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yuutx · 16 days

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ೀ ׅ ۫ . 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐓𝐀'𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊 ? 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ? (𝒪𝒦𝒦𝒪𝒯𝒮𝒰 𝒴𝒰𝒰𝒯𝒜)

okkotsu yūta x f!reader ﾉ 18+ content. ﾉ nsfw + unprotected sex / raw sex ﾉ praise kink ﾉ first time squirting ﾉ established relationship ﾉ doggystyle ﾉ clit play ﾉ oral sex ﾉ dirty talk ﾉ biting ﾉ multiple orgasms ﾉ creampie ﾉ yūta asks for permission to cum inside of you ﾉ mdom + fsub ﾉ not proofread ! ૮ ྀི◞͈ ˔ ◟͈ ྀིა

more more yūta . . i jus' cannot get enough ! sorri about ramblin' 'n posting about him s' often, i jus' miss my boy soooo much ! ! art credits go to @/sso_s__ on twitter ♡ + ↻ are rlly appreciated ! !

Yuuta couldn't help but stare, his heart racing, his mouth dry, his mind going blank. He sat on the edge of the bed, watching as you crawled towards him, his eyes darkening with lust. His cock twitched, precum dripping from the tip, the sight of you on your hands and knees in nothing but one of his shirts making him painfully hard. You were completely bare beneath the loose material, the collar falling off one of your shoulders, exposing soft, delicate skin. Yuuta swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to your breasts, his Adam's apple bobbing as he admired the way they bounced.

"Angel, wait.." He croaked, his hands grabbing onto your hips when you reached him, his thumbs rubbing circles on the skin above the bone. "C'mere, up here." He pulled you up, his hands sliding under your shirt, his fingertips brushing over the smooth skin of your back, making you shudder. Yuuta lifted you up, gently placing you down on the mattress, his large hands running down your body, his touch reverent, featherlight. His hands cupped your ass, squeezing the plush cheeks, spreading them apart, his eyes locked on the sight of your soaked cunt. "Y-you're so beautiful, darling.." He breathed, his voice full of awe, his heart aching with how much love he felt for you. You whined, a desperate need coursing through you, your body aching, a dull throb in your core, the fabric rubbing against your sensitive nipples causing sparks of pleasure to race up your spine. "P-please, Yuuta, please.." You whimpered, reaching out and grabbing his shirt, tugging on it.

"D-don't tease me, p-please, please, I can't take it.. n-need you, need your cock, I-I'm dying.." You pleaded, squirming beneath him, your legs spreading wider, exposing your pussy further. "Please.." Yuuta's expression softened, a fond look crossing his face. "Don't worry, love. I'll take care of you, always will." He cooed, his right hand moving between your legs, his thumb swiping over your slit, collecting the arousal there. You cried out, a sob escaping you, your body jolting, the gentle touch making you feel like you were on fire. "You're so wet for me.." He hummed, his fingers pressing down on your clit, rolling the swollen nub in tight circles. "Such a good girl, such a sweet girl.." His praise made you feel like you were floating, heat rising to your cheeks, butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach.

"My pretty girl, my pretty little dove.." Yuuta purred, his left hand pulling the shirt up, bunching the fabric around your waist. He leaned down, his breath fanning over your back, his mouth trailing kisses along the length of your spine, the muscles in your back arching into him. "Such a lovely songbird.." He sighed, his tongue running over the ridges of your spine, the tip flicking over each knob. "The most gorgeous, most beautiful angel in the world.." He murmured, teeth grazing over your skin. You whined, goosebumps prickling over your skin, a shiver running down your spine. "So soft.." His mouth moved lower, his lips ghosting over the curve of your ass, his teeth nipping at the delicate skin, the sting making you yelp. Yuuta's tongue darted out, dragging across the surface, soothing the stinging sensation, a deep groan rumbling from within his chest. "And all mine." His grip on your hip tightened, his hands holding you in place, keeping you still. His head dipped down, his mouth closing around your cunt, tongue swirling over the entrance. It had been so long since he had last tasted you, his mind turning into mush as the flavour of you exploded on his tongue, sending his senses into overdrive. Your scent overwhelmed him, the sweetness of it filling his nose, making him feel lightheaded.

He sucked on the sensitive flesh, his teeth nibbling on the puffy lips, the slick oozing out of you coating his mouth. "Ahh, ahh, hhaa..!" Your eyes rolled back, your hands twisting into the sheets, your legs trembling, your whole body quivering as he devoured you. "Y-Yuuutaaa, o-oh g-goooddd, ah, aahh.." Your face pushed itself into the pillows, muffling the sounds of your moans, drool dribbling from the corner of your mouth, the material becoming damp beneath you. You could feel his saliva dripping down your inner thighs, his nose pressed against you, his tongue flicking over the tip of your opening, dipping in and out of you, pushing in deeper and deeper each time. "S-s-sooo g-g-good, y-yesss, o-oh, ahhh, y-yeeeess.." Your voice trailed off, a broken, strangled cry escaping you, your cunt clenching around his tongue, ass clenching in his grasp, his name pouring from your lips in a series of unintelligible cries. Yuuta's hands slid up to your stomach, his fingers splayed across the surface, holding you steady, keeping you from squirming too much. Your whole body shook as you came, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train, a tidal wave of pleasure rushing through your veins, a white hot flash blinding you. He was quick to lap up all the juices, not wasting a single drop, a low, satisfied hum reverberating through him. Yuuta pulled back, his fingers gently rubbing your pussy, massaging the sensitive flesh. "There we go, that's it, that's a good girl." He whispered, a gentle smile on his face, his eyes shining with pride. "You taste so good, dove." He sighed, a dreamy look in his eyes. He couldn't help but lick his lips, wanting to savor the sweet, delicious taste of you.

"You ready for me, angel?" He asked, his hands running up and down the sides of your hips, his cock aching to be buried deep inside of you. "Need me to stretch you out first, sweetheart? Want my fingers in you, love?" You shook your head, whimpering, writhing underneath him. "N-no, no, want you in me, w-want your cock please.. please.." You lifted your head slightly off the pillow, peeking over your shoulder at him. Your pupils were blown wide, desperation clear in your expression. Yuta smiled, nodding. "Alright, sweetheart, whatever you want. On your hands and knees for me." He said, helping you up, guiding you into the position he wanted you in. His hands stroked the backs of your thighs, his touch light and tender. "You okay, love? Comfortable?" He checked, making sure that you were comfortable. You nodded, wiggling your ass at him, a desperate sound coming out of you. "Y-yeah, yeah, p-please.. please, Y-Yuuta.." You gasped, grinding back against him, his clothed erection pressing into your ass. Yuuta groaned, the friction feeling heavenly. He let his hands roam, his palms skimming over the soft skin, fingers caressing the dip in your back, running up the column of your spine, making their way up to your neck. His hands rested on your shoulders, squeezing them, before pulling his boxers down, his cock springing free, the tip immediately pressing against the soft flesh of your cunt as if it were drawn to you.

