#alarm clocks and Sophia are the same

[fazcinatingblog]

Who will get there first: Pendles reaching 10,000 disposals or Todd Michael Goldstein reaching 10,000 hitouts

#aflm #Essendon are trying to copy us #we're saying only 4 disposals to go and Essendon obviously looked up the stats and saw Todd is 26 away from 10k #this is unfair #also why isn't Draco Malfoy playing??? THIS IS HIS DAY #he dyed his hair blond for nothing #embarrassing #also i can't sleep because i feel bad i shouldn't have looked at Tony's timesheet sure they told me to but #i shouldn't have been so loud about it as well #i just #I'm an idiot #ok gonna go back to sleep #i think my alarm is still set to go off at 7 #why don't alarms understand public holidays?????? #alarms are sentient but they're just assholes #they're like 'hm it's anzac day maybe we'll let her sleep today--- GET UP LOSER!!!' #it's really mean #alarm clocks and Sophia are the same #like you know that deep down they care and they don't want to yell but they feel they have to #it's fair enough #otherwise I'll just spend the entire day sending out tax returns and filing and #i need her to yell at me re: terms of engagement letters and to do an interim invoice for $8000 because she doesn't have money for wages and #do normal bosses say that #i can't remember other bosses I've had but i don't think any specifically told me every week that they need money for the wages #like it's lying too because she always pays us so why say it???? #make us feel guilty about being paid #as if we should be working for free????

[faithshouseofchaos]

Jenson’s revenge— werewolf!Kimi Raikkonen x reader ft Jenson button

Tagged— @wolfsbanesbite @moss-on-tmblr @vivwritesfics @norrisleclercf1 @toasttt11 @alwayzbeenale @ashy-kit @astraeaworld @badassturtle13 @crashingwavesofeuphoria @dark-night-sky-99 @dudenhaaa27 @ironcowboycopnickel @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @charlesf1leclerc @hollie911 @vellicora @venusisnothere @yours-sophia-1988

Rolling over in bed you turned off your alarm clock. It was 7 am which meant you had an hour to get breakfast made and the girls up and ready for school.

Getting out of bed you walked over to Kimi’s side over the bed giving him a little shake.

“Kimi baby wake you,” you said, shaking him.

“What is it?” He asked.

“It’s Helena's first day of second grade and Alina’s first day of school,” you said smiling.

“No, it can’t be I refuse to believe that,” Kimi says wide awake now.

“I hate to break it to you but the girls are getting older.”

“At least we still have Ryker”

“The girls aren’t going anywhere anytime soon baby it’s just school”

“It’s always just school then it’s college then marriage then the girls leaving for good” Kimi grumbled.

“Ok sourwolf, why don’t you get the girls ready for school while I go pee and make breakfast?” you said kissing Kimi on the lips.

While you were in the bathroom doing your thing you heard Kimi say “What the fuck!”.

Oh no, you thought to yourself as you washed your hands and walked out into your living room where you found a tall blonde passed out on your couch. Not your blonde. It was your friend's drunk werewolf boyfriend Jenson Button.

“What is Jenson Button doing passed out on our couch?” You asked.

“I don’t know but this is going to mess up the sleepovers”

“The same ones that you claim to hate?”

“I..do..hate them,” Kimi says lying.

“Sure you do”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing I got this can you get the girls,” you said pointing to the hot mess sleeping on your couch.

“Yeah I’ll get the girls,” Kimi says walking away.

“Jenson…Jenson wake up” you say lightly smacking him on the cheek.

“Jenson!” You yelled in the man’s ear.

Jerking awake Jenson looked around before looking at you.

“Oh Mamma Raikkonen what can I do for you,” Jenson says

“You can start by telling me how and why you’re in my living room”

“Revenge Mamma sweet sweet revenge”

“Ok… but how did you get inside?”

“Through the doggie door”

“Ok Jenson, does your wife know you’re here?”

“No she doesn't, can you call her for me I lost my phone?”

“Yeah I’ll call her,” you said walking to the kitchen to get started on breakfast.

Once you had coffee brewing and breakfast cooking you pulled out your phone and called Jensen's wife who picked up on the second ring.

EB— I’m assuming you’re calling me because of my husband?

You— *gasp* how’d you know?

EB— because he mumbled something about revenge before he left last night and I assumed he was headed to your place.

You— yeah that big oaf is here

EB— ok I’ll come to get him

You— see you soon.

Hanging up that phone you sighed, making three cups of coffee, one for you, Kimi, and Jenson.

“Uncle Jenson!” You hear both of your daughters yell out excitedly tackling their uncle.

“Oh look at how you two were, are you going this fine morning?”

“School!” Both of your girls say.

“School no way,” Jenson says, entertaining the girls.

“Yes way”

“Girls breakfast is ready!” you yelled out.

“Where’s your dad?” You asked the girls setting their plates down in front of them.

“Honey!” You yelled

“I’m right here Kukka,” Kimi says walking into the kitchen holding Ryker.

“Alright I’ll take him, you deal with your friend,” you said, taking your son out of Kim's arms.

“Oh and you’re taking the girls to school” you call out to Kimi.

“I know”

——-

“You're ridiculous you know that,” you said from your spot on the couch.

“I’m not ridiculous,” Jenson says offended like

“You broke into my house to get revenge for the same thing Kimi did to you years ago”

“I’m still trying to figure out how he did it”

“We all are,” you said as someone knocked on your front door.

“That would be your wife,” you said, getting up from the couch, and passing Ryker over to Jenson.

“Where is he?” Eve asked, walking inside.

“He’s in the living room,” you said, closing the door and walking behind her.

“What the hell Jenson!”

“Ooo yikes good luck Jenson,” you said, taking my son back.

“Ground his ass” you whispered into her ear.

“Come on Ryker uncle Jenson is in the dog house for worrying his auntie Eve” you said to your son.

“I'm sorry” Jenson says “and you’re making this worse” Jenson says pointing at you.

“I’m her friend it’s my job to make things worse for you”

#kimi raikkonen x reader #kimi räikkönen x reader #iceman kimi raikkonen #kimi raikkonen image #kimi raikkonen one shot #kimi räikkonën #i love kimi raikkonen #kimi raikkonen fluff #kimi räikkönen fluff #kimi raikkonen x fem!reader #kimi raikkonen #kimi räikkönen

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 151

This chapter has been one that I have been dying to write for a while. I was worried that @baelpenrose would resist the idea, but he very much thought it was hilarious. As always, his input and riffing on this chapter has very much made it better and better.

However, it also made the chapter longer, lol. But there is just no way to trim it down without losing something that makes it all work, so this week is nearly double my normal length... break everyone’s heart, right? ;)

“I don’t like these numbers,” Parvati grumbled - as much as she was capable of grumbling - as she scrolled through the final counts of approval ratings on her and Hannah’s inaugural Food Festival.

The statistics had been dropped into our inboxes that morning, in the static of about a thousand other notifications now that Derek had finished the stress-test. Also included were the results of the last three invasion-prep drills, which I was in the process of scanning over.

“How bad are they?” I asked, half listening for a number. The drills were trending better, which was a good sign that the moves were effective.

Dismissing her display with a gesture of disgust, she sighed. “Seventy-four percent approval rating.”

I arched a brow and glanced over. “Did you adjust for those who did not attend?”

The glare she sent me wasn’t seen so much as felt. “Of course I did. First thing I ran…”

“Are you filtering by the day the comments came in?”

“I -” Bingo. She huffed. “No! These are intended to be ratings for the entirety of the event!”

I started scrolling through my own statistics. “Chart them out by the date the ratings came in, filtering out everyone who didn’t actually attend.”

A pause. “Oh… Oh! It’s showing ninety-three-point-four now!”

“Et voila,” I murmured. Louder, I clarified, “People like to weigh in early, and those who object in general tend to speak first.”

“I see that… how’s it going over there?” she asked, smoothing her braid over her shoulder as she turned to look at me directly.

“We are improving with every drill, marked upticks since the relocations. Arthur should be here in about - “ I glanced at a clock, “Seven minutes to go over next steps.”

Alistair breezed over to swap my empty bulb of cold coffee for a fresh one of water. “The appointment is in fifteen minutes.”

Parvati beat me to the punch.  “He is also compulsively early, meaning…. Six minutes now.”

He rolled his eyes hard enough that I wanted to giggle. “He doesn’t even have the decency to be fashionably late. Appalling.”

Surely enough, Arthur paged at the entrance - out of some sort of manners I accidentally instilled in him - exactly five minutes prior to our scheduled appointment. As he breezed into my office, he managed a half-assed glare at Alistair for abruptly turning away and focusing on my schedule rather than his usual tendency to get a beverage for any newcomers. “Okay, updated data on drills isn’t what I want it to be.”

I laughed. “You’re joking, right? Your team and Michael’s haven’t gotten past deck four by more than three percent in the last seven exercises.”

“Any percent above zero is unacceptable,” he grumbled. I chalked it up to the indignity of being forced to get his own tea from the console.

Almost as though to spite Arthur, Alistair made a point to set a refreshed water bulb in front of everyone except the professor. “There are guards on the other levels for a reason,” he suggested drily.

“And I would rather those guards be idle, thank you,” Arthur threw back in a near-venomous tone.

“Us guards would rather be prepared for any eventuality, which you may do well to plan for in your petty drills.”

I didn’t even try to intervene. Clearly there was some blatantly disagreement between my  admin and my friend, and I was exhausted from trying to make them cooperate.

“If I’m doing my job, you should be so grateful as to be idle,” Arthur drawled.

Alistair scoffed. “As if being left to rest and get fatter than a Christmas goose is a blessing…”

“You’ll live longer!”

“And get lax in my duties, which I will not stand for!”

“Get fat! Get lazy! LIVE! I don’t care! I’m not going to be lax in my duties to allow you the opportunity of getting practice at fighting.” Standing, Arthur buried both hands in his hair, but it looked less like he was running his fingers through it than pulling on it. “Are we really discussing this when we are training to fight in living body condoms?”

“I need to defend the Archives!”

“And Michael and I need to defend everyone! Us doing our job means you don’t need to do yours.”

My neck snapped back at the vehemence in his tone. This wasn’t their normal sparring… they may have never truly gotten along, but even in the beginning it was never so vicious.

To my further alarm, Alistair took a long stride forward and stared down his nose at Arthur. “We both know that she - “ his hand flung out to point at me “is either the luckiest or unluckiest person in existence. You can’t really believe that, in an actual assault on this ship, that she won’t be in danger. Which will place Tyche, the Archives, Derek Okafor, and Samuel Richardson in equal danger. You aren’t an idiot, you know this.” The hand pointing toward me turned, and time seemed to slow down as he stabbed Arthur in the sternum with it, punctuating each of his next words. “Stop lying to yourself.”

“Poke me again, and the finger comes off.”

“I would dearly love to see you try.”

Hannah and Parvati had jumped to their feet when Alistair approached Arthur, but were now slowly moving around to my position, safely behind my desk. Hannah hissed at me through clenched teeth, “You had to tell them to fight it out.”

“I thought they would use a gym, not the damned office,” I hissed back.

Before she could respond, Alistair spoke again. “You aren’t the only one on the Ark who wants to protect everyone. You need to trust us to do our bloody jobs.”

“The last time I trusted anyone else to protect people, I lost fourteen students,” came the ground out response. “I’m not backing down on this.”

“You will, or I will sedate you and strap you to a medical berth for the next four months.” Alistair stepped back and crossed his arms with finality.

A trickle of nerves ran down my spine as I watched Arthur clench his fists and release them. “You think the solution to everything is to tie it up, I swear.”

“Stop changing the topic. I am deadly serious, Farro.”

Arthur turned away from him, waving him off. “Try something else, you would never just sedate me for months on end.” Before we could stop anything, Alistair leapt forward and put Arthur in a headlock, only to be immediately flipped over the other man’s shoulder and onto the table. “Tch. Sloppy. I know you can do better.”

“I thought you wanted me to get fat and lazy,” Alistair grunted as he sucker-punched Arthur in the stomach and rolled for the other side.  Once on his feet, he eyed Arthur carefully as he circled the table. “You stubborn ass, you know I am right.  You are putting everyone in the lower levels at risk by not running preparedness drills with them, because you don’t want to factor in the fact that one of the offensive teams could fail.”

“We don’t have the luxury of failing, so no. If we do our jobs correctly, everyone who matters will be safe at the other end of the Ark.”

They didn’t seem to be at each other’s throats anymore, but the arguing wasn’t getting anywhere. “Guys - “ I tried.

Both men turned and practically screamed at me with their glares to stop talking.  Oookay. I held up my hands in surrender and decided to let them sort it out their way.

Damned if the console wasn’t on the other side of them, though. I couldn’t even get popcorn and a drink.

Alistair blew a harsh breath through his nose. “If you won’t include the lower decks in your drills, I will start sparring with Jokul.”

“He would kill you,” Arthur barked in the most miserable laugh I’ve ever heard.

“God forbid,” Alistair mocked. “If I were gone, who would make your tea in the morning.”

“The same person who picks up the socks that magically appear all over my quarters every day, obviously. Worthington, I’m serious, he could really hurt you. He has really hurt me. And Charly.”

That last part was dismissed with a wave. “Madam Charles the First put the fear of herself into him.”

“And you haven’t. He could kill you by accident, and he’d never forgive himself.”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be the case if you would let me train more!”

Arthur groaned and ran a hand down his face. “You are an adult, we’ve talked about this. Train all you want, with whoever you want - Charly, Sophia, Tyche… hell, train with Evan or Michael, I don’t care. Just, not Jokul.”

When did they talk about this? I wondered. It had to be during a sparring session or something, because it definitely wasn’t in my office during one of our meetings. A glance at Hannah showed she was watching everything unfold like it was the most riveting show she had ever seen, and Parvati’s squint of consideration wasn’t much better.

“As you said, I’m an adult. Perhaps I should take your advice, and train with Charly - “

“See - “

“- and Jokul. She will make sure I don’t get hurt.”

Arthur flung his hands up in frustration. “You are so stubborn, I swear!” Growling, he paced in a circle. “Fine! Train with Charly and Jokul. IN the bivouac suit, though! And I don’t want to hear a word when you end up confined in a med bay yourself.”

Alistair’s smug grin showed just how much he seemed to care. “At least I would be spared of picking up the trail of dishes that seem to follow you around.”

“For the love of - they are my quarters! Mine! And I don’t want to hear about it when your bloody socks are constantly getting lost behind my sofa!”

Oh. Oh no. Nonononononono.

“My socks can go wherever they fucking want to, when I am constantly cleaning your disgusting whiskers out of the sink!”

“You know what would fix you having to clean whiskers out of the sink? I could just stop shaving altogether. How about...that…” Arthur trailed off and very slowly turned toward the three of us behind my desk with a look of dawning horror.

And I tried. I really, really tried not to laugh.  I could feel my face reddening, my chest aching with the effort of holding it in.  

Hannah’s snort was my undoing. As soon as that tiny noise escaped her, all three of us erupted into hysterical, stomach-cramping, tearful laughter.  I felt stabbing in my arm as Parvati dug her nails in, trying desperately not to fall.  Unfortunately for her, Hannah grabbed me at the same time and all three of us toppled to the floor. The sight of Arthur rolling his eyes and crossing his arms only made me escalate from laughing to shrieking in hysterics and relief.

I couldn’t speak for the other two ladies, but I thought the two men were going to end up killing each other… At no point did I think they took the other option when I told them to either fight it out or….

I gasped for breath, trying to get myself under control. Wobbling to my feet with the help of my trusty desk and a couple yanks to free my shirt from Parvati’s desperate clutching, I pointed between them. “This… how long? Can’t believe… didn’t figure it out.”

“Not everyone is as… public… as you, Conor, and Maverick are,” Arthur snarked at me. “You know, private lives should be private and all that?”

“Must be for you,” I confided in Alistair’s direction, where he had turned his back to our fit.  “He’s never not told me when he was dating someone. Or thinking of dating someone. Or potentially interested in seeing if he was interested in dating someone… Best friend privileges and all that.”  While I waited for Alistair to respond, my mind whirled through all the things I had brushed off before but were very obvious in retrospect.

Glancing at Arthur for a hint yielded nothing but a flat stare that all but declared in flashing lights You Aren’t Stupid.

I tilted my head at that, and kept thinking. There had been genuine animosity on Alistair’s side in the beginning, and not a small amount of needling on Arthur’s.  So I knew it wasn’t something that had always been going on. My mind came to a screeching halt, however, when I remembered something - the day Alistair, Tyche, and I decided that, when I vacated my position on the Council, they would vacate roles as well to leave behind a ‘clean slate’. “Four years, holy shit,” I gasped. “Four years!?”

Finally, Alistair moved. His back was still to us, but his arms went limp by his sides, and his head dropped down toward the floor. “It would be unseemly to have the new Councilor of Education in a relationship with the attache to the Councilor for Resources and Engagement. Or formerly in a relationship, should things not end well.”

“And since he won’t be taking his position until we are on Von,” I put together, “You are okay to serve out the rest of my term, just not Hannah’s or Parvati’s.”

“Correct.”

“Huh. That makes sense,” I admitted before hopping up to sit on my desk, the chair being a lost cause on the other side of two women who were still sniffling and giggling on the floor. “I learned a lot today.”

