#bicycle crunch

[fitnfemme]

7 Best Exercises For Toning Your Core

If you're looking to tone your core, there are plenty of exercises that can help. Here are some of the best exercises for toning your core. Incorporating these exercises into your routine will help you build strength and tone your core.

Swimming is one of the most beneficial physical activities for women. It offers a range of health benefits that can help improve your overall well-being. Here are some of the top health benefits of swimming for women. 1. Improved Cardiovascular Health – Swimming is an aerobic activity that helps to strengthen the heart, improve blood circulation and reduce blood pressure. Regular swimming can…

[skinbodyu]

How to Complete A Bicycle Crunch

  How To Complete A Bicycle Crunch   What is a Bicycle Crunch? A bicycle crunch is an abdominal exercise that targets the rectus abdominis muscle (also known as the “six-pack” muscle), as well as the obliques. To perform a bicycle crunch: Lie on your back with your knees bent and feet flat on the floor. Place your hands behind your head, and lift your head, neck, and shoulders off the…

[daguerreotyping]

Extremely realistic and accurate depiction of a hussar in battle, 1826

[wndaswife]

just saw a three inch long bug with like forty legs

amazing

then it ran under the heating room sliding door where my luggages are

it rlly said april fools bitch no more exercising on the floor for u anymore

[lilacborrower]

body image issues.....

[butchlifeguard]

i think i accidentally ankle weighted myself wrt abs

[bubmyg]

she felt left out while I was working out ig

[torhues]

i will die doing hiits

[freeonlineworkouts]

How to Perform Bicycle Crunches Correctly

[exculis]

Pelvis hurts.

[educatedsimps]

— currently thinking of suna rintarō working out shirtless

*suggestive cuz it’s shirtless suna*

suna has insane abs. like, it’s canon. it was in that one episode where ukai (i think?) said that suna has really strong abdominal muscles which is why his spikes are so hard to block ‘cause he can literally twist his upper body and spike past the blockers. so you can trust that suna does super intense ab workouts so he can keep up his performance on the court.

and he does it shirtless just to rile you up.

he probably didn’t do it on purpose at first but when he realised it made you all hot and bothered he started doing it all the time. he probably also set up a home gym just so he could show off to you ngl.

he used to work out in his old volleyball jerseys and black shorts but now he just wears shorts that show off his immaculate thighs.

you’d be walking in there to ask if he’s seen the box of cotton buds you just bought the other day and you’d see him on the floor doing bicycle crunches. with his perfectly sculpted abs in full view.

like when he does sit ups and stuff, you can actually see his abs contracting and straining as he moves. also the sweat glistening off his pale skin and the way the evening light highlights the ridges of his abs have you feeling some kind of way. and obviously he notices ‘cause once he’s done with his set he gets up with his towel over one (broad) shoulder and saunters over to where you’re standing dumbstruck at the doorway. he’s all hot and sweaty and his gaze only gets more intense as he gets closer and before you know it he’s grabbing your jaw and kissing you greedily. probably pinning you to the doorframe too. oh my knees are weak just thinking about it

a/n: might’ve gotten carried away thinking about shirtless suna lol whoops. anyway, i’m getting some of the shorter works out of the drafts first while i work on the longer requests and fics! hope you liked this cuz i certainly did 🫣 -lyssa

© educatedsimps 2024. do not repost, copy, translate or plagiarize any work from this blog on tumblr or any other platforms. if you do, the simps will hunt you down. likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[pisupsala]

Hitchin' a ride

Or two times you told John Egan no, and the one time you said yes.

Part 1 of Are You Going My Way?

John "Bucky" Egan x female!reader Words: 7k Warnings: mentions of blood, wounds, hospitals

It gets dark early in winter in East Anglia. By the time you leave the ward, it’s pitch dark despite it barely being past dinner time. Huddled in your dark blue wool cape, you trudge along the side of the road, holding a small torch to light your way. There’s a cold, biting wind tonight, and it feels like it’s going through every layer you’re wearing, straight through your bones. Breath shuddering, you pick up your pace, the gravel barrier between the road and the grass crunching under your standard-issue brown boots. The faster you get back to the nurse’s barracks, the faster you’re out of this wind and soaking your sore feet and cold toes.

Thorpe Abbots sprawls strangely, but you usually don’t mind. The quiet walk at the end of the long shifts in the operating room, rounds on the intensive care ward, cleaning, and inventory is your moment of solace. A moment where you can finally let the smile fall off your face, where you can grit out the curses you've bitten back all day, the crinkle in time when you are allowing the tears to well up and drip down your face silently.

There is no textbook or training to prepare you for the horrific reality. Torn flesh, burns, and the blood. The fear and agony. The pained screaming. The blind panic.

You have never felt more that you are where you need to be, yet you are so completely and utterly powerless.

A light catches your eye, reflecting on the trees around you in a ghostly flicker. Glancing over your shoulder, the light floats through the darkness, gliding towards you. The soft ding of a bicycle bell pulls you out of your reverie. Turning fully, the light casting off your torch finally illuminates the figure on the bicycle. 

“Major Egan,” You greet him, trying to keep the surprise out of your voice. He has no reason to be here. There’s nothing down this road but the building with the nurses’ quarters. It’s not the first time you’ve encountered Major Egan somewhere he has no reason to be. But you, as an army nurse and merely a first lieutenant, are not about to question him on that.

“You shouldn’t be walking here alone at night, lieutenant,” He tells you, stopping next to you. You stop, too, taking a good look at him—because why wouldn’t you—as he gets off his bike. 

A little too friendly, a little too forward. His bright, sharp blue eyes are contrasted by luscious dark curls and that devilish smile. Tall, broad-shouldered, and moving with a confident grace, he is hard to miss. And if you were to somehow overlook him in a crowd, he commands, demands, attention. There is something dangerously magnetic about him, something electric.

You best keep your distance.

“Don’t worry about me, please, Major,” You reply politely. “It’s not late, and I know the way,” 

“Are you done for today?” He asks conversationally, smiling, his eyes crinkling happily. The tips of his ears are red from the cold. In the middle of a quiet road, in the dark, in freezing temperatures, it’s an odd place for polite conversation.

“Yes, I’m heading back to my quarters,” You smile. “Long day,” You add, hoping to cut the conversation short, desperately trying to suppress the full body shiver from the cold. You notice with some envy that Major Egan seems wonderfully unbothered by the biting wind in his sheepskin jacket. You nod at him, turning back in the direction you had been heading, gingerly taking a step. Hopefully, he gets the hint.

“I could give you a ride,” 

You stop dead in your tracks, looking back at him wide-eyed. 

“I’m heading in the same direction, so you’d get there quicker,” He beams at you with that brilliant smile, patting the carrier at the back of the bike. Instinctively, you start shaking your head, trying to keep yourself from vocalizing your thoughts.

You’d be out of the wind. You’d be in the warm faster. You’d have to get close to Major Egan and hold on to him. You bet that that sheepskin jacket is nice and warm. You bet Major Egan is nice and warm.

