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insomniumstella · 2 years ago

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spice & honey

bucky x baker!reader

summary: cinnamon buns and wickedly strong coffee must be the only reasons James Buchanan Barnes visits your bakery daily, despite the inconvenience of driving to a small town on the outskirts of Upstate New York. right?

warnings: first dates and crushes (absolutely classified as warnings), mead consumption, a curse word or two, soft!bucky

word count: 4,565

author's note: i've been watching Gilmore Girls a little too much lately (hence the little easter egg). on another note, autumn is my favourite season, so prepared to be sick of James attending harvest festivals and drinking apple cider 🍂🥧🎃

all the stories i've written

September 21st marks the official arrival of Autumn. Though the weather has been rather cheerful lately, today’s air is much crisper and heavier with the promise of looming rain. The streets of Eldermont remain far too green to your dismay, but Spice & Honey—the bakery you’ve owned for the past five years—is rich in shades of marigold and copper. A wide assortment of mugs, mostly in various shapes of pumpkins, and spiced teas, line the shelves, while the fresh jars of apple butter are neatly stacked alongside the register. Besides the usual treats, the glass display teems with seasonal favourite pumpkin tarts and apple cider donuts.

The everlasting chatter of customers and soft sounds of a vintage record you scored at a neighbour’s garage sale just last month saturate the space as you place the second batch of cinnamon rolls on the counter. The clock reads 10:57 AM, and though you’ve been attempting to conceal your excitement, Vivienne could sense it the second you stepped through the door, teasing you about the very special visitor who’s always in need of sugary buns and black coffee at exactly five past eleven.

James Buchanan Barnes is a regular customer, you often argue. The nervous babble, flustered movements, and beaming smiles convey otherwise. And so yes, you might have a little bit of a schoolgirl crush on the freakishly tall, muscular brunette who brings in the latest editions of The Culinary Canvas magazine each Monday and notices the smallest of changes in your recipes. Just maybe, you reluctantly ponder when your thoughts inadvertently wander to that charming grin and baby blue eyes every time you knead the dough for his adored treat — a dessert once reserved for Autumn suddenly available year around.

“Staring at the entrance won’t make time pass quicker,” Vivienne whispers, arranging butterscotch cupcakes by the pumpkin tarts.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whisper back, covering the pans with aluminum foil.

Perhaps hiding the pastries, a favourite amongst Spice & Honey shoppers, is not the best business decision, but Eldermont is merely a small town in Upstate New York. If it wasn’t located a thirty minute drive south of the Avengers compound, most people wouldn’t be aware of its presence in the first place. And besides, everybody in Eldermont is connected to everybody — the town holds no secrets, including the pastries you keep warm and frost fresh.

“The tall, dark, and handsome man,” she points out, “still has a few minutes. Perchance the preparations of Eldermont’s Annual Harvest Festival made it trickier to find parking.” Vivienne turns to you with a mirthful grin, the cupcakes resting perfectly positioned in the glass case. “You should invite him. Heard Brad brewed an incredible batch of apple cider mead this year.”

You sigh, snatching the golden tray out of her grasp. “I’m not asking Bucky out.”

“Ah! Bucky!” The woman’s grin widens. “Forgot his name for a second.” Shades of mischief dance in her tone as she marks Elijah’s, the eccentric owner of Marigold Meadows flower shop across the street, special order of fifty maple bacon BLTs as completed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Only that you mention Bucky at least seven times a day.”

“Seven’s oddly specific,” you note and swiftly, “also I do not,” disagree.

“Bucky smelled great today,” Vivienne mocks your voice, the grin you’ve come to love—and hate—remaining on her features. “Should I add apple to the cinnamon rolls? I wonder if Bucky would enjoy apple cinnamon rolls with brown butter and maple icing unless he’s a creature of habit. Maybe I should suggest a sprinkle of nutmeg in his coffee to test the waters first—“

“Vivienne,” you groan, yet she persists.

“What’s the worst that could happen? Bucky could say no. Bucky could also choose The Sugared Whisk. Bucky wouldn’t. I adore their croissants, but the coffee is terribly weak, and even their tea selection is mediocre. Indigo should include spiced teas. And sure, Luke's doesn't offer spiced teas, but Luke’s sells great coffee and danishes, except the danishes are only available on Wednesdays.” She recites a recent monologue of yours, and if you weren’t mortified, you’d actually be quite surprised at Vivienne’s ability to remember conversations as if they happened minutes ago.

The doorbell chimes before she has the chance to finish, and you’re highly unsure of whether it’s a saved by the bell kind of situation or if you’d rather the floor magically swallow you whole.

“Good morning.” James smiles, and it’s then that you decide you’d rather the floor split open because you’re awfully flustered by his entrance despite secretly anticipating the moment since the sun arose.

“Hiya, Bucky,” she returns the favour, secretly nudging your side. “Have you ever been to the annual Eldermont’s Harvest Festival?”

“Cannot say I have,” he chuckles, breaking eye contact between the two for just a second to glance at her.

Though you’d never admit it aloud, those eyes, baby blue on sunny days and resembling the ocean on the ones of rain, cross your mind more than a pair of eyes should. This infatuation borders on obsessive, you often contemplate. James Buchanan Barnes is an Avenger for heaven’s sake, and you’re almost sure a man of his maturity and composure wouldn’t agree to a date with a baker, a clutz one at that. It’s not that you’d want to, nevertheless. The two of you have a great thing together — you serve coffee, he survives on coffee, and if time allows, the lighthearted conversations you have bring colours to otherwise monotone days.

“The decorations, the food, the people are phenomenal.” You might have to assign the redhead to kneading duty if she’s heading to that territory. “This beauty right here could take you on a real good tour. Eldermont is gorgeous this time of year.” Enjoy kneading bread, Vivi.

“Is it?” James grins, his stare flicking between you and Vivienne.

“Drop dead,” she reiterates, “much like the women.”

“Vivienne,” you suddenly cut in, “the coffee station is out of paper cups. Could you bring some from the back?”

She gives you another grin, less mischievous and more understanding, nodding at Bucky before she disappears into the kitchen. The heavy wooden doors create a boisterous sound once they close, and you couldn’t be happier for a distraction because you cannot look at the brunette just yet. The bakery is sweltering, and your hands are sweaty, and, if it wasn’t evident you’ve been nurturing a crush on James, Vivienne practically plastered a HEAD BAKER IN LOVE WITH SERGEANT BARNES sign out front.

“The station’s out of cups?”

“Yes!” You glimpse behind the shoulder, deciding to keep the lie alive. “Spice & Honey gets busy during the afternoons, and we run out quickly.” The words leave your mouth rushed and a bit muttered, but the effort is there. “Black coffee and a cinnamon bun?”

“It’s a habit,” his smile is as charming as always. James hesitates for a beat, observing you locate the plastic to-go containers. “The festival Vivienne touched on, have you ever been?”

The atmosphere stills for an awkward second as you gawk at him. “Oh, sure,” you answer at last, praying her babbling wasn’t too obvious because you couldn’t fathom Bucky choosing The Sugared Whisk. “Every year since I was four. The festival’s great. Brad brews the best mead, and Johnny, the mayor, is comically strict about the decorations, so it’s all pumpkins, and string lights, and festive garlands,” you mumble, scrambling for the pan and cream cheese frosting. “I’ve even heard whispers of fireworks this year. It’s next Saturday if you want to drop by. Cassie bakes the best apple pies.”

“Better than yours?”

“I don’t serve apple pies,” averting your eyes to study the grinder seems like the best decision to avoid his piercing gaze.

“I’m sure they’d be the best if you did.” Bucky beams, leaning against the counter as he observes you make coffee.

“Thank you,” the expression of gratitude melts into somewhat of a question despite your best attempts at keeping your voice level, “but the pies I bake often turn out horribly wrong. The apples were overcooked, and the dough raw last time I tried.”

“How undercooked?”

“The trash can enjoyed most of it.”

James laughs at that, the sound of it hearty and endearing. “I’m sure it found the pie delicious.” If he’s flirting with you, you can’t tell, and you don’t exactly want to, for expectations are the fool’s hope. “If you’re not terribly busy during the festival,” he speaks after a protracted moment of doubt, “I’d love to take you up on that tour Vivienne mentioned.”

“Tour?” The man in front of you must almost all but hear your heart pounding rapidly inside your chest.

“The tour of mead, pies, and decorations.”

“Oh?” You tinker with a couple napkins, peering at him. “I’m not sure I could give you a real good tour, I’m barely a guide, believe me. I got lost in that new Target on Cedar Lane, and I cannot understand maps, and—“

“I’m asking you out on a date.” Bucky chuckles at your flustered visage, baby blues never once breaking the eye contact.

“Shit,” the curse word leaves your mouth before you can stop it, and you silently reprimand yourself for the rash impulse of colourful words. “Alright.”

The sergeant titters at your sudden reaction, a shy smile dancing on his lips. “We don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable. I just thought we might have something between us, chemistry of sorts, and that it might’ve been fun,” he briefly pauses, eyes wild and roaming around your face. “It’s just that Vivienne mentioned Eldermont being gorgeous in the fall, and it got me thinking that I’ve never truly experienced it, because the only thing I visit in this town is your bakery, not that it’s the only place worth visiting—“

“Bucky—“

“There are many stores I should probably check out, and Samuel’s birthday is in a couple of days, which is convenient. I wouldn’t describe Sam and I as the best of pals, but Steve likes him, so I should probably get him a gift.”

“Who’s Samuel?” You ask puzzled, but the flustered soldier standing before you continues to ramble.

“Something small to indicate I remembered but not necessarily care. Something that screams I’m not a total jerk, but you are for reminding the whole compound that your birthday’s on the twenty third. A wooden statue of a bird. Sam likes birds, particularly Redwing, though Redwing’s not technically a bird. A wooden bird statue would certainly insult him, so it’s settled — the plan is to visit Artists & Wood on Land.”

“The shop’s name is Woodland Artistry,” you correct with a gentle smile.

“Right!” James clicks his tongue, studying your softly amused features. “We should probably forget this conversation happened. It was a stupid idea too—“

“Yes,” you interject. “I mean no.” Surely, this scenario is a strange dream that wicked mind of yours created to punish you for the sins you assumably committed in every single one of your previous lives. It’s the only possible explanation for the sergeant’s flustered behaviour. “I would absolutely love to go on a date,” you say and pinch the flesh of your thigh for reassurance, but the scene remains as it was, “with you.”

Gently placing a twenty on the counter, James gleams at you. “I’ve never actually given you my number, have I?”

"No," you shake your head to indicate disagreement, pinching the flesh of your thighs once more. “Only the pleasure of our little chats,” the response makes you wince. The pleasure of our little chats? Something’s definitely wrong with me.

Chuckling, James grasps one of the pens you keep by the cash register and scribbles down a series of numbers on his receipt. "If I don't reply, Steve must be holding me hostage.”

"Duly noted," you grin, folding the piece of paper to tuck it into the back pocket of your denim shorts.

He stands there for a second as if absorbing the situation. “Good. It’s a date, then.” he smiles in the end, taking the coffee and the plastic box, and peeks at you behind his shoulder. “And keep the change, please. These treats of yours are more than worth it.”

A timid smile spreads across your lips at the compliment before you sink your teeth into the soft of your bottom lip, observing the soldier scramble out of the bakery, the phone in his flannel jacket ringing for attention.

“Next time,” the redhead appears beside you once James disappears out of sight with a final wave goodbye, “you should give the man coffee and buns on the house," Vivienne nudges you, "both of them."

A surge of warmth rushes to your cheeks at her innuendo. “It’s great you suddenly possessed the ability to teleport and all, but the dough back there won’t knead itself.”

“No,” she gasps, and you only laugh at her realisation, turning to help the next customer.

It’s a date.

The evening of Eldermont’s harvest festival is pleasant, neither too blazing nor cold, but despite the temperature and the appropriate sundress you’ve chosen for it, you’re on the verge of fainting. I cannot faint on our first date, you think and decide it’s the man next to you’s fault, really. The smell of his cologne is too addicting, the hints of pine and cinnamon in his aftershave too intoxicating. James is a gentleman, which you expected and appreciate, but it’s overwhelming, the way he holds your hand to lead you through crowds and attentively listens to your overdrawn stories about the origins of pumpkin carving. Heavens help me.

“Have you checked out the corn maze yet?” Brad asks cheerfully. He’s surrounded by large beverage urns and stacks of disposable drinkware. “Mary mentioned Elijah’s still in there,” he chuckles, pouring two paper cups full of steaming apple cider mead. “The fool must’ve gotten lost or something.”

“Must’ve,” you glance at him, the corner of your mouth quirking up into a half smile. “Happens every year.”

“The two of you should go,” Brad speaks once again before smiling at Bucky. “It’s a great first date activity.”

James chuckles, and you wonder if he regrets asking you on a date. The small town you call home is ludicrously close, and if Vivienne didn’t spill the beans to Mary as she promised, Mary must’ve spread the ‘rumours’ around herself. The town’s beloved bookshop owner is an incredible woman, but she loves to gossip, and you should’ve expected the second person after Vivienne to consistently insert themselves into your dating life to jump to conclusions. Though the situation isn’t precisely comfortable for you, it must be worse for James. Whilst he has never outright mentioned, the soldier has important reasons to stay under the radar. Bucky has witnessed a lot, horrors you’ve even heard about on the TV, and currently, every resident of Eldermont is aware that James Buchanan Barnes is on a date. With a local baker, nonetheless. Participating in acorn tossing and harvest bingo and conversing with Brad Monty about all kinds of sneaky activities couples get up to in the corn maze. You're certain that James is bound to vanish without a trace due to the town's antics if your diffident and often rather awkward behavior hasn't already scared him away. The anxious parts of your brain have even compiled a mental list of today's disasters:

Johnny wiped his sweaty hands on Bucky’s jacket, realising the blunder only to mumble “I love this jacket, Sergeant Barnes”, and pretending he wanted to initiate a hug before he disappeared.

Cassie offered you a sample of pecan pie, which you eagerly tasted due to Bucky’s “If I had to choose the second best pie after apple, it would be pecan” comment, and completely choked on.

Vivienne located you in the farmer’s market to say “hello”, and persuaded James to purchase a pair of beaded bracelets, the two of you had ridiculed moments earlier, for “every first date needs a souvenir to remember it by”.

James guided you to Mary’s bookstore because you conferred a series of rare hardbacks Mary hides in the back for special customers, and the older woman steered you towards a selection of intimacy guides.

Indigo, The Sugared Whisk owner, pleaded with James for Captain America’s number in the middle of a busy intersection and discussed his “timeless looks” for the next couple of minutes until a car almost struck the three of you.

