#sniffles………. i love my goobers so much :’)

[gothsuguru]

🥹🥹🥹 i really love sukuna & reader’s friendship so much :’) they really do mean the world to me <3

[gothsuguru]

WAHHHHHHH LILY I’M GONNA SOB I LOVE YOU SM

OKAY FIRST OF ALL THIS IS LITERALLY ONE OF THE SWEETEST THINGS ANYONE HAS EVER DONE!!!!! THE LOVE YOU HAVE FOR SUKUNA & YOUR MOOTS… SNIFFLES <333 i hope you know we love and appreciate you so much i’m Literally smooching you as we speak :3

ALSO THE IO MENTION RAHHHHHHHHH OFC SHE WOULD BE THE FLOWERSHOP OWNER AND THAT SATORU WOULD BE HER HUBBY 🤭 AND THEN KENJAKU FOR ARI IS LEGITIMATELY ICONIC I KNOW THEY LOVE THEIR SILLY BRAIN TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH IT WAS SO CUTE <333 AND THEN . GULPS

ME AND SUGURU??????????????? WHEN I TELL YOU I FUCKING SCREAMEDDDDDDDDDD I LITERALLY BAGGED A BAD BITCH THANK YOU LORD LILY 🙏🏼🤭 AND ME AND HIM ARE GETTING MARRIED??? IKTR! BUT SERIOUSLY THIS IS A SUCH A SWEET LOVE LETTER TO NOT ONLY ALL YOUR MOOTS BUT SUKIE AS WELL :’) sniffles…….. let me get into it in the tags :3

in your peach blush dreams

synopsis : in which sukuna unexpectedly stumbles upon something – or rather, someone – he almost never believed could exist. w.c: 2.7k.

pairing : soulmate!florist!sukuna x f!reader

warnings : FLUFF! non curse au. adorably grumpy sukuna who only pretends he doesn’t believe in love or soulmates.

a/n : based on this request. hope you enjoy nonie!! @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat @gothsuguru @bungalowbear @hiraethwrote , i hope you love your cameos <3

divider / ao3

ryomen sukuna was a skeptic.

point. cut. blank.

anybody who knew him knew it well.

he didn’t believe in ghosts, poltergeists, or any of the things that cry and go bump in the night. there was always a logical explanation for everything and anything that happened outside the realm of normalcy. the world was ruled by physics and chemistry and numbers, and even though he was a florist, sukuna understood and wholeheartedly accepted the beauty of science.

however, there was one teeny, tiny thing that completely – and rather rudely – disregarded all of his beliefs.

and it was only a little dream.

one that he had been having since he was old enough to remember things.

sukuna couldn’t remember if there were before this particular one started, or even if any occurred after it. but he always remembered how he knew it was coming – the way his stomach would churn and lurch, like he was being catapulted from a cannon, free-falling through a black expanse of space and time and stars.

and then, sukuna would land face-first into a field of marshmallow-soft petals, bathed in the light of a pink sunrise.

at first, he didn’t know what sort of flowers had cushioned his fall. it took him quite a number years to even attempt sketching them, using a cheap set of coloring pencils he’d bought with his pocket money. and even, not a single person he showed his scratchings to had any clue at all.

it frustrated him to no end.

sukuna would always end up crumpling his drawings in his little fists and hurling them straight into the bin.

and try again.

and again.

it wasn’t until he was sixteen that he finally found the answer he had been looking for.

sukuna had just gotten a job working part-time at a flower shop after school. at first, the thought of being there was beyond humiliating. his twin brother had relentlessly teased him about it when he found out, which quickly resulted in a flurry of knuckles and fists.

he arrived to his first shift with a sour look and a black eye.

io, the shop owner at the time, gave him a humorous look with soft, chocolate eyes and taught him how to speak the language that only flowers knew. how to listen to the soft poetry held within the curl of their leaves and petals, telling you everything they needed to bloom.

in time, sukuna learned to enjoy it.

but he would never admit it to anyone.

one day, the shop received a rather large delivery of frighteningly familiar baby pink flowers. sukuna froze, his hands slippery and wet from the water droplets falling from the stems.

“what are those?” he’d gritted out, disbelief coated on his cracked lips.

io took one glance at the flowers in his grip, and answered, “oh, they’re zinnia flowers.”

zinnia flowers.

he whispered under his breath, testing how the letters rolled over and under his tongue.

after all this time, the answer to the mystery flower was finally in his palm, and sukuna couldn’t decide whether or not he felt relieved or disturbed about it.

all he could muster in response was, “right.”

io stared at him, and a young sukuna felt himself shrink a little under her gaze, his cheeks blossoming a brilliant red shade like the david austin roses beside him. he pretended to ignore her, distracting himself by placing bunches of flowers into water buckets and slowly, meticulously, arranging every single stem beautifully in the display window.

sukuna hated every second of it.

he felt like every single pink petal on those flowers were mocking him, laughing at him for being so wound up over them.

it was so unbelievably pathetic.

he’d never felt more like a loser in his whole life.

because despite all his beliefs about the supernatural and a higher power, he couldn’t hate those flowers even if he tried to, not really.

because they were hers.

the other person already sitting there in his dreams in an endless field of zinnia blooms.

she wouldn’t notice him straight away, even though sukuna crash-landed in a heap just beside her leg. she was too busy staring up at the clouds painted in strokes and swirls of blushing pink, with the sun bleeding in tones of vibrant peach. all he could notice was how her lips were parted in wonder as she took everything in around her with a wondrous energy.

it was only when he pushed himself up to sit beside her that she finally noticed him.

and laughed.

and it was the most beautiful thing sukuna had ever heard in his life.

it was joyously infectious, and he couldn’t help his own laughter from bubbling up from deep within his chest like a volcano. they laughed together for what seemed like hours, the limits of time stretching on forever in the land of dreams, and sukuna felt the angry fire in his soul simmer just a little.

and he would become sad.

because he knew this was when the dream would always end.

he’d open his bloodstained eyes to the dreadfully familiar, dull white ceiling that belonged to his bedroom, and sukuna would know he was back at square one all over again.

feeling alone.

so unbearably alone.

because the dream would still linger in those precious few minutes after he woke up, a ghost hovering over a gray sea. sukuna could feel the other half of his soul slipping away to wherever she belonged to in this vast world, and he would selfishly claw for her, begging and screaming in his mind.

don’t go! don’t go! don’t go!

sukuna wasn’t stupid; he knew she couldn’t stay, but that didn’t stop a bitter taste from spreading over his tongue like a drop of lemon juice.

it twisted him inside, and he hated the universe for making him yearn so deeply for someone he had never even met.

and might never.

it didn’t take long for io to catch on. she was always acutely aware of people, and to be known by her was to always be seen and understood.

“they scare you, don’t they?” io murmured to him gently, too gently for sukuna’s liking. “the zinnias.”

he snorted dismissively, cutting perfect forty-five degree angles into the stems of snow peonies. “i am not afraid of a fucking flower, io.”

she arched a brow, unimpressed. “no?”

“no.”

“are you sure?”

sukuna huffed and rolled his eyes, adding tufts of baby’s breath to the bouquet he was assembling. io leaned over the birch countertop, her wrists adorned with various pink ribbons and a playful twinkle in her eyes.

“i know what it is,” she said in a sing-song voice, drumming her nails against the wood.

he ignored her again, a blooming pink starting to grace the tips of his ears, and busied himself wrapping a brown piece of paper around his finished piece.

“what?”

she didn’t answer, cryptically singing about knowing things and of a man she would know one day come to know, with hair as white as the peonies in sukuna’s bouquet and eyes brighter than bluebells. it was only five years to the day, when io married that very man she had been singing about, that he realized she had known all along what had been on his mind.

and now, at the tender age of twenty-one, ryomen sukuna wondered when it would be his turn to love.

and be loved in return.

❀᭢᜴꤬

when she was a child, she used to love drawing.

and the thing she loved to draw most was him.

the boy she saw in her dreams. they weren’t very good drawings – just two stick figures holding each other’s circles for hands, one with bright fuchsia hair because that was the closest color she had in her pencil kit. they would be standing in a field of flowers too, though the blooms were just colorful blobs scattered around their stick feet.

“not it!” she’d exclaim, pouting pitifully. “not what he looks like!”

her two best friends, kairo and ari, shuffled through their pencil cases, offering her shade after shade of pink pencils, but she shook her head at them each time. after a while, she would start to wail, despair clutching her little heart in its claws. her friends would put their arms around her, offering her all the trinkets and sweets they had in their pockets, just to see her smile again.

but they couldn’t understand how she really felt, how lonely she was sometimes, because they had already completed their souls.

ari had their kenjaku – their kenny.

and kairo had her suguru.

they had found their souls at such a young age and would never know just how much of the rest of the world felt for most, if not all, of their lives. they always had someone to watch over them. even now, the two twin boys were staring at them, gauging whether they would also burst into tears alongside her, ready to step in and make them smile again.

that was all she wanted, really.

for the pink-haired boy in her dreams to make her smile when she needed it.

as she grew that little bit older, her dream became more vivid. she could remember more details – how the sky was aflame in peach and coral, the sweet smell of the flowers beneath her, and how her boy would land next to her. she could even feel how much it was him that needed to smile.

so she laughed.

and laughed and laughed until he did too.

she wished she could stay there in that dream with him and make him laugh forever.

but she couldn’t do that.

in his sadness, there was strength too – something unyielding, strong enough to bring mountains to their knees. it told her to stay strong, to be like him, to keep her chin up and tell the world that she would live.

so she did.

she went on with her life, making sure to laugh often and well.

she grew up witnessing and being surrounded by love. high school and university presented their own challenges, filled with late-night cramming sessions and caffeine-induced hazes. she watched more and more of the friends find their souls, pairing off in effortless harmony while she lingered on in the stardust of their love.

but she still continued to live.

still kept an eye out for a particular head of pink hair wherever she went.

and now that she was done school, entering the big, bad world of work, her heart longed all the more for the boy from her dreams – who no longer looked like a boy at all.

he was a beautiful man now.

with dark tattoos etched into skin, mysterious lines and circles that perhaps told the story of his life. she wanted to know all about them, if they even meant anything to him at all, and if they were a angry shield to protect himself from people getting too close.

she hoped it wasn’t.

she didn’t want to be one of those left locked out.

