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604to647 · 2 days ago

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Yes, yes, the Competency - YOU👏🏻GET👏🏻IT👏🏻WYM👏🏻🤭🤭🤭 Hang on, let me blow up that pic for you so we can maybe all take a moment to imagine it a bit more:

I mean 😫😫😫

Omigod, you're totally in my mind 🥰🥰- I had the same thought about how they could do any actual typing during sexting 😂😂😂 I imagine that voice dictation must come into play ("Alexa, text Tim that I'm about to come" 😂😂😂😜😜😂) and plus, Tim is so very good at everything he does, right? 🤭🤭🤭

I'm so, so happy you enjoyed their exploits in this instalment!! They are both quite needy in this but not just for the physical stuff, also for the comfort of one another - I had to write them some fluff to tie them through until the next day 🥹 Thank you so much again for reading and always leaving me such nice comments - they make me do a little happy dance each time 😘😘

Training Days

4.6K (includes 8 screenshots, 1 video) / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: Detective Rockford leaves for a weeklong tactical training course and you miss him something fierce.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Needy!reader, established relationship, petnames as usual (Shutterbug, gorgeous, baby), sexting, video phone sex, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, lingerie, sex toys, pussy and penis pronouns (equality!). ✨Feelings✨

A/N: I started this WIP a while ago, but really got inspired to work on it when I saw @jolapeno's Dear-uary challenge - the epistolary portion ended up really pulling the story together! And by pulling it together, I mean, made it really horny 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🫣 This is another instalment of The Rockford Portfolio, but as always, can be read standalone (for those that do read the series, this one can fall anywhere in their timeline). The toy Shutterbug has is something like this or this, in case anyone was curious 🤷🏻‍♀️😉

Dividers by @saradika-graphics / Series Masterlist / This is the second fic I wrote for the challenge - the first was for Modern!Pero Tovar 🤭

“Come back to me safe, Detective Rockford.”

“Nothing could keep me from you, Shutterbug. I love you.”

The oft spoken declaration of love and reassurance had been recited just four days earlier when Tim left town for a mandatory weeklong tactical training course, but to you it feels like forever ago.

You had missed him immediately, of course. The first day felt manageable – the only evidence of Tim’s absence had been the decrease in texts from him during the day, which made sense. The night had been a different matter; Tim had called to say goodnight after getting back late from a team dinner, and the two of you chatted about your days in an all too quick conversation before Detective Rockford was forced to bed early for what you considered an ungodly start to training the next day: 4 a.m. (Ugh.) You woke to find a good morning text from him expressing similar sentiments that made you smile.

The second day your detective was gone dragged just as slowly, but was made worse by Tim’s long and physically taxing day, and your own late hours at the office. There had been no messaging during the day and you missed his call while on the subway home. When you listened to Tim’s voicemail about how the team had run tactical scenarios for fifteen hours straight and though he missed you terribly, he needed to crash, you understood; still, you felt yourself tearing up, heart sinking from the disappointment of having to wait another day for a live connection. You made do with listening to Detective Rockford's message a few more times before bed, but the recording was a poor imitation of the real baritone honey that you’re used to having in your ear every night.

Though it’s not unheard of for Tim to come home after you’ve gone to sleep or leave for duty in the middle of the night, never has your bed felt quite as empty as it does now with him having been gone for several days in a row. You miss the warmth of your detective’s presence and the way he crowds your side of the bed. Maybe it’s your imagination but even the scent of his manly musk on your sheets feels too faint; as if in his absence, evidence of his claim to your bed is evaporating at an all too rapid rate. You toss and turn, sleeping horribly knowing that this newly settled foreignness over your home won’t be lifted anytime soon.

You miss seeing your hulk of a man’s frame take up space in your shared apartment - it feels too open and empty without him here. More than anything, you long desperately to hear the sweet endearments he coos – Shutterbug, baby, gorgeous; what you wouldn’t give to feel them murmured against your lips. Oh, his lips. You miss his lips. And his hands - those strong hands with the thick veins that pop and thrum when he grabs you by the waist, or tugs on your hair with his deepening his kisses, or slaps your ass when he’s rutting into you from behind… sigh.

You’re also ovulating and horny as hell.

Relief had nearly been within your grasp last night.

After another day of very little contact, you settled into bed wearing one of Tim’s oversized band t-shirts that mercifully still held his intoxicating scent, opening up your text messages to ogle the pictures he had sent during the day. The first few pictures were of your detective and a few of his fellow trainees in full tactical gear; it was easy to pick out Tim’s towering stance amongst the sea of Kevlar. You squirmed as your eyes raked over his enormous build, made even more mountainous with the added padding of his black regulation jacket; pinching your screen, you zoomed in on Tim’s thick trunk, now accentuated by a pulled tight tactical vest that added even more bulk with its various fastened straps, clips, and pockets bulging with equipment to be handled by Tim’s skillful hands.

Oh, hands.

You might have stared too long at that one photo with Tim’s hands in fingerless gloves tightening the strap of his thigh holster; pulse racing, your head involuntarily tipped back onto your pillow with a shaky exhale, imaging how the rough material of those gloves might feel like against your warm, soft skin.

The second set of sent pictures must have been taken later in the day when it was warmer because in them, Tim had ditched the jacket and tac vest in favour of a tight-fitting black t-shirt and dark leather holster. The sleeves of the t-shirt barely contained his bulging arms - the valiant attempt by the cotton to stretch itself thin over the flex of Detective Rockford’s muscles a true testament to the skill of the shirt’s seamstress. Your eyes widened to see that new holster struggling in its task the same way the one that currently hangs on your bedpost often does - banded taut across Tim’s expansive frame, straining to leash in all that power Detective Rockford houses in his hard chest.

You might have started to drool a little when you noticed the fully loaded utility belt slung on Tim’s hips and how it did nothing to hide how well his tactical pants fit his muscular form.

But it’s the last picture of the bunch that had you truly sweating; in it, Tim’s holding his firearm with both hands, arms held straight out at the ready, the veins of his forearms and hands protruding boldly from the flex of his beefy arms. Everything about the photo exuded control, skill, competency. Your mouth suddenly felt very dry even as your pussy gushed; before you could register its actions, your free hand skimmed up past the hem of Tim’s t-shirt, delicate fingers starting to rub soft circles over the front of your already drenched panties as you gawked at the very picture of dominance and prowess projecting from your screen.

Soon, you found yourself typing out a message to the very man occupying all your thoughts.

With a little cry of frustration, you tossed your phone over to Tim’s empty side of the bed and flung yourself dramatically facedown onto your pillow. In resignation, you reached blindly into your nightstand to fish out your vibrator, positive that you were too wound up and sad to be able to eek out anything but the most fleeting, unsatisfying orgasm.

Twenty frustrating minutes later, you took no pleasure (literally!) in being right as you fell into another fitful sleep.

---

Today, you’re inconsolable. Despondent. Desperate.

Your work day crawls along and you somehow manage to complete all your tasks even though you’re wallowing, beyond distracted and melancholy. All day long you ache for Tim’s touch – every inch of your body yearns for his sweet kisses and the way only he knows how to handle you rough or tender. Your ears muffle most incoming sounds, filled instead with the imagined low growls of your detective that vibrate through your chest when his face is buried in your tits and his muffled moans that travel up to your belly when he’s deep between your legs.

You miss Tim’s arms wrapping and crisscrossing on your tummy when he hugs you from behind and his soft warm breath against your neck as he nuzzles in, telling you how much he’s missed you all day. You miss the way he knows exactly what he’s doing when he flutters kisses down the nape of your neck, bear paw hands moving to grope your breasts, talented fingers always managing to zero in on your already peaked nipples.

Oh fuck, you’re horny.

By the time you slip into bed, you’re positively dripping from neediness. You sit anxiously on your bedspread, huffing with impatience before giving up on waiting; pouting, you’re pulling up Tim’s contact info when your phone rings with an incoming call from the man himself.

“Hey Shutterbug, did you have a good day?”

“Timmmmmm,” at this point you miss him so much all you can do is whine his name.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Tim’s voice is sharp, alert.

You know you’re being needy to the point of childishness, brattiness, but you’re so miserable without the comfort of him that you start to tear up just from hearing Tim’s obvious concern, “I miss you so much, baby. I don’t know… I know it’s only been four days, but the apartment feels so sad and empty without you. I feel so sad and empty without you.”

“Ohhhh Shutterbug, I miss you so much too. These training drills have been non-stop, I wish I could have taken a break during the day to let you know how much I’m thinking about you. You’re always on my mind, I promise.”

“Really?” you sniffle, though Tim’s sweet words have made you smile for the first time all day.

“Of course, gorgeous! I miss you so much – I’m so fucking tired during these tactical maneuvers because I can’t get a decent night’s sleep without you in my arms. I asked Housekeeping to bring me another pillow last night so I could hug it while I slept but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t smell of your sweetness, baby, and I ended up throwing it across the room some time around 3 a.m.”

You giggle at this, “I’m sorry you’re not getting enough sleep, Detective. I’ve been missing you the most in our bed, too. I’m wearing your shirts to sleep just to feel even a little bit like you’re here with me.”

“I wish I could see that, Shutterbug.”

“Need to see you, Tim. Can we switch to a video call?”

“Sure, baby.” Tim turns on his phone camera and finds it amusing when it seems to take you a little while to do the same. Chuckling, he listens to you shuffling around in the background of his still blackened screen; when you finally appear, his ethereal angel glowing in high resolution, it was all worth the wait.

You’ve propped up your phone on his side of the bed so Tim can have a perfect of view of you laying back on a nest of pillows giving him a coy and shy look; you’re wearing a sheer pink chiffon negligee, soft ruffles floating over your body and ending just below the cut of a pair of dainty matching panties. Detective Rockford nearly swallows his tongue when his eyes trail up to find that the cups that would normally cover your breasts have been cut out and replaced by a strategic band of lace that stretches across your chest, just barely covering your pretty nipples.

“See how much I missed you, Detective?”

Tim gulps, “Yeah, I see, Shutterbug.”

Your expression turns faux pouty, “Wish more than anything that you were here, Tim. But I know I have to make do with my toy until you come home tomorrow.” Tim watches as you reach for your favourite vibrator, a little red silicone thing meant for dual stimulation with a g-spot vibrator at one end, shaft curving to a little clit sucker on the other.

“Actually, on second thought, I’m not sure if I do see. Maybe you should show me how much you miss me, baby,” grins Tim, settling back on the hotel mattress and unbuttoning his pants.

You nod demurely, eyes still downcast but Tim spies a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth, “I really do miss you, Detective.” Slowly, slowly, you inch the hem of your nightie up your thighs and spread your legs until the darkened patch on the gusset of your panties is visible onscreen. Turning on the vibration of your toy, you run the wand up and down your fabric-covered slit, shuddering at its gentle buzzing.

“I can see you’re already dripping wet, gorgeous,” Tim licks his lips.

“And what should I do about that, Detective?” you coo.

“Keep that little toy of yours pressed against where you’re so needy, please. And play with your pretty tits for me, Shutterbug.”

Grinning to yourself, you close your eyes and roam your free hand over your chest. You grope and massage your supple flesh the way you know Tim would if he were here, trying to mimic the feel of his meaty hands pulling and kneading your tits, but your hand just simply isn’t big enough. Giving up, you redirect your efforts to your nipples, already hard and tenting the lace strip that lays prettily atop.

The growling from your phone speakers gets progressively louder as you play with yourself - your own whines and gasps ring back in duet, growing in pitch and intensity. Alternating between both sides of your chest, you roll your nipples between your fingers - gently at first, then increasing the pinch until you start arching into the welcomed sting.

“Take them out,” the command is practically snarled, causing your eyes to fly open and lock eyes with the Tim filling your phone screen; his gaze matches his tone, dark and animalistic - teeth practically bared as he labours through his breathing. In this moment, you realize with relief-tinged triumph that Detective Rockford’s been as desperate for you these past few days as you have been for him.

Voice low and seductive, you purr, “Want to see you too, Detective,” even as you angle your slender fingers to pull down the lace band that stands between your detective and his favourite sight in the world.

“After,” Tim grits, a pained warning.

Not in the habit of denying that handsome face, you relent happily; the look on Detective Rockford’s face when he sees your tits spill out sends a rapid warmth from your newly uncovered chest straight to your throbbing pussy. If you weren’t so turned on right now, you might giggle from the sight of Tim nostrils flaring at how your now exposed peaks reach out to him, pert and aching.

“Goddamn, baby. You’re so fucking pretty,” the evident awe in your sweet detective’s voice feeds the fire that’s raging below your belly. Still stroking your vibrator along the outside of your panties, you hold it down harder, seeking more contact and friction, “Oh, fuck Tim, miss your touch so much.” You go back to mimicking Tim’s handling of your tits: kneading, caressing, rolling and pinching, tugging hard on your nipples before letting your boobs fall and ripple, ever crying out for more, more, him, him, him.

“Gorgeous, those filthy noises of yours are getting me so fucking hard.”

“Let me see,” you beg, “you promised, Tim.”

As Tim goes to flip his camera around, you turn off your vibrator, freeing your hand to pull down your panties - stopped halfway down your thighs when his monster cock takes over your screen. Forgetting what you were doing, your mouth pools as you watch Tim’s fist slowly stroke his rock-hard length, thick thumb sweeping over the angry, leaking head.

“Don’t you want to finish taking off those panties, baby?” you can hear the smirk on Tim’s unseen face.

Neediness rearing its bratty head at having what you consider yours unfairly withheld from your touch, you sulk and whine, “Miss him, Tim. Need your cock so bad. Wish I could taste him right now.” Still, you finish slipping off your underwear and kick the drenched scrap of lace off the end of the bed before spreading your legs, smugly imagining the way Tim’s pupils must be dilating at your glistening pussy on display for him.