Elijah phoned you in distress, panicking about “having to live out his best years in a smelly corn maze”, which disturbed the sergeant and resulted in an “Elijah will find the exit eventually” monologue on your side.

You accepted to take a photo of a tourist couple, accidentally dropping the wife’s phone and shattering the screen because James stood so close, your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“Thanks, Brad,” you fumble with your wallet, hastily placing a ten on the stand. “See you around.”

“Doll,” Bucky doesn’t move once you attempt to remove him from the nightmare that is the situation the two of you found yourselves in. It gives you a second to evaluate his expression, and much to your surprise, his features are as soft as ever. James is blushing, too. “I wanted to pay for that.”

“You paid for the apple pie,” the words slip past your lips mumbled because the only thing you can truly concentrate on is the fact James is blushing. Blushing as a result of Brad’s stories about couples so in love they simply cannot be bothered to locate the labyrinth’s exit before proving their emotions to the world. Couples that could be the two of you. Possibly. A sane person shouldn’t rush to assumptions unless they earned the sweetest nickname from a dream of a man. You’ve never paid much thought to whether you would enjoy being called a ��doll’—you do, but you would probably adore every label he’d choose. The notion steers your head toward unexpected and dirty waters, and you couldn’t be happier for Brad’s decision to chime in.

“Cassie outdid herself this year,” he nods. “I’m most definitely going to dream about that blackberry pie tonight.”

“Yes,” James agrees never once breaking the eye contact with you. “The pies were delicious, and it was my pleasure to pay. It was me who demanded a tour.”

“You may pay for the maze then,” you smile at him, “but leave the ten — I’m not that great of a tour guide, and I’m afraid of the dark.”

“Dates should be fun,” James suddenly speaks. “We could’ve skipped the labyrinth.”

The corn maze is high and intimidating, but Bucky’s presence and the soft glow of an orange sunset manage to silence your fears a bit. The passages are almost entirely empty except for the two of you, and each corner you take makes your heart jump at the possibility of encountering spooky surprises.

“This is fun,” you reassure, taking a sip of mead. James shoots you a look you cannot truly decipher, but you decide the meaning is somewhere between worried and teasing. “It is,” you hesitate for a beat. “I just keep remembering the haunted corn maze in Greenwood. They have scare actors there, who jump out of the bushes when you least expect it and completely startle you. Vivienne took me there last year, and I cannot shake the memories.”

The expression on his face melts into sympathy. “If it’s any consolation, I would protect you against all the zombies and monsters this maze might throw at us,” he speaks before, “not that it has any,” adding.

“If theme’s anything to go by, I think we’re OK,” you chuckle at his offer, referring to the cutesy signs and charmingly painted pumpkins scattered throughout the labyrinth, “unless Johnny decided to include a couple gory scenes at the end, though it’d end worse for him than it would for me.”

“Johnny The Mayor?”

“Johnny The Mayor,” you take yet another sip, nodding. The beverage is barely warm twenty minutes into the attraction, providing only the comfort of a soft alcohol tipsiness.

“He’s a charming little fella,” Bucky notes, and you don’t have it in yourself to deny the statement. “I’ve never experienced someone initiating a hug by wiping their hands on my jacket.”

“Sorry,” you offer sheepishly because what could you say after an occurrence so bizarre. Everyone in this town is strange? James must’ve caught on to the fact by this time.

“It’s alright, and besides, I now have a humorous story to recount at parties, which is a first,” he gleams at you. “It may come as a surprise, but I’m not usually the life of it.”

“Can I ask you a question?” You shift to gaze at him before emptying the cup of mead to steady your nerves.

“I don’t promise to answer,” James grins, fiddling with the beaded bracelet, “but yes.”

“Who’s Samuel?”

“That’s your question?” He laughs as his flesh arm slithers to rest upon your waist. At least you think it’s his flesh arm. The man wears gloves whether the sun shines or the rain pours. You’ve seen pictures, though, and read stories of The Winter Soldier in possession of a metal arm. Neither raise concern, not for the reason you’re smitten with Bucky. Rather, because James was manipulated and stripped of free will, and if heaven would descend, perhaps because that metal arm is sinfully attractive. It’s a thought forbidden to be mentioned aloud, for the gloves are a large indicator he’d enjoy staying silent about the matter. “Who’s Samuel?”

“Yes,” you sputter. The butterflies his simple action caused you don’t mention. “I want to hear about this Samuel. I’ve been informed he likes birds, especially Redwing, who’s not technically a bird?”

“The Samuel I was babbling about is Sam Wilson. The Falcon, if you’re a fan of CNN,” James teases, steering you into the left pathway of the maze. Despite your instinct to choose right, you stay silent. “Redwing’s a drone of sorts Sam uses on missions, and, this is a direct quote, for surveillance. I despise the thing.”

“If we get lost, forget the second date,” you playfully threaten. Though the coziness of his body pressed to yours is intoxicating, it does nothing to ease the goosebumps painted on your skin, and as the sky bleeds in shades of crimson and purple, the sun melts into the horizon, teasing you for forgetting a sweater. “I would’ve categorised holding a grudge against an object as below you.”

“If the shoe fits,” he chortles, leading you down a long passage before abruptly stopping. Hesitating for a beat, he drapes the flannel jacket you’ve come to love on the man around your body. The garment is red and weighty, and it smells of James. The gesture makes your heart swell with admiration, but you ignore it. Dates should be approached with a blank slate because expectations are easily shattered. “I shouldn’t deliver Steve that woman’s phone number, should I?” Bucky’s arm finds your waist again.

Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, “on the bright side, Indigo is quite a pleasant woman,” you verbalise the thought. James observes your expression, baby blues studying the same features he cannot resist thinking about at nightfall. Blood rushes to his cheeks at the notice of your fingers on his lower back, the heat of your skin piercing through his charcoal henley. “She’d certainly treat Captain America right. On the downside,” you pause, “Indigo is the exact opposite of Steve as the media portrays him. Come to think about it, both of us are.”

“How so?”

“The media portrays supersoldiers as courageous, but Indigo and I once had to call Luke to get rid of a teeny spider. Steve’s active in politics, whilst we often skip the town’s meetings—“

“Eldermont holds town meetings?” James chuckles, subconsciously drawing you in closer.

“Once a month, always on the first Tuesday,” you gleam at him before drawing in a deep breath to calm your violently beating heart. “Last time, we discussed the very pressing issue of Halloween decorations. Johnny insists every business on the main street must participate in the festivities. Indigo and I escaped out the back before the mayor could finish his speech. At the least, Steve would’ve stayed in that meeting, and at the most, he would’ve managed it.”

“People do say opposites attract.”

“Heard that before,” you agree. The loose strand of Bucky’s auburn hair tempts you to tuck it behind his ear, but you halt the impulse of committing such a ludicrous decision. “It must be true because you drink coffee black, and I prefer lattes. You have cinnamon buns for breakfast, and I, if time would be gracious enough for breakfast, would choose danishes.”

“The jury’s decided, then.” The corners of his mouth quirk up into a lazy and wickedly attractive smile, and, you almost wonder if Bucky’s aware of the effect he has on your body because if he isn't, your buckling knees must’ve given it away. “Opposites do attract.” His wildly confident attitude is a new discovery, but you decide you like it. “It would be a shame to ignore matters of the universe.” Confidence is a good shade on him.

“Is this your way of asking me on a second date?” You tease the man, memorising the pink hues veiling his cheekbones.

James guides you around the corner, observing the corn maze’s exit, and halts his movements. “Only if the lady agrees,” he shifts to stand before you, catching your forearms in his gloved hands, “which I’m sincerely hoping she does.”

Resting your arms on his shoulders, you gift yourself a quick moment to explore his features — the stubble gently lining his sharp jaw, the little scar above his eyebrow, and the red lips you, despite hiding it, wanted to kiss since he first visited Spice & Honey. “The lady would love to go on a second date.”

“Good,” an emotion you cannot comprehend waltzes in his eyes, but, for the sake of your composure, you abstain from thinking it could possibly be lust. “The gentleman is looking forward to it.” There's an argument happening inside him, you can sense it by the way he keeps drawing you closer until the space between your bodies is virtually erased, but retains his posture straight and almost rigid. The weight of should he or should he not lingers in the air around you before James catches your stare and smiles timidly, shattering the flicker of hope you have for him to kiss you. You don’t exactly yearn for him to kiss you. In theory, kiss-less first dates are a great idea, paving the way for deeper conversations and a closer bond. They build anticipation. Anticipation is good, you ponder for a second, but all you can truly focus on is whether James would taste like apple cider mead or the sugary desserts you two savoured earlier. “The night is still young," he speaks, the tone of his voice light and reticent. "It would be a shame to end the date this early."

“Luke’s open if you want to grab a quick dinner,” you say with a grin, stepping away from him. “Though we should probably exit the maze first.”

“Yes,” Bucky laughs and extends his arm towards the light at the end of the passage. “Lead the way, pretty lady.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x baker reader #bucky x baker!reader #insomniumstella #bucky x reader spice & honey

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amirasainz · 1 year ago

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Can you please do amira gets her wisdom teeth removal and is so loopy and adorable, the drivers and wags heart melt?

Sure, I hope you enjoy reading this. If you have a request, let me know.

-XoXo

No Part 2!!!

Her own kind of wisdom

Amira Sainz, Carlos Sainz Jr's beloved little sister, recently had her wisdom teeth removed. It certainly was no easy thing for her to do because, like most people, she was afraid of the dentist.

"No, please don't make me do this, Carlitos. I promise, I'll stop eating M&M's," she looked at him with big, tearful eyes.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but this is for your own good," Carlos promised her.

She gave a tearful cry and turned to Rebecca, who was watching the whole interaction. She only shook her head sadly and petted Amira's hair lovingly.

After a dramatic goodbye with lots of tears and hugs, Amira was put under anesthesia, so she wouldn't feel anything. Thankfully, she easily fell asleep.

Meanwhile, Carlos, ever the protective big brother, was pacing up and down in the waiting room. An elderly lady was also sitting there, silently judging Carlos.

After two horrible hours, the small operation was finally done, and Carlos and Rebecca were able to see her.

As she woke up from the anesthesia, she was adorably loopy, her normally sharp wit dulled into a delightful haze.

"Carlos, Carlos, Carlos. Imagine if you get lost in the parking garage. Then you are truly Car...los. Get it?" she asked, her voice muffled because of the cotton balls inside her mouth. Carlos's only reaction was to stare with an empty expression into space.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Carlos had made sure to let a few of his closest friends from the F1 grid know about the procedure. Before long, a small group had gathered at the Sainz family home, including Lando, Charles, Fernando, and a few of the WAGs like Carmen and Lily. (Their boyfriends weren't allowed to come, by order of the best WAGs.)

The moment the trio returned home, everyone cooed over the paddock princess.

"Oh, my beautiful baby. Are you feeling better?" and "Look at you, my love," were the first things Carmen and Lily said to her before leading her to the couch. Fernando and Charles had already prepared a princess-worthy comfy space there with lots of blankets and pillows.

Amira, her cheeks puffed up and her words slurred, tried to engage everyone in conversation, her usual shyness replaced with an endearing boldness. She babbled about how the clouds must be made of marshmallows and insisted that Lando’s hair was a shade of blue. The room was filled with laughter, everyone’s hearts melting at her innocence and charm.

Carlos, though usually the fiercely protective older brother, couldn’t help but laugh along, his protective nature temporarily overshadowed by the sheer cuteness of the situation. He made sure to capture a few moments on his phone, knowing these would be memories to cherish.

As Amira drifted in and out of consciousness, mumbling sweet nonsense, the drivers and WAGs took turns sitting by her side, holding her hand, and ensuring she was comfortable. Their usual competitive edges softened.

After Amira fell asleep for real this time, cuddled up between Lily and Fernando, Charles couldn't help but say:" She really is a brave girl. If I were her, I would have already fainted seven times" making the group laugh.

"So, Lord Perceval. Where is your WAG Joris?" asked Carlos, which gained him a groan from Charles.

#formula 1 #baby!sainz!sister #charles leclerc x reader #formula 1 x reader #lando norris x reader #carlos sainz x sister!reader #fernando alonso x reader #amira sainz #fluff #wisdom teeth #carmen mundt x reader #lily minu he x reader #joris trouche is the best WAG

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mastermindmiko · 1 year ago

Text

Gatherings at the Burrow (Ron edition)

Pairing: Ron Weasley + Reader Warnings: none, but lmk Word count: 4627 words Summary: Gatherings at the Burrow, through a series of events always lead to a happy couple forming, this time it's Ron's turn.

I'm going to make this a little series with each Weasley having a chapter with sort of the same overarching theme, I'm not going to set any deadlines, cause we all know I'm not good with that, but here is the first one!

Gatherings at the Burrow have never been anything short of brilliant, I've only ever gone there for three years, but each year seems to be better than the one before it.

"You really should visit more often, dear." Molly says, whilst giving me a hug as soon as I enter. I raise my voice, sure to make sure that a certain someone that is also present hears, "I would, If my stupid boss gave me some time off every once in a while!"

"Go complain about it to HR!" Percy yelled back from the kitchen. Molly leads me to the living room where the whole room is filled with excitement. I wave to everyone and then take a seat next to my closest friend in the room Ronald Weasley.

"I haven't heard from you in a while, I almost thought about visiting Percy at work just to see you." Ron says, pressing a kiss to my cheek as greeting. I smile at the gesture and replied, "Since when was two days ever considered a while."

"It is when you're my friend." Ron says with a cheeky grin. Harry waves from behind Ron, and I say, "It must be terrible working with him everyday."

"It is..." Harry agrees, "Especially when he only talks about you or the Chudly Canons."

I flush a deep shade of red and pretend to not notice the way Ron shoves Harry. The twins babble about their new inventions and how great the shop's been ever since they finally rebuilt after the war. The older Weasleys (Bill and Charlie, along with their father) bicker about how Bill can't give his child candy after seven at night. Ginny telling Fleur how excited she is about her first Quidditch game as the Chaser of the Holyhead Harpies next week.

Even with all the clatter and noise, it's still very comforting, even more so when Ron slips his arm around my back. Another person enters the room and Ginny runs excitedly to the door. I hear a load of giggles and at their recognizable sound, Ron removes his arm from around me.

Ron and Hermione got together as soon as the war ended. I only got to know them when I started working for Percy, especially since the twins wanted to know who 'Percy's new victim' was. They seemed so happy together but before their one year mark, they broke it off. It's been two years since, I can't help but wonder if they sometimes think it's a mistake.

