#the last stroke of midnight (aesthetic) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joels-shitty-puns · 5 months

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Pinterest Picture Tag Stories

Thanks for the tag @nerdieforpedro

Directions:

1. Type your name followed by core into Pinterest and paste the first pic

2. Refresh your Pinterest homepage page and save and paste the first person

3. Refresh your homepage and paste a random aesthetic picture

4. Write a little story

Tags: @ghosmooth-operator @theendwhereibegin @awilderi @notjustjavierpena @planet-marz1 @pedgito @pamasaur

There are a lot of people I'd love to tag, but I don't wanna be annoying, so I tag anyone who wants to play ❤️

No-Outbreak!Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Allusions to smut, but not much detail. Kissing. Christmas traditions, no mention of religion. No outbreak, but Jackson is still a thing bc of the pic I got for core. Joel gets both his kiddos, fight me. Established relationship. Joel is your husband. Descriptions are avoided other than reader having hair, but no established length or hair type. Reader doesn't have a described skin tone either, ignore the person's hand in the mug picture.

Word count: 750

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"Merry Christmas, Joel," you chirped, bringing him a cup of steaming cocoa in bed. The only mug that was clean belonged to your oldest, Sarah. A pink care bear mug. It wasn't quite fitting of Joel's personality, but he was a girl dad through and through and it wouldn't be the first or last time he drank from a pink mug, had his nails painted, or wore a princess bandage when he had a cut from work.

The dishwasher hummed in the distance, allowing for mugs in the morning, and you snuggled against Joel while the wind swirled outside. Though you lived in Texas, you both agreed it would be good to visit Joel's brother Tommy and his family in Jackson, plus the snow would make for a nice change this Christmas.

The kids were all fast asleep by now, dreaming of Santa arriving through the chimney. You knew the girls would be waking you up in the early morning, but right now all you wanted was some alone time with your husband. As the clock flipped to midnight, you slithered out of Joel's arms, over to the closet, and pulled out a large gift box with a sparkly red bow wrapped around it.

“I know we open gifts in the morning, but I want to give this to you when it's just us, and it's officially Christmas according to the clock,” you set the package in his lap, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

"Baby, what is it?” Joel raised an eyebrow at you.

“Open it and find out!” You pecked his lips with yours before he pulled the ribbon to unravel it. Removing the lid, he unfolded a red leather jacket.

“Whoa. Baby, this is way too much,” he whispered, looking at you with guilt-laden eyes.

“It's not, I promise. I saw it at an outlet and I think you're going to look really sexy in it,” you kissed him, tracing your hand from his chest down to his lower belly. “Try it on?”

Joel stood from the bed, pulling the leather jacket over his arms. “Fuck, baby, you look so good,” you cooed.

“Really?” He asked with uncertainty, twisting his arms and feeling the material bend under his muscles.

“Really. You need to wear it to Christmas dinner tomorrow,” you licked your lips. He smiled at you before leaning down to where you sat on the bed in order to kiss you.

“Thank you,” he smiled softly.

“You're welcome. Now take it off,” you demanded, and began pulling the jacket off his arms.

“You don't want me to wear it anymore?” Joel pouted at you, a look of confusion and hurt painting his features.

“Baby…” you giggled. “I don't mean it like that. You look so sexy in this jacket, I want you to wear it all the time. But right now I need you to take it off. I want this jacket off,” you kissed him. “And this shirt,” you clawed at his skin. “And these pants,” you bit his lip, pulling his checkered pajama pants down. “And then I want you to peel off those boxers and give me my Christmas present right here in this bed,” you stroked him through his boxers.

Joel hissed at the contact, wrapping his fingers around the hair on the back of your head and tugging before kissing you back with a bite to your lips.

“Come ‘ere, baby. Lemme show you how much I love you,” he pulled your panties off before leaning his body over yours, rolling into the bed with you.

The two of you made love, slow and sensual, filled with gentle praises and kisses before you both came together. Snuggled in each other's arms, you wanted nothing more than to lay there with him, skin to skin. But quickly you jumped up and dressed before dozing off, knowing that the morning would result in excited children jumping on the bed to open presents.

After dressing, you fell back into his arms. He pulled you into his chest, your clothed back against his bare chest, your panties pushed back against his soft flannel pajamas. His arms settled around your waist, where you met his hands with yours, playing with his fingers. His face nuzzled into your neck and you both sighed as he kissed your neck, your ear, and your cheek. Finally the two of you fell asleep, dreaming of each other and the family you're nurturing, nestled under the thick covers, safe from the cold outside.

#pedro pascal #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic

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buckybarnesevents · 8 months

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⏪PART ONE

WEEK EIGHT: July 20th - July 26th

Prompts: “How did you meet?” ✧ Undercover Mission | High Stakes Op | Stakeout

— A Farmer’s Wingman | A Stroke of Luck | Starstruck ✧ by rookthorne — A Sugar-Coated Pill - Chapter 3 ✧by polizwrites — When life gets hard, I’m always gong to hold you ✧by reagy-jay — Power Play - Chapter 4 ✧ by late-to-the-party-81 — Business ✧ by otpcutie — Bet On You ✧ by im-95-not-dead — if you can take all of my faults, one day I’ll repay the costs ✧by buckyismybicycle — Forgive Me, Though I Have Sinned - Chapter 5 ✧by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy — Fiasco ✧ by smutconnoisseur

WEEK NINE: July 27th - August 2nd

FREE WEEK ✧ Optional Prompts: “S” - Sex Pollen, Sounding, Summer Vacation, Spanking

— A Sugar-Coated Pill - Chapter 4 ✧ by polizwrites — Would That Be A Problem? ✧ by endlesstwanted — found love in a hopeless place ✧ by buckyismybicycle — Stucky AU: Summer Vacation ✧ by otpcutie — Spellbound ✧ by smutconnoisseur — Awakening the Beast | Run, Kotenok, Run | Stroke of Midnight ✧ by rookthorne — Sunshine After The Rain ✧ by im-95-not-dead — Power Play - Chapter 5 ✧ by late-to-the-party-81 — Desperate ✧ by buckets-and-trees — Shine Bright Like a Sunset ✧ by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy

WEEK TEN: August 3rd - August 9th

Prompts: “Long day at work?” ✧ Superior | Massages/Back Rubs | Bath

— Taking the Burden | Serenity | Protected Haven | A Clover’s Intuition ✧ by rookthorne — These Hands Of Mine ✧ by im-95-not-dead — You bring me closer to God - Chapter 1 ✧ by late-to-the-party-81 — When the Pool Closes - Chapter 3 ✧ by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy — Stucky AU: Spa Day ✧ by otpcutie — Bubble Bath Dreams ✧ by smutconnoisseur — hey now, you’re an all-star - Chapter 22 ✧ by @buckyismybicycle — Technicalities - Chapter 4 ✧ by polizwrites

WEEK ELEVEN: August 10th - August 16th

Prompts: “Give me a colour.” ✧ Red | Yellow | Green

— Winter Soldier aesthetic (Green) ✧ by otpcutie — In The Still Of The Night ✧ by im-95-not-dead — You bring me closer to God - Chapter 2 ✧ by late-to-the-party-81 — every shade of grey has left us colourblind ✧ by buckyismybicycle — Strengthened Bond | Soft Hearts, Gentle Words ✧ by rookthorne — When the Pool Closes - Chapter 4 ✧ by @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy — Bucky's Last choice by rufferto9

WEEK TWELVE: August 3rd - August 9th

Prompts: Who’s my ____?” ✧ Good Boy/Girl | Perfect Fuckhole | Little Slut

— Heel ✧ by rookthorne — I’ve Got To Praise You (Like I Should) ✧ by im-95-not-dead — I Can Take You To Heaven And Back ✧ by endlesstwanted — Starshine (1k) ✧ by otpcutie — a fire growing between my head and my heart ✧ by buckyismybicycle — A Future Golden With Promise - Chapter 4 ✧ by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy — Technicalities - Chapter 5 ✧ by polizwrites — You bring me closer to God - Chapter 3 ✧ by late-to-the-party-81 — The Taming of a Mongrel ✧ by smutconnoisseur

WEEK THIRTEEN: August 3rd - August 9th

FREE WEEK ✧ Optional Prompts: “B” - Belly Bulge, Bondage, Bossy

— Finding Something Fresh - Chapter 4 ✧ by polizwrites — You bring me closer to God - Chapter 4 ✧ by late-to-the-party-81 — Castaway Cove ✧ by metalbvcky — Full of Surprises | Breathtaking ✧ by rookthorne — Your Hand In Mine ✧ by im-95-not-dead — Bucky Barnes AU: Baker!Bucky ✧ by otpcutie — Saturday Night Movie Marathon ✧ by buckets-and-trees — the way you touch, the way you taste ✧ by buckyismybicycle — To Be Bitten Under The Mistletoe ✧ by endlesstwanted — Contact High, Middle Earth, and Laying Low ✧ by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy

And that's a wrap, folks! Thank you so much for joining us, and we can't wait to see you next year! 😘

2023 AO3 Collection | Event Archive

& a big thank you to @rookthorne for our header & dividers!

#bucky barnes events #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanworks #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanart #hotbuckysummer2023 #bbe #event masterlist

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rom-e-o · 1 year

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“Conventional” ~ (Scrooge x Constance)

I was going to write something spicier, but when this song came up on YT, I...couldn’t resist. Liz Callaway is my inspo for Connie’s voice, so this sweet melody seemed like fated inspiration to write something about her and Scrooge’s daughter, Starla.

