#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

[saetiate]

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.

[jackiesunshines]

SORRY, I'M SO STUPID | S.LOHMANN¹²

summary: you're an idiot who lost the love of your life. somehow, you get her back.

contains: sydney lohmann x bayfcplayer.ᐟreader, exes to lovers, mentions of relationship insecurities, sorta messy timeline, mentions of concussion/injury, jealousy, jealous.ᐟreader, sydney got the patience of a saint, they're inlove your honor, some angst with fluff

word count: 6.0k

author note: first fic on this blog, hopefully you cool ppl in my phone like it. lil warning for the fic going from past tense to present tense alot, that's the point. i tried a slightly different writing style doing this so let's hope it eats. enough yapping, enjoy ❤️ p.s. this is a lyrics fic.

PLAYING THINGS I WISH YOU SAID BY SABRINA CARPENTER

baby, sorry, i left you in the dark. i always reach for your leg over there on your side of the car

you are really fucking stupid. at least, that's what you have been telling yourself for the past two months.

you're in your car, on your way to deyna's party. of course, san jose traffic is packed and going at snail speed, leaving you with time to think many thoughts. way too many thoughts.

thoughts that are mainly involving a pretty, german blonde who used to be yours at one point. she would still be yours right now if you didn't end things impulsively.

what did your parents say when you were a teenager about how social media is poison? you are slowly starting to agree because you let opinions circulating around social media and your insecurities end a good thing. now the one person you didn't want to hurt in this life is hurt and you're hurting alongside her.

you almost want to forget about her, but who could forget about sydney?

that's why when you change lanes to reach your exit on the highway, your hand automatically goes to the passenger seat to reach for a thigh that isn't there.

right. she's in germany, not here.

you're so fucking stupid.

baby, everything reminds me of you. nobody gets my jokes, everyone here thinks i'm fucking rude

being at practice reminds you so much of sydney. it makes sense, you both are professional players. so of course your day is riddled with memories of sydney.

arriving at the training facility reminds you of that time sydney told you she tripped coming into bayern's training building, and she was teased for days.

going through drills has you thinking about when sydney whined on the phone everyday about her legs and feet hurting after practice.

time in the gym, doing your cardio is not that different from the days where sydney and you would workout out together. getting a sweet treat right afterward.

so, by the time training is over, you are ready to get dressed quickly in the locker room and duck out to go drown in your self-pity and regret at home. it's too bad that even the locker room reminds you of sydney or the lack thereof.

“why are you changing so fast? trying to run away from those bad shots you made?” jen jokes, coming to sit by you at your cubby.

you look at her, your hands still occupied tying your shoe. “you cannot be talking after the amount of times you fell. your age catching up to you?” you say in a similar joking tone with a side of deadpan,

or so you thought as everyone looks at you like you're crazy.

“i was just playing around, chill,” jen says. her words confuse you and so does the reactions of your other teammates.

did your joke have venom that you were unaware of behind it? or did you say it more on the side of deadpan than joking?

all you know is that sydney would have laughed at that. she would be giggling so hard, her face would get all red. then she would have thrown an even better insult right back at you.

you really miss her.

when i saw you cry, i didn't handle it well. without you here, i don’t know what to do with myself.

your nights have been so boring ever since you broke up with sydney. the same routine: get home, shower, water the plants, eat dinner, and then spend an hour or two scrolling on social media trying to fight the urge to stalk sydney's page.

you had blocked the blonde back when you two first broke up. you remember how klara texted you about how that's “childish and just hurts you both more.” she's right, of course, but who's going to tell her that? not you. not after you made a whole big deal about moving on and focusing on your career.

moving on doesn't even seem right. that's for people who were heartbroken by chance, not on purpose. it's not for people who hurt themselves by ending something that was good and stable because they couldn't get out of their own head.

still, as you lay there and scroll, your entire being craves for what used to belong to it.

you desire sydney's warmth.

you miss sydney's scent.

you are hungry for sydney's kisses.

you need to be held down by the weight of her body on top of yours.

instead, you are being weighed down by the pain you inflicted upon her. haunted by the sight of tears filling up in her eyes the day you ended everything and walked away. the unanswered text messages she left you the following night after she got drunk. the single text that followed the morning after that,

those were mistakes. ignore them.

everything blares in your head like an alarm that never stops. a clock that is broken, but not because it doesn't sound off but because it continues to sound off even if you want it to stop. there is no snooze for your regret, not with the way your dreams are filled to the brim with thoughts of sydney, too.

i think about these things at night before i fall asleep. things i wish you said to me.

syd's barely affectionate with her.

they don't give off girlfriends vibes.

sydney is more cuddly with her friends than her own girlfriend.

