#SOUP I LIKED THIS A LOT! THANK U

[welcometoteyvat]

@apologems asked for wanderer & furina (among others) for the random characters prompt. I was gonna post all the pairs in your ask together but I love instant validation so they're getting split up lol. here, have too many words. feedback deeply appreciated!! <3

———

Furina opens her eyes to blank, vast emptiness. The cream tiled floor of the Palais Mermonia stretches on and on beneath her, the white-veined marble mirror smooth. It reflects the dismal cloudiness outside—if there even is an “outside” in this strange space. She wonders idly whether she could ask Neuvillette to cheer up a bit, to make the dreary grayness go away, or whether he would even listen to her requests like he used to. Rain seems likely.

She supposes she should walk around and find a way out of this place, even though it doesn’t seem very urgent. Nobody needs her to take care of anything now—they won’t be waiting for her return. Her footsteps echo against the marble—one, two, three—one, two, three. Is it possible to dance a waltz with just herself and the empty silence? Oh, but there’s someone a ways away, over there. Maybe they could dance with her, and it won’t be as lonely.

The figure in the distance is dressed all in blue, wearing a wide brimmed hat with strips of fabric dangling from the edge. They turn when she comes close, and their eyes meet; it’s a young man, with red eyeshadow, a bored glare, and puffy cheeks on a pretty face. It’s rather striking how he looks so sharp yet soft, swooping curves and hard angles, all at once.

“So, whose funeral is this?”

“What? Where?” A funeral? But she didn’t see a coffin…

“The dead body’s right there. Are you walking around with your eyes closed?” He sneers, and gestures carelessly to the bare floor in front of her.

“There’s… nothing there.” That catches the hat-guy off-kilter. He narrows his eyes, and his gaze is like a quick knife.

“Don’t play dumb, idiot. It’s quite obviously you, isn’t it? Look at that white vest and suit.”

“I—what?” There’s really nothing there. She’s definitely alive, too—no dead double in sight. But—what is he saying about a white vest? Unless… this is one of those fantasy children’s novels where everything is just a rabbit-hole dream? Just in case, Furina blinks a couple times. She opens her eyes, and—huh?!

“Same stupid rooster-frill tailcoat, small blue top hat, frivolous accessories, mascara eyelashes; the only thing different is the long jellyfish h—”

“Wait! I can see someone, but it’s not me. It’s a child, wearing all white with a purple veil.”

And she expects him to scoff again, because maybe she really is seeing things, maybe her acting has gone a little too far, but instead, Hat-guy blanches. He throws her another sharp, piercing glance, seems to find nothing—and then—and then, a terribly familiar smile creeps onto his face. The sight of it makes her bones ache and her eyes fill with inexplicable tears.

“Well, if that’s what you see, I suppose this is a funeral for both of us. Hah, how curious.” His voice has turned into sandpaper and tea's bitter dregs, scratchy with loathing and cynicism and absurdity. Now he's turning towards her, and in his fierce gaze she sees... her old self, lying there on the cold not-Palais floor. Her eyes stare unseeingly at nothing, and that horrible, wretched smile is frozen on her lips. Furina flinches. She wants to throw up, to pluck out her eyes, to claw at her face until it bleeds. She looks away instead. She knows that Hat-guy is watching her and is grateful he doesn't comment, and when she finally meets his eyes again, she is grateful too that his face is carefully blank. He simply offers Furina his hand and says, “Shall I do the honors?”

She nods, and takes his hand.

A fire blazes up immediately, engulfing the dead child and his purple veil. Furina watches as its clothes disappear in licks of flame, as its doll joints are exposed, then stripped away, until nothing remains besides a pile of ash, and a small, blackened kernel that might have once been a heart. She wonders what Hat-guy saw—a little Oceanid, evaporating into nothingness at the final curtain call? Perhaps it doesn’t matter. It’s past now, regardless.

Furina doesn’t know when it starts to rain. The last embers have long since blackened when she realizes that the downpour is soaking her clothes, running down her cheeks. Water drips from the edge of Hat-guy’s hat, dampening his knee-high socks. Yet he makes no move to leave, so neither does she.

They continue to stand there, long after their clothes are soaked all the way through. Two false gods, drenched, alone.

———

a/n: idk whether I handled their emotional states correctly please give feedback if ooc. this entire thing is just "it's about THE NARRATIVE PARALLELS" and i dont even know whether it's the interp I wanted. extra ending thoughts include this wouldn't happen in canon bc i think wanderer is already at a place where he's partly fixed. maybe emotional closure. idk idk. people who think more about furina and scara should give me your theses on them. and of course, if you're wondering What Even Happened In This Fic, don't worry, so am I. didn't stick the ending but that's ok

also on ao3 ig

[ranboo5]

Anyway [stretches] under a cut because it got Long as usual; tl;dr at the bottom

The thing abt c!Ranboo is his motivation and his actions don’t always align and that is bc of the eternal nature of c!Ranboo as living in a society and Balancing Priorities. He is always self-compromising in its relationships w/ others; more often than not when it agrees to do smth with someone it is doing it not bc it believes in the cause but because it has priorities it needs to mitigate. (Ranboo has not believed in any of the causes put forth by Someone Else in their life the closest they get is the Syndicate and even there it’s only reassured to bc it is reassured it can share opinions)

This starts off wayyyy early with it agreeing to help grief despite not really having a personal reason to do it, and with it collaborating w/ New L’Manberg even through things like the Butcher Army. It consistently does not want to be seen as In Opposition. It works with Tmmy and Techno in large part bc it doesn’t want to come off as opposed 2 them, and bc it has personal investment (+guilt) in Tmmy. Ranboo will literally act like this

- as self preservation - out of a desire to help+spare the feelings of ppl it doesn’t trust to negotiate with - especially later, so it can try to mitigate the parties it’s collaborating w/ -- if he’s involved in the effort, he has more traction 2 attempt to mitigate anything terrible it might do (even when most of the time he doesn’t manage to do this)

This is part of why he initially joined th Syndicate and this is why he worked with Wilbur over th course of the burger arc. Some combination of this is also why he works w/ Dream, smth that is frequently overlooked in Ranboo Analysis; Ranboo volitionally[1] collaborates w/ Dream despite, obviously, having a lot of Active Dislike for Dream and what he is doing, out of a combination of a) he would not want 2 frame himself as Opposed To Dream in any interaction w/ Dream, b) he is generally sympathetic and pitying, c) ideological agreement w/ some aspects of Dream’s goals, and d) desire to mitigate/stay close to Dream. Ranboo keeps his friends close and enemies closer 2 some degree

His relationship w/ Tbbo is not an exception to this it is part of the pattern. It’s just one that has much more present, personal, and consistent stakes. Ranboo complies w/ Tbbo the same way he complies w/ the Syndicate when he’s worried they’re threatening, the same way he complies w/ NLM, the same way he complies w/ Wilbur in the burger arc, th same way he complies with Tmmy early on, the same way he complies w/ Dream offscreen. This is a Known Tactic Ranboo pursues; their project is ultimately of survival and compassion and survival and compassion are both things they have to sacrifice to keep

Tbbo is a unique priority to Ranboo almost in the same way all of the aforementioned r slightly different, unique priorities; in Tubbo’s case, Ranboo is extremely invested in keeping Tbbo safe from others and from Tbbo’s own self with a particular fervor for a very long time. I’m not rehashing the entire beeduo meta here but Ranboo does have particular interest and a particular prioritization for Tbbo for a long ass time; arguably post-NLM and thru burger arc, Tbbo is its first priority bc Ranboo loves him and has convinced itself it’s the only one who can fix him and has also mostly-correctly observed that no one has really been looking out for him. Tubbo is an urgent target in Ranboo’s projects of compassion and of survival both

When those stakes r released, tho, in the burger van conversation (the “you weren’t happy before?”) Ranboo no longer has Tbbo at the same priority level irt the project of survival especially, and, despite how guilty and upset it makes them, prioritizes their 5D chess game with Wilbur instead (ironically sacrificing a solid chunk of its project of survival). Its motives @ the end of Ho16 r commonly cited as being abt Tbbo but that’s not entirely what he says and if it was Ranboo HAS the kind of analytical presence of mind to know that it Killing Himself doesn’t help Tbbo as much as it deals with Wilbur

Ho16 is abt Ranboo winning aforesaid 5D chess game; Tbbo is only part of the stakes 4 that and Mitigating Tbbo is no longer Ranboo’s top priority w/ that. Ranboo’s final monologue is more than anything reminiscent of his earlier arguments about sides and collateral. It’s part of the larger project of compassion, and it’s about the distorted version thereof tht comes with Ranboo getting stuck in its head and its machinations, too; like Tbbo is important to Ranboo and the carelessness abt Tbbo is something unacceptable but to claim Ranboo’s motivations revolve around Tubbo specifically is reductive of his other relationships and actual larger ideological motivations 

I have a problem w/ framings of this as positive/romantic devotion that amkes Ranboo better or as devotion at all bc repeatedly it is shown it makes him Worse, and is in fact the opposite of devotion it's disingenuous by nature. Ranboo is lying. This is so essential to all of this when Ranboo acts like he is in step with you specifically he is lying you are never guaranteed to be the priority. This is him at his worst, th project of compassion at its most compromised, and it’s a state that they explicitly don’t like. Ranboo does not like compromising itself and when they do that they Get Hurt (NLM and outpost arc having the most confabulation we’ve seen in Ranboo in general, Ranboo hating himself for this, Ranboo complying w/ shit like the experiments, Ranboo in all these environments where he is playing this being Constantly Markedly Afraid)

Even throughout the time period where Tbbo is technically priority #1 Tbbo is still . Priority Number One as opposed to like a genuine devotion. Tbbo having a handle on Ranboo in this way is not devotion it is fear and it is again not a mechanism tht Ranboo Only engages for Tbbo it’s just a mechanism, that again IS BAD FOR RANBOO BOTH IRT MENTAL HEALTH AND MORALITY, that has thru circumstance become one tht Tbbo is best at unintentionally activating. Ranboo Does This When You Are His Project. And When He Had A New Project Aside From His Husband That’s What He Did To Him

TL;DR

Ranboo does comply with Tubbo in various activities tht he doesn’t believe in but this isn’t ? Unique to Tbbo this is just Ranboo’s general socialmeta+ what allows it to move in the world the way it does

Ranboo cares about Tubbo deeply and this is relevant to his motivations but that’s only one part of his larger motivations

It’s also honestly not great to frame this complianceas romantic or good bc it’s actively smth that Makes Them Worse in multiple senses

It takes out a ton of Ranboo’s decision making and the negative effects thereof

Anyway stream

[1] No, one dumb as fuck line from Dream Of All People in that lame ass excuse for a finale does not negate All The Things In CRanboo’s Story including working w Dream being part of this consistent pattern, Ranboo’s story being abt agency responsibility and decision in such a way tht it is completely undercut by mind ctrl plots, Ranboo’s ideological agreement w Dream on some matters, the alliumduo parallels, and everything we do know abt the enderwalk as a concept and Ranboo how he acts in and out of it

[charrfie]

Seeing people with cat soup pfps like my elle post. Do you guys know you are the target audience

[iloveyoumorethansoup]

I do think one of my favorite parts about work is having people who I can be like omg you would Not believe what is happening rn in my life to and they’re like oh my god really??

