#he then slurped the alfredo

[marshzamillo]

Birthday with the family, they don’t know. Friend goes “no wonder you’re married” they don’t know. Assuming he is joking they continue the conversation. I love large chaotic gatherings

#marriage #birthday #happy chaos #I can’t believe he said that #glaring over pasta #he looks away #I mouth “why would you say that” #he forgot it’s a secret #he looked scared #he then slurped the alfredo

[kvtie444]

°•★ SOLO .3

a/n: this took so long omds, i luv this song

Summary: reader moves to LA for work and becomes the sturniolos editor, but what happens when she falls for someone unexplected…

Warnings: mentions of drinking, swearing, suggestive?

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Slurpppp. Slurppp. The resonating sound of Chris's cereal-slurping dominates the morning ambiance. "Chris, can you shut up?" Nick's frustration punctuates the air. My gaze avoids Chris's as I observe the unfolding scene. Chris maintains eye contact with Nick, defiantly slurping the remaining contents of his bowl. He abruptly rises, the clash of the bowl and spoon in the sink echoing through the room as he angrily stomps downstairs.

"The fuck is his problem?" Matt's muttered inquiry accompanies the rhythmic sip of his drink. My cold, untouched coffee becomes a silent witness to my detachment from everything following the blurry night. "What was he even doing up here last night?" Matt asked, and as all eyes turn to me, "He came up for a drink and was being annoying" I lie.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

In the sanctuary of my home, I immersed myself in the editing of the latest vlog. Laura's ecstatic response to the fresh love shoot photos had prompted her to arrange a dinner – a reward for me, Madi, and the triplets. Despite the anticipation of the evening, stress gripped me relentlessly.

As I concluded my editing, I rose to indulge in a comprehensive shower, given the sophistication of the venue Laura had chosen and her directive for us to dress elegantly. Emerging from the shower, I prepared – from hair to makeup. A black mini skirt paired with a lace long-sleeved top and a bralette underneath comprised my chosen attire. I adorned my favourite necklace and stepped into heels, donned my jacket, and grabbed my bag before capturing a photos and booking an Uber to the restaurant.

Spotting Madi through the glass door, I expressed gratitude to my Uber driver before entering. Madi, adorned in her dress, greeted me with a smile, praising my appearance. "You look so good," she remarked. "All you, girl," I responded. She informed me that the boys were already at the table. A worker approached, asking for my jacket – a small "oh" escaped my lips as I handed it over, receiving a small ticket in return.

As Madi and I approached the table, the restaurant's grandeur unfolded before me – a breathtaking crystal chandelier above our circular table, accompanied by intricate ceiling art. Madi settled next to Chris and Nick, leaving the sole vacant chair between Matt and Chris. Matt courteously pulled my chair back, and I conveyed a silent thank you. Greetings and small talk ensued, except for Chris, who remained engrossed in his phone. I observed him – a toothpick between his lips, black jeans paired with a Ralph Lauren sweatshirt, and a recently shaved face. Reluctantly, I can't help but think about how good he looks right now.

Perusing the menu, a waiter with dark blonde, wavy hair, and captivating dark blue eyes approached. Starting from Madi, he eventually reached me, inquiring with a smirk, "And for the pretty lady?" I couldn't help but smile, ordering chicken Alfredo and a glass of Sauvignon Blanc. He lingered for a moment, holding eye contact, then turned to Chris, "And for you?" Chris responded, "I'll have the same as the pretty lady."

Attention shifted to Chris, whose gaze turned icy as he glared at the waiter. Tension hung in the air until the waiter diffused it, leaving to bring our drinks. Embarrassed, I refocused on Chris. Nick sternly confronted him, "What is your problem?" Chris dismissed it, "the waiter should focus on his job rather than flirting". I scoffed, "As if you don't do the same when you work." Chris redirected his focus, "don't be jealous that at the shoot I-" "don't even Chris yo-", Nick cut me off, "can we not enjoy one fucking meal without an argument?". The table fell silent. The waiter returned with our drinks, I look at Chris, the same lips that were once all over me were now spitting insults at me.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

After settling the bill, we ventured into a separate area of the restaurant adorned with a bar, bathed in an ethereal glow of purple lights, creating an ambiance distinctly different from the main room. At the bar, surrounded by the enigmatic radiance, we all ordered our drinks – my choice being a vodka cranberry. Madi and I gravitated a bit further away, finding a secluded spot to sip on our drinks.

"What. happened back there? with Chris?" Madi asks me. Contemplating whether to tell her about last night's events, I decided it was time for confession and advice. Summoning courage, I spoke, "I need to tell you something." She nodded expectantly. Bracing myself, I began, "Last night I-" but before I could continue, a voice interrupted us, "can I have a word?" – Chris, the source of turmoil. Madi excused herself, leaving me to confront Chris once again.

"What do you want?" I sighed, finding myself once again in the orbit of Chris. He licked his lips for a second before speaking up, "Need to talk to you," his eyes unapologetically tracing the contours of my top, fixating on the slivers of skin beneath the lace. "Go on," I said, reining in my irritation, urging him to proceed. He inched closer, and I maintained my composure.

"I didn't like that whole waiter situation earlier," he said in a hushed tone. I scoffed, a near-laugh escaping me, "Are you serious? How is a guy flirting with me my fault?" I furrowed my eyebrows, challenging his perspective. He shrugged, "Just tryna help you see what’s best for you." I tilted my head, inquiring, "And what's that?" He smirked ever so slightly, "Someone who could actually satisfy you." My jaw almost dropped at the audacity of his statement. What the fuck.

In a moment of silence, I avert my gaze, avoiding eye contact. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you," Chris commands. Meeting his eyes, he smirks again. "Chris," I practically whisper. Leaning even closer, he taunts, "Bet he couldn't even make you cum." My jaw drops at his audacity. "Shut up," I mumble, looking away. "Hm?" he hums mockingly, "What, have you never had an orgasm before?" He chuckles, and I glance to the side. His face lights up with a shit eating grin, "Holy shit, you've never came?" He laughs at my expense. Fed up, I shove his chest, muttering, "Shut the fuck up." His amusement only intensifies.

"What, have you never been fucked senseless before?" Chris leans down, his hot breath sending shivers down the back of my neck. "Had this boyfriend… but I was a bottom… and so was he." I confess, my face turning beet red. Chris bites his lip, snatching my drink from the bar counter and downing it before placing it back. He pushes my hair over my shoulder, and leans into my ear "Well, if you wanna cum so hard you can't walk the next day, you know where to find me."

My stomach does flips as he walks away, leaving me bewildered and alone, a disorienting echo of the previous night. What the fuck.

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tag list !!

@iloveneilperry @bernardenjoyer @daddyslilchickenfingers @mbbsgf @sturnvilmed @s1urnioloslvr @mattsbratt @mangoposts @christinarowie332 @recklesssturniolo @bluesturniolo333 @flowerxbunnie @kenzieiskoolaid @pepsiskiess @poopydroopt @byechristopher @solarsturniolo @m6ttsturniolo @lustfulslxt @stardustmf444 @thankyounextt @glossyfx @bellasturniolo @justurniolos @cl0esblogg @strumbolisworld @strniolosworld @chrisloyalgf @aliyahsbody @spideylovin @justangelheree @sturnioloenthusiast @nickmillersn1gf @soursturniolo@bernardenjoyer

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #imagine #angst #chris sturniolo x reader #fluff #smut #Spotify

[eldritch-spouse]

Using an instant ramen cup against Morell or Cero like a cross against a vampire

Morell counters your blasphemy by holding Alfredo to it, who just opens his trash compactor of a mouth and inhales that thing like Kirby, cup and all. You are grounded for daring to besmirch his kitchen with such foul inedible poison.

Cero looks down upon you as if you have the dignity and general importance of an insect. The ramen cup is knocked out of your hands, and he demands you go wash them before taking your uncultured dumbass out for a proper meal. Later, you will find Rieba munching on said uncooked noodles and slurping the sauce packet like the freak woman she is.

#Morell oc #Cero oc #she does it for the crunch and the fläevór

[phykios]

If I Were A Blackbird, part 12 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

His Majesty King Frederick III of Sweden, dispensing entirely with etiquette, noisily slurped up a noodle, and then picked out a bit of chicken with his fork, before grasping it between his fingers and popping it in his mouth. “Mm,” he hummed. “Delicious. Nothing like a classic American alfredo.” 

Annabeth, Crown Princess and Duchess of Södermanland, pushed her pasta around the plate, stomach too tight to eat. 

Over the last few years, dinner with her father had become less and less of a frightening affair. Which was ironic, because in that time he’d gone from being a regular old prince, to the King. With all the divine power and magical rituals that went along with it. 

It helped that the Princess Consort rarely joined them anymore, a decision Annabeth was pretty sure traced to the fact that she was the Princess Consort, and not the Queen. And dinners that had once felt like they took place between Princess Annabeth and Prince Frederick now feel more like they are just between Annabeth and her dad. 

She liked that. 

But it didn’t stop her from stress-knitting a sweater for Percie on her flight all morning and afternoon after being informed via calendar notification that she had been invited to dinner with the king upon her arrival back home. 

The sweater was dark blue and had the Olympic rings, matching the one she had knitted for her dog’s namesake. And also the one she was making for herself. 

“Guido really outdid himself with dinner tonight,” he said, dabbing at his face with a napkin, “but it still isn’t as good as the donut you brought me from New York.” He grinned at her. “We really do need to get them to build a Dunkin here.”

She couldn’t help but grin back. “Maybe that will be my first act as queen.”

He laughed. “A good use of your divine rights, but I am not sure I want to wait that long. Do you think I would be able to get a Dunkaccino in Fólkvangr?”

“Well you certainly seem sure of your future.”

“One must be prepared to dream big,” he said, “particularly when one is a king.” 

“An iced coffee and a warrior's death,” she laughed. “What more could a king ask for?”

His smile dropped, face hardening, and the very air seemed to grow… uncomfortable. He considered her, and carefully put down his fork. “Perhaps nothing more a king could want. But… as a father…” 

A chill went down her spine. Oh gods. Oh no. Anything but this. 

And neither, apparently, was her dad, who was suddenly very interested in the embroidery on his napkin. “...Is Percy ready for Athens?” 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. This was what he was playing at? “Yeah, just a few more weeks. He’s excited.” 

“Any chance he’s going to stop by here, on his way?”

“Um, no, he’s got his normal ritual at home, and then he’s heading over with team USA.” She frowned. “Why?”

“Well,” he said, with a significant look, “it will have been four years, at the Olympics, won’t it? And I was wondering when we were going to be seeing him on a more… permanent basis.” 

That brought her up a little short. Percy was around for almost all major holidays now, unless it conflicted with a race. And even then, sometimes he skipped them. What could he possibly want Percy to come back to Sweden for? He’d been here a month for National Day and Midsummer, and the two of them seemed to be getting on fine. 

And as for permanent… he’d more or less abandoned Luke’s apartment in New York City as anything more than a pretense. It was still on his driver's license, but she was pretty sure none of his stuff was there anymore. Two weeks ago, when he’d been in New York for a Good Morning America appearance, he’d stayed over at hers, despite her still being in Sweden at the time. And that wasn’t a rare occurrence. He’d been calling it their apartment for about a year now, and he didn’t even look sheepish about it anymore. 

Percy was a permanent fixture in her life. She was determined to make it so. “It feels pretty permanent to me,” she said, quietly. 

He looked at her, and she looked back, for several long, long seconds, before he sighed and looked away. “Are you really going to demand I say it, dear?”

She sucked in a breath. And here it was. The other shoe, come to drop in between her and Percy. And he had seemed so perfect on paper: he loved her, he was getting good enough at Swedish that he didn’t ask her to translate anything at official dinners anymore, he looked great in a suit by her side, he could smile and wave with the best of them, and he seemed okay with the prospect of that being the rest of his life. So, what problem had been dug up? What was going to prevent Princess Annabeth from being with her prince charming?

“Say what?” If he had a problem with her choice of partner, if he had spent years getting buddy buddy with her, only to crush her dreams worse than before, then he had damn well better spell it out to her face. 

He had to know that Percy was it for her. He wasn’t that oblivious. So, it was all coming back around. He’d asked her, four of five years ago, if she intended to abdicate for true love. He was calling that marker in now. 

He was going to make her choose between Percy and her crown. 

No, worse, he was going to make her choose between Percy and letting her stepmother win. 

“When are you and Percy getting married?” 

And there it was. The ultimatum.

“Well…” Wait. “What?” 

He shrugged again, a touch self-conscious. “Well, dear, you are almost thirty, and while you are certainly young, I know you’ve talked about your plans for your future. And your… desire to secure succession for your descendants.” She felt herself go red at that statement. Though it wasn’t untrue, clearly. “I was just wondering if… now might be the proper time.” 

Well, that wasn’t the other shoe, that was a whole damn Louboutin store. “You want me to make Percy my consort?”

He frowned. “I thought you wanted to make Percy your consort.” 

“I do,” she said, “I do.” By all the gods, Greek and Norse and whatever the hell else there might be out there, did she want to.

“Well then, of course I want you to marry him. I like Percy. You know that.” Which she did. It wasn’t like he had hidden it. “And more than that, I know you love him. And he loves you, and what’s more, accepts you. Accepts all the wonderful parts of you.”

Oh, so that was the other shoe. She couldn’t even properly appreciate her father’s explicit and enthusiastic support of Percy, of her choices, of what she wanted to happen more than anything in the world. 

She groaned and put her head in her hands. 

“Dear, what’s wrong?”

“He hasn’t,” she mumbled into her palms. 

“What?”

“He hasn’t accepted all the parts of me.”

“Oh.” It was silent for a long moment, save for her father fiddling with his napkin. “That’s… Are you sure, dear?”

She looked up. “Huh?”

“Well, I only ask because he’s been such a good sport at dinners. And he was absolutely wonderful during the funeral and the coronation and with everything. I… is he really not on board with royal life?”

“No, no, he’s–we’ve talked about that. Quite a lot. He’s a better sport about,” she waved a hand, “all of that than I deserve.” 