wonder when they are going to break up.

it's not going to last.

you reread the comments that led to your self inflicted suffering in the first place. the noodles in front of you on the table have run cold and your appetite is halfway gone at this point anyways.

social media has never been a big part of how you move throughout the world. you love to doomscroll, and of course, you have your favorite creators across platforms. you know about different trends and internet slang. duh, you aren't thirty. but you never used to let social media dictate how you interact with people outside of it. social media is full of algorithms and echo-chambers made to take over people's thoughts. forcing them to stay on apps longer than needed to look for solutions for problems that have been caused by said apps.

that's always how you felt.

but even you fell into the trap of social media. early in your relationship with sydney, you were too in the honeymoon phase to think about looking at socials. too wrapped up in sydney. however, when you two calmed down into a just as in love but more controlled state, your mind started wandering.

wondering what people are saying about you two. do they find you two cute? couple goals? were there fanpages for your relationship?

other players who are in relationships often have these things, so why wouldn't you guys have those as well?

what you didn't expect to find was people overanalyzing the way sydney and you interacted in public. for people to wonder if you guys are even in love.

“they don't see me when i'm with you. they don't know how attached i am to you every second we are alone,” sydney said when you brought up your growing insecurity. she was smiling all sweet, sitting on top of you.

how could you not believe her with the way she's kissing the frown off your lips?

your insecurities still grew and grew and grew until they became a hill. a hill, you weren't able to climb over.

they don't know how sydney loves wearing your clothes around and outside of the house because she's obsessed with your smell. they don't know about all the nights she cuddled into your side, basically glued to your skin. they aren't there on the days you were in sydney's apartment, cooking and dancing with her. they don't see the way she is all over you when you two are alone.

yeah, she wasn't super affectionate in public but that's only because she got so shy every time you showed her any love.

fans online didn't know about any of that, but you wish they did. you wish you didn't put so much value into their opinions because you probably would still have sydney in your grasp right now if you didn't.

if only you came to sydney about this more. the german player would rush to do anything that would make you feel better, more secure. but no, you just couldn't because you were afraid she would be annoyed you kept bringing the topic up after she reassured you the first time.

sydney would have never done that and you knew that.

that wrongful thought was influenced by that stupid hill in your head that was built on tons and tons of mean comments. the weariness of long distance fueled the comments impact on your mind deeply. getting reassured over the phone wouldn't be as satisfying as in person, so you never brought up the topic again and everytime you were with sydney, you didn't want to ruin the moment so again you didn't say a word. all of this created a hamster wheel you couldn't get out of.

you get up from the table, throwing your noodles away. they are too cool to eat now, and reheated noodles do not sound appetizing.

slipping into bed, your mind thinks back to the past over and over again until it tires itself out enough that you drift off to sleep.

things like “darling, i hope you know it scared me to death. the night that your sister said you got into an accident.”

number that SHOULD be blocked

i'm so sorry about your injury

when i saw you go down, my heart fell to my ass

i hope you have good ppl around you to take care of you ❤️

contact changed to sydney

you

i do

thanks for texting

sydney

….

yk i'm here for you too, right?

ik we broke up and aren't supposed to talk but

i'm just rlly worried about you

your heart feels like it's beating at 100 miles per hour. first, sydney texts you then second, she's worried about your injury and third, she wants to fucking be there for you.

is this a dream? have your wishes to get her back finally come true?

you look at the text, pondering what to send back. an immediate yes would be too desperate, right? but you are desperate for her you think to yourself.

fuck it, just say yes.

right when you are about to text back, sydney beats you to it.

sydney

there's no pressure

i know we haven't talked in forever

how is she being so considerate when you're the one who broke her heart?

you

i want you

sydney

??

you

i mean i want you to be there for me

can we talk pls?

be friends or whatever you want

sydney

duh

i'm the one who offered

there go the other side of sydney that you know and love.

“and god, i, i'm watching everything that you do. i can't get your songs out of my head or your hair out of my room.”

sydney and you have been texting back and forth everyday since that day she texted you. anyone looking from outside the situation would said it's heading straight for disaster. exes texting regularly again? especially when one is still very much inlove with the other? a speeding train just waiting to crash.

to that, you would say they don't understand. there isn't no tension or lingering resentment or anger between sydney and you while yall talk. that truth surprises you considering the fact you basically dumped sydney four months ago. if the roles were reversed, you wouldn't want to see her ever again, but somehow sydney's heart is overflowing with so much love that she doesn't have room to hate you.

she checks up on your well-being pertaining to your head injury. the recovery so far has been slow, very slow. you aren't even in rehab yet, still stuck at home resting and sleeping throughout the day. thankfully, your parents flew to san jose to come take care of you.