“Uh huh,” Arthur confirmed drily. “And it had better stay in this office.”

“What?” I managed a pretty convincing confused face before pretending to realize what he meant. “Oh! The relationship thing. Yeah, cool, whatever. That’s not what I was talking about, but you’re good.”

“Dare I even ask what you meant?” Alistair ventured, finally turning around so that he could give me a warning look.

“Uh, isn’t it obvious?” I asked, shaking my head and spreading my hands, palms up. When they both just stared at me, I finally broke and grinned. “Dude. You two are freaking slobs.”

The squeaking noises coming from the vicinity of my feet told me that no further work would be getting done for the rest of the day.

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

[corie-the-writer]

Won’t Let Go - Chapter 5

  Jay had woken up several hours later to check on Sophia since he had not felt her move against him in quite sometime. He had looked to see that Sophia was still sound asleep cuddled against him laying mostly on her stomach. She had went to bed covered and now the large comforter was off her body, and he knew that she had to be hot due to the sunburn. He had stretched as gently as he could without disturbing her and then glanced to the alarm clock, seeing that it was going on two in the afternoon. They had been sleeping for the past six hours. Jay had decided to carefully let go of Sophia so he could get out of the bed and go to the bathroom. Once he had went to the restroom, he had checked the fridge to see if there was any aloe vera for her sunburn, and noticed there was none. Jay had decided to run to the corner store and pick up some food for them once Sophia had woke up. The detective was being as quiet as possible so he didn't wake her as he left. As he made his way down the stairs, he had decided to call in an order for pick up to a Mexican restaurant, as he headed to walk across the street to the local grocery store. Once he had found the aloe vera, he had decided to get stuff to make a breakfast for them in the morning, having every intention to spend the rest of the day and evening with Sophia. He had also decided to grab a couple junk food items for that night as well. Once he had grabbed everything he had needed, Jay headed to the check out and paid for everything. Jay quickly ran across the street and back into Sophia's apartment to quietly put everything away. He went to check on her once more before he headed back out to get the food he had ordered. Jay had drove a few blocks to get the food, then headed back to Sophia's apartment, and had changed back into his pair of sweatpants before attempting to wake the sleeping woman. "Soph..." Jay gently rubbed her bare leg, "Baby..." Jay continued to speak softly as she started to stir, "I went and got us some food. You need to eat. We've slept for most of the day." "Mmm...come back to bed." Sophia reached for his hand. Jay chuckled and shook his head, "Not yet. Gotta eat first." Jay stated causing Sophia to form a deep frown on her face, "I got Mexican food..." Jay taunted playfully watching as Sophia began to stir a little to sit up. "How dare you use food as an advantage." Sophia stretched her body as she sat up with her back resting against the headboard, "Where is this food you speak of?" Sophia questioned. "It's in the kitchen, come on, get that pretty butt up." Jay tugged on her hand and she groaned as she moved out of the bed. . . Sophia and Jay had posted up on the couch to eat their meals, and once they were done, Sophia had decided to start painting to get rid of the last few blank canvases she had laying around. Jay watched as Sophia had sat on the bar stool near the easle in nothing but his t-shirt painting away, and he had been mesmerized by her ability to concentrate. The detective had decided to look through the artwork that was behind different canvases leaning against the walls as Sophia painted away. The first piece of art he had came across that he had not seen before was a piano key laying across rocks, with a woman in a ballerina out fit dancing on a tree trunk that laid across the piano keys with the sky looking bright as ever behind the dancer. The second piece was a portrait of down town New Orleans shops, with people gathered around doing different things. When he had flipped to the third canvas, he had realized it wasn't a canvas, but an actual frame photo of Sophia. "What..." Jay questioned his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets, his jealousy rising up quickly. In the photo there was a dark haired man in a dark blue dress suit, with a white shirt unbuttoned, and Sophia had been in a black lace lingere set, on her knees, leaning across the dark haired man, her ass on full display with a man's hand on her butt, and her hand on his black belt, biting her bottom lip as she looked at the camera. Jay just couldn't see the face of the man in the photo due to Sophia's dark wildly long hair blocking it. "Did you say something?" Sophia questioned focusing on the painting in front of her. "Who is this?" Jay questioned causing Sophia to look over her shoulder to see that he was looking at a portrait that she had with Noah. "Oh god..." Sophia groaned putting her paint brush down and moving off the stool to approach Jay, "I haven't had time to get rid of it..." Sophia moved to take the framed photo but Jay had stopped her. "Soph, who is that?" Jay looked down to her with his jaw tensing. "That's just someone I met in New Orleans." Sophia explained vaguely, noticing that Jay was wanting more information, "He is a guy I hooked up with for a few months." "And why do you still have it?" Jay questioned and Sophia let out a chuckle, mumbling the word jealous under her breath, "I'm not jealous..." Jay practically growled. "I still have it because I had all of my art work shipped here when I moved back. I didn't stick around to see what they were shipping here, it had gotten mixed in with the other pieces. I hadn't figured out how to get rid of it yet. I wanted to do something symbolic with it." Sophia explained, wrapping her arms around his waist. Jay hesitated for a moment before wrapping his arms around her, and then pulling her close to him, "Sorry...I just...don't like the idea of another man touching you." Jay admitted carefully, "I know it's from the past, but to see it..." Jay shook his head. "I get it." Sophia stated, "I would be the same way." Jay lifted Sophia and she instantly wrapped her legs around his waist and he had carried her to the couch and sat down with her sitting on top of him. Jay brushed his fingers against her cheek as she looked down to him. "I think we should have that talk now..." Jay spoke licking his lips, and watched as Sophia began to toy with the hem of the shirt she was wearing, "I don't know what is happening between us, but I know that I want to be with you." Jay stated, "I don't want to be with anyone else, only you." Sophia's heart swelled, "I don't want to be with anyone else either..." "So can we make this official between us?" Jay questioned and watched as Sophia nodded her head, "You gotta get rid of that photo though..." Jay added playfully causing Sophia to grin and laugh. "Whatever you say Detective."

#jay halstead #detective jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead one shot #nbc chicago pd

[jodiereedus22]

Mirage

A/N: Here I am, posting! I don't even want to know how long its been since I posted anything, I am so sorry, motivati9on has been hard to com by. but I have a piece for you now! thank you @crossbowking for the amazing support and I want to thank @fxlminare she got me motivated to do this piece, she is amazing!!!! 

I hope you enjoy!!! <3

Word Count: 2165

You awoke suddenly to the sound of your alarm going off, you rubbed your tired eyes as you rolled over to switch it off.

You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling, for some reason you were confused, and you didn’t know why - maybe you had a dream last night and couldn't remember it.

You shrugged it off, turning your head to the side, seeing a soundly sleeping Daryl. His chest rising and falling gently, his hair draped over his face making his closed eyes hard to see, you smiled to yourself, the alarm clock had always been for you, Daryl could sleep through anything.

You gently got out of bed, putting on a robe and headed downstairs, you had a lot to get ready for today – but first, it was time to get breakfast started.

You started with the bacon, then some eggs, then got started on the pancake batter when you heard footsteps behind you and suddenly a pair of hands wrapped around your waist, placing kisses on your neck.

“Hmm, somethin’ smells good,” Daryl said in a sleepy gruff voice, you groaned as he kissed your neck some more, holding you more tightly.

“Why did I wake up to a cold bed?” Daryl asked, whispering in your ear as you tried to concentrate on cooking the breakfast.

“Well someone has to get up around here, or nothing would get done,” you joked, laughing as Daryl went over the top kissing you more.

“Eww, that’s gross!”

“Do you have to do that over breakfast?” Your son said as he and your daughter walk into the kitchen.

“Lucas, Mia, you want us to stop? Go set the table,” you bribed your kids as you laughed, and Daryl let go of you to help.

You finished cooking the breakfast and served it up. Sitting and eating, laughing with your family.

You took a moment to look at your families smiling faces, realising how lucky you were to have such a perfect family.

As everyone finished up their food you got to cleaning as everyone else went to go get ready, giving your children kisses as they headed up the stairs.

Daryl came down first, dressed in a blue button-down shirt that hugged his broad shoulders, black jeans and nice black shoes.

“Looking good Mr Dixon,” you admired, your eyes travelling up and down his body as you bit your lip in approval.

Even after all his time and 2 children together, Daryl getting embarrassed was always the sweetest and endearing thing, as he looked at you with a blush upon his cheeks.

You walked up to him and kissed him on the cheek.

“I'm gonna get ready. Will you get everything into the car? Everything is in the fridge.”

Just then Mia and Lucas came bounding down the stairs.

“Well look at you both, all dressed up and clean,” you smiled walking up to them, placing a kiss on both their foreheads.

“Can you both help daddy put everything in the car while mummy gets ready please?” you asked as they got to helping Daryl load the car.

You headed to your room to get ready, you put on a simple floral dress that landed just above your knees, you put on some flat sandals knowing you were going to have to play with the kids at some point. You put on some simple light makeup, knowing anymore would make you melt in the Georgian heat.

Coming down the stairs you could see the hustle and bustle of everyone getting everything in the car, popping in and out of the house, picking up random items to pack into the car when Daryl stopped dead in his tracks, staring directly at you.

Daryl stood there in silence, in awe at your beauty as a blush came across your cheeks at the look in his eyes.

“You look pretty mommy,” Mia exclaimed coming up to you, wrapping her arms around your middle giving you a nice big hug.

“Thank you sweetheart,” you thanked her, hugging her back and leaning down to place a kiss on the top of her head.

“You really do Mrs Dixon,” Daryl walked towards you, the same look of awe in his eyes as he took you into his arms. You placed your arms around his neck, your hands playing with the hair on the nape of his neck, smiling and staring back into his beautiful Georgian blue eyes.

“Oh really?” you teased.

“Really,” Daryl leaned down and captured your lips with his, closing your eyes, getting lost in his kiss, Daryl’s kisses, no matter the reason for them, were always perfect, they were a balm for your soul.

You got interrupted by Lucas making disgusted noises behind you.

You and Daryl looked at each other with smirks on your faces, finding your sons embarrassment amusing.

“Alright. Come on. Let’s get going?” you called out to everyone as you call clambered into the car.

The journey was short, sharing laughs and admiring the countryside, you were there in no time.

As soon as you stopped the kids jumped out of the car, heading to the garden where they could hear the other kids having fun, as you went to the trunk to grab all the food to take inside.

“Here, take this, give it to Rick,” you handed him a bottle of wine, knowing he was eager to see his best friend.

He took the bottle of wine, placing a kiss on your cheek as he made his way into the party.

You and Daryl had been friends with Rick Grimes for a very long time, and every year he hosted a BBQ for everyone with his wife Lori who was now pregnant, and their son Carl.

Carol always came with her daughter Sophia. Maggie and Glenn came with Maggie’s sister Beth and their father Hershel. T-Dog and Andrea also joined.

Everyone had a great time at these, everyone brought food and drink, some brought things for the kids to play with, it was a great catch-up session for adults and a fun time for the kids.

You made multiple trips from the car to the kitchen until everything you brought was set up. you then made your way outside to greet with everyone, finding Daryl with Rick you walked over to join them.

Standing next to Daryl he placed an arm around your waist as you looked around the party seeing your kids playing with Carl and Sophia, being so close in age, it was always lovely to see them having such fun together.

You did your rounds, catching up with everyone, having a laugh, sharing food, drinks and stories, enjoying yourself.

You thought to yourself how lucky you were to have such an amazing family in Daryl and your kids, but also an amazing extended family in everyone else who was at the party.

With the party in full swing, you went inside the house to grab some more food, looking out the window onto the beautiful fields and trees that surrounded Ricks house, when you saw a figure from afar, he was walking funny, like he was drunk. It filled you with a sense of dread, but you had no idea why when gunfire in the house drew your attention in panic.

Running in the house, you saw all the kids sitting on the couch.

“What are you doing? You asked, slightly panicked.

“Watching a movie,” Carl answered. You looked at the tv to see them watching some kind of zombie movie with guns going off every minute.

“Come on guys, its summer, go out and play,” you said with a sigh of relief, your dread dissipating slightly.

“You can watch it another day,” you said as you walked up the tv set and turned it off, herding the kids back outside to play.

But that man outside, stumbling around, still set you on edge.

You went back to the window to see where he was, but he was nowhere to be found, it's like he had just vanished in thin air, considering the space around Ricks house is fairly open.

You took a minute to pause, taking in a breath, you decided to shake it off and go back into the party and enjoy yourself.

So, you tried to do just that, you carried on your afternoon with everyone but in the back of your mind there was still this creeping feeling, it felt like you were being buried alive, the weight slowly getting heavier on your chest.

You tried to concentrate on the here and now and what was happening around you, knowing there was no rational reason for you to be feeling this way when Daryl calling your name pulled you out of your thoughts.

You turned your head from the group of people you had spaced out on, having a glance around the party trying to pinpoint Daryl, when you saw him talking to Carol.

You broke away from your little group and headed in Daryl's direction.

“Did you call me?” you asked Daryl as you reached him and Carol.

“No, why?” Daryl answered, causing you to furrow your brow.

“Ya a’right?” Daryl asked placing a hand on your arm in a gentle, loving way.

“Yh, I'm just … I’m,” you stuttered not knowing what to say, confused at the chain of events, confused at your feelings.

You started walking backwards away from Daryl when a wave of heat came over you, starting to make you panic.

You turned away from everyone for a minute, trying to catch your breath.

When you turned back around everyone was staring at you. Everyone was silent, no one said anything as they stood motionless, staring without blinking in a disturbing manner.

You then realised they weren’t wearing the same clothes, they were dirty, covered in blood, holding weapons. Rick looked as though he had a colt python, glancing over at Daryl as he held a crossbow.

The more you looked the more familiar it felt, but it still didn’t make any sense. It didn’t fit.

You tried to blink away the feeling, taking a second to close your eyes, steading yourself, but when you opened your eyes it was like nothing has happened and just like that the party went on, all back in their own clothes, no weapons in sight.

The confusion sent you dizzy, the colour drained from your face. What was happening?

“(Y/N) … (Y/N),” you heard Daryl calling out your name, but as you looked over to him, his lips weren’t moving.

“(Y/N), (Y/N)! Wake up!” you heard Daryl again when a huge wave of dizziness came over you as you stumbled backwards.

Your body started falling to the floor, but you never felt yourself meet the floor instead you found yourself sitting up, gasping for breath in a bed that you recognised and a face you recognised as Daryl's, but you weren’t in a lovely clean, bright house.

You were in the prison, you remember now, everything came flooding back. You had gotten ill; you must have fallen unconscious.

“Hey, hey, you’re back, you’re okay,” Daryl reassured you, placing a gentle hand on your cheek.

“Yh, I'm fine, it’s just, I had the weirdest dream,” you told Daryl.

Even though you were still alive, and Daryl was right by your side, you couldn’t help the feeling of disappointment that your dream wasn’t real. Remembering the world how it was now, the dead rising, the hunger, the death, you would have given anything for your dream to be real.

Daryl climbed in bed with you as you told him all about your dream in as much detail as you remembered.

“Two kids huh?” Daryl asked, raising an eyebrow with a grin.

“Yh, Mia and Lucas. It’s so weird to talk about them, they’re not real, they don’t exist. But they felt so real,” you said with sadness in your voice.

“Hey,” Daryl got your attention, placing a finger on your chin to turn you towards him.

“Just because it ain’t real now, don’t mean it won’t be one day,” Daryl revealed, making you smile.

“You think so?”

“Yh, in the future, maybe we’ll find a better place than this. It could happen,” Daryl revealed.

This was a complete surprise to you. You knew Daryl's past, you knew his childhood, children were something you thought Daryl would never be able to bring himself to have - out of fear he’d turn into his father.

“You want kids?” you asked surprised.

“I didn’t’ think I did, ‘til I met ya,” Daryl confessed.

“I love you so much Daryl,” you told him, snuggling deeper into him, enjoying his warmth, his scent.

“I love ya too (Y/N),” Daryl reciprocated, holding you tight in his arms, placing a kiss on the top of your head as you both drifted into a peaceful deep sleep, both dreaming of the future you hoped one day you could both have together.

 Taglist: @fxlminare @crossbowking @viraloutbreakcontrol @coffee-obsessed-writer @bluesfortheredj @shutupimtryin2write @fearthewalkingbitch @selenedixon @cbarter @cole-winchester@alyisdead @hopplessdreamer @infinitewcr @blogsporadicartist @mtngirlforever @sassi-luna  @twdsunshine @momc95 @emo-potato-virgil @sourwolf-sterek32 @tatertot1097 @wilhelmjfink @coffeebooksandfandom @twdeadfanfic @cutiepiemimi13 @kickin-with-dixon @feartheendlesssummer @twdeadlysins @apocalypse-haven @baseballbitch116 @trashcanband4 @mblaqgi @addiction-survivor25 @mel-2a @spaghettyrogers @xxboesefrauxx  @sapphire1727 @little-miss-mischief1 @wontlookaway @bunnymother93 @auntiebyn @saintsisterwriter @theunofficialduke @lilo-1988 @imaginecrushes 

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixon #the walking dead fanfiction #The Walking Dead #DarylDixon #daryl dixon fanfic #twd daryl #walking dead fanfiction #fluff #fluffy #angst #fanfic #twd #twdfanfiction #twd daryl dixon

[travellvogue]

“Mummy! Daddy! Santa came!”- Trent Alexander-Arnold

12 Days of Christmas- Day 12:

You weren’t even shocked that the digital alarm clock at the side of your bed shone a bright, red, 5:34am into the room. When you have three kids under the age of five this was always bound to happen, it was Christmas day after all. 

