#i almost pity sans

[qin-qin16]

hello qin-qin, it's your santa bringing you a gift this season 🎅🎅🎁🎁🎄🎄

------

Grillby’s is alive with the sounds of Gyftmas – or Christmas now, seeing that they’re on the Surface – cheer. There is laughter, there is carolling, there is Undyne trying to suplex the Christmas tree in the center of the bar. Asgore seems jovial than usual, playing his yearly duty as Santa and letting the children clamber all over him asking for presents. This year, Papyrus also plays as the Santa’s elvish helper, boisterously talking to all his star-struck little fans. Sans watches the commotion from afar, nursing a cup of the communal fruit punch. His grin is lazy as ever, but his eyes can’t help darting towards the frosted window behind him, where he can see three very inconspicuous shadows lingering.

you know i can see you right? Sans communicates to his self-appointed bodyguards with his facial expression, his smile tight.

Outside of the establishment, three suspicious-looking skeletons are pressed against the window.

“welp, he spotted us,” Horror mumbles, his single red eye glowing in the dark. He is wearing a beanie to avoid the snow rain falling into his massive head wound.

“he’s us. obviously he’s not that unobservant,” Killer replies, playing with his knife to relieve some of his boredom. “though he can be kind of stupid. so, tough luck – someone gotta keep an eye on him.”

“and that’s us,” Horror groans, clearly exasperated. “this is why i hate younger people.”

“ooh, does grandpa horror want to go to bed now?” Killer grins, his voice mocking. “careful of your joints grandpa – you might want to see them checked.”

Before Horror can snap back at Killer, the third member of the trio interrupts them. “focus,” Murder says, his voice sharp. “something’s wrong. the babybones is swaying.”

Killer and Horror squint through the window. And sure enough, Sans is gripping on the bar counter for support.

“oh great,” Horror says. “just what i need on the holiday – a poison attempt.”

------

Sans doesn’t know which is worse: the way his throat is clogged up and his eyes are blurry, or the fact that his so-called bodyguards immediately start jumping on him the moment he hits the back alley.

Within seconds, someone catches him and shakes his shoulders aggressively, which doesn’t help with his nausea at all.

“what happened? who did this?” Sans can vaguely tell that is Murder, by the way the touch is just so cold.

“can you just,” Sans wheezes, his words having difficulty forming. “lay off me a bit?”

“it was probably the fruit punch,” Horror’s voice is muffled, and Sans can’t tell where it is coming from. “he looks like he’s poisoned.”

“maybe we should check,” Killer says. “i can look him over for signs.”

“there’s no poison…” Sans attempts to say, but he’s not sure if his words are slurred or not, judging by the way the others keep talking as if he didn’t say anything.

“this is a first,” Horror says. “should we be worried about future poison attempts?”

“shelve it for later,” Murder says. “we have to figure out what to do with this first.”

“we can interrogate everyone at the party,” Killer suggests, sounding far too excited about the idea.

“no interrogation.” Sans covers his mouth, feeling bile rising up to his throat. “and definitely no stabbing either.”

“killjoy,” Killer mumbles, while Horror scoffs.

“yeah, way too late for that.” He sighs. “murder is going in.”

------

The party is in full swing when Murder strides in, his hood up and his hands in his pockets. He tries to slouch his shoulders, appear more relaxed than he actually feels. Everything is way too loud to his senses, but he has a mission to complete, walking as inconspicuously as possible towards the spot Sans was standing at.

Unfortunately, his attempts at being invisible don’t work that well.

Someone pokes at his shoulders, and he swerves around, almost jumping out of his nonexistent skin. It takes him a couple seconds to realize it’s only Toriel, who looks concerned at his reaction.

“Sans, dear, are you… okay?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “I just saw you walking outside. Is everything good?”

“uh… yeah. yeah, everything’s dandy,” Murder mutters, avoiding Toriel’s gaze. “snow big problem, heh.”

Toriel’s mouth corner twitches, but her eyes still radiate with concern. But before she could ask further questions, Papyrus (not his though) charges over with a tray of cookies.

“BROTHER! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? HERE, TRY ONE OF MY FESTIVE COOKIES!”

Murder stares at the tray of gingerbread cookies shaped like skeletons, his hand automatically putting one cookie in his mouth. He chews mechanically – the taste is… indescribable. He grabs a handful of the cookies and shoves them in his mouth, giving (Sans’) Papyrus a vague thumbs-up.

Papyrus tilts his head, then beams at him. “WOWIE, SANS! THAT’S THE FIRST TIME I SEE YOU ACT LIKE THIS! MY COOKIES MUST BE DELECTABLE THEN!”

“yup…” Murder mutters, shoving one more in his full mouth so he doesn’t have to talk. “first time for everything…”

------

Meanwhile, in the back alley, Killer has propped Sans against the wall and checked him over. Sans is still breathing shallowly, but it seems he at least stopped throwing up, so that’s good.

“well, good news,” Killer says. “it’s not poison, so we can stop planning a murder now.”

“since when,” Sans wheezes, his voice sounding like a broken kazoo, “is murder on the table?”

“oh shush, babyface,” Killer tuts at him. “what have you consumed at the party? do you remember?”

“just… the punch…”

“if it’s not poison,” Horror asks. “then what is it?”

“just a mild allergic reaction, i assume,” Killer hums.

“you call this mild?” Horror gestures at Sans, who is still unable to stand up.

“oh stars,” Sans conks his head against the wall. “this is not how i want to discover i’m allergic to fruit punch.”

“probably just the fruit. don’t worry too much, sansy.” Killer grins. “you can still get shitfaced whenever you like.”

Right at that moment, the back door of Grillby’s swings open and Murder stumbles out inelegantly.

“the punch’s not poisoned,” he says, his voice a bit slurred.

“yeah, we figured that o- wait a minute, are you drunk? did you drink the whole punch bowl?!” Horror groans, then yelps as Murder leans all over his back and refuses to let go. “get off me, you drunkard!”

“10g on whether murder murdered your reputation back in there,” Killer mock-whispers to Sans, a mischievous grin on his face. Sans slouches further against the wall, watching the whole scene in front of him with much exasperation.

“you guys… are the worst babysitters… ever…”

OMG THIS WAS SO FUN TO READ!

Practically a snack before the great dinner :D thank you my liege, this was really thoughtful and sweet 🥺💖 im in love with their shenanigans lol

[inazuman]

itoshi sae x f!reader tags: afab reader with she/her pronouns, jealous!sae, oliver aiku causes drama, oral f!receiving, hand around throat but not really choking wc: 1.6k

There are very few events you go to with Sae, few that he bothers to attend himself at all. It’s the first thing Oliver notices about you, that out of all the partners to his colleagues, you’re the one he’s seen the least of.

The second thing he notices is that even when you’re there, Sae barely speaks a word to you.

He wouldn’t think you minded if he wasn’t really looking. You’re kind and sweet as you make your rounds to the other players and their partners, much better at small talk and remembering things about people (how’s the new dog? Giving you any trouble? A new house! Let me know your address so we can send you a gift.) than Sae has ever been in his experience. But you’re careful to always keep Sae in your line of sight, like you’re always looking to him for something. Approval, or attention, or something that’s sort of like both.

Sae has his back to you, clearly begrudgingly involved in a conversation with Shidou’s arm resting on his shoulder. This is the first thing Oliver makes sure of before he approaches you when you’re alone at the bar.

“It’s been so long,” he comments as he slides in next to you. He makes it sound casual, smiles sweetly, and you respond so easily in turn.

“Aiku-san! It has, hasn’t it?” you immediately perk up at him, and it’s something he can’t help but find quite adoring. You’re quick to ask him about his life, and he lets you play for a bit until he decides he wants to pay it no mind.

“Sae doesn’t really stay with you at these things, does he?”

His voice almost sounds full of pity, it shocks you with how direct it is.

“Ah! Well- we spend a lot of time together, so it makes sense that he wants to spend time with his friends at these things. They’re a crowd! So he’s busy with them, you know?”

You smile nervously, and it’s that little feeling again that gets to Oliver – like you’re waiting for a validating response.

He could give that to you. But you’d have to give him something first.

Oliver taps the rim of his glass, condensation running down. “Mm. And is he busy a lot?”

“I…”

It’s at this moment that you begin to realize how close he is to you. In the hesitation, he cups one side of your face with his hand, your jaw in his palm and his fingers grazing over your cheek. You’re frozen, staring at him in shock. You’ve been Sae’s for so long, when’s the last time anyone has had the nerve to put their hands on you? His hand moves down to your neck-

Sae is quick to replace Oliver’s hand, wrapping his hand around your neck fully, gently and yet without the constraint or tentativeness Oliver had. You can feel the warm of his body behind you as he pulls you in, so close you can smell his cologne.

He’s got his characteristic neutral, nonchalant face on, save for one quirked eyebrow in Oliver's direction. But Oliver knows, he’s seen Sae on the field-

This is Sae when he’s pissed.

 “Happy to have you join us.” Oliver smiles, but this time it’s something a little more wicked. He knew he would come fetch you at some point, but he didn’t think it’d be this fast, that he’d notice this soon.

“You think this is some type of game?” If Sae was a lesser man, the sentence would’ve been spat in Oliver's face. It’s a near thing.

“Ha? Women are never a game.” Oliver pushes his weight off the counter, walks past Sae with a shrug. “Just didn’t think you liked her that much.”

Sae clicks his teeth, looking like he swallowed something unpleasant. He squeezes your neck a little tighter.

“Let’s go. I’m sick of this.”

~

“Sae-san, I-”

“Quiet.”

It’s not said aggressively, not like a command, but he still watches the way you go silent immediately in the elevator down. Even though you want so desperately to say something, to make things right. You are good to him. He knows it too.

“Oliver likes to mess around,” he sighs, one hand rifling through his hair, an air of exasperation. You don’t entirely get it, but it’s as close to it’s not your fault as it gets with him.

It’s in the silence of the car, darkness illuminated only by headlights and traffic lights, that Sae finally allows you to speak.

“Do you think I don’t like you enough?”

Your eyes go wide immediately, your hands waving in front of you. “W-well, it’s not- I know you’re really busy! And you barely go to these events, so you should spend time with your friends.”

You’re too nervous to notice it, but he watches, listens to you with full intent. His finger taps against the steering wheel.

When he parks and gets out the car, you don’t wait for him to open the door for you. Something in that irritates him, makes him frown. He throws his keys into the bowl in the entryway with a jangle, and when you turn around from taking your shoes off, he’s already in your space.

His hands are on your waist, pressing you against the wall. You try to protest but he silences it with his lips on yours, his hands on the back of your thighs and hoisting you up. Your purse falls somewhere on the ground. But you don’t care. You can’t care, because Sae is hot and heavy against your mouth and between your legs. He presses you into the wall further, grips your thighs tighter, holds you up easily with one arm as he wraps one hand around your neck and kisses the remaining exposed skin.

It's only for a moment before his hand moves back down to roam under your dress, pulling your panties down fervently, the way the fabric sticks to your slick already is something he doesn’t fail to notice. Makes him wonder if he really has been neglecting you.

He tucks them in his pocket and then he’s falling to his knees. You think you whisper his name but you can’t tell over the shuffling. Your feet never touch the ground, he lifts you until your legs are resting over his shoulders, holds you up like this. You try to tell him, “Sae, we’re gonna fall,” (he wouldn’t drop you, don’t you know?) but he doesn’t say a single goddamn thing. Just bunches your dress up and presses his mouth to your cunt.

The broken moan you let out is nothing short of song to him. There’s nothing to stabilize you except for grasping his hair in your hands. You’re a little scared, but he doesn’t stop you, doesn’t reprimand you. If anything, he presses deeper into your cunt. Swipes his tongue up from bottom to top. Makes you sob with the way he zig-zags his tongue up your slit all the way to your clit. He’s always like this – a tease, in control. He holds your arousal in his hands and on his tongue and he knows how and when to make you drip, in a way that ensures only he’s able to drink.

It's sickening, the way he makes your mind fog immediately, makes nothing exist but him in this moment. He does it a few more times before he relents. This is meant to be a reward, after all. An apology, maybe. He presses his tongue to your clit and kitten licks a few times. Envelops the bud in his mouth and swipes over and over, grips your plush thighs tight. You don’t know how long he does it because you feel like you can’t breathe, breath coming short, gasps that are like drowning. He watches you through it, your chest rising and falling, your hands shaking in his hair.And then he speeds up and your core tightens and your body comes crashing, first up, and then down. He holds you steady against the wall as you whine, your hot cum drooling into his mouth that he swallows up willingly, tight core finally relieving.

You heave as you come to your senses, nails scratching at the nape of Sae’s hair as he laps your oversensitive cunt, making you jolt. He licks you clean before he lets up, taking a deep breath. He kisses each side of your inner thighs, and then once more on your clit for good measure, smiling as he hears your broken whine once again.

He finally lets up. Holds you tight so you don’t slump to the ground. He kisses you deeply, lets you taste yourself on his tongue, makes out with you until you’re out of air.

Don’t think I don’t like you. He wants to tell you, but instead he wraps you in his arms, presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Why don’t you go shower first and get in bed, and I’ll meet you there?” His voice is gentle, actions soft, pressing another kiss to your cheek.

You look up at him doe-eyed. “Don’t you wanna-?”

“Mm. Later. You go first, okay?”

You’re too wobbly and wrung out to protest, so you go when he gently leads you both to the bedroom.

The words get stuck in his throat as he closes the bathroom door for you. I really do love you.  

He hopes you might already know.

author's note: sorry to make oliver a bit of a villain in this LMAO in his head he’s just tryna save you from what looks like a failing relationship! if anything he’s your knight in shining armor <3 too bad that didn’t work out how he wanted it to hm

[bombuni]

contains: poly!ateez x gn!reader, soft ateez taking care of u, non-verbal and self-isolating reader, implied depressed/chronically ill reader

you: babies i think it’s better if you don’t come over tonight

joong: Everything ok?

minmin: but im hungry and u said u’d make dinner :(

woo: WE’RE HUNGRY!!! OM NOM NOM

you: just not feeling it tonight. sorry

You shut your phone off with guilt weighing in your heart. You had promised your boys a nice home-made dinner after a hard week full of non-stop practicing. You knew they’d been looking forward to it the entire week, the stress-free time they’d get to spend with you, but, there’s a pit in your stomach that’s been growing the past week and now it’s big enough to stop you from doing anything else but wallow in your thoughts. Now the guilt just adds to it.

There’s times when you don’t have energy for anything. Not even for your favorite people on Earth and it’s simply your body’s fault. At least you try to tell yourself that.

There’s no response to your last message and you sent it an hour ago. Usually you’d be suspicious about the lack of whining and bickering, but you’re just too tired to worry as fatigue fogs your senses. You’re set for a night of self-pity when your front door unlocks, myriads of voices barging in and breaking the calm of your apartment. You already feel a headache coming on as Wooyoung, like usual, argues about whatever hill he’s chosen to die on.

You want to get up to greet them, but somethings stopping you. The pit in your stomach almost weighs you down, your limbs too heavy to move now. You sigh and surrender to your body’s fatigue.

Seonghwa watches you with a sad look on his face. He knows all the tell-tale signs of your sad ruts by now, the most obvious of all being when you go out of your way to isolate yourself. It hurts him because he wants to help you, but he‘s not quite sure how to do it right with you.

“Sweet thing,” he coos quietly and lays a gentle hand atop yours, “how do you feel?”

His attention turns a switch on in you, feeling yourself melt against his soft touch and caring voice. You shrug, feeling a loss of words. You don’t really have any to describe how you feel. Or rather, there’s a boulder in your throat stopping you from even attempting to say anything.

Hongjoong and San walk over, the latter immediately scooping you up into his arms despite Seonghwa’s protests. Hongjoong leans over the back of the couch, carding his fingers through your hair and tutting at the state you’re in.

“You’re not getting rid of us that easy, you know,” he mumbles.

San looks right at you even if you won’t meet his eyes, trying his best to communicate the worry he has because he knows words don’t work with you when you’re like this. Seonghwa flicks San’s forehead, pulling a loud noise of protest out of him, “Aren’t you supposed to be helping in the kitchen?”

San responds by pulling you tightly against him and closing his eyes in bliss. Seonghwa grumbles something about disrespect, but walks away to help in the kitchen himself. It’s starting to feel a little warm with San’s irresistible need to touch you and Hongjoong’s eyes not once leaving your form. It gets unbearably hot when you feel Mingi’s lips against the crown of your head, Wooyoung doing the same and immediately jumping into gently scolding you for pushing them away.

Hongjoong wants to agree but he knows it’s not what you need right now. He shushes Wooyoung, “Did you take your meds yet?”

You shake your head. Yunho walks up to you, bending down to hand you your medicine with a kind smile on his face. He takes your hand in his when you swallow your pills, kissing each of your knuckles gently, as if he fears scaring you away.

“Here.” Yeosang passes you a glass of water. There’s eight pairs of eyes on you and you can feel each one. It’s like they’re watching a zoo animal on display and you’d laugh at the thought in any other circumstance.

Jongho stands across you, intently staring you down, “You know you can’t just expect us to leave you alone, right?”

San pulls your head into his chest and throws protective arms over you as if you’re a kid getting a scolding, “Don’t be mean.”