when you aren't sleeping, then you are texting sydney. her check-ups on you have slowly turned into long conversations about her day. texting her almost makes you feel like you two never broke up, that you two are still dating.

when you can't talk to her or are unable to sleep, you keep up to date with bayern munich. if someone asked why you were watching them, you would say not only for sydney, but that would be a lie. just a little white lie, though. you're watching for klara, lea, and lena too.. but mostly for sydney.

seeing her in her element, all sweaty and passionate, makes your head feel a little less broken, so yes, you will continue to watch her matches without telling her.

and what you don't know is that sydney thinks of you every time her feet touch the pitch. how she goes even harder than normal to impress you just in case you are watching. she hopes you are watching her, she always has and always will. even right after you broke up with her and she had to push her feelings down to go put on a good performance for germany, she played so hard she was MVP of both friendlies. back then, sydney hoped you viewed her performances with envy. with deep regret for letting go of a woman like her. now she hopes you look at her in admiration when she plays well.

you also don't know that sydney never threw away any of the gifts you gave her during your relationship. she was supposed to throw everything away in a box like lea recommended, but she couldn't. she couldn't throw away all of the memories she had left of you in her home. she couldn't delete the pictures she had of you in her phone. she couldn't even block your number.

sydney hanged onto every single last string she had that was still connected to you. it's hard to let go after being dumped. she thought, no, she knew you were the love of life. her entire world came crashing down when you sat her down on the last day of you visiting her in germany, suddenly saying you believe you two should be over. that long distance isn't working out for you anymore.

she cried for a week after you left. klara had to come over and help her clean up her apartment after a week of just crying in bed.

after that, the blonde slowly tried to move on. she went out more, with and without her friends. posted more on instagram. pushed herself into drowning in work related to football. even all of that didn't help her forget about you. she couldn't. her soul still yearned for yours.

she watched your matches in secret, all of her attention focused on you. her heart rate would perk up whenever commentators said your name. she wasn't able to pull her attention away from her tv when the camera would do a close-up of you.

so obviously, the day you got injured, sydney knew. she saw the way you went down and didn't get back up. her blood was rushing to her head, her chest was hurting as she watched you get carried off. it nearly felt like she was the one injured with how her body was feeling.

could sydney be faulted for texting you? for worrying about you? klara would slap the phone out of her hand if she knew about this, but good thing klara wasn't in her apartment. going off straight adrenaline and concern, sydney sent that text that led to you being back in her life.

texting back and forth everyday has sydney dopamine hooked. you still have the same effect on her that you always have.

every time she texts you, her eyes glance around her room at the various things you left behind when you broke up with her.

the sweater you never asked for back.

the dragon stuffed animal she won for you at a carnival.

the brush you always used when you came over. she couldn't bring herself to use it after you left her, so it just sat on her vanity, taunting her for ages.

sydney told herself that when she texted you about your injury, you two would keep a certain level of distance. that you wouldn't become lovers again. that she was only checking up on you every day because you deserved people in your corner.

that last part is true, but her other motive is also there: she wants you back.

i saw you meet somebody, and i'm jealous as hell. that i can't even stomach loving someone else.

the texting between sydney and you have gone from texting to calling. a big leap, but you both admitted to liking calling more than anything else.

the calling is totally not an indication of falling back into a similar routine from before the break-up.

or maybe it is because you don't fall asleep on the phone with your friends, you don't text your friends good morning and good night, you don't send so many selfies of yourself to your friends. those are actions you always have done with sydney.

anyone could see that you two still like each other, obviously, but you are seemingly blind to it.

perhaps it's the regret, pity, and guilt for ruining a good thing for no reason that's keeping you ignorant of what's growing between you two once more.

that ignorance wouldn't last forever.

sydney and you have now been in contact again for five months, more than no-contact lasted. your recovery is coming along better than your doctors expected. your head doesn't feel heavy anymore and you can have the tv above sixty without your head feeling like it's going to explode. sydney was more happy about this progress than you were.

syd 🥺

just watch

in a few months you're going to be able to run and play again

you

my doctors said that's not happening so soon

syd 🥺

idcc

you're like half magical so you will recover soon

you

LMAOOO

half magical is insane

you're crazy

syd 🥺

crazy or optimistic?

you

both…

syd 🥺

WOW??

okay i see how it is

say this to my face

incoming call from syd 🥺

after you answer the call, sydney and you talk for three hours. bickering back and forth with a mix of talking about your days. of course, your day is the same as always. you slept, ate, crocheted a bit with your mother, and saw your doctor. meanwhile, sydney's was full of life per usual. she went grocery shopping, helped lea clean out her spare room, got some sweets from a bakery, and “saw the cutest dog while walking home” in her own words. hearing about her lively days makes you feel a bit better about your own days that are very simple and very boring nine times out of ten. there isn't much a person recovering from a concussion can do.