“you’ll find him,” jess said encouragingly to her one day, as she was lost in a daydream of pink flower fields.

jess always knew when she was there.

she hummed softly, chewing on the plain cheese sandwhich she’d brought for her lunch break.

“so,” jess began, in an effort to distract her. “any nice plans for your time off?”

“uh, yeah actually. my best friend is getting married, so i’ll be helping her out this week to get everything ready.”

“oh, that sounds really nice!”

then, nanami kento walked into the staff room, his tired eyes brightening at the sight of jess sitting there, happily munching on the lunch he had no doubt prepared for her that morning. her friend sighed wistfully, a fond smile on her face as the blonde man took a seat beside her.

suddenly, there were two and a half souls in the room.

and she couldn’t help but smile, hoping that her time was coming.

it had to be.

❀᭢᜴꤬

“hea, do we have any lilies in the back? i need them.”

sukuna took another quick glance at the behemoth of a man in front of him, who shifted from one foot to the other, his green eyes darting all around the shop.

“urgently.”

“just a sec!”

the shop was silent for a moment, with only the sound of the fan blowing and the soft snip, snip, snip of sukuna trimming zinnia stems. he looked up again at customer, raising an eyebrow at how nervous the poor man looked while waiting.

“we have these white roses here,” sukuna suggested, pointing with his scissors at a small bunch. “in case we don’t have any white lilies.”

the man shook his head. “no, no. they have to be lilies. her name is lily.”

sukuna might have once laughed, but it was the way the man said her name with a hushed sort of reverence – and the tip of a velvet box peeping out from his trousers – that he understood who she really was to him.

so sukuna didn’t laugh.

“it’s really important,” he added, dark locks sticking to his forehead, as if that alone would convince the grumpy florist.

sukuna sighed, setting down his scissors and wiping his hands on his shirt. “i’ll see what i can do for you.”

so he went to the back himself, assembling a bouquet of white lilies, adding white pampas grass for flair and eucalyptus for softness. sukuna spent quite a bit of time on it – more than he probably should have – fluffing and adjusting every petal and leaf until it was absolutely perfect.

it was worth the effort.

the man’s palpable relief was infectious, making the corner of sukuna’s lips twitch upwards.

“keep your money,” he grunted, his nose slightly turned up. “just come back here to get what you need for the wedding.”

the bell at the front door tinkled in farewell as the man left, and sukuna picked up where he left off. there was a bridal party order for tomorrow, and of course, he was in charge of creating the bride’s bouquet.

sukuna always was.

“hea!” he called out. “if you need a hand with the bridesmaids’ bouquets let me know. i’m almost done here.”

the doorbell tinkled.

but he wasn’t looking up.

“i’m good!” hea answered back, her voice faint.

sukuna clicked his tongue disapprovingly, not liking the shade of ribbon he was holding against the peach-colored zinnia in the bouquet. he dipped down behind the counter, arms stretched above him and fingers drumming on the wood as he scanned through the mess of ribbons and other decorations tucked away in small cubicles.

hmph! nothing.

sukuna pushed himself back up.

and there she was.

staring at all the shades of pretty pink zinnias that sukuna had painstakingly displayed the day before.

his heart actually stuttered.

and before he knew it, he had somehow slipped and landed face down on the ground.

“fuck!”

“oh!”

sukuna pushed himself back up, stumbling like a newborn foal, his eyes completely and utterly fixed on her while a poor zinnia lay crushed beneath his foot.

but that didn’t matter in the slightest.

because holy good god, she was looking at him too.

with her pretty lips parted in shock, and her pretty eyes wide and glossy, and her pretty hair looking exactly like it did in his – no, their – dream.

she’s here. she’s here. she’s here.

“i’m here for the bridal flowers for kairo!” she blurted out suddenly.

sukuna inhaled sharply.

what a pretty voice.

“t-that’s– ahem – not due until tomorrow,” he whispered, almost inaudibly.

her eyes widened a fraction more, if that was even possible. then, her features completely relaxed as she tipped her head back and laughed.

and laughed.

sukuna felt like he was back in his dream again.

only it was real this time – more real than anything.

he chuckled lowly, his laughter rising like helium, melding with hers in a gloriously wonderful crescendo.

and all sukuna could think of was.

finally.

i love you, i love you, i love you.

❀᭢᜴꤬

©storiesoflilies 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites! i only post on ao3 and tumblr.

[sugarpasteltmnt]

OH MY GOSH ITS OVER!!

I just wanted to say, first of all holy COW this definitely cements TNV as my favorite fanfic of all time!! The ending was absolutely phenomenal, and perfect for the story!!

I'm gonna miss the silly goober, but I'm glad he can finally recover and be happy <3

ALSO THE FUTURE LEO APPEARANCE?? WASN'T EXPECTING THAT. CRIES. /POS

You did an excellent job writing this fanfic!! Genuinely one of the best I have ever read. Thank you for sharing it!! If you ever publish any other ideas I'll definitely be reading them. Amazing job, and I hope you have a wonderful day!! :D

AJHASDKJSD OF ALL TIME???? sniffles and sobs thank u so much ;w; i love writing and hope to write most stuff in the future but omg thank u so much for all the love

[robot-rarepairs-dotcom]

Making Megatron a cringey wife guy is SO GOOD!!! It's so funny 😂 he deserves to be a little goober sometimes

I don’t want stoic Megatron I don’t want a flirty Megatron I want a dork who sobs and sniffles and begs for a date and somehow manages to bag actual hotties with his skrunkly ass

And tbh it all started by me projecting my love for Jetfire into megatron and I’ve loved it ever since

Also @/driftsart has a pathetic megatron and I love that so much so🩷

[just-absolutely-super]

Toddler crack

Mega: hey Patch can you do me a favor?

Patch: eh, maybe? My friend is coming over

Mega: can you watch your cousin? I really need to send off some emails

Patch: do I have to?

Mega: huh? You usually jumps at the chance to watch Remix

Patch: I have never jumped at the chance of watching him. I love him, but he cries so much and he won't listen when I say no

Mega: it's just his age Patch. He doesn't understand everything yet, he will learn over time. But I really need to get to those emails now

Later that day

Mega: I don't get why Patch won't watch Remix as much anymore. My son adores him

Lan: it's the crying

Mega: Patch mentioned that

Lan: I don't think you understand

Mega: oh?

Lan: this is kid logic okay.

Mega: just tell me!

Lan: when someone cries, esepecially between two kids, the other kid almost automatically think they're in trouble

Mega: so when Remix cry when he's with Patch, Patch thinks he'll get in trouble?

Lan: yup!

Mega: that's ridiculous! Patch won't be in trouble cause Remix cries

Lan: Patch is in 2nd grade, cut him some slack will you?

Patch is entertaining Remix by playing tic tac toe

Remix: Patch is quiet...

Patch: Hmm

Remix: Oh! I win! Yay!

Patch: Yeah... Woohoo...

Remix: ...

Patch: ...?

Remix: *sniffles*

Patch: Huh? Are you crying? Why? You're winning aren't you?

Remix, crying: Pa-Patch doesn't like meeee!

Patch: HUH?! Where did you get that idea from? Of course I like you!

Remix: N-No you don't! Or you wouldn't be grumpy all the time!

Patch: Ah geez... It's not like that Remix, honest!

Remix: Waaah! I like Patch a lot! Why doesn't Patch like meeee?

Patch: Remix, stop crying, now!

Remix: *hiccup* ...

Patch: I do like you! I like you a lot. You're gonna be my NetNavi soon. But it's just...you're such a crybaby!

Remix: E-Eh? C-Crybaby?

Patch: Yes! You cry over the littlest things, and yeah, our parents say it's normal for you, but it can be so annoying. You're gonna be my Navi, but you gotta be big, strong, and brave too! Got it?

Remix: Big... Strong... Brave...

Patch: Yeah! We're gonna be the best NetBattling duo on the planet! Better than our dads!

Remix: Better than Papa?

Patch: Yeah! But to do that, I'm gonna need you to toughen up! So if you're gonna hang out with me, I'm gonna need you to be a big boy. Think you can do that, Remix?

Remix: Uh huh! I can be a big boy! I'm b-big, strong, and brave!

Patch: Good! That's what I like to hear!

Remix: So... Patch likes Remix?

Patch: Yeah, you goober, of course I do! Don't ever doubt that again!

Remix: Hehehe

Patch: So now that we settled that, Cal is gonna be here in a few minutes...do you want to meet him?

Remix: Gasp! I meet Patch's friend!

Patch: Yeah, you can meet him. He's been wanting to meet you too. But remember, no crying! Show me you can be brave!

Remix: Kay! I can be brave!

15 minutes later

Mega: Sorry, Patch, those emails lasted longer than I thought they would. I can take Remix now, so you can--

Patch: It's fine, Uncle Hub. He can stay with us. We're having fun, right?

Remix: Uh huh! Want to stay!

Mega: O-Oh, okay! Well, if you need me, I'm not too far away, okay buddy?

Remix: Kay!

Lan: Yo, Megaman, where's our buddy at?

Mega: He's...hanging out with Patch and Cal

Lan: That's great! See? And you were worried!

Mega: Yeah...I was actually

Lan: Don't worry, Patch will take care of him

Mega: I know he will, he takes after his dad after all...

[autisticlancemcclain]

Lance spins the pen in his fingers. He chews his lips. He spins around in his chair. He looks at his bed — their bed — with the fluffy duvet and soft pillows and his stuffed shark. It looks so inviting. It would be so nice, really. Just a nap. A quick one. He’ll feel better when he wakes up; less restless.

“It’s gonna be hard, to stay awake when you’re struggling,” Eleana said, “you’re so used to protecting yourself by retreating. It’s hurting you, though, and you know that. You’re going to have to fight your brain a little, sweetheart.”

“I don’t want to fight my brain. I think I’ve fought enough for one lifetime. I just —“ Lance’s face crumpled, a little. “I want to take a break.”

Eleana softened. “I know, Lance. I know. It’s hard. But it’s my job to tell you hard things, love, and it’s your job to stay alive.”

