#and now he’s si gray

[bigassbowlingballhead]

They aged up Felix I’m unwell. I need cold water STAT

[sexysilverstrider]

baek si yoon you are literally so handsome and so dangerous

[ramp-it-up]

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.

-----

"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.

[frogchiro]

The sleazy neighbours ghost storys are so good, what happens after the snow storm do things go back to normal or is there more tension between the two??? Please I've been thinking about for daysss lol

Thank you love!!

I'm imagining that after that sleazy neighbour!Simon would be much more bold and brazen with his advances for you! In his mind you basically gave him the green light to go to town and so he did :((

But we need to remember that this is still sleazy Si so his advances would definitely **not** be as chivalrous and gentelmanly as some would think; in reality it would consist of being more pushy with his touches, even bullying you 'playfully' into corners and crooning at you with that low, raspy voice of his and his cock would twitch in his sweats at the soght of you not pushing him away or even trying to, instead you just whine at him, all bashful and blushy :(

Speaking of sweatpants, yes sleazy Simon is that guy that wears gray sweats CONCIOUSLY bc he knows his dick is huge and is so stupidly proud of it :( Now that the initial 'ice' is broken he will crank it up to 11, always going around in those damn sweats and showing off to you. Totally gets off and smirks like a nasty, hungry wolf, all teath when he sees how you stutter over your words and fluster when he's in his gray sweats and he purposefull manspreads, his huge powerful thighs open and the print of his dick shows right up, not even trying to hide the facts that he's getting hard </3

[joosthead]

touch tank || j.k. f!reader

WARNING #1: explicit real person fiction ahead, dni if below 18. dni if anti-rpf

WARNING #2: explicit rpf/real person fiction content ahead. read at your own risk. dni if anti rpf, dni or read ahead if you simply don’t like rpf lol

₊˚⊹⋆ prompt(s): 16S) the classic “oh, let me help you put some sunscreen on” but then the little massage turns into something more

part 2 of just too soft for all of it — this is a standalone fic but both of these are set in the same universe if you want some more : )

₊˚⊹⋆ reader: f!reader, gets referred to as joost’s girlfriend. notfamous!reader. if you are a person who does not tan/burns—pretend that you can tan easily for this fic😭 exploration into joost and normal!reader’s dynamic. little bit opposite aesthetic reader

₊˚⊹⋆ word count: 7.7k

₊˚⊹⋆ cw: smut (oily massage, f!receiving oral+eating from back, unprotected piv, outdoors [but still private] sex, creampie), perfect world w perfect temperatures and pools, quite sappy lol didn’t know i could top jtsfaoi but here we are, google translate dutch. note: ice lolly/popsicle in mind. yes this is important. idk if they have these in nl but they do now < 3

WARNING #3: rpf ahead—don't like it, don't read it. do not repost this on any other platform, screenshots or text alike. do not click ahead if you don’t want to read rpf. do not interact if you are below 18. how to block tags/words on tumblr.

₊˚⊹⋆ track(s) of the fic: “touch tank” by quinnie, “love is strange” by mickey & sylvia, “pink in the night” by mitski

₊˚⊹⋆ junote: i really wanted to combine this with prompt 14 but i couldn't make it work : ( i do have requests for that that i’ll fulfill so stay tuned teehee !! sorry this took so long, i am a perfectionist and absolutely adore this prompt so—here you guys go !! enjoy : 3

₊˚⊹⋆translation: "Kun je me hier voelen, diep in je?" - "Can you feel me here, deep in you?"

18+ only — explicit rpf content ahead, minors dni, anti rpf dni. 4th and final warning!

Because your life is so perfect, the day after your meltdown and subsequent putting back together (courtesy of Joost), your area gets hit with the worst heatwave of the summer. 

You guess that this is some cruel tactic of the universe to make its stars align for you in any way it can. The unbearable beams of sunlight beaming down upon you the moment you exit Joost and your shared home into the backyard. “Are you sure we should have a day outside?” you call back behind you, putting on your sunglasses. “Shouldn’t we just chill inside and watch something?” 

Joost comes up behind you, arm snaking around your waist, lips planted on your cheek in a second. “Some sunlight will be very good for you, you’re always holed up in the office or library,” he mumbles into your shoulder, covered by the baby-blue cotton fabric of one of his button ups. “You can bear it.”

You shake your head, but keep walking forward down the steps anyways, sandals slapping against the small wood deck. “I think the heat might kill me.” 

“It won’t—I won't let it!” Joost exclaims proudly, letting you go and going ahead of you. Even without seeing his face, you know how big of a smile he’s got on his lips. 

The pool sloshes on its own, the aqua blue water spilling over the sides and darkening the gray pavement next to it. On one of your loungers, Joost sets down the tote bag he prepared of towels, sunscreen, the change of clothes you’ll wear when you go back inside. You woke up to it this morning, along with a butcher paper wrapped breakfast sandwich and a glass of water. A text accompanied it—he would be out back, taking the cover off the pool and setting everything up. 

Usually, you're the one setting everything up, preferring to have it your own specific way, but—you chose peace last night, going straight to bed after taking that bath together  After these few years together, Joost may not be as Type A as you, but he can certainly hold his own now around the household. 

Your backyard is a quaint sight: the fence lined with various flower bushes, clean cut grass all around. A tree stands in the corner, roots surrounded by a ring of decorative rocks and pink carnations—there isn’t much either of you have done to upkeep any of it, but somehow, they bloom year after year. Your loungers are baby blue, covered in the towels that Joost has set out, the tote bag spilling over on the left one. 

It's almost like you’ve taken an outing to the beach and you're not in the little old house you’ve lived in for the past few years. Any day with Joost is that extravagant, he makes it that way. Already, you can relax, your shoulders lowering as you sit down on the edge of your lounger and watch as Joost squats, running his fingers along the surface of the water in silence. 

Low on his hips, Joost’s swim trunks are black and needlessly designer, just the way he likes them. He’s shirtless, the expanse of his back to you—his own name is tattooed on his right shoulder in some sans-serif script he must’ve liked before he ever met you, and in this sunlight, you wish in secret to see your own next to it.  

“You’re staring, lieverd,” Joost remarks over his shoulder, giving the water one final splash as he stands up and you smile. 

“How could I not?”

“I’m just too beautiful, aren’t I?” He comes over to you, standing in front of you and shielding you from the sun. “You ready to get in the pool?” 

Behind your sunglasses, you squint up at him and nod. “Put on some music and I’ll go.”

Goofy as always, he salutes to you and marches away like some Supreme swim trunk clad soldier. As he sets up the speaker on the far side of the pool, you unbutton your shirt, get ready to slip off your flip flops, but in your pocket, your phone vibrates. 

You check it—it’s an email from your supervisor, asking you to look over a few files for her. Regardless of your big day out taking up your time…it’s a Saturday. And yet you still find yourself about to respond, about to start typing when Joost places his big hand over your phone screen, saying, “We can look at that later, yeah?” Your grip on the phone loosens; he’s right, you can look at that later. There’s still a part of you that wants to reply, scared of what the consequences will be if you don’t, but—“Today will be great.” Taking your face in his hands, he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Come, now.” 

You stand up and he slips off your button up for you, dropping it on the deck chair. You adjust the strings of your bikini; white and blue and flowery, patterned like a delicate porcelain vase, so pretty on you and Joost tells you such.

Turning to him, you hold your hands out to the side, showing yourself off. Joost’s hand comes up to your collarbone to fidget with the matching necklaces you both have that you wear now—pearl pendants in dainty silver cages attached to short chains and these green and tarnished (“well-loved,” Joost calls them) old halves of a “BEST FRIENDS FOREVER” heart-shaped necklace from a Claire’s you both visited on a trip to America. He wears them both today, too, chains intertwined and tangled as always. 

“Do you realize how pretty you are? Zo mooi mijn liefste,” Joost says, taking your hand and twirling you around for a better look—he wolf whistles, and it makes you laugh, cheeks warming with his eyes on you. 

“With how much you tell me, I think I’m starting to realize it.” 

“Very glad,” he says, pulling you in for a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll tell you more then.” 

Grinning, you pull away and make for the pool steps, but not before Joost taps you on the ass; you act scandalized, dropping your mouth open, narrowing your eyes at him, but it’s lighthearted, and just makes you want to finish what you started last night. “Smokeshow!” he whisper yells through his cupped hands around his mouth as you walk forward and to the side of the pool—it’s still morning, and your neighbours are weird about noise. This is his version of being considerate of that. Too bad for them that you moved Joost Klein into your once quiet home. 

Dipping a toe into the water, you immediately suck in a breath through your teeth at how cold it is. Even with the tarp and the sun shining down upon it for hours, the water still nips at your skin, something in your brain perceiving it to be freezing and impossible to step into. “Ew,” you mutter, and Joost snickers from behind you. 

“Baby can’t handle it?” he teases. 

“Not true,” you mumble, going down the second step, ankle deep, and immediately scrambling out of the water. “Jesus Christ, what the fuck?” 

“You’re surprised that water is supposed to be cool?” 

“It’s not supposed to be that cool.” 

“Come here.” You turn around, walk right up to him. Even without shoes, you still have to look up at Joost, and he smiles right down at you—you know that’s going to happen. “C’mon. Jump, schatje,” he says, tapping the backs of your thighs, so you do—he can carry you with ease, all the times he’s brought you upstairs this way, all the drunken piggybacks he’s given you. You wrap your arms around his neck, wrap your legs around him tightly, while he has his hands under your ass. “Good, baby.” 

He takes the opportunity to press a kiss to your neck, then starts forward down the pool steps, slowly so you can adjust. “Agh!” you yelp softly as he moves further into the pool, the cold water coming up around your body, engulfing you. The temperature is a shock to your system, though the way it cools your hot skin is so, so welcome. It isn’t as cold like this. 

“Is it okay?” 

“I’m okay,” you say, though you hug him closer to get any sort of warmth on you. 

“Are you sure?” he laughs, and you nod, still clinging onto him like a little bear. “You’re so cute. I think I deserve a kiss for that.” 

“One for carrying me,” you say, kissing him on his soft lips. “Another for setting all of this up.” You kiss him again, and Joost deepens it, somehow squeezing your body even tighter to his, tongue teasing at your mouth as he squeezes your ass, as you rest your hands on his chest.  “Have we ever done it in a pool?” you ask once you pull away. 

“Never.” Joost gives you one last peck, one last kiss on the jaw as he smiles at you. “Do you think today is the day?”

“Maybe. We’ll see.” 

