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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 20 days

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Part I: The Prophecy — June 25, 2011

Part I: On her daily morning run, Y/N wonders if she’ll ever have someone who wants her simply company. Spencer promises her just that, the only catch: she has to wait seven years.

Rating: Eventual smut, fluff and longing

Word Count: 3.5K

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My Mind Turns You Into Folklore: The Prophecy — June 25, 2011

Running, somehow, still made her feel like a child. Perhaps there was something unadulterated and carefree about losing yourself in the pounding of pavement. When Y/N felt the wind rush in her ears and the familiar burn throughout her body, she truly felt alive.

Her entire body ached— no, screamed— as she approached her fifth mile for the day’s session. For Y/N running wasn’t about getting to the destination fastest, but about finishing the race altogether.

She wished she could apply such wisdom to very particular aspects of her life. Namely, her love life. For Y/N, relationships with men were unpleasantly predictable. From terrible blind dates with friends who she honestly can’t tell if they meant well to men with habits so strange Y/N could only plead insanity by a drunken state as to why she entertained even a second glance. Unfortunately, for her the sea of men seemed to solely be comprised of rather the unfortunate sort of men that made her skin crawl.

Her knees burned as her mind ran through the five weddings and babies that were impending. Between cousins, college friends, and even her own sister all either, Y/N never more lonely than when she was surrounded by her people. There was something particularly voyeuristic about watching those you love move along the carousel while you’re left in the dust. She was a casual observer, marooned to the sidelines. And someone where along the way she forgot to even care.

Her chest burned as she wondered where her aunt, a woman born and forged from pure spite and hefty lack of tolerance for anything progressive, would sit her at her cousin’s wedding. Y/N heaved forward imagining what would be worse; the discarded old widow’s table with wives whose husbands’ expiration date had come and passed. Or with her unruly nephews who would have to be wrestled into a tiny tuxedo and bribed with fried food and the majesty of Red40 to maintain the semblance of civility.

Being 27, husbandless, boyfriendless, and childless didn’t usually bother Y/N. She loved her peace. But somehow it put her into this plane of existence where she straddled youth and adulthood. She had one foot jammed deep into the rich, sodden earth of childhood and one toe dipping too all too calm to be safe waters of adulthood. Yet being uncoupled was as if she purchased overnight shipping to the elephant graveyard.

It was antiquated. It was downright sexist, yet there was a small part of her heart and her entire being that craved to be taken care of by a man. She wanted someone to bring her flowers just because, to hug her from behind while she stirred soup for dinner on a chilly day, to brush her hair from her face as he brought her to the brink of pleasure time and time again.

There was only so much her vibrator could do.

But a heart that ached to be loved, that problem didn’t come with a WebMD link. There wasn’t a quick and easy fix to change something that defined her on a molecular level.

She savored the sweet breeze that reminded her of summer and childhood. The houses, various shades of blue, gray, and beige blurred past as she maintained her steady pace.

Y/N rounded the corner and pounded the pavement that led to Betsy’s Cape Cod. She was the Head Librarian and took Y/N under her rather Mother Goose-like wing three years ago when she took the position at the small, sleepy library. A suburb of Quantico, many of the patrons were families in public service.

She even stumbled across someone who quickly became her best friend, Spencer. He was some sort of former child prodigy turned adult wunderkid. After racking up more diplomas than most extended families collect, Spencer worked as a special agent for the FBI. But looking at him, you would never have guessed. He was timid and shy in a boyish way that made him seem much younger than 32. He was tall and lanky, yet despite his slender frame he seemed to completely light up every single room he walked into.

Both Betsy and Spencer buried themselves into the fabric of her life. Betsy sat on the front porch, slowly swaying on the large, wooden swing. A crocheted blanket lay over her lap, keeping her warm under the brisk morning’s chill.

“Y/N!” Betsy called, as she ascended the stairs with a bright smile, “Dearie, it’s far too cold for you to run out here.”

“I could say the same about you, Bets,”

Betsy dismissed Y/N with a coy smile and a wave of her hand. “It’s good for my old bones to get a little chill. Make sure everything is in working order.”

Betsy scooted over on the porch swing, making more than enough room for Y/N to sit.

“That tall kid? Hmm, Spencer? Yes. Spencer. Was in there looking for you yesterday. Poor kid’s entire day was ruined when I told him you were on a date. Now, is there a reason why you didn’t tell me you didn’t tell your best friend?” Betsy asked, not hesitating to ask a question that went straight for the jugular.

Y/N offered Betsy a weak smile. “There wasn’t anything to tell him. He’s not interested in my love life. We talk about books. And work. And… I don’t know…”

Betsy nodded, but her pointed look pressed Y/N to continue. There wasn’t anything romantic between her and Spencer, but that wasn’t to say the connection wasn’t the most important thing in her life. When she met him three years ago he simply waltzed into her life; a tall, gangly man with a large appetite for baked goods and an excellent taste in literature.

“Besides, he has a thing for his coworker. Even though she hardly acknowledges his existence.”

From the time she met Spencer, he constantly was talking about his teammates. Growing up, Spencer didn’t have a stable family life. His mother tried her best, while his father never tried at all. He grown up not knowing what it was like to belong anywhere and now he finally found something resembling a family.

JJ was blonde and skinny and perfect and Spencer was completely enamored with her. Y/N met her only a couple of times, the first after a football game. She shared a plate of cheese fries and gravy with Spencer’s other coworker, Penelope as Spencer attempted to spout an almanac’s worth of facts about football to JJ.

“Hmm,” Betsy murmured, swinging back and forth. “Well, he said he has to talk to you about something. Maybe he’s getting to his senses, finally.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, sipped some of the ice cold lemonade Betsy handed her, and gave her a pointed smile.

“This isn’t a romance novel, Bets. You’ve been sneaking too many of those bodice rippers.”

She stood up and felt some relief as her weary muscles stretched. Betsy waved another annoyed hand.

“Quiet down, Missy. I’ve had my chance at love. And I fully intend on you and Spencer being an item. My Arnold, may that old bastard rest in peace, never gave me children, so you and that boy are my only chance to fill this house with grandkids.”

“Oh my God, Betsy,” Y/N groaned, her head tossed back, “It’s not like that between us. And I promise you, it never will be.”

Y/N took off before Betsy had the chance to respond. But she couldn’t shake the funny feeling tugging at her heartstrings. She thought that maybe if she just focused her mind on feeling the wind blow her hair and her body burn as the third mile turned into a fifth, she could wash away the thoughts of one or two little children sitting on Betsy’s porch, sandwiched in between her and Spencer.

***

Gary, as it turned out, wasn’t a nice guy. First of all, he showed up precisely 23 and a half minutes late and hardly bothered to greet her as he sat down at their two seater table. He barked a drink order to the waitress, who graciously threw Y/N a sympathetic smile.

“So you work at Walter Reed?” Y/N asked, attempting to make conversation with the man seated in front of her. He was a couple years her senior and an Attending Emergency Room Doctor. On paper Gary seemed wonderful. He had a nice family; older sisters were always a green flag in Y/N’s book and seemed to have a basic grasp of personal hygiene practices.

Gary mumbled as the waitress brought him his drink: whisky on rocks. He downed it in about three minutes and signaled for the waitress to return.

“Sorry,” Gary apologized, his voice so close to resembling being embarrassed, but it, somewhere along the line, made a beeline in the opposite direction, “There was some bitch in the ER today complaining about how her boyfriend didn’t believe her when she told him she was pregnant. Took me a god damn hour to shut her up. Jesus, reminds me why I don’t date.”

Y/N felt her face freeze. It was like his harsh words poured ice water over her shoulders. Her skin practically crawled as Gary’s carelessness settled in. Wasn’t this a date? Or was this simply the means for Gary to get into her pants.

“Hold up,” Y/N said, gesturing with her hand held up to stop Gary’s rant, “I was under the impression this was a date. Is it not?”

Gary shrugged. “As long as there’s a happy ending with you, babe I don’t give a fuck.”

He was crass. Y/N was far from a prude. She enjoyed her time in college and didn’t mind the occasional quick one night stand when the opportunity presented itself, but there would be something completely debasing and revolting about sleeping with the man sitting before her.

“I think you’ve gotten the wrong impression.” Y/N said, her words clipped and stern: there wasn’t room for Gary to mix up any bit of her message. “I’m not looking for a fuck-buddy. And even if I was, it certainly wouldn’t be you. We’ve been sitting here for all of twelve minutes and you’ve already drank two whiskys, been rude to the waitress, insulted a patient, and offended me.”

Gary, in a lackadaisical way that could only be described as a fuckboy with the worst case of Peter Pan syndrome, shrugged his shoulders. He downed the rest of his second whisky, “You’re a frigid bitch anyway.”

He left.

And Y/N laughed. Then she ordered two slices of double chocolate cheesecake and asked the waitress where the closest liquor store was.

***

Silently, she cursed Spencer’s charming love of buildings with character. She bounded up the steps to his apartment, the plastic bag with the two slices of cheesecake banged against her leg. Her other hand clutched the neck of a cheap, screw top rose.

Her date, disastrous, was nearly comical, and she couldn’t wait to recount the details to Spencer.

They share a sort of sadistic penchant for relaying moments for their occasional first dates. Typically, Y/N had more than Spencer. On the rare occasion Spencer did have a date, Y/N found herself trying to explain that any girl in her right mind would attempt to flirt with Spencer, but he refused to see her points.

Not bothering to knock, Y/N opted to use the spare key Spencer gave her. She figured he’d either still be working at the office or would be too engrossed in his latest fantasy novel to bother answering the door.

Spencer’s apartment was painted a dusty, sage green. The farthest wall was lined with built-in bookshelves. A prewar relic, Spencer’s style mixed perfectly with the vintage quality embedded within the walls.

Up until recently, Spencer’s kitchen was hardly used. But Y/N had taken it upon herself to teach Spencer the basics in prepping meals. He was a quick study, as with almost everything he tried. And it gave her some peace knowing he would be able to provide himself something more satiating than granola bars and frozen lasagna.

“Spencer! Spence!” Y/N called out, dipping her head into Spencer’s second bedroom. There was a queen bed in there with a cream colored quilt splashed out on the bed.

On late nights spent watching old, black and white movies or binging episodes of The Twilight Zone and The X-Files, she would crash there. It was a fight for her to even concede to allow Spencer to purchase the queen bed. Y/N claimed that she was fine just sleeping on the couch, but Spencer insisted that she sleep in a bed.

And if Y/N had been born into a braver soul, she would’ve suggested they share his bed three years ago.

Spencer shuffled out of his bathroom, eyes red and weary. He wore a tattered Cal-Tech shirt and plaid pajama pants. He wore his glasses. They rested on the bridge of his nose and made him lose at least four or five years on his already young looking face.

“She’s pregnant.”

“I brought wine. And chocolate cheesecake.” Y/N replied, kicking her shoes off. “And you better have done laundry already because I am not sleeping in this dress. I feel ridiculous in it.”

Spencer’s eyes raked over Y/N’s frame, as if he was internally debating his thoughts on her outfit. His brow furrowed. “You’re date?”

“Asshole.” Y/N said, walking into the kitchen. She plucked two wine glasses from Spencer’s cabinet and two plates. “Arrogant and only wanted a quick fuck.”

His voice disappeared as he went into his room for a change of pajamas. They were freshly washed. She continued to listen to Spencer as she shut the bathroom door and changed behind. His voice was no longer muffled when she came out of the bathroom, but she did notice how Spencer’s eyes still were heavy with something unfamiliar when he looked over her baggy, old pajama-clad frame.

“You’re not the girl for that.” Spencer commented, reaching for the corkscrew. His large hands twisted around the device and the bottle of wine made a satisfying pop.

“You don’t know that.” Y/N countered, her defiance made a crop of red appear on Spencer’s cheeks. “Besides, that’s not the point. JJ’s pregnant. With that New Orleans guy’s baby?”

He nodded. It was as if grief washed over Spencer as Y/N changed the conversation. She knew that Spencer was harboring feelings for JJ. Jennifer was nearly perfect in every way. The only imperfect thing about her was that she didn’t realize how perfect Spencer was. He would’ve adored JJ if he got the chance. He nearly did.

“And how do you feel about that?”

Spencer groaned, pouring himself a healthy cup of rosé. “Unsure. It’s not like I’m going to confront her about this. She’s practically engaged to Will. And now there’s a baby in the picture? A baby who’s very well going to grow up seeing me as Uncle Spencer.”

He sounded exhausted. Y/N touched his hand and squeezed. She understood the pained loneliness that plagued Spencer’s voice. “I don’t love JJ anymore. It’s just, my whole life I felt like I was so far beyond my peers. And now? They all finally have caught up, this time the tables have turned. God, I’m excited when a girl smiles at me, let alone goes on a date with me.”

Weakly, Y/N smiled. She sipped her rose, “So it’s more of feeling like you’re far beyond in life? Despite having two PhDs and like three undergrad degrees? You’re one of the most accomplished men I know, Spencer. And we all move along at our own pace. Don’t compare JJ’s story to yours.”

He nodded, spooning a bite of the double chocolate cheesecake. “It’s just…I’m nearly 32. And now I’m watching JJ and Hotch and Morgan talk about babies and husbands and wives and houses. And I can’t help but wonder if I’ll be lucky enough to get that one day. Sometimes… I think I’m too me for anyone to fall in love with me.”

Y/N felt her heart shatter into a million little pieces as Spencer’s honest confession striked her entire system. She wanted to reach out and push away the stray curl that hooked itself in front of his eyebrow. She wanted to reach out and wipe away his tears. She wanted to tell her friend that if no one married him, she would.

She stalked off the to couch, needing a stable place to sit. Her chocolate cheesecake stuck to the roof of her mouth and the bitter rosé did nothing to remove it.

“Holy shit, Spencer. Do you not realize that you’d make any girl happy? You’ll find her one day, I know it. And if you don’t, we can just say fuck it and get married. I mean, I know it wouldn’t be romantic love, but we could at least live together. Through a big fancy party and get dressed up nice and getting drunk on mojitos with my best friend. My person? Sounds fun.”

“You mean that?” Spencer asked, half in disbelief and half in wonderment. “You mean that we’ll get married if neither of us have someone…say seven years from now?”

She must’ve drank more than she thought as she waited for Gary to ruin their date. “I meant it. But why seven?”

A smile toyed on Spencer lips. She noticed the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

“It’s my lucky number.”

Her lips were so loose that it threatened to crack open her heart. She had a nasty habit of wearing that on her sleeve.

She gave Spencer a sheepish look as his eyes met hers. He looked half between incredulous and hopeful. His fingers ran across the rim of his wine glass as the wine sloshed around. It mirrored Y/N’s stomach.

“Is this idea like bad shit crazy?” Y/N asked. “I mean it. I mean, why not. It’s not so different from what we do now. Just all the time. And I’d be thrilled to be spiritually required to spend more time with you.”

“Should we….shake hands or something. I’m not the biggest fan of that, but I think my wife would serve as an exception to the rule. To every rule I’ve got?”

Y/N laughed. She felt the wine creep up a nice, warm flush against her skin. It matched the light and easy way her limbs felt. It might have very well been the wine, but there wasn’t much of anything that could trump laughing with your best friend. Especially when that best friend slipped and called you his wife.

Her feet somehow ended up in Spencer’s lap. His thumb rubbed gently against her ankle, barely touching her bare skin. Yet it sent shockwaves that she didn’t quite understand.

The corners of Spencer’s eyes crinkled as he reciprocated that laugh. They shared it and Y/N had the strangest desire to bottle it up. She wanted to store this moment in her mind and come back to it. One day. Some day.

“We’ll get married,” Spencer started speaking as if it was a prophecy that he could set in stone, “if neither of us has anyone, we’ll enter this rather odd, rather complex, yet completely entirely normal and simple marriage in seven years?” His sweet, yet coy smile was boyish, it only reminded Y/N just how far away 35 was for her.

“Should we draft up a contract?”

“Have your lawyers contact my lawyers. I never sign documents without the proper legal support. In the meantime, could we settle on our first stipulation: never watching a new episode of our current favorite show without the other?”

“I agree to the terms and conditions you’ve set out.” Y/N said. She grabbed the blanket that rested on the back of the couch as Spencer turned off the lamp light.

“Oh and I washed the sheets in your room. I used the detergent you like. And your pajamas. The lavender vanilla one with the scent beads?” He flipped on an episode of The Twilight Zone.

She smiled from the way Spencer naturally called the guest room her bedroom. There was something very domestic and peaceful about him using her favorite detergent to wash the sheets in her room in his apartment. It resembled the exact something that she was craving: being taken care of.

She sipped her rose again, watching as her friend smiled at the gray scale painted on the screen. It was too bad she only had to weight over half a decade to feel it and not feel guilty and like she was lying to herself.

—

Taglist:

@reidsbookclub @boldlyvoid @mrs-dr-reid @reid-ingandweeping @candlesandsoftrain @foxy-eva @queermaxwooo

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction

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babymetaldoll · 10 months

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"Little Miss Reid, entrepreneur" (Spencer Reid x fem!reader x their daughter)

Summary: Spencer and reader help their little daughter with her very first lemonade stand, and the whole BAU family gets together. Requested: Nope Warnings: This might be too fluffy: Reader discretion is advised. Category: Hardcore fluff . A/N: Hello! I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins Summer Sunshine Fic Challenge, I hope you enjoy it! Promp: Character helps their child with their first entrepreneurial venture... a lemonade stand. They weren't expecting half the damn FBI to show up. Masterlist

Summer vacation was an interesting time at the Reid’s house. With both Spencer and (Y/N) having only two weeks off from work, they had to plan in advance and schedule all their activities, to make sure they had enough time to do everything their kids wanted to do with them during the break. Raven was already five years old, and Vicent was already two, and both Spencer and (Y/N) really wanted to make it up to them for always being away, solving cases with the BAU.

That’s why that year, their “Summer fun plans” included a trip to the grand canyon, visiting lots of museums, going to a water park or two, and most importantly: helping Raven with her first lemonade stand.

The little girl was obsessed with the idea of running her own business ever since she had visited her cousin Henry, and he had a little lemonade stand outside his house. Uncle Will had explained to her that that was Henry’s way to earn some money to get a new bike, and that was enough to plant a seed in the little girl’s brain.

- “Dad, remember when you said I couldn’t get a pony ‘cos they are too expensive?”- Raven asked her father later that night, after reading a bedtime story together.

- “Yes, they are too expensive and we don’t have enough room to keep a pony here. Why do you ask?”

- “‘Cos… you know how Henry wants a new bike and he has a lemonade stand to save money and get it?”- suddenly Spencer knew exactly where his daughter was going with that question.

- “Yes, I know.”

- “I was thinking…”- Raven made a pause and looked at her father, who was trying not to laugh.- “I know I can’t get a pony, but what if I have a lemonade stand and save a lot of money and you take me to Barnes and Noble and I get to buy all the books I can afford?”