“Isn’t that the bike you almost lost an eye for?” Your sense of self-preservation is stronger, has to be stronger, than any magnetic force or joking flirtation from Major John Egan.

“Almost?” He seems surprised you brought it up but recovers quickly. “I remember it differently — it was a bullseye, not my eye,” 

He looks at you like he’s expecting you to laugh with him, but you just blink in disbelief. That’s an awful joke. For a mere second, in the reflected light of your torch, you see his smile falter—he’s smart; he knew that was a dud. You purse your lips.

“I suppose I like my rides without stories of near-eye trauma attached,” You muse. It’s such a flimsy excuse.  

“Do you think it’s bad luck?” It’s a chillingly honest question, and all cheer has suddenly disappeared from his voice. You pause to think. It hadn’t really occurred to you that Major Egan might be a particularly superstitious man; somehow, he didn’t seem the type. But in these times, superstition creeps up on even the most staunch rationalists.

“Luck has nothing to do with it, Major,” you finally admit, eyeing him carefully. He frowns, suddenly unsure of the gravity of the conversation through his own too-candid question. “I would just hate to encourage any of that sort of behavior,” You add lightly.

“So, you would have accepted if I had a different bike?” He sounds on the precipice of hopeful, but the laughter in his voice is evident again. He changes so quickly and bounces back from everything in a mere second — it’s all a joke, after all. He’ll do you a favor and then jokingly ask for a kiss. And then maybe another. And then he’ll move on to whatever or whoever catches his eye next. 

You wrinkle your nose. No. You’re not interested, you repeat to yourself. If you were, you might as well have stayed at home and practiced your good graces at dinner parties. You joined the Army Nurse Corps because you wanted to do something, mean something.

“I’m going now,” You clench your jaw to stop your teeth from clattering. “Good night, Major Egan,”

“Suit yourself, lieutenant,” He grins, undeterred, as he watches you turn on your heel, huddling into yourself to protect yourself from the wind. Truthfully, Bucky wasn’t expecting that you would accept his offer. If anything, he wanted to see how you’d react: your replies are always calm and composed, so very proper, but you have a bad poker face. From the way you scrunch up your nose in annoyance to how the corner of your mouth sometimes threatens to pull into a smile at his jokes. And Bucky notices that your gaze lingers just slightly longer than would be polite, although nothing coming out of your mouth would corroborate that. It’s adorable. It’s intriguing. And he knows you won’t make it easy on him.

But that’s not why he keeps thinking about you. That’s not why he goes out of his way to look for you.

You suddenly took root in his thoughts only a few weeks back. It had been a bad day. Worse than Bucky had seen in a while, there had been many bad days lately. 

Being Air Exec has some perks, mostly that other people don’t really question why he’s wandering the halls of the infirmary at the dead of night. In the hallway, set up on provisional cots, medics are asleep, still fully dressed. They just collapsed on the first soft spot the moment they could. He can hardly blame them.

His footsteps echo through the dark rooms. The wounded men in the beds are fast asleep — it’s eerily quiet except for the occasional snore. 

He’s not sure why he’s here. Maybe it’s to assuage some of the guilt he’s feeling — he’s fine after all. He didn’t go up with them, after all. Maybe because he needs to see the pain with his own eyes, afraid that he’ll forget.

The doctor on duty is doing rounds, his desk empty, when Bucky slips through the swinging double doors to where the heaviest casualties are put up. The air in the room feels different—heavier. It’s not quiet—labored breathing, raspy, sometimes gurgling, groans of pain in artificial sleep. He really shouldn’t be here. 

All beds are full.

It’s been a really bad day.

It’s there that he notices you first: sitting on the floor, arms crossed and tucked up against yourself, head leaning against the wall, and legs bent at an uncomfortable angle. In the first second, he thinks someone fell out of their bed. But as Bucky gets closer, he recognizes you — the seersucker cotton dress, the matching cap now crumpled and skewed on your head, and the clearly scuffed and dirty white oxfords. You are one of the OR nurses.

He’s seen you around, just in passing. In chaos between casualties, just from the corner of his eye. Sometimes, you showed up at dances or parties, and Bucky had noticed your cute laugh from across the room, the way your entire face lit up when you smiled. And he knows he’s not the only one who has noticed the delightful sway of your hips as you walk, evident even through your dress uniform. But you made damn sure to make yourself unavailable by sticking with your girlfriends. He’s never seen you accept a drink or dance with someone.

Your mouth is slightly open as you breathe deeply, your form cast in the pale moonlight peeking through the sides of the blinds. Bucky wouldn’t let a woman sleep on the floor in normal circumstances, but in this case, waking you up would be cruel — there isn’t a bed free in the whole hospital. And even bad sleep is better than no sleep.

He moves past you carefully, mentally putting names to all the men here. Those that made it. That’s a good thing, right? They made it. Bucky doesn’t recognize the figure moaning in pain louder and louder, hands desperately grasping at the neatly tucked-in covers —  his entire head is covered with a thick layer of white bandages, not even leaving a slit for his eyes, just a small opening for his mouth. He hesitates before his curiosity takes over and moves by the side of the bed to look closer. It’s a good thing, right?

He should do something to help him.

Bucky is so lost in thought that he doesn’t notice you brushing past him. He almost jumps out of his skin when your torch suddenly clicks on at the foot of the bed. You are bleary-eyed, blinking rapidly as your eyes fly over the patient chart. 

“He is due for a new round of pain medication,” You state softly, voice still thick with sleep, before looking up at Bucky. “Major,” is all you say in acknowledgment of him.

“Nurse—lieutenant,” He mumbles in reply, increasingly on edge from the patient’s distress. “What are you—” Before he can start running his mouth in confused ramble, you trust the torch at him.

“Hold this, please, Major,” Your voice is barely above a whisper, yet it cuts through the noises easily in its steadiness and calmness. The small torch is now in his hand, your fingers brushing over his palm unintentionally as you move through the dark. It’s like a small spark burned the spot where your fingertip touches his skin. “Up, please,”

Bucky complies, shining the light from a high angle as you prepare a syringe. You look exhausted, but nothing in your movement betrays that. Clinical, precise, and so calm. He watches you speak softly to your patient, your free hand wrapped loosely around his wrist, a syringe poised in the other. But the patient is struggling harder, too panicked, and in too much pain. 

It happens in a split second.

The patient sits up so quickly that Bucky almost stumbles back in surprise. The patient now has an iron grip on your lower arm, white knuckles, moving in a blind frenzy, pulling you clean off your feet, half over the bed. You yelp in as much surprise as in pain as your knee collides with the metal bed frame. Your face is contorted in pain as you struggle back, trying to regain your footing. 

“It’s okay, I’m here to help you,” You keep repeating patiently. Never let them know you are scared: they can’t calm down if you are not in control.