That part was fine. It was just everything else that was the problem. 

“You deserve everything, dear,” her father said without a second's hesitation. “He is, as you say, a good sport, but I do not for a second think that he would be if it wasn’t for you. Trust me when I say, I know the difference between someone who loves the prince versus someone who loves the man. Percy loves you. I promise you dear. I promise you he does.” He took her hand across the table. “Nearly as much as I do.”  

And wasn’t that something. She could stop the feel of tears pooling in her eyes. Her father was staring at her, earnestness plain on his face. She had thought, not two minutes ago, that he meant to separate her from Percy, and he was proclaiming Percy’s love for her. 

Her father, her dad, the King of Sweden, wanted her to be happy and loved and the Queen. And he wanted her to marry Percy Jackson to make it happen. She blinked back the tears as best she could. 

It was not a totally successful endeavor. 

“I haven’t told Percy,” she said, finally, her voice barely more than a whisper. And, she realized a second later, not in Swedish. Or English. Nor her grade school French. She was speaking in ancient Greek. Wasn’t she lucky that Perseus’ name fit so well in this cursed language. “I haven’t told him about my mother, or about our ancestry, or any of it.” 

“I see,” her father said, his Greek not as natural as her, but clear and precise from many years of practice. “Well, do you think that will be a problem?”

“Of course it will be a problem. I have to tell him the gods are real. Like, the Greek gods. And the Norse gods!” 

He waved a hand. “He’s a classicist, I am sure he’s got passing familiarity with it. It isn’t as though you’ll need to worry about him not having paid attention to that lesson in school. I’m sure it will go fine.” 

“You really think so?” she asked, and for a split second, it was like she was back in that diner in California. Trusting her father to soothe her fears, and make it all better. 

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, squeezing her hand. “I think… I think he loves you, and that, to be honest, a royal life is a much bigger burden for him to have to deal with than marrying a demigod. It isn’t as though hydras will be attacking him during his calc finals. I do believe your mother to be far more formidable than the Riksdag, and significantly more beautiful,” he couldn’t help but add, and Annabeth chuckled. “But she could have no objection to Percy, nor your marriage, compared to any other mortal man. But the Riksdag will always want to butt in. He has put up with much worse than your mother. Or our Frey ancestors. And I believe he has shown he will continue to do so. This, all of this, is just a matter of belief. Nothing Percy has said has suggested to me that he’s particularly religious, anyway.” 

“No,” Annabeth conceded, “No, he’s not.” 

“So, I am sure–I am positive–that all will be well.” 

She swallowed a few times, just a little afraid to speak the hope in her chest. To give life to the little hearth in her heart. “I… I think he’ll be alright with it. If I can get him to believe. I think he’ll be able to accept it. To accept me.” 

Her father beamed at her. “And when are you going to tell him?”

“Soon,” she said. “I was thinking maybe in Athens, since we’ll be there together.” 

Her father let out a laugh. “Has this always been your plan?”

“Maybe not always,” she chuckled, “but… I have been thinking about it for a while. A couple of months, at least.” Or maybe a couple of years. “He really wants to get a gold in the Olympics. And this year, he’s the favorite.” 

“There is a long history of royalty competing in the Olympics, all over Europe. I think he could continue, if he doesn’t manage it this time. Though I am told his odds are very good.” 

She smiled at him. It was such a thoughtful thing to say. “He wants to win for team USA,” she said, “and I can’t really begrudge him that if he turns around and immediately devotes his life to Sweden, now can?” 

Her father laughed again. “I suppose not.” 

Her eyes still a little blurry, in her mind she conjured up the wonderful image of him and her in her–their–New York apartment, Percy smiling at her over their kitchen table, and her entire body was seized with a sudden, painful need. “I really, really want to marry him, Dad,” she whispered. 

“I know, dear.” 

“And after we get married, he’s going to be part of this–this machine. So I just have to be honest with him. And let him accomplish as many of his goals as I can.”

“So,” he said. “Athens, then.” 

“Yes.” 

“And you think he’ll propose after that?” 

That would be nice. “I don’t know if he’ll think it's alright, though.”

“Well,” he grinned, a little sheepish, “I may have, ah… cornered him a few months ago and informed him that it would be, so I don’t see why he wouldn’t.” 

“Dad!” She felt the blush coat her cheeks. 

“Honestly, you’ve given me some insight into what was taking him so long. But I do understand his desire to go for gold,” he said, stroking his chin. “If my father, or even Randolph, had prevented me from getting my PhD, or from pursuing some scholarship for a bit, well… I would be very cross indeed.” 

“He deserves it.” 

“He does,” he agreed. “Just as you deserve all those buildings in New York with your name on them.” 

And that’s what did it. She felt the tears fall out of her eyes. 

“I’m going to tell him,” she said, voice thick. “After he wins a gold medal, I’m going to tell him all about it.” 

“Or perhaps,” her father replied, with a sparkle in his eye, “you should tell him before, go up to the Parthenon, tell him about it, and help him pray to Athena and Nike for victory.” 

That… was not a bad idea. Perhaps the ritual nature of it would ease him into the idea. And he was, like her dad said, a classicist. He’d want to see the Parthenon. And she could get him VIP access. Maybe even private access, if she asked the right person. “And Poseidon, too, I think. He is sailing, after all.” Hopefully the lord of the ocean hadn’t heard all the shade Percy had been throwing his way recently. Of if he had, hopefully a sacrifice would soothe his ego.  

“And then, we can finally get through all the paperwork.” 

Annabeth blinked. “What paperwork?”

“All the paperwork I had drawn up to get your marriage approved,” he said. 

“Oh,” she grimaced.

“Sadly, other people will want to hear of it, too. But I promise, it is all just a formality. Just tell me when, and I’ll turn the crown Princess into the Crown Princess couple.” 

“You really think it will be alright?”

“I’m the king,” said her father, taking a sip of his beer. “Haven’t you heard? What I say, goes.” 

***

Luke whistled. “Dang.”

“So, you approve?”

“Dude, I don’t think anyone wouldn’t approve.” Luke said, holding the ring up for a better look. The large diamond at the center, square cut and aquamarine blue, perfectly reflected the light, casting glittering refractions all over his fingers. It was surrounded by diamonds so old that they’d been cut before that technology existed. They were framed by pearls, all natural, all saltwater, all perfect, and the shining platinum band which held them all was fit for a princess. Percy hoped.

“Great,” Percy said, “because I need you to create a paper trail that makes it look like I got this ring legally.”

Luke raised an eyebrow, clearly suppressing a grin that Percy knew would only be one of approval. “Did you not?”

“The diamonds came from wrecks that I scavenged. I had to take Hazel with me to make sure I’d gotten the right ones. It's basically looting.” He’d spent the last three years collecting these pearls. It was grueling work, but it was worth it. It was so worth it. 

“Hazel didn’t do the actual jewelry work, did she?” Luke asked, concerned. 

Percy shook his head. She normally wasn’t super comfortable with that, what with her propensity for accidental curses, and Percy would never have made her do that if she didn’t want to. “No, she wouldn’t even call the stuff in the ocean, she'd point it out, and then I’d have to go through rotting wood and rusted metal to get them. Tyson made it for me. And sourced the platinum.” And also designed it for him, with a little help from his harpy girlfriend. Tyson had blushed when he told Percy about it. “But she’s a princess. Some magazine or newspaper–not to mention all of the Internet–is going to want details about where they came from, and I need to explain it without using words like ‘magic’ and ‘Poseidon.’”

Luke turned the ring over, inspecting the underside of the gems. “I thought you were going to tell Annabeth before your proposal.”

He nodded. “I am, in Athens. But I’m not planning on announcing it to the world.”

“I don’t know, that might be kind of funny.”

“I feel like they’d take away my medals if I tell them I can control my boat with my mind. And the ocean, too.” Percy said, “And I would always take you down with me in that situation.”

Luke let his grin out, savage and unrepentant. “Fair. So, you need a place for it to have come from. I can make it look above board. Any other requests?”

“Could you not make it a blood diamond thing? I would love not to imply that.”

“Just looting, then?” he asked, handing the ring back.

Percy made a face, even as he carefully placed it back inside the velvet box. “Look, looting from ships that sank centuries ago for a few gems that would otherwise be lost, so my princess girlfriend can have an engagement ring worthy of her, is reasonable, I think. Over a century of controlling diamond markets, and using it to exploit colonialist populations is not. Having said that, though… Please don’t say I looted anything.”

“I'll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” he sighed, with relief. And more than a little excitement. After months–years–of planning, it was almost time. He knew he wanted to marry her one normal Tuesday afternoon, as they sat together at Annabeth’s–their–kitchen table, laughing over something silly. Whenever he got cold feet, or felt like the royal life might be too much to handle, he cast his mind back to that beautiful, quiet moment, and reminded himself: no matter how weird and fucky it got, it was worth it. She was worth it all. 

“Anything for you cuz. And that princess.” He smiled, crooked and pleased. “Have you decided how you’re going to do it yet?”

“Not sure yet,” Percy admitted. “I’ve been a little preoccupied.”

“Your race?” 

“Oh, yeah, with that too.” 

Luke frowned. “That’s not what’s been preoccupying you?”

“I mean… it hasn’t… not been preoccupying me,” he said. “But… I’ve been distracted.” 

“With what?”

Percy sighed, sinking into the couch. “You said it. I have to tell her before I can propose to her.” 

Frowning with sympathy, Luke settled down next to him, crossing his arms. “You really think it's going to be a big deal?”

“Of course it's going to be a big deal. You think it won’t be a big deal?”

“No, just go up to her and say ‘the gods are real, like the greek gods, like the ones you learned about but weren't paying attention to.” 

“She likes mythology, she was probably paying attention.” 

“Well, it will be like when I explained things to your mom.” 

Percy snorted. “My mom was hired by Hermes. She knew about my dad. She knew all about everything. She didn’t need some nine year old loser giving her a Greek mythology tutorial.”

“Yeah, well this nine year old loser saved your life.” 

“Tell that to the snakes I strangled at age two.” 

Luke reached over and ruffled Percy’s hair. “Big three braggart.” 

“And proud of it.” 

It was weird being over here. He hadn’t stayed with Luke in New York for a year. Without meaning to, Annabeth’s apartment became home base. The doorman and housekeeper recognized him. He’d had to pack a bag to come over this weekend. But Luke had just short of begged him, saying that it was probably the last time they could do it. 

And frankly, Percy kind of hoped he was right.

“I wasn’t talking about the snakes,” Luke said. 

“No?”

“No, I was talking about our quest.”

Technically speaking, he and Luke had been on half a dozen little quests. But he could only be talking about one. “You did save me from Ladon,” said Percy, probably a little too nostalgic for a near-death experience. 

“I did,” Luke agreed, “on a quest you weren’t even supposed to be on.”

“Come on, you know you wanted me there.”

“Oh yeah, a ten year old hanger on was exactly what I wanted on my deadly quest.”

‘Stowaway’ might have been a more appropriate term, since Percy had hidden in the back seat of Luke’s car and only revealed himself once they had gotten past the George Washington Bridge. Luke, surprised, angry, and having missed the turn to detour North to the Tappan Zee bridge to take Percy back, begrudgingly decided that Percy could stay. Though he did make Percy call his mom and explain where he had gone.  

“What’s gotten you so nostalgic?” Percy asked. 

Pursing his lips, Luke was silent for a little while, determinedly staring up at the ceiling. “Can I be honest?” he said, eventually. 

“I don’t know, big ask for a son of Hermes.” He was expecting the throw pillow to the face, and he caught it.

“Asshole.”

“Yeah, but you love me anyway. So for real, what’s up?”

“I think it’s the whole Athens thing,” said Luke, quietly. 

“The Olympics?”

“No. It’s more the where than the what. We’re going to the motherland.”

Percy paused and considered him. “I think it’s more the fatherland, for us.”

“Be serious.”

“I can‘t. If I am serious, I have to think about it. And then I get freaked out.” 

Luke frowned at him. “What are you freaked out about?”

“Take your pick: the ancient sea, deadly monsters, Zeus being upset at me on the way, not getting gold, Annabeth realizing that she’s too good for a crazy moron like me. I can go on.”

But Luke was undeterred. “Hey–you can kill a lousy monster and control the lousy ocean. Zeus knows the Olympics are for him, and we’re gonna burn a sacrifice and everything, I already have the AirBNB with the fire pit and grill booked.” He paused, took a deep breath, and clapped Percy in the shoulder, but he didn’t move his hand when he was done. “You could win this race with your eyes closed and hands tied behind your back. But that isn’t what you want. And so, you’re going to put your whole heart into it. And also your body. And it will probably go great, but–”

“It didn’t last time.” 

Luke narrowed his eyes, and then used the hand resting on Percy’s shoulder, brought it up and cuffed the side of his head.

“Ow!” 

“Dude, you know the world is full of Olympians who lost at the last second. And settled for silver. Or bronze. You also know that you have the power to make it so that doesn’t happen to you. You chose not to use that power last time.”

Rubbing his head, Percy pouted. “You think I should have cheated.” 

“I think that, given that you only failed to win last time because of supernatural interference, it isn’t really cheating.”

“No?”

“No! Look,” he said, the fire in his eyes blazing with the same kind of righteous indignation he had at sixteen, but without the sickly poison of almost giving himself over to a Titan, “our parents fuck us over. It’s like, their whole thing. They fuck over our mothers, then they fuck over us. But at the very least, they try to make up for it. It isn’t like some stupid fantasy movie where we aren’t allowed to use our powers for ourselves, or let mortals catch on. Mortals don’t notice, and we get to use our powers to balance the scales.” 

Percy raised an eyebrow. “You really think that’s how it works?”

“Sure. What, do you think that a child of Athena is cheating on a test by being really smart?” 

“...Probably not.” 

“Well, it's basically the same thing.”

“So you want me to cheat.” 

Luke shook his head. “No. I want you to forgive yourself if something goes wrong, if another monster attacks. And you choose to intervene, like I know you will, and you choose not to bring your full powers to bear. If you choose not to go for gold, know it is a choice you’re making. And it's okay.” 