Yuuta hissed, his hips bucking forward, his length slipping between your folds, the slick coating him, lubricating his cock. His breath hitched, the tightness and heat surrounding his shaft made him moan, his head falling forward, chin resting on the nape of your neck. His eyes fluttered shut, a soft gasp slipping from his lips. You felt amazing, your walls gripping him tightly, the slick oozing from your cunt making him able to slide in effortlessly. Yuuta's hands slid down to the front of your body, his palms cupping your breasts, squeezing them, the tip of his cock pushing into you, the stretch burning slightly. He held onto your waist, pulling back before slamming into you, bottoming out, his cock hitting the deepest parts of you. Your back arched, the air leaving your lungs, a strained cry escaping you. "M-missed this.. m-mh.. m..mmh, mm, missed your cock, missed it, missed it..!" You whimpered, the sound muffled as your face sank into the pillows, the angle allowing him to reach places that had never been touched before.

The bed frame creaked, tipping backwards, hitting the wall, the headboard banging against it as he thrusted at gentle pace to start with. It had been a while since the last time the two of you had been together like this, his nerves getting the best of him, making him want to be careful with you. Yuuta was worried about hurting you, about being too rough. Though he wanted nothing more than to ravage you, to take you hard and fast, he didn't want to push his luck, his self control wavering, his restraint threatening to snap. "T-too slow, t-too s-slow, p-please.. m-more, faster.." You pleaded, knowing full well that he was holding back. You couldn't take it, the slow, gentle movements were agonizing, the ache in your core intensifying. Your head was spinning, the slow buildup driving you mad. "Please, please.." You whined, tears spilling from your eyes, your legs trembling, cunt convulsing, walls fluttering. "I-I can't-t.." A high pitched, pathetic whine tore from your throat, a sob leaving you. Your needy voice was enough to snap Yuuta's fragile composure, his control shattering.

He let out a growl, his grip on your waist tightening, his hips snapping back before slamming into you again, a loud crack of skin hitting skin echoing through the room. Yuuta pounded into you relentlessly, a low, primal, guttural sound erupting from his chest. He couldn't think, couldn't see straight, his brain completely shut down, his body taking over, driven by instinct. "I'm here, dove, I'm here, angel. I'll give you what you need, m'here, m'gonna give you my all.." He babbled, his voice strained, a husky rasp. "Sweet girl, my sweet, sweet girl, so good for me, such a good girl, you're such a good girl." The praise only seemed to spur you on, a litany of moans, whimpers, and pleas pouring from your lips. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly, your nails digging into the material, tearing holes into it. "M-my darling, m-my angel, oh.. oh, f-fuck, so good, feels so fucking good, I-I love you, love you, I-I love you.." Yuuta panted, his hips snapping forward, balls smacking your clit, the impact making you keen. He had a death grip on you, the force of his thrusts making your entire body jerk, his hold on you the only thing keeping you upright. You weren't aware that Yuuta could be so rough, his actions taking you by surprise.

The pain was just the right amount of pleasurable, the sharp sting making your pussy drip, the mixture of his precum and your slick making a mess of the bed. Yuuta could feel himself losing control, his rhythm faltering, his thrusts growing erratic, his cock twitching. The sound of the headboard hitting the wall was drowned out by the sounds of the two of you fucking, the wet squelching of his cock sliding in and out of your cunt mixing with the lewd, sinful noises spilling from both of you. You were lost in a sea of euphoria, the constant pressure on your g-spot causing you to come undone, another orgasm crashing through you, a rush of liquid splashing on to the bed, squirt spraying everywhere. You had never squirted before, the feeling foreign and new, the warm liquid trickling down the backs of your thighs. Your vision was blurred, mind foggy, eyes rolling back, your entire body shuddering. The muscles in your abdomen contracted, a tight knot forming, your orgasm tearing through you, a squeal escaping you. The tightening of your walls tipped him over the edge, his thrusts losing their rhythm, his pace faltering, his movements stuttering, hips jerking. "M'gonna cum, love, m'close, so close.." He panted, his hands releasing their hold on you, wrapping around your middle, his arms pulling you up, your back pressed against his chest. "I-in you, can I.. ahhh, f-fuck, can I c-cum in y-you?"

"M-mhmm, mhm!" You nodded quickly, leaning back against him, your head resting on his shoulder. Yuuta's hand moved up, grabbing the side of your head, holding you still. He pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there for a few moments, a groan leaving him. "My angel, my sweet angel, ohhh, I-I love you, I l-love you so much.." He gasped, his teeth sinking into your skin, his canines piercing the delicate flesh. His teeth left an indentation in the skin, the mark turning a deep shade of red. He released the pressure on the bite, his tongue swiping over the wound, soothing the sting. "I love you.. mm.. yes.. f-fuck.." His cock spasmed, a loud moan leaving him, his seed spurting out, pouring into you. He held you tightly, his hips bucking, his cock pulsing. "M-my beautiful girl.. m-my perfect angel.." Yuuta's eyes squeezed shut, his jaw going slack, his chest heaving. He slumped forward, the two of you collapsing on to the bed. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you to him, the side of his face buried in your hair. He placed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his eyes fluttering closed. He stayed inside you, his softening length resting against your g-spot. "Oh, I missed this.. I missed you.."

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dancingtotuyo · 4 months

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5. sleep the hours that i can't weep

Woman | Joel Miller

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You have a rough day

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (Reader is 42, Joel is 56). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: Grief, depression, sadness,

Notes: huge shout out to my beta readers @fhatbhabie and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin I love you both so much! and I appreciate the time you've taken to help me with this story.

Words: 2711

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

Two Months Later

It wakes up with you, the heavy weight that dulls your senses making you feel removed from the world. The bed feels colder, and emptier, like you’re staring into a void. You miss Gabe and his warm smile waking you up. You miss the laughter ever present in his eyes.

Your hand reaches out, fingers spreading over the pillow, his scent long gone. You sigh, eyes closing with the few tears that escape. You pull the covers up, tucking it under your chin. The grief washes over you.

Your bedroom door clicks open. There is a soft patter of little feet on hardwood. Carter’s small hands clutch the sheets as he pulls himself up, slipping into the vacant space. Warm palms touch your cheeks. You open your eyes to be greeted by the same eyes you miss. Only, they’re smaller.

“Morning, Mommy!” He smacks a wet kiss on your cheek.

“Good morning, Baby Boy,” A smile reaches your lips. Your arms wrap around his small frame, pulling him into your arms. You pepper his face with kisses as he giggles, covering his eyes with his hands. “Did you sleep well?”

Carter nods, snuggling further into you. He provides you with a warmth your body can’t seem to produce and the July morning doesn’t chase away. You inhale deeply as the grief settles in again. Double this time, as Carter’s namesake floats through your brain. You know the date well. The birthday of both your brothers. Blake and Carter. The day you spend thinking about Carter. His lifeless body flashes before your eyes. The day you were left alone in the world.

It’s the day you spend wondering if Blake might still be out there, and your parents. Most of the time, you accept that they’re all gone. Today is the exception. It got harder when Tommy showed up. It gave you hope for maybe.

“I think we’re gonna stay in bed for a little bit. How does that sound?”

He doesn’t respond, but you don’t expect him to. He’s content in your arms. You don’t have to go to the clinic today. You won’t. They’ll come get you if you’re needed so the two of you stay snuggled under the covers late into the afternoon.

Joel’s voice pulls you out of your hazy nap. Your limbs feel warm and stiff in a good way. Carter shifts beside you, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead as it always does when he sleeps. Your eyes blink open, Joel’s solid frame slowly coming into focus as he leans against the door frame.

“Hey…” Your limbs extend as you stretch your muscles.

He smiled softly, drawing to the edge of the bed. “You weren’t at the clinic. I was worried something happened.”

