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ramp-it-up · 3 months ago

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Knock You Down

Summary: James Bucky Barnes is an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. But when he meets you, he finds out that sometimes love comes around, and it knocks you down.

Word count: less than 2K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This fic was in part inspired by Seb Stan's latest pics and this press run 🫠, and partially inspired by an old song by some problematic people, lol. This is the result. As usual, I am Basil Exposition, so this is broken into parts. Part II is already in the queue and will be posted on Friday, 10/11.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Slow burn, cursing, mutual pining, Bucky the player, wild thoughts, kisses on the hand and the cheek. No sex!

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

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"Won't see it coming when it happens. But when it happens you're gonna feel it, let me tell you now."

Bucky always scoffed at Steve’s advice. He and Sam never understood his solitary bachelorhood and his one night stand lifestyle.

The truth was, he hadn’t met anyone who held his interest enough to warrant a second date, much less anything beyond one casual hookup. So, he never made promises that he couldn’t keep, and most women said they were down for that.

Even if they were lying to themselves.

At 42, James Buchanan Barnes was too dedicated to his business, ostensibly as an art dealer, for a serious relationship. The truth was that he dealt in many things, and that was why his business needed so much attention.

His life and everyone’s around him depended on it.

Bucky Barnes wasn’t going to get caught slipping.

In love or in business.

—---

The first time you met James Buchanan Barnes, on what you thought would be a random Monday afternoon, he appraised you in a way that shook you to the core, those ocean blue eyes looking into your soul. You felt as if he were evaluating a piece of art as he gazed at you across his desk.

You couldn’t know that he felt the exact same way.

His eyes never strayed from your face as he shook your hand, but he’d noticed every bit of you as you entered his gallery, Rebirth. You were more stunning than any piece of art that he’d ever curated in the space.

While nothing like his normal type, you made Bucky feel as if he’d been so wrong about so much in his life the moment you entered his orbit. He had to get to know you to find what he’d been missing.

This afternoon you were a sight to behold and serving body. Although you were covered from neck to shin in an elegant sheath dress, the high, wrapped waist was giving all of your bounteous curves up to whoever glanced at you. And you had heads turning.

Steve, Sam, and even Natasha craned their necks to watch you as you entered Bucky’s office. And he could have sworn that Nat’s neck was at a 90 degree angle as she watched you leave her desk just outside his door.

You were fine as hell.

Bucky was entranced by dreams of handling your curves and making you smile at him forever.

As Bucky dreamed, you admired the man in front of you. Tall, dark, and handsome, Barnes wasn’t a young man, but the gray in his beard and the crinkles around his eyes made him that much more attractive.

Even more attractive than in the paparazzi pics of him with various young models and actresses of the moment, waifs and ingénues with whom he was never photographed twice.

You just knew you were safe from any advances from him.

You thought.

“Enchanté, Ms. Y/LN. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Bucky lowered his head as he greeted you, a slight bow and extended his hand to his desk. You noticed the tattoo that started on his hand and seemed to go up his sleeve and went in the direction he pointed.

"You know, you are quite tenacious. I don’t take many meetings with potential buyers. But all of my people told me that I should.”

The silk of his voice, the unexpected tenor of it, and the way he took your hand made you shiver at the aura of experience that he gave off.

The word Daddy floated around in your mind for a moment until he invited you to sit.

You had to concentrate on the business at hand, that of negotiating for a piece of art for the Art and Culture Center in Brownsville, of which you were the director. The purchase was made possible by benefactors to commemorate a deceased Brownsville artist who became famous, then forgotten, during the Harlem Renaissance.

“You’ve made it past Ms. Romanoff, my gallerist, Mr. Wilson, my business manager, and Mr. Rogers, my gallery director, Ms. Y/LN. What makes you think that I’m going to give you a different answer? Letting that piece go for the price you’ve proposed is not a good business move.”

“You can’t afford to miss out on this opportunity, Mr. Barnes. Yes, you will be taking a loss on the artwork, but you will be on the ground floor of a major rediscovery. You will be known as one of the few who helped to resurrect the brilliance of the artist Howard Benson. You can be the Alice Walker to his Zora Neale Hurston.”

And that is when Bucky leaned back in his chair, astounded at your shrewd calculation.

“I love the way your mind works, Ms. Y/LN.”

You smiled and settled back into your chair, causing Bucky to shift in his chair. He wanted to be buried in you. He appraised and decided that he liked the pout that changed your lips almost as much as the smile that initially greeted him when he replied, “But that price is still unacceptable.”

You raised an adorable eyebrow at him and rose to the challenge that he lay at your feet ready to tangle with the inimitable James Barnes. The conversation stretched from early afternoon to dinner time, making you suspect that Barnes was drawing it out for some reason. You matched him, point for point, until it was dark. But he yielded no ground.

The conversation was intellectual foreplay: art history, sociology, american politics. And it was the most stimulated you’d been in a while.

You could do this all night.

Your phone buzzed and you looked down. There were several text messages and emails lighting up your screen. You’d been in deep with Barnes for hours. It was after 6 pm. It seemed like only minutes. You noticed that it was only you and Bucky left in the gallery and rose to excuse yourself, albeit reluctantly.

“Oh! I’m sorry to keep you so long. I’m sure that you must have plans.”

You’d done your research and you knew that there was probably someone little more than half Barnes’ age waiting for him. When you searched social media, there was a sighting or spotted every month or so of Bucky and a young, beautiful woman.

You reached for your coat, but Bucky was behind you in seconds, taking it from you and helping you put it on. You shivered at his breath at your throat and his hands on your collarbone as he draped the lapels over your neck. His deep chuckle made your stomach flip. He saw right through you.

“No one is waiting for me but my cat, Alpine. How about you, Ms. YLN? Anyone waiting for you in Brownsville?”

“Not tonight. No.”

Why in the world were you doing the sultry whisper thing? This man didn’t want you.

Did he?

You cleared your throat and you felt dizzy when you looked up and saw how close he was standing to you. Those eyes and the smile that graced his handsome face had you warm, but the way he licked his lips had you spiraling.

Bucky pushed down a mild sense of panic that someone might be expecting you some other night, but that was irrational. Competition never ever entered his mind when he talked to other women.

What was happening here?

“Well I would consider myself extremely fortunate and would be honored if we could continue this conversation over dinner.”

—-

The way James Barnes turned your meeting into a dinner date had your head spinning, but the wonderful conversation and easy, light hearted banter eased your mind. As soon as the first course was served at your table at dinner at Bohemian, he agreed to your initial price.

From there, once the terms were settled, the conversation turned to more personal questions, each of you sharing the stories of your life in your town, his childhood in Romania, your childhood in Brooklyn, and lots of funny stories.

At one point early in the night, Bucky stopped you from calling him Mr. Barnes.

“Please. Call me James. Or you could call me Bucky. My Friends call me Bucky. For my middle name, Buchanan. Bucky is short for Buchanan.”

Bucky found himself rambling. He had not been this nervous in a while.

You looked at him quizzically. At that moment, he would give you anything you were about to ask of him.

“Do you have a lot of friends? I mean, do a lot of people call you Bucky?“

Godamn, the husk in your voice, those lips, those eyes. Everything about you was about to set him on fire.

“I have a few who are in my close circle. Natasha, Steve, Sam. They and a very few others call me Bucky. Most people I speak with call me Mr. Barnes...”

You nodded slowly, licking your lips, making Bucky feel it in his cock.

“Then I will call you James.”

He got your subtle meaning. You wanted to be different.

And you were. So very different.

After almost five hours of the best conversation and laughter, he proposed another time for you two to meet before the week was up, on Friday. He had made it clear at dinner that now that business was concluded that he wanted to spend time with you.

Friday night would be a date, the second one at his insistence.

You debated that fact as his driver took you home, even up until he walked you to the door of your brownstone.

He leaned against your doorframe and checked you out as you retrieved your keys from your purse. When you turned and caught him looking, you gasped, causing him to straighten up and move toward you, eyes dilated.

“It will be our second date,” you conceded.

Bucky’s mouth curled into a smirk as he grabbed your hand and lifted it to his mouth. Your soul burned as he pressed his lips to your palm. It was like the hint of a drug in your veins and you wanted so much more.

“What made you change your mind?”

That voice. Did you have a voice kink? Good lord.

You flushed, both at the images that were racing through your mind, and at the arbitrary three date rule you’d made up a while ago. Why was that again?

You cleared your throat.

“Because of the way you are looking at me, James. And the fact that you just kissed me.”

“Is this a kiss?”

“Ummhmmmm.”

You hummed as Bucky raised his eyebrow and your hand again. This time, he brushed his lips against your wrist and inhaled the perfume lingering there. You were about to melt.

Bucky didn’t even know what he was doing. The next step in his mind was to open his mouth and consume you, but he opened his eyes and spied you looking at him in that way, and he knew he had to stop. He didn’t want this to be like all of his other conquests.

He straightened up, but didn’t let go of your hand, entangling your fingers together.

“You are correct, Y/N. In my mind, this is a date. I am interested in you, for more than just your taste in art. I hope that this is the first date of many.”

You were bowled over at his straightforwardness. It was not what you were used to. This was a man, not a boy in mens clothing.

“I appreciate your honesty, James.”

You went on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, your lips lingering on the black and grey stubble so close to his lips. You turned around, giving him a view of your backside as you opened your door.

“And your ambition.”

You gave him that smile again with a wink, and your “Goodnight, James,” floated up to him on cloud nine.

——-

Let me know if you liked it!

Part II here.

#falloween #falloween 24 #kinktober #kinktober 24 #ramp-it-up falloween ‘24 #bucky barnes #Art dealer! Bucky Barnes #mob boss! Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x black!reader

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just-aake · 3 months ago

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Everlasting Devotion - Part VI

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel of Boundless Devotion Series. MedievalAU. With her coronation over, Natasha is now the queen of the Romanov Kingdom. However, the position comes with challenges from both old and new enemies as Natasha tries to maintain the peace while also navigating her relationship with you.

Warnings: light angst

Words: 6225

The metal glove left behind by the attacker a few days ago rests on the simple wooden table, its presence out of place in the otherwise humble surroundings.

Around you, the room is still sparsely furnished with little more than the bare essentials.

You sit across from Bucky, watching intently as he examines the piece of armor. The silence stretches on, thick with unspoken thoughts, until you can no longer keep your curiosity at bay.

“So, what do you think?” you ask, your voice cutting through the quiet.

Bucky tilts his head, scrutinizing the glove with a practiced eye before finally shaking his head, a frown tugging at his lips.

“I’ve never seen this type of weapon before,” he admits, his tone carrying the weight of years of experience. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if it was made by someone from the Stark kingdom.”

You lean in closer, your interest piqued at his answer.

“How can you tell?”

Bucky gestures to the details on the glove, pointing out subtle features that had escaped your attention.

“The design—these engravings and the traces of rare metal used—is very similar to the signatures of weapons crafted when I was still the Captain.”

His fingers trace the outline of the glove’s surface until they rest on the top, where the dull, gray stone is embedded.

“This, however,” he continues, his voice dropping to a wary tone, “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

He looks up at you, eyes serious and filled with curious suspicion.

“You said it was glowing?”

You furrow your brows as you stare at the stone in thought, focusing hard as you try to recall the chaos of the attack before giving a slight nod of your head.

“I think that’s what I saw glowing from the shadows during the attack,” you begin slowly, trying to piece together the memories. “And what caused that blinding flash when the attacker escaped. But after everything calmed down…”

You pause, the words catching in your throat as you struggle to explain the strange occurrence that followed.

“One moment, I was heading towards the twins, and the next…I’m kneeling beside this glove with my hand hovering above the stone.”

You lock eyes with Bucky, giving him a worried expression.

“I can’t seem to remember what happened in between,” you admit, your voice tinged with frustration and a growing sense of unease. “It’s as if that time was completely erased from my mind.”

You glance down at your hand, the one that had hovered so closely over the stone.

“I think...the stone did something to my memories when I reached for it.”

Closing your eyes briefly, you take a deep breath, the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you. You think about the recent gaps and blurry memories in your mind, like how you failed to remember the moments after Dreykov captured you.

“And I have this feeling—it’s not the first time,” you admit quietly.

Bucky’s expression hardens with a mix of concern and sympathetic understanding of what you’re implying.

“Do you have any idea or…”

You grimace apologetically, hesitating as you acknowledge the reason you came to Bucky with this unsettling situation.

“…experience with what it could be?”

Thankfully, he isn’t offended by your question.

Instead, he leans back slightly, his expression thoughtful as he considers your words. After a moment of contemplation, he begins to speak, his tone measured and reflective.

“You know, your father—” he starts, but when he notices you tense, he quickly corrects himself, “Howard Stark was researching something similar to what Dreykov and the Romanovs were working on. The whole mind control possibility. Of course, he never knew about their success in that field, but he did explore a different angle, something leaning more towards the mystical elements.”

Intrigued by the revelation, you think about the book you received from Melina, wondering if his notes on such topics might be included there.

Bucky’s voice pulls you from your thoughts as he continues.

“Before he…died, he was close to figuring out how to harness the powers of sorcerers for non-magically inclined people. More specifically, the power of those with innate abilities to influence others’ minds,” he says, giving you a pointed look. “Like your powerful little friend.”

Bucky pauses, letting his words sink in before addressing the question that’s been looming ever since you mentioned the stone and its possible effects on your memories.

“Speaking of which, why haven’t you asked her to take a look inside your mind? See if she can figure out what’s wrong.”

You sigh sadly at his suggestion. The idea of asking Wanda had crossed your mind, but you’ve been reluctant to push her, given her current condition.

