#HOWEVER as much as i will miss being present in their life i hope it's okay for me to look for my own favorite person as well

[hoshifighting]

Aphrodisiac Liquor

— Synopsis: Where you're out for a night with your friends, and you decide to try an aphrodisiac liquor, feeling the warmth gradually spreading through your body, your best friend Mingyu starts to appear a little too sexy. — Word Count: 5.1k — WARNINGS: smut, oral (f. and m. receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, chocking, overstimulation, alcohol consumption, horny asf reader, fucked out Mingyu, objetification (Mingyu mentions himself as reader's fuck toy), and dick riding.

The pulsating beat of the music reverberated through the dimly lit club, enveloping the dance floor in a rhythmic energy that matched the collective excitement of the reunited friends. You stood in the center of the vibrant chaos, surrounded by familiar faces and the lively atmosphere of the night.

Mingyu, your best friend, flashed a wide grin as he clinked his drink against yours. "Cheers to finally getting the gang back together!" he shouted over the music, laughter twinkling in his eyes. The last few gatherings had always felt incomplete, someone missing here or there, but tonight was different. Everyone was present, and the joy was palpable.

Woozi, the voice of reason in your group, raised an eyebrow as he observed the already empty bottles scattered across the table. "I hope you two are keeping your promise about not drinking too much," he teased, sipping his own drink with a smirk.

You and Mingyu exchanged guilty glances, aware that your resolve was already wavering. However, compared to the chaos that was unfolding around you, with Dokyeom dancing his way through the crowd like a human pinball, Seungkwan engaging in animated conversations that almost turned into arguments, and Soonyoung returning from the bar with two more bottles of liquor in hand, you and Mingyu felt relatively composed.

"Alright, I admit, maybe we'll take it easy," you chuckled, watching as Dokyeom narrowly avoided another collision on the dance floor.

Mingyu nodded in agreement, but his eyes gleamed mischievously. "Just a little more won't hurt, right?" he said, pouring a modest amount into his glass.

As the night progressed, the club transformed into a haven of laughter, dancing, and unrestrained merriment. The DJ played a mix of old favorites and current hits, prompting everyone to let loose on the dance floor. Woozi found himself reluctantly pulled into a lively dance circle, while Dokyeom continued his mission to navigate the crowd with unpredictable dance moves.

As Soonyoung proudly presented the array of liquor bottles on the table, your eyes were drawn to one particular bottle covered in an intriguing green and purple cloth. Curiosity piqued, you reached for a shot cup and poured yourself a small measure of the mysterious concoction. The liquid gleamed in the dim light of the club, promising an adventure for your taste buds.

Bringing the cup to your lips, you took a shot, savoring the sweet burn that spread across your tongue. The flavor was unique, a blend of sweetness and warmth that left a tingling sensation in its wake. Intrigued, you picked up the bottle to read more about the drink. Just under the bold name "Har" was a smaller inscription that caught your attention – "aphrodisiac drink."

You chuckled, dismissing it as a mere marketing gimmick. Placing the bottle back on the table, you rejoined the conversation with Chan, discussing music, life, and everything in between. However, as the minutes passed, you couldn't shake the subtle change in the atmosphere around you.

As Chan's voice faded into the background, your focus shifted to an inexplicable sensation coursing through your veins. A warmth, almost like a surge of electricity, tingled beneath your skin, spreading from the center of your being. Mingyu's concerned gaze met yours as you struggled to steady yourself.

"I-I'm okay," you managed to stammer out, trying to mask the sudden rush of sensations that seemed to intensify with every passing second.

But as Mingyu reached out a hand, concerned etched on his face, the effects of the mysterious drink became undeniable. Your heart raced, a flush painting your cheeks as your breaths quickened. The realization hit you like a lightning bolt – that bottle, hidden under the cloth, wasn't just any liquor. It was something more potent, something that had triggered a profound reaction within you.

"Maybe it wasn't just a slogan," you muttered, feeling both flustered and perplexed by the unexpected turn of events.

Mingyu's eyes widened in understanding as he glimpsed the bottle's label. His eyebrows shot up, mirroring your own astonishment. "An aphrodisiac drink? Seriously?" He sulks at you.

The room seemed to spin slightly as your senses heightened, and you struggled to regain composure. Mingyu steadied you, concerned. "We need to get you some fresh air," he suggested, guiding you away from the table and the increasingly curious gazes of your friends.

The air outside the club was cool against your heated skin, a welcome relief from the whirlwind of sensations that had taken hold. Mingyu hovered nearby, offering a steadying presence as you tried to regain your equilibrium.

"Is it getting any better?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

You nodded, feeling the effects slowly subside. "Yeah, I think so..."

The two of you shared a glance, a mixture of amusement and disbelief coloring the moment. Mingyu chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. "Note to self: avoid mysterious cloth-covered bottles from now on."

Mingyu's suggestion to head home triggered a mix of frustration and amusement within you. "I'm fine, really," you protested, your voice carrying a hint of irritation. The effects of the drink had subsided, leaving you feeling more embarrassed than anything else, but Mingyu's protectiveness had a way of both comforting and irking you at the same time.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, come on. You were practically ready to start a revolution back there," he teased, nudging you gently. "Let's not have you causing chaos in the club."

With a begrudging nod, you relented, acknowledging the logic in his words despite your reluctance. The taxi ride was a blur of streetlights and passing cars, the cool glass of the window offering a soothing sensation against your forehead as you leaned against it.

Mingyu sat beside you, occasionally stealing glances to ensure you were alright. "I know it's a bit annoying, but I'd rather get you home safe," he said, his tone softened by genuine concern.

A sigh escaped your lips, a mix of embarrassment and gratitude mingling within you. "I appreciate it, even if I'm not a fan of being babied," you admitted, offering a small smile in acknowledgment of his efforts.

The rest of the ride was spent in comfortable silence, the cityscape passing by as the taxi made its way toward your destination. Despite the unusual turn of events and Mingyu's overprotective nature, there was a sense of reassurance in having a friend who cared so deeply.

As the taxi rolled along the city streets, the heat returned, and your discomfort grew. The air conditioning in the taxi seemed to be struggling against the warmth, leaving you feeling a bit flustered. Mingyu, ever resourceful, rummaged through the pocket behind the driver's seat and emerged triumphantly with a flyer.

He grinned mischievously, turning the flyer into an impromptu fan. With a flourish, he began fanning you, creating a makeshift breeze that elicited a burst of laughter from both of you. The absurdity of the situation and Mingyu's quick thinking turned the taxi into a scene of amusement rather than discomfort.

Arriving home, the cool air of your apartment was a welcome relief from the residual warmth of the night. Mingyu, seemingly accustomed to the layout of your place, strolled in as if it were his own. The comfort of having him around, especially on a random Tuesday or after an eventful night, was a testament to the strength of your friendship.

As you disappeared into the bathroom for a much-needed cold bath, the sound of the TV coming to life echoed through the apartment. Mingyu had settled onto the couch, making himself at home with ease. The flickering light from the TV cast a soft glow on the living room, creating a cozy ambiance.

The cold water worked wonders against the lingering effects of the aphrodisiac drink, leaving you feeling refreshed – but not feeling like yourself, since the discomfort between your legs was still noticeable.

As you settled onto the couch beside Mingyu, he handed you a cold bottle of water, his concern for your well-being evident. The movie played on the screen, and you tried to focus on the plot, letting the scenes unfold before you. However, your attention kept drifting to the person seated next to you.

Mingyu's features seemed to catch the light in just the right way – the well-combed black hair, the slightly open buttons of his shirt, and the casual roll of his sleeves revealing the tan skin of his forearms. Your gaze couldn't help but linger on the details that seemed to intensify in the dim glow of the TV. His thick thighs encased in denim drew your eyes, and the flickering light played on his lips, making them seem unusually inviting.

Caught in the moment, your eyes met his, and a sudden awareness passed between you. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you quickly averted your gaze, attempting to redirect your thoughts back to the movie. You scolded yourself for entertaining such thoughts, trying to dismiss the images that lingered in your mind.

Mingyu, however, noticed the shift in your demeanor. He shot you a curious look. "Everything okay?" he asked, his eyes lingering on yours.

You nodded quickly, taking a sip of the cold water to distract yourself. "Yeah, just got lost in thought for a moment."

You fought to maintain your focus on the movie, but an undeniable sweetness lingered on your palate, a reminder of the lingering effects of the aphrodisiac drink. The cold bath, despite its earlier refreshing touch, seemed futile in quelling the simmering heat beneath your skin. – To be honest, now the bath didn't work shit – It pulsed through you, intensifying with each passing moment.

Your breath, once steady, now betrayed your internal turmoil. It hitched as your cheeks burned, a telltale sign of the heightened sensations coursing through your body. The discomfort between your legs became an increasingly insistent presence, pussy throbbing demanding attention.

Mingyu, sitting casually beside you, seemed to emit an allure that was impossible to ignore. His features, accentuated by the soft glow of the TV, drew your attention like a moth to a flame.

Your body seemed to betray your attempts to remain composed. Mingyu, your trusted friend, had always been someone you found attractive, but in this moment, every detail about him seemed to amplify that allure.

The internal struggle reached its peak, and you couldn't ignore the discomfort any longer. Closing your legs tightly, you attempted to find some relief, the unbidden desire making focus impossible. In a moment of desperation, you closed your eyes, hoping to regain some semblance of control.

Mingyu, sensing something amiss, took a deep breath and voiced his concern. "Are you really okay?" he asked, genuine worry etched on his face.

Opening your eyes, you knew that you looked far from composed, also known as, absolutely fucked. The internal chaos was surely mirrored in your expression. Mingyu, in his caring nature, reached a hand towards your forehead, then gently slid it down to your neck, checking for signs of fever or any indication of what might be troubling you.

As his hand moved across your skin, he could feel the heat emanating from your body, but the cause remained uncertain. The brief journey from your forehead to your neck sent shivers down your spine, and he noticed your body's involuntary response.

Meeting your gaze with a look of defeat, Mingyu asked, "What am I going to do with you?" The vulnerability of the moment was palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the unexpected turn the night had taken. Mingyu, torn between concern for your well-being and the confusing dynamics of the situation, faced a dilemma that neither of you had anticipated. The unspoken tension lingered, leaving both of you suspended in a moment that seemed to redefine the boundaries of your friendship.

You found a temporary reprieve by supporting your elbow on your knees, your face cradled in your hands, desperately trying to manage the sensations coursing through your body. Mingyu, sensing your distress, gently asked, "Do you need any help?" His hand rested on your knee, the touch seemingly innocent, lacking any intentional undertones.

Lifting your torso, you looked at him with an expression that conveyed both suffering and confusion. "How?" you managed to utter, the desperation evident in your voice.

He pondered for a moment, sincerity coloring his words. "I honestly don't know," Mingyu admitted, his eyes searching for a solution to the unforeseen dilemma.

Closing your eyes tightly, you breathed loudly, attempting to steady yourself. In a moment of impulsivity, you grabbed his wrist, your eyes still shut, and began guiding his hand higher and higher. 

Mingyu's eyes widened, his attempts to maintain composure faltering. "You're not in the right mind right now," he warned, trying to inject a note of reason into the situation.

You, however, remained persistent, continuing to guide his hand higher with a suffered expression. Mingyu felt a mixture of confusion and a growing awareness that the dynamics of the moment were shifting. He struggled to compose himself, realizing that the unexpected turn of events was challenging not only for you but for him as well.

The charged atmosphere enveloped both of you as you laid your head on Mingyu's shoulder, intertwining your hands together. His touch on your thigh was hesitant, his caress slow and deliberate. Your breath, warm against his neck, sent shivers down his spine.

Mingyu bit his lip, deep in thought as he analyzed the situation. He could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken desires that hung between you two. The grip on your thigh tightened involuntarily as he contemplated the ways to help you, the weight of his own internal struggle evident in the furrow of his brow.

A soft moan escaped your lips, a sound that resonated through both of you. Mingyu, caught off guard by the effect his touch had on you, felt his body respond involuntarily. His grip tightened on your thigh, and a subtle warmth spread through him.

In the midst of the charged atmosphere, you sulked sultrily, your voice a low murmur that made Mingyu's body react. "What are you waiting for?" you whispered, your sultry tone sending a wave of heat through him.

Caught between the tension of the moment and the realization that there was only one effective way to help you, – fuck you until you're fully satisfied – Mingyu hesitated.

"Fuck, Y/N, I don't know," Mingyu uttered, his frustration and arousal intermingling in his voice. The charged tension in the air seemed to escalate as you lifted your face, bringing it dangerously close to his lips. Your noses brushed together, a subtle and tantalizing gesture that sent a shiver down his spine.

"Please Mingyu, please…" Your sultry tone continued to play with his senses, teasing and arousing. Mingyu, caught in the moment, found himself unable to resist the magnetic pull between you two. He managed to steal a glance at your tank top, the falling straps exposing your shoulder and the hardened nipple teasingly visible through the fabric.

In an unexpected twist, the charged atmosphere culminated in a daring move. Mingyu suddenly felt the touch of your lips on his, and his initial surprise transformed into a profound connection. Before fully giving in to the kiss, he took a momentary glance at you, a silent agreement passing between your locked eyes.

As your lips melded together, Mingyu's hand instinctively found its way to your hair, holding it gently. The kiss deepened, his mouth opening to caress your tongue with his in a dance of shared desire. The world around you seemed to fade away as you both melted into each other's arms, the unspoken tension finding its release in the passionate connection that had unexpectedly blossomed between you.

The intensity of the moment heightened as Mingyu's hand ventured inside your tank top, exploring the warmth of your skin, almost burning the skin of his hand. His fingers danced across your belly, tracing the contours of your waist, before finding their way to cup your breast. The touch sent shivers down your spine, and the heat radiating from your skin seemed to intensify under his caress.

Mingyu, his voice a low whisper, remarked on the undeniable heat emanating from your body. "Fuck baby, you're so hot…"

A soft, involuntary moan escaped your lips as Mingyu's touch on your breast elicited a visceral response. You acknowledged his observation with a sultry tone, admitting, "I know," the words laden with desire. The unspoken tension between you two reached a boiling point as you confessed, "I need you so bad Gyu!" 

Mingyu, propelled by a sense of urgency, swiftly guided you to the large couch. Without hesitation, he laid you down, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck. The fervor of the moment heightened as his hands moved with purpose, skillfully pulling down the elastic of your shorts and panties, freeing your lower half in one fluid motion. 

Mingyu wasted no time, his fingers skillfully exploring inside your wet sensitive folds, making squelching sounds reaching your ears, while his thumb worked circles on your clit, making your eyes close – finally a relief for your body – and Mingyu notices that too, making him smile at the way your body was slowly stopping from being tense. 

"Is it helping?" he asked, seeking confirmation.

You nodded, acknowledging the relief his actions had brought, but the sensations left you craving more. "It's good, but I need more," you admitted, the desire for something deeper and more intense evident in your voice.

He teased, recalling your earlier affirmation that it was enough. "Well, you said it was enough," Mingyu remarked, playfully challenging your request for more.

Your plea for increased intensity grew more urgent, and he paused, halting his movements abruptly. The sudden stop made you cry out, the rush of sensations abruptly cut off. "I need more Mingyu-ah!" you begged, your voice filled with longing and a desperate plea for the heightened pleasure you desired.

The atmosphere crackled with a palpable intensity as Mingyu, driven by the escalating desire, hastily removed his shirt, buttons scattering in the living room like a visual manifestation of the urgency in the air. His pants followed suit, tugged down with an eagerness that echoed the building tension between you two.

Just when you anticipated he would hover over you, Mingyu surprised you by getting down instead. From this new vantage point, he looked up at you, your legs spread, his gaze locked onto your aroused form, red cheeks, your pussy glistening, hair gluing on your skin and parted lips. 

Mingyu's words, spoken in a low, husky tone, carried a mix of surprise and desire. "I should've seen this coming, but... You look so wet," he remarked, his gaze shifting from your face to your core. 

Mingyu, his eyes still locked on the intimate revelation before him, couldn't help but voice the question lingering in his mind. "Is it because of the drink?" he asked, a hint of concern and curiosity in his voice.

You met his gaze, a mix of honesty and desire reflected in your eyes. "Yes," you replied, acknowledging the role the mysterious drink had played in heightening the sensations coursing through your body. But then, with a subtle but deliberate emphasis, you added, "But also because of you."

The weight of your admission hung in the air, and Mingyu, his eyebrows furrowing in a mix of disbelief and arousal, sought confirmation. "For real?" he asked, seeking assurance.

In response, you simply nodded. Mingyu, fueled by the shared desire and the realness of the moment, wasted no time. His mouth found your core, and the sudden sensation made you jolt, "Ah! Mingyu s-shit!" a gasp escaping your lips as you called out his name. 

He rolls his tongue around your throbbing and puffy clit, before sucking it between his red swollen lips. Mingyu's hands took hold of your thighs, pulling you closer and causing you to slide along the couch. The sudden movement left you in a state of disbelief, and your hands instinctively flew to cover your face. The realization that your best friend was now intimately between your legs, eating you out, overwhelmed you, and a mixture of shock and pleasure lingered in the air. "Fuck- gonna cum…" Your voice cracked.

The rush of sensations made your thighs involuntarily squeeze around Mingyu's head, a surge of pleasure intermingled with the overwhelming intensity of the moment. He shot you a glance, a mix of amusement and appreciation for the sudden pressure, as he continued to lavish attention on your most sensitive places. Your feet brushed against the skin of his back, the physical contact adding another layer of intimacy.

The warmth of your release against his mouth sent a shiver through Mingyu, the sensation exhilarating. The way you arched your back, screaming, calling out his name, in a tone he'd never heard you call before, made his cock twitch inside of his boxers. Mingyu found himself reveling in the sensation, realizing that this uncharted territory had opened up a new, unexplored dimension in your friendship.

Mingyu, still basking in the aftermath of the shared moment, took a moment to peel off his boxers. His arousal was evident, and the sight of his cock slapping against his abdomen left you watching in awe.

Feeling a surge of desire, you looked at him with a newfound boldness and asked, "Can I ride you?" 

Mingyu's eyes widened in surprise, a smile spreading across his face. He laughed, the sound filled with a mix of amusement and desire, before responding, "Sure, baby."

The air was thick with anticipation as you straddled Mingyu's thighs, his desire evident in the teasing glare he directed at you. Taking control, you began to pump his dick with deliberate movements, a sly smile playing on your lips. 

Guiding him to your entrance, you felt the stretch as he entered you, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. The ease with which he slid into you only intensified the raw pleasure of the moment. Mingyu's moan of approval, a low and satisfied "Hmmm" echoed through the room.

With your hips rolling in a rhythmic dance, you couldn't resist the urge to pull your top up, exposing more of your tits. However, Mingyu, seemingly wanting control, pushed your hands away. His fingers began to flicker over your exposed nipples, a teasing and tantalizing touch that made you mewl in response.

Mingyu's words, a command laden with desire, hung in the air. "Use me as your little toy," he urged. 

The suggestion lingered, and you, caught in the intensity of the moment, questioned if he was truly willing. "Will you let me?" you asked, smiling mischievous while your hips worked harder. 

His response came in a low, throaty moan, filled with both need and consent. "Yes, I'm yours. Use me as much as you want," Mingyu declared.

"Bet." 

As you lowered your body, sinking your hips harder with each motion, Mingyu's grip on your waist tightened. His fingers dug into your skin, leaving the promise of bruises. Mingyu, fueled by the idea of being your little fuck toy, couldn't contain the rush of sensations overwhelming his mind. 

The rhythm of your hips took on a frantic, fast pace, causing Mingyu to question whether his legs could even leave the couch. The intensity of the experience pushed him to the brink, as his cries grew louder, bordering on uncontrollable, he begged you to slow down, fearing he wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. "Shit b-babe slow down!" His plea held a desperate undertone, a warning of what was to come if the pace continued.

In response, you choked him gently with one hand, a firm yet commanding gesture. "Be quiet," you whispered, a note of authority in your tone. The threat of a noise complaint lingered in the air. 

The sensation of your hand wrapped around Mingyu's throat, barely cutting off his air, made him gasp for breath. The delicate balance between pleasure and restriction sent waves of a delicious intensity through him. As you rolled your eyes, feeling your orgasm approaching, the grip on him tightened, and he arched his back, attempting to hold onto his own release.

The climax approached with an overwhelming force as your pussy crushed Mingyu's cock, inducing spasms of pleasure that rippled through his body. Your moans intertwined with the thick tears rolling down your cheeks, a culmination of the release from the tension that had built up throughout the night. The intensity hit like a tidal wave, leaving you feeling momentarily unstable.

Sensing your need for support, Mingyu struggled in pleasure to get up. He reached out to you, holding you close as you rode out the waves of your orgasm, crying out his name.

"Yeah, baby, I know it feels too good, right? I got you," Mingyu murmured, his words a reassuring melody in the aftermath of the intense orgasm. 

Driven by a lingering desire that had occupied your mind since the beginning of the night, – suck Mingyu's cock until you're unconscious – you decided to act on your newfound craving. Eagerly, you untangled yourself from Mingyu's embrace, his stability still offering support as you made your way towards your intended destination.

Your eagerness didn't leave room for hesitation. With a toss of your hair to the side, you seized the opportunity, pushing Mingyu's cock deep into your throat. The sudden, intense action caught him off guard, and his mouth opened wide in surprise, not expecting the eager and daring move you had just made.

The room was filled with a mix of sounds—the wet, rhythmic movements, his gasps of pleasure, and the unspoken understanding that the night had taken yet another unexpected turn. 

A prolonged "Fuuuuck" escaped from Mingyu's lips as you continued to bob your head incessantly, the wet, rhythmic sounds of your slurping echoing through the room. The intensity of your actions caused his cheeks to flush, and the pleasure you were delivering was almost overwhelming. Mingyu, lost in the sensations you were creating, felt himself melting into the couch, completely absorbed in the pleasure of the moment. 

Mingyu's tip pushed against the back of your throat, your lips grazing his pelvis. He held onto the material of the couch, feeling the tension radiate through his entire body. The moment climaxed with the forceful release of his cum, the spurts going down your throat.

"Oh my god Y/N!" As you continued to suck, Mingyu's body flinched in the aftermath of his release. His voice, now thin and breathless, pleaded with you to stop.

"Please, stop," he managed to utter, the intensity of the sensations still coursing through him.

You allowed Mingyu's soft cock to fall gently onto his stomach with a faint pop of your lips. Surveying his body, now laid defeated on the couch, you asked, "You okay?"

He nodded, his hands finally releasing their tight grip on the couch fabric. "Yeah," he affirmed, his breaths still slightly uneven.

Mingyu, his voice tinted with a mix of surprise and realization, whimpered, "You were horny as fuck, weren't you?"

A smile played on your lips as you replied, "Sorry if it was too much."

Exhausted, Mingyu closed his eyes and confessed, grinning "I loved it."

Mingyu, with a tired but content sigh, raised his arm, reaching out to pull you into a comfortable embrace. You settled against his chest, the warmth of his skin radiating through you. The living room was scattered with discarded clothes, a testament to the intensity of the night that had unfolded.

As sleep began to claim both of you, Mingyu's rhythmic breathing served as a calming lullaby. His fingers gently traced patterns through your hair as you drifted into a peaceful slumber on his chest. 

The morning light filtering through the curtains woke you from your slumber, accompanied by the gentle sensation of Mingyu's fingers tracing patterns on your back. As you lifted your head and rubbed your eyes, you realized you probably didn't look your best. Thankful that Mingyu had seen you wake up before, you hid your face in the crook of his neck, seeking a moment's refuge.

With a husky voice, Mingyu spoke up, breaking the quiet morning atmosphere. "I'm definitely buying another bottle of that liquor for us," he declared, the memory of the eventful night prompting a teasing smile.

The shared sentiment about the unforgettable night echoed in his words, encapsulating the adventurous journey you and Mingyu had embarked on. The unspoken understanding and the newfound closeness between you two lingered in the air, marking the beginning of a bond that had evolved beyond the boundaries of mere friendship.

[rosecoloredknight]

I know for sure a girl is "courting" me because she told me that just now!?

I don't know how to respond though? I feel like I'm still conflicted with having feelings for someone else whom I have no shot with — but then again, that's okay because there's nothing wrong with that. I have moved on from wanting her in that way, but now I feel bad because I don't think I can be as present in their life anymore if I'm going to try to see how things go with the other girl now. THIS other girl is being open and honest about being interested in me, which I'm totally surprised by, and it's kinda of intriguing.. I think I should give her a chance?

I see it as her giving me a chance and I believe it would be best if I honor and reciprocate that same effort?

I have to acknowledge my feelings for the other person else was one sided and there never was a "what if" scenario or chance; And that's okay.

I already told the girl interested in me that I plan on moving to WA and she was totally okay with that prospect or idea — !!!!!!!

I need to slowwww down.

Okay, whatever happens, I need to understand that being a reply person should not lead my life. I deserve the chance of creating a family/partner to whom I can feel safe with.

As the sun shines above, there is someone for me to love 🖤

[fragilefable]

nobody's son, nobody's daughter.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Rating: Mature (18+ minors DNI) Summary: When you and Joel get separated the night of the outbreak, you spend the next decade searching for him. Just when you've given up— a miracle occurs. Warnings: heavy angst, canon typical violence, character death (sarah), discussions of grief, very brief mention of suicidal ideation, alcohol used to cope, depression, suggestive language, lovers reunited, hurt/comfort, happy ending.

Word Count: 6.6k Currently Playing: Chemtrails Over the Country Club by Lana Del Rey ♪

A/N: This piece has been months in the making, hours of rereading and rewriting. This is my love child. I'm possibly (definitely) planning a part 2 with smut... ;) I am a full-time college student who unfortunately has other responsibilities, so please be patient with me. My first lengthy piece in a while, so please be kind & enjoy my doves!

Sleep was the most convenient temporary escape available in the post-cordyceps world. Oftentimes, if you were lucky enough, with sleep came dreams—glimpses of a divine, utopian life. One without spores or fungi of any kind. There was, however, always the chance that with it came nightmares—Polaroids of the past, the uprising of the infection. Mothers clutching bloodied children, decaying men ripping open flesh with their savage teeth, and, worst of all— losing Joel Miller. 

Joel was... everything—neighbor, friend, lover. Joel hated that word— laughed every time it managed to escape your lips in a hushed whisper, but that was what you were to each other. It transcended explanation. You'd moved to Austin after college in hopes of starting over, a clean slate. Instead, you'd stumbled upon a single father and his then 11-year-old daughter. You fit into their life like the missing puzzle piece— you completed them. Sarah needed a motherly presence in her life. There was only so much Joel could do for the blossoming young woman. 

And Joel— Joel never knew what he was missing until you came along. Someone to be able to rely on, to love unconditionally, a fixed constant. To say he fell head over heels was an understatement, but it became so much more than physical attraction. It became something far more profound and terrifying— love. The kind of love only poets write about. It was fierce, at times agonizing. That's what made losing him all the more heartbreaking. 

You were with Sarah the night of the outbreak— Joel's birthday. Lounging around in plaid pajamas, waiting for Joel to get home from work. Despite being exhausted, Sarah was beaming with pride over her birthday present for her dad— his broken wristwatch now repaired and refurbished. You smiled mischievously, "And just where did you get the money to fix this, young lady?" Sarah grinned slyly, "Just lyin' around, it's not like he noticed it was missin'!" Hours passed, you and Sarah slumped against the couch: Fast asleep, soft snores escaping mouths, drool dribbling down chins. 

The sight made Joel's heart quaver in his chest. Kicking off his muddied work boots, he carefully plopped down in between the two sleeping figures, planting a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. "Hmm. You're home," you stirred awake, drowsy eyes met with a welcome sight: Weathered tan skin and dark chocolate curls. "Hey, Darlin'. You outta head up to bed. I'll be up soon." You nodded faintly, planting a chaste kiss on Sarah's forehead: "Goodnight, sweet girl." 

You fell fast asleep as soon as your body hit Joel's mattress, his scent engulfing you like a blanket of safety— a shield of sorts. The vague smell of sawdust and pine soap conquered your senses, a heavenly combination. An hour later, you felt the bed dip down, strong arms circling your waist.

Frantic hands shook you awake, calling your name weakly: "I can't find Dad. N' somethin' weird is goin' on outside." You sat up, Sarah's urgency pulling you from your hazy half-asleep state. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll call him. Go back to bed." Sarah ignored your suggestion and sat beside you as you reached for the landline. The call went to voicemail without hesitation: "Huh... That's weird." 

Sarah grew more anxious by the second, "I'm gonna go check the driveway for his truck." Sarah shot up from the bed, feet pattering down the stairs. "Sarah! Wait, I'll come with-" Throwing on your Converse, you hastily ran out after her. Your tired eyes scanned the pavement but found no signs of Sarah or Joel's truck. The Adler's door was wide open; you huffed: "Sarah?" 

The Adler's house was pitch black and eerily quiet, the family's dog nowhere to be seen: "Sarah? This is trespassing!" Tiptoeing through the living room, you halted at the sight of a ruby trail— blood. Grotesque, wet noises filled the previously silent house: "Sarah?" The teen bolted out of the kitchen, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the front door: "Run!" Mrs. Adler scrambled after Sarah, mouth dribbling crimson liquid, no longer bound to her wheelchair. 

"What the fuck–" Sarah's grip on your hand tightened as you passed through the door and stumbled onto the pavement. A pair of familiar brown eyes scanned Sarah's figure and then yours: "Sarah? Darlin'? Are ya'll ok-" Joel's words were cut off when Mrs. Adler dashed through the front door, her figure lunging for you. 

Joel struck the side of her head with a wrench as you made a feeble attempt to crawl away. His strikes were lethal, and yet the elder kept thrashing against the ground. "Joel, stop!" Only then did you notice Tommy, Joel's younger brother, behind you, coaxing Sarah into the truck. 

Joel exhausted Mrs. Adler with one final swing, dropping the bloodied wrench beside him and wiping his shaky hands on his jeans. His gaze softened when he saw your timid frame— shaking and unmoving. "Darlin'... Baby, are you okay?" His hands found your shoulders, rubbing soothing circles on a patch of exposed skin. You hesitated; Joel had just killed Mrs. Adler in cold blood— but she tried to kill you and Sarah first. 

Joel hurriedly hoisted you to your feet, "We gotta go, okay baby? It's not safe here." You clambered into the backseat beside Sarah, the girl's arms thrown around you tightly. Kissing the crown of her head, you reassured her: "It's okay, sweetheart, everything's okay." 