So the bed is not an option. Which means…

Lance takes a deep breath. He steels himself. He walks to the door.

What if Keith doesn’t want to hear it? What if he’s busy? What if he’s tired of carrying Lance’s shit?

He freezes as his hand touches the doorknob. His hands shake. Just like that, he’s psyched himself out. He drops to the floor, criss-cross-applesauce, clutching his hair. His breath shortens, shallow and quick. He tries desperately to calm it.

Fine. Fine. Everything is fine. Please. It’s fine. Breathe.

The blood rushing through his ears is so loud that he almost misses the quick footsteps approaching the room. There’s a knock at the door, a little hesitant.

“Lance, baby? You in here?”

Immediately, his breath evens, a little. Not quite normal, not yet, but he’s no longer in the hyperventilation territory.

“‘M here,” he says. Kind of gasps it, if he’s being honest.

“I’m coming in.”

“Mhm.”

The door finally opens, and Keith steps in. He’s still half-blocked by the door. All Lance can really see is one half of him; his bare foot, one leg of his boyfriend jeans, the black v-neck sweater that looks, like, really good on him. And his face, of course, and his dorky ponytail. He smiles when he sees Lance, although it’s a little sad. He doesn’t hesitate to step all the way in the room, sitting in front of Lance. He takes Lance’s hands gently in his, looking him in the face and smiling again. Encouraging.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I feel like shit,” Lance says.

Keith tugs on Lance’s hands. “Come here. Let me fix it.”

This time, Lance doesn’t hesitate. He crawls into Keith’s arms willingly, burying himself into the sent of pine and sandalwood and safety. Keith pulls him as close as possible, holding him tightly.

“Anything wrong in particular?”

“No. Yes. Dunno. Just feeling sucky. Worried about bothering you. Want to sleep.”

Keith presses a kiss to his temple, and then doesn’t move. He keeps his lips on Lance’s skin, even as he talks. “Well, I can tell you right now that you’re not bothering me, sweetheart. And you’re doing everything you can to get better — you’re being active, you’re eating right, you’re seeing Eleana twice a week. You’re doing great, nae salang.”

“But what about — I mean, you’re still dealing with me. All the time. You live with me. You can’t escape my shit at all, the burden that must —”

“Lance,” Keith’s voice is hard. Not mean, not angry; maybe firm is a better word. “A burden is something you carry involuntarily. But I love you, babe. A lot. So much. With every molecule in my body, actually.”

Lance can’t help the small grin. Keith is such a goober.

“I’m happy to help you,” Keith continues, kissing Lance again. “Not a burden, okay? I just want you to get better. Okay?”

Lance sniffles, nodding. “Okay.”

Keith grins. One of his big, wide ones, where his eyes crinkle. Lance loves him so much he feels it in the marrow of his bones.

“I love you,” Keith says again, pressing their foreheads together.

“I love you too,” Lance responds. He closes his eyes, still presses firmly against Keith, and breathes out, exhaling all the pain and stress and hopelessness and Bad of the day.

On his next inhale, all he smells is pine and sandalwood.

[prolix-yuy]

Bestie, I have a Yearning for a fic and I would like to share;

Reader is sick with a cold or something and a partner is taking care of them (Frankie preferably 😏) So, reader is in bed complaining about being sick and not being able to cuddle or kiss Frankie, but Frankie's dumbass is like "of course you can kiss me, duh." And reader is obviously gonna put their hand in Frankie's face to shove him away when he goes in for a kiss.

But after multiple attempts, Frankie convinces them *one little kiss won't hurt* and mwah! Right?

BUT THEN -

Frankie Obviously Gets Sick and now reader gets to gloat at him while they're both stuck in bed. And Of Course, Frankie is *totally* doing the whole man-cold thing, whining about how he can't breathe and how he's freezing. Reader is ready to smother him with a pillow at all times.

Idk, I'm just suddenly dying and suffering thinking about a domestic fic......

(P.S. This is not an ask for you to write a fic about this, I would just like you to suffer along with me.)

(P.P.S. @i-like-to-read-13 is me)

Oh my god, isn't this just such a Frankie thing to do? Just like "but you love it when I kiss you" and it cuts to her all:

But I will posit that Frankie, while being a man with a cold, is not the classic man-cold boy.

Instead he tries to hide it for as long as humanly possibly because he feels bad that he pushed you into kissing him and that now he's reaping the consequences.

A little sniffle here, a subdued cough there, and then suddenly he rattles off three Dad sneezes in a row (we know Frankie sneezes like a dad, that goober) and it's full-on red eyes, runny nose misery. And when he gets interrogated about it...

"I must have got it at work."

"No, you got it from kissing me!"

"Of course not, you were already better by then. Santi must have given it to me."

"You've been kissing Santi now?"

And it goes around and around until he admits yes, he shouldn't have planted one on you and yes, he would like some of the homemade chicken noodle soup you have in the freezer and yes, he will stay wrapped up on the couch with cold meds until he feels better.

But then you think about it

And technically

If you gave it to him

You can't get it back from him

So when you deposit the soup and the aspirin and the TV remote in front of him, and Frankie gives you a watery-sweet smile, you plant a kiss of your own on his surprised face.

Frankie doesn't mind the cold nearly as much then.

(as a side note, my husband is a huge germaphobe so if he even gets a whiff that I have a cold or anything I'm basically quarantined from him, so having a Frankie to dote on me while I'm sick is the dream)

[punkrockmads]

Found Family

Abby x F! Reader Mini Series

Song used: The Mother by Brandi Carlile

*...*= Evangeline's Age

Chapter Ten; The Mothers

*TWO MONTHS OLD*

ABBY'S POV

"Abby." I hear someone mumble. I groan, hiding my face in my pillow. "Abby." The voice calls again. As soon as I realize it's Y/N, I look up, blinking the sleep from my eyes.

"Yeah?" I yawn, seeing her holding Evangeline. Evangeline clings to her finger, resting peacefully in her arms.

"Watch." Y/N says. She sits beside me on the bed, a mischievous smile on her face. She takes her finger out of Evangeline's hand and Evangeline immediately starts crying. Y/N lets Evangeline take her finger again and she calms down instantly. I chuckle, watching as Y/N takes her finger away and gives it back once more. "She likes my fingers just as much as her Momma." Y/N snorts.

"Jesus christ." I scoff, laughing. "That's awful."

"You love me." Y/N grins. I sit up, shuffling over to sit behind her. I pull her body against mine, my legs resting on either side of her as I wrap my arms around her torso.

"I do." I mumble, kissing her neck. She sighs as my lips brush against that one special spot. "How long has it been since we-"

"Too long." Y/N cuts me off with a chuckle. "I'm touch-starved."

"Aww, my poor baby." I hum, kissing behind her ear. "I bet you're missing my fingers just as much as I miss yours, huh?" Y/N tenses, nudging me away with her elbow. "You miss the way I make you moan?"

"Little ears listening, Momma." Y/N warns with a smile. I feel a very familiar warmth in my gut at the sound of her calling me 'Momma'. I'll have to tuck that away for the next time we get the chance to pleasure each other. "Finally, she's asleep." Y/N sighs, pulling me out of my thoughts. "Can you take her so I can make lunch please?"

"Yeah, of course!" I nod, taking Evangeline in my arms. As soon as Y/N pulls her finger out of Evangeline's grasp, I quickly replace it with mine, feeling Evangeline latch on. Her tiny fist can just barely fit around my finger. I feel so much pride as I look at her. She looks so much like Y/N. I didn't think I'd ever feel a love like this, but... thanks to Y/N and Evangeline, Lev and I have an even bigger family, one full of love. "My little Evie." I whisper, kissing my baby's forehead. She scrunches up her nose and sticks her tongue out before relaxing again, sleeping peacefully in my arms. She's so little. So so tiny. "Wait..." I pause. "Lunch? How long did I sleep?"

"It's noon, honey." Y/N chuckles, kissing my cheek as she gets up. I follow her out of the room.

"Why didn't you wake me?" I ask, wondering how much she had to do on her own while I was asleep.

"You were exhausted." Y/N says. She stops in front of me once we get downstairs. "It's okay. I wanted you to sleep in for once." She smiles.

"Thank you, sweet girl." I sigh, kissing the top of her head.

"You can thank me by changing Evie's diaper." Y/N says with a laugh.

"Fiiiine." I groan. "You're lucky I love you."

"I am very lucky." Y/N says, walking into the kitchen. "And I love you too!" She calls as I walk into the living room. I look around for Evangeline's little backpack. Kayla found a really cute Hello Kitty kids' backpack and Y/N stuffed it with things like diapers, bottles, pacifiers, anything Evangeline might need that we can grab quickly.

"Hey, babe!" I wipe a bit of drool off of Evangeline's lip with my pinky as she stares up at me with big sparkly eyes. "Where's Evie's backpack?"

"Um..." Y/N pauses, the sound of clinking plates coming from the kitchen. "It's by the TV stand!" I spot it almost immediately, picking it up and carrying it and Evangeline over to the couch.

"Got it!" I let her know. I lay a baby blanket on the couch, setting Evangeline down carefully. She begins to whimper. "Shh. It's okay, honey." Evangeline starts sniffling, I can tell she's about to cry. "Oh, I know, baby. You just wanna be held, huh?" Evangeline kicks her feet, starting to get fussy. "Momma's gonna hold you in just a bit, baby." After five minutes of trying to wrestle a diaper onto my squirming bean child, I finally get her changed. As I go to set Evangeline's bag back by the TV stand, I trip on the foot of the coffee table, landing on the floor with a loud thud and prompting Evangeline to start wailing at the scary sound. I hear glass shatter as Y/N runs into the living room.

"Abby?!" She looks panicked, quickly picking up Evangeline and kneeling by my side as I sit up. "Holy shit, are you okay?" Evangeline continues to cry in Y/N's arms.

"Yeah." I groan. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just tripped." Y/N puts a hand on my shoulder, rocking Evangeline.

"Jesus." Y/N sighs, hiding an amused grin. Despite her efforts, she can't hold back a laugh. I smile, starting to laugh with her. "I dropped a fucking plate." We laugh harder at our clumsiness. "Oh, my little Evie." Y/N kisses her cheek, trying to get her to stop crying. She just cries louder, starting to make a little pouty face.