“She’s still shaken from the attack and from how her powers accidentally hurt me,” you explain. “I’ll consider asking her when she feels better, but I thought maybe you might have some ideas too.”

Bucky gives you a slight smirk, his eyes softening.

“Well, maybe next time, try not to touch things you don’t understand yet.”

You chuckle lightly, the tension easing just a bit as you glance around the small home.

The cabin is simple, built from weathered wood that blends seamlessly with the surrounding forest. The only sounds you hear outside are the rustling leaves and the occasional chirp of a distant bird.

“You know, I could always get you someplace with more room,” you offer, shifting the conversation to lighter topics.

Bucky shakes his head, glancing around the space he’s come to know as his own.

“I like this. It’s simple.”

“And isolated,” you add pointedly, your gaze sweeping the quiet surroundings. “Far from town and people. Have you even had any other visitors besides me?”

“I go into town occasionally for supplies, and I meet with Steve in the clearing sometimes for a spar,” Bucky defends, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“So you don’t even invite him over?” you ask with a hint of disappointment before encouraging him gently. “This is your chance to live without always worrying about looking over your shoulders.”

“I am living. This is the most peace I’ve had in years,” Bucky replies, his voice steady with conviction. He nods at you, his expression filled with gratitude and trust. “And I’m content to have one person I trust know where I am for now.”

You return his nod with a small smile, relenting with a sigh.

Your occasional visits have made Bucky more comfortable and open with you recently, and you don’t want to push him too much.

“Alright then, I should head home,” you say, rising from your seat and carefully placing the glove back into your satchel.

“To prepare for the intimidation from the other council members today?” Bucky guesses knowingly, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I don’t miss that.”

You nod, a rueful smile crossing your face at the reminder.

“I also have some people coming today to start on the repairs for the gates.”

As you reach the door, you pause and suggest, “You should visit sometime.”

Bucky offers a small, appreciative smile but shakes his head.

“Thank you, but I’m not good at meeting new people,” he replies.

You nod in understanding and bid him farewell before making your way to where your horse is waiting. As you ride through the quiet forest, your thoughts drift back to the satchel at your side.

The strange events surrounding the stone still weigh heavily on your mind, and you wonder if you should ask Natasha for her thoughts on the situation.

It’s been days since you last saw her, and the ache of missing her has settled deep in your chest. But now, with the upcoming council meeting providing a chance to see her without raising suspicion, you’re faced with a different challenge: pretending that you’re not in love with her.

That’s easier said than done, considering you were exposed so quickly last time when your gaze lingered on Natasha just a little too long.

Maybe you should avoid looking directly at her during the meeting. Hopefully, that might help conceal your feelings from the others.

As you near your manor, the sound of raised voices pulls you from your thoughts. In the distance, you recognize Pietro's voice, sharp and edged with anger.

“You can’t just spread your stuff everywhere like this! I work in this area!” Pietro exclaims, clearly frustrated.

"Where else am I supposed to set up?” Tony retorts impatiently. “In case you forgot, I’m supposed to be fixing this gate.”

Sighing in exasperation, you urge your horse forward, hurrying to intervene before their argument escalates.

As you approach, Tony's taunting voice cuts through the air.

“Let's be honest, is there really a need for you here? What's the point of a gatekeeper with no gate?” he quips, clearly enjoying his own provocation.

Quickly, you bring your horse to a halt in front of Pietro, blocking his path before things can get worse. Dismounting smoothly, you step between the two, determined to diffuse the tension.

“Don’t listen to him, Pietro,” you say, ruffling his hair with a fond smile. “You’re very much needed here.”

Offering him the reins, you add, “Could you please take the horse back to the stables for me?”

Though still clearly irritated, Pietro takes the reins and heads off, but not without shooting a glare at Tony over his shoulder.

Tony, unfazed, flashes a smug grin and waves mockingly after Pietro. When he turns back to you, you meet his gaze with a stern, disapproving look.

“That was uncalled for,” you say firmly.

Tony shrugs, clearly unbothered by your reprimand.

“It’s a tough world. If he can’t handle a bit of honest criticism, he’ll have a rough time in life,” he replies, his tone unapologetic.

Then, pointing at you, he adds, “And you can’t keep coddling him.”

You brush his hand aside dismissively.

“I’m not coddling him. I look out for him because he's someone I care about. There's a difference.”

Tony shudders dramatically.

“Sounds exhausting. Me, I only ever had to look out for myself. You should try it more often—really helps lower the stress,” he quips, waving at your disapproving frown.

“How about you just focus on the gate?” you suggest, gesturing toward the entrance. “It seems like Vision is the only one taking this job seriously.”

Near the entrance, Vision stands at the remnants of the broken gates and hinges, meticulously measuring and taking notes with a notepad and quill in hand.

Tony smirks and gestures dramatically toward himself.

“He wouldn’t be doing that if I hadn’t told him to, so in a way, that’s all thanks to me.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms with an exasperated sigh.

“You really love complimenting yourself, don’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Tony responds with a grin. “It’s called confidence. If I don’t believe in myself, how could I expect others to?”

You pause, caught off guard by his answer.

Just when you think you’ve figured him out, he drops a casually insightful comment like this that makes you reconsider what sort of person you thought he was.

Before you can respond, Vision approaches with his calm and focused demeanor.

“I've documented all the specifications for the gates. Shall I move on to the outer walls now, or would you prefer I wait for later?” Vision asks.

You raise a hand, stopping him, your brows knitting together in confusion.

“Outer walls? I never mentioned anything about those.”

“About that," Tony interjects, gesturing at the surroundings.

“I walked around your perimeter earlier, and to be blunt, your security is pretty much non-existent. No defenses, no countermeasures against threats. For someone as protective of that kid as you are, I’m surprised you haven’t done anything about it.”

You glare at him, catching his little jab at you, but you answer calmly.

“That’s because my family’s reputation has always been enough to keep people from testing our boundaries,” you reply, before muttering under your breath, “At least it used to be.”

Vision studies you with a curious expression.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Lady Y/n, what caused the damage to the gates?”

“It was a carriage crash,” you respond smoothly, hoping the explanation will be enough without digging into the details.

Vision's brows furrow slightly as he raises a hand to his chin, clearly skeptical.

Tony notices his reaction and quirks a brow.

“What's the problem?”

Vision shakes his head lightly, his eyes drifting back to you.

“The damage suggests the gates were torn off…” he trails off as his gaze shifts to something behind you.

You turn to see what caught his attention and find Wanda approaching, her arms crossed defensively, eyeing the two strangers warily. She stops beside you, and you introduce her.

“This is Wanda, Pietro’s twin sister.”

“Oh great, another one,” Tony mutters under his breath.

Wanda’s eyes narrow at his comment, and she gives Tony a sharp once-over before turning to you with a questioning look.

You sigh inwardly, marveling at how quickly Tony manages to get on the twins' bad side with so little effort.

Leaning closer to her, you whisper, "Be nice. We didn’t have any other options."

Wanda’s lips press into a thin line, clearly displeased, but she turns to Tony, her tone calm and commanding.

“Your things are blocking the entrance. You need to move them.”

To your surprise, Vision quietly excuses himself, stepping away, and begins moving their tools and supplies to the side. You can’t help but smile in mild amusement, wondering if Wanda noticed his reaction to her.

Tony, however, remains where he is, letting out a huff of disbelief at Vision’s actions before chuckling as he turns back to the two of you.

He reaches out as if to pat Wanda on the head.

“For someone so small, you sure know how to act like you’re in charge.”

Your eyes widen in alarm, but before you can intervene, it’s too late.

Wanda’s eyes flare red, and Tony’s hand freezes mid-air, wrapped in the familiar glow of her power.

A brief flicker of surprise crosses Tony’s face as he glances between Wanda and his immobilized hand.

Then, with an understanding smirk, he remarks, “Well, looks like we found the culprit who really destroyed the gates.”

You quickly step forward, placing a calming hand on Wanda’s shoulder, pulling her protectively closer to you.

“The crash destroyed the gates, not Wanda,” you say firmly, your tone carrying a warning as you glare at Tony.

Still smirking, Tony raises his free hand in mock surrender.

“If you say so.” He nods toward his trapped hand. “Mind letting this go? Kinda need it to do my job—assuming you still want my help.”

With a reluctant sigh, you glance at Wanda, who continues to glare at Tony, and give her a nod to let him go.

After a moment, the red glow fades from her eyes, and Tony’s hand is released. He rubs his wrist, his grin never faltering.

“I wouldn’t provoke her any further if I were you,” you warn, your voice low but clear.

“Noted,” Tony replies, still grinning. Then, with a teasing smirk, he adds, “So, anyone else you’re coddling that I should meet before I get started?”

You roll your eyes and turn to leave, guiding Wanda away with you.

“I don't like him,” Wanda mutters. Then, with a hint of concern, she asks, “Can we even trust someone like him?"

Her question lingers in the air as you weigh your thoughts.

Despite his arrogance and sarcasm, Tony doesn’t strike you as a bad person. He clearly has the skills for the job, and beneath the bravado, there’s something capable and dependable about him.

“I think we can,” you reply honestly, though a nagging feeling lingers concerning something else.

Based on what you've observed, Tony doesn’t appear to you as just some ordinary traveler visiting the kingdom. Your instincts tell you there’s something more.

With a slight shake of your head, you push the thought aside for later and decide to focus on what's next.

“Come on, help me get ready for the council meeting.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha strides purposefully across the courtyard toward the council room, her mind racing about the impending meeting.

Suddenly, Steve’s voice cut through her focus, pulling her back to the present.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, concern evident in his tone.

She stops at the edge of the training grounds, turning to face him. Her expression hardens slightly, reflecting the frustration she’s been harboring for the past few days.

“I’d feel a lot better if we weren’t about to waste time on a pointless interrogation,” she replies, her voice tinged with irritation. “What do they even hope to accomplish with this?”

Steve places a comforting pat on her shoulder.

“I understand how you feel,” he says softly, his tone both supportive and firm. “But people like Lord Sitwell need to feel in control. Maybe going through the motions with this will calm him and the others down.”

Natasha’s eyes flicker with a mix of annoyance and reluctant acceptance.

She knows Steve is right, but the frustration of the situation–especially with putting you in the middle of it–irritates her all the same.

Her gaze drifts past him toward the towering council chamber in the distance, wondering if you had already arrived.

The thought of seeing you is the only silver lining in this otherwise dreadful meeting.

She wonders if you feel the same.

Before she can dwell on it, a voice rings out, sharp and urgent.

“Careful! On your left!”

Natasha reacts instinctively, stepping to the side just as a shadow swoops down, brushing the space where she had stood moments before.

The bird completes its dive and soars back into the sky with a few strong beats of its wings.

Her gaze follows the bird’s path as it circles back and lands gracefully on the arm of a knight approaching them.

The knight dips his head apologetically as he nears.

“My apologies, Your Majesty, Captain,” he says with a small bow. “Redwing got a little excited.”

Natasha tilts her head, eyeing the bird with mild curiosity.

“Redwing?” she asks.

The knight nods, lifting his arm to show the bird more clearly.

“My falcon. See the red streak of feathers on his wings? He’s cute, isn’t he?” He grins, clearly proud of his feathered friend, and holds the bird closer. “Would you like to pet him?”

Natasha eyes the falcon warily, noting the bird's sharp beak and calculating gaze.

“I’m good,” she replies dryly, stepping back.

Steve chuckles and takes the opportunity to introduce the knight properly.

“This is Sir Sam Wilson and his companion, Redwing.”

Natasha gives a curt nod of understanding and acknowledgment.

“The knight you trust with your life,” she guesses.

Sam raises an amused brow, placing a hand dramatically over his heart.

“Aw, Captain, I’m honored. Though maybe if you didn’t keep finding trouble, I wouldn’t have to save you so often.”

Steve groans, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

“Alright, alright. I didn’t bring you here to make fun of me,” he says, gesturing toward Natasha. “You mentioned you had something to report, and I figured we both needed to hear it.”

Sam’s playful demeanor shifts as he straightens, adopting a more professional tone.

“Right. I’ve got good news and bad news,” he begins, gently urging Redwing to move from his arm to his shoulder.

The falcon complies, ruffling its feathers as it settles in.

“The good news is that I’ve dismissed all of Councillor Ross’ spies. It doesn’t seem like he’s sending any more, so for now, the only person keeping an eye on Lady Y/n’s movements is you, Your Majesty.”

Natasha’s jaw tightens, and she grimaces at his choice of words.

“You’re not surveilling her,” she corrects, her voice firm. “The goal is to watch for potential threats, not to…monitor her.”

Steve sighs quietly, meeting her gaze with a serious expression.

“I still think you should at least let Lady Y/n know. I’m not sure how she’d feel about this if she found out, especially considering…everything recently.”

He hesitates before continuing, his eyes softening with sympathy.

“If you regret the breakup, maybe it’s better to talk to her about it rather than doing all this.”

Natasha huffs in disbelief, offended at the suggestion of ulterior motives.

“This has nothing to do with that!” she snaps.

Beside Steve, Sam raises his hands in mock surrender, an understanding smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey, no judgments here. I’d be curious too whether my ex was meeting with anyone after we split.”

“That’s not—” Natasha starts, but cuts herself off, groaning in frustration as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

Deciding it’s not worth her energy, she waves the comment away.

“What’s the bad news?” she asks, eager to shift the focus.

Sam’s playful demeanor fades entirely as his face grows serious. He exchanges a concerned glance with Steve before continuing.

“Lord Sitwell’s been behaving strangely these last few days. Recently, he met with some people in one of the shadier parts of town. They were demanding something from him—something that was supposed to be ready already. I overheard him promise them he’d have it by the end of the week.”

Steve’s brows furrow, his eyes narrowing in concern at the information.