Neighbors began to exit their homes, baffled and disturbed by the sight of Mrs. Adler's bloody, lifeless body lying in the yard. Someone called out for Joel. He immediately instructed her to go back inside and lock the doors. Tommy beckoned Joel into the car, exiting the culdesac and taking off towards the highway. After a fleeting moment, you mustered up the courage to ask, "Joel, what's going on?" Tommy replied, "They're sayin' it's a virus- some kinda parasite." Sarah spoke up, tears forming, "Are we sick?" Joel shot the idea down immediately. 

Tommy and Joel continued bickering, your eyes glued to the road ahead: "Joel! Look- It's Jimmy's place." The two-story farmhouse was completely engulfed in flames, unrecognizable. Your hands clung to Sarah, burrowing her head into your neck: "It's okay, sweet girl." Police sirens rang out through the darkness, interrupted by soft pleas for help. A family was stranded on the side of the road, begging for aid. Tommy began to slow the car. "What're you doin'?" Joel firmly questioned. Tommy shot back, "Got a kid, Joel." 

"So do we. Keep drivin'," Joel spat. Tommy sped back up, eyes searching Joel's for an explanation: "Somebody else will come along." As Tommy approached the interstate, the sounds of disgruntled drivers grew louder: "Fuck! Everybody had the same fuckin' idea. I can't get through this." Joel gripped the dashboard, "All right, all right. Let's think it through," he paused for a moment, "All right, take the field! We cut across, and we pick up on the west side." Tommy steered right, the truck jerking on the uneven terrain. As he drove over the hill, helicopters and tanks came into view, "Shit. Fuckin' army." 

Sarah peered out from behind the seat, "Isn't that good?" Your voice was filled with hesitation, "That's the highway we need to get to." Joel and Tommy argued, eventually continuing toward a town just east of the highway. Sarah stilled, "Maybe it's everywhere. Maybe there's nowhere to go." A booming roar erupted, Tommy twisting his body to get a better look at the night sky: "What the fuck?!" Commercial airplanes flew overhead, merely hundreds of feet above the ground. You instinctively covered Sarah's ears with your hands, eyes wrenching shut at the deafening rumble of their engines. Tommy swerved to avoid a police blockade ahead, turning into a nearby alleyway. 

The streets were flooded with screaming civilians, running in every direction— no one sure who exactly they were running from. A hoard of people fled from inside a movie theater, causing Tommy to shift the truck's gear into reverse. "Dad?" Sarah called out, "Dad!" Joel turned; an airplane was rapidly descending— heading straight towards town, "Shit. Move!" As the plane made contact with the ground, a mushroom cloud of fire and smoke bloomed, causing Tommy to lose control of the truck. 

A strong hand shook your leg, "Darlin'? Stay right there, don't move." Your side ached, cool liquid flowing from your head. Beside you, Sarah quickly came to, her eyes shifting to the figure hunched outside of the flipped car, clawing at the corpse of an older man. "Sarah, baby, don't look. C'mere, put your arms around me." As Joel carefully unearthed Sarah from the mangled truck, you climbed out of the shattered window: Hissing as you shifted against your arm. Sarah tried to put weight on her leg, provoking muffled whimpers and cries at the attempt. Tommy, equipped with his shotgun, called out, "We gotta get off the street!" 

As you approached Joel and Sarah, a flaming police car crashed into the capsized truck, separating the three of you from Tommy. Tommy roared from the other side of the wreck: "Meet at the river! I'll find a way." Joel turned to Sarah, "Can you run?" She shook her head wearily. He scooped her into his arms, "Keep your eyes on me." Joel shifted towards you, "No matter what, you keep runnin'. Alright, darlin'? Promise me." You hesitated, desperate eyes meeting his, "I promise." 

The three of you stumbled through the alley until you came across a cluster of bodies scattered across the pavement, crouched figures grunting over the lifeless figures. The end of the passage was clear. The only problem was getting past the rotted creatures without being noticed. There was no way Joel could outrun them in his condition. One of the creatures shot up at the sound of a remote blast, eyes landing on Joel. His voice was firm, "Go." You grabbed his arm, "Joel!" He repeated his command, louder— frantic: "You can't carry Sarah w'that arm. Go find Tommy. We'll meet you there."  

You pressed a hurried kiss to Sarah's head, the deranged man scrambling to his feet before you could embrace Joel. You took off towards the other end of the alley, Joel and Sarah barricading themselves inside the vacant diner across from the pile of carcasses. Your body throbbed with every step, head burning with the fire of a thousand suns. Your feet carried you across town, weaving in and out of injured civilians and infected until you reached the river. The stream was pitch black, sounds of gunfire and cries rang out in the distance. 

Suddenly, a bright light blinded you: "Put your hands where I can see 'em!" You obeyed, raising them as high as your injured arm would allow. Your voice raw with distress, "M'not sick! Just trying to find my family!" The man stepped closer, seemingly inspecting your physical state. He was clad in military gear, "You hurt?" You shook your head eagerly: "Just a sprained arm." He nodded his head, "Alright. We've got buses that can take you to a decontamination zone." 

Your head scanned the vast field, eyes scouring for any sign of Joel or Tommy: "I- I can't. I'm supposed to meet someone here. At the river." The soldier looked dissatisfied and slowly lifted his gun, "The river goes on for miles. S'not safe out here." Your eyebrows threaded together in confusion, "What- are you- are you gonna shoot me?" The soldier's grasp on his automatic rifle tightened, "I'm sayin' you have two choices. You can either come with me or you can-" 

A guttural scream sounded from behind him. But before he could turn around, a pair of arms seized his neck and began ripping into his military garb. The soldier flailed wildly at his attacker. While he was busy fighting off the deranged beast, you took off into the darkness, wandering aimlessly and calling out for your family. That night was the last time you saw Joel Miller.

16 Years Later

The bitter winter air overwhelmed your senses until you were gasping for air, limbs numb and cold to the touch. You wouldn't make it much longer without shelter, without warmth. You'd spent the better part of the last 16 years searching for him— for Joel. Ever since that night, you'd scoured every independent civilization, every QZ, within mobs of infected. Each night, you silently prayed never to find him like that— skin pallid and overcome with fungus, head split wide open, cordyceps blooming from within. 

You'd trekked across the country with the sole intent of finding him alive and healthy. The journey was brutal— raiders and infected desperate for blood. But by far, the hardest battle was pushing away the nagging thought that, even if Joel and Sarah were somehow alive, you'd never find them. Now, after nearly two decades of searching, you were reaching the end of your journey. You'd officially trekked across the entire nation. If your estimations were correct, you were nearing Wyoming— hence the formidable cold front. 

You'd heard rumors about a small civilization located somewhere on the skirts of Jackson County— your last stop. You knew the chances were slim; that feeling only fortified with each city, each civilian who hadn't heard of or seen anyone by the name of "Joel Miller." But you kept searching— because the day that you stopped would be the day you lost everything, lost yourself. It was as though he held onto you with a leash. If you tugged hard enough, could you finally break free? What else did you have to live for? Maybe one day you'd have some sort of epiphany, something to make sense of all the death and suffering. For now, Joel kept your hope alive— the hope that there was happiness and safety beyond all of the pain. The very thought of him kept you alive. 

You stood in front of thick and rusted iron gates, your posture crooked due to exhaustion— Just one more stop. The sounds of cocking guns drew your attention to the top of the gates. A young man and woman stand there, rifles pointed at you: "Drop your weapon! Let us see your hands!" You obey. This is standard practice amongst civilizations— you'd done it a thousand times by now. Unsheathing and kicking away your pistol, you then throw your backpack towards the gate. Hands raised next to your head. Your voice wavers as you half-shout, "I'm not infected! Just looking for someone!" 

The woman searched your face for a bit, presumably looking for any signs of deceit. She nodded towards her companion, the corroded metal walls unfolding. Two men approached you and picked up your discarded belongings. The younger of the two roughly patted you down and checked for bite marks. When they were satisfied, they led you past the gates into the town square. The village was pleasant, a handful of people milling about in the slushy streets. 

A familiar voice erupts from behind you: "Please excuse the initial hostility. We need to be careful about who we let in... I'm Maria." She extends her hand. You accept it gingerly and introduce yourself. "Welcome to Jackson. You must be freezing. Come on, we'll talk inside." — Maria leads you inside a small building, the exterior reminding you of the Lincoln Logs you used to play with as a child. The inside is... quaint. A lone desk sits near the lit fireplace. Maria leans against the desk and motions for you to take a seat: "So... You're lookin' for someone. And you have reason to believe they're here?" 

You sigh, allowing your aching body to relax against the couch's plush cushions: "No... I am looking for someone, but... Well, this is my last stop." Maria nods sympathetically, tucking a lone braid behind her ear— "I get it. You've been looking for a long time. It's about time to stop. To rest." You can't help the tears that form on your waterline. Your gaze shifts to your lap. Maria continues, "Who are you lookin' for?" 

You swallow the fist-sized lump in your throat, "Joel. Joel Miller." Your attention snaps towards her as a wistful sigh escapes her lips. A tight frown dawns on Maria's face, "I'm sorry. There's no Joel Miller here." You nod; you knew it was a long shot, but hearing it aloud was something different entirely. You rise from the couch, "Thank you. I apologize for takin' up your time." Maria speaks up before you can reach the door: "Now what? You got a place to stay?" 

You honestly hadn't thought that far, about life beyond looking. For years, finding Joel was your only purpose— your rationale for remaining on this infested hellscape. You had no home, no roots. Maria's voice interrupts your thoughts, "There's room here. We've got food and water— shelter. Hell, we're even working on electricity." You turn to face her. Her words dripping with verity, "Jackson could be your home." 

Despite having just met her, Maria's words touched something buried deep within you— hope. Hopeful of a new life, of new beginnings. You forged a small smile, "Okay." Maria smiled, but it was much different from yours: It was toothy, genuine— "Alright. I'll give you the grand tour then." For the next hour or so, Maria marched you around town. She showed you the vast dining hall laden with maple furniture. The stables filled with mare and their young. 

Then she showed you the schoolhouse. It was a small brick building. The walls were filled with colorful crayon drawings. Tiny handprints were pressed onto the wall in various colors of acrylic paint. The dulcet sounds of innocent laughter erupted from every corner of the room. Children from the ages of 5-12 were scattered around: Some doing arts and crafts, some reading, and others playing with worn toys. A tear slipped down your cheek. You brushed it away quickly before Maria could notice. 

You couldn't help but think of Sarah. About the first time she knocked on your door— she was selling chocolate bars for some fundraiser at school. Her bronze complexion dappled with freckles, and her wide smile revealed a missing tooth. She was eleven at the time, eyes bright and full of wonder. Blind to the atrocities that loomed at every turn. Sometimes, you'd think about what she looked like now— did her curls still rest atop her shoulders? Did she still laugh until she was panting for air? She's thirty now... Has she fallen in love? That was considering she is still... 

You didn't entertain the thought. Sarah was fine, alive somewhere with her father to look after her. Maria's touch pulls you from your thoughts, "How about I show you where you'll be living? Get you settled in." As Maria exited the schoolhouse, you stole one last glance at the room. A little girl met your gaze. Her dark curls were pulled into two ponytails. Her burnt mahogany eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled, raising her tiny hand and waving it at you. You returned the sentiment, this time allowing the tear to fall down and onto the ground.  

Maria escorted you just outside of town, to a street lined with country-style two-story houses in relatively good condition. "This one here, the green one. It's already furnished. I'll have one of my guys come by later with some essentials from the pantry. Otherwise, you should be all set 'til tomorrow." Your eyes bore into the house. It was nice, but also... "It's big," you retort, "Don't know what I could possibly need all those rooms for." Maria lays the silver key in your hand, "You never know." 

You internally cringe at the connotation. Start over with some man? Have a big family and a white picket fence? You couldn't. It wouldn't be the same. You let out a shaky breath, "Thank you, Maria." She nods, "Come see me tomorrow, and we'll talk about where to go from here. Everyone in Jackson has a job, a role to play. Rest up... You deserve it." She departs, leaving just you and your great, big, empty house. 

3 Years Later

Jackson developed rapidly under Maria's supervision. The population rose from 50 to roughly 300 in just under three years. Jackson now had electricity, thanks to the Jackson County Hydroelectric Dam that Maria's team was able to get up and running. You'd become the head of patrol— in charge of organizing the schedules and determining the routes. You and Maria had become very close, practically family. She's the person who understood you, what you've been through. 

In an attempt to busy yourself and earn your keep, you'd thrown yourself into working alongside her. Not just with patrols but also with community relations and development. You'd completely reconstructed the greenhouse, built a jailhouse— that, luckily, wasn't used much— and helped fortify Jackson's defenses. Maria assigned you the title "community leader," but you much preferred what everyone else called you: "Maria's right hand." 

Your house was still too big, but now it felt homier— lived in. The walls were plastered with botanical paintings you'd found while out on patrol, vases of fresh cut flowers from the community garden placed upon every surface. Cable knit blankets were draped over the shabby leather furniture, the brick fireplace emanating warmth and bringing solace during the cold winter months. You'd even taken up baking in your spare time, frequently bringing baked goods to the schoolhouse. 

Nevertheless, when the sun set and the sounds of bustling downtown Jackson faded, your thoughts always returned to Joel. His bronze skin, tousled brown curls, and perfectly plump lips. Suddenly, it felt as though the house was mocking you, and the right side of the bed always grew colder. Perhaps it's why you worked yourself so hard; taking a day off was seldom. You couldn't escape the persistent feeling that Joel and Sarah weren't alive. That you'd failed to find them time and time again because somewhere, they were six feet under, buried in an unmarked grave. All it takes is one moment— one lapse between heartbeats— and suddenly, everything has changed.

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

The spring air was crisp with morning dew. A gentle breeze slipped through the cracked bay window. Three heavy thuds woke you— the sharp knocks cutting through serene silence. Your voice was raspy with sleep, "Coming!" You quickly pulled on the worn terrycloth robe that hung from the bedpost and stumbled downstairs. You swung the door open to reveal Stanley, a young man who worked in construction: "I'm so sorry to wake you, but Maria sent me to get you. She said it's urgent."  

You sighed deeply, rubbing the remaining exhaustion from your face: "Urgent like, 'don't get dressed' urgent?" Stanley's eyes roamed across the dark fabric of your robe before snapping back to your face. His cheeks bright pink, "Oh, um... no! Just meet her in her office ASAP." Sending him off with a nod, you traipsed upstairs and threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before making your way downtown. It was early morning, the streets empty save the early risers milling about, getting ready for work. As you passed a group of older women sipping hot beverages, you overheard whispers of "an outsider." As Maria's righthand, you were expected to greet all incoming arrivals. How on earth that could constitute a crisis, you did not know. 

As you approached Maria's office, the woman in question exited swiftly, shutting the door behind her. You grew closer, taking note of her fidgeting hands. She was... nervous? "Good morning, Mar. What's the emergency?" Maria's face was sullen. You'd never seen her like this, not in the three years you'd known her. Your hands clenched at your sides, "Maria? What is it?"

She took a deep breath, "This may be a false alarm, but... This guy's last name is Miller. Says he's originally from Texas." Her words stole the air from your lungs, a pit forming in the bottom of your stomach. She said something else, but all you could hear was buzzing. Your vision blurred, the dark-skinned woman's features coming in and out of focus. Could it be him—had Joel finally found you? 

Maria called your name, pulling you from your trance. As your vision focused, you pushed past her. Your grip on the doorknob was bone-crushing, your knuckles turning white from the tension. You inhaled— don't get your hopes up. It might not be him. You exhaled, pushing the door open with a startling amount of force. You analyzed the man's figure, you recognized him— only it wasn't Joel. It wasn't the Miller whose calloused hands once traveled the expanse of your body, making note of each hidden crevice as though it may hold treasure. Whose lips once seared white hot kisses in the places he knew were the most sensitive— "Tommy?"

He looked dumbstruck, his lips parted in shock. Before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around his neck. It took him a moment to reciprocate your embrace, but once he did, his arms anchored you in place. He spoke your name quietly against the crown of your head: "I can't... I can't believe it." You pulled away, "I hardly can either." His hands rested atop your shoulders as his eyes searched your face in disbelief. His resemblance to his older brother felt like a gut punch. You were afraid to ask— fearful of the truth: "Joel? Is he..."

Tommy's hand squeezed your shoulder in reassurance, "He's alive. Last I checked, holed up somewhere in the Boston QZ." A warm tear slipped down your face, the salty liquid resting just below your chin. You'd checked Boston QZ, but recent "terrorist" attacks had made it impossible to stay longer than an hour without drawing the attention of every FEDRA soldier in that godforsaken city. Your hands trembled as you clutched your chest, "And Sarah? How's my sweet girl?" 

Tommy's face went cold— No. No. She can't— "She's gone." The taste of bile rose in your throat, "Wh-when?" Tommy removed his hands from your shoulders, "That night. Shot by some military fucker. She..." He hesitated, "Joel held her. It happened s'fast." Your kneels buckled, threatening to send you towards the ground. You fucked up— you let yourself get accustomed to the idea of her being alive. Repeated it over and over again until you believed it to be true. This was all your fault. 

Your shoulders shook silently, as if you were crying— but no tears emerged, "I have to… I have to find Joel." Turning toward the door, Tommy caught you by your wrist: "I can't let you do that, hon. It's a damn death sentence." You tugged at your arm, desperate to break free from the restraint: "Let go of me, Tommy. I'm doin' this." Maria stepped forward, her hand resting at the base of your neck— "No, you're not. Jackson needs you here. I need you here."

Your breathing became labored. Deep down, you knew they were right— you were in no shape to travel across the country again. You'd barely survived it the first time. Chest heaving, your free hand found purchase on your throat, tightly grasping and constricting the airway. Tommy wearily let go of your wrist, his eyes wide and filled with fear. You ran for the door; you could hear Tommy call out for you as you fled homeward. Sarah was gone. Joel was alone.

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

Days passed, and despite everything, the sun rose in the morning and the moon at night. You weren't quite sure how long it had been. You'd stopped counting daybreak after the first five came and went. Maria checked in after the first couple of days, worried that you hadn't been seen around town— or leaving your house, for that matter. Your grief was debilitating, all-consuming. You couldn't eat, could barely sleep, only finding relief at the bottom of a liquor bottle. You were tired… The kind of tired that sleep didn't fix.

Tommy came once. Sat and talked while you stared straight ahead at the empty wall. He could sense your anger, your resentment. How could he not? You silently judged him for leaving Joel, leaving his brother after his only daughter died in his arms. Tommy told you that Joel had changed. He wasn't the Joel you fell in love with; he'd done terrible things— But so had you. You'd killed innocent people, people who were just trying to protect themselves. And you did it in the name of finding Joel and Sarah, of surviving for them. You'd convinced yourself it was kill or be killed, and you had to live with that. Come judgment day, you'd pay greatly for your sins. You accepted that, too.

You only dared to look at Tommy's face once. You saw Joel in his eyes— you saw Sarah. Maybe if you hadn't left Joel in that alleyway, she'd still be alive. You could've protected her, taken the bullet for her. You would have, without hesitation. You'd cross the fiery pits of hell for her, reside in Caina, and be tortured for eternity. You may not have given birth to her, but Sarah was your daughter.

If you closed your eyes hard enough, you could faintly picture her smile. The dimples that formed just below her bottom lip. You could smell the faint aroma of her strawberry shampoo. Hear the broken remnants of her grandiose laughter. You swore to keep those memories someplace safe. Take them out and remember when you needed to, as if they were photographs.

A part of you wanted to be happy that she didn't suffer. She was too innocent for this new, heartless world. She was everything good in life. She was sunshine, sugary syrup, and pure, unadulterated love. But you could not accept this bright side. Not when it meant a life without her in it. Innocence is beautiful, but life is for living.

Tommy stood up, slipping a piece of paper on the nightstand. You cautiously turned it over to reveal a creased photo: You, Joel, and Sarah posing after winning one of her soccer games. You stole one last glance at Tommy. This time, he did not see blinding hatred in your gaze. Instead, he saw gratitude. As your glassy eyes bore into him, he nodded knowingly and left.

Maria came a couple of hours later with leftovers from the dining hall. Setting them on the counter next to the empty whiskey bottles displayed like pathetic trophies. You were in the same position as when Tommy left. You held the photo in your hands, thumbs stroking its frayed edges. Maria quietly dragged a chair closer to the bed, sitting just within arm's reach: "I went to a really dark place after I lost Kevin."

Tearing your gaze from the picture, one of her hands finds yours: "He made life worth living… It took me a long time to start to feel human again. To feel something other than pain and sorrow. The grief never goes away. But slowly, it starts to feel less like loss, and more like love." She inhaled shakily, "I know what you're feeling right now. I know why you're drowning your sorrows in that shit, trying to drink yourself to death." A tear slips down your face, her hand squeezing yours gently: "But you have to understand… What you're feeling right now, that's love. You're not a bad person for how you try to kill your sadness. But it's not gonna work."

You're unable to contain the choked sob that escapes your throat. The tears come harshly, scorching saline against your skin. Maria shifts her weight from the chair onto the bed, holding your shaking frame: "It's okay… Let it out." Her hands cradle your head, smoothing over your disheveled hair. "It's all my fault," you gasp between sobs, "I never should've left them. It's all my fault." Maria shushes you, "No, honey. You don't really believe that. You want someone to blame, but you're not that person."

Eventually, the tears cease. Your breathing evened out as Maria held you, "I miss Joel, so fucking much." You could feel Maria nod tenderly, "I know Honey." A lone tear slipped down your cheek, "Do you think— do you think he'll find me?" Maria pulled away, her chestnut eyes meeting yours, "Truthfully, I don't know." With a deep sigh, she squeezed your hand— "But I know he wouldn't want you to live like this. Isolating yourself from everyone else. You're allowed to grieve, but please don't shut me out. You're my person." You clutch her hands, squeezing firmly: "Even at my worst?" Her arms curled around your torso once again, "Even at your worst."

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ────────────── · ·

The warmer seasons passed with haste. A wintertide blanket of white gradually covered Jackson. Day by day, Maria and Tommy were able to pull you out of your depressive stupor. You had to admit, they made quite the team. Maria was ultimately right, Joel wouldn't want you to spend the rest of your life a bedridden drunkard. But still, life without him was arduous. There wasn't a day that passed that you didn't think of Joel Miller. About where he was, what he was doing, who he was with, and whether he missed you as terribly as you did him. 

As much as you wished to focus on these melancholic thoughts, new developments began to bloom in Jackson. Tommy and Maria's blossoming love was hard to ignore and impossible to disapprove of. Watching two people whom you adored fall in love, it felt as though nothing had changed: No cordyceps, no raiders, just Jackson and all of its inhabitants. Perhaps you could find peace in that. When Maria told you that they were expecting, you were over the moon. Maria and Tommy deserved it, Jackson deserved it. Proof that the world is not over— that no matter the circumstances, mankind will prevail. 

You threw together a small wedding ceremony with the help of the florist and local bakery, the couple wanting to tie the knot before the baby's arrival. Joking about how "shotgun weddings" withstood the test of time. Something arose in you, a pang of jealousy— Envious that you and Joel never got the perfect white wedding. It disgusted you, so you buried it deep within the recesses of your heart. 

The winter was hard, the Wyoming chill threatening every crop that dared to sprout from the Earth. This resulted in you spending extra time in the greenhouse. You found gardening to be a rather soothing task, being able to nurture new life in a world marked by death and decay. It also provided plenty of time to think: Something that you did not relish. No matter how many times you pushed the thought of Joel away, it always returned. Whether it was at dawn or late at night plaguing your dreams. 

When you weren't at Tommy and Maria's house or at the Tipsy Bison, you were in the greenhouse. The small shack sat right on the outskirts of town, situated with the perfect view of downtown Jackson. The glass panes shut out the cold, trapping any warmth inside. You bathed in the basking glow of the sun, gravitating towards it as a Sunflower would. You weren't sure when thoughts of Sarah became joyous, memories no longer met with choked cries but instead with soft chuckles. Nonetheless, you welcomed the growth. It's how she would want you to remember her. 

You watched the clock that hung just above the door, a mere estimation of the time: 12:15 p.m. You carefully removed your dirt-caked gloves, setting them on the wooden bench beside you. Your stomach growled impatiently as you began the journey downtown. The air was frigid despite the sun's rays, the cold slowly numbing your fingers. As you ambled towards town, Stanley came jogging towards you: "Hey! Just got word from the gates that Maria's back. Brought some stragglers, two, I think." 

You nodded in his direction, "Alright. Thanks, Stan." The soft crunch of snow beneath your feet accompanied you as you approached downtown Jackson, an air of excitement and uncertainty radiating off of the townsfolk. It wasn't every day that Jackson came across people who weren't just blood-thirsty raiders looking for valuables. As you rounded a corner, you overheard a commotion, the sound of yelling. Strangely, it didn't sound angry or fearful. It sounded... happy. 

Midtown came into view; the construction that was being worked on was now abandoned. Immediately, your gaze fixed on two figures in the middle of the street embracing. That was... not typical. You could make one man out to be Tommy; his black curls contrasted starkly against his warm taupe skin. The other was taller and broader, his hair disheveled and graying. Behind them you could make out Maria on horseback, next to her was a young girl, who couldn't be older than thirteen. 

Maria's expression was borderline unreadable, a mixture of trepidation and relief. Until her eyes met yours, then her face softened. A look of tenderness emerged. Everything about this situation puzzled you— Until the two figures broke apart. The man stood inches from Tommy, his hands gripping Tommy's shoulders firmly. His face was sunken with exhaustion and hunger; a vast smile overtook his face. A smile you would recognize anywhere. 

He looked just as he had twenty years ago, only now his hair was significantly longer and his beard gray. His face was now littered with wrinkles, just as yours was. A telltale sign that time had, in fact, passed, that the world fell apart right in front of your eyes. Your fingers dug into your thigh. You surely would've drawn blood if not for the layer of denim protecting your skin. You knew you were grieving, but hallucinations seemed extreme. You took a hesitant step forward, still on the opposite end of the street. 

Maria beckoned for you. Your name seemingly catching Tommy's attention as he turned towards you. As the men stood side-by-side, it was impossible to deny. Their likeness evoked something in you— realization. You weren't dreaming, you weren't hallucinating. He was there, just a yard away: Joel Miller. His gaze found yours, eyes searching your face in disbelief. Your name left his mouth like a question, but it sounded like a prayer. 

He stepped forward as if he was testing the waters. You repeated his action, "Joel?" A smile broke across his face once again, causing you to break into a sprint. He jogged forward, careful not to slip on the icy gravel. Tears began streaming down your face, their warmth countering the icy chill. Before you could slow down, your body collided with his. His arms were tense, his hold fastening around you. You'd only dreamt of this moment for two decades. 

You weren't sure how long you stood like that. Head nestled firmly against his chest, tears staining his leather coat. His gloved fingers gently grasped your chin, pulling your face from its sanctuary: "Baby... Fuck, I can't believe it." His eyes searched your face for any sign of unease. He could find nothing but pure joy: "You found me. I searched for you, Joel Miller, for 16 years. And you found me." 

Joel let out a breathy chuckle, cut off as you captured his lips in a velvety kiss. At first, it was chaste.— A silent admission of consolation, twenty years in the making. You ran your tongue across his bottom lip, prompting him to groan as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. After a moment, a loud cough erupted from behind you. You reluctantly pull away, your forehead resting against his. Your hands cupped his cheeks, eyes glassy with relief and adoration: "After all this time?" Joel leans forward to place a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth, "Would wait forever f'you, Darlin'." 

© 2023 fragilefable do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing to any other site.

divider by @saradika

[pearlywritings]

A guide to motivate the General

synopsis: just a couple of messages and maybe a call from his loved ones is all Jing Yuan needs to find it in himself to finish his work and go home.

pairing: Jing Yuan x fem!reader

tw: fluff, domestic fluff, dad!Jing Yuan, Mimi being a huge spoiled baby

word count: 2.1k+ words

A loud yawn echoes in an empty space of The Seat of the Divine Foresight. The general squints, but immediately shakes his head - as much as he’d love to take a nap, there are still some urgent cases he has to attend to. It’s so quiet and lifeless with everyone being dismissed. Oh, what he would’ve given to be far far from here… 

He knows, however, that dwelling on such a matter is just a waste of his resources. Instead of feeling jealous of the guards and secretaries he let go home three hours ago, he opts to redirect the remnants of his energy to the last pile of papers he’s already halfway through.

But just as he reaches for another document his phone vibrates, screen lighting up momentarily, but even a second-long glance is enough to see who the message is from.

And he can’t make his wife wait, can he?

As he carefully puts the ink brush down the device makes a sound a couple of more times, indicating that there are three messages already. Quickly typing eight numbers of his passcode - two most important dates of his life - Jing Yuan swipes away all the spam that has gathered there this evening. His thumb lightly taps on the messenger and goes right to the chat with you, tired golden eyes gaining a bit of their usual shine.

Good evening, my love. I suppose you weren’t lying when you said you’d be quite busy. Didn’t want to disturb you before, but I hope Yanqing wasn’t covering you up, telling me that you ‘dutifully ate’ the dinner I asked him to bring you earlier.

Jing Yuan chuckles. Ah, isn’t it wonderful to have a loving doting spouse who cares so much for her husband. Of course he took a break and ate his dinner - how could he ever deny your home-cooked meals? It would be a crime against your marriage.

Ignoring for a moment your two next messages, the man starts typing an answer.

Good evening, beloved. Yes, I’ll be here for another hour it seems. But I am planning to return home tonight, don’t worry. Yes, the dinner was delicious, thank you. And you know that boy knows better than to lie to you.

Though he, personally, finds your infuriated face adorable, not scary. Sending the message, he skips to the next ones.

Look who’s been waiting for your return

And the video attached. Not thinking too long, he presses play.

He is quick to recognize your shared bedroom and from the angle you were filming you were clearly in bed. He can see the double doors of the entrance, some of the furniture and fine tapestries decorating the walls. But the main focus is obviously the big lion pacing back and forth in the space between the bed and the doors, occasionally stopping, glancing at the wooden obstacle, huffing and continuing its pacing. Then he hears you sweet melodic giggle and his heart melts and then immediately bursts when your voice enters the recording.

“She’s been like that for the last half an hour. She clearly misses papa.”

At the word ‘papa’ Mimi swiftly stops and looks at you and then at the door. Her tail slowly moves.

“No, Mimi, sorry, but papa isn’t home yet. Though I am sure he will soon.”

