#⋆｡°·☁︎ next day's rain

[shouyuus]

chapter two: tell no tales

roronoa zoro; 3,029 words; fluff and angst, enemies to lovers, slowburn, depressed!zoro, ship therapist!nami, dick!zoro bc he cannot process emotions, no "y/n", trauma bonding

summary: in which zoro starts to believe in ghosts

a/n: hi from the new blog friends! yes, i know it's a little confusing, but please bear with me !! this series is indeed moving to here to the new blog, but the masterlist will live on my old blog till i've got all the links up, and i can reblog onto the new one.

< to the table of contents

The following hours are a blur of bodies and color, the setting sun bleeding out over the distant sky, the tiny island retreating in the distance as the Merry jolts along the choppy waves. Nami’s hand, Luffy’s arm, Usopp offering to take his midnight watch, Sanji pressing a bottle of something and a tray of riceballs into his hands.

Zoro drinks. And drinks. And drinks.

He drinks until the earth sways beneath him in ways he’s certain isn’t just the rocking of the ship. He drinks until the sky pivots above him, seeping into the darkness of his little corner room. He drinks, and he sleeps.

And he dreams of you.

In his dreams, you’re vibrant and laughing, your cheeks full of color, your lips brushed in reds or pinks or purples. You offer him a freshly made mochi, your fingertips dusted in rice flour. He reaches out for it but just before he can take it, the tiny little sweet splits open to reveal a raw, bleeding heart.

Blood trickles between your fingertips, slicking down your arm like pomegranate juice.

Zoro looks up to find you smiling, but there’s blood oozing down the sides of your face, collecting in the dip of your collarbones from a massive gunshot wound to the side of your head.

You cock your head, offering him the bloodied mochi.

“C’mon, take it! Everyone else got one!”

He jerks awake to a quiet knock at his door and Sanji’s muffled voice from the other side.

“Breakfast, mosshead. Made your favorites — grilled mackerel and miso soup and rice. I’ll uh — keep it warm for ya, but not for long, okay?”

Zoro swallows passed the dryness in his throat, closing his eyes and pressing a hand to his face, shielding himself from the bright orange light seeping in from the little window in the corner. After a few more minutes, he swings himself out of bed, dragging his swords with him down the hallway into the kitchen.

Everyone is there, gathered around the hanging table, talking in whispered tones. They all go quiet when Zoro rounds the door, and Usopp clears his throat, leaning back with a forced lightness.

“Seems like we’ll be hitting the next island soon!” he says, eyes darting towards Nami, who sighs and nods.

“Yeah, it’s only a few more days till we get to the next island,” she says, glancing back down at her hands, “then it’s straight up into the Grand Line.”

Zoro nods, dropping into one of the empty seats and pulling the only fully set tray of food towards him. He stares at the carefully arranged items — the fish grilled to skin-crisp perfection, the miso soup still hot enough to steam, the rice fluffy and sweet.

He picks up his chopsticks.

“Good,” he says, his voice too soft, “the faster we get there… the better.”

It’s strange, how Zoro’s never before believed in ghosts. But now, he sees the shadow of you in everything he does. In the swift swish of his swords through the air, in the flutter of wind in the Merry’s sails, in the rhythmic creak of the planks of the main deck.

He thinks of you, of the sadness that had flickered in your eyes the second before Crocodile (or Mr. 0 as he’s known in Baroque Works; they’d since figured out his name and his ranking, but not much else) pressed the gun to your head and pulled the trigger.

He finds himself reliving the moment, sinking into the infinitesimal space between the breath and the gunshot; he searches it as if there might have been clues tucked in the way your throat had caught or the specific way your lashes had fluttered. He thinks, at least, you hadn’t looked scared.

And maybe, that in and of itself is the mercy.

— — —

He sees you again in Mag Mell, a tiny jewel box island tucked along the edges of Paradise. It’s an island of dreamers, of poets and painters, musicians and mystics, with wending streets papered in silver dust, and houses painted in dessert-bright colors, with pearl-gilded roofs, and golden-tipped steeples hung with glittering crystal bells that tolled by the passing hours.

People here sang easily and laughed freely, and it’s all Zoro can do not to look for you around the bend of every street corner, to jolt at every single peal of bright, unabashed laughter.

You would’ve been so happy here — at least the you from his childhood memories. Guilt claws at his insides. He should’ve done more — should’ve tried harder to save you —

So when he does catch glimpse of you, the you that’s been haunting all his all sleepless nights, he isn’t sure if he’s actually dreaming. But how could he be? They’d just docked hours ago — with Sanji and Usopp off shopping for groceries, and Luffy plowing through the market for food, Nami doing… whatever Nami does in cities like these.

At first, he thinks its his eyes playing tricks — his subconscious toying with him in this place that seems so cruelly perfect for the you of his memory, as if his dreams hadn’t been ruthless enough. But then, he hears your voice, and he’s sure it’s you.

He follows you down one twisting alley, and then another, the streets folding over one another like tributaries to a mother stream. Around the third bend, he loses you, and for a frantic moment, he finds himself spinning around himself once, twice, until a thin pair of arms slams him up against the far wall, painted a deep mahogany red.

“What part of don’t follow me are you not understanding?” your voice is nothing more than a hissed breath, tight and angry and pleading, but it’s yours.

The next moment, Zoro has you flipped, pinning you to the opposite wall, this time in a blinding turquoise, his teeth bared, a sword poised at your throat.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asks, forcing out the words, his heart a wild, untamed thing beating in his chest, hard enough to sting. His eyes are too wide, searching your face desperately as if looking for a sign, a slip-up that might prove you’re not who you look like you are, and yet —

The wry way your lip twists up has his stomach roiling within him. You stop struggling, tilting your head to look at him in the gather of shadows of the deserted alley.

“What? Forgotten me already? And here I thought dying in front of you would make more of a lasting impression —”

“Exactly,” Zoro bites back, unable to stop his sword from digging into the skin of your neck, a thin line of blood seeping out from beneath your otherwise unmarred skin, “I saw — I watched you —” his throat seizes forcibly over the word die and he struggles for a few seconds before he jerks back, “I watched you get shot.”

You rub at your throat with a ginger hand, drawing it away to stare at the rub of red there, your expression inscrutable.

“Yeah… that you did.”

He whips his sword out to the side before slipping it into its sheath with a dull shink.

You eye it warily, the late afternoon sun creeping into the alley inch by golden inch. It kisses at your toes and creeps up your ankles as you stare at the sword at Zoro’s side.

“That was Kuina’s, wasn’t it?” you ask.

The name slams into Zoro like a gut-punch, and it’s all he can do to keep himself from stumbling.

“So what if it is?” he asks, a quaver to his voice that he almost doesn’t recognize. He turns away from you to stare at the strip of street visible from the darkened alley. A little girl with twin pigtails skips by holding a fistful of multicolored balloons, giggling as a boy races after her, trying to steal one.

“Can’t believe you still have it after all these years.”

“Yeah, well. Call me sentimental,” but his voice is flat, almost sardonic as he turns back to stare at you.

You allow him a helpless grin, “You always were more sentimental than you’d let on. Even when we were kids.”

“You died,” he spits the word out like poison, and you flinch, almost as if struck by it. He takes a deep, steadying breath but makes no move to back down as he asks, “so how the hell are you still here?”

You press your lips, casting your eyes away, your head lowered.

“You’re on a crew with a guy made of rubber — can’t you figure it out?” you ask, rueful and quiet.

Zoro scoffs, “So far as I know, there ain’t no Devil Fruits that can make you immortal.”

You wince again, though when you do speak, there’s a weary humor tacked to the ends of your words.

“You were always smarter than you let on too,” you say, finally looking up, “you’re right. It’s not a Devil Fruit.”

Zoro frowns, unable to keep the intrigue from bubbling up his chest as he watches you.

“Then…” he trails off, waiting.

A golden shaft of sun slants fully into the alley now, finally high enough to hit the side of your face, casting your features into stark relief. Like this, he can see the hollows of your cheeks, the blueness in your lips. But also, the flicker of light that once danced like fireworks behind your eyes.

“It was a deal,” you say, as the sun shifts behind a soft gauzy cloud, tossing the island into a momentary shadow once more, and your face is again shrouded in darkness, “with the Devil himself.”

— — —

“So… you can’t die,” Sanji says, stubbing out what must be his fifth cigarette since the beginning of the conversation.

A half-finished dinner service lays in an array of dishes before you, but even Luffy isn’t reaching out to pick at the remains.

You shake your head, “No, that’s the thing — I can. I just don’t tend to stay dead.”

Nami frowns, “But how does that even work? You get killed, and what — you just… respawn?”

You sigh, letting out a tired laugh, “Something like that. I die, and I wake up the next morning exactly in the last place I went to sleep.”

“Whoa, weird,” says Luffy, finally reaching for the remains of a whole roast chicken, stuffing a drumstick into his mouth.

You nod, “Very.”

Usopp is chewing on his bottom lips, looking concerned, “But… I mean — when you do d-die… does it still hurt?”

You slowly pivot to stare at him, your expression carefully neutral.

Beside you, Zoro shifts slightly, and everyone goes strangely still as they wait for your answer.

“Sometimes,” you say, carefully, “if the person killing me decides to make it hurt.”

Sanji leans back, staring up at the broad canopy of stars above the deck of the Merry.

The silence that stretches over the table is fraught with implication. Eventually, you let out a long breath, leaning back in your chair.

“But you get used to it after a while,” you say, the shadow of a smile quirking your lips.

Zoro narrows his eyes, “You make it sound easy.”

His voice is hard, his gaze fixed on a point just over Luffy’s shoulder. Beneath the low dip of his unbuttoned shirt, you can still see the remains of the scar Mihawk had left him with. No doubt he was remembering his own close tangle with death.

You lilt your head and roll your shoulders.

“What they don’t tell you about dying is that it’s the easiest thing… but easy doesn’t mean painless,” your voice is light and airy and painfully frivolous, “eventually, easy just means that at least… you know it’ll end.”

Across the table, Sanji lets out a breath as Nami gasps. Luffy purses his lips.

“But… as long as you fall asleep in a safe place, then even if you die, you’ll just wake up there again, right?” he asks.

You fix him with a look, before letting out a helpless laugh.

“Yeah, something like that. The only thing is — when you’re working for the big-bads, they tend to make sure you only ever fall asleep somewhere they can get their hands back on you.”

“But you’re with us now!” Luffy grins, puffing out his chest, “so we’ll make sure you stay alive without having to uh — die first. Good?”

Others might only see childish innocence in his words, but you can see the absolute certainty he evokes in the rest of his crew. And that, more than anything else, makes you believe him.

You let out a shaky breath.

“Yeah, okay.”

Zoro grunts as he gets up from the table, stalking off without another word. Nami sighs, watching him go before rolling her eyes and going after him.

Sanji strikes a match and lights up a new cigarette.

“Let him be. He was real beat up after seeing you —” Sanji dips his head, “well, you know. And he’s not what you’d call super in touch with his emotions, I think.”

He shoots you a good-natured wink.

You laugh, a tired, rubbed-raw sound, nodding.

“Yeah. I know.”

Sanji taps off a bit of ash and leans forward, “So — what’s the story?”

“What makes you think there’s a story?”

Sanji blows out a series of smoke rings before reaching over to refill your glass, “Mosshead’s not exactly known for makin’ friends wherever he goes, if you know what I mean,” he slides you smile before continuing, “so if he’s this —” Sanji pauses to cast about for a proper word, “attached… to someone, I figured there’s just gotta be a story, right love?”

You sigh, nodding as you take a long sip of your drink, savoring the coolness as it slides down your throat.

“You’re right… there is a story. But I’m not sure it matters much anymore. We’re both…” you look down at your hands, pale and pink in the fading firelight, “not the kids we used to be.”

Sanji shrugs, “Neither is any of us,” he coaxes, voice gentle, “but that doesn’t mean the kids that we were don’t matter any more.”

You nod, finally allowing the warmth of the fire to wash over you as you sit back in your chair.

“Alright then — it was a long time ago but… we grew up in the same village…”

— — —

“Hey — where’re you going?” Nami catches up with Zoro just beneath the main deck, the hallway scattered with pinpricks of light, seeping in through the cracks in the planks above.

Zoro spins around, his shoulders hunched.

“To be alone.”

Nami sighs, stopping a few steps short of him.

“What’s with you? Aren’t you happy that your — your friend is alive?”

Zoro bears down on Nami, his eyes flashing.

“I don’t trust her — what if it’s not her? What if it’s a —” he waves a hand through the thickening darkness between them, “an imposter?”

Nami’s eyebrows kick up, “What, finally get your hands on a dictionary in Mag Mell?”

“Fuck you.”

Nami laughs, folding her arms as she leans up against the darkened hallway wall.

“Fine, you don’t trust her — but what else can we do? Leave her here for Crocodile and the rest of Baroque Works to catch up to her?”

Zoro tsks, turning around to pace the length of the hallway, every muscle in his body feeling tight and wrung out.

“Wouldn’t matter much — she can’t die remember?”

“Yes, she can,” Nami says, her words harsh enough to stun Zoro still. She stalks up to him, her eyes blazing in the imminent dark. “You’ve almost died once — tell me, was it a pleasant experience?”

A muscle ticks in Zoro’s jaw, but he keeps his mouth clamped shut.

He remembers it in pieces, in fever-break moments and mind-numbing delusions. He remembers the bone-deep ache that had seemed to permeate every inch of his body, of the dull pounding in his head as he tried to piece together what his crewmates were saying to him, sitting by his bedside. He’d known they were there, but he’d couldn’t let them know, couldn’t force him limbs to move the way he wanted.