Just a soft, quick family fic. Enjoy!

youtube

Starla Florence DoGoode-Scrooge was as angelic of an infant as they came. Doe-eyed, smiling, her freckled cheeks flushed with life - she was nothing less than picturesque in aesthetic and decorum.

Regardless, even she was not immune to midnight terrors or other discomforts that lured her from docility into tearful fits that could last anywhere from minutes to hours.

Thankfully, her crib was near her mother and father’s bed, which met the young girl was granted immediate attention when she cried.

On this occasion, her mother was the one to slip her arms into the crib and lift Starla’s small form against her breast.

Cradling her with the gentleness of a freshly-bloomed flower cradling its springtime nectar, Constance began to sing gently:

Dry away the tears Lay aside your fears No more pain for my love I am here, go to sleep

Scrooge listened to her voice from his spot in the bed, rolling over just in time to see the red-haired woman drop a kiss upon her daughter’s brow. The moonlight rimmed her silhouette in a halo of seafoam-white, and the older man found himself transfixed by the sight. Her profile glowed with the precision of a cameo, and yet, lingered atop highlights of her hair and lips in a way that made her looks as if she herself was a celestial entity rather than a woman of flesh and blood.

Then, there was her voice. Ye gods, it was as clear as a bell, yet echoed through the halls with a ghostly tremor.

A world without the pain That's stuck with you for far too long A world that does contain A love like mine to watch you grow strong

And when my time arrives Please wait and make a place for me For when I do arrive Your face should be the first face I see

Such a sad melody, he thought, tears coming to his eyes. It sounded less like a lullaby and more like a song about grief. Acceptance of death, and it’s inevitable toll on families. Mourning, even.

Yet, the words threatened to lull both him and his infant into the catacombs of slumber. It was only due to him blinking moisture from his eyes that he avoided falling asleep to the soothing melody.

Then, a hush fell over the chamber.

Constance paused, ceasing the rocking motion and staring down at her daughter’s face. She gave Ebenezer a grin, messy locks tumbling down her shoulders and before her bright eyes.

“There...” she whispered, eyes glued to Starla’s cherubic expression. “She’s asleep.”

As she sat her back down in her crib, Ebenezer moved so he could better lean against the headboard. Opening an arm to her, she picked up the hem of her long, white down and traipsed back into bed. She sidled up to him with a giggle, tucking herself back in with a sigh. The fireplace crackled weakly on the other side of the room, but neither had the strength to add more wood to the small pyre.

“Your song was lovely,” he said gently, stroking one of the rose-gold curls near her face. In the dark, he paid extra attention to his fingers to make sure they didn’t stray. “Beautiful.”

“Thank you, my all.”

“The lyrics, though. They sounded a tad...forlorn.”

The woman nodded softly, her cheek coming to rest over his heart. “It’s the only lullaby I know. I...don’t remember how I learned it. Maybe my mother taught me? Or, maybe I learned it before I was adopted.”

“Hm.”

“I...should learn others, I suppose.”

Scrooge tightened his grip and kissed her brown folding her body even closer to his. They kept their voices low and their movements soft, lest they awaken Starla again from her newly-discovered rest.

“Certainly not,” he said, “After all, she adored it. She went to sleep, did she not?”

“Hm. That is true...”

“It almost put me to sleep as well, I’ll admit.”

Another nod, this one more reluctant. “It’s just...not exactly conventional.”

Ebenezer smiled and dipped his head down. Their lips met softly, slotting together as perfectly as two pieces of a puzzle; like two halves of a long-broken geode. Long fingers slowly worked their way into her hair, tugging slightly to help angle her head at the perfect angle. She obliged eagerly, their noses mashing briefly as a result. This caused both to smile and laugh against each other’s lips.

“Then again,” she whispered playfully, “I suppose very little about us is conventional, huh?”

“Thank goodness for that,” he said, tone deepening as he traced her shell-like cheek in the moonlight. “Conventional love sounds positively dull.”

TAG LIST: @quill-pen

#scrooge 2022 #scrooge netflix #scrooge x oc #oc constance #this song BREAKS ME #it's a lullaby but it's SO SADDDDDD #but also haunting

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darksideofthemamon · 2 years

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Aaaa at last I’m done with this! I thought I’d never finish that Olympia one!

Ever since KHUX ended (and I still miss it tbh), my Keykid’s been in my head doing her own thing, and that’s what I wanted to portray here.

I feel her main attribute is speed, though back in khux, her stats were balanced and the Keyblade I associated her with the most was Stroke of Midnight (for balance AND aesthetic). But after some plot stuff and a time skip, her strength shoots up but magic falls to almost 0, hence Olympia.

This is kind of reflected in my battle reports actually! Since I had mostly speed medals, followed by strength, with magic last.

UPDATE: reuploaded cus I forgot the buttons X’)

#khux #khux player #keykid #Khux keykid #my art #artofmamon #darksideofthemamon #the amount of times I forgot a detail in the stroke of midnight one! like the lace

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marsmarvel02 · 2 years

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Update on “Junkyard Jamboree”

So, I finally managed to find the exact right combination of search terms that would get me the information I was looking for without clogging up the results with the ride that inherited Junkyard Jamboree’s name, Mater’s Junkyard Jamboree. And I must say that what I found is very intriguing!

Quick refresher for people who’ve already managed to forget: When Disney’s California Adventure park was in development, an area called “Carland” was planned to be included. “Carland” was focused on the car culture California developed in the ‘60s, but before it could be finished the Imagineers responsible learned about Pixar’s Cars movie, and the land was quickly rethemed to “Cars Land”. One of the attractions in the original “Carland“ was the “Junkyard Jamboree“, a dark ride where cars and car parts in a junkyard came to life and made music. The concept reminded me of the song “Worthless“ from The Brave Little Toaster, so much so that I just had to find out what Junkyard Jamboree was originally like. Unfortunately, my research efforts were stymied by the fact that the name “Junkyard Jamboree“ was recycled for the attraction known as “Mater’s Junkyard Jamboree“, which has almost nothing in common with the original Jamboree besides (ostensibly, in Mater’s case) being set in a junkyard and featuring music.

But, late last night, I was finally able to find information on the original Junkyard Jamboree, and I must say the information is just so interesting.

The first thing I found was this piece of concept art, accompanied by the caption “Originally conceived as a dark ride, Junkyard Jamboree at Carland would have taken visitors through an auto salvage yard where old junkers came to life after dark and played music”

The caption really doesn’t do much more than confirm what I already know, but I must say that concept art looks amazing. I love the vaguely menacing aura the junk figures give off.

Next, I found this little bit of description:

Okay, so not quite the “Grim Grinning Ghosts meets Worthless” aesthetic I was originally expecting, but dang if that doesn’t sound cool! (I guess that would put Johnny and his band in the same general area as the U-Tensils from Food Rocks, both being bands made out of animated metal implements that have some kind of vague menace about them despite neither being supposed to be scary.)

And then, I finally found what I thought to be the primary source for all of this: A memoir written by an Imagineer. Specifically, Magic Journeys: My Fantastical Walt Disney Imagineering Career by Kevin Rafferty. In the chapter on Car-/Cars Land, there’s a collection of concept art for Carland attractions, including Junkyard Jamboree. And this one has a caption that’s much more interesting:

There are two things specifically of note here: It appears that the band was supposed to be named “Johnny Revtone and the V8s”, not “Johnny V8 and the Revtones”; the site that I got the earlier screenshot from must have accidentally transposed part of the name. In addition, the mention of “the midnight hour” draws on a classic trope dating to the cartoons of the ‘30s and even further beyond that: Inanimate objects coming to life at the stroke of midnight to either throw a ball or just get into mischief. This attraction would’ve taken the “throw a ball” aspect, and modernized- well, 60s-ized- it into a rock n’ roll concert.

From that same book is another small piece of information, involving Junkyard Jamboree’s planned location. (Hey, that rhymes!)

This isn’t really all that mind-blowing, but it’s mentioned that Junkyard Jamboree was “large-scale”, which means there were more scenes than just Johnny Revtone’s band playing. I wonder what on earth those could’ve been...

Now, that should be everything, but in this search I uncovered one more mystery:

This is the same piece of concept art we’ve seen already, but watermarked with “Disneygeek dot com” (which is just the website this picture is from) and “D23 Expo - 08.21.11”. Why is the D23 Expo mentioned? Was this brought up there? Is it just a misattribution? Are those numbers next to it a date?

(Oh, and I must say that image really gives you a good look at how well-drawn and detailed the cars are.)