“That sounds like he’s desperate,” he mutters, the implications sinking in. “Whatever he’s supposed to give them…it can’t be good.”

Natasha’s eyes narrow as her mind races, connecting the new information with a sudden thought.

“You think this has something to do with today’s meeting? It was his idea, after all,” she muses, her tone sharpening.

“It's possible,” Steve responds, nodding gravely before turning to Sam with a serious expression.

“Keep digging. Let us know as soon as you find anything. In the meantime, we’ll proceed with the meeting and see if we can figure out what Sitwell’s after.”

Sam straightens, a look of determination crossing his face.

“Will do. Redwing and I will keep you both updated on Sitwell and Lady Y/n’s situation.”

As Redwing lets out a sharp cry and soars back into the sky, Sam gives them a respectful nod and turns to leave.

Natasha and Steve watch him go, the weight of the new information heavy between them. After a moment, Natasha glances at Steve curiously.

“So, is the bird watching Y/n then?” she asks, her tone dry but with a hint of amusement.

Steve chuckles, the tension easing slightly.

“Don’t worry, Redwing’s got sharper eyes than any of us,” he replies with a grin.

Natasha hums skeptically before turning her gaze back to the council chamber, her expression hardening once more.

“Let’s get this over with,” she says firmly, striding toward the chamber with renewed determination.

As Natasha and Steve approach the council room doors, a familiar, anxious voice nearby interrupts the low hum of conversation from within.

Natasha makes out the soft, frantic muttering, and she instinctively turns her head in the direction of the sound.

“You go ahead,” she tells Steve.

He pauses and looks toward the sound before giving her a knowing nod and continuing toward the council chamber.

Natasha veers off toward the balcony, following the sound of Kate Bishop’s voice.

As she draws closer, Natasha can make out Kate’s words more clearly, the younger woman’s tone laced with uncertainty and rising panic.

“What was I thinking? I don’t know the first thing about what to do in a council meeting!”

Kate’s hands flutter wildly in the air, her pacing quickening as she becomes more consumed by her spiraling thoughts.

Natasha stops outside the balcony’s entrance, watching for a moment as Kate’s obvious distress plays out before her.

She knows the younger woman is more than capable, but this challenge is different.

The pressure of the council can be overwhelming, even for the most seasoned members.

Deciding that it’s time to step in before Kate’s anxiety spirals out of control, Natasha takes a step forward, her boots making a soft sound on the stone floor as she approaches.

“You know,” Natasha begins, her voice calm and steady as it cuts through Kate’s rambling, “the whole reason I gave you the option was so that you could decide what's best for yourself.”

Kate jumps at Natasha’s voice, spinning around to face her.

“Natasha! I didn’t see you there,” she exclaims, her tone tinged with a mixture of surprise and relief.

Natasha gives her a small smile, reassuring her, “If you don’t want to be on the council, you could just refuse.”

Kate's expression shifts as her words sink in, and she quickly waves her hands in protest.

“No, no, I’m grateful for the consideration. It’s just…what if I mess up? What if I say something stupid or make the wrong call? These people are all so experienced, and I’m just—”

“You’re just what?” Natasha interrupts gently, raising an eyebrow. “You’re just as capable as anyone in that room, Kate. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

Kate sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly under the weight of her doubts.

“I know, but it’s still intimidating. It’s not exactly the same as shooting arrows or sparring on the training grounds. And then I couldn’t find Yelena anywhere in the castle to talk about this with her. She wasn’t at her usual spots, so that means she must’ve snuck out again—without me,” Kate rambles, her words quickening with anxiousness and exasperation.

Natasha’s expression softens in understanding as she places a reassuring hand on Kate’s shoulder, grounding her.

“Breathe, Kate.”

She makes a mental note about Yelena’s mysterious unknown whereabouts, tucking away that piece of information to deal with later.

For now, her focus is on calming Kate down.

After a couple of deep breaths from Kate, Natasha asks, “What made you decide to accept the seat and join the council?”

Kate hesitates for a moment before answering, her voice quieter now.

“When I visited Y/n the other day, she mentioned how some on the council gave you a hard time,” Kate replies, shrugging lightly. “And I thought, maybe if I were on the council—you'd have another person on your side, you know? But now I’m not so sure if I’d be able to do anything to help you.”

Natasha’s gaze softens, touched by Kate’s concern and the thoughtfulness behind her decision.

“Kate, you don’t have to be perfect; you just have to be yourself,” she says, her voice filled with quiet conviction. “You’ve got a perspective that no one else on that council has. That’s valuable. And you’ve got more courage than most people I’ve ever met.”

Kate looks up at Natasha, the tension in her features easing slightly.

“Do you really think I can do this?”

“I know you can,” Natasha replies with a small, encouraging smile. “But remember, the choice is still yours. If you ever feel like you don't want to do this anymore, there’s no shame in stepping back. But if you decide to stay, know that I’m grateful to have you on my side.”

Kate takes a deep breath, her resolve strengthening.

“Okay,” she says finally, her voice firmer now. “I’ll give it a shot.”

Natasha smiles, giving Kate’s shoulder a light squeeze.

“Good. Now, let’s get in there.”

Kate nods, her confidence returning as she walks toward the council chamber with Natasha.

As they enter, the murmurs of the council members die down, all eyes turning toward Natasha and Kate. Steve, already seated, gives them both a nod of acknowledgment.

Natasha takes her seat beside him, her presence commanding respect without a word.

Kate hesitates for a brief moment, but with a reassuring glance from Natasha, she moves to an empty chair further down the table.

With her settled, Natasha’s eyes instinctively seek you out in the room. She spots you quickly enough, engaged in a conversation with Maria.

The sight of your face lit with a warm smile instantly softens the tension she’s been carrying for the past few days.

However, as soon as your gaze meets hers, something shifts.

Your smile fades slightly, replaced by a neutral, unreadable expression. Without hesitation, you turn away from her, directing your attention back to your discussion with Maria.

The abrupt shift in your demeanor leaves Natasha momentarily unsettled, her brows furrowing slightly in confusion.

That wasn’t the reaction she was expecting from you.

Natasha quickly masks her surprise, forcing herself to focus on the matters at hand, but the lingering question of your action remains at the back of her mind.

The meeting begins as Ross formally welcomes Kate to the council and acknowledges your presence before passing the floor to Sitwell.

Natasha’s attention sharpens as Sitwell takes the lead, his tone smooth and calculated.

“Lady Y/n,” Sitwell begins, addressing you directly with a practiced politeness. “Were you aware of any indications about the attack that day?”

Natasha’s eyes narrow at the thinly veiled accusation in his question.

This is exactly what she had feared, Sitwell’s subtle attempt to paint you as a suspect rather than focusing on the real threat.

Her eyes flick to you, searching your face for signs of discomfort, but you remain composed and relaxed under the scrutiny.

“No,” you say calmly, your voice steady and unwavering. “My father’s early return from his trip that morning was unexpected though.”

Natasha suppresses a smirk of admiration as she watches you handle Sitwell’s probing with ease.

You’ve always had a way of turning the conversation back to the facts, refusing to be rattled.

The subtle redirection is clear—returning the focus to Dreykov, where it belongs.

But Sitwell ignores the opportunity you’ve given him to move on, and his next question cuts back toward you, determined to keep the discussion fixed on you.

“Can you remind the council again how you first became aware of the plans for the attack?” he asks, his tone pressing.

You remain unshaken, delivering your response with unwavering grace.

“We discovered correspondence between Lord Rumlow and Madam B about his next plans of action at the prison.”

Natasha watches Sitwell as he lowers his gaze to the documents in front of him, the ones Steve compiled during his investigation.

“And before that,” Sitwell presses on, “you were alone with Madam B for a short period, separated from the others. Could you tell us what happened during that time?”

There’s a beat of silence, but you don’t flinch. Instead, you offer him a polite, practiced smile.

“Unless you have something specific you’d like to ask, Lord Sitwell, I fail to see how my brief interaction with her is relevant to this discussion.”

The challenge in your tone is subtle, but Natasha picks up on it immediately. She can’t help but be impressed by your calm defiance.

Sitwell, however, remains undeterred. He leans forward, his tone sharpening.

“Madam B was your governess for years,” Sitwell remarks. “More importantly, she was involved in developing techniques similar to those used in the attack on the castle’s soldiers. Did she mention anything about that to you?”

Natasha exchanges a quick glance with Steve, her concern and suspicion mirrored in his eyes.

Sitwell is pushing into dangerous territory with his line of questioning, and Natasha can feel her patience start to thin at relentless probing.

“She mentioned developing a quicker way to control individuals for Lord Rumlow,” you reply calmly, not giving him more than he needs.

Sitwell’s gaze narrows.

“Using Queen Melina’s serum, correct? A serum that was highly classified. And yet, Madam B had access to it.”

He gestures pointedly toward you.

“You’ve been known to assist Queen Melina in recent years—do you have any idea how Madam B came into possession of such sensitive information?”

Natasha clenches her fists beneath the table, her temper flaring at Sitwell’s attempt to blame you for something that was not in your control.

She’s on the verge of stepping in when Steve firmly places his hand on the table, speaking up with a calm yet authoritative voice.

“As you said, Lord Sitwell, that information is restricted. It will be handled by the appropriate parties who need to know,” Steve interjects. “We’re here to discuss Lord Dreykov’s involvement in the attack, not to speculate on unrelated matters.”

There’s a brief moment of silence as Sitwell scowls, clearly displeased by Steve’s interruption.

Natasha can feel the frustration radiating off him, but he knows better than to challenge Steve directly. With a slight sneer, he drops the subject.

“Very well,” Sitwell says, his tone now colder. “Lady Y/n, what do you believe to be the extent of your father’s involvement in the attack?”

You remain poised, your voice calm and measured.

“We can start with how the soldiers who attacked us at the prison were his,” you respond.

A murmur ripples through the council, and one of the members chimes in, their voice skeptical.

“But how can you be sure they were following his orders and not acting independently?”

You draw in a deep breath, and Natasha notices the subtle tightening of your jaw as you answer.

“Dreykov is all about control. He surrounds himself with those who follow his every command. Anyone who doesn’t is…dispensable.”

Sitwell seizes on your words, raising an eyebrow as he rifles through his documents before fixing his gaze on you.

“I assume that’s why you chose to return to your manor—to save your servants?” he asks, his tone dripping with disdain. “The Maximoff twins. One of whom you’ve conveniently kept secret about her dangerous abilities.”

Your eyes flash with warning, but you maintain your composure.

“We all have our secrets, Lord Sitwell,” you reply smoothly. “Secrets we keep to protect the people we care about.”

A thin smile creeps onto Sitwell’s face, and Natasha feels a chill of unease. She becomes more alert, sensing the shift in the conversation.

“That’s exactly why we’re here, isn’t it?” Sitwell continues, his voice dangerously calm. “To uncover those secrets—the things that were left out of these so-called official reports.”

He tosses the documents onto the table dismissively, his gaze fixed on you.

“So, Lady Y/n, why don’t you tell us what happened during those moments before the final confrontation between you and your father?”

The room falls into tense silence as everyone waits for your response.

Natasha’s attention remains locked on you, her entire being ready to intervene if necessary.

For a brief second, your eyes flicker to hers, and in that instant, Natasha offers a small, subtle nod—a wordless gesture of support, silently reassuring you that she’s with you.

Taking a deep breath, you speak, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions beneath the surface.

“Lord Dreykov tried to use me to kill Natasha.”

The revelation sends a shockwave through the room, gasps and murmurs rising from the council members.

One of them leans forward, their voice urgent and concerned. “He threatened you?”

“In a way,” you admit, your voice quiet but firm. “He controlled me, just like Rumlow controlled the other soldiers.”

There was a palpable shift in the room.

The realization of what you’ve endured begins to sink in, and for a moment, the air is thick with the gravity of your admission.

But before the silence can stretch too long, Sitwell seizes the opportunity to regain control of the conversation.

“And we’re supposed to believe that you somehow broke free from his control on your own?” Sitwell’s eyes narrow, his tone sharp as he probes deeper. “Can you even explain the process he used to bring you under his control in the first place?”

At his question, Natasha notices a flicker of something—unease, confusion—flash across your face, and for the first time during the meeting, she sees a crack in your composed exterior.

You hesitate, and then, with a strained voice, you admit, “I can’t remember.”

Sitwell scoffs in disbelief. He leans forward, his voice dripping with skepticism.

“You can’t—or you won’t?”

You straighten in your seat, a flare of defiance in your eyes.

“I would never want to harm Natasha or anyone in her family intentionally. That’s the truth.”

Sitwell leans back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him as he regards you with cold calculation. His next question is calculated and sharp, aimed to undermine and cast doubt on everything you’ve said.

“How can we be sure you’re even telling the truth?”

The room falls into a tense, oppressive silence, every eye now locked on you. The weight of Sitwell’s words lingers in the air, thick with suspicion and judgment.

Natasha, already at her breaking point from watching Sitwell chip away at your integrity, feels the urge to intervene and finally put an end to this interrogation. She’s ready to speak when your voice cuts through the silence.

“The serum.”

The room seems to freeze for a moment, and Sitwell blinks, momentarily thrown by your response.

“What?”

Natasha swings her head toward you, her brows knitting together in confusion and concern.

Your suggestion is reckless, dangerous even, and she can hardly believe you would propose such a thing.

But there it is—that familiar look of determination she knows so well, etched across your face. It’s the same expression you wear when you’re willing to risk everything for what you believe in.

“Have me take the serum,” you repeat, your voice unwavering and resolute. “Then you’ll know I’m telling the truth.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: thank you for reading! and sorry for the long break in between chapters, I didn’t mean for it to be a whole month since an update on this series, but hopefully it won’t be like this for next time.