That… helped. Something in Percy’s chest unwound a little. “There's always next time, is that it?”

“Not at all,” Luke said with a grin, “because come Tartarus or high water, you’re marrying your princess when this is over.” 

And that brought everything crashing back. “But what if she’s not okay about the demigod stuff?”

“The whole point of monarchy is ‘my bloodline is super special.’ Of course she’ll be cool about it.” 

“And if she is cool with the demigod shit, but says no when I propose?”

Luke stared at him, dumbfounded. “Are you serious?” 

“What?”

“That might be the dumbest thing you’ve ever said in your life.”

“Hey!”

“She is obsessed with you. And in love with you. She has brought you to state dinners. You’ve waved at coronations. Of course she’ll say yes.” 

“Only the one coronation.” Percy felt the need to point out. 

Luke kicked him in the shin. He did not hold back.

#my fic #pjo fic #percabeth #pjo #princess sailor au #bangs pots and pans part two is live

[toomanyoneshots]

Dinner Date - Dean Forester X Reader

You sat upstairs in your bedroom, relaxing in a beanbag and rereading Jane Eyre. You were reading very intently, taking in every word and getting lost in them all, when you were suddenly violently snapped out of your imagination by the doorbell ringing downstairs. You tried to ignore it and concentrate on your book again, but were soon interrupted by your little sister yelling up the stairs: “(Y/N), it’s for you!”

You placed your bookmark in your book and got up, a little annoyed at the disturbance, huffing as you hurried downstairs. However, your scowl softened when you saw your boyfriend Dean at the door, a bouquet of roses in his hand.

“Happy first anniversary, (Y/N).” A smile crept onto your face as he held out the bouquet to you. You accepted it and looked down at the beautiful roses, then back up at the face of your loving boyfriend. You gazed into his eyes for a few seconds, your smile widening, before leaning up and kissing him.

“They’re so beautiful,” you said, pulling away.

“Just like you.” He laughed a little bit when he saw how flustered you were, and kissed your forehead. “Come with me, I have something I want to show you.” You looked back at your sister, who seemed to be cheering you on, before taking Dean by the hand and letting him lead you out to his car. He opened the passenger door for you, kissing your hand as you got in before closing the door for you. He got in the other side and started the engine, driving through the familiar, darkened streets of Stars Hollow, Connecticut until he came to a stop right in front of the park, where he stopped the car and got out. He came over to your side of the car, opening the door for you and giving you a big smile as you stepped out.

“Why did you bring me here?” You questioned, closing the door behind you.

“I set up a little surprise for you,” he answered. “Close your eyes and I’ll lead you there.” You did as he said, and you soon felt him wrap his strong arm around your back and start walking, taking small steps to make sure you didn’t fall over anything. After what felt like an eternity, he came to a stop.

“Okay, open your eyes now.” After blinking a few times, your eyes focused on a lovely sight. In front of you, on the ground was a small picnic blanket, with a small scented candle in each corner. In the middle was a small wicker basket, which gave off a wonderful scent that was wafting right into your nose. You and Dean sat down on opposite sides of the blanket and get opened up the basket, taking out two styrofoam cartons and two water bottles. He handed one of each to you and you opened the carton up to see some fettuccine alfredo, a slice of garlic bread, and a bit of cheesecake, accompanied by some plastic utensils.

“Wait, isn’t this that new Italian place that just opened up?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied. “I knew you’d been wanting to try it out.”

“But that place… the prices… how did you afford it all?”

“I put in some extra shifts at the supermarket.”

“You really didn’t have to…”

“Anything for my girlfriend,” he said, leaning across and kissing you gently. “Now dig in.” You opened the plastic utensils and practically unhinged your jaw, shovelling in spaghetti by the mouthful, sometimes punctuated with a bite of garlic bread or a sip of water. By the time Dean had finished about half of his dinner, you were slurping up your final few noodles and collapsing onto the ground next to the blanket, huffing and puffing from eating so quickly. He tried to eat a little faster and when he was finished, lay down on the ground next to you, the two of you looking up at the stars together. He put his arm around you and pulled you closer to him, kissing your forehead. You looked back at him and took the warmth of the moment in. Your eyes and his met and you saw a little twinkle in his eyes as a smile spread across his face, which quickly spread to your own. You both leant in and your lips met, and the two of you shared a tender kiss that was full of bliss. All time melted away in that moment, and you kissed him for what could’ve been two seconds or two hours, before you both pulled away and gazed in each others eyes, breathing deeply. You stayed still in that moment for a while, sharing a comfortable silence before you spoke.

“You know, your breath smells like garlic right now.”

He kissed you.

“So does yours.!”

#dean #dean x reader #dean forester #dean forester x reader #dinner date #reader insert #male reader #female reader #self insert #gilmore girls #fanfic #fanfiction #jared padalecki #stars hollow #spaghetti #garlic bread #bread #mmm I love bread #I also love Dean #cute #adorable #romantic #tooth rotting fluff #fluff #I don't know if this qualifies as tooth rotting

[fluxxdog]

The party has to get into the Cave of Wonders™ but it has been blocked by a mad wizard. It’s a giant bowl of noodles and its immovable unless you eat all the noodles. No problem, says the barbarian or halfling (bonus for both), I’ll chow down! Only to find the noodles are cooked but dry, no sauce or broth to speak of.

This is how you know the mad wizard is crazy, not angry.

After some consultation with another mage (not a SAUCEror, too much pun), they come up with an idea. They have a plan and ask the players sauce or broth.

If the players choose sauce, have them choose between tomatoes (for marinara) or cream (for Alfredo) for the base.

If the players choose broth, have them choose fish or beef.

Either way, he consults a list he’s making and he needs one item to make all this work: a crystal that can be found in a nearby <insert location here>. If the players ask if he can just dispel it, have the mage say that would just be unprofessional.

The players go to find this crystal, fight some beasties or what have you, and get the crystal. When they return, they find a giant pot of bubbling sauce/broth.

The crystal, however, is not for the pot. It’s to summon a creature to carry the pot. The pot has to keep the contents piping hot and the mage needed something strong and fire immune to carry it. It’s too heavy for a cart. They summon the creature whose only job is to carry the pot and dump it on the noodles.

Once there, the summon dumps the pot in the bowl. Before the barbarian or halfling can dive in (possibly literally), the summon pulls out a fork or chopsticks (whatever), picks up the bowl, and starts eating.

The bowl could be moved?! Well, yes, thanks to the pot contents. It not only broke the enchantment that made it immovable, but the summon is being paid with a free meal. It’ll sit next to the entrance to the Cave of Wonders™ and start eating. Occasionally it’ll make comments like, “Not as good as my mom’s, but it’s still pretty good!”, “Kinda wish I had some breadsticks/crackers to go with this.” and other such off hand comments.

The party is now free to enter.

Once the summon finishes eating (at least one hour of eating), he disappears.

OR...

“As you near the exit to the Cave of Wonders™, you hear a wet *slorping* kind of sound.” A successful attempt to identify to sound reveals its the sound of slurping noodles. The summon will still be there, eating. “Turns out the bowl is bottomless. So is my stomach!”

#d&d idea #silly #thematic

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

Ok ok

Pussy Drunk Nanami!!!

Hehe, sometimes he's forced to work overtime, it can be 2 or 3 hours more but he still feels abstinence from you, and at some point his thoughts shift from lying on the couch and cuddling to eat you until you don't be able to speak.

Imagine Nanami arriving home a few hours late and apologizing to you, he sees you and automatically remembers the thoughts from earlier, then he'll almost beg you to let him open your chubby lips and drain everything possible from you.  The initial intention was to be pleasurable for you, and of course it was, but when you realize that Nanami's eyes are unfocused and her licks are more sloppy than usual you know the man is lost in his own little world, where there is only you and he and his only function is to live between your thighs giving pleasure to the goddess you are🥺

(ofc chubby reader!!)

Oh LORD. Puttin me back on my chubby chaser Nanami bullshit i see sksksksk thank you for the ask bby, I love Nanami x chubby fem reader and I will gladly provide content for this subject 😌💕

CW: chubby fem reader, smut, oral (female receiving), Nanami being a simp for his chubby darling, not beta read bc why would i ever do that sksksks

Omgggggg pussy drunk Nanami makes me WEAK!!!!

AND PUSSY DRUNK NANAMI WITH HIS CHUBBY DARLING IS HNNNNNNNGGGGGG EVEN BETTER

Poor Nanami tho, having to stay late at work

Obviously it sucks that he has to work in general, but it's even worse that he can't come straight home to his lil pretty chubby baby :(

He was gonna make this yummy alfredo with chicken and broccoli and he was gonna make garlic bread to dip in the sauce and he had the perfect wine picked out and EVERYTHING 😔

YES HE CAN STILL MAKE IT TOMORROW BUT IT'S THE PRINCIPLE OF THE THING!!!

And yes he texted you to warn you he would be late and yes you were fine and said that you could just order takeout tonight

But he's still upset about the whole thing bc he's away from you 🥺

He's rushing through his work so he can get to you, but not so much that he fucks anything up yk?

At some point his mind wanders and he starts imagining what could've happened that night if he hadn't been working

He would've gone home and changed into something casual before he started dinner (probs a tshirt and sweats)

He would insist on making it himself, but he knows you'd try to help regardless (which he always thought was absolutely adorable) so he would let you

The two of you would enjoy dinner together before going to the couch, watching a movie or one of your favorite shows

Kento would try to keep his hands to himself, but that was much easier said than done when you wore the tiniest pajamas around the apartment

His hands would wander and squeeze your plump flesh, fingers digging into your thick thighs and spreading them open

You would squirm and whine about how he didnt have to eat you out, but how could he resist your sopping wet, chubby pussy?

He'd pry your plump lips apart and dive in, slurping up every drop of your essence before he focused on your clit, sucking the precious pearl and making you moan

He always loved eating you out: your taste, your expressions, the cute little whimpers you made when the two of you made eye contact and you try to hide your flustered expression—

Aaaaaaaaand now he's hard at work 🙃 it's hard out here for a bitch ✌😔

He struggles the rest of his day, but he eventually finishes his dumbass paperwork and heads home to his baby 💕

He's so tired that he's fully prepared to eat, bathe, and go to bed with his darling

He walks into the apartment, calling out to you and apologizing as he takes off his shoes

He's looking forward to the food you ordered, but his mind goes blank when he walks into the living room and sees you lounging on the couch

You're draped over the couch in an oversized t-shirt and booty shorts (who can blame you? It's way too hot this evening) and Nanami loses it

He drops his jacket to the floor, loosening his tie as he strides towards the couch

He's on you before you can properly greet him, hands already roaming over your supple flesh, squeezing every inch he can get his hands on as he kisses you

He's tugging off your shorts, urging you onto your back as he kneels down before you

"Just a taste, just a taste" he repeats breathlessly as he spreads your thighs, pulling apart those cute chubby pussy lips before he licks your precious cunt 🥺

He's missed you so so much, your soft thighs squeezing around his head, cutting off his air supply

AND YOUR PUSSY, GOOD GOD!!!

He loves how you taste, how your slick pools on his tongue and slides down his throat

You're so warm and wet and sweet and he just wants to drink you up like a bottle of cabernet sauvignon

You cum in a matter of minutes, spasming against him, but he's nowhere near done

He keeps going, sucking your clit until it hurts, practically making you cry as he makes you cum over and over again

You don't know how long it's been, but you've cum at least four times and Nanami's not letting up

You look down between your legs, prepared to convince him to stop so you can take care of him too, but he's too far gone

His face is flushed, eyes cloudy as he focuses on nothing, his tongue rolling over your cunt languidly

It's not about your pleasure anymore, it's about Ken's desires and he just wants to savor every ounce of your sweet fluids

You wanna make him cum too, but he just holds you tighter when you suggest him stopping, so you leave him be

He eats your cunt for at least an hour, only stopping when his muscles grow sore and he physically can't keep going he wants to tho, he really really wants to, god damn his human limits

He apologizes later for losing control and going overboard, but you reassure him that you're fine and you're just glad the both of you could enjoy yourselves :)

Tbh you are very exhausted from the entire encounter but you love your hard-working man so it's the least you could do

You do notice that he doesn't promise not to do it again, like he does with other things, so you'll have to be careful around him the next time he comes home after a long work day

#ask #nanami kento #smut #chubby fem reader #sorry this took so long sksksk #work is kicking my ass #but i hope you enjoy :) #☀️ fics #☀️ asks

[clonememesfrikyeah]

I made chicken Alfredo today for my moms birthday so now I’m gonna do how I think the 501st would eat chicken Alfredo.

Rex: is eating like a gentleman and enjoy his meal.

Kix: plays food critic and expresses what he likes and dislikes about the dish.

Fives: accidentally ends up choking on a whole noodle because he’s eating it so fast he forgets to chew.

Echo: eats all the broccoli first, then eats the rest of it.

Jesse: cuts the noodles up into smaller pieces then struggles to get the noodles on his fork.

Tup: makes sure he has equal amounts of everything on his fork to get all the flavors at once.

Dogma: separates everything into piles and eats it all separately.

Hardcase: slurps his noodles without chewing, will end up devouring the whole pan.

#tag yourself I’m Jesse #my brother is hardcase because I once saw that boy drink an entire pot of box Mack and cheese like it was a liquid #he is a menace #captain rex #arc trooper fives #arc trooper echo #arc trooper Jesse #tup #dogma #Hardcase #fives #echo #Jesse #clone trooper #my post #clone medic kix #kix #the 501st #the clone wars #Star Wars #clone trooper headcanons

[luminnara]

It’s Been A Long, Long Time | ch 4

Summary:  When HYDRA had their prized asset, the Winter Soldier, they did something no one ever thought was possible: they gave super soldier serum to an omega. With the sole purpose of tending to him during his ruts, she spends decades living in HYDRA facilities, denied her humanity and her life. Now, years later, Bucky Barnes has his mind and his own life back...and the last thing he ever expects is to see a familiar omega again. Bucky/OC, a little angsty but mostly smutty/fluffy/romantic!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Taglist:  @kyrah-williams @oceanmermaidwitch @shawnie--jo @super-cape @ferxaniti @namjoonwatcheshentai @fandomsstolemylife00 @youngblood199456 @nightlygiggless @darlingely

Amoretta swam in and out of sleep. Whenever she surfaced, she saw bright lights and strange faces, and, assuming that she was in a HYDRA lab, she decided it was better if she just kept on dreaming. After a while, though, she couldn’t manage it anymore, and she finally woke up enough to actually take in her surroundings.

