#what is wrong with fluff?

[creamecafe]

People sexualizing Miles, Earth 42!Miles, Pavitr, and Gwen are mad weird. Like their teenagers???? You guys have Jessica, Hobie (Hobie is 19/20, Director confirmed), Drew, Liv Octavious, Peter, and Miguel ain't that enough for you? Making smut of teenagers is not ok. Aged Up! I don't care, but when their actual canon age should be something on a list

[ghostfacd]

fratboy!luke who..

- looks like he doesn’t wanna be at any of the functions but he still def parties his ass off

- definitely did those pledgetok tiktoks

- sighs whenever his frat bro does something dumb like a very loud face palm

- when he fucks up he texts u “i sincerely apologize to my beautiful sexy girlfriend, pls forgive me”

- when you don’t pull up to any of his frat’s events he’s asking the president if he really has to go

- “do i really tho josh? it’s just one event. my girlfriend wont even be there!”

- shrugs off any sorority girl who tries to flirt with him

- “uh i have a girlfriend.”

- when he’s drunk, he’s probably showing the girls who are trying to get w him pictures from his photo album labeled “my pretty gf” and that backs them right off

- everytime he’s hungover, he goes to the McDonald’s near his uni and eat 10 hash browns and 1 McMuffin 😭

- how did he meet you… funny story actually 😓

- luke did those tiktoks where they’d knock on random people’s dorm doors and throw a football and catch it and be like “u ladies alright?”

- well funny story actually: luke’s friend, luca, actually threw the football at luke’s stomach when you opened your door and he tumbled back and fell onto you

- so i guess you can say he fell for you? HHAHA get it… okay.

- luca never lets luke live that down because he’s like “nah uh you cant be mad at me cause im the one who helped you get a girlfriend in the first place.”

[arieswritez]

vincible

vincible | mark grayson x gn!reader (fluff)

alright since you all asked so kindly here's the fluff from my last hc 🫶🏾 :

cw: slightly suggestive but nothing nsfw. that's all :D

"why's it looking at me like that?"

the two of you are in bed and with his weight pinning you down, you find it hard to concentrate on what he means.

your head's all fuzzy with the way he's been drowning you in kisses. he kisses you like it might be his last chance to do so: sweet, languid until they melt into something more feral. the way his costume hugs his body doesn't exactly help your concentration, either.

your body's warm as it soaks up his body heat - he's like a fucking furnace - and it yearns. . no. . demands for his attention. you ignore him, making a soft, impatient sound that sounds more like a whine as you try to guide his lips back onto yours.

however, he keeps his head turned to your right, staring at a spot on your bed and says, "what're you lookin' at, huh?"

you pull back, confused, then follow his line of vision.

finally, you see what he sees: a stuffed animal perched against your pillow.

you watch as mark squints at the toy, then, tilts his head and scoffs in indignation as if it's just hurled an insult his way.

"what'd you say?" mark sits up and away from you, puffing out his chest.

the plushie stares at mark with big, black, empty eyes.

you stare up at mark, confused, as he carries on his one sided beef with your plushie.

"they cuddle you while im not here?"

mark crawls over to your plushie and grabs it by its soft neck, his fingers wrapping around the entirety. he pulls it close, putting his nose right up against the toy's. "you wanna say that again, tough guy? don't you know who i am?"

"mark, what're you doing -" you giggle, leaning back on your elbows to watch the ridiculous display before he shushes you.

"hey, you stay out of this. i'll deal with you later." he snaps before turning his attention back to the toy. "oh, you don't care? well, let's see if you care about this -"

mark suddenly shoves the toy into his face.

he flops down atop your bed, wildly flailing with one hand while the other mushes the plushie against his face. he's comically good at it, too, looking like he's being mauled by some feral cat.

he's only emboldened by your uncontrollable laughter: grunting with effort as he rolls over the stuffy and delivers a few blows. even making his own sound effects before he rolls onto his back, your toy gaining the upper hand once again.

this time, he sits the toy atop his face and flails like he's being suffocated. eventually, his body falls limp. the hand that isn't holding the toy upright falling limply at the side of your bed.

your plushie's fought dirty and won.

"i dunno, mark," you manage to say between hiccuping laughs, "you seem pretty vincible to me."

"very funny." comes his muffled voice from beneath the toy. he sits up, stuffy still in hand as he fixes you with an accusatory glare. "laugh. yeah, laugh, while your boyfriend's being mercilessly beaten."

he crawls closer and he thrusts the toy in your direction, waving it side to side by the back of the neck, holding it at arm's length like he's afraid it'll attack him. "i guess you want him now, don't you?"

you raise a brow. "don't misgender my plushies, grayson."

mark retracts the plushie and flips it upside down, looking at its bottom. "oh, right."

you let out a chortle of laughter and he's on you in seconds: pinning you down and smushing the plushie against your face, making kissy sounds while you breathlessly beg him to stop.

[zorosdimples]

when you enter your apartment after a grueling day at work, the last thing you expect to see is your boyfriend in casual clothes—brown cashmere sweater, black trousers, the soft slippers you bought him for his birthday—with dinner on your kitchen table.

the sight stops you in your tracks, and before you can say anything, nanami kento walks up to you to grab your work bag and press a kiss to your cheek. “join me for dinner?”

after the delicious meal, he insists on cleaning up the kitchen himself, and shoos you away to take a shower.

once you shower and change into nightwear, you pad into the living room to see kento in the kitchen, lighting a candle, your favorite drink in a glass on the counter. you join him in the kitchen, and he turns to meet you in a warm embrace.

“what’s all this for?” you ask, speech muffled since your face is buried in his chest. he pulls away to inspect you, sharp eyes soft in the candlelight.

“do i need a reason to treat my girlfriend to a nice evening?” there’s a hint of humor laced in his tone, something only you—who know him inside and out—can hear.

his heart buzzes with warmth as your lips spread into a lighthearted grin, one he hasn’t seen in days and dearly missed. “well, if you insist,” you tease, grabbing your drink and pulling him toward the couch.

[desihopelessromantic]

JJK FRIENDLY REMINDER:

gojo probably has PTSD (Post Toji Stress Disorder)

[oddinary4bts]

hii i have an angsty drabble request for jk x reader pleasee but with a happy ending :)

Reader overhears Jungkook talk to his friends and mention how she’s always clinging on to him and doesn’t let him breathe sometimes and that she’s annoying because she’s too loud and energetic. When he comes back home she acts the complete opposite and tries to avoid him without letting him know what’s going on, until he realises that he actually prefers her clingy and loud🥺

Sorry if i went into too much detail

For some reason this was hard to write?? I hope it's still good and what you wanted to get <3

What's wrong? | jjk

☆pairing: Jungkook x reader

☆rating: 15+ (I use curse words a little too much for me to rate this PG 13 hahaha)

☆genre: slice of life!au, angst, fluff

☆warnings: unedited, alcohol, pet names, curse words, Jimin and Seokjin are sorta mean? but not really

☆word count: 2.8k

☆☆☆☆☆    

   

You like hanging out with Jungkook. Like that he invites you whenever he goes to eat at his friends’ house, like how he just includes you in his life all the time. You want to be with him – always. You’re aware that it might be a problem, that you’re young and shouldn’t be spending your entire time with him, but still you’re at an age where you see yourself settling down, building a lifelong relationship.