It had been nothing short of agony.

“Look, I’m not asking you to trust her but at least think — think about the life she would’ve led in Baroque Works. What they might’ve made her do if they knew that every time she died, she’d just wake up in the last place she fell asleep.”

Like this, Nami’s voice is soft, almost silken. A spate of unease slithers down Zoro’s spine.

Zoro stares down at her. It hadn’t been so long ago that he’d regarded Nami with the same kind of vague distrust.

“Think for a second, about the suicide missions they would’ve made her take.”

Those words ring through Zoro like a death knell, and he takes half a step back, his head spinning with the implications. She’s right, he hadn’t thought of the life you’d led; he’d been so caught up on the vast dissonance between the person you were and the person you'd become. He’d been so tangled in his own feelings of shame and anger that he hadn’t paused to think.

Nami sighs and takes a few more steps back.

“I mean. You heard her — just because dying is easy, that doesn’t make it painless.”

“I just —” Zoro closes his eyes, letting a clenched fist thump softly against the wall beside him. A terrible, hot prickling sensation is working its way up the back of his throat, constricting his airways. He swallows hard around it before turning to look at Nami once more.

“I just can’t stand the thought of losing her again.”

Nami lets out a breathy laugh, bobbing her head once. There’s still a steely light to her eyes, but her voice when she finally does speak is soft —

“Then make sure it doesn’t happen again. I mean, what are those three swords for anyway?”

TAGLIST: @brairslair @msheds0519 @yunabelless @lynndt-chocolate @lostonthrillerbark @stunies @tsumu-senpai @phroggii @ssailormoonnn @breathinginyoursmoke @guridoodles @kyllium @naomihatake @itoshiexx @mythicallystupid @mars-mizuko @astroniii @crispynutella @enhastolemyheart @fanficwriter101 @jamesbparker @dira333 @weirdowithaphone @ink-perfect @lodeddiperrodrick @not-a-glad-gladiator @vinskypuff @itsagoodluckkiss @blondethinkpink @ellelowthere @annievrse @m333myselfandiii @tsubaki3192 @grapelover2000 @teewon @keigoskrio @ggyuslovie @manuosorioh @one17 @monkey-d-hoshizora98 — pls comment below if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series!

[phebbsl]

Warm You Up

I was writing another fic but this popped into my head, oops.

Just a small thing on the different ways that cockwarming SDV Sebastian would go, according to my brain. Not super smutty but it is nsfw, it's more fluffy imo.

Not proofread, lmk if there's typos.

Sebastian x GN!Reader

content: fluff, nsfw, cockwarming

MDNI AND BLANK BLOGS!!

⋆｡˚ ☁︎⋅ ˚｡⋆｡˚☼˚｡⋆｡˚☁︎⋅ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆｡˚☁︎⋅˚｡⋆｡˚☼˚｡⋆ ｡˚☁︎⋅ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Cockwarming was not something Sebastian saw himself doing. Not that he was opposed to it, but he never really had a partner to suggest the concept to. It seemed like it would be more frustrating than anything anyways. 

But it’s become something of a routine for the two of you these days. It wasn’t really something either of you had planned on either, it just happened. 

He hasn’t officially moved in, but he might as well have, with the amount of time he spends at the farm. He walks over, taking his daily smoke break on the trail to your place instead of by the lake or the train station. If you aren’t home yet, he takes the time to pet your farm animals or sit on the bench outside, admiring the hard work you’ve put into the land. And when you do arrive, the two of you make dinner, passing little questions about each other’s day. The two of you eat over bed trays perched on each lap so you can watch something on your old laptop on your bed, quiet hums and speculations interjecting shows or movies. It’s not exciting, nor is it boring. It’s just...peaceful. Domestic. Something he hasn’t really experienced at home in, maybe ever? Perhaps that’s why he finds himself at your place so often. He’s never been the one for daring, passionate relationships anyways, not that this lacks passion. It’s a just nice warmth that cradles the need he has inside him, and he feels so understood by you, something else that’s severely lacking in his life. 

And when you’re both craving some intimacy beyond a good cuddle, but too tired after craning over a keyboard or from whacking down trees/pulling weeds/monster hunting and whatever else you do, you’re so impressive, he thinks, he’ll pull down his pants so you can slide onto his cock. 

The first time was an accident, he’d pulled an all nighter, and almost didn’t even come over. But he missed you more than anything, and craved your touch, only to fall embarrassingly asleep when you got on top of him. He was mortified, barely looking you in the face when he woke up the next morning and realized what happened, but you just shrugged and said it was okay. You teased him about it after too, of course.

But it happened to be the best sleep he’s gotten in ages, and when he asked to try it again, you just obliged and now it’s just a part of your relationship. 

You fall asleep to kisses and hands roaming your body, curled up around each other in a way that satiates the loneliness he feels in himself. And then in the mornings, when it’s too early, the sun barely up, you coax him out of bed by riding him until he spills inside you with breathy whines. Pleased smiles are shared over breakfast and a kiss on the forehead before he goes back home.

Other times, when it’s raining in the mornings, and he’s already in his head, he wakes you with hard, desperate thrusts, drawing orgasms and moans from you until the dark thoughts go away. Luckily, you take the rainy days easier, allowing the two of you to stay in bed longer. He takes care of you then, apologizing for the way he treated you, not that you ever mind, and it almost always leads to another round. It's sweeter, tender. You whisper reassurances then, cupping his face and he kisses your brow. 

It starts happening outside of the farmhouse too now. On particularly boring days, you’ll visit him as he’s working, and while you take his job seriously, it’s become a habit to slide into his lap, a sly look on your face as you work on loosening his jeans before sinking down on him. You love the way he groans, head falling back and eyes rolling into his skull as he splits you open. His hands always fly up from his keys, gripping your waist until he remembers he has a job to do. And you stay there, peacefully drowsy until it’s finished, and then he bends you over the bed or couch. You stay the night, not leaving his room, sneaking out in the early morning after one too many knowing looks and comments from Robin afterwards. 

Sometimes, it’s when he’s playing games. Curled up in his lap again, back against his chest so he can rest his head on your shoulder to look at the screen. He twitches inside of you whenever the game gets intense, hips fucking into you as if it’s by reflex. It only makes him play worse, because then he’ll get lost in the feeling of your warmth around him. He passes the mouse for you to take over so he can focus on thrusting into your sweet spots, a hand on your hip to keep you stable and the other on your jaw, turning your face to kiss him  before urging you to focus on the game. 

Occasionally, you get impatient faster than he does, unexpectedly moving or adjusting on his lap throughout the game, making him moan straight into the mic. You give him an innocent look while he glares at you, making excuses to the other players. It repeats until you start moving your hips, bouncing up and down until he breaks. He doesn’t even try to win the game, just pushes away the keyboard and mouse so he can take you right on the desk. The fact that all his teammates could catch on turns him, and you, on more than it should. He rams into you, crooning dirty words, teasing hands never helping you finish until you’re crying and begging him for it. He always cums with the loudest, drawn out sounds, hips still moving until he’s too overstimulated to continue. He pulls you back into his lap with a chuckle and another kiss, ready to move to the bed for a cuddle until—

“Goddamnit Seb! You forgot to mute again!” 

He’s gonna have to apologize to Sam tomorrow. 

⋆｡˚ ☁︎⋅ ˚｡⋆｡˚☼˚｡⋆｡˚☁︎⋅ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆｡˚☁︎⋅˚｡⋆｡˚☼˚｡⋆ ｡˚☁︎⋅ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Lmk what you guys think/which way is your fav hehe

[chestersturniolo]

Rainy Sundays

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

The rain tapped gently against the windows, it made everything inside feel warmer and cozier. It was one of those perfect, lazy Sundays—grey skies, rain noise, and no obligations except to stay inside. You and Matt had turned the living room into fluffy fortress of blankets and pillows. Matt moved a couple of chairs from the kitchen, and you’d draped a large sheet over them to create a makeshift fort. Inside, the floor was covered with the fluffiest blankets you could find, every single cushion from the couch.

Now, the two of you were tangled up under the fort, wrapped in a massive blanket. Matt had his arms wrapped around you,pulling you impossibly close, your head resting against his chest,

“This might be my favorite rainy day ever” Matt mumbled,sounding content as he lazily twirled a piece of your hair between his fingers.

“I think it’s my favorite too” you agree, nuzzling a little closer to him, enjoying the way the world outside seemed so far away, like you were hidden in your own little bubble of warmth and comfort.

He reached, pulling the blanket up higher over both of you. You tilted your head up to see him looking down at you, a small smile playing on his lips. "This fort is seriously next level. I think we should just move in here permanently”

You laughed softly, reaching up to trace his jaw with your finger. "You’d miss the bed after one night, but we can stay here today”

"Fair point” he chuckled. "but honestly, i wouldn’t trade this for anything right now”

On the coffee table beside the fort was an assortment of snacks you’d gathered earlier—bowls of popcorn, chocolates, and a couple of mugs of hot cocoa that were slowly cooling but still within arm’s reach. Every now and then, one of you would reach out to grab something, but mostly you just stayed wrapped up in each other, too comfortable to move much.

The TV was on, playing a random rom-com you’d both seen a million times, but neither of you were really watching. It was just something to fill the quiet space between the rain and the sound of Matt’s occasional soft laugh or your whispered conversation.

At some point, you felt Matt shift slightly, resting his chin on top of your head. "Y’know-" he said quietly, "-there’s something about days like this that makes me never want to leave. Like, if we just stay here, under this fort, time doesn’t matter”

You smiled at that, a warmth spreading through you at the thought. "Yeah-“ you agreed "-It feels like we’re the only two people in the world right now”

Matt shifted again, dipping his head to look at you on his chest. His eyes were filled with the familiar affection that made your heart melt a little. "I think I could do this forever” he murmured, his hand gently rubbing your arm.

You smiled up at him, your fingers drawing random shapes on his chest. "Sounds perfect” you replied, sighing in content.

Hours passed as the two of you stayed wrapped up in eachother, fading in and out of sweet whispered conversation and the sound of rain tip tapping outside. It very quickly became a habit between the two of you. Every rainy day, you’d put up your silly fort, and forget the world.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ

a/n; a quick one bc i had the urge to write some matt fluff before i go to sleep :,)

i need this i need this i need this.

love y’all

- 𝑺𝒂𝒈𝒆 ♡

MASTERLIST

tag list; @sturnobsessedwh0re @nayveetbhh @phone4pills @demzzz @dripgodnay

@sturniooolos @monroesturnns @mattsbitchh @slutforsturnioloss @pvssychicken @tsturniolo4

@brianna-grace12 @blahbel668 @stvrlighht @witchofthehour @ilyttmatsa @asherrisrandom @l0ver-i @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @fratbrochrisgf @emely9274 @yn-ws

[c0eu4]

CL16 | Depress girlfriend ☁︎

Summary: Charles comes back to his shared house after three weeks of intense race. But the thing he didn't expect is to find her girlfriend having a relapse.

Warning: Fluff, depression, hurt/comfort

A/N: Here, we talk about depression and some things that it creates : lack of hygiene, not taking care of yourself..

MASTERLIST requests are open

Depression, that thing that destroys life.

She's under the covers, the rain is hitting the living room windows and her eyes are heavy. Her legs hurt and her stomach growls.

She would scare anyone. Her eyes are red from tears, her lips irritated, her hair messy and dirty. Anyway. She's depressed.

The door of her apartment opens, and she knows it's her favorite Monegasque.

He opens the shutters and sits next to her, giving her a big hug.

''Have you relapsed?'' He asked, softly to not fear her. His hands moving up and down in her back and hair.

She doesn't answer and puts her forehead against his shoulder. She feels tears coming back in her eyes and cry, again. She sob uncontrollably, her body shaking and releasing all the stress she accumulated during the few weeks ago.

His grip around her gets tighter and he puts his cheeks against her hair, knowing that he just has to wait to let her calm down. He keeps rubbing her back until she finally manages to cry less. She separates from him, keeping her head down and can't even look at him in the eyes.

''I-I'm- sorry..'' She said with a weak and shaky voice. Charles put his hand on her cheek, lifting her head up.

''Mon amour.. There is nothing to be sorry about..'' She restarted to cry like a little baby. Charles kissed her tears until they finally stop.

''Have you taken your medicines princess?'' He asked her, trying to not put pressure on her.

She shakes her head as a no. His eyebrow frowned.

''Why bébé ? Talk to me please..'' He stoked her hair with his right hand, keeping his left hand on her cheek.

''I-I..'' She gibberish, tears coming back in her eyes.

''It's ok.. take your time..'' He tries to reassure her and make her talk to him. He hates to see her like that. Since she no longer takes her anti-depressants, she sometimes has days when she feels low. But this time, it's a big relapse. Especially since Charles wasn't there for her because of his three intensive weeks of racing.

She takes her time like he said, taking deeps breaths to calm herself down.

''The reason is stupid..'' She finally managed to say.

''Nothing is stupid when we talk about your mental health chérie.'' He stokes her cheek with his thumb.

''I.. uhm.. It's just that... I had a lot of homework to do and I was lost.. you weren't there to help me and it was like.. I was just incapable of doing my homework.. And I got a very bad grade... then another one... And here I am now..'' She said, trying to not sob again.

He kissed her forehead.

''It's ok chérie. It happens to have some bad grades.''

He retakes her in a comfortable hug and strokes her hair.

''When was the last time you ate ?''

She takes a little time to answer him.