Jongho is about to retort before Seonghwa stops him, “Ok! Ok, what Jongho means,” he kneels down next to Yunho with a gentle expression aimed at you, “Is that we want to help you, sweetheart. And it’s hard to do that when you don’t allow us to,”

Yeosang scratches at his neck as he finds the words, “We know it’s hard for you to do that, but…”

Hongjoong continues for him, “We’re just asking that you try at least. Okay?”

You hesitantly nod into San’s chest and you feel him let out a sigh of relief. Wooyoung speaks up from behind you, “You’re hogging ‘em, Sannie,”

He shakes his head violently and hugs you tighter, “No ‘m not.”

Mingi grimaces, “You totally are.”

It’s all-out war again and your body shakes between theirs as each one tries to take you for themselves. San’s still got a good grip on you as Yunho, Seonghwa, and Jongho fight to pull him off of you. Wooyoung and Mingi stand back and argue with San, really the only thing they’re good for. Hongjoong and Yeosang grimace and watch the events unfold, only waiting to step in if they notice you get overwhelmed.

But you don’t. You feel warm and loved and happy, and there’s a bubble of laughter forming in your throat and surpassing the boulder that was stuck in you before. You’ll take it one step at a time, and they’ll take that step with you.

bom note: this is for the gays with chronic fear of being emotionally vulnerable. i tried to make readers issues as vague as possible for u. Also realistically i would not want 8 men all up in my space when im in one of these moods but it’s fantasy ok shhh

[six-eyed-samurai]

SUMMARY: It's been some time since your death and yet none of the Hashira still have the heart to remind Muichiro you're gone. A/N: I'm not too sure if the title means what I think it means so let me know if it's wrong...anyways I got the idea from a fic of @oceanxmoonz, so credits! Also you can probably tell I got lazy at the end... WARNINGS: (y/n) is dead. That's it.

“Where’s (y/n)?”

Shinobu’s smile was a little faker than before as she turned around to face the expectantly waiting Mist Pillar, who seemed a little upset. She couldn’t answer that quite yet. “Are you looking for them?”

“Yes,” Muichiro said plainly. “I couldn’t find them at all this morning. Or afternoon…have you seen them?”

Was it sadder to watch Muichiro lose his closest friend - if not something more - and grieve about it for a long time after or sadder to watch him forget they were long dead? That they weren’t avoiding him like his amnesia had him think, that they actually couldn’t? He always needed to be reminded and Shinobu didn’t like to be the one to do so.

“Tokito…they died a few months ago, remember?”

“No, they didn’t. Ginko would’ve told me.” His eyes widened, then narrowed angrily. “I don’t think that’s a very funny thing to say, Kocho.”

“But, Tokito-”

“I’ll go find (y/n) myself,” he said abruptly, then walked off.

Of course he came back later with the same question; of course Shinobu’s smile faltered.

***

“…I forgot your name.”

“…”

Muichiro blinked at the stoic Pillar before him. “You’re the…something Hashira, right? I think (y/n) mentioned you. Are they back from both of your mission yet?”

Tomioka hesitated. He was honest but he wasn’t cruel. He knew exactly what Tokito was talking about, knew that he suffered from huge blanks in his memory. He envied the younger Hashira a little, to be able to forget such tragedy - however seeing him constantly wander around wondering where they’d gone was a pitiful sight.

So in the end he decided to evade the question. “Yes. (y/n) came back safely from the mission.”

The Mist Pillar’s eyes lit up. “Thank you. I’ll go find them now.”

Yes, (y/n) came back from their mission together safely. If only the same could be said of the last.

***

“HAR?”

“I said, where’s (y/n)?” Muichiro sighed after his almost shout at the disbelieving Wind Pillar. “Has your mission damaged your ears?”

“You little-” Sanemi checked himself. “I know damn well what it was you said.”

“Okay then, where’s (y/n)? I found this flower I wanted to show them.”

The older man’s mouth fell open, probably to harshly remind Tokito for the fifth time that month that who he was looking for was long dead and gone. Then it closed again.

Sanemi was not a soft man, evidenced by his scars, shouts, and treatment of his younger brother. But at the end of the day his intentions, though misguided, were what he wanted best for everyone. It was a tragic world out there and whether his next words were going to exacerbate it he would accept the consequences whole-heartedly - no one would fault him for not wanting to bring the poor kid back to shattering reality either, right?

“Probably out on another mission. You can’t keep hogging them to yourself, Tokito.”

“That’s odd…I thought they just came back…”

“Yeah, well, demons don’t wait for anyone!” Sanemi barked. Sadly, too true.

***

“Oh, Tokito…!”

“…Kan-something-san?” Muichiro’s face twisted in confusion as the pink-haired lady threw herself at him crying, pulling him into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” Mitsuri straightened and wiped at her face, plastering a bright but trembling smile for the younger Hashira.

Muichiro blinked. “Okay. Have you seen (y/n)? I just got back from a mission but I can’t find them.”

“…perhaps they’re busy?” Mitsuri swept the tears on her cheeks again. “Don’t worry, I don’t think they’d ignore if they had a choice, Tokito!”

“Oh…alright then.” Muichiro drifted off, readily accepting Mitsuri’s story despite the obvious holes for lack of better explanation.

Mitsuri bit her lip, guilty at her lie. Every day Muichiro would approach with the same question and every day someone or some way it would be broken to him that (y/n) was long gone but as terrible as it made her feel Mitsuri never wanted to be the one who did it.

He’d found the love she’d always been searching for. Unfortunate one didn’t survive for long.

***

“Young Tokito! Are you looking for someone?!”

“You’re really loud…” Muichiro tilted his head. “Have you seen (y/n)?”

Tengen and Rengoku shared a look - the Sound Pillar broke the pause first. “Tokito, don’t you remember?”

“Remember what?” Muichiro’s attention span was already running out. “I think I saw them today but I can’t remember where.”

“You couldn’t have seen them,” Tengen starts again, for it’s not the first time the Mist Pillar has mistaken someone else for (y/n). “They’re-”

“Oh, right…at the Butterfly Mansion, I think. Thanks for…helping?” Muichiro left and the two Pillars glanced at each other again.

“Who’s gonna tell him? He can’t keep walking around thinking they’re still alive. That’s just cruel.”

“But if he remembers his spirit will be beyond crushed - you remember how he was when he first found out. For now, when we need to be most vigilant, perhaps we should let him be!”

Rengoku’s voice carried a tremor of uncertainty, however.

***

“I saw Kanroji and you talk a few days ago. Did you make her cry?” Obanai glowered menacingly at the deadpan Mist Pillar.

“No? She was crying?”

“Yes!” Kaburamaru hissed with his owner.

“Oh…right. Now I remember. I didn’t make her cry.” Muichiro looked up. “At least I don’t think so?”

Obanai resisted the urge to slap his hand on his forehead. He leaned in clsoer. “Why was she crying?”

“I have no idea,” Muichiro said, leaning back. He brightened. “Oh, right. I was asking about (y/n).”

“(y/n)?” Obanai stiffened but took a step back. “Oh. I see.”

“Which reminds me…I wanted to go see her after our sparring, but I don’t know where they are.”

The Serpent Pillar and his snake shifted uncomfortably. “You’ll find them.”

Not really. Obanai hoped for the sake of his comrade that he’d forget he’d already asked the question and not stumble upon (y/n)’s grave.

***

Himejima too cried.

It didn’t really make sense to Muichiro, but he let the oldest Hashira lay a hand on his shoulder and say some prayers. He didn’t really pay attention to the wording but he caught his name and (y/n)’s.

It was safe to assume the Stone Hashira didn’t know where they were so Muichiro bid him goodbye (or at least he thought he did) and set off to go find them himself. From behind the trees one Shinazugawa Genya watched him go before joining his master’s side.

“Why isn’t anyone telling him?” Genya couldn’t imagine what it was like to lose someone so close to you, someone to love and care for, and not even remember when they were no longer there.

“Some things must be found out by himself.”

“Isn’t it unfair to (y/n)’s memory if Tokito doesn’t remember?”

“I’m sure (y/n) will understand…they were very patient with him. They will understand that he needs to take his own time in coming into terms with…”

“Coming into terms?” Genya’s frown deepened. “You mean it’s not just his memory thing?”

“Grief and denial are strange things.”

***

“Where are you, (y/n)?”

Muichiro knelt down by the headstone, dropping the bouquet next to him. “I hope you’re happy, wherever you are. I’m sorry I forgot about you for so long.”

He takes a deep breath and begins to tell about his day, like he’s been doing every day ever since he regained his memories after that fateful fight at the Swordsmith Village and befriending Tanjiro. He thinks they’d like this version of him much more.

“The demons have been awfully quiet lately,” Muichiro mused. “They say Kibutsuji’s planning something. They’re probably all out to get Nezuko. A big all out war’s going to be coming, I think, and I’m sorry I won’t be able to visit when that happens. So I’ll come more often now.”

He dusted off the stone, staring sadly at the inscription. “I’ll kill the demon who got you. I promise.”

At the price of his own life, (y/n) knew, sitting invisibly next to him, crying transparent tears but he wasn’t to know that.

[edenesth]

The General's Wife

Pairing: military general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

Word Count: 1117 words (I'd normally put it as 1.1k but uwu)

'Crazy Form' Comeback Special Series | Hongjoong | Seonghwa | Yunho | Yeosang | San | Mingi | Wooyoung | Jongho |

ATEEZ Masterlist

"Ooh, what's a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?"

You sighed, wondering when these men would ever learn. It wasn't your first time paying this bar a visit; they should know better by now to not mess with you.

Pushing your drink aside, you turned to look at the brave soul who was stupid enough to put his hand on your shoulder. He smirked when you remained quiet, "You're a shy one, aren't you? No worries, I can make things more fun for you."

The men around him were muttering fearfully amongst themselves, wide-eyed, "Does that fool really not have a single clue who he's dealing with?"

You shrugged off his hand and felt sorry for him, "Oh dear, I pity you." Confused, he followed your gaze as you showed him an emblem you'd pulled out from your pocket. His heart nearly stopped when he finally realised who you were.

"Y-you're... shit, you're the general's wife."

You winced, realising those might be his last words, especially when you saw your husband walking into the bar.

Seonghwa halted just behind the man, fixing an intense glare on his vulnerable back. In a voice that sent shivers down spines, he growled, "Have you grown tired of living, soldier? If you're looking for dumb ways to die, consider today your lucky day."

The man visibly trembled as he turned around slowly to face his superior, falling to his knees in fear, "G-General Park! I swear, I d-didn't know she was your wife—"

A resounding smack cut off his sentence as a powerful backhand slap connected with his face, sending him sprawling to the ground.

You gave a subtle shake of your head, silently urging Seonghwa not to escalate the situation. However, your plea proved futile as your husband, with a wink in your direction, assured you, "Don't worry, my love. I won't be too harsh on him. I'll give him just enough punishment to ensure he understands never to lay a hand on my wife again."

Despite his comforting words, you knew better than anyone those were lies. The man probably wouldn't see the light of day again. Beneath the sweet exterior he reserved for you, your husband harboured a ruthless side, a quality that propelled him quickly up the military ranks, earning him a formidable reputation.

Before becoming your husband, General Park Seonghwa was a fearsome military commander, striking fear into almost everyone. Uninterested in academics or any other pursuit, he was a natural-born warrior. At the mere age of 12, he knew he was destined to be the god of war.

However, amidst the battlefield and bloodshed, there was one thing he treasured above all else – you. His first and only love; he stumbled upon you in your backyard, clandestinely wielding your brother's sword in an attempt to learn self-defence when no one else would teach you. A noble lady yearning for more than a mundane life.

At first glance, he knew you were special.

Seonghwa vowed to make you his wife someday, and he did. Not one to follow rules, he sneaked into your backyard one day, scaring the daylights out of you. With sharp critiques, he pointed out the flaws in your stance, inadvertently teaching you enough to defend yourself.

In short, love blossomed before you discovered that he was none other than the renowned General Park, the King's most trusted warrior leading the royal army. When he sought your hand in marriage, your parents were more than delighted to see their only daughter assume the esteemed title of the general's wife.

Due to Seonghwa's crucial role in the kingdom, he frequently found himself deployed to battle whenever political tensions arose between Wonderland and neighbouring nations.

Despite his repeated warnings, you always made the journey to his war sites to be with him. During your visits, much like the current one, many of his inexperienced men, unaware of the situation, would mistake you for a lost civilian in a war zone and foolishly attempt to make advances.

Now, this unfortunate man, like those before him, would meet his end before having the chance to serve his country—all because he couldn't keep his hands to himself.

You were escorted out of the dimly lit bar before you could witness what your husband's right-hand man did to the poor bastard. Whatever it was, you knew it would be far from pretty. To distract you from the unsettling thoughts, Seonghwa wrapped his arm around you and kissed you hard.

Pressing a hand against his chest, your attempts to push him away were useless. He was well aware of your shyness, with his men watching and all, but that was his intention. He needed these fools to understand that you were his woman.

Sensing your discomfort, your husband gently cupped your cheeks, pulling back slightly to assure you, "It's alright, darling. I'm here. No one will dare touch you again. You trust me, don't you?" Without hesitation, you nodded; there was no one in the world you trusted more than him.

His heart melted at how swollen your lips looked, and he couldn't resist pressing his lips softly against yours once more.

With a self-assured smirk, he withdrew slowly, his arm securely wrapped around your waist. He turned to cast a cold gaze at the men who instantly cowered under his scrutiny, "What are you imbeciles standing around for? Don't you recognise who this is?"

They gasped and immediately straightened up, bowing deeply before offering salutes in your direction, "Welcome to the base, Lady Park!"

You acknowledged their greeting with a nod, and with an elegant wave of your hand, they finally dared to disperse. It was an unspoken rule that everyone under your husband's command had no choice but to follow. Those who defied these rules deserved nothing less than severe consequences.

As you nestled into Seonghwa's temporary quarters that night, a comforting warmth enveloped your heart as he drew you close in bed. Planting a tender kiss on your head, he asked, "My love, do you ever regret marrying me?"

Given your dislike for violence, it was truly ironic that you found yourself wed to a military general, of all people. He often wondered how a refined lady like you could fall for a man of his rough demeanour.

Before his thoughts could linger, you gently cupped his jaw, compelling him to meet your gaze, "Never. I want no one else but you." The intensity in your eyes conveyed a steadfast conviction, reminding him you were different from other women.

Indeed, you were special.

After all, you were the only woman audacious enough to capture the intimidating General Park Seonghwa's heart.

Would you believe me if I told you this man isn't my ultimate bias? Yeah, me neither. He wrecked me so bad this comeback, I'm barely recovering. Y'all stay safe tho lmfao.

Anyway, thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! As always, let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[lomlhwa]

intern (ot8) [volume four]

pairing: free use intern!reader x office workers!ateez

preview: getting this type of job feels so wrong. but you need money and hey, they're all hot.

tags/warnings: fem!reader, free use, perv!ateez, monster cocks for all of ateez i fear, it's pretty much all dom!ateez but woosan do like to beg to cum so do with that what you will, ties as restraints, hair pulling, spit kink, spanking (with hands and belts), degrading, praise, pet names (slut, whore, cumdump, doll, baby, princess), throat/stomach bulge, sometimes it's one at a time and sometimes it's five, voyeurism, hand jobs, oral (f+m receiving), vibrator torture, crying, anal, two cocks in one whole who cheered, so many creampies [these are general tags for all parts, not all of these will be in every part]

trigger warnings: if i forgot tags, don't kill me

wc: 2.8k

song recs for this fic: teeth by enhypen

a/n: final part :( I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS SERIES. thank you so much for all the love and support and i hope you'll look forward to my future works !!

previous - next

your body burns as you realize you still have a pair of coworkers left who want to use you until you’re completely broken. the biggest, most sadistic ones. they had saved themselves for last, loving how fucked out and positively exhausted you looked. it’s almost the end of the day, an hour and a half remaining of all your shifts. you had no idea how you were going to be able to drive home in your current condition, that was about to get worse. 

you roll over onto your back so you can see both of the massive men standing over you. you hold yourself up with your palms, gulping at the idea of what they desperately want to do with you. you pant, still trying to catch your breath from the way wooyoung and san had used you. you were drenched in sweat and cum dripped from between your legs into a puddle on the floor. yunho chuckles before nudging mingi.

“look at her, all spent and used. you’re basically just a cocksleeve now,” yunho leans down to throw you over his shoulder and carry you over to his desk in the corner of the room. he sizes you up, him and mingi basically being twice your size. they tower over you, trapping you in the corner. mingi wraps his hand around your throat, just under your jaw, to force you to look up at them. “you know we’re the biggest and the meanest, right?” he cocks his eyebrow at you. you nod tentatively, a small amount of fear bubbling in your stomach. 

mingi moves his hand from your throat to the top of your head, pushing down and forcing you onto your knees in front of them. your tongue falls out of your mouth instinctively, awaiting the abuse of your throat that is inevitable. yunho and mingi smirk at each other before undoing their belts and dropping their pants to their ankles. your eyes widen at the sheer size of the both of them, taking the saying ‘hung like a horse’ very seriously.  “look at our dirty girl, so eager to have her mouth filled,” yunho says, leaning down to grip a handful of your hair and force your open mouth down his cock. you cough and sputter around him, his cock jabbing the back of your throat with brute force. you bring your hands to his thighs and dig your nails into his skin until they leave little crescent marks. 

mingi chuckles, watching you squirm and struggle with yunho’s cock in your mouth. he strokes himself, watching as tears run down your face and saliva drips out of the corners of your mouth. you strain your eyes to look up at mingi with a pleading look. “aw, a little cock drunk, baby?” mingi’s voice is full of fake pity as yunho tilts his head back, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. you can tell both of them have orgasms that are building. mingi is bucking his cock into his palm, getting off on how utterly pathetic you look while being used. his veiny, slender fingers run over his cock deliciously, getting closer to his release just watching you. yunho is gulping down his saliva as his orgasm builds, your mouth feeling heavenly around his hard length. you run your tongue over the underside of his cock, feeling the veins that protrude from pleasure.