“We just needed a day in bed.” Your hand brushes over Carter’s head.

The mattress dips with Joel’s weight. He smiles at Carter’s sleeping form. “Everything okay?” He notes your puffy eyes, red from your previous tears.

You’re tempted to shrug it off and keep the information to yourself, but this is Joel. You’re working on opening yourself up to him.

“It’s Blake and Carter’s birthday today. It just makes me think about my family.”

Joel nods, hand running up and down your covered calf. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

You pull yourself into a seated position. Joel smiles, running a hand over your cheek where tears had run hours earlier, though it felt like they’d hardly stopped. “I must look like a mess.”

You wipe your nose with the back of your hand. The heaviness still rests on your shoulders, but some of the weight has lifted. It doesn’t feel as close as it did this morning.

“Maybe just a little bit,” Joel chuckles, holding up a small space between his thumb and pointer finger. You smack his bicep.

“Rude.” but a smile pushes its way onto your face.

His deep chuckle fills the room. “I’d like to stay if that’s okay. Maybe make you dinner?”

You nod. “I’d like that.”

He kisses your forehead softly, thumb caressing your cheek. The afternoon sun pours through your bedroom window flickering off floating dust particles. Carter’s head is heavy in your lap. You know he’s going to stay up all night. You have no idea how he’s stayed in bed with you all day.

“Good.” He hums.

Your stomach rumbles, loud enough for Joel to hear. He tilts his head your way. Carter shoots up, looking at you through narrow eyes. “Hungry Mommy.”

“We might need to eat dinner at 3 pm.”

Joel chuckles. “I can make that happen.” He eases off the bed. Carter follows his lead stringing sounds together in the process. You get the impression he would like to help. “I agree, bud. Mom could definitely use a shower.”

You scowl.

“And her teeth brushed.”

You cross your arms in protest but the body odor fills your nostrils. Crinkling your nose, you try to ignore it, but can’t. “That’s not very flattering of you.”

“No- but it’s honest.” Joel winks. “You take a shower. You’ll feel better, and Carter and I will make food.”

Carter nods, crossing his arms over his chest. You can’t help but giggle at your toddler. “Okay, okay.” You throw your hands up, and another wave of body odor. “But I expect dinner to be on the table when I’m done.”

“Aye, aye.” Joel salutes you. Carter copies, making you laugh more.

The two of them leave you to prepare a meal. Your stomach growls again as you pull yourself out of bed.

Once you’re in the shower, the tears spill again, mingling with the scalding water of your shower. It’s one of those days when you wonder, why you? Why did you get to live? Why did you have to lose so many people? Blake, Gabe, Carter, your parents, their faces all flash in your minds, some more blurry than others. There are more faces and names still. The people you’ve lost since the outbreak, the people you couldn’t save. The weight compounds, threatening to break you, yet you’re still here. You’re still standing.

Eventually, the hot water dries up and so do the tears.

Joel is right. The shower helps. Despite the bloodshot eyes staring back at you in the mirror, you feel like a new person, your body scrubbed clean from all the sweat and tears. Steam still drifts through the bathroom as you pull on your clean clothes. Your breath smells like mint and your skin like lavender.

Dinner is almost ready when you make your way downstairs, but the warm smells drift through your home. Ellie’s voice joins Joel and Carter’s as Carter shows Ellie where to find the correct dishes. It pulls a tired smile to your lips. She comes and goes these past few months, not sure where she belongs as you and Joel settle into whatever you are. You always make space at your table for her.

“Looks like I should’ve taken longer.” You tease.

Joel smiles, handing you a cup of water. It’s cool on your tongue, feeding your dehydrated body. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

You refill the cup, taking your time with the second glass.

“Nurse Lady,” Ellie says. “I’ve got a question for you.”

“She’s got a name,” Joel glances Ellie’s way.

She looks at you with an eyebrow raised. You shake your head, winking at her. “Hopefully I’ve got an answer for you,” Joel mutters under his breath. “What’s up?”

“I was wondering…” Ellie chews on her lip, her frame showing less confidence than it did seconds ago. “Do you think- Never mind.” She shakes her head. “Forget I said anything.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Well hold on. Now you’ve got my curiosity piqued. What is it?”

Ellie’s eyes dart from you to Joel, back to you, and then to the floorboards. Her boot scuffs at the hardwood.

“Ellie,” Joel says.

She sighs. “I know you don’t have a lot of equipment or anything, but…” She stops for a second, seeming to weigh the words in her head. “But I was wondering if you could look at my blood. Just to see if you can find anything in it.”

“Ellie… I-” You say.

“I know it’s a long shot.”

You search for the right words. There are none. There wasn’t a cure for fungus before- and even if there were- you didn’t have the tools or even the abilities, but she looks at you with so much hope and need.

“The fireflies said there wasn’t a cure,” Joel says, shortly. “And they had a bunch more resources than Jackson.”

“I know but-”

“There’s no cure, Ellie. Let it be.” Joel snaps.

Ellie looks at you, her stubborn streak kicking in even as the hope in her eyes dwindles. You can’t tell her no. You won’t give her false hope, but you won’t tell her no.

“Look…” You glance at Joel and then back to her. “There was no cure for this kind of infection before. I don’t have the tools or the knowledge or training or any of the shit you need to create any kind of cure.” Ellie’s shoulders fall as she waits for the inevitable. “But if you come to the clinic tomorrow- I’ll take some blood.”

“Really?” A spark returns to her eyes. You feel Joel’s mood shift behind you, gathering the impression that he is not a fan of this idea.

“Yes, but please don’t expect anything. Okay? About all I can do is look at it under the microscope.”

Ellie nods, but you see the excitement growing in her small frame despite your warning.

“Dinner’s ready,” Joel says, pulling a pan off the stove.

You look at him, but he’s focused on transferring the food to a serving bowl. Deep lines set in his forehead. You don’t even have to ask to know that he doesn’t like this. You just hope it won’t hurt Ellie more when it doesn’t work out.

Joel loosens up throughout your early dinner, and by the time you finish up, he’s laughing. You feel warm and fuzzy like you’re riding a nice buzz. It’s a welcome change from this morning and the weight this day carries. In some ways, it reminds you of the family dinners growing up as you celebrated your twin brothers’ birthday, laughter and smiles filling the room until it spills into the outdoors.

Eventually, Carter pulls Ellie off to his room, blabbering on about cars and space. Their playing echoes off the wall of your home as you help Joel with the dishes. It’s a welcome change. It reminds you of all your stolen plans. Two kids- three if biology would allow it- and a house so contagious with love and laughter it infected the whole street. The old dream is like a siren's call lulling you out further and further in until you drown. Oddly enough, you don’t care. The slight spike in your anxiety is quickly overridden by Joel’s easy presence.

He hands you another dish to dry. “You gonna tell me why you’re upset I agreed to look at Ellie’s blood?”

“I’m not upset.” Joel bristles slightly, but you keep your eyes trained on him. You know he’ll tell you. He cares too much about Ellie not to. “Don’t want to get her hopes up is all.”

“Bull shit.”

He sighs, rinsing another plate before handing it to you. “You didn’t have to tell her last time it didn’t work.” He pauses. He won’t meet your eyes as he shifts from foot. You feel like he’s withholding something, trying to decide what he should tell you. “She looked like there wasn't a reason for her to be here anymore. She’s been off since we got back because of it, and you just ignited that spark again.”