Spencer never saw that plot twist coming. Of course, there was no way he could say “no” to his kid. Raven was very smart and she knew her dad would be thrilled with that idea. So, after a long logistic debate with his wife, and a talk with Nono Rossi, Spencer and (Y/N) scheduled a day. That Saturday, Raven was having her first lemonade stand in David’s front yard. They decided to do it there ‘cos it was a more family neighborhood than their street. You don’t usually see kids with lemonade stands in front of an apartment building, do you?

While (Y/N) went grocery shopping with their kids and got everything they needed to make lemonade, Spencer asked for professional assistance from a Lemonade Stand professional: Matt Simmons.

- “So, did you ever sell lemonade as a kid?”- Matt asked Spencer as they set all the materials and tools in Rossi’s backyard.

- “No, never. I really wasn’t into outdoor activities, as you might imagine.”- Spencer replied and Matt chuckled. - “But once one of my neighbors set one, and my father forced me to go and buy a cup.”

- “Why did he force you?”- Matt questioned, confused.

- “He wanted me to have friends my age. When I was seven, my best friend was the librarian.”- Spencer explained and looked around - “So, where do we start?”

- “Did you get spray paint?”

- “Yes, all of Raven’s favorite colors.”- Spencer grabbed a few cans and tossed one to his friend. Rossi walked over and left a cooler filled with cold beers.

- “I’ll leave this here, and in case you need me, I will pretend I can’t hear you while I spend my morning reading in my studio with the AC on.”

- “Thank you for letting us do this here, Rossi.”- Spencer smiled at him as he shook one of the spray paint cans.

- “Anything for mi principessa.”- David replied and waved as he walked back into the house.- “Good luck, kids!”

Spencer had been right: Matt Simmons was a lemon stand pro. In two hours they had a green and lavender stand made with four wooden crates. One rod on each side of the stand helped hold a banner (Y/N) had made the night before that read “Raven’s Lemonade” and on the front, Spencer hung another banner that read: “Lemonade: ¢50”

- “All set!”- Matt smiled proudly and tapped on Spencer’s back a few times. - “How do you feel?”

- “Excited, pleased with our work… nervous?”

- “Why are you nervous? Your kid is going to be thrilled!”

- “I know, but… what if no one shows up? She would be broken-hearted…”- Spencer sighed at the thought of his baby pouting, and Matt shook his head right away.

- “There is no way that could ever happen here. Not under this heat and not in Rossi's neighborhood. Elderly people are very supportive.”

- “Hey!”- Rossi argued, overhearing Matt’s comment on his way out. - “Who is elderly?”

- “Your neighbors!- Simmons explained right away, trying not to laugh.

Raven Reid yelled and jumped with excitement when she saw her lemonade stand. She ran around Rossi’s backyard, nearly hyperventilating. She hadn’t been so excited since Santa brought her the telescope she wanted.

- “It’s so pretty, daddy!!”- the little girl jumped into Spencer's arms and he caught her with a bear hug.

- “I’m glad you like it, birdie.”- he replied and kissed her chubby cheek. - “Did you and your mom get lots of lemons?”

- “Yes, and some lemon bars too, in case someone is hungry.”- the little girl explained.

- “Good idea, boo. Did you thank Nono Rossi for letting us set the stand in his front yard?”- the little girl shook her head and Spencer quickly set her down.- “Go tell him thank you.”- and off the girl went, running and yelling “Nono!” on her way into the house. Spencer stared at her as he stood in the middle of the backyard, putting all the tools Derek had given him a few years earlier back into the toolbox. His heart felt full of love knowing he could give his kids the childhood he never had.

- “Hey there, Bob the builder.”- (Y/N) walked out to the backyard and smiled at her husband. - “This looks amazing.”

- “Thank you.”- Spencer whispered and felt her lips on his immediately.

- “Raven is ecstatic, she wants to start making lemonade right now.” - and just in time, they heard the little girl’s voice calling for her mommy.

- “You heard the boss.”- Spencer whispered and kissed his wife one more time. Meanwhile, I’m gonna move this outside to the front yard.”

- “Great, Pen said she was gonna come and help around four, so we should be ready on time.”

When (Y/N) said Penelope Garcia was going to help, she pictured her friend slicing lemons and making lemonade along with her in Rossi’s kitchen. She never imagined her friend was going to… well… be Penelope Garcia, and take things over the top, as usual.

First, Garcia didn’t slice a lemon, she might as well have chopped the entire tree: she got to Rossi’s with homemade lemon cupcakes, lemon cake, lemon tart, and lemon cookies (lemon shaped, of course, and covered in yellow frosting). She had so many trays with goods, Luke was forced to help her. He picked her up and gave her a hand carrying everything over to Rossi’s.

- “Oh… my… good.”- (Y/N) whispered as she stared at the number of treats her friend had baked, piling on Rossi’s kitchen island.

- “I know, I might have gone a little over the top, but once I started, I didn’t know how to stop.”- Garcia apologized and smiled guilty at her friend, who only had one worry in her mind.

- “Ok, now I’m scared. How are we going to sell all this?”- (Y/N) asked, but Garcia dismissed her fears and shook her head immediately.

- “Don’t worry about that! I’m sure Raven is going to do great. We’ll charge a dollar for everything, so she won’t get confused with math.”

- “She is Spencer’s daughter”- (Y/N) chuckled as she spoke- “Math is not the problem. But Pen, I’m just scared no one is going to show up and she’ll feel discouraged. I don’t want my baby thinking she failed.”

- “Nonsense! It’s a lemonade stand, everybody loves a lemonade stand!”- Garcia replied and grabbed a fresh lemon- “Now, let’s make more lemonade!”

Raven ran out of Rossi’s front door carrying a stack of paper cups and a bag of paper straws. Right behind her, her mom carried a big glass dispenser filled with fresh lemonade. Raven’s little stand was ready and open to the public. A glass jar on the top of the counter was ready to be filled with the profit of the dar. Spencer stared at his daughter and took a few pictures with his phone. Garcia and Luke carried some of the sweets to start the sale, and Rossi opened his wallet.

- “Are you my first customer, nono?”- Raven asked, making her mom and dad chuckle.

- “I am, mi principessa. Can I have a cup of lemonade and a cookie, please?”- Rossi placed a dollar and 50 cents in the jar, and Raven’s eyes shone with joy as she poured her first order.

- “I’m gonna need a lemonade too.”- Luke said as he paid and waited for the girl to give him a cup as well.

- “Enjoy, uncle Luke.”- the little girl said and turned to her little brother Vincent, who was playing on a blanket on the grass their mother had set for him. - “Vinnie? Do you want some lemonade? For you, it’s on the house.”- the little girl grabbed her brother’s sippy cup and filled it with lemonade, as her parents filmed the entire moment on their phones.

JJ and Will showed up a few minutes later with Henry and Michael to support Raven’s little business. The kids played on the street with their skateboards, as Raven sat behind her stand, waiting for her customers.

A few of Rossi’s neighbors walked toward the lemonade stand, and Raven was shining. Her parents sat with little Vincent on his blanket and watched from a safe distance as their daughter took care of her paying customers. Meanwhile, Luke and García walked to the backyard with Rossi, Will, and JJ to enjoy the pool.

- “Fresh lemonade, get some lemonade”- Raven said to everyone who walked down the sideway and passed her stand. Everybody stopped and bought something for the little girl, she looked adorable while selling her products. But at a certain point during the afternoon, no one was coming. And Raven looked at her money jar feeling discouraged.

- “Mama… what if no one else comes?”- the little girl walked toward her parents and sat on (Y/N)’s lap. Her mother wrapped her arms around her and kissed her cheek a few times, making the girl chuckle.

- “Come on, it’s still early. It’s been what? just one hour? I promise by the end of the afternoon you are gonna be sold out of all the things you have in your stand.”- (Y/N) smiled and kissed her daughter’s cheek one more time before she stood up and walked back to her stand to wait for her customers. Spencer waited until Raven was far from them and turned to his wife. He didn’t have to say anything, she knew what he was thinking. It didn’t need saying. The two of them shared the same fear.

But after just a few more minutes, something weird happened. Anderson parked his car in front of Rossi’s and waved at the Reid’s as he walked to Raven’s stand and ordered a lemonade and a slice of lemon pie for him and his boyfriend. And less than a minute later, Andi Swan’s car parked down the street, and she showed up with her husband to get a lemonade and a lemon cupcake. Not only that, but Matt Simmons, his wife, and all his kids showed up, excused themselves for being late, and ordered lemonade and lemon cookies for the entire family. Raven was on fire, and her parents were… confused to say the least.

Where were all those people coming from? The cars kept parking: Ashley Seaver showed up with her kid and husband and got lemonade and lemon cake for her family. She hugged (Y/N) and Spencer and introduced them to her family, while more FBI agents kept showing up.

Alex Blake parked and nearly ran to the Reids as her husband followed close behind. Kate Callahan showed up as well, with her kids and husband, and soon after, Tara Lewis came along. Raven got to ask her mom for help to serve all the customers, and soon Pen and Luke showed up with more sweets and to refill the lemonade jar. Somehow, what had started like a simple lemonade stand ended up being an FBI get-together family party.

(Y/N) turned to Spencer and the two of them stared at the scene in shock. Pen and Luke walked to them and Garcia smiled and waved at everybody.

- “What did you do?”- (Y/N) asked her friend and she simply giggled.

- “I might have sent a few emails to everybody at the Bureau and some former agents telling them your little Birdie had a little entrepreneur of her own, and encouraged them all to come.”- Garcia explained and smiled innocently.

- “Everybody is here! We only need Elle and Hotch and we’d have the biggest BAU reunion ever!”- (Y/N) looked around in disbelief and chuckled.

- “You are forgetting me, little mama.”- (Y/N) froze and turned around slowly. That voice. She could never forget that voice. Derek Morgan stood in front of her, holding Savannah's hand and a stroller with their little boy: Hank Spencer Morgan.

- “Derek!!”- (Y/N) jumped and ran to hug him, as he chuckled and wrapped his arms around her.

- “Mrs. Reid! I missed you so much!”

- “I missed you too!”- (Y/N) said and turned to Savannah, who opened her arms and wrapped her in a hug.- “And you are gorgeous!!”

Spencer stared at their reunion with the biggest smile on his face, holding Vincent in his arms.

- “Is that my little nephew? You haven’t sent pictures of him this week! He looks so much bigger! What are you feeding him?”- Morgan joked and looked at Spencer. - “You look like you could use a nap, boy wonder.”

- “Two kids are more work than chasing serial killers”- the young doctor replied and chuckled as Morgan hugged him, tapping his back a couple of times.- “I missed you.”

- “Me too, brother.”- Morgan replied and smiled at his friend- “But I’m sorry to say I’m not here for you, I’m here for my little princess. Where is she?”- Derek walked to the stand, waving at their former colleagues on his way until he reached Raven and held her in his arms.

- “Uncle Derek! You are here!!”- the little girl yelled and wide opened her eyes - “You have to help me with my stand!”

- “That’s what I am here for! Lemme see what your old man did here…”- Spencer stood behind his friend and waited for him to inspect the construction.

- “I’m proud, you used the right nail for the wood.”- Morgan said, nodding.

- “Of course I did.”- Reid replied, almost insulted

- “Who helped you?”- Derek asked, and before Spencer could deny getting any help, his daughter explained.

- “Uncle Matt said he had plenty of experience with lemonade stands, so he helped daddy.”

- “Simmons?”- Derek chuckled and turned to Reid.- “You two did a great job.”

- “Thanks.”- Spencer smiled and turned to Raven. - “So, what is your uncle Morgan going to have, birdie?”

- “For you, lemonade on the house, uncle Derek.”- the little girl said and handed him a paper cup. - “But if you want to eat anything, you are gonna have to pay, ‘cos auntie Penelope said we had to split the profits.”- Morgan tried not to laugh, but failed, as Raven stared at him, waiting for a reply.

- “If that’s the case, I’m gonna have one of everything, thank you very much.”- and the little girl’s face lit with excitement as soon as she heard those words.

The afternoon ended, the FBI agent returned to their cars, and the BAU family moved from Rossi’s front yard to the back. David, Derek, and Luke prepared a barbecue, the kids played in the backyard, and (Y/N) and Spencer put away the lemonade stand. Nothing was left, not even a cookie. The sale had been a complete success.

- “How much did she make?”- Mrs. Reid asked her husband, who held the money jar and shook his head.

- “Over three hundred.”

- “Wow… she is gonna go crazy with the books.”- and as (Y/N) said those words and finished cleaning the last jar that was left in the sink, Spencer stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

- “Thank you.”- he whispered in her ear and sighed.

- “What for?”

- “For giving me everything I ever dreamed of.”- (Y/N) turned around and stared at her husband for a few seconds. She then leaned in and kissed him sweetly.

- “Eeewww!”- Raven said as she saw her parents kissing as soon as she walked into the kitchen. - “Uncle Derek is right, you are always kissing.”

- “Hey! Come here-” (Y/N) commanded with a smile and the little girl giggled as she walked to her parents.- “It’s a good thing your parents are always kissing, and we are also always kissing your chubby cheeks!”- and as soon as she delivered that line, both Spencer and (Y/N) started kissing Raven’s cheeks.

Summer was soon going to end, but those happy memories were definitely going to last forever.

#Spencer Reid #Criminal Minds #Spencer Reid x fem!reader #Spencer reid x reader #DIWK #dad!Spencer Reid x reader #spencer reid x BAU!Reader #Criminal Minds fanfic #Spencer reid fanfic #Matthew Gray Gubler #MGG #mentioningmargins #babymetaldoll writes

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eddiemunsons80sbaby · 4 months

Text

Never Say Never

Chapter 8

Pairing: SingleDad!StevexReader

Summary: You are a 32 year old single mother, raising your seven year old son on your own. After being widowed at 30 and going out on awful dates with disgusting men for the past month, you have decided that you're giving up. You already had your great love. One person can't possibly get lucky enough to have two in their lifetime. But then your son starts playing baseball and the coach might just change your mind about that.

No posting schedule.

18+ only for eventual smut

Word Count: 7K

1 2 3 4 5 6 7

“Shit!” El yelled just before a massive thunk silenced them all, every head turning to find you lying on the deck as if you had fallen forward.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve muttered, racing to your side, dropping down to his knees and shooing away Miles who had run over to investigate. You were lying on your stomach, arms splayed to either side, your face resting on one cheek. He laid a hand on your cheek, brushing your hair back. “Honey? Hey?”

“She just went!” El shrieked, slightly panicked. “Her eyes rolled up into her head and I tried to grab her but she just fell forward!”

“Honey?” Steve tried again but received no response. As gently as possible, he placed his hands on your arms and rolled you to your back. A splash of red was painted across the side of your face and his stomach seized. “She's bleeding.”

“Holy shit!” Dustin shouted. “That’s a lot of blood.”

“Damn. Let me grab something to clean it up so we can see where it’s coming from,” Lucas told him before rushing into the house.

Steve looked up to see both young boys standing, frozen, their eyes wide with fear. Eli’s blue eyes swam with tears, completely focused on his mom and Steve wanted to kick himself for forgetting they were there. For not thinking about how scary this must be for not only his son but for Eli, to see his mom unconscious on the ground.

“She’s gonna be okay,” he assured them, cradling you in his lap, your head lolling to the side like a rag doll. “We’ll get this blood cleaned up and see what happened.”

Lucas came racing back, wet washcloth in his hand and Steve took it, carefully dabbing at the skin of your face, around your temple, not wanting to hurt you any further. As the red came away, he saw a small cut just above your eyebrow and released a long sigh of relief.

“Should we call an ambulance?” asked Mike, kneeling down next to him.

“No. It’s not nearly as bad as it looked. Head wounds bleed like a motherfucker but it’s just a small cut. I’ve got some butterfly bandages in the bathroom cabinet. Max, can you grab me one?”

The redhead nodded and disappeared into the house. Steve placed one of his arms under your neck and the other in the crook of your knee. He wasn’t going to leave you out here on the hardwood decking. He rose up onto his knees and then carefully lifted you off the ground, your body limp in his arms.

“What can I do?” asked Robin hesitantly.

“Nothing. Pretty sure you’ve done enough,” he snapped, feeling guilty when his best friend flinched. He knew she meant well but they wouldn’t be in this position if she hadn’t decided to meddle in shit that was absolutely none of her concern. He softened his tone as he looked back over at the boys. “I’m just taking her to the couch where she’ll be more comfortable. I think she just passed out. She’ll probably wake up in not too long.”

“She did this before,” Eli said as he trailed behind Steve into the house. “We were at the library getting books like we do every month. The librarian, Ms. White, was trying to get my mommy to take a book. She said it helped her when her mom died and she was talking about how hard it was to lose someone. My mommy went really white. She looked like a ghost. She was breathing really funny and then she fell to the ground. They called the ambulance and I got to ride in it to the hospital. It was really scary but she was okay. That’s when she told me that sometimes her feelings attack her.”

“Do you know if she sees a doctor about her feelings?” asked Max gently as she handed the bandage to Steve.

“Yeah. Aunt Janice got her to go after my daddy went to heaven. Mommy was crying in her bedroom a lot. She didn’t think I knew about it but I did. She still does it sometimes but not like then. Aunt Janice and Matt would come over and make dinner or play games with me and mommy would just disappear for a while. I think she didn’t want me to see how sad she was.”

“She was just trying to protect you because that’s what moms do.” Steve could hear the emotion in Robin’s voice as he tenderly placed the bandage over your wound, his best friend’s words tight. “That had to be really hard for her and for you.”

“Yeah but she’s a lot better now. She told me the doctor helped her. He gave her stuff to do. Like, sometimes she has to find three things to look at, three things to listen to, and three things to move like her fingers or toes when her feelings get too big to keep in her body.”

“It’s good that she’s so honest with you about what’s going on,” Max said, kneeling down in front of Eli. “When my dad left my mom she was a mess but she never talked to me about it. I knew she was hurting but I never knew how to help or what to do. It could be even more scary because I didn’t know what was going on when she’d just shut herself in her room. I had no idea she was feeling this big thing called depression so I just thought I was the problem. I know watching your mommy go through this might be scary but it’s way less scary when you know what it is. You’re such a good kiddo for understanding and trying to help her.”

“What you and your mom went through…” Dustin paused, sighing with a shake of his head. “My dad went to heaven, too, but I was even younger than you so I don’t really remember it. But my mom has never been with anyone else. She said he was her everything and she could never replace him.”

Steve closed his eyes, his hand on your forehead. The hardwood of the floor was making his knees ache but he couldn’t bring himself to move as he took in Dustin’s words. Maybe that was what was happening here. Maybe, even if you liked him, you knew you could never feel for him the way you felt for your husband.

Maybe Steve would never be able to be what you needed because what you needed was gone. How could he possibly compete with a ghost? Not just a ghost, but a ghost of a man who had been everything to you? It was clear, with how hard you'd taken his loss, how you still struggled with it, that you'd loved him deeply. He kept searching for his person but maybe you couldn’t be it for him because you'd already found your person even if fate had been cruel enough to take him away.

“Mommy’s always told me the truth. She says it’s just her and me now so we have to have each other’s backs and be honest with each other. I know she doesn’t like me to see she’s sad but if I ask her about it, she doesn’t lie. Is she…is she going to wake up?”

