#for some of these it's not so much that they scared me but they stayed with me/made an impact on me

[bomberqueen17]

you don't have to be very into birdwatching for this to start happening. you really don't have to have meant to do it, you only have to have exhibited mild curiosity about birds a couple of times for this to possess you and take you over.

i was in the Rosario Islands off Colombia, in the Carribbean, and I'd never been anywhere near there before, I'd never studied what birds they have there, had not considered it in my preparations. I'd spent several days in Cartagena beforehand and there above me as I lay in the pool on my hotel roof I'd recognized the distinctive silhouettes in a kettle of turkey vultures over the city, the same turkey vultures that turn up at my home in spring to fuck on my mom's barn roof, and I was so astonished to recognize them (if you'd asked, I wouldn't have thought I would have known them that well) that I sloshed out of the pool and went and got my phone and looked them up because surely I was imagining it, surely that wasn't the same-- but it is, it's them. They migrate, and some of them go as far as South America during the winter; that kettle could potentially contain the selfsame individuals as the ones that fuck at my mom's house. I had no idea! But I saw them with my own eyes, there they were, and thanks to the magic of the Internet I could look it up, and tell everyone trying to sunbathe by the pool who understood English all about it whether they wanted to know or not. (I didn't realize so many of the tourists did, lol, or I probably wouldn't have said "fuck at my mom's house" quite so much.)

And then we went to the Rosario Islands and it was 3pm and the tide was coming in with a very strong wind (it's the windy season there, they don't have summer and winter like us they have windy/rainy instead, and we went during the windy season), and there were these big birds that looked like a capital M and they were hovering, eerily still-- gliding fast into this strong wind so that they stayed completely motionless relative to the ground, and somehow, some part of my brain reached back 20 years to when I'd read about Stephen Maturin's seafaring naturalist adventures, and I just somehow knew even though I don't remember reading their description or habits, and I gasp-shrieked, "THOSE ARE MAGNIFICENT FRIGATEBIRDS", and my partner was like "what there's no way that's a real thing" and I slogged through the sand and ran to our cabana and got my phone and looked them up and SURE ENOUGH

they were magnificent frigatebirds and they were cool as FUCK

and i have now Seen the Magnificent Frigatebird

and watched one dive and scare a tourist into dropping her cocoloco into the water because they're magnificent frigatebastards too it turns out

It never lets you go and you will never be free but also oh my gosh there is so much more WORLD to observe when you know the names of the things in it!!!!!

(I installed the Cornell Lab of Ornithology's Merlin app on my phone and also got to sound ID the great kiskadee and also identify the Maria Mulata of folklore, song, statuary, and also numerous flocks.)

What they don’t tell you about getting into bird watching is that once you get into it, you do not get to decide when you bird watch. You can be on the beach of some distant tropical country with nothing planned except relaxing. But then you see a Common Fluttering Nut Buster and you’re like fuckkkkkkkk holy shit guys the Common Fluttering Nut Buster is not supposed to life this far west holy shitttttttttt

[lives-in-midgard]

Can't lose you

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader including Sam Wilson and Joaquin Torres

Summary: After Bucky found out that you had a car accident and are now in the hospital. He rushes to the hospital and is scared to lose you.

Warnings: slight mention of a car accident, sad and scared Bucky 🥺

Word Count: 1266

A/N: Hey! It's been a while since I wrote a Bucky fanfic. I hope you enjoy it. 🥰

Divider made by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

Bucky was at Sam and Joaquin’s base, talking about a mission when he suddenly got a call from an unknown number.

“Hello, am I talking to James Buchanan Barnes?” The woman said on the other end of the phone.

“Yes, that’s me.” Bucky said and looked over to Sam. Suddenly he began to get nervous. What if something happed to you?

“Did something happen to my wife?” Bucky asked and was scared what she would say.

“She had a car accident and is in the hospital. Your wife is currently getting operated.” She said and Bucky’s heart began to race. The woman explained some more things to Bucky, but he was too nervous to listen to everything.

“Thank you, I’ll be there as soon as possible.” Bucky said and as the call ended, he took a deep breath. He looked at the ground for a second and his eyes began to get blurry. Sam and Joaquin who could hear the conversation looked at each other with a worried expression. Sam walked over to Bucky and laid his hand on Bucky’s shoulder to give him some comfort. Bucky looked at Sam with a worried expression.

“I have to go to her.” Bucky mumbled and Sam nodded.

“We’ll drive you.” Sam said and looked at Joaquin who was already grabbing his car keys.

“Thanks, Sam.” They made their way to the car. Bucky didn’t pay much attention to the drive. He looked down at his wedding ring and softly touched it with his thumb and thought about this morning. The morning started so good. The day always starts good when you’re in his arms. A light smile appaired on his face as he thought back to today’s morning conversation. You had to get up and go to work but Bucky didn’t want to let go of you. So, you stayed a few more minutes and cuddled.

“Bucky we’re here.” Sam softly said and interrupted Bucky’s thoughts. Bucky looked up at him and then they walked to the hospital. As they walked into the hospital a nurse told Bucky where they could wait for a doctor. The three of them sat down on the chairs and Bucky looked at his ring again and started to play with his hands.

“I can’t lose her too.” Bucky suddenly whispered while a tear ran down his cheek. He thought about his sister, his parents and about Steve. You were the only family he has and he loved you so much.

“Buck, you won’t. She is a fighter.” Sam said and a light smile appeared on Bucky’s face.

“Yeah, you’re right. She is.”

“Thanks for being here with me.” Bucky said.

“Of course.” Sam said and Joaquin nodded. You are also important to them. They are one of your closest friends.

A few more minutes passed until a doctor came to them. Bucky, Sam and Joaquin all looked to her.

“Mr. Barnes?” She said and Bucky stood up.

“Is she okay?” Bucky asked.

“Your wife is stable. She is still asleep, but you can go to her, I’ll come and check on her in a bit.” The doctor said and Bucky felt relieved knowing that you were stable and that he could see you. Before walking away Bucky looked at Sam and Joaquin who both also looked very glad that you were okay.

“We’ll wait here.” Sam said and Bucky nodded. Then he followed the doctor to your room. Bucky opened the door and quietly walked over to your bed. He sat down next to your bed and reached for your hand, drawing soft circles on the back of your hand. A couple of minutes passed until you woke up. A soft smile appeared on his face as he noticed that you started to wake up.

When you woke up you looked into Bucky’s beautiful blue eyes.

“Bucky.” You mumbled and looked around.

“You’re at the hospital my love.” Bucky said and you could remember what happened.

“I had an accident.” You whispered and Bucky nodded.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, doll.” Bucky admitted as he softly held your hand and gave it a gently squeeze. You gave him a small smile.

“Sam and Joaquin are also here.” Bucky said after a moment, and you were relieved that he wasn’t alone. A while later there was a knock on the door and a doctor walked in.

“Mrs Barnes, how are you feeling?” She asked and looked at you.

“I feel tired and exhausted.” I admitted.

“That’s understandable, you have been though quite a bit. The surgery went well but you have to stay here for a few days.“

“So, she is okay?” Bucky asked to make sure.

“Yes, they both seem to be in perfect health.” The doctor said. You looked at Bucky with a confused look. Bucky was as confused as you and looked back to the doctor.

“You said they both?”

“I did. Mrs. Barnes. You’re pregnant.” She said and you couldn’t believe it. You began to smile and looked over to Bucky who also had a huge smile on his face.

“We’re gonna be parents.” Bucky said with a smile.

“I’ll let you two alone.” The doctor said with a smile and left the room.

“I can’t believe it, doll.” Bucky said and moved closer to you. He gently placed his hand on your cheek and gave you a passionate kiss.

“I love you.” You whispered as you broke the kiss.

“I love you too.” Bucky said with so much love.

“Can I see Sam and Joaquin?” You asked Bucky after a while.

“I think you should get some rest, doll.”

“Just for a bit.”

“Okay, just for a bit. I’ll be right back.” He said and kissed your cheek before going out of the room. It didn’t take long until Bucky returned with them.

“We are so glad that you’re okay.” Joaquin said with a smile as he entered the room.

“Thanks for being there for Bucky.”

“That’s what friends are for.” Sam said and you smiled back at him and then looked over to Bucky. Bucky nodded at you answering your silent question.

“I bet you will be great uncles.” You suddenly said with a grin.

“What?” Joaquin said confused but Sam started to smile.

“My beautiful wife is pregnant.” Bucky announced with a smile.

“Wow, congrats you two, that’s amazing.” Joaquin said with full excitement and Sam also congratulated you and Bucky. They stayed for a few minutes until you decided that it’s better to rest now.

“If you need anything, just call me.” Sam said before leaving. When they left you tried to move a bit to the other side of the bed.

“Woah, take it easy doll.” Bucky said and quickly stood up to help you.

“Just wanted to make some space for you.” You mumbled and could see how he began to smile.

“You want to cuddle?” Bucky asked in a soft voice, and you nodded. Bucky laid down beside you and gently put his arm around you. You laid your head on his chest, and he gently kissed your forehead. Bucky held you close and began to slowly draw circles on your arm, knowing that it always brings you comfort when he does that.

“I’m gonna be a dad.” Bucky suddenly whispered.

“I already know you’re going to be a great dad.” You whispered and slowly began to fall asleep.

“And you’re going to be the best mom.” Bucky whispered even though you were already asleep. Having you close and knowing that you were okay, finally brought Bucky some peace.

Taglist:

@marvelogic | @eviebuggg | @buck-star | @nicoline1998enilocin | @kandis-mom | @sergeantbarnessdoll | @noellez-best-life23 | @beaubbdoll | @sgtgarricks | @ratchildspartan | @scott-loki-barnes |  @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 |

@mrsbuckybarnes1917 | @brnesblogposts | @rogersbarber

[wordsofwhimsy]

❀ꗥ～𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ～ꗥ❀

❀ꗥ～ Sinister!Mark Edition! Part Two! ～ꗥ❀

Pairing: Sinister!Mark Grayson x Southern Belle!Reader

Warnings: Forced intimacy, slow-burn terror, 18+

Tags: Horrorcore tbh LMAO, but also kinda tender - only make it creepy as hell

Word Count: 2,477

Synopsis: You fed the stranger bleeding in your yard. He kissed you like a claim, then left like a dream. You think it’s over – until you wake up to a figure at the foot of your bed.

a/n: this is so dark – but i had to y’allll the first part didn’t really capture how FUCKED this man is.

read part one ❀ꗥ～Here!～ꗥ❀ you can start reading the main series ❀ꗥ～Here! ～ꗥ❀

You freeze.

Not because it’s romantic—not because your heart’s fluttering.

But because something primal deep in your bones tells you: This man is not kissing you out of love.

His mouth is on yours like it’s a claim, not a question. Like he's sealing something. Ownership. Territory. Hunger, still—but darker now. More certain.

When he pulls back, your breath comes shallow—not from want, but from instinct.

You do not flinch.

You do not make a sound.

You just blink up at him, slow and measured, and give a little breathless laugh like you’re surprised, not alarmed.

“Well,” you say, steadying your voice like you’re smoothing wrinkles out of a tablecloth. “That was forward.”

He stares at you. Watching. Waiting. His eyes still lit up like coals. He doesn’t seem confused. He’s not embarrassed. He’s assessing.

You smile—small. Soft. The kind you might give a bear sniffin’ at your front porch, hoping it wanders off before you need to reach for the rifle.

“I, uh... I reckon city boys don’t believe much in personal space, huh?”

He doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t move.

So you tilt your head, gentle-like. Lower your voice.

“But let me just say, sugar... when someone feeds you and lets you in their home, that don’t mean they’re offerin’ themselves, now. That just means they were raised right.”

He blinks once.

Still not moving.

You take a careful step sideways—not backward. Just enough to break the tension without lookin’ like you’re scared. Hands loose. Smile easy.

“Why don’t we take a breath, huh? It’s been a long night. You look like you’re still half in fight-or-flight mode.”

He watches your every move.

Your next breath is slow. Even.

“Now, I ain’t mad,” you say lightly. “But I do think maybe you’re a little off-kilter, what with the blood, the heat, and the fact that you ain’t slept proper in Lord knows how long.”

Finally, his expression shifts.

Just a twitch. A crack in that stone-set jaw.

“...You’re not scared of me,” he says, quiet. Confused.

You give a little shrug, even though your heart’s jackhammering in your chest.