I've never been one to meddle, but as Hermione sat across from us, next to Ginny and Fleur, I couldn't help but notice the way Ron was avoiding her eyes. He'd only gave her a half-assed wave when she entered the room.

With my heart (for some absurd reason) heavier, I sighed and went to the kitchen to get myself a drink. I stand up and Ron's hand wraps around my wrist. He asks, "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to go get a drink, want one?" I asked, and he shakes his more than half full cup at me with an appreciative smile. I turn to everybody in the room and shout, "Anyone want a drink?"

The room quiets before everyone starts telling me their drink orders, hectic as always, just the way I love it. I head to the kitchen and Percy's got his papers set out in front of him, working. I walk in, and say, "You can't be married to your work forever, you know."

"I'm aware..." He trails off, as he continues to read some paper, underlining certain aspects. He continues, "But until that day..."

He continues to work, not even sparing me a glance as I start filling up eight glasses with drinks, trying not to get in Molly's way while she's cooking. I say, "You can afford to not work, excessively for one day, you know."

"I'm aware of that too." Percy says, and I slide his drink across the counter to him. The noise alerts him and he reaches out to grab it before it slides off the edge. He opens his mouth, but I interrupt him, "You can't possibly be doubting my ability to make a drink for you after three years."

He presses his lips into a firm line, and nods his head in thanks. I've learned to pick up on his mannerisms over the years. I try one last time, "Percy, come on, everyone's waiting for you, and I really don't want to spend the night, thinking that you're here all alone, working."

"I'm hardly alone, I've got mom."

"Who's about to finish cooking and will light up your papers, if you don't spend time with your family." Molly threatens, and Percy's wise enough to start packing up his papers. I finish up the last of the drinks, and place a spell to send each of them to their respective owners.

"Are you sure you don't need any help, Molly?" I offer for the third time that night, careful not to call her Mrs. Weasley as to avoid getting scolded. "No, no, no, you go rest my dear, and you enjoy your time, I simply do not know how we spent all those years without you."

"Your youngest son is to blame for that." I say, blushing at Molly's kindness. Molly fumes, "I honestly do not know how you were with that boy in school not only for seven but for eight years, and he's never even talked to you, I know he regrets it, all those years he's wasted not being in love with you."

"He's not in love with me-"

"He is." Percy interrupts me, and I say, "He's still hung up on Hermione, that's for sure. Besides, he's expressed his feelings about dating his friend more than once with me..."

After Hermione and Ron broke up, it sort of shattered the dynamic for a bit. All the awkwardness hung in the air, and even if it's mostly faded by now, Ron always says how he'd never date a friend, and how he'd rather face Voldemort again than go through all of that again. Sometimes when he talks about it, I feel as though he is looking right through me, warning me even.

"Ron's always been a bit daft when it comes to matters like these, give him a bit." Percy says, and I roll my eyes, I'd be foolish to even allow myself a sliver of hope, especially since I couldn't care less about who Ron dates.

I head back into the living room and once again the only spot left is beside Ron, I sit back down next to him on the sofa. Percy enters the room and the twins shuffle aside to provide a place for him, and Fred sends me a wink while George wiggles his eyebrows between me and Ron.

I roll my eyes at their antics, and Ron says, "There's something I haven't told you."

I shift all of my focus to him, and gesture for him to keep talking. Ron explains, "You know how strict the ministry is about breaking Auror Protocol, even more so when you've just finished training- like me, and long story short, I broke protocol, and now I'm suspended for two weeks."

"Ron! Have you told your family about this?"

"No."

"What did you even break protocol for?" I ask, furiously. It's already nerve wrecking enough that he's an Auror, dealing with all these dark wizards constantly, and not just him, but Harry too. Ron says, "Harry was in trouble."

I sigh, knowing that there is no way I could scold him for that. I place my palm on his forearm and say, "You've still got to be careful, Ron."

"I know, I can't have anymore dark wizards harming anyone I care about." He says, and he looks at me, that look, that stupid stupid look with his stupid blue eyes. I feel the butterflies flutter in my stomach. I urge them to stop, these are dangerous feelings and I will not have them.

"You really should tell them, sooner rather than later too." I advise, and he nods. He continues to look intently into my eyes, if this wasn't Ron, I'd be sure that he was going to kiss me, but Ron wouldn't dare. He'd sooner kiss an enemy rather than a friend.

He clears his throat, looking away, and pulling away from my touch. The butterflies die, and they are replaced with a painful feeling in my chest. He leans down, elbows on his thighs. He says, "I hear you're moving."

"Yeah."

"With um Thomas?" Ron says, and it's at moments like these where I think that there's something more. I reply, "Dean? No, it's not like that with him."

"You aren't dating?" Ron says, looking at me, eyes wide. I swallow, "No, I would've told you if I was dating someone, and it's been like that with Dean anyways."

He nods, and gulps down a few sips of his drink. He straightens his back and asks, "When are you moving?"

"I'll be officially moved in by Saturday."

*** ⋆｡°✩***

"Thanks for helping me Dean."

He sets down the last of the boxes, and he wipes away a bit of sweat from his forehead. He smiles, tired but genuine. I add, "I really appreciate it."

"You know I love spending time with you, but why couldn't Weasley help you out?" Dean asks, and I turn around and start pulling out a few items from the box entitled kitchen. I act, "Percy? He's working yet again, could not get him away even with a-"

"No, Ron. I'm sure he'd be happy to help, after all he is in love with you." Dean explains, looking at me intently, I turn around to face him and sigh. I haven't told Dean about the many conversation I've had with Ron regarding this topic. Last he talked about it was during Bill's birthday party, less than a month ago.

"Congratulations Bill! You're not only old, but you're very old!" George lifts a glass and laughs. The laughter echoes around the table, as Bill shoves his younger brother. Bill replies, "In a blink of an eye, you'll be even older than I am."

George waves his hand dismissively, and sits down next to his future wife Angelina. He wraps an arm around her and gives her a kiss on her temple. I could only hope to be that in love with someone someday. I can imagine how wonderful it would be, the kisses, the stolen glances, the words of appreciation-

"It's manic if you ask me." Ron whispers in my ear over the loud music in the club. I turn to look at him faces so close that I can could the freckles on his cheeks. I ask, "What is?"

"Dating your friend." Ron says, and I sigh, getting ready for another monologue. He starts, "If they break up, not only would if effect them, but also the whole group, I mean, he'd lose her and maybe even Lee, not to mention, it would put Fred in an awkward spot, who to chose, and-"

"I think it's wonderful." I stop him, and he raises an inquisitive eyebrow, I start my own rant, "You wouldn't have to go through any of that first date awkwardness of not knowing what to say or what to do. You wouldn't worry about what to get them for gifts because you've already gotten them gifts your whole life. You'd feel comfortable around them and you'd feel like they're your best friend too. My favorite part of it is that when you get older, and have kids, and grandkids and all that, you'd have so many more stories to tell them about how much that person means to you even before you ever fell in love with them."

I take in a breath, looking at George and Angelina, Bill and Fleur, Luna and Ginny, hoping that someday I might have what they have. I turn to look at Ron whose been silent since I've finished talking, and I could feel the gears spinning in his head, and I could see his cheeks turn red. He says, "You didn't think of one last thing."

"What is it?"

"That if you lost them, it would hurt a million times more."

Dean says, trying to convince me of my hidden love for Ron, "Don't give me any of your bullshit, I'm the one person who knows you better than he does..."

He takes a step towards me and places a hand on my cheek. He bends down and presses a small peck to my lips. He whispers, cheeky, "And that's only because I've been inside you."

I gasp, and hit him arm playfully, he laughs, and I turn red. "And you love him too, and don't even try to object."

"We've been at this for seven years now, and the only times when you stop kissing me or more is when you're in love with someone. The first time, it was with Neville and now, it's with Ron. You can deny it all you want like I know you've been, but you're going to find out soon enough."

"I really hate you sometimes, you know." I huff, pursing my lips. He smiles, "You know you love me."

I break into a smile, and wrap my arms around him in a friendly hug. He reciprocates, and then presses a sweet kiss to my cheek. He sighs, "I've got to go meet up with Seamus."

"Okay, thanks again for helping." I say, and the doorbell interrupts us. I wasn't expecting anyone. I walk over to the door, and open it. Before the war ended, I would've never done such a thing, but now I can open the door to my home without worrying about being attacked.

Ron stands with his face flushed a bouquet of my favorite flowers. Dean picks up his bag from the ground, and that's when Ron notices him, his expression hardens immediately. Dean says goodbye to both Ron and I then walks out the door.

I don't mind Dean's flirts from behind Ron, as I roll my eyes, and pull Ron inside. I close the door behind us, pressing my back against it. A smile on my mouth, as I wait for Ron to say something. Ron asks, "Is that Thomas?"

"Yes, you've shared a dorm with him for seven years, I figured you'd know what he looks like by now." I joke, but my grin drops when Ron scoffs and lowers the bouquet. Ron asks, "What was he doing here?"

"He helped me move in." I explained. He frowns and says, "Magic couldn't help you with all those boxes?"

"Not in a muggle neighborhood, no." I say, and Ron folds his arms. The bouquet bunches up at the ends from the action. I tentatively take a step towards him and I question, "What are the flowers for?"

"And you didn't think to ask me for help?" Ron snaps, and his tone surprises me. I shrug my shoulders and say, "I thought you'd be busy, and I wouldn't want to bother you."

"But you'd bother Dean all you'd like."

"Why are you saying his name like that? You guys are friends." I say, appalled by his tone, spitting venom. Ron sets the flowers down on one of the random boxes that surround us, and spits, "If you didn't want to tell me about your personal life that's fine, but you didn't have to lie to me."

"I didn't lie to you about anything." I defend, getting heated up myself at all his accusations. He shouts, "And Thomas only came here to help you move."

"Yes!"

"I'm not an idiot, I know what's going on between the two of you." Ron says, and I sigh, exasperated, "Nothing is happening!

"Please! It's been happening since third year." Ron says, and I huff, "Yes, but it's stopped, for a while actually. And you don't get to do this! I don't owe you any information about my life that I don't want to share."

"My mistake, I actually thought we were friends."

"We are friends, but you don't get to accuse me of things that only you see, and even if I was dating him, why would it be any of your business?" I shout, and he opens his mouth to retort, but then shuts his mouth and the door of my new apartment right behind him.

*** ⋆｡°✩***

I still hadn't gotten over what happened with Ron by the time that I go into work on Monday. The first thing I notice is Mr. Weasley not standing beside me in the elevator. The second thing I notice is the lack of red hair on my way to my office. The third and most concerning thing is that Percy Weasley, the Percy Weasley has submitted an absence notice.

If Percy is not working that must mean that something awful has happened. I send a Patronus to Percy and hope that he sends a reply quickly, my worry has me waiting twenty minutes before I rush to my supervisor's office to ask her what happened.

I knock on her door, and wait for her sharp voice yell a sound of acknowledgement. I walk into her office and stand in the middle of the room with my heels digging into her thick fur carpet. I say, "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering if you knew why Per- Mr. Weasley isn't here today."

"It was a surprise to me too, if I'm being honest." Her voice is harsh as she scribbles something down with her quill. She continues in a slow voice that has be just about ready to start yelling for her to get out with it, "Something about a family member in the hospital."

My heart lodges into my throat, and I think of all the horrible horrible possibilities as I excuse myself and nearly run to the apparition grounds to make it to St. Mungo's.

Molly's been getting really tired with her old age what if something happened to her, and Mr. Weasley too especially after Nagini attacked him a few years ago. What about Fred and George? They couldn't survive without each other! What about Bill? He's got a kid now!

Ron...what if something happened to Ron? Despite his stubborn attitude and insane jealousy, I don't know what I'd do without him. I haven't heard from him since the fight either. My fast paced walking turns into a full blown run, and as soon as I make it to the apparition grounds, I recklessly apparate without any regard for my safety.

What would I do if I didn't have to spend a decent amount of time writing him a letter everyday? What would I do if I had to spend a day without his incessant nagging and his irrational logic, and his gentleness and care, and his dumb smile.

St. Mungo's isn't as busy as it usually is. The receptionist tells me the ward that an unspecified Weasley is staying in, and I'm sure that I look insane, running like a mad woman to get to the proper room. I can feel my heart pumping in my ears as I see a sea of red hair. I see them one by one; Molly, Arthur, Percy, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George and-

"Ron!" I say, as I wrap my arms around him in a bone crushing hug. He's takes a step back from the sheer force of my hug, and encases me in his arms. I pull back and the words spill from my mouth, "I came as soon as I heard, I thought something happened to you."

"People should know that not all Weasleys are interchangeable, they should always mention who got hurt, I was so scared that something happened to Percy or Fred or Bill or-"

"It's Ginny who's hurt." Ron explains, and I feel stupid with the way I've been complaining when someone is hurt, and even more so when I feel everyone's teasing eyes on us. I ask, "What happened?"

"She fell off her broom in a match, and she would've been fine if she wasn't hit by a bludger too." He says and I scrunch up my face at the description. I just can't imagine what poor Ginny must be feeling right now. I ask, "What did the healer say?"

"That she's in stable condition, she's not awake at the moment, but none of the broken bones are that serious. She won't be playing for a while, but nothing is permanent, and she'll be okay." Ron says, and I nod my head. My relief along with worry take over my body.

I look into Ron's eyes, and lift my hand up to cup his cheek. I sigh, looking at him. Grateful that nothing's happened to him. The relief is too overwhelming that I believe I can't deny what I'm feeling any longer. He gives me that look, and he pulls me in by my waist.

Ron was right, it would hurt a million times more if I lost him. That's when his touch felt like fire, and I could feel my throat close up. I can't believe I let this happen. I fell for him, for this moron standing in front of me right now. I let out a shaky breath, and pull away from his grasp.

My initial reaction is to run away and never look back, but instead, I go sit next to Percy, who has worry radiating off him. I provide support for the rest of the Weasley family, not sparing Ron one glance, hoping that the words don't tumble from my throat.

*** ⋆｡°✩***

The next Weasley gathering was in celebration of Christmas getting closer and closer as well as Ginny's fast and marvelous recovery. No one, not even the healer's expected her to bounce back that quickly, but Ginny is an amazing witch, it was foolish to not expect it.

I wasn't going though, I'd sent Ginny a gift, and an apology to Molly for not being able to make it. My obstacle at the current moment was trying to get Percy to leave the office to go to said gathering without me. I say, "I can't go, Percy."

"You say that but you still haven't provided a valid excuse." Percy says, and I shrug my shoulders, "I've got work."