Your voice doesn’t waver one bit. Bucky clenches the small torch between his teeth, trying to free your arm from the patient’s grip. 

“N- no” You breathe, clearly in pain now. “Please, Major, just help me to hold him still,” 

You are still holding the syringe, poised to strike. Grabbing the patient by the shoulder and forcing him back against the pillow. In the struggle, the torch falls from his mouth. It clatters on the tile floor and rolls away. He is so focused on his task that it’s almost by surprise when the struggle ends within a few seconds, and the patient drifts off again. He never saw you give the injection.

You both stand there, breathing heavily. Bucky bends down to retrieve the torch from the floor. It’s still shining, although it flickers uncertainly with every move. When he straightens back up, he catches you looking at your arm, the brown sleeve of your vest rolled up messily. When you realize he’s looking at you, you pull the sleeve back down and busy yourself tucking the patient back in. But Bucky has seen the angry red fingerprints imprinted on your forearm.

“Thank you, Major Egan,” Not a quiver in your tone, although your breathing has barely slowed down. “It’s probably best you go now,” 

“Are you alright?” He cannot help but ask, gaze traveling to your arm. He can’t help but notice you must have been issued a vest a size up, as the sleeves are a bit too long on you. It’s adorable.

“Please don’t worry about me,” You reply, smiling, but it’s clearly a deflection. The corners of your mouth are quirked up, but your eyes just spell tired. “You should try to get some rest, Major. The sun will be up soon,”

There is a certain sense of irony in you telling him that. At least he has a bed to go to, you think wryly. You start walking towards the ward exit, signaling he should follow you. 

“Will you be okay here by yourself, lieutenant?” It’s not his place to worry about you, but you are just… you. And these men are in pain, scared, and -

“The doctor will be back from his rounds soon,” Your soft voice pulls Bucky from his thoughts. You stand at the door, holding it open for him. If he hadn’t just seen that chaos happen, he would have never guessed by your demeanor anything happened.  As he passes you, you salute him. He salutes you back, gazing over to you. The tips of your fingers are shaking. 

The thought is sudden and overwhelming: he wants to lace his fingers through yours, pull you against him, and hold you until you stop shaking.

“Goodnight, Major,” You whisper with a pointed look. You want him out of here so you can check on your throbbing knee and painful arm away from his prying eyes.

“Goodnight, lieutenant,” He replies, tearing his eyes away from you.

***

In early spring, it seems like the rain never stops, from semi-permanent drizzle to raindrops rhythmically ticking against the window pane to the torrential downpour you find yourself in now. The drab-colored trench coat is putting up a valiant fight to keep you dry.

You’re holding your purse over your head but to no avail. The cold trickle of water from your sodden hair travels down your spine. You’re trailing behind your friends, who are making good time through the storm. Water sloshes in your left boot, making it heavy, the drenched woolen sock rubbing painfully against your foot. 

Then you hear it. The all too-happy ding of a bicycle bell. 

You try to walk faster, gritting your teeth, but Major Egan has caught up with you in just seconds. You don’t stop to greet him, just glancing over at him with narrowed eyes. Gracefully, he jumps off the bike, matching your pace by foot easily. His dark curls are plastered to his forehead, his cap sagging under the weight of the water it must have absorbed. He shouldn’t look this good, sopping wet, especially when you feel so wretched.

“Lieutenant, I could get you where you need to be a whole lot quicker,” he calls out.

“No, thank you, Major,” Your tone is polite, but you keep walking, falling behind further and further from your friends as your left boot squelches with every step. You know he noticed. 

“You’re really not going to take me up on the offer? Even in this downpour?” 

“Most drops miss,” You can’t keep the scowl off your face as you march on. 

“You are so unbelievably stubborn,” He laughs. You don’t think you’re stubborn; you just don’t like feeling like your hand is being forced. 

“I don’t need you to save me, Major.” You tell him evenly, finally stopping and turning to him. You know your friends noticed you stopping but probably figured they were doing you a favor and kept going. 

Bucky regards you carefully — you look miserable. The curl has long been rained out of your hair; rivulets of water running down your face, dripping on the collar of your trench coat. The steep downturn of the corners of your mouth pretty much just seals the deal. But despite all the evidence, you would never admit you’re anything but fine. 

“Save you?” He sounds incredulous. Like the thought never even crossed his mind. 

You bite your lip — you might have said too much. But you are afraid that he might ask you for something if you owe Major Egan a favor. He will ask you for something. And you won’t be strong enough to tell him no maybe because you want him to ask. Who wouldn’t?

You’ve seen him look at you from across the room before, and when you scrape together the courage to meet his gaze, it’s like electricity. Short, intense, and almost painful. And then he looks away, his attention turning so fleetingly. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Forget it,” You mumble, clearly embarrassed. Closing your eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, you wish nothing about this moment was happening right now. When you peek through your lashes at Major Egan, you note he looks concerned.

“For what it’s worth,” He clears his throat, not a trace of humor in his voice. “I never considered you to require saving, lieutenant.” 

You keep looking at him sharply, finally shaking your head. “You have a funny way of showing it.” 

There is something deeply absurd about the whole conversation. Just tell him no. Just bid him goodnight and leave. Why are you even entertaining him with your feelings on this? And it’s clearly entertainment to him.

“I’m going to my quarters now, Major,” You state, feeling the need to be polite despite your increasingly impolite feelings about the situation. “And you’re going in the wrong direction,” You add pointedly as you start walking again. It feels like you have an entire puddle in your boot now.

“So what would you prefer, lieutenant? A more classic approach?” That devastatingly handsome grin is back on his face again as he walks beside you. How is that what he took from your last statement? Your shoulders sag when you feel the butterflies in your stomach. “At the next dance, I buy you a drink and sweep you off your feet on the dance floor?” 

“I might be more agreeable when it’s not freezing or raining,” You sigh like it’s paining you to admit it. Maybe he’s imagining it, but Bucky likes to think he saw the shadow of a smile pass over your face as you say it, even though your voice is painfully neutral. 

“Is that a yes?” Again, that hopeful edge. 

“No,” You reply curtly, but you feel bad the moment you say it because you see his smile fall — he’s staring at you somewhere between confusion and growing frustration. It’s making you feel bad. A horrible little selfish part of you wants him to only smile at you. Major Egan could light up a room with that smile — he regularly does. The selfish little monster in you wants to be the reason that he smiles like that. 

“Ask me again at the dance, Major,” You amend carefully.

The way his face breaks out in that broad, beaming smile makes you weak at the knees. 

***

Bucky is on pins and needles tonight. Even Buck, usually so even-tempered, is getting irritated with him. Drumming his fingers on the bar, tapping his foot not to the beat of the music but to blow off some of the anxious energy. People are flittering in and out of the hall, but there is no sign of you yet. He’s going through his whiskey too quickly, and it’s doing very little to calm his anticipation.

