#does. does this answer you question beloved

[threadbearsweater]

lin dearest beloved... if you're still taking prompts!! could we see oliver with a black out or a messy makeup vanity?? and perhaps 🫣 nsfw if it fits!!! 🩷

cw: public fuckery, actor au. absolutely not proofread.

"Fifteen minutes to curtain!"

"Thank you fifteen!" a scattered chorus of voices calls back in answer. Twenty or so of your fellow actors rush to put together the last of their opening number outfits. The small, humid space does little to relax any of you. If anything, you're more on edge now that you're painfully aware of how little time you have left to get ready. It's suddenly louder and more intense as the tension builds. You can hear the crowd upstairs gathering in their seats through the monitors and your hand trembles so much that you have to steady it with your other one so you don't fuck up your eyeliner.

"Should have had that done an hour ago."

Your helpful co-star pulls up a chair beside you and straddles it backwards, smirking at you in such a way that his dimples make you dizzy. He surveys the state of your vanity with a click of his tongue and a disapproving shake of his stupid head.

"What do you want, Oliver?"

"That's a good question," he says, finding your eyes in the mirror and raising one brow just enough that you immediately know what he's going to propose. You pause and give him a petulant puff of air through your nose.

"In your dreams. We're on in ten minutes."

"Fourteen, actually. And I only need five."

Someone nearby gets a little trigger happy with a can of hairspray when you lay your brow pencil down and open your mouth to shoo Oliver away. You inhale and taste the aerosol on the back of your tongue when he leans over to kiss you. It's reckless and borderline pornographic, but you're so pliable and willing when he fits his hand under your jaw and tilts you up for a better angle.

Inches away, there's a collective groan of the remaining cast unfortunate enough to be in the room when Oliver lifts you to sit on the vanity table with your back to the mirror.

"Oliver–"

"I'll be quick–"

"We can't–" He's already got his hand worked under your tights. An open eyeshadow pallete digs into your ass cheek when pushes you back further against the mirror. Two tubes of lipstick roll to the floor with a clatter.

The stage manager calls again. "Ten minutes to curtain!"

"Thank you ten!" You choke on the words when Oliver shoves his tongue down your throat.

The orchestra begins to play the overture. You grind against Oliver's hand and squeeze your eyes shut so you aren't aware of anyone stupid enough to linger for a pre-show. Part of the thrill for you is being watched, and he knows this. He takes full advantage of your not-so-little secret and laughs against your cheek when he feels your pulse quicken under his fingertips.

"Hurry up," you whisper, opening your eyes just a sliver. A handful of your cast mates remain, but all of them are preoccupied. Or at least, they're pretending to be.

"You're in control, babe. I'm just your navigator."

You can't cum. Not here, not like this. You wish you were as uninhibited as the character you play on stage; sadly, you have a bit more self preservation. Not much, though.

Oliver persists, but you grab his wrist and shift yourself away, smearing your lipstick across his cheek. "Can't do it. Not here."

"Five minutes!"

"Thank you five!"

You're scrambling on the floor under your vanity for a rogue tube of lipstick. Oliver pinches your ass and scoots off. "Hurry up," he parrots. You flip him the bird without bothering to turn around.

He watches you like a lion watches his prey while you fix your lipstick and tuck your wig cap under a little more securely. And when you're ready, you race up the backstage stairs together; your legs tremble, your breath unsteady. Nerves. Arousal. Tension. You can hear the blood rushing through your veins as you and Oliver take your places in the backlit darkness. The music of the orchestra thrums beneath your feet, the cotton candy sweetness of the fog machine fills you with a nostalgic kind of anticipation.

Oliver makes a V with his fingers and wiggles his tongue between them.

"Intermission," you mouth. He smiles- it shines like forbidden treasure.

[qrovidcore]

Also a thought from my pillow: it strikes me that the environment Rincewind studied magic in was probably one where the experience (or appearance) of fear was seen as inherently negative- a certain paranoia vis a vis assassination encouraged, but fear seen as weakness, even a sign of unsuitability for the practice of magic. So "doing it scared" to borrow the Tumblr phrase, would be seen as embarrassing or even as a failure: "doing it wrong" because a lot of Disc magic is hand-in-glove with confidence/belief. So now I'm wondering how much of that definition of bravery/cowardice is part of Rincewind's self-definition.

“I remember you. Not much good as a student, as I recall. You never really trusted magic, you kept on saying there should be a better way to run a universe. Well, you’ll see.”

[vaguely-concerned]

I don't know what I love more, the fact that as rook you can make a statement in NO uncertain terms that you are NOT responsible one way or the other for the theological implications of the shit you're discovering in the 'regrets of the dread wolf' memories. not my jurisdiction. quite simply none of my business. not my chantry circus not my chantry monkeys. irrelevant to the matter at hand here we'll kill that god if we get to him he can get in line. or if the best thing about it is seeing the lone little 'lucanis approves' that pops up right after choosing it. corvid with a knife about to commit deicide keeping it real and sensibly, pragmatically, wilfully agnostic with me here in this magical lighthouse today

[vigilskept]

for blorbo bleebus give us a loghain and a velanna...

answered for loghain here!

my best friend.............. my rotten soldier............ my sweet cheese............

[bittersweetresilience]

top 5 favorite desserts?

(either for yourself or for renjing, jing yuan seems the type to have a sweet tooth. or just a guy who likes to eat in general with all the dumplings he has for breakfast hehe)

HE IS SO THE TYPE TO HAVE A SWEET TOOTH HNGAJNGJKGNJfnjnnfJNAFjnfsgDNa wis honkai thoughts in my inbox i am so lucky...

berrypheasant skewers omg i'm obsessed with yingjing and renjing aurum alley dates... they're basically tanghulu which i actually don't like. what i do like are tanghulu but when when it's strawberries instead of hawberries. so delicious and sweet and crunchy

i think jing yuan would love a good 双皮奶... i don't know how to translate this but it's like milk pudding. so in the xianzhou it'd be puffergoat milk pudding. but it'd have to be hot. a similar foreign dessert would be a crème brûlée... he likes milk give him milk desserts

sweet red bean soup... warm and classic comforting dessert after a nice meal... i think he'd like this more than tangyuan because he doesn't like when foods are overly sticky and have to be chewed for a long time. i feel strongly that this is true about him.

delicate floral desserts like 桂花糕 osmanthus cakes... nice texture and light on the tongue, perfect for simple refined tastes. he would be so pretty having these while sitting by a window or in a garden with flowers in his hair and blade watching him lovingly i'm getting off topic

i don't know if jing yuan would like this but i'm getting a craving for 凤梨酥 pineapple pastries so i'm putting it here

oh addition. blade doesn't care what he eats but he does like watching jing yuan eat because he gets so cute when he's happy

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

⚠️ - If this oc came with a warning sign, what would it be? ☔ - How does this oc feel about rain? -> for lucius

🦷 - Would this oc ever bite someone? 💛 - Are they ‘good with children’, or more awkward? -> for an oc of your choice!

hello!! thanks for asking!! referencing this post:

⚠️ - If this oc came with a warning sign, what would it be? (lucius)

"CAUTION: CLEVER DUMBASS" in the biggest, brightest, UV-flecked letters out there (fine print: "this individual WILL do inadvisable shit at the drop of a birdkid off a cliff, no you will not have time to blink, yes he can safely fall that far, no that's not the only thing that will surprise you, proceed with caution")

☔ - How does this oc feel about rain? (lucius)

he loves non-compulsory rain, by which i mean he likes to Enjoy and Appreciate Storms, but he does NOT (!!) appreciate being required to Do Things in it. he likes to curl up with a book and tea when it's real bad out there, and he has been known to enjoy the occasional rainy run on his own terms, but he WILL make Very Bad Decisions if someone oasis demands that he Participate In Activities In Rain.

🦷 - Would this oc ever bite someone? (dealer's choice)

jorge has and would (although not lately). driscoll, my beloved monster child to whom i am returning next month, has one (1) close call, and feels bad about it for the rest of their very long life. (jury's still out on whether or not FarFuture!Driscoll bites marshall or crimson, although i'm currently leaning toward nah--biting your fellow semi-eldritch horrors is the recourse of those who can't do Weirder Shit although we could do Weird Biting, i spose.)

💛 - Are they ‘good with children’, or awkward? (dealer's choice)

jorge is good with kids! driscoll actually is, too, although they sometimes feel awkward around them (because driscoll can't always tell how old a kid is and/or how much they can handle, and dealing with Tiny Humans and their Huge Feelings during Active Misplacement Events with a side of Monster Activity is. fraught.).

thanks again for asking!!

[neigepomme]

˙ ✩°˖ ✈️ mine / caleb x reader

synopsis; your beloved caleb is a deeply, deeply secretive (and dense) man, who somehow refuses to call you his. when you bring it up out of frustration, he ends up giving you more than what you asked for. but who would say no to that?

🍎 pomme's notes - the apple demons took over or something. i love my stupid self deprecating emo king

⋆ 2.1k words / angst-ish (kinda) into suggestive..? caleb is stupid / fem reader / 2nd person

you quickly realize that caleb never refers to you as his.

well, not quite. he'll say "my girlfriend", or "my partner" or maybe even "my pipsqueak". but that's the extent of it. he won't ever say "mine".

after you notice that, you decide to up the ante on your side. if he won't say it unprovoked, surely he'll say it to reciprocate you, right?

and so, you get started on your masterful plan.

leaving lipstick marks on his shirts and going "mine" when he sees them in his bathroom's mirror. tracing a finger down his chest and saying "all mine" with a flirty tone after he's done working out.

hell, you'll even up the PDA when you're out with him and tell a girl that's hitting on him off, simply by grabbing his face and going "mine".

but why the hell won't he call you his?

on the other hand, caleb is going insane from all of the times you called him yours.

the angels blessed him or something, he thinks. his beautiful, stunning, showstopping, gorgeous girlfriend calling him hers. if he wasn't happy about it, he'd be the stupidest man in existence. but thankfully, when it comes to loving you, caleb is the first in the class.

when you get jealous over girls hitting on him and you shoo them off, just by staring them down and calling him yours, he feels like he could melt into the ground and become a big puddle of pipsqueak lovin' caleb.

it makes him think that maybe, just maybe, he could call you his in return. but he quickly chased that thought out of his mind; his love wasn't as pure as yours. you called him yours innocently, with no real strings attached. you didn't entertain thoughts of keeping him away from everyone and everything. of making yourself his entire universe. not like he did.

and so, he refused to call you his, out of fear that he would imprison you in a cage he forged with his own hands. when life clipped his wings, he swore to himself that he'd do anything to make you keep yours forever. his evol would be used to make you float freely, never to chain you to the ground.

well, that was until you confronted him about it.

freshly out of the shower, you walked over to him when he was reviewing some files as he laid in your bed. he smiles when he sees you and sets down the files that previously occupied his attention.

"need me to dry your hair, pips?"

"why won't you call me yours, caleb?"

he chokes at how out of left field that question was and starts coughing. fuck, so you did notice, he thinks.

"am i.. am i not enough? i'll try harder, i promise, but i just. i don't know what i'm missing. it's like you love me, but there's always something missing, and i've been trying to figure it out, but i'm at my wits' end caleb. it's been driving me crazy and i tried so hard to get you to call me yours but it's ju-"

"baby, slow down. you're not missing anything, i can tell you that for sure."

you huff in frustration, dissatisfied with his answer. this is so unfair — you're wearing your damn heart on your sleeve, and yet caleb is not letting you see a sliver of his. you know he loves you, obviously, he's not the kind to fake it all.

but why can't he devote his love entirely to you? why's he so closed off? why does he draw boundaries for you, when all he could do was act on them? you were an adult, you could handle it.

sensing your frustration, he runs a hand through his hair and grabs your wrist, making you sit on the bed next to him. he inhales before explaining himself.

"look, i do love you. you know that, right? i love you more than anything on this damn earth. if you asked me to bring you the moon, i'd get the stars while i'm at it, just to make you happy."

"then why won't you ever call me yours? am i not worthy of being by your side?"

he shakes his head furiously, as if you've offended him by even asking this question.

"pips, you just don't understan-"

"help me understand, caleb! stop shutting me out! i'm capable of hearing it, and i want this — i want us to work! i call you mine, my boyfriend, my love, my best friend, for god's sake, caleb, you're my everything! and i'm just pipsqueak to you? is this some sick joke?"

caleb freezes. what if he comes clean, and you see him in a different light? what if you decide to shut him out, because he's too much? he wouldn't be able to handle it, especially not after he experienced domestic bliss with you.

what is he supposed to say now? bring back how he wishes that he could keep you away from the life you knew, especially when you fought with him to express how you loved living in this world intent on hurting you? how, despite every hurdle life threw at you, you loved living and giving back to those around you? he couldn't do that. not at the risk of driving you away again.

and so he resorts to giving you vague expressions and feelings, in hopes that you'll be satisfied with his usual mystical answers.

"no, no it's not baby. please. i just don't think i can let you know everything yet — you're just so earnest with how you love and my love's nowhere near as kind or pure as yours."

now it's your turn to stare in disbelief. you scoff, taken aback by whatever bullshit your boyfriend just spouted. your love is too pure? what the hell does he think you are, mother theresa? he might just be dumber than what you expected. you inhale sharply, getting ready to unload all the frustration you've been keeping at bay on him. you've loved the guy for your entire life, and somehow, he still thinks that the extent of your love is a PG13 romance movie: cuddling together, and maybe, just maybe, some kissing here and there.

him not taking you seriously and underestimating your love for him somehow angers you more than if you were actually missing something he wanted in a relationship.