Your little boy came bounding into the room, clutching his favourite toy- a bunny you’d given him the day he was born that had now, quite frankly, seen better days. His mini dressing gown tied messily around his waist and his curls sticking up in every direction. In that moment he was the epitome of cute. Skipping with excitement and climbing onto the edge of your bed, a chubby finger poked the two of you awake. Trent groans at the early rise, it was still dark outside, the fog still dancing around the grass of the garden, a stray dog toy that had been left out there now damp with the morning dew. He’d never been an early risen, ever since the two of you first met, remembering how he’d groan at you to come back to bed when you woke up at eight o’clock on a Sunday. But you could think of worse ways to wake up right now, to see your little Cairo beyond excited for Christmas made the 5am wake up worth it. 

“Hi buddy” Trent yawns, letting him sit in the bend between his groin and knees, stroking his fingers through his messy curls- just like you did to him. “Where’s ya brother?” he asks lazily, mid-yawn, admittedly it’d be great if Jackson was still in bed, at least then Trent could stay in the warmth of the covers for a little longer. 

“Mummy! Daddy! Santa came!” Trent’s question is answered by an excitable squeal from your middle child, at the age of three he hadn’t learnt that the kids would open their stockings on your bed and then head downstairs for the grand reveal of their main presents once the room was covered in small bits of wrapping paper and foil from the chocolate coins already devoured.

“He’s not meant to be down there!” you hiss at Trent who nervously holds his hands up, not wanting to take the blame for your curious toddler. 

The two of you had been up until two in the morning setting up all the presents, laying glitter around T’s feet so you could tell the kids they were Santa’s footsteps, fake snow dusted around every surface it could hold to. Even trying to hold in a giggle when Trent gagged dramatically as he took a bite of the mince pie, only the run to the bin and spit it out. ‘The things I do for these kids’ he’d mumbled under his breath, leaving the other half of the pie and the half chewed carrots on the plate by the fireplace. 

Luckily, Sophia was too young to walk yet, so there was only one kid to scoop up off the staircase. “You’ve been good all year, don’t start being naughty now mister” you tickle Jackson’s belly, his pyjama top wet around the collar from his habit of chewing it during the night. Stroking his chubby cheeks whilst carrying him back upstairs and heading into the nursery where your little girl had woken from the commotion of her brothers. Her hands desperately gripping at the sides of her cot to help her legs support her own weight. 

Watching her coo at you, bouncing her bum at the exciting sight of mummy made you wonder if having another baby would be the perfect finish to your family. They just seem to grow up so fast.

Stockings were quickly ripped open, a pile of wrapping paper rapidly amounting in the corner of your bedroom. A choir of ‘thank you mumma, thank you dadda’ from your two boys, their wide smiles warming your heart as they compare colouring books, sparkly pens, and toy trains. Soph was still too young to understand what was going on, but despite that she was still having fun sitting on Trent’s lap ripping at the leftover wrapping paper whilst he tried to explain the pair of tiny bunny slippers he’d opened for her.

Still, she doesn’t grasp the idea of unwrapping her presents, even when you’re downstairs and Trent tries to tempt her to peel a corner off the box for her toy pram for her dolls. Instead a loud giggle or a blubbered ‘dadda’ does the job instead. Cairo and Jackson, were quick to help her with the unwrapping whilst she watched on, completely bewildered by the concept. Luckily the boys had a far more animated response, screaming the house down when they noticed Rudolph had enjoyed the carrots they left out… if only they knew. 

It’s safe to say the wooden train track was by far the boy’s favourite gift, a track set up across the floor of the living room, snacking into the hallway and threatening to spill into the kitchen. The noises and animations coming from them making you giggle continuously. Soph was sat at Trent’s feet, the dogs sniffing at the Sylvanian Families in her hand, taking keen interest in the mummy rabbit one. Despite being a clean freak, the mess of the living room didn’t bother you one bit, in fact it added to the atmosphere, everything was a bit chaotic and hectic- but when was it not in the Alexander-Arnold household with three kids running riot?

“Merry Christmas, baby” you whisper to Trent, resting your head on his shoulder and watching your boys try an attempt to put a train in Sophia’s hand and onto the wooden train track, so far it wasn’t going very well, instead the Sylvanian Families resting on top of the wooden trains was a far better idea according to Soph.

“Merry Christmas sweetheart, I’m so lucky” he says gently, rubbing his hand on your thigh, watching the kids with the same admiration as you did. “Y’know..” he hums, “Three’s an odd number, I think four sounds much better” you let out a breathy chuckle against his shoulder, gently fiddling with the gold band of his wedding ring. 

“I think so too” you smile. 

tags: @footballdaydream @footballerimaginess @prettylittletrent @evie-pr @hnrfc

#trent alexander arnold imagines #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold one shot #trent alexander arnold blurb #daddy trent #12 days of christmas #liverpool fc

[brideylee]

Chateau Quarantine

                 Sophia Coppola smokes a cigarette while she waits for an omelette she has no intention of eating.  It’s a gloomy marine layered morning, you can barely see across Sunset. She’s been in lock down for three weeks and while she normally loves the moody, brooding decadence of the Chateau Marmont, its elite solitude is giving her a bit too much time to reflect. She thinks about the concept of crying as she watches a long torso-ed model skinny dip in the pool from the penthouse. There are no rules anymore, not that there were many in the first place. The hotel was shuttered to the public as of three weeks ago, and those who were already there could stay indefinitely. Sophia lives alone in the tower suite with the three bedrooms and the wrap around porch, known by some as “the Deniro”, but Robert himself couldn’t tell you why. Any legends or gossip about the Chateau were just bread crumbs to keep the public hungry and mystified. The real Chateau for the privileged few who used it, was an unceremonious respite for excessive loneliness, addiction, and often not great sex. The Chateau had a reputation: look but don’t fuck. Everyone’s genitals were rendered useless from anti-depressants.

               She thought she would be filming by now. Her cast is stranded too, with little guidance other than “we’ll wait it out.” The film she wanted to make stars Hugh Grant and Ewan McGregor as two estranged brothers coming together for their father’s funeral. Iman was set to the play the mysterious woman who shows up at the funeral who they then realize was their father’s mistress. It was going to be a slow movie about the brothers coming to terms with their father’s death and equally so falling in love with the woman he hid from them. All this would be suggested through intimate long takes, and funny, stylish, improvised montages. Always subtle and romantic without the sap, this was the tight rope Sophia liked to balance on.  At the end of the movie, both brothers are mildly changed, but not entirely. She has a sweet spot for the immovability of people’s psyches, particularly men. 

Sophia watches impartially, as the naked model floats on her back in the calm pool. It is so cold and early to swim, is she on drugs or is everyone at this place even more numb than they think? She wondered if her film was too male, too disembodied from her personally to mean anything.  Tapping into the male gaze, was an ability she was born with. Her father’s point of view was all she interacted with as a kid, and the underside of his specialties became her focus: the lost parts of men when they are too weak to hold up the heavy crown of their egos, who they were when they could let themselves feel outside of their work. But given the state of the world, and the molasses nature of time during lock down, Sophia started to question if what she always found to be her strength was just simply trauma. Was her whole profession a way to resolve some genetic creative stifling that took place in the shadow of her dad? Surely her body of work contains more than that. It’s not all a selfish attempt at repair. Is any art not selfish? "Maybe I should make a different movie, something that everyones gonna like for once.” She thinks to herself.  Thank God, her goat cheese omelette has arrived.

             Later on, the gothic lobby is empty besides the cast of her film and the elegant model behind the reception desk standing like a hollow sculpture, frightened by the chaos that lurks outside. Ewan McGregor, drunk off of five Marmont Mules, is showing Hugh Grant an app that maps the stars and constellations. Ewan has gone on and on about a camping trip he took around Scotland and how amazing the stars were, but when pressed for details about where exactly he was or what he saw or what year he did this, he can’t seem to remember anything at all.But that doesn’t dampen his excitement about the app. “See, that, there is Orion’s belt!” Ewan enthusiastically points out, his cute smirk displaying his bottom row of sweet corn kernel teeth. Ewan just recently learned about the stars. Until the age of 47, Ewan had been referring to them as “night freckles.” Many think this is why he didn’t have a fun time acting in  Star Wars, space simply befuddled him. Hugh and Ewan are dressed exactly the same: navy blue beanie, black jeans, a tight blue thermal, and desert boots- the actor man uniform they give you after you play opposite Nicole Kidman or Renee Zellweger.

“That’s brilliant,” says Hugh Grant completely perplexed by the app and confused at Ewan’s rambling. Hugh sticks a handkerchief up his nostril with his pointer finger and wiggles it around somewhat violently. Iman clocks this with a blink of disgust, her silk, gold blouse  glistens with god-like royalty in the amber glow.  “Can you turn your face away? That’s how the virus is spreading.” Her voice is deep and she rarely uses it because it changes the direction of the wind and messes with the tides.  “Aw, fuck me. That’s right, isn’t it?” Hugh Grant turns away and starting blowing his nose and coughing obnoxiously. Hugh is acting like a resentful brat because he knows he wont be able to have Iman. He decides he’s gonna pick a fight with Sandra Bullock via face time later to blow off steam. Iman is thinking she was right all along, she should never have agreed to this. She was already sick of the “beanie twins”. 

Hugh had been rattling on about how the movie needed a sex scene or at least a sexy scene and went on to say that Sophia had some sort of block. Iman felt that both Ewan and Hugh, however innocently, were exploiting their acting roles to gain real life experience, and there was no way in hell, she was going to kiss either of them.  Her kiss would make them immortal and Iman knew their souls needed more lifetimes to grow. Plus, she liked the script the way it was- underwritten and open for interpretation. Her character is symbolic of the side of their dad they didn’t get to meet-  spiritual, graceful, embodied. It was a soulful choice not to show any nudity or sex, one that could lead Americans to try to use whats left of their iPhone stolen imaginations.

                Meanwhile Michael Cain, who was supposed to play the dead father, is staring at the beautiful Victorian tapestry hanging behind her. “It’s like it’s right out of the Cloister’s.” Michael says under his breath. Michael is sweet, Iman thinks as she watches him stare at the tapestry with wonder, his mouth agape, and a lil warm milk spilling out of his left eye. Iman and him have known each other for years and he always reminded her of her husband: his fierce devotion to his craft, his rigorous intellectuality that does a bad job hiding an animalistic sexuality. Both men contained so much and no one can handle a man like that besides a mystical siren like Iman. 

Hugh and Ewan’s chatter dies as their drinks empty. “If I were to be honest with myself…” Hugh begins. “Better later than never…” Michael Cain interrupts without cracking a smile,  a dryness a la Maggie Smith. In fact, fuck, this was Maggie Smith. No one had realized. Hugh winks at Michael/ Maggie and continues. “ I don’t think were going to be filming any time soon, folks. I think we are being held hostage a bit by Miss Coppola.” Ewan stares off with a thinking face like no one has  ever had a deeper thought before. “That is interesting to think about. There is some kind of bratty assumption that all this will fade away soon enough. And we’ll be back on set. But what if it’s not for another year or so?”  Ewan is really getting worked up “What if we live here for the rest of our lives!!” His eyes are big and dazzling, it’s like he’s thinking of the most ideal outcome for the rest of his life.

               Suddenly, Sophia joins them at the table. “There they are, my little hunchbacks!” This is what Sophia affectionately calls her actors, the origin is unknown. Sophia has a strange new confidence around her. Usually, when she walked into places, she would feel like a Nat Sherman cigarette, like only some select tall New Yorkers in the back would still appreciate her. “Hello, love! Someone slept well.” Maggie Smith as Michael Caine chirped. Even when Maggie-Michael said something sweet, it still felt like someone was aggressively tickling your ribcage. 

          “I have news.” Sophia sits down, and smiled large and toothy, a stark contrast to her usual chic, despondent stare,  a look only afforded  to artists born with trust funds. “We’re not making the movie.” Hugh taps the table. “Well, I believe I won that bet.” Ewan’s jaw drops, destroyed. “You mean we cant live here together forever?” He runs his hands through his hair, petrified. Iman is quiet, which can mean many different things and all things at once, she is eternally the glory of God, a forgotten pyramid at the bottom of the ocean that if unearthed would explode us into 5D ascension. 

 “We are making a better movie! A super hero movie!!” Sophia exclaims. Sophia gets up close in the faces of her cast, pitching them on her new idea. “It’ll be a real heroes journey- good guys versus evil! Fun CGI! Sexy starlets and fun on trend jokes!” She turns to Michael Maggie, her mouth inches away from their milky eye, and says- “And much much more!” Sophia climbs up on the table now. “The adults will love it, as well as the little ones!” She does an Irish jig and starts spinning around and then poses with her arms up as though at the end of a musical.  It was not fun to watch.  Iman cuts her off-“I don’t trust what is happening.This is not reality. This is delusion. A karmic spell.” The power of Iman’s words blows the power out of the Chateau, pipes burst, the fire alarm goes off, and Joel Madden of Good Charlotte in room 304 stops jerking off for a second. Sophia is still catching her breath from her presentation, her sweating, arms stretched to the ceiling. She gulps as her eyes meet Iman’s. “Why don’t you just write from my character’s point of view?” Iman says as softly as she can without causing chaos.   Sophia freezes. Her whole body calcifies and turns to ice, then crumbles onto the table. Ewan and Hugh watch in absolute horror as Iman drops some of the ice into her water. She knows she shouldn’t have said yes to this project and looks on lovingly at Michael/ Maggie who has dozed off. 

[bubblywrites]

Running From A Name Chapter 5

Loud buzzing rang through Alma’s room. She rolled out of bed with a groan to shut off her alarm clock. She stretched out her limbs, yawning. She grabbed her parents’ wedding bands off the table and put them around her neck before leaving for her siblings’ rooms.

She headed to Miguel and Emilio’s room first. Alma gently shook their shoulders. Miguel rubbed the sleep away from his eyes and blinked slowly. Emilio shoved his head back into his pillow, but Alma pinched his butt. She squeezed him with more force than she intended. His head shot up and he yelped. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. “Why did you pinch me?”

“Because you’re difficult to wake up. You always try to go back to sleep.” Alma scolded.

Emilio’s face turned red. He started to hiccup as the tears sprung free from his eyes. Alma's face softened. She wrapped her arms around him and rubbed circles into his back. She kissed the top of his head and said, “Will you forgive me if I give you a piece of candy?”

Emilio’s face lit up. He nodded his head rapidly, all traces of his previous frustration erased.

Alma grabbed the clothes she set out for Emilio the night before. It was a pair of camouflage cargo pants and a Mickey Mouse shirt. She dressed him in little time. She went to do the same with Miguel, but he was already dressing himself. “Do you need any help Miguel?”

“No I got it. I can dress up all by myself.” Miguel said grinning.

Alma’s heart melted at Miguel’s smile. His cheeks always puffed up more whenever he showed his teeth. Alma extended her arms towards Miguel to try and pinch his face. He leaned to the side to dodge her hands. Alma crossed her arms over her chest and pouted.

“Let me touch them.” Alma whined. “No.” Miguel said in a stern voice. He covered his cheeks to shield himself from Alma's hands. She smacked her teeth and stood up.

“Make sure you guys brush your teeth. I’m going to go get Isabella ready.” Alma said.

She left the room and made her way down the hallway to Isabella’s room. After a few days of constant crying from Alma’s alarm clock, Marco suggested that Isabella sleep in the third spare room to escape the noise.

Alma pulled Isabella’s door open slowly. It opened with a creak, making Alma wince. She crossed her fingers in hopes she did not wake up her sister. In her sleep, Isabella’s ears could pick up any noise that was louder than a speaking voice. Alma shuffled to her crib and peered inside. Isabella sucked on her pacifier, fast asleep. Alma breathed out in relief. She lifted Isabella with care out of her fluffy pile of blankets and placed her inside her car seat.

Alma backed out of the room with cautionary steps. She left the door open and went back to her room to get dressed for work. Her uniform consisted of a collared, white button down shirt that had to be tucked into a knee-length black skirt. She fastened the black bowtie to her neck and went to the bathroom to freshen up. This was her routine everyday for the past week. And for the past week, Capra and Bruno plagued her thoughts. More so Bruno than Capra. Capra had the build of a man who had been a gangster for years. But Bruno was the opposite. He was no older than her, but he was already an active member of the mafia. What Bruno did with his life should not have been a concern to Alma. They were not friends or acquaintances. They were strangers who crossed paths in the street for a brief moment. Yet, she sympathized with him and yearned for his safety. It was because she had the same look in Bruno’s eyes when she lived in Sicily. The eyes of a person trapped in a situation they cannot escape. A child strung into the affairs of adults in the dark belly of the underworld.