She seems to understand you, because another huff of dissatisfaction passes through her nose and she butts her head against the left door.

“Jing Yuan, you better hurry, before she figures out how to open the door and go bother ‘her cub’. I barely managed to separate the two.”

As the video stops, the general can’t help but snort, mouth covered with his palm. Eyes glance to the side, to the photo frame sitting snugly on his table - of him, you, held against his side with one arm, and a little girl perched comfortably in the crook of his other one. The smiles the three of you presenting are joyful and he can recall why - the day was brilliant, after all.

Not given an opportunity to wonder however, his attention is brought back by another vibration - looks like you still have something to say.

True, but it never hurts to make sure.

Want me to wait for you?

Oh, he’d love for you to be awake and welcome his exhausted body into your embrace, but at the same time he wants you to have a night of good sleep before tomorrow. Even so…he can allow himself to indulge just a little bit, right?

Warmth swirls in his chest when you pick his video call.

“Hi, pretty,” a lazy smile tugs on the corners of his lips when he sees your cozy form - hair let down, a pillow tucked behind your back and two thin straps of the chemise resting on your beautiful shoulders.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” he sees your eyes taking into his own visage, noting his tired gaze, messy hair and a palm supporting his chin. “Are you calling me to answer my question?”

“Yes and no. Just wanted to see you before you go to sleep,” and that is enough of a response to you.

“How sweet of you, Yuan,” there is a guttural noise in the background and he sees your eyes dart behind the phone. “Ah, looks like Mimi heard your voice. She started running around the room. Searching for you, Mister,” even though there is a hint of reproach in your voice, the general knows you are simply joking. 

“My apologies. It seems I made all my girls wait. Speaking of my girls, how is-”

Suddenly you gasp and your body seems to jump and for a moment the phone tilts backwards and Jing Yuan has to stare at the ceiling.

“My dear? Everything is okay?”

“What-? Ah, yes, yes, it- Mimi, stop! Ouch, your paw is heavy!”

The ceiling is clearer now - you must’ve put the device down in an attempt to (what he can only guess) fight off the lion that jumped onto your bed, finally figuring out where the voice was coming from. Loud grunts and your noises of discontent with occasional complaints are the only things he can hear for a couple of minutes. Reasoning that it’s better if he stays silent for the time being, Jing Yuan sets the phone against the photo frame and returns to the paper he was about to review.

It’s almost three documents later - wow, a quick peak of his loved one is doing wonders to his worsened productivity - when the commotion settles down and you pick your phone back, heavily exhaling with an annoyed look on your face. Jing Yuan decides to simply turn to you, hand still skipping through the papers.

“I swear, this overgrown cat is the biggest baby I’ve ever dealt with. Here, look, papa is here,” and you practically shove the device into the animal’s muzzle. Big nose sniffs around, and, not finding the familiar scent of her caretaker, the lion gives you a side eye, which makes your husband choke on his laughter. The maned head whips to the left, keen hearing obviously picking a well-known voice.

“Who taught her that jumping onto the bed is okay?” You are in his sight again, fingers running through your hair, now no different from his own messy locks. “Right - you. I couldn’t get her off and barely managed to put this bulk down. You better pray she decides to leave on her own accord, or you are sleeping on the floor tonight.”

Yes, your annoyed expressions are truly marvelous. How he wished to be there with you and shower your puffy cheeks with dozens of kisses, cradling your face in his big warm palms. It would be so lovely.

“I’ll just go and sleep with my angel then. I am sure she won’t be against having dada by her side.”

He hears Mimi yawn loudly and you make an ‘oof’ sound, promptly lifting the phone.

“Everything is alright?”

“Yeah… She just dropped her head onto my lap. And is staring at me, quite offended.”

“Oooh, now you are stuck,” he can't help but smirk, relishing the roll of your eyes. He knows better than anyone how heavy his pet is. Even he feels a strain in his back whenever he picks her up. Or maybe he is just getting old.

“Wow, thanks, General Obviousness. Mimi, your papa is so-”

Abruptly you are interrupted again, but this time by a quiet, almost inaudible sound of the doors opening. He sees your body lean forward and by a warning “Mimi, stay” he knows you are pinning the animal down. Which can mean only one thing…

“Mom?” A sweet sleepy voice of his daughter proves his assumption right. Suddenly, hearing just one word from her, the man wants to abandon what little work he has left and rush home to envelope the little wonder into his arms, hear her giggle and call him “dad” or “dada” or “papa” - he'd take anything, really, as long as it’s from his little one.

“What is it, baby? Having trouble sleeping?” Oh, but your voice is so beautifully tender, he wants to have it directly caress his ears, while he is cuddled into your body, your fingers running through his thick hair. Aeons, he is losing focus.

“I heard Mimi running,” the little voice gets closer and Jing Yuan sees how your shoulder tenses - the arm is undoubtedly wrapped around the lion’s body. “I thought that daddy came home… has he not yet?”

Now, he really wants to get home as soon as possible.

“No, sweety. But guess what? I am talking to him right now. Want to say hi?”

As you are leaning back, your husband reaches for the phone, holding it properly in his hands, heart skipping a beat in anticipation, waiting for the girl to climb onto the bed and settle at your side.

Stars above, she is a carbon copy of him. Fluffy hair, tucked behind her ears not to obscure the vision, keeping the pretty liquid gold eyes on display, a beauty mark under her eye is charming, just as a lovely smile, stretching mouth when she finally catches the glimpse of her father.

“Papa hiii!” Her little hands wave happily at him, a toothy grin even wider than before. Pure excitement written all over her drowsy expression is adorable, so cute in fact, that Jing Yuan fists the shirt on his chest in a silent cry of his heart.

“Hi, my little sparrow,” he speaks softly, gazing at her with so much love, while his mind is screaming with joy. “I am going to be home very soon. But I want you, and mama, and Mimi all to go to sleep.”

“But whyyy,” she whines, pouting. He also hears the lion grunt, as if understanding what he is saying, and you just shake your head with a small chuckle.

“Because papa wants you to be well-rested. He promised us a walk tomorrow, right?” Your hand goes to rest on top of her head, patting. “It’ll be too bad if we are sleepy, don't you think?”

“Mama is right. I know you miss me, baby, and I miss you terribly too. But if we want to spend the whole day together, doing everything you, princess, want, I have to complete some of my cases. That's why I am going to say my good night’s and get back to work to finish it.”

The white-haired girl sighs, dropping her head, letting the heavy fringe escape and cover her eyes.

“Being an adult is awful,” he hears her murmur a complaint and can’t help but agree. Though, if he wasn’t an adult, would’ve he ever had you and her? “But I get it, daddy. I am a big girl!”

“That’s my girl,” he gives her an encouraging smile, when she lifts her eyes again to look at him from under the bangs. His smile is almost immediately mirrored.

“So…” Jing Yuan catches your gaze (you have been watching this whole exchange with a fond look in your eyes) and shares unspoken affection. “Good night, my love.”

“Have you soon in my arms, dear,” you blow a kiss and he makes a grabby motion with his hand, bringing it to his very heart.

“Baby,” the girl perks, wiggling in her place and tucking her hair away when his attention is focused on her once more, “sweet dreams. I promise to stop by and kiss you on the cheek.”

“I'll be waiting- I mean sleeping! Have fun with work, daddy.”

“I will. Rub Mimi’s tummy for me, will you?”

“Mhm!”

Giving the two of you one last glance before hanging up, Jing Yuan is filled with the new found motivation. At that moment he thinks that busying himself for the full duration of the day is absolutely worth it, if he gets to give his girls undivided attention tomorrow.

And he will be damned if he lets something ruin it.

[lasirenatarot]

What you need to hear right now.

/general messages, timeless/

🌟PAC READING🌟

Pick a perfume:

NOTE: some messages are quite specific, but might help someone who needs to hear them❤️ so keep that in mind, not everything will resonate for all, it is a general reading after all.

Pile 1:

Poison girl.

Cards that fell; 3 of pentacles, ace of pentacles, 4 of wands reversed. Gift, pleasure seekers cards from an oracle deck.

- I think you might loose a sum of money or you recently have lost some, another case may be that your financial situation might have not been the best recently and you kind of felt helpless? (Idk why im getting that). However, your financial situation has a huge potential for improvement as you may get a present (either an item or a sum of money from someone) which may ease your financial worries. This present may even help you enjoy your life more as you will not have the « weight » of worrying about the near future and how you’re gonna make ends meet.

- Another possible scenario instead of getting a gift may be getting a higher salary than anticipated which can help you make up for the recent times of struggle.

- be focused on whatever you are working on ( studies, job, sports etc.. ) DO NOT loose your focus, this may make you miss a big opportunity if you are not consistent. AND the opposite: if you continue on working, being consistent and putting in the effort you may receive better things/opportunities than you have even imagined. It all depends on you.

- for those who have recently met or have started having hopes of starting a relationship with a romantic interest: this person may not have the intetions of being in a serious relationship with you at this point of time. Be careful and seek your OWN best interest, not theirs.

Pile 2:

Baccarat rouge.

Cards: 10wands, 8wands, 5 wands reversed, judgement reversed.

- Sadly for this pile we are starting a bit negatively; you may have recently experienced a burnout or you are quite overworked due to having too much different stuff to do and take care of. What you need to know at this moment is that not everything is your responsibility: people’s actions, their poor life choices or how they live their life. You might be a person who (not exactly likes, but more of feels the need to help others at the expense of your own mental well being/emotions/mood even. You may simply just be used of being the “problem solver” & emotional trashbin for others) likes helping others, always be there for them and listen when they have struggles, but what you may not see is that by always being there for others u may create in them what I’ve read psychologists call “learned incompetence”. Basically by doing a task for someone (that was not yours to begin with) and letting them vent nonstop u’ve made them incompetent to deal with their own issues bc they may think you will always be there to fix it for them. Main message for this pile; prioritise yourself even if this means cutting ppl off because they drain you emotionally, not every person deserves explanation for how you decide to react to their behavior. Don’t be part of confrontations.

Extra message: beware of people who try to play “saints” in your life, such who have victim complex and always have a problem with everyone.

Everyone gets what they deserve in the end.

- After a tough emotional period your situation may quickly turn to positive and joyful. You may meet new friends.

Good luck🙏🏻

Pile 3:

Lost cherry.

- Very soon you might receive news you’ve been waiting for a long time. May be in a form of email/letter or a friend telling you. You may have felt like you’ve “lost yourself” a bit recently and after receiving these news you will definitely feel more at peace. Some may have been thru a breakup recently, you may finally start feeling better and more like yourself.

- you may meet a potential love interest soon or if you already have someone concrete in mind you communicate with (don’t be delulu having random crushes) you may actually begin a romantic relationship with them ( the energy I get is quite positive).

- you may need to follow “tradition” or already tried methods or consulting with a wise person if you need help with someting. (Or simply a tip)

Pile 4:

Hypnotic poison.

- You may reunite with an old friend soon. (Im particularly getting one you may know from school, but may not applicable for all)

- You may end or will end soon a chapter of your life in order to make space for better things to come.

- You may find understanding/help from someone you have not expected, while at the same time be dissapointed of someone you had trust in and expected to be there for you.

- No matter the circumstances try not to be too cocky and egoistical. You may currently be very motivated for success and have recently gained a lot of confidence due to something in your life. Keep yourself grounded and do not forget where you come from.

That was all from today’s PAC. I apologise for not including the name of the cards which fell for all the piles but I accidentally put them back in the deck and forgot to write them lol..Hope you enjoyed it tho!!

Photos are from pinterest; all credits to their respective owners.

Leave a comment/feedback if it resonated, share and follow for more.

- La Sirena💋

[luffington]

guess ♡

✧.* art credit!

➤ summary: You bought a new set of lingerie as a welcome home present for Ace and he likes it a little too much. (18+)

➤ pairing: portgas d. ace x afab!reader

➤ word count: 2.4k

➤ warnings: panty kink, oral (f receiving), rimming, spanking, established relationship, fluff

➤ notes: i can't believe i haven't posted a fic about my number one babygirl on here yet :0 inspired by "guess" by charli xcx!! <3

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

It had been three weeks since you last saw Ace, which was practically an eternity. Being a pirate meant living a life of uncertainty and knowing every day could be your last – especially for someone as reckless as your boyfriend. You obviously loved the rest of the Whitebeard Pirates, but Ace was such a ray of sunshine that you felt like something crucial was missing without him. 

However, that only made it better when he returned to the Moby Dick – the longer he was gone, the more attention he gave you. And you were going to make the most of it.

The moment he saw you, he scooped you up in his strong arms, lifted you off the ground and pulled you into a nearly suffocating hug. You returned it with just as much fervor and held him as tightly as possible. Loving the feeling of his fiery body against yours for the first time in so long. 

“I missed you,” he murmured happily, pressing soft kisses into the crook of your neck. Not caring that you were in the center of the ship and surrounded by your crewmates waiting their turn to congratulate him on a successful mission. It didn’t matter – everyone was more than accustomed to Ace’s obsession with PDA. When his hands shifted their hold on your legs, he suddenly realized how tiny your skirt was. “Whoa, showing a lot of skin, huh?”

“It’s hot out,” you pouted prettily. “And you’re not wearing a shirt at all.”

“Fair enough!” Your boyfriend laughed lightheartedly. He grabbed the meat of your thighs appreciatively before setting you down to talk to other people. 

The ship was approaching a summer island, but the heat was a flimsy excuse for your incredibly revealing outfit – a low-cut tank top to emphasize your cleavage and a miniskirt which barely covered your ass. You had gotten a new set of lingerie as a welcome home present for Ace. Pretty pale pink with intricate lace accents but practically sheer everywhere else, leaving nothing to the imagination. Adorned with cute white bows on your hips and on the middle of your bra. It fit you perfectly, hugging your body just right and accentuating all of your curves and dips. 

As soon as the excitement around Ace’s return had died down, the two of you snuck off to the kitchen so Ace could raid the fridge. You were finally alone – perfect chance to begin your mischievous scheme. Ace told you a funny story from his time away while you poked at a small plate of food. Then you ‘accidentally’ dropped your fork, squealing in surprise and bending over to pick it up. Ace only meant to glance at you for a moment but his jaw dropped. 

Your skirt had ridden up and your two holes were almost completely visible, spread slightly apart from your position. You took your sweet time fumbling around for the fork – which was an inch away – and grinned when you felt Ace’s eyes burn holes into the back of you. Your boyfriend was nearly salivating, using every ounce of his (very limited) self-control to resist holding you down in that position and slamming his cock inside. 

“Got it!” You giggled coyly, standing up and facing a man ready to pounce on you like a feral creature. 

But your teasing didn’t end there. Throughout the day, you bent over and jutted your chest out several times, giving him a perfect view of your tits. You hoped he noticed that your bra and panties were a matching set. But if that wasn’t obvious enough, you stretched your arms above your head and let your tank top slide up to reveal your bra’s underwire and a hint of sheer fabric. Ace got quieter as time went on, his glances at you becoming longer and more predatory. You actually started to fear for your poor pussy and how wrecked it would be by the end of the night. 

Ace was a possessive man by nature. Once he had something precious, something he was afraid to lose, he latched onto it and devoted his life to it. You were hesitant to put yourself in the same category as Whitebeard and Luffy, since you’d only been dating for a few months, but he was undeniably very attached to you. Constantly desperate for your touch and praise and affection. 

You knew you had awoken a beast. Dangled a piece of meat in front of a hungry animal – and in front of your crew, no less.

When the sun began to set, you sat cross-legged on the main deck, laughing and casually drinking with your crewmates. You leaned over Ace's lap to grab another drink and intentionally placed your hips in his lap. He was literally seconds away from pushing those goddamn panties to the side and shoving his fingers deep in your cunt, not caring how many people were around. You looked back at him and blinked innocently. 

That was his final straw. You knew what you were doing.

“I, uh, have to get something from my room,” Ace mumbled, manhandling you to stand up with him and placing you down on shaky feet. He gave you a dangerous look. “You need to come, too.”

“What are you getting?” Marco chuckled, amused by Ace’s terrible attempt to be discreet. 

“Huh?” Ace looked comically confused, having already forgotten what he just said. “Oh, it’s my… um… the, uh…” He huffed in defeat and grabbed your hand firmly. “Whatever, let’s just go.” Your friends threw their heads back and cackled.

If Ace were a patient man, you could have made the most of his present and really put on a show for him. You would’ve slowly removed your clothes, moving your body sensually back and forth, revealing your skin inch by inch. Only giving him short glimpses of your lingerie and building up to the big reveal. 

‘Ace’ and ‘patient’ did not belong in the same sentence.

“You little brat!” Ace growled playfully as he slammed the door behind him. He pushed you onto your shared bed with a giant grin on his face. “Been teasing me all fucking day with those panties. Is this what you wanted?”

“Close. I’m still wearing way too many clothes for what I had in mind.” You said with a cheeky smile. Ace looked ravenous, like he wanted to devour you, as he crawled across the bed and hovered above your body. 

“I really fucking missed you.” Ace groaned in a raspy voice. Despite the arousal rapidly pooling in your core, you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered — that was at least the tenth time he’d said that today. 

Plush lips crashed against yours. Ace was objectively a good kisser, but his eagerness often overrode his experience, trying to claim your mouth immediately as if there was a clock ticking above his head. This kiss was extra sloppy, your boyfriend desperately trying to make up for those three long weeks by licking at your mouth and shoving his tongue down your throat. You moaned against his lips and eagerly reciprocated everything he gave you. 

You pulled off his hat and threw it on his nightstand so you could run your fingers through his greasy hair and hold him close. Your other hand brushed over his freckled shoulders then wrapped around his back, covering the lower half of his Whitebeard tattoo. When he broke the kiss, a line of spit connected your mouths. 

He sat back and practically ripped off your skirt. Well, there goes your striptease. “Take off your top. It’s a matching set, right? Wanna see the full effect.” He licked his lips hungrily as you followed his orders, and he practically drooled like a puppy when you were left in nothing but your carefully chosen lingerie. His dark, lust-blown eyes roamed over your body, filled with raw carnal desire. “Fuuuuck. Maybe I should go away more often.”

“Don’t you dare.” You pouted, even though you knew it was impossible to keep him away from you.

Ace grabbed your tits harshly, squeezing them and rolling them in his large hands, rubbing your nipples through the sheer fabric. You whined his name and reached underneath you to undo your bra’s clasp so you could feel his touch on your bare skin. He immediately slapped your hands away.

“Leave it on.” His eyes were hooded, his breathing heavy. “You got all dolled up for me. Let me appreciate it.”

Apparently, ‘appreciate’ meant littering your chest with bites and bruises, sinking his teeth into your soft skin and making you cry out before soothing the bite with his messy tongue. His desire to consume you and make you his own rivaled the intensity of the all-consuming fire that flew from his fists. He moved further down, nipping at your tummy and rubbing your hips. Right when he was about to reach your panties, he flipped you onto your stomach, knocking the air out of your lungs. 

“Ace, slow do–” You yelped when he smacked your ass, loving how your squishy flesh jiggled. You tried to look back at him but he pushed your head flush against the mattress.

“Sorry, babe, can’t help myself. It’s been too fucking long since I ate this sweet little cunt.” He slapped your butt again with a smug grin. “Ass in the air, darling.” 

You pushed yourself onto your knees, arching your back prettily. He let out a low whistle of appreciation at the sight of your pussy and asshole barely concealed by your panties. Bunched the fabric in his hand and pulled it upwards until your lower lips wrapped around it in a cameltoe. The wedgie forced a constant pressure on your clit. Without warning, Ace smacked your pussy hard.  Delighting in the way you cried out and shifted your hips, desperately seeking more friction from the panties wedged inside your cunt. 

“What a slut,” he chuckled in satisfaction then spanked your pussy again twice. The indecent sound echoed around the bedroom and caused more slick to flow out of you. Ace finally released his grip on your panties and fixed them back into their original position. Then he flattened his tongue against your crotch and licked a long stripe from the tip of your clit, along your dripping cunt, up to your asshole and finished at the top of your crack. You whimpered desperately, craving that hot, wet muscle on your skin instead. 

He held your hips firmly in place and went back in to repeat the same motion. Licking you through your panties like a man starved, flicking his tongue against your covered hole and slurping at the wet spot consistently growing. 

“Ace, fu-uck, feels so good…” Your chest heaved. “Need more, need you.” 

“Good thing I’m right here,” he chuckled, pausing to suckle at your nub. “I think about your pussy all the fucking time when I’m alone. How warm and tight you are, how well you take my cock. How pretty it looks with my cum dripping out of it.” He paused to spread your asscheeks, smirking at the way your holes stretched. “Makes it taste so much better when I come home.”

He pinched your abused clit, making you jump. Then he tensed his tongue and forced it into your pussy through the fabric – a strange yet oddly enjoyable sensation. Ace’s rough fingers dug into your ass and thighs to pull you impossibly closer to him, rubbing your cunt on his face. His thumb pulled your panties to the side to only expose your asshole, then licked your puckered hole with broad swipes of his tongue. 

“Mhmm, Ace!” You squealed, already losing the ability to think. 

“Missed this hole, too. Can’t forget about her.” The wet muscle circled your rim before dipping in. He swirled the tip of it inside you messily, moaning in satisfaction. Ace worshiped your pussy, but he was such a whore for anal. He could eat your ass for hours on end – on several occasions, you actually had to push his head away from you to snap him out of a trance. But not wanting to neglect your cunt, he ran two fingers up and down your clothed slit.

“Are you really gonna make me cum through my panties?” You pouted. “I wanna feel your tongue on me.”

“We’ve got all night, pretty thing,” he replied with a smug grin, but his own need to taste your juices fresh from the source overcame him. He grabbed the waistband of your undies between his teeth and carefully pulled them down the curve of your ass to reveal your pretty cunt. Normally, he would’ve torn through your underwear without a second thought, but he was sure he’d go crazy if he never saw you in those panties again.  

Ace literally whined when he finally tasted your bare pussy, flicking his tongue wildly inside you. He could drown in your cunt and die a happy man. He palmed his cock through his shorts, knowing that his own underwear was definitely stained with precum. 

“Fuck, ‘m so close…” You panted. “Ace, I can’t – Ace…”

His name sounded so delicious spilling from your lips and made his dick grow impossibly harder. “Anytime you’re ready, darling.” 

You practically screamed when your high hit you, clenching the bedsheets for dear life. Ace never took his mouth off of you once, happily sucking up every drop of slick that poured out of you. As soon as your orgasm finished washing over you, your body went limp and your hips collapsed to the bed. Seconds later, Ace’s entire body flopped on top of you, his warm chest pressed flush against your back. He grabbed your chin, turned your head to the side and kissed you deeply, his mouth and chin covered in your juices. 

“I’m still mad at you for teasing me, y’know,” he mumbled between soft kisses on your cheek and forehead. “Gonna have to punish you for that.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t snap sooner,” you giggled, intertwining his fingers with your own. “I expected you to jump me the minute you got on board, no matter what panties I was wearing.”

Ace hummed in thought. “Maybe I kinda wanted to be teased.” It sounded like a revelation, like he had never considered his own actions. He had such a one-track mind that it was completely believable. “Well, it wouldn’t be much of a punishment, anyways. I have three weeks worth of cum built up for you and you’re getting it no matter what.” He grinned excitedly. “Hope you’re ready.”

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Love & Liabilities: Chapter 5 (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Summary: While you prided yourself on your ability to always put your work above everything else, what happens when you find yourself haunted by a ghost from the past? (A ghost who brings baked goods, waters plants, and enjoys reminding you of what you’ve been missing)

Word Count: 4.4k

Warning: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage! Mommy Kink, degradation kink, light choking, dirty talk, blow job, strap-on sex

A/N: Lawyer!Agatha is back! Finally returning to this fic and planning on updating as regularly as my schedule will allow. If you'd like to be added to my tag-list, feel free to let me know! (if you changed your handle or aren't on here but were previously please lemme know and I'll add you back) Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy- would love to hear what you think!

Tag-List: @chiar4anna @harknessshi @neverfindmegone @ris-ris-mind @tr333sus @sabstance-blog

Previous Chapter

Present Day

If there was one thing you had learned from practicing law, it was that the world was filled with misconceptions. For many, misconceptions were nothing more than what the word suggests; small errors. However, as a prosecutor you found yourself unable to revel in that life of luxury. 

In your line of work, a misconception could result in something as trivial as having difficulty filling a jury due to anyone with a beating heart finding an excuse to be sent home. Or to the more extreme case of a criminal being able to walk with no consequences.

However, occasionally the opposite would occur, where the details of a case become so warped and misconstrued that someone innocent is found to be guilty. 

But, you weren’t supposed to worry if a defendant was innocent when your entire job revolved around proving why they were guilty. 

That’s what made the past few days so confusing. 

You had looked over the files Agatha accidentally left behind, and found they held more questions than answers. As crazy as it sounded, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was an accident, as any normal person would never compromise such sensitive details to their opponent. 

But then again, most people weren’t Agatha Harkness. 

To your knowledge, one set of the hospital records, Wanda Maximoff’s records, were previously sealed, and you didn’t want to imagine what the attorney had done to acquire them. 

You did wonder if perhaps this was some sort of trap that Agatha was hoping you’d fall into in order to incriminate you, because if there was one thing your former lover prided herself on it was always being ten steps ahead of her opponent before obliterating them in court. 

But that was surely just your paranoia talking.

A few days after Agatha’s impromptu break in you finally finished combing over every last possible piece of information you could gather from the hospital records. The two patients, one of them being Wanda Maximoff, had been involved in a car wreck. Wanda had been eight months pregnant at the time. 

The second patient, Victor Shade, died shortly after being rushed into emergency surgery.

You had scanned and searched the records for more information, perhaps on Wanda’s pregnancy, or even the severity of her injuries. But, and you were nearly certain this wasn’t a coincidence, the majority of the pages were missing.

It didn’t take you long to guess who most likely had a perfectly manicured hand in that.

Agatha Harkness was single-handedly the most pompous, deceitful, domineering individual you had ever encountered, but she was also the most intentional. Every movement she made was calculated, and you knew she had these papers for a reason.

You weren’t Agatha, nor would you wish that particular curse on your worst enemy, but you knew her better than anyone. Or at least you did, for a time. 

Closing your eyes as you rested at your desk, you briefly recollected how intimately acquainted you once were, before remembering how much had changed in the time since.

As you opened your eyes, they landed on the files and a small voice in the back of your head suggested you try calling Agatha. Just to give them back to her. 

You did already get all the useful information that was available, you reasoned. Knowing Agatha, she’d likely question why you had waited so long, but you already had an excuse for that.

You were fairly busy after all, and your paralegal was on vacation, so your normally clear desk now had a mountain-sized pile of papers that made your head spin if you stared at it for too long. If Agatha complained you’d just lie and say they had gotten lost until you sorted through everything.

Besides, you thought bitterly, Agatha lied to you plenty, about things of far greater importance than this. 

Checking the time on your phone, you wondered if nine pm on a Friday night was too late for a phone call, but Agatha had always been nocturnal, often working until the early hours of the morning. You used to find her passed out, slumped over her desk in the home office of the apartment you shared, and you’d drag her back to bed.

Your cheeks grew hot at the reminder of how you’d convinced her to follow you.

Clearing those thoughts from your mind you scrolled through your contact list until you landed on her name. There were a handful of times over the years where you considered deleting it, or blocking her number. But there was this unyielding force within you, prohibiting you from ever following through with it.

Knowing Agatha you wouldn’t be surprised if she somehow cursed you.

Your stomach did sickening flip flops as your index finger trembled, hovering over her name. This is ridiculous, you reasoned, finally pressing down, turning on the speaker setting as you set your phone on the edge of your desk. 

Unfortunately, instead of a familiar ringing noise, you were alarmed to hear an automated message, telling you that the number had been disconnected, before the line went dead.

She changed her number?

Your heart sank as you stared at the bright glow of your phone screen, the contact seeming to mock you. Letting out an agitated sigh, you snatched the device, holding it in your palm. Your hands were unsteady, and you hesitated for a moment, eyes locked on her name. The purple heart that accompanied it had been your idea, her signature color. It felt fitting at the time.

Without another thought, you swiped your finger to the right, permanently deleting the contact before shutting your phone off and tossing it in your bag, leaving your office without another thought. 

She changed her number.

You’d like to say you spent your weekend with your work laptop and phone shut off, enjoying your two days away from the office. But that would be a bold faced lie. You wouldn’t call yourself a workaholic, on the contrary your hours weren’t nearly as intense as when you were still in corporate law. 

Billable hours were a gift from the devil herself, truly.

You weren’t a workaholic, but you were a perfectionist. It was a matter of pride to be detail oriented, to be willing to go the extra mile and find the smallest flaw in a case. It’s what drew you over to the litigation side of things to begin with. Contracts, as thrilling as they could be, didn’t provide the rush of adrenaline being in court granted you.

It was ironic, you swore up and down this side of law could never interest you, but now you couldn’t imagine practicing anything else.

Well, you could, at times, as brief flashes of conversations with the one person you’d felt safe enough to share them with replayed in your brain. But that was a dream you’d given up on a long time ago, among other things.

As it turned out, time could change a lot.

When Monday morning came rolling around, you repeatedly hit snooze on your alarm, not quite feeling rested from your weekend. You took your time for once, even making yourself breakfast. With your paralegal still on vacation you realized how dependent you had become on her for the smallest of things, meals included. 

You should really talk about getting her a raise.

Despite your leisurely start to your morning, you were still out the door before most of the city was awake. You loved the chaos of Manhattan, the crowds of people and thralls of traffic were a warm contrast to the environment you had grown up in. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy a morning commute that took under a half hour, as your Lyft zoomed through the relatively light traffic for a Monday morning. 

Since you worked all weekend your email inbox was manageable, and you marked a few messages to reply to later that morning. You were thankful for the lighter workload, as it allowed you to solely concentrate on your case. 

The ticking time bomb of the one month continuance wasn’t something you wanted to worry about just yet. 

Strolling into your building, you were unsurprised to find you were the first person to arrive for the morning. Walking past some of the potted plants near your office door, you frowned, stopping in front of them and examining tiny droplets of water on the leaves.

Did someone water them recently?

Maybe one of the janitorial staff did it, you concluded, shaking the thought from your mind as you fumbled around for your keys. Pulling them out from your pocket, you went to unlock the door, but were alarmed to find the door was already unlocked.

You didn’t have to open the door fully to know she was there, but you did anyway. 

Swinging the door open, you found Agatha already in your office. Only this time she was sitting at your desk, her feet perched up on the edge, her shiny black loafers reflected by the light. She was engrossed in reading something, her thick black rimmed glasses hanging low on her nose. 