"too pure? for fuck's sake caleb, i have needs too! we're not in middle school anymore, are we? i want to have sex with you! i want us to take the next damn step in this relationship! do you not want me like that?"

when he tries to defend himself, you shut him down immediately.

"no, let me finish! i get jealous when you get hit on by other girls! sometimes, i wish i could make it so that i'm the only person you know and talk to, i wish that i could keep you away from others!"

you breathe hard. there are so many thoughts spinning in your head and you just see his purple eyes staring deep at you, as if he's trying to scan how you feel — and that makes you even angrier.

how is it that he didn't take your words at face value right now? why's he trying to read into "the deeper meaning of them" by looking into your eyes, as if they were being more honest than you were being?

caleb, who was the smartest in his class at the DAA, the boy who tutored you through the harder math problems in high school, seemed so damn dense right now.

his mouth opened and closed, as if trying to figure out what to even respond with, but you didn't allow him to do that just yet.

"i love how you're always sweet. i love how you care about me more than you care about yourself. you're so perfect. but i'm so sick of pretending like we're 6th graders in love. do you even know how long i've loved you for? you've been the only one on my mind since we knew each other, caleb. god, even when i thought about dating a guy, i'd always end up looking at those who looked like you. i looked for you in every guy i thought about hitting up."

his jaw tensed at the information. you looked for him in other guys? when this whole time, he was right there, building up the courage to ask you to be more than whatever you were at the time?

he felt like his brain was going to overheat from just how many facts were thrown at him. you wanted to keep him away from the world? fuck, you wanted to have sex with him? he'd dreamt of it, of course he had. when he was back at the DAA and the guys would share their stupid porn recommendations, and he'd never be able to watch anything unless the actress looked a bit like you. even then, he'd felt so guilty.

and you wanted him like that?

and then here you were, sat in front of him. letting all of your frustrations and concerns and feelings out in the open. and caleb felt so guilty — so stupid, really. you were trying so hard to get through to him, dropping hints left and right, and he couldn't even reciprocate that.

so he decided that for once, he'd let go. he'd indulge himself in you, allow himself to take a bite of the apple he forbade himself from ever touching. if you were a trial sent to him by a higher being, then man, was he failing, but if the cost of failure was a taste of you, then he would happily take the loss. again and again and again and again.

you were eurydice and he was orpheus. always looking back, always falling deeper into hell's embrace if it meant one more moment with you.

and if caleb denied himself this — then he'd both be a heartless, cruel man, and an idiot. and he wasn't going to be either of those, not anymore.

so, he did what he does best.

he acted upon it.

"i just feel like i'm not being heard ou- mmph!"

you were on the verge of tears, salty drops lining your lash line when you felt his lips on yours. caleb pounced on you, pinning you down.

devoted, passionate, and a secret third thing.

desperate? who knows. who cares, really. not when he's got you sprawled out under him, reciprocating his kiss. for once, he kissed you like he was hungry for more. like you were his lifeline — not like the soft kisses you were used to.

he groans into your mouth, feeling you grow hotter as you grasp at anything you could hold onto. the sheets, his arms, his neck — and when you settle on clawing at his back during this tempest of a kiss, he thinks he sees the gates of heaven.

breathless, he pulls back and looks at you with a look that could only be defined as hungry.

"i don't love you enough? i'd destroy this damn world in a heartbeat if you asked me to. i'd keep you away from anything that could be dangerous, i'd make you rely on me only — always."

he dives back in, sucking harshly on the side of your neck. littering bites and hickeys on there, caleb could devour you whole. you can't help the sounds that escape you, not when you hear him mutter "mine, all mine. my only one, mine, mine, mine" like a prayer in between kisses.

you gasp, dragging your nails down his back in an attempt to ground yourself as he moves down to your collarbone area. caleb takes a second to breathe, and you hear him speak lowly.

"you are, so, so silly. me, not want you enough? if i were to reveal what i wanted to do to you, you'd be crawling away from this room at all costs. do you know just how much i've held back?"

he kisses your lips again, softer this time, but just as passionate. you're out of breath, mind hazy at the sudden show of possessiveness. caleb is finally, finally fulfilling your wish. who care about work tomorrow and having to hide hickeys? you've only got one thing on your mind, and it's the man latching onto the soft skin of your neck again. he all but growls this time.

"mine. all mine, mine and mine only. is that what you wanted to hear? i'll show you, yeah? neither of us is leaving this room until i make you understand that i want you just as much as you want me — hell, if i don't want you even more, pretty girl."

you nod frantically, feeling like you're on cloud 9.

turns out you were his all along.

he just needed a strongly worded pep talk to understand that.

🍎 pomme's final notes - can i be honest this is so self-indulgent. i want to reach into the screen and beat him up because of how stupid he sounds sometimes like i get it but also you're so sexy and how can you be so dumb like omfg get a GRIP!! STAND UPPPPPPP im pulling my hair out

also maybe one day i'll write smut. i feel like i go insane thinking about caleb and then i cant write for him beyond suggestive stuff so instead i just rock back and forth like a crazy person

[snowballseal]

Tipsy Tricks

Sylus X Reader

Summary: You and Sylus agree to focus on work for a little bit, meaning you don't have time to see each other. That is...until you get a panicked call from the twins saying their boss is drunk and needs someone to cuddle with.

Word Count: 1836

Note: FLUFF - Sylus is drunk, but honestly, I feel like he can handle his alcohol well so he does a bit of acting. It's all just to get your attention and he's a little more clingy. Also, Luke and Kieran my beloveds.

---

“Miss, we need your help!”

You blink at the sudden shout that comes through your phone the moment you answer it.

“Luke?”

“Please Miss! Boss is not acting himself!”

“Kieran? Wait- hold on, just-”

“Ah! We’re too late!”

“Please Miss, come save us!”

You blink again as the call ends just as abruptly.

What the-?

You stare at the now dark screen for a long moment, just trying to process what happened. It’s late, late enough that you’re already dressed in your pajamas and winding down in bed. The last thing you were expecting was to get such a panicked call from Luke and Kieran.

What were they even talking about? Why do they need saving? Is something wrong with Sylus?

The thought wedges into your chest like a thorn, sharp and uncomfortable. You hadn’t heard from the Onychinus leader - your lover - in a few days due to his busy schedule. Neither of you liked it, but you agreed it was best he just focus on work, and you’d do the same to keep yourself occupied.

Getting a call like this only makes your anxiety skyrocket.

You don’t even bother wasting the time to change, throwing a coat over your pajamas and snatching your keys as you hurdle out the door. 

---

“Miss!!! Oh you’ve come to save us, thank you!”

Luke and Kieran throw the door open before your knuckles even touch it. You jump back, chest heaving from having run all the way from the transport station. They look just as frazzled, well, as frazzled as two men in masks can look. 

“What’s wrong? Is Sylus okay? Why are you guys freaking out?” You shoot out questions quickly, grabbing one of the twins by the shoulders. “You guys were infuriatingly cryptic over the phone! Seriously, who calls in the middle of the night like that?”

“We’re sorry,” Luke leans in, trying to rescue his brother from your vicious grip, “We just didn’t know what to do. Boss hardly ever gets like this!”

“He kept talking about you so we figured you could help us,” Kieran insists, ducking away with the help of his brother.

“Okay, but what’s wrong? Is he hurt?” You press for more details, concern only growing. “What happened to make him act weird?”

“He’s drunk.”

…

Your jaw shuts with an audible click, going tense as you stare at them incredulously. Seriously? All of this, all of the panic, the urgency, because Sylus got drunk? You take a deep, slow breath, trying to ease the immediate desire to knock their heads together.

“Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that you called me. In the middle of the night. After I had settled down for bed. Screaming bloody murder over the phone. Because Sylus had too much to drink?”

“...yes.”

“That’s right.”

You close your eyes. Another deep breath. Slowly, the panic that had washed over you recedes, leaving a sliver of irritation and amusement. You really should expect nothing less from them.

“Okay,” you sigh and prop your hands on your hips. The two seem to relax, like they had actually expected you to smack them. Which you might have, if they hadn’t sounded truly distressed earlier. “So why is this such a bad thing? Sylus is an adult, he can handle being a little drunk, but you two are acting like the world is ending. Why?”

“Well you see-”

“Boss gets incredibly physical when he’s drunk-”

“Not in a violent way-”

“Unless he’s around people he doesn’t like.”

“Right.”

You blink slowly at them, “...so?”

“It’s scary!” Kieran crows.

“It’s like having a kodiak bear trying to give you a hug!” Luke adds, curling his fingers in a gesture you’re sure is meant to mimic said bear.

“We love the boss, but we can’t handle him like this.”

“And he kept asking for you! So we called.”

Ah.

You take a moment to really process all of it. Sylus is drunk. Sylus is a touchy drunk…

It’s too good to pass up on

“Alright, boys,” you hum, an excited grin slowly spreading across your lips. You clap both of them gently on the shoulder. “I’ll take it from here. You can go hide wherever you usually do.”

“Thank you, Miss.”

“We knew calling you was the right decision. Please take care of our boss.”

“I’ll do my best.”

The twins skitter off as soon as you let them go, leaving you alone in the foyer. You quietly slip your coat off, hanging it up properly before making your way further into the base. Not knowing exactly where Sylus could be, you check all the obvious places. The bar. His bedroom. The kitchen. All of which are empty.

Finally you come to the den. Each step makes your heart race a little quicker, the thick silence putting you on edge. A drunk person shouldn’t be so hard to find. But as you step into the room, looking over every nook and cranny (despite how large the man in question is), you once again find it empty.

Where on earth could he be?

“My, my, a kitten’s wandered into my home.” You nearly jump out of your skin when an arm curls around your waist, drawing you back against a solid chest. The familiar warmth of his touch is like a balm to your nerves. You glance over your shoulder, gaze meeting a pair of sleepy vermillion eyes, their depths hazy and dark. “You broke our agreement, sweetie.”

You bite back a smile, “Maybe I wouldn’t have had to if a certain someone hadn’t gotten tipsy and scared the boys.”

Sylus huffs, his face dipping to nuzzle into the crook of your neck in an uncharacteristically soft show of affection. His breath is dizzyingly warm against your skin, his nose tracing featherlight along the column of your throat, like he’s breathing you in. It makes you feel dizzy. You clutch onto his arm to anchor yourself, breath hitching when his lips press tenderly against your racing pulse. 

“I’ve missed you.” 

The words are a mere whisper, the sound rumbling through his chest, so deep you can feel it with how his body leans into yours. You let out a shuddering breath, eyes flickering shut.

“I missed you too, Sy.”

So much. You didn’t want to admit to yourself just how much his absence had been wearing you down. Little by little until you could feel the gaping emptiness, like a stream carving a canyon. You were homesick. And it makes your heart flutter to know he felt the same.

“How about we sit, huh?” You suggest softly, and his arms tighten. Turning your head, despite the awkward angle, you press a reassuring kiss to his silvery locks, “I’m not going anywhere, love. I can’t support your weight much longer, though.”

Seemingly appeased, Sylus lets out an understanding hum. In a puff of black smoke, you find yourself settled on the couch, your back pressed into the soft leather with Sylus laying on top of you, his arms still curled around your waist, head resting on your chest. He nuzzles into you like a cat, letting out a long, drawn out sigh.

It’s adorable really. And jarring. While Sylus has never shied away from being affectionate, it’s always been in his rough, teasing way. This feels tender. Vulnerable. While you were originally planning to tease him to no end, you find yourself overwhelmed with a gentle kind of adoration for the man, your fingers softly fussing with his hair.

“You know, I think I like this side of you.”

“Hmmm, is that so?” Sylus mumbles sleepily, his eyes barely open as he gazes up at your face.

“Yah,” you breathe, tracing the relaxed line of his brow, fingers skimming down his cheek to brush the corner of his lips, “You’re acting so cute and docile. Maybe I should start calling you kitten.”

Even sleepy Sylus won’t let that stand. The second your fingers graze his lips, he nips at them, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you snatch them back, inhaling sharply. Heat curls in your chest, matching the heat burning behind his gaze as he flashes you that lazy yet dangerous smile.

“Don’t mistake my affection for passivity, sweetie,” he rumbles, pushing himself up just enough to graze his lips against yours, the smell of expensive alcohol and his rich cologne clouding your senses. “You should be more wary of a man when his restraints are loose. There’s no telling what he might do once you fall for his trap.”

Ah. You hold back a giggle, eyes narrowing up at him with mirth. So that’s what this was all about.

“Trap, huh? Is that what this was? Did you get tipsy and scare the twins on purpose so they’d call me?”

Sylus doesn’t look ashamed for even a second, offering a nonchalant shrug. The way his ears go red, though, tells you that you’ve hit the nail on the head.

“Aw, you did all that just cause you missed me?” Reaching up, you loop your arms around Sylus��� shoulders and draw him even closer. Your lips brush his as you murmur, “You could have just called, pretty bird.”