“Oh shit, Shutterbug.”

Tim’s throaty groan sends a shiver down your body and you’re sure he can see the way your blooming cunt flutters. “If you need something in your mouth, let’s put that toy of yours to good use.” Sighing, pathetically aroused, you make a show of running the wand end of your vibrator through your folds and dragging it up, up, up over your stomach - arching your breasts up and out as you trail your wetness all the way past the climb of your throat until you touch the smooth silicone to the corner of your mouth, tongue darting out to give it a little lick.

“Want to see you work that toy like you would my cock, baby.” You preen at Detective’s directive, eager to give him a show, to please. Still roughly teasing and grabbing at your tits, you slip your vibrator into your waiting mouth and close your lips around the wand, moaning at the hint of your own taste that hits your tongue. Sliding the smooth red toy past the suction of your lips, in and out, in and out, timed to Tim’s pumping of his shaft on your phone screen, you close your eyes and imagine that it’s him that fills your mouth. It’s nowhere enough, but still, your tongue licks and flicks as if it were him and the reward of Tim’s guttural groans and praise compensates for the difference.

“Could watch that talented tongue all night long, baby.”

“So good at that, gorgeous – can almost imagine your hot mouth on my cock right now.”

“I’d ready to tear this place down and race home to you tonight, Shutterbug.”

Tim’s words make your heart race and your cunt flood, and suddenly, the empty ache between your legs can no longer be ignored. The hand that was playing with your breasts snakes down your body towards your poor neglected pussy, circling home on your swollen clit.

“Is she feeling neglected, baby?” the sneer in Tim’s domineering tone sends a fresh wave of slick cascading down your inner thighs.

Mouth still stuffed with the silicone toy, you nod dumbly at your phone camera, mumbling, “So empty.”

You could swim in the generosity dripping from the baritone birdsong that plays through the speakers, “Why don’t you make your toy buzz and see if we can fill her?”

Sliding the shiny, wet wand out of your mouth, you bring it to life with the touch of a button; with no patience for coyness or seduction, you drop it directly in between your legs, clit jumping when you brush past. Without fanfare or pretense, you push the toy into your entrance, encountering zero resistance – cunt already dripping with desperation, the toy hardly the largest stretch you’ve accommodated.

Again, you thrust the silicone baton in and out of your hole to the same thumping rhythm with which Tim is working his length; though the curve of the toy brings it close enough to nudge that coveted spot on your inner walls, its reach is nowhere near that of the mouthwatering cock you can’t tear your eyes away from. Even so, the lascivious sight of Tim thickening as he fists himself and his feral grunts are enough for you to fantasize that he’s with you, making up the remainder of your fill. You whinny and squirm as the banding coil of your desire begins to tighten.

Over the squelching noises of your own sopping cunt sucking in your buzzing vibrator, you can make out the rambling of Detective Rockford’s filthy praise:

“Look at her swallowing your little toy, gorgeous. Goddamn.”

“Wish I was there to taste her, baby. You always taste so sweet.”

“Fuck – don’t you just have the prettiest pussy? So greedy, too, isn’t she?”

“Miss my messy girl so, so much.”

“We miss you, too,” you whine, “she needs you, Tim!”

The image on your screen disappears as Tim flips the camera back to his face and you gasp sharply when he reappears. Tim looks wrecked. Breathing shallow and uneven, eyes blown and jet black, you know what your detective is going to say before he says it, “Baby, I’m so close - want you to come with me.”

You want to give it to him. You always want to give him everything. Gliding your vibrator in to the hilt so that the tip nestles against that delicious spot, you fight through amplified waves of pleasure to push the button that activates the sucking mechanism on the opposite curved end, angling it towards your slippery clit as it whirls awake. You press down and the instant the sucker latches onto your already throbbing nub, you howl - legs shooting out rigid, attempting to close.

“Let me see, baby. Want to see and hear you feel good,” rasps Tim, command throaty and strained.

With what little control you have, you widen your legs again; keeping a hand on your vibe to hold it in place, you start rolling your hips, grinding against that perfect dual pulse that’s thrumming on and in you. Your cries climb louder, trebling as you chase your high, “Oh god, Tim! It’s so much, too much! I’m going to, I’m g-”

“You’re so perfect, baby. Such a fucking angel when you come. Give it to me. Come for me. Come with me,” roars Detective Rockford, his handsome face pinching, brow furrowing deep as he submits to his climax.

Despite being so very far away, your body dials to Tim’s bliss and you come hard, shuddering and shaking to your own mindless chanting of your detective’s name.

With your descent approaching, you pull your toy from your now overstimulated cunt and turn it off before letting it drop from your limp hand onto the bed. Eyes glassy and breath still short, you look over to see Tim’s sweet, dopey grin radiating at you from the bright screen; grabbing your phone, you curl onto your side and set it across from your face so you can see the man you’ve been missing all this week a little better. His hair is messy and a little sweaty, his eyes are tired but they crinkle with clear fondness for you and the sight makes your heart soar - unfortunately, the tightening of your chest prevents it from truly taking flight.

Though your immediate craving for your detective is now satisfied (and oh boy, are you ever satisfied!), your need for him runs so much deeper. You miss this Tim, the Tim who’s looking at you like he is right now - like you’re the most adored, cherished woman on the planet. Because that’s how he always makes you feel; that space that Tim himself carved out for you by his side is where you feel happiest, loved, safe. Sated now is the horny neediness that consumed you this past week, exposing the still very raw longing for the comfort of your shared intimacy and the security that only Tim can provide your heart. In his very presence and enveloped in Tim’s warmth is your favourite place in this world – the safest of spaces where not only do you know you’ll remain unharmed, you’re unconditionally supported, prioritized, treasured.

He sees you. He knows you. He makes you feel like you can do anything, be anything, and that you’re already everything. You yearn for the haven of Tim’s love and the confidence it gives you to be your truest self. He protects you in every way that could ever matter - he’s your safety, your home. And you miss him so, so much.

“You feel better now, baby?”

You nod, though your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “That was incredible, Tim. You always make me feel so good,” biting your lip, you’re still unable to keep your lash line from watering and blurring the image of your handsome detective. “But somehow I miss you even more now,” the quiver in your voice as you try to hold back your tears nearly breaks Tim’s heart.

“Hey, hey now,” if Detective Rockford could, he’d move the entire sky to take away his girl’s sadness, “I know what you mean, Shutterbug. As good as this felt, it’s not going to make sleeping without you tonight any easier.” He’s mollified when he sees your pretty features softening a little, “Just one more day, gorgeous. Just one more day and we’ll be together again.”

“Just one more day,” you repeat, smiling a bit more brightly now. “You should go to bed now, Detective. It’s late and I’m sure you’re tired.”

“Why don’t we get ready for bed together? Wanna hear about your day, baby,” offers Tim, not quite ready to let you go.

The two of you take your phones with you to your respective bathrooms; the routine of cleaning up, brushing teeth, changing into sleep clothes not quite as mundane when not performed alone. The conversation is kept light, hopeful, both of you pacified knowing that this torturous separation will soon be over.

Still, after climbing back into bed, neither you nor Tim can bear to utter any farewells, opting instead for quietly spoken lullabies composed of loving and reassuring words, and featherlight promises that float loftily over the onset of your shared fatigue.

When you finally fall asleep, it’s to the soft, even breathing and peaceful visage of a sleeping Detective Rockford glowing warmly on your phone screen and the most comforting of thoughts:

Just one more day.

Thank you so much for reading! A little follow-up drabble entitled "Homecoming" will be posted in February! 🥰

If you like epistolary fics, I wrote two for Safest with You: 2 More Days (sextfic) and Holiday Remix (holiday fluff). Please check out all the other Dear-uary entries!!

#comment reblog #thank you for reading #tim rockford #tim rockford fic #tim rockford fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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julietsf1 · 2 days ago

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All is Fair in Love and Pastries - Kenan Yıldız x Reader

summary: She came to Munich for romance and got ghosted instead. Now, all she has left is a non-refundable ticket, a wounded ego, and an ongoing feud with a man who stole her last pretzel. (8k words)

content: serendipity, slight enemies-to-lovers, unexpected chemistry, teasing, fluff :)

AN: getting that real life inspo lmao I'm actually still going to Munich this weekend as my ticket is non refundable :') bet im gonna go shopping tho!! have a lovely day darlings <3

_______________________________________

I stared at my phone for the hundredth time that day, hoping—no, praying—for a notification. A single message. A carrier pigeon, even. Anything to prove that I hadn’t just imagined the last 5 months of my relationship.

Nothing.

Just the same empty screen, as quiet and indifferent as the man who swore he loved me five days ago.

I refreshed our chat anyway, like that would suddenly make a difference. Maybe my WiFi was acting up. Maybe he had texted, and the message was just... stuck in the digital abyss, waiting to be delivered.

Nope. Still nothing.

I sighed dramatically and flopped back onto my bed, holding my phone above me like it might suddenly start explaining itself.

It had been four days since my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend? Current ghost?—had last texted me. Four whole days. No explanation, no excuse, not even the cowardice of a half-assed breakup text.

Just... radio silence.

Besides the instagram stories of his friends, where he was seemingly having the time of his life clubbing and going to basketball matches.

The man who, less than a week ago, had been telling me he missed me so much, that he couldn’t wait to see me, had apparently decided I no longer existed.

Cool. Very cool.

I unlocked my phone and stared at my last message to him. A simple:

"What time are you picking me up from the airport <3"

Sent. Read. Ignored.

I clenched my jaw and rolled onto my stomach, glaring at my laptop screen where my non-refundable plane ticket sat in my email inbox. A round-trip flight from Nice to Munich, purchased in what I now recognized as the stupidest burst of romantic optimism I’d ever had.

What was I supposed to do now? Cancel? Waste the money and sit at home, marinating in my own heartbreak like some tragic rom-com protagonist?

Absolutely not.

He may have ghosted me, but I’d be damned if I let some spineless man ruin my weekend. If nothing else, I was going to Munich. I had been there quite often for him anyway; I can figure out town for myself. And if nothing else, I was going to eat overpriced pastries, wander through fancy boutiques, and romanticize the hell out of my heartbreak.

So that’s exactly what I did.

I packed my bags and boarded the plane with all the enthusiasm of someone heading to their own public execution.

…

Munich was cold, and I was hungry—a dangerous combination for my already fragile mood.

I had spent the last hour walking through Englischer Garten, trying to shake off the lingering irritation of being ghosted. Fresh air was supposed to be good for you, right? It was supposed to clear your head, restore balance, whatever.

Did it work?

Not even a little.

I even stopped by the Eisbachwelle, where wetsuit-clad lunatics flung themselves into freezing water, attempting to surf a man-made wave in the middle of the city. I lingered for a while, waiting for the sight of someone wiping out spectacularly to cheer me up. A little Schadenfreude, as the Germans call it.

But even that failed me.

A guy faceplanted so hard that his board smacked him in the ribs, and all I felt was secondhand embarrassment. Not a single drop of joy.

Which meant I had officially lost my edge.

I needed a reset. Something warm, salty, buttery, preferably in the shape of a large pretzel.

So when I spotted a small bakery stand in Marienplatz, I knew what had to be done.

There it was. The last Brezn.

Golden brown, perfectly crisp on the outside, still steaming slightly. It looked like a hug in food form. The kind of thing that could turn your entire day around, that could restore faith in humanity, that could—

A hand shot out at the same time as mine.

Before I could react, the pretzel thief had already handed over his cash, nodding a polite danke to the vendor as if he hadn't just robbed me blind in broad daylight.

I stood there, hand still hovering mid-air, fingers closing around absolutely nothing.

The guy—the criminal in question—didn’t even hesitate. He just took a bite, slow and deliberate, as if he were performing for a food commercial.

I should have just let it go. But I was cold, hungry, and, quite frankly, on the verge of snapping.

“Excuse me?” I said, my voice teetering dangerously close to customer service polite.

He finally turned toward me, mid-chew, like he hadn’t just committed culinary theft.

Up close, he was—unfortunately—pretty easy to look at. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features softened only slightly by a full head of thick, dark blonde hair. The kind of guy who looked like he belonged in an expensive ad campaign, modeling watches he probably didn't even know how to read.

His gaze flicked down at me, scanning me with the casual arrogance of a man who had never had to fight for the last anything in his life.

“Problem?”

I crossed my arms. “You just stole my Brezn.”

He glanced down at it. Then, without even a hint of remorse, ripped off another piece and tossed it into his mouth.

“Oh?” he said, chewing. “Didn’t see your name on it.”

I let out a slow breath through my nose. “You cut the line.”

He shrugged. “I don’t wait in lines.”

I squinted at him. “Oh, wow. That must be so difficult for you.”

“It is,” he replied, entirely serious, before popping another bite into his mouth.

I stared at him. He stared back.

This was a test from the universe.

“I think I deserve it more,” he said finally, still looking alarmingly relaxed about this whole thing.

“Oh yeah?” I deadpanned. “And why’s that?”

He licked a bit of salt off his thumb—unnecessarily slowly, might I add—before replying, “I’m barely ever home. Haven’t had one of these in months.”

I exhaled sharply, glancing at the vendor like maybe—just maybe—there was another pretzel hiding in a secret stash somewhere. But no. This was it.

This stranger had not only taken the last Brezn but was now making a compelling case as to why he deserved it more.

I had two choices:

1. Accept defeat like a normal, functioning adult.

2. Die on this hill.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t feeling particularly mature today.

“Well,” I said, shifting my weight onto one leg. “I actually had a really rough week. So if we’re doing the who deserves it more competition, I’m pretty sure I win.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking far too amused for someone who had just ruined my day. “Oh yeah? What happened?”

I opened my mouth, then hesitated.

“Let’s just say I’ve had a series of unfortunate events that have led me here, to this exact moment, where all I wanted—all I needed—was a Brezn.” I gestured toward the offending baked good, still clutched in his ridiculously nice hands. “And yet, here we are.”

