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[shermanluxurygroupsblog]

This prestigious community and Luxury Homes in Harbor Beach in Fort Lauderdale is attracting more and more attention and for good reasons. It offers stunning waterfront properties, exclusive amenities, and a warm, welcoming atmosphere.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"A Family for Christmas"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem. reader/"you"

Tags: Christmas fluff, kid fic, p in v sex, oral sex, fingering, a/b/o, adoption, infertility struggles, pregnancy, breeding kink, fluff & smut, somnophilia, "Daddy/Momma" kink, actual Daddy kink

Word count: 8400

Summary: On Christmas Eve, you and Bucky plan a special surprise to tell the girls you want to adopt them. Little does Bucky know, you have a special surprise for him, too.

Bucky wakes early that morning to a bedroom suffused with the faint light of pre-dawn, the sun not yet having risen high enough to creep past the edges of your bedroom's south-facing windows.

When the girls first came to live with you, he'd made sure that their bedroom was the one with the west-facing windows—on a bit of advice from Sam, who claims that it can occasionally buy a little extra kid-free time in the mornings. That advice seems to be bearing out, as Bucky closes his eyes again and feels the stillness of the house, and then your quiet breathing in the bed beside him. He uses his enhanced hearing to listen for any sounds of movement outside the bedroom—an only recently acquired habit of necessity, and one which he'll never in a million years complain about. His heart is full, now that he finally has to listen for the pattering of little feet before he can reach for you.

The edges of his mouth curl up when he doesn't hear any sign of rustling from the girls, and just like that, he's suddenly twice as aware of his morning erection as he was before. He stretches his spine without moving his limbs and inhales deeply, blinking his eyes open. One hand comes up to stifle a yawn as the other one trails down over his stomach, between his legs, and curls over the achy line of his cock. He gives it an absentminded squeeze where he's half hard from sleep. "Hmm."

To his right, the bedroom windows are frost-kissed, the world outside covered in a blanket of white. And there are big, fluffy flakes still falling steadily. For a very split second, he forgets about his cock as his chest fills with warmth at the thought of how excited the girls are going to be. It hasn't snowed yet this year. Hasn't been cold enough. But the temperature took a dive over this past weekend and has remained below freezing ever since. Win had come home from her preschool class last week having learned a "snow dance," which she's been faithfully repeating each morning, noon and night, in hopes of getting a white Christmas. Being from Florida, the only place she’s ever seen snow is in a very particular Disney movie. Bucky's mouth twitches at the buildup he can see through the frosted windows. Looks like all the dancing paid off. It's the first snow of the year and it's a heavy one—thick and powdery, like an image off a postcard. And right before the holidays, too.

A white Christmas, Bucky thinks. God, could this year get any better? He answers his own question with an emphatic 'yes', when he catches your scent on his next inhale.

Oh. Right.

It's probably indecent to hold thoughts of Christmas and the kiddos in such close proximity to the baser ones of arousal and sex that sidle up right alongside them, at that first good lungful of your scent. But if it is, Bucky's too shameless to care. His cock twitches against his palm as more blood rushes south.

He gives it one more, indulgent squeeze before turning over in your direction and sidling up behind you. His hand slips over your waist and his hips snuggle up against your bum. You're still asleep, he can tell from your breathing and the laxity of your body. He smiles and hums beneath his breath, enjoying the moment for himself. He nuzzles against your hair and the back of your neck, taking in the scent of your shampoo, your skin, and a growing secret. The best kind of secret. A Christmas miracle.

You haven't told him yet. Either from nerves or from wanting it to be a perfectly-timed surprise, you’ve kept it to yourself for weeks. Bucky thinks it’s adorable that you think he doesn’t know. You’re his whole heart, but every time he re-remembers that you're carrying his child, he swears he falls impossibly more in love with you. He's impatient and eager to be able to talk about it, to gush, to “nest,” as the baby books call it nowadays. But he doesn't want to ruin the surprise that he’s sure you’re planning. He's being patient so that you can have that special moment of the big reveal. He won't spoil that for you by letting it slip that he knows. Lord knows you may never get the chance again.

The two of you have tried for so long. Years and years. So long that you’d actually stopped trying and accepted that “God had a reason for everything,” and that a family would have to come some other way. Bucky doesn’t have as deep of or as dogmatic a faith as you do—he’s always been open to trying IVF or surrogacy, but you’ve been adamantly against it, calling it selfish, wasteful, and greedy. He doesn’t necessarily agree with that, but he’ll never argue against it, not when it’s what brought the girls into your life.

He listens carefully for any noise beyond the bedroom door again, but still hears nothing. He hums in pleasure and lets his erection press up against your behind, nuzzling the scent rich crook of your neck as he starts up a lazy roll of his hips. He’s expecting you to wake, but as the seconds tick by and you remain asleep, a naughty little thrill grows inside his gut; one that goads him on and makes him wonder how much he could get away with before you wake up. Grinning, he kisses lightly over your bond mark, only letting his tongue slip out to taste your skin after another moment. His right arm curls over your waist, hand sliding over the softness of your lower belly in a way that makes his cock throb. God, he thinks as he holds you there, a repressed groan aching in his throat. Right there. It’s right there inside of you, growing day by day, little by little. A piece of you and him.

Sweetheart, he thinks, wanting so badly to praise you, to kiss every inch of your body and tell you what a magical, wonderful creature you are, his omega, his wife, his mate. For a split second he almost loses control, as a surge of lust and possessiveness rolls through him. He manages to quell it though, forcing it back with clenched teeth and tensed abdominals. He keeps his touch on your belly soft and gentle because he doesn’t want you to wake, not yet. Carefully, he lets his fingers splay wide to cup where you aren’t yet showing—not by much, at least. You’re nowhere near needing maternity wear, body not having changed enough for anybody to tell the difference when your clothes are on. But naked, he can tell the difference.

There are always tons of cookies and pies around the house this time of year, the both of you putting on a little seasonal pudge most winters. Bucky likes it. It’s why December through January are his favorite months to fuck you, funnily enough. By the time you start talking about dieting and hitting the gym again every February or March, he’s always forced to say goodbye to that extra softness. He’s never told you any of this, lest you bite his head off for saying he prefers the weight—or “fluff,” as he calls it in his head. He’d probably have attributed the weight gain to the time of year, if he didn’t have your scent to know better. He’s got no clue how far along you are, but he’s been able to smell it clearly for half a month now. These past two weeks have changed you, your scent stronger and sweeter, carrying notes of yeasted dough and pancake syrup underneath your usual juniper and vanilla scent. Your normally flat belly fills out his palm a little better now, and it does things to Bucky, to touch it like this, to feel the place where he knows there’s life inside of you, a baby that he put there. He can’t wait to watch you grow, to see it, to feel it.

He has to hold himself back from the rumbling growl that wants to form, stifling it in his throat and grinding his cock against the plush swell of your ass for relief. You make a sweet little hum of a noise in your sleep, and he thrills with that gleeful naughtiness again as he smooths his hand back up your stomach and waits for you to calm. You do, remaining asleep, and Bucky sets his mouth to your shoulder so he can look over and watch the trajectory of his hand as he brings it up to cup your breast.

So soft.

He’s always amazed at how incredibly soft you are all over. Low body fat and toned muscles seem to be what’s in these days, but Bucky will never understand. How could he ever want anything but this? This feminine, accommodating softness that gives so beautifully to his touch? Fuck. He lets his thumb swipe out against your nipple, whisper-soft, back and forth, until he feels it pebble underneath his touch. The feeling makes him smile against your skin. Such a good girl, he thinks. You’re always so responsive to his touch, even when you’re fast asleep.

He gives the tip of your breast a little press between his fingers. Not even a pinch, not really. Only as much as he knows he can get away with without drawing you from your slumber. Then he slides his hand back down to explore between your legs. He skims his fingers as far as your closed legs allow, but it isn’t far enough, so he eases his thigh forward against yours, encouraging you to part your legs, holding his breath as he waits to see if it’ll wake you. But to his delight it doesn’t. You barely even stir, making a soft little sigh in your sleep and smacking your lips before settling again, and fuck, why does that turn him on so bad? Maybe it’s the thrill of getting away with something, of having you all to himself, not having to share you with anybody else—not even you.

That’s what it is, he thinks, cock aching and leaving sticky trails of precum on your ass where he’s just barely rubbing off against you. It’s that you’re so perfect, so perfectly sweet and all for him, responding just like you should even without meaning to. And he’s the only one who gets to do this, to see this, have this. The only one who gets to experience you this way. It’s so thrilling to see how far he can push it, how much acquiescence he can coax from your perfect body without you knowing it. He holds his breath and lets the pad of his forefinger graze your clit, just barely, applying almost no pressure as he moves it infinitesimally back and forth in little, nudging motions, pushing your delicate skin this way and that. Awakening that spot gradually enough that it won’t wake you.

He lets his tongue trace over the scar tissue of your bond mark while he does it, giving you a line of heat and sensation from your two most sensitive erogenous zones. Bucky woke up hard, so he’s had a head start on you in the arousal department from the very beginning, but he can feel it as your body sends blood south, your clit growing puffy and swollen, lips blooming open, wetness greeting his fingers on the next pass he makes over your entrance. “There you go, Sweetheart,” he breathes, not even a whisper, pleased and even more turned on when you give a little shiver in your sleep. Subconsciously, your hips begin to move, chasing the pleasure that you aren’t even aware you’re feeling. Bucky chuckles and lets the tip of his finger dip into your entrance, just to the first knuckle, over and over again to tease and coax more of that sweet nectar out of you. “Atta girl,” he praises softly, dragging his slicked fingers back up through your folds, spreading it around. “So fucking sweet.”

In your sleep you make a low, whining sound, your hips chasing his hand. He gives your body what it’s instinctively seeking, flattening his fingers and starting up a slow, gentle motion over your clit. He rubs in lazy circles, hoping that the steadiness of the pressure will be enough to keep you from waking. He doesn’t want you to wake. Not yet. He stops touching you for a brief moment to take his cock in hand and drag it back and forth through your soaked folds, coating himself in you with another stifled curse. Just this, he thinks, as he lines himself up at the right angle and starts to push inside. Just this, just the tip. He just wants to get inside while you’re still asleep, wants you to wake up and have it be the first thing you feel, wants to hear the hitch of emerging consciousness in your breath and feel you clamping down on him as you wake.

He pushes in, your body tight enough that he needs to go slowly to make sure he doesn’t hurt you. It helps that you’re wet. God, so incredibly wet. And all for him. Yes. He grits his teeth through the push, overcome by the exquisite feeling of your body opening up to him, all that tight, velvet fucking heat. Fuck. He groans and pulls you back against him as he bottoms out and grinds a little, his hip bones up against your chubby little ass. His fingers dig a little more harshly into your waist than he means for them to, and he can tell that that’s exactly when you wake up, because your body suddenly stiffens in awareness … and then shivers loose as you moan. “Hey, Sweetheart,” he whispers, kissing your neck and continuing to grind deep inside. His hand on your waist slides back over your belly and down between your legs. He starts pressing gentle circles over your clit again while he fucks you with slow, shallow thrusts.

You whimper and let out a soft, “Ohn,” that just about does him in, a sleepy, aroused and confused, “Bucky?” following right after.

“M’right here.” He kisses a line up your neck, all the way to the shell of your ear. “Right here, Doll. How’s that feel? You don’t mind that I put it in, do you baby? Just couldn’t stop myself. M’sorry. You looked so good lying here, all soft n’ sweet. Just had to. Had to feel this sweet pussy on my cock. Couldn’t wait. Wanted to see you wake up feeling good.” Your vulnerable little whine makes his cock throb, and he coos along with you. “Shhh, I know, I know. It’s okay, Sweetie. Just enjoy it. Gonna make it so good for you, I swear. Gonna make you cum. You don’t even gotta do anything, okay? Mm mn, promise. I’ll do all the work. Gonna make you feel so good, babygirl.”

“M'kay daddy …”

He’s ninety percent sure you say it without meaning to, but it makes his mouth curl darkly anyways, as he slips his other arm underneath you and brings it up to your neck with a murmured, “Yeah Sweetheart?” Just like always, your cunt flutters madly the second he’s got his hand on your throat, holding you back against him as he kisses your bondmark and keeps working steady circles over your clit. He can feel your body beginning to tremble as you get close, and he purrs in encouragement, still fucking you languidly, being sure to angle it the way he knows gets at that spot inside. “S’that good?” he whispers, dragging lips over your skin and relishing the shudder he gets. He already knows the answer, he just wants to make you say it, because he knows how hard it is for you to say anything at times like this. You’re a typical omega in that way: quick to dissolve into sobs and babbles, unable to produce much coherent speech once you’re feeling good, half your brain offline for the focus that’s between your legs, too lost in your own pleasure to be useful for anything else. Bucky relishes it, every time. He prompts you again, giving a gentle squeeze to your neck to encourage you. “Tell me baby, c’mon.”

You give the sweetest little whine and nod your head, your heavy swallow felt against his palm. “Y-yeah.”

“Good girl,” he praises, hips working in time with the slow motion of his fingers. “What do you need? Want me to stay like this, or go a little harder?”

You shudder in his arms from the question alone, already reduced to a boneless puddle in his arms. “This,” you manage to eke out in between your needy whimpers. “Nnngh … th–this.”

“Okay, Honey. Okay.” He keeps fucking you like that: lazy, early-morning sex, hips rolling luxurious and slow, pressing up on your ass with each indulgent slide in, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge, your cunt weeping so much that it’s obscene the way your slick gets all over his thighs and yours, his balls, his pubic hair. When you finally shudder and start to come, he hugs you tightly back against his body and stays buried, rubbing down on your clit and giving you deep-seated grinds to work you through it as he murmurs endless praise into your skin, telling you how good you are, how pretty, how perfect. “Ooh, that’s it, there it is. Just like that, huh? There’s a girl, just like that, ooh. You’re so good for me, Sweetheart. Fuck. So good.”