you could push away and ignore your feelings when you two were in just a bubble of you and sydney. nobody else is in the way, questioning if exes talking everyday was healthy. nobody wondering if all that contact would lead to something more.

that bubble is broken the day you see something that makes you feel sick.

it's a saturday, you're scrolling on instagram. sydney is busy at a gathering with some friends, leaving you to your own devices.

sorta already missing her, you go on her instagram to look at her posts. you had unblocked the moment you two started talking again. as you click on her story, you wish you still had her blocked.

your head feels like it's going to explode as you look at the photo: sydney is sitting on a couch, and some girl is on her lap, smiling way too hard.

what the hell was going on?

you almost type out a message to sydney before you get control of your emotions. it isn't your place to be jealous or hurt or annoyed. sydney and you aren't together anymore. you two are friends, only friends right now.

you feel sick as you swipe out of instagram. it's time for a nap before your head falls off of your body with the way it pounds.

seeing sydney with someone else is making you stop believing the lie that you two were platonic right now. you could never be friends with the woman you love.

i think about these things at night before i fall asleep. things i wish you said to me.

that instagram story sets off a series of events.

first, you slowly took a step back from talking to sydney. the step back was so slow that she didn't notice at first. honestly, you took two more months to not talk to her everyday because you were hooked on her messages. hooked on her jokes and selfies and laugh and cute rambles. still, you somehow did it. instead of talking everyday, you two talked three days a week and only for an hour. way less than you two used to do.

second, you started putting tons of work into your recovery. seeing a physical therapist and slowly incorporating small, easy exercises into your day helps you come closer to getting back on the pitch. the first day you step back onto the bay fc training facility grounds, your emotions are everywhere. you haven't seen your teammates as much as you use to when you were not injured and seeing them training while you were just visiting the physical therapist killed you. they were all happy to see you though, catching you up on everything that has been happening since you were away. your head injury has calmed down enough that you could sit outside and watch everyone else practice. all the shouting and sounds of bodies moving doesn't irritate your head thankfully. you follow this similar routine for a long while, even if you are slightly sad about not being able to play.

and finally, sydney confronts you about pushing her out of your life.

you're lying on your bed, having just came back from a day at the bay fc training facility. you and sydney haven't talked for a week straight, her apparently busy with her life over in germany and you making an active choice to talk to her less.

that's why when a notification from her comes up on your screen, you look away from your screen then back at it to see if this is happening right now. it's not the notification itself that makes you act like that, but the message,

sydney (wait 30 mins before answering)

why are you treating me like this again?

you

sydney

what are you talking about?

sydney (wait 30 mins before answering)

you're ignoring me

we barely talk anymore

what's gotten into you?

you try to think up an excuse. eventually landing on,

you

yk i'm busy with rehab and stuff

sydney (wait 30 mins before answering)

bullshit

stop lying to me

you

calm down syd

omg

sydney (wait 30 mins before answering)

don't tell me to calm down wtf

first you randomly break up with me for some stupid reason

“long distance isn't working” whatever that supposed to mean

i just know in my gut that's not why you left me

now we became close again and you're leaving me again?

why let me back in your life if you're going to do this to me

your head is starting to pound as blood rushes to your face. you always hated when sydney was angry with you and this time is no different. it's justified though. what you're doing is really cruel, pushing sydney away after becoming close with her again. you have hurt her once again.

you're so stupid.

in the process of trying to run from your feelings, trying to ignore the jealousy seeping from your psyche after seeing the photo of that random girl on her lap in that photo. lost in your thoughts, you don't realize that it's been ten minutes since you replied to her.

sydney (wait 30 mins before answering)

okay

do what you want

march 14th, 11:11pm, read

ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

“i don't know how to say this.. but you deserve an explanation. you wouldn't answer my calls or texts, and i get it. i left you not once but twice. both times for stupid reasons that i should have communicated instead of going ghost. the day i broke up with you.. i cried the moment i got home. all i could think about for so long is how hurt you looked. that should have made me act, but it didn't, and i just regret everything. the first time i pushed you away, it's because i let the internet get to me. make me feel all insecure about us. i pushed you away a second time because i realized i couldn't stay platonic with you. i.. saw that insta story of yours. the one with that girl on your lap. i lost my mind because i thought i didn't have a chance with you ever again. i'm really sorry, so sorry. i miss you so much. call me back, please?”

voicemail left to sydney, april 23rd, 3:00am

sorry, i pulled the “it's not you. it's me.” one day, i'll make sure you get a real apology.

sydney

are you busy?

she texts you one day in july. you thought that she was fully done with you after not speaking for nearly two months, but thankfully she isn't. you can make this right.

you

no

incoming call from sydney

…

“hello?”

you haven't heard her voice in so long. it sounds just the same, all soft and pretty. a rush of fondness hits you.