—

After around an hour of wading around—you’ve both decided that today is not the day to do it in a pool. It’s too hot, even with the cold water you’re situated in. Not even your house or the tree in the corner of the yard provides good shade for the water as the day gets later, the sun beating down on your shoulders; it would turn into a burn if you were that unlucky, but you, however, are not. 

In the morning when you first stepped out, the pool was still shaded and you and Joost could do whatever you wanted: breath holding contests, Joost trying (and failing) to do a handstand underwater, racing each other across and back several times like this was some backyard Olympics. After a bit, you floated on your backs together, laughing about what the water feels like in your ears, laughing about how terrible he is at floating. Finally, you felt all of the worries from the past month melt away and into the water as you gazed up at the blue sky above you. 

You heard it before it came—Joost swiping the surface of the water, making a large splash that drenched your face as you floated. You exclaimed, “You dick!” and freed yourself from your float to splash him back in the face hard, then he feigned the hurt and sorrow that fills one’s heart after chlorine fills their waterlines, rubbing at his eyes—you weren’t not going to come over and dote on him, but then he splashed you back as you looked over his red eyes, and it made you splash him back even more. 

Noise be damned, you were both laughing and shrieking and splashing for around an hour—in the midst of your splash war, you noticed how pink Joost’s shoulders were, the beginnings of a nasty sunburn afoot with the afternoon sun shining down on both of you. You shooed him out of the pool and into the refuge of the umbrella covering your lounge chairs, and started to rummage in the bag before he sprung up from his seat. 

“Wait, wait, wait! Before I forget—” Joost exclaims, running back up the stairs and into your house. A minute or two passes, and he comes back with his hands behind his back, closing the sliding door shut with his foot. In front of him, he holds out a twin popsicle—two sticks encapsulated by sweet red syrup and already melting in its package. “Ijslolly!” He presents it to you as he comes down the stairs, then bows to you deeply and dramatically, which makes you laugh. “Here you go, m’lady,” he says, then tips his imaginary fedora to you because. Because of course he would—anyone else, it would make you cringe, but it’s Joost. Perfectly goofy, perfectly sweet, perfectly Joost. 

You laugh as he opens the wrapper and splits the popsicle in two—one for him, one for you. “Thank you, kind sir,” you giggle, playing along. “Where’d you even get this?” you ask, taking your half and licking at the melting syrup already dripping onto your hand. 

“I went to the store while you were sleeping,” Joost says proudly, biting into the popsicle. “It’s strawberry, do you like?” 

Walking forward, you nod and get up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss. “I love.” 

He beams at you, sits down, chomps at his popsicle while you eat yours; he puts his hat and sunglasses back on and you do the same, and you sit together as the music plays for you. 

A new Charli xcx song, Joost and Käärijä’s recent collaboration, an incredibly sexual recent Ski Aggu release that you make a note of texting him “???” about later. 

Before you know it, you’re left with a red-stained stick, a red-stained mouth, a satisfied sweet tooth. “Okay, Joosty. Sunscreen time.” He gives you an exaggerated grumble but sits down at the edge of the lounger nonetheless, and you stand between his legs, taking the sunscreen from behind him and uncapping it. “You need it more than I do.” 

“Shush,” he says, but lets you take out two fingers worth of sunscreen, lets you take off his sunglasses and spread the sunscreen on his cheeks, rubbing it in. You can’t resist him and his pretty face, dusted pink cheeks, ocean blue eyes looking up at you through long blonde eyelashes. 

You’re so distracted by his face that you don’t pay attention to where you’re going—“Oops,” you giggle. “I got sunscreen on your mustache.”

“Oops,” he repeats. “I don’t mind.”

Hands on the backs of your thighs, Joost pulls you close by them and presses a kiss to your stomach, then hugs you tight around your waist. Automatically, your hands come up to play with his hair, combing your fingers through the strands. “All of your sunscreen is going on my stomach, Joost.” 

“Don’t care. You think if I lay out in the sun for long enough, it’ll bleach my hair more?” 

You snicker, “The heat will singe you to pieces before it can even bleach your hair.”

Sighing, he presses another kiss to your stomach. “You’re lucky. You get to tan today.”

“I ran out of my oil in Cuba, Joosty, I can’t.” A couple’s vacation with Appie and Alanis in Havana, feels like so long ago even though it’s only been two months. Fruity cocktails on the beach (and in your hotel room, and at the bar, and in the club, and…), running down hallways, fussing over Joost’s sunburned cheeks, Joost ogling you sunbathing but unable to do anything out of respect for your friends right next to you. You should have picked up another tub, but you weren’t exactly expecting to be tanning back in Amsterdam anyways. 

“You can't, or you won't? Look in the bag,” Joost mumbles into your tummy. You lean over behind him and reach into the tote—most of the other things have already spilled out and onto the lounger behind him: your sunglasses, two droom groot caps, the wrapper of your popsicle, a cheap film camera, and…a brand new tub of coconut oil. Your favourite brand. He must’ve picked it up on his trip to the store this morning, and you laugh, “You're so sweet.” 

“Mm-mm,” Joost hums. “That’s you, lieverd. You should lie down, I’ll put the oil so you can tan your back.”

Cocking an eyebrow at him, you snort, “Feels like you have something up your sleeve, Klein.”

He grins a toothy smile up at you—“Maybe I do.”

Joost gets up and moves all of the things to the other lounger, allowing you to lie on it on your stomach. You wiggle around a little on it, settling into the soft cushion, your back already stretching with your position. 

“I will be a great masseuse, schatje, don’t you worry. “ Careful not to put too much weight on you, Joost straddles the backs of your thighs. 

“Should I be worried?”

“No.”

“I feel like I should be worried.”

“Don’t be.” From behind you, he gets up, and you turn around to see what he’s doing—he gets your/his button up from the other chair and slips it on. “No more burning today for me.” 

You nod as he settles back on you, and you hear the sound of your little coconut oil tub being opened, the safety seal being ripped off, the clicking of his tongue at it ripping off unevenly. The air is a comfortable blanket of warmth upon you now, your worries melting away with it as you wait for Joost. 

“Can you untie the string around my back?” you ask before you forget. 

A few beats of silence pass until Joost finally says—“What?” 

“Is there a problem?”

“Why untie?” 

Joost’s voice has deepened an octave—almost grave, the tone of his voice is, because all of the possibilities in his mind floating around. Just your bare back and its expanse in front of him.

“I don’t want a tan line,” you explain. “Untie it and I won’t get one.” 

“Okay,” he affirms, though sounding uneasy as he undoes the tight strings of your halter top, the strings around your torso. He swipes them out of his way, and you assume the pause in his movement is to dip his fingers in the coconut oil and warm it up for you. 

Your assumption is right. In a minute or so, Joost’s big hands smooth across your back, firm yet gentle—he knows exactly how to handle you. The oil provides a lovely glide for his palms against your skin, and it smells so great; the pressure he’s applying is perfect on you, and you let out a little mewl of pleasure. The knots in your back are melting away with every swipe of his hands across it and you have to ask—“Where’d you learn to give such a great massage, Joost?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets.” 

Even if you tried, you couldn’t deduce how he learned to do this; maybe you’re just super tired from the last month (very likely) or he was a masseuse in his past life, but you’re already less tense with his hands on you. He digs his thumbs into the small of your back and rubs circles into it as you sigh in contentment at how it feels.

“I like this song,” Joost mumbles as it changes to this one you found years ago, some song about baby blue shirts, how pretty he looks going down on you.

“Mhm,” you hum.

“Seems very appropriate for the situation, right?” Eyes closed, you smile with his fingertips hovering just above your skin, a pause now in his treatment for you. “Can I…you know…” with his finger, Joost writes a small J, one, two, three times, on your back and sliding with the oil waiting for your response. 

“Massage me for a little more, I’ll think about it.”

“Fine,” he breathes, then gets back to work. 

Joost smoothes his hands over your back muscles; first over the top, over your trapezius, then up to your shoulders. He pinches a little around the shoulders, gliding over the smooth skin there. Hands sticky with oil, the solid melts with the sun-warmed dip of your spine, the valley of your back before him. The dip is perfect to smell, perfect to kiss; perfect to put a light hand on in public and a harsher grip on in private. With every movement of his hands, it smells more like coconut, smells less like you, and Joost has to resist the urge to bend down and nose at it to get your scent back. Every movement is accompanied by a little—a little breath. A little happy sigh from you, and it makes him go insane with every press of his hands against you. 

You’re much more refined than he is, more able to keep it together; if Joost was in your position, he knows he’d be a mess under you, quick and fast and easy. You’re his favourite person—the wave of your hand could bring him to his knees. Taking care of you comes so easily to him, even if he’s so commonly doted upon by other people. This feeling—no wonder you like taking care of him as much as you do. 

Today is so happy, a day that’ll get him through weeks and shows to come without you, long days on the tour bus wishing you could be by his side. Joost got through yesterday, his flight, the ride home using the prospect of you, seeing you, to get by. Then he got home, and seeing you was all he could look forward to after being away for what felt like forever, and he finally did, and he was so overjoyed and then—then you were crying, and he felt so sad that all he could do was hold you. He wants badly to understand why. 

“Can I ask…can I ask why you cried yesterday, lieverd?” Joost adds in a soft voice, still running his hands firmly over your sore muscles, “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it right now, I understand. But I’d like to know sometime, so we can help you feel better.”

You’ve known since the moment you started crying that you’d have to talk about it sometime. Sharing everything with each other is the way your relationship is, how it always has been—you thought about it in the bath with him, his chest against your back, deep and tired voice reverberating with it. How to word it as he played the first track on the new album, so crazy experimental and unlike anything you’ve ever heard from him before. Thought about it in the pool, thinking about it now. 

“I just…I’m probably the most mundane part of your life. There’s this little voice in my head, maybe it’s what I think people are saying about me—‘You’re telling me Joost Klein couldn’t find someone more interesting?’” You think back to an offhand Tweet you saw come up on your timeline, 10 angry quote tweets already defending you, no likes, but it still sticks to the back of your mind like some aggravating super glue: “‘His girlfriend doesn’t even do music or anything special and she still can't show up for him.’ I don’t travel like you do, I’m not always making music or doing things. And still, I couldn’t be there for you. 

I watch you at your shows and you’re this…enigma, you’re amazing. I want to be as good as you, I wanna show you off like you show me off. But there’s always something in the way. My schedule, or university, or work.” It’s truly difficult now not to feel like you overshared, dumped something on him that maybe you weren’t prepared to dump on him—a cloud shadows the sun, just at the right moment, and the parts of your skin not already touched by the umbrella’s shade are cooled momentarily. “Or maybe I’m just not trying hard enough for you.”