“fuck, baby, that feels so good. your throat is so perfect for my c-cock,” yunho mumbles, finally hanging his head to look down at you. he pets your hair, gently caressing you while tormenting your throat. his pretty fingers run through the locks of your hair, smiling at you like you’re his whole world. “mingi and i a-are gonna cum all o-over your face, okay? make you into a pretty painting,” yunho struggles to speak as his orgasm builds more intensely. mingi wobbles a little closer to you, jerking himself off faster to match yunho’s pace. “fuck, cumming, god baby,” yunho pulls out of your mouth swiftly, replacing your wet heat with his hand, jerking himself to release over your skin. mingi follows suit quickly after, covering you in a second layer of semen. 

their chests heave heavily, trying to regain their composure after a simple first round. once composed, the sinister vibe returns to their aura. “we know you took two cocks in both your holes, but can you take both of us in your sweet pussy, baby?” mingi hooks his arms under your shoulders to lift you off the floor again. your legs are wobbly, so you hold onto him for balance. you don’t respond, your mind going completely numb. “pretty and dumb, my favorite type of girl,” yunho says, leaning down to kiss your exposed shoulder. “you’ve been on all fours all day, so we won’t do that to you again,” mingi join’s yunho’s motions, kissing the other shoulder, dragging his tongue over your skin. 

“lift your fucking leg,” yunho whispers in your ear. your leg lifts as if it has a mind of it’s own, and yunho catches it. “good fucking girl. we’re gonna fuck you standing up, hope you can take it,” mingi snakes his hand around your waist, gliding his pointer finger over your clit from behind you. “yunho’s gonna go in first, he’s longer. you won’t have much time to adjust, we wanna use you as much as we can before the day ends,” mingi kisses the side of your neck, trailing your jawline with saliva. yunho lines up the head of his cock with your entrance. you’re practically dripping, coating his cock in arousal. he slides in with ease, your pussy sucking him in desperately. “god, you’re so t-tight still. how will you fit mingi in here?” yunho brushes your hair out of your face, pouting at you. 

as mingi lines his cock up with your already full hole, yunho shoves his long, slender fingers into your mouth. “suck,” he demands, and you obey without question. you focus on drenching his fingers in your saliva while mingi stretches you open. you squeak in pain, tears burning your eyes. “shhh, relax. i can’t get in there if you’re so tense, sweetheart,” mingi hushes you, trying to make you feel better. “take her leg,” yunho instructs, and mingi takes your leg from yunho’s hold. yunho snakes his newly freed hand down between you to play with your clit. your eyes cross and you bite down gently on his fingers in your mouth. “shove the rest of the way in, all at once,” yunho says to mingi. fear fills your body, you eyes widening. yunho jerks his hand side to side quickly, pleasure filling your veins as mingi forces himself into you. you let out a strangled scream, the pain almost overtaking the pleasure. you grip onto yunho’s arms for dear life as your body tries to adjust. 

yunho and mingi litter your neck with kisses and sweet praises as you finally adjust to the sudden stretch of your core. “you’re so, so perfect, princess. your pussy is sucking us in so well. you’re so pretty. the prettiest baby,” mingi mutters, leaving behind hickies on your skin. yunho continues pleasuring you by rubbing your clit softly, licking a stripe up your throat. he uses his thumb to hold your jaw and tilt your head back to give him better access. “we got you, baby. you’re gonna feel so good, i promise. we’ll treat you so nicely,” yunho jabs the back of your throat with the tips of your fingers suddenly, and you gag around them. “mmf, p-please move,” you plead to the best of your abilities.

both men draw back and slam into you in sync, black spots filling your vision for a moment. you gasp, your breath getting caught in your throat. you bite down on yunho’s fingers harder than intended and he hisses at you. “not so hard, slut,” he sneers at you. he pulls your jaw open and spits into your mouth, your reflexes causing you to swallow instantly.  “god, what a whore. you like getting spat on?” yunho demands an answer from you and you nod your head. “open wider then, and tilt your head back,” you do as instructed and await your reward, yunho and mingi gather their saliva in their mouths and let it pour into your mouth. you lick your lips and swallow obediently. 

yunho finally removes his fingers from your mouth, and moves his hand to grip your hip. mingi and yunho begin moving in opposition. yunho pulls away, mingi pushes in. there’s never a moment where your g-spot is not being absolutely obliterated. you lean your head forward and connect your forehead to yunho’s chest. both of them had unbuttoned their shirts at some point, and you had no idea when. you move your hands from his arms to his chest and drag your nails down his supple skin. you leave red streaks on his skin and he catches his bottom lip between his teeth while he watches. mingi wraps a hand around your throat from behind you, cutting off your airflow. “what a whore, she wants to leave her mark,” mingi comments. you lean your head back and lift your arms over your head to connect your nails with mingi’s neck. you leave scratch marks there too, enjoying the way his eyes cross before catching himself. 

you kept going back and forth between them with your nails as they pumped you full with their cocks. by the time you’d had enough, yunho’s chest was bright red and mingi’s neck was a similar shade. you litter yunho’s chest with kisses, feeling apologetic for scraping at his flesh so harshly. mingi’s hand around your throat tightens as their thrusts pick up in speed, getting sloppier by the minute. you felt so full that you were risking exploding. you look down at your stomach to find the rapidly appearing and reappearing of the bulge in your lower abdomen. you rest your hand on it as they continue fucking up into you, whining at the feeling. 

you rest your arms on yunho’s shoulders and lean your head back against mingi’s chest, your eyelashes fluttering. “yuyu…” you trail off, focusing your gaze to the handsome man in front of you. the chain he wore dangled between his chest muscles that were deliciously on display, his gaze frenzied and desperate as he tilted his head at you. “what is it, baby?” mingi, responds for him. you play with the hair on the nape of his neck before pouting. “kiss me,” you pucker slightly before yunho leans down to grant you your wish. he kisses you gently despite his pace inside you. “pretty girl has to feel loved to cum, does she? you clenched as soon as he kissed you, you little slut,” mingi comments as he reaches down with his free hand to grip your ass harshly. you whimper at the feeling and mingi’s words. yunho shoves his tongue into your mouth, exploring every crevice he can reach. saliva drips from your open mouths and down between your breasts. 

yunho disconnects his lips from yours to chase the trail of spit that runs down your chest. “so slutty, baby. getting covered in saliva all for your own pleasure? you love being used like this,” mingi tightens his grip once more before releasing you as you gasp for air. yunho and mingi begin talking to you at the same time, one filling you with compliments and praises, while the other degrades you for your sexual fantasies.

“you’re so, so beautiful. you’re taking us so well, being such a good girl. we’ll give you everything you want, just keep being good. pretty girls deserve to cum,” yunho mutters to you as he kisses all over your face. as tears flow out of your eyes as you border on your orgasm, yunho kisses the tears away. he circles your clit with his middle finger, desperate to get an orgasm out of you. “you’re a whore. disgusting and desperate for more despite everything we’re giving you. can you be any greedier? look at you, clenching the more we talk,” mingi spoke harshly in your ear. he used his large hands to leave dark hand prints and bruises along your ass and hips. the stark contrast between them was driving you to the edge quickly.

your whole body begins to shake as your orgasm creeps up on you. “ple-ah, please please i need to cum,” you beg, your back arching. your eyes roll into the back of your head as yunho moves his fingers faster. “cum for us baby, you’re doing so well,” yunho watches as you border on losing consciousness from how hard you cum. and yet, they never stop thrusting into you. sensitivity takes over your body and you twitch uncontrollably. “gonna fill you up soon, baby. we want you to cum again,” yunho explains, watching your face contort in pain and pleasure. “come on, cockslut, you know you wanna cum again. two cocks gets you going more than anything else,” mingi demands, another orgasm teetering on the edge.

yunho connects his lips with yours again, his own orgasm being just out of reach. he mumbles against your lips for you to cum, to give him what he wants. finally, your orgasm is ripped out of you and you bite down on yunho’s lip as you finish. you draw blood and you’re quick to lick it up, feeling guilty. yunho removes his hands from their current positions and wraps his arms around your waist. mingi wraps his one arm, that’s not holding your leg, around your shoulders. “please, please cum inside me, i-i need it,” you plead and they both squeeze you tightly as they fill you up with their seed. your whole body gives out at the feeling. if not for mingi’s hold on your leg, you surely would’ve slithered to the floor. 

the three of you stay perfectly still for a moment, catching your breath and enjoying the buzzing feeling the pleasure leaves behind. mingi lets go of your limp limbs carefully, making sure you plant your feet firmly on the floor. they pull out slowly, your body immediately turning cold and aching at the emptiness. despite mingi’s efforts, you crumple to the floor. they’re quick to crouch next to you, scanning your body. “want some water, sweetheart?” mingi offers, and you nod. yunho rises to fix his clothes before returning to your level to pick you up bridal style. he sets you down in your office chair just as mingi returns. you chug half the bottle of water before putting it down on your desk.

you watch as the clock ticks to signal the end of your shift and dread fills your veins. you can’t drive in this condition, let alone leave this room. multiple members in the room watch your face as it fills with panic. san rises from his chair, removing his suit jacket followed by his shirt. he hands you his shirt to wear as he puts his suit jacket back on. you button it up over your exposed skin, reaching down to grab your long discarded bra and shove it into your bag. you stand up cautiously to pull your skirt down, despite it now being covered in stains. you hold your car keys in your hand, staring at them worriedly. “i’ll drive you home and then take a cab back to my house,” seonghwa says, taking your keys from you. yunho grabs your bag as seonghwa sweeps you off your feet and begins carrying you out of the building. this earns you many strange stares, but you’re too tired to care.

all of them had followed you out to your car, seonghwa setting your down in the passenger seat as yunho placed your bag in your lap. seonghwa climbs into the driver’s seat and starts your car, getting ready to get you home and in bed for some sleep. everyone else crowds around your window, all smiles and compliments. they express their excitement to have you working with them and how wonderful you are. “get home safe, y/n,” jongho says before ushering everyone away from your car. 

seonghwa begins backing up before swiftly pulling out of the parking lot. you wave to the group of seven men who watch you leave eagerly. you collapse into your seat with a huff, exhaustion taking over your body. you look over to seonghwa and smile, and he matches your energy. he pats your head before turning back to the road to get you home safely. you curl into a ball and rest your head on the car door before you hear seonghwa speak again.

“welcome to strictland corps, ateez zone is where you belong now.”

© lomlhwa 2024

taglist:

@nopension @cursedeastern @certifiedmoa @tunafishyfishylike @4ngel-f4ngzz @mingisdimple @anxiousskylar @sanhwalvr @querencieaz @vtyb23 @dawn-iscozy

[woncon]

hi i read your stories and you're awesome!! can i please request a san and wooyoung scenario where they're making coffee for you in the morning?

Hi dear Anon! 🥰

Thank you for the kind words & the request. I'd a fun time writing it. I hope you'll like it too! 💗💗

➳ a cup of care

➶ poly!woosan x gn!reader ｡˚ °

-ˏ` ✎﹏ San forgot to take the coffee machine to the mechanic. But instead of admitting it, he wants to become a home barista, making coffee for you every morning until he can actually take the machine to the repairman.

When Wooyoung finds out what he's up to, he won't tell you. He decides to help to keep San's secret and make nice coffee so you won't tell the difference.

Keeping it from you may seem easy.

It's not.

➴ genre: fluff, light angst, estabilished relationship, polyamory

: ̗̀➛ warnings: half-naked san, who is also a baby

⌨ :: 2.3K words ♡ ︵ . .

⁀➷ kisses and hugs for @honeytwo!!

➳ ateez masterlist | main masterlist

At 5:30 on a Monday morning, Wooyoung strode out into the kitchen. He was looking for San to drag him back to bed. You both slept easier and deeper when the boy was there. You clung to him eagerly, and he usually couldn't even slip away without you being alarmed that he was gently shaking you off him.

Wooyoung expected San to come for a glass of water. That was not the case. The broad-shouldered boy in his pyjamas leaned against the kitchen counter and watched a video in contemplation. At his fingertips were a colander, a bag of what looked like cat food, mugs and the kitchen scale.

Wooyoung curiously ventured closer. The parquet floor creaked under his socked feet.

San turned around like the hyperventilating protagonist of a horror film.

“Hi!” He paused the video so quickly that his phone fell on its face.

“Hi…” Wooyoung took a closer look at the prepared equipment. He picked up the filter and poked the bag. There was something hard inside. “What are you doing? Is this some kind of workout stuff? Or poison?”

“Poison?” San laughed awkwardly and shook his head as if he'd been caught.

“Are you... okay?”

“Of course. I just, uh, wanted to surprise you. Could you go back to bed and keep it a surprise?” San patted Wooyoung's waist. “I promise I'll be ready quickly.”

Wooyoung took pity on him. It was like San to wake up at sunrise to surprise the two people he loved the most. He didn't want to bother him any longer. He pressed a consenting kiss to San's cheek and would have turned back to try to fall back asleep in your embrance, but noticed the pattern at the bottom of the bag.

It was minimalist and almost blended into the caramel colour of the bag, but it was there nonetheless. Three coffee beans. It wasn't cat food, then.

Wooyoung blinked. He walked around San then held the bag in front of his face, and the heavy scent emanating from it immediately hit him in the nose. He pointed incredulously at San, whose neck was flushed.

“You forgot!” he said in disbelief.

“I have not!”

The other walked over to the coffee machine, plugged it in and tried to turn it on. It did the same thing it had been doing for the last few days: all the buttons flickered red and the machine whined, as if it would die at any moment and couldn't make the slightest coffee.

“Oh, but you forgot.” Wooyoung patted the poor steam and turned off the power. “Y/n specifically asked you to do that, remember? They even made your breakfast so you'd write down in your diary the appointment they'd booked with the plumber. And you forgot.”

San pouted in surrender. “Why are you mocking me now?”

“I'm just having a little fun.” Wooyoung grinned. “I'm usually the bad boyfriend here.”

“You're not a bad boyfriend.”

“But I forget more often than you, pearl of men.” Wooyoung looked through the assorted tools again. “So?”

“So what?”

“How can I help you?”

“You want to help?” San was surprised. “I thought you were going to tell our baby.”

“‘Course not. I don't want them to be sad. I'll help make sure they get their coffee and don't notice the difference until the machine is fixed.”

“See, Woo?” San's all brightened up. He stroked Wooyoung's face. “You're not a bad boyfriend.”

“Still, I'll help you cover up your forgetfulness.”

“Because you're my great boyfriend.” San pulled him close and showered him with kisses.

Wooyoung carefully pushed him away. It wouldn't have ended well if the coffee project hadn't progressed, because they were kissing and slowly forgetting about everything but each other.

“So where do we start?”

San set up his phone, tilted it at the microwave again, and they both dug into the information presented to them on how to make quality, home-brewed coffee.

****

Only five days. That's how long they had to wait before San could actually take the coffee machine to the mechanic. The earliest the man could meet San was Saturday afternoon. In the meantime, the two boys not only had to make homemade coffee by grinding and filtering, but also to make the coffee taste very similar to the one the machine made. Wooyoung took on the role of the pre-taster.

You liked the coffee on Monday. Although you noted that the program seemed to be quieter this time, you didn't find the taste strange. San laughed and wiped a spot of coffee off the edge of your mouth.

"I think you just slept too deeply. In the kitchen it was as loud and lively as ever. The mechanic did a good job."

As you took your next sip, he glanced warily at Woooyung.

The next day, Wooyoung played coffee machine sounds from his phone while San ground coffee beans. You drank again, this time making no comment on the missing mechanical sounds.

On the third day, Wednesday, you resented that neither of them were with you anymore. You got up early and called them.

“Shit! They're coming!” San tried to cover up his intimate parts like a caught-in-act lover: the filter, the cups, and of course the bag of coffee beans he hid in various places around the apartment as if they were a dangerous piece of his tainted past - even though he had no tainted past.

“Go, distract them!” Wooyoung took up the grind that day. He didn't want to stop, especially since his skin had soaked up the smell of coffee beans that his sense of smell was completely dulled. Of course, you would have smelled it. 

Wooyoung didn't want questions about why he smelled thick and heavy like fresh coffee beans.

"Okay," San nodded. “Okay.”

Then he took off his pyjama top. Wooyoung's eyes widened. He didn't mean it that way, he would have added, but San and his refreshing body were gone.

“Do you want to take a shower with me?” his question filtered out from the living room. “I'd be happy to wash your back.”

Of course, you couldn't say no to that.

San had handled the emergency well enough, Wooyoung admitted. He had meanwhile finished his fresh coffee peacefully and even toyed with the idea of opening a coffee shop for a moment. He served it with a wide smile, and bathed contentedly in the showery scent of your neck and the melody of your appreciative humming, as if you knew he made it for you, not the coffee machine.

Everything went smoothly on Thursday, they even finished faster than before. They were really practiced and coordinated. They had time to lie back down next to you and gently caress you into wakefulness.