“Of course she is,” Dustin told him, placing his hand on Eli’s shoulder. “Her feelings just got a bit bigger than she could fight and now her body is resting for a bit.” He glanced over at Steve and then back to the boys. “You know what? How about we head down to the basement and I introduce you to DnD? Lucas? Mike?”

“Yeah!” Lucas exclaimed, overdoing the excitement. “Let’s do it!”

“Absolutely,” agreed Mike. “Jere tells us you’re a big fan of all things nerdy. You’ll fit right in with us, kid. Trust me, you’re going to love it.”

“You will!” Jeremiah beamed. “Uncle Dusty and Uncle Mike built me my own DnD table and they’ve been teaching me. We do campaigns twice a month and it’s really fun!”

Eli looked uncertainly toward his mother, clearly torn about leaving you, about going to have fun when you could be hurt. Sweet kid. It was so obvious how much he’d tried to pick up the mantle of man of the house even when that burden was far too large for his tiny shoulders. It was written all over that serious little face how deeply he felt the responsibility to take care of his mom. Steve gave him a wink and a smile.

“Go on. She’s going to be fine and I won’t leave her side until she wakes up and I know she’s okay. I’m going to take care of her for you. I promise.”

The little boy still looked conflicted but he followed the guys, looking back over his shoulder once more as if making sure that Steve was still right next to you. He was and he had no intention of moving until you knew you were alright.

“Steve…” began Robin.

He held up his hand, “Just don’t, okay. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. I know you were trying to look out for me but I don’t need you to. I don’t need a protector, Robin. I’m thirty-two years old.”

“But you never had one when you should have had one, Steve, and I think that’s why you sometimes make poor choices in life. I am always going to look out for you because you’re my best friend and I love you.”

“We all do,” Max added, dropping down into the chair across from him, pulling her knees into her chest. “She seems great. I really like her. We weren’t trying to freak her out or convince her not to see you. I swear. We just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

El sighed, plopping down on the floor, “Yeah. We’ve watched you struggle for so long and if anyone deserves to find happiness, it’s you. We just didn’t know her whole story…”

“Maybe you could have kept quiet until you did,” he shot back.

“Maybe we should have,” agreed Robin quietly. “I just…I knew she lost her husband but I didn’t know how recently it was and I just wanted to make sure that she wasn’t using you as a stepping stone, you know? You’re worth more than being someone’s rebound to help them get past their grief before they move on to someone else. You deserve better than that.”

A moan caught his attention and Steve’s head turned, watching as your eyes fluttered, your head turning slowly from side to side as you struggled to pull yourself back into consciousness. Everyone sat silent, leaning in, waiting for you to wake so they could see if you were okay.

“Hey honey?” Steve asked softly.

“Mmm…” you murmured, lids lifting, your eyes crossing as you tried to focus in on the source of the voice.

“Hey there,” Robin cooed softly from just over his shoulder. “You had us all worried for a minute there. So glad to see you waking up. Are you feeling okay? Do you need anything? Glass of water? Some aspirin? Maybe a snack?”

“Robin, give her a damn minute,” Steve sighed with a roll of his eyes. She just couldn’t help herself. She was already bad enough but when she felt guilty, she was even worse, tripping over her words and her own feet to make everything right.

His friend held her hands up in apology, taking a step back. She really did mean well. She had such a big heart and was one of the kindest people he knew but she was so unaware of what was appropriate at certain times. Her foot was permanently wedged in her mouth.

“Steve?” you asked in confusion, your eyes coming into focus, a little divot between your eyebrows. “What…what happened?”

“You passed out,” Robin told you, leaning in again. She really just could not stop herself.

“I did?”

“Yeah,” Max piped up from her spot in the chair. “You face planted right into the deck.”

“But don’t worry,” Robin added. “Steve cleaned up all the blood and he put a bandage on you so you’re good as new. Really. Never looked better.”

“Blood? I was bleeding?” You reached for your head, fingers searching, wincing when you hit the tender spot where your face had made contact with the hard pieces of cedar.

“Don’t touch it. It’s just a small cut,” assured Steve, taking your hand in his, pulling it away from the tender skin. “It bled a lot. You know, head wounds. I’m sure Eli ran into something when he was learning to walk. I know Jere did. He fell forward right into the corner of the wall. I freaked the hell out because he bled like he had been decapitated but once we got it stopped and cleaned up it was this itty bitty wound. It amazed me how something so small could bleed so much.”

“Probably have a hell of a bruise tomorrow though. That was a hard fall,” Robin muttered.

“Eli? Oh my god. Where is…?” You sat up quickly before Steve could stop you, your eyes crossing again. Your hands grabbed for his arms and he held onto you, easing you back onto the pillow.

“Whoa there. You whacked your head pretty good and you passed out. You might want to give it a second before you try getting up and when you do, maybe go slow, okay?”

“Eli,” you repeated.

“Eli is fine. He’s down in the basement with Jere and the boys. They’re teaching him all about their nerdy game, okay? He was worried about you but I assured him you’d be fine and they managed to distract him for a bit. You know, you’re going to have to stop falling down whenever you’re around me or I might have to start keeping a good hold on you whenever we’re together.”

Your eyes went wide, a soft gasp falling from those perfectly pink lips. Jesus, what was that color? It was like cotton candy at the fair, tempting and delicious, making his mouth water. He guaranteed no lipstick brand could ever duplicate it.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, your hand flying up to cover your eyes.

___________________________________________________________

The moments before you blacked out suddenly came rushing back to you and you wanted nothing more than for some natural disaster to hit at this moment. Preferably an earthquake that would create a massive fissure in the floor and swallow you whole. The girls telling you not to mess with Steve’s heart, announcing he liked you, Eli telling everyone you liked him, stating you should go on a date. Shit. No wonder you'd passed out. That was enough to make anyone’s anxiety skyrocket.

“Hey, are you okay?” came Steve’s voice, so close, too close. You needed to get the hell out of here. “Do you need to go to the hospital and have someone look at your head?”

“No, I…”

Robin interrupted. “Are you sure? You were out for a little while. We weren’t sure if we should call an ambulance or not. Eli said this happened to you before in a library but you were okay and so we thought you just passed out. And the cut on your head is pretty itty bitty but if you need a doctor we can totally take you to a doctor.”

“No. No. I’m fine,” you managed, pressing your hands down into the couch in an effort to sit up.

Two strong hands came to your shoulders, pressing you back down, “No, you’re not. I mean, you will be but maybe you shouldn’t be trying to sit up so soon. We don’t need you passing out again.”

“I’m not going to…look, I need to go. I need to go home. I need to get out of here.”

“What are you talking about?” scoffed Max. “You really think we’re going to let you drive after you hit your head and blacked out for ten minutes?”

“I’ll call a cab,” you insisted.

You swallowed hard as bile rose up from your stomach, acid scorching your throat. Whether it was from mortification or passing out you had no idea but you knew you needed to get out of here. You needed space. You needed air. You needed to be as far away from all these people as you possibly could. These people who’d just witnessed what would probably go down as the most mortifying moment of your life.

“Honey, you’re not calling a cab,” Steve stated, his tone resolute, pulling out the dad voice on you, trying to let you know that he wasn’t giving you an option.

“Yeah, I mean you really shouldn’t be alone right now. You could have a concussion for all we know. You could wind up with personality changes or something and then Eli will be standing there wondering where his mom went and who this stranger is in his home. Or you could have memory loss and not even remember who he is or who Steve is and then how will you two ever move out of the friend zone if you just go back to the start space again?”

“Robin, I do not have a concussion,” you groaned. “I am not going to lose my memory. Trust me. I wish I could forget some of the shit that happened today but I have not. Lucky me. I am pretty sure I’m good. I will call a cab, Eli and I will go home, and I will rest.”

“But what if you go to sleep and then you never wake up?” Robin pressed. “It happens. People hit their heads, they think they’re fine, and then boom! They’re just dead.”

“Oh my god!” shrieked Max. “She’s not going to die. Can you stop freaking her out? I think you’ve done enough of that today already.”

“I’m not trying to. I swear. I just don’t want anything to happen to her. She might be Steve’s only chance at actually finding happiness and I like her.”

“Jesus, Robin!” Steve growled, rising from the ground so fast it made your head spin a bit watching him. His fingers clenched into claws in front of him and then he inhaled a large breath, releasing it slowly before speaking again, his hands now resting on his hips. “Look, I need you to go, okay?”

Robin’s eyes went wide, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with me. I know I should shut up but I can’t seem to stop talking. Please don’t be mad at me.” She looked down at you. “Please don’t hate me. I suck at social cues but I swear, I am a really good person and I like you and once you get to know me, I am not as bad as this is making it seem and I’d really like us to be friends.”

“I don’t hate you,” you told the distraught girl. “I don’t even know you, Robin. How can I hate you?”

“Steve, please…”

“Look, I’m not mad. I just…this has been a lot. This has been way, way too much. Okay? She’s had a lot of shit thrown at her all at once and she just passed out and hit her head. I just think that maybe she could use some peace and quiet.”

“I just need to go home. There’s plenty of peace and quiet there,” you argued again.

“I doubt that. Remember I have a seven year old boy too? They provide neither peace or quiet and I agree with Robin. I don’t think you should be alone right now. I would feel a whole lot better if you just stayed here so I know you’re alright.” He looked down at you, pressing his hands together in front of him. “Please? For me?”

His eyes, those swirls of warm color, like a forest of green leaves colliding with the brown of the branches, implored you to just give in and you found yourself helpless to refuse.

“Okay, fine,” you agreed softly, trying to ignore the warmth that ignited in your belly as he smiled at you.

“Thank you. There, Robin. She’s staying here. So you don’t have to worry about anything. I’ll watch her memory, her personality, and her breathing, okay? I will make sure that she stays alive. You guys can all go.”

“You sure you don’t need any help?” asked El.

“I’m sure. I have never been more sure of anything in my life. Thank you but I got it.”

“Alright, well let’s gather all the boys then and get out of their hair.” El leaned forward, placing a hand on your arm. “I’m really sorry about all of this and I hope you feel better.”

“Thank you.”

“Lucas! Mike! Dustin! Let’s go! Steve’s kicking us out before Robin can humiliate him any further in front of the girl he likes!” Max yelled from the top of the basement stairs, making you wince.

“Nice, Max. Real nice,” muttered Steve with a roll of his eyes.

The sound of footsteps, like the roar of a stampede, filled the house as five boys all came tromping up the stairs. Eli hit the top, his eyes lighting up when he saw you with your eyes open, racing to his mom and flinging himself down on top of you.

“Oof!” you laughed, wrapping your arms around your sweet boy. “I’m okay, buddy.”

“That was scary!” His voice was muffled, pressed against your neck but you could still feel the tremble in his little body.

“I know it was and I am so sorry that happened but I am okay. My feelings just got the better of me that time, buddy.”

“Damn, glad to see you’re awake,” Dustin huffed, flashing you an adorable grin that only made his cheeks even more round. “You scared the shit out of all of us for a minute.”

“So I was told.”

“So, why are we getting kicked out?” asked Lucas, turning to Robin. “Did I hear your name? What the hell did you say now?”

Robin just shrugged, a guilty smile on her face. Max sighed, rolled her eyes and grabbed onto the back of Lucas’s shirt, dragging him toward the door.

“What didn’t she say?” El laughed, taking Mike’s hand. “It was really nice to meet you. Hope we get to see you again, if Steve lets us anywhere near you.”

“Me too,” you replied, lifting your hand and giving everyone a wave while keeping your other hand firmly around your son who was still clinging to you like you were a raft on turbulent waters.

“Seriously?” muttered Mike as they made their way out the door. “What did Robin say?”

“Probably just what all of us are thinking,” Dustin replied, the door shutting behind him.

“Really sweetheart, I am okay,” you assured your son once again now that everyone had gone. “Just a little bump on the head. I fight those feelings and usually I win. This time they were just a bit stronger than me but I’m still okay. Your mommy always wins in the end.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, pulling away just enough to look at you and your heart broke at the sight of his puffy eyes and red face, tears trailing down those sweet, full cheeks.

“Of course I’m sure. I can’t let those feelings win. You know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I have you. You’re the thing that always gives me strength, Eli. You’re the reason I keep fighting again and again. They can’t ever beat me because I have you. You’re my sunshine that beats the darkness. You’re my joy that always overpowers the sadness. You’re like Captain America’s shield or Wonder Woman’s bracelets.”

He grinned, wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve, “The Bracelets of Submission are pretty powerful.”

“They are and so are you.”

“And so are you, mommy. You’re more powerful than all the superheroes in all the comic books in all the world.”

“Thanks, kiddo. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“You and your mom are going to spend the night here. How does that sound?” Steve asked.

Spend the night? When had you agreed to spending the night? You thought he’d meant to just stay for a couple hours to see how you were feeling, not the whole night.

“Really?” Eli’s eyes went wide, his grin almost cracking his face in two. Of course he’d love that idea. “A sleepover?”

“Yep. We just want to make sure your mom is back to one hundred percent so you guys are going to sleep here so I can keep an eye on her. I’m not letting her go home until I know she’s okay.”

“You’re gonna take care of her?”

“I sure am.”

Eli grinned, looking over at Jeremiah, the two boys looking far too excited at the idea of Steve ensuring she wasn’t concussed. But wasn’t that what Eli had said? That he wanted you to have someone to take care of you? They were twisting this situation into exactly what they wanted it to be. And you couldn’t even be upset about it because they both just looked so damn hopeful and adorable.

“I knew you would be the perfect person to take care of my mommy. I knew it!”

“So, how about you two take Miles out in the backyard for a bit to play and we let your mommy get some rest?” Steve suggested. “I’ll stay right here with her and make sure she’s alright, okay? And how about we order pizza later?”

“Pizza!” both boys yelled at the same time.

“I usually only get pizza on Fridays and now I get it on Sunday too! Cool! This is like the best day ever except for Mommy falling down!” Eli stopped, his face scrunching. “But what about school tomorrow?”

“I’ll take you both to school.”

“I can take him to school,” you stated. “I have to get to work anyway. We can just get up sooner and leave so I can change clothes.”

Steve shook his head. “I can take them both. I mean, I already have to head that way anyway and I’m sure Jere has something in his closet that Eli can borrow for the day. Then you only have to worry about getting yourself ready, as long as you’re feeling okay.”

“I will be. I already feel fine now,” you argued, attempting to sit up and immediately lying back down when a wave of dizziness and nausea overtook you.

“Oh, do you now?” teased Steve, dropping down at the other end of the couch, lifting your feet and placing them in his lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if your heart rate hadn’t just ratcheted up to two hundred at the physical contact. “Look, I know you are dying to bolt out of here and leave a you shaped hole in my wall because of my friends. But that’s just them. They love to stick their nose in where it doesn’t belong and think they’re making my life easier when, in reality, they are making it exponentially harder. There is nothing for you to be embarrassed about. If anyone should be embarrassed, it’s them. They’re meddling almost caused you a trip to the ER.”

“No they didn’t. It’s fine.”

It was. Kind of. Maybe. You didn’t know. All they were trying to do was look out for their friend. You couldn’t fault them for that. And nothing they had said had been wrong. You couldn’t make any promises. You hadn’t opened your heart to anyone since Justin’s death. You hadn’t found anyone that made you want to, until now anyway. But were you just being selfish? There were so many more hearts involved than just your own. It was hard enough to be willing to risk your heart breaking, but what about Eli, Jeremiah, and Steve?

“It’s really not.”

“No. It is.” You pressed your hands into the couch, slowly pushing yourself up to sitting. The room stayed level, nothing tilting or swirling for which you were grateful. “They were just looking out for you. It’s sweet, really. They don’t want to see you get hurt again and I understand that.”

“There are no guarantees in life. Nobody can ensure someone doesn’t get hurt. Trust me. I would wrap Jere in bubblewrap and keep him away from all the bad shit if I could but I can’t. Besides, we’re not even…I mean, this isn’t even…is it?”

You looked at Steve, this man who’d somehow cracked your heart wide open again. This who’d managed what you never thought would be possible. This man who’d made you feel alive, who’d made you feel truly happy, even hopeful for what the future could look like. This man who was everything you could have ever hoped for as if you'd created him in your dreams and he’d somehow become real. This man who had the power to shatter your heart into dust or bring it back to life.

Was it something? You didn’t know but you knew, as simply as you knew that the sun would set in a few hours and rise again tomorrow, that you wanted it to be. Maybe it was selfish. Maybe it was reckless. Maybe it was wrong but if it was, how come it felt so right?

You liked him being around. You loved how seamlessly he seemed to fit into your life, how easily he got along with Eli, how fluidly he just seemed to make sense. Eli adored him. He’d already stated that he thought Steve would be a great dad. Not that you were considering that just yet. You might be hopeless when it came to your feelings for him but you weren't insane. Somehow he’d managed to just sneak in under your radar and now you couldn’t picture your life without him in it in some way. Maybe you were just a bit crazy but wasn’t that what life was? Making crazy decisions, taking huge leaps, and just hoping it all turned out okay?

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “Do you want it to be?”

His lips pursed, fingers running over the fabric on the back of the couch and you wished you could be inside his brain, see what he was thinking. You were terrified of putting yourself out there again, opening your heart, letting yourself feel so deeply for someone again to possibly have it all shatter around you. But you were even more terrified of not taking a chance and missing out on what could be something amazing.

“Yeah, I do,” answered Steve after a beat, his eyes lifting to yours, those chameleon orbs a golden brown, like whiskey over ice, burning all the way down your throat to your very center. “I really do.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” he laughed, shaking his head. “I guess I thought I was pretty obvious but apparently not. Did you miss me trying to kiss you when we went ice skating?”

“I thought you were but then I wasn’t sure.”

“Yeah, well, it was an epic fail. I told myself to take my time. I know you lost your husband.” His teeth raked over his bottom lip, eyes darting to the floor before returning to hers. “Jere told me that Eli’s daddy was in heaven but I had no idea how it happened or when. I didn’t want to come across as pushy.” Those thick fingers raked through that glorious hair, massaging the back of his head. “Look, I like you, honey. I mean, I really like you. And yeah, I was floored the moment we met because you’re beautiful. I’m sure you know that.”

A million butterflies took flight from within your chest. No. You didn’t know that. Justin always told you how gorgeous you were and you would roll your eyes, telling him he was simply seeing you through rose colored glasses because of his love for you. Hearing Steve say it, it was something entirely different. He had women throwing themselves at him left and right. Women who took time with their appearance, who got regular haircuts, who wore heels and did their make-up every day. It wasn’t that you didn’t have any confidence but you'd never thought you were up to the standards of some of the women in this town.

“But it’s more than that,” he continued, lips pressing together, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “Getting to know you…I mean, you’re…hell, you’re amazing. You’re everything I would put on a list of what I think the perfect girl is. You’re kind. You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re independent. You’re an amazing mom. And you’re so damn strong. I can’t imagine going through what you have. I don’t know if I would still be standing let alone surviving the way you are.”

Tears stung your eyes and you slid the back of your fingers along them to catch them before they fell. It felt so gratifying to hear someone acknowledge how hard it was. How hard it was to keep moving forward when you felt like your entire world had stopped. How hard it was to live again after losing the thing you were living for. How hard it was to be everything your son needed when there was no one to ever stop and ask what you needed.

