a deep love in the room. It wasn’t just about the word itself; it was about the bond they were building.

“I think he’s got it, baby.” you said, watching as Toji continued to whisper the word to Megumi. “Oto-san... your first real word. He’ll be saying it a lot from now on.”

Toji, still holding Megumi close, sighed happily, a sense of peace settling over him. “Yeah.” he said, his voice full of warmth and affection. “Oto-san. I’m good with that.”

And in that moment, with the three of you together in the warmth of your home, everything felt right.

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band--psycho · 7 months ago

Text

Sylus x Reader - A Little Birdie Told Me

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

Thank you all for the continued support! I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over.

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

Thank you the anon who sent in this request, it was such fun to write this!

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Warnings: Jealous Sylus, hints of mature themes towards the end

Sylus was fully expecting to get back home to feathers, metal and blood everywhere; what else was he meant to expect when leaving you and Mephisto together for a prolonged period of time.

You two didn’t get along.

Sylus knew this.

But you owed him, since he looked after the dove you found, just before going away on a work trip.

Much to his own surprise though, you didn’t argue with him when he asked you to check in on Mephisto; which naturally only made him more suspicious.

You were planning something.

He didn’t know what, but the mischievous glint that was showing in your eyes as he left, confirmed his suspicions.

That’s why he was expecting at least part of his mansion to be somewhat trashed.

But it wasn’t.

There were no stray feathers.

No shards of metal.

No specks of blood from where Mephisto could have pecked you.

There was nothing; everything was exactly how he left it.

And instead of his home being filled with the sound of yours and Mephistos petty squabbles, something that he’d gotten quite used to recently, his home was silent.

‘Maybe Luke and Kieran were right,’ he thought to himself, hanging his leather jacket on the coat hook by his front door, thinking back to what the twins had told him a few days ago as he made his way down the hall.

According to the twins, you and Mephisto were getting along fine; more than fine in fact, according to them you two were almost inseparable, like you were friends.

But that was a ridiculous thought, you two didn’t get along, you’d both told him that, which is what made the picture he got sent even more puzzling.

The picture was of you, reading, as you so often do, but this time Mephisto was perched on the arm of the chair next to and your free hand was on his head, petting him.

Was that part of the reason he came back a few days earlier than he’d intended to from his trip?

Yes.

He needed answers.

Though it was also because that picture made him realise just how much he hated being away from you and how much he hated that he wasn’t the one being given your attention.

Granted you could be a pain in the ass at times, sassing him at any given opportunity as well as always pushing him to do the ‘right’ thing…but he’d grown to love those qualities about you.

You changed him.

He knew you’d had an affect on him long ago, however it wasn’t until recently whilst he was away from you that he realised two things, 1) How much of an affect you’d truly had on him and 2) How much he’d missed everything about you; your witty and sarcastic remarks, the way your infectious smile could light up a room, the way you hummed along to whatever song was playing through your headphones as you danced in his kitchen, completely oblivious to his presence.

Everything.

And now that he was home, he just wanted to see you.

Needed to see you.

That was the whole reason why he asked you to look after Mephisto in the first place, not that he’d ever tell you that.

He walked into the living room, a soft smile quickly forming on his lips as he saw you fast asleep on the sofa, your body wrapped in the blanket you’d claimed as yours after a few visits, your music blaring into your ears at the loudest possible volume.

Though Sylus’ smile faltered as he took a few more steps closer to you, allowing him to see his mechanical bird nestled in the crook of your neck, little satisfied coos left his beak as the two of you continued to sleep peacefully.

Of all the scenarios he thought he’d be walking into, this was the most unexpected; a complete juxtaposition to what he’d assumed he’d be walking into.

He should’ve felt relief in the fact that neither of you had killed the other, but relief was not the emotion he was feeling.

Jealousy however was.

The same feeling that he’d tried to push to the side when he saw the picture from the twins

That’s how maddening his feelings were for you, only you could ever make him jealous of Mephisto.

What had happened whilst he was away?

Had he somehow ended up in an alternate reality where you and Mephisto were friends?

He shook his head at the absurd thoughts racing around in his head; but what he was seeing was exactly that, absurd.

He wanted to wake you so he could get some answers, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so, mainly because of how peaceful you looked.

Mephisto though was different.