Wooyoung enjoyed the week, and even if the thought of failing at some point occurred to him, he dismissed the idea. They were a good team, and so far they'd done a great job, making delicious coffees and putting big smiles on your face with their hot brews. If you'd mentioned the coffee smell, he'd have bought a coffee shower gel to explain it. He and San ran through many scenarios to prepare for possible danger. Two more days was not the end of the world.

Although, you seemed to want to bring the world to an end. You also wanted to have a cup of coffee on Friday afternoon.

“Since the coffee machine got fixed, the coffee tastes better. And I'm busy, I need to recharge,” you said.

Your boyfriends couldn't let you touch the machine. The minute you turn it on, they're busted, even though they've been so good at hiding San's screw-up. They had another quick look.

“How about we go to that coffee shop you always daydreams about?” Wooyoung suggested.

“Really?” You froze, a faint frown of thought appearing on your face. “But it's an expensive place.”

"We want to make you happy," San nodded. “It's worth every penny.”

And of course they would have gone to great lengths to make sure you didn't even look at the coffee machine for a few more days.

“Well, okay," you smiled in agreement.

Friday's panic situation had been well averted. Wooyoung now really thought they were on the straight and narrow, only one brewed coffee away from success. 

Well, Wooyoung hadn't factored San's Saturday morning breakdown into his immediate future.

As usual, they divided the duties. San ground the coffee beans, and Wooyoung set the Bluetooth speaker at just the right angle to make sure you could hear the coffee machine sounds playing and soothe you half asleep.

“Woo…”

Wooyoung looked up. It was rare to see San like that. He was a strong mountain, straight and taut. But now he was hunched over the counter, looking powerless. His eyes radiated uncertainty.

“I think I am the bad boyfriend.”

“What?” Wooyoung tried to process the information as quickly as possible. “You? You're literally boyfriend material. If you were single, everyone would be fighting for you. Even though you're ours, Y/n and I have to be careful not to let them take you away from us.” Wooyoung stroked the back of San’s hand. “You're not a bad friend, Sanie. You're absolutely not.”

“I've been lying to Y/n for almost a week.”

“Because you don't want them to drink powdered coffee. You take care of them. You ordered quality coffee from some classy guy.” Wooyoung took over the grinder from him. “And you can tell them the truth in the afternoon, if you want. I don't think they'll be angry, they'll probably just laugh at us.”

San still pouted ruefully, but he no longer hunched forward so tragically.

“Go and cuddle them. I'll finish this.”

“Can you?”

“Of course I can.” Wooyoung pulled the bag of coffee beans in front of him and smiled encouragingly at the other. “You know, thanks to you, I became a coffee master.”

Before Wooyoung could concentrate on making your morning coffee, San pulled him close and planted a long, sloppy kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you.”

“It is the least I can do. Now go. And don't let our baby out of bed!”

****

“Careful, careful," Wooyoung murmured as he handed you the mug. “It's hot. Very hot. Like your skin... hmm… let me lie back a bit.”

Wooyoung stretched out beside you, satisfied, once the coffee was safely in the palm of your hand. He rested his head against your waist and was about to look for a blanket that would hopefully preserve some body heat, but instead he got San himself as a blanket. He didn't complain.

“Gosh, the kitchen stone is so cold,” he whimpered.

“Well,” one of your hands went into his hair and gently massaged his scalp. “Next time, put on another layer of socks. Or don't go out. I can make my own coffee.”

“I wanted to be nice to you so you wouldn't leave me for this sexy guy behind me.”

While you giggled, San hugged Wooyoung even tighter, and the boy was reminded of how strong San is. And how much he loves it when he has time to spend the morning with the two of you.

“Oh, that can't happen. What would we do without you?” You stroked his cheek and San hummed in agreement.

What's for sure, at this point Wooyoung didn't feel like a bad boyfriend. In fact, he was proud that he could be here, that you both loved him.

“And thanks for the whipped cream, too, Woo.”

“You're welcome. I made it with love. I would have also put cinnamon on it, but I couldn't find any.”

"You must not have seen it from the bag of coffee beans," you said.

San's body tensed around Wooyoung. Wooyoung himself twitched.

“What?”

“The coffee bean bag. The one you hid as if it were a drug. A few days ago, it just covered up the cinnamon.”

San let Wooyoung go and sat up. He just blinked and waited for you to say something else. You didn't. You drank your coffee peacefully, your face smeared with whipped cream without a spoon to use.

“Don't look at me like that. I wasn't complaining about not liking it. In fact, you made it delicious.”

“You knew?” San was stunned. “Why didn't you tell us?”

“Because the coffee is delicious,” you drank some more. “And you've been very enthusiastic all week. I think you guys had fun too. Or am I wrong?”

“When did you find out?” Wooyoung asked, pulling his knees to his chest.

You frowned thoughtfully.

“I think it was Wednesday. Sannie got a call from the 'coffee guy'. I thought it was about the mechanic, so I picked it up while Sannie was getting dressed. The guy asked if I was happy with the merchandise and if I wanted to order another package. When I asked if he was talking about capsules, he hung up. I may or may not offended him.”

San crawled closer to you on the mattress. He took your face in the palm of his hand and kissed the whipped cream off. “I’m sorry.”

“I'm not mad. After all, you showed me that my boyfriends could make better coffee than my machine.” You pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. "However, I don't want you to spend every day sculpting in the kitchen to make me happy. I'd rather have you here with me and the coffee machine do my coffee.”

“That's what we want.” Wooyoung nodded, then leaned his head on your shoulder. He was very happy that you were not angry with them. Though he expected nothing less from your kind, loving heart. “And the coffee machine could be working tomorrow... If San didn't forget again.”

“Hey! This can't happen, I swear! I've been dreaming about this for two days. Even if I had amnesia, I couldn't forget it.”

“I believe you, big boy. I hope you haven't forgotten either that you promised me marathon hugs today.”

“Finish your coffee and you won't get away.” San nodded towards you, then looked at Wooyoung. He winked and smiled mischievously. “None of you will get away.”

For the record, Wooyung didn't intend to. It's well known that sometimes even the lovestruck coffee maker needs a break.

[mirai-e-jump]

TV Guide Dan Vol.53, October 2024 Issue ft. Kamen Rider Gavv Cast Members Chinen Hidekazu x Hino Yusuke Interview (translation below)

Publication: October 15, 2024

DESTINY!

"In "Kamen Rider Gavv," which is based off the motif of "sweets," Chinen Hidekazu-san plays the role of Shouma (Gavv), a young man who comes from another world, and Hino Yusuke-san plays the role of Karakida Hanto (Valen), a young freelance writer. How did you personally feel after seeing the broadcast?"

Chinen: Personally, I was curious to see what the Gavvgablade would sound like, and I was very excited to see the super realistic scene that depicted it slicing the shipping container in half. The way Kamen Rider Gavv's actions and sounds were conveyed through production was very cool and impressive.

Hino: We have almost no experience performing on film, and this is our first tokusatsu set, so we really didn't know right from left. We were frantically trying to keep up on set, so I would've never imagined that the finished footage would be that amazing.

"What mindset do you have when playing Shouma and Hanto, and what parts of your performance do you think have changed over the course of each episode?"

Chinen: Compared to episode 1 and 2, where Shouma comes from another world and is exposed to human food and culture for the first time, I feel that I've been able to more naturally express Shouma's reactions to the "freshness" he feels in the human world.

Hino: In the beginning, it was incredibly difficult for me to understand and act out how hard it was for him to live alone without anyone believing in him since his mother was attacked by a Granute when he was very young. More than that, just when he's finally getting close to the enemy through steady progress, he's now also lost his own mentour…it was especially important that I express the emotional breakdown he had at that moment. However, I didn't want him to become a "weak and pitiful boy." I believe that it's heroes who rise up from adversity and stand tall, and that's why Hanto was able to become a Kamen Rider.

"How will the relationship between Shouma and Hanto, and Gavv and Valen, change in the future?"

Chinen: Despite being treated as a monster himself, so far, Shouma's been a solo hero who's saved humans. However, when he meets a Kamen Rider named Valen, he learns that there are others fighting against the Granutes besides him, which gives birth to a new hope. How will these two interact, and how will Shouma change?…look forward to it!

Hino: When he faces off against enemies he'd previously pursued only out of a desire for revenge, as a Kamen Rider, he'll also be forced to face what it means to "protect people" and what kind of person becomes a hero. As his personal growth is also depicted, he'll become involved with Shouma, so I hope you'll watch the growth and the change in their relationship.

"Furthermore, since this is the first time you two have worked together, and the first time you've appeared together in this magazine, please introduce yourselves and what kind of person you feel the other is."

Chinen: Yusuke-kun is cheerful, mischievous, and has the openness to quickly get close to others. Yusuke-kun takes the initiative when it comes to talking, so everyone got along with him easily. On set, he's the mood maker and a reliable person, but off set he completely changes…(laughs). I think that gap is one of the good parts of Yusuke-kun!

Hino: Hide's a pure person without any evil feelings. He's a boy with a very strong will, which is hard to imagine from his adorable appearance. He's able to face his "dreams" and "likes" straight on, and for that reason, I think people are naturally drawn to him, and on set he's like our "sun." He's an airhead, and he doesn't seem to be all there, but including those parts of him, he's someone I love.

"During the advanced screening, Chinen-kun said, "If I was going to play the lead role, I wanted to work with this person," and that he had been thinking of Hino-kun ever since the audition."

Chinen: It wasn't something that was definite, but something I felt intuitively. When I exchanged lines with Yusuke-kun during the audition, he naturally drew me in. At that moment, I felt like, "With this person, we could honestly play off each other until the final episode." Yusuke-kun was the only one who made me feel that way.

Hino: Wow, you really felt that way?

Chinen: Yeah. That's why when I went to costume fitting and saw Yusuke-kun again, my heart was racing as I thought, "I knew it." It really was fate.

Hino: Thank you. Through filming, I once again thought about how glad I am that Shouma is played by Hide. I knew that Hide was qualified, both as my long term buddy and as the actor who would play Shouma.

Chinen: The same is true for Hanto and Shouma, but I think the relationship between Yusuke-kun and myself is also a perfect fit. We have areas where we complement each other, and he helps me out in a variety of situations on a daily basis. Yusuke-kun understands my traits, which makes me feel at ease, and I'm very happy that the role of Hanto is played by Yusuke-kun.

Hino: We also come from different agencies, so I think we're rivals as actors. But, even without those feelings, Hide has a certain appeal that makes you want to love him. Being together with him all the time makes me want to care for him (laughs). However, I don't want him to take advantage of that kind of relationship, and I want us to be able to express our thoughts to each other, even if it's harsh. This is why Hide and I are neither friends nor brothers, but perhaps we have a "one of a kind" type of relationship. Besides, I think it's similar to the relationship between Hanto and Shouma.

Chinen: Yeah. Even though we're both Kamen Riders, I think we're similar in that we have special feelings for each other that goes beyond that. Still, this is the first time I've met someone like Yusuke-kun.

Hino: It's the same for me too. If the world were full of Hide's, we'd be in trouble (laughs). It's good that there's atleast one Hide in this world.

"When Chinen-kun went to Hino-kun's house, did the gap between you two close?"

Hino: When filming had just started, Hide followed me home at the end of a shoot as if it were no big deal (laughs). I was like, "Alright then, let's have a meal at my place!," but the next thing I knew, we had been talking for about four hours (laughs).

Chinen: We ended up not eating anything, and just talked about each other's dreams and our own lives (laughs).

Hino: We talked alot about each other's lives before we decided to become Kamen Riders

Chinen: Strangely enough, I didn't feel like there were any barriers between us, and that I could just honestly say anything to Yusuke-kun. Right from the beginning, we were able to talk to each other as if we were stripped of any titles. I feel that our resolve to work together to overcome any difficulties on set in the coming future was solidified that day.

Hino: I'm glad I was able to talk to Hide that day. As I thought, there's no girl as pure and as nice as him. If he was my girlfriend, I'd have absolute confidence in him (laughs).

Chinen: Hahaha! I'm grateful that he always looks out for the people around him, and even when I run off on my own, he helps me out with a precise follow up. He's prepared for anything, and can act quickly when the time comes, but that's not a simple thing to do, as I don't think you can do that unless you have the composure to do so. If I were the opposite sex, I'd fall for him (laughs). Also, we like alot of the same things.

Hino: It's more like Hide's imitating me! (laughs). To my surprise, Hide tends to be influenced by trends, but that's also what's cute about him.

Chinen: When I see a hat of Yusuke-kun's that I like, I try to buy the same one. This is how I'm imitating him, so naturally, my things are becoming alot more like Yusuke-kun's (laughs).

Hino: I hope I haven't been a negative influence…(laughs). But really, it's more about our underlying desire to learn, we have the same mindset of absorbing everything and "learning as much as we can," so I think that's a big part of it. I myself have alot to learn from Hide, and we're able to take in alot from each other.

Chinen: Even when we're having trouble with filming or acting, we've been able to build a relationship where we can say, "We're happy to be able to participate on a set like this." The Director gives us strict, but loving instructions, and I'm glad that the two of us are able to accept it as love, and not with any opposing views.

[beenbaanbuun]

tears - opposites attract

this is kind of short but i was thinking about jongho and i had to write something about him. i’m working on requests and i should be finished with a few of them soon 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

——————————————————————————

mingi…

that bastard has stolen your werewolf from you. it’s just for today and hongjoong promised seonghwa that the two of them—and probably mingi as well—would be back in time for dinner. he promised he’d let san know to make dinner as usual, but as of yet he hasn’t stepped out of his greenhouse once. something about being on the ‘precipice of a breakthrough!’ is what he told you that morning when he slipped out of bed far earlier than you or hongjoong, although a breakthrough of what, you’re unsure.

the first part of the morning was spent with san, trailing him around the house as he tidied and cleaned. you’d asked him what he’d be doing on his day off the following week; he told you he didn’t know but it’s almost certain that he wouldn’t be going home. he mentioned the price of train tickets being too expensive, but with the way he bowed his head to hide his expression, you could tell there was something more going on. you didn’t push, just like you wouldn’t want san to push. instead you stand there in a sad silence as san dusts the mantle piece in the living room.

“did you know this house is haunted?” you break the silence as you cast your gaze across the rug in the centre of the room. you can almost hear the crying that comes hand in hand with your ghost, the sound becoming almost comforting the more you hear it. it sounds strange to say that; to admit that you take comfort from someone else’s misery, but it’s the truth. the sound of his quiet sniffles has become synonymous with friendship and love and affection.

san turns to you with an eyebrow raised.

“well i’d have to assume so,” he takes a moment to look around the room, gesturing to all the antiquities and grandiose, “all this shit is bound to carry a few spirits, right?” the dust cloth he carries brushes past your arm as he takes it back to the mantle; you brush the filthy residue away with a grumble. “i don’t really care as long as they don’t come into my room. i’m far too tired to be dealing with ghosts whenever i try to sleep.”

you giggle at the image of the tearful man standing at the foot of san’s bed, staring at the butler with wet eyes and a frown. if san could see him, you have no doubt he’d take pity on the poor creature. as it stands, the idea is simply that; an idea.

“he might be,” you shrug, “but you wouldn’t know. the further he gets from his pelt, the less visible he becomes.”

the thought breaks your heart a little now that you dwell on it. he could be anywhere at any time and you just wouldn’t know it; does he ever feel ignored? or trapped? to have the only love you’ve ever received confined to a single room must be tough. it’s like an ultimatum that neither of you had a say in. a cruel trick from the universe to punish him for his spirit remaining here so long after his death. perhaps he yearns to move on, to find reprieve from the loneliness that haunts the walls of this house just as he does. the very house that has become your freedom must feel like a prison for him.

you wonder for a moment how long he’s been dead for, but the thought seems to manifest itself as a lump in your throat. he told you in his own words that he’d never known love before, just as hongjoong said the rug had been a family heirloom. you dread to think how many generations it has been passed through, each of them bringing even more loneliness and sorrow to the bear.

it makes sense now, why he cries. at first you figured it might be pain, that perhaps he still feels the weapon that led to his death lodged in his heart. in a way you suppose it is pain, and you have no doubt that it’s in his heart, but just not in the way you expected.

with a sigh, you leave the butler’s side to take a seat on the rug. you want to be close to him right now, for your own benefit as much as his. even though you can’t see him right know, you know he’s right there beside you. the shiver that runs up your arm is enough to confirm that fact. you don’t wipe it away or hide from in, instead basking in that icy cold feeling that makes your goosebumps blossom like the flowers in seonghwa’s greenhouse. you hope he can see them and know that even when he can’t be seen, he can still be felt.

you hope he knows you could never ignore him.