"I think it's this goober's lunch time, too." I chuckle. Y/N nods, fixing Evangeline's flower patterned jumper. "Want me to bring you something to eat?"

"Please." Y/N nods, already unclipping her bra underneath her shirt. "Everything's already made. And can you-" She pauses as I help her take her left arm out of her sleeve, maneuvering Evangeline so she can eat. "That. Thank you." She chuckles.

"Hey." I mumble, making her look up at me. "You're incredible." I smile. Y/N rolls her eyes, grabbing the collar of my shirt and pulling me into a kiss. I can't help but let out a low growl from deep in my throat, making her smile into the kiss, her teeth meeting mine. She pulls away, leaving me breathless as she stares at me with a knowing smile. The things she does to me. "Oh." I grab the pillow from the wooden chair in the corner, leaning it against the arm of the couch. "Here. This should be more comfy for you." I say, helping her reposition herself so her legs lay flat across the couch and her back rests against the pillow.

"God, I love you." Y/N sighs as I kiss the side of her neck. Her stomach grumbles, making me smile against her skin.

"Your affection will have to wait." I chuckle, putting a hand on Evangeline's back. "Mommy's gotta eat too." I tell her. Y/N hums, no doubt thinking the same thing I did earlier. I squeeze Y/N's shoulder before heading into the kitchen to finish preparing lunch. As I scoop fruit salad into bowls, I hear Y/N start singing to Evangeline. I pause, letting myself listen to my wife's beautiful voice.

'Welcome to the end of being

Alone inside your mind

You're tethered to another

And you're worried all the time

You always knew the melody

But you never heard it rhyme

She's fair and she is quiet, Lord

She doesn't look like me'

I smile a bit at the irony of that line. Evangeline looks so much like Y/N already.

'She made me love the morning

She's a holiday at sea

The New York streets are as busy

As they always used to be

But I am the mother of Evangeline'

[ceilingfan5]

for the "I love you" prompts, 5 or 42 or 44? :)

“You don’t have to pretend with me.”

It’s a gentle reminder, whispered velvet-soft against Taako’s cheek, and Taako stiffens for a little bit before forcibly relaxing himself, taking the arcane cosmetics with him. Kravitz presses a gentle kiss to his temple before he pulls back a little bit, taking him in.

Oh, how his heart hurts. Taako looks awful, tired, upset, afraid. Worn out. Haggard. His eye makeup has run a little and his nose is red, and seeing that guilty-scared look in Taako’s eyes, Kravitz does what he can to make things easier and pulls the chain on their ugly lamp. Darkness swallows them, and although they both have night vision, it’s a lot easier for Taako to relax now. 

“Oh, dove,” Kravitz says, buttery soft and melting a little around the edges, and Taako dives into his arms, mushing his face into Kravitz’s chest. The damage is done, anyway. 

“Hey,” Taako says, muffled a little by Kravitz’s now-rumpled shirt. Kravitz strokes his hair, enjoying the smell of his fancy shampoo. 

“Hey. Hard day?”

“Mhm…”

Kravitz just keeps tangling his fingers in Taako’s hair, tousling it into a silken waterfall. It’s long escaped his braid and Kravitz takes it down bit by bit, slowly calming Taako down. They sit on the couch in the dark and hold onto each other. 

“How’m’I s’posed to keep going when things suck so bad, Krav? It’s just one thing after another after the next and I never get a chance to breathe, and I feel like it’s my fault for not being strong enough, but-”

“Hey, hey...” Kravitz presses a kiss to Taako’s hair. “It’s not your fault. You’ve been going through so much this year. Anyone would take it hard. What you need is to be cared for, and I’m here to do that. You’re not alone anymore, Taako, and you don’t have to shoulder it all by yourself.” He holds Taako, rocking slightly, rubbing his back in little circles now. “You don’t have to think about surviving the whole future. Just one day at a time, one hour at a time, whatever it takes. You are cared for, and you will make it through this.” 

Taako sniffles. 

“What if things don’t get better?”

“Maybe they won’t, as a whole, but...well, there’s always something, no matter how small, that makes life worth living. You, me, the cats...eating breakfast for dinner, whatever it takes. Taako, you don’t have to pretend that things are okay. They’re not okay, and they won’t be okay for a while. But I am asking you, please, keep going. Even if it’s just an inch at a time, keep going.”

“...Yeah, alright...” Taako mutters. He sighs heavily, still a little shaky. “Breakfast for dinner does sound kinda good...”

“Excellent, you’ve fallen into my trap, and now I will get to eat pancakes,” Kravitz deadpans, and then he does his big dumb stupid villain laugh and Taako has to snort and punch him in the shoulder. 

“You absolute goober,” he says, and then, a little softer, “Thanks. I mean it, for everything, just...thanks.” 

“Always, love. Always.”

[gothsuguru]

THANK YOU FOR THE TAGS ON THIS KIT @vagabond-umlaut :3 it made me help flesh out some ideas hehe

your need grows teeth

(introverted librarian!geto x extroverted assassin!reader) OKAY SO THIS IS SOMETHING I AM SO INTRIGUED BY! i love the idea of suguru being an introvert and someone who finds comfort in books — i’m just imagining him in a big soft cardigan, reading glasses, and sweater paws… sniffles he’s just a very sweet gentle giant who’s sensitive and shy! so the idea that he’s a TARGET for an assassination is so funny to me 😭 reader doesn’t know suguru but is entranced by his beauty & shy personality and YES they’re an assassin YES they’re a terrible flirt YES they’re a goober at the end of the day <3 i love them <3 i just think there’s a lot to be explored for both of them! suguru’s growth & reader’s callousness/kindness is so interesting to me! it’s like bringing one out of their shell but also at the end of the day everything is built on a lie… idk i love this wip so much i’m so excited to write it whenever my brain plots out a proper story 😭

i was your angel, now i’m your god

(angel!gojo x sukuna’s vessel!reader) THIS IS BASED ON ONE OF MY VERY FIRST WIP IDEAS THAT I FORGOT ABOUT 😭 i got reminded of it when i saw the entity!gojo post & some art of angel!satoru <3 i’m just imagining a funky uni au where reader somehow, someway becomes sukuna’s vessel (maybe reader did it to save uraume or nanami idk i haven’t decided yet 😭) and they’re now the Host of evil sorcerer sukuna but sukie is more of an annoying pest rather than a demon overlord 😭 and then angel!satoru comes down from heaven to oversee the vessel of a demon… methinks it’s just very fun to have an angel and human and demon bicker constantly and satoru is like “the fate of the world rests on your shoulders” meanwhile reader is screaming crying throwing up over math homework like they’re so silly 2 ME! perhaps there’s also some visits by angel!suguru & fallen angel!toji idk i’m mapping some ideas out 😭 idk i could make this a Serious fic but i just think w sukugo in the mix it’s so much more fun to make it wacky & insane

[bbbarneswrites]

Small Places

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Don’t they say that after a storm, there’s always calm?  Genre: Romance/fluff Rating: T Warnings: Swearings, mental health issues 3,809 words

Notes: Here we are with a new piece after all these months! The songs we got for this one are The Moon by The Swell Season and Cellar Door by Angus & Julia Stone. Hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback always welcomed! <3

The small studio stays right in the heart of Brooklyn, surrounded by themed bars, bright restaurants and a crowd of millennials that makes him cringe every once in a while.

It’s a shoebox.

A bed that fights for space with a small couch, a kitchen that can be sized by two of his steps alone and a cramped bathroom with a bathtub that he honestly can’t fit in. But be as it may, Bucky has never been in a more comfortable, warm and welcoming atmosphere.

A bed with polka-dotted, fluffy blankets, a couch with bright colored and quirky pillows, a kitchen with a line of gifted succulents by the counter and a bathroom with filled shelves of sweet smelling products.

Pictures on the walls, sketches and love notes hung to the fridge, shared clothes thrown over in little corners.

Everything is so lively and familiar—it feels like home outside of his home.

The four walls of your little studio have been witnesses to so much. Whispered love confessions, frantic murmurs of comfort, quiet pleads in between moans, anger filled little lies, and the list can only go on.

There’s a Friday night.

Discarded containers of take-out on the coffee table, and maybe a carton of Ben & Jerry’s forgotten around after a fight over the last spoon. Netflix midway through a random episode of Stranger Things because yeah, Bucky has a growing crush on Winona Ryder. Peace fills up every fiber of his being, and looking down to the sight before him, things can’t feel more right.

“Your heart is beating so fast.” You mumble quietly, chin leaning up to rest upon his chest. A flesh arm tightens around your frame, and a lazy grin grows on your lips. “Are you nervous being around me, Bucky?”

The lightness laced to your voice is familiar, a tone he’s heard many, many times within the warmth of a shared trustfulness.

A smile curls up his lips. Even then, the sound never fails to make Bucky content and happy.

“I’m always nervous around you, baby.” He jokes, a gentle kiss pressing to your temple that earns a happy hum from your chest. “You’re way out of my league.”

Bucky’s smile widens with a muffled whine of protest, and his vibranium hand reaches out to push a strand of hair away from your eyes when you shift on the way-too-small couch. With your face still buried to his chest, there’s no space left between both of you. The fluffy hem of your socks tickles his legs and the skin of his tummy rise up in shivers under your fingers.

Meanwhile, Erica Sinclair goes off about capitalism on TV.

Despite the length of your relationship, a small part of him still gets surprised over moments like this.

Soft fingertips reaching out to his marred left shoulder, a light touch to trace the harsh and old outlines of his scars, by now the only ugly looking, physical reminder of a time of his life that’s best left behind to be buried and forgotten.

With a little giggle escaping from your mouth, Bucky halts his thoughts to focus.

“You’re cute.” You wink playfully, biting your lower lip to hold back another laugh. His cheeks instantly flush a little under the fairy lights of your walls. “This little scar here looks like a stick figure.”

The touch feels nice as your index finger brush over a particular spot near his collarbone. Though he’s observed every single detail of the marks in several occasions, more than enough to make him very familiar with its designs, he immediately takes your hand with his own. Wrapped fingers together, you guide him through his little stick figure.