He considered that for a moment, like he was actually entertaining the idea of handing it over.

Then, after a beat, he simply swallowed, dusted the salt from his fingers, and said, “Still not giving it to you.”

I blinked. “You’re actually the worst.”

“Probably,” he agreed, unbothered.

And then—because apparently, this interaction wasn’t infuriating enough—he shot me a quick smirk, turned on his heel, and walked away.

With my pretzel.

I watched his retreating figure, the back of his stupidly nice jacket, the annoyingly confident way he walked, and considered my life choices.

Maybe I should have just tripped him.

…

By the time I reached Jamal’s apartment, I had mostly let go of the pretzel theft.

Mostly.

Fine, not at all, but I was telling myself that because I refused to let some random bread bandit ruin my entire weekend.

I rang the doorbell, and within seconds, the door swung open to reveal Jamal Musiala—failed Raya date turned best mate.

We had met on the app ages ago, but within the first five minutes of real-life conversation, it was abundantly clear that we were better off as friends. No awkward tension, no will-they-won’t-they—just immediate sibling energy.

And when he heard about my spectacular disaster, he didn’t even hesitate.

"Cancel the hotel. My guest room is free. You’re staying with me."

Which was how I ended up here, standing in his doorway while he pulled me into a quick hug.

"Yo! Finally made it," he said, immediately pulling me into a hug.

"Survived another international flight," I sighed, stepping inside and already feeling the tension in my shoulders ease.

He grabbed my bag, tossing it near the door like it was his personal mission to make sure I did absolutely nothing for myself this weekend. "Long day?"

"You have no idea," I muttered, collapsing onto the couch. "Between the baby on the flight and some guy testing my patience on the streets of Munich, I was one bad moment away from throwing hands."

Jamal raised an eyebrow, already amused. "Define ‘testing your patience.’"

I waved a hand. "Eh, some random dickhead cut in front of me at a bakery. Took the last Brezn. Very tragic. Anyway, I’m over it now."

Jamal snorted. "You don’t sound over it."

"I’ve grown as a person," I said solemnly, grabbing the tea he handed me. "Anyway, enough about me. What’s new? Got any hot gossip?"

"Nothing as dramatic as your bread wars," he teased, settling into the chair across from me. "But I’m still reeling over the fact that you thought long-distance dating was a good idea."

I sighed, taking a long sip of my tea. "Alright, go on. Get it out of your system."

He smirked. "No, no, I just think it’s inspiring. You—who has approximately zero patience for time-wasters—thought dating someone five countries away was a solid plan."

I gave him a look. "It made sense at the time!"

Jamal raised an eyebrow. "Did it?"

I groaned. "Yes! In theory, long-distance means built-in space. No pressure to see each other all the time, no risk of losing yourself in the relationship. You still get your own life. It’s all very mature, very evolved."

"Ah yes," he nodded seriously, "a relationship with absolutely no quality time. Revolutionary."

I ignored him. "It worked perfectly for me."

Jamal leaned forward, grinning. "I think you’re saying he just didn’t make you fall head over heels properly."

"I’m saying it was a noble experiment that failed," I corrected.

"You rationalize love like it’s a business deal," he said, shaking his head. "I bet you made a whole pros and cons list before agreeing to this relationship."

I pursed my lips.

Jamal’s eyes widened. "Oh my God. You did."

"It was a very casual list," I mumbled into my mug.

He threw his head back, cackling. "You’re mental."

I scowled. "Some of us like to make informed decisions, Jamal."

"And some of us," he grinned, "realize that love isn’t an investment portfolio. It just happens."

I squinted at him. "That sounds like something people say when they want me to shut up."

"That too," he admitted, still smirking. "Anyway, I invited a friend over for FIFA later—hope you don’t mind."

I waved a hand lazily. "No problem. I’m gonna take a long shower first anyway."

…

The shower did its job. By the time I stepped out, warm and wrapped in one of Jamal’s oversized hoodies, I felt lighter. Like maybe this weekend wasn’t a complete disaster. Maybe I could just enjoy being in Munich, enjoy my friend’s company, and ignore the nagging feeling that I had flown here for absolutely no reason.

Then I stepped into the living room.

And froze.

Because sitting on Jamal’s couch, controller in hand, was none other than the Brezn thief himself.

I stopped so abruptly I nearly slid on the hardwood floor.

He looked up at me mid-game, one hand casually flicking the joystick, the other resting against the back of the couch like he had all the time in the world. His dark blond waves were slightly damp, like he’d just showered too, and he was wearing a black long-sleeve shirt that looked unfairly good on him.

For a split second, I thought maybe the universe was punishing me. That this was some kind of elaborate karmic joke.

Then he grinned, slow and lazy.

“Oh,” he said, far too casually for my liking. “It’s you again.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you following me?”

Jamal—completely oblivious to the mounting tension in the room—paused the game and looked between us. “Wait. You two already know each other?”

The man—who I now knew was not just some random bakery menace but an actual acquaintance of Jamal’s—stretched his arms out in front of him like he was completely at ease, shooting me a look that was somewhere between amused and smug.

“We met earlier,” he said, still grinning like he found this whole thing hilarious. “Had a little disagreement over a pretzel.”

I crossed my arms. “I wouldn’t call it a disagreement. More like an act of blatant food theft.”

Jamal let out a loud laugh. “Oh my God. You’re the Brezn guy?”

I turned to him, betrayed. “You’re taking his side?”

“Oh, I’m on no one’s side,” Jamal said, still grinning. “I just can’t believe you’ve been ranting about this all evening, and it turns out it was Kenan.”

Kenan.

I turned back to him, my brain finally catching up. Kenan Yıldız. The name suddenly clicked into place. Juventus player. Young star. He had been on all the football news headlines lately, yet I hadn’t recognized him when we’d been too busy arguing over baked goods.

Kenan leaned back against the couch, clearly enjoying every second of this.

“If it helps,” he said, “I did think about giving it to you.”

I scoffed. “Wow. So generous.”

“Didn’t, though,” he added, eyes gleaming.

I inhaled sharply, mentally weighing the pros and cons of throwing a pillow at his head.

Jamal, meanwhile, was still thoroughly entertained. “Alright, alright. Before you two start a war in my living room, sit down. We’re playing FIFA.”

I dropped onto the couch, watching as he passed a controller to Kenan. “Oh, fantastic. I get to witness high-quality gameplay firsthand.”

Kenan barely glanced at me as he selected his team. “That sounded sarcastic.”

I took a sip of my drink. “That’s because it was.”

Jamal grinned. “You talk like you’ve seen him play before.”

I gestured toward the screen. "The evidence is right there. You haven’t even started playing, and I can already see the classic overconfidence."

Jamal burst out laughing. “Oh, this is great. I love this."

Kenan tilted his head slightly. “You think I’m bad at FIFA?”

I leaned back, stretching my legs out. “I think you think you’re good, which is way worse.”

Jamal wheezed. “Mate, she’s calling you a fraud.”

Kenan finally smirked, something sharper in his expression now. “Alright then. Play me.”

I scoffed. “Why would I waste my time proving something I already know?”

Kenan handed me a controller. “Because I think you’re all talk.”

Jamal let out a low whistle. “Damn. You gonna let him say that?”

I squinted at Kenan, assessing. He looked too confident, too pleased with himself, like he had already decided I was going to lose.

Big mistake.

I stretched my arms, feigning boredom. "Fine. But when I win, you’re buying me a Brezn."

His grin widened. “Deal.”

Jamal leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. “Alright, this is officially the most invested I’ve ever been in FIFA.”

The match started, and I quickly realized three things:

1. Kenan was as smug as humanly possible.

2. I was not as bad as he expected.

3. I was still losing.

“You sure you’ve played this before?” he teased, passing circles around my defense.

I gritted my teeth. “Yes.”

“You sure?”

“Shut up.”

And then—he scored.

Jamal burst out laughing as I dramatically collapsed against the couch. “I’m going to throw this controller at your head.”

Kenan grinned. “You’re just mad because you’re losing.”

I exhaled, resetting. “Alright. I’m locked in now.”

Kenan smirked. “Oh? You weren’t trying before?”

“I was warming up.”

And then—I started to figure him out.

Kenan was good, but he was also comfortable. He played like someone who expected to win—which meant he wasn’t ready for surprises.

So I gave him one.

Instead of playing safe, I started forcing mistakes. Instead of predictable attacks, I threw reckless passes forward, sprinting onto them with zero hesitation.

And then—somehow, some way—I scored.

The room went silent.

Jamal’s eyes widened. “NO WAY.”

I shot up from the couch, genuinely thrilled, throwing my arms in the air like I had just won the World Cup. “LET’S GO!”

Kenan blinked at the screen, processing. “...Alright. That was decent.”

“DECENT?” I laughed. “That was incredible. That was a masterpiece. Someone call FIFA, that was the best goal of the year.”

Jamal was dying, doubled over in laughter. “She’s actually celebrating like she won the league.”

Kenan shook his head, but he didn’t say anything.

Jamal leaned toward him. “You good, man? I think she actually rattled you.”

Kenan exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. “One goal means nothing.”

I grinned. “You sound stressed.”

“I’m not,” he said flatly.

“You look stressed.”

Kenan didn’t even respond. He just restarted the match, jaw set, eyes focused.

And that’s when I realized—he actually cared.

I had gotten to him.

And that fact alone made my entire weekend.

The rest of the game was pure chaos. I spent the entire match talking, commentating my every move like I was a sports announcer, making Jamal cry with laughter while Kenan did his best to block me out.

And then—somehow, against all odds—I scored again.

Jamal fell to the floor. “SHE DID IT AGAIN.”

I jumped up, clapping my hands together, absolutely beaming. “Someone get the cameras! Someone call ESPN!”

Kenan exhaled, dragging a hand down his face.

Jamal cackled. “I think this is the happiest I’ve ever seen her.”

Kenan looked at me then, properly looked, and for a split second, there was something undeniably fond in his gaze.

He didn’t say anything, just shook his head with a tiny, reluctant smile.

I flopped back down, grinning wildly. “Kenan, should I go pro?”

“You should retire while you’re ahead,” he muttered.

I smirked. “So you admit I’m ahead.”

Kenan sighed, picking up his drink. “I’m not talking to you anymore.”

Jamal wheezed. “Nah, man, you lost. Accept it.”

I stood up, stretching lazily. “I believe you owe me a Brezn, Yıldız.”

With a giggle, I wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a coke from the fridge, still riding the high of my victory.

Behind me, I heard Jamal got up, grabbing his phone. “Food’s almost here—I’ll go down and get it.”

The appartment was quiet now besides the sound of a controller being set down. A pause.

Then, Kenan’s voice, low and even.

“She’s unbearable.”

I grabbed a coke and turned around, only to find him already walking into the kitchen.

He moved with the kind of easy confidence that was impossible to ignore, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt slightly, like he had all the time in the world. I expected him to go for a drink himself, but he just leaned against the counter, watching me.

I raised an eyebrow, taking a slow sip. “Let me guess. You came in here to process your humiliating loss in private?”

His lips twitched. “I came in here to see if you’d finally crack and admit you got lucky.”

I scoffed, setting my drink down with dramatic emphasis. “Lucky? Oh, that’s cute. You think this was luck.”

Kenan tilted his head slightly, like he was really considering it. “Mmm. Either that, or you tricked me into underestimating you.”

I gasped, pressing a hand to my chest. “Are you suggesting I played mind games with you?”

His eyes glinted with something just shy of admiration. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

I smirked. “You’re right. I totally did. And I’d do it again.”

Kenan’s lips curled at the edges, like he wasn’t going to give me the satisfaction of admitting anything. But his gaze flickered—just for a second—down to my mouth before locking back onto my eyes.

There was a beat of silence, not awkward but charged.

His voice was lower when he spoke again. “I’ll get you back for that.”

I raised my eyebrow. “Sure you will.”

Before he could respond, Jamal’s voice rang out from the hallway. “Food’s here!”

Kenan stepped back, running a hand through his hair before nodding toward the door. “Come on, winner. Let’s eat.”

I followed, my smirk still lingering.

For the first time all weekend, I felt genuinely good.

…

It had gotten late the night before. Later than expected.

Jamal had ordered food, we’d all ended up sitting around, eating, talking, and somehow, between full stomachs and heavy eyelids, Kenan had ended up crashing on the couch. It wasn’t planned—just one of those things that happened when the night stretched longer than you thought it would.

I had barely registered it at the time, already halfway asleep in Jamal’s guest room, but when I woke up the next morning and wandered into the living room, there he was.

Kenan Yıldız. In all his six-foot-something, professional athlete, half-asleep glory.

Sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes, hair a mess of lazy curls, mouth slightly parted like he hadn’t fully re-entered consciousness yet.

I stared for a second too long, mostly because I wasn’t used to seeing him like this—soft around the edges, not smirking or arguing with me—before clearing my throat.

“You know, Jamal does have an actual guest room.”

Kenan didn’t move, just let out a low, sleep-roughened grumble that was probably a sentence in some language I didn’t speak.

I rolled my eyes, walking into the kitchen. “I’m going to get breakfast. If you’re alive in the next five minutes, feel free to come along.”

He was already pushing himself up onto his elbows, blinking like he wasn’t fully convinced the day had started yet. “Where’s Jamal?”

I grabbed my coat. “Still dead to the world.”

Kenan ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose. “Smart man.”

…

The café was small, tucked away from the main streets, the kind of place that felt warm the second you walked in. The smell of fresh bread and espresso filled the air, and despite the morning chill outside, it was cozy, inviting, the kind of place people actually took their time in.

I relaxed a little the second I stepped inside.

Kenan scanned the space, hands in his pockets, taking it in like he was mentally scoring it. “Not bad.”