“hi sydney,” you say, more like whisper, into the phone.

there's some shuffling on the other line before she speaks again. was she moving around on her bed? it's a nervous habit of hers to move during intense situations you think to yourself.

you push your thoughts to the side as sydney speaks, “.. i got your voicemail.”

you thought she deleted it with how long it has been since you had sent it.

“did you like it?” you say.

why the fuck did you say that?

instead of hanging up the phone in your face, sydney laughs. you have missed her laugh so much.

“i wouldn't be calling if i didn't.”

“oh right.. sorry.” you let out a laugh of your own at your stupidity. not just your stupidity from right now but all the times before, too.

then the moment you start laughing, that makes sydney start laughing again. creating a cycle of you laughing at her laughter, then her laughing at yours and again. laughing on the phone with your ex after not speaking for some months once again is actually insane, but it seems like that's just how sydney and you are: insane.

the two of you calm down soon enough. getting back to the serious conversation that needs to be had.

“you know it really hurt me when you stopped talking to me. i thought we were getting somewhere.. platonic or not. it hurts even more to know you still like me but pushed me away anyways. don't you want me?”

“of course i want you.”

“then why didn't you say anything?”

“....”

“that was a stupid question.. i listened to your voicemail. i know why.. i just want to hear it from your own mouth in real time.”

you sigh before going silent for a moment. sydney doesn't speak, she just waits.

“i just.. was so insecure the longer we were together. i know at the time you told me to ignore social media, but i couldn't. all of those people were saying we shouldn't be together and that you didn't want me. i couldn't take it. i felt like i was holding you back from someone better, so i left. then when we started talking again, i deluded myself into believing we were on our way to being just platonic but i can never be just friends with you. the night i saw that photo on your insta story, i didn't know what to do.. so i left again. i'm sorry.”

“.. i accept your apology, but i'm still hurt. i thought you trusted me enough to talk to me about anything?”

“i do.. i did.. i swear.”

“you don't act like it.”

“i'll be better if you let me. if you want me.”

“i want you, but you'll have to work for it. i'm not taking you back that easily.”

i waste my time, i waste my life on idiotic things. like things you never said. things you'll never say to me.

sydney and you start talking again after that call. things between you two move slow though, very slow. more slow than the first time you guys got together.

you know that sydney is waiting things out, trying to see if you would leave her again. she keeps a certain distance when you two speak a little too flirty. she shuts it down quickly every time, which hurts, but you get it. you have to earn that side of her again.

and you do just that.

it's in small ways than some grand gesture. you tell about everytime you watch one of her matches, mostly praising her but throwing in some critique as well. after your rehab sessions, you tell her about everything. all your feelings surrounding the sessions, how much you've been improving. everytime you feel jealousy at one of sydney's posts, you talk to her about it.

that distance between you two slowly closes. not only emotionally but physically.

the summer the year after sydney and you reconnected for the second time since the break-up, you find the time to fly to germany for her birthday.

you asked before coming, though, not wanting to mess up the new connection you two are building.

“syd, i got a question,” you say, phone propped up on the bathroom sink as you got ready for another day at training. you have progressed very far in your recovery, thankfully, and can now do some light training with the team.

“hmmmmm?” sydney murmurs. she's looking all cute on the other line, face pressed to her pillow as she lays in bed. her room is dark, with the only light coming from her phone screen.

there's some hesitation that crosses your mind, but you push it away. communication, remember?

“can i come see you?” you ask.

sydney sits up slightly after hearing your question. there's clear confusion on her face.

“what do you mean?”

“i want to fly to germany for your birthday.”

sydney goes silent for a long moment. your nerves peak, looking at your screen. was this too big of a step for her? does she need more time to be ready to see you in person?

her answer surprises you.

“okay,” she says.

you booked your flight to germany that night and next thing you know, you're there. unfortunately, sydney isn't the one who picks you up from the airport. lena takes over that job, but it's still fun to hangout with lena after so long.

you don't see sydney until the day of her birthday. she claims she's been busy and you believe her. she texts you all the time even if she doesn't come see you physically.

your mind runs wild as you get ready for sydney's birthday party. you're in lena’s bathroom, making sure your hair looks perfect and your makeup doesn't make you look clown-ish and that your fit actually fits you and maybe you should brush your teeth again-

“you know sydney doesn't hate you, right?” lena interrupts your anxious thoughts.