[onlyswan]

summary: in which you want to turn back the clock and jungkook wants you to stay.

idol!jungkook x reader, est. relationship / angst, fluff / word count: 5.8k

content/warnings: mistreatment of service workers / oc felt inappropriately touched by a customer (only mentioned in passing) / (oc works part-time in a restaurant) (then quits) / another dive into oc’s lore / allusion to death / grief grief grief / lots of crying :( / jk wants to move in together :") / mention of s*x (24/7=heaven?) / mention of period blood (they’re in diff contexts js to be clear lol) / u will get pissed and cry and laugh it’s fun <3

playlist! knees - iu ; chinese satellite - phoebe bridgers ; love wins all - iu

> in which masterlist

note: contains lil flashblacks from the giving up drabbles ^^ can be found in the timeline masterlist above this incase u haven’t read them and want to ^^ listen to love wins all when jungkook tells oc to wear their seatbelt (trust me). tried to encapsulate the epiphany of oh. everything’s going to be okay because i am loved when i’m at my lowest. as always reblogs & feedback are appreciated :") come chat!!

—

the rusty swing-set creaks as you unsteadily swing back and forth, staring lifelessly at your white socks and shoes stained with burnt orange. you look up to the sky but the moon and the stars are shrouded by the clouds. not even your favorite snack can poison your sadness with optimism. mouthful of bungeoppang, but you taste nothing, and every swallow only adds to the heaviness weighing on your chest.

your shift should be ending by now, which means you probably should be heading home, but your limbs have given up and refuses to move.

jungkook’s special ringtone ceaselessly disrupts the night scene’s quiet, but there’s no point in answering his calls when you know no words would come out of you.

“are you an imbecile?! you can’t understand basic instructions?!”

“ma’am, i’m so sorry. i’ll take it back and give you the right ord-”

“we’re fucking starving! move faster!”

you flinch as the bowl collides with the tiled floor, producing an ear-splitting sound that reverberates throughout the entire restaurant. you want to give the woman the benefit of the doubt and believe that she just shoved the bowl a little too harshly due to her frustration, but you have a hand over your mouth not due to shock, but the inexplicable pain of having your skin burnt by the piping hot soup… and she’s just… there.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry! please understand. she’s just in a bad mood. she’s not- she’s not usually like this.”

you stand on your spot, frozen and speechless, as her husband profusely apologizes. you’re only jolted out from trance when you feel him wiping your legs with crumpled tissue papers, a little too farther up for your comfort. a fleeting tug-of-war ensues when you forcefully rip them away from his hands. you thank him despite not meaning it.

you grip the edge of your skirt as you sit on your heels, picking up the broken shards of glass scattered across the floor. a concerned co-worker swoops in with a broom and you instantly jump the opportunity to save yourself from the mortifying stares, mumbling another thank you as you take your leave.

“you said table six.”

“____, i’m sorry. that was a fault on my part.”

your manager observes your current state. his stare lingers at your feet.

“but they don’t know that! she literally burnt me!”

“look, we don’t have to take this too far. it couldn’t have been that hot. we can see you’re still walking.” his condescending tone makes you feel so small, but it fuels the anger inside of you. “you don’t have to pay for the damages, so let’s just put this behind us.”

you gasp in disbelief, and it borders on a laugh. you feel crazy. you can’t believe this is actually happening to you. he can’t be fucking serious.

the workers in the kitchen remain quiet as tension arises, minds a tornado of thoughts but mouths remaining shut in fear of getting on the bad side of their superior.

“well you…” you hastily strip off your apron, bunching it up into one big ball. “don’t have to pay me anymore, because i fucking quit! i hope this place burns down!”

and you ensure that it hits him on the face before you turn around to march out of the kitchen. on the way out of the restaurant, you nonchalantly grab a bottle of water from the fridge, twisting off the cap as you push the door open. you leave a wet trail behind your steps as you pour the cold water over your feet, a poor attempt to soothe the sharp pain of the injury.

you know it will be alright eventually; you will heal, but this… this is leaving a permanent scar on your dignity.

with a vexed groan, you retrieve your vibrating phone from your pocket.

LAST EVICTION NOTICE— you do not even bother reading the rest of the words that come after that.

“fuck!” you scream, throwing the bottle at the nearest wall, hands coming up to your hair to roughly pull in frustration. the heels of your palm dig into your eyes and your knees give way to the ground. “this is a nightmare.”

it dawns on you that you’ve finally arrived at a surface on the rock bottom that you so awfully dread. you find yourself standing here— infront of the atm machine, staring blankly at the large number displayed on the screen. this money isn’t yours. this didn’t come from your blood, sweat, and tears. it’s an amount that you’re supposed to accept as a payment for the eulogies you had to deliver. you swore you would never do this, but desperate times come when you’re forced to swallow your pride and allow it to rot you from the inside.

you’re once again faced with the ugly difference between surviving and living.

you grab the cash, hastily pushing them inside the pocket of your jacket as if you’re being burnt by them. you feel so nauseous; if only emptying your stomach would untangle its knots.

you don’t need anything from anyone. this is the first and the last time, you swear to yourself in place of your defeated oath.

you don’t want jungkook to see you like this, helpless and hollow, the antonym of the sun he willingly flew too close to. you look pathetic seeking for solace in an abandoned playground, unfortunate soul stuck at fifteen, in denial of the passage of time.

but there goes your lover running towards you, calling out your name, and you begin praying for yourself to disappear into thin air.

much to your disappointment, no wiser being grants your plea, and now you have a man tucking you in his safe embrace, uncaring of his knees being bruised by the ground.

does he need to surprise you when you least anticipate his presence?

“i’ve been looking everywhere for you! i went to pick you up at the restaurant but they told me that you quit! what happened?”

he pulls away, tenderly cupping your cheeks in his warm hands.

“was it your boss again? it’s him, isn’t it? what did he do?”

jungkook dies a little inside. your glassy eyes study his face, a clear picture of distress and concern, but at the same time, they seem so far away… like you’re not certain if you’re truly here.

you unconsciously squirm— your feet retract themselves, escaping underneath the swing; and your ankles twist, and twist, one hiding behind the other.

this doesn’t feel like being stripped naked.

you feel like you’re being turned inside out.

“what’s wrong? baby…” he utters sadly as tears drip from your lashes—one by one— even they are lost and hesitant.

your distant stare remains.

he doesn’t know if you’re even aware that you’re crying. it’s a frightening sight and he doesn’t know what else to do. he holds you in his arms but you feel too stiff for this to be comfortable. the time passes, and he lets it do so in silence.

he waits for you to come back to him.

he waits, and waits, and waits.

“jungkook… i want to go home.”

“okay. i’ll bring you home, baby.” he strokes your hair, breathing out in relief. “yours? or mine?”

only for his world to crumble into pieces.

“my mom…” you whisper, breathless, releasing yourself from his embrace. “i want to be with my mom.”

and only then does he see traces of emotions written on your face.

“i miss my mom so much.”

the crack of your voice gives him an opening to catch a glimpse of your heart, that is but a mosaic of broken parts. pain, grief, longing… the past two years haven’t been enough to make him well-acquainted with the anatomy of your afflictions. he has only witnessed you speak of your family with a proud and affectionate beam; old stories that spark the agent of joy. and despite knowing that you must’ve been battling your pain all these years all alone, he couldn’t bring himself to meddle with how you handled your grief. however, if he’s going to be completely truthful, he was terrified of this— of seeing you so unmoored and broken. his pain is no comparison. quite frankly, it is an insult to yours.

“i miss her so, so, so much. what do i do? i…” you sobs become uncontrollable, overcome by the weight of the world crashing down on you.

how is it possible that you feel nothing and too much at the same time? is what you would often ask before, but today you realize that your pain simply goes beyond what any of your human parts is able to fathom.

“this is too hard… it’s too tiring. i can’t- i can’t. i don’t want to be here anymore. i’m always so scared. i don’t know what i’m doing anym-”

“shh, shhh, baby- baby, breathe for me-”

“how did my life end up like this? i don’t understand! the world- it’s so cruel- i can’t stand it.”

jungkook wipes away your tears, but it’s no use. once you break down, it becomes impossible to remedy. nonetheless, that doesn’t deter your boyfriend from trying. he gathers your weeping and trembling vessel in an attempt to glue you back together, and in while doing so, he also wills himself to be strong for you.

“why did she have to go after them and leave me all alone here? am i not her child too?”

the obtuse questions you’ve been too afraid to ask out loud are being brought out in the open, spilling out from the torn seams of your soul as they’ve become too agonizing to annihilate over and over and over again.

you know the answer. you know she didn’t want to leave.

but you can’t help but to be angry at the fact that her heart gave up. you don’t understand why it had to happen and why you’re being grinded in the mouth of the world.

“i’m tired, i’m so tired. it’s so unfair… i need her with me too…”

jungkook squeezes his eyes shut, gently rocking your tangled bodies — a defense mechanism. you’re succumbing to defeat as if it’s been long overdue; even your voice is giving up on you.

if he had to imagine, the earth must have shared his current dread when it witnessed a solar eclipse for the first time, wired to assume the worst of perpetual darkness.

“jungkook…”

your weak fists desperately grasping at the fabric of his hoodie— the final thread you are hanging on. your words break into stutters and hiccups, salty tears slipping past your lips and stirring their bitter taste.

“i just want to go and be my mom’s child again.”

and he would truly fucking hate to try and get into the implication of your words, but if jungkook is going to be completely truthful— he is terrified beyond words can say. of this; of witnessing you slip away from everything you’ve ever known; of losing you. maybe he’s being selfish, but whatever it takes, he will make you stay.

he swallows the lump in his throat, hurriedly drying his eyes with his sleeve before facing you.

“listen to me, okay…?” his voice isn’t enough to pull your head from underwater; he lightly taps your cheek, even though it breaks his heart. “hey, hey, hey. look at me, baby- look at me.”

he searches for your eyes, begging them to focus on him. and it’s silly, what he does next, pressing a kiss to your lips as if this is a fairytale. but then it works— you tilt your head to subtly nuzzle your cheek against his palm— and he has to quickly recover from being taken aback. you effortlessly make a slave out of his heart.

“you never stopped being her child. and that will never happen! because even with them being gone, you haven’t stopped trying your best to be a good child and older sibling to them. i… i’m a witness to that. every single day. are you hearing me?”

can he get some sort of sign whether he is doing this right or wrong?

“you’re not alone here because you have me. you do know that, right?”

and you want to believe him… you do. but just like how you’re clinging onto him right now for dear life, you can’t forget how you had to beg him to stay.