“I got plenty of sense. Which is why I should be.” You hold his gaze. “But I also know better than to make sudden moves when a wild thing’s cornered.”

A beat passes.

Then another.

He steps back.

Just an inch. But it’s enough. The pressure in the room starts to ease, like the air’s stopped vibrating with something ready to snap.

You don’t sag with relief. You don’t run.

You just give him that same warm drawl you gave him at the grill, steady as sweet tea in July.

“Why don’t I fix you some cobbler to go?” you offer, already moving toward the counter. “You look like someone who might need a little somethin’ sweet to settle down.”

His gaze stays locked on you. But it softens—fractionally.

And you, darling southern soul that you are, keep your hands busy and your voice light.

You do not let him see how hard your hands are shaking.

The peach cobbler’s still warm from the oven as you cut a square and slide it into the container—hands steady, movements smooth, like you’re packing up a plate for a neighbor and not a walking apocalypse in a black-and-yellow suit.

Behind you, Mark hasn’t moved. You can feel him watching. Heat curling across your spine like a brand.

You hum—just a little tune you half-remember from childhood. Something calm. Domestic.

“Cobbler’s good for late nights,” you say gently, grabbing a spoon. “Sugar calms the nerves. Least, that’s what my gran used to say.”

When you finally turn, container in hand, he’s not there.

Just... gone.

No door creak. No gust of wind. No warning.

Just absence.

You stand there for a second, staring at the spot where he was. The house is too quiet. Your ears are ringing from how fast the silence hit.

Your knees buckle.

You catch the edge of the counter just in time to keep from hitting the floor. The container slips from your hand and clatters to the hardwood. The lid pops off, cobbler splattering across the floor.

You don’t care.

You press your back to the cabinet, sliding down until you’re seated, hand clutched to your chest, trying to breathe.

Holy hell.

That man had murder in his eyes and kissed you like he owned you—and then just vanished like the boogeyman out of a child’s nightmare.

You sit there a long time.

Eventually, your heartbeat settles. The cobbler stays where it is, forgotten and sticky.

You leave the kitchen light on when you go to bed.

Later that night���

You’re dreaming of hickory smoke and flickering porch lights. Of trees splitting open like paper and red eyes watching you through the dark.

Your sleep is light. Uneasy. Heat clinging to your skin like sweat.

You twitch awake, opening your eyes to the quiet.

The fan buzzes softly in the window, rattling every few seconds in its loose frame. The bedroom is dim, lit only by the haze of moonlight slipping in through the curtains, casting long shadows that stretch across the walls. For a few long moments, it feels like any other night in Georgia—hot, heavy, and still.

You shift beneath the sheets, trying to shake the lingering weight of the dream, the way it made your skin crawl even in sleep. Your hand moves to adjust the blanket, to tuck it under your chin—

And then you freeze.

There’s a shape in the room that wasn’t there before.

Not the armoire. Not the chair. Something taller. Broader.

Someone.

It takes a second too long for your brain to catch up. To understand.

A man is standing at the foot of your bed.

He’s not moving. Not breathing. Just there—watching.

You open your mouth, instinct flaring like a spark to dry kindling, but the scream barely begins before he’s already on you.

You don’t hear him move. There’s no sound—not even the creak of a floorboard. Just a rush of air and then his weight pins you down, hand clamped tight over your mouth.

The panic is instant and white-hot, a lightning strike behind your ribs. You stare up at him, wild-eyed.

Mark.

He looks different now. No more blood. No torn seams. His suit is intact, his skin clean, as if he bathed in a river and walked barefoot through hell to get back here. Moonlight cuts across his face, catching on the burn of his eyes—still that unnatural, glowing red that feels more furnace than human.

He’s not smiling.

He’s calm.

Like this is natural. Like breaking into your bedroom in the dead of night and holding you down is just another part of the ritual. Like you invited him in.

“Shhh,” he murmurs, low and close. His voice curls in your ear, thick and warm like molasses. “It’s just me.”

You try to speak—can’t. Your body is all panic.

“You were dreaming,” he adds, like that explains something. Like that’s why he’s here. His thumb brushes along your cheekbone, gentle in a way that makes it worse.  

He shifts his weight slightly, still straddling your legs, still in complete control. His hands settle on either side of you, caging you in. He studies your face like he’s reading a map he plans to memorize.

“I told you I’d come back,” he finally says, voice just a rough murmur.

You summon every ounce of your composure, every trick you’ve ever learned from dealing with cornered animals and temperamental men.

“I remember,” you say softly. “But you didn’t have to... sneak in. I left the porch light on.”

He huffs a small breath through his nose, something that could be a laugh. “Didn’t want to wake you.”

Your fingers curl into the bedsheet.

“Well,” you murmur, offering him the same soft lilt you gave him over ribs and sweet tea, “I reckon the horse is already out the barn on that one, sugar.”

Mark leans down slowly, not quite touching you, but close enough that the fan’s weak breeze can’t reach between your bodies. His eyes flicker across your face—your mouth, your throat, your eyes again.

“You were dreaming about me.”

You stiffen.

“I—I don’t know what I was dreaming about,” you say carefully, trying to sound calm, not accusing. “It’s all a blur.”

“No.” His voice is firmer now, almost possessive. “You were scared. I could feel it.”

You want to ask how. Want to ask what the hell he means. But you’re too afraid the answer will be something you won’t survive.

Instead, you nod—just once.

“Maybe I was,” you admit. “But it was just a dream. Nothin’ more.”

Mark doesn’t respond right away. He just watches you for a long, drawn-out moment that scrapes across your nerves like a dull blade. When he finally does move, it’s slow—deliberate.

He sits back, still on the bed, but no longer pinning you down. One of his hands trails along the edge of the blanket, straightening it. Tucking it around your leg. Like he’s tucking you in.

The gesture is too tender. Too quiet.

Your skin prickles.

“I like it here,” he murmurs. “It’s peaceful.”

You nod again, trying not to let your breathing betray you.

“Well... that’s Georgia for you.” There’s a pause, and you find yourself scrambling to fill the silence—to ease the tension. A pause. “…You hungry again, sugar?”

That smile widens. This time, it is a little cruel.

“No.” There’s another pause, then his hand reaches down, fingers brushing against your wrist. Barely a touch. “I didn’t come for food.”

You swallow hard.

You think you might still be dreaming. You hope you are.

But he’s real. And he’s watching you like you’re his now. Like you never had a say.       

He leans down again.

You don’t flinch. You don’t move at all.

His hand cradles your jaw, thumb brushing lightly along the edge of your cheek. Gentle. Reverent. Like he thinks you’re something sacred—but only because he already owns you. His lips find yours a moment later.

And the kiss is slow.

God, it’s slow.

Not desperate. Not wild like before. Just deliberate. Controlled. His mouth molds to yours with surprising softness, coaxing your lips to part, drawing out a breath you didn’t mean to give. His hand slides along your neck, thumb ghosting over your pulse, feeling every panicked thump beneath your skin.

Your body tenses—and then betrays you.

Your breath stutters. Your spine arches just slightly, instinctive. And when his tongue brushes the edge of your lower lip, you feel heat bloom low in your belly like it’s been waiting for an excuse. You don’t lean in—but you don’t pull back, either.

You can’t.

Because you’re not sure what he’ll do if you do.

When he finally pulls away, it’s only by an inch. His breath fans over your lips, warm and steady. You can still feel the shape of his mouth on yours.

“You taste like sleep,” he says quietly. “Like warmth and sugar and something I want to keep.”

You laugh—barely—a tiny, forced breath of sound that trembles at the edges.

“Guess you’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth, then.”

His grin widens.

This time, it’s wicked. Possessive.

A little inhuman.

He leans in slow again, savoring it—like this moment, this closeness, is a treat he's earned. His lips brush yours again, not demanding but deliberate. Controlled. It’s a kiss designed to unravel you—not with heat, but with certainty. Like he’s making a point.

His hand slides lower.

Not rough. Not rushed.

Just certain.

Fingers tracing the line of your hip, slipping beneath the blanket, then the thin cotton of your sleep shorts. You go still—every nerve screaming silently—but you don’t stop him. You can’t.

He finds the spot easily.

He doesn’t linger. Doesn’t need to.

Just a single touch—slow, perfect pressure to the soft bud of nerves that makes your breath hitch and your back stiffen. The sound slips out before you can trap it—a quiet, involuntary moan, half-formed and helpless.

And he lives for it.

You feel the satisfaction ripple through him, a deep breath in, almost a sigh. Like that sound—that one tiny, traitorous reaction—was what he came for.

He withdraws his hand slowly, carefully, like he’s closing the lid on something fragile.

Mark watches you a moment longer, then sighs through his nose—content, almost. Like a man finally home after a long journey. He shifts slowly, sliding off your hips, his weight leaving your body with a strange reluctance.

But he doesn’t leave.

Instead, he slips beneath the sheet like he belongs there.

Like this is his bed now, too.

His arm winds around your waist without ceremony, anchoring you against the solid heat of his chest. His other hand finds your hip, fingers splaying out possessively, thumb dragging lazy little arcs along the thin cotton of your nightshirt.

You’re frozen, every muscle taut, every nerve screaming. But he just hums low in his throat, like you’ve soothed something ancient and snarling inside him.

“Go back to sleep,” he murmurs against your ear. His breath is warm on your skin, lips brushing the fine hairs at your temple. “You need your rest.”

You swallow hard, still staring at the wall, unmoving. Your heart pounds so loud it’s a wonder he can’t hear it echoing off your bones.

His grip tightens slightly—not painful, just reminding. Like a leash being drawn snug.

“We’ve got a big day tomorrow,” he adds, soft as prayer. “Don’t want you too tired.”

You don’t ask what he means.

You don’t want to know.

Your eyes are wide open now, fixed on the moonlight shifting across the wall. You nod, just once—enough to make him loosen his hold by a fraction, enough to sell the lie.

“Alright,” you whisper.

His lips press to the back of your neck, slow and deliberate.

“Good girl,” he breathes.

Then stillness.

Not silence—because you can hear everything. The steady thrum of the fan. The cicadas buzzing outside. The distant bark of a dog.

And his breathing. Slow. Calm. Measured. He’s at peace now, wrapped around you like a shroud.

You stay exactly where you are. You don’t blink. You don’t breathe too deep.

Because you can feel the truth of it in your bones—if he even senses you’re pretending, you won’t survive the night.

So you lie there. Perfect. Still.

Awake until the light comes.

And all the while, his breath stirs the hair at the nape of your neck, warm and steady, like a man sleeping beside the love of his life.

Like you aren’t a cage he’s decided to live inside.

[soeyekonic]

— ✩♬ ₊˚. same boat ⭑ M.S

˚⟡˖⋆ synopsis while visiting her hometown, megan is reunited with you, the childhood crush she’s never truly gotten over. as her feelings grow stronger, fear makes her pull away, until a late-night breakdown leads to the confession she never thought she’d say out loud.

disclaimer : fluff 🙌. mutual pinning. megan skiendiel x childhood friend!fem!reader. slight angst (not really..just some overthinking). idk guys… megan js gives me lizzy mcalpine vibes 😣

currently playing same boat - lizzy mcalpine

megan hadn’t been back to honolulu in over a year, and everything felt too familiar and too foreign at once. the breeze still smelled like plumeria and salt. her old bedroom, still full of her childhood posters, felt smaller now. her mom still made spam musubi first thing in the morning, like megan hadn’t grown up and flown across the world.

but this time, she wasn’t alone.

katseye had landed in hawaii for a much-needed break. the girls were staying at a nearby beach resort, all sunburnt smiles and windblown hair, thrilled to finally meet megan’s infamous hometown. and all megan could think about was you.

you, the childhood friend she never got over. you, who she hadn’t seen since she left for los angeles . you, who were apparently also home visiting family.

and now, according to her mom, you were coming over. with your family. for dinner. tonight.

“megan’s gonna freak,” manon said, leaning over the kitchen counter. “you talk about her all the time. i thought she was a myth.”

“i don’t talk about her that much,” megan muttered, trying not to burn the tofu sizzling in the pan.

“megan,” yoonchae deadpanned. “you once wrote a whole verse in a demo about her eyes. we had to cut it because it was too obvious.”

the other girls laughed. megan blushed, hiding her face behind the cabinet door.