After an hour of only half-listening to the conversation going on around him, constantly glancing at his watch, he finally sees the pack of nurses come in. Bucky’s heart drops a little because you aren’t with the group. You’re always with that group. Knocking back the rest of his drink, he resolutely makes his way to the table now occupied by five gossiping nurses. All eyes are on him as he approaches.

“Good evening, ladies,” He smiles, eyes searching the table. All chairs are occupied — clearly, your friends aren’t saving you a seat. A chorus of good evenings and giggles comes in reply.

“How can we help you, Major Egan?” A blonde nurse asks, peering up through her lashes.

“I’m actually looking for my favorite nurse,” He replies easily, holding his smile despite feeling mildly annoyed. When he mentiones your name, another chorus of giggles. 

“I thought I was your favorite nurse,” One of the girls pipes up. The girls burst out laughing.

“She’s on the night shift,” An earnest, young-looking nurse cuts in, pushing up her glasses. Bucky doesn’t really recognize her — she must be quite new. “I asked to switch shifts because I haven’t been to a dance here before.”

“You should have found someone from the afternoon shift,” the blonde nurse sighs in a bored tone. “The poor girl is putting in a double shift now,”

“No one else would switch with me,” The bespectacled nurse defends herself with a small voice.

Bucky should be annoyed. Did you scheme this out on purpose? You run so hot and cold between your lingering looks and thinly veiled barbs. But then again. Of course, you would switch shifts with the new girl out of kindness. You slept on the floor to stay close to those most needed care. Doc sang your praises in the officer’s mess regularly for staying late to finish inventory, covering in emergencies, and keeping the OR running smoothly. Kindly caring for everyone around you.

He should be annoyed. But instead, he feels jealous. It’s a horrible feeling. But you cared more about the new girl than him? Is it really so bad that he wants your kind attention aimed at him? That he wants to be your choice? You wouldn’t even give him a shot. 

It just won’t do. But now, at least, he knows where to find you.

At the end of the dark hall, a faint light. A lone lamp on a lone desk, with a lone nurse sitting at it. You hear him coming, of course. Your bright eyes look straight at him as he emerges from the darkness. You are already getting up out of your chair, ready to greet him, notes and medical textbook forgotten on the desk.

“Good evening, Major Egan,” you greet him, your voice soft. Your gentle tone carries sweetly through the quiet hall. You didn’t expect him to come find you. It feels far too serious, far too earnest. You haven’t seen or spoken to Major Egan for over a week now, and for your own sake, you decide that he hadn’t been serious—that you hadn’t been serious. It was just banter.

Truthfully, you were slightly relieved the new girl asked you to switch shifts. But as you sat at the duty desk by yourself, blankly staring at the pages of your medical textbook, your stomach twisted painfully with regret. 

“Good evening, lieutenant -” you cut him off with a sharp shush, tapping your index finger against your lips. You step a bit closer to him, voice a sweet whisper. “Please keep it down,” 

A beat of silence as you’re both clearly uncomfortable in the strange situation you have suddenly found yourself in.

“How can I help you, Major?” You whisper politely as your eyes nervously, guiltily, dart around the room—anywhere but him. He looks sharp in his dress uniform. He smells nice. He clearly made an effort. And you’re standing here in your day-old hospital uniform. Self-consciously, you try to straighten the standard-issue white and brown stripe wrap-around dress. 

“I came looking for my favorite nurse,” Bucky replies sincerely, eyes boring into yours. 

“Then you must not be looking for me,” The words tumble out before you can stop yourself. Bucky nearly bursts out laughing at the pained look that crosses your face as you clamp your mouth shut. 

“I was waiting for you to show up at the dance,” He says with that same heavy sincerity. His stance is casual, hands in pockets and shoulders relaxed. But the way he fidgets — tapping and shuffling his foot — as he waits for you to reply hints that he is not nearly as calm as he’d like to appear.

“I had to stay,” You reply, still avoiding his gaze. It’s a half-truth. You could have said no. But the new girl seemed to want to go to the dance more badly than you did. It felt unfair. And you had convinced yourself quite thoroughly that Major Egan wouldn’t care or notice anyway.

Another silence falls. Neither quite sure where to go from here.

“How are the boys doing?” Bucky asks conversationally, reaching out to the large doors leading into the intensive care unit. On a whim, you grab his hand before he touches the handle, your fingers gently wrapping over the top of his large hand. He stills, and for a moment, you think he’ll shake your hand off his. But instead, he waits in acceptance.

“It won’t help you,” You whisper. It took you a while to figure out why Major Egan was in the hospital that night. When people spoke of him, they spoke of how much he cared for his men — a heavy burden to bear.

“Help me?” His voice is suddenly loud. He is offended at the notion that he’s doing it for himself and offended that you called him out like that. He opens his mouth again to argue with you.

Startled by the volume, your brain misfires fully, and instead of replying, your free hand reaches out to his face, your index finger landing on his soft lips to silence him. He stares at you wide-eyed. You are sure you look as shocked as he does. You try to gather your thoughts quickly.

“I - I understand,” You implore him in an urgent whisper, finally looking at him. Bucky sees his own sorrow reflected in your eyes. 

Sometimes, you can only wait. There is no next round of medicine; there is no operation that will help. Waiting for the body to do its work can be frustrating and maddeningly slow.

“But there is nothing you can do now, so going in won’t help you or them,” You swallow. Why is your finger still on his lips, and why is he letting you do that? “They need to rest. You need to rest.”

His fingers lace through yours as he steps closer. It’s inappropriate how close he is standing to you. It’s inappropriate how the tips of your fingers caress the seam of his lips. It’s inappropriate how your hand has latched onto his, his thumb drawing lazy circles on the pulse point of your wrist.

“I don’t need rest.” His voice is soft and close. The intimacy of his lips moving against your fingers is intense, each breath setting your nerve endings on fire. He leans into your touch, trailing from the corner of his mouth to his jaw. Finally, you look at him.

“Then what do you need?” Your question comes automatically. Always looking for how to help. Always so kind. He could melt into your soft touch, warm voice, and how you look at him so sweetly.

“I need to know when you’re done here so I can sweep you off your feet,” His eyes meet yours, keenly following your every move. 

You want to take a step back and break the increasingly feverish connection, away from his oddly earnest confession, but Bucky pulls you closer with a small tug on your hand. Your head is swimming; your heart is hammering in your chest. You shouldn’t entertain any of this, but it feels like your heart is pouring out of your mouth.

“My shift ends at 0500,” 

Bucky grins at you—not in a teasing way, but with that infectious broad smile—the one you cannot help but smile back. It gives you butterflies. You’re smiling at him now, beautifully, genuinely. It feels like a victory to Bucky.

“I’ll keep the party going if you promise me the last dance.” His voice is low and inviting; he is reeling you in further with every word.

“Don’t torture everyone on my account, please,” You feebly try to inject some levity into the situation. You know yourself well enough: you are no match for John Egan and his attentions. From sparks across the room, now it’s like you’ve touched the live wire, and the current has a hold on you. That’s why you always avoided him so.  