And of course you want it to be with him.

You’ve been drinking a couple of beers with Jungkook and his friends Jimin, Taehyung and Seokjin. Jungkook is staying sober, as he’s the one driving tonight, but you’re two beers in and you have the biggest need to go to the bathroom. You’re sitting next to him, and a look to his profile has you smile dreamily.

You can’t believe you’ve landed the man of your dreams in your early twenties. You never thought you had luck in life, until you met Jungkook. So you don’t hesitate before pressing a kiss to his cheek, telling him that you’ll be right back.

You’re quick in the bathroom, already excited to be back by his side. You step out after having cleaned your hands, taking three steps towards the living room, but you freeze in your spot when you hear your name being said, followed by, “Is she always clingy like that?”

You’re pretty sure it’s Seokjin speaking. Then, “Doesn’t it get on your nerves?” This time you think it’s Jimin, and your previous joyful state slowly falls as you keep listening, even though you know you shouldn’t.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says flatly. “She’s always clingy. Sometimes I feel like she doesn’t even let me breathe.” Each of his words stabs through your heart, and you instinctively put a hand above the spot that aches as he continues. “I can’t even see you guys alone.”

You want to tell him he’s full of shit, because he’s the one that invites you all the time, but all you can do is listen.

“And she’s so loud too,” Jungkook continues, and it makes you wonder how long he’s been bottling up everything inside. Because it’s the first you’ve heard him complain about you, and it really doesn’t feel good. “She’s always moving, always speaking, sometimes I just want to tell her to stop.”

“Bro,” a voice says. Taehyung. “She just went to the bathroom, she might hear.”

From where you are you can even hear Jungkook’s sigh before he says, “Right. I don’t know, it’s just been a lot.”

His friends offer him words of reassurance that you don’t really listen to, Jungkook’s words just spinning in your mind. It takes a moment for the hurt to shift to anger, but when it does you clench your jaw, determined to make him regret saying that.

If he thinks you’re too clingy, you’ll offer him the exact opposite. So when you go back, stopping to grab another drink in the kitchen first, you sit on the other couch, next to Seokjin. Seokjin offers you a tight-lipped smile, and you try to smile as brightly as you can, ignoring Jungkook’s confused look as he stares at you.

You keep the act on for the whole evening. Even in the car, on the way home, you angle yourself towards the window, answering with ‘yes’ or ‘no’ or ‘I don’t know’ to whatever Jungkook says. The perfect picture of indifference.

When you get home, Jungkook asks you if you want to watch the episode of the anime you watch together that was released earlier today, and you tell him he can watch it without you.

“What?” he lets out, but you’re already strutting out of the room, moving towards the office where your PC gaming set-ups are.

Jungkook follows you, watching you turn your PC on, and when the monitor comes to life he leans against the doorframe.

You ignore him, putting your headset on. You type your password in, and then as the computer finishes turning on, you spare a single glimpse towards him. He looks like he wants to say something, but he remains silent.

When he figures that you’re really going to game, he moves to his own PC, turning it on as his tongue plays with his piercing. His eyes burn into your profile, but you keep on ignoring him, focusing on the Steam store page. You move to your collection, scrolling down as you search for a game to play. You settle on F1 2023, even though you usually never play alone, and as the game loads Jungkook speaks.

“Do you want to play together?” he asks. “We could play in multi…”

“No, all good,” you interject before he’s even finished his sentence.

Now, his tongue pokes at his cheek before he nods curtly. He chooses to play Overwatch instead, which doesn’t surprise you, and you sit in silence for about an hour, except the occasional curses he lets out because he keeps losing.

You don’t lose. You’re playing the storyline, which you’ve always found pretty easy, and you just enjoy the races, ignoring how your heart still aches from what Jungkook said. At some point, Jungkook curses loudly, and you glance at him once, an eyebrow cocked, before focusing on the race that is starting in your game.

When you finish it, you decide to call it a night, turning your PC off and pushing your chair back from your desk so you can get up. That attracts Jungkook’s attention, and he’s quick to ask, “Where are you going?”

You don’t even answer because, what would be the point of that? Instead, you go to your bedroom, where you retrieve a PJ and some clean underwear, and then you make your way to the bathroom. You close the door behind you, locking it even though you usually never lock the door. You take a quick shower, mostly to wash yourself before going to bed because you just can’t go to bed if you haven’t showered. You’re stepping out of the shower when the doorknob turns, though it blocks because of the lock.

“What…” you hear Jungkook mutter. And then a little louder, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” you reply.

You can tell he hasn’t moved from behind the door, though you busy yourself with doing your skincare. You’re putting your toner on when Jungkook speaks again.

“Why did you lock the door?” he asks, and he sounds whiny.

“I felt like it,” you say, voice just as flat as it’s been since you’ve heard him at his friend’s place.

He doesn’t like that answer. It’s clear as spring water, especially as he follows it with, “You can’t be serious”.

You cock an eyebrow even if he can’t see you, but don’t say anything as you finish doing your skincare. When you open the door to head to bed, Jungkook is still standing on the other side.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks the moment you come into view.

You shrug. “Nothing. What’s wrong with you?”

He frowns, and that adorable pout of his appears on his lips. You don’t let it affect you – you can’t let it affect you.

“You’ve been weird since we left Taehyung and Jimin’s place,” he says slowly. His tongue pokes at his cheek, before swiping at his piercing. “Something is clearly wrong.”

You shrug your shoulder. “Nah, all good. I’m going to bed.”

He doesn’t stop you as you breeze past him, heading towards the bedroom. He does watch you go, and you almost turn around to tell him that you heard him and that he hurt you. But you decide to make him wait longer, because you can tell that he doesn’t like how you’ve been acting.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

You’re on your side of the bed, facing the wall and scrolling on your phone when Jungkook comes in, hair wet from his own shower. The mattress dips when he sits on the other side and you hear him sigh loudly.

“What’s wrong?” he asks once more. “You’ve been so weird… Did something happen?”

“No.”

You focus on your phone, even as he whines, “Don’t play the innocent game, baby, I can recognize when you’re mad.”

You sigh, loudly, and maybe exaggerating the sound a little. You do like your dramatics after all.

“Am I mad?” you ask, still not looking at him. “Do I have a reason to be mad?”

You can hear the frown in his voice when he says, “Clearly you do. But I’m a little lost.”