I scoffed. “Not bad? This is an elite breakfast spot.”

He smirked. “I’ll decide once I taste the food.”

I rolled my eyes but before I could continue defending my flawless café selection, I noticed a small interaction at the counter.

A barista—young, probably new—was clearly overwhelmed, trying to juggle too many things at once. She fumbled slightly with the coffee machine, hands moving fast, eyes flicking to the growing line like it was personally taunting her.

The businessman at the front, impatient and already checking his watch, let out a loud, exasperated sigh. “Jesus, is it always this slow?”

I didn’t mean to intervene.

It just kind of… happened.

I leaned slightly against the counter, offering a calm, easy smile.

“Take your time. It’s way too early for people to be this impatient.”

The words weren’t pointed, not really, but they carried just enough weight to cut through the tension.

The barista glanced at me, a flicker of relief in her expression before she nodded quickly and refocused on the drink in front of her.

The businessman, unimpressed, muttered something under his breath but dropped it, grabbing his coffee and stalking off.

Kenan, silent up until now, turned his head slightly toward me, like he was seeing me differently for the first time.

I ignored it, focusing back on the menu.

When we finally stepped up to order, the barista, still looking a little frazzled but better, managed a small, genuine smile.

“Thanks,” she murmured, adjusting her apron. “Some people are just…” She trailed off, rolling her eyes slightly, as if she couldn’t quite find the right word.

“The worst?” I offered.

She laughed. “Yeah. That.”

Kenan was still watching me, but now there was something else behind it.

Something almost amused.

“So you do have the capacity to be nice,” he mused, smirking as we stepped aside to wait for our drinks. “Interesting.”

I scoffed, stirring a sugar packet between my fingers. “I am perfectly capable of being nice.”

Kenan raised a brow, feigning deep contemplation. “Mmm. Just not to me?”

“The barista never stole my pretzel.”

He let out a low, lazy laugh, shaking his head as if he almost respected the answer. “Fair point.”

I took a sip of my coffee, pleased with myself, but before I could gloat, the barista returned, sliding an extra croissant onto our tray.

“On the house,” she said with a grin. “For being nice.”

I shot her a bright smile, but that smile slightly fell when I turned back to Kenan, I caught him watching me.

Not smirking. Not teasing.

Just looking.

It wasn’t obvious, nothing overt or lingering enough to call attention to itself. But there was something there—something unreadable, like a thought passing through his mind before he could decide what to do with it.

I frowned. “What?”

Kenan blinked, shaking his head slightly like he was resetting his expression. “Nothing.”

I squinted at him. “You’re weird.”

He smirked. “And yet, you invited me to breakfast.”

I rolled my eyes. “Because I was feeling charitable.”

Kenan took a slow sip of his coffee, eyes still flickering with something I couldn’t quite name.

“Lucky me.”

And for some reason, that sentence stayed with me longer than it should have.

…

The rest of the day, after dropping Jamal’s breakfast and Kenan went home, I was on a mission.

Enough sulking. Enough rehashing why I was even here. If I was going to spend a weekend away, I was going to make something of it—starting with the one thing that had never failed to lift my spirits.

Retail therapy.

Now, let’s be clear—I wasn’t the kind of person who regularly indulged in luxury shopping sprees. I was a firm believer in financial responsibility and splurging on sales.

But sometimes—just sometimes—a girl needed to treat herself.

I had no intention of actually buying anything.

But the moment I stepped inside Saint Laurent, something in me shifted.

Maybe it was the soft golden lighting, making everything look like it belonged in a dream. Maybe it was the quiet elegance of it all, the way the sales associates moved like they had all the secrets to life itself.

Or maybe, for the first time all week, I felt like I deserved something just for me.

I started with the handbags, lightly running my fingers over smooth leather and delicate gold clasps, trying to soak up the feeling of being in a place that felt so effortlessly put-together.

And then—I saw it.

It wasn’t a bag.

It was a dress.

Simple, timeless, and undeniably perfect.

I hesitated for a second, fingers hovering over the fabric, wondering if I was allowed to try something this nice on.

Then a sales associate appeared, smiling warmly. “Would you like to see how it fits?”

I bit my lip, a little shy. “Oh, I was just—”

But then, in a rare moment of self-indulgence, I nodded. “Actually… yeah. Why not?”

And that was how it started.

Five minutes later, I was standing in front of a mirror, staring at a version of myself I hadn’t seen in a while.

The dress fit like it was made for me.

It hugged just right, elegant but effortless, like I’d just thrown it on and magically looked stunning. The kind of dress that didn’t need accessories or complicated styling. It just… worked.

I smoothed my hands over the fabric, twirling just slightly, inspecting every angle.

And for the first time all weekend, I actually smiled at my reflection.

The saleswoman clasped her hands together. “That’s the one, isn’t it?”

I exhaled, still staring at myself. “You’re very good at your job.”

She laughed. "You look stunning, dear."

I let out a small, giddy giggle, the kind I hadn’t heard from myself in a while. It felt nice, to like how I looked—to do something that was just for me, without a single ounce of guilt attached.

For once, I wasn’t overthinking it.

I wasn’t analyzing whether I should or shouldn’t.

I was just happy.

So before I could talk myself out of it, I lifted my chin and said, “I’ll take it.”

As I handed over my card, I thought about where I’d wear it.

Jamal’s match tonight. The VIP box.

And then, out of nowhere, another thought crept in—one I definitely didn’t mean to have.

What if Kenan sees me in this? Surely he would be there too.

The moment the thought fully registered, warmth crept up my neck and into my cheeks.

I nearly choked on my own internal monologue.

I shook my head quickly, forcing down the blush before the saleswoman could notice.

I wasn’t buying this for him. Obviously. No. This was just for me.

…But if Kenan happened to see me in it, well.

That wasn’t my fault.

….

By the time I arrived at Allianz Arena, I felt genuinely lighter.

Maybe it was the crisp night air, the buzz of excitement in the crowd, or the fact that I was actually looking forward to something for the first time in days.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that I felt good in my new dress.

The stadium lights shone down as I made my way to the VIP section, clutching my pass. The energy inside was electric, fans already singing, the deep thrum of anticipation settling over the stands.

I stepped inside the box, scanning the seats for Jamal, when a familiar voice cut through the crowd.

I turned, already knowing who it was before I even saw him.

Kenan stood next to me, hands tucked casually into his pockets, his usual smirk firmly in place. The stadium lights did unfair things to his features, casting a warm glow over his already obnoxiously handsome face, and for a split second, I hated that he had the nerve to look like that in any setting.

His gaze flicked down ever so slightly, scanning my dress before he met my eyes again.

“You look good.”

I blinked, caught slightly off guard by the lack of sarcasm in his voice.

Then, as if he could sense me registering the compliment too much, he added, “Unexpected, really.”

There it was.

I let out a scoff, placing a hand on my chest. “Oh my God, Kenan. That was almost a normal, genuine compliment. You must be exhausted.”

He hummed, nodding. “Yeah, I don’t know what came over me. Won’t happen again.”

“Shame,” I teased. “I was really enjoying the moment.”

He shook his head, biting back a smile. “So, what brings you here? Finally expanding your horizons past FIFA?”

I crossed my arms. “Actually, I’m here for Jamal. Some of us support our friends.”

Kenan nodded slowly. “Mmm. And yet… you’re standing here, talking to me instead.”

I opened my mouth to fire back, but before I could, the stadium erupted in cheers, the players stepping onto the field.

I turned my attention to the match, trying to pretend I wasn’t slightly flustered.

Kenan, however, didn’t seem as interested in the game as he was in continuing his favorite pastime: annoying me for fun.

“So, be honest,” he murmured, leaning in slightly. “You understand the rules of football, right?”

I gave him a dry look. “Wow. Incredible assumption. You see a woman at a match and immediately assume she doesn’t get it?”

Kenan grinned, unbothered. “No, I just see you at a match and assume you’re mostly here for the snacks.”

I gasped. “Excuse me, I am deeply invested in Jamal’s career.”

Kenan hummed, clearly not convinced. “Okay. What position does he play?”

I stared at him. “...Defense?”

Kenan smirked. “He’s a midfielder.”

I groaned, throwing my hands up. “Alright, whatever, I’m here for vibes and friendship. Sue me.”

Kenan chuckled, his eyes twinkling with pure amusement.

For once, I didn’t feel annoyed by it.

I turned back to the field, taking in the sheer energy of the stadium, the rush of excitement that rippled through the crowd.

And out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kenan watching me.

I glanced at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching the match?”

His smirk didn’t waver. “I am.”

Something warm and fluttery settled in my stomach before I could stop it.

…

By the time the match ended, I was happily full of stadium energy but tragically underfed.

The VIP box had food, sure, but it was the kind of small, fancy bites that looked better than they tasted. You know, the kind that was supposed to be "elevated dining" but just made you angry and hungrier.

I popped another tiny canapé into my mouth and sighed dramatically.

Kenan, who had been watching me struggle with barely concealed amusement, finally smirked. “You’re starving.”

I turned to him, offended. “I am not starving.”

Kenan gestured lazily to the criminally small appetizer on my plate. “You just inhaled that in one bite.”

I crossed my arms. “Maybe I have a very refined palate.”

He snorted. “Right. That’s why you look physically betrayed after every bite.”

I sighed, defeated. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’m a little hungry.”

Kenan hummed like he was deep in thought, then glanced at his watch.

“Come on.”

I frowned. “What?”

He was already heading toward the exit, looking over his shoulder like it was obvious. “We’re getting food.”

I blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

Kenan chuckled, his expression full of mischief. “Trust me, anything outside is an upgrade from whatever that was.”

I tilted my head. “And what if this is an elaborate scheme to lure me into a suspiciously empty street?”

His smirk deepened. “I’d like to think if I wanted you gone, I’d be more creative than that.”

I considered it. “That’s… unsettlingly fair.”

…

Kenan’s car smelled unfairly nice—not in an overwhelming, aggressively expensive way, but in that effortless ‘I have my life together’ way. It was all clean leather, faint cologne, and something subtly fresh, like pine or citrus, the kind of scent that made you want to breathe a little deeper just to keep it around a second longer.

I did not breathe deeper.

Instead, I focused on the city outside, on the soft blur of streetlights streaking across the window as we drove through a quieter part of Munich. The streets were mostly empty, the chaos of match day behind us, and for the first time in what felt like ages, I wasn’t feeling weighed down by my own thoughts.

I was full, I was warm, and for once, I wasn’t thinking about him.

And then, Kenan spoke.

“So.” His voice was casual, almost offhanded, like he wasn’t about to upend my peace. “You never actually said why you were in Munich.”

I blinked, looking away from the window. “What?”

He glanced at me briefly, his fingers drumming idly against the steering wheel before he turned back to the road. “You don’t seem like the type to just book a random flight for fun.”

I scoffed, feigning offense. “Excuse me, I am very spontaneous.”

Kenan hummed like he didn’t believe me. “Right. And how many of these ‘totally random’ solo trips have you taken before?”

I opened my mouth. Paused. Frowned.

“…That’s not important.”

Kenan chuckled, shaking his head. “So, you’re telling me you woke up one day and thought, Munich sounds nice?”

I huffed dramatically, crossing my arms. “Maybe I did.”

Kenan shot me a pointed look that said ‘I know you’re full of shit.’

I exhaled, shifting in my seat. “Fine. I was supposed to see someone.”

He didn’t react—just kept driving, waiting.

It was almost worse than if he had immediately jumped in with a question.

I sighed, resting my head against the window. “But, uh… turns out he didn’t feel like seeing me back. And I had the ticket booked already.”

The words felt… lighter now, like they didn’t hold the same weight as they did a few days ago. Maybe because I’d said them out loud before. Maybe because I wasn’t alone with them anymore.

Kenan’s fingers flexed on the steering wheel, his jaw tightening for half a second before he spoke.

“Idiot.”

I blinked, turning toward him. “What?”

His voice was even, casual, but the way he said it was too sure, too final. “The guy. He’s an idiot.”

I let out a small, surprised laugh, shaking my head. “You don’t even know him.”

Kenan didn’t hesitate. “Don’t have to.”

Something about his certainty made my stomach twist.

I licked my lips, choosing to ignore the warm feeling creeping into my chest. “You’re very confident in that assessment.”

Kenan finally glanced at me, just for a moment, then looked back at the road. “Yeah. I am.”

The air in the car felt different all of a sudden, not uncomfortable, but charged.

I opened my mouth, about to say something to break whatever this was, when—

Kenan reached into the backseat, grabbing something, and tossed a small paper bag into my lap.

I frowned down at it. “What’s this?”

Kenan kept his eyes on the road, one hand resting lazily on the gear shift. “Something I saw.”

I gave him a suspicious look before reaching inside.

The first thing I felt was something soft.

And when I pulled it out, I actually gasped.

It was a Jellycat plush.

But not just any Jellycat plush.

A pretzel-shaped one.

Ridiculously soft, golden brown with tiny embroidered salt flecks, its round body twisted into a perfect loop, like an adorable, carb-shaped hug.

I stared at it, completely thrown.

My brain short-circuited.

I turned to Kenan, wide-eyed. “You—” I stopped, shaking my head, too stunned to be normal about this. “You got me a Jellycat pretzel?”

Kenan shrugged, like this was completely normal behavior. “Figured you’d appreciate it.”

I blinked down at my lap, still gripping the plush like it might disappear if I let go. “I—this is—I don’t even know what to say.”

Kenan smirked. “Wow. A rare moment.”

I ignored him, still reeling. “Wait. How did you—” My eyes narrowed as the realization hit. “Jamal.”

Kenan huffed a small laugh. “Jamal.”

I groaned, slumping back against my seat, embarrassed beyond belief. “I swear, he’s worse than an actual gossip column.”