Alma splashed water on her face. She exited the bathroom and went down into the restaurant’s kitchen with her siblings.

“Buon Giorno.” Alma and her brothers said in unison. “Buon Giorno.” All the kitchen staff replied.

Alma went up to Marco and kissed his cheek. “Buon Giorno, zio.”

Marco had his hands full with a tray of fruit but nuzzled Alma’s cheek with his own. “Buon Giorno piccola.”

Alma plucked a strawberry from the arrangement of fruit. Her gaze settled on Angelo. He was stirring a pot on one of the stoves. She paraded up to him and twisted his ear.

“What the hell?” He hollered. He scowled at her while massaging his ear. “Last week, you told me you were going to tell me everything you knew about Capra and Bruno. But you never did.” Alma whispered through gritted teeth. “Because there was never a good time for it. But I promise I’ll tell you everything today.”

“You better.” Alma pointed an accusatory finger at him as she left the kitchen with her siblings.

The door chimed, signaling someone entered the restaurant. The person who walked in was a tall girl with golden caramel skin. She wore baggy black sweatpants with a green, cropped tank top that showed off her belly button piercing. Her plump lips glistened with pink lip gloss that complimented her hazel eyes. She had a slim build with a tiny waist. But her flared out hips added curves to her body that made Alma jealous. Her loose curly hair flowed down to her waist and was the same blazing red as Giuseppe’s.

“Buon Giorno, Sophia.” Alma said. “Buon Giorno, Alma.” Sophia’s voice was soft yet smooth like honey.

Alma prayed that she could be able to embody everything about Sophia when she got older.

Miguel and Emilio ran into Sophia’s arms. She scooped them both up with ease. They wrapped their arms around her shoulders as she kissed their cheeks. The boys broke into a giggle fit. She put them down and strode up to Alma, pulling her into a hug. Alma sighed. “Even her boobs are soft.” She let Alma go and took Isabella from her hands.

“You should come over sometimes Alma. I need another girl in the house.” Sophia begged. “I will as soon as I get time.”

Sophia’s disposition was similar to Alma’s. Her and Giuseppe’s parents died three years ago. That left her alone to take care of Giuseppe. Sophia took an immediate liking to Alma when she explained her situation to her.

Sophia gave Alma one last squeeze. She held Emilio’s hand and left the restaurant with Miguel following her. The kitchen door slammed open. Alma wrenched her head towards it. Angelo stood there, clutching onto the door frame. He asked, “Did Sophia just leave?”

“Yeah.” “Damnit.”

Alma squinted her eyes at Angelo. “You know she’s nineteen, right?” “Doesn’t matter. When I turn eighteen, it won’t be a problem.” “I thought her being taller than you would bother you.” “Have you seen Sophia? She could be seven feet and I’d still pursue her.”

Alma rolled her eyes. “She likes you-like a brother.” She drawled out the word brother. Alma moved to wrap her arm around Angelo’s shoulders. “She’s out of your league. Maybe if you grow tall enough to stare her in the eyes without looking up at her, she’ll reconsider.”

Angelo held up a finger ready to retort but lowered it. He playfully shoved Alma off of him. She cackled as he went up to the restaurant’s sign to flip it to open.

“Don’t forget about our deal.” Alma said.

“I know. I know. Let’s just get through work first. Customers are gonna come in soon.” Angelo dove back into the kitchen while Alma patted down her clothes. The door chimed again. Alma put on her most pleasant smile to greet the oncoming patron.

“Welcome to Libeccio’s. I’ll be yo-” Alma’s eyes widened. Bruno Buccellati had strolled into the restaurant with his hands in his pockets. Capra was not with him. His face was blank until he locked eyes with her. They stared at each other in silence. Bruno broke their standstill.

“I would like a table please. The usual one will do.” He gave Alma the same polite smile from when they first met. Except this time, the smile was more like an automated response than genuine. Alma yanked herself out of her stupor.

“No problem.” She motioned for Bruno to follow her to the reserved seating area. He took his seat and she handed him a menu. Alma stood there for a while, examining Bruno’s face. He kept a straight face as he concentrated on reading the menu. Every so often, his eyebrows furrowed but not enough to reveal what he was thinking. He closed the menu and faced Alma.

“Is there something wrong?” He asked.

Alma raised an eyebrow. “No. Why would you ask?”

“You’ve been staring at me the entire time.”

Alma’s face burned. She scrambled to grab his menu to rush back into the kitchen. Bruno tapped her arm with his finger. She turned back to him, embarrassment still evident on her face. He gave her a lopsided smile. “I didn’t finish ordering.”

Alma almost slammed the menu back on the table. “I’m so sorry. I-I’ll ju-just get you a drink. I never asked what you wanted to drink. What did you want to drink?” She rambled.

Bruno shook his head, amusement laced in his expression. “You can calm down. I’ll just have some water and some squid pasta.”

Alma exhaled and recollected herself. “Sorry. You shouldn’t have to see me fumble like that.”

“First job jitters I guess?” “Something like that.” “Is Mr. Calamaro working you too hard?”

Alma rested her hands on her hips. In a teasing tone, she said, “He said he would, but he doesn’t. The man practically babies me. It’s Angelo he works like a slave.”

The two of them broke into laughter. Bruno’s laugh was higher pitched than his speaking voice. A little hiccup escaped his lips every couple of huffs. Alma made a loud snort. Her hand flew to her mouth. Bruno stopped laughing and questioned her. “Did you just snort?”

“It happens sometimes. Sorry” “Don’t apologize. It was cute.”

Alma’s face flushed bright red. “There is no way you find a snort cute.”

“You just proved it could be.” He grinned, flashing his white teeth.

Alma’s face matched the color of a tomato. “Y-you...mmm. I’ll just get your water.” Bruno snickered behind her as she dashed into the kitchen to grab a pitcher of water. She headed back to Bruno’s table to fill up his glass with the ice-cold liquid. There were no other customers that needed her assistance, so Alma enjoyed some more casual banter with Bruno.

Capra popped into Alma’s mind during their conversation. Bruno appeared more relaxed without him around. Unable to brush off her curiosity, Alma took a gamble at questioning Bruno about Capra. “Where’s your scary companion today?”

Bruno’s smile dropped. His bright eyes tinted. Alma swallowed. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“He’s working.” Bruno answered.

Alma’s smile grew uneasy. “Oh. Just curious.” She left her questioning at that. Any more pushing might invoke Bruno’s suspicion.

Angelo poked his head into the room. “Could you stop flirting with our customers and get back to work.”

Alma snapped at Angelo, blushing. “I am not flirting. I’m just talking with a customer.”

“No, no you aren’t. What you are doing is flirting. The morning rush is about to start. We need all hands on deck.” Angelo placed Bruno's order in front him and left the room.

Alma waved to Bruno and trailed after Angelo. He moved closer to her and spoke in a hushed tone. “I pulled you out of there before you got ahead of yourself with the questions.”

“I stopped questioning him before you came into the room.” “Did you find the answers you were looking for?” “No. I hope to fill in some of the blanks with answers from you.”

Angelo pinched the bridge of his nose. “I get it. Capra’s scary and you think Buccellati’s cute. But that’s not a good enough reason to go digging for information on them.” Alma shoved Angelo’s shoulder. “I just feel like I can relate to him a little. That’s all.”

Angelo scratched the back of his head. “You didn’t deny the part about him being cute but whatever. I get you.” Alma nudged Angelo’s arm and walked into the kitchen with him.

Alma changed into a pair of denim shorts with a black graphic t-shirt. She left her room and headed to Angelo’s. She knocked on his door. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah, gimme a second.” He said. There was shuffling on the other side of the door. It swung open, revealing Angelo clad in dark ripped jeans with a plain navy blue shirt. Alma stood on the tip of her toes to peek into Angelo’s room. There were posters of different musical artists hanging on the walls. A television and gaming console were set up in one corner of the room. His room smelled of earthy cologne. What stood out the most was the tidiness of the room. Besides the few papers scattered on his desk, there were no clothes or random junk on the floor. All the items on his dresser were organized and neat.

“Your room is neater than I thought it would be.” Alma said.

Angelo’s head jerked back as he splayed a hand on his chest. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I just never imagined you to be an organized person.”

“Clutter makes me uncomfortable. I like to have a clean space to think. Unlike you. You’ve only been here for a week and your room is already a mess.”

Alma scoffed. “Fine, whatever. Just take me to this private little space you keep talking about.”

Angelo stepped in front of her and she followed. They went downstairs into the living room to tell Marco they were leaving.

“Be safe you two.” Marco said. “We will.” Angelo responded. Marco stuck out his fist and Angelo bumped it with his own. He then gave Alma’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze. Marco waved goodbye to them as they exited the room.

“What are we doing in the market?” Alma asked. “In terms of where we live in Naples, the market is in the middle of everything. So it's easy to find a shortcut.” Angelo said

As they strolled down the street, a tiny art shop caught Alma’s eye. She grabbed Angelo’s arm to stop him. He scrunched his eyebrows at her until he followed her gaze. Alma clasped her hands in front of her like she was praying. “It will be a quick look. I swear.”

Angelo exhaled through his nose and grumbled. “Fine.”

Alma squealed and rushed into the store. The smell of sandalwood flooded her nostrils. The deep, woody scent washed over her, making her relax. She meandered through the aisles, admiring the collection art supplies on the shelves. The shelves were full of paintbrushes, oil paints, inks, wood sticks, and other artistic items. Alma reached into her pocket and pulled out some money. She sighed at the few bills in her hands. She only had enough money for a few pencils and a couple of inking pens. She grabbed the drawing utensils and took them to the checkout area.

“Is that all you're getting?” Angelo asked from behind her.

Alma jerked her shoulders and screamed. She spun her head around to Angelo to scold him. “Don’t do that. Where did you even come from?”

“I walked in not too long after you did. You were looking at this stuff, so I picked it up.” In his hands were a sketchbook, paint, and brushes. He placed them on the counter and handed Alma some money.

“You don’t have to do this Angelo.” Alma said. “Don’t worry about it. They don’t cost much anyway.”

“Thanks.” Alma hugged Angelo. He wrapped his arms around her and patted her back. The cashier rang up the art supplies and wished them a good day on their way out of the store.

They continued their stroll through the marketplace, engaged in light conversation. They stopped when they entered a park. The park had luscious green grass and a children's playground. There were a few benches scattered around the area.

“Naples is filled with so many buildings that I thought they had no parks.” Alma stated. “I thought you would recognize this place once we got here. I guess not.”

Alma cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?” Angelo waved his hand forward. “Just follow me.”

Angelo led Alma into a portion of the park that had a dense covering of trees. It was almost impossible to not trip over a tree root or get an arm caught in a vine. Angelo slipped through a tall thicket of bushes. Alma followed in after him. When she pushed the leaves away from her, she gasped. Hidden under the canopy of trees was a treehouse. Moss grew on all sides of the treehouse, swallowing it into the greenery. The parts of it that could be seen were the same walnut brown of the trees.

“We found this place when we were little. You were six and I was eight. We would come here every time you visited Naples during the summer.” Angelo's voice was warm.

Alma stared at the treehouse in awe. “I can’t believe I forgot about this place.”

Angelo hiked up the wooden planks that led into the treehouse. Alma touched the planks. They were rough and had splinters sticking out in random spots.

“Wait one second.” Angelo hollered. After a few seconds of waiting, Angelo stuck his head out of a wide door built into the side of the treehouse. He threw out a large wooden box attached to a rope. It landed on the ground with a loud thump. Alma was surprised it did not break.

“Get in the box!” Angelo yelled.

Alma did a double take. “You’re kidding. I’m not getting in that thing.”

“Don’t worry. It’s big enough to hold a person, and I changed the rope not too long ago.” Angelo said. Alma glared at him. He returned her look with twinkling eyes and pouty lips. Alma dropped her shoulders in defeat. She swung her leg over the opening of the box. When her foot made contact with the bottom, it creaked. Alma jumped back, hands flying to her chest.

“Stop being a baby and get in the damn box!” “Fine!” Alma hesitated before she stepped into the box fully. She sat down, bringing her knees to her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut. Her heart pounded in her chest as Angelo pulled the box up.

When Angelo pulled the box inside, Alma leapt out of it. She sighed in relief and opened her eyes. There were pillows and beanbag chairs piled on a carpet in the middle of the floor. Stuffed animals and race cars were stacked in one corner of the room. Small, different colored hand prints covered every inch of the walls. On the window was a sign that read “secret base” in childish handwriting. Alma pressed her hand against a tiny, purple handprint. Angelo plopped down into one of the beanbag chairs. He patted the one across from him. Alma crawled to the plush chair and sat down. Angelo put his elbows on his knees and asked, “Where do you want to start with these questions?”

Alma straightened in her seat. “I’ll tell you what I already know. I know Bruno and Capra are mafia members. What I want to know is why you guys let them into the restaurant knowing that.”

Nervousness swam in Angelo’s eyes. He swallowed. “We pay protection fees to their organization.”

Alma’s muscles tensed. She had to stop her eyes from widening. “How long has this been going on?” She asked.

“I’m not really sure.”

Alma’s eyes scrutinized him. Angelo’s hands shot up. “I’m not lying. I swear.” She dropped her glare.

They stared at the ground. The only sound in the room were the trees rustling in the wind. The silence grew uncomfortable, urging one of them to speak. Angelo obliged. “Well, now you know. Are you scared?”

Alma continued to stare at the floor. She intertwined her fingers in her lap. “No. I can kinda understand why you guys would. It feels nice to be protected.” She squeezed her hands together. “To feel safe.” She raised her head and stared at the wall. “Capra’s scary, so I can’t really say whether or not he's a bad person. But I don’t think Bruno is one. When he’s not around Capra, there’s a warmth around him. Even if there’s a chance his smiles are fake or the fact that he’s probably killed someone, he makes me feel comfortable. I feel like he’s someone who could really understand me. And I really want to understand him.”

Angelo rose to his feet. He squeezed Alma’s shoulder. She glanced up at him. His eyes were filled with compassion. “You are safe now, Alma.”

Smooth jazz melodies poured out from Le Signore’s walls. Bruno laid his back against the side of the building, tapping his foot to the beat of the music. He veered his head around the corner to examine the entrance. The only person there was a muscular bouncer whose head hovered close to the top of the door. Bruno returned to his previous position.

Capra ordered him yesterday morning to watch over the club tonight. There was a chance more street thugs would try to attack Le Signore. They apprehended a group of them a week ago, but two of them escaped. A blunder on Bruno’s part. Capra sent him back to the club to make up for his failure while he worked on another assignment from Polpo.

Bruno tilted his head up to the night sky and sighed. He should have been focused on preparing himself for the enemy, but his mind filled with images of the girl from Libeccio’s. “Alma.” He rolled her name on his tongue, stressing the syllables. When the lone little boy poked fun of his clothes, he put two and two together that he belonged to the screaming girl in the street. He intended to only return her lost sibling to her. But when he laid his eyes on Alma's smile, his breath hitched. During that meeting, he listed down all kinds of details about her: Her radiant smile, her adorable laugh, her vibrant blush, and her eyes that shined with hope.

He winced at the memory of Alma and Capra meeting. He was focused on discussing the job with Capra that day, so he acted standoffish with her. When her body froze with fear from Capra’s stare, Bruno became painfully reminded why he did not befriend civilians. His world was different from theirs. They worked normal jobs. He worked with the mafia. They either feared or respected him. He either helped or threatened them. When he and Alma met again, her face filled with surprise, but was replaced with joy once he opened his mouth to speak. As she talked, there was no hint of fear or need to respect him. When Bruno conversed with other civilians, he enjoyed it. But he also did it out of obligation to connect with the community. With Alma, it was different. He wanted to let his thoughts loose. Her bubbly aura enveloped him in warmth. She was like a breath of fresh air. However, the fact that she was still a civilian nagged him.

Bruno sighed. “I should probably cut things off with her. It will be good for both of us.”

The sound of a car skittering to a stop pulled Bruno out of his thoughts. A man in a beanie and another man with a leather vest exited the vehicle. The club bouncer strutted up to the men to question them, but the man in the beanie shoved his into his stomach. He stumbled back, arms wrapped around his middle. The man in the leather vest pulled out his gun and fired a bullet into the bouncer’s head. His lifeless body fell to the ground.

The two men walked up to the entrance of the club. Bruno picked up an empty beer bottle and hurled it at the man in the beanie. It connected with his back and shattered when it hit the floor. The man whipped his head around to where Bruno was, but he had already used Sticky Fingers to create a whole in the ground to hide in.

“You stay here. I’m gonna kill the fucker that threw that bottle at me.” The man in the beanie grumbled.

Bruno stalked through the ground to get under the man in the vest. He formed a zipper under his feet and opened it. The man fell through with a yelp. Bruno closed the zipper. The man fired panicked shots at the air. Using the darkness to his advantage, Bruno jumped at the man and zipped him apart. The man thudded onto the ground in pieces. Bruno undid his ability, leaving the man in a grotesque arrangement of parts that swam in his own blood.