“What the fuck are you doing here,” you hissed, slamming the door shut behind you. 

Agatha didn’t look up from whatever she was reading, but you watched her lip curl upwards, forming a cruel smirk. “Good morning to you too, dear. Muffin?”

It was then you noticed the box of baked goods on the edge of your desk. The sweet aroma of pumpkin and chocolate wafted through the room, they were always your favorite. 

No. You knew what she was doing. 

“I already ate, thanks,” you coolly replied, dropping your work bag near the door, before locking it. “You can’t keep breaking into my office. Do you have any idea what my colleagues would say if they saw you coming and going?”

Agatha hummed, dramatically flipping the page, and you felt a wave of anger rush through you. 

“That sounds more like your problem than mine,” Agatha unhelpfully pointed out, finally setting her papers down to look up at you, and removing her glasses. “Although to be fair, it’s almost insulting how easy it is to get in here. You should really talk to someone about investing in more advanced security measures.”

“What are you doing here?” You questioned, folding your arms across your chest. 

“Are you not happy to see me?” Agatha asked, fake pouting as she put her arms behind her head, the bottom of her dress shirt riding up, exposing her toned stomach. 

Agatha gave you a sly grin, and you quickly averted your eyes. She was unbelievable, really. 

You don’t know what you ever saw in her.

Clearing your throat, you took a deep breath. 

“What are you doing here, Agatha?”

“I was just in the neighborhood,” Agatha explained, kicking her feet off your desk, standing up. She pulled what she was reading up from a stack of papers, waving it in front of you. “You had something of mine.”

The file she had left behind. 

You fell quiet, and Agatha took the opportunity to approach you, tilting her head to the side. 

“What a naughty girl, keeping something that doesn’t belong to you.”

Ignoring the embarrassing rush of heat that threatened to pool between your thighs, you glowered at her. 

“Save it, Agatha. You left those here and I had no way of getting in touch with you,” you spat out, quickly losing whatever patience you had attempted to hold onto. “Who the hell changes their number nowadays?”

You froze, and Agatha’s eyes widened for a brief moment, before taking a step closer to you, stroking her chin with her thumb. 

“I should feel flattered you saved my number all these years later,” Agatha teased, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You tensed at her change of tone, her words having too strong of an impact on you. 

“Is everything a joke to you?” 

Agatha paused, thinking over your words, a calculated grin forming as her blue eyes gleamed. “No, actually. The spousal support I owe my ex wife, for example? Not funny at all, although I’m sure she gets quite the kick out of it.”

You found it rather unsurprising that Agatha managed to marry someone even more deranged than she was, but the difference being you actually liked the ex wife more than the attorney in question.

You’d probably have gone mad as well if you had ended up marrying her.

“You have your papers, get the hell out of my office,” you ordered, not in the mood to continue arguing with her.

Frowning, Agatha set the file on your desk, coming closer to you as she brushed a few strands of hair behind your ear before leaning in, breath hot against your skin.

“Do you really want me to leave? If I recall, you used to enjoy our little games.”

Closing your eyes, you tried to ignore the pleasurable sensation of her voice echoing in your ear, as you rubbed your thighs together, wishing she didn’t cause this strong of a reaction anytime she spoke to you. 

“I want nothing to do with you,” you reminded her, stifling a gasp as the attorney blew in your ear.

“Are you sure?” Agatha mocked, her fingers playfully tugging on your blazer. “You’re so stressed, not that I blame you. Imminent doom tends to leave one feeling tightly wound.”

“I hate you,” you breathed out, but your words held no weight as you didn’t move away from her touch.

“Yes, good,” Agatha cooed, pushing you backwards until your back hit the desk, towering over you. “More of that.”

This needed to stop, you knew it needed to stop. Each time you let her back in it did more harm than good. She was parasitic, infecting you with the need to be consumed by her and her alone.

“Agatha,” you protested, shifting your weight around, unintentional brushing against her pelvis, and your eyes widened, shooting her an incredulous look. “You didn’t.”

Agatha feigned innocence, pressing her hips flush against yours, and you moaned at the direct contact, feeling the strap she was packing under her pants. “I didn't do what, dear?”

Your body betrayed you as you craved more friction, and Agatha leered, situating her hands on your hips to help you grind against her. Each roll of your hips made you lose whatever sense of self control you were barely grasping onto. The reminders of why this was dangerous territory slipping away as Agatha’s grip on your hip tightened.

The attorney raised one of her hands to roughly grasp your chin, forcing you to look up at her.

Gasping, you closed your eyes, not wanting to look at her. “You seriously put that thing on to come over here?”

“Bold of you to assume I wore this for you,” Agatha murmured in your ear and your eyes shot open, glowering at her.

Your taste in women was truly questionable.

“I hate you,” you said, choking back a whine as Agatha’s lips latched onto your neck, nipping and sucking on your exposed skin.

“I know you do,” Agatha said mockingly, the hand she had on your hip, moving to the front of your dress slacks, skillfully unbuttoning them. “That’s why I can smell you, isn’t it?”

“You’re insufferable,” you groaned, wriggling out of your pants as they fell around your knees, letting out a pathetic whine as Agatha ran two fingers over your underwear. 

“Soaking through your panties like a whore,” Agatha growled, moving the thin fabric aside to touch your aching cunt, feeling how soaked you were. “Is all of this for me?”

“Fuck,” you moaned, head falling back as you gave in to her once more. “Agatha, please.”

Agatha moved her fingers through your slick, finding your clit with ease as she rubbed, kissing the sensitive spot under your jaw. “Please what?”

Bucking your hips up you tried to indicate what you needed, and Agatha seemed to take the hint, teasing your entrance and you let out a guttural moan, trying to fuck yourself on her fingers. 

Letting out a disapproving hum, Agatha removed her fingers, smirking when you cried out in disappointment. She raised her hand, her fingers dripping as they circled your mouth as you parted your lips.

“Suck,” Agatha whispered, forcing you to take her fingers in your mouth. “Show mommy that you deserve her cock.” 

Your cunt clenched at that, the ache becoming more unbearable every second you were left empty. Greedily taking her fingers you sucked them clean, whining at the taste of yourself on your tongue. Agatha let out a low groan as she forced them deeper down your throat, fucking your mouth.

“Such a good slut,” Agatha praised pulling her fingers out, lightly slapping your cheek. “So obedient when your mouth is full. You just want something to suck on, don’t you honey?”

Breathless, you barely recognized the sound of the whimper that escaped your lips. Agatha released you from her grasp, moving to settle into your high-backed leather office chair, index finger curling in a come hither motion, beckoning you to join her. 

“On your knees,” Agatha ordered, removing her slacks to reveal her strap-on.

The dark purple cock was thick, and bigger than what you had grown accustomed to taking in the past few years, and you felt your cunt clench at the thought of having it inside you, stretching you out. Mouth watering you dropped to your knees, and Agatha leaned back in the chair, wrapping her hands around your hair to position where she wanted to.

“Desperate fucking whore,” Agatha degraded you, each word making you drip more than the last. “Make mommy come and I’ll consider fucking that greedy pussy.”

Wasting no time you eagerly leaned forward, tongue swiping out to lick at the head of the toy. Patience had never been the attorney’s strong suit, and she tugged on your hair, forcing you to take more of the cock down your throat. 

“Fuck, good girl,” Agatha moaned, eyes locked on your own as she watched you struggle to take so much at once. “So pretty for mommy when you struggle.”

Her words served as encouragement for you to put on a show, forcing yourself to take her to the hilt. Choking around the strap you felt tears begin to swell in your eyes as you breathed through your nose, and Agatha groaned louder than before. 

“That’s it baby. Swallow me,” Agatha hissed, fucking your face as her hips thrusted harder than before, getting off on using you as her own personal sex toy.

Swearing, Agatha’s hips stilled, face contorted in pleasure as she came, eyes rolling to the back of her head, fingers intertwined in your hair as she tugged on the strands to the point where you let out a muffled moan. Panting, the older woman released her grip on your hair, signaling you were allowed to remove your mouth.

Her strap was covered in your saliva as you caught your breath, but Agatha didn’t allow you much time to recover, a feral look in her eyes as she rose from her chair, yanking you up by the hair to face her. The attorney’s blue eyes were clouded with lust as she impatiently spun you around, bending you over your desk.

The humiliation of being exposed this way was too much, and came to the conclusion you could get off like this alone. You didn’t have to look at Agatha to know she was smirking, pulling on your hair again to make you arch your back. 

“Tell me you missed this,” Agatha murmured into your ear, hands groping every inch of your body she could reach. “Tell me, and I’ll give you what you want.”

You were almost too far gone to fully think about the implication of what she was saying, but not enough to give in so easily. 

“You wish,” you threw out, moaning louder at Agatha’s responding slap against your ass. 

“Tell me,” Agatha growled, spanking you again, harder than before, cackling at the way your body reacted to it. “So fucking pathetic, no one else can fuck you like this, can they? ”

You remained silent, trying to restrain yourself from climaxing before you felt her inside you again. Agatha spanked you a third time, the slapping sound echoing throughout your office.

“I’ll give you one more chance,” Agatha threatened, and you could tell she was just as far gone as you. “Tell me you missed this.”

“I…I missed this,” you breathed out, the unsaid words hanging heavy in the room, as both you and Agatha knew what you really meant. What she was really asking.

You missed her. 

Agatha rubbed the tip of the strap up and down your cunt, and you whined. She had been torturing you with the teasing, all you wanted was for her to be inside you.

“Mommy, please,” you said, nearly crying.

Without warning Agatha pushed inside your entrance in one thrust, making you take her to the hilt. You nearly screamed, her strap almost painfully deep and your walls fluttered around it. You were so full, the only thought on your mind was how you wanted her to stay inside you forever.

Giving you a moment to adjust to her size, Agatha tugged on your hair again, kissing your neck as her hips rested flush against yours. After a few moments she began to move, thrusting slow but deep, staying buried in your cunt.

“That’s it baby, squeeze my cock,” Agatha moaned, making you feel every inch of her. “Good fucking girl.”

“Mommy,” you whimpered, listening to the obscene sound of your hips thrusting against each other, the noise filling the office. 

“No one else knows what a slut you are, do they?” Agatha mocked, increasing her pace as she fucked you even harder. “You’re just mommy’s little cocksleeve.”

“Fuck yes,” you moaned, feeling a familiar tightening as your cunt pulsed around the attorney’s cock. 

“Say it,” Agatha grunted out, moving at an erratic pace. “Say you’re mommy’s cocksleeve.”

“I’m mommy’s cocksleeve,” you said obediently, relishing in the deep groan that left Agatha’s lips, the sound causing you to clench.

You were so close, you could feel it.

Agatha could tell you were nearing your peak, as she wrapped an arm around your waist, lithe fingers finding your clit and rubbing in time with her unwavering thrusts. Every second teetering you closer to falling off the edge of pleasure. 

“Do you want something?” Agatha teased, as you were left breathless after a particularly hard thrust.

“Please,” you begged, not caring how desperate you sounded. “Please I need to…”

“You need what, slut?” Agatha jeered, removing her fingers from your clit, bringing her hand to wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly. “What do you want?”

“Mommy, please,” you pleaded, gasping as the attorney choked you, the delicious burn nearly causing you to finish.

“Come for mommy, baby,” Agatha said, voice hoarse as she kept her hand wrapped around your throat. “Soak my cock.”

You felt yourself let go, body rippling in pleasure as you came, sporadically moving your hips to meet Agatha’s thrusts as she helped you through your orgasm. The attorney grunted before her hips stilled against yours with one final deep stroke, staying inside you as you came down from your high.

Removing her hand from your throat, Agatha stroked your cheek, a stark contrast to how roughly she just fucked you. You let out a deep sigh, collapsing against your desk. It was unclear how long she stayed inside you before she pulled out, chuckling at your little whimpers from being left empty.

“I never understood why you enjoyed running so much,” Agatha said suddenly, body still pressed against yours as she left kisses on every inch of bare skin she could find. “I’ve always found this to be a much more…pleasurable form of cardio.”

You laughed, the sound echoing throughout the room as you felt your heart rate begin to go back to normal. “Funny, Agatha. Very funny.”

Peeling herself off of you, the attorney gently turned you around before settling back in your chair, allowing you to rest on her lap. 

“That was…” Agatha trailed off, brushing your damp hair out of your face. 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. Agatha didn’t have to finish her thoughts, you knew what she was implying.

You wish this could be easier, this gravitational pull you had towards one another; that things weren’t so majorly twisted between the two of you that you could invite Agatha to dinner and try again. Or to even just have a conversation that didn’t start with an argument and end with both of you naked. 

But that wasn’t the reality of the situation, which finally came back to you as you finally caught your breath. 

This couldn’t keep happening.

“I have a lot of work to catch up on,” you said suddenly, clearing your throat as you got off the attorney’s lap. “Um, thanks for…”

“For the muffins?” Agatha jested, avoiding your eyes as she stood up, helping you find your clothes. “Your sweet tooth is hard to forget.”

You smiled for a moment, a bittersweet feeling overtaking you as you let her words hit you. 

“Yeah, for the muffins.”

Agatha finished redressing, her brown hair splayed messily over her shoulders as she unsuccessfully attempted to tame it. You grabbed a spare hair tie from a drawer in your desk, and held it up to her. Agatha nodded, turning around, allowing you to gather her hair and pull it back. You swore you heard her sigh as your fingers combed through the tousled locks, but you quickly secured it, taking a step back.

The attorney turned back around, an uncertain expression on her face, eyebrows furrowed, her frown line becoming more prominent as she stared at you, deep blue eyes boring into your own. 

“You read the hospital records,” Agatha stated, in a tone so certain you questioned why she chose to say it at all.

“Of course not,” you lied, but Agatha’s piercing gaze saw right through you as she arched an eyebrow. “Okay, fine. Yes, I did.”

“And?” Agatha prompted, looking expectantly at you.

“And what?” You questioned, motioning to where the file lay abandoned on the opposite side of your desk. “The majority of the pages are missing. There’s nothing useful there.”

Agatha’s eyes shifted, looking to the ground for just a second, and when she looked back up her signature smirk had returned. “Of course, right as always, dear. I’ll see you in court.”

She snatched the file in her hands before leaving your office, slamming the door shut, leaving you alone, and wondering what the hell just happened. A sinking feeling in your gut was suggesting this case was far more complicated than you had been led to believe.

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch. 17

WandaNat x Reader

Word count: 5.1k

Ch. Notes: Angst, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of death, mentions of child abuse, suggestive themes, nudity

Summary: The family has a meeting to discuss the events that happened in Dragos absence. The aftermath of that meeting forever changes the landscape of the business and the family.

An: The final chapter of the series! Oh my god, I honestly can't believe I hunkered down and finished it out 😳. Thanks for being patient with me. I'm sorry if things feel rushed or out of plac, but I hope you guys like the end 💜. Maybe I'll write a smut epilogue but no promises.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

In life there are no certainties. Nothing is exempt from the winds of change; whether it be drastic or subtle. Wants and needs shift as growth and understanding occurs. These changes are often difficult and perplexing for individuals to comprehend. How can one’s life purpose be evaporated in a simple instance? What has the power to make one question everything they thought they knew? The simple answer to these questions can be found in relationships. Nothing has the power to change a person more than other people.

For Wanda, all she had ever wanted was to carry her father’s legacy; to elevate what he created, to become everything that he needed her to be, the head of the family business. She trained her entire life for this, lost her youth for it, missed moments she’d forever regret for it. Taking on her father’s mantle was the driving point of everything she did. However, now, when her dream was closer to reality she was unsure if she could accomplish it.

She hadn’t fell out of love with the business. Her drive to be the best was still there. Everything she sacrificed was a stark reminder of how much she valued the family business. Yet, the decision was harder than it ever had been before. There was finally something in Wanda’s life that was equally important to her.

The relationship she had with you and Natasha evened out the scales tremendously. Seeing her wife stress about her well-being filled her head with guilt. Knowing about the scars that plagued you physically and mentally swayed her farther away from her dream.

As much as Wanda wanted to be in charge, she also wanted what was best for her relationship.

This was all hypothetical in her head. There was a chance that she wouldn't even be considered to fill her father’s shoes. The offer could be extended in your direction. Dragos had mentioned it upon Wanda’s return, how integral you were to the business. Though she didn’t doubt her father’s words, she greatly underestimated just how important you were.

You were truly the glue that held it all together. Your mind was equipped for this line of work. Even when confronted with hard decisions you always made the right choice. There was nothing that escaped your radar, and it had saved the business multiple times. The chances of the business thriving in Dragos absence without you were questionable. If you weren't around Wanda could've lost everything that they worked for.

You gave everything you had to offer; to not only the business but the family itself. All while being selfless. There were no lines that you wouldn't cross for them. Even if it meant putting yourself in danger. The only thing that was prohibiting you from leading was all of your insecurity.

You had never even considered the fact that the business could fall into your hands. Wanda believed that was part of what made you such a good leader. It all came so naturally to you that you hardly even noticed it yourself.

If you were to decide that you wanted to run the business, Wanda could not hold it against you. To Wanda, the sacrifices that you had made were greater than her own. You deserved to have this if you so desired.

A selfish part of the red head wanted you to turn away the offer if it was presented, but the rationale part kept her in check. Wanda was having trouble deciding what she would do herself, so who was she to make such demands?

Wanda already struggled with feeling selfish for dragging Natasha into this mess. Her wife had gotten shot because of her. From the beginning Natasha was here to support her. As things fell apart Natasha’s loyalty never wavered. The spy just wanted her wife to accomplish her dreams.

Be that as it may, Natasha’s personal experience working in dangerous fields her whole life gave her a better sense for these things. There was little that Wanda could do to quell the worry in the Russian as things unraveled. Natasha had seen this story unfold many times across many identities and she was afraid.

This had been Natasha’s life as far back as she could remember and at some point she became numb to it all. That numbness faded when she saw the adverse affect it had on you and Wanda. Natasha cared too much about the two of you to watch idly as this lifestyle consumed you.

Truly walking away from this sounded like a dream to her. Natasha was ready for all of the domestic aspects of life. However, if either one of you wanted this, she could never deny you. She knew when she married Wanda, that this was the younger woman’s dream. This in a sense was her wife’s life work, and she could never deny Wanda the pay off. With you, you were so young that she would understand wanting the opportunity to experience the true magnitude of being in such a powerful position.

It was a conundrum for all of you.

“Are we ready?” Wanda asks as she parks in front of her parent's house.

Natasha lets out a large sigh, “Whatever happens in there, I love you both, no matter the decision."

You give a small smile, but it’s clear that this is weighing heavily on your mind “I love you too.”

“I love you, let’s do this,” Wanda leaves the car first. Her nerves are apparent.

The tension in the air did not dissipate upon entering the home.

Flora greets the three warmly but holds onto you a little longer than the rest. She squeezes you tightly and whispers in your ear, “Thank you.”

You squeeze her back before letting her lead you all to the kitchen.

A large feast spans the entire length of the table. You can make out bits and pieces of the Maximoff's favorites. It smells heavenly and you’re certain it tastes even better, but your nerves stop you from diving in.

Dragos sits at the head of the table picking indifferently at his food. Pietro sits to his right, staring intently at the three of you. Wanda takes a seat across from her brother and you take your place next to her, while Natasha did the same next to you.

Your hand finds it’s way into the spy's needing the help to steady your nerves. For a long movement no one says anything.

“I brought everyone some water to help you with the talking,” Flora sits glasses in front of everyone before standing behind her husband. Her hand rests diligently on his shoulder. The gesture seemingly gives him the boost he needs to start the conversation.

“We have got a lot of things to address. So let's get started. The Kingpin problem has been taken care of. He won't be threatening this family anytime soon and it's all thank to Y/n.”

You shrink as the man mentions your name, “Thank you, Papa.”

“No, thank you Y/n. Without you not only would I have lost my business, but also my life. I owe you my life. I’m so proud of you, moya ditya,” he speaks again.

Wanda shifts in her spot. Her father skipped right over her own contribution while he was away.

“You owe me nothing of such magnitude Papa. You’ve saved my life just the same. I couldn't have done any of the work alone. Having Wanda, Pietro, and Natasha on my side made things easier,” You give everyone their props.

Dragos follows her lead, “Oh yes, thank you all for stepping up when I needed you to. Your efforts will be heavily compensated."

“ The only thing I want is for you to be honest with me. What happened with my mother?” Your eyes look directly into his.

Wanda’s hand finds your thigh to give you some comfort. Natasha squeezes your hand under the table.

“Well I want to know what’s going on between my sister, her wife, and you,” Pietro chimes in.

“Excuse me?” Wanda almost gets up, but you place your hand on top of hers.

“We can discuss that after the both of you tell me why my mother is dead and why I am the last to know.”

Pietro’s face shows a bit of irritation, but Dragos decided to interfere before things get worse between you two.

“The first night you stayed here, when we found about your abusive home, I knew I didn’t want that woman near you again. So, I had some guys steak out your home. They watched for a few days. It took 4 days before she started searching for you.”

You sat through the story bouncing your leg like crazy, but your upper half was still.

Dragos continues, “She didn’t start at the school but once she got there, she began hyper stalking you. Noting your classes, trying to track your way back here, and getting too close to you.”

“We were protecting you,” Pietro defends.

Dragos holds his hand up silencing his son, “ She found her way here one night. Pietro opened the door they had a heated exchange. It caused quite the commotion. Flora and I were awoken by the screaming.”

“Where was I?” You interject.

“Here, but we assumed that maybe you were used to the noise so it didn’t wake you,” Flora adds quickly.

“Your mother put hands on my son, something I was willing to look past. However, when she tried to do the same with my wife, my willingness dwindled swiftly,” Dragos eyes darken similar to the way Wanda’s often would.

“The way she demanded you as if you were nothing more than stolen property, like she was entitled to you. It was clear she only wanted you to have something that she could control Y/n, she deserved what she got,” Pietro speaks passionately.

“Enough,” Dragos speaks calmly with an edge in voice, warning his son yet again.

Your eyes were glossy as they bored into your best friend’s soul. His temper falters under your gaze. He squirms uncomfortably, but refused to look away.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Your tone levels and as quickly as the tears began to form, they disappear.

“We-”

You shook your head, “No, since he has so much to say I want to hear it from him. Why didn’t you tell me Pietro? I trusted you with parts of me that I didn’t share with anyone else. You knew that even after the years passed, I still had emotions lingering surrounding my mother. I talked with you so many times and you comforted me, you held me as I cried. Yet the whole time you knew she was dead and said nothing. Why?”

The sorrow in your eyes was replaced by a flame of anger. Your jaw clenches thinking of the many opportunities he had to come clean, but never did. The feeling of betrayal crept into your veins the longer it was silent.

“Answer me,” your hand slams on the table startling everyone.

“I didn’t want to lose you, Y/n. I regret not telling you, but how could I? I wasn’t sorry, I’m still not sorry for what happened with that woman. How many times did you come to school battered? How many times were you exhausted from staying up out of fear that she would hurt you? She blamed you for the death of your brother, when you were only a child.”

You shake your head, “That’s not enough.”

“ What do you want me to say Y/n? I didn’t think you could handle it. You were slowly recovering from the damage that she caused and telling you she was dead would’ve done more harm than good,” the blonde man grew exasperated.

You scoff, “I understand why you didn’t tell me when I was younger, but that was how many years ago Piet? I’ve grown, I changed, I matured and you never once considered telling me.”

He looks down unwilling to meet your eyes. The shame finally settling across his features.

“I just felt like too much time had passed,” he mumbles.

“We all kept this from you. It wasn't just him, “ Dragos tries to lessen the pressure on his son.

Your eyes cut over to older man, “I’m aware. I’m not happy with the dishonesty on any part of equation. It irks me that I had to hear it from Fisk. If he wouldn’t have said anything, I would still be in the dark.”

“Wanda would’ve probably told you,” Pietro says under his breath.

You stand up with little regard for the table in front of you. Wanda and Natasha watch carefully, but don’t make the move to stand yet. Your hands grip the edge of the table and you can feel your body pulse as you look at the man.

“I didn’t want to hear it from Wanda, you fucking idiot. I wanted to hear it from my best friend. I wanted the guy that I told everything to afford me that same respect in return,” each word carries more hurt than the last.

“Everything except for you being in love with my sister,” he rebuttals.

You frown, “In what world is me being in love with Wanda on the same level as you hiding the fact that my mother is dead?”

That silences him.

“Maybe we should move on?” Dragos suggest, but you decline.

No, he is in the wrong. You all are in the wrong and there’s only one person who has apologized to me. I’m not moving on until, I’ve at least heard an attempt at an apology,” you stand your ground.

Dragos nods and gestures to your seat. You slowly sit down. You feel the sincerity as his eyes find yours, “Malyshka, I’m sorry for keeping this from you. It was never my intention to cause you any more grief in life. There was no excuse to keep this from you so long. Please forgive me.”

The apology from Dragos seems to trigger something in Pietro. The defensive nature of his posture drops. You knew the man didn't want to admit he was wrong. He wanted to validate his deceit under the guise of protection.

“Y/n, I- I’m sorry for letting you down. I was just doing what I thought was right, but I never considered how that would affect you. I should've been honest with you.”

You look at the two men, taking their words at face value, “Thank you.”

Dragos clasps his hands together, “ Alright, next on the agenda. I think before we get to what I had planned here, that we should talk about you three.”

Wanda speaks first, “What is there to talk about?”

Dragos can’t help but roll his eyes, “Well a moment ago it was mentioned that Y/n is in love with you.”

“Is that a problem?” Wanda’s defensiveness is akin to her brother’s.

“No, but you are married to another woman. Look moya ditya, I do not wish to be involved in your love life, but this is… a lot to digest. First you come home with a wife and now this,” Dragos speaks cautiously.

Wanda runs a hand through her hair, “I know, I’m sorry for snapping. I have no plans of leaving my wife, but I also have no plans of leaving Y/n.”

Natasha adds, “We have something unique, but it’s just as special as any other relationship. I care for both of them deeply.”

“I didn’t want to like Y/n. She was my little brother’s best friend, our age gap alone made me hesitant to explore those feelings. I didn’t want to be another person in her life to take advantage of her. I had known before I left that I had some kind of feelings for her, but I didn’t want to tell her that. I didn’t know how long I was going to be gone and she was 21, with a bright future ahead of her.”

“We had all seen something between you two, which is why I was shocked to see you come back with a wife,” Flora admits.

Wanda takes a look at her wife, “Natasha is the only reason I’m here with you now. I would not have survived those years without her. I love her and I’m sure of it.”

“And you’re ok with this?” Dragos questions Natasha.

“When I came here, I saw right through Wanda. I knew about her feelings, but as I began to spend time with Y/n I understood more. Y/n is special, I’ve never met anyone like her. So driven, so compassionate, strong-minded, empathetic. Loving her was just too easy not to do. We talked about it, it was difficult to get Wanda to open up, but once she did, we decided what to do together. It only made sense to see if Y/n was interested in us."

“And you Y/n?” Flora presses.

“I’ve always had issues feeling safe because of the way that I was raised. For a long time there was never a day I went without looking over my shoulder. Even after becoming part of this family. The only time I feel safe is when I’m with Wanda and Natasha. I can let my guard down and be vulnerable without being afraid. They’ve shown me that I don’t have to choose between being strong and being open.”

“You’re all consenting adults, and I can tell that you all care for each other. So I won’t question it any further,” Dragos supports the three of you with a nod.

“If you hurt my best friend, I will never forgive you,” Pietro glares at Wanda.

“Hey what if she hurts me?”

Pietro glances at you briefly, “She wouldn’t.”

“Last thing everyone,” Dragos takes a deep breath and looks around the table. He struggles to find the words, his wife’s hand squeezes his own

You all sit up straighter in anticipation. This was the moment that you all feared to some extent.

“Kids, I’m getting old. This whole situation has shown me that I’m not immortal. I almost lost my life more than once and I’m only here now because of this family. When we moved to this city and I decided to pursue this type of work, I knew a day like this would come. A day where I wouldn’t be able to do it on my own anymore. It has snuck up on me.”

“Papa what are you saying?” Pietro asks for clarification.

“I'm saying that it’s time that I picked a successor. I’ve thought about this for a long time now. This is not a decision I’m making in haste,” he speaks as though he had rehearsed this many times.

“ This business means a lot to him, to our family,” Flora says while comforting her husband.

“ Wanda, I want you to run the family business,” Dragos says.

Wanda sputters, “ Papa I-"

“ And I want you to do it with Y/n,” he finishes.

“You want-"

He nods, “I want the both of you to head the family business. If I’ve learned anything while running this place it’s that it is a lot for one person to do. So I thought the easiest way to combat that is by having 2 people in charge. There's no one I trust as much as the two of you. When I was in my coma the two of you were each briefly in charge, but imagine how it would be if you truly worked together on this.”

You and Wanda exchange a look and the older woman speaks, “Papa we’re flattered, honored really, but do you think we can have a moment to discuss amongst ourselves.”

The grin on his face says it all, “Of course, go chat in your old room and come back whenever you're ready.”

Wanda, Natasha, and yourself calmly walk upstairs. You all make yourselves comfortable on Wanda’s bed before anyone spoke.

“ We didn't plan for this,” you open the floor.

“I know,” Wanda says.

Natasha sighs, “So what’re you guys going to do? “

“I don’t know,” Wanda answers truthfully.

“Y/n?”

You speak softly, “I didn't know that this could be an option. I’m not going to lie, the prospect of doing it together seems more appealing, but I know we talked about leaving this life behind.”

“Is that what you want?” Natasha questions.

“I just want to do whatever it's going to keep us together,” you say truthfully.

Natasha relents, “I can tell this something you both really want.”

“ Natasha-”

“Let me finish baby, I’m never going to get in the way of your dreams. I’m not going to ask either of you to pick between our relationship and this opportunity. As for myself, I will be honest; I’m older than both you and I’ve had my fill of being in the line of fire,” Natasha explains.

“I don’t want to do this without you, Natalia,” Wanda keeps her tone gentle.

“You won’t be doing it without me. You have my full support and if I can be of any use without herring my hands dirty, I’d like that,” Natasha’s hand cups her wife’s face.

“Nat I'm willing to turn it down,” you say watching their exchange.

“Lisichka I’m not asking you to turn it down. You want this Y/n, and you deserve it. I would never take this from you. I’m proud of both of you,” she places a gentle kiss on your forehead, and does the same to Wanda.

You turn your attention to Wanda, “You want to do this with me?”

“I want nothing more,” she reaches for your hand.