Sylus had no issue in waking him up and thanks to the music you were listening to, you wouldn’t be disturbed by his annoyed caws once he was awoken.

~~~~~~

Safe to say, Mephisto was very unhappy at being woken up.

And his grouchiness was naturally directed towards the person who’d disturbed him.

“All I’m asking is, what suddenly made you two so close?” Sylus asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to ignore the jealousy remarks the crow was making.

One thing was immediately clear to Sylus, Mephisto had certainly adopted your sassy retorts to questions.

“I’m not,” Sylus denied; only to be mocked by the bird in front of him.

He was becoming as infuriating as you were.

“Are you two arguing?” You asked, your words catching Sylus off guard; he’d been so busy interrogating Mephisto that he’d been completely oblivious to you waking up or finding them in the study that they were currently standing in.

“No,” Sylus answered simply, turning around to look at you.

You were leaning against the doorframe of his study, your eyes meeting his and holding his gaze; it was like you were trying to read his thoughts.

Thankfully, mind reading was not a skill you possessed.

Much to Sylus’ dismay though, he didn’t need to answer you, because Mephisto answered for him.

“Mephisto says you’re lying,” you stated, biting back the triumphant smile that wanted nothing more than to spread across your lips.

Sylus didn’t know what was more shocking, the fact that she understood the Crow now behind him, or the fact that said crow had betrayed him in such a way.

“I’m aware of what he said, sweetie,” Sylus pointed out, his voice laced with frustration as he quickly shot a glare at Mephisto.

He knew you were going to ask why he was lying and just like that, those very words fell from your lips.

Once again, Mephisto answered before Sylus could even open his mouth to speak; before flying very, very quickly out of the study, leaving you and Sylus alone together.

“You were jealous?” You asked, taking a few steps closer to Sylus.

Sylus didn’t want to admit it, but you were annoyingly persistent when you wanted answers.

So unless he wanted to be continuously asked about Mephistos comment (Which he didn’t) he had no other choice to answer your question honestly.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice low as you continued walking towards him, only stopping once you were directly infront of him.

“Why?” You pushed.

He hated to admit that he was jealous; let alone saying the reason why…revealing how much he really craved your attention.

“Because I-” his words trailed off as he began to notice a playful smirk tugging at your lips, the realisation dawning on him in that very moment.

You already knew why.

This had all been some elaborate plan to get him to admit his feelings for you.

“Who told you?” Sylus questioned, watching as your smirk grew.

“Who told me what?” You teased coyly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a terrible liar, sweetie,” he whispered, leaning down slightly so that his lips were brushing over the shell of your ear.

His words alone were enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Who’s idea was this, yours or Mephistos?” He asked, placing a feather light kiss just under your ear.

“Both,” you breathed out; reveling in the closeness between the two of you.

“Thought you two didn’t get along?” He asked quietly.

Granted, you and Mephisto had your differences, and you didn’t always get along, but recently you’d grown quite accustomed to one another.

Of course you squabbled, but the same way someone would with a sibling.

You knew Sylus was going to ask you to look after Mephisto, because the crow had told you so in secret.

That’s when the two of you came up with this plan.

A plan to make Sylus jealous.

You were never one hundred percent sure of his feelings towards you, you flirted often enough, but some people just had that type of connection, it didn’t mean he felt the same way about you, that you did him.

“Things changed,” you answered back, your voice just as quiet as his.

“Is it true?” You asked, changing the topic of conversation as you turned your head slightly, so now your lips were inches apart.

“Is what true?”

“What Mephisto told me about how you feel about me?”

Being this close to him was torture for the both of you; both of you waiting for the other to make the final move and close the little distance that was between you both.

He saw the anxiety creeping in your y/e/c orbs as you waited for him to answer your question.

But he knew that he could do something better than telling you how he felt, he could show you.

And with that thought in mind, he closed the distance between your lips.

It took you a few seconds to actually process what was happening; but once you did you wasted no time in allowing your eyes to flutter shut and melt into the kiss.

The kiss started off gentle, soft, the two of you clearly processing what was happening; but everything changed when you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, deepening the kiss.

His hands found a home on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss intensified.

“Does that answer your question, kitten?” He murmured, pulling away from you slightly.

“I don’t know, I think I could use some clarification,” you breathlessly chuckled before his lips met yours again, obliging to give you all the clarification you needed.

Taglist:

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#sylus x reader #sylus imagines #sylus imagine #sylus love and deepspace #lads sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus x you #lnds sylus #love and deepspace imagines #love and deepspace imagine #l&ds imagines

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vunblr · 28 days ago

Text

Tangled (#4)

Pairing: Cecaelia! Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Slight Angst. Fluff. Slow Burn. I don't know if there will be eventual teratophilia.

Summary: Between fear and fascination, a solitary creature struggles to protect his hidden world -and himself- after an unexpected encounter with a curious human woman makes him question everything he thought he knew about trust, danger, and boundaries.

Word Count: 6.5k.

Previous Chapter

He watched her as she leaned back, all smiles and soft laughter like she had any idea what she’d just done.

She didn’t know.

She couldn’t possibly know.

First, her scent. He hadn’t expected it to stick to him like that, to curl in his mind and get under his skin. He thought it would be like everything else human, unfamiliar and forgettable. But no. Hers was something he couldn’t quite name but wanted to drown in if he let himself.

Second, her offer. She offered herself to him, bearing her throat in a way that was both foolish and... intimate in a way she clearly didn’t understand. It wasn’t something you did unless you chose. And she had just done it without thinking like it was nothing.

Third, the effect. He clenched his jaw, still with his gaze locked on her, but not really seeing her. He was too busy feeling the way his body had responded to her and the way her scent tangled inside him like a hook he couldn’t pull out. His muscles were still too tight, his pulse pounded behind his ears, and deep in his gut, something hot and restless stirred. Something he hadn’t felt in longer than he could remember.

And last… he let her. He let her come close, let her press her face to his neck, and breathe him in. Let her do something she shouldn’t have done. Something that, if she knew anything about his kind, she would realize was an unspoken claim, a dangerous dance they had just stepped into.

Now, she was sitting there, smiling like they had shared some simple, innocent exchange. Like she hadn’t just shifted the ground beneath him. His gaze drifted to her hands, still moving the yarn, oblivious to the storm she’d stirred. He exhaled through his nose, slow and sharp, trying to force down the heat crawling under his skin.

"Enough," he muttered, though whether it was for her or himself, he didn’t know.

She looked up, blinking at him, a little surprised but not scared. "Oh... okay. Sorry, I didn’t mean to-"

He shook his head, glancing away toward the sea, needing to not look at her for a moment. "No sorry," he said, but his voice was rougher than he intended.

"Alright," she said quietly, returning to her crochet. "Just... tell me if I overstep, okay?"

His throat worked as he swallowed hard.

You already did, he thought bitterly. And I let you.

He shifted in place, twitching his tendrils around her, unsure whether to keep her close or flee.

Because for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure which one he wanted more.

----

She sat on her usual rock, but the yarn in her hands moved slower than usual, as she flicked her gaze toward the waves more often than her stitches.

He wasn’t there.

Not that she expected him to show up every day, but after everything that had happened -the exchange of names, the strange but oddly gentle "scent exchange," and the way he'd gotten so close- she thought maybe she’d see him again.

She let out a slow breath, fumbling on the next stitch.

What did you think, that you could befriend him? she scolded herself, narrowing her eyes as she yanked the yarn a little tighter than necessary. You’re lucky he didn’t drag you under the water. Maybe being near him makes you stupid.

Still, a small part of her countered: But he didn’t hurt you. He could have, but he didn’t. Her eyes wandered back to the sea, scanning the rolling waves out of habit. But there was nothing, no shadow, no flicker of movement between the rocks.

Gone.

Maybe it was better this way. Safer.

----

Far from the shore, beneath the churning sea, Bucky lingered in the colder, deeper waters, resting against a rock shelf that jutted from the ocean floor. The currents brushed along his skin and the slow sway of his tentacles, but he felt no comfort in them.

He had put distance between them, just like he told himself he should.

Because what had he been doing? Letting a human get so close. Acting like he could- like he wanted more.

His jaw clenched.

It wasn’t her, he told himself. It was about him. His isolation. His weakness. Years spent avoiding everyone and everything had fucked up his mind until even a scrap of befriending had felt like a hook through the ribs. And she had been kind.

She didn’t even know what she was doing, how close she had come to crossing other lines she didn’t understand. He had let her. He had wanted to let her. Bucky clenched a fist in his lap, rubbing over his face with the other as if he could scrub the thoughts away.

Stupid.

He should have never let it get that far. Never let her sit so close. Never let her touch him, scent him, look at him the way she did.

Still…

The image of her tilting her head, baring her neck to him, flickered behind his eyes like a brand. The soft curve of her throat. The warmth of her breath. The way she smiled at him like he was someone, not something.

His fingers dug into his palm. He didn’t trust himself around her. So for two days, he kept to deeper waters, pretending distance was what he wanted.

The third day, when the sun began to bleed its colors over the horizon and the cliffs stood sharp and silent against the sea, she still sat on her rock, waiting.

But Bucky wasn’t there.

Because he was far, far from that shore, swimming with relentless purpose along darkening waters, leaving the familiar cliffs behind as he cut through the waves like a shadow. His chest ached, more from what he felt than the strain of swimming so far.

It was stupid. He knew it was stupid. But still, he told himself, if anyone could make sense of this mess in his head... it would be him.

Steve.

The name echoed like an old wound, sharp and raw.

Steve, who had chosen -her- the humans over everything they were. Steve, who had left him to rot in the depths alone, abandoned with nothing but his anger and bitterness for company.

And yet, here he was. Seeking him out like a fool.

Just one talk, he told himself. Maybe that will set me straight again.

Because he shouldn't be thinking about her. Shouldn't be lingering near the shore like some lost thing, waiting to hear her voice, see her smile.

The first town passed under his gaze, and the lights of human dwellings glowed warm and bright through the dusk. He stayed out of reach, only his eyes above water, scanning, searching. Nothing. This wasn’t the one.

The second town, was the same.

By the time he reached the third, the sky had turned to deep velvet blue, with stars scattered across its surface. He lingered near the rocky inlet where the cliffs dropped steeply into the sea, where he knew Steve had once made his home. Or maybe still did, he hoped.

The place was quiet.

Still, Bucky waited until the moon was high, waves lapping against the shore with a soft hush. He called out, a low, resonant sound that vibrated in his chest and was meant to carry far beyond human ears. A call meant for one of his own. But the night swallowed it whole.

He waited, floating just beyond the rocks, with his eyes fixed on the empty shore, on the little lights far away in town.

Called again.

Nothing.

He stayed there for hours, watching, waiting. Each time he raised his voice, it felt smaller. Lonelier.

You really left me, didn’t you?

The thought burned sharper than he wanted to admit.

How long had it been since Steve left? Sixty Winters? More? He couldn’t remember anymore. Time slipped strange and fast when you were half in the world and half out of it. Maybe Steve had aged since he had taken a human life, and left behind all that they were. Maybe he was long gone.

He stayed until dawn streaked pale silver over the horizon, but no voice ever came back.

----

Instead, something else heard him. Ears in the deep, sharp, ancient, and angry. They heard his call and knew the voice that carried it.

Him.

The one who should have been gone.

The one who deserved to be gone.

As Bucky swam away, cutting a lonely path back toward familiar waters, he didn’t realize he was being followed. Shadows moved beneath him, sleek and fast, like knives slicing through the dark water. They had heard him.

He is alive, they whispered among themselves. Alive when others-

The thought didn’t need to be finished. They would fix that mistake.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t sense them at first. His mind was swirling with heavy memories, old wounds torn open by the empty place where Steve should have been.

Sixty Winters, maybe more. He’d lost count. Long enough to almost forget what it had felt like to trust.

To forget the time he had believed in a human once, believed enough to let them get close. Close enough to chain him up and cage him. He could still remember the sharp sting of iron on his wrists, the cold bite of hooks that pierced his flesh and held him up for human eyes to gawk at. The glass walls had kept him trapped while they poked, prodded, and tested.

But worse than the chains had been the magic. The dark, twisting spell that had turned him into a puppet, their creature to command.

He had been forced to do unspeakable things in their stupid wars sinking ships and artifacts in the depths. Things that had stained the waters with blood, but not only theirs, his own kind's too. He had been their monster, their nightmare pet unleashed in the depths.

Until Steve.

Steve had found him, broken and maddened, and dragged him back from that abyss. He had fought for him, and saved him when no one else would.

But their people?

They hadn’t seen a survivor, they had seen a traitor. A weapon turned against them. They hadn’t cared that he had been forced, that the magic had ripped his will away. They had only seen the carnage he left behind.

And they had wanted him dead for it.

Now his call had gone out into the sea… and it had been heard not precisely by Steve.

----

After a week of not seeing him, she told herself it was none of her business. But that didn’t stop her from thinking about him. Every time she sat on her rock since day one, working her yarn, her eyes would flick to the waves, searching for a glimpse of a blue tentacle or a pale, sharp gaze watching her from the shallows.

She wasn’t sure if she should feel relieved or disappointed. By day five, she realized she was more of the second. By day seven, she couldn’t stand it anymore.

"Stupid," she muttered to herself as she shoved a container of strawberries into her bag, along with a flashlight -just in case- and tugged a jacket around her shoulders. "Absolutely stupid."

Still, her feet found the path toward the cliffs, leading her to the cave she swore she wouldn’t step into again.

But here she was.

The morning tide was still low, giving her enough room to slip inside. The sky outside was overcast, with heavy clouds dimming the sun, making the inside of the cave darker than before. She clicked on her flashlight as she moved deeper, and her steps echoed faintly against the stone walls. The place looked empty.

But she had learned her lesson, that didn’t mean it was.

Her fingers strengthened her grip around the flashlight as she stepped forward, and her eyes scanned every shadow. That’s when she saw it. Dark crimson smeared along the rock near the entrance.

Her heart gave a sharp thump.

"Okay," she whispered to herself, swallowing. "Maybe he had breakfast... fish? shark? Whatever he eats?" But as she moved deeper, more stains appeared.

Thicker. Darker.

Smeared across the walls, pooling faintly in crevices along the stone floor. And the farther in she went, the worse it got. Her fingers tightened again on the flashlight, and she swallowed hard. As she followed the trail farther into the cave, the nerves twisted her guts.

If this was his blood, he was probably badly hurt.

But if it wasn’t...

Her chest felt tighter at the thought.

If it wasn’t his, then someone else had been here. Someone who hadn’t walked out. And if he had done this…

Her heart thudded painfully at the realization. Had she been lucky? Had she just caught him on good days? The idea of those sharp teeth flashing in a smile -or a snarl- and those powerful tentacles coiled around her, not playfully but to crush...

"Shit..." she exhaled, taking a step back, darting the flashlight to every corner as if expecting to see a body.

She rubbed her arms, suddenly cold. Still, she didn’t leave.

Because if he was hurt, if something had happened to him, she wanted to know. She needed to know, even if every instinct told her to turn around and never look back… as she should, if she had at least a pair of functioning brain cells.

She took another cautious step forward, sweeping the beam of her flashlight over the cave floor, when something sharp caught the light, glinting cold and wet. Slowly, she crouched, careful not to slip on the damp stone. The object lay half-hidden in a dark pool that was too thick to be water.

Reaching out, she used two fingers to nudge it closer into the light.

A broken blade. It was jagged at the end like it had snapped in a struggle. Strange metal, unlike anything she’d seen, and stained deep crimson.

Her stomach twisted painfully.

He didn’t carry weapons. She had never seen him with anything but his strong body and sharp teeth, and those had always been enough.

Which meant...

"Someone was here..." she whispered to herself, "Someone hurt him."

She rose slowly, closing her fingers around the broken blade before she could think better of it. It was heavier than she expected, and the dark blood was sticky and half-dried. Her gaze darted around the hollow space, half-expecting something -or someone- to leap from the shadows.

She shouldn’t be here. She knew that.

But the image of that fierce, watchful creature who had let her sit so close, who had taken strawberries from her hand and showed her how to greet in his custom, bleeding and alone somewhere, pushed her fear to the side.

She hesitated, then took a breath and called out, softly at first:

"...Bucky?" The sound of her voice bounced back to her, echoing around the cave.

She swallowed and tried again, louder this time, and her voice cracked slightly as it carried into the darkness. "Bucky?!"

Silence.

Her pulse quickened, but she pressed on, stepping over a slick smear of blood that made her stomach lurch.

"Hey! If you're here… say something! Please!" she called again.

The flashlight trembled slightly in her hand as she strained to hear anything beyond her own breathing.

----

The water around him was dark and heavy with blood and silt. His own blood. It clouded his senses, making his thoughts sluggish as they drifted like the slow sway of the current in the pool.

He had been there for... days? Maybe more. Time had slipped away from him in the haze of pain. Every breath burned. His body throbbed in a dull rhythm, like the ocean’s pull against the rocks.

But he was still alive.

Barely.

It had cost him, the fight. No weapons, only claws, teeth, and rage. Enough to take them down in the end, but with a price. His side was torn open, his arm half-numb from a deep gash, and one of his tendrils had been severed at the tip, curling uselessly beneath him.

He had dragged himself back to the safety of his cave, to the pools where the saltwater could at least try to mend what was left of him. But it wasn’t enough. Not fast enough.

He was drifting again, his mind slipping, when something shifted above him.

A light. Faint, but sharp enough to stab through the gloom. Moving, searching. He tensed in instinctive warning, but the motion sent a bolt of pain shooting through his battered body. His jaw clenched, holding in a groan. He wasn’t ready. Not for more. His skin prickled when he felt the faint thud of steps against the stone floor, distant but clear. Someone was there.

Had humans ventured again? It wouldn’t be the first time someone wandered too far, looking for something they shouldn’t. He tried to shift, to sink deeper, but his muscles spasmed in protest, too weak to obey.

Then her voice reached him. Muffled. Distant.

"Bucky...?"

He froze.

Not a stranger.

Her.

His mind swam, and confusion cut through the haze of pain. Why was she here?

She called again, closer this time. "Bucky?!"

He wanted to answer. He parted his lips and tried to force out something -anything- but underwater, all that escaped was a rough, broken sound that no human ear would catch.

His pulse thudded weakly.

As her steps echoed nearer, he forced his sluggish mind to think. She would walk right past him, and wouldn’t even see him in the murk. And part of him wanted that, wanted her gone before she saw what was left of him.

But another part, a part that had grown restless since meeting her, didn’t want her to leave. Gritting his teeth, he forced his tentacles to move, though every motion sent sharp jabs of pain radiating from torn flesh. Still, he pushed and stirred the water just enough to ripple across the pool’s surface.

Notice me, he thought. See that I'm here.

As her light wavered over the dark water, the surface trembled faintly, disturbed by the slow drag of a blood-slick tendril just beneath. He pressed a hand to his side again, as his vision narrowed from the effort.

Just as she was about to turn left, something flickered at the edge of her vision, a ripple across the pool’s surface. She froze and slowly, turned the flashlight until it landed on the water.

There.

A tendril.

Blue-black, slick and glistening, moving sluggishly, not with strength, but like it took effort to even float. It splashed weakly, sending tiny waves against a waterline that seemed darker than it should be.

Blood.

Her eyes darted to the stones surrounding the pool, and there, smeared across them in long streaks, was the same dark stain.

He’s here.

"God..." she whispered, with a trembling voice.

The flashlight’s beam trembled with her grip as she moved closer, careful not to slip on the damp rocks. She knelt by the pool's edge, and her jeans soaked through at the knees, but she barely noticed.

"Hey..." she breathed softly as if speaking too loud would make things worse. "I see you now..."

She tried to aim the light deeper into the pool, but the water was too murky -too dark- to see anything below. Only that single limp tendril breaking the surface, swaying with the slight motion of the water. Her heart ached at the sight.

Slowly, cautiously, she reached out a hand toward the appendage. "I'm here," she murmured, though she doubted he could hear her "You're not alone, okay? I'm right here." Her fingers hesitated a second above the cool, wet skin, then brushed against it in a light, careful touch. Just enough to let him know she was there.

----

The tendril, sensing her touch, went nearly limp now that the effort of moving was no longer needed. But before it fully stilled, it shifted -ever so slightly- curling weakly around her hand and wrist in a slow, instinctive motion.

Her breath hitched at the gesture, something in it was far too vulnerable, too human in its need for contact. She squeezed back gently, giving a reassuring hold, stroking her thumb along the smooth, cool skin in slow circles. "It's okay..." she whispered, again, not sure if the words reached him but needing to say them anyway. "I'm here."

They stayed like that for a long moment. Just her, kneeling at the edge of the pool, holding on to him as if her touch could imbue some life into him. But as the time stretched, her mind kept racing. What now? What could she do?