“So, yes. I want this to be something. I want to be with you. I want to hold your hand. I want to take you on a real date where I get to kiss you when it’s over. I want to know everything about you. But I understand if you need more time. I am willing to wait. I don’t want to rush you. I don’t want to mess this up because I really think we could have something great here. So, I do want this to be something but I don’t want you to feel obligated if you’re not ready.”

“Justin…my husband…we lost him two years ago,” you said softly, each word a tremble in your voice. “He was a Marine. He was supposed to be on a humanitarian mission in Somalia. He assured me there was nothing to worry about. There wasn’t supposed to be any fighting. But things went wrong. Some of the locals did not approve of our troops being there and they attacked. He was caught in the crossfire of the attack. The Marines wouldn’t give me any more information than that because it’s strictly confidential or that’s what they told me anyway.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks and then Steve’s thumbs were there, gently wiping them away. His hand came over to cover yours, engulfing it completely, giving you enough strength to keep talking. You hated talking about this but if this was going to be something, if you were going to try to make this something, then you had to start by being honest with him and letting him know what he was getting into.

“Damn. Honey, I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks. You always know it’s a risk when you’re married to a military guy but you just don’t ever want to think it will be you. Then suddenly two guys in uniform show up to your door. They didn’t even have to say anything. The minute I opened that door and saw them, I knew. They couldn’t have been there for any other reason. Their job is to give you the news that your life has been irrevocably changed. You only see them on the worst day of your life. I crumpled to the floor. I don’t even remember their words, don’t remember them somehow getting me to the couch, don’t remember them calling my mom. Lot of good that did. She’s hours away. Somehow I must have asked them to call Janice because here she came. If it hadn't been for her, I would still be on that couch.”

Steve didn’t say a word, his thumb tracing small circles over the back of your hand, and you were grateful. You weren't sure you could keep talking if he spoke right now and you wanted to get this out. He had a right to know. If he was truly interested in this becoming something, then he needed to know everything. He needed to know the mess that he was about to wade through.

“I went to a really dark place for a while. I functioned, but barely. The only thing that kept me going was Eli. He was all I had to live for anymore but I wasn’t really living. It was more like I was just existing. I knew he needed me. He needed me to be his mom. He needed me to keep things as normal as possible and I tried but it was all a show. Inside I was as far from normal as a person can be. On the days it was too hard Janice would come over and amuse Eli so I could fall apart. She finally convinced me to see a therapist and it helped.”

“Good. That’s really good. I mean, no one would expect you to be okay after something like that. I’m so sorry you felt like you had to pretend to be but I am glad you’re doing okay now.”

“See, that’s the thing…” You chewed on your lower lip. “Steve, I like you. I mean, I really like you. You’re the first guy who’s made me feel like I have a shot to be happy again. Hell, you’re the first guy who’s made me feel anything since it happened. But your friends might not be wrong. I don’t know if I am completely okay. I’m on medication, anti-anxiety meds and anti-depression meds. I was on sleeping pills but I weaned off those about a year ago.”

“Okay.” Steve shrugged, shaking his head. “Lots of people take medication on a regular basis.”

“Yeah. They do but I still sometimes have anxiety attacks. Certain things can trigger me and I can’t even always pinpoint what they are. Sometimes it’s something to do with Justin but sometimes it's not. It’s like I can’t handle the unexpected anymore. I keep waiting for disaster to strike or bad news to arrive at every turn. I don’t know. My therapist taught me this 3-3-3 technique. I find three things to look at, three things to listen to, and move three parts of my body. It usually works but obviously that did not happen today. It came on faster than I could process. But I can’t promise you that it won’t happen again.”

“Alright. So, if it happens I’ll know how to help. I’ll be there for you. Honey, you make it sound like you’re going to be such a chore for me.”

“I am. Don’t you see that? I’m not just some girl that’s easy and care-free and I come with a kid.”

“So do I,” snorted Steve.

“Yes but I also come with a ton of baggage. I mean, a warehouse full of baggage.”

Steve flexed his bicep, flashing you a grin, “I work out pretty regularly. I’m a fairly strong guy. I think I can handle hauling around a few bags.”

“Steve,” you sighed.

“Honey, look. I get it. But you think you’re the only one with baggage? The baggage from my parents alone could fill three semi trucks. That’s not even counting my constant search for someone who will love me for me or my failed marriage. No. I don’t take medication and I don’t have anxiety attacks. But I am needy. I am neurotic. I have a hero complex according to Robin, always trying to save everyone in my endless pursuit to matter somehow. I have chosen the wrong women my whole life because I’ve been seeking something I’ve never been able to find. Until you.”

“You barely know me.”

“I know enough. I know enough to know that you’re different. I know enough to know that this is worth trying. I know enough to know that this could be something amazing if we give it a shot. I’m willing to help you carry that baggage if you’re willing to help me carry mine. Everybody comes with baggage. I think it’s about finding someone who’s willing to help you carry the load. I’m willing to take the risk. Are you?”

You inhaled deeply. “I want to.”

“Then stop thinking so hard about it and do it. We don’t have to rush anything. We can take things slow. Just let me take you out for dinner. See how it goes.”

“What about the kids? If this doesn’t work out…Eli would be crushed if he lost Jeremiah. I think he would be crushed if he lost you.”

“Then he doesn’t have to. We’re both rational adults. This isn’t high school. If it doesn’t work out, then we go back to the way things are right now. I mean, come on. You’re talking to the guy who is still friends with his ex-wife. I was just out with them a few weeks ago for her husband’s birthday. I am more than capable of maintaining contact and being amicable after a split.”

“You’re sure you want to do this knowing all you know now?”

Steve smiled, leaning over your legs, those beautiful eyes gazing into yours, “I’m even more sure knowing all I know now because what I know is you are even more incredible than I thought you were before. Just one dinner. That’s all I’m asking. If you don’t enjoy yourself or you don’t think it’s going anywhere, it ends there. Come on. You can do one dinner, maybe dessert, right?”

You nodded, that terrifying little feeling that was hope blooming in your chest, “I can do one dinner.”

Chapter 9

Taglist: @katethetank@roxiehorrorshow@sapphire4082@bakugouswh0r3@frostandflamesfanfic @mix-matchsocks @mushy-mushroom04 @palmtreesx3 @littlebookworm86 @eddies-trailer-babe @cheesewritings @emilyj444 @daisyhollyxox

Thanks so much for taking the time to read my little story! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist. 😊 And replies and reblogs are always appreciated if you enjoy it. ❤️❤️❤️

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justinspoliticalcorner · 19 days

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Daniel Villarreal at LGBTQ Nation:

Alabama’s legislature is advancing two censorious anti-LGBTQ bills: H.B. 130 would ban LGBTQ+ flags in classrooms and expand the state’s “Don’t say gay” law to include grades 6-8; H.B. 385 would jail librarians for giving “sexual or gender-oriented material” to minors without parental consent. Both bills were approved in the Alabama House of Representatives this week and now head to the state’s Republican-led upper legislative chamber.

Alabama’s current “Don’t Say Gay” law says that K-5 classrooms “shall not engage in classroom discussion or provide classroom instruction regarding sexual orientation or gender identity in a manner that is not age appropriate or developmentally appropriate for students in accordance with state standards.” H.B. 130 would also remove the section “in a manner that is not age appropriate or developmentally appropriate for students in accordance with state standards,” banning LGBTQ+ discussions completely. The H.B. 130 expansion, which passed the state House on Tuesday, would expand the law to include grades 6-8 and also prohibit “flags symbolizing sexual orientations or gender identities” in all grade school levels. [...]

On Thursday, the Alabama House also passed H.B. 385, a bill would expand the state’s definition of “sexual conduct” to include conduct that “knowingly exposes minors to persons who are dressed in sexually revealing, exaggerated, or provocative clothing or costumes, or are stripping, or engaged in lewd and lascivious dancing, presentations, or activities in K-12 public schools, public libraries, and other public places where minors are expected and are known to be present without parental consent.”

The law would place libraries in the same category as “adult-only” stores, movies, and entertainment” in order to criminalize librarians who provide “sexual or gender-oriented material” to minors without parental consent. The bill would force school and public librarians to remove any books that other people find “obscene” or “harmful” to minors — though the law doesn’t specify who would determine what’s “obscene” or “harmful.” After filing a written objection to the library director or principal, librarians would then have seven days to remove the book from shelves. Librarians who fail to do so could initially face a misdemeanor criminal charge and a fine of up to $10,000 and a county jail or hard labor sentence of up to one year. If a librarian is convicted of a second or subsequent violation, they could face a class C felony charge punishable by up to 10 years in prison, The Alabama Reflector reported.

Alabama is getting closer to passing two anti-LGBTQ+ extremist and censorious pieces of legislation: #HB130 bill that bans LGBTQ+ Pride Flags in classrooms and expands the Don't Say Gay or Trans law to cover grades 6-8.

HB385 bill would expand the definition of "sexual conduct" to include K-12 public schools, public libraries, and other public places in a setting where minors are expected to be entering.

Both of these bills are based on the right-wing myth that exposure to LGBTQ+ content "sexualizes" and "indoctrinates" children.

#Alabama #Book Banning #Don't Say Gay or Trans #Anti LGBTQ+ Extremism #Libraries #Censorship #Alabama HB130 #LGBTQ+ Pride Flag #Anti Drag Show Extremism #Drag #Drag Queen Story Hour

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buckrecs · 1 year

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2022 Bucky Barnes Fic Rec 1

masterlist | req masterlist

All of them are COMPLETE Series.

✨ - fav fics

Status - Completed

✨sunrise from @wkemeup

Veteran!Bucky x Librarian!Reader

After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is discharged from active duty and sent back to civilian life. Left with a storm of unchecked guilt, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU)

parent-teacher conference by @coffeecatsandcandles

Single Dad!Bucky x Teacher!Reader

James Barnes, a widowed single dad, had forgotten what love felt like and let it crush him, taking his daughter, Rebecca, with him. He was cold, rude, and arrogant, being one of the few teachers at Westview High School the students seemed to absolutely despise. But when you show up, a hopeful math teacher who’d previously taught Rebecca’s kindergarten class, and are adored by your students and colleagues- James’s attitude starts to change.

whatever it takes by @wienerbarnes

Bucky x Doctor!Reader Doctor AU

The Avengers recruit you, a medical genius of sorts, to help solve the case of an agent who is dying from an unknown illness. You seem to catch Bucky Barnes’ attention.

seven thirty by @nacho-bucky

Single Dad!Bucky x Reader

You were planning on a productive — if lonely — weekend, but the little girl across the hall has different ideas about how you and Bucky Barnes should be spending your time.

call me when you want by @bonky-n-steeb

Bucky x Reader

When you call a sex hotline with a need to be dominated you don’t expect to meet (or hear) someone as wonderful as James. but your life becomes a complicated mess as you already love your coworker, Bucky Barnes. however, you are unaware that they are actually the same person.

steel blue by @youlightmeupfinn

Professor!Bucky Barnes x Reader

When you experience the most intense night of the summer alongside Bucky, who you nickname Steel Blue, you weren't expecting to fall pregnant. When a positive pregnancy test meets your eyes a few days before school starts, you know it belongs to the man who you'd never see again. Until you walk into your Romanian Linguistics class and he's your professor.

✨heart and soul by @all1e23

Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader

Alphas only brought trouble. The only thing they are good for is bringing their Omega’s pain and forced submission. They were dangerous, reckless and cruel. There wasn’t an ounce of kindness in any of them. She didn’t need an Alpha, and she certainly didn’t believe in that True Mates fairytale. That was just some fabricated fable Alphas made up to trick innocent doe-eyed Omegas. She wasn’t going to fall for that. Not again.No Alpha would ever get her to believe that love truly exists. And then, James Buchanan Barnes walked into her life.

✨astrophile by @all1e23

Firefighter!Bucky x Reader Single Dad AU

Orion Rebecca Barnes's favorite thing in the whole world (besides her daddy of course) is spending hours after school in the bookstore by her house and the owner GIVES her any book she wants; she’s the coolest girl Orion has ever met.

✨swallow by @all1e23

Biker!Bucky x Reader

Since he was fifteen years old, Bucky Barnes has only been sure of two things; the club should be the most essential thing in his life, and he’d burn it all down for you.

between the star by @all1e23

Bucky x Reader Past Steve x Reader Military AU

Struggling with the death of your husband, you find comfort in someone unexpected

the slip up by @justkending

Bucky x Single Mom!Reader

After a last hurrah to graduating college with a future to be a family practitioner, a little slip up happens… Seven years down the road, just when things just now seem to be going smoothly, Y/N approaches that slip up from all those years ago. She’s not looking for anything right now. She is just where she wants to be in life. It seems the universe has a different idea though. One called James Barnes.

✨the love club by @slyyywriting

Bucky x Mob!Reader

Bucky gets initiated into the mob life by accident. He wants out but only the owner can revoke his club membership.

the number one rule by @justkending

Bucky x Rogers!Reader

Y/N has always been seen as “Steve’s rambunctious sister.” However, she grew up, graduated, and moved to London to study abroad for 4 years and get her bachelor's degree. The girl that returns looks nothing like the teenager that left. But don’t worry, the attitude is still there and stronger than ever. What’s to come of the two grown adults that used to push each other's buttons, but now have a lot more in common than they’ve ever realized?

✨delicate edges by @wkemeup

Biker!Bucky x Florist!Reader

Your family’s beloved flower shop was not the only thing you inherited when your parents passed. Trapped under a mountain of debt to the Hydra club, you bear the cost of your father’s desperate bargain. It’s only in moments when the charming Bucky Barnes walks into your shop that you can forget the cruelty of the biker clubs of this town. But a war is brewing. The border is crumbling. You're trapped in the middle. And Bucky will stop at nothing to keep you safe.

not me by @simsadventures

CEO!Bucky x Wife!Reader

Billionaire/entrepreneur Bucky is married to seemingly timid and meek wife, the reader. While he hates her with all he has, she tried to act her part as the wife of the big CEO. And while their relationship falls apart more and more, they both realised there might be more to the story than they previously believed. Will they be able to repair the damage that’s been done, or will they find happiness in somebody else’s arms?

✨the perfect fit by @mypoisonedvine

Bucky x Tailor!Reader

bucky needs a new suit (or two) and gets a recommendation from his best frenemy, tony stark. of course it would turn out that you were his tailor, and further, that bucky would be an awkward stumbling mess as soon as he’s anywhere near you.

seeing red by @mypoisonedvine

Bodyguard!Bucky x Celebrity!Reader

bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself. except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

the new recruit by @angstysebfan

Bucky x Reader

You and Bucky have a best friends with benefits relationship, since he is not the “relationship” type. Things go crazy when the new recruit shows up.

✨one last job by @sunriserose1023

Bodyguard!Bucky x Celebrity!Reader

Bucky Barnes is retired. He did a stint in the Army, did a stint as a Secret Service agent, even dabbled in the private sector, but that’s over. Now, he just wants to rest in the solitude he’s found in a cabin in the Adirondacks, with only his memories to get him through the sleepless nights.

✨pride and privacy by @adrinktostopyourthirst

Roommate!Bucky x Reader

Bucky works on himself as he gets used to a roommate. Turns out, she has a much better room than him and he crossed the line.

the right for you by @real-jane

Bucky x Reader Past Steve x Reader

steve leaves you to pursue a life with peggy. bucky is there to pick up the pieces, and build a life you never could've imagined in order to dream of it.

✨for the love of the game by @pellucid-constellations

College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Bucky Barnes was a menace. NYU’s top baseball player, he was used to girls falling at his feet and could smooth talk his way out of just about anything. You hated him. He couldn’t figure out why. So when the novelty of weekend parties and quick hookups finally wore off—and his feelings for you began to grow—he made it his mission to fix it.

✨undisclosed by @pellucid-constellations

Lumberjack!Bucky x Reader

Desperate to outrun a secret that could cost you your life, you seek refuge in a small mountain town. Its deep forests and small cabins make it the perfect place to hide, but the travel website hadn’t mentioned anything about the quiet, burly lumberjack that wouldn’t leave your thoughts. No one had warned Bucky about you either.

fragments by @subwaysurf45

Bucky x Reader

You always had a soft spot for innocent people who were viewed as monsters, must have been something in your blood. Nothing changed when you were assigned as the new handler for the Winter Soldier, he had just killed his previous one and you happened to be there at the right time to fill in. But what happens when you meet him years later?

wrong choice right places by @mvtthewmurdvck

Mob!Bodyguard!Bucky x Reader

never wanting to work for him or protect his fiancé, falling for you was the last thing he should do—especially when his boss was zemo, who now ran most of the city.

✨mess is mine by @scrumptious-delusion

Boxer!Bucky x Reader

as a date night surprise, your boyfriend takes you to a boxing match. little does he know, one of the competitors is responsible for breaking your heart five years ago and an accidental encounter is about to send your whole world spinning.

no day but today by @buckysfaveplum

Bucky x Reader

He’s more than content to lock himself away from everyone in the cold emptiness of his apartment. However, the girl in the apartment above him seems to have other plans. The girl who paints on the fire escape and climbs down through his window. The girl who he can’t seem to get enough of.

✨southpaw by @gogolucky13

Boxer!Bucky x Reader

Tied up in the criminal world your godfather has built, you have no reason to leave, until you find one in the man they call Southpaw.

✨ghost of you by @gogolucky13

Bucky x Reader

Bucky has worked hard to come to terms with his past and enjoy the new life he’s been given. But his mind is still plagued by nightmares of what he’s done and by the face of an unknown woman. What happens when the team is tasked with recovering another Winter Solider, causing Bucky’s past and present to collide in the form of the woman from his dreams?

nostalgia for the new by @real-jane

Bucky x Agent!Reader

bucky meets you because of your exquisite taste in music, and he finds in you a solace he didn't realize was possible. you create for bucky something he's never found before: nostalgia for a time that hasn't happened yet, and hope for a future where he might be loved.

✨to have & to hold by @slyyywriting

Single Dad!Bucky x Mob!Reader

Bucky is trying his best to provide and care for his daughter who just entered first grade. Everything was alright until she asks why everyone else seems to have a mom except for her. You’re just a plain mob boss who wants to turn a new leaf. Challenges arise when the world refuses to let you take a softer, non-violent route. A little girl helps you navigate a compromise.(Single Dad!Bucky)

safe with me by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Bodyguard!Bucky x Reader

When an unknown threat enters your life, protection is offered at the highest level. As Bucky Barnes comes into your life, the game changes, and you realise falling for the man tasked with keeping you safe is the last thing you expected.

teacher’s favorite by @suitk0via

Single Dad!Bucky x Teacher!Reader

You are first grade teacher and Bucky is a single dad who wants to be involved with everything his little girl - Elaine - does. He’s the dad all the parent’s and faculty drool over. You quickly become Elaine's favorite teacher and Bucky's just gotta meet you.