Your pleasured sob sparks something primal in him, and even though he wasn’t close before, he suddenly is, his belly spilling over with arousal at the sound of your cries and the feeling of your sweet cunt locking down on him in orgasm. “Fuck,” he grunts shakily, vision losing focus as his knot swells, growing inside you rapidly. You cry out at the feeling of it, and he quickly covers your mouth with his hand, muffling his own moan against your neck as his knot pops all the way and catches against the desperate lock of your body. “Ohfuck. Shh sh sh, Sweetheart, the—fuck—ohh, the girls,” he gasps against your skin, humping hard against your tie as he just barely remembers that the two of you have to be quiet these days.

You sob behind his hand, too lost in your instincts to obey. “Hmmph, mmm!” It’s muffled, your hot breath against his palm and straining body under his hold pulling a growl from his chest, though he fights to hold it in. He can’t help it, he loves it when you struggle.

“Fuck, baby, fuck. You feel s-so fuckin’ good …” You squeal as he tugs his knot against your tie again and again, triggering you into a second orgasm. You squirt this time because you’re knotted, the space between your bodies and the sheets getting wet from it. Bucky’s already in the middle of his climax, too lost in the pleasure to really notice, at least for that next minute or so. He always comes hard with you, his body recognizing its mate and knowing it’s safe to be lost to the world for those few, delirious moments. By the time the most intense part is done and he’s back in his head again, you’re crying, sobbing softly against his palm as he fucks a third, and then fourth orgasm from you. “Shhh,” he soothes, sucking over your  bondmark to show you he’s back with you again. “M’here, ‘mega. I’m here. I’ve got you.” He’s still coming, balls contracting in slower pulses as he fills you with his cum. The thought of breeding you up makes him groan and close his teeth against your glands, even though logically he knows that nothing can take, not when you’re already pupped up. He groans all over again and puts his hand back over your lower belly, feeling that barely-there slope where you’re growing his baby.

Fuck, his fucking baby. He bites down without meaning to—hard enough to draw blood. Your squeal brings him back to his senses and he lets up, kissing the skin where he’s bitten in apology. “Sorry, Sweetheart, m’sorry, sorry.”

You aren’t upset, if the smell is anything to go by. He brings his hand back down to your clit and starts rubbing circles again. “Gonna cum again?” he rasps.

“Bucky, no. I c-can’t.”

“Sure you can,” he rumbles, pushing down hard on your clit and tugging his knot hard enough that it’s actually faintly uncomfortable for him. But he doesn’t care, he does it for you, because he wants another one out of you and he can feel your body getting ready for it even as you whine and grab onto his wrist where he’s rubbing your clit. “One more,” he husks against your neck, tasting the blood that’s pricked to the surface. “C’mon, one more baby. One more to make me a daddy.”

He doesn’t know why he says it, maybe it’s another way to try and get you to tell him the good news, even though he’s promised himself he won’t rush you into telling. All he knows is that your body shudders in his arms when he says it, your cunt quivering around him as you helplessly fall into another orgasm.

“There’s a girl,” he praises, wrapping both arms around your middle in a big hug to let you come down from it. “So gorgeous, Sweetheart. Feels so good.” He holds your body tight to his as he finishes coming, hips slowing down from a gentle roll into nothing as the both of you catch your breath. The room’s silence seems to shrink, as the both of you come back to your senses and he strokes softly over your stomach. He doesn’t let himself settle his hand on your belly again, knowing that it could tip you off that he knows, if he goes cradling you there too much all of a sudden. Instead he splays his hand out wide just beneath your breasts, pulling you tight to him and rolling onto his back. You huff a surprised little laugh as the move jostles you backwards with him, his knot tugging just a bit more from the angle once you’re resting on top of him.

“Bucky,” you huff, amused.

He tightens his arms around you stubbornly and stuffs his face in your neck. “Mmm, what.”

You laugh again, then ‘yip’ in surprise and fall into a fit of giggles when he humps up against you in retaliation. He growls playfully, though he’s grinning against your skin where you can’t see. “Mmm, hold still, ‘mega. I’m busy.”

“Busy doing what?” you laugh.

“Mmmr. Marking my territory.” He says it in a gruff voice that makes you giggle again, and he digs his fingers into your waist where you’re ticklish.

“Oof! Ha! Buck-ee, nooo!” You shriek, body heaving with laughter (and then a bit of a moan at the end there, too, when your squirming causes his knot to tug hard against your tie.)

He hums in pleasure at the way your breathless laughter turns back into that soft sound of pleasure, and some of his playfulness fades as he hugs you tightly back against him again, both arms wrapped snug around your middle as his mouth finds its way back to the crook of your neck. “Hmmm,” he sighs, feeling sated and almost incandescently happy. Without really meaning to, his one hand winds up resting lower on your belly, and he strokes the soft stretch of skin between your navel and your groin. “You lie here and be my good girl ‘n’ hold still now,” he purrs, deciding off the cuff to try and provoke a revelation out of you. “Might’a knocked you up, just now. Gotta make sure it takes.”

Your giggles fade completely and you go very still on top of him. He holds his breath, thinking that maybe, just maybe you’re about to say something, that you’ll finally decide it’s time to tell him that you’re pregnant. He busies himself with kissing and sucking your bondmark, feigning nonchalance while you work up the nerve. He hears you lick your dry lips, feels your delicate hands land on top of his at your waist and your belly. “Bucky,” you say, and his heartbeat quickens because he can tell from the tone of your voice that you’ve decided it’s time. “I have to tell you something.”

“Hm?” he acts unconcerned, even manages to think of saying dryly: “Please don’t tell me you forgot to get something for the cookies? The stores are gonna be nuts today.”

You huff in exasperation and he silently congratulates himself on an act well-played. “No, we’re fine on ingredients. … Babe, I’m—” Your words are abruptly cut off by the sudden sound of tiny feet ‘thwapping’ down the hallway. Bucky thinks, shit! just as you go rigid and squeak, “Oh no!”

You both grab for the covers in a mad scramble to cover up. You’re the one who actually manages to grab them, and you pull them up over the both of you in record time. Bucky grabs your hips and turns onto his side, dumping you back in front of him just as the doorknob moves. “Fuck, fuck,” he hisses, as the sudden change in position pulls on his knot. You make an adorkable little squeak of a noise and he starts kind of panic-laughing against your shoulder as you clutch the sheets to your chest.

“Shhh-sh-shh!” You’re slapping backwards at him, mostly hitting his thigh and falling into some contagious snickering yourself, when the door busts open and two little girls with bleary eyes, Christmas jammies, and some very messy hair come tumbling in.

“Mommeeee!”

“Buckeeee!”

“It snowed, it snowed, it snoooowed!”

Bucky’s still got his cock buried in you, and he can’t seem to stop cracking up against the back of your neck as you scramble for an explanation for the girls as to why you’re all sweaty and why they have to go back to their room for a few minutes before Mommy and Bucky can take them outside to play in the snow.

Lily is only twenty months old and doesn’t have her hearing aids in, so she’s really just following her sister’s lead more than what’s being said, the excitement of the moment making her squeal in joy as Winnie keeps asking over and over again if Santa has come, and if they can build a snowman like Olaf.

Bucky rests his forehead against your upper back and feels that liquid-gold feeling begin to fill his heart again, as he listens to Winnie’s excitement and Lily’s semi-coherent babbling, and you speaking to them both in your “mommy” voice, reminding them that Santa isn’t coming until tonight, when they’re asleep. Winnie is frustrated that she has to wait a whole other day, but you placate her with promises of all the fun things they’re going to get to do today, if only they stay patient for a few more minutes.

“How many minutes?” Winnie asks, and you stammer a bit as you try to think.

“Erm, um …”

“About ten,” Bucky murmurs against your back.

“Ten minutes, Sweetie,” you say, and Bucky chuckles again and humps against your tie once, just to be a jerk. You make a little sound of surprise, but to your credit you manage to cover it up with a fake cough, and more instructions for Winnie. “Um, now go on back to your room and, ahhm … just wait for me to come get you, okay? If you want to play in the snow today, you have to go and wait patiently. That’s the rules.”

Where most kids might whine and complain and stomp and beg, Winnie gets real quiet and serious and straightens her spine like she’s taking down instructions for a very important task. “Okay Mommy,” she agrees, her curls tossing as she nods her head. “Here we go. We’ll do a good job.”

Bucky’s heart breaks a little at how serious she sounds, because he knows that she honestly believes that her day of fun in the snow depends on it (just like he already knows that you’re already holding back a wince in front of him, regretful for having phrased it that way). Win still doesn’t yet fully understand that nice things won’t be taken away from her here, and that she doesn’t have to worry about making “mistakes” anymore.

“Okay, Win,” he hears you say kindly, though there’s a slight warble of sadness in your voice. “Good job. I’ll see you in a few minutes. You can play with your toys until I come get you.”

“Okay Mommy. Don’t worry. We’ll be quiet.”

Ouch. Bucky hides his wince against your shoulder, and your voice kind of cracks when you manage to eke out a halting reply of, “Oh. That’s … That’s okay, Win. You don’t have to be quiet, just play nice, okay? I’ll come get you soon. … Love you, Sweetie.”

No child should look like they’ve been given the keys to the kingdom, when they’re told they’re loved. It should be commonplace, an everyday thing that gets a smile and a thoughtlessly-chirped “love you too” in response, not a wobbling chin and big, watery, amazed eyes. But that’s how Winnifred still reacts, even after all these months. And especially with you, her Mommy. She hasn’t quite made it to “Daddy” yet, since men are scary to her still, but Bucky’s just glad that she’s been warming up to him this holiday season. His heart squeezes mightily as the little girl reaches down for Lily’s chubby hand and takes it in hers, just like a little grown up. “We’re gonna play bears,” she tells her sister, and tugs her along authoritatively. “C’mon Lily.”

Once they’re out of the room and the door is shut, the both of you release your breath in sync. “Ugh,” you say, and he nods against your back and groans softly in agreement.

“We gotta get a doorknob that locks,” he mutters. It’s the same thing he’s been saying for weeks, but he really means it now. This is a little bit funny and not at all sexy. Normally his knots take no less than ten to fifteen, and he can already feel himself ebbing. “M’gonna go to the hardware store,” he grumbles, hands returning to explore your body. He feels you huff in amusement more than he hears it. “I am.”

“Thought you said the stores would be crazy today.”

“Hmph.” He cups your lower belly again hopefully, but it doesn’t prompt anything out of you. “I’ll go after Christmas,” he decides, which makes you giggle.

“Sure you will.”

“I will! Right after.” The stores really will be nuts today, and with all the snow, he’s got zero intention of going anywhere other than out to build an Olaf. “Ugh,” he groans, as he remembers that you have a driveway now. And a property line with a sidewalk. “Blugh.”

“What?”

“Gonna have to shovel,” he mourns. He thinks fondly of how the two of you used to live in a nice apartment complex—complete with snow removal service and a heated parking garage. “Remind me why we moved out here again?” he says, kissing up to your bondmark and nuzzling there. “Was it something to do with a sudden acquisition of … little creatures?”

“Mmm. So the girls can have a yard to play in,” you say. It sounds like you’re smiling with your eyes closed, and it makes Bucky smile too.

He wraps both arms fully back around you again, sighing happily. “Right,” he says softly. “Now I remember.”

You’re secretly grateful for the girls bursting in that morning. They’d saved you from a moment of weakness. And you’ve been planning such a cute little way to tell Bucky the good news. The Amazon package of what you need for your surprise arrived yesterday, and now it’s Christmas eve, getting dim outside as evening approaches, and you’re finally about to get to do what you’ve dreamed of doing for years.

Tell your husband that you’re pregnant with his child.

You can’t seem to stop smiling about it, even as you face off against the aftermath of an afternoon of cookie making. Bucky must’ve grabbed every single variety of sprinkles off the grocery store shelves, you’re convinced. And some of them even wound up on the cookies!

The rest are decorating your table and the kitchen floor.

The zippers of the girls’ snowsuits ‘tick’ around in the dryer as they tumble through a cycle behind the laundry room door, a bit of comforting background noise to the holiday music Bucky’s got streaming for the girls. It’s a soundtrack from one of those stop-motion Christmas specials that always run on network tv this time of year—something about misfit toys. Your mouth ticks up where you’re crouched down on the floor with the dustpan, as you hear Bucky responding with the occasional happy comment from over in the living room. The girls are in there with him, bopping around on a sugar high, dancing to the music in their Christmas outfits. You hear Winnie squawk to Bucky to “watch! watch this one Bucky!” at something she’s doing, and shortly thereafter, a bit of clapping and Bucky saying, “aw good job, Win, that was a good one.”

He really loves those girls, you think warmly. Bucky prefers the old-timey Christmas songs from back in his day—Nat King Cole and Perry Como and Bing Crosby, that sort of stuff. But he’s been cheerfully putting up with the goofy kids’ music all afternoon. There’ve been so many little things like that, since you started fostering the girls; small ways that he’s changed for them, to be a good father. Despite the trepidation you’d both felt in the beginning, parenting just seems to have come naturally to the both of you. “Mommy” is a recent development, with Winnie only having started calling you that since around the end of October. You’d taken her trunk-or-treating with your local mom’s group, and you could see that it was her hearing all the other kiddos exclaiming “Mommy, mommy, mommy!” over their candy hauls that had tipped her over the edge, wanting to fit in and have a “Mommy” too.

With Bucky it’s a little different, and you both understand why. Every small moment of connection between him and the girls has been counted as progress, and he’s been so good with them, so patient. It even makes you tear up sometimes, when you catch him in a particularly tender moment with the girls. Winnie still keeps her distance from him in certain ways, but it’s been getting less and less, and Lily’s young enough that she doesn’t remember as much of her home life from before. She trusts Bucky completely. She’ll often put her arms out to be picked up, or want to sit in his lap. That’s what can really get the waterworks going for you. Especially these days. Pregnancy hormones are no joke.