She was in a hospital bed, and...a gown? She couldn’t remember the last time she had been given clothing. When she tried to move, she found that her arms ached, and she had an IV sticking out of her. Okay, so wherever she was, they were trying to take care of her. Maybe. That seemed like a good sign. 

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” a man’s voice said. “How’re you feeling?”

A figure came into view, blurry at first, and as he got closer she was able to get him in focus. Amoretta immediately stiffened, feeling threatened by this stranger, but as the scent of omega wafted in, she relaxed slightly. She couldn’t smell any alphas nearby, and that was good. 

Two good signs so far. 

“Wh-who are you?” She asked, her voice wobbly and hoarse. Her throat was so sore that talking was painful. 

“My name is Dr. Bruce Banner.” The man said, reaching towards a nearby table and grabbing a water bottle off of it. “I’m with the Avengers.”

Amoretta frowned. “The...who?”

He came near her slowly, twisting the cap off the bottle and offering it to her. “You’ve probably got a lot of questions. Mind if I ask a couple, though?”

She gave a little shrug as she raised the bottle to her lips. It felt strange to hold, the water tasting...different from what she was used to.

“Can you tell me your name?”

She thought for a moment, brows knitting together. “Subject 1096.”

It was Bruce’s turn to frown. “Did you ever have a...different name?”

After a moment, she nodded, trying to remember. It felt like it was on the tip of her tongue, just out of reach. Had it really been so long since she had gotten to say it?

“We can come back to that one.” Bruce said gently. “Do you know what year it is?”

She thought for a moment. “19...1986.”

The doctor pulled off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose and mumbling something along the lines of “Christ, not another one…”

She got the feeling that she was off by a few years. 

“Well, Ten...is it alright if I call you that?”

She shrugged.

“...alright. Ten, it seems like you were cryogenically frozen for a few decades.”

“...decades?”

He nodded. “Your body seems to have handled it well, though.”

“Did I puke?” She asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Not that I saw.” He chuckled. 

Well, that was a little surprising. She had a tendency to vomit after being wrenched out of unnaturally cold naps. “Where am I?”

“You’re in my lab, at Stark Tower.”

“What continent?”

“North America.”

She made a thoughtful noise. “What month is it?”

“June.”

“So Ursa Major is out?”

Bruce paused. “...well, it’s hard to see with all the light pollution in the city, but...yes, I suppose it should be…”

She let out a sigh. “I miss it.”

Her voice was already sounding tired again, and Bruce was quick to take the water bottle back before it slipped from her hand. 

“You should get some more rest, Ten.” He suggested. “We’ve got plenty of time to get you caught up when you’re feeling more energetic.”

“Mhm.” her eyes fluttered closed. “Doctor?”

“Yes?”

“What city am I in?”

“New York.” He said, looking down at her curiously. “Manhattan, more specifically. Why?”

She smiled a little. “I wanna see...Brooklyn…”

As she drifted off to sleep again, Bruce rubbed his face. Well, that certainly was oddly specific of her to say. It was a good sign that she seemed lucid, though. 

“Captain Rogers is outside, Dr. Banner.” FRIDAY’s AI voice said. 

Bruce met him at the door, making his way out as quietly as possible. Steve looked anxious, standing with his hands on his hips as he waited for news. He hadn’t gotten a chance to find Bucky yet, his friend either working out or sleeping, and all he had managed so far was a quick debriefing and a shower. 

“I ran down as soon as FRIDAY called,” he said. “How is she?”

“Sleeping again. Just missed her.” Bruce said wryly. “Walk with me, I’m starving.” 

Steve fell into step beside him, heading towards the elevators. “Did she say anything?”

“She did. She seemed a bit out of it...couldn’t remember her name, hasn’t been awake since 1986.” He hit the UP button and stood back. “Seemed very interested in constellations, though. And Brooklyn.”

Steve stared at him. “Brooklyn?”

“Told her she was in New York, and the last thing she said before she fell asleep was something about Brooklyn.” Bruce shrugged. “Really interesting thing was her blood tests, though.”

“Blood tests?” Steve asked, stepping into the elevator and waiting for Bruce to join him before the doors closed again. 

“Definitely an omega.” Banner said as they headed up several floors. “Her scent is so muted because they pumped her full of enough suppressants to kill a normal person. Pretty sure that’s why she’s so tired...her body is working overtime trying to process such a high dose. I think it was just pooling in her system while she was in cryo, not really going anywhere, so now her kidneys are doing everything they can to—“

“Banner.” Steve interrupted before he had to listen to an entire scientific explanation. 

“Right. Sorry.” The scientist cleared his throat. “There was something else that I found already. She’s, uh…well, at some point, she was given super soldier serum.” 

Steve froze. “HYDRA gave the serum...to an omega?”

“It’s confusing to me, too,” Bruce put his hands up in defeat. “Thanks to that, though, it’s hard to determine how old she is, or who she is, without her telling us. All I know is that she’s an unmarked omega super soldier with a hell of a dose of heat suppressants to work through.”

“Any idea when she’ll be up again?” Steve asked as the elevator dinged to signal their arrival. 

“Hard to say.” Bruce said, following the alpha out towards the shared kitchen near the common area. 

“I need to get to the bottom of this, Banner. FRIDAY, will you find Bucky? I need you to tell him—“

“Tell him what?” A voice asked. 

Steve smiled in relief. Bucky was there, sitting on the couch with a plate of Alfredo balanced in his metal hand, looking mildly curious about whatever his friend was talking about. 

“Oh, good,” Steve said, approaching him, Banner following behind. “You’re already here.”

“What is it, Stevie?” He asked, an eyebrow raised. 

“Well, as you know, I visited an abandoned HYDRA base today.” 

“I’m aware.”

“And I found...something.”

“...something. What kind of something?”

Steve suddenly wasn’t sure how to describe his discovery. “Well, it’s a...not an it, I mean, I found a…”

“Rogers here brought back an omega test subject.” Bruce interrupted. “She’s down in the lab right now sleeping off some nasty meds.”

Bucky’s posture hadn’t changed, despite how awkward and almost nervous Steve had gotten. He leaned back against the cushions, slurping down a few noodles while he regarded his friend with a mild expression. 

“Alright, so?” He asked. 

“So...I was wondering if you had any idea what HYDRA was doing experimenting on an omega.” Steve said, hands on his hips in a stance that was supposed to say I mean business, so listen to me.

Bucky wasn’t bothered by it. He was the biggest, toughest alpha in the tower, aside from the rare occasions Thor was roughing it down on Midgard with the rest of them. The others could puff up and posture all they wanted at him, but it never had any effect. He was always calm and cool, generally disinterested in their displays. He knew he was stronger, and he didn’t need to prove it, especially not when he didn’t have an omega to fight over. 

He shrugged. “I want exactly privy to all their secrets. I know they kept cells full of omegas around for a while.”

“What did they do with them?” Steve asked.

“Whatever they wanted?” Bucky shook his head. “I really don’t know. If they were experimenting on ‘em, that never concerned me.”

“You’ve gotta know something, Buck.” Steve sounded exasperated. 

“Why do you care so much?” He asked. 

“Because something isn’t adding up.” Steve growled. 

“They gave this omega enough heat suppressants to last a lifetime,” Bruce said. “Her system is all kinds of messed up.”

“Makes sense.” Bucky ate another mouthful. “HYDRA wouldn’t want to deal with hormones going crazy or any unplanned pups.”

Steve stared down at his friend. “Did they let you rut?”

“Stevie, at least take me out to dinner before you start asking about my sex life fifty years ago.” Bucky said dryly. 

Steve just raised an eyebrow.

“...yeah. They did. Think they couldn’t stop my ruts.” He relented. 

“So did they...you know…” Steve trailed off awkwardly. 

“Were you ever given omegas to get you through them?” Bruce asked, proving once again how much more capable of having this conversation he was than Steve. 

Bucky finally had to glance away from them in embarrassment. “Well…yeah. But I, uh...the Soldier, he would just kind of...well, they didn’t really last long, if you uh. Catch my drift.”

Steve paled. 

Bruce gulped. 

“...what? Look, I’m better now, I’m way past that. Besides, I never meant to hurt anyone, I wasn’t myself—“

“This omega is a super soldier.” Bruce said quietly.

Bucky’s face dropped, a flicker of something passing over his face. “...what?”

—

“Finally,” Bruce sighed happily, inhaling the smell of leftover pizza. 

“Bucky, does the number 1096 mean anything to you?” Steve asked. He was sitting in a chair across from his friend, Bruce sitting at the kitchen island while he ate his dinner. 

Bucky shook his head. “Don’t remember any numbers like that. They mostly just called ‘em all omega.”

He was trying to seem cool and collected, but his scent had shifted slightly. Steve could catch just the slightest hint of distress in it, and as he did so, he narrowed his eyes. He may have been separated from Bucky for almost 80 years, but he was still his best friend, and he could tell when he was hiding something. 

“Why would they give the serum to an omega?” Steve asked. 

“Branching out?” Bucky shook his head. “Why do they do anything? They’re HYDRA. They can do whatever they want.”

“So you don’t remember anything about an omega super soldier?”

“I don’t know.” Bucky sniffed defensively. 

“Buck, it’s okay if you do.” Steve growled. “We’re not going to judge you for anything you did. We just want to help her and figure out who she is—“

“Well I don’t know,” Bucky snapped, big fangs bared in a warning. 

Steve responded with a low growl. 

“There’s a lot I don’t remember, or did you forget how many times they wiped my memory?” 

“Seems like you’re hiding something, Buck, and I wanna know what it is.”

“Why do you care? You should just drop it,” Bucky snarled. 

Steve regarded him carefully. Oh yeah. He was definitely hiding something. 

“Hey, hey,” Bruce interrupted from the kitchen, intent on stopping their fight before it could start. “Relax, fellas. Don’t make me get the big guy out to shut you both up.”

Steve backed down. The threat of having the Hulk going after him was enough. Bucky didn’t seem to share the sentiment, though, his lips still pulled back in a blatant display of aggression. It was the first time in a while that Steve had seen him acting so defensively about something, and it was concerning, to say the least. 

“Buck,” he said, voice low with warning. “Are you hiding something?”

Bucky’s nostrils flared angrily and the insinuation that he was keeping secrets, but he managed to reign himself back in, stifling another growl with a loud sigh. 

“I dunno, Steve.” He admitted. “There’s...a lot I don’t remember. If I’m bein’ honest with you, I’m not even sure why I’m feelin’ so worked up about this.”

Steve nodded. It was a relief to hear that Bucky wasn’t acting this way entirely on purpose, at least. 

“You feel okay?” Steve asked. “Not rutting soon, are you?”

“I’m fine, Steve.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Bucky snorted. After a moment of silence, he spoke up again. “Is the omega, uh...is she okay?”

“Physically, she doesn’t seem to be too worse for wear,” Bruce said from the kitchen. “The only abnormalities I found in our preliminary blood tests were evidence of the suppressants and the serum. Other than being exhausted and needing to adjust to consciousness again after decades of cryo, she’s fine.”

“Good.” Bucky said, a little too quickly. “I mean...that’s good.”

“She should be awake again by tomorrow. Hopefully, she’ll be up for a longer chat then.” 

“You comfortable talking with her?” Steve asked, looking at Bucky. “It might be good for her to see someone else who used to be connected to HYDRA. Might help her ease into everything.”

Bucky gave a nod, already distracted by thoughts of this omega. Was it possible that the girl he saw in his dreams was real? It was hard for him to know what had actually happened to him and what he had imagined, what with HYDRA wiping his memory whenever they felt like it. Ever since he had gained his mental freedom, though, he had been plagued with nightmares, his sleep always filled with the faces of people he had killed. 

As time went on, they were getting better, but they never really stopped. He just...didn’t always have to deal with the worst ones. Sometimes, he even got to have dreams that were...nice. Sometimes, he dreamt of a familiar scent, one he couldn’t really place and that he could never remember when he woke up. Sometimes, he dreamt of an omega, with long, dark hair, and the prettiest eyes he could ever imagine. He always saw her in flashes, a smile here, a sigh there, and with no idea as to who she was or where she came from, he had chalked it up to his mind trying to give him some relief from the nightmares. It had to be wishful thinking, and nothing more. 

Unless it wasn’t. 

He spent a while chatting with Steve and Bruce before retreating to his apartment. With Tony and Pepper gone for the night, spending it in some fancy hotel so that Stark could give a talk at some expo, and most of the others resting after missions, the tower was quiet. It left Bucky too much time to wander and think, and before he knew it, he was making a detour down to Banner’s lab. 

As soon as the elevator doors opened, he paused. What was he hoping to accomplish, exactly? He didn’t have the kind of clearance that Bruce did. He wouldn’t be able to sneak in, and even if he could, what would he do? Appearing at her bedside would just freak the poor omega out, and that wasn’t the kind of first impression he liked to leave these days. 

He shook his head, pressing the button for his floor and leaning back against the elevator wall. He needed to be patient. Tomorrow, when she woke up, he would be able to see her for himself and decide if his weird dreams had any truth to them. 

Not that he was getting his hopes up. He shouldn’t, after all. He would just set himself up for disappointment. 

Just before the elevator doors slid shut, though, the tiniest, faintest hint of a scent wafted in, and Bucky’s eyes widened. He knew it. He knew that scent, or at least...he used to know it. Somewhere, in a part of his mind that he tried to forget about, he had memories of a peaceful, starry night sky, a hint of pine, and a touch of cinnamon. 

Then, the doors closed, and it was gone again, leaving him confused as the elevator rushed upwards.