At that you turn on your back to glance at him where he’s sitting. He’s only wearing the boxers he usually wears to sleep, and it almost makes you forget all about what he said earlier. You hold on strong though, saying, “I thought you didn’t like me when I’m clingy”.

His mouth falls open as his gaze widens in recognition. “Oh,” he lets out. “You heard me.”

He deflates as you nod curtly, before turning your back to him again to focus on your phone. Mostly because the reminder suddenly has tears forming in your eyes, and it makes your heart ache in your chest uncomfortably.

“Babe,” he gently says. When you don’t turn, he presses, “Come on, babe, look at me”.

You’re stubborn. You don’t turn, don’t say anything. Just blink away the tears that are slowly winning against your will not to cry.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says after a moment of silence, only interrupted by the sniffle you fail at keeping in.

“Whatever, Jungkook.”

He scoffs. “Don’t whatever me. And don’t call me Jungkook.”

It’s true. You usually never call him by his first name, preferring to call him Kookie.

“I’m really sorry you heard me say that,” he adds after you haven’t said a thing for almost a minute. “I’ve always found you clingy but… I don’t mind, babe, I promise.”

“It’s a little too late for you to say that,” you answer, and you turn off your phone, resting it face down on the bed so you can wipe the tear that’s escaped from your eye, tickling the bridge of your nose where it refused to fall.

“No, seriously,” he insists. “I really like when you’re clingy. I’m sorry if it came out sounding as if I don’t.”

“You complained about not being able to see the guys alone,” you point out. “As if you’re not the one to invite me all the time.”

He moves, and the bed shifts as he gets closer. He puts a hand on your arm, but you shrug off his touch.

“I do invite you all the time,” he says. “Because I want you to be there.”

“Didn’t sound like you want me to be there at all, Kookie.”

The nickname has him put his hand on your arm again, and this time you let him do it.

“I know, I realize that now,” he says carefully. “I’m really sorry I said that. You are clingy, that’s true, but it’s what I love the most about you.”

“What about me being loud?”

He hums, realizing that you’ve heard that part too. “I love your energy. Always makes me smile. It felt so weird tonight because you barely spoke.”

“Yeah…” you let out.

“It made me realize that the reason why I love you is because you’re loud and energetic and always trying to goof around. It can be a lot to handle for some people, but not for me.”

“Kookie…”

“I’m serious!” He pauses and when he pulls on your arm you let him turn you on your back. He bristles at the sight of your tears, quickly drying them. “Fuck,” he curses as he wipes your cheeks. “I’m so, so, sorry. I was so stupid.”

“You can’t say shit like that,” you tell him, and a new wave of tears hits.

“I’m fully aware,” he says as he blanches, showing you just how affected he is by you crying. “Please be clingy. Be clingy and annoying and never leave me alone.” He lies down to pull you in his arms, and you rest your forehead against his chest. “Be my favourite pain in the ass. I don’t want it any other way. I should have realized before.”

“But why did you say that in the first place?” you ask. “It was mean.”

“I know…” he trails off. It takes him a moment to collect his thoughts, but he soon says, “Honestly I think I just said that because I’ve been exhausted because of how busy it’s been at work. I attributed it to you, which was the dumbest thing I could do.”

“You have been busy,” you comment, because it's true. You've seen how it's affecting him.

“Yeah.”

There’s a silence, as he just runs a soothing hand on your back, pressing soft kisses on the top of your head once in a while.

 “You know,” you eventually say. “If you want to hang out alone with your friends, you can. I really don’t mind not coming every time.”

“But I want you to be there!” he insists. “I really do, I promise.”

You sigh, nuzzling your face further into his chest. “Are you sure?” you mumble against his skin.

“Yes.” He presses another kiss to the top of your head, his grip tightening around you. “And now I’m going to be the clingy one because you scared me tonight.”

“Why?” you choke out as he holds you so tight you almost can’t breathe anymore.

He loosens his grip just a little, before saying, “I don’t know, I felt so awful after saying that. I think I realized right away that I actually didn’t feel like that at all and that I was just using you as a scapegoat because I didn’t want to speak about work with the boys.” He pauses, shifting a little so your head is resting on his chest now as he lies on his back. “And then you were distant all evening and I thought ‘that’s it, she’s going to break up with you, you stupid idiot’.”

For some reason, that makes you giggle against him.

“What?” he asks.

“I won't break up with you, but you really are a stupid idiot.”

You can almost hear him roll his eyes, though knowing him he probably has a teasing smile on his lips. “But I am your stupid idiot.”

“You are,” you answer, wrapping your arm around his waist so you can hold him close.

“I really am sorry I said that,” he says after another comfortable silence. “I should have spoken to you about it first. Saying it to the guys was low of me.”

You nod. “It was. But I’m not angry at you, I understand where you’re coming from. I do move a lot and speak a lot, so if you’ve been tired then it’s probably been a lot to handle.”

“But I love handling it, don’t take me the wrong way,” he says. One of his hands moves under your jaw, making you tilt your head back until he’s looking at you in the eyes. “I love your bubbly personality, it’s the reason why I started dating you in the first place.” He pecks the tip of your nose, before adding, “With you there’s never a boring moment. And I don’t want any boring moments in my life. I just want you.”

“Gosh,” you mumble, as you feel yourself blushing. “Why are you so cheesy?”

“You deserve it!” he exclaims, and you both laugh softly. “I’ll be so cheesy from now on you’ll hate me.”

“I don’t like cheesy,” you mumble in agreement, though the smile on your lips tells otherwise.

“Don’t care, you’ll get it anyway,” he teases, and he kisses your lips then.

His pink lips are infinitely soft. Always are, even in the middle of the winter. You don’t know how he manages to achieve that – your lips are chapped as soon as the weather is a little dry. But his are soft, always, and it feels like heaven to kiss him. The ache that was in your heart finishes dissolving then, as you focus on how his mouth moves against yours, how he sighs softly in the kiss.

And when you pull away, he presses another kiss to your forehead. “I love you, baby,” he says, lips moving against your forehead. “I’m so sorry I was a dick tonight. I won’t ever do it again.”

You nuzzle your face in his neck, pecking the mole he has there. He laughs, arm tightening against you.

“I accept your apology, Kookie,” you say. “But please don’t say stuff like that to your friends again. We can talk about it first.”

“I promise,” he says. “I’ll be the one to get on your nerves now, you’ll see.”

“You always get on my nerves,” you tease, just because you feel like being a little shit.

“Excuse me?” he asks, and you hear the pout in his voice.

“I love you too, Kook.”

Now it turns into a smile when he says, “That’s better.”

And the best thing is, it really is.

[nikoisme]

Personally I imagine that Telemachus has his mom's hair color and eyes,, but he still creepily looks like Odysseus. So, naturally, I have to ask:

Do you think that Penelope sometimes flinced when she saw her son? Because he looks so much like her husband?? Like, he would pass down the hallway and greet his mother, and she would think it's Odysseus - a flicker of hope on her face, only to realize it's her son. And after a while Telemachus doesn't know if that brief drop of her face is disappointment because it's him or because it's not Odysseus.