“I’m not flashy,” you say softly, settling on your forearms. “My way of being flashy is the way I love you, and I don’t know if I’ll ever think it compares to how you do it. I feel bad, that’s all. Like I could be doing more for you in every way.” Whatever it is, whether or not you were prepared to say it—it’s out now. “‘Cause you deserve it, you always do.” Blindly, you reach behind you and hold your hand out for him to hold, and he does, squeezing it tightly. Your cheeks warm, and it’s certainly not because of the temperature outside anymore. “I’m sorry I killed the vibe.” 

From behind you, you hear a sniffle, and you raise your head and look back, alarmed. Joost wipes a tear away with his other hand, laughs a sniffly laugh as you laugh, “Joooost. You’re gonna make me cry.”

“No, no, no vibe killing in this house.” You crane your head back again, pursing your lips, and he leans forward so he can kiss you, then peppers kisses until your shoulder, mumbling, “I should be comforting you, lieverd.”

“It’s okay,” you say softly. “Don’t really need to be comforted, just need to get it through my head that it’s not like that. I’m just sad that you’re sad.” 

Joost rubs your back, though it seems like he needs that more than you do if you’re judging by his sniffles and wavery voice alone. “I never knew you felt that way.”

He wraps his arms around your torso, hugging you close and continues, “If it’s any consolation, which I hope it is—you could never be careless. You set out my favourite sleep clothes for when I got back, favourite snacks, plushies on the bed, a place in the dresser for new stuff.” You have to admit—you were pretty proud of that last idea when you came up with it. “You’re thoughtful, and you’re kind, and I’m so lucky to have you. I love you, I love you. I love you.” 

With every “I love you” is a kiss upon your skin that you can’t see, but feel wholeheartedly anyways. “My muse, my saviour,” he says, and you have to laugh a little. “I mean it, you know I mean it.” And you do, you know it—how could you not when it comes from Joost? “You’re the most extraordinary part of my life, schat. Every show, your presence is there with me, even if you feel you aren’t.” 

“Not true,” you say, voice teasing. “That would be impossible, wouldn’t it?” 

You can feel the roll in his eyes from here, even though you can’t see it. “Yeah, yeah. But you know what I mean, right? Best friends forever, that’s what our necklaces say. Always there for each other. You’re always there with me.”

He kisses your shoulder. The oil is strange on his lips, but he doesn’t mind—it’s you. “Nothing compares to you, everything we have together…I hope you know how I feel now.” Pausing, Joost rests his forehead on the back of your head, breathes you in. “I’m obsessed with you, I think,” he whispers into the nape of your neck, then kisses it, and you laugh with the tickle of his lips, his facial hair against your sunwarmed skin. 

“You are? I didn’t know,” you tease, perking your ass up against Joost on top of you because—somewhere in your conversation, he’s gotten hard, and it’s poking against your thigh now, making you bite your lip. Stroking each other’s egos has gotten you both excited, it seems.  “What’s up with that, hm?” 

“You should know. I’m telling you right now, I’m obsessed with you. And this?” Joost grinds his crotch against you just lightly, kissing the side of your neck as he lowers his voice, “This, I like talking about you too much. You can’t blame me for it, you’re gorgeous.” 

“I don’t think I know how obsessed with me you are yet. Tell me more?” 

“Do I have to tell you, schat?” he says, gentle and low, fingering the delicate ties on your sides and the sensitive skin of your hips under them. His fingers drag down the column of your spine, tease at the edge of your bikini. “I don’t think I have to tell you, right? That I love you, need you?” 

“You don’t? Have to tell me?” 

“I’ll show you.” 

You imagine what he looks like behind you—burnt shoulders, rosy cheeks, dark sunglasses, chlorine dried blonde hair all messy and the tips dripping with water still upon the billowy cotton of his button up. Those blue eyes, blown out at the sight of you underneath him, wandering every lovely curve of your body. Slowly, he unravels the ties that hold both sides of your bottoms together, the nylon springing back against your skin, and you fight the urge to smile in anticipation of Joost all over you soon. 

“You don’t want any tan lines down here?” he asks, fingers already underneath the damp fabric of your swimsuit bottoms. You shake your head no. “Ok, then no tan lines.” 

Joost slips the fabric off of your skin; the dampness makes it cling to you still, though it’s easy enough to take off completely. You hike your leg up for easier access, turn your head so you can get a good look at him. In a sort of headband, his sunglasses are perched atop his head; the button up wrinkled and a bit stained with oil; rightfully, his eyes are half-lidded with want, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his trunks.

“What do you want to do?” Teasing him, you run a finger down his bulge and he smiles at you. Truly, you haven’t a single idea about what Joost wants to do with you next, and it looks like he doesn’t either—until his eyes light up, and you figure that tugging gently at his trunks for him can help expedite the process.

“Can I try something?” 

“Go right ahead.” 

You lie in wait as Joost lowers his shorts, erection springing out and his hand coming to wrap around it and give it a few pumps—you reach behind, running a finger down the slit, and he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth as he strokes himself, then settles his cock on the soft cleft of your ass and glides it against, between it. 

You laugh, “You’re such a dog, Joost,” but as he ruts gently against you—the little moans he’s doing in your ear, already rambling about how good you feel and he’s not even inside yet, one hand gripping your hip and keeping his cock in place and the other on the back of the lounger so he can keep his balance; this is your personal paradise. 

“Fuck,” Joost whispers, biting his lip. You love a show, and he’s ever the showman—but you’re outside, he’s outside, he’s very aware of your cranky old neighbours, and he loves you and your house. One day, you’ll share the lease together, so he tries and stays quiet for the sake of that dream, so you both won’t get kicked out for verbal indecency today. 

“I know how much you like it, Joost,” you purr from under him, voice muffled by your arms. “You can tell me.” 

From Joost’s point of view, you look like a line in his song, the notes in the margin crafting and tailoring the work to his perfect vision; you look like the fully realized final draft of something he’s been working on for months, trying to find the sound of for years. 

If he could write something about this moment, it would probably result in entire sagas, but for now—keeping you like this close to his chest is a gift only he has. 

“I can’t be eloquent like this,” he laughs, and you have to agree; whatever goes on in that head, he short circuits before he can say it in this state of pleasure. 

Joost pauses his small thrusts, catches his breath. “Go on,” you encourage, but he breathes a quiet, “No. If I go any more, I’ll cum early and that would be so lame, schat.” 

“Not lame. I would personally love to see it.” 

“Mm-mm. We are not doing that today,” he laughs, and the sound makes your heart warm. 

“Put it in,” you say softly, trying to convince him to keep going—it’s so cute how far gone he is already, how hard he’s trying for you. 

“No, no, no. Let me taste you first.”

You cannot argue with that. 

In an instant, you abandon your bikini top, abandon the bottoms too in a crumpled mess on the ground laying on your sandals and his flip flops. “Hands and knees, lieverd,” Joost says, and you follow his direction, settling so you’re on your elbows and your ass is hiked in the air. 

A few moments pass as Joost sits behind you, and you have to ask—“What are you waiting for?”

“Just enjoying the view,” he says, then gives a kiss to your ass cheek, making you giggle. “So impatient today, schat. Is it because I was gone for so long?” Joost moves your knees so they’re spread even wider, giving him more access to you. “How much did you miss me?” A kiss to the back of your thigh, right near your center, your stomach caving in with the deep breath you take in anticipation. 

“I missed you a lot,” you whisper, looking back at him focusing his dilated eyes on your pussy, and your cheeks grow hot at the sight. “Missed you more than you know.”

“Did you?” He licks a tentative stripe up your slit, up even higher over your hole—so sensitive, your knees could shake with only the tip of his tongue teasing you. “Show me, let me hear it, lieverd.” 

“Joost,” you scold, though your arching back reveals your true feelings about what he’s doing.

“Sorry, can’t resist.” He presses a kiss atop it before coming back to your pussy.

So exposed, so vulnerable, so open, Joost’s fingers parting your folds. He spreads them gently so you’re even more open to him and licks in between, drinking from you. The smacking of his lips against you—it’s filthy. You’re so cognizant of the sound; is it unmistakable from outside, Joost’s tongue flicking against your clit, his fingers rubbing circles on where he can’t reach? You hope the sounds of the city outside your flat cover the mewls that spill out of you as he lays his tongue flat against it and laps up your wetness. 

“I think we should get you more tan in the front, too, right, schatje?” Joost says, breathless, and you flip over, laying on your back for him. Before he can get back to business, you cup his chin, pinching it gently between your fingers. His lips are covered in your wetness, glistening with it in the sunlight. You pull him to you, bringing his lips to yours, the salty taste of yourself on your tastebuds, on your chin as well now. 

This all makes you realize—you weren’t wrong at all for missing him so terribly. 

When you pull away, Joost pauses, gazing at your face, brushing your hair out of your eyes. On top of you, lying partly on you, he cups your cheek, silver chain resting on your chest, the pearl pendants and the halves of one heart of the matching necklaces you own together right next to each other. 

“Zo mooi,” he says quietly as he lowers down, kissing your chest right next to your pendants, kissing down between the valley of your breasts, maneuvering so he can graze your nipple with his teeth, flatten his tongue over it. His hand comes up to cup your other breast as he sucks at the bud, then sucks at the skin next to it; that will leave a mark tomorrow, a sweet reminder of your time together. 

Finally, he’s satisfied with his work on you and starts down your body, kissing your stomach, your hips. Before you can even process it, he folds you in half, hands on the backs of your knees; licks one long stripe through your folds, then attaches his lips around your clit, sucking it, forcing a loud and choked moan out of your mouth as he alternates between licking hard at your bud with the tip of his tongue and sucking.

Joost is a fiend for it, devilish look in his eyes, smile on his mouth even when it’s pressed up so close against you—his fingers tease at your dripping wet hole, then his middle fingers are inside you, and then he’s there to the knuckle and petting at your g-spot incessantly. 

Joost knows you inside and out; can already tell that your pretty hands resting on the back of his head and holding him there will result in your fingers tangled in his hair and tugging lightly; knows that a few more seconds of his curling fingers and his tongue on you will make you try and push against his hand still holding you open with your thigh, you’ll fail to do so, and be happier for it. 

You’re too lost in your pleasure to look at him like he wants you to. No matter—you’re a beautiful sight coming undone for him, eyes closed, chest heaving with your breaths, a slight sheen to your skin. “Joost,” you sob quietly as he continues pumping his fingers in and out of you, continuing to lap at your pussy like he’s trying to quench an unquenchable thirst. 