"Did you forget that I'm the one who gives you that work? You don't have anything to finish!" Percy says, exasperated, and I sigh, "I just can't Percy."

"But if you-"

"I can't." I stop him sharply, I run a hand through my hair, hopelessly and whisper, "Not while he's there..."

"I'm sure Ron wouldn't mind it, you had a fight, all friends fight. It's normal." Percy reassures me, and I feel my eyes water as I begin to explain, "I fell for him, Percy, and even if he does like me back...You know how he feels about dating his friends, imagine how he would feel about dating me, who is a friend and even considered a member of his family."

"I'm sure everything will be alright." He says, before mumbling something quietly under his breath. He apparates to the Burrow and I organize my office before going back to my apartment for the weekend. I place the pens back into my case. The paper sin the drawers and I lock them up with enchantments and passwords.

I hated not being at the Burrow, not making everyone their drinks, not seeing Ginny after being very worried about her. I couldn't believe that I let my feelings influence my life this much, especially when it came to the Weasleys. They are some of the most important people in my life, and I couldn't-

"Percy told me you'd be here."

I gasp at the voice, and I spin to where it came from. Ron. The silence was thick between us. I cleared my throat, and turned around to continue sorting papers into stacks. I ask, "How's Ginny?"

"Good..." He trails off and the silence spreads over us once more. I ignore it this time and try to focus on getting the organization done as soon as I can to get back home. I'm not sure how long it is before I feel him wrap his arms around my middle and spin me around to face him.

"Mom was disappointed you didn't come." Ron said, and I hoped what he really meant was 'I was disappointed you didn't come.' I don't say a thing, and he pulls me closer to him. The butterflies threaten to swallow me whole. I push his arms away, and I say, "Ron, you should get going."

"Why?"

I try to push passed him but he cages me in between his arms and my desk. I look past him focusing on a picture hung in my office behind him. He adds, "Didn't you think I would notice the way you've been giving everyone the cold shoulder since you saw us at St. Mungo's?"

I stay silent, he was right. I didn't send any letters, and the replies that I've sent were dry to say the least. He says, "I'm sorry, if this is because of the fight, but-"

"It's not because of the fight." I reply, and look at him. I can see the desperation in his eyes, and it gets my heart pumping faster. Ron furrows his eyebrows, and questions, "What is it then?"

My eyes well up, and I look down at the ground. Ron lifts my chin up with his index finger. He says, "You can tell me anything, you know..."

I let out a bittersweet laugh, and sniffle, "Not this, you'll hate me for it."

"I could never hate you." He reassures me, but he doesn't know how little it does. I feel a tear fall, and I cover my face with both my palms. I sob, "I'm so sorry, Ron, I didn't mean to, I promise."

"I'm in love with you." I say, the weight off my shoulders and onto my chest as I await his response, tears falling faster than before. I hear him take in a shaky breath before wrapping his fingers around my wrists. He pulls down my palms away from my face. His movements are slow and they feel like torture, waiting for him to say something or do something.

He gazes at me, and I feel even worse than before, I can't lose him. I can feel another apology about to tumble from lips when he silences me. I'm completely irresponsive as I feel his lips against mine and the feeling of his palms on my cheeks spreading to the rest of my face. I pull away from his lips and ask, "But you said-"

"Everything I've ever said about not wanting to date a friend was a weak and desperate attempt of trying to get you to not fall for Dean." Ron says, and I question, "But when Hermione-"

"The reason why Hermione and I broke up was as I told you, I didn't like her anymore, but the other reason was because my older brother's secretary had it out for me and my heart, and I couldn't spend another moment away from her. I didn't want to rub it in Hermione's face, but I should've handled it better than that."

"You're acting very mature right now." I say, beginning to light up, and Ron chuckles, "Bill had a talk with me after you left St. Mungo's, I've been waiting for the right time to talk to you about it."

"Remind me to thank Bill."

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punk-spic3y · 1 month ago

Text

kitsune of stone

cw/tags: yakuza au, violence, abuse, implied/referenced sexual assault, angst, alternating pov, alcohol, arranged marriage

a/n: i've already posted chapters 1-3 on ao3, so check it out there too!

chapter 2: chamomile & honey

series masterlist

You move through the rest of the week on autopilot. Atsumu spends all of Friday trying to get you to come out of your room, explore the house, meet the guys, see the garden; but you quietly refuse. Surprisingly, he doesn’t push, just knocks on your door at meal times and checks in every couple of hours for the rest of the weekend.

You sulk and you process. Despite their reputation, the Inariazaki members are, so far, leagues ahead of the men you grew up surrounded by. You worry briefly about Hajime, but he’s proven time and time again that he can, without a doubt, take care of himself.

On Tuesday, Atsumu apparently gets tired of you refusing to stray very far from your room. The knock on your door this morning is more aggressive than usual and you pause, cautious. He says your name, not loud but clearly irritated. You set your jaw and slide the door open. His eyes light up and he looks so smug it makes you want to hit him. He leans against the door frame, bracing his arm on the door to loom over you. “I let ya sulk for three days,” he holds up his fingers to emphasize the number, “so now I’m not givin’ ya a choice, princess.” Eyes rove over you but not in a way that makes you uncomfortable, and he points towards your feet, “Put on some comfortable shoes and meet me downstairs in ten.” You’re about to protest when he cuts you off, “Ah-ah! If yer not down there in ten minutes I’m comin’ up ta get ya and I’m gonna be a lot less nice about it.” It sounds like a threat, but he says it with a toothy smile. You groan as you move to shut the door, “Fucking fine.” His victorious laugh filters through from the other side and his footsteps recede down the hall.

Seven and a half minutes later you step off the stairs to see Atsumu leaning comfortably against the sill of one of the open windows. He doesn’t seem to notice you yet, and you allow yourself a moment to just look at him. He’s built, toned muscle shifting beneath the fabric of his t-shirt, arms covered in an abstract of ink and raised scars. Miya Atsumu has a reputation for being bloodthirsty. He’s Osamu’s right hand for a reason, though he may seem over confident, he’s got the ability to back up all that bravado ten fold. Seemingly reckless, but always in control of the situation, his ability to read people is second to none. His appearance fits the description, but you’ve seen enough of him in less than a week to know that, although all of those things may be true, he’s not someone you find yourself afraid of.

Atsumu’s smiles come easy, and every time you’ve seen them inside this house they’ve been incredibly genuine. He’s abrasive and annoying, but he’s never pushed too far, never made you uncomfortable. Now that you really think about it, no one’s made you even remotely uncomfortable since you’ve been here. It’s like your brain is trying to rewire itself, attempting to rectify the stories you’ve heard with the people right in front of you.

With confident steps, you make your way to him. He looks at his watch when he sees you, “Right on time! Wasn’t sure if ya’d show.” You roll your eyes when he winks at you and steps out onto the front porch. He ends up giving you a very thorough walking tour of the compound, complete with names and descriptions of who lives where as you pass half a dozen traditional style houses. In Tokyo, it had been all penthouses and lavish homes separated by bustling city blocks. Something about this arrangement seems more like an actual home, a community. The courtyard just inside the gates is shaded by beautiful gingko trees, a perfectly maintained rock garden sits along the edge of a little babbling stream, and the stones of the drive are laid out meticulously--creating a flowing image of a pair of kitsune.

Everything about the grounds is beautiful; well kept in a way that still lets the natural aspects flourish. It’s early afternoon when you get back to the main house, the sun is bright and the breeze is warm against your cheek. Atsumu turns to you before he steps through the front door, “Give me fifteen more minutes then I’ll make ya lunch, deal?” In lieu of a response you just wave him on.

He starts on the second floor, moving down the hallway he points out his own room, as well as Kita’s, pushing the doors open so you can peek inside each of them. Across the hall from your own room, is the library you caught a glance of on your first day here. It’s a tatami room, warm lights illuminate floor to ceiling bookshelves along the far wall. There’s a large, low couch piled with plush pillows and soft looking blankets--the perfect little reading nook. “Samu’s a big reader,” Atsumu says softly. It’s the first time he’s mentioned his brother to you. “I know it wasn’t yer choice, but ya don’t hafta worry about anythin’ with him, or anybody else here,” his voice is serious, “swear.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that, but when you do find your voice it’s hushed, “Can you blame me if I don’t believe you?” It’s the most vulnerable you’ve been with him. His responding smile is edged with something sad, “Nah, can’t say I can.” It’s all he says before leading you to the door at the end of the hall. “Samu’s room,” his voice is still soft, and this one he doesn’t push open, just turns to guide you back down the stairs.

You’ve seen most of the ground floor already, but Atsumu takes you through all of the rooms anyway. There’s the dining room, a large living room with cozy looking chairs and a flatscreen tv, and a huge kitchen you’ve only caught glimpses of from the dining room. Atsumu puffs up his chest a little when you step into the kitchen, “Samu usually does most ‘a the cookin’.” Your confusion must be apparent on your face because he laughs lightly and adds, “s’kinda a hobby for him. He’s always tryin’ new recipes.”

When you finish with the inside of the house, he leads you out the back door. You’ve only seen the garden from your bedroom window and it’s even more beautiful up close. It’s huge, maintained just as pristinely as the rest of the compound. There are beds of flowers, painting bursts of color against the lush green of the grass and clover, and several trees that create occasional patches of shade--you can smell the wisteria on the light breeze. Tucked a little further in, obscured by the trees like a secret oasis, sits a large patch of tilled soil almost fully surrounded by marigolds. As you get closer you realize it’s a vegetable garden; and Kita is kneeling in the dirt plucking weeds and throwing them into a bucket. He’s wearing comfortable looking linen pants and a well fitting t-shirt that pulls tight around the bulk of his biceps when he pulls his gloves off and stands as he hears you and Atsumu approach. The sun is warm and his skin glistens with a thin layer of sweat, a flush sits high on his cheeks. “So what d’ya think?” he asks you lightly, his expression steady.

“The grounds are beautiful,” you respond, “even though Atsumu is the most annoying tour guide I’ve ever been stuck with.” A small smile graces Kita’s face at Atsumu’s shock that’s abruptly broken by a cackling laugh. Trying and failing to fight your own smile, you turn away from the blonde as he wipes at the corners of his eyes. “I knew ya weren’t just a stick in the mud,” he says smugly. You roll your eyes and move closer to where Kita stands, suddenly very interested in the plants.

“You take care of all of these?” you point towards a tomato plant, covered in little yellow blooms and look up at Kita. He nods, answering you quietly, “My family were rice farmers,” his gives you a kind smile, “so I’ve always liked bein’ able to grow things.” You’re not surprised by him speaking about his family in the past tense, a lot of members don’t have anyone close to them outside of their organization.

You spend the rest of the afternoon sitting under the shade of one of the japanese maple trees at the edge of the koi pond. It’s the most relaxed you’ve felt all week. Book in hand, you let the light breeze rustle the pages, occasionally looking up to watch Kita tend to his plants carefully.

Time passes and you don’t realize that you’re now alone until you hear excited voices out front. Folding the corner of your page, you step back into the house, moving towards the front door. You can see a sleek black sedan parked on the stone driveway, Atsumu is leaning in the passenger window and there are a few other people standing on the porch, including Suna and Aran who seem to be quite close with both of the twins from the way you’ve heard them speak.

Without stepping outside, you try to figure out what’s going on. In what seems like true Atsumu fashion, he leans in the car window and talks excitedly for a few more minutes before backing up and letting someone step out. The man is unfamiliar to you, his dark hair swept messily to the side and he’s shorter than Atsumu, probably just a few inches taller than you. His expression is relaxed, you think he looks like the kind of person that smiles a lot. Your gaze is ripped from him as the driver exits the car.

Osamu looks the same as you remember him, oddly even more familiar now that you’ve spent a decent amount of time with his twin in the past week. He’s dressed sharply, swirls of ink peek out from the collar of his pressed button up and trail out onto his hands from underneath his sleeves that are rolled neatly to sit just below his elbows. You notice the bags under his eyes even from far away, he looks exhausted and his dark hair is messy like he’s been running his hands through it.

The group starts to wander towards the front door, friendly chatter filling the air as they approach the front porch, seemingly in no hurry. You decide that you’re not ready for all of this and quietly make your way back up to your room, sliding the door shut behind you just as voices start to drift inside.

About an hour later, a little before dinner there’s a knock on your door. You’re already talking before you pull it open with an exasperated huff, “Y’know Atsumu, I can walk myself to dinner I’m…” you trail off when you meet cool gray eyes instead of the usual honey brown. Osamu offers you a polite nod as you stand frozen in the doorway. His tone is even and cold just like you remember it, “Didn’t mean to ambush ya. Just wanted ta…” he clears his throat before he continues, “I just wanted ta see how you were settlin’ in.” You blink up at him, “Oh…ah yeah, I’m settling in just fine.” He looks past you into the bedroom where all of your bags still sit in various states of disarray. You haven’t unpacked, still living out of the multitude of bags you’d brought with you. Eyes focusing back on you again, his brows dip slightly and you think you can see tension in his jaw. “I see,” he says. The both of you stand there, the silence between you awkward. He looks like he wants to say something more but just tells you, “Kita’s finishin’ up dinner, I would appreciate if ya would join us.”

Without giving you time to answer he turns and disappears into his room at the end of the hall, the door firmly clicking shut behind him. You were already planning on going to dinner and something about the way he said he’d ‘appreciate it’ has you rolling your eyes. Left in silence, the odd tension still simmers in the air around you. You think there’s a very good chance that Osamu hates you.

Osamu feels like he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. As soon as he’d seen you in that initial meeting over a month ago, he felt like things clicked in place--he wanted you, a stranger, out of that pathetic excuse for a family. It wasn’t really hard, a few cold, calculated insinuations and your father was all but begging him to make you his wife. But now that you’re here, in his home, he feels like he doesn’t know how to proceed. Forcing you into a marriage, ripping you unexpectedly from your home, even if the environment was less than ideal, he feels like a monster.

You’re no stranger to this lifestyle, growing up as the daughter of one of the most powerful families in Tokyo surely exposed you to all the negatives that come with that power early on; yet you still manage to remain bright. In the few times he’s seen you, you’ve never looked defeated or dejected. Not even when you were being stomped down right in front of his fucking eyes.

He’s still not sure how he managed to appear unaffected by that. Atsumu had to physically restrain him from marching right back inside afterwards and putting a bullet in your father’s head. Despite being involved with Inariazaki from a young age, the way some of the other organizations conduct themselves sparks a fury in him that’s almost blinding. The former kumicho had drilled solid morals into every member of the family from the time they joined, and Osamu plans to continue that streak until he physically can’t anymore.