“He told me the full pretzel tragedy while you were shopping this morning.” Kenan’s lips twitched. “Said you looked genuinely devastated when I took the last one.”

I gasped, pressing a hand to my chest. “I was devastated.”

Kenan let out a real laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I got that impression. Little drama queen.”

I glanced back down at the plush, running my fingers over its ridiculously soft surface, warmth blooming in my chest for an entirely different reason now.

I swallowed. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this, you know?”

Kenan exhaled through his nose, his smirk fading slightly. “I know.”

There was a small pause, then—

“I wanted to. I like to see you smile”

I froze.

Just for a second.

It wasn’t even what he said.

It was how he said it. Like it was simple. Like it wasn’t a big deal.

But it was a big deal.

I looked down at the Jellycat pretzel, tracing my thumb over one of the little embroidered salt flecks.

Kenan cleared his throat, like he wanted to move the conversation along before I got weird about it.

“I, uh—” He rubbed his jaw, focusing back on the road. “I couldn’t exactly smuggle a fresh one into the match, so I figured this would keep you warm in a different way.”

I swallowed, my grip tightening on the plush.

Somehow, slowly over the last few days, my heart stopped feeling so heavy.

I glanced at Kenan, and for once, he wasn’t watching me with his usual smirk or teasing expression.

He was just watching.

Like he was still trying to figure out why I looked so surprised.

Like he didn’t realize he had just completely disarmed me.

I turned back to the window, hiding my smile.

Kenan shifted in his seat, adjusting the air conditioning like he suddenly needed something to do with his hands.

He still hadn’t started the drive back to Jamal’s.

Good. I wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere.

…

I woke up earlier than expected, the kind of early where the world still felt half-asleep, where the streets outside hummed quietly with the first stirrings of the city.

The apartment was still, save for the occasional distant sound—pipes groaning as someone used the shower, the soft buzz of an electric toothbrush in another room.

And then—

A loud "OH, COME ON!" followed by rapid button-mashing and what I could only assume was a FIFA-related disaster.

I groaned, pressing my face into the pillow, trying to will myself back to sleep.

It didn’t work.

Instead, my hand reached instinctively for something beside me, fingers brushing against—

Oh.

I cracked one eye open.

There, sitting right beside my pillow, was the Jellycat pretzel plush.

Warmth bloomed immediately in my chest, completely uninvited.

It had been exactly where I left it, tucked neatly beside me like some ridiculous comfort object. I had slept next to it. Like some sentimental idiot.

I exhaled sharply, flopping onto my back and covering my face with my hands. “I’m losing it.”

Jamal’s distant FIFA agony continued in the other room.

I peeked at the plush again, this time reaching over to pick it up, squeezing it absently in my hands.

It was too soft. Too huggable. Too… thoughtful.

Kenan had really gone out of his way to find something like this. He had listened to Jamal’s retelling of my pretzel tragedy and then acted on it.

That thought alone did something weird to my stomach.

I needed to leave before I started reading into things.

After a long, slightly too-hot shower and a reluctant change into travel clothes, I zipped up my suitcase and walked into the living room, where Jamal was still intensely focused on FIFA.

“Morning,” I greeted, adjusting my bag strap.

Jamal barely looked up. “Yo. Ready for your flight?”

I nodded, shifting my weight. “Yeah, time to go back home. Thanks for letting me crash.”

He finally paused his game, stretching lazily. “No problem. You’re welcome to crash here whenever your love life implodes.”

I gasped, fake offended. “Excuse me, that was one time.”

Jamal smirked. “That was this time.”

I glared at him. “You’re very lucky I don’t have time to fight you about this.”

Jamal grinned, unpausing his game. “Safe flight, man. Oh—Kenan’s out front, by the way.”

I froze mid-step, my brain short-circuiting. “What?”

Jamal tilted his head toward the window. “I think he’s waiting for you.”

I blinked rapidly, my stomach flipping for reasons I refused to acknowledge.

Kenan was… waiting for me?

I didn’t even have time to process what that meant before my feet were already moving, slipping on my coat and heading for the door.

And sure enough—

When I stepped outside, there he was.

Leaning against his car, hands tucked into his pockets, his posture completely at ease, like he had been there for a while and had all the time in the world.

The moment he saw me, his lips curved into a smirk, like he had been expecting me to be surprised.

“You’re awake,” he said, as if he had any reason to assume I wouldn’t be.

I scoffed, shifting my bag higher on my shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

Kenan shrugged. “Driving you to the airport.”

I blinked. “I—what?”

He tilted his head slightly, amused by my confusion. “What, you thought I’d let you navigate Munich public transport with a suitcase?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I was literally just going to call an Uber.”

Kenan rolled his eyes, exhaling through his nose. “That’s boring.”

I stared at him, the weight of this entire situation settling into my brain.

Kenan—who had no reason to be here—had woken up, driven across the city, and was now waiting for me outside, completely unbothered, like this was just something he did.

I adjusted my coat, voice quieter. “You know you don’t have to do this, right?”

Kenan looked at me like I had just said something profoundly stupid. “Yeah. I know.”

I didn’t know what to do with that.

So instead of overanalyzing it to death, I just sighed, adjusting my bag.

“Fine. Let’s go.

…

When we finally pulled up to the departures area, Kenan shifted into park, tapping his fingers lightly against the steering wheel.

I unbuckled my seatbelt slowly, suddenly feeling like this was weirdly… final.

Like leaving now meant returning to normal.

And for some reason, I wasn’t ready for that.

I turned to him, opening my mouth to say… something.

But before I could, Kenan reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out.

A tiny bag of pretzels.

I blinked, thrown completely off guard. “You—”

Kenan smirked, holding it out toward me. “Figured you might need some snacks for the flight.”

I stared at him, something warm creeping into my chest before I could stop it.

I took the bag, shaking my head. “You’re trying to buy my goodwill?”

He leaned back against the seat. “You love it.”

I scoffed, but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Debatable.”

Kenan’s gaze flicked to my carry-on, and before I could register what he was about to say, his smirk deepened slightly.

“Did you pack the Jellycat?”

My face immediately heated up.

I opened my mouth—to lie, obviously—but Kenan just let out a laugh, shaking his head. “You did.”

I huffed. “No comment.”

Kenan’s lips twitched. “Good. It means my plan worked.”

I frowned. “Plan?”

He nodded toward the plush peeking slightly from the top of my bag. “Now you have to think about me every time you see it.”

My brain short-circuited.

I had no response to that.

I huffed, adjusting my bag. “Okay, well. Thanks for the ride, I guess.”

Kenan nodded once, casual as ever. “See you around.”

I hesitated for half a second.

Then, before I could stop myself—

I turned back to him one last time.

And said, without thinking:

“Don’t miss me too much.”

Kenan’s smirk was slow, lazy, and way too confident.

“No promises.”

I stared at him, my brain doing at least fifteen flips, before turning on my heel and walking inside before I could make this worse for myself.

I had no idea what had just happened.

All I knew was that my face was burning, and I was smiling like an idiot.

…

Back home, everything was exactly as I had left it.

The same apartment, the same slightly-too-loud coffee machine sputtering in protest before coming to life, the same half-empty fridge reminding me that I should really start grocery shopping like an adult.

Everything had resumed as normal.

And yet—

I found myself standing in my bedroom, suitcase still half-unpacked, as if some part of me refused to fully settle back into my routine. My fingers ran absentmindedly over the plush pretzel sitting on my bed, its soft, squishy loops an absurd but strangely comforting reminder of the past weekend.

I wasn’t supposed to still be thinking about him.

I wasn’t supposed to be replaying conversations in my head, breaking apart the way he had looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, the small shifts in his expression, the casual, almost careless way he had handed me that bag with the Jellycat and the pretzel, as if it hadn’t meant anything at all.

I let out a frustrated sigh, squeezing the plush against my chest like it was somehow responsible for all of this.

“You’re not helping,” I muttered at it.

Unsurprisingly, the Jellycat did not have a response.

I groaned, flopping onto my bed and burying my face into my pillow, as if that would somehow smother my thoughts into submission.

This was ridiculous.

I was being ridiculous.

I had gone to Munich with a very specific reason—to see someone who had ultimately proved to be unworthy of my time. But somehow, I had left with something else entirely.

A new inside joke. A new routine. A new, completely inconvenient way my stomach flipped whenever I got a text notification.

Which was precisely why I should not have reached for my phone just now.

But I did.

And when I turned it over—

There it was.

A new message.

From Kenan.

I hesitated for a beat, my thumb hovering over the screen, already knowing that whatever it said would only make things worse for me.

Then, finally, I clicked it open.

Kenan: Buy a nice winter coat.

I frowned, sitting up slightly as I typed back.

Me: Why?

The reply came almost instantly, as if he had been waiting for me to answer.

Kenan: I’m playing in the Netherlands next Wednesday.

Another message followed before I even had time to process the first.

Kenan: I need you to see how much better I am than Jamal, obviously.

I stared at my screen, my heart doing a very, very inconvenient thing, something warm and fluttery and deeply annoying settling into my chest.

I didn’t respond right away.

Because I already knew what I was going to do.

I was going.

#kenan yıldız fanfic #kenan yildiz oneshot #kenan yildiz x reader #kenan yıldız #kenan yildiz x you #kenan yildiz fanfic #football oneshot

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gloomwitchwrites · 24 hours ago

Note

Not a request I just would really love to know how you come up with your ideas? You put out a lot of content and it always unique! How do you do it??

Oh my gosh! Hi! Yes! Of course! I'd love to answer this question.

Ha. Okay. This is going to take some explaining, so hang in there as I ramble (because I will ramble.)

If you were to crack open my skull and peer inside, you'd find a nest of noise. It's loud in my head (it's anxiety and likely something undiagnosed) and I am thinking about anything and everything all at once. Really, I should be medicated, but since I'm not, I channel all that energy into being productive because I literally cannot be alone with my thoughts. I require constant distraction.

Writing is that distraction for me. It's very soothing for my brain when I take all that noise and focus it on something I really love, and it always produces productivity and creativity as a result.

My best friend is always like "how the fuck do you write so much??" and it's because it's a coping mechanism. It's a bit like therapy in a way.

When it comes to the What If & Imagines series, I cannot take all the credit. All except a handful of prompts have come directly from reader requests. While those specifically don't come from my head, they do act as a great starting point. I think about possible angles by considering how I believe the characters would act in those scenarios. I start small, and then expand if I think I need to. I also go into them knowing that I do not want to rehash the same thing four times, and I go out of my way to make sure each is different.

But beyond that, I'm always thinking and questioning and considering how I can turn something on its head. And I don't mean that just for my CoD work. I take that mentality with all the fandoms I write for. I carry a little notebook with me, my iphone's notes app is a literal jungle, the Google Docs app on my phone is also abused, and I write down anything that I'm like "I need to keep that." Sometimes if all I can grab is a sticky note, I'll use that and then shove it in my purse. And if I'm in the car, I'll dictate my thoughts through Siri to add them into my notes app or send an email to myself (through Bluetooth y'all; don't text and drive.)

I also schedule time to write, and I make a to-do list of what I want to accomplish during that writing session. It helps focus my brain.

I also stay heavily organized. Like heavily organized. I have lots of spreadsheets that are color-coded, and I purposefully assign "due dates" because it tricks my brain into thinking "you must get this done because it is assigned" and WHAM, I'm plugging away at the keyboard.

When I get stuck, I only ever reach out to my bestie. Sometimes I just need a fresh pair of eyes when I'm rolling ideas around in my head but something is missing and I have no idea what it might be. She's great about throwing a few suggestions my way that has me looking at the story differently, or considering a prompt from another angle.

But it's important to note that what works for me isn't going to work for everyone. I'm sure one of you reading this right now is thinking "Poppy, you need to fucking chill." And friend, I wholeheartedly agree. But if I'm not being productive through managing my anxiety-induced head noise, then I'm running on pure rage and spite.

Anyway! I hope that answered your question! Thank you so much for sending it in, and also kudos to y'all who read through all that. <3

~ Poppy

#gloomwitchwrites #ask box #anon ask

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withacapitalp · 5 hours ago

Text

Stuff Me, Hug Me, Take Me Home

@stevesbipanic B HAPPY VALENTINES!!! Tis I! Your secret admirer!!! I loved this prompt and I had so much fun with it thank you so much and I hope you love it!!! Special thanks to @thefreakandthehair and @hairstevington for listening to be a little feral and insane about the first thing I'm writing in a very long time

Read on AO3 instead

If there was one place Eddie never expected to end up at on Valentine’s Day, it was the mall.

When Steve had asked to ‘take point’ this year, Eddie had imagined a day at the lake, maybe a secret picnic, perhaps even a scenic road trip. Something that was their style. A tucked away moment, quiet and held close, so it belonged to just the two of them.

There was no way the mall - the epicenter of American greed and capitalistic cannibalism - would have that.

“I can’t believe I found this parking spot!” Steve crowed, tossing Eddie a winning smile as he threw the car into park and grabbed his phone from where it was charging, “Wasn’t that lucky?”

“Sure, Stevie,” Eddie agreed, trying to hide his disdain, but definitely failing given the way Steve’s smile dipped. The mall loomed over them, blocking out the sun with its oppressively boxy architecture, and Eddie couldn’t help his own glow starting to dim.

The day had started so promisingly. Steve had woken up early and slipped out of bed without Eddie realizing, coming home with ludicrously over decorated heart shaped donuts and coffee from their favorite bakery. They had traded lazy sugar-filled kisses, cuddling and watching Labyrinth.

Hell, Steve had even managed to almost hide how much he disliked the movie, commenting on David Bowie’s ass and conveniently ignoring the plot and puppets. He hadn’t even texted Robin all morning!

And now…well now they were at the mall.