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bonnettaa · 2 years

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brume

lowercase intended

genre: slice of life, ex lovers to friends to lovers

word count: 1.2k

warnings: swearing (small amount)

music recommendation: "cry for love" by baekhyun

sitting on my balcony, overlooking the city, a little municipality in china, called guilin, i notice that everything seems…bleak. it was the third day this week where it was just brume. brume— that’s all it ever was. it complemented the dull green of the city and its surroundings. the grey brick of the city was covered in a thin layer of bright green moss, mostly due to the mist over the last couple of days, but partly because no one cares. no one in this godforsaken town cares. at least it gives the town a little bit of aesthetic to blend in with the mountainous biome surrounding it.

it reminds me of him, the brume days. the days we spend together. the nights we spent together. when we would venture out into the mountains, or stay at home, in my little loft apartment and sit on my bed, watching our favorite movies or tv shows. sitting in the car, driving to who-knows-where, listening to our favorite music. we just enjoyed each other's presence. but, it came to the point where that’s all that it was. it no longer felt romantic. i don’t think i fell out of love with him— i doubt if i ever was in love with him. did i love him? yes— but it was platonic. i don’t know how we got so far. the day i left, a little part of me died. we still spend time together, but it’s not the same. it’s not the same knowing i hurt him the way i did.

i sat, lost in my thoughts for so long, that i didn’t even realize that the sun had set and the moon has come out. well— there goes my day. i went inside and went downstairs. even though i was not tired, made myself some tea and sat down on my couch. i turned on the tv, just for some noise. i pulled out my favorite book and started reading. suddenly, there was a subtle knock on the door. i know that knock anywhere. it was his. his knock was soft and subtle, not loud and abrasive.

i open the door, and he’s standing there. he has bags in his hands. bags of takeout. i let him in, even though he came over uninvited. he takes out the food and sets it on the island in the kitchen. without saying a word, he hands me the food, so i know that it’s mine. he got me xiaolongbao, which is my favorite food. i give him that are you fucking kidding me you didn’t have to look as a thank you, and he returned it with a yes the fuck i did look. with a wave of my hand, i invite him over to the couch. he, of course, does not protest and follows along shortly after. i start paying attention to the tv for the first time in hours, but i can’t bring myself to actually listen. i only think of him— the man sitting beside me.

the man i once said i loved.

all i could think about was him. it doesn’t matter that we were sitting right next to each other; i felt as if we were so far away that even if i were to reach out to him, i wouldn’t feel him. not at all.

when we finished eating, it was way past midnight. i shot him a look that asked do you want to go outside? i got no response, but he got up and walked out onto the balcony. i followed behind. for the first time in a while, i felt genuinely nervous to do something, anything, with him. i longed for the feeling we once had. the feeling that we had when we first got together. serenity— that’s what i longed for. i hoped that a fortunate stroke of serendipity would give it to me. patience. that’s all i needed. we sat down, across from each other, at the table on the balcony. we had spent so many hours together here, just living, enjoying each other’s company. now, it felt tense. i was comfortable in this tension. it was something different to contrast with the incredibly bleak day. we just sat in comfortable silence for what felt like forever. that was, until, the mist turned into light rain. light rain turned into heavy rain. heavy rain turned into downpour. i ran inside to avoid getting soaked. he followed a little while after me. he came in soaking wet. i let myself smile and let out a soft laugh for the first time in a while. this idiot. i grab a towel from the bathroom upstairs and help him dry off. he doesn’t say thank you, but i know he means it just by the way he’s looking at me and smiling.

he starts to make his way downstairs to return the towel, but i stop him and grab it from his hands— to bring it to the laundry room, of course. as i get the laundry started, i start to think. am i falling for him? now? i couldn’t be. i broke his heart. i never felt anything towards him. not during our relationship, at least. why now? we’re over. we’ve been over. there’s no going back. or so i think. i make my way back to the living room, attempting to forget the thoughts i just had.

i sat back down on the couch with him. just watching tv. his favorite show— our favorite show. after a couple of hours— it was about 3:30 am— i fell asleep. on his shoulder.

i awoke to a light tap on my shoulder and a quick shake of my body. as soon as he saw that i was conscious, he handed me a warm coffee. i nodded at him as a thank you, peering at him through my tired eyes. without hesitation, he went back into the kitchen and came back a few moments later with a plate of food. eggs, mainly, with a few sausages here and there. again, another nod as a thank you. he soon sits next to me. we eat in comfortable silence, the rain pitter-pattering against the windows and the birds chirping being the only noise we hear.

we finish eating, and i grab the plates to put into the sink to wash. he grabs his coat to walk out. i walk him out to the front of the apartment building and— before he is out of earshot— i say “i love you”

he turn around and smiles. he looks me dead in the eyes, and, without missing a beat, smiles even harder— if that’s possible— and says it back. he says “i love you, too” back. i go back inside to my apartment, clean the dishes in the sink, and sit down on the couch. i feel something for the first time in this incredibly bleak week. i keep repeating the events over and over in my head.

i keep repeating the way he turned around and said “i love you, too.” i never thought that the words “i love you, too” would have such an impact on me. i spend the whole day thinking about the way he said “i love you, too.” i went to bed and the last thought i had was him saying “i love you, too.”

i hope he knows i mean it. i hope he knows i mean the words “i love you.”

#writing #drabble

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stocky2016 · 10 months

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"That, Oh So Starry Night!"

(Inspired by the gorgeous art brush-work of Vincent Van Gough)

As I look up into the night sky above,

the stars of twinkling magic fill me with love.

The starlit sky just shines so bright,

a celestial beauty, so tranquil and quiet.

Midnight fire, the stars they shine so bright,

dancing like fireflies through the night.

Glowing embers that warm us in the dark

once silhouettes in darkness, then enchanting sparks.

The sky bejeweled with countless lights,

glows radiantly against depths of night.

My heart revels in their wondrous view,

as I'm mesmerized by the multitude of glistening hues.

Star-filled universe with beauty of each twinkling light,

the long wait until morning dawns, so far from sight.

The beauty and the mystery of the night,

coveted calm and serenity, that no one fights.

Eternal abstraction, boundless landscape surrounding the moon,

captures what this painting meant to Van with such a poetic tune.

His was a twilight symphony, the celestial show,

a starry night brought to life by strings of eloquent flow.

A never-ending serenade, a gentle night in bloom,

a tranquil sky of stars, where sweet melodies loom,

The creative chaos, Van Gough was dreaming...

a cosmic, anthem-like sound; powerfully screaming.

The warmth and beauty, the peace and tranquility,

the wonder and amazement of the stars so free.

As the night advances, so does the darkening sky,

the stars sparkle and dance, and does the firefly.

Bold brush-strokes enraptured by aesthetic surprise,

his stories still really captivate our uneducated eyes.

Impressionistic dreams but applied with such care,

his artistic aims and wishes he intimately shares.

Brush strokes of genius defined by the stars,

a man suppressed relatively, unknown from afar

Appreciate his artwork with some admiration,

the delightful concoction of manic elation.

A frenzy of creation most uncommonly seen,

Van Gogh was set apart, transcending the dream.

Images unveil an almost surrealist design,

no greater impression than the art of his mind.

A brush with brilliance which showed great ambition,

from bold beginnings to famous reputation...

Van Gough releases his spirits free and uniquely

shaping the world they interpret and see.

The master's touch lives through painting's eternity,

guiding us, inspiring the tastes of you and me

With immortal lessons learned lasting far beyond our days,

our artist's passionate creations will always stay.

G.P.S. 5th July 2023

Picture courtesy of Google/Tumblr Images

https://www.google.com/search?q=starry%20starry%20night&tbm=

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familyatourcore · 6 years

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tag drop.

#they call me cinderella (headcanon)#lizards and pumpkins and things (aesthetic)#ella open rp #an apprentice still learning his trade (headcanon)#the last stroke of midnight (aesthetic)#caelius open rp #any rule can be broken (headcanon)#second star to the right and straight on til morning (aesthetic)#payton open rp #off with their head (headcanon)#darling im a nightmare (aesthetic)#victoria open rp #heads will roll (headcanon)#death in the shadows prince in the sun (aesthetic)#valerian open rp

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srbachchan · 3 years

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DAY 4971

Jalsa, Mumbai Oct 5/6, 2021 Tue/Wed 12:43 AM

Tomorrow .. Oct 6th .. is the birthday of Ef Daisy M 🌼 .. and all our wishes for a wonderful day .. keep well and in sincere care .. the Ef

Oct 6, 2021 Wed 8:17 AM

.. and the apologies for this lapse in the presentation of the DAY earlier ..

the effort to wind up a long and arduous day was just beginning to take its toll, and the head was keeling over the post, so the best to do on such conditioning was to allow it to keel over softer domain - the duvet and the bed ..

It was an ad., shoot, last day/night, written and executed in as aesthetic and artistic a manner as possible .. long pages of expression verbology and several conditioned magnifications where the device moves about in various directions ..

So even though the spoken was done in the very first express .. the magnification change and changes were time consuming .. and as is the norm , to save time , do a magnification and rush to do the photo stills, with the ever delightful Avinash Gowariker, who had ‘management complained’ about missing out his birthday wishes on the 4th .. and the embarrassment and heart break it caused him, especially since he was with family at the stroke of the midnight hour, and when the messages of congratulations and wishes started pouring in, mine that was expected , as is the norm at 00:02 am did not come .. 😦

sad .. because when I checked the phone I discovered that it had not been sent and so I took the stick and presented him pronto a gift in making up .. which which which .. he refused to accept .. ! 😯 and returned it back, giving the other embarrassment to me that I had already given much to him and that he would not accept anymore ..

even the lure of giving the gift to his better half , did not work ..

some principles of some are unbreakable ..

and I am equally embarrassed in posting below an article written by a dear journalist friend of long years .. but since it is already in the public domain, I thought I might as well ..

.. in deep embarrassment putting up another magazine cover ..

.. and you can download the entire magazine on the link below:

and so bye .. the shoot timings are getting close and i must leave ..

my love ..

Amitabh Bachchan

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067supremacy · 3 years

Text

WARNING! Mentions of death, loss, and grief

Your one and only - Jill Valentine

I'm sorry in advance 💔

Rain and tears mingle on your face, salty tracks blending into the fresh sky-fallen trickles. Only the pinkness of your eyes gives any clue to your sadness, and in this city, who will look closely enough to tell. There is a heaviness to your woolen coat that was absent when you left the hospital.