She had nothing, no medicine, no first aid kit that could help him. And as much as she wanted to jump in, to check on him properly, the water looked freezing, and she hadn’t brought anything to change into after diving. She wasn’t in any condition to risk getting soaked and sick. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she swallowed hard while looking at the dark water, feeling small and useless for the first time in a long while.

She stayed by the poolside longer than she meant to, with her hand still cradled by the weak tendril wrapped around her wrist. Her mind spun in circles, searching for a plan, for anything she could do.

Her eyes flicked toward the entrance of the cave. The tide wouldn't rise for a while yet, so she still had time to make it back home and return before the path was swallowed by water.

"Okay," she whispered to herself as her mind solidified the plan. "Okay, I need to go get some things. First aid stuff... maybe food? Towels..." She bit her lip, thinking. But when she shifted to pull her hand away, his grip around her wrist suddenly tightened, surprisingly strong for how weak he looked.

Her heart ached at the desperation in that small gesture.

"Hey, hey..." she murmured softly, reaching with her free hand to gently stroke over the tendril, moving her thumb in slow, calming motions. "I'm not leaving for good, I promise." She kept her voice low, soothing, "I’ll be back, alright? Just need to get you some help." Still, he clung to her for a long moment longer, as if weighing whether he could trust her to come back. "I promise," she said again, firmer this time. "I’ll be back. Just hold on a little longer."

Finally, the tendril loosened -reluctantly- slipping slowly from her wrist and resting against the rock once more.

She exhaled shakily, giving it one last gentle touch before getting to her feet.

----

As she made her way toward the entrance of the cave, she paused just long enough to glance back over her shoulder. The beam of her flashlight caught the faint glisten of his tendril as it slipped, slow and tired, back into the water.

Once her footsteps faded, the silence filled the space again. Left alone, Bucky let himself drift, too exhausted to hold himself upright in the water. The faint warmth of her hand still lingered like a ghost against his battered limb.

He let the darkness close in for a while, letting himself float just beneath the surface, with his mind foggy with pain and old memories that clawed their way through that limbo.

But then, ripples.

A soft disruption stirred the water above him, gentle but enough to break through his haze. His senses sharpened in a sluggish pulse and he turned his head weakly, blinking against the dim light filtering from above, trying to catch a glimpse, unsure if what he sensed was real or a trick of his mind.

----

Her footsteps echoed in the cave walls as she walked toward the pool, with her arms laden with a bag full of supplies, whatever she had been able to grab in a hurry. First aid kit, some frozen fish, also towels and clothes for herself… it had been all she could think of. Her heart was pounding harder than when she first left.

Her eyes flicked to the water as she set the bag down. There was no sign of movement. Just the glassy, dark surface, betraying nothing. She sighed, rolling her shoulders as if giving herself courage, and then began to peel off her jacket and shoes, already regretting the decision but knowing she had no other choice. The water would be freezing.

Fishing out a pair of old, ridiculous swimming goggles she found in a drawer, -probably left behind by whoever lived in the house before- she slipped them on, feeling a little absurd but too anxious to care. Taking a deep breath, she slipped into the water, and a sharp gasp escaped her lips as the cold cut through her skin like a knife.

She paused, cursing, wrapping her arms around herself for a moment, and trembling as she forced herself to adjust to the temperature. The flashlight shook slightly in her grip, casting shivering beams of light into the gloomy space. The beam cut through the dark, but the water was too thick with the disturbed silt, swirling lazily in the ray of light. She couldn’t see a thing.

But he could.

From the depths, Bucky watched. Or rather, what was left of him did. He was barely clinging to consciousness, but the light was impossible to miss. It cut through the dark like a lifeline. And her shape above, haloed and wavering, made his chest ache.

She had really come back.

Slowly, almost without willing it, his body drifted upward, following the light like some deep-sea creature drawn to the surface. His battered limbs didn’t want to cooperate, but the instinct of survival was stronger.

She didn’t see him until he was closer, just flickers of something big moving just beyond the reach of her flashlight. The vague outline of his body, the dark shimmer of his tentacles, almost blended with the black of the pool. She didn’t hesitate. She lunged forward, grabbing under one of his arms and tried to pull him upward.

"God, you're heavy..." she inwardly thought, straining to lift him enough to bring him closer to the surface. Her muscles burned almost instantly with the effort, and her grip slipped slightly on his wet skin.

Her chest ached.

She broke the surface with a loud gasp, and the cold air burned her lungs as she coughed, trying to get her breath back. Damn it. The asthma was not helping. She braced herself on the rocky edge, breathing fast, with the flashlight still clutched tightly in one hand.

When she glanced sideways, she saw his body float up beside her, half-limp. “You helped yourself up, huh?" she murmured, with a shaky voice.

She pressed her palm gently to his shoulder, reassuring him as he drifted closer. His eyes were closed, and she couldn’t tell how aware of her presence or his surroundings he really was. But now that he was at the surface, she could try to do something.

"Okay, okay," she whispered, swallowing hard as she glanced at the rocky edges of the pool. "We’re getting you out. One way or another."

But looking at him -at his size, at the way his body looked so heavy even floating- she doubted she could do it alone. “Think you can help me out here?" she asked softly, knowing there might be no answer.

She tried to haul him up with all the strength she had left, but his body was just too heavy and uncooperative. Her fingers ached from the effort, and her muscles shook as she tried to get enough leverage, but it was like trying to drag a waterlogged tree. "Come on, help me out here," she muttered through gritted teeth, as her breath came out in sharp puffs that misted in the chilly air.

Finally, gasping and shivering, she let him slip back into the water for a moment as she crawled her way out of the pool, trembling from the cold and effort. The water streamed from her clothes, and her hair was plastered to her face as she wiped it back roughly, trying to think.

"Alright," she panted, sinking to her knees on the rocky edge, and leaning over him again. "Different approach." She grabbed one of his forearms and just pulled. The moment she tugged, a low, pained groan escaped from his throat. A sound full of agony and weakness that she hadn’t heard before.

"Shit," she whispered, swallowing hard. His arm, now that she was close, was lined with defensive cuts, raw and ugly, some shallow, others dangerously deep. "Sorry, big guy..." she breathed out, almost guilty, smoothing down his forearm briefly in an apologetic gesture before she gripped tighter. "I can't do more than this. You gotta help me, just a little. Please."

Then, a sharp intake of breath -pained and hissing- and his body stirred. She felt it, the muscles working under her hand, trembling as he gathered what little strength he had left. "That’s it," she encouraged, watching as he moved sluggishly, planting his free hand against the rock, trying to help her pull.

It was a slow, agonizing process. Every inch he moved closer to the edge was won through stubbornness on both of their parts. She leaned back, pulling as he tried to push, using whatever strength his battered body still had. When they finally got half of him out of the water, she let out a shaky laugh that died in her throat the moment she got a proper look at him.

"Oh... god," she breathed, and her eyes went wide as she took in the extent of the damage on his body. His pale skin was marred by deep, bleeding gashes. Jagged slices that could only have been made by blades, just like the broken piece she’d found earlier. But worse, so much worse, was the wound at his side, ragged, torn, and still leaking sluggish streams of dark blood that smeared over the rocks beneath him. It looked bad. Bad enough that her stomach twisted violently and her throat felt tight.

Her eyes flicked to her bag, to the first aid kit that suddenly seemed like a child’s plaything. "Shit... shit," she whispered again, pressing her hand briefly to her forehead as if that could help her think faster. She stared down at him, at the blood pooling around his torn body, mixing with the shallow water beneath them. It was worse than anything she could’ve imagined.

Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs, as panic crawled up her brain until something surfaced in her mind. The stories. The old tales whispered by the locals -the ones she always dismissed as nonsense. Sirens, creatures similar to him, who lured sailors to their deaths, yes, but not only as entertainment but also to feed on them. Devoured them to survive.

She swallowed. Her eyes darted down to him again. He was starting to drift, his eyes fluttering shut, shallow breaths, and too weak to even hold himself up.

"No no no, hey, hey! Stay with me!" she stammered, moving closer. Without thinking, she raised a hand and slapped his cheek, not enough to hurt, but just enough to keep him there, to force his attention back on her. "Look at me!"

His eyes cracked open, glassy and unfocused.

"I think..." she hesitated, swallowing down her fear. "I think I know something that could help. But you need to listen."

He blinked slowly, breathing harshly, and gave the slightest tilt of his head.

"You-" she licked her lips, and her heart raced so fast it felt like it would burst. "Your kind eat humans, yes? And if injured, that's a way to heal?"

At that, something flickered in his eyes. A dark glint -wary, conflicted- but beneath it, a flicker of recognition. Like a secret, she'd guessed too close to the truth.

She took a deep, trembling breath. "What if it was just... blood? Not- not all of me, not-" She faltered, and the words caught in her throat, but she forced herself to keep going. "Would that help you? Just enough to keep you alive?"

At her words, something dark flared again in his eyes. Not anger, more like a deep, ancient instinct stirring, something he was fighting hard to keep buried. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t deny it. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, barely above a whisper. "Enough... to mend," he rasped.

She exhaled slowly, some tension leaving her shoulders, just enough to move again. "Okay," she nodded, "okay. Then that's what we're gonna do."

But as she rolled up her drenched sleeve, exposing her forearm to him, she caught the way his gaze fixed on her skin, how his pupils widened, black almost swallowing blue. His body tensed, and his fingers twitched against the rock as if holding himself back.

The look on his face made her pause. He looked hungry. And more than that, conflicted. Like part of him wanted to pull away and hide, but the other part, the wounded, desperate part, was fighting to stay in control. "Hey..." she whispered, softer now, reaching out with her free hand to gently touch his cheek, drawing his gaze up to meet hers. "I trust you."

His brows knit together, and the muscles in his jaw worked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

"I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it," she added, brushing her thumb gently against his skin, as a reassurance.

His eyes closed tight like her words cut deeper than any blade. When he opened them again, the hunger was still there, -sharp and primal- but there was something softer, too. A flicker of control. Of gratitude. "I... will not take all," he said hoarsely,

Slowly, carefully, she offered her arm closer to him. "Come on, big guy. Let's get you through this."

His hand, cold and rough, trembled as he wrapped his fingers around her wrist, guiding her closer. His eyes never left hers, searching for any hint of fear that might make him stop.

But she held it, giving a small nod. "I got you."

His lips pressed to her skin, and for a long, excruciating second, he just hovered there, with his breath shaking against her wrist. The instinct to bite down, to take, was overwhelming. It screamed through his body like a tidal wave, loud and deafening. His jaw ached from holding himself back, and his teeth clenched so tight they could've cracked. His kind was not gentle. When offered prey, they took, tearing flesh and bone until there was nothing left but silence.

But she wasn’t prey.

She offered part of herself, freely, trustingly.

Finally, he moved -carefully, deliberately- opening his mouth and letting his teeth pierce her skin with a precision that cost him all his focus.

The first sharp prick of his teeth made her inhale sharply. A faint, involuntary tremor ran through her arm as the initial sting bloomed into something warmer, deeper. She wasn’t sure if it was pain or something else entirely.

The taste of her blood, gods, it was like fire and life all at once. Sweet and warm, pouring over his tongue in a way that made his muscles coil tight and loose at the same time. His hands twitched, sharp nails grazing over her skin as his body screamed to hold her down, to drink deeper, faster, to take everything she had to offer and more.

But he didn’t.

Her breath came uneven as she watched him, locking her gaze on the way his lips sealed over her skin, on the way his throat worked as he swallowed. The sight, the feel of it, it was like she had fallen into some trance. Her limbs were heavy, and her mind sluggish, and she felt her body responding to the pull of his feeding. Was he doing this to her? Was this some kind of lure, some instinctual trick his kind possessed?

His eyes squeezed shut, and his whole body trembled with the effort it took to limit himself. He drank greedily -because he was starving, because every drop seemed to breathe strength back into his dying body- but still measured, still trying to keep some line between what he wanted and what he needed.

As the warm blood filled his mouth, he could feel the deeper wounds beginning to close from the inside, feel his body mending in a way that brought him back from that cliff’s edge of death. His lungs felt like they could take a full breath again. His mind was clearer, and his strength slowly unfurled like waking limbs.

But the hunger was still there.

Even when he knew it was enough -even if he knew that if he stopped now, and rested for a day or two, he would survive- his grip on her wrist strengthened, and his fingers curled possessively on her flesh. His jaw worked against her skin like he was trying to force himself to let go but couldn’t.

A small sound slipped from her throat -a barely-there whimper- when his grip briefly tightened, and his nails pressed just a little harder against her skin. His breath hitched against her wrist, and something in his chest rumbled, a deep, desperate sound that made her shiver.

Part of him wanted to drag her into the water, pull her close, and drink until there was nothing left in her but stillness, and then let the ocean to wash her away. The other part, the one that had pressed his nose against her neck and inhaled her scent wanted to…

A soft sound broke from his throat, something between a groan and a growl, muffled against her skin. His tendrils stirred weakly, shifting across the damp rock, aching to curl around her and keep her there, to not let her slip away.

But then her fingers threaded gently through his hair, and she whispered something he barely caught over the sound of his own ragged breathing.

"Hey... you're okay. You can stop now." Her voice, tender but strained, cut through the haze in his mind.

He swallowed thickly, still sensing her blood heavy on his tongue, and forced his teeth to release her wrist, leaving behind the dull ache of punctures and the slow, sluggish warmth of blood welling to the surface. He made a rough sound, part groan, part growl, as he slumped forward, pressing his forehead against her arm as if drained by his own restraint.

"Okay," she whispered again, as her other hand gently stroked along his shoulder as if soothing some wild creature. "That's enough, you’re okay."

He let out a breath, part relief, part remaining hunger that clouded the edges of his mind. But he didn’t move to bite again.

Didn’t dare.

Because whatever he was -monster, predator, or something in between- he didn’t want to be that to her.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @civilbucky @thatesqcrush @lonelyghosts-stuff @x-press-it @the-voice-beckons-below @angelilacsworld @dollface-xoxo @mcira @lazyneonrabbitt @vxllys @namjoohnie @sebastians-love @misspendragonsworld @thewriters64 @escapefromrealitylol @hi172826

dividers by @/strangergraphics

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #merman! Bucky #cecaelia! Bucky #cecaelia #bucky x curvy!reader #Mer! Bucky

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pinkmoontaco · 1 month ago

Note

Hi, love your work. Could you do a Wonwoo x idol!reader. Wonwoo is enlisting. where she gets to know from a Weverse announcement same as Carats and is mad at him and then he is explaining her why he hid that from her. Some angst and fluff at the end.

"You Should’ve Told Me." || Jeon Wonwoo

Pairing: Idol Wonwoo X Idol Reader Genre: Fluff, angst A.N: Please give it lots of love and support! Don’t forget to leave your thoughts, comments and don't forget to follow for more stories like this—they mean so much to me and help me improve. Your feedback and encouragement keep me motivated to keep writing. Thank you for being patient and sticking with me. Love you guys 💖💖 And also feel free to make any request for any other members or other groups M.list

The sound of your phone vibrating against the table barely registered at first. Practice had been brutal today, and your muscles ached as you finally settled on the couch. With a sigh, you grabbed your phone to check the endless notifications — but one stood out.

[Weverse Announcement]

"SEVENTEEN’s Jeon Wonwoo to enlist this July."

You froze.

Your eyes scanned the words again — once, twice — but the meaning never changed. July. Two months away. He was leaving... and you hadn’t even known.

Your hand clenched around the phone as a dull ache spread through your chest.

Why didn’t he tell me?

Heart pounding, you tapped his contact and pressed ‘call.’

It rang. Once... twice... straight to voicemail.

"Hey, this is Wonwoo. I’ll call you back soon."

You bite your lip, swallowing the lump rising in your throat.

"Is this how I was supposed to find out?"

Your fingers hovered over the screen. Part of you wanted to say more — something angrier, something sharper — but instead, you hit send.

It was nearly midnight when he showed up at your door.

You hadn’t moved from the couch. The silence in your apartment felt suffocating — too loud, yet too empty at the same time.

When the doorbell rang, you didn’t hesitate.

Wonwoo stood there, shoulders tense, eyes tired. He barely looked like himself — his usual calm replaced with something heavier.

“Y/N…” His voice was low, unsure. “Can I come in?”

“You’re a little late for that,” you muttered, stepping aside anyway.

He walked in, his steps hesitant. The air felt thick — like the weight of everything unsaid was pressing down on you both.

“You saw the announcement,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question — just a fact he couldn’t avoid.

“Of course I did.” Your voice trembled despite your best efforts. “Same as Carats. Same as strangers. Same as everyone else.”

“I was going to tell you.”

“When?” Your voice sharpened. “When you were packing your bags? When you were halfway to the military base?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” He admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I kept thinking… maybe if I waited a little longer, it’d be easier.”

“Easier?” You let out a bitter laugh. “For whom, Wonwoo? Because finding out like this? It didn’t exactly feel easy for me.”

His face crumpled slightly, like your words had hit harder than you’d intended.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he murmured. “I knew if I told you sooner, you’d just—” He exhaled sharply. “You’d spend every second worrying. I didn’t want you to carry that.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Your voice broke. “You didn’t want me to hurt, so you just... what? Pretended like nothing was happening? You let me believe we had all this time, and now I find out from a public post?”

“I thought I was protecting you,” he said quietly.

“You weren’t,” you snapped. “You were protecting yourself — because you didn’t want to deal with how hard this would be.”

Wonwoo flinched like you’d struck him. His gaze dropped to the floor, and for a moment, you wondered if he’d just leave — walk out like he always did when things got too overwhelming.

But then, his voice broke the silence.

“I was scared,” he said softly — so soft you almost didn’t hear it.

You froze.

“I was scared because…” He swallowed hard, his voice trembling. “Because if I told you, it would make it real. And if it was real… then I’d have to think about leaving you.”

His eyes were glassy now, his gaze fixed on you like he wasn’t sure if you’d pull away. Slowly — cautiously — he reached for your hand.

And this time... you didn’t stop him.

“You’re such an idiot,” you muttered, your fingers curling tightly around his.

“I know.” His lips twitched — the smallest smile breaking through. “But I’m your idiot.”

Despite everything, you let out a breathy laugh. “That’s barely an excuse.”

“I’ll do better,” he promised. His voice softened, warm and earnest. “I’ll tell you everything from now on — no more shutting you out.”

“You better.”

Before you could say anything more, he tugged you closer — arms circling your waist as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” he mumbled against your skin.

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, and you clutched him tightly — like letting go would make him disappear.

“I’ll wait for you,” you whispered. “No matter how long it takes.”

“You don’t have to,” he said softly, lifting his head to cup your face in his hands. His thumbs brushed away your tears with gentle strokes. “I don’t want you to put your life on hold.”

“I’m not putting my life on hold,” you murmured, leaning into his touch. “But I’m not going anywhere either. We’ll get through this.”

“You’re too good to me,” he whispered.

“You owe me for this one,” you teased with a watery smile.

“Anything you want,” he promised, pressing his forehead to yours. “Anything.”

“Just... come back to me,” you whispered.

“I will,” he breathed. “I swear.”

His lips found yours then — slow and gentle, like he was memorizing everything about you. When he pulled away, he kissed your forehead, your cheek, and the tip of your nose — like each kiss was a quiet promise to return.

“You’re stuck with me,” he whispered, voice warm against your skin. “Even if I’m miles away.”

“You’re such a sap,” you mumbled, smiling despite your tears.

“Only for you,” he grinned, finally — the smile you adored, the one that reached his eyes.

That night, you refused to let him leave. Instead, you pulled him down beside you on the couch, tangling your fingers with his as you curled into his side. His arm was firm around you, fingers lazily tracing circles on your arm — like he was grounding himself in your presence.

“I’m not leaving yet,” he whispered sleepily.

“I know,” you murmured. “But I just… want to stay like this a little longer.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “For as long as you want.”

And for the rest of the night, neither of you let go.

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bellaxgiornata · 1 month ago

Text

What's Left to Lose [1/2]

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 3.7k [Part two] [Jax Fic Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; nurse!Reader, angst with an eventual happy ending, pining, emotional hurt/delayed comfort, Tara is an ass, Reader has a brother (nameless/description-less to be inclusive as possible)

Summary: Ever since your brother patched into SAMCRO's charter and you moved to Charming three years ago, you and Jax grew close. Despite having quietly fallen in love with him, you'd accepted your position as just his best friend–until Tara unexpectedly returns to Charming and rips him straight from you. Now you're left feeling like nothing at all to him.

a/n: I've been craving something angsty with Jax, so I wrote this little thing that's been in my head all week. There's no comfort in this first part, but I'm intending to give it at least a part two. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Jax Teller One Shot Tag List: @kmc1989

Everything had changed in a matter of just a few weeks–and you absolutely hated it.