“Are we going to a movie or something? We could’ve just gone to The Hawk. You know IMAX movies give me headaches.” Eddie said as they exited the beemer. Steve came around the front, grabbing Eddie’s hand and squeezing it twice - their signal for needing the other person to listen.

“Trust me?” Steve offered, chewing on the inside of his lip and giving Eddie the big puppy dog eyes he could never resist. Eddie groaned, grumbling softly to himself as he lifted their joined hands up to his lips.

“Always,” he whispered back, sealing the promise with a kiss.

As much as Eddie hated to admit it, the mall actually wasn’t as bad as he had imagined. His brain had conjured up tortuous images of packs of useless husbands trolling around for a cheap gift to pawn off on their wives, or hordes of angsty teens lamenting not having someone to share the holiday with.

But at almost four in the afternoon it was sleepy, practically dead. And besides, it was hard to look around when Steve was dragging him forward with a single-minded determination. All Eddie could do was try and keep up, shooting glances at his boyfriend to try and catch his eye, wondering why Steve was suddenly loath to meet his gaze.

Then they were stopping short, Eddie stumbling and nearly tripping as Steve let go of his hand out of nowhere. He righted himself, about to tell Steve off for acting so weird, when he looked up and was struck speechless.

“You mentioned that you always wanted to go here, but that Wayne never had the money for it,” Steve mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck and leaning out of Eddie’s space as he continued to avoid eye contact.

Eddie had told him that, but just once. Only once. He could remember the exact moment. The two of them in the kitchen of their apartment right after the move, unpacking mugs as Eddie told the story of each one and placed it with care on the shelf. It was the last mug, the final story of that night.

“My dad promised me he would take me to Build-a-Bear for my fifth birthday. And my sixth. And my seventh. By my eighth, I stopped answering when he asked me what I wanted, ‘cause I knew it didn’t matter. By ten I was already living with Wayne, and I didn’t even want to ask him, I knew we couldn’t afford it. Wayne found out anyway, because he’s Wayne, and so he got me this mug for my eleventh birthday, and told me it was an IOU. I don’t even know why I wanted to go to build-a-bear so badly, I just got it in my head that having my own bear would be special. Something that was mine, and always would be, you know?”

And now here Eddie was, standing in front of an ostentatiously yellow store with his heart settled neatly in his throat.

“I know it’s kind of silly now, because we’re almost thirty. You might not even care anymore, but I thought maybe it would be a nice Valentine’s Day gift? We could build you a bear, and then you would have him forever and always,” Steve explained, his thoughtfulness continuing to choke Eddie to death.

Eddie didn’t believe in God, but it was hard to believe there wasn’t something looking out for him. Something had to have given him Steve. There was no way this wonderful, beautiful man just landed in his lap.

“I’m sorry I-” Steve began, obviously misinterpreting Eddie’s silence.

“I love it,” Eddie said, cutting off the apology before it could truly begin.

He couldn’t let Steve doubt this, not even for a single second. Eddie cleared his throat roughly, blindly reaching out and latching onto Steve’s wrist, pulling his boyfriend close and wrapping him in the tightest hug possible as he continued to ramble.

“I do, I love it and I- thank you, Stevie. You’re so- you’re just- thank you, thank you, thank you,”

“Easy, Eds,” Steve murmured, the tips of his ears turning pink as he pressed their cheeks together and gave Eddie a parting squeeze. Eddie let him pull away, but didn’t let him go, interlocking their fingers as he began to bounce in place.

“We’re going to Build-a-Bear!” Eddie giggled, his joy beginning to spill all over the place.

Steve nodded, smiling just as brightly as Eddie. But, when Eddie went to pull him forward, Steve held fast, keeping them both in place.

“There’s just one rule. I don’t want you to look at prices at all. You get whatever you want, however you want it. Got it?” Steve said with a mock stern look. Eddie opened his mouth to agree, then hesitated.

It wasn’t like they were destitute. Between Steve’s job as a sub and Eddie’s work at the garage, they were making good money. But with rent, Steve's tuition, and the regular expenses, they didn’t exactly have a lot of cash to blow on fulfilling a childhood dream.

“I’ve been saving for this, baby. Been doing extra tutoring on the nights you were with the guys playing dungeons and dorks,” Steve admitted, a pretty blush sitting high on his cheeks. Eddie’s heart clenched up again, and he couldn’t resist dragging Steve into a chaste but forceful kiss.

“You’re the most amazing partner, you know that, right?” Eddie whispered against his lips. Steve ducked his head, pulling away and squeezing Eddie’s fingers silently as they walked into the store.

The store was almost empty, even quieter than the mall itself. A couple of parents were watching their daughters giggle over clothes for their new stuffed animals, and a young couple was chatting by the little clawfoot bathtubs in the back, but other than that it was just the two of them. There was some bubblegum pop playing in the background, the kind of thing Steve liked to listen to when he made dinner at night. The sound of it settled Eddie instead of setting his teeth on edge, and he couldn’t help leaning against Steve as they approached the bins of unstuffed bears.

“Go on, pick your new friend,” Steve said, nudging Eddie forward and taking a step back to watch.

It was easy to eliminate some choices off the bat. Eddie took away anything that was themed for Valentines, or promotional, and he pretty quickly decided against anything that wasn’t a traditional bear. Normally he would’ve loved the contrarian energy of building a dragon or a unicorn, but he wasn’t just making this for right now. This was also for the little Eddie that had dreamt of having that perfect plush bear to snuggle with at night.

But the problem was, he had never really imagined what the bear looked like.

“Help me?” Eddie whined, turning back to Steve who shook his head fondly but walked forward anyway. Steve perused the options for a second before reaching into a bin and pulling out a charcoal black bear with brown eyes.

“What about this one? If you give him a battle vest and a band tee he would be a mini-you,” Steve offered, holding the bear out. Eddie took it, letting his fingers run over the fur and imagining the bear properly stuffed and dressed.

It was perfect.

They walked past the bear bins, up to a stand with plastic cases and the words “HEAR ME” above it in bright red letters.

“Okay, one more rule for today. Cover your ears and turn around,” Steve ordered, putting his hands on his hips and giving Eddie a no-nonsense look. Eddie raised a brow, briefly considering putting up a fight, just for the heck of it.

But there was something in Steve’s face, a glint in his eyes that just bordered on the edge of panic and a crook in his smile that made it sit not quite straight on his face. Whatever he was doing, it was probably something big.

So, instead of being a gremlin, Eddie remained obedient, turning on his heel and cupping his ears, humming one of the band’s latest creations for good measure. He managed to get all the way through the first two choruses and up to the bridge before he felt a soft hand on his shoulder and opened his eyes.

“Time for the best part,” Steve said in a soft sing-song tone, pushing Eddie towards the machine filled with stuffing where an employee was patiently waiting for them.

“Hi there, guys!” She said with a bright grin, “My name is Rosie, and I’m here to help you bring your friend to life.”

Steve, being the amazing boyfriend he was, somehow sensed Eddie’s hesitancy, speaking for both of them as they got closer. “I’m Steve, and that’s Eddie. It’s his first time here.”

“That’s so great! Okay so I am going to stuff your new friend exactly how you’d like him, then you’re going to pick a heart out of this box and follow all my instructions,” she explained in a patient but authoritative tone that reminded Eddie so much of Nancy he almost laughed out loud. He willingly handed over the bear, watching as she lined him up with the machine.

“Firm or soft?”

“Soft,” Eddie answered automatically, going with his gut.

Rosie nodded and went through the process of stuffing the bear, methodically filling up each paw and giving them a good squeeze before handing the bear to Eddie for a quick check.

“Before we do the heart ceremony, do you want to add a smell to your bear? We have some of our scents here, and I can go to the back and get you any one off this list if you want.” She offered as Eddie held his bear close.

“Remember our rule,” Steve whispered loudly in his ear, and Eddie rolled his eyes, his heart almost filled to the bursting. He pointed out a lemon scent on the list and they watched Rosie leave to grab it.

“Why lemon?” Steve asked, cocking his head to one side.

“Reminds me of how the house smells on Sundays,” Eddie replied. “All your favorite cleaning products smell like lemons, and all you drink from May to September is lemonade.”

“It’s a refreshing smell,” Steve grumbled, not a trace of heat in his tone. Eddie chuckled and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Whatever you say, Lemon Boy,” he managed to get out just as Rosie returned, a yellow bear paw held in her hand.

“Now while I put this in and add some final touches, you choose your heart and then we will do the heart ceremony.” She instructed.

Eddie peered into the box, his eyes immediately locking onto a plaid heart. He plucked it out, showing it to Steve who couldn’t resist laughing. It was the exact same pattern as the god-awful wallpaper he had in his room when they first started dating, and, without words, they both knew what they were thinking about.

“Okay, are you ready?”

Eddie nodded, bouncing on the balls of his feet as Rosie stood in front of them and held out her hands.

“So you’re going to hold the heart just like this,” she demonstrated, cupping her hands and beginning to rub her palms together, “and you’re going to make the heart all nice and warm and toasty for your new buddy over there!”

Eddie followed her directions to the letter as she had him flip the heart and tap three times (“To wake up his heart and get it beating!”) and lifted the heart up to the sky and waved it back and forth to give his bear very high hopes. He even turned in a circle, delighting in listening to Steve laugh at his antics.

This was the exact kind of thing Eddie loved to do most - put on a show and lose himself in being a little silly.

“Now, rub the heart down your back, that way your buddy always has your back. Rub it down your side, so they stay by your side forever and always. Rub it across your cheeks, so your buddy is always smiling each and every day, and hold the heart to your chest to make a nice big wish!”

Eddie paused for a second, closing his eyes and taking a second to think. He had lots of wishes. He wished his van would hold out for just one more paycheck, that the kids would enjoy the campaign he put together for them. He wanted Wayne to stay healthy, for Steve to pass his classes, for someone, anyone, to find the band and give them their big shot.

But there was one wish that was more important than the rest.

“The last thing is giving it a nice big kiss, so your buddy is always full of love.” Rosie said with a flourish.

Eddie was about to lift the heart to his lips when he paused, turning to Steve and holding it out. Steve’s lip curled in a small, indulgent, smile, and he leaned forward, pressing a long kiss right in the middle of the fabric heart. The edge of his lip touched Eddie’s thumb, sending a shiver down his spine.

From there the process moved quickly. Rosie sewed up his bear with deadly efficiency, and Eddie and Steve tag teamed the wall of outfits to find the perfect battle vest for Eddie’s bear. Before he knew it, Eddie was sat at a tiny little computer with his bear in his lap and Steve’s chin hooked over his shoulder, both of them staring down at the blank bear birth certificate.

“I don’t know what to name him,” Eddie moaned, leaning back against Steve, who appeared to be deep in thought.

“Beddie.”

“Beddie?” Eddie repeated incredulously, turning to look at Steve properly.

“Bear Eddie,” Steve shrugged, as if that made any sense at all. “He does look just like you.”

Eddie snorted, leaning forward and typing out the name, then hesitating and typing some more.

“What do you think?” he asked, trying to hide the sudden nerves that were lighting up his veins. The last name wasn’t a huge risk to take, but it meant something, something far more than either of them were willing to admit just yet.

“Perfect,” Steve said with a kiss pressed to Eddie’s cheek.

And that was how Beddie Bearington ended up nestled between Eddie and Steve that night as they lounged on the couch. Steve had fallen asleep two episodes deep into their Survivor binge, and Eddie was content to stay exactly where he was for at least a few more hours. He dipped his head down, pressing his face to the center of the bear’s chest and smelling the candied lemon scent that permeated through the fur. As he continued to cuddle his bear, Eddie felt something hard and square in the left paw. He pulled back, perplexed by the sudden change, carefully feeling around the object and wondering what it might be.

With a jolt, Eddie finally put together Steve’s behavior from before. He had somehow hidden a sound box inside Eddie’s bear, that was the secret Steve hadn’t let him hear before. Eddie slapped his forehead with a palm, unable to believe he could’ve missed something so obvious. The boys would’ve had words to say about their DM being so unobservant.

Eddie took a cursory look down to make sure Steve was still asleep, and then pressed it, putting the bear's paw up to his ear. He had expected a song, or even some funny sound.

Nothing could have prepared him for the soft tone of Steve’s voice, fulfilling the secret wish he had put into his bear’s heart.

“Hi Eddie, it’s me, your boyfriend, Steve. I want you to know that you are the funniest, sweetest, most creative person I know, and I’m so happy that I get to love you…because I do. I love you, Eddie.”

“It’s true,” a voice whispered from below. Eddie moved the bear and there was Steve, staring up at him. “Sorry I couldn’t say it before.”

“I love you too,” Eddie whispered, almost in awe that he could finally say it and hear it back.

He could hear it whenever he wanted. Eddie pressed the button on the box again just because he could. Steve’s words filled the air as Eddie nestled Beddie into the couch and dipped his head down, hair falling in a curtain around them as they shared another kiss.

#steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #st #valentines day #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic

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blushblushbear · 3 days ago

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So my buddy Nova sent me an off site request!

I'm paraphrasing a bit but the gist is 'what if all the boys were yanderes, and real ones unlike Cole'

so like-- real as in not comedic or unskilled enough to not incur bloodshed or a body count

Alright, Let's go! :)

tw: yanderes, no safety wheels

Nimh: the Dere-est of Deres and the Yan-est of Yans. He has the biggest coin flip in terms of his sweet facade. It's not even really a facade, he really is that sweet, but he also is a lot more deadly than you'd think when pushed to his limits. Also a lot more possessive than you'd realize. You don't really notice at first cause he's so kind about it all, so gentle in his guidance. You don't even notice until it's too late that he's gently guided you right into a cage. A lovely, special cage where you're right there for him to watch and love and care for. He'll never let you leave, but why would you ever want to do that dearest? When he can take such good care of you! He's always been good at taking care of things! Like all those little nuisances that were trying to come between you two. But they don't matter now, you have each other! And all this fretting isn't good for his heart, so why don't you snuggle in next to him and let his love warm and comfort you...