“And what if it works, Joel?” You don’t believe it will, not for a second, but Joel’s attitude makes you defensive.

“And when I have to deal with the fallout again?”

“I set beyond reasonable expectations.”

“And she brushed them aside.” Joel’s words start to rise in volume.

You match it. “She said It herself. She knows it’s a long shot.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“What’s this really about? This feels like a lot more than protectiveness.” You cross your arms.

Joel sighs, rubbing his temples with sudsy hands. “I don’t remember you being this stubborn 20 years ago.”

The words set off a wildfire inside you. Heat spreads inside your chest, eyes growing wide with rage. “A lot changes in 20 years.” You throw the dish towel down. It smacks against the counter with a solid thwack.

You storm out of the house, seeking the calming effects of the outdoors. The ups and downs of the day hit you like a semi-truck. Your knees buckle, sending you to the stairs. You don’t feel like crying, but you sit there with your head in your hands, reeling.

You’re not sure what exactly about Joel’s words set you off. The expectation of being the same person you were before the world ended? Or the disregard for everything you’d been through in the past two decades? Or maybe it was the fact that it was just an asshole thing to say.

After a few minutes, when your heart rate returns to normal and the angry heat has begun to seep out of your body, Joel eases next to you. You keep your eyes pinned straight ahead.

Neither of you speak. A breeze sneaks around you, raising goosebumps. A couple of kids play in the street a few houses down. A bird chirps, hopping across the ground in search of grubs. It chirps and flits up to its nest where you know 3 baby birds lay.

Joel inhales deeply, rubbing his hands together. “I’m sorry… for what I said.”

“I can’t live with expectations of being who I was 20 years ago, Joel.”

“I know, and that’s not fair of me.”

You nod, unsure of your next words. You’re going to forgive him, you already know that. His warm hand settles over your knee. He squeezes it softly and you can’t help but lean into him a little bit more. “I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Joel stiffens a little bit. He tries to hide it, but you’re starting to pick up on his mannerisms again. They’ve hardly changed in 20 years.

You place a hand over his. “You don’t have to tell me what it is if you don’t want to.” You finally look at him, gathering his strong profile.

His Adam's apple bobs slowly. He’s told you a lot these past couple of months as you lay in bed. Sometimes, you stayed quiet as he talked about what he did to survive, and things inside the QZ, sometimes you joined in, but you know there’s more to his story. There’s more to your own story.

“One day.” He says. “Not now.”

It’s enough for now. It’s more than enough really. He’s already further than you thought you would let someone in again.

“Okay.”

He leans over, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Wanna go for a walk?”

You shake your head. “Not tonight.”

He furrows his brow. You stand up, holding your hand out. Taking it, he rises to his feet following you back inside. Bare feet pad against the hardwood floor. Ellie and Carter’s conversation drifts down the stairs filling you with a sense of comfort you’ve never felt before. You turn on the old record player and a warped copy of Rumours, skipping to the second track. It was one of the few things you brought with you from your grandparent’s house when you moved into this pocket of remaining civilization. The volume is up just enough to set the atmosphere.

Joel sits on your couch and you ease beside him, feet tucked under you with your head on his shoulder. His fingers brush along your shoulder. The grief you woke up with still lingers. Between the low hum of Dreams, Ellie and Carter’s faint noise, and Joel’s breathing, your eyes droop. For the first time next to Joel, slumber calls your name, and you answer.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #tlou #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #woman (joel miller)#woman (joel’s version)#pedro stories #pedrostories #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #hbo tlou #pedro boys #pedro pascal fanfiction

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d-dixonimagines · 6 days

Note

i have a carol x daughter reader idea if you want to perhaps write another (she says hopefully & gratefully)

reader leaving signs for carol in the woods or smth to be able to find her and reader being like “you really found me”

I hope this is at least somewhat accurate to what you were envisioning! I’m very sorry it’s taken so long to post it. I did also have help from a wonderful anon who helped me move things along!

Once you were both back on a main road, you swung your bag around to your front and pulled out a copy of The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, which was surprisingly still in fairly good condition. Corners were bent and pages slightly weathered, and the front cover was a bit scratched up and dusty, but as far as you could tell, all of the pages were still in tact.

It felt like it had been ages since you felt this excited about something, ever since Carol left, at least. Since she's been gone, your mood had been pretty low, partly due to the fact that you didn't have anyone to talk to anymore. You tried to keep your excitement contained, but you couldn't help yourself, you were just too fucking excited!

"Oh man, I can't believe I found this, Daryl look!" You waved the book in front of you, grinning from ear to ear, barely noticing the quick glance from Daryl before you looked the book over again. "I've been wanting to read these books for forever but never got around to it, and now it's going to be a bit out of order since I'm starting with the second book, but that shouldn't matter cause I've seen the movies so I already know what happens. Have you read these or seen the movies?"

Words spewed out in rapid fire and you continued on without giving him a chance to respond. "I couldn't ever decide who my favorite characters were cause they were all so cool, but I always felt I had hobbit vibes cause I love breakfast, and potatoes! PO-TAY-TOES --" "Hey! Can ya shut up, please? I can't think straight with all that ramblin' yer doin'. We wasted too much time as it is, prob'ly cause of that dumb book, so let's keep it movin'."

His loud voice startled you, stopping you in your tracks. You stared at him in disbelief as he yelled, this time him not giving you any time to react before he turned and started walking again. It took you a few seconds to ground yourself, he had never talked to you that way before.

You looked down at the book for a moment before going through the motions of putting it back in your bag and continuing your way behind Daryl. All you think about now was how much you wished Carol would come back, not only because you missed her and wanted to share these things with her, but she was the only one you felt understood you. She would have never reacted that way towards you, and until that moment, you honestly didn't think Daryl would have either.

You didn't make a sound the rest of the time. When you stopped at other places to see if there was anything you could bring back, you did it quietly. When you finally stopped for the night, you gathered up the wood for the fire and got it started like Carol showed you.

Daryl was quiet too, but he looked like he had wanted to say something for the past couple hours by the way he would glance back at you every now and then. As dinner was heating up, the only sounds that could be heard was the crackling of the fire. You sat close by to keep warm, hugging your knees to your chest.

After a few minutes of stirring around the food in the pan, Daryl sat back and chewed at the inside of his lip. "I'm sorry about earlier.." he finally spoke, his voice softer now. You glanced over at him and nodded, unsure if you were ready to speak yet.

There was another pause before he continued. "I need ya ta know that you weren't doin' anythin' wrong, and I wasn't mad at ya 'cause of the book. I jus'.. I was mad at somethin' else and I shouldn't've taken it out on ya, and I'm sorry."

You nodded your head. You could see that he truly meant it, he always did, but nodding was all you could manage in that moment. There was another quiet pause. "I know ya miss her.. I know it's tough not havin' her here, but she will be back, ya know."

"When?" It was a quick response, catching Daryl off guard. He didn't have an answer for you and you could see that by the look he had on his face. "I dunno," it was almost a whisper. "But she will be, she always does."

You let out a quiet sigh and brought your attention back to the fire. "I think the food is done. Carol always said you like to cook the meat until it's dry," you tried to hide your smirk, but Daryl caught it. Of course he caught it!

"Is that so? I hate ta break it to ya, but Carol doesn't know everythin'." He chuckled before removing the pan from the fire and tossing the contents inside around. The meat was charred and the look of it just made you both laugh.

