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sergeantbarnessdoll · 10 months

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Christmas Hats and Magnets » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

December 7th

Pairings: Husband/Dad!Bucky Barnes x Wife/Mom!Reader with daughter Isabella and Alpine

Summary: Bucky’s and Y/N’s 4 year old daughter gives Christmas hats to her parents and puts magnets on her daddy’s metal arm.

Warnings: Fluff, language, nothing but cuteness, hugs and kisses, cuddling, nicknames for daughter (princess, baby girl), pet names for reader (doll)

Thank you to @buckys-wintersoldier for this adorable Christmas idea!❤️💚

Written on my phone so sorry if there’s any mistakes or typos.

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️

“Mommy! Daddy! Wake up! It’s Christmas time!” Isabella says excitedly, jumping up and down on yours and Bucky’s bed.

You opened your eyes to see Isabella wearing a Santa hat. You sat up and pulled her on your lap and gave her kisses.

“Daddy’s still sleeping. We need to be quiet.” You whisper.

“Daddy sleeping.” She whispers back.

You carefully got out of bed with Isabella in your arms so you guys didn’t wake up Bucky. You took Izzy to the living room so she can watch TV and play while you made breakfast.

“Do you want pancakes or waffles?” You asked her.

“Waffles please!” Isabella says politely with a smile.

“Good choice!” You smiled.

You went to the kitchen and got everything you needed to make breakfast. A few minutes later, you felt a little hand tugging your -Bucky’s- shirt. You looked down to see Isabella looking up at you.

“Can I have a juice box please?” She asks.

“Of course, baby girl.” You walked to the fridge and opened it. “What flavor do you want? Apple, Orange, or Fruit Punch?” You asked.

“Fruit Punch.” She says.

You grabbed a Fruit Punch juice box, opening it for her and gave it to her.

“Thank you, mommy!” Isabella says, taking it from your hand.

“You’re welcome. Try not to spill it.” You say.

Isabella nodded and went back to the living room to play and watch TV. Another few minutes go by when Izzy comes back in the kitchen.

“Do you need something else, baby girl?” You asked her.

“No. I have something for you!” Isabella hands you a Santa hat. “I have one for daddy too and I put one on Alpine!” She tells you.

You smiled, taking it from her hand and put it on.

“Now we’re twins!” She says, clapping her little hands before running back to the living room.

You went back to making breakfast. A little bit later, you went in the living room to get Isabella for breakfast, but you didn’t see her in there. You assumed she went to her bedroom for something or to play. You went upstairs and poked your head in her bedroom. You furrowed your eyebrows when you didn’t see her in there. That’s when you heard little giggles coming from yours and Bucky’s bedroom. You walked down the hallway to the bedroom to see Isabella sitting next to her sleeping daddy and putting Christmas magnets on his metal arm. You bit your bottom lip to keep yourself from laughing. Bucky’s eyes fluttered opened when he heard giggling. He seen Isabella sitting next to him, continuing to put magnets on his metal arm.

“What are you doing, princess?” Bucky asks, rubbing his eyes.

“Making your arm look Christmasy!” She says.

Bucky lifted his metal arm to see a variety of different Christmas magnets on it.

“I also have this for you!” She says, handing him a Santa hat.

“Thank you, princess.” Bucky smiles and put it on.

“Me and Alpine have one too!” Isabella pointed at Alpine who was sleeping on her cat tree. “Mommy does too!” She says, pointed at you.

“All three of you look beautiful with them on.” He says, kissing her forehead.

You smiled and walked towards the bed and got on it.

“Good morning, Mr. Claus.” You kissed Bucky’s lips.

“Good morning, Mrs. Claus.” Bucky kisses you back.

“Hey!” Isabella shouted, getting yours and Bucky’s attention. “I’m still here!” She pouted, crossing her little arms over her chest.

Bucky grabbed her and put her on his lap. You and Bucky attacked her with kisses and tickles causing her to let out squeals and giggles.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough. Let’s go downstairs and eat breakfast before it gets cold.” You say.

“Mommy made waffles!” Isabella gets off of her daddy’s lap and carefully got off the bed. “Hurry up before I eat them all!” She shouts on her way out of the bedroom.

Bucky got out of bed and ran up behind her, picking her up causing her to squeal and giggle again. You followed them to the kitchen. You pour two cups of coffee, one for you and one for Bucky. You went to the dining room and gave Bucky his coffee and Isabella her breakfast. You went back to the kitchen for yours and Bucky breakfast and went back to the dining room. You took a seat next to Bucky.

“This looks delicious, doll.” Bucky compliments making you smile.

“Thank you, Buck.” You kissed his stubbly cheek.

Bucky turned his head to capture your lips in a kiss making you smile against his lips.

“No kissing! I’m trying to eat my waffles!” Isabella shouts making you and Bucky laugh at her cuteness.

❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️

-Bucky’s Doll

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hotgirlbedtimescenarios · 3 months

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Before the Sun Rises // Chapter 4

Fresh Start

Pairing: dbf!joel x f!reader (no outbreak)

Summary: Time with a special friend has you and Joel eager to clear the air of tension that has been causing a rift between the two of you recently.