The rain beats down on you like a drum; the sheer force, combined with your ultimate sadness, was tiring. The massive sign covered in graffiti signaled that you had just entered the local park. Seems a good enough place as any to have a breakdown.

The children play park came in to view, and that's when the memories of your childhood spiked; it was this exact play park you met the love of your life, Jill. Better times and Better memories.

Yesterday was so simple, you picked up the expensive ring you could barely afford, you got Jills' favorite flowers, her go-to snacks. And even had her favorite movie ready to play. Jill always said she wanted subtle, so a proposal in the apartment you now shared together seemed perfect. Little did you know that shortly after midnight, you would get a call.

A call you hoped would never come, a call you couldn't imagine would ever come. The sound of a man's voice, easily mid-'50s, said with nothing but sorrow, the two words you never wanted to hear. "I'm sorry,"

The rest of the call was a blur; you couldn't even remember hanging up. But you had one destination, and that was the Raccoon City Hospital.

It was fairly routine for people with Jills' skill set, a possible kidnap and hostage situation. You didn't know the details, and quite frankly, you didn't care for them, but the man who was responsible for that crime had just taken the life of your one and only.

Your mind was in denial; she would be fine. Sitting up in the hospital bed with a slight cut, anxiously awaiting your arrival.

This was far from the case. The sad smile the doctor offered you; told you everything you needed to know. She was gone—your Jill. The sight you entered on was sickening. Multiple bullet wounds scattered her chest and stomach, tubes, and wires were surrounding her body. Her face was pale white, but her neck under was stained crimson red.

The overwhelming urge to release the contents of your stomach was stopped, for you had to be strong at this moment. The tears you tried so hard to keep back were eventually released—a downpour, similar to the one outside.

It was almost as if mother nature had taken your soul as a reference to how the weather would be. At first, the flood gates opened, and as you stroked her cold, bloodless cheek, the rain got heavier and heavier.

Your tears of sadness soon became anger. When the anger crept up, you could hear the light rumble of impending thunder, followed by the deadly strike of lightning.

The devil himself would have been shaking at your fury, begging for endless mercy.

She was right in front of you, even in death, she was angelic. You took this opportunity to let everything out. Your agonizing wails of pain echoed through the empty hospital hallways; patients, doctors, and nurses could all hear your life unfolding. This is genuine pain.

As preparations for Jills' body were put into place, you kissed her hand one last time. The last time. Your heart was officially broken; no amount of time would heal this fracture on your being. The second you exited the hospital room, you felt nothing.

A man you knew to be Jills' partner, Chris, was standing by the door. He, too, looked distraught, his tall, overpowering demeanor was gone. Replaced by utter sadness, he avoided eye contact as he caught your attention.

"I'm so sorry, I-I tried my best, but- "

You shook your head in response. You knew Chris would take this hard; Jill was his partner after all.

"Don't do that to yourself, she wouldn't let you," That was all you could manage; it was blunt but to the point.

"In the event of one of our- this is for you, I promised I would give it to you,"

Chris held out a small envelope, which you took before aimlessly walking through the silent corridor.

With those thoughts pushed aside, you looked down at the wrinkled envelope; it was slightly water damaged, so you hoped whatever was inside was still intact.

You took a seat by the playground; it was covered from rain by a small canopy. As you open the envelope, you take a deep breath when you realize it's a letter, and the handwriting is unmistakable. It was Jill who wrote this.

"So, I'm not good with this sort of thing. I hope that you never have to read this.

Anyway, Hi, babe. If you receive this letter then, well. I'm gone.

I want to start off by saying that I'm sorry. I know how you will react to this; you will be upset at first, but that will turn to anger; it will be with others at first, but soon the anger will be with yourself. Please don't let it consume you; I know you won't fight it, which is why I will personally come back and throw it out of you. (Drawn smiley face) when my light goes out, and it's my time to settle down, just know that my main concern will be you. Always you.

Secondly, I love you. I dedicated everything I have to you, but it still feels like it isn't enough. When I get home tonight, I will be sure to tell you ten times over just how much I love you.

Finally, since you probably/hopefully won't see this, I should tell you that I may have plans to get you a puppy for your birthday. You won't stop talking about it and well if it makes you smile. It will make me smile. Also want to add that I'm still waiting for you to propose; stop teasing me with it and ask the question already! The answer is always yes.

You're the one I can't live without.

This fact is true, I have no doubt.

I love the way you smile at me.

I love the way together we're free.

Your one and only, Jill."

Everything about this letter was crushing. She was waiting for you to propose. God was playing a sick game right now; he had no respect for your life. Everything that you wanted was supposed to happen tonight. You would finally spend the rest of your life with her until the powers beyond took it all away.

The tears continued to fall, and the rain had yet to die down. Looking out at the busy street beyond the park, the neon glow of high street shops surrounded by water droplets, created the aesthetic of a lifetime. You began to see her face in the rain; you could make out every single detail that made her so unique. As a flash of lightning temporarily blinded your vision, by the time it was back. Her face was gone.

There was no doubt that tonight would forever be remembered, just not in the way you hoped. The night you were to ask Jill for her hand in marriage was the same night you lost her forever.

#resident evil #re3 remake #re3r #jill valentine #jillybean #capcom #gaming #imagine #angst #loss #grief #biohazard #resident evil 3 #nemesis #jill x reader

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fortheloveofwonderland · 3 years

Text

Under Silken Skies [Spencer Reid x fem! Reader]

A/N - just an angsty little oneshot I needed to get out of my head. Fufills my Break Up Square on my CM Bingo Card for @cmbingo . My permanent Tag List is open. Find my CM Bingo Masterlist Here. Find my full masterlist here.

My request are also Open for prompts/reqs/headcannons/aesthetics or just to say hi.

CW - major character death and lots of angst. Very vague mentions of smut and virgin! Spencer, vague mentions of Maeve and what happens to Spencer in the S15 finale (if it had ended differently). This does not have a happy ending.

WC: 4K

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He was eleven and you were thirteen. You didn’t know his name, only he was smart and awkward and got teased because of those things.

You found him tied to a flagpole as you’d left detention one night on your way across the soccer field. He was naked aside from his underwear and blindfolded.

He cried as you untied him, his skin like ice. You insisted you were there to help, whether he believed you or not you weren’t sure.

You stripped off your oversized jumper and slipped it over his head, helping him guide his arms in the holes. He didn’t thank you. He didn’t ask why. He just wrapped himself in the warmth.

He told you his name was Spencer. Spencer Reid and he’d been tricked by a girl and stripped of his clothes and tied to the flagpole.

He’d been there hours before you found him.

You sat together on the dewy grass, no more than a handful of words passed between you. He asked why you’d helped, why you’d stayed but you’d simply shrugged.

Maybe you’d felt bad for him or maybe you’d felt drawn to him. You knew all about school bullies.

He seemed so small and unsure of himself, as though the mere act of sitting with you was cause for panic.

He didn’t make eye contact. You saw him glance in your direction a few times when you weren’t looking.

He was so fragile you didn’t understand how anyone could do that to such an innocent creature. He just wanted to fit in, isn’t that all we really wanted?

He couldn’t help being smart.

There was a sadness about him that went further than what the bullies had done today. You could tell it was the kind of air that followed him around, a permanent dark cloud.

It hurt you to know someone so young could carry so much pain. It didn’t seem fair that at his tender age he already seemed defeated by the world that surely had so much more to throw at him.

What if he wasn’t strong enough to cope with the terrors of the world? You hoped maybe these formative years would make him stronger against what was to come. Maybe it was helping to build up those walls early, making him stronger for the horrors he would no doubt have to face later in life.

You weren’t sure, but one thing you were sure of was Spencer Reid had sad, sad eyes. You could tell he needed a friend and maybe you could be it. Maybe you could protect him.

So for now the two of you sat side by side on the soccer field, under the moonlit silken sky.

***

He was twelve and you fourteen and he was finally getting out of the hell hole that was high school.

It was his graduation day and his gown drowned his small frame and his cap was too big for his head and kept falling to the side.

You straightened it for him again and gave him a soft smile.

He was going to CalTech in the fall and you were so proud of him, but gosh were you going to miss him.

It had only been little over a year since the night on the soccer field but the two of you had become friends. He helped you with your homework and you kept the bullies away from him.

You’d become his protector, he looked up to you and although he would never tell anyone this, he had a crush on you. A big one.

He was excited about CalTech but he was sad to leave you.

There were a lot of mixed emotions in the air. You’d stay in touch and he’d come back and visit but it wouldn’t be the same.

Who was going to keep him safe at college? Who was going to keep an eye on him? What happened if the bullies at CalTech were even worse and you were hundreds of miles away not being able to do anything about it?

He’d told you not to worry about him, that he’d be fine but it was hard not to. He was still so tiny and fragile, like a baby bird and if truth be told you were scared for him.

“I’m proud of you Crash.” You straightened his tie.

He rolled his eyes under his thick glasses. One time you’d heard his mom call him that and you hadn’t stopped calling him it since.

“Thanks Y/N.” He smiled but it was a sad smile.

You placed your hands gently on his shoulders, knowing what he was thinking. You’d gotten really good at reading his mind.

“Me too.” You whispered. You leant close and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

His face turned crimson and he chewed his lip. His cheek felt like it was on fire where your lips had touched him.