You stand up and extend it to her; she did the same for Natasha.

“Let’s go start a new chapter together.”

And start a new chapter you did. Dragos retired leaving the family business in your capable hands.

Things ran a bit differently under the leadership of you and Wanda. Neither of you were willing to sacrifice certain aspects of domesticity that you dreamed of. So, it was your idea to work towards legitimizing the company that was used as a cover.

The more the company became reputable the more stock you could invest in it. There wasn’t a way completely remove yourselves from criminal activity, but Wanda worked to refine the illegal activities you were involved in.

She wanted to minimize the need for violence amongst the city. While the business still focused on trading goods, Wanda made sure to keep the distribution of those goods in mind. Wanda chose that certain supplies would go into the communities that needed them most. She began to open resources for food, clothing, and medication as a way to give back to the city.

There were still some who sought to claim power and rebel against your family, but they were not only outnumbered but outsmarted at every turn.

Eventually those long overworking hours turned into normal 9 to 5 shifts leaving you with ample time to enjoy the company of those you cared for.

“ What are you making?”

You mumble against the skin of Natasha’s neck as your arms snake around the waist of the former spy.

“Pancakes. No work today, Lisichka?”

You place a light kiss on her neck, “Nope, I’m going to be home the next few days, Wanda too.”

“She’s in the gym, if you’re wondering,” Natasha answers the question on your mind.

“In home gym was a good call wasn’t it?” Your eyes stay closed as you speak.

It wasn’t too long after you and Wanda decided to take charge of the family business, that you all decided to finally move in together. With your connections and high budget, you moved into what you could only describe as your dream home.

“Perfect call pretty girl.”

You feel your face heat at the flattery, “It’s too early to be this flirty.”

“You’re the one who came in here kissing my neck,” she rebuttals.

You whine, “Can’t help it, your skins so soft Natty.”

You trail kisses from her neck to her shoulder and back again. You continue the trail all the way up to her cheek, using your hand slightly to turn her head, before pecking her lips. She doesn’t let you slip away that easy, turning around so her hands find themselves locked around your neck. She deepens the kiss and you begin to melt.

“You’re going to burn the pancakes,” you mumble against her lips.

“I can make more,” she replies causing you to chuckle.

You pull away from her, “This will be continued later, promise.”

She pouts, but turns her attention back to the stove, “Go tell Wanda breakfast is almost ready. No funny business without me.”

You give her a salute, “Yes chef! I can promise only a little funny business chef!.”

She raises an eyebrow at you, but you put your hands up defensively.

“Don’t tell me that you can control yourself around your wife when she’s all worked up from her routine.”

It’s Natasha’s turn to chuckle, “Touché.”

You try your best to enter the gym quietly, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman in action. Your mouth begins to salivate at the sight of Wanda in her workout gear. Her breathing is labored and her muscles are bulging as she deadlifts a weight.

“I have to be the luckiest person alive to get to see you like this,” you let your presence be known.

Wanda sits the weight down gingerly, before glancing over at you, “Good morning, baby.”

“Good morning indeed,” you say shamelessly checking her out.

“Like what you see?” She bend down taking a swig of her water.

“Oh I’m utterly in love with the view at this point I can't think of anything that could make it better,” you approach her.

“No?” Wanda stands up straight so that she can be more level with you.

“Nope,” you pop the ‘p'.

Wanda gets into your personal space, lips ghosting your ear, “I can think of a couple improvements.”

If Natasha wasn’t waiting in the kitchen, you knew you’d take Wanda right there in the gym, “You drive me crazy in the best ways.”

She pulls back quickly and giggles at how flustered you are, “I think its somewhere in the job description.”

You lightly shove her shoulder, “Whatever, Nat’s got breakfast ready if you want to shower real quick and join us.”

Wanda smirks, “Care to join me in the shower?”

“I promised no funny business,” you frown but that only causes the redhead to laugh.

“My poor baby, maybe the three of us can squeeze into an afternoon shower,” she teases you.

You were about to make a snarky reply, but Wanda shimmies out of her workout top leaving you speechless. Her tights soon follow as she turns her back to you. Slowly she walks her way to the gym shower making sure to put an extra sway in her hips.

“You’re so cruel,” you lick your lips as you watch her.

She turns around and sends you wink, “All good things come to those to wait little krolik.”

You huff and make your way back to the kitchen as a flustered mess.

“ How did it go?” Natasha asks.

Instead of answering her, you march over to her and hungrily kiss her before childishly plopping into your seat at the table.

“Your wife is a menace,” you cross your arms over your chest.

“I know it’s one of my favorite things about her, “ Natasha smiles as she sets everyone’s plate at the table.

Wanda is out of the shower by the time Natasha is done and setting the table. She takes a seat across from you waiting for Natasha before she starts eating.

Once everyone is seated you begin to eat. Light chatter fills the silence as you so speak casually. After everyone is done you gather up the dishes and quickly wash them.

“Any plans for your lazy days?” Natasha asks the crime lords.

“Just quality time malyshka,” Wanda responds.

“Yep, Pietro and Monica are going to be taking care of business for us,” you add.

Natasha grins, “So what I’m hearing is I have you both to myself?”

You nod your head, “Yes mam. Might I suggest we jump straight to desert now that breakfast is over”

Wanda tosses her head back with laughter, “So one track minded this morning, little krolik. I thought I might have to fight you off in the gym.”

“Right? She almost made me burn the pancakes,” Natasha agrees with Wanda.

You roll you eyes, “First of all, you left out the part where you took all your clothes off and strutted away from me. Second of all I was just greeting the love of my life while she made breakfast. I’m innocent here.”

“Are you really?”

You hum in response, “I’ve been told I can be pretty delicate.”

The two women share a look before closing in on you. As you stand between the two redheads; doe eyes meeting their dark ones, a tingle runs through your body.

“Then I guess we should be careful with you bunny, “Wanda’s hand squeezes your waist.

Natasha shakes her head, finger resting just under your chin, “I think we should test out how delicate she is. What do you have to say little fox?”

“This must be heaven.”

The women laugh at your words, Natasha is the one to speak, “You’re adorable sweetheart.”

“Yes very adorable, but if you keep me waiting any longer I’m probably going to die,” you look at the women desperately.

Wanda lays a playful smack on your ass, “ To the bedroom.”

You let out small chuckle and run in the direction of the room. Wanda and Natasha chase after you in a fit of giggles.

Life had become kind to you over the years. Affording you times of joy and gratitude that you struggled to find in your younger years. You had a family that would do anything for you, a position of power that no one could take from you, all while keeping those beautifully domestic moments between you and the women that you loved.

You finally accepted that there was a secret strength in your delicate nature. Something that you were once ashamed of now was shown probably on your sleeve. In part you owed it to the family business, but in actuality it was all because of the family.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok @tarathia @bgwlsmahf25 @lezzylover @og-kxsh-420 @vanessashands @untoldreader @sxlfishbrokenheart @marvelgirlx @elle161989 @falloutboy-lover

[astrow0rldx]

PAC TAROT: Shadow Work

Piles read left to right. Really use your intuition for which one calls to you to read. This Reading will be a little different, because it's ai generated. But hear me out, it's extremely accurate. I pull the tarot cards, and questions and it makes a story using automatic creative writing skills. In the story format it should help understand better.

Pile One

You present yourself as someone grounded and nurturing, someone who has it all together—capable, reliable, and a provider of stability. You wear this mask of self-sufficiency with grace, offering support and care to those around you. There’s a warmth to how you handle life, as if you’re always the one others can lean on. Yet, beneath this persona, there’s a quiet dissatisfaction, an emotional numbness that you don’t let others see. You feel disconnected, like something essential is missing, but you avoid acknowledging it, preferring to maintain the image of having everything under control.

Deep down, there’s a fear of rejection and abandonment that colors how you see yourself and your place in the world. This fear stems from past experiences where you felt left out or unworthy, perhaps from moments when you reached out for support and were met with coldness or lack. That sense of being shut out has led you to withdraw emotionally, burying your desires and vulnerabilities under layers of self-protection. However, this hidden wound shapes how you move through the world—it keeps you from fully expressing the vibrant, fiery side of yourself, the part of you that is bold, passionate, and fearless. While you project strength, this shadow lingers in the background, holding you back from fully owning your power.

Your shadow comes to the surface when you’re confronted by people or situations that reflect confidence and control, especially when they embody traits you’ve repressed. These encounters stir something inside you, triggering internal conflict as your shadow self clashes with the persona you’ve carefully built. The lesson in this struggle is to reconnect with your emotional core, to allow yourself to feel deeply and openly once again. Healing comes through embracing the tension, acknowledging that inner battles are a part of your growth. By working through this, you’ll move toward a more patient and nurturing relationship with yourself, where you invest in long-term growth and understand that healing is a process—one that requires steady effort and care.

Pile Two

She finds herself in a state of suspension, caught between holding onto control and surrendering to the unknown. Outwardly, she appears strong, composed, and authoritative, someone who takes charge with ease and thrives in an orderly world. She presents herself as the one in control, the one who always knows what to do. However, beneath this confident exterior, she’s struggling with uncertainty. She feels stuck, as if the answers she’s searching for are just out of reach, and in order to find them, she knows she must let go of the rigid expectations she’s placed on herself. She wears the mask of authority, but behind it, she is deeply uncertain, torn between what she knows and what she longs to discover.

At her core, she craves connection—a relationship where she can feel deeply understood and loved. There's a romantic within her, yearning for a bond that feels effortless and sincere, as if she’s waiting for that perfect emotional partnership. But she’s haunted by past disappointments, memories of love that didn’t turn out the way she hoped. This loss lingers, making her cautious about trusting her heart again. She often revisits those past moments of grief, wondering what went wrong and fearing that opening herself up to love again will lead to more heartbreak. As much as she wants love, the weight of her emotional past makes her guard her feelings, holding back from diving fully into new connections.

Her fears and vulnerabilities surface when emotions become overwhelming, or when she’s faced with situations that push her to move too fast. In those moments, she becomes protective, holding onto her feelings and resources tightly, afraid of losing control or being vulnerable. Her instinct is to cling to what she knows, but there’s also a deeper truth: her dreams and fantasies about what could be are not just idle thoughts. They reflect her true desires, the part of her that longs to break free from her hesitation and embrace all the possibilities that life offers. To heal, she needs to release the fear of losing control, to trust that even if things are uncertain, the journey ahead is rich with opportunities—ones she’s fully capable of seizing, if only she lets go.

Pile Three

She is moving through a period of transition, quietly distancing herself from past conflicts and emotional turbulence. Her journey, both literal and metaphorical, is one of seeking peace and clarity after enduring a storm. On the outside, she may seem calm, as though she’s finally found her direction, but the waters behind her are still unsettled. Internally, she is recovering from struggles, possibly with others or even within herself. The tension and discord she’s left behind still echo in her thoughts, making it difficult for her to fully let go. While she appears to be progressing, there is a quiet battle inside her, as if she’s constantly bracing for the next challenge.

Her internal struggle centers on patience and the need to balance her desires with the reality of what she’s building. She has invested time and energy into something—perhaps a relationship, a career, or personal growth—and now she waits, unsure of the outcome. There's a restlessness beneath her calm exterior, a feeling of competition, either with herself or with others. She yearns for stability and celebration, for a moment when she can finally relax and feel secure, but she is deeply aware that the foundation she’s working on still needs time to solidify. Emotionally, she is tied to the idea of love and partnership, but her past battles have made her wary. Love feels both close and distant, like something she craves but is cautious about fully embracing.

Her emotional depth runs deep, though she doesn’t always show it. She is someone who feels intensely, yet she’s learned to control and temper her feelings. When her emotions rise, they are powerful, but she channels them carefully, maintaining a composed exterior. Her greatest strength lies in her intuition. She often knows more than she lets on, reading situations and people with a subtle, almost mystical understanding. But this also makes her guarded, as if she’s protecting herself from being hurt again. She’s been through many trials, and though she’s weary, she remains resilient. Her journey is far from over, and while the battles she’s faced have left her cautious, they have also made her wiser. She stands ready to move forward, but she knows the path ahead will require both patience and strength.

[aboutcustardcreams]

We walk the wind-y road

Another glimpse into the past: Nicky's six, and you and Agatha are trying to make the most of your days together, constantly pushing away the nagging feeling that, sooner or later, everything was destined to change.

warnings: none, just fluff and tickles.

previous chapter

You, Agatha and Nicky were walking the path through the forest. It was a beautiful sunny day, with birds chirping in harmony mingling with the wind rustling through the leaves on the trees. Blades of grass crunched softly under your feet, adding to the peaceful sounds around you, distracting you, or more likely trying to. 

You glanced over at your son then, the sight of him enough to put your heart at ease. It took you a second to recognize the song you three made up together coming from him. 

Walk, walk, walk the Road,

I walk the windy road

Agatha’s lips tugged into a defiant smile, she lowered the book she was reading to focus completely on Nicky, who was strolling beside you, “you happen to walk this windy road all by yourself?” 

The boy lifted his chin up and returned her smile, “no, mama.” The way he scrunched up his nose made it impossible for you to resist the urge to lean over to peck his forehead affectionately, “can we join you then, big man?”  

His long brown hair swayed a bit in response to the wind blowing against his face. He nodded his head and cleared his throat to restart the song. Agatha scooted closer, humming along with Nicky right away, words lingering in the air, as to seal the promise to always stick together as a family. A vow you were desperate to keep, no matter the cost. 

Walk, walk, walk the Road, 

we walk the windy road.

These moments of peace, of complete domesticity between you three meant the world to you. Nicky was your whole world, yours and Agatha’s. And your life was apparently perfect, thanks to his presence, to the chance you were given in life to be his mother. A privilege you never once took for granted. However, your heart wasn’t whole. When Rio left you three, about six years ago, she took a piece of your heart with her, probably one of Agatha’s too to be honest. Despite missing her with all your soul, craving her affection and silly jokes, you lived with the hope that your reunion would happen years and years from now. Because you knew what that would mean for you three, then. 

There was so much of Rio in Nicky: the shape of the eyes for starters, the tip of the nose, even the way his mouth curled at the corners whenever he smiled. You weren’t sure if that resemblance helped you cope with the separation from Rio, or it only made you crave her presence more and more. Maybe it was a mixture of the two things. 

You knew that this idyllic frame wouldn’t last forever. This sense of… apparent bliss, calm even would stop someday. You knew you’d have to fight for your son to stay alive when that moment came. Your magic was strong, it sparkled in anticipation just to the thought of being put to use as if it was only made for this purpose. But neither of you knew when Rio would show up to claim Nicky’s soul. And no matter how many times you told yourself you were ready, the idea of having to face the challenge was terrifying. Because you were the only one able to actually do something to change Nicky’s course of life. 

Whenever it may bend

Agatha tugged at your hand gently, apprehension written in her blue eyes. She could always sense when your mind was elsewhere, you’d scrunch up your face then, stare ahead of you, without really looking at anything in particular, and your magic would intensify, getting heavier around you, and affect everything near you. When she touched you, she felt a warm sparkle tickle her digits, you felt it too, making you quickly shift your focus, come back to the present, see her seeing you. You attempted to smile, “did you say anything?” Her thumb grazed against the back of your hand, and when she nodded her head, she repeated, “the song…”

You noticed that even Nicky was patiently waiting for your voice to mingle with theirs. So you gave him an apologetic glance and added your line. You needed to be there, to be present for Agatha and your son. Your worries could wait until night time to surface. 

I’ll be there at the end

You three sang the song again, and this time you hummed along from the beginning. Your focus shifted with Nicky being at the center of all your thoughts. He was only six years old, and yet his intelligence and empathy was above your comprehension sometimes. Agatha told you often, with pride filling her voice, that you and Nicky shared the same braveheart, along with a generosity so rare and unconditional towards every living thing that caused her eyes to water if she lingered to think about it for a second too long. Even that cute dimple, just underneath his right cheekbone, came from you. Everytime he smiled, even more when he laughed, it would show up and light up the entire space around you. Agatha would call it ‘happy little bottom’, causing both you and Nicky to laugh at how cheesy she could be. She would make sure to see that dimple every single day, because that would mean that despite all the horrible choices she had to make to keep Nicky alive, at the end of the day he was happy. 

Another incredible thing about Nicky was the fact that he knew to be different. He always did. And yet, he never asked questions about his condition, about why he would fall sick much easier than other kids. 

He might not question that specifically, but he sure questioned more often than not why so many witches had to die every other day as if it was a natural chore to be completed. 

And that happened to be one of those days. 

“Mama, why do you kill witches?”

Agatha stilled for a moment while you clenched your eyes shut and let out a shaky breath; his timid voice replaying in your head and no matter how many times you came across the same topic, it would always shock you the same way. You couldn’t blame him for wanting to know the truth, nor could Agatha, however, it wasn’t an option to be honest with him about it. Because he was like you, too considerate, his heart too good for his own sake. If Nicky were to know all those killings were necessary to keep him alive, he surely would have something to say about it, despite his young age. 

Agatha glanced at him only briefly, before coming up with a response, you knew it wouldn’t satisfy him, it being too simplistic, “to survive.” 

You pulled the boy closer to your side, and he lifted his chin, this time looking at you. His eyes squinted, and you spotted the confusion filling his hazel eyes. He wanted more, he searched for more. 

“Could we not stay with the witches and survive with them?” 

Your steps came to a halt at this point and as you did, Nicky stopped too. Agatha watched in silence as you crouched down in front of him, so that you could speak to him face to face. 

“I wish it was possible, my love,” you muttered with a hint of sadness lacing your voice. When he frowned, you ran both your hands to cup his cheekbones, thumbs gently stroking his skin, now slightly paler, and you knew he would need to feed on more magic soon. Not a single day passed without you wishing to take his illness, to transfer his condition and make it yours, but that was beyond your skills. You could do so many things, and yet the thing you wanted the most was beyond your limits. “Sometimes, as your mama said, in order to survive, tough decisions must be made. Decisions that don’t depend on you, though. I want you to always remember that, okay?”

He nodded quietly, eyes boring into yours, as a veil of understanding started forming in them. Agatha nibbled on her bottom lip, lashes fluttering quicker to ward off those angry tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. It was harder for you to kill, but you never backed away from doing it. You even resurrected a couple of them once, tried to apologize with tears in your eyes, mortified by the things you had to do, but they wouldn't listen to reason. All you found was hatred in their eyes, and not only they didn’t accept your apology, they also threatened to take yours, Agatha’s and Nicky’s life. You knew there was nothing to be done then, with your magic weakened by the effort of bringing those witches back, Agatha would shield you and Nicky and absorb their magic all over again, making your act of mercy completely vain. So eventually, you stopped doing that. Agatha begged you to, noticing what it was doing to you. 

“You and mama are witches, right?” 

You nodded your head, unsure where he was going with this. 

“And you live together,” he reasoned, “You don’t try to kill each other-”

Agatha let out a quiet, sad chuckle at that. Nicky was clever, so much so that sometimes, it was hard to keep up with him. 

“It’s different,” you quickly said, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “I love your mama,” Agatha’s heart swelled at your words, she licked her lips and nodded, glancing down at the two of you with immense love, a hand lingering upon your shoulder. Then you scooted closer to Nicky, lips against his ear as you whispered, “but I love you more.” 

The boy giggled. It caught Agatha’s attention, and that’s when she crouched down next to the two of you, she asked with a cocked eyebrow, “what was that?”

You nibbled on your bottom lip, trying so hard to suppress a grin from curling your lips. It only caused Nicky to squirm and chuckle more, so you pulled him in your arms, “Nothing. Our boy was just craving some cuddles, right?” Agatha’s eyes lingered on those two dimples as they both popped out at the same time. She watched him wrap his arms around your neck, snickering and nodding at the same time.  

“Momma said she loves me more,” your eyes snapped open at his confession. 

Agatha let out a defiant sound at that, “Oh, did she now?” There was a playful glimmer in her orbs when she locked eyes with you. 

“You little snitch–” you started, voice morphing in a teasing and silly tone. Nicky dropped the rope the moment your fingers wiggled up and down his sides, tickling him immediately. The sound of his laughter soon echoed throughout the forest, muffling all the others and giving you the illusion that everything was fine, that your son was healthy with no invisible countdown threatening his life. 

“Mama! Mama– help!” 

“Oh no, big boy, now you face the consequences of your–”

Before you could finish that sentence, you felt Agatha’s hands slip down your waist, pulling you against her with such unexpected force, both of you stumbled backwards in the soft grass behind you. “Agatha, what in the world?” You chuckled and tried to break free, but she didn’t let you go, “I do believe I deserve an explanation, my love–” her voice sounded like a soft murmur against your ear. Her long wavy hair tickled your face as she drew closer, raising you soft goosebumps over your skin. 

In the meantime, as Nicky’s laughter quieted down, his grin stayed, “get her mama! Use your purple!” 

Agatha seemed tempted by the idea, whereas you not so much, “my purple, huh?” 

“No, no, no– don’t you dare!” 

Despite your warning, your voice carried more amusement than alarm, and Agatha didn’t miss it. In a heartbeat, she turned the tables— quite literally. She spun you around, and the world tilted as your back hit the cool blades of grass underneath you. A startled giggle escaped you, and you locked eyes with her, “Agatha Harkness, I am serious–” using her full name as warning, only fueled her intent to ruin you. 

“So am I, baby,” Agatha grinned down at you, her knees on either side of you, pinning you effortlessly. She wiggled her fingers in mid air and that’s when you spotted a glimpse of purple over them. 

The moment Agatha’s fingernails brushed against your sides, you couldn’t help the sound slipping from your lips– a mixture of a squeal and helpless laughter, light and almost childish. Another thing you had in common with your son was your ridiculous ticklishness. 

She found out by accident, to be honest. Nicky wasn’t in the picture yet. There was Rio, though. You were lying on your stomach, nestled against Rio’s side in bed. Agatha’s arm lazily looped around your middle, her fingers tracing soft, absent-minded patterns along your skin, a sweet cuddle before sleep. When suddenly Agatha’s fingers skimmed your side, near your hip bone, your body jolted and a high-pitched sound slipped from your lips, which involuntarily startled them. 

Rio’s chin lifted from its resting spot atop your head and almost laughed in disbelief, “Did you just– squeak?” 

You groaned, already burying your flushed face deeper into Rio’s chest, making you miss the amused glimmer flashing into Agatha’s eyes, “I did not.” 

“I think you did, my love,” she argued. 

Before you could protest, her fingers ghosted over your side again, near the same spot, eliciting another yelp from you that turned into a real fit of giggles the moment she really started tickling you.

That’s how your little secret stopped being one. 

Back in the present, Agatha felt her heart swell with love at the sight of that familiar dimple appearing on your cheek. Glancing over at Nicky, she realized he had it too, his own showing as a huge grin spread across his lips.  

“Oh, would you look at that!” When her purple joined in, as Nicky suggested, adding a feathery sensation to your already oversensitive skin, it only made you thrash and laugh harder, “Pretty inconvenient for such a powerful witch like you to be this ticklish, huh?” 

“Agatha– Stop it!”

“I don’t know,” she teased, her tone both playful, as she gave you another playful jab at your side. When your laughter turned silent and tears started prickling at your eyes, Agatha’s gaze softened and her fingers slowed down, but without stopping completely. 

“What do you say, Nicky? Shall I let her off the hook?” She asked, glancing over at the boy, who had been watching the entire thing with a grin on his face. 

The boy closer to the two of you, coming into your line of sight. You thanked the Dark Mother when he gave Agatha a nod of his head as a response, making her stop her innocent, yet disarming assault right away. 

“You okay, momma?” 

You weakly lifted a thumb up, voice a tad breathless as you tutted, “Y-yeah— peachy.” 

When Agatha got off you, you propped yourself up and leaned on your elbows, finally allowing yourself to catch your breath, “I’ll get you two for this– just you wait.” 

“We will be ready,” Agatha mused.

You rolled your eyes, and before you could formulate another retort, she leaned back down again, her hands slipping to your hips, not to tickle this time, but to steady herself. Her face hovered a few inches from yours, her long hair falling like silk across your shoulders. 

The playful gleam in her eyes shifted into something else, a much tender look, that made your breath hitch and your heart jump in your throat all over again, “that was mean, you know–” your flushed cheeks betrayed just how much you weren’t really complaining about what happened.

Agatha tilted her head and cocked an eyebrow, “I’m sure I can make it up with you quite nicely–”

“Oh, can you?” 

Humming softly, her lips found yours in a slow, unpretentious kiss, that put a huge smile on both your face and Agatha’s. The world stopped for a moment– the sounds around you, the voices inside your head, until an exaggerated groan pierced the moment. 

“Ew, moms!”

You broke the kiss with a quiet chuckle, much to Agatha’s displeasure. She let out a dramatic sigh and leaned her forehead against yours, unwilling to let go of you just yet, “You should know Nicky, when two people really love each other–”

“Agatha!” You cut her off, a blush rising to your cheeks. “We are not doing this right now.” 

Agatha pressed her lips into a thin line, clearly holding back a grin as she glanced over at your son, who didn’t seem very keen on learning about that just yet. “Right. That’s a story for another time.”

[yandere-yearnings]

Know Me Like the Devil Knows My Sins (Loser!Yandere x GN!Reader)

feat. genie's loser yan

♡ oneshot, approx. 1.5k words

♡ post-specific warnings: yandere themes, implied kidnapping, violence, strangulation, implied death

♡ a/n: thank you to @moyazaika for letting me write abt his oc, loser yan!! genie, if you read this, pls ignore the fact that my characterisation sucks ass. this was over 3k but i went back and cut out the waffle bc there was a lot of it lmao, so ig it's technically edited, but not proofread.

♡♡♡

This basement was cold. 

Heated blankets and warm meals, however many times a day they were brought to you, didn’t change much. No windows or light for even a semblance of passing time, all you had was the annoying draft that skimmed through the door at the top of the staircase — the one you weren’t allowed near. You wouldn’t have been able to escape even if you wanted to, not with the chain around your ankle. For as free as he tried to make you feel, the heavy metal was a constant reminder that there was no liberty in his love, if it could even be called that.

You were waiting for his return, less because you wanted to and more because it was the only thing you could do other than read the books he’d given you. They were all your favourites, from the stories your mother used to read you as a child to the ones you’d pick up on your way home when you’d grown up. At first, you’d found the thoughtfulness of it endearing, feeling seen and understood and catered to. Somewhere, kept within his walls, you didn’t blame yourself for becoming as delusional as he was.

How could you enjoy anything anymore, with no one to share it with?

Each new day that passed, every page you would read and read again, only accomplished you in realising the loneliness that coiled around you. Second by second, growing larger than your life had been before this. Soon, your loved ones would stop looking for you. Soon, you’d be considered dead — and in death you would be all his. You knew that was what he wanted.

You had made yourself comfortable on the vulnerabilities he presented to you, in the way he shook when your fingers stroked his skin, his shudders at your calling his name. That was all too good to be true. If you had actual control in this, he’d have surrendered to you long ago. You’d been testing it. Playing mind games, pushing limits — he’d shut you down quick, then cover the shrewdness in his eyes with a bashful smile. You were no fool, and clearly he wasn’t either.

Your bitterness surmounted with the echoing of locks clicking open. There wasn’t a need for as many as he had placed to keep you here, you weren’t sure you could even run anymore. You hadn’t used your legs in so long. He’d surely catch you. He’d rip your throat out like he did in your nightmares. You had no faith you wouldn’t become another layer of red on the white paint surrounding. Perhaps you should’ve been thankful, if fear were to be a knife, he’d certainly dulled it for you — slinking in, shoulders slumped and looking as meek as ever. Really, from the first glance, he didn’t look like he could hurt a fly.

“Darling…” there was that tone, demure, like you could do anything to hurt him from your place on this filthy mattress, your place on the floor as he stood above you. Towering. This entire thing felt like a sick joke. You’d once considered there being a chance for you. Hope crumbled just like he did, to his knees to look into your eyes. “I missed you so much today, my love.”

You blinked at him. You knew where this was going.

“I mean- I miss you every day, don’t get me wrong!” Sheepish laughter, twitching fingers — all signs of his wanting your validation. “I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about you, not at all. Work has been so hard, and you’re the only thing I can look forward to truly and- and I really, really wanted to come back home quickly and ask if you’d...”

His sentence trailed off, and it took all you had to suppress the urge to roll your eyes. He wasn’t very creative, that much was obvious. You’d initially chalked it up to some cute sort of performance anxiety that he experienced because he wanted to come off as appealing to you. Now, it had begun to dawn on you that he was simply struggling to keep up the pathetics. As you curled your digits into his hair, as you tugged him closer and let him muffle his weak moan into your neck, you wondered why either of you were bothering anymore. No audience except for the earwigs that crawled about, no one who’d watch this stupid, repetitive show.

“I’ll hold you,” you whispered, tired enough that even your dishonesty could be mistaken as gentle. “I’ll hold your heart. Don’t worry. I know.”

You could feel his lips on your skin, chapped, scraping where he tried to formulate words. You were sure he too felt this warring between the both of you, this constant fight, teasing superiority, challenging who would take the reigns in this sombre dance. Bored out of your mind, anticipating when he’d get tired of you — but you were his infatuation so that could never happen.

“Not enough about me,” he breathed, “my sweetheart, my entire world, you wouldn’t know what I’ve done for you.” His hands dug into your waist where they rested, gripping flesh over fabric like it would give him warmth. It wouldn’t, because it was freezing in here.

“Won’t you tell me?”

Quiet laughter. “You’d be scared if I did.”

“I already am.” Your words made him pull away, made him peer at you with those eyes. You held his gaze. “I already am afraid of you. I already know who you are. Tell me anyway, since-”

“Since you love me.” He interrupted you, finished your sentence with words you had not been planning to utter. He didn’t say it tentatively enough; gave himself away with that and the severe expression on his face that his hair did not hide. It was a shame that now wasn’t one of your better days, lest you’d have heeded the silent warning.

“Since I can’t leave,” you corrected. No energy for even a single ounce of regret, none to even whimper at the violent pressure of his grip on your collarbones.

Sometimes, he’d come to you with blood caked under his fingernails. Sitting there like he was sinless, mouth running for hours about you in every way he could. All your likes and dislikes, all your habits, all your life — as if you didn’t know yourself. Again, those lips were moving, spitting at you like it could quell the anger you could see bubbling beneath the surface.

Your perfect person, he spilled descriptions like the ideals you once had were his intimate study, asking you why. Why wasn’t he enough even though he’s everything you’d ever wanted? When he’d made sure of it? Your chance to answer was taken by lithe fingers on your neck, but if you could, you’d have told him that at its core, it was just that every desire you had, looked like something disgusting on him.