Words: 4.3k+

Warnings: fluff, some family turmoil, and a brief/vague mention of potential SA ( nothing happened )

Masterlist

“You look like crap,” your sister teases when she spots you laid out on the couch, nursing a cold glass of water and force-feeding yourself a cold pancake from the breakfast your mom had cooked hours ago.

“Shut up, Izzy,” you groan, angry at yourself for being so hungover.

“I guess you aren’t coming to town with us today?” she asks.

“No thanks,” you say, taking another nibble of your pancake.

Your mom walks around the corner, digging in her massive, cluttered purse for her keys while she speaks to you, “Izzy and I will be in town for most of the day. I have a lot of errands to run, and she needs some supplies for summer camp.”

You grunt an acknowledgment, still too nauseous to form many words.

“And your father’s gone golfing with Richard; who knows how long they’ll be gone today,” she finishes as she motions Izzy toward the door to leave. Finally, the door closes behind them, and the house is washed in sweet, beautiful silence.

You finish choking down your pancake and chugging a glass of water before walking into the kitchen to search for aid. Thankfully, you find a bottle of ibuprofen and swallow two before trudging back upstairs for a shower.

You’d still be in bed, but you’d made plans to visit Mrs. Mildred way before you had the bright idea to have a girl's night out.

---

Mrs. Mildred was quite the character. When you were younger, you used to view her as the crabbiest old lady on the block.

Once, you accidentally hit a baseball into her yard, which shattered her car’s side mirror. She scolded you for days afterward. The incident made you steer clear of her, only exchanging forced hellos when necessary.

Fast forward to sophomore year of high school, when your parents volunteered for you to help Mrs. Mildred with gardening. She needed someone to plant hydrangeas in her yard, and your parents graciously offered your services without consulting you. Begrudgingly, you went over, expecting a grumpy older woman.

Mrs. Mildred was stern and precise in her instructions, but as you worked together, you noticed her wit and humor peeking through her no-nonsense façade. She knew exactly what she wanted and how to do it. You imagined that if her aging back were up to snuff, she’d never stoop low enough to ask some child for gardening help.

After the plants were in the ground, she invited you inside for refreshments. “Come on inside, honey,” she directed you. She walked inside without looking back to see if you obeyed. You did.

Once inside, she ushered you to her small, round, wooden kitchen table. “Thank you for your help today, dear; I know it’s no fun, but my back is too damn old to bend over like that anymore.”

You were surprised at her crass language, a smile ticking up the sides of your mouth. As you sat at the kitchen table together, sipping homemade lemonade and munching on sandwiches and snacks, you engaged in conversation, chatting away like old friends.

It dawned on you that Mrs. Mildred wasn’t just a grumpy old lady but a girl. A lonely one, especially after her husband’s passing many years ago. Beneath her tough exterior was a woman with many stories and experiences to share with whoever would listen.

From that day on, you started to see Mrs. Mildred in a new light. You greeted her more often and joined her on her porch for afternoon chats. Before you knew it, you had formed an unlikely friendship with the firecracker of a woman, Mrs. Mildred, who turned out to be a great companion and confidante.

---

After a cool shower, you feel much more alive, no longer teetering on the verge of nausea and cringing away from every bright light in your eyes. You dry your hair, letting it fall loosely down your back, and then get dressed for the day.

You choose a delicate, white sun dress that flows loosely across your body, ties into a bow at your back, and has a hem that falls right above your knee—a perfect, relaxed fit to keep you cool and comfortable. Then, you slip into a pair of sandals and head across the street.

As you approach her home across from yours, you smile at the hydrangea bushes blooming with colorful petals, reminding you of your first afternoon here many years ago.

When you reach her door, you can hear the faint sound of old jazz music drifting through her cracked windows. You knock, and a moment later, Mrs. Mildred opens the door, a bright smile spreading across her face at the sight of you.

“Well, look who finally decided to pay this old bird a visit,” she teases, “didn’t think I’d see you again before I kick the bucket.”

You laugh, “You know I’d be pissed if you croak before I got to see you again!” you tease right back, pulling her small frame into a hug.

Mildred was even older now, probably teetering around 80 years old. Her petite frame was bent with age as she’d shrunk since the last time you saw her. Her hair, still white as snow, was curled on the top of her head with a pair of reading glasses tucked into it.

“Come on in, dear; I was just putting on another pot of coffee.”

You follow her inside, taking in the familiar surroundings of her cozy living room. The air was filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and fresh linen.

Settling into one of her worn armchairs, you feel a sense of ease wash over you as Mrs. Mildred bustled about, prepping the coffee. Once everything was ready, she joined you and handed you a steaming cup. You took a sip, two sugars, and a whole lot of cream, just how you like it. You smile at the fact that she still remembers after all this time.

Settling into her armchair with a cup, she starts, “Now spill. Tell me something that’ll keep this old woman from dying of boredom. What have you been up to?”

You launch into your spiel about finally graduating but not knowing what you want to do next, about how your parents are pushing you to reach out and accept a job at Richard’s law firm.

She stops you, “Enough about all that; I don’t give a rat's ass about that man. Tell me what’s on your mind, really.”

You laugh, grateful she doesn’t amount your worth to your post-college plans like most people seem to do. So, you dive into a tale of college stories and your time abroad. Only pausing when she interjects her own commentary or asks If the boys you mentioned were “anything to write home about.”