It’s a little joke, he knows, but Bucky still grins as you make him trace the funny lines of a quirky drawing to his own skin.

And when you tip his chin with your thumb a moment later? Warmth radiating from your body pressed up to his? And lips sweetly meeting his own?

That’s his peace.

There’s a Wednesday morning.

After arriving from a mission, sore muscles and half-healed scabs, Bucky just couldn’t see himself going back to the apartment he shares with Sam—especially after a two week long mission, taking in everything that his partner had to say. And trust, Sam Wilson has a lot of things to say.

To top of it all, he’s missed you.

Missed your laugh and your kisses and your touch. The way you tuck his hair behind his ears, the plush of your lips to the base of his neck. Your cuddles and your warmth and your care. Two long, painstaking slow weeks.

The place is warm as he steps in, slits of moonlight escaping through your blinds. Coming home to you feels right, takes off an edge from his heart, as if everything is right in the world again.

Only silence as Bucky slips under the blankets.

Bleary eyes barely taking him in.

And a happy but tired hum before a familiar frame cuddles to his side.

Sleep welcomes him right in.

Any person that lives in New York can easily list a series of upsides and downsides to coexisting in a studio apartment this small. An upsidde is that you can see and hear everything and the downside is that you can see and hear everything.

White numbers cover up your face on the screen of his phone as it marks 3:36AM. The shuffling and clashing in the kitchen isn’t unusual except for the late hour. Barely four hours of sleep later, and Bucky’s watching a pajama-clad you pour chocolate into a bowl through squinted, heavy eyes.

“Think I need to put you on a sleep schedule.” He murmurs. The sound is low but enough to make you jump on the spot, turn around with a scowl that makes him chuckle. “Come back to bed.”

The tense features of your face melt into a mix of worry and dejection.

“I can’t!” You cry, hands coming up to cover your face in frustration, words all muffled. “I promised I’d bake brownies for the book fair but I was so tired and I meant to take a nap while waiting for you but I just slept and now I woke you up!”

It takes two steps until Bucky has your frame into his arms, a perfect fit that rises butterflies in your stomach after the two, very long weeks. With vibranium fingertips brushing along your cheeks in a gentle caress, every negative feeling slips away.

“You were waiting for me?” Bucky pulls back a little, enough to see you pout through a nod. A loving smile grows easily to his mouth right before a gentle kiss to your lips. “I love you.”

Brownies are made in record time with two sets of wandering hands.

And are successfully sold out by two excellent sellers.

There’s a Monday afternoon.

Clouds are looming over the city. Cold, bitter winds singing loud enough outside. The first few signs of fall can be spotted by a quick walk in the neighborhood by now, trees turning into different shades of brown as pumpkin orange starts to pop everywhere.

Back to a few hours earlier, Bucky begrudgingly kisses you goodbye at the cramped doorstep, fixing your heart-shaped earmuffs with a wish of a good day at school. No paperwork or assignments under his name for a change, the place shelters him from any unexpected Avenger responsability, and he’s more than glad to wait home for you.

Separated dirty clothes, clean dishes back to the cupboards, made-up bed with fresh sheets, organized books and trinkets and papers for the small study table.

Homecoming isn’t as comforting.

Between quiet sniffles, red-rimmed teary eyes and angry huffs of frustration with the addition of a warm tea cup, Bucky cuddles you up to his lap until peace has settled again.

“You gonna tell me who I’m killing tonight?” He jokes half-heartedly, chest a little bit lighter as you giggle quietly, offering a slap to his arm. “Just say the word and I’ll do it.”

A single look from you and his heart swells with affection, the feelings hidden behind the simple act never failing to leave him speechless, wondering if there’s another shoe to drop.

There’s always another shoe to drop in his life.

“You don’t do that anymore, remember?” You say softly, a smart smile playing on your lips that’s followed by a tired, but now content sigh. “I’m okay, promise. Just a bad morning in school that wasn’t expected.”

Hands brought closer together and a kiss pressed to your knuckles by his lips.

Bad days take no excuse.

“Okay, doll.” Bucky frowns, eyes squinted in pretend suspicion as he smirks. “You really sure though? I can call Sam.”

“I’m sure, goober.” You roll your eyes through a laugh, instantly leaning closer until his lips are brushing to your own. “It’s all better now with you.”

Seventy years of a missed life, most of which he’s spent nearly under seven feet underground, locked up like an animal and abused for selfish power. Ruthless damage to every inch of his being, every sliver of hope taken from him without permission for decades. Now, eight years after a seeming never ending storm, Bucky finds reason in all of this.

It feels good to know that she’s with him too.

And if the day ends up to both of you curled up in the back booth of the diner down the street, ordering a late night breakfast with pancakes and eggs and bacon, then it’s a good day after all.

There’s a Thursday night.

The day has been slow in the apartment given your day-off from school. Silence and a few movies on Netflix are your companions, except for the visit of your friendly neighborhood stray cat, Alpine, who climbs up to your windowsill every day without fail. Bucky is usually the one who feeds him, and mostly the one who’s unofficially adopted the kitten.

A pause here for a quick, improvised meal between homework, another pause there for a bath under glittery bath bombs.

Being away from him is normal.

His missions can last to mere hours to unexpected months. Living within the job is basically the norm, all with recruits training, team meetings and securing duties. Your classes are demanding, both physically and mentally. It never ends and never leaves you, always something to be started or done back home.

Either way, anxiousness never leaves you in a week like this.

Nearing a certain date on the calendar, Bucky’s plagued by restless nights.

It feels like a sore spot in his body, one he knows all about it but still can’t help but be upset at, poking and prodding around as a way to remember it. Despite knowing his best-friend way too well, Steve’s choice wasn’t one taken lightly back then.

The reasoning is fair and understandable but it doesn’t lessen the bitterness of a brief meeting after a six year long disappearance.

Not much can be done by now, but two years after Steve’s official death, Bucky still plays what ifs in his head. 

After gentle coaxing in between kisses in the night before and encouraging hugs and squeezes in the morning after, Bucky spends the whole day back at the compound, a scheduled therapy session set to the calendar of his phone.

When sunlight falls to a sheet of night stars, familiar but heavy steps sound like music to your  ears.

A random song playing through your laptop and slow beats welcome Bucky home.

It takes a single look at you until he’s sighing relieved, hauling your frame up to his arms in the middle of the small kitchen, where you both barely fit in during busy mornings with shoulder bumps and mumbled but playful complaints.

Sure it has been a pretty nostalgic day but nothing beats being right there.

“You smell good.” Bucky says, an almost shy mumble against your hair, his arms gently tightening around you. “Peach?”

The easy but definitely familiar guess makes you smile instantly. Heat rises on your cheeks, your chin rests on his chest as your eyes look for his own, very blue, very alive compared to a few hours back. Golden detailed fingertips brush your cheeks and a content hum escapes from your lips instantly.

“That bathbomb you gave me, remember?” You smile, voice sounding small and equally as shy until Bucky tips down, his lips meeting your own in a featherlike kiss that makes you sigh. “How are you feeling?”

Bucky smiles, crinkles forming in the corners of his eyes and then, the smooth sway starts. Finding rhythm with the slow beats still playing background, you can’t help but feel your chest lighter. In that moment, neither of you need to share words to know, he doesn’t need to tell you about his session for the feelings to sink.

Despite any doubt and above any insecurity, being right there feels just right.

It’s not his day and age. For a long time, he was nothing but a misplaced piece of the universe. Then without his best-friend, just an unknown face for the team to swallow.

Not anymore.

There was a time of misplacement and sure, he no longer has Steve on a back-up call but life has given him good things. Good people. Sam and Wanda. Love. You. And in that moment, after a long day of reflection, Bucky just feels thankful above any odd feeling.

“Feelin’ great.” He muses. It’s genuine and it makes your smile widen upon his accent slip, only cut short by Bucky’s lips briefly meeting yours again. “Thank you.”

Background music switching to an upbeat song and the shared slow, careful sway doesn’t change.

“What for?” You frown, wide eyes flicking between confusion and amusement through a quiet, huffed laugh. A beat until you look up through your eyelashes, and a sheepish shrug. “I haven’t done anything.”

Bucky bites back the reply—you’ve done everything and more, you’re everything—words for another time, other plans, a day with a better start. After all, he’s not going anywhere.

This is his place now.

And in the end of the day, that’s all it matters.

There’s a Saturday afternoon.

An array of long dresses and skirts mix-up with button-ups and printed ties on the bed, make-up and skin products all over the cabinet. The sun slowly lies down to a soft hue of orange that paints the bedroom space, and the off-beat singing coming from the bathroom makes you smile every now and then.

A coat of lipstick to the lips, mascara to the eyelashes. A well-placed hair pin to the side of your hair. Out of the bathroom Bucky gets, black suit and tie in place, not a wrinkle on sight to the white button-up shirt. The singing turns to a faint humming.

Short hair, trimmed beard. His blue eyes are alight. Positively beaming.

It’s just a few hours to go until the big event starts—Mr. and Mrs. Wilson anniversary, which they’re celebrating with one big ceremony to renew their vows with their children present. Bucky, much to Sam’s feigned dismay and Darlene Wilson’s stubborness, is now considered one of them.

In the very few opportunities you got to meet Darlene, she was nothing short of sweet to you and incredibly motherly to your boyfriend. Not much is needed to see how happy Bucky is to be participating in their day, and you can’t help but beam right back at him.

“Looking so handsome!” You grin, watching through the mirror as Bucky sits on the bed, shiny black shoes set on the floor. His lips are holding back a smirk. “I mean it, Bucky! This hair? I’m marrying you.”

At the words, Bucky looks up.

Between the Blip, his missions, your classes and whatnot, neither of you ever discussed the possibilities of a long-term future.

Have you both thought about it, though? Absolutely.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble.” Bucky sighs. Quickly settling into his shoes, a crooked smile curves up his mouth as he stands up, gentle fingers around your satin clad waist. “You’re so beautiful. I’m a lucky bastard, aren’t I?”

It feels like your brain instantly turns to mush over his words, and your tongue stumbles to find proper words to reply his sudden sweet outburst. Heat spreads through your neck and cheeks as you lean back against his chest, feeling Bucky’s arms wrap you completely with such warmth like home is supposed to feel.