You’re drawn from your musings at the sound of toenails clacking across the kitchen linoleum. “Oh. Hey Fred.” Normally sentient Fred has deigned to leave his spot by the furnace vent to help you in your clean up efforts. “Mighty generous of you, lazybones,” you say to the basset hound on his next snuffling pass-by. His ears seem to be picking up as many sprinkles as his actual tongue does. You roll your eyes and move onto another spot with the dustpan.

“Okay girls, big smiles. Win, why don’t you hold Lily’s hand for this one?”

The girls shuffle closer together where they’re sitting on the hearth, with Winnie obediently taking hold of Lily’s pudgy little hand. Just before Bucky snaps the picture, Lily giggles and rests her head of curls on Winnie’s shoulder. Bucky beams and gets the photo. “Great job, Sweetie! Oh gosh, that was a good one.” 

Winnie’s already reaching for her halo that you made her take off for at least some of the pictures. Lily claps and picks up her Santa hat and yanks it back on her head. “ ‘Ta!” she says, her way of referring to Santa (it took a while to figure that one out.) She makes the sign for sleep, and you feel emotion well up behind your eyes again. You smile and sign no. “Not yet, Sweetie,” you tell her and sign. “But real soon.” 

“We still have to put Santa’s cookies out,” Bucky says to get the girls excited. “And Elfie’s gotta turn on the outside lights.”

Elfie is currently on the wall, rock climbing up some Christmas bows. You’ve convinced Winnie that Elfie uses his Christmas Magic every night to turn on the colored lights that Bucky’s strung up on all the bushes outside. And anything Winnie believes, Lily automatically believes, too. The girls both gasp and run (well, Lily toddles) to the front window, where Winnie chant’s “Elfie, Elfie!” and Lily follows along with “fee, fee, fee!”

You reach for your iPad on the couch cushion, opening the garage’s app and tapping the control to turn the lights on, and Winnie and Lily’s delighted shrieks hit the air. They have their noses pressed up against the window, their gaping mouths making condensation form on the glass, which they keep giggling and wiping off. “Buckee! Mommee! Olaf got the lights!”  

“Oh, wow. Isn’t that something?” 

Bucky had snuck out while the girls were donning their costumes earlier and added a strand of lights across the newly-built snowman’s stick arms. You catch his eye from over top of your iPad, right at the end of rolling your eyes and grinning. He’s grinning too, and both of your smiles soften into something tender, the girls’ fuss over the lights outside fading to background noise somehow. Love you, Mommy, Bucky mouths.

Oh no. You blink your eyes rapidly to make the tears building up behind them go away, and Bucky chuckles at you because he knows what’s up. You wave your hand at him with a scoff. Damn pregnancy hormones. He probably thinks you’re turning into the biggest sentimental sap these days. If only he knew the real cause behind it. He will soon. “Okay okay, enough of that. Christmas lights aren’t going anywhere. Let’s get this tree decorated!” You clap your hands and wave the girls over, impatient to get to the box of ornaments waiting to go up.

You and Bucky have each chosen the holiday traditions that are most important to you, to share with the girls this year. Christmas is mostly foreign to them, every new thing you introduce extra magical in their eyes, because the closest they ever came to “Christmas” before you was a mall Santa that, according to Winnie, had hugged too much and didn’t smell very nice. So you and Bucky both want to make this year special for them. You’ve crammed as many winter activities into the last few days as possible, and already today you’ve made sugar cookies, decorated them, (cleaned up the friggin’ sprinkles), played in the snow, and built an Olaf. Attending the four o’clock mass with the children’s nativity play was your tradition, and now that evening is drawing in, it’s time for Bucky’s. His family always put up their tree on Christmas eve when he was growing up, which seems like a gigantic waste of twenty-six perfectly good tree days to you, but it’s meaningful to him. So, you figure what better way to sneak in a surprise announcement than with your husband’s favorite Christmas eve tradition? 

Hidden inside the jumbled box of ornaments is a new, keepsake ornament: unglazed bisque in the shape of a stork, carrying a bundled baby with “coming in 2025” printed on the bundle. You’ve buried it all the way at the bottom, underneath the familiar ornaments that he’s expecting.

“Mommy can I wear my halo still for doing the tree?” 

“Sure Win. Wear it all night if you want,” you laugh. “Except you have to take it off at bedtime.”

“I’m still gonna wear my Santa hat, too though,” she says, saying it in her mini grownup voice, but looking at you with big questioning eyes right after, just to check. 

You give her a smile to reassure her. “Yep you can wear both.” 

“Yay!” She rips her halo off and goes to grab her Santa hat.

Lil’ already has hers on, having refused to wear the halo you’d bought for her angel costume in the nativity play. You suspect that she didn’t like the way the plastic headband touched her hearing aids. But the soft fabric of her Santa hat seems to be fine, so the play had had one red-capped angel this year. 

Bucky calls the girls over to where he’s kneeling by the ornament box and tells them about how every Christmas eve, they decorate the tree. “I’ve put the lights on it, but I probably need some helpers for the ornaments.” He levels Winnifred with a serious, grown-up gaze. “Do you think you could help me do that job?” 

Bless her neglected little heart, Winnie nods seriously. “Yeah. I can do a good job.”

“I’ll bet you can, Sweetheart.” Bucky’s gaze goes soft on her, and then he peeks over her shoulder at you. “Mommy, should we make it a Christmas eve present instead?” 

You nod and cover your mouth, barely holding your happy tears in (goddamn pregnancy hormones). “Mmhm. Yeah,” you manage to eke out, trying to keep your voice from warbling. You’ve got to keep it together for the girls. (It would’ve helped if your jerk husband hadn’t just called you “Mommy.”). “Yeah let’s do it tonight.” (God help you, when it comes time to try and get them to sleep).

Bucky grins and goes to get the two small gift boxes that have sat wrapped underneath the tree since not long after Thanksgiving. You and Bucky have more to be grateful for than ever this year. The adoption hasn’t been made official yet—you’ll need to go in front of a judge for that—but it’s been approved, and you have an appointment for the ceremony on New Year’s Day—If the girls want it. Bucky and you have both agreed that you’ll just remain fosters, if Lily or Winnifred seems uncomfortable with it.

 “Here, c’mere,” Bucky says gently, sitting cross-legged in front of the tree and beckoning the girls over. Lily hurries to go and plop herself down right in Bucky’s lap, and Winnie follows along a little less surely, but she can’t help but be excited about getting her very first Christmas present (in life, not just this season, sadly). “These are your special Christmas eve presents,” he says, handing one box to Winnie and the other to Lily, who takes it with a happy squeal. Winnie looks up at Bucky with big, amazed eyes. “We can open them?”

“Yep,” he says. “And there’s a special message inside. So we’ll read that together, okay?”

“Okay!” Win’s enthusiasm has outshined her perpetual but waning nervousness around Bucky, and she sits cross-legged like him and scoots in close to him and Lily. “Okay Lil’,” she instructs in her little grown-up voice, pointing at the bow on her box and ripping the paper. “Like this! You gotta open it, see?” 

You watch with a smile as Winnie rips open her package and Bucky helps Lily open hers. Once they’re open, the boxes reveal boxes, printed with pictures of little figurines. “What is it?” Winnie asks. “A dolly?”

“Nope not a dolly.” Bucky is grinning, but you can see the nervousness in his eyes, too. He wants the girls to be happy so much, and he wants Win to feel safe and want to stay with you. “Open the box,” he tells her, already helping Lily to open hers. You watch as Win’s small hand closes around the figurine and pulls it out. “They’re called Snowbabies,” Bucky tells her, smiling in that specific way you’ve come to recognize as nostalgia. 

“Snow baby?”

“Yeah. Careful they’re breakable, so you have to hold them and not drop them.” Bucky turns Lily’s figurine over in his hand, and Lily reaches for it. 

“Careful!” Winnie worries, but Bucky pats her knee reassuringly and smiles. 

“S’okay, Honey. We’ve got it.” He helps Lily not to drop her figurine, which is a little cherubic child in a snowsuit, on a sled. Winnie’s is a similar one, but hers is building a snowman. 

She gasps and holds it up to show you. “Look Mommy! Just like me!”

You laugh along (only a little watery, now). “Yeah, how ‘bout that?”

“These were popular when I was a kid,” Bucky tells Winnie, speaking close to Lily’s ear to make sure she hears clearly, too. “I’ve got some really old ones that my sister saved for me, but I thought it’d be nice to give you ones of your own. These are newer ones, and they’re special ‘cause they’re ornaments, see?” He holds Lily’s by the ribbon that’s looped at the top. 

Win’s eye get wide, and she finds the ribbon on hers, too. “We can hang them on the tree?”

“Sure can cupcake, but hang on, hang on!” Bucky laughs and catches her sleeve where she’s about to get up, ready to hang her ornament immediately. “Wait. Look here. There’s a secret compartment where you can put a message, see?” He shows Lily the little spot by her snow baby’s hand, where a little slip of paper rests, rolled up. “Look for yours,” he tells Win, and she doesn’t miss a beat, quickly pulling out the little scroll of paper that’s tucked away near her snow baby’s hand. 

“Wow.”

“Yeah. So Mommy and me wrote a special message on these, for you two. Want to read them together?” 

Winnie nods, her eyes back to being big and round. Bucky smiles at her, and you see something shift in Winnie’s expression. She seems to settle on something and scoots a little closer to Bucky. “Okay.”

Bucky visibly swallows, emotional, and it takes him a second before he’s able to continue. You come over and sit with them on the floor, too. Lily takes the opportunity to crawl over into your lap, and you let her sit there and kiss her curly hair. “Here,” you tell her, “Let’s give Bucky the paper, kay?” You help her to take the slip of paper out of her figurine, and Bucky unrolls the two pieces and places them on the carpet, one above the other. 

Neither of the girls can read of course, but Bucky’s been practicing “reading” books with them for a while, as a bonding activity and to increase Winnie’s self confidence around him. She seems happy to help “read” along, and Bucky reads aloud and points to the words,

“Dear Winnifred and Lily, we are so happy to have you in our home with us”—Your heart squeezes as you spot Win’s little mouth moving along silently with the words, just a beat behind Bucky saying them—“We know it was new and scary at first, but we hope that you have had a nice time living here, and feel happy and safe. That is the most important thing to us, because we love you.” Bucky pauses and his eyes flit to Winnie, and then you. 

You smile and nod, encouraging him to go on, but you can tell that he’s getting choked up, so you read from the second piece of paper, “We love you so much that we want you to stay with us always and be a family. Winnie, Lily, will you make us the proudest parents in the world, and let us be your Mommy and Daddy?”

You barely make it to the last word, your throat closing up there at the very end. And you use every ocular muscle in your possession to keep the tears from falling. Hold it together, hold it together.

Win blinks adorably with her mouth open in a little ‘o’ for a minute, as her little four year old brain processes it all. She gasps all of a sudden, and Lilly mimics her with a gasp, too. You can’t help it, you sob a little when your laugh comes out at that. “What do you think, Sweetie?” You ask Winnie, since she’s the one you’re really looking at for a reaction. Lily might not fully understand yet, but she seems interested in her sister’s reactions, and you know that whatever Win decides, Lil will follow her lead. You hold out your hand for Winnie to take, and she puts her little hand in yours and says,

“You gonna be my real Mommy?” 

You sob again and smile and nod, giving her hand a squeeze. “Yeah, Sweetheart. If that will make you happy. I would really like to be your Mommy—Your real Mommy,” you add after a beat. 

Win’s always been a very perceptive little girl. “She knows what’s up” as Bucky likes to say. And now is no different. Her eyes fill with wonder, like you’ve told her about Santa Clause and presents all over again, and she looks from you, to Bucky. He’s holding it together a little better than you, but his eyes are dangerously shiny, with tears threatening to break. 

“You can be my real Daddy, Buckee?” she asks, and Bucky’s really nearing his breaking point it would seem, because he goes disturbingly red in the face and nods hastily, sniffling once and then croaking out a hoarse, 

“Yeah, Cupcake. I can be your real Daddy. I would like that very much.”

“Forever?” she asks, amazed. You laugh-sob again and Bucky tells her yes, that you will be a family forever, if she wants. Then, heartbreakingly, Win gets a little frown of concern and looks at her sister again. “And Lily too?” she checks.

Bucky laugh-sobs like you, and he nods. “Yeah Hon. And Lily too.”

Winnie’s face bleeds from concern, to wonder, to joy in a few, glorious heartbeats as she figures it out. It’s the longest few seconds of your life, and you and Bucky are both holding your breath. “Oh wow,” Winnie says, and then, surprisingly, she moves quickly over to Bucky and buries herself against his chest with an excited little whine, her fingers digging into his sweater as she hugs him for the first time ever. “Daddy!” she cries happily. “You can be my real Daddy! And Lily too!” 

Bucky loses it for real then, the tears breaking from his eyes. He wraps his arms around Win’s little body and hugs her back for the first time. He kisses the top of her head, then looks at you. You’re giving Lily a hug in your lap, and she’s making excited noises because she can tell that her sister is happy and excited. She laughs and babbles, and you look to Winnie, who spends a few long moments burrowing against Bucky’s chest before she squeals and pulls away to come over and excitedly give you a big hug, too, exclaiming, “Mommy!” 

You laugh and give her a hug, kissing her cheek and getting your tears on her. “Love you, Wing-Ding. I’m so happy to be your Mommy.”

“My real Mommy,” She corrects, and you laugh-sob again and agree. Win pulls back in concern and looks at you. She reaches out to touch your face. “Mommy, why you crying?”

That certainly doesn’t help the tears, but you’re laughing, too, and you tell her. “Because I’m so happy, Honey. Sometimes people cry when they’re very, very happy.”