“Definitely not,” you respond. You sip your coffee, considering what you want to ask her.

“Millie, how’d you know when you’d found your husband?” A genuine question, now turning the conversation more serious.

Mildred’s eyes sparkle with something mischievous momentarily before she barks a laugh, a crass joke probably on the tip of her tongue. But then she pauses, her laughter fading into a smile tinged with nostalgia.

“Well, honey,” she begins gently, “I’ll spare you the dirty joke this time. When I met my Donald, it wasn’t something remarkable like what you see in those sappy romance movies. He was just a regular guy, rough around the edges, but with a heart of gold.”

She leaned back in her chair, lost in the memories of days gone by. “I knew he was the one for me when he stood by me through thick and thin. He loved me for me, and I never held any part of myself back from him. He saw everything, even the ugly parts, and never once wavered in his love and support. He made me laugh when I wanted to cry and held me close when life got tough. Even put up with my foul-mouthed humor without a single chide. He was my best friend.”

A wistful smile played on her lips as she continued, “You’ll know you found the one when they accept you for who you are, flaws and all. It won’t always be easy, but it's worth it. Real love is messy and imperfect. They might never fully understand you, but they must be with you through anything and everything. Always there when you need them and vice versa.”

You listened intently, touched by the sincerity of her words. Remembering again that her wisdom extended far beyond her crass jokes and witty remarks. “Were you ever worried about whether or not he’d like you for you?”

“Well,” she considers it for a moment, “If he didn’t, that just meant he wasn’t the one for me. So, I said to hell with it and showed him exactly who I was from the start.”

You smile, happy to hear that she’d found someone to love uniquely her, just as she is.

Just as you two are about to launch another conversation, a knock at her door rattles you. “I’ll get it,” she says, groaning as she pushes herself out of her armchair and shuffles toward the door.

“Joel! There you are, come on in,” she waves him inside.

Shocked, your head whips toward the door, and you watch Joel's burly figure enter the room. His shoulders stretch against a worn-looking t-shirt above a pair of loose-fitted jeans and signature work boots that thump loudly against the floor wherever he goes.

“What is it you needed help with this afternoon?” he asks, wiping his feet on the doormat before following her into the living room where you sit.

When he notices you, his strides halt. “Oh, sorry to interrupt,” he says, at a loss for words. “Didn’t know you had company; I can come back later.”

“Nonsense,” the old woman waves him off, “Sit down and visit with us. I’ll go grab you a cup of coffee.”

Mildred shuffles into the kitchen, rattling around, while Joels sits on the couch.

“Feeling alright after last night?” He asks you, thankfully not giving you the silent treatment.

“Yeah, it was rough getting up this morning but I'm fine now,” you answer, sipping your coffee. “What about you and Tommy?”

Mildred reemerges from the kitchen, handing Joel a large mug of fresh black coffee, and settles back into her original chair.

“Had to drag him back home by the night's end.” He says before taking a sip from his mug. “By the time I drove him home and handed him off to Maria, I think he’d already passed out.”

“Sounds like he did his bachelor party right then,” Mildred chimes in with a laugh.

You look at her, confused about how she knew what they were up to last night.

She meets you with a satisfied look, “Don’t be surprised. You’re not my only friend in the neighborhood.” She nods toward Joel, “Joel’s been coming around to keep me company ever since you went off and left me.”

You look to Joel now, eager for an explanation. He looks down at his feet, almost shy and embarrassed. “I remembered you spent afternoons over here before you left. Figured she’d need some company, so I stopped by one day.”

He looks at Mildred now with a half smile on his face. “Ever since then, she’s been exploiting my kindness for free work and rides to doctors' visits.”

The old woman cackles, “It’s the least you can do in exchange for my charming company.”

You smile, and your heart grows warm, knowing that Joel has been here to care for your dear friend in your absence.

Silence fills the air now, the tension between you and Joel still ever present, though lighter now than it has been. You avoid looking at each other too much, and Mildred seems to pick up on the awkward energy.

She breaks the silence, eyeing the two of you. “What’s going on with you two?”

Your eyes dart to hers, and Joel follows suit. “What do you mean?” you ask nervously.

There’s no way she’d know about whatever was happening between you and Joel. Whatever the growing tension was between the two of you, putting a block in your friendship, or whatever it was you had with him.

“I mean what I said. What have the two of you been up to lately? It’s summer break. I’m sure Sarah has been keeping you busy,” she says, looking at Joel before turning to you, “and you're free to do whatever now, too.”

“Right,” Joel says, relaxing, “Sarah’s been jumping at the bit to do something daily. She’s mostly excited about finally being allowed to go to summer camp this year with Izzy.”

“That’s right,” you chime in. “I heard about that. My sister won't stop talking about how excited they are. She’s actually out shopping for supplies with my mom today.”

“You finally gave in?” Mildred teases, “Took you long enough. Poor girl has been begging for years, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Joel concedes, “I just worry about her too much. A whole week away in a camp in the woods? That can’t be a good idea for a bunch of little girls. What if som-“

You cut him off, “She’ll be fine, Joel,” you reassure him. “I went when I was younger, and I’d hardly call it camp. It’s a bunch of air-conditioned cabins right off the interstate where they do arts and crafts for a week and learn how to start fires with flint.”