[suguru-getos]

— soft yandere suguru geto pt 1 —

-> building the story in this one. warnings: none! the reader meets suguru for the first time since her best friend was encapsulated by a curse causing nightmares and issues. it’s fluffy <3

suguru had one goal — irradicate the non-sorcerers so there comes to be a world without curses. satoru on the other hand wanted to make people capable enough to fight the curses. the goal was same - a world where curses don’t exist anymore. suguru was hell-bent on achieving that of course. gaining fame as ‘geto sama’ a monk-looking saintly human being who helps people. the backgrounds are for suguru to handle anyways - he needed curses to get powerful & eventually achieve his goals.

his hatred for monkeys was unsubstantiated. no one who was not in control of their cursed energies would be spared by suguru geto. he didn’t even spare his parents. though he knows certain monkeys are slightly more valuable than others. some are his banks, some give him curses to swallow. and some are the ones who have no control of their CE and end up attracting higher curses/creating them.

what he didn’t take into account was you. your best friend was tormented by sickening nightmares of being non-conned almost everyday. aches in the back, cramping and utter pain during her period. you had almost given up — as her roommate, you had searched all psychologists; all doctors. nothing seems to be working. until one day — you found a ‘monkey’ treated by none other than geto sama.

without wasting time, you believed their gratefulness and their willingness to lend you the address. since nothing is working — you will definitely try anything at this point.

the moment your car landed on the geto estate you knew this man was no joke. why else would he be able to afford something like this otherwise? on the other hand — you were suspicious as to his ulterior motives. what if he was a mafia boss or something? who knew. finally, after some wait; you were advised to follow the instructor who led you to suguru geto.

he sat there, a merry & a friendly smile over his face. something that’s practised even as he talks to your friend. “yumiko san.” he grins, “you have symptoms like rape nightmares, don’t you? you feel like you’re being touched in the wrong places & there’s nothing you can do about it?” your best friend teared up, she had never felt so intricately seen and heard the way geto had made her feel. he raised a hand, and the curse that was latched into her, unseen by you. unseen by her.. latched itself into suguru’s hand.

she instantly felt lighter & felt better. while you were extremely considerate of what suguru geto did, you were not pleased. what even was that — you and your best friend bowed and on your way to leave. you turned back, “what did you do?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“ah, i have god’s grace in my hands thankfully. nothing much. prayed on her behalf that her problems go away. little one.” he hums, monkeys are usually dumb enough to be happy-go-lucky with the treatment. you weren’t. suguru hums, “if that’d be all, you may leave. i have other things to cater to.”

your siren eyes met his own, deep down. you could sense suguru hated your best friend. it was just a hunch— the vibes were so off. you hum, “what do you practise then? what form of meditation?” you crossed your arms, eagerly wagering for more answers on his behalf.

suguru chuckled in disbelief, an insignificant, puny monkey was asking ‘him’ questions? “be grateful and leave.” he said dismissively. and your best friend held your wrist, dragging you outside. you were adorable and so curious. pity you were just an ordinary, low-class monkey.

“he’s a scammer, a fraud! i’m fucking sure! let’s go to a doctor.” you scoffed, gritting your teeth. glaring daggers at the man who laid down in front of you on a stage, seemingly uninterested. suguru wanted to play with you too, the same curse that was latched onto your friend, he transferred it into you, going out. now you’d have the same symptoms and suffer. shouldn’t have voiced your shit so hard, tsk…

unfortunately for suguru, you ended up like one of those who can see curses once subjected to cursed energy. you screamed gutterally when you saw the hideous creature attached to you. an amused smirk ran past his lips at the way you tried to shove it away. your friend was in utter confusion — what did she do? got on her knees and apologized on your behalf to ‘geto sama’ who promised to treat you. and forgive you of course. forcing her to leave.

you screeched curses and profanities at suguru, who was more than pleased to see you hit some sort of a standard he has for people he’s allowed to care about. his hand touched your crotch, right where the curse was supposed to be holding, unconcerned with your flustered resistance as he absorbed it.

“there we go, little girl.” he smiled, while you watched the curse turn into a ball. “this is the thing that was latched onto your friend. normal humans can’t see these. some of them can. i can.” you sat next to him and asked him a multitude of questions about this. you don’t remember the last time you had talked to someone this much & suguru doesn’t remember the last time he was so thoughtless. he was observing literally everything. your facial features, the way your brows scrunched when you emphasized over something, how you overcommunicated with your hands at times, rolled your eyes ever so often and shook your legs while you asked questions and waited eagerly for your answers. you blinked and your lashes looked so long and luscious, your hair suited you just well. he wonders how your soft looking skin would look all marked up with hickeys. he wonders how your voice would sound when you would moan or scream out his name. he wonders how his name would sound. how your lips would curve a certain way to pronounce ‘suguru’. oh he’s slowly losing his mind isn’t he?

he asked you to stay the night and join for dinner since it was quite late because of everything he just told you. you of course obliged and met his adopted daughters, miguel and the others who he called family. holy fuck they worshipped him. you knew that because of the way they respected you — treated you as their own because suguru said you are a guest today. his daughters were bratty but they knew their limits; seems like suguru raised them well.

after dinner, you joined him for a walk outside, pouting and flushed because he wasn’t wearing his gojo-gesa anymore. he almost looks so normal with that. “you aren’t an actual monk are you?” you raised a brow, grinning when he shook his head in denial. “no, i’m just here to collect cursed spirits because of my technique for a greater cause.” he hums; replying gently and looking deeply into your inquisitive eyes. you threw another question at him, seemingly obvious. “what greater cause?” you tilt your head like an indulged bird, and he caught that gesture. “want to know everything at once? hmm? little bird.” he smiled, looking relaxed and like a normal human being. “i’ll let you know with time.”

you had a peaceful and a sound sleep, why? because you were unaware how suguru watched you sleep in awe. just thinking of the ways he would watch you smile again, just thinking how he could make you feel special again? he can brain wash you into thinking humans are detestable, no?

the next morning, you were called for breakfast and had a great time, making promises to visit again while suguru bid you a farewell by kissing your knuckles. looking ever so charming. oh you will visit again, otherwise suguru geto would: either way… your red thread of fate was sealed.

suguru geto had a little crush…

or was he in love?

[cattologofpurring]

Attention! The author of the post has a burning ass and he came to complain.

This concerns the canonical personality of Error Sans. If the character himself said: “I am the destroyer of worlds,” then all the people who have not read the comic begin to make him a Mary Sue!

Fanon Error:

A character with unstable HP. That’s why he is portrayed as immortal, super strong. He is cold to everyone, he truly hates everyone and everything.

Canon Error:

It has an unstable but generally 1 HP. He is stronger than classic Sans only because of the strings! Without them, he is an ordinary Sans, who also has vision problems. The threads only work because of the unexpected. But you can dodge them. Yes, he is strong, but he is just a child who wants to destroy other people's Lego houses.

At the same time, it remains a cute bun with chocolate inside. He knows how to be embarrassed, he does not consider himself crazy. His outlook on life rewrote his last thoughts into anti-voids. He doesn't destroy AU for the sake of balance, he just wants to leave one universe. He enjoys hanging out with Blueberry, but he can't admit it to himself. He is a tsundere towards Underfell. He's not an emotionless monster. He is a weak child with big ambitions. Just why do people use a completely different image of Error...? Canonical Error is more interesting and more elaborate.

With all this, people put him on par with Nightmare and Dream. But no! He won't be able to do anything. Error's strings are twisted blue magic. Neither Dream nor Nightmare are affected by magic. He can destroy Dream's body, but it will recover. He will not be able to break either negative or positive apples. He is an ordinary mortal, albeit with a broken code. The energy of the apples will simply destroy his hand. Best case scenario. I think even Killer, if he is ready for strings, will simply destroy Error in phase 4. Error does not have a stronger reaction. His attacks are no faster. He may not even want to destroy you if you are interesting to him.

I'm not saying that Error is Weak. He may be strong, but he's not super strong. This is his charm. The canonical Error is one of the best characters in Fandom. It’s a pity that almost everyone forgot about him and began to turn him into who knows what.

Phew, thanks for reading! If you have any thoughts on this matter, write in the comments.

@loverofpiggies

@jokublog

@rahafwabas

[mystiffox]

— the apple's falling from the tree

from Cross: The Star Sans by @overflowofcrows

star!cross makes me incredibly ill with the tragic found family vibes ... (lays on the floor)

also have some doodles too (slight spoilers on the fic's lore below! to explain some of my thoughts on clothes n stuff)

does Cross have a star necklace in the fic? no, probably not. did i show off about my thoughts on a star necklace to Simple anyway? yes, yes i did. anyway idc where u think the necklace is from (whether its a gift from dream or a remold of his broken heart necklace, who knows atp) now ONTO THE GANG (+ Error and Fresh)

to preface this: im mostly assuming for most of the lore beyond the crumbs given to me. so, i'd imagine that when the fight ended with the gang losing, Dream and Ink immediately jailed them up. they both seem keen on keeping the gang alive, so they probably would've tried to help them with anything to make sure of it- that is, if any of the gang would even accept it in the first place.

i'm making a small guess that if there were any wounds, they used what they had to take care of it, aka ripping out parts of their own clothing to use as makeshift bandages. dream might've gave them some supplies (out of pity.. or something) but whether that was not enough or not used, i won't know

even if it was enough, there's still the factor of inevitable outburst/breakdowns from any of the prisoners. i'd imagine it'd be so hard to calm any of them down because the gang were too used to being close together that using touch became the usual grounding method— so putting a barrier between them makes it infintely harder for everyone.

i think Nightmare doesn't use his jacket anymore. it probably feels like shit/too itchy and ragged to wear and reminds him of a past he wishes he could forget. (he must feel so helpless seeing all his boys suffer after taking care of them for so long... like a lost father trying his best and seeing how much he's failing at the same time.. man.)

Dust is almost always wrapped in a blanket, the hoodie completely zipped up as if he was trying to hide in it, keeping himself as small as possible (knowing his own breakdowns are the biggest And loudest)

Horror is probably yanked back to the memories of when he was back in his home au, quietly starving and losing all the progress he had with the gang.. trying to press himself against the barriers in hopes that maybe he can feel the others on the other side of it.. (one of his outbursts would be why he ripped off the sleeves of his jacket id assume)

Killer too.. unable to get to anyone and just. with his soul going haywire sometimes, having no available output that he's forced to ride it out on his own And in front of everyone.. yeah, you get the gist for those three

Error's a mess of threads- picks at his clothes and sews em back up, just to have a reason to move his hands. he's not too worried i'd say- it's a little reminiscent of the antivoid, and he's experienced insanity already (not to say it doesn't tug at his own soul-strings to see it happen to everyone else)

Fresh might be the "cleanest" out of everyone, with barely any visible tears, but i have a good feeling his body language is different. maybe the cap is now worn correctly. maybe he took off his jacket. he's tense. his guard is up. because a parasite would never want to be locked up in one place, right?

god.

God.

they make me so sick (message is mine btw)

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 92 (Conrad's First Love)

cw: Conrad getting pretty spicy 🌶️🌶️🌶️ and not with Heather; references to human and drug trafficking (not depicted).

Follows the events of this post.

As she passed him to put away her gloves, a stunning redhead at Pappy Murphy's Boxing Gym caught Conrad's eye. Though he'd been deep in another bout of anger and self-pity over the death of his mother years earlier, he stopped his workout. Every inch of his being compelled him to talk to her.

She turned with a smile before he could stammer a single word. "Hi, handsome. Did you want a better look?"

He nervously introduced himself and she told him her name. "Ximena." The word floated from her lips like a song. He was instantly smitten.

"Ximena, could I buy you a drink?"

They spent the day in a local pub. He told her everything about his mother's death and his distance from his father in the years since. She listened, but she had a lot less to say about herself. "I live here with my brother. I'm a student, and I'm the only caretaker he has. Our parents aren't around anymore, and it's been just Rafa and me for years."

He could hear an accent when she spoke, and most people in Britechester weren't locals, so he made an assumption. "How long since you moved from Selvadorada?"

Surprised by his guess, she turned defensive. "I don't talk about Selva."

He liked her too much to press and push her away, so they spent the rest of the day flirting and discussing their interests until Ximena invited him back to her place. "You make me laugh, Conrad Gordon. My brother's still at school and I want to get to know you better without all this noise. I hate the music they play in here."

Once Conrad followed her out of the bar and back to the small home she shared with her kid brother, Rafa, he started following her everywhere.

He lost his virginity to her a week after they met. That night, she told him why she left Selvadorada.

"I was going to die or they were going to kill me. I wouldn't let them sell me to anyone anymore, so I made a plan and left with my brother in the middle of the night to come here."

She showed him the scars left by the cartel, and a resolve to keep her safe coloured his already steadfast affection. He let her cut his hair when she said she wanted to show him how freeing it felt to change his look. "It's nice not to recognize the person in the mirror, sometimes," she said.

She told him she was a student, often meeting him at Larry's Lagoon to study but usually distracting him into other activities. One afternoon, she introduced him to an old friend, Jimmy Stefano. "Can you help him out around campus? You're in the same major."

Something about Jimmy Stefano rubbed Conrad the wrong way, but he assumed it was jealousy. Despite this, he would already do anything for Ximena and agreed to take Jimmy under his wing.

He called his father to say he planned to stay at school for Spring Break. "Sorry, I know I said I'd come home to see you."

Stephen Gordon laughed him off, but masked slight disappointment. He had no idea whether his son was flourishing or floundering at college, unsure how he'd been coping so far from home. "Don't worry, son. I'm just glad you sound happy. You're making me and your mother proud."

He skipped classes to spend time with Ximena, but made no mention of this to his father, of course. He spent time with Rafa when Ximena said she had late-night classes, taking him to the park to play pirate captain versus sea monster, and talking endlessly with him about video games.

Rafa wanted to become a pirate captain in Sulani or a game tester in San Myshuno. He had almost no memory of life in Selva before his sister left, but he knew it was "the bad place." He liked spending time with Conrad because he said his sister was too strict. "She just loves you," Conrad assured him. "Parents have to set rules, and she can't just be your sister. She has to care for you like a parent, too."

He realized then how important it was to be a model for Rafa, who needed guidance as much as anyone his age. Conrad had always had his father, but who did Rafa have besides Ximena?

Conrad discovered how she paid for an entire house for her and her brother by accident, stumbling on an argument between her and Jimmy Stefano near the campus fountain. "The deal was thirty pounds for three grand."

"They said if I didn't have five grand they'd only give me fifteen. They had guns, Ximena."

"They all have guns! Knives, too. Get your own and figure out how to use it. Watcher, please, don't screw this deal up for me, Jimmy."

"Who has guns?"

"The cartel," said Jimmy, so nonchalant, yet it still hit Conrad like a missile. His stomach turned as he read Ximena's expression. Every lie she'd told him unravelled with a look.

"Are you really a student here, Ximena?"

"No. They're my customers."

He'd had his suspicions, but he'd always told himself he was wrong. Ximena was supposed to be perfect. Hoping against hope, he still tried to play the fool. "What do you mean?"

She dragged him back home to tell him the truth - how she'd bargained with the cartel to escape a life of servitude to the men who ran product all over Simlandia. She refused to serve them, but her way out was to join them instead.

Conrad was angry, but he couldn't stay mad at her for long. As they lay in bed that night, she asked, "Are you going to break up with me because of what I do?"

"Not a chance. I love you."

"I love you, too." She smiled, resting her head on his chest as he ran a hand through her newly blonde hair. "You look nice without glasses, Conrad."

"You already gave me a haircut, Xime. You don't like glasses?"

"Conrad, you're very sexy. But you hide it and it's silly."

"If you're going to give me a makeover, what should I get you?"

"Are you asking me?"

"Ximena, I want to give you everything you could ever want."

She blushed. "I want you, Conrad. But since I already have you, maybe...jewelry? Like a ring."

"You don't wear any rings."

"Because none are special enough, Conrad."

He smiled. "Alright, that's one idea. But say I wanted to surprise you, what else did you want?"

"You could join me running product for the cartel. Our lives would be made, and we'd always be together."

"I don't want to run product for the cartel, Ximena. But I'm not going anywhere. I'll always be there for you. Rafa, too."

"Right, but what if I go? Rafa loves you, Conrad, almost as much as me. But what if the cartel moved me somewhere else? Would you come with me? Maybe you could be, like, my security. No running, just keeping me safe. Always with me and Rafa."

He'd do anything to protect her, but he didn't answer her that day, refocusing on his studies until he returned to San Myshuno at the end of the semester.

He'd missed his father more than he expected, and they went for walks in warm sunshine by the Spice Market. They talked about school, and Conrad talked about Ximena - leaving out details of her career and focusing instead on her relationship with her brother. Conrad rarely asked his father about work, but Stephen hinted he was inching closer to retirement. "Chester's daughter Nancy is ready to take over the company, but Chester's not quite ready to retire. I think she's plotting a coup, but you didn't hear that from me."

"What happens to you if she pushes out her own father?"

"Hopefully, a retirement package. Chester may not be ready, but I think I am."

On one of their walks, they passed a jewelry store, and Conrad made a beeline for the ring counter. A confident salesman smiled as the Gordon men walked inside. "Welcome. What are we shopping for today?"

"I'm just looking," Conrad said. "What rings do you have?"

The salesman beamed. "Are we thinking of an engagement?"

Stephen eyed his son carefully, but Conrad shook his head. "Not right now. Just like, for an accessory."

"I don't know, son. A ring says you're ready for forever."

Conrad took his father's words to heart, considering what forever with Ximena might look like. He wanted to be with her, but he wasn't ready for a ring. He left that day with a nice bracelet for her, instead.

"Even leaving with a bracelet as nice as that one...she must mean something. I'd love to meet her."

Conrad nodded. "She might be able to visit this summer, if she's not too busy with work," he said.

Stephen smiled and the Gordon men continued their walk, strengthening the bond nearly severed by grief before Conrad returned to Britechester for another semester. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOT FUN FACT: Conrad got crab lice from Ximena when they slept together for the first time, which is gross but also fitting I guess. And yet I didn't make it canon because it didn't quite fit the vibe. Plus, he wasn't supposed to find out that early on that Ximena was problematic.