“Mhm? Do you like it, schat?” Joost says against you, the vibrations of his deep voice making you twitch. You nod, and there it is—he pauses to smile when he realizes you're holding his head in its place, burying his face in your center. Who is he not to give you what you want? He drinks you in, and it makes you moan louder. “Keep quiet,” he mumbles. “We wouldn’t want the neighbours to hear, now would we?” 

You’ve come back to reality enough to nod, quiet down a little, but after a few more seconds of him sucking your clit, pistoning his fingers in and out of you, you cum, saying his name over and over again, then whispering it once you realize that yes—you’re still outside. Joost presses one last sloppy kiss against your overstimulated bud, and you nudge his face away with your fingertips, laughing breathlessly. 

Joost laughs too as he settles his cheek on the inside of your thigh, peppering soft kisses to it as he gazes at you; the look in his eyes is so tender, you almost want to look away, but you don’t. You’d take a picture if it wasn’t so glaringly obvious what you were doing before. You cup his other cheek, and he nuzzles further into your thigh, eyes closed. 

For a few moments, you stay like this, catching your breaths, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm together. After a little, Joost wipes his mouth and his cheeks with the back of his hand. “Owie,” Joost winces, reaching back to rub over the spot on his head where you pulled on his hair. “You really enjoyed that, schatje,” he smiles, climbing up over you. 

“I'm sorry,” you say softly, putting your hand over his as he lies down on you, head on your chest. “I shouldn’t have tugged so hard.” 

“It’s okay, it was worth it.” You pet his hair—Joost is so warm, the air is so hot around you, but you’ve never felt better. “I’m so hard it hurts, schat,” he mumbles, and you laugh as he shifts around on top of you, erection through his shorts poking your thigh. 

“Let’s fix that?” 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

With quickness, Joost is up and off of you, straightened on his knees and parting yours, but you sit up. Hooking your fingers on the waistband of his trunks, you pull them down slightly, pulling him in to kiss you as you pull them lower, letting his cock spring out as you kiss sloppily, strawberry stained tongues meeting. You wrap your hand around his thick shaft, run your thumb over his weeping pink tip to spread around the precum, which makes him groan into your mouth, makes your teeth knock together. 

You stroke him a few times, Joost’s hand resting at the base of your neck. It’s like time slows down when you pull away from him and watch him and his furrowed blonde brows, the way his lips are dropped open, the pink blush of his skin creeping down his neck to his chest with all of this exertion. 

Joost opens his eyes, catching you gazing at him intently, and he brings his forehead to yours as you keep jerking him, and holds your face in his hands. “Catch me if I fall?” he asks, and you laugh. 

“So dramatic.”

“You don't even know, dude.” A few more kiss-filled seconds pass until Joost finally calls it—“Enough, baby, I need to be inside of you now, please.” 

Nodding, you lie back, opening your legs for him. He sits back, stroking himself. “No crying today, hm, schat?” Joost says as he takes his place between your legs. “No crying unless it’s out of pleasure, of course. Or if you want to cry out of sadness, that’s okay, too.” 

“I’ll take note of that, thanks,” you smile as Joost lines up with your entrance, lying over you. You slip your hands underneath his shirt, fingers running over Rayquaza, his skin piping hot on yours. The pool still sloshes, the sun is much higher, he's inching his cock inside of you and saying something in Dutch that sounds like whatever is equivalent to “fucking Christ,” his face screwed up in pleasure. 

“So warm,” Joost practically whimpers, and you both know that he certainly didn’t mean to say that in such a whiny tone. “So warm,” you laugh, making an exaggerated moan to tease him as he covers his face with his hands and laughs with you. 

“Shut uppp.” Another inch inside you, so deep. “I wish you could feel how it feels, it’d change your life.” Every vein and ridge on his cock, you can feel as you envelop him fully. “You changed mine,“ he says, and it makes your heart soar. “Over/under, 3 minutes, schat?” 

“Under. Over/under 30 seconds?” 

“Under. Maybe. Jesus fuck, you feel so good,” he laughs, breathless. “So tight, you’re amazing.” Joost goes silent as he fully bottoms out in you, but a few moments pass, and he states like he’s been thinking of it the entire time, “Lowkey, I wish we had one of those squeeze bottles,” he makes a disturbingly good squeeze bottle sound with his mouth, “Pfft-pfft. We could be oiled up super quick if we did. Maybe for next time I give you a massage.” 

You give him a puzzled, amused look—you know him like the back of your hand, but where his mind wanders sometimes, you aren’t sure. “I just don’t know,” you laugh. “Maybe we can workshop that idea.” Joost grinds himself against your clit, and you moan into his mouth as he comes down and kisses you. 

Joost fucks you like you both have all the time in the day to be here—as far as either of you are concerned, you do. Long, languid thrusts that you both watch as his cock disappears inside of you, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your clit. The wet, hollow slaps of his hips against your ass are filthy music to your ears; you pant into each other’s mouths, close enough to touch, but not wanting to for the sake of watching each other, eyes open. 

You snake your arms around his neck, bringing him closer as his thrusts become shallower, quicker, erratic, punching into your g-spot. Without warning, Joost straightens up, exiting you fully, then lifts your hips up to meet him where he is, his shaft rubbing against your clit. 

“Ik hou van je, lieverd."

“Ik hou van je, Joost, I love you so much.” 

Joost’s face lights up then melts once he hears you speak Dutch—it’s so cute, like a little surprise for him even though you try to speak it with him regularly. Since it’s easier for you to express yourself in English, he'd rather you just speak Dutch at work and school like you already do, but the excitement in his expression when you do speak it is priceless. 

He sinks inside you once more, a loud shared moan between you two; this angle allows him to be deeper inside you than before. You tighten around him, and he sighs in pleasure. Joost splays his fingers out on your belly. “Kun je me hier voelen, diep in je?” 

“Ja, je voelt je zo goed, schat,” you breathe. Your praises seem to incense him to thrust into you firmly, out, in, out, in, sloppy, though you can’t blame him. Still, the head of his cock hits your spot with every seat of himself in you. He smoothes his tattooed hand over your chest, your erratic heartbeat probably felt through to his palm; he moves up to put his thumb in your mouth, and eagerly, you suck as he fucks you. Anything to quiet yourself, anything to have more of him inside of you. “I’m close, Joost,” you say once he moves his hand to your shoulder for leverage. 

Nodding, he says, “Me too,” keeping the pace, smearing more of your wetness over your clit so his fingers slide over it better as he rubs it for you.  

A few more reckless thrusts, your arms flying up around his neck for support, lips catching each other’s, swallowing each other’s moans. That familiar tugging feeling in your stomach grows and grows until you can’t ignore it anymore, your core tightening, your pussy tightening around him as you gasp out his name over and over again with your climax, and he gasps out yours. He’s not finished yet, but his hips have lost the rhythm they once had, his control over his impending orgasm with how you’ve constricted around him. 

“Schat, hold on for me a little.” 

“I should be telling you that,” you say, though you understand—the overstimulation of his cock dragging against your insides is getting to be a lot. You hug him close, your lips right next to his ear, his panting breaths right in yours as he ruts into you. “Cum inside me, Joost,” you whisper, and with one last deep thrust inside of you, he cums with a groan, with a breathy moan of your name, clutching your body tightly in his hands as he shoots inside of you, cock pulsing; so warm, being filled up like this, no space between you two, his stuttering hips fucking back into you for a few final thrusts.

In each other’s arms you lie there, panting—sweaty skin on sweaty skin, music still playing from the speaker, him softening inside of you. Joost kisses you deeply, kisses your cheeks, your chin, and you smile. “You are everything I’ve ever wanted and more, schat,” he says into the side of your neck. “Don't forget that.” 

thank you so much for reading! likes, comments, reblogs always so so appreciated <3 : ) - juno

[vanilladove]

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."

[pedrospatch]

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.

[pumpkinbxtch]

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.

[saberlight1]

— 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.” 

[leviismybby]

Nsfw 18+, mdni,

Levi Ackerman x fem!reader (just a little something I wrote for Levi..)

"I'm sorry." Levi breathlessly says, his hands running down your sides. There's something about the way he says it that hurts you because he is apologizing for the things he has no control over.

"I know." You tell him as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull his naked body closer to yours. His hands move down to spread your thighs and your breath catches in your throat as he enters you.

He leans his forehead against yours and pushes his cock slowly into you, your nails scrape down his back the more you feel him push into you. "Fuck...fuck..." Levi says, closing his eyes for a moment to relish in the way your pussy feels.

"Can I move?" You nod, eyes locked with his gray ones. There's something different in them, something you have hardly seen before. You can't tell if it's regret or concern.

Biting your lip, you nod your head. He moves his hips, his cock sliding in and out of your heat, you throw your head to the side, a moan leaving your lips.

Levi shuts you up as he kisses you, his tongue immediately entering your mouth making the kiss passionate. His hips start snapping at a faster pace, cock reaching deep in you.

"Mhh Levi...." Your pussy clenches around him, he hisses, never has he felt something better than this. He had women, here and there, rarely but it was about you. What he felt for you won't go away in one night, what he felt for you, he never felt for someone else.

"Yeah? Want me to go faster?" He pulls away from your lips, his hand settling at your hips gripping them tightly. "Please.." Begging, you're begging him to go faster and he does, giving you both what you need.

Levi spreads your legs further, snapping his hips into you. Your eyes roll at the back of your head, hand gripping the sheets beside you tightly to the point where your knuckles turn white.

"Deeper...deeper Levi." Can he get deeper? You feel too good for him, he thinks that he is already deep enough but seeing the way you start to move your own hips, fucking yourself on his cock leaves him with no choice.

He goes deeper, pounding into you at a fast speed. The bed creaks with each of his thrusts, sweat running down his chest and abs. Levi grips the headboard and your nails dig into his back, leaving him with marks that will be a reminder that he did something he shouldn't have.

But forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest. He never knew what that line meant, he does now as your back arches off the bed, the wood hitting against the wall of Levi's bedroom.

His thrusts only get more ruthless, you can feel him in your stomach almost, he is so deep on you and you love it despite the way your legs start to shake.

"You feel so fucking good. I don't want to stop. I want you like this forever." Levi didn't know if he said those words out loud, it didn't matter because they were the truth.

His hands leave the headboard and he takes your face in his hands, kissing you on the lips sloppily. You feel his cock twitch inside of you, your navel burning. Both of you are close to your peaks.

You moan into his mouth when he slows his hops down but it feels better, like he savoring the way this feels, the way you feel because he knows that he most likely won't get to do this again.

"Cumming....I'll cum.." You whimper, Levi leaves bites on your neck, his hands under your back pulling you close to his chest, you can feel his every scar against your skin.