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it, please let me know again.

Taglist : @midastouch013, @2silverchain, @dvrkhcld, @observeowl, @x-drowned-x, @fireandblood-3, @natsxwife, @leequifey, @blacklightsposts, @srt-sah, @scar-letwidow, @likefirenrain, @autorasexy, @natsbiggestfan1, @lex13cm, @iheartjohansson, @tofu9162, @nothanksbye07, @unexpected-character, @natashasilverfox, @acciowriting, @qtreesfanstuff, @mrsrushman, @inarayofmoonlight, @viosblog112, @inarayofmoonlight

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff

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vanilladove · 3 months ago

Text

𐙚⋆.⋆♡ dollhouse

spooktober 2024 masterlist

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚 pairing: yandere!ayatsuji yukito x fem!reader

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚 content warnings: kidnapping, dollification, stockholm syndrome, a tiny bit suggestive

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚 summary: an intriguing customer with an obsession for dolls visits your family's antique shop and is captivated by you, but little do you know what he has in store for you...

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚 word count: 2.5k

The door to the basement clicked open, signaling that he was back home.

Ayatsuji Yukito. The man who had kidnapped you randomly and gotten away with it, because he could.

You still remembered meeting him at your parents' antiques shop, the smell of smoke wafting past you. The way his gold orbs cut into your soul, and the following shudder your body let out—looking back now, it must've been a sign, but you ignored it. How could you not, though, with how beautiful the man behind you was? When you turned around, you took in his appearance.

His messy blonde waves and his dressed-up attire—donning a white button-up, gray sweater vest, and a maroon tie tucked underneath. When he pushed up his yellow-tinted sunglasses, his eyes finally met yours. Giving you a calculated look up-and-down, he smiled like he was pleased about something.

Remembering your employee duties, you cleared your throat, "H-Hi, can I help you with anything, sir?"

He looked around suddenly, checking out all of the windows like he was making sure no one was following him. "Ah, yes, actually—" he looked back again, trying to flash you another grin like he was trying not to be suspicious, "Do you have any dolls here?"

Your eyes widened in delight; no one ever came for those, "Dolls? Yes, we have some in the back. Follow me." You motioned for the man to go down the aisles with you, but you didn't know Ayatsuji was observing you, too.

He admired your loose braid, fastened by a red gingham bow. The puffy white dress and brown leather mary janes you wore, matching the aesthetic of the store. Cute. The detective thought, wondering if you liked wearing frilly skirts and laced high heels. You'd look pretty like that, you already had such lovely doe eyes.

"Here they are, sir."

"Ayatsuji. My name's Ayatsuji, darling." He shook his head, "I'm not that old yet." You giggled from that, the angelic sound gracing his ears as you blushed from slight embarrassment. You were oblivious to the way your presence captivated him.

Your ruby-tinted lips turned upwards, "These are the dolls, Ayatsuji," you paused, noticing how he admired the ball-jointed dolls on the rack, and explained the assortment to him. His gaze wandered from the dolls to you and back and forth, and he attentively listened until you were done speaking. "Are you buying them for anyone special? A girlfriend or a younger sis—"

His golden eyes cut into you again, but not before a smirk appeared, "No, they're for me. I collect dolls."

You curiously brought a finger to your lips—he was definitiely an interesting man. "Collect dolls, huh? Most customers avoid this rack because they think they're haunted or too creepy." You turned to the side to smile again, recalling the pranks you used to play on your cousins who were scared of dolls.

Ayatsuji sighed, a coy smile still on his face, "Creepy? I don't think so. I actually find them quite enchanting. Dolls are far more intriguing than people. You never grow sick of them." You were surprised to see his face so close to yours, goosebumps crawling up your arms. He looked even better up close, and you were sure the rose coming back on your cheeks didn't hide anything.

You internally scolded yourself for being so attracted to a random customer, but you couldn't help it. Your parents had moved far away from your hometown to open an antique store closer to the city, so you didn't know anyone here. Since you already finished school and felt obligated to help your parents run their shop, you never had time to meet people. Customers were your main form of outside interaction, and hot men never came in.

You're staring at him too much. Look away. Your mind screamed at you, and you abided, coughing awkwardly. You knew it was unethical to fall in love with the first attractive man you could talk to, "I see, um, well, let me know if you have any questions. I'll be by the register—"

Ayatsuji pulled you closer, forcing your uncertainty-filled eyes to look into his again, "Wait, I have a question for you." Time stopped as he pleaded softly. You tapped his arm again, signaling that you weren't leaving. He stared intensely at the dolls again, squininting his eyes as he slowly let go of your shoulders, looking you up and down again.

"These dolls...are there any that look like you?"

You stepped away, cheeks heating up, "Wha-What?" You were startled by the way he so casually asked you that, "O-Oh, you mean any with my style of clothes?" You frantically turned back, grabbing a doll with braided hair and a white puffy dress and trying to shove it into Ayatsuji's hands, but he stopped your motions halfway.

He smirked amusedly at you, entertained by your flustered reaction, "No, darling, I mean any that look like you. With your same complexion, your pretty doe eyes, and beauty."

He spoke like a poet.

"You think I'm beautiful?" You started, not used to the abrupt compliment. "Wait, Ayatsuji, are you flirting with me?" You looked up to see the cheeky man laugh, a cocky grin still present. He nodded again, mumbling a soft mmhmm before tucking a stray piece of hair behind your pearl-adorned ears. You would be fun to dress up.

You opened your mouth, but you were cut off by the bell from the entrance ringing. "Ayatsuji! What the hell do you think you're doing here?! How did you even get past the sniper team?" An angry green-haired women in a suit stormed past the aisles towards you too, making Ayatsuji click his tongue and sigh in annoyance.

"Oh, Tsujimura, as always, you have the worst timing." He turned back to you, softening his facial expression, "Apologies our time has been cut short, darling, I would've loved to chat more with you. Can I—"

A black-gloved hand seized Ayatsuji's shirt collar and shook him aggressively, "Hello! Are you even listening to me?! I'm taking you back now!" He only swatted her hand away dismissively, making her even more mad.

His warm glance turned cold as he faced her, "I heard you the first time, alright?" He pointed to the doll in your hands, "Can I get that delivered to me?"

You were confused by the scene in front of you, but you shook your head, "No, unfortunately we're in-store only." Tsujimura fumed, about to take her wrath out on you next. You swore you could see steam coming out of her ears.

Side-eyeing her, Ayatsuji pulled you into an embrace, a sugary coffee scent filling your nose. He leaned down, whispering in your ear, "No worries, I'll come back for you, my precious doll." You froze, not expecting a hug and unsure if he was talking to you or the inanimate figure.

You felt chilly as his warm body left yours and he took his leave, waving goodbye as he was dragged out left with Tsujimura. What a strange encounter. You shoved the doll under the register and grabbed a cardigan to wrap around yourself, wondering when you'd see him again.

It wasn't until a week later, until you were closing the shop and heard the front door ring again, that you saw Ayatsuji again. Except he looked different. He was wearing a black turtleneck, black belt, and black trousers and shoes. Like he was trying to blend in with the night. It was dark since you'd dimmed most of the bright display lights. His gold eyes were all you could see, but there was a different glint to them.

"A-Ayatsuji! Y-You're back?!" You were taken aback, glad to see him but also a bit cold for some reason. He walked towards you, his boots clacking against the hardwood floor. You ran to meet him, smiling like he was your long-lost lover, and hugged him, wanting to return his gesture from before. His warm breath fanned the shell of your ear as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Hah, I'm glad you missed me too, darling." He stroked your hair, taming the unkept strands, "Can I take the pretty doll home with me now?" Your brows furrowed. He was talking strangely again, but you pulled away to nod and crouch to get the doll from a week ago. Ayatsuji took out a smoking pipe from his pocket, taking a long hit of it before blowing it by your face. You held the doll out, trying to give the figure to him while waving your hand and coughing from the smoke which he wouldn't stop blowing in your direction. You already felt a bit dizzy, and the last thing you remembered was his smirking face before the world turned black.

You were in a cold room full of dolls. It was adorned with old paintings and a Victorian-style bed, but you couldn't shake the feeling of the glass eyes boring into your shivering body—tied to the bed with some silky lace. You tried resisting against it, but it wouldn't budge.

A mocking laugh sent a familiar shiver down your spine, coming directly in front of you. Seated in a throne-like chair in front of you was Ayatsuji, your once charming yet unsettling customer. "Seriously, doll, you really need to stop with these futile escape attempts of yours."

Setting his hat and coat on the arm of the chair, he slowly made his way onto the bed beside you, suddenly turning soft as he caressed your cheek. You hated to admit it, but his warm touch was too easy to relish in and lean into, and it had slowly become the only source of comfort in your bone-chilling enclosure. He smiled in response, "At least try to appreciate me making it pretty and cute for you."

You mumbled a quiet 'thanks' which seemed to satisfy him. He excitedly untied your lace ropes like they were nothing and pulled you into his arms, and you reciprocated his gesture a bit too eagerly.

"I missed you, Ayatsuji. Please don't leave me in here with these dolls all the time." You whimpered, burying your face in your captor's chest, inhaling his coffee-smoke scent. He only continued to stroke your hair, kissing you gently.

"Don't say that, darling—I got all these friends for you since I knew how lonely you were before." The helpless look in your pleading eyes and your needy little pouts always pulled at Ayatsuji's cold heart--he couldn't resist himself from spoiling his precious doll.

You shook your head, "It's not the same...they don't talk to me, and it's so...cold here." Of course, you wouldn't mention the short dress and thin stockings on your body—Ayatsuji took care in picking out different dolly outfits and playing dress-up with you.

He tilted his head innocently, "You're cold? Ah, maybe I should gift you a puffy coat and leg warmers? So you look like one of those pretty slavic dolls?" He cupped your face excitedly with his big hands, scanning your figure up and down with a piercing gaze, "Yeah, you'd look nice like that."

You nodded frantically—anything to cover your exposed skin, making Ayatsuji giggle. "Doll...you know your clothes aren't cheap, right? Especially because I get them tailored to your body..." Your heart started beating. Fast. Ayatsuji always did this--offered something he somehow knew you were in need of in exchange for some sort of affectionate favor. It was all a plot to make you slowly become more dependent on him. And it always worked.

You placed your hands on his chest, getting ready to plead for something nice, "W-What do you want this time? A kiss? Homemade dinner?" You blushed, remembering the times you'd gotten more intimate, "Or se—"

He placed a finger to your lips, "You missed me today, so how about just a sweet little kiss?" He flashed you a caring smile while he leaned back against the head of the bed and patted his lap.

You exhaled shakily, becoming a bit too conscious of what you were wearing. You slowly made your way onto Ayatsuji's lap and pushed his bangs away gently. You told yourself that these acts of affection were just performances, but you started to question how much of it was an act and how much was through your own will. You certainly couldn't stop yourself from shivering when his hands teased your thighs, or the shaky breaths that left as he started drawing circles on your cold skin.

Bringing your face closer to his, you whispered, "I love you, Ayatsuji. Thank you for taking care of me." You dipped down and caught his lips with yours, kissing him passionately as his hands made their way up to wrap around your waist. Your mind was screaming at you not to indulge your kidnapper any further and to pull away, but his touch felt too nice.

You went further, loosening his collar and kissing down his neck. Ayatsuji groaned, pressing you down further against his lap. He felt so warm. "A-Ah, doll, you're so needy today." He pulled you away to gaze at your slightly glassy eyes, which were focused on him only. He started fiddling with the hem of your frilly dress, starting to place light kisses on your collarbone.

You felt cold again suddenly, so you looked up. A bony doll with black eyes was glaring at you shamefully, like it was disappointed in how easily your heart caved in to your captor.

Feeling your body still, Ayatsuji stopped and looked up to see your gaze wandering to the sides of the room where his other dolls were. "Doll—"

"Ayatsuji, how is my family?" You gripped his shoulders and looked back at him, but his face seemed more stoic now. "Are they...still looking for me?" You yelped as you felt his fingers dig into your hips.

"Darling, you're not supposed to worry about them anymore." He sighed dejectedly. Your eyes widened again when he squished your cheeks and pulled your face back down. "Dolls should just look pretty and give all their attention to their owners, right? You know that, don't you, love?" He shook your face softly as tears threatened to spill and the warmth left your body.

"Awww, don't cry and ruin your makeup, doll. Don't you still want that coat?" He pulled you down on his lap again and stroked your hair while wiping the drops forming by your eyes, careful not to smudge your eye makeup. He kissed near your ear before whispering into it, "Just keep kissing me, okay? You're so close."

You felt broken, but you couldn't disobey him. He was the only one looking after you now, and you knew you couldn't escape him. Shaking slightly, you placed your lips back on his, holding onto him for dear life. He exhaled blissfully again, happy you were back to being compliant.

"Like that, doll. I love you so much, you know? Just stay with me and don't think about anything else."

#vanilladove #vanilladovebsd #【ｖａｎｉ＇ｓ　ｓｐｏｏｋｔｏｂｅｒ　２０２４】#ayatsuji x reader #yukito ayatsuji #bsd ayatsuji #ayatsuji yukito #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #this is for the ayatsuji girlies...we're small but mighty fr #spooktober #kinktober

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pedrospatch · 2 years ago

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stay

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Reader

summary: You’re in Jackson with Joel and Ellie after Salt Lake City and the loss of somebody you failed to protect haunts you and leaves you wondering if the wound will ever heal—and how you’ll ever go on if it never does.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. child death, reader takes the life of a child. (TW) implied panic attack, implied SI, reader has a moment where she contemplates taking her own life, NO ACTUAL ATTEMPT. angst, soft, caring Joel. no age specified for reader, no physical descriptions of reader.

word count: 3.7k

2024

Late Spring

Jackson, Wyoming

You’d woken up early that morning, right before sunrise.