✨stuck wit u by @slyyywriting

Bucky x Avenger!Reader

You and Bucky don’t get along. Your fights have become too destructive so Tony and Steve decide that enough is enough.

touch of ink by @deamstellarus

Tattoo Artist!Bucky x Reader

After a breakup with your ex, you decided to move to the small town where your long-time friend Sam lives, hoping for a change of pace and starting a new chapter in your life. You were prepared for a slower paced lifestyle, quaint diners, and a change of scenery. However, you didn't expect to be swept off your feet by two stunning pairs of blue-grey eyes.

✨paper walls by @writingcroissant

Neighbor!Bucky x Reader

Your apartment happens to be right next to Bucky's, heads only separated by a paper-thin wall, leading to you witnessing every second of his nightmares. Although, bonding over your late night conversations, you seem to forget that you never even saw him before.

✨leave this town by @avengerofyourheart

Mechanic!Bucky x Reader

Your dreams of kissing your small town life goodbye are about to come true when an unexpected detour leaves you stranded. Meeting the handsome local mechanic has you rethinking your plans. Perhaps happiness is less about where you’re headed and more about the people you meet along the way.

✨the world of our own by @shreddedparchment

Bucky x Reader Castaway AU

You and a man named Bucky crash land on a deserted island. Can the two of you come together and make it until rescue comes? After you begin to fall for the mysterious Bucky Barnes, will you even want to be rescued?

yours, mine, ours by @coffeecatsandcandles

Single Dad!Bucky x Single Mom!Reader

Bucky Barnes has been raising his girls, Rebecca and Winnie, for the last two years. He'd lost all hope of falling in love again until he met you, a pediatrician with two children of your own- Elliot and Willow. He falls in love and he falls hard, but the challenges of being single parents still weigh on you both at times. Luckily, you'll always have each other.

we’ll meet again by @coffeecatsandcandles

Bucky x Reader

You fell in love with Bucky Barnes in 1940. He was your everything, until he was taken from you. You’ll meet him again, just not in the way either of you expected…

✨run to me by @sgtjbuccky

Mob!Bucky x Reader

In where you’ve always had a habit of ending up in situations you shouldn’t, and when you caught the eye of the man who ran New York, Bucky Barnes, your life changed. They warned you about him, but the one thing they never warned you about was how you’d always want to run to him.

trick question by @nacho-bucky

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

It’s a weekly battle of wills for Bucky and the Reader, as they navigate the stunning pressure that is pub trivia. Can these obdurate opponents find any middle-ground?

the diner by @bolontiku

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

Working at a diner as a waitress, struggling to make bills and take care of the kid your sister left you, one night you meet James.

relax by @kinanabinks

Bucky x Reader

Things with Bucky are easy, and he's the sweetest guy you've been with. But when you throw in a bitter roommate and untold secrets, things get real hard, real fast.

old souls @thedevilwearsvibranium

Bucky x Reader

Your aunt runs an antique shop in the lower parts of Manhattan, and asks you to work in her shop once a week. You happily take the job, but then on your first day you have a strange encounter with an unusual customer - Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier. Things ensue as the two of you end up becoming friends - and maybe even more - as you reminisce about the old things that you love as well as your mysterious pasts.

breaking the rules by @redgillan

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

You hate James Barnes with a burning passion and the feeling is entirely mutual. Just when you think things can’t get any worse, you are tricked into attending his sister’s wedding as his girlfriend. Stuck with a bunch of strangers, you come up with a set of rules that are not going to last long.

time after time by @justsomebucky

Neighbor!Bucky x Reader

AU. When the reader’s parents divorce, her mother moves her to a new town, right next door to Bucky Barnes. This is their love story.

just a touch by @buckychrist

Bucky x Enhanced!Reader

Your powers? Controlling any feeling a human can have, from emotions to pain, with a simple brush of your fingertips. Your mission? The traumatized soldier with sad stricken eyes and scream filled nightmares.

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proxima-writes · 11 months

Text

seven - a joel miller story

pairing: post-outbreak jackson!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 5k

summary:

Joel Miller has spent twenty years pushing the grief and guilt surrounding the death of his daughter, Sarah, to the darkest recesses of his brain in favor of survival. And I've been meaning to tell you I think your house is haunted Your dad is always mad and that must be why

Living a more quiet life in Jackson means the ghosts of his past have returned to haunt him. He finds his solace in you, the town librarian.

author's note:

another work for the folklore anthology! i'd really love to hear your thoughts on this one, so please drop a comment or slide into my inbox if you're so inclined.

content warnings/tags:

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, ANGST, themes of grief and loss, feelings of guilt, discussions of child loss and sibling loss (unnamed brother of reader), descriptions of panic attacks, nightmares, alcohol use, unprotected p in v, vaginal fingering, pet names, a reference to the harry potter series. let me know if any are missing!

“Look at me, daddy!”

Joel watches as Sarah pumps her legs, soaring high into the cloudless blue sky. He has to shield his eyes against the painfully bright sun. He smiles as she laughs, the sound blanketing him in joy.

As she swings down back towards the ground, Joel hears a panicked shout. He turns, a man running toward him over the hill, arms waving. He can’t hear what the man is saying, he’s too far away.

A shot rings out and the man drops to the ground in a heap of limbs. Joel can see a line of soldiers, guns trained toward him.

“Sarah, we have to go!” He shouts, turning back to the swing set. The swing is empty. He searches frantically for his daughter but the little girl is nowhere to be found. “Sarah!”

He’s running, putting space between him and the soldiers. He begs and prays to a God he’s always had trouble believing in that he finds his baby.

He sees her, finally. She’s standing in the middle of a field, her back to him. It’s dark now, he’s not sure when that happened.

“Sarah! Sarah, we gotta go, come on, baby,” he shouts. She turns, slowly, her arm braced around her stomach and a horrified expression on her face. Joel drops to his knees in front of her, taking her face between his hands. “Baby? What’s wrong?”

She lowers her arm, bright red blood smeared on her tan skin and a blossoming stain on her shirt. Her voice shakes as she whispers, “Daddy?”

Joel wakes with a shout, sitting up in bed as he struggles to catch his breath. His sweat damp skin erupts with goosebumps in the cold air of his bedroom. He presses a hand to his chest, the tight grip of panic around his heart easing incrementally as he fights for breath.

The brief glimpse of darkness between the curtains covering the window tells him it’s still early and a glance at the clock on the nightstand confirms as much. He groans, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing. The floor is frigid against his bare feet and he shivers with the unexpected chill.

In the kitchen, he makes himself coffee before slipping his leather jacket on and heading to the back porch. The dark sky has lightened the slightest bit, the encroaching dawn painting the inky sky a faded purple as the sun creeps up from its slumber.

From his porch, Joel can see one of the side entrances to the cemetery. He watches as a figure emerges from beyond the concrete walls and it takes him a moment to realize it’s just you again.

You, the curious woman that runs the town library. He’s seen you on other occasions like this morning, where he’s trying to shake off the remaining webs of discomfort that have been spun in his mind. You shut the wrought iron gate and like you can feel his gaze on you, your head turns, keen eyes regarding him.

You approach his house, stopping at the bottom of the porch. You stand with your hands stuffed in your coat pockets, head tilted slightly and a smile on your lips as you say, “Up a bit early, aren't you?”

Joel takes a sip of his coffee. “Could say the same about you.”

“Early bird catches the worm,” you reply, smiling at him. He swallows. You make him nervous. Despite the few interactions he’s had with you, he feels like you know him to his very marrow, and that scares a man like Joel.

“More like a night owl.”

You chuckle. “A bird is a bird. I’ll see you around, Joel Miller.”

He stares after your retreating figure for so long his coffee has gone cold. With a sigh, he returns inside, thoughts no less tangled than when he first stepped outside.

________

You survey the rose bushes you’ve cultivated, rows of different varietals beginning to blossom or in full bloom. The peony buds have gotten larger and any day now they should blossom as spring really begins to show her colors. The mornings and evenings are still cold, but the afternoons give way to hotter temperatures and thankfully you’ve been spared one last late winter snowfall.

You prune some of the faded blooms from the bushes, collecting them for composting. When you’re done, you return inside to wash up and change before heading to the library. As you scrub beneath your fingernails, your mind drifts to the specter of Jackson, Joel Miller.

There’s something about him that draws you in, despite the arms length of distance he tries to keep from everyone. You saw him the other morning after you made your way through the cemetery long before it officially opened, laying extra flowers around some of the less tended graves. It’s not the first time, and based on what you know about the older man, it won’t be the last.

________

Since Joel isn’t scheduled for a patrol for a few days, he decides to visit the library. Too much idleness is dangerous for a man like Joel, who is in constant search of something to keep his mind and body occupied so that his thoughts don’t drift to darker places.

You’re sitting at the circulation desk when he enters, bent over a book as you read off the log number on it and write it in a journal under your hand. You look up, flashing him a smile that briefly suffuses him with warmth.

“Hey,” you say in greeting. He nods, intending to just walk past you, but you continue to ask, “You need help finding anything?”

“No,” he replies shortly. You nod, smile faltering the slightest bit. Joel feels a flash of guilt before he tamps it down and walks deeper into the library.

He explores the tidy shelves until he finds himself in the fiction section, reading cracked spines and faded letters until one catches his eye. It’s a small paperback sandwiched between two larger books, a pink spine etched with white lines and faded blue lettering. He wiggles it free, turning it over in his hands.

A Wrinkle In Time.

The blue cover with a snowy mountain scene, three children carried in an egg over a town by a flying white creature used to stare up at him from Sarah’s nightstand. It was her favorite book, one she had him read to her at bedtime when she was five. It was the same book he’d caught her reading under the covers with a flashlight past her bedtime when she was eight, the same one she carried everywhere until it fell apart and he had to replace it when she was ten.

Joel’s hand shakes and he has to steady himself by holding the bookshelf. His chest feels tight, too small of a space for his rapidly pounding heart. The words printed on the books in front of him all blur together as he tries to focus, tries to breathe, tries to stay in the present.

There’s a hand on top of his. Delicate, soft. A voice he knows he recognizes but can’t place is saying his name, but it sounds like it’s coming through layers of cotton in his ears. He squeezes his eyes shut.

After a long moment, that vise grip around his chest eases and he swallows around the lump in his throat. He blinks, spots dancing in his vision as his eyes adjust to the light once more.

“Joel?” You ask, voice quiet. It makes his muscles tense, coiled tight like he’s ready to run. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies roughly. He slips his hand out from beneath yours. “‘M fine.”

You’re silent for a moment, keen eyes making him feel flayed open and exposed as you watch him. Finally you ask, “Was it about your daughter?”

“No,” he snaps. Rage blinds him, white hot in his vision as he moves past you.

“Wait,” you call out. Joel pauses but doesn’t turn. “It’s okay, you know. To still carry that pain. Did you ever even allow yourself a chance to mourn?”

He turns, looking at you incredulously. “What the hell do you mean? I mourn every fuckin’ day.”

“No, you grieve. You let the thoughts of Sarah—“

“Don’t. Don’t you say her name,” he hisses, stepping closer in his anger. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me.”

“—haunt you to the point of pain. You think I don’t know why you’re out there on your porch so early some mornings? It’s the same reason I’m out in the cemetery,” you confess. You take a deep breath. “You’ve been fighting for survival since the outbreak and you never gave yourself the chance to mourn. You owe it to yourself and to Sarah to try.”

Joel’s chest heaves, a venomous retort on the tip of his tongue when a voice calls out your name from the front of the building. With one last look that speaks volumes with no words, you disappear from the stacks.

Joel leaves the library and heads straight for the Tipsy Bison. A young man is polishing glassware when he storms in, door slamming shut behind him.

“What can I get you?” The man asks as Joel slides onto a stool.

“Whiskey,” he demands. A glass is set in front of him, amber liquid poured until it's halfway full. He brings the glass to his lips and lets the alcohol burn its way down his throat and erase the taste of guilt on his tongue. Setting the glass on the bar he says, “Another.”

He drinks two more glasses in the same fashion, glaring at the boy when he hesitates to pour his third drink. He sips his fourth pour slowly, letting time pass as it always cruelly will.

Finally, when the light beyond the window panes starts to fade, he heads home, hands shoved in his pockets as he wills one foot in front of the other, gaze fixed on the pavement. It’s not a long walk but it feels like it as he cuts between buildings to avoid having to make conversation with people.

When he reaches his house, he stomps up the steps as he digs in his pockets for his key. His boot knocks into something on the ground by the door. He bends over to pick up the object.

A Wrinkle In Time.

Joel opens his front door and collapses on the couch, book pressed to his chest as a dreamless, whiskey tinged sleep consumes him.

________

“Stop running! Put your hands up!”

Joel sets Sarah on the ground, raising his hands above his head. “We’re not sick! My daughter, she hurt her ankle,” he shouts.

The soldier keeps his gun trained on them as a staticky voice over the radio says something he can’t make out. His finger moves from rest to poised over the trigger, the barrel of his gun braced against his shoulder as he takes aim.

“No!” Joel shouts as the gun goes off. He launches himself in front of Sarah, wrapping his arms around her and bracing for the impact and the shocking pain.

The pain doesn’t come. He slowly opens his eyes, expecting to see the soldier and his gun but instead he sees Sarah, a shocked look on her face as she clutches her stomach, dark blood staining her fingers. She’s far away, not right behind him like she had been.

That’s when Joel notices the weight in his hands, the cold press of metal to his palms. He looks down at the black rifle in his hands, then back up at Sarah.

“No!”

Joel wakes tangled in his sheets, panic coursing through his veins and a hoarse shout of Sarah’s name fading in the dark. As he chokes on the air his lungs are desperate for, he glances at the clock. It’s early again, too early for the rest of the town to be awake save for the people scheduled to return from patrol in a couple hours.

He runs a hand over his face with a sigh before getting up. It’s been a couple weeks since he last had a nightmare, the product of back to back patrol shifts and helping with a building repair that left him so blissfully exhausted his traitorous brain couldn’t torture him, but it seems they’ve returned with a vengeance.

Joel gets dressed and heads downstairs, making himself coffee that he brings out to the porch. He watches the cemetery gate, part of him hoping he sees you and a larger part hoping whatever haunts you has left your peace intact for the night.

Like his thoughts have conjured you from the ether, you step outside the cemetery gates. He sees the brief moment of hesitation when you notice him sitting on his porch, but a forgiving part of you must urge you closer. When you reach the porch, you regard him with that same look that makes him feel like you can see right through to his wretched soul.

“You’re up early,” you comment knowingly.

“So are you.”

“So I am.” You take a deep breath. “Come with me. I wanna show you something.”

You don’t wait for his response before you’re turning, heading for the gate and back towards the cemetery. Despite his better judgment, Joel follows, taking wide steps to catch up with your quick stride.

You walk the winding dirt paths between the headstones with sure steps that Joel follows with uncertainty. He’s never been in the cemetery, has never had a reason, so he appraises the headstones with a morbid curiosity, reading the names of people he’s never met. He notes that a number of the sites have flowers in various stages of freshness.

After a few minutes, you stop and Joel glances at the headstone you’ve paused in front of.

“Tommy had it put in a few years after he got to town,” you say quietly. “He told me about her…about what happened.” Joel takes a step closer, dropping to his knees. The damp earth cushions the fall, early morning dew seeping into his jeans as he reaches out to trace the carved letters of his baby’s name.

“I’ll…I’ll give you some privacy. I just thought you should know she’s here.”

As you turn to leave, Joel reaches out and wraps a tentative hand around your knee. You look at him in surprise as he murmurs, “Stay with me?”

You lower yourself to the ground, settling in beside him as the sun rises and the world around you wakes from its slumber.

________

You sit together in front of Sarah’s headstone for about an hour before Joel stands with a groan and mumbled curse. He holds a hand out to you to help you up, the gesture leaving you nearly pressed together. You search his brown eyes, hoping for a glimpse of relief but it’s still too soon to tell.

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly, stepping back and clearing his throat. “For snappin’ at you in the library.”

“I understand. I made a lot of assumptions that day,” you reply. He laughs, though it’s strained.

“Yeah, well, if there were still a lottery around I’d tell you to buy a ticket. You were right on the money.” He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “Thought I was gettin’ better. After all that time with Ellie…I felt like I had a purpose again.”

“Maybe that’s the issue. Thinking your purpose is tied to someone else.”

His brow furrows. “How do you keep doin’ that?”

“Doing what?” You ask.

“Seein’ right through me.”

You smile at him.

“Like attracts like, Joel. Remember that.”

________

Joel starts visiting Sarah’s grave regularly. Sometimes it’s early, the result of another nightmare or returning from patrol, and sometimes it’s later in the evening, when fireflies begin to flicker in the grass as spring wears on. He takes the worn copy of A Wrinkle In Time that you left him, reading a chapter of it out loud each time as he sits with his back pressed to the stone marker.

One thing he notes with growing intrigue is how there’s always flowers on a number of the headstones, including Sarah’s. It’s a reminder that he’s not the only victim of loss, even if his own still feels like a gaping wound some days.

He visits the library again, a bag full of books he found on his last patrol shift heavy on his back as he enters the building. You look up from a book you’re reading as the door shuts, smiling at him.

“Hey,” you say in greeting. “You need any help finding anything today?”

“No. Brought you somethin’, though,” he replies, hefting the bag onto the counter and opening it to reveal his bounty. “Found ‘em last patrol.”

You reach in and pull two of the books out, your grin downright ecstatic as you look at him. “The Lord of the Rings?”

“Complete set. You ever read it?”

“When I was younger,” you murmur, fingers tracing the cover of the book. “Thank you, Joel.”

His heart pounds as he looks at you, smile bright and eyes soft. You remove the other books from his bag, laying them out and checking them for damage. He likes watching you work, the gentle way that you flip through the time worn pages soothing to him as he stands there.

“What’s your favorite book?” You ask, glancing at him as you work.

“Not much of a reader. Sarah was, though. She would tell me about the books she was reading,” he says, voice catching on Sarah’s name. “She loved A Wrinkle In Time. Started the Harry Potter series, too. When the last one came out she made me take her to the bookstore at midnight just to get it.”

“My brother did the same,” you reply. “Dressed up and everything.”

“Your brother, huh?” Joel asks. You stack the books, avoiding Joel’s gaze.

“He was about Sarah’s age. Twelve. I was seventeen when…everything happened.” You pause. “The night that everything started happening, I had actually snuck out of the house. Went to a party in the woods. I made it back home just as the grid went out but when I got inside…”

“You don’t gotta tell me this,” Joel says.

“When I got inside, my brother was sitting at the table, covered in blood. Our parents had attacked him and he fought them off as best he could. He could feel the infection, you know? Knew something was wrong. He told me to leave.” You take a deep breath, your eyes returning to the present. A tear slides down your cheek and you brush it away quickly. “If I had been there—“

“Don’t,” Joel interrupts. “You can’t blame yourself.”

You laugh, looking at him incredulously. “Pot meet kettle!”

Joel laughs with you, a boisterous sound he hasn’t heard in years. It feels almost rusty in its disuse. “Thank you for tellin’ me,” he says when quiet descends once more.

“It’s only fair, right? A tragedy for a tragedy?”

“I don’t think that’s how the sayin’ goes.”