"Fuck..go on, let me have it." He bites your neck harder and that's all it takes as you cum, your hands gripping on his dark locks, back arching even more off the bed.

You cum all over him and he follows shortly, filling you up with his cum. "Shit name! Good girl..." He moans, his eyes looking at yours as he finishes.

"I'm sorry." I'm sorry that the world isn't letting us love. He apologizes breathlessly again. "I know." You repeat. Love doesn't choose, it is merciless and blind.

And perhaps if you were on his side, there would've been a chance for you two but as you ride on the boat back to Marley you look as the sun sets and illuminates the water down below.

It wasn't meant to be, not in this world at least. But maybe one day, you'll see each other again and this time, you'll be able to tell each other those three words.

I love you.

---------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @youre-ackermine @the-milk-anon @yakaaamoz @svftackerman @sixpennydame @humanitys-strongest-bamf @mrsackermannx @randomlevithoughts @cometlevi @notgoodforlife @luvjiro @levisbrat25 @lovolee3 @loveackermannn @ackermendick

[tellodona]

i saw anon ask this in my inbox, but i accidentally deleted it 😭 i hope anon would see this !

the brothers seeing mc use sfx makeup

heads up: gn!mc, swearing in lucifer's

lucifer

he hasn't seen you all day, so he assumes you haven't left your room

hm. he has spare time. what's wrong with checking in on you?

he knocks on your door, and patiently waits for you to open it

when you do, what greets him is the sight of you with blood everywhere on your face

your makeup had your left eye blackened out (you just closed it) with fake blood dripping right out of it. and you even took the liberty of making yourself paler than usual

mc. what. the. fuck.

right of the bat, he could smell toxins on your face, and deduced it was makeup

but that still doesn't stop him from freezing over

"lucifer... are you okay?"

"*clears his throat* yes, i am, mc. are you perhaps trying... very detailed makeup?"

he has mixed feelings about it

one, wow, you're talented, good job, you almost scared him, mc

second, the blood reminded him too much of something and someone

"mc... please give me a heads up when you try this... sfx makeup, if you would"

that would depend

mammon

he had a big win in one of the casinos he frequents, so of course you had to know too!

he stomps towards your door and barges into your roon without much of a warning

you flinched and accidentally got lipstick on your teeth, so look turned and glared at him

he SCREAMS

"MC WHAT THE HELL??????????"

you had makeup to look like your face was burnt, and it looked too realistic for his liking. with your glare, it made you look more terrifying

he was shaking in his place because he got so scared-

ehem! the GREAT mammon doesn't get scared, okay?!

still though, you sigh and you should gently apologize to him

"mc, you scared the bejeebers outta me! i- i mean... i was surprised! just surprised! this're the things you gotta tell me, alright?!"

from then on he learnt how to knock. but it's more like slamming on your door impatiently

leviathan

because of the extent of his knowledge in cosplaying, you wanted his opinion on something about your makeup. like the color of your eye contacts maybe

you knock on his door, and when he doesn't answer, you hear faint sounds of a game going off inside, so you took the liberty of going inside

there he was, busy in front of his computer on a game that probably just came out an hour ago

you waited for him to finish, so when he did, you called out his name

he flinched, sighing, "mc, you have to stop scaring-"

he turns around and pales

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

he threw his controller at you, which hit you square in the face

we are NOT forgetting about the fact that he's a literal grand admiral

of course you're falling down on your bum

"m- m- m- mc, i'm so sorry!!!!!!"

literally on his knees begging for forgiveness

after a while, the both of you calm down

he finally takes into detail with your sfx makeup, which looks like you were drowned in the sea and you had tears coming out of your eyes

"maybe gray would look great... or blue?"

he'd help with whatever you need, just don't scare him like that again, normie!

satan

he'd recently borrow a book from the human world from you, finished it in one sitting, and wanted to return it to you

he knocks on your door, and when you told him to come in, he did

you were in front of your mirror, but he wasn't in the angle to see your reflection

"mc, i wanted to return your book- oh."

you returned around, looking at him curiously

your makeup made an illusion where your face seemingly split apart in the middle, one side was crying, and one side was angry

it hit home for him, despite the absolute gore of a thing you have on your face right now

he just wore a frown on his face, making you have a feeling of worry, "satan... are you okay?"

he gets out of his head and nods

"i just wanted to return your book. sorry if i'm intruding on something."

you assure him it's fine, and he debates whether to stay or not

he does, he sits on your bed behind you

"what's your inspiration for that, mc?"

asmodeus

you were asking for some makeup suggestions these past few days which was he excited to share with you

"are you going somewhere, mc? oh, oh! can i come? i can, right?!"

you laugh and tell him it depends

it's been two days since you last asked for makeup suggestions, so he assumed you already have them

he skips towards your room with a happy hum, knocking on your door, "mc~ i'm coming in!"

he walks in, smiling brightly

you were just finishing up, and you turned around

he almost hurls

"o- oh... that's what you've been up to, huh?"

you had some sort of crown on top of your head, but it was broken in half. your face had distorted make up on it, scratch marks all over, broken jewels decorated around your face, and some sort of gunshot wound on your forehead

he walks closer to you, his smile coming back, "can i make some suggestions?"

he immediately got hooked

be ready for an impromptu photoshoot

beelzebub

he'd recently receive a coupon for one of the restaurants he always go to that everything will be 25% if you bring someone with you

he immediately thought about you

he happily walks to your room, a smile on his face thinking about how much food he'll be eating and that you would be there with him

he knocks like once, before he just opens your door

"mc, i got a coupon after winning- what are you doing?"

he tilts his head when you look like you were poking at something on your face with a brush

you turn around to find him standing there with said coupon in hand, "what is it, beel?" you ask

but he just freezes

you had yourself look like you were crying, burn marks all over your face, and you wore an eye contact on your right eye to make it look like it went blind

"beel?" you try calling out again

he shakes his head when he stops thinking and the smell of the makeup's toxins flaring in his nose

"oh... uhm. you look great, mc. i didn't know you could do that."

you thank him, and he went on with the tangent about the coupon

he's desperate in subtly ignoring the makeup

belphegor

it's rare, but somehow he got a nightmare

he forgot about it as soon as he woke up, but he was still feeling a little restless

he walks out of his and beel's room and walked downstairs

he finds your light still open, so he immediately decided to make it your problem

he just opens your door without any prior warning and sees you standing by your bed

he raises an eyebrow and calls your name

you turn around and he was dumbfounded

you black and white feathers scattered around your hair, your eyes were depicted to be swollen from crying, your nose is bleeding, a slice on your cheek, and half of your face was burnt

and it felt like his nightmare all over again

"mc...?"

he was frozen over and you had to frantically assure him it was makeup

it took him a while to respond to you, and just nodded

he slept in your bed with you that night

i had some inspirations from the internet, but most of them are little close to home heh

see what i did there?

[jeding-png]

Enjoy chapter 153 cuz next week there is a break—

Bon appetit, dear readers~

Today's chapter is just as delicious as the previous two, but this time, SUOL-nim has blessed us with a break from crying.

Let's start with Derrick and Ivonne's conversation!

In the novel, this conversation should have happened earlier, that is, we observe a similar situation as in chapters 86 and 87 (if I'm not mistaken, the conversation between Penelope and Reynold was also shown there at a different time).

Little Eckhart siblings and Ivonne holding Derrick's hand... it's so cute, especially in such colors—

In the preview for the chapter, it was written that each brother spends time with his sister. That is, Derrick spends time with Ivonne, who has finally returned, and Reynold spends time with Penelope (in the chapter, there are quite funny frames with them).

I'm actually a bit moved by the Derrick and Ivonne moment, but especially the frame with the three Eckhart siblings. Because you can see how Derrick blames himself for everything that happened. It can be seen that he has not accepted the loss of his younger sister for years, unlike the Duke and Reynold.

Yes, Derrick even has tea with her on the day of Penelope's coming-of-age ceremony���

But what is interesting is that the entire chapter did not show us Ivonne's emotions and gaze. Seriously. Therefore, it seems as if the stories where the girl from the stories about the disappearance of the real daughter are different from the one who actually returned.

Congratulations to Ivonne for finally being able to wash her hair outside of the sea and change her clothes!

But back to the coming of age ceremony!!

Did you want to see Penelope in a tiara? It's time! Look how beautiful she is!!

I like the fact that Winter's necklace was indeed, as written in the novel, slightly superfluous for Penelope's image. Mostly, it seems so because of its gray color, in contrast to the pastel blue colors of other decorations.

Magic works in this world, so the petals that resemble the same Elenvik flowers don't just fall out of nowhere, lol.

In the novel, it was said that Reynold even raised their hands even higher so that all the guests could see and have no doubt that the brother and sister had a good relationship, which also prompted an increase in Penelope's reputation.

I can't put into words how impressed I am with the costumes of the characters. Indeed. They look just fantastic. I especially liked Reynold's costume. The peculiarity is that SUOL-nim always draws outfits that have exactly the same style. That is, a certain element of clothing that we can see and immediately recognize for which character it is.

Also, I'm glad to see the same Reynold's ring that was in the first chapters of the manhwa again, haha. No wonder it is on the middle finger—

But nevertheless, in my opinion, this is an important moment of the chapter!

A conversation between Reynold and Penelope mentions the moment they last met, when Reynold was brainwashed.

Somehow you see what a mouth is for and that it can be used for talking and not just for kissing. Isn't that right, dear Callisto and Penelope?

You see images that were real and from the point of view of a brainwashed Reynold. He didn't act as if he deliberately wanted to reprimand Penelope, but on the contrary, to stop her.

Penelope sees Reynold and realizes that he is at least now brainwashed.

And now the moment I've been waiting for for a very long time!..

YES, THESE ARE THE SAME RABBITS THAT REYNOLD GAVE PENELOPE!

In the next chapter, there will be a rather interesting conversation about how Reynold tried to make a rabbit the color of Penelope's eyes. It's really cute moments between them.

But look at the similarities and differences between Derrick's and Reynold's gifts.

they both presented living beings;

both have similarities with Penelope's appearance colors: Derrick gave a bird the color of her hair, and Reynold tried to create a rabbit with the color of his sister's eyes;

different subtext and symbolism of gifts;

the bird has no one to communicate with, it is alone in the cage, and there are many rabbits, and they are quite fragile, but when they hatch, they are unlikely to live in a cage.

In this chapter, I smiled, while Penelope hardly did, if not at all. The chapter is over on the rabbits... so anyone who wanted to see Callisto, he will be in two weeks :'D

[toomanygoldfish]

apple juice at a coffee shop

“could I get an apple juice?” Your order may be fairly simple but at least it’s consistent.

you and Iwaizumi were at a local coffee shop, wasting your time before the movie you were supposed to watch started.