Eyes fluttering open, you blinked furiously into the darkness of the bedroom. Your bedroom.

Your bedroom in an actual house. One that didn’t have crumbling, dusty walls.

One that was an actual, real place to call home.

As you tried to move, the strong arm around your waist tightened and held you firmly in place.

Turning your head, you saw Joel’s face just inches away from yours. He was still fast asleep, his bare chest slowly rising and falling with each and every peaceful, tranquil breath he inhaled and exhaled through slightly parted lips. He’d finally stopped mumbling in his sleep.

You’d been in Jackson with him and Ellie for just about a week or so now, and you still hadn’t quite gotten used to it—waking up in a soft, warm bed with his arms around you.

Maybe you would never get used to it.

Being careful not to wake Joel, you slipped out of his grasp and sat up. Swinging your legs over the side of your shared bed, you planted your two feet on the cold, hardwood floors and stood up, doing your best to move around without having to turn the lights on so as not to disturb his slumber. You quickly but quietly searched around, using both of your hands to feel for the thin, cotton white tank top and dark gray pajama bottoms that had been discarded, strewn somewhere across the master bedroom the previous night by none other than Joel Miller himself. He had gotten rid of them as he’d hovered over you, tossing them carelessly over his shoulder so that he could spend the next several hours learning every single part of your body, almost as if he’d been getting to know it for the very first time.

It took you a minute, but you’d finally found your clothes, tugging them on before padding your way into the bathroom where you flipped on the lights and began running the water in the sink to brush your teeth—hell, even having a clean toothbrush and real toothpaste were sweet little luxuries that were also taking some getting used to.

You finished washing your mouth and splashed a bit of cool water onto your face, drying it off with a hand towel before turning off the sink as well as the lights. Leaving yours and Joel’s bedroom, you made your way downstairs into the kitchen. Joel and Ellie were also early risers, and they would be up within the hour. Since you were up, you figured it would be nice to have a hot breakfast ready and waiting for them.

First thing was first, you started an instant pot of coffee for yourself and for Joel, although truth be told it was mostly for Joel, as the man refused to drink anything else in the mornings. As it brewed and the dark brown liquid dripped slowly into the glass pot, you moved over to the refrigerator and pulled open the door. The sight of a fridge stocked with real, proper food was almost like a fucking dream. You reached for the small basket of farm fresh chicken eggs that you’d picked up from the community’s market earlier that week when you and Ellie had gone food shopping. You set it down on the counter and looked through the wooden cabinets, grabbing a large, white porcelain bowl to scramble up the eggs in. You held it in your hands, an odd feeling washing over you.

Oh yes, this would all certainly taking some getting used to, all of it of it would take some getting used to—having shelter, running water, food and clean clothes. Not spending every goddamn fucking day fighting just to survive.

You glanced down at the bowl you gripped in your two hands, and felt your heart squeeze painfully inside of your chest.

Any normal person would have been relieved to be in this safe haven. Happy, even.

But not you, because all that you could think about was Lily, and how she wasn’t here.

2023

Early Fall

Midwest United States

The bite mark was on her shoulder.

It was still fresh, but the clock was already ticking like a time bomb.

You knew that. She knew that.

Everyone in that fucking basement knew that.

“Please,” Lily begged you, clutching fistfuls of your jacket. “Please.”

“No,” You choked out, feeling like someone had just punched you in the gut, knocking all the wind out out of your lungs. You turned back and looked over your shoulder at Joel, who stood there with his jaw clenched tightly, his dark brown eyes fixed on the dirty floor. Beside him, Ellie was wringing her hands together, fighting back her tears. You turned back to Lily, somehow finding your voice again. “No. I can’t do it. I won’t fucking do it.”

You blamed yourself for this.

The house the four of you had chosen to occupy for the night hadn’t been completely cleared out. You should have known better than to even think about cutting corners, you should have checked every goddamn room from the ground up, twice. If you had been more thorough, you would have realized that there had been a clicker down in the basement, silent and still, that is until Ellie and Lily had gone off exploring the entire house in such of possible supplies and garnered its attention, riling it up. It had gone after the girls while you and Joel were upstairs, and although Ellie had managed to shoot it dead in seconds, the damage had been done—the clicker managed to sink its teeth into your twelve year old sister, infecting her.

“Please, please don’t let me turn into one of those things,” Lily sank down, falling onto her knees in front of you. Letting go of your jacket, she clasped her hands together in a pleading motion. “Please! I don’t want to turn, not like mom and dad did. Not like Sam did. I need you to end it here, right now before it’s too late.”

“No!” You bit out the word once again through gritted teeth, white hot tears burning your eyes. “I won’t do that.”

Joel stood there, not knowing what to say or what to do.

Hell, there was really nothing he could say or do, was there?

Lily was infected—it was already a fucking death sentence.

And while he understood that she wanted to go out her way, he also understood that you couldn’t even fathom having to do the unthinkable. That you couldn’t even think about putting a bullet in your kid sister.

“I don’t have the guts to do it myself,” Lily said, her voice trembling. “I barely know how to use a gun. Please, you have to do it for me.”

You stared at her desperate face, the first of every single fucking tear that you would ever cry for the rest of your life finally slipping out of the corner of your eye and trickling its way down your cheek.

It was what Lily truly wanted, but how could you take her life?

The child that you’d raised yourself for the last ten years. Life could be so fucking cruel in a world like this one, but this, this was something else.

Still, what other choice was there?

It was either end it now, or abandon her in this old, crumbling house, leaving her all by herself to lose her mind.

Lily didn’t want that, and if her one final wish was to die on her terms, then you had no other choice but to fucking grant it for her. It didn’t matter how hard it was going to break you.

She didn’t have another option, and neither did you.

“Okay.” The agreement finally left your lips shakily. Your heart slammed hard against your chest wall, and your entire body had gone ice cold. “Okay.”

“No!” Ellie screamed, shoving you out of the way so roughly that she almost knocked you over. She grabbed Lily and hoisted her to her feet, wrapping her arms around her. Ellie held Lily protectively against her side, eyeing the spot where she knew you kept your gun tucked in the waistband of your jeans. “No, please, there has to be something we can fucking do!” She thought back to Sam and how what she’d done with her blood and his bite wound hadn’t worked to save his life. She held Lily tighter, knowing nothing else could be done and that her name would only be added to the growing list of people that she’d lost.

“Ellie,” Joel said her name softly, the softest that anyone had heard him say it since she’d come into your lives.

Her brown eyes met his and a tear escaped her.

“Fuck,” she whispered, devastated.

“It’s okay, Ellie. It’ll be okay.” Lily placed a hand on her arm. As she did so, everyone caught a glimpse of the way it’d twitched. “I don’t have much time left,” she said, nudging Ellie. She turned to face her, and offered her an encouraging smile. “Keep on going, okay? Do it for Tess. Do it for Sam. Do it for me. Do it for the whole world. Promise me that you’re gonna make it to the Fireflies. Promise me that you’re gonna make it to the very end. Please.”

“I promise I’ll make it to the end,” Ellie whispered, pulling her into her arms one last time.

Joel looked at you as you took out your pistol with a trembling hand.

“M’so sorry,” he whispered, gently touching your shoulder. He then turned to Ellie and beckoned for her with his hand. As much as Joel didn’t want to leave you to do this alone, he knew he had to get Ellie out of there and out of the house. “C’mon.”

Helpless, Ellie meekly nodded her head without protest.

“Joel, be sure to cover her ears,” You instructed him quietly. “Even outside she might still be able to hear it.”

Joel gave a small, tight nod of his head. He walked over and gingerly touched Lily’s cheek in his silent goodbye to her before taking Ellie’s arm. “Let’s go,” he murmured, pulling her over towards the stairs. A few seconds later, the two of them were gone and the door of the basement shut closed with a loud, aggressive slam that you knew had to have come from Ellie.

Swallowing harshly, you went up to Lily. Taking her into your arms, you pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. It felt abnormally warm, a sure fire sign that the infection was running rampant inside of her—that she was running out of time.

“I’m sorry ,” Your voice broke in the middle of your apology. You held her close, your hand cradling the back of her head as she nuzzled her face into your neck, inhaling your scent deeply for the very last time. “I’m so sorry that I couldn’t keep you safe and sound like I promised I would.”

“Look at it this way.” Lily’s arms tightened around your waist. “Nothing or no one will ever be able to hurt me ever again. I’m gonna be safe up there in heaven with mom and dad and the three of us are gonna be watching over you. And Ellie and Joel, too.”

It was unbelievable. Here she was, fucking twelve years old and about to die, and she was trying to comfort you.

You held her even closer, nearly smothering her as the two of you began to cry in each other’s arms.

After a few minutes, Lily pulled away from you.

Her twitches were becoming more frequent with each second that ticked by.

“Please, let’s just do this before it’s too late,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with the back of her jerking hand.

You rigidly nodded your head, your legs feeling like jello as you took several steps backwards, leaving about six feet of distance between the both of you.

You lifted your arm, aiming the barrel of the gun at your little sister.

“I love you,” Lily offered you a feeble, watery smile.

“I love you too,” You whispered back to her before your finger finally pulled the trigger.

You closed your eyes, your heart sinking deeply as you tried to forget the way that she’d been gone before her body had even hit the cold, hard ground of that basement.

Instead, you tried to think of something else. But you just couldn’t.

Lily should have been here with you. With Joel, with Ellie. Her family.

Not dead, buried in a shallow grave somewhere in the middle of fucking nowhere.

She would have been so happy here in Jackson.

Safe.

She would have been safe.

“She’s gone,” You told yourself, willing the fact to get through your thick skull once and for all.

As the image of your sister’s sweet smile came into your mind again, something in you finally snapped, like a rubber band that had been pulled too tight for far too long.

“She’s gone!” Your scream tore itself from the back of your throat. “She’s gone! She’s fucking gone and she’s not coming back!”

Taking the bowl in your hands, you flung it across the kitchen with all your might, watching it as it hit the wall and shattered into pieces. You turned back towards the cabinet, both hands reaching for anything and everything you could get your hands on—plates, bowls, glasses. Once the cabinet had been emptied out, you went for all of the dishes and appliances on the counter, throwing and breaking everything in sight. When you’d finally run out of items to destroy, you sank down to your knees right onto a pile of broken glass. As you did so, you noticed one particularly large shard of glass with a pointed, jagged edge.

Picking it up, you grasped it so tightly in your trembling hand that you began to bleed as it sliced into your palm.

Was it even fucking worth it?

Being alive without her?

What was the fucking point?

The guilt of what happened to Lily would eat you alive for the rest of your life, especially here in Jackson, where you were living the very same life that you had wanted to provide for your sister for so many fucking years but never could.

Your eyes glazed over the sharp point of the glass, and then flickered to the thin, delicate flesh of the lower portion of your forearm—a gun would be so much quicker, less messy. It would be painless, and a hell of a lot better than nicking a vein and letting yourself bleed out on the kitchen floor.

But if the opportunity presented itself, why not take it regardless of the method?

Still clutching the glass, images of Joel and Ellie suddenly flashed in your mind.

They were family.

Your family.

As much as you wanted to put an end to the pain, you knew with every fiber of your being that Lily would want you to stay. If not for yourself, then for them. Because that was the kind of girl she was.

So good, so sweet. Full of hope.

Everything had blurred and your mind was lost in such a thick haze that it took you a minute to realize that Joel was shouting your name—the sounds of your screaming, of glass and porcelain breaking, it had woken both him and Ellie and they had ran down the stairs in a panic.

Ellie gasped your name and started towards you, but Joel grabbed her and held her back when he realized she was barefoot. “Careful, the glass!”

“Joel, fucking do something!” Ellie demanded, her eyes widening in horror when she saw the glass in your hand and the way that you’d been looking at your wrist in something of a trance.

Joel hadn’t been wearing any shoes either, hell, he’d barely managed to tug a shirt on over his head and it was inside out, but he quickly and carefully made is his way over to you. He crouched down beside you and immediately took your arm, giving it a shake so you would drop the shard of glass.

His warm touch brought you back to earth.

“Joel?” You squeaked out his name, your heart pounding.

You felt tears prickling at your eyes, and you opened your mouth to let out a sob, but nothing came out. Your cries were lodged in the back of your throat and you felt stuck in your lungs. You suddenly felt like you couldn’t take a breath and started to hyperventilate.

“Hey, hey, hey. Breathe. Look at me,” he said. He palmed the side of your face and gently, but firmly forced you to meet his gaze. Your eyes were wide, pupils dilated. “Look at me, I’m here. We’re both here, me and Ellie. We’re right here. Breathe for me darlin,’ just breathe.”

You frantically nodded, as if to tell him, I’m trying.

It took a minute or two until finally, your gasps for air slowed down.

When they finally did, you began sobbing uncontrollably.

“Oh baby. C’mere,” Joel murmured. He pulled you up to your feet and moved you to a spot that wasn’t covered in broken dishware. He held you against his chest, stroking your hair.

Ellie joined in, and they both just held you in silence until your wails of agony subsided several minutes later.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized through little hiccups. “I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t fucking be sorry,” Ellie immediately stopped you, her hand rubbing at your back. She pulled back and looked at the blood stain on Joel’s light gray t-shirt. “Oh shit, Joel. Her hand, look at her hand.”

Joel looked down, alarmed, but he remained calm. “Ellie, go upstairs into our bathroom. There’s a first aid kid under the sink.”

She nodded and whirled around, bolting out of the kitchen.