You shrug. “That’s how the world goes, though.”

________

As spring starts to fold into summer, Joel finds himself growing closer to you. It starts with visits to the library when he’s off from patrol, helping you shelve and catalog books. Soon, he’s spending so much time there that he’s still around when it’s time for you to lock up and he offers to walk you home or to the mess hall for dinner.

Dinner turns into the occasional drink at the Tipsy Bison. Those nights are his favorite, watching as you try to play darts after a few drinks and laughing when you pout after each missed shot.

Better days still give way to troubled nights, though. He wakes on one such night drenched in sweat, the nightmare just a haze of fear in his mind. It’s early, of course, so he takes a brief shower and dresses before grabbing his coffee and A Wrinkle In Time to make his way to the cemetery.

The ground is soft beneath his footsteps as he takes a now familiar path to Sarah’s headstone, seating himself on the damp dirt. He reads for a bit before the creak of hinges alerts him to someone’s arrival.

You enter through the front gate, a pile of flowers wrapped in butcher paper in your arms. He watches as you lay flowers around the graves with care, moving steadily among the rows until you’ve reached Joel.

“You do the flowers?” He asks. You take a seat beside him, gathering a wilted white rose from in front of the headstone and replacing it with a spray of yellow flowers.

“Some of them. Sometimes people come to me for arrangements to bring themselves,” you reply.

“Why?”

“Because I still believe in beautiful things,” you tell him with a shrug.

Joel watches you set the flower carefully on the ground in front of Sarah’s headstone and it feels like the final piece of a puzzle slotting into place. In the silence between you, his mind drifts to Tess, who he cared for but couldn’t give himself fully with the way he was when he knew her. He thinks about Bill and Frank and the kindness they showed him even when he didn’t show his gratitude. He thinks about Ellie, who stuck by his side despite everything he had to do to make it here.

Then there’s you, who’s planted roots in his heart like the flowers you grow and filled him with a light he hasn’t known in a long time and it leaves him feeling damn near winded. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, when a crack of thunder precedes the opening of the sky, heavy raindrops filtering through the tree branches.

“Shit!” He curses, shoving his book into the waistband of his jeans beneath his shirt to protect it from the rain. “Let’s go,” he says, tugging you up from the ground and keeping your hand gripped tightly in his as you both sprint for his porch.

You’re both drenched from the sudden summer downpour, rain dripping from your clothes and hair to the porch as you race up the steps. Another crack of thunder has you jumping, laughter spilling from your lips that joins the melody of the rain on the roof.

As your laughter fades, Joel pulls you closer by the hand still held tight in his. He searches your face for any sign that you might not want this, might not want him, but to his relief he finds none. He wraps an arm around your low back, pressing your rain soaked body to his as he tilts his head to capture your lips in a gentle kiss.

The kiss remains soft, gentle, a smooth glide of his slightly chapped lips against yours. You taste like rainwater but feel like sunshine, a perfect dichotomy. Joel pulls away slowly, not wanting to lose the connection but starting to feel uncomfortable in his soaked clothing.

“Come on,” he says, “let’s get some dry clothes.”

He leads you inside the dark house and upstairs to his bedroom. He finds a shirt and boxers for you, turning to give you the privacy to change as he does the same, setting the damp book on his nightstand and leaving his wet clothes in a heap on the floor.

“I’m decent,” you announce. He turns, breath catching at the vision you make wearing his clothes, your nipples pressing against the worn cotton shirt. He reaches for you, wrapping an arm around your waist and a hand behind your neck to pull you into another kiss.

You pull away first this time, stepping back and crawling into his bed. You burrow beneath the covers before lifting the edge, an eyebrow raised at him in invitation. He slides in beside you, blankets settling over your bodies as you rest your head against his bare chest.

“I’m scared,” Joel says, a whisper in the dark.

“About what?” You ask, lifting yourself up to look at him. He swallows around the lump in his throat.

“Losin’ you. Losin’ Ellie. Losin’ Tommy.” A pause. “Like I lost Sarah. And Tess.”

“Fear doesn’t stop death, Joel. It just stops you from living.”

________

Something changes in Joel with your words. He lifts his head from the pillow to kiss you, his body shifting beneath yours to push you onto your back so he can hover over you. This kiss is different, more desperate as his tongue slides against yours and his teeth dig into your bottom lip.

You slide your fingers into his hair, nails scratching against his scalp and making him moan into your kiss. He trails his lips across your jaw and down your neck as he urges your legs apart and fits himself in the space between your thighs.

His hips rock against yours, the friction making you gasp and pull on his hair. He chuckles against the skin of your neck before sinking his teeth against your pulse point, sucking a mark into your skin to match the one he’s left on your heart.

One of his warm hands lifts your borrowed shirt, bunching the material beneath your armpits and exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. Joel dips his head to pull one nipple between his lips and he swirls his tongue over the hard bud, looking up at your face as he does. He does the same to your other breast, the delicious sensation of his mouth almost enough to distract you from the slow drag of his calloused fingers across your tummy and beneath the elastic of the boxers he’s leant to you.

He groans as his fingers circle your clit, gathering your wetness and spreading it over your folds with his movements. He leans up to kiss you again, deep swipes of his tongue exploring your mouth as your hips chase his hand with increasing fervor.

“You’re so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs. There’s a bright flash of lightning that illuminates the room, giving you a clearer view of the adoration simmering in his eyes.

You press a hand to his cheek. “You deserve good things, Joel Miller.”

He drops his head, forehead pressed to your collarbone. He slips two fingers inside of you as thunder rattles the windows, the storm overhead matching the one in your body as he works his digits with slow, methodical movements, curling them with each pull from inside of you.

“Need you,” you whimper, “please, Joel, need you.”

“You got me,” he says, sitting up to tug the boxers down your thighs and pull the waistband of his down, freeing his cock that he takes on his fist, rubbing it through your folds.

He notches the thick head of his cock at your entrance, pressing inside of you with a single deep thrust that has you gasping his name. There’s another crack of lightning as he bottoms out, hips pressed flush to yours.

Joel starts to move, setting a leisurely pace, notably unhurried as you relish in the weight of him against you. His forehead drops to yours and he peppers your face with soft kisses, from your forehead to your nose to your chin. You smile at him and to your surprise and delight, he grins back.

He sits up, gripping your hips for leverage as his rhythm changes to something more carnal, more desperate, sharp thrusts that drag against something inside of you that makes stars dance across your vision. You’re moaning his name with each collision of his hips to yours and his head drops back with his own deep groan as you tighten around him with your release.

“Fuck,” he shouts, withdrawing quickly and taking himself in hand, hot splashes of cum hitting your stomach as you gasp for air. Joel leaves the bed for a moment and returns with a damp cloth he uses to wipe you clean before tossing it to the pile of wet clothes and climbing back into bed beside you.

He pulls you close and with your head on his chest, you let the pounding rhythm of his heart lull you back to sleep.

________

“Look how high I got, daddy!”

Joel watches a young Sarah deftly climb the limbs of a tree she found on their hike. He laughs as she straddles the last branch she can reach, waving down at him with a bright grin on her face.

“That’s mighty impressive, baby girl, but can you get back down?” He shouts up at her.

“Of course I can!” She insists, slowly working her way back down the branches. She makes it to a lower branch but she can’t reach a foothold from where she hangs by her arms. “Daddy!”

“I gotcha,” Joel says, moving to stand below her. “Just let go, I’ll catch ya.”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

Joel’s eyes flutter open. The first thing he notices is the sunlight streaming through the open window. You must have woken up before him and opened it. The room is warm from the late summer sun, but there’s a breeze that rustles the curtains as he stands and stretches.

He can hear the clink of pans downstairs and he follows the noise, leaning in the doorway of the kitchen as he finds you whisking something in a bowl. It’s been weeks since that early morning together in bed and every day since you continue to help put him together piece by jagged piece.

You must feel him there, attuned to him as you always are, because you turn and grin brightly at him.

“There you are,” you say, crossing the kitchen to kiss him. “Was wondering when you’d finally wake up.”

“Can’t a man sleep in once and a while?” He asks, pulling you in for a second and third kiss. “What are you workin’ on?”

“A cake. It’s July 20th.”

Sarah’s birthday.

Joel’s breath leaves him in a rush. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and holds you tightly to him, your arms wrapped around his waist as you squeeze back.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“Always.”

Want more Joel Miller? Check out my masterlist.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #no use of y/n #joel x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou hbo

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the-lonelybarricade · 5 months

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Feysand Holiday Fic Recs

A collection of holiday-themed Feysand fics for you to enjoy while snuggled down beneath a big, cozy blanket with a cup of hot cocoa!

Spicy fics indicated by a 🌶️ emoji

Please make sure to spread the holiday joy and kindness by leaving kudos and comments on any of the fics that you find and enjoy from this list 💕

One-Shots:

Modern:

The Holiday (🌶️) by @velidewrites - When two sisters with a terrible taste in men (or is it?) decide to swap houses for the holidays, they don't expect to fall in love.

Dada by @julemmaes - Rhysand and Feyre have tried everything to make their little boy talk, now they can only wish for a Christmas miracle

Home for the Holidays by @darling-archeron - Feyre and Rhys have been best friends for years. And Feyre knows that's all they'll ever be - friends. When Rhys brings her to his family Christmas party, she realizes that not everyone has the same impression of their relationship.

Going Home by @darling-archeron - When Feyre's flight home is cancelled, she finds herself stranded in Chicago on Christmas Eve. Luckily, she runs into a familiar face at the airport.

Christmukkah by @live-the-fangirl-life - When Feyre can't celebrate the holidays with her family, Rhys decides to help

Merry Christmas, Feyre Darling (orphaned) - Feysand Fluffy Highschool AU fic

Don't Be a Jerk (It's Christmas) by @the-lonelybarricade - When the group in the corner of the cafe are being too loud for Feyre to study, she decides to take matters into her own hands.

A Letter Never Sent by @the-lonelybarricade - Rhysand was assigned as Feyre's secret santa—again. But after nearly confessing his feelings to her last Christmas, he'll be making sure not to put his heart on his sleeve this year. Or; Rhys accidentally gives Feyre the wrong Christmas letter.

A Letter to Satan (🌶) by yafan92 - When Feyre sends a drunken letter to Santa on Christmas Eve, she doesn't realize that she actually sent it to Satan, who shows up willing to grant her Christmas wish.

Feysand Holiday Fluff Fest by @nomattertheoceans - A series of 31 holiday prompt fills for December 2019

All I Want For Christmas Is You by dr_woodsprite - Rhysand and Feyre’s first Christmas.

A Very Feysand Christmas by @librarian-of-orynth - Feyre and Rhys buy, and then decorate, their Christmas tree.

Merry Christmas, Darling by whimsicallydrifting - Rhys and Feyre are celebrating their first Christmas together as a married couple, and Rhys decided to be romantic and take care of all the preparations: tree, dinner, and decorations. It didn't go exactly as he'd planned.

False Identity (🌶️) by addiewritesthings - One night at a bar, recent divorcee Feyre Archeron is approached by a beautiful dark-haired man who wants to know her name. Only the name she gives him isn't her own.

Canon:

In the Spirit by @noirshadow - the Inner Court confronts their biggest enemy to date - Dry January.

Winter Solstice with Nyx by JAWhitethorn - This is a fluffy, happy story about Feyre & Rhysand celebrating Solstice with the Inner Circle and Nyx, when he is almost five years old.

Solstice Lights and a Scared High Lord by Littlelionman15 - Rhysand thought it'd be a good idea to put himself under the christmas tree as another winter solstice present for Feyre, but things don't go as planned, and the possibility of a new haircut comes in play when Feyre has to help him get out.

I Am Lost And Led Only By The Stars by highfaelucien - The first Christmas after the war and Feyre is disappointed when Rhys can't make it back from the Illyrian camps due to a violent snow storm. Rhys decides to throw caution to the wind and do whatever it takes to get back to his mate in time.

Christmas at the Cabin by @illyriantremors - The entire squad goes to the cabin in the mountains to spend a week together at Christmas. Mayhem and shenanigans ensues.

Seven Days of Solstice by @msfeyredarling - On Feyre’s fiftieth, Rhys decides to celebrate Feyre following the seven days of the winter solstice.

Secret Weapon by addiewritesthings - Feyre returns home one evening to discover exactly what Rhys and Nyx have been up to all day.

Multi-Chapter (all completed):

Modern:

A Christmas Prince by @separatist-apologist - When reporter Feyre Archeron is sent to the small European Principality of Aldovia to cover the upcoming coronation of Prince Rhysand, she's mistaken for a royal portraitist. Deciding to lean into the lie in order to get a better story, Feyre is caught up in the drama and politics of Rhysand's life with no way out that doesn't betray them both.

Once Bitten, Twice Shy by @the-lonelybarricade - "You didn't put up Christmas lights so my friends and I decided to decorate your lawn for you"

Silent Night by Lyetta - When a spare of the moment decision sends Rhys down the riverside path, his life is turned upside down by a beautiful woman in need of help.

Home for the Cold Spell by @thegloweringcastle - When faced with yet another birthday alone in her hometown, Feyre decides to gift herself the thing she needs most: an escape. Things go well; she explores new places, meets new people, and finds a muse in the most arrogant (and beautiful) man she's ever met.

#If I'm missing any favorites please feel free to reblog and add them!#I tried to do a thorough sweep of the archive but there's only so many holiday keywords a girl can think of #Feysand #feysand fic #feysand fanfic #feysand fanfiction #fic recs

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anitalenia · 1 year

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━━━ .°˖✧ enemies to lovers ⋆˙⊹

꒰ঌ definition ໒꒱ 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟. literally my fav. trope

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ below you will find sub genres under this category, as well as some useful pairings for this trope. for educational writing purposes <3

note: several of these can also be used in other tropes as well, just depends on how you write it and interpret it.

╰₊✧ ﾟOTHER LINKS . ྀི ⊹ masterlist | romance tropes |

taglist | prompt help | symbol packs | dividers page

꒰ঌ group one ໒꒱

꒰ঌ group two ໒꒱

cat person x dog person | childhood enemies reacquainted | bully’s you cause he likes you | ex lovers still in love but too stubborn to get back together / love disguised with hate | mutual dislike in a shared friend group

꒰ঌ group three ໒꒱

꒰ঌ group four ໒꒱

꒰ঌ group five ໒꒱

demon x exorcist | chefs at rivaling restaurants | food critic x chef | spoiled girl x bodyguard forced to put up with it | knight x princess | villain x hero’s accomplice (bonus points if the good person feels like they’re betraying the hero for liking the villain)

꒰ঌ group six ໒꒱

꒰ঌ group seven ໒꒱

꒰ঌ group eight ໒꒱

꒰ঌ group nine ໒꒱

꒰ঌ group ten ໒꒱

cheerleader x computer wiz | warrior x civilian they’re protecting (not necessarily bodyguard au) | the two groups are at war | forced to work together to take down a common enemy | fuckboy neighbor who never stops partying x girl who studies 24/7 or vice versa

꒰ঌ group eleven ໒꒱

flirty villain x hero who knows it’s wrong but can’t help but eventually give in from time to time (batman and catwoman) | maneater girl x shy boy who hates attention | two students running for student body president

꒰ঌ group twelve ໒꒱

꒰ঌ group thirteen ໒꒱

꒰ঌ group fourteen ໒꒱

꒰ঌ group fifteen ໒꒱

will update when I think of new ones. hope this helps if you’re not sure what story to tell but you want something new <3

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itsbansheebitch · 10 months

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Today I learned (from a Jacob Geller video, but here's an article, too) that Al Qaida went on a rampage committing arson, destroying ancient scrolls and manuscripts (specifically in Mali). A librarian who was preserving a collection of PRICELESS manuscripts in Timbuktu knew that Al Qaida would be coming to their library sooner or later, so over the course of six months with the help of several volunteers, they would transport around 200,000 books.

(Some of the documents & books in the library didn't make it out/were destroyed around January 2013) In the beginning they drove 600 mile (checkpoint filled) round trip again and again to each house that has volunteered to put their life on the line to save the books.

Eventually, that method became impossible, and he discovered he (and the other volunteers) only have one choice: FLOATING THE REST OF THE BOOKS DOWN THE NIGER RIVER. BOOKS. DOWN A RIVER. Seven Hundred Ninety One (791) TRUNKS/"footlockers" of BOOKS were sent down a river. You want to know how many made it? How many were recovered? ALL SEVEN HUNDRED NINETY ONE TRUNKS WORTH.

These books are literal relics. "Some date back to the 13th Century, and have survived more than 700 years." Bro, you are awesome, but you are going to give me a heart attack. Anyway, this some wild history and the art in these manuscripts is beautiful.

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suzy-queued · 1 month

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WEEKLY TAG WEDNESDAY - FIRSTS!

Thank you for the tags, @energievie @darlingian @creepkinginc @deedala

Name: Deena

Age: Two weeks away from being a miner forty-niner

First Pet? A stray cat I adopted named Blackington

First Word? Daddy

First Celebrity Crush? Harrison Ford

First IRL Crush? Oh, man. I don't know. I crushed on people for as long as I can remember.

First kiss? Vernon, in 8th grade. He was sweet, and I'm still (online) friends with him.

First Car? A Mitsubishi Cordia that looked a lot like a DeLorean.

First apartment/house/dorm/whatever away from your parents? College dorm at age 18.

First time on a plane? Flying to California at age 14.

First cellphone? I have no idea. It was tiny and was a pay-as-you-go.

First concert? I was a festival kid, going to concerts all the time with my parents. The first concert I actually chose was David Lee Roth and Poison.

First Foreign country you visited? Canada

First sport you ever played? I played T-ball for exactly one day. I cried so much I never played again.

First career aspiration? I wanted to be a librarian!

And finally… tell me about the first time you wrote/drew/created/whatever something that made you think “wow”

When I was maybe seven or eight, I drew the same rabbit every day. My mom complimented me on it, and that just made me draw it more. I liked the thrill of that compliment.

I'll tag ... @michellemisfit @look-i-love-u @francesrose3 @lingy910y @sleepyfacetoughguy @stocious

#tag games #about me

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sw33tsnow · 2 months

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Sculpture and you

Keegan x Artist!F!Reader (18+)

Summary: It was an accident which led to you both separation but Keegan knew how to fix his wrong doing, fixed it real good.

Warnings: NOT FOR MINORS, College!au: older!reader & younger!Keegan, mentions of injury, slight angst, fluff, heavy plot, smut: mommy!kink, desperate (?), swearing, footjob (m!receiving), oral (f!receiving), heavy praises, nipples play, mating press, unprotected sex (p in v), cum on stomach, etc. Wordcount: 8k1

NOTE(s):

I'M TERRIBLY APOLOGIZE FOR ANY GRAMMAR ERRS

Here are the paintings that've been mentioned in my writing: The Triumph of the Name of Jesus , Michelangelo’s titanic portrayal of the Old Testament Book of Genesis , Starry Night , Café Terrace At Night

So sorry for the wordcount ૮(˶╥︿╥)ა

Love equals a piece of artwork. It is brittle and prone to being damaged when it's initially incomplete, yet becomes remarkably solid when subjected to heat. But, it'll eventually shatter if you don't treasure it or put your mind to it well.