“duh i know. i wouldn't be here if she did,” you say, still staring intensely at your appearance through the mirror.

lena rolls her eyes. “then why are you getting ready like we're going to a pageant? sydney likes you in every way. she was really hurt when you guys broke up, but obviously, she's moved on from it if she invited you to come all the way here.”

lena's words make you slow down your overanalyzing of yourself. she's right, sydney is forgiving you right now. trying to overdo everything to seem perfect isn't going to make her like you any more. she already likes you alot.

she wants you, not some polished version.

“you're right. i'm finished, let's go,” you say, leaving the sink and coming by the doorframe to make lena turn around. the two of you leave the bathroom, then put on your shoes and finally leave her apartment.

the drive to sydney's party is a short one, or at least it feels that way. lena, and you sing along to the songs on the radio the entire way there.

once at sydney's place, your heart starts racing. being back in her space feels so strange, but so right. alot is the same, but alot is different aswell. she bought a new couch, an upgrade from her old leather one. there's more plants around the place. her tv is new and even bigger than her last one.

the apartment is basically full with all of the bayern munich team and some other people from sydney's life. the smell of pizza and chicken hits your nose as you walk from the living room, where you greet everyone, to the kitchen.

and there is sydney.

her back is turned as you walk into the kitchen, but you can tell it's her.

her hair is styled in a ponytail, and she's wearing this black tank top and nice fitting jeans. she looks so pretty. she looks even prettier when she turns around.

“y/n?” sydney looks at you like she wasn't expecting you. perhaps she wasn't fully prepared to see you in person? even though she knew you were coming to her party. she allowed you to, after all.

you smile at her, “hi syd. is it too soon to say i missed you?”

“is it too soon to hug you?” she smiles at you back.

“i would be stupid to say yes, and i'm done being stupid.”

sydney flies into your arms, embracing you tightly. her arms wrap around your neck, her cheek pressing against yours. her quick reaction would feel weird if it didn't feel so right. you hug her back just as tight. it's been so long since you've been in her arms. so long since you smelled her scent. so long since you've even been around her.

“thank you for coming,” sydney says as she pulls away. not going too far as she stands close to you.

you laugh, “i'm the one who asked you. i should be thanking you.”

“for what?”

“for letting me back into your life.”

sydney's and your reunion is cut short by laura coming into the kitchen. she gives you two a look but doesn't say anything about your closeness.

“syd, you better get in here. it's your birthday party,” laura says, pointing to the living room. sydney looks at laura before looking at you. without thinking, you grab her hand and pull her out into the living room. time to party.

you ended up staying for longer than you thought you would in germany. sydney allowed you to stay in her spare room for the rest of your time there. the two of you have many, many conversations about where you two stand currently. she's not your girlfriend just yet, but you two are getting there.

when it's time for you to leave for america, sydney drives you to the airport and even blessed you with a kiss on the lips as a goodbye. your face is permanently flushed until you board the flight.

she texts you the moment you get off the plane back in san jose as well.

syd 💕

land safely?

you

yupp

but i miss you :(

syd 💕

miss you too :((

we'll see eachother soon

don't worry

you

call you when i get home?

syd 💕

call me when you get home

author note: i might possibly be working on an alt verison of this with sydney's pov.. depends on if my brain feels like working. hope yall enjoyed! 🙂‍↕️

© JACKIESUNSHINES, 2025

[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.

[everythingspokenfor]

ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʟᴅ, ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴏʀɪɢᴀᴍɪ.

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Baker!Reader

Summary: Nanami-san scoring a date with his baking instructor...

Part 1

Nanami doesn't need to take baking classes, infact he is skilled enough to be teaching here, he is still here tho, learning how to make sourdough bread (another one of his expertise).

He doesn't like going out anymore, Shibuya altered that in him, no longer likes walking around the city searching for best sandwiches.

Shoko had recommended these classes, shoved a pamphlet into his hand, rambling something about not wanting him to rot away in his office. It's a gesture of kindness, he knows she doesn't pity him, that doesn't mean his mind won't make up twisted scenarios.

His face is burnt, the scars following till his fingertips, left eye gouged out leaving behind a shallow socket and a drawer full of patches that the kid's got him.

He doesn't care about his appearance, at least that what he tells himself, tho sometimes it's hard for him to believe. Especially when kids point at him, their parents hurriedly grabbing their arms and apologising.

People displaying pity towards him when they bump into him. The 'I am sorry's' haunting him as he tries to go about his day.

He would have spend the remainder of his life cooped up inside, had his friends not intervened.