“sure! what size?” She looked up at you expectantly.

“let’s go with… medium” The barista picked up a cup and wrote something small on it before passing it to her coworker.

“of course one medium apple juice coming right up!” She turned to Iwaizumi, “and for you sir?”

his eyes widened in surprise like he wasn’t expecting to be asked something like that. His eyes frantically looked into the menu.

“Oh…. Um …. Can I get a medium London fog?” The barista smiled lightly at him before marking his cup and handing it to her coworker once more.

“of course. Is that it for you two?” she asked mildly. Iwaizumi looked to you in mild panic.

Noticing his panic you quickly end the conversation,“yup, thank you” you turn to your boyfriend.

“iwa? A London fog? I didn’t take you for a tea kind of person”

“it’s tea??” “yes?? What did you think you got?!” You notice someone standing behind him, so you loosely pull his arm, guiding him out of the person’s way.

“I don’t know? It was on the board as a barista favorite, and I’ve never been here before, so I was kinda caught off guard.”

Chuckling lightly you look at him with a raised brow, “you got a new drink because it was somebody’s favorite?”

“yes…” He leans against the pickup counter, “to be fair I didn’t know what else to get.”

You stare into his soul for a second longer before looking away, “you’re strange.”

“ and yet, you love me for it.” He reaches for you hand and holds it in his own.

“that I do,” you squeeze his hand affectionately, “your tea is ready”

he grabs his tea from the barista and walks away, he pulls you after him not once letting go of your hand. once you are a few meters away from the counter he pauses and brings the cup up to his nose, sniffing hard. he pauses for a moment, seemingly trying to figure out how to feel about the smell before going in for another sniff. He does this three more times.

“Pfft- you look like a weirdo right now, just a buff dude leaning over his hot drink sniffing hard” you start to pull him towards the exit, he follows you haltingly, stopping every few feet to sniff the cup again.

“Have you ever had a London fog?” He walks to the door and pushes it open, holding it for you as you step through it.

“no, I don’t know what’s in it”

“neither do I”

“ you should look it up, let’s sit here”

You sit down on a bench outside the coffee shop. You had started to take some small sips of your apple juice as you checked you socials. When you glance over at Iwaizumi, he is intensely staring at his phone.

He puts down his phone and catches your eye, “it is gray tea and steamed milk” he gives you a small smile and you return it.

He goes to take a si, but right before he sips, he brings the cup back up to your nose. You snort because he has never been the type of person to be scared by trivial things, let alone a new drink.

He turns to you once more,“it smells like lavender, smell it” he passes you the drink, carful not to spill its hot contents on you. you bring it closer to you nose, and take a deep breath. “ooo it does! Take a sip!”

He very cautiously brings it to his lips. Iwaizumi takes a tentative sip then closes his eyes, deep in thought.

He hesitates then says “it tastes like lavender… it tastes like how a microwave sock smells”

You blanch,“I’m sorry? A microwave sock?”you swivel to look him in the eyes, and repeat very slowly “a microwave sock?”

He places his drink down on the table. “you know….” He pauses to think for a second “The one where you put it in the microwave and heat it up, some girls use it for cramps?”

You blink incredulously at him. “a rice sock?”

“yes! that’s the thing, here try it!” You grab the drink from in front of him, you drink slowly, careful not to burn you tongue.

You pause to think carefully, and the more you think about it the more you realize that he had gotten the taste spot on. “oh, OH your right!!”

you slide the drink back over to him, and he grabs it and starts to drink. He manages to burn his tongue. Iwaizumi takes another sip and wrinkles his nose. “Do you not like it?” He face was scrunched up adorably, but it softened into a small smile when he saw you looking at him.

“it’s not my favorite,” he says honestly “I mean, it feels like something you would take studying, but I’m not studying, I’m on a date with my lover”

now it’s your turn to wrinkle your nose at his wording. “don’t say it like that! It sounds like I’m you affair partner”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and sips at his drink again, he gives a noncommittal “Mmm.”

you look at his face and chuckle. “You can toss it ya know”

“with the liquid in the cup?”

You shrug “I don’t see why not, you could also pour it out”

He checks his phone and goes to stand up, “ok, our movie is in like 3 minutes, let’s go.” The two of you start on your way to the theater behind you. Iwaizumi stops next to the plants running next to the walk way. He pulls the lid off of the cup and slowly pours it into the ground. You speak up from behind him.

“do you think it’s cannibalism?”

“what?” “giving your tea to the plants,” you pause and stare intently at the wet patch of dirt, “they are drinking the soul of their brethren” he gives you a strange look before putting the lid on the cup.

“I think everything is a cannibal if giving the chance.” He shrugs and throws his cup into a trash can nearby. “given the chance… iwa I think you mean, ‘put in dire situation’ cause if you say it like that….” You widened your eyes, chuckling and look deliberately to the side.

Iwaizumi gives you a weird look before grabbing your hand and pulling you closer to him. “Alright, let’s move on from that topic, let’s go to the movies”

You smile widely, “with your affair partner!”

“no-“

[ashs-cardboard-box]

First meetings

~ Dutch Van Der Linde, Hosea Matthews/Teen!Male!Reader

~ Familial (found family)

~ 1.5k words

CW; Mentions of hanging

Request :3

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You fucked up– big time. Committing crimes in a rapidly developing town like Blackwater was stupid, you knew that, yet what other choice did you have? Tears welled up in your eyes as you peer down at the crowd from atop the podium, noose placed over your head and lying across your collarbones. Thirteen and sentenced to death by hanging for repeated crimes of thievery, robbery, and assault. Unfortunately, the law had caught you.

You tried your hardest to get away from the lawmen after you, but they swarmed you like flies on shit. Your hands were bound behind your back with some excess rope, just to prevent you from struggling. Humiliating and terrifying were an understatement. As soon as you felt a boot in your back propelling you off the wood, you were convinced this was how it would end for you.

That was, however, until you heard a gunshot, then hit the ground with a painful thud. Disoriented and confused, you used it to your advantage. Clambering up to your feet and running in the first direction your legs would carry you. The voices calling after you were drowned out by the loudness of your heart in your ears.

Your arm and shoulder ached terribly. The soles of your feet were scraped up due to the roughness of the stones lining the Blackwater streets. Your muscles were burning with exertion as you continued to run as fast as you possibly could– panting like a madman.

Coming across the lesser developed Southside, you only stopped running to take cover in an old alleyway. Your legs felt incredibly shaky as you stood and tried to catch your breath. You’ve never felt more focused on your surroundings in your entire life. Yet there was a question that burned in your mind. Who saved you?

Sliding down the brick wall until your bottom rests on the dirtied ground below, feeling your hands start to go numb at the awkward angle of tension. Your eyes darted around swiftly in search of something you could use to help you get free. Spotting an old shard of glass, you shuffle over towards it.

Slowly standing back up, only to step through the loop your arms have created, putting your bound hands in front of you. Bending back down to pick up the glass and getting to work. Sawing and stabbing at the rope awkwardly, making slow progress. All the while keeping your surroundings at the forefront of your mind like a cornered animal.

You only manage to make it a fourth of the way through until you hear people calling out for someone. Shooting a brief glance over your shoulder to make sure they aren’t looking for you, only to meet their eye through the entrance of the alley.

You’re quick to lift your hands and point your shard of glass in their direction in an attempt to ward them off, though they only chuckle.

“Easy now, son. We aren’t gonna hurt you..” The first man speaks calmly, lifting his hands up in surrender. His eyes darted over your frame just as yours did his. His short, blonde hair sat neatly atop his head, combed down professionally. A blue blazer topped his white, collared shirt, tucked into faded blue jeans. His boots scuffed against the ground as he approached you like an animal prone to attack.

“Just put the…glass- down, kid.” The second man speaks up, just a bit behind the first with his hands resting on his belt. His black hair was slicked back out of his face, though a few strands flew out of place after chasing you down. He seemed just as tidy as the first gentleman. Wearing a red button down shirt underneath a rather expensive looking dark gray vest. Just barely reaching the waistline of his pinstripe pants.

“Stia indietro, signore! Non si avvicini!*” you shout with a slight crack in your voice. Pushing yourself back away from the slowly approaching men, brandishing your glass shard towards them. Your words cause them to halt in their step. Looking towards one another in a mixture of confusion and amusement before they look right back to you. (*”Stand back, sir! Don't come any closer!”)

“Uh-” The second starts, clearing his throat with a brief glance off towards the entrance of the alley before he looks right back to you. “What is that? Italian?” He questions, causing the first man to look over at him with a shrug, then returning to you with a single step in your direction, causing you to wave your glass as a threatening reminder.

“Do you- uh.. Hable.. English?” The second presses with uncertainty. Your eyes rapidly flicking between the two of them warily, nodding slowly at the man’s poorly managed question. The first sighs and slowly lowers his hand down to his side. His movements are slow and deliberate as he moves towards a sheath resting on his hip.

“Do you want that rope offa you?” He asks hesitantly. You did, desperately. It was rubbing your wrists raw with all of your struggling and sawing. But you refused to ask for help from these two. So, you just scowl at them defensively. That doesn’t seem to deter them however.

While the first man approaches you carefully, the second stands back with his arms folded over his chest, staring down at you. “What’s your name, boy?” the raven haired man inquires, but your eyes remain on the man with the knife. You don’t respond to his question. The grip on your glass tightens ever so slightly as the blonde kneels down in front of you.

The second man sighs and leans slightly to be able to watch if you’re going to cut the other man. To his surprise, you don’t. You’re far from compliant, still pointing the shard at the first man, but you don’t cut him. You sit still as his knife cuts through the ropes.

“That there is my good friend Hosea.” the man continues with a nod towards the man kneeling in front of you. You shoot a brief glance over towards the second man before you look back towards Hosea. He’s being extra careful not to cut you as he tucks the sharp edge of his knife underneath each layer of the rope binding your wrists together.

“Had it not been for him, you would’a been another hangin’ body.” Those words catch you off guard. What did these men want with you? Were they the ones who shot the rope? “Shut up, Dutch.. You’re the one who pulled the trigger.” Hosea chuckles with a small grunt, cutting through the last of the rope around your wrists, causing it to fall into your lap. Looking down at your wrists, you can see the indent marks from the twisted twine pressed into the surface of your skin. It stings from the amount of friction put on the area.

“Was still your idea.” The man, Dutch, continues with a small shrug. The two of them look at you with sympathy. Their eyebrows pinched together and a frown creeping across their lips. “You alright, kid?” Hosea asks as he slides his knife back into its sheath.