WCIF Poses Used? Various from packs Old Souls Love Differently by @simmireen (when Ximena is blonde), Our First Time by @eclypt0sims (redhead), The Kiss by @simmerberlin (black hair) and Nights Like These by @sakurasims-world (also redhead).

WCIF Jewelry Store? Jewelry Store by Guinifere on the Sims 4 Gallery. Very elegant interior and comes with crafting tables, a vault, charging stations - very nice lot! Needs dressing up with completed jewelry on the counters and in displays to look really spectacular (and I of course went the lazy route), but I wouldn't if I was playing a retail career, and this is a great lot for someone who wants to be a jeweler!

[dearsnow]

OUT OF TIME (2)

- you’re smacked in the face with a hint of the past and a group of aviators that can’t seem to leave you alone. (bradley “rooster” bradshaw x fem!reader, part of the series “out of touch”)

OUT OF TOUCH: It’s been twenty years since you last saw Bradley Bradshaw, and, suddenly, you realize he’s finally grown up.

word count: 2,002

a/n - i’m on my phoenix wlw bullshit btw, i love her sm 🫶 enjoy this slightly longer chapter, and heed my warnings: something big is coming soon

When they step through the doorway of the quaint cafe, the entire dagger squad sighs. The smell of coffee and baked goods is almost sweet enough to touch, with slightly floral notes from the abundance of small plants and tabletop flowers. The floor beneath them is wood-paneled, with green accents hidden throughout the building. In Rooster’s opinion, it’s straight out of a storybook. And, evidently, so are you.

He would be lying if he said you weren’t anything short of completely gorgeous. The sunlight from your many windows filters over your face and through the gaps between your fingers, casting you in a golden San Diego glow. Your smile reaches your eyes and, though he would love to see you in any outfit, the apron is really working for you. You seem nice— and man, do the daggers really take advantage of “nice”. 

Hangman, from behind him, whispers, “Holy shit.”

You’re standing behind the cash register, thumbing through a decoration catalog when the rowdy group appears in front of you. You direct your warm smile to the daggers as you put the catalog down, and suddenly, Rooster vaguely recognizes you.

Bradley wracks his brain, trying desperately to remember who you are.

You don’t seem like anyone he met at college or recently, and definitely not on base, so you must’ve been from his childhood. The girl who slapped him during his senior year? No, you couldn’t be her. The girl who worked at the corner shop by his house, the girl he made out with in his mom’s car, the girl who found out she was a lesbian after dating him, none of them looked like you. But god, do you look good.

Then it hits him. You. The girl who bought his mom flowers. Who baked him cookies. Who tearfully admitted that you didn’t think he liked you as much as he liked himself, and who he agreed with. You’re here, and he sorely regrets breaking your heart twenty years ago. The worst (or perhaps best) part is that you don’t even seem to recognize him. He’s a little afraid of what would happen if you did.

“Welcome in!” You call, and he can see his friends swooning. He himself feels a little weak in the knees. 

Hangman, ever the flirt, takes his opportunity. “Hey, darlin’. I’m Jake. Come here often?”

Rooster can feel his eyes rolling themselves. It’s like he’s been conditioned to groan at Hangman’s attempts. They’re never good, if he’s being honest. “Gorgeous” this and “darlin’” that. Despite his reservations, though, it usually works. That or his sharp jawline, toned abs, and movie star scruff.

“If you mean here, as in where I work, then yes.” You quip. Jake reaches to shake your hand, and you comply, looking at him like a motorist looks at a poor piece of roadkill; just a little pitying. Rooster has never been more impressed by a woman before.

“Fanboy here has been raving about your croissants, gorgeous.” There it is. Rooster knows Jake’s lines like the back of his hand. “I bet you make the best ones in the city. I wouldn’t mind getting a sample myself.” He drawls. He pulls out his wallet like it’s on fire and quickly drops some cash in your tip jar before offering the rest directly to you.

You hand him a wrapped croissant before gesturing to Fanboy. “Fanboy? Is that a call sign?”

He takes a step forward, a sparkle in his eye. “Yes ma’am.” His cheeks are dusted with a light red, and not even the soft lighting of the cafe can hide it.

Phoenix is standing near the back with Bob, arms crossed, taking in the scene in front of her. Rooster moves to join her as Fanboy takes pride in letting you know everyone’s call sign. “Not joining in on the action?” Rooster says, nudging her with his elbow.

Phoenix shrugs. “She’s a looker for sure, but all I can see is that photo of her and her boyfriend on the wall behind her. I’ll quit while I’m ahead.” She grins. Rooster laughs, and for a split second, your eyes shift to him. They widen a bit, then before he can even process it, you’re helping Payback pick out a cupcake. Damn, your eyes are beautiful.

When he and Phoenix eventually peel the others off of your cafe’s very nice wooden floors, Bradley can’t stop the flutter in his chest.

Bradley comes back the next day. He just can’t help himself. The night of the initial visit, he tossed and turned in his bed, desperately trying not to think of you and how he royally fucked up. He needs closure. He needs to stand in front of you, face-to-face, and confess that he regrets ever hurting you. He knows he’s out of time, and he’s been out of time for years, but he feels that if he can’t speak to you, he might explode. That is, if you even remember who he is.

That’s why he finds himself staring at your pastry shelf as you list off your favorites. “…sometimes the cherry tarts are good, but I mostly like the raspberry scones. They’re way too underrated.” You hover above the glass display, pointing to each one.

“Then I’ll have one raspberry scone, please.” He smiles. As you wrap his choice for him, he hesitates. “Do… do you remember me?”

“From yesterday? I find your group a bit hard to forget, Rooster.” You say. You’re purposely avoiding his question, something that you yourself can see very clearly. You hope it isn’t obvious to him.

Of course you remember him. You remember the smell clinging to his jacket and his stupidly loud boombox. You also remember his gangly limbs and prominent awkwardness. And, as much as you try to forget, you remember how in love you were.

Whenever you saw him, your heart would swell. He was just so good. Everything about him just seemed like a teenage dream.

His hair was scruffy, like he hadn’t learned to take care of it yet. He was tall still, as he always had been. And he was kind.

He offered to walk you to school every morning after your mom told his mom that the dog two houses down from yours would chase you, and you were head over heels. Every word he spoke seemed to draw you closer. During those walks, the world itself seemed to rest in your open palms.

“Hey, wait- don’t go too far, I can’t see you!”

“You’re real smart, did you know that? You’re not like a lot of the other girls.”

“That’s so cool. You should come over and show me sometime.”

You had gotten so caught up in him that you completely forgot he wasn’t the type to settle down, even in high school.

“I just don’t know.” He said, on your second-to-last date. “I like that you’re into me, but I’m young, y’know? I mean, we’re not even legal adults yet. I don’t want to tie myself down too soon. It’s not you, it’s me.” 

You nodded along, but your heart was breaking with every word that came out of his mouth. You wanted him so badly it made your throat ache. You had written poems about this guy, and he was feeding you cliche break up lines to get away from you. “I get it.” You murmured. You did, in some sense. High school relationships aren’t built to last. At the time, you wished they were. “You just want ‘casual’. And I know I’m not casual.”

This conversation kicked you right in the insecurities. For a long, long time, you believed you weren’t loveable because of it. You were too much, loved too much, gave too much. You felt too much. You scared everyone away with your tears and worries, latching on so tightly anyone in your grip felt like they were suffocating. It closed you off for a good, long while. In truth, Derick was the only reason you ever came out of that self-loathing way of thinking.

Bradley smiled like he didn’t just kick you in the feelings. “Right. Thanks for understanding,” and he spoke your name without a hint of longing. “You’ll find a nice guy someday. I just don’t think it’ll ever be me.”

Then, things exploded when you caught him flirting with Rebecca right before your last date, and you never looked back.

You hand him the scone with a tight smile. 

“No,” he says, “do you remember me from high school? Bradley Bradshaw, at your service.” 

You pause, as if you’re just taking him in for the first time. He supposes that he does look really different, with the mustache and hair and filled-out body. He wouldn’t blame you if you just didn’t want to recognize him, though.

“Oh.” Is all you say. An awkward pause fills the air, stifling the rest of the words in your throat. If you’re being honest, you would’ve rather he just stayed away instead of infiltrating one of the places you feel safest. You suppose you can’t actually be that mad at him, though, considering it’s been two decades since he hurt you. Bradley quickly fills the silence.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I was a dick back then. I regret it deeply, if that’s any consolation.” 

You hand him his scone. “You were a dick. But I lived.” Your tone still has a touch of humor. Bradley can feel his heart doing loop-de-loops. He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this, not now, not when you have a boyfriend and have so clearly moved on from him, but the feelings that drew him to you in the first place are sprinting back at full force.

He did like you. He liked your jokes, how you always put your full effort in, and your kindness, even when he didn’t deserve it. He just wasn’t ready for anything so undoubtedly good at the time. He needed to get smacked in the face with the lessons that life taught him. If he hadn’t gotten those lessons, if he had taken your hand and your offer of a real relationship, he would be happier. But you wouldn’t be. That’s what he had learned after all these years, and now, he’s desperate to prove that life changed him. You were never too much for him, he just wasn’t enough for you.

“Yeah, clearly. I’m happy you’re doing well now.” He gestures to the scone as a show of proof, quirking his eyebrow. You smile.

“I’m happy you seem to be doing well too. Come back anytime, Bradley.”

Seeing him still hurts. You don’t have the right to be sad, you think, but finding out that you moved miles and miles away just to end up in front of him makes you feel like your life has been one big unhappy circle. Despite everything, you’re glad he’s made a life for himself. He definitely seems more mature now, which the San Diego ladies must love.

He pays you, then slides a twenty and a piece of paper in your tip jar with sparkling eyes. He licks his lips quickly, like his mouth has suddenly gone dry. His stance is just a little less confident than it was a few seconds ago. “I put my number in there. Call me if you need a friend, yeah? No funny business, but it’s tough being in a new place, so I’ll be here if you feel up for it.”

Looking around at your sparsely furnished and no-employee cafe, you don’t wonder how he knew you just moved here. You just thank him with a tight smile and pretend not to notice how nice he looks from the back.

You unfold the piece of paper, fully intending to throw it away, before sighing and tucking it into your apron pocket. You doubt you’ll ever need a friend in Bradley Bradshaw, but things tend to change in the blink of an eye.

PREVIOUS || NEXT

Taglist: @m1dnightsnackz @itsarabellebabes @shanimallina87 @sadgirlgiselle

[cowboyboygirl]

1 & 3 for tim and kon? i adore them being sweet with each other

1 & 3 | “You’re alright” & “Go back to sleep”

They fall asleep with their hands entangled. Tim can’t even remember when they began holding each other, only knows that it needs to end soon; he has to pee.

Kon is completely still, without even a rise and fall of his chest to indicate he’s alive. Tim shuffles, presses his ear to his chest in a brief fit of paranoia. Kon’s heart thumps to a steady rhythm. Tim sits up. He feels… heavy. Like a weighted blanket is compressing his entire body. Something more than magnetism is keeping him in the cozy bubble he and kon unintentionally created.

Ah, he realizes after a few seconds more of critical thinking, TTK.

Bart is seemingly unaffected; he shifts, and twitches, and rolls with no restraints. For a moment, Tim's concerned that he’s going to fall off the makeshift pillow bed they’ve created—but he catches himself. Cassie is a pile of blankets tucked into the couch corner. She and Bart were cuddled together earlier; that obviously fell apart quickly. Tim hasn’t risked falling asleep next to Bart after the time he was almost suffocated by his mop of hair. He shudders at the memory.

Tim needs to focus on the task at hand. Gently, he tries to pry his hand out of Kon’s grasp. When that fails, more firm. Kon doesn’t budge. He does, however, smack his lips and turn on his side. Tim feels himself being pulled slightly closer. This guy.

“C’mon, you big baby. Let go.” He mumbles. Kon obviously has no response.

Tim sighs. He runs his free hand up and down Kon’s arm, trying to wake him. Shakes him. His brow twitches when Tim pokes his nose and nothing more. “Kon,” he says, “Conner, wake up.”

Silence. Tim traces his hand down Kon’s bicep to the tender inside of his elbow, pinches.

Kon’s eyes open, slow as a slug. “Whuh?” He asks. He finally lets go of Tim's hand to rub his eyes. The whites of them glow, just slightly, in the darkness of the common room.

“Can you let go of me?”

Kon blinks, looks down at his hand. “…Buh?” He eloquently questions.

“TTK.” Tim gestures between them.

“Oh,” Kon says, tugging on his ear and clearly embarrassed. Tim feels the—admittedly comfortable—weight lift off his shoulders. “M’sorry.”

Tim fondly rolls his eyes. “You're alright. Go back to sleep.”

He feels something catch him as he starts to rise and turns to face Kon. “…Are you comin’ back?”

Tim reaches down to pat his head. “I'm coming back.”

“Okay. Good.” Kon nods, lying back down.

Tim stares at him longer than strictly necessary before slinking off to the bathroom.

It’s been… nice, getting to indulge in the affection Kon’s been giving him lately. Pity or not—Kon’s startlingly effective at providing comfort, keeping Tim grounded in the whirlwind of his shiny new life in Blüdhaven and the constant chaos of San Francisco. He has that, and the fact that he’s invulnerable. Tim takes that and sinks his teeth and nails into it. A steady, solid presence; a stark contrast to the fragility of human mortality.

With his gloves off, Tim can see the twin scars that trace down his palms. As he washes his hands, he ends up digging his nails in until the skin is tinted red. He looks up at the mirror and sees the blank lenses of a domino that betrays the set of his eyes beneath it. Tim turns the light off.

[minkieater]

EIGHT FIRST DATES ꨄ︎

002 》 LEE CHAN

you’d discovered you weren’t one for wine, but maybe you weren’t one for whiskey, either. when a classmate finally works up the courage to ask you out, you thought it might be divine timing. now with thanksgiving only seven weeks away, will he be the one?

wc 8.3k | lil toxic argument, drinking, dino being a little cutie pie angel baby

sunday and monday you were floating, tip toeing on clouds with your head so far in a hyunjin induced dream you couldn’t find your way down. but that’s all it was — a dream, because when tuesday rolled around something was different. off. 

sunday you had spent the entire day in your house, cleaning up your room like you did every week and catching up on laundry. hyunjin was receiving live updates (that he asked for) and responding to each one with encouragement, followed by words of endearment, calling you every pet name in the book. he told you he missed you probably a total of four times on sunday.

your head hit the pillow with a smile and you woke up monday morning still on facetime. you hung up before he opened his eyes, taking a moment to look at his gorgeous sleeping face before ending the call, not wanting to risk him waking up to you staring at him. monday you went to your classes with less time to flood your text thread, but you figured he was probably busy when he didn’t spam yours, either. 

monday night he said he couldn’t facetime, he had a friend over. cool, totally fine, no biggie at all. tuesday you didn’t even get a goodmorning text— you’d been receiving those for almost a week now. you figured maybe you just woke up before him, so you sent him one instead. he didn’t respond until two pm.

when you got back home after your classes on tuesday, you and hyunjin had barely spoken a word, you’d only sent two texts in the thread and were waiting on a reply. you were trying to be casual about it, not check your phone every minute and force your brain to not think anything of it, not think about it period. the truth was, you were panicking. 

“i need you guys to be honest with me,” you stood at the bottom of the stairs to your basement, ace and your three best friends sitting on the couch before the tv. 

all four of them barely gave you a glance, eyes focused on the game on the tv, controllers in their hands.

“we’re always honest with you,” yeosang answers, eyes still trained on the flat screen. “fucking sweats!” 

“don’t tell me you died again!” ace yelled, his jaw dropping, “i can’t rez you, we’re getting third partied.” 

“we’re getting fucked,” san gasps, before he groans, then the four of them simultaneously yell out a fuck! they must’ve all died, which is pretty solid timing for you.

“okay, now can you be honest with me?” you walk over to the couch, plopping yourself down in the only space open beside yunho, with ace, san and yeosang to his left. 

“what’s up?” yunho asks, putting the controller next to him on the couch, eyes focused only on you. 

you told them everything, from the date to how you felt about it to now — skipping over the unnecessary details of being in hwang hyunjin’s bed — they fed you uneasy expressions, it made the pit in your stomach drop. 

“oh, i’m fucked, aren’t i?” you asked after you looked around the room, everyone’s face looking… sad? pitiful? disappointed? you couldn’t pinpoint it. 

“unfortunately, i think you might be,” ace’s lips pulled into a thin line, giving you a curt nod with closed eyes. “he’s probably never going to answer that text.” 

“but i thought it went really well!” you whined, body sinking into the couch, head falling back. you picked it back up, eyebrows furrowed, “he even wanted me to sleep over!” 

“probably so he could fuck you again,” san wore a frown, leaned over on his legs with his chin in his palm. “if you like him, why’d you fuck him? i would’ve made him wait.” 

you turned to your twin, “ace, close your ears.” 

he covered his ears with his hands immediately, eyes closing and humming loudly into the air to block out whatever you didn’t want him to hear — he definitely didn’t want to hear the details either.

“i don’t think i liked him all that much until we were fucking,” you shrugged, your next words became hushed just incase ace could hear. “he even made me… you know.” 

“even? like he- wait, you- why are you saying it like that?” yeosang’s eyebrows were furrowed, head shaking as he spoke, leaning even closer toward you from his far spot on the couch.

“is that not normal? are we talking about the same thing right now?” san asked, he wore the same expression, eyebrows scrunched together and eyes full of disbelief. 