Her face splits in a smile. “Me too!” She looks at Lilly and grabs her hand joyfully. “Lily too!” Lily agrees with a happy little squeal, and then Win jumps in an excited circle, clapping her hands and saying “Wow!” a bunch of times, the ball on her Santa hat bouncing along as she goes.You and Bucky meet each other’s eyes and share a lovestruck smile. This has to be it, you think. This has to be the happiest a person can feel.

“Love you,” Bucky murmurs.

You nod tearfully and murmur back, “Love you.”

Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it, please please consider giving it a re-blog: it means the world to me, and it helps my story reach more readers!

💖Snow babies were a very popular decorating item for the holidays, back in the 1920s/30s/40s

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[vaspider]

When we moved to Oregon in 2019, we always planned eventually to move back "home" to Pennsylvania, the state where, before that, I'd spent all but a year of my life since we moved there in '88.

Today, I'm going to have a conversation with my partners. I think we just have to assume I -- we -- can't go home.

Maybe ever.

Pennsylvania itself is in a low-risk category within two years, but it could easily -- well I know it -- swing into red if the next election cycle breaks another way.

That's not the kind of place where you buy the house that you intend them to "take you out of toes first," as I joked with my wives when we last talked about our plans.

That's what these laws mean to people like me. They mean "the state you consider home might become actively hostile to you within the next 5 years, so you can't plan to buy a home there." They mean "you shouldn't even board a plane that has a likelihood of having a layover in Florida, and you're definitely not going to repeat your 2019 drive across the country, one of the best and worst experiences of your life and the most time you've gotten to spend with your brother in one week since you graduated from high school." They mean half the states in this country are actively hostile to you, legally speaking, in a way you thought was finally behind you.

Sometime soon, I'm going to call my mother and tell her that we're not planning on moving back.

I don't have a clever closing line for this. I'm just sad.

[erwinsvow]

𝐭𝐞𝐧, 𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧, 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

summary: domestic bliss with agent hotchner is hard to come by. you take advantage of your time with him at home when you can.

word count: 1.4k

author's note: eeeeeee. cannot stop writing for this man. not bau!reader explicitly and also not smut explicitly, more in between. enjoy!!

The house you and Aaron buy is small, and in one word; picturesque. The outside panels are a soft, faded yellow and the shutters are brown.

It’s not a fixer-upper by any means, though Aaron talks often about the wood floors that will need to be redone in a few years, and the kitchen tile and backsplash that aren't in the condition he would quite like.

There’s other things too, like the downstairs bathroom with the peeling, floral patterned wallpaper and the carpet in Jack’s room. He worries about redoing the wallpaper—visions of hours of peeling it off and getting new sheets up and if there’s mold behind the paper, but you like it. It makes it feel like you’ve lived in this house your whole life.

Your shared bedroom is upstairs, down the hall from Jack and the first room off the stairs. You like the simplicity of this house most of all, nothing too grand or vain. When the realtor had taken you for a showing, Aaron was off on a case in Florida and Jack was at school. You felt silly touring alone, because it would have been easier to imagine living here with Aaron and Jack by your side, but you do it anyway.

You love Aaron’s apartment and you have more memories than you can count there—visions of making oatmeal raisin cookies with Jack and your first date with Aaron (a dinner that he cooked followed by a record playing softly and dancing in the living room) pop into your mind—but it’s running out of space, and it’s not quite like home. 

This house is home in all the best ways. A big kitchen with an island, where you can picture a cookie jar and a tall counter stool where Jack sits and eats his oatmeal before school. 

The living room has big windows and there’s a smaller playroom off the foyer, and in an instant you can picture the rest of your life here. You tell Aaron that night on the phone, and the three of you pay a visit the following weekend. You’re signing papers and packing up boxes two weeks later.

It doesn’t feel like it’s been much time at all, but you realize you’re coming up on almost a year of this house. Your house, the both of yours, the family house. This will be Jack and his siblings’ childhood home.

If you can ever get your husband into bed, that is. 

It’s eight-thirty on Friday night. Jack has been at a birthday party-sleepover night since about five. Aaron returned from a case in Michigan less than twenty four hours ago. You had been asleep, late Thursday evening, when he came back home.

He’d gone to the office today and then picked up Jack from school to bring him over to the sleepover. You had triple checked that he’d packed everything he needed—pajamas, toothbrush, his emergency Epi-pen—but forgot the birthday boy’s present in the back seat of your car. 

You and Aaron drive back over to deliver the gift, make polite small talk with the parents, and then rush out of there.

Aaron had set up a whole plan. Dinner reservations, dessert at the ice cream place near the house, and then a quiet night in, which was long awaited and desperately needed.

However, nothing goes as planned. You miss the reservation window by ten minutes trying to get Jack’s friend the stupid gift—a Lego Star-Wars kit—before they open presents and cut cake. The ice cream shop is closed due to renovations. You return home to missed calls from your boss and a stack of Aaron’s paperwork on the counter. 

“Take out it is,” Aaron says, rifling through the drawer next to the oven. There’s more flyers in there than he thinks, and he still can’t find the one he’s looking for. “Honey? Where’s the menu for that one Indian place-”

“Side of the fridge,” you call back, typing away on your laptop. He doesn’t have to finish his sentences anymore. It makes him smile every time. He locates the menu and brings it to you on the couch. 

“What’d you think? The usual?”

“I have a couple ideas.” You are starving, and not for food. 

You’re in Aaron’s lap before you can even think about it. He has big hands, very big, very strong hands, that grip you by the waist and hoist you on top of him in a moment. It takes your breath away, momentarily, and then he really takes your breath away.

He kisses you like it’s his first and last time ever being able to do so. His hands roam all over your body and it makes every part of you tingle in anticipation. He grabs your ass with both hands and then slaps it hard—hard enough that it hurts, but he knows you well enough to welcome the moan you emit into his mouth.

Your hands run through his hair and then focus on loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. It’s hard to think, though, with him beneath you and his hardness pressing against you in all the best ways. You want to stay here on the couch and grind yourself against him until you’re both sweating and cumming—but he has other plans.

Always a gentleman, always patient, he pulls away from the kiss and lets you catch your breath. Your foreheads are pressed together, noses touching, and you briefly take in that after so many years of knowing him, Aaron will always take your breath away.

“Why’d you stop?” you question innocently, and he thinks he’ll lose his mind. “Let’s go upstairs.”

“Why? I think this is perfect.” You lean back in to kiss him hard, losing yourself in the sweet taste of his mouth—always coffee—and his aroma, which draws you in no matter where you are. 

He laughs into your mouth, pulling away again. You make a soft noise of displeasure, but it all goes away when he lifts you up to carry you to your bedroom. 

He puts you down first, and gets rid of the tie you undid downstairs. You watch with big eyes while he hovers over you, until he finally leans down and your lips meet again. It’s all too natural to take off your dress and spread your legs and help him pull off his button-up, moaning into your kisses and enjoying the feeling of his hand in your hair, pulling softly. 

You like Aaron all of the time, but you’re incredibly biased when he’s like this. You’ve never had to ask for anything, and he somehow knows everything you like. He lines more kisses along your neck, down to your chest. Just as you hear him, low and heady, murmuring, “Tell me what you want,” and getting ready to answer, needy out of your mind and ready to tell him that you need to be fucked, hard, now, his phone goes off.

You exhale. Aaron drops his head in defeat against your chest.

“I’m sorry, honey, hold on a minute,” he starts, leaning over you to get his phone from the nightstand. 

“Who is it?” “JJ. It must be a case, I’ll just-”

“Wait, wait,” you whisper. “If it’s a case you can go in ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?” he questions, eyebrow raised. You look back at him sheepishly.

“Okay, fifteen minutes. I mean, nothing’s gonna change in a half an hour, right? Fifteen minutes here and then fifteen minutes to get there.”

“Honey, I really shouldn’t-”

“I mean, think about it. Everyone else probably isn’t even there yet. You’ll just be sitting around waiting for them before you start. So really, I’m saving you time.”

You both lock eyes and burst into laughter. 

“I’ll get your go-bag,” you say, as he answers JJ’s call. You’re about to get up, looking for your haphazardly discarded dress and Aaron’s shirt, when you feel Aaron grip your forearm.

“Hotchner. Okay, JJ, thanks. I’ll be there in forty.” He hangs up and looks back at you, frozen in place. “You have twenty-five minutes to tell me what you want.” You squeal when he pulls you back into bed, kissing you hard.

He gets to the office an hour later.

[rafeskiss]

florida!!! ! ᥫ᭡

pairing: bsf!rafe cameron x reader

summary: reader’s boyfriend cheats on her so rafe plans to make her forget all about him by taking her to florida.

warnings: no smut, not much, rafe laces someone’s cocaine with fent, protective rafe, i don’t really know 😊

authors note: FIRST RAFE POST!! i know ive only ever posted for sturniolo tumblr but id like to preface my account isn’t solely for them, and i will be posting content for other fandoms as well!

love left me like this, i don’t want to exist so take me to florida

when naive!kook!reader and her boyfriend, a good-for-nothing fuck boy, one to a worse degree than her best friend rafe was, broke up… rafe was more than happy to finally step in.

it was as simple as that rafe couldn’t let that man sleep peacefully knowing that he broke his poor best friend’s heart.

when you showed up at tannyhill, your big doe eyes all teary eyed and smeared mascara running down your cute cheeks, rafe already knew it had something to do with that little boyfriend of yours.

secretly, he had been waiting for this exact moment. he had been waiting ever since you told him that one of the boys he plays golf with asked you on a date. you were just too sweet for him. for any of these boys on the island. no, you needed someone who could really protect you and make you feel feminine and comfortable, something these boys couldn’t do except for him. he knew you better than anyone and had much more to give you than everyone else, but being the naive girl you are, you didn’t see past the friendship.

“aw, baby.” he frowned before embracing you in a tight hug. you wrapped your arms around his neck, silently crying into his arms.

your voice broke, “he cheated on me,”

rafe’s jaw clenched, but he wasn’t surprised. not one bit. “ ‘m so sorry.”

he didn’t ever directly warn you about boys like him. he couldn’t ruin the happiness you had when that guy started showing interest in you.

this wasn’t even supposed to happen, actually. you weren’t aware of this, but rafe may or may not have told every guy who ever expressed interest in you to fuck off. a simple hands-off rule. he’d threaten them, say that if they so much as talk to you, they’d wish they didn’t. only one person dared to test that rule. he started flirting with you and commenting on your instagram pictures. rafe solved that problem quickly and easily by lacing his next bag of coke with a little bit of fentanyl. he didn’t die. it taught him a lesson. taught mostly every boy on the island a lesson, except for your now ex-boyfriend.

so he couldn’t put fentanyl in this fucker’s coke this time because the boy never mentioned you to him. they played golf regularly, never speaking of you. and then one day, rafe picks you up from your house to take you shopping and you excitedly tell him how one of his friends followed you on instagram and asked to take you out. that guy knew what he was doing.

he maneuvered the hands-off rule because he knew rafe would never let it happen.

after a few minutes of consoling you, rafe broke the silence. “y’wanna go to florida?”

you stopped crying, pulled away from the hug and peered up at him. “what?”

he grinned, “i’m serious. let’s go to florida, yeah?”

you shook your head, “that won’t fix anything, rafe.”

truth be told, rafe believes money can in fact buy happiness. and he’d spend every last dime in his pocket if it meant you forgot all about that stupid boy and became happy, especially if it meant you were happy with him.

“it’ll be fun. lemme show you a good time, promise you’ll forget all about him. it would be good for ya to at least get out of the obx.”

“why florida?” you asked, sniffling and wiping a tear. rafe lifted up his shirt, revealing his lower toned abdomen, and wiped your mascara off your face, wiping your nose too. something only dad’s do for their young daughters, and rafe too, you guess.

he shrugs, “why not? we gotta place there. nice place right on the miami coast. just a change of scenery, s’all.”

so the next day, rafe pulled into your house’s driveway. you stood by the front door, a suitcase next to you. rafe smiled as he got out of his car, “only one suitcase?”

“you think i need more?” you asked in a surprised tone.

he shrugged, “i just planned a couple things snd you might need more than a couple outfits for ‘em. s’all good though, we can buy you some more when we get there.” he said while grabbing your pink suitcase effortlessly and placing it in the backseat of his car.

you were completely unaware of rafe’s true intentions by this out of the blue trip to florida. you didn’t think anything of the sweet things rafe did for you. he was your best friend, and he looks out for you. he just cares for you, like any friend would.

once you arrived in florida, being taken there by the cameron’s private plane, the first thing you did was get a fancy facial from a very luxurious med spa. one sarah went to anytime their family visited florida, which is why rafe knew of the place. he paid for you to get the longest, most expensive, and best treatment there was.

afterwards, you guys went out to dinner at a small restaurant on a dock.

you thought he was just being sweet.

you thought he was just being sweet when he bought everything you laid your eyes on in small boutiques and even large luxury stores like chanel and tiffany.

and rafe’s plan worked. by the first four days, your ex’s name never came out of your mouth. the only name on your lips was rafe, and his next plan was to keep it that way.

all that’s left to do was convince you there was someone better for you out there. and that someone was him. you didn’t see it yet, but you would by the end of the trip. he would make you his.

[storiesofsvu]

A Dangerous Game Ch 21

Emily Prentiss x reader Warnings: language, i think that's about it.

The following week you honestly felt like the heaviest weight had finally been lifted off your shoulders. You started to realize just how down you’d been and were now eternally grateful that it hadn’t been any longer. The next morning you were sat at your desk wrapping up paperwork when a coffee was discreetly placed onto your desk, you glanced up to barely catch Emily striding through the bull pen on the way to her office. From across the room Garcia managed to catch your eye, a wicked grin on her face as she glanced between the two of you.