Over the past three years since you’d moved to Charming shortly after your brother had patched over to SAMCRO’s charter, you’d gotten used to Jax calling you a few times a week. He’d often be checking in to see if you were working a shift at the hospital that night or if you had plans with your other friends, because if you were free, he'd be inviting you to hang out so he could get a break from the guys’ bullshit. Other times you’d finish a shift to find a text or a voicemail from him telling you to get your sweet ass over to the clubhouse for a party before the chaos of it had even begun.

But your phone history showed that it had been almost a month since he last called you. The previous few texts you’d received from him had been just over a week ago, and they'd been short responses to the texts you had sent him asking if he wanted to have a few drinks with you–something that you’d both done frequently if he wasn’t wrapped up in club business–which he'd declined. Jax’s name barely ever appeared on the screen of your phone anymore.

Lately he kept telling you that he was busy. Because he was always busy now–too busy for you. Ever since Tara reappeared in Charming unannounced, stepping back into Jax’s life just over a month ago like she still belonged there, he had distanced himself from you. She'd been here barely more than a month and had already ripped your best friend away from you.

And Jax and you had always been incredibly close. While he and Opie had been best friends since childhood, the relationship between you and Jax had somehow become infinitely closer. The two of you talked about everything and anything, including some things you figured that he had accidentally drunkenly spilled to you on the nights he’d had a few too many to drink. There was just something about your relationship with each other that always felt easy and right, and you’d never had nearly as much fun with anyone else before you met Jax.

But now there were no more late nights drinking beers on the roof of the clubhouse while sharing cigarettes under the cover of a few stars while Jax vented about the direction the club was going in. No more getting high the day after a night of drinking, riding on the back of his bike to the gas station on the corner of Main Street and sharing a box of candy, a bag of chips, and a giant blue raspberry slushie as you both walked through downtown together. He didn’t seek you out at clubhouse parties anymore, didn’t step outside to smoke with you, and he certainly hadn’t incurred the look of warning from your brother that he usually received whenever you climbed off the back of his bike after one of your usual adventures.

As you walked through the brightly lit halls of St. Thomas Hospital, making your way back towards the nurse’s station so you could finish the last couple of hours of your shift after the break you'd just finished, you’d become painfully aware of his lack of visits while you worked, too. When things were running smoothly with the club, you could count on at least one surprise visit a week from Jax during your break times. He always brought you better coffee than the shit served here in one of his tumblers from home, a satisfied grin on his face every time you thanked him profusely for it like he’d just somehow saved your life. The pair of you would usually sit outside in the outdoor cafeteria of the hospital while Jax listened to you vent about your day. You always loved when he added his own amusing thoughts just to get you to laugh.

But those coffee breaks together had stopped the moment Tara had returned. Instead, you’d catch him in the halls every once in a while making his way towards her office, greeting you with a nod and a couple of words and nothing more. Or you might see him in the parking lot leaning against his bike, his attention fixed on his phone as he clearly waited for her to finish her shift.

Waiting for her. Not you.

You didn't understand what was happening between them, either. During one of the many drunken nights you’d spent with your head resting on Jax’s shoulder, the pair of you leaning against the wall behind his dorm room bed at the clubhouse, you’d learned that she had tried to drag him from the club eleven years ago. She had given him some sort of ultimatum, stating that he would leave Charming with her if he truly loved her.

The way he'd spoken about that last conversation they’d had–with an agonizing calmness and a vacant look in his eyes–told you everything you needed to know that you knew he'd never say. When she left him all those years ago, she had completely destroyed him. You knew Jax well enough to know the real reason he never got serious with anyone, the reason he never let anyone get too close to him, and the reason he’d never gone on a single date as long as you'd known him. It was because of her. Because of the hurt that still lingered inside of him when it came to Tara, the hurt that had never completely healed. Because she had absolutely done a number on his heart and his trust.

That was why you’d never pushed for anything more than friendship with him, never tried to see if he felt any of the things you did those times you two were more affectionate than friends should ever be. You’d come to understand that he’d never gotten over her from the very little he ever opened up about her. It was also why you’d reluctantly forced yourself to look the other way whenever he took some croweater to his dorm room when he was wasted. You knew those girls meant nothing to him, that they weren't anything but something more satisfying than his own hand. So you let it go because you always held onto the hope that someday he might realize there was something more than friendship between the two of you. You had hope that someday he'd see it. Stupid, foolish, steadfast hope.

Until Tara came back and set all your hopes on fire.

Turning the corner of the hallway as you navigated the hospital, you felt your heart sink to your feet at the sight of the white doctor's coat making its way towards you at the opposite end of the hall. Because of course you’d have to run into her today. St. Thomas wasn’t that large of a hospital after all, it was often impossible to avoid running into her here.

The second Tara spotted you, a bitter smile twisted her lips upwards. It was the same look she’d been giving you for the past two weeks now, ever since one of the other nurses mentioned that Jax used to come here and visit you all the time before he'd been stopping by to see her. And she’d very quickly decided that she didn’t like you after that, always shooting you dirty looks or making passive aggressive comments about how haggard you looked, or hinting at you being some sort of club pussy on your nights off. Always talking down to you with that petulant smile on her face.

“Don’t you have a bedpan to be cleaning up or something?” she commented as she neared.

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes at one of her many attempts to demean your position as a nurse, you set your jaw and kept on walking down the hall. Giving in to the urge to break her nose–to prove to her that she wasn’t nearly as tough as she thought she was–was always so strong whenever she opened her mouth. But you’d most likely end up fired, with an assault charge, and a guarantee that Jax would only continue to keep you out of his life. So you refrained from ever acting on the impulse.

“Oh, you're trying to ignore me now?” Tara asked, her words clearly meant to taunt. Her footsteps down the otherwise empty hall came to a stop behind you before you heard her voice again. “Still pissed at me for being the one he wants, are you?”

Arms crossing over your chest, you could feel your hands balling into fists as she goaded your retreating form. Just one hit. One right hook straight to her nose like your brother had taught you all those years ago. That would shut her goddamn mouth up. But instead you grit your teeth and kept on walking.

“You will never be what he wants, you know,” Tara called down the hall after you.

Stopping mid-step, you halted in the middle of the empty corridor. Those same words had echoed in your mind for years now, usually in your own internal voice. It was a fear you’d had for a while as Jax continued to keep you at arm’s length, burning through girls in his bed like it was nothing while still only playfully flirting with you. Until he’d gone back to following Tara’s shadow like an angry, lost puppy the first chance he got.

“But you know that, right?” she continued, clearly pleased that she’d caused you to stop. “You’re nothing but a small town nurse who gets wasted and high in her free time at that clubhouse. No better than the croweaters sucking whatever cock swings their way.”

Head whipping over your shoulder, your eyes narrowed back at Tara. “I’m not a fucking club whore,” you snapped.

“Right,” she said with a nod, stalking towards you with far too much confidence. “Because your brother is a Son. So you think that somehow makes you better than the other girls trying to catch their attention, right?”

She came to a stop just in front of you, the toes of her shoes practically touching yours. As she leaned her face towards you in an attempt to intimidate, invading your personal space, you found yourself struggling to keep your composure. Everything inside of you just wanted to take a swing at her, just one.

“But you’re not,” she continued, voice dropping into a low hiss. “You’re just as useless and forgettable as the rest of the stupid fucking girls that hang around the club with their tits and their asses out. You mean absolutely nothing to Jax. Just as little as all the other croweaters. You always have.”

A sick, roiling sensation hit you in the gut at her words. You wanted to spit something back in her face, to tell her that she was wrong and far too fucking full of herself. But you hesitated, the month long absence of Jax from your life making you question your ability to even argue otherwise before she was speaking again.

“He’s mine,” she warned you. “He’ll always be mine. And you will never, ever have a place in his life. Not just because you don’t matter to him like I do,” she continued sharply, “but because I’ll never let you near him.”

“You don’t even know him.”

The words that you’d been wanting to scream at her for weeks every time she’d looked at you wrong or said something cruel finally fell right from your lips. You couldn’t hold them back as you unflinchingly held her glare with your own despite the way it felt like a fist was squeezing your heart in your chest as the words ‘you don’t matter to him’ repeated in your mind.

Tara laughed bitterly before she straightened, no longer directly in your face. “I know him better than anyone,” she disagreed. “Including you.”

“You know a teenager from eleven years ago,” you shot back, hands still balled into fists as your arms hugged your chest tighter. “You don’t know the man he is now–what’s in his heart and his head. You don’t know a damn thing about him anymore.”

Tara’s lips twitched briefly at the corners, her eyes still narrowed at you as they ran up and down the length of you in silent appraisal. “I know damn well you’re not what he wants,” she spat. “You’re forgettable. Not someone worth a second look. I can promise you, he will never want you like you so clearly and pathetically want him. So I suggest you let it go and stop trying to text him asking to spend time with you before I make sure he never wants to look in your direction again.” That ruthless little grin was back on her lips. “And believe me, I could do that. Make him hate you. Make him revulsed at the sight of you.”

As much as you wanted to call her bluff, there was a part of you that truthfully was afraid that she could manage to do exactly that. Pit Jax against you, make him hate you. With the way he’d been acting the past few weeks, he hadn’t seemed like the Jax you’d gotten to know over the last three years at all. And the last thing you wanted was to lose your best friend even if it felt like you already had.

A self-satisfied smirk pulled at Tara’s lips when she saw how quickly that threat had silenced you. She knew she’d gotten under your skin finally. But before either of you could say another word, a figure appeared at the other end of the hallway. The movement caused both of you to turn your heads before you caught sight of Jax just as he realized he’d stumbled into something happening between the two of you. His expression shifted between a mixture of things so quickly that you only managed to catch a couple of emotions–surprise, guilt, frustration–before he’d thrown that usual stoic calm over his features which often made him impossible to read.

“Everything good here?” Jax asked as he sauntered towards the pair of you.

You’d been about to answer, but Tara beat you to it as she gestured a hand in your direction.

“You really need to get a handle on the croweaters “ She sent you a sidelong glare before adding on, “They clearly don't know when their mouths are wanted.”

“She’s not a croweater, Tara,” Jax replied, sounding tired.

He glanced over towards you, taking in your posture as you noticed how exhausted and worn down he looked. He looked as if he hadn’t been sleeping well for a few days. His blonde, shaggy hair was messier and more disheveled than usual, and even the way he carried himself seemed a little off–sluggish and weary. You wondered if it was his thoughts or something else keeping him up late at night before you quickly shut those thoughts down. You probably didn’t want to know the answer.

“I’ll meet you in your office, alright?” he said, focusing back on Tara. “Just gimme a minute.”

Tara stood there eyeing you, that smugness still radiating off of her before she finally continued down the hall in the direction she'd been going in initially. Your attention remained on Jax, studying his face as his eyes followed Tara’s retreating form until it was gone. Then he ran a hand across his mouth in agitation as his gaze drifted back to you.

“What're you doing?” he asked.

Your brows immediately drew together at the accusation in his tone. “What are you talking about?”

Jax’s head gestured towards where Tara had just disappeared. “Talking to Tara,” he clarified. “Whatever that was clearly wasn't friendly. What're you doing?”

Lips parting in surprise, you couldn't believe he was blaming you for that tense situation he had just stumbled on. Jax had always known you to be fairly level-headed even if you were blunt and spoke your mind. You didn't start shit at the clubhouse despite the few times you'd shut a girl up when you'd truly needed to and he knew that.

“Oh, so I'm the one starting shit?” you shot back incredulously. “Is that the bullshit she's poisoning you with?”

Jax made a face immediately, his expression twisting into one of distaste. “Poisoning me? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The look on his face gave you pause before you could blurt out everything that'd been on your mind about him and Tara since she returned. But you could see the way his brows had drawn together as his eyes narrowed back at you, his mouth a tight line. He was getting pissed. At you. Something that had never happened before. You knew Tara was a topic that had often been off-limits with him in the past, so calling out her bullshit seemed like it'd get you nowhere with him, even if he desperately needed someone to yank his head out of his own ass.

“She stopped me,” you said instead. “Trust me, I have no desire to have hallway chats with her. That was all on her.”

“Just stay outta shit with Tara,” he told you, moving to step past you like he was already done talking to you. “It’s none of your business.”

Your eyes finally fell to what he was holding in his hand as he took a step forward in the direction of Tara’s office. It was a tumbler. Probably a tumbler filled with coffee. Just like he used to always bring you. The sight of it left you breathless, feeling as if someone had just slammed their fist right into your chest and knocked the wind straight out of you.

“You're bringing her coffee now?” the question slipped softly out before you could stop it.

For the briefest moment, Jax looked guilty at your question and the tone of your voice as his eyes fell to the cup in his hand. But almost as quickly, his jaw tensed and he focused back on you.

“It's none of your business, like I already said,” he snapped.

“So that's it then?” you asked, your mouth suddenly having a mind of its own. “You only have time for Tara now?”

Jax turned back towards you, that frustration from a moment ago returning and setting him off like a lit match. He tensed as he stepped towards you, his eyes narrowed into a sharp glare.

“Maybe I've been fucking busy,” he snapped at you. “You think of that? Maybe I don't have time to sit and drink with you because I've got other shit going on.”

“For a month, Jax?” you asked in disbelief. “Too busy to call or text? Too busy to talk when I'm at the clubhouse? You've been like that ever since Tara came back–you're avoiding me.”

“What?” he snapped, shaking his head at you. “You think I'm avoiding you, is that what this is? You're mad cause you're not getting all my attention? Are you fucking serious right now?”

“I'm mad because you haven't been acting like yourself lately!” you shot back, waving a hand at him. “You never get mad at me like this!”

“Cause you're actually pissing me off right now!” he yelled back.

Those words quieted you, your mouth closing before another thing could come out of it. You'd clearly gone too far and now he was probably just going to push you further away. And dammit, that hurt. All of this hurt.

He pointed a finger in your face as he leaned in towards you, his voice growing dangerously calm as he continued. “Leave the shit with Tara alone, I'm not gonna say it again,” he warned you. “It ain’t your goddamn business. Stay the hell outta it.”

He didn't stand there another second longer before he turned and headed off in the direction Tara had left a few minutes ago, abruptly ending the conversation with you. You stood there watching the back of him, your eyes fixed on the reaper of his kutte until he disappeared towards her office and left you standing alone in the hallway.

A strangled, choked noise fought its way up your chest and out of your mouth before you threw a hand over it. Everything felt like it was suddenly crumbling around you, a burning ache exploding in your chest at the way Jax had just gone off on you.

Ducking into the empty room nearby, you could feel the sting of tears as you slipped inside. You abruptly shut the door after yourself before sinking to the floor, your back to the door as both of your hands flew over your mouth to muffle the sounds of the sobs beginning to fall out of you.

That hadn't been like Jax at all. Not with you. He'd never gotten pissed like that at you before, never gotten in your face. Even when he was in a bad mood, he'd always been careful with you. Always immediately apologized the handful of times he'd accidentally snapped at you.

But not this time.

Warm, wet tears spilled down your cheeks as you shook with sobs against the closed hospital room door. The memory of the way Jax had looked at you just now had Tara’s earlier threat running through your mind again. How she could make him hate you, never want to look in your direction again. Was that what she was already doing?

Where the hell had the Jax you knew for the past three years gone? The one who'd held you close when you'd had a really bad week at the hospital and never minded if you'd cried on his shoulder? The one who used to make you smile with his smartass mouth, and who sent you voicemails to tell you about some ridiculous thing that happened when you'd been working a late shift at the hospital and couldn't be there to witness it? Where was the Jax who'd pick you up sloppy drunk from girls night outs with your friends and called you adorable as he made sure you got home safe?

What the hell had she done to him?

#jax teller x reader #jax teller x you #jax teller #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #soa fanfiction

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childrenofcain-if · 4 months ago

Note

Alternate universe where D is a football player because I can honestly see it 😂

They'd still be FwB with MC, who's a cheerleader (I love cliches heh). But at one of their final matches, they immediately run to MC after winning and kisses them in front of everyone. I've been thinking about this a lot

the locker room smelled like a nauseating mixture of sweat and antiseptic. there was an overall nervous energy in the whole area because of the upcoming game: the biggest of the season.

yale (bulldogs) vs princeton (tigers). the oldest college football rivalry in america since 1873. truthfully though? you really did not have that as your priority at the moment.

D’s shoulders were tense as they leaned against the row of lockers, their football gear half on, half off, like they couldn’t decide if they were gearing up for the game or gearing up for this conversation with you. you stood in front of them, your arms crossed, trying to hide the way your voice wavered as you spoke.

“why are we even doing this if it doesn’t mean anything to you?” you asked, your words sharper than you’d intended. you didn’t want to sound hurt, but the cracks were already showing and you hated yourself even more for it. “you said you loved me, D. was that a joke?”

D flinched, their jaw tightening.

“it wasn’t a joke,” they muttered, not meeting your eyes. “you know it wasn’t.“

“then what the hell is this?” you gestured between the two of you, the space that felt both too close and too far apart. “why can’t you just—” you stopped, biting back the lump rising in your throat. “why can’t you just be fair to us for once?”

D ran a hand through their damp brown hair, their helmet still sitting on the bench behind them. “because it’s complicated, alright? i’m really not good at this. i don’t know how to—”

“how to what?” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “how to be with someone who actually loves you? how to let yourself care about someone? how to not be a complete asshole?”

their silence was worse than any answer they could have given. you felt the sting of it like a slap.

“forget it,” you said, your voice quieter now, resigned. “this isn’t worth it. i’m not worth it, apparently. not to you.”

“don’t say that,” D said quickly, their voice low and rough, but before they could step toward you, the door opened, and your cheer teammates poked their heads in.

“hey, come on!” one of them called, her tone light but urgent. “we’ve gotta go!”

you hesitated, your gaze flicking between D and the exit. you wanted them to say something—anything—that would make you stay, that would make you believe this wasn’t just another dead end. but they didn’t.

so you left, letting the door swing shut behind you, leaving D standing there with their heart in their throat and everything unsaid on their tongue.

***

the stadium was alive in a way that almost felt sentient, the roar of the crowd reverberating through the air, through the ground, through your chest.

the cheer routine was designed to dazzle; full of sharp, explosive movements, tight formations, and splits that skimmed the edge of possibility. every count of the eight-beat rhythm had its place: a high V at one, a perfectly synchronized clap at three, a ripple of tumbling that broke apart and came back together like a flock of birds midflight.

there wasn’t room for hesitation. you had drilled it for weeks, the choreographer shouting corrections until the moves were muscle memory. your body knew what to do, even if your mind was stuck somewhere else.

somewhere else was D.

you couldn’t see them from the sidelines, not at first. the field was a mass of bodies, yale’s blue and white clashing violently with princeton’s orange and black, and it all blurred together under the floodlights.

the roar of the crowd pressed against you, a wall of sound that rattled your ribs, the kind of noise that demanded participation. you gripped your pom-poms tightly, smiling like your heart wasn’t threatening to give out, and launched into the first set of motions.

high kick. clap. shimmy. back handspring.

on the outside, you looked flawless, exactly like what the crowd wanted: all energy and excitement, no cracks in the façade. on the inside, your chest was a knot, the fight with D replaying on an endless loop in your head like a broken VHS tape.

the pyramid was next, the most complicated part of the routine. the bases braced themselves, strong and steady, while the flyers climbed onto their hands. you were in the middle, the top of the pyramid, the highest point for the crowd to see. it was a position of trust. you had to believe your teammates wouldn’t let you fall. it wasn’t something you usually thought about, but tonight, the irony cut deeper than you wanted to admit.

when you extended into the final pose, one leg straight, one bent, arms raised, your eyes landed on D for the first time.

they were in the huddle, standing tall as the team circled around them and the coach, their helmet tucked under one arm. the older man was shouting something you couldn’t hear, D’s face fierce with focus. you wanted to stay angry, but instead, you felt your chest tighten.

D was magnetic in the way they moved, their command of the team absolute. you hated how much you still wanted to be near them, how much your body betrayed you even when your heart was screaming.

the pyramid dismounted, your teammates catching you as you came down. you barely noticed the applause; you were too busy watching D jog onto the field for the first play.

***

D’S POV

D glanced toward the sideline. toward you. again.