In the blink of an eye, she’d returned with a small white tin box with a red cross etched onto the lid. She handed it to him. “Here.”

Taking it in one hand, Joel used his other hand to guide you over to the kitchen table. He sat you down and then pulled a chair out for himself, taking a seat across from you.

“She going to be okay?” Ellie asked, worriedly.

“Doesn’t look too deep, at least not deep enough to need stitches. It should be okay,” Joel stated as he opened up the first aid kit. “Ellie, mind if I have a minute alone with her?” He saw her open her mouth to protest and gave her a look. “Please.”

She huffed, but nodded. She touched your shoulder lightly and left the room, though both you and Joel were positive she’d stick around out in the hallway to eavesdrop.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered hoarsely, breaking a silence that had fallen over the two of you. “I’ll clean this mess up—”

“You think that’s what I’m worried about?” Joel asked, placing your hand in his lap as he poured hydrogen peroxide onto a wad of cotton. He picked it up and gingerly started cleaning your wound. He sighed, shaking his head. “Funny thing is, I knew you’d snap sooner or later. But truth be told, darlin’ I didn’t think this would be the way you’d let it all out.”

You stared at him. “What do you mean you knew I’d snap?”

Joel looked up from your cut, his gaze meeting yours. “I know you like I know the back of my own fuckin’ hand,” he reminded you. “And I know what you’ve been carryin’ around after what happened with Lily. That feelin’ you’ve been bottlin’ up for months now. I know what it’s like to carry that kinda burden on your shoulders. It’s heavy, and at some point, you ain’t got no choice but to put it down.” He paused. “Only, I was hopin’ you would do so by talkin’ to me, not destroyin’ the kitchen of this house.”

“I don’t know what happened,” You admitted, softly. “One minute I was down here getting ready to make us all breakfast, and the next, I just fucking lost it.” You chewed anxiously on your bottom lip. “I just kept thinking about how Lily should be here with us. And how she would be, if I hadn’t failed her.”

Joel frowned. “You didn’t—”

“I fucking did, Joel. I failed at protecting my sister. I failed at keeping her safe, alive.”

Letting out another sigh, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against your forehead. He spoke, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Baby, you can’t keep blamin’ yourself for somethin’ that was out of your control.”

“But it was in my control, Joel. I should have checked every goddamn crevice of that fucking house, because if I had, Lily would still be alive. She would be here in Jackson with us, living the life that she always deserved to live.”

Joel leaned his forehead against yours. “Look, I know that nothin’ I say is goin’ to make it better. Nothin’ I say is goin’ to bring her back and m’sorry,” he said. “But you need to know that it wasn’t your fault. You did the best you could. I know that her bein’ gone hurts. Trust me I know that feelin’ all too well.”

Another tear slipped down the side of your face and he reached up, lightly brushing it away with his thumb.

Of course he knew the feeling.

The scar on his temple was a testament of how well he knew that feeling, of how he knew exactly what it felt like to want to end it all after losing someone so precious.

Only, he had actually tried to end it all.

Joel’s voice broke into your thoughts. “I need you to know that you’re not alone, baby. You ain’t gotta carry your grief alone. You’ve got Ellie, and you sure as hell got me. We’re both here to help you through anythin’ that you need, alright? We’ve got you—I’ve got you.”

“I know you do.” Your voice broke once more and you swallowed back another sob.

Joel brushed his lips against yours. Sitting back into his chair he lifted your hand and inspected it thoroughly. “Don’t think there’s any glass in it,” he observed. He started bandaging your hand with a roll of gauze from the first aid kit.

“Thank you, Joel,” You murmured as soon as he had finished patching you up. “And I’m sorry. Not about the mess, but about what I thought about doing.”

Joel reached out, cradling the side of your face. His thumb grazed the soft skin of your cheek. “I need you to stay, baby,” he whispered, his own voice thickening with emotion. “Me and Ellie, we both need you to stay. You understand me?”

You placed your hand on top of his, nodding as your eyes met his once more.

“I’ll stay,” You promised him.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #tlou fanfiction #tlou imagine #joel miller imagine #joel miller hbo

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pumpkinbxtch · 8 months ago

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𓇼 the sun & the sea 𓇼 〰✷〰

— apollo / lester x daughter of poseidon!reader

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv |

☆ radiostar is playin': blackbird by the beatles…! // eye of the night by conan gray...! // meet me in the woods by lord huron...!

warnings: none n/a: i'm so fuckin' proud of the prophecy i created. it's all, thank you. taglist: @emidpsandia

You arrived when the fun was already over, or well, something like that.

As soon as you got off Pegasus, your heavy steps echoed through the gravel, and the glasses of water belonging to some tired campers rattled at your presence. Percy turned around when he noticed everyone staring at him as if he was about to die soon. Despite being surprised by a tornado of water glasses swirling where the dining hall was supposed to be, he feared more the way you were looking at him. It took him quite a bit not to step back to avoid humiliating himself.

— Percy, what the fuck?! — You shouted, and he nervously smiled.

— Sis.

— None of that 'sis' crap — You approached, gave him a smack on the head, and he complained — I go out for a few hours with Mom to buy stuff for dinner, and you escape. You said you wouldn't come.

— How did you know?

— Blackjack.

— Oh.

Everything turned out as you feared, things didn't look good, and your brother ended up saving the stupid Apollo's butt again. After having an exclusive report about what was happening there, at the Big House, with Chiron, Dionysus, and Percy, the only reaction you got from yourself was a loud bang on the table that made the utensils jump.

— Sister…

— Where's Apollo? — The two older ones tensed up, and Percy just sighed.

— He'll leave in the morning, us too, just…— he growled as he nervously scratched the back of his neck. Now he understood why they were so alike, and sometimes that wasn't exactly a compliment. — let it go, he's having a really hard time.

— A god — You said incredulously.

— Ex — Your brother corrected, and he settled impatiently in his seat, as he had found something more important to tell you in order to divert your attention. — Leo is alive. — He announced, and you opened your mouth slightly with surprise. With that, Percy believed he was winning. — Listen, while we were all solving the, well, “inconvenience” at the beach, he was at Apollo's cabin. They wanted to make sure he's okay before he leaves with Apollo in the morning. He'll help him with his mission, not us.

— Oh, Percy — Dionysus sighed as he rubbed his temple with disappointment. He never believed his ability to make things worse was real or unintentional until he said that.

— What? — He said innocently until he turned his gaze towards you.

Your blood began to boil, and with anger, you managed to bend a metal knife from the fine cutlery that Chiron had barely acquired. The half-equine sighed silently, and before it could bid farewell to the rest of its tableware, it hoped you would keep calm. And calm was what you had been lacking for a few days now.

“Of course,” Percy thought, his lips pursed, “who would have liked to hear that at that moment?”

Shortly after, the three of them found themselves grappling with you to prevent you from leaving the house straight to meet Apollo.

— APOLLO! — You shouted fiercely, your voice echoing through every corner of the camp, as you managed to break free from their grip, and Dionysus had no choice but to make you faint.

— Alright, kid, you've exceeded your bedtime — And he touched your temple, making you lose strength in your legs.

You fought against that magic, but you only managed to reach the porch, with blurred vision and distorted hearing. There were only a few voices that you heard clearly in your mind before losing consciousness.

“Come to the forest, find us, you don't have to ask”

The campers stopped their final nocturnal activities and admired your body being dragged back into the Big House. When Percy greeted them casually while holding your ankle, they knew it was better not to ask. And although everyone found it totally normal, in the corner of Apollo's cabin, he himself was clutching his legs tightly, trembling and with teary eyes. Was there anything worse than the love of your life hating you to death? And the answer, for him, was no because he knew it and knew it so well that he was tired of it.

“Find us, you don't have to ask”

“come find us”

“You don't have to ask”

“Apollo is…”

You woke up startled and pulled the sheets with cold despite it being mid-spring. You were in your bed, and Percy was sleeping in his, everything seemed fine, so where had those voices come from?

— Damn Dionysus, you've made me crazy — You whispered as you lay back down and tried to sleep.

“The sea and the Sun...”

“Come find us”

“You don't have to ask”

You opened your eyes and looked around, was madness real? Or was something really calling you? Instinct spoke first for you, and with bare feet, you got out of bed, then out of the cabin. Just as if it were a charm, you only knew you had to go to the forest, and your feet obeyed that sudden desire.

“They can't come in now. Not until Rachel knows what's going on or how Apollo's grove works,” Chiron said at the table, just before everything went to hell.

“Especially you, girl, we know you, and we're telling you not to dare,” Dionysus warned.

“You don't have to ask,” the voice insisted, as if it knew what was going through your head at that moment, and without knowing what awaited you, you took the first step into the forest where your only company was the moonlight.

— Dionysus — Chiron warned. He appeared calm, however, the alarm in his words betrayed him. Of course, why wouldn't it, since he had just seen you enter the forest in nothing but your pajamas.

— We can't do anything now. The Grove found her, and as we've already seen with the other campers, it won't stop until she hears what it has to say. The good thing is that the Grove already has its voices channeled. — Dionysus leaned his forehead against the windowpane, still holding his coffee cup tightly, and let out a sigh. — Funny thing is that Apollo himself gave the girl the keys to know her destiny. What an idiot.

The truth was you didn't know how you had gotten there, but you could hear the murmurs guiding you among the trees, and it was late when a wave of fear enveloped you. You tried to run away when in front of you there was a set of trees different from those in the forest, and that's when you knew you had reached the Dodona Grove. You admired it, and immediately felt the presence of something utterly ancient, so old that you would never dare to defy it.

So, as if they knew of your arrival, the wind blew, and you saw some wind chimes hanging from the branches swirling with the breeze, making small whirls until they finally collided with each other. The chimes caused a tinkling that simultaneously deafened your surroundings, almost as if you had been submerged in water. For a moment, you were unable to hear anything, you looked up, and your eyes blinked with the moonlight.

The voices that began to form as if traveling from afar to be heard gave you a twist in the stomach, that which you had dreamed of for a long time was about to be given to you.

"The sea and the sun are not far away as they look, even the greatest can't hide what the lovers need to through. One will long while the other fight, nothing more to do even if you try. It's the price to pay, no matter if the sun doesn't shine again, cause this is no more than the consequence. Cry a river or flood with love, all hangs in the hands of the man who now you love. This rhymes for him were different, but he hopes for put that ring and find what he's been missing."

The voices ceased, and they finished reading your future to you. Every word kept resonating in your mind, you remained speechless, you had no way of assimilating that instantly. You wanted to review those words better and hope for the best, and what was that? That it wouldn't be what you suspected? Or that it would come true just like that? You couldn't answer any of those questions.

Stunned, you began to walk back, or what you supposed was the way back. With a blank stare, murmuring the statements, shortly after, you realized that you were actually somewhat lost. You took several turns and felt overwhelming how the trees surrounded you, as if they were mocking you. It wasn't until the sun peeked out that you finally saw a path, which you found ironic. At that moment, you were only capable of responding to that, then as usual, your mind didn't let you be happy even for a moment when Percy's words reached your ears.

“They'll leave in the morning, just like us.”

And you ran. No matter how much your feet hurt, or how many times the branches of the trees hit you or got stuck in your clothes, you never stopped running, but you simply didn't seem to get anywhere. Your breath was short, you had to see Apollo before he left. You had to catch up with him and ask for an explanation, after all, he was the god of poetry and prophecy, so he could explain it to you in more detail… he… he… He had also hidden it from you, but why?

You ran even faster, pleaded with the gods, with the trees, whoever could hear you, to let you out of the forest. It was several minutes later that you saw the lights of the camp, as if they had always been there. You emerged, and many campers alerted your arrival, you must have looked terrible judging by their reactions.

— Where's Apollo?

— What? — Said a Demeter kid, who struggled to get the branches out of your hair, you just wanted to push them aside.

— Apollo, where is he? — You gasped and looked as Percy ran towards you.

— Sister!

— Percy!

They let you go with him, you almost crashed into his arms, and he held you tightly.

— Apollo.

Percy frowned and snorted.

— Again with that topic?

— No, where's Apollo, Percy? — Your serious face worried him, and he shook his head.

— They left almost at the end of the dawn, they left earlier than expected. — Your tears began to flow, and you struggled from your brother's grip. — What the hell's going on?

— Miss Jackson.

Everyone looked behind you, and you didn't bother to do otherwise. Dionysus and Chiron were looking at you anxiously, you could even notice their bloodshot eyes, as if they hadn't been able to sleep all night.

— That's why they didn't want me to get close to any oracle, prophet, or skeleton.

Your words were thinking, and realization could be heard in them.

— What are you talking about? — Percy asked, and you clenched your fists.

Chiron stepped back and pointed to the Big House, you just scoffed and walked into it with big steps, hitting your feet against the grass. Adrenaline was such that you didn't stop to think that it would hurt later.

— You have to go back to New Rome — You looked up and gave them a puzzled look, you couldn't believe what they were asking you.

— You want me to go back to New Rome with THIS happening?

Dionysus growled, and Percy kept his gaze fixed on his feet, barely managing to assimilate all the information he had been given.

— Girl, go back and mind your own business. The prophecy says so, you can't do anything.

— That's true, it's all in Apollo's hands.

— But—! — You cut off your sentence. Why were you fighting with that? You weren't in love with him, you denied him. He was a god, what kind of pity could you feel for him? They always made you flee from prophecies, most of the gods suck… but in that forest, something had changed. It was as if you had been able to see the truth of something, but it would still take you to put it all together. No matter.

Apollo… you never knew him so closely, was that intentional too? It doesn't matter, anyway, you knew he was an idiot. They called you “lovers” when both barely knew each other, maybe all that was a mistake, but it doesn't matter because you felt nothing for him, and without that, nothing made sense.