After spending the last couple weeks in Tokyo with the Nohei clan, Osamu is surprised you made it out of there alive. Drawing up contracts and forming solid ties with your father and his advisors was insufferable. The way he spoke about you as if you were nothing more than a bargaining chip made his stomach turn--not to mention the way his second in command talked about you. It was abhorrent. If Akagi hadn’t been there with him, blood would have spilled the second that snake opened his mouth. He doesn’t even care about strengthening the ties between the clans or the marriage. When he saw you in that meeting, something in his gut just told him he needed to get you out. That feeling has never done him wrong, but now that he’s gotten you out, he feels lost. He doesn’t even know you, and you sure as hell don’t know him.

You do come to dinner, not that you have much of a choice. Dressed up, but still comfortable in a pair of striped trousers and a sleeveless, high neck top. Sitting in the same spot you’ve been all week suddenly feels unfamiliar with Osamu sitting beside you at the head of the table. He blends effortlessly with the familial energy that always seems to be present at the table, offering easy smiles and even poking at Atsumu to get a rise out of him. You try not to stare but you can’t help it, he’s a mystery to you. The way his eyes crinkle when he laughs draws you in even as you try to resist. He’s changed out of his stiff suit from earlier, now wearing a comfortable looking pair of dark jeans and a polo that hugs the solid looking muscle of his chest. You get a good look at the tattoos that dance across his sturdy forearms and disappear into the sleeve of his shirt for the first time, you realize that they’re like a matching set to Atsumu’s. All smoky flowing lines that curl into the numerous tails of a pair of kitsune like the ones set into the stone mosaic of the courtyard; where Atsumu’s tattoos are colorful and loud, Osamu’s are more understated, mainly black and gray with small details inked in red that immediately draw you in with their stark contrast.

Atsumu clears his throat lightly, humor dancing in his eyes when you look up at him and you realize you’d been staring at his brother’s borderline obscenely muscled arms for an inappropriate amount of time. Your face feels hot but you keep your expression intentionally blank. His lips are pulled into a smirk and he’s glancing between you and Osamu in a way that makes you nervous. “Was jus’ tellin’ Samu that you’ve been readin’ in the garden all afternoon…” he pauses before he adds, “watchin’ Kita work.” You can’t help the exasperation that twists your features, and Atsumu has to hold back a snicker. Stabbing your chopsticks a little too aggressively into your rice, you reply through gritted teeth, “It was nice outside.” Your next words are even more pointed, “and I like plants.” Risking a glance at Osamu, you find him already looking at you and immediately abort the action.

Your face flames again, and you’re sure he thinks you’re a fucking idiot at this point. Neither of them say anything more to you, but you can feel Osamu studying your face throughout the remainder of the meal. Conversation dies down naturally as the plates around the table are scraped clean. Osamu clears his throat lightly, and you move to stand, assuming he’s about to start talking about his trip and whatever business he was off attending to. His gaze snaps to you and his voice is quiet enough that it’s probably only heard by you and Atsumu when he says, “Stay.” Startled, you still before settling and folding your legs beneath the table again.

A hush falls over the room as he turns to the Kita he says, “Thanks for cookin’ while I was gone.” He continues, “things in Tokyo are goin’ well, all of the contracts that were drawn up have been personally approved by me, so movin’ forward, we’ll have some extra dealings in the Ginza district.” You perk up, the Ginza district is part of Nohei’s territory, so the contracts he mentioned…

Osamu continues, interrupting your increasingly anxious thoughts, “We’ll talk more in depth in a few days once everything is finalized on both ends.” His face shifts, eyes going cold and voice taking on an edge of authority, “There’ve been issues popping up in Amagasaki again. Someone’s tryin’ to disrupt the supply chain on several of their main exports--exports that we oversee. Half a dozen industrial storage buildings have been subject to catastrophic fires.” The atmosphere of the room shifts to something familiar; the tension that mingles with excitement at the prospect of putting another organization in its place. There’s a spark in Atsumu’s eyes that you can almost feel from across the table when he speaks, “Fuckin’ Takumi Tetsu is at it again, huh?” His laugh is dark, “I really thought danglin’ him by his ankles off the Minato would do it, but I’d love ta really get my hands dirty this time.” You suppress a shiver.

Osamu nods towards his twin before he goes on. “I’m gonna give it another week, ‘n if it’s still an issue we’ll get involved.” Murmurs of understanding and agreement follow the statement, and Osamu finishes by saying, “For now steer clear of the area and take care of yerselves, take care of each other. If ya’ve got any issues come straight to me and I’ll handle it.” Heads nod and Osamu pauses before a smile spreads across his face. He looks like the cat who’s got the cream when he says, “Bring out the good stuff, Aran.” The man in question beams, laughing as he hops up and disappears into the kitchen.

Once conversations have resumed, now louder and more excited than before, Osamu turns to you. “You should stay…” it’s like the words are being forcefully dragged from him, “but ya don’t have to if y-” He’s interrupted by Atsumu who slings an arm around your shoulder, jostling you when he pulls you to his side, “Nah! She’s stayin’, if ya give ‘er the choice she’ll hole up in her room and never come out.”

You try to push him off of you half-heartedly, looking put off, but you honestly don’t mind staying. When Atsumu doesn’t budge, his arm unfairly heavy, you turn back to Osamu. “It’s fine,” you assure him. He searches your face before lifting his eyes to meet Atsumu’s, who just nods back at him with that stupid, cocky smile plastered on his face.

Aran does, in fact, bring out the good stuff. Crystal bottles dated years and years before you were born are passed from hand to hand with cheery encouragements and playful teasing. Osamu doesn’t stay next to you for long, bouncing around the dining room from group to group with ease, a glass of amber liquid always in hand. You politely decline Atsumu’s offer of a drink for the third time and something in your face must make him rethink asking you a fourth. You’re not generally opposed to drinking, just not in a room full of men who are pretty much strangers to you--you don’t even feel comfortable drinking with most of the men you do know.

You must space out because before you realize it, Osamu is next to you again, pushing a steaming cup of tea in your direction. “Chamomile--with a little honey,” he says softly, “grew it myself so I know it’s the good stuff.” His expression is warmer than it has been every other time he’s looked at you, probably for the same reason there’s a healthy flush painted across his cheeks and the tops of his ears are rosy. Wrapping your hands around the heated porcelain you thank him quietly. The two of you don’t exchange any other words, but it’s surprisingly not uncomfortable. You take a sip of your tea, it really is good.

“So…marriage, huh?” aiming for light, your tone lands somewhere a little closer to strained. Osamu’s eyebrows raise and he looks at you in surprise. The expression softens his features, making him look younger. He clears his throat and the flush across his cheeks deepens. “However ya want it to be that’s how it’ll be,” he says, “no questions asked.” Atsumu said the same thing and you didn’t believe him then either, but you nod anyway. “When?” you inquire, feigning nonchalance. He shifts, leaning towards you a little, “By the end of the month.” Oh, that’s…sooner than you’d expected. “M’sorry it’s so fast,” he tells you, “wasn’t my first choice.”

You know that your father supposedly pressured him into this but his words still sting more than they should and you clench your teeth. Osamu picks up on the shift, even though he’s got to be pretty drunk by now judging by the way he stumbles over his words, “That’s not--I…it’s--that’s not what I mean.” His jaw snaps shut when he hears how hard your voice is when you cut him off. “I apologize for burdening you,” you squeeze your hands together where they rest under the table, “this wasn’t my first choice either.” That’s not entirely true, this is much better than how things were before, but it’s only been a week--lots of time for things to change.

Without looking at him, you stand and weave your way through the noise to leave the room--curls of steam still rising from your abandoned cup of tea.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq x reader #osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu #miya atsumu #yakuza au #punk writes #kitsune of stone

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bumblesimagines · 2 years ago

Note

you sure that was your first time?”

“can i kiss you?”

- Josie Saltzman

you sure that was your first time?”

“can i kiss you?”

Pronouns: They/Them, Gender Neutral

In this Josie and Penelope never dated

“Can I kiss you?”

You nearly choked on your smoothie, taking a moment to cough and catch your breath. The brunette stood before you, hands curled into fists and lips rolled into her mouth. Her cheeks and ears had turned a deep shade of red, her dark eyes flickering between the floor and meeting your gaze.

"What?"

"W-We're doing this thing for the school and- and I have to kiss someone. It's our first play and I don't want to embarrass myself. Penelope offered but-" Josie clamped her mouth shut at the mention of the girl she rejected, wincing slightly at the mere thought of her.

"Why me?" You blurted out, setting the half-empty cup down on the table and watching the witch's face turn a deeper shade.

"Well- Cause- We've technically kissed before..." Josie answered, her voice dropping into a quiet murmur.

"When we were seven, Josie and it was a peck. We were playing pretend. Why don't you kiss your scene partner?" You questioned, every word turning her more and more into a tomato.

"I-I don't know! I don't want to be seen as the girl who's a terrible kisser! If Hope were to find out, who knows what she'd say!"

You nearly rolled your eyes at the mention of your cousin. You never truly understood why everyone feared the redhead and never feared you: the vampire-witch hybrid. You were the child of the Kol Mikaelson after all. Seemingly oblivious to your brief moment of irritation, Josie barely noticed you standing up as she continued her flustered babbling.

"Josie."

"And I- Yeah?" Her shoulders slumped slightly and she raised her gaze to meet your eyes. They widened briefly when you leaned in and gently pressed your lips to hers. She tensed up, freezing for a split second before slowly relaxing. Her hands awkwardly searched for a place to settle, finally coming to a rest on your shoulders. Her head tilted to the side and her eyes fluttered shut, her muscles relaxing fully and her body leaning slightly against yours.

Leaning back, you snorted softly. "You sure that was your first time?” You teased lightly and her skin warmed further, head bowing and hair sweeping over her shoulders.

"I- Uhm..." She cleared her throat. "Will... Will you come to the play?"

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densi-mber · 6 months ago

Text

Burning Up

Kensi poured herself a fresh cup of coffee, inhaling deeply before she took a first sip. Normally, Deeks was up before her, but today she had a continuing education conference to attend. Miraculously, the twin had slept past seven too, so she had the kitchen to herself for the moment.

She showered and started on breakfast before Deeks wandered into the kitchen.

“Morning,” he muttered in a scratchy, hoarse voice.

“Oh, you don’t sound great,” Kensi said, coming to stand in front of him.

“Yeah, it’s probably whatever the twins picked up when we went to the waterpark last week.” He cleared his throat a couple times, his voice still gravelly when he spoke again. “I’ll be fine.”

Ignoring him, Kensi gently tugged him in front of the open window, and he winced, closing his eyes at the bright light. Although it was subtle, the skin around his eyes was slightly swollen and red and his complexion shade paler than normal.

“Maybe I should cancel my conference,” Kensi suggested. Although they’d gotten over it pretty quickly, for the first two days Sophia and Caleb were sick, they’d been miserable. She suspected Deeks would handle a nasty sore through and fever with more aplomb than one year old, but he still wouldn’t feel great. “I don’t want to leave you alone to take care of everything by yourself.”

“Kens, this isn’t the first time I’ve have a cold,” he reminded her, with just the tiniest hint of annoyance.

“I know.” She cupped his cheek reassuringly. “We both could work through a broken leg, a bullet wound, and food poisoning if we had to, but you don’t have to.”

Sighing, Deeks squeezed her hand. “That’s true. You need to get this conference out of the way though, so go, I’ll stay with the kids, and I’ll call if I feel like I’m close to swooning.”

“Not swooning allowed,” Kensi told him, leaning on for a kiss. He leaned back, putting his hand between them.

“Ah, you don’t want my germs.”

“Baby, at this point I have any germs you might have.” She gave him a pointed look, bobbing around his hand to kiss him. “Ok. But I’m going to get the kids ready while you shower, because you look like you need reviving.”

After a shower and a full mug of coffee, Deeks seemed a lot more human. When he gave Caleb and Sophia each an airplane ride with his usual energy, she felt a lot less guilty about leaving him manage on his own.

***

The conference went well, and for once, ended early. Deeks had texted Kensi throughout the day, sharing pictures of Caleb and Sophia swinging at the park and little updates. Clearly, he was feeling much better.

“Deeks, I’m back,” she announced as she arrived home. He didn’t respond, so she walked through the house, finding him laying on their bed with the twins crawling over him. “Hey, you guys having fun?”

Caleb turned around, joyfully shouting a mix of words and babble. Sophia offered Kensi a wave before crawling over Deeks’ legs and tugging the hem of his pants.

“Hey,” Deeks said, his voice barely a whisper.

“Oh, baby,” she murmured, hurrying over to him. Deeks stared up at her with glassy eyes and even without touching him, she could tell he was feverish from his bright red cheeks and forehead.

“I don’t feel very good.”

Kensi would have laughed at the understatement if he didn’t sound and look so awful.

“No, I can see that.”

Caleb chose that moment to jump of Deeks’ chest, and he let out a pained gasp. She just barely stopped Sophia from copying her brother.

“Ok, let’s give daddy some space. He’s sick,” Kensi told them, and Caleb’s eyebrows rose in corner.

“Sit?” he repeated.

“Yeah, he’s sick. I’m going to put you in the pack and play for a little bit so I can help daddy.”

Leaning down, Sophia pressed a sloppy kiss to Deeks’ forehead and patted his chest. “Aw gone.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Deeks whispered with the faintest of smiles.

Scooping them up, Kensi carried the twins into their bedroom, setting them up in their playpen with a collection of soft toys. Assured they wouldn’t be able to get into anything or hurt themselves for a little while, she returned to the master bedroom.

Deeks hadn’t moved an inch and regarded her dully as she pulled out a thick blanket from one of the drawers.

“Do you want to change into different clothes?” she asked. He shook his head slowly.

Pushing himself farther up the bed on shaking arms, he made a pained sound, clearly completely miserable.

“Not to be dramatic, but death sounds nice right now,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“S’not your fault.” He turned his face into the pillow, clamping his eyes shut.

Silently, Kensi laid the blanket over him and then stopped in the kitchen and bathroom for more supplies. She came back a few minutes later with a mug of tea, Gatorade, and various medications.

“Deeks, here’s something for your head,” she said, and he cracked one eye open just enough to take the offered bottle and pills. He swallowed them with another wince, immediately falling back down with a groan.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Mmm,” he muttered, which she interpreted as a ‘no’.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she smoothed her hand down his back, massaging him for a few minutes before moving up to his hair and easing the sweaty curls back from his temples.

“Thanks,” he slurred.

“Always, baby.” She kissed his cheek, relieved to see his face relax and breathing start to deepen.