“so stop working all these jobs! please, i’m begging you! it must also break your mom’s heart to see you torturing yourself like this. it’s not healthy! just focus on studying and let me take away your burdens, please?”

you stop breathing; your features soften like you’ve made it out of a nightmare.

“jungkook…”

“let’s live together, baby.” he sounds sure; he sounds steady, but the waver of his eyes beseeches you. “you’ve been so good to me, even when i didn’t deserve it. please… let me love you in my own way too.”

“stop. i told you… i’m still thinking about it.” you say meekly, avoiding his intense gaze. “i mean, let’s be honest. what would your family even think of me? your aunt already hates me. what if she uses this to prove that she was right about me and-”

“fuck what everyone else thinks. i couldn’t care less.”

the reminder of the disrespect you were subjected to because of him has him seething all over again. his jaw clenches in anger, and he feels obligated to take a deep breath so he can keep himself composed. growing up, he was always taught to be the bigger person, but he simply can’t implore himself to do that if it means turning a blind eye to your hurt.

“i won’t let her get away with that type of bullshit so don’t even bother thinking about her anymore. i’ll take care of it. we can’t let that get into our heads. right, baby? we said that?” his thumb caresses your cheek softly, and you hold on to his wrist, silent as you try to understand him through the thick haze clouding your mind. “i want to be with the person i love. how could that be so wrong?”

you slowly shake your head in response, a little hesitant.

“i won’t leave again. no matter how hard you push me away, i will stay within your reach.”

and here he is, kneeling infront of you, seeking to make true of what he solemnly vowed to you.

are you going to take this away from him? after everything you’ve gone through together?

he is the only thing you have left to lose.

“i love you.” you whisper, initiating the hug this time.

you’re holding him tight, like you don’t ever want to let go, and it brings jungkook to the brink of tears once more.

“i love you so much.”

he sweetly kisses your cheek, but when you pull away to give him that look, a wordless command for more, his lips finally meet yours for the first time in forty-eight hours. they slowly curve into a smile, not at all surprised that he’s tasting sugar. he’d go through hell and back to experience this kind of kiss one time, only to do it all over again.

“let’s go home?”

you blink at him cluelessly. you don’t know why he’s wearing a dimpled smile out of the blue, neither do you know which home he is referring to. nevertheless, you intertwine your fingers with his, choosing to save yourself from this forlorn neverland.

there’s just… one teeny… tiny problem…

“shit,” you mutter to yourself, freezing on your tracks.

“what’s wrong?”

you awkwardly glance down at your shoes, the origin of the squeaky sound that was impossible to be missed by your ears. after inspecting you from head to toe, a worried expression morphs on his face, and you can only show him a shy wince in response.

“i don’t want to make your car dirty.”

“baby…”

his chest feels so much heavier. he is nearly blinded with red. he wants to scream and be infuriated. what the fuck happened back there?

you merely shrug, sending him a forced smile. “do you still have those extra slippers?”

—

“jungkook, i can do it myself.”

he clicks his tongue, his hand around your calf gripping. “stay still!”

you watch him from the passenger seat, your legs dangling from the edge as he carefully takes off your shoes and socks, yet again kneeling on the ground.

“does it hurt a lot?”

“not… a lot.” you answer through gritted teeth.

perhaps the stinging never did quell; it was just pushed to the back of your mind when more painful things surfaced succeeding it.

“who did this to you, huh? i need to go back there and make them pay! what kind of decent human being would do that?!”

“a miserable woman in a miserable marriage.”

in her eyes, you may be naive and she, the decades old wiser— but who is the one with a lover who would wash not their dirty hands, but their feet that have walked a million miles?

“i feel bad for her.” you comment absentmindedly.

you’re too far deep in awe watching jungkook gingerly clean your bare feet with his hands and a bottle of cool water, doing what you were meant to do earlier, if only granted that you weren’t erupting with rage.

“____, you’re too nice.”

“you’re too nice.” you argue. “also, those shoes are hopeless. just throw them away.”

he glances at you with fondness, shaking his head as he softly pats you dry with a clean towel. you stifle a gasp. it’s no longer as bad as before, but your skin still feels warm and raw. this wasn’t in the job description. you decide that you can practice empathy, as well as your strong belief in karma, at the same time. at this moment, you hope that the universe is already crafting tricks up its sleeve, because you’re in a world of fucking pain.

“there you go. wait until we get off the car before you wear the slippers, alright? and you’re not allowed to wear tight shoes.”

he rises to his feet, not wasting the opportunity to steal a kiss.

“yeah, it was wildly uncomfortable.” you mumble against his lips, tugging at his collar to properly respond to his display of affection. “thank you.”

“wear your seatbelt.” his eyes shines with a glint of with uncontainable excitement. “we’re going home.”

—

you stir as jungkook gently shakes your body awake, his muffled voice gradually becoming clearer as you gain your consciousness.

“wake up, baby. we’re here.”

you tiredly rub off the sleep from your swollen eyes, discovering your boyfriend waiting for you where the door of the passenger seat should be.

“let’s get you some more rest.” he places a chaste kiss on your forehead, before standing aside to make way for you, offering his hand as a gentleman.

you must still be dreaming. you assumed he would bring you to his apartment, but you do not recognize this place. this is a different parking space, a different parking lot.

“um… t-this is…” you stumble on your words, feeling lost. “where are we?”

“home,” he smiles, the kind that reaches his eyes and turn them into little crescent moons.

you must still be dreaming. the clock attached to a nearby pillar strikes midnight, and unbeknownst to you, a brand new day awaits beyond the dark and empty sky.

you were so thoroughly convinced that you’ve been living a life past the point of salvation… but life stands before you overflowing with hope and glowing with ardor.

you take his hand and allow him to whisk you away to another world.

—

this is beginning to feel real, jungkook thinks as he presses the elevator button. earlier’s excitement becomes interweaved with nervousness. he’s a little dizzy as the giant box ascends. if you feel his hand’s growing clamminess, you don’t show it, your clasp still as firm as before.

“you bought another house…”

“hmm, but this one is a secret.” a confession that is yours truly. “this one is ours.”

your eyes wordlessly speak with each other. neither of you imagined following your hearts could materialize your future plans to the present time. what goes beyond dreaming of beautiful things is still foreign to the both of you, but jungkook is here, willing to free fall with you.

the elevator dings.

he guides you through a well-lit hallway, to a door, and you pay close attention as he punches in the passcode— another set of numbers you ought to have memorized alongside birthdays and anniversaries and id numbers.

your heart races but everything else moves in slow motion. the door opens and you get swallowed by the need to remember every moment so vividly as if you’re reliving it.

the first time you set foot into your own apartment,, the empty space daunted you despite its modest dimensions. however, right now, your head is tracing half of a circle, from left to right, just to study this large space in its entirety— and all you can think about are the endless possibilities forming intimate images of a sanctuary in your head— a place where fears and sadness can co-exist with tenderness and joy.

beside you, jungkook patiently holds your hand.

“this one is ours…” you repeat the words, more so to convince yourself, and they drip with disbelief.

you follow his lead as he walks to the other half of the room, bare feet sliding across the floor.

“this is the living room, and the other side is the kitchen.”

he faces you with a wide grin, the kind he wears when he wants to tell you something he is proud of.

“i was thinking that if we get a big television bolted on the wall…”

he gestures to the blank canvas, letting go of your hand to draw an invisible rectangle on the air with his arms fully outstretched.

“then we can easily watch even from the kitchen.”

he puffs up his chest, side-eyeing you expectantly.

“genius, right?”

“and greedy.” you blink. “i don’t think that’s safe to do while you’re cooking.”

“but i’ll be very, very careful!”

“that’s the bare minimum when you’re holding a knife.”

“okay! i look forward to arguing with you about that on a different day!”

his enthusiasm doesn’t waver. in fact, it is fueled. how could it not? when you’re starting to sound exactly like a couple who lives together?

he captures your wrist and tugs you towards the other side of the room, but you pull him back with a noise of protest.

“are we not going to address…” you hang on to your words, eyes wandering to the floor where there are signs of living. “whatever is going on here?”

a single mattress with a single pillow; a folded blanket neatly sitting on top of it. surrounding them are bottles of water, a laptop, a speaker, and a basket of what you assume are skincare products.

“i’ve been sleeping here lately…”

“i can see that.”

“i didn’t want to buy furnitures yet while you haven’t given me an answer… i just thought that if we’re living together, then we should decide on those things as a couple.”

…he dips down to kiss you. “it was hell without you…”

his teeth captures your bottom lip, nipping at the supple flesh.

“going to build a life with you. i’ll build furniture, and they’re going to be ours.”

jungkook feels your stare. oblivious of your thoughts reigning chaos, he tilts his head in question.

how long has he been planning this?

“you okay?”

you blink away the tears brimming your eyes. you shake your head, clinging to his arm. “where were you taking me?”

“this is the kitchen!”

a smile of contentment graces your lips. you’re guilty of admiring the pure, unadulterated joy on jungkook’s face instead of what he is passionately endorsing to you.

“this is the fridge!” he presents to you, swinging the door open. “but there’s nothing inside.”

“what are you saying? there is something.”

the two of you peer at the green can of soda, chilsung cider, left at a far corner. the refrigerator light casts over your curious faces.

“oh, that’s still there?”

the animated sound of your giggles prompts him to look at you, and he couldn’t be more glad to be laughing with you again, bellies aching at the same time.

“do you want it?”

“it’s not peach.”

“let’s move on then!”

there are cups of ramyeon and packs of dried seaweed on the countertop, the photo of his dinner that he sent last night still vivid in your memory. your hand daintily brushes across the white marble, stealing a feel as jungkook drags you to a new space.

“this is the second kitchen and laundry room!”

he waits for a reaction as you survey the room and its overhead cabinets.

“it’s not supposed to be the pantry…? eh, you know what? cooking and doing laundry are more of your thing so you can have them however you want.”

you turn on your heel to walk away, and jungkook follows behind you, celebrating his victory by punching the air and whisper-shouting a yeah!

“what’s here?”

you reach another hallway beside the living room.

“what’s here?” he zooms past you to open a door. “bathroom. there’s a bathtub! but i still need to install grip bars so no one will slip.”

he needs to stop saying things that make you want to make him your husband on the spot.

“and we have my favorite part! the master bedroom, of course!” he swings the door open on the other side. “where else would we spend the most time in?”

“wow, really? i thought you were also endorsing the living room as the bedroom.” you jokingly quirk an eyebrow.

“nonsense!” he cheekily chides you. “you deserve better than that.”

you take a step, peeking inside the empty room that you estimate to be as twice as larger than yours. you can’t say that you care so much about its size, because behind the white curtains, you reel at the prospect of the natural light shining over your face every time you wake up. your mornings have been gloomy since you arrived at seoul four years ago.

he sneaks his arms around your waist, your back resting against his chest, and your being feels so light you might just begin floating when he lets go.

“let’s stay like this for a while.”