''Maybe two or three days.''

His eyes widened and he put his hands on her shoulders, pulling him back from the hug.

''This is really bad y/n.'' His voice was more firm than he expected. She immediately cried again, looking at the ground, ashamed.

''I'm sorry... I'm so sorry...''

He takes her again in his warm arms, whispering sweet words to her ear.

''No no no no, don't cry chaton.. It's ok.. You know what ? I'm going to carry you to the kitchen and make you a delicious dinner, ok ?''

She nodded against his shoulder, feeling one of his arms going under her knees to lift her up from the couch. She moaned slightly in pain because of her weakness, her whole body hurting.

He walked her to the kitchen, making her sit on a chair, in front of the wooden table. She looks at him making some pasta, her eyes heavy and half closed.

''Mon amour, don't sleep, you need to eat.''

She keeps her eyes open. Charles talked to her the whole time he was doing the pasta, to keep her awake. He knows how much she usually likes his voice and his french accent. Especially when he was talking directly to her. He talked to her about his weeks. When him and Carlos went to paddle, when he was doing his track walk, all the fans he met...

After about twenty minutes, he placed a plate in front of you, full of pasta with tomato sauce. He gives you a fork and a spoon. He put a glass full of water up to your plate.

''Try to drink a bit before eating.'' He sits in front of you with his own plate full of pasta.

She took the glass and slowly drank the water, her throat hurting her.

She caught and started to eat her pasta, Charles looking at her with love in his eyes. Even when she was at her lower, when she was looking like a zombie, when her hair was dirty and messy, when her lips weren't healthy, he was still loving her.

They eat together, slowly. She feels her empty stomach full of food and it makes her feel better.

After their little dinner, he takes her to the bathroom. He undresses her, with her consent, like if she was a little child. He undresses himself and makes her sit in the bathtub filled with warm water. He sits behind her, her back against his chest. He keeps her close to him, stroking her waist and thighs. He helped her to wash her body and her hair.

When they were done with the shower, he dried her hair with a dryer and braid it. He brings her underwear, a short and one of his hoodies, her favorite one. She put everything on, without help this time, feeling already a bit stronger than this morning.

He carried her with his big arms on his shoulder, making her giggle and chuckle. He was so happy to hear her little laugh after so much time away from her. He put her down in their bed, laying next to her. She quickly hugged him and he hugged her back, his hands stoking her back. She bury her nose in his neck, smelling his scent.

''Good night mon chat.'' He kissed the top of her head, nuzzled his nose in her hair.

''Good night Charlie.'' She kissed his neck with a warm and wet kiss and quickly fell asleep in the arms of her lover.

[rainychaoloveshack]

hello >:3

AUAHA okay, uhhh. Continuation of the Night Owl!Reader X Silver?

What I had in mind was something about Reader passing out on him. Whether it’s in public, at home, etc., just something like that. Sorta like a parallel to the other one!

Idk, I’m not very specific just so you have a lot of creative freedom. Love your work!! <3

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞-𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐲. 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠.

sleeping on silver seems to be the highlight of tonight, after an eventful day (with an unfortunate ending).

⋆°•☁︎ content . silver x gn!reader, tooth rotting fluff, reader is mentioned to be a night owl (staying up late often)

☂︎ wc. 1k ☂︎ a/n. i think i got silvers personality more accurate then last time!! HERE is the prequel fic to this ^^ THANK YOU FOR YOUR REQUEST!! sorry this took a while to come out; i had trouble brainstorming up a scenario idea but i got it!

likes, reblogs, and especially comments are extremely appreciated!!! (i like chatting to you guys!)

“The rain’s not dying down.” Silver grumbles, taking a look up at the sky as you both get settled into the train's waiting area, sitting down on a bench set aside to put your shopping bags on instead of the wet floor, along with some strangers huddled under the waiting area with you two, shielding themselves from the pattering rain. “And the trains are going to be late for another hour or so. Look.” Silver gestures to a digital clock above you two, a large announcement in bold letters flying across the small digital screen. “Ah, just our luck…”

‘THERE HAVE BEEN UNEXPECTED DELAYS. THE NEXT TRAIN IS SCHEDULED AT 00:30. WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE DELAY.’

“I would’ve just taken you in my arms and flew home,” Silver makes a small grabbing motion with his hands, chuckling at the very thought. “But with the rain and everything… We’d both obviously get soaked, huh? Plus, with the shopping bags and all.”

If you hadn’t looked so good for your date today, the flight home almost seems like a pleasing thought. Unfortunately, your shopping bags are also by your side today, so that wouldn’t even be a viable option.

Silver shifts around in his spot, his gloves emitting a soft, cyan glow that's clear in the dark, damp atmosphere as he messes around with his fingers. “Sorry.” Silver sighs. “I guess I should’ve checked the weather before we went out tonight, huh?”

Now, now, now, it’s not like the rain’s his fault. You tilt your head at his unwarranted, worried expression, wishing you could get rid of his worries with a snap of your finger. With your forefinger, you poke him in the cheek briefly, waiting for a smile to creep up onto his face. Luckily it doesn’t take you more than two before that lovable smile pops up onto his muzzle.

“Aw, come on. It’s not like I’m down in the dumps about it.” Silver chuckles. “We still had a good day here! Nice spots, nice food,” He bends over a bit in his seat, pointing to your shopping bags beside you. “I’m pretty excited to see you in the clothes that you bought…”

With a small nudge from you once he slips his little sentence out, his small chuckles are almost drowned out by every other voice around you, only the pattering rain staying to mix in with his laughter. It sounds so sweet as it always does, especially tonight…

Ah.

A yawn leaves your parted lips, and you hunch over to rest your elbows on your knees, clasping your fingers together with each other as you check the time on your phone. It feels like time’s slowing down as you both wait for the train’s arrival.

“You’re tired?” Silver asks, almost surprised at your fatigue. “You usually stay up way later than this. What’s the deal with tonight?”

Usually on the nights you stay up, your day was filled with nothing but relaxing at home, maybe at most a small trip outside for groceries, or a short walk with Silver to the nearby flower garden.

But today you went everywhere with him; seeing every sight in the plaza and exploring every little store that caught your eye (evidence being your shopping bags themselves). 

Plus, his presence here is pretty calming, especially with the hustle and bustle of everyone else, with the tapping of their feet and complaining about the rain, the delays, or the time. Paired with annoyed protests about their now-drenched clothing, or their wet bags and whatnot, and calling family or friends to tell them about the situation. Maybe some people here are missing something? Maybe a late-night show? Or perhaps it's just the irritation of the day finally getting to them, now wishing to rest so snugly in their bed and fall asleep. You understand that feeling well.

While deep in your thoughts, you lean back onto the bench and stare down at the floor, watching the puddles ripple with water droplets from above and flow into the pavement. It’s a struggle to keep your eyes open.

“You can lay your head down on me, you know.” Silver says softly, the chattering from the strangers around you, along with the rain hitting the roof of the shelter area, almost drowning out his voice from the haze of your exhaustion. You lean in closer to hear him better, and the moment you do so, it's a breeze to tune out every other voice around you. “You don’t have to be so stubborn about it. I don’t mind.”

As soon as you’re given his permission, you set your bags down on the floor near his feet, settling your body down on the now open spot on the bench and laying your head on his lap, shutting your eyes, the soft fur from his legs and the heat from his body soothing your exhausted heart.

“That was fast.” Silver chuckles, the back of his fingers brushing across your cheek. “You’re reallll tired, huh?”

So soft. He’s so warm, and the rain’s so cold, but he’s here with you. Just you. So warm…

So…

“[Name].” Silver says, brushing his finger across your cheek to draw your attention, yet you don’t fidget or budge at his touch. “You never told me what you bought for me at that store you went into. Er, mind if I take a peek?” Even with his words, you don’t respond to him; you can’t.

“Ah, [Name]?” Silver brushes his finger against your cheek, the fabric smoothing over your skin as you stay asleep, already deep inside a dream; a sweet one at that. “Awe, come on [Name], so soon…?” He whispers, his nose scrunching at your resting form, but it fades as soon as it comes, replaced with a small smile. He’s hesitant at first, but slowly his hand comes to pet your head affectionately, a bit nervous to wake you up, but you don’t stir around in the slightest.

“The train will be here soon. And once we get home, I’ll even tuck you in. Hehe.” Silver murmurs to the resting you. “I won’t look at your little gift, so show it to me tomorrow morning, okay?”

[gwiyeounsonyeon]

May Writing Challenge Day 17, 18!

Pairing: Detective Loki x Male Reader Summary: A conversation with your partner Words: 600/200 Warnings: mention of an old lady calling you a girl, use of Y/N once Notes: I'm not feeling very :) today

☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

“You should’ve let me buy drinks.” You pout down at your coffee, it was lukewarm and tasted vaguely of plastic and was very unpleasant to drink. “Why? The shit they have at the station is just fine.” You look over at David and gawk – “Just fine? Are you crazy?” He huffs and shakes his head, chewing thoughtfully on the toothpick in his mouth. “No, seriously.” You set your cup of very disgusting coffee in the free cup holder and remove your seatbelt so you can twist your body to face him. The click of your seatbelt draws his attention and David looks down at the pretensioner and back up at your face. Your gut fills with butterflies at his gaze but you ignore them and press on, “Did all that smoking kill your taste buds or something?” He shakes his head and huffs, a small smile working up on his face. 

“Sit back in your seat.” You shake your head definitely, – “No.” – “Why not?” You cross your arms. “Because I want to get to the bottom of why you like this shit.” David looks back at you and shifts the toothpick over to the other side of his mouth, “You can do that while sitting in your seat.” – “I am in my seat.” David gives you a warning glare. “Not the right way. Now come on–” He reaches over and pushes on your shoulder firmly to try and get you back in your seat. The touch erupts a fire in your stomach, David was never one to be touchy and every time he did touch you it almost felt electric. You huff and sit back in your seat, he nods affirmingly and looks back out of the windshield. 

You leave your seatbelt buckled behind your back as to not set the warning off, not wanting to give David another reason to kick you out and into the pouring rain. “Try this and tell me it's good” You hold out your cup of offensive coffee, he looks down at it with an eyebrow raised and takes a sip. You see the grimace on his face before he has time to hide it and – “Aha! See? It's bad.” – “It's bad, yeah.” He nods and sets your coffee back into the cupholder. After his agreement you both settle into a comfortable silence, “You know that old lady?” He looks over at you as you break the silence. “Which old lady, Y/N?” He sighs – “The one that moved in next to you.” He raises his brow at you and studies your face as if he's trying to predict where this might go. 

“Every time I go  over to your place she's always out on her rocking chair,” You reach over to turn the speed of his wipers up, as the rain comes down harder. “And every time she sees me she asks me the same question.” – “Which is?” You look over at David from the windshield, he doesn't look amused at all, but he never looks amused. “She always asks if I'm your wife.” David snorts and shakes his head, “That's not real.” You nod enthusiastically, “Oh, it so is. She calls me a pretty young lady and everything.” He shakes his head again and puts the car in drive. “You’re lying to me, and you wanna know how I know?” – “Yeah? How?” He grins and your heart starts beating faster. “Cause you’d make one ugly woman.” You guffaw and scoff dramatically, “You are so mean to me David.” You aren't really mad, you find it hard to be when he's chuckling like that.

[anachilles]

drive the dark clouds far away ☁

If anyone on Earth deserved tenderness, it was Gale Cleven. Throughout the years they’d known each other, he had dropped little morsels of his history into John’s lap, one piece at a time. It was almost off-hand, how he’d do it. Like he somehow hadn’t expected John to capture every one, savour them, commit them to memory and file them away in a special box in the back of his mind. To take them out as he did every so often and piece them together again, wondering about what young Gale had been before he was John’s ‘Buck’, so he had an entire landscape laid before him of what made Gale Cleven who he was. Or: Winter falls in Stalag Luft III, Gale's sick, and John has feelings about it all. -> read here on AO3 <-

A Nazi prisoner of war camp was hardly a place one would ever want to be, at any time or for any reason.

If Bucky had the choice, however, he sure as hell wouldn’t particularly choose to be in a Nazi prisoner of war camp in the middle of what was turning out to be a brutal Germanic winter.

It came on so suddenly, too, or at least that’s what it felt like. One day, the entire camp had been bathed in incandescent autumn sunshine. The kind that illuminated every leaf on every tree, lit the sky up so bright you could barely look at it, and sparkled off the surface of the puddles left behind from the early morning rain. The next day, and the next, and the next after that, it was like someone had gone and thrown a blanket over the sun itself. Everything was grey. Everything was dark. Everything around them started to wilt, to shed, to die.

For every degree the temperature dropped, for every shiver that raced up their spines in the dead of night, and for every dull, drizzly day that inched them through November and closer to Christmas, morale had started to plummet. It crept up on them and burrowed in like a degenerative disease, infiltrating their ranks one by one and slowly, gradually, started to break them down. Tired minds began to conjure bittersweet memories of good food, good music and the encompassing warmth of their families thousands of miles away, such imaginings only making their reality even starker. Anywhere at all outside the perimeter of the compound was beginning to feel like a whole other plane of existence.

At this point in the season, even the hours of daylight they were afforded were seemingly war-rationed. Dark moods, irritability and the icy tendrils of hopelessness had started to permeate the stalag as the sunsets came altogether too quick, and the daytimes were overwhelmingly bleak.