it was ridiculous, the way you could disarm them from thirty yards away. you weren’t even looking at them. your head was bent close to one of your friend’s, your pom-poms hanging loosely in your hands. you were supposed to be listening to your captain, but D could see the faint smile on your lips, the way you kept sneaking glances toward the field like you weren’t paying attention at all.

like your eyes were searching for D.

D tore their eyes away before anyone could notice. they didn’t need their teammates teasing them about this—not right now. it was bad enough that their chest felt like it was caving in every time they saw you, bad enough that your fight before the game was still fresh in their head, your voice sharp and shaking, your words a blade sliding between their ribs.

why can’t you just be fair to us?

the truth was, they didn’t know how to. not the right way. not in a way that didn’t make them feel like they were standing naked in a room full of strangers, every scar and bruise and ugly thing about them laid bare.

you deserved better than the mess that they were. you deserved someone who didn’t flinch at the idea of love. someone who could give you everything without being afraid they’d ruin it before it began.

but even as they told themselves that, D knew they couldn’t let you go. not really. not ever.

“alright, team,” coach barked, snapping D back to the present. “this is it. princeton’s undefeated this season, but so are we. you want to be champions? prove it. show everyone you’ve got what it takes.”

the team roared their agreement, slapping helmets and clapping shoulders, the kind of camaraderie that made D feel grounded and restless all at once. they shoved their helmet on and jogged out to the field, their cleats digging into the turf, their breath coming steady and sharp.

they could do this. for the team, for the win, for yale.

no.

for you.

***

the first quarter passed in a blur of plays and hits, the kind of bone-rattling intensity that left D’s hands shaking with adrenaline. they took the snap, rolled back, dodged a tackle by inches, and launched the ball downfield.

the crowd erupted as yale’s receiver caught it just shy of the endzone, but D didn’t stop to celebrate. their eyes found you again, like a compass always pointing to their north star.

you were clapping, your pom-poms bouncing, but there was something off about your gorgeous smile. it didn’t reach your eyes, and D knew it was their fault. they’d put that ache there, and it killed them to see it.

focus. they had to focus.

***

the second quarter was worse. princeton’s defense was relentless, their linemen big enough to make D feel small—a very uncomfortable thing. every play felt like a war, every hit a reminder of how close they were to losing. the score was tied at halftime, and the locker room was a mess of noise and sweat and tension.

“get your head in the game, diaconu,” their coach snapped, pulling D aside as the team filed out. “you’re playing like you’ve got something else on your mind. whatever it is, leave it in here. got it?”

“got it,” D said, even though they didn’t.

they didn’t leave it in the locker room. they carried it back onto the field, where it sat heavy in their chest, driving them forward and holding them back all at once.

you were watching. D could feel your eyes on them every time they stepped up to the line, every time they called a play. it made them want to be better, to play harder, to show you that they weren’t just a coward who couldn’t say the words you needed to hear.

it wasn’t enough to just win. they had to earn you back.

***

YOUR POV

you watched in horror as princeton’s linebacker, a hulking person who looked more suited for professional wrestling than college football, blindsided D after a throw.

it was a dirty hit, helmet to helmet, and D went down hard. you froze, pom-poms slack in your hands, as the crowd erupted in boos. for a second, D didn’t move, and your chest seized with panic. but then they rolled onto their side, their hand going to their helmet, and relief flooded through you so fast it made you dizzy.

they got up, wobbling slightly, and waved off the trainers who tried to check on them.

your fingers dug into the plastic of your pom-poms, the edges biting into your skin. you wanted to scream at them to stop being so stubborn, to let someone take care of them for once. but you were stuck on the sidelines, powerless to do anything but watch.

it was the last quarter and the score was tied, and every play felt like life or death. the crowd was on its feet, the noise deafening, as D took the snap for the final play. they dropped back, scanning the field, their movements precise and fluid. princeton’s defense was closing in, but D didn’t flinch. and then, with a leap that seemed to defy gravity, they threw the ball downfield.

touchdown.

the stadium erupted. the crowd screamed. the cheer squad jumped and waved their pom-poms like their life depended on it, but you couldn’t move. you just stood there, your heart pounding, your eyes locked on D.

they ripped off their helmet, their face flushed and damp with sweat, and for a moment, they let their teammates surround them, clapping them on the back, shouting their praise. but D’s eyes were searching, scanning the sidelines, until they found you.

and then they ran.

it wasn’t graceful or dramatic—it was desperate and urgent, like they couldn’t get to you fast enough. the crowd blurred around you, the noise fading into a dull hum, as D closed the distance between you.

they didn’t stop when they reached you, just grabbed you and pulled you into their arms, burying their face in your shoulder like they were afraid to let go. you could feel their heartbeat racing, their chest heaving as they caught their breath.

“i’m sorry,” D said, their voice muffled against your uniform. “i’m so sorry. i’m an idiot. i was scared, okay? i love you and i didn’t want to screw this up. i didn’t want to screw you up.”

you pulled back just enough to look at them, their gray eyes raw and unguarded, and you felt your own walls crumbling rapidly.

“you love me?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

D nodded, their hands gripping your arms like you might vanish if they let go.

“i do. i love you,” they said, their voice cracking. “i love you so much it scares the hell out of me.”

you didn’t even realize you were crying until D’s thumb brushed a tear off your cheek. you let out a shaky laugh, leaning into them.

“i’m still supposed to be mad at you,” you said, but there was no heat in it.

D smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made your chest ache.

“yeah,” they said. “but can you be mad at me and be completely mine?”

you nodded, choking back a sob as you wrapped your arms around their neck, pulling them into a kiss. the noise of the crowd surged back in, louder than ever, and it mingled with D and your teammates hollering suddenly. but it didn’t matter. nothing mattered except D’s lips on yours, their hands on your waist, the way they held you like you were their centre of gravity.

when you finally pulled back, D rested their forehead against yours, their breath warm against your skin.

“will you still be cheering for me, baby?” they asked, their voice soft but hopeful.

you laughed through your tears, pressing another kiss to their lips. “always.”

#i love cliché scenarios lmao #just had to add D’s POV for the yearning 😤#please look away if you’re a cheer expert #had to do my own research for this lmao #i hope this is okay 😭#if: the ballad of the young gods #interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive story #twine wip #ro: d diaconu #ro scenarios

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httpvomitello · 4 months ago

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Cold Heart *⁠.⁠✧ (part 2)

cregan stark x targ!reader

WARNING: angst, not a happy ending (?)

(part 1) (part 3)

The days following your outburst in the Great Hall passed in a haze. You avoided Cregan as much as possible, and he seemed content to let the silence stretch between you. The icy walls of Winterfell felt more like a prison than ever before.

Rickon, sensing the tension but not understanding its source, clung to you with a desperation that only deepened your heartbreak. He asked you once, in his small, hesitant voice, if you were angry with his father.

“No, sweetling,” you whispered, stroking his dark hair. “I’m just… tired.”

It wasn’t a lie. Exhaustion weighed heavily on you—not from the duties of being Lady of Winterfell, but from the constant ache of loving a man who would never love you back.

One evening, unable to bear the silence any longer, you sat at your writing desk and penned a letter to your mother.

Mother,

I have done all that was asked of me. I have been patient. I have been kind. But I cannot thaw the North, and I cannot make a man love me who does not wish to. My heart feels as if it has been crushed beneath the weight of a thousand winters. I wonder if this alliance was worth the cost.

You stared at the words for a long time, your quill hovering above the parchment.

Do you even know what you have done to me?

Your hand trembled as you added the final line. You folded the letter carefully, but you could not bring yourself to summon the raven. What good would it do? Rhaenyra would only remind you of your duty, of the importance of the alliance, of the greater good.

The letter remained tucked away in the desk, a secret burden you carried alone.

The tension between you and Cregan finally came to a head late one night. The storm outside was fierce, the winds howling like wolves at the gates. You had been restless, pacing your chambers, when the door opened, and Cregan stepped inside.

He looked as tired as you felt, his shoulders heavy with some unseen weight. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, regarding you with an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“What do you want, Cregan?” you asked, your voice sharper than intended.

“I came to speak,” he said, his tone measured.

“You’ve had months to speak,” you replied, turning away from him. “And yet you’ve said nothing.”

“I didn’t know what to say.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? You never know what to say. You never know how to feel. You don’t even know how to look at me without seeing her shadow.”

His jaw tightened, and for the first time, you saw a flicker of anger in his eyes.

“Do not speak of things you don’t understand,” he said, his voice low and warning.

“Don’t I?” you shot back, turning to face him fully. “I understand better than you think. I understand what it means to love someone so deeply it consumes you. But you—” Your voice broke, and you forced yourself to continue. “You’ve never given me the chance to show you what we could be. You won’t even try.”

Cregan took a step forward, his expression stormy. “And what would you have me do? Forget her? Pretend she never existed?”

“I would have you see me!” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “I am not her, Cregan, and I never will be. But I am here. I have been here, trying, every single day, and you—”

Your voice faltered as he closed the distance between you. For a moment, you thought he might reach for you, might finally break through the walls he had built.

But he didn’t.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t give you what you want.”

The finality in his words shattered something inside you. You stepped back, your breath hitching as you tried to compose yourself.

“Then why did you marry me?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“Because I had to,” he admitted, his eyes meeting yours with a raw honesty that hurt more than any lie could have. “Because the North needed it. Because Rickon needed it. But I never wanted this, and I never wanted to hurt you.”

You stared at him, your heart breaking all over again. “But you have,” you said quietly. “You’ve hurt me more than you’ll ever know.”

Without another word, he turned and left, the door closing behind him with a finality that echoed in the silence of your chambers.

The days that followed were colder than ever, though the snow had stopped falling. You threw yourself into your duties, avoiding Cregan whenever possible. Rickon became your solace, his innocent laughter the only thing that kept you from succumbing to the despair that threatened to consume you.

But even he could not erase the emptiness in your heart.

Late one night, unable to sleep, you found yourself standing before the godswood. The heart tree loomed above you, its ancient branches creaking in the wind. You knelt before it, tears streaming down your face as you whispered a prayer to gods you didn’t fully believe in.

“Give me the strength to bear this,” you pleaded. “Or give me the freedom to leave.”

The gods, as always, were silent.

#reader #x reader #y/n #f!reader #hotd cregan #hotd x female reader #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd #x female reader #targaryen reader #cregan stark x targaryen reader #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan x you #cregan stark #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon

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isoobie · 13 days ago

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SECOND CHANCE ─── lee heeseung smau

003 bagged the fine shyt #ilovelife

⠀ WRITTEN PART

the bar was dimly lit, casting warm shadows over the scattered glasses between you and heeseung. your cheeks flushed— not entirely from the alcohol, but from the irritation still simmering in your chest. you didn’t want to spend your evening with him but it was the least you could do to show some respect for the help he had given you today. heeseung sat across from you, lazily swirling his drink as a smug grin tugged at the corners of his lips.

“i don’t even know why i agreed to this,” you muttered, leaning back in your chair and folding your arms. you hated how easily he seemed to brush everything off, how he could sit there looking so insufferably pleased with himself, even after all the begging he had done just for a mere ‘thank you’ from you in return.

“well maybe it’s because you can’t resist my charm, pretty girl” he says teasingly, tilting his head slightly, his grin widening.

“don’t flatter yourself,” you shoot back, trying to ignore the fact that the stupid nickname shifted something inside of you. “i’m only here because you helped me earlier. that doesn’t mean i’ve forgiven you.”

heeseung chuckled, the sound low and infuriatingly smooth, “forgiven me for what, exactly? are we going to forget the fact that you left on your accord, without telling me?”

the way his gaze lingered on you made your skin tickle. you hated how smug he looked— and how was right in this situation. the reason for your breakup all those years ago was because of you, if you hadn’t left and told him, maybe everything would be fine now.

for a moment, heeseung’s smirk faltered, his gaze softened, and he leaned forward, mirroring your posture. “you know i’m right, there’s no need for a debate, yn.”

you opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat. the truth of his statement stung more than you cared to admit. instead, you grabbed your drink and took a long sip, hoping the sharp taste of the alcohol would drown out the ache in your chest.

the silence stretched for a while, thick with tension, until heeseung broke it with a soft laugh. “you know,” he said, his tone lighter now, “we’re both terrible at this.”

“at what?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

“at pretending we don’t care,” he replied, his eyes locking onto yours. there was no teasing in his gaze now, just a pure, honest look that made your breath hitch.

you looked away, your fingers tightening around your glass. “i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, the words sounding shallow even to your own ears. ever since you stepped foot into the bar your past feelings for heeseung had seemed to resurface and mess with your head, even the blind date didn’t make you questions your feelings this much. you hated it— despised how heeseung made you feel this way, vulnerable and out of control.

before you could register, he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “you know, i don’t really mind if you wanna kiss right now.”

your head snapped up, your eyes meeting his. “what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper trying to take in what he just said.

he shrugged, his smug smirk returning, though it was softer this time. “just saying, we’re both tipsy, and— it’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

you wanted to retaliate, to push him away, but the words wouldn’t come. instead, heeseung found the so called ‘words’ for you as he leaned in closer, your breath hitching as the space between you disappeared. his lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, but the moment you responded— the kiss deepened, and all the tension had melted away just how you two melted into each other.

it wasn’t just a kiss— it was everything unsaid, everything unresolved, everything you both wanted to tell one and other, pouring out in a way neither of you could control. his hand found its way to your cheek, his touch was soft and so gentle heeseung thought you would break if he held you any tighter, and for a moment, the anger, the frustration, the history— it all vanished away, leaving only the two of you in the comfort of each other’s presence.

when you finally pulled back, breathless and wide-eyed, heeseung had a satisfied grin plastered on his face. “see?” he said, his voice teasing but warm. “no harm done.”

you rolled your eyes trying to ignore your impulsive actions, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “let’s go now.” you muttered, though this time, there was no heat behind your words.

⠀ PREV MLIST NEXT

NOTE 👜 kiss scene oh!

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reganwasacarpenter · 1 month ago

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different - G.A 🎧ྀི♪⋆.✮

pairing - gracie abrams x guitarist!reader

summary - based on this lovely ask: “Could you write Gracie Abrams x Reader? Where the reader is a part of her crew/band, and they’ve been lowkey crushing on each other for ages. There’s tons of mutual pining, shy glances, late-night chats on the tour bus… until one night, they get stuck alone in the venue after everyone else leaves, and the tension finally breaks. Make any changes if you want and thank you!”

word count - 1.08k (i got carried away… whoops!)

cw - fem!reader, angst if you squint, love confession, kissing, fluff, idiots in love, cutie pie gracie 🎀

──────── ୨ৎ────────

the second you stepped foot on the stage, saw the buzzing crowd, and felt the excitement in the air, you knew this would be an unforgettable night. it was another night of the secret of us tour, but this didn’t feel like any other show, something felt… different. and maybe it was the way gracie performed, with sheer, raw emotion, or the response from the crowd. or maybe it was the way you felt about her, the way she looked at you tonight, or how her arm would subtly brush against yours when she introduced the band. something had changed.

you and gracie had an instant connection when you first met, and you only seemed to grow closer. talks on the tour bus long after the sun went down, wandering around together on off-days, and pure laughter were just a small part of your dynamic. you had first seen gracie as a close friend, but those lines started to blur. it wasn’t friendship anymore.

hanging out with her was now dangerous, because when she would laugh, you realized how badly you wanted to hear it again. or when she would look at you, you wished she would never look away. but you noticed something had changed with gracie too.

her touches became less rare, and she would have a hand on you more often than not. your once-in-a-while late-night talks seemed to happen every night, and sometimes, as much as you tried to convince yourself you were delusional, you would look up and already find her looking back at you.

but still, you couldn’t be sure how she felt. it had been months, and your relationship didn’t really… progress. at times, you would think about telling her, but she would remind you often how great of a friend you were, and that made you swallow your feelings.

but then again, tonight was going to be different. and it was, in a very obvious way.

after the show, you walked back to the stage to finish gathering your equipment, only to find a certain short-haired girl already there. gracie was seated on the edge of the stage, with what looked like a well-worn journal cradled in her hands, scribbling with a pen. you watched her for a moment, admiring the way she made the simplest of things look so much more intriguing. not wanting to disrupt her peaceful moment, you softened your steps. but even without looking up, she spoke at your presence.

“i’ve been thinking about you.” she closed her journal, simply placing it beside her.

you took a shallow breath in, pausing what you were doing, darting your eyes immediately toward her. she didn’t look back at you, and her fingers played with the hem of her oversized sweater. she seemed nervous.

you swallowed. “you have?” your voice came out softer than you intended, a lot more careful, almost as if you were worried she would dart off and run if you spoke too loudly.

she finally looked back at you, her gaze was a lot more delicate than usual, and it almost made your heart stop. “yeah—” she continued, taking in a breath, “—a lot, actually.”

in that moment, the feeling of today being different returned. the air was a lot heavier now, in a feeling that was never before expressed. it made your mouth dry, and you weren’t sure quite what to say, or what you even could say. it scared you, frankly, because if you let yourself believe she meant it, in the way you so desperately wanted to believe, then you weren’t sure you could hide behind the facade of friendship any longer.

“what about me?” you replied, feigning innocence just in case this turned out a completely different way than you were thinking.

gracie exhaled, a quiet laugh escaping her lips. she shook her head. “i don’t know,” she let out, but then she bit her lip, reconsidering. “actually, that’s not true. i do know, i just don’t know how to say it.”

you gulped, finally beginning to make your way towards her. “well—” you started, “just try.” you said, sitting next to her on the stage, acting like this wasn’t a big deal.

she hesitated, opening her mouth to speak, but no words came out. she glanced back at you, finally saying, “being around you feels… different than it should.” it came out as a whisper, but it was the loudest sentence you’d ever heard. “this has grown a lot past friendship for me—because of you. i think about you when you aren’t even around me, and when you are, it’s like you’re all i can think about.”

your heart seemed to be in your throat now, hammering so loud you were sure she could hear it.

“you’re a really good friend—” she continued, and your stomach dropped, fearing for the worst, but she simply just licked her lips. “and i don’t want to lose that—” she reached over, grabbing your hand in hers, “but i can’t keep pretending like this is nothing. like we are… nothing.”

and in that moment, you were sure nothing else mattered, just you and gracie, and the line of what you were and what you could be. what you both wanted.

so, you took a sharp inhale, asking her the question that you weren’t sure you wanted an answer to.

“what do you want this to be?”

she met your eyes again, and this time, there wasn’t any hesitation.

“…you,” she said. “i just want you.”

you felt her gaze on you. her glance weighed on you. it pulled you in. you contemplated looking back, in fear of what would happen if you did. you’d break, and for all you knew, you’d throw yourself on top of her and kiss her with so much force you’d end up on the floor. so you didn’t.

but gracie had other plans.

“look at me.” she called, and you could still see her stare out of your peripheral vision. it was heavy, weighted with feeling. you hesitated. you would break. you couldn’t break. she meant too much to you.

so gracie took matters into her own hands.

she reached for you, cupping your face and pulling you close. she kissed you, and as much as you pretended you didn’t want this, you kissed her back with just as much force.

you pulled back, and finally met gracie’s eyes. you smiled slightly, tilting your head.

“i like this kind of different.”

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regsresponds! - okay so boom she drops a fic… first one too so yay! lmk what u think, love yall goodbye 😝

#gracie #gracie abrams x you #gracie abrams and you #gracie abrams x reader #gracie abrams #reganwasacarpenterfics #wlw #pop music #pop #fem!reader

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itsthatmff · 1 year ago

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Boyfriend Headcanons on OPM men

100 follower special!! I didn’t know what situation to take so I just went with regular boyfriend headcanons

I have no idea Why Genos’ part turned out the longest…(my hyperfixation is obviously showing)

Fem!reader

Included: metal bat, Genos, Garou

Genos

It’ll take a while for this guy to get warmed up to you. He has never been in a relationship so he doesn’t really know how it works. This guy has ISSUES alright.

Of course he loves you but he doesn’t know how to deal with these feelings.

Hates physical affection (again just has to get used to it) so often more than not this guy won’t let you touch him affectionately.

“Do not touch me” and “Get off.” Are probably the words you’ve heard most this year.