#alpha bucky barnes #alpha bucky #omegaverse #abo #it's been a long long time #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #winter solider x you #winter soldier smut #winter soldier x reader #avengers x reader #avengers x oc

[nitannichionne]

Superman: The Rise of Isis (Henry Cavill Superman Fanfiction), Chapter 12: Something to Tell the Class

Chapter 12: Something to Tell the Class (Aquaman POV)

AQUAMAN POV

"Let me in!" I roared at the Justice League entrance. "NOW!"

The cave door slid open and I saw the monitors going, as usual. He's the only person I know who doesn't game and has that many screens. I wonder how well he would do if he could communicate by water like me or hear like Kal-El does. He wants to know, but if he did he really wouldn't want to know.

I strode in looking around. "Bruce." I saw Kal-El. "What's up, Kal-El." I looked over and saw Cyborg in his usual spot, surrounded by tech in that usual trance when he's working. "Hey."

"Hey." He nodded, not sparing me a glance.

"We need to talk!"

"What's--" Bruce glanced at me, did a double take, and frowned.

"Arthur?" Diana came in concerned. Evidently my voice carried. "What's going on?"

"Got the footage," Cyborg called. "Sending now."

"Have there been any--new developments--you care to share?" My eyes were burning through Kal-El at this point. He straightened, no longer looking at the monitors.

Bruce sat back in his chair. "We seem to have a new player--"

"No, you have an old player," I interjected, tapping my staff on the floor and not losing eye contact with Kal-El. "An old player with Kal-El's name on her lips."

Kal-El straightened. "She called for me?"

I looked at the monitor and stared at what I didn't see earlier that day. "I think the military has her." I looked at him. "She went to the water and cried for help in not one, but two--" I held up my fingers for emphasis. "Very nearly dead languages."

"Which two?" Bruce asked.

"Does it matter--" I gave a growl of frustration. "Ancient Egyptian and Hopi, I think."

Bruce typed and clicked on one screen. "I'm starting to think the Grand Canyon Temple of Isis holds more than artifacts."

"She was taken!" I hit my staff on the floor so hard I cracked it. "And she said your name." I stared at Kal-El.

"Oh my god." Diana's eyes widened with concern.

"Oh, and by the way," I felt my jaw clench. "Any idea where the military got Kryptonite?"

"Kryptonite?" Kal-El frowned deeper and glared at Bruce.

Diana wasn't happy to hear this. "Bruce?"

"Once we-humans-knew that Kryptonite could kill monsters people started scouting for it all over the world," Bruce muttered. "There's not much of it, but the United States has secured the most."

"The spear?"

"No, I still have it." Bruce saw Kal-El and I react to that. "It's safe and sound."

"They made it into rope," I informed and it was my turn to get looks. "She was bleeding, and they reeled her in like a fish caught on a line." I saw Kal-El wince. "So, before we go hiking and spelunking, how about we do a jail break?"

"Jail break?" Kal-El repeated.

"Not your scene, man," I told him. "The rest of us need to go. If we don't do something-something soon-she will be no more than a lab rat in no time. Call the kid, he could be of help. I got some ideas."

"You can do recon from here." Bruce offered, seeing Kal-El's distress.

"Way I see it, Bruce can get us in, and the kid can speed her out."

"Well, first, we need to know where she is," Kal said.

"I think I know."

We all turned to look at Bruce and he tapped a few keys.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding!" I shook my head.

"Alcatraz?" Kal-El shook his head in disbelief. "That's a--a--"

"Tourist attraction," Bruce finished. "By day, yes, but underground at night? There's stuff going on, boats going back and forth--"

"I'm surprised you don't own it," Diana shrugged, a glint of humor in her features.

"Who says I didn't try to get it?" Bruce said with clenched teeth.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Alcatraz was going to be demolished," Cyborg began in explanation. It was clear he was telling us what he saw on his screen. "The government offered it up for sale. Bruce was outbid at the last minute and the owner offered a partnership in profits."

"By who?"

Bruce took his time before he answered, "Lex Luthor."

"Hey!" Barry sped in, and found pizza in his usual spot. He started eating. "What did I miss?" When no answer came from any of us, he looked up. "Whoa, really, what did I miss?"

"We're going to break someone out of Alcatraz." I told him.

He turned like an animal who had been spotted, still chewing but his eyes full of alarm. "What?"

"Someone has been taken, Barry," Diana explained, leaning on the back of Bruce's chair. "We need to get in and out with someone."

"Let me get this straight," Barry said after swallowing. He slurped his drink and gulped again. "We are breaking into a prison-a world class prison turned tourist attraction?"

"Secret base underground." Bruce put in.

"Oh, underground secret base on an island hardly anyone got off of, and do it with a plus one." He was quiet, taking another slice of pizza.

"We need you for this one, Barry." Kal-El put in.

"I see," Barry munched thoughtfully, then his eyes widened. "Can I take a souvenir?"

"We'll find something," Diana said with a smile.

"And can I have chicken alfredo before I go?"

"I'm sure we can do that," Bruce rolled his eyes. "Jambalaya on the way back?"

"Oh, ah, jambalaya!" Barry's eyes lit. "I was goin' anyway, but wow--" He straightened. "I'm in."

I laughed at Barry, nodding. "Alright!"

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #clark kent #kal el #superman #superman fanfiction #justice league

[punsandfuturekingsmen]

Oh, you like creamy? Well then, tonights is a shrimp alfredo over linguine with some fresh baked garlic bread. Enjoy! (Sorry the description isn't fancier, very sleepy, going to bed now)

The more food he's brought, the more conflicted he feels. But he still takes it, the need to eat outweighing any opposing thoughts. His fingers have the dish before he can even think to protest, twinging a piece of shrimp and several noodles delicately around his fork.

This one is seafood too, with a creamy base that melts on his tongue in a delicately buttery and cheesy spread. The noodles are al dente, his favorite, where they still have a little chew to them, and the bouncy texture of the shrimp with the seafood flavor to it, is a pleasant counterbalance to the softness of the noodles. There was a bite of salt and the sharp tang of garlic and lemon in the sauce as well, which only added to the chorus of flavors that made the dish sing.

The sauce slurps where a noodle hung out of his mouth where it'd unwoven slightly from his fork, and it splattered a few drops of alfredo base on his nose, when the noodle overshot his mouth and the end landed on his upper lip.

He used a piece of the bread to wipe it off. The crust of the french bread breaks with a crunch under his teeth, before it gives way to a softer inside. This fluffy part is what's soaked in the butter until it's yellowed, dappled with fresh herbs like parsley and of course, garlic. The greenery helps with the scent and elevating the flavor profile, but nothing works harder than the garlic, baked with the bread until it's soft and melts in the mouth almost like butter, with larger pieces offering a little bit of crunch that adds a lovely variance in the texture. He wipes the crumbs from his face with his shirt. "Fuck....that's.....it's really good."

The garlic is probably really pungent. That's why he's misty-eyed.

#answering things #ic #arthur speaks #ectoimp icon #M!A: All You Can Eat #phantomslair #cw food #you're fine buddy!! #i'm just getting practice describing flavor

[gainingfiction]

Lifeguard Off Duty: Chapter 9

(Read Chapter 8 by gainerstories here)

Rather than risk ending up like a sitcom character with two dates to the dance, Bradley decided to roll a few of plans together into the ultimate evening of celebration. Jeremy and the boys from Muffin Tops would stop by his work happy hour at Michaela’s on Friday night. Peter would join him there, and they’d move onto their romantic dinner date afterwards: it had taken a little rearranging, but he’d managed to line everything up into a perfect stretch of hedonism.

After finishing up with the gym’s seated press on Thursday evening, Bradley decided to see if his workouts had done anything for his weight. He stepped off the scales, after clocking in at an eye-popping 324 pounds: a full 11 pounds heavier than he had been just a couple of weeks before. Had he been doing that much celebrating? 

“Hey, man. Can’t wait for tomorrow,” came Jeremy’s voice from behind him.

“Hey, me neither,” Bradley said, turning to greet his gym buddy. He joked, “You trying to see the number?”

“Don’t need to. I can tell by your outfit that it’s still going up,” Jeremy laughed as he gave Bradley’s belly a gentle pat right around his exposed navel. It was Jeremy’s favourite running joke—not that Bradley ever ran anymore.

“Very funny,” Bradley grinned, as he turned to head out for the evening. After half an hour at 24 Hour Fitness, he couldn’t wait to eat whatever lavish spread Peter had come up with that day.

The next morning, Bradley had a spring in his very heavy step. He whistled as he soaped up the rolls and bulges of his colossal body in the shower, and hummed as he ran his towel along the sloping curves of his huge rear. He inhaled sharply to get his work shirt closed, and then inhaled the massive breakfast feast that Peter had cooked up for him: bacon, sausages, hash browns, syrupy pancakes, and buttery toast. Shirt buttons spreading apart as they fought to restrain his gut, Bradley heaved himself into his car and made his way to Muffin Tops.

After loading up on pastries for the day, Bradley headed to work. He greeted his friends in the recreation department before making his way to his own corner of city hall. As usual, Malcolm appeared with a huge plate of home cooking, followed shortly by Diane and Eric who wanted confirmation that Bradley wasn’t going to bail on drinks. By the time he left the office, he had eaten every crumb that had been put in front of him, but his mind was already wandering to the nachos and fries at Michaela’s.

The place was just starting to get lively when Bradley arrived. He plodded over to Eric and Wanda, who were standing by the bar. As soon as he arrived, Wanda placed a frothy mug of beer in his hand. She added, “Even if you work in another department now, I’m still the boss.”

“Of course,” Bradley said, feeling sincere. Wanda had done so much for him. He chatted with her for a while, digging in when a large platter of nachos appeared beside him. And when Diane appeared with an overloaded plate of fries, he allowed himself to be stolen away. He let his co-worker grab a few pats of his monster gut as he polished off the snacks, before turning to Eric and his boyfriend.

The one-time twinks looked completely overstuffed as they stood side-by-side, splitting well over 300 pounds of excess relationship weight between them. They were still fairly fashionable, but Bradley could see that they shared his struggles with fitting into clothes: buttons strained and cotton rode up to expose their mutual overindulgence. Ordering another beer, he chatted with both of them, realizing that they were as charming and fun as Eric’s social media profiles made them seem.

While Bradley was talking to them, he watched Peter arrive and slip effortlessly into a conversation with Malcolm and Wanda. Bradley realized that they had probably been going to Peter’s coffee cart for longer than he had. He admired the way Peter’s athletic-fit blazer flattered his lithe build, contrasting it to the massive men in front of him and the equally massive man he had become. As he chatted with Peter and Blake, he felt a distinct appreciation for the tattooed hunk in his life.

Bradley was pleased to see that Jeremy had met Hayden and Diego. Excusing himself, he made his way over to the two mountains of lard and the muscle-bound jock. “How are three of my favourite people?” he asked, when he arrived. He stifled a belch, before taking a swig of beer.

“Ah, I love fat Bradley,” Diego said to Jeremy and Hayden, as he clapped his loyal customer on the back. He turned to Bradley. “You were never this relaxed when we worked at the beach! But that’s all water under the bridge.”

Bradley flushed. “I guess I needed to walk a mile in your shoes.”

“Or waddle,” Hayden said. “And maybe not a full mile.”

The guys all laughed in response. Bradley noticed that Peter had joined the group. Patting the lower part of Bradley’s back, he joked, “This guy doesn’t even walk to the fridge anymore, he gets me to grab his beers for him.”

“That sounds like the life,” Hayden said, as the group laughed. “Diego, we need someone to bring us beers.”

“That could be a job for Jeremy,” Bradley said, giving his gym buddy a wink. Jeremy had been throwing himself at the blubber-bound bakery owners practically since he arrived.

The group chatted, and the beer flowed. After a while, Diego and Bradley got to reminiscing about their time at Thick Sands beach. Diego pulled out his phone, showing off an old picture of the two complete with sunglasses, smiles, and perfect abs. Bradley could barely remember what it felt like to be that small, and yet he’d been the beach babe-in-residence for years. If he tried to climb the lifeguard tower at his current size, he’d probably wreck the wooden ladder.

The time at Michaela’s flew by, with Bradley helping himself to the beer and bar food as his friends from work and beyond dropped by to congratulate him and talk. After what felt like no time, but what had really been hours, Peter arrived to remind Bradley of their dinner reservation. Draining his fourth beer, Bradley settled his tab and said goodbye.

“I was just chatting with Christian, the head lifeguard that replaced you. Looks like Wanda offered him your old job. He really is following in your footsteps,” Peter said, as they made their way out of the bar.

Bradley turned and looked at Christian, who was chatting with Wanda and Eric. He reminded Bradley of himself. With a smile, Bradley said, “If Wanda gives him the desk next to Eric, that might be in more ways than one.”

Outside, the air was cool and fresh. Side by side, Peter and Bradley walked to the end of the next block, to the small bistro that had come highly recommended. It was simply decorated, with sleek wooden furniture and a few rustic touches. The couple followed the hostess to their seat, and had a chance to look over the menu.

After a few moments, their waiter arrived with water. He was tall and thin, with a forgettable face. “My name is Justin, I’ll be taking care of you guys this evening,” he said. Justin was obviously gay, and he shot judgemental looks in Bradley’s direction as he spoke. Then, he turned to Peter with a smile. “Can I interest you in any drinks?”

“Yes, we’ll share a bottle of the house red,” Peter said. His face was blank. When the waiter took the drink menu and retreated, Peter rolled his eyes and Bradley chuckled. Apparently some guys still tried to deny the allure of the dad bod.

The pair chatted as they continued to weigh menu options. After a little while, the waiter reappeared to pour the wine and take their orders. After Peter ordered the white fish for his main course, it was Bradley’s turn to order.

“I’ll start with the fettucine alfredo, and then—”

“The fettucine alfredo is a main course,” Justin interrupted.

“I know. I’m gonna have it as an appetizer. And then for my main I’ll have the surf and turf, with an extra baked potato on the side,” Bradley said. He closed his menu. “Medium for the steak.”