“what do you mean?” your cheeks flushed —  you hadn’t shared much of your sex life with your three best friends, you didn’t shy away from talking about it per se but where there were the three, ace was usually following close behind. he was always more open about that stuff than you. 

“do the guys you sleep with usually not make you finish?” yunho cleared the air, nipping the miscommunication before it could go any further. ace took a pause, swallowing his spit and taking a breather before he continued his humming. 

“no?” you looked between the three of them with a question mark over your head, “hyunjin was the first to do it.”

your three best friends looked horrified. 

“jesus christ, tiny,” san shook his head, leaning back on the couch.

“yeah, you’re not getting over him any time soon,” yeosang shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest while joining san against the cushions. 

“you’ll be fine, teens,” yunho rolled his eyes at his friends’ reactions, “you do need to pick better guys to fuck, though.”

“great,” you huffed, standing up from your spot on the couch, “this is really really great and awesome, you guys. i go on one date, one, and look at what happens! i have super great fantastic sex like someone told me to and i get ghosted?! this is pointless!” 

ace opens his eyes before he lets go of his ears, watching you pace around the room. he looks between the three boys around him, “what’d you say to her?” 

“we didn’t say anything!” yeosang’s eyebrows are in his hairline, “she’s freaking out because he’s ghosting her.” 

“relax tiny, it’s only been a couple of hours,” ace looks up to you, a shred of concern in his eyes, “best thing you can do is act like you don’t care. don’t double text, don’t watch his social media, nothing — watch him text you back, and when he does, don’t answer.” 

you pause your pacing, hands on your sweatpant covered hips with a glare pointed at your twin, “that’s fucking stupid.” 

“but it works,” your twin smiles, “do you want to get a boyfriend or not?” 

in your classroom management lecture the next day, you had hyunjin’s instagram open on the long desk in front of you. his profile picture was circled with a red line, meaning he had a story available, beckoning you to watch. ace’s words rang in your head, don’t look at his social media — but it’s so hard. 

he’d been watching every single thing you posted, it only pissed you off more. he did end up texting you back yesterday, a simple one word answer, one that took every fiber of your being not to answer. you didn’t listen to ace for many things, but considering he was the one in the relationship and you were not, you figured you’d give his theory a try. 

“did you do the assignment from last week?” you lock your phone, following the voice to the guy that sat next to you. you think his name was chad, chase maybe…?

“uh, yes, it was due three days ago. did you?” you furrow your eyebrows and he gives you a weak smile, bringing his hand up to scratch his head. he has a nice smile. 

“i’ll take that as a no,” you smile back, running your fingers over the mousepad on your laptop that had gone into sleep mode. “i can email it to you if you want?” 

“that would be amazing, you’re a lifesaver. thank you,” he leans into your space, peering over at your laptop screen as you pull up the assignment. he smelled good, his cologne was something unique, somewhere between smoky and floral — you couldn’t put your finger on it. 

he types in his email, lee.chan021199@coupsuni.edu, saving you the embarrassment of asking his name that he’d probably already told you plenty of times. his blonde hair curled under his ears, laying messy atop his head, straight nose peeking out from where he stared at your screen. this could work. 

you push your hair behind your ear, “if you need any other help with assignments or anything, uh, you can always ask me.” 

“really?” he smiles wide, his eyes bright, “thank you so much, er— what was your name again?” 

your lips scrunch in an attempt to hide your laugh, he didn’t know your name either. you reintroduce yourselves, both smiley and giggly in the back of your lecture hall. you couldn't believe you didn’t point him out earlier, in his oversized hoodie and thick pair of sweats he looked delectable. you wouldn’t be surprised if he had a girlfriend. 

if hyunjin wasn’t going to work out— which at the moment it was looking like he would not, maybe lee chan could. 

you chatted for the rest of class, hushed whispers that only got you two looks from the people sitting in the row before you. you talked about your classes in the past three years, your professors, where and when you’d be taking up a student teaching role this year. the conversation flowed easily, chan made you feel like you’d known him for years, he spoke extremely well and much too casually for this to be the first time you’d really spoken. 

you ended the class with your phone number in his contacts, where he created a new text thread the moment you parted ways. you left the lecture hall feeling more educated than you had all semester, and it had nothing to do with classroom management. 

when you got to your car, you were quick to turn on the heat to defrost the november chill that had seeped its way into your bones. when you went to plug in your phone, you almost screamed at the notification that was sitting on your lockscreen. 

hyunjin: hey pretty girl, miss you already hyunjin: can i see you this weekend? i’m free friday 

as if adrenaline was shot directly into your veins, every thought about lee chan disappeared. you were quick to screenshot the messages, sending them in your groupchat named ‘🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒 (and tiny)’.

you: [1 image: attachment] you: THAT SHIT FUCKING WORKEDDD

it took less than a minute for your boys to answer you.

yeo: are we getting live updates now  yeo: is that whats going on yeo: (yay btw)

you: YEA. UR ALL INVOLVED NOW

twin: see what happens when u listen to me

sannie: yay!!!! why are we yelling!!!

you: BC IM HAPPY AND EXCITED AND HE TEXTED ME

yunho: he misses u “already” .. it’s been four days yunho: eeeek

you: but he misses me you: did u see where he said that you: btw just in case u missed it

— yunho liked your messages.

you didn’t realize that you had forgotten to text chan back in your hyunjin-related daze, only remembering he existed when you saw his blonde hair peeking out of his hoodie as he walked to his seat on friday. 

your face felt hot as you followed behind him, completely embarrassed that you had forgotten to answer him, and now you had to sit next to him for the next hour. was he mad at you? did he care at all? you were usually really good about answering your texts — you had to apologize. 

“chan,” you said as soon as you sat down, the word escaping your lips before your bag hit the ground. “i am so sorry i forgot to answer you.” 

he lifted his head, almost looking surprised at your words, his bright eyes wide and eyebrows raised. “don’t apologize, i assumed your boyfriend saw my text and didn’t want you to answer.” 

“my boyfriend?” you cock your head to the side, and chan looked at you like you had three heads. 

“yeah, the guy’s instagram you were looking at on wednesday? you were staring at it for like, the whole class,” he said it like that must’ve been the only answer — if you felt embarrassed before you started the conversation, this was mortification. 

“oh my god, chan, that is not my boyfriend,” you waved your hands in front of you, you could feel the heat in your ears. “he’s just… he’s an influencer i follow.” 

he laughs, his head tipping back, “that makes total sense! i thought he was going to find me after class and beat me up or something.” 

you shake your head, laughing alongside him, grateful for your quick thinking. a little white lie never hurt anybody, especially not lee chan when he turned to you and asked, “wait, so you’re single?” 

you give him a nod, “painfully.” 

“that’s good!” he smiles, his voice getting a bit louder. your classmates that sat around you turned their heads, following the interruption— class hadn’t even started yet. he hushed his voice, quickening the pace at which he spoke as he continued, “well, not good for you, but good for me. actually, it could be good for both of us, depending on your answer.” 

“my answer?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. 

he raised a flat palm to his blonde forehead, squeezing his eyes tight, “damn, i fucked that up. do you like whiskey?” 

a smile threatens to break out across your cheeks, the left corner of your mouth lifting up. “i might, i’ve never had it before. why?” 

“there’s a tasting tour at a distillery on the edge of the city, i’ve been dying to go for a while now but none of my friends will go with me. i figured since i want to get to know you better, and maybe you want to get to know me better—”

“lee chan, are you asking me out on a date?”

“i’m trying to,” his smile is wide, a rosy hue to his cheeks. “are you free tomorrow night?” 

“i am,” you nod with a laugh, “i’d love to go, sounds fun.” 

his smile is impossibly bigger as he claps his hands in front of him, “thank god.” 

getting ready to go over hyunjin’s place wasn’t as nerve wracking as the last time, you could dress a lot more comfortably, but you still wanted to impress. a lounge set that clung to every inch of you and a pair of faux sheepskin boots covered your feet, equally as cozy as it was cute. if going to his place ended up anything like last time, you wanted to dress the part. desirable, yet not trying too hard. 

as you walk into your kitchen to fill up your water bottle almost your entire family is stood around the island, already deep in conversation. they all turn to you and you stop in your tracks, but no one says a word. 

“you should just knock on his door and say take your pants off,” yeosang broke the silence with his hand in a bag of chips, looking at you through hooded, red eyes, glossed over enough to shine under the cool lighting of the kitchen. 

you shrug, not sparing him a glance when you said, “not a bad idea.” 

“tiny!” your mom scolds, a fake gasp on her lips before she winks, “at least make him work for it first.” 

“we’re missing the point here,” your stepdad comments with a frown, shaking his head, “i don’t want to hear about that shit.” 

you smile, “don’t listen then.” 

“tiny,” she warns as you fill your water, ignoring her. the rest of the boys were quiet for once, ace not even cutting in to defend your stepdad, he knew better by now. everyone did.

“i’m leaving!” you call as you finish filling your water, turning on your heel to walk to your front door. you hear steps behind you, a six foot two hindrance on your tail. 

“are you sure you want to go over there?” his eyes are less red than yeosang’s, more glossy than anything as you turn to face him. 

you’re taken aback, not expecting yunho out of all people to hold you up. you have one hand on the door handle as you ask, “why wouldn’t i?” 

“i have a bad feeling about him, teens, i don’t know,” he lifts the cap off his head to run a hand through his hair, then pulls his hat back on. he looked stressed, eyes darting everywhere but your own and fingers tugging at the hem of his hoodie. you brushed him off.

“don’t be ridiculous, he’s just a guy. i’ll be fine,” you bid him a smile and wave of your hand before you fully turn around again, slipping through your front door before he had the chance to get another word out. 

you felt uneasy as you slipped into the driver’s seat, yunho has never spoken to you like that — never put his two cents into anything that had to do with your love life, even if it just became existent. 

in high school, with your petty crushes and kisses behind the bleachers, he’d never been anything but supportive. through all of your conversations about meaningless hookups in college he’d never given you more than a smile and a nod, he’d never called you out or mentioned anything of an opinion. you didn’t know how to take it. 

as hyunjin opened his front door, he wore that same kind smile that got you under him in the first place. dressed in a loose fitting tee shirt and sweatpants that hung off his hips, you almost took yeosang’s advice. 

“hey, baby,” he pulled you inside by your waist, planting a quick kiss on your lips. when he pulled away he licked his bottom lip, raising his eyebrows in satisfaction, “strawberry?” 

you smiled, mumbling about your lip gloss being new as you took your boots off, keeping your purse on your shoulder. he walked off into his kitchen and you followed, white socks sliding against the dark hardwood floor. 

“want a drink? i have wine,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you, a mischievous smile on his lips. you felt off— you didn’t know if it was from yunho’s words placing paranoia in your brain or if there really was some sort of weird tension between you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling.

you shook your head, putting your purse and water bottle on his counter. “i brought water, thank you though.” 

maybe it was all in your head, hyunjin seemed completely normal as he sauntered toward you, placing his hands on your hips, pulling you flat against him. his words came out low, dragged out as he said, “i missed you.” he pressed his forehead to yours and you smiled, running your fingers up his arms to his shoulders. 

“missed you too,” you pressed your lips to his, hands coming up to cup his cheeks. he kissed you softly, lips moving in a slow rhythm, his tongue slipping into your mouth. his hands moved up to your chest, feeling you through your top, and you sighed into the kiss. 

all you could think was that he had ample time to see you since last saturday, it’s been nearly a week. you weren’t as into it as you were last weekend.

he pulled back, his eyes at half mast and searing into yours. he lifted a brow, “everything okay?” 

“yeah!” your voice was high pitched, an extremely clear lie, one that didn’t go unnoticed by him. 

he stepped back, back hitting the edge of the counter, arms crossing. “what’s up with you?” 

he spoke as if you’d known each other forever, as if your behavior was uncommon. it didn’t sit right with you, it felt fake, like he was pretending to know you so well. you wanted to slap yunho — if he hadn’t said anything, you wouldn’t have walked inside hyunjin’s apartment with a sour feeling in your gut. now the feeling wouldn’t leave you, and you only had him to blame.

“nothing,” you shook your head, trying your best to wear a convincing smile. beneath the facade was your date, how the doormen at the exhibit knew his name, the mind blowing sex you had, how he nearly ghosted you after, how he’s acting now, yunho’s words in the back of your mind… you were beginning to wish you hadn’t come here. 

he tipped his head back with a sigh before answering, “is it because i didn’t text you much this week? i’m sorry, baby, i’ve been really busy.”

you nodded, wearing the smallest smile, “it’s okay, you don’t owe me anything.”

he lifted a brow, “that was too easy.” he stepped toward you again, painted fingertips reaching for your arms, pulling you close to him. “you sure nothing’s bothering you?”

“how did the guy working the door at the exhibit know your name?” the question fled from you without you allowing it to, your eyes widening in surprise for just a second after you’d processed what you asked. you stared up at him and he was taken aback, mouth opening and closing a few times before responding.

“me and him go way back,” he smiled, glancing down to his fingers that still held onto your forearms. “an old friend from high school.”

you lifted a brow, “what about when you flat out told me you’d never been to the exhibit before, yet you knew everything that was in there?”

his lips pursed as he stepped back, putting distance between you. 

“you go there all the time, hyunjin, the doormen know you because you go there. often,” your eyes were piercing him now, you didn’t know where this was coming from. wednesday you were ecstatic about coming here, even moreso tonight, right before yunho opened his fucking mouth. 

he let out a laugh, as if you were making all of this up. “no i do not!”

“what about when you said you didn’t take me back here just to sleep with me?” you couldn’t stop now, anger rising up from a place you didn’t know existed. you could hear san’s words in your head, when you mentioned hyunjin wanted you to sleep over last saturday — probably so he could fuck you again. “why’d you invite me over tonight, hyunjin? so you could kiss me and feel me up through my top? get me back in your bedroom?”

“do you hear yourself right now?” his eyes were wide, a smile on his face that told you he was amused. “i didn’t think you were the crazy type, i guess there’s nothing different about you.”

you stared at him, expression unchanging, jaw locked and eyes ripping him apart without saying a word. he still stood with that cocky smile, hair falling so effortlessly around his face, it enraged you even more. 

“come on, baby, i don’t wanna fight…” he stepped forward again, fingers once more reaching for your wrists. you tucked them behind your back, giving him one last look before you grabbed your stuff and moved. 

it was a quick walk back to his foyer where your boots lived, it felt entirely too long with hyunjin on your heel. “are you seriously gonna go? what was your plan, come over here, yell at me and then leave?!”

you stayed silent, pulling your boots over your heels, then reached for the door handle. you whipped it open and he caught it, arm looming over your head as you slipped out of his apartment.

 “this was a waste of my fucking time.”

you didn’t look back once as the door slammed behind you, keeping it together until you made it to your car – then the tears fell. the past week of your life felt like whiplash, is this what dating is like?

you didn’t know if you had it in you to do this again, repeat the process, if it was even worth it just to show off to your family. you leaned back in the driver’s seat of your car, tears falling silently onto your top, the only noise in the car was your sniffles. 

“please give me some kind of sign, any sort of guidance. i need to know if i’m doing the right thing,” you whispered into the air, eyes trained on the ceiling of your car, but your gaze went way further than that. you hoped he could hear you. 

the distillery was something out of a grown man’s wet dream, there was way more to be toured and learned than you imagined. you hadn’t imagined it all actually, not until about an hour before chan picked you up, then you just imagined a big bar. 

there were so many different things to see during the tour — it was an experience. from ingredients to water source, fermentation tanks and stills, barrel rooms for storage, how they package bottles all the way down to the tasting. not only did you get to go to the tasting room, but chan added on a cocktail creating class for you to learn how to make different drinks with whiskey. 

you learned you did not like whiskey — not one bit. the easiest to drink was a honey bourbon, sweeter and less smokey than the other ones you’d tried, but it was extremely easy to appreciate the liquor for how much work was put into making it. 

when you were in the tasting room, the tour guide was adding water and ice to almost every single pour you’d tried and you still had to fight the gag that fought to rise up in your throat. you had the back of your hand glued to your nose, fighting to get the taste out of your mouth. 

chan, on the other hand, was loving it. in the barrel room, the tour guide was shooting different types of whiskey into his glass, all raw, undiluted and straight from the barrel. the strength of it was no joke, you saw the pink rise to chan’s cheeks after his second glass — at that point you still had the tasting room to go to and the class. 

“this is actually really good,” chan’s eyes were wide in surprise as he slid the deep caramel liquid in his glass toward you, cheeks tinted a cool rose. 

you were sitting in the tasting room, on your fifth and last pour. you tapped out long ago, and chan had not only been tasting his share, but yours too. you dipped your tongue into his glass like you’d done the four previous times and cringed, it was spicy. 

you coughed, eyebrows knitted together and your hand immediately coming up to cover your mouth to keep the bile at the bottom of your stomach. you breathed through your nose, tears beginning to form at the base of your eyelashes. 

chan didn’t notice, instead he looked toward the guide, his hand shooting up in the air. “why does the rye taste so different?

the guide smiles, oblivious to his clear intoxication, “the rye is the spice, it gives it the kick unlike the sweeter bourbon, that’s why it’s paired so well with dark chocolate.” 

chan turns to you, his expression dead serious as he says, “we should get a bottle and a bag of dark chocolate, that’s probably really good.” 

chan had said really good about eighty times since his cheeks had grown pink, at this point it was funny how many times he could repeat the words. 