“Come on Crash, it’s time.” You slid your hand in his and started leading him towards the stage he was going to walk over and accept his diploma.

Within a matter of weeks he would be gone and you’d be alone again just as you had been before you’d met him.

So for now the two of you walked hand in hard across towards the stage, under the sun soaked silken sky.

***

Spencer was sixteen and you were eighteen and you’d just witnessed his second graduation; this time from CalTech.

The gown fit him a lot better this time than it had at his high school graduation. Over the last year or so he had sprung up in height, now towering over you. He had grown up a lot over the last few years. He was slowly becoming a man.

“Look at you.” You nudged him in the arm. “So grown up.”

“Shut up.” He batted you away with a shy smile. “I wouldn’t have asked you to come here if I knew all you were going to do was embarrass me.”

“Sorry Crash.” you smirked. “I am so, so proud of you kid.”

You gently tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear. His cheeks burned in embarrassment.

He was coming back to Vegas and you would have been thrilled if it wasn’t for the fact in a few months you were going off to college yourself.

It seemed unfair life had brought you together only to tear you apart over and over again. There seemed like there was never a right time for the two of you.

“You ready?” you asked him softly, trying not to focus on the thought of being torn away from him again.

“Almost.” he nodded, taking a few deep breaths.

You assumed he was trying to calm his nerves before taking to the stage for his graduation ceremony but it wasn’t that.

His hands were shaking when he came close to you and placed them on your hips.

“What are you doing?” you tilted your head at him in confusion.

Before Spencer could change his mind about his next move he closed his eyes and moved in close to you. His lips were so soft as they pressed against yours, barely ghosting your lips. You could have been convinced it hadn’t even happened.

He chewed his lip bashfully when he pulled back, looking at the floor.

“Sorry.” he whispered. “I uhm...lets go.”

He walked past you, leaving you staring in his wake.

Had that really just happened?

You brushed your fingers against your lips in disbelief. But your lips were tingling, it had definitely happened.

Eventually you followed him in confusion but there was no time to ask him about it. Hopefully you’d get a chance to later.

So for now you walked behind him, watching him adjust his cap, under the Californian silken sky.

***

Spencer was now eighteen and you were twenty, in your final year at Georgetown.

Spencer now had a doctorate in mathematics and was working towards one in chemistry. He kept talking about doing another doctorate in engineering when he was through.

He had grown even more so and was really starting to grow into his looks. He’d always been cute, but recently when you looked at him you saw a handsome man looking back at you.

Hanging out in your dorm that night it was hard to say how it started. One minute you’d been engrossed in a movie, your head on Spencer’s shoulder and the next you lips were pressed together, his tongue exploring your mouth.

He hadn’t kissed you again since his CalTech graduation and you didn’t know where this had come from now. But you did know you’d been thinking more inappropriate thoughts about your friend as of late and they were seemingly materialising in front of your eyes.

Spencer was a virgin, you were not. In that moment you wished he could have been your first time.

It was slow and gentle and Spencer was a bag of nerves the whole time. He groped at your body with seemingly no purpose other than to feel every part of you.

He didn’t last long, the feeling of being inside of you was too intense, too sensational. But it was nice. It felt right. It felt like home.

Afterwards he held you in his arms in your small single bed too nervous to look you in the eye. You stroked circles on his bare chest feeling the most content you’d felt in a long time.

You both stared up at the ceiling which you’d painted midnight blue and was peppered with glow in the dark stars.

“Spence?” You whispered softly.

“Yes Y/N?”

“You know I love you, don’t you?”

He exhaled and pulled you into him closer.

“I know.” He kissed the top of your head. “And I love you.”

You didn’t know what would happen tomorrow. You didn’t know if this was a one time thing or if this meant you were together now. You suppose it didn’t much matter right now. The only thing that mattered right now was Spencer holding you in his arms.

So for now you laid there together on your dorm room bed, under a mural of the silken sky.

***

He was twenty two and you were twenty four, and he’d just been offered a job at the FBI.

In Quantico, Virginia.

You were sure you’d spent your whole relationship out of state from one another. The past three years Spencer had been away while he worked on a second BA and then his third doctorate.

Since leaving college you’d stayed put in Vegas, getting a job as a curator at a local art gallery.

You saw Spencer when you could but it never seemed to be enough. At least not for you.

And then he’d dropped the bombshell about his job offer and told you he was moving to the other side of the country.

It had been hard enough over the years to maintain your relationship but you were sure this would be the death of you. And so you’d told Spencer it was time the two of you went your separate ways.

He’d tried to argue that you could make it work but you weren’t willing to find out. The four years you’d gotten had been amazing but all good things had to come to an end.

And maybe you and Spencer had never been destined. It had always been just a little too difficult. You’d finally thought once you were in the same state it would be easier, but he was leaving again.

It was hard but he supposed he understood. He would miss you with every fibre of his being but this job was too good for him to pass up.

You told him if you were meant to be, you’d find your way back to each other one day, although you weren’t sure you believed that.

You sat on the swing set in the desolate park together, hands entwined together as you swung back and forth on your separate swings.

He was leaving tomorrow. He was packed, his flight was booked and he had an apartment to go to in DC.

He was leaving and you were staying and it broke your heart.

“I’m gonna miss you Crash.” You squeezed his hand.

“I’m going to miss you too Y/N.”

It felt like the end of an era but an era that had never really had a chance to begin.

He was supposed to be your one true love, your greatest love story. But this story didn’t get a happy ending.

You swung back and forth into the night, just revelling in being with him one last time. You couldn’t think about tomorrow. Tomorrow was a world away.

So for now you swung, hand in hand, under the midnight silken sky.

***

You were twenty nine and you loved him, you really loved him.

He had turned your whole world upside down and made you feel things you’d never thought you’d feel again.

You loved him, you really did.

But he wasn’t Spencer Reid.

Maybe you’d gotten lucky and got to have two great loves of your life. Your life with Spencer was over long ago, it was only fair you were allowed to move on.

You wondered what twenty seven year old Spencer was doing with his life. Was he still at the BAU? Did he get a fourth doctorate? Was he happy?

God you hoped he was happy.

It was a small ceremony in front of your closest friends and family. No frills, no fuss. Just you and him being joined in matrimony.

He was a good guy, a nice guy; he treated you right and he loved you. At the end of the day, that’s all that mattered right?

So you didn’t get butterflies in your stomach when he kissed you. Maybe you didn’t go weak at the knees when he looked at you or felt like you were coming home when you made love. And so what if you’d felt all those things with Spencer? That didn’t matter, did it? It didn’t mean you didn’t love your new husband.

It was just a different kind of love. You weren’t in your teens falling in love for the first time. This was the kind of love you had when you grew up and got older. It didn’t mean it meant any less; that he meant any less to you.

He led you outside by your hand as your friends and family showered you in confetti. He turned and smiled at you brightly. He looked the happiest you’d ever seen him, you didn’t know if you could match his happiness.

You smiled back at him, probably not quite meeting his enthusiasm but if he noticed he didn’t say as much. It was only now that you looked down at the ring around your finger did it suddenly feel like a noose. You couldn’t allow yourself to think about how wrong it suddenly felt.

So for now you allowed your new husband to kiss you, under the Vegas Springtime silken sky.

***

He was thirty one and she was thirty. Her voice was like honey and he yearned to be able to hold her in his arms.

Her name was Maeve Donnovan and she had a stalker which was preventing them from meeting.

It was the first time Spencer had felt anything akin to love since you. He was sure he would never love again, you were the only person that could take that place in his heart.

And then had started having headaches and sought out the help of a geneticist and he started falling in love with her. For the first time in years you weren’t the first thing on his mind when he woke up in the morning. He didn’t spend all his waking hours pining over you.

Maeve was slowly but surely replacing you in his heart. And Spencer really needed that. He needed you finally gone from his mind.

“I think the stalker’s gone Spencer.” she’d told him that Sunday on the phone.

A huge weight had been lifted from her voice, he could hear the smile in it down the payphone. He couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure yeah.” she was smiling brightly. He knew she would have a beautiful smile.

“That’s great Maeve.” he smiled, gripping the phone in hands.

Did that mean what he thought it meant? Could they finally meet now? Have a normal relationship?

“I want to meet.” her words were rushed as though she weren’t sure she should be saying them. But he caught them.

She wanted to meet. She wanted to meet him.

He didn’t care what she looked like because she was already the most beautiful woman in the world to him. But what if she didn’t like him? What if he was too nerdy, what if his hair was too long and messy? What if she took one look at him and turned and ran?

He swallowed those nerves, trying to push them aside for another day.

So for now he smiled shakily down the phone, under the blustery DC silken sky.

***

You were forty and recently divorced. You knew on your wedding day it would end this way.

You loved your husband but you would never love him the way you loved Spencer. You managed ten years before you’d called it quits. He’d always known your heart didn’t fully belong to him.

You missed Spencer everyday and it was so unfair how he could still take up so much of your mind. It was a cruel world you supposed. Maybe you just weren’t supposed to be happy.

You’d had your happiness and it had been short lived. But you were thankful for the brief happiness you had been given. It was more than some people got you supposed.

He was thirty eight and home visiting his mother. He didn’t work full time at the BAU anymore since his reinstatement after he was incarcerated and lectured at Georgetown part time. It allowed him more free time to fly out to Vegas to see his mom.