"Why don't we make a deal," your ears perked and you brought your attention back to him. "You show me how Carol showed ya how to cook and I'll show you an easier way to start a fire." You smiled and nodded your head in agreement. "Ok, that sounds like a fun deal."

You felt your mood shift to something lighter, like you could relax again. As you took over the cooking, starting something new so you weren't just eating burnt mystery meat, Daryl brought up the book you had found. "I've seen a couple of those movies, never read the books though. I think I'd probably be a hobbit, too. That old scowly one that's always glarin' at people."

You smiled and nodded. "Oh, I can see that," you laughed. "You'd have 'No visitors welcome' signs staked all around your yard just to make sure everyone got the hint to stay away." You both laughed.

The rest of the night moved along effortlessly, talking about your favorite parts, quoting lines that you could remember and just having a good, fun time. It reminded you of how things were with Carol and it helped fill that void you felt since she's been gone. No one could replace her, but it felt good having other people who could make you feel like the way she did.

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #d-dixonimagines #daryl dixon x reader

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softtrashmouth · 2 years

Text

Bo Sinclair x Twitter stan!reader

a/n: random thought I had so pls enjoy this mess.

Pairings: Bo Sinclair x Gn!reader

summary: instances where reader is always saying “slay”, “please tell me I got krissed”, etc etc.

word count: 1,063

It started as a few small phrases nothing too noticeable, but to be fair Bo noticed everything about you.

Initially, Bo took your newfound slang as you being from the more populated cities and not from the countryside but he never would have guessed it came from a stupid little app on your phone.

“what’re ya ramblin bout’ now sweetheart?” Bo would question with a tilt of his head and a curious gleam in his eyes.

The sound of Bo’s voice made you spin around so fast your head felt dizzy.

“jus’ tellin’ Vinny here that his new wax figure was slaying, it’s giving the monopoly guy, look at his hat!” you could only gleam with pure happiness, throwing your pointer finger at the new wax finger excitedly.

Bo just gave you a quizzical look, glancing between you and Vincent as Vincent just gave him a shrug, silently removing himself to get back to his work.

୨୧

Another hot day in Ambrose had you spreading out on the couch with a box fan next to you as you lazily scrolled through Twitter. Laughing and slapping a hand over your mouth now and then when you saw a good meme, simply passing time until Bo got home.

As you were scrolling through the very last bits of a Twitter thread fight you had been reading for the past 15 minutes, tears swelling your eyes as you tried to contain your laughter knowing too much noise would annoy Vincent as he worked you heard the front door creak open.

Typically, you would greet Bo with a warm kiss and shove your fingers through his slightly damped hair but right now you were still caught up on the Twitter thread, fully invested in this online drama.

Bo trudged into the house, boots heavily slapping against the floor as the sounds got louder and louder until they came to a complete stop. You could feel Bo’s eyes burning holes into your neck as you wiped a hand under your eyes still snickering at the posts.

“Well hello to you too darlin’”

Bo scowled as he made his way to sit on the love seat opposite of you watching as you spared him a glance before locking your eyes back on your screen, which earned a loud scoff from Bo.

Knowing he’d scold you like a mother for “Bein’ on the damn phone too much” or the lack of attention you were unsure, so you put your phone down and made your way to him.

Quickly find your way to Bo’s lap your hands reflexively made their way to his shoulders as you began to massage them, peppering soft kisses all over his face. This seemed to please Bo as he let out a soft sigh, closing his eyes as you began to relax him.

“What’s so important on that stupid phone of yers anyways huh?”

Bo questioned, eyes still closed as he let out an amused but annoying hum. Your fingers grazed the curls at the end of his hair a soft smile playing on your lips as you recall what has kept you entertained while you waited for him. Pulling your phone out and opening the Twitter app you went through your likes and began showing Bo what had kept your attention from him.

Earning a small scoff as you read him the tweets, chuckling every so often when you found something funny.

“And then they asked “what shoes yo momma got on” “ you snickered twisting your phone towards Bo’s face allowing him to watch as you mindlessly scroll. To which he would playfully roll his eyes making some sarcastic comment about how stupid the things you found funny were.

୨୧

Your face dropped almost as soon as you heard the quiet thud followed by small pitter-patters and a jingle of a bell.

You see, moments earlier you hummed a soft tune to yourself as you slowly spread the strawberry jam across the bread, quickly flipping the loaf onto the other half which was messily covered in peanut butter.

Smiling to yourself you decided to grab a glass of juice to complete your meal, absent-mindedly setting the sandwich down on the plate as you reach to grab a wine glass which was your first mistake.

At the sound of what could only be compared to a large dinner being ravaged, you turned on your heel to be met with Jonesy’s doe eyes as she licked the remaining strawberry jam that drooped on her nose.

Anger, shock, surprise. Any emotions you could have possibly felt all rushing over you until you finally settled on disbelief.

Laughing to yourself you counted all of your fingers, pinched your skin, anything that would prove this was a dream or that the summer heat was simply making you hallucinate.

“Okay, very funny. Where's the cameras?”

You huffed quickly shuffling through the kitchen, flinging open every cabinet door, the pantry door, and even going to look inside the fridge.

“Where’s the music, please tell me I was just krissed” you mumble to yourself as you check the last cabinet. Huffing to yourself you finally let it go and decided to just make another sandwich.

Standing up from your crouched position you began to pull out more bread, sloppily re-making the sandwich, turning back on your heels once more to begin to place the food back where you got it you see Bo with an unreadable expression making you freeze.

“How long have you been watching me?”

You mumbled, a mouth full of peanut butter and strawberry jam. Bo just shook his head as he slowly stalked his way toward you, arms wrapping around your middle as his chin dug into the dip between your neck and your shoulder.

You could feel his hot breath fanning over your neck as he smirked.

“You an that damn phone y/n.”

bo chuckled.

#i haven’t wrote in a year omg #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x y/n #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair imagine #bo sinclair fluff #bo sinclair pound me now

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escherstrange-ffxiv · 3 years

Text

#10: Heady

CW: implications of: suicide, incest

It weren't easy getting to Limsa to Mor Dhona. Not many airships fly there, but I heard much of the boy what can bring ye back. Innkeep said nothing, just nodded and showed me to a room. I don't know what I was expectin', but 'e was a skinny waif, couldn't've been more'n twenty one summers with eyes green as the fields an' marble skin. Pretty lad if ye were into his sort I s'pose.

" 'eard ye can bring back the dead."

"In a fashion, I suppose."

'e wasn't much for small talk or explainin', just stuck out his hand for payment. " 'ow much?" I asked.

"However much you think your loved one is worth."

"Ye can't put a price on that, lad. My Calla, she's priceless."

"Then you'll have no problem paying." S'always the pretty ones with the cruelest smiles, "I require upfront payment for security purposes." I wasn't gonna win so I paid 'im all I got; anything t' see you again, 'e was right 'bout that.

'e put his hands on me cheeks - they weren't small and smooth like yours but they were warm. I dinna' need to think hard 'bout what I wanted t'see, I already knew.

When I opened me eyes there you were, exactly as the day ye left. "Calla, my dear sweet child," I brushed my thumb against y'cheek just the way ye liked it. "Ye ain't changed, still the same. They must be feedin' ye well in the hereafter. Dad misses ye so, so much, my dearest Calla lily." I'd so much to say to ye, jus' went on and on like a ramblin' sailor. "After your mum died I thought I couldn't ever go on withou' her. Ye had her smile, and her gold spun hair; ye looked so much like her it was like havin' her back and I thought this must've been the Spinner's blessing t' grace me with me Gracie again.