#densimber 8.0 #densimber 2024 #densimber day 23 #ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #densi #Deeks whump #sick fic #worried Kensi #by ejzah

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sw33tsnow · 1 year ago

Text

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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meredith-harper81 · 2 years ago

Text

I’ve Always Loved You💔

He Broke Us ...💔

Chapter 2

Paring : Chris Evans x Lana Parker

Word Count: 3.5k

‼️More Chapters are uploaded on Wattpad.. link in my bio :)‼️

Lana Pov

Aria is babbling some baby nonsense while standing next to my legs as I'm locking up my front door. We are headed to the park to have a late lunch today. All of a sudden I have a feeling like someone is watching me, and I turn around and grab my chest, trying to calm my breathing as if it's just Steven.

"Steven, you scared me; don't ever do that again," I say, grabbing my chest and looking down towards Aria.

"Mommy is scward. Swtevn bad.." Aria babbles, and I can't help but smile. I take her little hand in mine, and my other hand grabs the picnic basket.

"Steven is bad, Aria," I say, picking her up and placing her on my hip, shooting Steven a wink.

"So Lana, you guys are headed to the park, I assume?" he says as he fiddles with his keys.

"Yes, we are; would you like to come along, Steven?" I asked him, already knowing his answer, and trusting my gut, I packed some extra sandwiches.

"Are you kidding me? I would love to," he says as he backs up to let us pass by.

Great, we will meet you there," I say, taking Aria's hand and waving back to Steven as he waves back.

I walk down the stairs of my apartment complex and walk towards my car. I put Aria in her car seat and kiss her little hands, and she giggles. I place our picnic basket next to her and walk around to the driver's side.

"Ready baby?" I ask her as I put my seat belt on and turn the AC on.

"Yeah, mommy," she says.

I smile and turn some music on. I play some Disney songs and pull out, driving towards the park.

Steven was our neighbor in the apartment complex I live in; he moved in when Aria was about seven months old and has been trying to take me out on a date since. I don't think I'm ready to date again, but he is good company and cares for Aria, and I like to think Aria likes him, so I friend-zoned him, but that doesn't stop him from trying.

Once we arrive at the park, I help Aria out of her car seat, he grabs her Mickey Mouse, and I grab the basket. While we wait for Steven, I apply some sunscreen to her arms and her adorable chubby face. After we see Steven pull in, we walk towards one of the play structures and sit down as we watch Aria play. After Aria is done playing on the playground and swings, we walk over to a shaded area.

This is a big park and has three sides. A huge dog park, a kid's park, and a hill where you could have a picnic and hang out with your families.

Okay, my sweet girl, here is your jelly sandwich, crackers, and apple juice," I say as I hand her some napkins and tuck them on under the overalls she's wearing, and we start eating. Steven and I fall back into a conversation about my next book release.

I'm a children's book writer (for the Lucky Dog series), and I stopped writing after having Aria, but recently something inspired me to start writing again. I'm almost finished and waiting to hear from my publishing company. I'm excited to start publishing again. It was the one thing that could shut me out of the real world and help me focus on having a little me time while Aria would nap.

Steven, could you please watch her as I throw away this trash? I say, getting up after we finished eating and Aria insisted on walking around to look at the little flowers around the park.

"Sure thing," he says, grabbing Aria and throwing her up in the sky as she giggles. I pick up everything and place it in the trash bag I brought with me.

"Okay, thank you; I'll be right back," I say, walking away from them. I'm walking towards our car, where I saw some trash cans earlier.

Surprisingly, today the park isn't too crowded, and there are only maybe five families out, which is shocking. I throw away my trash and walk back toward where I left them.

I walk over to Steven, who is sitting on a bench while he is talking on the phone, but I can't see Aria anywhere. I run towards him.

"Steven! Where is Aria? "I'm panicking, looking behind and around him, but I can't see her anywhere.

"Oh, yeah, she was right here looking at the flowers, I swear. I am so sorry," he says as he puts the phone down. He gets up and looks for her, calling her name.

"MOVE!" I yell at him as my blood is boiling and I'm getting scared. Maybe she was taken or ran towards the oncoming traffic... I ran back to where we had lunch.

My heart is panicking, and I'm about ready to cry when I can't see her anywhere.

"ARIA!!! ARIA!!!" I yelled, running around trying to find her.

Where are you, damn it. Aria? Please come back.

I run across the park while Steven runs to the other one, and I'm running around when I hear her giggling... I run faster, and I see her near a tree, under a dog, and a man kneeling near her.

"ARIA, OH MY GOD, ARIA!!!! I yell, running towards them, and I see the dog get up and be pulled again. I run closer, and the man on the ground gets up, and I freeze in the spot.

"NOO! It can't be. Chris! What is he doing here? Why is he here?" I mumble to myself.

I lock eyes with him, and he has the same look as me. I see Dodger, and he runs towards me, almost knocking me down. I push my emotions aside and run over to Aria to pick her up.

"Mommy lowk doggy," she says. I pick her up from Dodger as he licks my leg.

Aria is babbling, and I see her jeans are a little ripped, so I'm guessing she fell down.

I look back at Chris, and he was about to say something when Steven runs up and stands next to us, and before Chris can say anything, I speak up and stop him from saying anything.

"Thank you. Have a nice day, Mr.," I say and walk off with Steven.

"Bye bye, doggy. Mawa Iowe doggy," Aria says as I kiss her cheeks, walking off, not daring to look back.

I walk off, and the tears are falling down fast. Steven seems to notice, and he tries to take Aria from me, and I just hold her tighter. I walk over to my car and unlock it.

I buckle Aria in her car seat as she is babbling about Dodger and trying to tell Steven, and I kiss her head while handing her a cardboard book, and Mickey and I shut the door.

"I'm so sorry, Lana," Steven tries to say something, but I wipe my tears and tell him I will see him soon and talk later. I get in the car and drive off, pushing the emotions aside for Aria. I cannot break down right now.

...

I'm rocking Aria in her bedroom, putting her down for bed after I've given her a shower and cleaned up her cut, and my thoughts are all over the place.

What if he knows and is here to take her away from me?

Why is he back now?

Has he moved on?

After two years, why is he back?

"Mawa..." I hear Aria say, tucking on my shirt, taking me out of my thoughts as I rock her.

"Yes, baby..." I whisper.

"Twat was daddy, with doggie in pawk? Aria asks me, and my eyes are holding on to the tears, not allowing them to escape just yet.

"Yes, yes, baby.. daddy was in the park.. he is back from work.." I say this as I put her in her crib or toddler bed.

"When he comes to live with us..." Aria whispers as her eyes get heavy and her breathing slows down as she falls into a slumber.

I kiss her forehead, turn on the sound machine, grab the baby monitor, and walk out, leaving the door a little open.

...

I walk into the kitchen and grab some water and Tylenol, then walk into the living room and place the baby monitor on the coffee table.

After taking two Tylenols, I chug the water and break down in the living room. Why was he back in Boston, and why didn't Lisa say anything this afternoon when she came by?

I will not let him take my baby away. After all, he did. And the fact that the Dodgers recognized Aria breaks my heart. He always knew before I could even find out.

I met Chris when I used to volunteer at Miles Elementary School's clubs program. My first book series was coming out, and I would come out to the children's library and read my books to the after-school kids in clubs, where Chris walked into my life and stole my heart and made me feel like the luckiest woman alive until he fucked up and threw it all away, while taking my heart with him.

Flashback (2017)

"Carly, which one is he in again? I ask my sister.

"Chris is in room 2b next to the library; just walk in and you will see him." Okay, thanks. I think I can figure it out. Bye, Carly.

"Again, thank you, Chris," she says, and I can hear Stella and Ethan arguing about something in the background.

"Any time," I say, hanging up and getting out of my car.

I hang up the phone and walk into the school office. Carly had an appointment with the big kids, and I need to pick up Miles from after-school clubs. The lady in front has me sign in to a log sheet. She hands me a sticker to put on, and I back up and bump into someone. I hear a thump, and I look down, and I see all her things on the floor. "Oh my," she says in the sweetest voice.

"I'm so sorry," I say and help her up, picking up her folder and book. I get a good look at her, and she is just drop-dead gorgeous.

"It's okay," she says. Before I can say anything, she walks over behind the counter, grabs a patch, and walks by.

I shake my head and walk towards the door of the office to walk onto campus. I look for the library. I spot it on the other side of me, and I run over, and I see most parents inside lined up along the glass wall looking at other children. I walk into the room and see all the kids on the floor waiting quietly. Just then she walks in with a book and introduces herself as Miss. Parker. She starts to read her book, and I can't help but actually listen to the whole children's book.

After she finishes, I can't help but start clapping, breaking the silence, and all eyes are on me as if I needed that. I smile and fidget with my baseball cap and thank God for Miles as he and the other kids start to clap, breaking the awkward silence, and I just smile and kick my feet.

Miles is clapping on the floor with his kindergarten buddies, up to me with his copy of the book.

"Uncle Chwis," he says, catching everyone's attention yet again, and Miss. Parker smiles.

Everyone soon leaves the room as the kids go to grab their belongings from the gym, and I'm left alone with Miss. Parker.

"So Uncle Chwis, you crash all of Miles's afternoon clubs; am I just the lucky one today?" she says mockingly while she grabs her things and walks up to me.

Uh, no, actually, your voice is just so soothing, and I loved your book...and well, um, this is my first time crashing anything," I say, reaching behind my neck and rubbing my hair, and she just laughs.

"Well, thank you, and I'm honored," she says.

"Um, hi, my name is Chris," I say, reaching for her hands, which she takes and are so soft and smooth as she shakes my hand.

"Miss. Parker, nice to meet you, Chris," she says, smiling, and lets go of my hand.

"So, Miss. Parker, do you have a name?" I say I'm trying to shoot my shot, and I smile back at her, and I can see her cheeks brighten as she blushes.

"I do, Captain America, but you're going to have to excuse me; someone there is calling me. See you around," she says as she leaves me stunned, so she knows who I am. I walk out behind her, and Miles runs up to me, and I grab his backpack, leaning it over my shoulder. I grab his hand, and we walk out towards the parking lot over to my car. As we reach the car, I open his door, place his backpack down, and help him in. I see he is holding a copy of The Lucky Dog. I snatched it from him.

"Hey, twats mine," he says as I grab his little hand, shoo it away, and run my fingers through his hair.

"I know I'm just looking after it." I say, and I buckle Miles in and flip to the back of the book.

Ahhh "Alana Parker".

... A few days later

Chris ended up picking Miles up the next Monday in hopes of seeing Lana again, and to his luck, she was there in the library. He smiled and entered and sat through the whole reading again, and this time he tried to be more subtle than last week.

After Lana was done and the kids went to grab their belongings, Chris took the chance and walked over to Lana.

"So, Miss. Parker, or should I say Alana," you have a beautiful name? I'm walking up to her.

"Ahhh yes, Chris. Thank you. My grandparents named me," she says, and he hands me a signed copy of her book.

"So you don't come every Monday and can read at home now?" she snickers while handing me a brand-new copy of her book.

I smile and take it.

Chris ends up asking Lana on a date, and by the second date, he falls in love with her, and he falls hard.

End of Flashback

...

Lana pov

I cannot believe he is back. It's all a big shock to me.

Chris and I hit off pretty quickly after our first and second dates. Five months into dating, I moved in with Chris and put my apartment or home out to lease for someone. A year later, he had to go back to work to promote the last Avengers, and I stayed back in Boston to finish my last book for series one of The Lucky Dog.

We couldn't live without each other and would always call when we weren't working. After 6 months, he came back after the premiere of Endgame. I met his family and friends, and he met my grandparents, and I loved my life.

In late 2017, after just dating for a couple of months, Chris proposed, and I said yes. We told everyone the news in February 2018 that Chris was taking a break from acting, and we agreed to get married in 2019. We had a date and everything. Everyone was so happy for us.

That night it was one of Chris's friends, Tara's birthday, and I wasn't feeling to go, so Chris went to celebrate and I stayed home with Dodger. I hadn't been feeling well for two weeks at the time, and I had placed an Amazon order for some pregnancy tests that just happened to be delivered the same night.

I remember wasting no time and taking a test, and when it came back as pregnant, I jumped up and down. I was with Dodger when I found out, and he was nudging my leg when I found out he was barking along. He had been extra clingy and lying on my tummy the whole week, so that explained that.

I was in our bedroom at the time when I heard the front door open, and I hid the test in my back pocket. I wanted to surprise Chris in a cute way, but that went out the window when I heard his footsteps, and I wanted to tell him right away that he was about to become a dad. We would often daydream about having a little family of our own, and I couldn't believe it was happening.

As soon as Chris walked in the room, he was super drunk—more drunk than I've ever seen him—and he was so angry that night.

Flashback (2019)

"Dodger looks like Daddy is back. Let's surprise him with your little brother or sister. I coo to Dodger, and Dodger barks back. I get up from the ottoman in front of our bed.

I can hear Chris come up the stairs, and out of nowhere I hear glass breaking.

I run out of the room, and I see Chris standing on the stairs, pulling the picture frames of us from the walls and dropping them on the floor, breaking them.

Chris, what are you doing? I say as he stops and looks my way, He looks mad; he is super drunk and can barely walk in a straight line. He walks past me into the room, and I follow behind him as Dodger is behind me whining.

Chris walks over to the bed and falls down, and Dodger runs up to him. I'm still standing by the door, shocked at Chris's behavior. I've seen and been around him when he was drunk in the past, but he's always super cuddly and soft. I've never seen him this annoyed or angry. Dodger gets on the bed and starts to bark and lick his face, which leads Chris to jump up and take Dodger and walk him towards the door and push him outside, and he looks at the door and looks my way.

"Chris, you're scaring me? I say as he walks over.

"SHUT UP!" He yells and I jump. He's never screamed at me.

"Chris, Chris, Chris, Chris... do you ever shut up, Lana? You're so annoying and ugh," he spits out, walking towards me and taking my hand in his.

"Baby.. I-,"

"Don't call me that," he spits out.

I don't have the words for what's happening, and Dodger is barking outside the door.

Chris cages me in, takes my left hand, pulls my ring off, and waves it around in my face.

"You're the mistake, Lana," he slurs.

"GET OUT! I don't want you here," he says as he throws the ring somewhere in the room.

"Get out before you ruin my life." He screams and pushes me out of the room, locking it behind him, and I hear him throwing stuff around.