He unzipped the ground and pulled himself up. When Bruno stood up, the man in the beanie was there. He lunged at Bruno. He swung his arm out to ram his inner elbow into Bruno’s face. Bruno ducked under his arm and wrapped his body around the man like a coil. The man called out his stand. It was a red humanoid stand. Bruno’s eyes bulged. His surprised daze allowed the stand to grab him by the collar and launch him at the car. His back slammed against the car door, knocking the air out of his lungs. Bruno struggled to stand as pain coursed through his body. When he collected himself, Bruno saw that the man in the beanie had darted down the street. Bruno ignored the burning pain in his back and dashed after him.

He caught up to the man in a park. He took a deep breath and stared the man down. They both lunged at each other, unleashing their stands. Their stands collided in a barrage of punches. Sticky Fingers’ speed gave Bruno the upperhand. His stand’s fist connected with the stomach of the enemy stand user. The man lurched forward. Bruno zipped a hole into the stand’s stomach. The man stumbled backwards, but landed a successful blow to Bruno’s head and leg. Bruno screamed out in pain. He jabbed Sticky Fingers elbow into the man's throat. The man collapsed to the ground, dead.

Bruno dropped to his knees. Searing pain pulsed through Bruno’s leg. The bone was not broken, but it would be a struggle to walk. His head rattled. The taste of iron filled Bruno’s mouth. He stood up on his good leg and limped. His vision faded in and out. He could not piece together up and down or left and right. He tripped over a tree root and tumbled down a hill covered in thick bushes. His back slammed into a tree. He groaned. He bit his lip and forced himself to sit up against the tree. His body surged with pain. He blinked a few times to try to regain his vision, but all he could make out were blobs of green and brown. His ears perked at someone screaming his name. But before he could acknowledge them, his vision faded to black.

#bruno buccellati #bruno buccellati x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #bruno buccellati x oc #fanfic #jjba part 5

[loveforpreserumsteve]

Those Who Fall: “APTF” Story (Modern Domestic Stucky AU)

Thirty:

"Papa?"

With heavy eyelids, Steve squinted into the darkness. He was in bed, but he didn't remember getting there. Momentarily paranoid until he felt Bucky's sleeping frame beside him. A small hand shook his arm, and Steve cautiously peeked in the direction. Finding Sophia instead ghost children, he asked, "Everything okay?"

Clutching her stuffed bear, she shook her head, "I had a bad dream."

Steve scrubbed his hand over his face and went to take the little girl back to her bed, but she stopped him, "Can I stay here with you and daddy? Please?"

Even if her lower lip wasn't quivering and even if her eyes weren't glinting with unshed tears, Steve would've moved closer to Bucky's side and pulled back the covers for her. With a small smile, Sophia climbed into the king size bed. Facing Steve, she curled up against his body. As she wrapped her arms around Steve's bare torso, he kissed her forehead and smoothed her silky black hair away from her face.

"Wanna tell me about it?" Steve asked as he soothingly rubbed her back.

Sophia shook her head and moved closer to Steve.

"Okay, sweetie," Steve yawned and tried to get comfortable again in between two very warm-bodied people and under a thick comforter.

Sophia nuzzled closer and Steve kept smoothing her hair. Softly, Sophia asked, "Sing me a song, papa?"

Around another yawn, Steve nodded. Kissing her forehead again, Steve went for his go-to and softly complied, "'You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You'll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my…'"

Eyes snapping open, he continued, "'Sunshine away,'" only to find that Sophia was no longer in bed with him and neither was Bucky. Further evaluating the master bedroom, Steve found light peeking in through the curtains. Glancing at the alarm clock on his bedside table, Steve found it read: 10:30, which meant that he slept in longer than he had meant to.

Forcing himself out of bed, Steve made his way to the ensuite. Quickly taking care of his morning business. Once done, he slipped on his rings and entered the closet to dress for the day. Since they were going to the orchard to do the typical autumn activities, Steve pulled on a pair of jeans and a plain maroon sweatshirt.

As he made his way for the stairs, he heard commotion in the garage and changed his course. Stepping into the garage, Steve found Bucky up in the loft handing Jonas some of the outdoor Halloween decorations. With the pair in the middle of a conversation, Steve stayed at the open doorway; not wanting to interrupt them.

"It was terrible!" Jonas groaned in embarrassment, "I'll be surprised if she talks to me ever again."

"Trust me, if pops could not only agree to dating me, but marry me after everything that I did," Bucky huffed out a laugh, "You're fine."

"You think?" Jonas asked, sounding hopeful.

"Positive."

Just as Steve was about to turn and go back into the house, Jonas questioned, "How did you ask pops out?"

And Steve just had to hear what his husband had to say.

"Well," Bucky panted from moving the decorations from the loft to the edge where Jonas could reach them, "It was a bunch of double dates. Of course, pops doesn't count those."

Steve rolled his eyes at that. Of course, he didn't count those! The pair had been coupled with girls, not each other, for sobbing out loud! And the one time that Steve had been coupled with a boy, it was all a ruse for Bucky to see what Steve liked in a partner. Which was ridiculous considering Steve didn't have a type until he met Bucky and his soul went, oh, yes, we like him. This is our person.

Bucky clarified, "We had a night in. Where we watched horror movies that scared the ever-loving shit out of me, but I chose because I knew how much your father loves them --"

Steve found it funny that Bucky left out the part that he cozied up to him the entire time.

"-- and then we spent the rest of the night… making out."

Steve smiled at the memory and nearly laughed out loud when Jonas complained, "I really didn't need to know that, dad."

"Sorry, not sorry," Bucky chuckled.

Deciding to make his presence known before Bucky could traumatize their child any further, Steve walked around the corner and smiled, "What's going on out here."

"Figured we could decorate before it starts getting too cold," Bucky answered while Jonas mocked, "Grossing me out."

Playfully, Bucky rolled his eyes at that and asked Steve, "How'd you sleep?"

"Fine," Steve shrugged.

"Wish I could sleep that well," Jonas wistfully commented and teased, "You passed out before we even got home."

"I was tired," Steve defended himself while Bucky joked, "I'm just glad that he eventually stopped snoring."

Steve rolled his eyes and blew a raspberry at them both before turning to head back into the house. As he climbed the stairs, he could vaguely hear music just barely beneath the laughter and conversations. It really shouldn't have been a surprise when he saw almost all of the kids in the kitchen.

What was a surprise though was when he found Tibby there, too. Shimmying her shoulders to make Holly, in her highchair, laugh. There was small pumpkin pancakes on the chair's tray that Holly was slowly eating. Meanwhile, Luke was at the stove icing a tray of cooling cinnamon rolls and Katie was removing another batch from the top wall oven.

Grabbing Tibby's hand, Ethan danced to the music and giggled when she twirled him around. Bringing Steve back to the early days when Tibby was still a kid. Hoping that his kids would remember and cherish these moments in their lives. Hoping that these memories could take the place of all the ones filled with hurt and fear. Replace them with happiness and moments where they knew they were loved.

"You're up!" Tibby greeted.

Steve nodded giving a silent, obviously, as Luke said, "Might wanna tell Dad."

Brows furrowing, Steve asked, "Why?"

"He was worried," Katie answered, removing the cinnamon rolls from the lower wall oven.

"Of course, he was," Steve rolled his eyes and further entered the kitchen.

Luke scoffed, "I mean, he did have to carry you to bed last night."

Blushing, Steve waved the hidden concern off. Not wanting to worry his children. Not any of them, but especially not the younger ones. Instead, Steve distracted himself.

At the table, Sophia was sitting, coloring a picture of a cat in a pumpkin patch at night. Steve smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head as he praised, "That's really pretty, sweetie."

"Thank you," Sophia tilted her head back to beam up at Steve.

Tucking her long hair behind her ear, he offered, "We can even hang it up, if you want to."

"Hmm," Sophia's expression twisted into one of thought, and sighed, "I'll think about it."

"Okay," Steve agreed, giving her forehead a kiss.

As Steve turned back around, he noticed that someone was missing, "Where's Wanda?"

"Oh," Katie scrunched her nose the way she always did when she felt guilty and admitted, "In the bathroom sick. She got one whiff of my body wash and barely made it to the toilet."

"Poor thing," Tibby shook her head, all the while swinging Ethan around like he was a rag doll.

"What body wash?" Steve's brows furrowed, hoping that it wasn't the seasonal one that he gifted her in the care package. Especially since he had gifted the same one to Wanda and he would feel positively awful if that was the reason why she had morning sickness every day.

Turning the ovens off, Katie said, "The one with rose oil that we got over the summer. It's the one that I left here."

Crossing the kitchen to the fridge where a ghost post-it note was located, Steve added to the list of:

NO MORE celery/celery salt cucumber pickles bananas rose oil

Putting the pen back in its place, Wanda joined the group with a sheepish smile on her face while she rubbed her protruding abdomen. It seemed like her bump was growing more and more every day. Almost outgrowing the outfits that they had bought just a week ago.

Steve paused, had it only been a week? Steve just couldn't believe it. Wanda fit in so well with them that he could barely remember what their lives had been like before she entered it. And now, Steve couldn't imagine a life where she wasn't a part of their family.

"Well, this certainly smells better," Wanda commented, holding her lower back, "I'm so hungry, I think I could eat a horse."

"Why would you want to eat a horse?" Ethan asked.

"It's just a saying, honey," Steve explained, "It means that you're really hungry."

"Oh," the little boy contemplated and climbed up on one of the stools, "Then, I want to eat a horse, too."

Shaking his head, Steve chuckled, "How about we have some cinnamon rolls instead."

"Pumpkin cinnamon rolls," Luke corrected, washing his hands.

"Even better," Steve grinned.

#a place to fall #jump then fall #those who fall #bonus #stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x bucky barnes #marvel #fanfic #wattpad #ao3 #modern au #domestic life #fluff #smut #otp

[spoookymuulders]

we have to adapt to survive.

read it on ao3 here word count: 2,929 warnings: mentions of panic attacks, nightmares

She killed it with kisses and from it she fled. - Musician Florence Welch

August 8, 2010

Parker jerks upright in bed, her heart pounding. Sucking in a few breaths, she looks around and hurries to focus on one of the exercises her therapist has been walking her through. 

Five things she can see; the LED numbers on her alarm clock. The streetlights from outside. Her panicked reflection in the mirror. Her outfit for tomorrow on the dresser. Her door.

Four things she can touch; her pajamas. Her blanket. Her hair. Her pillow.

Three things she can hear; a car alarm outside. Her white noise machine. The rustling of her sheets.

Two things she can smell; her lavender pillow spray. Her strawberry shampoo.

One thing she can taste; morning breath.

She grimaces at the last one, but she can feel her heartbeat returning to normal. Exhaling unsteadily, she lays back down and rubs her face hard. It feels like the nightmares are never-ending. They come almost every night, and every morning she’s more tired than when she went to bed. A glance at her alarm clock tells her that it’s 2:45 in the morning, and she groans quietly, rubbing at her eyes. She needs to get back to sleep - Penelope is supposed to pick her up at 9:30 for a girls day out - but she doubts that that’s going to happen.

Sighing softly, she yawns and rolls onto her side, staring out the window as rain begins to fall. The soft sound is soothing and before she knows it, she’s slipping back into a restless sleep.

Several hours later, Parker’s alarm rings bright and early, and she rolls over and smacks at it with a grunt. As she lays on her stomach, she can hear Spencer puttering around in the kitchen, and she rubs her eyes and stifles a yawn in her pillow. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, she pushes herself up and shuffles out of her room, smiling lazily when she spies Spencer humming at the counter and dumping sugar into his coffee. She pads up behind him and rests her cheek to his back, smiling again when he hums softly.

“Mornin’.” She mumbles sleepily, tucking herself against his chest when he turns around. Spencer smiles softly and presses a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Morning.” He says softly, settling his arms around her. He brushes his fingers through the ends of her hair and hums softly, resting his cheek to her head. “Excited to spend the day with Garcia?” Parker hums in response.

“Yes. But I’m also glad I slept so hard last night. And that you’re making coffee.” She says. Spencer chuckles and releases her long enough to pour another cup.

“Garcia will probably take you to Starbucks while you’re out as well.” He tells her. She hums again and takes the mug from him, pouring in cream and sugar and stirring it for a moment before taking a sip. She’s going to need all the caffeine she can get if she’s going to keep up with Penelope today.

She and Penelope had clicked almost the minute they met - Spencer had told her they would, and he’d been right. Parker had accompanied Spencer to the BAU office one afternoon and had they needed to, they would have been able to see Penelope coming from a mile away in her bright pink dress and her bright red hair. She had taken Parker under her wing immediately and they’d become thick as thieves. Penelope had even helped Parker get started working on her GED.

Spencer had tried to encourage Parker to take some time to adjust to a normal life again, but she had insisted on starting on her GED as soon as she could. This will help me feel normal, she had insisted, and Spencer hadn’t argued - after all, if it made her happy, who was he to fight it? He glances down at the blonde in his arms and sighs softly, a tender smile touching his lips as she leans against him and sips at her coffee. Parker tips her head up and smiles sleepily at him, her eyes half-closed, and he chuckles softly, tapping her nose lightly. 

“You should go get dressed.” He tells her. She hums in response and he turns her around, pushing her towards her room gently and watching as she shuffles in and shuts the door behind herself.

In her room, Parker stands just beyond the closed door and curls her toes against the hardwood floors. The heady scent of her coffee fills her nose and she rocks on her feet for a moment as she looks around the room. It’s still hard to believe she’s actually home.

Her mother had tried so hard to convince Parker to come back to Vienna with her, or to get her to stay in Vegas with Jeremy and Sophia and the kids, but Parker had rebuffed all these suggestions, telling her mother she felt safest with Spencer. And Spencer had had no problem with finding a two-bedroom apartment - luckily enough, in the same building as the one-bedroom he’d been occupying before Parker’s return. Moving had been easy, especially with the help of the rest of the BAU team. It helped that Parker didn’t actually have anything to move, but she’s been building up a collection slowly. 

She has a decent wardrobe now, she thinks, and a nice matching bed and dresser and nightstand set. She’s been collecting books she’d had before and finding new ones; JJ insists she read a series called Twilight and Parker thinks it’s absolute garbage, but she can’t bring herself to stop reading it, either. 

A glance at the alarm clock on her nightstand tells her she needs to get her ass in gear, and she sets her coffee on the dresser, digging to find a pair of jeans and a top. She’s dressed in no time, and she slips into the bathroom, squinting at herself in the mirror. Her hair is so long now - and quite unruly, if she’s being completely honest. She stares at herself for a long moment, seriously considering (not for the first time) going to find a pair of scissors and hacking off most of her hair. Huffing quietly, she shakes her head before twisting her hair into a bun quickly and securing it with an elastic. By the time she’s done brushing her teeth and doing her makeup, Spencer is knocking at the door to let her know that Penelope has arrived.

She slips out with a smile, grabbing her purse and tipping her head as Spencer leans down to kiss her cheek gently. As she loops her arm through Penelope’s, Spencer calls out, “Have fun! Be safe!”

Parker promises to do both and that she’ll call if they need him, then blows him a kiss and disappears down the stairs with Penelope.

****

It feels like they’ve been shopping for the whole damn day - Parker feels like it should be 10:30 at night, but a glance at her watch tells her it’s only been three hours. Penelope has dragged her all over creation, just to spend time together and do some shopping, and Parker has no real complaints, other than she’s tired as hell.

She and Penelope have just finished lunch when they wander past a hair salon, and Parker stops in front of the window. Penelope keeps walking for a moment, chattering brightly before she realizes that Parker isn’t beside her anymore, and she comes back to Parker’s side, tipping her head. Parker doesn’t notice - she’s too busy staring at the girl inside getting her hair cut. A solid ten inches are dropping from her head onto the floor of the salon, and she’s beaming at the hairdresser in the mirror, laughing at some joke that’s just been shared between them, and Parker feels her eyes brim with tears.

“Hey, are you okay?” Penelope asks gently, touching Parker’s arm. Parker jumps a little, coming back to herself, and turns to Penelope, wiping her eyes quickly. “What’s goin’ on, Peep?”

“I wanna get my hair cut.” She says. Penelope blinks at her, then nods.

“Okay. Are you thinking like - a trim, get a couple inches off, or..?”

“I want it gone. I wanna chop it.” 

Penelope blinks twice, then beams at Parker. 

“Well what are we waiting for?!” She crows, and grabs Parker’s arm, dragging her inside. The young woman who greets them smiles warmly, nodding when Penelope asks if they have any availability for a walk-in appointment. She guides them back to a chair where a young man with a bright southern accent greets them with a grin and introduces himself as Jamie.

“What’re we doin’ today, sugar?” He asks as Parker settles in the chair and he drapes a cape around her front. 

“Chopping it. All of it.” She tells him. He raises his brows as he takes the elastic off and her hair tumbles out of its bun. Humming quietly, he pokes and prods around her scalp for a few moments before nodding.

“Let’s chop, then, baby.” He says. Parker nods, following him to the sinks in the back of the salon. He washes her hair and conditions it, holding it securely in a towel as they walk back to the chair. Penelope is perched in the chair beside it, chin propped in her hand as she watches Jamie work his magic. To his credit, he hadn’t asked any skeptical questions when Parker said she wanted to chop her hair off, and she appreciates that. 

After an hour of Jamie trimming and teasing and Parker saying shorter shorter shorter, he fluffs her still-damp hair and raises a brow in the mirror. 