“Torture? Darling, it’s a party,” He needles you gently, eyes glinting merrily. “Only you would equate that to torture.” 

“Major -,” “Bucky,” He interjects. You blink at him, biting your lip. 

“Bucky, please,” The moment you utter his name, so beguilingly, so breathlessly, he presses your palm against his face fully, his hand covering yours. He needs you closer. The golden buttons of his jacket brush against the front of your dress. His lips press against the soft flesh of your hand as he studies your reaction. The hitch in your breath is embarrassingly loud to your ears. 

“Please, what?” 

“Don’t torment me like this,” It sounds even more pathetic when you say it out loud. And exactly as you’d expect, the admission of your weakness, the slightest chink in your armor, is an in for him. 

“How do I torment you, exactly?” His voice is so warm, so encouraging. 

“You take far too much pleasure in making fun of me, for one,” You try to play it off in a last-ditch attempt. But under his heated gaze, his breath brushing on the sensitive skin of your wrist, you falter. You frown before you utter in a small voice: “It’s not nice how you toy with me, Bucky, because it’s obvious that… that it’s just a joke to you, and your idea of a joke could get me dismissed, and sent home,”

You look down at your shoes, embarrassed. You want to pull away, but Bucky is not allowing you an inch of slack.

“It’s not a joke to me.” He sounds surprised. You look up at him, unable to keep the skepticism off your face. “It wasn’t a joke from that night I saw how calmly you handled that panicked patient, the moment you saluted me with those shaky fingers, and then every time you denied my help, you stubborn, stubborn girl,” His face is so close to yours now; a finger tracing down the side of your neck, down, just along the collar of your dress, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The way your hand rests on his cheek, you could pull him even closer if you wanted to. “I’ve wanted to grab hold of you, wrap you around me-”

Footsteps. You pull back from Bucky with a jerky movement, who mercifully releases you immediately, stumbling back two steps, almost hitting the desk with your legs. It’s strangely cold suddenly without his hands wrapped around yours, without him so close you could feel the warmth radiating off his body. Blood is rushing in your ears. Bucky looks too collected, but to your relief, you spy a faint blush creeping up his neck. 

So it wasn’t just you.

Hands folded, you take another furtive step back behind the desk, making sure there’s a respectable distance between you as the doctor on duty turns the corner. Bucky and the doctor start talking in low voices, but you are not listening. In your mind, you keep returning to his words, trying to put the puzzle pieces together. 

That night on the ward. That was the first time you spoke and saw each other in more than passing. That’s when Bucky suddenly formed this habit of popping in places he had no business of being. Places you happened to frequent. You really hadn’t been vain enough to consider that the common denominator in those situations was you. It had to be a coincidence that he had just turned into a joke. 

“Nurse,” The doctor turns to you, handing you his clipboard. You nearly jump out of your skin, being so lost in thought. “Please update the log,”

“Yes, doctor,” You nod, trying not to look as flustered as you feel. The men start leaving, still talking. 

“Good night, lieutenant,” Bucky turns to you, unable to keep the cocky smile off his face. Before he turns, he winks at you. It makes your knees so weak you nearly collapse back into your chair. Covering your face with your hands, you try to focus, but the smile won’t come off your face.

Seven more hours until your shift ends.

***

It’s a misty summer morning, dew covering every inch. The sun is just breaking through the clouds, and it’s promising to be a beautiful day.

When you leave the infirmary, you blink against the early morning sun. It’s still so early that few people are around. You hesitate. Surely, the party is not still going on. You wouldn’t put it past Bucky to actually do it. Rubbing your eyes and yawning, you’re unsure if you could even stay on your feet long enough for a dance.  

Luckily, you don’t have to make a choice. 

The sound of the bicycle bell makes you smile now. Bucky’s looking remarkably fresh and well-rested. The party clearly didn’t go that far into the night. He dressed for duty, his signature sheepskin jacket hanging open.

“Are you going my way, darling?” 

You purse your lips because you’re fighting to keep the smile off your tired face. You don’t stand a chance. You dart over to him like you are pulled by a magnetic force, the live current arching between you.

Sliding onto the back of the bike, you grab handfuls of the thick sheepskin to steady yourself, trying to find your equilibrium. Bucky’s large, warm hands encircle your wrists and easily pull your hands off his jacket. Instead, he gently nudges you forward by your arms, tucking them under the side of his jacket, wrapping your arms around his waist. The side of your face is resting against his back. You can feel his heartbeat under your palm, resting just under his sternum; you move along with his every breath.

“Ready?” Bucky peers over his shoulder. 

“Hm–mh,” You hum in reply, face buried in the folds of Bucky’s jacket. “Drop me off before the last turn?” You mumble, gazing up at him pleadingly. “Matron will be awake and on the prowl by now,”

“Don’t worry, darling,” His free hand wraps over yours, pressing a kiss on your knuckles. “I’m not going to get you into any trouble,”

“I’m holding you to that,” You yawn, wrapping yourself around him tighter. You’re going to make the most of this moment — the quiet morning, the soft sheepskin, the smell of Bucky’s aftershave. 

You drift in and out of sleep, even though the trip by bike is tortuously short. After almost twenty hours on shift, you should be allowed this comfort. Whining in protest as Bucky starts to unlatch your arms from him, you feel his chuckle as much as you hear it. 

You slide off the back of the bike, ignoring where the metal was jabbing into your backside on the bumpy road, and rub your eyes, trying to get rid of the haze in your vision. A small yelp escapes you as Bucky tugs you against him by the tie at the waist of your wraparound seersucker dress. The bike lays forgotten in the grass by the side of the road. All the tension and anticipation from last night are suddenly back — you feel wide awake again.

Bucky’s fingers are resting lightly against your waist like he is testing the waters, slowly, gently guiding you closer to him until you are inches away from him. Automatically, your hands sneak back up his jacket, running up his sides to the front of his chest. He is so warm against the crisp morning air. 

“Are you going to ask me for a kiss now?” It comes out almost naively as you look up at him. God, you hope he says yes.

“I promised not to get you into trouble,” He teases gently, grinning, inclining his face closer anyway, his lips just ghosting over the corner of your mouth. He is rewarded with a shuddering sigh from you — his grip on your waist tightens, prompting you to close the remaining distance between you. 

“This, of course, is perfectly innocent,” Only you could be looking at him with those big eyes, full of want, your curious fingers roaming over his chest, and still speak so earnestly. Bucky buries his face in the crook of your neck, shaking from laughter. You wrap yourself around him, head buzzing. It’s like you’re short-circuiting, sparks flying with every move, every breath. 

Bucky nips at the sensitive flesh of your neck, hoping to elicit more of those small sounds from you. If it weren’t for the quiet morning, remnants of mist dissolving in the first light, he would have missed the softest moan of his name that falls from your lips. He could do this all day. Just explore every move of your body against his, every way you can say his name, every touch that brings you closer to him. You move in effortless synchronicity with him, purely on instinct. 