Watching your reflections through the mirror, you can’t help but think how comforting the situation is, even if it can look silly to anybody else. How comforting is to see you with him, the changes, the little quirks that remain the same after a straight up mess.

How funny is it that you want to turn your little comment into reality?

How funny is it that Bucky wants that moment of certainty to freeze?

“You’ve got to help me with something.” You break the silence, smiling shyly before reaching out to the small jewelry box sitting on your make-up cabinet. A silver necklace with a studded little star is pulled out. “Please?”

Smart fingers wrap the necklace around your neck with ease, the touch of vibranium rising shivers to your skin as Bucky closes it with a little kiss pressed between your shoulder blades.

There’s that little moment of silence again until a sigh escapes from his lips, a beat of hesitancy rushing through his body before he’s fishing for the black box in his pocket. A box he’s been carrying for way too long now, just waiting for its buyer to build up the damn courage because that’s all it takes.

I mean it, Bucky! I’m marrying you.

“I’ve got something else for you to wear tonight.” Bucky says. Heart pounding violently through his chest, so much he thinks you might hear it, but voice sounding as light as ever under your curious eyes. “I—I’ve had it for a long time now. And I know it might not be the perfect moment but you just said you’d marry me.”

Turning around to face him, your mouth immediately falls open. Chest to chest, your eyes searching for his. And ss Bucky lifts the little velvet box and flips it open so, so easily with his metal thumb, your choked, disbelieved laugh fills the room.

The ring is beautiful.

No fancy stones, just a simple, silver band formed to wrap around a finger with its two ends meeting together on the top.

Both of you kept meeting each other over and over through accords, battles and sudden disappearances.

It’s meaningful enough to make your heart beat faster.

“You can’t be serious. Are you?” You ask dumbly, a silly smile soon growing on your lips as Bucky gives a playful glare. “You are. Holy shit, Bucky!”

“You aren’t sayin’ yes, baby doll.” Bucky jokes, starting to feel jittery with nerves despite a small grin. Under the anxiety and accent slip, he’s just loving to see how positively astonished you look. “I’m sweating under this suit and it won’t be good for—”

Red lips crash upon his in a rush, your fingers fisting the lapels of his suit so hard that Bucky almost stumbles on his feet, making him pull your body flush against his own. He’s sure your fingers are wrinkling his jacket just as much as his metal ones are wrinkling the delicate fabric of your dress. And your make-up, thank God, you’re wearing the smudge-proof lipstick.

There’s no time to breathe between quick, several pecks and a gasped but definitely excited reply.

“I am saying yes!”

There’s another Satuday afternoon.

A pair of booted feet walks through the tight hallway of the shoebox apartment, laughter completely filling the place as a pair of heeled feet bumps the wall in a funny noise.

The white sandals are a perfect match for the white mini dress, its hem flowing over very familiar thighs, showing a little too much because the position—or general space really, isn’t the best. Turns out that despite your skepticism, Bucky can carry you in bridal style through the cramped space. Even though, you can easily spot a stain in the back of his blazer because of a knocked vase. 

It doesn’t really matter.

As Bucky puts you down, your heels are kicked off and you immediately reach out to the memory board on the wall, pinning up a marriage certificate like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

When you turn around, Bucky is sitting by the edge of the bed just like one week ago, but now sans apprehension of an insecure man.

“We’re married!”

The gleeful tone of your words make him smile right away, pulling you closer with a gentle tug until you’re standing between his legs. Towering over him, your hands cup both of Bucky’s cheeks, thumbs brushing over the sharp, stubbly cheekbones. Your heart swells in your chest, happiness and love and calmness, because everything about the day really had been simple.

A city hall wedding with Sam, Wanda and Sam’s parents as witnesses, exactly a week after their own second wedding. Very simple and easy, as the decision of marrying each other had been.

“You’re officially a Barnes.” Bucky grins, hands brushing down the back of your thighs. Gentle fingertips under the hem of your dress, he silently urges you to sit on his lap. “Told ya, got me in trouble.”

“You say that as if you didn’t want to marry me.” You scoff playfully, wrapping your arms around his neck as settling down over him. “You can’t fool me. I totally noticed you were nervous back there.”

Not bothering to deny your words, Bucky shrugs. Even though he was nervous, it doesn’t really matter. Wrapped up in each other, surrounded by the quietness of the apartment, all he cares about is you.

A little kiss pressed to your neck.

“Well, you’d be nervous too if you were marryin’ the prettiest girl in the world.”

A laugh and a little kiss pressed to his nose.

“Well, I was nervous marrying the prettiest boy in the world.”

And then—Bucky’s lips are meeting yours in a soft kiss that swallows a sigh, hands steady and gentle around your waist as he dips down to the bed under your body. It feels like you’re both back at the ceremony again, high on your love and completely unaware of everything that isn’t each other. And he kisses you once, twice, three, four times.

Just enough to ground him, to remind him that this is what his life came to.

Don’t they say that after a storm, there’s always calm?

Yeah, well. This little shoebox apartment in the heart of Brooklyn.

This might be just it.

[anexplanationofunfortunateevents]

a friendly update on what’s happening with the vote count

Nobody wants to be the person who gives you false hope the nightmare is over.  At the same time, my goal here has always been to clear out some of the underbrush of bullshit and make it a little easier to understand what’s happening in the world. I don’t think that goal is served by letting right-wing merchants of doubt create a suffocating fog of unknowability.

Between the states that have finished counting, the >90% of the popular vote which has been counted, and where those last few votes are … I can’t think of a scenario where Trump pulls this out that I can defend as plausible. I don’t mean “I’m a poll wizard and I know exactly the percentage of college-educated Taiwanese-American moms in northern Fulton County.” I mean I was going to say “unless there’s a spectacularly successful hack” and couldn’t defend it. (Reasoning: if you’re competent enough to pull that kind of thing off, then you were smart enough to see that the best time to do that was between 9 and 11 PM on Tuesday night and the window was sliding shut all day Wednesday. If you’re dumb enough to try and pull a fast one today, it’s probably too late and the NSA will definitely catch you.)

A court decision? I hope I’ve been clear about how aggressively corrupt the decision in Bush v. Gore was twenty years ago and how much worse the courts are today. I don’t think they’re afraid to cross some dictatorship event horizon. I do think that Trump’s lawyers and judges are quickly running out of literal time to play those games. There’s a reason that poll workers have been pulling all-nighters in Atlanta and Philadelphia. It actually does take a minute to come up with something an extremely expensive attorney can say in court without worrying they’re going to lose their reputation or their law license. (State bar associations are perfectly free to decide that “going into court to tell deranged fascistic lies in farcically meritless suits” is a breach of professional ethics!) That may explain why their top legal eagle at the moment is an extra from a Borat movie. I know you think I’m being cute with that description but nope!

Two other things that suggest the wind is blowing our way:

Trumpist goobers have been self-soothing with clownish attempts to bully Michigan and Arizona election workers until they “stop the count,” after Biden pulled ahead in those states. I’m glad that local authorities are taking the slight risk of violence seriously, but I do think the rest of us have the obligation to note that these ding-dongs are like “I LOVE TRUMP! DON’T YOU DARE COUNT MY VOTE!! YOU CERTIFY THIS STATE FOR JOE BIDEN RIGHT NOW GODDAMMIT!!! MAGA!!!!” Meanwhile, unions in Philly have people dancing in the streets and cheering for the poll workers to count the votes.

Trump has been completely dependent on Fox News to bail him out at every turn. They’re not following him off this ledge.

You might come across some take artists who are desperately clinging to their beloved Dems in disarray narratives or pretending this year’s exit polls are worth the paper they’re printed on. They are damaged people who want to steal your joy at Vice President Kamala Harris breaking down barriers for women, infinitely expanding the dreams of little Black girls, bringing delight and pride to South Asian Americans. YOU DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, GOTTA HAND IT TO THEM.

So.

If my analysis of the situation changes at any time, I’m going to take this post down, because it will become dangerous misinformation. At the moment, though, I think giving the bad guys the power to deprive us of clarity is also tacit misinformation.

There isn’t going to be a gracious, cinematic concession, because Trump is a dick. There isn’t going to be a formal procedure until the Electoral College votes are tallied in December. We still have two hard and razor-thin Senate runoffs to win in Georgia. (GEORGIA!) We aren’t out of the woods until noon on inauguration day. And at 12:01 on January 20th, we start a new phase of incredibly important work.

If you’re not ready yet to let yourself believe that the Trump nightmare actually can end in just a few weeks, I get it. Honestly, I think that’s why I’m hedging a little bit more than I can rationally defend. But like. I was watching MSNBC early Wednesday morning when Trump shambled into the East Room to sniffle his way through a low energy autocratic attempt to declare that the real vote count was over and he had won the bigliest of victories. The three lady anchors laughed at him on live television. Then Wednesday night, the three lady anchors came back on television and laughed at him some more. I believe that’s what comparative politics scholars refer to as an “autocratic womp womp.”

[lihikainanea]

Tiger getting drunk and laying on the couch and she’s all heart eyes for her boy but he’s out grabbing groceries. She calls him and is slurring every word but he just listens to her mumbling nonsense while he grabs food for her. :,)

oh god I am SO FUCKIN SOFF FOR THIS.

Listen. Listen, bubs. Let’s add another layer to this, alright? Let’s even just go ahead and say poor tiger is riding the crimson wave and she’s in pain and all needy about it.

Maybe homegirl had a big win this week, a big work project that came through or a raise or a promotion or even just some nice words from some higher up at her job when she completed a project. She was stoked about it, but a Wednesday night is a weird night to celebrate so they saved it for Saturday. (For the record, I think every day is a great day to celebrate. Any excuse to have champagne, really.)

And Bill’s a big sap for his Little Human so you know he planned it to start early. And while he also had plans Friday night to ensure he banged her brains out so good that she could barely walk Saturday, the poor kid came schlepping home Friday night, already doubled over in pain, miserable and shivering.

“What’s wrong, kid?” he coos at her, running his hands over her arms as she thunked her forehead on his chest.

“I got my period,” she mumbles, “I wasn’t due for another week, but surprise motherfucker.”

He makes a sympathetic noise, plops a kiss on her head.