Volks: Low key already one aside from the killing thing. (could only really imagine canon Volks killing in self defense) But he's already got the possessiveness, the stalking, the OBSESSION. He's just grown so attached to you! He wants to make sure you're okay... wants to keep you safe... He knows more than anyone how dangerous the world can be, and if anything ever happened to you-- well.... It's better if that didn't happen. He can't let that happen. So he'll just keep a watchful eye, let you shine so bright, just sitting there silently basking in your glory. And if anything rears it's ugly head, he'll take care of it, no matter what...

Kelby: So I almost can't imagine him being a yandere. And I think he can't imagine it either! That is, until you came along. Meeting you, something in him just--- changed.... or maybe more, something in him snapped... he tried to ignore it, tried to play everything cool. And he manages! For the most part... but he finds himself texting you more, checking on you more, following you more, tracking you more... He doesn't need you right there with him every second of every day--- he just needs to know where you are at all times. To make sure you're safe. To make sure you're happy... he's probably one of the slowest to hurt anyone over you, but when push comes to shove, he will do it. And he'll feel bad about it-- but not bad enough that he won't do it again if need be...

Eli: He's like a pretty little glitter trap. All fun and songs and kooky energy! You started as friends and he knew pretty early on that you were his new little obsession. He's had them before-- where he's crushing so hard and low key cyber stalking them lol! But it's just-- different with you. He's used to being jealous sometimes, he DOES like to be the center of attention after all-- but something about you paying attention to other people fills him with a new kind of jealousy he's never felt before. It makes him so mad he could be SICK. He always swoops in and steals your attention back, but just doing that doesn't seem enough anymore. The constant texting while trying to play it cool aren't enough for him now. Cyber stalking turns into actual stalking, and he needs to know where you are every second. Needs all your attention, all your love. All for HIM! He invite you over more often, he still plays it coy, plays it silly, plays it cool-- but the way he watches you when you sleep belies how deep in his is. He knows he's being a mess, knows he's turning into a bit of a monster, but he just can't help it... He wants to keep it playful, but he's not afraid to call in some favors and get dark.

Anon: Plays it the coolest in front of you, is the most freakishly obsessed behind your back. Constantly watching and tracking you. Also constantly keeping tabs on everyone you come into contact with. He's not afraid to burn some lives to the ground at the drop of a hat. Either cause they messed with you or cause they got a little too comfy. He maybe doesn't want you around constantly, but he's constantly going to be watching you. He also uses this info to help win you over more and more. He knows everything about you, and no one, especially not you, can hide form him.

Garret: Some what similar to Nimh but not as extreme either way. Also he's to some degree unaware at how much of a line he's crossing. He stalks you on accident and doesn't think twice about it. He lingers and cares for you and while he's nice and even tempered most of the time, if someone is mean to you even a little they are getting towered over and glared down.

Dmitri: You're not his first ever target of affection, but you're defiantly his most intense. And I feel like he's going to even further lengths over you without necessarily meaning to. Like-- normally he learns every aspect he can about his latest darling so he can woo and win them, but he always plays it cool about it. With you, he is full on loosing his ability to cool. He's so desperately obsessed this time-- IT MUST BE LOVE! Also the jealous he feels, he usually doesn't feel jealous this hard or sometimes even at all (even if his target likes someone else, they will never LOVE them like they WILL love him. He'll make sure of that) but with you, oooo he's feeling the jealousy, and he's not sure what to do about it, but he'll probably do something....

Ichiban: another in the tries to play it cool and low key fails camp. I think he probably publicly laid claim to you before even officially asking you out, and will constantly bring you up in the way of 'oh, MY marshmallow'. makes it very clear no one is to mess with you in anyway and the only time he's not super nice or sweet is when they do. He's normally great with his fans but if someone says even a slightly bad word about you his smile disappears immediately and they are perma-banned from all his platforms. Likes to have you in pics with him or have you on the stream sometimes. Just letting everyone know you're HIS.

William: seems SOOOOO mild mannered, and he is, but he's also deadly serious about you. It's one of those happy loving relationships that seem so perfect on the outside and he's just a wonderful boyfriend/husband. And he is-- to you. But the moment someone even slightly puts you in danger or tries to get too close to you, they just weirdly ghost the world...

Myx: Another dude who publicly makes it known you're his. Constantly dedicating songs to you, calling you his muse or his heart, always having you around in pictures and sometimes even on stage. He's super chill and happy and friendly until something Happens and then he's got security throwing their asses out onto the streets. He'd never lay hands on anyone himself but he knows people and he has security.

Stirling: seems very chill and low key and romantic but it's a trap. He's using his sweet nothings to lure you into his castle. He'll find a way to keep you there, and dispose of anyone and everyone who comes looking for you. You will be his. You will live happily with him. He'll make sure of it.

Scale: STALKING MASTER. Also the king of getting rid of people quietly before you even know that they're a problem. Fully hides the more edgy parts of himself around you. Generally he's just a very sweet, attentive, dorky little edge lord nerd whose trying to make a sweet little life with you. But he's also very deadly in ways he'll never let you know. Things with him are very happy and safe, at least for you.

Sven: Is the most aggressively sunshine and the most insanely touched in the head when the darkness comes out. He seems so sweet and goofy and innocent until you see the blood and his smile as he reassures you he took care of it.

Cole: ya know that thick book, small book meme that's been around?? yeah, there was one time I saw that labeled 'Blush Blush, Blush Blush if Cole had a gun'. Yeah just--- put that meme right here.

Poe: Poe-ssessive! Ba dum psh! But nah, he gets jealous real fast. He shares none of it with you though. He keeps those feelings between him and his poetry-- and the 'little accidents' that can happen at night if he's too far gone. VERY obsessed, lots of poetry all about you littering his living space along with a million photos, only some of which you posed for (the others are taken in secret). Just a weird little obsessive goth kid whose maybe just quietly unhinged a bit.

Cashew: Another one in the you never see it coming camp. He's just such a sweet little awkward boy whose so clearly got it bad. He just seems eager until you stumble upon his room and find all sorts of photos taken from bushes and lists of things you like and places you go and a napkin you used and a bit of your hair--- it's honestly quite the collection. He also has a list of people you talk to regularly and brainstorming notes on how to get rid of them-- all leaning towards bloodless but when push comes to shove he's willing to get dark about it.

Seth: Nightmare man. All the stalking and watching and gifts and curses that make it so if anyone tries to talk to you their teeth start to fall out. He's not afraid to come off at massively scary or creepy and he's not going to take no for an answer. The riddle of how to make you love him is one he doesn't have the answer for yet, but he will.

Reece: It's easy to stalk your beloved when you can literally follow them from birth to death via time travel. He's going to use this to make him a constant presence in your life. See all your best and worst moments, find out all your favorite and least favorite things, just generally studying you-- finding out what makes you tick. You're his favorite subject. And he knows how to keep a watchful eye, just in case...

Logan: Another one in the very chill category, it actually takes him a lot to go full psycho and he's really resistant to anything too dangerous. He's mostly the kind to trap you in a way you don't realize your being trapped. Bury you with sweetness and make you his by just outshining any chance the competition had.

{I feel like I've done the kitsunes before--- I think I have!}

Aki: lil freak who doesn't realize how much of a little freak he's being. WAAAAY too into you, stalks you a bunch, learns all your favorite things, gets very jealous and possessive but plays it off very playful and oh me I'm just a wittle guy! A wittle guy that wuvs you! Wuvs you so much! Don't buy it, he's way more dangerous than he's letting on.

Haru: POSSESSIVE. PETTY. DESPERATE. He fell in love and kinda snapped about it and will go to any number of lengths so you won't leave him. EVER.

Fuyu: Mostly the scary type whenever you're not around or your back is turned. Can maybe be a little demanding with you but generally he goes all sad puppy or melting love struck idiot whenever you're around. VERY VERY VERY PROTECTIVE. Doesn't wish to spill blood again but will in a heartbeat if it's for you. (either to protect you or cause you asked, he's a little desperate to keep you happy I won't lie)

Ace: desperate, nervous, a little bit cracked. Comes off as mostly harmless and awkward and he mostly is. But he's also taking so many pictures of you from the bushes and collecting little things you throw away. I can't honestly see him hurting anyone??? I think if he'd have jealousy or any kind of negative emotion he's more likely to turn it inward?? like--- he just blames himself for not being better and vows to keep trying until he's the best for you. Another desperate to make you happy, he's maybe doormat levels of will do anything for you.

#bear text #blush blush game #blush blush #bear talks #bb game #sad panda studios #tw yandere #yanderes #yandere

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torpidgilliver · 17 hours ago

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Sure, I'll bite.

I'm aro/ace. I figured out the asexuality fairly early on, around high school or so, but kept dating because I was cripplingly afraid of dying alone. I threw myself at a couple of really solid friendships that opened themselves up to romance, and after the initial limmerence period wore off, I started to hate the partners whom I'd loved as friends. I broke up with my last partner after we hung out with my cousin and his then-boyfriend, because after a rowdy night of wandering the darkened city streets, it was clear to me that "enjoying a relationship" didn't look like anything I recognized. I told my ex that I needed to be alone because I was fairly sure I was aromantic and he responded in a way that still ticks me off to this day, by saying that he loved me and would wait until this phase passed. Every few years he texts me, usually in February, to briefly ask how I'm doing. Conversations with him usually peter out quickly after I tell him that I'm happy.

I was single through most of college, and living in a place where I had dozens of friends within walking distance purged fears of loneliness from my mind until I dropped out in senior year. I cannot stress this enough: regular in-person contact with people who make you smile is vital to your wellbeing. I'm an introvert who does a poor job of making friends, and this is true even for me. If I don't see humans who aren't my family or coworkers at least a couple times a week, I start to wilt like a sunless plant. I don't even notice until it becomes bad.

Where I am now, I've kind of fallen into. My best friend and roommate (and technically queerplatonic partner, though I'm allergic to any language that's associated with romantic relationships after all the bullshit I dealt with to get to accepting being aro) is polyam and pan, and damn near my opposite in every way that doesn't matter. She's disabled and autistic and needs patient help with things that might seem trivial to an allistic person. She's also a steady presence in my life who can handle situations that frustrate me to tears, and she's the only person I trust completely with every thought in my head that I might otherwise be ashamed to share. And we met by accident; we were both looking for roommates and the guy who connected the two of us with the intent of us being a group of three wound up getting muscled out of the picture because we were too close and he was too useless.

She helped me break through my anxiety to uproot from Florida and escape to the midwest. Her encouragement eventually got me to quit my last terrible job and find one that I'm happy in. And every evening when I come home, she's got the curtains thrown open for me (even though she likes to pretend to hate the sun) and the biggest hug I've ever had ready for me to walk into. I can't imagine life without her, and I'm not expected to sleep with her—or anyone—in order to keep this incredible gleaming light in my life.

If you're lonely and scared, I see you. Know that wherever you are right now, physically and/or emotionally, isn't where you will always be. For me, reaching happiness meant getting on an antidepressant regimen, linking arms with my favorite person to escape from a sinking hell to what we hope to be solid ground, and being pressured so hard at a job I hated that I finally quit and went to my dream job: admin in a small specialty clinic. Your path to happiness will be yours, and I promise that if you keep moving ahead slowly, eventually the fog will clear and you'll be able to see at least a few steps ahead.

Looking for some insights from the aro community...

If you're an aromantic person who is not in a romantic relationship but who feels like they are abundantly (or at least sufficiently) loved... can you talk a little bit about what your situation is, and how you found the people you did? It would really help me to hear some happy stories right now...

#i hope this helps #op and/or any others who reblogged

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murderofsomeone · 3 months ago

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it's probably decently obvious that my main lemon demon design was created BEFORE seeing any fandom depictions (or even really that much official art past the logo) because of how violently he stands out in comparison to other designs. it's a little obvious that my inspiration was self-contained and it granted me a bit of creative freedom along with a completely different train of thought while designing him. his three eyes however is very much a relic of 2022 because I was designing a lot of demons with asymmetrical faces at the time and well, why not make another

anyway here's a comparison of him to my most recent lemon demon original design (where it's a bit more obvious I was influenced by somewhat of a fandom culture)

extra bonus rambling under the cut

my general design process has actually stayed relatively contained with a few exceptions like soft fuzzy man's color and weirdly neil himself. yeah sorry chat neil is the first guy that was highly influenced by someone else's design you can shoot me too if you'd like. but I legitimately believe he's the only real example because every other character that has a design remotely similar to someone else is likely due to us both following a similar source material (like my cabinet design being based off polybius) or there being only so many ways to interpret the design (gef the mongoose would've fallen into this category if it wasn't for the fact I made him Joker colors)

in general I tend to follow a mindset of how "weird" I can make a design or how much I can push a lyric/implement it into a design. I also like to twist around the convention and try new things. a good example of both of these apply to my doctor amnesia design.

really the main things going through my head were "well he didn't state HOW many eyes", chosing an eye color that often is overlooked in conventional beauty standards to elevate them and cause you to think, while leaning into the somewhat otherworldly nature she's depicted in by giving her blue skin, a color I associate with the song.

another fun thing I'll do is create a "design pipeline" where I'll take an attribute and run it through a list of connections before we end up in a place long past where we started or just combining a bunch of traits that could be interpreted that way, resulting in designs like this.

though wolfgang isn't my weirdest design, he definitely did not start where we ended off. I believe before the wizard of oz theming for clown circus was set in stone (a choice that has EVERYTHING to do with oz explodes and an element I'll explain later), he was some kinda mirror object head that had absolutely nothing to do with his current namesake. since I wasn't satisfied with that design, I kept a relative aspect of the personality and shapes and thus ended up creating a really interesting take on a character who is largely depicted as... well there's no really good way to say this, but Bad.