Do you think Eurycleia sometimes openly cried when she looked at Telemachus?? Because he has the same slightly impish grin just like his father?? Just like the boy she raised so many years ago?? Do you think she unconciously scrubbed more thoroughly around his thigh? Telemachus would wince at the sudden roughness and Eurycleia would realize that he doesn't have that scar that needed more cleaning to make sure debris didn't get stuck in it??

Do you think that Eumaeus would rush out of his hut when he heard Telemachus laugh? Because, as he got older, even his voice started sounding a bit like his father's?? Only to abruptly stop when he realized that it's not his master??

Do you think that even Telemachus would stare at a bronze mirror or at his reflection in a puddle and try to see his father - the one he barely remembers - in his own reflection?? He would imagine himself broader, stronger, with a beard?? His mother told him that he got his hair and eyes from her. So he tries to imagine something else in their place. He doesn't know what he's even looking for or thinking about. Just something, anything to get a bare idea of a man that is his father.

And do you think that as years went on, others started seeing more and more Odysseus in him and less and less Telemachus in him? Even if it wasn't intentional? They treated him like his father. They would offer him the fruit his father loved. They would sometimes expect him to wield the weapons his father could. They would tell him how much he looks like his father. And Telemachus would simply smile in response. But over time it was a slightly pained smile. At first he prided himself for all of that, he wanted to know everything about his father. He wanted to know how much of his son he is. But he finds the fruit sour. His arms slightly tremble when he tries to string a bow (not necessarily The bow™).

Do you think that over time, even he started feeling less and less like himself? Do you think that subconciously he tried acting like his father (based on the stories he's heard)? For the kingdom's sake, for his mother's sake, for his own sake? After all, "son of Odysseus" was his main trait. He was haunted by the ghost of the man he doesn't even know. But he does know him, doesn't he? Everyone tells him just how much he is like his father. But what part of him is like his father?? What part of him is like his father? Everything he does, everything he is, is apparently an echo of his father. But what part is Telemachus? What part of Telemachus is like his father? Is he like his father or is he slowly becoming his father? His voice isn't his own. His skin isn't his own. Hell, the blood in his veins isn't his own. It's the blood of Odysseus. Is that who he is?? A replacement for the king?? A mere stand-in until he comes back?? If he comes back?? Will he always have to act, to be a copy of his father?? Will he ever be himself? But who is he even? Who is Telemachus? Yes, he is the son of Odysseus (as a way of identification). But who is simply Telemachus?

DO YOU THINK?

[onceonafullmoon]

Convos with Rin pt 2

Rin x Gn! Reader

No warnings! Just pure fluff, as with the first one you can read this as purely platonic if you'd like. Part 1 here.

“What’s your ideal type?” You ask suddenly.

The breeze blows through where the two of you sit on the bleachers, causing a strand of hair to pull from behind your ear to drift in the breeze.

“I dunno, never thought about it.” Rin replies, his brow furrowed slightly.

“Pfffft– laaaame.” You drag out, snickering mentally at the way his eyebrows crease at the sound.

“Then what’s yours?” He asks.

“Easy!” You say with a grin. “An eldritch horror.”

“I– what?” He questions, his head turning to meet your carefree gaze.

“An eldritch horror.” You repeat.

“Explain?”

“Well, it’s like this: “Oh Cuthulu, harbinger of destruction and insanity, you ask me, a mere mortal, to become one with you for eternity? I’d be honored, o old one.” You say dramatically, crossing your hands along your chest in a dramatic manner as you serenade an imaginary Old One.

“Why the hell would you want that?” 

“I don’t know about you, but near eternal slumber sounds like a delight to me.”

“…god you’re weird.” He says after a while, but his words hold no real weight to them.

“Hey, you talked to me first!” You protest, looking at him in mock offense. “You grabbed the shovel and dug your own grave, don't you forget that.”

“My biggest regret.” Rin says lowly.

“…I wish it was.” You say somewhat wistfully, your eyes briefly glimpsing a bittersweet memory out on the snow.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You say, shaking your head. "How was your game Rinrin?”

“Don’t call me that.” He says curtly.

“Oh okay.”

You sit in silence for a while, taking in the breeze and the distant sounds of children playing before you open up your mouth again.

“How was your game dipshit?”

“You can fuck right off.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t have to resort to petty insults if you just admitted you like the nickname.”

“…whatever.” He scowls, turning away from you.

Unfortunately for him, you can see the tint of red on his cheeks.

“Oho? Is that a blush I see? The prince of darkness has feelings? Oh my god they grow up so fast.” You coo out, much to his annoyance.

“I should just leave.”

“But you won’t!”

“…but I won’t.”

“Heh, love you too.” You say with a grin. “You didn’t answer my question though.”

“It was the same as usual.” He relents with a sigh, and the conversation moves from there, flowing like the lazy breeze on that summer day.

[jaettps]

"i don't believe friendship between a boy and a girl exists."

being best friend with suna rintaro for years, you didn't expect to hear those words come out of his mouth while you're sitting on your bed. you were scrolling through tiktoks each on their own phone, and you saw a video with a boy joking about being in the friendzone. you laughed and shoved your phone in his face, expecting him to find it just as funny as you did. but the only reaction you got out of him was a little grin and that sentence. the sentence that left you quite a lot puzzled.

blinking fast, you frowned and looked at him: "wh-what do you mean?"

suna took a deep breath and put his arms behind his neck, getting in a restful position. "well, biologically, we're made to procreate. so when you find someone whom you can bond with, you can't help but think of them as a potential mate."

you still didn't get it. seeing your confused expression, suna breathed loudly again and dropped the scientist-like act he put on. "one of them has got to be in love with the other."

you mantained your baffled expression for a second, then burst out laughing. because he must be kidding, right? suna raised an eyebrow and looked at you with the same face as you. "what are you laughing at?"

"well, i am not in love with you!" you joked back. then your laughter faded, as the words he just said sinked in.

suna was probably hearing the wheels in your mind turn. with excessive nonchalance, and a badly hidden smirk, he checked his phone and just said: "ah, it's gotten pretty late. 'm goin' home."

and with the biggest audacity in the world, he leaned in and planted a kiss on your cheek. then he got out of your room, leaving you with the same position and expression for about five minutes.

[jessfandrawer]

"If you wanna buy me flowers, just go ahead now." - Two Princes, The Spin Doctors

Hey, it's finished! In addition to liking the story/moment idea, it's a bit of a style test to see if doing a longer comic like this is feasible. I think it is? But yeah, it would take me a long time. Drawing, coloring, and lettering everything was a ton of work! It's nice to get some comic making practice though.

This is pure sugar, so I apologize for any dental work you may need after reading.