Situated on a nearby hill, your university is prominently displayed in the city flanked by the scent of damp soil and vibrant lush foliage that varies in shades depending on the seasons. A vast campus is formed on either side of the river that flows through the middle with the ever-present fog on the surface creating the most picturesque scenery you'd ever catch in your entire life. The majestic yet graceful architecture of seven buildings took years to design by the brilliant professors from all departments and to build, standing tall and proud like sentinels guarding your campus from all directions.

It could never be boastful to state that your university has a significant influence on the fine arts scene globally, and that you have worked so hard to succeed here.

The Visual Arts building - your course's tower, which housed the painting, drawing, and sculpture, was placed between the Architecture and Literature ones. That's quite convenient for you because, despite receiving excellent comments on your expertise and collaboration, you failed to get along with others in your course because nearly all of your buddies were Architecture department alumni. Perhaps that helped explain why you're sitting happily in the study hall which did not belong to your building, where from the librarian to the sophomores were so familiar with your constant presence that they didn't care to question.

However, you didn't show up to have fun this time. The theme for the architects' project was History and Religion and your bestfriend reached you because her junior had picked a topic closely related to the Visual Arts and required assistance.

"As an exemplary senior, I've to help my juniors as much as I can. Especially when it only costs three meals to repay the favor, right bestie?" And she batted her lashes at you, only to get a nod of approval from you to escape the cringeness that she offered.

Since your closest friend chose the construction of the Kölner Dom, a stunning specimen of Gothic architecture, as her topic, you must admit that you were a little dubious about this proposal. Architecture's learners do not show interest in any particular paintings, drawings, or sculptures. What fascinates them are the construction, the length of time the projects require to develop, the value and backstory.....blah blah blah, so much dull information that you couldn't help but groan each time she babbled into your ear.

Until you met Keegan.

He was a freshman, passed the tensing admission of your college four months ago. On the opening day, there was one pastime that the girls of all faculties had in common: gushing on the new students. Although you're not one of them, the seemingly never-ending parties and overwhelming adoration towards outstanding individuals undoubtedly added to the widespread fervor for Keegan.

A picture is worth a thousand words.

The boy had deep blue eyes and a remarkable height, he even had to bend down when going through the doors. You mistakenly thought he was a model because with that attractive visage and that masculine jawline, not to mention that his sturdy yet slim waist and protruding chest muscles were flaunted beautifully in a simple black T-shirt tucked into matching trousers. Silver belt buckle and chain necklace swing rhythmically with each step he took, the leather backpack hanging off one shoulder and those Timberland boots; it's awkward knowing that the keen eyes and meticulousness you inherited from your mother and have utilized primarily in your studies has proven to be so beneficial.

"Keeg, over here" One of the group's friends yelled.

The dark head spun around, his eyes shone like a lost child who had just found his siblings. He marched over to your table and took a seat opposite to you right away. Much to your surprise, Keegan’s quite reserved, which is pleasant for you because at least the boy still has something in common with those who constantly have a pair of thick glasses glued to their face; and because you’re pretty bad at dealing with arrogant punks.

Impressively, not focusing on gigantic and iconic geometric features, Keegan has picked two of the finest ceiling decorations in Rome.

“I still can't decide between The Sistine Chapel and The Gesù, so I need your advice. You don't mind, right?”

Attentive and respectful. He was probing your expression, as if didn't want you to feel uncomfortable working with him.

"Of course not"

Keegan grumbled softly at hearing your courteous response and turned away to retrieve his laptop from his rucksack.

"Uhm hmm, not yet" Your best friend murmured, prompting you to turn and stare at her with a puzzled frown.

Then the boy took out his laptop, and instead of the original casing, there was the well-known Starry Night painting by the begetter Vincent Van Gogh.

"Did you draw that?" Pointing at the case, the corners of your mouth curved up and your eyes widened slightly in amusement.

"Ah, yes.....this's just my own taste cus I'm not really drawn to Picasso's blocks and color scheme nor adopt the surrealism like Salvador Dalí" Genuinely he spoke, "Do you also like Van Gogh as well?"

Raising your eyebrows before flipping the phone onto a table over, the drawing of Café Terrace At Night was likewise repainted on your phone case. That successfully earned a comfortable chuckle from Keegan, and you casted a innuendo glance at your best friend, who was already beaming mischievously at you.

From his penchant for style to his distinct standpoint on artists to the two religious structures he opted for as the focus of his task, Keegan has more surprises than you expect from him. There also did not appear to be a disagreement between your ideas, since your aesthetic preferences were clearly comparable.

The venue that he selected was Rome, also referred to as the Eternal City. Any discussion on ceiling paintings in this ‘never-ending array of fabulous churches and palaces’ city must start with what is arguably the most well-known artwork in art history: Michelangelo’s titanic portrayal of the Old Testament Book of Genesis. It’s hard to envision the sheer scale of the work of 175 separate pictorial fields containing over 300 monumental figures, including thundering prophets, ancient seers and statuesque nudes, also known as ignudi, framing the central narratives of the creation of the world. At the very centre of this epic biblical narrative is the most iconic scene of all - the moment when God gives life to his magnificent human creation with a single touch of index fingers. Elsewhere God is working diligently to complete the endeavor of creating a world that his human charges can thrive in. Here he divides light from darkness, and there he separates land from ocean. Tosses the sun, moon, and distant planets into the void in one scenario, and becomes a divine horticulturist by conjuring flora and fauna out of thin air in another. Yet not each and every detail is rosy upon the Sistine Chapel ceiling. Not too long do Adam and Eve find themselves in challenges, incapable to resist the forbidden fruit that an evil serpent offers, and all that follows falls to hell in the next scenes as the sorrowful couple is banished from Eden. Things only become worse as humanity descends deeper into depravity, culminating in the horrific Flood sequence where much of the world is submerged beneath the swelling waves of God's wrath. When Michelangelo's astounding fresco cycle was eventually shown in just four years of almost superhuman activity to a feverish public in 1512, the world was suitably amazed. He was hailed as the greatest artist of his, or any other generation, and the history of art was to be altered forever.

About The Triumph of the Name of Jesus, which you suggested more. In the wake of the call to arms of the Counter-Reformation for a renewed emphasis on the ability of art to astound the faithful with astounding feats of painterly virtuosity, Roman artists went above and beyond in their pursuit of pushing the boundaries of their craft in the numerous magnificent new churches that were appearing all over the city. Among the most luxurious of them all was the Gesù, the mother church of the newly founded Jesuit order. The magnificent church's interior, finished in 1584, is a treasure trove of priceless artwork, but what truly excels visitors is the spectacular paintings that were painted on the dome and ceiling a century later. Il Baccicio, the artist, seemed to have created a miracle that is solely appropriate for the hallowed surroundings. As you cast your gaze upwards, the church's vault appears to vanish into a whirling mass of clouds, providing a clear glimpse into the celestial sphere of heaven. The Triumph of the Name of Jesus was the one dear subject matter to the Jesuits' hearts. Immersed in dazzling rays of celestial light, the monogram of Christ's name looms at the very core of the ceiling, encircled by a plethora of angels and holy beings enthralled with the miracle. By the mere mention of Christ's name, rebel angels tempted by Satan's hollow promises of power were defeated and tumbled illusionistically from the vault in a tangle of grotesque limbs and painful poses. Baroque bombast at its best together with the free combination of painting, sculpture, and architecture fosters a theatrical, multi-sensorial, and three-dimensional ensemble - Baccicio's enormous fresco guaranteed The Gesù's place as one of the most significant pilgrimage sites in Rome during the 17th century.

The fact that Keegan shared and conversed the knowledge which every Visual Arts learner has plainly knew like the back of their hands with you was certainly impressive. Disparities with shapes, colors, and patterns; the balance between the frames and, more especially, Keegan's art-related approach is incredibly unrestricted and free. Much too refined an aesthetic sense for an architect of his caliber.

You two were so wrapped up in your work that the other friends had to remind you that it's almost time for the study hall to close, not realizing the two hours went by rather quickly. Silently, you sighed as you packed up your stuff, aware that you might not get to see Keegan again. It's extremely difficult to come across someone who suits you like that, after all. Despite your pout of discontent, you said everyone farewell and began to leave.

"Wait!" The boy called after you in a hurry, so you stopped and gestured to your best friend to wait for you in the parking lot.

Even though you're shorter than Keegan, this posture of him was as if he just got scolded by you as the boy scratched his head and stared down to the floor. Humming speechlessly because he couldn't find the right word , you were patient to wait for him to continue.

"Every day after school.....are you free?" He raised his voice timidly.

"It depends, what's wrong?" You inquired again, carefully, so as not to press the issue.

"Just, if it's okay, can you teach me how to paint.....I mean, doodling is fine" He quickly added, "Please....don't say no"

With a grin, you lifted that attractive face to face you by your index finger under his chin, "I can teach you everything about visual arts, as long as you don't criticize my limited abilities sweet boy"

Keegan flushed as he heard your teasing and the pet name you gave him, but managed to nod with his lips pursed.

For several months, Keegan consistently showed up on time. He waited for you to finish your lectures before the two of you headed to any random tools room in order to practice. You taught him almost everything: molding ceramics, sketching then painting on canvas frames, or how to create tertiary hues......

Exams requiring greater expertise, such those for oil painting or sculpturing, could come around sometimes. If you allowed Keegan to assist you, you'd stand right next to him, holding his hand, and pressing his larger fingers onto those details that needed extra attention. Of course, you were deliberately interacting closely with the boy but there was no denying the sparks between you both as well.

You're different from the people Keegan knew. You refuse to care about things that didn't concern you, so when you first met you seemed quite formal; you also possessed quite dark humor, which definitely interfered with your artistic fancy.

Actually, you admired Italian painter Roberto Ferri even more. Roberto's works reflected what you're seeking in various pieces of art - the shading and coloration, the nudity and amalgamating were not jarring or confusing, but rather extremely precise and incisive. You elaborated once that 'Contrariety is necessary', nevertheless, as with other fields. It was previously remarked by your professor that your taste in artistry is sort of….dark and vulgar, they suggested that an extremely distinct portrayal would be beneficial for stimulating the artist's brain system. So you decided to go with Vincent Van Gogh. You valued him because he was influenced by painters like Monet and Renoir, who embraced New Impressionism, and shared a fascination in light with them. But he quickly established his own unique: powerful brush technique, mainly using warm reds, oranges, and yellows. Subtle brush strokes resulted in powerful and striking visualizations.

“And basically because a tiny frame as my phone case couldn’t fully convey Ferri's painting and the content was also more sensitive” Similar to Van Gogh's art was definitely the more suitable option.

That's how you explained when the younger one started to ask way too many questions rather than focusing on his work.

Keegan found it fascinating that you're quite flirty and enjoy calling others by pet names as he got to know you better. The boy flushed upon hearing you calling your best friend by tons of intimate names that you gave her. You also compliment a lot, but what's bothered Keegan was the way, the tone in which you delivered them.

Your voice is a bit lower, sounding like you're purring. Good job, That's it, Perfect for his efforts and Pretty boy, Sweetheart, Love for the times when you two talked outside the box.

Keegan always felt as though there was a dulcet shiver traveling down his spine after earning praises from you; itching but intriguing somehow. And in return, he called you Tutor, his tutor, to both tease and offer his appreciation for the guidance which you're happily imparted without assuming any explanations from him. For instance, why did he choose Architecture and not Visual Arts?

You respect his privacy, he knew. You still tended to him, but not in an uncomfortable way, making him willing to be lured to your side more and more.

Everything was going so well until a few weeks ago. Keegan abruptly grew more and more aloof. Frequently, he would either cancel in the last-minute or the night before, leaving you disappointed and not understanding why. You assumed there was something special between you and him. Yet, after he returned, you were overjoyed at first but eventually grew uneasy around him as he became angrier, more easily agitated, and no longer wanted to be close to you.

He wanted to try whittling this time. Unlike stone or clay, which could be readily crafted, the main substance used was wood.

Wood and other hard materials are usually tough to mold, and Keegan was plainly not capable of handling them given his greeness. But whenever he gave up and you just sighed then redone the whole log, it still simply caused disappointment if it didn't turn out the way he wanted. You knew that Keegan was under a lot of pressure due to the art program's periodic exams so you've attempted to steer him toward a more agreeable subject, but his stubbornness proved to be a bothersome obstacle.

So you merely stood in the corner of the room and gazed at that enormous back for that reason. Your head slightly tilted to take a better view of a coating of sweat adhered to his forehead and his eyebrows furrowed as his lips pursed when the boy was unable to come up with ideas. The soft gestures in stark contrast to his veiny arms always made you wet your lips in silence.

They said ‘Men are most charismatic when they're focused’. And you couldn’t agree more.

If he caught you, like before, he would purposefully poke fun at you and garner an eye roll from you before your enraged fingers pinched a part of his sculptures. Superb reprisal.

But shit was different that day....

"Fuck me, why is it so difficult?" Keegan complained with his raspy voice, throat as parched as the Sahara desert from dehydration for quite a while.

"I'll go fetch something to drink”

“No need….here” You quickly stopped him, reached into your bag and pulled out your water bottle, and tossed it to him, “Don’t want you to get kicked out of here”

According to the rules at your university, you risk being expelled if, after office hours, you enter the wrong building as a non-student belonging to that specific department.

“Alright, whatever you say” He spoke as holding up his hands in a surrendering gesture.

Which made you scrunch your face due to his disrespectful manner.

"Are you upset about me raising my voice?" Catching your grimace, Keegan mockingly raised his question.

He was always playful, but at the time, he's being snarky toward you. And you detest that so much.

"Concentrate on your work" Maintaining the monotone tone but lowering your voice a bit in order to show authority, you slowly moved closer to his standing.

"Don't touch" The boy glared.

You folded both hands behind you, focusing entirely on the piece of wood rather than Keegan. He also resumed his motion, occasionally crouching down to search for sketches that had been discarded somewhere or different carving knives.

Interruptedly, you and Keegan would talk about approaches to improving the origin log, but the discussion quickly devolved into another argument, so he snubbed you and turned away to continue. For fuck sake, these teenage lads' egos are so goddamn tremendous. You're solely offering advice, not imposing; why would he behave like that?

Just take a look around....The floor beneath his feet, where tools were being flung and numerous strewn bits of pared timber scattered all over. Your mother used to frequently nag you when you were a kid because of your untidy traits, plus, that terrible habit would get you into trouble eventually.

And as predicted, when the boy turned to retrieve his palette, he neglected to take out the blade, leaving it lodged in the wood. So undoubtedly, you have to remove it to avoid any potential dangers.

"I told you not to touch it!"

Turning back and seeing you touching the most difficult mosaic area that he had just completed, Keegan barked and quickly paced to violently nudge your hand away.

There was a faint sound of something sharp cutting through the spongy softness, and the knife had left a sweet, delicate line which broadened from your palm all the way to your chelidon. Because the blade is designed to precisely carve into small spaces so your veins did not splash out any gallon of your sweet crimson; instead, one drop, then two drops, and at last, like sap oozing out from a tree trunk - your arm have unleashed waves of red fluid, dripping onto the chilly surface below.

With a hiss, you quickly reached for your thin blouse and tightly wrapped it around your arm to halt the bleeding. It wasn't painful, but the stinging and burning that were given seemed as if your skin was being roasted over an intense flame, forcing you to shut your eyes to block out the suffering.

"F-fuck...oh fuck..." Keegan's voice trembled, "I told you not to come closer"

You slowly turned around, tightly sealed lids opened and penetrated straight into his sapphire pupils. Menacing expression made him gulp.

"Don't blame others for your carelessness, Russ" You gritted your teeth, "If it weren't for me, you would have to ask the professor’s permission for submitting your assignment late, so be grateful and quit that attitude of yours, eh?"

Every word, laced with venom as you amplified them. It's true that he's also working on his test, so the boy was too stunned to speak, dumbfounded and did not dare to chase after you as you stormed out of the room.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_

It's the beginning of autumn, the sky was pouring, and dry leaves that are tinted with ocher and lemon were falling everywhere throughout the campus, adding to your already melancholy mood.

Two weeks of nonattendance on account of an implausible excuse, such a car accident, as it's a violation to the law to arbitrarily use the college facilities and supplies other than during regular instructional sessions.

The lobby, which was crammed to excess and devoid of standing space, had become vacant by now. After all, your class was the last one of the day, thus it's unsurprising that the place was quiet without a soul in sight. You stayed back late to wait and chat with the professor about some unfinished school work since you dislike having to jostle, surely not to avoid meeting somebody.

Dark green moss off-shoulder knitted sweater with stretchy jeans and a pair of Dr.Martens leather boots. As you drainedly opened the locker to store your things, the voice that had become ingrained in your memory appeared somewhere behind you.

“I texted you about the injury, but you didn’t reply”

Fucking bad timing, you cussed under your breath.

“My mother said she’d chop me into pieces if I dare to hold a paintbrush, let alone texting” You answered curtly, wanting to shoo Keegan away.

“Oh….so is yo—”

“My arm ‘s alright by now, you don’t have to worry ‘bout it…” You shutted him off, clearly didn’t have enough patience to deal with him, “I have to go, bye Keegan”

Turning swiftly on your heel then immediately getting captured by the younger person by your wrist, you pushed out a deep sigh before frowning and glancing up at the person who was blocking the path in front of you.

“Slow down, hey, I just want to talk—” He retreated his palm right away, “I-I want to apologize for what…uhm...”

It's been a while since you've witnessed this withdrawn and reserved side of him, but you're so fatigued that you didn't want to talk to or give a damn about anyone. The boy seemed to have realized how you were suppressing your discomfort and has moved back, returning you back your personal space.

“Please, I’m terribly sorry for my precipitation, I didn’t mean to make you bleed”

Keegan didn't want you to ever leave on your own again because of his past foolishness, so he reminded himself to maintain his distance and remain composed. You understanded that Keegan was truly sincere in his intention to make it up to you, and yet you did not ask him to. It's not like you saved him or something, plus, you hate the thought of someone owing you a favor or anything similar.

“It’s just an accident, Keegan” You exhaled, punctuation, end of discussion.

If possible, you wish to never see him again. You always find a way to avoid confronting your complex emotions since you're not very good at facing them and nothing else can give you a sense of security other than that.

"Then can you, please, one last time...." He spoke in a somewhat softer, more beseeching tone, ".....Be my tutor"

As if being haunted by his previous mockery, you searched for irony in those stunning eyes, and you found none. There's also a determination that rendered it impossible to argue against, so you have no choice but to approve.

Keegan followed you to your regular spot. Because it's the weekend, even the janitors had fled as soon as their shifts ended, leaving the entire campus to you two. You were correct to assume that, all thanks to the two-way, one facing the parking lot and the other towards the campus, which had taken the place of the room's two walls, showing only Keegan's bike there. Since the art building is regarded as your university's maze, students from other departments couldn't find you two so you certainly wouldn't be disturbed.

Unfortunately, there weren't enough necessary items and tools, you decided to paint on the canvas as usual.