Lecturing at Georgetown brought back so many memories for him. Georgetown was the place he had lost his virginity, the place he’d told you he loved you for the first time. Georgetown held so many pleasant memories for Spencer but they were all bittersweet.

After spending some time grieving Maeve after she died, his mind landed right back on you. It seemed he was always pining over someone. It wasn’t fair.

He was getting coffee on his way back to the hotel he was staying in when a familiar face materialised in front of him.

You weren’t there one moment and then suddenly you were, as though you had just appeared out of thin air.

You held your own coffee cup in your hand, your eyes wide and jaw slack. He watched you swallow a lump in your throat.

“Hi Crash.” you couldn’t help his old nickname tumble out from between your lips.

“Hi Y/N.” his voice croaked, still trying to comprehend how you could so suddenly be here in front of him after all these years of absence.

He felt like that twenty two year old swinging with you side by side in the park counting down the hours until he left you.

He felt like the sixteen year old young man who was falling hopelessly in love with you.

He felt like the eleven year old boy utterly grateful for you untying him from the flagpole.

“It’s been a long time.” you spoke, your mouth dry.

“A really long time.” he agreed with a stiff nod.

“Uhm...do you want to...coffee?” you ignored the fact you both had coffees in your hand.

“O-ok.” he nodded stiffly again.

After all these years you had so much to say to each other but no words would come out.

So for now you walked in silence down the Vegas street, under the cloud coated silken sky.

***

He was thirty nine years old when the explosion occurred. He’d thought it was just a concussion and didn’t pay it much mind.

You were forty one years old when you received the phone call from Penelope Garcia to inform you that Spencer was in the hospital.

They called it intracranial bleeding, his brain was swelling, bleeding; shutting down. They’d told you there was nothing they could do.

How cruel this life had been to you. It had stolen Spencer away from you when your relationship barely had a chance to blossom. It had brought him back into your life, for the two of you to fall back in love with each other only to have one final year together.

It had been the greatest year of your life and you had to try and focus on that as David Rossi read his eulogy.

He spoke all about Spencer’s life, the life you’d barely gotten to be a part of. Hearing it second hand and not from Spencer’s lips was tragic enough in itself.

You didn’t really feel as though you belonged here. You didn’t know him the way his team members knew him. You felt like a stranger in this place now.

You’d jumped at moving to DC when you and Spencer reunited because there was no way you were making the same mistake twice and letting him get away again. But now DC seemed like a suddenly very lonely place.

As the brilliant man you knew and loved was being lowered into the ground, his final resting place, the heavens opened. The rain cascaded down from the sky and you couldn’t help but think how apt it was on this already bleak day.

Garcia came to you at his graveside when the ceremony was over. The rain disguised your tears. She nudged you with her shoulder, her own tears falling.

“The world is going to be a very different place without boy genius in it.” she sobbed as she spoke.

“You’re telling me.” you chewed your lip, your eyes locked on his headstone as you spoke.

“He loved you know? He always loved you.”

You nodded statically not looking at the other woman. You knew he loved you, that much you were sure of. You only wished you had more time.

Maybe if you’d know what life had in store you would have come with him to DC all those years ago. Had you known you didn’t have all the time in the world, that your love only had a finite number of days you might have been more inclined to cling to them.

That was hindsight though you supposed and dwelling on it didn’t change the past. What was done was done. You didn’t go to DC with him, you stayed in Vegas. You spent years pining over him only to have the universe throw you back together again.

And then he’d been snatched from you once more in the most horrific way. And now it was over for good.

“Come on Y/N, you’ll catch a cold if you stay out here.” Garcia placed a gentle arm on your shoulder.

“I’ll be right there.” you told her, still not looking away from where the love of your life was buried beneath the dirt.

You heard her leave as more tears started to fall from your eyes. Your knees gave out and you fell to the grass in the rain.

You sobbed into your hands, cursing life for being so unyielding. But there was nothing you could do about it. The wheels had been set into motion long before you and Spencer had even met. This was always the way things were going to end up. Fate was a cruel mistress.

And so you knelt in the dirt sobbing next to the grave of the love of your life, under the grey, weeping silken sky.

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Tag List -

@muffin-cup

@andiebeaword

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #cmbingo21 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you

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lunarimpact · 2 years

Text

Cinderella Wasn’t Me

It was an elaborate affair, dripping with aesthetics piecemealed from film and paintings, from childhood stories. The room, vast and grandiose, was filled to the brim with opulence. Cornices of ivory, embellished with gold, glimmering, shimmering in the dizzying light of dozens of candles adorning immense chandeliers. Melted candle wax, millennia-old, displayed like stalactites on the gilded chandeliers, the many light fixtures. The marble flooring glints beneath the feet of the many dancers, carrying the enchanting warm glow of the candlelight. Thick curtains of heavy crimson velvet masked the impossibly pure moonlight, trapping all within the magnanimous ball hall. The vast staircases were adorned in similar crimson carpets, pinned in place by gilded stair rods.

The most elite denizens of Devildom moved around the room, their eyes a vivid display behind their masks. Some of the more masculine guests were dressed in attire most befitting of some fairytale, from their silken blouses, left open to bare a tasteful strip of skin, tucked into tight velvet black trousers, to elaborate Eurasian-inspired three-piece or more suits. Whilst others wore gowns made of nearly translucent fabrics, their shoulders left bare, the front of their dresses dipping low to the naval. Some were adorned in long gloves or short kid gloves, jewelry of indescribable beauty adorning their wrists, necks, and ears. Even affixed into their hair or adorning their horns, tails, and all sorts of extremities. Wings, iridescent or solid in color, adorned the backs of some, displayed with pride.

The dancers moved about the ballroom in a ring, a brilliance of color, of voices, as though the night might never end. As though there was nothing left within the world but the music, the eternally burning candles, and the masquerade. Those who were not dancing lounged upon plush fainting couches or within carefully arranged seats, the tables overrun with fine foods and more wine than she had ever seen. Maids and footmen, who moved like shadows, served the guests from silver trays overflowing with refreshments, delectable fruits, pastries, filling goblets from crystalline decanters.

No matter where Mei turned, she found her dark eyes locking with the dangerous glimmer of the dancers, the guests, peering out of their cruel half-masks, whose features were unique and otherworldly, losing the thin threads that made them imitate human appearance. Some were more bestial than others, with serpentine snouts or near bone-like protrusions. Some masks were more full-faced, masking away features so beautiful they could make an angel weep. They offered her, and each other, smiles that spoke a thousand words, like a thousand shark teeth or knives. Polite society, after all, dictated one hide their violence with soft gestures and careful posture.

Did she stand out too much in her silver gown, which sparkled as though the very stars were woven together? A dress which her mind had conjured from the depths of childhood's memories, wanting to be a Disney princess. Strings of pearls connected to a fine bone white ribbon adorned her chest, dipping into the sweetheart neckline. Her long mousy hair was adorned by matching pearls woven into thin braids, left loose to show her youth. Simple jewelry that attempted not to stand out overmuch. A phantom of Aschenputtel adorned in little glass slippers, just like the tale.

"The princess has come, at last, to sweep away the attention of the prince. " The hushed voices of the guests whispered behind elaborate fans, laughter evident in their voices. How they poked fun at her, a human pet project for their young lord to entertain. "Do you think she intends to stay until the stroke of midnight? Do you think she will run away?"

Heat burned at her cheeks, creeping up her ears. She was self-conscious now, among people she had never known, who were not the familiar seven brothers housing her and her cousin. Those same brothers who had not seemed to mind the freeloader dragged in by Solomon's little mishap. Unable to go home, for the time being. They wouldn't have whispered such things about her, at least, not where she might hear them. If she could find them, or even Madotsuki, she could- no, she would begin to feel safe. Maybe even be safe from their prying eyes, their dagger tongues.

Her fingers carefully curled into the glimmering, shimmering fabric of her ball gown as she moved around the expansive space, turning her head from side to side, large eyes searching for those she could call friend.

From within the throng of moving bodies, of unfamiliar party-goers, she spotted at least one familiar shape. One familiar guest caught up in a small semicircle of companions. He was resplendent in his fantastical midnight blue frock coat, a jabot of ivory silk pinned in place by a sapphire, matching his cufflinks. A vest of the deepest black hugged his frame, silver pipping mapping out the edges, hiding away the snow-white of his shirt tucked into tight black trousers, just as dark as his vest. He was holding aloof a familiar horned mask upon a stick of ebony wood, wrapped in navy ribbon in one gloved hand, his other free and resting just beneath his elbow.

She swallowed hard, turning her gaze away as she strode up to the eldest of the Avatars, steeling herself for the inevitability of her rejection at the hands of the prideful being. As her glass heels clicked upon the marble flooring, she thought for a moment to turn away. To search for another easier to approach sibling. Perhaps Asmodeus, who was so beautiful he was likened to a jewel, or Mammon, the gilded crow who was far grander than anyone knew. She stilled at last, just shy of the elder, her fate sealed before she could truly back away. It took all of her strength to lift her head, to gaze upon one who had always seemed so unapproachable. To her surprise, she found his hand had moved, extended to her, and the familiar mask had fallen into the hands of his dearest and closest friend, the very lord of the manor. With unspoken words did she set her hand within his, and followed him into the swirl of dancers.