“Sweetheart, this isn’t like you, c’mon,” his words came ringing, buzzing, an entire choir of metal scraping metal underwater, your world spinning and head pressed back into the mattress too fast to stop him from climbing on top of you, “don’t deny your feelings for me.”

Your eyes rolled back and his hold on you only loosened a fraction. Staring at the dark inside your own skull, gasping breaths through bruised tissue. You thought you heard knocking, and surely it’d be death at your door if you didn’t backtrack now, didn’t tell him what he wanted to hear, like you had been until you’d lost yourself in your own lies.

Survival instinct should’ve kicked in, but then sight and sound returned to you, and you accepted that you wouldn’t be the hero in your story. You’d get yourself killed, yet, how could you love a man that loomed over you with eyes on fire? He’d burn you up to make it through the winter, and find another once your ashes were blown away.

Even if it made you a villain, drowning in the blood pooling from your ears, you owed yourself your last rasp to him. “I hate you,” broken and choked on tears cutting through the numbness. Your nails clawing everywhere you could reach, on this bed of springs that felt nothing like the one you so desperately wanted to return to, you mourned all you were losing. 

Limbs going numb — salt — you’d never see home again.

When under constant observation, there’s only so much one can conceal about themselves. He knew that well. From the pictures of you in his gallery and the endless notes with your name repeated over and over and over — he’d chosen to obsess, and you were forced to, and you became his mirror the longer he kept you. Going mad, crazy, insane because his was the only face you could remember anymore.

You knew his moods from his scent and his needs from his touch, you knew him to the heart of the blank slate he’d always been, you knew him rooted carnally to you because it was the only thing grounding him. He hadn’t needed to tell you anything really, and you didn’t need to push. You knew him like the devil knew his sins.

And he’d take you to hell for it.

[poeticpascal]

Home (Joel Miller x Barbie!Reader)

Masterlist | Request here!

Summary: When a deep sense of loneliness overcomes Cowgirl Barbie, she leaves Barbieland to find whatever poor kid it is that's making her feel that way. Of course, she could never have expected just how much light Sarah would bring to her life, and she certainly didn't expect the things her grumpy father would teach her about love.

Word count: 10.6k

Warnings: Barbie movie spoilers, angst, angry Joel (he's insecure and protective), descriptions of loneliness, lots of fluff!

A/n: this is literally my Magnum Opus. Reader is Cowgirl Barbie. I truly hope you love this as much as I do 💖

Barbieland has been very different since Stereotypical Barbie left. Good different.

The Kens have jobs now, proper jobs, not just ‘Beach’ or ‘Surf’. They’re not the most competent workers Barbieland has ever seen; they get too distracted trying on new overalls at the building site or throwing paper aeroplanes at each other in the offices. But they’re trying, and you have to admit, it’s pretty adorable seeing them so excited to head off to work each morning.

Barbieland has laughter now, true laughter, not perfect giggles but the kind that brings tears to your eyes and makes your belly hurt. It has crying, proper full-bodied sobs that rack through your chest, aching in a good way. And it has life. Fervent, overwhelming, painfully brilliant life.

It’s magnificent, even the really hard bits. Which there are a lot of.

Like losing someone you really, really love.

Stereotypical Barbie - Barbara, as she’s known now - had been your best friend. Your Dreamhouse was right next to hers, and every morning you’d float down to the streets together, where she’d hop into her little pink car and you’d mount your pony and ride into town. It was perfect, a sweet little life surrounded by pinkness and joy, and if you’re being completely honest with yourself, you miss it.

You bonded over how displaced you both felt. Neither of you really had a thing, a specific job to do. She was Stereotypical Barbie, and you’re Cowgirl Barbie. Destined to wear dusty denim and cowboy hats for all of eternity; not a doctor, not a physicist, not an astronaut and certainly not the president. Just a cowgirl.

And there aren’t even any cows.

That was what brought you and Stereotypical Barbie together; you both felt slightly unsure of the world, however perfect it may be, and you found friendship in that.

So when she left, that hurt. 

Because she found purpose.

Purpose in feeling, and knowing, and living.

Purpose in things you could only dream about. And what you hate the most is that she was right.

It feels good to hurt. It feels good to have that pain in your chest, that ache in your cheeks when you’re not quite done crying yet. That emptiness that fills the space where flowers had once bloomed.

It feels like shit to miss your friend, and it feels incredible to have loved someone so much that you miss them.

And that’s the beauty she brought to your life. To all the Barbies’ lives.

But it still goddamn hurts.

About as much as the strange thoughts of loneliness have hurt the past few weeks.

You’re never alone in Barbieland; there’s always someone there, a friend, a listening ear. A million other Barbies who genuinely care.

But the feeling is so strong, so heavy in your gut, that all the Barbies and Kens and Allens in the world can’t take it away.

Which only calls for one thing.

“Your friend had the same problem, you know,” Weird Barbie says, walking round you in circles like prey. You gulp; she’s significantly less ‘weird’ now, what with her fancy job at the Capital and the whole ‘awakened Barbies’ thing, but she certainly kept some habits that set you a little bit on edge.

“How do you mean?” You stutter, trying to keep up as she continues to stalk around you and make strange gestures.

“First came the depression-” she pulls down a presentation screen from god-knows where, one decorated with the typical Barbie anatomy and annotated with the same notes Weird Barbie is now recounting. She points to the head, ‘depression’ scribbled beside it, and stops in front of you.

“And then-” she moves again, rotating to the other side of the screen and pointing to the drawing’s legs. “-came the cellulite.”

She pauses, seemingly waiting for some big reaction, but you just stare. Sure, cellulite was feared back then, but almost every Barbie has it now, and it’s really no big deal. “...okay?” you posit, slightly more concerned as Weird Barbie’s face falls at your reply.

“Damn, I guess we really are doing things differently now.” Her surprise is dropped quickly, as she continues to explain what it means to be overcome with these awful feelings so quickly.

“In the end, sweetheart, there’s only one way to fix this.” She leans in uncomfortably close, making you gulp. “You gotta go to the real world.”

You had a feeling she’d say that. 

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

When you arrive in the real world, there’s really only one person you can go to. The one person you’ve missed more than anything.

She was your best friend, and yet standing here on the doorstep of an apartment that looks nothing like a Dreamhouse, you can’t help how nervous you feel.

She’d given all the Barbies her new address, in case any of them managed to sneak into the real world, so she mustn’t mind that you’re here. But she’ll be so different now, so human, and you’re still just a Barbie with a jaunty cowgirl outfit and a sunny disposition.

Your worries are immediately washed away when the door flings open, and before you can even see who it is, a pair of arms are tightly wrapped around your neck and you’re pulled in for a big, warm hug. But you know who it is, and you hug her back immediately, tears welling in your eyes as you finally hold your best friend again.

Barbara pulls back, holding your cheeks in her hands, almost like she didn’t think you were really there. “I can’t believe you’re here!” She grins, hugging you again with a giggle. “I missed you so much.”

“Oh, Barbara, I missed you too,” you cry, not wanting to let her go. 

“What are you doing here?” She asks, and you finally relax your arms, taking in how much she’s changed. She isn’t wearing anything pink, or sparkly, but a white blouse and nude pants that look very professional. Very human. Very different.

You don’t reply to her question, unsure of what the answer even is, and that alone makes her worried. So she takes you by the hand and leads you into her apartment, one painted white with sweet pictures on the walls of her with Sasha and Gloria, and some other women you don’t recognise. It makes you a little jealous.

She leads you to the kitchen, sitting you on a bar stool and pouring tea for you both. You go to drink it, holding the cup away from your mouth and tipping it, but she quickly jumps up shouting “no!” and pulling the cup down.

She laughs, making you laugh nervously too, and explains you need to hold the cup to your lips and sip. “Are you sure?” you ask, staring down at the liquid and tentatively trying to drink it, the warmth on your tongue foreign but sweet. 

“Yep! That’s how we drink here. I know it’s weird but once you get used to it, it’s so good.”

You smile, putting down the cup and looking back at your friend. “Things are pretty different here, huh?”

Barbara smiles, nodding her head and swinging her legs where they hang from the stool. “Yep! Isn’t it great?”

“Yeah, it is,” you reply, with a fraction of the excitement. You push a loose strand of hair behind your ear, knocking your hat slightly which you quickly correct into place, acutely aware of yourself in the presence of someone who’s changed so much. “Do… do you ever miss us? The Barbies?”

She grimaces, making you regret asking as soon as the words leave your lips. Her eyebrows sink into concern, and she sets her tea down beside yours, taking your hand and squeezing it tightly.

“Every single day. Of course I miss you - I even miss the Kens!” You both giggle, and you’re reminded of how things were before. 

You have to admit, you almost asked your Ken to come with you, but he was having so much fun in Barbieland now that you couldn’t bring yourself to take him away from it.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel that way.” Her eyes have welled up now, and guilt hits you like a truck.

“No, no, I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m so happy for you, truly.” You smile, and you know she knows you mean it. “I just… I feel so lonely. It’s like a big hole in my chest, all the time. No matter what I do, no matter how many girl’s nights and big blowout parties and days on the beach, I just feel lonely. And it’s even worse without you here.”

Barbara holds your hand tighter, and something you said seems to have caught her attention. “You mean you felt like this even before I left? Before the Kendom?”

You nod, sheepish, and her eyes squint in thought. Then, as if a lightbulb has gone off in her head, she gives you her trademark big white smile and excitedly shouts, “I know what you need to do!”

She jumps off her chair, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking LA. You stand there for a moment, taking in the view, the overwhelming sights and sounds of rushing traffic below you. It’s beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

“You need to find the little girl who’s playing with you,” Barbara whispers, watching your amazement. 

“Isn’t that what you did?” You ask, finally pulling your eyes away to face your friend. She nods, her smile just as bright and honest as ever, and it makes the idea of facing this big wide world seem a little less scary.

“I’ll come with you, we’ll go find her, and we’ll figure out what’s been making her feel so lonely.” 

“Will you really come with me?” 

You already know the answer; of course she will. She’s the kindest person you know. Of course, all the Barbies are the kindest people you know, but that’s a technicality you don’t feel like getting into right now.

“You know it,” she grins, and you can’t help but grin back as you think about what an adventure this is going to be.

“How will I know where to find her?” You ask, looking back through the window at the huge world on the other side of the glass. How could you possibly find your kid?

Barbie tugs you to face her, straightens your hat and looks directly into your eyes, making you focus. “You gotta be really calm, okay? Just close your eyes, clear your mind, and find her memories. And then try to figure out where she is. That’s how I found Sasha!’

You nod, not quite sure how this is going to work, if this is going to work. But you try anyway, squeezing your eyes shut and doing your best to shush all the noise and confusion in your head, desperately searching for anything that could help you find your kid. You get nothing, ready to give up after a few minutes of emptiness, when suddenly - there it is, the faintest hint of a memory.

“Dad, can we have a movie night tonight?” Sarah asks, watching as Joel paces the room, frantically searching for his other shoe.

“Yeah, sweetheart, course,” he replies. She smiles, heading over to the TV stand and already searching for a film to watch, giggling as her Dad begins to lift up the couch cushions. 

She looks down, seeing the shoe hiding just behind the stand, and rolls her eyes as she picks it up and throws it at him. “How’d you find it?” He mutters, scoffing as she just laughs at him, though a matching grin is etching its way onto his lips.

He slides on the other shoe, grabbing his wallet and keys and heading over to give Sarah a kiss on the head. “When will you be home?” She asks, and he offers a guilty smile that doesn’t make her particularly hopeful.

“Soon as I can, Sarah. Around 8? 9 at the latest.” She nods, forcing a smile and letting him go, and Joel’s out the door in a flash with a final shout of “Love you, honey!” and a slam of the door.

The memory changes, then.

It’s nighttime, and Sarah lies alone on the couch, a movie playing that she doesn’t seem to be really watching. Her eyes flicker up to the mantlepiece, where the clock reads 10:13, and she sighs. 

Then she stands, traipsing into the hallway and towards the front door, where the key hangs in the lock. She turns it, unlocking the door and leaving the key on the sidetable, then picking up a piece of mail that had been left there.

“51 Mulberry Road

Travis County

Austin, Texas

Dear Mr. Miller, we are writing to solicit your contracting services for our new development…”

Sarah groans, throwing the letter back on the table and muttering “more work, great.” She retreats upstairs, slamming the door behind her and climbing into bed…

You’re pulled out of the memory by Barbara’s voice, filled with excitement. “Can you see her? Do you know her name? Do you know where she is?”

“Sarah” you mumble, still dazed. “Sarah, her name’s Sarah.”

Barbara squeals, clapping her hands together before calming herself and urging you to continue. “And? Where is she?”

You concentrate, trying to remember what was written on the letter you saw. “Er… Texas. Yeah, she’s in Texas. Mulberry Road. Is that close?”

She pulls a face, a yeah… no kind of face, then grabs a big book from under her coffee table and flips it open. You watch in amazement as she scans the pages and pages of maps inside, until she shouts, “a-ha!”, pointing to a spot on a page titled ‘The United States of America’. “Here it is. We’ll need to fly there.”

A nervous excitement brews in your tummy, your eyes glued to the little spot on the map labelled Texas. The spot where Sarah lives, with her Dad. The place you’re destined to find.

“Oh, and don’t get freaked out… but men fly planes here.” Your head snaps up, confusion painting your face, and Barbara just nods at your reaction.

“Seriously?” You ask, wondering if she was just playing a prank. “Is… is that safe?”

She giggles, putting the book down and grabbing your hand. “Yep, there’s a lot to get used to here. You’ll see. Now come on, we need to pack our bags!”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

And so here you are, on a flight to Texas, on your way to find Sarah and bring an end to her loneliness. 

Barbara tells you all about the real world. How different yet wonderful it is, how much there is to do and see and feel. She’s at university now, getting qualifications to be a psychologist and work with young girls who are struggling. It’s brilliant, but strange, you think - qualifications aren’t needed in Barbieland - anyone can just do anything. Well, the Barbies can. And the Kens really do try.

The journey is filled with new and exciting things, but it’s scattered with memories of Sarah and her dad that pop up in your mind at random. You see everything; their best moments, their worst, the times they’ve laughed and cried and screamed. 

You can see the first time she chose you. She was smaller, much smaller than she is in the more recent memories, and her Dad seemed friendlier, then.

“Alright, honey. Which one d’ya want?” Joel asks, smiling as Sarah’s eyes scan shelf after shelf of Barbies. 

“You should get this one,” he jokes, picking up a doll labelled ‘Builder Barbie’. “She’s just like your daddy!”

Sarah giggles, shaking her head and crossing her arms. “You’re not a builder, daddy! You’re a cont-ac-er.”

Joel’s heart warms, both at how much she loves his job and won’t accept a vague similarity, and her attempted pronunciation of the word ‘contractor’. 

“Well then, which one, babygirl?”

She spends a few more moments looking at each option, before her eyes widen, landing on one a little further away to the left. She stands up on her tippy-toes, grabbing the doll and admiring it, giddy.

“This one, Daddy! I want this one!” She shows him the doll, waving it in his face but not letting him take it, protective already. It’s a Cowgirl Barbie, one clothed in denim and brown leather, with cliche cowboy boots and a hat. 

“She’s just like you, Daddy.”

Joel pulls a face, looking back and forth between Sarah and the doll. “How in the hell is she like me?”

Sarah scowls, pointing to the cowboy hat and explaining, “she’s a cowgirl! And you’re a cowboy!” 

“I ain’t no cowboy” Joel retorts, shaking his head and leading Sarah over to the cashier’s desk. “When have you ever seen me in one of them hats, huh?”

Sarah giggles, itching to take the doll out of the box, and Joel knows she’ll do it the second he’s paid. “Maybe you can borrow hers, daddy, and be a proper cowboy.”

He rolls his eyes, though the smile hasn’t fallen from his face for even a second. He pays, watching with joy as Sarah scrambles to rip open the plastic, finally pulling out the doll and hugging it the whole way home while making up stories of ranches and horses and pistol duels - she was certainly her father’s daughter.

“Barbie? You there?” Barbara pulls you out of your thoughts, staring at you as you finally turn to look at her. 

“Sorry, I’m here. Just…”

“Keep getting memories, huh?” 

You nod, looking out the plane window and into the skies. She still seems concerned, but lets it go, returning to her magazine and letting you be with your thoughts. 

More memories swirl in your mind; you can see Sarah’s first days of middle school and high school, her most vulnerable moments of crying in her room and talking to you like you were the only one who’d listen, her relationship with her dad and how he’s become more and more distant over the years.

Sarah slams her bedroom door behind her, falling on the bed with a sigh. She sits back up, her eyes falling on the Cowgirl sat on the shelf across from her, growing dusty as she plays with it less and less.

She’s 14 now, too old for dolls really. And yet, that Barbie had been there with her through her toughest moments, and even now, it was comforting to have her there.

“Dad’s at work. Again.” She says, half to the doll, half to herself. “It sucks.”

She dives into her backpack, pulling out a small box and opening it up, the newly-polished watch inside glistening in the light from the window. 

She takes it out, delicately, and turns it around to see the engraved lettering on the back. 

‘No matter what, we have each other. I love you, Dad. From Sarah x’

She smiles, quickly placing the watch back in its box, not wanting to damage it before she could even give it to her Dad. “You think he’ll like it?” She asks the doll smiling at her from the shelf.

“I just… I just want him to know I love him. And that I know he doesn’t mean to be gone all the time.” 

She stands, picking the doll up from the shelf and brushing the dust away, carefully readjusting her little hat and smiling at the piece of her childhood. 

“I’ll give it to him tonight. If he ever comes home,” she sighs, lying down beside the Barbie and taking a nap, knowing she had a long wait ahead.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

“Alright, here we are!” Barbara chimes, pulling up to the house you’d been looking for. 51 Mulberry Road. 

“Are you nervous?”

“Hell yeah I’m nervous,” you quip, the fear plainly stated in your wide eyes. What if she doesn’t like you? What if you can’t help her feel less lonely? What if this just doesn’t work?

“Look, I’ve been there,” she replies, knowing exactly how you feel. “You’ve gotta remember that you’re her Barbie. You’re her friend, and she’s yours. It’s all gonna work out. My only advice? Don’t expect her to thank you for making everything amazing for women. Trust me, it does not end well.”

You giggle, remembering the story of when she first met Sasha, and hope Sarah won’t be quite as mean. You feel a little better, and thank Barbara for her support, grateful to have your friend back.

“Alright, I’m gonna go and get a coffee. If you need anything, call me, okay?” She hands you the little flip phone she bought, having shown you how to make texts and calls on it to her iPhone. You nod, thanking her again and stepping out of the car, the nerves building up as you hear her drive away and you’re left alone in front of the house.

You take a deep breath, your boots clicking on the path as you make your way up to the door, supported by a big wooden patio and a bench out front. It reminds you of home a little; your western-themed Dreamhouse, clad with old wooden floors and southern-style windows.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you raise a hand and knock, waiting with baited breath before you hear footsteps on the other side and the door swings open.

And there she is. Sarah.

She’s a little older than she was in the most recent memories you saw, around 16 now. She’s tall, with a purple cardigan on and pretty blue jeans that you’re jealous of already. Her smile is bright, precious, and if you didn’t know better you’d think she was a Barbie herself.

“Can I help you?” She asks, looking you up and down with a slightly confused, but still polite expression. 

You stall, the introduction you’d prepared completely forgotten, your mouth just opening and closing like a fish out of water. Sarah’s expression becomes one of concern more than anything, and she reaches out a soft hand to touch your arm, making you jump.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” she pauses, looking you over again. “Sorry, do I… do I know you?”

You stumble again, trying to find the right words, and she must see how genuinely nervous you are because she searches behind you into the street, then pulls you inside and shuts the door. “Come on, you need something to drink.”

She leads you to the kitchen, a beautifully decorated but old fashioned room with porcelain tiles and wooden beams across the ceiling. You trace your fingers across the counter top, looking around in awe while Sarah pours you a glass of lemonade. 

Your eyes fall to the corner of the room, where her school bag sits, and a familiar-looking cowboy hat pokes out. You walk towards it without thinking and pull out the doll, admiring the little plastic version of yourself.

“Oh, that’s - that’s not what it looks like. I’m not… I don’t play with dolls anymore, obviously, I just…”

Sarah’s voice trails off, and you assume she’s embarrassed, but when you turn to face her you realise it’s not that at all. She’s staring at you, then the doll, then back at you, with a cocktail of confusion and realisation on her face. 

“You’re dressed… you look exactly like her. What -“ She’s cut off by the front door slamming shut, and a familiar voice shouting down the hall, “Sarah? I’m home.”

Her eyes widen, quickly looking for somewhere she to hide you, the stranger she’s invited in, panicking as her Dad’s footsteps get louder.

But it’s too late. Joel stands in the door frame, staring at you, then shooting Sarah a look that says, ‘the fuck is this?’

“Dad, I can explain-“ he cuts her off, staring you in the eye and taking a step towards you. He looks older than he did in your memories - not in the way that Sarah does, but in a tired way, like he’d worked a hundred years and counting. Grey curls wash over his head, matched by a silvery beard and sunken eyes, and for all the Kens you’ve known in your life, you don’t think you’ve met anyone as handsome as him.

“Who the fuck are you?” He asks - no, demands, one arm protectively stretched in Sarah’s direction.

“I- I’m- Barbie. I’m Barbie.” You stutter, clutching the doll a little tighter in your hand. Joel’s face scrunches angrily, and he looks at Sarah again, who just shrugs.

“You’re fuckin’ what?” He asks, clearly unimpressed.

You panic, holding up the doll to your face, showing him the obvious similarities between you. The same clothes, same hairstyle, same eyes. 

“You know, Cowgirl Barbie. Sarah’s Barbie,” you explain, a little more confident now, hoping they’d accept your explanation.

Your hopes are quickly dashed as Joel asks Sarah, “do you know this clown?” 

His arms are clenched, and you try not to worry about what’s coming next.

“No, Dad, but-“

He cuts her off. “So you just invited this crazy person into our home?” 

He’s shouting now, and you recoil, remembering Barbara’s first experience meeting Sasha. You wonder if this is worse.

“Dad, don’t talk about her like that,” Sarah shouts back. It makes you feel at least a little better, but it’s too late. Joel’s incensed, shouting about stranger danger and how you’re probably an escapee from some mental asylum, how weird it is that you know what dolls she owns and how to dress like them. 

“- and you” he looks directly at you now, pointing. “You get the hell out of my home and you don’t speak to my daughter ever again, you hear me?”

Tears stream down your face as you nod, throwing the doll onto the counter and running past Sarah and Joel and out of the house. You can barely make it out the front door, stumbling against the columns on the patio, before making it just far enough onto the grass outside to stumble to your knees and let yourself cry properly.

That same, overwhelming loneliness fills you again, tearing deep into your chest and only adding to your pain. Your shoulders shake, and you try to remind yourself of what they teach you at Barbieland; crying is good, hurting is good. It means you’re alive.

But it really doesn’t feel good right now.

You can hear the faint sound of the door opening and closing, but you don’t really register it, not until you feel a soft hand on your shoulder.

You look behind you, meeting Sarah’s apologetic eyes, and you try to wipe your own of their flood of tears. 

“Oh no, I’m sorry, I must look horrible,” you laugh, though it’s forced.

Sarah smiles, sitting down in front of you, knees crossed. “I think you look beautiful.”

And that makes you really smile.

You giggle, pulling off your cowboy hat and setting it on the grass beside you. Your denim jacket feels a little hot now, too tight, but you try to ignore the feeling and focus on getting your breathing back to normal.

“Is it true? Are you really… her?” 

Sarah’s question is soft, like she doesn’t know quite which answer she wants. You only nod, fiddling with your hands in your lap.

“You’re Barbie?” She asks again, and you can tell she’s expecting a reply this time.

“Cowgirl Barbie,” you answer, still only looking at your hands. 

“God, you know, when Stereotypical Barbie came here, she had such a good time. Mind you, that was in LA, so -“

Sarah cuts you off with a gasp. “Wait, that was real? I heard about that! It was all over Twitter - Barbie and Ken on roller skates in LA, Barbie in a pink cowboy outfit-“

“Yes!” You exclaim, excited - “she told me all about it! She chose the cowboy outfit ‘cos it reminded her of me, you know. We’re best friends.” 

You’re showing off a little now, but you don’t care - it feels good to talk, to be believed.

Sarah watches you in awe. “Wow. So this is, like, real. This is real? You’re Barbie. Where’s Ken?”

“Oh, he had to stay back at home. Well, he didn’t have to, he would’ve come if I asked him to. He’s really sweet. I just… I didn’t wanna be a burden.” You explain, grateful he hadn’t seen you crying like this now you think about it.

“But isn’t he, like, your boyfriend? I’m sure he wouldn't mind.” Sarah replies.

“Oh, he isn’t my boyfriend,” you giggle at the thought. “No, no, we don’t really do that in Barbieland. Everyone’s their own person and makes themselves happy, no need for boyfriends and girlfriends. Even the Kens!”

“Rad,” Sarah grins, liking the sound of Barbieland. “So… why are you here?”

You reply honestly, there’s no use in skirting around it anymore. “Well… I feel what you feel, Sarah. And when you’re sad, and lonely, I feel that too. That’s why I came, to help you feel better.”

“Oh.” It’s all she says.

“Why do you feel like that?” Your tears have stopped by now, your face left red and puffy. You try not to start up again as you watch her face twist at your question.

“Just… stuff. With my dad. He’s never here anymore, always at work. It used to be just me and him against the world, you know? And now it feels like… like it’s just me.”

You pout, rubbing a hand on her knee. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean it, Sarah. You always have each other, just like the watch says.” 

You smile, trying to be as comforting as possible, but it’s quickly wiped away by the look of shock on her face. 

You’re about to ask her what’s the matter when a southern drawl sounds from behind you, “how do you know that?”

You turn, facing Joel who stands on the steps of the porch, a hand on the railing. Your nerves set in again immediately, and you turn in on yourself, trying not to cry.

“Um, the watch, the one from Sarah. That’s what it says, right?” You can see that very watch strapped to Joel’s wrist, the glass broken, and he brings his other hand to touch it. 

“No one else knows what’s written on that watch,” Sarah says, and you whip around to face her, “holy shit, this is really, really real, isn’t it? You’re her?”

You just nod, and she lets out a laugh, springing forward to hug you. You yelp in surprise but hug her back immediately, revelling in the feeling of wet grass hitting your back. Sarah pulls away, looking up at her Dad with pleading eyes, “come on Dad, you know this is real. She’s real. We have to let her stay.”

You sit up again, grabbing your hat and standing, facing Joel though your eyes stay trained on the floor. He’s silent for a long time, thinking, before he grunts and you can just about make out a whisper of “fine” as Sarah celebrates and leads you back into the house.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

You stay there a few days, mostly keeping out of Joel’s way. They set you up in the spare bedroom, but Sarah comes to get you most nights, and you stay up together having sleepovers and telling stories.

You tell her all about Barbieland, about the beautiful beaches and all-woman Supreme Court, the Dreamhouses and the perfectly blue skies. She tells you about her life, the latest drama at school, about Brad the boy who won’t leave her alone and Jenny, her best friend who definitely fancies Brad. It’s incredibly exciting, and you wonder why you never left for the real world sooner.

Barbara’s ecstatic for you, of course; she’s staying in a nearby hotel for as long as you need her there, you even plan to introduce her to Sarah soon.

You wake up one morning, covered in a duvet somewhere in the corner of Sarah’s room, a host of her other old toys laid out where she’d been explaining each one to you last night. You wondered if there’s a Thomas The Tank Engine Land, too.

There are voices downstairs, and for all the rules of politeness and social expectations you’ve learned, you can’t help but tiptoe to the top of the landing and listen in to the conversation. To make sure Sarah’s okay, more than anything.

“Oh come on, Dad. It’s just one day!” Sarah almost shouts, though it’s obvious she’s trying to keep her voice down. They both are.

“Sarah, I gotta go to work. How the hell am I meant to keep a walking-talking Barbie doll entertained for 7 hours, huh? You want me to talk about makeup and glitter?” Joel’s voice is thick and annoyed, though he’s noticeably gentler when he talks to her.

Sarah scoffs, and you can’t see her, but you know she’s rolling her eyes. “She’s more than that, Dad. She’s smart, and she’s caring. Just - just do this for me, okay? And as soon as I’m back from school, I’ll take her off your hands.”

You can’t see them, but you hear their footsteps walk a little closer to the stairwell. “Fine, fine. Whatever. You better go and wake her up then, cos I gotta leave in 20,” Joel resigns.

You see the top of Sarah’s head from your view between the bannisters, and quickly hurry back to her room and under the sheets. She enters, sitting beside your spot on the floor and whispering, “Barbie? Hey Barbie, wake up!”

You feign tiredness, lifting your head and smiling at the girl. “Oh hey, Sarah, good morning.”

She giggles, and you’re quickly aware of your bedhead, something you never experienced in Barbieland. She talks as you grab a brush and fix yourself up.

“So look, I gotta go to school today. But my Dad agreed to take you with him to work so you’re not on your own… is that okay?” 

She must see the slight panic in your eyes,  as she quickly scrambles to reassure you. 

“I know he was a bit of a hot head when you first met him, but he’s just… protective. But he’s sweet, really. Just give him a chance.”

You think about it for a moment. Barbara is still staying nearby, and you know she’d come and hang out with you while you wait for Sarah to come home if you asked. But then again, maybe it’d be good to spend some time with Joel/ It’s obvious that a lot of what brought you here comes down to their relationship, and if you can help to fix that even just a little bit, then your journey will have been worth it.

“Okay,” you answer, giving Sarah a small smile. She grins, standing up and grabbing her school bag before shouting over her shoulder as she leaves the room, “great! He’s going in 20 minutes… better get ready!” 

You gasp, jumping up from your little nest on the floor and searching through the duffel bag Barbara packed for you of outfits to wear, all western-themed of course.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

Car rides with Joel are… awkward, to say the least. 

He drives in silence, no radio, just the slow drone of traffic outside echoing between you, whistling through the open windows.

His car is very different to the ones in Barbieland. It doesn’t have an open top, the seats are worn and rough to the touch. The smell of coffee and cigarettes hangs in the air, and though you’re not used to it, you still find it comforting. Safe.

You reach for the radio, looking for a tune to play and maybe even sing - you’re sure that’ll cheer him up. But he stops you, not hurting you at all but batting your hand away and finally taking his eyes off the road.