“okay,” he puts his chin on top of your shoulder, his soft smile becoming permanent.

the two of you stand at the bedroom’s doorway; the cusp of what could be your entire lives.

“what’s that other room?”

“which one?”

“i don’t know. i see it from the side of my eye.”

he cackles at your humorous nonchalance. “i have more to show you. there’s a guest room… if we decide it to be.”

“cute. i have somewhere else to sleep when i’m mad at you.”

“that’s fine,” he replies after a beat of silence. “at least i’d know where to find you.”

“don’t make me change my mind.”

he cries out your name childishly, burying his face by the crook of your neck. he hugs you tighter. he wants to sleep every night drowning in the sweet scent of your hair. if he had to choose, it would be the most peaceful way to go.

“we have a walk-in closet too!”

“i expected nothing less.” you giggle, not a stranger to his lifestyle. “what’s exciting is that we can finally have a big bed.”

“but i like our small beds.”

“cuddling isn’t all that fun during the summer. trust me, you’d eventually want space.”

“nuh-uh! that’s what aircons are for!”

you roll your eyes at his persistence. “then why did you choose such a huge apartment if you wanted a small bed?”

“so we can have all the space to slow-dance to love songs.”

jungkook, ever the charmer. the butterflies in your stomach come alive beneath his embrace.

“why are you suddenly quiet?” he laughs. “was that too cheesy?”

“no!”

“really?” he spins you around, and heat creeps to your cheeks when he leans in so close that you can perfectly distinguish the brown in his eyes. “so have you given it more thought?”

“given what more thought?”

“there’s nothing to be scared of. it’s only the two of us here, see?” he tells you like overeager puppy. “will you move in with me?”

if this is a dream, you wish to never wake up from it. to have a person care for you this deeply and unconditionally, you want to believe that you have done something right to deserve it.

“i just don’t think you understand what you’re getting yourself into.”

his eyebrows knit together in defense. “what does that mean?”

“the thing is… yeah, sex 24/7 and cuddling and having first times together, that sounds amazing and all… but living with me would probably drive you crazy.”

a tired yawn almost interrupts the end of your sentence, and you cover your face out of courtesy. you sniffle and wipe your teary eyes with the back of your hand.

“i’ve lived on my own for so long. i’m messy and clumsy and i’m used to having everything my way… i mean… i’m willing to compromise, but i can’t promise i won’t be insufferable as hell about it.”

“ah, seriously! you scared me for nothing!” he exclaims, throwing his head back with a groan. “baby, i’ve been living with six other men for the past decade. you know that there was a time when we even slept together in one small room. can you imagine how that must’ve been like for a bunch of teenage boys…? you? messy? think about it again. living with you can’t possibly get worse than that. you don’t have to worry about me! really, i can take it! watch me!”

“but i bleed every month.”

“i’m a man. seeing a little blood doesn’t faze me.”

you make a face. “it’s actually a lot.”

“yah, why are you acting like we haven’t been together for two years?”

“it’s different living together!”

“it’s only natural! i don’t care!”

a noise of complaint bubbles in your throat when he shakes you by your shoulders, coaxing you with an whiny “please baby.”

your chest deflates in defeat. “sure, i guess… as long as we have the big bed, and the slow-dancing-”

“done!” he doesn’t waste his breath, not keen on wasting this opportunity. “anything you want, you have it!”

you narrow your eyes. “and i’ll keep my tutoring job.”

“will you punch the next guy that insists you study at his dorm for me?”

“or i can just keep saying no firmly, baby boy.”

and with that pet name, he instantly folds. “okay.”

“okay?”

“okay, since that’s the only one that you genuinely like.”

“you-” your teeth unconsciously finds your bottom lip to dig into, and you inhale sharply. “…you really love me, don’t you?”

suddenly, you’re raising your voice and waving your hands in the air. you’re feeling too many emotions at once; it’s like when you mix all the colors in a palette and end up creating black. you’re angry and happy and you may be fucking crying again.

“you were just picking up speakers one night and a pretty stranger offers you some boring food and now you want to be stuck with me forever?”

your fist throws a restrained punch to his chest, shoving him backwards.

“oh my god, you’re so stupid!”

jungkook finds this too amusing, tries to hide that he is enjoying this but a smirk is plastered on his face.

“you are loved by so many,” he brushes away the hair that has fallen over your eyes. he tucks them behind you ears and tenderly holds your face in his warm hands. “but i’m confident that i love you the most.”

you are the muse in his dreams. your perfume clings to his clothes. you make him the happiest man on the planet and your pain torments him. what is this, if not love?

“and if that makes me the stupid one? then so be it.”

“when did it become a competition?”

“since you got yourself a competitive boyfriend!”

“okay, fine! let’s make it my fault!”

you throw your arms around his neck, peppering kisses all over his face until he’s an uncontainable giggling mess.

“i’m drowning in kisses! nobody help!”

and you hope you’re hugging him close enough that he can feel the love and gratitude flowing through your veins. your eyes flutter shut, and you sigh— tranquility triumphs over chaos.

“are you falling asleep standing up again?”

“no!” you blatantly lie, drawing back with innocence masking your drowsiness. “we still need to go online shopping!”

“what are we buying?”

your face lights up. “appliances first?”

“appliances?” he cheerfully says. “sure! let’s get you new shoes too!”

as he gets dragged to the living room where his laptop is, he mumbles something with an enamored expression. “i should keep working hard.”

—

“yah, why are looking at me like that?” jungkook chuckles upon feeling your poorly concealed stare, diverting his attention away from the laptop over his stomach. “i’m the real deal. the tv is over there, on the screen.”

“just because…”

you snuggle closer to his side, heart fluttering when his arm that is your pillow moves to also hold you. you don’t really mind a small bed. this is the most favorable consequence a nuisance could have.

“i feel sorry.”

“sorry? for what?”

“because i made you sad, didn’t i? i hate that so much.” you sniffle, hand coming up to pat his cheek affectionately. “i know it must be hard for you too.”

“you’re the one who’s in a lot of pain.” he means to firmly speak, but the tremble of his voice rudely refuses to cooperate. “how could you even think of me feeling sad?”

“because i love you. of course i always think of you.” you argue, bottom lip jutting out into a pout. “i can’t do that now?”

he sighs. “you know that’s not what i meant.”

a kiss is planted on your forehead— tender and cherishing.

“let’s be happy, baby.”

the sharp edges of jungkook’s fears are eroded in a way. in a universe that relentlessly challenges you to be optimistic, your heart that is well-versed in loving continues to rise above it all.

you echo his words wistfully. “let’s be happy.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

[hotxcheeto]

Hi, can u write a domestic, fluffy, sweet headcannon about things ellie would do with the reader after coming back from work? I would love that<3

Biggest fan...

━ 𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐖/ 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Ellie Williams x G/N!reader

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing? It's fluffy

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - HAPPY HOLIDAYSSSSSS!! THANK YOU SM FOR 4000 FOLLOWERS I LOVE YOU ALL!! even if i post every 2 months <3

Ellie loves her job, she does

She just hates working

She'd rather be at home, with you, her game controller and whatever takeout you both picked for that night

And so when the end of the day rolls around, she gets in her car and drives home

Sometimes she'll surprise you with food if she knows you're having a rough day, or sometimes she'll just get it to get it

Then she's showing up with a bag in hand and a tired face and you know she's ready to eat and sleep

On regular days though, she loves coming home and walking in to you making dinner for the both of you

The smell of coming from the kitchen mixed with your humming?

She's down baddddddd

Astronomically

To the moon and back

She always did want to be an astronaut

But she'll walk in, and you'll know because she throws her shit more than half the time before picking it back up with a sigh

Then she wanders over to you despite definitely needing a shower but you never mind because she'll wrap her arms around your waist and hide her face in your neck

But the moment she cements this, it's impossible to get her off

Like I mean impossible

Sometimes she'll ramble at this stage of the night because she has a lot to say about her day and she doesn't want to forget before she tells you

So she'll just unload, all of it, while you're stirring soup or something

Oh and you love her but this girl can YAP

certified yapper

But you don't mind cause you haven't seen her all day so you just let her go

Then when she decides she's had enough, she'll try to cuddle on you again while you're cooking and you have to make her go and shower

It's sweet until you realize she's sweaty so off you make her go

You can hear her mumbling to herself as she walks away if you listen

More often than not she showers hella fast and is back out in the same koala position as before if the food isn't done

But she doesn't talk anymore

Silence besides your humming or your talking

And she very much prefers it that way because she loves the sound of your voice

And when you both sit down to eat she sits across from you when she's in a chatty mood and next to you when she's that tired she can barely keep her head up

She has those days when she stays up way too late despite you yelling at her

Take her phone, she'll be mad for five minutes then be fine after

the og ipad kid

Anyhow... after y'all eat, depending on how tired you both are, it's couch time

That's when you lay there and contemplate life together <3

It's TV show and movie timeeeeeeee

She's a game of thrones nerd

hated the ending too

Dany stan fr fr

Cause she's hot

Y'all are stuck to that couch until bed time

She cuddles bad, ur practically glued together for the entirety of the night

When it's skincare time she watches you

Same if you wear make up, she stares

0-0

It's just cause she finds you mesmerizing, until you make her wash her face too and put 48938490238 more products after

Then she pouts as you put them on her cause she wants to go to bed

But she gets happier once you're laying down and she's wrapped so far around you, you're sure she could be a contortionist if she decided to quit her day job

But she's a sweetie <3

[inkyray]

sick!matt x reader fluff 😛

a/n: i literally love writing a platonic reader n chris dynamic

content ahead: sick!matt x reader, bae u a master chef in this, just pure cutesy fluff :P

TOO LATE

"You're joking." You say, holding your phone up to your ear as Nick's voice boomed through it. "I swear I'm not, he can't even like– walk on his own." Nick said, almost like he was complaining but he definitely wasn't, if anything he was worried for his brother Matt.

He called you to let you know just how bad Matt's sickness got, based on what he told you, Matt's body temperature was burning hot yet he was still freezing, he was cold and sweaty, his small strands of hair sticking to his forehead. Apparently it was a struggle for him to even head to the bathroom, almost falling over with how weak his body had gotten. "Whatever he's got, it's definitely worse than fever." Nick sighs as you hold your phone with your cheek and shoulder, putting on your shoes.

"I'm coming over, I'm bringing medicine and a few ingredients. I'll make him some soup, hopefully it'll help." You assure, tying your shoelaces. Nick sighs in relief, "Thank fuck. I knew you'd be help. I'm like, so glad Matt came to his senses and asked you to be his girlfriend. If he hadn't done it sooner I would've asked you to marry me by then." You brightly laugh at his words, grabbing for your keys.

"Okay, I'll be over in a few minutes."

-

It was a lot worse than you thought.