That night, Bucky shifted awkwardly in his bunk, trying to get comfortable in spite of the threadbare cushioning underneath him. It would have been pitch dark save for the slightest crack someone had left in the black-out curtains, letting moonlight spill in and make vague silhouettes out of the sleeping men around him. Several of them were snoring to various degrees of severity (God help them when Demarco properly got going), bed frames periodically creaking, someone even seemed to be humming slightly in their sleep.

The incessant background noise wasn’t the problem, though; the opposite, actually. From basic training, through flight school, then all the way to the war, Bucky had spent far too long now in shared quarters through every point in his military career to be able to sleep surrounded by absolute silence. In fact, if he closed his eyes and concentrated real hard he could probably have imagined himself being back in the barracks at Thorpe Abbotts right then, far, far away from this Kraut hell hole. Okay, the food wasn’t much better there, he’ll admit, but at least there was a stocked bar, actual showers, and no Nazi goons on a hairpin trigger when it came to pointing rifles at them for doing the sum total of jack shit too hard for their liking.

Bucky’s foot bounced in place as he stared a hole into the wooden slats of the bunk above him. Tension pulsed behind his eyes. When he exhaled, his breath materialised as a humid cloud, before dissipating again into the dark. Rain hammered against the window that was definitely draughty. His fingers were so cold they were starting to go white at the tips.

A sharp gasp suddenly pierced through the din, and in the same beat Bucky instinctively snapped towards it, the whirlpool in his brain suddenly stilling, sharpening down to a single point; like someone had ripped the plughole out of a bathtub. In the middle bunk directly across the way, in the shadows of the darkened cabin, the outline of Buck’s body jerked forward with a strangled little click… a pause… and then another. It was an oddly vulnerable sound, the action was chased by a heavy sniffle, and Bucky let out another long, visible breath.

With the insidious chill of deep winter now catching at their heels, illness was quickly becoming another looming problem with their fucked up sleep-away camp experience in the Glorious Third Reich. The often sub-zero temperatures, paired with a widespread lack of proper food, sleep, and provisions, as well as with them living on top of each other in such poorly built cabins (Bucky’d seen more insulation built into the damn backyard chicken coops he’d been roped into helping his neighbours build back home as a kid), meant that it was rife. Take a walk from one side of the camp to the other, and every third guy was coughing and spluttering with something.

It wasn’t even stuff that would necessarily be anything to worry about in any other time or place. Anywhere else in the modern age they lived in, it would be the usual winter crud that went around every year. Stuff that’d have them downing cough syrup, maybe a bit of hot whiskey, and being fussed over a bit by wives, girlfriends, or moms. Here, though? Despite how the men may joke about it to try and outrun the worry, lurking in a darkened corner of the room was an unavoidable reality that if the cold managed to sneak down into your chest and take root, lay you up with a fever you just can’t shake, in these conditions… well. Who knew what could happen?

There were some guys with a decent amount of medical training who acted as makeshift ‘doctors’ in a makeshift ‘hospital’ on site. Although, naturally as airmen, that leant more towards snapping back in dislocated shoulders, setting broken bones, and patching up bullet and/or shrapnel wounds well enough to get the victim to solid ground alive. There was little, if any, actual medicine to go around.

Before, it had been an abstract, underlying kind of concern, one he’d glance at every now and again before turning away, putting it out of his head again. Let himself be distracted by something else, not that there was much else to distract yourself with in here.

But then it was Buck.

Now, John’s body thrummed with a twitchy, nervous beat underneath his skin, some sort of momentum growing within him as his heart rate picked up and an internal debate played out in his head; one he’d been having with himself for several nights now. After only a handful of seconds from when he’d turned around in the first place though, there was another noise, something delicate and unplaceable. Whether it was the sound of teeth chattering or a stone rattling against the wall of the cabin, or whatever else it could be, it had John dropping down on his feet and gathering up his blanket, wincing as the chill of the room enveloped him all at once.

Crossing to Gale’s bedside, John wordlessly and unceremoniously chucked the blanket over the other man’s body, before leaning a hand against the wooden frame of the upper bunk above Gale’s own. He was curled up tight in on himself, arms stiff as they crossed over his chest, as if he was trying to gather any heat to be had around himself and keep it there by force.

John watched, and waited, as Gale sluggishly unfurled himself a little and turned around to face him, expression sleepy. His face caught the moonlight, something jarring in John’s chest at how pale he looked.

“Bucky?” he asked softly, his already rumbling voice now gravelly and shot to pieces. “Did I wake you?”

Unable to help himself, John heaved out a disbelieving huff of laughter, his voice dropping into a murmur “What, with your bizarre, near-perfectly silent sneezing? Yeah, you did, actually.” Gale rolled his eyes.

“Please, just try to be a bit more considerate to the other guests at this fine establishment.” Success curled fleeting warmth within John when he got a hint of a smile out of the other man. It was the first he’d seen from him in nearly two days, and the twitch of his mouth alleviated an increment of pressure in John’s chest he hadn’t even noticed he’d been holding. “God bless you, by the way.”

It would’ve sounded like a taunt if it wasn’t so fond.

“What do you want then, Bucky?”

In pursuit of cutting to the damn chase, because this was all fun and games but now John really was freezing his balls off, he replied “It’s too cold now for any of us to be sleeping by ourselves.”

At that, Gale’s rheumy gaze sharpened, his eyes scanning the room. John briefly followed them as they took in nearly every other man in the cabin having broken off into a pair to bunk down with for the winter.

“It’s okay, Buck,” John supplied, loosening the valve and letting sincerity bleed into his tone even as he lowered it. This is probably the most ‘okay’ we’ve ever been or ever will be to do this where people can see it.

Memories rise unbidden then; awkward, inexperienced fumbles and a hurried kiss in the barely-lit supply closet off an aircraft hangar in Texas while all the other cadets were asleep. Hidden away in Bucky’s short-lived Air Exec office while he still had it, a rare moment of stolen solitude behind a blessedly locked door with frosted windows. The one time they’d dared risk venturing into the woods at Thorpe Abbotts in the dead of night. They were more experienced by then, but somehow only more repressed and desperate for having now known the other’s touch, but having had to go without it for so long.

“Those RAF pricks were right about one thing for certain.”

“What’s that?”

“You were getting too handsy” Gale had said, voice edged in grit, grabbing John’s wrists and yanking them away behind his back.

In the next breath however, John shrugged, adding “And, well, you have my blanket now. So you either scoot over, or I go back to my bunk and freeze to death. Your choice.”

Gale levelled him with a withering look that only made John want to smile in return, but after a brief contemplative moment, a pregnant pause and a steely gaze edged in wary scrutiny, the caginess seemed to melt out of him, like he physically couldn’t hold onto it any longer. He acquiesced with no more fuss about it, shifting closer towards the wall and pulling up the blankets to invite John in. It was a bit of a tight squeeze, these bunks barely made to fit one fully grown man, never mind two, but suppose that was kind of the point of this, wasn’t it? 

John hopped up onto the bunk, the wood groaning slightly under their combined weight, and took the liberty of adjusting Gale a little further onto his side so that he could bracket right in tightly to his back. The length of Gale’s body seemed to slot perfectly against the curve of his own. Back to chest, thigh to thigh, shin to calf. As if by muscle memory, underneath the blankets John’s hand traced a reverent trail down the length of his side, the feeling warm and honey-sweet with familiarity. As was the way he felt Gale relax into his touch, his head turning a tantalising fraction of an inch back towards his face. John’s next exhale came more comfortably than any had in weeks, despite how his heartbeat kicked a little bit harder against his ribcage. Tracing upwards from where his hand had wandered to Gale’s thigh, because he’s nothing if not a goddamn hedonist, John indulged himself with another handful of stolen seconds to touch, to rub and knead affectionately at the curve of Gale’s waist.

This place was hell. A labyrinth of endless days filled with grey, bleak, monotonous nothingness on top of a vague, torturous hope that one day will be the right one; that that day they’ll escape. Or be liberated. They’d been keeping up to date with the state of the war on their homemade contraband radio, listened to and dutifully recited by Gale every night as they forced down boiled garden scraps swimming in dishwater broth. They couldn’t be long now from the invasion of Europe, they tried to reassure each other. It proved enough to get the men out of bed every day and keep them going through the drudgery.

John, though; if he had this. If he had Buck solid and tangible and living and breathing before his eyes and underneath his fingertips, he’d find his way out. The embers that sparked to life in his chest with the feeling of just being near him would light his way out.

A shallow cough sounded from somewhere across the room, and John’s hand froze, even under the shroud of the blankets. Despite arguing the logic of this himself only minutes ago, of why it was ‘okay’, the sudden reminder of the ambient presence of the other men in the room amplified then. John couldn’t help but be aware of it, a shred of unease fluttering to life in his chest.

Swallowing it down, and simply unable to truly pull himself away anyway, he retired his wandering touch and looped his arm around Gale’s middle. His broad hand splayed wide across his chest as he brought the other man impossibly closer. John could feel just how cold he was, even through the fabric of his clothes. That was worrying enough in and of itself, but shock jolted through him like lightning as Gale’s hand brushed his own.

“Jesus, Buck! You’re like ice,” John ground out, reaching to grab it before Gale could move it away again. He knew he likely wasn’t much better, all-too-aware of the pervasive and unshakable chill infecting his own fingers. Whatever last vestiges of warmth he may have had remaining within himself though, hidden away in some forgotten or unreachable nook or cranny, he’d give to Gale in a heartbeat if he could. Even if he couldn’t, he’d try regardless.

Gale’s fingers flexed around his own, joining them, before bringing them up to his mouth and huffing a breath of hot air over John’s hand. The breath caught a little in his throat though, triggering a bubbling of thick, stilted coughs. “You are too.”

John laughed, but there was no humour in it. “Yeah, no shit. We all are…” he said, his tone softening then, even as he prodded the back of Gale’s knee with his own “...but you’re sick. So I’d argue it’s definitely more important to make you not so.”

He felt Gale’s body squirm a little uncomfortably in place against him, shaking his head a little, tilting it down. “It’s just a cold, John.”

“Yeah, for now. But you don’t…” The whispered words fall between them with a heavy clang, echoes of meaning slipping through where maybe they hadn’t been intended. John’s eyes were trained on the back of Gale’s head in the dark, his forehead resting on the other man’s golden crown. Even then, John felt more than saw him stiffen, then pull away as much as he physically could from John’s vice-like hold. He pitched forward with two more clumsily pinched back sneezes, grumbling in annoyance as he then groped underneath the pillow, eyes teary and nose dripping, for the now-worn handkerchief he’d been holding there.

Yeah, it wasn’t exactly convenient, particularly at a time such as this, that they all tended to only have the one on them that they’d had when they went down.

Oh, it was so uncharacteristically inelegant it was actually endearing. A peek behind the curtain at Gale Cleven, the mere mortal. Happy to let himself be sidetracked from his worry for a moment, John dipped into one of the inner pockets of his long coat and pulled out his own handkerchief, gallantly offering it over.

Gale’s head swivelled back, his gaze questioning, and John shrugged. “It’s clean, I promise,” he said, though his eyebrows drew together in sudden contemplation. “Well… mostly. I might’ve washed up with it earlier today…” He made a show of trailing off, pulling the collar of his sweater up over his face and taking an experimental sniff down into it. “Ah, no, definitely not, actually. You’re all good.”

Thoroughly used to his antics, Gale didn’t even blink, though his chapped lips did pull up into a fleetingly small, slow, reluctant sort of smile, before eventually taking it from him. He let the fabric linger in his fingers for a mysterious extra beat, his thumb swiping once over it, before putting it to use. When he did speak, his voice was completely mangled with congestion. “Well, beggars can’t be choosers. Probably would have taken it anyway.”

John winced, the levity leaking back out of his countenance like a faulty fuel line. “You sound awful, Buck,” he mumbled seriously, “C’mon, lie back down.”

Though he dismissed the concern with a telling look, Gale complied and they fell into an easy sort of silence. Their breaths, underlined by the tangible rise and fall of John’s chest against the other man’s back, fell into the slow, steady rhythm held by the rest of the room. Even after a handful of minutes he could tell Gale wasn’t sleeping, though. Neither was he, evidently, feeling like a live wire despite how exhausted and perpetually bone-weary his body had become. He was tired, probably needed to sleep, but at the same time didn’t want to miss a second of their contact now that they had established it. He didn’t want to close his eyes, open them again, and it be morning time again so damn soon, that chasm of emptiness in the space between them returning all too quickly.

If only to give himself something to do, have somewhere to put that gnawing awareness, John gave into temptation. Ducking his head, he pressed his lips to the nape of Gale’s neck. Just once, at first. Experimental; his eyes flitting up briefly to catch Gale’s reaction. With the sight of his lips dropping further open around a sudden inhale he tried to conceal, John took the silent approval and continued in his work. One kiss here, another one there, he marked a languid trail down the column of Gale’s neck and back up again, an answering shiver racing up the length of his spine when John’s mouth teased that one little spot under the hinge of his jaw. It was addictive; and what was Bucky Egan if not an addict?

Having thoroughly surveyed all that he could reach, John’s hand slipped down and palmed at Gale’s hip, urging him to turn back over and face him. When he did, his cheeks were flushed. His eyes still heavy, but now with pupils blown and trained right on him. They pinned John in place, made the cabin, and the camp, and all of Germany, all of Europe itself disappear around him. As if pulled by magnets and with the weight of the last couple of months bearing down on him, John moved to kiss him properly. His eyes snapped open when his mouth met the soft pressure of cold, unyielding fingertips, mere centimetres from the IP.