*

That evening when you got home you were cursing yourself for having not bought groceries, having nothing edible but eggs in the fridge when there was a knock on the door. Your faved penne primavera with extra garlic bread on the side and a mini lava cake all fresh and hot and fully paid for. You scooped up your phone while digging into the bread,

‘You don’t have to buy your way out of this ya know. I already accepted your apology.’

‘Think of it as a double hitter. I… wanted to make sure you were eating.’

‘Turns out my appetite is back in full force this week.’

‘I’m glad. Enjoy your dinner.’

‘Thank you.’

You spent the rest of the evening texting, making each other laugh, watching the same shows from different houses before finally saying goodnight and crawling into bed.

*

You were almost running late the next morning, racing out the door and practically directly into a delivery man, the most gorgeous bouquet of roses and lilies you’d ever seen in the package. You had just enough time to leave them on the entry way table before running to the car, your phone buzzing in the cup holder the moment you sat it down.

‘Don’t worry, those ones are from me.’

You managed to slip into the elevator at the BAU right before the doors slid shut, letting out a breath when you noticed it had managed to trap you and Emily alone together.

“Thought I said you weren’t in the dog house.”

“Still allowed to spoil you, aren’t I?” She replied with a shrug and you laughed, “I’ll stop if you want, it’s just… making me feel a little better about the whole thing. I want to make sure you know how much I actually do care about you.”

“I do.” Smiling, you leant in, kissing her cheek softly, “thank you. They’re gorgeous.”

Emily had just enough time to squeeze at your wrist before the doors slid open and you went your separate ways.

*

Halfway through the morning Derek rolled his chair over to your desk, a bakery box finding home on top of it.

“Brought your favourite.” He greeted and you looked over at him with a small smile.

“You don’t need to feed me Derek, I ate breakfast. But thank you.” You lifted the lid to find that he did indeed get your favourite and began picking bites off the muffin.

“Just checkin’ in.” He replied with a shrug, “you know you have been in a helluva better mood this week.”

“That’ll happen when you manage to escape a toxic ex and get to sleep in your own bed again.”

“You really hate Seattle that much hey?”

“I’d rather move back to Florida.”

“Ouch.” He surveyed you for a moment, practically studying you to see if this was some kind of cover up or if you were actually doing better.

“What?” You laughed.

“Nothing.” He shook his head, “just, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. A smile looks good on you.” He squeezed your shoulder affectionately before wandering back to his desk and it took all of your willpower to not look over to Emily’s office. You could feel her eyes on you and a few minutes later when you risked a glance up in her direction you found them still on you, doing your best not to laugh as she blushed. You shot her a quick wink and returned to the paperwork at hand.

*

Penelope managed to coerce you into drinks on Wednesday after work and you were thankful it was just the two of you, you knew she was likely going to grill you and that would be almost impossible in front of anyone else from the team. You’d settled in with your third drink when she finally couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Okay, so I take it from the very improved mood this week that you’ve talked things out?” She asked, a wicked grin on her lips.

“We have…” you took a sip of your drink, “she explained everything, a very big apology was given that I accepted.”

“Oh please tell me you’re back together, you have to be back together, you’re just so friggin cute!”

“I dunno if I’d call it ‘back together’.” You laughed, “but yeah, we’re like, officially together now.”

“Oh thank god!” She squeezed at your arm, “so when are you gonna tell the rest of the team?”

“I… uh.. once we figure out the politics of it I guess? At this point we’re just like, not sneaking around.”

“But the sneaking around kinda makes it hotter, doesn’t it?” She smirked and you laughed.

“Yeah I’ve gotta admit, sometimes it does, knowing someone on the team’s in the next hotel room so you’ve gotta stay quiet…. Adds some spice.”

“And spice is something the two of you most definitely have.” She smirked and your eyes widened.

“I told you to fast forward that shit!”

“Didn’t need to listen to any more than I’d already heard sunshine. I knew daddy issues were a thing, but I’ve always kind of wondered how that would translate to lesbianism.”

“Well you’re welcome for educating you.” You replied dryly, rolling you eyes before taking another sip of your drink.

“All teasing aside, I am really happy for you.” Her hand slid across the table to squeeze at yours, “you deserve happiness and love and you’ve found that, even if it kinda went to hell and back on the way.”

“Thanks Penelope.”

*

You let out a soft sigh, scrawling your signature across the bottom of a sheet of paper before flipping the case file shut and pushing your chair back. Crossing through the bull pen you knocked on the door jam of Emily’s office, pausing a moment before entering, flashing her a small smile.

“Papers fully filled out and everything documented.” You stated, placing the file down into her inbox.

“Thanks.” She smiled back at you before you turned to leave, “hey… good work today. No one else could get through to that girl.”

“Thanks.” You shrugged, turning back to her, “I’ve always been good with kids despite not having the desire to want my own.”

“No?”

“My track record with family isn’t exactly great.” You laughed, leaning against one of the chairs in front of her desk.

“Me neither.” She chuckled in response, “but just because you had shitty parents doesn’t mean you’d be one.”

“I know.” You smiled softly, “but with this job? The hours alone are enough to make me feel bad much less the risks and baggage we bring home.” Your brow furrowed as you realized something, “oh… we’ve never talked about this… it’s not a deal breaker or anything, I just don’t see it being a great idea.” Emily smiled softly, looking up at you.

“There was a time I entertained the idea, but like you said, it wouldn’t be easy with this job. Besides, you know how whiney Sergio gets when I’ve been gone a while, I can’t imagine an actual child.”

You barked out a laugh at that, the smile remaining on your cheeks as Emily’s lips curved into a knowing smirk.

You were acutely aware that outside the office you were being watched, you could feel the eyes on you but weren’t sure who they belonged to. It was Derek, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the two of you through the office windows.

“What’re we staring at?” Penelope asked, settling in beside him.

“Wilson’s been in there too long for just dropping off paperwork.” He replied without looking away.

“Well, she took the interview with that last vic, maybe they’re talking about the case?”

“No.” He frowned, “they’re way too casual for that. Look at the way she just laughed.”

“Aww.” Penelope smiled.

“A week and a half ago Wilson was going through hell.”

“And now Emily’s making her smile, that’s a good thing.” She nudged at his side with her elbow, “I mean, just look at them, Wilson should spend the rest of the afternoon in her office.”

“Why are you so happy about this?” He finally managed to drag his eyes away from the office to look at the blonde.

“Because they’re so freaking cute! Just look at them,” she gestured toward the office, “you can’t tell me they’re not crazy about each other!”

“Baby… Prentiss fucked her up royally, you can’t be okay with this. Wilson was a wreck while we were in Seattle…”

“Oh my love,” she squeezed at his arm, “you have it all wrong.”

Back inside the office you were finally turning to leave, knowing there was only one tiny pile of paperwork sitting between you and the ability to punch out when Emily spoke again.

“Hey… uh.. you have plans tomorrow?”

“Just this little thing called work.” You turned back to her with a grin and she laughed.

“No, I meant tomorrow night.”

“Not a thing.”

“I meant it a couple of weeks ago when I said I wanted to actually take you out…” She began hesitantly, sucking her lip into her teeth.

“Are you asking me on a date Agent Prentiss?” You grinned, moving back closer to her desk so your voice wouldn’t carry through the door.

“Yeah. I am.” She let out a breath, unsure why she was suddenly so nervous, “and I’m really hoping you’ll say yes.”

“If we weren’t getting stared down by Garcia and Morgan… I’d be kissing you right now.” You chuckled, “of course it’s a yes.” She smiled warmly at you, a light shade of pink tinging her cheeks, “you sure this isn’t just about that dress?” You asked and she scoffed.

“Oh c’mon.”

“Your brain short circuited when I opened the door that night and you cannot deny that.”

“Fine.” She grumbled with a smile, “but this is about me wanting to take you somewhere nice, you deserve it.”

“As long as it’s not too fancy.” You teased.

“Pinky promise I won’t order for you.” She smirked back and you laughed, playfully rolling your eyes, “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Sounds perfect.”

*

At the end of the day Emily was stuck a little later than she’d planned, a phone call with the director taking loner than expected and a little bit of extra paperwork because of it. She was finally emptying her inbox, tossing the folder into her outbox when there was a knock on the open office door and she looked up to find Derek stepping into the room.

“Hey.” She greeted, “thought you’d taken off already.”

“I was about to, but I didn’t want to leave without talking to you first otherwise this’d be eating away at me all night.”

“What’s up?” She asked, sitting back in her chair and Derek let out a heavy huff, dropping into one in front of her desk.

“Don’t be mad at Penelope… it’s thanks to her that I’ve been fully looped in now.”

“Okay?” She raised a brow.

“You and Wilson.” He sighed, “I was confused, and honestly a little upset to see how civil she was being to you, I didn’t think you deserved it from her, but now I know what really went down. Emily… I really hope you’re doing the right thing here, and for the right reasons. I know that your personal life and what you do outside of this office is literally none of my business, but I was also witnessing first hand when Wilson hit her absolute rock bottom breaking point. And I don’t ever want to see her that low again, so if you hurt her, again, and for real, you’ll never be hearing the end of it from me.”

“I don’t have a single plan in the world to ever pull something like that again, especially to her. And I’d expect you to, I’m glad she’s got you in her corner.”

“She doesn’t have many other options. This team is her family, like it is for a lot of us. I wanna make sure she knows that and that she doesn’t leave because something went south between the two of you.”

“I just…” Emily sighed, chewing on her lip, “I didn’t know what to do so I went with the first instinct I had. I didn’t know how much time I had, how close Dewald was. I didn’t want her to get hurt or killed just because of her association with me.”

“And you suck at communicating your feelings sometimes.” Derek stated, and while he was right, there was a teasing grin on his lips that she couldn’t help but huff a small laugh out at as she rolled her eyes.

“I’ve made a promise of open communication for what it’s worth.” She defended and he laughed quietly, “I just needed her safe…”

“Emily, I get it, I really do. That kind of a case? An unsub who had history with someone on the team, who made it very clear they were coming for you, and that meant her. You were flashing back to Doyle. It makes perfect sense that you wanted to protect her as much as possible, even doing it the way you did. You even made sure that Dewald would know, and then shipped her out of state just in case he didn’t believe it. You didn’t tell her about it because you were afraid she’d pull a you and take it on herself and end up getting herself killed. Hell even if you didn’t realize it, your subconscious did and this time we caught the guy and no one got hurt.”

“Yeah…” she murmured.

“As mad as I was before, I understand it.” He let out a breath, “can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Are you happy? Like truly, really happy?”

“More than I ever have been in my entire life.” She replied, a soft smile on her lips.

“Make sure she knows that. Because that girl cares about you more than anyone in the world.”

“I know.” She nodded, “and I will. She means the world to me.”

“Good.” Smiling, he pushed to standing, “I’m happy for you Prentiss, really.”

“Thanks.” She watched him start to leave the office.

“Oh, and promise me one more thing?”

“What?” She asked with a small laugh as Derek turned back in the doorway to face her.

“For the love of god could you two maybe keep the jet sex free in the future?! I’ll never be able to sit on that couch again.”

Emily felt the colour drain out of her face but the mortification was immediately usurped by wanting to get one in over Derek, a smirk breaking out on her lips.

“Alright, no mile high club. But I can’t make promises about what you might overhear otherwise.”

“What does that mean?”

“Remember back when she first joined the team and we were out in Atlanta? You complained on the way home about not getting any sleep thanks to someone else in the hotel being too noisy…” She grinned and Derek made a face of disgust with a grimace.

“That’s it, I’m bunking with Wilson for the foreseeable future, keep you two apart while we’re on the road.” He quickly backed out of the office, not wanting to hear anymore, leaving Emily laughing.  

__________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @melindawarnersgf @itisdoctortoyousir @emilyprentiss4life @somethingimaginative17 @temilyrights @alexxavicry  @daddy-heather-dunbar @aliensaurusrex @rustyzebra @ilovemycrayons @mandy-asimp @thegrantwater @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @m00nkn1ghts @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @msvenablesbitch @its-soph-xx  @going-gray @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess  @kdaghay @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @awolfcsworld @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @midnight-sapphic @scorpsik @thisisraes @prentiss-theorem @unsubologyy @strongsassysexysloane @svushots  @overtrred28 @happenstnces  @sapphicprentiss @heidss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments

[whorrorbellee]

Cherry Waves : two and a half

Ghostface! Danny Johnson x f!reader

Danny just had to save you. He just had to save your poor sad life. Knocking your sad frail body against fake plastic tiles. Shoving his fingers down your throat like a kid fishing for pennies. What was it you wrote in your diary? Your shiny white masked knight in a black shroud? Well how cute. Maybe it was time he kept a pet around.Just to play or course.18+ : eventual smut, themes of suicide (reader attempts), selfharm, sexual content, murder, themes of violence

ao3 prolouge masterlist

 11th August 1992

Roseville sure is something. Hot weather, Sunny skies. Rednecks. Everything I had wanted to avoid until now. Utah was great, born and raised. Left poor pa alone in the farmhouse at nineteen. Burnt to a crisp, the detective said. Goddamn alcoholic could never remember to see if the fire had gone dead before laying his head down on the pillow. Too damn bad. 

Danny Johnson would become Martin Lee the small town photographer somewhere in Arizona, and then I was Jack Mayfield, the slightly deplorable stoner writer in california. But in Pennsylvania Jed Olson was born. Kind hearted, protective. Red blooded american that wanted to uphold traditional family values. The type of guy you'd see a pretty blonde next to with six kids. Jed Olson was perfect and fucking irritating. He was the type of guy you would ask to set up shelves in your apartment. And god i fucking hated it, i still do. At first Jed was sweet, he could lend a hand. Enjoyed a cold one. Then where's your girlfriend Jed? Or maybe you're gay? I've got a daughter you could take out some time? When are you gonna settle down?