The moment you entered his room, it was warm with unnatural heat and he was clearly tangled under all his pillows. You approached the side he was laying in, bending down to his level, your knees on the floor as your hands immediately tangled in his hair, moving it to the side so you could see his eyes better. "Matt." You mutter, your voice low and soft, unsure if he's asleep or not. His eyes flutter open to the sound of your voice, looking up at you lazily, beyond glad that you were here. He utters your name, his voice husky and thick. You immediately lean forward to peck him on the lips. "How are you feeling?" You question

He frowns, as if his sickness has been draining both physically and mentally. "Horrible. So so bad." Matt's eyes look like they were exhausted, rimmed with pink. You scowled, feeling beyond bad for your boyfriend. "Okay, I brought you medicine. Sit up for me, baby?" You ask him, your voice immediately soothing through his migraine like honey.

You turn to the bag you brought, skimming through it as you grab the right antibiotic. Matt takes long seconds to build up the courage to sit up, knowing how much physical energy it would take from him. When you turn your head back to him, he finally uses his elbows to sit up, his blanket slipping from off his chest, a hot breeze hitting you in the face.

A small comforting grin rests on your lips, and Matt curves his lips up lazily and crookedly, his mood feeling the most better at the sight of you. Handing him the pills to his palm, you grab the water bottle by his bed. 

With the pills finding their way to his mouth, you hold the water bottle up to his mouth. He takes large gulps from the bottle, depending on you to hold it for him. He pulls his head away, deciding that was enough for him after swallowing the medicine, visibly wincing, lifting a hand to touch his adam's apple. You understand that he had a bad case of a sore throat, and you get up. Matt's eyes follow you up. "Have you eaten yet?" You question, and he drops his gaze, shaking his head. You sigh.

"I thought as much."

"I'm sorry." He apologized with a harsh and croaky voice. You melt right then and there. "No, no. Matt, hon, it's okay." You offer a breathy chuckle. "I'll cook for you." You soothe your hands through his knotted and messy hair and his face visibly softens. He loved when you'd cook, always preferring it over take-out.

One time, you had caught your boyfriend arguing with his brother, Chris, to have you cook for them instead of just ordering out.

+

"Dude, she's not gonna be able to make chicken alfredo. We don't have the fucking ingredients." Chris sighed, pressing his eyebrows together.

"Chris, trust me. We could just go out and buy them really quick! I swear, it'll be heavenly." Matt jolted his leg up and down, attempting to talk him through it, already tasting his girlfriend's cooking on his tongue.

"It's almost 12:00 AM, Matt! The store is literally closed and she probably doesn't even wanna cook." Chris initiated, grabbing his phone out to order something. Matt rests his head on his palm, leaning against the kitchen island as he watches Chris order, giving up. "Do you think she'll want to tomorrow, though?" Matt wonders out loud.

"I actually hope so. I don't think anyone's made steak the same way she has." Chris responds, not denying the fact that your cooking truly is something else. "Right?" Matt agrees. "One of the best dinners of my life." Chris nods along, secretly hoping you'd be willing to feed them the next day.

+

You tap the large wooden spoon against the pot, letting any remaining liquid fall down the pot. You had decided to make him the classic chicken noodle soup. When Nick was sick, you had made him tomato soup, thankfully he had loved it, even after recovering asking you to make him some more. But you knew if you made that for Matt, it would've been a death wish.

You pour him the soup in a bowl, lifting a normal spoon up to your mouth as you blow the steam away, trying it. Perfect.

Getting the feeling of a lingering body behind, you spin your head around, seeing Chris hold his phone between both his hands like a purse, standing shyly behind you as he eyes the pot. "You good?" You laugh, and he doesn't audibly respond, only giving you an exaggerated sigh. "You want to try?" You finally ask after he gives you another sigh, he smiles immediately. "Yes, puh-lease." He uttered desperately. You take a quick scoop and hold it up, holding a palm under the spoon to keep anything from dripping. He notices your action, taking the spoon from you and mimicking your gesture, holding a hand under it as he brings it to his mouth.

He blows on it, flinching at the hotness of the liquid before finally pulling it in his mouth. A sense of victory pumps through you as you watch his eyes light up. "Can I have a bowl? Please, please, please. I promise I won't ask you for anything else. " He begs and you roll your eyes. 

"Let me feed your brother first, if there's any left, you can take some."

"Ugh." He huffs, migrating to the living room couch, watching on his phone until you're done.

You place the bowl under a plate, stabilizing it as you head for Matt's room.

Pushing through the door, you walk in on Matt in the same position you had left him in, scrolling through his phone before looking up at you when you enter. Closing his phone, he fixates himself on the bed as you approach, sitting on the side of his bed right by where his legs are crossed over each other under the blankets. "You made soup?" He questions before his eyes level with the bowl.

"I had to, it's tradition." You tell him, knowing he wasn't the biggest fan of soup. But if you were one thing, it would be willing to get him to like anything. "Okay." He hums, although you hadn't said anything, he trusted your judgement. You hold the spoon up to your mouth and blow at it, trailing it to his mouth.

"It's too hot, baby." He gasps, his lips jolting back from the sudden heat. "I know, but you'll have to drink it down. The whole point of soup when you're sick is to drink it hot." You assure, blowing a little more at it.

"But why?" He murmured, not liking what you were saying. "To burn the germs and to help you sweat, sweating helps you lose your fever quicker." He listens to you explain as you continue a little further, mentally reminding himself that you were also an older sister, this behavior coming to you naturally.

"Mm. Okay."

Grimacing when the hot liquid makes its way into his mouth, his face drops from any stiffness and lets it marinate in his mouth, swallowing it down. "Is there anything you're not good at?" He asks.

"I always burn sugar cookies."

"Oh yeah." Matt recalls. "I thought I was gonna experience a second house fire."

You shut him up with another spoon to his mouth.

-

The hours pass and you've done everything in your will to help Matt, and now that the sun is fully set, you can tell he has gotten the slightest bit better, knowing the change would kick in the next morning. There was no doubt that you were tired, doing the dishes and putting everything away, tidying up the kitchen, the living room, and Matt's bedroom.

It was when he threatened to never recover from this fever until you finally rested when you decided to take a break. You changed into spare pajamas that you keep in Matt's room, he watched you change with an upset look playing. 

"What?" You had asked.

"Wish I wasn't sick. Doing all these things for me, and still looking so beautiful. What a lucky piece of shit I am." He began getting sentimental. "You're too perfect for this world, you know that?" He watches you turn a flustered shade of blossom as you begin crawling into bed next to him.

You lay on your side as Matt raised an arm to drape over your shoulder, pushing you closer to him as you got comfortable, resting his hands on the dip of your waist, his fingers drawing shapes. Seconds pass, and you finally answer. "I don't think you're a piece of shit."

The sound of his hoarse chuckle vibrates through his chest. "You suck at taking compliments."

You lift your head up and he looks down at you, both of you getting the same idea in mind. "Don't." He warns, but you kiss him anyway. You didn't care that he was sick, or if that'll get you sick too. His warm lips pressed onto yours as you smiled in triumph.

"Too late."

[ma1dita]

🐥

okay I dont wanna seem annoying but it's 10:53pm and the ideas r coming in but I already sent an ask in so do whichever u want first 😭

bf!Luke when he's sick headcanons? (can be in an au where they're js normal ppl or can be them at camp, your choice !! 🫶🏼

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

a/n: LIVVVVV i truly believe that if this man was sick with an SO that would take care of him he would be the biggest bitch alive just because he can

at camp:

it starts with a sniffle, luke trying to be oh so brave about it until he can’t ignore the sneezes that sound like they could shake the earth and all of cabin 11 (if you think those kids barely got sleep in general, you should see them get mad at luke’s dumbass going ACHOO for the 47th time that night)

so they rightfully complain to you to go get your man and drag his ass to the infirmary, because the cabin counselor he is loves taking care of others but throws a fit when they tell him to get checked out by the apollo kids talking bout “i don’t get sick, i’m too cool to get sick! heroes don’t get—”

yeah so he has the flu

one stern look from you sends him packing towards the infirmary, dragging his feet in the dirt and complaining the whole way

he puts up a fight the whole time, swatting the healer’s hands away to the point they want to tie him to the bed, and luke doesn’t like not winning

“luke just listen to the fucking healer and you’ll be out of here faster.” “bedrest! they want me to be strapped down here forever, babe, you know i don’t like not moving for that long! though if you were the one tying me down…” *sniffles innocently*

a cold towel smacks him in the face

you end up nursing his nasty germ-riddled ass back to health in a corner of the infirmary that you have to make your own for the next week and a half. 

but if you ask him, he felt fine after a few days—he just likes being taken care of by you

im bored lets do modern hcs too:

in this universe he’s still a little shit but at least you two live together in a cute little city apartment

luke’s laid out on the couch wrapped up in some of your coziest throw blankets as he scrolls through old reruns of friends, laughing at chandler’s humor because i imagine it to be a lot like his own (of course, if rick let him be funny instead of traumatized and an antagonist)

you’re making chicken noodle soup in the kitchen and the smell wafts through the air of your apartment even if he’s so congested his voice sounds funny when he talks

i think you guys would have two cats, brother and sister—absolute menaces, pouncing on him in turns trying to resuscitate their dad from his lifeless form on the couch to throw their little mouse toy around

that or a really big senior dog who sleeps at his feet and turns its head every time luke makes a funny noise

oh he’s still annoying in this one trust—you gave him a little silver dinner bell to ring if he needs you since you’re working from home in the other room but the problem is this man always needs you

ring. “babe!’ ring. “baby!” ring ring. “love of my life, absolute goddess among—*wheeze* humans, can you come here a second?”

“what’s up, honey?” “oh i just needed to see your pretty face. feeling better already!” 

you toss a pillow at his head and get back to your meeting.

when it’s over though, you join him in his little blanket fortress and he lays on your chest, sniffling and smiling as he pulls you into a kiss and thanking you for existing

you get sick after but it’s worth it. sort of like payback

[macsimagines]

hiiii!! can i request separate HCs for Yandere Kisaki Tetta, Bonten Mikey, and Sanzu Haruchiyo where Y/N has like a big appetite and eats a lot but suddenly stops bcs ppl are bullying her for that?? Thank u so much!

TW:YANDERE CONTENT, MINORS DNI, PSUEDO-CANNABILISM isthatevenathing, VIOLENCE, DEATH AND TORTURE MENTION

Yandere!Kisaki Tetta

Bitch, he does not put in those extra hours at the office for you to not enjoy your Wagyu Tomahawk steak, specially prepared and basted to the perfect temperature.

Knows right away when you don't finish your usual 4+ plates. "Darling, is there something wrong with the caviar?" "Kisaki, do you think I'm fat?" "Fucking what-"

But no really, whoever made fun of you is going to get it. He works hard to have the supreme joy of being able to feed you the very best at all times whenever you want.

Gourmet sushi? He'll have a chef from Sukiyabashi Jiro come in to serve you. Duck Confit? He's got a French master flown in the next day. Mcdonalds? ....he owns a few for your sake but he's not too happy about it.