“Then it’s trouble you want, darling?” Bucky murmurs, pressing kisses along your jaw.

“It’s only trouble if we get caught,” You reply breathlessly. 

His finger is under your chin, tilting your face up to him, and finally, Bucky’s lips find yours. For a second, it’s just that: his lips pressed softly, almost chastely, against yours. You push yourself up on your tiptoes to get more leverage, wrapping your arm around his neck. Your other hand stays pressed against his chest, fisting his shirt, feeling how his heartbeat speeds up as you open your mouth for him with a sigh. Bucky doesn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, cupping your face. His other hand is roaming boldly over your back, applying light pressure on your spine so you arch into him, skimming just over the curve of your behind, playfully tugging at the ribbon of your wraparound dress. He knows exactly what he is doing and how to get exactly what he wants from you, and you’re more than eager to please.

Your mouth starts to tentatively explore the column of his neck as he whispers your name longingly, encouraging your little adventure. When your lips touch a particularly sensitive spot right under his ear, Bucky hisses — you can feel his muscles clench. It’s exhilarating; he feels the sparks as much as you do. Bucky doesn’t allow you to bask in your small victory too long, greedily capturing your mouth with his again, wrapping you around him, tucking you against him. His soft touch turns feverish, grasping at your hip. You match in kind, nails grazing the nape of his neck, just along his hairline — anything to keep the tension, the current arching.

You can feel the sunshine on your skin and see it through closed eyes. Breathlessly, you pull away just a fraction — Bucky’s lips are still ghosting over yours. 

“What’s wrong, darling?” He asks so softly you’re unsure if you heard or felt the words against your lips.

“I have to go,” You mumble as you move to stand feet flat on the ground again. It’s like waking up from a dream. Time is getting away from you. You’re not ready to pull away from Bucky yet, wanting to stretch the moment out. You gently fix his collar, running your hands over his front once more, as much in an attempt to straighten out the wrinkles you left on his shirt as to feel him move under your palm again. When he steps away from you, you release a shuddering breath. You feel like you’ve just been hit by lighting. 

“I’ll come find you,” He winks at you, grinning. Bucky presses a kiss to your forehead, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture feels intimate, more personal, than you could have imagined.

It was everything you feared happening when you said yes to John Egan. It was everything you dreamed it to be. As you watch him leave, you know that you’ll have a damn hard time giving that up. 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

note: this was literally supposed to be a quick 2k words fun meet cute kind of thing, just a quick adventure Morty, but oh god I'm in too deep. forgive me for this detour from Of All The Stars in The Sky, but it was necessary, you understand.

[olomaya]

Get Pumped!

This started as just a simple solution to allow my Sims to work out without a TV, radio or gym equipment present but I’m a fitness nut so I knew I couldn’t stop there. I love working out and am always trying out new workouts or gyms like people try out food or clothes. It’s one of my favorite hobbies IRL so I was happy to try and make more exercise/fitness things for my athletic Sims.

This is the Exercise Mat I previewed a few weeks (months?) ago and I added a few more features like the ability to teach classes and also free weights (dumbbells and kettlebell).

Credit/Thanks: @aroundthesims for the free weights and kettlebell which are hers. I only recategorized them to Sports/Hobbies. Mats and board are EA. Animations by me, Mixamo and EA!

All the info and download link are after the jump, read through it all before downloading!

Exercise Mat:

Sims can do different floor and body weight exercises on the mat, which are skill gated:

Sit ups, squats: Level 2

Push ups, single-leg squats, bicycle crunches: Level 3

Burpees: Level 4

Sims can also stretch which has benefits if you do it before and/or after exercising. 

Stretching before: the Feeling Limber moodlet will prevent your Sim from getting fatigued so long as it is active

Stretching after: the Feeling Limber moodlet will remove soreness if you have it

If there is an instructor mat on the lot, you can assign the mat to the instructor mat so Sims will use it for classes

Instructor Mat: This mat lets Sims who have Athletic skill 5 or higher teach exercise classes. 

Assign Instructor - sets who the instructor will be for the mat

Schedule Class - self-explanatory; select a time a date to host a class

Start Class - if you don’t want to wait, you can start a class now. Instructors will wait 20 sim minutes (tunable) before starting the class to allow interested Sims to join.

Toggle Stereo - requires IP to work, adds a stereo to the instructor mat so you can play music during class

Free Weights:

You can lift dumbbells or kettlebells. That's pretty much it. These guys look super happy about it.

You only need one dumbbell. The other one is a prop which will be created once your Sim starts lifting.

Gym Board:

Check Scheduled Classes

Sign Up for Class (Note: you can't sign up for classes that have no spots available but you can still show up and try to get a spot if there's a no show)

Cancel Sign Up

Cancel Class

Gym Classes:

Instructors can hold Beginner, Intermediate or Advanced gym classes, the difference in difficulty affects the fat/muscle delta, fatigue level and athletic skill gain. The ability to hold different class levels is skill gated at Levels 5, 6 and 7 respectively.

If you schedule a class, the instructor and any Sims that sign up for the class will be pushed to the lot an hour before the class starts. Sims cannot join a class after it starts but if they leave before the class ends, they still get charged.

The cost per person is based on the class level and the instructor’s athletic skill. If you have NRaas Career and the Instructor is in the Trainer skill-based career, they will also earn extra money and the funds will go towards their career advancement.

If there are no spots available, you can still check what time the class is and get information on the class if you want to show up and see if a spot opens up.

If classes are hosted on a non-park community lot, like a gym, 25% of the class fees will go to the venue (the venue owner will receive this if it’s owned).

You can check and sign up for scheduled classes on the gym board object. Instructors can also cancel classes there.

There are two "rewards" available: Top Trainer and Gym Rat. Top Trainers are Sims that have taught at least 20 classes. After achieving that, their classes are worth more and they also keep a larger percentage of the cost per student. Gym Rats are Sims that have taken at least 10 classes after which they get a discount on any other classes afterwards.

Notes: 

My suggestion is to organize the class room like how I have in my photos with the mats horizontal facing the instructor. I'd also space them out more than I did as some of the exercises involve a lot of jumping/moving around but I have small lots so I have to squeeze in as much as I can! With this plus Twin's spin class and yoga mods, I'm going to need a bigger gym!!

The instructor will face whichever mat is first in the list of assigned mats so I would suggest assigning the front center mat first.

You can have multiple instructors/instructor mats on the same lot but an instructor can only be assigned to one mat.

Sims cannot take a class if they don't have more than $400 in their family funds. You can change this if you like but I don't want my broke inactives spending money on gym classes (we have gym at home!)

If Sims are not autonomously joining classes or using the mat, it’s probably because you have too many advertising objects on your lot that are competing with it. You can up the advertising for the mat but it’s already quite high so you just have to figure out how to balance it. The Join Class interaction does advertise fun and social in addition to the standard Athletic Game Object advertising so I would suggest upping that in order to get more attention from Sims.