“i’m good, actually,” your lips form a thin line, waving your hand in front of you. you’d be perfectly fine going your entire life without tasting whiskey again.

chan frowns, “didn’t you like this one?” he goes to grab an almost empty glass, a sweeter bourbon that you hated the least. instead of grabbing it, his hands tip the glass over, which falls into another almost empty glass, spilling different shades of honey liquid all over your small table. 

chan gasps, bidding you a sheepish smile, “oops.” 

you glance around, there was not a paper towel to be seen. you whispered a fuck before you hopped up from your seat, legs rushing to the bathroom to get paper towels. 

you caught yourself in the mirror as you reached the bathroom, over your shoulder as you pressed the dispenser repeatedly. you took a moment with yourself to take a deep breath, fighting the tightness in your throat, forcing the tears to stay where they’d formed. it was all too much. 

you refused to cry in the bathroom on a date with your drunk classmate, especially not over being overstimulated. you shook your head, pulling yourself together and darted back out to clean up his mess. 

“thank you, ‘m sorry,” he mumbled, looking up to you with his big doe eyes as you wiped down the table. you smiled, he was so fucking cute. how could you be upset at a face like his?

“no biggie, i cleaned it all up,” you held up the paper towels as proof. 

he leaned his head against your side as you stood over the table, his fingers in his lap, a yawn ripping from his chest. maybe you’d only been on one date previous to this, but this had to be the weirdest position you’ve found yourself in yet. you convinced yourself before you came to not cancel, you thought it’d be uplifting after what happened with hyunjin —which it is, thanks to his cute face and repetition of really good— but the foul mood you’d been in since last night loomed over you. 

maybe you should’ve rescheduled, waited until you were in a better headspace before cracking your exterior to let chan in. it was too much, so many things happened in twenty four hours, you wanted to sleep. you still had the cocktail class after this. 

the guide finished up the tasting, taking your group to the distillery’s bar area, a long oak counter before a wall of whiskey. there were bar stools as if it was a regular old bar, which you were sure it was, with time scheduled out to hold these classes. 

chan wobbled in behind you, fingers tangled with your own, moreso you pulling him along than you were holding his hand. he was still giggly about it, staring at your linked fingers with a wide grin, you couldn’t help the warm feeling in your stomach from how adorable he is. 

chan wasn’t like hyunjin, didn’t ooze sex appeal the way hyunjin did, wasn’t flirting with you with big facts and lore about things you’d never understand. chan was almost innocent, with his fluffy blonde hair and skateboarder clothes, not once during your entire date so far did you really pick up on anything romantic between you. 

it felt like you were out on an excursion with a good friend, trying out something new with someone enjoyable. even if you didn’t necessarily enjoy what you were doing, it was so fun to do something new, and experience it with someone new. 

“welcome, welcome,” you looked up at the bar after helping chan get situated at the stool, and who stood tall behind it took your breath away. 

with skin like honeyed amber, brown curls that laid carelessly over his forehead, a straight jaw that held up a smile that could kill… he was perfect. he put hyunjin to shame. 

you supposed you couldn’t compare them, broad shoulders and a sculpted chest, arms so muscular you couldn’t stop staring. hyunjin was a masterpiece on his own, but this man had an entirely different aura. he reeked of old money, poise, a maturity you realized you were looking for in the wrong places. 

“this class is gonna be really good,” chan beamed, hand holding his face with his elbow propped up on the bar. you agreed with a sound of amusement then brought your eyes back to the man whose face you needed to burn to memory.

“i’m mingyu, your bartender and your teacher for the next,” he looked down to his watch, a gold band with a face so intricate you knew it was expensive, “forty three minutes.” 

“i’ll be teaching you how to make three classic cocktails today— a manhattan, an old fashioned,” he glances to all of you sat around the bar and you swore his eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, “and to get a little fancy with it, a vieux carre.”

“what’s a vieux carre?” chan asked from beside you— you think social anxiety is afraid of him as the entire bar turns to look at who asked the question, he doesn’t even notice. your cheeks flush, trying to escape everyone’s focus. 

mingyu smiles, canines on display, “you beat me to it.” 

“first i’ll get into the history, just in case there are any other whiskey nerds amongst the group,” he winks and you nearly pass away. you wish you heard a word that left his lips after that wink but your ears tuned him out, his mouth was moving but your thoughts were too loud to hear anything. 

how his pretty lips moved when he spoke, the veins that rose in his neck as a chuckle escaped him, how his fingers held onto the shaker, his build was incredible. 

“…you’ll find that a vieux carre is most popular in new orleans where it originated, it was invented in the 1930s by a bartender named walter bergeron. the name vieux carre literally means ‘old square’, a nod to the french quarter of new orleans,” his gaze fell over chan as he speaks, eyes pointed in a way to let chan know he was answering his question, “it contains rye whiskey, cognac, sweet vermouth, benedictine liqueur, and bitters.” 

you burned under his gaze even if he wasn’t looking at you, a heat that lingered even after he looked away. 

“in front of all of you are three sets of ingredients, tools, all organized into groups for each drink we’ll be making,” mingyu explains, pacing from one end of the oak bar to the other. 

you turned to chan, whose face lit up at the sight of all the spirits, liqueurs and bitters in front of him. “we’re going to share,” you said under your breath in his direction and he gave you a look that said definitely, eyebrows scrunched and lips pursed with a thumbs up. you fought a giggle at his look, everything he did has been making you laugh all day. 

mingyu began explaining how to make a manhattan, and the more you listened the more you realized you’d be making all of the drinks — chan would have to be your taste tester, much too buzzed to be able to pour a half ounce shot. 

you nodded to yourself, pulling all of the ingredients towards you as mingyu kept explaining, setting yourself up. two ounces of rye whiskey, one ounce of sweet vermouth, two dashes of bitters and a cherry — easy enough. 

“can i pour the stuff?” chan asked from beside you, halfway off his barstool, fully pushing himself into your space. 

“i’ll measure, you pour,” you nodded without looking at him, adding ice into your glass and setting it to the side. 

you grabbed the bottle of bitters and handed it to chan, “shake this in there a few times.” 

he did as he was told, adding a little more than you would’ve into the shaker but you were sure it was fine. you poured the vermouth into the one ounce side of the jigger and handed it to chan, who poured it inside the shaker (almost missing the shaker completely). you repeated the process twice with the whiskey and shook it with ice, pouring it into your chilled glass, and chan added a cherry on top with a proud smile. 

“it’s perfect,” chan marveled, eyes widening at how gorgeous the cocktail looked in the glass — you agreed. 

“let me taste,” mingyu walked over, a thin straw in his hand, where he dipped it in and plugged one end of the straw, locking the liquid inside. 

the way he lifted it to his lips was criminal, his long finger covering one end of the straw, how his lips parted to taste the drink all while keeping eye contact with you. it almost fogged your brain completely when he started speaking. 

“strong on the bitters there,” he lifted his brows, a smile crossing his face, “but good nonetheless, nice job.”

you beamed— pride consuming you. you never thought you’d be proud of curating a cocktail that only consisted of three ingredients, but the way he complimented you made you feel like you had just climbed a mountain. 

you tasted it yourself after thanking him, taking a small sip of the drink. you cringed, tasting the spice of the whiskey so heavily, and chan looked eager, hand already outstretched to take it from you. you passed it over as soon as the taste hit your tongue. 

“that’s fucking disgusting,” you muttered, nose crinkled, lips in a frown. chan giggles as he takes a swig of the drink, getting it down with ease. 

“it’s delicious,” chan disagrees, “we have really good teamwork flowing right now, you making the drinks and me drinking them.” 

you snort without noticing mingyu, who was walking back over to you wearing a dangerously gorgeous smirk on his lips, “ah, not a fan of whiskey?” 

you wipe all emotion off of your face in surprise before a nervous laugh escapes you, “it’s just strong.” 

he laughs with you, nodding along, “not many kids like you make it through a distillery tour and tasting without liking whiskey, maybe one of the cocktails will change your mind.” 

you internally cringe as kids like you floats off his lips — how old is this guy to be calling you a kid? he doesn’t look a day over twenty five. 

he looks to chan who had taken another big swig of the cocktail, almost finishing it off, “actually, maybe you should just focus on getting him home safely.” 

you hadn’t even thought of that— chan had driven you both here. your face drops and mingyu chuckles again before directing his attention to the rest of the bar. 

“okay… there’s a lot of drama surrounding the correct way to make an old fashioned, so i’ll make this quick — you’ll be learning how to make kim mingyu’s old fashioned.” 

by the time the class was over, chan was hammered. three strong drinks and a couple of secret two ounce pours of rye whiskey straight down his throat, he was done for. you didn’t stop him, though, he was so happy you couldn’t bring yourself to say no. a part of you wondered what his plan was if you couldn’t drive you both back to his place. 

“you gonna be okay?” mingyu rips your attention from your phone to him as you stand in the middle of the room, waiting for chan to return from the bathroom before you leave. 

“what do you mean?” your eyebrows furrow as he walks closer, and you finally see him from the waist down. a pair of white slacks, a thin, black belt, paired with the slightly oversized cardigan he had on— you couldn’t match his expensive if you wore your mother’s entire wardrobe. 

“is he your boyfriend? the little, drunk blondie?” he tilted his head with a ghost of a smile, one of his hands sliding into his pockets. 

you stared at him in disbelief, eyes slightly pointed because you didn’t know if that was an insult or not, “the little drunk blondie is a friend from my class.” 

“class?” he lifted an eyebrow, “did you show your ID before coming in here or do i have to fire incompetent staff?” 

your lips parted for a moment before you asked, “fire staff?” you knew he looked older, he definitely portrayed a certain maturity but you didn’t think a mere bartender would have a position high enough to fire someone. 

“my point is, are you gonna be okay getting home? you’re sober?” you blinked at him twice before a smile planted itself on your face, he stayed after to talk to you. he approached you. maybe you weren’t crazy and his eyes did linger on you for a moment longer, maybe he was in yours and chan’s corner more than anyone else’s.

“you think i actually drank any of that?” you smirked, tilting your head to one side, “couldn’t stomach shit after the barrel room tasting.” 

he tsks, his own mouth lifting at the corner, “it’s an acquired taste, maybe you’re not old enough yet, tiny.” 

you audibly gasped— he said it wrong, but the word tiny definitely just left his lips. “what did you just call me?” 

his eyes widen and you could see the tips of his ears redden, “i- it wasn’t an insult, i just don’t know your name and—”

“no, no,” you shook your head with a surprised laugh, waving your hands, “my family calls me tiny, that caught me off guard, i’m sorry.” 

you run a hand through your hair as his cheeks redden, so unlike the demeanor he portrayed. that rich poise he exuded was gone in a moment, a childlike innocence taking over with his embarrassment. fuck— you were so into him, and you’re on a date with someone else.

“anyways, i’m sober and we’ll get home perfectly safe. thank you for asking,” you smile, catching chan enter the room from the wooden double doors behind mingyu. 

he wore a huge smile, nearly skipping over to you as he yelled, “mingyu! thanks for a really good class, i loved it!” 

he slightly slurred his words, reaching up to put his hand on mingyu’s shoulder that towered over him. mingyu smiled down to chan, “of course, anytime, man. i’ll give you my card just in case you’re interested in buying whiskey— straight from the source.” 

his gaze turned to you as he finished his sentence, reaching for his wallet as he spoke. he pulled out a small louis vuitton card wallet, handing you his business card from inside. 

it was brown with white lettering, the name seventeen whiskey on the front with kim mingyu on the back, owner right beneath his name, and his contact information directly beneath that. 

you looked up at him in shock, clutching his card between your fingers, firing incompetent staff made a lot more sense now. even his outfit made more sense— you felt silly for thinking he was just a bartender. he owned the entire fucking distillery. 

“i want one too,” chan looked up to mingyu, bidding him those doe eyes that no one could say no to with a pout, and mingyu was quick to fall victim — you would’ve, too. 

you both bid mingyu goodnight and walked out of the distillery, bracing yourselves for the long walk back to chan’s car. when you finally sat in the driver’s seat you gave yourself a moment to breathe— he’s gorgeous, he’s kind, he called you tiny out of all things, he’s the owner. he gave you his number.

as you started your drive back to chan’s with low music humming through the speakers, you could feel the business card in your pocket burning through the denim of your jeans. he gave you his personal number, that meant you should call him tomorrow, right? or did he really mean for whiskey purposes? 

you shook your head, he was definitely inconspicuously giving you his number. even if he outright said call me you didn’t think chan would notice in his state, you could've said anything to chan and it would’ve gone in one ear and out the other. 

as you pulled into the parking lot of chan’s apartment complex you finally looked over to him and he was knocked out. eyes closed, hands clutching the hoodie he had on, he was out cold. you smiled, his sleeping face was so cute. 

after you parked, you pulled out your phone and dialed ace’s number to pick you up— no answer. you huffed, head leaning back into the headrest before dialing yunho’s number instead. 

“teens? you okay?” he answered after one ring, a panic to his voice. 

“yeah i’m okay, can you pick me up please? chan got real—”

“absolutely, send me your location, i’m on my way,” he hung up and you sent him your location, then turned to the sleeping chan beside you. you smiled again, the serene expression on his face and the soft, rhythmic breaths he let out, his chest rising and falling with such a calm you were jealous of. he’s so beautiful.

“chan, time to go in,” you grabbed his arm lightly, giving it a small squeeze. he stirred and you squeezed him again, and one eye finally opened. 

“huh?” he asked, stretching his limbs, looking every shade of confused. you snorted again, rubbing his arm where you squeezed it. 

“let’s get you inside,” you smiled and unbuckled his seatbelt for him, then got out of your seat, walking around the car to open his door. you put out a hand for him to grab, “come on, sleepy.” 

you smiled the entire walk up to his apartment— this felt so backwards, but so fitting for chan. his apartment was so boy, with sports posters and magazines and the mess. you knew he had roommates from the piled up shoes at the door but none showed their faces as you walked him to his bedroom. 

he plopped on the bed, peeking at you with the eye still visible with his head crushing his pillow, “you’re not staying?” 

you couldn’t stop smiling as you sat on the corner of his bed, giving him a shake of your head. “not tonight, it’s bedtime for you, lee chan.”

the corner of his smile was visible and he closed his eyes, mumbling through the fluff of his pillow, “had a really good time tonight, thank you for coming with me.” 

you stood and walked to the door, shutting off his light before you said, “goodnight, chan.” 

when you walked out of his room, a guy stared right back at you. jaw dropped, hand in a bag of chips, glasses on his face— he was stunned. brown hair curled atop his head, down his neck, a baggy sweater hung on his shoulders. all of chan’s friends must be as cute as him, this one resembled something like a chipmunk with his mouth full of chips. 

you gave him a smile too along with a small wave as you left the way you came, through his front door. yunho was parked right outside and you let out a sigh of relief, you could sleep so soon. 

your brain was whirling as you got in his passenger seat— you had so much to unpack, so much to think about. it all started yesterday. 

“everything okay?” were the first words out of yunho’s mouth, “do i need to kill anyone?” 

you laughed, shaking your head, “no, chan just got hammered at the distillery and i had to take him home, no biggie.” 

he lifted a brow as he put the car in drive, “the man who took you on a date got too drunk to take you home? i’ve never heard of someone getting fucked up at a distillery.” 

you shrug, “he was having fun.” 

“sorry it didn’t go well,” yunho frowned, turning the wheel to pull out of chan’s development. he had soft rock playing through the music again, you were sure his fingers would tap along to the music any minute now. 

“it went great, actually,” you smiled, “he might not be boyfriend material but he’s a really cool guy. i happened to meet someone else,” you wiggled your eyebrows towards yunho who gave you a look. 

“you met someone else on a date?” he asked, baffled, and your smile grew. 

“he’s the owner of the distillery, gave me his number on his business card. god, he’s so hot, he’s gotta be a step up from hyunjin,” you threw your head back on the headrest, eyes shut, smile on your face. yunho doesn’t share the smile. 

“anyone’s a step up from hyunjin,” he shook his head, “what happened yesterday, anyways? you came home crying, heard your sniffles through the wall.” 

“wow, thanks for checking on me,” you scoff, “you were right in your mysterious bad feeling about him, he sucks. just wanted to sleep with me, just like san said.” 

yunho paused, lips tightening into a line. “i’m sorry, teens, you deserve better than that.” 

you shrug, “it’s cool, the only reason i realized is because you said something, now i know not to trust art guys that kiss you while they fuck you.” 

as you pulled up to a red light, yunho faces you, expression dead serious as he says, “im serious, tiny.” 

you nod, feeling smaller under his gaze, letting out the smallest “i know.” 

“you’re special, teens, you can’t go around giving yourself to just anybody. you deserve someone who’s gonna appreciate you, cherish you, all the little parts about you. i’ve known you since you were born, i can’t sit back and watch you go on a slew of disaster dates with shitty guys who don’t deserve to breathe your air,” the light turns green and his gaze is back on the road, but yours doesn’t leave him. 

you stared at him as tears welled up in your waterline, you didn’t know what to say. you didn’t say anything, neither did he because yunho doesn’t talk like that. for the rest of the car ride, tears silently fell down your face as his fingers tapped his steering wheel to the song, but the silence wasn’t awkward. it was comforting— as yunho always was, as yunho always will be. 

8fd masterlist | main masterlist

tags: @chimivx @emmxxsworld @alisonyus @livixcore