Though when it does come to touching (pun intended) moments between the two of you, like when you’re hugging or kissing, he longs for more. He likes the feeling so much but would never admit it to you because he doesn’t want to show any ‘weakness’.

Will never make the first move of touching you. But if you ask twice he won’t say no. He just can’t resist you.

When it comes to caring for you he goes all out. Will cook for you, buy you things, even clean your apartment without you asking.

Is also very clingy in a sense that he doesn’t leave you alone. Ever since he fell in love with you you’ve become one of his priorities. You’re working ? He’ll accompany you. Meeting with friends? He has to make sure you won’t get attacked. You’re resting in your apartment? He’ll come over to cook you food.

It makes you feel bad that he suddenly has all his attention on you instead of focusing on training under Saitama and finding the mad cyborg. That goal has been there for him way before you both knew each other after all.

You both may get into little fights because of that.

When it comes to jealousy, this guy gets jealous alright. If he sees you talking to male coworkers/friends he always watches from the distance and furrows his eyebrows. Won’t say anything though.

If there’s a guy harassing you he’ll step in. That guy might get away with no more than a broken hand. Genos says it wasn’t on purpose and that he just wanted to get his hand away from you. (It was VERY MUCH on purpose)

Will deny that he’s jealous until his death. Again he doesn’t want to show ‘weakness’.

Is so protective of you. This guy already has a big sense of justice and will literally self destruct if that means saving human lives. He wouldn’t hesitate to take a bullet for you.

Whenever you’re not around you’re still in his thoughts. When you don’t have time for him he’ll keep himself busy by cleaning saitama’s apartment.

Will go on Saitama’s nerves and talk about you with no end. Will ask for advice. Sometimes he talks too much about you and gets kicked out of saitama’s apartment.

He’s such a dry texter. But dry as in texting paragraphs of formal written texts. That’s why you both prefer calling. He calls you at least once a day just asking how you’re doing. They’re not very long calls. Most of the time they’re short ones where he’ll ask you where you are and if you’re free so that he can come over.

Is overall the most loving cyborg you can get. He just doesn’t like to admit it. The most you’ll get from him if you ask him why he’s calling you on a regular for example is :

“It is my duty as your boyfriend to care for you at all times.”

Extremely difficult to get him to say ‘I love you’ by his own accord. But keep trying !!

Garou

So cocky for no reason whatsoever

Sometimes it feels like you’re dating a dog more than a human.

He’s SO SO SO SO touchy It’s unbelievable. He can’t take his hands off of you. Especially in public. He just needs to show you off.

This guy doesn’t know what having shame is either.

In some sense he feels like he ‘owns’ you.

Unlike Genos he may not spend every second around you but whenever he does it’s either him being all over you or you two bickering.

He may be touchy but is not a romantic at all. He’d rather say “you’re mine” than “I love you”

His love is messy for sure. Like all over the place.

Gets jealous and will beat the shit out of whoever dared to cross your way.

I have a feel he likes biting. Not too hard but more in an affectionate way.

Doesn’t really know what taking you out on a date means. He’ll let you do all the planning and deciding. He genuinely doesn’t care as long as he’s spending his time with you.

If bang knows about your relationship he’ll push him to treat you well. Bang was surrounded by women left and right during his youth and knows his way around it after all. Often Garou will gift you things as roses because ‘the old man forced me to’. He’ll look unbothered but in truth there is a tiny hint of blush on his face.

This guy doesn’t even have a phone 90% of the time. He either looses it or breaks it. You both don’t really need phones to communicate. The moment you think about him he’s right by your side.

Metal bat

Most wholesome boyfriend.

Acts all tough around everyone except you.

The embodiment of “ay ay ma’am”

Whenever you’re both on a date and a Monster attack breaks out he tries playing the tough hero. “Get behind me. I’ll deal with it.”

He’s kind of shy when it comes to touching you. He doesn’t want to be to rough or do something you don’t like. When you go to hug him his entire face turns red.

Genuinely thinks you’re an angel and that you’re too good for him.

At school all he thinks about is you. Will beat his friends up if they make fun of him for that.

Takes you out on many dates. Will buy you bouquets or win you plushies at the arcade. Sometimes he’ll even take you and Zenko out on lunch. It’ll be the cutest thing ever seeing you interact with his little sister.

At first Zenko is a bit jealous that her big brother is giving someone else attention other than herself but she quickly gets used to you and sees you as her own big sis.

He’ll text you good night and apologizes if he forgets to.

Will always ask you if you’ve eaten and make sure you’re always well fed and rested.

Always buys you things that remind him of you during his Hero patrol.

You gifted him a phone charm once and he has not took it off his phone ever since.

He isn’t the type to say ‘I love you’ often. He leaves it for really special moments because he thinks they’re very important words.

#one punch man #garou #genos x reader #headcanons #garou opm #garou x reader #genos #genos one punch man #opm genos #genos x y/n #metal bat x y/n #metal bat #metal bat x reader #my Genos hyperfixation is showing

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sweetiebarnes · 1 year ago

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Twisted Pairing: Step Dad!Lloyd Hansen x Step Daughter!Reader

Word Count: 600+

Warnings: stepcest, voyeurism, female masturbation, nudity, implied future anal, minor daddy kink, dubcon/noncon if you squint, reader is early twenties, age gap.

Request: Lloyd Hansen, Step Dad, “What’s the matter? You’re acting like you’ve never seen a naked man before.”, and anal. Requested by: anonymous

A/N: I'm sorry I've been so slow with writing these. January has proven to be much more difficult than I had anticipated. I promise the stories are coming, and I am looking forward to doing your requests. This isn't my best work, but I still had fun writing it. It has not been beta read, so any mistakes are my own. As always my work is intended for adult audiences so 18+ only! Minors DNI. Pay attention to all tags and warnings. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

Writing Event Masterlist (still in the works)

From the first time Lloyd saw you he knew he needed to have you. That’s the thing about Lloyd Hansen, he always gets what he wants. He’d only married your mother because of the connections she provided. With her he’d be able to spread his business out throughout the country. What he hadn’t expected was the delicious present she had been hiding.

Tonight your mother was out with friends from college. Lloyd knew this was the perfect opportunity to get what he’d been craving. You. He could picture you up in your bedroom reading one of your countless books. It was cute how you always seemed to find ways to avoid him. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, he knew you felt something too. There was a magnetic pull between the two of you, and tonight would be the night he finally gets what he’s needed.

Lloyd makes his way up the stairs and stops outside your bedroom door. He’d expected to hear nothing, but instead he could hear what sounded like quiet whimpers. His eyes flutter shut as he leans in closer hoping to be able to hear you better. “Oh… Oh fuck, Lloyd.” There was no denying what he heard that time. You were in there touching what belonged to him. Without giving it a second thought, Lloyd quickly began to undress himself. This hadn’t been how he planned to do this, but when the opportunity presents itself how could he say no?

Once undressed, Lloyd opens your door. It takes you a moment to realize he’s standing there, and boy was he thankful for that. For that meant he was able to get a full spread eagle view of your soaked cunt. He watched as your finger meticulously rubbed your clit. The little moans that left your mouth were like music to his ears. It was when he let out a small grunt of approval that your eyes finally opened.

The look of embarrassment washed over your face. But that look quickly turned into confusion and horror when you spotted that he was naked. Your eyes traveled down to his hard cock which was now between his large hand. Lloyd’s smirk grew when he saw that your eyes appeared to be glued on him. “What’s the matter? You’re acting like you’ve never seen a naked man before.” His eyes never once leave yours as he slowly strides across your bedroom. “Oh come on, sunshine. We both know what you were just doing — who you were thinking about. Come on, be a good girl, show me.”

The more he talked, the more your body seemed to tremble from nerves. “I - I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lloyd.” He rolls his eyes at your attempt to play dumb. He wasn’t going to allow you to continue your charade of being so called innocent. “You really want to play that game? Fine, show me. Prove to me that you’re not soaked right now. Because you and I both know that your little pussy is dripping for me. Dripping for your step-daddy.” His words cause a small to leave your lips.

Maybe just this once you can give into your desires. Maybe just this once you can be bad.

Lloyd could hear a semblance of a plea when he watched you lay back on your bed. Your legs spread wide, inviting him to come give you both what you need. But Lloyd lets out a small tut and shakes his head. “Sorry, sunshine. That pussy isn’t what I’m interested in right now. I’d rather fuck your untouched hole. Turn around now.”

#vellicores writing event #lloyd hansen #step dad lloyd hansen #step dad!lloyd hansen #stepdad!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #lloyd hansen ficlet #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen drabble #chris evans #the gray man

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grandline-fics · 8 months ago

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Forget-Me-Not

DESCRIPTION: Sometimes things happen beyond our control. After an accident occurs your relationship with Zoro is turned on its head and changed forever.

WARNINGS: no angst in this one, mostly fluff

CHARACTERS: Zoro

WORDS: 2,588

A/N: This one was more on the slower side but things are developing and I hope this chapter was still enjoyable for you all

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

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Zoro was trying to not read too much into things but he couldn’t help it. Yes he kissed you back because of a moment of pure weakness and selfishness on his part but he still had no clear answer about why you initiated it in the first place. Had it been as you said? That you truly didn’t know the driving force of your actions. Or could it have been a case of some of your memories beginning to trickle to the surface? Instinct taking over whenever you finally felt his touch winning out over your current state of rationality that your amnesia brought. He’d spent most of the afternoon training, pushing himself harder than normal just to take his mind off of it all. He only stopped when he noticed how dark it was getting and knew you needed to eat.

When he knocked at the door to the medical room he waited for you to answer. In the short time he stood there he still couldn’t get used to the fact that this was where he had to go to find you. It felt wrong, it was the main reason he couldn’t sleep restfully anymore. His body had gotten so used to having you beside him night after night for so long that the abrupt change of sleeping on his own again had completely thrown him and not even his intense training and sheer stubbornness was enough to help him find peaceful sleep. Zoro was brought out of his thoughts when the door slowly opened and he met your face coming into view. He knew that initial hazy expression well, you’d been sleeping and then he felt a small sense of pride to see the look of appreciation slip in when you looked him over. In a way it was reassuring to see that even with your memories gone, your physical attraction to him was still there.

Quickly he focused to discuss organising dinner with you seeing as the others still hadn’t returned to the Sunny. It wasn’t strange for long trips on a new island, and coupled with the fact he knew everyone intended to drag out their time before returning to the ship so you and he would be completely alone it was likely no one would return until late that night. Once he agreed to meet you in the kitchen, he turned and headed for the washroom to shower as quickly as he could. He wasn’t a great cook by any means but he didn’t want all of the work to go to you. After he was washed and changed into fresher clothes he walked into the kitchen to the smell of food already cooking on the stove. At the sound of Zoro’s approach you turned and gave him a small smile. “Good news is Sanji left stuff already prepared for us to make dinner. Guess he didn’t trust us to fend for ourselves.”

“More like he thought I’d destroy his precious kitchen.” Zoro muttered, feeling that the stupid cook had done this to gain a point against him. To show off his fancy cooking skills even when he wasn’t here.

“Who’s to say I’m not capable of burning the kitchen down?” You asked playfully before turning to stir the food simmering on the stove. “It could be me he doesn’t trust.”

“For one you’re a good cook and two even if you weren’t that moron would forgive you for anything.” Zoro shrugged and stepped further into the room taking charge of the vegetables on the chopping board that needed cut.

Together you both cooked in content silence, the first real sense of calm settling between you both since the day you woke from your accident. In a way you were glad of nearly falling down the steps and the inexplicable and heavily inappropriate kiss you both shared because it seemed to help get some of the tension out of you both enough to make things bearable. Also the memory you had while you slept also helped settle some of your previous animosity towards the swordsman. Knowing that you had been a part of the crew and that you cared enough to tend to his wounds had only proved what they’d told you from the beginning; you were a pirate like them. You’d joined them, you were a friend. Cautiously you cast a quick glance at Zoro, more than a friend it seemed with him.

You remembered his defiance to tell you anything just this morning unless you genuinely wanted to know and would listen. Were you ready now? If you were asking that then the answer was probably no. You considered that if you’d had one of your memories come back on their own then perhaps the others would too without outside influence of the others telling you the stories. You jumped when Zoro’s hand touched your shoulder and looked at him, snapping out of your daze. Anxiously you lowered the flame to stop the food from burning in time. Nervously you laughed. “See? Told you it was me that could burn everything.”

“You okay?” Zoro asked, studying you carefully. It was hard to know what was stepping too close to the line or pushing past what you were comfortable with now. If it was still the you that had all of your memories he would have known to ask what was on your mind, able to see for sure that something was heavy in your thoughts, pulling your focus. Now? He had to be gentler than he wanted to be, a simple question without being direct. It was rare for him to have this approach since he favoured the swift and direct method. Zoro lifted his hand away from your shoulder when he realised he’d been touching you all this time.

The second his hand lifted your eyes flickered to the shoulder, registering the lack of warmth that the momentary touch had brought. Quickly you pushed back the way your body wanted to lean into his hold. You nodded and to Zoro’s question and forced a small smile. “Yeah, sorry. Just daydreaming…”

“About anything in particular?”

“Nothing really.” You mumbled, lifting the spoon to your lips to test if the food needed salvaging after nearly burning it. It was good but it still needed something. “Just letting my mind wander…” Zoro stepped back to let you walked around the kitchen with purpose. You opened one of the cabinets and lifted a small unlabelled jar before returning to the stove. With precision you sprinkled some of the contents into the food and stirred. You took a taste and smiled in satisfaction. Lifting another spoon you took a small helping and offered it to Zoro who was staring at you evenly. “Try.”

Zoro hesitated for a second but took the spoon from your hand to taste the food. Delicious as he knew it would be. “It’s great.” He told you, turning away sharply to grab the plates. “Always is.”

“Good to know but what’s wrong?” You asked, serving out his portion and then your own and took a seat at the table, watching Zoro steadily as he took the spot opposite you. “What did I do?”

“The seasoning.” Zoro finally admitted. “You went straight for it even though you haven’t cooked since waking. You knew where it was and what it was for even though it wasn’t labelled.”

“Oh…” You glanced at the jar on the counter only now seeing how strange it was. “I didn’t even realise. What is it anyway?”

“Something you found way back for me when the stupid cook’s dishes are too sweet.” Zoro explained with a small smile at the memory that he quickly hid by shoving food into his mouth. Even telling you that much felt like he was pushing too much, like he was influencing your thoughts even if it was the truth. He wasn’t going to lie but he felt a small sense of hope when he saw you immediately take the jar. Like it was a sign something was beginning to shake loose in your mind. It was an insignificant thing but he would take it. Now he worried when you were quiet. “Sorry.”

“Why’re you apologising? It’s the truth right?” You shrugged lightly, it wasn’t something Zoro needed to say sorry for. “Sanji does like to favour sweetness, doesn’t he?”

“Think he does it on purpose sometimes with my food. Dumbass.” Zoro conceded with a small laugh, glad for the slight diversion from the conversation. You bit back your own grin in an attempt to hide it but failed.

“Oh come on, you’d be bored if he wasn’t here to argue with.” Zoro rolled his good eye at your teasing and pointed his fork at your food.

"Just hush and eat before it gets cold.”

When the meal was finished and everything cleaned, you joined Zoro in the Crow’s Nest. With just the two of you on the ship it would mean the watch would be shared between you both until any of the others decided to come back. As you took your seat you looked out the window at the bright lights of the large cityscape on the island, your thumb lightly running along your bottom lip as your mind began to drift again. “They'll be fine. We haven’t heard fighting or Marine alerts yet so they’re actually behaving for once.”

You looked over to where Zoro stood, leaning against the large pane of glass instead of sitting anywhere near you. Deep down you knew he spoke the truth, Luffy’s overwhelming excitement and boundless energy would mean that he was just as loud and obvious when fighting. If the city was calm then you didn’t need to worry about your crew. Quickly you tensed at how you considered them ‘yours’ now instead of just ‘the crew.’ That memory you experienced had affected you more than you initially realised. Your attention was grabbed when you heard Zoro hold back a deep breath, you narrowed your eyes slightly in keen scrutiny. He was holding back a yawn, a real one and not that pretend one he’d made earlier when he claimed he was going to nap. “Lie down and sleep Zoro. I'll take first watch.”

“I’m fine.”

“Again with the stubbornness?” You asked accusingly and gestured to the countless seats he could lie down on. “Just lie down okay? I slept earlier. I promise I’ll wake you when I start to feel sleepy.” Zoro stared at you hard and you refused to back down. “Please.”

Zoro swallowed hard and slowly shook his head, for a moment you were ready to insist again but instead anything you were prepared to shout at him stopped in your throat when he pushed away from the wall with a huff and trudged to the closest section of seats and lay down on his back, tucking his hands behind his head lazily. He would pretend to sleep to keep you happy. At the sound of movement, Zoro cracked his good eye open and frowned warily when you moved to sit closer to his head. You still kept some distance but were within touching distance now. “You look like a deep sleeper, have to be closer to shake you awake if I need to.”

Zoro hesitated at your willingness to be closer in proximity to him but again that selfish weakness that he had when it came to you was creeping back. He’d take anything he could get. Even if it was small, even if it meant that when you returned home like you planned to and even if it meant he’d hurt even more he would gladly accept it all, just for a little bit more of you. His eye closed again as he allowed another yawn to build in his chest and this time let it out. You watched Zoro carefully, unable to stop your small smile to see him give in and sleep. Perhaps now Chopper would be less concerned now that the swordsman would be more rested.

As you stared out the window you absently let your hand settle into Zoro’s hair, unaware you'd done it at first until you felt him lean into your touch in his sleep. When you looked down again and saw the calm in Zoro’s expression your heart fluttered slightly and you couldn’t bring yourself to pull your hand back. He looked as though some weight he’d been holding had lifted now that he was sleeping and relaxed. You bit your lower lip and quickly looked towards the window again to keep watch while your fingers gently continued to move against Zoro’s hair, occasionally massaging against his scalp in between your slow movements.

It wasn’t long before you noticed movement and the clear outline of people approaching the Sunny. Thanks to the bright moonlight you could see Luffy and the others had returned. Knowing you didn’t need to wake Zoro you carefully moved your hand away from his head and quietly descended the ladder to greet the group as they climbed aboard. “Nice day?”

“Yeah, the city’s great.” Nami answered first, her bright gaze drifting briefly up to the Crow’s Nest before returning her stare to you. “Lots to see and explore. Can’t wait to go back for more shopping.”

“There’s time to go back?” You asked, glancing behind her shoulder to see Sanji skipping on board with a mountain of shopping bags in his arms. Obviously this was the result of Nami’s shopping trip but you noticed a few bookstore bags in his hold too that belonged to Robin. Franky, Usopp, and Chopper carried crates of ship supplies on board and smiled to you in greeting before disappearing to unload what they’d bought.

“Well yeah…that’s kinda the bad news. For you I suppose.” The navigator broached the subject delicately. “Log pose will take three weeks to set. I’m sorry it’s not sooner than you’d like but it just means we can gather as much to stock the ship for the long journey back to your island. I hope you’re not mad.”

“Oh well it can’t be helped, right?” You asked with a small laugh, surprising Nami. All day she’d been expecting your annoyance and wish to just get home the second they had enough supplies to last them the trip back. “Well I’ll go wake Zoro. It’s Luffy’s turn for watch right?” You asked with a nervous smile before turning to go up to the Crow’s Nest while Luffy bounced happily behind you, telling you about the things he’d seen on the island and in the city.

Nami stared at you curiously as you left. Did you seem happy that you were here a little longer? She knew better than to ask outright or let on that she suspected a change in you, but she was going to watch you a lot closer now. While she was desperate to know what happened between you and Zoro while you were alone all day she had to restrain herself. Three weeks was a long time and she was certain that there was going to be a lot more to come. She let out an amused hum as she watched you and Luffy appear in the window of the Crow’s Nest, waking Zoro. At the same time Robin stepped beside her. “Three weeks, hm? I could have sworn that store owner told you and I the pose would set in three days.”

“Well what the others don’t know, won’t hurt them. Right?”

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tacobacoyeet · 10 months ago

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pleaseee right more harry fluff!! heres a list of ideas i have, ofc if you don’t want to you don’t have to!!

-bf headcanons

-sfw alphabet

-him during umbridge detention and she like makes him watch y/n do the quill

-something going along to the song slut! by taylor swift ❤️❤️

and ofc js anything is fine😭

good harry writing is hard to find on this app

slut! | harry potter x reader

a/n: a short and sweet little fic based off of my interpretation of slut! by taylor swift. it might be a tad too on the nose but @ssturniolo92 i hope i did your request justice!