So in New York Jed Became colder. But the problem with New york. Half of my work got lost to gang violence and hate crimes, by the time i had figured out who Jed really was, Ghostface had been lost in a lineup of violent Men and petty thefts. So I moved smaller. Florida. Small baptist town wedge between Jacksonville and St. Augustine. You could hardly call it a town, in reality it was a housing estate with ten shops lined up, a couple of offices and three different churches, two within the town and the third connected to a road that led you straight out of roseville and into St.Augustine. It was perfect. Enough crazies to not get caught, drive close enough that someone out of town could come in and kill. And small enough to cause a frenzine. 

So while I was in New York, I took as many freelance photography jobs as I could. Let myself wake up with cheap instant coffee and gouged myself on instant ramen, until I had enough to buy a truck from a guy I knew and road-trip myself down to florida. 

And here I was, a man with very little to say in the matter. Even though I had a way with words. It took me less than five minutes to wedge myself into the crew at roseville gazette. Mike had welcomed me with open arms after I had fooled him with my American values. White picket, 2.5 kids and a cute dog laid out on a plate for him to stuff his face with. 

12 September 1992. 

One month has passed and I'm settled in at last. Work is fine. Writing about lost dogs and people who've found rings along the shore. Work is boring. It's not really my work, well it is.  But not the work I really want to do. In-fact , I'm craving it. I'm not sure how long I'm going to last. Sometimes I just want to take Adam's face and crush it between the wall and the door in the stairwell. And I won't! God I could never. Well I could.  Just not Adam. Adam is great. He's really perfect. He's so anxious and erratic everytime a crime is committed. When I start and I mean really start (not drive to Georgia and kill some rando) he's just going to snap. Linda is great. She keeps to herself and writes pieces about Best places to take your family this (insert month) or should your kids be having sugar?. 

There's a list in my head of who I want to take out. I haven't started watching just yet. Need to get adjusted to the town properly. I've been going on runs every night. Keep the stamina up and find out every slip road and street I can hide on. To the others I'm in a health kick. Waving past dog walkers and drunk teens. James told me he saw me running outside his house and that he'd wanted to get together for an early morning run the next sunday. And now there's a group of us at 6am. I drive to the closest diner after and order the biggest breakfast platter they have. 

Case no: 289 D75   Date: 5th July 1984

Reporting officer: DC Smith

Prepared by: PC Stein

Incident: Fire at the Johnson’s farm house on 4th July 1984 at 11pm . 

Event details: I was attending the 4th of July celebrations with my girlfriend. After the fireworks stopped at around 10:45. The family packed up and I asked if she wanted to head back to mine. We got to the farm house and the place was on fire. The house was practically black. We went to the nearest phone so I could call the emergency services. 

I thought my dad might have gone out. But when the fire was put out, they recovered his body. When I left him he was on the sofa passed out. He usually drinks whiskey. I knew it was him because of the white gold wedding ring around his neck.

30th september 1992

So Mike's niece has officially started her job. Which has ruined all plans of me developing my own photos in the office. I'm sure she couldn't help it. Nepo babied her way into a job. Fresh out college and straight into the office. Didn't even have to have a shitty barista job first. She's shy and slightly skittish. Pays no attention to where she's going. Always tripping over her own feet. The good thing is now we have software to edit photos after mike bought a one year package to see how far it gets us. 

She lives next to me. I passed her in the stairwell and walked behind her on the way home. 

She doesn't crack a smile when I do. Hardly ever reactive. Emotionless. Faked a smile on her first day before curling inward on her desk to jot something down. 

An enigma. Uncharmable .

16th October 1992

I didn't mean to do it. I was just a little rusty. I don't have time for mistakes. And I panicked. I dont panic. I never have. What little humanity I have left in me is reserved for good coffee and books. So I climbed into the wrong window that night. Mine was one over. A complete accident. Someone had swung a brick at my face and knocked me sideways. So I was a little puzzled when the bare apartment I lived in had a shitty two seater armchair and a pretty girl laid on it. And I had nearly turned away. But the pill bottle had glowed under the moonlight and headlights of late night drivers. When I had picked them up and the out of date pills rattled inside. I looked upon the pretty girl who I thought was asleep. Breathing erratic. Eyes rolling to the back of her head. Lying in a puddle of her own sweat. 

Well I just panicked. Picking up her body and rushing to the toilet. Scraped along plastic tiles. My hands held her up by her neck and I shoved two thick fingers down her throat until I had felt her gag. Barely held up by her knees. Watching her puke into the toilet. 

I should've left her there. Let the darkness swallow her up. Swelled in the bathroom. Let the police press a black body bag to her skin. Cracked tiled angel. Another lost to the hidden disease. And I gazed into her eyes, half shut. Her mouth opened as her head fell into the crook of my neck. Soft skin against the rough fabric of my shroud. I felt her heartbeat grow stronger. Poison exiting her body.

So instead I pressed her to the shower wall and washed her body, dressed her in the softest pyjamas I could find. Held her like my own. Held her like Piper wished I would. 

I won't make this mistake again.

[weeeeeekly]

seeking shelter – lee anton x gn!reader

blurb Living in Florida, you knew a thing or two about hurricanes, your Chem lab partner on the other hand does not.

info lab partner!anton x lab partner!reader, reader is experienced, strangers to lab partners to to lovers i guess, no body shape mention, no mention of gender, reader is able to put hair in a hair it, dom!reader maybe, swearing, sucking dick

WARNINGS!!! NSFW, MDNI, 18+, not edited/just pure free flowing thought

this is FICTION!!! The stuff written out is not meant to be a representation of the people, places, or ideas mentioned & definitely not accurate to real life counterparts

wc 1.4k

You hated living in Florida especially during hurricane season. It sucks that the season is June to November. Usually, rolling your eyes whenever someone from out of the state would say “you were so lucky to live near theme parks and beaches!”

Florida had its charms sometimes, but this was not one of them.

Classes were cancelled and the university was going to be closed for the rest of the week. Maybe even into next week.

“Fuck.”

You turn over to see your Chem lab partner, Lee Chanyoung, with his head in his hands.

“Oh shit,” You pause from putting away your pens. “don’t you live on campus?”

He nods as your grimace. You didn’t know Chanyoung well as you two were just lab partners – friendly with each other but not friends.

“Can you go back to your parent’s house?”

He shakes his head. “They live out of the country.”

“What about your friends?”

Another head shake, “They’re throwing a hurricane party so it’s not safe.”

“Ah.”

You continue packing up as you think over everything you wanted to get perishable hurricane snacks. You had a bunch of bottled water, batteries, candles, fans, and flashlights to hold you over. Since you’ve lived here all your life you knew what to expect.

roomie i’m going to head back to my parent’s! leaving now. prob won’t make it until later tonight w traffic.

roomie i’ll keep you updated! stay safe love you!

you drive safe!!! i’m staying home <3

You’re getting up when Chanyoung’s hand grabs your wrist, looking up at you.

“Don’t you live off campus?”

“Uh yeah?”

“Can I stay with you?”

You’re taken aback as he looks at you with sad puppy eyes. You’re conflicted you feel terrible as you don’t think he has a car, and the university wasn’t going to turn into a storm shelter. He would have to travel to the nearest storm shelter, but then again you didn’t know him well.

“I can pay you!”

It would be nice to not have to buy your snacks as you need to get gas too.

Letting out a sigh, “Let me ask my roommate.”

He throws himself out of his chair, hugging you and repeating “thank you”.

“I haven’t even asked them yet.”

“Thank you for even considering.”

you hey can my lab partner stay over for the hurricane???

roomie yeah totally! stay safe!

“They said it’s okay. Let’s go now to beat traffic.”

Chanyoung hugs you tighter as you smile at him. It was nice to embraced by the soft spoken tall, pretty boy smelling like warm vanilla. You lean back when Chanyoung begins moving his head a little too close for almost strangers. You didn’t want to scare Chanyoung off by kissing him like the touch starved person you are.

You drive the both of you to your favorite grocery store to grab snacks that Chanyoung graciously paid for. Then filled the last quarter of your tank and some extra in a gasoline container. The two of you got to spend quite a bit of time together due to the business of the street, store, and gas station. Learning the basics of each other like favorite movie, tv show, music, chips, and candy.

Hours later, you were finally outside the door to your apartment.

“So yeah, I luckily live far away from any evacuation zone. The worst that can happen is a power outage or flooding both seem likely to happen.”

 Chanyoung hangs onto your every word as you give a quick tour of your place, skipping your missing roommate’s room.

“It’s best to stay away from windows so the living room is the safest. Let me just quickly fill up some buckets with water.

When you’re done, you find that Chanyoung has turned the couch into a pillow fort. Your extra blankets are used as a makeshift ceiling and pillows as makeshift walls. Crouching down to enter the fort, Chanyoung is sat to the right with a bag of your favorite chips opened and his laptop set up with his favorite movie.

He smiles as he pats the seat next to him, “Since you said you haven’t seen it yet.”

Sitting next to him, he starts the movie. It’s actually pretty nice to have this opportunity to spend time with him despite the unfortunate circumstances. You’ve always thought Chanyoung was attractive and thought the universe was playing some kind of sick joke on you when your lab’s TA made you partners for the semester. You wouldn’t get any work done if he was in the Chem lecture as you.

“Have you texted your parents?”

“Mhmm.” He says in between chewing. “They’re asleep. Right now, because of the time zone.”

 “This must be scary for you. This being your first hurricane and all.”

He shrugs before turning to look at you. “I’m glad that I’m with you.”

Chanyoung shifts in his spot as he gets closer to you forgetting about the chips.

“It’s a little embarrassing how it took a natural disaster for me to gain the courage to talk to you.”

“You were nervous to talk to me? Why?”

“Because I like you.”

If you were in a movie, the camera would zoom directly into your face as a little animation of your heart would jump out of your chest. Chanyoung likes you. He. Likes. You.

And you like him back.

“I like you too. I have since the first day I saw you in lab.”

Chanyoung giggles at this as he closes the laptop on the forgotten movie, grabbing your legs to put them on his lap.

“I knew we had chemistry.”

Normally, you would cringe at the pickup line, but you let it slide because it was Chanyoung. You take the opportunity to drape your arms over his shoulders as he leans closer.

“You know, there’s not that much to do during hurricane. It’s just us, in the dark, in the couch pillow fort.”

He raises an eyebrow at your innuendo and closes the gap between your lips. The kiss started off sweet with a simple pressing of lips upon another, bit it became heated when you tangled your fingers in his hair and began pulling. Chanyoung’s sweet moans filled your ears as you sneak a hand down to grasp his bulge, teasing him with your fingernails.

He pulls away with a pout, “Don’t tease.”

“Don’t be easily teased.”

Leaning forward, you bite his bottom lip and use this as an opportunity to keep kissing him. The kiss is hot, making you internally thank your TA and universe for this moment.

Pulling back, you put your hand down the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers.

“Wanna see what you’re packing.”

“Please.” He moans.

You move your legs to maneuver his bottoms off to free his dick. Like a sexually perverse Christmas gift. Hs dick is actually pretty which is crazy because dicks shouldn’t be. It’s bigger than average, but not insanely big that it will be impossible for you to take down your throat. You wipe his leaking tip with your thumb as you feel the veins.

“Wow, you’re gonna make me work for this.”

Before Chanyoung an ask what you mean, you wrap your mouth around the tip of his dick, swirling your tongue. Chanyoung shudders at the feeling of your warm mouth letting a groan of your name out.

Quickly, you tie your hair with the hair tie on your wrist and get to work. You wanted this to be the best head of Lee Chanyoung’s life.

Slowly, you worked your way down his shaft as you wrapped the rest with your hand. You look up at him to see his eyes closed shut and the furrow of pleasure of his eyebrows. You switch between bobbing and sucking his cock as your hand assists you. It’s when you hollow out you checks at the base of his cock do you hear him begin babbling incoherently. A mix of what sounds like your name and “I’m cumming”.

You don’t let up when you feel his dick twitch and release down your throat. Swallowing the salty cum, you sit back up and smile at Chanyoung heaving.

“Liked it?”

He nods his head, “Like is an understatement.”

Checking your phone, you see a few emergency texts telling people to seek shelter or stay inside due to the hurricane nearing your area. You’re about to text your roomie when the power shifts off in your apartment.

“Dammit.”

You look unfazed as Chanyoung stands up to check the A/C. “Yeah, power’s out. What now?”

“I could think of a few things.”

masterlist | kinktober masterlist

author’s note heyyyy i wrote this in a notebook while my power was out during the hurricane, everything‘s okay with me – luckily & thankfully

got the power back on earlier today & saw that riize is 7 again & seunghan is back 🙂‍↕️

[nami-moittli]

Ok, so, been thinking about College age! Jotaro, and I’m like 90% sure that he went to college in Florida, because, how else would he have met his canon wife? I mean, a few ways I guess, but this is also Jotaro Fucking Kujo we’re talking about here. So, yeah, him going to college in Florida is fun.