With a glare in Bradley’s direction, the server clicked his pen and disappeared as the guys attempted to say thanks.

The two relaxed, drinking freely and swapping opinions about happy hour and whether Diego and Hayden would take Jeremy home. Peter painted quite a picture of the thick throuple that they were destined to become, and Bradley complimented his insight. Conversation was easy, moving from Peter’s family in Korea to Bradley’s high school diving career. Bradley slurped back the pasta, before tearing into his steak and lobster with gusto. Buttery potato and fried veggies disappeared into his vast gut. He felt increasingly stuffed, but he plowed forward. As they talked and ate, they (especially Bradley) finished the wine.

When the time came for dessert, Bradley couldn’t pass up the chocolate cheesecake. Peter tasted a spoonful, leaving Bradley to stuff himself with the rest. When the dessert plate was empty, Bradley excused himself to go to the washroom.

After relieving himself at the urinal, he paused in front of the mirror. No wonder Justin’s eyes had boggled as Bradley walked to the washroom: there were gaping spaces between the buttons of his shirt, revealing swathes of fat. And his gut looked massively round after a full day of stuffing himself stupid. Stifling a belch, Bradley plodded back across the restaurant.

Bradley pulled back his chair and slumped into it, ready to call for the cheque and take his boyfriend home. Except, as his giant rump made contact with the seat, he could feel something shifting. And as his bulging ass settled into place, Bradley heard a whining creak. A moment later, after a violent snap, Bradley’s big butt was on the floor, and he was surrounded by pieces of broken chair. Looking down, he realized that the two buttons straining over the fattest part of his gut had chosen that moment to give up, flying off under the pressure of Bradley’s behemoth belly.

“Holy shit, babe, are you okay?” Peter was at Bradley’s side in a flash.

“Fine,” Bradley said, feeling dazed. He felt embarrassed that part of his massive, hairy gut had been exposed to the cool air of the restaurant, made all the more embarrassing by every set of eyes bearing down on him. Peter’s shredded muscles bulging from the exertion, he helped Bradley to his feet.

By the time Bradley was standing, the manager had appeared. He was a middle-aged man, no more than 5’5” and skinny as a rail. Bradley’s gigantic frame absolutely dwarfed him. “Oh, my God. Are you alright? We are so sorry, sir, truly. Your meal is on us, of course. And let me write a note, your next meal will be on us, too.”

With nothing injured but his pride, Bradley certainly wasn’t going to turn down that offer.

By the time they got home, the couple was already laughing it off. “I really never thought I’d do something like that,” Bradley said, as he undid his remaining shirt buttons.

Planting his hands on Bradley’s sides, Peter traced the expanse of his lover’s thick gut. “You were just too much man for those shitty chairs.”

“Well it’s a good thing you’re man enough to handle me,” Bradley said, clapping the underside of his belly and making it shake, despite the overwhelming fullness.

The two made their way to the bedroom, Peter caressing Bradley’s bulging love handles as they walked. “You know, the first time I went to the beach here, I fantasized about getting rescued by the hunky lifeguard?” Peter said. “If you still have your old uniform around, I could go for some role-play.”

“Sounds great,” Bradley said. He ran a hand along Peter’s hip. “You know what? I have a feeling we’ll be rescuing each other for a long time to come.”

#lifeguard off duty

[sugaabooga]

Chance | 3

Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader | Jimin x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, rich!Jin, rich!Jimin

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: PG-13, none

Synopsis: Seokjin had no problem of getting girls and also had no problem of getting rid of them. One girl after the next. So why was it that you - a middle-class citizen - was an exception? You - a middle-class citizen - made Seokjin question if he really did have it all. But one thing’s for sure. He didn’t have any of your chances.

“Eh?”

Jimin holds up a hand in response to your confused expression with a small smile.

“Came to check up on my heartbroken friend,” he states, shuffling into your apartment despite not receiving any permission.

You sigh as Jimin’s scent wafts past you and shut the door behind him.

“Jimin,” you start until he tuts.

“No no no,” Jimin turns around with a grin. Your eyes drift away from his grinning form and instead settle upon the bags he laid out on the table. “I bear gifts!”

Despite your scoff, you saunter over to your friend with a small smile. “Gifts?”

Jimin excitedly nods, reaching into the bag to take out some pasta from your favorite Italian restaurant.

Your pupils dilate at the magnificent sight. “Chicken Alfredo?”

Jimin rustles through the bag some more, bringing out his own plate of pasta and a slice of cheesecake.

“Cheesecake!?” you nearly scream, back straightening up in joy.

“Pfft,” Jimin breaks out in laughter. Nothing cures a broken heart like good food.

“Mmm,” you nod in satisfaction after a bite of the white cream pasta, licking at the corners of your mouth to get the remaining bits of sauce. Too busy diving into the food, you miss the way Jimin slowly chews on his own noodles with a sweet smile, eyes endearingly gazing at you. He slightly jolts when your eyes open and dart to meet his own, a slightly crazed grin taking over your face.

“Rhis irz sho good!”

The ends of Jimin’s eyes slightly crinkle. “Really?”

You nod, stuffing your mouth with some more pasta, almost in a hurry to finish.

You scrunch your nose, suppressing the urge to sniffle and trying to swallow away that lump in your throat that indicates you’re about to cry.

Jimin thoughtfully circles his fork in his pasta noodles, taking a big bite off his fork.

“You know what happened at work today?” Jimin asks with hopes of lifting up your emotions.

“Hm?”

“The project assistant manager, Karina asked me-” Jimin abruptly stops.

You clear your throat to try to rid of the tightening of your throat, unaware of Jimin’s brain trying to think of a way to somehow switch the topic away from the sudden confession he received after you went home.

“She uh. Asked me how to print her proposal,” Jimin agitatedly slurps his noodles.

Is that the best you can do Park?

Jimin doesn’t realize you aren’t listening.

“Oh really?” you choke out, rushing over to the dishwasher to grab a cup and pour yourself some water.

“Y-Yeah,” he nods, not noticing your reddening nose and instead focusing on stabbing his noodles. “Funny right? It’s been over four months since she started working. She doesn’t know how to print.”

You plop back down into your chair, staring at your plate as Jimin continues rambling.

Your sudden sniffle causes him to stop. 

“Hey. . . you should slow down,” Jimin frowns, the way you’re scarfing down your food making him feel uneasy. “You’re going to get indigestion.”

Just as he says that, you choke on a noodle. Hands hurriedly reach around for your water cup and you chug the whole thing down, a breath leaving your mouth.

That’s when Jimin notices your reddened nose and glossy eyes.

You’re crying.

You sniffle again, grabbing your fork and taking a slower bite of your pasta in fear of bursting into full on tears in front of him. This time, a choked sob escapes your throat.

Jimin lowers his plate and hesitantly reaches over.

You let out a cough, making him quickly retract his hand and grab his fork instead.

“Sorry,” you say pathetically. “It’s just so good. I haven’t eaten pasta since…”

Jimin’s lips turn into a grim line as he mentally face palms himself at your prolonged silence and deteriorating composure.

Of course.

Seokjin.

Jimin’s hand immediately reaches over to the Kleenex box and plucks out a few tissues, handing them to you.

You wordlessly take it, blowing out all the mucus that was stuffing your nose and preventing you from breathing. You don’t even have the mental capacity to feel embarrassed when a string of snot briefly connects your nose to the tissue.

//

“Ah, I’m hungry,” Seokjin slightly whines as he briefly looks out his side of the window in hopes of seeing a fancy, tasty looking cuisine that was probably going to charge more than a hundred dollars for a piece of meat. You suppress a smile at the older’s natural whiny tone that comes out whenever he’s hungry and debate whether or not you should suggest a place.

“I know a really good pasta place,” you suggest with slight hesitance. You weren’t sure if his rich taste buds would match.

Seokjin’s eyes widen. “Pasta?”

You nod, slightly more confident from the eager response. “The texture, the sauce, the service. MMwah,” you cough awkwardly, surprised at how that chef’s kiss just blurted out of your mouth. “It’s actually my childhood restaurant.”

“Then we have to go,” Seokjin states with a grin, silently cooing at your genuine giddiness. You tilt your head at him as Seokjin starts driving towards a curb, slowing down and turning on his car’s GPS.

Was he always this considerate?

“What’s the address?” Seokjin asks, head slightly turning to you when he feels your eyes shooting lasers at him from his peripherals.

Your heart nearly stops from his eyes meeting yours and avert your eyes to your bag. You fiddle around for your phone and quickly start punching in the name of the restaurant.

Seokjin’s lip tilts up to an amused smile, watching as you profusely blush, hands slightly shaking as you type in the address into his GPS.

Before you can catch him, he turns his head towards the window, letting an endearing smile take over his face.

“Kay,” you mumble, making Seokjin compose himself in a nanosecond and start driving off into the streets of Seoul.

You busy yourself nodding to the radio, stealing glances from time to time, admiring how handsome your boyfriend looks when he’s driving. As you turn to look out the window, taking precautions just in case you get caught, Seokjinglances over as well, uncomfortably rubbing at his chest at the foreign feeling of his heartbeat.

//

You grab another tissue, wiping away your tears. “S-Sorry.”

Jimin shakes his head, merely offering his silent company as comfort. This time, confidence surges through Jimin for him to gingerly place his hand on your shoulder, gently patting it.

“You okay?” he asks, just above a whisper, as you honk your nose one last time.

You offer a smile just as shaky as your breath and nod.

“Pasta must be that good, huh?” Jimin softly jokes, making you snort.

“Yup,” you state almost monotonously. “Moves me to tears.”

Jimin unconsciously ruffles your hair affectionately, making you slightly pause in your actions of crinkling up the used tissues.

Snap out of it, Y/N. You tell yourself. This wasn’t the first time Jimin was comforting you and offering emotional support. You knew Jimin was an affectionate person. You were currently emotionally vulnerable so of course any action would feel like too much.

But that’s when you feel his hand slightly drop to play with your hair then tuck it behind your ear.

This. . . was a first.

You don’t dare to look up, instead grabbing your fork once again to taste some of the cheesecake in an attempt to distract yourself from the onslaught of overthinking.

Jimin urgently removes his hand at your sudden movement, worrying if he had crossed the line of friendship and awkwardly coughs. He hadn’t meant to do that. Sure Jimin engulfed you in hugs, pinched your cheeks, patted your head, multiple times, but he had never done them with such intimacy.

Jimin feels an internal debate of whether he should say something. Maybe an apology? But that would make this whole situation too awkward.

It’s okay, he reassures himself. Friends of ten years can have this much affection right?

As if you could sense the shift in his attitude and feel it growing more and more tense, you clear your throat, turning to face him completely.

Jimin slightly looks up just to meet your guarded gaze, the area around your eyes still a bit pink from your crying.

“Thanks, Jimin,” you smile. “I bet there’s no one else in this world who has a friend bringing them cheesecake at 1 in the morning.”

“Of course!” Jimin forces a bright smile.

He can feel it.

“Yoongi-hyung wouldn’t even think about doing this,” he adds.

You drew the line.

You burst out in a laugh, eyes twinkling in the way they do whenever you find something to be funny and Jimin can’t help but to feel his heart skip a beat.

Oh boy. He was in too deep.

“For sure,” you giggle, pushing away the previous intimate gesture, deeming it to just be a comforting action at how naturally Jimin was acting.

Jimin would never think of me like that, you assure yourself.

“Yoongi would never,” you say poking at part of the cake. “Hm… I bet he’ll drop something off in front of my door or randomly burst in and throw takeout at me, saying it’s leftovers.”

Jimin laughs, nodding in agreement as he gulps down his water like a swig of beer. The past three years after he found out he was in love with you, Jimin had never even let a hint of his feelings show. But now, he felt like he was losing control. Losing control of his feelings and losing his hold on you.

You take another bite of cheesecake, oblivious to Jimin’s jumbled thoughts, and feel a lot lighter as you bring up memories of past hangouts with mutual friends.

That’s all Jimin will ever be, you remind yourself as your mouth rambles on.

Just a friend.

//

A/N: Hello there! I just checked the last time I uploaded a chapter and IT’S BEEN OVER A YEAR. WOW. Thank you BELOVED READER for being so patient and waiting for this new chapter! It’s a short one but there will be more to come so thank you thank you thank you for always supporting :)

#networkbangtan #btsboulangerie #btsbookclub #bangtanidx #bangtanhq #btswriterscollective #btsguild #mine #bts #seokjin x reader #jimin x reader #seokjin fanfic #jimin fanfic #wow a full year #i cant believe my unproductive lazy butt #i hope you enjoyed this chapter

[americanroyalty-phff]

Chapter 20 - A Romantic Night In

A few days have past since I went to the bar with Tim. Although the night had left me feeling weird, I shook the feeling off and tried to get back to normal.

I knew I should tell Harry about what was going on with Tim, but I couldn't help but feel scared.

I have been working from home, enjoying not having the many sets of eyes on me.

This was a big transition for me. I hope Harry knew that. I'm sure he did. But sometimes I jump into things full force and once I'm in deep, I get scared and want to jump ship.

---

I was landing in London for some time with Harry. I had even brought Peach with me on the flight so I didn't have to leave him with someone else for a long time. It felt like it had been forever since we had seen each other but it was probably at most 3 weeks time.

We were getting more and more attached to each other, more and more in love, and my heart has never been fuller. It sounds so corny, and I hate everything that's corny, but I felt like I was bursting at the seams with love. Just thinking that corny thought made me roll my eyes at myself. But I think I'm truly head over heels in love with Harry. And I think he is too.

I busted tail trying to get through the airport without people noticing me. I grabbed my bags as soon as it came around the conveyor belt and I went to the nearest exit to find the driver that Harry sends for me.

I was met with flashing lights, the sounds of cameras clicking, and people shouting my name.

I scurried over to where I saw the driver and he opened the door for me as soon as he saw me.

The driver put my bag in the trunk and he sped off, away from the crowd that was gaining more and more people.

I took a deep breath. Why does this keep happening? The only people who know I'm here are my parents, Emily, and Tim. I shook my head and glanced over to Peach who was laying in his carrier beside me. I'm glad that I brought him with me and I knew Harry and Peach would be happy to see each other again.