“I hurt everywhere,” she says pitifully. He wraps her up in a hug, lifts her so she can wrap her legs around his waist.

“Let’s fix that, then,” he says as he kisses her cheek. So his plans to ruin her were swapped out instead for a bubble bath, his giant sweatshirt and a pair of comfy sweatpants for her, a hot water bottle, lots of cuddles, some good food and some wine, and nearly an entire kilogram bag of gummy bears before she eventually just passed out on his chest. He carried her to bed, settling her under the covers before scooting out to refill her hot water bottle for her.

But listen tiger woke up the next day warm and snuggly, the ever present ache in her lower belly still present but much better now. Bill’s thumb was tucked in her mouth and even though she was awake she made no effort to remove it, in fact she just wrapped her hand around his wrist to hold it there. His chest was flush against her back, hot as a furnace, his long legs tucked up comfortably under hers. His arm is wrapped tight around her, across her rib cage and up between her breasts. She’s just...cocooned in his warmth, and when he feels her start to wake he pulls her closer, nuzzles his scratchy chin onto her shoulder.

“Morning sweet girl,” he purrs, all raspy and deep, “You feeling okay?”

She whimpers a little but it’s a happy, satisfied one--scooting her ass back into him and curling up a little smaller so he’d hug her tighter. It works. She nods her head, still keeping a hold of his thumb in her mouth.

“Are you in pain?” he asks, and she shivers a little when he lays a soft kiss on her shoulder, runs his scratchy jaw up her neck and kisses her earlobe.

She shakes her head.

“Good,” he whispers, settling back on his pillow and sniffing her hair, “Pinch me when you want your coffee.”

And they stay like that, a real lazy morning. He drifts in and out of sleep, until he feels her playfully nip his thumb still nestled in her mouth. He smirks but doesn’t move, and a few seconds later, she bites it with a little more intent. Chuckling, he raises up and kisses her cheek, giving her butt a playful tap.

“Alright, I get it,” he laughs.

But like, listen. Bill had full intentions of making this a weekend celebration, full of all of her favourite things. So not only does he bring her coffee, but he also brings in a bottle of pretty expensive champagne with two chilled flutes.

“What’s this?” she asks, as she sits up.

“This is to celebrate my girl, in all of her bad assery,” he says. He makes a show of popping the cork, handing her the two glasses to hold while he pours it out. I’ll bet he even playfully splashes some of the cold liquid “accidentally” on her chest while her hands are occupied, diving forward to lick it up from between her breasts.

“Oops,” he mumbles playfully against her lips, “My bad.”

Tiger’s got a pretty high alcohol tolerance but bubbles will do it for her every time. So by the time he’s ready to get breakfast on, she’s probably already a little tipsy. But she winces as she goes to stand up, because shit her stomach is starting to cramp up again and her lower back is pretty sore. Bill swoops down and picks her up, grabs her hot water bottle from the bed, and carts her to the kitchen so she can keep him company. He sets her down on the counter, refills her hot water bottle and tucks it against her abdomen, stealing a kiss.

And she’s just feeling so good and safe you know? He took such good care of her last night, he’s still taking care of her this morning and he’s just standing there all tall and shit, saying things like how proud he is of her. Tiger’s buzzed and so soft about it.

And while he usually knows her schedule and knows when to stock up on her favourites, this round came early so he wasn’t prepared. And he needs to slip out after breakfast just to get some stuff--he doesn’t have anymore of her favourite ice cream and he knows she’ll be looking for it later. He hadn’t anticipated that she’d eat the whole kilogram of gummy bears last night so he needs more of those too. He ran out of Midol for her, and needs to pick up a few more iron-rich foods to incorporate into dinner tonight to help her feel better.

She wants to stay glued to his side but the thought of getting dressed and going out are just pretty daunting right now, so he sets her up on the couch with a movie, a warm blanket--and some more champagne. He gives her a big, lingering smooch and tells her he’ll be back in an hour.

He doesn’t make it in the car for 10 minutes before she’s calling him.

“Hey kid,” he greets, “Everything okay?”

“Hi uh...yeah. I just...I...” she’s mumbling and man he can hear that she’s small for him just by her voice. He smiles--she’s usually a big goober when he takes care of her but he knows the addition of her cycle and how big of a week it was for her is just really compounding it all. And he loves it. My god, he loves it when she gets like this.

“Do you miss me already?” he smiles. He tries to keep his tone playful without being mocking--mocking, hell just light teasing, would cut her too deep when she’s like this.

“No,” she mutters, and then a pause, “....maybe.”

She stops to hiccup and he laughs.

“I’m not far, kid. I usually have all the stuff you like on hand and you’re like clockwork, but this one caught me by surprise,” he’s babbling but he’s just doing it so that she can listen to his voice, “I need your ice cream, and some more gummy bears. Do you want the regular ones or the sour ones?”

Silence for a second. He clues in.

“Or both?”

“Both, please,” she says, and then he hears her sniffle just a tad, “You always take such good care of me.”

God his heart clenches.

“I love taking care of you, tiger,” he said, “It makes me feel really good, too.”

“You’re just so good to me,” she continues, “You always know what I need even before I do. And you always smell so good and you’re so warm and your hugs are the best because your arms are really long and you squeeze me extra tight, and you always--always--do that thing where you hug me tighter as I go to pull away.”

He parks in the lot of the store, smiling shyly to himself as he grabs his phone and keeps it to his ear.

“And you let me do that weird thing that I like doing even when I don’t realize I’m doing it and you don’t make me feel bad or weird about it. What kind of adult still sucks their thumb?”

“I love it when you suck my thumb, kid,” he says, “It’s so goddamn cute.”

“it’s weird but you still let me do it. And the way you sometimes drag me closer when I’m sleeping, I just wake up and you’re pulling me closer and tucking me more into you and it’s really nice.”

He stops for a second, because shit he didn’t realize that she knew he did that.

“And you’re a good kisser,” she keeps babbling, slurring a little and pausing every now and then to hiccup, “Your lips are always so soft and you take your time, you don’t shove your tongue down my throat and you just take it slow and it makes me think you enjoy it too.”

He’s motoring through the store now, because fuck all he wants it to just be back home and tuck her into his arms.

“I do enjoy it. I love kissing you, kid. Could do it all day,” he says.

“Are you almost home?” she says pitifully. God he almost throws the cart to the side, abandoning everything just to run back to her.

“Almost kid, just paying now,” he says.

And once he’s back in the car he just guns it home, going full speed. He throws the car haphazardly into the driveway and bounds up the steps. When he unlocks the door she’s curled up there where he left her, all small and bundled up in the corner of the couch. Her eyes are still a little glassy, a little unfocused from the champagne, but he just kneels in front of her, takes her face gently in his hands, and leans forward to kiss her. It’s slow and soft but intense, deep, lingering as she whimpers against his mouth and he pulls her in closer. When he breaks apart he licks his lips, lets out a slight laugh of disbelief, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against hers.

“Yeah,” she whispers reverently, “You do that really well.”

“All day, kid,” he murmurs.

[returnn-of-the-mac]

Sole Survior loses Dogmeat and frantically searches for him, companion`s reactions!?

FO4 Companions React: Sole Looking For Dogmeat

After a long and grueling fight against invading Super Mutants at Oberland Station, Sole settled down for a little lunch. It was then that they realized that their canine companion was missing. A panicked Sole searched around the entire settlement. After hours of searching that proved fruitless, a dejected Sole plopped down on the train tracks, fighting back tears.

Curie: Curie was quick to comfort Sole. She immediately ran over and sat next to her companion. “It’s okay, [Madam/Monsieur], we’ll find Dogmeat,” She gently rubbed Sole’s back and thought for a moment, “I can help you look more tonight. We can cook up some Brahmin steaks and use them to lure him back to us.”

Strong: Strong hesitantly approached Sole. “Human look sad, Strong no like,” the Supermutant continued, “Strong sorry brothers scare dog away. We look for him.”

X6-88: X6 stood beside Sole. “[Sir/Ma’am], it’s unfortunate your dog started and ran away,” he began, “But if we return to the Institute, we can use a terminal to track him down.”

Hancock: “Ah man, that really is a bummer about Dogmeat,” Hancock said, putting a comforting hand on Sole’s shoulder, “But the big guy absolutely adores ya. He’ll come back, no doubt. I’ll keep helping you look in the meantime.”

Preston: “I’m sorry about Dogmeat, General,” Preston started, sitting down next to Sole, “Maybe we could make posters to inform others that he’s missing. It might be easier to find him if we have more eyes.”

Danse: “Losing a best friend is always hard, but he’s still out there, soldier,” Danse began, “I’ll help you search until he’s found.” Danse paused for a moment, and then continued, “I advise against letting others know he’s missing. There’s the risk of him being held hostage if others find out.”

Gage: “Aw, hell boss. That sucks about Dogmeat. I was startin to like that lil guy.”’ Gage stood up, “But we ain’t done searchin yet. Only suckers give up.”

Piper: Piper sat down next to her companion. “Don’t worry, Blue. We’ll find Dogmeat. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere,” she began, “The little goober loves you to death. There’s no way he wouldn’t find his way back to you eventually.”

Longfellow: “Don’t be down in the dumps yet, kiddo,” Longfellow reassured. “Hell, we haven’t even tried a quarter of the methods we could use to find him.” Longfellow pulled a slab of deathclaw meat out of his inventory. “Now, we could cook this up nice n smokey and maybe that will attract him. We could even try hunting calls to try to direct him this way.”

Cait: “Why do ye miss that oversized rat so much? We can find ye another dog, for Christ’s sake.” Cait could tell that her response upset Sole even more. She rolled her eyes, “If it means so damn much to ye, I guess I’ll keep lookin with ye.”

Codsworth: “Oh, [sir/mum]...I’m so sorry,” Codsworth started, “I will do everything I can to help you find him. I won’t quit any time soon. I know how much he means to you.”

Nick: Nick crouched next to Sole and put a firm hand on their shoulder. “Hey now, don’t give up just yet. Are you forgetting who you have by your side?” Nick adjusted his hat, “Diamond City’s top detective. Commonwealth renowned too—not to toot my own horn,” he continued, “I will use every trick up my sleeve to help you find him, friend. You’ll see him again soon enough; you can count on that.”