He grumbles something unintelligible. Millie smiles to herself across the room, sensing the tension ease.

“Oh!” she jumps up out of her chair. “Let me show you something, dear,” Mildred says as she shuffles over to a bookshelf and grabs an old, worn leather photo album. “Speaking of my dear Donald, let me show you this.”

Mildred brings the photo album with her as she sits on the couch next to Joel, who looks confused about what she’s talking about, having not been present for the earlier conversation.

Mildred waves you over. “Come have a look,” she says, patting the spot next to her on the couch.

Rising from your seat, you join her and Joel on the couch. Mildred in the middle as a nice buffer between the two of you.

She opens the book to display a collage of age-tinted pictures, some with frayed and yellowed edges. The first picture shows a small woman with a tenacious-looking expression, obviously a younger Mildred, and a tall, sturdy-looking man who you assume is her late husband.

You and Joel both lean in to get a better look.

“This was me and my Don right after we moved into this house.”

“Wow, Mildred, you’re a bombshell!” you compliment her.

“I sure used to be,” she agrees, “nothing but a bag of old bones now,” she chuckles.

She flips to the next page; the photo now depicts a younger Mildred in a beautiful satin wedding dress, a long sweeping veil, and some interestingly oversized puffy sleeves that must have been all the fashion back then. Her husband was dressed in a suit with his arms wrapped around her.

“What a dress,” you comment.

“Sure is somethin’,” Joel adds, failing to hide his distaste for the gaudy fashion choices.

“Don’t judge me too harshly; it was all the craze back in my day. This was the day we were married nearly 60 years ago.”

“I’m sure that was an amazing day,” you offer.

“It was, well, for the most part.” Mildred flips the page, showing a picture of the newlywed couple sharing their first dance in a nearly empty reception hall. “Marrying him was one of the best days of my life, no doubt, but we didn’t have that many guests. My parents were dead set against me marrying him.”

“Why?” you ask, intrigued. You see Joel raise an eyebrow across from you, also interested in the story.

“Well, there are many reasons they came up with to try not to like him. He was older, though many people didn’t care about that much back then. His parents came from nothing: seamstresses for a mother and factory worker for a father. My parents raised hell when they found out I was seeing him. They thought their daughter deserved someone in the same tax bracket, like a lawyer or doctor.”

She flips the page again, displaying a picture of her and her husband holding a baby girl, her oldest daughter, you assume.

“When they found out we were engaged, they stopped talking to me, cut off my funds, and tried to blackmail me into leaving him. But they didn’t know the wealth I saw in him,” she continues lovingly. “He was a good man and cared for me like no one else. He laughed with me, cried with me, and fought like hell with me, too, but loved me regardless. I felt the happiest I’d ever been every day I spent with him. They never completely came around; we were always the family's black sheep after that, but it was all worth it.”

“It seems like you made the right decision. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard someone talk about their spouse that way.” You said, and it was true.

“You two listen up now,” she instructs, nodding to you and Joel. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned all these years, you need to live life for yourself. Don’t give a damn what anybody else has to say. I was shunned by my family and many of my so-called friends, too, but I didn’t care. It wasn’t more important than spending my life with the man I loved. In the beginning, I was scared of the backlash. All the external pressure got to me, and I broke things off with Donald briefly before realizing it was a colossal mistake. We lost precious time together before I came to my senses and ran back to him. I’d give anything to go back and get even just a few days more with him now.”

It was as if Mildred knew what was happening between you and Joel. She didn’t realize just how applicable this conversation was to you.

The three of you spend the rest of the afternoon chatting in Mildred's living room.

Joel shares how well his contracting business is going, especially with several new big-time clients in the city practically throwing money at him to take on all their projects.

Before he can get into much detail, Mildred interjects, “And what about Tommy and Maria? Engagement party soon, right? Do they need help organizing?”

“Yes, mam, it is,” Joel replies, “and no, I think Maria is doing a fine job with everything. Tommy is actually pretty excited; he was going on about color schemes and ambiance last week.” Joel chuckles, “Didn’t think I'd see the day he cared about party planning details other than what drinks he’d be bringing, but the boy is in deep with Maria. Several of her friends have agreed to help with setup and hosting, so there's nothing left to do now but wait.”

“ I look forward to it,” Mildred says. “Finally, giving this old bird a chance to dress up and socialize. Your folks coming too?” she says, looking at you now.

“Yeah, we’ll be there, I wouldn’t miss it.”

Mildred yawns before getting up from the couch to stretch. “I hate to run y'all off, but I think I need a bit of a nap.”

Joel stands, offering his arm to Mildred if she needs help shuffling to the bedroom, but she swats him away.

“Need anything before we go, Millie? What was it you called me over here for anyways?” Joel questions.

“Oh, don’t worry about it; we’ll get to that next time. Can you walk her home for me, dear?”

You protest, “Millie, I live right across the street. I don’t need –“

She cuts you off. “I’m not senile yet, dear; I know that. But he’s going to do what I asked him to anyways, won't you, Joel,” she finishes, giving him a firm look that leaves no room for arguing.