“And what fun would that be?” Sylus tilts his head, eyes flickering down to your lips. 

He wants to kiss you breathless, the sensation of your lips ghosting against his driving his already muddled thoughts wild. The way you look under him, hair a mess, dressed in such cute pajamas, is a perfectly tempting image, but it’s the fact that he can’t quite think straight that makes him hold back. While getting drunk was certainly a good way to get you here, it was not conducive to anything else he might want.

And simply having you by his side is enough.

You sigh as Sylus presses a sweet kiss to your lips. Unlike most of your kisses, this one isn’t about passion or hunger. Intense, yes, but intense in a way that feels like devotion. It’s reverent and slow, leaving a lingering hum under your skin as he draws away.

“Will you stay?”

Fondly, you rub your nose against his ever so slightly, “Of course.”

“Good.”

Sylus lowers himself back into you, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. Your arms loop around him, fingers going back to his hair. The silence that envelops you is comforting, the only sound being that of your mingled breath. His warmth covers you so completely, you can’t help but relax, eyelids growing heavier with each second that ticks by. Sylus’ breathing steadily grows deeper, lulling you further and further into sleep. Until you slip under, your lips pressed to his temple as you fall asleep.

And that’s how Luke and Kieran find you the next morning. Cuddled up, with their boss curled around you protectively, like two lounging cats.

You wake up to a notification on your phone.

The picture immediately becomes your new background.

(And secretly, Sylus also makes it his, too.)

---

Hope you enjoyed, my lovely fishies!!!

[onlyswan]

summary: in which for you, jungkook would commit crimes and his mother would peel oranges.

idol!jk x reader | fluff, angst | word count: 9.5k

warnings/content: oc passes out in the shower / jk does something crazy i’m literally insane about this / baby bam cameo 🥺 / stitches >:( / blood draw / mention of speeding / jealous not but rlly jealous oc is pissed owfffff at the nurse who has a crush on jk lmao / jk and his mom loves them to death tho so obv who wins / love is beautiful let’s all cry <3

> in which masterlist!

note: *sitcom sound effect of crowd cheering* I’M BACK 🥰 hope u enjoy the product of my madness during finals season hehehe. and special thanks to my cutieful proofreader rio!! you’re one of my most favorite people i’ve ever met 🥺💕 + my beloveds who came to the rescue when i had medical questions !! i didn’t expect to receive help from soooo many and i’m so freaking grateful i could cri :")

—

“i ordered it the other day. how did it arrive so early?”

jungkook walks back inside the apartment, arms occupied by a stack of boxes that arrived in the mail yesterday.

he arrives at the living room, head tilting to the side in confusion when he realizes that the netflix show he was watching on the television is no longer playing. instead, there is the news channel.

he gasps.

“baby, you’re alive!”

your swollen eyes flicker up to him.

you’re lying on the sofa with your legs lazily dangling on the edge. there’s a toothbrush in your mouth, foam of bubbles between your lips, but your arm barely exerts the energy to make it do its job.

“you were asleep from afternoon to morning. do you know that? you’ve never done that before!” he exclaims, carelessly tossing the boxes on the floor. “i was getting scared!”

you only hum to acknowledge his existence, pushing yourself up from the sofa and unknowingly dodging the hug your boyfriend wanted to greet you with.

he ends up collapsing face first on the empty space you left, hurt and offended.

the bathroom door opens and closes.

he flips over, whining. “yah, we didn’t see each other for a day. didn’t you miss me?!”

still not a single word from you. sleeping that long must not have cured your exhaustion, jungkook surmises. you tend to be glum and cranky when you’re feeling unwell, as is usually the case when you wake up as unrested as before.

he doesn’t always know how to make you feel better, but he always tries anyway.

“our new bedsheets arrived!” he announces from the other side of the bathroom door, making himself loud so that you can hear him despite the shower running. “do you want to unbox them with me?!”

he allows the seconds to pass, but with his hands on his hips, he eventually begins to tap his foot on the floor.

“baby? may i go in?”

he turns the knob, just to be prepared incase the answer is a yes, but it doesn’t turn. a sad pout forms on his face.

huh? why is it locked?

you must genuinely don’t want to be bothered today.

“guess that’s a no.” he mutters to himself before calling out to you. “okay, i’ll wait for you!”

with a crestfallen sigh, he begins to walk back to the living room.

he doesn’t go far, however.

only several steps later, a series of loud crashes is heard from the bathroom and his heart thunders in his chest with a combination of numbing shock and fear.

“____, what was that?! did you fall?!”

he aggressively pounds at the door, extremely desperate this time around. he has no plans on leaving until he knows that you’re safe and sound.

“baby! open this! are you alright…? are you hurt? you’re scaring me. please, answer!”

he pauses, catching his breath as his mind runs a thousand miles per hour.

“____!”

he strikes the door with an open palm one more time, more so to express his frustration that is only growing worse with every tick of the clock. he only ends up hurting himself in the process.

“that’s it! i’m opening the door!”

he frantically whips his head around, racking his brain for the location of the key. there are two copies of it somewhere in the apartment, but in his panicked state, he is unable to pinpoint either of their specific spots. and he can’t fucking afford to waste any more time.

“ah, fuck!” he curses, left with no other choice but to give in to the instinct of breaking down the door with the strength and durability of his body alone.

he would most definitely break his shoulder first before the door.

only after the first try, that much is clear.

and so, with madness inconsiderate of his agony, he resorts to kicking it over and over again.

the repeated loud collisions rattles poor bam from his slumber. not long after, the dog’s barking creates a booming dissonance with his grunts and kicks at the door.

when it finally swings open, the force of his own body sends him stumbling on the bathroom floor, but he doesn’t waste time in bouncing back to his feet.

the twisting of his stomach is instantaneous.

there lies your naked, unconscious figure behind the glass— surrounded by bottles of hair and body products that must have fallen when your hands were searching for something to hold on to.

his voice cracks, breathless.

“baby, no… no, no, no.”

he kneels on the floor, and despite the strong urge to carry you out of there, he tries to calm down. it’s the first rule in every emergency case; professionals reiterate in seminars and news channel segments.

keep calm. keep calm. keep calm.

he won’t be able to forgive himself if he ends up causing more harm than good.

“____, can you hear me?!”

his instinct tells him to inspect every inch of you for any sign of injury, but then his vision becomes too blurry. he curses at the hindrance and forces himself to turn off the showerhead that was left running.

he harshly wipes his face, rushing back to you.

“please, please, please. wake up.” he begs.

he has a feeling that it’s futile. you can’t hear him and he’s wasting his breath. the thing is he doesn’t know what else to do.

“baby…”

he carefully turns your head over, almost relieved because he hasn’t seen blood so far.

almost.

at last, he gets a full view of your face, and he finds blood dripping. this has always been one of his most paralyzing fears— seeing you get hurt. now that it’s become a reality, there’s a part of him that wants to believe this is some kind of twisted dream.

“how- how did this even happen…?” he cries out, his own blood running cold.

for everything that happens after, his body acts on its own. bam is a constant presence in his peripheral, but he is barely in his right mind to acknowledge the presence aside from, “bam, move. daddy might step on you.”

he carries you out of the bathroom, kicking aside the beaten up door. he has made up his mind about bringing you to the hospital, but he can’t bring you like… this.

he lays you down on the bed, all that gentleness switched off in a split second so he can sprint to the walk-in closet. he hastily grabs whatever is on top of your neatly folded stacks of shirts and pants; and then a fresh towel on the way out. the gentleness returns as he pats your face dry, the pure white stained with dark red. he flips the towel and uses the other side to wipe the rest of your body, in a race against time but mindful of treating you like fragile glass.

once that is over, he dresses you in a pair of gray sweatpants, and with some difficulty, an orange t-shirt.

any person with functioning eyes will be able to tell that the shades don’t go together.

if you were conscious, you’d definitely berate him for making you wear this outfit.

but you’re not.

jungkook effortlessly swoops you in his arms— dripping wet hair, his and yours, leaving behind a trail of raindrops from your apartment floor to the cemented parking lot.

—

your body feels like it’s floating.

are you dreaming…?

you must be dreaming.

you hear an uncoordinated symphony of voices, but you can’t comprehend a word. in pursuit of clarity, you force yourself to open your eyes.

the voices grow a little louder. faceless figures hover you; a bright light shines over your face.

your senses must be playing cruel tricks. now it feels like you’re drowning, sinking into the unknown, and your body has succumbed into numbing defeat.

you want to sleep a little more.

you must truly be exhausted. it’s okay.

you’ve fought hard until now. you’ve done enough… has anyone tried in life as much as you did?

just as your eyes flutter shut, you regain sensation of your hand; a soft squeeze and a call of your name.

—

jungkook gently strokes your hair, sighing for the nth time since you got transferred to a private room. he’s relieved that all the scans came back clean so serious head and brain injuries have been ruled out. the doctor also asked him questions and ran some other tests before concluding that electrolyte imbalance caused you to pass out; the culmination of stress and fatigue from work, as well as your strong period, most likely being the main reasons. he didn’t even know about the latter until you stained the white sheets with blood.

it was fucking frightening being in the sidelines as they rushed to check on your vitals and to administer oxygen. even now, it’s unbearable to see you with a needle in your hand and a few stitches above your eyebrow. he already anticipated you not being pleased with having to get stitches specifically either; gasping and sitting up as soon as you heard the word come from his lips post-consciousness. consequently, the dizziness hits you. the doctor wasn’t happy about that.

“this is so annoying. i don’t want a scar.” you whine as you study your face on the camera of jungkook’s phone. “did i have to fall on my prettier side?”

“what are you saying? you’re pretty from any angle.” he interjects. “be careful. the wound might open up.”

you jut out your bottom lip, looking up at him with glassy eyes. the sight instantly tugs at his heartstrings, and he pulls you in for a hug. maybe he’s a little sad that you don’t appear concerned about the fact that you passed out, but god is he relieved to finally hear your voice again.

“ah, i should call the doctor.”

but his face remains buried in your hair.

“they told me to do so.”

“you should-”

“why?!” he abruptly reacts, drawing back. “does anything hurt?”

“chill. you said that they told you to.”

“oh, that’s right.” he sheepishly smiles. he can’t help but to overreact; he hasn’t turned off the alarms in his head. “i’ll go tell the nurse to get her.”

he starts to walk towards the door, but a tug at his shirt holds him back.

you shyly look at him with a scrunch of your nose. “i’m nervous. hug me for five more seconds.”

fuck, he would move heaven and earth to protect you from everything that can cause you harm.

“why would you be nervous? i’m right here.” he scolds you lightheartedly, not hesitating to seize the chance to hug you again. “i love you.”

“i love you more.”

you pull away after five seconds, and he’d be disappointed about you being too true to your words if you didn’t kiss him on the cheek so ardently.

his heart almost jumps out of his chest when you gasp out of nowhere as if you just realized that you left the gas tank open at home. your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

“bam!”

oh, right. your child.

“my brother’s house!” he eases your mind.

you breathe out in relief, the heel of your palm pressing against the left side of your chest where your heart lives. “good… i was worried. he was probably more scared because he didn’t understand what was going on. i feel bad.”

you love bam so much; it makes him so happy. you’re so concerned about him even when you’re the one on the hospital bed. you make pretty good parents, huh?

“that’s right. he was worried about you, too. that’s why you need to recover quickly so he won’t be sad!”

—

the doctor kindly asked jungkook to give the two of you some time alone, so he’s been idly sitting at the lobby after buying a bottle of water. he’s pretty much used to visiting the hospital for routine checkups considering the nature of his job, but it always feels strange to be here for the other different purposes of the place.

is there any other building sadder than this?

if you heard him utter this question, he could easily predict what you’d say: but is there any other building with more love?

if he tries hard enough, he could listen to your voice and paint you in his mind.

you see love in every place that you step foot into.

his curious eyes continue to wander around. he spots people carrying flowers, baskets, and containers of food. there’s also a teenage boy in his high school uniform, carrying a teddy bear larger than him.

not that he wants you to stay longer, but if you have to, he writes down a mental note to bring one of your favorite plushies.

he eventually gets tired; considers scrolling on his phone again, but he decides against it when his gaze lands on a little boy sleeping soundly on his mother’s lap. suddenly, he is reminded of his childhood before he moved to seoul.

how simple life can be when you’re innocently sleeping on your mother’s lap, trusting that everything will be alright.

“ah, i miss my mom…” he utters absentmindedly. “i miss my mom so much. i should call her.”

his reminiscing is interrupted when a wheelchair rolls by infront of him. it is leisurely being pushed by an old man who wants to bring his wife outside for some fresh air.

in a parallel universe somewhere, jungkook can imagine them as you and him.

he sits up straight, looking back at the clock on the wall.

how long has it been? he wants to be by your side again.

—

“jungkook!” your face lights up as soon as your boyfriend steps into the room. “what took you so long?”

“i know. sorry, baby. i got a little distracted outside.”

“i’ve been waiting.” you pout. “why? were people bothering you?”

“not at all. don’t worry.”

you pat the empty space beside you. “here.”