warnings: there are a lot of different harry personalities across tumblr- this is my interpretation of him. cursing, harry james potter being just the best as always, a touch angsty, NOT PROOFREAD!

beautiful hues of gold, white, silver, and all sorts of colors were the first things that caught your attention as you stepped into the yule ball. your hand held harry’s arm as your heels clicked on the floor. you were dressed in a beautiful aquamarine gown, which glittered in the candlelight of the stunningly decorated ballroom. the chatter in the room grew quiet as everyone’s stares locked on you and your boyfriend… the coveted hogwarts triwizard champion. there was not much time for you to survey the room before professor mcgonagall steered you and harry off for the champion’s waltz, but it was enough time for your ears to catch the whispers. whispers of how harry looked ‘absolutely ravishing,’ how your dress was ‘...certainly a choice,’ and whispers of how you were probably only ‘using harry… what a slut!’ you sighed deeply, forcing yourself to stand tall as the two of you took to the dance floor.

“look at me,” he whispered, forcing you to meet his eyes as he guided you around the dance floor.

“it’s just you and me.”

you smiled weakly at him. what else could you do? a gaggle of girls nearby whispered loudly about what they would’ve done to be on harry’s arm for the night.

“god, he’s just devastatingly handsome, isn’t he?” one of them asked, eliciting a cacophony of giggles.

he sighed softly, taking notice of the thin layer of tears in your eyes. suddenly, he pulled you close, into his chest.

“i’m all yours.”

a little later in the evening, you found yourself several drinks in, a soft buzz coursing through your body as you people-watched, but all you could think about was how much you loved your boyfriend. you’d been dating for almost a year now, and the two of you truly couldn’t get enough of each other. when he first asked you out, you told him he was making a mistake.

“dating someone like me is going to blow up in your face, harry! people like you don’t date people like me.”

he never took that as an answer, though. and to be fair, it didn’t exactly blow up in his face as much as it had in yours. the whispers, the rumors, they were all an attack on you. but that was a price you were willing to pay for the man you loved to never pay it himself- but that was just because he was the boy who lived.

your thoughts ran rampant as the alcohol flowed through your body, leaving a fire in its wake. you glinted your eyes as you surveyed the room. you’d cry about the people that hated you later. right now? you looked fine as hell, and you intended to do something about it.

it wasn’t long until you had found harry and planted a deep, long kiss on his lips.

“what was that for?” he asked, a small smirk on his lips.

“i got all dressed up and i look amazing. i don’t care what people are saying about me, or you, or us, because they’re looking at us and how great we look and that’s all that fucking matters.” you slurred ever so slightly, a determined smile on your face.

“you’re drunk as hell, gorgeous.” harry laughs softly, his hand softly caressing your cheek.

“and i love you so. damn. much.”

you spent the rest of the ball in his arms, in the center of the dance floor, much to harry’s happiness. he loved showing off his partner, but he cared about your feelings more than anything, so he never wanted to do anything that would shine the spotlight on you too much, as he knew that most of the time, the words of others really did impact you.

a few hours later, he held your hair back as you knelt over a toilet, the alcohol you boldly downed earlier making its way back up.

“is it really worth it to get this drunk, love?” he smiled softly at you, planting a kiss on your head as he rubbed your back.

“for once?” you started, “it was. and if i’m going to be drunk… i might as well be drunk in love.”

#a writes #harry potter #hogwarts #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter fluff #harry potter angst #harry james potter #harry james potter fluff #harry james potter x reader #harry james potter angst #taylor swift #1989 tv

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chaotic-minds-think-alike · 2 years ago

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Guess what time it is…….

CENTIPEDE TIME !!! she’s finally real,,,,,,,, based off Scolopendra hardwickei or the Indian tiger centipede

Before I go about the process I just want to say you guys have been soooo incredible and I love reading your reblogs and I love the idea knowing I’ve inspired a lot of people,,, the project, although it was a lot of work and I’m feeling not so great as of posting this, still motivates me to want to make another.

(Art process below)

This was entirely freehanded! I have a lot of experience working in 3D art settings that this part came easy to me but I started with a flat base shaped in the pose I’d like the creature in. I used one whole piece cut from a shipping box and filled in the gaps with tape; you don’t need a single piece for the base but for structural integrity it helps a lot. As you can see here I also cut the legs separate and glued them on using hot glue. The vertical cross sections are to give an early support for the structure of the creature, think about the frames of aircraft or boats. During this part I used a pen to mark the width and height of the previous section to get a gradual flow of shapes.

This next part I wish I got more documentation on but after the vertical cross sections I used soda boxes for the thinner and flexible cardboard to add contour lines along the length of the creature, gluing them on the cross sections. I did about 2 strips of this on either side to fill in the space and then I continued to use soda boxes to fold and shape the top of the creature, gluing onto the strips rather than the cross sections (this part was a mistake but I quickly adapted, no issues happened but it did make it slightly less secure). I also gave the legs vertical cross sections as well to shape them for the masking tape.

The worst part, taping everything. I used tape to further shape it how I wanted but that meant going over parts several times. I used 2 different widths of tape for this for efficiency but it doesn’t matter. The legs were very loosely taped and if squeezed then they’d lose their shape; I didn’t bother filling them in because I don’t have materials for that and I let the paper mache help support them instead. Tape was also used to fill any holes and gaps left by the cardboard skeleton.

The next phase is paper mache of which I haven’t done since 5th grade… I was not confident in this step. I used mod podge and a brush to smooth down the paper. Because I lacked materials I used fast food napkins instead of newspaper which worked totally fine, it just tended to tear a bit easier. Some areas required me to get hands on and I don’t really like the texture during this stage so that was fun (lie). I didn’t do too many layers, one for the body and 3 for the back and legs but some projects might demand more. I used half of a 16oz bottle of mod podge btw so please get more than you think you need.

Finally, texture hell!!! I did a base coat of white spray paint and painted everything else with acrylic. Start with your lighter colors first before doing darker ones! I originally mixed some yellow and orange for the body and realized it was too bright and so covered it with orange instead. It also wasn’t until later I realized I could’ve been smarter with my paint so I skipped over the segments that were going to be fully black, saving the orange for the rest of the body. I wanted my centipede to stand out and not look 2D color-wise so I also used the red for the head and tail to give gradients and edges to the orange segments and legs, later going back with burgundy to further darken them but not too much. For the black segments I also used a very watered down layer of sky blue to give a fake shine and show the intended structure of the segments. Do not be afraid to use your hands! I used mine to smudge my detail paints like the black fade on the legs and the back shading. To top it all off I sprayed a clear coat and punched two holes in the underside to hang it up, using thumbtacks angled upwards.

#myart #bug #insect #bugs #insects #centipede #centipedes #sculpture

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atxxzist · 1 year ago

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sweetest lies | c.s (03)

prev // next // series m.list

pairing: choi san x f!reader

word count: 7.7k

warning: none but lmk

you didn't want to go home because you knew that you'd have to face your sister.

look her in the eyes and see those very lips that yunho kissed and those hands that he probably held on more than one occasions, the wound still too fresh that it all still hurts.

but you didn't think you'd run smack into her before you could even pass the entrance, stopping in your steps immediately with surprised eyes similar to hers, the both of you swallowing down the same time as the air turn an awkward one.

you're about to just walk past her, the day from work leaving you tired and not in the mood for another long conversation about the topic, when your sister musters up the courage to let out a soft, "can we please talk?"

the tone aggravating you more than anything; how she can still sound so sweet and worried after what she's put you through.

you huff and merely roll your eyes, absolutely refusing to look at her although you know it's silly and petty--you being the older one but holding a grudge like no other, so much more less mature than her.

"i don't know what else is there to talk about," you respond, trying your very best to sound annoyed.

but she continues to make you feel worse with an even sweeter tone, "i'm sorry. i really am." and you can already picture the pearls in her eyes and pout on her lips despite still facing the other way.

"i know you like yunho. i do. but..." he's too handsome and charming; too sweet and kind that she also can't help but fall for him. she would never intend to steal him from you if he didn't return the sentiment.

"but he likes you too," you finish for her, something shifting in you that makes you finally look her in the eyes. "i get it. what am i gonna do? you're two grown consenting adults so i'll get over it."

you didn't even think such words could ever come out your mouth, but for the first time sounding surprisingly selfless because maybe talking to san did helped out a little.

there's a silence after that you're sure has marked the end of the topic, striving a step forward when her voice stops you again.

"we're planning on telling mom and dad and yunho's parents over dinner..." she says, delivery timid like she's just the slightest scared of your reaction.

you gulp down the knot, mumbling a dry, "good luck with that." and sliding past her.

you start seeing how truly mundane your life is once the person it used to revolve around is no longer there.

how, it’s a continuous cycle of work and coming home to a big empty house most days and watching reruns of shows until you’re bored out of your mind.

which is how you wind up at a co-worker’s house party, the young woman from the office next to you going by the name of dahyun kindly asking after a conversation with your boss about the paperworks regarding the transfer.

she joined the firm a few months after you but you’ve always known her to be outgoing and a people’s person, recalling the girl’s familiarity with everyone from the floor her second week of work.

it wasn’t like you had anything better to do, so you accepted the invitation and saved the following day for a night of fun, or at least you hoped so.

dahyun had said it’s just gonna be a regular house party; none of that crazy frat bullshit with the chance of someone under 20 attending, so it’s just gonna be chill and relaxing.

fives minutes into your arrival and it’s not too bad but you already find yourself hiding in a corner despite recognizing a few faces from the same working floor.

“if you’re gonna be here, you should at least try and have some fun.”

the familiar sounding voice from behind makes you quirk a brow, barely looking over your shoulder to see, probably the least expected person standing with amusement in his expression.

“seonghwa?” you say in disbelief, your body naturally following your curiosity to stand before him. “the fuck you doing here?”

“attending the party, isn’t that obvious?” he quips, continuing to close the gap before stopping with just enough space.

you scoff and roll your eyes, the sight bringing a smirk onto seonghwa’s lips.

“shut up. you know what i mean.”

“dahyun’s a friend,” he says casually, the answer making you squint.

“seriously? hongjoong and now you?” the complaint rolling off like it’s seonghwa’s fault. you can only cross your arms and sulk.

you can’t even recall the last time you actually saw seonghwa. it must’ve been your graduation or one last coincidental meeting… you don’t remember. it’s been that long.

“yeah, cause you have better things to do?” he pokes fun at the very obvious fact you came alone. “where’s that jeong boy? you know, the one that always got you on a leash.”

between hongjoong and seonghwa, seonghwa’s always been the more calm and level-headed of the two; being the voice of reason when you and hongjoong would lose it.

but on the occasion when he’d just let it go and be snarky, seonghwa could really pull a nerve.

“is that all people associate me with?” you have the audacity to click your tongue in annoyance and scoff like you didn’t do it to yourself.

seonghwa snickers.

“oh i’m sorry. it was just my most recent memory of you,” he says cheekily. voice calm but you know there’s hidden animosity underneath.

he never explicitly said whose side he took, but it was obvious from how he treated you the same as hongjoong did. it only made sense because they’ve known each other before you even came along.

you never fault him, knowing it mostly had to do with your own fuck-ups.

“hmm,” you hum, tone setting into the same sarcastic and dry one he has. “well, it’s nice catching up and all but i don't feel like reminiscing the past, so if you’ll excuse me.”

because you can admit your wrongdoings and also be both embarrassed about it, attempting to brush past him when his speaking voice stops you in track.

“hey, i was just trying to find something to talk about after all these years,” he says, half chuckling and staring at you from the opposite side now that you’ve managed to make it past him.

you snicker lowly.

“what?” you quirk a corner of your lips, continuing with amusement in your voice, “then you’re gonna say sorry? or expect me to?”

he shrugs.

"that's your choice."

but his body language now shifting, that playful look no longer in his eyes or tone, it's almost scary how fast it happened.

the next few seconds is a silent stare off, the only sound is the party music in the background and the slight beating of your heart at the ominous delivery.

"i'm not asking for an apology or whatever. frankly, it wasn't even my problem, but i'm just saying... your life would be a lot easier if you know how to say sorry for once."

seonghwa thinks you have too much pride; the same thing you believe to be keeping you intact is gonna be your ultimate downfall because even when you're clearly wrong or you know you're wrong, you never say it.

you're one to keep it bubbled inside and carry the guilt just because you think you should be unbreakable at all times. it's such an unrealistic standard you've set for yourself.

you raise a brow at that, tilting your head in confusion.

"i know how to say sorry," you tell him sternly, attempting to convince him as much as you are to yourself.

“i’m uhm… i’m sorry,” you utter lowly, sounding and appearing ashamed by the way your fingers fiddle with each other at your front, san almost can’t believe it.

“pardon?”

“i’m sorry, about this morning.”

it's beyond comprehension how san must've been the first person you've genuinely apologized to after going so many years of the word kept to yourself.

it must've been the absolute humiliation and loneliness that day that really got to you, breaking you down until you were so vulnerable with nothing but the choice to fold in front of the one person you felt you could still confide in.

san being that person is also beyond what you can explain.

but seonghwa only merely puffs and crosses his arms.

"i just think it would be great if we could be friends again one day," he says, the ominous dropping and voice turning soft and reminiscing again that it makes your eyes go wide before you see a smile turn up on his lips.

"if you ever want to reach out to me or hongjoong again, you know how to find us."

he leaves his last words of the night opened and vague, disappearing off with one last smile before he's out of your sight, leaving you with much to think about--just exactly as he intended.

there's only so much excuses to make or places to be after work just because you don't want to be there for dinner, knowing it's the day both yunho and your sister are gonna tell your parents and his the good news.

know that they're all gonna react with surprise and be so happy for them, erupting in cheers and congratulatory words that the two children they've been rooting for the longest time has finally gotten together.

there really isn't a lot, that you just sucked it up and stayed the few extra hours overtime to make up for all the instances you've slacked off, even starting on work saved for the following day, hoping it's long enough to just miss the dinner.

and just enough it is, you return right as the table's just about to be cleared, the chitters and chatters around loud enough to drown the opening and shutting of the front door with yunho the only one catching your presence standing in the hall.

"they were really happy, yeah..." he says awkwardly, standing before you in the cold chilly air of the backyard.

you really didn't want to talk about it anymore, the subject like beating a dead horse at this point. but yunho had approached you so cautiously and calmly, something genuine in his action that you couldn't say no when he asked to talk for one last time.

"hmm," you merely hum, really not made for comforting or encouraging. most of the anger already dissipated although the hurt's still there, you can't bring yourself to not feel even the slightest happy for him, even if the smallest percentage because you saw the biggest smile ever on him back at dinner.

you contemplate on what to say because yes, you're still hurt and feeling betrayed, but it's not like you can hold it over his head forever. he isn't some stranger you can easily avoid.

he's yunho and you're just gonna have to get over it; not just for his sake but also for yours just so you can feel a little more at peace and move on.

"i'm sorry," he suddenly let out, your head snapping from the ground and to his guilt-ridden eyes.

because though he still stands by what he said, not a single word a lie, the few days apart also allowed him to think outside of the box--especially from your perspective.

how selfish he really was from the start, playing along when he was being dishonest the entire time, and how much pain he could've saved everyone if he hadn't been such a coward.

if he hadn't wanted the best of both worlds and knew he would lose you in some way if you found out how he actually feels.

you have to blink a few times, feeling like a lost puppy under yunho's apologetic gaze because you honestly believe that in comparison, you have so much more to be sorry for.

and as if he could read your mind; your expression speaking for itself because you have a certain look of bafflement or aloofness whenever you feel guilty.

you won't ever say outright that you're wrong, but your body language always gave it out.

it was one of the very first traits he picked up from being around you, having seen it for himself at the starting age of twelve when you pushed a much younger san to his injury and cried--not because you got yelled at by your parents but because you felt bad.

and how distracted you were at the movies the entire time after your fight with hongjoong because you confessed to yunho a few days later that you were being a shitty friend.

you have such a way of dealing with your emotions, he wishes for there to be an outlet for you to deal with them in a healthy and accepting manner.

one that doesn't depend on him or anything else for all the wrong reasons.

"i'm sorry," he says again, eyes now softer but still sincere. "i know i already said this last time but i really got carried away and couldn't finish. but i truly am sorry. i should've told you sooner. i should've never given you any sort of false hope, and i should've just been honest from the start."

he's sure he's out of breath when he finishes, just waiting for you to now say something in return because despite all the ups and downs and shortcomings, you're the one who's been with him through most of his lowest points and he's so grateful for that.

he wouldn't want to lose you over this.

you stay quiet for a few seconds more, a mental battle in your head just so you'll be able to form something coherent when you do speak.

"we both just weren't right for each other," you say, pausing briefly, "in that way... at least."

because yunho hid things from you and you were so in your head you were convinced he was in love with you at one point, always looking at everything through a rose-coloured glass but now able to see for yourself once it cracked, just how destined it was to fail from the start.

"sorry," he mumbles, low and head still hanging in shame, you can't help the dry chuckle that falls from your lips.

"you don't have to keep telling me you're sorry. like what i told minjeong: i'll get over it."

he picks his head up from the more cheery tone, the smallest smile forming on your lips that takes him by surprise because of the illusion it gives off; that you were able to come to terms with it so fast, but he knows you and knows it's all just a facade.

nonetheless, he nods, gulping silently to pass a comment.

"i hope you're taking care of yourself."

you smile, turning your back on him and crossing your arms to stare up into the stars in the nightsky who's currently the witness to the end of your 'relationship' with the boy you've loved your whole life.

"i've considered transferring work. it's not set in stone yet, but i did talked to my boss and he said he'd help me look for an opening if i'm interested."

you think it will be good if you can seek your own independence for once, unable to think of a better time than this one.

and though you can't see yunho, you can tell he's intrigued by how his question squeaks slightly when asking.

"where would you be transferring?"

"japan," you answer, once again facing him. "it's different, but close enough where i don't have to feel like i'm halfway across the world. my boss said i have about two months-ish to make up my mind."

plus, japanese is the only other language you're fluent in. the country a similar but new enough experience and the true testimony to how you'll be, away from the grasp of your parents.

"i see," yunho replies, nodding in understanding; so much to say but at the same time unable to say anything. he wouldn't ever want to hear someone he's close to plans on moving away, but he's almost proud of you for taking that next step.

"feel free to call me up any time if you need help," he adds, a soft smile gracing his features that makes the moment so bittersweet. you wish you have the guts to hate yunho, but you really can't after all he's done for you.

you nod lightly, at the same time allowing yourself to enjoy the breeze and calm silence before letting all your guards down.

"yunho..." you call his name almost timidly, the boy responding that immediate second.

"i'm not asking for an apology or whatever. frankly, it wasn't even my problem, but i'm just saying… your life would be a lot easier if you know how to say sorry for once."

"i'm sorry," you finally tell him, to wide and surprised eyes--unsurprisingly.

"i'm sorry for putting so much pressure and baggage on you. i also should've asked about your feelings from the very beginning. i shouldn't have just... assumed."

yunho knows it's the sincerest form of apology without the need to say a lot. from the nervous timbre to the guilt in your eyes, and even the way you start fiddling with your fingers.

he only snickers, much to your initial mixed reaction until you start warming up to it as well, the low but very real giggle leaving you putting a smile on yunho's face.

"apology accepted," he says.

you allow another giggle before cutting it short and looking at him through your blinking lashes.

"if you guys have went to this extent, then i hope you'll treat her right, jeong yunho."

you leave the night at that, a sting in your chest but you know that soon enough, you'll be relieved of it and you won't even think about him anymore.

it's after sitting down for a few minutes that you get a text from san, the funny coincidence that you were just talking about the transfer with your boss as well.

san: yunho told me

san: it's true you're gonna be leaving for japan?

you honestly can't recall how san even got your number. it must've been something you did drunkenly or he must've asked for it from yunho. but for sure, you did not give it to him willingly.

y/n: he really be snitching, huh

san: so it's true ☹️