“Yes, Mam.”

Without further discussion, you all say goodbye. With a click of the front door closing behind you, you find yourself alone with Joel.

Not waiting to be led home by him like a child, you begin walking toward your house. Over your shoulder, you call back to him, “You really don’t have to walk me home, Joel.”

“I’m scared of what she will do to me if I don’t,” he jokes before his much longer strides allow him to catch up to you and walk side by side. After a beat of silence, he continues, “I, uh, I actually wanted to talk to you anyways.”

You cut your eyes in his direction, surprised by his words. “Oh,” you say, “about what?”

He doesn’t look at you; he looks straight ahead as he walks with one hand by his side and the other rubbing the back of his neck, his telltale sign of discomfort.

“’ Bout last night. And uh, about everything, really. I didn’t mean to cause a scene last night; I just wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

Sure, you had been annoyed with him last night, insinuating you were a drunk mess who couldn’t take care of herself. But after you got home and heard his voice on the phone, clearly worried about whether or not you made it home, it chilled the brewing anger you'd had toward him.

“It’s alright. I actually was going to thank you. If today's hangover is an indication of how drunk I was last night, then I get why you would have been worried about how I was getting home. Lucas, got me back safe, no problem.”

“Lucas,” Joel repeats his name, his voice a bit drier than before, and you think you see him roll his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t think you're capable of taking care of yourself, but I don’t know if I trust him.”

A beat of silence follows as the two of you continue to walk. You wrack your brain, trying to figure out Joel’s disdain for Lucas before it clicks. Prom night.

The night that should’ve been the best night of your high school life ended with you in tears over how Lucas treated you. It had left you crying in the arms of Joel Miller, who promised he'd deal with Lucas if he ever bothered you again.

“Oh,” you say, pausing as the memory floods your thoughts. You’re surprised Joel even remembers that from so many years ago.

Your eyes are on the ground, and your face is warm with embarrassment because he clearly remembers that emotional moment.

Joel halts his stride as well, coming to a stop beside you. “The last time I’d heard you say anything about him, it wasn’t good. Then I saw him there, leading you to his truck without your friends. I thought.. well, I couldn’t let you go with him without knowing if you were too drunk or if you were comfortable leaving with him.”

Guilt comes crashing down on you. You’d been so pissed at Joel but hearing things from his point of view, the way things must have looked, and given his background knowledge of Lucas, it all makes sense now.

You finally glance up, meeting his warm brown eyes in the light of day. “I know what It must've looked like. My friends and I had caught up with Lucas earlier in the night, and he seemed to have changed, so I took him up on his offer to drive me home. That’s it.” You let a small smile appear on your face, “Thanks for looking out for me.”

“Any time.” He smiles back, “I mean it.”

The sincerity in his voice sends another wave of emotion through you. Having been in such a weird place with Joel lately, you’ve forgotten the kind of man he is. He’d always looked out for you, always been there when you didn’t know who else to turn to.

Maybe it clouded your vision and led you to believe you were seeing signs of something more between the two of you when, in reality, it was just wishful thinking.

You've built up one-sided affection and snapped at him the other night outside of your house when the way he’d been acting around you didn’t fit that narrative.

Breaking eye contact, you take a deep breath and exhale. “Listen, I’m sorry for snapping at you the other night after dinner. It’s weird being back home. I was a kid when I left, but I’ve come back as an adult. I’ve been away for years and feel like a new person now, but my parents don’t see that. They treat me like they always have like I'm too young and inexperienced to know what's good for me.”

Joel opens his mouth to say something, but you keep going.

“But you’ve never treated me that way; you never made me feel less than, and I guess I got confused and.-“

“Hey,” Joel finally interjects, saving you from rambling into how you may have misconstrued his attention and embarrassed yourself by assuming it was something more.

You feel his palm land on your shoulder, rubbing a soothing thumb back and forth as he steps closer. Despite the heat of the summer sun, chills prickle up your spine.

“You have nothing to apologize for. You were right; I was being an asshole. You’re not a kid no more, hell anyone who spends any time with you should know that by now. I don’t know what I was thinking, acting the way I did. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Can we just start over?” You ask. “Be friends again, for real this time?”

“I’d like that.” A smile lifts the edge of his lips and crinkles the skin around his eyes.

You and Joel finally finish the walk back to your house in comfortable silence, where he leaves you at the door.

“Welcome home,” he says in that signature smooth rasp.

“Good to be back,” you answer with a smile, and this time it's true, as you slip inside.

With the air cleared and things between you and Joel back to normal, the weight has been lifted, and you are eager for what's to come this summer.

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gumballavocadoharry · 2 months

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A period piece:

Izzy woke to a groggy morning, feeling the frost burn of February air. Little snow dots stuck to her window like diamonds, or a sugar dipped iced cube. While goosebumps picked through her skin, another feeling ran through her. After adjusting herself to the temperature of the bedroom, Izzy realized that the lingering ping was coming from her stomach.

Not the usual hunger growl that struck her around 3 am on some nights, but a faraway type of ache that waded inside like a toothache.

Only then would she notice the mushy feeling down below and the cool damp spot that sat underneath her. Jolting up, Izzy saw the dark red spot that had bleed from her shorts, onto her sheets. Her period.