Edit: Variegated tulips mean "beautiful eyes" in flower language in case nobody was wondering.

Link to the bonus page 😉

[cyxnidx]

DATE NIGHT !

characters: pantalone, dottore, cyno, kazuha, zhongli.

warnings: a bit smutty on dottore & pantalone, each will have their own individual warnings.

summary: them taking you out on a date <3.

a/n: in honor of me hitting 400+ followers ~ // got a little carried away with dottores .. sorry

PANTALONE !! (implied blow job) ; has always wanted to spoil what’s his. you never knew a moment in which he didn’t want you to himself, always greedy for you. he’s always gave you his heart and soul, greedy for your happiness. greedy to see you smile, your soft interactions with him, and the way your face changes while talking with him. even seeing you do the simplest of things, it made him so happy. so content. which is why he took it upon himself to take you out for dinner for the first time in a while. he could only watch contently as you ate with him happily, a bit of sauce coating the side of your cheek. “careful, you’ve made a mess.” he’d hum, taking a napkin and gently wiping your cheek. if only you knew the exact same thing would happen as soon as you got home. humming, you smirked sweetly as pantalone coated your face with his cum. with a shit eating grin, he repeated the same words as earlier. “you’ve made a mess, again. such a messy one, aren’t you?”

CYNO adorned you in the outfit you let him choose for you. he just couldn’t get over how great you looked in it, so much so you often caught him zoning out mid conversation. “cyno,” you called, waving a hand in front of his face. “..cyno??” sometimes there was absolutely no way to get him out of his little dream land doing whatever he could think of.. throughout the dinner, he could only stare at you as you spoke happily, about what you loved most and things you wanted to try. though, glared at your waiter for getting along with you ‘too easily’, or that’s what he said was the reason why. “im not jealous. i just dont like the way they look at you..” he said once you addressed it. “right..” you rolled your eyes, allowing him to guide you up a slightly steep hill, sitting with you under a tree. the moonlight reflected off his skin beautifully, creating a soothing caramel glow. “y’know..you have really pretty skin.” you said mindlessly, grabbing his chin and smiling softly, only to be met with a confused stare. “huh?”

DOTTORE !! (choking, possible size kink?, dottore being dottore…) ; never hid his intentions with you, but loved the suspense of having you guess. making small noises every once in a while, he giggled to himself. that was probably the only way you knew he was in a particularly good mood. however, he was a bit more quirky today compared to usual. he came home the same, but was so..giddy. it almost scared you. what got him so happy in the first place? and how exactly was it so..fitting..that it got him to make the noises he was now? between the maniacal giggles and the slight hums, you couldn’t tell how on earth he got that happy. though, with a simply grasp of your wrist, you were dragged away into your bedroom. “dottore?” you asked, trying to steady your shaky vision. was he feeling moody today? “stay still for me, dear.” was all he said as he wrapped his hand around your neck, free hand working on undoing his belt and pants. “dottore, we don’t have t-“ he shushed you, smirk forming slowly. “just need you for a few moments; that’s it.” he said with a smooth voice, though, nothing about him could be considered smooth right now. his smirk only turned to a maniacal grin as he watched you squirm under him so pitifully. it almost made him feel bad. almost. “20 minutes is all i ask. wont you give me that much?”

KAZUHA to you and kazuha, a date wasn’t much of something that stemmed off of food, dinner or even going out. of course, he loved spoiling you, but with material things isn’t his forte. he much rather give you all his time, energy and space. go out and explore things with you much rather than buying or wasting time on things you’ll only wear once or twice. he’d rather make beautiful memories and see new landscapes. which is why he decided on taking you out to see the sunsets of Liyue, enjoying how the shades of orange and pink blend together, stars forming slowly. “it’s so beautiful,” he sighed, eyes looming all dreamily. you couldn’t help but stare at the scarlet color against the beautiful landscape. “you ever think about how pretty your eyes are?” you asked. he turned to you, blinking slightly. “is that so?”

ZHONGLI is what you’d consider a simple man. much like the romantic type, mostly. always buying you flowers randomly, getting you chocolates and going as far as leaving you little notes just for a bit of fun. so, dinner didn’t make any difference. despite the weather, he came over after shopping a bit and began cooking dinner. though, it surprised you a bit. he never said anything about him cooking, only coming over to spend time with you. come to find out, this is what he meant by spending time with you. finding a show you both enjoy, cooking, and eating together. it made him warm thinking about it. the thought was enough to make him crave you more than ever. the rain outside only extended the moment more, dripping rain falling softly outside creating a nice feeling. kissing you on the forehead, he smiled contently after setting your plates on the table in front of the tv. “i love you.”

[friendlyneighbourhoodelf]

post order 66 codywan governed by irrationality. cody is irrationally angry that obi wan didn’t look for him. even when he rationally knows that obi wan didn’t know he was alive, or even his reasons for staying on tatooine. obi wan is sometimes irrationally scared that cody might try to kill him again, even when he rationally knows that he is not the same man who tried the first time. does he fear that if this happens he might be forced to kill cody to protect luke and all he represents? or does he fear that he’d be unable to do this, that ultimately his love for cody would win over his loyalty to luke (to anakin)? does he fear being forced to choose? is cody guilty that he’s hiding whilst his brothers fight? that he failed to protect them earlier and now he’s failing them again?

[atsoomi]

It's been exactly 2 days, 4 hours, and 32 minutes since you and Kuroo got married.

It was the kind of wedding you thought you’d never get the privilege of having— small, comfortable, and filled with familiar faces— not to mention, the most memorable day of your life. You’d never thought you could be that happy, or that you’d be surrounded by so many people who shared the sentiment. But if Kuroo has done anything through the course of your entire relationship, it’s prove your negative thoughts wrong.

And then, of course, came the honeymoon. 

Previously, you’d argued with him a lot about where to go for the honeymoon period. He thought somewhere in Japan— like Hokkaido with its breathtaking natural scenery, or Kyoto with its countless temples— would do just fine. But you’d nagged him about taking you somewhere outside the country, reminding him of the fact that you live in Japan; you have the rest of your lives to travel around Japan, but who knows when you’ll get the chance to go to Europe again?

After a few weeks of going back and forth, discussing all the possible locations and looking up things till one in the morning, you finally agree on Italy, specifically, Venice. It’s the perfect mix of culture and fun for both of you, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t dying to see The Grand Canal, especially with all the lights at night.

So, after a day of post-wedding packing, and a long day of traveling, you’re finally in Venice. In Venice, on your honeymoon. And it would be absolutely perfect, if you hadn’t lost your husband of two days in the crowd of locals. 

You’d done a lot, a lot, of research on spots in Venice that you wanted to visit during the 3-week stay. And you’ve always known (after a lifetime of fantasizing about this trip) that if you come to Italy, you have to try their gelato. So you went through a few articles, bookmarked a few websites, and found this shop, Gelateria il Doge. 