“she’s just—important, okay?” megan mumbled. “we grew up together.”

daniela tilted her head. “important like ‘first love’ important or…?”

megan didn’t answer. she didn’t have to. they already knew.

—

you showed up with that same shy smile megan remembered from when you were thirteen, all sun-drenched and soft-voiced. she hadn’t realized she’d missed your voice until she heard it again.

and the rest of katseye? instantly loved you.

“you’re the y/n?” lara asked, eyes wide. “the real y/n?”

you laughed. “depends on what megan’s told you.”

“she said you saved her from drowning once,” sophia chimed in. “but that she jumped in after a beach ball, so maybe it’s not as dramatic as it sounds?”

“she exaggerates,” you teased, nudging megan gently as you passed her a plate. “she was fine.”

the night blurred into stories, grilled fish, and ukulele strings echoing in the background. you sat beside megan on the porch steps, just like you used to when you were kids, watching the stars.

and she was overthinking again.

you looked older now, but still familiar. her heart squeezed when you laughed at something daniela said, when your eyes lingered on hers a little too long. did you know? could you tell?

maybe you were just being polite. maybe you didn’t feel the same. maybe megan had made it all up in her head—again.

—

the days after, you started hanging out with the group. going on hikes, lounging on the beach, late-night snacks at megan’s, karaoke that got too loud. you were a perfect fit. everyone saw it. everyone but megan.

because something was shifting inside her—and she was scared.

the second or third time she caught herself staring at you for a little too long, she panicked. she was used to liking you, sure—but this? this was different. the feelings were louder now, older and sharper. you weren’t just a memory to hold onto—you were right there, laughing in her passenger seat, falling asleep in her mom’s living room, humming along to her favorite songs.

she liked you. bad. and it was terrifying.

so she started pulling back.

by day four, you noticed.

at first, you thought maybe she was just tired. but then it kept happening. she stopped walking beside you on hikes. she avoided eye contact during group dinners. and when you texted her to hang out, her replies got shorter.

“rain check,” she said one evening.

that was it. no smiley face. no promise of tomorrow.

you stared at your phone for a long time, fingers tightening.

had you said something wrong? crossed a line?

that night, you stayed late at megan’s house while everyone else was watching a movie in the back. you wandered into her room, fingers tracing the books on her shelf, the polaroid pictures still hanging above her mirror. then you saw her in the hallway, eyes locking with yours. you smiled. she froze.

then she turned and walked away.

megan ran.

she didn’t mean to. she just… couldn’t be there anymore. the air in the house felt too thick. she couldn’t look at you and pretend she was okay. so she left. quietly, slipping out the back door, sandals in hand, feet hitting the sand without thinking.

the beach was nearly empty, moonlight casting silver shadows across the tide. megan sat down, knees to chest, trying to calm the pounding in her head.

why couldn’t she just be normal about this? why couldn’t she just tell you?

because she was scared. scared that if she confessed and you didn’t feel the same, she’d lose you completely. scared that maybe you were just being nice, and this was all one-sided. scared that her feelings would ruin everything.

“megan?”

she whipped her head around.

you were standing there, barefoot, breathless, your hair falling over your shoulders. you walked toward her slowly, eyes wide and hurt and confused.

“did i… do something wrong?”

megan’s mouth opened, then shut.

you sat beside her, arms crossed tightly over your chest, voice smaller this time. “you’ve been avoiding me.”

“i know,” megan whispered.

you blinked, waiting.

megan looked down at her hands, digging into the sand. “i didn’t mean to. i just… i got overwhelmed.”

“with what?”

“with you,” she snapped, then instantly looked away. “i mean—god. just—everything.”

you didn’t say anything. so she kept going. words spilling too fast, too raw.

“i thought i was okay. i thought i could just be around you and pretend it’s nothing. that it’s just nostalgia or whatever, but it’s not. it’s not. i like you, y/n. i like you and it’s driving me crazy and i didn’t want to ruin anything so i just started acting weird and now i’m ruining it anyway and i hate that i can’t just be normal about this but you’re just—god, you’re you and—”

“megan.”

she stopped.

you leaned in. quiet. sure.

“i like you too.”

megan blinked, stunned. “you—you do?”

“i thought i was being too obvious,” you admitted, smiling faintly. “but you were too busy spiraling.”

megan laughed, hands shaking, face flushed with relief and disbelief. “so i didn’t screw everything up?”

“not yet,” you teased. “but you came close.”

you both laughed then, softly. and when megan looked at you—really looked at you, moonlight in your hair and the ocean whispering behind you—she felt steady for the first time in days.

“i don’t want to lose you,” she said quietly.

“you won’t,” you promised. “you never did.”

so she kissed you. right there on the sand. the kind of kiss that felt like home, like healing, like something that had been waiting for years.

and for the first time since coming back to honolulu, megan wasn’t overthinking.

she was just... finally living it.

—

megan woke up with sand in her hair and sunlight warming her face. the sound of waves still lingered in the background, but softer now, gentler. you were curled up beside her, head resting on her shoulder, arms wrapped around your knees, both of you still in last night’s clothes.

she didn’t want to move.

everything from the night before felt surreal—your voice asking “did i do something wrong?”, the way her panic had spilled out of her, and your calm answer: “i like you too.”

her heart had been on fire, and then you’d touched her hand, and suddenly, she could breathe.

now, with the ocean stretching out in front of you and your fingers loosely laced with hers, she felt it fully. the quiet kind of happy. the kind that settled in your chest and didn’t ask questions.

“hey,” you whispered.

she turned her head. “hi.”

you smiled, lazy and sweet. “we slept on the beach.”

“i know.”

“my back hurts.”

“mine too.”

but neither of you moved.

later that morning, when megan walked into the kitchen of the beach house, barefoot and still sandy, the girls were already awake—half-dressed for a beach day, eating fruit straight out of the fridge. daniela was wearing megan’s hoodie. lara was using a butter knife to aggressively cut a mango.

manon was the first to notice. “she returns,” she said dramatically, bowing. “where have you been, miss skiendiel?”

“yeah,” sophia added, squinting. “we thought you got swept away by the tide or something.”

yoonchae narrowed her eyes. “you didn’t come back last night.”

megan blinked. “i—i was at the beach.”

“with who?” lara asked, tilting her head. then a beat passed. “wait. with who.”

megan looked down, cheeks flushing.

and then the room exploded.

“no. no way,” daniela shrieked, dropping a slice of pineapple. “you kissed her?”

megan tried to say something, but sophia clutched her arm and gasped. “she kissed her. she’s not denying it!”

lara screamed into a towel.

yoonchae smiled softly. “finally.”

megan hid her face in her hands as the girls circled her like sharks who smelled blood—but the good kind. the best kind.

“we’ve been rooting for this for months,” manon said. “honestly, i’m relieved. i was tired of being subtle.”

“you weren’t subtle,” megan muttered.

“details,” she waved off.

then, through the noise, you stepped into the kitchen holding two iced coffees—one for you, one for megan.

everyone went quiet.

“oh,” you said, glancing around. “did i… walk into something?”

megan walked over, took the coffee from your hand, and—before she could think too hard—kissed your cheek.

“nope,” she said softly. “perfect timing.”

the girls screamed again. megan laughed into her drink. and for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t running from anything.

she had everything she needed, right here.

a/n: guys i love this song so much. like u don’t understand

[manmuncher777]

Idea!!!!….. situationship geto but reader is madly in love with him and has baby fever….. maybe some horny baby trapping attempts?!?!

This is incredibly horny… I love it so much. Suguru my husband - he just doesn’t know rn

Trigger warning - Babytrapping, dubcon?, unprotected sex, p in v

Friends with benefits? More like friends with no boundaries.

Suguru’s head is buried between your thighs—hands gripping your hips like he’s scared you’ll vanish if he lets go. His voice is soft and dazed against your skin.

“Fuck, you taste too good, baby. Gonna make me stay here all night.”

You smile to yourself, fingers threading through his dark hair, tugging just a little. He always melts for you when you’re sweet to him. When you wear that perfume he likes. When you let him lay his head on your chest after he cums and pretend, just for a second, that you’re his.

You aren’t. Not really. Not officially.

Just friends. Just fucking.

Except he calls you when he’s sick. Except he buys you your favorite snacks when you’re on your period. Except he��s met your parents (by accident—but he still showed up in a button-down and shook your dad’s hand).

You know you shouldn’t want more. You do want more.

And he’s just so easy to have. So easy to love.

You pull him up by the chin, watch his heavy-lidded, glassy eyes stare at you with pure worship, mouth shiny and wet.

“You’d give me anything I wanted, wouldn’t you, Suguru?” you ask softly.

He hums, nuzzles your neck. “You know I would.”

And you smile—sweet and secretive.

Suguru’s hair is messy, strands clinging to his flushed face, sweat shining on his temples as he rocks into you with slow, punishing thrusts. He’s deep—stretching you just right, hips grinding down to hit that spot that makes you whimper every time. The way he’s looking at you? Like he’s trying to memorize every expression, every gasp, every twitch of your body under his.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, low and hoarse, voice thick with admiration and lust. He’s got one hand around your throat, not choking—just resting there, heavy and firm like a reminder. “So fucking pretty. So fuckin’ good for me, baby.”

Your moan breaks around his name as your legs wrap around his waist again, drawing him even deeper. He hisses, jaw tightening. His other hand grips your thigh, holding you wide open like you’re something delicate he’s about to ruin. It was moments like this when you needed him most, when those thoughts started. When he looks at you like your his whole world, the sweets nothings he whispers to you, like prayers to a goddess.

“You feel that?” he whispers, nose brushing yours. “This pussy’s perfect. Takes me so well, sucks me in like she needs it.”

“Suguru—” you gasp, nails raking down his back.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he growls, thrusting harder now, the sound of skin slapping loud and wet between your bodies. “Say my name. Let everyone fucking know who owns this pussy.”

He kisses you then, messy and desperate, tongue deep in your mouth as he fucks you into the mattress. It’s overwhelming—his praise, his voice, his cock—and it’s all too much, but not enough.

“Can’t get enough of you,” he groans, breaking the kiss to pant against your lips. “Been thinkin’ about you all day—how tight you are, how wet you get for me. You make me fucking insane, baby.”

You’re trembling now, completely undone beneath him, and he feels it—the way your body’s about to break for him.

“You gonna cum for me?” he asks, fucking you even deeper, his voice a husky whisper, reverent. “C’mon, be my good girl—let me feel you.”

And when you do—when your body arches, and your cry of his name echoes around the room—he fucks you through it, praising you through gritted teeth.

“That’s it, that’s my girl… fuck, you’re perfect. So perfect.”

Even when you’re shaking, spent and crying into his neck, Suguru doesn’t stop telling you how good you are.

You can sense from the little crack in his voice, the way his hips are stuttering slightly, his head dipping int you neck as he fucks you that hes close. About to pull out.

And you know that you shouldn’t, that you should talk to him first. But he did say he would give you anything, and maybe you wanted him. More specifically a life with him, a family with him. And there was no reason why it couldn’t happen, why you guys wouldn’t be perfect together. Sometimes things just need a nudge in the right direction.

So you let your legs tighten around him, your arms pulling his body tightly into yours as he nears the edge.

‘Baby- m’close” he chokes out, struggling to hold off. You can feel a light resistance against your hold

“S’okay sugu” you whisper, relishing in the sensation of him throbbing inside you.

“Wha- sweetheart” confusion laces his lust filled tone, you can sense how close he is, legs pulling him even closer as he cums.

“Just cum baby, ill sort it tomorrow”

He couldn’t resist anymore, not with the way your slutty little pussy was clenching around him. A deep moan leaving him as he fucks into you, shooting hot ropes of cum deep inside you, gasping at the sensation of finishing inside.

Body stilling as he lays there, still inside you, panting. And you didn’t miss the slight smile on his face, the way he came harder than usual that night.

This was exactly what you needed, you just had to help him see. You were sure he would, especially as he fell asleep that night, still laying on you as you smoothed your fingers through his hair.

Suguru was already teetering on the edge, sweat beading at his temples as he stared up at you—perched on top, riding him slow, like you had all the time in the world.

Your hips rolled in smooth, languid circles, the drag of your cunt making him twitch with every pass. You looked unreal in the low light, skin glowing, tits bouncing just slightly with every movement. Your nails dug into his chest, leaving little crescents as you leaned forward, breath warm over his neck.