There was something brittle now in Gale’s gaze when John looked again, that feeling scooped back up and the lid put back on the jar. It still shone through though, muted but simmering away under the surface. Behind the shield of darkness and John’s broad body, Gale’s hand twisted, cupping John’s jaw as his thumb delicately swiped across the seam of his lips. “You’re gonna end up getting sick with me lying here breathing in your face all night.”

John let out a huff of annoyance, exaggerated maybe just a little bit in the hopes of making Gale smile again. “No, I won’t.”

“Yes, you will.”

Despite his amusement at the childish back and forth, John relented, changing course. “Okay, well, if it’s doomed to happen anyway I’d rather it was from you than any of the rest of these clowns, so…” He peeled Gale’s hand from his jaw, his phantom touch lingering in a way he hoped remained corporeal right through until the morning at the very least. In the same fluid movement he turned it around and mouthed his knuckles, then with a heart so full it could’ve burst right out of him, leaned in, slowly, carefully, kissed him anyway.

Oh, he could feign all the long-suffering exasperation he wanted to, but John knew the truth of the matter in how the tense lines of the other man’s body loosened under his hold then, how he nudged himself closer in the new position to close out any hint of a gap and the biting chill that could and would find its way through.

God knew he needed it, too. John wasn’t sure if it was just him that noticed the trail of signs left in Gale’s wake wherever he went throughout the day, subtle or not, that gave away just how crappy he was feeling. Sitting in the same room as the rest of them but far enough away at any given point. The way he’d pinch the bridge of his nose, presumably against the pressure there and the ache behind his eyes. How his chest sometimes seized with the need to cough that had been swallowed back. How he’d been keeping it all held back behind a tight jaw and clenched teeth, a brave face on for the sake of their men and the general morale. Whether he’d choose it or not, Gale knew he was a symbol, much like John, much like any other group’s commanding officers. He had a responsibility.

Now, though, in whatever new strange semi-privacy they’d stumbled upon and could seemingly kid themselves for a few hours they were alone within, it started to crumble.

In the extended silence, with sleep still out of reach, John couldn’t help but reflect on all of that. Right down to the very position he’d found him in when he gathered the nerve to approach his bunk, Gale was so damn protective of himself. Fiercely so, at times, that stoic, guarded veneer serving as a concrete wall between himself and the sometimes inexplicable chaos of the world. When they first met, oh so many moons ago now, John had been tempted to simply assume he lived with a stick up his ass and leave it at that.

Maybe it was because he was pretty in a way that his teenage self didn’t quite have the vernacular to understand yet, maybe it was the quiet echo of his mom’s voice in the back of his head scolding him about not judging a book by its cover, maybe it was divine intuition. But whatever it was, Bucky would thank whatever may have been out there in the sky looking down on them that, for whatever reason, he’d chosen instead to throw all of his chips in on Gale Cleven and insist on knowing him anyway. To push and prod and tease and question and irritate and somehow charm his way into the other boy’s life, into the most genuine, heartfelt friendship he’d ever had, and then further into, well, this. One that allowed him to pull on the thread of the image of himself that Gale presented to the world, bit by bit, without reprisal.

Throughout the years they’d known each other, Gale had dropped little morsels of his history into John’s lap, one piece at a time. It was almost off-hand, how he’d do it. Like he somehow hadn’t expected John to capture every one, savour them, commit them to memory and file them away in a special box in the back of his mind. To take them out as he did every so often and piece them together again, wondering about what young Gale had been before he was John’s ‘Buck’ and how he wished he could’ve been there for him, so he had an entire landscape laid before him of what made Gale Cleven who he was.

If he was stubborn and headstrong and fiercely protective of himself, fine. He had every right to be; had made himself that way out of necessity. Thinking about the circumstances of how and why made John’s heart ache something stupid just to think about, so he made a point to try not to.

If anyone on Earth deserved tenderness, it was Gale Cleven. For having taken the shitty hand life had dealt him and still come out the other side so kind and compassionate, to have taken all the hurt and the loneliness, bottled it up, and somehow turned it into white-knuckled determination to do better with himself. For having made his life something, even if his ambition was originally rooted in defiance against what had been laid out for him. For having the hordes of men in the squadron he presides over look upon him with deferential reverence, for giving them hope by making himself look invincible. Truly uncatchable, even despite having been caught.

If it ever got to be too much, though, especially in here, where home seemed so far away, and the idea of safety such an abstract, unreachable concept, Bucky would shoulder it. Without a second thought, every time. Gale Cleven deserved tenderness, and by hell was John Egan going to do everything he could to give it to him.

John had his moments when he let the darkness in; indulged in thoughts of disillusionment, found himself questioning any number of aspects of what they were doing, how they were doing it, and for what. One thought always ended up shing through the murky din though, a guiding light that pretty much always managed to pull John back in its direction. Back on path.

So long as he and Gale Cleven were on the same side, he knew he was in the right spot.

“Bucky?” His voice reached out, barely there and so soft John could’ve denied even hearing it at all. “You still awake?”

John’s eyes fluttered open, readjusting to the dark again as he blinked away the cobwebs from the sort of half-sleep he’d drifted off into. He hummed in affirmation. “What d’ya want then, Buck?” he echoed from earlier, chucking the other man’s own words back at him with a teasing, heavy-lidded smirk.

The question hung still and charged in the air between them as Gale hesitated, teetering on the brink of losing the nerve to ask whatever it was he wanted. Surely he should know by now, with John being the blatant and irredeemable sucker that he is, could ask quite literally anything of him and he’d find a way to grant him it?

Gale looked like his mind was half somewhere else, eyes unable to fully meet John’s own, and still seemingly debating whether to continue or not right up until the moment the words left his lips. “Y’know what, um… what this needs right now?”

John’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

When it came, it came small and vulnerable. “...vocals,” he said, before catching himself, the word ghosting across John’s chin. “Very, very quiet vocals.” Gale’s hand wound around John’s back, before slipping up the back of his shirt to flatten against John’s freckled back. 

John couldn’t help the smile unwinding across his face, eyes sparkling in the dark with sudden mirth. “From me?” he questioned, infused with faux-disbelief. He made a show of pressing the back of his hand up under his dirty blond bangs to Gale’s forehead, half-teasing about checking for fever, but breathing a very real sigh of relief when he found little evidence of one yet.

“I mean, I did always say you would all eventually come around and see me for the true musical talent that I am. I’m just glad it’s finally being acknowledged, so I won’t hold the delay against you.”

Gale rolled his eyes, though it drew a smile out of him at the same time, even so.

He may have had no hope of being privy to all that went on inside Gale’s head, despite knowing all the important coordinates and the routes to get there. But he could see the sickbed request for what it was, the reminder of where they’d come from. A tether to an old life that felt sickeningly distant now, lost in the soupy abyss of the camp. A yearning for something familiar; anything. He sees just a hint of Gale’s impatience, his growing frustration at their situation and the longing for home, and it fractionally lightens the loads bearing down on John’s own chest. That for all his calm, careful control on the surface, it was confirmation that he felt it too.

Catching them both by surprise, and with grumbled curse, Gale twisted away with another desperate sneeze, newly acquired handkerchief hastily raised. Newly, and sort of relievingly, unrestrained, the harsh sound echoing off the walls of the small cabin.

Uncharacteristically flustered and with an apology quick on his tongue, Gale immediately moved his entire body so they were chest to back again, and he was facing the wall. “Right, that’s it. I’m turning back around.”

“You do whatever you need to get comfortable, and I’ll ahem, warm up,” he replied through a smile, the dismissal of the apology silent but palpable.

Gale fell asleep that night to the soft, dulcet tones of Blue Skies butchered in his ear. Despite the cold, despite the illness, it was the easiest sleep since he’d arrived.

The next morning, Douglass and Hambone were the first to reluctantly extricate themselves out of bed, it being their turn to do the first water run of the day and collect the cabin’s assigned jugs. Once they were outside, confident in being completely out of earshot, the gossip flowed freely.

“Jesus, you’d think Cleven and Egan gab enough to each other during the day, now they’re going to be at it at night too?!”

[littlexscarletxwitch]

Florence pregnant is such a cute idea and I loved your fic about the baby talk! Can I request a fic on Florence being pregnant and the baby being born? WLW couple, first baby and they are so excited!

── ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝗶𝘀𝘆

paring: mum!florence pugh x fem!reader

tag(s): fluff, smut (or at least I tried), established relationship, pregnancy

warning(s): grammatical errors, unedited, not proofread, language, smut, wlw sex, oral sex (r receiving), fingering (r receiving)

word count: 2,504

note: Thank you for requesting this, I had so much fun writing it. I hope you don't mind I added the smut part, it just sort of happened. I really hope you like it. Also guys, (not sure if anyone actually reads this part) in two days I'm going on holidays, so i don't think I will be able to post anything, maybe some Florence's pictures/videos from time to time. But I can't make any promises. I'll tried to work on more fics tho, so once I'm back I'd just post them. I only have one request left for the moment, so I will try to post that before leaving. Also I was thinking of writing for Wanda and maybe some other Marvel characters. What do you guys think? I'm not a native english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Hope you enjoy! <3

note 2: Since this is sort of my universe, I decided that a woman can get another woman pregnant so this would be Y/n and Florence's biological child. Yeah, I don't want men around Florence, even if they are fictional and technically created by me. Flo is for the girls, the gays and the theys.

requests are open! + check my rules here <3

It was raining outside when Florence told you the best news ever. 

You were looking out the window, admiring the rain. There was something so peaceful about the rain that just calmed you down, as though it was washing away all your worries. Billie sat next to you, cuddling in your thighs. She would stir when hearing thunder and get closer to you, as if looking for your protection. 

You were lost in your thoughts that didn’t realise Florence kneeling in front of you until she taped your knee, demanding your attention. 

“What is it?” you asked, you couldn’t read what she was feeling but knew she needed you to know something. 

“Do you remember me being sick the last couple of days?”

“Yeah, what about it? Are you sick again?”

“No, not quite,” Florence looked at Billie, trying to find some comfort and reassurance in her dog. She was scared of your reaction. “I, um, I realised why I was feeling sick.”

“What was it, baby?” you grabbed her hands and squeezed them softly, letting her know you were listening carefully to every word she was saying. She then looked at you, took a big breath and just spilled the words out of her mouth. 

“I’m pregnant,” she mumbled quickly, as if not actually wanting to tell you. 

It took you a whole second to understand her words, your eyes lighted up, a small smile forming on your lips. “You are? One hundred percent sure?”

“Yes, I took three tests. All positive,” her eyes were starting to get watery. 

You hugged her at the confirmation, tears forming in your eyes. But they weren't sad tears. Florence let out all the breath she had been holding since she saw the results of her tests once she felt your warmth. 

“Oh my god. We are going to be mums. I’m so happy. I love you so much, Flo. So so much,” you kissed all her face. 

Billie started to bark at the two of you, almost as if she knew that soon there was going to be a little human keeping her company as well. 

“You’re not mad?” Florence said, tears now running down her cheeks. 

“Why would I be mad? This is the best news ever. I’m going to call my mum, she’s going to love this. I can’t believe this. This is the greatest day of my life,” you kissed her lips and quickly grabbed your phone to tell all your acquaintances about the news. 

Florence could only look at you in wonder. She couldn't believe that just minutes ago she was afraid to tell you about this. How silly of her.

[...]

You guys were waiting for the doctor to call you in. Florence was now three months in. Her belly was showing a bit, but not enough to tell if it was a pregnant belly or a beer belly. You thought that it looked good on her, sometimes even hot. 

Minutes later you guys were called for the check up. This would be the first time you would look at the screen and see some kind of human resemblance. 

Florence was lying in the stretcher, her hand in yours giving you a squeeze. She was so excited to see her baby. 

“How are you guys doing?”

“Everything’s just fine, Doc,” she answered. 

“Glad to hear that. Okay, let’s take a look at the baby, shall we?” you only squeezed Florence's hand even harder. 

A few minutes later, when the doctor was done setting everything up, the screen lit up. At first you couldn’t understand what your eyes were looking at. The doctor said that she was taking measurements of the baby's head, hence the big circle taking up the whole screen. She then moved the instruments further down Florence belly and said that she was now taking measurements of the baby's femur. She did a few more examinations and then said:

“Okay, everything seems good. Now, let’s listen to the baby’s heart beat.” The three of you went silent and then, a second later, the room was filled by a loud thumping noise. “Wow, that’s a strong healthy heart, guys,” you could only smile at Florence, your eyes getting watery in just a second. “Okay, we’re done with the check ups. Let me show what you want,” she moved the instrument along Flo’s belly, and a second later a baby-like image showed on the screen. 

“Oh, god,” that was all you could say, mesmerised by the simple image in front of you. They were tiny, and all you could see was just their silhouette, but you knew they were perfect already. 

You looked at Florence, tears in the corner of her eyes as well, pecked her lips, and whispered in her ear how much you love her. 

[...]

“What about Rafaela?” 

“We are not naming the baby after you, Raffie,” the youngest pugh rolled her eyes pretending she was mad at her sister’s response. 

You and Florence were having dinner with her family, and the baby’s name came up as a topic for conversations. 

“Raffie, I’m sorry. But they are naming the kid after me. Y/n told me earlier, but she didn’t want to upset you,” Toby teased her little sister. You could only roll your eyes at the two of them, trying to hold your smile at Raffie’s clearly now upset face. 

“Toby, stop bothering your sister,” Deborah scolded him.

“I actually like the name Toby,” Florence added, just to annoy her sister even further. 

“Oh, come on, Flo. We can name our child after your brother of all people,” you winked at Raffie. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Toby asked in disbelief. 