You look back up towards Hosea, then to Dutch, then back to Hosea. Your confusion and wary evident on your face. “Y/N.” you mutter quietly, slowly putting your glass down on the ground behind you. “Hurts..” you whisper as you gently rub your sore wrists. You knew Dutch was right. Had they not saved you, you would’ve been dead.

“Yeah.. it will for a bit.” Hosea confirms with a curt nod. Putting his palms on his knees and slowly rising back to his feet with a small groan. He glaces over to Dutch, giving a directional nod towards you with a quirked eyebrow. The pair are almost speaking telepathically with one another. Dutch sighs and steps closer to you, staring down at you.

“Look.. Y/N.. we have a gang. It’s- well..” Dutch pauses, watching as you push yourself to your feet and dust your palms on your thighs over your pants. “You’d be the first person to join, aside from us two, of course. We’ll keep ya fed and clothed..if ya want. You ain’t got a family, do you?”

You slowly shake your head, but don’t say anything. You couldn’t lie and say that didn’t sound good. You weren’t sure the last time you had something to eat that wasn’t from the trash or out of peoples’ hands. 

“Then it’d be a plus for you. Think of it like an.. Unconventional family.” Hosea chimes in with a small shrug, hooking his thumbs on the pockets of his pants. They seemed to tower over you as they stare down at you.

It was probably yet another stupid idea on your behalf, but what did you have to lose? You owed it to the men, of course. Just to humor them for a little while. With a sigh, you nod. They seem pleased with your response. 

Dutch uncrosses his arms and places a hand on your shoulder as Hosea steps out of your way. The two of them leading you out of the rotten alley and back through the streets of Blackwater, protecting you entirely from any sort of lawmen out looking for you. Maybe, just maybe, things wouldn’t be so bad.

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Your request was a bit too similar to a story I had previously written so I had to change it a bit- still hope you like it !! :3

Please don't kill me for the Italian </33 I don't speak it whatsoever

[moviestarmartini]

where she goes. — brahim díaz x reader.

tranquilita tu siempre te roba el show / una perversa le vo'a dar dembow / si se pone en cuatro i go where she goes.

summary: (based on this request) you slept with brahim full knowing he only did it to get over his ex. when he comes asking for more you decide to ignore him and disappear, full of pride. too bad he knows where to find you.

wc: 2.6k

warnings: yet again basic sentences in spanish (some i translated), nsfw (18+), stubborn mfs, alcohol consumption, prideful mfs, unprotected sex but what's new (not endorsing it!!!!), p in v, fingering, dom!brahim, he's a bit mean here whoops, spanking (nothing too extreme i promise), praise, aftercare, he's a lil shit here.

A/N: i stalled for a second but i'm so happy how this turned out !! thank you reina @thelvsickgirl for the request mwah mwah i hope you like it 🤍

now playing... where she goes by bad bunny

You stared at the messages in disbelief. You knew very well you were just a rebound, and though it was very well the best fuck of your life, you doubted if that was the case for him too. It was just your ego controlling your every thought, embarrassed you were the second option for him to come back to every time he found himself lonely. After not long consideration, you decided to listen to your pride and ignore the messages. 

Brahim stared back at the blue gray check marks, noticing how you went online on and off but no typing. There was no true intention to reply, thus meaning you didn’t want to respond, and you wanted him to know that. The same sense of pride invaded the two of you. ‘Fine. If she can ignore me, I can ignore her back. Game on.’ and he ignored you ignoring the messages, chest puffed with toxic dignity. 

But it wasn’t easy, not as much as he’d imagined. Each time he closed his eyes to rest, the ghost of your body haunted him, and he yearned to have your tits smothering his face once again as you bounced up and down the length of his cock. When he passed by the living room the carpet was still soaked in a stain remover from the red wine you spilled that night, the same one that had gotten you tipsy and stained your blouse, prompting you to remove it. 

And then, as the situation escalated, he replayed it in the same exact way in his mind until he tore himself away from the thought and moved on. Moved on to the thought of what you were up to; if you were seeing someone else, someone that had your voice stuck in the back of your throat like he did. 

Even some considerable time later, he just gave into the urges, the need to see your ass bouncing against his pelvis when he ordered you to get on all fours just to ram you from behind. He knew you well enough to know you were going to be at that club that night, so he sat and waited patiently, being a wingman to his own friends as he waited upon your arrival. 

And God, it did not disappoint. 

You sauntered in as if you walked into your own living room, the act was flawless as you stole gazes and forced them to look at you. But Brahim couldn’t help but smirk when he noticed you were only looking back at him. He watched as you hurriedly excused yourself from your group of friends and trotted over with those stiletto heels, sitting in the empty chair next to him. 

“Stalking me now, aren’t we?” You muttered, calling the bartender over. You couldn’t even bother as Brahim raised his hand to catch his attention first. 

“Un espresso martini para la señorita; lo agregas a mi cuenta.” ‘A espresso martini for the lady; add it to my tab’ The corner of your lip twitched as he knew exactly what you wanted. That also came true as he placed his hand on your knee, caressing a scar from the time you rolled down a hill when you were six.

“When are you giving me another chance, huh?” He inched closer, searching for your eyes. “I came all this way…” He thanked the bartender with a nod, giving you enough space to sip on your drink. “I surrender, okay?” 

You laughed, not even knowing what type of war you found yourselves in. “Surrender to what? ¿Qué está pasando por esa cabecita tuya, Brahimi?” You hummed disinterestedly, taking a long sip before placing the glass down. But there wasn’t any type of humor in Brahim’s eyes, not even with the nickname. He leaned in closer, nose brushing against yours. 

He seemed to straighten up and almost fix his attitude towards you, clearing his throat and brushing his hair back. “Can we… talk somewhere more private? My car, maybe?” He offered, eyes full of regret. 

You convinced yourself for the past month or so you weren’t going to give in so easily. You knew it was just sex, all his compliments and excuses were the pathway straight into his bed, or his couch, or the kitchen counter. But there you were, gulping down the last of your drink before getting dragged out of there, hurriedly texting your friends.

You sat in his car, the air thick as the engine roared awake. “What was it that you wanted to talk about?” You turned to him, still playing hard to get. The act dissolved the second he crashed his lips in yours furiously. “Ay princesa…” He sighed against your lips, his hands messing up your hair. “I want to feel that pussy again.” 

The nod you gave him was enough for the man next to you behind the wheel to break almost seven traffic laws on his way back to the apartment, and you squirmed on your seat, extremely turned on. 

The walk to the elevator was fuzzy, but as soon as you got inside, he almost slammed you against the wall with the rough push, subsequently having his lips take yours. It was sloppy, his lips and surrounding areas tinting in your lipstick, hands exploring under your dress to the point you wondered if he’d gotten you naked entirely.��

He was hungry, insatiable almost. When you reached his floor, the door wasn’t even closed, and you believed he knew how tightly you were wrapped around his finger. You stumbled inside to reach his living room couch, the same place where it all began a few weeks ago. 

You sat in his lap, legs to either side of his body. His hands forced you to arch your back, clothes chests against each other.  “Take off that dress. Keep the heels,” He ordered, pulling your hands away and letting you stand. He wanted a show, and you gave him just that. Your eyes didn’t leave his as you unzipped the little black item, letting it slowly slip down your body and pool at your feet. You brushed your hair to the side, giving him those eyes that chanted ‘slut me out!’ over and over again. 

“Who’s been seeing you in those?” He pointed with his nose to the lacy items that dressed your body under the regular items. He parted his legs, his growing boner becoming more evident.

“You know I wear these to feel pretty.” You replied with equal sass, and he tutted, leaning back. “What?” He saw right through you, and that was only part of it, not the entirety. With no other reply he patted his lap, inviting you to sit in it again. 

You knew better than to disagree, and as soon as you placed your legs on either side of his body, he captured your lips in his. The kiss was frenzied, he grabbed the plush of your ass and kneaded it. The groping made you grind on his lap, the excuse of a piece of fabric rubbing against his clothed boner. 

Brahim broke the kiss, leaving you wanting more. But he kept you away, holding you tenderly by your jaw, but still squishing your cheeks a little. “Don’t lie to me, mamita,” He cooed, voice dripping with sweetness before a smack filled the air, knocking the air out of your lungs. “Who’s been seeing you in that lingerie?” 

“No one, I swear!” You whined, writhing under another spank to your ass. “I kept wearing it in case I ran into you. I never got the courage to get on with someone else.” You heard a small laugh come from him, and sweet pecks soon placed at your chest. 

“Was that so hard to admit?” Brahim brushed your hair back with the palm of his hand, almost petting you. “Too bad you were just a lil’ too stubborn to text me back, eh amor?” His nose brushed against your neck, now depositing the sweetest kisses down its length. His hands played with the clasp of your bra, and it brought small giggles to your slips that mixed in with the moans. 

But the giggles didn’t last long as his hands cupped your breasts, massaging and squeezing them. “Fuck, I missed these,” He groaned, his lips applying sucktion on your shoulder. Surprised, your hands brushed the short strands in the back of his neck before tangling into the longer ones at the top. 

“Eres mía, ¿oíste?” Once his hands left your breasts, his fingers brushed against the newly formed mark. You nodded, breath hitching when his fingertips descended down your torso, hand stuffing inside your panties. He hummed in satisfaction at your wetness, grazing lightly at your clit. His eyes dissected the way you could barely stay straight, sinking further into his clothed thighs. “That’s good, isn’t it?” 

But the way he stared at you also meant he wanted a vocal answer, and with a trembling voice you reassured him, “So good, I swear,” His movements were painfully slow, until he moved his hand further down to tease your entrance. You nodded in consent, feeling two digits push inside. But there he was again moving slowly, taking his sweet time. 

“I’m sorry, is that not enough?” It was as if he was making fun of your moans turning into whining between low chuckles. “Ride them. C’mon.” The situation itself already seemed bizarre, how you ran into him when you most wished you did, only for him to have you completely under his control. You didn’t question him, taking the free pass and allowing yourself to get off, hips rolling on the digits he pumped inside you. You threw your head back, moving upwards and back down again continuously, your slick soon gathering in his palm. 

The moment he curled his fingers to hook against that ragged spot,  heat rose up your body, stomach tickling. Your movements became frantic, eyes glassy as you began to crave that release… only for him to remove his hand from under you, leaving you speechless. He licked his fingers clean with such care, big puppy eyes looking up at you. 