MacCready: MacCready slumped down next to Sole and sniffled, “Aw, I really liked the big guy...what? No, I’m not crying!” He quickly wiped away a stray tear. “We’re gonna find him, [name]. I will do everything in my power to track him down. We’ll find our little buddy soon!”

Deacon: “C’mon pal! Don’t be giving up yet!” Deacon began, putting a loose arm around his friend, “We’re gonna find him. The lil pupper couldn’t have wandered too far. Besides,” Deacon continued, standing up, “You’ve got me here to help you!”

Ada: “[Sir/Ma’am], please don’t be upset. I can conduct a scan and track him down,” the robot reassured. Ada stood still and beeped steadily for about 30 seconds. She then lit up, “[Sir/Ma’am], I’ve found him! He is on his way back to Sanctuary Hills.”

[universal-kitty]

Sometimes I forget I was doing art trades... Whoops! I really need to finish those...    For a start-! Here’s the my side of an art trade with @robotarmjokes! You can see their side here!

   “Do you think he really likes me?” Cassie looked up from her report to the knowledge broker standing near her desk, fiddling with the ring that proved Atlas’ CEO was a married man. A ring he’d given the broker- DL Munro, now DL Strongfork- a year ago by now.

   This wasn’t the first time Cassie and DL talked. DL had a looser schedule being a knowledge broker, so it wasn’t uncommon for the woman to come up to spend time with her husband. Rhys usually let her in immediately, but in some cases, he was busy, and she had to wait until his meeting or appointment was over with before D could come in.

   This was merely one of those handful of times such was the case. Giving the two time to chat a bit.

   Cassie glances at the ring DL was fiddling with, then to Mrs. Pink herself. Frowning... Where had this come from?

   “He married you, didn’t he?”

   “Well, yeah, but...” She sighed, stopping her fidgeting for staring at the floor. “...I just don’t know what he’s doing with someone like me, y’know? There’s plenty of way prettier people out there who’re smarter, look better, don’t swear as much...       “I just wonder what he likes about me that he keeps sticking around...” D was silent after that, turning away from Cassie more, so the secretary wouldn’t see the expression she was making. Not that it stopped Cassie any, staring at D for a few moments, plans for the day abandoned for a bit in favor of helping D with her insecurities.

   “...Hey, DL? Look at me.” D hesitated, before turning to look at Cassie, embarrassment on her face and eventually raising her glassy eyes to Cassie’s. “No doubt in the universe that man loves you,” she stated, tone stern. “He lights up when you enter a room, even when you first got here. He was thrilled with every little thing you ever did. Now he just straight up brags about it to anyone who’ll listen. Sure, your swearing surprised him at first, but he’s grown to love it so much. I know because not only has he told me fifteen times that exact thing, but he swears more when he stubs his toe on the upper right leg of the coffee table in his office. Yes, he still hasn’t adjusted to it being there.

   “This man has told anyone with hearing that he loves you. If they can’t hear, I wouldn’t doubt he whipped out a presentation for those who could read to show how much he loves you. There isn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for you, DL.” D sniffled, wiping at her eyes with the heel of her hand. Cassie offered a tissue instead, which D quickly accepted.

   “...I know it’s kinda hard to believe... Having issues with yourself really fucks with you. I’ve got some self-esteem issues, myself,” Cassie admitted, her tone soft and caring, leaning back in her chair. “But... To the best of your abilities, you can’t let that plague you. Things are good. Bad things? Heh, well, they’ll have to deal with you and the boss. I sure wouldn’t want to be the person who sees him all worked up like that.” She laughed a little, leaning forward to reach for her coffee and...it did help lighten the mood, DL laughing softly, herself.

   “Hey... Thanks, Cass. That’s real nice of you to say all that...”

   “It’s no problem, Mrs. Strongfork.” The secretary gave a friendly, confident wink before glancing up at her screen, tapping something. “Boss?”

   “Is my wife still out there?” Cassie could see D blushing already, eyes flickering between the faint view of Rhys and staring down at her feet.

   “You know it.”

   “Oh, good! The meeting is over, so send her in! And do keep an eye on the new CEO of Maliwan... I’m getting some bad vibes from over there.”

   “Not the first time, nor the last, bossman,” she snarked, a ghost of a smile on her lips. “Will do.” He soon hung up, Cassie nodding at the door for DL to enter as she got back to work.

   Stepping through those doors, it...was pretty comforting. The familiar sight of his office, Rhys messing with his computer with a frown before spotting his wife, a bright smile breaking out onto his face. 

   “There’s my baby~! C’mere,” he cried, standing up swiftly out of his chair (stumbling a little when his shoe caught the corner of his desk), and opening his arms for D. She couldn’t help the returning smile, picking up her pace to rush into his arms. Comforting hold, familiar smells she could breathe in... It really felt like home. And made all her fears seem...silly.

   Though looking up at his face...

   “Babe, do you have stubble on your lip?”

   “Hm?”

   “I see hairs! Don’t tell me-”

   “If I was thinking of getting a mustache, I sure wouldn’t know!”

   “That doesn’t make any sense, you goober!! Are you thinking of growing a ‘stache?!”

   “Ah, I- I might be!!! I think I would look very cool with a mustache, thank you!!” She could only laugh at his rather flustered, indignant way of saying that, holding him tighter with her face in his chest. What a goof...

   It felt good to be with him again. The worries, gone. Happiness? Endless.

[snowdog49]

A Mother’s Love

By: Snowdog49/Pokypup49 (AO3)

Rating: G

Moms made Fullmetal Week 2019

Day 2: Prompt: Death

Angst warning

Characters: Ed, Al, Winry, Winry’s Mom, Ed and Al’s mom, Pinako. 

910 words A little girl with yellow hair draping down her back, hugged her knees as she sat on the edge of an irrigation ditch. Her face was buried in her arms, her back shaking with the tears that flowed from her tightly shut eyes. Her eyes were puffy, her breathing was ragged, but she didn’t sniffle. Instead, the snot from her nose dripped from her nose freely. The only way the Elric boys found her was by her blonde hair. At first, they stood a ways away, watching her. Their own loss heavy in their chests. Children didn’t deserve this empty feeling. What were they supposed to say to her quiet wails of loss? At least their mother’s death was expected. They knew it was coming. 

“Winry,” Ed called out, scratching his shaggy golden head. 

She didn’t react to him. It was as if she didn’t even hear him over her own sobs. 

Al stood back, frowning and rubbing his arm nervously. She was their best friend. Their body ached to see her so sad. 

“Winry,” Ed whispered again, taking a step closer. “Please don’t cry.” He reached out to her. 

“Go away,” she sobbed. “Leave me alone.” 

“We don’t want to,” Al answered. He walked up and sat on her left side. “We want to be with you. We care about you.” 

Ed nodded as he sat on her right side. “We know how you feel,” he tried to console. “We don’t want you to be alone.” 

She buried her head deeper and cried out. “I just want my mom! Why? Why did she have to die?” She sobbed, tears rushing down her cheeks to drip from her chin. 

Ed and Al looked at each other. There was never an answer to why. They had been asking themselves that for years now. They felt robbed of her love, her care, her smile…. 

“We know,” Al sniffed as he started to tear up. “We know.” 

Ed pulled his knees close to his chest as he picked up a rock in the grass and threw it in the water. “Mom made the best chocolate chip cookies,” he muttered. “She’d always add an extra handful of chocolate chips when she made them.” 

Al nodded. “And she’d kiss us goodnight,” he whimpered. “I always liked it when she’d read to us after dinner.” 

Ed nodded. “Or when she smiled when we made her something…” 

Winry looked up with her puffy red eyes and looked at Ed. He wasn’t crying. He was resisting the best he could. He was the oldest out of all of them, and she could see how much he hurt through his golden eyes, but he wouldn’t cry. He had to stay strong for all of them. 

“We want our mom too,” Alphonse cried loudly. 

Winry wiped her nose, tears still falling. “Why did they have to die?”

Ed shrugged. “Some answers are unanswered,” he whispered roughly. “I can’t find an equivalent exchange for this. I don’t have an answer.” 

Winry put her chin on her arms which laid next to each other on her knees. “My mom would sing while she tended the garden or cooked.” She sniffled a light laugh. “And she’d always warm me some milk before bed.” 

Ed scrunched his nose but didn’t argue his preference in drinks. “She would run her hands through my hair…”

“Yeah” Al quickly agreed. “Or when we were sick, she’d rub our backs and give us apple juice.” 

“I just want to hug her again,” Winry choked out before succumbing to more tears. When I was feeling sad, she’d give me such a hug and tell me it was going to be okay. Now she’s not here to tell me it’s going to be okay!”

Ed scooted closer to her, putting his arm around her. “Winry,” he said, trying to clear the mucus building in his throat. “I hope it’s going to be okay…” He rubbed his nose before flicking some dirt off his shorts. 

Al leaned against her, crying just as heavily. “Brother, I want it to be okay too.” 

He sighed loudly, looking up at the blue sky. “Grandma Pinako will make it okay,” he whispered. “She makes a great stew. And her homemade bread is amazing.” He grinned as he looked at the two crying. “And when she kisses my boo-boos it makes them feel better. Mom used to do that. Pinako is good at it too.” 

Al sniffed loudly, wiping a large goober from his nose. “She does let us come over during thunderstorms.” 

Ed nodded. “We can’t forget when she helped us catch those worms to go fishing with!” 

Winry smiled. Her sleeve was covered in tears as she wiped them again. “She always kisses me goodnight, like mom and dad did…” 

Ed nodded slowly. “It’s not exactly like mom, but I suppose she will do.” 

“Brother!”

“Thank you,” he heard her mutter. Ed nodded, still holding back his tears as he looked into the canal. He picked up another rock and threw it in the water. The sound of tears and sniffles slowly dried up. Before too long, Ed stood up, wiping the dust off his shorts. He turned around, looking back towards the Rockbell house. 

“Grandma is fixing chicken and dumplings,” she whispered, getting up and curling her hair behind her ear. “I’m sure she’d love to have you over.” 

Al grinned, wiping his nose once more. “No one can make chicken and dumplings like Grandma Pinako.”