That's what led him here, baking classes. He spends his evenings here, a decent size studio where you, teach how to bake. The place is set rather nicely, 6 counters lined, equipped with an oven and a sink, pantry in the back along with a fridge.

You do a great job at teaching, always making sure everyone understood the instructions. He didn't interact with you first, feeling too shy, too intimidated, too ugly, to talk to someone as pretty as you, even if it was under the guise of asking for a recipe.

Nanami wouldn't lie, he did continue with the baking classes because of you, even if he knows the bitter truth, that he isn't someone desirable, he still chose to admire you from afar.

So, he should up to the classes, sharp 4 p.m. daily, picked his apron, always looking over to see what colour you wore so he could subtly match. He goes to his assigned spot, and prepares for the day. He does however sneaks glances at you, especially when you are focused on something, when he is sure he won't be caught.

Rarely ever does he talk to anyone, and seldom does anyone approaches him too fearful of his scars and the vast build.

It was you, who approached him, hands behind your back as you moved swiftly around different countertops, observing everyone's work.

You came to stand beside him, watching him mix cookie batter, you stared at him work for few minutes, before looking towards him, he was already looking at you, nervousness evident when he darted his eyes away the moment your eyes locked. Giggling you moved on to the next table, giving input and advices to make help improve the baking.

He noticed your pattern immediately, you spend the longest hovering over him, but never do you say anything, no critiques, no compliments, just observing his baking and him before you move one to next person.

The knowledge that you observe him alot doesn't really make it easy for him, in fact that's the cause of majority of his mishaps. He could be baking for hours with meticulous precision, but once you come around to see, he fumbles, and he fumbles hard.

There have been so many incidents, where he had dropped bowls, spoons and other cutlery just because you showed up next to him.

On his own, he had never been a clumsy man, so these accidents did keep him awake at night, hoping that you didn't think he was some clumsy guy that couldn't coordinate properly.

It's been almost 2 months since he joined the classes, today the class was about baking sourdough bread, one of his favourite baked goods.

He may have gotten too lost in his baking, kneading the dough with perfection, separating it and adding chocolate chips to one batch, leaving other plain, to make savory sandwiches.

He put both in the oven, grabbing a cloth, to clean the counter, when he noticed you leaning against it. Startled a bit at how you sneaked up on him, he drops the cloth, before he could reach for it, you leaned down to pick it, passing it to him.

"Thank you for that." He take the cloth, moving back creating some distance between you both, flustered by the initial proximity.

"You don't really need these classes, do you?"

"What do you mean?" Nanami questions, wondering what exactly you meant.

"These classes, I have noticed from the beginning, you are far too skilled to be here." You explained, gesturing your co-workers to help others, before moving to stand near Nanami, and peer into the oven.

"You are perfect at eye-balling ingredients, never over or under bake goods, always clean up and list goes on." You lean back, arms crossed as you look at him, he is an attractive man, despite the scars, infact they add to his appeal.

"I don't, it's just I needed to do something with all the free time I have." He admitted earnestly, suddenly feeling too exposed under your gaze, he turns around averting his gaze, choosing to wipe already clean counter.

"If you are so free, Mr. Nanami, why not have dinner with me?" You queried, he stood still, too shocked, wondering if he heard you right.

"I am sorry, what?!" He couldn't really understand what you meant, surely you did not mean what he assumed you meant, you probably aren't asking him out.

"I said, would you like to have dinner with me, Mr. Nanami?" You repeated, cheeky grin spreading on your plump lips, "I am asking you out, as a date." You clarified the obvious, making sure he understood what you meant.

"Are you sure?" He blurted, "I mean, we have never really talked before, and to go on a date suddenly." He explained, blush spread on his cheeks, tips of ears turning rosy too. It's always a delight to watch grown man fumble his words.

"That's why a date, so we," You moved closer, hand moving between you both and gesture him and you, "could talk, get to know each other more." You explanation was reasonable, what Nanami didn't understand was, why him, of all the guys you could get why someone like him.

"We can go, I think,"He says, finally fully turning towards you and meeting your eyes. He watched as your grin widened, you pulled out a napkin from the stand, clicking a pen you wrote down your number with a winky face.

"So, Mr. Nanami, I'll be taking you out for dinner, this Saturday if that's alright." You hand him the napkin, turning around and going back to work, leaving behind a flustered, somewhat baffled but mostly elated Mr. Nanami.

[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.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 132 (Solving the Brindletons' Murder)

Though spring had sprung just about everywhere, the snow stuck around in Brindleton Bay. With Ash in the city and Heather in Selvadorada, Hazel spent time with her girlfriend, and Conrad spent time bonding with Lavender.