“Don’t touch that,” he grunts, and you shrink back in on yourself again. He recoils a little, like he’s trying to appear less aggressive, and refocuses on the road.

“Sorry,” you mutter, shy.

He shakes his head, resting his elbow on the window beside him and readjusting himself, clearly uncomfortable. Whether it’s you or just the way he’s sat, you don’t know.

“‘S fine,” he mutters, barely audible. You nod, unsure of what else to say after that. You’re not looking at him, though you can see his movements in the edge of your peripheral, and you’re certain you can see him glancing at you every couple of minutes.

He finally speaks again after a long span of silence. 

“So…” he starts, tentative. “Is it hard to get here? From- from Barbieland?”

You turn, though he isn’t facing you, eyes trained on the road. You keep looking at him anyway - this is progress at least.

“It’s pretty simple. First you drive, then you cycle, then take a boat, then a rocketship, then you stay in a campervan for a little while, then a snowmobile and voila! You’re rollerskating into LA.” You grin, recounting your adventure into the real world, happy to be able to share it with him. You’re not sure what it is about him, but there’s just something inside of you that’s desperate for him to get you. To care. 

Joel just grunts, rubbing his thumb and forefinger between his brows, and you’re worried for a second that he doesn’t believe you, again. But he doesn’t press, instead he seems to be thinking, and then he asks another question.

“How do you get back?”

“Gotta do all that in reverse,” you answer, giggling. You’re sure you can see the slightest pull of his lips, the hint of a smile, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared.

You decide to try and engage him, let him talk. “Do you like what you do? For work?”

He just grunts again, and your shoulders sink, giving up. He doesn’t want to talk to you. 

You decide not to press him further, but you can see him continue to glance at you a few times out of the corner of your eye, and there must be something in the air because he sighs before talking, a vulnerability in his voice.

“I used to. My Dad did it, contracting. Used to take me and my brother out every weekend and show us the trade. And when I started my business, that was good. Things were good. Now…” he trails off with a sigh.

“Things aren’t good?” You ask, trying to be careful. Trying to encourage him. 

He nods. “Things are different, now. Busy. It’s a hard business.”

You don’t reply, not because you don’t want to, but because you’re not sure how. Joel doesn’t seem to mind. After a few moments, he pulls up at a red light, switching gears and finally looking at you properly. 

“What do you do? In Barbieland?”

“Cowgirl,” you reply, being the one to avoid his gaze now.

“Cowgirl?” He repeats, and you only nod, offering a small smile and waiting for his reaction.

“So is that, like, on a ranch?” 

He’s switching gears again, cruising through the now green light and continuing the drive, muttering something about ‘almost there’ as you arrive in an upscale neighbourhood, lined with huge houses and cars that even the Barbies don’t have.

You shrug, self conscious, but you answer him. You owe him that. He did it for you. 

“No, just… you know. I wear the hat, and the denim and the boots. And I just… cowgirl. That’s what I do.”

He nods, and for the first time since you met him, you’re not nervous about what he’ll say next. You feel comfortable with him, safe even, and you’re not sure what it is about this little drive that’s flipped that switch, but you think he might feel the same way.

“Does it pay well?” He asks, a playfulness in his tone that you haven’t seen in him before. It’s like he’s lit up over the course of your conversation.

You grin, meeting his eyes properly now, where he draws away for a moment at a time to check the road but lets his gaze fall back on you straight after. 

“Better than contracting,” you sass. You’re not sure where the cockiness comes from, whether you’re matching his tone or you just feel that comfortable with him, and for a moment you’re worried you’ve offended him with the joke.

But then he laughs.

It’s not hysterics, but it isn’t an amused ‘huff’ either. It’s like a giggle, a bright, giddy laugh that spreads across his face and makes his eyes light up like stars in the sky. It’s beautiful. It’s sweet.

You tell him as much.

“You have a pretty smile.”

He slows a little, his mouth quickly reigning in its smile and his chest no longer bubbling with that sweetness it had before. But he doesn’t look angry, or offended. He looks as though he’s not quite sure what to do. Like no one’s ever told him that before.

“Thank you,” he whispers, the words quickly blowing away with the wind through the open window. You smile in reply, and he watches, neither of you seeming to notice that he’s stopped the car and you’ve reached your destination. Neither of you move.

And then he says the sweetest words you’ve ever heard. 

“So do you.”

It’s gentle, mumbled so lowly you almost think he doesn’t want you to hear it, and yet it hits you in the chest like a lorry. 

You’ve been told that before, of course you have. You’re a Barbie. Whether it’s the other Barbies complementing one another, or the Kens trying to flirt, or Allen just being the nice guy he is, you’ve heard those words before. 

But you’ve never heard them like this, like they’re hard to say, but they need to be said anyway. 

It’s powerful.

You smile again, so does he. You stay in the car a little while longer, in silence again, but it’s a silence laced with comfort and feelings you don’t know how to label. Until he finally breaks the spell, climbing out of the car and helping you out on your side.

He spends the day showing you his work, how to plan builds, how to measure up wood and mark all the right places to cut it. You learn there’s a key named after Allen, and Joel snorts when you tell him how excited you are to let him know that. He even lets you hammer a few nails, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart flutter when he puts his arms around you to guide your movements, his breath in your ear.

And things are good after that day. Really good.

The three of you spend time together, as much as you can, almost like a family. You’ve never experienced family before, true family, but when you’re sat on the sofa with Sarah on a cushion on the floor and Joel to your side, just out of reach, you wonder if this is what it means to be home.

Of course, you quickly understand what Sarah means when she says she’s lonely. You know exactly where that feeling in your chest is coming from, because the times he’s with you are so fleeting, so far and few inbetween, that it feels like gold dust when you have him and like a black hole when you don’t.

And it’s only been a week before you realise just what it means, these feelings, and how they’re not like anything you’ve felt before.

Sarah reads you like a book, cornering you one day as you play dress up in her room. 

“So, you like my Dad?” She asks, a knowing smirk already painted on her lips.

You splutter for a moment, trying to think of a rebuttal, but you give up because you know she has you nailed down. You know she knows.

“Is it that obvious?” You wince, making her grin spread even further. 

“Only, like, all the time,” she laughs, and you flip down on the bed dramatically, making her laugh more. “You know he likes you too, right?”

You sit up again in a flash, eyes wide and searching hers. She raises a brow as you stare, your mind racing - she wouldn’t joke about that, would she? “How do you know?” You ask.

She rolls her eyes, taking a seat beside you on the bed. “Oh come on, man. It’s so obvious. He always talks about you, Barbie said this, Barbie did that’.” She mocks his deep southern drawl, making you giggle. “And he’s always looking at you.”

You blush - you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed. You suppose a part of you just never let yourself believe he could feel the same way.

“What do you think I should do?” You’re nervous now, unsure of yourself. Unsure if this is real.

Sarah smiles, a cheeky sort of grin that doesn’t make you feel particularly at ease, and pats your knee with her hand. “Leave it with me.”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

She calls you down that night, late, not long after Joel came home from work. You switch off the documentary you were watching, something about the animal kingdom, one that amazed you with all the creatures that walk the earth around you. 

You tiptoe down the stairs, calling out Sarah’s name when you can’t find her in the front room, confused. You hear her again, distantly, like she’s outside, and you follow the sound through the kitchen and out the back door, where you’re greeted with the alluring smell of a sizzling barbecue.

“What is this?” You ask, stepping fully outside and taking in the scene. The backyard, usually overgrown and unkept, is littered with fairylights that wrap around the patio columns and line the fence right down to the end. The Miller’s barbecue is fired up, with an array of vegetable skewers and sausages and burgers cooking on top, Sarah proudly stood beside it in her apron while Joel watches, concerned.

Joel. He’s sat at the little table she’s put together, a round glass one with mismatched chairs on either side. He’s dressed up - his hair looks neater than usual, like he’s put extra care into styling it properly. His shirt isn’t plaid, or denim; it’s a light blue colour that matches the brown of his eyes so wonderfully. He looks nervous.

“Hi,” he says, gentle and soft. Your eyes must be wide and confused, because he doesn’t say anything else, just looks at Sarah for support. She rolls her eyes - again - and puts down the tongs she’d been using to flip the burgers. 

“You two are so boring pining over each other. So, I’ve set up a date!” She grins, turning back to the food without a care in the world.

You nod, taking another step forward, looking back toward Joel and not bothering to fight the smile that spreads on your face. 

He doesn’t fight his, either. 

You reach out for the chair opposite him, but before you can, he’s standing up and pulling it out for you, his eyes meeting yours.

Not one of the Kens have ever pulled out a seat for you, you think, thanking Joel and sitting on the little chair. He returns to his own seat, clearing his throat and pouring you a drink; red wine, a new favourite of yours since he introduced you to it. 

Sarah plates up the food, setting it down in front of you in a dramatic waiter-style fashion. 

“You’re certainly my daughter, huh?” Joel asks, pride in his eyes as he looks at the food, which you have to admit looks pretty damn good.

“The student has become the master,” she quips, and your heart melts at the sweet moment between the two. 

“Now, you two enjoy. I’ll be in my room. If you need anything… get it yourself. The kitchen is literally right there.”

You and Joel roll your eyes as Sarah bows out, laughing at her own jokes and giving a final wave as she heads into the house, leaving you both alone.

“So,” you begin, unsure of what to say.

“So.” Joel mimics, though you don’t think he plans to say anything after that. He’s not one to initiate conversation.

But then again, people can change. 

“You look really nice,” he says, his eyes so heavy set on you that it makes you feel flush. You look down, at the old baggy top you’re wearing over grey sweats, and you’re suddenly self conscious compared to his nice shirt and carefully-put hair.

“I don’t,” you reply, embarrassed. “I look like a mess.”

He interjects immediately. “No. You don’t. How could you? I mean you’re literally - you’re -“ he can’t find his words.

You finish the sentence for him. “A Barbie.”

“Yeah.”

You’re not sure why it makes you feel the way that it does. Sad. Like you’re not quite real to him, a novelty. He sighs, and for all the time you’ve spent with him by now, you can’t read what’s going on behind the man’s eyes at all.

You sit in silence for a short while, enjoying Sarah’s food, drinking wine. There’s something hanging in the air, heavy and strange, and neither of you know how to address it.

It surprises you when Joel finally breaks the silence again. “Do you miss home?” He asks, pouring you another glass.

You think for a moment. You answer honestly. “I don’t know.” His eyebrow quirks, motioning for you to continue.

“There was a time when I’d have never even dreamed of leaving Barbieland. When I didn’t want anything to change. But things are different now, since Ster- since Barbara left. Everyone thinks differently, feels differently. It’s a very different place. And suddenly everything that made me love Barbieland doesn’t matter to me anymore. The perfect wardrobe, the perfect house, the perfect life. None of that matters. It’s the things here, in this world, that matter.”

“What things?” Joel asks, and it’s only now that you notice his hand has migrated across the table, holding your much smaller one. You wrap your fingers around his, revelling in the small squeeze he gives you, fighting back a smile.

You’re staring at your interlocked hands when you answer. “Family. Purpose.” 

You look at him. “Love.”

He breathes out, like he’s letting something go, something that made him scared but doesn’t anymore. You squeeze his hand.

The rest of the night goes smoothly. It’s sweet, comfortable. It’s nice. 

Until you put your foot in it.

“Do you still feel lonely?” Joel asks, the buzz of red wine making his drawl even heavier.

You smile, glossy eyes doting on him, hands still intertwined. “Well, I felt lonely because Sarah felt lonely. So… no. I feel good.”

Joel frowns, his head tilts. “Do you know why she felt like that?”

You’re not sure how to approach this with him. It’s something you’ve thought about, pondered for days, turned over and over in your mind with no good resolution.

You know exactly why she felt like that. She told you as much.

My Dad’s never here. He’s always away, working. I don’t see him.

But you also know it’s a truth he won’t accept. Not easily, at least.

“Well,” you begin, treading lightly. “I think she just… misses you, Joel. Misses her Dad.”

He’s confused. He pulls away from you, his grip on your hand loosens. “But I’m here.” It’s an assertion, challenging your suggestion.

“I know, I know. But you’re not… you’re not here. You come home from work late, you’re tired, you go to bed. You wake up and before we can even say ‘good morning’ you’re out the door again, going to work.”

His jaw flickers, in that same way it did when you first met. He’s angry. 

“I do what i have to do to support my family,” he grumbles, fully retracting his hand now. You feel the loss of his touch instantly, in your heart. 

That same loneliness sets in again, but it’s not Sarah’s anymore. No, it belongs solely, wholly, to you.

You try to placate him. “I know, Joel, I know. I get it. I just -”

“Just what?” He interrupts you, and you pause, scared to speak. Scared to mess this up.

“She needs you to talk to her. She needs you to listen to her. She needs you to hold her and let her know she’s not alone. She doesn’t see that right now, Joel.”

He doesn’t reply, just stares into space, arms folded. Guarded.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“‘That how it works in Barbieland? Everyone gets what they want, everyone’s happy?” He asks, agitated.

You shake your head. “No, Joel, I-”

“‘Cos that’s not how the real world works, sweetheart. Everythin’ ain’t perfect. The trees ain’t made of cotton fuckin’ candy.” He sneers, mocking you, and the words pierce through you like knives.

“And I ain’t taking parenting advice from no Barbie doll.” 

That really, really hurts.

And it makes you angry, because for all your faults and weaknesses, being a Barbie certainly isn’t one of them.

“Why are you being so defensive?” You ask, your tone rising to match his. “You know I'm right. All that girl wants is her Dad, not a stranger who’s barely there, not a ghost that puts food on the table but won’t even come home on time for her. She wants her Dad, Joel.”

He stands, slamming his palms on the glass with so much force you fear it’ll shatter. He doesn’t shout, but his words are sharp, pointed, and they land exactly where he intended them to.

“You have no idea what it’s like. You’re stuck in your fantasy world, where everything’s pink, but you haven’t got a clue what it’s like to live in the real world. So why don’t you head back to your special Barbieland and leave the actual living, the hard parts, to the rest of us, huh?”

Tears threaten to spill on your cheeks, your eyes burning from the strain of holding them back. “Joel, you don’t mean that-”

“Yes, I do. Just… just get out of my house.” 

He walks away from the table, crossing his arms and facing away from you, staring out into the night. You nod, to yourself if no one else, breaking your strength as a sob racks through your body. You clasp a shaking hand to your mouth, not wanting him to hear you, but you see the way his shoulders clench. He heard. 

He doesn’t react further, though. Doesn’t turn. Doesn’t make sure you’re okay.

So you do what he said. You leave.

You stalk past Sarah, wiping away the onslaught of tears that have taken hold now, ignoring her as she shouts between you and Joel. “Guys? What’s going on?”

She doesn't follow you upstairs, choosing to give you space and speak to her Dad instead, you think. You text Barbara, asking her to pick you up, and shove your clothes into your bag as quickly as you can in spite of your blurred vision and the messy hair that covers your face. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been, you’d have only thought seconds if you didn’t know Barbara’s hotel was at least 10 minutes away, but you hear her beep the horn from outside and follows its direction.

Sarah’s waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. You look down the hall, where Joel sits at the kitchen counter, arms still folded and head down.

“Please,” Sarah begs, “don’t go.” She’s crying, and it makes your heart hurt more.

“I have to.” 

You try to move past her, but she stops you, blocking the way with her body. “Sarah, I have to,” you repeat, choking on your own sobs.

“Why?” She shouts, hot tears staining her face. “My Dad told me what happened. You’re right. He’s wrong, he’s always wrong. He’s never here, but you are, and now you’re leaving me like everyone else. Like my Mom.”

Your nose scrunches. More tears fall. Your chest hurts. “I’m not your Mom, Sarah. And your Dad… he loves you. He loves you so much. Promise me you’ll remember that, okay? He loves you. I love you.”

She doesn’t stop you when you try to leave again. You all but run out the door, the once comfortable night air now painful as it hits your wet cheeks, ice cold. Barbara looks at you with more concern than you’ve seen her with before, more than when she discovered the Mojo Dojo Casa Houses, but you say nothing as you get in the car. You just stare straight ahead, and she drives.

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

“I’m so sorry, Barbie. I never thought it’d end like this.”

Barbara’s holding your hands, reluctant to let go. You don’t know when you’ll see her again. “It’s not your fault,” you reply, and it’s true. It’s not her fault. It’s yours.

“And it isn’t yours, Barbie,” she retorts, like she can read your mind. You just nod, unconvincing, but she doesn’t push it.

You hug her, for the millionth time since she took you home from Joel and Sarah’s house, since she flew back to LA with you. And now here you are, at Venice Beach with your roller skates on, going back to the place you’ve always called home.

So why does it feel like you’re going anywhere but?

“Thank you for everything, Barbara. I mean it.” You pull back, wiping a tear from her cheek and smiling the best you can, your own tears rolling down your face like the skaters behind you.

She smiles back, and though she doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t need to. You know she loves you. You know she’ll miss you.

And with that, you pull away, pushing on each skate until you’re rolling away from the real world and back into your own. Back where you belong, where you’re supposed to be. Where you’re actually wanted.

There are people pointing, laughing at you as you skate past them, but you don’t care. You haven’t cared about anything since last night.

You can see the snowscape ahead, the next part of your journey. Your next step towards Barbieland and a world of pink perfection.

A world that isn’t the same to you now.

You’re nearly there, about to switch skates for the snowmobile, when a familiar, desperate voice comes from behind you.

“Barbie! Barbie, wait!”

You brake, skates screeching on the ground, as you turn to search for him in the crowd.

And there he is, Joel, clinging to a ramp on the left side of the park with the most ridiculous pair of neon green roller skates you’ve ever seen.

“Joel?” You call, immediately rolling over to him when you realise how much he’s struggling. If you weren’t so filled with the joy of seeing him here, you’d laugh at the state he’s in; eyes wide and legs falling beneath him, clearly not used to roller skating. “What are you doing here?”

“I- I wanted to- jesus, if I could just stand up-” You giggle, and he shoots you a look, which just makes you laugh harder. You help him up, laying a gentle hand on his chest as he nearly falls again, your other hand clinging to his waist as he finally finds his balance.

He’s blushing, embarrassed, but there’s something else in his eyes as they finally settle on you and he sighs. “Barbie, I’m so sorry.”

You’re not sure where to look. At him, at your hands, at those ridiculous roller skates he’s wearing. Of course, you can’t pull your eyes from him, anyway.

“It’s - it’s okay. You were right anyway, I’m not-”

“No, no,” he interrupts, placing both hands on your cheeks and quickly stumbling as he loses his balance again without the support of the rail. You hold him, giggling as he almost brings you both down, though you manage to keep him upright and he laughs right there with you.

“Jesus, this is embarrassing,” he finally huffs, and your head falls against his chest. When you raise it again, he’s already looking at you, with those big brown eyes that you never want to forget.

“I wasn’t right. I was an asshole. A huge, insecure asshole.” You try to shake your head, to disagree, but he doesn’t let you. “Just let me say this,” he begs. You let him.

“You were right. I haven’t been there for her. I haven’t been the Dad she needs me to be. I’m just… I’m just scared. Of not being good enough. Of letting her down. So I work, and come home late, and leave early, and I convince myself it’s the right thing to do. But I’m hurting her. And I hurt you.”

There’s pain in his eyes, and it pains you as if they were your own. 

“I haven’t seen Sarah this happy in a long time,” he continues, resting a hand on your cheek again, carefully this time. “Barbie, I haven’t been this happy in a long time.”

You don’t know what to say. You take your hand from his waist, tentative, making sure the other one is stable on his chest. You place it over his where it rests on your cheek, folding your fingers around his own, and turning to press a gentle kiss into his palm. He mumbles something, you don’t hear what, but from the look in his eyes you think you know.

“Don’t go,” he begs. “Don’t - don’t go back there. I want you here. You belong here.”

You look into his eyes. You know he means it. 

And so you do the only thing that makes any sense in this moment. 

You kiss him.

You’re careful to keep him upright, but he seems to have stopped caring about that; instead both hands are on you again, frantic, holding you tight like he never wants to lose you again.

When you finally break the kiss, neither of you pull away from one another, your foreheads connected and breaths intertwined. 

“Okay,” you gasp, pulling on his shirt. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

Joel closes his eyes again, sighing in relief as you finally release your other hand, touching it to his neck and feeling the rapid pulse that beats against it. You’re holding one another so closely, so tightly, that there’s no way he can fall now.

“You’ll come back to Texas?” He asks, like he still doesn’t quite believe you.

You nod again, giggling at the joy that spreads on his face, though it’s quickly muffled when he kisses you again. And again, and again and again until you’re breathless and sweaty and no longer sure which of you needs help staying upright the most.

You help him turn, wrapping your arms around his waist and supporting him as you try to make your way back across the park, and only then do you see Barbara and Sarah stood to the sidelines, watching, smiling.

You realise Sarah has her phone out, pointed at her Dad, and you’re pretty sure Joel sees it too but before he can say anything, he slips again and falls flat on his bum on the floor, bringing you right down with him.

You gasp, cushioned by his chest and his protective arms around you, laughing hysterically as he groans and sits up. You watch as his face turns from pain into anger, his eyes fixated on something ahead, and you think you know what it is-

“Sarah! Delete that video right now!”

♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡

Tag list: @vickie5446 @skysmiller @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @letmehavemyfictionalmen

[concreteangel92]

Hope this is ok for you ☺️ I do feel like I’ve rushed it ever so slightly but my connection in Egypt isn’t great unfortunately and I just wanted to get it up for you!

18+ below the cut!

Tags: @iloveyoubutifeellikeimdrowning @noahsebastions

Your best friend Noah had asked you to house sit for him while he was away on tour, of course you said yes, there wasn’t much you wouldn’t do for your best friend.

Everything had gone smoothly while he was away, you knew he was due back in a few days time.

Tonight you felt extremely bored as there was nothing to do within the house, nothing to watch on tv so you had decided to have a ‘self care night’ as you called it.

However you were struggling to get yourself worked up at all, no matter what you did, nothing seemed to help.

For some reason Noah flashed through you mind, what would he think if he knew what you were doing in his spare room? That thought alone caused a spark of arousal through your body.

“Well that’s not normal”

You pushed the worry away and allowed yourself to think of Noah, how handsome he is, how tall he is and how deep his voice is.

You sighed in frustration as you still struggled, you wished that your fingers could be replaced with Noah’s instead.

“I bet he’d be able to help”

Ignoring the logical part of your mind, you decided to go next door to Noah’s room, the thought of being able to smell his scent and know that you were in his bed was something you just couldn’t pass up, he was away so how would he even know?

You quickly moved into the room next to yours and got comfortable on his bed, feeling like you were about to be caught, although you knew that wasn’t the case, it definitely was helping your mood, the rush of doing something you knew you shouldn’t, in your best friends bed was too good not to explore.

You reached your hand down to your core and started to rub slow circles over your clit, the feeling now much more intense, the smell of Noah was all around you, you let yourself slip into a new fantasy of it being Noah’s hand instead of your own.

Your head fell back into his pillows as you let your moans fall from your lips, not caring to be quiet. Your fingers dipped lower and you slid one inside and felt how wet you truly were.

Your mind thought of Noah and how his fingers would stretch you out beautifully and how’d he’d no doubt talk you through it.

You slid one more finger inside and your other hand gently rolled your nipples, you could feel your high getting closer.

“Oh Noah…don’t stop”

“I haven’t even started yet”

Your eyes shot open and you sat yourself bolt upright at the sound of Noah’s voice, very much in the room with you.

Trying to cover yourself up as you felt your cheeks go bright red, you saw Noah leaning against his doorway with his arms crossed.

“Noah…I can explain…”

“Oh I can see what’s happening, you’re making a mess on my sheets instead of making a mess on me”

Your brows frowned together at his words as he stood himself upright and started to walk over.

“You’ve been a very bad girl y/n, and bad girls need to be punished.”

You sat in shock, was this really happening?

“If you want it that is? Because I’ll be honest, I’ve dreamed of nothing more then to get my hands on that ass of yours for a long time”

That snapped you out of it and you nodded your head, an ache starting immediately again in between your legs.

“On your knees for me baby, ass up”

You did as you were told and presented yourself up to him, not missing the groan that came from him as you felt his presence next to you.

“Now I’m only going to do 5 tonight, mostly because I’ve had a hard on ever since I heard your moans from down the hall and I can’t wait much longer to have you. Count for me angel and then I’ll bring your little fantasy to life”

You felt his hand rub over your cheeks almost lovingly before he spanked you hard.

“One!”

The impact alone had you clenching, his hand was so big and he certainly knew what he was doing.

“That’s my girl”

Noah brought his hand down fast on each cheek as you counted out “two! Three! Four!”

It stung beautifully and your body felt like it was on fire, you couldn’t wait to have him properly. Noah spanked you once more hard.

“Five!”

Noah ran his hands over your cheeks again before his fingers ghosted over your entrance.

“Fuck you’re absolutely soaked”

You pressed your head into your arms as you moaned softly.

“Noah please”

“I’ve got you baby”

You gasped and giggled when you felt Noah playfully bite down on your sore cheek before you heard his strip out of his clothes and he spread your legs wider.

You glanced back and seeing Noah’s body was mouthwatering and to see how hard and ready he was for you made you whimper in need.

Noah leant down and kissed you gently, seemly in no rush as you felt him line himself up, feeling him stretching you open.

You both cried out at the feeling, Noah’s hands settled on your hips before he started to thrust in and out of you, the sound of your own wetness hitting your ears and making you blush.

After getting yourself so worked up earlier and the spanking you’d just received, you knew you wouldn’t last long.

Noah suddenly pulled you back into his chest by your throat and quickened his pace, the new angle making you feel every inch of him.

“So, my naughty girl thought it was ok to mess my sheets up then?”

His thrusts were deep and his hand tightened around your throat just enough to make your head spin.

“I’m…I’m sorry No…Noah”

“Fuck….and what will my good girl do…shit…next time?”

You could feel your end approaching, his cock was hitting all the right spots and your brain was fuzzy from being choked while he spoke directly into your ear.

“I’ll come to you”

“That’s right baby, I’ll make sure we train you to behave from now on”

Your stomach twisted at his words while your thighs started to shake, tears formed in the corner of your eyes as you squeezed them shut. Noah reached his other hand down and rubbed fast on your clit while he continued to thrust into you and that was all it took to send you crashing over the edge.

Noah held you close to him while your body shook and you cried out, his hips faltering in his rhythm as he emptied himself inside you, his groans lost in your shoulder.

Your body went limp against his as he cuddled you to him, he slipped himself out and gently laid you both down on the bed, both still catching your breath.

You don’t miss the cheeky smile on his face a few moments later.

“Did I forget to mention that I was coming home early by the way?”

[parkerslatte]

Beauty

For @erisweekofficial Day 6: AU

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader (Regency AU)

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: sexism. mentions of illness.

Summary: Throughout their whole childhood, Y/N and Eris grew up with one another, always seeing one another from across the park that separated their houses. However as time goes on, Eris begins to distance himself and Y/N cannot work out why. After an unfortunate incident at a ball, Eris goes to check on Y/N and some truths come to light.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

Nineteen Years Ago

Two eight year olds lay in a shadowed part of a garden, their parents involved in boring adult chatter inside the house. The sun was beginning to set and while the children should be getting ready for a bath and bed, they were giggling happily, clothes stained with mun and pond water. 

“You liar!” Little eight year old Y/N exclaimed. 

“I’m not lying!” Eris Vanserra replied, nudging Y/N’s arm. 

“Yes you are!” Y/N said, crossing her arms over her chest. “And for that I’m telling your mother. My mother told me to never lie.”

“But I’m not lying, Y/N,” Eris pleaded. 

Y/N giggled. “But you said you wanted to marry me?”

“I do,” Eris said. “You are my best friend.”

“Do people marry their best friend?” Y/N asked.

Eris shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“If that is how it works then I will marry you,” Y/N said with a wide smile on her face, one of her front teeth missing. “People will be jealous because we will have the most fun at our wedding.”

Eris smiled. “It will be better than anyone elses. My dogs can be a part of it!”

Y/N gasped. “I wish we could get married now and make everyone jealous! It will be so much fun.”

Rain began to fall down upon the pair and Y/N giggled as the cold water hit her face. Eris stood to his feet and looked in the direction of the house. 

“I think our parents forgot about us,” Eris said. 

“Should we go and tell them about our wedding?” Y/N asked. “Or do you want to play out here more?”

Eris smiled and quickly nudged Y/N and ran away, laughing loudly. Y/N giggled and stood from the wet grass and chased after him, rain falling down around her. 

Present Day. 

The mirror before her presented an image she was used to. A plain girl with all hope and wonder gone from her eyes. At twenty seven years, Y/N is what many others would consider a spinster. She was not married, nor did she have any prospects. Being a spinster wasn’t what Y/N originally wanted for herself, she would always dream of her very own romance story from a very young age. A whole stack of paper was buried deep within her wardrobe detailing her dream life and wedding day. Y/N couldn’t bear to look at it any longer. 

“Are you ready to go?” her mother asked, coming into the room. 

Y/N let out a small sigh. “Do I really need to go to this ball? I already know it is going to turn out like any other.”

Her mother fiddled with the ends of her hair already falling out of its updo. “Y/N, we have spoken about this. You need to find a husband soon–”

“Mother, the men at these balls are not any different from the men last season. I know I am not on anyone’s mind in terms of marriage. I am ancient in their eyes,” said Y/N, straightening out her gown. 

“Perhaps this time will be different,” her mother suggested.

“We both know it won’t be,” Y/N said sadly. “You should just marry me off to Lord Ashington. I overheard him talking about me at the last ball.”

“Lord Ashington is ancient,” her mother said. “Y/N, I know I push you to marry but I don’t wish for you to end up in a marriage you are unhappy in. I want you to have a whirlwind romance I had with your father.”

“As much as I wanted that too mother, I think it is now time to look at the reality of my situation,” Y/N said. “I am no longer desirable in any man’s eye as I am not new and fresh to the marriage mart. I must settle for the first man with money to look my way. Lord Ashington is the route to go if I want to secure money to provide for you.”

Y/N fought the sting of tears, she turned her face away from her mother so she wouldn’t see but her attempts were futile. 

“Oh, my baby,” her mother said, wrapping her arms around Y/N. “This isn’t the life I wished for you.”

Y/N continued to cry against her mothers shoulder. If only Y/N could stay home then everything would be better. 

“I have a gift for you,” her mother said as she wiped Y/N’s tears away. “It was meant to be for your birthday but I can give it to you now.”