You looked at Raffie and the both of you just burst in laughter.

[...]

Florence was now seven months in. Now everyone could tell that you knocked her up. 

You guys were watching a marvel movie. Your arm around Florence while your other hand was trailing small circles in her belly, hoping to get the baby moving. 

“I always liked the name Natasha,” Florence squinted her eyes at you, trying to tell if you were being serious or not. 

“We are not naming our kid after one of your favourite marvel superheroes.”

“Pff, that’s not why I–,” she raised her eyebrow at you. “Okay, fine you got me. What about Natalia?” you tried again. 

“Y/n.”

“Okay, fine. You’re boring.”

“Oh, yeah?” a grin forming on her face. “Am I boring when I do this?” she moved her mouth to your neck, her breath instantly making you shiver but then it turned into a burning feeling once she gently kissed your sensitive skin. 

“You are a bit less boring now,” you tried to suppress a whimper escaping from your mouth. 

“What if I do this?” her hand moved down your shirt to find your breast, you silently thanked god that you weren’t wearing a bra. 

As soon as her hand touched your sensitive nipple a moan escaped from your mouth, but was quickly cut off with Florence’s lips. Her tongue exploring the inside of your mouth, more moans falling from your mouth but muffled by Florence’s lips. Her hands trailing circles and pinching your nipple. 

Once you guys pulled apart to take a breath, she took off your shirt, your whole chest now on display and for her to touch as she wanted. Her right hand went straight to your left breast while her mouth went straight for your right nipple. Her tongue circling it, sometimes even biting it. 

She then moved her lips further down your body, leaving love bites all over your abdomen. Once she reached your shorts, you helped her take them off of you. Panties included. Now you were all hers. She kissed the insides of your tights, getting closer to your core, where you needed her the most. 

“Flo…” you trailed off, not being able to say much, your mind too foggy to think of anything else but her. 

She licked up your slit, earning a moan from you. A grin on her face knowing you were all hers, in that moment and for the rest of your life. She put her mouth and tongue to work, sucking and licking as much as she could. She tasted your wetness on her lips making her aroused. 

“Stop teasing,” you begged her. 

“What do you need, baby?” her hot breath caused goosebumps. Florence knew what you needed —what you wanted. But she needed to hear from you first. Being pregnant made Florence even hornier than when she wasn’t. She blamed it on the hormones. But truth be told, she had always been this horny, but only for you. There was something about you that made her knees go weak everytime she got a glimpse of your body.

“Your fingers,” a whimper escaped from your lips once she bit your core. “I need your fingers, Flo.”

Without wasting another second Florence pushed two fingers inside you, a small cry came out of your mouth. 

“Look at you, taking my fingers so well,” you said before getting her tongue back to work. 

She curled her fingers inside you and stared a small pace, out and in of you, while her tongue attacked your clit. You were a mess under her. Your knuckles were turning white from your thigh grip on the bed sheets, your back arching at her touch, your legs spreading wide open for her to have more access to you. 

She started to thrust her fingers in you faster once she noticed you were close to your realise. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Florence moved her head up just a bit so she could see your face. Your lips were apart, moans coming out of them, your brows were furrowed, she enjoyed that view. Especially you moaning out her name over and over again. 

You felt the knot in your stomach tightening, you knew you were about to finish. “Flo…” you whispered.

“Let go, baby,” and as if on cue, you felt the knot disappear, your hand moved to her head, pushing her even closer to you, her tongue making you scream her name. A soft moan escaped from Florence lips while trying to suck all of your juices. 

She guided you while coming out of your high, her fingers slowly moving out of you. She then sucked at her fingers, wanting to get as much of you as she could. You already missed her fingers inside of you. 

“So sweet,” she said tasting you on her fingers. Then lied next to you, kissing your forehead. 

“I love you,” you muttered, already getting sleepy. 

“I love you more,” she replied, covering both of your bodies with the bedsheets. 

[...]

About three months later, you and Florence were doing some gardening when Florence felt her legs get wet. 

“Um, Y/n, I think my water just broke.”

“Oh, shit. Holy fuck. Oh my god is happening, oh my god,” you rushed inside to get the bag you and Florence had packed a few days ago, knowing the baby would come any day. “Holy shit, Flo, we have everything right? Did you…?

“Y/n, calm down. It’s going to be fine,” she squeezed your shoulder.

“I think I’m going to faint, baby,” you eyes rolled back for a second, Florence shaking you body so it would work properly. 

“Don’t you dare pass out on me, Y/n. I’m the one about to pull a baby out of me, okay? Keep it together,” she suppressed the need to slap some sense into you.

[...]

You couldn’t stop looking at her, mesmerised by her entirely. 

You had been waiting for 9 months and now there she was. You thought the greatest day of your life was when Florence told you she was pregnant, but now this was the greatest day of your life. The day that your daughter had been born.

Florence had given birth to your beautiful daughter just an hour ago. Once your ears were filled by her loud crying, tears forming in your eyes as well as in Florence’s. This was the moment the both of you had been waiting for the last 9 months —meeting her. And god, she was perfect. The first thing you recognized in your daughter was Florence’s little nose, you chuckled at the similarity. 

Not only was she healthy but she was breathtaking. You knew all born babies were ugly, that was the rule of life. But it seemed that for some reason the rule didn’t apply to your babygirl. Because she was the most beautiful person you had ever seen, as beautiful and mesmerising as your Florence. You couldn't be more proud of her, for growing this little human inside of her. 

“I love her so much already,” you whispered to Florence, trying not to disturbed the baby in her arms.

“She’s as perfect as you are,” a smile plastered on her face once she looked at you. 

“Oh, come on, those are your genes. Just look at her,” you kissed Florence’s forehead. She giggled at your words. 

“You want to hold her?” she was already giving the tiny human to you. 

Once she was in your arms, you felt completed. Not that anything was missing, but it was as if things should have always been this way. With Florence right by your side. The baby stirred under your hands, getting used to your warmth and touch, but it was af she could tell that it was her mama holding her and stop moving around, falling back into her sleep. You poked her hand with your pinky finger, trying your best to not disturb her but you wanted to touch her, as though you were making sure she was real. You gasped once her tiny hand opened and grabbed your pinky finger. 

Florence was looking at the both of you with watery eyes. She couldn’t believe that her daughter was finally there with her, you holding her close to your chest. She didn’t know she could love someone as much as she loved you, and there it was, right in front of her. She couldn't wait for everyone to meet her. She knew she would be loved by everyone, but loved the most by the two of you. 

“What about Daisy?” you whispered to Florence. 

“Are you sure it’s not a marvel character?” she teased you. 

You looked at her, trying to find an answer, the truth was that it was a marvel character’s name, but you had always loved that name regardless of that.

“I, um…” she chuckled at your missing words. 

“It’s perfect. Little Daisy,” your eyes lit up at her words. 

“Little Daisy,” you repeated, it did sound perfect. 

[...]

Bonus scene (moments before driving Florence to the hospital):

911 operator: 911, what’s your emergency?

Y/n: Yeah, my wife is going into labour *trying to not freak out*

911 operator: Is this her first child?

Florence: DON’T YOU DARE.

Y/n: No, this is her wife.

(I thought this would be funny)

Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated! <3

-M

[marveldiaries]

🥀 angst | ☁️ fluff | ✨ faves | 🔥 smut

🪐 already on notes | 🍂 to be read

Loki 2

By andsheloved

All I wanted 🥀☁️ - When loki finds himself finally being accepted by the rest of the team, you begin to wonder what your relationship really meant to him.

a worthy try ☁️🥀✨ - loki reflects on all that you are, and how maybe one day, all that he is may be good enough to have you.

Little spoon 🍂

I really like your hands 🍂

gift giving ☁️✨

please tell me how to fix it. i miss you. ☁

this love, is it really worth it? 🥀☁️

fake dating ☁

can't say i love you ☁️

clingy loki ☁✨

asking for hugs ☁️🥀✨

loki is in love ☁️

i could’ve lost you ☁️🥀✨

it’s you, it was always you 🍂

mr. & mrs. smith ☁️ - after a new member is introduced to the team, loki begins to imagine a life beyond the tower, not unlike many times before, but his daydream receives an interesting addition, you.

By sarahscribbles

For the first time ☁🔥 - You finally sleep with Loki for the first time.

He finds you asleep 🔥

Warming him 🔥

Stay Here One More Time ☁️ - On the anniversary of the Battle of New York, Loki discovers he has someone on his side.

Do I Haunt Your Mind? 🥀☁ - You finally work up the courage to confess your feelings to Loki, but it goes badly wrong. 

Tiny Blessings 🥀☁✨ - After Frigga’s death, you find a way into the dungeons to comfort her broken son.

Back In Your Arms 🍂 - Loki arrives back at the compound, and back in your arms, after the battle with Thanos.

I love you ☁️ - Loki saying ”I love you” for the first time.

Waking up next to Loki 🍂

Call you mine 🔥☁

Even gods get sick ☁✨ - You care for your love when he gets a sudden summer cold.

Holding him 🥀☁✨ - Loki wanting some cuddles from his gf after a rough day.

Moments of magic ☁ - You bring Loki two gifts to mark his birthday. One a magical object and the other your heart.

By liminalpebble

Stray 🍂 one | two | three | four | five | six | seven - It's 1971 and you're a single shop girl living in the tumultuous, often damp, city of Seattle, feeling lost and alone. Meanwhile, Loki (under the guise of D.B. Cooper) is on the run from Thor the moment he jumped out of that plane. After crash landing in a dumpster and disguising himself as a stray cat to lay low, he becomes your beloved feline room mate and an unusual friendship begins to grow.

By swan-of-sunrise

Spellbinding 🍂 - A chance encounter at the New York Public Library marked the beginning of (Y/N) and Loki’s friendship, but they would soon learn that they shared more in common than their love of literature.

By infinitystoner

Always forever ☁️ - When a mission goes wrong, there’s only one person whose comfort you crave.

Box of rain 🍂 one | two - After the universe plummets into chaos, you find yourself working alongside a merry band of misfits who’ve made a home for themselves in Tønsberg, Norway. When a harrowing incident occurs, Loki is forced to confront his feelings.

By unlucky-number-13

Fire eyes 🍂 - Loki’s back in the TVA after the events at the Citadel, and no one remembers who he is. He’s feeling lost, not sure where to go or what to do next, and he’s got a new coworker who’s complicating his life even further. When she starts somehow triggering hallucinations, it’s a race against time to uncover the truth behind them before his own deceptions are uncovered.

Blood & Flowers 🍂 - When the insufferable Prince Loki casts a spell that causes flowers to bloom on your skin whenever he's injured, you can't even begin to fathom how it will turn your world upside down.

By loki-cees-all

The Little Things Give You Away 🍂 - It’s just a compulsion to steal the TemPad, and it’s just a habit to flee. The timelines have split, the TVA is in disarray, the threat of He Who Remains is insurmountable - and Loki is just so done with it all.

Cupcake For a God ☁🥀✨ - Loki’s birthday is approaching, and it forces himself to reconcile who he wants to be versus who he actually is, and to reflect on his almost certainly unrequited feelings for you.

By give-me-a-moose

Indulgence 🥀✨☁️ - Loki sees his hunger as a weakness, something to be starved. Not to be indulged.

No expert ☁️ - Loki ends up in the medbay and you swear you're gonna kill him.

Sketchy ☁️ - You struggle to find inspiration and Loki proves to be a wonderful muse.

Errands 🍂 - Loki must undergo the most harrowing trial on Midgard…Grocery shopping. 

By asgardwinter

Out of the window 🍂🪐 - Loki always blocked everyone out and he was fine living like that. Then you appeared in his way and decided to throw his rules out of the window.

Crumpled words ☁️ - Those words were all he had from you, and he’d keep them safe and locked away in the darkness.

Love again ☁️ - You swore you’d never love again then met him five minutes later. Feelings just don't work that way.

Traditional 🍂 - Loki finds out some midgardian traditions that he had no idea about, and he likes it very much.

Who needs electricity? ☁ - When the power goes out, Loki learns about your fear of the dark and uses a few tricks to make it better.

Stay here with me 🍂 - All Loki ever needed to calm down was you.

Ambient analysis ☁ - You like Loki, Loki doesn’t like you. At least that’s what a little bird told you.

Unkind 🥀☁✨ - Loki was always joking about you being one silly mortal until one day he wasn’t.

Breathless 🍂 - He’d make you breathless just in order to find his air.

A promise sealed with light ☁️ - It was news to him, having someone around that came up with such things as plans for the future.

Wearing Loki's hoodie ☁️

Would you kiss me if I asked you? 🍂 - How could you convince Loki you meant every drunk word you said to him?

I can't have it any other way ☁ - He only wanted to know if you were going to stay.

By lokisgoodgirl

A Prince's Release 🔥✨

By lokidreaming

The night before Valentine’s Day. 🔥✨

[myphotodiaries]

sun dec 4 22 - finals day 7/7 - 🌃

I took my last final today so i’m officially done with fall semester!!! it feels SO GOOD to know it’s over and i can rest for the next month >> i’ll be heading home to washington in a week & im sooo very excited <33

++ arizona’s been looking a lot like home with all the rain recently! mac sure loves it :)

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚ ☽˚｡⋆

🎧 | about you (the 1975)

📚| artcurious (jennifer dasal) + we have always lived in the castle (shirley jackson)

[strawberryspotsstuff]

CHARLIE BEING ROMANTIC AND CUTE

LIKE HE HAS A CRUSH ON Y/N AND TAKES THEM ON A CHEESY ROMANTIC DATE LIKE A PICNIC???