Dionysus and Chiron still watched you attentively, while Percy had already leaned on his forearms on the table, looking at you intently, as if trying to figure out what you were thinking. You sighed and started to feel pain in your feet.

— I hope Leo returns safely. after all, I couldn't see him — You said firmly, but with a hollow feeling in your stomach. You looked at your brother and smiled as if nothing had happened.— Let's go, Percy. Mom must be worried, and I have to go back to New Rome.

Before anyone could say anything, you left the house limping slightly straight to Apollo's cabin, it really hurt, and you couldn't afford to get sick before going back to college.

Percy got up and looked at the two older ones, his gaze hardened, as soon as he considered everything that had been hidden from him, too, but he didn't allow those feelings to take center stage. He wanted you to be happy.

— Do you think he'll come back? — He asked, and Chiron hummed while Dionysus made a somewhat discouraging face.

— It's hard to say, Percy. — Chiron sighed and shook his head, considering the odds. — Many things are at stake, not just Apollo returning to being a god.

That was enough for him, he was already used to the slim chances of success on a mission.

— Provided Apollo isn't as much of an idiot as usual and messes up. His egocentric butt is sure to get him into trouble, not to mention the fact that he has no powers. — Dionysus let out a small laugh that made Percy consider the supposed brotherhood he had with Apollo — He's like a newborn jaguar set loose in the cruel tropical forest called life.

— Work on your jokes, Mr. D — Percy said with disgust, and the god bared his teeth at him.

Your brother insisted on driving the car, he thought you had already done enough, besides making it clear that he didn't trust you after you spent the whole night awake in the forest. Obviously, you didn't have any ways to defend yourself, because it was true, and you were grateful for that, there was enough of that shit swirling in your head that you were trying to forget.

With the window down, the breeze caressing your hair, and the immense silence, Percy found it impossible not to ask.

— Do you feel anything for him? — He asked, and you were surprised that this time it had taken him longer to stick his nose in the gossip. You shook your head.

— No, Percy. Maybe, being kept away from him all this time has its advantage, and I'll never fall in love with him because I don't see how I could do that without even being close or knowing him better — You sighed and pretended something your brother longed to see, a smile because it was the first one in those days.

— Maybe that stupid prophecy is so old and stale that it's useless.

Percy nodded silently with his hands almost sunk into the steering wheel and his eyes fixed on the road ahead. More than anyone, he knew that couldn't be true; more than anyone, he knew that stupid prophecies always found their way, but he didn't want to say it out loud.

— Yes, maybe you're right — He said without conviction, and you could also feel the improbability in your own conjectures.

#maría's shared dreams☆｡ﾟ✧#trials of apollo #apollo pjo #apollo x you #apollo x reader #apollo pjo x reader #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #pjo #lester papadopoulos #lester papadopoulos x y/n #lester papadopoulos x you #lester papadopoulos x reader #lester x you #lester x reader

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sprunkimortality · 10 days ago

Note

Don't worry Durple, we now know that Grey was the one giving kisses to Mr. Fun Computer. ^_^

Durple: "Oh alri-"

Durple: "Wait WHAT?"

Wenda: "Oh my gosh, spill the tea sis!"

Gray: "Huff...huff...huff..."

Gray: "I...I kinda expected this to happen eventually..."

Gray: "...but I'm more worried about how he'll react to finding out that people know. He has...very big feelings."

#sprunki #incredibox sprunki #sprunki incredibox #sprunki au #sprunki mortality #sprunki mortality au #sprunki durple #sprunki gray #gray x mr fun computer #mr fun computer x gray #🕛

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saberlight1 · 1 year ago

Text

— lost signals & tunes, coriolanus snow

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

warnings: slight tbosas spoilers, angst, mentions of violence, injustice in the districts, possessive!snow, trauma, kinda mean!snow, talks of a breakup, arguments, standard ballad of songbirds and snakes warnings.

authors note: i’m back for round 3!!! i’m so happy that you all like this series so far as much as i do. here are the links to part 1 & 2, if you missed them. this one is sad and angsty, i’m sorry. the song y/n sings is by frank santra! anyways, i hope you enjoy this one! much love.

masterlist

Since your last real conversation with Coriolanus, he had been acting different. He was colder, and you didn’t know if you were simply going crazy, or if he just going out of his way to ignore you.

But regardless, you were hurt. When you tried to speak to him, he would say he had somewhere to be. And maybe he did, but you just wished he’d spend time with you.

You missed him, really.

Lucy Gray frowned as she watched you from across the room. You and the Covey were all getting ready backstage at the Hob where you were set to perform shortly. Even if you were cousins, you and Lucy Gray were brought up as sisters and knew the other probably better than you knew yourselves.

She watched you as you were deep in thought, and she knew something was troubling you. She walked over, and with a click of her tongue she gained your attention.

With a raise of her eyebrows you already knew what she was thinking. “Lucy Gray, please. Not right now,”

She raised her hands up in surrender, sitting down next to you on the couch. “I was just gonna ask what was wrong,”

“I’m sorry,” You sighed, rubbing your temple. “I’m stressed out,”

“Talk to me,” She softly smiled, her hand coming up to comfortably rub your shoulder.

“Coriolanus has just been acting weird, and I don’t know why. I think.. I think when we were at the lake I said something that he didn’t like, or something.” You vented. “Just ever since we got back, he’s been off. Or maybe I’m just delusional.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at yourself. “Christ, Gray, I’m loosin’ it.”

She giggled. “You got a bad case of the love blues, it sounds to me, Y/N.” She repeated the same thing your mothers used to say all the time when talking about past relationships.

A small smile blessed your features. “I think you may be on to somethin’.” You sighed, again. “I just wish he’d at least talk to me, y’know? Let me know whatever I’ve done, so I can fix it, or if he wants to break up just fuckin’ tell me. I hate when shit just lingers.”

“I know.” She shook her head. “Listen, if he doesn’t realize how damn good he’s got it, then he ain’t worth it. You know better. And I know you two got history and what not, but if he stressin’ you out so bad you can’t even enjoy a performance, I’d say ya need to talk to the boy.” She explained, shrugging. “Or leave his ass. You deserve better,”

You chuckled. “Only you, Lucy Gray, could manage to make me laugh while talking about my relationship problems.” You shook your head, playfully.

A smile came back to her face. “You know it, now, c’mon we got a show to play.” She stood up, holding her hand out for you to take.

She brought you over to the rest of the Covey, Issac immediately bringing you into a side hug.

“Aye, sis, you want me to kick that boy’s ass?�� He asked, smiling goofy.

You laughed. “No, please.”

“Alright, alright.“ He shook his head. “Let’s go, folks!”

Once you all were out on stage, all of the struggles and worries wrestling around your mind faded, and a smile brightly displayed on your face as you sang along with your family. You didn’t even realize how fast it was going by because you were enjoying yourself.

Until you saw his smirk in that crowd.

You were scanning the crowd as normal, loving to see all of different people coming to together to enjoy music when you saw him. He was in the back of the room, alone, his arms crossed over his chest as he smirked at you.

His gaze almost made you feel uneasy, his sharp eyes boring into yours. Lucy Gray wrapped up one of her songs, turning on her heel and winking at you, her signal to let you know it was your turn on the mic.

You sighed before standing up, grabbing your guitar and walking up to the mic.

“Hey, twelve,” You smiled, looking at the crowd. “How y’all doin’ tonight, huh?” They all cheered in return, making your smile grow bigger. “That’s what I like to hear! Alright, here’s the song.”

Over and over, I keep goin’ over the world we knew.

You began, singing deeply and sharply into the mic, staring into Coriolanus’ eyes.

Once when you walked beside me,

That inconceivable, that unbelievable world we knew,

When we two were in love.

Your eyes burned into his as the rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only you and him as you sang to him. He knew it was about him, most of your songs were.

And every bright neon sign turned into stars,

And the sun and the moon seemed to be ours.

Each road that we took turned into gold,

But the dream was too much for you to hold.

Your voice boomed across the pub, the couples holding each other and the singles downing their shots in misery. You touched all their hearts with the song, somehow. His eyebrows furrowed as he truly listened to the lyrics, seeing how you wrote about your love and pain, and he wondered if it was still about him.

I mean, he hadn’t hurt you, right? He didn’t think him ignoring you for a week or two would push you this far.

Now, over and over I keep goin’ over the world we knew.

Days when you used to love me.

Issac and Cece took over for the music break, as you turned to blink away the tears that threatened to spill.

And every bright neon sign turned into stars,

And the sun and the moon seemed to be ours.

Each road that we took, it turned into the gold,

But the dream was too much for you to hold.

The tears only got closer to dropping from your eyes as you kept singing, just trying to get through the song. You tried focusing on the beautiful music the Covey produced behind you and put your all into your singing.

Now, over and over I keep goin’ over the world we knew.

Days when you used to love me,

Over and over I keep goin’ over that world we knew.

You finished with one last strum of your guitar, and the melodies of Lucy Gray and Maudie Ivory next to you. The crowd erupted in cheers and claps.

“Thank you!” You smiled as the rest of your family joined you, bowing. After saying your goodbyes, you stalked off stage as fast as you could, ignoring the concerned gaze from Coriolanus.

“Your singing was beautiful, I love that song.” Lucy Gray said as she walked beside you. “But I do want to give that boy a stern talkin’ to for makin’ you feel that way.”

You grabbed her wrist. “No, Lucy. Let me talk to him.” She looked at you with raised brows, the pair of you exchanging words with your eyes. Eventually she nodded, stepping forward and letting you walk.

You walked through the corridor that led back out to the dance floor, your eyes looking for that familiar face. But it seemed to be that he found you before you could find him, the man already walking towards you.

You crossed your arms, turning on your heel to walk deeper into the corridor so no one would be around. You knew he’d follow, so you leaned against the wall, popping the gum in your mouth.

“There you are,” He called as he turned the corner, seeing you standing there. He walked over to stand in front of you. “Y/N, that song—”

“Cut the shit,” You cut him off. “What’s been goin’ on with you, Coriolanus?”

His eyebrows furrowed at your forwardness. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you avoidin’ me. You been actin’ weird since the lake, Coryo.” You sighed, pushing yourself off the wall to get eye to eye with the man before you. “If this is about what I said about runnin’ away..”

He rubbed his temple, staying silent.

“Coriolanus, do you expect me to enjoy life here? Watchin’ people get hung every other day, scared for my own damn life? My families lives?” You threw your arms out, scoffing. “Why would I want to stay?”

“Because of me!” He cut off your rant with a whisper yell. “I wanted you to want to stay, with me. Or.. come with me to the Capitol.”

“You know how I feel about that.”

“I know. And I wish I could change that.” He stepped forward a bit. “Because I don’t want to be away from you, Y/N.”

Your eyes softened. “Coryo, I don’t want to be away from you either. Hell, I’ve been thinkin’ about you for weeks just because you didn’t talk to me,” You bitterly laughed at your own foolishness. “But, look, if this is gon’ cause a problem between us, then maybe we should just call it off here, ‘cause even if it’ll hurt like hell, if we don’t got trust in each other then we got dirt.” You shrugged, even though the words you spoke felt like a dagger to the heart.

“No.” He shook his head immediately, his hands reaching out to grip your hips, almost seeming to make sure you wouldn’t run. “I’m not letting you go, no. Definitely not over this.”

“Then what do you want from me?” You asked, your eyes flickering between his. “You iced me out for 2 weeks because of what I said, then when I give you a solution, you say no?”

“Because that solution is us not being together.” He said, firmly. “That is the last thing I want. This whole thing started because I’m afraid of being away from you, Y/N.” He finally admitted.

You sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me that? We could’ve worked this out together.”

His hands slid up your body to cradle your face. “I was afraid. I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean for this. I didn’t mean to hurt you,”

You looked down. “You scared me, you asshole. I thought you didn’t want to be with me anymore.”

He frowned, tapping softly on your cheek to get your attention back onto him. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way, I always want to be with you. We will figure this out, I promise you that. I.. I’m just not good with talking about things with people, y’know…”

A soft smile spread over your face. “Yeah, I know. Just.. talk to me next time, okay? I hate when we don’t talk.” You said, walking into his arms.

He sighed happily at the contact, nuzzling his face his your hair to inhale your scent. “I will, my love.” He sighed, pulling back and licking his lips. “That song, though, it was beautiful. What is it called?”

You continued to smile. “You didn’t figure it out? It’s called ‘The World We Knew’ and, before you even ask, yes, it’s about you.”

His smiled slowly faded. “I made you feel that way?”

You swallowed, your smile gone as well. “Coryo.. these past two weeks, I thought it was over between us. When I wrote that, I was trying to come to terms with it.”

“Well, now you know that we’ll forever be in that world we apparently knew.” He joked, making you giggle.

He leaned forward to place a loving kiss on your lips, causing you to moan against his lips. He pulled back at the noise, looking at you with a smirk. “I have just the idea to make it up to you,”

You laughed when you saw that glint in his eye, kissing him again. “Show me what you got, big boy.”

#coriolanus my bae #coriolanus angst #coryo x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbsoas #coryolanus snow #coriolanus snow fluff #corio snow #coriolanus imagine

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narrans · 1 month ago

Text

A Small and Tall Collection | Chapter Eight | What To Do

Chapter Eight | What To Do

Rey was never really a light sleeper, but the recent sickness had thrown his whole schedule off. Every little sound woke up something in his brain, especially in the dead of night. His bedsheets felt weird, like they were too loose and trying to tie him up while he slept, and his pajamas made his skin crawl. Food didn’t quite have the same taste, which Soren said was because of his sinus stuff.

Also, more annoyingly, he’d been waking up in the middle of the night for a drink of water or to go to the bathroom.