“What do we think?” He asks. Penelope looks up and gasps softly, her eyes widening. Parker swallows thickly and nods, and Jamie grins before he massages some curl-boosting something-or-other into her scalp and grabs the blow dryer. When it’s dry, Parker’s hair is bright and vibrant and soft and so light. She can’t take her eyes off of it, watching the way the curls bounce and the light catches on the gold, and she feels her eyes burn. Jamie styles it a little, then removes the cape and helps Parker stand, laughing when she throws her arms around him in a tight hug.

“Thank you.” She whispers, sniffling as she steps back. Jamie grins, fluffing the ends of Parker’s hair gently.

“You come back to me anytime you want a haircut darlin’, you hear me?” He says. Parker nods and Jamie sees her and Penelope out, hovering by the desk as Parker pays. He waves after the two of them, watching as they slip back into the sun.

Parker can’t stop running her fingers through her hair. It’s gonna take some getting used to, for sure. Penelope grins, reaching over to tug at a curl lightly.

“Y’know what I think?” She muses. Parker hums in response, glancing at her. “I think we need to find you a new wardrobe. Something that feels like you and matches this new hair.”

Parker’s eyes light up.

****

Logically, Spencer knows that Parker is fine. She’s with Garcia, why wouldn’t she be? But there’s still that little part in the back of his mind telling him that she’s gone again, and that this time he’s not going to get her back. Since her return, she hasn’t been out of his sight for a whole day unless he’s been out of town on a case. And if he’s out of town on a case, she’s been with Garcia in her lair, working on her GED, or staying at Garcia’s apartment. But even then, he usually Skypes her before they both go to bed, or at the very least talks to her on the phone. Today, he hasn’t seen her since Garcia picked her up at 9:30, and now the two of them are running late to dinner and he can feel himself starting to panic a little.

Perched next to Morgan at their restaurant-patio table, he fiddles with his glass of wine absently, checking his phone now and then. JJ leans over and nudges his shoulder gently.

“They’ll be here in no time.” She assures him gently. He glances at her and offers a half-smile, nodding, but he doesn’t relax until he hears Garcia announcing loudly that they’ve arrived. His shoulders slump a little as Garcia approaches their table, beaming at them all.

“Ladies and gentlemen. I would like to introduce.. Parker O’Hare 2.0!” She announces grandly, and Spencer raises his brows a little. But when Parker steps out from behind Garcia, he understands, and his heart jumps into his throat. The others around him are whistling and gasping, but he pays them no mind, looking only at Parker.

She looks much more comfortable - and much more like herself, honestly - in loose jeans and a pair of Doc Martens. There’s a t-shirt tucked into her jeans (covered by one of his cardigans, he notes), but that’s not what catches his eye the most. What catches his eye the most is her hair - or lack of it, as the case may be. When she’d woken up this morning, her hair had been down to her waist in a braid, and she had tied it up in a bun before she’d left with Garcia. Now, it hangs much shorter, just barely brushing the tops of her shoulders. The curls are a little more pronounced, and her hair almost seems a little brighter and shinier than it did this morning. She thanks the others as they compliment her, but her eyes focus on Spencer again after a moment as he comes forward. 

“What do you think?” She asks softly, peering up at him almost nervously. Reaching out, he brushes his fingers through the ends of her hair gently and loops one of her curls around his index finger, tugging lightly. She bites her lip around a small smile, and he returns the smile, brushing his thumb against her jaw gently.

“I think it looks great.” He tells her, and she grins broadly at him, wrapping her arms around his middle tightly. He settles his arms around her shoulders and kisses her hair, squeezing lightly before leading her to the table. She perches beside him and twists the end of her sleeve absently, thanking their waiter as he sets a glass of water in front of her.

Spencer tries to focus on the conversations around him, he really does. But he finds himself distracted every time Parker moves next to him or laughs at someone else’s joke. This is a continued pattern throughout the evening, but he’s not exactly complaining. They sit close together as everyone eats, Spencer with his arm around the back of Parker’s chair, his fingers brushing along her shoulder every now and then. When they all part ways, Parker follows Spencer to his car and they ask about each other’s days on the drive home. He tells her about the case they’ve just closed this week - one close to home this time, thankfully. She tells him about Garcia dragging her all over creation for shopping until they found a look she felt right in.

A comfortable silence falls over them as they ride the elevator up to the apartment, and Parker yawns quietly as Spencer lets them in. She pads into her room to change while Spencer puts their leftovers away, and when he slips into his bedroom to change, he spies her through the crack in the bathroom door, staring at herself in the mirror and brushing her hands through her hair slowly. He changes into his pajamas and pads over, knocking at the door lightly and poking his head in when she hums approval.

They brush their teeth beside each other quietly, making eye contact in the mirror every now and then, and Parker follows him out, then pads into her room, where she collapses on the bed spread-eagle as Spencer hovers in the doorway. Laughing softly, he pads in and drops next to her, grinning when she grunts dramatically and rolls into him. Settling an arm around her, he brushes his fingers through her short hair, humming.

“Why’d you cut it?” He asks softly, glancing down at her. She shrugs a little, shifting to rest her cheek against his chest and staring out the window as it begins to rain. He waits patiently, knowing he’ll get his answer eventually.

“I just.. Didn’t wanna be that girl anymore.” She murmurs, draping an arm around him. “It was like.. Every time I looked in the mirror, I was still that girl, stuck in that awful house, and I couldn’t - I couldn’t stand it.” He can hear tears in her voice now, and he holds her a little closer, his heart breaking a little. “Penelope and I were walking past a salon and I looked in and saw this girl getting her hair cut and I just.. I had to do it.”

Spencer hums, nodding slowly. Looking down at Parker, he brushes her cheek, smiling gently when she looks up at him. “I think it looks great.” He murmurs sincerely, smiling a little when she does. She settles closer and he kisses her hair gently, shifting to pull the blanket up over them. Her breaths even out, and for the first time in a long time, there are no nightmares.

I knew who I was this morning, but I’ve changed a few times since then. - Author Lewis Carroll

#mine* #series: vienna #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x oc

[buckybabybaby]

Mr Hollywood (Chapter 14)

Summary: Bucky Barnes, an underpaid teaching assistant in a small English village, dreams of a movie career back in his home country of America. He finally gets the break he's always wanted, and if it wasn't for you, his best friend, he wouldn't have been able to take it.

But is that fact enough to save your friendship when it's tested by the pressures of Hollywood?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word count: 1842

Chapter summary: The city that never sleeps with the man that really needs to...

Warnings: None!

Previous: Chapter 13

Mr Hollywood Masterlist | Main Masterlist

*****

Waking up the next day, the first thing you're aware of is how warm you are. Cracking one eye open, it takes you a second to remember where you are, the bedroom looking different in the morning light. The rays shining through the thin curtains and the heavy quilt are a little too much now you're awake.

Attempting to move the duvet away, it comes as quite the shock when it resists, mumbling something from behind you, the weight across your centre tightening and pulling you back into the middle of the bed. Twisting your head to the side, you're met with a head full of messy brunette hair, and your body freezes at the realisation that Bucky has cuddled up to you in his sleep. Granted, just one arm over the covers, but it's still much more intimate than you've been with him before and you don't want him to know you're awake in case it becomes awkward. His breathing is slow and even against your shoulder, still dead to the world, and you relax back into his hold knowing how deeply he sleeps. He regularly slept through his alarm when you worked together, and many a time you had had to use the spare key to enter his flat and chivvy him out of bed.

Staring up at the ceiling, you allow yourself to enjoy his embrace. You feel well rested, the aches from yesterday gone and with the blankets folded down away from you, you're content in your comfortably hazy state.

At least you are until your tummy rumbles.

Bucky shuffles beside you, rolling onto his back and releasing you from his grip, allowing you to slip out of bed and tip toe out to the hall. Closing the door quietly as you leave him be, you take a moment to admire the sight, how peaceful he looks sleeping in his own bed for once. The first half of filming for season two has just wrapped, and it's no secret that the hours are just as brutal as they were for the first, the actors pushed to their limit in the pursuit of keeping to budget.

Bucky needs all the sleep he can get.

Alone in the unfamiliar house, you slowly walk down the corridor, not wanting to open the wrong door and invade someone’s privacy. Especially not on your first day here. Following the stairs down to the next floor, you find the kitchen, an airy open plan space with the living room off to the right.

A box of your favourite cereal sits on the counter near the fridge, the sticky note with your name written in Bucky's handwriting stuck on the side bringing a smile to your face.

“How did you sleep?”

Whipping around as the voice startles you, you find Sophia stood at the table with her plate of toast and orange juice.

“Don't skulk around like that!”

“I'm not skulking, looks like you've got something to hide. Was the bed comfy enough?”

Turning back to make your breakfast, you ignore her and her smirk.

“Fine. Don't tell me. But just so you know, the bathroom is in-between Bucky's room and Day's so we wouldn't be able to hear anything if you wanted-”

“Sophia! Stop, please. And anyway,” You point at the clock. “Why are you up so early?”

“I'm not that tired actually, thanks to you keeping Benjamin entertained on the plane. What about you?”

“Hungry.”

“I'll let you get back to your food then.”

The breakfast bar seats are surprisingly comfortable, and you happily sit in the kitchen checking your phone as you eat and wait for Bucky to finally make it out of bed.

“Y/N.” His voice is scratchy when he walks in. “There you are.”

“Morning.” You push a bowl towards him as he takes a seat opposite you. “I poured you some cornflakes.”

“You should stay over more often,” He grins as he adds milk and takes a spoonful.

“And you should lend me your tops more often. This is the softest thing I've ever worn.”

Gaze skimming up your legs to where his t-shirt falls across your top half, he pauses halfway through a mouthful. Something in the air changes as he puts down his cutlery, breakfast forgotten as he stands up again.

You can't look away as he approaches. “Bucky?”

He shakes his head. “I could get used to this. You, here with me. Waking up together.”

“Bucky.”

“Well, if you stayed in bed long enough, that is,” He goes on, coming to a stop before you as you slide off your seat.

“And I could really get used to seeing you in my clothes.” His fingers skim the hem, centimetres away from your thighs. “You're so pretty in this.”

“I'm not,” You protest weakly.

He chuckles. “Still so shy with compliments. I guess I'll just have to keep repeating them until you believe me.”

Winding his arm around your waist, he brings you between his legs and you look down, chest tight.

He tilts his head to catch your eye again, “Y/N, I want to-”

The door opens behind you and you step away from Bucky instinctively, not missing the way his hands reach out for you.

Dayton's eyes narrow as he assesses the situation he's walked in on. “Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Bucky spits at the same time, glaring at his brother as you wish you could become invisible.

Shifting your weight from one foot to another as Dayton grabs a glass from the cupboard and fills it up with water, your sides tingle with the ghost of Bucky's touch.

“Well, better get this to Sophia.”

Dayton winks at you as he leaves, making you even more flustered.

When he's gone Bucky's attention is back on you but the moment has past, and before the tension becomes to much you change the subject.

“Erm, if you have nothing else important to do, could you come shopping with me? Or not. It's fine if you're busy, I can go alone.”

“Of course I'll come, I said I would. And we can't have you getting lost on your first day can we?”  You nod as you laugh at the thought. “I'll go get dressed.”

*****

Getting ready doesn't take very long as you can only put yesterdays outfit back on. Standing next to Bucky by the front door as he fixes his hat, you stare at your reflection in the mirror and wish you'd worn something more stylish for the flight over. Next to him in his bespoke outfit you feel plain and uninteresting.

You feel even more under-dressed when you hear a set of footsteps coming down from the second floor, and then there in front of you is the woman you've heard so much about. Seeming like she's just stepped out of a fashion magazine, her immaculate hair and perfectly fitting dress-suit has you shrinking away, intimidated despite her friendly demeanour.

“Aren't you going to introduce me, Bucky?”

“Oh, yeah, 'course. Mum, this is my-err, my, my Y/N. Y/N.”

You flush, smiling at her through your embarrassment. “Nice to meet you, Mrs Barnes.”

She doesn't notice how tense you've become, kissing one cheek then the other. “So lovely to finally meet you Y/N. Oh! You're even more beautiful in real life! And it's Winnifred.”

Bucky giggles as you look to him helplessly.

“George! Come meet Y/N.”

Mr Barnes trails in, just as welcoming as his wife. The resemblance to his sons is remarkable even with the softness of laughter lines added to his face over the years.

He clasps your hand in both of his. “Glad you finally found some time to visit. Bucky's been excited for your arrival all week. Hasn't stopped going on about it.”

“Dad,” Bucky groans as you rise your eyebrows over at him, amused.

“As we all have, obviously.” His dad tries to save himself.

“Right, well we'll have to leave you kids alone now, work calls,” Winnifred apologies as her phone buzzes and she grabs her bag.

“Kids?” Bucky mutters with a roll of his eyes.

“You'll always be my baby, darling,” She says, flicking the brim of his hat so it falls off and she can ruffle his hair.

Smoothing it back down as he blushes, he opens the door. “All right, definitely time for you to leave!”

“See you two later. Oh, we should all have lunch! Not today though.” She thinks as George coaxes her out the house. “I'll text you our schedule and we'll make it work.”

Bucky's dad waves back at the two of you. “See you both soon.”

The door swings shut behind them and Bucky turns to you, grinning bashfully.

“Sorry they're so full on.”

“They're very sweet.”

“Suppose they are. I owe them a lot.” He collects his hat from the floor and resits it upon his head. “Ready to hit the shops?”

*****

Shopping is exhausting. Not only is New York enormous, with every store possible spread across miles of avenues and boulevards, but you've never shopped from American brands before, so you have no idea which one to start with. Bucky isn't much help, you have to pull him away from the designer shops more than once during the day. He says it's not a problem, he can pay, but that's the last thing you want since he paid for you to come over. You don't let him get lunch either, insisting on trying out a little toasted sandwich van parked near one of the entrance gates for Central Park.

Finding a bench near a fountain, you sit close together and tear into the paper bag full of melted cheese and hot vegetables between warm bread.

Once the food is finished, you watch the other tourists and native New Yorkers for a while. After so many years of daydreaming about visiting, it's surreal to actually be here, the three week break Bucky's managed to bag for himself stretches before you like the summers holidays did when you where a child. Compared to the snatched moments you've shared in the last year, it feels endless.

This is the happiest you've been for months. “Thank you for bringing me.”

“Thank you for forgiving me so I could.”

You watch the water cascade down the statues together for a few more minutes, arms brushing, until you can no longer take it.

“Bucky?” He hums. You take a deep breath, acting braver than you feel. “Dayton thinks we should talk. Do you think he's right?”

“I think he's an interfering piece of-”

“No you don't. And you're not answering the question.”

Bucky sighs, repositioning himself on the bench so he can look at you directly, his face a mix of emotions. “I wanted to talk this morning, before Dayton barged in like the-.”

You interrupt. “How about we talk now instead?”

“All right.” Standing up, he holds out his hand for you to take, squeezing it gently when you let him help you up. “Come on, I know the perfect place to go.”

*****

Chapter 15

Sorry I left it there... ;) As always, thank you for reading! <3

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #buckybabybaby #Mr Hollywood

[peraltasames]

don’t go sharing your devotion

requested by anonymous - 26. A jealous kiss

read on ao3

Amy wakes to the incessant beeping of the alarm clock on the nightstand, programmed to go off a few minutes before the backup ones on her phone.

While leaning over to hit snooze, feeling oddly sleep-deprived, she realizes a few things.

Despite it being Monday, she’s tangled up in blue sheets instead of white ones, meaning she’s violated her rule of always staying at her own apartment on Sunday nights to ensure that she’s well-rested for the beginning of the new week. She recalls being coerced into staying one more night after an incredible weekend (she hasn’t actually gone home at all in three days). She also recalls staying up way too late last night, reinforcing her reason for the Sunday night rule - a rule that Jake despises and attempts to break every week with about a fifty percent success rate.

She does not understand why she’s alone in the blue sheets when the sole reason that she sleeps in a less comfortable bed in a less clean apartment and gets dressed for work out of a duffel bag half the time is so that she doesn’t wake up alone now that she knows there’s something so much better. In a matter of weeks, waking up to messy brown hair, a warm chest pressed against her back and soft snoring in her ear has become a crucial part of her nearly everyday routine, and her days never seem to go quite as well without it.

Amy doesn’t have much time to lay there pouting about the absence of her boyfriend in bed; before she can call out his name and figure out why on earth he’s awake before her, he’s strolling in, wide awake - already dressed, even - with a mug in each hand and a broad grin on his face.

“Happy Tactical Village day!”

Of course, this would be the only logical explanation for Jake being up before seven. Frankly, she’s surprised she didn’t remember sooner. Amy smiles, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Who’s the character this year?”

“Vladimir Smirnov,” Jake says confidently in a terrible Russian accent, “a former spy seeking revenge from the mob boss that killed the woman that turned him over to the light and taught him how to love.”

Amy laughs at the familiarity of it all, leaving the warmth of the bed to stride over to him and wrap her arms loosely around his neck.

“Definitely better than Rex Buckingham. I think Vic Kovac was the sexiest, though.”

Jake’s eyes widen comically, his hands stilling on her waist. “You were into that?”