“i think the bed is meant for only one person- damn, okay, okay-”

he swiftly gives in upon seeing the hurt on your face, occupying the space you reserved for him. “i love you. don’t be sad.”

you’re aching too much to wait for him to get settled. you wrap your arms around his waist like you’re a magnet attracted to steel, clinging to him for comfort.

if you’re being honest, you don’t know how you feel about being in this situation. overwhelmed? maybe a tiny bit relieved. in the past, it didn’t matter whether you were sick or not. you needed to work or else it was guaranteed that you wouldn’t survive. life is easier now. you have the luxury to use this as a reason to take a break. you have someone who takes care of you as naturally as he breathes.

“how was the doctor?”

“she’s nice… she just asked me about the things i remember before i passed out. then about my work, diet, sleeping schedule… stuff like that.”

you pull away a little, just enough so you can see each other’s face. you squint at him suspiciously. “did you have to get an expensive room?”

he chuckles. “how did you know? they didn’t tell you that, did they?”

“i literally have the perfect view of the fountain from here!” you point at the large window behind you. “i just passed out. i would’ve been fine downstairs.”

“don’t say it like that. it could’ve been so much worse.” he says with knitted eyebrows, palm cupping the back of your head and caressing softly.

he heaves a sigh.

“i was so scared that you injured your head. seriously, i thought i’d go insane if i lost you! i went past the speed limit driving you here!”

the distress he was under is apparent. you can’t help but to be racked with the guilt. you always do this, making him worry himself to death. you don’t usually do it purpose, and that only makes you feel shittier.

“you’re right. i’m sorry.”

“well, i…” he sighs. “it’s okay. i know you didn’t want this either. it’s not your fault.”

you press your lips into a thin line. “it kind of is.”

your lost eyes meet, and a connection is established like it’s a constellation sending a secret message. your heart flutters when he giggles, dimples and starry eyes and crinkled corners.

“stop it. it’s impossible to scold you when you’re so cute and self-aware.”

“then don’t scold me.” you sniffle sadly to kindle pity in him. “i’ve had enough of it from the doctor.”

your brain still works well enough to help you escape from trouble. that’s a good sign, right?

“my poor baby.” he coos, cradling your cheeks.

his hands are warm. you put yours over them; a wordless signal telling him you don’t want him to go away.

“let’s not get hurt again, please. we need to stay healthy and take good care of ourselves so this won’t happen again, alright?”

you nod in obedience. your eyes are fixed on him but you’re not certain if you’re registering what he’s telling you in your pitiful, shaken brain.

“the hospital already did me many favors. if we go back, i might have to build them another fountain as a gift.”

and knowing jungkook, with his golden heart and his black card, jokes become half-meant.

“what do they need that for?!”

he bursts out laughing, yet again, after you chide at him for his ridiculous and unnecessary expenses.

“nothing, i’m just grateful! i was really so scared but i’m relieved now thanks to them. i can’t remember the last time i felt that way.”

“you’re not scared of a lot of things.” you point out.

“that’s right.” he agrees. “only you scare me these days.”

you grimace. “am i scary?”

“you are, sometimes.” he laughs, squishing your cheeks together. “but i mean the things that could hurt you.”

as if on cue, your stomach grumbles and bellows like a monster stuck in an empty cave. your eyes grow twice its size in bewilderment, which then morphs into embarrassment.

“my stomach hurts.” you say quietly.

your nostrils flare as jungkook miserably fails to hold back his laughter. one of his hands leave your face, rubbing your tummy over the thin hospital gown.

“oh no, what are we going to do? where does it hurt? here?” he pouts. “should we go feed you now to make it go away?”

“what is wrong with you?” you slap his shoulder in annoyance. “i’m not a baby!”

“yah, be careful!” he yells, wincing as if he is the one in pain. “be gentle with the one with the iv!”

—

“you know one good thing that came out of this?” you gush out of nowhere.

you’re mixing up the ingredients of your bibimbap bowl with a spoon and a pair of chopsticks.

jungkook noisily drinks the final sips of his banana milk. afterwards, he makes a game out of shooting the box in the trash bin.

“what could that be?” he asks, doubtful.

he sits on the chair beside your bed. you greet him with a delighted grin, licking your thumb stained with gochujang.

“you proved your love. you committed a crime for me.”

he gasps to humor you, body freezing as if he’s currently processing the newly-learned information in his brain.

“oh? you’re right- i did! and you know what? i’d do it again!”

with a mouthful of rice, you shake your head in disagreement furiously. “you’re cute. but that’s the first and last.”

“but how are you sure that it’s the first?” he raises an eyebrow quizically.

silly enough, you envy him for being able to do so.

you hum in thought. “i guess you’ve stolen a few things for me, too.”

“few? you mean a loooot?”

“you’re the one who brings home food and random things.” you roll your eyes. “i never ask you to.”

“you told me you wanted the service bell!”

you feel yourself become flushed with sheepishness. he’s not lying. you’ve always found the object fascinating as a child, so you couldn’t help but to tell him to sneakily take one home after filming a competitive run bts episode.

did you have a silly phase where you and jungkook used it to summon each other just to laugh together about it?

perhaps.

“well, you’re rich. you could’ve bought me one instead.”

“but it was already there.” he reasons with a wide grin, gesturing infront of him. “i wanted to give it to my lover right away.”

his lover?

jungkook has successfully replaced your frown with an enamored smile.

“i made your heart flutter just now, didn’t i?”

a hospital stay has never felt this comfortable— not terrifying. you have stitches on your face and to add to that, this hospital gown feels super unflattering. somehow, your boyfriend’s loving gaze remains steady and you are melting.

“shut up,” you mutter, flustered, handing him the pair of chopsticks. “please eat with me. i can’t finish this on my own.”

—

“why would you let them put the needle in my dominant hand?”

you stomp your feet on the ground as jungkook squeezes some toothpaste onto a newly-bought toothbrush.

“i’m sorry! i was too stressed out so i just pointed! i think i got confused with- with left and right.”

you didn’t realize this while you were eating; that you were unconsciously holding the spoon with your non-dominant hand because the other felt uncomfortable. maybe because it was a simple task, scooping food and bringing it to your mouth. brushing your teeth, on the other hand… can be quite an arm workout.

“eeeee!”

he shows his complete set of teeth, urging you to do the same. you stare at him blankly.

“eeeee!” he repeats with heightened enthusiasm.

left with no other choice— you copy his awkward smile.

“there we go!” he praises you with an over-enthusiastic beam.

he carries on to brush your teeth, gingerly holding your chin to keep you steady as he does his job.

this is the first time jungkook is doing this for you. today is definitely not one of your finest moments. it feels a bit silly to be in this situation, and you feel bad for putting your boyfriend in this position in the first place. you can see that he’s trying his best—unnecessarily focused—and that he loves you, but you just hate giving him a hard time.

with a soft smile, he wipes the bubbles that overflowed past your lips.

“okay, spit.”

you spit out more of the bubbles on the sink. you assume that he’s finished, except he’s making another vowel sound for you to mimic the mouth shape of.

“ahhhh-”

“this is embarrassing!”

“baby, really? this is where you draw the line?” he playfully squeezes your cheeks together. “it’s almost over! ahhhh!”

and you let him do this thing, but not without a glare that is masking the embarrassing truth: you might be enjoying this more than you care to admit.

“see? was that so bad?”

as he tenderly pats your face dry in the aftermath, he says: “i’m sorry. bear with it a little more. let me take care of you so you’ll be healthy again.” and you feel every ounce of his sincerity pierce through the barriers surrounding your soul.

“stop it…” your voice suddenly comes out broken.

you want to put all the blame on your period for the tears that are now brimming your eyes, but jungkook is your biggest weakness of all and that is an explanation enough.

“why are you crying?” he panics. “what did i say?”

“it’s your fault.”

you break down into loud sobs, incapable of even keeping your eyes open. you never understood why we close our eyes when we cry, but right now, you know that you can’t bear to witness his reaction.

“you’re so sweet.”

the towel that was wiping the water from your mouth is now drying the tears from your stained cheeks.

“am i making you sad?”

you furiously shake your head. how could he say such a thing? he is the greatest joy of your life.

“no?”

“no!”

“okay, come here then.”

he wraps his arms around your trembling figure, caging you in the solace of his entire existence. a sense of calmness washes over your system, especially as he runs his hand across your back in gentle strokes. this isn’t his goal though, it seems. you hear none of his quiet shushes beseeching you to stop breaking his heart. he hopes you let go of everything that has been weighing on you, but he has already eased all your pains by loving you.

“ugh, i probably look horrible right now.” you force a chuckle to lighten up the mood, wiping your face with the back of your free hand. “i feel gross.”

“that’s not true.” he gazes at you fondly, brushing your hair with his fingers. “it’s actually infuriating how you look so beautiful still.”

“i know. i’m nice to look at; that’s why you tolerate my attitude.” you conclude in jest.

“yeah, sometimes.” he rides on the joke.

“what…?”

“i’m joking!” he rushes to take it back with a laugh. “of course i’m joking!”

you pout. “are you really?”

“oh, come onnnn.”

he coaxes you with a kiss on the lips— a good morning kiss long overdue. you’ve been spoiled rotten with affection; he knows you need more than one. he interrupts himself several times to kiss you.

“you know i’ll love you until our hair turns white and our skin all wrinkly.”

to be brutally honest, you’re not fond of imagining that far ahead. it’s daunting. you doubt your capability to age with grace. you’re horrified by the thought of having the majority of your life behind you. nostalgia has always been more bitter than sweet. but maybe this memory could be the sweetest of all, if jungkook truly stays by your side until then. in a cottage at the countryside like he said once, or a cabin by the ocean.

you’re both so young; so arrogant when it comes to making promises that are a shot in the dark. so fucking in love.

“me too.” you half-smile, scrunching your nose— a telltale sign of your joy. “now, get out. i really need to pee.”

his face becomes drained of blood. “but you’re st-”

“i won’t lock the door this time.” you cup his cheek, looking at his eyes reassuringly. “we don’t need property damage added to the bill.”

—

“did you not hurt yourself?”

“me?”

“you broke down the door. that’s not easy to do.”

you and jungkook make the best out of a bad deal. you’re squeezed together on the bed, browsing through television channels that seem to never end.

“it was easy because you were on the other side of it.”

that is what he claims confidently, but you are not fully convinced.

“wow, why do they have more channels than we do at home?”

“you didn’t answer my question.” you pout. “did you hurt yourself?”

“i didn’t hurt myself. i’m totally okay. i promise.”

he maintains eye-contact as he speaks. given the assurance, your tight chest unrestricts. jungkook is not a good liar. it’s a trait that causes him inconvenience every now and then, but it helps you to sleep soundly at night.

“should we just watch funny animal videos on youtube?”

“i guess that’s fine.”

it doesn’t show but you feel excitement run in your veins aside from the iv fluids that feel peculiarly cold.

from under your cheek, his chest vibrates with a giggle. “okay, hold on.”

as he pulls up the application, you tangle your legs together beneath the thin blanket. you hear the rapid tap tap tap of the remote control navigating the keypad while he types on the search bar, but your attention is someplace else. you’ve found the crook of his neck to sneak into, lazily kissing every inch of his exposed skin. your lips eventually trail up to his jaw. he smells so nice. you’re addicted.

“baby, someone can enter any minute.”

“i’m not doing anything.” you mumble.

you smile against his lips when he gives you a kiss as sweet as honey anyway.

“i’m curious about another thing.”

“what’s that?”

“did you cry?”

he comes to a still. the answer to that question requires a little time and thought.

“almost…”

“why almost?”

“no time. i had to bring you here, of course.” he replies.

you huff a laugh, exhaling a twinge of melancholia. “don’t cry.”

“i won’t. i’m happy now because you’re awake and fighting with me.”

“ow-”

your cry of pain is silenced when he squeezes you in an embrace that makes it nearly impossible to breathe.

“red panda!”

a squeal assaults both of your hearing as soon as your eyes land on the wide screen infront of the bed.

“i want one so fucking bad.”

the enunciated curse makes your boyfriend crack up in amusement. “that much?!”

—

jungkook opens his eyes to a nurse lightly nudging him awake.

“i’m sorry, i had to wake you up. i need to check vitals and draw blood.”

“shit, i’m sorry.” he panics.

his brain is foggy from the nap, but he still carefully sits up on the bed, wary of the iv line connected to your hand.

“i… was tired and i fell asleep.”

“it’s no problem; don’t worry.”

she smiles at him, but he doesn’t see it.

“you look adorable sleeping.”

“ah, really?” he awkwardly responds, absentminded. “it’s embarrassing.”

he stands on your side, about to disturb your peaceful rest much as it makes his heart ache with guilt, but you’re already stirring due to the absence of his warmth.

your heavy eyelids blink at the nurse in curiosity. “oh… do you need my blood?”

“yes, but i’ll take your blood pressure and temperature first.”

“okay,” you mumble, offering your arm. “it might be higher now because i’m scared.”

she chuckles at your joke. jungkook tries to share an endeared look with her and non-verbally communicate adorable, right?

“i promise i’ll be quick. although we definitely want it to be higher than earlier’s.”

you wince as the cuff around your upper arm goes as tight as it could, and you sigh at the same time that it begins to deflate.

“good, good, good,” she chants with a mumble. “it’s back in the normal range again…”

she brings out a digital thermometer from her pocket.

“you know where this goes.”

she hands it over to you, and you awkwardly place it in your armpit, holding it in place. it’s quiet as you wait for the device to make the beeping sound, except for her pen creating friction with your chart as she takes down notes.