The car eventually pulled up to Kensington Palace and then Harry's cottage, nicknamed 'Nott Cott.' (For Nottingham Cottage)

Harry immediately came to open my car door, before the driver could have the chance to turn off the ignition.

"Hi, baby." he grinned.

"Hi, handsome."

He pulled me into a hug with me still sitting in the car.

I gave him a quick peck on the lips and stepped out of the dark vehicle.

I got the dog carrier out of the car and Harry took my suitcase and bag from the driver. We said our thank yous to the man and went inside.

As Harry closed the door behind me, I saw a new dog bed, a basket full of dog toys, and little dishes for Peach set up.

My heart melted. (Maybe I'm a little sensitive right now?) I turned to him and smiled.

"Thank you for all the stuff for Peach! You really didn't have to." I said as I bent down to take Peach out of his carrier. I snuggled him to my chest but he was much more interested in Harry and his new surroundings.

"I know I didn't. I wanted to. I want you to know that you and Peach have a home here. You've left stuff here. Toothbrush, shower products, a brush, lip balm. I figured the little guy should have some stuff too." He said and scratched Peach's little head.

I smiled and pulled him into a hug.

"Now you go shower, sleep, do whatever until dinner time! I have a surprise for you." Harry said and whisked me off to his bedroom.

"What's going on?" I turned around before I was fully in his room.

"Do you know what the word surprise means?" Harry said and took Peach from my arms.

"I actually do. But you know I don't really do surprises." I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Well I think this is a nice surprise so play along." Harry quipped.

"Harrrryyyyyy." I groaned.

"Beauuuuu, please." he pouted.

I give up.

"Alright. Is this a fancy dinner? Any dress code I should know about?" I asked.

"Casual but fancy."

"Okay, that sums up nothing but I'll see what I can pull together." I laughed.

"You just stay in here until I tell you that you can come out. I'll take care of Peach. Promise?" he asked.

I sighed.

"Promise."

We kissed and I shut the bedroom door behind me.

Since I figured it would be a little bit until dinner time, given that it was only 2:30 in the afternoon, I decided to take a long shower.

I washed my hair and body and decided it would probably be a good idea to shave. Because, well. You know. Alone Time.

After I finished my shower, I slathered on some lotion that I had brought with me and let my hair air dry.

I put my robe on and laid on the bed. I browsed my phone as I heard Harry talking to the dog.

I eventually got tired and drifted off to sleep.

(About fourish hours later.)

"Hey, Beau, babe." I heard Harry and felt him start to shake me awake.

"Hm?" I said, my eyes still closed.

"I have things ready if you want to get dressed and come eat with me." He said and bent over to kiss me on my head.

I slowly opened my eyes and looked up at him. He was hovering over me, wearing a button up and some nice slacks. He looked amazing. Even wearing cologne.

"Okay. I'll be out in a few." I said stretching and getting up.

He shut the door behind him as he left.

I picked up outfit I had planned on wearing and slipped it on.

After getting dressed, I ran a straightener through my hair brushed my teeth. I decided against makeup since Harry has told me on multiple occasions that he prefers me with no makeup. (Cliche, I know. But I'm going with it) I put a pair of small earrings on too.

I walked out of his room and was in total awe.

Harry's living areas had all been decorated with twinkly lights and he had set up candles, flowers, and wine at his table. He had a dinner all out together on the counter and soft music played in the background. Everything was picture perfect. Including the dog, who slept sweetly in his bed.

"What is all this?" I said as I slowly walked toward him.

I wrapped my arms around his stomach as he started to talk.

"Well, I just thought we were in need of a romantic night. And it's not really wise of us to go out so I figured I would just bring the restaurant in here. Plus some special little touches that mean something to us." he said.

"I love you, you know that?" I said and stared up at him. "No one has ever done anything this nice or romantic for me."

"I love you more. More than you'll know."

We kissed and hugged for a minute or two before he pulled away and went over to the counter to pick up two plates.

"Now, let's eat." he said and set the plates on the table.

He came and pulled my chair out for me then took his seat in front of me.

I looked closer at the flowers on the table, realizing they were my favorites.

"You got me peonies?" I smiled over to him.

"Of course." he said.

I grinned and shook my head. This man.

"So what's on the menu tonight, H?" I asked as I looked down at the plate sat before me.

"We're having some chicken alfredo because that's literally one of the only few things I know how to make without screwing up. And some fresh bread and a salad." He said as he focused on opening the wine bottle.

As he started to pour the wine into our glasses, I caught a glimpse of the label.

"Is that a tignanello?" I asked, cocking my head to the side to try and read it.

"Sure is." he said, capping the bottle. "You mentioned one day that it was your favorite. And I had never tried it and I think if I'm gonna be with you, I should educate myself on wines. You're very knowledgeable on the subject."

"I'm a wine connoisseur, what can I say?" I said as I swirled the drink in my glass.

Harry chuckled and lifted his glass.

"Cheers!" he said.

"Cheers!"

We clinked out glasses and both took a sip.

We dug into our meal when I started to notice the music that was playing.

It sounded familiar.

It took me a second before I recognized it.

"Is this Hamilton?" I asked, gesturing around us to the music.

"Oh, yeah it is. That's how we met and I thought it would be nice." he said and smiled.

I smiled back at him.

It really was the little things with Harry. He remembered the things that most people would forget.

I grabbed his hand over the table.

"You're amazing." I said.

---

After Harry and I had finished our dinner, we sat at the table and decided to finish the bottle of wine between ourselves.

"That was amazing." I said, leaning back in my chair.

"Thank you."

I leaned back up and leaned over the table to kiss him. Bringing my hand to cup his face, we started smiling into the kiss.

"We would be so annoying to hang out with." Harry said as we pulled away.

"Probably so. Hopelessly in love, lost in each other's eyes." I laughed.

We talked about Harry's polo match tomorrow, which is part of the reason I'm here.

After a while, we decided to call it a night and get ready for bed.

We cleaned up the table and kitchen together before we took Peach on his last walk of the day.

After throwing hoodies on, we left.

It was nice to walk around the grounds of Kensington Palace, knowing we most likely wouldn't be seen by paps and we could enjoy each other's company without that risk.

After a walk, which was entirely too long since I ended up carrying Peach back to the house, we got ready for bed.

I put on a pair of pajamas and washed my face. I went through my quick skincare routine and scraped my hair back into a bun.

When I was done, Harry and I climbed into his bed with cups of tea and snuggled up together to watch TV.

We settled on the show Love Island which I was slowly becoming addicted to. And even though Harry would moan and groan when I would put it on, his eyes were always glued to the TV and he made plenty of comments.

"I would never couple up with him." he said as he slurped from his cup.

"He's the best one!!" I exclaimed.

We bantered back and forth until we grew tired and fell asleep next to each other.

Until tomorrow, good night.

#american royalty phff #duchess of criminology #british royal family #greys anatomy #chapter 20 #Prince Harry #prince harry fanfiction #prince harry fanfic #prince harry x reader #prince harry x you #prince henry of wales #Jesse Williams #jesse williams x reader #jesse williams fanfiction #jesse williams x you #royal family fanfiction #the kennedys #Lily Collins #Meghan Markle #kate middleton #Prince William #phff #duke of sussex #duke and duchess of sussex #Duchess of Sussex #duke of cambridge #duchess of cambridge #duke and duchess of cambridge #princess diana #prince charles

[trashcanband4]

Training Sessions: Session 4

Session 1 Session 2 Session 3

Summery: You and Daryl have a quiet date night. Pairing: Daryl x Reader Warnings: Insinuation of sex Wordcount: 3,444

When you got to your house the first thing you did was take a relaxing hot shower and wash every bit of dirt, grime and walker blood down the drain. When you were finished with that you blow dried your hair, then tied it up into a simple style. Now that you felt like your clean self again you got dressed in a pair of frayed jean shorts and a black ribbed tank top. You had just put half a pack of fettuccini noodles on the boil when you heard a knock on the door. You were expecting Daryl, but when you opened the door Olivia’s face was reveled.  “Oh, hey, what’s up?” you asked a little confused as to why she was at your door.

“You forgot to bring the weapons back to the armory. I was just wondering if you were going to claim them as yours.” She said before she held up the clip board in her hands. “If so you need to sign here.” She pointed to where there was an x marked on the paper next to a line.

“Oh, yeah, they pretty much feel like mine now so I guess I’ll claim them.” You said as you took the board and signed. You tucked the pen into the top of the clip board then handed it back to her with a smile. “Pleasure doin’ business with you.”

The woman just smiled and took the clip board then walked off. You were about to close the door when you saw someone move down the street and you craned your neck to see Daryl headed your way. He wore a clean grey shirt and his vest and you couldn’t help but think how different he looked when he cleaned up and didn’t have his bow on his back.

You wanted to sat there and wait for him to get to your door, but you heard water boil out of the pot in the kitchen. So you left the living room door open to let him know he could come on it and headed to the kitchen and* started the timer. “Where you at?” Daryl called from the front door.

“Kitchen.” You called back and you could hear his footsteps as he walked into the kitchen. “Hope fettuccini Alfredo is okay.” You told him before you turned around to see him standing at the bar with a plastic container in his hand.

“Carol made me bring these, said it wasn’t polite to show up without something.” He said with a shrug as he slid the container across the bar to you.

You opened it to see that it was some of her cookies. “Awesome.” You said with a smile as you put the lid back on. “I’ve been wanting to try these ever since she got here. The housewife down the street raved about them for forever.”

“Alfredo sounds good.” He told you with a nod so you turned to the cabinet behind you and grabbed the can of sauce that you’d been hording for the past few months, out of the cabinet.

“I hope it doesn’t taste too bad without some kind of meat in it.” You turned back around to see him grabbing glasses out of the cabinet and fill them with ice. “All I have is water other than alcohol.” He didn’t ask what you wanted, but instead filled the glass’ with ice and water and set them at their places at the table.

“So, what are we watching tonight?” he asked as you waited for the noodles to get done.

“There’s a stack of movies on the coffee table if you want to choose.” You told him as the timer on the stove started beeping.

“What are you in the mood for?” he asked as he pulled out a bar stool and sat down, not going to pick a movie. He enjoyed the view of you backside where you stood at the stove with your back to him.

You pored the noodles into the strainer then into a bowl. “It really doesn’t matter to me.” You turned from the stove to set the bowl down on the bar. “I’ll watch whatever. I’m not picky when it comes to movies.”

“Alright.” He told you with a nod then things fell quiet between you as you finished up the simple meal. Once the table was set and food was dished out you and Daryl sat down and started eating in silence.

Although it was a comfortable silence, you felt that you and Daryl should be talking more given that you were having what you assumed to be a date. So finally you asked, “So, where did you grow up?” you asked before you took a bite and slurped the noodle into your mouth.

“Georgia.” He answered as he chewed. “What about you.”

“Mostly grew up in Texas, but then my foster family moved here.” You answered looking down at your plate as you thought about the family you’d lost. “My foster father’s job transferred him.”

“So you were in foster care?” he asked with a hint of curiosity in his voice.

“Yep, thankfully I had good foster parents. A lot of the kids that I knew weren’t as lucky as my foster brother and me.” You answered then took a bite.

“Where’s your brother?” Daryl asked as he finished off his dinner.

“He passed before the turn. Kidney cancer.” You answered and Daryl nodded. “What about you? You have any brothers or sisters, mom, dad?” you asked and Daryl grimaced.

“Mom died in a house fire when I was a kid. Dad got taken in the beginning and my brother, Merle, got killed by a duchebag that called himself the governor about a year after.” Daryl replied.

You felt like the two of you were bonding over the fact that you had no biological family left. In an attempt to pick up the mood you changed the subject. “So what did you used to do for a living?”

“Nothing.” Daryl answered with a shrug.

“Really? Nothing?” you asked.

“I was a nobody. I just hung around with my brother getting into trouble.” He answered and you decided not to push it further. “What did you do?” he asked turning things back to you.

“Are you sure you want to know?” you asked with a hint of mischief in your tone as you got up from the table.

“Mmhmm.” He hummed as he grabbed his plate and followed you to the sink where you both placed your plats.

“Would you believe me if I told you I was a stripper?” you asked as you turned around and leaned against the cabinet.

Daryl stared you in the eyes for a full thirty seconds before he shook his head. “No.”

You just smirked and continued to hold eye contact. “I that your final answer?” you asked, hoping to throw him off.

“There’s no way.” He said sounding like he was starting to doubt his instincts. “You’re too…quiet.”

“But don’t they always say that it’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for?” you asked as you walked around him, breaking eye contact.

“Your messing with me.” He said, following you into the living room.

“Am I?” you asked turning around to walk backwards for a few steps. “What do you think I did?” you asked turning around, knowing that the coffee table would be behind you.

“Librarian?” he asked and you shook your head no. He looked around the room as if he could find a clue. “You’re a nail tech.” he guessed and you smiled.

“How you figure?” you asked and he nodded to your nails.

“Your nails are healthy and there’re chips of paint left behind on ‘em. There’s also five different bottles of nail polish sitting around in this room.” You felt your jaw slack a little. “I’ve also noticed the nail powder and monomer on the bookshelf.”

“Are you sure you weren’t a private detective before?” you asked and Daryl laughed and shook his head. “Well you should’ve been.” You sat down on the couch “Because you’re right” and slid the stack of movies you had pre-picked over to Daryl. “Pick.”

He sat down next to you and started picking through the movies. Eventually Daryl slid two movies toward you. “You pick.”

You let you eyes travel between the cases of Legion and Paranormal activity. “So you like scary?” you asked and Daryl just shrugged clearly indifferent. You thought the decision through more than you probably should have. On one hand Legion was a good movie, but paranormal activity had good jump scares and it had been a long time since you had watched it. So deciding that you needed and excuse to get close to Daryl you picked up Paranormal Activity and popped it into the dvd player.