Her mother disappeared from the room for a minute before returning with a dress draped in white fabric. The moment the dress was unveiled, Y/N gasped at its sheer beauty. 

“I have been putting aside money to get it made for you,” her mother said. “I hope you like it.”

Y/N gently touched the fabric. “I love it.”

“If you wish to wear it tonight, I suppose I will allow it,” her mother said. 

Y/N wrapped her arms around her mother. “Thank you.”

***

By the time Y/N made it to the drinks table, her feet were aching and she was read to sleep, but even that couldn’t keep the smile from her face. The moment she had stepped into the ballroom, she had gathered more attention than she had in years. Y/N was sure she hadn’t danced this much since her first year in society. She forgot how much she enjoyed it. 

“I see you have made a few heads turn tonight,” a voice Y/N never thought she would hear again spoke. 

As she turned to face the source of the voice, Y/N felt a tightness in her chest. “What do you want?”

“A dance,” Eris answered. “With you.”

Y/N fought the urge to scoff. It had been years since she had exchanged words with Eris, and even longer since they had had a full conversation. As much as she hated to admit it, she missed the silky smooth tone of his voice. 

“My dance card is full,” Y/N answered. 

“I can see one space available,” Eris pointed out. “Y/N, please. Just one dance.”

Y/N sighed. “What do you want, Eris?”

“I am only asking for a dance,” Eris answered.

“No. What I meant was, why are you speaking to me? You’re the one who has gone out of your way to avoid me.”

Before Eris had the chance to even open his mouth, a handsome gentleman offered Y/N his hand. “May I have this dance?”

Y/N sent one final look towards Eris before placing her hand in the man’s. “You may.”

As Y/N made her way into the centre of the ballroom, she watched as Eris’s grip on his glass tightened and he looked away. Y/N turned her attention back to the man in front of her and plastered a bright smile on her face. Although for the whole duration of the dance, she couldn’t get the image of Eris out of her mind. 

***

“Y/N, it seems like you haven’t had a moment to yourself all night,” Iris, a woman a few years younger than Y/N, said. “All that dancing with so many suitors must have tired you out?”

Y/N nodded. “I suppose it did. I am quite sure I haven’t danced this much in years.”

“I wonder why,” another woman, Evangeline, said thoughtfully and shared a look with Iris. 

“Tonight you seemed to catch the eye of every single available suitor here,” Iris continued. “You could have left some for the rest of us.”

Y/N chuckled, although she was beginning to feel quite uncomfortable. “I have seen all of you on the dance floor. All of you are no shot of suitors yourself.”

“But none of us have caught the eye of Eris Vanserra,” Evangeline commented. “And you turned him down.”

Y/N shook her head. “I didn’t turn him down–”

“But I overheard you,” Evangeline siad, a wicked smirk appearing on her face. “He was so eager to dance and you turned him down only to run into the arms of the next man who spoke to you.”

“Eris and I have a…complicated past, I didn’t want to bring up past memories that are best left forgotten,” Y/N explained. 

Evangeline took a sip from her drink. “It must have been your dress.”

“My dress?” Y/N asked, confusion evident on her face. 

“I mean, how else would you capture Eris’s attention?” Evangeline said and Iris tried to hide her laugh. “Your hair is clearly not doing you any favours, it has already come away from its hairstyle. And you could have done something about those dark circles under your eyes.”

“What are you doing?” Y/N asked.

“I am just confused as to how a spinster has captured the attention of half of the ton. Your dress might be beautiful from far away but anyone with eyes can see how it is cheaply made,” Evangeline said. “Oh look, there is even a loose thread right here…”

Before Y/N could stop her, Evangeline pulled on the single loose thread and the lace decorating the edge of her bust fell away. Y/N gasped and dropped her drink, causing the class to shatter onto the floor. Everyone around the group looked her way. 

As Evangeline and Iris laughed, all Y/N could do was stand there. The burning from each and every eye on her was insufferable. Y/N held her hand to where the lace was falling away and fled the ballroom, quickly finding a small sitting room not too far away. The instruments from the ballroom were dull and barely audible as Y/N slumped down on the ornate settee and wiped the tears that had begun to fall. 

She wasn’t crying because of the embarrassment caused by Evangeline and Iris. Y/N was crying because of the runed dress. She hadn’t asked what her mother had paid for it and now it was ruined. Her mother rarely ever bought anything for herself for these past few months and now Y/N knew the reason why. Now that reason was ruined. 

The door to the sitting room opened and Y/N hastily stood up. 

“I am sorry for being in here, I can leave–Eris?” Eris stood in the doorway of the room, looking at Y/N with concern in his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see if you are alright,” Eris said. “Clearly you are not.”

“It’s nothing,” Y/N said. “Something silly.”

Eris’s eyes softened. “I guarantee it is not silly to garner this reaction from you. I know the girl I grew up with would rarely cry at anything.”

“I suppose I have quite a lot to cry about these days,” Y/N said. “I am no longer the girl you once knew Eris. You would have known that if you cared for me anymore.”

“Of course I care,” Eris said, stepping further into the room. 

Y/N scoffed. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

Slowly, Eris closed the door behind him. Y/N’s eyes widened. 

“What are you doing? If I am seen alone with you, do you know how it will ruin me?” Y/N exclaimed.

“Then I will say that you were quite ill and I found you passed out in the hallway on my way out and found you somewhere to rest your head and then I will swiftly take my leave when I know that you are in safe hands,” Eris said. 

“Why did you follow me, Eris? We haven’t spoken in years,” Y/N said, completely defeated as she sat down on the settee.

“I know,” Eris said, sadness lacing his tone. “And that will be one of the biggest regrets of my life.” 

Y/N watched out of the corner of her eye and Eris walked over to her and sat next to her. The settee was small enough that Y/N could feel the heat of Eris through his jacket. If she had still been Seventeen and so desperately in love, she would have inched closer. Alas, she was no longer Seventeen and she had larger things on her mind than a simple touch that still sent her senses into overdrive. 

The two sat in silence for a while, the sounds of the ballroom muffled. The tears Y/N had shed were now dried up and she was sure her eyes were now bloodshot and pink. She fiddled with the lace in her hands, more of it had come away from the bodice and the more it came away the more her heart sank. 

“You look beautiful tonight,” Eris said quietly. “I haven’t told you that yet.”

“I am sure you mean ‘looked’,” Y/N said. “I don’t feel beautiful right now.”

“You are,” Eris said with such a tenderness in his tone that it caused Y/N’s heart to skip a beat. “You always are.”

Y/N finally met Eris’s gaze and she felt herself melting. His gaze always had the power to do that. “What is bringing this on?”

“Does there need to be a reason?” Eris said. 

“Yes, because you have avoided me for years. You cannot simply talk to me out of nowhere and call me beautiful when the last time I tried to speak to you, you walked away from me and left me alone in the middle of the ballroom,” Y/N said. 

Eris looked at his lap almost shamefully. “I regret that, Y/N. I truly do. I wanted– want– nothing more than to speak with you, dance around ballrooms with you, talk with you until the dead of night.”

“What changed?” Y/N dared to ask. “Everything was going well, Eris. Even my mother thought we would end up engaged before I made my debut.”

Eris sighed. “Do you remember when your father passed away?”

Y/N nodded. She remembered that day vividly. Her mother was distraught and could barely keep herself together. Y/N depended on the maids to help her with her studies and making sure that her mother was okay. When Eris learned of the news, he moved into Y/N’s house for nearly three months. His father never gave his permission but Eris would defy any order his father gave him to help Y/N. 

“Well after he passed, my father noticed your mother taking money from your dowry to pay the maids and staff. He only noticed this change as your mother came to him for help once as your father always did all the finances. Once he noticed the low sum in your dowry, he didn’t want me anywhere near you incase your mother thought of the idea to marry you off to me to claim money from the Vanserra’s,” Eris explained. 

Y/N shuffled away. “The reason you avoided me was all because I was a burden to you.”

“Not at all,” Eris said quickly, inching his hand closer to her. “Please let me finish.”

There was no deceit on his face, he seemed truthful. Slowly, Y/N nodded.

“When he told me to stay away, I told him to stay out of my business, although not as kind as that.”

Y/N couldn't help herself but let out a quiet laugh. A small smile appeared on Eris’s face. 

“Anyway, after that I continued to see you and came by your house almost every single day after that,” Eris said. “You were my best friend, someone who I love dearly. I could not simply stay away from you. It was torture.”

“Then why did you avoid me after that night you came to me?” Y/N said. 

Thinking back to the night of her seventeenth birthday, Y/N always looked back on it with fondness but as time went on it became more and more painful. Did she do something wrong? Was she not what Eris wanted? Was she undesirable?

“You knew how my life could have been ruined if anyone found out what we did, Eris,” Y/N said. “I allowed you to kiss me. I allowed you to take me to bed.”

“I know and I wish I could go back in time and propose to you right there and then,” Eris admitted. “I was ready to as well. My mother gave me her engagement ring.”

Her heart sank to her feet. “What?”

“That night I was going to propose to you, Y/N,” Eris said. “I didn’t care that you hadn’t made your debut yet. I didn’t care that my father was so obsessed with even more money. I didn’t care about any of that because all I could care about was how much I loved you.”

“Then why didn’t you propose?” Y/N asked. 

“The weekend of your birthday, my father was out of town on business and it was only my mother and brothers in the house. All of my brothers were all too young to really care about what I was doing and my mother was glad to be rid of my father for a while and she went to visit an old friend. But that night I brought you into my bed, my father came home early. Since it was just my mother and brothers, we didn’t close the door properly, he saw the both of us,” Eris said, his hand anxiously twitching in his lap. 

Y/N’s eyes widened. “He saw us? Why did you never tell me?”

Eris shrugged. “I couldn’t. He made me promise that if I didn’t propose to you and abandoned my entire friendship with you then he would keep what he saw to himself. If I didn’t then he would tell the ton and you and your mother would have been ruined.”

“I fought of course,” Eris said. “I said that if he released that information, I would marry you on the spot and tell everyone that we had been engaged since before your birthday. I would have needed to make up a date but the plan would have worked. But my father made another threat. If I followed through with that plan then he would cut me off. I would be penniless and kicked out onto the streets. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t drag you down with me.”

“Eris,” Y/N said. “Why did you never tell me any of this?” 

“I was afraid of my father finding out,” Eris said. “I never wanted you at the centre of any negative gossip.”

“We might have been only seventeen, Eris, but I would have happily lived on the streets with you than live the nightmare of trying to find a husband,” Y/N said.

“But I wouldn’t have wanted that life for you, Y/N,” Eris said. “I wanted to be able to provide for you and make sure you have all the luxuries you deserved.”’

Y/N gently placed her hand on top of Eris’s. “All I wanted was you. I didn’t care about wealth or social status, not when I was around you.”

Eris squeezed her hand. “I always knew you would say that. But I could not let that happen. When I imagined my life with you, I always imagined living in a large house in the countryside. I imagined being able to provide for you, treating you to extravagant dresses that I knew you would ruin when you gardened. I imagined children running around that would look exactly like you. They would grow up in a loving home, safe and secure.” 

Eris paused. “I still imagine all of that to this day. There are some days that I ponder the life I would be having right now if my father never saw us that night and I went through with my proposal. I think of the children we might have. I think of the home we would be living in. I think of how much happier I would be with you by my side.”

“You still think about us?” Y/N asked.

Eris nodded. “Constantly. Lately I have avoided going to balls because I know I would see you and my restraint lately is wearing quite thin.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Y/N asked. “If your father finds out that you are alone with me, won’t he follow through on his promise?”

“I am here alone tonight,” Eris said. “My mother has kept this gossip from spreading all around the ton, but my father is quite ill. Doctors say that he might not make it to the end of the season.”

There was no emotion on Eris’s face as he spoke. She couldn’t decipher how he felt about the matter. 

“And how do you…feel about this news?” Y/N asked carefully.

“Honestly?” Eris asked. Y/N nodded. “Honestly I feel relieved. I know I shouldn’t because he is my father but he has always felt like a stranger to me. Even when I was a child he never took any interest in me and the only time he did was to make sure I was fit to run the household in the future. Is that an awful thing to say?”

Y/N shook her head. “I don’t think so. I remember how your father was, he was never kind nor welcoming.”

Eris sighed. “I am sorry, Y/N. I came in here to comfort you and instead I have turned this whole ordeal about me.”

Y/N offered him a small smile. “Well, it was relevant information.”

Eris chuckled. “Yes, I suppose it was. Now, if you wish to be left alone, I perfectly understand and I shall leave you alone in peace.”

There was one question still swirling around Y/N’s head. One question she had wanted answered for many years. 

“Did you still love me?” Y/N asked. 

Eris looked confused for a moment. There was a long pause before he answered. 

“Of course I do,” Eris said. “Were you even listening to my confession that I still think of the life we would have had together?”

Y/N laughed and nudged Eris. “Of course I was. I wanted to hear you say it.”

“Do you wish to hear it again?” Eris asked. “Because I will happily comply.”

Y/N nodded and Eris stood from his seat and bent down on one knee. “Y/N L/N. I love you.”

“Eris, what are you doing?” Y/N asked. 

“Something I should have done a long time ago,” Eris answered. “I know that we still have a lot to talk about. I know that there are still things to work through. But I love you Y/N and I cannot live without you in my life any longer. Tonight has been torture, watching other men dance with you and make you smile and laugh, I wished I was in their place. But unlike those men, I know how to make you really smile and laugh. I know your deepest fears and greatest ambitions. I know how you like your tea. I know how you got that small scar on your bicep. I know exactly how you like to be kissed.”

Y/N felt a blush creep up her cheeks. 

“I know more about you than those suitors ever will. What I am asking you Y/N L/N, is if you will marry me?”

On the surface, Y/N knew she shouldn’t accept this proposal. For years, Y/N had been left believing that she wasn’t good enough for Eris, that she wasn’t good enough for anyone. But something deep within her only wanted him, she always had ever since she knew what love really was. Even in the times when Eris avoided her, she sometimes thought back to their friendship and stolen kisses. She thought about how much she missed him. 

“You don’t need to accept. I can leave this room and we can pretend like I never proposed,” Eris reassured.

Y/N wasn’t sure what to say but the words that came out of her mouth were not what she was expecting.

“Technically we are already engaged,” Y/N blurted out. 

“What?” Eris said, looking confused.

“You proposed to me when we were eight,” Y/N said. “We were going to have a wedding everyone would be jealous of.”

Eris’s eyes brighten in recognition. “I remember that. I was only a child but I didn’t even fully understand the concept of marriage. But I knew that I always wanted you to be with me.”

Y/N smiled. “I have a stack of paper hidden in my wardrobe detailing every part of the wedding I would have had with you.”

Eris laughed. “Perhaps we can put those plans to use after all.”

Something within Y/N knew that the next words to come out of her mouth were the right words and the words that would change her life for the better. 

“I think we need to rework some of the plans but overall, I think they could work,” Y/N answered.

A small look of uncertainty flashed across Eris’s face. “Are you accepting my proposal, Y/N?”

“Yes I am,” Y/N said. “I will marry you Eris. We still have things to discuss but we can do that another night. Tonight, let us celebrate.”

A long sigh of relief left Eris as the weight of the world seemed to be lifted. “I believe that is a good idea.”

Y/N stood to her feet while Eris remained kneeled before her. Y/N gently touched his chin, tilting his head. He was so beautiful. 

“I don’t have a ring,” he muttered. 

“You don’t need to worry about that now,” Y/N said. “I doubt you thought you would be proposing tonight.”

“No, I didn’t,” Eris replied. 

He slowly stood to his feet and Y/N now tilted her head to look at him. They stood nearly chest to chest and Y/N felt her breathing get heavier. 

“Here,” Eris said, pulling off his silver signet ring. “Wear this until I can get you your engagement ring.”

As Eris slipped it onto her finger, everything suddenly became real. Eris was really her fiance. She was an engaged woman. The man standing before her would soon be her husband. When she stood in front of her mirror earlier that evening, Y/N felt like she was scraping the bottom of the barrel, not she felt as if she were on the top of the world. It was a feeling she could get used to. 

The ring on her finger was slightly loose but it still felt right. Y/N looked up at Eris who was looking down at her with so much love in his eyes. Y/N couldn’t help but lean forward to rest her forehead on his. 

“I love you, Y/N,” Eris whispered, his breath fanning her face. 

Y/N wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly, breathing in his familiar scent. It immediately put her at ease. 

“Shall we announce to everyone that we are engaged?” Eris asked. 

“Would we be able to stay here just a moment longer?” Y/N asked. “As much as I would love to wipe the smirks from Evangeline and Iris’s faces, I still haven’t processed everything properly.”

Eris nodded and leaned forward. Y/N was expecting his lips to fall upon her own, when they didn’t she found herself to be quite disappointed. Although his lips were soon pressed against her cheek. 

“We can stay here for as long as you like,” Eris replied. 

Y/N smiled and held out her hand. The music from the ballroom was dull and faint but it was still audible. “Then how about a dance with your future wife.”

Eris smirked and took her hand in his. “I like the sound of that.”

As Eris danced with her in the sitting room, Y/N smiled and laughed genuinely for what felt like the first time in a long time. She let go and had fun. The weight that she had been pulling around with her for years had finally been lifted. 

Despite her and Eris still needing to work things out, she finally relaxed in his arms and allowed herself to feel that childlike glee she had when her and Eris would dance around the day room when they were younger. The steps were messy yet everything was more than perfect. 

“Future husband,” Y/N mused. “I quite like the sound of that.”

When Eris quickly pecked her lips, Y/N was not able to process it until he was pulling away and heading to the door. 

“Let us go so I can tell the world that you are to be my wife,” Eris said impatiently. 

Y/N smiled and allowed him to take her hand in his. When she followed him to the ballroom, everything else became a blur as she was swept up in a dance with Eris. Despite the lace hanging off her dress and the redness around her eyes. She had never felt so beautiful before. Not because of the man spinning her around the ballroom floor but because of the way the man made her feel. He made her feel like herself again. She made her feel whole. 

“Future husband,” Y/N muttered.

“Future wife,” Eris replied as the dance came to an end. 

There was no one else in the room as Eris took a step forward and pulled Y/N into a kiss. Gasps echoed around them but Y/N didn’t care about being proper. She didn’t care that this gossip would spread around the ton. After all, they were already engaged, there wasn’t much that could run either of them now. 

As Eris pulled away he uttered three simple words against her lips.

“You are beautiful.”

For the first time in a long time Y/N truly felt it. 

[wordbunch]

how you pamper them when they're stressed/overworked

a/n: requested by the sweet @almost-gabrielle, i hope you enjoy it, and everyone else too - it's going to be GIGANTIC! 😍 be nice, cause I included some characters I haven't written much before (exciting!!!) and if you reblog with a comment or a nice tag... i'll love you forever! 💖 that means a lot, and i'm very grateful for all of it 🥰

ARAGORN: he actually feels like that quite often, but he’s incredibly good at hiding it. Luckily, you’re an expert in reading him like an open book, but oftentimes you need to literally physically drag him away from whatever he is doing (and he might complain as you do so). Aragorn just enjoys sometimes being quiet with you, and it’s usually what he needs when his mind is racing, or his body is overexerted. Or both. You can just lie down together and run your fingers slowly through his hair, and that will help him forget his worries at least for a little while. Secretly he is an absolute sucker for sweet, romantic confessions of love and affection, and he will melt if you whisper sweet nothings in his ear.

LEGOLAS: something has to be extremely serious for him to feel that way, because his limits are very high; but in those moments he just wants to get away from everything as soon as possible and run to you, because with you the rest of the world just fades away. He enjoys an outing in nature, far away from real life, especially if the two of you find a nice lake or river to go for a swim in, and eventually act like a couple of children splashing and chasing each other. If that doesn’t help, he likes to sit in front of you and let you braid his hair as he talks about whatever is on his mind, and it also helps him physically relax to have you sitting behind and so close to him.

BOROMIR: this man will most likely push himself to his absolute limits, because he shoulders too much responsibility and feels pressured constantly to be on top of things. However, it’s easy to notice when he becomes a bit more irritable at one point, and then you know it’s time to talk him into taking at least a little break. That can be a slippery slope, because once he gets you alone for 5 minutes, it can very easily turn into 15 hours, and he would never finish anything. But on some days it’s just necessary - you sweet talk him into a cuddle session, during which he accidentally falls asleep with his head over your heart, or you make some tea with love as the special ingredient – and tell him that! He’s going to melt and finally, gratefully accept that his partner wants to look after him.

FARAMIR: much like his brother, he will probably suffer in silence, but you can’t miss his tired sighs every now and then, and the way he shuts his eyes and rubs his temples. If you hug him from behind, he will melt into your touch and lean onto you so much that you will almost topple over, but that will also make him admit to himself that he really needs a break. Run him a nice, hot bath complete with fragrant ingredients, and candles lit around it,  and he will be forever grateful. If you don’t join immediately, he will very sweetly ask you to come with him because 'oh the bath is so big and so lonely' without one more person in it. 

ÉOMER: this hardworking man is actually quite in touch with how he feels, both physically and emotionally, and he knows when things are becoming too much and he needs to step away for his own good. It is not unusual for him to go search for you and suggest that the two of you do something away from everyday life. Many times he doesn’t even suggest anything, he just follows behind you whatever you’re doing - taking a walk and admiring some trees in bloom? He’s right there holding your hand. Sitting on a balcony and reading? He will lay his head on your lap and ask you to read to him. And he is content just being present with you.

SAM: he gets both overworked and stressed quite often, poor thing. Make him something to eat and bring it outside while he’s working in the garden, and just have a spontaneous mini-picnic in the backyard. Although he’s very hardworking and persistent, over time he’s learned to accept your help and pampering, and he really really enjoys it too. If he is under mental stress, maybe you’ll need to push him a little bit to tell you what is on his mind, but once he does, he will gladly listen to your advice or any help you can give him. 

FRODO: baby boy is in his head a lot and oftentimes he will accidentally create things to worry about, and he will just zone out. if he has a faraway look in his eyes, while doing nothing in particular, you can accurately guess what is up. He likes to feel useful, and he will gratefully accept if you ask him to help you with whatever you’re doing - it gives him an excuse to be kind and helpful, but also spend time with his favorite person. Especially if you’re organizing/re-organizing something, he will enjoy doing it with you, or cooking - he might not be the best at it, but he delights in giving you a hand, and he likes to learn and improve new skills anyway. 

MERRY: he is actually much more of an overthinker than he seems to be on the outside, so stress sometimes just generates outta nowhere! Also he isn’t the biggest fan of physical labor out there, but he is a little bit of a show-off when it comes to you, and he will go above and beyond when helping you with something or doing something for you, until he can barely stand. Afterwards he will take pride in the fact that you had to force him to stop whatever he was doing, but he was simply being so very nice to his favorite person! Something he loves to do to unwind in those moments is just come up with random stories with you, the two of you taking turns making up characters and events. He is a little bit of a baby and he will just take your hand wordlessly and put it in his hair, because it feels nice when you run your fingers through it.

PIPPIN: he will either be stressing over very small, irrelevant things, or something absolutely terrible, no in-between. If it’s something small, he has no problem rambling about it to you, and that usually helps him sort things out; but if it’s something serious, he will grow quiet. The best thing you can do for him in those moments is distract him with a silly idea like “let’s go for a walk and find as many kinds of blue flowers as we can” or just straight up make him laugh - it’s the best medicine. He wouldn’t ask you directly to do it, but he’d love it if you could just hold him or cuddle him for a bit (he’s the little spoon of course).

BILBO: oh he will get worked up over a whole bunch of random things; and when he is working on something, he goes all in (and then has a random episode of doing absolutely nothing), so you need to be the one who grounds him in reality sometimes. Just don’t startle him when approaching him quietly. He is very responsive to your touch and he will just lean into you as soon as you’re near, almost forgetting about everything else. He adores it when you hold his face in your hands and he will look at you as if hypnotized while you comfortingly reassure him that everything will be alright and that he doesn’t have to do anything alone as long as you’re around.

FÍLI: he is very big on “strong protective independent dwarf” and sometimes he doesn’t fully allow himself to rest properly, or to process some things that are bothering him on the inside. However, at one point it will all have to culminate, and then his first instinct is to shut himself off. A guaranteed way to get through to him is to kiss him senselessly wherever you can reach and it makes him subconsciously relax almost immediately. He will kiss you back passionately which helps him eliminate some of the tension he’s feeling. Additionally, he will never ever say no to receiving a nice little massage from you. 

KÍLI: oh he is quite proud of himself if he ends up overworking himself for you, as if it gives him bonus partner points. You will gently scold him for pushing himself too far, and then he will pout, but you know he still doesn’t regret it. Then he himself will drag you away for a cuddle session - he chose that as his reward for being the very best partner in all of Middle-earth - but you don’t have to exclusively cuddle. He finds it very relaxing if you sing something quietly to him and he will look up at you with shining eyes.

✨ taglist my beloved ✨ @lotrnonsense​​​​​​ @starlady66​​​​​​ @queenmeriadoc​​ @entishramblings ​​​​​​ @thesolarangel ​​​​​​ @silversword7000 @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @averys-place

@valkyriepirate @emmaarenstarr @noldorinpainter @asianbutnotjapanese @adamgetawaydriver @fenharel-enaste @ironmandeficiency      @starryeyedrogue @dinofromspac3  @wisheduponastar @lady-of-imladris @frodo-cinnamonroll @unethicallypleistocene @deadlymistletoe @suncran @high-sea-husbands @asianbutnoteastasian @aidansloth @sweetpea-thoughts

[scenesniper]

Hello hello, good day to you! If you don't mind may I request general headcanons for Matthias? (I got attached to him pretty quickly after multiple successful kites)

Tysm!

☆ matthias czernin ; general sfw & nsfw headcanons

pairing / matthias czernin x afab gn! reader

disclaimer / mention of blowjobs, finger fucking, tit fucking, dry humping

word count / 1,005 words

author's note / thank you anon, i'm having a good day i hope you are as well! i've been meaning to write about matthias for awhile (really, he's been in my drafts for a month now) so getting this request made me more motivated to finish.

SFW

☆ ”welcome, to the outstanding show..” a human so stiff as if he’s a puppet, he could easily be mistaken as one indeed. if there was no puppet in sigh, there’d be no telling that he was truly the puppeteer in charge.

☆ matthias czernin, a gloomy man with his drooped eyes that’d have mothers clutching their children’s shoulders as they walk past by him in the street, whispering, ”don’t look at him..” he looks almost unremarkable at first glance but if not for that burnt side of his.

☆ he’s not one to talk much, his expression seemingly to wander elsewhere and his eyes looking downwards. he’s one that lacks self confidence and self respect but oh, he so badly wants a sense of normalcy in this life. a mundane life.

☆ his uncertainty and hesitance towards commitment is clear, even after developing a relationship firsthand. he’s riddled with insecurities but god, does he love the idea of pursuing a romantic relationship. something that he’s lacked his entire life. he’d like it if you could meet him, outside of his family, his personal life. outside of ever meeting louis.

☆ matthias would certainly be lacking in the romantic field but he’d be a romantic at heart, albeit shy and very discreetly. fleeting, hidden touches of your hands in the dark or under covers. he’s not one to necessarily initiate, nor really enraptured with physical touch. however, he’d notice there’d be days where he would miss you and your touch.

☆ conversations with matthias would be with substance. he’s not a big fan on small talk, something that he’s always not been the best at. however, he’d always try his best to engage in it, only for you really.

☆ he would love to take you out, even if it’s a small outing. any moment with you is more than enough to him, a fleeting moment of you is everything to him. just to get away from his past, future, present.

☆ kissing with matthias can and could be awkward, he’s not experienced whatsoever and it’s more of a small and fast peck. but when it’s those days, when he’s completely so infatuated and need you ever so badly, he’d take you like a crazed man. it’s messy, sloppy and horrible, but you can feel those porcelain lips of his on you and really, that’s all that matters in that moment.

NSFW

☆ overtime, he would get confident on himself and those brief periods of yearning would turn into makeout sessions, him struggling to take off his layers of clothing and him gently pushing you on his bed, the sight of you all laid out for him.

☆ he’s hasty each and every time with you, not knowing where to look or how to act when he sees your naked sight. he’s embarrassed and feels as though he’s committing a great sin just having this view all to himself. but that turns him on even more.

☆ matthias czernin in bed is much more confident in both his personality and ability during bed, as if a switch is being turned on. he loves to take the reigns, to finally have some sense of control in his life. he’s slow and serious.

☆ he loves you giving him blowjobs, guiding you by your hair and pulling and tugging. those sounds of gagging that’ll come out of you and that feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat, he can’t last as long as he likes. rather than cumming inside of your mouth, he much prefers it if he cum outside of it as he doesn’t like how disrespectful it could be.

☆ matthias is someone that’s attentive. he’ll have his hands all around you as if you’re a doll, occasionally touching you in places just to get any elicit response. whether it’s him rubbing your nipples, playing with your clit and shoving his fingers deep in you. oh, how he loves the sight of his fingers deep in your womb. “you’re almost taking it all in..”

☆ he’s very sensitive in every part of his cock but especially the area hidden and lifted up from his foreskin. tease his foreskin, tease him and graze your lips. that just absolutely drives him crazy.

☆ he wants to hear your every sound, something that reassures him that he’s doing good. he’s very vocal but tries to shield it (which he really isn’t good at, at all). the sight of you burying your head in your pillow while he’s balls deep in you, is a sight that’s practically ingrained in his mind every second of the day.

☆ he has a boob and ass fixation, his hands are always on it or nearing those areas. whether it’s him licking your entire nipples, squeezing, or even tit fucking (no matter the size).

☆ he loves clothed humping, the feeling of friction. he could do foreplay for as long as possible, pinching your nipples through your clothes, his clothed cock poking you from behind and his other hand splayed around your entire stomach. he's absolutely in love with the sight of his rubbing cock on you as you’re clothed.

☆ his most certain favorite position is cowgirl. however, he’s very insecure of his “ghastly” appearance. he’d sometimes raise his hands near his face as if it’s out of habit to conceal himself.

☆ reassure him by putting his hands down, kissing each and every part of those “imperfections”, people would call him as they jab. praise him for his beauty and all that he is. he truly needs it. to return those affections, he loves to put his hands on your face. his thumb grazing your cheek and nearing your eye.

☆ aftercare with matthias would always be one with a bath drawn. he loves to feel and be clean. he’d love to help you dry your hair and you helping him with his afterwards. something about it just seems so.. domestic to him. it’s a heartwarming comfort to him.