“how’s your stitches? do you feel any discomfort?”

“it’s fine. thank you.”

not long after, you hear the beep. you return the thermometer to her, but not before taking a peak at the numbers displayed on the tiny screen. 36.8°C. you think you’ll live.

“i’ll draw your blood now.”

the nurse’s voice is sweet and reassuring, but it doesn’t quite ease the nervousness evident on your expression. your pupils shake as you watch her disinfect the area, and then comes out the long needle.

another one, jungkook laments inside.

“____, i’m right here.”

you crane your head, whimpering out his name. “jungkook,”

“it will be just a pinch. i’m inserting the needle now, alright?”

you take a sharp inhale.

if only he could switch positions with you, he would do it in a heartbeat. unfortunately, all he can do is caress your hair and whisper that it will be over soon.

“it hurts.” your damp eyelashes flutter, face twisting in discomfort. “i don’t like it.”

really, just a pinch? obviously a lie.

“hey, baby. look at the tv.”

the autoplay was left turned on after you fell asleep together. inside the screen is a puppy rolling around a snow-covered lawn. the wagging of its tail, the wide smile, and the pupils as big as boba balls: they all scream the happiness of an innocent.

“it’s so cute… i miss bam already. can we go to a dog park again?”

“of course!”

that promise sparks your smile. you turn to your side, and jungkook also catches a glimpse of the cotton taped to where you were poked.

“all done. you can go back to resting.”

“thank you. will you need to take blood again?” you inquire at the nurse.

“hm, probably. it depends on the doctor based on the results we get from this one.”

“can’t you just do it while i’m asleep? or is that not allowed?”

“baby…” jungkook snorts, hiding his face behind the palm of his hands.

the nurse laughs at your desperate suggestion. “that is honestly not a rare request, but the thing is… you might wake up in the middle of it and injure yourself. we can’t do that.”

“that won’t be a problem!” you passionately argue your case. “i’m a deep sleeper. seriously!”

“ah, thank you so much for your hard work!”jungkook intervenes, bowing to the nurse out of respect and gratitude. “i’m sure you’re busy. i will handle this!”

“oh yes, yes- thank you. please don’t forget the medicine for after dinner.”

“i won’t!”

“if you need anything, you know where to find me again.”

“yes,” he nods, chuckling. “thank you.”

“then i should leave…? but you’ll see me again later! bye!”

the door shuts, and his attention lands on your unimpressed form: a blank stare and arms folded infront of your chest.

uh-oh.

“did she seriously wink while saying that?”

“what?” he freezes, genuinely clueless. “i don’t know. i didn’t see anything. i was looking at you.”

“i’m right here- i’m the patient. why would you need anything from her? huh? why is she so excited to see you again?” you ramble angrily.

“right?!”

he climbs on the bed, reclaiming his spot next to you.

“that was weird.”

“what if she made it hurt on purpose? that…” you frown, glancing at your arm. “that didn’t really feel like a pinch to me.”

“ey, calm down. she wouldn’t.” he makes a doubtful face, laughing off the accusation. “…i don’t think so?”

you blink, exhaling in disbelief. “are you taking her side now?”

“of course not! baby, i’m just saying… a professional won’t do that.”

“why not? she’s still human. humans do stupid things when they like someone. she obviously likes you.”

“and so what?”

he grins with a spark of mischief, leaving an inch of a distance between your lips.

“i’m obviously yours.”

but you turn your cheek and your eyes fall on your lap, a pout highlighting your downcast mood.

“it’s so annoying.”

the regret sinks in after. he should’ve stuck to the golden rule: agree with everything that you say. there’s no point in having an argument no one will win. does it matter who’s right and wrong if each other’s sadness is contagious in addition to their own? your gut has almost always been right, and he’s old enough to be conscious of not allowing a stranger to put a dent on your relationship.

“are you serious? are you uncomfortable?” he tilts his head to try and get a better look at your face. “should i request for a different nurse?”

it’s quiet for a beat and he feels inclined to fill the silence with whatever enters his mind.

“i love you.”

almost immediately, your features soften and he knows your heart is also melting. the two of you bite the inside of your cheeks to hide a smile.

“no, there’s no need for that.”

but he still can’t help but to be worried. your peace of mind is his top priority. he doesn’t want you to be more stressed out, especially by things that he has the power to solve.

“are you sure?”

“she pissed me off. i need to piss her off too.”

of course, his ever stubborn and competitive lover. he sits up properly, amused and curious.

“and how will you do that?”

“i don’t know,” you nonchalantly shrug. “i’ll come up with something.”

—

“come up with what?”

to your surprise, a voice you haven’t heard in weeks echoes from the door.

“mom…?”

you’re stunned after only hearing yourself react to jungkook’s mother’s unexpected entrance. your head whips to his direction; your eyes wordlessly interrogating him.

“i need to go to work so i called her to watch over you.” he explains.

“why would you do that?” you argue with him as quietly as possible, lips barely moving as you try to hide your face from your mother-in-law. again, not one of your finest moments. “you didn’t have to. i can take care of myself.”

“but you don’t have to because you have us.”

jungkook marks the conversation finished with a kiss pressed to your temple, leaving you dumbfounded. he jumps off the bed and for a split second, you make eye-contact with his mother before he towered over her for a quick hug.

her kind smile is embroidered in your memory; a memory that wraps your heart in a type of warmth only a mother can provide.

“mom! i’m sorry. i really, really, really need to leave now. but! i’ll try to come back early so you can go home early too.”

“aigoo, stop stressing yourself out.”

jungkook receives a slap on the back, somehow more loving can scolding.

“i can stay the night so do what you need to do. you don’t have to worry.”

“it’s not only because i’m worried!”

she sassily puts a hand over her waist. it takes everything in you not to laugh out loud.

“then what else?”

“mom! what else?” he cheekily smiles. “of course i’ll miss ____ too much.”

did your boyfriend just…? to his mother? your jaw becomes slack from the shame.

“i missed ____ too!” she contests. “go to work and give us our alone time.”

you shyly smile when she transfers her attention from her son to you.

“hello, my baby. are you hungry?”

—

“does my son feed you well?”

“he does! but it’s funny- other mothers ask the opposite. are you feeding my son well? do you make sure he’s comfortable?”

you think out loud, transfixed on how she peels oranges with ease. your hands would always be stained by the juices, (and eyes red and teary from accidental splashes) (it’s too embarrassing to even think about) but hers are still magically clean.

“is that so?”

you graciously accept the slice she feeds you. she laughs when your face lights up like a christmas tree one more time. it’s way sweeter than you anticipated. you can’t get over how delicious it is.

“mhmm!”

perhaps you relied too much on dramas when it came to your expectations of what a relationship with your in-laws would look like. you imagined yourself running around like a dog trying to prove yourself worthy of their son, yet for some reason, it looks like they adore you for simply existing. it makes you feel extremely grateful, but you don’t understand.

“mom, i have a question… i know it’s probably too late to ask this now, but…”

“what could that be?”

“are you really not against me and jungkook living together?” you swallow your fear of the possibility of an unpleasant truth. “are you not… worried… that i’m receiving too much from him?”

because you would understand the apprehension. as a parent, one’s main concern would be their child. to outside eyes, it’s easy to come to the conclusion that jungkook is being taken advantage of and he’d be better off dating someone with the same status. sometimes you wish you were that someone too.

she utters your name sadly.

“he receives happiness and love from you. those are the most valuable things you could give to a person.”

she caresses your hair like she wants to erase the anxiety poisoning your mind.

“my dear, how come you’re worried about that until now? haven’t we told you? you’re part of the family. forget about my sister! i don’t welcome her negativity in our house!”

“living together is different. it’s a big deal. it normally happens in a relationship after…” the following words feel foreign in your mouth; they come out quieter than the rest of your sentence. “getting married.”

“then tell me. why did you agree to live with him?”

because you’re selfish. because you want more time that you can have him all to yourself. because you want to be accessible— the first person he runs to when he’s seeking comfort and stability. because you want goodnight and good morning kisses. because you were afraid of the risks but you’ve grown addicted to the thrill of love.

“he said… no matter how hard i push him away, he will stay within my reach.”

you hear your own shaky breathing. that moment— it’s still burned into your memory. you’re still holding on to it. it’s a promise he is yet to break and you pray that he never, ever does.

“i don’t want to push him away. i want to be within his reach too.”

you’re two people loving each other with everything within your means. after the endless pains and the deafening noise, you like to think that’s what makes this relationship worth fighting for.

“does my opinion still matter knowing that? will you let me stop you?”

“no, i won’t. i’d make you change your mind.”

if you had a machine connected to you, she would see how your heart rate has gone off the charts. but you’re known to say whatever’s on your mind and that, much to your dismay, isn’t switched off despite sitting infront of the woman who birthed and raised the love of your life.

you sniffle, pursing your lips nervously. “but i feel like there might be a right answer to that one.”

what you didn’t expect was her to laugh until her belly hurts; placing a hand over her mouth in an effort to calm herself down and keep grace.

“mom! stop, i’m so embarrassed!”

“no, ____, don’t get me wrong!”

she is teary-eyed as she gathers herself together.

“the more time i spend with you, the more i realize why jungkook loves you so much. i’ve seen him show incredible commitment twice. do you know that? first, when he went to seoul to become a singer. second, when he told us he got an apartment because he wants to be with you… of course, as his mother, i’ll admit that he’s young when he made those decisions, but he always proves to me that he’s smart and responsible.”

the urge to cry returns and strengthens as she speaks. you feel your eyelashes become damp with unshed tears. you don’t know how to act. you fiddle with your fingers. you stare at the strings and peels of the oranges you can still taste.

“i believe we both know jungkook’s personality well. he wouldn’t have let me stop him either. i’m happy to know that you’ll fight for him too.”

“thank you…”

“tsk, tsk, tsk- what is there to cry about? jungkook will get angry at me if he discovers that i made you cry.”

she wipes away your tears; however, the unmistakable scent of oranges that has clung to her hands and the affection in her tone bring forth a waterfall.

“seeing this makes me sadder.” she laments, referring to the stitches on your face.

“me too,” you babble in the midst of quiet sobs. “it makes me sad. it’s so ugly.”

—

you can’t remember the last time you felt this alone. perhaps it’s the effect of staying in an unfamiliar building of complete strangers. without your mobile phone, may you add. you managed to persuade jungkook’s mother to leave an hour ago because you didn’t want her to sleep on the uncomfortable couch.

the lights are turned off except for the lamp beside your bed, and with the television muted, you could hear a hairpin drop.

you’re alone and you can do whatever you want.

you dragged the visitor’s chair infront of the window to admire the garden like it’s a painting in motion. you watched people converse, stroll, and drink coffee. you watched them run for shelter when the clouds became too heavy and the sky began to fall. oh, so that’s why you couldn’t see the stars.

at this moment, there’s nothing left to amuse yourself with but the trembling of the leaves and the raindrops forming temporary rings when they fall in the water fountain.

your senses crave for more. you reach over and crack open the window, just enough to allow the sound of the rain and the scent of it permeating the earth to enter your room.

“this is kind of peaceful.” you whisper, amazed by the new lightness carried by your heart.

you close your eyes and you breathe in the petrichor deeply. you want nature in your lungs as a reminder that you’re alive. you welcome the cold wind kissing your face. you can feel your hair touching your neck. you always do, but for once, you’re choosing to acknowledge it. your thumb slowly brushes across the palm of your hand, perceiving the texture of your skin, the softness, and the lines. and your feet, they’re in the clouds, the fluffy slippers jungkook’s mother bought outside because she knows they’re your favorite to wear.

you’ve loved and despised this body for a million different reasons. your mind and heart have accepted defeat countless times, but your body wakes up to every brand new day without fail. your body implores you to live. did it finally give up on you today?

“baby!”

you look behind to search for the source of the sound.

you get your answer from the kiss planted on your lips.

you only saw his face for a split second, but even if you had your eyes closed, you’d know it has to be jungkook kissing you.

you can smell him. you’ve memorized the way the shape of his lips fits with yours.

oh, the sounds of his kisses too. you like to call them the butterfly call because they make butterflies appear in your stomach.

you could trace the scar on his cheek with your finger if you want to.

god, what a privilege it is to experience life in this vessel.

a knock on the door forces you to part too early. the same nurse from earlier enters and you internally scream all the curse words in your dictionary. jungkook acknowledges her with a bow and a quick ‘hello’ before squatting down infront of you.

“i committed another crime for you today.”

“huh?”

your wide, confused eyes take a glimpse at the nurse who is doing something with the controls of your iv line.

hahaha… she knows he’s not serious, right?

“what did you do?”

his smile is so big that his eyes have turned into little crescent moons. you’d make a guess but there is an infinite amount of things jungkook could possibly be this excited about.

…apparently, one of them would be strawberry cake.

you gape at the transparent box he was hiding behind his back all along.

“did you steal somebody’s birthday cake?!”

“it’s a producer’s birthday and he received lots of cakes, so he told me i can take one home.”

“how is it stealing if he allowed you to take it?”

he tosses his backpack on the couch as he sets down the box on the table. he rummages through the bag his mother left behind, successfully bringing out a spoon. meanwhile, you get your blood pressure taken again.

as he opens the box, he sends a smirk your way.