Setting down your backpack, you faced the exterior and silently observed the younger one, waiting for his request. Keegan swallowed hard, hating the distance between you two. You fixed your gaze on him as though a slight movement of yours might result in a reprimand.

Fucking fool, he scolded himself.

"I....I want you to model f-for me" He scratched his head.

"A-and I got this piece of white silk....y-you can do whatever you want with it" he said hurriedly, frightened you might turn him down.

Seriously? Do whatever you want with it. What Keegan just said made him truly want to smack the shit out of him so bad.

You tilted your head in silent thought. Obviously, sketching the body lines proved difficult enough but adding the garments unveiled an extra challenge entirely. That explained for your nod and your gradual removal of the clothing covering your body. Starting with your boots, then your jeans and panties, but for your upper body, you couldn't do it yourself.

"Get the silk then come here, please, I need a hand"

The request wasn't coerced, and you did not send it out like a command. Though you were not a people pleaser, Keegan always both loathed but admired your civility. The boy was aware that you're not the type to readily undress for others to view, yet something about your professional face unnerved him.

Grabbing the silk, Keegan cleared his throat and walked over to you. He waited for you to grant him permission before gingerly catching the edge of your sweater and pulling it over your head. Then the bra, which was simple to unclasp with one hand. The final bit of cloth slipped off your body, revealing you to the boy whose ears and face were as red as a ripped tomato due to your angelic bare physique.

"Are you gonna start?" You inquired and took the silk from the other person's hand.

And Keegan frantically ran to drag a divan for you to sit on.

The white silk piece was extremely lengthy but thin, resembling a stream that covered your entire body. The feather-like friction caused your nipples to tighten a bit, and your palm nonchalantly covered the tender region between your legs, creating an elegant yet equally alluring sight. You were aware that you weren't blessed with an aesthetically pleasing figure, but the tent that could not be appeased at the crotch of the artist across from you was enough to provide you a boost in your performance.

Whether it's an ordinary biological response or another type of reaction...

Your muscles were sore from maintaining the same posture for a long time. As you raised your gaze to Keegan, he saw and paused to give you both a moment to rest.

"Tired?" You asked when the boy stretched.

"I'm the one who should ask that, tutor" Keegan snickered. Oh the sound he made never failed to make you smile as well.

Standing up, the boy pushed past his work and knelt down before you to gently massage your calf with his warm hands. Keegan didn't raise his head, rather, he concentrated on aiding you in stretching your muscles. Needless to say, Keegan was deeply ashamed for his reckless behavior as well as the impulsive words that followed. Though it's clearly not between the two of you, there's still a problem, and since you're not a nosy person, you weren't sure how to approach him.

"My parents found out...." He bitterly confessed, "They broke the clay piece I made with you - two halves of the face kissing each other"

At that moment, your breathing stopped and your chest tightened when you learned the reason for the boy's sudden alienation.

"But that's not an excuse" He bit his lip, "I was an asshole, a truly fucking asshole.....You know, art a-and you are the only safe place I ever had. But I’ve treated you wrong, so wrong"

Reaching for your wounded arm, he planted kisses along the sunken scar that owned a brighter pigmentation on your flesh. His tender and mindful gestures truly broke your heart.

"I'm sorry...I'm really sorry, I shouldn’t have, I should never treat you that way" His voice sounded ruptured, like it had been violently trodden upon, yet it likewise sounded like a growl.

"Why didn't you tell me?" You gingerly whispered.

Keegan's eyes were glassy and his orbs compared to two polished pearls, constantly wavering in misery. He didn’t know what to say or how to say it.

The divorce that resulted from one of Keegan's parents having an affair was the lowest point in his life. They filed a lawsuit in court, but neither one was willing to give the other child custody, so he ended up living under a rotten roof. All the dreams the boy had have been extinguished, they no longer meant anything. Allowing them to control his life in the way they wanted, forcing him to study like a dog day and night, and only bringing him the meals that were enough to meet his basic nutritional needs. When his passion for painting was once again re-awakened, Keegan did all in his ability to persuade his parents for the first time to let him decide his future, but they disdained art so much that they made him study architecture instead. Once again, Keegan's purposeless life has returned. He took a gap of four years to join the military, but his parents refused to leave him in solitude. They threatened to use greater punishments if he resisted again, stating that they forbade him from dying on the battlefield.

How ironic, can you be forbidden to die? Ever?

Thankfully, after entering in this university, Keegan no longer had to live with his parents, letting him have more freedom for himself. Up until Keegan met you, it appeared that his typical university years were not proceeding along in the same way anymore.

The boy fought to not shed a tear in front of you as his lips quivered whilst he recalled those painful memories. Knowing that no matter what, you wouldn't defame him, but vulnerability has never been on Keegan's mind.

“Hush, my sweet boy” Bending down and connecting yours with the boy's forehead, you cooed.

It was some time before the younger one calmed down. As Keegan's breathing steadied, you gradually withdrew to look him in his eyes, your hands caressing his cheeks and your thumbs lightly rubbing them in comfort. It made you smile warmly to hear him purring in his throat like a cat being cuddled by its master.

“Feel better now?”

“Mhmm” He shook his head.

“Oh poor baby, what can I do to cheer you up then?” You giggled.

Out of the blue, Keegan took hold of your foot and placed it on his crotch, gently applying pressure and moving it back and forth to arouse the sensitive area beneath the fabric. And you were so taken aback that you couldn't take your eyes off where the boy was using your foot to pursue his pleasure. You've never imagined Keegan would be so straightforward.

"Ah...I-I'm...oh g-god..." He lowered his head and nibbled the skin on your thigh, "Can you -ah- feel my cock twitching f-for you, ma’am?"

Ma’am?

“Can I call you ma’am….?” He’s breathing heavily, “In the end….ha a-ah…you’re still gonna be my tutor anyways, right?”

You blinked and then suddenly burst out laughing, and Keegan foolishly laughed along with you. Whipped your head down and moved your digits closer to his lips, you eagerly allowed Keegan to play with your foot as he moistened your fingers with his tongue. His soft tongue gilded back and forth between your pointer and middle fingers, and each time you bit your lip, his cheeks would sink in to suck them. It's amazing how different Keegan looked from what you imagined.

“How ‘bout mommy?” Poking your tongue to your inner cheek, you asked while still dancing your fingers with his tongue.

Of course, without hesitation, he nodded aggressively and continued to suck harder on your digits. But then you withdrew your hand and leg, making the boy whined in frustration and rubbed his head in your lap.

"N-no...no please don't do that...." He pouted, "I was so close...."

"Shhh...be a good boy and you'll get what you want" You murmured softly, and Keegan's body shivered as your lips touched his sensitive ear.

You raised an eyebrow and gave Keegan a satisfied smile in response to his yearning gaze. Instantly the boy drew closer, his lips meeting yours. Tongues intertwined, teeth scraping and lower lips bitten and swollen, you lowered your head to deepen the lustful, making Keegan groaned in pleasure.

"Moan for me, Keeg" You broke away from the kiss, moved down and bit his neck, "I wanna hear you, loud and clear"

And he obediently tagged along, his lips trembling as he continually let out muffled whines and mellow groans. The boy's body swayed in response to the sensation of your lips against his flesh.

"C-can I make you feel good, too, mommy?" He wetted his lips, hands reaching up to gently knead the soft plumpness on your chest with an unabashed greed.

"Hmm? You wanna suck my tits?" Your voice trailed off, teasing him

"Yes, yes, please"

As soon as you nodded, the boy reached to the thin layer of silk and started squeezing your breasts which were set underneath. His large palms dutifully kneaded your feminine parts, mouth bit and sucked, leaving countless love marks from your jawline to your cleavage. You're just so soft, he couldn't get enough of it, of these beautiful breasts waiting to be fed to him. As his movements took over his mind, Keegan threw away the unhandy cloth, lunged forward to nibble the sides of your chest; his tongue circled each, constantly retreating to bounce them in his hands, making satisfying noises while latching on them again and again, non-stop.

“C’mon, don’t be shy” You cocked your head down to your chest, beckoning the younger person who was drooling over your delicious rosy nipples.

Keegan was indeed a good boy when you didn't have to repeat, shoving his face right into one of your bosoms without wasting anymore time. The first sensation you felt was his lips; he kissed them, then kept pinching and rotating them around with his teeth, prompting you to growl at the sting he brought. His fingers massaged the other one, taking good care of both sides equally, just like that - the boy was too devoured into you. However, that was still not enough. With a 'pop' as Keegan released you, he lifted your breasts and pulled them in, pointing your nipples towards the middle of your chest. Warm, pink tongue deftly rolled up and down, in between, wrapping around your buds. He twirled it, circled it around your hard nipples; lusty saliva was way too audible, irresistible ecstasy clenched your legs together and you kept pushing your chest harder to his face.

“F-fuck…you’re doing so good -ha- so good” And he glazed his teeth tighter, “Yes! Fuckin— just like that pretty boy”

Your fingers reaching the boy's scalp, your nails clasped and lightly scratched his cleanly shaven nape, evoking more sinful groans from Keegan. His orbs, dilated with need, blown wide to meet yours, and his lashes fluttered somewhat, as though he wanted you to keep praising him.

The thought of Keegan focusing on you as if you're a goddess, a faith, to be treasured and worshiped only by him, gave you chills.

Tilting your head back, your own feverish thoughts had heightened your arousal yet left the younger person unfulfilled.

“Tch…no” Keegan let go of your breasts, cupping your cheeks with both of his hands and pulling your face back into its place, “No, no….why’re you turning away, mommy? Keep those eyes on me, let me see…let me see them piercing a hole into my soul”

Trailing his strong, muscular arms down your lower body, Keegan grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer to him. The suddenness of your knees buckled by your shoulders, exposing the glistening pussy dragged a quite loud yelp out of your lips. As your back sank down the divan cushions, your midsection had been folded in and the stomach rolls which always gave you insecurity made you hesitant to keep extending your legs. So you attempt to sit up, how on earth did Keegan allow that?

“I know what you’re thinking mommy, and I don’t give a fuck ‘bout that” The boy spoke, maintaining his intense eyes on you.

“I want you to own me, treat me like your fucking slave, use me as much as you fucking want, yeah?” He spitted on your cunt, making you moaned out like a bitch in heat. “I’m your little slut” he grunted, “I’m your little toy….I am, I am, fucking just for you” he whispered, teeth gritted as he punctuated on each word.

The boy kissed your ankle, bent down and nibbled on the back of your thighs and the sides of your buttocks. His large palms greedily caressed your asscheeks, not forgetting to add a few spanks.

“Use me, give me fucking confidence….give me a will to live, mommy” He plead, “Give me that fucking pussy”

All your embarrassment has vanished into thin air, leaving only devastating elation. And Keegan, who had been waiting for that, launched himself at your glistering cunt and immediately became addicted to the taste of your arousal. He lavishly covered your entire pussy with open-mouth kisses, his lips pressed firmly and gulping nonstop, smearing your juices all over his visage and down to your asshole, getting some fucking prohibited moans out of you.

The younger then stopped, long enough to take in your beautiful two holes close up as he examined the sweet long slit.

“Lemme sniff on it” He inhaled the sweet, musky scent of your cunt, “Let your boy breathe on it, mommy, lemme look at it twitching for me”

Your body responded instinctively, pussy quivering beneath his heated breaths. Before you realized it, he had already let go of your legs to fully spread out your folds and was burying his face against your bare cunt once more. His nose nudged above your entrance and his tongue began to work in seconds, sinking and churning the inside of you.

“Oh fu— YES, more Keeg….more” Your body trembled violently as your desire for additional pleasure grew, reaching out to clutch on him.

Keegan’s four fingers pressed firmly on your lower abdomen as he began to lick up and down your slit while using his thumb which was only inches above your pearl to pull the folds around away. And when your hood moved away, the boy finally had your blood-swollen clit sitting there in front of his lust blown pupils. It’s puffy, aching and throbbing. It’s calling for him, he assured that. Receiving your loud moans as an encouragement, Keegan softly hummed directly on your rock hard clit as he continued to stimulate your hole by landing his tongue against it. His digits buried deeply inside your pussy and he increased the pace, pumping in and out, rotating them, and curling them so as they scratched your walls vigorously.

Without backing down, the younger one flicked his tongue, rubbing it up and down unforgivingly on your pearl. You jointed and fought to squirm out of Keegan's hold, only to be held back by him as his teeth bit down. You were too fucked out when his lips swallowed on your clit, thighs began to squeeze either side of his head due to the fantastic feeling.

“Mhm hmm, that’s it….” The boy continued to work his tongue and fingers on you as quickly as possible, “That’s my mommy, c’mon, keep squeezing me with those thighs….yeah, stare at me -uhm- stare at your pretty boy as he eat your pussy out”

Those fucking praises and the way he avaricious desire to attain your climax at all costs as a reward has successfully pushed you to the edge. The familiar hot cramping in your womb beneath your lower belly was fleeting for just a moment and then your scream of satisfaction came out, your hands clamped down on Keegan's head above your cunt to jerk your hips on his naughty mouth, riding out your high.

“Fuck…f-fuck” Your chest heaved rapidly, “You’re a fucking beast”

“And you did not let me go, tho I’m not intending to pull away either” The boy peered up with the shit-eating grin on his face before lowering down to smooch around your cunt one last time.

You giggled as Keegan scattered a trail of kisses all over your physique. Your lips, your navel, and your collarbone. You additionally show your gratitude by tucking your arms around his solid shoulder blades, lifting him above you to prolong the passionate kiss.

Exquisite - the divine taste of your release from his mouth, delicate - the way your lips clung firmly, and submerged - the way your tongues entwine without separating.

The moment was short lived since your waist was scraped by something stiff. You winced a little as you recoiled from the kiss, peered down, and were enchanted to catch a glimpse of Keegan's manhood - it was just... gorgeous. Only when you two pressed right against each other did the freshly shaven pubic hair of his gave you a nice itchy sensation. Your pelvises were adhered together so you could gauge the length, and the tip of his cock, which was already partially hard, was leaking precum onto your stomach.

“Satisfied?” Keegan lifted his brows and inquired when he noticed you gulping and staring at his lower torso.

You beamed up at the younger one, stretching down to grab his ass, “I promise to make a sculpture of it”

The boy's low and seductive laugh was suppressed when he forced retained his breath while your grip moved lightly to position him directly in front of your awaiting cunt, not before brushing his head to gather the most of your slick. As a gesture to allow him to climb up to kneel on the divan, your other elbow pushed down to slightly elevate the center of your body up a bit.

“Ready?”

Keegan only gave you a brief kiss on your temple and leaned your foreheads together without saying anything. The two of you seemed to share the same breath, holding together when he plunged into you and exhaling together as he truly bottomed out. Your own eyes blurred with the startling fullness he provided you with.

“You’re so warm mommy, fuck, too warm” The younger hissed through a barely contained growl.

Swallowing hard, you shifted your airflow and wiggled your hips in an attempt to adjust with the new intrusion. Fortunately, you're not an imposing person. Little by little, your pussy gradually loosened and accepted him, and his head flew back as his unwavering control slipped inch by inch, not so different from the way his shaft was slowly entering you.

“Move, love, need to feel you deep inside me”

Sheathing Keegan deeper into you, you purposefully pressed your hips against his, whispering into his ear. For a few while, the younger one remained idling, realizing that you were showing him the sweet spots inside you. So whenever you heard him mewling like a horny dog, biting upon your lower lip gently as he felt your walls fluttered around him. You knew he was memorizing for his own pleasure, as well as that of you.

Failing to bear it any longer, Keegan sat up and tenderly pulled out his manhood. At first, you assumed him to be gentle, but you were incredibly naive. He struck with such ruthlessness that your breath left your lungs in a passionate symphony of his name and contented moans. Angling your legs on one side of his shoulder, Keegan caged your thighs with both of his arms and pinned them there. His pace was too rough, and the tension that followed made it simpler to sense the boy's steadfast heartbeat as your skin rested smoothly on his broad chest.

“Keeg– Keegan, shit…”

Keegan knelt in front of you - hair slightly damp from perspiration that partially stuck to his forehead and partially dangled with the tempo of his body's movements, those massive biceps, muscular legs, and taut waist all flexed as he hammered into your core. The room's dim lighting and your glassy eyes granted the younger person the appearance of a finely sculpted statue, an unreal portrait.

Fuck, “You look so beautiful, oh my beautiful boy”

I knew it might be an exaggeration but here, is your Björn Johan Andrésen. Exclusively yours.

“Ha–ah….yours, I’m all yours” With an ominous grin, Keegan drew forward to murmur, "And you're also mine, right?"

However, you were so engrossed in the pleasure that you failed to respond. That explained why the person above suddenly pulled back, leaving you there clenching around nothing. When you started to prop yourself up, he swiftly folded you in half, locking you in that position.

“Put your co—”

“Nah….you’re gonna say it” With one hand, Keegan pressed your knees to your chest while the other was lazily stroking his cock. Glazing the tip so damn nigh to your bloated entrance.

“For fuck sake, of course I’m yours” You huffed out, “As if any fucking cock could ever allowed to be inside me”

Surely the younger one's erection had returned because a lustful stupor hit you as his pelvis immediately slammed into your plump ass. Up to the hilt. He had reached your cervix with the tip of his cock, ache yet madly numb.

“You’re my mommy, my mistress, my fucking big tough mistress aren’t ya?” He eagerly pounding into you, in a more primal way, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckkk…..you’re so damn hot when you’re mad, y’know that?”

“Yeah?” You smirked.

“Fucking yeah”

The harder Keegan pounded into you, the louder the moans of you both came to a crescendo, almost at the peak. Since you knew you wouldn't be able to hold off for much longer, you had to encircle him more tightly with your legs, flutter your walls, and swallow his cock more deeply to ensure that his body would soon follow you.

“You're gonna cum mommy? Yeah, yeah, cum for me mommy, cum, cum, cum” Keegan shifted down and rubbed your swollen clit with great effort, making you cry as his finger plucked nonstop on it.

The younger person's chants ended with a growl from both you and him. He replaced his shaft with his thick digits, slipping out barely in time since you didn't have a condom. You both focused on the earth-shattering orgasm, on how his cock twitched in his palm and on his ropes of hot seed shooting onto your abdomen, dripping down to your wide-opened cunt, unable to stop.

Swore that you two had never felt so euphoric.

You laid limp under his sight, eyes flooded in darkness as you looked to the drop of sweat slowly leaving his chin then down to your navel, mixed together with his cum.

Keegan collapsed on top of you, head buried into your neck. His weight was comforting, and as your fingers trailed to your lower body, you collected the white thick texture there and brought it to your lips, sticking out your tongue to taste then smiled with a satisfied hum.

"I want to draw you like this" The boy stared upward at you, smiling brightly.

“Should take a photo too, in case you mess up and let me down for posing for you” Keegan tickled you when you kissed him on the lips in response to your cruel mocking.

Having said that, you still truly want to see his painting - of you, what it'll turn out once completed.

Taglist: @shadowlali , @ghostlythots , @fl3xgio (is it alright if i add you?? 😫😫) , @brickwall035 (saw u a lot on my posts, wondering if i can add u?? 👉🏻👈🏻)

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