His beloved is a foodie and she's going to enjoy food goddamnit. And the idiot that made her feel bad? Well he's being fed to some award winning pigs he'll be happy to dine upon later....

Yandere!Mikey Sano

He doesn't have very many joys in his life now that he's lost so much and is the head of the notorious Bonten group. But what does brighten his life a little is sharing meals with you.

You're the only person that can get him to eat so much, even his closest underlings notice that when he's with you he's chowing down food like never before. So long as you are spoon feeding him, he'll eat every bite.

Also loves how much you eat. You love food and he loves you if this is how he can bring you joy then he'll make sure you've got plate after plate. But the second you try to say "I'm not hungry..." he knows somethings up.

Finds out who's been making fun of you and makes sure they starve slowly and painfully. "If my Y/N doesn't get to enjoy food, then neither do you."

Eventually convinces you it doesn't matter what others say and spoon feeds you for a change. "C'mon, its you're favorite. Say ah~"

Yandere!Sanzu Haruchiyo

Loves the fact that you eat like a beast. No one can put it away like his baby and he thinks all that good food goes straight to his favorite plushy places >:3c!!!

Miiiiiiight have a bit of food kink. "Your lips look so good around that hotdog but I got somethin' else you can deep throat-! OW!" Ok ya, he knows to leave you alone when you eat....

When he notices you're not eating as much though he does try to ask about it. "What? Is it the coke? That shit'll mess up your appetite babe. Wait you're not on drugs?"

Puts two and two together and doesn't accept that as a reason for not eating. "Don't worry bout that fucker baby, daddy'll handle it. Now open wide, I got some nice steak here for ya~"

He's a total perv, but he still loves you very much. Feeds that asshole that made fun of you to sharks. Then has the sharks killed, and made into sushi and soup. He wonders if you'll think it tastes good.

[pilatesmornings]

i always told myself that ill treat myself with grandma's dishes once im skinny. i always put it away and always thought im gonna eat it later. like i had a lot of time. i thought i do. now ill never have a chance to act so.

if only i knew, grandma. i swear i would eat a whole liter of your borscht, enjoy every single spoon and tell u how nobody cooks it better than u. cuz nobody does.

take it back. take all of my dieting progress back. just give me one more chance to eat her soup and with a wide smile say thank u after. i want her to know how i love it and how i love her.

will i ever be able to eat now?

rest in peace, my dear dove.

[azrielhours]

The Flirting Game

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Synopsis: Reader and Az flirt around each other lots. He shoots her down bc he doesn’t feel like he deserves her. She tries to move on but he intervenes. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What are you doing?”

You looked up to find Azriel entering the threshold.

Your cheeks heated. “I was just trying to put my bracelet back on.” 

“In the kitchen?” Azriel smiled, bemused.

You offered a coy smile. “You got any objections, Shadowsinger?”

Azriel’s brows rose. “Can’t say that I do,” he countered without missing a beat.

You shrugged. “I just took it off because I was doing some dishes.” 

He studied you for a beat; one of your hands lay on the counter atop the jewelry, the other poorly attempted to latch the two ends together.

You watched Azriel as he watched you, not knowing what to do with yourself. “Let me,” he finally said.

He walked towards you at your nod of consent, standing right in front of you, making you stand straighter at the sudden proximity. He carefully picked up the ends of the bracelet. You ignored how delicately he brought the chain over your wrist, how gentle his caress was where he grazed your skin. You took a steadying breath, staring at his hands as they worked to avoid staring at his face, mere inches away from yours. 

“I can’t get the clasp,” he muttered, that baritone voice resonating right into your curling insides. You raised your wrist for him, holding your arm horizontally at chest level. He gripped the ends and tried again. With his focus on the bracelet so close to your face, this time you didn’t resist studying his devastating face. His brows were slightly furrowed in concentration. His jaw was set as he worked. 

His beauty was unparalleled.

To your regret, he successfully clasped it. “There.” He met your gaze. His fingers just barely grasped your wrist between his thumb and index. You began lowering your arm, your stare remained fixed on his. His featherlight caress held in place as his hand lowered in time with yours. He held your stare, throat bobbing.

“Thank you,” you breathed, unsure how to keep the space between the two of you empty, but words weren’t enough to displace the tension.

His eyes travelled from your eyes to your mouth. Back to your eyes. The fingers on your wrist tightened ever so slightly. The lightest pressure, yet it had the heaviest bearing on you. That pressure turned to a soft stroke of his thumb. You shivered.

Then he withdrew his hand. “No problem.” He took a step back. You frowned slightly. Did you misread his intention? You broke his gaze, turning your body so it was parallel with the counter again. 

“Do you… um, want some soup? It’s what I was making,” you tried weakly, attempting to clear the air.

You finally turned to look at him. He was watching you with that hunger in his eyes from before. Then he blinked and it was gone. “No. Thank you, I have to go meet Cassian.”

You nodded, breaking his gaze again. “Okay.” You didn’t look back up to see him as he left without another word, leaving you as confused as you just were tempted.

You didn’t see Azriel again for the rest of the day.

~

In the library, you looked for the right author section by section in lieu of the Dead Trove research on Rhys’s command. More like Rhys’s suggestion, but anything to take your mind off a certain hazel-eyed spymaster sounded swell. He had you wrapped completely around his finger and didn’t even know it. 

Your fingers stalled on a book spine as the strange occurrence in the kitchen the day before played through your mind. How he’d eyed your lips, how close he’d been to—

“Slacking on the job?” 

You started, turning to find the tenant of your thoughts.

Azriel tutted. “The High Lord will be hearing about this.” 

You smiled. “What’s it to you?”

His brows rose playfully. “I ask the questions.”

“Is that so?”

“Indeed it is.”

You nodded in challenge. Trying your hand again at flirting with him seemed futile, yet he made it come so naturally. “I was doing just fine until you came along.”

His eyes narrowed. “So now I’m the problem.”

“Mhm. You’re trouble.”

He just stared down at you, making it hard to hold his gaze. You swallowed. “What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

Azriel huffed a laugh. “Some of us actually have to do work around here.”

“I don’t know if I’d call distracting me work,” you quipped.

He cocked his head. “I don’t know if I’d call stroking the books work.”

You laughed. “That’s actually the best way to absorb the knowledge. Didn’t you know?”

“Odd method, but whatever gets the job done.”

Out of words to say, you let yourself shamelessly stare. He stared right back.

The silence was stifling under his gaze. You turned back to the books. “Are you a big reader?”

“Allegedly.”

You turned back to face him, feeling emboldened. “Hmm. So you’re not just a pretty face, then.” 

Azriel’s surprise betrayed him for only a moment, before he broke your gaze, blushing. You caught his small smile before he turned to face the bookshelves. Shit. Too bold. You turned to face the books too. “Enjoy your book stroking, Y/N.” You tensed at the gentle rejection, face burning. 

You frowned at the books, offering no response in the wake of your shame. Azriel swiftly made his way to the exit at your silence. God, that was mortifying. Did you truly misread his tone again? But he’d smiled at the comment. The confusion blurred the sharp edges of embarrassment, making it marginally more bearable. 

It took a few moments to settle down, but once you finally did, you steeled your nerves and yielded to the wall emerging inside you. 

No, you didn’t misread his tone twice. But you wouldn’t let him shoot you down a third time. 

~

You were determined to have a good night, even if it was just to recover from Azriel’s light rejection. You surveyed the room, unabashedly taking in the males around you, looking at the attractive ones from head to toe, from one to the other, onto the next. 

Mor was appalled when you’d told her what Azriel said. Enjoy your book stroking my ass! He’d know a thing or two about lonesome stroking. Asshole. She’d helped you get ready for the party, some formal event crawling with officials.

An opportunity. 

You weren’t a quitter by any means, but a girl can take a hint. If he wanted to play games, you could too. The hot and cold one just wasn’t your pick of the litter.

Azriel sat on the opposite end of the room, nursing a drink as he conversed. You didn’t miss the way he immediately looked for you upon entering the room, the heft in his gaze as he took you in in your dress. You’d looked away.

Of all the hints you’ve been dropping this week, that was the one he chose to take.

You made it a point not to look his way since, and he hadn’t looked your way either. 

You were sitting on the arm of a couch, sipping leisurely on your drink as you continued your scouting. Sons of lords and ladies, emissaries, warriors—the selection was not bad at all.

“I didn’t know the high lord made courtiers out of hawks,” a voice drawled to your left. 

You turned to find a male leaning against the wall. You cocked your head at him in confusion.

“You’ve been assessing the crowd like a huntress all evening.”

You shrugged. “Nothing wrong with a little spectating.”

“Can’t argue there,” he smiled. “I’m Andri.” He extended a hand, which you took to shake. He raised it to place a kiss on it. “High Lord Kallias’s son.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you offered. Nice indeed. His mother was a beauty, and he’d clearly inherited her sharp features. A rosy tint on his porcelain skin. Tousled white hair. Striking icy eyes. 

“You’re the night court emissary?” 

You turned your body to face him, so your crossed legs hung off the side. “Emissary, advisor, part-time academic, I suppose.”

The familiar sensation of Azriel’s shadows swirling around your feet momentarily distracted you, but you kept your eyes glued on Andri.

“Sounds like a handful.”

You offered a smile. “Gotta occupy my free time somehow.”

His gaze endured. “I haven’t seen you before. Does Rhys keep you locked away?”

You laughed. “Something like that.”

He stepped forward so his legs brushed your knees. He reached for your hand. “I’d like to see you more,” he muttered. 

The dejection from earlier gnawed at your stomach as you weighed your options. Without looking, you knew Azriel was listening to your conversation. Just like you weren’t looking his way, but you could see him downing his drink in your peripheral vision. So you placed your hand in the open palm, and Andri pulled you to him, raising you to your feet.

A glass suddenly slammed into a table. 

You both turned to see Azriel standing abruptly. He made his way to you. You froze, not knowing what to expect. Once he made it to you, he took a deep, steadying breath, staring right into your eyes. “Azriel,” you breathed.

You were almost fearful for Andri’s safety. You removed your hand from his and braced it tentatively on Azriel’s chest on instinct. Azriel brought his hand up and placed it over yours. His hold was alarmingly gentle in contrast to the reaction he just displayed. “Y/N,” he exhaled.

“Yes?” 

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

The rejection from before came crashing down on you. You pulled your hand out of his hold. Your hurt must’ve shown in your eyes, your irritation, because Azriel’s mask of authority and contained fury faltered. Regret flashed in his eyes, just enough to tip the scale. “Okay,” you said tensely. You let him lead you to the balcony.

Mor, bless her heart, immediately jumped into action, bounding for Andri to do damage control. 

Out on the balcony, you crossed your arms across your stomach. He leaned over the railing overlooking to city, steadying himself as you waited patiently. When he turned back to look at you, gone was the anger from before. “I’m sorry,” he began.

You eyed him warily, nodding for him to continue. 

“I didn’t mean to get angry.”