He had been hard at work on George and June Brindleton's murder case since his return from Sulani, on top of trying to keep his detectives in line with their own cases. With Easter fast approaching, he finally made the breakthrough he'd been searching for.

He entered Brindleton County Prison and greeted the staff. They'd grown accustomed to his visits, but he wasn't here hoping to finally break Ximena. With Hazel watching Lavender at home, Conrad had come this evening to talk to John Brindleton.

The inmate entered the room with a scowl, avoiding a greeting when he recognized his visitor. "Did you need something, Lieutenant Gordon?"

"I'm going to cut right to the chase, John. Why did you hire guys to kill your parents? Did you not think they'd give you up if they were caught?"

John Brindleton scoffed in his orange jumpsuit. "They're lying."

"We found receipts from the money transfer. How did you move it from in here?"

"My mother was generous, and bankers do whatever you want if you have enough money."

"So she shifted the money you used to pay the hitmen, and you killed her for...her generosity?"

"No, I killed her for siding with him, staying with him even though she swore she hated him. She stayed with him and he kept abusing me. So I got rid of both of them."

"But why? You were almost done your sentence."

"It's not so bad in here," he sniffed. "I met someone."

"I'm happy for you." He shook his head with a pitiful glance. "They're in here?"

"They had nothing to do with my decision to rid the world of my parents, so we don't need to talk about them."

The embattled lieutenant shook his head with a frown. "Be careful in there, John. You're going to be behind bars a long time, and there are a lot of snakes in there."

"The Brindletons aren't snakes?" John barked, offended that Conrad clearly saw him as a loser. "Look where I came from. My father wasn't the first Brindleton to wreak havoc in that town, and the name's been a poison for me since I was born. The Brindletons have plundered through the Bay from the moment the first ship from Windenburg landed two hundred fifty years ago."

"I'm not here for a history lesson."

"Why not? The name Francis Gordon means nothing to you?"

Conrad's blank expression made John Brindleton laugh. "He was the real captain of the ship my ancestor, Silas Brindleton, claimed to be sailing when the town was founded. Apparently Francis financed the boat, found the settlers, and would've been the town's first mayor, but he got sick on the way and Silas saw an opportunity. The Gordons were resourceful, and Francis' wife stayed in the town to raise her children, but the Gordons and Brindletons were bitter rivals until most of Francis Gordon's descendants picked up and moved to San Myshuno. The last Gordon living in town was..."

"Ben Gordon..."

John grinned. "I'm surprised you know that, but none of the rest. My ancestors did a great job covering up the truth. They wiped Francis' name from every artefact in the town museum, but the original documents are inside my family's safe deposit box in Windenburg Bank. Made themselves into the prodigal sons, 'saviours of the Bay' and all that crap."

His story unfolded as Conrad listened closely, slightly incredulous to the whole tale. "The funny thing is, Lieutenant Gordon...if not for the Brindletons, your good, honest, kind ancestors would have founded the town, instead. Who knows what sort of paradise the place might've been. But since I'll be stuck in here for decades, you might as well know. If Brindleton Bay has a real 'prodigal son', it's you."

Conrad laughed, but John pressed on. "It's no wonder my father hated you so much. You joined the force and it's like he's been haunted ever since. You threw him off his game. Left him hiding out in Sulani too long, and that made it easier for me to execute my plan. You've already done better for Brindleton Bay than we ever did, which I can say as the snake you just put away for life."

John was taken back to the cells as Conrad reeled. Family history didn't mean more to him than doing the right thing, and he had no interest in wearing his badge as any sort of prodigal son. Though he'd closed the case on the Brindletons' murder, the place was still at risk of crumbling now that George's hands weren't reaching into every corner of the town.

He was even more resolved to keep safe his family and the people of the Bay he'd come to care for.

His thoughts turned to Ximena, who was somewhere inside the large prison counting the days until he'd run out of time to keep her behind bars. He needed something ironclad, and Rafa hadn't reached out since Conrad left him in Sulani.

He needed a distraction and considered calling Heather, but he wanted her to have her fun. Instead, he placed a call to someone he hoped could help him solve a few of his problems.

"Conrad Gordon, my favourite grumpy lieutenant!" Felix Psyded laughed into the phone. "I was just with some new acquaintances, but I'll always have a minute for you, my friend." ->

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Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

WCIF Police Station: Used in this installment and the episode when Conrad saw Ximena behind bars, it's available on the Sims 4 Gallery by MarmeladArt. I've used it exclusively in second saves so it doesn't accidentally become the default police station Conrad goes to work to every day. I would use it for that purpose if I did the detective career again (many, many, many generations from now...)

[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 song inspo was Driver's Seat by Madds Buckley

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)

[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.

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