End of Flashback

I remember him pushing me out, and I stayed out all night long, crying for Chris to open the door, but he didn't. The next morning I woke up on the couch and looked around. It was quiet, and the time was 6:30 in the morning. I went to the gym to check on Chris, and when I didn't see him, I ran upstairs and into the bedroom, and to my surprise, he wasn't there. I thought he and Dodger went on a morning run until I went to use the bathroom and most of Chris's things were gone and so was Dodger, but there was a note on the bed.

Lana Parker

I can't do this; you are in the way between me and my career. I need to go back to LA and try to save my career after Captain America and land some films, and you are in the way. I realized I do not want the same things as you right now, so please leave and never contact me or my family again.

Chris Evans.

I cried and cried that day and remembered I was pregnant with his baby—our baby—baby Aria.

I left Chris's family alone, emptied out his house, and moved back into my old apartment. I ended up blocking everyone I knew of his I went to the doctor when my morning sickness started kicking in, and I found out I was at least 14 weeks pregnant. I was only 5 months old when my grandparents passed away. My only family left wasMy parents were both killed in a car accident, and my grandparents raised me. They were both very successful and had a lot of money left for me and my baby. Grandma eventually found out I was pregnant, and I lied to them and said Chris was away filming. I still regret not telling them the truth; it sometimes haunts me in my sleep. I sold some land they owned in Europe, and I and Aria are good for a lifetime.

When I was nine months pregnant, Lisa ran into me at the supermarket and found out I was pregnant with Chris's baby, and eventually, all the Evans found out. Now Lisa comes over every Friday for lunch or breakfast, and Aria meets her aunts and uncles for holidays, but now that Chris is back, I don't know anymore.

I gather myself off the floor and walk towards my bedroom and into the bathroom. I wash my face and get in the shower.

"You will not let him win Aria," I tell myself in the mirror as I dry my hair.

I walk into my bedroom, place the baby monitor on the nightstand, get into bed, and think of ways to explain to Aria now that her father is back and she's seen him.

#andy barber #chris jamal evans #chris evans x reader #christopher evans #chris evans #steve rogers #chrisevans #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #chris evans fic #chris evans fandom #evansedit #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans x you #chris evans fluff #chris evans angst

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jamisonwritestf2trash · 2 years ago

Note

may i request some sniperscout sillyness.

aka first date between them :3

Sniperscout First Date!

————————————————————

Of course you can! SniperScout is one of my all-time favorite ships 😭 I love writing about them. So I'll break this down into two things because I've gotta add the silliness of Scout asking Sniper out.

————————————————————

So, off the bat, neither of these guys knows how to ask someone on a date or how to date. Sniper tried sp hard to ask Scout out, working up the courage multiple times only to talk himself out of it at the last moment. Like Sniper sneaks up to Scout's door after successfully avoiding all the other mercs, with like flowers or something and knocks, all ready to confess, but then he hears Scout get up to open the door and he panics and leaves. Scout just opens the door and is so confused. He probably thinks the base is haunted. Scout is also way too nervous about asking Sniper out, but he's the one who ultimately makes the first move. Honestly, he'd end up doing the same thing as Sniper but gets caught.

Scout runs up to Snipers van. He's nervous as hell, hands shaking slightly, he knocks lightly on the door and the second he hears Sniper shuffling towards the door it all becomes to real and he freaks out, he starts to run away but Sniper has already opened the door, and is calling him back. Scout turns around, clasping his hands together in a nervous way, chuckling a little,

"Hey, Snipes! Uh, how ya doing?" Is the only thing he manages to say. He starts babbling about this and that trying to find an excuse for why he was there, his face is a little pink already. Sniper finally just bluntly asks him why he's there.

"Well, I- you see, I uh," Scout internally freaking out, he doesn't know why this has to be so hard, he's asked Miss Pauling out repeatedly and has been turned down every time, so why was that was less nerve-wracking than this? He finally just takes a deep breath, looks up for a minute, and spits it out before he has a chance to stop himself,

"Will you go on a date with me?" Sniper is turning a shade of red under his glasses as a moment of silence fills the air, Scout immediately takes this as a rejection and goes on damage control,

"Uh, SIKE! You shoulda seen the look on your face, haha, imagine us together that'd be so..."

"Yes." Scout immediately shut up,

"Wait, really? Uh, I mean, of course you'd say yes, who could resist this?" He says, gesturing to himself. Sniper just shook his head and told Scout to meet him at seven. They both acted cool when they walked away but immediately freaked out after they were a good distance away from each other.

————————————————————

Surprisingly, Scout was more nervous asking Sniper out than he was actually taking him out on a date. They end up deciding to go to some shitty burger joint outside of town. Scout gets to the restaurant at 7... am. (kidding! But that's one of my favorite Scout quotes). They agreed to meet at Sniper's van. He's driving after all. Scout knocks on the door, Sniper answers, and he's actually sort of dressed up, well as dressed up as he can be, and Scout gets a dumb grin on his face, teasing him about it. Sniper just hits him on the head, muttering something about regretting this already. They get in the van and drive off. Scout spends most of the drive talking about random things to fill the dead air that would have otherwise laid around them, and Sniper just listens with a soft smile. Nothing has change between them, Sniper was afraid of that, he almost turned Scout down when he asked, scared of ruining their friendship, but he'd be lying if he said a large part of him didn't want their to be something more. They pull up to the burger joint and head in, and it goes much the same as it did in the van. Scout joking and talking Sniper's ear off, and Sniper is listening in, his feelings growing more and more as the minutes pass. Scout even managed to finally drag a couple of laughs, stories, and jokes out of Sniper. They spend the night just eating and enjoying each other's company. But in the end, as Sniper is driving back, he looks at Scout, who's tired but still smiling and talking softly, looking out the window. He wonders if this was any different than what they normally do. Sure, maybe during dinner, the conversations got a bit deeper than usual, but does that mean anything more that their friendship growing. Scout can pick up on the fact that Sniper is getting in his own head, and as slyly as he can, grabs a hold of his hand, sqeezing it gently. They pull up back to the base, both getting out of the van, Sniper asking Scout if he wants to stay and talk for a minute, maybe share a drink, Scout agrees and heads inside, they talk for more than a minute thought, more like an hour or two. Sniper eventually asks something about how their relationship is going to change or has changed, his worries from earlier slipping out, flowing freely due to the alcohol. Scout tries to think of a way to describe it, but he can't quite get the words, so he resorts to action. He grabs Sniper by the collar and kisses him. It's soft and gives off all the emotions Scout would have loved to vocalize. When he break the kiss he has a shit eating grin, and says,

"Now I can do that!" He feels proud of himself for all of two seconds, then realizing what he did, he turns a shade of red no human is able to replicate, he jumps up and starts speaking way to fast, walking to the door, laughing slightly,

"Ahaha, um, oh would you look at the time! I should actually be leaving. You know gotta rest up for tomorrow and all, bye Snipes!" He's walking down the stairs ready to make his run to the base only to be pulled back by Sniper, who Scout didn't realize had recovered from the kiss a lot faster than he had anticipated.

"Oh no, you don't get to just run away after that." Sniper teases. Scout only lets out a nervous chuckle and starts trying to mix an appology and explanation together,

"Oh, well actually, um, see, I only did that because-" Sniper just shuts him up with a kiss of his own. Once it ends, both of them are blushing, and both of them know exactly what's changed. Sniper asks if Scout wants to stay the night, and Scout agrees. The get in the bed together and lay in the quiet darkness for a moment, before Scout asks,

"You know what else I can do now?"

"What?"

"Tell you that I love you." Sniper just laughs a little at the cheesiness and just says,

"I love you too."

————————————————————

Oops, this became way too sweet! Also, sorry, not much sillyness about the date itself, I think these goobers save all their sillyiness as pre - and post stress before events. I'm giggling rn. I love these two. Anyways, one ask down, 20 to go 💪💪 thank you guys for being patient with me :,)

Also, I always finish these fics right before I go to bed, so I'm always paranoid they make no sense, but it's fun.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 headcanons #tf2 scout #tf2 sniper #speeding bullet #sniperscout

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samiamdandles · 2 years ago

Text

The Reminders

Summary: Collei being reminded of Dottore and having a major mental freakout, reader tries their best to comfort her. Word Count: 1k Warnings: Angst(?) Hurt/Comfort, Mention of S H, Extremely Traumatized Collei, Female reader, Platonic, Reader isnt good at comforting.

Authors note: just a small one shot, was thinking about collei sm </3 hopefully this Angst is ok its my first one thats kinda angsty.

That distinct smell of copper and the sterile smell of hospitals insulted Collei’s nose. It hit her while she was alone, cleaning the statue of seven, she froze, looking around. Sometimes, for no reason, her mind liked to play cruel tricks on her, forcing her to remember the smell of him. Seeing the same shade of blue his hair was, his smell, his mannerisms she would see in other people, it made her shake. No, she couldn’t let this get to her, she had to prove that she was capable.she hadn’t thought about him at all for years, now suddenly this and the few times this month? No, she had to prove she was over it, over him, and was a capable forest ranger. It still didn't stop her from shaking uncontrollably, not realizing how her heart rate had increased significantly. Her mind starting to wander as she finished her task, rushing to head home when she was done. Tighnari caught her on the way, calling out to her, “Collei? Are you okay? C’mere, let me take care of you.” she usually would’ve appreciated it, but the way he said it just reminded her so much of him. “Just leave me alone. You don’t fucking help anyways.” she yelled out, breaking out into a jog. Tighnari was left there, mouth wide open from the interaction.

Day three. Three days of Collei not eating, and refusing to leave her house. You were sat outside her house, a tray of food and a cup of water next to you. “Collei, I am begging you to please please eat. I’m letting you know now that i will come in by force if you don't eat by tonight.” you waited to hear something, anything, but nothing. The pit in your stomach kept getting worse day by day. You never left your spot outside her house unless absolutely needed, only when Tighnari had begged you to do something. As the sun started to set, you made your way back to Collei’s after Tighnari had begged you to help with some work, a soft knock at her door and a fresh tray of food for her ready. “Collei, if you don't answer me I am coming in, love.” you tried to be gentle about it, waiting for a response. A few long moments before you hear her lock click and her door open ajar. “Come in.” she whispered, her voice sounded so meek. You entered slowly, taking in the state of her home, and her when you finally saw her. Her eyebags, the fidgeting, the tear stains and the way she seemed so skinny and frail. “Collei..” she couldn't look you in the eyes, sitting back down on her bed. “He just won't leave.” she croaked, she brought her knees up to her chest, rocking herself. Your heart shattered, realizing what was going on, you hated seeing her in this state. She was your best friend, someone you loved and you weren't even sure what to do. “I’m going to sit by you if that's okay.” you figured it would be best to announce your movements giving her current state, once you heard no protest, you set the tray on the bedside table and sat on her bed, keeping distance. You would try to get her to eat later tonight.

You figured she just needed someone there physically so you would gladly take that role. “I’m here for you.” is all you said, glancing over at her. Collei buried her face into her knees, she wasn’t sure why, but hearing those words, especially from you just made her feel a certain way. She started to sob uncontrollably, gripping herself tighter. “I miss him at the same time. Am I broken? Why? I know I shouldn't.” She babbled, you hushed her, you wanted to hug her and hold her, but you couldn’t. You both sat there for a few beats, listening to her choked sobs. As you opened your mouth to say something, Collei turned to you, her arms stretched out. “I just- i wanted to forget but i wanted to be close to him again- and i didnt- “ that’s when you realized why she was showing you her arms. You gasped lightly, quickly getting up to go get tighnari. “I’ll be back love, let me get Tighnari.” “No!” she yelled, she surprised even herself with how abrupt she was. “Please.. Just.. stay with me for a while?” you stared at her, debating and chewing on your lip. You examined her arms, after rummaging around and finding spare bandages you patched her up, deeming it okay to get tighnari after you sat with her. “Can you please eat something? Even just half a pita pocket would make me happy.” you pleaded, picking up a pita pocket, urging her. She begrudgingly complied, taking the pita pocket from you and taking small bites.

“Thank you.” you watched her as she ate, she just stared off into space as she ate, but she did end up eating an entire pita pocket. That entire night was just you two sitting in silence, once in a while interrupted with Collei telling you about her thought process, or stuff that worried her. It helped having you there, you helped calm her down, she felt safe. A few hours into the night, you both had made yourselves comfortable, you at her table reading your novel while Collei laid in her bed, toying with a plushie she owned. “Do.. do you want to sleep with me?” she stared at you expectantly, fidgeting and chewing on her lip as she awaited your answer. You were taken back, sure you two were best friends but you had never slept over with her before. “Sure.” She moved over, watching your every move as you got into her bed, still trying to be mindful of her and her space. The two of you laid there, staring at each other in silence. It was for sure awkward, but Collei had never felt more at peace, the thoughts of him disappeared completely, and her heart stilled. “Goodnight.” “Goodnight Collei, please remember to apologize to Tighnari in the morning.” is all you had sad before the two of you eventually succumbed to sleep. The next morning you awoke to Collei nestled against you, her face buried in the crook of your neck.

#genshin impact #collei #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #collei x reader #genshin angst #angst #genshin dottore #il dottore #dottore #female reader #genshin female reader

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narrators-journal · 7 months ago

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It was amazing if it’s okay could you do a part two of god tatsujun where they get to know each other and make moves on each other plus Jun cuddling Tatsuya for warmth and Tatsuya wanting to make out with Jun

Okay, so! This was partially written before I left home, so it wasn’t TOO hard to finish up. But, somehow it still took me an entire day to finish this bitch up. Guess that’s what I get for losing the initial plot so hard, huh? Either way! It’s done now, and while it might not be the intended scenario (it was gonna originally be a lot longer, that’s all I really remember), I still enjoy how this one turned out. I need to remember to make Tatsuya painfully awkward more often lol.

As a human, Tatsuya Suou had a few ideas what a godly life would entail, but no clue beyond those assumptions what being a god was truly like. In the time he’d been alive as a human, not every thunder storm or fire was blamed on the ill temper of a god. People no longer believed a pantheon of omnipotent gods lived on a very climbable mountain nearby. That was all from the far past. The gods were ancient, they were powerful, and surely they weren’t familiar with things like cellphones and cars.

So, when he had been offered the chance to intern under Apollo and eventually take over his duties, Tatsuya had assumed that he’d be sent into a world locked in that same distant time period. Into a world of stone-built homes, wild greenery, and a daily chance to have lunch with a deer or bear.

Yet, that wasn’t at all what he’d found upon entry into the godly realm. The home he swept with the panicked speed of a forgetful child wasn’t built by hand, stone by stone, it had an automatic gate. The gods weren’t ancient, lovecraftian beings, but were effectively eternal college kids with no concept of a credit card limit or of classes. The clothes he threw into the water heater’s closet from the kitchen table weren’t togas and loin cloths, but an ancient Seven Sisters high school shirt that he’d used a few days prior to mop up a spilled lunch of cold beefaroni.