The animation of Sims picking up/dropping the free weight is kind of wonky. I may try to fix it later.

There’s a collection file for all the objects but you will find all of them under Entertainment/Sporting Goods. Nothing is more expensive than 150 simoleons.

This is set for YA+ because a) some of the animations will sink for teens and b) they are always trying to do their fucking homework around each other while I'm holding classes and it drove me crazy. You can change the ITUN if you want teens to use it but you've been warned.

Future updates: I'm already thinking about using a similar system to create dance classes. Making an active Dancer career is something I’ve wanted for a while and I have a Sim that would be perfect to test it.

As always, if you run into any issues, let me know!

Download here | Alt: Simblr

What I originally wanted to name this mod 😭😭

[juuuulez]

thinking about carmy and his pilates princess

“how the fuck you movin’ like that?” he’ll grumble, legs flailing left and right in the air like a baby deer. the woman on the video continues through the motion, smooth and elegant.

you turn to look at him and can’t help but laugh. that gets you a disgruntled look in return from carmy, so you show him mercy, getting up from the floor to help him.

“is your back straight?” you ask, scooting in behind to hold his head up in your lap. he’s trying to do bicycle crunches, but it doesn’t look quite right.

he only gives you a low grunt, still struggling to balance his legs in the air and move them in time with the video. “it’s totally not.” you scold him, pinching his rib when you notice that he’s wiggling all over the mat. “and you’re ‘sposed to point your toes, too.”

“your woman is going too fast,” carmy decides to protest, laying his legs back down in defeat and looking up at you. “this isn’t a fuckin’ beginner class.”

“i never said it was a beginner class.” you tell him with a snort, leaning down to press a kiss to his nose before shimmying out from under him.

you lay back down on your own mat, grabbing the controller to rewind the youtube video a little. “we’ll still go on that run later, yeah?” you remind carmen.

the video starts and you’re back at it, following the instructor seamlessly all while wearing that little workout set. pink leggings and a matching top, clinging to your form like a second skin.

carmen moves to your side, kneeling right below you, completely blocking the tv. you begin to protest when he grabs your legs from the air, big hands wrapped around your ankles and manoeuvring your thighs to press to your chest. in this position, his crotch is pressed against your clothed ass, and his gym shorts certainly don’t hide anything.

“how ‘bout a different typ’a cardio?”

[milkteabinniechan]

tu es si belle - felix

pairing: bf! Felix x gn! reader ♡ commissions // m.list

context: just a romantic imagining of a Parisian vacation with your boyfriend. Fluffy fluff and love<3333

Crunch, crunch, crunch

You had no idea that French pastry would have such a flaky outside. Your fork pressed down to break off a piece, and the dollop of cream on top poured down deliciously in the open space that was left.

"How is it?" Felix sputtered, his mouth already full of an almond croissant he had ordered earlier.

You smiled fully to give your approval of the delicate Persian pastry. You glanced around at the outdoor cafe. Many patrons enjoying their espresso and talking in their native tongue. You focus to try to make out what they are saying, only a few words translate on your mind.

"I love.... shopping... tomorrow....with my mother I will...." Was all you could understand.

You turn your attention to Felix, who had centered all of his notice on you. Sunlight seemed to pour out from every inch of him. You basked in the light for a moment, letting your eyes closed as you listened to the je suis revenu dans le film of the music around you.

"Paris suits you," Felix whispered close to your neck, "You look so beautiful."

"Maybe we should just live here, then." You teased, taking another fork-full.of flaky pastry.

"Well, I have been looking at apartments." Felix gave you a sly smile, still enjoying his croissant.

You lean your back towards him and rest your head onto his shoulder. You let your mind swing and swirl with thoughts of old brick apartments and wrap-around balconies. You could almost hear the clink clink clink of your vintage typewriter you bought from a secondhand store down the road. Felix would come home and see you curled up by the open window, listening to the sounds of the city below you. Babies crying, children playing, bicycle bells rings up through the air.

You lifted your chin up to meet your eyes with Felix. You both knew that with his job and your family, you could never just leave for Paris. That life had weighed you both down heavy with responsibility. That leaving to live in a new country was magical, but not practical. This vacation had to end sometime. But for right now, you fantasized feverishly about the life you could have with the man you loved. And for right now, this is everything you ever needed; love, music, and a pastry.

taglist: @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @doohnut @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics

[zoropookie]

SWEET MELODY

☆ chapter four — gtfo watching madagascar (🎂)

You had high hopes for how this would go, at least.

Sitting in your car and mindlessly driving to the very house you spent a lot of your childhood in was daunting. The familiar road stretched ahead, winding through the streets on your journey like a thin ribbon of what you wanted to know well, but couldn't fully. You couldn't bring yourself to look on the sides of you just yet, not looking for any lack of preparation.

Your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white as you took a sharp breath in. You parked the car, and sat there in the daylight of the hour. Your eyes darkened, moving your head down as you slumped back in your seat. Your shoulders down, and your general disposition horrible.

You didn't want to look up, because it was just how you remembered it. And if you were able to remember that, then by that jurisdiction, there was a 95% chance that this was part of your life that you just dug up again.

You pictured it as clearly as it stood: a quaint, two-story home with the front porch that you had your first kiss on, adorned with hanging baskets of vibrant violets that were picked from the hanging nature of the home. Looking to be inviting, yet intimidating. Tree-lined streets with overgrown lawns, and kids bicycles scattered haphazardly on adjacent driveways, the scent of cut grass filling your sinuses. You found yourself in a both comforting and disconcerting mood.

You sat in your car, staring blankly at the dashboard with the glee you had from cleaning your shop wiped off your face. "You can do this," You exhaled. "You can do this."

The trees, thick with summer foliage and vines draped on the walls, casting dappled shadows on the seemingly new asphalt. You drove through that road for the first time today instead of walking, hoping in your head that the rapid beating of your heart would cease soon. The air was full with the smell of blooming nature.

Gathering your resolve that presented itself in small and opposing glass shards to you, you opened your car door and stepped out. The crunch of gravel on your feet as you hurriedly took the gift of well prepared strawberry pies made small enough to be bite-sized. The sun blazed on you promptly, but nothing could take the chills on your skin.

You walked up the path, the looming front door with its always new paint that seemed to never chip under Ei’s rule was waiting for you. Your eyebrows furrowed in total dread, you bated your breath only for exactly who you figured to open the door once you rang the doorbell.

“(Y/N).” Ei stood there beautifully, but it was still surreal seeing her look the exact same as she did years ago. Her warm, welcoming smile and her eyes twinkling, except this time, it was of nostalgic wonder. “Did you find it okay? I did a lot more work from when you were here last.”

“Yeah, no! It looks…” Your eyes wandered, trying to find the right words to say before giving up. “It looks amazing, Miss Ei. No wonder why I used to really like playing royalty here.”

Ei stepped back promptly. “Come in. You can set your treats on the table.”