If I were more committed to this, I’d look up colleges in Florida that have good marine biology programs or something, but I’m not. Also I’m not a college student myself so I’m just guessing here based off what I’ve heard/seen

Alright? Alright

First day in the town he ends up in a stand fight

Both of them hate it when it turns out that they’re roommates

Jolyne’s mom, who I’ll call Marina, was one of the few girls who didn’t immediately swoon over Jotaro, gaining her instant respect in Jotaro’s mind

Marina and Jotaro sit next to each other in one of their classes

They also share this class with Jotaro’s roommate

Jotaro and his roommate sit on opposite sides of the room

Note, this roommate does have a design, but not a name yet

Jotaro ends up moving off campus, with Joseph buying him a house nearby

It turns out that Hol Horse is in the same area that Jotaro is. It was very awkward passing by each other on the street

One day they need to to a group project in groups of three, and while Jotaro and his ex-roommate still don’t like each other, they’d both rather do this thing with someone they know

Jotaro and his ex roommate have a silent agreement that Marina doesn’t need to know about Stand Business

One day the three of them are eating out and it turns out that Hol Horse actually really likes that place

The two try their best to not look at each other

Marina notices anyway, and dispute Jotaro telling her that he doesn’t know him/isn’t friends with him, he fails and Marina goes over to talk to him

Turns out he’s not that bad of a guy, though it’s still very awkward

The fact that Jotaro no longer has a roommate is soon ignored due to the fact that his ex roommate and Marina are over there all the time

Not sure about Marina, but Ex-Roommate is a politics major probably

Not sure what class a kid studying marine biology and a kid studying politics would share, but for the sake of plot and ✨Stand Magnetism BS✨ they share one

Ex-Roommate’s Stand is called American Idiot, though that’s basically all that I’ve figured out about it

Jotaro ends up smoking so many cigarettes a day that Marina eventually confiscates them all, she enlists Ex-Roommate’s help to take away any Jotaro might have

Jotaro ends up drinking a lot of coffee between early morning classes and stand attacks. He probably starts putting in energy drinks into his coffee

Marina is not able to take this away from him however, because then she’d be a hypocrite. Not to the degree of Jotaro, but still. She is also sleep deprived

I think that’s all I have for now? Like I said, I do have some drawings of Ex-Roommate, and I’ll provide some more details when I share those, but yeah. Also, like I said, I haven’t gone to college yet so I don’t know how much it works, but yeah. Just some thoughts

Also, I made a post about my OC fella and I already love him lol: here he is!

[beepingmemesauce2727]

Plans for future Spidey-Villains if I were in charge of continuing The Spectacular Spider-Man.

Mac Gargan / Scorpion:

• Private Investigator hired by J. Jonah Jameson, like in the comics

• Fails due to Peter using his spider-sense to evade him, leading to him being fired by Jameson, which not only causes him to lose his job, but also leaves him homeless, but is offered a second chance by a man claiming to work for The Kingpin

• Registers for an experimental operation by Wilson Fisk and Alastair Smythe, the idea behind the operation being to essentially create a genetically-enhanced police officer

• He is injected with multiple steroids that enhance his physical strength, and his outfitted with bulletproof armor equipped with a cybernetic tail

• Same story as in the comics basically, he is sent to capture Spider-Man, but over time, the chemical augmentations start affecting his brain and drive him to insanity, leading him to paralyze Smythe, and attack J.J.J., Peter promptly defeats him

• Eventually joins a new version of the Sinister Six

Roderick Kingsley / Hobgoblin

• Perfume company CEO, wants to buy Oscorp, but Harry doesn't like him as he thinks Oscorp is the "Osborn Family Legacy", Roderick doesn't like Harry either, seeing him as a nepo baby, (which Harry kind of is)

• Has a twin-brother named Daniel, but is less successful than Roderick, leading to constant belittling by his older brother

• Secretly does shady business deals, like in Season 2 where he attended the auction with NYC's various crime lords

• Hires a spy to infiltrate Oscorp one night, that thug discovers the Green Goblin's tech, spy steals it and brings it back to Roderick

• Roderick sees an opportunity, and creates a new persona, The Hobgoblin, and learns that Osborn used performance-enhancers to gain his superhuman powers

• Creates a chemical compound that includes all of the effects of the original Globulin Green with none of the side-effects

• Roderick decides he can frame other people as the Hobgoblin so he can get away with his crimes scott-free and take control of Oscorp and expand his business

• Multiple people are framed for being the Hobgoblin throughout the third season, including Ned Leeds, Harry Osborn, Emily Osborn, J. Jonah Jameson, and even Roderick's own brother Daniel

• Enters a turf war with Wilson Fisk

• Eventually, Roderick is outed as the Hobgoblin, and is imprisoned

Art by TheJikaruss on Deviantart

Micheal Morbius / Morbius the Living Vampire

• Born in Greece in 1939, raised in America

• Was raised by his single mother, his father left his mother before he was born

• His mother died of a rare illness which caused her blood cells to rapidly degenerate, and eventually, Michael develops this disorder as well

• He meets Emil Nikos, and they become best friends, Nikos finds out about Michael's condition and vows to help him create a cure

• They won a Nobel Prize for their achievements in hematological research, and used the money to conduct the experiment that would cure Michael of his condition in 1971

• The experiment involved injecting Michael with a serum derived from the DNA of vampire bats, and electroshock therapy to enhance Michael's mutated blood cells

• The experiment goes awry, and Michael is transformed into a hideous creature resembling a vampire

• Michael kills Nikos in a bloodthirsty rage, and only regains his senses when he has completely drained Nikos of his blood

• Wracked with immeasurable guilt, Michael attempts suicide, but saves himself as living is a habit

• He roams the world for decades, eventually stumbling upon the house of Curt and Martha Connors, who he attacks while Peter is on a school field trip to the Florida Everglades

Morris Bench / Hydro-Man

• Demolitions expert, as he is in the show

• His wife divorced him a few months prior to the series, so he's a bit depressed

• He is brought to an experiment taking place on a cargo ship overseen by Oscorp, where there are experimenting with a device that can filter out hazardous chemicals in the world's various oceans

• The ship is attacked by the Hobgoblin, who is trying to steal technology, a fight breaks out between Spider-Man and Hobgoblin, and in the scuffle, Morris is knocked overboard

• Morris' body reacts strangely to the generator's radioactive materials, which causes his body to break down and then reform itself into a body that can transform itself into living water

• Hydro-Man escapes the hospital he was held in, and runs into the Hobgoblin, who convinces Morris that Spider-Man is responsible for his condition, and Hydro-Man swears revenge against the web-slinger

• He battles Spider-Man, who defeats him by freezing him with liquid nitrogen, and handing him over to the NYPD

• He is imprisoned, but eventually thawed out to join a new version of the Sinister Six

Cletus Kasady / Carnage

• Cletus is revealed to be a serial killer like in the comics

• He was born to Roscoe and Louise Kasady, and after he tortured and killed his mother's dog, he was sent to the St. Estes Home for Unwanted Children

• After he burned down the orphanage and killed the staff and its students, he murdered his parents as revenge for locking him up in that hell-hole

• He went on to murder several more people, until he was arrested, where the judge labeled him insane and had Cletus sent to the Ravencroft Institute for the Criminally Insane, where he "befriended" Eddie Brock

• After the Venom Symbiote returns to Eddie in his and Cletus' cell, Eddie turns into Venom and causes a break out

• Little did Eddie know, the symbiote had produced an offspring, and it bonded to Cletus' bloodstream, turning the symbiote red and giving it full control over Kasady's cellular structure, making him much stronger than Eddie and Venom

• Cletus became Carnage, and resumed his killing spree, but on a mass scale, turning anyone in his way into his symbiote possessed minions

• Spider-Man realizes he has no choice but to team up with Venom. He also joins up with Black Cat, Cloak & Dagger, Morbius, Sandman, Prowler, and Silver Sable to take down Carnage and his drones

• Carnage is eventually defeated, and the symbiote hordes are returned to normal

• Cletus is imprisoned by S.H.I.E.L.D., due to the catastrophic event he just caused, and that's the last we ever see of Carnage

• Or is it?

Hobie Brown / Prowler

• He becomes friends with Peter in Season 3

• He has a bone to pick with Harry Osborn due to his doping in Season 2

• However, his girlfriend Mindy McPherson is kidnapped by the Hobgoblin's men, and he takes matters into his own hands

• He dons the Prowler suit for the first time, and takes out mutiple caches of Hobgoblin's goons throughout the city in order to get to Mindy

• He runs into Spider-Man, and they get into a disagreement on how to take down The Hobgoblin, Peter just wants to simply defeat Hobgoblin and bring him to justice, whereas Hobie wants to kill Hobgoblin, and they get into a fight

• They eventually stop fighting, and put their differences aside to save Mindy

• They defeat Hobgoblin and his men and save Mindy, but Hobgoblin escapes before he can be arrested

• Prowler eventually teams up with Spidey again during the "Maximum Carnage" event

John Jameson / Man-Wolf

• Still in Ravencroft after Season 2

• He's still obsessed with the strength he obtained during his time as Colonel Jupiter

• He is visited in his cell by J.J.J. and Miles Warren, who offers to give him back the power he so desperately wants

• He is injected with a steroid that turns him back into Colonel Jupiter, and he becomes an ally to Spider-Man again

• Warren secretly installed nanites into John's bloodstream that would activate under lunar rays

• During one night out on patrol, John keeled over in pain and transformed into a hulking canine creature dubbed The Man-Wolf

• Man-Wolf eventually attacked his father at the DB, but Spider-Man used an antidote on John that eliminated the nanites in his system and turned him back into a human

• John was eventually turned back into Man-Wolf, and kidnapped by Kraven the Hunter and forced to fight Spider-Man again during this show's adaptation of "Kraven's Last Hunt", (Man-Wolf takes the place of Vermin) but after Kraven dies, Spider-Man goes after Man-Wolf and turns him back into a human again

• Warren finds a strand of Man-Wolf's hair, and keeps it along with a sample of Globulin Green...for safe keeping

Prof. Miles Warren / Jackal

• He's taken Dr. Connors' place as ESU's science division

• He has an assistant named Debra Whitman

• He was behind Molten Man and Man-Wolf, and will be the ultimate mastermind behind the Clone Saga

• He creates a clone of Peter and Gwen, the Peter clone is used to tarnish Peter's reputation as Spider-Man, while the Gwen clone would become Miles' surrogate daughter

• Miles' wife and daughter died prior to the series in an accident, and Gwen reminded him of his daughter

• So that when she died, Miles had a mental breakdown and decided to use his expertise in cellular biology to create a perfect clone of Gwen

• But Peter and his clone eventually put aside their differences, and confronted Miles in the ESU lab

• As a last resort, he injected himself with a serum comprised of canine DNA and Norman Osborn's Goblin serum, turning him into a monster called The Jackal

• He's eventually defeated, imprisoned, and returned to his human form after a vicious fight with Peter Parker and Ben Reilly

• He later escapes prison and creates a newer, stronger clone he calls Kaine, he brainwashes Kaine and sends him after Peter and Ben

• Kaine is eventually freed from his brainwashing and kills Miles for all the people he's hurt, Peter, Gwen, Curt Connors and his family, Mark Allan, and John Jameson

Art by Lunamidnight1998 on Deviantart

Martin Li / Mr. Negative

• Was experimented on by Wilson Fisk's head scientist, Dr. Jonathan Ohnn, and was imbued with Light & Darkforce powers

• Runs a soup kitchen with Aunt May and Nathan Lubensky called F.E.A.S.T.

• Secretly a crime lord called Mr. Negative and forms a group called the Inner Demons

• The experiments by Dr. Ohnn also created Cloak & Dagger

• Becomes the third wheel in The Kingpin and Hobgoblin's Turf War

• Eventually depowered and redeemed

Thank you for reading! :)

[shermanluxurygroupsblog]

Looking to buy a house in Florida? Discover the best places to invest in real estate in 2023. Explore Fort Lauderdale, Weston, Pompano Beach, and Cooper City. This Infographic highlights each location's unique features, housing options, benefits, and community amenities. Get expert advice from the Sherman Luxury Group and find your perfect investment property in Florida.

[martiandmichelle]

Welcome to Studio M North!

Hi all. It's Roxy writing from our new Studio located on over 1,000 beautiful acres high in the Appalachian Mountains. Marti, Maria, a new and amazing lady named Mirren (more later), Kaatje (Marti's assitant), another newbie, Jerri, to assist Maria and Mirren, and little old me have all moved to this gorgeous house with beautiful mountain views, creeks, and even a waterfall! (Of course our dogs went with us, too.) We moved here in late April and have finally got our internet up and running and thus the delay in posting here. The six of us will be here full time until at least October 1.

A bit more about Studio M North, but I first should say the original Studio M is still very much alive and running and we fully intend to return to Florida in the fall. In essence, Michelle (Marti's daughter as most of you know) bought this place because Marti has wanted to spend some time in the mountains and is feeling some burn out; Michelle then rented it to the studio and, well, here we are. And don't worry about Michelle: she makes enough money now to buy a house like Studio M North - "The North" as we like to call it - every month!

And it is also a great getaway for Maria. Maria and Michelle amicably divorced recently; Michelle was spending all her time with her men and the change was best for the both of them. Still, Maria needed a break just like Marti. She has, at least while at The North, retired from behind the camera to be in front of the camera full time (did I hear clapping from you guys?).

But this house will be a STUDIO, too, as the title of this post points out. We're doing a series starring Marti, Maria, and Mirren - and maybe a bit of me, too! Others from the Florida studio will come stay with us for guest parts - by others I mean other ladies like Dana, Gail, Emily and many others.

So anyway, we're back online and hopefully back in your inbox. I'll write more soon - especially about the incredible Miss Mirren - and also about the goings on back down south.

Love,

Roxy

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 7/11/23, timezone change edition

the last time i wrote one of these things, i was not quite fully packed up in ma. now, i am technically temporarily homeless in houston, bc the apartment i originally signed on was completely unlivable. crashing in an acquaintance's guest room for a bit while i have a very bad time with apartment hunting round 2

i have lived in south florida, staten island, and various shithole student housing. i understand seasonal bugs in hot places and things such as different kinds of roaches and palmetto bugs. when i say that apartment had the worst roach infestation i've ever seen i fucking mean it. in theory i will get my full deposits back, but they're taking their sweet fucking time about it.

but having that full yes-i-know-about-seasonal-roaches conversation with new acquaintances and leasing agents takes too long so i've resorted to saying it had a horrific bedbug problem, which everyone seems to go Oh Okay Yeah Reasonable For You To Leave much more quickly.

listening

a lot of early aughts dance pop standards, to chase away the agonies as i drive to and from apartments only to get ghosted, find they were rented a week ago, or find that they look absolutely nothing like the pictures. i was really torn on which britney song to pick for this week until my sister sent me Twin Flame by Maude Latour, which i can only describe as "douchebag get the girl back song but for lesbians". spotify

also how do we like the "featured link from bandcamp or soundcloud with additional spotify link" format? in an ideal world i would buy all my music directly from the artists but realistically i use spotify 90% of the time. i don't know what your life is like, tell me if this is helpful or not.