“no. i hid the strawberry cake because there’s so many who wanted to eat it.”

“are you crazy?!”

the nurse clicks her tongue. “don’t talk and stay still, please.”

“oh,” your hand flies to your mouth on instinct. “i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry.” jungkook also apologizes.

you and your boyfriend secretly share a look, exchanging a smile that is stifled laughter inside. your lips remain zipped as the nurse restarts the process of taking your blood pressure. on the other hand, jungkook eats a spoonful of cake, teasingly wiggling his eyebrows at you. you roll your eyes and he tries harder to laugh without a sound.

seconds later, he grumbles about the room being too warm. he wipes the beads of sweat on his forehead using the back of his hand, and he does the worst thing he could possibly do at this moment. he reaches for his back, pulling his sweater over his head. naturally, his inner shirt rides up and allows wandering eyes a peak at his glorious toned abdomen.

passed out in the shower. busted your eyebrow open. front-row seat for a woman flirting and ogling at your boyfriend.

how fucking great.

“hello? i think it’s done.” you snap.

“a-ah, yes.”

you hear her swallow as she removes the cuff from your arm. she may be wearing a mask but she’s hot and red all the way to her ears. you’ve only read about it in books. you didn’t even believe this could happen in real life until now.

“i will check your temperature too.”

“go on.”

you repeat the same process from hours earlier, drumming your fingers on your thigh as you wait for the beep.

“yah, why is the window open? you’ll catch a cold.”

jungkook, yet again, steals the attention of every person in the room when he rises to his feet. his shadow casts over you as he closes the window.

“i wanted to smell the rain.”

“is the room getting too stuffy for you?”

you shrug. “i just wanted to smell the rain.”

you feel the nurse’s stare. you offer her a smile and her nameplate briefly gets caught by your vision. kang ji-woo.

“ji-woo; that’s a pretty name.” you pay her a sincere compliment. “it’s healing, don’t you think?”

“yes? uh-uhm, y-yes…” she replies, unsure and confused by the sudden small talk. “actually, it’s been linked to a reduction in stress and anxiety levels.”

“thank you! babe, did you hear that?”

“uhuh, think about my stress and anxiety levels.” he leans against the window with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you.

so now he’s flexing his arm muscles. cool, cool, cool. you know he’s not doing it on purpose and his entire existence is just naturally hot and it’s infuriating.

“i’ve been worried sick about you all day.”

his statement makes you frown for a new reason. at the same moment, the thermometer beeps.

“could you please tell him that i’m fine?”

“37.3, uhhh- that’s slightly above normal. how do you feel? does your head hurt? are you cold?”

“i feel fine though?”

“okay. please take a lot of rest and stay warm…” her gaze lingers at jungkook who is blocking the window. “keep the window closed. hopefully it won’t be higher when i check again later.”

seriously?! you could cry. you want to go home where it’s comfortable. where it’s only you and jungkook and bam.

but you bet somebody would be happy if you had to stay longer.

“i’ll look after ____.” your boyfriend sighs, pulling out a jacket from his backpack.

“you shouldn’t have kissed me. what if you get sick?”

your blatantness causes the nurse to pause in updating your chart. she awkwardly clears her throat. “yeah… that… that isn’t currently advisable.”

“i’m sorry. i’ll control myself.”

you earn a glare from jungkook, then he fakes a smile which you gladly return.

“before you go, may i request for a new blanket? sorry, i spilled something earlier.”

“sure thing! i’ll come back with that right away.”

—

“she seemed happy to leave.” jungkook remarks. “i can’t tell if you were actually being nice or being passive aggressive.”

you smile innocently, taking a bite off the strawberry you stole from the top of the cake. “i’m a fucking angel.”

damn it, why is he suddenly turned on?

were you serious about the no kiss rule?

“would you rather i be the type to pull their hair?”

he shakes his head with a laugh. “but you did slap someone once.”

“you want to see me that furious again?”

“never in my wildest dreams.”

he kisses the top of your head, producing an exaggerated ‘mmmwah!’ sound that makes you giggle happily.

“here, have some more cake.”

he offers you a spoonful of cake.

no, it’s bigger.

as a matter of fact, the piece could probably pass off as a cupcake.

you gawk at it as if you’re figuring out the logistics of putting it in your mouth. his heart does a flip when you tilt your head and do your best to take in the whole thing. however, in the middle of it, you decide that you can’t, and you end up biting it off a little more than halfway.

oh my god, he loves you. he loves you. you’re so fucking cute.

your cheeks are full as you struggle to chew. you cover your mouth with your hand but they don’t touch. you’re so elegant in your ways and sometimes he wonders how you’re still attracted to him after he acts stupid.

also, plain white nails? that’s new. you always want colors.

“your nails look pretty.”

he is so focused on you that he fails to take notice of another presence occupying the room.

“your mom did them for me.”

“i figured. she wants to do mother-daughter things with you.”

the short break of silence speaks volumes. you look at him, blinking with eyes hinting at a type of joy you’re lost on how to express.

“did you choose white?”

“no. we were watching a drama and it was the couple’s wedding.”

oh, that makes total sense.

“let me guess,” he trails off with a half-embarrassed, half-entertained smile. “she asked when we will get married?”

“why would she ask me that? how would i know?” you scoff.

his heart starts at a thousand miles per hour. fuck, are you hinting at him? are you messing with his feelings again? with you, he always needs to remind himself to be rational.

“i need more time to prove to you that i’m husband material.”

“what? stop it. i don’t care. i don’t need a ring.”

your unpredictableness pushes him to the edge of his seat.

“don’t pressure yourself. you already treat me way better than most husbands do their wives.”

the pride painted on your face is unmistakable. he feels his heart swelling in his chest. has he been doing a better job than he originally thought? after what happened today, he was terrified that he hasn’t been paying enough attention to you.

“i’m so happy with what we have.”

you offer him a delicate smile before eating the rest of the cake that was left on the spoon. he swears there’s a glowing halo above your head.

could your temperature have magically dropped in the past five minutes? would you kill him if he kissed you right now?

“is there anything else i could assist you with?”

and then he is rudely snapped out of his hopeless adoration and daydreaming.

“that’s all! thank you for your hard work!” you chirp.

he turns to the nurse with a lovesick grin.

“please come to our wedding.”

the unforeseen wedding invitation earns him a slap on the chest. he clutches the affected area, wincing in pain.

he hears you mutter. “don’t invite strangers to our wedding.”

the irritated glare he predicted to face isn’t there. rather, you’re wearing the flustered smile he only sees when he knows that he did something to make you fall for him all over again.

before ji-woo left, she tried to subtly reject the invitation by jokingly saying that she’d die to go, but most probably, she’d have to work that day. you know… being an overworked hospital employee and all. you caught her glancing at you with bitterness failed to be guised as indifference. you get it. you’d hate it if another person was in your place. frankly speaking, you could be miles pettier.

your boyfriend wipes the corner of your lips, thoughtless as he licks off the cake frosting from his thumb.

damn it, you wish she was also here for that.

“you haven’t stopped smiling.”

“you love me and you never let me forget that.”

you give an answer despite the lack of a question mark.

you just made his world stop spinning on its axis and you’re not even aware.

jungkook knows the heavenly feeling of knowing that he is loved, but he has never deeply considered the joy and relief when the person he loves believes that he loves them.

“i’m so lucky. i love you.”

you push yourself up to plant a kiss on his forehead. it’s a rarity he treasures and keeps.

“i love you too.”

he cries infront of you.

almost.

he excuses himself to the bathroom and cries in there a little.

you’re so easy to love— that’s why it makes him want to do difficult things for you. like commit more crimes?

[kaneaken]

author's note; bringing forth my soft capitano agenda with a short drabble

content notes; gn!reader, established relationship (married), you adopt ororon for a bit, mention of having children (as in raising them together), slight hurt/comfort, slight spoilers about capitano's origins

When you hear your husband's been injured in an altercation with the Pyro Archon, you were rushing out of the Fatui camp immediately. Multiple Fatui soldiers chase after you, telling you to return to camp.

"Lord Capitano will have our head if their partner gets injured! Move!" You hear one of the soldiers call out to their comrades. You ignore them. The only thing on your mind is to make sure your husband is alright. You know he's strong, stronger than you know, but it doesn't ease your stress.

In your focused state, you don't notice the man you're worried about approaching. You bump into his chest, almost tumbling over if not for him catching you by the shoulders.

"What are you doing outside of the camp, beloved?" He asks, looking down at you. You don't answer, your hands quickly moving about in search of his wounds.

"I heard what happened. Are you okay? Does it hurt? Where did you get hit?" You sputter out your questions, not bothering to let him answer.

"Excuse me..." A voice interrupts, causing you to turn your head. You make eye contact with a dark-haired male. He definitely wasn't a Fatui soldier, but his clothing reminded you of the locals.

"Who is this?" You ask, turning back to Capitano.

"A child from the Masters of the Night Wind. He assisted with my escape," Capitano answers. He readjusts his hand, leading you back to the camp with his hand on your back.

The male walks beside the two of you, interjecting whenever needed to explain himself.

Ororon is his name. You learn much about him as he spends time at the Fatui encampment. Whenever your husband is out, you find yourself making small talk with Ororon.

You learn about his garden. You smile when he promises to bring you some of his vegetables. He tells you about his family back home. He tells you that his granny will be especially furious with him when he returns home. You wonder what kind of woman his granny is.

As the days go by, you realize Ororon is a very sweet, young boy. You find yourself worrying about him more. When he goes out to search for herbs, you secretly tell the soldiers accompanying him to keep a very close watch of him. You always offer him an extra serving of food despite your husband's insistence that he's eaten enough.

"You're overfeeding him, beloved."

"It's better than underfeeding!"

When Ororon returns home for the first time, your husband notices your faltered state.

"You spoiled that child as if he was your own. I fear you have become too attached, beloved," Captiano remarks as he takes a seat next to you.

"Ah, I suppose so..." You admit. You chuckle soflty, resting your head on his shoulder. "We don't have any of our own, so I suppose I was just projecting."

"Children..."

"It's a silly dream of mine. Don't worry."

Capitano shakes his head. "It isn't silly at all. I suppose... I never believed you'd want children, especially with a man such as I."

That shocks you. You lift your head, facing him. "Why wouldn't I? There isn't anyone else I'd rather have children with."

You understand his hesitating. The curse he bears makes the future he once dreamed of almost impossible. You don't want him to believe that. He deserves a future as much as any other person.

"You'd be a wonderful father," You reassure, placing your head on his shoulder once again.

"You truly believe that?"

"I do."

[bleedingovereden]

@paleontaxi said: A stray cat (or dog) shows up on Ink's doorstep several days in a row and appears to have no home. What does he do?

//this is a very good time to mention that i've been playing with the idea for a bit now that ink feeds some of the stray cats in his area! he absolutely has names for them all, and several of them trust him enough that they'll come right up to him and hang out for a bit. he makes sure they're fed and safe, as much as he can, and he keeps cat food in his apartment for them.

at this point in his life, ink isn't looking for a pet. he can barely take care of himself on a good day, after all--no need to put an animal through that.

however, if a cat (or dog, but we'll say cat here) came to his door repeatedly and clearly was in need, ink would have very little problem taking the poor thing in. at the very least, he'd want to make sure it's okay--not injured, not sick, not going to starve to death or dehydrate, etc. he'd get it to the vet as soon as possible, too.

from there, ink would try his best to reunite the cat with its owners if it has any, but in the meantime would spend time with it to make sure it doesn't get too lonely. i imagine he'd get attached very quickly, haha!

depending on whether or not ink finds either the cat's original owners or a new home, i think he'd eventually give in and adopt the lil beast. however, he'd be lowkey terrified of harming it somehow, so he'd insist on sharing custody of the cat with someone, likely his friend lorelei. and she'd be more than happy to step in as needed.

[marvelstoriesepic]

Wear My Heart

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky x Reader (Soulmate Au)

Summary: Bucky discovers his long-lost match in a client. But is he even meant to have you with the mark erased from his own body?

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: angst; loss of limb (non-graphic); prosthesis; PTSD; lots of self-worth issues; insecurities; mild reference to past violence (non-graphic); mentions of self-isolation; chronic loneliness; Bucky is going through some feels

Author’s Note: We had him as a tattoo artist yesterday and we have him as one today haha. This sweet request comes from my beloved tumblr husband! I hope you'll enjoy ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

He sees you before you walk in.

A blur of reflection in the glass door, sunlight making your hair beam, fingers adjusting the strap of your bag.

The door opens.

He doesn’t look up right away.

Steve has booked this appointment under your name, and Sam had dropped too many hints over the past few weeks that you’d be coming in soon. Nat had rolled her eyes and told him flatly, that either he’d speak to you or they’d all die of secondhand tension.

So now you are here.

And he’s pretending not to care. Pretending to hear the buzz of the needle. The only thing that grounds him anymore. Pain turned into art. Wounds etched into skin like a creation. And he’s great at this because he’s better at translating pain than he is at speaking.

He prefers ink to people. Needles to names. He prefers silence.

“Bucky?” You’re saying his name as if it’s a question, like maybe you’re still not sure you’re in the right place.

He looks up.