She kisses his cheek and strolls off to the bathroom before he can ask any more questions about her formerly bottled-up feelings.

-

“So, we’re paired the Seven-Six this year,” Terry says to the squad as they enter the village, reading from a piece of paper.

“Nice, their arrest numbers were crazy last year,” Rosa says approvingly.

Amy looks around the room, which has no discernible differences from last year’s layout. The hostages and perps are getting ready in the corner while most of the other squads begin to prepare for the course.

“Oh my god, Jake Peralta!”

Amy whips her head around at the voice, higher-pitched than her own and unfamiliar. Standing in front of a group of people that she recognizes to be the Seven-Six is an absolutely stunning woman with shiny light brown hair falling just past her shoulders and piercing blue eyes.

“Katherine, it’s been forever,” Jake says with a small laugh, stepping towards her as she pulls him into a tight hug. “I didn’t know you were with the Seven-Six now.”

The woman - Katherine - releases Jake, still holding him at an arm’s length.

“Yeah, it’s awesome other than the cost of living in Manhattan,” Katherine quips. “You’re still with the Nine-Nine?”

Jake finally turns back to the squad for a moment, which has gradually dispersed to the point that only Amy is still looking at him (and Rosa looking at her with what’s she’s sure is a knowing smirk).

“Yeah! These are my coworkers, Detective Diaz and Detective Santiago.”

Amy forces a polite grin, trying not to care that he referred to her as a colleague - it’s a terribly petty thing to care about, something that she never would care about if it weren’t for the beautiful woman still smiling at him.

“Nice to meet you…sorry, what was it?”

“Detective Katherine Porter,” she states confidently, extending a hand to shake Amy’s firmly. “Peralta and I go way back. We were friends in the academy and dated for a few months right after we started as beat cops.”

The haven’t had the exes talk yet, so Amy shouldn’t be surprised. It isn’t like she thought Jake never had girlfriends - she’s met a few since she’s known him, Sophia being the longest relationship she can recall - but never has she felt the ugly emotion rising in her chest right now. There were many times she felt a tinge of jealousy towards Sophia (like, every time he kissed her or held her hand or, to be honest, even mentioned her name) but now she feels a possessive instinct that is both new and entirely unwelcome.

The gears in her brain must be whirring a mile a minute, her face easily giving away her inner thoughts, because Rosa pulls her away under the guise of “looking at some guns” while Jake continues to chat with Katherine.

“Santiago, you are so jealous.”

Amy wants to object immediately, but even if the gun is just a paintball gun, Rosa holding one is a menacing enough sight that she doesn’t dare lie to her.

“I’m - maybe a little - she’s gorgeous-“

“Amy,” Rosa says sternly. “Jake is obsessed with you. You know it, I know it, anyone who steps within ten feet of him knows it. Who cares about some dumb ex he dated ten years ago?”

“I don’t care.” Amy grabs the nearest gun and fires it at one of the targets, landing a perfect bullseye. “Let’s just get ready for the course, alright?”

Much of the next few minutes consist of Amy busying herself with firearms and trying to avoid watching Katherine follow Jake around the village and laugh at everything Jake says and - god, why is she touching his arm so much?

She’s pretty sure Jake is oblivious of any jealousy she may be harbouring, because when Katherine slips away for a moment he turns to grin at Amy. He’s holding up a huge gun and pretending to shoot at nothing in particular and smiling like a little kid at her, not at Katherine. Still, the feeling lingers.

It lingers when they start the drill and she watches him bust into a room and take down three perps in one swift movement, when he pumps his fist victoriously and turns to high-five her, when Katherine re-emerges out of nowhere immediately afterwards to congratulate him on beating the course record again and hug him again.

Amy would be appreciating his fitted navy t-shirt and the confident aura he’s radiating even if it weren’t for the jealous streak she’s experiencing, but the culmination of everything is enough for her to abandon her attempts to be a “chill” girlfriend who isn’t intimidated by gorgeous women her boyfriend has slept with.

“I’m just gonna borrow Jake for a second, if you don’t mind-“ She grabs his hand and tugs him away from a very confused Katherine, ignoring Jake’s raised eyebrows as she pulls him into the nearest empty room and shuts the door.

“Ames, what’s going-“

She grabs him by the material of his t-shirt and kisses him, feeling him stumble backwards in shock until his back hits the wall and his hands find her waist. When she feels his attempts to pull away, she presses herself closer against him and slides her tongue into his mouth, knowing this will incapacitate him for at least another minute or two.

“Amy,” he finally manages to pull away long enough to say, panting slightly. “Are you okay? Someone could walk in.”

She drops her hands from his hair, taking a small step back and shifting her weight awkwardly.

“Is it a crime to kiss my boyfriend after he just set the course record?”

“It is if you’re Amy Santiago and you have a very definite set of rules for workplace PDA.”

She has been enforcing said rules quite regularly when he tries to hold her hand in the break room during their lunch or steal a kiss in the evidence lockup, despite her constant urge to reciprocate.

“Well, maybe I missed you since you’ve been so busy all day-“

The look on his face quickly informs her that she’s given herself away, somewhere between shock and smugness.

“Hold on. Are you...jealous?”

Amy crosses her arms defensively and opens her mouth to bark out a defense, but she can’t find the words to get her out of this one.

“Maybe a little.” Jake starts laughing, and she hits his arm and furrows her brow. “Don’t laugh at me! I’m only human, Jake, obviously I noticed your beautiful ex-girlfriend flirting with you all day.”

He shakes his head apologetically, stepping forward to grab her hands in his. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I just - there’s no threat there, Ames. I dated her over ten years ago.”

She softens a little, squeezing his hands.

“She just seemed so into you, and I didn’t wanna be the crazy jealous girlfriend, but-“

“She asked me to go to dinner before the drill started.”

Amy raises an eyebrow. “Is there a ‘but’ coming?”

“Is there a ‘but’ coming, title of your-”

“Jake,” she cuts him off with a stern look.

He laughs at his own joke as he tangles their fingers together.

“But I told her I’m not interested, that I’m very happily dating someone else, and she backed off. She’s just an old friend, I have no interest in her or anyone else that’s not you, okay?”

He stares at her for a few moments with the same soft, loving look that has made her melt more than once before, until she finally nods and lets out a sigh, running her hand up his bicep.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeats, ducking down to kiss her again. “Also, even though it’s crazy to think I would ever wanna date her when I have you, it doesn’t make you crazy. Remember Tactical Village ‘14, when I followed you and Teddy around all day? I was straight-up obsessed.”

Amy lets out a soft laugh, remembering the days of their blossoming feelings with quiet reverence and a small pang of regret that she didn’t grow to understand her feelings earlier.

“I would’ve gone out with you if you had asked first, dummy.”

“Ugh, that’s what Charles said!” He exclaims, pulling his hand away to slap his forehead. “We suck at timing.”

“Speaking of bad timing…I probably shouldn’t have tried to make out with you at a work event,” Amy says, red creeping onto her cheeks.

“You’re right, we should get out of here.”

Her eyes widen incredulously. “Jake! We have to go back to work after this!”

“We also have a lunch break and my car-”

“Absolutely not.”

She tries to walk out, her stride interrupted by a hand gently tugging her arm and spinning her back around, followed by lips pressing against hers.

When she sighs happily, he pulls away to survey her expression.

“Can I take that as a yes?”

“It’s a maybe,” she murmurs teasingly against his lips.

“Does the fact that I cleaned all the candy wrappers out of the backseat sway your vote?”

(It does.)

#jake x amy #peraltiago #kiss prompts #b99 fic #i wrote this so fast sry if there are mistakes lmao #more early relationship woooo #myfics

[zigsexual]

sophia (drake/liam)

note: this is just absolute fluff brought on by the thought of liam being a dad (thanks to the royal heir for that one) and my headcanon family for future driam as per the deu (driam extended universe) which you can read more about here. its literally just fluff and also some riley and maxwell because lets be real i cant leave them out of anything.

summary: so. they have a baby now.

word count: 2100+

• • •

It’s only been a few days, and yet Drake is certain he’s seen a year’s worth of change in both himself and Liam since they brought Sophia home.

It’s not just the expected neuroticisms, although those are certainly obstacles of their own. Drake’s already found a fully armed guard standing watch at their daughter’s crib on two separate occasions, and he had to actually step in when Liam attempted to call the Minister of Health at four in the morning because he couldn’t get Sophia to stop crying.

He’d foreseen the anxieties, the shifts in routine. It’s the love — the overwhelming, all-consuming love — that takes him by surprise. He’d heard time and time again how much one could love a child, and now he knows now exactly how true those words can be, but what he hadn’t foreseen was how much more he could love Liam.

That first night, Sophia in her bassinet by their bed, the two of them standing over her and marveling at her tiny features, Drake had wrapped his arm around Liam’s back and said, “I love you,” and he’d never meant it more in his life.

He lingers in doorways now, taking a moment to watch Liam with her before he knows anyone’s there. The way he smiles, the way he sings to her, the way his whole expression softens when she’s in his arms — Drake can’t get enough of it.

“She looks like you,” he tells Liam while they’re getting her dressed in the morning. Liam smiles, first at him, then at her.

“It’s just the hair,” he says, brushing a finger gently through the dark tufts atop her head.

“No,” Drake steps closer, watching as Sophia’s big eyes move to his face, one hand in her mouth. “It’s all of her. She looks like you.” He rests a hand on Liam’s shoulder, Liam leaning into him as he does. “And the world could always use more of you.”

Liam cries, because that’s pretty much all he does now.

The first people who come to visit, outside of family (and Drake had to put his foot down on that when Savannah tried to sneak Bertrand in), are Riley and Maxwell. They come with gifts and laughter and the noise of much more than just two people, already a crescendo of delight when they spot the new princess for the first time.

“Hey baby girl!” Riley grins, sweeping Sophia into her arms as soon as she’s within reach and kissing her forehead. “Look at you.”

Liam still isn’t good at letting anyone else hold her, perpetually terrified of what might happen if she’s not with them, so Drake squeezes his hand in reassurance when he notices his anxious fidgeting. Liam offers him a grateful smile.

Maxwell is at Riley’s side, looking down at Sophia with the same kind of wonder, the two of them falling into soft, cooing voices as she opens and closes her tiny hand.

Riley is entranced, tracing the skin of one plump cheek, eyes a bit damp. Maxwell looks back over at Liam and Drake, beaming. “If you ever need babysitters…”

“Trust me, you’ll be the first to know,” Liam says, although Drake is certain Liam would sooner abdicate the throne than leave his daughter’s side for a day. “Are the two of you considering having kids at all?”

Riley’s smile falters for the briefest second, and she lets her gaze fall back to Sophia’s face. Maxwell slips his arm around her almost protectively, answering with a practiced, “Nah, we’re a two-person job. Any more and we compromise the intel.”

He and Liam ask them to be the godparents, and Riley promptly bursts into the tears she’d been trying to keep at bay. “It was the obvious choice,” Liam says, another lie; they’d had a few arguments on whether or not Leo deserved the honor (he didn’t) and if Savannah would be offended for being passed over (she was, and when Drake had politely reminded her he didn’t want his daughter growing up in a broken home, she’d seethed that her and Bertrand were working it out).

At night, he and Liam sit on the edge of their bed and watch Sophia sleep, her lips a perfect pink bow, one hand curled into a fist. Every time she so much as breathes, it’s somehow amazing, Liam grabbing his hand at the slightest movement, enthralled.

“We did that,” he says, looking at Drake in awe. “That’s our baby.”

“Well, we didn’t entirely —”

“Oh, hush,” Liam admonishes, eyes still sparkling. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” Drake answers, leaning in against Liam just a touch more, folding their fingers together a bit tighter. “I know.”

“I wish she could always see the world like this,” Liam says softly, “New and exciting and welcoming. I wish she didn’t have to grow up.”

“She’s got us,” Drake says, “She’ll have it pretty good.”

Liam smiles at him, presses a kiss to his forehead. “That’s true. She does have us.”

Warmth blooms in Drake’s heart, and he wraps his other arm around Liam’s back, resting his head on his shoulder. “What do you think she’ll be like?”

“I don’t know.” Liam thinks. “Stubborn, maybe?”

“Hey,” Drake lifts his head to shoot Liam a look of mock reproach. “Are you talking about her, or me?”

“Her, obviously,” Liam can’t help but smile. Drake makes a face at him.

“Well, if she ends up crying all the time, we’ll at least know which parent is notto blame.”

“I don’t cry all the time!”

“Just every day for the past nine months.”

Liam frowns, but it’s more of a pout than anything. “That doesn’t count — there were extenuating circumstances.”

Drake smiles, reaching his hand up to cup Liam’s cheek, thumb running slowly across his skin. “I love you.”

Liam raises an eyebrow. “Don’t try to distract me. It won’t work.”

“Shut up,” Drake shifts closer, eyes locked on Liam’s. “I am absolutely crazy about you.”

“What are you trying to do?” Liam asks, head tilted curiously to the side now.

“Nothing, I just…” Drake drops his hand, still looking out at Liam fondly. “I was just thinking… I mean, that’s our baby. You and me.” He folds his fingers back in against Liam’s, squeezing his hand. “There’s no one else I’d rather do this with.”

Liam kisses him, deep and slow until Drake pulls back, laughing. “Not in front of her!”

“She’s asleep,” Liam whispers, leaning back in to press another kiss to his jaw. “She’ll never know.”

“You’ll scar her for life,” Drake says, even as he tilts his head back when Liam’s hand comes up to his hair. “This is what she’ll talk about in therapy for years to come.”

“What a lucky therapist.”

“Liam!”

Liam sits back, smiling. “I love you too.”

Drake elbows him. “Stupid prince.”

“That’s you now, actually.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

Liam brings their joined hands up to his lips, pressing a kiss to Drake’s fingers as he says, “But you’re my stupid prince,” which somehow makes Drake feel disgustingly happy.

Sophia wakes up at 3AM that night, crying so loudly that the both of them jolt up immediately, wide-eyed and frantic. Liam hurries to get her bottle while Drake takes her in his arms, rocking her gently to no avail. When Liam returns, she’s still screaming, and Drake passes her off to him so he can try to coax the bottle into her mouth.

She fights against it at first, but then seems to settle into routine, her big round eyes watching them both closely as she drinks.

“Oh, thank god,” Drake says, reaching one arm around Liam while the other hand comes up to stroke her tufts of hair. Liam settles in against him, warm from sleep, blinking blearily.

“Knock on wood,” he manages, gently tilting the bottle back towards her when she bats at it with one small fist. “I suppose we’ll have to get used to the baby alarm clock sooner or later.”

“There are worse alarm clocks to have.”

Liam smiles, but Drake isn’t sure if it’s at him or at her, and he finds that he doesn’t mind it either way. Sophia’s eyes flick between the two of them, curious and bright, and he wonders what kind of thoughts her fledgling mind has to offer.

“Hey sweetheart,” he says, voice lowered slightly, marveling at the way her head fits in the palm of his hand. “Were you just hungry? Are you feeling better now?”

Her mouth goes slack around the bottle as she watches him, and Liam says, “Oh, she’s listening!” with so much unfettered joy that Drake can’t even find it within himself to tease him for it. Instead, he turns to Liam and grins, and Liam beams back at him like they’ve just cracked the secret to eternal happiness.

Sophia, now devoid of the attention she had previously been the center of, starts crying again, knocking her bottle onto the floor with one flailing arm.

“Shit,” The smile falls off Drake’s face. “We broke her.”

“What do we do?” Liam says, looking at him frantically, doing his best to try and rock Sophia back into some sort of complacency. She denies his every attempt, only wailing louder each time Liam tries to cuddle her quiet.

“Does she need to be changed?” Drake asks, and Liam says, “Oh god, I don’t know. When was the last time we changed her?”

They both wait for the other to offer the answer, but neither does.

“Christ,” Drake runs a hand through his hair anxiously. “We haven’t even had her a month and we’ve fucked it up.”

Liam looks pale. “Should I call her doctor?”

“What is he supposed to do?”

“Give her medicine?”

“For what?” Drake stares at him. “Crying?”

Liam stares back, a stunted sort of insanity across his features. “Yes.”

Drake takes a deep breath. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” He reaches towards Liam, arms outstretched. “Let me try.”

The second he gets close, Liam pulls away, leaning Sophia up against his shoulder with one hand on her back. “No. I can do this.”

“Come on, look at me,” Drake sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose as Sophia reaches a new decibel level. “She’s gonna wake up the whole palace, just let me —”

“I’m going to fix our baby,” Liam says firmly, eyes filled with a delirious determination. “We’re her parents, we’re supposed to know how to do this. I can do this.”

“Listen, babe, I’m sure you can, but what if I went and got her blanket, and we tried —”

Suddenly, Sophia lets out a profound burp before going quiet against Liam’s neck, sniffling into his shirt. They both stare at her for a moment, then at each other, blinking slowly.

“Well,” Liam says, “I think we fixed her.”

“She definitely threw up on you a little bit.”

“Did she?” Liam cranes his neck to the side, then frowns. “Oh, she did.”

“Casualties of war,” Drake laughs softly.

Liam passes Sophia over to him so he can head to the bathroom to clean up, and Sophia nestles against Drake’s chest as soon as he has her, one fat cheek pressed against him as she closes her eyes.