"T'ain't the same Calla - them whores and lonely widows ain't ye. They talk different, touch different, hold different. I keep goin' back to the day the Jackets found your body at the bottom 'o the cliff at Salt Strand, 'ow the Qiqirn dinna' even loot ye like the other corpses what wash up. Pure an' incorruptible like the lily ye mum named ye after. It could've been different love - could've made ye stay home, went out meself for the sugar. Nobody'd touch your da, they'd know better than t' mess with me." I wanted one last kiss, we dinna' even have that when ye dashed out the door that stormy afternoon; held your chin with my thumb an' finger, gently like we used to, and-

-cold air slapped my cheeks. I'm in the room, th' lad scowlin' back. "TIme's up."

"Wh- oi, I wasn't done! Bring 'er back!"

He got up an' walked to the door. "We're done. You saw her, you've said your piece." Lad's cold like the frozen Coerthan wastes, no 'eart at all. "Thank you for your patronage."

I ne'er done this before Calla, I got on my knees. "Please lad, y-ye don't understand. If ye'd ever loved before ye'd know what I mean, feel what I felt. If the Spinner'd let us switch places - I'd do it in a heartbeat!"

'e sneered at me, the nerve! "Shame that wasn't the case, was it?"

#ffxivwrite #ffxiv writing #story time #isillud losstarot #cw

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not-close-to-straight · 5 years

Text

Braids (Stucky)

There’s more fics on my MASTERLIST!

****************

Brooklyn, 1940

“Buck.” Steve knocked on the bathroom door. “Are you dead in there? Lemme in, I gotta go.”

He knocked again but there was no answer, so Steve sighed, put his small shoulder to the door and shoved as hard as he can, nearly falling into the tiny bathroom when the lock gave way and the door fell right open.

“Shit.” Bucky was standing in front of the scratched mirror and Steve frowned as the brunette hastily ran his fingers through his hair, dragging at the strands to dislodge what looked like the beginnings of a sloppy braid. “Stevie, ain’t ya never heard bout knockin? Can’t a fella piss in--”

“Were you braiding your hair?” Steve interrupted, and Bucky’s scowl was black enough to wither flowers. “No m’serious. Is that what you were doin’?”

“Why th’ hell would I be--”

“Is this bout how you said some days you didn’t feel like a fella?” Steve cut in again and Bucky’s scowl darkened another shade. “But you don’t really feel like a dame, sometimes it’s jus’ inbetween?”

“I dunno what you’re talkin’--”

“You were drunk.” Steve leaned against the doorjam and folded his arms, as if that would do anything to deter Bucky from moving past him. “Drunk and sorta emotional and said ‘Stevie sometimes I jus’ don’t fell like a fella’ and then you cried.”

“I did not--” Bucky started to yell, but Steve just looked at him, so Bucky took a deep breath and hunched his shoulders and tried to shrug it off. “Was just ramblin’. No big deal.”

“Kay then.” Steve stood aside to let Bucky through to the living room, and in a very quiet voice as Bucky was almost out of hearing range, added, “I know how’ta braid, Buck. Used to practice on my ma after she got sick so I’m real good at it, if you care bout that sorta thing.”

“...yeah?” Bucky didn’t turn around but his voice shook a little. “S’okay if I care bout that sorta thing?”

“Course it is.”

“...kay.” Bucky went into his room and Steve finally made it to the bathroom and that was the last either of them said about it for several days.

**************

“Stevie.” It was late, already dark for hours and most of the apartment building was quiet or asleep by the time Bucky came to Steve’s bedroom door. “You awake.”

“Uh--” Steve looked over at the lamp then down at the book in his hands. “No?”

“Punk.” Bucky muttered and Steve cracked a smile, waiting for Bucky to say whatever it was that had him visibly nervous, shifting his feet and chewing at his lip. “You uh-- you think you could--” Bucky made a vague gesture to his hair. “Maybe?”

“Come on.” Steve didn’t even hesitate, knowing damn well it had taken every bit of Bucky’s courage to even ask for this small thing, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and pointing at the floor. “Your hairs not as long as ma’s so it might be slower, but come on anyway.”

Bucky hesitated a moment more and then finally blew out a deep breath and almost ran over to sit at Steve’s feet, closing his eyes and tipping his head back and waiting with his fists clenched in his lap.

“Don’t gotta be nervous.” Steve tried to sound reassuring, tried to sound like Bucky feeling this way was alright because it was alright. Out in the neighborhood a fella could get beat for admitting he didn’t like girls or that some days he felt like a girl, but here? Here it was alright.

“Don’t be nervous.” he said again and Bucky gave another one of those deep sighs like he was fuckin’ terrified. “This won’t hurt.”

“Dummy.” Bucky scoffed, masking his anxiety with sarcasm. “I know it won’t hurt.”

“You keep callin’ me names and I’m gonna pull your hair so it does hurt.” Steve threatened and Bucky shut his mouth obediently. “Now hold still, you’re bigger than my ma was, gotta figure out how to work around your big ol’ head.”

Bucky snorted but went still and Steve went to work, sliding his fingers across Bucky’s scalp to loosen the thick pomade and raising his eyebrow when he realized exactly how long the dark hair had gotten. Slicked back in the usual style it was harder to tell length, but loose it nearly fell to his shoulders and Steve wondered--

“Does having long hair help with--”

“Yeah.” Bucky said shortly. “Something nobody but me notices. Helps to feel more like-- more like how I wanna feel.”

Steve didn’t say anything to that, just went to work with his comb to detangle any knots and smooth the flyaways before dividing Bucky’s hair into three parts and working it quickly and efficiently into a single braid.

Then he undid the braid, hushed Bucky’s question, and started again, plaiting a tiny braid at Bucky’s temple and tucking it behind his ear before adding a second, thicker one. Then a third, woven at the ends into the first two, and the entire one pulled into a single braid and tied off at the bottom.

“What--?” Bucky put his hand up at his forehead to check. “What did you do?”

“Go look.” Steve wiped the extra pomade off his hands as Bucky struggled to his feet and headed for the bathroom.

“Stevie.” Bucky was back at his door, a dull flush in his cheeks. “Why’d ya make it all fancy?”

Steve crawled back onto the bed and retrieved his book as nonchalantly as possible, reminded himself that here in their apartment it was okay to be themselves and said, “Cos I thought you’d look pretty with something’ fancy in your hair.”

“Pretty.” Bucky repeated, glancing down at his body, at the muscles gained hauling boxes at the docks, at thick forearms and the way he was tall enough to about hit his head on the door as he came through. “...you think?”

“Well yeah.” Steve shrugged and held his book up higher so Bucky wouldn’t see how terrified he suddenly was. “Don’t stare at ya fresh from the shower jus’ cos you’re usin’ my towel again.”

Steve peeked over the top of his book. “...Is that okay?”

“Fuckin’ hell, Stevie.” Bucky was red to the tip of his ears, matching Steve’s complexion perfectly. “We’re a real pair, ain’t we? I dunno if I’m a guy or a gal half the time, you think m’pretty anyway--” he paused, cocked his head. “You think m’pretty whichever way, right Stevie? Not jus’ cos my hair makes me look like a dame?”

“Hair don’t make you look like a dame.” Steve denied, turning a page in his book without reading a single sentence. “You jus’ look like Bucky to me. Same as you always do.”