It’s been described as a hidden attraction, and you’ve always loved discovering hidden gems. The excitement was so overpowering that the first thing you decided to do once you settled down in your hotel room is go out and find it. Kuroo can’t say no when you’re so excited, so it only took twenty minutes to find yourself at the desired spot.

You went in, without Kuroo because he insisted on slowing down and taking some more pictures, and you finally ordered the gelato you’ve been thinking about since you agreed to come to Italy. But it seems to have cost you your husband.

He’s not where he was standing five minutes ago, you turn and scan the mass of people walking by, but you don’t spot the familiar head of dark hair. Your phone rests in your cross bag but your hands are full with gelato, so you hesitantly accept your fate and sit on the nearest bench you can find, assuming that you’ll just spot him when he comes back from wherever he went. 

You sit and admire the cold treat in your hand, it’s beautiful and inviting and it makes you feel like you’ve never had ice cream before. It makes you feel like your life is about to be altered permanently, even though you’re not completely sure what flavor you got— something about poor Italian skills and taking risks.

You’re about to taste it for the first time, practically salivating at that point, when a strange guy sits on the same bench, seemingly popping out of nowhere. You pause, mouth shutting, as you peer at him with caution. He’s undeniably good looking, skin-kissed tan skin and brown hair falling over warm green eyes, but he’s not exactly your type. No other man could be.

You attempt to ignore his presence, but he turns his head and you make intense eye contact. Your mouth hangs slightly open as he scans your face, it’s awkward and you feel the awkwardness paralyze you into speechlessness. You’re sure you look incredibly dumb but your mind is too busy malfunctioning to save you. 

His eyes go down to your hand and he says something in Italian that you don’t understand. A few seconds pass by before he reaches for it, your hand that is, with wide eyes. You reflexively flinch away, alarmed at the sudden approach. What the hell is going on?

“Oh my god, you idiot, the gelato.” He speaks, frustrated, this time in the language you can understand, with a heavy Italian accent. 

You look down at your hands and you’re surprised at the trail of melted gelato on your hand. Oh, he’s not a creep, you realize, he was just trying to help.

You bashfully keep your head down, embarrassed at how you reacted and the fact that you were too tense to realize he said the word gelato about 3 times. God, this is embarrassing, where is your husband when you need him? 

“Sorry about that,” you lick the melted sweet off as discreetly as possible, “I don’t speak Italian.” 

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Yeah, I can tell.” 

You’re silent, ashamed to be specific, as you eat the rest of your gelato before something else happens. He observes you for a few minutes, as you eat from both cones to prevent any disasters, before he chuckles quietly. 

“Tourist?” He asks. 

“Kinda,” you answer, slowly relaxing as the embarrassment wears off. 

He nods, “How did you find this store then?” he points to Gelateria il Doge. It stands there proudly, almost mocking you for making a fool out of yourself in front of a local.

“Oh, lots of research.” You laugh to yourself, remembering the sight of a very tired Kuroo by your side while you’re on your thousandth new tab. “It actually wasn’t that hard.” 

“Do you like it?” He asks. 

“The gelato?” 

He shakes his head, “Italy.” 

“Oh,” you smile, “yeah, it’s lovely and I’ve wanted to visit for a really long time.” He hums approvingly so you go on. “You’re Italian, aren’t you? Grew up here?”

“Kinda”, he retorts and you giggle, “I grew up in the south, but my brother lives here.” 

You nod your head in understanding; more questions are on the tip of your tongue (like his name for example?) when you’re interrupted by a familiar voice. 

“Oh I thought you looked familiar.” You turn your head and see your husband of two days walking towards you and this Italian stranger. He beams at you, happy to be reunited with the sight of your lovely face, but halts for a second when his eyes shift over to the guy. He tips his head to the side, silently asking about him, and you just smile. I’ll tell you later. 

“You weren’t going to eat both gelatos yourself after all,” the Italian says, which reminds you of the two cones you’ve been holding yourself the whole time, and the fact that your husband walked off and left you all alone, in Venice of all places. You’ll definitely yell at him once you’re alone, but for now, you settle on standing up and handing him his cone. 

“I’ll leave you lovebirds alone now, enjoy the honeymoon, ciao.”

He winks at you discreetly, maybe not discreet enough because Kuroo suddenly places his arm around your shoulder protectively, and you manage to wave at him before he’s gone. 

Kuroo turns to you, eyebrow raised, “was he hitting on you?” 

You laugh, “that’s all you care about, isn’t it? What about telling me where the hell you’ve been? Or apologizing for making me wait so long,” you slap his chest, “it’s actually your fault I had to entertain another man.” 

He holds your hand against his chest, grinning at the fake annoyance in your voice, “I apologize my dear, dear wife.” His eyes rest on the ring he put on your finger for a second, feeling prideful. “ Let’s sit, we have to finish this before it melts.” 

While you eat, you tell him about the whole interaction with the Italian man and every small thing that happened while you were apart. He scoffs at the events between you and the guy, fully convinced that he just wanted an excuse to touch your hand. You laugh and tease him about how attractive the guy was, telling him maybe you should’ve gone with the guy who didn’t leave you all alone. He flicks your forehead before you can continue and that conversation gets lost between all the other topics. You ask him what he was doing while he was gone, and he smiles, all-knowing and mysterious. 

“You’ll see.”

[stranded-labyrinth]

i said it before but i need to say it outside of my tags this time. hannibal is absolutely 100% the boyfriend that tries to embarrass will with "cutesy" things. it's made infinitely worse because no one can ever see it coming. it's impossible to predict. nothing in his tone or body language or anything gives away that he's about to refer to will by some pet name that puts aphrodite herself to shame. in one statement he will simultaneously embody count dracula and a girl from 2014 pinterest. he will come up with something to say in front of others that makes you as an onlooker feel as though you've just watched 10 hours straight of pda between the two. he uses this power rarely enough in person that no one expects it, but via calls or texts? will debates shutting his phone off at work but knows that he can't because hannibal can and will just come to his work and repeat what he said over the phone in front of the whole morgue. the dead bodies are cringing.

[possibilistfanfiction]

surgeons au - when they get engaged?

[@gohandinhand hbd pt2 lol // ao3]

//

‘chief superion?’ dr. alvarez says, poking her head into your office and looking more frazzled than you expect and much more frazzled than you ever want to see any of your doctors, especially your head of ortho. ‘do you, uh — do you have a moment?’

you never have a moment, but you close your computer and nod, motion for her to come sit.