He was too far gone to say anything coherent, biting down on groans that threatened to spill every time you sank back down onto him. His fingers trembled where they gripped your thighs. Everything was slick and warm and unbearably tight.

And then he felt it—your legs wrapping tighter around him, locking him in.

“Baby—” he breathed, the warning thin, cracking at the edges.

You didn’t say anything. Just kept fucking yourself on his cock, taking him deep, deeper, as if your body knew better than he did.

“Don’t—shit, don’t do that,” he choked out, eyes fluttering. “I’m gonna cum—fuck, I’m—”

You clenched around him.

He snapped.

“Sweets, you- oh fuck”

His back arched off the bed, a broken moan ripped from his throat as he spilled into you, cock twitching inside that sweet, desperate cunt. But you didn’t stop. You kept going—soft and steady, grinding like you were trying to keep every drop inside.

“Holy fuck,” he breathed, hands flying to your waist, not to stop you—but to ground himself, to hold on. “You’re still—Jesus, baby—”

He could feel it, the warmth of his cum, the wet slick between you. Could feel how your body was greedily coaxing every last drop out of him, still pulsing around his sensitive cock.

His head tipped back against the pillows, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.

You looked so good on top of him. So fucking perfect.

And he was still inside.

Still hard.

Still throbbing.

“…You didn’t let me pull out,” he muttered, voice hoarse. But you didnt miss the slight smile on his lips, that look in his eyes as he watched you.

You didn’t answer. Just smiled, all pretty and ruined, and rocked your hips again.

And Suguru knew—he was absolutely, fucking ruined.

The shift was instant.

One second, you were grinding on his cock like you owned him—warm, full, dripping. The next, Suguru had you on your back, hands digging into your thighs, spreading you wide like you were something to be devoured.

“Fucking slut,” he hissed, voice low and dark, completely different from the soft praise moments ago. “You really wanted my cum that bad?”

He slammed back in—deep—his hips snapping forward with force that made the headboard thud against the wall.

Your back arched, a sharp cry caught in your throat.

“Didn’t even let me pull out,” he growled, leaning in, forehead nearly pressed to yours, breath hot and heavy. “Just wrapped those greedy little legs around me and took it.”

Every thrust was brutal, the kind of pace that left no room to breathe. His cock dragged against every sensitive part inside you, hitting deep and fast, his balls slapping against your soaked pussy with every sharp snap of his hips.

“You wanted to get fucked full, huh?” His hand wrapped around your throat, not tight—just enough to ground you. “Wanna get knocked up so bad you couldn’t even wait?”

You whimpered, nails raking down his back as your body trembled under him

“Take it,” he spat, teeth gritted, pace somehow faster now. “Take it like the little slut you are.”

You were unraveling. Your body couldn’t keep up—brain fuzzy, mouth open in a silent cry, overwhelmed by the pressure, the heat, the slap slap slap of skin on skin.

Suguru leaned down, teeth grazing your jaw, whispering dark and ragged against your ear.

“Wanna fill you until it leaks down your thighs,” he panted. “Keep you stuffed, fuck you every night until you’re swollen and fucked-out and begging me to stop.”

His cock twitches inside you, and you knew—he was close again. “S’what you want isn’t it? For me to knock you up?”

Squealing out “yes” over and over again was all you could managed as his tip bullied your cervix.

He pushed in deep, holding you still, every muscle in his body tensed.

“Gonna make sure you get it this time,” he growled. “My pretty girl huh?”

And then he came, hard and deep, burying himself to the hilt as you clenched and came with him—wet, messy, gasping his name as your walls fluttered around him.

He didn’t pull out.

Didn’t dare.

Because now that he’d started—he wasn’t done filling you.

“If you wanted a baby so badly sweets, you should’ve asked”

[jacksonsturniolo]

tw — mental health, sh, suicide, and maybe some more but it’s heavy topics.

It’s May which also means it’s mental health awareness month.

This generation doesn’t focus too much on topics like this, they say it’s attention seeking, annoying, and draining for the people who have to hear about it. But it’s something so much bigger than it seems.

wether you have anxiety, depression, or are just at a good spot in your life. It’s still important to ask for help, to talk about it.

And if you see someone struggling and not asking for help because they’re too embarrassed, or too scared. Ask them even if they say they’re okay. No ones ever one hundred percent okay.

Just a simple “how are you.“ can affect someone much more than you think. It can make someone feel seen, or wanted.

Mental health for me is big because I’ve lost someone so sooo close to me a few months ago because no one noticed him losing himself, he felt like he had no other choice. And it’s my biggest regret not noticing.

I struggle every day to even cope with it, I do things to myself that aren’t okay and no one should go through or have to do. It’s not me seeking attention it’s me trying to cope with what I have.

And it’s like that for so much people. But you can get help.

Music.

going to therapy.

talking to someone who you trust.

Seeking connections to people no matter how drained you are

You can do it.

No matter how much you think no one wants you here, there will be someone out there who will mourn your smile, your laugh, your voice, everything about you because you’re gone.

It’s exhausting, I know it is but I swear it can get better we all just have to try and help each other because without talking to someone it can never get better.

988, a hotline I use every so often.

Trust me there is someone out there who wants to see you happy.

You can do this :).

You are enough.

You are loved.

You are wanted.

Please stay.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Thunder Couple ⚡ | Bucky Barnes

Marvel Masterlist

note: Just saw Thunderbolts* today in theaters and all I can say is Marvel cooked with this one. It's the best MCU movie in a while (up there with GOT3 post-Endgame) and the overall theme/messages throughout the film were portrayed so well. And I nearly jumped out of my seat during the second post-credit scene I mean I literally almost lost it. Anyway, I'm might even see it again tomorrow and y'all already know I'm sat for Fantastic Four First Steps. Get ready for some Thunderbolts* headcanons these next couple chapters.

content warnings: spoilers for Thunderbolts*!! (scroll if you haven't seen it yet!) overall major fluff

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

Being in a relationship with Bucky Barnes while also being a Thunderbolt* would look like:

Having been a CIA operative turned rogue hitman for Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, you were 'a guest' in her little cleanup operation that ultimately resulted in your unorthodox team-up with fellow anti-heroes that in turn became the Thunderbolts*/New Avengers. Falling in love with former Winter Soldier turned Congressman Bucky Barnes was not in the plan, but hey you can't help what the heart wants.

The others constantly tease y'all and will be like "uh oh, mommy and daddy are fighting again," whenever you two argue during a mission or while planning an attack. Bucky is headstrong and stubborn, but you're the only one who can really get through that hard head of his. He respects you so much that honestly, there's no point in arguing, he's gonna do what you think is best. 

Couples that throw hands against bad guys together, stay together. The two of you are an unstoppable duo when it comes to missions--watching each other's six, throwing weapons for the other to catch, throwing each other if it's necessary. "Babe, I know you're a super soldier and all, but can you try to be a little gentler when I ask you to toss me across the platform?" 

Staying up late in the tower's penthouse going over files which just ends being you two cuddled on the couch watching a Met's game if it's on or catching Bucky up on another movie he missed out on. Star Wars, the Godfather, The Matrix, the Equalizer, Grease, etc. He's got so many questions and anytime you watch an action movie the man is criticizing the fighting technique. 

You train together most days although the man tends to hold himself back because he's afraid of hurting you with his strength. and he's not available then you usually train with Yelena and Ava while he, John and Alexi do their super soldier showdowns. At that point you three just watch and take bets on who wins. Of course, your money is on Bucky. 

Bucky will put his arm in the dishwasher to clean and you'll discover it when you go to load the dishwasher. "Bucky! Is your arm clean to your liking or do you want me to give it another spin?" "Another spin, darling, thanks!"

If his hair gets too long, you'll offer to give him haircuts because he's too damn lazy to do it himself or go to a barber saying, "We've got more important things to worry about than my hair."  It gets to a point that after his millionth complaint you simply grab his arm and push him into the chair yourself. "Your ass is staying here until I'm done and if you get up while I'm working then it's your fault for the fuck ass hairdo you'll be rocking from here on."

Expect harsh kisses filled with relief after a job completed. Especially if there was a close call involving you. Bucky will grab your face in his hands and practically push you off your feet by the force of his lips claiming your own. And he doesn't give a fuck where you are or if his political reputation is reprimanded, that man is kissing you like it's his only way to breath. "Don't ever--." *kiss* "--scare me like that--." *kiss* "again, L/n."

[melwnst]

────── ⋆⋅☆ BIRTHDAY BOY, S.W

summary. Sam deserves to be celebrated, so you surprise him with something he’s always wanted to do for his birthday.

⭑.ᐟ to apologize for my previous post… here’s a cute one for Sam’s birthday! There’s also a birthday boy (dean’s version) if you’d like to read that :) please interact and send requests if you have any<3

word count. 884

supernatural masterlist/full masterlist

──────────୨ৎ──────────

The sun’s not even up yet. You know Sam’s bound to wake up soon, so you wait. You wait because the excitement is so high, you can’t go back to sleep. It’s not even your birthday- and yet you’ve never been more excited. You can’t wait to see the look on Sam’s face once he sees what you have planned for him.

A few long minutes later, you can feel him stir under your arm, you’re not one to be loud and too much in the morning, you’re not even a morning person- but Sam’s too special for you to stay still.

‘Morning.’ His hoarse voice rings in your ears.

‘Morning handsome. Happy birthday.’ You’re already sitting up in front of him on the bed, rubbing your hands like a Machiavellian villain. Like you’re plotting against him.

‘Okay, spill. What’s going on?’ Sam doesn’t even say thank you- he’s too focused now. He’s almost scared because he knows you take this too seriously. He almost doesn’t want to get out of bed- so he wants to know what you’ve planned.

‘What? Nothing!’ You’re not exactly the best at lying. It’s not in your genes, much less just you- you suck at it.

‘You have a tell.’ Sam raises his eyebrows.

‘I do not.’ You slap his arm, laughing trying to stay credible.

‘You so do. When you lie you roll your eyes. You don’t even do that when you’re annoyed.’

‘You’re seeing things.’ You roll your eyes, and the moment you do you sigh. Sam laughs at you, because you do have a tell.

‘Okay, fine. But I’m not telling you it’s a surprise.’

‘I hate surprises.’ He lays his head back on the bedpost.

‘You won’t hate this one, promise.’ You lean closer, and plant a quick kiss on his lips.

‘C’mon, move it! Shower, then get in the car. We’ve got an hour drive we have to hurry.’ You steal another kiss before running out of the room.

Sam looks at the door that just closed, your footsteps leaving further and he smiles. He smiles because he knew you wouldn’t stay still for his birthday and do nothing. And he can act annoyed- he probably will, but he’s so thankful for you. Thankful that someone still cares, still celebrates him in ways he deserves to be.

After a quick shower, he sees you already waiting by the car in anticipation.

The drive is quicker than expected but it’s quiet. It’s just music in the background, his hand on your thigh, some quick stolen glances.

The moment you get there, Sam’s so confused.

He sees planes, he sees costumes, and then he sees people jumping out of them from the sky.

‘You didn’t.’ He turns to look at you, only to see your hands covering your mouth while laughing.

‘So? You like it?’ Your heart almost stops in anticipation because he’s not smiling.

‘You’re insane you know that?’ He breaks a smile, finally.

‘Is that a yes?’

Before you have a chance to even hear an answer, Sam hugs you and spins you around. He whispers a small yes in your hair while your laugh echoes all around.

‘But it’s just me right? You’re not coming?’ He asks while setting you down, because he knows.

‘No I’m coming.’ You give him a small smile, although your hearts starts to beat faster by the second because you’re realizing what you’re about to do.

‘But- well you can’t? You’re so afraid of heights you cry when you have to get on a plane that’s why we drive everywhere. You cried last month because you had to jump from a window 3 feet up the ground?’

‘Okay first of all I don’t cry, that’s stupid. Second, yeah I’m a little scared but you’ve wanted this for so long I can’t not do it with you.’ You lie, again because you’re embarrassed.

‘So you’re doing it for me?’ Sam ignores that and teases you.

‘Oh shut up.’ You bump your shoulder into his, and soon enough he puts his arm around your shoulder.

Your hand goes up to intertwine with his.

‘Thank you for this. This means a lot.’ He looks down on you.

‘Of course baby, you deserve this. You deserve everything.’ You look up, and Sam looks at you like you’re the best thing to ever happen to him. He looks at you with so much love your heart might give out from more than just the stress.