After fast forwarding through the previews to get to the menu you pressed the play button and sat down on the couch next to Daryl. Thirty minutes into the movie you realized that the lights were still on in the living room. “Is it okay with you if I turn the lights off?” you asked and Daryl motioned you to go ahead. So, feeling nervous all of a sudden you quickly stood up and grabbed the pull chain of the lights and turned them off.  You were sitting back down when all of a sudden Daryl’s arm looped around your waist and pulled you into him.

A little shocked you looked up at him with wide eyes. “This okay?” he asked and you felt your lips pull up into a small smile as you nodded and pulled your feet up onto the couch, tucking yourself into his side.

Now, you found yourself no longer paying attention to the movie. Instead you were lost in the feel of Daryl. How his hand that lightly held your side would gently grip your hip when a jump scare got him, his heart beat against your hand that you rested on his chest and how every once in a while you could feel him look down at you. Eventually when you didn’t look up at him he quietly asked, “You awake?”

You looked up at him and smiled a little. “I’m awake.” After you answered the credits and accompanying music started playing. You just stared at each other for a few seconds. The way he was looking at you sent a tidal wave of butterflies through your stomach. “What are you thinking about right now?” you asked as you reached up and brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes.

He looked down as if he didn’t want to tell you before he finally looked back and you with smoldering eyes. “How beautiful you are.” His low gravely voice sent a shiver down your spine and a blush warmed your cheeks. “Especially when you do that.” He reached out and ran the backs of his fingers down your cheek. You smiled and leaned into his touch. “What are you thinkin’ about?” he asked as he slid his hand down to rest on you neck.

“A lot.” You answered with a sigh as you moved around to lay on the couch with your head in his lap. “Some of it’s superficial the rest of it, not so much.” You smiled when he placed his hand on your forehead and brushed your hair back. “So what do you want to hear, shallow thoughts or deep thoughts? Either way they’ve all got something to do with you.” You told him as you grabbed his hand that wasn’t playing with your hair and placed your palms together.

“Deep.” He answered as he watched you line your fingers up with his.

“I feel like your too good for me.” You didn’t look up at him and just kept playing with his muscular fingers. “like I don’t deserve you.”

“What?” Daryl asked as if you had just told him that the moon was made of cheese. “You think I’m too good for you?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “I mean I’m… I’m no one… just a useless shut in. But you?” you finally looked up at him. “You’re someone, a survivor. You can protect this place and help provide for people.”

“You’ll become a survivor too. Just takes time.” Daryl twitched his fingers in yours moving his fingers so that he could close his hand around yours. “That’s why you asked me for help, right?” he asked.

You nodded and looked back at his hand in yours where he rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb. “And because I wanted an excuse to be around you.” You added with a small smirk to lighten things up a bit.

“I’m glad one of us had the courage to come up with an excuse.” His quiet words caused a smile to cross your face. “Game on?” he asked and somehow you knew that he was meaning that he wanted to play the game that you had been playing earlier that day. So you sat up and turned around to face him with one of your legs pulled up into the couch.

You nodded and smiled he motioned for you to go first. “Did you plan the camping trip just so you could get me alone?” You asked the first question that popped into your head.

“No.” he answered and you felt a little disappointed. “And yes.”

“Okay break the rules of the game and explain that one please.” You suggested.

“You really did need the training, so no, I didn’t plan it just so we would be alone, but I did also want uninterrupted time alone with you so yes.” He explained making you smile. “Last night, you’d moved over in your sleep and cuddled with me. Why’d you move away before I woke up?’

“That’s not a yes or no question.” You told him and he rolled his eyes. “Fine.” You glanced down at your hands where they laid in your lap. “I woke up, pressed into your side and you weren’t touching me or cuddling me back. I figured you didn’t want me touching you, but were too nice to make me move. So I moved.”

“I told you before. You can fall asleep on me anytime. You didn’t have to move.” He told you so you nodded letting him know you understood.

“Did you plan on more happening in that tent than just sleeping?” you asked needing to know.

“Will you hate me if I say yes?” he answered you question with a question.

“No.” you admitted with a shy smile. “Because it was all I could think about all night.”

“Can I kiss you?” he asked quietly and you nodded so he leaned into you and pressed his lips to yours. You kissed him back. As the kiss deepened he placed his hand on your sides and pulled you a little closer. You let him manipulate you as if you were a puppet. When his lips left yours it was only to start kissing his way down your neck.

Laughter bubbled from your lips when all of a sudden Daryl gripped your hips and picked you up, moving you to sit on his lap. You pressed your face into his neck as he slid his hands up your back then back down to slide up under your shirt. You sighed at the feeling of his warm hands on your flesh. “Are you sure about this?” your mouth asked the question without your minds permission.

“Yep.” Daryl grunted from where he was kissing your shoulder. “Are you?” he asked between kisses.

“Yes.” Your tone wasn’t quiet right and Daryl could tell. So he pulled back to look you in the eyes.

“You said yes, but I heard no.” he slid his hands down your back to rest on your hips again. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” You told him with a shake of your head.

“Told ya in the beginning, ya gotta learn to talk.” Daryl said moving his hand to rest on your cheek. “So talk to me.”

“I feel like…your just going along with this because you know I like you and Carol and Rick seem to be pushing us together.” You admitted some thoughts that had been floating around in your head since the two of you started getting closer. “Like I’ve been pushed on you.”

Daryl ran his thumb down your cheek. “You are beautiful.” His words pulled your eyes up from where you had been staring down at your hands were they rested on his chest. “and smart. You’ve had my attention since the first time I saw you out there runnin’.” He said making you blush he noticed and smiled a little. “You looked like you were lost in your own little world, skin slick with sweat. Trust me, I want you and no one made me do it.” He insisted and slid his hand down your face to grip your neck.

“Say that again.” You whispered still looking him in the eyes.

“No one made me.” He repeated.

You shook your head no. “Not that, the other part.”

“I want you.” Daryl whispered back sending a chill down your spine to your core. Your eyes slipped closed and you smiled. “So what do you want?” Daryl asked and you opened you eyes back up.

“You.” You answered as you slid your hands up his chest to his neck.

“huh?” he asked pretending like he hadn’t heard you.

“I want you.” You told him louder right before he pressed his lips hard into yours.

His kisses were so needy and passionate that you no longer questioned him. You were once again putty in his hands as he gripped your ass and stood up. As you wrapped your legs around his waist he broke the kiss to ask, “Where’s your bedroom?” then started kissing your neck pulling a moan out of you.

“Hallway.” He bit your neck fogging your brain. “Door at the end.” You wrapped your legs tighter around him as he started walking you that way, making out with you the whole time. How he managed to hold you, make out with you, walk and navigate all at the same time, you didn’t know but you didn’t care. You just reached behind him, grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head.

Eventually though, you felt your back hit the door and to keep from him having to put you down to open the door you took one of your arms out from around him to reach behind you and open the door. He broke the kiss long enough to locate the bed and lay you both down.

~~~~~

You both lay on the bed covered in a light sheen of sweat that the thin sheet covering you stuck to. You were tucked into the crook of Daryl’s arm tracing the letters of the tattoo on his chest when Daryl finally broke the silence. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

You rolled over onto your stomach so that you could look at his face. “I’m an open book.” You replied as you propped your head up in your hands.

“How’d you end up in foster care?” he asked and you turned your eyes to the mattress.

“My , my father… had a gambling addiction. He constantly owed someone money, most of the time he couldn’t pay up. So he…sold me, to people.” You admitted, not looking him in the eyes. Daryl reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “You see that scar on my side?” you asked and he ran his fingers up the long rigid, raised scar. “When I was fourteen a man tried to kill me. He told my father “Give me my money or I’ll gut this bitch like a fish”. Without missing a beat my father told him to go for it. So the guy did it. Slit me from my hip to my armpit.”

You felt Daryl hook his finger under your chin to tild your head up and place a gentle kiss on your lips. “So how’d you not bleed out?”

“I practically drug myself to the neighbors house and demanded she drive me to the er.” You answered. “From there CPS was called and I never set foot in that house again.”

“You’re already a survivor, ya know that?” Daryl asked and you simply shrugged, not believing him.

“Does that mean our survival training is over?” you asked a little sad.

“Hell no.” he rolled over to hover above you then started up another passionate kiss.

Training Sessions Tag List: @itsmysticalmystery  @txnii-hxrdyy

Daryl Tag List:  @jodiereedus22 @mtngirlforever @zzeacat @winchester-angel @moodygrip @beegnc @hells-mistress @lighthope08 @sapphire1727 @luisadontcurr @chloebabyboo @ilkaeliseb @twdeadfanfic @ravengalaxia @1lluminaticonfirmed @my-current-fandom-is @nikkiloves-bailey @coffeebooksandfandom @lonewolf471 @gruffle1 @mblaqgi @calumstuffs @beltzboys2015-blog @neontiger007  @lonewolf471 @sourwolf-sterek32 @khloekiddo

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fan fiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon & reader #Daryl x reader #daryl & reader #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fan fiction #daryl dixon x reader fanfiction #the walking dead & reader fanfiction #twd fanfiction #twd fan fiction #twd fanfic

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

howlin’ for you (billy russo) 2/?

Summary: Billy Russo’s never been one for emotional conversations or warm embraces. The hard and handsome CEO of ANVIL, he has no attachments…except to Liv Miller, his roommate and artsy best friend. He’s lost everything personal to him from his childhood to his Marine best friend but he won’t lose her. Not his Olive. 

Pairing: Billy Russo x OFC

- Part One - 

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That evening, after slurping down bowls of creamy fettuccine alfredo and breadsticks that they’d decided to order from Olive Garden, Liv watched Billy head out for a night on the town. He’d dressed down, a simple sweater and dark jeans which was an odd choice.

It was something Liv had seen him in plenty of times around the penthouse or back when they would meet up with Frank and his family but never on dates, not anymore. The CEO couldn’t afford to look ‘plain’ as Billy had called it. But alas, his three piece suit had been left behind.

“Should I keep the door unlocked or will I be seeing you after I get home from work tomorrow?” Liv had asked from the staircase as he grabbed the keys to his Rolls Royce and checked his phone.

“I’ll be surprised if this one sticks around for more than a beer,” he answered honestly as scrunched his nose, “Homeland Security Agent.”

“You said that as if suddenly I’ll understand whether she will sleep with you or not,” Liv scoffed, her sweaty grip tightened on her easel. The canvas bag of supplies on her shoulder felt slightly heavier as she waited for his goodbye. His eyes still stayed glued on his phone. “Goodnight Russo,” she finally huffed and hiked up the stairs to the roof access.

The skyline was lit up like Christmas lights on an early snowed in morning, illuminating the New York Harbor as night life bellowed in the distance. She loved this roof, it always felt like nothing could be ruined up here in the clouds. She pushed the easel legs apart and slid the fresh canvas into it’s slot.

Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her denim overalls, a dotted and smeared substitute  washcloth for her paint brushes. She hated to waste paper towel. Sorry, work needed answers. I’ll text if it’s not going well. Billy wrote her and she rolled her eyes, pushing her phone back into the deep side pocket.

When she was all set up, she began her work. Deep breaths took form in brush strokes of blues and greys, her smiles punctuated by greens and yellows. Painting was a passion, the only thing that kept Liv going when she was past from home to home growing up. She was thankful for the elderly woman who took her in long enough to give her her very first acrylic paint set.

Time past without her notice and when the door to the rooftop opened, she jumped at the sudden intrusion. From her perched position on the brick wall structure, she could spot Billy’s mop of hair coming toward her.

“I texted you several times,” he said with his hands in his pockets. Liv didn’t look up.

“I guess things really weren’t going well,” Liv said, tone uninterested.

“She asked me about Frank.” Silence. His voice was so point blank, so matter of fact that Liv almost choked on her spit.

“Can’t they let a dead man rest in peace?” she finally let out. She threw the brush in her hand into the cup. Frank was gone, one of the first people to take her in. “Frankie was a good man, what would Homeland Security want to know about him?”

“I don’t want to think about it tonight Olive,” Billy sniffed, the emotion practically sucking back inside of his body. “Want to split a bottle of wine with me?” Liv turned back to her painting, the dark ocean water view nearly finished. She nodded, despite her best judgement. Billy still had a hard time with Frankie being gone too. She couldn’t leave him hanging.

“Help me bring this stuff inside? I don’t want to leave this out here overnight,” she nodded to the painting and he moved forward to carry everything she handed him.

They drank more than a bottle of wine, drunk messes as they watched old episodes of a crappy three A.M. sitcom. They passed out on the couch sat next to one another, heads lulled to the side. It wasn’t until the next morning, when the pounding and heavy rain was panging against the window sill that she awoke.

Liv was groggy, her head pounding as she squinted. A phone was aggressively vibrating on the coffee table, Billy’s arm wrapped around her shoulder, his head tucked into her neck. “Billy, get off me,” she mumbled, her voice raw and raspy. “Billy,” she tried again. He didn’t move so she pushed his forehead with her only small ounce of strength, letting him free fall to the other end of the couch.

He woke with a start, catching himself as she rushed off the couch in the direction of the closest toilet or sink. Liv didn’t even bother with the lights as she slammed the seat up and emptied the wine and pasta left in her stomach into the toilet. Billy came in after her, his usually fast pace lagging as he flicked on the lights only for a chorus of groans to result in them being turned back off.

Billy’s knees cracked as he knelt down, back slumping against the jacuzzi bathtub and large hand rubbing her back soothingly. “Too much wine,” she croaked between hurls. He only nodded, not used to a wine hangover. It wasn’t normally his style and he was sure he wasn’t going to make it a habit.

“I’m supposed to have lunch with Karen today,” Liv rested her forehead against the cold ceramic of the seat taking hefty breaths. “What time is it?”

“It’s only 9:30,” Billy replied and yawned, “You’ve got time. Go sleep, I’ll come wake you in two hours.”

“What about you?”

“I’ve got a company to run and phone calls to make,” he mumbled, hand lazily moving to flush the toilet.

Taglist: @damalseer @tiredofthisgeneration @holamor @the-doctor-9-10 @prettyathenarising @thesandbeneathmytoes @ashkuuuu @ymariejp @audreychaz @tartelette-aux-fraises @siriusement

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