‘actually, i… can you come with me? it’s for…’ she sighs. ‘please?’

it worries you, instantly, because this would never happen if things were business as usual, if everything was running smoothly. ‘what’s going on, dr. alvarez?’

she hesitates. ‘it’s ava,’ she finally admits after a few seconds. 

you’ve spent decades perfecting the art of looking calm when you are very much not, but this tests you immediately, the jolt of panic that shoots through your body. when silva had joined your residency program, he had frustrated you beyond measure: you thought her unserious, impatient, selfish — the only reason you had any patience to begin with is because jillian had recommended her so warmly after ava’s time as her doctoral candidate. but you were so, so wrong — about her work ethic, her overwhelming compassion, her deep bravery and even deeper capacity for love. beatrice, from even before she had matched with your hospital, had been your favorite in a way that you trusted her to, one day, take over your program and continue to make sure it’s the best in the world — even better, you’re certain. she’s unshakably calm under pressure, good with patients and colleagues alike, a skilled surgeon and even more skilled teacher.

but ava is special in a way that feels too close to even say — your mentee, the incredible leader of next generation of neurosurgeons and researchers: miracle after miracle, delivered with a bravado and a kindness that’s impossible to teach.

so you nod, stand and grab your cane with the steadiest hands you can manage. camila leads you, silently and quickly, clearly also trying to act calm, to the nearest staff bathroom to the OR, and you open the door and then see ava sitting on the small bench there, slumped over a little to one side. normally, ava never stops moving, always fidgeting, gesturing, greeting you with a wave and a daily attempt to get you to come up with a secret handshake with her. but now, ava’s face is set in a pained grimace and her body is noticeably still.

‘hey, dr. s,’ they say, trying to smile, but it doesn’t work.

‘hello, dr. silva.’ you feel caught in no-man’s land for a moment, with ava so still and camila hovering worriedly. 

‘so, i, uh. well, first of all, my surgery went great. secondly, please don’t tell bea until we know what’s going on.’

‘ava —‘

‘— i can’t move.’

you don’t have any comforting thing to say: you’ve seen ava’s scans over the years, especially when her back has flared before; you know about how jillian is always working on more effective injections, better tech. you hear about it when you visit her lab for business, and you also hear about it over quiet dinners at either of your houses, with the lights low and her voice taking on a sadder timbre than the determined, professional clip when she’s talking only of science, not of love too. 

so instead you nod and walk toward ava, crouch down with only a few clicks in your knee — you’ll take it. ‘numbness? tingling?’

‘i —‘ ava’s voice shakes and she takes a deep breath, steadies herself. ‘i can’t feel anything. it’s — there’s just nothing.’

you go through a few more questions and she answers with what you can tell is honesty: she’d been in pain lately but nothing out of the ordinary, especially with the winter weather rolling in; there wasn’t anything concerning before operating, or else she certainly would’ve postponed; after she finished — eight hours of concentrating and microscopic movements later — when she sat down, things degraded quickly from there.

‘i had my intern page cam,’ they say, ‘because i just — bea is going to panic and go into worst-case-scenario mode, and i don’t know if it actually is worst-case-scenario or just, you know, a passionate flare-up.’

all of you can guess that this is not a normal flare, but, ‘okay. let’s get an mri then. but i don’t want to move you without a brace and a backboard.’

ava pouts.

‘you know i can’t justify just helping you transfer to a chair right now.’

‘yeah, but it doesn’t mean i have to like it.’

you place a tender hand on the top of her head and she leans into it, just for a moment: a comfort, quiet and small and, you imagine, as much as she can accept right now.

‘alright,’ ava says, sniffling. ‘let’s get this show on the road.’

/

you would never take away ava’s autonomy, especially not now, but when you show her the scans — the worst worst-case-scenario results — she bites her bottom lip, clearly trying not to cry, and you say, ‘can i page dr. choi for you?’

ava looks toward the ceiling in frustration, in fear, in anger, in grief. ‘yeah,’ she says eventually. ‘yeah, i want her here.’

/

it’s a risky surgery, one that even you feel unsure about: if things go wrong, or, really, even if they go right, ava could have worse chronic pain and irreversible paralysis. beatrice accepts those risks steadily when you talk to her privately, when camila is doing one final pre-op update of ava’s vitals, her mouth set in a firm line, jaw clenched tightly.

the risks that shake both of you are much worse: too much blood loss, stroke, a lack of oxygen to the brain. you don’t want to say them, let alone think them about ava, but they both deserve to know, to choose.

but, ‘there’s no other options, are there?’ beatrice says, finally sitting down and putting her head in her hands, running a hand over her hair and then sitting back in the stiff chair, slumped, horrified. 

your silence is the only answer she needs, because she’s brilliant and there’s nothing else you can say: you will do everything in your power. she knows that. 

‘just — i love him.’

‘i know,’ you tell her. ‘i do too.’

she nods. ‘okay,’ she says, steeling her resolve as she looks to ava’s room. ‘okay.’

/

‘hey,’ ava says, ‘can you scoot where i can fully see you with this stupid neck brace on?’

even without being able to move, even scared out of her mind, ava glares at you. it makes you want to smile, the fight that sits in her bones. 

beatrice sits carefully on the side of ava’s bed fully in her line of sight. ‘what do you need, my love?’

ava smiles softly. you wonder, briefly, if she feels the grief of not being able to touch her partner, always so tactile. ‘don’t pretend this couldn’t end really badly, please.’

‘ava.’

‘bea.’ 

beatrice frowns, staring down at their linked hands, held tightly even if ava can’t himself.

‘i’ve lived way longer and better than i ever thought i would,’ ava says.

‘and you’ll have plenty of good time left,’ beatrice says, stubborn even still.

‘well, i hope so,’ ava concedes. ‘but i just — i gotta ask you something, just in case.’

beatrice swallows, clearly fighting back tears, and nods.

‘there’s a ring in my tan purse, the one i never use.’

beatrice does start to cry then; she shakes her head.

ava’s smile is so, so sad. ‘i was waiting for, like, the perfect moment or the perfect plan. which you still deserve, but, well.’ she shrugs with her jaw clenched in pain. ‘i can’t get down on one knee right now, but i know you’ll like the ring.’

‘i — i’ve known,’ beatrice admits, which has them both laughing through tears. beatrice dries ava’s cheeks first, then her own.

‘and you didn’t say anything?!’

‘i knew you wanted to ask. also, i was just looking for a spare mint; it didn’t seem fair to ruin your surprise for such a ridiculous reason.’

ava shakes her head. ‘that’s very kind.’ and then, ‘so, what do you say then?’

‘i, um — i have a ring too, in my winter pack.’

ava grins. ‘so that’s a yes?’

‘yes, ava,’ beatrice says, then leans forward to kiss him softly. ‘of course it’s a yes. as soon as you can, i’ll marry you. i’ve wanted to for years.’

‘wow,’ ava says. ‘okay, cool. sweet. it’s a yes from me too, obviously. also — is it a big diamond? family heirloom?’

beatrice laughs, despite it all. ‘i thought a diamond band might suit work better.’

‘hot,’ ava tells her. ‘well, when i wake up, i expect it.’

‘i’ll send lilith to rifle through all our belongings as soon as i can.’

ava sobers. ‘i wish i could feel you.’

beatrice cups ava’s jaw gently, her thumb grazing over her cheek. ‘i’m here.’