Sam takes a bit of it away though. You’re not so nervous anymore- because you’re conquering a fear, and you’re doing it with Sam.

‘I love you.’ He smiles at you leaning down, but when he’s closer than possible, your hand leaves his, your body out from under his.

‘C’mon lover boy, we got some parachuting to do!’ You run to the small warehouse full of planes, but Sam doesn’t move.

He stays still and looks at you. Really- looks at you. He’s always known that you were the one. But now? He wonders if he should propose now instead of waiting. Maybe marry you on the spot even, because after this, after what you did for him, realizing one of his dreams, he never wants to let you go. He doesn’t want to go one more day without calling you his wife.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

taglist: @tinas111 @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @lov3-audz @mostlymarvelgirl @that-stanford-girlie @sunnyteume @bohoooitsme (comment&follow to be added!)

[stillwatervoid]

VILTRUMITE MARK IS SO (CHEF'S KISS)

I honestly cannot list who'd be my #1 fav Mark bc it always shifts on the mood lol but he's always high up there! (I… uh, this is another long one - sorry 🙏)

It's got me thinking about Viltrumite Mark recalling a human childhood friend he had since his early years on Earth (I HC sometimes that he was raised on Viltrum since a young age, but still lived a few years on Earth), so when it calls time for his people demanding he finds a mate— Well, all he can think about is Reader back on Earth.

The same one that made him laugh before he forgot how to. The same one who bandaged his cuts back when he was a fragile human, but Mark still smiled because Reader was also human. Who geeked out with him over a ridiculous comic book about a dog wearing a cape until the Sun went to sleep, and they found themselves cuddled beneath the blankets for a sleepover. Who enjoyed running his fingers through Mark’s soft hair, saying the other kids were stupid for making fun of it. Who kissed his cheek on Valentine’s Day and told him that he stayed up all night with Reader’s mom to write him a poem in a paper heart. One made in childish scribbles that still conveyed love as sweet and melting as the candy gifted on such a romantic day. He handed it to Mark before running away. Too scared to wait for Mark’s reaction.

The same one who still wondered what happened to Mark since he left Earth with his father, without a word, the day after. It was Mark’s only regret: leaving before he even gotten a chance to tell him. To give Reader his own stupid heart-shaped love letter, with a poorly drawn Seance Dog and - with the help of his own mother - cheesy, but honest lines that reflected words he never knew how to express. Now, he understood the reason for his father’s stares that night. Just like his father was leaving his mother behind, it would be the same for Mark. Mark would hold onto a confession in the shape of paper hearts that never reached their intended recipient. That wouldn’t even exist on the same planet. His father told him this feeling would fade. Mark didn’t know who that reassurance was for between them. Because those feelings stayed for him and stung his eyes, for days and nights on end.

The scribbles of those words he required even his human mother’s assistance on were still written better than if he had the chance to re-do it now. He lost too much touch of Earth - his… humanity. The part of him he still cherished as it was one of very few he had left to feel connected to Reader. It wasn’t weak, like how his father and the Viltrumites tried to tell him. It was the only thing keeping him together.

Not a wrinkle ever creased in those paper hearts. Not a tear, not a wear, which is the opposite of how he could say the state of his own heart has been in ever since that day.

(That got majorly outta hand oops lmao I just wanted to write awkward Mark courting Reader the Earthly way 😂)

Anyways, so uh, yeah, MARK COURTING READER (after tons of tears with their reunion) WOULD BE SO CUTE AND FUNNY

Mark bringing him a whole ass tree instead of flowers and taking limbs of a giant kaiju he defeated to him as a “rare delicacy he can cook,” that good stuff~. Mark hoping Reader is watching him whenever he defeats enemies (whether it’s on the news or Reader actually witnesses it) because he wants to be seen as a strong, dependable and worthy mate. His way of complimenting Reader’s outfit is… interesting, especially when he tries to insert an Earth term he heard: “That’s a sharp outfit, Reader. Careful. You could puncture the hull of an empire class Viltrumite Warship, leaving thousands to suffocate and drift in space… because it’s so sharp.”

And if Reader tries initiating any physical contact, such as simply hugging, handholding or cuddling? Poor Mark is confused and sorta stiffens, not used to this… gentle touching. He remembers doing some things like that with Reader when they were younger, but Viltrumite upbringing dies hard, and he questions it until Reader points out how it’s Earth’s way of couples showing affection. “You’re also courting me,” Mark states rather than asking. Despite his usual stoic expression, there seemed to be a flicker of happiness, relief that his actions were being reciprocated.

Oh, and I just know Mark said “Fuck it” to the majority of the Viltrum planet. They’d never accept Mark choosing a mate that couldn’t produce heirs, so Mark doesn’t mind snapping some necks and exploding some heads. Those people never mattered to him anyway. He was forced there by his father.

Even despite Reader being biologically unable to get pregnant, I HC Viltrumite Mark to have a major breeding kink. “I can’t put a baby in you, but I damn well will try. Fuck biology.” 🥰

CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO STRANGERS TO LOVERS???????

yup, yup, I'm eating this shit up!! The whole idea of reconnecting with someone you thought was gone forever? Gimme!! And it fits Viltrumite Mark so perfectly—the whole ‘re-learning how to be human,’ how to be soft and kind again, and the reader being the only one who gets through to him? Ugh, I’m weak 😭

And the courting?? Oh yeah, I see it. Mark being all in but totally missing the human side of it—showing up with a whole tree instead of flowers because in his mind ‘bigger is better’??? Like… I see him seeing all these humans and their tiny bouquets, and he thinks they’re not even trying 😭

Heh... about the breeding kink... yeah. You're one of mines. I feel this with every damn version of Mark. Maybe I'll wite smth with that 😌

[jjaehyunzs]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ adorable neighbor!jisung

⊹ can be read as a standalone pt. 2

you were sprawled out on your student neighbor’s couch, half-dazed from the suffocating heat, when you felt the weight of a stare settle on you. looking up, you caught jisung standing awkwardly in the doorway, his eyes wide and cheeks flushed like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

the ac in your apartment had broken, so you asked if you could stay there until maintenance showed up. with his roommate out, you figured you’d be keeping jisung company. the heat was brutal, thick in the air, and you hadn’t bothered with much clothing, just a pair of tiny sports shorts and a thin string top, no bra underneath. the fabric clung to you like a second skin, damp with sweat, leaving very little to the imagination.

“what?” you asked, smirking as you stretched lazily, arms lifting over your head, your top riding up just enough to expose a teasing sliver of your stomach.

jisung’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “i– i—” he stammered, eyes flicking away, only to snap back to your chest. “they just… look so fucking big” he blurted out.

you laughed, purposely arching your back, pushing your chest out. “so what? wanna get a better look?” he blinked fast, unsure whether this was real or some cruel fantasy. “i-i don’t know if i should…”

you tilted your head, smiling sweetly. “come here.”

he obeyed like he had no control over his body, settling beside you but leaving a shy gap. you shifted closer, brushing thighs, watching him tense like you’d lit a match to him.

his eyes stayed glued to your chest. you leaned in, letting your breasts spill forward slightly. you heard the shaky breath he took.

“can i…?” he asked, lifting a trembling hand, hovering inches from your chest. you nodded.

his touch was barely there, fingertips tracing the slope of your breast. your skin tingled from the contact, and you bit your lip, watching his face, the raw need and nervousness in his eyes. you guided his hand, pressing into his palm. he exhaled sharply, like he’d been holding his breath.

his thumb dragged over your nipple through the fabric. you gasped softly, and his eyes widened, stunned that he’d made you react.

“does… does that feel good?” jisung whispered, in awe.

“mhm…” you hummed, arching into his hand.

he was so careful, like he was scared you would push him away. both his hands cupped you now, clumsy but eager, like he wanted to memorize you.

he got bolder, cupping you more firmly, fingers brushing the curve of your breast. his hands traced your sides, venturing tentatively to the edge of your shirt, then under it.

“so fucking soft…” he muttered to himself.

you shivered under his hands, when jisung dragged his knuckles lightly up your waist, you couldn’t help the small moan that slipped out. his whole body jolted at the sound, he looked at you like he wasn’t sure if it he’d done something good.

“you can do whatever you want…” you murmured, reaching out to brush a piece of hair from his forehead.

he looked at you for a second. something in him shifted, like permission cracked him open. he let his hands roam higher, sliding up your ribs. fingertips trembling as they reached the underswell of your breasts, brushing lightly.

you climbed onto his lap, straddling him. his whole body stiffened beneath you. a tiny broken sound left his throat when you tugged your top down, baring yourself completely. he stared like he’d forgotten how to function.

“it’s okay” you whispered, your forehead brushing his.

you took his hand, guiding it back to your chest, fingers over your now fully exposed nipple. the skin-to-skin contact making him gasp.

you leaned back slightly, meeting his dazed eyes. “do you wanna kiss me there?” jisung nodded, frantic.

he lowered his head, breath ghosting over your skin before he pressed a soft, reverent kiss above your nipple. you whimpered, hands fisting in his shoulders.

jisung kissed you again, slower this time, trailing shaky kisses across your breast. his hands moved clumsily over your sides, thumbs brushing under the curve of your breasts.

he kissed lower, gaining confidence when you shuddered under him. then his tongue flicked out, tentative, tasting your nipple for the first time. when his mouth closed around your nipple and finally sucked it into his mouth, gentle and unsure, you gasped. he pulled back immediately, eyes wide.

“was that… okay?” jisung asked, voice cracking.

you smiled, heart aching at how sweet he was. “more than okay” you whispered, threading your fingers into his hair and pulling him back gently.

he groaned against your chest. one hand rolled your other nipple gently and your thighs clenched around his. you could feel him hard beneath you, straining in his shorts, pressed hot and needy between your legs.

jisung groaned against your chest. emboldened, he brought one hand up to gently roll your other nipple between his fingers. your thighs clenched around his, and you could feel him hard beneath you, straining in his shorts, pressed hot and needy between your legs.

“fuck…” he whispered, barely audible.

you grinned and shifted your weight slightly, grinding against his lap. he gasped, broken and high, hands at your waist, like he didn’t know where to put them.

“so sensitive” you teased, nipping at his earlobe. he shuddered.

his hands slid down to your hips, gripping hardly, trying so hard not to rut up against you but failing as his hips bucked up once.

“s-sorry—” he leaned back slightly.

“don’t be” you pulled him with a hand in his hair.

he kissed you again, messier now. his warm tongue, flicked and traced wet lines across your chest. he latched onto you with more hunger, sucking harder when he realized how much you liked it.

you moaned softly, grinding against him, and he whimpered into your skin, hips twitching helplessly beneath you.

jisung kissed his way back up to your mouth, and you captured him in a kiss, sloppy, uncoordinated, all teeth and tongue. a little clumsy but so honest it made your chest ache.

you rolled your hips again and he gasped into the kiss, hands digging into your sides.

“you’re… you’re driving me crazy,” he confessed, voice wrecked. “good,” you murmured, rocking down harder. you knew you were going to ruin him, and he was going to let you.

[delilahsturniolo]

⟡ ݁₊ welcome to the end of the world! (please leave your sanity at the door.)

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 . . . four friends: nick, matt, chris, and you—find themselves stuck together at the end of the world, trying to survive a zombie apocalypse with nothing but their wits, a questionable supply of snacks, and zero emotional maturity. you’re just trying to stay alive without losing your mind—or falling for someone on the team.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 . . . none!

EPILOGUE: AFTER THE STORM

read other parts here!

it’s been a year.

the world doesn’t look the same anymore. not even close. the landscape has changed, twisted by the chaos, by the storms of the apocalypse, and by the hands of those who tried, and failed to survive. but in the ruins, there’s something else growing. something stronger than the fear that once gripped you all. the bunker has turned into more than just a shelter. it’s become home. a home built from blood, sweat, and tears. but a home, all the same. matt and you rebuilt it, piece by piece. the others? they each found their role.

nick’s the scout. never strays too far, but always brings back something useful. sometimes, he comes back with nothing. sometimes, he comes back with enough to last weeks. he’s unpredictable. but you’ve learned to trust him.

chris? he’s a fighter. the one who keeps the peace when things get tense, but also the first one to jump into action when the horde gets too close. and now, he’s also found a strange sense of responsibility to lieutenant whiskers, who follows him around like a shadow.

lana is the one who changed the most. once, she was just a scared child holding a key that would change everything. now? she’s a fighter in her own right. smart, fearless, and surprisingly capable of holding her own against any threat that comes her way. she’s learned the way of this world and, in doing so, taught you all how to adapt.

and then, there’s you and matt.

you never stop fighting for each other. never stop loving each other, even when it feels like the world is stacked against you. when the days get dark and you start to lose hope, it’s matt’s hand in yours that keeps you grounded. and you do the same for him. you’ve seen him at his worst. and at his best. but now, the best feels like this, together. alive.

the little victories are what keep you going. today, you found a clean water source. tomorrow, you’ll figure out what to do with the extra food. every day, it’s about survival, but also, something else.

hope.

you and matt walk side by side, hands clasped, the silence between you more comfortable than it’s ever been. “do you ever think about the world before?” you ask. “all the time,” he says quietly. “but not in a way that hurts anymore. just… wondering.”