It came! she thought. But the moment was short lived when she heard the floor settle of her father's bedroom. Grabbing her sheets, Izzy did a quiet jog down the stairs and into the laundry room- shoving her sheets into the washer. The only item in the wash, Izzy used a mundane amount of liquid and then turned the dial to the perfect setting for the delicate item. It was hard to think of her father and her period in the same thought.

Sure, he knew what they were- as he had taught her about them the for the first time when she was eight- but it didn't evaporate the sting of him seeing her with blood skimming down her legs or with blood-stained sheets. The very thought made Izzy's cheeks burn. An overreaction of his delight and dewy-eyed excitement: 'She's becoming a woman! My little girl! My little Izzy bunny!' It sent this curl through Izzy's gut that wasn't the steady cramps. Running back to her room, Izzy threw her pajama shorts into the hamper before grabbing the sanitary napkins that she kept in the third drawer of her cube dresser and ran into the bathroom after grabbing a pair of loose fitting, sturdy underwear, that would become Izzy's period type ones.

Izzy felt fresh now. While still breaking in the soft heaving quilted cotton of her pad, she felt this protection around her- like a long jacket that covered the secret tattoo of someone's arm. Slipping on the shorts, Izzy walked back to her bedroom and changed into her usual clothes for the day.

"Good morning, sweetie," Harry said, closing his bedroom door. "How do pancakes sound for breakfast?" Izzy smiled. "Just fine."

I'll tell him a few days from now she promised.

But it was broken. Not by her standards of course..... the school's.

Izzy didn't count on her piercing cramps to alight in the middle of third period math class.

Fidgeting in her seat, Izzy found her hands grab her stomach, grazing it back and forth with tenderness. Finally raising her hand and asking permission for the nurse. Gliding through the hallway with her aching gut, still tucked under her hand.

The nurse was kind. Gave Izzy two tablets of Midol and water and let her rest in the office for a few minutes. "I'm going to call your dad now, okay?" Izzy shot up and turned to the nurse. "Oh, I'm feeling better now."

"I know, but we always call anytime a student has menstrual symptoms," she leaned over to Izzy's ear as if to whisper a secret to her like two girls at a sleepover. "It's a policy here now, ever since a few of the PTA moms complained about how they're daughters didn't have the proper sanitary napkins or any for that matter in case of something like this."

Izzy tried to understand, but she couldn't. She couldn't imagine the embarrassment of her unsuspecting father showing up to the school with the altruistic, but dour type of sugary support he could give. Watching the nurse dial the number, Izzy laid back on the little cot like bed, and tried to drift her mind away from the scene.

Jade Paler, had gotten her flow at eleven, Sarah Brookson, at twelve. Even though Izzy knew it wasn't true, some girls had made this rule that once your age had a 'teen' to it, then it meant you were a late bloomer, and therefore, too old. Izzy was thirteen. It was dumb- sure she knew- but it still singed in her somehow, even though she couldn't put her finger on it. It nicked something inside her, like a scratched paint from a jagged edge. It irritated Izzy more than she wanted it to.

"Baby?" A pinch sensation swam through her round cheeks. Glancing up and seeing her father, now leering over her with sympathetic puppy dog eyes, let his hands cup her cheeks- squishing them like how you did with babies or little kids. And maybe that's how she felt.

Like a baby. A fragile and frail little girl in the eyes of her father.

"You have your period?" Izzy nodded. "Oh honey," Harry began. "you know this means you're a woman now, right?"

Suddenly a slice of happiness beamed Izzy. "But you'll still be my little baby."

A furrow appeared in between Izzy's eyebrows. Agitated at her father, but glancing back to the nurse, made her cheeks blossom pink again. But Izzy let a tight small smile grow across her face anyway, sat up and thanked the nurse for everything. And with that, she and her father left the nurses station.

The car ride was silent. Izzy had not spoken one word, and instead, gathered her attention to the window, where everything whizzed by, like time in those time travel movies.

"Izzy," Harry finally spoke. "You're very quiet.... is something wrong?"

"It's that time of the month, so I don't feel good."

Harry glanced towards Izzy quicky before turning back to the road again. Pulling into a parking of some office building, Harry turned off the car, and turned towards his daughter. "Sweetie.... you know you can tell me anything right?"

Izzy turned to him, letting her eyes follow up to his. "Yes," she said quietly. "So....is there something going on? I know you have your period but.... if you need anything-"

Izzy had let her face fall into her hands, wetting them with tears. Harry- without thinking- wrapped his arms around Izzy and let her little body be curbed into his. "I-I-I started my period this morning but, I stained my sheets and threw them into the wash because I didn't want you to see them."

"Why?" Harry's face full of concern. "I don't know..." Izzy thought- scrambling to rack her brain for the root of her shame. "I guess.... because I knew how'd you react. Not with anger or anything.... but with pride."

"Why would that be bad?" Izzy sighed. "Because... I guess I didn't want you to make a big deal out of it, because- well, getting your period means you're growing up and..."

Harry listened closely.

"With every other milestone, you would cheer and say 'how I'm still your baby' or something like that- and I just wanted this to be different. More mature, you know?"