It was dizzying, the warmth which crept into her middle, which spread throughout her being. Of all the people to dance with, it was him. The distant and brightest star in all the three worlds. She looked up at him, her brown eyes searching the depths of his crimson-hued eyes, the sweep of his dark bangs which gave way to soft grey casting shadows across his handsome face. There was a softness to the smile upon his face, a warmth in his eyes she was unaccustomed to. Did he consider her to be the loveliest woman at the ball, as all fairy tales demanded? Even the heart-wrenching story of the maid turned princess? All of his attention was on her, after all, his hand resting naturally upon her body, holding her hand with care, settled upon the slope of her side.

They danced as those who were destined did. As though all time had held its breath for this moment, for them to meet and to dance so, drawn into each other's beings. Dancing with him was so easy, so natural, and when he looked upon her, she felt as though she were truly beautiful. And it confused her so, how could he be drawn to someone so doughy and plain?

"Thank you for dancing with me," Mei spoke softly, her voice trembling in her ears. "I-I don't know what to feel..."

Lucifer chuckled, squeezing her hand, "Don’t you?" Amusement colored his deep, rich voice, sending a shiver up her spine. "Know how to feel, that is."

"I thought I did, but I'm not... sure. I don't really know myself." She was flustered, of course, being so close to someone so impossibly handsome. To have been taken as his first dance partner, or so she wished to believe. He was the untouchable elder, the very Avatar of Pride, who wore the title of Right Hand of Lord Diavolo.

"If you don't know yourself, than who do you know?" He was teasing her, but there was nothing malicious in the way he spoke. In the words he chose. He was exceptionally gentle with her, warm where he had previously only shown her a cold indifference, keeping a wall between them which only extended her some protection from his kin. The distance between them would have never allowed either of them to tease the other. Would never allow her this kind of softness. This kind of warmth. Wasn't this a little too perfect? Wasn't this a little too much like a fairytale? The fantasies of some lonely artist?

She found herself lightly chewing upon her lower lip, her eyes darting across his features, gaze briefly climbing to his horns, over his shoulders to gaze at those ludicrously beautiful ebony wings. To take in all those details she had only glimpsed from great distances, and she found that they, indeed, did blur at the edges. Blur like the swirl of bodies, of dancers and music that had attempted to numb her senses.

This wasn't real.

It wasn't a sudden revelation like she might have wished it to be. It was more like being dragged into a fast-streaming river, a startlingly calm river on the surface. Before her, Lucifer's brows rose, knitting together in worry. His lips parted, moving, yet no words formed upon his tongue. No voice dared to stir, to put together some phrase to soothe her, because she did not want to hear him speak. She untangled her hand from his, drew away from the prolonged touch of his other hand upon the curve of her side.

The darkness of the bedroom greeted her searching dark eyes, peeking through the mess of her chestnut brown bangs. There were no candles casting shadows, no dancers snickering behind fans and elaborate masks. No constant stream of music, though the soft scratch and bump of the record player made itself known to her the longer she strained her ears. The record... she turned her head swiftly, long hair catching behind her back, snagging against the chair. The record player sat atop the ornately embellished fireplace, no fire going this evening, filling the room with a sullen gloom.

It took Mei a moment to uncurl herself from the depths of the plush chair, dragging her legs out from beneath the weight of silver satin and bone-white crinoline. Her feet gingerly touched down upon the cool hardwood floors, sticky with the drippings of a long since emptied bottle of wine. Her high heels had been discarded ages ago, long before she had slipped into such a deep and almost pitiful sleep. She stumbled, knees knocking into the small malachite table, the golden chess pieces rocking in place, sliding across the glossy chessboard. A curse threatens to pass her lips, but she doesn't reach down to right them, just as she doesn't reach down to clean up the mess. She reaches up, instead, with her small hands, moving the arm of the record player to start again. To hear the haunting tracks on the black vinyl disc.

As the crooning melody begins, she wobbles back to the chair, to curl into herself once more. She dug around the cushion, searching for the familiar hard case of her D.D.D., all aglow with dozens of updates from devilgram, about the party goers in their beautiful gowns, their splendid tuxedos. A spark of envy, of hurt nestled itself into her heart.

Cinderella wasn't her, for all she wished that were the case. The night she'd dreamed of entertaining, of being entertained by, or better, even welcomed, belonged to those figures on her phone screen. She had dreams, brought on by the acidy-sweet burn of prized demonus and stolen cream puffs and custard. Music, supposedly cursed, surrounding her with more tenderness than the housemates who hadn't remembered to invite her.

She drifted off to the glare of her screen, nearly able to pretend it was that fleeting hand guiding her into another dance.

#writing ; the chorus sings #Obey Me #obey me swd #Lucifer ( Obey Me )#Mei 'Hokusai' ( OC )#writing ; obey me

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dailydaydreamings · 3 years

Text

Best in the Worst Way, Part 11

I have way too much experience with this kind of trauma. One thing I know, the experience isn’t always linear. How you feel jumps from one moment to the next. Maybe this is my way of coping, but for some reason I need to get this all down. Lots of swearing —K

The Reader has been having a love affair with two Avengers and gets caught in a sticky situation. She’s suddenly faced with life decisions she’s not prepared for, including who to love, what she wants, and is this all worth it?

There’s something totally surreal about trauma.

There’s nothing like the feeling of getting a late night call to get to the hospital and fast. It is pure stomach dropping terror.

Realists would know what it means, rushing to the hospital to see their loved ones, potentially for the last time.

Driving to the compound, gnawing on your thumb, you start to wonder how many traumas there are. How many people a year get a call to hurry to the hospital to see their loved ones. Maybe for the last time.

Out of the those cases, how many people are too late? How many show up and their loved ones still die?

Fuck, how bad was it. You ran your hand through your hair as you sat at a stop light, tears streaming down your face.

How much of a liar was Tony? Would he lie and tell you that they were alive if they weren’t, just so you wouldn’t kill yourself driving over?

You wouldn’t have to rush if this light would fucking turn green.

There was no one around, it was nearly midnight...why wait?

You tapped your fingers on the wheel, maybe you weren’t on the sensor and the light would never turn green and Bucky and Steve would die waiting for you...what’s the harm?

Your foot shifted to the gas, cautiously accelerating.

A horn blares and you slam on the gas, barely avoiding an oncoming car.

You think you might have screamed, either way, you wer suddenly pulling your off the road and scrambling out.

You reached for your keys, your hand missing twice.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you finally got hold of your keys and practically fell out of your car. From your knees, you reached for the door handle and pulled yourself up.

Your head swam as you leaned against the car and made your way to the passenger side. As soon as you were off the road, you tossed your keys into the field of grass in front of you.

And immediately regretted it.

“Oh, shit,” you leaned against the hood and stared out at the dark field.

You remembered a rule of dealing with trauma. Take a breath and get control of yourself.

Fact, you shouldn’t have been driving. You cradled your belly, where your children were kicking furiously. You weren’t thinking straight. You were thinking about your boys, not the babies inside of you.

And there was no way you were finding your keys tonight.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and dialed Natasha, she answered on the first ring, “Where are you?! Is everything okay, you should be here by now!”

You closed your eyes, trying to take deep, calming breaths, “Can you please come get me? I’m fifteen minutes out from the compound, sitting on the side of the road. I just about crashed my car.”

Twenty minutes later, Natasha’s car pulled up behind yours and both Natasha and Clint hoped out. At this point, you were spiraling, your breath coming in short pants.

“Fucking Tony!” Natasha slammed her door. “I said, don’t let her drive. You can’t let her drive after telling her something like that!”

“Yelling at Tony isn’t going to solve anything!” Clint snapped at her. He came to stand in front of you, both hands grasping your shoulders. “Everything is going to be fine. Now, where are your keys?”

You pursed your lips, looking over his shoulder at the field. “I kinda...tossed them...”

Clint raised an eyebrow, his head jerking to look out at the long glass. “Oh. Okay. We’re all just gonna get in Natasha’s car. Then I’m gonna go get a metal detector and find your keys!”

You nodded, pushing off your car and stumbled, your head swimming.

“Alright, kiddo,” Clint wrapped an arm around your waste. “Let’s get you in the car.”

“What if they’re dead and Tony’s a liar?” You asked, stumbling as Clint guided you towards Natasha.

“Oh, no,” Natasha open the car door. “We talked to the field team. They’re stable, just a bit of a mess.”

You slid into the passenger seat, stroking your belly, trying to soothe yourself. Clint got into the backseat and Natasha got into the drivers seat.

“I keep thinking about all those silly medical shoes I watched in university, where there’s a trauma and they go from fine to dying in a minute and then the family doesn’t get there on time,” you murmur.

You weren’t sure either of them heard you until Natasha quietly answered, “I’ve seen that happen, in the field. It can happen, but right now, all signs point to them being stable and we will getting to the compound at the same time as they are.”

The light pollution started getting worse the closer you got the compound. For some reason, all you wanted to was run away.

“The babies kicked today for the first time,” you said numbly. “They’re gonna be here soon. I n-need to get a crib, and, um, a diaper bad. Other stuff too. I need to book, uh, birthing classes. Maternity clothes...”

Natasha exchanged a quick glance with Clint, “We can worry about all of that later. We’ll make a list!”

You frown and murmur, “I don’t know how to change a diaper.”

Clint squeezed your shoulder, “You’ll learn, it’s okay!”

You laugh dryly, “Buck was learning. Every spare minute. He was so excited to change diapers.”

“Okay, she’s gonna need something to calm her down,” You hear Clint mumbled to Natasha. You ignore him, choosing to curl up towards the window, watching a helicopter fly towards the compound. Your boys were up there.