“wondering what?”

“if we can make it better this time.”

you stop walking. turn to him. “do you think we can?” he pulls you in close. brushes a strand of hair from your face. “maybe not all of it. but we’ll start with what we have.” you smile, leaning against him. “and what do we have?” he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“each other.”

and in that moment, the world is a little less broken. a little less cold. because you know, deep down, that you’ve found something worth fighting for, something that will keep you alive long after the storm has passed.

and whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

welcome to the end of the world, things can get pretty chaotic here. try not to fall in love,—oh wait…you already did. it’s the end of the world after all

© delilahsturniolo

💌: wowowwow hiii!! i can’t believe this series has come to an end! i literally feel like i actually lived this whole thing and i was so sad writing this :( this was such a change from what i usually write, i decided to be more creative and add some of my own humor and comedic twists into this so thank you all for being so supportive and letting me experiment!! i seriously hope you guys enjoyed this just as much as i did, i love you all so so much, lemme know if you’d like a spinoff of some sort in the future? 😉

xoxo, delilah.

[lost-in-thoughts03]

Falling for you // Hwang brothers

Previous part:

Summary: The late-night conversation with In-ho and a reflection on the conflicts you have witnessed between the brothers. You are already finding the answers, and all you need is a little alone time before letting go.

" And I'm terrified for the first time and the last time in my only life."

Warnings: Angst, reflection, heartbreak, self-doubt, hesitation, crying, guilt, clarification, confession, grammatical errors

Your phone buzzed in your hand, the name Mr. Angry bird (In-ho) flashing across the screen. You stared at it for a moment, debating whether to answer.

After the conversation with Ji-hye, your mind was a mess, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to hear his voice.

But you answered anyway.

“ Why the hell are you calling me so late?” You grumbled, flopping onto your bed.

A low chuckle came from the other end. “ Missed me already?”

You rolled your eyes. “ Not in the slightest.”

He hummed, unconvinced. “ Then why’d you pick it up?”

Damn it.

You had no comeback for that.

Instead, you groaned, rubbing your forehead. “ Ugh, whatever. Since you’re here, let me ask you something.”

“ Go ahead.” He said, amused.

You hesitated for a second before blurting out,

“ Why me?”

Silence.

Then, a slow, exasperated sigh from In-ho. “ Here we go…”

“ I’m serious, In-ho.” You pressed.

“ Why…” You close your eyes, holding back the ache in your throat,

“ Why didn’t you make a move before? All those years…you were always there but you never…said anything.”

“ Why did you keep choosing me even after all the times I pushed you away? Why…did you stay?”

The line goes quiet. You hear a shaky exhale from his end.

“ I was scared.” He admits, his voice breaking.

“ You were so young back then…and me? I was already…older. I fell in love with you at the worst possible time.”

“ You were just this… bright, lively young adult chasing dreams. And I— I didn’t want to be the selfish bastard who ruins that.”

You bite your lip hard, tears filling your eyes.

In-ho continues, “ I kept thinking…what would everyone say? What would the world say if a man like me…dared to love someone younger? I didn’t want to be that person.”

“ So…I hid it. Every damn day, I buried it. Every time you smiled at me, every time you ran to my side…I wanted to hold you, tell you how much I loved you. But I couldn’t.”

His voice cracks. “ I couldn’t risk your dreams…or you looking at me like I was some…creep. So, I stayed where I thought was safe—for you.”

Your lips trembled, “ Then why didn’t you give up…when I kept pushing you away?”

“ I tried.” In-ho laughs bitterly,

“ God, I tried so many times…but every time I walked away, I’d find myself worrying about you. Wondering if you ate, if you cried, if you were happy. I couldn’t stop.”

“ No matter how much it hurt, I loved you more than my own pride.”

Silence falls, heavy and suffocating.

“ You always choose me…” You whisper, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“ Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

“ I chose you then, I choose you now…and I’ll choose you every damn day.” In-ho breathes, voice breaking,

“ I don’t care about the world anymore. I don’t care if they call me names or judge me…All I care about is you…living. Smiling. Happy. Even if it’s not with me.”

Your sob escapes before you can stop it.

“ In-ho…don’t ever say not with you…don’t…” You plead, voice cracking.

He stays quiet, but you can hear him crying too.

He chuckled. “ Are you crying?”

“ No.” You lied.

“ Liar.”

You huffed, sniffling. “ You’re really annoying, you know that?”

“ And yet, you haven’t hung up.”

You sighed, pressing your forehead against your pillow. He was right. You could have ended the call at any time, but you didn’t.

Because despite all the confusion, despite the mess in your heart, there was one undeniable truth.

You didn’t want him to go.

“…Can I ask you something?” You murmured.

“ Of course.”

You hesitated. “ If I choose you…are you sure you won’t regret it?”

His response was immediate.

“ I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

A long silence stretched between you, filled only by the sound of your breathing.

Finally, you whispered, “ Okay.”

“…Okay?”

You exhaled. “ Okay.”

And though it wasn’t a confession, though it wasn’t the grand answer he might have wanted—In-ho smiled.

Because for now, it was enough.

The silence that followed your quiet "okay" felt different—heavy, but not suffocating. It was like the weight of uncertainty was shifting, making room for something new.

Something that scared you just as much as it intrigued you.

On the other end of the line, In-ho let out a slow breath, as if he had been holding it the entire time.

" Okay." He echoed, and you could hear the faintest smile in his voice.

" I can work with that."

You scoffed, rolling onto your back. " You sound too smug for someone who just got the vaguest acceptance in history."

He chuckled. " I'll take what I can get. Besides, you're not exactly the easiest person to convince, you know?"

You bit your lip.

He wasn’t wrong.

Your mind was still a mess, tangled with memories of Jun-ho and the feelings you had held onto for years.

But then there was In-ho—always there, always waiting.

His patience, his persistence…his unwavering certainty in you.

Maybe your heart wasn’t fully ready yet, but maybe…just maybe, it was trying to be.

" Y/n." He murmured, his voice softer now.

" I’m not rushing you. I just want you to know…I'm not going anywhere."

A lump formed in your throat. " Yeah, I know."

" Good." He said, his tone lighter again.

" Now, are you going to get some sleep, or do I have to come over there and tuck you in myself?"

You snorted. " You wouldn’t dare."

" Oh, I would. You underestimate my commitment to annoying you."

Rolling your eyes, you sighed. " Fine, fine. I’ll try to sleep."

" Try?"

" Shut up, In-ho."

He laughed, and somehow, the sound felt like home.

" Goodnight, sweetheart." He said, voice softer this time.

You closed your eyes, a small smile playing on your lips.

" Goodnight, In-ho."

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel so lost.

The call ended, but his words lingered—

“ I choose you now…and I’ll choose you every damn day.”

You sat there, phone resting on your lap, staring blankly at the floor as his voice replayed in your head—raw, vulnerable, full of years’ worth of love he tried so hard to hide.

And that’s when it hit you—hard.

It wasn’t Jun-ho who stayed.

It wasn’t Jun-ho who saw every version of you—broken, angry, hopeless—and chose to stay even when you pushed him away.

It was In-ho.

You used to believe that first love meant everything.

That the person you fell for first would always own the biggest part of your heart.

But…what did that even mean anymore?

What good was a love that stood still—paralyzed by fear, selfishness, or timing—while someone else bled for you every single day without asking for anything back?

Your chest clenched as fresh tears spilled, but this time…they weren’t just from heartbreak.

They were from guilt.

From relief.

From finally seeing the truth you kept blinding yourself from.

It was In-ho all along.

The man who chose silence over ruining your dreams.

The man who stood at the sidelines, loving you quietly, waiting for you to grow into the person you are now.

The man who, even now, was ready to disappear just to save you.

Your fingers curled into your chest as if trying to hold your heart together.

You sobbed—not because of the pain—but because of the realization:

You’ve already found your home. You’ve already found your person. And he’s been there this entire time...waiting.

You whispered into the empty room, voice shaking,

“ I…I’m so stupid…I kept chasing someone who didn’t stay, while the one who did…I kept pushing him away.”

The moonlight cast soft shadows across your face as you closed your eyes, breathing deeply.

For the first time, you weren’t confused.

You weren’t torn.

You knew who your heart was calling out for.

“ In-ho…it’s you. It’s always been you.”

You smiled through your tears, gripping your phone tightly, whispering into the night—hoping he’d hear you somehow.

“ Wait for me…I’ll tell you soon. I promise…I’ll choose you too.”

...

In-ho sat on the edge of his bed, phone still clutched in his trembling hands. His heart was pounding—not from excitement, not from relief—but from fear.

Your words replayed in his mind, over and over, like a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

" Why didn’t you make a move before?"

" Why do you keep choosing me, even when I pushed you away?"

He answered honestly.

But something about the way you asked…it didn’t sit right with him.

Like there was something you weren’t saying.

With a deep, shuddering breath, he ran a hand down his face, trying to clear his thoughts.

The weight of everything—of you, of Jun-ho, of the years he spent loving you in silence—was suffocating him.

A soft knock at his door broke through his spiraling thoughts.

" In-ho." His mother’s gentle voice came before she pushed the door open.

She carried a small cup of steaming tea, the familiar scent of chamomile filling the air.

“ You’re still awake?” She asked, setting the cup down on his nightstand.

“ You look…troubled.”

In-ho let out a dry chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “ That obvious, huh?”

His mother sat beside him, hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes—soft, understanding—watching him closely.

“ Something’s on your mind.” She said simply.

“ And I have a feeling I already know what it is.”

In-ho swallowed.

His mother had always been perceptive.

There was no use hiding it.

With a deep sigh, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “ Mom…what if…what if I’m setting myself up to lose?”

His mother tilted her head. “ Lose what, my son?”

In-ho let out a shaky breath. “ Her.”

Her expression didn’t change, but he saw the way her fingers twitched slightly—like she had expected this but still wasn’t sure how to approach it.

“ I love her, Eomma.” He admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

“ I loved her then, I love her now, and I—” His voice caught, emotions swelling in his chest.

“ I don’t know what to do anymore.”

His mother sighed, reaching over to place a warm hand on his knee. “ In-ho… I knew.”

He lifted his head sharply, eyes wide. “ You—”

“ I knew.” She repeated with a soft, bittersweet smile.

“ I saw it before you ever said anything. The way you looked at her, the way your whole face changed when she was around. You never had to tell me, my dear. A mother knows.”

In-ho exhaled shakily. “ Then you also know…she loved Jun-ho first.”

His mother’s expression darkened slightly, sadness creeping into her eyes. “ Yes.”

“ Then tell me, Eomma…what do I do?” He pleaded.

“ What if—what if after everything, after all these years, she still chooses him?”

His mother took a long moment before responding.

She reached out, taking his hands in hers.

“ In-ho…love is not about winning or losing.”

He clenched his jaw. “ Then what is it?”

“ It’s about giving.” She said softly.

“ Giving, even when there’s no certainty of receiving. You have already given her so much, my son."

" And if she chooses you, it will not be because you fought for her—it will be because she wants to be with you. That is love.”

In-ho’s breath hitched.

“ But…” She continued, hesitating now.

“ I also know that Jun-ho…he struggled with this too.”

In-ho stiffened. “ What?”

His mother’s expression was pained.

“ When he saw you two kiss…he was devastated. He came home drunk, crying, rambling about how he should’ve known, how he should’ve realized sooner."

" And then… he told me.”

“ Told you what?” In-ho demanded.

“ That you love her.”

Silence.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears.

Jun-ho knew.

He had known.