He did. "Yeah.... I get that swee- Izzy."

Wrapping his arm around his daughter, Harry and Izzy shared a hug.

Izzy was growing up. And Harry knew, he had to accept that. But deep down, even if she didn't want to see or believe it herself....

She would always be his Izzy Bunny.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #dadrry #dad!harry #single dad harry #harry styles fanfiction #harry daughter #teenage daughter #father and daughter #harry styles daughter #harry styles love #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfictions #harry fanfic

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marcishaun · 5 months

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As time goes on, the Pancakes fall into a good rhythm of taking care of things. Well, at least Eliza has.

Eliza: You are your daddy's twin! 🥰 Have my eyes though.

#simsbymarci #simblr #ts4 #the sims #the sims 4 #sims 4 #btb pancakes #eliza pancakes #izzy pancakes

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cottoncandiescupcakes · 1 year

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OFMD as Dutch food

Ed: drop aka Dutch liquorice. Either love it hate it it'll leave an impression :o

Stede: Slagroomtaart aka whipped cream birthday cake :D Fancy(By Dutch standards lol) and always loved

Izzy: Oude kaas. Aged Old Amsterdam cheese, great if you can handle it

Jim: Jenever. Artisanal strong Dutch gin Jim would just really love this

Oluwande: Stroopwafel, caramel waffles that are everyone's favorite

Archie: Kroket, meat ragout filled hearty fried treats that are just so comforting

Frenchie: Poffertjes, fun mini pancakes that you can't help but enjoy

Wee John: Snert. Thick pea soup with sausage, filing and hits the spot. He'd LOVE this

Roach: Dutch/Indonesian rice table. Roach would love this and it's delicious. Many varied dishes to make.

Lucius: Tompouche. Lovely and impossible to resist just like our Lucius.

Pete: Stampot. Just a simple filling dish of sausage, mashed potatoes, gravy. Very Pete vibes

Buttons: Hollandse nieuwe. Raw herring that you eat upside down like a literal seagull. Disgusts outsiders but real ones KNOW.

Fang: Oliebollen. A new years fried dough, sugar treat that makes everyone smile.

Spanish Jackie: Kersenbonbon. Cherry liquor chocolate bonbons that will make you end up in her harem if you eat too many

The Swede: Lammetjespap. Really soft fluffy porridge said to resemble lambs that just has the same innocent energy as him

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zablife · 1 year

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Chocolate Chip Pancakes

Summary: Richie goes to jail and leaves Carm to watch Eva.

Author's Note: My first fic for The Bear so please be kind!

Warnings: language, mention of jail

“Cousin, you gotta get Eva for me. Just for tonight,” Richie begged as his hands were being restrained, a sudden clarity coming over him as he remembered his little girl was waiting across town.

“Yeah and what about you, dickhead?” Carmy asked. “Who else do you think is gonna bail you out?” he asked, looking at Fak doubtfully. Fak hung his head and retreated to the kitchen as the officers hauled Richie to his feet, shuffling him to the door.

“He’s not going anywhere until we get word from the hospital,” one of the cops barked, giving Richie’s elbow a shove.

“Please….and don’t tell Tiff,” Richie pleaded. Carm nodded in agreement. The last thing he needed on top of the property damage and assault charges was a visit from Richie’s ex-wife, screeching at him and tearing his stomach to shreds.

Pulling a cigarette from the pack, he watched his cousin get shoved into the back of the police cruiser and whisked away. Looking at his watch he realized he only had thirty minutes to get to Eva’s babysitter.

—————————————

“Where’s Richie?” Izzy asked.

“He had some stuff to finish up at the restaurant. I’m supposed to pick her up,” Carm said, trying to sound vague, yet convincing.

Izzy furrowed her brow, scanning him up and down. He looked exhausted and had clearly come from a long shift himself. He smelled like grease and smoke, a hint of garlic. She knew Carm from school, but it had been a long time.

“Thought you went to New York or some shit. Are you really working at the Beef now?” she asked.

“Look, it’s late. Can you pack Eva’s bag, please?” he asked, shifting his weight uncomfortably. He didn’t like discussing his homecoming with people as it inevitably led to unwanted questions about his brother, Mikey.

“Yeah, I’ll get her,” she said, leaving the door open for him to come inside.

—————————————

As they walked inside his tiny apartment, Eva asked, “Is Daddy coming?”

“No, um…he’s busy tonight,” Carm lied.

Eva looked around cautiously, taking in the stacks of cookbooks and haphazard piles of laundry and pots, strewn everywhere. “Don't you have a bed?” she asked, eyeing the couch made up with a pillow and blankets.

“Yeah, yeah…I got a bed,” Carm assured her. “Lemme show ya,” he said, ushering her down the hall to his room, unused even after months of occupancy. He opened the door to the sparse room, a mattress with a single sheet, nothing more.

Eva craned her neck as she took in the bare walls. “This is your room?” she asked.

“Mm-hmm,” Carm replied.

“Are you sure?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, why?” he replied too defensively for her liking.

“You don’t have any posters or stuff in here. Where are your clothes?” she said, nose scrunched in disapproval.

Placing her bag on the floor, Carm scratched the back of his neck before indicating down the hall. “I…uh….I keep everything in the living room."