Just him bein shy and taking his crush out in a date <3

-Owl Anon 🦉

(also hi I love your headcanons :])

KHDSKKJSAHKJDSHK YESSS YIPEEEEE

((allsoo tyy!!))

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Charlie x Reader

What a blessed day. The day showed no sign of rain only cool winds and warm afternoons. The sky was a soft orange and pink, clouds scattered around, covering the sun. Laying on a hill a was checkered red picnic blanket under a swaying pine tree, assortment of light treats and fizzy drinks were on the blanket and fairy lights decorated the tree.

"You did all of this?" You whispered softly, in awe.

Charlie's face was a flushed a dark red, his pupil shaped as a heart. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

"Ehehe, um- yup" He answered softly.

"Wow... I love this!" You squealed, running up and flopping down on the picnic blanket.

Charlie quickly followed you and sat down in his own spot, his hands started to sweat, should he move closer?

But it seemed like you thinking the same thing as you scooted closer and snuggled next to him, he was screaming in his head.

"Oh wow, I love these choices of food! What too choosee?" You asked to yourself before picking up a few cheeses and crackers.

Charlie suggested a few good cheeses to go with the drinks. For that afternoon you before indulged in the food he made, cuddling as you watched sunset turn to night.

As soon as the warm afternoon turned to night, Charlie walked you home, giving you a little kiss on the cheek before running away like a flustered school kid.

[alolynn-heart]

☁ ? 👀

send one for my muse’s reaction to your muse @rcguish

☁  =  being  caught  in  the  middle  a  storm  with  them  .

She  -really-  should  have  checked  the  forecast  for  today.  She  forgot  it  wasn't  as  predictable  in  other  regions.  How  many  times  have  something  like  that  slipped  her  mind?  She  was  almost  -always-  out  making  deliveries.  Lynn  didn't  even  think  much  of  the  overcast  that  blanketed  the  sky.

And  yet...

Each  time  one  of  her  feet  made  contact  with  the  wet  pavement,  a  hard  splash  was  made.  Water  droplets  kicking  up.  A  few  times  there  was  the  occasional  skid,  grabbing  onto  anything  nearby.  Street  lamps,  the  back  of  a  bench,  even  the  railing  to  the  docks.

She  was  just  almost  there...she  could  make  it.

Prior,  she  was  making  her  last  delivery  in  Olivine  City.  At  first  she  heard  the  rumble  of  thunder  in  the  distance.  Her  customer  had  been  a  little  slow  retrieving  the  payment.  No  worries,  right?

Still  her  mightyena  was  the  one  who  was  tugging  on  her  sleeve.  Usually  docile,  Lynn  knew  something  was  up.  Tsuki  was  never  really  scared  of  a  little  rain.

That's  when  the  bellowing  horn  of  one  of  the  ships  was  heard.  The  very  one  she  needed  to  catch.  The  gleam  from  the  Olivine  Lighthouse  shining  down  upon  it.  This  was  the  first  warning.

The  next  warning  came  with  both  the  horn  and  the  ringing  of  departure  bells.  And  yet  the  dock  was  crowded.  Full  of  people  move  back.  Pushing  back  into  the  opposite  direction.  The  dark  type  canine  aided  in  however  she  could  to  help  its  trainer  get  through.  By  then  her  breath  was  shallow.  And  after  all  that...she  was  too  late.

The  ship  that  would  ferry  her  back  to  the  Alolan  Islands  had  disembarked.  She  hunched  over  catching  her  composure.  She  cursed  to  herself  watching,  before  opening  up  her  bag.  She  had  some  money  she  made  from  the  days  deliveries..but  was  it  really  enough?

By  then  she  had  noticed  that  it  was  quiet  around  her.  All  except  another  nearby.  The  red  haired  male  did  seem  to  be  lost  in  thought.  Maybe  even  unbothered  by  the  storm.  They  weren't  familiar.  No  one  she  seemed  to  recognize.

Straightening  herself  up  more,  she  slightly  turned  to  them  "Oh?  Did  you  miss  it  as  well?"  she  asked.  An  attempt  to  break  the  ice

[fellstcr]

Q'S ABOUT BYLETH / @mischiefmodig / no longer accepting ! ↳  ♥ - What does ‘love’ mean to them?

||. Byleth... is still trying to figure that out. At the moment, love is a shape without lines to Byleth; a song with no rhyme, a language without words It's not that it's meaningless... it's that the meaning isn't clear to Byleth. And how could it be? She hasn't had real, full, thriving emotions for most of her life; a lot of her time is spent playing emotional catch-up with everyone else in the room, no matter how young they are.

So, if you were to ask Byleth what "love" means, she would decline to answer, or pivot the question to someone else. She's still learning... and she wouldn't want to assign a meaning to a word she can barely describe. Especially if, after all of that... it turns out that she was wrong, and love actually means something else.

All that she does know is this : love comes in many forms. It can be shared between people who are courting, but it can also be shared between other kinds of family members too, like fathers and sons, brothers and sisters. It can be shared between friends, whether they're close, or they view each other as family. It can used for objects, animals and things that hold significance to a person. You can "love" a place, for instance. Just like you can "love" a job. (Granted, Byleth doesn't quite understand what makes the difference between 'loving' something and 'very much liking' something.)

But she's determined to understand, one day.

↳  ★ - Do they prefer daytime or nighttime and why?

||. Byleth is a night owl, through and through. (A majority of her supports take place wandering Garreg Mach at ... odd ... hours of the night.) But this can come into conflict with Byleth also being something of a habitual early riser. She very rarely gets a full night of sleep, often opting for anywhere between three and five hours on average. She enjoys the peace and quiet of the night. It allows her the room and the time to think, process through her life's events and newfound experiences. It also allows her to plan for the immediate future.

↳  ☁ - If they’re caught out in the rain how do they react?

( answered ! )

↳  ♔ - Do they value loyalty?

||. Byleth values loyalty and accountability above ALL else. Being able to trust that you will not get back-stabbed on a job is imperative to her former work as a mercenary - at least in terms of the mercenary members, and the group as a whole not getting betrayed by their employers. Of course, professionally, Byleth does understand that loyalty can only go so far when you can be hired by one person one day, and then hired by their enemy on the next day. That is where the utmost honor of having an accountable track record comes in. If you're honest, then you can be trusted within reason, even if your paths clashed not so long ago.

But when it comes to Byleth's personal loyalty, once it is earned, is difficult to break. If Byleth chooses you, she will move mountains for you. She will tie her path with yours, and very little will sway her on that path if she decides that following her chosen person (or their ideal) is her prerogative. This was true of Jeralt, and this is true of her house leaders. Which is why their responses to her during "A Form of Grief / Father's Diary (Blue Lions)" are so indicative of the person she becomes by the end of the route.

In Azure Moon, Dimitri tells Byleth to "live for what she believes in", or in other words : be true to your heart, because what your heart tells you is important will remain no matter what changes, or who leaves your life. She follows this creed with enough devotion not only to boomerang it back to Dimitri in his time of need, but then assist his will to extend a hand of mercy to their enemy at the end of the route.

In Verdant Wind, Claude... doesn't speak much on her loss with Jeralt, but he does encourage Byleth to seek the truth. In part through letting him look through her father's diary in search of answers about her past. She follows this into getting her answers from Seteth and Lady Rhea, enough so that she's able to put a permanent close on Nemesis' chapter once and for all at the end of that route.

In Crimson Flower/Silver Snow, Edelgard tells her - quite firmly - that she believes there is no sense in grieving. The world will move on with or without Byleth, and "all anyone else can offer are the tears of an outsider looking in." (She also makes it a point to note she will continue to move forward with her own life regardless of whether Byleth shares in that.) Obviously, Byleth can take this one of two ways: choosing to cleave her definition of belonging towards, or away from Edelgard's intended walk of life.

Her loyalty towards a person and their ideals is indomitable. And can quite literally be the difference between success and failure, winning and losing, and even life and death.

[sarahmoonartroom]

WHO AM I THROUGH MOVING PICTURES?

🕯 🧸 🕊🌙 FIRST "Phantom Bodies" assignment 🪐⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡♡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆🪐୧

To start I would like to acknowledge I might have made a wrong (or right 😏) turn when interpreting the prompt. I was thinking of this the as more of a portrait of my truest SELF, my art, or my soul, rather than my (quite phantom) current body. I guess I rarely think about my body as a tool or think about my body much ever in relationship to art.... but now as of this course, my brain is growing watching how differently everyone interprets "self-portrait" through moving pictures.

I am going to re-attempt this project next weekend after my papier Mache costumes are complete... I’ll have more to work with and can further expand next week how professor Hutamo’s lecture and our introduction to media studies has started shaping a new way of thinking about moving pictures. My body can be the prop or the sculpture. And of course, how photography, video making, and sculpture can transform the “white cube” gallery space

But for now, this is what I have been up 48 hours doing and I have some nice take aways.

Patricia Olynyk proposed to us the question… “Who are you? Who you in relationship to moving pictures and media?”

I’ll admit I’ve always been fascinated with media. I’ve been glued to the computer since Fergie released her music video Glamorous in 2006. Literally still in that YouTube rabbit hole 16 years later.

Although I am not inherently pulled to use technology in the making of most my work, I have roots in video editing and online internet antics since the year 2000. After all, I did spend every day after school designing elaborate, outlandish spaces for my Webkinz to thrive and STAYED collaborating with online friends and other 7-year-old moguls on the magical website.

Essentially, I’ve been in a long-term relationship with technology my whole life. I have been sculpting, annotating, and documenting behind a glass screen all my education at least. This reality has completely altered our generations view on privacy. Our world of moving pictures has created a surveillance system for even the most distant of strangers to read our inner most thoughts, view our relationships, and even track our physical locations. Although we are helping build this reality, the new generation of internet babies have had to learn walking the balance beam of the private and public under this surveillance system that Steve Jobs essentially birthed into our society. (Yay! Man fixes some problems with technology, but now there a whole other can of worms opened)

- the multiverse -

I think about all the annotations I’ve scattered on the internet throughout my life. I would love to examine the receipts of my online commenting, emailing, posting, even the writing in my notes app….

                                                          ….

I do love the mystic of flipping through someone's handmade book or journal, it's like a peep into their perspective and process. Their truest thoughts are in their annotations, their doodles and scribbles of lyrics stuck in their head that morning. Opening someone’s personal copy of a book takes you on a trip through their brain and conversations with themselves.

Since forever, I’ve been accumulating my favorite lyrics, quotes, images, receipts, ticket stubs, anything stretch out the moment and remember.

I want to look back at my life and see myself wearing rose colored glasses, platform slippers, paint-stained jeans, and a raspberry beret. Through the lens of fluorescent colors, loud laughs, and impromptu dancing. I am an optimist at heart, a lover of Sunday mornings, sweet tea, sunshine, AND THE RAIN!

 Our language and our inner most thoughts evolving as we grow older are the “moving pictures” I want to capture in this assignment.

You ask who I am? I am an open book.

Specifically, these up-cycled, overstuffed books from my personal archives.

"annotations" (2016-present)

www.moonart.co

.....My first (official) video piece.....

(Extra Nonsense because I'm on a roll)

PROS in doing the assignment wrong....

I have a new piece regardless of if anyone likes it or not (I do a lot though!!!)

I took some time to pay attention and document these journals that have traveled with me since high school... pretty cool moment to see how far I've come as a artist yes, but seeing how I've been able to channel some serious depressive episodes into BURTS OF RAINBOW ND GLITTER. I like to fill the void with glitter.

Scanners are dope and way more animated than just taking a photo with a camera.

I can confidently use adobe premiere now.

I have like 300 documented sketchbook pages, a speedy video previewing them, and a PREFORMANCE piece because I was literally so delusional after the critique, I spent 45 minutes watching my video projected super large and just dancing to the music (because this is the favorite song of all time of course)

Clarified and came to an answer to the question... Who am I?

      Notes moving forward:

Record my own music and sounds.

Be more theatric, performative, and daring.

this was great for the blog and documentation but let’s finish these papier Mache costumes/props and see what we can cook up for the next project.

[therainroguefanfiction]

❉ 139 Dreams (Floyd Leech) Survive

📑 Table of Contents

Genre: Fluff, Comfort

Word Count: 2,770

Pairing: Female Reader x Floyd

World: Twisted Wonderland

Notes: I have been out of commission for like three days because my cramps were so goddamn bad, I've just been sleeping or writing while lying in bed ;_;) This is totally self-indulgent because I would give anything to be squeezed by Floyd while on my period.

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ: ⋆.:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

You woke up early that morning, jolted awake by an agonizing pain in your lower stomach. It felt like someone had reached inside and were twisting your insides into pretzels. Your period wasn't even due to start for another three days and yet the pain always came early, like a warning bell that refused to be shut off. You considered just staying in bed and skipping class but you knew Riddle would find out through Ace and scold you. You weren't even in Heartslabyul and yet you still always got scolded by the short male. It was a real pain sometimes. Though, you'd be lying if you said it wasn't sweet that he seemed to genuinely care about you.

A groan passed your lips as you pulled yourself out of bed, wincing in pain. You didn't have the energy to pick your feet up, dragging them across the floor to the bathroom so you could look for some painkillers. You sighed in relief seeing the white bottle, but your hopes were crushed when you picked it up, noting how light it was. Shaking it confirmed your fears - it was empty. You had forgotten to buy more after your last period. Not only that, but you had spent the last of your thaumarks buying laundry detergent for Ruggie and tuna for Grim.