Even before In-ho admitted it to himself, even before he gathered the courage to act on his feelings, Jun-ho knew.

“ He was hurting.” His mother murmured.

“ And when I saw the bruise on your face after…I worried. I worried that my sons were breaking apart over love.”

In-ho clenched his fists. “ We were. We still might be.”

His mother shook her head. “ Not if you both choose to hold onto what truly matters.”

In-ho swallowed thickly, his throat burning. “And what if what matters most to me…is her?”

His mother’s eyes softened even more.

“ Then you wait. You wait for her to find her way. And if she chooses you, In-ho…it won’t be because of guilt, or because you pushed her."

" It will be because she truly wants to be with you.”

A tear slipped down In-ho’s cheek before he could stop it.

He was so scared.

Scared that you’d choose Jun-ho.

Scared that he would lose his brother again.

Scared that the love he carried for so many years would never be fully returned.

His mother squeezed his hands gently.

“ Whatever happens, my son…love her in a way that doesn’t make her feel like she’s a prize to be won. Love her in a way that makes her feel free.”

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

And for the first time in a long time…he let himself believe that maybe—just maybe—love wasn’t about who deserved whom.

Maybe it was about who stayed—who fought, who endured, and who was willing to love without conditions.

And he already knew his answer.

N/A: Y/n and Jun-ho met when they were 16. In-ho, on the other hand, began to like her when she reached her legal age—around the time Y/n was in her twenties. (I need to clarify this to avoid misunderstandings between the characters)

Y/n and Jun-ho's age right now: 23 (College students)

In-ho's age right now: 30 (I need to lower down his age to make it more accurate)

Tags: @maah-sama @colorwastaken @astronomicalastro-blog1 @nina357 @frontwomann

See u in part 22! 🔥

[gotta-winwin]

the ex | c.sc

⭐ starring: choi seungcheol 💌 genre: angst, comfort | wc: 1.2k 

💬 preview: both you and seungcheol grapple with the reality of your relationship and the aftermath of it.

cw/tw: ex!seungcheol, mentions of depression and feeling stuck in time, themes of regret, the inability to save each other, a bit of seungcheol bashing (just a tad), alternate povs, light swearing

🪽fic rating: pg13  ☁️ masterlist & a/n: the whole theme of this event collection are stories inspired by my own personal experiences with people. this one is : the ex. the biggest thanks to tara (@diamonddaze01 ) for betaing this piece... i love you so much <3

now playing: the ex's playlist

this is an addition to remember them…?, a celebration event for svt’s 10th anniversary. 

The longer you stay, the deeper it hurts. 

At least, that’s what Seungcheol had thought at first. Ever since he laid eyes on you, there had been a countdown. To what, he hadn’t known, yet the clock continued to tick towards something. 

The relationship had been a quick, burning rocket shooting into the sky before unceremoniously bursting into flames above the ocean. The timeline of it all had barely lasted a few months, and yet, Seungcheol still found himself mourning it, ten months later. 

Seungcheol repeats to himself that you’re not really gone. Not really. That all if it had just been a blip in his universe. He pretends he never tore your soul open and left you there, bleeding on the sidewalk. 

You sit alone at your local cafe, nursing a cup of iced coffee, the ice cubes swirling in your drink. You stare at Seungcheol’s apartment down the street and you pretend you’re not still confused about it all. 

Because even when you were sleeping next to him in bed, Seungcheol had never really let you in at all. 

“Tell me something real.” You had asked, tracing shapes on his arm. “Tell me something true.” 

He hummed, but he refused to meet your eyes. “Why?”

“I’ve told you so much about me.” And it was true. You had told him all your haunts, all your fears, your regrets. Had it been too much to expect him to do the same? 

He says a few words about his family back at home and goes quiet again. 

You’re scared to ask for more. 

Ten months later, you’re proud of how far you’ve come. You can barely remember the inflections and tones of his voice now, how he used to prefer calling you baby instead of your actual name. The image of him hovering above you in bed still reeks like his scent on your bedsheets late at night, but you expect it always will. 

After all, there are some leftovers you can never get rid of. 

Seungcheol figures it’d bring you great joy if you knew how much you still haunted him. 

He spends most of his nights staring at your old messages on his phone, rereading the memories of when you were both still in love. 

He avoids his friends when they call. You never liked them much anyways. 

“Can you come see me tomorrow?” Your voice crackles over the phone. “I miss you.” 

He remembers how his eyes were more concentrated on the game in front of him. “I can’t. Busy tomorrow. Next week, okay?” 

“Okay.”

His friends yell his name and he mutters a quick goodbye before ending the call. 

He remembers how he had told his friends he loved you because you were the easiest girlfriend to keep happy. He feels like throwing up. 

You pass his apartment again on your way to therapy. It’s inevitable, he lives in the middle of town, and although your heart no longer revolves around the area, your life still does. 

You stare at his apartment unit’s balcony as the bus rolls to a stop at the red light, and you’re suddenly hit with the realization that you had never once fought him for anything. 

There’s a lot of things you regret about Seungcheol, but never telling him how much he had hurt you was the biggest regret of them all. 

You remember the first and only time you had ever asked him for something. 

“Hey. I really need you to make more time for me. It’s really annoying that we’re dating and you only contact me once every 16 hours. Or how we only ever go to your apartment for ‘dates.’ How when I get there you don’t even speak to me.”

You remember sending the text with shaky hands. 

You waited for 12 hours before his response came. 

“Sorry. I’m working through a lot. I didn’t want to tell you but I haven’t been in a great mental space lately.” 

You know it shouldn't have, but his answer pissed you off. You were quietly rotting on the inside, and yet you still found time to love him. Why couldn’t he? You remember reading too much into the text. How he couldn’t even bother to type out the I’m of ‘I’m sorry.’ 

That was the biggest catalyst, you guessed. You had always read too much into things— thought too much. And Seungcheol had never really thought at all. 

You know now that the two of you were doomed from the first place. Two wrongs couldn’t make a right. Two shattered people barely had enough energy to patch themselves up, let alone fix someone else.

Seungcheol remembers how you left. Silently, like you were the entire time he had known you. 

“Hey. I think we’re better off as friends. I’m in no place to be in a relationship right now.” A simple text. Even at the end of it all, you were still taking the blame. 

“I agree.” He had sent back. “I’ll always be here if you need me.” It had sounded more like a courtesy than something he had actually meant. 

It’s funny. Seungcheol could remember every little insignificant detail about the time he had known you. Yet he still couldn’t remember the last time he had seen you. 

He picks up another bottle of rum and pours himself a glass. It burns as he forces himself to swallow it down. Perhaps it was Karma's sense of humor, for the taste of alcohol also reminded him of you. How you hated it whenever he drank. The look on your face when he had opened his fridge for food and revealed the rows of whiskey sitting on the shelf. 

You had always said he’d drink himself to death if he could. He had ignored it then, and he ignores it now. 

After all, he’s drinking bottled love now. 

You imagine meeting him in the grocery store ten years down the line. The thought of it doesn’t make you want to throw up and die anymore. 

You find yourself sincerely hoping he gets everything he has ever wanted. You pray he’ll grow up to fix himself– to achieve that dream he had drowned within him with alcohol and cigarette smoke. 

You still can’t tell how Seungcheol had contributed to your character development. Maybe he didn’t. But he did teach you exactly how not to be loved, and he also taught you to fight for the love you deserve. 

You see him hovering in your mind when you tell your boyfriend you want to see him more often. You see yourself erasing him when your boyfriend agrees and tells you he’ll appreciate it if you let him know about stuff like this in the future. Because those who love you would never make you feel as if you were too much. 

Seungcheol had you at your lowest. And you supposed there’s a bit of wretched beauty in that. 

author’s note:

a letter to the boy behind this story, 

hi k,

i really do hope you’re better now. that whatever demons you were fighting when you were holding me have long since been dispelled. i have empathy for you in my heart but you really were a shit person to love.

and maybe i didn’t really love you. maybe i latched onto the only person who would give me any type of affection at my weakest moment. maybe. but i still tried to love you. 

so, despite the fact that i can still feel your weight on me some nights in bed, i’ve forgotten you. thank fucking god. 

i hear you’re somewhere in california now. good. i remember when that used to be both our goals. how we always said you’d direct the films for the scripts i’ve written. i’m glad that didn’t happen. but i’m glad its still your dream and i’m glad you got it. 

and i have a lot to be bitter and angry with you about, but i rest easy knowing i’m nothing like the girl you knew, and that if we crossed past each other in the street, i’d walk away with zero weight on my chest while you’d turn your head and wonder what it’d be like walking next to me at my best.  and “i’ll always be here if you need me,” please, don’t make me laugh. you were barely there for me when you loved me.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Bioweapon -Oneshot

Warnings: dubcon, rough sex, sex pollen, language, violence

Word count: 2053

**I usually don't like this version of sex pollen!stories, but this was the first draft I'd ever written of it for Steve so I thought I'd post it and see what y'all think.**

“FUCK!”

The scream reverberated through the hallway. Y/N jumped off her bed and ran out the door to see what was going on. When she wrenched her door open she was unprepared for the sight before her. Down the hall was Steve, still in his full Captain America gear, fighting off four Avengers. Bucky was wrestling him, trying to get him down on the ground, with Natasha on Steve’s back, tasing him repeatedly. Clint was down on the floor holding on to one of Steve’s legs like a child to slow him down, and Scott was flattened out cold on the floor ten feet back.

“What is going on?” Y/N yelled out.

“NO! Y/N get back in your room!” Natasha yelled back at her as she started hitting Steve in the head. With everything that was going on to bring Steve down it seemed to be having a Hulk-like effect in only making him more angry and determined. When he heard Y/N’s voice his eyes met hers and she shrunk back. They were bloodshot, his pupils almost completely encompassing the blue of his eyes and razor focused only on her.

“Get back in your room and bolt the door!” Bucky yelled at her as he punched Steve in the gut, making Steve double over. Y/N’s mind was not moving fast enough to understand and Bucky used the moment he distracted Steve to haul himself towards her and push her back inside, locking the door behind him.

“Ow! Bucky what the hell?” Y/N yelped as she almost toppled over. “What’s happening? What’s wrong with Steve?”

Bucky tried to catch his breath as he braced himself against the door. “He got hit with some kind of bioweapon on the mission.” Y/N’s eyes widened. “He seemed fine at first, but then he started becoming angry, and overly violent, saying how we had to get home right then. Then he…” Bucky paused and looked anywhere but her.

“What Buck?” Y/N asked, her brow furrowing.

A heavy thud sounded outside the door. Bucky closed his eyes and rushed out, “He jerked off in the Quinjet four times on the way home, yelling your name.”

Y/N’s head shook. “He…what?” She laughed at the absurdity.

“We think the bioweapon is some kind of sexual stimulant. Makes the person who breathes it extremely aroused. And all he wants is you,” Bucky sighed. “He’s had a major crush on you for a while now, so I’m sure that’s why it’s making him desperate.”

“Crush on me? Steve? No way, we…I…” Y/N couldn’t understand what was happening.

“You’re so oblivious,” Bucky smirked and rolled his eyes. A heavy punch landed into the door, making Bucky jerk forward and then brace himself harder against it.

“Buck, open the door, now,” Steve’s voice rang out. After such a struggle his voice was strangely calm, which unnerved her.

“No way, punk! You gotta get some help first!” Bucky yelled back at him. He silently gestured to Y/N to go hide. She nodded as she turned and booked it to her closet, softly closing the door and burying herself deep into her hanging clothes.

“Move,” Steve said as his only warning. Y/N heard a loud bang and some more struggling as Bucky and Steve fought each other in her room. She held her hand over her mouth to stop herself from making any noise, trying to calm her breathing. He was coming for her. The thought scared and thrilled her at the same time.

A grunt and another loud thud reverberated on the floor and then it was quiet. Y/N stayed still, barely breathing. She heard footsteps head towards her bathroom, then around her room, and then towards the closet. He had beat Bucky. He was coming. She shrunk as much as she could against the wall, trying to remember some of the training she’d gone through, although she knew it was no use. The door opened and he stepped in.

“I can hear your heartbeat, Y/N,” Steve murmured. She was shaking at that point, the adrenaline licking through her body. “And I can smell you,” he said, then his hands plunged through the clothes and heaved her out of the closet.