‘i love you,’ ava says.

‘i love you so much, ava silva.’ beatrice smiles, watery and terrified and sorrowful and grateful. she kisses ava, who leans her head up as best she can with a neck brace on. ‘in this life.’

ava nods, sniffles, and then looks at you, resolved, determined. ‘let’s do it.’

/

‘promise me,’ ava says, loopy from the drugs already administered in her IV but not asleep yet, ‘that you’ll take care of her if things don’t work out.’

‘things will work out.’

ava shakes her head. ‘we both know they might not.’

you smooth your hand over ava’s hair. ‘you are both loved beyond measure,’ you say, and ava takes it in.

‘well, try your best not to fuck it up.’

you laugh, and ava grins, and then her eyes flutter closed.

/

you explain to beatrice — now changed into joggers and a hoodie you’re sure was once ava’s — her alma mater not even close to beatrice’s — since it’s the middle of the night, lilith sitting stiffly beside her — that ava is alive but there were complications: too much blood loss, low oxygen levels. her spine is stabilized and you think — you hope — that part, at least, was successful, but you’re just not really sure if ava will wake up — or, if she does, what her cognitive function will be, who she’ll be. 

beatrice takes it, just for a moment, like a physical blow, but then she nods. ‘thank you,’ she says, quiet and polite without fail, but lilith looks on, concerned. 

‘we’ll monitor him closely in the neuro icu,’ you say, ‘and hope for the best.’ you don’t think beatrice has prayed in years and years, but there’s a rosary, probably lilith’s, clenched in her hand. 

‘okay,’ she says, and follows you quietly there. 

even though beatrice is a surgeon, seeing ava hooked up to so many monitors, drains and leads and an oxygen cannula in her nose, seems to give her pause, slightly unsteady on her feet — just for a moment, but enough for you to think nothing of it when you take her in your arms and hug her tight. unlike ava, who is always physically affectionate, beatrice has been reticent for as long as you’ve known her. but she sinks into it this time, letting out a shaky sob while you rub her back, and then steadies herself eventually. 

she sits down by ava’s bedside, faithful as always, and brave, and fishes out a box from her pocket, opens it and then slips a beautiful ring onto ava’s left hand. ava’s hands are cold, you know, because you made personally sure that she was comfortably settled in bed; but beatrice just holds steady, brings it to her lips, kisses the cool, still skin there. 

she murmurs something — please wake up; please don’t leave me; i love you, you’re not sure. 

you’re technically both done with your shift and also behind on so much paperwork, but you settle down at the nurse’s station and watch ava’s vitals as beatrice prays.

/

jillian brings you breakfast early the next morning, kissing your forehead in a show of affection that you both rarely allow at either of your workplaces. but she loves ava too, for years now, even longer than you, and so she takes you by the hand and leads you into her room. beatrice is asleep on mary’s shoulder, shannon bringing coffee for everyone. there certainly aren’t this many people supposed to be allowed in an icu room, but it doesn’t stop anyone because it doesn’t really matter: whenever a nurse comes in to change a dressing or an iv, you all stay out of the way. it’s quiet, small conversations only. you think ava would probably hate it — the lack of stupid jokes, beatrice’s bright laugh, mary and lilith’s fondness not at all masked by their snark.

you take turns getting beatrice to eat; you sleep lightly. eventually jillian makes you shower, changing out of your scrubs and into comfortable slacks and a soft sweater she’d brought you. 

it stays like this for two days: so many people from the hospital dropping by to see how ava’s doing, to drop off flowers, to check in with beatrice too. ava’s kindness is remarkably present even when he’s not fully; being returned tenfold. you don’t even ask or say anything, just make sure that beatrice’s shifts are covered by your other cardio attendings, and so she waits, sentinel. 

and then, just as beatrice is about to doze off again, 46 hours after you’d finished surgery, ava groans. beatrice shoots up like she’s not sure it happened, a specter too good to imagine. 

‘ava?’ she asks hesitantly.

it seems like a herculean effort, and you wait with bated breath, but then ava fights and opens her eyes. ‘hey bea,’ she says, weak and rough but coherent, aware, sure. 

beatrice smiles, immediate tears running down her cheeks. ‘hi.’

ava lifts her left hand — a miracle in itself — an inch or so off the bed, but easy, natural, and sees the ring there, beams. ‘hot.’

beatrice kisses ava’s forehead, her cheeks, her mouth — joy, everywhere.

/

you walk ava down the aisle, almost a year later — it was slow going, at first, and then more and more progress in physical therapy, beatrice’s steadfast reassurance through even the most frustrating, painful days. but now you’re here, ava smiling at your matching canes. 

‘wouldn’t be here without you,’ he says, in his wispy, beautiful white dress and immaculate makeup. 

you smile, hug her to you. ‘it’s an honor.’

you walk her down the aisle, steady and easy, both of you, and then watch as she stands, grinning at an already emotional beatrice. visible below her hair that falls just at her jaw, the newest scar along ava’s neck — from your scalpel, as careful and neat as you could — has faded; is still fading; has healed.

[etherealyoungk]

more mingyu brainrot :D

mingyu was telling you something but you weren't listening. your eyes kept going down to his arms and your eyes raked over his chest. the shirt he wore hugged him perfectly and hugged his arms, showing off his biceps and you were just :0 as you looked at them.

"babe, you okay?", he asks, once he notices you're zoning out.

"hmm. y-yeah", you muster looking back up at him. "so you have to add the eggs after otherwise it'll get overcooked", he completes. and then you remember, he was telling you a recipe and teaching you how to cook something, but everything he said went straight through your head because you were too busy getting distracted instead of listening.

"y/n?", he prompts again. "hmm", you say, looking back up to meet his eyes again. he notices where your gaze has been and tries to hide the smirk that threatens to break across his face.

"what's wrong? you look distracted?", he asks, fully aware of what the 'distraction' was now.

he takes a step closer to you from the other side of the kitchen counter and another. his hands go on either side of you, caging you between them as you're now trapped in mingyu's arms. you're eyes flick over to his arms once again and you gulp, nervously, but also with getting a bit shy.

"i couldn't help but notice how you were admiring my arms", he prompts with that stupid smirk on his face. "i-they're cool", you say, getting nervous and he leans forward and your eyes flick down to his lips.

before you know it, he scoops you in his arms and picks you up, so you're sitting on the counter now and he pulls you closer, his arms on your waist, strong and warm.

you bite your lip. "your arms are kind of distracting", you finally admit and he chuckles.

"you're so cute when you're shy", he says kissing your cheek before kissing your lips, making your head spin and butterflies erupt in your stomach. his hand reaches up to cup your cheek as he moves his lips against yours, his lips soft and plump. he pulls away, only for you to chase after his lips as you kiss him again, pulling him closer by the ends of his shirt.