Rey wasn’t the only one. Dorian had also been getting up too, but he didn’t like admitting it for whatever reason. Maybe he was just trying to seem tougher? Rey didn’t really care one way or the other.

What did concern him was what was on his bedside table right here, right now.

The only reason he’d rolled over was because he was feeling a bit overheated, followed soon after by the sound of someone throwing up. He had called out to his brother, but when he received no answer Rey’s concern increased.

“Dorian? Are you getting si-… what the?” Rey had cracked open his eyes to check on his brother when, quite distinctly, he saw something on his bedside table doubled over and making sounds. The hair on his arm started standing on end and he knew something was different about what he was seeing. He wasn’t sure what, but some curious part of him drew him in and, instantly, he was awake.

He pushed himself up and reached over toward the light, watching eagerly as the figure stumbled and fumbled their way off to the side by the tissue box, tap it a few times, and then vanish between the box and the light. He couldn’t wait for another moment.

The young boy wasn’t unfamiliar with this level of excitement. Every invention that didn’t immediately fall apart made him absolutely giddy and curious about what he could do next. It was the same kind of excitement he was feeling now.

“Wha-? Rey? What’s your problem? Turn off the light,” mumbled Dorian. It was obvious he was still fast asleep and annoyed with him, but Rey didn’t care. He needed his brother’s help and needed to know what was on their bedside table.

“Dorian, something’s on the table. I just saw it. It’s behind the tissue box,” Rey hissed. Once again, he saw the shadow move. They needed to act quickly if they were going to see what this thing was.

“You were probably just dreaming,” his brother grumbled.

“No! I wasn’t. I thought you were getting sick and saw something dart around the lamp by the tissue box. Come on. Help me look real quick,” said Rey. The youngest managed to catch his brother’s eyes and, in that moment, Dorian seemed to see that Rey was serious and not just messing around. He rolled his eyes and mumbled some kind of agreement, but Rey didn’t really care. He was already pushing himself up out from under the covers and preparing to reach for the lamp.

He reached over and flicked the light on.

Rey wasn’t sure what he saw, but what he did know was that something was leaving a shadow right behind the lamp. As he slid out from under the covers, Rey never tore his eyes away from the spot where he saw the shadow.

And then he saw it.

Her.

At least, he thought it was a her based on her facial features.

She was small, and pale, and she looked absolutely exhausted. It was absolutely fascinating, seeing something that looked so human and yet be so small. Rey gazed into her blue-gray eyes for what felt like an hour before she coughed and wretched, getting sick all over the bedside table. Rey could also see evidence that she got sick by his old medicine cup too, but he decided to worry about that later.

“Woah… did you hear that?” asked Dorian. Rey subconsciously nodded as he slowly inched his way forward and to the side to look at the small figure again.

“Dorian, you’ve got to see this,” breathed Rey. Rey had moved cautiously, as if one of his experiments would topple at the slightest tremor of the ground. The last thing he wanted to do was startle the figure. Dorian, on the other hand, hadn’t seen or noticed the anomalies and flopped out of his bed as if he was going to be late for pancakes.

“Wha-… woah…”

Dorian spotted her too, and immediately he understood why Rey was acting the way he was. From where he was standing beside his bed, he could see better over the tissue box and spotted the small figure that was too small, too real, to be just a toy or some weird invention of Rey’s. Without words, both boys advanced at a snail’s pace in hopes to keep the thing on the table.

Dorian watched as it fell to its knees, absent mindedly tapping at its sides as if it were searching for something that wasn’t there. It looked scared, if that was possible for something so small to have facial expressions like that.

He and Rey exchanged a quick glance before Rey reached out and grabbed the lamp while Dorian pulled the tissue box aside, revealing the small figure immediately behind. Fascination flooded the boys’ minds as they watched the figure.

She was wearing what looked like clothes, layers of them. Some kind of light tan shirt and brown pants with what looked like a green cloak or poncho over her shoulders. There was something that looked like a lightbulb on one side of her hip and a bag slung over the other shoulder. Features gaunt and hollow, she didn’t look like she was doing or feeling well in the slightest. How she looked reminded Rey of how he and his brother looked for the past few days – sick.

“Rey? That’s not… one of yours… is it?” asked Dorian, barely whispering.

“No… no way,” Rey muttered, watching how the blue-gray eyes flicked back and forth between him and his brother.

“Then what is it?” Dorian hissed back.

“I… I don’t know, but… I think it’s a she, and I don’t think she’s feeling well,” Rey muttered back. He cleared the tension in his throat with a few light coughs as he directed his words at the small figure. “Hey, are you okay?”

“You think it, or ‘she’, can understand us?” Dorian asked.

“I don’t know,” Rey stated. “But she’s looking from me to you, so she can at least hear us.” Rey watched as the figure’s shoulders began to shake, vibrating as her chest heaved rapidly. In and out, she was obviously hyperventilating. Rey, if he held his breath, could almost hear her small gasps.

“This isn’t a dream, right? I mean, she’s real.” Dorian’s hand was already in motion before Rey registered his question. Everything moved so fast.

Ashlynn, who was listening to the boys talk back and forth about whether or not she could understand or if she was real, was starting to feel lightheaded again. The corners of her vision were blurring. She wanted to vomit again, but nothing was left to give. Every sense she possessed was deteriorating rapidly, and now she was backed into a corner.

She was trying to recite the Borrower rules in her head when a massive amount of movement caught her attention. Her eyes snapped up to see the older of the two, Dorian, reaching his hand out toward her.

Fingers were extended.

Palm easily eclipsing her body.

Ashlynn felt her instincts take over her aching body as she forced herself to her feet and threw herself backward away from the child’s grasp. Sadly, she overestimated the force she would need. She jumped up and back so violently that her back actually hit the wall beside the bedside table.

She’d managed to get away, yes; but there was something she didn’t account for – the gap.

Between the bedside table and the wall, there was a gap about an inch wide, which was just enough for her to slip through. For a brief moment, Ashlynn’s body was perfectly posed against the wall and the table before her center of gravity shifted again and she began to plumet into the shadows.

A scream was lodged somewhere in Ashlynn’s throat as she began to slip, but it didn’t stay there for long. As her body fell, an immense shadow fell over her and pressure surrounded her right arm. She heard a distinct popping sound from her shoulder, as if she were cracking her knuckles but on a much larger, louder scale and the scream that was trapped erupted out of her. Her body hung limp momentarily before her body began lifting from her throbbing arm.

She didn’t want to look, but impulse overrode her and she glanced up only to see her arm was being pinched between the fingers of the one called Dorian. He was lifting her by her throbbing arm, and there was nothing she could do. Those immense fleshy columns and their vice like grip around her aching appendage would not release her, no matter how she struggled; not that she had the strength to.

The Borrower swallowed the cries of pain she wanted to release and replaced them with choked whimpers and groans. She closed her eyes tight and averted her gaze from her arm. She wasn’t sure if she was about to have it ripped from her body or if it was about to be broken into tiny pieces. Whatever the case, she didn’t want to see it. She didn’t want to look at the human child’s face as he examined her now fully exposed body.

There would be no escape now.

The words of the youngest boy sounded muffled and distant, but Ashlynn was still able to make them out in some form.

“Dorian! What are you doing?! You’ll hurt her!” Rey’s harsh whisper was followed by a scuffling. Rey had watched as the little figure had backed up and had started to fall from the bedside table to the floor. Dorian was faster and had managed to grab her arm, but the scream that followed told Rey that Dorian had either grabbed too hard or that she didn’t like being touched.

Whatever the case, Dorian had managed to keep her from falling at the cost of injuring her, so he was grateful for that much at least. Rey saw how the figure looked away from where her arm was being grabbed and felt his heart ache for her.

She was terrified beyond words, and he and Dorian were causing it.

“Dorian, you’re hurting her. Don’t pinch her arm like that,” Rey urged. Dorian grunted frustratingly and held out the partially limp figure.

“Well, then you hold her,” Dorian hissed back. Rey didn’t have time to object as Dorian lowered the tiny woman into his hands. Rey cupped his hands and prayed she didn’t do anything rash like try to run or jump out of his hands. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to be able to do either as she crumpled into a ball in his hands and pulled her arm toward her torso.

The sensation was a novel one. The life was so small, but so much like his own. Rey had held his friends’ pets before like hamsters and guinea pigs. He’d even pet a few fish before.

This was something entirely different.

In the dim lamplight, he was able to see more of her features now that she was so much closer to him. He could make out her fingers and the way her hair fell across her sweat chilled cheek. He could see her fingernails and how they grasped at the fabric of her clothes.

It hit Rey all at once that she wasn’t just some creature – she was a living being. Practically human except for her size.

Rey glanced up at his brother just in time to see him dumping out the contents of a drawer from their bedside table, the pieces and parts scattering while others stacked and lumped together. That’s what they got for shoving their random knick-knacks into the thing in the first place. Rey also saw Dorian was getting together what looked like a set of bundled socks, some of the crackers, and a lid of water.

“Dorian, what’re you doing?” asked the kid.

“What do you think? Setting up an area for her until we figure out what to do with her,” replied Dorian. Immediately, Ashlynn turned her fear filled eyes onto Rey and then to his brother. She attempted to squirm, but weakness overtook her. Not even adrenaline could force her body to flee now. Rey noticed this and felt a pang in his heart.

She seemed so scared. So helpless.

“Dorian I… I don’t like the sound of that,” stated Rey.

“Well, what else are we going to do with her?” Dorian asked harshly.

“I… I don’t know. Let her go? I mean… I don’t know… It just doesn’t feel right keeping her in a drawer,” mumbled Rey. He noticed the eager gleam in the small woman’s features as she looked up into his eyes for only a moment. It took everything the boy had to tear his gaze from the figure to his brother. “I just… I don’t know. I think we need to wake up Soren. You know? Get his help?”

“You saw Soren and how tired he was. We went to bed early and everything. He’s tired. You’re tired. I’m tired. She looks tired. It’s just for the night,” rebutted Dorian. “You want to wake up Soren when he’s feeling sick and tired?”

Rey chewed on his bottom lip in confliction before mumbling, “No.”

“And, do you see her? She looks sick too. She might’ve been the one to get us sick for all we know. Remember what Soren said about keeping the mice in the walls as pets?” pointed out Dorian.

Rude! You little germy twerps are the reason I’m sick! Ashlynn thought as her heart raced faster and faster. That lightheaded feeling consumed her again. I can’t. I can’t let them take me. I can’t break the rules, but I can’t let them keep me. I’m going to be a pet. They’re going to get me a cage and I’m going to be a pet! This is bad. This is really really really really bad! Curses! I should’ve just stayed in the walls! Why did I think medicine was going to help? That’s a human thing.

“Yeah, but…”

“Good, then it’s settled,” interrupted Dorian. “She’ll be safe in here for the night and then Soren will know what to do with her. Now, put her down in there, let’s get some sleep, and we’ll get Soren in here first thing tomorrow. Besides, he can’t do anything if he’s just as sick and tired as the rest of us.”

Rey looked down at the little figure again, the same pang hitting him again, before relenting to his brother’s idea. He walked over to the bedside table carefully and lowered his hands into the hard wood box.

Ashlynn seized the opportunity to get off of the child’s hands as fast as possible, scrambling to get off and instantly regretting her quickness of movement as her body screamed in agony, especially her arm. Whatever that boy did made her fingers tingly and numb. Already, there were bruises forming on her arm in the shape of finger pads.

She stumbled backward and pressed her spine against the hard wood directly behind her and stared up from the shadows at the faces of the two boys.

Please don’t close the drawer. Please don’t close the drawer. I can maybe get out if you don’t close the drawer. Please. Just let me go. Ashlynn’s silent thoughts went unanswered as the older boy reached out and pressed his hand against the edge. She wanted to cry out and beg them to stop, but instinct stopped her once again as she was sealed in darkness, barely the width of her hand open at the top of the container.

Ashlynn choked on a sob that rose up in her throat. Sliding down the back of her wooden prison, she curled in on herself. Her body shook like a leaf in a hurricane, but she had no tears or energy left to maintain her fear. She listened as the two boys talked for a little while longer in hushed words before the bedside light finally flicked out, leaving her in complete darkness.

No. It’s over. It’s all over. I’m caught. I’ve been seen and now I’m caught. I don’t even have my weapons to protect me. Their dad is going to put me in a cage and I’ll live off of pellets and goodness knows what else until the end of my days. Poking. Prodding.

Ashlynn shivered as she thought about the boy’s hands holding her. The warmth. The tiny flexes each finger or muscle made as he adjusted to her weight. It was a living nightmare, but what was worse was the thought that it would be all she ever knew from here on out.

Exhaustion dragged her eyelids further and further down. It wasn’t even a matter of sleep now. Between the pain and chills and sickness and the fate she knew she would have to endure, it took everything she had left in her to drag her way over to the bundled socks and lied down. For just a moment, she wanted to enjoy the simple comfort of her hip lamp, but even that was a disappointment as the lamp flickered on and off.

Even the battery is failing me. Truly the last thing to go wrong.

Ashlynn recited the Borrower rules in her head, mainly the three that truly mattered.

Don’t be seen. Don’t get caught. Don’t talk to the humans.

Well… if this is how I end, I can at least follow the last rule. Then again… is it worth it? Maybe if I talk to those boys, then they’ll let me go. The one seemed to think so.

Oh… who am I kidding? Who am I trying to convince? Myself? I’m not making it out of here. This is my life now.

Ashlynn felt a single tear drip down her cheek as, finally, the last life of her hip lamp battery drained. Lying there in complete darkness, Ashlynn curled into the top of the stiff sock and let her exhaustion overtake her.

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Continue

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A Tall and Small Collection | Original Story

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