“Cum on my cock, please,” He guided your hand to squeeze the clothed bulge, shivering under your touch. You didn’t waste any time undoing the item, and he helped you out by sliding it— along with his underwear— to rest at his lower thighs. You licked your lips, watching the pink tip leak pre-cum, but decided on kissing him first, hand undoing the buttons of his black shirt. 

But there wasn’t any time to fully remove the item as he rubbed his hard cock against your entrance, knocking the air out of your lungs. “Vamos, princesa.” He encouraged you to sink down the length, his other hand caressing your side. You looked up

at him, only to find his pair of eyes looking back fueled with passion. 

That was enough motivation to check he was correctly lined up before sinking down. A groan in unison burst through the four walls, the grip of hands settling on your sides tightening. You hid your face in his neck, getting used to the stretch. Your bare chest against his own, and for a second you swore you could feel his heartbeat. 

It didn’t take long for you to start bouncing up and down his length, wanting to finish off the job. You were going to grant his wish, the fluids already rolling down to soak the couch a little. He groaned, feeling that peculiar pulsing of your walls, his hands maintaining a hard grip on your waist. 

“Don’t give up on me now, you’ve been doing so great.” Brahim praised, noticing how the build up had thrown off your rhythm. “Let me help.” He urged, positioning your bodies before he thrusted upwards. It was fast and fierce, your moans hitting a higher decibel as he tipped you off towards your orgasm. 

But he didn’t stop, he barely slowed down to give you time to recover before going back to that relentless pace, your head dropping and resting against his shoulder blade. “Mírame” He demanded, his hungry eyes meeting your infatuated ones before he pulled you into a kiss, stopping his thrusts while fully inside you. 

A sloppy makeout, tongues tangled, teeth clashing lightly every once in a while. His cock filled every crevice, his hands explored every inch while you finally removed the button up fully. Without even giving you a warning he switched, and you were under him. “La más bella de todo Madrid, eh my love?” He cooed, hands running down your sides as he took every inch displayed in front of him. 

You couldn’t help but blush, scoffing a little. “Ponte en cuatro,” He asked so nicely you couldn’t decline, hearing how he took off his bottoms, giving you space to get on your hands and knees. Then you could feel him behind you again, giving your ass a light smack before he leaned down to kiss one of your buttcheeks. 

A loud crack followed, and you gasped, looking back at him. “¿Enserio Brahim? This is the second pair! You can’t break things you didn’t pay for.” He tore the lacy thong to shreds easily, ripping it off your body. He only smiled sweetly, blowing you a kiss accompanied by a wink before he was back inside you, thrusting as if his life depended on it. The loud moans and groans— almost pornographic— filled the space once more. Your back arched as your arms gave out, the second release hitting you like a train. 

Brahim couldn’t help but admire your figure as he hit it from the back, a small smile sneaking in from behind his parted lips. He leaned down and circled his arm around your hip to press two fingers on your perked clit, already stimulated enough. Your thighs shook, breath getting stuck in your throat. He had never been a selfish lover, and you knew he wanted you to cum again at the same time he filled you up to the brim. 

“Fuck— fuck, that’s it, one more baby,” He praised as you came undone under him, your legs giving you. He pounded you into the cushions, kissing the back of your shoulder blades. The squeeze your pussy gave him was more than enough to tip him over the edge, glorified chants of your name overshadowed your whimpers. 

In no time he had you cradled in his arms, holding you close against his chest. “Stay the night with me, please,” He nuzzled into your cheek, and you agreed between half lidded eyes. 

You still left the following morning before he could wake up, knowing this was something still casual. He was still trying to get over his ex, and you were the closest person he could do that with; your convictions haven’t changed, even when he spent all night spooning you with his face buried in your neck. 

“You’ve got something waiting on your desk,” One of your coworkers announced as you clocked in on Monday, the others giggling. Curious, you walked slowly to your space to find a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a black box with a pink satin bow. 

You smiled at your coworkers innocently, sitting down to check what was inside the box. Your ears burned as your eyes fell upon the brand new lacy underwear. You closed the box without making much fuss to not attract any attention, checking the note resting on the outside. 

‘ picked them myself so i can break them in peace. 

see you friday, princesa. 

— yours, BD. ‘ 

[ghoststyles]

Baby’s First Check-up

A Fairway to Heaven Blurb

This takes place 1 year after the conclusion of the original story

*no trigger warnings; FLUFF only hehehe

“Harry, can you go upstairs and see if she’s awake yet? I knew we shouldn’t have scheduled the appointment at this time,” Briar puffs air through her lips.

“Sure. Gus Gus, wanna go see if baby sis is awake? We have to take her to the doctor,” Harry looks down at Gus, the gray around his eyes a little more prominent. The dog tilts his head before jumping up from his position on the floor and follows Harry through the entryway.

Briar puts the last minute essentials in her bag, not knowing how long they’ll be at the appointment, since it’s the first one at this office. She lines up the carrier on the counter, ready for Harry to put a wiggly little girl in there.

Harry quietly enters their bedroom, spying his sleeping angel in her little area. Gus stares at her through the mesh, his nose twitching as he smells her. Harry reaches down to gently pick her up, pressing soft kisses in and around her face. He grabs a tiny pink bow to stick in the fuzz on top of her head from the collection on the dresser.

“Good morning, sweet girl. How’d you sleep?” Harry says, scratching her back. He places the pink bow gently on her head. Harry looks around the room before grabbing her small stuffed giraffe, Raffie, and continues down the hallway to the stairs.

He appears in the kitchen minutes later, her little head resting delicately on his shoulder. Briar coos at her, licking her thumb to brush fuzzy hair out of her eyes.

“How’d you sleep, lovie?”

“Sleepy girl today. I think it’s from keeping mama and dada awake all night last night,” Harry smiles, pressing a kiss to her forehead and inhaling the scent from her oatmeal shampoo.

“She’s lucky she’s cute, huh?”

After situating her in the carrier, the proud parents make their way to the car hand in hand. Harry straps the carrier in the rear passenger side, laying a blanket over her while Briar jumps in the front seat. They embark, pinkies interlocked, preparing themselves to answer a million questions.

Harry spots his girl in the mirror, her hair in every direction and staring out the window wildly. His heart grows bigger and bigger for her every day. Briar and Harry’s nights have been long and restless, but well worth it. Now that he has his routine down pat with Oliver, this is a piece of cake.

Harry gently pulls the car into the lot, parking a few spots down from the door. Briar hops out to unbuckle the carrier, slinging the strap over her shoulder. Harry grabs Briar’s bag from the back seat then jogs around the hood to meet her.

The lock hands, walking into the front door of the office. It’s quiet, luckily, but their girl’s eyes are wondering all over the waiting room, taking in the colors. Briar pets at the side of her mouth gently as she sits on Harry’s lap.

“Wynnie Styles?”

Harry and Briar’s heads shoot up. Harry stands up, “Yep, that’s us!”

“Follow me!” The nurse smiles directly at Wynnie.

Harry nods, hiking Wynnie over his shoulder. Harry murmurs to Briar, “They didn’t say her middle name.”

Briar laughs, “It’s okay, just let it go.”

Harry huffs, and they follow her to an alcove in the hall.

“Place her on this scale for me, I want to track her vitals.”

Wynnie’s weight pops up on the screen. Harry beams, gently patting her stomach. “Such a big girl already!”

The nurse smiles, urging them to follow her into an exam room, “Dad, feel free to keep holding her while I listen to her heart and lungs.”

Harry nods, patting Wynnie’s back gently. The nurse holds the stethoscope gently over her heart, moving it around her back.

“Alright, everything sounds good. Dr. Miller will be in shortly.”

“Thank you,” Briar smiles.

“Such a good girl, Wyn.”

They fawn over Wynnie for a few more minutes before the doctor knocks on the door.

“Hi! I’m Dr. Miller.”

“Hi, I’m Harry, my girlfriend, Briar, and this is Wynnie,” Harry says, pointing to each of them.

“Hi, nice to meet all of you. Alright if we jump right in?”

The family nods, waiting for the doctor to continue.

“Let’s talk medications and vaccinations. She should be up to date with shots. How about flea and tick medication?”

Briar nods profusely, “Yes, this is my second Bernese Mountain Dog, and his first.”

“Girl dad!” Harry interjects, his dimples framing his bright smile.

Briar rolls her eyes and continues, “I’m very familiar with the risks. My older dog is 7 now.”

The veterinarian looks at Harry amused, but continues on. She writes a few things down in Wynnie’s chart before sending them off with a clean bill of health. Harry is still weary of letting her walk on the ground, so he holds her until they make it back to the car.

“Who wants a pup cup?!” Harry yells as he gets in the driver’s seat.

“Harry, we can’t spoil her already.”

“Yes I can. Trust me, I can get a lot worse.”

He locks his pinky with hers before kissing her knuckles. Harry surprised Briar with Wynnewood “Wynnie” Dorthea Styles with a house key attached to her collar.

Harry wanted to make a big gesture for Briar moving in, so when she planted the seed of her lease being up, he was on the hunt. He wracked his brain for months trying to figure out the best surprise.

“Hey, Birdie, do you want to see my new clubs?” Harry says smugly as the couple is standing in the parking lot of Wynnewood.

Briar couldn’t give less of a shit, but she loves Harry. She wraps her arms around his waist as he clicks the button to open his car’s back hatch. She doesn’t have much time, since she’s already taken 45 minutes of her 30 minute break to make out with him.

She closes her eyes, smelling his scent of sweat and sunscreen. Harry’s breath hitches, so she opens her eyes. Sat in a laundry basket with pink blankets and toys is an 11-week old Bernese Mountain Dog.

“I- who is that?” Briar questions, eyes wide.

“This is Wynnie. She’s our new baby, Birdie,” Harry says, rubbing her shoulder. Briar breaks free to approach the fuzzy pup. “I hope you don’t mind I named her.”

Briar looks at the name tag, “Is she named after Wynnewood?” Her high pitched puppy voice coming out, a few tears slipping down her cheeks.

“Yep. Wynnewood Dorthea Styles,” he smiles, his heart bursting from his chest. “Look what else is on the name tag.”

Her lip starts to wobble. Dorthea is her favorite Taylor Swift song; they sing it in the car together often. Briar flips the collar around to find a key. “What is this?”

“I want you to move in with me, Birdie,” Harry reaches down to swallow both of them in a hug.

“Harry, your house has a key pad to get in,” Briar gawks at him.

“The key is ceremonial,” he laughs, closing his eyes. “What d’ya say? Wanna live together?”

She presses a gentle kiss to his lips as she wraps her arms around his neck, “Of course. I wanna live wherever this cutie is.”

“What about this cutie?” Harry points to himself.

“Eh.”