In short, it hadn’t been what Tatsuya Suou expected when he was turned into a god. The same way he hadn’t expected a chipper knock at his front door to remind him that it was late evening, he hadn’t showered, and

Fuck, why am I surprised? Jun said he was on the way, like, an HOUR ago. He scolded himself while he damn near pole vaulted himself over one of the armchairs in his spacious living room to get to the front door. Where, he yanked the door open to try to be casual in the way that he leaned against the frame. As if he hadn’t nearly headbutted the smaller ravenette that stood on his stoop with a bright smile, lightly floral-scented button-up, and black slacks. Because, once again, the moon deity was perfectly dressed for the occasion. All while Tatsuya stood in front of him in a pair of ratty sweatpants that were only kept above his ankles by one of his hips with a worn, faded graphic t-shirt that he wore as pajamas.

Tatsuya was still in his pajamas. Jun was dressed up and gorgeous, with his hair no longer pinned back away from his starlit eyes, so only one of them was visible as Tatsuya looked down at him in his pajamas. “Oh god, fuck, I’m sorry.” He babbled, his tanned cheeks already a palpable darker shade as he scrambled back into the too-large home with Jun on his heels. “For what? Did you forget our date, honeysuckle?” the god asked as he primly stepped into the brunette’s home and looked around. “No! No, of course not.” the brunette insisted from the other side of the living room now, his brown eyes alight with nerves as he scanned the sectional couch, glass coffee table with decorative pottery on a stack of magazines, the pointless tasteful paintings on the rental-white walls, and those curtains you might find in a Better Homes and Gardens magazine. Oh god, this place looks horribly fake… “I-I-I meant about my clothes, I’m in my japam- pajamas. I’m in my pajamas.”

He heard the moon deity giggle at his panic while he made a beeline for the upstairs master bedroom. Only to return to Jun still politely by the door with his hands folded behind his back, “O-oh, uh, you can come in, have a seat on the couch.” The tall brunette said with a wave to the fancy seating, which Jun smiled about and flopped onto easily. “I take it you haven’t figured out how to change this place’s look?” He asked casually, Tatsuya able to feel his beautiful eyes on him as he busied himself with a hunt for the tv remote. “I haven’t had the money to buy new furniture, no. How does a god go about that, anyways?” and Jun shrugged, “I tend to change mine based on my mood, so I assume you just picture what you’d prefer.”

As he said it, Tatsuya joined him on the couch with a small oof at how he sunk into the couch’s cushioning. Which, turned into a bit of a tired sigh when all of the anxiety and embarrassment fled him. Helped somewhat by the way that Jun snuggled himself comfortably into the brunette’s side as if that was where he belonged and he wasn’t one step above a stranger to the new sun god. “Well, yeah, I haven’t figured out how to do that, and I hope I don’t need my imagination for Netflix to work or whatever.” He chuckled, and while he still refused to look directly at Jun, he could feel the lunar god’s eyes on him as he flicked through streaming service options as if they both didn’t know the connotations of the situation or Jun’s intentions.

#persona #persona 2 #Tatsujun #Tatsuya Suou x Jun Kurosu #ask #scenario #god au #alternate universe #god!Tatsujun #au #Tatsuya Suou #Jun Kurosu

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tradetobest · 2 years ago

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hrpf recs? 🙏

OH BOY OK. so. this list definitely leaves out some of my faves, but thats just because there are some things that i Will Not rec... like 300 of my bookmarks are private its CRAZY. anyway.

in the interest of length i will probably only be reccing 1-3 fics per ship, so this is my ao3 recs section shortened from the 78 eligible items to whatever i thought fit this list best. so. with that out of the way lets get started

sidgeno

More Things In Heaven And Earth by CloudCover (Unrated, 23.8k)

The hydrophones have been picking up nonsense for the past three days and Zhenya has had it up to here, honestly.

i must have babbled about this fic for a full fucking week to anyone who would listen after i finished it. MERMAIDS. the way their relationship develops over time. the way. the way EVERYTHING. i love this fic with my whole heart

Just What Was Rumpelstiltskin Expecting to Do with a Baby, Anyway? by withershins (T, 24.7k)

Turning to a witch to save a loved one's life is one of the riskier gambles a person can take, but it's one that's arguably noble and brave. Falling in love with the witch, though—now that's just foolish.

now if theres any sidgeno fic i have recced more than the first one its this one because OH MY GOD i love this fic so much. like .... the tumblr post its based off of is one of my favourite little blurb posts EVER and withershins captured it PERFECTLY this fic is PERFECT to me..... please read this

Clear Blue Morning by CloudCover (Unrated, 10.4k)

Zhenya is re-looping the hair elastic around Alina's braid when he becomes aware there’s someone standing in the doorway. He glances up, and his hands freeze in place. Sidney fucking Crosby is standing there, looking hesitant, with a half-empty water bottle dangling from one hand.

not only am i a sucker for kid fics i am an absolute SUCKER for single parent/hockey player fics, and this encapsulates my love for that. plus, geno's daughter is adorable in this. i ADORE this fic ive read it like 8 times.

the full version of this list is here and i would REALLY recommend checking it out because all of the fics on it are really good and i literally got a headache trying to cut it down bcs of how good these fics are ok

1634 (marnsthews)

Pull a Tavares by nationalhorribleleague (Series link, T, full series wordcount 42.2k)

Mitch Marner signs as a UFA with the Toronto Maple Leafs after seven years as an Arizona Coyote. How Auston Matthews and Mitch Marner deal with it (and fall in love).

OUGHHHH..... WHAT CAN I EVEN SAYYYY,.,,, yotes mitch to toronto and him and auston fall in love is like My Perfect Fanfic. literally my dreams come true. if you have never read this PLEASE READ BOTH FICS theyre both so fucking good

Three Loves by MycroftexMachina (T, 20.8k)

Mitch Marner: secret genius.

i used to joke about hrpf fics being super minimalist in their tagging and descriptions but holy fuck does this fic's outside understate whats on the inside. i have never felt the way i felt while reading this fic its literally insane. if you read nothing else on this list read this because the sheer emotion it evokes and the subject matter and everything to its core spoke to me on an insane level. i love this fic so much.

mceichel

LITERALLY ANY MCEICHEL FIC BY IDDAY IS GOOD. ALL OF THEM ARE GOOD READ ALL OF THEM. THIS LIST WOULD BE ALL IDDAY IF I RECCED ANY OF THEM JUST READ THEM ALL (but particularly you can make me a drink, take it offline, camera flashes make it look like a dream, with abandon, no other shade of blue but you, and out of the blue) READ ALL OF THOSE TRUST

Part of Me (Pours out of You) by crankyrage (M, 14.2k)

“I don’t know if you’ve heard but Edmonton Oilers’ Captain Connor McDavid is using your last single as his goal song this year,” the interviewer tells him lightly. “I’ve seen,” Eichel smiles at him charmingly. “I write songs for people to cry to at 1AM, so I’m not really sure if he understands what that song’s about.” (Or, Jack's an international, grammy-winning pop star, and Connor's, well, Connor.)

once again i fall victim to my own nonhockey/hockey tendencies, but this fic is worth all of it and more. i AM crazy about popstar jack and the entire plot of this fic. please read this

Some People Watch Golf on TV (and Neither of Those Things Make Sense to Me) by crankyrage (T, 40.4k)

His relationship with golf is probably one of the most complicated in his life. He loves it. Breathes it. Lives it. Gives everything to it, and the only thing he gets in return sometimes is rejection and this pain to carry around to remind himself that he’s a failure – that he’ll never be what they say he could be. And yet, no matter how much golf rejects him, makes him hate himself, makes him hate the world, hell golf even took his best friend from him, he always comes back. It’s almost like an addiction. So, Connor loves golf. Would die without it, probably. But, at the same time, sometimes not only is it not rewarding, it isn’t fun in the slightest. (Or a PGA Tour AU that no one, truly no one, asked for)

I ASKED FOR IT. I DIDNT KNOW I ASKED FOR IT IT BUT I DID AND IT IS AMAZING AND BEAUTIFUL AND OHH. THIS FIC LITERALLY ALMOST MADE ME WATCH GOLF. in all seriousness, i have blabbed about this fic so much anyone who knows me irl would probably roll their eyes but its just so good, such a good exploration of learning to love and just. god. read this

the ghost you're dressed up as by brockachu (E, 36.7k)

Jack thinks he made his own dream boy. Jack thinks he made his own nightmare. "The whole house creaks, long, drawn out, groaning, like some sort of creature calling in the night. Maybe old houses just can’t help being old. Connor leans into Jack’s left side, runs soft lips up the curve of Jack’s ear, whispers not-words that Jack can’t process. The hum cuts out. The groaning snaps off. There is no sound. No Connor."

a MASTERFUL exploration in how writing can be used. literally one of the best pieces of literature i have read PERIOD. i have never been a big fan of horror OR non-linear narrative but this fic does both AMAZINGLY and in such a way that i can and will talk about it all the time. READ THIS FIC.

mcstrome (plus)

The Next Next One by yourblues (M, 71.2k)

No, Dylan has not picked up a copy of the book, nor does he plan to anytime soon. No, he has not talked to Connor about it. He hasn’t talked to Connor about anything in a long time, but the media does not need to know that.

oh my god. this fic got recced to me and i didnt read it and shoved it in my marked for later and it kept like, popping up to haunt me and finally i said fuck it and read it and OH MY GOD ITS SO FUCKING GOOD!! nevermind that im insane abt the 2015 draft class this fic is just SO GOOD its insane. read this because op did SUCH a good job i cant even describe it

nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy by orphan_account (T, 14.4k)

The thing is, Dylan and Mitch and Connor used to be in a band, in high school. They were a fucking trio, like Blink-182: Mitch on drums, Dylan on bass, and Connor on guitar. They called themselves Ten Minute Misconduct, and they fucking ruled. They sold an unprecedented 40,000 copies of their first album, which was out before they’d even graduated high school, and they went on legit tours and had legit fans. Brothers for life. They were gonna conquer the world together. And then, two years ago, Connor abandoned them. (Or, sometimes you just have to bury the hatchet. The Pop Punk AU.)

the second in a series that has a benneguin prequel that is also very good!! i LOVE bands . and my bandom history made me read this and NO REGRETS i loved this fic so fucking much. if you love bands and warped tour and like. that sort of Vibe please read both fics in this series

Heart Duplex by jamesiee, solarperigee (T, 15.6k)

“Oh, shit,” Dylan laughs, pointing at the screen. “What about this guy?” The description is objectively bad and Dylan has to bite his lip to keep a straight face while Connor reads it. What up I'm Mitch I'm 19 and my best friend fuckin ditched me to get a place with his hot swedish boyfriend so I need someone cool to make him jealous Must be chill w hockey (leafs 4 lyfe) gays (dick 4 lyfe) and video games (fortnite 4 lyfe) NO LIZARDS THEY SCARE ME “Oh my god,” Connor whispers in the flattest voice possible.

this is the plus in mcstrome plus because this is mitch/connor/dylan!! it is FUCKING HILARIOUS and amazing and beautiful and just. the vibe is excellent. i have reread this fic so much and it gets better literally every time because its just that good. insane.

mattdrai

liebe geht durch den magen by lighthousetowers (T, 6.2k)

All Leon wanted were some easy recipes, and instead he got this guy, this – Matthew Tkachuk, alias tkachukycheese, YouTube channel owner by bi-weekly afternoon and dietician who works a lot with school classes by normal profession. Matthew holds up a potato peel broken in two pieces. “And just remember, if it doesn’t work out perfectly, that’s fine. It’s all about practice and trying and enjoying the process. Perfection isn’t a prerequisite for being liked. Just look at the Oilers."

this fic unironically singlehandedly got me into mattdrai. literally SO good i have read it so many times. and another nonhockey/hockey au. you know me.

ambigous middle area between mattdrai and mcdrai. mcmattdrai

(Get a Torch and a Flame and) Burn the Path You Want by Linsky (E, 80.2k)

If there’s one thing Leon knows, from the very beginning, it’s that Connor McDavid isn’t for him. If there’s a second thing he knows, it’s that Matthew Tkachuk is a grade-A asshole.

common linsky banger. i LOVE the wolfverse and these three in this fic are jus SOOOOO,..... GAWD. like i ate it up like fucking . pasta with butter. and i LOVE pasta with butter.

mcdrai

if we make it through december (we'll be fine) by softnoirr

“Are you uh,” Connor takes a breath, “Are you doing anything for Christmas?” Leon pauses. Or: Connor and Leon go home for the holidays, break up, and come back together, just not precisely in that order.

WHO BRINGS THEIR EX TO THEIR PARENTS PLACE FOR CHIRSTMAS. connor mcdavid, thats who. and it makes for some EXCELLENT FIC. i lovelovelove this one so much

j,. jamie and trevor?? ship name. 611???? what are they called

There's Gold in Them There Hills, or Alchemy for Dummies by CitrineDaydream (E, 43.2k)

Jamie Drysdale is a witch. Well, a witch-in-training, out on his final journey to prove himself-- a pilgrimage to put himself through the seven steps of Alchemical Process. His contentious spirit guides have sent him across the continent from Ontario to California to find something that they refuse to reveal to him. Trevor Zegras is a rookie ranch hand, leaving New York for the freedom of the West. Far from home, he's still kept up with his families traditions and the ways they work with nature for prosperity and protection. He is absolutely, definitely not a witch. Jamie is at least intuitive enough to know the gold he seeks isn't literal metal, but that's about as far as he trusts his instincts, and that's the majority of the problem. When his spirit guides freeze him out in an attempt to foster his intuition, the goofy cowboy seems to be the best bet he's got to unlock his path to growth that he can't seem to find to on his own.

this started my cowboy kick literally this fics fault its CRAZY. i dont even. know how to describe how much i fucking loved this fic its so good PELASE read it if you love cowboys or witches OR if you have eyes. 10/10

AAND THERE WE GO!! or at least. i have to stop because i ran out of open ao3 tags and the site has stopped working. please enjoy when you can anon!! and if you want somethign specific just lmk

but also there is this one elias pettersson/brock boeser or however you spell that fic and i literally know NOTHIGN about these guys but this fic was so good ask if interested because i am interested in introducing others to it

#asks #fic recs #ao3 rlly killed my plans here damn #i did get a lot out though and rlly this is pretty comprehensive #and if you followed me you probably like at least one of these so #enjoy!!

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