you roll your eyes and try preventing even the smallest smirk. you haven't seen the man ever since that day and now is when he decides to reach out again.

y/n: maybe 🤷

san: 😔

san: just when we were starting to get along too

y/n: lol. you'll be fine.

shaking your head, you put your phone down to return to work, thinking to yourself there's no way san's actually serious because you're sure even if you did move halfway across the world, he would barely notice you're gone.

ten minutes of silence from your phone and you're also sure he's given up on the act--when your notification buzzes again.

san: ☹️ thought you weren't gonna run away

y/n: i'm not

y/n: i just want to do something different

san: if you say so

san: you free this evening?

y/n: i get off work in about 3 hours

san: wanna do something? 🙂

y/n: well aren't you a changed man 🙃

san: i thought it was nice the other day and i just figured you might need a distraction

you have to admit the fact you were taken aback a little; in a surprisingly good and touching way that san would care about you so much as to consider the after effect of what have happened.

y/n: if you're up for it 🤷 not like i have anything better after work

san: awesome! i'll see you then 😉

it's not everyday that you go waltzing into a guy's place; if at all, actually, because you've ever only graced the presence of the house next door because unlike san, yunho never had the urge to get his own place or be away from the watchful eyes of his parents.

it only takes two knocks in total for the door to come apart with san standing before it, a smile on his face and every body language welcoming.

"that was fast," you comment, walking past him to get inside.

"i was waiting," he says, calm and relaxed. "you took a lot longer than you said you would."

you shrug and plop yourself down on the couch, head snapping his way to reply.

"i had to get out of my work outfit."

he acknowledges it with a nod before seating himself next to you, his phone sitting on the coffee table in front of you gone unnoticed until you see him pick it up.

"what to order?" he scrolls through the delivery app, the same time you quirk a brow.

"stew sounds really good right now," you say.

"soft tofu stew?"

"that's fine. but make it spicy."

you weren't sure what you guys were gonna be doing once you came over, but he had just said to hang out and you thought any form of entertainment was better than none.

"any drinks?" he asks, after placing the order and getting up to walk over to the fridge.

"got any sodas?"

"i got some coke."

"that'll do."

he returns with two bottles, setting it on the table with a smirk stickered on his face, you have to reframe from rolling your eyes.

"what? no alcohol tonight?" he teases, his back falling onto the couch with hands behind his head.

"not in the mood," you reply, straight and simple.

"fair enough," he mumbles.

you let your eyes wander for a few more seconds before asking, "so, what's the plan?"

he gets up to sit straight and look you in the eyes.

"i was thinking a movie, video games, or we can just talk over food."

you hum with straighten lips, nodding and making yourself at home when it's your turn to fall back on the couch.

"anything's fine," you tell him, patting at the material under you and adding, "great couch by the way."

"yeah. it cost a fortune."

"good thing that wasn't a problem," you jab lightheartedly, because you always have wondered what the hell san does all day, besides the very obvious fact that he lives off the wealth of his parents and doesn't have to worry about anything when it comes to money... at least.

"i know what you're thinking," he says, not reactive of any kind.

"no but seriously, what do you do all day?" you ask, genuinely curious and interested this time.

he just quirks his lips, responding in the most lax tone, "enjoying life and doing what anyone in their 20s would?"

you scoff and shake your head.

you really do wish to be as untroubled and carefree as san is. the way he deals with and confronts everything as if there isn't a single thing to lose.

“it definitely bothered me at first, but i didn’t see why i should be losing sleep over it. me and yunho are two very different people after all who does our own things. i’m proud of what he’s achieved so far, and he’s always had my back when needed.”

you almost can't help but to have the tiniest respect for him in that regard.

"good to know." you giggle. "but what's the plan after?"

"working on it. but not really in the hurry to rush it or anything."

you nod courtly at that, another sinking thought about how similar, yet different the two of you really are.

growing up, you've never really paid much attention to san, always writing him off as annoying and obnoxious, but when left with no choice but to face him on a deeper level, you can't help but to notice the stark differences despite relating to him more than yunho.

"and you... are you really moving? like forreal?" he says, tone a soft worried that you almost want to believe he would be sad about you leaving... being this adamant and all.

"yeah," you answer, the disappointment befalling his expression completely flying over your radar. "forreal."

"but why?" he pushes.

you shrug, everything about you relaxed--as opposed to the boy standing across as he tries to digest the very big possibility of you going away, and most likely for a long time.

"i told you i wanted to travel."

"that's moving to a whole different country," he states the obvious, much to a laughter from you as the uneasiness on him only becomes more transparent.

you laugh some more, going on to say, "don't tell me you're actually gonna be sad?" your lips forming a frown after to tease him, and for the very first time, you think san might've blushed a little.

he opens his mouth as you watch curiously, but the moment shortly disrupted by the sound of san's phone going off.

"delivery will be here in 10 minutes," he tells you still holding the device in his hand before he tosses it aside.

"i also just want to try being on my own for a while," you bring the topic back into discussion when it seems like he isn't gonna answer the question.

you add, "if i do get moved, it will be on my own accord and everything will be from my own pockets... not my parents or anyone else. boss said i have about two months and i most likely will have to train the replacement but i think it's all gonna be worth it."

you're unable to read into san's reaction, silence filling the air until he finally speaks again.

"if you want to learn to be on your own, why don't you just get a place first? you know, instead of moving across the country. as someone in the current position, it's pretty nice if i say so myself."

your lips draw into a thin line, not because he's wrong but because you've never actually thought of that. you pretty much did just jumped ship into the next big step.

"i've uh... i didn't think of that," you mumble, the words cracking a smile on san's face before a snicker rolls out.

"jesus, y/n. a bit dramatic aren't you?"

"shut up," you hiss.

as the night goes on, any doubts and worries are long forgotten when the chatters with san would go on even after the food's arrival, both chewing and talking at the same time like you're never gonna run out of topics.

the eating soon turns into a search for something to watch while the two of you squabble about anything and everything, forgetting what the hell you're even fighting him about and being surprised you could even get this worked up without the help of alcohol.

and after you're both finally worn out from the long night; the foods on the coffee table now empty and dry and the tv running for far too long, you help clean the place up when it seems he's fallen asleep and quietly make your way out of the condo shortly after.

tuesday 4:32 p.m.

san: how about this one? looks really nice and is kind of close to my place 🙂

san: *attachment*

y/n: that looks way too fancy and expensive

y/n: i just want something that's enough for one person

it's impressive; the fact san even entertained the idea of leaving everything you've already got in mind to settle for something else, but even more so that you're even considering it.

getting a place of your own and learning to live on yourself would be a lot more doable than moving across the sea and away from everyone and everything you've grown up with.

you suppose it's not a bad idea. you're just not sure if it's the right one.

san: you're not gonna find anything if you're gonna be this picky 🙄

y/n: i'm just looking

y/n: if i'm really gonna stay, i'd do the search myself

san: 😢

you don't even realize how san starts weaving into your daily life and just integrating himself into it; whether through small, mindless texts, or bigger ones like actually inviting you out or over to his place (more frequently, at least).

wednesday 1:20 p.m.

san: what time do you finish work today

y/n: i always finish at 6

san: wanna come over? i got a game we can play 🙂

y/n: it better not that stupid truth or dare

san: ☹️

san: it's not

san: it's truth or dare spin the bottle

y/n: 🥱

san won't admit how fast he came at the sound of the first knock, and you also won't admit that despite him looking very much the same, there's something different about him lately.

something you can't pinpoint but it's almost as if he's gotten more attractive somehow even though you've never really cared about any of that.

"did you wear that to work?" he comments on your outfit as you make way past him and settling inside.

"yes," you answer dryly, tone soon overturning. "what? you think i was gonna get pretty?" you smirk.

he shrugs, mumbling a "maybe" that you quietly let pass to take off your shoes.

"wanna see a few places i've looked up?" he beams, going over to the laptop that was on the kitchen counter and running over to you on the couch with it.

"why not," you mumble, scooting closer, shoulder bumping into his nonchalantly.

you watch him scroll through the abundance of luxurious condos alike his, opting to raise your brow and turn to him.

"why are they all high-profile and in gangnam?" you question.

"pfft," he scoffs, facing you head on, standing the closest he's ever been to you in a long while and remarking, "it's not like you can't afford it. come on, y/n."

"i can't." you move away from him. "if i even get a place, it's gonna be with my own savings, not my parents. i definitely can't afford a place like these. can we please look at something a little less flashy?"

he shakes his head and eventually changes the area, but an hour into the search and you're still not satisfied. the prices are either not doable or the layouts and amenities aren't to your heart's content.

"let's continue this another day," you sigh out, throwing your head back and groaning as san chuckles.

"fine," he gives in, shutting the laptop and moving it out of sight. "you're so picky."

"well you got to be. i'm sure you didn't pick this place out in a day," you say at the same time you look around.

on your own, there's no way you'd ever be able to get anything like this.

"and you don't think it's nice?"

"are you kidding?" you say in disbelief. "it's amazing. if i had the money, it might as well be my dream place. but it's okay. i can also settle for much less as long as it accommodates all my needs."

san can't help but laugh, because he thinks you're both the snazziest person he's ever met, but also the most tame, it's a bit uncharacteristic of someone who grew up wealthy all her life.

"fair enough," he says, standing up abruptly to go grab at an empty beer bottle also on the counter which you're sure he most likely prepared for, given his next set of words.

"how about spin the bottle but no dares. we can only ask questions and the person has to answer truthfully." he places it on the coffee table.

you snap to him at that with something uneasy in your eyes, prompting a comment from him.

"you scared?" he tease.

"what? no," you blow.

"then what are we waiting for?" san doesn't hesitate with one of his hands already on the bottle but you have to stop him in the process to ask one more question.

"what kind of questions though?"

it takes him maybe a second for a light smirk to crawl out of him and with a shrug, telling you, "any."

you eye the bottle on the table anxiously as it circles and clinks; not afraid of the idea of the game but more so that you're playing with san and he's gonna ask the wildest shit.

fortunately, san shoots himself in the foot.

"oh fuck, it's me."

it's your turn to smirk, letting out an almost sarcastic, "yeah."

"knock yourself out. i'm an open book."

you roll your eyes because you know he is, which is why trying to come up with something that will even faze him is gonna be a challenge.

"most embarrassing thing you have done at a party?"

he scoffs it off in amusement, like he can't believe you're even asking that.

"i thought you could do worse, y/n. but sure."

he hesitates and hums for a few seconds more before answering, "got high as fuck and almost kissed wooyoung."

a dry snicker actually escapes from your lips at the confession.

"yeah i always suspected you guys had a thing for each other."

"please don't," he says in pure disgust. "i love wooyoung forreal but no amount of high can get me to kiss the man."

you laugh, now actually the one to initiate the spin because you think it can turn out fun. you think.

and thankfully, it's not you that have to answer a question, again.

"wow," san only silently curses the double misfortunate.

"how many people have you slept with?" you blurt, bold and straightforward, san even slightly taken aback.

"don't ask questions that will break your heart."

"tsk." you roll your eyes. "you could sleep with the entire population of earth and i wouldn't give a shit."

"not even the tiniest bit?" he plays on in that voice you hate because it's always when he's trying to flirt with you.

"i'd give the tiniest shit about everyone else because poor them."

"sharp," he retracts, the amusement all over his face. "but to answer your question, maybe eight? ten? to be honest, i've lost count."

"good to know," you reply nonchalantly, nodding for him to spin the bottle this time, but you know it's only so long before your luck eventually runs out, and so it does.

"ha," he says in victory, the top of the bottle pointing at you.

"i'll go easy, don't worry just yet," he teases annoyingly, you almost want to knock your foot into his.

"what did you think of me when we first met?"

you quirk your lips and pretend to think although you already know the answer.

"well, i thought you were gonna be sweet, but that was until i got to actually know you. then you were just annoying and a pervert."

he bursts out in genuine laughter and yeah, you think he's cute and endearing like this but 95% of the time, he's getting on your nerves.

the game continues on with a back and forth of innocent enough questions; just laughing and scoffing off the ridiculousness, and you're starting to think he might spare you, until the next one turns your eyes a dark one.

"what is it about yunho that made you like him so much?"

and again, you've already stated so many times why you like him. his kindness. his attitude. the way he presents himself. the way he treats you. but if you have to pick one.

"it just seems as if he accepted me for who i am. i don't know."

the way the atmosphere shifts is scary; both of the smiles on your lips wiped and replaced by unreadable expressions as san quiets without a reply, you have to be the one to speak again.

"and you... w-why are you helping me?" you ask him.

"huh?" he repeats just so there's no mistake.

"we don't even like each other and i pretty much treat you like shit but you still seem rather concerned about my wellbeing for whatever reason."

it has gotten so silent by now, you can hear san swallowing.

"you're the one who always says you don't like me. i never said i don't like you."

it's your turn to swallow, staring back at him with nervous eyes because you're not sure how to take the statement just now or what exactly he really means.

"i just thought the feeling was mutual," you mumble, shrugging lightly.

"no. i think you just didn't care enough to ask me," he says with a dry chuckle because he's right and even you know it. your mind at the time too occupied with his brother instead.

"so like, you really don't want me to leave?" you take the opportunity to tease him, a tone on you almost unrecognizable that you think even made san a bit nervous and shy.

"you could say that," he talks lowly, on the verge of stuttering. "i've known you almost my whole life."

"and if i did?" you ask, voice turning a more serious one as the words make an etch in san's heart. it hurts to even think of the possibility.

"then i would be really upset."

you watch his eyes and lips go soft, something so genuine and sincere in his response that makes you just freeze up before breaking the tension with a forced snicker.

"you still have some time to change my mind," you encourage, because you wish for there to be bigger reasons to stay so you won't regret the could of, even if san has to be that reason.

some might call it healing, some might call it a rebound if that even applies at all, but san successfully weaves himself into your life like a routine that you're no longer fazed by a morning text or even a goodnight one.

the way he'd just check up on you during work or call during the weekends to ask how you're doing and if you're up for something together.

it's a bit pathetic he's pretty much your only friend (and even that's a reach) at this point, but you genuinely enjoy his company.

he listens well, is fun to be around, and is almost like a life-long friend who's been missing your whole life.

but while those are the ups of being with san, there's also the downs--such as the long list of girls that'd constantly ring his phone or send him a text while the two of you are together, and while that isn't any of your business, that doesn't stop the few doubts that manages to plague your mind.

are you interrupting anything? does it make you a bitch for hanging with him when he has other girls lined up? does all of this even mean anything when you could very much just be one of them?

that maybe even if there's a possibility, you could never fully give and commit yourself to someone like san because it doesn't seem like he's ready to settle for anyone.

he haven't ever had a relationship that lasted more than a few months and you haven't ever known him to have less than two option on the table.

which might be why you were so much more attracted to yunho, because in comparison, yunho seemed like he would give away his heart and soul for just you.

but you know that, though. you knew that's how san is. you shouldn't have expected anything else, but you still can't help but to feel a strange, unfamiliar sense of loathing when he's distracted by another girl.

"i talked to the landlord a few days ago and she said if i wanted to see the apartment for myself, she would be more than happy to show me," you tell san over a late night eat out; the restaurant about to close in an hour but you're sure he's not listening because his head snaps to the text he got just now.

he still attempts to sound like it's the current topic holding his attention, which you have to give him credits for.

"that's good," he shortly says, fingers fast to type something on his phone before pushing it away. "so how many more days left again?"

"about two weeks, give or take," you respond, poking at your fries with the fork.

two weeks before you'll have to make the ultimate choice to leave or stay.

it's been that long, time just flying before your very eyes to the point where yunho's presence lingering around the house for the sole purpose of your sister almost no longer does an effect to you.

"wow. already?"

"yeah."

san offers to pay for the meal and drive you home instead of the usual catching a movie at his place before the actual end of the night and it's not like you're gonna fight him on it.

he's not your boyfriend and he definitely doesn't have any obligations to follow through any routines or whatever, so why are you all of a sudden feeling so tense about it?

tense and bitter about the fact that after he drives you home, there's a likely chance there's gonna be another girl at his place.

you think you're losing it.

you had let yourself indulge more and more into the possibility of staying, which was how you found the place that you could practically call ideal.

though it's only one bedroom, the modern but warm-toned style of the complex as a whole, as well as the location and pretty much everything else is convenient and accommodates all your needs.

when you had finally set a time and meeting with the landlord, you fell in love even harder in person because the second she opened the door to the place, it was like you knew this is it.

you think it can work out. you think you can see a future in this place; in this city still. and you have been much brighter and happier lately, even telling your boss the following day that there's a big chance you're gonna change your mind about the move given time is creeping up.

you had sent a text to san so excited because you want to tell him in person, every day the chance of you actually staying increasing by the second and he had told you he'd be available tomorrow night.

despite the conflicts swirling in your stomach a week ago, san had made up for it by being attentive as usual and making you feel like he really cares about you that the occasional rings and texts not from you were starting to become bearable.

after all, what does he owe you?

you're content with just having someone to talk and share your day with. you think you can live with that.

but you didn't expect nor think that all it'd take for the doubts to settle in again is to actually face the reality of your situation, making your way to san's place as promised and seeing a familiar face on the way in.

long hair and with a frame you've definitely seen before, it's hard to ignore the sensation she manages to conjure by just merely passing you.

“why don’t you ask the one person that would actually know where he is? or are you too good for that, too?”

you squint, confused, until he nods his head another direction and you follow, landing right into the view of the kitchen and to someone you know all too well just from the back.

his hands on some poor girl’s waist and lips running along with hers as her grip tightened at his disheveled hair, his body pressing her forward onto the counter, the both of them making out like there won’t be a tomorrow.

“no thanks,” you dismiss, managing to reframe from an eyeroll, pushing past hongjoong but not before you catch the smirk on him.

it wasn't the first time you saw her with san, because if it was, your body wouldn't have recognized her so easily as if she's a threat, replacing all the excitement and hope with nothing but old and plain insecurities.

then it's as if everything was a mistake.

choosing to stay because of san and with nothing but the hope that it will all work out... instead of going away on your own for some time and learning to really be independent.

your whole life, you've already been nothing but emotionally dependent on someone else, looking to them as a source of support, and you've realized that this time, it isn't any different.

you've just moved from yunho to san... and you didn't even like san for the longest time.

so how long before it will hit you that staying was a mistake; and especially that choosing to stay because of san was gonna be the biggest one of them all.

you have the tendency to catch feelings way too fast, and even if not romantic which you won't admit in this case (even if it might be), you react strongly to it and the feeling is consuming.

because how long before san will leave you the way yunho did?

everything may seem good for now but they will all meet the same ending. and to think of everything in perspective this way, you know you're not meant to stay.

your parents, yunho and your sister, san...

you don't feel ready for any of them currently, your life stuck at a point where you're not moving. and so you just turn back around and head home.

you think long and hard just to be sure this is what you want; then you think of how to tell your boss tomorrow, and about an hour later, you finally get a text from san.

san: you still coming? you said you have something to tell me

y/n: something came up sorry

y/n: i was just gonna tell you that i've made up my mind and i think i'm gonna go to japan

next // series m.list

taglist: @freeandrealme @shingene @cookiechristie @softie00 @crimson-mia @hexheathen @lixpixstix @atinytease @turtash @moonseonghwa @kkayfan @curryramyeon @justineasian @sannie-pudding @itsokaytobedumb00 @nerdy-kimchi @fannyxmh @acciocriativity @mel-the-mad-hatter @eastleighsblog @diorwoo @devilsmatches @kyume02 @distvrbia @wonwowzers @endeav0rsb1tch @sannwa @brown88 @sangiluvem @eburneon @hotteokhatyu @yeosangsbiceps @sankatchu @lynnsqueendom @harusoraa @ad0rechuu @interweab @revehosh @byunniebaekhyunnie @nabi-sannie @gugggu6gvai @rockstarsanie @shakalakaboomboo @yeosangsbbg @yawnzshit @avantalem @lelaleleb @mountiiny @arinyyy @svintsandghosts @yoongiworshiper @raineadlr @tunaasan @chickenscoups @nevieatiny

#y'all don't even know #the demons i fought #just to get 7k out of my ass #y/n got serious issues #but i hope y'all will still enjoy the drama #ateez angst #san x reader #choi san x reader #ateez x reader #ateez series #yunho x reader #fic: sweetestlies

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