-

reading

my best friend made sad faces at me until i read The Flatshare by Beth O'Leary, and it was a little nice to see someone else's dire housing situation get resolved neatly and with thematic consistence in several hundred pages. it was also nice to text her snippets with "WHAT?????" every so often. this is a reading experience i don't have very often bc our current reading tastes don't overlap even a little bit.

i don't have much to say about it bc i didn't have particularly strong feelings and don't really read mainstream straight romance, so i can't point out what this did differently or well compared to its peers. if nothing else, it was a fluffy bit of distraction, and i think that's kind of the point?

(image from Tor) also read Saad Z. Hossein's Kundo Wakes Up novella in a waffle house while eating some of the best scrambled eggs i've ever had in my life.

this novella was the closest thing i've ever read to "aging English professor has an affair" without actually containing any of those elements. generally i enjoy his work, but this was sort of a way to check up and tie off many characters from previous works with a sort of light frosting of "my wife left me and i don't know why [ rot13:v pna znxr fbzr thrffrf ohg gurer vf ab zbzrag bs frys-ernyvmngvba, bapr ur svaqf uvf jvsr ur whfg perrcf ba ure sebz nsne naq nsgre qrgrezvavat fur'f abg jvgu nalbar arj znxrf gur gerzraqbhf fnpevsvpvny qrpvfvba gb yrnir ure nybar op fur'f zhpu unccvre jvgubhg uvz. gurer vf ab zbzrag bs frys-ernyvmngvba nobhg jul fur zvtug unir yrsg uvz. xhaqb arire trgf bhg bs uvf bja shpxvat urnq bapr.]"

while The Gurkha and the Lord of Thursday novella (TREMENDOUS) and Cyber Mage book (fun but with some dire pacing issues) are fairly standalone, i cannot imagine you'd get much out of Kundo Wakes Up if you haven't read the other two. for some reason none of the libraries i have access to have his other book Djinn City, so we'll have to procure that elsewhere.

-

watching

the dnd movie, the day after i broke my lease on the roach apartment. i don't remember a ton about this movie. do generally like a heist. michelle rodriguez was hot

-

playing

genshin. listen. it is a free and familiar way to turn my brain off by doing open world exploration and puzzles but CRUCIALLY! most of it is completely new to me. i have not played this game in a year and a half. i have not played this game since right before enkanomiya. there was no chasm. there was no Sumeru. i have absolutely no idea what’s happening lore-wise.

i pulled for the fancy ice claymore lady and got a catboy archer (at least i think it is a catboy? the ears do give a pharaoh hound vibe... he is distinct from the extant dogboy archer). not terrible but not my vibe.

i have been enjoying the shit out of the temporary summer event carnival space. they really did pull out several stops by introducing a ton of genuinely interesting and innovating little new mechanics and mini games. delightful!

-

making

altering the worst shorts ive ever seeeeeeeeen with a demure little two-inch side slit on both legs bc my thighs simply will not quit. mens shorts are so much better than womens shorts in nearly every way except for the catastrophic physical fit issues.

when i got ghosted by two different apartments on saturday i bought myself a spoon ring so chunky it makes my other chunky rings look positively delicate by comparison. not very comfy to drive in but fine to wear while tippy tappying on the spreadsheets

a girl i saw for one singular awful date in 2016 called my hands "coarse but honest" and i think about that every time my hands are in a photo. what did that even fucking MEAN, [REDACTED]?

[infinite-orangepeel]

stobin excerpt from its rotten work (loving a heart like mine)

What did you do? What the fuck did you do?

She’d screamed loud as a banshee–kept him awake and alive with the volume–as Russian expletives were spat right back into her beautiful face, as rough hands groped her sides. Tawny freckles splattered with his blood and hers–refusing to let go. Refusing to flee.

The best friend he’d ever had.

He’d realized it as his chin was met with another kick from a steel-toed military boot. Blood everywhere, thick and sticky like the hot fudge they served on banana splits behind the counter. Two months scooping ice scream and this girl–this girl he’d spent years passing and ignoring in the halls of Hawkins High–was ready to lay down and die for him. Promised to protect him no matter what. Distracted him with stories of far off places–her bedroom, marching band practice, a trip to her grandma’s house in Florida.

She had his heart, she had his soul dripping red in her hands–coloring the tops of her starched white knee socks. He promised to buy her new ones at any store she wanted–anywhere in the mall if the thing was still standing, if they were.

Don’t touch him! Don’t you dare touch him! Take me instead! Let him go! Let him go!

And, if he hadn’t been paralyzed by the Russian chemical evil coursing through his veins, he would have been begging for the same exchange. His life for hers. Knew he didn’t deserve that type of sacrifice. Didn’t deserve her kindness.

Robin–the girl with the freckles, the girl who liked girls, the girl with a sweet tooth, the girl with fire in her heart.

Even as the tranquilizer entered her bloodstream–she fought for him, was willing to die for him. Didn’t think twice.

It had almost been the end for both of them.

Almost.

[worldpoliticsreviews]

Florida Immigration News: What You Need to Know

Introduction

So, you’ve been hearing a lot about immigration in Florida lately, right? New laws, more restrictions, and a lot of heated debates. But what’s really going on? And how does it affect people living in Florida?

Let’s dive into the latest Florida immigration news and break down what it means for immigrants, residents, and the community. We’ll keep it simple, straightforward, and to the point.

What’s New in Florida Immigration?

The immigration scene in Florida is changing fast. New laws and policies are being put in place that affects everyone—from new arrivals to long-term residents.

Here’s a quick rundown of what’s been happening lately:

E-Verify for Jobs: Florida now requires employers to use E-Verify to check if their workers are legally allowed to work. This affects hiring across many industries.

Tighter Residency Rules: New rules make it tougher to prove you live in Florida, which can impact everything from school enrollment to getting a driver’s license.

Law Enforcement Involvement: Local police are now more involved in enforcing federal immigration laws, which has increased deportations.

How Are These Changes Affecting People in Florida?

These new laws aren’t just headlines—they’re affecting real lives. For many immigrants and their families, things are getting tougher.

What’s the Impact?

Jobs and Employment: With the new E-Verify requirements, some businesses are struggling to find workers, especially in sectors like farming and hospitality.

Housing Issues: Uncertainty about immigration status is making some people hesitant to buy homes or invest in property. This has created a bit of a ripple effect in the housing market.

What Do These New Policies Mean for Immigrants?

For immigrants, the stakes are high. The new rules make life more complicated, especially for those who are undocumented or in the process of getting their status sorted.

Key Points to Understand:

More Deportations: There’s been an uptick in deportations, even for those who have been in Florida for years and have built their lives here.

Increased Scrutiny: With more checks and balances, undocumented immigrants face greater challenges accessing basic services and staying under the radar.

Navigating the Immigration Maze

Let’s face it—dealing with immigration laws isn’t easy. It’s confusing and stressful. But there are ways to make it a bit smoother.

Tips to Keep in Mind:

Get Legal Help: There are plenty of organizations in Florida that offer free or low-cost legal advice. Don’t go through this alone.

Stay Informed: Laws change fast. Keep up with the latest updates so you know what’s happening.

Keep Records: Keep all your documents in order. It’s boring but super important.

Challenges Immigrants Face in Florida

Moving to a new place is hard enough. Now add in the new laws and it becomes even tougher for immigrants in Florida.

Biggest Hurdles:

Access to Services: From healthcare to education, proving eligibility can be a real headache.

Language Barriers: Not everyone speaks English fluently, and that can make accessing services or understanding legal rights even more challenging.

Success Stories: Immigrants Making It Big in Florida

It’s not all bad news. Many immigrants are thriving in Florida, showing resilience and determination.

Examples of Success:

Starting Businesses: From local restaurants to tech startups, immigrant entrepreneurs are making their mark.

Community Support: Strong immigrant communities are providing support networks that help newcomers find their footing.

Florida’s Take on Federal Immigration Laws

Florida’s approach to immigration doesn’t always match up with what’s happening at the federal level. It can get pretty confusing.

Key Differences to Note:

Florida is taking a tougher stance than some other states.

There’s ongoing debate within the state about whether this is the best approach.

Support Organizations for Immigrants in Florida

Luckily, there are a lot of organizations stepping up to help immigrants navigate these tough times.

Top Picks:

Florida Immigrant Coalition: Provides legal aid and community support.

American Immigration Council: Offers resources and advocacy for immigrants.

The Business Side of Immigration in Florida

Immigrants play a huge role in Florida’s economy. Many businesses depend on immigrant workers and are advocating for fairer immigration practices.

Why It Matters:

Labor Force: Many industries rely on immigrant labor to function, especially agriculture and hospitality.

Business Advocacy: Some business groups are pushing back against stricter immigration laws, arguing they hurt the economy more than they help.

How Immigrants Boost Florida’s Economy

Immigrants aren’t just living in Florida; they’re contributing significantly to its economic growth.

Economic Contributions:

Workforce Diversity: Immigrants fill critical roles in various industries.

Entrepreneurship: Immigrant-owned businesses are thriving, creating jobs and stimulating local economies.

What’s Coming Next for Immigration in Florida?

So, what can we expect in the future? Things are still up in the air, but here are a few things to keep an eye on:

What to Watch For:

Policy Changes: With elections on the horizon, immigration policies could shift again.

Advocacy Efforts: Groups continue to fight for more compassionate immigration reforms.

Getting Ready for Potential Reforms

If you’re an immigrant in Florida, being prepared is key. Here’s what you can do to stay ahead:

Steps to Take:

Stay Informed: Make sure you know what’s going on with immigration laws.

Seek Legal Help: Don’t be afraid to ask for advice from professionals.

Get Involved: Join local immigrant support groups and community organizations.

Legal Help for Immigrants in Florida

Finding the right legal help can make a world of difference.

Where to Look:

Legal Aid Organizations: Many offer free or low-cost services to help immigrants.

Community Clinics: Often run by universities, these clinics can provide valuable assistance.

Conclusion

Florida’s immigration landscape is complex and ever-changing. Whether you’re directly affected or just want to stay informed, it’s important to keep up with the latest news and understand the impact on your community.

Remember, if you’re an immigrant in Florida, there’s help out there. Stay informed, get the support you need, and keep pushing forward.

FAQs

1. What are the new immigration laws in Florida? Florida has introduced stricter E-Verify requirements for jobs and tougher rules for proving residency.

2. How can immigrants find legal help in Florida? Organizations like the Florida Immigrant Coalition offer free or low-cost legal services.

3. What rights do immigrants have in Florida? Immigrants have the right to legal representation and protection from discrimination, among other rights.

4. Are there organizations that support immigrants in Florida? Yes, several organizations provide support, including legal aid, community resources, and advocacy.

5. How do immigrants contribute to Florida's economy? Immigrants contribute through their roles in the workforce and as entrepreneurs, boosting local economies.

[smallerplaces]

House inventory

With Arvin Lebec's modern condo proceeding apace, I decided to record all my other dollhouse to-do projects. These may push building the Mulberry Lane into 2025, but that's okay.

Because these are complex little things that are a bit of a mess, the alt-text descriptions will focus on what I want you to notice.

The Playmobil Victorian Mansion is my sole 1:18 house at the moment. It's inhabited by a pack of Lil Bratz, and I resisted buying more at the thrift store. Some need new hair rubbers when I braid Kid Kore Dancing Brook's hair.

I'm going to move the best of my Jaydon furniture in here with the DIY Modern Minis and sell or donate the remainder of the Jaydon.

The house itself primarily needs curtains that match the current decor, and a good spray paint job on the dollar-store beds. Alas, spray painting season ended yesterday, so this one is a project for next summer.

The Modern Abode is the house I've had longest -- Dad built it when I was three -- and I was thrilled to re-find, in the back of one of Mom's boxes, the Japan Center furniture I'd used in it years ago.

The goal is a very Zen-looking house, which requires a different style of origami paper than what I bought in San Francisco last year. Progress is delayed until the next time we go to the city or to Daiso, but it's a two-evening project, max.

The real challenge is to clear up the mess in front of it.

The Florida Barn got its rehab last winter. All I need to do is work out the land-sea arrangement around it, and I have the scrapbook paper for that. So this needs max two hours of attention some afternoon when I'm bored.

The Maine Cottage is the Project House that's the biggest problem right now. I bought a Melissa & Doug portable 1:24 house at Saver's for $4 shortly after my visit to Maine in summer 2020 (New England had vanishingly low covid levels and I wore a mask indoors). I got it mostly painted, then completely froze on the trim color, ran out of touch-up paints, and stopped. I did find the right paint set before moving, and I have all the furniture and a ton of plausible wallpaper, so this should be first winter dollhouse project.

The Sunflower Cottage was a spontaneous project last December and took maybe two nights. I'm going to dust it and bring it out for Christmas.

This tree was a $5 impulse purchase at Target last year. If I could once decide what it is, I could improve it in an evening.

The Hipster Restaurant was another Target impulse purchase. Its concept is in place, but it needs a couple hours' work on accessories.

This is another of Dad's creations, in 1:48. I love this house but Mom got rid of its proper furniture years ago, and I haven't decided how to furnish it. I'm okay with this being a low priority for a bit.

The Birdhouse Project was something I started last fall, to have a hands-on project in evenings. It stalled on indecisiveness over how to furnish the little houses. I like it and need some thought on un-stalling it.

This is an Art Minds kind that I got at Michaels, last year, believing it would be 1:24 because I put no mental effort into checking. I love the house and it's going to be part of the Birdhouse Project, so it has the same un-stalling issues.

This birdhouse has no project assigned to it, having been an impulse purchase at Dollar Tree. I'm okay with that level of "useful to have but idk" because after Mom's hoard, it's so minor.