“I uh--” Bucky scratched at his chin. “Didn’t know you liked fellas, Stevie.”

“I like you, Buck.” Steve gave up trying to sound nonchalant and let his voice squeak as he asked again, “Is that okay?”

Bucky grinned, sweet and clear and happy like Steve hadn’t seen him do in months. “Sure is, Stevie.”

*******************

It was harder during the war to catch moments to be themselves, to steal quick kisses or brush against each other in the dark and it was even more difficult to find the time and privacy for Steve to sit and braid Bucky’s hair.

He wore it even longer now, the Commandos being their own special unit meant that the usual dress codes didn’t tend to apply and the men took their own liberties with their uniforms.

So Bucky let his hair grow down past his shoulders, wrapping it up in a bun beneath a bandanna and helmet when on active duty, but letting it free into waves when they were relaxing so Steve could bury his fingers in it, scratching at Bucky’s scalp and breathing in the sweetly scented shampoo they had snuck to buy in the last little French town they’d passed a few weeks back. He only used the tiniest amounts, not wanting the other men to notice anything off about the way he smelled and thankfully Jacques cologne was so terrible pungent that a light sweep of roses went unnoticed.

He always braided Bucky’s hair first, before the kissing started, before clothes were being pushed off in a hurry, before they had to rush through getting off together to get back to dinner or drills or onto their next mission. Sometimes Bucky fussed over it, insisting “I’d much rather be fuckin’ ya, Stevie, don’t worry about my hair.” and Stevie always whispered back, “S’important that you feel like you, Buck. Give you a chance to look the way you wanna, right?”

So Bucky let Steve braid in peace, each design more intricate than the last because Steve had practiced on the girls in the USO and sometimes asked the girls in the bars if he could practice on them with a new style and they all thought he was flirting, but Bucky knew it was just so Stevie could be better with his hair.

“Don’t want you doin’ that anymore.” he said one evening as Steve dotted kisses along his jaw line, nuzzling at his ear.

“You don’t want me to do this anymore?” Steve asked in surprise and Bucky rolled his eyes, shoving Steve’s head back into his neck. “Ah, I see.” Steve’s voice was muffled now, his mouth curved in a smile at Bucky’s throat. “What don’t you want me doing anymore?”

“Practicin’ on the girls.” Bucky clarified, tipping his chin back and sighing as Steve’s big hand slid up to cup his cheek, bringing their mouths together or a long kiss. “On their hair? I don’t want ya doin’ that anymore.”

“Mkay.” Steve didn’t even bother arguing, too distracted by the way Bucky’s fingers were tracking up his thighs headed towards his belt. “I won’t. Just you, Buck. Don’t matter anyway.” he fell back onto the pillows when Bucky pushed at him, wrapping the end of the braid through his fingers and tugging at it until Bucky groaned, rough and low and needy.

“Goddamn you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous baby.” Steve breathed, making room for Bucky between his thighs and letting his speech roll lazy like he only did when it was just them, when he didn’t have to be Captain America. “Don’t want anybody else but you, always you, won’t touch nobody else.”

“Jus’ don’t want ya thinkin’ anybody else is pretty.” Bucky’s smile was teasing and cocky but also just a little shy, always just a little shy because even after almost three years of Steve knowing and supporting and loving every inch and every side of him, Bucky still worried.

“I would never.” Steve swore, careful not to pop the buttons on Bucky’s uniform as he yanked the shirt off Bucky’s shoulder. “It’s only you Buck. Always always always only you.”

*****************

Steve bought Bucky ribbons when they stopped in London overnight before going after Zemo’s train, smiled at the woman who asked if such pretty colors were for his girl back home, and tucked satin strips of light blue and dark red and just one in a delicate pink inside his pocket.

They were for after the mission, for when the Commandos would be celebrating a sure victory and the Generals would be pleased with their work and maybe grant them a day of rest before moving out.

He wanted to weave the ribbons into Bucky’s hair, wanted to see the smile when Bucky saw how fuckin’ pretty he was going to look, the way his voice would get hoarse and shaky before he’d drag Steve to bed.

Bucky deserved ribbons and he deserved nice things to wear and he deserved to be able to show it off but that wouldn’t happen-- couldn’t happen-- at least not any time soon, so they had to be content with quiet moments and empty barracks and loving each other in the darkness.

Once the war was over and they could find a place all their own, that sorta thing would change but for now, Steve just smiled and patted at the present in his jacket.

Bucky was going to love these.

******************

After the train, Steve wore Bucky’s spare set of dog tags around his neck, blue and red and pink ribbons braided together around the chain and resting over his heart.

No one asked, and Steve never told and they were lost to the Arctic when Steve put himself and his broken heart down in the ice.

******************

Wakanda, 2017

“They do not talk.” Shuri said as she and T’Challa crested a hill and watched Sergeant Barnes Bucky and Captain Rogers feed the goats together, pitching hay and hauling water. “Captain Rogers has been here every day for two weeks and they do not talk.”

“You do not know what two men do in the privacy of their rooms.” T’Challa countered, dark eyes thoughtful as he watched Bucky lift a bale of hay one handed, as he watched Captain Rogers watching Bucky.

“I am well aware of what two men--” Shuri started and T’Challa clicked his tongue, scolding, “No Shuri, I was not talking about that.” and Shuri laughed out loud. “I am saying that just because they do not talk here in the open where everyone can listen does not mean they do not talk when it is night and there is nothing but the shadows to overhear.”

“They do not talk” Shuri maintained. “And they only look at each other when the other is not looking. They are very much in love but neither knows how to say it.”

“And when did my sister become such an expert at love?”

“I have been watching you make a fool of yourself around Nakia long enough to have picked up a few things.” Shuri said slyly and down in the low valley, both Bucky and Steve looked up when shouts of laughter echoed from the Princess, the King chasing her back towards the village.

Their eyes met and skittered away, Bucky pushing his hair away from his eyes and kneeling to pet one of the goats, Steve unable to help himself from staring.

Bucky was so different now, of course he was. Seventy years and unimaginable horrors, a body so forcefully changed and a mind that had only been his own for a few months now. Six months in cryo as Shuri and the other doctors had worked to erase HYDRA’s influence, an excruciating surgery to remove as much of the metal arm as possible, with Bucky telling them not to replace it, that he’d rather be one armed than have to look at it every day.

Steve had been there for as much as Bucky had allowed and now they spent every day together and never said more than strictly necessary and it ate at Steve, twisted his stomach and hurt his heart and wanted so badly to do something-- anything--

Bucky’s hair was in his eyes, hanging almost to mid back and falling forward to cover his face. It was matted and lifeless, dull and limp, and Bucky made no effort to push it away, concentrating his one hand on still petting the tiny goat that butted up against his palm.

“Can I braid your hair?” Steve blurted before he could help himself and Bucky froze mid motion.

“...what?”

“Can I braid your hair?” Whispering now. “Bucky, I-- we don’t talk anymore. I don’t know what to say and I don’t know if you even want to say anything and we used to-- back when we didn’t have anything to say--” he made a hopeless, helpless gesture. “Could I?”

“M’not pretty anymore.” Bucky’s jaw clenched as he ground his teeth together. “M’not-- Stevie it isn’t-- we can’t just--”

“We can.” Steve interrupted, because he’d always interrupted Bucky at the worst times, cutting in with his own opinions when he was afraid Bucky would say something he didn’t want to hear. “We-- we can, Buck. If you want.”