And the moment your eyes meet, there is something inside him that flickers. Like a lightbulb that hasn’t been touched in years. Dusty. Forgotten. Still warm.

He nods. Just once.

You smile. Small. Polite. Nervous.

He doesn’t return it. Can’t.

Because your smile, although timid, is the kind of thing that stays with you - like smoke in his lungs. It fills the spaces where oxygen used to be.

He’s never properly spoken to you, but he’s seen you before - at Steve’s apartment, at Sam’s cookouts, in Nat’s too-casual Instagram stories where he already acknowledged how beautiful your smile is. How beautiful you are.

He remembers thinking you got a laugh like a sunrise, making darkness irrelevant.

He remembers thinking you’d never look at someone like him.

He remembers looking away.

He never said more than a word to you. Never trusted himself to.

You’re too good. Too light. And he’s not.

He knows you are out of his league. And maybe you didn’t even notice him. Maybe all the times he saw you - laughing in Steve’s kitchen, sitting cross-legged on Sam’s couch, reading some ancient paperback by the window - he was just a background blur in your story.

So he kept his distance.

It’s easier that way.

“Uhm, hey,” you start a little nervously, and he could kick himself. “I have a design I've been working on for a while. Steve said you might be the right artist for it.”

You hand him a sketch. He barely glances at it. His fingers don’t fumble but something in his chest does.

And then you move. Rolling your sleeve up. Exposing skin.

And Bucky stops breathing.

It takes a second for his mind to catch up. Another second to realize what he’s looking at.

But when it hits him - it hits.

Like an avalanche in his throat.

There, inked into the soft skin of your upper arm, is a mark he hasn’t seen in over a decade.

His mark.

The same symbol. The same twisted loops of black that curved into his skin when he was six years old. The same mark he stared at for years like it might offer answers. As though it could explain why he always felt like a half-finished sentence. As though it might lead him to someone whole.

It used to be on his left arm. Right over the muscle. He remembers tracing it absently during lectures, during subway rides, during troubled nights when he couldn’t sleep.

It disappeared the day he lost his arm. Gone. Stolen. Scrubbed clean as if he never had a soulmate at all.

He remembers crying - not for the pain, nor for the loss, but because the one thing that tethered him to hope, to someone, was just gone.

He decided then that he was meant to be alone. That fate had made a mistake. That maybe his soulmate was already dead. Or that she had moved on. Married someone else. Tattooed over the mark. Or worse, that the person meant for him would never find him, spending her life thinking she was alone. Marked for no one.

He wonders if you ever felt that way.

He wonders if you still do.

He keeps his face neutral. Professional. He’s good at this. But inside he is crumbling like never before. Collapsing. Splintering into a thousand broken pieces of before and after.

You are talking. He hears the cadence, the warmth, but the words are fog. All he can focus on is the mark. The one thing he never thought he’d see again.

And now you are standing in front of him. And you are real. And the mark is right there on your arm, the exact shape and size of the one that used to be his.

You don’t know.

You can’t know.

You’re here. You’re real. You’re his.

And he says nothing.

He stares at it as if it’s a hallucination. But it’s not.

His lungs are tight, cold, hollow. He feels his prosthesis twitch, the phantom ghost of muscle memory in the one he lost.

“This is where I was thinking it would go,” you say, pointing gently to the space around the mark - your mark, his mark, both your marks - “I think it’s one of those soulmate mark things. I got it when I was six. My mom said she always believed in them, that one day I’d meet someone with the same mark. You know, something about being made to match.” You laugh a little awkwardly, tugging your hair behind your ear, probably wondering why you told him this.

He doesn’t say anything. Just keeps staring.

You let out another awkward, breathless laugh. “I’ve never actually seen it on anyone else, though. Guess it’s just one of those things.”

Your words bruise him deeply.

He wants to scream. Wants to tell you everything. That you’re walking around unknowingly wearing his heart. That once, when he was a different man, that mark was the only beautiful thing left of him.

But his mouth doesn’t move. It’s dry.

Because how do you tell someone you lost the piece of yourself that was meant to find them?

What do you say to someone who doesn’t know they’ve been saving your life just by existing?

So he nods. Again. Always nodding. Always hiding.

He’s just the weird guy with the metal arm and the bad temper. The broody dude with a shop sitting behind a laundromat and too many shadows in his eyes. You don’t know that he’s been dreaming of you since he was a kid - before he lost everything but the pieces he could still carry in his chest.

You don’t know that he’s already met you in a hundred quiet ways.

Every time you laughed from another room. Every time he caught you humming while helping Steve cook. Every time Sam made a joke and you leaned in toward the warmth of it instead of away.

He almost speaks. Almost. But the words stick.

You don’t push. You sit. You trust.

And he works.

He sets up the station. Puts his gloves on, machine humming. He doesn’t make eye contact again for the rest of the session.

His fingers don’t shake but his soul does. He lets you sit close, lets you talk about what the design means to you and how long you’ve waited.

And all he wants to do is scream.

What do you say to someone who might run, if you told them the truth?

He tattoos the design carefully.

You wince once and his heart jumps like it wants to protect you from everything. He places his metal hand lightly on your shoulder. Usually, he avoids touch, but you don’t flinch.

That alone nearly destroys him.

You’re so close. Your heartbeat. Your breath. And he keeps thinking about the mark, about the fact that it once lived on his body. About how it had to be removed, torn away, for you to finally appear.

Maybe that’s what fate is.

Maybe it’s not a gentle thing.

Maybe it breaks you before it brings you what you need.

He is memorizing you.

Every breath. Every glance. Every shift.

It feels like something long buried is waking up inside of him. Something ancient. Something inevitable.

When it’s over, you thank him. You say it’s perfect. You pay and leave and smile and wave and tell him that you hope to see him at Steve’s soon and he stands there like a ghost.

He can’t tell you.

Maybe he isn’t even meant to tell you. Maybe fate’s hands were clumsy with him. Maybe it’s not that he lost the arm, or the mark, but that he was always meant to. Maybe that’s part of the story.

Maybe the universe never meant for him to find you. Only to know you exist. Only to touch what he could never keep.

Because what if he tells you?

You might look at him with those lovely wide eyes and smile, say finally, say yes.

But you might also tell him no, look at him with disgust, with disbelief, with disappointment that he is the one you get when you could have gotten someone so much better.

He can’t survive that. He knows it. The heart he stitched back together with flayed rope is easily able to snap when pulled too tight. He’s been holding it together with black thread and stubborn silence and ink. Ink. Always ink. The only thing that doesn’t lie.

He breathes as if he’s drowning. He thinks of your hand on his. The way you smiled. The way you trusted him without knowing why.

He didn’t see the way your eyes softened when he touched your arm. As though his hands were made of something other than metal and self-hatred.

He didn’t see how you leaned in a little closer when he spoke, how you tilted your head as if memorizing the sound of his voice.

He doesn’t see your hesitation at the door. The way you linger. The way you open your mouth to say more but then close it again.

He doesn’t see any of it because his mind is too loud. Too cruel. Too consuming.

It’s whispering to him, claiming that he’s not the man you were meant for. He lost his mark. He lost his right. This isn’t his story anymore.

Maybe the universe gave you the mark and took his, on purpose. Maybe it’s symbolic. Maybe it’s a warning.

Maybe you’re supposed to move on.

Maybe he is supposed to stay behind.

So he watches you go.

Only after the door clicks shut does he exhale.

He peels off his gloves with trembling hands. Walks to the back room. Opens the drawer he hasn’t touched in years.

There, under a stack of unused stencils and crumpled paper towels, is a single sheet. A sketch. Faded. Old. Drawn by hand.

The mark.

He lays it flat on the counter.

His chest feels like it’s holding a thunderstorm. Not lightning. No, that would be beautiful. There only are clouds that never break. Rain that never comes.

His eyes close.

And for the first time in years, Bucky lets himself feel it. Everything. Hope. Fear. Longing. Grief. Wonder.

He presses his palm over the place where his mark used to be. Where his flesh used to be.

He found you. It’s you.

And you don’t know.

But he does.

He brushes his thumb over the lines of his sketch and thinks that he could love you.

That he already does.

And then he thinks, that maybe he was never supposed to.

[lululocomo]

The new past AU: The attack

CW: blood (not very visible)

Finally sharing this art✨ the shiny stuffs are magical/celestial spearheads, don't question too much how this work or how this could cause fire, it just did-

Writing of the scene under the cut! Enjoy!! (angst with a happy ending ofc)

It was a peaceful and calm day on Flower Fruit Mountain, and today, MK was with his dad and the pilgrims.

Macaque was taking his usual stroll in the peach orchard, appreciating this beautiful corner of his home.  when this uneasy feeling slowly crawled under his skin. He could feel it, something was about to happen.Wanting to know the source of this feeling, he used his enhanced hearing. But even with it, he wasn’t able to pinpoint the exact origin of the disturbance; only that it was coming from the celestial realm.

The next moments all happened so fast: focusing all his attention toward the sky high above, Macaque never expected the sound of commotion coming from his very home. 

How was this possible?? He was convinced the problem is with the celestials, there is no way the mountain was the target- oh - oh no- now everything made sense.”Heaven is attacking”.

How could this happen?? How could the Six Eared Macaque not hear an incoming attack?! He’s supposed to protect this place! This couldn’t be real, this was a nightmare, and he can’t wake up. 

He rushed to the source of commotion, hearing only screams and noises that will forever haunt him, forgetting his shadow power in his panic.

Finally leaving the forest and at the border of the clearing, his heart sank with the scene his eye lay upon:

The mountain is covered in flames, the village is destroyed, and monkeys are escaping the chaos the best they could.

With a shaky breath, Macaque looks around, he needs to find the author of this monstrosity, and make them regret their actions.That’s when he looked up: there he was “Erlang Shen”, attacking his beloved home. 

Macaque was ready to jump at his throat, but Erlang summoned another round of his celestial spears, aiming what was left of the village. Rage clouded his mind, but before he could unleash his wrath, he got distracted by a noise: a small chirp ; barely audible even with his hearing.Then he saw: in the middle of the celestial aims, a cub, curled up in a ball, so small that Erlang mustn't have seen her. And if Macaque doesn’t do something, the spear will kill her. So, without thinking twice, Macaque jumps to protect the cub, not caring about getting hurt. Ignoring the throbbing pain coming from his shoulder, he look down at the cub, relieved to see they are unharmed.He turns his head toward the attacker, baring his teeth and glaring at him with eyes filled with rage.

Erlang high in the sky, stopped his attack upon noticing Macaque.He open his mouth and start talking to him:

 “Consider this a warning, do not even try to go against heaven ever again”.

 “What’s the meaning of this- this unjustified violence Erlang?!EXPLAIN YOURSELF!” 

Erlang, look down, no visible emotion on his face “ I have nothing against you, Six eared Macaque, I was only doing what I was ordered to do.”

“Ordered?? What, are we seen as a threat to receive this kind of destruction?? Does the stupid Journey mean nothing to you Celestials?!”

Erlang paused, then answered with a more serious look : “The heaven knows of your child. From what was seen when he’s in company of the pilgrims, he’s not a threat for Heaven” 

macaque: “... then why this horrible warning?”

 Erlang sighted; “ Li Jing was the one who ordered me to do it. Your kid may behave well now, but to ensure any of you don’t do anything against the celestial realm in the futur, he saw deems that a warning had to take place”

Macaque, whispering between his teeth “ what a load of crap..”

Erlang: “If this cub still behaves until the end of the journey, Heaven will officially leave him alone and not do anything to your little family. Now if you excuse me, I need to report back. Goodbye Six ears Macaque, and sorry.”

The celestials left as fast as he arrived. 

Macaque, still shocked by what happened, looked around him, still holding close the cub in his arm. So much was lost, not all monkeys managed to escape in time. The small cub, after being paralyzed by fear this whole time, starts to cry and sob uncontrollably, chirping for her parents. 

The shadow monkey, wanting to help this lost kid, asks her where the last place she saw them: with her small shaky paw, she points to the right. But when he looked in this direction, the only thing he could see was what used to be a house, devoured by flame. Using his enhanced hearing all around,his ears only met the sound of fire and things burning. There was no sign of life, everyone who’s alive was already far from here, and there is no way parents would leave without their cub.

 It could only mean one thing, and Macaque hates everything about it: the poor kid lost both her parents in this stupid attack from Heaven.

Macaque’s mind started to become hazy from the blood loss, but he had to check the house for the cub's parents, he wanted to believe they were somehow still alive. But it was too late, the house completely collapsed and it was only an inferno of flames now. 

His legs gave in, all hopes for possible survivors are now gone; the cub and his heartbeat are the only things he can hear right now. 

He doesn't know what to do, he is here, alone with the cub, doing his best to calm her down, surrounded by flames. Using his shadow power was not an option, he’s too unstable right now and it might put the kid in danger. 

His vision is slowly fading, and the only things he can see in the distance is… Xiaotian? What's he doing here? And is that… Wukong? Why are they both on the Mountain..? Shouldn’t they be on the journey..?

They both rush to his side in a panic:

 “BABA! OH GOD WHAT HAPPEN HERE–” MK shouted in panic, “YOU’RE HURT! AND VERY BADLY TOO!! Dad what do we do??”