You shrugged. “It seems you don’t mean a lot of things.”

He winced. “Y/N. It’s not like that.” He walked to stand directly before you.

“What’s it like, then?”

He took a deep breath. “You don’t… you don’t understand.” He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. 

“Tell me,” you tired a touch more gently. 

He looked at you with visible pain in his eyes. Whatever he couldn’t say was eating him up inside. More silence followed as he tried and failed to get the words out.

“Az,” you stepped toward him, reaching forward for his hand. You stopped yourself, retracting your hand. “Tell me,” you whispered. 

“I can’t.”

You huffed, exasperated. “Okay. I’m going back inside then.”

You tried to walk away when he suddenly grasped your elbow, halting you. “Don’t see him,” Azriel said.

“What?”

“Don’t see him.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” he gently pulled you back to where you stood before, both his hands now bracketing your elbows. “Because, Y/N. You’re mine,” he rasped.  

You faltered, unable to hide the shock on your face. You brought your hands onto his chest but couldn’t bring yourself to push him away. “You don’t mean that,” you breathed.

Azriel’s eyes screwed shut for a moment. “Do you have any idea,” he rasped lowly, “how fucking hard it is to stay away?”

You stared blankly, hands still braced on his chest. Not one thought in your mind.  

“You have no idea, Y/N. No idea.”

“But why?” you breathed. Your pain shone on your face to match his.

“Because.” An inhale. “I don’t—I don’t deserve you.”

“What?” you balked. Was he being serious? “Azriel,” you huffed in disbelief. “What?” you repeated, at a loss for words. 

“You’re just… you’re good, and kind, and you’re full of life. I don’t want to take that away,” he spoke lowly. Like speaking any louder would make it more real. 

“Az,” you breathed. “I feel like you’re overestimating your powers a bit there.”

He frowned in confusion. 

You continued. “You can’t take away any part of me. And you’re not some…corroding entity.” 

He cracked a smile, despite himself.

“You’re also good and kind and—and everything I’ve wanted. You make me feel alive, Az.”

Azriel moved his hold to your waist. You could feel his heart racing beneath your hand.

“Haven’t I made it obvious I was into you?” you offered a small smile.

Azriel grinned in return. “Well, yeah, your flirting wasn’t exactly subtle.”

You shrugged. “Can’t help that you’re my favourite batboy.”

His smile endured. “So you’re not just a pretty face, then.”

You laughed. “Hey!” you tired sounding offended, but his laugh made you beam. 

He pulled you closer. “You’re my favourite.”

“But I’m not a batboy.”

“Stop ruining the moment,” he chuckled.

You smiled up at him, and you couldn’t stop smiling even as he kissed you. Didn’t stop smiling when he finally broke away and led you back inside.

He leaned down to whisper, “we probably jeopardized Night Court relations with Winter.”

You grinned up at him. “You win some, you lose some.”

He smiled down at you, nothing but happiness lighting up his eyes. “Indeed.”

~

taglist: @iimisty-a @feyretopia @cityofidek @cullenswife @reiincarnatiion @sfhsgrad-blog @answer-the-sirens @mrstangerinejohnson @marigold-morelli @courtofjurdan @azriels-mate123 @punishers-girl

[tomssexdoll]

Hiiiii!!! I just want to say I love your work!! if you haven't already can u please do one where tom is sick and the reader takes care of him and hes super clingy.

Thank You!!!!! Love you!!!

hi love! tysm for all the support ur so kind <3

Sick

PAIRINGS: Tom 2014 x Female reader CONTENT: FLUFF SYPNOSIS: Tom has been feeling sick lately, after a meet and greet he contracted someones sickness. He's been really clingy and whiny but you love it, you take care of him because you adore and love him. A/N: this era ofc cause why tf not WARNINGS: none, just love <3

Tom has been feeling really sick lately, throwing up and sneezing quite a lot. He had a meet and greet a few days ago and thinks he contracted someones sickness, he did infact shake so many hands.

He whined and pulled me closely as I was walking by, "y/n..come here" I giggled and pulled away as he tried to kiss me "eww tom you have snot all over your nose, there's no way i'm gonna catch your sickness."

"You're so mean" he groaned and turned away from me, I rolled my eyes playfully "stop acting like a child Tom, here put your hands out" I tapped him, he turned a little and peeked at me, holding out his hands as I squirted some hand sanitizer onto them. "Rub it in, i'm not doing absolutely everything for you baby" I chuckled. He sighed dramatically loud and rubbed the sanitzer in his hands.

"Stay here and rest, I'm popping out to the shops and getting you some things" he whined again but I just ignored it, as much as I loved him he got so clingy when he was sick.

I got into my car and drove to the local pharmicist, buying medicine and a few snacks for him, the ones I knew he loved.

I returned home and heard his heavy footsteps as soon as I came to the door, he must of heard my car in the driveway.

He opened the door and hugged me tightly, "I missed you baby" he kissed the top of my head like 20 times. "Relax Tommy, go back to the couch and I'll show you what I got" I smiled.

He raced to the couch and I sat down beside him, opening the back and pulling out the medicine, along with his favourite snacks, his eyes lit up "holy shit! i love these!" he smiled brightly and kissed my cheek "thankyou schatz, ich liebe dich." He instantly starting munching on the chips I got him, groaning "it's so good" I chuckled "yeah yeah, time for medicine liebe, open up" I grabbed the bottle of medicine and poured it onto a tablespoon, grabbed the spoon from me and poured it into his mouth, gagging a litttle "fuck that tastes like shit" making dramatic faces and noises, I giggled "it's not that bad don't be dramatic."

Later in the night I woke up to him coughing quite badly, I winced, not wanting him to be in pain. I got up and got the medicine again and heated up some chicken noodle soup I had made for him before.

I softly woke him up, "liebe..you were coughing pretty badly, sit up so I can give you these" I turned the bedside lamp on and waited for him to sit up. He groggily got up, his eyes still shut.

"Ughh..I hate being sick.." he whimpered, taking the spoon of medicine from me and pouring it into his mouth again. He turned to go to sleep but I stopped him "ah ah ah, not yet tom" he groaned and I slowly fed him the soup, making sure he didn't gulp it all up at once because he did that once when he was sick and I didn't need a repeat of that event.

"Cmon liebe, lets go to sleep" I smiled softly and turned off the lamp, getting into bed beside him. He grabbed me and pulled me closer, wrapping his strong arms around my waist. "need you close..love you so much" he mumbled before drifting off to sleep, I giggled quietly and fell asleep in his arms.

The next morning I woke up and noticed Tom was out of bed, I went into the living room and saw him playing video games, his nose clogged with tissues and his eyes red from him itching them so much. "What did I tell you about rubbing your eyes Tom?" I groaned, rolling my eyes and stopping him from playing, applying cream onto his eyes, "baby I almost won!" he whined, I snapped back at him "I don't care Tom! You're sick and I'm taking care of you!" I heard oo's and shes mad from Bill, Gustav and Georg from his headphones, and a smile tugged at my lips.

"Shut up guys" I laughed and walked off, preparing some healthy food for him to recover from his cold. I chopped up some vegetables for the soup I was making. I poured him some lemonade, "here you go baby, it'll make you feel less nauseous" I smiled and he gladly accepted the glass, slowly sipping on it as I had instructed him to multiple times before.

As I was making the food, so focused on chopping vegetables, I forgot about Tom gaming and didn't realize the yelling and noises stopped, I felt his hands wrap around my waist behind me and his soft lips pressed against my neck. I smirked and turned to look at him "yess tom?" "I love you baby, thankyou for taking care of me" he said, smiling lovingly, I kissed his lips softly "of course, you know I love you a lot."

"Hey! Didn't you say you weren't gonna kiss me cause I'm sick!" he complained, I giggled "yeah, but now you can take care of me if I get sick" I winked and he chuckled, kissing me again.

E/N: This was actually adorable, I loved writing this

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I CAME AND I SAW THAT U WERE ALSO INFECTED WITH THE SILLY PUPPET THING,WELCOME..TO THE COMMUNITY! (Get it?)

May I request some headcanons of Barnaby,Sally and Wally meeting a Very Old Goose Puppet Y/n? Just this worn out,Raggedy and Intimidating Goose Grandparent who then absolutely babies them and teaches them self defense tricks,making them soup,maybe they worked as some sort of guard or security! Just pepaw/granny goose caring over these silly puppets.also like they could be going round the forest and a feral bear pops up,Pepaw Goose just turns around and hiss at it and the bear scampers off while Pepaw is like “Anyways-“ (Thoight would be funny because Geese are used as Guard animals)

Have a nice day! ^^ or night if it’s late!

Yeah!! I was genuinely surprised at the amount of Wally x Reader stuff here but I'm all for it!

Also ngl I've been playing a lot of Untitled Goose Game recently so,,, this ask couldn't have come at a better time /pos

........

Barnaby

Honestly, when this lad first saw you emerge from the woods...he was about to run back home with his tail tucked between his legs. You gave him quite a fright!

You were a goose who was about Poppy's height--if not taller--with ragged greyed feathers and [e/c] eyes that look nearly bloodshot, your legs and bill having stitches, and some loose stuffing falling out of your main body.

All in all...you had a very intimidating disposition.

But when you approach Barnaby, it turns out you're just returning one of his juggling pins that he accidentally flung out into the forest.

"You best keep an eye on your juggling kits, dear." You speak in a gentle, raspy voice.

"Th-Thanks...are you from the barn too?"

"A different one. I used to be a guard for the little gooselings and other farm animals in my prime years but---oh..how about we walk and talk, hm? Do you live close by?"

And that's how Barnaby got to know you! He felt bad for judging you by your appearance, as while you look scary..you're just a sweet ol' geeser (yes he's made that pun a few times and you love it) whose kind heart and soul haven't gone anywhere.

You've come to care for everybody in the neighborhood, especially the big blue dog who sometimes gets into accidents while performing stunts.

In those cases, you always know how to nurse him back to health.

At some point, he and everybody else start to see you as a grandparent, calling you [Pa/Ma]...which makes you especially happy.

Sally

When you were younger, you saw her descend to earth, thinking it was just an ordinary shooting star.

You made a wish that you'll be able to find some good friends to spend the rest of your days with. Being a geese guard was a lonely job sometimes..

Many years later, you see that same star--now one who walked and talked--strolling through the forest near your barn. And you were ecstatic, wanting to introduce yourself!

Even though Sally's never met you till now, she's flattered to learn you wished upon her....and even happier to know she made that wish come true!

Your initial appearance surprised her, but she's eager to run back to town and introduce you to everyone!

So that's where you two head to, though as you're both talking (which is mostly her rambling about the next play she's performing tonight), an aggressive bear suddenly leaps out and roars, frightening her-

Until you hiss at it, extending your wings in a threatening manner, which immediately drove the beast back into the woods.

Then you turn back to the gawking star with the sweetest, most apologetic smile. "I'm sorry about that, dearie..do continue."