———

Panic was surging through your veins, but you shook your head as you strode towards the medical wing.

“How bad is it,” you shout at Tony, trying your best to keep a level head.

He looked up at you from his phone, his hair a mess. “I don’t know,” he called back. “I just know they’re stable and we have two ORs prepped just in case.”

Your eyes focused on the door behind Tony, the boys would come through those door at any second. You came to stop beside him, fiddling with the dainty necklace you always wore.

“I fucking told you she shouldn’t drive,” Natasha hissed at Tony behind you.

You were vaguely aware of Tony throwing his hands in the air. “I just said—”

You turned at spat, “Not fucking helping.”

They exchanged a look, both turning to sit in the waiting chairs and you started to pace.

“I’m gonna kill them,” You say calmly, stroking your belly, your eyes constantly checking the elevator.

Natasha leaned over and whispered to Tony, “She’s gonna need a sedative.”

The elevator dinged and a gurney rolled out. You almost puked.

“What. The. Fuck!” You glared at Tony, who was already scrambling to his feet.

“No one said it was this bad!” He said.

You swallowed, hard, looking down at Steve. He was sedated, his face was bruised and battered, and he had a massive branch through his abdomen.

“It didn’t hit anything serious,” the nurse behind the gurney said. “We’re gonna go straight to the OR and get this taken care of right now.”

You couldn’t helps yourself as you looked down at his face, leaning forward and giving him a quick peck on his lips. “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, Steve.”

“Ma’am,” she said.

“You’re gonna be okay,” you said to him.

“Ma’am,” she insisted. “We have to go now.”

You stepped back, making a point of raising your hands in the air defensively.

You watched them until they turned down the next hallway.

Natasha came up and put her hand on your shoulder, “Are you okay? Do you need to cry?”

You looked up at the ceiling, counting the lights as you let out a long breath, “Not yet.” Not until you saw Bucky. Pregnant or not, hormonal or not, he was not going to see you cry.

The elevator dinged again and chaos erupted.

It happened so fast, Natasha grabbed you and pulled you away from the door. Tony was yelling. So was Bucky.

He was thrashing wildly, despite the restraints.

“Head trauma,” the nurse wheeling the gurney already had a bruise forming on his cheek.

“Buck!” You shouted. He roared in anger and you flattened yourself against the wall.

And he was gone, down the hall.

Natasha looked down at you as you slowly started sliding down the wall.

They weren’t okay. No matter what Tony had said, that wasn’t okay. Steve had a fucking tree through his stomach and Bucky, poor Bucky was stuck in his own head. His most feared prison. This wasn’t going to be like taking the home tomorrow and putting a bandaid over a scratch, this was far, far worse.

“What do you need?” She asked, kneeling in front of you.

“A change of clothes,” you said numbly.

She rubbed your thigh, “Okay, I’ll call Clint to stop by your place, okay?”

You nodded, “Can you ask him to grab my black bag on the stool by the breakfast bar? It has, it has my meds.”

“Of course.”

“And t-there’s this god awful, ugly b-brown blanket on the bed. It’s Bucky’s.” Your voice started to waiver, tears welling in your eyes. “It totally ruins the aesthetic of the room.”

She grasped your hand and you wiped your tears. “I’m sure it does.”

“And, there’s one blue pillow on the bed. The pillow case is blue. Steve sleeps with it every night.”

And the flood gates opened and you started to cry.

———

“The surgery went better than expected,” the surgeon told you.

You wiped a stray tear from your face. “It-it did?” You hiccuped.

“Absolutely it did,” she gave you a warm smile. “And with his DNA, he’s gonna be just fine and walking around in no time.”

You nodded, “Thank you.” Your voice broke and she gave your shoulder a squeeze. “I’m not normally a m-mess. I’m just pregnant.”

She laughed, “It’s okay, I can tell. He’s gonna need some support, but remember to take care of yourself, okay?”

You nodded, “Can I see him?”

“Of course, this way,” she directed you to walk down the hallway.

Your heart almost stopped when you saw him. He looked massive in that bed. He didn’t really fit, it didn’t look right to see Captain America in a hospital bed. Monitors beeped steadily at his side, the only real proof to you he was alive.

You hugged his lumpy pillow to you left chest. It still smelled like him.

You stared at the monitor, counting the insistent beeping, making sure he was still breathing...

“Is that for him,” a nurse said, rubbing hand sanitizer on her hands as she came in. You were still standing in the door way, starring, twenty minutes later.

“Um, yeah,” you answered, shaking your head to get out of whatever spell the monitor had put you under. “Can you...”

She smiled at you warmly, “Of course, hon.” She gently took the pillow from you, breaking the spell.

You stumbled forward, sitting down in the chair beside his bed.

“You can hold his hand,” she said, readjusting his pillows.

“We haven’t been in a good place,” you admitted, “for months. He wanted me to get an abortion and then he didn’t and I just, I pushed him away. I don’t know if he’d want me here but I-I can’t not be here.”

The nurse paused, coming to sit down in the chair opposite to you. “He’s going to want you to be here when you wake up. No matter what happened, he’s going to want you by his side.”

You looked down at your hands, playing with your fingers. “I don’t know what to say to him. Because I’m still mad, honestly. I want to kick his ass.”

She laughed and so did you, wiping a tear from your face.

The nurse cleared her throat, “It isn’t my place, but you don’t have to forgive him. But you’re going to end up throwing everything away if you’re not here when he wakes up.”

You nodded your thanks, reaching over and taking Steve’s hand.

———

“Y/n?” Steve voice woke you from your sleep on the cot beside his bed, you scrambled for the light before reaching for his hand.

His deep blue eyes looked up at you with so much pain and confusion.

“What do you need?” You asked, cupping his face. “Are you in pain?”

He shook his head, trying hard to swallow. You reached for a cup of water, knowing his throat probably felt like sandpaper after intubation.

“Where’s Bucky?” He asked.

You looked up at his monitors to avoid his eye, “They won’t let me see him. The meds aren’t working, he’s in a fury. They said that they’re giving him medication to calm him down, sedating him, and they’re going to try to wake him up soon.”

Steve’s grip on your hand tightened. “You should be with him.”

You leaned down and kissed his forehead, “This fight between us is no where close to over but you are still a big part of my life and I love you. I need to be here for both my boys and he will need me soon.”

There were tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry, for everything. Bucky and I had a fight about it and, I’m not ready for everyone to know about the three of us.”

You nodded, understanding his fear.

“But,” he continued, “I don’t want to be the uncle. I want to be the dad. So, I’m here and I want to be here, for both of you.”

A tear dripped down your face, you leaned forward and brought your lips to his.

“Mrs y/l/n,” a man cleared his throat at the door. You turned to see some poor intern wringing his hands at the sight of Captain America.

“Yes?” You asked.

He broke his stare with Steve and said, “I’ve been asked to inform you they’re waking up Mr Barnes and you said you wanted to be there.”

You exchanged a look with Steve. He squeezed your hand and you walked to your bag in the corner, pulling out Bucky’s blanket.

Steve asked quietly, “Will you see if Bucky can be transferred into the same room soon? That way she doesn’t need to go in between our rooms.”

You raised an eyebrow in surprise, but the intern nodded and scurried off.

You gave Steve’s hand one more squeeze, “I’ll be back soon.”

You walked down the hall until you found the room where they were administering some medication to wake Bucky up. Your mouth went dry, he was still restrained.

“Can we get some of these restraints off,” you asked coolly, striding into the room and sitting beside the bed, the blanket in your lap. “He’s not an animal.”

“Mr Barnes is prone to violence following sedation,” the doctor tells you. You grit your teeth at that but let it go. “This could take some time, someone will be just outside if he acts out.”

You didn’t bother to point out that they had him chained down and he couldn’t right now.

Instead, you played with a frayed edge of the blanket. Steve adoringly called it Bucky’s baby blanket. It obviously wasn’t, but it was the blanket he’d slept with since living in Bucharest, it was with him in Wakanda, and he slept with it every night since.

At this point, it was more patch ups than blanket though. When the boys had moved in, the only thing Bucky brought was this ugly blanket full of holes. Trying, in vain, to make it look better to preserve the feel of your room, you learned to patch it up. It was now an assortment of browns and fabrics, but it didn’t seem to change the spirit of the blanket.

“Hey,” Bucky said. You looked up to find him looking at you, a frown on his face. “Did I hurt anyone?” He asked.

“No,” you lie. “You were just a little, um, enraged. You had some head trauma.”

He nodded, “Can I get out of these things?” He moved the restraints for emphasis.

You nodded, calling out to the nurse outside the room. He came in, and after assessing Bucky, removed the restraints.

“How’s Steve?” Bucky asked.

“He’s okay,” you answer. “He had tree go through his stomach but he’ll be fine.”

Bucky nodded, not bothering to sit up. But he ran his hand through his hair. He turned his head to look at you, his eyes focusing on the blanket.

“Is that my blanket?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded, “I thought you might want something to give you some comfort. Do you want it?”

His eyes crinkled from a small smile. “Yes, thank you.”

You stood, unfolding the blanket and spreading it over him. You looked up at him to see if he was satisfied, but Bucky was staring at your belly.

“Buck?” You asked.

“You’ve gotten...bigger,” he murmured.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, stroking a hand down your belly. “Yeah, and they’ve been kicking up a storm, would you believe it?”

He frowned, “I didn’t realize you were sleeping with anyone.”

Your blood ran cold.