All you wanted to do was curl in on yourself right there on the bathroom floor and not move for the next week and, honestly, you were about to do just that when you remembered that today was test day. If you missed them, you wouldn't be allowed to make them up. As a student without magic, you already struggled to keep your grades above a passing level and if you tanked all of your tests for not showing up, it'd be nearly impossible to recover from.

"Damn it," you muttered, dragging yourself to the closet so you could get your uniform. 'I don't know if I can survive the day... but I have to at least try. Damn you mother nature for cursing me with painful periods!'

When you finally managed to get changed, you made sure you had some pads in the pocket of your pants before you made your way down the stairs, each step taking way more energy than it should. You had just woken up but you already felt completely drained.

"Woah, you look like shit!" Ace commented as soon as he saw you, a startled look on his face. "You get cursed or something?"

"That's rude," Deuce scowled at him before frowning at you. "You do look terrible, though. Are you okay?"

"Peachy," you grunted, walking past them toward the door.

Both males looked at Grim who was happily munching on tuna. When he finally noticed their looks, he blinked at them. "What?"

"What did you do to Y/N?" Deuce demanded, slapping his fist into his palm.

"Hah? I didn't do nothin' to her!"

"She was fine when we left last night," Ace commented suspiciously.

The three of them started to argue, the sound grating on your nerves. Between the pain, the weakness, the worry over the tests, and now their yelling, you were already at your breaking point.

"Shut the hell up!" you snapped, glaring at them. They looked at you in surprise, looking like small children. "God, all the three of you do is argue and nitpick! Just grow up for five minutes!" You shoved your feet into your sneakers before throwing the door open and heading outside, not waiting for them to recover.

The morning was foggy, dark clouds loitering in the sky as thunder rumbled somewhere off in the distance. Normally, you would have been on cloud nine knowing that it was going to rain and seeing how dark the day was, but no matter how hard you tried to focus on that, your pain was greater and it would remind you of that every time you tried to think of something else. You held your hand over your lower stomach and you leaned forward as you walked to try and alleviate some of the pain, your free hand on the wall to keep you steady. The other students looked at you weird, whispering as they easily passed by your slow pace. One of the biggest downsides to being in an all-boys school was that they just didn't understand the pain you went through each month. Even if you tried to explain, it was one of those things that you just couldn't really grasp unless you've experienced it for yourself. Most of them didn't want to hear about it, anyway, which was a good way to get out of awkward conversations, at least.

You finally made it to the classroom, taking a moment to compose yourself before heading inside. Sitting down helped a little bit but not much, so you brought your knees up toward your chest, resting your feet on the side of the desk for leverage. It was the most relief you had felt so far and you sighed in relief.

"Y/N-san, this is not a barn," Trein scolded when he entered the classroom. "Put your feet down and sit properly!"

You were about to argue, in the perfect mood for doing just that, but you knew it would be pointless. Even if he did understand, you doubted he would care or give you special treatment because of it, so you just gritted your teeth and did as he asked, closing your eyes as the pain got worse.

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ: ⋆.:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

You had somehow managed to make it to lunchtime, but you knew you had probably flunked half of your exams. You just couldn't focus and when you weren't breaking your pencil, you were resting your head on the cool desk. Most of the questions had been left unanswered and the ones you had answered were most likely wrong. Not that you really cared right now.

Ace paused when he realized you weren't following the group toward the cafeteria. "Y/N, you comin'?"

You forced a smile, feeling guilty about your actions earlier but you weren't ready to apologize just yet. Your period always made you easily annoyed and quite cranky, so you weren't entirely confident in your ability to stop from snapping at them again. It would be easier to apologize all at once, in that case. "I'm gonna study for a bit."

With a shrug, he turned back around and walked away.

It was a lie, honestly. You couldn't care less about studying, but you felt sick to your stomach and the thought of food made your nose wrinkle up. Plus, this was the perfect time to find a quiet place and curl up into a ball, hoping the ground would swallow you whole. This came in the form of a large tree behind the school, the wood dark and old. You just made it beneath the branches before the sky opened up, showering down rain onto the earth.

'Perfect,' you thought with a smile, sliding down the tree and bringing your knees as close to your chest as possible. 'It's quiet, I can sit however I like, and it's raining. I should be able to relax for a bit here.' You took a few deep breaths, breathing in the scent of the rain as you focused on the soft pitter-patter. For the first time all day, you actually started to relax and your pain lessened. You had found your tranquility.

Maybe a bit too much tranquility.

Your eyes grew heavy and though you tried to fight it, your body was just too exhausted to win. 'I'm just resting my eyes... that's all...' Your breathing evened out as you fell asleep.

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ: ⋆.:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

You jolted awake, blinking tiredly as you slowly became aware of your surroundings. You were still under the tree, the rain a soft mist around you. Night had fallen which meant that you slept through your exams. 'Well, what's done is done... but what woke me up?'

You faintly remembered the sound of a frantic cry, but you assumed you had just been dreaming. Maybe it was a nightmare in which your period became a living person whose sole reason for existing was to make you miserable. You shook your head at the thought, starting to pull yourself up but you lost your balance, falling back to the ground. Your back was killing you and your cramps had returned with a fiery vengeance. What you wouldn't give for a heating pad and some painkillers right now. Maybe Sam would let you take out a tab? Or maybe you could charge it to Leona's account... but that would mean taking the trip out to his shop and it's already nighttime.

'Well, I've made it this far, why give up now?' So you rolled onto your side, your back facing the tree. The temperature was dropping, the air damp from the rain, but you just wrapped your arms around yourself and closed your eyes. There was a rock or a twig digging into your shoulder but you didn't have the energy to lift up and move it. It was nothing compared to your cramps anyway.

You had just about dozed off when you heard it - a very distressed and familiar voice crying out a familiar nickname.

"Namazu-chan! Where are you?!"

Was that... Floyd? It had to be. He was the only one that called you catfish, after all. The sound of his voice gave you strength and you slowly pushed yourself up, wincing in the process. Would he think to look back here for you? No one else had come across you in the hours you had spent there, but you couldn't bring yourself to yell for him. So, you did the next best thing. You tried to send him a psychic message, hoping the universe would help you out. 'Floyd, I'm behind the school, hidden behind the giant oak. Please come find me and take me to a soft bed. P.S. bring painkillers.'

The bushes to your left rustled before a giant bullfrog came hopping out, croaking loudly as he did so. He stopped halfway, turned his head toward you and blinked. You stared back, lifting your hand and giving him a little wave. He croaked again before turning away and continuing to hop along, enjoying the rain.

Loud footsteps reached your ears and you glanced over just in time to see Floyd's lanky form turn the corner, his wide eyes falling to you. He was breathing heavily, soaked through to the bone because of how long he had actually been searching for you. For a moment, he just stared at you as if worried that you were going to disappear from in front of him. You offered him the same little wave you had given the frog and he snapped out of it.

"Namazu-chan!!" He darted toward you at full sprint and it honestly would have been terrifying if not for the glassy look in his eyes as he held back his tears. He fell to his knees in front of you, throwing his arms around you and bringing you into a tight, almost painful hug. "I thought I lost you! I thought... I thought you went back to your world!"

You frowned at how his voice broke and you rubbed his back to try and calm him down. If someone were to ask you what you and Floyd were, you wouldn't be able to answer that. He had never told you he liked you, but it was obvious that you were special to him like no other. Without any words of affection exchanged, you had just kind of become Floyd's and vice versa. You knew he would kill for you, die for you and he knew you'd do the same for him. Ace had been concerned over how quickly the two of you had gotten close and you can't recall when it actually happened. From the moment you met, it just felt right to be with him, as if you had known each other your whole lives. You felt comfortable around him, never nervous or anxious. From the moment you met, you had given this man your complete, unwavering trust.

"There, there," you told him softly. "I wouldn't leave without saying goodbye fir -"

Before you could even finish your sentence, he had pulled away, holding you by your shoulders with his eyes narrowed. "You're not allowed to leave!" Though said like an order, you could hear the pleading undertones.

"I was joking. I'm not going anywhere."

"That's not funny, Namazu-chan," he pouted before letting his eyes roam over your body, checking for any injuries or wounds. "I've been searching for you for ages!"

"Sorry," you offered him a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of your neck. "I fell asleep."

"You should have told me you were sleepy, you could have used me as a pillow." He embraced you again, nuzzling his face into your neck and inhaling that natural scent of yours that always made him smile.

You shifted to get more comfortable only to wince, your whole body sore from both your period and the place you had chosen to sleep for so many hours. "Floyd?"

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you for a favor? Or five?"

He pulled back enough so he could meet your eyes, head tilted to the side. "What is it?"

You rubbed the back of your neck, a frown on your lips. "I'm starting my period soon so I'm in a lot of pain which sleeping against a tree is apparently not a good way to combat this. I ran out of painkillers and I'm out of thaumarks. Would you be willing to help me out?"

Floyd suddenly slid his arms beneath your body, standing up with ease as he held you close to his chest. There was a deep frown on his face, his brow furrowed. "You should have told me this morning!"

"Aren't I too heavy?"

"Of course not!" If he wasn't holding you, he would have puffed out his chest proudly.

You chuckled. "Thank you, Floyd."

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ: ⋆.:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

Floyd brought you to his bedroom, setting you down gently on the bed before pressing a kiss to your lips. "I'll be right back, Namazu-chan!"

You slid under his covers, releasing a sigh of relief at how soft and comfortable his bed was. His scent lingered on the sheets, a mixture of seawater and mint that delighted your senses and made you feel a sense of calm that made your worries melt away. Since you didn't want to fall asleep before he got back, you busied yourself with the manga sitting on his bedside table. It was about basketball, one you had seen him read more than once, but you had never actually checked it out yourself. You made it halfway through before he returned to the room, his arms so full that he had to close the door with his foot.

He set down a white plastic bag with painkillers, chocolate, and your favorite drink. He was also carrying the softest cat plush you had ever felt in your life and you didn't hesitate to cuddle it to your chest before reaching for the painkillers but he snatched it away before you could, earning a confused look. He popped the top, dropping a few pills onto his palm before he tossed them into his mouth and bringing the soda to his lips.

"Those are supposed to be for me," you pouted, but it disappeared as he crawled on top of you, his mouth finding yours. He tilted his head to the side, parting his lips so you could take the pills and the soda but he didn't end the kiss when you did, his lips moving slowly against your own. His body was warm on top of yours, his weight against your stomach helping with the pain of your cramps.

Floyd's sharp teeth nipped at your bottom lip as he pulled away. "You're not allowed to leave this bed until your pain goes away. Doctor's orders!"

You chuckled, resting your hand on the side of his neck. "Only if you promise to stay with me."

"Silly, Namazu-chan~" He giggled, nuzzling into your neck as his long limbs wrapped around your body. "You couldn't get rid of me even if you tried."

"Hm, I guess it's a good thing I don't want to, then."

You could feel his smile against your skin, bringing out your own smile, your eyes sliding closed. If this was the treatment you got, maybe you could survive your period, after all.

☾ ⋆･ﾟ:⋆･ﾟ: ⋆.:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

[forbidding-souda]

Mikan and Toko with an S/o that’s deathly terrified of thunder and lightning?

Mikan Tsumiki and Fukawa Toko with a S/O who's deathly afraid of thunderstorms

i'm gonna start driving around to fucking record stores to try to find where they put the concert posters because i see all my area's mutuals going to house shows like girl where they at tho LITERALLY 20 MINUTES AWAY FROM ME HOW ARE YA'LL FINDING OUT ABOUT THIS 'get in the scene' HOE. HOW?????

I WAS MORE APART OF THE OC SCENE THAN THE BAY SCENE LMAOOO ????

currently listening: at dawn they sleep by slayer

-Mod Souda

Mikan Tsumiki

☼ She doesn't enjoy loud noises so when you said you were afraid of thunder and lightning - she assumed that you were like her.

☼ That made your panic attack even more unexpected to her.

☼ The rain tapped against all the windows in the house, surrounding you, and made you feel overwhelmed. She knows what to do in situations like that, but she isn't sure if she should. Does a girlfriend comfort you like a lover or a patient? It began to make her panicked as well.

☼ She ended up holding your face in her head while she put headphones on you. She remembers your favorite playlist so she tries to navigate your phone while you cry into her shoulder.

☼ I wish I could control the weather, she thinks. She is very very used to dealing with panicking people as she loves to feel needed by them. It's just... she doesn't like seeing you in this situation.

☼ She'll hold you, rock you in her arms while you listen to music to try and distract yourself. She just hopes you'll be able to fall asleep there in her arms. If you don't - that's fine, she'll hold you all night.

Toko Fukawa

☁ She usually works, writing on her computer, through them. That plan had not gone the way she wanted.

☁ You were panicking like crazy, covering your ears and pouring your tears everywhere. It was a mess to her and she felt so overpowered. What should she do? Tell you stories to distract you - would that even work?

☁ She gave you a blanket to wrap yourself in. That's what she thought of first. There was a lot of her lingering around you awkwardly.

☁ And then she crouched beside you and patted your back. "I-I love you, nothing bad is going to happen." She gives words of comfort.

☁ If this was a novel - what would she do? She's going to have to be the handsome fisherman that saves the day.

☁ With that, she leaves a soup to warm in the microwave before brushing your hair out of your face. She just wants to make you comfortable. She knows that she can't stop your panicking nor can she stop the weather. She it's all about making you feel safe, even if it's just momentarily.

☁ She makes you food, leaves water bottles around, and even brings her computer in and sits next to you so she can keep an eye on you.