“STEVE!” Y/N screamed as she tried to twist away from him. She struggled hard, gasping when she saw Bucky laying on her bedroom floor unconscious. He dragged her from her room and through the hallway where she saw Natasha, Clint and Scott all unconscious as well. He brought her to his room and slammed the door behind him.

“Friday, code 704,” Steve said, and Y/N heard the sliding of metal that sealed them into the room. Steve turned towards his bed and then threw her onto it.

“Steve, wait, please,” Y/N pleaded, holding her hands in front of her. “This isn’t you. It’s the bioweapon, okay? You—”

Steve was already stripping out of his uniform and breathing heavily. “I know it’s not,” he grunted as he freed his cock and started stroking himself. Y/N’s breath rushed out in a shudder at the size of him. “But I can’t stop,” he said, a hint of the regular, sweet Steve in his tone. “It’s like my mind is screaming at me to stop, but my body won’t comply,” he said as he reached towards her, yanking her down by her ankle and starting to take off her sleep shorts.

Y/N was scared, but she couldn’t imagine what that felt like, to have no control over yourself, knowing you were going to hurt someone. “Hey,” she said softly and reached up towards him. He paused as he looked at her. Her hands went to his face, cupping his cheeks, her thumbs sweeping over his cheekbones slowly. “I get it, and it’s okay,” she said, reassuring him. Steve took a shaky breath as he stared at her. “I’m sure this isn’t how you wanted it. It’s not how I wanted it. But I need you to understand that it’s okay, this is okay, I’m okay,” she said as she sat up and leaned closer to his face. “I want this.” Steve’s face twisted into a pained expression. “You’re not hurting me. Let’s get you better, alright?” Y/N leaned forward again until she brushed her nose against his. “I’m all yours.”

That was enough for Steve to finally succumb as the last shred of his sanity snapped. He pushed forward and kissed her hard, making her whimper against his mouth. He ripped her clothes from her body and made her lay down as he climbed on top of her, his kiss becoming even more demanding as he plunged his tongue into her mouth to taste her. Y/N was trying to keep up, but the sensations of him were everywhere. His hands couldn’t seem to decide where to land so he felt her everywhere. His lips wanted to stay kissing her but his mouth slipped down her jaw to her neck, sucking and nipping at her skin.

One of his hands made it to between her legs and his fingers instantly found her clit, rubbing and flicking it harshly. Y/N groaned and hissed at his rough treatment, her hips bucking wildly in his grasp. His thumb took over her clit as his other fingers found her pussy and entered her. Y/N was embarrassed by how wet she was already, but Steve moaned at the feeling of her pussy walls fluttering around his fingers. He worked her up into her first orgasm, her body stiffening and shaking as she came.

“Shit, babes,” Steve groaned as he pulled his fingers out and licked them clean. He then lined himself up with her entrance. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he started to push into her. Y/N’s mouth dropped open as her back arched. He was much thicker and longer than she had ever had before, and it made her worry as he struggled to get inside her. Y/N reached down and started rubbing her clit to help. “Fuck, that’s hot,” Steve said, and pushed all the way into her in a hard thrust.

“AH!” Y/N screamed. The stretch was painful, and she could feel the tears start stinging the corners of her eyes. Steve’s face twisted in pain again and he stayed still inside her as his hands reached for her breasts, tugging at her nipples with his fingers and then dipping his head to kiss and suck at them.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry, babes,” he whimpered as he started to rut into her.

Y/N stifled a sob as the pleasure he applied to her nipples helped ease the pain slightly. She continued to rub her clit as his ruts became full thrusts. “I’m okay, Steve,” she said, her voice trembling.

Steve shook his head as he pressed his forehead against hers. When her tears fell he quickly kissed them away, his own eyes becoming glossy. He caressed her face with his nose and lips as she felt the tightening deep within her start fast. She’d never been so filled before, and with his stamina his hips never stopped, constantly pushing her pussy to its limits and drawing out every involuntary sound he could from her mouth.  His pace staggered as she ran her fingers through his hair with her free hand and their breaths fanned each others’ faces. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” Steve groaned as his hips rolled into hers.

“Cum for me, Steve,” Y/N replied, her voice low as her own climax neared. Steve kissed her again, all tongue and teeth as he chased his release. Y/N sucked on his tongue and he let out a broken whine. His thrusts finally hit that spot inside her just right and she stiffened again, cumming with a cry against his mouth. Her pussy squeezed him into his release and his cum filled her as he continued to thrust, making a mess on her hips, his hips and all over his bed.

He slowly came to a stop, panting breaths huffing against her cheek as they both came down from the combined high. Y/N’s hips ached as he still throbbed inside her. Steve’s eyes found hers, and she could see the blue again. “You’re back,” she whispered, a small half smile on her face.

Steve snorted and shook his head before planting kisses all over her face. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry I hurt you. I never meant for it to be like this…”

“I know you didn’t. I told you, it’s okay,” Y/N said, though a few more tears fell from the sides of her eyes. “I’m just glad you’re better now.”

Steve chuckled lightly, the shaking of his torso making her wince a little. “Shit, I’m sorry, let me just…” he slowly started to pull out of her, the movement making her hiss again as his pulling out created a gush onto the bed below them. “Jesus, that’s…ugh,” Steve’s brow furrowed.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on his face, her legs closing as she felt him ooze out of her. “God I need a shower. But I don’t think I can walk.”

Steve’s eyes flashed with a little pride, a smirk pulling at his lips. “I’ll help you,” he said as he pulled away. He tucked his arms underneath her and lifted her up, walking her over to his bathroom. “I know this has all been pretty traumatic, but I hope you know that I do really like you, Y/N,” Steve said as he fumbled with the shower faucet, his other arm still supporting her leaning against him.

“I like you, too,” Y/N said softly, looking up at him.

Steve smiled as he set her down on the bench he had in his shower, letting the warm water run over her. “I’m going to make sure everybody’s okay, then I’ll be right back.”

Y/N nodded. “Yes Captain.”

Steve paused, his eyes widening. “Don’t start,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her. Y/N giggled as she gave him a salute. He rolled his eyes and then left her alone. They were going to have a lot to figure out after this.

[itsnesss]

𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | oliver bearman × fem!reader

summary | you’re still haunted by a past love, unsure how to move forward, but ollie waits

warnings | fluff, emotional vulnerability, past toxic relationship, self-worth issues, mentions of unresolved trauma

word count | 0.8 k

🖇️ sctw album 🖇️ more ob87

The night seems endless. The dim lights of the cloudy sky barely reflect off the windshield, and the silence in the car is thick, as if something else is sitting between you two.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye as he takes a smooth turn, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. Sometimes he taps the steering wheel with his fingers, like the movement helps him think or calm down. But this time, he doesn’t seem nervous. Just attentive. Waiting for you.

"Do you want music?" he asks, breaking the silence in a soft voice.

"No... It’s fine like this," you murmur, because any song now would be too much. It would make you feel something you’re not ready to hold.

Because you’re on the edge. All the time.

Since he showed up in your life, you’ve felt like you’re walking on a tightrope between what you could have with him and everything you haven’t let go of yet.

"I tried to be what he thought I was, I wasn't."

That thought keeps coming back like an old wound that still hurts when the weather changes. You curl up against the window, not looking at Ollie. You’re afraid of what he might see if he looks at you too much. Afraid that he might discover that sometimes you still hear *his* voice in your head. That you still wonder if the problem was you.

Your ex wasn’t cruel. Not like the stories other people tell. He didn’t yell at you or break you apart... at least not directly. His was slower, subtler. A collection of small disappointments that you absorbed as if your worth depended on how much you could endure. You molded yourself to like him. You changed your loud laughs for silences, your ideas for concessions, your boundaries for excuses. And when he left you in the end, you didn’t even cry. You just felt empty.

Now Ollie.

Sweet, patient, and with those eyes that always seem to see more than you want to show.

When he stops at a lookout point by the sea, everything becomes even quieter. You only hear the distant sound of the waves and your shallow breathing.

He turns off the engine.

"I know it’s not easy," he says without looking at you. "And maybe I’m asking you for something you’re not ready to give."

You don’t know what to say. You’re not even sure there’s a right answer. Part of you wants to ask him to stay. Another part feels like you don’t deserve it.

"I don’t want to hurt you," you whisper, and for the first time, you say it out loud. Something real. Raw. Honest.

He nods, but doesn’t pull away.

"Then don’t," he replies with a simplicity that disarms you. "Just... tell me the truth. That’s enough for me."

And so you speak.

Of your past. Of how you got lost in a relationship that seemed like love but was slowly draining you. Of how you learned to lock your emotions away in boxes you never opened. Of how you feel now with him. Scared. Confused. Tempted. And also alive. Because he makes you feel all of that together, and that’s what overwhelms you.

He listens.

Without interrupting. Without judging. He just listens.

And when you finish, when your voice breaks and the tears blur your vision, he doesn’t say "everything will be fine" or try to fix you. He simply leans toward you, carefully, and presses his forehead against yours.

"I’m not going to force you. Or rush you. I just want to walk with you, even if it’s slow."

The tears surprise you. Not because of sadness, but because of relief.

Because no one had ever offered you love like that: without conditions, without hurry, without demands.

"I guess I never healed right... Maybe it's a green light, but I can’t go."

Yes. You’re broken in some places. But maybe you don’t need to be whole to move forward. Maybe something can be built from that honesty.

He looks at you. And for the first time in a long time, your eyes don’t look away.

"I want to try," you say. "I don’t know how, or how long. But I want to."

He smiles. A soft smile, small, but enough to make you feel like you’re worth it. Even with your broken pieces.

You don’t kiss that night.

It doesn’t matter.

Sometimes, the real start of something isn’t a kiss, or a promise, or a certainty. Sometimes, it’s simply staying. In silence. Together. Waiting for the moment when you can cross that emotional stoplight without fear.

And Ollie, you know, will be there when that happens.

Because he doesn’t need you to run.

He just wants you to take his hand when you're ready and say: now, yes.

tags | @ebkitty

[01zfan]

i love this account, i love riize, i love writing for riize, and i love writing for you guys. but it has gotten to a point in my life where i feel like this is taking away focus from the writing i need to be doing in my life. i have also been distracted from things in my life that i need to start focusing on. so i say with an extremely heavy heart that 01zfan is officially closed.

when i started this account a little over a year ago i was going through some stuff. not to overshare all the dramatic details of my life but the main reason i started this account was because i was going through a major crisis with my screenplay. i was so scared because i was at a point where writing it was requiring a little more brain power than what i was used to, and agh. it just became easier to write fic especially for riize than to focus on anything else.

somewhere along the way, this account became kind of like a lifeline for me and my love for writing. you guys really really helped me alot with how i want things to be put out and how i want my stories to be told. whether i have or haven't become a better writer here is up for debate, but i can say i have gotten better at portraying certain concepts and the creative outlet i had on this account was truly amazing and one of a kind. it's always been nice receiving askz and comments about my work and seeing that you guys understood my vision and such. this has been such a validating experience for me as someone who wants to share stories with the world.

for a while i did entertain the idea of writing way less here, or just becoming a drabble esque account, but that doesn't work for me either. i know i am leaving with two stories unfinished, but i think that my desire to stay on this account will keep me from ever finishing them. i am unfortunately the type of person that puts my all into one thing, and if i'm still active on this account longer in any capacity i'd be putting my all into this instead of things i need to be doing.

although i will be gone, don't be sad! the writing community for riize is so plentiful and talented and growing everyday. you guys won’t even notice i'm gone heh. i hope riize’s new comeback will bring creative and good writers to the community. i really do hate leaving you guys without the final two installations of rock the house, but i do think now is my time to go. i’m just happy i was able to post the things in my drafts for you guys and do one final commission. i hope you guys are also happy with the fics i have already written. a year and some change but we did so much!

but i really really want to say i'm really grateful for everyone here. the hardest part about leaving is leaving you guys without fics on every sunday and/or thursday! i want to thank you all, because you guys are the first people that made me realize my writing is worth something tangible and something worth developing and working on. i'm grateful for you guys just as i'm grateful for riize for motivating me to do all of these crazy writings. thank you guys truly. i am so grateful. thank you for letting me be 01zfan.

(just because i am gone, doesn't mean that i won't be around. i do love to indulge in fic every now and then and i've made good friends on here that i want to continue to support. and once again, i have two unfinished stories that i really want to share with you guys. maybe. just maybe they will be here. maybe.)