And she does for a little while, but you end up using that bear encounter as a teaching moment, showing her (and the others once you meet them) how to best defend themselves against possible bear attacks (or any wild animal attack in general). You made it your mission to keep these young folks safe.

Sally would definitely incorporate these lessons into her plays, which you grew to adore, refusing to miss a single one.

Wally

It was actually Poppy who introduced you to the gang, since you've watched over the barn she's lived in since she was a little baby bird. She basically considers you her parent.

You helped her out with her anxiety issues and baking mishaps over the years, so everybody warms up to you quick after learning your ties to each other.

Wally's no different. He's not too intimidated by your height nor raggedy feathers (man knows to respect his elders).

If anything, he's impressed that your felt and stuffing are still keeping you together, but offers to help you get patched up.

"Oh thank you, sweetie!" You croon. "You know..this town is blessed to have such a kind and handsome gentleman like yourself here."

Hearing that instantly melted his heart.

Soon enough, you get acquainted with the others and take care of them if they need help with anything.

Within the neighborhood, you ensure no wildlife breaks into the grocery store and makes off with any food (especially apples), always keeping watch.

Wally admires your nurturing and protective nature, knowing you're a very wise bird who offers the best advice..

Whenever he's lost on inspiration for art projects or just...feeling stressed over whatever, you're there to help him how ever you can.

When he got caught out in a rainstorm and got sick one day, you made him some delicious soup that helped him feel better within hours.

And of course, Home's happy to see you taking care of their owner. So you're always welcomed inside.

[iloveyoumorethansoup]

Giving me the email to the Senior Executive VP of Programming is definitely the worst thing to happen to that guy today

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

It was only supposed to be a one night stand (part 4, Option YES)

Tw: sexual mentions

damn was hoping u guys would choose no so i could like show off his more yandere aspects but i have enough braincells to only choose one path, anwyasyys ejoyy

Part 3, part 5

You can't believe you're considering it, but you definitely gave him hope. He grinned from ear to ear when you said that you're going to see what you could do. As someone living in a big city, commitment is like the boogeyman to you. Or maybe it's something you also yearn for, but the hookup culture around you makes it near impossible.

Montgomery seems... okay. You don't know how you're going to fare from being a workaholic single and freely fucking strangers from dating apps, to becoming a committed partner to a country bumpkin.

You thought about it and you definitely felt bad. You used him for his money even though he didn't have a lot in the first place, you used him for his body and his time. Yet he's not your boyfriend, he was still under the "friend with benefits" umbrella. Maybe he deserved the promotion, he was nothing but loving and kind to you.

He thanked you profusely and promised ad nauseum that you're going to be loved and have a good time.

You didn't want to eat any more of the soup. It's cold and congealed, you stood up and walked away. He frantically asked where you were going.

You said that you're tired and you didn't want any more of the soup. He offered to reheat it for you, but you didn't respond and retired to your bedroom.

It felt surreal to him and you. Over the following days, Montgomery stayed over at your place. He felt like he was in bliss because after years of hurting his back by sleeping in his cramped car, he gets to sleep in a comfortable bed for a longer period of time. He could stretch and not hit his hand against the roof.

You couldn't believe that you're practically letting him move in. You could be minding your own business and doing chores, and he would come from behind to hug and kiss you. He probably knew that you secretly liked it because your shoves and shouts no longer deter him. He would pick you up and twirl you around at the most random times.

It makes sense his cooking skills are close to none, he's been living in his car for a while now and his mother does the cooking at home. So his tastebuds are accustomed to the chock-full takeout of sodium, oil, and sugar. You tried being nice and cooked him a meal, which he appreciated a lot and finished. But when you're not looking, he would use up to a bottle of hot sauce a meal. You also wondered why your salt and sugar stores were depleting rapidly.

The one thing that confused you is that his presence is rarely felt in the bathroom. At least in the living room, kitchen, and bedroom, he has his own personal belongings strewn around. But not the bathroom aside from his toothbrush and toothpaste. You thought he used your soaps, but it wasn't running out as fast as you expected.

Until one day, you caught him entering the shower with a bottle of dishwashing detergent in his hand. You said nothing and waited to see what he would do.

Once he was done, he returned the liquid soap to the kitchen. Is that why his hair felt like broom bristles? It... does make sense, though. Dish soap can remove the toughest stains and it's cost efficient too especially with his occupation as a construction worker. But it's still bizarre to witness.

Though he can't cook to save his life, he makes the best sweet tea you ever tasted, even though you felt like it would give you diabetes induced gangrene for every sip you take. There is always a pitcher full of it in your fridge.

He drives you to work every single day, pecking you on the forehead goodbye and telling you that he's going to come by for lunch. You're not necessarily spending all your breaks with him though, but now you're considerate enough to tell him if you're going to be with your coworkers.

He would be sulkier and clingier than usual if you went out without him.

You wondered what he did for fun. Observing him wasn't giving you the information you wanted, because as soon as he comes back from a long day of work, he would collapse onto the sofa and doze off- that is if you're both not fucking each other.

He rarely takes days off because he needed the money to keep sustaining his takeout-fuelled lifestyle. Montgomery needs cash more than ever now because he has another mouth to feed, even though you rather cook your groceries instead.

Perhaps he doesn't understand. He said that you must be exhausted from working, cooking will only make your fatigue worse. You think he's forgetting you're working a desk job, not something that requires the calories in a bucket of double deep fried chicken.

"You work so hard everyday." He had a concerned look on his face when you shook your head at the pizza box. "You should rest instead of cooking. I have dinner covered."

He also covers lunch. And breakfast.

Breakfast is usually hotdogs or whatever food stalls are open nearby. Since he has access to your fridge and freezer, you note that he would eat the leftovers or stuff that you rejected. It seems like he reheated it before bringing it to work.

You're slowly accepting him into your life. Sometimes you would pack lunch for him and it never fails to make him kneel in front of you and kiss your knuckles. At least you know that he's grateful no matter how over the top his displays of appreciation were.

He may be messy at times, but he's a good man. He takes out the trash, he wash the dishes and he sweeps the floor. So you could forgive the occasional pair of paint-soiled pants lying on the floor. Unfortunately, your water and electric bills went up because he had to use your washing machine quite frequently. You complained to him about it, and he apologized and insisted on paying your utility bills from now on.

It was weird... to say the least when he spent a week beating himself up for being 'ungentlemanly'. When pressed what he meant by that, he said he felt embarrassed that you're providing for him, while it should be the other way round. So to give his manly pride back, he's also paying for your, student loans, mortgage, and groceries. And other miscellaneous subscriptions that weren't there before meeting him.

The weight of the expenses is visibly wearing him thin. But he keeps going, earning as much as he can to spoil you. More times than you can count, you had to console him because he was comparing himself to rich men in sports cars who could afford to pamper their partners with luxury. He kept thinking that he was this lowly cretin that couldn't even muster the funds to buy you a chic car. Completely dismissing the fact that his paycheck each week solely goes to your personal expenses and none to his savings. Sometimes borrowing fifty bucks from his coworkers just to get you a bouquet of roses that you may or may not have thrown into your compost bin.

You never asked for these costly, but romantic gestures. But he insisted, claiming it was a boyfriend's duty; even seemingly suffering from mental breakdowns if he didn't do them.

It confused you, did this all start because you told him off for using the washer too much? It's not like you blew up at him, you just told him to be mindful of his habits.

Then one day, when both of you had days off, he brought you to the mall to shop. He told you to get whatever you wanted, no price was too high for him. Except, you know at least two-thirds of the goods you eyed at was going to bring him to bankruptcy.

While looking at something from a window, you saw in your reflection, Montgomery watching something.

Shifting your eyes, you spotted him staring at a man carrying shopping bags upon shopping bags for his girlfriend. Then he brought his attention to a couple buying an expensive jewel-crusted necklace in a nearby store. There was a man who gave his husband a credit card, which he then happily pranced into the nearest smartphone store. A woman came out of a salon with fresh acrylic nails, they had intricate designs on it. Must have been pricy, but a man was the one who paid for her appointment, the woman then hooked her arm around an older gentleman's; pecking him on the cheek as they walked away.

He locked his eyes on a man with the most beautiful, long jet-black hair. Dressed head to toe in classy clothes, clacks from his heels reached Montgomery's ears as he walked past him. Not once sparing a glance at your boyfriend, deeming him too insignificant. The stranger adjusted the straps of his very obviously luxury bag on his shoulder. The man clearly extrudes wealth and elegance.

You saw Montgomery's shoulder sag, realizing that his shirt and chore jacket were old and relatively tattered, ruined by old stains. He brought his hands to his rough stubble and sun-spotted skin, he is nothing like the normal inhabitants here. He crossed hugged his arms and hunched his back, attempting to shrink himself.

At first, you didn't get what was he looking and reacting at, because you're used to the scene. Then you realized, he had probably never seen such things occur in his small hometown, he must have noticed it even more since you and he officially became a pair. Making him horribly insecure about his financial standing, he must have felt incredibly left out by the community in the city. Hence the crippling loneliness.

You wonder if you should say anything.

[compacflt]

in regard to the icemav convo about american made cars: I think it would be funny if after mav gets his regular license, ice buys him a truck that they can use for transporting stuff to the hangar and when he gifts it to mav all the man can do is laugh bc stamped across the ass is MAVERICK. It’s a 2023 ford maverick (in area 51 bc I’m partial to that color)

and mav likes it, but he doesn’t love driving it bc it’s so big (and he just likes being a passenger princess too much), so ice drives it mostly which inspires a whole lot of jokes about ice liking having maverick’s name stamped on his ass. bradley gags from the other room every time.

if it matters to u, i agree with this hc 150% on rhetoric grounds. thank god for your mind.

however i would like to raise the issue that recent american pickup trucks have become non-useful, overexpensive, and suburban-coded in a way i think ice and mav would reject. the ford maverick was built with the intention of dropping kindergarteners off at school, not of actually doing hard labor. see below infographic for what I mean.

It’s a fucking travesty. Trucks are so ugly and useless now. the maverick is not immune to this. (maverick below)

what good is having a fucking truck if it can’t even hold two REGULAR ASS BIKES in the bed. & when the bed is empty the chassis is unbalanced in a way that leads to more accidents etc. (tbf that was true in the 70s/80s too but im feeling more hateful towards modern trucks rn). In short—the modern American pickup truck is no longer useful, it’s a way to virtue signal to other Americans that you *think * you know what hard labor is, even when you’re driving around in a glorified odyssey with a teeny tiny bed that can barely hold a couple bags of mulch for the back garden

ice & mav don’t even have any little kids anymore, i think they’d consider a backseat useless & a waste of space

SO i would like to offer you a Compromise, which is that ice & mav buy either (or both) a 1974 ford maverick AND/OR a 1990 ford maverick

for the Funny Name & coolness factor (& the “making Bradley vom cause of how cute his parents are” factor), and then soup up, like, a 1984 Chevy C10 for actual towing/hauling purposes.