“Thank you,” You greeted her politely, walking into the home with the familiar and faint scent of lavender and old wood corrupting your nose. You knew the years have gone by, justice how it hardly looks the same from when you were a kid.

“You’ll find a lot of old items in different places now, my apologies. A lot of my appliances needed updating, so the kitchen is quite different now.” She explained from the main hall, setting up comfortable pillows for you to sit.

“This is really lovely…everything’s exactly in your style.” You marveled to yourself, before snapping out of it and setting the treats on the counter. “I’m sorry, Miss Ei. I didn’t mean to wander.” You laughed nervously.

“My home is your home, to this day.” She still presented you the same adoring smile she did as you sat down. “Yae won’t be here for another hour. In the meantime, I suppose we should discuss what you’re comfortable doing at my wedding.”

You sighed in relief. “Oh, Miss Ei. I actually did come here as well to see if you could pull some strings for me too regarding that, but it looks like you were ten steps ahead of me!” You laughed, always seemingly nervous. “I just didn’t want to betray your wishes…you mean a lot to me.”

“As do you, which leads me to believe that…” Ei sighed to herself promptly. “I did get a little carried away in your honor. Being so excited seeing you and reliving what I once knew felt euphoric. But as it turns out…I’m doubtful things are able to be that way at all.”

“I don’t think that’s true, to be at your side at all is a really amazing request considering the circumstances!” You smiled. “Please don’t worry about the outcome, you should feel the most relaxed at your own wedding, okay?”

You tried to ignore the heavy weight crushing you.

The former shook her head. “It is not that I am worried about,” She paused, her tone a bit more sullen than what was normal. “By chance on that day he went to your home, did he say anything he shouldn’t have?”

You blinked, and as soon as you realized what she asked, you stopped moving. Instead of feeling like your limbs were attempting to make up for the lack of brain space you had, you felt like you were struggling to stay afloat. “Uh,” You stammered, feeling your body tremble. “I’m sorry,” You replied carefully before your voice dropped to a low murmur, “Don’t really remember a lot…I don’t think he did, though.”

“Is it truly that?” Ei’s expression softened, but there was something else that you couldn’t quite place before— she looked concerned, perhaps, maybe regret. “It’s very important that you’re honest to me.”

You were unease, but not because of her. There was something you weren’t letting yourself remember, and instead of mulling on it, you forced a smile for Ei. “Everything is okay with me, I promise, Miss Ei. The last thing I want is to burden you both…I plan to make your wedding perfect.”

The mothers nodded slowly, but her eyes lingered on you, as if looking for something else that your face betrayed of you. “I understand,” she replied softly, before sighing with a melancholy undertone. “You are a very selfless person, there is nothing to pinpoint about you that would make you a bad person. It’s unfair how life treats the wise, isn’t it?”

Before you were about to respond, the sound of the front door opening drew the attention of the two of you. You turned, and immediately everything that you ever said was forgotten the minute that the outstanding and intimidating presence of Ei’s very son, Kunikuzushi, was standing there with his suitcase. His presence ever commanding and rough.

“Fuck are they doing here?” He asked, as if you were a speck of dust he had no trouble in not paying mind to.

“They are here to help me plan my wedding. One that you have no interest in helping me in, so I’d suggest you keep your snide comments to yourself.” Ei’s tone was direct, almost like a warning shot to him. She stared at him with much more intensity than she ever would you.

“You have no business inviting non-family to your little event, you’re just interested in pissing me off.” His words dug into you like it was a knife plunging into your core. “I mean, what can they even offer you that isn’t equivalent to a fart in the wind?”

“They are family. It is my wedding, Kunikuzushi, and I may do what I please. I may invite who I please, and if you don’t like who I invite, you are happy to do clean up. Less chances of you ever having to see who you don’t want there, is it?”

“Family to who, a dead mom and probably an even deader brother?” He couldn’t help but chortle, before the sheer velocity of a slipper Ei strikes against the center of his nasion, groaning in pain as he stood there for a long time recovering.

“Go,” Ei’s voice was louder. “I had my doubts that you’d actually be civil, but this is ridiculous. It’d be in your best interest not to come out until the both of us are gone.”

Your heart burned in your chest, a fire that wasn’t to be put out. With each silent and shallow breath you took, the harder it was to grasp. Especially when his piercing eyes took a gander at you, before sizing you up quietly. You refused to look him in the eye, narrowing them down.

He could only scoff and wince from how much pain shot through his face, a small and aggravating smile appeared on his lips. His attention turned back to Ei, “Didn’t know you were interested in inviting the circus to your wedding. I would have brought better farm animals, if that were the case.”

“I’m not interested in your suggestions, you have severely agitated me. Go unpack, and leave us to our conversation.” Ei spat. “You should not even be back right now, it is hours before sunset.”

Your eyes never rang that much, the universe around you blurring and fading as the intense and high-pitched sound began dominating every sense you had. It had you feel like you were submerged in a deep and murky water, a muffled and distant echo of their conversation playing out.

Heartbeat echoing in your ears, a counterpoint to the endlessness of your own ears failing you. You squeezed your eyes in pain, finding solace in at least the darkness, your head wandering with thoughts that you didn't think you'd ever have. Vision wavering, the edges of your sight blurred as the ringing became even more insistent. Your own body was failing you.

Safe to say, you couldn't do this.

previous ☆ masterlist ☆ next

THERE ARE not many things that can sway your interest ever since the "incident", but in spite of that, you pushed forward. you are now the owner of the biggest bakery chain in your city, consistently seeing couples and catering to them as such. you've been a big host at weddings, events for celebrities, and even a big support for your friends and family. you've even earned yourself a niche following as well by how sweet you are to everybody around you. but, even with your kindness, you don't have a particular spark that keeps you going anymore these days. that is until one of your employees starts suggesting you write love letters to customers who request your services. at first you thought it was a horrible idea that could easily turn into trouble, but that was until you were tasked with writing one to your own (very very famous) ex-boyfriend.

taglist ☆ — @seternic @chemiru @coquettemaiden @1kio0o @emiixuu

@agaygothicmushroom @yomishen @jingyuan-wife-real @toruscorpse @whoooismkeee

@sketcheeee @st4r4ngel @xionri @scaradooche @lightyagamifan

@pwushizz @alatusorrow @eutopiastar @magica-ren @slu7

@vaxmpi @theyluvkatt @kyon-cherri @suzydarling @mimi3lover

@auroratumbles @vxcmx @yourfavoritefreakyhan @kunimylovee

@czerwka @little-honey-the-third @featuredtofu @simonisferal @justpeachyteastea

@liuaneee @skyoverkill1 @mellowberrie @lalalaloveallmydays @mostlymoth

@mtndewbajablasted @vernith @lovekeychains @danhenglovebot @elizshade

@balladeersflower @kazumiku @bananasquash @neversore @yevurin

@franaby @vicslz @kamiboo @thegalaxyisunfolding @morgyyyyyyy