He rocks her gently, turning and watching as Liam shrugs off his shirt and turns on the sink faucet. “That’s your dad,” he whispers, not wanting to break her out of whatever spell sleep has cast on her. “He’s pretty great.”

He can feel her chest rise and fall against his, and he presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Actually, he’s the best. We’re lucky to have him, aren’t we?”

Liam emerges from the bathroom with tired eyes, yawning before he can stop himself. He runs a hand through his messed-up hair, his eyelids already heavy, and manages, “Do you want me to stay up with her…?”

“She’s asleep,” Drake says. “I think we’re out of the woods.”

“Perfect,” Liam answers, dropping a kiss against his temple as he passes. “Then let’s put her down and get back in bed.”

When Sophia is back in her bassinet, peaceful and still, Drake slips into the bed next to Liam and nestles against him, sighing softly when Liam drapes an arm over his shoulders.

“We’re good parents, right?” Drake asks Liam tentatively. “I mean, she’s going to grow up normal and everything?”

“Mhm,” Liam murmurs, too tired to assuage his fears. Drake rolls onto his back, staring up at the darkness of the ceiling for a long minute before he reaches across to hold Liam’s hand.

“We are,” Liam finally whispers, blinking his eyes open for just a second to meet Drake’s. “We’re great and she’s great and you’re the love of my life.”

Drake smiles, pulling Liam’s hand up and kissing his knuckles. “Goodnight, Liam.”

“Okay,” Liam says sleepily.

And, of course, not five minutes later, Sophia lets out a wail so loud one could swear it woke even the kitchen staff.

#driam #drake x liam #trr fanfic #playchoices fanfic #trr #my fic #deu #liam is a sweetheart who means well and has no domestic skills whatsoever on account of being a prince #drake is just an idiot #so they make a good pair naturally #sophia is smarter than both of them and they know it

[oh-ranpo]

more than a pretty face. (7)

Pairing: Ben Hardy x OC

AN: This story is nearing its end, but I appreciate all the love that you guys have given it! My first attempt at an OC, and while I loved the originality, I’m not sure that I’ll be doing another one anytime soon. I hope you guys like this chapter. Let me know what you think!

The next morning, Charlie woke with a start. There were a few seconds after she first opened her eyes that she forgot where she was. There was a sliver of light shining through the bedroom curtains, providing enough illumination for her to make out the room and put the pieces of last night together.

She had come to Joe’s place after flying back in from California. Sophia had been here. Ben was upset. They slept together. Again. Then, she remembered that she had gone out and snuck her bottle of wine back into the room, so her and Ben could get drunk together. She couldn’t remember much after that, but judging by the feel of the sheets on her bare skin, she knew that their night hadn’t ended there.

Once she got her bearings, Charlie became increasingly aware of a weight draped across her abdomen, and she was a bit startled to find Ben’s arm holding her to his chest. She knew that was something that happened unconsciously, but an alarm started going off in her head. This is too close, she thought to herself. I can’t allow him to be this close. Sure, they had slept together, but cuddling was a new level of intimacy that she did not want to face.

Slowly, and doing her best not to wake the sleeping boy beside her, Charlie lifted Ben’s arm and crawled out from under it. She gently placed it back down on the bed, and froze when a low groan fell from his lips. She paused next to the bed as she waited to see if he was going to wake up or not, but when he didn’t make any other sounds, she quickly grabbed her clothes and made her way to the bathroom.

Her head was pounding as she slipped her hoody back on, and when she glanced in the mirror, she cringed. Her make up from the day before was completely gone, and her hair was a mess. She did her best to comb through her hair with her fingers, but it did little to diminish its ratty appearance. After a few more minutes of trying to make herself presentable, Charlie exited the bathroom and started towards the living room. She wasn’t sure if anyone else was still there, besides Joe, but she took the initiative and started brewing a pot of coffee.

“I’m a little offended that the two of you couldn’t take a break to come and sing with us last night.”

The sound of Joe’s voice made Charlie jump as she hit the power button of the coffee maker. She hadn’t heard him enter the room, but she spun around and glared at him.

“How is it possible that you move without making any noise?” She huffed, taking in the smug appearance of her best friend. He looked way better off than she did, but she was sure that he hadn’t had a night quite as eventful as hers.

“I wish I could say the same about you,” he retorted, giving her a sly wink that made her blush. She knew what he was insinuating and she felt a little nauseous. The alarm that had started in her head when she woke up with Ben’s arm around her only got louder.

“Oh, shut up, Joe.”

Joe laughed at her embarrassment, and moved to grab a couple coffee mugs out of the cabinet above the sink.  

“You know, I think it’s cute. You and Ben pining after one another, but only being willing to sleep together instead of admitting your true feelings. It’s literally the best soap opera I’ve seen in a while.”

Charlie rolled her eyes, but continued keeping her focus on the brewing liquid in front of her.  

“For someone older than me, you sure are naïve. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that there are no feelings there with Ben and I.”

Memories from the night before flashed through her head, and she remembered how pleasant it had been to sit on the bed next to Ben, drinking wine and complaining about past failed relationships. It had been the first full conversation the two of them had had without fighting, and Charlie couldn’t deny that it had been nice. She had learned a lot about Ben, and some of her previous assumptions about him had been diminished. That didn’t change the fact that she could never actually see a relationship with him. Things were too complicated.

“Whatever you say, Charlie. But someday, when I give a toast at your wedding, I’m going to remember this conversation.”

Before Charlie could retort, the coffee machine dinged, indicating that it was finished, and she reached forward to pour herself a cup. Joe held him cup out for her to fill up as well and then they headed into the living room. Charlie was surprised to see Rami spread out on the couch and Gwilym set up on an air mattress, and she felt a twinge of guilt. Her apartment was only a few blocks away, and she could have stayed there allowing one of these two to share a bed with Ben.  

“G’morning,” Gwilym greeted, leaning up on his arm to look up at Joe and Charlie. Charlie gave him a small smile, and Rami sat up on the couch to make room for the two of them to join him.

“Were you successful in helping cure Ben’s woes last night?” Rami asked Charlie teasingly, causing her to roll her eyes. Of course, she was going to get teased about this again. The fact that she had never returned to the party was a dead giveaway on what had happened.

“Fuck off, Rami,” a new voice replied, and Charlie’s gaze turned towards the doorway. Ben was making his way into the room, putting his shirt on as he walked. Charlie caught a quick glimpse of his abs before he pulled it all the way down, and she felt her mouth go dry. Ben took a seat on the corner of Gwilym’s air mattress, his eyes never once meeting hers.

“What time does your flight leave?” Joe asked, turning the attention away from Charlie and Ben. Charlie was extremely grateful for the change in subject.

“3:00pm. So we should probably get to the airport around 1-ish,” Gwilym replied, and Charlie glanced over at the clock hanging on the wall. It was already almost 11:00am.  

“Great. We can all grab some lunch before you head out then. Charlie, did you want to join us?” Joe’s brown eyes turned to her and she shook her head. She had so much that she needed to get done before she was forced into returning to work the next day. She had been lucky enough to have some vacation time up until this point, but Ben and Gwilym leaving signified that it was coming to an end.

“Sorry, I have to get home. But I hope you guys have a safe trip back.” She gave Gwilym a bright smile, and when her head turned to Ben, he was looking down at his phone. Her stomach dropped slightly at his lack of acknowledgement, but it didn’t come as much of a surprise.

“Well, it was nice seeing you Charlie. I suspect it won’t be long before we see each other again. What with the Critics’ Choice coming up soon,” Gwilym replied, standing from where he was laying. Charlie stood up too, and allowed Gwilym to pull her into a tight hug. Ben still made no movements, so she downed a little bit more of her coffee and then went to place the mug in the sink in the kitchen. She made sure that her phone was in her pocket before re-entering the living room and starting towards the door.

“I’ll see you guys later,” she called as she pulled the door open and stepped into the hall. She heard a chorus of voices saying goodbye, but one voice was prominently missing. Charlie tried to convince herself that she didn’t care.

On her walk home, Charlie progressively started feeling angrier and angrier over the way Ben had treated her. Sure, they were nowhere near friends, but she had been there for him when Sophia had left. She had listened to him complain about her for over an hour, and didn’t complain once. She had even slept with him to help him forget, and yet he still acted like he could care less. Even though she knew the situation, it still bothered her.

It doesn’t matter, she assured herself as she got closer to her apartment. He’s going back to London, and when he comes back, it will be like nothing ever happened between you. She promised herself that it was never going to happen again.

For the rest of the day, Charlie kept herself busy by doing things around her apartment. She unpacked her suitcase, did a load of laundry, and straightened up all the rooms. After a couple of hours, she sat down on her couch and pulled her laptop into her lap. When she checked the time in the corner of the screen, she saw that it was already half past two. Gwilym and Ben would be on their way back to England by now. She shook the thought from her head. Ben Hardy wasn’t going to occupy one more second of her thoughts.

x.x.x

Ben had been looking forward to getting back to England ever since Sophia had broken his heart. There was something about the city of New York that was now forever tainted because of his experience. He only had a couple of days before he would be heading back to the States, but he could enjoy his time back home as much as possible while he was there.

“I really am surprised that Charlie didn’t come,” Joe mused as they walked through the airport as a group towards Gwilym and Ben’s terminal. “She always comes to say goodbye when Rami or I leave.”

Ben felt a tug in his chest at the sound of Charlie’s name, but pushed it away. He hadn’t been that upset when Charlie said that she couldn’t come. He hadn’t really expected her to. He knew where they stood, and considering they weren’t friends, it didn’t make a difference whether she was there or not.  

“You know, Ben, you were kind of cold to her this morning. I don’t think I even saw you look at her once,” Gwilym commented. This caused Ben’s eyes to jerk upwards as he glared at the taller man.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, man. I don’t pretend to understand what the hell is going on between the two of you, but at the very least, you are sleeping together. That warrants some kind of acknowledgement, right?” Joe added. Ben rolled his eyes.

“You guys, it’s nothing. It’s not like Charlie likes me or anything. It was just something that happened a couple of times. No big deal.”

Ben saw Joe and Gwilym exchange a look, but neither of them said anything more. Ben felt a little defensive, but he tried to not let it show. They didn’t understand.  

When they finally approached their gate, Joe gave them each a hug goodbye, before turning and heading back in the direction they had just came. Gwilym gave Ben a quick pat on the shoulder as they started boarding.

Ben wasn’t sure why, but right before he made his way through the tunnel towards the plane, he turned to look behind him. He knew that there was no one there, but this was one of the first times in a while that there wasn’t anyone there to send him off. His stomach dropped when he thought about how Charlie might have looked, giving him a small wave as he disappeared. He quickly pulled himself out of his trance and continued following Gwilym to their seats.

Ben’s phone vibrated once he was seated, and he quickly pulled it out, a glimmer of hope igniting in his chest. He wasn’t sure where it came from, but it was quickly extinguished when he saw that it was just a message in the group chat he had with the other boys. Gwilym laughed as he read it, but Ben just locked his phone and set it down in his lap.

The last time he had been on a plane, Charlie’s elbow had been pressed against his arm the entire flight. At the time he found it annoying, but now he was a little disappointed when he knew that he couldn’t look over and see the concentrated look on her face as she read through one of her magazines. Gwilym was quiet, which Ben was thankful for, but it also allowed him too much time with his thoughts.  

There is nothing there, he scolded himself repeatedly. Absolutely no feelings at all.  

So, why did he suddenly feel so frustrated?

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#ben hardy #ben hardy x oc #ben hardy angst #ben hardy fic #ben hardy story #bohemian rhapsody #angst #love #story #fanfic #more than a pretty face story

[vore-scientist]

Yonah’s “alarm clock” when sleeping with Sophia in his stomach

Hopefully I’ll be able to describe this in story but I’ve mentioned it before. 

Obviously with Sophia’s curse only lasting 4 hours, Yonah can’t sleep through the night with her inside him. Either he or Sophia must wake up before it wears off to re-activate it. Or to spit her up. (When awake Sophia can feel it wearing off. Her whole body gets all pins and needles. Similar to the alarm really but all over her skin)

So he built an “alarm” to wake him and Sophia up. It’s an hourglass that will lasts 3 hours and 45 minutes.

Now you might wonder “what if they are deep asleep and don’t hear it? What if they sleep through it?”

They can’t sleep through this. It emits a psychic pulse that kinda, slaps the brain. Jolting someone who is asleep awake and makes their brain feel those pins and needles like one’s foot being asleep. Just not the same numbness.

Yonah constructed this out of an hourglass and a powerful little object that is, or was, a psychic grenade. An Emerald crystal that when smashed would cause a large brain rattling area force explosion of psychic energy. Close proximity could kill a person.

Pretty powerful item. Pretty dangerous. Taken from some enemy of the kingdom. Which is why Yonah has it far away from knowledge and reach of those who might wish to use it.

The hourglass releases a little of the power upon at a time. Yonah can recharge the magic if it gets low. (Again, proper use of it requires smashing it. One time use. Not breaking it allows for recharging).

Either way. It can’t be ignored and will wake up a sleeping person. It might even wake up a person who is knocked unconscious.

Nasty wake up call but necessary. It’s was only distressing the first few times.

#mystic woods extras #mystic woods #safe vore #soft vore

[n1gh70wl-blog]

Somnia - The dreaming excerpt

They say in the beginning that man and woman were as one creature. A creature with two heads, four arms and four legs;

in attempts to steal the knowledge of the heavens they were subsequently separated and placed at the opposite ends of the earth for ever to be doomed to search for their other half...…

Sophia lay restless in her bed, her sheets and comforter twisted. She flipped over hard on her right side and stared at the red numbers on the alarm clock, 3:45 a.m. Frustrated she rolled on to her back and looked intently at the ceiling fan as it slowly spun. After a short spell of watching the fan she dozed back off. Her dreams were filled with the same man that she had dreamed about since her earliest memory, though then he was a young boy. She slept only an hour then she awoke again. Aggravated as usual, unable to put a name to the person in her dreams she arose and walked down stairs;her chocolate lab, koko, followed close behind her. She seated herself at the kitchen table; koko rested his head in her lap and looked up at her with soulful eyes.

“oh, koko it’s too early boy.”, Sophia said in desperation as koko whined and paced his feet.

“okay! Fine! Go get your leash.”, Sophia said loudly.

Koko dashed off down to the basement, while Sophia dragged herself back up stairs putting on clothes and sneakers. Koko waited at the bottom with his leash in his mouth. After their brisk walk, Sophia returned to her house and showered then headed out for work. Her day proceeded as usual, she sat sluggishly in her cubical her eyes heavy from being sleep deprived. The hours drug unhurriedly passed, unable to shake the thought from her head about the man in her dreams unlike before. Every detail about

him was fresh as if she had rose from the dream on moments before. Lost in thought, amber startled Sophia when she spoke.

“hey, amber. What’s up?” Sophia said unnerved.

“are you okay?”, Amber questioned with her eyebrow raised.

“yeah, i’m fine. Just not been sleeping well”, Sophia responded with a chuckle.

“well, the reason i have stopped by is mrs. Pedimont called in complaining that you have had loan documentation that hasn’t been processed.”, Amber said as she propped

herself up against the cubical wall.

“mrs. Pedimont?”, Sophia questioned as she searched her mental index.

“yes, mrs. Pedimont....File Number 02­009834578.....She Was trying to take out a second mortgage and she is saying you have had the paper work for nearly a month and a half.”, Amber continued.

“Amber, I don’t have any files­ and i don’t remember talking with any pedimont.”, Sophia retorted in her defense.

“well can you check your file cabinet....and let me know?”, Amber questioned with a heavy sigh as she walked away from the cubical.

Enraged Sophia began to go through her filing cabinet, much to her horror she found the pedimont file. Frustrated and anxious she called her supervisor ; then left for the day. Her mind was cloudy, unable to focus she went home and stretched out on her sofa. Koko wagged over in all his lab­ like goofiness, his body almost smiling. Sophia’s face was buried in the throw pillow when koko licked her cheek.

“what is his name koko?”, Sophia asked through the pillow; koko whined as if to say, ‘i don’t know’.

“i have got to figure out who this person is....”, Sophia said aloud. “i have to figure out why they are in my dreams every night....”, She continued.

After a few moments of lying on the sofa she stood up and walked down to the basement. From a shelf she pulled down a box marked school annuals, she pulled them out one by one going through photographs in an attempt to put a name

with the face in her dreams. After she exhausted five hours to the project she came up empty handed. Even more perturbed she slammed the box back atop the shelf and went back up stairs. She paced in front of the telephone, her mind twisted

with contemplation on whether or not she should discuss the dreams. After she squabbled with herself for a few moments she picked up the phone and dialed a close friend’s number.

The phone rang a few times before it was answered, “hello?”, Katy said almost out of breath.

“hey, katy....Do You have a minute?”, Sophia asked.

“sure. What’s on your mind?”, Katy responded.

“more like who.....”, Sophia replied as she began to explain her dreams to katy. After a thirty minute conversation katy was unable to help figure out the mystery man.

“okay describe him again....”, Katy said.

#my writing #writing #writing wip #wip #somnia ~ the dreaming #cynawrites