 “Xiaotian.. don’t worry it’s okay-”

 “ MOON!” Wukong immediately crouches down to look at his face and injuries “WHO DARE DO THAT!? TELL ME AND I WILL KILL THEM-” he said with a voice filled with venom, ready to unleash his power to whoever did that.

“Sun.. please don’t.. it will only cause more problems… “Macaque said while caressing his lover face, “just please can you check if this cub’s parents are alive? she told me they were over there-” 

Wukong calms down and looks in said direction, using his golden vision to find who they are looking for. But as expected, no lifeforce could be detected. Macaque looked at Wukong, waiting for an answer, which Wukong gave by simply shaking his head.

 “...I see.” Macaque takes a deep breath, wincing from the pain “.. Why.. are you both here?”

MK answered with a shaky voice: “I- I felt that something happened to you. It was as if my shadow power was screaming to me to get to you. So that’s what I did” 

“What’s important is that we are here! But no more talking!” Wukong interrupts, lifting Macaque and laying him down on his nimbus, “We need to treat your injuries first! Let’s get to our house, it should be fine being behind the waterfall-” 

“Wait, what about the kid?! we can’t just leave her here!”MK ask.

“Of course we bring her too! Come on MK, I thought you were smarter than this” Wukong lightly chuckles “also she is firmly gripping Mihou, I doubt she will easily let go”

Macaque let out a weak laugh, relieved to have his family around him.

__________

Oof okay so I ended up writing more than I anticipated (also if there is any error please ignore them lmao) sdfdsf

BUT FINALLY!! THE MEIHUA LORE!!

Don’t worry Macaque recovered pretty quickly and Wukong and MK take good care of him during his recovery✨ I have brain more stuff for what happen next, but it will be in another post✨

Masterpost

[group-dynamic]

Love how the Pitt keeps dropping little hints about the interns / student doctors' sad, messed up relationships with their families.

Whitaker being asked "Do you have a best friend?" by the pregnant farm wife and answering like: um. . . I have three older brothers. . . Does that count? (like he doesn't know!!) and then he goes " Actually they kind of tortured me growing up, so :( " Like, I know he means in an older sibling way, but ooh, lonely, isolated and different from the rest of the family, first to go to college in a third generation farm family Whittaker my beloved!

Santos who it goes without saying had a shitty unstable or traumatizing upbringing that she references through her rage at the potential abuser, struggle to make genuine connections, and self awareness that she deflects and snarks as a form of self defense. Santos who hates herself and lashes out so badly when she screws up only to immediately walk her words back because she was too mean to Whittaker and didn't like that. Santos who needs reassurance more than anyone. Santos who bullies the other interns but also tries to defend Mohan and take care of Whittaker's finger like a good sibling in an abusive household.

Mel aka "I hate to see families torn apart" who has visceral reactions to shouting and when parents fight and genuinely worries and asks questions about whether fighting adults are going to break up like she thinks she's witnessing a divorce before her eyes. Mel who seems to be the sole caretaker of her sister as a result of. . .?!

Mohan who for most of the show is a mysterious, wonderful angel who keeps getting reprimanded by the ED father Robbie for being the doctor she wishes hospital bureaucracy would allow her be, and then it turns out her father died when she was young!!?? And she's an only child??? And she was clearly her father's favorite, (but not in this ED!) and while she's handled that loss by now, she goes around being the big sibling to all the less experienced staff despite not being a sibling herself, like now she's got so many!!

And Javadi whose parents BOTH work for that hospital who is so young and feels so deprived of appreciation and love and support who is a "pressure cooker" child who has found the kind of understanding and support and chill vibes she's wanted from "actual cool yet responsible" mom McKay and that little connection she has with Dana who's so attentive to her with her Utah metaphor and wishes her many Utah's like "I hope you experience many things in life" to a kid who has been set on such a narrow and difficult path she hasn't been able to look up to see the sky!!!

aaaahhhhhuuuggghhh!

[minalover]

When Maddie's morning cup of decaf is interrupted by a persistent knocking at the door, she just knows it's Buck. Buck, her beloved baby brother, her pearl of great price, the biggest pain in her ass, having what is, no doubt, another crisis about his love life. Is it Tommy? Is it Eddie? Is it Taylor Goddamn Kelly?

Who knows. Truly.

She slowly pushes away from the kitchen table, forever grateful that her toddler, who would not have slept through this incessant banging, is already at school. Her belly, now at just over eight months, tilts her forward, causing her to waddle like a penguin across her living room and towards the noise.

She grips the handle and starts talking before she even opens the door.

"I told you, Buck, you've just gotta tell him--"

But it isn't Buck.

"Eddie," Maddie says, slightly louder and more shocked than she intended. "It's like, 9:30 in the morning, is everything okay?"

Taking him in, he doesn't look okay. His hair is wild, like he's been running his fingers through it over (and over) and over again. His cheeks are tomato pink and he's almost vibrating.

"Maddie. Hi. Hello. Good morning."

"Good morning, Eddie," she placates, putting on her best toddler-about-to-have-a-tantrum voice. "Would you like some coffee? It's decaf."

"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Decaf's good."

He grabs his hair (again), pushes it out of his face (it wasn't in his face), and barrels through the front door and toward the kitchen.

By the time Maddie makes it back there, Eddie's standing and staring blankly at the coffee pot.

"Can you let me just--I'll just sneak in here--"

"I kissed Buck."

Maddie flops down on one of the chairs at the island.

"Okay, you wanna run that by me one more time?"

Eddie flings himself around, luckily catching himself with his hands on the other side of the little table from Maddie.

"I kissed him! He was taking Chris to school, and I walked up to Chris and I grabbed his head, like I do all the time, and kissed him on the top of the head, like I do, all the time, but then I just..."

With the patience of every saint in the communion, she waits for Eddie to finish his sentence.

"I grabbed his head. And I kissed him."

"On the lips?"

"No. On the forehead. He's tall. I keep forgetting."

Maddie takes a loud breath. Not as deep as she'd like, but the oxygen is good. At least that's what Chimney says when he has to deal with buckandeddie at work.

"Okay. And how do you feel about that?"

Somehow, Eddie's cheeks go from tomato pink to pomegranate magenta.

"I don't know, I mean. I. I think Buck will be unbelievably cool about it," Eddie rambles, speed increasing while his oxygen is definitely decreasing. "Like he's cool about everything. Christ, what was I thinking just moving back into his house that I abandoned, oh God, Maddie, does he think I abandoned him? I never wanted to, I never meant to--"

"Woah, there, Eddie, slow down." She's pretty sure that her brother's about to feel some kind of way if Eddie spontaneously combusts in her kitchen.

Eddie's breathing heavy, chest and shoulders cascading up and down with the air he's shoving in and out. His eyes are wide and, if Maddie's not mistaken, there are tears growing in his lash line.

"Eddie?" Maddie questions gently, moving her hand over his, a symbol of support in the echoes of his mind. "I think we might need an answer to that question."

"Which question?"

"How do you feel about it? That you kissed Buck on the forehead?"

She watches as he schools his face into something loud, and then quiet, and then dark. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. Doesn't open them before he speaks.

"Like I want to kiss him again."

He opens his eyes, big and brown and full of tears. They meet hers, and, by the way his face is swimming in her vision, hers might match.

"Oh, Eddie."

"I know, Maddie," he continues frantically, pushing his free hand in and out of a fist on the table. "I can't ask that of him. I moved back in with him and he's been so unbelievably--"

"Cool," she adds on a laugh. "So you said."

"Maddie," Eddie groans.

"Eddie, Buck has never been cool. Not a day in his life. Especially not about you."

He freezes in his shoes, fist halfway curled open like some sort of claw.

"What do you mean?"

"Eddie. Come on. He's crazy about you. I've known it from the beginning."

His face, wide and open, apparently needs a little more information than that.

"Look, I called his crush on you before he'd even moved out of Abby's house!"

If it's possible, Eddie's mouth is now open wider.

"Maddie... I can't... have this enormous crush on him. Be... in love with him. He's my roommate, and my best friend and I can't lose him. I won't. I refuse."

"Oh," she scoffs, "so you're just gonna swallow this down forever?"

In an instant, Eddie goes smaller than she's ever seen him before. His voice is small too.

"If I have to. He can never know."

"Uh, it's a little late for that," Chimney interrupts from the dining room.

Maddie and Eddie both snap their heads up towards the voice. But instead of Chimney they see, it's--

"Buck?"

Eddie's hand is still in Maddie's, but his voice is now directed to her little brother, standing wide-eyed behind Chimney, shoulders slouched like he used to do when he'd had a bad day at school. She pats his hand and pushes off the table, waddling over to her husband.

"Buck, why don't you and Eddie sit and have some coffee. There's decaf in the pot."

She watches as Buck moves through the room, brushing her across the shoulders as he passes, but eyes never once moving from Eddie.

As she and Chimney back up a little farther into the dining room, she hears her brother's voice.

"Did you mean it?"

"Did I mean what?"

"Well, all of it. Any of it. Did you mean what you told my sister? Did you mean to kiss me this morning before you left the house?"

"Eddie kissed Buck?!" Chimney whispershouts into Maddie's temple, as she brings a hand to his upper arm to slow him down. They're not eavesdropping, no of course not. Just. Enjoying the view from their dining room on a beautiful morning where they each have a few hours together. Of course.

"What if I do?" Eddie starts again.

"What if you do?" Buck questions back.

"Mean it."

"Then I'm gonna need you to kiss me again. And aim a little lower this time, would you?"

Maddie grabs Chimney by the arm and drags him all the way back to their bedroom, lest they bear witness to a secret that's definitely not theirs to tell.

[2000sangel]

some general tenna x reader headcanons?

HEY! Thank you so much for the request, I already have some others in my inbox as well so I'll try to get to at least a second one today since it's my day off! I thought it would be cool to start with these since there's not many around yet. Enjoy! ^^

Tenna x GN!Reader - General Headcanons!

(...they are below the cut. :3 )

♡ Let’s start off by saying that Tenna absolutely has a soft spot for you, as his trusted, wondrous partner: he can come off as obnoxious and demanding to his subordinates, and while these characteristics also pop up in the course of your relationship sometimes, he always makes it a point to be nicer to you and communicate as best as he’s capable of.

♡ You don’t even need to remind him who he’s speaking to much if he ever gets like that, because the love towards you that fills his heart does enough of a good job to remind him itself. You’re one of the few individuals he sincerely apologizes to whenever he’s made a mistake, and if for some reason he doesn’t end up apologizing straight-forwardly, he surely acts like hurting you even on accident might just be the worst act he has ever committed...until you remind him that going back to normalcy is what you guys should be doing instead.

♡ He likes praise...a little too much, perhaps. Your compliments never fail to make him grow a whole foot taller at least! If you keep your praise for rarer occasions, you might...no, you WILL catch a blush on his cheeks as well (in the form of SMPTE color bars on his whole screen)! In return he will compliment you just as much if not even more and you should probably prepare yourself to engage in his silly little antics...because depending on the context he might pick you up and spin you around as he chants all his adoration towards you!

♡ He’s also surprisingly clumsy when it comes to things like cuddling and hugging, unless they’re part of an act and he can get unserious with it: it might be because of his size, or even because of the lack of physical affection in his everyday life except when it comes to you...or both. Either way, he never really knows how to position himself, and usually his hugs in private are quick and a bit awkward at least at first. However, he would very much like to get cuddlier with you, so questions such as ‘Are you liking this, sweetheart?’ are ever-present whenever either of you initiates any kind of affection. Over time he becomes more natural with it but he still asks almost every time...just to make sure!

♡ Tenna is...quite passionate when it comes to his show! And as such he likes involving you whenever it’s possible; if you’re camera shy, don’t you worry, for you don’t even have to be part of it directly! Of course it would be awesome if you could be on stage together, but for him it’s enough that you’re enthusiastic about trying out his games and quizzes before the show airs. It’s never really an issue if you can’t get the answers right or you can’t beat a level, as long as you give gentle feedback on how to improve it. And if you ever do end up on stage, prepare yourself to be the spotlight! He’s VERY excited to have you there, and will make it his life mission for the night to get it across that you’re his beloved partner!

♡ Dates with Tenna are extravagant, so you should also be prepared each time he decides to take you on one! There’s no such thing as ‘boring’ when he’s involved, for better or for worse. Yes, sometimes he deems it a bit too important to be entertaining, when you’d just like to have a little moment for yourselves. It’s very difficult for him to unlearn to be an entertainment all the time, and to instead learn to just...be. Sometimes it has you wondering if he was programmed for it, but TV shows can be chill and so can he, by logic. So yes, it’s very much possible for him to tone it down and just enjoy his alone time with you, especially when you’re the organizer of the date. He learns to enjoy to unwind, and so you slowly become his safe, comfortable place.

♡ Overall though, Tenna makes it a point to be as charming as he can whenever a special occasion comes around: your birthday, Valentine’s Day, your anniversary, your monthiversary, your...dayversary...yes, he’s absolutely one of THOSE people. If you worry about dates, then stop right now, because he will remind you anything and everything related to you and your relationship and even more if you ask him to. On the rare occasion that he forgets, something is probably up and you should worry, but he seems to be incapable of forgetting, be it because he’s constantly thinking about schedules or something else. Though it could be overwhelming if you’re not the type to celebrate such things all the time...it’s clearly a good indicator that he absolutely cares!