since I was working with a new fresh aspect I started by making him a wolf... and then connecting him to "there's a robot in my head". this kind of connected the dots to ultimately make him associated to the tin man, since no one was connected to that character for the wizard of oz element and it was up for grabs (this is also how he somehow got associated with toasters via connecting the previously mentioned song to "what's in the toaster", etc etc). these pipelines of connecting songs that aren't normally related, but making them Work in a believable way makes designs more interesting for me and gives them a bit more purpose and personality. I think this is what ultimately makes people get a bit lost on my interpretations considering they aren't super simple by just being about One Song, but by being about multiple that aren't originally related in the source material. just like how I connected dr amnesia to when he died, explaining a bit of her more mildly supernatural or off-putting elements by making the man in that song her father.

the final real design element that I focus on is the strange rule I follow in terms of how these characters are shaped. there's a massive sort of "alice in wonderland" theming going on in terms of how human/humanoid designs look in contrast to designs that look less and less human. their proportions become more cartoon and shaped, their sizes are affected etc etc all while the human/humanoid characters stay relatively normal next to each other with more believable design elements.

here's the horrid long strip of nearly 100 different character renders next to each other to get a general idea on what I'm talking about

the silhouettes of the human characters "pop" less because they're supposed to contrast to their nonhuman counterparts. which isn't something I normally do, but given the source idea of a sort of "wonderland", I think it works in this specific context.

in conclusion: I'm design autistic and like to use designing to try new things, which is why I fucked that lemon up. sorry about that chat

#guy on the right is completely unaffiliated with the ncu which is why I don't think about him that much sorry ld #also imagine him with half circle black eyes like the logo design because that's legitimately the only colored art of him #nobody has ever actually asked me about this before so I will no longer wait for permission #debating whether or not I should even main tag this I want this self contained to my followers #but it's late so I'm sure no one will see this anyway erm #edit: fuck it it took like ten morbillion years to write the bonus stuff I'm main tagging #lemon demon #mos text post

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sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes · 5 months ago

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Pre-AA Virgil save me

Save me

Save me Pre-AA Virgil

time taken: 2 ½ hours

#y'know how some people used to baby him alot #I'm doing the opposite I'm making him an even bigger bitch #which is why the text in the two coloured doodles is from co09 #sanders sides #virgil sanders #pre aa #pre-aa #pre accepting anxiety #remus sanders #tw spiders #c!thomas #character thomas #the two very rough doodles were done in less than 5 minutes #might clean them up later #but it's 11:20 pm #rn #my art #sanders sides fanart #tss fanart #sasi fanart #i just. i love him so much #he's such an asshole #ESPECIALLY in Taking On Anxiety #i LOVE how he acts there #i can imagine the other 3 dark sides hyping him up right before he appeared #y'know how i keep mentioning an au idra i have where all the dark sides are introduced in season 1 so virgil doesn't get redeemed #(at least not as quick)#i was thinking of that while drawing this

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realtapiocafan · 1 month ago

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"notice me senpai"

ok, that was originally a joke, but then i kept on scrolling through ja'marr's instagram and these three keep on popping up in his likes again and again. like. on almost every post. it's hilarious.

they don't even do the same shit with justin or joe! ja'marr really is THAT bitch!

(also ja'marr DOES follow malik and jayden back. but not brian 😔)

#ja'marr chase #malik nabers #jayden daniels #brian thomas jr #omg guys they're just like us!#you think they watched bengals game and thristed over ja'marr like we do?#spent their sundays at lsu all piled up on a couch and swooning while ja'marr rips off a 40+ yd td #OH. imagining the texts sent during that thursday ravens game... and the monday cowboys game... 😳#my fic brain running on treadmills rn guys #how much do you think malik and jayden lord that follow over brian?#ok i found igexport (chrome extension) which can apparently put who someone follows in chronological order (doesn't list the date tho)#malik is like right before he started following jake browning so around dec 2023?#and jayden is really recent (prob after the commanders game)#I FEEL LIKE A STALKER OMG 😔✌️#i swear i'm normal 😭#neither justin or joe follow jayden or malik or brian btw

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lynn-tged-posting · 2 days ago

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HEY GANG we actually have ANOTHER update on this!!! YAY!!! making it a reblog instead of an edit bc we got a bunch of various new canon info!!! i'm super happy!!!

(if you'd like to skip to the info regarding birthdays, that'll be at the end,,, sorry hehe i just wanted to cover everything!!! there's a tldr at the bottom for your convenience :3)

if you didn't already know, webtoon released a cardpack collection on their official shop in collaboration with Taeyang Shop, and there's a ton of really neat cards of artwork from the manhwa!!! among those, there's a handful of incredibly special ones. a couple caught my eye, including:

this 3 card combined spread!!! alillojavi is real. the trio ever. i love them . if you look at the edge of lloyd and javier's card too you'll see the wooden sword that got broken by og!lloyd HELPPP WAHAHA

and these character profile cards!!! these are actually what i wanted to focus on for this post so i'll be talking abt these from here on out. with just the sample i had actually just thought the lloyd, javier, and alicia cards were face cards, but no those are profile ones there's INFO ON THE BACK!!! i'll share those in a bit nod emoji

i've only found a couple accounts on twitter that show these cards in their entirety, which i will post and link below!!! please do check out the accounts of the OPs i link, they post a lot about tged!

card 126 is bangul's profile card! she's so cute~

a huge thank you to @silentnewtbark for helping with the translation,,, trying to do this myself would've been insane!!! we both relied on translation tools though, so all translations may be a little literal/a little off. if there's any corrections to be made please let us know nod emoji

in each section from top to bottom, left to right, her text reads:

Bangul -REPTILE- // subtitle is assumption based on hamang's card!

Weight: 190g (before transformation), 3.5t (after transformation)

Body Length: 10cm (before transformation), 5m (after transformation)

Blood Type: Rh type

Favorite Things: Lloyd, Javier, sunflower seed, Ppodong, Hamang, Ggoming, Bibeong, soil (especially soil with granite powdered on top), exclusive diaper (for volcanic ash collection)

Disliked Things: Soil with a lot of substances, cold, excessive labor (rebar production) ruining her butt // struggled with this one...!!!

end translation! she's so cute,,, its so sweet that her favorite things are her little family of summons and lloyd and javier,,,, SO CUTE,,,

we also see suho's brand logo from the flag in episode one in the background of the card!

next, card 127 is hamang!

in each section from top to bottom, then left to right, his text reads:

Hamang -MAMMAL-

Blood Type: A type

Weight: 230g (before water intake), 230g + water weight (after water intake)

Body Length: 11cm (before water intake), 50m (after water intake), 70m (after oneshot skill)

Disliked Things: polluted water, places without water, midwinter

Favorite Things: cool water, warm water, seawater, lake water, pond water, well water, clean water, rain water, ice water, Lloyd, Javier, Ppodong, Bangul, Ggoming, Bibeong, drinking water and rolling around while fully hydrated

end translation! so silly,,, again love that lloyd javier and the summons are all mentioned in here, so so cute! i imagine ppodong's card says the same thing! i'm not sure if there's a ggoming or bibeong card though, but i (and the rest of tgedtwt im sure) will be keeping an eye out lol

NOW FOR THE HUMAN CHARACTER CARDS!

we were able to see the front and back of alicia's and lloyd's character cards thanks to sion_wp on twitter! a huge thank you to them!!!

let's start with alicia's! line by line, from top to bottom, her text reads:

Alicia Termina Magentano

09.28 / B / 169cm / 56kg // birthday, blood type, height, and weight respectively!

Likes: Lloyd Frontera (his plump butt) (// LMFAO??), strengthening royal authority, training in fencing, subjugating those that don't share her political views, identifying and punishing corrupted officials, seeing lloyd's struggle with his appearance

Dislikes: Lloyd's (Kim Suho's) singing, the house of nobles, banquets with politicians, National Audit Season, extremely sweet desserts, the sultan of the eastern sultanate (// Samarkand, sultan of Asfahan), corruption and treason conspiracies

end translation! IM LOSING MY MIND AT THE VERY FIRST THING BEING LLOYD'S FAT ASS IM??? HELP??? PLEASE HAHAHAHA

additionally WE NOW HAVE A BIRTHDAY FOR HER!! YIPPEE!!! this wasn't something i expected at all!!! another one to the list hehe~ she's a libra, which makes her an air sign! (javier is also an air sign) (lloyd bagged not one but TWO AIR SIGNS THATS CRAZYYY)

i actually really like that she is a libra, it really fits well for her considering she is described as someone who is extremely just and fair when it comes to politics and civil decisions. the libra is represented by the scales, which is commonly associated with judgement and the law! it also has an association with Lady Themis, goddess of law and justice, which is very neat and so so fitting for alicia! i want to draw her as Lady Themis!

now, let's do lloyd's! line by line, from top to bottom, his text reads:

Lloyd Frontera

02.22 / B / 181cm / 71kg // birthday, blood type, height, and weight respectively!

Likes: money, beef, cheap and plentiful food, free ticket to a sunny window seat (// i think this means he likes chances to relax in the sun??), Jjimjilbang (// korean bathhouses), people who buy food for him, Bora Bokone (// this appears to be a brand of ice cream!), Autumn (puppy), jeonju-bibimbap-flavored triangle kimbap

Dislikes: cockroaches, yellow flooring, voice phishing for investment solicitation, coin karaoke that's fancy and expensive but impractical, rainy days (delaying construction & limiting daily wages)

end translation! his likes and dislikes are so like, okay i dont know the better word for it but they feel simple,,, i hope u understand what i mean by that!! it's like... idk... he wants a simple life,,, relaxed and carefree and to only worry about the simple things,,,,,,,

(ALSO THE FACT THAT HE CANONICALLY DISLIKES COCKROACHES MAKES ME INSANE BC I LITERALLY WROTE A FIC ABT HIM FEARING ROACHES IM. THAT'S CRAZY THAT MADE ME INSANE. I WASN'T FAR OFF FROM CANON. APOLLO GIFT OF PROPHECY anyway fic plug here it is teehee)

WITH THIS WE CAN ALSO SAY THAT LLOYD DOES IN FACT HAVE THE SAME BIRTHDAY AS SUHO! YAYYY FEBRUARY 22ND

ok well to get picky, the likes and dislikes are all related to suho,,, so this could be suho!lloyd we're talking about. however, the stats appear to be for lloyd's body? so i think it's safe to say that lloyd's bday being the same as suho's is canon!!! unless the author says otherwise, but until then WOW THEY HAVE THE SAME BIRTHDAY THATS CRAZY!!! ITS CONFIRMED!!!!! THOSE OF YOU WHO COMMENTED ON MY LAST POST ABT THIS WERE RIGHT LMFAO

we also get to see lloyd's height, which also tells us javier's height since the novel mentions that javier is exactly five centimeters taller than lloyd! i haven't spotted anyone posting javier's profile card details yet, but hopefully once we find it it'll match up at 186cm!

for visual comparison, here's a sample diagram of their respective heights next to each other, created using heightcomparison:

WOW! quite tall!!! considering too that suho appears to be slightly taller than lloyd, suho could be a little over six feet tall, that's crazy!!!

on the profile cards, we also get to see seals for magentano and frontera estate:

so many little details in here!!! so sick!!! i'm in so much love this is so awesome I WANT THESE CARDS IN MY HANDS NOW!!!

as aforementioned, i have yet to see anyone post javier's profile card, so while we already know his birthday and height, we don't know his weight, blood type, likes and dislikes. hopefully someone pulls it and posts it soon! when they do, i'll update this post nod emoji

and that's all for now!!! a very long update, but so many goodies,,, the entire card series is full of so many fun cards - some of them are holo!!! - and oooh the things i'd do to have them in my hands,,, one day!!! ONE DAY!!! ILL HAVE IT!!!

i'm so happy about all this canon info we got too!!! so so happy! the archivist in me is dancing in so much joy!!!

if more posts about the cards come out ill be sure to report o7 but yes that's it!!! thanks for reading see y'all next time,,,!!!!

(tldr: WE GOT BIRTHDAY CONFIRMATIONS alicia is 9.28 and lloyd is 2.22! as well as heights, weights, blood types, likes and dislikes. also bangul and hamang profiles too!!)

WAIT SO IF JAVIER'S BDAY IS TODAY THEN WHEN IS LLOYD'S??

i don't think lloyd frontera's birthday has been officially confirmed yet, at least as far as i know! we actually got to find out javier's birthday because someone asked the author, and the author's response got posted, so hopefully someone can ask again about lloyd's!

the only two birthdays that are confirmed (to my knowledge) are suho's which is february 22nd, and javier's which is today, january 26th! though if i'm wrong please do correct me lol

edit: i've been informed that the unknown knight's tged collab lists his birthday as february 22nd, but whether or not this is canon is up to you, take that as you will! i personally will wait til the author / adaptation team clarifies nod emoji

#tged #the greatest estate developer #the greatest estate designer #lloyd frontera #alicia magentano #alicia termina magentano #tged lloyd #tged alicia #bangul #hamang #lynn misc #when i first saw the posts like. a half of a week ago i lost my mind #that night i was supposed to sleep early to wake up early but i did not. haha.#anyway i hope that over the summer i can make an archive website just for myself so i can store all these little treats and tged facts #like a squirrel preparing for winter...#“lynn why are you obsessing over literally just Tiny Facts” I LIKE IT OKAY I LIKE IT /lh #teeny little bits of info like birthdays and heights and things like that make me so happy . i dont know why #also translating / my attempts at verifying what it says took me so long so i hope they make sense #please appreciate my efforts... heart_hand emoji #i hope javier card reveal soon... i wanna see it... i need to know if lloyd is on the likes list. I NEED TO KNOW #ok that's all im gonna pass out now goodnight <- its not even close to night rn

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