And after a moment. “And you are...you know? You always-- always were. Always will be. If that’s something you still want me to call you. If you want.”

Bucky was quiet for a long time and Steve just waited. Waited and waited because he’d waited seventy something years and he could wait some more, and then finally Bucky muttered, “Hard t’wash it with just one hand.”

“I can do that.” Steve said quickly. “I can-- that’s not a problem.”

“Need something for the mess.” Bucky ran clumsy fingers through the tangled ends. “You don’t wanna--”

“I do though.” Steve wiped his hands on his pants to get the bits of hay off and took a step closer. “I do, Bucky. Just let me--” another step closer, watching Bucky carefully. “Please?”

Silence again for such a long time that Steve started to worry Bucky would say no, that this was too much to ask or maybe too little after far too long.

“Bucky?”

“You been practicin’?” Bucky asked after another moment, inclining his head towards Steve’s own longer hair and beard. “Still know how’ta braid?”

“I told you I wasn’t gonna practice on anyone but you, Buck.” A wash of relief coloring Steve’s words. “So I guess we’ll have to see if I’ve lost my touch.”

****************

Bucky’s shirt had to come off for Steve to wash his hair, and Bucky cringed away from the sight of all his scars in the bathroom mirror, turning his head and closing his eyes and Steve murmured something soft and indecipherable.

Bucky didn’t like water on his face, in his eyes, so Steve led him to a chair that didn’t recline, one that wouldn’t remind Bucky of anything HYDRA related, then poured pitcher after pitcher of water into his hair until it was streaming wet.

Next was shampoo, very lightly scented of roses because Steve had brought some to Wakanda just in case-- just in case-- and he lathered it up in his palms before massaging it into the matted strands, scratching over Bucky’s scalp and down the back of his neck, stirring the bubbles over and over until the bottle was nearly empty.

Then water again, washing the shampoo clean and Steve spent more time than he should have on the rinse, enjoying the repetitiveness and the way Bucky seemed to melt just a little more with every pitcher of water, so Steve didn’t stop until Bucky’s hair was shiny and smooth again.

Next was a comb, and Steve sat on the bed and patted the space in front of him anxiously, holding his breath until Bucky sat cross legged between his knees and he could work out the last few tangles.

Bucky shuddered when Steve’s fingers finally landed in his hair but he didn’t run away, just turned his head to whisper, “Don’t gotta be anything fancy, Steve.”

“I know.” Steve started with a tiny braid at Bucky’s temple. “But I want you to like how you look.”

He didn’t see Bucky’s smile, but the big shoulders relaxed a tiny bit more and Steve took that as a good sign.

“Alright, let’s see if I remember how to do this.”

*****************

“You are staring, Shuri.” T’Challa scolded her over a late lunch, side eyeing his mother before jabbing his sister in the side. “Do not look so jealous!”

“I am not jealous!” Shuri insisted. “I just do not understand how Captain Rogers has learned to braid so well! Bucky’s hair looks incredible! The man spent six months looking like a hobo and now for the last three weeks he looks like a model for those American shampoo commercials? It makes no sense!”

“He is in love.” T’Challa said, as if that explained everything and Shuri snorted in disbelief.

“They’re staring.” Bucky muttered across the table, touching his hair self consciously. Steve had done a reverse braid up into a bun and it looked easy and soft and Bucky had loved it but now people were looking at him and--

“Don’t worry about it.” Steve murmured over a drink of water. “You look beautiful.”

“I--” Bucky glanced at him nervously. “I what?”

“You look beautiful.” Steve said again, just a quiet but this time he looked over and smiled. “Just like you always have.”

“...oh.”

The next time Steve braided Bucky’s hair, a design he pulled up on his phone and called ‘waterfall’, Bucky closed his eyes and leaned back into the touch a little more and sighed just the tiniest bit and Steve’s voice was rough as he whispered, “You’re so beautiful, Buck.”

And another time, Steve not so much braiding Bucky’s hair as he was just playing with it, breathing in the rose scent Bucky had shyly asked to keep, wrapping the smaller braids through his fingers and tugging at them just lightly enough to make Bucky’s breath catch-- “God, you’re gorgeous. M’so thankful I got you back, sweetheart.”

And another, as Bucky stared into the bathroom mirror at the dozens of braids starting at his forehead and ending several inches later, the rest of his hair falling free down his back in soft waves-- “I bought you something.”

“What?” Bucky turned from the mirror to see Steve standing there holding out a small package, a hopeful, dopey smile on his face. “You bought me something?”

“Yeah I uh--” Steve cleared his throat a few times and held out the present. “I actually-- back in the war, before you fell? I bought you these and then-- I mean, they didn’t survive the ice of course but I thought, if you wanted--”

It was a terribly put together sentence, complete with gestures and awkward motions but Bucky took the present anyway, opening it slowly and staring down at the ribbons twisted inside.

“I don’t know if you still feel the same way.” Steve said very carefully. “Like you did before, about how sometimes you don’t feel like a guy but that doesn’t mean you feel like a girl? There’s a word for it now, or at least I think its a word for what you felt--”

“Non binary.” Bucky supplied, flushing a soft red. “Yeah, I’ve-- I’ve heard it. Read it. The uh-- the internet is very helpful.”

“Right, that’s what I said.” Steve’s smile was still a little dopey. “Anyway I thought-- I’d bought you some before you fell and if you still feel that sorta way, I was hoping you’d like to wear some ribbons. Blue cos your eyes and red cos it’s your favorite color and pink just cos I thought you’d look pretty in it?”

“Stevie.” Bucky swallowed. “I--I--”

“If you don’t like them--”

“I love them!” he blurted. “And I still feel-- I just with all this--” Bucky was so big now, all straining muscles and big shoulders and thick thighs and he looked so male, so masculine, every inch a soldier. “-- M’not pretty anymore, Stevie. You say it, but I know m’not. Don’t matter if sometimes I feel--” he shook his head. “No one’s ever gonna think I’m nothing but--”

“Doesn’t matter what anyone thinks.” Steve interrupted because damn it, that’s just what he did. “All that matters is what you think.”

“What you think matters a lot.” Bucky admitted and Steve inched close enough that their bodies brushed, their noses almost bumping.

“I think you’re ‘bout th’prettiest person I ever fuckin’ saw.” Steve whispered, pulling on that long gone Brooklyn accent to make Bucky smile and taking the chance to duck in and press the lightest lightest kiss to his lips. “I love you, Buck. Always have, always will. And if you decide you don’t wanna do the ribbon thing and you don’t want me to braid your hair anymore then that’s fine. But don’t think just cos they did all this to you means that you’re different on the inside, alright?”

He hesitated, then-- “I mean, I know you’re different, Buck. But this doesn’t have to be different. Not if you don’t want it too.”

Bucky picked up the pink ribbon and held it to the light, the smallest sort of smile on his face. “You’ll have to redo my hair to add this one in.”

“I won’t have to redo--” Steve started to argue, then he saw the gleam in Bucky’s eye and grinned. “Yeah you’re right. Completely redo it. At least twice.”

“At least twice.” Bucky agreed and gave Steve a very very soft kiss of his own. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Steve started to work at the little braids, loosening them easily and combing through the waves with his fingers. “Always and always only you, Buck.”

****************

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#ncts fics #stucky #pre serum steve #bucky barnes #non binary bucky

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