“Why?” Eva asked, thinking it was really weird this man had his own room, but never put anything in it. She had two rooms she'd decorated with all her important possessions. She thought about the stars on her ceiling at her dad's apartment and the rows of stuffed animals lining the bed at her mom's house.

“I dunno, the living room has a tv,” Carm mumbled as though that might serve as an answer. However, Eva continued to bore a hole into him and it unnerved him how many questions she asked. He thought she would be easier to look after.

“Look, your dad said you gotta go to bed. So, here’s your bed,” he said, pointing at the mattress.

“Ok,” she nodded and Carm breathed a sigh of relief. “But I need a bedtime story,” she stated, eyes wide and hopeful.

“A story?” Carm said with a gulp.

Eva nodded vigorously as she plopped down on the mattress and patted the space beside her.

Carm ran a hand through his disheveled hair, feeling the ache in his gut and nodded. “Ok, yeah. A story….lemme think a minute,” he said, trying to remember something suitable for a child. What the fuck would Richie say, he thought? Probably something about the epic bar fight he'd gotten into alongside Mikey on St. Paddy's Day back in '02. Fuck, he couldn’t tell her that. Think, Carm! Tell the kid something wholesome, something fucking normal!

“Ah…once upon a time...” Yeah stories started like this, he knew they did. Keep going asshole, she’ll be asleep any minute now, he thought. “There were three bears...” Bears, yes! Bears were good. “They lived in a house and there was a little girl who broke in because she was like super rude or somethin’ and she couldn’t wait to go to sleep.” Wait…fuck, he was tired. How did the story go?

Eva giggled. “Do you mean Goldilocks and The Three Bears?” she asked in a pitying tone.

“That’s the one!” Carm nodded.

“You’re not telling it right!” she scolded him.

“I’m not?” he asked with a chuckle.

“No!” she squealed. “The bears leave their porridge to cool and then Goldilocks comes to their house. She tries their porridge, then their chairs, then their beds!” she giggled.

“You should tell the story, then!” Carm said with a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

Eva yawned, “I should!”

“You’re tired,” Carm pointed out.

“I’m not!” Eva objected, bouncing on the bed.

“Ok, you’re not. But if you go to sleep now, I promise I’ll make you whatever you want to eat in the morning. What do you like?” Carm asked, voice dripping with desperation.

Eva thought for a moment and eyes glistening with mischief asked, “Anything?”

“Anything!" Carm promised, hoping for sleep in the near future.

“Alright, I want chocolate chip pancakes then. As many as I want!” she screamed.

Carm held his ears and nodded. “Ok, ok. Chocolate chip pancakes. As many as you want. Just go to sleep, ok?”

Eva nodded in agreement and Carm shut out the light before tip toeing out of the room.

——————————

The next morning Carm woke to Eva pouncing on him, shaking his whole body with the force of a child giddy with excitement.

“Carmy, Carmy, wake up! You promised me pancakes!” she cried eagerly.

Sunlight had barely begun to stream thru the kitchen window, orange rays bathing the tiles in pale light as Carm sat up on the sofa dazed and confused.

“What time is it?” he asked, shaking his head.

“Time to get up and make me breakfast!” the five year old announced.

“Right,” Carm announced with a cough, before rolling off the sofa toward the kitchen. He wanted a cigarette and a cup of coffee first, but gave up on the idea before his feet hit the floor.

Eva clapped her hands, blonde hair dancing in the early morning light as she watched Carm drag a skillet from the bottom cabinet.

She opened the refrigerator to find eggs and hauled the carton to the counter with a slight grunt. “Here ya go,” she proclaimed proudly.

“Thank you,” Carm replied, surprised she knew what ingredients to bring.

“I help Daddy sometimes,” she responded with a shrug.

“That’s good,” he said.

“You know what else we need?” he asked.

She shook her head and he hoisted her onto the counter to show her what other ingredients were required for their breakfast. As they continued their work, Carm found himself smiling. Eva was a smart girl and he enjoyed her company.

“Time to flip the first one,” he told her and she edged the spatula under the pancake as he’d shown her. However, she flicked her wrist too harshly, sending the pancake flying through the air. It would have landed on the floor if not for Carm’s quick reflexes, catching it midair and redirecting it back to the skillet.

"Shit! shit! shit!" he exclaimed as the hot pancake made contact with his palm.

"You shouldn't say that," Eva scolded, holding her finger up to his face.

Carm inhaled deeply before agreeing, "You're right. Wanna try that again, chef?”

“Yes, chef!” she said with an eager grin.

“Alright, go again, hot shot!” he encouraged and she tried once more, landing in the pan this time.

“I did it, Carmy!” she yelled.

“Yeah, you did, kiddo! Good job!” he praised as the phone began to ring.

“One minute, ok?” he told her. “You got this?” he asked.

“Yup,” she replied, confidently.

Carm crossed to the other side of the kitchen to grab his cell, glancing over his shoulder to keep an eye on Eva. When he picked up, Richie was on the line, “Cousin, I got bad news…”

#the bear fanfic #the bear imagine #carmen berzatto #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto x fanfic #carmen berzatto x imagine #the bear #richie jerimovich #the bear spoilers #carmy berzatto

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